Book
Forever Fair:
A retelling of Snow White
By Elise Pehrson
Part of the Altered Alias series
© 2013, Elise Pehrson. Except as provided by the Copyright Act, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher.
To my husband, Joshua, who supports me every day through his love and encouragement
Chapter One
In life, there will always be people inevitably more beautiful than others. Some people you need to get to know before you see their true beauty, but the world still sees with different eyes. All of us want to see beautiful people; whether or not we acknowledge or even realize that that is what we are doing. We see false idols in these people in whom we often seem to exalt. Little girls choose their favorite princess; which one has longer hair or a more flawless face?
Long ago, there lived a woman who possessed great beauty far above any known in the land. She was the prize jewel of her parents, naturally, as an only daughter she was the apple of her parents’ eyes. She grew up in a somewhat rich home, the daughter of a duke; yet, she always dreamt for much more. One day, Azelia got what she had always desired: a chance at eternal wealth and what appeared to be great happiness. Finally, she would receive what she had always desired. King Jonathon of Château Des Ténèbres desired to marry the most beautiful woman in all the land, and Azelia Pendragon was the one who caught his eye. The wedding was held as soon as possible and the beginning of Azelia’s dream life was to begin. However, for every ideal and wondrous dream, there is a very, very rude awakening.
Years passed by and Azelia enjoyed what seemed to be the life she had always desired. King Jonathon kissed her on the forehead and told her how much he loved her and how beautiful he thought she was on a daily basis. Then one night, things took an unexpected turn for Azelia when she awoke by a painful bump in the road inside a carriage taking her away from the castle she called her home. She looked around, confused and hysterical, only seeing the dark woods around her. Every horrid, black tree seemed to either scowl at her or laugh in pity as the pale beams from the moon cried down on her long, raven-like hair. She stumbled to the other side of the carriage to see who was leading her away into this misty, obscure dusk. Her long fingernails dug deeply into the cushions behind the coachman.
Balancing herself on her knees as she placed her hand on the thin, maroon curtain behind whoever was driving, she pulled her body through and pounced on the figure she felt beyond the drape. A thunk came from the man’s armor as they fell hard unto piles of gravel and stone. The queen wrapped her bleeding legs around the cold armor of this man and ripped off his helmet. She threw it aside and grabbed the freckled man by the head of his dusty, dirty brown hair.
“What do you think you’re doing?” She hissed, pulling harder on the young man’s hair. The young man just panted and squinted his eyes shut. “Answer your queen!” She yelled and smacked the man across the face with the back of her hand, leaving scrapes and scratches from the large diamond and jeweled rings on each of her fingers. The servant wailed in pain, and the queen lifted her hand up once more and gave a look of horror that implied she wouldn’t hesitate to do it again.
“The king!” he finally shouted out and looked into the plum-colored eyes of his queen. Her thin eyebrows creased in confusion and she bit her bottom lip, making it appear even fuller and rosier when she released it to reply.
“What about him?” She griped, vexing tears beginning to swell in her almond-shaped eyes. She blinked her long eyelashes to hold them back as she listened to his reply.
“He wanted me to take you somewhere--,”
“Where!” She shrieked, interrupting the now bleeding servant.
“He wanted me to bring you to the tower,” he quickly responded, squinting his eyes once more. Queen Azelia scowled, still confused but now with a sense of denial arising in her mind.
“What tower?” She muttered but the boy shook his head.
“I cannot tell you, my queen, I need to follow the orders of—,”
“Tell me!” She howled and shook him violently until he finally screamed and replied.
“He found a woman more beautiful than you, my queen,” he squeaked. The queen dropped him and the back of his armor made another loud noise against the hard ground. She pursed her lips and bit her tongue. The servant continued softly, frightened, “He wanted to get rid of you without a scene and without killing you, so he told me to bring you to the tower. No one knows of it but King Jonathon and now you and me.” Fire sparked in the queen’s eyes, lit in her heart, and began searing down her veins. She got up on her feet and placed one foot on the man’s chest.
“Well then,” she calmly replied, “I just cannot let that happen now, can I?” She raised one eyebrow and lowered her body, placing her blood-red lips against the man’s freckled ear and whispered, “I will have to borrow your suit.” She then viciously kicked the man in the face and knocked him unconscious. She gave herself a satisfied half-smile and proceeded to take the man’s armor and put it on herself.
She placed the now muddy helmet onto her head, hopped onto the carriage, called out to the horses, and whipped them to go back towards the Château Des Ténèbres.
Chapter Two
Rain started to make pattering splats on the suit Azelia now wore on her small, agile frame. Fury filled her breaking heart, which was all she could think about as she made her way swiftly towards the castle. That…that vile creature she ranted in her mind why on Earth would he want to get rid of me? He loves me! The sharp silhouette of the castle emerged from beyond the tiresome cluster of trees.
“Whoa,” Azelia whispered to the horses, holding the reins tight against her chest. They snorted then began to gallop more slowly. The horses’ hooves splashed in the murky puddles and clacked against the pebbles on the bridge as they approached the solid gold gate. Azelia pulled the helmet forward, hiding her face deep within its dim shadows. Two knights stood watch at the front of the gate; their faces remained perfectly still and emotionless as the disguised queen made her way to their presence.
“Whoa,” she muttered once more to the large brown, black-speckled beasts. The one with a slightly tanner coat turned its head back towards the queen and looked at her with one of its deep, haunting eyes, as if it knew what she was about to do. Azelia shook the horse’s gaze and turned her eyes to the ominous gate in which she now stood in front of. Her unrecognizable reflection in those thick golden bars shocked even Azelia herself as she held together her alter-persona. She studied the walls standing against the gate as the men within indents inside settled some unknown matter. The rocky walls, held together with brown, red, and gray bricks and stones, strained the gate against each side to ensure no unexpected arrivals. They extended forever into the turbulent clouds above and spun into poignant towers, reminding Azelia of the dark purpose for which she was returning.
The guard finally turned towards her and inspected the carriage behind her. He then looked at the center of her helmet’s eye slits and asked, “Was the package delivered?” Blood boiled in her veins but she bit her lip and nodded in response.
The creaks and groans of the gate echoed in the armor encasing the queen’s trembling incensed body. She nodded once more to the gatekeeper and then trotted her way to the stables. She let the peasant women working within the hay take the beasts and left without facing that unsettling horse’s stare.
She just began running right to the castle’s doors. Soldiers, knights, and sentinels guarding those colossal wooden doors regretted getting in the way of the concealed servant when she skipped up the steps towards them. Many tried stopping her, but she made sure to cast them out of her way. One tried to clasp his gloved fingers around her neck, but she kicked him in the stomach and struck his face with the back of her helmeted head. Another punched her vehemently in the face, but after stumbling a little, she punched him right back and tossed him off the cold concrete staircase.
One of the guards grabbed her by the helmet, thrusting it off, and tossed her to the stairs. She fell limply and skidded down a couple steps, quickly getting up, adrenaline pulsing through her blood. The stunned men looked down at their queen with horrified faces. They just stood there, looking at each other, and then back at her. She let out a shriek and turned around briskly; her coiled dark curls bouncing around her porcelain, grimacing face. She elbowed the man that had just been behind her, and then booted him down the steep stairs. The other men quickly let their queen through, bowing their heads as she looked down at them, disgusted, and spit on the ground next to them. She then proceeded to trudge into the gates of her dream life’s demise.
She silenced any servant and sentinel that got in her way by either a vicious scowl or a swift punch to the stomach. She dragged her feet down the long rows of red carpet lining the castle floor. She passed the dimly lit candles that lined the golden spiral staircase she now found herself clacking her metal shoes on. She slowly started taking off her metallic gloves, casting them off the banister she then clamped her fingernails onto, scraping it in her fury as she ascended up the next forty stairs.
Her heart thumped faster and faster the closer she got to the top. And when she finally took that final step, she closed her eyes and took a long, deep breath, inhaling the scent of wine that drifted beyond the curvy gold-plated doorway. Azelia just stood there for a moment and stared deep into the lines of the smoky gray door. The lines from the wood the door was carved from leaked down onto the carpet of blood. The ruddy tint of the carpet she found herself standing on seemed to whisper for her to avenge for her husband’s unholy deed.
The large grandfather clock, which stood next to the bright gold entrance, ticked and tocked slower and greater as she shifted her feet towards the grim door within the misleading gilded coating. Finally, the startling frigidity of the doorknob touched her mucky skin as she wrapped her flesh-warmed fingers around the curve protruding from the somber, crying door. She quickly glanced over to the clock, her eyes observing the hands: four o’clock in the morning. She switched her gaze back to the door, a million thoughts racing through her mind.
She placed her other quivering hand on the smooth wood of the door, jolted the doorknob, and pushed it wide open. Her fingers left the door that revealed the scene she now found in front of her flaming eyes. King Jonathon dropped a goblet filled with ruddy, bloodshot wine as his face turned ghost-like at the sight of his wife.
Azelia gave him a sadistic smile and teased, “Whatever could be wrong, my love?” She began pacing the room around him, circling him; a vulture around its prey. The king froze and swallowed hard. His silence made the cracked queen cackle her evil yet beautiful face now coated with sweat and fury.
“You have lost your mind, Azelia,” King Jonathon desperately yelped, tripping on the sword sheathed in his belt by his slender side. He tumbled to the ground and scooted away from Azelia like a dog afraid of its master.
“Have I, Jon?” She moved in closer and tilted her head forward, casting a shadow over her eyes. Her teeth were all Jonathon could see on her face, her dark curls blending in with the shadows caressing the bedroom walls. His back hit the bed and it was too late to run—Azelia was centimeters from his face. She leaned in to whisper in his air while one of her hands drew circles on his chest.
“Why do you have that belt on, my dear?” She hissed. Jonathon squinted his eyes shut and blubbered incoherent cries. He was in underclothing of white cloth with a fine golden robe loosely hanging open around his chiseled body; why was he wearing his belt? The belt with the family crest engraved on the side— the brown belt that encased his sword with proper protection. “Aw,” she pouted her lips mockingly, “Were you afraid someone would hurt you tonight?”
“Azelia, you know I love you,” he said between trembles. Azelia backed her face away from his and shot lightning through her pupils.
“Is that why you ordered me away!” She shouted and extracted his sword from around his waist.
“Azelia no! I saved you!” He howled in desperation. She roared and pushed him against the thick wooden bedpost with the cross-hilted sword’s piercing blade pushing against his Adam’s apple.
“How is that?” she growled, “How?”
“Other kings would have killed you! I—,”
“Sent me away to be imprisoned in a tower for the rest of my life?” She finished and scoffed. She spit on the king’s face and whispered, “I trusted you after what happened two years ago,” the king sheepishly blinked, “I gave you your chance.” Then, summoning every ounce of strength she had left inside of her trembling body, she thrashed him in the stomach with his own sword. With her mind and conscience now forever gone, she smiled and dropped the weapon to her side.
“Jonathon, I heard a yell, are you all right?” Azelia’s eyebrow cocked and her grin spread across her face. She turned around to look at the horrified mistress’s gaping face. The trembling woman looked all around the room, clutched the doorknob and looked as though she were about to scream.
“I would not do that if I were you,” Azelia suggested with a sinister sneer, “Why don’t you close that door and come bow to your queen.” Tears burst through the woman’s cringing eyelids. She knew she had no choice—she was the mistress of the king. She had no connection to the royal family and could not be protected by the guards from anyone, much less the queen. She shuffled slowly forward and kneeled in front of Queen Azelia. Azelia stroked the sword with her threatening fingertips, taunting the young woman whom was now clutching her waving golden hair frightfully—her body shaking as she gulped back cries.
Azelia placed her hand on the pretty girl’s sopping wet face, “Oh my dear,” she whispered sardonically, “this will only hurt for a moment.”
Chapter Three
Two years prior
“He is having an affair with another woman—a princess in another kingdom—and now he’s planning on locking me away,” Azelia sobbed in disbelief to her mother and continued, “I heard him talking to her; he wants to marry her but does not want to kill me…” her voice trailed off and she began to cry once more. Her mother’s graying black hair spilled over Azelia as she put her arms around Azelia’s young and heartbroken shoulders. “What kind of life would I be living in an old isolated castle anyway?” She cried and crossed her arms.
“Now Azelia, I’m sure that—,”
“No, Mother, you don’t know! I would much rather die!”
“Hush!” Her mother silenced in a worried plea. Azelia shamefacedly looked down at her bare feet emerging from underneath the twelve-layered silk gown she was dressed in. “Nothing is worth death,” she stated and looked out the window of her daughter’s wing of the castle—a room encrusted with doilies and beautiful, unique and rare curtains and knick-knacks. The bed for her daughter’s napping was the most beautiful piece in the room; the centerpiece of her daughter’s now wealthy standing. It had bows and curtains on the three feather mattresses stacked on top of each other underneath two handmade quilts of the finest cloths and silk. From each corner of the bed projected a single golden bar with diamond-studded vines and roses swirling up to the top where the ties for the canopy made a bow.
“Mother,” Azelia broke the silence, scooting herself up further on the soft, fluffy bed, “I know what I have to do.”
“Try again,” the guard instructed, nudging his head in an attempt to motion her to get up. She exhaled, annoyed, and got herself up and put her arms in the correct position in front of her torso. “Now, go!” And with that, the two of them brawled until one would fall, like the previous thirty times today. The guard training Azelia blocked her with his forearm and grabbed her tiny body, twisted her around, and shoved her towards the wall of the dimly lit back quarters of the castle. More rumors of the queen’s kidnapping floated throughout the castle, and some even spoke of death. Azelia wanted to be able to protect herself for the future ahead, but of course she had to hide from Jonathon and any loyal servants of his.
She grunted in exasperation, “I am never going to get this down!” She shouted and kicked a board coming off of the wall.
“Yes you will, my lady, now let us try this again.”
“You cannot win, Jonathon,” the queen came in ranting a few weeks after her training was complete. The king put on a baffled expression and innocently replied.
“Whatever do you mean, love?” The naïve, young Azelia clenched her fists.
“You know what I mean,” she spat out disgustingly, “You want to dispose of me like waste,” she walked closer to the king and nervously spat at his feet. The king kept his composure and simply gave a half smile to his wife. Azelia, now enraged, bit her lip and slapped him across the face. The king grabbed her wrist; Azelia winced in pain.
“I love you, Azelia,” King Jonathon whispered in the young woman’s ear, “I would never hurt you,”
“But I heard—,”
“What?” he interrupted, “Rumors?” the queen avoided his stare, but he put his hands on her face, releasing her wrist, and looked deep into her eyes, “They are just rumors, my love,” he smiled down at her and kissed her trembling lips. Azelia knew she had heard the king himself speaking of her disposal, but she knew that saying anything about that would just get her in trouble; just nodding and trusting him were all she knew how to do. Besides, he knows that she isn’t stupid and oblivious now; he could never get rid of her.
Chapter Four
“Someone has killed the king!” Azelia ran out shouting to the guards, “It was this vile creature! His mistress! I slew her after she murdered him,” She convinced the guards as they ran in to take care of the scene, including King Jonathon’s lifeless body.
“You must rest, your highness, you do not need to be upset by this,” the queen gave an innocent nod and pretended to cry as she walked with two of her maids down to her napping quarters. The rage in her heart still fumed with blind fury and the queen wondered why she was not satisfied.
She remained immensely bewildered as she made her way inside of the room, twisting her nervous fingers around part of the bloodstained armor she had stolen. Knowing they would pay for asking, the maids left without muttering a word about the garb they found their queen wearing. Whether or not they believed the tale the queen spouted out did not matter in the slightest; she was their queen, and no matter how crazy she was, they had to blindly follow.
The room was silent around Azelia as her rapidly beating heart consumed her mind. She clenched her fists and hit the walls, screaming. She ran over to the center of the room where her canopy bed still stood. She lunged herself on top of the fluffy bedding and dug her nails deep into the fine wooden headboard. “Why am I not satisfied?” She murmured under her breath. Then it hit her.
“It was not Jonathon…” The queen muttered, “It couldn’t have been! It was… that woman. That…woman…” She yelled and threw a mirror from her bedside table across the room; she watched as its glass shattered against the wall. She slid her body off the bed and slowly walked over to the shards by the wall and window. She picked up a piece and looked into it. “Men lose their minds when beautiful women come into their lives…” The queen stood there looking at herself in deep thought. Then, giving a sinister chuckle, she said to herself, “I simply must…eliminate anyone more beautiful than me…”
She glimpsed up at the window and saw her kingdom. She threw the shard onto the ground and placed her hands on the glass of the window. This kingdom will pay for its treacheries
Verlag: BookRix GmbH & Co. KG Texte: Elise Pehrson Alle Rechte vorbehalten Widmung:Impressum
Bildmaterialien: Cover design: Vivian Tan Ai Hua – http://www.facebook.com/aihua.art
Lektorat: Elise Pehrson
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 15.03.2013
ISBN: 978-3-7309-1477-9
To my husband, Joshua