"rooted, not adorning" by BlackEyedGirl | Gen | Now that she is Queen, she finds it hard to put away the blade. | ~1.900 words

“Would you kneel, Huntsman, if I asked?”

She should remember; he knelt to her before, though she did not ask it. All in white with the fire burning around her, like a wild thing brought from the other side of death. He says, “The question, my Queen, is would you ask?”

I love Snow's introspection in this fic, the way she tries to reconcile her own needs with everybody else's wants.