Ringing bells echoed through the city. The doors of the cathedral burst open and the bride and groom exited into a storm of flower petals. The entire city was gathered on the steps, with the exception of the rich and the noble, who waited indoors until the couple left. The marriage of a prince was a momentous occasion.
The prince, tall, blond, and handsome, gently clasped his young bride to his side. She was small and thin, with ebony hair that contrasted sharply with her ice-pale skin. She clung to the prince desperately, as though he were all that kept her safe. And yet she smiled as though overjoyed, reflecting the faces of everyone around her.
Mirror, hanging on the wall, tell me, who is the fairest of all?
"Would you like to come hunting with me, child?"
Snowdrop grinned in delight. Here he was, Tobias, asking her to come with him on a hunting trip! She had admired him for months and months, waiting for a chance to talk to him. And now, here it was! Perhaps a miracle would happen, and he would confess his true love for her, and even though she was only twelve they could marry and live happily ever after…
"Of course I would! Let me get my riding clothes!" she bubbled, dashing off to change quickly.
The woods were dark and frightening, far more so than they had appeared from the manor. Snowdrop's pony had trouble keeping up with Tobias's gelding; she had grown too large, but her father had yet to buy her a mare of her own. Luckily, it wasn't long before Tobias motioned at her to halt.
"See there?" he whispered, pointing to a low-hanging branch about twenty yards away. "That bird? I can take it down."
Snowdrop watched excitedly as Tobias aimed his bow and fired, killing the bird instantly. He was so talented! Then she heard a frantic chirping, and noticed the chicks in the nest where the bird had been.
"Oh, the poor things!" she exclaimed, and, dismounting, ran over to look at the birds.
Hardly had she managed to climb up the branch when she heard a choked sob behind her. She looked back at Tobias and saw that his loaded bow was aimed directly at her.
"What are you doing?" she asked, panicked.
Tobias lowered his bow. "I cannot," he said, and sobbed again. "I cannot kill a child so innocent."
"Kill me? What are you talking about, Tobias?" It was the first time she had addressed him by his name, but it did not taste so sweet in her mouth as she had imagined.
"My lady, your stepmother, ordered me to kill you and bring your heart to her," he confessed. "She is jealous of your beauty and wishes to be the most beautiful of all. She will kill to maintain this title."
Snowdrop began crying softly sometime during his confession, and he reached out to comfort her. She pushed him away.
"What will you do instead?" she asked. "You cannot bring me home, else Stepmother will find another way to kill me."
"Where will you go?" he asked.
"Leave me here. I will find a place."
"I cannot leave you unprotected."
"I am safer alone than with you. You would have killed me."
Tobias winced at her words. "I shall find a boar and kill it, and bring her that heart instead. Go. I have heard rumors that there are kind people in this wood. Go east. That way, at least, leads to the neighboring kingdom."
Snowdrop nodded. "Leave me," she said softly.
He did, and she sat, sobbing softly, in the dark and frightening woods.
The great dining hall was filled with people milling about trying to find their assigned seats. Months of planning had been put into arranging everyone perfectly, so that no one sat beside one of lesser rank, one with whom they were feuding, or one of differing political beliefs. This, however, resulted in a great deal of confusion for the guests, who searched for their evasive names while fending off the crowds.
Snowdrop and her prince, meanwhile, had no trouble finding their places. They were seated in the center of the high table, in tall-backed chairs, on a dais in the very front of the room. Above them the setting sun shone through the exquisite rose window, making Snowdrop's white gown a dappled canvas of reds, blues, and greens.
Her prince smiled down at her. He was nearly a foot taller, and at least fifteen years older. Still, he loved her, as he had since the day he had found her lying as dead in a crystal box in the wood. Yes, she was lovely, and virtuous, kind, wise, and quiet, but he wondered, sometimes, what saddened her so. He trusted she would tell him when she was ready. Even now her eyes frantically scanned the crowd as though searching for someone. He wondered who.
At last everyone seated themselves. The band of minstrels began to play, and everyone fell silent as the castle bard related the tale of how the prince had met his bride. The tale, of course, had been abridged because the prince did not know half of the story, and Snowdrop had refused to provide it. So a song was sung of a cursed beauty, awoken by a kiss while a group of happy dwarves looked on. It ended with love and happiness until the end of their days.
Perhaps I am safe here, Snowdrop thought. How could she touch me, with all these people around?
Fair art thou, my queen, but another lives who is fairer than thee.
Snowdrop glanced out the window and sighed. The dwarves had been so kind to her, and she was saddened to see them go. But in the past few weeks they had remained home with her, and she saw how cabin fever chafed at them. So today she had sent them out, telling them she would be on the watch for the evil lady of the manor.
"Combs! Beautiful combs for a beautiful girl!" called a voice. Snowdrop looked up to see a middle-aged woman with the look of a farmer's wife coming towards the little house.
"Buy a comb off a poor woman, dear?" the woman asked as she approached.
"I would dearly like to, for they are quite beautiful," Snowdrop replied, admiring the woman's wares. "But I have no money."
"All very well, love. For a beauty such as yourself, they are free. Take your pick, lassie, and when all the boys want to dance with you, remember the kind woman who gave them to you, eh?"
Excitedly, Snowdrop looked into the basket, at last selecting a whalebone comb carved with a snowdrop, the flower for which she was named.
"This is perfect!" she said. "You know, my name is Snowdrop, so this comb is made for me!"
"Well, love, give it a try. It'll look lovely against those dark curls of yours," the woman urged.
Snowdrop fastened the comb in her hair, only to feel a burning in her scalp and an intense pressure in her head which caused her to faint.
She awakened later to see the worried faces of the dwarves around her.
"What happened?" they all asked simultaneously. "Are you all right?" the dwarves asked her.
"I think so, now," she said breathlessly. "A woman came around selling combs. She gave me one and told me to try it on, but when I did I must have swooned."
One of the dwarves was carefully inspecting the comb. "Aye, it's poisoned. That lady must have been an agent of your stepmother, or your stepmother herself in disguise. You're lucky we found you when we did, or you might have died."
Snowdrop shook her head. "I was so foolish to trust her. I apologize."
"Don't do anything like this again, and all will be well," the dwarves told her. "If she could fool you once, she could do it again. Perhaps one of us should stay with you tomorrow."
But Snowdrop saw their dismayed looks, however they tried to hide them, and shook her head. "No, go out and work. I shall not allow myself to be so easily tricked again."
Two golden plates were brought by a serving girl and placed before the prince and his bride. As was fitting, they were served first, and were to eat first. Still, they waited until everyone had their meals.
"Each must take a bite off the other's plate, to symbolize that all between husband and wife belongs to both," a voice announced.
Obediently, Snowdrop cut a piece of meat from the prince's plate, as he did with hers. Simultaneously, they put the food in their mouths.
The hall echoed with applause for the married couple, but ceased abruptly when the bride turned frantically to the prince.
"Love? Husband, are you well?" she asked. The prince seemed to have choked, and his face was turning purple. "Help him, please!" the girl cried out frantically.
By the time help reached the prince, he had taken his last breath.
Over the hill, where the seven dwarves dwell, Snowdrop lives still, and she is fairer by far than thee.
"Goodness, child, how poorly you're laced up," the old woman exclaimed. "If you keep them like that, you'll lose your figure, and then where will you be?"
Snowdrop, who was quite proud of her small, but decidedly present, breasts, allowed the woman to re-lace her corset. Surely such a kind woman could mean her no harm. She cared that Snowdrop maintain her beauty; she had no wish to kill Snowdrop because of it. And yet she was pulling the laces awfully tight. Snowdrop tried to ask her to stop and loosen them, but she found she had no breath…
She woke again to see the dwarves clustered around her. One held a knife and the remains of her stays in his hand.
"Foolish child!" he chided. "Didn't we tell you not to let anyone in?"
"She was worried I would lose my beauty," Snowdrop explained. "I thought surely she did not want to kill me for it."
"You are lucky we returned so early," another said solemnly. "Tomorrow one of us will stay with you."
"No," Snowdrop said firmly. "I know being home bothers you. Go. Tomorrow I will talk to no one, no matter how far above suspicion they may seem."
The dining hall was in an uproar. To see the prince slain on his own wedding day, how cruel! No one deserved that, although there were whispers of what the prince got up to in his spare time. Not a single guest believed Snowdrop was the first young woman he'd be taking to his bed, that was for sure.
Still, the stricken look on the bride's face was enough to break anyone's heart. Although she had let out no sound since her cry for help, silent tears fell down her cheeks.
On the dais, a physician consulted with the king. "They were quite clever, to poison the princess's plate instead of the prince's. Whoever did this is quite well versed in our customs. Can you think of anyone who would want to kill the prince?"
Snowdrop could not help overhearing, and she went over to offer her opinion.
"It was not the prince they tried to poison," she whispered. "It was me. She did not know he would eat from my plate, because she does not know your customs."
"You know who the assassin is?" the physician asked.
"She is my stepmother. She has attempted four times on my life- tonight is the fifth. She is jealous of my beauty."
The two of them listened, fascinated, as Snowdrop related her tale. Guards were ushering the guests out of the hall and trying to keep nosy criers at bay.
"How will we know this woman?" the king asked at last.
"You cannot. She disguises herself too well. She has been married to my father since I was an infant, and yet she tricked me three times with her disguises."
"Then there is nothing we can do."
"She will reveal herself at some time. She knows now she has failed, and she will undoubtedly make another attempt soon."
"How will you know?"
Tears gathered in Snowdrop's eyes. "I will not. I have never before known. I can trust no one."
"No one at all?"
"Unless I can return to the dwarves. I trust them, but I fear such a thing would be impossible."
The king nodded. "We will keep a guard on you at all times- handpicked men I know personally. I will know if they are different."
"I thank you, Your Majesty," Snowdrop said. "But I do not think it will be enough. Please, if I may retire."
The king waved his hand in dismissal, and she curtseyed and left.
The prince's bride in his far-off palace is far more beautiful than thee.
Snowdrop gazed out the window again. Nearly four months had passed, and her stepmother had not tried to kill her. Although she was grateful for her life, intense boredom had set in. She could only clean so much, and with fall coming there was nothing she could plant in a garden. So mostly she sat and gazed out the window, watching birds, squirrels, rabbits, and the occasional deer walk by. She longed to go out, but her safety was not assured outside of the cottage.
She rose to relieve herself, and when she returned an apple sat on the windowsill. She knew it hadn't been there before, but perhaps she had overlooked it. Surely the dwarves had left it for her as a gift. She picked it up. It was round and red and ripe, the small sweet kind she loved. She took it in her hands and took a big, unladylike bite. Her stepmother would have scolded her for it, she thought.
Everything went dark.
Snowdrop gazed at herself in the mirror at her vanity table. Although her face was red and swollen with tears, she was undoubtedly beautiful. Her lips were still red as fresh-drawn blood; her skin, where not blotchy, white as snow. Her figure had decidedly grown a bit since the incident with her corset.
But vain as she was, she knew her beauty had almost cost her her life five times, and had cost her husband his. This could not go on.
She opened the drawer beneath the table. Within was a lacquered box, and when she opened it a jeweled dagger glittered on the silk lining. She pulled it out and looked at it, then poised it over her breast.
She could not plunge it in. She had fought too hard to live, cheated death to many times to die now. She was about to lay it on the table when a thought occurred to her.
She took the knife and cut a single line from the center of her eyebrow down to the corner of her mouth. Not a deep cut, but it would leave a scar. She put a twin one down the left side of her face. Her soft gasp of pain was the only sign she felt any.
She took the knife to her hair next, slicing it off in uneven clumps. That ebony-dark hair was decidedly part of her beauty. With it gone she looked like nothing but a waif, although it was hard to tell through the blood in her eyes.
"There," she whispered. "There, Stepmother. You have your wish."
Thou, o my queen, art fairest of them all.