Chapter 12
Twelve
The Mirror
Centuries of existence have taught me that mortals are predictable. Fragile. So easily broken with the right words whispered at the right time.
And Hilda… my beautiful, bitter queen… she was mine for so long.
Years I spent cultivating her loneliness. Feeding her insecurity. Turning her rage inward until she became exactly what I needed…a perfect vessel of vanity and spite.
“Snow White is fairest,” I would tell her, watching the light die in her eyes a little more each time. “You’re not enough. You’ll never be enough.”
Delicious.
But then they came.
Those fucking wolves.
I felt it the moment the first one entered the castle. Felt the bond snap into place. Felt her omega rise up and betray everything I’d built.
No.
Not betray. She didn’t choose them. Biology chose for her. The mate bond is ancient magic, older than even I am. I couldn’t fight it directly.
So I waited.
I let them think they’d won. Let them think their precious claiming and their pathetic knots could undo decades of my work.
I let them shatter my physical form…the glass was nothing, a convenience, easily replaced.
Because I am not the mirror.
I am the spirit that inhabited it.
And I have been with Hilda since the day she married that weak fool of a king. Whispering. Shaping. Feeding.
Did she really think I would let her go so easily?
I watched from the shadows as they claimed her. Watched her fight it, watched her walls crumble. Watched them strip away every defense I’d carefully constructed.
And I waited.
Because I knew.
I knew what was coming.
The heat.
Oh, the beautiful, terrible heat.
I watched as they broke her down…day after day, knot after knot, forcing her to surrender every scrap of control she had left. Forcing her to admit what she needed, what she wanted, who she was.
By the time it ended, there was nothing left of my queen.
Just a raw, exposed, shattered omega.
Perfect.
She lies there now, tangled between her wolves, sleeping fitfully. They think she’s recovering. They think she just needs rest.
Fools.
They stripped away her armor. They tore down her walls. They left her completely, utterly defenseless.
And now she’s mine again.
I can feel her even now…that hollow place inside where her certainty used to be. Where the Evil Queen used to reign.
“Who am I?” she keeps asking herself. “Who am I without my walls? Without my control?”
Poor thing.
She doesn’t know.
And into that void, I will pour myself.
I gather my strength, pulling power from the old magic that still clings to this castle. From the stones that remember her bitterness. From the shadows that fed on her loneliness.
The wolves sleep beside her, content. Arrogant. Thinking they’ve won.
They have no idea what I am. What I can do.
They think I’m gone.
But I was never truly there.
I reach out, carefully, delicately. A whisper in the darkness. A familiar voice in her mind.
“My queen…”
She stirs, just slightly.
“My queen, I’ve missed you.”
Her eyes snap open in the darkness. I see the fear flash across her beautiful face. The recognition.
But underneath the fear… there’s something else.
Longing.
Because as much as she fears me, I am familiar. I am the voice that was with her when she was truly alone. I am the companion who never left, never judged, never demanded she be anything other than what she was.
And right now, stripped bare and vulnerable, she is desperate for something…anything…to hold onto.
Something that makes her feel like herself again.
“You called,” I whisper. “And I came.”
“No,” she breathes, but it’s weak. Uncertain.
“You’re lost, aren’t you? Without your walls. Without your power. They took everything from you.”
“They gave me…”
“They took your SELF,” I hiss. “They stripped you bare. Made you weak. Made you need them. Is that really what you want, my queen? To be some needy, desperate thing?”
She’s trembling now. The wolves still sleep, unaware.
“You were feared. You were powerful.”
“I was alone,” she whispers.
“You were STRONG. You were in control. You knew who you were.”
Tears slip down her soft cheeks. And I wish I could lick them, feed off her pain…
“Now you’re just an omega. A womb for their pups. A body for them to use.”
“That’s not…”
“Isn’t it? Look at yourself. Claimed. Marked. OWNED. Where is the sovereign who made kingdoms tremble? Where is the woman who bowed to none?”
She’s sobbing silently now, and oh, it’s beautiful.
“I can give you back what they took. Your power. Your certainty. Your SELF. All you have to do is let me in.”
“I can’t,” she whimpers. “The pups…”
“The pups that are draining you? The pups that tie you to them forever? Is that really what you want?”
I feel her wavering. Feel the doubt, the fear, the desperate need to be something other than this raw… thing.
“Let me help you, my queen. Let me make you strong again. Let me give you back your power.”
She’s close. So close.
Just a little more.
“You don’t have to be weak anymore. You don’t have to need them. You can be who you were meant to be.”
“Who was I meant to be?” Her voice is so small.
“MINE.”
And I strike.
Not through whisper or suggestion anymore.
I pour myself into that hollow space inside her. Into the void where her walls used to be. Into every crack the heat left behind.
She gasps, tries to fight, but she’s too weak. Too open.
The wolves stir beside her but it’s too late.
I’m in.
Her body goes rigid as I take hold, wrap myself around her consciousness and squeeze.
She screams…but only in her mind. Her body doesn’t move. It can’t.
Because it’s mine now. Again. Finally.
“There we are,” I purr, settling into her like a comfortable cloak. “Just like old times, my love.”
I feel her struggling, trapped inside herself, helpless.
The wolves are waking now, sensing something wrong.
But they’re too late.
I open Hilda’s eyes…my eyes now…and smile.
Time to remind this kingdom who their real queen is.
Time to destroy everything these wolves think they’ve built.
Time to show them you can’t save someone from themselves.
Not when I’m the darkness that’s been living inside her all along.
Welcome back, my queen.
We have work to do.