InsaneJournal

”Let her dance, my king, in shoes of heated iron.” the young queen said, her tone sweet as honey.

Her mother could see an army of spirits milling around the thrones. It had been her army only a short while ago, now deserted for the young queen’s charms. Faithless sylphs.

Even more faithless was her daughter, who sat on the throne before her. The throne that had been hers only a few days ago.

“Is this how you treat your mother?” she hissed.

The queen caressed her cheek tenderly. “But, Mother dear, I am only doing what you taught me to. Besides, you ought to thank me for leaving your face unmarred.” Her smile was mocking as she added. “Not that it will make much difference.”

The deposed queen could hear the laughter of the courtiers who surrounded her. Their laughter mocked her, reminded her that she was young and beautiful no longer. Her hand rose to her cheek defensively as the laughter increased, only to fall silent when the new queen raised her hand for silence.

“Enough,” she said. “I weary of this game. Now bring the shoes.”

The deposed queen wondered if that was all this meant to her daughter. Was the death of her mother, her greatest rival just a source of amusement to the young queen?

Her daughter watched her with a detached curiosity. “Aren’t you going to run, Mother?”

She shook her head, a barely noticeable motion. No, she would not run. She would die with dignity. “I curse you with a mother’s curse, Snow-White. May your child do to you as you have done to me, and all your joys turn into dust.”

The young queen remained expressionless, but the old queen knew with a mother’s instinct that her child was troubled. She smiled with a gloating satisfaction. There would be no escape for her, but there would be none for her daughter either.

She raised her chin and prepared to meet her fate.

When the shoes were placed upon her feet and she was forced to dance, her decision to die with honor was forgotten.