Queen Grimhilde came from her own land and had her own ways. When she had been crowned queen to the then sick (yet still alive) king, the entire kingdom had known that she was their true ruler. With their king wilting like a flower taken from the sun, they had to turn to others for aid. Their kingdom had no heir of age, and the king had been unlucky enough to have a very, very small family.
She liked the land of course; the people were good enough, always willing to acknowledge their place. Trade was improving, and more and more of the people freely praised her.
None questioned what she did in her dungeons; they had their own lives to look after.
A beautiful queen she was, and she would not deny it. Nor would Grimhilde deny the power that she held over others, or the way that she could control her subjects.
There were a select, small few who denied Grimhilde of her power. They spent their last breaths feeling it in her dungeons; their bodies still littered the walls and floor. She had enough political messes to deal with already; there was no point in cleaning up another.
No one in the land had any right to deny her of anything. She had saved their small kingdom, and the praise she desperately craved had to be given. Yes, she would talk to her mirror, but it was nice to hear it from villagers as well.
Still, there were still some who denied her requests. Some may not even have meant her ill will. And, sadly, the kingdom would notice if she went missing.
Grimhilde had never been close with Snow White. Ever since Grimhilde had arrived, she had been polite to the queen yet kept her distance. She smiled and waved to the queen when she walked, and the princess sat next to her at royal events. Still, there was a distance between them that Grimhilde had no way of crossing.
From her distance, she watched the girl. She was as beautiful as any princess in a fairy story, and just as careless and naive. When a prince had come with the intentions of wooing her, she had missed his innuendo.
The queen had sent him off as soon as she found out. Snow White had been saddened for a while, but then returned to normal.
When Grimhilde began her own courtship for the princess, she had made her intentions quite clear.
"No." The word flew off of the princess's apple red lips. "I apologize, your highness, but I cannot accept this. It is quite kind of you, and though I am flattered, I cannot accept."
Only a day later she had been stripped of her title and declared a servant.
Rags had a way of complimenting her. The princess had a beauty even Grimhilde lacked.
Queen Grimhilde had brooded alone; none of her royal staff had asked why. Her business was her own.
She called her most trustworthy huntsman, one that would surely lay his life down for the queen if asked. But it was not his life she wanted, but Snow White's.
"I want her heart." Grimhilde pulled the knife from her cape. "Bring it to me."
The huntsman nodded.
"Do not fail, or I will take someone else's life as well."
Queen Grimhilde brought her own ways to a dying kingdom and helped to save it. No one would question her motives or actions; to them, that was just the way she was.
And if she wanted the fair princess's heart, she would get it - whether the princess give it freely, or the queen take it by force and keep it tucked away safely in a small chest. Only the queen could be able to unlock it and admire the treasure inside.