So Rot Vie Blut {3/3} {Repost}afterandalasiaMay 20 2014, 11:23:44 UTC
It is six months before she receives the letter.
It appears beside her bed one morning, and none claim to remember how it came to be there. Grimhilde recognises the calligraphy in an instant, and she feels as if her heart might stop in her chest.
Know that you are an imposter upon my throne. I will have your blood, and your beauty will mean nothing when it spreads upon the ground.
At the bottom is a kiss of dried blood. The letter falls from her trembling hand, and Grimhilde stares at her own ghostly reflection in the mirror. All of her life she had been told of her beauty, but it was a mere fact, nothing more. Memories of Snow White's sharp looks and angry behaviours, her flaunting of her sexual appeal, suddenly crystallise into the knowledge that the girl was jealous, of Grimhilde's looks and of her role as regent.
Revealing the threat to her court would mean revealing that the girl is alive. Her courtiers are pressuring her to remarry, proffering her princes and noblemen who are old enough to not be fools and young enough to still be handsome. Though none of them spur love in her, she had already decided that she would find one suitable to marry, that before she is too old she might have a child to rule after her.
But Snow White should have been dead.
"I'm sorry," Nikolaus whispers, when he finally breaks. His back is whipped to ribbons by then, salt water stinging in the wounds. "I'm sorry. I let her go."
"Why?" There is fear in Grimhilde's words.
"She was so beautiful." There is blood in his mouth from where he has bitten his lip, his tongue, his cheeks. "So ripe, so wanting..."
Grimhilde knows that Snow White will return before too long. She simply does not know how to prepare a defence for that day.
It is over a year from Snow White's disappearance when she reappears at the gates. Her womanliness is still growing in; her dress is too tight, too short, flashing an inch of ankle and straining at her full breasts. At her side walks one of the princes to whom Grimhilde was introduced some months before, his hand protectively around her, that fiercely defensive look that she knows so well in his eye.
Snow White offers one of her blood-red smiles to the gatekeepers.
It appears beside her bed one morning, and none claim to remember how it came to be there. Grimhilde recognises the calligraphy in an instant, and she feels as if her heart might stop in her chest.
Know that you are an imposter upon my throne. I will have your blood, and your beauty will mean nothing when it spreads upon the ground.
At the bottom is a kiss of dried blood. The letter falls from her trembling hand, and Grimhilde stares at her own ghostly reflection in the mirror. All of her life she had been told of her beauty, but it was a mere fact, nothing more. Memories of Snow White's sharp looks and angry behaviours, her flaunting of her sexual appeal, suddenly crystallise into the knowledge that the girl was jealous, of Grimhilde's looks and of her role as regent.
Revealing the threat to her court would mean revealing that the girl is alive. Her courtiers are pressuring her to remarry, proffering her princes and noblemen who are old enough to not be fools and young enough to still be handsome. Though none of them spur love in her, she had already decided that she would find one suitable to marry, that before she is too old she might have a child to rule after her.
But Snow White should have been dead.
"I'm sorry," Nikolaus whispers, when he finally breaks. His back is whipped to ribbons by then, salt water stinging in the wounds. "I'm sorry. I let her go."
"Why?" There is fear in Grimhilde's words.
"She was so beautiful." There is blood in his mouth from where he has bitten his lip, his tongue, his cheeks. "So ripe, so wanting..."
Grimhilde knows that Snow White will return before too long. She simply does not know how to prepare a defence for that day.
It is over a year from Snow White's disappearance when she reappears at the gates. Her womanliness is still growing in; her dress is too tight, too short, flashing an inch of ankle and straining at her full breasts. At her side walks one of the princes to whom Grimhilde was introduced some months before, his hand protectively around her, that fiercely defensive look that she knows so well in his eye.
Snow White offers one of her blood-red smiles to the gatekeepers.
"Tell the Queen that I have returned."
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Particularly nice touch with the "kiss" signature. I'm going to remember that one...
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