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

25 Years and 11 Days Ago

25 years and 11 days ago:

I had been holding it in since the funeral, but I let the tears flow now, at night when I'm alone in a corner of my bedroom and there was just darkness for company. What had Emerald done to deserve this? It's not fair. In my mind I saw what her life could've been. Maybe she could've been able to escape this noble life. Maybe I could've taken her with me, since Casimir didn't want me anymore, and we could've ran away together. We could've started a bookshop, and we could sit there basking in the sunlight for hours, just me and her and the books. Or maybe we could open a bakery, and on Sundays we could give out cherry tarts to the little children.

But they were just dreams, empty dreams that held no truth. It didn't matter how much I hoped I could change the past. The past could never be changed.

But the future could. You could still escape. Leave everything behind you. 

For a moment I saw myself doing that. Curled up in the corner of my bookshop, waiting for the bell to tinkle, signalling the next customer. I would smile at them. It would be a little girl, with pigtails and large green eyes. I would take her hand into my own, and weave through the intricate maze of bookshelves, pinpointing the exact book she wanted. It would be a fantasy book, with a ferocious dragon and a princess who falls in love with the knight who saves her.

And I would give her a piece of candy before she left, and she would look at it with wonder in her eyes and a large grin on her face. She would skip out of the shop with the book clutched to her chest and I would retreat back into my corner and open another book.

And I would glance up at the empty spot beside me where Emerald would've sat. And I would think whether she would be there if I haven't visited her that day, or if I didn't get in trouble with my father, or if...

No, I couldn't. I knew that if I left now, I would only be plagued by visions and empty dreams of what could've been. There was nothing I wanted anymore.

That's not true. Forget. I wanted to forget. I wanted to forget that I ever cared, because maybe then it'll stop hurting. Stop caring. Stop hurting.

I wrapped my arms around my legs and rocked gently back and forth. Stop caring. Stop hurting. Stop caring. Stop hurting. I thought, until it became a lullaby.

Stop caring. Stop hurting.

25 years and ten days ago:

I was in a dark room, with only moonlight from an open window lighting up the room. "Amethyst..." A velvety voice whispered, like a siren they see on a beach. It was luring, drawing me towards it though my feet stayed rooted to the ground, and it sent blissful tingles down my back. My heart beat erratically, and I shivered as strong hands travelled down my sides to rest on my hips. Slowly he turned me around, and his stunning azure eyes met mine. Soft lips crashed into mine. I moaned, pressing myself against him.

"Casimir," I gasped.

His hand caressed my waist, then up my back until it cupped the back of my head. Pulling me towards him, his lips left mine and traced down the curve of my neck. I was almost convulsing under his overwhelming touch, he was pushing me, tipping me over the edge and into oblivion.

I whimpered, wanting to press closer into him, wishing there was nothing, nothing between us at all. "I love you," I breathed, biting back another moan when my mouth tasted his again. "Casimir, I love you."

I waited for him to return the words, but he stayed silent. "Casimir?"

He had left my side and I panicked, wanting to feel him against my body again. Then I saw his eyes, they were blank, empty, once full of fire and life and now with only a veneer left behind. "Casimir?" I reached over towards him but I fell into nothing, nothing, nothing...