Snow-White sighed happily as she observed the table set for their Christmas dinner.
Seven little chairs, and one big, stood around it, seven small plates and one large, were laid upon it, seven tiny glasses and one tall, sat on its wooden top covered with white linen cloth. The roast duck was in the oven, where it would keep warm until her friends would come home, along with the Christmas Pudding. And the wine...
She brought her hand to her lips, brown eyes growing wide, when she realised that the wine was not where it should be.
The princess twirled around, looking for it, and finally spotted it on the window sill. There, perfect, she thought, walking over to the window, then setting the huge bottle in the centre of the dining table, that will suffice for everyone. But it was a shame that the old peasant woman, with whom the girl made friends over the years, did not have grapes, or at least cherries to sell today, just those eight red apples. Well, 'tis no wonder really, fresh fruits are rare in winter, in the mountains, she thought, lifting the small fruit basket off the table and moving it to the window sill, where the bottle had stood.
Seeing that all was ready, Snow-White ran upstairs, into her room. So much time had passed since she came to live here, with the dwarfs, and the shy, ten-years-old girl was now a twenty-years-old young woman, too big to sleep in any of the dwarf's beds. However, the small, friendly creatures adapted their dwelling to the growing girl's size gradually, and suitably.
And she loved them truly for all their care and affection.
Snow-White changed her everyday dress for a brand new one, which she was saving for this occasion, pulling at the laces of her stays impatiently when she heard her friends entering the cottage, singing merrily.
They are early, she thought, smiling to herself, not blaming them for leaving the mines before the nightfall, at least once a year. What was all their digging good for, what they did with all the gold and silver they found was beyond her, they never brought much of it home.
She gathered her ebony black hair into her usual chignon quickly, and with the last twirl in front of the large mirror she blew out the candles and descended the creaky, wooden staircase, letting it announce her arrival.
The appreciative, collective sigh from her seven dwarf friends told her how much they liked her floor-length, bright blue gown embroidered with gold, which made her finally look like the real princess she was.
"Ma... marry me!" One of the dwarfs sprang up from his place by the table the moment he saw her, toppling his chair over and making all the others laugh.
"Don't listen to him, marry me instead," another one whispered, looking at her with slightly unfocused eyes, as she served him the roast duck.
"Those were for after," Snow-White laughed, ignoring his words and pointing to the half eaten apple lying next to his plate.
"It's me you should marry." The next one told her after she collected their empty plates, and brought the pudding to the table.
"No way! Me, marry me, Snow-White!" yet another voice called from the far end of the table.
What's gone into them tonight? She mused, scanning the bottle of wine suspiciously. It was still half full, and she had drunk more than one glass herself. The princess shook her head and stood up again, to open the door this time.
Hmm... 'tis a little late for visitors, she thought even as someone fell to her feet the moment the door was opened, pushed inside the cottage by a strong gust of wind, and followed by a flurry of huge snowflakes.
"I... thank you, my lady," the heap of clothes spoke, as it scrambled to its feet, towering above her.
Snow-White gasped, she had never seen anyone this tall... The young man, sporting a golden crown on his head, looked a lot like a fairy tale prince, despite being a little ruffled by the weather.
"Come... come in, please. You must be cold and hungry..." Snow-White offered, blushing, as she closed the door securely, then bolted it too, just in case.
She filled a plate with food for the new-comer and brought it to him to the table, where he was already seated on her chair, the only one his size.
Leaving the prince to eat and talk to her friends, after having scowled in warning at the four strangely behaving ones, who were now exchanging dark looks and hostile gestures over the table separating them, Snow-White went to sit, a new glass of wine in hand, on the window sill. From there she had a perfect view of their guest. He is so tall, dark and handsome, and... oh sooo tall...
She drained her glass and sighed longingly, looking up at him shyly when he came to sit next to her, the moment he finished eating. The prince picked up the basket of apples and sat down, very close to her, looking at the red, shiny fruits absentmindedly.
"Would you... like an apple, my lady?" he asked suddenly, passing the basket to her.
Wait! One, two, three... she counted quickly. Four of the eight apples were missing... four of her friends suddenly decided they wanted to marry her... Hmm...
"Only if you'll have one, too, my lord," she piped, looking in his large blue eyes, hoping she was right.
Snow-White had spent too much time with her dwarfs, hidden in the mountains, cooking and cleaning and waiting for them to come home, only to cook and clean and wait again... I'm twenty, for goodness' sake, 'tis time to move on...
With bated breath she watched the prince choose one of the apples. She picked one as well, and opening the small, diamond window quickly, she tossed the last two blood-red apples in the deep snow covering the world outside.
The prince raised an eyebrow at her, looking confused, but asked no questions. Instead, he sank his teeth into his apple, watching her do the same.
They stared at each other for a few moments, their eyes losing their focus a little, before they asked in unison, "Will you... marry me?"
They laughed, and nodded, and when all the dwarfs, some happier about it than others, agreed that the prince was a far better match for Snow-White than any of them, kissed, too.
Then, the following morning, after having shared the only prince size bed of the cottage, Snow-White and her prince set off on their journey towards his castle. Afoot, as the prince's horse ran off in the snow storm of the previous night, and hopefully in the right direction, as everything looked the same under the fresh layer of snow.
Thus, if they found their way home, they got married, and lived happily ever after. And if not...
But that is a different tale.
Hoppla! Dieses Bild entspricht nicht unseren inhaltlichen Richtlinien. Um mit dem Veröffentlichen fortfahren zu können, entferne es bitte oder lade ein anderes Bild hoch.
********* This story was written for Imagine this... Writing workshop.
Prompt: Write a story (fantasy) about someone who gets proposed to five times on Christmas Eve.
