Chapter 2

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Queen Harrica walked behind the silk curtains that surrounded her large platform bed.

Hanging from a wall, was a floor length, oval mirror with gold framing and intricate designs carved into it.

Standing before it, she recited,

"Mirror mirror on the wall, who is fairest of them all."

The clear glass turned a murky gray. The cloudy image spun round and round until a mouth appeared.

'Beautiful Queen, your looks so well, but if you are the fairest, I cannot tell."

Queen Harrica frowned at this.

"What do you mean you can not tell?" she said irked.

From the moment she took possession of this mirror, the spirit inside has always told her she was the fairest of them all. It was the only way she could look out for any threats to her beauty.

'There is another who beauty challenges your own. Who's hands may soon hold your throne.'

"Who?!" Queen Harrica demanded.

'Hair red as fire. Skin white as snow. And eyes black as onyx.'

"Stephen!" she shrieked.

Fury rage from within her core. Of course, how could she not have known! That damn bastard will take everything she has.

Not on her watch.

She paced her bedroom floor, trying to think of a way to preserve her power.

'I must be rid of that boy! I must be rid . . . But how? How will I do it?'

Then she stopped. A wicked grin spread across her lovely features.

Heading to her door, she flung it open and pointed a red, polished finger at a guard.

"You! Bring me the Head Huntsman this instance!"

The guard straightened before running off to retrieve the Head Huntsman.

She paced the floor once again, impatience now quickening her steps. Finally, there was a knock.

"Come in," she commanded.

The door opened, and the Head Huntsman, Roderick's father, stepped in. He gave a deep bow.

"You ask for me, your Highness?"

"Come here, Huntsman; I have a task for you." Her ruby red lips curled up into a sickly sweet smile.

"What may it be?" The huntsman inquired, secretly uneasy.

"I will be blunt with you." The Queen said. "I need you to bring Prince Stephen into the woods and kill him."

The Huntsman usually guarded expression, paled with disbelief.

"Y-Your Majesty?" He stuttered, not sure if he heard correctly.

"Did I whispered it to you?" The Queen mocked, annoyed. "I want you to kill Prince Stephen in the forest and dispose of his body."

"B-But your majesty - he is the prince . . !"

"Silence." Queen Harrica yelled, her face twisted into a hideous mask of pure, unadulterated hatred. "I have given you my command and expect you to follow it. You do not serve the prince! You serve me! ME!"

The Head Huntsman said nothing, but his soul felt as if it was being siphoned merely from being in her presence. He could not believe what she was asking of him.

"Kill him and when you are done, bring me his heart to me. I could use it for a very special potion I'm creating." she grinned, greedily.

The Head Huntsman bowed his head.

"If that is your wish." He tried not to choke on his tears.

"It is - now be gone! And don't return until the deed is done. And you better bring back proof of his death .... or else." she hissed the last part out.

Roderick's father bowed his head further.

"Yes, my Queen."

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Yikes, I would sure hate to serve her. What ever will the Head Huntsman do?

Note: the name Harrica was created from the word harbinger, as in harbinger of doom, since that's what her existence bring to the poor people of Avill.

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