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As the chariot came to a graceful halt, the door swung open and Queen Snow stepped out. Her raven-black hair slid down her shoulders, providing a stark contrast to her porcelain skin. Her blue eyes, reminiscent of clear winter skies, scanned the surroundings, taking in the reconstruction. Beside her, Emmett descended, his broad frame and stern expression a clear indication of his role as her protector. His armor, though dulled from travel, still gleamed in the waning sunlight, and his hand never strayed far from the hilt of his sword.
Following closely behind the chariot was a large, wooden truck, its sides decorated with carvings of mountains and forests. The truck’s heavy wheels groaned under its weight, and as it too came to a stop, the back door was flung open. A group of dwarfs jumped out with the strength and determination of an army. Their beards, ranging from fiery red to deep brown, were braided and adorned with trinkets, signifying their individual achievements. Tools of various shapes and sizes hung from their belts, clinking together and creating a melody of readiness. They looked around, their keen eyes assessing the work that hadn’t yet been done.
The arrival of such esteemed guests and helpers brought a renewed energy to the village, as the locals greeted them with cheers and gratitude.
“Snow. Emmett,” Tristan greeted them, embracing them both. “Your help is much appreciated.”
Snow smiled, her eyes twinkling. “We heard of your efforts here and wanted to lend a hand. And of course, bring some provisions.”
As Tristan helped unload the food, he entered one of the nearly reconstructed homes to store it. The room was dim, but in the corner, a familiar figure sat on one of the vegetable crates, his impish grin unmistakable.
“Rumple,” Tristan said cautiously.
Rumple held up a parchment—a contract—signed with blood. “Your Sleeping Beauty tricked me,” he said with an annoyed grunt. “She offered me a golden kingdom, yet there is nothing left but rust.”
Tristan’s lips curled in a sly smile, though he fought to suppress his amusement. “That wasn’t her doing, but it sure is fitting,” he remarked, a hint of mockery in his tone. “You, sitting on the throne of a worthless kingdom. Exactly where you belong.”
Rumple’s irritation simmered beneath the surface, but he waved off Tristan’s words with an air of superiority. “Nonetheless. Midas is trapped in the Dreamworld, and a deal is a deal.”
Tristan’s expression hardened. He had a distinct feeling that this conversation was heading in a direction he wouldn't like. “Why are you here? I have no deal with you.”
Leaning forward, Rumple’s eyes gleamed with malicious intent. “Oh, but you do, my king,” he purred, relishing the power his words held. “We are now allies, which means you will provide my kingdom with the necessary provisions to survive.”
Tristan’s chest swelled with defiance. “I will do no such thing.”
Rumple’s response was a mocking smile. He gestured to the ominous contract he held, a wicked glint in his eyes. “Now, now. Don’t be so hasty in your decision,” he cooed. “After all, our kingdoms are one. Now, to show you my appreciation, I am willing to release your beloved of her compulsion.”
Tristan’s brows furrowed in confusion. “What compulsion?”
Suddenly, the blood stain on the parchment turned inky black. “You didn’t think your princess left you of her own accord, did you?” He chuckled darkly. “Tsk tsk, Tristan. Shame on you.”
Before Tristan could respond, a knock echoed through the room. He turned toward the sound, his senses on high alert. Standing at the threshold was a tall man with dark skin, his presence casting a shadow over the room. In his arms, he cradled a box of provisions.
Once he stepped onto the light filtering through the window, his face came into clear view.Prince Hendrick.
Tristan turned back to Rumple, wondering if that was his doing, but Rumple was gone.
Hendrick cleared his throat. “I come on behalf of my father, the King of Hyla. He wishes to offer his support and extend his gratitude for your actions.”
Tristan shook his head, still processing. “My actions?”
Hendrick placed the box on the floor with a sheepish smile. “You brought me back,” he said as if it should’ve been obvious. “Going against Midas was a bold move, and you will forever be praised for your courage.”
Tristan wasn’t entirely sure how to respond. Yes, he had defeated Midas, but he didn’t do it alone. He couldn’t have done it without Aurora’s help. Had she not told him about Tristan?
His heart twisted in his chest at the thought that she might’ve moved on so quickly. And forgot him so effortlessly.
“It needed to be done,” Tristan said simply, unable to stop himself from looking past Hendrick toward the door. Had Aurora come with him?
“Have you traveled alone?” Tristan asked.
Hendrick followed Tristan’s gaze toward the door, confused as to who he might’ve been looking for. “I’ve brought a few servants to help me unload the carriage with the timber my father is donating for the rebuild.”
Tristan nodded. “Right. Thank you very much for your support. I am most grateful.”
Hendrick raised a hand. “Trust me, we are the grateful ones. I know I shouldn’t speak for Aurora, but… I know she is just as grateful as I am for what you’ve done.”
At hearing her name, Tristan’s heart thudded against his ribcage. “How is she faring?” he asked.
