Oubliette

Prologue

Bigby backed his way out of the last cub's room quietly, savoring the look of the sleeping raven haired girl curled up against her stuffed bear. Every time he looked at her, he could see his wife, see her beauty as a child and every time it set a deep ache within him because he knew of her past.

𝑁𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑣𝑒𝑠.

He'd been warned when he first came to Fabletown. He never knew, never understood what that meant, until he witnessed someone shoot their mouth off and Snow White was being held in his cell for nearly murdering a fable. That was the only time he'd ever witnessed Snow White become so enraged, blood of their kind was nearly on her hands. That's when the old wolf really took to his job, to investigating and observing, taking the clues and putting together the pieces until he had a full story whether from the pure source itself or gathered from various sources. It took time, but eventually he got the full story about Snow White, whether she wanted him to or not. She was the first Fable he really knew everything about, and after that learning about the Fables came to him easily. Though being less than a beast was a bit more difficult.

"Bigby. . ." He heard Snow's soft voice calling to him from the hall's end, though it was strained and he could sense some unease. The wolf turned his head from the room to look at her, then held up his pointer to indicate for her to give him a moment more, but her uncharacteristic huff and folded arms told him this was something that couldn't wait.

He pulled his entire frame from the room, closing the door quietly behind himself as he quietly made his way down to where Snow stood waiting patiently. "Snow. . ." He says, his tone cautious as he comes to a halt just a few inches away.

"What was the story tonight?" Snow asks, her blue eyes looking past the wolf as she dodged whatever it was that had caused her to act so unlike herself in the first place.

"Winter insisted on the story of her mother." Bigby responds, his head tilting ever so slightly as he was trying to understand and gauge every reaction from Snow, no matter how big or small. He was putting more into his observation now, and saw her grasping his tie in her hand, the eye contact avoidance that was accompanied by a near constant brow furrowing. Something was most definitely wrong.

She sighs heavily and shakes her head, the atmosphere tinged thickly with disapproval, "Bigby, she's a little girl, you can't go telling her stories like that! You'll fill her head with nightmares!"

His brows furrow, arms fold over his chest as he gazes down at the woman with confused caramel eyes, "Since when was telling the cubs about our history such a crime? She's a tough little wolf, and she asked for the story. If she's old enough to ask, she's old enough to have an answer."

Snow's own folded arms fall away, her hands moving to firmly rest on her hips as she was scowling at Bigby, "Well maybe there are some things that they don't need to know, things that I don't 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 them to know." Like how she was a murderer, even if it was justified. She sure as hell didn't want her kids knowing that bad things happened to her. She didn't want them knowing the details of the bad things.

The wolf groans at this sudden difficulty from Snow and shakes his head. Something had set her off, that she was dealing with before him, but it didn't give her a pass to be ridiculous, "Snow, we live in a world that shit happens to our kind every day that mundy stories just can't explain or teach, the cubs should be prepared for such a world."

Up to this point, both had kept their voices relatively calm, but with Bigby's latest comment Snow seemed to have been pushed over the edge, "Bigby! It's not appropriate for the cubs, you need to stop telling them—telling them the stories!" The strength and animosity Snow exhumed made Bigby's brows rise and lean back. It was clear this was more than just about the stories, and the back and forth on them wasn't helping or getting them anywhere.