Snow White and the Queen

"Every fairy tale has a bloody lining."

-Alice Hoffman

***

"Mirror, mirror, on the wall..."

"What's that, mother?"

The Queen turned away from the glass. Her stepdaughter sat at the tower window, embroidery in her lap, looking puzzled.

"Just something I used to say when I was a little girl," said the Queen. "A rhyming game. There's a second part to it, but I can never remember how it goes."

She looked at the mirror again, frowning over her reflection. Something didn't look quite right about it.

It was then she remembered—with a start—that a man was still waiting for her. He was the captain of the castle guard, one of the only people allowed into the Queen's private sitting room, here with some report or another. She allowed him to kneel, then took the scroll from him. "What's this?"

"A writ of execution, your majesty," said the captain.

The Princess looked startled. The Queen bit her lip. "For whom?"

"A woman in the township has been convicted of witchcraft. Some peddler."

"They're certain of her guilt?" said the Queen.

"The bishop swears it was a thorough inquiry." The captain paused. "But the final authority is yours."

The Queen sighed, then went to her desk and found the royal seal, pressing it into the scroll and handing it back. She noted that the Princess watched the captain leave, with an expression the Queen did not entirely approve of. But the captain was a handsome man, and what else could she expect?

The Queen sat by the window, opposite her stepdaughter. The Princess lowered her eyes in a gesture of respect. The captain, of course, had been looking at the Princess too, watching the rise and fall of her white breast and the barest flickering of the tongue between her red, red lips.

There was nothing so eye-catching as the expanse of pure white flesh over the neckline of the Princesses' favorite dress. It couldn't be helped.

"Do you know," said the Queen, abruptly, "I was sitting at this window the first time I held you in my arms?"

The Princess had no visible reaction.

"There was a blizzard that night. You were still only a baby. And as I looked at you I said, I wish this child should grow to have lips as red as blood, hair as black as ebony, and skin as white as—"

The Queen stopped. She bit her lip again.

"Go on?" said the Princess.

"It's not important."

Was I ever so beautiful at her age, the Queen wondered, looking at the Princess? Did the people who looked at me feel what I feel now, looking at her?

"We must talk about a serious matter," said the Queen, trying to stow her own thoughts. "You're long past the age when we should have had you married."

The Princess sat forward a little.

"Many eligible lords from other provinces desire to pay your court..."

"Oh Mother, who?" said the Princess. "Has the Duke of Hammand spoken to you?"

"But you must never marry," the Queen said. The Princess looked stunned.

"I don't understand?"

"When I die, you'll become queen. There are no men with strong claims to the throne, so there'll be no one to challenge your authority.

"But men don't like kneeling to a woman. If there was any man around who could replace me, he would have years ago. That's why I've never remarried, and why you can never marry at all. Your husband would be a threat to everything we've worked for."

"But if I marry a good man, who will make a good king—" said the Princess.

"There are no good kings," the Queen said. "And there are no good queens."

"You're a good queen!" said the Princess.

"Few think so. In the townships they call me the evil queen, and the wicked stepmother."

"They do?"

"It doesn't matter," said the Queen. "They don't have to love me so long as they stay loyal to me. They'll be just as loyal to you, as long as you don't make the mistake of giving them anyone else to switch their allegiance to."

The Princess looked helpless. "But to always be alone..."

The queen moved behind her stepdaughter's chair, cradling her head. "Well, you can have however many lovers you wish. But you have to be discrete. Your enemies will call you a whore if they ever find out. Never seem anything but pure and virginal. As pure January sn—"

A little sigh from the Princess cut her off. The Queen stroked her stepdaughter's cheek. She paused again, and though her outward demeanor didn't change, her heart was racing. Should she really say what she was thinking next?

"Of course," she continued, "there are many ways to be happy. You are such a beauty, my darling. You are the only thing in the world that matters to me."

"That's very sweet, mother," said the Princess. "But—"

"I've tried my best to love you as your real mother would. The Queen put the Princesses' hand to her breast. "Do you feel my heart beating? It beats for you. A mother's love is special. It can be all you need, if you let it. Who else in the entire world can love you like I do? Who else has admired your beauty for your entire life?

"But of course, we are not blood relations. There would be no sin in it. Don't you see how perfect it is? And am I not beautiful too? Can you not love me? Or perhaps you could grow to love me in that way? With time?"

The Princess looked shocked. The Queen panicked and, before anything else could happen, she pressed her lips to her stepdaughter's. She held the trembling kiss for a handful of seconds and then pulled away, giddy with the succulent, decadent thrill of it all.

But then she saw the fear in her stepdaughter's eyes; fear, and disgust. The Queen looked away, bowing her head with shame.

"Of course, there are other ways too," she said. The Princess said nothing. The Queen turned back to the mirror. "Go and rest. You've had a long day. There are even longer days ahead. Yes, we both need rest..."

The Princess left her embroidery behind. The Queen watched her go with the threat of tears stinging her eyes. All of a sudden, before she even really knew what she was doing, she flew to the door and ran into the corridor, catching up with the Princess just as she was passing the captain of the guard on the stairs.

"Captain!" cried the Queen. "Arrest my daughter."

The Princess whirled around; the captain gaped. The servants nearby cried out. "Your majesty?" the captain said.

The Queen put her hands on her hips. "Lock her in her chambers until I order her freed."

The Princess said nothing. The nearby sentries, their movements slow and their faces ashen, seized on her, though each put only a hand on one of her elbows. The captain regained his composure first.

"What is the charge?" he said.

The Queen pursed her lips. "Treason."

The Queen heard one of the sentries whisper an apology to the Princess. She said nothing, going along meekly, with her eyes on the floor. The Queen went back to the sitting room and locked herself in. Then she paced up and down.

Would the Princess tell anyone what happened? Would anyone believe her? The Queen contemplated her mirror again; why was she so drawn to it tonight? She touched the glass, tracing her features in it...

"Mirror, mirror, on the wall," she whispered. "Who's the fairest of them all?"

"The princess is fairest. Fairest by far."

The Queen whirled around. "Who's there?" she said.

"Look here," the voice said again. The Queen peered at the looking glass. Was it coming from—? But that was impossible.

She saw that her reflection had somehow changed. It was smirking at her, for one thing. The mirror spoke, with a voice that was vacant and slightly masculine:

"The princess is the fairest in all the land," it said. "Her lips as red as blood, her hair as black as ebony, and her skin as white as snow."

"You're right," said the Queen. "She is beautiful..."

"She's more than beautiful!" said the mirror. "She is beauty itself. But you? You age. The years lie more heavily on you every day. Why would the fairest girl in all the land ever love an aging matron who will visit the grave before her time?"

"You're right," said the Queen. She chewed her fingernails and paced.

"But if you were to become more beautiful," the mirror continued, "the fairest of them all, then she would not be able to resist you. She would throw herself at your feet."

"But how?"

"There are powers beyond the kin of most mortals that you may yet call upon," said the mirror.

At first the Queen didn't know what this meant. Then, the realization coming to her, she ran to the corridor and cried for the nearest sentry. She didn't bother waiting for the man to kneel before demanding, "The execution, is it over? Is the witch woman dead?"

"I don't know, your majesty."

The Queen flew to her desk, scratching a quill across parchment as fast as she could. She set the royal seal on the pardon and handed it, wax still dripping, to the sentry. "Go as fast as you can. Bring that woman to the castle, and dally for nothing!"

The man left in such a hurry that he didn't even salute. The Queen paced some more. Her reflection watched her with a smile. After an hour they brought the prisoner in, an old crone with not a tooth in her head. The witch tried to curtsy, but her knees wouldn't bend properly after a week in shackles. The Queen sent everyone else away, and the two were alone together.

"So," said the Queen, regarding the old woman. "Is it true?"

The witch seemed at a loss.

"Is it true that you've had congress with the devil, and that he taught you magic arts?"

"No, your highness," said the witch.

"I signed the writ of execution that said it's true, which means you're calling me a liar. That's treason, and it's punishable by death."

The old woman worked her gums and turned her jaundiced eyes from side to side. "What I'm accused of is also punishable by death. It seems your majesty would have me put to death either way, even though you're all that stopped it from happening already."

The Queen leaned in. "Tell me the truth, whatever it is, and you will be freed. I swear on...my daughter's life."

The witch's eyes lit up. She smiled with her gums and said, "Then yes, it's true."

"Tell me how."

The witch looked baffled. "All you have to do is summon the devil. But he is here already!"

The witch pointed at the mirror. The Queen's reflection leered.

"All right. What else?" said the Queen.

"You must abjure all forms of divinity. And you must have a witness who is already learned in the Forbidden Arts."

"Will you suffice?"

The witch nodded.

"Very well," said the Queen. "Here, in the eyes of this solemn witness, I renounce my bonds to every god, and to every power except the one in this mirror, provided that this being will furnish me with the power to achieve all of my ends.

"So help me...no one."

The flames of all the lamps in the room blazed, shooting six inches. Several of the glass chimneys exploded. The old witch squawked and covered her gray head, but the Queen didn't react.

"You will have all that you desire," said the mirror. "But there will be a price."

"I'll pay it."

"Be careful, your majesty," said the witch. "You are new to the power, and your familiar spirit will try to lead you to its own ends."

"Your further council is not required," said the Queen. She rang for the sentries. "Take this old crone away, and give her gold. But remember, old one, that your pardon is valid only outside the bounds of this castle and the adjoining town. If you ever return, you'll face the noose again."

Once alone, the Queen returned to the mirror. "What's your price for the beauty that will capture my daughter's heart? What rituals must I perform?"

"No ritual, oh queen," said the mirror. "Merely a favor. In the town there is a church, and there are many such churches in your kingdom, and priests, and friars, and even a bishop. You must cast them out. Pull down the churches and outlaw these holy clergy. Do this, and I will make you the most beautiful creature in the world."

"It will be done," said the Queen. She paused. "And my daughter? What should I do with her?"

"Keep her locked up until the task is complete. It will teach her respect, and a new appreciation for you."

And so it was done. The Queen's soldiers evicted the bishop and all his followers and burnt the churches, and a new law was set down against any prayers or invocations. The dungeons swarmed with prisoners and every one of her royal ministers told the Queen to abandon this mad edict, but she didn't budge.

A year passed, and the Princess languished in prison. The Queen, as per the mirror's promise, grew more beautiful every day, and though most of her subjects soon hated her, those who looked on her face couldn't help falling under the spell of burning, poisonous desire.

One day the Queen stood nude before the mirror, admiring herself. "Am I really the fairest of them all?" she said. "It seems to me that my daughter is fairer still..."

"That doesn't matter," said the mirror. "She will not be able to resist you now. Send for her."

The Queen clothed herself only in a light robe in front of the captain of the guard, and he was unable to take his eyes off of the magnificent smoothness and whiteness of her exposed flesh. She ignored his stares. "I've had a change of heart," said the Queen. "Set my daughter free and bring her to me."

"Yes, your majesty," mumbled the captain.

The Queen reclined on a chaise lounge, admiring the curves of her own calves and thighs. She had always been beautiful, but never vain. Nor was she now, at least in her mind; she coveted not beauty, but what beauty could bring her.

The Princess entered; the Queen's heart climbed into her throat. Though her stepdaughter had become wan and dark-eyed in her year of confinement, her loveliness was not diminished. Indeed, her state only added to her vulnerability.

"Oh my daughter," said the Queen. "My dear, dear daughter. How have you weathered these long months?"

"Well enough, Mother," said the Princess. "Though imprisonment runs hard on everyone sooner or later."

"Your prison is more lavish than the homes of some of the richest people in our kingdom," said the Queen.

"Not yours," said the Princess.

The Queen sighed. "You're right, of course. Your arrest was...rash. In truth, I was mad with jealousy. Can a girl your age, who has never loved, understand that? You can't know the lengths a person will go to achieve the most secret desire of her heart."

The Princess' expression remained icy.

"But that's all in the past now," said the Queen. "You are free. Just tell me, my daughter, my darling one, that you will consent to stay with me, to rule by my side and be the one and only sovereign of my heart. Please tell me you can love me, truly love me, in every way?"

The Queen threw off the robe and displayed the painful beauty of her immaculate body in all its glory. The Princess watched, unblinking...and then she shook her head, once to one side, once to the other.

"No," was all she said.

The Queen frowned. Then she came face-to-face with the younger woman, peering into her eyes, looking for her reflection there but not finding it.

"So cold, my daughter?" said the Queen. "A heart of ice, to match your skin so white?"

"My heart is my own," said the Princess.

The Queen's brow darkened. "So it is."

She put her robe back on, then knelt over her desk for a moment. When she was done she called in the captain and handed him a paper. "What's this?" he said.

"A writ of execution," the Queen said. The captain gasped. She ignored him. "Take my daughter out into the woods. Do it there, out of sight."

The captain swallowed and licked his dry lips. "And how shall I...?"

The Queen turned to the mirror. "Cut out her heart," she said.

The captain trembled as he saluted. When he was gone, the Queen returned to the mirror. "So rash again, my queen?" it said.

"You lied. No matter how beautiful I become she will never love me."

"I didn't say she would love you," said the mirror. "I said she would throw herself at your feet. And she will. You will see."

The Queen's heart burned like a ball of fire in her chest. She sat by the window, and in time a storm blew up, burying the land in white. She watched the tiny crystalline flakes collect on her windowsill.

Gradually, her rage cooled, and a sliver of doubt lodged in her breast, needling her until, while examining the intricacies of the frost on the glass, she realized what she'd done. Mortal terror seized her. She ran to the opposite window, the one facing the forest, hoping it was not too late.

But then there was the captain, waiting for her at the top of the stairs, looking shaken. My God, thought the Queen, he didn't really...

She fought to maintain her composure; no matter what, the men serving her could never be allowed to see her doubt. "Well?" said the Queen.

The captain hesitated. "There is something you must know..."

The Queen almost collapsed in relief. But no, not in front of the captain; no weakness, not ever. "I gave you an order!" she cried. Thanks the gods you didn't carry it out, she thought.

"I was fully prepared to obey you, but when I looked on her, pity seized my heart. How could it not? Would you not feel the same in my position?"

The Queen's expression softened, but only a little.

"She asked me if she could be permitted time to pray. I had to consent."

"You know the law."

"I do. But I couldn't tell her no. Order my execution, if you wish. I will carry it out myself."

The Queen merely gestured for him to continue.

"When she was done, the princess said that she had had a change of heart. She said to use that exact phrase. She said that if I would spare her life and bring her back to the castle and tell you that, all would be well. Further, she says she will wait for you in your most private bedchamber. She said that you would understand what she means."

The Queen's breath left her body. She began to swoon, but caught herself. Then she caressed the captain's cheek and kissed him, once, very lightly, on the lips. He almost fell over.

"Thank you, captain," said the Queen. "For everything."

The Queen went to her bedchamber. Along the way she ordered the servants out, promising death on whoever disturbed her this night. When she threw open the doors she found the Princess reclining in her bed, her body covered by only a single silken sheet.

"Hello, Mother."

She stood, keeping the sheet wrapped across her breasts, and then she kneeled at the Queen's feet. The Queen saw the soft line of her stepdaughter's bare back and her black-as-night hair spilling over naked white shoulders.

"I've come back to beg your forgiveness. I see now how wrong I was to reject my mother's love. I can only hope that you find it in your heart to accept me back into your graces, even though I am so undeserving."

Tears pricked the Queen's eyes. "Oh my daughter. My darling one. My heart."

The Queen went to her knees. The Princess let the sheet drop, revealing the glory of her naked body in the dim yellow lamps. The Queen dared to kiss those blood-red lips while, just behind them, a warm, wet tongue that darted back and forth in a tantalizing chase.

The Princess pulled the Queen onto bed and they tumbled down together onto the same sheets where the Queen and the Old King once shared many hours. Their hot mouths pressed together, the Princess' supple fingers combed through her stepmother's hair, long silken strands spilling around them.

The Princess removed the Queen's robe and they nestled together, each aware of the parity of their naked bodies, almost but not quite completely alike the other. The Queen looked at her own naked thigh pressed against her stepdaughter's; only the Princess' complexion indicated which belonged to which.

The Queen let her hands explore the planes and curves of the body she'd longed for so many nights, alone and cold in this same bed. The Princess sprawled on the cushions, eyes closed, face turned a little, mewling with pleasure as the Queen's fingers slid across her erect nipples.