A/N – Apologies for abandoning this story for a while – I've actually started another couple of SWATH stories that I've been working on that I actually like better. But thought I'd throw up what I have left to post on this one and see if it inspires me to finish it.

Also I can't figure out page breaks sorry…

Chapter Four

The sharp crack of wooden swords clashing filled the courtyard. Eric pinched and rubbed at his temples as the noise bounced around the inside of his skull. He had to lay off the drink. The hangovers were getting worse.

A kid, not much more than a boy, fell in tangled heap of lanky limbs in the dust at his feet. Eric stooped and grabbed the boy by his thin bicep, yanking him up to stand.

"You're dropping your guard." He pulled the lad to stand next to him and tried to make him mimic his posture. When the boy made a pathetic attempt to hold his sword as shown, Eric kicked his feet into position, widening the boy's stance.

"Wider – feet wider apart. Hold your sword strong…not like that…look, your arm's like a wet piece of rope. Strong. Now strike, strike, guard…"

The boy earnestly copied Eric's movements but he looked like he might topple over any moment just from the weight of the sword. Eric snatched it from him.

"Get out of here, lad. And come back when ye grown."

"No, please, Sir, I can't be sent home. Me Pa will have me." The boy stood staring up at Eric, dark round eyes pleading from his grimy face. Eric dragged a wrist across his own sweaty brow and looked around the courtyard at his young charges all intensely focused on the drills he had given them. Some of them were promising; there were a few decent fighters. Most of them left a lot to be desired. Eric shrugged and dropped the boy's sword on the ground.

"Pick it up then and try harder," he muttered, stalking off.

He walked through the crowd of boys trying their hardest to impress him as he passed. How he had ended up here, with young impressionable lads like these in his care he did not know. Well, that wasn't entirely true. He knew it had a lot to do with a girl – a woman, he corrected himself – with lips red as blood and hair darker than a raven's wing. Full lips; warmer and softer than he would have thought possible.

Horses rode into the training yard and Eric turned to see. The queen's guard rode in full regalia, flags and armor. For this reason, he knew it would not be Snow. She had come to visit him several times but had never once brought this kind of fanfare. He spied the Duke, dressed in regal red and swinging a leg down off his mount. William he recognized by the bow and quiver strapped to his back. Eric headed towards them, slightly worried that they might carry bad news about Snow – as he was every time they came.

But they didn't. Once he confirmed that the Duke was just here for one of his regular visits, Eric relaxed. The Duke made a number of trips out to the purpose-built training barracks just outside of the kingdom's walls – always keeping an eye on the progress of their soldiers in training. Making sure that Eric was keeping his end of the bargain. He led them inside the small stone building that served as the cookhouse – it was getting cold of late and he knew they would need warming after their ride. As the chef's boy handed them a steaming mug each, Eric waited.

It had been a month since he had been knighted in a short ceremony at the castle. A day after that he had moved out to the barracks. It had been seven days since he had last seen Snow. He knew this because he counted days now – he couldn't help it. His routine was predictable - monotonous even - particularly the regular visits from the Duke. But it all served a purpose, and he was sure of that now. He waited silently at the table and finally the Duke spoke.

"Eric, we have word of riders approaching from the East. We have no knowledge of their origin and no news on whether they are friendly or not. All we know is that they number over ten and they are all mounted."

Eric nodded; glad the subject wasn't Snow.

"I'll send out a scouting group." He still wasn't used to their formalities but he was getting accustomed to knowing what would need to be done and in what order. The Duke nodded his approval.

"Yes. And…of the other matter?"

Eric studied the Duke's weathered face. Then he glanced at William who met his gaze at first but eventually blinked and stared at the ground instead. Eric thought of pleading ignorance, as if he didn't know what the Duke was speaking of. But he knew. He nodded.

"Two weeks from today." The words tasted like sand as they left his mouth.

The Duke smiled – a genuine one. "Excellent. We will notify the castle – all arrangements will be taken care of by the kingdom of course. Your duty to the Queen is much appreciated, Eric and you and your new wife will live a comfortable life."

Eric thought of Heidi, the buxom innkeeper's daughter he had been courting for several weeks now. She was a pretty girl, with a strong, child-bearing body. He knew many a man would be happy to have such a wife.

The Duke stood and crossed the room and laid a hand on his arm in a fatherly manner.

"This is the right thing, Eric. As we discussed, the Queen has to concentrate on ruling her kingdom and her unfortunate infatuation with you could lead to nothing but pain. You will be able to serve her – as you so dearly wish – much better once she sees you properly married and releases herself from her …fascination with you."

The scrape of wood against slate cut through the silence and Eric glanced up to see William abruptly stand and leave the room. The Duke also watched him go.

"William feels we are being deceitful," he said, his face sorrowful as he watched the door close after his son. "But a queen's subjects must protect her from all known enemies – even if at times that enemy is herself." He steepled his fingers, turning to face Eric. "Snow's parents would want her to rule well. She needs to marry nobility and continue the line. It is her duty." His voice was low and his tone soft.

Eric clenched his jaw tightly but nodded in agreement. The Duke was right. Snow would never be disloyal to him but he knew he was not what was best for her. He had always known that, from the first time he had watched her by the firelight, dancing and laughing with the dwarves. Her beauty and spirit had begun to overwhelm him from that moment. But he'd come to realize he was the opposite of all that was pure within her.

He stared into the fireplace at the flames licking the wood. He should have left when he first had the chance. He should have rode out that cold morning and never looked back. That would have been best for everyone. He sure as hell shouldn't have kissed her. Shouldn't have let himself be haunted by the feel of her impossibly soft lips responding to his. He should've left the girl then and never looked back.

Instead he'd found that he couldn't stay away. It appeared he wanted to sign up for a lifetime of torture just to serve her and be around her. And that torture would be watching her marry William and live her life with him. And he would be happy about it because that's what was best. She couldn't marry a lowly Huntsman, the kingdom would never allow it. There was no other possible outcome and the Duke had helped him see that.

There was one guilty thought that he could not shake but in all honesty, some days it was the only thing that kept him going. Once he was married, it would no longer be improper for him to be alone with Snow. He hadn't been alone with her since the night in the kitchen and he missed the easy banter they had together when no one else was around. He knew it was a small and foolish thing to cling to but he held on to it all the same.

He scrubbed a hand across his face and wished for a drink – hangover momentarily forgotten. No, this was the way of it – the best he could do by her was to stay close enough so that if she ever needed him – he would be there. He would build her the best army ever seen so she had soldiers that would protect her with their very lives. And in the meantime, he would build a life that looked right from the outside so that Snow wouldn't suspect he had thought of kissing her again – as he wanted to, without restraint – every day since.

The Duke readied himself to leave.

"Oh and Eric, it is probably best not to mention your upcoming nuptials to the Queen. It will be a kinder thing to have her find out when the deed is already done."

Eric flinched then covered it by shouting instructions to the chef's boy to ready the Duke's horses. By the time he followed the Duke out to the horses he was composed again. William was already on his horse, hood raised and staring straight ahead, ready to leave.

The Duke nodded to Eric and after a sharp kick to his mount's flanks, the convoy left.

PAGE BREAK

Snow cursed softly as she pricked her finger for the fourth time that evening. Adjusting the candle to make the wick burn brighter and closer to her needlepoint she frowned, taking note that the skill Greta had encouraged her to take up for 'relaxation' was having quite the opposite effect. She bent over the cloth again, holding it close to her eyes and squinting for a while before blowing out a loud exhale and dropping the needlework and tools into her lap.

It was hopeless. She couldn't concentrate.

She hadn't been able to for days. And she wasn't sure why but she felt a restless energy which couldn't be burned off by walks in the village or outings on the horses. She had spent all of today in the stables seeing to all the horses, brushing them and even feeding them. The stable hands had been beside themselves but too fearful to stop her; they did however bring in the Duke as reinforcement when she tried to muck out the stalls. The Duke sent her to Greta who had tried again to get Snow interested in needlepoint and she'd been sitting here ever since.

She sighed and threw her clumsy work across the room.

"I see the needlepoint is going well."

Greta stood by the door, a bemused smile on her face. Snow tried to look contrite.

"I'm sorry. I don't think I have the patience for it. Nor the flair."

She pointed at her crooked handiwork now lying on the floor and both girls laughed. Greta bent to pick the stitched canvas up and walked over to the table, taking a seat opposite Snow. This sitting room was one of Greta's favorites; the fireplace kept it cozy due to its small size and plenty of light came through the tall windows during the day. Snow watched her pretty friend as she began to unpick Snow's mistakes. After a moment of silence between them, Snow realized Greta was giving her a chance to speak what was on her mind. She felt a surge of warmth towards this girl who had become like a sister to her.

"Greta, I don't know what's wrong with me. I can't seem to find any peace."

Greta nodded, face bent over the needlework. Snow continued.

"And I have no reason to feel this way; all is as it should be in the kingdom, my people are happy, my loved ones are all safe." She shook her head as if trying to rid it of the black thoughts. "I just cannot shake the feeling that…something is wrong."

After a moment's more silence Snow studied the top of Greta's fair head. "Greta?"

The girl raised her face and to Snow's horror, her beautiful wide-set eyes were overflowing with tears.

"Greta! I'm so sorry; here I am making problems where there are none and meanwhile you sit here upset – tell me, what is the matter?" Snow moved forward to crouch by her friend's side, placing her hands on the girl's knee and looking up into her tearful face.

"Oh please, my Queen, get up…"

"No – not until you tell me what's wrong…"

"It is Eric." Greta closed her eyes, squeezing Snow's hands. Snow felt her stomach turn to ice, and the cold flew through her veins. Eric!

"What of him? Please say he has not come to harm." Snow's voice came out shaky and cracked and the dread that filled her threaten to overwhelm her. She held on to her friend's hands tighter to steady herself.

Greta's eyes flew open. "Oh no, my queen, he is safe." Snow felt the breath escape her in a rush. Greta stood and moved Snow into her chair and Snow let her, momentarily light-headed from the worry Greta's words had caused her. Greta knelt on the floor, their position reversed.

"Please forgive me, Snow – I didn't mean to alarm you. He is fine, physically – though I have done you a grave disservice." Her eyes filled again with tears and Snow placed a palm on her cheek.

"Please tell me, Greta."

The young girl nodded, then placed her forehead on Snow's knee. She did not lift her head to speak.

"Eric is to be married." Snow felt the breath stolen from her again. Greta looked up, tears flowing freely now.

"I am so sorry, my queen – I would have told you sooner but…"

Snow closed her eyes. "Please, Greta. Just tell me everything now."