ucy thanked whatever deity reigned in this strange realm that the muscle-memory of her current body was intact.
Otherwise she would have surely long been thrown to the ground, broken bones as witnesses to her efforts. The horse's sides heaved against Lucy's legs, warm and smelling of sweat and fur, a strangely sweet scent. Lucy felt like an imposter while astride its back, the Queen's posture automatically adjusting, speaking of long hours in the saddle ingrained into her flesh, something Lucy could never claim for herself. If it had been her original body sitting atop the tall, palomino mare, she would have looked horribly slouched and probably been skipped right off.
Leaving the castle felt just as strange as being able to perfectly ride, as if the world unfolding beyond its stony walls had been purely hypothetical up to that point. But now that Lucy was surrounded by fragrant firs, calling birds, dappled shadows and moist air it seemed almost too real.
At least the last vestiges of surreality were upheld in her ridiculous riding dress, heaped with embroidered tassels, and the demure ladies in waiting who were riding one step behind her but looked no less graceful doing so.
Lucy and her lady-squad were accompanied by some knights who fanned around them in an illusion of privacy, not that any scandalous topic had been broached yet. Mostly the ladies had tittered about Lucy's fabulous dress (and they even sounded like they meant it), her beauty, her excellent horsemanship before switching their compliments to their environment, the weather, the season … All Lucy had to do was to look either appreciative or give a tiny nod in agreement, which was received with the same enthusiasm that a clergyman would hold towards the Pope's benediction.
One of the ladies, a Countess dressed in flamboyant red and astride a roan gelding, was even more eager to please than the others, continuously claiming how grateful she was that they finally had a chance to go for a ride, and how tedious court could grow without Lucy there to provide such stimulating ideas and so on and so forth. Lucy was happy to allow her to take the lead for the other women, remembering that she was one of the most favored ladies in her retinue, at least according to the information the mirror had given her previously.
Lucy's own thoughts were on something else entirely. After learning everything she could and trying to give her plan a concrete shape, this was the first and most important step towards its completion.
She couldn't fail now, killing it in its cradle.
In the glen, behind the mountain …
Honestly, Lucy's plan could barely be called a plan. It was more a spiteful attempt to trick fate, a preemptive strike almost.
If Snow White was destined to return, why not do so under Lucy's terms?
They were riding along a brook winding through the forest, gurgling merrily as if it was laughing at her tightly stretched nerves, birds twittering in the branches above her head to accompany the melody. Follow the stream once you find it, had been the mirror's final direction, simple enough really. But she had been following it for a while now and Lucy was quite unsure how long the Queen's excursions usually stretched but certain that she couldn't keep the ladies cantering through the woods all afternoon.
And just when she started to grit her teeth so hard she felt a click in her jaw, she saw it.
At the edge of that same stream she'd been following, bathed in a shaft of soft sunlight, sat a girl. Hair like black silk fanned across her slim back, her skin gleaming like ivory, painted with a pink blush across her cheeks, complementing the deep color of her lips and down-turned lashes. Her features were as delicate as those of a porcelain doll, perfectly proportioned and formed. She would have looked like an exquisite renaissance painting come to life, if it weren't for the woven basket of laundry next to her while her slender hands were busily scrubbing a pair of small brown boots - twin to six other, identical pairs piled in her lap.
Lucy had frozen, and her mare with her, the animal trained to react to its rider's cues. And just as the mare had been trained, so had the women of court been told to never overtake their queen, to rather fall from the horse and break a leg before allowing someone to ride in front of their monarch. And so they too halted. And once the party of ladies came to a stop, so did the guards, looking at what had caused this abrupt stop.
A dozen horses being pulled to a sudden halt, neighing and stomping their hooves in protest, weren't exactly quiet.
The fairy-like young girl looked up at the commotion, deep, dark eyes widening as she spotted all the strangers in her small clearing. Her eyes flitted over the guards, the adorable blush fleeing from her cheeks, but it was only when her eyes alighted on Lucy that a small scream escaped her lips.
The girl stumbled upright, boots tumbling from her skirts to pepper the riverbank like forgotten toys, trembling hands pressed protectively against her chest heaving in panic. "You - No, how could you have found -"
And then she fainted, crumbling down as if her strings had been cut.
For a few echoing heartbeats Lucy wasn't quite sure what to do. She stared at the still form, the girl she had searched for, the axis on which her destiny turned and wavered, the centerpoint of this whole worldscape …
"Your Grace, did this peasant washwoman cause offense? Shall she be taken to the dungeons?"
"Quiet!" Lucy didn't even have to fake the thrumming band of tension in her voice. Slumped in front of her was the girl who had haunted her nightmares, who had so casually asked for her head, who had watched as Lucy burned and burned …
And she looked so beautiful and innocent, even dressed in faded, coarse linen and with dirtied foam tipping her delicate fingers as if it were a precious adornment, bedded in mud and grass.
Snow White.
Taking a deep breath Lucy forced herself to address the leader of her Guards. "Watch your tongue, lest you lose it. Do you not recognize your own princess?"
There was a second of stunned silence, as though even the crickets hiding in the grass were surprised by her words and then almost on unspoken command everyone in her party turned back to look at the girl again. And truly what they found could not be contested - hair like ebony, skin like snow, lips like blood … But -
"Your Grace," the leader of the Guards was the only one brave enough to speak up. "Her royal highness disappeared almost a decade ago - how can you be sure …?"
"Would a mother ever not recognize her own daughter? Stop stalling, quick, someone check up on your princess, make sure the men's fierce appearance hasn't startled her into illness!"
No one contested Lucy's claim of motherhood, though everyone knew that she certainly wasn't the one who had birthed the princess. But Lucy was the queen and so the princess was her daughter, if only in name. To protest that would be the same as asking for a hangman's noose.
No one dared to step forward for the longest time until a Baroness, lowest ranked among Lucy's retinue and so often tasked with thankless ordeals, came to the front, carefully cradling the girl's wrist as if it were a white snake that might up and bite her. There was a second of silence and then she declared that the princess (and there was only a slight hesitation when she used the title) had simply suffered a fright.
And no one commented on the basket of dirty laundry next to the fainted princess, filled with men's garments, or the assortment of small boots Snow White had been washing.
But no one would easily forget either and Lucy was counting on it.
Shimmering candlelight caught the threats of her gown, unfolding around Lucy like a finely woven trail of glittering scales, as if she herself were a creature of legend, bound to serenade men to their graves, enticing them with her otherworldly beauty. Cold metal curled around her neck and wrists, necklaces and bracelets precious enough to fit a Queen's station and heavy enough to never let anyone forget their presence. Lucy was a vision of gold and glamor, shining like the crown jewel in a hoard of treasure.
And on the other end of the wide hall was Snow White, descending a spiraling staircase, the epitome of innocence and demure beauty. Her black hair was allowed to flow freely, decorated not with precious stones but small flowers, delicate and pure in their appearance. Her gown was light and unadorned but couldn't detract from her figure or appeal, instead enhancing the fact that Snow White didn't need anything to be perfect. No expensive fabric, no eye-catching colors or complicated designs - simply herself.
If Lucy was a piece of dead and dusted gold, then Snow White was the freshness of spring, a gentle nature nymph to contrast Lucy's deadly and sinful siren.
Lucy unfurled her fan, glittering and obnoxiously eye-catching as the rest of her costume, with a harsh flick, using it to hide the lower part of her face. But her lips weren't pulled down in a frown - Lucy allowed herself one, small smile.
A spring nymph would only drown in the cruel torrents of this deep-sea palace.
It had been almost two weeks since Snow White's return to the castle and many things had changed during that time.
When Snow White first woke up, bedded in luxurious down-feather blankets and surrounded by watchful nurses and servants, the girl had panicked. She had screamed to let her go, had cried and said that the Queen wanted her heart and her life, that she would be dead if no-one helped her escape.
But her doting and desperate father wasn't here. There was no king to listen to her claims, only the queen she accused reigning supreme within the castle. And as Snow White could procure no evidence apart from the words of her abductor, it was easy to pass the blame.
When Lucy had first gone to see the awakened girl, she had sat at Snow White's bedside, cradling a cup of morning tea between her fingers. The royal physician hovered behind a screen, in case the princess' panic worsened and her frail constitution endangered her, while the king's advisors were waiting in front of the closed doors, not allowed to see the princess in such a stage of distress but certainly allowed to hear her accusations.
Lucy had invited them to.
Rumors festering in the dark were always much harder to weed out when no-one dragged them into the light and let the merciless heat wither them instead.
And so Lucy never protested Snow White's accusations, only sighed as if her heart hurt and asked why the girl would think so ill of her, when she loved her like her own daughter, grieving her disappearance to this day as if a part of her heart had been missing.
"Stop, just stop!" Snow White's eyes were wide while she stared at Lucy, polished obsidians set in white ivory, the contrast stunning. "You're a liar!"
Lucy allowed the steam of her herbal tea to obstruct her view, still not quite used to seeing Snow White, in the flesh, living and speaking and breathing, right in front of her. A figment of a tale with pumping blood and livid eyes. The figment that was opposite her own figure, the opponent's chess piece, the one that in another time would have spelled her ruin and death.
And now they were sitting together in luxurious chambers dripping with crystals and tapestries, conversing while the refreshing scent of mint spread through the air.
Lucy would grow used to it with exposure, but in the beginning it was still quite disconcerting.
"My child -"
"I'm not your child!"
Lucy sighed again. "Your Highness, please open your heart enough to explain to your Queen Mother why you would think so ill of me. What convinced you that I would ever wish you harm?"
Snow White leaned back as if she wanted to further the distance between them, her paleness turning from unblemished porcelain to something more sickly, tinged with gray around her pressed lips. "You - The man who took me, he said …"
There was a shuddering breath as the girl obviously fought against her memories, long past but never forgotten. "It's only because he couldn't do it that I'm still alive! If he had followed your vile orders I would be gone from this world!"
Lucy allowed one of her long fingernails to clink against the rim of her cup, the clear noise almost pensive. "This man who said he was acting under my orders, what was he supposed to do to you?"
"Don't act like you don't know! You wanted him to - to cut out my heart!"
There was a strum of heavy silence permating the room, an echo to the girl's weighing accusation. Lucy couldn't even hear the rustle of the advisor's clothes anymore.
They must have frozen.
Lucy was quick to move through her own rigid fear, buried deep though it was. She lifted the cup to her face allowing the tea to wet her lips before speaking in a clear voice. "This man will be found, and if I have to overturn the whole kingdom to weed him out, it will be worth it to renew your trust in your mother."
Snow White scowled but Lucy continued before the girl could protest their relationship again. "Once he is brought before us, we will know who is the real perpetrator behind him and who would so brazenly use my name to do misdeeds. Until then you should rest, Your Highness. You are finally home."
When Lucy stepped out of the chambers, she gave a regal nod to the advisors who all bowed in turn. "I dare not involve myself in the politics of this land or the process of justice that my husband upholds with his name and might. Trusted advisors, please act upon your conscience."
And though Snow White never stopped blaming Lucy, there was no trial officially accusing her. Instead men were sent out to scour the kingdom, searching for the bogeyman from a frightened girl's tale.
And though the rumors didn't die out completely, they morphed into fanciful speculations to pass the afternoon leisure instead of growing claws that would drag Lucy into hellfire. Because once one thought about it, the claims really were a bit far-fetched. Would a queen, without any children of her own, abduct the only daughter of her husband, then allow her henchman to unveil her involvement to that same daughter and then let her victim live so she could one day accuse her? And would the Queen herself then be the one to recognize and bring this daughter back?
People laughed and shook their heads and quietly wondered who had been the real villain behind it all, wanting to wound both the princess and the queen with one clever stroke, driving a wedge into the relationship of royal mother and daughter.
And while gazing at the flowering roses in her garden, Lucy could at least be sure that the huntsman, who would have been able to validate Snow White's accusations, was never to be found.
But Snow White was not confined to her bed forever, and though naive, she certainly wasn't dumb. She stopped shouting about the injustice, though she was the only one to never doubt Lucy's involvement. Maybe because it was a belief that she had fostered for the last ten years or maybe it was some inherent mistrust gifted to her by this world that was supposed to protect her from the villainess. But she realized that for now there was no process to be made without her father or the huntsman to back her up, and so Snow White slowly shifted her focus to life at court, integrating herself into a world that was foreign to her despite her blood claims to the highest title.
And suddenly the reins were taken from Lucy's hand. She was delegated to bystander as Snow White herself took over the role of villainess to her own fate, blundering with every step.
Her first misstep happened during a big feast that was held to celebrate her safe return, nobles from all over the land attending to catch a glimpse of this elusive, formerly-missing princess.
And Snow White, the guest of honor, seated at the highest place of prominence, sprung up when the servants entered the hall with the first course and offered to help them.
It was safe to say that Lucy wasn't the only one stunned into speechlessness. Sure, she had known that Snow White was a perfect fairy-tale princess, embodying goodness and compassion. Lucy was aware that Snow White hadn't come into contact with any trace of nobility in the past ten years.
But surely … surely, even so this was ridiculous. A princess offering to carry a bread basket?
For a few seconds no-one knew how to react and then the table revived. Shocked gasps and mean-spirited snickers were barely hidden behind perfumed handkerchiefs as the attending nobles rippled back to life, watching the play Snow White had unwittingly put on. The servants on the other hand looked close to fainting, unsure how they were supposed to act. After all they couldn't deny a princess' request but if they really allowed Snow White to help them bring out the dishes like a common serving wench it would be their necks on the chopping block.
Lucy was not one to let opportunities slip past. "Please excuse my daughter, she is young and pure of heart, all traits of a benevolent and caring ruler. Of course she does not intend to actually assist with such a lowly task …"
"Stop putting words in my mouth! Why are you making me insincere? And where would you be, without all these people doing 'lowly tasks'?"
The servants frozen inside the hall immediately fell to their knees, bowing more deeply than Lucy had seen them before. If Snow White thought she was earning their gratitude for standing up for them, she was deeply mistaken. Because they knew they would be the ones to pay for Snow White's brash claims.
Lucy let them cower for a few long breaths before she gracefully waved a long-fingered hand. "Resume your duties."
The fanciful dishes almost clattered in the haste with which they were put down before the servants fled the hall like mice before a cat, while only those tasked with attending were forced to remain.
Deep down, Lucy felt a slow simmer of discontent, souring her stomach while she watched the sneering nobles all around her.
Lucy wasn't actually the evil queen. She didn't believe she was owed meticulous service or that she was born better than anyone else. If she were allowed to be herself, she would have agreed with Snow White's words, knowing them to be true. A monarchy rested not on the shoulders of its king but on the shoulders of its servants, peasants, farmers, all the little wheels turning so the machine could work. Without them there would be no feast to enjoy and no gowns to wear.
But Lucy was not herself. And so she didn't say anything while Snow White slowly sat back down and the feast resumed, though with an added air of scandal about it.
Lucy absently wondered how this had played out originally. Was the king present at Snow White's first presentation and so better able to shield his daughter, certainly more effectively than Lucy who was parading her around and subtly antagonizing her with every sugary word?
Or was Snow White's future husband so devoted to his new bride that he allowed Snow White all her eccentricities, overthrowing traditional beliefs and systems for her sake?
After all it was a fairytale. No one cared beyond a 'happily ever after'.
But in this reality Snow White was forced to suffer the servants' terror and the nobles' disdain alone. Lucy knew that the princess' behavior reflected on herself as well, talk of bad upbringing and lacking role-models that would cling to her name like dust after this first public presentation. But she didn't care, because while for her it was dust, for Snow White it was dirt.
It didn't remain Snow White's last faux-pas. In the coming days, Lucy was often relegated with the woes of terrified kitchen staff, who found Snow White in their midst, claiming she wanted to learn new recipes - or, even more hair-raising for the cooks, show them her own.
Of course they would never dare let a princess serve them and so Lucy was often called to mediate. Slowly her role changed, though she was still the same devil ruling this certain circle of hell, now she didn't only inspire fear but also relief - because Lucy was the only one in a position that could rein well-meaning and curious Snow White in.
But no matter how often she 'carefully' (ineffectively) reprimanded Snow White, it only proved to antagonize the girl and push her further into her un-ladylike behavior. After terrorizing the kitchens, Snow White switched her focus to the gardens and groundskeepers, enamored by the beautiful flowers growing year-round. And once those servants fled at the mere sight of her presence, Snow White found the stables, fascinated with the horses and cats.
Knowing it would be their fatal fault should Snow White suffer any injury while carelessly invading the horse's space, the stable boy was in actual tears while bowing to Lucy, pleading for mercy.
And Snow White in turn was predictably enraged with Lucy when she forbade her from entering the stables, only slightly pacified when Lucy allowed her to bring a flea-bitten cat into her rooms to keep as a pet. Scratched skirts and dresses teeming with loose cat hair would certainly not help Snow White's standing and then even Lucy was surprised when Snow White actually took the animal to a small afternoon tea Lucy had arranged for a few of her ladies-in-waiting.
Of course it ended in disaster, cat puke on a Marchioness' shoes, seventeen servants chasing a barely domesticated feline through the echoing chamber while all they had left of the tea tray were glittering shards and steaming puddles.
It couldn't have gone better if Lucy had planned it. And so she felt almost idle in her villainous existence, as it was enough to simply leave Snow White free reign.
Lucy knew that she wasn't wholly without responsibility when it came to the princess' current standing. She should have given the girl tutors for etiquette, allowed her a bit more time to find her standing within the castle before throwing her in front of the whole kingdom, admonished her more earnestly after her first missteps while explaining why they were missteps in the first place.
But Lucy clung to the mantle of a Queen who couldn't bring herself to burden the dearly missed princess with any hardships, allowing her to do as she wished.
A too indulgent mother was just as harmful as a negligent one.
And so Snow White's spree of misconduct continued, leading to this first ball of the season. Lucy had dragged the event forward quite a bit, wanting to hold it as soon as possible, before the King's return. She knew that her freedom to act as she wished would disappear as soon as her husband's boots crossed the threshold and she didn't doubt for a second that he would be Snow White's most important ally. Of course the King had been informed via courier as soon as Snow White's identity had been confirmed by her old wetnurse and Lucy knew that he was bound to arrive sooner rather than later, spurred by his wish to embrace his long-lost child.
And maybe he wouldn't be so quick to dismiss his daughter's accusations as everyone else had been.
The ball, which had once been scheduled for later spring as a chance for young ladies to debut, suddenly took place in early spring, when the first sprigs of green were only just unfurling.
Snow White wouldn't yet be presented as a new debutante, as it would be below her standing to share the limelight with other noble daughters. But after Lucy made sure that the preparations for the ball were no secret, Snow White wished to attend, driven by an innocent curiosity and thirst for life that had only proven to hinder her until now.
Especially when Lucy tried to carefully discourage her, only making the girl more determined to go. And so Lucy, plagued with the inability to deny her 'daughter' anything, allowed her to appear now, dressed as a woodland spirit with ethereal beauty.
But this was no mere village festival, where mortals clamored for a glimpse of a fairy girl. This was a royal ball, the first one of the season, attended not by mere men and women, but by sly fox spirits and preening peacocks, decked out in pearls, feathers, satin and fur. And so Snow White's appearance was not a cause of awe but of ridicule. She looked lovely, but in the eyes of the nobles she was no better than a farmer's daughter who had woven common weeds into her hair, scattering the small petals of daisies and bluebells in her wake.
Of course Lucy hadn't forced Snow White to appear as such. She had offered the girl a multitude of fancy gowns, followed by a stream of expensive fabrics from her own stores, trailed by the best seamstress in the kingdom. But Snow White had rejected it all, her disgust for Lucy coloring her decision. She wanted to choose her outfit herself, and once again, Lucy had allowed the girl's every whim.
Maybe in another life, if Lucy hadn't been there to serve as a contrast and to fan the flames, Snow White would have charmed some of the courtiers with her current appearance. Such an unconceited and bright girl, standing out through her modesty and unique wit, clever enough to use what nature so readily provided to enhance her own beauty. Maybe Snow White would have started a new trend among the younger girls, who would be eager to emulate such a pretty princess.
But as soon as Lucy sighed and miniscully shook her head, it was over. Something the Queen deemed this unsightly should not be copied by anyone hoping to remain in her good graces.
And all around her Lucy could hear the gossip that had been attached to Snow White's name rear its head, invigorated by the girl's newest misstep.
"Look at her …"
"Like a wild thing."
"Fitting, considering she was found in the forest."
"Hush! How do you know where she was found?"
"How do you not? The forest isn't even the worst of it."
"Do tell, don't leave us in suspense."
"Why would I risk my neck for your curiosity?"
"What neck, you're risking nothing by talking about her."
"Well, only because I think the truth should always prevail. The princess was found acting as a little peasant wife, washing the clothes of man and child alike."
"No! You mean … in the forest? All those years?"
"Well, how else would she survive? Truly a pity, a princess reduced to such a state. And now look at her here, making the queen despair …"
"Do you think the man …"
Lucy tuned out the little whispers and giggles in her vicinity, picking a flute of prickling champagne off a waiting servant's tray. The stem of the glass fit neatly between her slim fingers, the bubbles of the liquid tickling the roof of her mouth.
On the other end of the great hall Snow White started gliding through the crowd like a swan across a lake - unknowing what the dark waters held in store for her. Lucy watched her with unreadable eyes, the fizzy drink suddenly turning sour in her mouth.
No matter how much the nobility looked down on Snow White, her behavior and her past alike, she was still somehow good. Her antics, while annoying (and truly nightmare-inducing for the servants) weren't evil.
It was almost as if Lucy's determination to bury her strengthened Snow White's position instead, a heroine pushed down by her circumstances, the veritable under-dog, but despite everything she never lost her positive outlook.
No, things wouldn't work the way they were now. Snow White was still unblemished by bad intentions, no trace of gray to be found.
Lucy needed the girl's desperation. She needed to drive Snow White into a corner, where she would be faced with solely bad decisions. So desperate that she committed something that could be considered 'evil'.
And looking at her now, Lucy really had no idea how. Snow White was already as disadvantaged as possible, shunned by her peers and all alone in an unfamiliar castle, her opponent the most influential person around. But still, she remained true to herself.
Lucy had assumed Snow White would fight her more viciously upon her return, she had assumed that the girl would clamor for her execution and upon not getting it, that she would be tempted to take matters into her own hands.
But Snow White was too passive. She loathed Lucy but all that this loathing inspired her to do was rant against her 'mother'. She was almost like every other teen in existence.
Lucy took another sip of her glass, allowing the liquid to soothe her dry throat.
How truly annoying.