Twenty #3
Snow felt warm all over, aware that Der had slipped his hand into his and squeezed it tightly, and that Grim was still watching them from the nearby table.
He had a good heart; the fairest, the mirror had said.
Even should he not be king, he was still a good person, which was enough for him. “Thank you,” he said to the mirror.
There was a sudden sharp creak and snap from the area of the door they had entered.
Snow looked up to see Queen Schon in the doorway, resplendent in a gown of deep purple, her gold, bejeweled crown atop her perfectly coiffed hair.
The perfection of it was countered by the look of absolute rage marring her beautiful face as her blue eyes surveyed the wreckage of her magic.
“What have you done?” The sound was unlike any he had ever heard from his mother, her melodious tone now a feral-sounding growl through clenched teeth.
He thought that, in that moment, if his mother had been able to transform into a creature with massive claws and fangs, she would have and would then have ripped him into tiny pieces.
For just a moment, he was afraid. This was a woman who had killed him once before.
Who had destroyed the lives of his lovers and their families.
Had laughed while children cried and died of hunger in the streets.
She was not to be underestimated, for her cruelty knew no bounds.
But then he felt Der and Grimwald straighten up on either side of him, strong as massive oak trees.
They were ready to fight for him. For this kingdom.
For everything they had lost. For everything they might lose again.
He would not let them down, and he would not allow this awful, heartless woman to bring further harm to them.
“Hello, Mother,” he said, giving her an impish little smile, though his voice trembled just the tiniest bit. “You are looking beautiful as always.”
“Makellos,” the Queen growled, the sound low in her chest like that of bear or tiger.
Snow held up the shimmering glass vial in his hand so the Queen could see it.
“Is this what you drink every day?” His voice was a bit steadier now.
He could hear her inhale, see the flicker of recognition in her blue eyes.
She swept her cold gaze over the shambles of her potions, the broken glass upon the floor and the shimmering layer of her ground gemstones that coated it.
“I seem to have broken the large bottle. I always was so clumsy, wasn’t I? ”
“You impudent little fool,” Schon said, narrowing her eyes at him. “What game are you playing at?”
“No game,” Snow said. “But this does appear to be the last of it.”
“And the miners have gone on strike,” said Der suddenly.
Grim took a step forward on his other side, his dark eyes full of murderous rage. “You ain’t gettin’ another swing of a pickaxe from any of us, unless it’s through your skull.”
The Queen’s countenance suddenly morphed.
She straightened up, lifted her chin, and gave Snow a familiar cold look down her regal nose, a bemused chuckle escaping her lips.
“Oh, my. Look at your gallant defenders, Snow White. Together, they very nearly make a whole man. How simply adorable.” Her voice had returned to its usual musical coo, dripping with venom.
She stepped fully inside the chamber, between them and the door.
“Well now. Here we are. No guards, no games, no disguises. Just mother and son, and a few… minor problems to be eliminated.”
Snow took a deep breath, his heart hammering in his chest. “I’ll smash it,” he threatened, giving the vial a shake so the silver liquid sloshed and gleamed. “And you will not be able to make more without your precious jewels.”
Schon laughed. “Oh, my dear, do you think I will not find others to work the mines? I can be quite persuasive.”
“I have an idea,” said Grim with a sly little smirk up at Snow.
“You should drink the potion, your highness. You are already fairer than your withered old hag of a mother. You have even defeated death. And every day you will become more beautiful, while the ugly old Queen fades away and is forgotten.”
“What a lovely idea!” Der said. “I like it.”
“I like it as well,” Snow said, turning his sunny smile upon them both. He held up the bottle even as his heart beat a tattoo in his ears.
“You shall never be fairer than I!” the Queen screeched, flinging herself across the space at Snow.
Her fingers, nails sharp as claws, extended in a grasp.
For his face or for the bottle, he did not know.
He only knew when the Queen’s nails raked across his cheek in a path of fire.
His head snapped to the side, taking his body with it, and he went sprawling on the stone floor.
The impact caused the vial to fly from his hand and hit the floor with a ring like a funeral bell, and his heart nearly stopped.
If the cork had come loose or the vial had shattered, they would be done for.
“Snow, are you all right?” Grim asked as the Queen stumbled past them and dropped to hands and knees to scoop up the gleaming container from the floor.
“Yes,” Snow said, pulling his hand away from his cheek to see several droplets of bright red blood on his fingers. His head pounded, and his cheek stung, but he didn’t care right now. All that mattered was the vial.
Queen Schon laughed, the sound low and menacing as she rose to her feet, brushing off her majestic purple dress with one hand.
She held up the vial in the other, and Snow was relieved to see the stopper still in place.
He pushed himself up to his knees, reaching up a hand desperately, though she was far beyond his grasp.
The Queen flicked off the cork top with a long, elegant finger, and it went rolling across the floor.
She raised the vial to her blood-red lips, giving Snow a self-satisfied smirk as she opened her mouth and swallowed the shimmering contents in one gulp.
Snow could see the mouthful flow down her throat like a snake swallowing a mouse.
Then the Queen dropped the vial to the ground.
It shattered into a thousand little glass particles, and the Queen ground her foot on top of it until it was nothing but dust. “Poor little prince,” she cooed, her ruby lips curving into a smile as sweet as lemons.
“You tried so hard to escape me, but it’s too late now.
You and your deplorable little beasts will never live to see another sunrise.
You could never become fairer than I. You are just a shadow, a reflection in the mirror, a-”
Queen Schon suddenly froze, one hand flying to her stomach, the other pressing to her breast above her heart. Her icy features went slack, her already pale face seeming to drain of all color entirely. “What… what is happening?”
Makellos smiled as he pushed himself up to his feet with assistance from Der and Grim. “Where do you imagine the rest of the poisoned apple you used on me went, Mother?”
Schon looked at him with wide eyes, her inky pupils nearly blotting out the blue. “What did you do?” she hissed.
Makellos straightened his back, as he had always been told to do when addressing anyone.
A bead of crimson blood from his cheek landed on his white collar and immediately faded away.
“I should be surprised that you did not notice the smell of apple in your potion, but I suppose that speaks to the talent of those who formulated it, as well as the greed with which you consumed it.” Der straightened his back proudly at that.
The Queen snarled, anger replacing fear on her sculpted face.
“You ungrateful, disgusting whelp! How dare you!” She snatched up the potion book from the tabletop, fumbling its heavy cover with shaking hands.
She frantically turned the mouldering pages, ripping many of them in her haste and incoordination.
“There is an antidote, Mother. You know that,” Makellos said, watching her with a devious smile.
“The poison may be reversed by True Love’s Kiss.
But there is no one who truly loves you.
Even I, your own flesh and blood, do not have enough love in my heart to reverse the magic you have inflicted upon yourself. ”
The Queen dropped the book with a heavy thunk, stumbling against the table, sending bottles and bowls sloshing and spilling. Der and Grim still held their positions firmly in front of Makellos, sturdy as stone statues, as Schon turned to him again, her face gone a ghastly shade of gray.
“And so,” Makellos continued, “you shall sleep. You shall sleep in your grave amongst the rot and worms, as the kingdom recovers from your spite and cruelty. You shall sleep until the world forgets that you ever existed and the walls you built have crumbled into dust.”