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

25 Years and Six Days Ago

25 years and six days ago:

I walked through the hallway, after an uneventful breakfast with a few visiting duchesses. Frankly, I thought their conversations were a bore. It was all about the latest trends, the best-looking dukes, lords, princes. Do they know that the love of my life had all but forgotten I existed? Do they know that my sister is buried in the earth now? I started thinking about her sweet voice, her tinkling laugh.

Deep breaths, Amethyst. Just don't think about it. Stop caring, stop hurting. I closed my eyes, and leaned against the wall, trying to compose myself. After a while I opened the door and walked into my room, then I shrieked when I nearly stepped on something.

A dummy lay sprawled on the floor, its raven-black hair and red dress leaving no doubt as to its identity. It was me. The handle of an elegant dagger protruded from my stomach, and a reeking pool of blood stained my bedroom floor, flies accumulating around it. My fake, lifeless eyes stared up at me, the carved mouth stretched into a scream that will never sound. Worst of all, I recognised the elaborate carving on the handle of the dagger, the refined curve in the handle, the beginnings of a silver-white blade. I recognised it because I gave it to him myself a few months ago.

The dagger belonged to Casimir.

Hours later, I was curled up in my bed, a consoling Ronnie beside me. I couldn't help but glance at the bloodstain that had leached into the floorboards and could not be scrubbed away. The blood was real, the maids had told me, very real, but probably the blood of an animal, chicken perhaps. I reached up to brush away the tear I thought would be on my cheek, but my fingers came away dry. I started to feel rage build up beneath my skin. Evelyn was a witch. There was no doubt about that anymore. And that dummy was a threat. That was certain, too. But I also know that if Evelyn thinks she can push me around like everyone has been doing my whole life, then she is very mistaken.

24 years, 11 months, and one day ago:

"Emerald!" I screamed, but my voice choked in my throat and only a gasp came out. I was chasing her through an endless maze of rose bushes, the crimson flowers like countless leering evil heads, and wicked thorns tearing and biting into my skin like the hooks on a whip. Every time I thought I could grab her arm, she would dance slightly out of my reach, giggling teasingly. I needed to warn her. Of what, I wasn't entirely sure, but we were both in danger. I wheezed for breath, surprised when I found that there seemed to be less and less of it. My mind was fuzzy as I tried to gulp in what air was left. I dropped down to my knees. I couldn't breathe.

In the back of my mind I heard a chanting. It was Evelyn's voice. The chanting continued, hauntingly melodic, and the rose bushes started to quiver to the beat of the song-like chant. I watched as they started to float, lifting off the ground, and they rose higher and higher into the air and started swirling into a tornado of red and green. Wind buffeted my hair and clothes and I looked around frantically, until in the center of the chaos, I saw Emerald's slim frame. I tried to shout her name once again, but I heard only the shriek of the wind and the rustle of leaves. Gathering the last of my strength, I crawled towards her. My lungs burned from lack of air. My vision blurred. And then I was there, reaching out of her. Opening my mouth to call her name...

Then she turned around, and it wasn't Emerald, it was Casimir, and his blank eyes met mine as he reached down and grabbed me by my throat, effortlessly lifting me up and plunged the dagger into my stomach. I slumped, uncomprehending, staring at the pool of liquid at my feet that was red, so red.

I awoke with a scream, with sweat trickling down my back. I sat up, panting and blind in the darkness of my room. I buried my face in my hands, trying to get my heart rate to slow down.

I think red was no longer my favourite colour.

24 years, three months and 15 days ago:

A strangled shout woke me up from my dreams. I heard the commotion outside my door, so I hopped off my bed, slipped my feet into slippers, and quickly ran outside. I looked left and right to see servants running towards the stairs. The castle was cold, sending unpleasant chills down my spine. I followed the servants up and through the cold hallway, towards the chaotic orchestra of high and low voices and right into... the king's chamber.

Above the clamour I heard the deep voice of a guard. "Stay back!" He roared. I ignored him and pushed my way through the crowd of gaping men and women in nightgowns to the front. The king was limp on the floor, his neck blue and bruised. Kneeling beside him were two healers, no doubt the best in the kingdom, and Casimir was gripping his hand tightly. Evelyn was standing nearby, her head bowed with respect. The assassin was nowhere to be seen.

Oh Gods. I couldn't believe it. My mind was scrambled as it worked to comprehend what was happening.

I surveyed the scene once more before I realised that something was wrong. Only four people in this room did not seem shocked and upset in some way. The first was the king (he looked, unfortunately, kind of dead). The second two were the healers, who were prodding at the king with grim determination. And the last was Evelyn, because although her mouth was set into a thin line to hide any emotion, her eyes were glinting with victory.