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"She's trying to seal the castle so you have no escape route," Sir Bashful had hissed as the door continued rattling behind him, occasionally managing to move the mountain of a man ever-so-slightly

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"She's trying to seal the castle so you have no escape route," Sir Bashful had hissed as the door continued rattling behind him, occasionally managing to move the mountain of a man ever-so-slightly. "But what she doesn't know is that these hands themselves helped build this castle. We know things about this dwelling more than these royals will ever know. We'll wait till she thinks she trapped us before we make a move. You two will do exactly as instructed if you want to see the sunrise tomorrow."

"We will!" They had replied in unison. Eerie unison. Like two bodies, one voice.

"We will move as soon as the air stops churning," Sir Bashful had begun, only to see the quirked eyebrows on Ruby's pretty little head, "—with her spell. Once she is done, I can cast mine, ride her waves so we go undetected. When I say go, you go. No questions. Are we clear?"

They had nodded, like two heads on one body.

Bashful had eyed the two oddly then and repeated. "And whatever happens, you two stick together, come shine or thunder. Stick together till you get to the Charming Lands, and tell Queen Cinderella, Bashful sent you. She'll know what to do."

"Are you not coming with us, Sir Bashful?" Millie had asked, fear gripping her from the inside. She had heard of magic and magical folks of ages gone by, but never had she seen two fearsome creatures that could wield it: Queen Snow White and the formidable knight, Bashful. Without Bashful, the two young women stood no chance against a magic-wielder such as the oft-angry Queen. Stories abound painted a picture of an evil being—cold be her heart and colder be her wrath.

Sir Bashful had looked deep in thoughts before he answered the child's query. "I shall try my best to deliver you to your kind-hearted Aunt, however, should we come across resistance or danger, I will hold them back as long as I must and allow you a safe passage."

"I am not the only one who knows of these passages, unfortunately." Darkness had cast over his face then. "My brothers know these tunnels like the back of our hands, and they are still under her spell."

For a moment, Sir Bashful mourned the loss of his brothers—their free will no longer free—bound to Snow's enchantments. The young girl they had thought victim and saved; given shelter and safety to, who had returned their favours by binding her will to theirs. Seven happy, content dwarves, seven brothers who ruled the Dwarf Forest, now allied—controlled by a child who sought nothing more than to dethrone her loving stepmother, the one person who had looked after her and raised her as her father might have.

Fools! All seven of them. The day Snow, with her red lips, innocent eyes, and vicious heart had entered their lives, the Dwarf Forest and their beings had suffered. Cursed. They had all paid with their lives for their Princess' faults, swayed by a beautiful child. His brothers of course didn't remember the destruction they had brought to their own people, marching on the Enchanted Forest under Snow's governance. Countless lives lost on the battlefield. Countless bodies became one with the land outside the dark lands. The Queen, Snow's mother, whom the child saw naught as a mother but a competition, had surrendered to the will of the child—all to save those creatures dying within and outside her walls. A true Queen.

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