I woke up in the tower again, just like I have for countless days… weeks… months…
The magical prison affords me every convenience, except my freedom. I'm not sure if I deserve this punishment, there had been claims that I have violated some law of the land I supposedly rule. But what is wrong with a queen defending what is hers?
I can't remember being brought here. I just woke up one morning, confined to three rooms. There are two barred window that afford me a view of the surrounding lands. There is nothing for miles.
I said it was a magical tower. Everything I need and want is provided for me. There are always clean clothes in the bureau and food appears twice a day on my table. I have books and knitting, cards and dice.
But most importantly, I have cosmetics. Just because I am alone doesn't mean I shouldn't look my best. I have a reputation after all: I am the fairest in the land, the mirror finally speaks in my favor. I adore the blood red lip color and coal black hair frames my pale face. Not seeing the sun for weeks… months? Years? has made my skin white as snow. Gazing into my magic mirror, I see a porcelain doll looking back at me.
I am relieved the mirror is here in my rooms. I feared my husband would take back the wedding gift. The beautiful, gilt frame surrounds a looking glass that speaks to the person looking in to it.
Mirror mirror…
I am finally the fairest in the land, and I must look beautiful for the day when my husband comes to release me. I must look perfect for him, I have a reputation after all. My make up must be perfect. My clothing fit for a queen.
I start in on brushing out my hair. It has grown long during my confinement. It is the truth mark of how long I have been here. It falls in rivers – not waves – around me. A coal-black river that must be brushed out every day.
I used to have servants to do this for me. But before that, once upon a very long time ago, I was the servant brushing the hair of my step sister…