i'll eat her heart i'll totally do it

Snow White, the princess of the manor and the King’s only child, stood by the well in the courtyard. A crowd of animals had hopped, flown, and scampered their way from the wood to hear all about the new addition to the royal family. They sat in front of her while she spoke:

"…Oh, it’s such a nice thing. Not everyone gets two mothers you know. And oh dear, some don’t get any at all!" said Snow White, plucking another flower from the ground and arranging it into her bouquet. "I’ve had so many dreams about her, my new mother I mean. Why, she’ll be kind and thoughtful, caring and sweet, and we’ll sing together and dance all day long."

The animals nodded in agreement as she turned her attention towards the well. She was so small and couldn’t see over the top of the well, even when she lifted up on her tiptoes. A quick thinking fox nudged a large rock at her feet, and several birds grasped her gown and helped her up. She thanked them and set her bouquet on the edge of the well. 

"Would you like to hear a secret?" she asked her friends. A row of bunnies nodded simultaneously. "But you have to promise not to tell anyone." A pair of sparrows chirped and all the other animals promised. "This isn’t just any well; it’s a wishing well!" she said. "All you have to do is make a wish and it will come true. I discovered it just a few days ago," she cleared her throat ceremoniously and looked into the well. 

"I wish my father will be very, very happy," she said. Everyone was quiet for a moment, but then she clapped her hands together. "There!" she giggled, and suddenly a voice from across the courtyard rang out. "Snow!" cried one of her nursemaids. "Come in quickly! She’s here!" 

Snow White’s eyes widened, and she stepped daintily off the rock and lifted her skirts to run towards her nursemaid. Then, with a small gasp, she remembered she’d left the bouquet on the well. But a small fawn had already grabbed it for her, and held it delicately in his mouth. She curtseyed to the fawn and accepted her bouquet, then dashed towards the house. 

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She was beautiful. Her hair was like nighttime, and her skin smooth as the marble statues that adorned the foyer. Snow White knew she loved her when she crouched down to eye level to speak to her. She waited patiently during the introduction, then curtseyed and smiled shyly. 

"It’s very nice to meet you, mother," she said, holding out the bouquet. Her voice went from a whisper to a shout when she saw her father standing in the doorway.

“Thank you, Snow White. These are lovely. I’ll have someone put them in my room right away,”

She stood, and handed the bouquet over to one of the servants who stepped forward, but before she could crouch again, the girl had dashed past her, shouting for her father, and Grimhilde felt relief wash over her. Now that their introduction was over, she was already floundering, searching desperately for another topic – what did children like to talk about? Dolls? Games? Did she go to school? Did she do anything?

At least her father was taking care of her now; he was hugging her tightly, and she was chattering at him as she stood to the wayside, feeling a twinge of jealousy. She didn’t particularly want to have Snow White’s attention, she wouldn’t know what to do if she did, but surely a new stepmother was a far more interesting sight than the man she had presumably seen every day of her life? Her smile slipped a little, and she turned away from the pair, only to catch sight of something on the floor –the ribbon that Snow White had worn in her hair. Crouching down, she picked it up, running it through her fingers as she looked over to her family once more, before crushing it in her fist and slipping it into her pocket. It wouldn’t be missed. And apparently, neither would she. Beckoning for one of the servants, she asked for her things to be brought to her room and quietly took her leave; the bouquet Snow White had given her was already forgotten before she’d reached the staircase.

It didn’t take long for Grimhilde to settle into her role as consort, and she found herself enjoying it immensely. She had very quickly started working towards taking her place with Disney’s elite and was fairly confident that, within the space of a few short months, she had become an integral part of high society. She met with the other royal consorts over the course of the week for high tea and brunch, planned and attended parties at the weekend and began to establish herself within the political circle, often accompanying her husband to events where she took on the role of the observer. She had become very good at pretending to seem uninterested, and busy with other tasks whilst simultaneously listening to every word that was said. Her mother had drilled that skill into her at a young age, and she employed it at every opportunity. A consort with a pretty face was good, yes, (and she knew she was more than just a pretty face), but one who was politically active was indispensable, and she did not have any plans to abandon her post in the future. She was enjoying it too much for that. It was because of this that most of her time was spent maintaining that position over the next few months, when it wasn’t spent enjoying the last of the honeymoon period with her new husband, and she’d been so busy, she’d seen very little of Snow White, until she was asked to escort her to her first day of kindergarten.

It wasn’t a situation she particularly wanted to be in. The girl was sweet, always chipper and cheerful, but Grimhilde had had trouble warming to her. She still wasn’t ready to play mother, no matter how hard she tried, and so had spent the best part of her time avoiding the task altogether. It was easy to make small talk during meals, mostly because the girl and her father could keep up a conversation with very little input from her, but this would be the two of them alone and she was woefully unprepared for that. Her attempts to find someone else to escort the girl, however, proved fruitless, and so she awoke the morning Snow White started school with a feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach.

Still, that was no reason not to make every effort to look her best. Had the old fashions still been kept, she would have escorted her in full cape and crown; instead, she picked out her best casual dress and heels and set about doing her hair. She had been awake almost an hour before she felt ready to face the child, and sent for someone to fetch her at seven thirty, just as she sat down at her vanity to do her make-up. On the table sat the child’s red ribbon. Grimhilde had tossed it aside months prior, and never made much of an effort to clear it away. Now, it caught her eye, and she lit upon an idea that would hopefully endear her to the child, and vice versa, though when the door opened and the maid brought her, she didn’t make an effort to turn to see her, prioritizing instead her beauty routine.