The Velvet Chamber
An Anthology of Revisioned Myth and Fairy Tale

Explore the dark side of the female psyche --A CALL FOR WRITERS supports The Velvet Chamber

Saturday, December 26, 2009

I am Snow White: Part 2

Read Part 1

One month after his mouldering corpse was laid to rest, I was summoned to the main salon.  And there before me stood his bastard child.  A shivering, tiny slip of a girl, perhaps 12 or 13.  And so pale she looked like a ghost.  She gazed up at me, and said, 

"I am Snow White." 

Indeed, I thought, and I am Rose Red.  Newly bloomed, newly wealthy.  But I will not have this girl here. "Esmeralda," I called out to my maidservant, "Bring Mistress White into the kitchen for meat and cheese. "You," I said, glancing over at her, "You need some fat on your bones." 

Still motionless, and almost like a statue in the early morning light, she said, "You will address me by my proper name," and did not once look up at me.  Esmeralda arrived wiping her hands on a linen apron, and gently took the girl away.  But not before she turned back to me, and repeated, quietly, almost silently, "You will address me by my proper name.  You will." 

 Solicitor who accompanied her, cleared his throat.  But before he could speak, I interjected, "What whore was this?"

"Oh, no whore," he responded amiably, "I can assure you." 

I glared at him balefully; another man in a velvet waistcoat, another diamond pin in his cravat, another man wearing wool breeches--- a cock coiled inside.  Another man, who by virtue of his sex, more powerful than I.  But I would not have it!  I would live alone, unencumbered, in this castle, on this land hidden away by a grove of evergreen on a high hill, high enough to watch the sun set and the moon rise.  And I would not fear the ghosts of the Duke's royal family.  I would laugh at them.  I would fuck the stable boy by the light of the moon.  I would fuck him again beneath the oil portraits of his titled ancestors, inside the chapel, and I wouldn't be surprised if, one night, I lost control of all my senses and fucked him on my husband's grave because this was my property now!

"No matter," I said, coolly, directly meeting his gaze, "No matter who the lady is--- I will not have his bastard here."   I crossed my arms, stood tall, my tits straining against the sky blue taffeta of my bodice, my own gems flashing in the morning light; sapphires, emeralds and jade, my black hair perfectly dressed.  A woman, yes.  But formidable.   Still beautiful.  When he did not reply, when he simply smiled, a ghost of a smile, I asserted, "And you shall tell the lady my decision. I will not have this child here." 

"The Lady," he replied, "is the Queen."


"Her Highness," I said, evenly, "is the Duke's sister."    I'd only met her twice.  Also a beautiful woman, but cold, very cold.  She hated her brother with a viciousness that I could only admire.

"And that is their child," he replied, still grinning, his blue eyes sparkling. 


"She's been away at a convent, he said.  (If he wasn't the Queen's emissary I would crack him over the head.) "When her Highness heard of her brother's death," he continued, "she decided to grant you custody until she is betrothed, or reaches her majority."  His eyes traveled down to my tits, oh the insolence of this man!

"What is her proper name," I demanded.

"She hasn't been given one.  She's always been referred to as the child," he replied.

I strode over to him, until we were nose to nose, not lady-like, not polite or well-mannered, "You tell the Queen is it my intention to live alone.  Tell her I do not accept more years of servitude.  She will know what I am referring to. I do not want 'the child.'  And if her Highness insists," my voice raising, "you tell her, most respectfully----"

"--- the abbess doesn't like that tone of voice."

It was the girl, the child, Snow White hidden in the shadows at the far side of the room, next to a coat of arms.   Her small feet planted firm on the flagstones, her thin arms akimbo; angel or devil.  Either one was possible.

"She says if you speak like that, you will burn in eternal hell-fire.  And then I say, I am burning.  I say this is hell, and the devil is my own true love." 

I turned back to the Solicitor, "What possesses her? Is she mad?"

He replied, "I can arrange for a nurse."


"She has fits."

Oh, this was too much.  Clearly the girl was insane.  Clearly the union of brother and sister had damned this child, and I would not have her.  I would not.  "Get out of my home," I ordered, "Now!"  I pulled open the heavy wooden doors, "This is madness and I won't have it.  Take 'the girl' with you."

As she left, she screamed,

"I am Snow White."

Read Part 3

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