Motive of an Apple
the story behind the queen
That girl had been taken care of, done, finished, no more, she was just gone. And all the woman had needed to do was tell the huntsman to do it. Yes, of course he had resisted, but she was queen. Her word was law.
He had been scared, yes, but then again, few were not. Not even the dunce of a husband. Was that a good thing? The Queen stopped in her tracks, had she really become that which she had hated? Nonsense, of course not, the Queen continued to walk on, the hesitation gone in an intense. Gone in the blink of an eye.
She continued to storm down the hall, reaching her prized possession. Few other valuables even came close, sure there was the secret cove and the raven but this? This was something special. A small near innocent smile blossomed on her face. Near innocent, she was too far gone for innocent, for benign.
The sight was due to the childish joy she finds in the mirror. Every day she gazes upon it, waiting for an answer. She always knew the answer, no matter. Or, she had thought she had known the answer. One day, surprisingly sudden, the mirror changed. It was no longer her but that girl. To think, the child more pretty then she? Ha. Ha! It wasn't true, was it? Twaddle, it most certainly is not. I, as Queen, am not one to be insecure. It's unbecoming! If I were insecure would I even be queen? Poppycock! Of course not.
This was not a rare battle for the much-hated Queen. They were common within the sanctities of her mind. She was constantly reassuring herself that she was honestly beautiful. After all, what else did she have?
And, yes, she did know she was hated. She had heard of the late Queen, of her beauty. How else to create the child? (After that comment, though secure in her head, she was due for some self-mental berating). She had heard of her kindness, of her modesty, and benevolence. How else would the country love her? Of her piety. Praying for her child endlessly. Of her self-sacrifice. The child took her life, did she not? Of her ignorance. Ignoring a pricked finger to plead for the child, imagine. She was supposed to replace the good Queen?
She was, after all, the evil stepmother. She had grown up with the stories, twisted by the author's words; she had learned to hate the stepmother. Inside, deep and dark, a small part of her, the part that was never to be shared with friends nor sisters nor her own mother, a small part of her adored the figure. Aspired to be one. They were always beautiful and powerful and glamorous, they were gorgeous in design. But no liked them, and no one liked her. Few ever had, and most had been various men looking for her favors.
Lost in her thoughts she passed her mirror, it called out to her. "Dear Queen, young ,gaze upon your reflection…" Heavens above, was that real? Did the mirror talk, or was it merely another hypnotic delusion? Did her need for the mirror break into her inner self and call out to her?
In either case, not that it much mattered which, they both had the same consequence, and the Queen turned around and faced the mirror. She gave a blank glance for several minutes, lost in deep reflection to be known only to her. Remembering from whence the cursed and spellbinding mirror came from, perhaps.
In the dim light of the corridor, the true age of the Queen showed. She had distant, faded crow's feet around her eyes and faint ridges on her brow. Unfortunately, these were not from her joy and smiles but from frowns, smirks, and grimaces (on rare occasions). Despite these wrinkles, the Queen showed that she was young still. Was it the heavy weights of ruling? Unlikely. It was to be attributed by her bitter and aged ways, her personality and tendencies. A tragedy in either case.
Until a small groan from the mirror stirred her out of her reverie. She snapped up at beck and call, and called out her mantra, the one she would be known for…
"Mirror, mirror, on my wall: who's the fairest of them all?" She looked, expectantly. Those words to come, the ones naming her the most beautiful, those would be worth the death of Snow White. They would pay the price of the heart in the simple wooden box currently residing in her vanity drawer, deep under robes and undergarments, hidden from view-- and from the wondering thoughts.
Where the response, that glorious response, should've been there was nothing. A bloated silence filled the air, settling down around the Queen. She continued to gaze into the mirror, hoping for a glance of the face. The face that would say her name, how long had it been since she heard it?
Pillars of smoke came rising up in the mirror filling the view. When the smoke died down, the emotionless and opaque face stood, floated rather, but unlike the usual happenings, the face was floating in front of what looked to be a garden.
It looked familiar to the Queen, but she couldn't place it. It was bright and sunlit. There were flowers that she seemed to recall. There were daisies, the bright white and pure yellow reflected the sunlight and further illuminated the garden, but the queen could tell they were painfully dying, wilting away. The hyacinths, they were bending in the breeze and the flittered throughout the garden, on the borders, adding touches of yellow and purple coloring. King's-spears was always one of her favorites, it was complex in design. Simple golden pedals were climbing up the tall base, which looked to be buds themselves. These flowers, they all had meanings, what were they?
"Daisy: loyal love and purity. The purple hyacinth is sorrow and the yellow is jealousy. The king's spear means regret." Yes, that was true. But who said it? The mirror? It wasn't the voice of the face it was a new sound. It was new but there was something… something memorable about it. Something she knew. But from where? "Your childhood." Yes, it was right, again. But who belonged to the voice?
"Why, can't you remember the voices of your childhood?" She gazed at the child standing before her, in the mirror. I know her I know I know her. I just can't… it's just been so long.
"Of course, I wouldn't be surprised." The voice got remorseful "You've changed so much since we knew each other"
"I have?"
The voice gave a humorless laugh: dry and sorrowed. "Of course. Why, look at you!"
"… What do you mean?"
From the sad tone, the child went to a bitter and angry one. "You've become what you once hated. I remember. How you cringed when you read of a devious stepmother? Hurting her charge? Look at you!"
"What are you talking about?!" The Queen grew frantic, disoriented in the thought that this mere child knew of her… misgivings, of her sins.
"You've changed, that's for sure. Of course there is the fact that you are talking to a mirror in a dark hallway…" The Queen laughed, despite herself, strange how her own quirky sense of humor had found its way into another soul, much more, one of a child. Though, to be honest, she had made similar jokes at the most improper times in the court as a child.
"I'm disappointed that this is the future. This is where we shall end up." We? Future? How could the child be in the past and aware of who she was… "I wish that I hadn't become you." But that would mean…? "Apparently you've grown stupid as well. Yes, you dunce, I am you. This is you as a child. You've forgotten so much."
"Nonsense! I must certainly have not!"
"Would you look at yourself? No, not this mask, not this pretense you hold. Look at the real you, the one that exists in the cove." Again the Queen looked taken aback, "For the last time, I shall not explain it to you again, I am you. Thus, I know your secrets. Now, transform. Transform into the hideous, disgusting, nauseating creature I know you are."
"You speak harsh words to yourself, child, you should not be so hard upon yourself. And you yourself, why you have yet to see the pains I have gone through. Mine was not a happy childhood, and you know that quite well."
"Never would I have imagined doing such things. Well, apparently, I have. Now, will you be transforming into the hag yourself or will I need to make you?"
The Queen didn't quite know what to do, however, with the threat of an imminent transformation she assured that no wandering eye or unwelcome servant could see. Just in case. Of course, there was no way that a child could ever make her transform. Right?
"Or, dear Queen, are you simply ashamed? Is the form that disgusting? Are you that ugly?"
"I—I could never be ugly!"
"Prove it then." Maybe she would. "Show me you aren't ugly."
The Queen transformed, silently and unknowingly playing into the child's hand. Gone were the rich purple velvet robes, replaced with a drab brown smock. Her long silk hair, the gorgeous chestnut color disappeared, leaving in its stead a wiry and thin white mess of hair, tangled and misplaced. Her small button nose lengthened and the new nose had several cricks on its bridge. The dark alluring eyes morphed into dull lifeless ones. Her grace and the perfect posture she had worked so hard to keep was also gone; she now had a slight hunched back and crooked back. Her quiet lady like laugh, too, was gone. She now had a maniacal cackle, chilling to those who would hear it. Her elegance was gone.
"Not ugly. A little… worse for wear, but it came with great power."
The princess scoffed. By practice she was no princess, but since she was the child form of the queen the term seemed fitting. "Power? Is that all there is to life to you?"
"No. It's just what we wanted most." The "princess" cringed. "Oh, so you seem to remember as well." Crossing her arms, the Queen turned vindictive and bitter. The child had gotten on her nerves, and this one wouldn't be as easy to take care of. Not like Snow White. She spoke the truth, yes, but she also hid in the mirror. She couldn't simply do away with her. Especially if the girl was part of her, if she had finally gone mad with power.
"I remember how we once stood in the court, enviously gazing upon the royal family. How we wished to be among them. That is why we… 'will' I suppose, that's why we will marry far away. The riches, the orders, I adore it all. And if you are me, then I know that you do as well."
"That's such a horrible thing to say. Love, modesty, courage, these things are important. Power and riches and beauty will only last so long. You, hag, will soon whither away. The King will die and with him all remembrance of you. The people don't like you, they detest you in fact. Your beauty will fade and all that will remain is the mess of a being that stands before me now.
"Why bother pretending? Why don't you just introduce the real you to the rest of them now?" The lady-in-waiting then malevolently cackled, proving she was in fact the Queen.
"I see you yourself have traces of me. No matter how you deny it, girl, you will become me. I see it now. That laugh? Trust a witch when she tells you, that was not the laugh that belongs to a young girl, an innocent kindly girl. No, that laugh belongs to a witch, to a woman of power." She continued in a mocking tone, "Why don't you just introduce yourself, the real you I mean. Not the one you will pretend to be for several more years. Why, in fact, why don't you just admit even to yourself that this is what you want to be, that you look forward to it?"
"Never! This is not what I want. I- I will find my true love and we will be happy. I'll have my own happily ever after." Unsure of the reason, the Queen saw the child brake down. Tears glistened, unshed, in her eyes shown clearly despite the fact that they were standing far apart, repelled from each other by the screaming match. Perhaps because the dream every child grows up with, the wish of perpetual happiness and true love, maybe because it had just been obliterated that the child lost control.
"You naïve fool. There are no happy endings! I wanted a happy ending, I dreamt of it day after day. It didn't happen, which means it won't be happening for you. Every girl dreams of those happy endings, they aren't real, they only exist in stories. That girl I disposed of? She thought she'd get on, too. She sang into my well, wishing for one! No matter what prince you find, no matter your wealth or status, something will completely mess it up. Blemishes are the basis of life.
"I settled, I'll admit. I got on in years and I still hadn't found anyone." The Queen paused and composed herself, lowered her voice. "I didn't want to die alone. So I changed my dream, I changed my happily ever after. It may not be perfect, but it gives me what I really want." The twos ladies eyes now locked eyes, each shining with their tears.
"But why did you settle? You didn't have to, in fact you still don't have to. Change your ways, while there's time. Make it all right, while you still can. Take back that girl, before she's lost forever. You loose her and everything else you have will go with it." The poor child was now frantic, begging for a better life. She saw what awaited her and prayed it wouldn't always be this.
"What? The girl? The girl is taken care of. I- I have her heart! In a box, in my drawer."
"No, that's a boar heart. Even that dunce of a man saw the goodness inside of the Princess, and spared her life. I pray she finds a safe place in the forest, away from you.
" Queen, I'm pleading you… Change your ways. For both of us, give us a better life."
With that the princess faded into obscurity. The garden became brighter with her absence. The face began to reappear.
The Queen was lost in her thoughts. Shocked at what she had heard. Was the girl really still alive? Would she loose everything? Would her sin be discovered and her husband disown her? Would Snow White claim the power? Would she no longer be queen, be rich, be beautiful?
Soon, the garden too faded. Leaving in its place billows of smoke and a dark corner of someone's mind.
"What was that, Queen? What had you asked?" The voice, that which was supposed ti be monotone and reserved was now sarcastic and biting.
Taken aback at the voice, the Queen simply stared into the "eyes" of the mask. They were slits, really. Lifeless and dull.
"Mirror. Mirror. On my wall. Who's the fairest? Of them all?" Her tone was broken; she was broken.
"Lady Queen, though fair you be, still another lies best. Snow White, the near child, that which shall became bequest."
The Queen walked off, to decide what to do. Change her life and collect the girl, as had been told? Or finish the job, and ignored the warning? She walked off to discipline the huntsman.
She had made her decision long ago and there was no way to change it. And maybe the child could have her happily ever after, but it just wasn't going to be the Queen's.