Toxic Tales

Blood Red Part 2

Snow White spent her early childhood as a kind, sweet little girl, full of love and affection. By the age of five, however, her parents' spoiling had turned her into an ungrateful, mischievous brat who behaved in any manner that pleased her. She was a smart little girl, too; whenever a servant lost patience with her, she went crying to her parents to complain of her ill treatment. When she was around them, she knew how to act sweet and precious. She saved the nastiness for the help.

I knew I was risking my position and my friendship with the royal family, but I couldn't take this rash behavior any longer. Snow White was like my own daughter, and I didn't want her to grow up a tyrant. One day I sat her down and asked her why she acted the way she did.

"Because I can," was the response. "I'm the Princess—I can do whatever I want. Mother and Father say so."

"Yes, you are indeed the Princess," I conceded, "but do you know what exactly that means?"

Snow was about to respond, but she paused, a puzzled look on her face.

"What do you mean?"

"A Princess has a very important job," I said. "As she goes through life, she becomes a trusted member of the royal family. The people of the kingdom look to her for wisdom and kindness, because they know that one day, she will be Queen. They want their leader to treat them with love and respect."

Snow White didn't say anything. She continued to look at me with confusion in her eyes.

"Being a Princess is essentially practicing to be Queen. When you treat the servants and housekeepers with rudeness and cruelty, it only prepares you to treat the people of your kingdom the same way. Do you understand, little snowflake?" That was my special nickname for her.

Snow White looked thoughtful, nodding slowly. "Perhaps...I should practice being kind to the servants?"

"Yes, exactly!" I smiled, relieved that she understood. "When you are nice to others, they will be nice to you. When everyone is nice to one another, there can truly be peace. You want to rule over a peaceful kingdom someday, don't you?"

"Oh, yes I do, Auntie!" The little girl smiled at me. I smiled back, and kissed her on the forehead.

"I know it can be scary," I said, smoothing her hair and adjusting the red ribbon I'd tied in it this morning. "But I believe you will be a wonderful Queen, just like your mother."

"Do you love my mother?"

"Why, yes, I certainly do," I replied, slightly taken aback at the question. "I've known your mother for many years, and I think of her as my closest—"

"What about my father? Do you love him?"

I hesitated, not sure what to say. Yes, I did love the King, but not in the familial sense. After a moment, I said, "Yes, I do. I love every member of the royal family, and everyone who works and lives in the palace."

Snow White nodded slowly. I couldn't read the expression on her face. She looked up at me, smiled again, kissed me on the cheek and thanked me. I went about my work for the rest of the day, feeling satisfied that I had made an impression.

Snow was transformed after our little talk. According to the cook, she had taken the time to go around the palace and apologize to everyone she'd mistreated. The day after, she had picked a bouquet of wild flowers and given one to every servant. This was similar to the way she'd acted earlier in her life, appreciative and sweet. Life went back to the way it was before. For once, I felt a genuine sense of peace.

That didn't last very long.

***

Three months after my talk with Snow White, I was walking up the palace stairs to give the Queen her breakfast. She had requested to eat in her bedchamber that morning, as she was feeling a little under the weather.

Carefully balancing the tray, I knocked on the door. There was no answer. I assumed she was dozing, so I opened the door as slowly and quietly as I could.

"Good morning, Your Majesty," I said softly, opening the door wider. "I hope you're feeling better, I—"

When I looked up into the room, I screamed, dropping the tray with a clatter.

The Queen was lying on the floor, eagle-spread in a puddle of her own blood. There was a gash in her head, resembling an axe wound. Her eyes and mouth were closed, her head lolling slightly to the left; if not for the blood, one would have assumed she was sleeping. I will never forget how she looked.

I ran to her, sobbing and calling breathlessly for help. Misery and despair flooded my soul.

The Queen, my sister and friend, was dead.

News spread quickly through the palace. I explained to the castle guards how I had found her. The Queen's blood was still on my hands and dress. The other chambermaids and servants were weeping, the guards bowing their heads in sorrow. They told me there was absolutely no way a murderer could have snuck into the castle; every entryway was guarded all day and night, and no one had seen anything.

When the body had been moved and the blood cleaned up, I found the King in his throne room. He was holding his daughter, who was sobbing inconsolably into his chest, occasionally crying out for her mother. He patted her on the back and kissed her, but said nothing. There were tears running down his face. My heart broke all over again for the loss of his wife.

When Snow looked up and saw me, she ran to me, throwing her arms around my neck. I picked her up and carried her back to her father. The King looked at me and said softly, "She loved you, you know. More than anyone else."

I swallowed, fighting back tears. I had cried so much today. "I know, My Lord. And I loved her, so much."

The King looked at his daughter, who was resting in my arms, sniffling. "I don't know how to thank you...for everything you've done for me and my family."

I managed a small smile. "I'd do it all over again, Your Majesty."

He smiled back, then reached out to take Snow from my arms. "Come, darling," he said sweetly, "let's get you to bed."

The moment before she left my arms, the little princess whispered something in my ear—two little words that made my heart stop and my blood run cold.

"You're welcome."