Categories > Comics > Fables > In the land of Could-Have-Been
Fables do it with a happy ending
0 reviewsEssentially a series of drabbles and ficlets that are slightly AU. Snow/Bigby What might have happened if canon hadn't decided to treat them to an angstpile?
0Unrated
Snow White never felt the need for a lover. What memories she hadn't managed to suppress of her marital duties were largely painful, unpleasantly damp, and tinged with betrayal. His later wives commented that Prince Charming was skilled in this area, but a skill is something you develop with practice. They had both been young at the time of the wedding, even by Fable standards, and the Prince had barely begun to sow his wild oats. The blame was not entirely his; the era was not ideal with regards to equality in the bedchamber, and young brides would usually be instructed to deal with their duties as best they could and hope it would end quickly.
Passion was not something she was familiar with. She had no desire to repeat the experience of her first marriage, and with one thing and another in the aftermath of her divorce, it was rare she had reason to give it a thought.
Standing in a mountain pass, caked with grime and with chains hanging from her wrists, it seemed the most unlikely time for her to feel the stirring of something within her. But the great Wolf had caught her attention, not simply with the uniform slaughter of her former captors [the sword was still held, a small needle of defense that only half her mind insisted was needed to defend against him]. He made her blood boil, caused her to flush with embarrassment from his comments [Bigby never had the slightest idea how to flirt properly]. She did feel something, against all logic. A connection was there, where she would never think to look. But it was enough, and she knew with absolute certainty she could trust him. The sword lowered, and she accepted whatever the Wolf would ask of her.
It took two centuries for her to gather the courage to approach him again, this time in the Mundane world. She prepared extensively, pulling whatever strings were needed to make a place ready for him, give a reason as to why he might wish to stay. The knife was perfect, and she readily dipped into her carefully saved funds to pay what the witch asked.
She bought a new gown for the occasion, and huffily accepted the guard that the others insisted she bring with her to recruit the new Sheriff. At no point did she ever stop to ask herself why she was so adamant that the Wolf be brought in for this position. He helped so many Fables escape through the portal, and was more careful than most likely were at keeping spies from escaping through. That showed good sense, and was enough argument for her.
Attired in her finest, not a hair out of place, she hoped to impress him enough to forget her grime-encrusted appearance at their first meeting. Never once did it occur to her that he might not recall a random girl he aided two centuries back.
He accepted her proposal easily enough, fortunately. She slid the knife into his flesh with more tenderness than another might have in her situation. And it must be said, the sight of his newly granted naked human form fueled more than one interesting dream over the centuries. Most resulted in her waking with no memory of the dream, but feeling oddly at peace with the world.
Centuries passed, and they each settled into their respective jobs. Snow never actively thought of him outside of a professional capacity, but she was in conflict with herself. The dreams came at night were mostly vague, mostly forgotten immediately upon waking, but it began to gnaw away at her. The rumor mill's yammering about her 'tawdry adventures' was bad enough as it was without adding something truthful to it, further undermining her position.
She distanced herself further, then. She had to cut off emotion, or she'd risk her position, risk Fabletown and the safety of all who lived there. Most didn't notice, but some did. Her relationship with her sister, shaky to begin with, broke off almost completely.
~~~~~~~~~~~~*
Some time later, she thought she'd succeeded. He was investigating her sister's murder, and everything was professional. Not a thought had wavered in many years. She came to his defense, Vorpal Sword in hand, when Bluebeard threatened. Certainly, even that could be considered professional courtesy. He took her aside after Jack had been sent off to protective custody that would actually provide protection, oddly tense. She set the sword down carefully, giving him her full focus. He asked her if she wanted to go to the Remembrance Day ball with him, as his date. She found herself saying yes with a wide smile, before the more rational part of her mind had a chance to protest. His smile, warmer and more open than she'd ever seen, stifles even that.
Later that night, the report came in and he told her of the amount of blood in Rose's apartment, what he'd learned and what he suspected. Her voice was unwavering but her eyes shone with unshed tears in the low light as she asked him to find her sister, whatever may have happened. He nodded and they each returned to their respective apartments.
The evening of the ball came, and she found herself once more dressing in the finest gown she could find, ensuring not a hair was out of place, in hopes that the wolf might notice.
He was late, but met her in the ballroom with his hair combed neatly and a pressed suit on. Not the level of refinement she was raised to expect in an escort to such an event, but she wouldn't trade him for a thousand fine princes. They danced for a few minutes only, as despite her efforts he was having quite a bit of trouble keeping off her feet. She suggested they get something to eat, and was somewhat disappointed when his professional demeanor returned after she offered her advice.
The rooftop revelation and all the chaos that came of it meant their date had ended quite effectively on the dance floor. A few days later, once the dust had been settled and the misery had been divided equally, they finally had a moment to relax and reflect on the rooftop.
It struck her to ask him what prompted the request for a date, after all these years. What had changed, what his intentions were.
He told her. He told her of how he first caught her scent and it snagged his heart, of how he knew her more completely than she truly knew herself, of his devotion if only given the chance.
She stood there some time, just letting the situation sink in. He waited, smoking quietly in the night air. Emotion stirred, and for the first time in a long while, she didn't fight it. She asked him to her apartment for coffee, to discuss the matter further.
They didn't actually get around to getting cups out until the following morning.
Passion was not something she was familiar with. She had no desire to repeat the experience of her first marriage, and with one thing and another in the aftermath of her divorce, it was rare she had reason to give it a thought.
Standing in a mountain pass, caked with grime and with chains hanging from her wrists, it seemed the most unlikely time for her to feel the stirring of something within her. But the great Wolf had caught her attention, not simply with the uniform slaughter of her former captors [the sword was still held, a small needle of defense that only half her mind insisted was needed to defend against him]. He made her blood boil, caused her to flush with embarrassment from his comments [Bigby never had the slightest idea how to flirt properly]. She did feel something, against all logic. A connection was there, where she would never think to look. But it was enough, and she knew with absolute certainty she could trust him. The sword lowered, and she accepted whatever the Wolf would ask of her.
It took two centuries for her to gather the courage to approach him again, this time in the Mundane world. She prepared extensively, pulling whatever strings were needed to make a place ready for him, give a reason as to why he might wish to stay. The knife was perfect, and she readily dipped into her carefully saved funds to pay what the witch asked.
She bought a new gown for the occasion, and huffily accepted the guard that the others insisted she bring with her to recruit the new Sheriff. At no point did she ever stop to ask herself why she was so adamant that the Wolf be brought in for this position. He helped so many Fables escape through the portal, and was more careful than most likely were at keeping spies from escaping through. That showed good sense, and was enough argument for her.
Attired in her finest, not a hair out of place, she hoped to impress him enough to forget her grime-encrusted appearance at their first meeting. Never once did it occur to her that he might not recall a random girl he aided two centuries back.
He accepted her proposal easily enough, fortunately. She slid the knife into his flesh with more tenderness than another might have in her situation. And it must be said, the sight of his newly granted naked human form fueled more than one interesting dream over the centuries. Most resulted in her waking with no memory of the dream, but feeling oddly at peace with the world.
Centuries passed, and they each settled into their respective jobs. Snow never actively thought of him outside of a professional capacity, but she was in conflict with herself. The dreams came at night were mostly vague, mostly forgotten immediately upon waking, but it began to gnaw away at her. The rumor mill's yammering about her 'tawdry adventures' was bad enough as it was without adding something truthful to it, further undermining her position.
She distanced herself further, then. She had to cut off emotion, or she'd risk her position, risk Fabletown and the safety of all who lived there. Most didn't notice, but some did. Her relationship with her sister, shaky to begin with, broke off almost completely.
~~~~~~~~~~~~*
Some time later, she thought she'd succeeded. He was investigating her sister's murder, and everything was professional. Not a thought had wavered in many years. She came to his defense, Vorpal Sword in hand, when Bluebeard threatened. Certainly, even that could be considered professional courtesy. He took her aside after Jack had been sent off to protective custody that would actually provide protection, oddly tense. She set the sword down carefully, giving him her full focus. He asked her if she wanted to go to the Remembrance Day ball with him, as his date. She found herself saying yes with a wide smile, before the more rational part of her mind had a chance to protest. His smile, warmer and more open than she'd ever seen, stifles even that.
Later that night, the report came in and he told her of the amount of blood in Rose's apartment, what he'd learned and what he suspected. Her voice was unwavering but her eyes shone with unshed tears in the low light as she asked him to find her sister, whatever may have happened. He nodded and they each returned to their respective apartments.
The evening of the ball came, and she found herself once more dressing in the finest gown she could find, ensuring not a hair was out of place, in hopes that the wolf might notice.
He was late, but met her in the ballroom with his hair combed neatly and a pressed suit on. Not the level of refinement she was raised to expect in an escort to such an event, but she wouldn't trade him for a thousand fine princes. They danced for a few minutes only, as despite her efforts he was having quite a bit of trouble keeping off her feet. She suggested they get something to eat, and was somewhat disappointed when his professional demeanor returned after she offered her advice.
The rooftop revelation and all the chaos that came of it meant their date had ended quite effectively on the dance floor. A few days later, once the dust had been settled and the misery had been divided equally, they finally had a moment to relax and reflect on the rooftop.
It struck her to ask him what prompted the request for a date, after all these years. What had changed, what his intentions were.
He told her. He told her of how he first caught her scent and it snagged his heart, of how he knew her more completely than she truly knew herself, of his devotion if only given the chance.
She stood there some time, just letting the situation sink in. He waited, smoking quietly in the night air. Emotion stirred, and for the first time in a long while, she didn't fight it. She asked him to her apartment for coffee, to discuss the matter further.
They didn't actually get around to getting cups out until the following morning.
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