So, they spent the day in the garden. Snow had never tended a garden before, only received vegetables and herbs after they had been brought to the palace kitchens, and he spent several fascinated hours just looking at the different types of plants and how they grew.
“If we clear out the weeds, it should help for next year to create better soil where the good things grow,” Snow said. He wasn’t entirely sure what was weed and what was plant, but Dagobert seemed to, pointing out patches for him to pull out by hand or to dig out with a trowel. Snow wondered to himself as he dug his hands into the cool earth if he would still be here with the little men next spring when it came time for the plants to come to life once more. He had said he would only stay through the winter, but that was before he had spent time in their beds and getting to know each of them. Now the thought of leaving made his heart heavy. He thought that he might be able to be truly happy here with the seven little men that he cared about so much. Of course, it pained him that they were forced to dig in the dark mountains for gemstones that disappeared into the palace for his mother’s magic use, for he knew that mining was a dangerous job. Several of the men had mentioned that they had lost friends and family along the way from it. But the spring was also far away, with braving the incoming winter the bigger priority. He dug his hands into the dirt again to scoop out the roots of a wild weed.
Next to him, Dagobert watched in fascination as the dirt disappeared from Snow’s shirt as if it were never there. “Mymother enchanted my clothing,” Snow explained, flushing a bit. “So I would always look clean and proper, like a prince should. I embarrassed her in front of some important people, and she couldn’t have that happen again.”
Dagobert grinned and then pulled a stern, haughty look down his nose that reminded Snow so much of his mother that he burst into a fit of giggles. Dagobert joined him, the laughter overtaking them both until they were gasping for breath, and they ended up lying side by side on a bed of weeds and dirt in the garden.
“Sigurd told me you were only six years old when you were taken away from your family,” Snow said softly once their laughter had subsided and they were silently lying next to one another.
Dagobert nodded.
“Do you remember much about your family?”
Dagobert slowly shook his head. He looked at Snow and made a circle gesture to the area around them. “The others are your family now?” Snow guessed, and Dagobert nodded, smiling a little now. “I suppose the mines then are all you have ever known.”
Dagobert nodded again and gave a small shudder. Snow reached out and took the red-haired man’s hand in his own. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine what that must be like for you.”
Dagobert smiled sadly at him and squeezed his hand.
“What would you do if you could do anything?” Snow asked curiously.
Dagobert’s deep blue eyes blinked in surprise, and he looked very thoughtful. After a moment, he opened his mouth. “A writer,” he said in his soft, mellow voice.
“Oh!” Snow breathed. “Have you written anything before?”
Dagobert’s cheeks went pink, and he shook his head. “Never had time.”
“Ah,” Snow said, remembering that their life was indeed nearly entire subsistence. “Would you write something for me one day?”
Dagobert’s eyes lit up, and he smiled brightly, nodding his head. Snow beamed back. “I can’t wait.”
Dagobert wrapped his arms around Snow’s waist and tilted his head upwards hopefully. Snow held him close and leaned his own head down to press their lips together. Dagobert’s mouth was warm and soft. Around them, the earthy scent of the plants and dirt reassured Snow that he was where he was supposed to be.
They ended up falling asleep in the garden like that, side by side and hand in hand, napping for several hours. Dagobert woke first. Upon opening his eyes, he discovered that two rabbits, a chipmunk, and a bluebird had come into the garden and were also curled up sleeping against Snow’s sides and on his chest. He gazed lovingly at them, the dull sunlight shining down on the most beautiful man in the kingdom, who must have had a heart of pure gold for even the animals of the forest to love him as they did.
Snow stirred, and the animals did as well. When he opened his eyes and sat up, the animals all scattered, making Dagobert laugh out loud. Snow didn’t think he had ever heard a sound more beautiful.
That evening, the little men returned to the cottage with interesting news they had gleaned from the guards as various people from further inland came to the mines withdeliveries or to pick up the mined gemstones. It seemed that the Queen’s Shadow had set fire to the castle and then disappeared. The throne room was in shambles. No one had been killed though, which Makellos was thankful for. He wondered what had caused the terrifying specter to not only turn on his mother, but have the ability to do so in the first place. Whatever it was, he suspected that was the reason he was still alive after the vicious attack a few days ago, and he was grateful for it. A charred throne room was a small price to pay for his life.
The next day, Der showed him how he would grind herbs and plants to make various tinctures, medicines, and remedies. Snow helped him fill several boxes with jars and bottles that would be taken to the market the following day to trade for things they needed.
“May I ask about you and Hardwic?” he asked as they worked on labeling the bottles with neat handwriting.
“Yes, of course,” Der said, peering over the top of his spectacles at the bottle he held.
“How long have you two been together?”
“Well… I suppose it has been close to twelve years now,” Der said thoughtfully. “I los- oh, this is very sad, are you certain you wish to hear it?”
“Yes,” Snow said softly. “I want to know all about all of you and what happened. But only if you wish to tell it.”
“Well, when we were brought here, I met another man. Ferdinand. He and I got along well together, and, when it became obvious that we were not escaping back to our old life, he and I…” Der waved his hand.
“Became lovers?” Snow ventured.
“Yes, I suppose that is the best way to put it. But, unfortunately, a few years later, he died. A mining accident.” Der’s voice had grown soft and distant. “We lost several friends that day.”
“I’m so sorry,” Snow whispered. “And yet you have to return each day to the same mine?”
