Disclaimer: I do not own The 10th Kingdom. This is merely a fanfiction.
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"How is this possible? You're dead! I saw you fall in that throne room!"
King Wendell stood flabbergasted in the Mirror World, his carriage driver Winston hiding behind him nervously. The smile never left the face of Christine Lewis White, the former Evil Queen. "Hello, Wendell," she repeated. "It has been far too long …"
"A few weeks," Wendell spat. "And much too soon for my tastes."
"Weeks? Months? Eons? Time is irrelevant in this place. All things stand still, yet time continues to replay. The past, the present, and things yet to come."
Wendell raised an eyebrow. "What are you on about?"
The Queen turned away from him, her brow furrowed, as she began drawing a rectangle in the air with a gloved hand. Wendell watched warily, yet his curiosity was peaked. In a moment, the Evil Queen had drawn the outline of a mirror. Light bubbled out of it, as though it had become a doorway. The Queen turned, smiling, her gloved hand extended invitingly to the King. "Come. Come and see the past unseen."
Winston shook his head. "I don't like this."
"A way out?" Wendell asked.
The Evil Queen shook her head. "Don't be absurd. We will never leave the Mirror Realm. Our souls are bound here to a timeless eternity – forced to view our pasts and other's future with no power to change anything. Can you think of a greater Hell?"
"I'm not going anywhere with you!"
"Not even to see your parents? Or even … Snow White …?"
Wendell started. "I -."
"Don't listen to her, Your Majesty," Winston warned. "She has nothing but tricks and ill intent. Do you want to end up on all fours marking your territory on trees again?"
"No, you're quite right Winston," Wendell agreed. He lifted his gaze to his former stepmother. "I will go nowhere with you."
"Wendell …"
The voice called to him from the light. Wendell started again. "That – that voice – Snow White's voice!" His excitement rose.
"She's playing you!" Winston warned again.
"Wendell … come to me … let me hold you again …"
The Evil Queen stretched her hand towards him again, her smile growing. "And what evil do you think I can do to you, Wendell? That the Snow Queen hasn't done to us already? This power you see is not my own – it's the Mirror. The Mirror lets you visit the past, the present and the future that may yet be with no power to influence it. My own power and ability to influence the outside world has quite evaporated it seems."
Wendell was torn. His stepmother was still standing there, hand extended. But Snow White's voice was calling to him, tugging at his heart.
The Queen shrugged. "Well, if you're not interested -." She turned and began tracing the shape of the mirror again. The light began to vanish and the entryway began to close.
"Wait!"
The Queen stopped, staring at him expectantly.
"What will I see?" he asked.
"What you have already seen."
"I don't trust you."
"You don't have to. But if we're going to remain here through all eternity, we might as well learn to … tolerate … each other, shan't we?" She raised her eyebrow at Winston. "As intolerable as your presences may be to me."
Wendell stared at the light. I'm already trapped in the Devil's Mirror. What else do I have to lose? "It'll show me the past, you say?"
"That is … one … of the powers of this place."
"I still don't trust you … but if we have eternity …"
Wendell took his stepmother's hand and they walked into the light. Winston facepalmed. "I am going to regret this." He followed them through the void.
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Wendell and the Queen were standing in an old hallway. People around them were crying and mourning. The King and his wife – Wendell's true parents – stood there, the king holding his wife tightly to his chest, crying into her hair. "My parents!" Wendell exclaimed. He ran over to them, rushing to hug them. His hands passed through them as though they were made of air.
"You cannot interact with them," the Evil Queen sighed. "As often as I've tried. The past cannot be altered. These … are memories. Your memories. The people here cannot see you, cannot hear you. They exist only in your mind."
A little boy ran past Wendell. The King had turned and Wendell watched as he embraced the child.
"That's me," Wendell breathed, watching the boy. "When I was seven. I remember this day. This was the day …"
"- that Snow White died," the Evil Queen breathed, almost relishing the memory.
Wendell watched as a chamber-lord emerged from a bedroom solemnly, his hands in front of him. "Your Highness – Prince Wendell – she will see you now."
The seven-year-old Wendell looked up at his parents, who nodded grimly. Wiping his eyes, he entered the bedroom. The adult Wendell followed, the Evil Queen close at his footsteps. Winston stood outside, not wanting to invade Wendell's private memories. He shuddered, creeped out by the figures unable to see or hear him.
Inside the bedroom, candles were lit, casting a red and black hue across the walls. There was a cough from a bed. "Come closer, my little love …"
Wendell watched as his younger self approached the bedside, playing nervously with his fingers. In the dim light he could see the elderly form of Snow White struggling in her bed.
"Grandmama," the little Wendell said. "Lay back! You need your strength!"
The adult Wendell found himself repeating the words.
A withered hand reached out, grasping his. She played with the back of his hand with the pads of her fingers, rubbing his hand soothingly.
"The time has come, little cherub."
Young Wendell wept. "I don't want you to go. Please Grandmama!"
The elderly Snow White chuckled from the bed. "I don't want to leave you, little cherub. But I must go the way of all flesh. We are given one life. Like a candle blown in the wind, like the grass grown today and sheared tomorrow – my own time has come."
"There's got to be a way! I'll find some way!"
"We must all cross that great ocean. I will not say don't cry. Let your tears run down. Be different than your father. He could never let the tears flow. Even now. Take care of him – there will be more trying times ahead for him, more loss. But you – be free with your tears, Wendell, for they say much about what's in your heart."
The young Wendell hiccupped. "But … my life will be so empty without you …"
Snow White was quiet for a moment. She withdrew her hand back into the shadows. When it reappeared, she was holding a single flower. She pressed it into his hands. He looked down at it, tears flowing, before staring back up into her warm yet tired eyes.
"One day, my dear cherub, you will meet me again, though I will never return …" Her hand withdrew back into the shadows.
The young Wendell gulped. "What do you mean?"
There was silence.
"Grandmama …?"
The candles flickered … and the room was filled with nothing but a harrowing silence.
Behind them, the door flung open. Several silver-bearded dwarves entered. They rushed into the room, surrounding the bed, lowering their hoods. Their leader sighed, wiping his eyes with his cap. "Here lies the Fairest of Them All."
King Wendell wiped his eyes as the memory vanished around him. He, Winston and the Evil Queen were back in the empty timeless void of the Mirror Realm.
"Are there no happy memories?" he asked his stepmother. "Of me and Snow White playing in the fields for instance?"
"No," the Evil Queen said instantly. "We may relive memories … but only the ones that bring us pain. All through eternity. That is the curse of this place, of The Devil's Mirror."
Wendell cleared his throat, hiding his tears from his stepmother. "And what of you?" he finally asked. "What painful memories does it show you?"
The Evil Queen faltered for a moment, her face falling. In a moment she collected herself, the mask of aloofness back across her face. "My life is pain. I do not need to be shown memories."
Wendell turned, rubbing his cheek. "Now how did you do this?" He began tracing a rectangle in the air, replicating his stepmother's motions from before.
"Fool boy," she spat at him. "As if you had the power to -."
A rectangular shape appeared, following the motions of Wendell's fingers. The Queen was shocked. She very quickly composed herself. "I must insist you stop this immediately!"
Wendell stared defiantly at her as he continued to trace a rectangle. Light began bubbling through it.
"Wendell! Stop this!"
Voices came from the light. Memories from the Evil Queen's past.
"Are you coming, Stepmother?" Wendell asked as he stepped a foot into the light.
"Most certainly not."
"Very well. If you would like me to pry into your past without you there to give the necessary context, then I'll pass my own judgments. Come along Winston." He and his carriage driver disappeared through the light.
The Evil Queen stood there, fists clenched. "Fool boy! I should have strangled you the moment I first turned you into a dog!" Her eyes narrowed and she grit her teeth as she followed them into the light.
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"This night – it will be a coronation!"
Mrs. Slevil hung over her nineteen-year-old daughter who sat in a mirror, brushing her long red hair. They were in a grand bedroom at the Ritz in Manhattan. Christine was gazing at herself in the mirror as her mother paced behind her, still talking.
"And there will be dozens of eligible bachelors! The governor's nephew! The son of the CEO of Chase Manhattan! And you my daughter, have the pick of the crop!"
Christine placed her brush on the dresser. "My pick … funny choice of words coming from you, Mother."
Mrs. Slevil nearly sloshed her drink around. "Oh, don't tell me you're still fretting about that boy James!"
"His name is Jack." The young Christine turned and faced her mother. "But you knew that – you curse his name every day."
"Bah! He's old news. And when will you realize he's -."
"Beneath me?"
Mrs. Slevil barely concealed her contempt. "He's a baggage boy."
"He manages a grocery store -."
"- a common, blue collar – in any event how can he support you?! You deserve a life of extravagance! We were born New York Royalty! How can a baggage boy give you the life you're entitled to?"
"Is that why you slept with his District Manager and got him to threaten Jack that if he didn't stop seeing me, he'd fire him?"
Mrs. Slevil sipped her drink. "A woman must do whatever it takes to protect her daughter. Even all the revolting things. And how did you know about that?"
Christine went back to combing her hair. "You think you're subtle, Mother. But I'm more subtle than you've ever dreamed."
"Don't let our royal status go to your head, my dear. Now hurry – finish getting ready. The party is about to begin and I have to go yell at the caterer!" Mrs. Slevil vanished out the door.
Christine sighed and stared at herself in the mirror. She wiped her eyes and turned, staring at the elegant ballgown on a mannequin that she had to change into. She stood up. As she did, the mirror in front of her suddenly froze, as though the glass had turned to ice. Christine blinked, unsure of what she just saw.
Only glass there. It was an ordinary mirror.
Shrugging, she turned and began dressing in her party dress.
But she couldn't shake the feeling of eyes watching her from the mirror.
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"Introducing – the new Queen of New York High Life – Christine Slevil!"
The audience in the Ritz's ballroom applauded. Mrs. Slevil sloshed her drink around wearing her exotic furs as the young Christine appeared at the top of the stairs. She truly did look like royalty in an elegant ballgown and crystal-encrusted tiara. She descended the stairs as her mother took her hand. "Christine, my dear – I'd like to introduce you to the Duke of Eastampton – here all the way from England. And quite handsome too. Oh Neville! Neville, dear!"
A handsome young man in his twenties approached. "Mrs. Seville! An honor!" He bent and kissed her hand.
Mrs. Slevil practically pushed Christine into him. "This is my lovely daughter, Christine. Beautiful, isn't she?"
"Exquisite," Neville answered.
Christine felt creeped out as he not exactly staring at her eyes. And he was quite blatant about it.
"And no man in her life!" Mrs. Slevil exclaimed. "But perhaps you can put a change to that my dear Neville!" She nudged Christine. Christine shot her a dirty look. Mrs. Slevil did not notice the expression on her daughter's face. "I'll just leave you two alone."
"Your Mother knows how to put on a delightful party," Neville said as Mrs. Slevil waltzed away. "Just like the kind thrown in England by the Royals. Perhaps you'll accompany me sometime -."
Christine was barely listening. She looked past him at the caterers. There was one employee she recognized – a young man. He turned to look at her with longing eyes.
"- and of course you'll meet the Duke and Dutchess of Sussex and -."
Christine pushed her way past him. "Excuse me."
"Well I say!"
Christine pushed her way through the crowds of people, all of whom were wishing her well. She marched straight for the catering employee, grabbed him by the arm, shoved him through a door into an empty room and locked it.
The caterer was about to speak before Christine crashed her lips against his. Then she smacked him.
"Ow!" he protested. "What was that for?"
"Jack," Christine breathed. "What are you doing here?"
"Only way I could get close to you …"
"After ignoring me?"
"I wasn't ignoring you!"
"Two weeks of missed calls and me crying on your answering machine -."
Jack sighed. "I'm moving Chris …"
"M-moving …?"
"After your mother got me fired … I've got a place. Up in Aspen. I put a down payment on it."
"You're joking."
Jack grabbed her hands. "Our dream come true! I have plane tickets. We can leave tonight and start our lives together!"
"So quickly?" Christine asked. "My mother -."
"- will fight us every step of the way," Jack interrupted. "This is the only way we can ever be together in peace. Will you? Come with me tonight?"
"I -?"
Before she could answer, Jack was on bended knee, producing a ring in a jewelry box. "It isn't much … but it was the best I could afford. Christine Slevil – will you -."
"Yes!"
Christine leapt on him, kissing him all over. Jack smiled. The two held each other, weeping.
"It feels like a dream," Christine breathed.
"A dream come true," Jack answered. "We'll go tonight. My buddy's a cab driver. He'll take us to JFK for our flight. I have a few things to take care of. Meet me tonight at Central Park. Midnight."
"Midnight. Okay."
"You will be able to slip away?"
Christine raised an eyebrow. "As opposed to the hundreds of other times I've snuck out of my mom's penthouse to come see you?"
Jack kissed her again. "You have no idea how happy you've made me. And here – I want you to see it, so you have something to look forward to. Our new home." He handed her printout. It was an MLS listing with a picture of a beautiful Aspen cottage in the snow.
"It's exquisite," she breathed.
"Remember. Midnight in Central Park. Our usual meeting spot." He kissed her on the forehead. "I love you."
She hugged him tightly, never wanting to let him go. "I love you too …"
He kissed her one last time … and vanished back out into the ballroom. Christine stood in the empty room, unable to contain her joy.
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Jack walked down the street that night, a bounce in his step, the plane tickets in his hand. He couldn't believe it. Christine Slevil, the most beautiful, untouchable girl in Manhattan had said yes. Had said yes to him! Him, of all people, a lowly blue-collar worker.
Oh, all their dreams were about to come true! Finally, after all the hiding and sneaking around, they could be together forever! Their new life!
He stopped at an empty intersection. He checked his watch. Fifteen minutes to midnight. He looked up. The light changed to "CROSS." He stepped forward onto the crosswalk, nearly dancing.
The drunk driver never saw him, even after he ran the red light and hit Jack head-on.
And Jack was dead before he ever hit the ground. The plane tickets fell out of his pocket and fluttered slowly to the pavement.
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Christine had managed to give her mother and her rich snob friends the slip later that evening. She had changed into her normal wear – jeans and a normal button-down shirt. Her heart palpitated with excitement as she sat down at the usual bench in Central Park she and Jack had met at so very often.
And she waited patiently.
And waited.
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She stared at her watch. 3:00 Am. She wiped her eyes.
Jack had stood her up.
He wasn't coming.
She stood up, her heart breaking inside her chest.
How could she have been so foolish? How could the universe have fooled her into thinking she could ever be happy?
Jack had stood her up. They were not going to be married. They would not begin a new life in Aspen.
She began walking through the park, wiping her eyes.
"Are you lost my child?"
A voice. Like gravel.
Christine looked around, her heart racing.
"Are you lost?"
In the trees, as though shimmering through a mirror, stood a withered old hag. A bony hand reached for her. "Come to me – and I will make all your pain disappear."
Christine stood there, mesmerized, staring at the hand.
"Come to me and forget all your sorrow."
Christine moved forward, her hand reaching.
She stopped – she came to her senses.
"No!"
She turned and ran from the park.
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"So – what brings you to Aspen?"
Christine sat on a ski lift next to a blonde skier in tight clothing and goggles. She was a peppy college-aged girl named Tiffani.
"I'm on holiday," Christine said as the lift ascended higher and higher.
Tiffani raised an eyebrow. "Just on holiday, huh? Come on, girl-talk. You got that look about you. You're a girl on a mission! You're looking for somebody!"
"In a matter of sorts."
"Oh I love a good love story! You gotta tell me! Tell me, tell me!"
"Okay, fine. I'm looking for someone."
"A guy? Tell me it's a guy!"
"Alright, it's a guy." Christine couldn't help laughing. "We were supposed to come here together. He even bought us a house."
Tiffani was suddenly somber and very interested. "What happened?"
"He never showed. But that's not like him – he never would have stood me up. Something happened."
"So you're here hoping he's here in Aspen?"
Christine nodded. "I know it's a longshot. But I just have to know. I have to know whether he's here or not."
"I really hope you find him," Tiffani said. "I've never heard anything so romantic!" And she leaped off the ski lift onto the base of the mountain as it reached the top. Christine followed her. They were on the top the mountain. A male ski instructor was waving them on.
"Now go slow," the instructor was saying.
"I know how to ski," Christine said. "I'm a pro."
"Nevertheless, I really should give you the basics -."
"Last one down's a rotten egg!" Tiffani was already racing down the mountain, blasting the ski instructor with snow. Christine laughed, taking off after Tiffani.
The two raced down the mountain neck and neck, dodging trees and other skiers. Tiffani was laughing and for once, Christine managed a smile. The girl was annoying, but she was beginning to grow on her.
Tiffani leaned forward, picking up speed. Oh no, Christine wouldn't let her win. Her competitive nature took over and she picked up speed. She could feel the wind whipping around her. And then – a snowbank.
Christine realized she couldn't turn in time. She hit the bank, flying up into the air, spinning like a pinwheel. Her scream tore through the mountainside.
She hit the snow, saw nothing but white, then nothing at all.
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"Are you okay? Chris, are you okay?"
Christine's eyes fluttered open. She looked around. She was surrounded by frozen trees. She was in the middle of the woods on the mountain. At least … she hoped she was still on the mountain.
Tiffani was kneeling next to her. She helped her sit up.
"My head feels like it was ripped in two," Christine muttered.
"Good thing I was here to drag you off the ski track."
Christine looked around. "Think you can get me to a medic?"
"All in good time." Her grip on Christine's arm tightened – like iron.
"Tiff?"
Tiffani's smile was no longer warm. It was cold – like ice. Christine tried to wrench her arm away. Tiffani's hand was like a vice. She tried to scream – no voice came out.
The ground began quaking. Behind Tiffani, something rose from the ground. A mirror? In the middle of the woods? It's gnarled legs and twisted horns gave Christine the shivers. Tiffani forced Christine to her feet, shoved her towards the mirror, forcing her to see her reflection.
Christine stared at her disheveled red hair, the bruises on her face. And she saw Tiffani's reflection. But Tiffani did not look like herself. Her reflection instead showed a woman with pale white skin and an icy crown on top of a sheet of jet-black hair.
The Snow Queen held Christine in place as the Devil's Mirror churned and grumbled. "A deal has been struck," the Snow Queen uttered.
Christine struggled in her icy grip. "Let me go!"
"The Swamp Witch needs someone to carry on her work. She has chosen you to destroy the House of White. A deal was made with her and the Devil. And I – his envoy – have been selected to prepare the Swamp Witch's new apprentice."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
The Snow Queen held Christine's head in place, forcing her to stare into the Devil's Mirror. Cracks suddenly webbed along the mirror's surface – then CRASH! Shards of glass splintered and shot from the mirror. Christine screamed as a shard embedded itself deep into her eyeball. She clawed at her eye.
The Snow Queen hurled her into the snowy ground. "You will fall asleep. You will not remember this encounter. You will not remember me, or my Mirror or even 'Tiffani'."
Christine rolled in the snow, her mitten pressed tightly to her eye. "What have you done to me?!"
"The Devil's Mirror has a very potent power. One shard in the eyeball is all it takes … it'll happen slowly. Slowly but surely you will sink into madness. Everything you love will appear horrible and ugly. Every person you love will eventually appear to you as a monster – you will be convinced everyone you love is out for blood. Your blood. You will kill those closest to you, convinced they mean to destroy you. And the Swamp Witch will have her apprentice."
And the Snow Queen and the Devil's Mirror vanished in a tuft of smoke and ice as Christine faded into unconsciousness.
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"Hey – are you okay?"
Christine came to. Her vision was swimming. But she had no memory of the encounter. No knowledge of the Snow Queen or the splinter now in her eye.
"Hey – can you hear me? I gotta get you to a medic."
Christine sat up, a man's hand on her shoulder gently guiding her up. It was the ski instructor.
"You took a nasty spill there."
"I – I think I'm okay."
The instructor took off his goggles and hood to reveal a handsome young man. He kneeled down next to her. "You're gonna be just fine, I promise. What's your name?"
"Christine."
"Nice to meet you, Christine. The name's Antony. You can me Tony for short. Tony Lewis."
Christine smiled at the handsome young man and shook his mittened hand. "Nice to meet you, Tony Lewis."
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"If anyone has any objections, please speak now or forever hold your peace."
Christine and Tony were standing at an altar in a church. Christine shot Mrs. Slevil a nasty look. Her mother indeed had been intending to say something.
"By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride."
Tony leaned in and kissed Christine.
And she began her new life with a new love.
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Christine screamed as Tony held her shoulders, breathing heavily with her.
"You're almost there – almost there! One more push!"
There was the sound of crying. Christine fell back onto a pillow as Tony beamed.
"It's a little girl."
"Honey," Tony said. "You do the honors."
"Virginia," Christine breathed. "Her name will be Virginia."
The doctors brought the now cleaned-up little baby to the new mother. The child was wrapped in warm swaddling and Christine smiled as she took up her child in her arms.
She looked down.
She child snarled at her, its features twisted like a horrifying monster! Christine wanted to scream – she stopped.
In her arms was a normal little baby girl crying for her mother. A beautiful little girl. Christine blinked, no trace of the horrifying creature any longer. This was her beautiful little Viriginia. Her little girl.
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"Her behavior's becoming more erratic," Tony was saying. He was sitting in his apartment with Mrs. Slevil, who seemed disgusted to be sitting on his couch. A drink was in her hand in typical fashion.
"Can't you see she's unhappy?" Mrs. Slevil snarled. "She could have had the Duke of -."
"Yeah, I can go a day without the insults, thanks. I asked you here to help your daughter. I really think she needs a psychiatrist. Virginia came home from school the other day and went to hug her – and she screamed in Virginia's face and ran into Central Park. She keeps disappearing, and she keeps reappearing there."
"Why Central Park do you wonder?" Mrs. Slevil asked, flicking a stemmed cigarette, dropping ashes onto Tony's floor.
"I don't know … when the cops find her, she tells them she's waiting for somebody. She's adamant that a 'Jack' is supposed to be there at midnight."
Mrs. Slevil stiffened at the name. She quickly recovered. "I'm sure I have no idea what any of that means."
Tony leaned forward. "If she needs therapy -."
"Are you suggesting my daughter be institutionalized?"
"What? No -."
"Because if anyone belongs in an asylum, it's you! To think I wasted my afternoon when I could be home watching Matlock. This was a waste of time. I trust I will not hear of this again?"
Tony put on a fake smile as he walked his mother-in-law to the door. "Always nice to see you, 'Ma'."
"Antony you know how it irritates me to hear you call me that."
Tony's smile grew wider. "I know." Then he slammed the door in her face. He latched it, then slid down the door, his face in his hands.
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Christine sat alone in her bedroom, a small picture in her hand. She wept over it. It was a picture of herself and Jack at a pier. They were so happy, and so in love. Christine sobbed over the picture.
"Mom – it's time for my bath."
Christine continued weeping.
"Mom?"
Christine jumped as though she were burned. She put the picture in the folds of her dress. "I'll get it ready!" she called. She pushed herself to her feet and entered the bathroom. She kneeled down and started a hot bath. She was sobbing, her mind still on Jack.
Behind her, Virginia entered in a bathrobe. Christine quickly wiped the sorrow from her face and put on a smile. Virginia dropped the robe and Christine helped her into the bath and began scrubbing her.
"That's a good girl. Always so good for Mommy. I love you so much."
"I love you too, Mommy."
Christine began scrubbing Virginia. She blinked.
Virginia was no longer in the tub. Instead, there was a horrifying monster. It had scales, fangs and its claws reached for her. She screamed. "Where is my daughter?! Where is she?!"
She fiercely scrubbed the monster, hoping that if she scrubbed hard enough the scales would come off and she would find her beloved daughter underneath.
The monster reached for her – it wanted to slash her throat. She had to act quickly – she grabbed the monster by the neck and shoved it under the water. It thrashed and struggled, gurgling under the water. Christine was crying. "Where is my daughter?!"
A door opened in the apartment. "Christine?" Tony was home. Good – he would help her destroy this creature.
Tony entered the bathroom. "Oh my – Christine!"
Christine looked down at the monster she was drowning. There was no monster. It was her daughter.
She had almost drowned her own daughter.
She let go and staggered backwards to her feet. Tony rushed forward, grabbing Virginia, lifting her out of the water. "What have you done?!" he screamed. "What have you done?!"
"I – she was a monster – you didn't see …?"
Tony laid Virginia on the tiled floor. He began pressing down on her chest. "Come on, breathe damn you, breathe!"
Christine backed away, her hands to her mouth, tears streaming. How, how could she have almost killed her own daughter?
"Come on, come on!" Tony leaned in, performing mouth-to-mouth on his daughter. He backed away as Virginia coughed, sputtering up water.
A sigh of relief escaped Tony's lips.
Virginia's eyes turned up to her mother. "Mommy … why … why?"
Christine stared at her hands, horrified by what she had almost done. She took one look at Tony, then her daughter, and then fled.
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Christine ran, crying and screaming, dodging traffic. She was in Central Park now, crying. She stared down at her hands as she leaned against a tree, horrified by what she had almost done with her own hands.
She looked up.
The bench was there. The bench that she had sat waiting for Jack all those years ago.
Jack. Tony. Virginia.
Her heart ached. She wanted to tear it out with her own hands, to forget her life, forget everything.
"Are you lost child?"
Christine looked up. The Swamp Witch had materialized before her through a mirror.
"Are you lost?" A withered hand emerged from the mirror, beckoning her. "Come to me, and I will help you to forget."
Christine stood. She hesitated.
Then, she took the Swamp Witch's hand and followed her through the mirror.
On the ground, curling in the cold, was the old picture of Christine and Jack.
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The surroundings morphed and swirled. The Evil Queen cried out, holding her eyes in her gloved hand. She, Wendell and Winston were back in the Mirror World.
Wendell stared at her, amazed. For so long he had resented – even hated – his Stepmother. But now that he saw the full truth – that it wasn't all her fault – that she had been manipulated by both the Swamp Witch and the Snow Queen – he couldn't help but feel some pity. He took a step towards her. "Stepmother …"
The Evil Queen had her back to him. "Leave me," she cried, her shoulders moving with each sob.
Wendell placed his hand on her shoulder. "Stepmother, let me help you."
"LEAVE ME!"
She snarled, shoving him away. Wendell stood there. He nodded, his lip firm. "Come, Winston." He turned with his stagecoach and walked away.
Christine the Evil Queen sunk to her knees, her sobs ringing throughout the timeless eternity …
