The Wicked Queen reigned her kingdom with an iron fist. The entire kingdom was terrified of from whence her next beheading may appear. They grieved the loss of their princess, Snow White, for they saw that it was her presence that had kept the Wicked Queen from showing the full extent of her true wicked colours. But should the Wicked Queen hear any signs of grief for their perfect princess she would order a National Day of Beheading, so inwardly they wept, whilst going about their daily routine as had been ordered by the Wicked Queen.
The Wicked Queen knew she wasn’t a popular queen. She couldn’t fully understand why this was as she was so incredibly beautiful, and what more did a woman need? One evening, as she was brushing her long dark hair 1000 times as she did every night before bed, and admiring herself in the golden mirror she sighed. ‘Mirror mirror on the wall,’ she whispered, ‘who’s the fairest of them all…?’ To her surprise, the mirror started to glow. Brighter and brighter it glowed, emitting an eerie green light. Suddenly there was a great flash, and the Wicked Queen was looking into eyes that were not her own. A ghost-like androgynous face had appeared in the mirror. It spoke. ‘Your Majesty,’ the Wicked Queen was startled,’ there is one fairer than thou art.’
‘Lies!’ spat the Wicked Queen. ‘Who could possible be fairer than I? Look at me!’ It should be noted that the Wicked Queen was more shocked by the mirror’s revelation than by the mirrors ability to make a revelation.
‘Her lips are ruby red, her hair is black as ebony,’ the Wicked Queen stiffened.
‘No, don’t say it.’
‘Her skin is white as snow,’ continued the mirror.
‘Snow White,’ the Wicked Queen and the mirror uttered together.
‘No! Snow White is dead. You are a fool, mirror. You know nothing. Leave me now,’ the Wicked Queen commanded.
‘Know this,’ said the mirror in a hushed voice, ’you have been tricked, Your Majesty. You are not the fairest in the land for Snow White lives.’
‘I have her heart!’ bellowed the Wicked Queen.
‘You have the heart of a sow,’ scoffed the mirror. The Wicked Queen processed what the mirror had said.
‘Nooooooooooooooooo!’ she screamed. ‘Fetch me the Royal Huntsman!’ No one dared tell the Wicked Queen that the Royal Huntsman had run away after Snow White’s death. Finally, having drawn the short straw, the Royal Chef arrived, quivering and cowering. ‘Your M-M-M-Majesty,’ he stammered, ‘the Royal Huntsman is m-m-m-missing.’
‘Of course he is,’ sighed an exasperated Wicked Queen. ‘If you want something doing, do it yourself, as they say.’