A fantasy for desperation.
She would sit in front of the mirror everyday, frozen before her reflection, and would imagine that she was beautiful.
She would have hair, lovely locks spun as if from gold. She would have smooth milk skin with nary a mark blemishing it. But most of all, her mirror-self would have the most enchanting eyes; green with flecks of sliver embedded within, a treasure within a treasure.
People would love her in this mirror world, where princes were always in season and balls were thrown for the most mundane of occasions.
She would have sisters in this wondrous world of hers. Eleven sisters and she would be the twelfth, the loveliest and most adored.
She would have suitors, so many suitors, all handsome and kind and with a loyal steed. It would be marvelous to talk to every single one, listening to their infinite praise, and say, "Oh how absolutely witty you are Prince So-and-so!"
Then they would kneel and propose, proffering a ring or a single red rose. And she would say "No," and smile charmingly. And they wouldn't be angry at all, for they would love her too much to be angry. Oh no, they would be disappointed of course, but then they would become her knight or something of that sort
Her sisters would smile then and take her to a dance, a most secret of dances to celebrate their freedom. And at this dance, the fairies would show, flitting and flirting about her sisters. And at this dance there would be her one true love, a farmer's boy or cowherd or something equally unsuitable for a princess like her.
He would take her hand and walk with her around this world within a world. He would show her the boats by the gilded trees and confess his unwavering adoration. It would be absolutely perfect and because it would be, she would forget to pretend.
She would touch her face, covered in pox and framed by the memory of hair.
She would open her eyes and see nothing at all.
Perhaps that would be for the best though. Had she seen what was in the mirror, her maiden heart would surely break.
Because in the cool glass mirror was a boy, young and fragile, stricken with disease that stole his sight and his looks and his memories.