brodinsons:

_{(it’s okay, huntsman, he means that in a romantic way)}

“So you expect me to roll over like a dog and let you slaughter me?” he growls threateningly, blue eyes snapping from the stranger’s face to their surroundings, attempting to see if there might be any way out of this.

The stranger laughs, though the sound is far from amused. Those frighteningly intense grey eyes flash, and the huntsman wonders if there is more at stake here than he first imagined.

The white horse moves closer, its rider still watching him with an unflinchingly severe expression. He glowers, trying his damnedest not to act like the cornered animal he’s beginning to feel like.

“My dear huntsman,” the man’s voice is gentler this time, almost calming. He doesn’t trust it. “I have no intention of killing you.”

“Oh? Then how exactly d’you propose to carve my heart out of my chest, then?” he snaps back, rising to his full height in order to keep as much distance between them as possible.

“I want your heart, huntsman,” the stranger repeats, leaning slightly over his horse’s neck. “I want it wholly and completely.”

He bares his teeth, confused and conflicted. “You think you can just toy with me like this? I’ve been given a mission and threatened with death if I don’t complete it. You think you can meddle in the Queen’s affairs with no worry of retribution or punishment?”

The stranger’s lips part, revealing impossibly straight white teeth bared in a hungry smirk. “Oh yes,” he replies. “I am quite beyond her jurisdiction.”

“Who are you?!” he shouts, nearing the end of his already frayed patience.

“You know who I am,” the stranger says, and for the briefest instant, the huntsman could swear that he saw a flash of green in the complicated depths of those eyes. “Brother.”