Wicked Stepmother

Musings...

I felt guilty lying awake on my bed later, when I recalled that the girl I had been trading such nonsenses with was no maid-servant but a princess, my stepdaughter and some decorum was required from me. I still felt like the eager and spirited girl I had been able to be with Agnes, and the horses of my father's stables but I was now a queen, a fully grown woman as symbolised by the memory I carefully avoided of that bloody stabbing night of my wedding.

I had never hated the space between my legs before, it had seemed a place of warmth and friendship- life even but now it seemed a burden, something that fated me to that horror and humilation of my bloodied dress, the inexplicable encounter with my husband that I instinctively new was not the end of the matter. I spent days and nights trying not to anticipate that it might happen again, trying to dissociate from the idea of it with all sorts of distractions- too much food for which I was scolded by my wardrobe mistress (and indeed a queen cannot grow fat like a farmer's wife), and excess of sweet fragrant oils burned in my room, night rides (though never again on the mare) but my mind kept turning to Snow White- the silvery-white thought of her with her ebony hair and lips almost too dark and possessed of a sensuous mischief in their expression.

"She is you daughter, your daughter, your daughter" I sought to banish the inappropriate thoughts by a mantra that held no conviction. I had not given birth to her, was not used to seeing myself as a "mother" rather than a "girl" and besides doubted I was any older than her, unlike that "husband" of mine who seemed ancient and distant and sort of kindly without any real connection (in all things apart from the bedchamber where he'd been all too close and not at all kind).

I was sitting in a bath strewn with pink rose-petals trying to think queenly thoughts (but to be honest I was bored more than anything) when there was a faint breeze as though someone had opened the door.

"Hello, Stepmother" said a voice behind me. I jumped guiltily and turned expecting to see the radiant Snow-white but all that I saw was the maid Clovis, veiled as all maids are.

"Clovis, what nonsense is this" I strove to recover dignity after the way I had jumped. She giggled and removed the veil. I looked into the eyes of Snow White

"Clovis is my real name" she laughed, "Stepmother!"

"I am your stepmother truly and you should not come in when I am bathing" I said in some confusion.

"You're no older than me" she said scornfully, "I am taller and bigger-breasted. You are no more a grown woman than I am."

"But I am the queen" I pointed out

"Yes and I will be queen without having to marry an old man" she teased. I stiffened as the shame and pain of my wedding night came back to me.". Clovis' face changed, she looked into my face with something that might have been pity, and was certainly not teasing.

"I am sorry" she said quietly, "I don't suppose you chose to be here."

"No I did not" I said exhaling, appalled and relieved to be saying it out loud.

"What is your name?" she asked, "I don't like to keep calling you Stepmother. I don't feel in the slightest like your daughter."

"Kiora" I said.

"Kiora the wicked witch" she was back to teasing, "faster than lightning on horseback." I was silent. I had a strange impulse to tell her I had not ridden her horse again but I didn't want to sound like pleasing her was important to me.