Snow

He looked at the pale man beside him. He's no one, The Prince and Princess had told him, our brother but an embarrassment, hidden from sight because he's nothing more than a simple fool, and they were right. He'd asked for a servant and then sent him back, stared at everything as if he'd never seen anything before and never asked where they were going or what they'd do when they got there. There was nothing to him. Killing him wouldn't be any different than killing a stag. All it would take was one blow to the heart and then he could go back and they'd be waiting for him, call him to them right away.

They might even be waiting for him together, both of them lying curled up and golden, arms reaching towards him. The night he promised them he'd do this one thing--a simple thing, they'd said, a nothing -- he'd had them both at the same time, the Princess writhing against him, her mouth biting his neck as he pushed inside her while behind him the Prince's teeth raked across his shoulders as he pushed inside him, both of them promising him more nights like this, promising him forever, their hands linking together and wrapping him between them.

Just thinking about it--he took a deep breath and forced himself to focus. They'd been walking for at least half a day. They'd come far enough. If he hurried, he would be home tonight. Perhaps they'd already have someone there waiting for him. Of course they would. They'd promised. Just as he'd promised them.

"Do you want to stop for a minute?" he asked.

"If you want to."

Now, Joseph told himself. Do it now. He isn't even looking at you. He's staring at the trees. He brushed snow out of his eyes and let one hand fall to the handle of the knife resting snugly in a sheath by his side.

"Thank you so much for doing this. I've never seen a forest before, you know."

"I'm sure you've seen trees before, your Highness," Joseph said, and let his fingers close around the knife. He could see the Princess's face; hear the Prince's voice. He could feel them all around him. He couldn't wait any longer. He had to do this. They wanted him to.

"David," the man said. "I told you before, remember? And I haven't. Well, in pictures. But that doesn't really count, does it? This--" he swept one arm out, "is much better." He smiled at him.

And it was nothing, Joseph told himself, just a smile and nothing more. No promises like those that lay behind the Prince and Princess's, no memories. Just a smile, but he knew he'd never seen a look of such pure happiness on anyone's face. He knew he'd never seen anyone so beautiful.

His fingers slid off the knife.

"I--" he said, and he could hear the Prince and Princess urging him on but for once their golden call wasn't warming him, wasn't drowning the world around him. He saw himself standing poised in the middle of the deepest forest ready to kill instead. He tried to picture them the way he loved them and that they said they loved to be, all of them naked and together, but instead thought of the light of their eyes the night they told him what they wanted him to do, the way their smile at each other had made his flesh crawl.

Even then he'd known what they were going to ask him was something he wouldn't be able to do.

He'd known it.

"I have to go on ahead and check the path," he said helplessly. What was he going to do? Their voices weren't as strong as they'd been, their faces not as clear, but they were still what he wanted to see. "Sometimes hunters put out traps and I don't want you to get hurt."

"Really?" David said. "You don't?"

"Of course," Joseph said automatically, mind racing through possibilities. A fall, maybe? There was a hill not too far away, one that dropped into what had once been a river but was now nothing but solid ice. No, he couldn't do that either. Maybe--

It stopped snowing. Joseph blinked and shook his head, not sure if what he was seeing was real, but it was. The snow had stopped. He looked up. Gray clouds were rolling across the sky, moving so fast it was as if they were being pushed. Behind them he thought he almost saw hints of blue. He shook his head again. He'd heard stories--he looked at David, who was still smiling and who had actually sat down in the snow, as if submerging himself in it didn't bother him. As if he didn't feel it.

But he would. No matter what the stories were, Joseph knew no one could survive a night in the forest. The cold was too bitter, too strong. And if by some chance the cold didn't kill him--well, he knew the wolves would. As soon as night fell they'd come out eager for food. Years of living in this snowy world had made them merciless, willing to strike at anyone or anything. David wouldn't live to see the morning. All he had to do was walk away.

"I'll be right back," he said. "Wait here."

"I will," David said, wrapping his arms around his knees. He waved as Joseph walked off. Joseph pretended he didn't see, and kept walking.