The reason Lucy chose 'European Fairy Tales and their Modern Applications' as a literature elective was not very deep or profound - it had sounded easy. Read some well-known fairy tales, do a little research, maybe watch a Disney movie or two and finally write some sort of essay and be done with it.
The lectures themselves had been interesting, though she hadn't invested much more time or energy than was required, treating the course as a breather between her more challenging subjects.
Considering all this, Lucy was still painfully familiar with the famous tale of Snow White. The story began as the first queen wished for a daughter with skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood and hair as black as ebony. She had her wish granted only to miserably die in childbirth and end her part of the story quite prematurely.
The second queen was an evil enchantress, possessing witchcraft and a magic mirror, whose only function was to every morning tell her that she was the fairest of all - until Snow White's beauty surpassed hers and the evil queen strived for the young princess' death in retaliation. As evil plans tend to do, hers failed and as a consequence she tragically died herself at the end of the tale.
Maybe Lucy should have figured it out upon discovering the iconic magic mirror. But being inside a story had been so far out of her realm of possibility that she hadn't even considered it. Possessing some queen in a faraway land was already farfetched - possessing a witchcraft-practicing and child-murdering villainess in a well-known fairy tale hadn't even been a consideration.
It was a work of fiction after all. A fictional kingdom, fictional characters, simply parts of a story. Though Lucy knew, thanks to her course, that there had probably been a real-life inspiration for the tale, it hadn't played out quite like this and the girl had certainly not been named Snow White!
After the horrible revelation, Lucy had shooed the flustered girl-servant away, claiming a headache. Hopefully the excuse would keep anyone away long enough that Lucy could gather her senses.
She already felt better than she had a few hours ago when the first realization had caused her to hysterically laugh and cry alternately. She also was no longer tempted to jump out the window and see if her ghost couldn't possess someone else, preferably someone in the real world.
Instead, now she just felt … numb. As if all her emotions had drained her empty, leaving only the cold realization behind that she found herself in a ridiculous situation.
Trapped in a fairy tale. And not even as the main character, but as the villainess.
If it didn't feel so real, she would be tempted to believe herself delusional. But … even in her wildest dreams, she wouldn't come up with this. And she felt pain, warmth, stress … her heart beat and her lungs filled with air. She was alive and no matter how she had ended up here, this world felt real enough for her.
Her eyes strayed to the recessed alcove, hidden behind a heavy, satin curtain. A magic mirror …
Frustrated she rubbed her face, feeling the smooth and flawless skin sting under her hands. No wonder her looks were so otherworldly - this body formerly belonged to a witch and she could apparently keep herself young and pretty as long as she wanted.
Not prettier than Snow White though. Which was the whole reason the original villainess had been so obsessed with eradicating the girl's existence.
Which was ludicrous in itself. Beauty was in the eye of the beholder, and while there was probably no-one that would claim this body didn't possess a stunning visual, some might prefer a different kind of face or body. How did the mirror measure beauty anyways? While she hadn't seen Snow White, she had glimpsed herself in the mirror and she couldn't think of a thing to change to enhance this body's appearance further. So how could the mirror judge the two women? Was it all-knowing? Was it some truth of the universe?
Or had it simply been a story-device, to showcase the queen's jealousy and Snow White's innocence?
A god-damn story …
Her eyes felt swollen from all the rubbing and she let her delicate hands fall to her side. The question was, at which part of the story were they? In the original tale the queen's age wasn't specified, which meant Snow White could have disappeared yesterday or years ago.
If the story followed its original trajectory, Lucy would suffer a horrible end as the villainess. There were different versions, but one that stayed in her mind was the evil queen being forced to wear fiery iron shoes and dance for others' amusement until she died from the pain.
Her soft-skinned feet hurt even at the thought and a shudder climbed up her spine. She had to avoid the queen's original end at all cost.
Maybe she should simply disappear? But this world was a story after all - what would happen if one of the main characters wasn't there to play their role? Would it simply go on or would it collapse on itself? And would Lucy even be able to change anything or was it one of those 'Fate always finds a way' kind of things?
Once more, her eyes strayed to the dark curtain. In the original tale, the mirror had only answered one question, but that didn't necessarily mean that was all it had the answer to. It was some kind of magical entity after all, able to speak and seemingly all-knowing - at least if it concerned the kingdom's beauty standards.
In the original story, the mirror had known more than just Snow White's appearance though, able to tell the queen about her situation and where to find her - 'Snow White beyond the mountains at the Seven Dwarfs'. Which meant it was omnipotent enough to know where the young girl was at all times.
In the original story, the mirror had also tricked the queen, actually leading to her gruesome death. When she asked her infamous question, the mirror claimed there was a new queen fairer than her, without informing her it was Snow White herself. The evil queen had cluelessly made her way to the wedding ceremony only to die at the hands of an enraged prince who wanted revenge for his pitiful newly-wed bride.
So, Lucy could definitely not trust whatever the mirror might tell her. Everything should be taken with a grain of salt, because while it never lied in the original tale, that didn't mean it couldn't twist the truth.
Did she actually want to do this?
Bolstering her courage and taking a deep breath, Lucy sat up and stepped toward the curtain. Would she have to say an incantation? Yesterday, the shadowy figure had appeared without any prompting …
Before she could second-guess herself further, Lucy grabbed the curtain and drew it aside with a powerful sweep. The same perfect reflection stared at her, though the smooth skin had gained dark circles and her big, amber eyes were slightly pink.
Before she could find more stress-induced changes, her reflection began to ripple as if someone had thrown a pebble into a still pond. Gooseflesh crawled up her arms like an armada of ants and she couldn't resist the urge to rub it away.
A shadow manifested on the clear surface, swirling as if ink had been dropped into silver water, forming a humanoid, faceless creature. An icy shiver licked up Lucy's neck when it was fully formed.
For a second they just stared at each other (though the mirror-creature had no visible eyes), and then the rasping voice sounded: "My Queen …"
Alright, this is it. Lucy took a deep breath, preparing herself, when it continued:
"My Queen already knows her fate."
Lucy's deep breath got stuck in her throat. "W-what?"
Rays of dusty light, courtesy of the rising sun, reflected off the mirror's surface, almost hiding the shadowed figure in its depths. But its voice remained clear, crawling through the spacious room. "My Queen's destiny is set in ink and parchment, as clear as daylight and as unavoidable as the tide."
"No, wait …" Lucy's thoughts were scrambled, trying to catch up to its meaning. It had said the Queen's destiny was unavoidable which meant Lucy would … "My destiny is to die?"
That couldn't be it, that would be too cruel, it hadn't been Lucy that decided this body's beauty should be valued above all morals …
"My Queen's fate is unchangeable. Yours, however, is still flowing from the pen."
Lucy froze. A tick of silence passed before her hoarse voice echoed through the gigantic chambers, almost disconnected from her body and conscious thought. It was simply instinct that forced the words out of her mouth. "You know."
The figure swirled faster, dripping black tendrils through the smooth surface. "Naturally. Knowledge is my gift."
Lucy's knees gave way from underneath her and distantly she was aware that her perfect bottom plopped unceremoniously onto the elaborate bed covers. But she didn't care - the only thing occupying her mind were the mirror's words. "So you know how I got here? You know what's going on?"
"Naturally," it repeated but didn't elaborate.
While Lucy could usually count patience among her virtues, this was not one of those moments where she was able to apply it. The next word out of her mouth was biting and sharp once she realized the mirror had no intention of explaining itself. "How?"
"You entered a world not your own, inhabited a vessel that was not born for you."
"I know! But how? Why?"
"Those are not the right questions."
Lucy was sorely tempted to throw one of those ridiculously expensive cushions at the mirror. "And what would be the right question?"
"How to return."
She froze, her hand already squashing one of the pillows, the careful stitches covering its surface carving into her skin like needlesticks. "Return … There is a way to return? I can go back to my world?"
Until now Lucy hadn't allowed herself to even consider the notion, though it creeped through the cracks of her consciousness in sleep. But that was all it had seemed to her - a far-fetched dream. How could she even think about returning to her own body, her own world, when she couldn't figure out how she had arrived here. She had assumed that she must have died or met an equally damning fate, but now …
Hope flickered alive inside her chest, warming her all the way down to her toes.
Maybe she could go back to her life, her treasured posters, her classic rock music, her fuzzy socks and boring lectures - her family. Lucy's eyes started swimming when she thought of her Mum's nagging through the phone, her brother's scoff whenever he thought Lucy had said something especially dumb, her father clearing his throat when he was handed the receiver and didn't know what to say.
Part of her must have thought it all lost forever, because the relief flooding through her body now made her feel a million pounds lighter than before, as if invisible weights had been lifted from her shoulders.
"I can go back?" she repeated, her voice almost reverent.
"Certainly. Once you have achieved what you are here for."
The giddy feeling inside her stomach stuttered and dulled. Of course there was a catch. "And what exactly am I here for?"
"Destruction of the natural order."
"What?" Destruction of what?
"Good and evil, righteousness and vengefulness, triumph and death."
Lucy had a feeling that whatever the mirror was trying to explain was going right over her head. "I don't understand what that means."
If the mirror had been more human, Lucy was sure that it would have sighed. Instead the swirling of the black ink intensified a bit, before forcefully calming down. "This world is only a branch on a vast tree, one story among hundreds of its kind, its tale old and retold so often it splits in its details, creating a myriad of similar but different realities, linked in their essence, overlapping in their forms but twisting in their minutiae."
Lucy swallowed. "So what you're telling me is that this … this reality is only one version of Snow White's tale?"
"Yes. And your task is to cut it loose from its trunk."
Why? Lucy wanted to ask. Why was this task so important that her soul had been yanked across dimensions and plopped into another body, the body of a villainous character to boot?
But in the end she voiced another question: "How am I supposed to do that?"
"You alter the story."
Lucy blinked. That shouldn't be too difficult - as the villainess, she could simply not poison Snow White, and that would be the end of it. Hopefully it would also allow her to avoid the fate of dancing until excruciating pain made her heart stop.
A slithering sound creeped through the room, like dry leaves scattering over marble. It took Lucy a shuddering second to realize that the mirror was chuckling.
"My Queen, I am deeply sorry to shatter your illusions. This tale will not bend so easily. And we do not need to bend it, but to break it."
Destruction of the natural order, its voice whispered from Lucy's memories. This time she didn't fight the goosebumps rising across her neck. "So what would break it?"
There was malice in the deep voice when it spoke again. "Evil triumphing over good."
"You mean …"
"This time My Queen's ambitions shall not fail."
Lucy's slender hand wandered to her thigh without conscious thought, clenching the soft flesh in an iron grip, the pain the only thing stopping her from screaming.
The original Queen's ambitions were no mystery …
The mirror wanted Lucy to kill Snow White.
And succeed.
Living as a Queen in a medieval fairy tale land was not all that bad, Lucy decided after a while in her new body.
Lucy never learned the name of the original Queen because she was only ever addressed as 'Your Grace' by her retinue of servants, all who were cowed and frightened in her presence. Every morning she was awoken by one of them, carefully knocking on the wand panels that apparently hid the servant stairs (and would make a great place for assassins to enter or hide, Lucy thought silently). Then she was bathed either in steaming water that had been infused with fresh flower petals or in goat's milk mixed with honey - which Lucy quickly decided she didn't like, not only because it was a ridiculous waste of food but also because it made her skin all sticky. Afterwards different creams were applied to her face and oils to her hair (both out of unlabeled glass bottles from the Queen's vanity), the hesitant, light fingers of the young servant girl's never daring to even rip out a single strand with their brush strokes. Sometimes they even ground up actual pearls, big as Lucy's teeth, and dusted the powder over her skin. It was astonishingly decadent and an outright waste, as the powder was washed off the next day with her daily bath.
The most ridiculous thing about it was that Lucy didn't even like baths that much. She much preferred a quick, efficient shower and if she wanted to relax she would simply turn the water on hot and spend a few more minutes under the massaging spray. She had never understood why some people were addicted to stewing in what was essentially a big bowl of people-soup, full of dirt and sweat that had sluiced off their skin.
But Lucy never once told her servants to stop their daily, strenuous task. Though the pale faces and trembling fingers made guilt roll through her stomach like a ball of lead, she didn't want anyone to suspect that their mistress was no longer the same.
Acting in front of the servants wasn't too difficult. Lucy simply remained cold and stand-offish and snapped a few cruel warnings whenever she encountered the slightest inconvenience, like her most-elaborate robe having a small crease. But she could never bring herself to actually administer physical punishment, despite knowing that the original Queen probably liked handing it out like it was candy on Halloween.
(If you can't even bring yourself to punish them, how will you ever kill anyone?)
Thankfully her (questionable) acting talent wasn't actually required for more difficult tasks, like interacting with her husband. Through carefully worded inquiries she concluded that the King was currently out of the castle on a campaign, though she wasn't exactly sure what for. Was there a fight he needed to spearhead? Or was this simply one of his kingly duties, riding through the land and waving to his loyal subjects?
She didn't know who was handling the administrative part of the job in his absence, holding court or whatever was required of a King, but as no-one ever approached her with any questions, Lucy was happy to let sleeping lions lie. Tax and troops and whatever else needed to be decided were left to some of the king's trusted advisors, who all bowed low and deep whenever they crossed Lucy's path and never tried to pester her for any input. Sometimes she imagined she could detect a sliver of apprehension in the corner of their mouths, in their flitting eyes, but Lucy never paid it any mind. Whatever reputation she held among them wasn't one she wanted to contradict or accidentally deepen.
Sadly, it wasn't like no work was awaiting her. As Queen it was now her task to make decisions about the up-coming spring banquet (what types of flowers should be used? What food? Who would be invited?), organize multiple debutante balls for young girls to be introduced to court for the start of the season, when to next gather the ladies of the court for an 'intimate' (read: lavish and superficial) get-together and, strangest of all, when to go hunting.
Apparently the original Queen had been an avid and skilled huntress. No surprise there, really.
What was a surprise though was when Lucy suddenly found herself staring at a never-ending list of expenses, all detailed in finely written script. Apparently the King had decreed that his queen was responsible for the royal coffers, making decisions about everything within the castle, from the wages of the knights down to the produce that was to be purchased.
Thankfully the list was accompanied by a polite steward who strongly reminded Lucy of one of those supernaturally capable lawyers she'd seen in TV shows. His voice was smooth and slick, his auburn hair gathered at his nape with a black, unadorned band and his clothes were without embellishments and of muted colors, while the fabric itself was of high quality and perfectly tailored.
More importantly, his every 'suggestion' was so skillfully worded that it seemed as if it had been Lucy's decision from the start. She didn't mind going along with the charade of a money-saving and competent Queen, as long as she didn't have to figure out any kind of costs by herself. Math had never been her strong suit.
But apart from those tasks, Lucy's life was quite idle. She had the wings of the castle reserved for the royal family to herself and was glad of it - because she had no idea how the relationship between the King and the original Queen had worked.
Her good treatment, the respect she was afforded from the courtiers and the trust reflected in the expense list spoke of a very deep relationship, but Lucy didn't even know what the man looked like. She wouldn't know how to behave in front of him, because she wasn't sure how the original Queen had won him over.
Had he been under some kind of dark magic, blind to her faults and forced to love her? Or was the original Queen simply a skilled actress, hiding her flaws and making the King fall in love with the persona she presented him? And if so, what persona would that be? Coquettish? Confident? Shy or brazen? What would a King value in his Queen, what would make him fall in love with an enchantress?
Lucy never once entertained the notion that the King might have loved the Queen truly, without any deception or spells. After all, wasn't it the fate of the villain to be hated for their true self?
Despite hours spent contemplating (from a lack of anything else productive to do) Lucy didn't have any answers and though she couldn't deny a niggle of curiosity about this elusive King, who had lost his only daughter and was living with the person responsible for her disappearance, she knew she was safer if she didn't meet him.
So she passed her days in leisure, almost treating her life like a prolonged Wellness-Weekend - if one ignored the chamber pots and the lack of central heating. Living in a stone castle did have its downsides, as Lucy quickly discovered that all the thick carpets lying around weren't only to give the rooms their necessary flair but also because naked stone got awfully cold. She was almost thankful for the elaborate costumes she was tied into every morning after her bath because while they were heavy and fairly ridiculous, their fabric was also multi-layered and thick, providing warmth.
But apart from those small inconveniences, she really couldn't complain about anything.
Lucy was getting pampered, massaged and even fed extravagant feasts every night. The food was different from the convenience store fare she was used to, lots of roasts and savory pies, gleaming with oil and fat, carefully carved vegetables as a side, fresher than any she had before. But her favorite part were the desserts, small, delicate masterpieces of spun sugar and caramelized berries, dusted with shavings of nuts or topped with foamy mousse.
If it wouldn't be out of character, she would long have awarded the kitchen with some of the finest pieces of gold and ivory hoarded in her rooms.
And during all this time, Lucy never once lifted the heavy curtain trapping the mirror. Some days she could convince herself that this life wasn't bad at all, that she had never lived as easy-going as this, that being a Queen was what every little girl dreamed of.
But then she would have actual dreams at night, dreams woven from memories of her family, her friends, even herself slumped over her desk and complaining about assignments. And though that Lucy wasn't a world-stopping beauty and no-one prepared fanciful desserts for her or combed her hair so lightly she couldn't even feel a tug against her scalp, she woke with a deep ache of longing cramping her heart.
She wanted to go home. She wanted to go back to her small dorm room, back to instant noodles and make-up to hide her human imperfections. Back to family dinners during the holidays, back to the midnight screaming the student in the room next to her indulged when he was killed in his video games, back to grabbing a coffee with her friend before lectures that was topped with enough cream and syrup to give nine out of ten dentists an aneurysm.
Back to everyday things and small luxuries that were all the more meaningful and precious for their rareness.
But every time she blinked her eyes open, she stared at beautiful tapestries and glittering chandeliers. Trapped in all this finery and reverence, far from who she used to be.
And one morning, opening her eyes only to once again see the Queen's chambers, Lucy just couldn't take it anymore. Gritting her teeth she lifted the heavy duvet and made her way to the hidden alcove on silent, bare feet. She didn't want to alert the servants that she was awake yet, as they would start carrying in buckets of hot water for her bath, uncaring of the strain it put on their arms and back.
The curtain slid aside silently, revealing the gleaming mirror and the darkness gathering on its surface, forming the by-now familiar silhouette.
"My Queen."
"I'm not your Queen," Lucy muttered.
The mirror simply remained silent and somehow it weighed heavier than any words he might have said. Lucy swallowed against her sudden apprehension, trying to keep the glimmer of frustration that had propelled her out of bed alive. "If you want me to succeed in her stead, I need some information."
"Whatever my Queen wishes to learn, I shall provide."
The question that had been nibbling and nagging at Lucy's mind for a few days now burst from her lips in hesitant stutters. "Was she - am I - a witch?"
It was not something Lucy had put a lot of stock on in the first few days. She had simply been convinced that the Queen must be gifted with some supernatural powers, because not only did she possess a magic, talking mirror, she was also otherworldly beautiful.
But the more Lucy lived in her stead, the more her convictions started to waver. There was no blood-sacrificing altar hidden somewhere behind another of those long curtains, there were no magic crystals or ominously cawing ravens waiting at her window sills … There was nothing magical except the mirror.
"For the people of this land, you are. For people from your world, you would instead be considered a skilled alchemist."
"Former skilled alchemist," Lucy corrected, a sour taste spreading on her tongue. She wasn't sure if it was disappointment or shriveling relief. Had she hoped to have access to some wicked magic that might have helped her?
Maybe she had.
"My knowledge is vast. If my Queen so wishes, you shall once more brew youth or death with every concoction."
Youth or death … Lucy shivered. She didn't want to think about it, didn't want to think about poisoned garments, accessories and - fruit.
"Snow White - where is she? How long ago did the Queen send her away?"
"Order her death," the mirror corrected. "Snow White was to be killed ten years ago and my Queen devoured a boar's heart, believing it to be hers."
Ah yes, how could Lucy have forgotten that charming, cannibalistic footnote of the original tale. "How old is Snow White now?"
"Seventeen."
So the Queen had banished the girl when she was only seven. If Snow White hadn't been the blessed protagonist, Lucy highly doubted that a child that young could have survived in the forest.
She also doubted that a child that young should be able to rival a grown woman's beauty …
Don't approach this with common sense, Lucy reminded herself, it's a friggin' fairy tale.
"And right now she is living with the dwarfs?"
"Yes, awaiting the day my Queen will once more thirst for her life."
Lucy wasn't quite sure if Snow White was really longing for some beauty-obsessed maniac to remember her existence but didn't protest out loud. "Does she remember what happened?"
"She was young and her memories are distorted by time and terror."
Lucy was just about to nod, when something in the way the mirror had answered nagged at her subconsciousness. "Which doesn't mean the memories are gone."
"My Queen is observant."
"And you are tricky," Lucy fired back before she could think better of it. "Don't you want me to succeed?"
"My duties are but a reflection of my Queen's wishes."
Which really didn't mean anything, Lucy realized, because she herself wasn't sure what her wishes were.
She wanted to go home, she longed to return to her old life, but at the same time she failed to picture herself killing anyone. Even with a means as indirect as a poisoned apple, sold to a clueless girl, it wouldn't absolve her of the guilt … and Lucy wasn't sure how selfish she could really be.
Was her happiness worth the life of someone else?
It wasn't like this was a 'me or her' situation. Lucy would be able to survive just fine, as long as she didn't fall for any of the mirror's tricks or try to live up to her villainous predecessor. Her life wasn't even hard, no cruel treatment or back-breaking labor waiting for her with every sun-up. Instead she woke in the lap of luxury as the highest-ranked woman in the kingdom.
The only thing driving her to even consider this horrible course of action was home-sickness, and really, how convoluted was that?
Without warning, the roiling figure inside the mirror dissipated and a beautiful face stared back at Lucy, plush lips screwed tight in disgust, honey-eyes dripping with self-loathing. A gasp escaped those same lips and Lucy quickly swished the curtain shut, her chest heaving with panicked breaths.
She wouldn't do it, she couldn't do it …
A faint knock sounded from somewhere behind her back, followed by a timid voice: "Your Grace, please allow this servant to begin your morning ablutions …"
Lucy turned away from the curtained alcove, trying to smooth her perfect face into a calm mask. She wouldn't turn into a monster that killed for her own happiness.
But as if to test her resolve, that night the first nightmare visited her bed.
Thanks for your interest in the story! Lucy's adventure is just beginning ^^
