Crown by Reality

Snow White: The Evil Queen

“Mirror, mirror, on the wall," stands the Evil Queen in the presence of the Magic Mirror in the wall, "who is the fairest of them all?"

It happened one day in the presence of the Queen leaving her in a… shock. No one answered her, an utterance of word never echoed in her chambers then she begins to wonder, to ponder why? Before everything else, she begins with chants. Chanting, she does with growing stupor, vigorously rising heated anger clouding her judgement and yet the Mirror remains silent much to her growing uprising tantrums. Quite truthfully, the Mirror thought, the Queen never gave him anything than the putrid rotten core he was able to see that he can smell the stench of the decaying of her humanity. Hmph, she discarded the remaining humanity from herself a long time ago, indulging herself in Dark Magic, Black Magic to the extent of depriving herself of a shred of decency of a human being. Can he truly all her a human with a blackened, ashen heart, he disagreed with that notion. A Monster, a vile rotting human deprived of humanity, that’s what she was. And is.

“Mirror, Mirror, on the wall,” The Queen demands in once more. “who is the fairest of them all?”

The Princess had nothing more than himself to offer, he wanted nothing more than to be met with a heart of gold, a fair hearted Royal instead of facing this wretched Queen every single day with the same questions, the same answers he cannot possibly dare to lie since he was forged with truth and the graces of fine obsidian, the True Mirror was destined to speak boldly the truth, not some corruption corrupting his core where he absolutely abhors, detested it even to the very pits of hell. The Evil Queen wasn’t the apple of his eye, far from it, she was the poisoned apple in his eyes, she with the full, complete audacity to feed Snow White.

His heart craves for the long but meaningful conversation the true heiress of the Schneewhitten exchanged with him when she was still in the same room as him. It has been years since, he idly wonders if she can still remember the memories. A gloom above him brought him to a disappointment, the truth hurts and he was the truth itself.

“You are indeed, the fairest of them all.”

The voice coming from the mirror brought her back to reality, ah, so it still does work wonders.

“The fairest vile, wretched, and void of humanity of them all. You should be filled with joy, after all you are still considered the fairest, yes?”

It was then she heard the sound of the breaking glass… she heard the sound of the unmistakable cracks. A rebellion scarring the mirror, an attempt of escaping the confines of his own reality inside, he wasn’t caging in the current Queens and Princesses. Far from it, a wretched, evil Queen imprisoned him in his own confines, the more he reveals his power filters in through the ever growing cracks eager to escape, the horror that her features contorted to nothing more than a horrid sounds of breakage. The Magic Mirror was trying to destroy itself! Did a spell gone out of hand in order for this Mirror to act in such an erratic manner, she simply could not accept this madness array!

She hears the shards beginning to shrink in moment’s notice, every cracks widens like flesh ripping themselves apart, blood pouring into the steep dark magic she casted after her ascend to the throne. She watched, in frozen surprise and shock taking a hold of her as the impending drawn of dread served a million of justice from the thousands she inflicted an unjustified death, a countless meaningless suffering. How can she believe her ears after a multitude of lies spouting out from the Mirror?

“I do not lie, you feeble wretched and vain woman!” the Mirror bellowed with harsh resentment towards her. “I have served many Queens, Princesses, the Daughters of dignity and honor none that you have the qualities to have!”

The sound of breaking glass, yet every second he inflicted upon himself was a music to his ears, he was getting out of this vile, disgusting place reeking of impurities, all the scars, the wounds she caused in this Palace could never compare to what he has to go through by her hand the holds evil upon thousands of sins she carried in the palm of her hand. The blood, he thirsts and hungers for blood as the urge, the lingering temptation to escape from his prison for him to shrink into a deadly obsidian, shaping himself, contorting to become a weapon to destroy the Queen in front of him.

"I am the impending doom of dread, a forthcoming of justice and truth, I demand order and peace be put into place you false, good-for-nothing, mortal!"

The fear weights an impenetrable rock instilled inside the cages of her ribs caging in her heart, fearful ache striking in a knife to her chest while her mouth dried of any hint of water, an instinct of fear she feels the soles of her feet grow cold. Desperately she tries to hide how fearful she was, how the tremor slighted her eyes, the temperature of the room devoid itself of warmth, a powerful magic greater than her she cannot ever imagine. Ah! She refuse to bow down towards the like of this Mirror!

"You will behave yourself in the presence of the Queen!" she demanded at the top of her lungs, she grasp her hands on the surface of the mirror, a heated sensation reached to her tips, not one for searing pain. A casting of spell.

The thin line between the heart and mind slowly deteriorates, no longer can she bare the labored heaves her chest gives, what more of an effort can she recognize which is which? Does the mind give or does the heart tempt her to follow a certain demise?

It's getting harder to breathe. Silently dangerous, The urge to fall to her knees becoming apparent by how she tries to make her feet towards the curtained windows. For every step she makes through the creaky wooden floor, the more her strength sucked out of her.