Duty and Doom

Part 3: Black as Death

Thirteen years later . . .

"Announcing the Royal Queen Mara White of the Rhylle Kingdom!" The herald cried. Mara paused at the entrance of the ballroom. Something was wrong. Instead of cheering crowds, her arrival was met with stony silence. A faint murmuring began in the masses and spread like wildfire as the people whispered to each other. 

When the room remained quiet, Mara swallowed and took a tentative step forward, entering the room. She gained confidence as nobody obstructed her path and made her way over to a royal blue chaise in the corner of the room, determined to watch the proceedings. She couldn't gather the strength to mingle with the guests, for the familiar scene carried her mind back thirteen years to a birthday party. It had been the last birthday party she had ever attended, for it all reminded her of her daughter. Of Snow.

Now, the king of the Amarog Kingdom was hosting a birthday ball for his own fiancée, displaying her to the world for the first time. Who was it? No one knew. She was rumoured to be a stranger found on the edge of the woods in a coffin, unconscious. The prince had instantly become enamoured with the girl's pretty face and had commanded that she be brought back to the Amarog Palace for a proper burial. While the servants were carrying the coffin, one slipped which loosened the piece of fruit that the girl had choked on and enabled her to resume breathing.

 The prince instantly proposed to her, and she gratefully accepted his marriage offer. There were many reasons offered for how the princess was able to revive after being dead for such a long time, but the most popular one bandied about by the kingdom's gossips was that the forest itself had sustained her, that the mysterious girl possessed strange and unusual forest magic that protected her from harm.

When Mara had inquired after the validity of the gossip, she had instantly thought of her daughter, Snow. But how could that be? Snow was dead, killed by Mara herself. Snow was a curse, one that was prophesied to destroy the world if left alone. There was only one way to find out if her suspicions were correct. With this in mind, Mara had procured an invitation to go and meet the enigmatic woman herself at her debut. Another herald's voice pierced the hum of the crowds, causing them to fall silent and snapping Mara's mind back to the present.

"And now, without further ado, the guest of honour betrothed to our beloved King. Presenting Princess Snow White of the Rhylle Kingdom!" The herald cried, his voice brimming with happiness. Mara froze, numb, as a slim figure garbed in a pink ball gown slowly descended the stairs. No. No. No. It couldn't be true; it was an imposter who had heard tales of the lost princess and was masquerading as her. A tremor ran through Mara's limbs, and her mouth snapped open and closed as though she was gasping for air. After all these years, when she had thought she had succeeded, Snow was back.

Snow murmured something to a guard by her side, and he disappeared into the crowd. Mara barely registered that he had left the girl's side, for she was transfixed by her daughter. The young girl had blossomed into a beauty, with rosy cheeks the shade of apples. But it was her, for she still possessed the ebony black hair, the blood red lips, and the skin as white as snow.

Suddenly, Mara was grabbed from behind by Snow's royal guards. Her arms were secured behind her back before she had time to blink. By the time she began to struggle, it was too late. The guards roughly escorted the Queen of Rhylle down to the dungeon and forcibly shoved her into a dank, dark cell that smelled of mildew and rot.

"The princess would like to play with you, Queen. Meanwhile, this gorgeous room shall become your palace. A pity we couldn't put a mirror in here," he sneered, his last comment eliciting a chuckle from his men. Mara ignored him, turning to the wall. There was no use protesting, for that would only prolong the inevitable. She thought of Maruk while she waited. What would he think when she neglected to visit him? Would he ever escape his prison?

Her reveries were shattered as the cell door was roughly pushed open, and guards pulled her out of her cell. Bright sunlight flooded her eyes, and she fumbled, temporarily blinded by the light. The crackle of a fire and the smell of smoke drew her attention, and she surveyed her surroundings. She was in a courtyard full of gardens in full bloom. The sweet aroma of flowers perfumed the air, but smoke from a roaring bonfire in the centre had overpowered their scent. Beside the bonfire was a makeshift throne, and on that throne was a familiar face.

"Snow White. My daughter," Mara gasped when she noticed the figure. She felt faint; it could not be. It was her daughter's turn for revenge.

"How dare you? You have relinquished any right you had to call me mother when you first sent Retta to murder me in the forest. You tried and failed three times; now it's my turn. And unlike you, woman, I will succeed," Snow spat, her face twisted with hatred. "Guards, bring forth the shoes."

A royal guard reached forth with a pair of tongs into the blazing inferno and lifted out a pair of iron shoes, placing them by Mara's feet. She stared down at them, numb. Her day of reckoning was here. Snow may have escaped thrice, but Mara had no hope of survival. The world was plunging into ruin, and it was all her fault. There was no use in protesting, no use in trying to evade the fate established for her. Here, she would die and here, the hope for a glorious future would die, too. When she stepped into the shoes, she did so with dignity and quiet confidence. She may die, but she would never break.

"Dance, Queen White, dance!" Princess Snow screamed, breaking into maniacal laughter. And Mara complied. She danced, danced until her feet burned. She danced until the stench of burning flesh filled the air. She danced until she could dance no more. Snow watched with malevolent satisfaction as her mother's face grew white with agony. Finally, she motioned to her soldiers. "I'm bored. Kill her."

Mara gazed at her daughter, shocked and hurt. Had she made her daughter the monster that she had become? By attempting to muder her daughter, had she created the very thing that she feared? Mara sighed. Fate had different plans for the future, plans that could not be changed. And that future did not include her. She felt the cold point of the guard's sword on her neck, and tilted her chin to give him access. Once, she had been innocent and naïve, determined to save the world. Now, she was older and wiser. Now, she realised that the cruel world did not deserve redemption. With her last breath, she reached out trembling arms to Snow, her daughter.

"Whatever you do, my darling, do not become a monster," Mara moaned as the pain consumed her. Snow stared at her for a moment, then nodded at the guard. With an effortless motion, he slit her mother's throat. Snow had done it; she had completed her task. However, she looked at her mother's blood with an expression akin to regret.

"Oh, but mother, I already am a monster," she whispered, turning back to the castle.