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

20 Years and Three Days Ago

20 years and three days ago:

I stared out the window at the growing dawn light. I tried my best not to think about the letter from last night. I had only read it over once, but it felt like every single word was forever ingrained in my mind.

I must begin by apologising.

My wife, the Queen, has been a tremendous help in handling courtly and political affairs.

Please simply walk in before sunset tomorrow night.

Love, Casimir.

Casimir.

Casimir.

It was always Casimir.

I didn't want to think about it. So I tried my best to listen to the pull in my gut, the urge to leave this bursted bubble of safety and peace. Back to the palace. Back to where it all started, to finish it. Back to where I had been trying to leave behind for some long.

"I guess I'll be going, then." I finally said to Veneficia, who was bustling about stacking books. She made an "mhmm" sound at the back of her throat and continued shuffling around, arranging her thick leather-bound books.

A heavy thump sounded in front of me and I looked up to see a pile of three books which Veneficia had dropped onto the table. "These will help you." She nodded towards the three books. "Wherever you end up." She added, muttering.

I picked each of the books up and examined the titles. The Complete Guide For a Beginner Witch was the first, a worn maroon book. The second book was called The Art of Seeing, with the image of an eye and two hands surrounding it in an intricate symmetrical design. I had briefly read these two, but not in much detail. The third book caught my eye the most, bound by a black leather cover, titled The Sorceror's Collection of  Potions and Poisons. The golden ink of the title shone darkly under the first rays of morning sunlight. I traced my fingers over the elegant letters, a shiver running down my spine. I flipped through it, noticing the scrawled notes in the margins in Veneficia's distinctly sharp, scribbled handwriting.

"Thank you." I said sincerely to Veneficia, slamming the cover shut as I tried to quell the chills sending goosebumps down my arms. The last book seemed to me like it was singing out my name, although that sounded ridiculous once I thought about that. It was just a book, after all. Stuffing them into an old cloth sack, I watched as she slid a mirror in front of me next. "This is a mirror with a thin layer of crystal." She explained. "You can use it just like a crystal ball. Since—" She erupted into a fit of fake coughing— "The only spare crystal ball I had somehow cracked."

I dipped my head in embarrassed apology and took the opportunity to look at the mirror. It came with a silver string so it could be hung on a wall. It was small, only slightly larger than my face, and rectangular-shaped, with simple swirls of dark metal bordering the polished glass. I squinted at the carvings: they were vines and leaves, but instead of flowers, it was adorned with faces. I peered closer and saw their peaceful expressions, as if captured in an eternal slumber.

"It's beautiful," I whispered. She nodded.

I got up and went around packing to give something for myself to do, even though I didn't bring many possessions with me here. Finally, I decided not to stall any longer. I cleared my throat.
"I'll be going now."

She didn't answer, not looking up from the stew she was brewing in her cauldron. It was a shiny lime-green. I was used to her silence now and took it as a sign that she had nothing more that needed to be said. She was not the kind of woman to waste her breath, I had come to realise.

I opened the door and was about to leave when I gazed back.

"Thank you. For everything."

She mumbled, "Mmm-hmm." I guess I wasn't one to waste my breath either, so I left without looking back.

I stepped out of the carriage, feeling the cool twilight air on my face. The homes of aristocrats and the palace itself was gleaming with light at its windows like they were dozens of square and rectangular mouths breathing fire.

I slowly walked up to the gates. Was I anxious? Angry? Indifferent? Excited? I think I was a mix of all that. And tired, very tired. Casimir needed my help. I reminded myself. I had to do this. For the good of everyone.

Entering the parlour after the guards opened the door, I was struck with how empty everything seems, even with servants bustling around. Day after day, the sun sets, the stars shine. The moon grows and shrinks, grows and shrinks. Leaves fall, leaves grow, and the crooked trees bear fruit as sweet as honey. It never ends, none of it ever does, but the people fade until they are less than a memory. The people are the only things that end. When you think about it, none of this matters. Nothing ever does.

What I do didn't matter. What I say. What anyone says. Because in the end people always forget, if not forgive. So I wouldn't let anyone and their precious, fragile feelings stop me. I was astounded that I hadn't realised this sooner, this simple fact that nothing matters except for myself. Casimir was not important. Neither was Evelyn. Just me, and only me. And my happily ever after. Because I deserved it and I would do anything it took to get it.

I am jerked back into reality by a gasp from a servant. I vaguely recognised her as a lady-in-waiting of Queen Evelyn. She tried to hide the surprise on her face, and we just stood there staring at each other for several seconds. Then she turned and ran up the stairs.

I grinned at her retreating back. "Oh yes." I chuckled, to no one in particular. Scamper and run all you like. Hide while you can. This time, nothing will be able to stop me. "I'm back."

19 years, 11 months and 20 days ago:

I didn't know how long I had been standing there, staring at the mirror that was given to me by Veneficia. I was back in my room in the palace, with the mirror already hung up on a bare spot on the wall. It shone eerily in the candlelight, each curve in the carvings reflecting silver light.

I looked the same, with my long raven hair curling down to my waist, brown eyes and caramel skin. But the person on the inside was a stranger to me. Who was I? I was not just a witch, I was not just an aristocrat, and I was not a peasant either. I was nobody's daughter, nobody's sister, nobody's friend, nobody's lover. I didn't belong in this palace, and yet I didnt belong in the villages either. I was nobody and I couldn't find a place in this world.

I stared at my reflection, at the stranger in the skin of the old me.

Who was I?