In the dungeon, the Queen discovered a worn old trunk. She opened it and bats flew out at her, and she quickly lifted her cape to guard herself from the sickening beasts. Then she discovered the gifts: books of spells and incantations; vials of strange things—mummy dust, toad eyes, sleep crust; beakers and mortars and pestles. And a cauldron. The Queen quickly became greatly interested in the books, and soon learned how to use them in concert with the strange things the sisters had left behind.
Her first spells were clumsy and didn’t work very well, when they worked at all. Early on, she attempted a spell to make her hair—already black—darker than the raven’s feather. But instead of transforming her hair to the color of the bird’s wing, it imparted the texture, and the Queen spent days attempting to hide her feather-covered head from the court until she discovered a way to reverse the spell. Another time, she inadvertently dyed her hands green and scarred them with warts. And then she attempted a potion that would make her voice more mellifluous than anyone in the lands, which resulted in her croaking like a toad. When she tried to create an antidote, she sang like a bird and hissed like a serpent, before she at last regained her own voice.
What the citizens of the kingdom assumed to be just another of the Queen’s lapses into reclusive sorrow turned out to be week-, then month-, then yearlong retreats into her chamber, antechamber, dungeon, and the morning room to practice the mystical arts.
Apart from her chambers and the dungeon, she spent a great deal of time up in the parapets, surveying the kingdom. Perhaps searching for anyone—anything that might be a challenge to her beauty.
It should have bewildered the Queen that she had become so closed off—so cold. But she reasoned it was understandable; she never wanted to experience the pain she suffered when she lost her husband. Never again. And she wasn’t without everything. In her beauty, she had something that would make people love and admire, perhaps even fear her. And she intended to keep it by any and all means at her disposal.
She imagined her heart as a broken mirror, its pieces jingling inside her, a thought that made her feel entirely inhuman. She had become distant with those she once loved. Even her daughter, Snow White, was held at a remove, for the Queen’s fear of shattering her heart altogether should anything happen that might rip Snow from her world. She couldn’t bring herself to spend more than a few moments in the girl’s company. For with every passing year Snow’s beauty increased, and the Queen began to feel something other than love for the girl. Something terrible. But she could not think about that.
One early morning, years after the King’s death, a knock came at the Queen’s door. It was Tilley, the Queen’s lady-in-waiting since Verona had been sent away from the court so long ago now. Tilley always spoke quietly, and this—the very thing that Snow loved about the woman—was resented by the Queen, who viewed it as evidence of a weak nature.
“My Queen, where would you like to break your fast?” Tilley asked.
The Queen looked frustrated and Tilley winced in anticipation.
“In the great hall of course, stupid girl. I have been taking my meals in there since you have been here.”
Tilley looked distraught.
“What is it, Tilley? Come out with it!” the Queen barked at her.
“It’s just that Snow White mentioned wanting to have breakfast in the morning room. She thought it would be a nice change.”
The Queen smirked, and she asked the poor girl, “Is Snow White queen of these lands?”
Tilley looked nervous, “No, my Queen. You are, of course.”
The Queen went on, “Then please have my meal brought to the great hall and tell Snow White she is expected to break her fast with me.”
“Yes, my Queen. I will have one of the women bring in your bathwater now.”
“That will be all, Tilley, thank you.”
The Queen wondered how she could be surrounded by such featherheaded women. Surely she wasn’t so insolent when she was young. Breakfast in the morning room, indeed!
The Queen emerged from bed, opened her curtains, and looked out on the courtyard. Snow was sitting at the well—the Queen’s well—feeding the bluebirds. She had become a beautiful young woman. Snow didn’t seem to notice, but a handsome young man was riding by on the grounds and stopped his horse so he might look upon her. He seemed spellbound by her loveliness. Indeed, he looked as though he was falling in love right there and then. The Queen shut the curtains with a firm pull and went to her mirror.
“Magic Mirror on the wall, who is the fairest one of all?”
“You, my Queen, are fairest.”
The Queen smiled, but something within her felt cold and icy. Something disturbed her about this man approaching Snow White. Jealousy? Was that what had compelled the Queen to rush to the mirror? Was she resenting Snow for her beauty? Her youth? Or was it more benevolent? Was she protecting Snow from love? After all, look where love had left the Queen.
The Queen made her way down to the great hall. She had come to love this room for the very things that caused her discomfort about it when she had first arrived—it was cavernous and commanding. She felt like a queen here, and it pleased her to sit regally on the throne while the arched stained-glass windows cast a lovely blue light in the chamber. Snow was sitting to the right of the head of the table looking pure, innocent, and beautiful.
The Queen made her way to her seat and stood staring at Snow, who was already seated. She gave the girl a look and nodded to motion that Snow should stand to greet her mother.
Snow hesitated, and then stood, “Good morning, Mother.”
“Good morning, Snow.”
The Queen took her seat and motioned for Snow to do the same.
“So I hear you would prefer to break your fast in the morning room?” she said.
“Yes, I thought it might make for a nice change; this room is so large just for the two of us. I remember when I was a little girl we would have family meals in the smaller dining hall or in the morning r—”
“Enough!” the Queen snapped.
But inwardly, the Queen recalled how happy those days were. She couldn’t bring herself to dine in those rooms now. It hurt her too much without her husband. And Snow, all grown up—the innocent girl becoming a beautiful woman. The Queen looked up at the stone beauty above the mantel. She looked stern and disapproving, as if she were reading the Queen’s thoughts.
“I prefer this room, Snow. We have gone over this before. If you’d like to take your meals in the morning room then by all means do so; it matters not to me where you break your fast. But I will not be joining you.”
Snow looked disappointed. “I would never see you at all if we took breakfast in different rooms,” she said.
“Indeed.”
Snow just shook her head.
“I am growing weary of your attitude, Snow White. I won’t have you casting such looks at me. I said you could take your meals in any room you desire. What more do you want from me?”
Snow White looked at her mother with sad eyes.
“Nothing, Mother. Never mind.”
“Very well then, there is something I’ve wanted to mention for some while now, I think it is time you take on responsibility. You have no skills to speak of, and as you don’t seem to have any suitors we cannot assume you will be married.”
Snow looked confounded.
“I’ve told Tilley to provide you with some working clothes so you may help her with some of the chores around the castle. I think it will do you some good.”
“I don’t mind helping Tilley. I often do anyway,” Snow said.
The Queen went on, “But I won’t have you ruining your nice clothes. You should wear something more appropriate to the tasks at hand.”
“Of course, Mother.”
“Go to Tilley, and she will dress you in rag wear. That will be suitable for the kind of work we’ll expect of you.”
Snow stood up and left the great hall in a hurry.
The Queen heaved
a deep breath. She thought back to herself at the brink of womanhood, and of something Nanny had told her then:
Do not believe your father’s lies, my little girl. He doesn’t see you as you are and I fear for your soul should you ever let his darkness linger in your heart. You are beautiful, my dear, truly. Don’t ever forget that, even if I am not here to remind you.
She had always been beautiful and now her father, whose spirit was captured within the mirror, was bound to tell the truth. The Queen felt an immense power in that. She got up from the table, went through the arched doorway, then proceeded down the hall and stopped at the tapestry with the image of a large apple blossom tree filled with blackbirds. She remembered the story she had told Snow so many years ago about the woman who could turn into a dragon. She now felt much like that woman, isolated and alone, so different from anyone she knew. She moved the tapestry to the side and revealed a passageway leading to the dungeon.
As the Queen made her way down the stairs, she dragged her hand across the stone walls. They felt cold and hard to her touch, and she liked that. She opened the windows to give the room some air and saw a large black crow sitting on the ledge.
She had not been spending as much time in the dungeon as she had when she first discovered the books and potions, when it was all new. But she still spent many of her late afternoons and evenings there. Over time, she had become more familiar with the sisters’ books and the spells inside. Many of them kept her looking young and fair. But she’d recently been experimenting with some other kinds of spells. She had beauty and power. But she wanted more.
The books and spells had been intimidating, and alien when she first dabbled in them. But now their dusty leather covers, some embossed with silver death’s-heads, others clearly marked for which aspect of magic was detailed within, looked less sinister and more beautiful.
She recalled how clumsy her first spells were. Now, the books were as familiar as old friends.
“Striking blackbirds that searched the skies, bringing her news from the outside world,” the Queen said, recalling the story she told Snow that rainy evening so long ago.
A crow hopped in the window as if summoned and looked at her with its yellow eyes. She decided to let him stay and keep her company while she read the sisters’ books.
Then, a voice called out to her from above.
“Excuse me? My Queen, are you down here? It’s quite urgent!”
The Queen was angry at herself for ever telling Tilley where she was spending her afternoons. True, the chamber she was in was remote, but that did not mean that a nosy visitor wouldn’t stumble upon her laboratory. She would immediately have one of the workmen install a sturdier door with a stronger bolt to seal off the dungeon chamber.
“Yes, Tilley, I will be right up.”
The Queen patted the crow on its head and then ascended the stairs to see what the fuss was all about.
Tilley looked unusually distressed.
“What is it, then?” the Queen asked.
Tilley just stood, shaking, unable to speak.
“Come out with it, girl!”
The servant finally found her voice. “It’s Snow White, she was helping me fetch water from the well and somehow she…she…toppled over the edge!”
The Queen rushed out of the room and into the courtyard where she found Snow laying on the ground, soaked and unconscious. A distressed young man, the same one the Queen had seen riding on the grounds, was bending over her body. Now that she saw him up close she recognized him as a young prince from a neighboring land.
The Queen turned her attention to her daughter’s limp form, and her heart stopped. Her mother, her husband, and now her daughter—dead. The Queen was paralyzed with fear and grief. And then Snow began to cough. Water spilled from her ruby red lips, and she blinked open her eyes.
“Thank the gods!” the Queen said, clutching her hands to her chest and embracing the girl.
The Prince looked utterly relieved. He placed his hand on her cheek tenderly and said, “Thank goodness you’re alive.”
Snow looked up at him with her father’s eyes, good eyes, and said, “Thank you.”
She was clearly smitten with this young man.
The Queen stepped in and said, “Thank you, young sir, but I will take over from here.”
“Of course, my lady, may I call again tomorrow afternoon to check on the fair maiden?”
The Queen could tell he was falling in love with her.
“Perhaps, if she is up to it. Tilley will take you around the back end of the courtyard if you would like to refresh yourself before you depart. Thank you for your assistance.”
Then the Queen grabbed Snow by the arm and whisked her away into the castle.
It had been months since Snow White’s accident at the well, and the young Prince who had saved her had come to visit several times. That morning in the garden, while Snow was off helping Tilley, the Prince asked for an audience with the Queen. The Queen knew he would ask for Snow’s hand in marriage. Before he could even make his request, the Queen wanted to make it as clear as possible that he wasn’t to return to the castle. So she quickly decided she would put the issue to rest immediately.
“I am trying to spare your feelings, young man, but you’ve put me in a very uncomfortable situation where I fear I must be nothing but perfectly frank. Snow White does not love you, and I can not let my daughter marry someone she does not love,” she said.
The Prince looked crestfallen.
“I can see you thought otherwise. I’m sorry, dear Prince. Perhaps she was sparing your feelings; she really should have been honest with you,” the Queen said.
The Prince left without another word. The Queen would tell Snow White that the Prince had left a note saying that he did not love her and that he wanted to end their courtship before Snow thought he felt more deeply for her than he really did. She had done the right thing, even if it meant lying to them both. Even if it broke their hearts now, it was nothing compared to losing each other to tragedy, betrayal, or death. But she couldn’t help but feel wicked, too. And that terrified and comforted her all at once.
Somewhere in her heart she knew her motivations were also fueled by jealously. She was envious that Snow should have someone to love her and she should not. How could she stand there and watch them pledge themselves to each other in love when her love was walled away?
And what would the King think of his Queen now? She sometimes imagined that he was looking upon her from wherever he was, judging her for what had become her wicked ways. She felt that something else within her was taking over, and that she no longer had any ability to control her own actions.
But no, Snow White would thank her one day for sparing her heartache. She would understand.
The Queen rushed to her chamber and went again to the mirror. She needed comfort and she received it. As usual, she was fairest.
But when the Queen looked at herself in the mirror, she didn’t seem like the same woman. Yes, she was beautiful, but there was something different about her eyes. There was a harshness to her beauty—it was cold and removed. She thought that it added an elegance and majesty to her demeanor, something a queen should possesses. But it didn’t quell her fears that she was losing herself in grief, fear, and most of all, vanity.
Her only comfort it seemed was her Slave, her father, whom she had grown to trust in her years of solitude. She asked him, “Do I seem much changed to you?”
“Indeed, my Queen, you do,” he said.
“How so?” she asked.
“You are stately, queenly, and elegant.”
“Do I seem cold to you?” the Queen asked.
“No, my Queen, you are not cold, you have simply matured into a distinguished woman of high station. You are the Queen and cannot be bothered with matters of the heart.”
Matters of the heart—it seemed not long ago that her heart ruled her. But now, ruling a kingdom in solitude, her heart seemed all but lost. As if her thoughts were
open to him, the man in the mirror continued, “A woman of your stature cannot be governed by her emotions, lest she be unable to handle the tasks at hand.”
And with that advice she went about the business of the day.
But she soon faced something she was not expecting.
Tilley came running down a corridor. “My Queen,” she shouted, smiling. “A party has arrived!”
“I was not expecting anyone. Ask them to leave,” the Queen said bitterly.
But before Tilley could give her command, someone had entered the hall.
“It has been so long since I’ve last seen you, Majesty. I have missed you these many long years.”
The Queen felt a flood of emotion—Verona. She quickly checked herself in a hall mirror to allay any fears that she looked ragged. The Queen’s poor shattered heart leaped, and then quickly sank. She did not know what to make of this visit.
Verona had fallen in love on her mission and been married to a lord.
The Queen felt that emotion which had now become familiar to her—a mix of joy and jealousy for her friend.
They had been so very close at one time, and now she wondered how she had gone so many years without Verona’s company and friendship. The thought of it confounded her, but she buried it deep within herself, resolute not to let her love weaken her sense of strength.
Despite her relief to have Verona out of the kingdom, she had missed her so much—especially during those first few months after her departure. She felt icy and horrid when she thought of it, sending her dearest friend away for the sake of vanity and selfishness. Seeing Verona in the castle reawakened something in the Queen—something human and warm. Yes, she was happy to have her friend back in her company.
The Queen arranged a splendid evening just for the two of them in the great hall. The room was glowing with candles, and the table filled with rich, savory foods that she knew were Verona’s favorites. The meal was wonderful, but the conversation was awkward. What does one talk about with an old friend after one has sufficiently reminisced?
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