Snowfall

By Jonathan King

The Queen lay awake long past midnight, tracing the lines on her face with her fingers. They were deeper than they had been yesterday. They turned to wrinkles and then to crevasses, stealing her youth and beauty.

The man sleeping beside her would say she was even more beautiful than the day he’d first seen her. But he had to say that; he was her husband. None of her subjects would tell her the truth either for fear of angering her.

There was only one she trusted.

She slipped out of bed, careful not to wake the King, and sat at her vanity table. It was dark wood, and makeup jars covered the surface as thoroughly as she used them to cover her face. But no amount of rouge or eyeshadow could hide the marks of age.

The Queen lit a candle and stared deep into the vanity’s mirror. Unlike the table, the mirror was pale and gilded in white gold so that it looked like a frozen lake. It was the only thing she’d kept from her predecessor. It had seemed harmless, and it was pretty. She liked pretty things.

The mirror’s surface was cloudy, refusing to reflect the world around it. But she’d learned the words to make it work. The words to make it tell her what she most needed to hear.

“Mirror, mirror on the wall,” she whispered, “who in this land is fairest of all?”

The mirror’s pale clouds began to stir and swirl. The Queen held her breath as they parted to let her look down like a goddess upon—

Not herself.

The Queen gasped. Her blood swirled through her veins like a snowstorm. So many times she’d asked this question, and every time, the mirror had shown her face, radiant and beautiful, as if to say, “You, o Queen, are the fairest.” It gave her the confidence to face the day, to rule her people, to sit at her husband’s side, knowing she was beautiful enough to deserve their love. She’d worked so hard to keep her beauty.

But this girl was more beautiful than she had ever been. A child on the verge of womanhood. Even though she was just a peasant, she had the bearing of a queen. Her midnight hair shimmered like a raven’s wing. She had the palest skin and the reddest lips the Queen had ever seen—even when the mirror showed her own reflection. And the girl’s eyes sparkled like a brook after a spring thaw, full of joy and innocence.

The Queen staggered to her feet, almost overturning her chair. No, this can’t be! I’m the fairest! Me! The mirror must be lying. I should have gotten rid of it like they all told me to.

But the mirror never lied. Hadn’t it told her for so long that she was the most beautiful woman in the land? Why would it change now?

This new face in the mirror terrified her. It told of her future—forgotten, unloved, cast aside as the people worshipped their new queen. Or worse, tortured and killed. She still remembered the queen before her. The old hag had been forced to wear hot iron shoes and dance until she fell down dead.

The Queen shuddered, almost feeling the flaming metal sear her own toes.

Something had to be done. This girl may be innocent now, but it was only a matter of time before she became a usurper, and then…

The Queen took a deep breath. She could deal with this. She was a queen, after all. And now that the mirror had revealed her enemy, she could remove that enemy. There was more than one way to be the fairest in the land… especially when the alternative was unthinkable.

The King stirred in bed. “Snow? Why are you still awake? Come back to bed.”

The Queen threw a panicked glance at the mirror, but it was cloudy again. She sighed in relief and pasted a smile on her face. “Coming, dear.”

She would speak to the dwarves in the morning, have them bring the girl to the castle. Even the fairest face could be… altered.

Queen Snow White smiled to herself and blew out the candle.

Can you guess which song from the 1980's inspired this story? Share in the comments!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jonathan King is a speculative fiction author currently working toward self-publishing his first novel about Celtic gods in modern day South Carolina. His short play “Therapy” received a Certificate of Merit from the Columbia Scholastic Press Association, and his short play “Cuckoo in the Nest” received an honorable mention in the 2015 Writer’s Digest Writing Competition. Jonathan loves peanut butter, superheroes, and anything combining the two.

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