Not the Villain - The Evil Queen's Retelling of Snow White

25 Years, One Month, and Two Days Ago

25 years, one month, and two days ago:

I stepped out of the carriage and continued up the familiar path to the large estate with a small smile on my face lingering, as if it were only a ghost, an echo, a memory. The trees on either side of the building had grown a little since I was little, and so has the ivy trailing down the auburn bricks, bedecked with delicate violet flowers. This was the home of the Duke William Harrison Bernards the Fourth. The home of my father.

The ghost of a smile turned into a grin when I thought about Emerald. I would be able to see her again today. Since I had been abandoned by the prince, I had been toying with the notion of running away with Emerald. We could go somewhere far away from the prying glares of society, and live a quiet life. I was sick of the nobles, I was sick of wearing that extravagant mask I created for myself in order to keep my head above water in this sick world. I was sick of it, all of it, but we could escape. Just she and I. Leave everything behind.

I knocked on the door, and a servant opened it. I recognised him: Arnold. From the looks of things, Father was hosting one of his dinner parties again. I understood most of the politics of our kingdom, however erratic and unpredictable it may be, and I knew that dinner parties were a good way to climb up the social ladder.

Growing up, I had been required to attend countless dinner parties hosted by my father.

I slipped into the ballroom. Sure enough, hundreds of people in vivid-coloured gowns and outfits filled its floors. I mingled into the crowd, looking for one person in particular. In the middle of it all I saw the woman I was ordered to call Mother. Her name was Dahlia. She wasn't a horrible woman, really, just vain, spoiled, and generally clueless unless it came to clothing or jewellery. She was nice, really, and I avoided her whenever I could only because she and my father had wed the day after my mother's funeral.

There. I located her small frame, facing away from me, in a light green dress that swirled around her ankles. Her raven hair cascaded in waves down to her waist, much like mine. There was a green ribbon in her hair, the silk one that I gave to her many years ago.

I finally reached her and tapped on her shoulder. "Emerald! Surprise!"

My sister spun around. The large, emerald eyes which she was named for met mine and she broke into a smile. "Amy?"

Then the smile turned into a frown. Her eyes grew large. Something was wrong.

"Amy." Her voice lowered into a murmur that I could barely hear over the gaudy blather of the crowd. "Amethyst, I have to tell you something..."

I never got to hear what she was about to tell me, because a heavy palm dropped onto my shoulder, pressing me down like a dark cloud. My heart dropped. I had hoped that I could visit Amethyst without encountering my father, but that hope seemed bleak now.

"Amethyst. Aha! So you have come back..."

Later, after all the guests had begun to disperse, my father gestured to me. "My study?" He beckoned for me to join him. It was really more of a command than a question or invitation. I was obligated to follow him with my head slightly bowed.

On the way there, he told one of the servants scurrying around that he was not to be bothered in his study, no matter what they heard. I should have visited Emerald secretly. A cold fear was gnawing at my stomach. Quickly, I searched my mind for anything I might have done wrong, anything that would incite a reprimanding.

We reached his study, which was really more of a library, with rows upon rows of books and one large desk in the corner. The books were for the most part untouched, purely for display, for my father was rarely a reader. The actual library, which occupied an entire floor, had probably only been used by Emerald ever since I left, even with the innumerable occupants, guests and staff residing within these walls.

"Ladies first." He opened the door for me with a smile on his face. The smile didn't reach his eyes, they never did. I was hesitant, wanting to do nothing more than to flee, but from experience I knew that disobedience would only result in added discipline.

We entered, and I turned around to see him close the heavy oak doors, gently but firmly.

The room was dark, so he lit a candle on his desk, a small, flickering, orange light that only seemed to make the shadows grow.

"Amethyst." He murmured, and he advanced towards me. I quickly took several steps backward, only to find my back bumping against a wall. The cold fear had turned into a trembling monster inside me, and I struggled to maintain control over it.

"Amethyst, Amethyst, Amethyst..."