Author's Note: I don't own Twilight or the fairytale of Snow White. I was inspired to do a darker version of Snow White after seeing the trailer for Mirror, Mirror. Then I saw the trailer for Snow White and the Huntsman, I could have cried at my dream coming true and the beauty of it all. Anyways, Snow White and the Huntsman definitely helped give me the inspiration needed to do this. I hope you all enjoy my little story.
Prologue: Rosalie
There was once a Dark Queen that ruled all of Denali, a great sorceress and as beautiful as the sun's rays in the coldest of winters. Her name was Queen Rosalie, married to the once beloved King Charles. Her purpose was to be the sole ruler of Denali, forever. Using dark magic she would retain her youthful looks and do just that. With the great King's untimely death she gained the position she so desparately yearned for.
The kingdom grieved at the loss of both their rightful King and Queen, all the while forgetting about their only daughter – Snow White. The rightful heir to the throne, daughter of King Charles and Queen Esme. If the youthful Queen Rosalie had one weakness it would be her – The Fairest of them All . . .
-o0o-
A clap of thunder sounded through the bathing chamber of the Queen's suite. Lightening streaked across the sky, beautiful and startling. The windows were open, rain drops flying on the wind into the warm room. A rustle of clothing and the soft jingle of jewelry disturbed the otherwise silent chamber.
Bare feet slowly padded across the stone floor, the soft light of the fire casting a golden glow over near translucent skin. Shimmering white material of a dressing gown billowed around the smooth shapely legs.
"Mirror, mirror on the wall. Who is fairest of them all?" The husky whispered tones of the Wicked Queen floated toward the large enchanted mirror.
The mirror shuddered and swirled before it flowed out onto the floor like molten silver. It stopped and gathered before the Queen, rising up and shaping into a hooded figure. "My Queen, you are the fairest . . . but there is another fairer than even you." The deep voice of the mirror spoke the dreaded words.
The Queen's lips twisted into a snarl, "What did you say?" She hissed, a hand coming up to grip the tie holding her gown together.
The hooded figure of the mirror chuckled deeply before speaking. "There is another destined to surpass you, my Queen." It told her simply in the same monotone drawl, remorse nowhere to be found in its words. "Fairer than you is she, the bringer of a new dawn."
Now seething with rage at the wench who dared to challenge her beauty the Queen looked to the fireplace. "Mirror, mirror on the wall. Tell me the name of whom is fairest of them all." She spat nastily, eyes blazing.
Bowing its head in submission, the figure began to melt once again into silver liquid; but not before answering the Queen's question. "Snow White is her name, the fairest of them all . . ." The Magic Mirror replied before falling silent again, an image of Snow White swirled into focus on the mirror – a vision of what was to come.
She was laughing, head thrown back in great amusement. Hair black as night, cascading down her back in luscious childlike curls with flowers woven through. Lips red as blood, pulled back over shining white teeth as the laughter bubbled up her throat. Skin as pale as snow contrasted lovely with the royal blue gown she wore. The child would be beautiful in time, more beautiful then she could ever imagine.
The fire exploded out of the fireplace, reaching as high as the ceiling. The Queen's face was a mask of fury for a few agonizing moments. A glass held in her hand shattered in the grip of long elegant fingers.
"How must I right this wrong?" The woman known to many as Queen Rosalie asked softly after composing herself, smoothing down her golden hair. Turning away from the mirror, quicksilver eyes darted around the room as she thought.
Snow White was still a child, if only an awkward, average looking one at the moment. The only thing about the child that stood out was her startling bright green eyes. Queen Rosalie smirked; she would turn her into nothing but a handmaid.
Surely the harshness of servitude would destroy whatever beauty would bloom. The Wicked Queen reasoned to herself, taking a seat in front of her Magic Mirror to comb her long hair. Yes, that was what she would do. They would see who was the fairest of them all, in the end.
Sensually toned legs crossed over the other, her dressing gown split down the middle, fanning open and putting them on display. Queen Rosalie tapped her long nails against her bare thigh, working a comb through her soft hair. "Alistair!" The Queen called, analyzing her face in the mirror's refection. Surely that was not a wrinkle upon her brow, of course not.
The beautiful doors of her chambers flew open; a tall, slender and dark-haired man strode into the room. He bowed gracefully and spoke, "My Queen, how may I be of service."
"Bring me . . . the King's daughter." Queen Rosalie demanded, her tone dismissing her servant to do as instructed. Her eyes stayed glued to her Magic Mirror, her fingers taking hold of her crown and setting it on her head.
