Chapter 13 - Snow White's Son

Translator's Note:

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"The royal families and nobility have long borne the heavy burden of collecting taxes even during famine, all to ensure the kingdom could defend itself from invasion. Now that the terror of famine has passed, we live in a better time. Yet, people are greedy creatures… Even when wealth abounds, they seek more, often at the expense of others."

 

"Does that mean war will still come?" Crow asked, his voice filled with concern.

 

"It is always a possibility. It is why royalty must forge ties with allied nations through marriage, preserving peace in a way that does not rely solely on force. The King seeks to wed Crown Prince Kyle to a princess from the neighboring kingdom of Frostens. Until now, he was against the prince marrying, but it seems he had softened with age."

 

Crow, who had been quietly listening, blinked in surprise. Though he knew it was improper to gaze upon the Beast's face, curiosity overwhelmed him. Leaning forward, he peered into the hood, his eyes searching for the Beast's features hidden beneath the wild beard.

 

"My brother... is going to be married?" he asked, astonished, though curiously, not saddened. There had been a time when the mere mention of a royal ball to select a bride for his brother had pierced Crow's heart with jealousy, yet now he felt calm. He realized, too, that his old habit of kissing Kyle's portrait before falling asleep had vanished without him even noticing.

 

"No, I doubt it," the Beast replied gravely. "There is a reason why he cannot marry."

 

"A reason? But wouldn't it be a blessing for our kingdom if my brother wed and had many children? It would bring peace to the realm, and both he and our father would be overjoyed."

 

Crow's mind wandered to the mystery surrounding Kyle that he had once overheard from the elves. Ernst had said that while Kyle might desire the throne and consider marriage for the sake of securing it, such a union would be impossible. At the time, Crow hadn't understood whether it was the kingship or the marriage itself that was out of reach, but now, from the Beast's words, it seemed to be the latter.

 

"I always thought my brother was perfect," Crow whispered.

 

The Beast chuckled softly. "He loves you dearly, but perfect? No. I told you before, he is powerless in many ways."

 

"Why... why can't he marry?" Crow's voice was filled with both curiosity and concern.

 

"There are rumors... that he cannot share the night with a woman," the Beast said quietly.

 

"W-what?" Crow stammered, taken aback. At once, his mind conjured images of a young man as beautiful as his brother, standing beside him. The figure was not a real person, but a blend of all the princes, noblemen, and knights Crow had read about in books throughout his life.

 

In this past year, Crow had spent every night with the Beast, learning from him about the world beyond his tower. His once innocent heart had begun to fill with knowledge—of life, of men, of the ways of the world.

 

It was not only the Beast's teachings that had opened his eyes; Crow had found solace in books, reading far more than he ever had when the Elves were with him. Back then, he had spent his days in carefree play or indulging in mischievous acts, leaving little time for any serious studies. It was only recently that Crow had learned that the love between two men was considered forbidden.

 

With a nervous tremor in his voice, Crow asked, "My brother... Does he prefer the company of men, rather than women?"

 

The Beast was visibly startled by the question. He hurriedly denied it, his head shaking so vigorously that his hood slipped, revealing his face for but a moment before he scrambled to hide it again.

 

"Crown Prince Kyle has no interest in men. Absolutely not. He may be powerless in some ways, but he is a rational man. He has no interest in men. Such a thing is beyond him!"

 

"And you?" Crow pressed, his gaze unwavering. "Are you the same? Do you not care for men?"

 

The Beast's sudden anger did not deter Crow. His heart was set on knowing the truth. He did not care whether his brother loved men or women—so long as he was happy. But now, standing before the Beast, Crow yearned to know the truth of the man who had been by his side all this time.

 

He understood now that to love another man was seen as a taboo. But surely, somewhere in the world, there were those who defied such conventions, whose love transcended society's cruel dictates. Love, as the books often spoke of, was a beautiful thing, and not something that could be easily repressed.

 

The love between two men was no more ugly or sinful than the love between a man and a woman.

 

Surely, it was only those who had never known love between men who had declared it forbidden. Could it be that someone had truly heard a divine voice pronounce such love as unholy?

 

Crow doubted it. There was no such person, not anywhere in the world.

 

"Please, answer me. Can you truly never love a man?"

 

"Why do you ask me this?" Beast's voice was low and guarded.

 

"I want to know you," Crow replied earnestly. "I want to know everything about you."

 

His brother was, of course, dear to him, but it was the Beast who had spent every night by his side this past year. Crow longed to know the man's true name, where he had come from, why he appeared in the form of a beast, and most of all—who he could love. Crow wanted to know it all. Yet, part of him trembled at the thought of uncovering too much.

 

What if he has a wife? What if he has children? Crow's heart clenched painfully at the very notion. It would be unbearable, too painful to bear. How could that be, when the time I spend with you is my greatest joy? he thought.

 

Crow had harbored a fear ever since just before his seventeenth birthday. The wolves had begun to dwindle in number, and soon his brother might send for him. But leaving the tower would mean saying farewell to the Beast. Once, Crow had accepted that as an inevitable part of life, but now, the thought filled him with dread.

 

He almost wished that his brother's summons would never come.

 

"I love neither man nor woman," the Beast said, his voice somber. "How could a lowly, wretched creature such as I, furred and beastly, ever dream of loving anyone?"

 

"Beast..." Crow's heart ached at his words.

 

Does that mean you have never thought of me? Never once longed to see me? Crow wanted to ask. You have come to me every night for a year, without fail. You have taught me, shared the world with me. Why, if not for love?

 

The words Crow longed to say lodged in his throat, difficult to voice. Instead, he reached into the pocket of his cloak, determined to follow through with his plan for the night. Though expressing his feelings felt daunting, the gift he had prepared for the Beast was easier to offer.

 

"Please, don't look so troubled," Crow said softly. "I'm sorry if my words upset you. If you would, in honor of the year we've spent together… please accept this."

 

Crow extended his hand, revealing a pair of finely crafted gloves, made from the softest lambskin.

 

The gloves the Beast currently wore were ones Crow had long outgrown, their fingers cut off to accommodate the Beast's large hands. But over time, they had frayed, and the holes had grown wide enough to reveal the coarse fur on the Beast's fingers, something he clearly wished to hide. Often, during their conversations, the Beast would notice the exposed fur and withdraw, embarrassed by his appearance.

 

The Beast's eyes widened. "Snow White... what is this?"

 

Crow smiled. "I had kept a lambskin tablecloth, a gift from my brother. I never had use for it, so I cut it to fit your hands. This time, the gloves will cover your fingers completely, and the soft leather will make it easier for you to write."

 

"Did you... sew these yourself?"

 

"I did. I'm quite skilled with needlework. The Elves were so nimble with their hands. When I was younger, they sewed and mended my clothes as I grew. They taught me, too."

 

The Beast took the gloves from Crow, admiration clear in his eyes. "They are... marvelous."

 

Removing his old, worn left glove, the Beast slid on the new one, carefully crafted by Crow's hands. Though Crow hadn't taken exact measurements, the fit was perfect.

 

"I'm relieved," Crow said, "I was worried. Your fingers are so long."

 

The Beast was silent for a moment, looking down at his newly gloved hand. "Snow White... I don't know what to say. 'Thank you' doesn't seem enough. I'm overwhelmed... truly. This gift... it means the world to me."

 

The Beast's hood had slipped slightly, revealing a part of his face. His usual downcast gaze was nowhere to be seen, and his bright, sapphire eyes gleamed with emotion, glistening like jewels.

 

Seeing him so happy gave Crow the courage to speak from his heart. "Beast… I'm glad you like them. But please, listen to me. I made these gloves because you needed them… but they're not something I need at all."

 

"Snow White?"

 

"I would be happier if you touched me directly… without gloves."

 

Crow's courage swelled as he said these words, his hand reaching out to gently touch the Beast's gloved right hand. He slowly slipped off the old, frayed glove, revealing the fur-covered hand beneath.

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