A Well of Dreams

Tomorrow I die.

Tonight, though, I can still make believe there is more time. My hands work fast, sometimes they move so fast they blur together - or maybe that is my eyes that blur. In the prison cell I sit on my nettles, my work. Exhaustion cripples me but I must not stop, I cannot stop. It was all my fault and I am the only one who can save them. I owe them that, at least. I must finish this impossible task, even if I die. I will work and work until my last moment so when I die, I will at least know that I did everything I could, I will at least know that I tried. Oh dear God, I pray. Please do not let me fail. Please let me succeed. I do not want to die. I want to live. I want to see them again. I want to hear their laughter, I want to hold their children and dance with them. But most of all, oh God, most of all, I wish to see him. There is so much I wish to tell him. I love him, God, I love him and if I die, he will never know. Water clouds my eyes. I blink and tears fall. I want to tell him my love for him runs deeper than any sea.

The door opens. I do not look up. A slant of light from the hall outside falls on my face but still I do not look up. "You brought this upon yourself you know." The sneering voice is recognizable in an instant. Queen Brigitta. Even without looking I can see her face: stark white pale from too much powder, lips red as blood, tiny black crescent moons painted at the edges of her eyes. I'm only surprised that she would venture down to the dungeon to see me. She cares more about sullying her perfect shoes than the fact that there are people down here who are dying a slow, awful death - simply because they were so poor they had to steal. "This is all your fault, witch," she cackles.

I look up, my hands stop. For one terrifying moment I wish to open my mouth, to call her the witch, to proclaim my innocence. But then I look back at my work. I have come so far and have worked so hard. I cannot sacrifice that in a moment of petty weakness. I begin to work again. Queen Brigitta laughs again. "I'll see you at the gallows, witch." With that, she slams the door and locks it. I hear her footsteps trailing away.

My hands tremble with anger and I pause to let one more tear fall. No sound escapes my lips. This is my task. And I must complete it.



My mother and father were blessed from birth. My mother was a beautiful and intelligent princess who came from the South and was, at birth, betrothed to my father. At seventeen she was shipped off to the Northeast and to my father's prosperous kingdom, where he, at twenty and one, was already known as one of the most just and kind kings the kingdom had ever seen. My mother was loathe to leave, as she was convinced my father would be just like the suitors who had come for her sister's hands - stupid, arrogant and unworthy. My father, however, was none of these things. My father's carefree personality, easy smile and handsome face belied a shrewd intelligence and an appreciation for anyone who dared to argue with him. The first night they met, my mother and father engaged in one of the most heated debates on political policy the palace had ever seen. The second night they declared a truce and discovered the myriad of things they had in common. The third night, they realized how passionately in love with each other they were.

Their blessings only continued. My mother bore eleven perfect sons who all had fair hair and cherubian faces. However, with each son my mother bore, a sort of sadness continued to gnaw at her. She loved her sons deeply but longed for a daughter. And this was where their blessings ended.

On a cold winter's morning my mother was taking a walk in the garden. Most of the plants were dead this time of year, however, my mother soon came upon a snow covered tree bearing bright, red berries. On the branches of the tree, a dark raven sat, its beak tucked into its feathers. My mother sighed. "Oh how I wished I could have a daughter with skin as pale as the snow, hair as black as a raven's feather and lips as red as those berries! How I would love her, my little Snow Rose!"

Instantly the raven became a small, fat woman clad in black and covered in warts. Frightened, my mother stepped back, but the little witch smiled. "What you wish shall become so, my queen. However, on your Snow Rose's sixteenth birthday, you will lose all of your sons." With that, the little witch became a raven once more and flew off. Tears streaming down her eyes, my mother rushed to my father and told him the story. My father gave my mother his easy smile, smoothed her hair and told her not to worry. He did not believe in witches.

Nine months later, my mother gave birth to a daughter with skin as pale as winter, hair as black as a raven's feather and lips as red as berries. Me. Little Snow Rose. True to her word, my mother did love me. I was doted on by my parents and my brothers, who I loved desperately. From my gilded crib I watched them run in and out of my nursery and hoisted myself up on my legs long before any of my brother's ever had so I could run behind them and tag along in their games.

They were boys; moreover, they were my brothers, so they were inclined to leave me out of things. When I was at my littlest I would wail and cry until Mother would pick me up and rock me gently against her breast and scold my brothers for not letting me play with them. We had nurses, of course, but Mother was always there when we needed her most. As I grew older, I stopped crying. I stopped letting them leave me out. If they ran from me, I ran faster. I pushed my way into their love until they adored me.

Growing up with eleven brothers did take its toll, however. I did not understand why the other girls my nurse socialized me with thought it was strange and horrid that I was being taught how to fence, joust and ride (they were positively appalled when I asked them what sidesaddle was). They gasped when I showed off my bruises and bloody scrapes - battle wounds, in my mind - from games and fights with the boys. Still, I was a princess from a powerful kingdom, and the little girls came and sat with me and drank our tea and played pretend and sewed and dreamed about knights and princes and folktales and true love. I scoffed at their silly ideas; why would anyone want to sit around in a stuffy gown and corset when there was a perfectly good tree to climb?

It became worse when I turned thirteen and, as Mother so delicately explained, blossomed into a woman. I knew nothing of my unconventional birth - Mother had mentioned it to no one besides Father - but the witch must have had the intention of making my existence as difficult as possible. I was "blessed" with ample breasts and wide hips, and while some of my brothers had grown spotty when they turned thirteen, my skin stayed snowy pale. Mother, my nurses and my governesses tutted and trilled over my beauty, the girls I took tea with moaned at how they wished they were as full as I was, but I loathed every single part of me. Mother didn't understand when I told her this. Neither did my nurses, nor my "friends." They all asked why I did not feel comfortable with my beauty. They gave me blank stares as if beauty was all that mattered in a woman, nay, a person.

The truth was, for all my outwardly beauty, I felt no prettier than rough stone on the inside. Corsets made my body so stiff I could barely talk and breathe, the full skirts and high-heeled slippers I was forced to wear made me stumble. I was graceless and awkward. Governess after governess tried her best to make me a lady - tried and failed. Miserably.

I was sure things could get no worse, however, on my fourteenth birthday, I started to receive male callers. At first I naively thought they were here for my brothers and that they weren't interested in me. At least two of my brothers were present each time one of these strange men came. Not understanding what was going on, I challenged them to duels and debates, races and contests. After the seventh man, left, however, my eldest brother the Crown Prince Elrik, who was in his late twenties by that time, looked me in the eye. "Snow Rose," he said, shaking his head. "They are not here to debate with you. They are here because they are interested in marrying you." Although I cannot remember much of what happened after that, I do remember feeling quite sick. I excused myself and went to find Mother, who confirmed what Elrik had told me. I also remember locking myself in my room until Mother and Father caved and allowed me to wait a few more years. They finally conceded to understand that I was not ready for marriage.

I didn't think I'd ever be ready for marriage. I didn't want to marry at all. I wanted to stay in the castle with my brothers and Mother and Father and learn astronomy and geometry and how to jump my great horses over the highest fences and how to sneak into the tallest tower at exactly midnight on the night of the star shower.

The girls who continued to see me were no better. The moment one of my brother's came into the room - it did not matter which brother - they were sent into an absolute dither. They flirted and blushed and smiled coquettishly. And the first time one of my brother's flirted back sent a feeling like knives in my stomach. How dare that little witch try and take Stephan away from me? How dare she! I thought, over and over again.

By the time I was nearing sixteen, Mother had all but forgotten about the witch's promise. However, the week before my birthday celebration, Mother remembered. She sobbed the story again to Father one night as they laid themselves down to bed and he remembered, but now he felt uneasy. They decided it would be best if they did not tell us. Instead, on the eve of my sixteenth birthday, they asked my brothers to sleep all together in the tallest tower. They locked the tower up tight, thinking that this would protect them from the witch. But when has anything like that ever worked?

That night I dreamed of my brothers sleeping in the tallest tower, a rush of stars all around them, swallowing them like a vast sea. I saw a large black bird cut across the night sky, a black dart against indigo satin. I dreamed of the bird slipping in through a cracked-open window. I dreamed of the bird becoming a squat, ugly woman who blew black witch-dust across the faces of my brothers. They awoke and all shuddered in their bed and when they had slipped back into consciousness, they were eleven gleaming swans. I dreamed the swans flew behind the woman, now once again a bird, out into the night. I dreamed and dreamed and dreamed of them flying over an open sky, the silver tips of their wings touching starlight. When I awoke, a terror gripped me. And that is something I shall never, never forget.

When I learned that my brothers were gone, I knew the dream I'd had was not simply a dream. With tears streaming down my face, I begged Mother to tell me what had happened to them. With grief-stricken eyes, she explained the incident that had occurred, those sixteen years ago in the garden; seeing the snow, the bird and the berries, wanting a beautiful daughter and then having me...and forgetting the price she would have to pay. I screamed then, I cannot remember ever screaming so much. I screamed for them to let me go find my brothers. My mother clutched my shoulders and held me to her and told me that I was never again to leave the castle. She would not lose me, too, she said. I tried to get Father to reason with her, but he agreed. They could not lose me. I was all they had.

Nobody came for me after that. No male suitors, no female companions. I was left utterly alone. I did not know if it was because my parents blamed me for what had happened to my brothers, or if it was because I blamed myself. Still, I cannot explain the emptiness that consumed me each day when I thought of how my brothers departure was because of me...or at the very least, would not have happened if it were not for me. Something in the back of my head told me that it was not my fault, that it was my mother's, but I was yet a child then. I did not know. Did not understand. Did not care to. My only wish was to be alone in my grief and solitude. An entire year passed like that. Yet on the eve of my seventeenth birthday, I once more had a dream about my brothers. I dreamed they flew in the sky by day as swans, but as soon as night's fingertips touched their wings, they became men. I dreamed of a castle in a far off land where they lived. I dreamed of a field of daisies. When I awoke this time it was midnight and the moon, a silver boat high in sky, blinked at me. Without thinking, I collected together as many things as I could fit in a pack, dressed in traveling clothes and walked out the front door, into the night.

For days and weeks and months I traveled. If I had been any other young woman, I might not have survived. Growing up with eleven brothers, however, had taught me to be tough in the face of hardship. Seasons changed as I traveled on - by foot, by boat and by cart. I did odd jobs for people I came across for food and lodging, learned to figure out those I could not trust from those I could and was taught to hunt and cook small animals with a traveling group I briefly joined. It was not easy, but every so often I'd have the same dream of my brothers as swans and men. On those mornings I would awake once again determined to find them. From men I learned to use a crossbow, from women I was taught that I should hide my beauty, for I could never know what kind of man I might run into. Indeed, during that short time with the group of travelers, I was offered gold in exchange for my virtue. Growing up with eleven brothers had left me with little wonder at what that implied and, as I tried my best to cover a blush, I declined.

There was a brief time in the beginning where I worried that I would be caught, or worse, that I would never find my brothers. However, as winter melted into Spring I felt my soul stretch across the expanse of land before me. I could feel their beating swan hearts, could hear the flapping of their wings on the breeze.

I kept track of the days in a small journal, and on my eighteenth birthday, I encountered an old woman peddling potions on the side of the road. She had an odd, familiar look to her and I approached her. I questioned everyone I saw if they'd ever seen eleven swans. A few people had pointed me in various directions, but they all became dead ends. I was growing despondent and weary and, more importantly, lost. I knew nothing of where I was or how I would ever return home.

The old woman, whose hair blew in the breeze like soft down feathers, regarded me with an amused expression as I approached her. "Little Snow Rose," she said and nodded, her smile widening into an almost toothless grin. I recoiled in disgust and then realized with a jolt that she knew me, knew my name, knew who I was. "You're braver than I imagined...go, down the path through the woods there. Wait until twilight. Tell me what you find."

I tried to speak but found that words failed me. Instead I shook my head in wonder and took off down a wooded path I hadn't noticed before that lay beside her. I did not look back. My feet carried me through a small wood where I passed the curious looks of two white-tailed deer and found myself soon at a small inlet bordering an unexpected sea. The sky was a pale, pale blue and I stared at it until it looked stark white. There was nothing here...then again, the witch had told me to wait until twilight. Anxiety racked my body. I undressed, bathed myself thoroughly in the sea, washed my clothes, took in the sun while making sure I stayed carefully hidden and then dressed as the sun began to lose its warmth.

I shivered as the afternoon gave way to a paste sunset, my eyes glued to the sky. The relief of finally seeing my brothers was overshadowed by the doubt that the witch had lied to me.

And yet, as the sunset faded into a purple twilight, I saw upon the horizon several dark shapes. My heart jumped into my throat as I made my way to the water. The shapes got closer and closer as the sun was swallowed deeper and deeper into the sea. Eleven dark shapes against the sky. Eleven swans. They were descending. I watched them settle not too far from me. As the last tiny bit of angry red sun was captured by Poseidon, their gleaming bodies shuddered and in one moment, eleven swans swam, now stood eleven young men.

Tears streamed down my face as I rushed to my brothers. They were shocked, yet glad, to see me and I spotted even in the eyes of my toughest brother, Charles, a welling of tears. We embraced, laughed, and spoke of what had happened. I explained to them the dream I'd had, how I'd discovered that it was because of me that they were swans and my unwavering need to find them at all cost. They explained to me that at night they became human once more, but as soon as the sun rose, they would once more change into swans. The had no knowledge of any way this curse could be broken, and although they insisted that I return home now that I knew what had become of them, I insisted that they take me with them to the castle I'd dreamed of. That was their new home. They argued with me, shouted at me, and told me that their way of life was no way of life for a fragile young princess. With a scoff I told them that I'd traveled on my own for a year, that I was learned in the ways of the world, that I was no longer young or fragile and furthermore, that I had no idea how to get back, even if I wanted to.

They conceded to that. All night we talked of what had passed. I told them of my travels, of the men and women who had guided me, how I had learned to disguise my beauty so I would not be bothered, how I was now strong and able. They'd never before doubted my capabilities, but I had grown in ways they never could have imagined over the last two years. During that night, after I made them promise to take me with them, we set to weaving a large basket made of the rushes that grew along the water's edge. We weaved and talked and laughed until the sky became as blue as a sapphire and then, lighting to a steely gray. When the first bursts of sun came over the horizon, my brothers once again became swans. I crawled into the basket and my three strongest brothers took the long handles into their beaks and rose me up, up into the sky.

The sensation of flying was indescribable. I felt my heart lift and dip with every movement of their wings. We flew away from the sun, racing it as it climbed ever higher. I could tell I was slowing them down, though, and as afternoon started to fall, I became worried.

What would happen if my brothers became human while we were still in the air? We were so high up that we might die just from the fall, and then how could we survive in the freezing water all night? It was Spring, yes, but early still. I squeezed my eyes shut as the sun surrendered once more to the ocean. We were diving downward, I could not look, we were all going to die...

With a not-so-soft thump, we landed. Apprehension filled me as I opened my eyes, but to my relief, I was watching as my brothers all stood transforming into men once more as we all crowded on a small rock. The danger was far from over, however. A storm passed through the air that night, and we huddled together for warmth and to keep each other alive as I stared up at the shouting sky and wondered if this was another test that the witch was asking me to pass. Give me anything, witch, and I shall overcome it. Give me any hardship and I will face it. I repeated these words over and over, and by the time the sun was once again lifted into the sky, the clouds had passed and the air was filled with a warm sense of summer in the wind. Optimism, which had once been such a stranger to me, now filled my heart as we once again rose in the air.

It was not long now, my brothers had explained. We would surely make it to the castle before nightfall. With this knowledge I consigned myself to enjoying the flight. Sometimes other birds would join my brothers and me - a sure sign we were close to land. I threw out my arms and kept my eyes straight ahead, pretending to be flying too. I marveled at how strange life could be. Once I was an awkward girl who desired nothing more than to be free. Now, oh, now what was I? I did not know. And I did not care. I only wanted to be with my brothers. I only wanted for them to see the sun with human eyes.

By noontime I could see a spit of land in the distance. Soon a dark shape became clear on the land and the dark shape eventually became a large, ornate castle on white cliffs. We flew over the castle and over the large meadow full of daises and over a small wood to a tiny crystal pond. My brothers landed on the edge of the pond and as I got out of the basket, they waded into the water. One of them - I couldn't tell who - looked back to me as if to say this is where we spend most of our days. I nodded and turned away from the pond, knowing they'd be back tonight. I ran through the tiny wood back to the meadow of daisies and fell to my knees, my eyes glancing upward at the castle before me.

Crystal tears fell and although I did not know why I cried, I let them fall where they may. Everything had changed so fast! I had once been but a girl whose only worries were how to avoid getting married. Now I was sitting alone while my swan brothers swam in the pond. Loneliness and misery descended upon me even when I tried to fight it off. My brothers did not feel this way, I had no right to be unhappy. They were the ones who were swans, not I. Still, I could not shake the grief.

Days passed. The castle that my brothers lived in was lavishly decorated, which gave me comfort. The witch was not so evil. She had not killed my brothers, she was not even letting them live in harsh conditions. I did do quite a bit of wondering about why the witch would turn my brothers into swans instead of kill them. She had told my mother that she would lose her sons forever. Why not simply take them away from the earth? Why place an enchantment on them? I pondered these questions for so long until I realized I was driving myself mad with them. What did it matter? The witch was just that, a witch. And when did witches need excuses for anything? So I forced myself not to wonder and instead marvel at how lovely the castle was. The witch must have been expecting me, for I had my own chamber that was decorated in my favorite color - a deep midnight blue. I had spent much time out of doors and had slept on the ground many nights and because of that, I had grown used to the hard forest floor and difficult living conditions. The witch had made sure my bed was not too soft and the room was not too ornately furnished. Everything was pleasant, yet not overdone. She had provided me with simple cotton shifts, knowing well that I would not be used to corsets after such a long time.

By day I often sat in the daisy meadow, making crowns and necklaces for myself, or I watched my brothers swim on the pond. At times they would laze on the waves of the sea and I would sit on the sandy shore, build cities made of wet sand, watch them and smile. When I wasn't with my brothers I was exploring the castle. There seemed to be a limitless amount of rooms for my brothers and now me to live in. There were music rooms, galleries, libraries...anything my heart wished. And although I thumbed through book after book about witch magic, none ever told me how to break an enchantment such as the one my brothers were under.

Life was lonely, but I did not dare tell my brothers that. At night we ate well, served by invisible hands and laughed until quite late. Then we would retire to our beds and in the morning they would be gone before I woke up. The nights and the time I had with them were my comforts during the day, but I missed them all the time. Even at night, even when they were human, I missed them. There was always a sense of urgency about them, as if we only had so much time to say what we wanted to each other. It was true. We did not have so much time.

Every night was another goodbye.

Spring edged into Summer and one morning I stood with my toes in the water, looking out to my eleven brothers as they let the lazy waves carry them out to sea. They never went farther than I could see, if only for my sake. They always were back before sunset. Today I just watched and smiled and felt sad. My usual daily routine. The only thing different about today was the fact that today, I voiced a thought that had burrowing in my head for some time now. "I wish there was something I could do to help them," I mused.

In that instant, the witch appeared. She grinned an awful grin. "There is," she told me. "There is a way to lift the enchantment. But it is hard. Very hard."

"I don't care how hard it is," I replied, knowing this was true. I looked out to sea. "I can walk to the ends of the earth if I must. I have before."

The witch laughed. "Oh no, child. This is much more difficult." I blanched and swallowed, but let her go on. "Do you know the stinging nettles that lay all in the forest? You must gather those with your bare hands and then you must tread them with your bare feet until they become flax. And after you have done that, you must sew them into eleven coats of mail for your brothers."

"That is not so difficult." I disregarded the fact that nettles, when touched, burned and itched.

"And during that time," the witch continued, "you must not make a sound. Not one noise. You cannot speak, sing, laugh or cry. Not one noise. Not one word. Nothing. Silence. Because if you do, your brothers will be wild swans until the day they die and there will be nothing you can do." With that, she was gone. I knew here task must start straight away. I swallowed and looked out to sea. I can do this. I can do this. I repeated over and over in my head. I ran up the narrow stairs cut into the cliff, ran behind the ornate castle and into the woods where the stinging nettles grew. Without thinking, I yanked one up by a root. As soon as I touched it, the plant burned me. I opened my mouth to make a yelp of pain but closed it immediately. This would be harder than I thought.

After that initial blunder, I became more skilled. I learned where to grasp the nettles so they did not hurt me too much, although before long my hands and arms were red from burns and scratches and my feet were red as well from the treading. I weaved the flax I made on a great loom in one of the many beautiful rooms. And when I finished the first coat of mail, my eyes filled with tears of joy. It had not taken me so long to complete this one. I only had ten more to go. My brothers would be free before long.

They asked often what had happened to me, yet each time they asked I simply shook my head. When they asked me if I was all right, I nodded profusely. I'd like to think they took solace in knowing that my task filled me with joy. It gave me a sense of purpose, it filled me with the knowledge that I was useful. All my life I had been nothing more than a figurehead; a beautiful princess taking tea with her friends, a silly girl trying to catch up to her brothers, and most of all, a brainless bride-to-be, a plaything and for a spoiled prince who needed me for nothing more than appearance. With each stitch I felt my sense of accomplishment grow. It had felt this way when I had been searching for my brothers those many months. This was my task, it was something I could do, and I was needed for it.

It seemed that nothing could pull me from my joy. Every day in silence gave me such happiness that it was difficult to contain it all. Spring deepened into Summer and I completed one coat of mail after another. And on one beautiful July morning, as I sat in the daisy meadow, sewing another coat of mail, a procession of horses came out of the woods. I'd seen horses come our way before, but they had never bothered us. If I'd seen them I'd only smiled and watched as they passed on. No one really had any business with a young woman living in a strange stone palace.

This procession was obviously noble. I remembered what my brother's hunting parties were often like. Horse after horse after horse, all covered in gleaming golden armor, carrying the flags of the kingdom. This procession was from a kingdom deep in the West. Had I really gone so far from home?

I thought they would ride on, looking for something more interesting, but the front two hunters took notice of me and stopped the party. Fear tingled through my hands but I continued sewing. I was almost done with this coat of mail. I must continue, not caring about what was happening around me. I heard the hunters' voice as they called for the Prince to come see 'The Wild Daisy Maiden'. My cheeks flushed and I wished to lash them with one of the crueler put downs my mother had taught me to use if I was cut in a social situation. I kept my mouth shut, however. This was far more important than two idiots on horseback. And what did it matter if the Prince wished to see me. Let him come. I had far more important things to do.

Hearing footsteps, I looked down until curiosity got the better of me. When I looked up, I was astounded by the beauty of the man standing before me. He was tall and broad with dark skin and dark eyes that held an amused glint. He knelt down to me. "I am Andrei, Prince of the West. Who are you, fine maiden?" I did not reply. "Surely you cannot find me so priggish. What, do you not care for my father's politics? I assure you I am unlike him." Still I said nothing. "I see then. Well, then, if you will say nothing, I am sure you will not shout at me if I take a seat beside you and watch you sew." I flushed, but could not say a word. Prince Andrei looked up to his men. "We will settle here for the night. Set up the camp at the wood's edge." The men did as they were told, and although they cast their prince an odd gaze, they turned away and settled not too far from where I sat. I tried and tried to concentrate on my sewing and my brothers, however, my mind kept wandering to the handsome young man sitting next to me. I could feel the heat radiating off his body and it settled around me. My tongue felt thick in my throat. I'd never longed so hard to break my promise and speak. I didn't, however. I held my tongue, despite it all. "You will not at least tell me your name?" Prince Andrei asked. I shook my head. "Can you speak at all, then?" I nodded. "You just choose not to speak to me?" I shook my head. "You choose not to speak at all?" I gave him a frustrated look. "There is more to the story that I do not understand." I nodded slowly. "That is all right. I only wish to sit here with you."

And so he did.

For days he did. Each day he would make an excuse to his huntsmen, especially the man in charge, Vindar, as to why they could not depart that day. Andrei had been practically raised by the aging Vindar, and it showed. They quarreled the way my brothers and I did, the way I used to with my parents. Vindar and Andrei were family, and he told me so. He did not speak much to me, but he did tell me that he had always thought of Vindar as his father, not the King.

Eventually I did find a way to tell him my name. He grew so agitated that I stood up, pulled him up and led him down to the small pond, one hand in his and the other holding a coat of mail. At the shore, I picked up a stick and wrote in the sand Snow Rose. Andrei looked at me. "Is that your name?" he asked. I nodded. "Snow Rose." His voice was soft. I liked the way my name sounded in his mouth. "It suits you." I grinned, not daring to laugh. I could not explain that of course it suited me. I was named because of a silly wish my mother had made for me to be as pale as the snow, as black as a raven's wing and as red as a rose. "Snow Rose," he said again and I stopped smiling.

I looked at him then, and he turned his eyes to me. Andrei once more took my hand in his and leaned down to me and kissed my lips softly. The kiss filled my heart with a sort of soaring joy and my stomach with a fluttering, nervous feeling. "When I first saw you, I knew. I knew I was meant to love you. Does that sound foolish? Does that sound stupid? I care little." I nodded, wanting to tell him that I'd had no care for men before I'd seen his face and I knew I would never have a care for any other man again. "I care not that you will not speak. Will you marry me, Snow Rose?"

I did not know how to respond. If I shook my head no it meant that I did not love him, which I was quickly coming to believe I did. If I nodded yes, I would be taken away from my brothers and my task. Not knowing what to do and not being able to explain myself, I threw my arms around Andrei. I did not know if he would understand. He embraced me back and again we kissed and kissed until my lips were numb from his. Then, entwining my fingers with his own, he pulled me from the pond and took me to where his camp was. "Everyone, let us depart. Vindar, please go into the palace and fetch Snow Rose's weaving. She is coming with us. Soon I shall be married!"

The entire party of men erupted into cheers. I grabbed Andrei around the side and grasped him to me. He had known. Without even asking me he had known. I didn't even understand why or how. All I knew was that without a doubt I loved him. More than anything I loved him and I always would. Andrei slung me onto his horse and as we rode, I sewed. I looked at the sky and hoped that my brothers would know where I had gone. They would come find me. They had known about Andrei. They had seen him. They had asked if he was hurting me, I had shook my head no. They asked if they should say something to him and I shook my head no. Andrei knew nothing about them, but they must know. Elrik asked one night, as we were all departing for bed, if I loved him. I had not known what to say then, I had just felt my skin go quite cold. Elrik had laughed and embraced me. "He must be a good man, Snow Rose, for there never was a greater judge of character than you, my darling sister." I had not wanted to believe it then, but I did now.

Vindar had my nettles and weaving placed in my new room at the palace. My room was not decorated in the same way that my old one had been, but the bed was still not too soft. As soon as I was let into my room I began my work once more. Joy filled me. Soon I would be married to Andrei, soon I would lift the enchantment and soon I would be able to tell Andrei all that I wished.

My future husband came to my room often. Mostly he sat by me and watched me sew. Once he had brought a book he was reading in with him and had asked me if I wished for him to read out loud. I nodded with a smile. I had read little since beginning my task, and I missed it. Hearing Andrei's voice as he spoke of the heroic adventures of Athos, Porthos, Aramis and D'Artagnon gave me pleasure, and many days passed where we would sit in my room comfortably, me sewing, him reading. Sometimes he would kiss me until I was dizzy from it, sometimes he would whisper sweet words into my ear. I tried to answer his words with my eyes. I tried to tell him all I felt about him.

I gained many friends in the palace. The maids and servants were all kind and genteel and the townsfolk always had a smile and a hello waiting for me. I would enjoy living here, I knew. Still, my eyes often wandered to the sky and I wondered often, a strange ache in my heart, where my brothers were.

It seemed like the one person who did not approve of me was Andrei's step-mother, Queen Brigitta. Andrei's mother had died in childbirth and the king, who I'd only seen in passing, had married quickly. Brigitta was no loving mother, however. She was vain - I'd never seen her without a layer of white powder on her face, crescent moons and stars painted at the edges of her eyes, her lips blood red. She had aged gracelessly and no amount of makeup could cover that. She berated me because she knew I would say nothing back. She called me common, she called me a peasant, she called me a filthy whore. She told me that her step-son was too good for me, that I - worthless trash - should never be with him. If she were King, she told me, she'd change the law. There were times when I wished to do nothing more than drop my sewing down and scream at her until I was hoarse, yell at her my noble background, tell her that she was not king and so her opinions mattered none at all, but I did not. My love of my brothers was too great. I listened to her, though. I had to. Her voice was too loud to drown out with my thoughts alone.

My days in Andrei's castle were not so bad - I relished the moments with my future husband and the kindness of the people who surrounded me. I was forever filled with a sort of restlessness, though, and I attributed it to the fact that I didn't know where my brothers were. Each night I looked at the stars and silently prayed that they would come to me.

And then there was that I was running out of nettles. I had half of coat of mail to finish and no flax or nettles to finish it with. I'd seen nettles growing around the cemetery in town, but I knew that was where the town witches would gather at night. They liked to commune on freshly dug graves of the recently deceased. I'd never had any trouble with witches and I realized that in relation to most people, I had much more experience with them. There were rumors about the witches in town, that they ate the bones of not only the dead, but the living. I may die if I ventured to get the nettles from them. But if I did not, my brothers would never be human again and I would never speak again. I could not give up now. The witch had told me I would need courage, and I had promised her courage was one thing I had.

On a hot, humid night in early September, I took a single candle and a basket and ventured out into the stifling darkness. I was not familiar with this land, I could not run over it with my eyes closed and know every pebble the way I did at home. My old home. Had it truly been two years since I'd seen my mother and father? As I stumbled on, I thought of them, the one thing I had forced myself not to do when I'd set off for my brothers. I was all they'd had, my mother had told me. I could not go after my brothers because I was all they had. Soon you will see them again, Snow Rose. Be brave, you must be brave. I pursued the darkness until I heard chanting not too far off. The witches were near, and that meant the cemetery was also close. I gathered the basket towards my chest and at the first sign of light, I extinguished my candle. The witches stood in a circle around the grave, singing. They did not look like the storybook witches, or even the witch who had put the enchantment on my brothers. Some were older and some were younger, but they all had pleasant faces contorted in concentration. I almost burst out laughing. There was nothing evil about them.

I kept quiet, though. I did not wish them to think I was a spy, or worse, someone who was going to arrest them. I snuck around the cemetery and gathered the nettles. I did not even feel the pain or the itch anymore. I shoved the nettles into my basket and made to get back on the path towards the castle when all of a sudden I was stopped by fifteen bright-burning lamps and the faces of Andrei, Vindar, Queen Brigitta and eleven other members of the Royal Guard.

"See, Andrei? What did I tell you! She's a witch!" Brigitta's voice was as slippery as a snake. I recoiled. No one moved. "You thought you could get away with this, didn't you, witch? Come into my kingdom, seduce my son, lie to all of our faces...all you wanted was power, and then you would destroy us with your heathen ways!" I don't know how I kept my silence. I must have thought of my brothers and them only. This pain would pass. My brothers' would not if I failed them now. "Well, witch, what have you got to say for yourself?" Nothing. I looked at Andrei. His face was horror stricken. I made a move towards him but Brigitta held me back. "Don't you dare touch my son, you filthy animal. Vindar, clap her in irons and throw in the dungeon. Tomorrow we burn her like the witch she is."

"Brigitta-" Andrei started, his voice tight with anguish. "Please, Brigitta, this isn't necessary."

"Isn't necessary? Andrei, are you stupid? You've trusted a girl who does not even speak to you. She clearly has a plan to take down the castle. What else could she mean by all this infernal silence and sewing? She's a witch."

"Let her at least prove her innocence-" A tear escaped Andrei's eye. He started again towards me and I move to him but Brigitta gave a look at Vindar and reluctantly he and some of the other guardsmen held Andrei down. He moved against them. "Snow Rose, if you are innocent, please say something now! Please, speak your innocence!" Andrei cried, struggling against his captors. I opened my mouth to proclaim my innocence. It did not matter. Nothing mattered besides seeing Andrei again, living another day. If I spoke now I could go free, I could be free, I could speak and laugh and kiss Andrei and I could live and dance and be filled with joy...but...no. I would never be filled with joy. Only guilt. If I lived now and my brothers flew over me everyday as swans then I would forever despise myself. I could never live with that sort of pain and guilt. And I wanted to see my brothers again. I wanted to see them grow older. I wanted all of us to grow old together. Tears filled my eyes. I held the nettles against me. "Please..." Andrei's voice was a whisper. I said nothing.

"Take her to the dungeon." Brigitta gave me look of ice, but on her painted ruby lips sat a smile of satisfaction.

She had won.



And here I sit. They threw in my nettles and flax and coats of mail for me to sleep on and if I could I would thank them a million times. I spend this last night here on earth sewing. I do not think of Andrei. I do not think of Brigitta. I do not think of my mother or my father. I do not think of me. I do not think even of my brothers. I think only of sewing. Of completing this last coat of mail. That is the only thing that matters now and my fingers blur over the mail. After that last tear I do not cry. Brigitta is long gone, but I still hear the wailing of the poor men who are starving in the other cells. All they ever did was steal a crumb of bread they could not afford because of Andrei's father's laissez-faire politics. I hate it. I hate it all.

Stop. You're only making yourself angry. Stop thinking about it. Think about your sewing.

The moon climbs higher and higher into the sky, but I do not notice it until I hear a rustling of wings at the tiny cell window. I look and there is a swan. I do not know if it is Benjamin or if it is Derick, but maybe it is Rogir, or it could be Lucian. It does not matter. I get up and go to the window. The swan flutters gracefully and I put my hand out. Like a child, the swan rests his head in my hand. I will free you, I promise. I think he hears me, for the saddest noise I've ever heard comes from his throat. It is melancholy and it is gut-wrenching. I nod and move away. I have no time for this. I must sew and sew. I love my brothers. And I love Andrei. I love my parents. I love life.

I love life. And I wish to live it.

I do not look up again until the door opens. My head snaps up, much to my dismay. My body strains against the pain of sitting so long in one position. Sunlight is filtering through the window. I die today. I look at the guards. I recognize them from Andrei's hunting party. One is called Ansley. He helps me up, a courteous gesture, picks up the eleven coats of mail and hands them to me. I nod and smile. He leads me out the dungeon cell. I carry the coats of mail through the dungeon, my head held high. Outside the prison there is a cart. I step in, using Ansley's hand for assistance. Then I set back to sewing. I only have one arm left. I must continue. I have until we get to the center of town. I sew and sew and sew.

People gather in the center of town, but no one cheers the way they usually do when a witch is burned. No one cheers at my death. They all look sallow and pale. I glance up once before returning to my sewing. It is almost finished. My stomach clenches up. I look to the sky. Please come, please come, please, please, please... Nothing. The fire is closer, I can feel its heat against me. I look up and see Queen Brigitta, her grinning face haunting me. The King stands there too, looking uninterested. And then there is Andrei. He is being held back by Vindar and two other guards. We meet gazes. His eyes are red from tears and lack of sleep. I am sure mine are as well. I keep sewing. I can feel the end drawing near. The end of my task and the end of my life.

Suddenly, from above, there is a great rush of beating wings. The air turns as cold as snow and all the people in the square gasp and look up. There, above us, are eleven perfect swans. I stand up with the coats of mail in my arms. The townsfolk whisper and gasp. Andrei strains against his captors, Queen Brigitta is shouting but I do not care. I throw the coats of mail over my brothers and in a moment where there were eleven swans, eleven young man now stand.

I look to the King and Queen. "I am innocent." I have not spoken in so long but the words are strong in my throat. The crowd explodes. They lift me up as my brothers rush towards me, embracing me and kissing me. The townsfolk are crying and blessing me. I see no one. No one but the one man coming towards me. Andrei. I clutch his arms, tears in my eyes. "I love you, God, I love you. Please know that. And I will always love you."

Andrei crushes me to him and kisses me harder than I can ever remember. He kisses me like I am suddenly going to disappear. But I am not. Never again. I have completed my task. I hug Andrei tightly. "I love you," he whispers, over and over again. We are lost to each other. The world beyond our embrace does not exist.

In that way, my story comes to a close. I am taken back to the palace where for seven days and seven nights, bells ring. Our wedding celebration lasts those seven days and seven nights. It is filled with music and dancing and love. Strangers come from all over the world to see the strange beautiful princess who can joust, fence, shoot, hunt and sing the songs of the forest. They come to hear my story of the wild swans. They come to see my brothers, they come to dance with us, and we dance with them. Four of the kingdom's fastest horsemen are dispatched and soon my parents are reuinted with us. They cry when they see the twelve of us together, they rejoice at my marriage, they kiss my husband, they call him son. They, too, dance with us. Even the lazy king comes to me and tells me how happy he is that I am his daughter and he, too, dances with us.

The only one, then, who does not dance with us is Brigitta. Oh no. We threw her into the fire seven days and seven nights ago.

In that way, my story ends. I am thrown into infamy because of my brothers and my perilous task and my test of courage. I become a bedtime story mothers tell their unruly children at night. I become the stuff of fairytale. But the real me, the flesh and blood me...I am not so transcendent. I am human, and I am all that entails. Still, I live my life singing, crying, laughing and dancing. I hold my brother's children and they hold mine. Andrei and I become great rulers of our land. And I live. I really and truly live. And I cannot tell you that everything after this is wonderful. No, sometimes I cry and sometimes I am angry. But I keep joy in my heart always, and I keep the courage I know I have in there too.

And in that way, I suppose I do live happily ever after.