"What happened here?" Ruby's voice misted in the morning chill before her face as she followed Millie through the Red Forest. "Everything's—"

"Dead." Sir Bashful's hushed whisper nearly made her jump out of her skin. That and the fact that a dried branch had snapped beneath Millie's feet at exactly the same moment. Startling the poor thing.

Yeah. Ruby could hardly believe what they were seeing. The forest lay dry and red. Not a single green leaf, nor a blade of grass to be seen. Not even moss or lichen on trees. They passed several cottages and huts of varying sizes. All in disarray, on what might have been an old trade road to a village. The once well-trodden path beneath their feet lay scarcely visible amongst the growth.

Ruby couldn't help but watch the cottages and huts with fascination. Some of them were so small and quaint she didn't think a child would fit through its doors. Let alone an adult. But then again, something told her they weren't for humans at all.

As they trudged forth, she swore she even spied small doors at the foot of enormous tree trunks; windows on top branches; little twigs lined up for fences. She swore she saw rudimentary gardens—what would have been stone paths back home—made of pebbles instead. Garden beds that were far too organized to be wild—sectioned, irrigated.

"Who lived here?" she asked, pulling her dark forest green robe about her body tighter. The sun played peekaboo from the clouds and the day was not getting any warmer.

"My grandmother was fond of saying to my brothers and me, that once upon a time, this forest went by the name, Fairy Forest. That it was a privilege for us to visit it once every year. A pilgrimage." Sir Bashful slashed at some branches, tugging at his chain mail. "A long time ago, the Red Forest was the centre for all magic wielders. Legends say this is where they first came to be. Born from these blood-red soils. Wielders. The blue-blooded."

"The Queen was the last known fairy to be born here," Millie, who had kept to herself all this time, finally chimed in. A spritely fresh spring in her steps. Steps she quickened evermore for she could see a familiar pathway ahead. Past the growth and death, she would recognise the small carving of a sparrow her father had once etched on a big old apple tree that sat in the centre of a forked road. He had carved it—her favourite bird as a child—so she knew which way was home, to Granny's, should she ever walk there alone. It was back when her father had cared, had loved them more than he feared his new wife; or of losing her.

Millie spared a thought for him. She hadn't seen the man since he left her at granny's one stormy evening, eight years ago. As the rain had bucketed down about granny's humble home, he had left without a goodbye, just a dry, "This is your home now, Millie bear. You will stay here."

"The Queen was born here?" Ruby was asking, turning from Bashful to her maid, astonished. "As in—"

"Snow White. Yes."

"Here?"

Millie stopped ahead, stooped to the ground and grabbed a fistful of dirt, dirt she passed onto Ruby's hand as the Princess looked on, dazed. Another zap ignited between their flesh as their skin accidentally grazed against each other a second time. She winced, pulling her hand back in a rush, having forgotten her own demand for them not to touch.

"Once upon a time, this was where our world began, Ruby-Rose. This is the heartland. This is the blood land." She watched the crimson dust fall through the Princess' fingers, fingers that looked like they had never seen a hard day's work. She hid her own calloused, rough ones beneath the red hood.

"We were all born here. Every being that can wield," the knight said gruffly. This was his birthplace, one he hadn't visited often enough in the old days.

"When you say wield, Bash, you mean someone who can do magic," Ruby mused in a hush, watching the last of the dirt fall from her hand, colouring it red. She'd been dying to ask that question since they uttered the m-word. Or in this case, the w-word.

Sir Bashful nodded.

"I wasn't born here, though," Millie added.

"You're not a wielder, not yet." The knight shifted his weight uncomfortably, casting a quick glance in Ruby's direction before eyeing the ancient apple tree. "Guardians cannot wield magic until they learn of both life and death."

"Guardian?" His oddly cryptic talk made the girls eye him suspiciously.

"Wait, a minute!" Ruby's mouth fell open. "You said the last known fa—" fairy?—she couldn't quite get that word out of her mouth. It sounded utterly ridiculous. It was utterly ridiculous. Two days ago, she was a normal teen; a day ago, she somehow became a Princess—still wrapping her head around that one—and today?

"No way, I'm a fa—" again, that word stuck in Ruby-Rose's throat. How was she to ask? 'You said the last known fairy to be born here was Snow?'

"You're a blue-blooded fairy?" Sir Bashful came to her aid, a sly smile lifting the corners of his dried, frost-bitten lips.

See, even when he says it, it sounds ridiculous! Ruby glared at the knight, lost for words. Ridiculous! This never-ending dream of a fairytale was turning more and more ridiculous, she suddenly decided. What else could explain the far-fetched notion she was in Snow White's world, somehow, and talking about fairies and magic? There was only one way out of this. Only one way to make sure she woke up now.

Yes, part of her still clung to that faint idea that perhaps all of this was still just a dream. That this wondrous new world was just a figment of her over-tired, highly imaginative mind. So she did the only thing left to her. She did the one thing she thought would wake her up—in her own bed, or perhaps the chair she supposed she had passed out on. Yeah, that had to be it. She was asleep on her chair, and greatly uncomfortable. Uncomfortable enough to dream up such nonsense.

"I'm not a frigging fairy or a princess or whatever else." Ruby grabbed the scabbard that now hung about her hip and pulled out the short sword, and within seconds, she ran the blade's sharp edge across her palm to prove that she was as red-blooded as the rest of them.

"Princess, what are you doing?"

"Ruby-Rose, no!"

It was Millie who had lunged at Ruby, in alarm, "Princess, what are you doing?". And it was Bash who had yelled, "Ruby-Rose, no!" as he had attempted to grab her hand and pull back the sword.

But too late. Ruby had sliced open her skin, and from it, blood pooled out in earnest. For someone who had never wielded a sword, perhaps she didn't know her own strength. The cut was deep, really deep, and blood, as blue as the look of veins, poured out from it.

Ruby-Rose's blood was indeed blue like the knight had claimed for wielders of magic, not what she had claimed—red.

"I don't understand," Ruby muttered as her companions scrambled to get the bleeding under control, and for one touch-averse companion, there was no more being cautious. "My blood's supposed to be red..."

However much Ruby tried then, she couldn't remember if she had ever bled in the human world. How strange was that?

My blood is blue? My blood is blue! Why is my blood blue?

"I can't stop the bleed, dear knight. I can't stop the bleed!" Millie was yelling above her, her frightened face looming over Ruby as she tore a piece of her red hood desperately and wrapped it about Ruby's blood-soaked hand.

Millie looked to be in pain. Her face grimaced and braced every time her skin grazed Ruby's—whose skin was burning hot.

Why won't the bleeding stop? Panic welled up to clamp Ruby's throat, making her voice croak out. "Why won't the bleeding stop?"

Sir Bashful, whose usually stoic face, now bore some signs of concern. "Because, milady, you nicked an artery. You're no human, and that is no ordinary blade. Worse yet, I am not a wielder that can heal," he said regrettably pointing at his lost eye. He crouched down to Ruby as she slipped and fell to her bottom. Dizziness was setting in for her. Fast.

"She needs her magic, Lady Hood." The kindly knight placed a gentle hand on Millie's trembling one as she pressed the red cloth wrapped around Ruby's. "It is time."

Ruby glanced from one friend to another, through bleary eyes. "Time for what?" Though she wasn't aware of what the merge involved, the knight and the maid were.

Millie ignored the Princess for a moment. Her tearful gaze stayed on Bashful in silent acquiescence. "Will I be—?"

"Fairies as powerful as she can heal themselves, Millie Hood, but only if they have their magic." Sir Bashful looked at Millie with a faint smile. A smile of someone putting up a brave face. "I know you wanted to wait until you looked upon your Granny, but the fate of this world rests within you—magic—you cannot wield. Remember, guardians cannot wield magic until they learn of both life and death."

He patted Millie's hand gently. "Fear not, milady, I shall reunite you with your loved one. I give you my word."

"What is going on?" Ruby slurred her words, unable to keep her eyes from closing any longer.

How big a gash did I make?

"I may be the knight, dear lady, but you're the one who can save her." Sir Bashful's voice was faint—far away.

Just before Ruby's eyes closed one last time, she glimpsed Millie, peering down upon her; dilemma written all over her face.

Millie?

Then darkness.

Maybe I'll finally wake... was the last thought to cross Ruby-Rose's mind as she lay there, dying. Her life resting in the hands of one torn Millie Hood.

WC: 1695                TWC: 22, 929

[A/N: Millie is torn. Ruby is dying. Sir Bashful is helpless. Not exactly what you and they had in mind I'm sure. What do you think of Millie so far? Is she a friend, is she foe? Will she save Ruby?

I hope you are full of questions and keen to read on! I'm totally keen to discover this story with you.❤

Because I need to smash this story out and Love Bound by 2nd May (hopefully I can finish both), please don't mind that I will be trying to rush out as many chapters as I can. If you do see problems in them, I'd really appreciate a point-out so I can fix it before I submit. Thanks for your help and support. Love you all. I hope I can write well... ]