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Once upon a time, in a kingdom far, far away, lived a beautiful princess named Snow White. She had been named so by her mother, the former queen, when she had just been born for her skin was as white and beautiful as snow. Sadly, her mother grew ill shortly after Snow White had been born, and soon after, she passed on.
Snow White's father grieved for a long time, till eventually he met a common woman, a breathtaking woman named Grimhilde who he had met on a trip to a nearby town. Grimhilde was so beautiful that the king declared her the fairest in all the land.
He showed Grimhilde a family heirloom that had been passed down, a magic mirror that could always tell when someone was the most beautiful, the fairest in all the land; his previous wife had been so, but now, he felt it was Grimhilde, so he asked her to ask the Magic Mirror who the fairest in all the land was.
"Mirror, Mirror on the wall, who is the fairest one of all?" She asked the Magic Mirror. Suddenly, a face appeared in the mirror, which scared her for a moment, but as it spoke up, she listened.
"You, Grimhilde, are the fairest one of all."
After that, the plans moved fast, and young Snow White, barely old enough to comprehend what was happening, saw her father remarry.
While her father was still alive, the time in the castle was a joyous one for Snow White, who was treated as the cute princess she was by all the staff. However, this caused a rift between Grimhilde and everyone else in the castle. While the king seemed to love her for her beauty, the rest of the staff felt like she was an interloper. At least, that is what she thought they felt.
It was during this time of readjustment, before everything had settled, that tragedy struck once more. Snow White's father, Grimhilde's husband died in a hunting accident. Suddenly, a former commoner found herself on the throne; she was not ready; she had only been chosen because her beauty had smitten the king, so she had to decide what type of ruler she would be.
She settled on a strict one. No one in the castle seemed to want her there, so she would be just as mean back. This meant everyone suffered under her cruelty born from the circumstances, especially pure Snow White, the original queen's daughter.
At first, Snow White, like most of the people in the castle, acted nice to Grimhilde, but Grimhilde could see through the act. She would come up to her and ask her to play, to be together, but Grimhilde could feel it, that Snow White really wanted to be with her mother, with her father, not with her. Grimhilde eventually told off Snow White and told her to leave her alone, and gladly, she did.
Grimhilde found it a nice gesture not to just have Snow White killed outright since she knew someday people would be asking, maybe demanding, that Snow White become the new ruler, pushing her aside. She would never allow that; she had been chosen by the king, and she knew exactly why.
For, whenever she questioned if she should be there, if she should actually be in charge, she would go to the Magic Mirror and ask it the question the king had told her to ask it so long ago.
"Mirror, Mirror on the wall, who is the fairest one of all?"
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15 Years Later
Since Queen Grimhilde closed her heart off, she had become an effective, if unloved queen. She had been distant from everyone in the castle, as well as her stepdaughter Snow White. Occasionally, Snow White would still try to talk to her, but the queen would brush her away, tell her to leave her alone, and to go frolic or whatever she does in the courtyard and garden; she had work to do.
Snow White would normally return to her room and, putting together whatever clothes she could from the rags and leftovers her stepmother let her have, she would then go out and, as the queen said, frolic with the local animals and treat the others in the castle with the respect and love that they wished the queen would show her and themselves.
All this distance, this hatred she brought upon herself, could be quelled, though when she was told by her Magic Mirror the one important truth, the reason she was queen, that she was the fairest of them all.
After one such long day, where she had made many decisions that she knew were greedy and only self-serving, she asked the Magic Mirror the question she had asked it nearly every day since her husband had passed on. "Mirror, Mirror on the Wall, who is the fairest of them all?" Then, to her shock, for the first time, he spoke differently when answering.
"Famed is thy beauty, majesty, but hold, a lovely maid I see. Rags cannot hide her gentle grace. Alas," the Magic Mirror paused, seeming to know what it was going to say would ruin multiple lives, "she is more fair than thee."
Grimhilde stood there for a moment and allowed it to sink in. She was no longer the fairest of them all; she was no longer the most beautiful; there was someone fairer than she, than her now. She grabbed her head, feeling a headache coming on. She was beside herself; how could anyone ever be more beautiful than her? All she had done since coming to the castle to preserve her beauty, the magic she had learned, and the horrible things she had done. It had all not been enough?
"Who?!" Grimhilde screamed. "Reveal her name."
The Magic Mirror again paused, seeming not to want to answer, but knowing it had to answer its master, continued.
"Lips red as the rose. Hair black as ebony." The Magic Mirror paused one final time, a look of discontent on its face growing; it knew the queen would know in a moment. "Skin as white as, snow."
"Snow White?!" Grimhilde screamed out. She grabbed the curtain next to the Magic Mirror to keep from falling, then pulled the curtain down, the rod clanging on the stone floor. She was enraged. How could Snow White be more fair than her? It was not fair; she had already been the one chosen by the previous queen, by her husband, by the castle's staff; they all loved her more than she, and now, now, she was even more fair than her. It was too much, she would, she would have to fix this.
Thoughts of what to do to Snow White entered her mind. To banish her would be the easiest solution, but the people would rally around her to bring her back; they would see to it that The Evil Queen was killed for her transgressions.
Then, she considered torturing Snow White. Maybe she could maim her until she was no longer fair and beautiful, then she would be the fairest again. However, something the Magic Mirror said, rags could not hide her gentle grace; no, even if tortured, even if she was disfigured beyond all recognition, Snow White would still someday be considered fairer than her again. Then, what if it got out? Then she would be stoned and likely killed; Grimhilde did not want that.
Next, she thought of the huntsman, one of her few loyal retainers. She could order him to take Snow White to the forest, where she loved to play with the animals so much, and have him tear out her heart to present it to her so that she would know that the one fairer than her was dead. It could be seen as a tragedy, that the beloved princess had died out in the woods. This had its own issues, though: what if the Huntsman failed and she escaped, or even worse, what if he, like everyone else, loved Snow White more and betrayed her. No, she would have to take care of this herself.
That is when it hit her; Queen Grimhilde had a wonderful idea, one to ensure that she once again would be the fairest of them all. She started to laugh, an evil maniacal laugh that filled every corner of the chamber she had kept the Magic Mirror in. The Magic Mirror had gone back to sleep, not wanting to stay around while the queen's rage exploded, but if it had not, it would have noticed the glee in Queen Grimhilde's eyes while thinking of this plan.
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The following morning, Snow White awoke and was taken aback; in her room, near the door, was her stepmother the queen. She cowered for a moment, then realized something, something that she would have never expected, the expression on the queen's face; it was not one she normally showed Snow White; one of anger, malice, or jealousy, all emotions she felt constantly from her, but one of warmth, of, it almost looked like, longing.
"Snow White," Grimhilde started, while slowly moving towards the side of the bed where Snow White still lay, her voice softer than Snow White had ever heard before. "My dear Snow White, my," Grimhilde paused, as if looking for the words, "my stepdaughter." She paused, now at the foot of the bed, looking down at Snow White.
"For so many years, I have let my feelings of inadequacy, of fear, of jealousy drive a wedge between the two of us." Grimhilde then started to walk again, slowly next to the bed, next to Snow White. "I know I do not deserve forgiveness or love, but I hope that maybe we can start to talk, that I can start to make up for all those years, those horrible fifteen years I have treated you so wrongly." Grimhilde paused, then to Snow White's shock, she got down on a knee and held out her hand, signaling that she wanted to help Snow White out of bed.
Snow White sitting there for a moment felt tears form in her eyes. This is all she had ever wanted, to be loved by the woman who had also loved her father. She smiled, and accepted her stepmother's hand, which led her out of bed. She then hugged Grimhilde, which took Grimhilde aback for a moment. She then recomposed herself and motioned for Snow White to follow her.
As they started to walk, Grimhilde started to tell Snow White that they had much time to make up for, but Grimhilde knew the perfect place to start. She led Snow White to the royal tailor who had long hoped to make a dress for Snow White, but had long accepted that it may never happen, so when Grimhilde entered the room, he was ready for another extravagant, and near impossible design to be asked of him. A moment later, though, Snow White entered, and his expression became one of shock.
"Princess?" He asked, looking beyond the queen to the woman who had just entered. A momentary look of anger flashed over Grimhilde, but she hid it before anyone else could see it.
"Yes tailor," Grimhilde answered, calling the tailor by his title rather than name. The truth was, at first Grimhilde had tried to learn the names of the servants, but slowly, she realized there were many of them, and, well, if they did not want her around, why should she bother to learn their names? "Snow White is here, and we would like to have a dress made for her. What do you have in mind?"
The tailor put down the soldier's uniform he had been repairing and ran towards a book he had kept on his desk; inside were many designs. He flipped the pages and found one he had made a few weeks back, when he had last seen Snow White. It was a white dress with star and planet patterns on it, green and blue, respectfully. "I have always wanted to design a dress for you," he explained, looking down at the design he had made.
He then ripped out the page, then walked over to Snow White and showed it to her. Snow White looked at it and closed her eyes so she could imagine herself in the dress. She spun, both in her imagination and real life, while imagining the dress and how it would flow. She would look wonderful in it, like a real princess. "I love it!" She exclaimed, then handed the picture back to the tailor, who put it up to his heart.
Just then, the queen cleared her throat and slightly glared at the tailor. "May I have a look at it?" The tailor looked down, breaking eye contact with the queen, then nodded and handed the picture to the queen who looked at it; then, to the tailor's shock, she looked at Snow White and, smiled, a nice warm smile.
"This is really nice Snow White." The queen started, then thought for a moment. "However, are you sure there is nothing you would want to change about the design?" The queen looked at Snow White with an inquisitive gaze.
Snow White chuckled, then shook her head no, "No stepmother, the dress is great, how could I ask for anything else?"
The tailor took pride in Snow White giving his design such a great review, but Queen Grimhilde put up her hand, still holding the picture, to tell Snow White to be quiet for a moment. "It may be a great design, but it is not perfect; you would have said so otherwise, so there must be something about the design that you would want changed." Grimhilde gave a small smile, one that seemed to be telling Snow White to be more honest, so Snow White looked down.
"No, there are no changes needed." She replied, then Grimhilde shook her head.
"Just tell the tailor what is wrong; he deserves the chance to make the best dress he can." Grimhilde answered back, which caused Snow White to look up and then look at the tailor, who seemed to be curious about Snow White's issue.
Then, in a soft voice that seemed to be apologizing before she even began, Snow White started. "I love the colors, but, um, I am not that interested in planets or the stars; could, um, could they be flowers instead?"
Grimhilde looked down at the picture, then handed it back to the tailor, giving him a small glare as she did so. The tailor looked down at the picture, then put on a smile. "Yes, that would be fine; flowers will look great there too. Green stars, what was I thinking, green flowers make much more sense. Snow White smiled at his answer, then looked over at Grimhilde, who smiled back at her. The pair then went to leave, with Snow White leaving first, and Grimhilde staying behind a moment longer to say one last thing to the tailor.
"Do not mess up this dress." She explained, looking, for the first time since she had entered, like the queen the tailor had gotten to know over the years.
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That night, for the first time that Snow White could remember, she and her stepmother ate dinner together, and it was a lovely time. Grimhilde seemed to be genuinely interested in how Snow White's day had gone and what her thoughts were. The pair were having a good time discussing the state of the royal garden when the dessert, an apple pie, was brought in.
The server cut a slice for Snow White, winking at her that it was a slightly bigger slice than she had given the queen. Snow White lightly chuckled and smiled back at the server then took the first bite.
She sat there, and a look of concern showed on Snow White's face, but only for a moment before she smiled again.
"Is something the matter Snow White?" Grimhilde asked her from across the table, the piece of pie now being delivered to her by the server.
"Um, everything is fine." Snow White answered back, not able to stop the feeling that something was off about the pie.
"Are you sure?" The queen asked back, her face one of growing concern. Feeling guilt about the look of concern on her stepmother's face, Snow White decided to speak up.
"Something is... off about the pie. It tastes, underdone, like it is still squishy." She explained, then looked down, feeling guilt over complaining about the food that had been provided to her and her stepmother.
Grimhilde took her fork and then stabbed the pie with more force than had been needed, feeling a lack of crunch from the crust. She looked over at the server, a glare from her eyes causing the server to look away. She then took the bite and put it in her mouth. She put down the fork, took the cloth to the side of the plate and cleaned around her mouth for a moment, then motioned to the server before she started to speak, her voice calm but angry.
"Please bring the royal chef to the table at once." She ordered the server, who ran to the back to get the server.
"Stepmother, it is fine," Snow White tried to explain while Grimhilde waited, looking at the door where the chef would come in with that glare she so loved to use. "It was just a little under cooked." Grimhilde then redirected her look at Snow White, and while she softened it, she kept the glare at her stepdaughter who looked away.
Suddenly, worry entered Snow White. Had she ruined everything? It had been less than a day since her stepmother had finally started to speak to her, to really feel like she wanted to be with her, and she had spoken out of turn and ruined it. How could she do this? She just wanted to be with her stepmother, to be happy with her. She then looked up, quickly, and saw that she was still glaring at her; then she cleared her throat to gain Snow White's attention.
"Snow White," she started, her voice one looking to teach rather than one filled with anger, which calmed Snow White down enough to look at her again. "I have treated you poorly for most of your life, so you do not realize this, but you are a princess. You need to demand a certain amount of competence around you always."
Snow White was about to respond, to tell her stepmother about how wrong that way of feeling about others was, but just as she was about to speak up, the server came in, followed by the royal chef.
Grimhilde then looked at Snow White. "Tell him what you told me. Tell him what is wrong with the pie."
"It's not a big deal." Snow White tried to explain, but Grimhilde was having none of it.
"Tell him!" Grimhilde raised her voice for the first time around Snow White that day, and it reminded her of how things used to be between the pair, so she decided to tell the chef.
"Um, I'm sorry, really sorry, but, um," she struggled to complain about the food; it had been provided to her; she should not complain, but she looked up and saw her stepmother looking at her, the slight glare still there, and she continued. "I think the apple pie was under cooked." The chef's face lost all color when Snow White said this. "I took a bite, and it felt soft, doughy; it was not as hard as apple pies normally are." She looked at the chef, saw his look of despair, and started to apologize. "I'm sorr-," before she was cut off by her stepmother.
"You heard her." Grimhilde began. "Even Snow White has found something wrong with your pie." Grimhilde sighed, then looked at Snow White, who seemed close to tears from her guilt. Grimhilde sighed once more, then closed her eyes and grabbed the bridge of her nose, then opened them again, the glare gone. "You are lucky that Snow White is here. If it were up to me, you would be fired right now." Grimhilde paused, seeing Snow White's face calm down a little, and Grimhilde nodded. "However, let this be a lesson, no, a warning to you chef. If you mess up again, Snow White will not be able to save you from my wrath."
"I understand," the chef quickly replied, then ran back to the kitchen.
Grimhilde looked across the table at Snow White and sighed, "I am sorry you had to see that Snow White, but," Grimhilde paused, seeming to choose her words, standing up to take her leave from dinner, "they need to know their place."
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That night, Snow White was preparing for sleep, only it was different from normal. Whereas before, she would have been doing it by herself, happy that she had even a small room in the castle to call her own, now, she had a woman helping her get ready. The woman, a young handmaiden named Rose, seemed nice, so she and Snow White had a nice little conversation, which provided a much-needed reprieve from what was mainly on her mind.
Every time Snow White closed her eyes, she saw the chef's face, pale, almost as white as her new, clean sheets, as she told him what was wrong with the pie. She tried to explain this to Rose, but Rose just said stuff like he was into his work or he was afraid of her stepmother, but it was the fact that it was her, not her stepmother who had given him that fear, made him that afraid, that really bothered her, and Rose seemed not to be able to understand. Snow White sadly realized that there were just some things that people like Rose would not be able to understand. No, there was only one person Snow White could think of that might understand this feeling, so she left her room and went to the queen's chamber.
Once she arrived at the chambers, she paused, wondering if this was really the correct thing to do. Even though she was worried, she decided to talk to her stepmother anyway. So, she knocked on the door and was met by one of the two handmaidens who were helping the queen prepare for sleep herself. Grimhilde saw that it was Snow White that entered, and a smile grew on her face, like she had been expecting her. She told the two handmaidens, who she just called handmaidens, to leave her so that she may speak to her stepdaughter, which the pair proceeded to do.
Snow White entered and was taken aback by how much larger this chamber was than the room she normally slept in. The queen took note and chuckled, "Don't worry, in a day or two, we will get you a room actually worthy of a princess."
Snow White blushed and said her room was fine, but Grimhilde explained that they were already cleaning a new room for her, and it should be ready by the end of the week. Snow White was happy to have a nicer room and smiled, then Grimhilde's expression changed to one of interest.
"Why did you want to see me this night, Snow White?" She asked, and Snow White at once remembered her reason for being here.
"I, um," Snow White struggled to find the words to say what she wanted to say, but Grimhilde waited patiently for Snow White, allowing her to find them. "I still feel guilty about how I treated the chef tonight." Snow White then paused and remembered, "and how I treated the tailor earlier."
"What do you mean?" Grimhilde asked back, acting like she had no idea what Snow White was even talking about.
"Well, with the tailor, he had, um, come up with a good design for a dress that I could wear, and I, I asked him to change it. How could I do that? I don't have a dress; what right do I have to complain about a new dress?" Snow White looked at Grimhilde, her face full of doubt. Grimhilde said nothing, so Snow White continued.
"Then, there is what I did to the chef. He made food for me, for us, and I had the, the gall to complain about it. To say it was under cooked. It was not a big deal; it was just a little squishy. I did not need to do that; I was far too harsh to him." Snow White finished, then waited for an answer from her stepmother.
Grimhilde was quiet for a moment looking at Snow White like she was pondering what to say back, what her answer would be; finally, she started.
"Snow White, you are a princess. You had a king for a father and a queen for a mother. As such, there are certain expectations of you from the people of this country. They expect you to represent the best of this country. To have the nicest dresses, to eat the best food, those are just two parts of being a princess." Grimhilde paused, thinking for another moment.
"I see nothing wrong in you asking the tailor to get your dress correct. You said it yourself; you are not interested in planets. When I have seen you over the years, you are not staring at the stars, wishing for some prince; you are in the garden, or sometimes in the woods, with animals and their ilk. I, who had been, horribly, ignoring you, knew that. The tailor should have too."
Grimhilde then stood up and stood behind Snow White, putting her hand on her shoulder. "As for the chef, I, we, you have to have a firm hand with people who serve us. The chef might have just under cooked the food slightly today, but what if he messes up when we have a dignitary visit, or what if he makes us eat food that makes us sick? He needs to know that any mistakes will not be tolerated."
Grimhilde then pushed down her hand, making her position with Snow White a bit firmer; Snow White, in response, grabbed the hand. "I know what I said to him was harsh, but frankly, I do not think it was harsh enough. You feel guilt just for telling him his food was not cooked well, making him look worried; how would he respond if he made you sick, or me? No, I was too soft on him, and I did that for you, remember that." Grimhilde then walked back over to her bed and sat on it. "Does that answer your worry?"
"No," Snow White admitted back, "I still feel like it is wrong for us to do that."
Grimhilde sighed, then patted the spot next to her to have Snow White sit down. "Come here."
Snow White walked over and sat at the spot her stepmother had patted. "Okay," she tried to explain. "Snow White, like I said before, the people of this country, they look at us to be on the top. That means that if a person in this castle fails, they are failing us, they are failing the country, and they need to be gotten rid of. The Royal Chef is a major position, one that many chefs in this country want. If the current one can not even cook an apple pie, they do not deserve the job. Do you understand?"
"I just don't." Snow White responded, wanting to say more, but feeling wrong about both what her stepmother was saying and the fact that she felt like her stepmother might be wrong. "I'm sorry."
Grimhilde started to run her hands through Snow White's hair and laughed. "It is okay, just think about what I said Snow White. Just think about it."
Snow White then went back to her room and thought about what her stepmother had said. Were she and her stepmother settled in, her thoughts grew more and more hazy. The more tired she became, the harder it was to find fault in her stepmother's opinion.
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The next day, in the late morning, Snow White and Queen Grimhilde were taking a leisurely stroll through the gardens. Their footsteps out of sync on the cobblestone that had been placed there before Snow White had been born. Snow White paused to look at the various flowers, admiring their beauty and scent, while Grimhilde kept her face forward.
"Stepmother?" Snow White phrased like a question. "Why do you not stop and look at the flowers, or at least to smell them?"
Grimhilde paused and took a moment to think. She looked around the garden, taking it in before she sighed. She then turned around and smiled at her stepdaughter. "Snow White, to be honest, I am not a fan of gardens; it was always something your," Grimhilde stopped, put a finger in her mouth and bit it slightly, before taking it out. "It was something your real mother was more into. Your father told me once how his previous wife had loved to spend time in the gardens, so I, I chose not to spend time there." Grimhilde sighed, then smiled again. "You love the garden; it is a sign you are much like your mother, your real mother, and not, not like me." A look of sorrow formed on Grimhilde's face, and Snow White felt guilt for what she had done.
"I'm sorry stepmother, I am sorry for mentioning that." Snow White's voice was of exasperation, like she did not mean to make her stepmother remember such a horrible memory.
A small smile formed on Grimhilde's face, and she changed the topic. "So, tell me Snow White, did you think about what we discussed last night in my chamber?"
Snow White paused, then asked if they could sit down. There was a nearby stone bench, so the pair went to it. Snow White leaned onto her stepmother and smiled looking up at her. "Can I be honest stepmother?" She asked, and Grimhilde nodded her head. "This talk of us being better because we were born to be better, it doesn't feel right to me. I was talking to Rose, the woman who helped me get ready for sleep last night, and I am not better than her just because of who my father is; I am not better than her at all."
Grimhilde looked down at Snow White and smiled. "That is a nice way of thinking Snow White, but," Grimhilde looked up, then back down at Snow White, "it is wrong. Actually, I think you misunderstood my point entirely." Grimhilde sat up, and Snow White stopped leaning on her.
"Snow White, I was not born a queen. I was born as a commoner. My father was a shoe shiner. I was seen by your father one day, and he approached me. Me and your father got together, and that was how I became the queen. I was lucky; if your father had seen me before your mother died, nothing would have happened, but he saw me after, and I became the queen. If someone is meant to lead, the way to lead will come to them. For me, it was meeting your father at the right time. For you," Grimhilde paused, then smiled at Snow White, "it was being born a princess. You already have the path to the throne; to be the leader of this country, I had to luck into it; you were born into it. You claim it is about how you were born that I am talking about, no, it is destiny."
"Destiny?" Snow White asked back. There was a certain logic to what her stepmother was saying, but she still did not feel convinced.
"Yes, destiny." The queen answered back. "Let me explain it another way. Would you want the tailor to cook your dinner?" Grimhilde waited, and Snow White shook her head no. "Would you want the chef to tend to this garden? Would you want a soldier to raise the livestock? People are destined for certain positions, and they will reach them. You are a princess; you are destined to be a princess, and eventually, a queen."
Grimhilde then looked away from Snow White, as if remembering some shame. "I must confess Snow White, I, I was jealous of your destiny. How you would always be accepted by everyone, how you would be queen and everyone would love you, it made me sick because I always felt like an outsider in this castle. Your father loved me, and I loved him, but the others in the castle, I could feel that they thought I was just a replacement. I took that resentment out on others, including you." Grimhilde wiped away a tear then continued.
"I know you were trying to be nice to me, Snow White, that you were trying to reach me, but I saw you, I saw what you represented, destined to be a queen, a reminder of your mother; I could not take it. It was just, I was born elsewhere; I was not born as a queen; I became one, and, and with reaching you, I feel like I am finally becoming the queen I was always meant to be."
Snow White grabbed her stepmother's hand, then pulled her in for a hug, "It is okay stepmother, I forgive you. It was not your fault." Snow White and Grimhilde sat there hugging, but a thought entered Snow White's mind, one that she had never even considered before, an evil thought, one she tried to push away as soon as it entered her mind.
"After all, you were a commoner."
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That night, as Snow White prepared for sleep with Rose's help, the conversation she had with her stepmother played in her head over and over. She wanted to share her thoughts with Rose, but she stopped short of doing so. She remembered the previous night where Rose had added nothing to the conversation she had tried to have with her about her worries, being more of a yes-woman than anything, and felt it was not worth even attempting.
The other issue was that Snow White's current worries were so far above Rose that it was almost a joke. Rose was just a handmaiden to her; Snow White was having to think about the very concept of destinies and what it meant. Had Rose been born to be a handmaiden? Would she find a new destiny later in life like the queen did? It was all a bit too much to ask a handmaiden.
Once Rose was done, Snow White went into the bed, and her thoughts continued to be focused on the conversation, the idea of destiny, of people not being able to do the job they had, and slowly, while she was considering this, she fell asleep...
Snow White found herself at the table where she and her stepmother ate their meals. Before her was brought an apple pie. She picked up her fork and went to stab it to get a piece, but the moment the fork hit the pie, Snow White could tell something was wrong. She brought the piece she had cut off to her mouth and put it in. The taste was all wrong. He had messed up again, that foolish chef. She stood up and told the server that she was going to go see her mother.
The server followed Snow White, as she always should, as she walked through the castle, with the pie on the tray it had been served on. Snow White entered the throne room and found her mother on the throne. "Mother, a grave injustice has been done." She explained, then walked up right in front of the throne. "The Royal Chef has messed up my apple pie again." The server then presented the pie, which was brought up to the queen. The queen poked it a few times then ordered a guard to bring the chef to the room. Snow White waited to the side, a smile on her face, oh, she could not wait to see this happen.
Soon, the chef was brought in and brought before the queen, forced down to his knees. "What is wrong, my queen?" He asked, looking down, not daring to look into her, or anyone's eyes. Except, he looked over at Snow White, who smiled at him, oh she could not wait.
"You have failed to make apple pie for the final time!" She proclaimed, the words bouncing off all the walls of the throne room. "For that, you shall be fired."
The chef tried to stand up, but the guards kept him on the ground. "But, but, my queen..." He tried to stammer, but she had none of it. She motioned with her hand to have the chef taken away.
Meanwhile, on the side, Snow White was clapping and jumping up and down in glee. Oh, it was so much fun to see such a failure get fired. She just wished it could happen more often. Alas, her mother was quite good at hiring the right people for the right job. She continued to clap, giggle, and jump. Then, slowly, she started to wake up.
Snow White could feel her heart beating fast as she remembered the dream, her anger at the bad apple pie, her going straight to her mother, no, her stepmother, the chef being fired, and worst of all, her happiness at it. She laid there and wondered why she took so much pleasure in seeing a commoner like him lose his job.
She sat up and grabbed her legs; that nightmare was so unlike her; the image of her laughing at another's misfortune, it was just so wrong. It made her feel ill.
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The next morning, Snow White was having breakfast with her stepmother and could not get the unsettling feeling she felt out of her head. How she had taken pleasure in seeing the Royal Chef get fired, how she clapped, and hopped with joy; it was all so much for her. The nightmare she had the night before, she had to tell someone about it, and the perfect person was sitting across from her at the table; her stepmother would know what to make of it.
"Stepmother," she began, gaining Grimhilde's attention, "last night, I had a peculiar dream."
Grimhilde nodded, then spoke. "Please Snow White, tell me about this dream."
Snow White then went and explained what happened in the dream, how she had been given another apple pie that had been messed up again, how she was angry, and how she went straight to her and told her about it. She then told the queen about her emotions in the dream, how Snow White had a sense of anticipation going to see her, how when she struck down that the chef was now fired, how gleeful Snow White was. She talked about how she was not just happy, she was overjoyed, to the point where she was clapping and hopping in happiness.
The queen considered what Snow White had told her and took a bite of the toast she had. She then wiped the side of her mouth with a napkin and looked over, not at Snow White, but at the server who was in the room with them.
"Server," she began, addressing the woman, "what I am about to tell Snow White is between me and her; I will ask you to leave."
The server nodded, looked away, then left the room, leaving just Snow White and her stepmother there. Snow White wondered what her stepmother was about to say that only she could hear; was it something important. Her curiosity had been piqued.
Grimhilde then stood up and walked across the table; she stood before Snow White, then, surprising Snow White, the queen hugged her. "I am sorry to hear you have such a horrible nightmare." She began, then started to stroke her hair; when she did so, Snow White closed her eyes, feeling better. Grimhilde had noticed that Snow White enjoyed it when she did so. "However," the queen switched, "I see nothing wrong with how you acted in the dream."
"But it felt so wrong." Snow White answered back, which caused her stepmother to shake her head.
"No, Snow White, you were in the right in your dream. The chef had failed you, failed me, failed us, no, he failed the kingdom. He had shown an inability to improve once a mistake he had made was pointed out. Maybe, maybe, if he had made a different mistake, there would be room for discussion, but he messed up the pie in the exact same way." Grimhilde paused for a moment, still stroking Snow White's hair, before continuing. "He was the one mistakenly Snow White, not you; he had failed; there is no problem with enjoying righteous punishments, and if someone makes mistakes like that, especially people thought of as being the best, there is no problem with being happy they will not be around to make the same mistake again."
Snow White thought on her stepmother's words, and tried to respond, "but-" but her stepmother stopped her.
"If you are still worried after that dream Snow White, don't be. It was just a dream, nothing more, nothing less. We have been talking about destiny and the importance of doing one's job correctly a lot lately. It is only natural that you dream about it." Grimhilde then stopped stroking Snow White's hair and looked at her, smiling.
Snow White looked at her stepmother; this still felt wrong, but her stepmother, the queen, was so certain, it was just enough to get Snow White to push her worries about the dream away, at least for now. "I guess you are right stepmother." Snow White finally responded. "It was all just a dream."
====================
Later in the day, the pair were once again going through the garden. Snow White knew her stepmother hated the garden, so the fact that she would take a stroll through there with her meant the world to Snow White. It was while she was admiring her loving stepmother that the queen continued the lessons.
"You have to understand Snow White, that the position we hold in society is a reflection of our inherent qualities." The queen paused, then looked over Snow White, causing Snow White to pause as well. "You are beautiful Snow White, some would," Grimhilde paused for a moment, slightly biting her lip before continuing, "say you are the fairest in all of our land. That is not surprising, though; you are the princess after all."
Snow White smiled and asked, "you think I am pretty?"
Grimhilde softly laughed, then continued, "Yes Snow White, you are beautiful. Your lips are as red as the most beautiful rose. Your hair is as black as the deepest ebony. Then, there is your skin, your fair, beautiful skin, white as snow." Grimhilde paused and smiled for a moment. "Did your father ever tell you why you are called Snow White?"
Snow White shook her head. No, she had been too young to remember much about her father; she remembered a happy face, especially when he was with her stepmother, or was it her mother; she could not really remember who was with him, and that was about it.
Grimhilde chuckled slightly, then motioned for Snow White to join her on the stone bench they normally rested on. "Your mother, your," Grimhilde paused, looking sad for a moment, "your real mother, she saw you and she declared you the most beautiful baby she had ever seen. She declared that your skin was, as I just said, white as snow, so that became your name, Snow White." Grimhilde gave a melancholy smile, then spoke one last time, "you were named by your mother to emphasis your beauty."
Snow White had to wipe away a tear; she rarely thought of her parents, especially her mother, but hearing that her mother had named her to emphasize how beautiful she was made her feel closer to her mother than she had before. "Thank you for telling me that stepmother." Snow White answered, then the pair sat there for a few minutes in thought. Snow White was thinking about how pretty she was, how her mother had made sure with her name that she would always remember.
Finally, Grimhilde spoke back up. "This is just one of the examples of how you have been picked out to be the perfect princess; even your mother knew of your beauty just when you had been born. Society has a way of showing where one's lot in life is meant to be. While I am not as pretty as you, my looks were an early sign that I was meant to rule, and Snow White, my dear Snow White, you are even more pretty than me."
Snow White pondered what her stepmother said; if even her mother, her original mother, had seen her beauty, maybe there was something to what her stepmother had said. The people in the castle, the people she had met outside of it, always complimented her beauty, but she had always been too shy, too modest to accept that she actually was that pretty, but maybe, just maybe, she was.
After they were done resting, the pair started to walk again, and Snow White noticed a gardener, a new one she had not seen before, working on a hedge near the center of the garden. That had always been her favorite one; the way the flowers bloomed on it in the spring was always one of her favorite sights, so she walked up to him, however she did not know his name.
"Gardener," she began, causing him to turn around. "Gardener, I love that hedge; when it blooms in the spring, I always feel joy when I see it. Can you make sure you are careful with it?"
The gardener smiled and nodded his head. "Very well princess, I will make sure this hedge is fine."
"Thank you." Snow White answered back, then walked back to her stepmother before continuing their walk.
The queen smiled and looked at Snow White, deciding to make this a small lesson too. "See Snow White," she began. "You gave him a quick order, and he understood to obey it. I imagine you feel better knowing that hedge will be fine."
Snow White nodded her head; it was a good thing that the hedge would be fine, and the gardener had done a good job listening to her.
==================
The following morning, Snow White woke up, and for a moment she was confused because she was in an unfamiliar room; then she remembered. She had finally been moved into a new room, one more fitting for a princess than the small room she had been in before, when she had been treated more like a prisoner.
She started to get ready for the day with the help of Rose. As she was getting ready, she looked at Rose, who must have been named after the flower, and wondered why that was. Her stepmother had compared her lips to a rose, so Snow White looked at Rose's lips, and they were red, a vibrant shade of it, but Snow White's were closer to a rose, and much more red. She could not figure out why Rose was named that, and did not let it bother her. Once Rose was done, Snow White went to have breakfast with the queen.
After breakfast, Snow White was led by her stepmother to the Royal Tailor to get fitted for the dress he had been designing for her. She had been looking forward to seeing the progress on her first royal dress.
The queen entered first, followed quickly by Snow White. "Tailor," Grimhilde began her voice steady, "show us your progress." The tailor stood up and went to grab the dress. He pulled it out of the back room and showed it to Snow White.
It was as pretty as Snow White had been hoping; the white would look great with her fair skin; the green and brown flowers popped off the dress and really drew your eyes to them. Snow White could not wait to wear this dress.
"It looks wonderful," Snow White exclaimed, being handed it so she could look at it more closely. She had purposefully chosen a stronger word than great so that her stepmother would know that she really did like it, and was not just being nice saying it like she had done before.
She then pulled it in front of her and tried to imagine what it would look like on her; she twirled, holding the dress and as she did so, she noticed something a bit wrong. Grimhilde caught Snow White's momentary moment of worry and was about to speak up, but Snow White did so first. "Um, I do not mean to be pushy, but is this dress going to fit me?" Snow White then showed how the dress would be a bit tight around her chest and waist areas.
The tailor lightly chuckled then pulled out a piece of string. "That is because I have not measured you yet. "I need to get your measurements first, then I will be able to ensure the dress is fit perfectly for you."
"Ah," Snow White exclaimed, then handed back the dress to the Royal Tailor. "That makes a lot of sense, thank you."
The Royal Tailor then proceeded to take Snow White's measurements, and once he was done, he told her that the dress would be complete in two days.
"Thank you." Snow White said, then her and her stepmother left the tailor. Behind her, Grimhilde smiled, first a bit of a sinister one, which Snow White did not see, then a warmer smile she put on when she started to speak to Snow White.
"I notice that you took the initiative there, Snow White." She began. "You realized there was a problem with the dress, and you spoke up to make sure it was correct. Now, you did speak before knowing all the information, but it was better to speak up now, wouldn't you agree?"
Snow White pondered for a moment, then smiled. "Yes, speaking up now was the correct thing to do, even if there was not an issue. Imagine if there was." Snow White thought for a moment, imagining trying to put on a dress that did not fit. "The dress could have been the wrong size; then you would have gotten angry and may have fired him. It was better for me to speak out now. To ensure there were no issues."
"I am glad to see you are finally settling into your place, Snow White." Grimhilde then put her hand on Snow White's shoulder.
"Thank you stepmother." Snow White answered back, grabbing Grimhilde's hand with her own.
========================
A few days later, the dress had been completed, and when Snow White first put it on, with her stepmother watching, she loved it. She twirled around with it, causing the bottom to flare out a little, just as she had imagined it would. Grimhilde looked at her with a happy expression; she seemed almost as happy as Snow White had been with the dress.
"Do you like it, princess?" The Royal Tailor asked.
"Yes," Snow White answered. "It is a fantastic dress." She then twirled around again. She finally had a dress to call her own. All those years, she had been hand-me-down clothes by various members of the staff, some by her own stepmother, but this, this was different; this was a royal dress, one that looked good on her. "I cannot wait to have more like it."
The Royal Tailor beamed with pride. "I look forward to making more dresses for you."
After they left the tailor's room, Grimhilde asked Snow White where she would want to go first with the dress, and there was only one answer for Snow White: the garden.
The pair soon were in the garden and talking, laughing, and enjoying themselves while a pair of servants followed behind ready to serve if need be. After a small little joke that had made Snow White chuckle, she looked ahead and stopped in her tracks, her laughing stopping instantaneously.
Grimhilde stopped and looked at Snow White. Her face had gone pale, and she looked like she was in shock. Grimhilde followed Snow White's eyes and found what Snow White was looking at. The hedge that Snow White had said was her favorite had been cut, quite clumsily at that it looked like. The top had been taken off, and it had lost nearly two thirds of its girth.
Snow White's eyes were bugging out, and she seemed speechless. She had no idea what to even say; she had not expected to see this.
Seeing Snow White's reaction, Grimhilde called one of the servants that had been following them, one that had been with them the last time they had gone through the garden, and ordered him to bring the gardener who had spoken to Snow White on that day before them.
As they waited, Snow White started to speak, beside herself in emotions. "That was my favorite hedge. I had looked at it throughout all my life. Every spring, it was there, blooming with flowers." Grimhilde walked beside Snow White and started to stroke her hair. "I had told him specifically not to mess with that hedge, that one in particular."
"I know, I know," Grimhilde answered back, softly and calmly.
"How could he?" Snow White asked, her voice distanced and soft.
"I know, it is unacceptable." Grimhilde answered back with the same calm, soft voice while she continued to stroke Snow White's hair.
Eventually, the servant returned, and the gardener was next to her. He looked a little frazzled, but otherwise, not that bothered by what was going on.
"Is something the matter? Gert here," the gardener mentioning the servant's name, "says that something has happened to one of the hedges." He smiled, still not seeming to understand what he had done.
"Something?" Snow White asked, her voice gaining volume. "Just something?!" She was on the verge of screaming. "Look at this hedge; it has been ruined!"
The gardener looked and saw which specific hedge she was pointing at, and he gave off a light, nervous chuckle. "Oh yeah, sorry about that." He seemed to try to remember what happened then explained what happened. "I was working on that hedge, and I slipped up yesterday. Man, it looked absolutely horrible when I did so, like a giant slash right across the middle of it. It was quite ugly. Well, I did what I could to make it look good again, sorry princess."
Snow White could not believe this; this gardener, this commoner, had ruined her favorite hedge, and he seemed so casual about it. Didn't he realize that he should be striving to be better, to be the best? He was working in the castle, working for the princess and the queen, and he had messed up something she had specifically told him not to.
"Sorry?" She asked, looking at the gardener, her voice trembling. "You are sorry?" Snow White clinched her fist again. Meanwhile, next to her, Grimhilde watched in silence; she would step in if needed, but so far, it had not been necessary. "I told you to be careful with this one specifically, and you couldn't." Snow White could feel her fist squeezing in upon itself, but she could not stop it; she needed some outlet for her anger; then she looked at the gardener again and found it.
Snow White closed her eyes and thought of everything her stepmother, the queen, had told her, how everyone had their destiny; the Royal Chef had always meant to be the Royal Chef, her stepmother had always meant to be a queen, how she herself was always meant to be a princess, then there was this gardener. He had just started; Snow White had never even seen him before their meeting a few days ago; he thought he was supposed to be a gardener. If she was not so angry, she would have laughed at the idea. No, he was not meant to be a gardener, and she was going to make sure he knew that.
Snow White closed her eyes, and when she opened them, the servants that had accompanied them gasped. They recognized the glare she was giving the gardener, but they had never seen it come from her before; no, it was the glare the queen gave when she was furious.
"You are fired." Snow White told the gardener, who finally realized the situation he was in. His grin faded off his face as the realization settled in.
"Fired?" He asked back?
Snow White only lightly chuckled in response before looking away from the gardener. "Yes, fired, now, be gone."
The gardener did not leave; instead, he started to beg, "no princess, please, I am sorry, I did not mean to anger you so. I will never make a mistake like that again."
Snow White looked away from the gardener, a small grin forming on her face. "A mistake like that again? So, you admit you will make more mistakes. Well, I do not want a gardener who will make mistakes. You don't even deserve to have me look at you." Snow White then looked away from him, then to the servants that accompanied her and her stepmother. "Take him away from my sight."
The servants went into action, not wanting to anger Snow White, not knowing how she would react, and grabbed the gardener, whom they dragged away, him still begging for forgiveness.
Once they could no longer hear him, Snow White looked over to her stepmother. "I'm sorry I doubted what you had told me. I see now that you are right. Some people just are not worth working in this castle for us."
"I'm sorry you had to lose your favorite hedge to learn this Snow White." Grimhilde answered back.
"Well, what else do you expect from commoners?" Snow White muttered under her breath.
======================
In the days that followed the gardener's firing, Snow White's attitude and the attitude of those around her changed in accordance.
Before her stepmother had approached her, hoping to reconnect, Snow White had been a loved, approachable princess; now, she gave off an aura that she was better than others. This began every day as she woke up. Rose, her handmaiden, had not noticed it at first, but at some point, Snow White had stopped calling her by her name. She did not even notice it happen; just somewhere along the line, she had become just handmaiden to her.
Rose could also tell that Snow White was not as interested in conversing with her anymore. When Rose had become Snow White's handmaiden, Snow White and her would talk while Snow White was being dressed, but now, Snow White seemed to ponder more while they were together, keeping her thoughts to herself. This included when Rose would tell Snow White she was done. At first, Snow White would give her a thank you for the work done, but even that at some point disappeared.
The attitude changes continued to be noticeable during breakfast. Snow White had started to gain a bit of a reputation amongst the cooking staff as a picky eater. On this morning, she was sitting there, enjoying her breakfast, when Grimhilde could tell that something was bothering her.
"What is wrong Snow White?" She asked, sounding concerned.
"Where is my tart? I want my strawberry tart." Snow White answered back, her voice taking on a bit of a whiny inflection.
Queen Grimhilde looked over at the servant waiting. "Go to the back and ensure the tart is ready." She ordered, her voice stern.
"Yes, my queen." The servant answered back, then left.
"It should be here soon, Snow White." Grimhilde answered back, smiling.
Later in the day, as Snow White was walking down the grand staircase in the main foyer of the castle, a maid was dusting the banister. "Good morning princess," the maid said, smiling at her.
Snow White looked at the maid, saw the duster in her hand, and nodded, not changing her default expression. "Make sure you do not leave any dust." She answered back, then went on her way.
Moments like this happened all around the castle and its grounds causing the servants of the castle to slowly change their way of handling Snow White, from one of friendliness, to one of loyalty, since she demanded it just as much as the queen.
Meanwhile, Grimhilde watched this all with satisfaction; her plan was complete; she had changed Snow White, and now, now it was time to get her reward for all that work.
=============================
Satisfied, Queen Grimhilde made her way back to the hidden chamber where the Magic Mirror hung on the wall. She had been with Snow White for so long, and had enjoyed molding her so much, that at times, she even forgot why she had been doing this, but no, now it was time for her to accept her victory. She walked up to the mirror and said the words she had said so many times before.
"Mirror, Mirror on the wall. Who is the fairest one of all?" She asked, knowing the answer would be her again.
"Oh Queen, you’ve worked to darken Snow White’s heart, but still, her beauty sets her far apart." The queen froze at the mirror's words.
She had plotted to make Snow White's heart just as black as hers. It was her heart that had set the pair apart after all, that was why she had become the fairest, not because of any other reason, right?
The queen grabbed her head again, feeling that headache that had formed before forming again. Snow White had turned just as dark as her and still was fairer; it was not fair; it was not fair. The queen fell to her knees and started to think. It just was not fair.
While agonizing over her loss of being the fairest in all the land, a new thought entered her mind, a new way to get even with Snow White, or was it even getting even anymore? The queen did not know, but she knew what she wanted to do.
The next day, after breakfast, the queen and Snow White were talking. "Snow White," the queen began, "I have a surprise I want to show you. Can you come with me?"
"Oh yes, mother, I would love to." Snow White answered back.
Queen Grimhilde then led Snow White to a part of the castle she had never been to before. There, in a hidden chamber, Snow White saw a giant mirror hanging on a wall.
"This," Grimhilde, "is the Magic Mirror. Your father showed me it before he died. He said it had the power to tell you if you were the fairest person in the kingdom. He told me that your mother was at one point that, and this mirror, it has told me numerous times that I was, but, Snow White, I want you to do me a favor." Queen Grimhilde smiled, a slightly sinister smile that Snow White smiled back at. "Can you go up and ask it who the fairest of them all are?"
Queen Grimhilde then told Snow White what to ask the mirror, and then Snow White walked up to it. She turned around and looked at Grimhilde, who smiled back at her, motioning her to do it.
"Mirror, mirror on the wall," Snow White began, "who is the fairest one of all?"
Suddenly, a face appeared in the mirror, which caused Snow White to flinch, but she stayed there, curious about its answer.
"Ah, Snow White," it began. "Your lips are as red as a rose, your hair as black as ebony, and your skin as white as snow. You are the fairest of them all."
Snow White heard this and felt pride swell within her. She had been told she was the most beautiful woman in the country before, but here, here was proof of it. She turned away from the mirror and then walked over to her mother, a big grin on her face. "I think I always knew that I was the most beautiful. It is nice to have it confirmed."
Grimhilde smiled back at her, admiring the elitism that had grown so strongly in Snow White. She also knew that she had just cursed Snow White. Someday, someone will come along more fair than even her, and then, then Snow White will face the same jealousy and feelings of doubt that she had faced.
Snow White left the room with Grimhilde promising to come soon after. Grimhilde closed the curtains to cover the Magic Mirror then started to leave. She wondered if she would be around to see Snow White fall to the same emotions she had fallen to, and how she would react to them.
The Queen paused, her thoughts drifting to the progress she had made with Snow White. "Until then, I will continue to enjoy shaping her, molding her into someone who shares my beliefs and values. After all, she is even starting to grow on me now."