Snow White and the Seven Little Miners (The GriMM Tales #8)

Chapter 1

One

Once upon a time, twenty winters ago, the Queen of Falchovari gave birth to a child, the first and only she ever bore.

His hair was as black as a starless night, his skin pale and soft as fresh cream, and his eyes as blue as a summer sky.

All of the servants agreed that he was the most beautiful baby they had ever seen, and the Queen was very pleased.

She named him Makellos, for he was to be perfection, a flawless gem to emphasize her own beauty.

Queen Schon had ruled Falchovari for almost two hundred years.

Despite the unnatural length of her reign, The Queen was ageless and stunningly beautiful, always in good health, with no wrinkles or age spots.

The bloom of the rose was always upon her cheeks, the luster of gold was in her hair, and the paleness of the moon was upon her skin.

All agreed that she was the fairest, most beautiful person in all of Falchovari.

Despite the beauty that graced her physical form, it was also agreed that inside, the Queen was twisted and ugly and evil.

She cared not for the needs of her people, their appeals for lower taxes, help in growing their crops, or protecting them from bandits or the creatures of the Dark Forest. There were still a few who knew her when she was a young apprentice to a famous sorcerer, but those few were dwindling, and none bothered or dared to stand up to the Queen’s reign.

For a long time, the citizens of Falchovari were content enough to live their lives without much regard for the Queen and her selfish, mysterious ways.

But, for a number of winters now, the kingdom had been struggling.

Food was becoming scarcer and scarcer. Game was not as abundant in the forest. The vegetables in the fields grew sickly and sallow.

The streams that had once overflowed with fish now were barren.

While children starved in the streets, Queen Schon ate lavish meals on shining gold plates and drank wine from goblets encrusted with jewels.

While farmers froze in their homes during the oppressive winters, the Queen had the most beautiful clothing created for her.

Early in her reign, the Queen had enslaved a shadow geist. This was difficult to do and only reinforced the strength of the Queen’s dark magic, instilling fear throughout the land.

She sent him out to deal with anyone who displeased her, dispatching them with brutal efficiency.

If there was talk of rebellion or calls for change, the Queen sent her royal guards, or the Thieves Guild that answered to her whims, or her Shadow to quash any talk of discontent.

It was shortly before all of this that Queen Schon became with child.

She took for herself a lover; a young nobleman, fair of face, said by some to be the most beautiful man in the kingdom.

No one knew how or why she had entranced him into her bed, but no one was surprised either when the fair young man perished under mysterious circumstances in the days after the Queen gave birth to a son.

There was much speculation as to her reason for bearing a child, for the Queen was very vain and had never seemed the maternal sort.

Some thought that she had seen a pregnant woman looking so joyous and radiant that she wanted that brilliance for herself.

Others whispered that the Queen needed a child for purposes of her dark magic.

Still others thought that after so long alone, the Queen was feeling untethered and wanted a child to care for.

The Queen herself never confirmed to anyone the reason behind her choice to finally have a child after so many years, and no one dared to ask.

But even though she had gone through the effort to have a child, the Queen did not care for him as a mother would.

Prince Makellos was a beautiful gemstone in her crown, nothing more than a trained pet or rare treasure to be paraded around and admired.

He was indeed beautiful of face, and his manners were polite and respectful.

He was clever and did well at his lessons, and it was often remarked at how gracious he was.

But no one dared to assume that the boy prince would one day take over the kingdom from his mother. To say so would be considered treason.

Despite the lack of maternal warmth toward him, the little prince grew to have a kind and cheerful heart, especially towards animals.

He loved tending to the horses in the stables, telling them stories as he brushed their coats to shiny perfection or braided their manes with beautiful beads and bows before a big celebration.

The barn cats that kept the rodents at bay would hiss and swipe sharp little claws at anyone else who dared approach them, except for the kind prince.

They would climb onto his lap and purr, bumping his hand to be petted and accepting bites of dried fish from his fingers.

Sometimes in the stables, the boy prince would catch glimpses of Hans, his mother’s huntsman, and sometimes another young servant boy by the name of Red.

Red was slightly older than him, with curious-looking eyes.

Makellos wondered if he and Red could perhaps be friends.

He would have relished a friend close to his own age to play with and get into the sort of mischief young boys did.

But Makellos had seen many of the servants come and go, and he knew not all of them left of their own free will.

The Queen’s temper was legendary, as was her cruelty.

It seemed that every time a servant was kind to him, they would soon be gone.

This hurt Makellos’ heart, losing the few servants that he might consider his friends.

As such, he often ignored Red, barely speaking to him, and retreating to his room when the young man was about.

He had learned early on that his mother did not want him to spend time with the servants.

They were beneath him, she had said. He was a royal prince, and he needed to act like one.

Of course, his only guidance for what royalty should look like was his mother, as there was no king, no nobles, no siblings to turn to for guidance.

He tried aloofness with the servants, the way his mother did, but his heart was too tender, and he often made himself cry from how cruel he felt to those who served him.

He wanted to be gentle and cheery and helpful, the sort of good person that people liked.

He found instead that being solitary and withdrawn kept most of the servants at arm’s length, so that was often what he did, and his quiet reclusiveness only continued as he grew older.

There was only one exception to that self-imposed isolation.

One of the palace servants, Auntie Anne, would often meet Makellos in the kitchen late at night, when the Queen was asleep.

They had originally crossed paths when Makellos was still a youth, sneaking down to the pantry for some apples, his favorite fruit.

That single chance meeting as Auntie Anne had been rolling out the dough for an apple pie had sparked something inside of him, something that excited him.

He discovered through Auntie Anne’s lessons that he loved to cook and bake.

The Queen would have thought those skills to be far below the young prince’s station and might have dismissed Auntie Anne if she had found out, so their meetings and her tutelage were kept a secret only between him and kindly older woman.

Often, Makellos’ attempts at baking were served for breakfast in the morning, with Queen Schon none the wiser as to their origin.

As Makellos grew older and Auntie Anne grew feebler, Makellos would slip into the kitchen on his own at night and make food that he would leave for the servants: all manners of pastries, breads, stews, and other fare, to ensure that it was not wasted.

These excursions in the kitchen were one of his few pleasures in life.

Many would think that being born to royalty, the young prince would have an unending supply of delights and vices.

But the Queen was adamant that Makellos associate as little as possible with the servants, and even less so with the citizens of the kingdom.

The kitchens of the palace became one of his only escapes from his otherwise highly regulated and regimented life.

As a child, he often found himself dirty, as children are wont to do, whether it was smudged ink on his sleeves from his lessons or dirt on his pants from riding horses.

It was unbecoming of a son of the beautiful, vain Queen to be unsuitable in front of any visiting guests, or even the servants.

The final straw for her had been at a grand party for some visiting dignitary when Makellos had arrived inside, covered in hay and dust from the stables.

His mother had scolded him for letting himself be seen in such a state and had ordered him to change.

The young prince had tried so quickly to obey that he got in his own way, tripped, and took down a table full of delicate desserts (several of which he had helped make.) Cream and fruit and pastry went everywhere, covering him nearly from head to toe in sweet, sticky cream.

Everyone had had a good laugh, even Makellos, for who wouldn’t find it funny for a gawky young boy to have whipped cream and blueberries in his hair?