Contest: Rewind the Classics 2022

Fairy Tale/s: Snow White and the Seven Dwarves

LGBTQ+ content: None

Warnings: A little bit of blood and gore, Mentions of violence

Synopsis and extras: When the Queen's beloved stepdaughter causes disruption in the kingdom in her undead state, she must decide to take matters to her own hands to protect her people.

Word count: 872

Notes: None

The man was brought in by a couple of terrified guards. There was a gaping hole in his chest, where his heart should have been. In his trembling hands was a bloodied box. As he walked towards the throne as if in a trance, free from the sentinels' grasp, the queen had already speculated the sickening contents of the box.

She stood and reached the man. His eyes were glazed over, unseeing; dead. His feet worked by the order of an undead being puppeteering him from miles away. His hands pushed the box into the pale hands of the queen before collapsing at her feet altogether.

There was a series of loud gasps from the courtiers followed by incessant murmurs. They watched the queen stoop ever so gracefully to reach the dead man and place her palm on his forehead.

"Be at peace, soldier," she murmured, remorse and guilt clawing at her heart. "You did your best."

She stood and looked at the guards, her gaze stronger than steel. "Cremate his body, along with this-" she handed over the intricately decorated box that now had dried patches of blood on it "-for good measure, lest he should be summoned by forces unholy."

The soldier to whom the box was handed over moved to open it, overwhelmed by curiosity. The queen turned her sharp gaze to him. "You will not find anything else there other than what is already out of place," she said and returned to the throne. The soldier's startled expression warped into a look of pure terror upon realizing that the only thing out of place was the dead man's heart.

*

The glass was cold, smooth and dazzlingly clean. The surface was immune to dust and all that it reflected held an impression of otherworldly clarity.

The queen sighed as she touched the mirror with the tips of her fingers. Hoping against hope, she cleared her throat and spoke to it.

"Magic mirror on the wall, who is the fairest one of all?"

Her reflection began to fall apart transforming into a sickeningly green mist. She watched as the mist transformed into a demonic face. It floated beneath the surface of the mirror, shimmering in and out of existence.

"Snow White," it rasped, "is still the fairest one of all."

The queen sighed. The mirror's answer was the same as it was a fortnight ago when she had been merely fulfilling one of her duties as the protector of the land. For weeks the mirror had provided her with names and visions of the fairest, the bloodless undead and she had hunted them down. She had been certain that she had cleared the land of the pestilence when her worst fear had come true. She had failed to protect her precious daughter. Though of not her own blood, only she knew how precious the princess was to her. "Let me see her," she said, dreading what the mirror would show.

The face dissolved into a murky swirl and an image of a forest appeared. At the foot of a large tree, safe in its shade was the hauntingly beautiful princess Snow, sleeping peacefully. There was dried blood in her small hands and her clothes were torn. The queen shuddered at the thought of her ripping out the heart of her huntsman.

"Snow," the queen whispered, caressing the glass, her voice trembling. "Oh, darling."

The forest disappeared and was replaced by the floating face. "You made an oath to protect your people, your highness."

"I remember my oath," she snapped, "I have made countless sacrifices to fulfill it. And I am prepared to make many more. Where is she headed?"

"A few miles away is the abode of seven sons of the Earth, which she will reach by sundown, if she is to continue her journey to the West."

The queen mused over this for a while and looked out of her window, searching for her two loyal messengers. A rare, white raven and his pitch-black brother were perched on a tree preening their feathers.

"Mist, Shadow," she called, "here, my darlings."

The two immediately took flight and reached her outstretched hand; Shadow settling on her shoulder and Mist perching on her fingers.

The queen gently stroked the bird's white head. "You, my dear, must gather the gentle woodland creatures. By the order of their Queen, they are to find Princess Snow and accompany her safely to the cottage of the seven dwarves. Go."

Mist took to the skies soundlessly. His brother flapped his wings once, as if reminding his mistress of his presence.

"You, my beloved," the queen said taking him into her hands, "must fly to the dwarves. Tell them that their Queen requests their services. Tell them I require a coffin made of pure diamond. Until it is done, as the only people immune to the bloodlust of the undead, they are to provide sanctuary to the Princess and ensure she remains under their watch. Tell them their payment shall be made in gold."

Shadow too took flight after his brother and she watched him go.

She had made an oath to protect her people and she would fulfill it, despite how time will change her tale.

It's done and there is no going back. I've officially written an "undead Snow White" story. I was originally planning on adding the prince in here too but I'm a bit rusty having not written anything in months.

Anywho, I'll be delighted to know what you think of the story. See any mistakes or points I should work on? Please let me know in the comments. And don't forget to leave a vote too, if you think this deserves one.

Have a lovely day/ night.

Regards,
𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙍𝙇𝙄𝙀.