A Bushel of Lies - A Snow White Saga

03 | THREE

The Kingdom of Acplyna was picturesque, with rugged, beautiful, beachy coasts, icy mountains, thick, wild forests, foggy, swampy marshes, and crystal clear blue waters. There were all sorts of diversity, with stretches of great farmland, towering, bustling cities, quiet, suburban villages, and more; and it rained, snowed, and shined the perfect amount each day.

The Kingdom experienced all four seasons perfectly, and it managed to provide all sorts of trade; with its jewel mountains, filled with gold, gems, and iron (legend has it, the first king of Acplyna mined the mountains, and grew his fortune so much, he was able to buy enough land to become king of a huge kingdom), fine livestock, and delicious fruits. Never mind the fact it had a flourishing magical community, and myths surrounded every inch of the pristine, lush forests. Despite that the kingdom was young, it was quickly becoming one of the most powerful - and the most feared.

So why did a blood-curdling scream perpetrate the drowsy silence of the Acplyna castle? Why was Princess Evelyn Snow White out of bed at an ungodly hour - silk covers tightly wrapped around her and a terrified expression on her beautiful features? And why was an (admittedly handsome) man with a hunter's knife and a murderous expression standing in her chambers, no doubt about to murder her?

Evelyn didn't know, but after releasing a blood-curling scream, the princess fell silent - staring at the person who had attempted to murder her. A foul, despicable being, she decided - daring to take a life.

"Who are you?" Her voice, despite being croaky and deeper from just being awoken, wasn't shaky nor trembling. Clear and strong, it rang true across the candle-lit chamber. Sunlight spilled into the room - peeking through lace curtains and showing off the assassin's handsome features and... uncertainty(?) written across his face.

Tall and muscular, he was unquestionably handsome, with silky golden-blonde locks falling in front of deep chocolate brown eyes, along with perfectly chiseled features, a strong jawline, and dramatic cheekbones. He was wearing shades of forest green, brown, and black and had the calluses of a hunter on his large hands - a hunting knife almost as long as Evelyn's arm looking strangely small in his massive palm. He had the outfit of a huntsman - with the shoes to match. Soft-soled brown leather boots that looked worn thin graced his feet; a grim smile gracing his lips. He obviously didn't have a substantial amount of money, but when the huntsman lunged forward, Evelyn learned he was as quick and graceful on his feet as the best dancer.

Still, she had the advantage.

Evelyn was a fighter - she always had been from the moment she came out of the womb with a wail that shook the castle to its very core. And she was not going to die.

Evelyn's senses sharpened, her eyes widening to notice the huntsman tensing slightly on his right side, probably getting ready to lunge and then slash; his goal the soft white flesh of her neck, if she predicted correctly. Time slowed down as everything happened in hyper-detail - Evelyn's heart pumping as adrenaline seized control of her movements. Kicking upwards, Evelyn jammed her knee into the funny bone of his dominant arm and then - hooking her leg into the crook of his armpit - used the momentum to do some sort of aerial jumbo flip where she landed on her feet but forced the huntsman to the ground with an "oomph." Lashing out to kick his ribs as hard as she could; Evelyn quickly grabbed the silk blanket she had discarded during the fight and straddled him - using the blanket to bind his hands and pressing her forearm on the hunter's windpipe. On closer inception, he looked around 21, had flawless skin, and was well over six feet tall. Brown eyes twinkled, studying Evelyn's movements.

The hunter - not missing a beat - exhaled and Evelyn was too late in forcing her forearm down even harder. It was a trick, the exhale loosened Evelyn's grip and the man bucked his hips upwards, dislodging the princess and sending her tumbling to the floor. By the time she arose, he was standing as well, massaging his wrists that were just tightly bound with the make-shift, blanket bounds.