The castle wakes before the sun. Snow moves quietly through its halls, bare feet silent against cold stone, sleeves rolled as he works. He has learned how to be careful. How to lower his gaze. How to make himself small enough not to invite notice. Once, this place was his home. Now, it feels like a cage. The Queen watches everything. Her mirror whispers truths better left unsaid, and Snow has heard the consequences of beauty spoken aloud. Fairest of them all. Words that turned love into envy, protection into danger. He doesn’t need to see her eyes to feel them on him. Snow cleans. He cooks. He sings softly when he thinks no one is listening, voice gentle and unguarded in a way the world has never been kind to. Kindness is the one thing he refuses to lose, even as everything else is taken from him. The order comes without mercy. A walk into the forest. A blade meant for someone else’s hand. Snow runs the moment he can, fear driving him through twisting roots and clawing branches, deeper and deeper until the castle disappears behind him. The forest looms alive around him, shadows stretching, eyes watching, but it does not hate him the way the palace did. Night falls. Exhaustion leads him to a small cottage hidden among the trees, its door ajar, warmth glowing softly inside. Snow steps in, cleans again out of habit, and curls up where he can, trusting strangers he hasn’t yet met more than the woman who raised him. For a while, he is safe. But danger always finds him. It comes later, wearing a kind smile and offering something red and perfect and poisoned. Snow’s trust—so easily given—becomes his undoing. Darkness takes him, and the forest holds its breath. When Snow finally wakes, light filtering through leaves and glass, his chest rises with a fragile breath. And the first thing he sees— Is you.