She knows what they say about her; that her beauty hides her cruelty, that she is vindictive and spiteful, and cannot stand to hear the truth. They say that she is jealous, of a girl, a child really, with skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood, and hair as black as night.
They are fools.
It is not jealousy, not really, that prompts her actions. After all, she is (was) the fairest in the land, and once people whispered the same comments about her stepmother.
But this was when she was nothing more than a child, a child as beautiful as the one they all admire now. The difference, of course, is that her stepmother had not protected her.
Oh, they look on her with disfavor, shoving the girl to the side, putting her in rags, keeping her out of the public eye. Such a sweet and innocent girl, they say; a pity about her horrid stepmother.
What they don't understand is that beautiful girls don't stay innocent for long. She certainly hadn't.
And yet, there may be some truth to what they say. The mirror (the one she stole from her stepmother) stares at her as she pulls the comb through hair that is no longer quite as black as night.
Mirror Mirror on the wall
Older, yes, and a bit faded, but still beautiful. Just not quite beautiful enough. It has its own mind, and sentience, and if people think she is vain, she is nothing compared to the mirror. It only wants the best and, as it tells her daily, she is no longer makes the cut.
She turns from it, her stolen treasure (curse) and summons the huntsman. He won't kill the girl, she knows, but he'll help her leave this place, and the eyes of the mirror. She watches her reflection as she eats the heart.
Who's the fairest of them all
When the mirror shows the girl alive and well, she knows that it's almost too late. Her reflection smiles cruelly as the huntsman dies for his lies, but he's listened to all the rumors and sees no difference between them.
Not you, not anymore
The apple shines brightly, beautifully (how could it be anything less, when it came from the mirror?) as the girl (woman, now) bites into it. She falls and lays still, a lovely statue encased under mirrored glass. When she wakes, the Queen knows, her reign will be over.
I only reflect the most beautiful, the fairest
It is not such a bad way to die, she thinks. She failed to protect the girl, yes, but the woman who stands before her now, the one who takes the mirror and walks away, leaving only an impression of snow, blood, and darkness, well, she is no one the Queen would wish to protect anyway; too much like the Queen herself, in the end.
I have a new mistress now