The Queen’s Tale: Beauty, Loss, and a Haunting Mirror

Once upon a time, in a distant kingdom veiled by time and myth, a commoner became queen by marrying a powerful king. She was chosen for her radiant outward beauty, a face that sparkled like the morning sun. But beneath the surface, the tale is often told from the perspective of her stepdaughter, focusing on the queen’s bitter heart. Was she truly a wicked soul without hope, or was her harshness born from the wounds of a troubled past? Perhaps the truth lies somewhere in between.

The queen sat on the edge of her grand bed, cloaked in silence and shadows, her mind replaying the past few days like a haunting melody she could not escape. Each failed attempt to end Snow White’s life gnawed at her pride and patience.

First, she tried to strangle Snow White with a suffocating lace tied too tight. But the brave dwarves came to the rescue, cutting her free and restoring her to life. Next, she used a comb enchanted with eternal sleep, hoping it would silence Snow White forever. Yet again, the dwarves freed her from the deadly grip.

Now, the queen avoided the glass mirror she had so often consulted. The mirror had once advised her that the final blow must come from an apple, but the queen hesitated. To perish from a mere fruit felt cruel and ignoble.

Her thoughts drifted, unbearably vivid, back to a darker day — the day her younger brother died.

They had been wandering the forest together, carefree children searching for huckleberries to fill their mother’s pie. Their mother had warned them to be cautious, to only pick safe berries. But her brother, eager and heedless, stuffed wild berries into his mouth without thought.

She remembered his face paling with each passing moment, his body growing weaker and weaker. He collapsed beneath the trees, poison coursing silently through his veins. Desperately, she cradled him, trying to carry him home, but her own strength failed.

Her screams echoed through the empty woods, unanswered. She tried everything to save him — pumping his chest, forcing him to vomit — but it was all in vain. Her brother slipped away, leaving her alone on the forest floor, knees pressed into the cold earth, his head resting softly in her lap.

When their father found them, her tear-streaked face was met not with comfort, but with harsh words and blame. Whipped for neglecting the only son, she was punished for a tragedy she could not prevent. Her mother’s slaps burned her cheeks, her eldest sister chastised her, and even the family cat seemed to turn away.

That night, after everyone was asleep, she reached beneath her bed and pulled out the enchanted mirror. She asked, trembling, “Am I a good sister?”

The mirror’s voice was cold and unyielding:
“Thou may be a decent sister, but thou art no equal to thy eldest.”

Crushed by the verdict, she continued asking, desperate for kindness, but each answer told her she was not enough. Her heart ached with memories of her brother’s gentle touch and loving words, when he would stroke her hair and call her “the fairest in all the land.”

Gathering her last strength, she asked one final time,
“Who is the fairest in all the land?”

The mirror responded with quiet certainty,
“Thy brother speaks the truth, for it is thee.”

From that day forward, she clung fiercely to this truth — she must remain the fairest in the land, not just for herself, but for the memory of her lost brother.

Rising from her bed, the queen approached the mirror once more.
“Who is the fairest in all the land?” she demanded.

The mirror’s voice was sharp,
“Thou art fair, my queen. But beyond the mountains, with the seven dwarves, Snow White is still a thousand times fairer.”

Her heart darkened, and once again she plotted Snow White’s demise. In her secret chamber, she poisoned an apple as the mirror instructed. Dressing in disguise, she ordered the servants to prepare the carriage.

During the carriage ride, her mind wandered back to her brother’s lifeless body. She pushed away the pain and focused on her mission.

When she reached the dwarves’ cabin, she convinced Snow White to take a bite of the apple. The moment the girl collapsed, the queen fled swiftly back to her castle.

For a full day and night, she waited, tense and anxious. When she finally asked the mirror again,
“Who is the fairest in all the land?”

It answered as always,
“As thy brother said, ’tis thee.”

The queen smiled weakly, clutching the memory of that hilltop moment. She could still feel her brother’s arms wrap gently around her neck, his whispered words like a balm to her soul:

“You should try to be queen one day. Thou art certainly the fairest in all the land.”

Moral of the Story

Beauty can be a fragile crown weighed down by pain and loss. True fairness comes not just from outward appearance but from the kindness and love that live in one’s heart.