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

24 Years, Two Months and 29 Days Ago

24 years, two months and 29 days ago:

"Don't tell anyone," I began. This was the most effective way to make sure the rumour gets out.

It was teatime, and I was sitting in a circle of frilly couches and chairs with eight other duchesses. I could see at least four maids half-invisible in the room, listening in. Good. Looking back at the duchesses, my stomach turned in disgust. They were all frivolous, vain, petty, spoiled, selfish beings. And yet, they could all be counted on one thing.

"I've heard that the new Queen is..." I paused, for suspense. 

Sure enough, the duchesses all worked their silly selves up in excitement. "What is it?"

"Have you noticed that she's kind of... weird?"

"Oh, yes!" "Definitely!" They all voiced their agreement. No doubt most of them only agreed to avoid making themselves look bad. I continued.

"I was taking a walk this other night, and when I passed her bedchamber, I saw an eerie green light from inside." My voice was barely a whisper, and they all leaned in to listen.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Someone else said. I think her name was Katherine, and as always, she wore multiple pieces of heavy jewellery in her hair. "This other day I saw her walking from the woods, and she was chanting under her breath." That was certainly false, but I wasn't about to complain.

"She thinks she's better than any of us. I've seen her..."

"I think she's a witch." Announces Jane, a bit nervously. I let out a breath. There, someone has said the the piece of truth I've been trying to get them to see.

"I think so too." "She has to be!" "There's no doubt!"

I smirked. Now all I had to do was to wait and watch this bit of news flood to every corner of the palace.

Evelyn could have all the evil forces in the world helping her, but she has no idea how things work here.

24 years, two months and four days ago:

 I looked up at the stars in the sky. "Casimir." I whispered. The wind blew my voice away, carried it to somewhere far away. Casimir. The new King. I guess the last few months must have been hard on him. It's hard to lose someone you love, I know because I've experienced it. I ignored the clench in my heart when I thought that. Stop caring. Stop hurting. 

I had tried my best to comfort him, but no matter what I did, it wasn't enough. If the person he needed was Evelyn, so be it. Maybe everyone needs a special someone sometimes... Even if that special someone was a witch and she might have killed your father. The thought of Evelyn and her evil smile made my blood boil, and I dug my nails into my palms. 

I squeezed my eyes shut and wiped it all from my mind. Stop caring. I let myself believe that everything was alright. Opening my eyes, I looked up again, and I imagined that every star was a laugh I once shared with Casimir, far away and yet shining brightly at me. "Casimir." I whispered again. "I loved you. I still love you. Do you know it, Casimir, or are you too blind to see it?"

30 years, ten months and 16 days ago:

I was only twelve that night. We were eating dinner, just my father, my mother, Emerald and I. Emerald was only five, and she was waving her fork around, I remember. My mother was scolding Emerald, but she had a good-natured smile on her face.

 I remember. I loved my mother. She was beautiful, and her smile was a glow that could light up the world. She would take me out into the forest when I was tired of my studies, and we would pick flowers for hours and hours. Then we would just sit there, faces turned up towards the sun, and listen to the music of the forest: the chirps, the rustles, the gushing of a nearby stream. Sunlight would drip like honey through the gaps in the leaves, and the gentle wind would blow our ebony hair together so you could no longer tell them apart. 

But that night, there was a storm outside our mansion walls. The mansion creaked, and the candles flickered as though quivering at the howls of wind. Emerald was not scared, she was never scared of storms, I remember. She just went on banging her cutlery on the soup bowl. My eyes fell on my mother, next to her. She was watching us with the hint of a smile tugging at her lips. Her head bent a little to sip the soup. She swallowed. It was only a few seconds after that, I remember, when she froze. The smile left her lips. She was staring at my father, choking on the words she was trying to say, but only gurgles came out. 

I remember. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head. I remember. She slumped forward, her head banging into the table. I remember. Her hair fell out of her elegant bun, slipping into her soup. I remember. One thought echoed in my mind: I'll never see her smile again. I remember. The family doctor, one of my father's oldest friends, said that she had been struck down by the devil. I remember. Her hand had been reaching out across the table, and her fingers were puffed up and a bright, unnatural red. I remember, I remember, I remember.

I want to forget.