Once Upon a Time: The Villains (17 page)

When I noticed my mother had yet to leave, I turned on my side and screamed for all the world to hear. “Be gone, you worthless cow. I do not need you. No one needs you. No one cares about you. Crawl back to the hole from whence you came.”

My mother’s chin rose with hurt dignity. I’d never seen that look cross her face before. It was as alien to me as it was to her. The silence that greeted my torrent slapped at my anger. Finally, she spoke. “I have only ever done what I thought best for you. I’ve made mistakes, but they were made out of love, never envy or spite. Those emotions belong to you. I’ve tried to curb your ways, but your father would never hear of it, and when he died, I hoped for a change of heart. How could I be so naïve? You have no heart to change.

“No more, daughter. From now on, I work for me. Your life is your own. Your mistakes will be forever your own to make. Blame me not when disaster befalls you. I will not interfere again.”

She turned and left, closing the door behind her.

With clenched jaw, I let her go. “Good riddance!” came my reply. I pounded out my feelings onto the mattress, pocking its surface with small dimples that would affect my sleep later on, but I didn’t care. All was her fault, not mine. I was the good one, the precious one. “It’s all your fault,” I sobbed, until at last, I buried my face into the lumpy down, anger spent, eyes finally dry.

Clarity often comes after such storms. I thought of all that had happened to me, of the enchantment given to me on the day of my birth and of the threat now hanging over me that would destroy my beauty. My gaze lifted to the mirror. What if my mother felt regret? What if the witch felt pity? Had either any inkling what a treasure they bestowed on me if the claim bestowed upon the mirror were true?

Though my body ached from the tantrum of emotions that had shaken my body, I slipped out of bed and picked up the crumpled paper. As they say, nothing ventured, nothing gained. Though I knew there was little hope, I smoothed the paper flat and read the striking, bold inscription.

Instructions on the use of the magic mirror.

A magic mirror? Unbelievable. Yet, curiosity demanded a closer inspection of that mirror. My gaze swept its surface. Such an unassuming, uninspiring mirror. Except for the gilt — which was flaking — it would be positively ugly. I backed away and read the instructions.

I lowered the paper and scrutinized the mirror. Surely it was not a magic mirror. How ridiculous. The reflective silver had begun to crackle and chip, leaving permanent marks on its surface. It was an ugly, old mirror, like any other ancient mirror long past its usefulness.

“A magical mirror,” I snorted. “Does she take me for a fool? It’s absolutely silly.” My fingers tightened on the paper. I intended to crumple it and throw it into the fire for good, but then…something in the mirror winked. A fragment of life beyond that which was in my room glimmered. I looked again at the paper. What if it were true?

This would take a bit of fair thinking on my part. Exactly how many requests was I to be granted? And did it only reveal answers or could it make things happen? Wondrous things. Impossible things. I took in a quick breath.

Terrible things.

I knew what I wanted, what my heart burned to happen. With a quick adjustment, I stood in front of the mirror and greeted my reflection with a smile and curtsey. Standing tall, I cleared my throat and said, “Mirror, Mirror shining bright, I wish…” and here I wavered for just a moment. Images of what my mother had done flashed with my head. My eyes grew hard as stone. “…for death to visit my mother tonight.” She deserved no less for what she’d done.

Air suspended in my lungs as I waited. Something shifted. My lungs compressed the air out on a shaky breath. I leaned forward, intent on what I would see. The staccato beat of my heart grew faster. I couldn’t look away, for I was mesmerized by the slow change in the mirror’s surface. My image swirled. Colors blended and grew muddy. The mirror shuddered on the table as if it took a breath. Then, from the murkiness, a pair of black eyes appeared; their soulless orbs captured my gaze.

Magic. The mirror was magic. I couldn’t believe my good fortune. Finally I had something worthy of my interest.

A voice, deep and sonorous, sounded.

“Your request is bold, and filled with hate,

I cannot help your mother join her mate.”

What?

“Cannot?” I asked. No. Surely I heard wrong. I glared at the mirror. “Cannot?”

The mirror eyes narrowed.

“Visions only you can see,

No evil deed has claim to me.”

“Well,” I huffed. “That’s a pity.”

I’d have to think of something else. I took a step away before I caught myself and quickly turned back to the mirror. “Thank you.”

The eyes faded and my blurred reflection returned.

I would be forced to endure my mother’s company longer, but by week’s end I realized my mother had become more shadow than real. She still took in laundry, she still cooked and cleaned, but not a word passed her lips toward me. I confess, I missed the sound of her voice, for I had become accustomed to it, but that soon passed. I had the new mirror to worship me, for it sang my praises from dawn to dusk and even in the middle of the night if I so desired.

Months passed. Rumors spread. Without my knowing, a legend was born. It spoke of a fair maiden whose smile had brought unimaginable joy to those around her. And then, on the day her father died, her smile ceased — forever. A deep mourning had set in, reflecting the devotion she had for her beloved father. Only her true love could break the bondage of sadness that encased her and give her back the smile she’d lost.

What nonsense. But it is amazing who will believe such tripe. I had never been happier, for I knew all that transpired in my village. The mirror became my looking glass into people’s lives. I knew their most intimate secrets. Because of the mirror, I safely knew the face of every woman for hundreds of miles and none were as beautiful as I.

As the weeks passed, my confidence returned. Soon I would grace the populace with my face once again. A smile here and a soft word there, I would be the envy of all. The day of my reappearance arrived. I could already see their faces and hear their words of joy. As I slipped the loop over the last button on my dress, I heard a carriage pull up to the house. Rarely does my mother receive visitors. No one cared a rat’s tail about her. I peeked out between the slats in the shutters and saw the crest of a nobleman grace the carriage door. I frowned. What did a nobleman wish of us?

I rushed to the mirror, and stood before it. “Mirror, mirror, will you see, what a nobleman wants of me?”

An image of a handsome man appeared. A vision of him kissing me as I lie abed shifted over the silvered glass, and then me smiling up at him. The cold, dark eyes reappeared, and the mirror pronounced,

“A handsome man comes, noble and true,

A kiss and marriage he’ll give to you.”

My hand flew to my mouth. “He must have heard the rumor. What should I do?”

I heard the front door open, and my mother’s surprise.

What was I thinking? The mirror had shown me what to do. Quick as a cat, I leapt onto my bed, then back out to stand in front of the mirror. “Thank you,” I spurted out before flopping back onto the bed. Using my reflection, I positioned myself attractively in a reclining position — skirts billowing artfully, hair fanned against the satin pillows and arm placed over my head with my hand vulnerably facing palm up, while the other hand rested gently at my waist — and tested a few soulful faces, choosing one I thought best reflected a daughter’s inconsolable grief.

I closed my eyes, peeking only once. Yes, that was exactly the image of a devastated daughter. I closed my eyes again just as the door to my bedroom opened and my mother, stepped back allowing the nobleman to enter.

He looked at me so long, I was tempted to open my eyes, but I did not. Finally, I heard him sigh. “She is lovely.”

I give my mother credit. True to her word, she did not interfere with my obvious ruse. “I will leave you,” she said and closed the door behind her.

I had never had a man in my room alone. It was an awkward feeling. Indecision swept my thoughts. What do I do now? Should I acknowledge his presence? Should I release a slight moan of despair? Should I turn his way as if reaching out for him in my sleep? How does one snare a kiss from a prince?

I need not have fretted so, for before I could decide, he bent and placed a soft, warm kiss upon my lips.

With the “spell” broken, I could now see exactly what I had. My eyes opened with just the right amount of fluttering to bring his attention fully upon them. I must say, he wasn’t Adonis in the flesh, but he was not all that bad. Dark hair, strong nose, firm lips and square jaw. A handsome visage to be sure, though a bit too tan, and earthy for my tastes, but if the richness of his clothes bespoke of the treasure in this coffers, I would do well to snare this nobleman for my own.

With that in mind, I graced him with my best smile. I knew the instant he was mine, for I had seen that glazed expression settle over so many faces over the years. “My love,” I whispered throatily, as if my voice had been silenced for far too long.

“My one true love,” he replied.

Need I say our wedding was the talk of the town? I had always been a person of prominence in my village, but now I had reached demigoddess status. My nobleman was no ordinary peer, but third in line to the throne, and I intended to see he reached that crown, for I knew now I was born to wear a golden circlet upon my brow.

The wedding was intimate, the guests few, for I could not risk a beautiful, tender-hearted maiden coming from afar to rob me of my beauty and thus steal my happiness. Our honeymoon took us to a remote castle by the sea. It was cold, and dreary, but I was happy. My husband saw to my every need, and I bathed in the attention like a moth to the flame. When he presented me to the royal seamstress, I did not think my love could go any deeper. It did with every type of gown made for me in every color I could imagine. Though I asked for a gown of ice-blue with diamonds, I was given seed pearls instead. The diamonds, I was told, were in the king’s treasury and not accessible to anyone but the king. I felt a tantrum bubble within, yet I tamped it down. I had let it consume me once, and I vowed never to let it happen again. There were better ways to get what one wanted. As I looked at my reflection, I felt a small amount of pleasure. It wasn’t a perfect gown, but it was the prettiest I had ever owned.

It was this gown I wore when we returned to meet the king and queen. May I just say here that they were the most lackluster pair of supreme rulers I’ve ever seen. The king, fat and arthritic, wore his robe with an abominable lack of dignity, and the queen, though by her bone structure could have claimed a passable attractiveness, wore the most dreadful color of algae-green I’d ever laid eyes on and used her snuff box excessively. As I curtseyed, my mind raced with possible ways to see them off the throne — permanently.

But seeing the pathetic excuse for the head of our royal family wasn’t my worst shock of the day. I was glad of that, for my conscience barely gave a twinge at the thought of their coming demise. Nay, the shock that stunned my thoughts happened when my new husband led me to the nursery.

There she was. A baby. Hardly able to walk.

With wide, horror filled eyes, I watched my husband sweep the tiny creature into his arms and goose her under the neck. Her giggles sent horrified shivers down my spine. No one had mentioned there was a child.

He brought her near and presented the girl to me. “And this is Snow White, your new daughter.” He kissed her rosy cheeks and tickled her bare feet.

I allowed a slight frown to pucker my perfect brow. “You have a daughter?”

He didn’t even look my way. His eyes were completely besotted with the smelly toddler. “I’m sure I told you. She is the light of my life.”

One of my eyebrows instantly rose with alarm. “I thought I was the light of your life?”

He laughed as if I were playing an amusing game. “You both are.” Then he tickled her again and said, “Say hello to your new mummy, Snow White.”

Her red lips only gurgled spit bubbles and then smiled at the watery mess she’d made. It was disgusting.

“How about a kiss, then? Can you give your new mummy a kiss?”

Good God, no! I took a swift step back. “Darling, don’t force the poor child. She only just met me.”

A thoughtful frown flashed, and then he smiled. “You’re right.” He handed the toddler to her nanny and slipped his arm about my waist. “Forgive me.” He turned his attention back to his daughter. The loving look he gave her pierced my heart with tiny barbed arrows. This couldn’t be happening. He drew a gentle finger down the child’s face. He couldn’t stop touching the baby. “I guess I’m just excited to know she will not grow up without a mother’s love.”

The shock of seeing the child turned into a smoldering anger. I didn’t let it show. I reminded myself that anger isn’t pretty. Instead, I turned to my husband and placed a loving hand against his cheek. “You are sweetness itself.”

My heart wasn’t in the words. The man had tricked me. I was not prepared for motherhood. I detested children. Only when I was a child could I compete with them. Since I had grown older, and though my beauty had only grown apace, children were the only creatures who could garner more attention than me with their cute and cuddly ways. This little creature may have her father’s attention for the moment, but I was determined to shorten that time to a mere second.