Lips as Red as Blood

Lips as red as a rose. Hair as black as ebony. Skin as white as snow. These three statements are what I am known for. My beauty. My story is one of triumph, of good conquering evil. It empowers inner beauty over masked cruelty. What you must remember, however, is that the winner always gets to write the history. My story is not what it seems.

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"Snow!" The Queen cried furiously as she swings the grand, golden french doors to my bedchamber open in a flurry. "Where were you last night?"

I sighed, standing from my desk decorated in priceless jewels and literature, and turned to face the regal figure walking swiftly towards me. No doubt about it, she was beautiful, as all the tales of her say. Her deep brown hair falls to her cheeks in curled ringlets that frame her heart-shaped face perfectly. Her eyes are as dark as night, and gazing into them, you start to see constellations behind her pupils. Her skin, the colour of rich soil, glows with youthful content despite her age. Her cheeks, pristine and plump, were now turning red with rage.

"Here," I answer as nonchalantly as I can, but her majesty is too clever, and she knows me too well.

She places her ringed hands on her hips. "Don't lie to me. You went to the forest," Her breathing is getting heavier, and her eyes narrower. I know I cannot keep this facade up for long.

"I was here," I say, making sure to gaze deep into her eyes, willing her to believe me. Instead of the usual compliance, my statement is met with even more anger.

"How dare you try that on me! You should know better," She says, raising her hand to the silver pendant that lay between her breasts. Dammit. I was hoping she wouldn't be wearing that. "I took you in, Snow. I protected you. You're like a daughter to me," her face softens, and she places a hand on my cold, colourless cheek.

I say nothing. The Queen is no hero to me. Yes, she was kind, and generous, and gave me the benefit of the doubt. But she also sent soldiers to murder my entire family.

"If you really cared for me, you wouldn't be wearing that everywhere," I say, poison behind my words. I gesture to the necklace that hangs at her bosom, my expression turning sour. One decision from her, and I'll be joining my family. I recoil as she reaches for it, afraid of what it could do to me.

"You know why I wear it. And you also know that I'd never use it against you," She backs away from me as if remembering why she came here, and her face goes hard. "But that's not what I'm here for."

"Oh?" I say, trying my best to feign innocence.

"Children in the villages have been going missing. The scouts are looking for them now, but the most we ever find of them are their clothes," she pauses as if bracing herself for what she has to say next. "You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

"Are you accusing me of something, your highness?" My tone is sour.

"I'm asking you if you might know who's behind this. Maybe a few escaped the raid- " She starts, but I refuse to give her the satisfaction of completing that sentence. I immediately realize what she's implying. My brows draw closer together, and my lips thin to a tight line.

"The raid? If anyone else survived, do you really think I'd still be here? With you?" She winces, and for a fraction of a second she looks as if she is... upset, by the notion of my leaving, but the emotion leaves as quickly as it came and she is stoic once again.

"I need to know if there is even a possibility. If there's a monster out there, hurting my people," She says, nothing but sincerity in her voice. I know better, though. There is a bitter aftertaste to her sweet facade.

"Oh, you don't want your people getting hurt, do you?" I say, moving closer to her. "Wouldn't it just be awful if the people you cared about died?"

"Sheleg..." She says, reaching out for me. She never gets to touch me, however, as I reach out and grab her wrist before she can do anything. I am too quick for her.

"You don't get to call me that." I spit the words at her, expecting a retort. She says nothing, however. There is sadness in her eyes. The queen backs away from me.

"Fine."

She leaves my room, but not before whispering something to the guards, they nod curtly and shut my doors once she leaves. I am left to wonder and speculate what she said to them, but I don't have to theorize for long, as I hear the lock on my doors click.

My cheeks boil. Who does she think she is? Locking me in a room. Does she not think I can escape? Does she not think I won't hesitate to kill anyone who stands in my way? And calling me by my true name. I scoff. As if she has the right.

She imprisoned me here under the illusion of kindness. Pretended to care; even going as far as to insist I call her mother. The people love it, of course. They think their kind, loving queen took pity on a monster. A monster. How pathetic. The only true monster is the queen they worship.

I gaze out of my window, a cruel pane of false freedom, wishing I could fly away. I could, once upon a time. I would fly over the mountains and villages with my brothers, I would feel the wind running it's icy fingers through my long, dark hair. I would feel the breeze place piercing kisses on my face. I was free.

I reach behind my head, feeling the enchanted golden chain that keeps my hair in place. It taunts me, feigning beauty and elegance, masking it's greater purpose. I quickly switch my hand away from the blessed metal, but not before it burned my paper-white finger. I cry out in agony, holding my blistering finger to my bosom. She did this to me.

As I look over the castle courtyard through my window, I let my mind wander back to a simpler time. A kinder time. A time before the Queen took away everything. Everything that mattered anyways.

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