Mirror, Mirror Page 6

  “You were a mistake, you know,” Marya went on to say. “When I cast my spell to create you, when I made my great sacrifice to give you life, it was with the understanding that you would be a boy.” For a moment her eyes softened, as she reminisced. “I always wanted the king to have everything he wanted. Amelia too.”

  Her voice trailed off, and she closed her eyes. When she opened them a second later, they were hard, and were filled with an expression that the princess had never seen before - hate.

  “But no, you had to be a girl,” Marya said bitterly. “Then, not content with making me a failure in that way, you killed my sister.”

  With tears running down her cheeks, the princess tried to protest, but Marya would not listen to her.

  “Yes, you killed my sister, and still you were not satisfied with the grief you had caused me!” She was raving now, Marya knew, but she did not care. The fury, pain, and jealousy that she had kept locked up in her broken heart for so many years was finally bursting forth, and now she would not stop it if she could. “No, to make my suffering complete, you stole my love away from me.”

  Tears were on Marya’s cheeks as well now, and she wiped them away impatiently. With an imploring, almost child-like look, she asked the princess, “Why did you have to do that? Had I not suffered enough? Why wouldn’t you let the king love me?”

  Again the princess tried to protest, although her sobs were too strong to leave much room for words. Even as she tried to speak however, the queen’s expression hardened again.

  “Never gave me a chance,” the queen was saying. “There was never any room for me, not once you came along. No, no. But it will all be put right now. A few drops of your blood, and I will take back what I freely gave, and then I will have the son that the king has always deserved.”

  As she spoke, Marya pulled a wicked looking knife from her sleeve, and began approaching the princess. The girl swallowed her last sob, hiccupping a little as she looked around the room again in desperation. As the queen lunged at her, the princess dodged to one side, crossing the room in three quick strides and continuing to look around for something to defend herself with.

  Marya snarled in frustration and impatience, and threw herself across the room towards the princess. The battering wind was everywhere now, and dust and papers were beginning to fly into the air. As the queen flashed out with the knife, the princess tried to dodge again, but tripped on the hem of her skirt and began to fall.

  She clutched at the air frantically, and felt fabric slipping along her fingers. She grabbed at it, but it did not break her fall. The princess felt the fabric being pulled along with her, and they both hit the floor with a dull thud. She heard a faint scream, but did not turn around. Instead, she scrambled to her feet, struggling with the folds of fabric until at last she was free and across the room again. Then she looked around, and stared.

  Marya was frozen in place. When the princess had fallen, she had pulled the dust cover off of the old pier glass, and Marya was left standing face to face with her own reflection. Part of the glass had twisted and warped with age, making her look even more grotesque than she truly was. Marya was not able to hold in a scream of horror.

  Moments later, as she was still staring in terrible fascination at the image in the mirror, she saw the princess’ reflection come in to view. The girl’s reflection stood up and turned around, and Marya’s heart contracted in rage and jealousy. By some trick of the light or the glass, the princess was reflected perfectly. For the first time, Marya saw herself side by side with the princess. She saw what she had become, and she saw in the princess everything that she had once been.

  “What cruel mirror is this!” were the words that were torn from the queen as she stared, her face twisting in fury. The princess paled, and once again retreated to the door.

  In a sudden, enraged movement, Marya flung herself forward. She slammed her hands against the mirror, screaming incoherently. The great mirror shattered and the glass began breaking away, slowly at first, then all at once. Standing beneath a shower of hundreds of falling shards, the queen was cut to ribbons.

  The silent wind gave a massive roar, and the light in the room brightened, disappeared for a terrifying moment, then reappeared and slowly steadied itself. Breathing heavily, crying softly, and frightened almost beyond bearing, the princess began moving forward to see what had happened to her aunt. She stopped halfway across the room, as she suddenly realized that she was not yet alone in the room.

  The young prince paced around his room with a restless energy. It was late at night, and all the rest of the castle was still and dark, but he knew that he would find no rest tonight. Long after all the lights were extinguished and all the many people who lived in the castle had settled down to sleep, the prince continued to move about his room. He was waiting for something, but he did not know what it was.

  Tired of looking at the same four walls, the prince left his rooms and moved down the empty corridors. Though the way was dark, he neither hesitated nor stumbled, for he had made this walk many times. Unerringly, his footsteps led him straight to the chamber of the glass coffin, where the king‘s daughter lay in deathly repose.

  The prince had never spoken to the princess, nor seen her smile, nor heard her laugh. He did not know her favorite color, nor her favorite pet, nor even her favorite story. All he did know was that he loved her.

  He had loved her since first setting eyes on her. At the funeral, when his turn to walk past the glass coffin had come, he had felt the ropes and chains of fate winding around and binding him as he looked down at the princess, and he had not been able to free himself since. Truth be told, he had not tried very hard.

  After the funeral, he had visited the chamber with the glass coffin every day, and sometimes more than once a day. He could not sleep without looking upon his love’s face at least one more time. During these visits, he sometimes spoke to the dead princess, his love, telling her about himself and the life they should have had together.

  On this night, just as he was crossing the gallery, he heard a faint crashing sound. He did not pay it much mind, assuming that someone had knocked something over in the dark. As he reached the end of the gallery, he heard the sound of shattering glass. The prince told himself that it was nothing to worry about, but his footsteps quickened nonetheless.

  As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he heard a third sound - very faint this time, like a knife being dropped in an empty hall, followed by voices. For no reason at all, his heart jumped into his throat, and he found himself almost running towards the chamber with the glass coffin.

  The prince burst into the room, then stood stunned at what he saw. The coffin was empty, its glass shattered, and the room’s guard was lying unconscious on the floor. The prince looked around wildly, but could see no trace of his love. His head was whirling and the room spun about him. He wanted nothing more than to sit down and try to think clearly about what had happened, but he pushed forward and knelt beside the fallen guard instead.

  The guard groaned, and opened groggy eyes. His first words were for the princess, and the prince seized the man’s collar and shook him until the guard told him what had happened. The prince then helped the guard to his feet, and together they began making their way to the tower.

  They found the tower door locked, and though they could hear voices from within, no one answered their calls. When one of the voices began to scream, they stopped calling and began breaking the door down instead.

  When at last they were able to batter down the door, the prince pushed his way past the guard and into the tower room, his eyes searching every shadow and corner until they rested upon the princess. She was standing on the far side of the room, with her hair in disarray and her face pale with fear. The prince thought he had never seen so magnificent a sight.

  He saw that she was trembling, and without further thought he rushed across the room and wrapped his arms about the girl. Though she was startled at first by this familiarity,
she did not seem to mind, as she stared up into the prince’s face in complete and sudden distraction. For a long moment, as they looked at each other, neither of the two were aware of anything else in the room.

  From the other side of the room a muffled exclamation was heard, and the prince and princess both turned to see the guard crouching over something. The prince moved a brace of candles nearer, and they could see a bundle of torn and blood-streaked clothing. Beneath the fabric, something moved, and gave a faint wail. The princess shuddered and clung to the prince, who tightened his hold on her, as if afraid that she might be taken from him again.

  Only the guard was left to investigate the sound, and he reached out a shaking hand towards the ripped pile of clothing. He pulled the fabric back with a quick gesture, and all three of them gasped. Lying there on the floor, where the broken body of the queen should have been, was a tiny infant boy.

  Though neither the prince, the princess, nor the guard knew it, the queen’s death had completed her spell. Her blood had been spilled when the mirror shattered, and it was the rest of her own life force that had poured into the spellcrafting. She had finally created a son.

  The child was taken to the king, and the whole story was told to him. Though he mourned the wickedness of his second queen, his joy at having his daughter restored to him was so great that he really felt very little regret. In time, he adopted the infant boy as his own, and the child eventually became king after him.

  As for the prince and princess, it was not very long before their fates were settled as well. The prince quickly proposed, the princess as quickly accepted, and it was soon decided between them that they would live happily ever after.

  Rosamund

  Once upon a time, there lived a King and a Queen who had no children. They lived in a beautiful castle, and their kingdom was a happy and prosperous one. Their neighboring kings were both friends and allies, and they lived in a time of great peace and plenty. Yet despite these many blessings, every time they walked past the empty nursery they would grieve and say “If only we had a child!”

  Time passed, as time is wont to do, and eventually the King and Queen stopped hoping for a child. They tried to find happiness in their daily lives instead, and since they were both good, kind people who loved each other very much, they soon succeeded. And as so often happens, it was not many months later that the Queen discovered that she was at last to have a child.

  In due course the Queen was confined and gave birth to a girl. The king waited only long enough to hear that both his wife and child were alive and well before he rushed out to spread the great news, and to arrange the most elaborate celebration the kingdom had seen in over seven generations.

  The feast was grand almost beyond the telling. Everyone who was invited attended, and a fair number who weren’t invited did so as well. All of the king and queen’s friends and family were present, and half the kingdom besides. The place of honor however was a long table draped with dusky velvet, on top of which rested twelve table settings. Each piece of each setting, from the goblets to the plates to the smallest of the forks, was fashioned from the purest gold.

  It was at this table that the faeries had been seated - the water faeries next to the forest fairies, and the forest fairies next to the city faeries, and the city faeries next to the wall, because despite being used to people, the city faeries really weren’t all that friendly.

  The feast lasted for many hours, and everyone was very merry. When the last of the food had been consumed, and no one could eat any more, the giving of gifts began. The friends and family had all brought small tokens to bestow upon the child - toys and rattles, blankets of the softest wool, and adorably small dresses and wrappings made from impractically fine fabric. When the more mundane of the presents had been given, the faeries rose to confer their own gifts upon the infant child.

  The first of the faeries gave the child the gift of beauty, and the second gave her grace. The gifts of virtue, riches, song, and dance were all bestowed as well, and still there were more blessings for the child to receive. Long before the faeries were done, it was clear to all those present in the room that this child would grow up to be an extremely fortunate princess indeed.

  Soon there was only one more faerie left to present her gift. The great feasting room was filled with the rustlings of small movements and hushed voices, for the many spectators were growing tired and had begun to fidget. Even the place of honor was not silent, as two of the faeries were arguing with each other in piercing whispers.

  The faeries had not consulted each other before giving their gifts, and one of the water faeries was upset with a city faerie. They had both intended to give the child the gift of wit, but since the city faerie had gone first, the water faerie had been left standing there with only moments to think of a new gift, and all she had been able to come up with was prudence. From the strident phrases coming from the water faerie, it was clear that she was not happy about it.

  The last faerie was moving briskly towards the child’s cradle, for she too was tired and wanted to get home, when the doors to the great hall were thrown open and a cold wind filled the room. There were gasps and faint cries from the crowd, and the candles in the massive chandelier guttered for a long moment and then steadied again. As the shadows returned to their proper places and people began looking around, a dark figure was soon spotted standing next to the royal cradle. Fear seized many a heart, and more than one cry of alarm was given.

  The figure pulled back the hood of its long, heavy cloak, and turned to glare at the crowd, which fell silent. Turning back to the front of the room, the figure looked once more into the cradle, then began moving towards the place of honor. By the time the newcomer’s cold gaze had swept the length of the table, she had been recognized, and her identity had been whispered from ear to ear. She was the thirteenth faerie, it was said in hushed undertones, the one who was supposed to be dead, or at least forever imprisoned in that tower that no one ever went near.

  As people watched, the dark faerie said something over her shoulder to the royal couple, picking up a golden fork as she did so. After a moment the King answered, and his words made the faerie give a bitter smile and drop the fork back onto the velvet covered table. She then moved back over to the cradle, and though everyone in the hall tensed, no one seemed to be able to do anything to stop her.

  The faerie spoke again, and her words caused the Queen to go deathly pale and the King to flush in anger. The Queen then rushed forward to pick up her child, holding the child tightly against herself. Her action caused the dark faerie to laugh, loudly and scornfully. A moment later the candles guttered again, though there was no wind, and when the light had once more steadied itself the faerie was nowhere to be seen.

  Though the thirteenth faerie had never raised her voice, and had addressed herself only to the King and Queen, the knowledge of what she had said passed through the room like lightning. The dark faerie, being filled with anger and injured pride at not being invited to the feast and the place of honor, had placed a curse on the infant princess.

  On the child’s sixteenth birthday, people repeated to their neighbors, she would prick her finger on a spindle and die. Others countered that the dark faerie had said her eighteenth birthday, and still others insisted that it had been any time before she turned sixteen. While the timing of the curse was much disputed, all agreed on the part about the spindle and death.

  The great hall echoed with speculation and rumor, and at the top of the room the Queen sat crying on her throne, while the King paced back and forth behind her. The eleven faeries at the place of honor were arguing again, without bothering to whisper any longer, and the castle dogs had taken advantage of everyone’s distraction to knock over a platter of leftovers, which they were now fighting over on the floor. In the midst of all this pandemonium stood the last faerie, who had still not given her gift.

  The faerie, who had a practical mind and a benevolent heart, strode forward towards the grieving
royal parents. She told them to not despair, for while she could not undo the curse, she could lessen it. The princess would not die, she told them, but would fall into an enchanted sleep for a hundred years, from which she could only be awakened by true love’s kiss.

  The Queen thanked the faerie from the bottom of her heart, and called blessings down upon her. The King thanked her as well, but was skeptical of the gift’s benefits. He had been thinking as well, and believed that he had struck upon a way to thwart the dark faerie’s curse altogether. Before the day was over, he had ordered that all the spindles in his kingdom be burned.

  The princess grew up with all the graces and gifts that the faeries had given her. She was truly beautiful to behold, and could sing, dance, and converse better than any other princess for seven kingdoms. She was the pride and joy of not only her parents, but the entire court.

  One day, the King and Queen left the castle on a tour of state - which is what they always called it when they just wanted to take a picnic out into the countryside and spend a quiet afternoon together without any of the royal hangers-on. The princess spent the day exploring the castle, poking into all of its nooks and crannies and secret passages. Eventually, her wanderings led her to a narrow tower stair that she had never come across before.

  Climbing the stairs, the princess found a door with a rusty brass key in the lock. From behind the door, she could hear an unfamiliar sound, both rhythmic and soothing. Curious, she turned the key and pushed the door open.

  The door swung open to reveal a small room, in which stood a bed, a dresser, a stool and strange wooden contraption that was whirling round and round in a blur. On the stool in front of the device sat an old woman, holding a fine thread in her hands and singing softly to herself.

  “What are you doing, good woman?” asked the princess.