Please, please, you guys, I’m begging you to actually WATCH the original Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.
WATCH.
THE.
MOVIE.
Because the Prince kissing Snow White is, to me, one of the most heartbreaking scenes in Disney history.
And here’s why.
First of all, the Prince is clearly close to Snow White’s age. He is both drawn and voiced as very youthful. He looks and sounds about 16 or 17, at the oldest. He is NOT a “predator”. He’s a boy who loves a girl, like in any good fairy tale.
Secondly, the Prince meets Snow White early in the movie. She’s NOT a complete stranger to him at the end. And their first meeting is significant. The Evil Queen makes a big deal out of Snow White’s looks, being “the fairest of all”, etc. But the Prince is first drawn to Snow White’s VOICE. He’s captivated by her singing and her kindness to the birds. He sees beyond her looks. He sees past the rags she wears and recognizes that this is a good person, a beautiful person on the inside. Then when she’s startled by him, he’s very polite and soft-spoken, apologizing for frightening her. He’s a total gentleman. Then he serenades her, letting her know how much he admires her. (Words that she has NEVER heard from ANYONE else in her life, by the way.) Then he even smiles at and is kissed by a dove that lands on his finger, hinting he has a connection with animals somewhat like hers.
And then there’s a fade to black. So we actually don’t know if she came out again, if they talked for a while. Maybe they didn’t, but maybe they did. The film doesn’t clearly tell us one way or another. But there is a possibility that they did get to know each other a little there. And if they didn’t, something is still beginning between them. They share warm smiles and affectionate looks. They both feel it, and they both hope to pursue it.
Then Snow White finds out her stepmom wants her dead and has to run away. Which means the Prince noticed her absence.
And the narrative text later tells us that he “searched far and wide” for her after she disappeared. (This guy walked so Fiyero could run, let’s be real.) Imagine the person you’ve been thinking about, hoping to get to know, wondering if they may be the one, suddenly vanished without a trace. And she’s the Princess of your neighboring kingdom. And then the Queen of the same kingdom also suddenly disappears. Wouldn’t you be alarmed? There’s a chance the huntsman may have gone to the Prince’s kingdom for help, and warned him of the Queen’s horrible actions. There’s also a chance that the Queen already had a bad reputation in the area, and the disappearances were a confirmation of what was already suspected. So the Prince nobly tries to find out what happened to his newfound love, worried about her safety. Snow White sings about her hope that she will see him again and tells the dwarfs about him … but the full truth of the situation is that he’s been thinking about her too. It’s a mutual young first love, pure and innocent.
Then the Prince FINALLY finds his beloved… in a coffin. After a “far and wide” search, there she is, apparently DEAD! All his hopes and wishes for a possible relationship with her are dashed. A 17-year-old who once dreamed of reuniting with his first love has just found her dead. He knows absolutely nothing about the poisoned apple’s spell or its cure. He doesn’t know a kiss will save her. He thinks she’s gone. Forever. All he knows is that he has found the girl he loves too late, and he couldn’t help her, despite all his searching. So, he kisses her goodbye. He kisses her as an apology, a sign of regret for lost dreams, a chance that he seems to have been denied. A 2-second touch of her lips to show his devotion. Then he bows his head and grieves.
This moment demonstrates than in him, Snow White has found the genuine love she’s been yearning for. While her stepmother tried multiple times to murder her, now she has someone who genuinely values her, so much so that he searched everywhere to find her when she went missing. Who was so heartbroken and crushed at the notion that she was gone forever that he gave her what he thought was a goodbye kiss, his one and only way of showing what she meant to him before he became haunted by the ghost of her memory, of his failure, of his lost chance at love.
This is a deeply and tragically romantic moment that has sadly been widely misunderstood. Do not slander Prince Florian! He doesn’t deserve it!
Plis plis plissss do a yandere shan yu x hun!reader plis plis plis plissss!
I love this man 😔 (I have several photos of him if you want-)
Of course!! I love me some Shan Yu 🥰
I’m gonna be so honest… I didn’t notice the “HUN!” part of your request until halfway through editing the story… IM SO SORRY!!! I’ll still post the story as is, but I’ll have to make a new one and tag you in it!
Shan Yu X Reader - “Victory”
Summary: The cities was conquered in no time. Everything was burnt to the ground... aside from a simple, poor village woman.
Part two - "Between Then and Now"
Art by Joudoodles on Tumblr!! Very talented! (Account is deactivated, but they post on Instagram)
The afternoon sun hung lower with every passing hour over the high walls of the great city. Nanjing was not shy of people, riches, work or entertainment; some may even silently prefer it over the Imperial Court. The sun’s golden rays casted a warm glow onto the red-tiled rooftops and paper lanterns that drifted with the soft breeze. A pleasant aroma filled the streets as the bakers baked, and children laughed and ran as they stole a piece of bread or two. Merchants shouted over one another to get the attention of potential buyers, bartering silk, jewelry, teas, charms and more. Sweet buns and sesame oil lingered in the air, as well as the pleasant sounds of flutes, pipas, erhus and more. Then, there was the dancer near the temple of Changlu.
Her movements were just heavenly. Her sun kissed skin radiated as she moved across the court, and her angelic face stopping the hearts of those who saw it. Her sleeves swung like a koi in a stream, her movements telling stories as old as time; tales of rain spirits, warriors, and star-crossed lovers. Her heal clicked onto the pavement as she danced with perfect rhythm, and the bells she wore on her waist jingled softly. Her clothing looked to be made by Yang Ash– the very Goddess of Beauty herself. Little did the people know that every cent an onlooker gave her went to these clothes, and they were easily the most valuable thing she had ever had. Hand made, each intricate detail and little gem had been selected carefully to create her vision of the perfect attire.
However, her body had grown tired over the hours. Although she loved the faces of the people-- the generous old ladies reminiscing their past youthful beauty, the farmers and soldiers in awe by such a woman, and the begger children aspiring to be talented-- she was ready to leave. The sun would be setting soon, and the decorated clay bowl besides her had been filled to the brim with tossed coins. With a final sway of her body, she reached her finale; her limbs were shaky as she took her bow and collected her things.
“Y/N,” the people murmured. “Mei ren-- a beautiful one.” It made Y/N smile softly to hear the last praises of the day.
She departed. Through the back allies and towards the mostly invisible slums of the city was the place her and her older brother called home. The laughter, music and sweet smells had long since faded away, and the reality of her position in life had came back. The dances she loved was her escape from this reality- and the bells of the city clanging to mark the hour had reminded her of her poverty. The bell that rang the end of break time for the poor workers and jianmin, the lowest ranks of society.
A single, nearly collapsed room held as firm as possible under the weight of its own roof, wedged between the little homes of other impoverished citizens. This was what she and their neighbors called home, a thin walled, long stretch of broken homes. Her beautiful attire and porcelain bowl of coins clashed heavily with the aesthetic; her tired face was in a pout as her heel clicked onto the floor. As quietly as possible, she removed her shoes by the front door- wincing at the pain of her heel.
“You are late,” the familiar, degrading voice called. Her older brother sat on the floor, legs crossed, sipping cheap wine like he was the emperor. It almost made her laugh at the irony.
“Like a beautiful fox, you dance so well; yet, you are unable to use said beauty for honor or livelihood. All these men gaze upon you for hours, yet you still have no husband to bring honor to the family.”
Y/N frowned with her head hung low as she gazed up at his bitter expression. The anxiety building up in her stomach made her wanna gag, and the coins rattled in the bowl from her trembling hands. She was always so scared to see him, and her eyes casted down into the bowl as she held it out for him. “Yes, Hao,” she whispered pathetically, “but, look... We can afford to fix the roof! My dancing does... had paid off.”
Hao, her brother, scanned the bowl with slight interest, but annoyance none the less. With a sigh, he stubbled over and snatched it out of her hands. He removed half of the coins, counting them in his hands, before tsking. “This just will not do, Y/N. Clearly another week of dancing is required before the roof is fixed."
She knew he was half lying. Half, because what he says is only true when you factor in how much he spends on alcohol. Otherwise, another week is indeed in order. He continued, "now, I provided you with ingredients; make something of it.”
Y/N said nothing as she softly moved passed him, chills running down her spine. She hated being around him because, beyond his sour attitude, the tension of his anger lingered in the rooms like smoke. Something as simple as walking passed him too quickly could result in her being hit. It was sort of strange, given how much he prayed to his Confucian gods and filled the house with his religious props, he failed being the head of the household starting with his first act of abuse.
She knelt down to light the stove, her muscles sore from hours of movement. Her brother returned to the bamboo matt, lighting the bowl of ash, for they were too poor to afford a proper incense burner. He groaned as he knelt back down, seething as his hands clasped in prayer. Y/N shot him a sympathetic look.
His back was crooked from the years of intense labor in the fields. He was only a few years older than her, about 24 by now, with no wife, heir, job, or true reason to live on. It was dishonorable to be in this state at such a young age, but when his back was too injured to continue working all the extra shifts their late parents couldn't work, he gave up. They lost their farm, ancestorial relicts, animals, and whatever else gave them value a few years ago, and they haven't been in a better state ever since. The last thing he could provide was this ugly shack they called home, for which she was grateful. The loss of their parents was devastating for them both, of course, but being an orphaned, young man in this society was a pressure most couldn't handle.
That is why Y/N didn't find a husband, little did he know. Because if she did, she would no longer be able to care for her bitter brother-- and without her, he would have nothing left.
She sliced turnip and boiled millet, and her stomach beginning to growl. A sigh escaped her lips- it was just another day. Half her funds will go towards Hao’s drinking, and the other half to food. The money will never be used on other matters. And frankly, a little rain didn't hurt her movements when she danced, but a broken arm did.
Besides, Y/N was a rather delicate woman. The fight in her was equivalent to trying to light a wet match-- it takes a long time for her to get worked up. She lived life by gritting her teeth and pushing forward, hoping one day that a better one will find her. But for now, living under the threat of her brother Hao was certainly livable. Food was done now anyway, and she gently grabbed two bowls.
Then, the screaming broke the uncomfortable silence of the room.
First it was faint. Then, it grew louder. The two siblings looked around to see what direction it was coming from, then looked at each other in shock and confusion.
KRSHH-- the snapping of wood outside made Y/N drop the bowls in a gasp, and Hao struggled to raise onto his feet. She turned to him, rushing over to help him up-- his arm wrapped around her rather protectively, holding her close as they approached the door in haste.
Finally, the crackling of fire grew louder with the sounds of horses galloping. The paper door slid upon roughly, getting caught on the grooves of the floor, and revealing the scene in front of them. Crowds running for their lives as arrows flew through the air, cutting through the skin of the unfortunate people in the wrong place at the wrong time. Neighbors opened their doors to see the scene, then running for their lives as another round of fire arrows flew without missing. Just minutes ago there was nothing- and now all this, like a sudden tsunami of fire.
Smoke and ash began to filter in through the cracks, and the neighbors just across the pathway had been set ablaze. Bodies and horses littered the streets, and blood mixed with the muddy holes in the path. Y/N covered in her mouth in horror, an unexpected cry leaving her trembling lips. Tears poured from her eyes like a waterfall as she gaged her brother's reaction.
“Hao! What do we do?” Y/N cried out, nearly collapsing from the utter terror. “Hao!”
“Enough!” He screamed back, his voice full of fear. He turned his head towards her and stopped for a moment. His face was in a scowl-- but as Y/N stared back with blurry, tear filled eyes, she saw his face soften. Sympathy or regret leaked through his hardened facade.
Then… Then he ran.
“What— Hao! Hao, no, don’t leave me!” Y/N screamed out loud, sucking in smoke as she did so, causing her to cough and lean on the doorway. She stuck her head out, but he was nowhere to be seen beyond the chaos. The smoke was pouring into the streets, blinding crowds of people and soldiers on horse back. The tensity in her leg muscles meant her mind was screaming at her to run, her heart pumping with adrenaline, but her legs just wouldn't move.
Her brother loved her enough to give her a home. Surely he wouldn’t leave her- maybe he was just trying to get help from within the city walls. Surely, right?
And suddenly, an arrow came in through the doorway and stuck into the unfinished floor board. Her head slowly turned to face it. It wasn't on fire, but the potential of death lingered from it. “Oh my gods,” she prayed, looking up as she closed her eyes and clasped her hands, tears slipping past her chin. “Oh my gods! Gods, please, save me! Ancestors, guide me! Please!” Y/N screamed loudly as her legs gave out, her pretty outfit hitting the mud as she ignored the burning sensation in her throat.
Although the sound of invading soldiers and screams were drowning out, as perhaps enough people were dead or swarming into the city, she heard the quiet grunt that followed the scream of a horse. Her breathing suddenly halted as she slowly looked up, leaning forward with one hand on her knee and the other wiping tears out of her eyes.
A bulky man fell from his horse, his sword clinking onto the ground as his body collapsed, making dust jump into the air around him. However, he didn't look right among the bodies of her dead neighbors. His fur coat was not of Chinese origin for sure, and neither was his horse's armor. The horse ran off before she could get too good of a look, following the last remaining crowds to wherever they were going.
But her eyes never left his unmoving form, aside from his chest subtly heaving. He was clearly alive and injured. Sympathy ran through her body as the idea hit that, perhaps, she could heal him.
"He's... an invader," she reasoned with herself in a soft whisper. Help him, a voice called back from deep within. Help him.
Y/N furrowed her eyebrows as she quietly groaned, wishing this invader could just stand up and help himself. He's clearly a big enough man to withstand whatever injured him for now. He's clearly a bad man for causing harm to her neighbors, and probably more.
“Gods, protect me...”
Within seconds, she reached the man- stumbling over a rock as she did her best to avoid blood and dead bodies. He looked so much bigger up close-- like, freakishly large in comparison.
His skin as pale as snow in contrast to the specs of blood on his face, where a scar ran down his left eye. Beyond that was the thick wound bleeding heavily on his forehead. His breathing was light- reinforcing the goal of why she even ran over here into her head. “Ancestors, give me strength,” she prayed under her breath as she gripped the man’s fur lined clothing.
An invader, or a foreigner sent to fight the invaders? She silently hoped he was the latter as she summoned every ounce of strength within her much smaller body to move the man across the gravel and into her home- inch by inch. The rational choice was the abandon all and run, and she knew that. But something about dragging this man into her home felt natural; something in her blood told her to make this choice. Even as her knees buckled when lifting even half his weight and she’d cry from the arm strain, she was determined. And when she finally shut the paper door after getting him into the home, she let out a painful cry. That cry wasn’t just out of desperation; but out of thanks. “Thank you ancestors! Thank you gods! Thank you!” she cried out.
She moved quickly to get this injured man what he needed: a hot bowl of water, a clean cloth, and warm soup. She set the bowl besides the foreign man and grabbed a rag, dipping it into the water and proceeding to wipe down the man’s face and wounds, washing away the caked up blood over his injury. Blood soaked the rag as she delicately cleaned him- making her stomach churn at the sight of the water turning red.
Blood; the sign of a fighter. And it suited him.
“Mmm… definitely an invader,” she whispered in reply to her unspoken question from earlier. His face was fierce- sharp angles, paled, and marked with past battles. He looked like a warrior inside and out, yet prestigious in his barbaric appearance. She just wanted to analyze his face, placing the rag into the water bowl-- his features that all fell together so naturally. His strong chest rose steadily, making her wonder how he wasn’t burning up under the clothing. Perhaps he was.
Her eyes lowered to his exposed neck, slightly wet due to the rag, and her stomach felt like it had butterflies. His adams apple was visible, as well as the deep lines of his check that trailed down into his strong sternum, or what was exposed of it. It was a stupid idea, but she rationalized that it was better he didn't overheat. Her delicate fingers slowly pressed against his strong chest, his rough skin burning to the touch. Y/N bit her lip as she slowly pressed harder, an unmistakable blush filling her face as her fingers wanted nothing more but to explore.
Suddenly- he stirred.
His eyes open like a bolt of lightning- piercing yellow and wide as he sat up in a hurry. Y/N jumped back with a loud gasp, covering her face with her hands. The man looked around frantically, then at her, then where his sword was supposed to be in on his side. He glanced at her robes made for only the finest of society, then at the wreck of a home they resided in.
“Y-You are safe!” She blurted out frantically, placing her hands in front of her to show she was no threat. “You,” she stuttered, unsure if he even understood her language, “you fell off your horse and- and there was chaos outside. I-I…”
He stared at her silently, his expression unreadable. Her lips quivered as she paused, then slowly getting into an upright position. “I… thought you would die,” she added, her voice softening, “I could not leave a warrior to die.”
He turned his head, glancing across the room once more, calmly. No tricks were being played- he was certain of it. He stood up as if nothing ever happened. Y/N bit her lip, quickly grabbing the bowl of soup beside she and rising. “I know it is not much… but I thought you might need the energy if… once you awoke,” she explained shamefully as she held out the bowl of soup meant for only the lowest of the poor. I’d be more honorable to give him dirt, she thought. The man looked down at her- his staggering height nearly touching the roof. Yet, humbly, he took the bowl into his much larger hands and drank from it like it was the only food he’s had in days.
Y/N trembled as she watched for his reaction to the dinner, neatly folding her hands behind her and hanging her head low. Within moments, he had finished eating and placed the bowl on the ancestorial shrine. The act was a disrespectful, but it confirmed again in her mind that he was not a friend, but a foe. The staggering silence was almost unbearable- but he hardly seemed to notice as he wasted no time heading towards the door.
"You... are one of the invaders, aren't you?"
He stopped in his tracks, turning his head towards her slowly. Her voice came out weakly as tears trinkled down her cheeks. His voice was low and gravelly as he replied.
“Yes.”
A pause came as her throat dried up, before her thoughts came out rapidly. “P…Please, take what you’d like- anything! I will tell no one. But… p—“
“Collect what you need,” the man cut her off with a flat but demanding voice. Her heart stopped as she repeated his demand in her head. The invader's expression darkened when he smiled- solidifying the indirect threat in his demand. His towering figure loomed over her, the weak candlelight giving him an ominous look. With a quick nod, she scurried to grab a little bag and collect all the coins she had earned earlier that day. She quickly reached under her bed to pull out a small necklace- then as she spun around in haste, she impacted with a solid force that made her stumble backwards.
Strong arms grabbed her before she fell, making her gasp at his harshness. "Wha- Hey!—"
She yelped as she was suddenly slung over his shoulder, swinging her weak arms against his back in protest. With his other hand, he stuffed her bag of gold and necklace into his satchel.
“No!” she cried heavily, pushing hard against him. “Please— please— Ancestors, please! I am not married— I am a no one, a husbandless woman! I am only a dancer!” She talked down to herself, hoping to make this man grow uninterested as he stepped outside the home. She cried as she struggled against him, turning her head to the street and gasping.
Bodies were being looted by men who looked just like this warrior, some cloaked in blood and others appearing as if nothing ever happened. Flames raged on the destroyed city beyond the walls, and some of the neighboring homes were slowly burning away. The message was clear to the emperor: the Huns can and will destroy whatever they must if the emperor does not accept defeat.
“You saved my life, thus harboring a fugitive and betraying China,” he replied coldly, a sly smirk growing onto his face. As if her actions were like signing a contract. “Now you belong to me. I shall repay you in many ways.”
Y/N's eyes widened at the realization. She was too busy playing savior to think of the consequences of it.
As the Great City of Yansheng burned to the ground, the invading men laughed and celebrated their victory. Water and food to last weeks were now in their possession. The Chinese Army had yet to even come close according to the scouts, giving plenty of time to escape the city. Or, what was a city- now all that remained by piling ash with buildings claimed by flames.
She stood by his side the whole time, ropes typing her wrists to the horse's harness. It was humiliating, but it was clear the man she saved was more than a warrior. He was Shan Yu. The notorious leader of the Huns, and worst enemy of her homeland. And she would be his.
She thought of her brother. The begger children. The elderly ladies and soldier men at the temple of Changlu.
The dancer no longer had the temple in the center of the city to dance by. No music played- just roars of fire. No sweet bread smells- only smoke and cremation. And soon, only the peaceful silence of death will remain of it.
…
…
…
Guilt really is a weak word. It means nothing in cases like this.
The entire country— Family, friends. Culture and language. Communities, farmers and workers. All of it either changed or died.
Shan Yu would have been dead if she hadn’t taken him. After all, Huns did suffer losses in the attack against Yansheng, though it wasn't enough. All it took was one citizen to kill the injured Hun before Y/N could save him. And really, she didn't know why she did it. She wondered every night as she laid alone in bed- “what would have been if I ran away? Would pitiful death be better than living a life of guilt?”
A sudden crack in the bedroom door made light pour in, landing directly onto her sleepless eyes. Though she was more than familiar with polygamy, sadly, she couldn't help but feel betrayed when her husband spent time with his other wives and concubines. She had a twinge of love for him, as he did repay her in many ways since the day they met. But she did not love, or like, his other women.
The bed dipped to her side as her husband got under the covers, his strong arm engulfing her as he pulled her close so that he was spooning her. Her back made contact with his strong chest, making goosebumps appear on her flesh. The proximity to danger had as much as a thrill as it did danger, and nowadays, she no longer had fear. By now, she knew not to bring up her brother and past village.
“You chose this life!” he would yell at her, threatening her until she cried and apologized. She was only truly fearful of death, but he loved her too much to follow through on his threats.
A sudden kiss planted onto her cheek made her shiver, his hand gently planting on her hips and trailing up to her side. But still, she said nothing as her little hands reached up to grab his strong bicep that wrapped around her like a cage. He was so warm against her, she didn't realize she was cold until now.
"I love you," he said, more like a general statement than affirmation.
And he did. He did love her. She was his main wife, after all, and the others were secondary and political. Only she had political power, she told herself, unlike any other woman in Hun-occupied China.
She pressed against him softly, purring lowly as she repeated the same sentiment.
