hemlock in evening wine

The portal is disorienting, so when they arrive back on solid ground Lesso keeps her eyes tightly shut. It would not be becoming for her to vomit all over the silky fabric she can feel has replaced her suit. She’s clutching something hard in her hands, and its cool, smooth surface is definitely not her cane, and she’s pretty sure falling flat on her face isn’t the best start to a quest. So Lesso keeps her head down, breathes deep, and doesn’t open her eyes until she thinks the world might have stopped spinning.

Deep breath one more time, and–

“What the hell?” Lesso demands, her eyes going wide as she looks down. Her suit has been replaced, like she suspected, but she’s wearing a royal purple silk gown, and she can barely remember the last time she had ever voluntarily put on a dress. It hugs her body comfortably, and is tied at the waist with a lasso-like belt.

It looks, in short, like nothing she would ever choose for herself.

“What the actual fucking fuck?” She’s reeling inside. Can the Storian do this?

“Lesso?” The voice comes from the smooth object she’s clutching.

She snaps her head back down around and almost twists her neck because of the incredibly heavy crown she wears. “Fuck,” she mutters to herself, before straightening and seeing Dovey in her handheld mirror. She’s about to turn– something is stepping on her cape, fitted tightly around her shoulders, which is connected to her neckline and choking her– when she stops cold.

She’s standing upright without pain, first of all, and she doesn’t have her cane in hand. Secondly: Dovey. Mirror.

She looks back down at her hand.

“Princess, you’re in a mirror.”

The mirror, which has distinctly Dovey-like features but is also the color of liquid mercury, rolls its eyes. Her eyes? Lesso’s brain is overloading. “Thank you for your insight.” Her eyes, reflecting Lesso’s purple eyes, look Lesso up and down slowly, before her mouth, reflecting Lesso’s face, opens and says, “And you’re dressed like the Evil Queen.”

“You’re welcome,” Lesso replies, dumbly. “What the fuck?” She lifts Dovey- the mirror- Dovey, she decides on calling her because the way she rolls her eyes is undoubtedly Dovey, closer to her face to see herself.

“Shit.”

She’s wearing a long, black cape, her hair is concealed in her cap, and Dovey is right, she is dressed exactly like Grimhilde. She reaches up to pull a curl out. In the light, it’s still her normal fiery red. She sighs, relieved. On closer inspection, she can see that her features are still her own, so she just looks like she’s trying to be Grimhilde for some kind of high-budget Halloween party.

“I’m dressed like Grimhilde,” Lesso says, still in shock.

“And I’m a mirror. Deal with it.” Dovey sounds aggravated, which Lesso supposes she could understand. She doubts it would be comfortable being turned into an inanimate, living object. And Dovey has never been the type to get motion sickness easily. She’s probably had time to get angry about the fact that she’s a mirror now while Lesso pulled herself together. “How did this happen?”

“I-” Lesso gestures helplessly, and watches as the person in the mirror with her face but Grimhilde’s body gestures with her. “I have no clue.”

They stare at one another for a while. Lesso isn’t quite sure if she’s staring at herself or if she’s staring at Dovey, but one way or another both of them have no idea what to do. They’ve both done quests before, yes, and Dovey was part of one of the most famous fairy tales of all time, but never before had either of them become a character in the story that wasn’t, well, them.

Luckily, Lesso recovers first.

“Well, princess, I suppose now you really are my sidekick.” She watches herself smirk in the mirror, and it is the most distorting thing to see her own face reflected on the contours of Dovey’s. It's bewitching, a little disconcerting, and she nearly reaches her hand out to trace Dovey’s features, always beautifully carved before but now literally made of glass. Luckily, she stops herself in time.

Dovey blinks, before clearly pulling herself out of her thoughts enough to roll her eyes. “So, what is going on? Are you the Evil Queen now?”

Lesso frowns. They hadn’t planned for this. “I don’t know. If I’m not, however, Grimhilde is going to have a fucking blast when she sees this.” Lesso gestures at her gown and groans. “She’s never going to let me live this down.”

Another thought strikes her, “Hold on. Is the Grimhilde in this story the same person I knew? Or have we entered some, I don’t know, alternate universe? ”

“I don’t know.” Dovey sounds increasingly frustrated, and though normally Lesso would definitely be enjoying it, right now it’s rubbing off on her.

“Can you show me Snow White, then?” Lesso asks, wondering if Dovey has actually become the Magic Mirror.

“Ask me.”

Lesso lifts an eyebrow. “Demanding, are we? You know, on second thought, I’ve never understood why Grimhilde was so obsessed with being the most beautiful–”

“Just ask me!” Dovey screeches, and it shocks Lesso enough that she shuts up immediately. Dovey doesn’t scream often, but apparently, being turned into a mirror is enough to compel one to do so. “I am a mirror, Lesso, a mirror! I can’t feel my legs, or my arms, or anything at all, so ponder the nature of Evil later and just ask me the dang question so we can get out of here!”

“Get out of here–” Lesso starts to ask, but Dovey gives her another glare, one that tells Lesso Dovey is burning the ends of her patience. “Fine. Magic Mirror in my hand,” she says, resisting the urge to roll her eyes, “who is the fairest in all the land?”

“Snow White is, my Queen.” Dovey’s voice takes on a deeper timbre, and though it is still her, something about even the way she looks at Lesso changes. Her gaze now is cold, impassive, even plotting, and it’s such a strange picture on Dovey’s face that Lesso nearly drops her. She watches as Dovey’s face morphs until Lesso is no longer staring at Dovey, but is instead staring at the picture of a young girl.

The girl has skin like ivory, lips the color of pomegranate juice, and hair as dark as night. She’s dressed in a simple blue dress. Even so, she’s stunning, though she is nothing more than a child. Instantly Lesso understands why Grimhilde never chose to question the Mirror’s judgment that Snow White is the fairest in all the lands. Snow White is objectively, without a doubt, the most beautiful person Lesso’s ever laid eyes on.

“Princess?” Lesso calls cautiously, when the picture of Snow White fades back to Dovey’s face, instantly more comforting than Snow White’s was despite the child's striking beauty. Lesso chalks it up to the fact that she knows how to push Dovey’s buttons, but she doesn’t know how to push Snow White’s. Yet.

“Did you see her?” Dovey answers her, speaking normally again. She looks tired, and Lesso nods. She had no idea mirrors could even look tired. “Does she live up to her name?”

Lesso blinks once, then cackles. “She’ll pass Beautification, don’t you worry.”

Dovey rolls her eyes, though she does look more like herself, the paleness of her face fading until she looks like her normal, annoyed self at Lesso’s presence. “I mean, does she still look like she’s supposed to in the original story? We don’t know if our presence has changed anything else in the fairy tale.”

“She’s pretty, that’s for sure.” For some reason, Lesso doesn’t stop there. “I don’t know about prettiest in the land, though. Didn’t you say something about grace and beauty, princess?”

“What do you–” Dovey cuts herself off. Somehow, even though her face is made of glass, it tinges red as she flushes, surely remembering the time they stood in front of the new students at orientation. Dovey had said, then, “Grace and beauty first?” Lesso had paused in surprise, before Dovey went first.

“I didn’t mean–”

Lesso waves her hand, cutting Dovey off effectively. She isn’t sure what is going to come out of Dovey’s mouth, and she dislikes immensely the feeling of things out of control. “So, what do you think I should do?”

Dovey opens her mouth to answer, but then a booming voice comes from outside her room. “My queen, art thee in there?”

Lesso meets Dovey’s eyes, the understanding that the story is beginning clear in both of their eyes, before Lesso thinks quickly and hides Dovey in her extraordinarily long cape. She answers, after deciding that if the king is going to behead her for impersonating the queen, well, she’s not going down without a fight, “In here.”

The door is pushed open and in waltzes a man who, even in Lesso’s current and shorter state, is dwarfed by her.

“Darling, there thou art. I have been seeking thee.”

Lesso looks at him curiously. He shows no sign of confusion, as though she is Grimhilde and has always been Grimhilde in this universe. Smarting against being forced into a heterosexual marriage without warning, Lesso replies, “Well, you found me. What’s up?”

The king glances at her in confusion for a second before clearly dismissing whatever he was thinking in favor of saying, “I wished to seek thy guidance on Snow White’s education. She is growing into the most beautiful damsel, is she not?”

The king is watching her carefully. It should make Lesso uncomfortable, the scrutiny, because it is almost as though he is willing her to say something. But it’s been a long time since Lesso has been bothered by someone else’s expectations, so she just says, “She is.” She means it wholeheartedly as well, and she thinks the king sees it because somehow, he looks disappointed.

“Quite the most entrancing girl in all the land, is she not?” The king probes again, his light gray eyes searching hers.

This is ridiculous, Lesso decides. She bites her tongue before she can say what she normally would in this situation, and instead replies, in a sickeningly sweet voice, “She must take after her mother.” Ignoring the blatant shock the king doesn’t even bother to hide, she continues, “What is this about Snow White?”

“She ages by the day, dearest, and ‘tis my most ardent wish that thou art to take over her lessons so that she may learn only from the best how make a good wife.”

Lesso stares for a moment, and when it is obvious he isn’t joking, chooses to blurt out, “She’s seven.” She’s also unsure where the king gets the impression that she is a good wife, but that’s something she’ll think about later.

“Art thee under the belief that ‘tis too late already?” The dismay on his face is nearly comical. “I had but her best intentions in mind, yet–”

“No.” Lesso interrupts. “It’s not too late. I’ll make sure someone sees to it.”

“Marvelous! I am entrusting her entirely to thy embrace,” he says, and the strange feeling of him waiting for her reaction comes over Lesso again. When it’s clear she isn’t about to say anything, the king continues, looking confused, “Thy conscience will be responsible for all her woes and wiles. Entirely. Only thee.”

“Fine.” Lesso says, trying to sound cheery. “Now, if you’ll pardon me, I have,” she says the first thing that comes into her mind, “gardening to attend to.”

She curtsies as best as she knows how. For a moment, she is almost certain that she will fall, but she doesn't. It is almost impossible for her to hold in the glee she feels as she strides away. The king murmurs something that sounds like, “Gardening?” behind her, but she doesn’t falter.

As soon as she’s sure she is far enough away from the king, she stops. She can feel Dovey waiting to be addressed, but first, she lays the mirror face down carefully. She unties her cloak, sets it down next to Dovey, and then takes off her crown as well.

Lesso hazards a quick look around her to make sure there are no people nearby to see her, and then she takes her gown into both her hands and runs.

She runs, runs as fast as she can, in a straight line and then in a curved line, then in a circle and then back in a straight line again. The exhilaration is nearly bubbling out of her, and the smile that breaks across her face is so wide it nearly hurts. Each breath she takes, each step she takes, feels like water after a dehydration spree, like air after drowning. She suppresses the hysterical laugh that threatens to rip out of her, and runs and runs and runs. She wants to take off her hood, to feel the wind streaking through her hair, but the hood would take longer to put back on. Besides, who knows how long she’ll be in this world. She’ll have plenty of chances.

She resists the urge to whoop loudly, and runs some more. Storian above, each step she takes is springy, each step is painless, each step perfectly and undoubtedly whole. The ground is not tugging her down, her leg isn’t weighed down. The years of unsolicited sorrow fly free from her, and she’s free, flying. Whole.

She runs until she’s panting, out of breath, sweating underneath her hood, and she can’t quench the smile that wretches itself across her face. She can run again.

Dovey is clearly less happy than she is when Lesso trudges back to her discarded cloak and picks her up from the ground. “Did you really have to put me– Are you okay, Lesso?” The Good Dean’s voice is surprisingly concerned. “You’re very red.”

Something stops Lesso from saying anything about running. She likes keeping people on their toes, never knowing if she actually needs her cane or if she just uses it to be intimidating, so she just shrugs. “I’m taking capes off the options for attire in our curriculum. They’re inconvenient.”

“Good idea.” Dovey says absently. Lesso can tell that isn't all she wants to ask, but for now, Dovey acquiesces. “You’re the actual queen now. Do you think you can find your way back to your room?”

“Can’t you morph into, I don’t know, a GPS?”

Dovey glares at her. It’s becoming very familiar, the texture of Dovey’s glare. Lesso grins wider. “I can. Just,” and her face morphs into an actual map of the castle, with a blinking dot marking where they are now. It’s quite impressive.

“Don’t you have an impressive face, princess.”

Somehow, the kitchen morphs into a mouth, and Dovey replies, “Shut up and get moving.”

Lesso smirks.

It turns out that there are very few things Lesso needs to do to be the evil stepmother. In fact, despite the king’s wishes and badgering, for the first week, Lesso very successfully avoids the young princess. Ironically, considering what she does, she hates children. Maybe that's why she's the Dean of Evil.

But luck is very rarely on Evil’s side, and Lesso should’ve known better than to hope that she could avoid Snow White for the entirety of her quest.

“Stepmother!” The little princess that walks out of the room to her side to stand in front of her is even more startlingly beautiful than the mirror had showed. Her skin is milky, blemish-less, and even with her head bent to the floor in a flawless curtsy Lesso can tell that she’s going to grow up to be a showstopper in every room she walks into.

Lesso couldn’t care less. “Snow White. What do you want?”

The little girl lifts her head up, clearly shocked. She splutters for a moment, and Lesso watches, thriving in the discomfort radiating off the seven year old girl. “Stepmother, may I-" Her little shoulders straighten as she seems to take a deep breath. "May I venture to the well to visit my birds?”

Lesso raises an eyebrow. The little girl flinches. Usually, Lesso would enjoy this blatant display of fear, but on the other hand, she’s on a quest.

“Of course.”

Snow White’s brown eyes widen, so surprised that Lesso really has to wonder what Grimhilde did to her before that makes her so happy to go outside and play with winged vermin. “I thank thee, most gracious stepmother!” Snow White says, still prim and proper, and curtsies before she walks off, small head held high.

If nothing else, Snow White certainly is royalty. Dovey, evidently, agrees. “She’s a good kid,” the mirror Lesso had sewed into her cape remarks absently, her eyes faraway. “She’ll make a good consort.”

Lesso frowns, and detaches the mirror from her cape to lift it up to her eye line. “Did you just say Snow White will make a good wife?”

“Hm? Oh. Yes.” Dovey’s face reflects Lesso’s own. Their faces are mashed together in the mirror, like one face with two sides. Lesso nearly doesn’t register it, though, because she’s still focused on what Dovey said.

“Is that what you teach your kids in Good Deeds?”

“Of course,” Dovey answers, looking confused.

“Storian above,” Lesso turns her eyes skyward and resists the urge to roll her eyes. “What happens if a girl doesn’t want a prince?”

If Lesso didn’t know better, she’d say Dovey looks almost sad at her question. “She becomes a fairy godmother.”

Lesso takes a moment to consider the implications of Dovey’s statement, but then she decides to go with her heart, because, “That’s fucked up. Dicks and early granny status aren’t the only paths to happiness, you know.”

Dovey bristles immediately at that. “Oh, and marrying a person you don’t love for power is?”

“At least we aren't trophy wives for men to parade around.”

“At least we’re happy!” Dovey replies, sounding both angry and uncertain.

“Happy? Is that a question, princess?” Lesso says, propping the mirror up on a nearby cabinet so she doesn’t have to keep holding it up.

“What? No, of course not. Everyone knows Good gets Happily Ever Afters, and–”

Lesso interrupts, a mighty sneer spreading across her face. “At least we Nevers aren't waiting around for someone else to save us. How many Evers can say that?”

“At least my Evers aren't dead!”

Lesso stops moving, freezes completely. The silence after what Dovey says is pounding. Something in Lesso’s face must scare Dovey, because she says, immediately, haltingly, almost tearfully, “I- I didn’t mean that, Lesso, I-”

Lesso ignores her, and puts the mirror back into her pocket. Because Dovey might not have meant to be cruel, but is she wrong? The princesses haven’t had half an independent thought in their brains since Rafal took over the schools, yet the villains still never live long enough to even get an Ever After. It makes her shiver with anger. As if hurting her wasn’t enough, he ruined an entire generation of Evil for his manipulative aspirations of True Love.

Who needs brains, when you have a big, tall, handsome, strong man to protect you? Who needs brains, when you’ve got destiny on your side and an obedient, docile wife to save?

Pathetic. That's what they are. Good has become nothing more than a farce of what it was meant to be. And, Storian above, Evil can't even defeat that farce. It's fucking sad how completely out of Balance they have become, where Good isn't good and Evil isn't evil.

“Stepmother?” A tentative voice calls out, interrupting her thoughts.

Lesso spins around, almost tripping on her long gown. Snow White is standing there, wringing her hands, looking more nervous than Lesso has ever seen a child look. Still, Lesso glares hard, and Snow White flinches. “Has no one ever taught you, little princess, that you shouldn’t eavesdrop?” She steps closer with each word, lowering her tone, knowing she sounds menacing. She towers over the child. “Hm?”

Snow White stands her ground, even though her face becomes even paler, and some part of Lesso begrudgingly has to give her credit for that. “I beg thy pardon, stepmother. I did not mean to overhear what thee spoke of, but… Stepmother, did thee mean thy utterance?”

“Do I mean what?” Lesso snaps.

Snow White looks around, furtively, and takes another step closer before whispering, so quickly Lesso nearly doesn’t catch it, “Is it true that I do not have to wed a prince?”

Lesso blinks. She narrows her eyes again. Snow White’s face is nearly blank, as though she cares nothing about this question, but her small hands are clenched tightly to her skirt and her jaw is tight. Lesso reads the careful hope that threatens to tumble out of her. So Lesso scoffs, and says, as though this question is truly as innocent as Snow White poses it, “Of course you don’t have to. Who told you you did?”

“Nanny, Father. They speak of my fitness as befitting a husband.” Snow White’s voice is still quiet, but her eyes have widened with cautious surprise. “Forgive me, stepmother, but art thee speaking truly from heart?”

“Yes.”

Snow White lets out a long sigh that sounds so odd on a child, and before Lesso can back away, throws her arms around her waist. “I thank thee once again, stepmother.” Lesso must have stiffened, because Snow White immediately lets go of her. She folds her small hands in front of her again and holds her head high, a tint of pink coloring her pale complexion but holding her little shoulders straight as she asks, “Oh! How foolish of I to forget. I returned to ask if thee would join me at the well.”

“No.” Lesso’s sneer is probably not nearly as hateful as she’d like it to be. She’s still in shock from the feeling of small arms wrapped around her waist. She hadn’t been hugged without worrying about being stabbed in the back since, well, since she was back in Galvaldon.

“I understand.” She doesn’t miss the disappointment in the small voice, but Snow White curtsies again, proper as ever. “I bid thee good day, stepmother.”

She watches the girl walk away, and it suddenly hits her that the girl didn’t even bother asking her why she was speaking to a mirror. She pulls out the mirror again, and without a word, sees the apology carved into the contours of Dovey’s face. “Don’t,” she says, shortly.

Dovey closes her mouth, opens it, and then closes it again, seeing the warning in Lesso's eyes. When she replies, it is quiet, somber. "Okay." The silence after the word clings to both of them like the mist in early mornings, and after a moment, Dovey breaks the silence. “I heard what you said to Snow White.”

Lesso rubs a hand across her eyes. Something about the interaction with Snow White, short though it was, made her sad. Sadness is a draining emotion, and she thought she had long since trained herself out of it. Despair is empowering, desperation is motivating, but not sadness. Never that. “I’m not in the mood for a lecture.”

“I wasn’t going to give one.” Dovey takes a deep breath, though she doesn’t sound exasperated. She just sounds like she wants to steady herself. “I wanted to tell you that I know you’re right. A prince isn’t the only route to happiness.”

Lesso hums. She would rub it in more, normally, but, “I imagine that’s why you chose to be a fairy godmother?” Lesso asks, drawn in by the deep melancholy that she somehow deciphers in Dovey’s tone.

“Yes.” Dovey pauses. When she continues, she sounds as though she is choosing every word very, very carefully, each word gaping from the things unsaid. “Habits are… So easy to pick up, so difficult to lose.”

She doesn’t say more, and Lesso knows she’s talking about what she said about Snow White. But Lesso doesn’t push further, even though she normally would. She’s too tired from dealing with the floods of sadness pouring out from a literal child.

“Oh shit.” It hits Lesso. “Shit, shit, shit.”

Dovey’s eyes turn back to her, alarmed at the sudden change in topic. “What?”

“Snow White is seven years old.”

“Okay…” Dovey says slowly. “So what?”

“So, her story doesn’t really begin until she turns fucking fourteen!” Lesso can hear her voice rising, but she can’t bring herself to care. “I’m going to have to deal with a pubescent teenager!”

“Lesso, calm–”

“Don’t tell me to calm down! You’re a fucking mirror! You won’t have to–” She nearly gags on the thought.

Dovey’s eyes widened. Clearly, she’s only just realized this as well, “Oh Storian, are we going to have to be here for seven years?”

Lesso punches the wall. The pain is delightful, biting and angry, the way she is burning inside. Her knuckles bleed, but she’s too furious to realize because the Storian has just sent her on a quest that will last, at minimum, seven years. “Fuck!” She screeches.

“I didn’t leave Emma with enough instructions about the curriculum,” Dovey says, her breathing picking up as well now. “Oh, Storian, I didn’t even– I have essays– I–” She’s breaking up, and so despite her own anger Lesso can see the beginnings of a panic attack. Lesso sighs internally. Can’t Dovey just not threaten herself with suffocation each time something happens?

“Breathe. Clarissa, breathe. You’re going to hyperventilate, and I don’t know how to do CPR on a mirror.” The usage of Dovey’s first name has the intended effect.

Lesso doesn’t like first names, remembers the way that Rafal had stolen hers the moment she was sent to the School for Evil, so the more comfortable she becomes with someone, the less likely she is to use their given name. But Dovey is the opposite. She never had her name stolen from her, twisted until it meant something ugly.

Dovey takes a deep breath, then another, and Lesso looks at the wall. Her fist is still bleeding, and the wall looks no worse for wear. For some reason, that drains the anger out of her immediately, and all she has left is a deep well of exhaustion.

"Breathe, princess. Breathe.” Lesso keeps repeating, like a broken record, and she turns her attention back to Dovey as she watches Dovey take deep breaths. There are tears streaming down Dovey’s face, and before Lesso realizes it she’s taken it upon herself to wipe them away as they come. “We’ll figure this out. Plus, I hate to admit it, but the beauty teacher’s competent. Good’ll be fine. Okay? Breathe.”

When Dovey’s breathing slows down, Lesso takes another look at the wall and says, dryly, “If it makes you feel better, Bilious is going to have a fucking heyday when he realizes.”

Dovey’s small chuckle, strained though it is, tells Lesso she’s not in danger of suffocating on air anymore, so Lesso turns to head back to her chambers when she trips over her gown. “And I’m getting fucking pants tailored.”

Dovey is abnormally quiet when Lesso comes back from another one of the meetings that she has to suffer through as queen consort. It’s too much like a staff meeting, and attending them gives Lesso flashbacks to when she sat next to Dovey, trying to fence off the Schoolmaster’s asinine suggestions. She’s unfortunately gotten used to the advisor meetings, though, after a whole lot of bitching, moaning, and Dovey giving her pointed looks, especially once they both realized they were going to be here for a lot longer than anticipated

“What’re you reflecting on?” Lesso smirks at her own joke as she walks in, but Dovey doesn’t even acknowledge her. She just keeps staring off into space. Lesso’s in a good mood, though, as she always is when she remembers she can walk around now without having to feel like she’s walking on coals, so she asks again, “Princess?”

“Snow White came in while you were gone.” Dovey tells her, distantly. “She came over to say hello. She called me Lady Mirror.”

“Okay…” Lesso says slowly. “And?”

“She said that she saw your pants.”

Lesso frowns. “And she told you she thinks my ass looks great.”

“What?” At least that snaps Dovey out of her stupor. It’s hard to tell, because Dovey’s face is a mirror, but Lesso is willing to bet good money that the tips of her cheekbones definitely pink. “Lesso, she’s nine!”

Lesso shrugs and smirks. “Not too young to have an appreciation for the finer things in life.” She can almost see Dovey decide to ignore her, so she doesn't linger, “Okay, and then what?”

“She wanted to know if she could wear pants too.” Dovey’s gaze turns faraway again. “She said the king said that girls who wear pants won’t be liked by the princes.”

Lesso privately thinks that the king should wear dresses and get the prince himself since he’s so dedicated to them, but she keeps the thought to herself as she waits for Dovey to continue. Dovey doesn’t, though.

“And that has you reflecting on what, your own obsession with ball gowns that weigh more than you do?”

“I told Agatha,” Dovey says, eyes faraway, ignoring her. Lesso wonders if she's even still speaking to her. “When she first came. That she would look better in the ball gowns. Even though she clearly didn’t like them. I thought," Dovey's voice catches. "I thought I was being Good.”

“Princess,” Lesso decides she’s done with this pity party. “You are Good. Don’t worry about it. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t think that marrying for reasons other than love is stupid.”

Dovey looks her in the eyes. Lesso’s gray eyes are reflected in her mirror pupils, and it makes Dovey look almost like Lesso for a moment. “Am I? I don’t know anymore. Was it Good of me to have known that the Balance was tipping but not doing anything about it? Was it Good of me to have been happy that both the Schoolmaster and the Storian were clearly biased towards Good?”

Lesso thinks about that for a moment. She thinks about the students she’s had who’ve been thrown off cliffs and the ones who’ve been eaten by dragons. She thinks about the letters she’s had to send back home to parents telling them their child is now a fairy in the School for Good for something as inane as failing Uglification.

“No.” She says finally. “But I would’ve done the same in your shoes,” she offers, and sees that it doesn't comfort Dovey in the slightest.

Dovey is earnest as she asks, “So am I Evil, then?”

Lesso shakes her head resolutely. If Dovey is Evil, there is truly no hope left for Evil of the world. She almost shudders at the thought. “No. Princess, you literally get ill at the idea of killing innocent children.”

Dovey falls quiet again, and Lesso is beginning to think the conversation is over when Dovey says, quietly, slowly, looking at nowhere in particular:

“But if I’m not Good and if I’m not Evil, what am I?”

“I swear to the Storian and all things Evil that if I have to go to the forests to picnic, I will murder someone.” Lesso growls at the mirror. Dovey, on the other hand, looks unimpressed.

“You don’t have a choice. The king said–”

“Fuck the king. I’m the queen, don’t I get some kind of say in where we go for holidays?” She tugs at her pants. The pockets she demanded were still too small. She wonders if she would be punished if she cut off the seamstress' hands for not following her very express orders. Her fingers itch to try.

“He’s the king, Lesso.”

Lesso wants to be snarky and snap something back, but she recognizes Dovey’s tired tone. There are some hills to die on and other battles that aren’t worth the fight, and unfortunately, picnicking isn’t a battle Dovey would approve of dying for. Especially when the dying could be literal, considering he is the king and she is only queen consort. Her face twists at the title.

This doesn’t mean Lesso can't set the king up for failure every chance she gets. It just means she has to be slightly more careful about it.

“I could always just poison him?” She suggests, hopeful. Dovey ignores her.

“Now, listen. Snow White is also coming.” With a little luck and a whole lot of servants, Lesso has been able to avoid Snow White for the most part for the past year. The king did stop badgering her at some point about Snow White’s studies, even complementing her on her teaching once, which Lesso found hilarious since she hadn’t seen Snow White at all. She didn’t tell him that, though.

Then he tried to suggest that she wear dresses more often. She sneered so mightily at him he left with his tail tucked between his legs.

She shivers to remember that one night he tried to get into bed with her. His smarmy hands on her skin? He’s lucky she remembered he was the king in time to stop herself from cutting off his hands. He was indignant, spluttering something about wives and sex, but Lesso didn’t listen. She just kicked him out of her chambers with a well-placed foot on his chest.

Good wife. Ha, Lesso thinks, recalling what he said when he asked her to take over Snow White’s lessons. He didn’t try to warm her bed again, and Dovey agreed that this was a hill that she could accept Lesso dying on.

“Ugh,” Lesso groans. “Do I have to go?”

“It’s her fourteenth birthday.” Dovey’s tone is telling her that she should really listen. “And this is supposed to be the moment that she meets the prince for the first time, remember?”

“Ugh.”

“Eloquent.” Dovey mutters under her breath.

“Sick of me already, princess?” Lesso purrs. Somewhere along the way, Dovey had stopped being a nuisance that Lesso wanted to shove face-down on any available surface. They might not be best friends, but Lesso has begun to grow used to the feeling of Dovey quite literally in arm reach.

Dovey is blushing, and Lesso grins with satisfaction. Still got it. Or maybe Dovey's just easy. “Anyway, Snow White is going to meet the prince today. We’ll just let the story happen today, alright?”

Lesso blinks. “Just let it happen?”

“Yes. This is True Love in action, and I know you don’t believe in that but it’s true for Snow White.”

Lesso frowns. Dovey looks completely serious, and she’s unsure where the surety Dovey is speaking with is coming from. In fact, from all Lesso has seen, which is admittedly little as she tries her best to avoid her stepdaughter, Snow White is pretty dead set against marriage.

She’s also fourteen. The age is a tumor in Lesso’s chest that burns to even think about. Fourteen. That’s not old enough to meet anything except child predators. That's not old enough to know anything except manipulative lies disguised by the word ‘love’.

“How do you know it’s True Love?”

“He kissed her and she was revived.” Dovey is looking at her like she’s stupid.

“He could've been all close and personal so that he could do CPR on her. You never know with the old fairy tales. They’re always over dramatic.” Lesso argued. “And aren’t we here to change the fairy tales?”

“I don’t think CPR even exists in this era. And besides, we can’t change this. If True Love isn’t true anymore, what is?”

Lesso is getting exasperated. “You can’t seriously believe the man saw a fourteen year old lying in a glass coffin and thought, ‘that there, the literal child lying in a coffin, is my True Love’.”

If this argument happened even a year ago, Dovey would have fought her on it, Lesso knows. But Dovey’s gotten to know her just as she’s gotten to know Dovey, and Lesso can see that Dovey is making an effort to understand where she’s coming from.

That doesn’t necessarily mean that it works.

“It is love at first sight.” Dovey says, in the tone that means she doesn’t want to argue anymore. “You can’t seriously be asking me to allow you to ruin Snow White’s entire life because you have a prejudice against True Love.”

“You can’t seriously think that the prince is Snow White’s True Love. He kissed her while she was unconscious! If that isn’t sexual harassment I don’t know what is!”

“It revived her! And they lived happily ever after, you can’t deny that!”

Lesso sneers. “Snow White and the prince are both heirs to kingdoms. Do you really think they would have let their marital problems be broadcast to the entire world?”

“Why couldn’t it have been True Love, Lesso? What do you have against being–”

“Your majesty?” A servant knocks on Lesso’s open door. Dovey shuts up immediately, and Lesso turns to them with what must be a mighty scowl on her face because the servant backs away immediately.

“What?” She barks.

The servant’s looking at his feet and trembling. It’s rather gratifying, if Lesso’s being honest. “His majesty the king is asking if thou art ready to depart, ma'am.”

“Fuck.” If the servant is surprised by the obscenity that falls from his queen’s mouth, he doesn’t show it. Perhaps he’s grown used to it. Instead, he just bows lower as Lesso snatches up Dovey and sweeps past him. “Have my bag brought to the carriage,” she throws over her shoulder.

The king is already standing by the carriage when she arrives, Snow White next to him, her hands folded and looking down. Just looking at her reminds Lesso of Dovey’s argument, which makes Lesso mad. Why is Snow White standing there like she’s a servant? She’s a princess, for fuck’s sake. She’s the literal heir of the kingdom. As though hearing Lesso’s thoughts, Snow White lifts her head. She gives Lesso a tentative smile. Lesso sweeps past her without another look.

“Well?” She says to the king and the princess still standing outside once she’s seated herself comfortably in the carriage. “Are we leaving or not?”

The king looks like he's torn between being offended that she sat herself down first and being scared of the way Lesso raises an eyebrow. In the end, fear wins. "Of course," he replies as he enters the carriage. Lesso rearranges her coats so there’s no room next to her at all and crosses her legs imperviously. “Trousers, darling?”

Lesso narrows her eyes at him, silently daring him to continue. Wisely, he turns to Snow White instead.

“Thou art growing up so quickly,” the king says, pausing when he goes to sit down next to Lesso only to find that there is no place for him to sit. To his credit, he barely pauses for a minute before sitting down. “And into such a beautiful damsel!”

“I thank thee for thy kind words, father,” Snow White replies, still holding herself ram-rod straight, sitting down on top of the coats that turned the king away. With a glare, Lesso moves the coats so that Snow White can actually sit down. She doesn’t bother saying anything, though she has a suspicion that the king would actually like it if she showed some animosity towards the young princess.

“Thee shall have no trouble finding a husband, I think,” the king says, “And to think, a daughter of mine growing to become the most beautiful woman in all the land! How proud thee make me.” Then, in an almost comical turn of tone, he looks at Lesso and says, with enough fake sincerity Lesso has to admire, “Oh, darling, of course not the most beautiful. Surely thou art not jealous of a father’s misconceptions?”

Lesso swallows down the urge to say something about shoving the king’s head up his ass, because she’s certain she has in no way displayed any outward signs of jealousy about Snow White, because she doesn’t care. The message just simply doesn’t seem to get through. Instead, she turns to Snow White and tells her, “He’s right. You’ll make a beautiful queen. Anyone, if someone at all, who becomes your consort will be lucky.”

Something lights up in Snow White’s dim eyes, but the king is looking at Lesso strangely, so she shuts up and leans back. She closes her eyes. Storian above, this is going to be a long trip.

When they arrive at the forest, Lesso hops off the carriage without much fanfare. She makes a beeline for the woods, savoring each step, wanting to find a place where she could pull out Dovey, but instead, she hears small footsteps behind her and without turning she knows it’s Snow White. She sighs dramatically.

The princess must have thought she was being very quiet, because she freezes when Lesso turns around with an almost exaggerated expression of shock on her face. “St-stepmother!”

“Surely you know better than to follow people around when they’re looking for privacy, little princess,” Lesso drawls. The princess has grown taller since the last time they had to have a face-to-face, and she’s nearly as tall as Lesso now. It irks Lesso to no end, being shorter now.

“I beg thy pardon, stepmother,” Snow White says, maintaining her composure much better than she had when she was nine.

Or when she was ten, when Lesso caught her sneaking cookies from the kitchen before a formal supper, only to be shocked when Lesso gathered an even larger armful of cookies than she did, before pulling out her old cape and filling it with cookies. Snow White had been left with maybe one and a half cookies.

“Cook?” Lesso had called the cook to her side. “Your son came, the other day.”

The cook had knelt immediately, fear rippling through her body. “He means no harm, your majesty. He is only nine.”

Lesso watches her kneel with a glint of amusement in her eyes. “You frighten yourself, cook.” She reaches and helps the cook up, ignoring the incredulous look in the cook’s eyes. She knows her reputation amongst the servants is not the best. “Here,” she says, holding out the cookies she stole from Snow White, “I know he likes chocolate. Take some. I snuck too many from the banquet tonight.”

“I thank thee, majesty, for thy kindness.” The cook had nearly fallen over with gratitude and no small amount of relief, Lesso suspected. It didn't bother her. She liked being intimidating. “Thank you.”

Or when Snow White was eleven, when Lesso plucked the last lollipop out of Snow White’s hand and ate it herself. “Taking candy from a baby, Lesso?” Dovey had asked her. Lesso had replied with something like, “Aw, baby, do you want some?”

It made Dovey blush and drop the topic.

The cook had gratefully accepted two of the candies for her boy, and Lesso had promised to send him a toy truck she made herself some other time. Dovey had looked at her curiously afterwards, but Lesso just ignored her. She got very good at doing that.

Or when Snow White was twelve, when Lesso was yelling about cutting off the seamstress’s golden tresses and demanded bigger pockets, and Snow White silently walked up to her to hand her a pair of scissors and a book about haircutting. Lesso rolled her eyes so hard she was scared her pupils wouldn't make it back out again. She chopped off that seamstress’s hair a few minutes later with a single slice from her fingernails. “Bigger pockets,” she had sneered, “Or I’ll shave your head next time.” Her pants got bigger pockets.

“More cookies for me!” The cook’s young son had squealed when Lesso showed up at the cook’s quarters with her newly enlarged pockets. Lesso had smirked, and gave him another one.

Or a few months ago, when Lesso snuck up behind Snow White and scared her enough to make the usually stoic young princess scream. “Stepmother!” The young princess had said, almost as though admonishing her, but Lesso just cackled and swept away.

Ah, good times.

“What do you want?”

A queer look comes over Snow White’s eyes. “All say that thou art jealous of me and mine, stepmother, and yet thou art the only person who ever inquires about what I desire.”

Lesso frowns. “Who tells you I’m jealous of you?”

“Father. Nanny. The magic mirror. Many speak of thy envious nature, stepmother, but I do not believe them.”

There is a lot of information in that sentence, but Lesso grasps onto the most important one. “Magic mirror?” Surely, she can’t mean Dovey. Lesso plays dumb. “You mean, a mirror talks to you?”

“Yes. Father’s mirror speaks lies and deceit to him, whispering that thee shall try to kill me with a poison apple, and I shall die, only to be revived by True Love’s kiss.” Snow White says these words with barely any inflection, as though she’s merely stating facts like the sky is blue and snow is white.

Lesso thinks about asking her why she’s telling her this, but then decides that she really couldn’t care less. If Snow White wants to be worried, Lesso isn’t going to be the one who stops her. More wrinkles for Snow White. “And yet you still follow me, deep into the forest, so that we’re all alone. Tread carefully, little princess. What if I decide that I don’t want to leave your death to chance?”

Snow White blinks, clearly not expecting that, but she doesn’t back away. What she says, though, is the really shocking part of this entire surprising conversation. “I do not believe thee shall commit such an act.”

“Are you sure?” Lesso fingers her hidden dagger hanging from her belt. “Because I wouldn’t tempt fate if I were you.”

“No.” Snow White sounds completely certain. “I am certain thee shall not, stepmother. Thou art the only person who has ever spoken to me as something more than a creature of appearance. Thou shall not murder me.” With that, a little uncertainty passes over her beautiful features, and she amends, “Not for as infantile an emotion as jealousy.”

Lesso appraises her for a moment. “The little princess has brains,” she nearly mutters to herself, and knowing that Snow White is right, she really won’t kill her, she releases her dagger from her hands. “Well, you caught me. So, what do you want?”

Snow White’s eyes gleam. “I have seen thee wielding a sword in the courtyard, stepmother. I do not wish to impose my presence upon thee, but I wish to learn the art of sword fighting as well. Will thee teach me?”

“Why?” Lesso looks at her suspiciously. If she teaches Snow White swordsmanship, the little princess is going to be much more difficult to wrangle if she should ever need to.

“If I may be so blunt, I am envious of thy strength, stepmother. I have seen the admirable way thee defies father’s wishes. I too wish to have that courage when I am faced with conflict.”

Lesso narrows her eyes. “You realize that it’s not going to be easy, right? And I’m not going to hold your hand. You’re going to get hurt.”

“If thee take a chance on me, stepmother, I shall excel. I know I shall.” Snow White’s eyes sparkle in the sunlight, and Lesso thinks that maybe this is how she really should have been, as radiant as the sun in the sky.

Lesso appraises her some more, but before she can respond, she hears the sound of hooves galloping her way and before she can remember to warn Snow White, her instincts take over, and she’s hidden high up in the trees before she can blink. The sound of hooves galloping comes closer, and into the clearing rides a prince. He is dressed handsomely, his profile Grecian and well-defined, and he carries himself with the pride of inherited wealth. He's also clearly a full-grown man.

“And fuck.” Lesso curses to herself quietly. Snow White is still standing there, completely composed, her mask only broken by small signs, like the way she clenches her jaw and the way her hands clench each other so tightly her knuckles are white. Next to the prince, looming over her in his horse, she looks tiny.

“I bid thee good day, fair maiden,” the prince calls. “I am Prince Charming.” He unmounts his horse with a flourish, and captures Snow White’s hand to press a kiss to it. “It is my honor to encounter a graceful creature such as thyself.”

From her vantage point, Lesso can see very clearly the way that Snow White backs away from the prince, the way she holds herself so stiffly she could be a cardboard cutout. It’s like she can hear Dovey in her ears, telling her, “Don’t do this, Lesso. Don’t ruin Snow White’s happily ever after.” But then the prince steps closer even as Snow White backs away, and the way he looks at Snow White is so blood-chillingly familiar that Lesso can’t bear to stay hidden for a second longer.

She jumps down from the trees, and rolls her eyes as the prince startles and fumbles for his sword. In the time that it takes for him to get out his sword, Lesso could’ve killed him five times over. “Have no fear, fair maiden! I shall protect thee from this witch!” He turns around, probably to make some cheesy move to hide Snow White, only to find that she’s not behind him.

Lesso smirks, Snow White standing behind her. She shifts, subtly, away from the way Snow White clenches at her shirt, and the young princess is observant enough that she immediately steps a little further away from Lesso. Lesso turns her focus entirely back to the prince. “You flatter me. However, I’d suggest you scram, before I decide to stop being nice.”

The foolish prince just raises his sword higher. “Witch! Thou must be jealous of the fair maiden’s beauty, and bewitched her with thy dark magic. Leave her be at once, or face my sword!”

“Hm,” Lesso pretends to consider it for a moment, “Why would she want to leave with you?”

“Thou will not stand in the way of True Love! Let her be, jealous witch!”

Lesso decides that she’s done trying to be civil. “Jealous?” She scoffs. “The only thing I’m jealous of is your dead mother, because she doesn’t have to listen to this bullshit.” She doesn’t know if his mother is actually dead, but she makes an educated guess, and is rewarded when his face twists with anger.

“Thou must be jealous of the love that I feel for the fair maiden, because only princesses can marry a prince like I!”

Lesso snarls. She’s already reaching for her dagger when she feels a small hand on hers, stopping her, and she turns to raise an eyebrow at Snow White. Instead of responding to her, though, Snow White steps forward, and says softly, in her naive and innocent tones, “Fuck off.”

Lesso is shocked to hear the words from her, yes, but not so surprised that she can’t step forward in the time the prince is gaping at Snow White to place her foot squarely in the middle of his chest and kick him right back on his horse.

She dusts off her hands. “Prick.” She can practically hear Dovey’s howl of despair. So she adds, with more than a hint of glee, “Oh, sorry, I meant, whoreson. You can understand that, right?”

On the way back to the carriage, Snow White is quiet, in a deeply unsettled way that varies from her normal, above-it-all type silence. So before they step back onto the carriage, Lesso stops. She’s already dreading Dovey’s lashing. She might as well try to avoid it for as long as possible. “What’s on your mind, little princess?”

Snow White’s eyes have a faraway look in them. “Tradition states I must marry a prince to fulfill my duties as a princess,” she says. “Yet my heart does not yearn for that prince nor any other, and I cannot marry one that I do not truly adore.”

Internally, Lesso is gloating. Outside, though, she just tilts her head and tells Snow White, “You’re the daughter of a king. That will never change, whether or not you marry a prince. And you’ll be a good princess, trust me.”

Snow White chews on her lip, clearly thinking this through. “Am I not an inadequate princess though I have said foul maledictions?”

“Of course.” Lesso says dismissively. “I’m the fucking queen. What I say goes, and I say princesses can say bad words.”

Snow White looks deep in thought, but Lesso thinks she’s done enough deep thinking for the day, so she gets back onto the carriage. She thinks she can hear Dovey trying to murder her telepathically, but she ignores it, and leans back to close her eyes. The king isn’t back yet.

When he does get back, he’s furious.

“What has thee done?” He demands, once he gets inside the carriage. Lesso opens one eye, takes a look at him, and decides she’d rather go back to sleep. Then he’s shaking her awake. “What did thee do?”

In a flash, she’s got his arms pinned behind his back. She’s almost ready to break his arm clean off, the sensation of him shaking her so similar to a memory from the last time someone grabbed her. It nearly thrusts her back into being in school again, alone and in pain. “Don’t,” she hisses, “Touch me. Ever.”

She keeps him there for another good minute, aware that Snow White is watching and calming herself. She enjoys the audience, though, so she holds him there for an extra second longer than she needs to compose herself before letting the sniveling king go. “Now. What can I do for you, dear husband?”

He rubs his arms and looks at her warily, but his anger rises to the surface again. “What art the words Prince Charming claims to have heard from thy mouth, wife?”

“Oh, so you knew there was a stranger out in the woods, trying to corner your daughter when she was alone?” Lesso retorts, noting from the corner of her eye Snow White paling.

“Th-That is not what I speak of.” The king splutters. “I encountered the good prince after thee sent him away, and from his mouth I heard that thee, jealous dame, art plotting to ruin my daughter Snow White’s joy!”

Lesso feels Snow White watching her carefully, but she ignores the young girl in favor of staring at the king for long enough that he starts to squirm in his seat. Then she shrugs. “Okay.”

“Okay?” The king explodes. “'Tis not okay! Thou art queen of this realm, and Snow White is princess! How shall she be princess when her suitor has been terrorized by thee?”

“Or she could be queen. You know, since you’ll die one day?” She leaves the rest of her threat unspoken, but from the way the king scotches away from her just a little more, she thinks the king understood what she meant.

“So thee admits that thee are nothing more than a jealous dame attempting to fool both me and my daughter’s future husband?”

Lesso wants to shake his head and see if there is something blocking his ears. “They’re not married and I’m not jealous. Are we done? I’m tired.”

“I beg thy pardon?” The king splutters. Snow White lays a hand on her father’s quivering arm, and whispers something to him. Lesso doesn’t bother trying to hear. She’s too busy closing her eyes again and trying to fall asleep.

When they get back, Lesso hops off the carriage and starts towards her rooms without a word to either the girl or her father. She can feel Dovey growing anxious, and though she for one would rather avoid a lecture, there’s no avoiding Dovey now that she is a mirror hidden in Lesso’s pockets.

“We said we wouldn’t change the course of the story,” is the first thing Dovey hisses at her when Lesso finally gets back to her chambers. “What were you thinking, Lesso? Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?”

“Well, you said I couldn’t change True Love, right?” Lesso shrugs. “You heard the little princess. It wasn’t True Love. So don’t get all prissy, princess.”

“Prissy?” Dovey is so angry Lesso wonders if she might actually start smoking through her ears. “You just ruined a chance for True Love for Snow White!”

“Or, or I just saved a girl from a loveless marriage with a pedophile,” Lesso replies cooly, shaking off the relief and the deep grief she feels at the sentence. She doesn’t think about it for long. It threatens to drag her under, back where the sun doesn’t shine and her world revolves around a single name. She shivers, “Ew. Your Goodness must be rubbing off on me.”

“Lesso!”

Lesso reaches the end of her patience. “Look here, princess. If you want to blubber on and on about True Love, that’s a you problem. I’m here to finish the fucking quest, you got that? I don’t care if I have to break up one True Love or a thousand True Love stories if that’s what it takes for me to get back. I’m Evil!” She yells the last part and sees Dovey clearly look taken aback.

Lesso takes a deep breath. Over the past years, they’ve both yelled at one another enough times, but they’ve both also tired of it at some point. Yelling at one another isn’t going to get them out of this situation.

“How about we poison the king?”

Dovey barely blinks at the pivot in topic. She is no longer as scandalized by Lesso’s suggestions as she used to be. She’s probably gotten used to them, a thought that shoots a pang of envy through Lesso. Becoming accustomed to anything is dangerous for Evil, and yet Dovey can without so much as a second thought. “Why?” Another thought seems to cross her mind, and this time she looks truly horrified. “Is this why you’ve been so Good to the cook?”

“What?” Lesso looks at her, amused. “Princess, I just meant that we’d get Snow White on the throne, and her time as a princess ends. Then, since the fairy tale originally ends when she becomes queen, we might get sent back.” Lesso rubs her eyes tiredly. “Any more time here, and I’ll forget all about Curses and Traps.”

Dovey bites her lip. Lesso follows her movement, watching as Dovey thinks. Her lips look soft, even though they’re made of glass right now. “I’m Good, Lesso. I can’t murder.”

“I’ll leave you here. Plausible deniability.”

“Can’t we find another way? Surely there’s another way we can push the story forward faster.” Dovey sneers, an expression that has started to look startling like Lesso’s own sneer. “Oh wait, I forgot, that was what the prince was supposed to do, but you had to disrupt their meeting.”

They glare at one another for a minute, neither of them backing down. Finally, Lesso sighs. “Good can murder.”

“What? No, we can’t.”

“Yes, you can. How else did Grimhilde die? How else did Maleficent die?”

“Yes, but they were villains… Oh. You mean, if the king was a villain, you could kill him and it wouldn’t be murder.” Lesso raises an eyebrow, and waits.

Finally, Dovey sighs, too. “Fine. But I’ll only agree if you can find some sort of evidence that the king is truly Evil. I won’t condone murder just because you’re Evil.”

“Fine.”

“Thank you.” Dovey says, and for the first time, they’ve found common ground. Ironically, it’s about murder, Lesso thinks, and the thought would almost amuse her if it wasn’t plain sad.

There is a timid knock on her door.

“What?” Lesso barks, not bothering to hide Dovey. She expects one of the servants to show their frightened, sad little faces, and they’ve long since gotten used to their queen speaking to an inanimate object. ‘Insane’, she has heard the word tossed around to describe her. Lesso enjoys it, would be lying if she said she didn’t.

Instead, however, what she gets is a little face that while certainly sad, is also most definitely not frightened. A pity, Lesso thinks. The princess steps forward a little more and curtsies.

“Ugh.” Lesso groans, throwing her head back.

“Lesso!” Dovey chides, forgetting for a moment that Snow White is there. It’s funny, the way Dovey nearly freezes when Snow White lifts her head up from her curtsy and stares at the talking mirror. Lesso can feel Dovey’s eyes on her, but she doesn’t try to make an excuse for her talking mirror. In fact, she’s enjoying Dovey’s helplessness.

“How art thy eyes, Lady Mirror?” Snow White asks, curtsying to the mirror as well. Lesso nearly chokes on the sentence and its implication.

“They’re much better,” Dovey replies, a small smile on her lips. Lesso recognizes the smile. It is one reserved for Dovey’s favorite students, even if Dovey proclaims she doesn’t have favorites. “Thank you for asking, Snow.”

“Hold on,” Lesso interrupts bluntly. “What is going on? How do you know Dovey,” she says, pointing a silver-tipped finger at the princess, “And how do you know Snow White? And what’s wrong with your eyes?” She asks the mirror propped on her bedside table.

“Lady Mirror is my teacher, stepmother.” The princess inches closer. “She has taught me everything I know since I was seven. I did not know she was thy companion, though I thought I had heard the sounds of thy voice bickering with Lady Mirror in the corridors more than once.”

Lesso narrows her eyes at Dovey, who looks away from her in a way that is almost guilty. “And you never thought to mention this, hm?”

“Snow White needed a teacher, Lesso. And since you were busy playing hide and seek with your duties, I had to step in.”

“Manipulating the young princess for Good, princess? How…” Lesso selects her next word carefully. “Evil, of you.”

“I do not wish to cause strife between thee, stepmother,” Snow White says before Dovey can retort something. “I apologize. I meant no harm.”

“I bet, since Dovey’s been your teacher.” Lesso gives Dovey a good side-eyes, and Dovey has the grace to look at least a little reprimanded. “Whatever. If you want to do my chores for me, little dove, you only need ask. And what is wrong with your eyes?”

“They're just a little dry. And teaching Snow White wasn't a chore–”

Lesso turns back to the princess and interrupts Dovey’s protests. “So. What do you want, little princess?” She barks. “Have you come to find another prince?”

Snow White stares at her for a moment, and then giggles suddenly. The smile transforms her face, and suddenly Lesso realizes that for all of Snow White’s beauty, she is cold, like the beauty of a pale snowflake, icy and unfeeling. But when she smiles, she looks every bit the young girl that she is, and it only makes Lesso more infuriated. She should be in school, not dealing with touchy princes and irksome fathers.

“No, stepmother,” Snow White replies, proper as ever. “I only wish to remind thee of thy vow.”

“What vow?” Lesso picks at her nail, annoyed that the metal is tarnished already. In the mirror next to her, Dovey vanishes, to leave Lesso and Snow White some privacy, Lesso suspects.

“Thy vow of tutelage, stepmother. For the art of sword-wielding.” Snow White says, not in the least surprised that Lesso would forget. Truthfully, Lesso hadn’t, but it had just seemed like so much work to have to actually follow through on her promise that she had just secretly hoped Snow White would forget.

She sighs. No such luck for the Evil and the damned. “Fine. Meet me in the courtyard in five minutes. In pants.” Snow White follows her pointed looks and looks down to appraise the cotton blue dress that she wears, and the young princess nods.

“I bid thee good day, stepmother, and will be ready promptly.” The princess curtsies again, and leaves.

“Ugh.” Lesso groans, and Dovey appears in the mirror again. “Where do you go when you disappear like that?”

“Lounge,” Dovey says, waving her hand disinterestedly. “What is this about teaching Snow White sword fighting? Are you actually going to do it?”

“What, I thought you Evers were all about keeping promises?” Lesso raises an eyebrow.

“Good.” Dovey says quietly, with a certain resolve. “Good for her. Snow White will need it, if what we saw of the prince is any indication of what he would be like to his wife. Not,” Dovey raises an eyebrow, forestalling Lesso’s protest, “Not that I’m saying she’ll be his wife. Don't jump to conclusions, Lesso.”

“Isn’t that what your princes do best?” Lesso retorts, before getting up to stretch. She can feel Dovey’s eyes follow her, but they flit away when Lesso turns back to her. “Are you coming with me?”

“To do what, teach her how to braid the tassels on a sword?” Dovey chuckles, though the sound is a little self-deprecating and a lot resigned. “In case you haven’t noticed, Ever girls don’t learn how to fight with swords.”

Lesso taps her chip thoughtfully. “You know, knowing the beauty teacher, I would never have guessed that.”

Dovey laughs, more than a little wistful. “Emma’s always been more fiery than most of us. I wonder how she’s doing.”

Lesso shrugs. “I hope Bilious has choked on a toad and is half decomposed by now.”

“Lesso!” Dovey exclaims, shocked. “How can you say that about your colleague?”

“Please. He’s wished worse on me,” Lesso scoffs. “In case you haven’t noticed, princess, we’re not all bubbles and sunshine on my side of the bridge. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She gives Dovey a two-fingered salute. “I have a princess to teach.”

When she does step outside, however, the sun shines brightly and the birds are singing. It burns Lesso’s skin and her ears, but she tells Snow White to wait for her anyway and goes to fetch Dovey.

“You won’t get to stay in the shade while I burn.” Lesso says, placing Dovey on the bench outside. She pretends not to see the knowing smile that Snow White and Dovey exchange, and makes Snow White do an extra five laps with her weak little legs just because she can. If she gives her lessons loud enough that Dovey can hear them too, well, that’s because she’s Evil and obnoxious and has absolutely no regard for people’s inclination towards peace and quiet.

“Come on, snowflake, put a little ass into it!” She shouts, and delights in the way that both Snow White and Dovey gasp. “Come on, another lap. Hey, I told you this wasn’t going to be easy!”

Snow White does another lap.

“She’s going to be Snow Tan before long if you keep running her outside in the sun,” Dovey remarks to Lesso one day, a few lessons later. Already, there was a little more color in Snow White’s pale cheeks, a little more spring to her walk.

“Eh,” Lesso shrugs. “She’s young. She needs that vitamin D.”

Dovey’s eyes sparkle. “Careful, Lesso. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re getting soft. Didn’t you ask the cook to bring her more protein this morning?”

“That’s just so she won’t collapse on a run and make all our hard work useless. Me?” Lesso scoffs. “Soft?”

And just to prove she isn’t, she makes Snow White run five more laps that day. It is with glee that she notices the way that Snow White glares at her now has a little more actual emotion hidden in the corners, rather than the perfunctory way she had done so before.

“Soft.” Lesso scoffs to herself, watching Snow White drag herself around the courtyard lugging a sword almost taller than she is again for one last lap. “Ha! As if.”

Despite Snow White’s ongoing lessons, Lesso has not forgotten about the plan to poison the king, though Dovey has certainly been doing her best to avoid even discussing it. Luckily, Dovey is Good, and though Lesso has many complaints about Good’s luck, she really can’t complain when she stumbles on the king meeting with one Prince Charming a few months after the forest trip. Evil’s luck would have led her right to the bottom of the lake.

She raises Dovey up to her spot by the windows as well, so that Dovey can see what she does through the bars of the chamber door. A bird watches them curiously, and it doesn't leave when Lesso waves a hand at it.

"Just leave it," Dovey hisses, and Lesso rolls her eyes both at the mirror and the bird, but she stops, and settles in behind Dovey to hear what is being said below.

“What art thy claims, Charming?” The king asks, sitting next to the prince.

“The princess is being led astray, majesty.” Prince Charming says. In the light of the fireplace, he is every bit as handsome as Good is supposed to be. It makes Lesso’s heart squeeze painfully, the way he is beautiful. “Though I wish not to speak ill of her, the queen has been poisoning Snow White with ideas of life without True Love, and I cannot stand by any longer.”

The king gasps, scandalized. “Surely thee cannot mean such a thing, Charming.”

“I mean it, with all due respect. The queen wears trousers and wields swords like a simple guard or servant. And though I would never intentionally infringe upon her privacy, I have even seen her teach the princess her ways in the courtyard. I think only for the good of Snow White, sir. How shall Snow White hold her child when her hands are hard and covered with the blisters of sword fighting?”

The king considers this. “I understand what thee speaks of. But she is my wife, and Snow White’s stepmother. I do not wish to deprive either of each other’s company.”

“Then perhaps it might be best to consider another course of action.”

“Speak plainly, prince, or speak no more.”

The firelight bathes Prince Charming in a golden glow. He looks as though he’s been sculpted from marble by gods. “The queen is the unfortunate root of the princess’s change. If the queen, however, were no longer influencing the princess, the princess would surely return to her former self.”

“How?”

“I beg thy pardon for my coarse language, majesty, but thy queen takes rest in thy bed, does she not?” Lesso wants to cackle when she sees the king hesitate and then nod. Lesso hasn’t slept in anyone’s bed except her own for the past seven years. Storian above, that’s sad. She focuses back on the people in front of her. The prince hands the king a dagger. “This is the dagger of Truth. Thou may make of it as thee please.”

“Fie! I cannot murder my own wife!” The king says, but his hand closes around the dagger anyway.

“Consider thy daughter, sir. Thou art all she has left in this dangerous world.”

Lesso sneaks away then. She has all she needs, and Dovey has seen everything she’s seen.

Back in her room, she lifts Dovey up into her eye line and smirks. “So. Poison? Arsenic? Or maybe, maybe I could just sneak into his room at night and take the dagger to him. Give him a taste of his own medicine.”

“I don’t understand,” Dovey murmurs, almost to herself, ignoring Lesso’s increasingly gruesome ways of murder. “The king is supposed to be Good. He’s supposed to be kind, caring, and Good.”

Lesso rolls her eyes. “What kind of 'good' father would leave his daughter to his second wife and never check up on her again? Plus, isn’t Prince Charming also supposed to be Good? Didn’t stop him from suggesting the king take a dagger to my innocent throat.”

“This doesn’t make sense.”

“Sucks for you.” Lesso shrugs. “So, what do you say, cyanide? Or, maybe, I’ll ask him to go on a walk with me near the cliffs and he’ll accidentally slip.”

Dovey lifts her eyes. They’re still made of glass, but somehow, it is almost as though Lesso can see the red rims that threaten with tears. “Do you think the original Evil Queen had to deal with this as well? Do you think this is why she hated Snow White?”

"No.” Lesso replies immediately. “And Grimhilde has a name, you know.”

“Fine. Surely, Grimhilde–”

“No. Princess, I don’t know why the Good are turning Evil in this world, but don’t try to erase Evil from Grimhilde. She hated Snow White, so she wanted to kill her. End of story.” Lesso shakes her head. “She’s already dead. Don’t tarnish her reputation too.”

Dovey still doesn’t look placated, but she doesn’t say anything else. So Lesso continues, “So. Give me a clear word. Poison? Dagger? Sword? Guillotine? Ooh, that could be fun. Getting the people to rebel and beheading him.”

“I’m going to bed,” Dovey announces, looking contemplative but also annoyed. “You can dream of ways to murder your husband yourself. I’m having nothing to do with this.” Her face disappears from the mirror, turning the mirror into just a normal reflective surface.

Fine, Lesso thinks. She’ll come up with a plot on her own. The thought nearly makes her want to dance around with glee. It’s been some time since she’s been able to try her hand at an Evil plot, and she doesn’t count the one with Rafal. She has never been allowed to do anything her way whenever Rafal is brought into the question, and her submission embarrasses her, just as it angers her again and again to remember each time. She leaves Dovey in her chambers, and heads down to the kitchen.

Lesso’s pacing the halls of the hallway outside her chambers, deciding if setting a trap in front of her door is too brazen, when light footsteps round the corner. She doesn’t bother turning around, recognizing the sound of Snow White breathing. “What?” She barks.

“Thou always says the same thing at my approach, stepmother.” Snow White sounds a little breathless, but there is amusement in her voice that there hadn’t been before.

Lesso turns around. Snow White is wearing what she usually wears, but her hair isn’t as perfectly pulled back as it usually is, and there is a flush on her cheeks. Lesso frowns. “And yet you still don’t know how to be direct. Tell me, little princess, what?”

Snow White is growing unfazed to her animosity, much like Dovey did, and absently Lesso wonders if she’s losing her touch. “Father has fallen ill. I have hastened to come tell thee as soon as the physicians told me.”

Lesso’s frown grows deeper. This is abnormal. Plotting the king’s death is entirely her plot. It has nothing to do with Dovey, so it can’t be Dovey’s luck at work here. Unless the king is being plagued with a disease that will give him magical powers when he awakens from it, this sickness is a stroke of good luck. Evil doesn’t get that advantage.

“How bad is it?” Lesso asks bluntly.

“The prince said father might not make it past tomorrow.”

Might not make it past tomorrow? This is too convenient. Lesso’s about to turn to go to the king when something else Snow White says registers. “The prince?”

“Yes, stepmother.”

Lesso looks skyward. She wonders if this is why the king falls sick so on schedule. “Why the fuck is Prince Charming here?”

“I do not know,” the princess frowns as well, her pretty eyes narrowed. “He has been taking care of father, but I dislike him. He looks at me as though I am his belonging.”

Lesso looks back at her. “Have you been practicing your sword fighting?” The princess nods.

“Good. In that case, let’s go meet this little prince of yours. I’ve been terribly negligent as a host.”

She’s sure the toothy grin she wears is terrifying, but Snow White just nods and smiles right back at her.

“Art thee not accompanied by Lady Mirror this evening, stepmother?” Snow White asks, suddenly, just as Lesso is about to go.

Lesso turns to narrow her eyes at the princess suspiciously. “I am. What’s it to you?”

“Oh, nothing of import.” Snow White replies, leading the way to the king’s chambers, a path which Lesso is fortunately very unfamiliar with. “She was just merely discussing the properties of kindness with me the other day, and I wished to continue our riveting conversation, that is all. But we must hurry. Father is ill. I shall come speak to Lady Mirror some other time.”

Lesso swallows down her question about Snow White being in her rooms when she isn’t there and just follows, figuring she’ll ask Dovey later.

The young princess wasn’t lying about the king. When they get to the king’s chambers, the prince is already there, pacing outside. He hears them coming, and lifts his red eyes to meet Lesso’s.

“Witch!” He says, drawing his sword out. Lesso just raises an eyebrow. “Thou have poisoned thy own husband!”

Lesso tilts her head to the side. “Guards?” She calls out, ignoring the prince. When the guards that have been playacting dead besides her step out, she orders, not sparing the prince another glance, “This man here has been trespassing on royal grounds for the past,” she looks to Snow White. “How long has he been here, little princess?”

“A fortnight, stepmother,” the princess replies primly.

“Two weeks,” Lesso continues, ignoring the way the prince looks incredulously at Snow White. “I’d say a similar amount of time in the dungeons would be fitting, don’t you, darling?”

“Witch! Poisoner! Thou art the corrup–”

Snow White speaks over the prince. “I agree, stepmother.”

“Splendid!” Lesso claps her hands, and takes a step forward. With a slice from her fingernails, she tears off a piece of the prince’s shirt, and stuffs it in his mouth before he can say anything else. His eyes are, objectively, perhaps, attractive, yet right now they are terribly ugly, glaring up at her with the utmost hatred. Lesso smiles at it. She dusts her hands off and steps back. “All yours, dear guards.”

The king is breathing very lightly when Lesso steps into the room, Snow White at her heels, neither of them sparing the struggling prince another glance. In the enormous bed, the king is even smaller, and his fluff of white hair almost comical against the pale bedsheets. His eyes open at the sound of their entrance, but they widen with shock and something like fear when he sees that it is Lesso who walks in.

“What-” The king breaks off into a fit of coughing. Lesso waits patiently for him to recover, and when he does, he continues, with a tremor in his voice not so easily hidden, “What art thee doing here?”

“I’m your wife,” Lesso says, her toothy grin wolfish. “Where would I be but at your bedside, dear husband?”

“Thou,” the king breaks off again, “Thou art no wife of mine. Speak no more of the blasphemy. No witch shall call herself my wife.”

“Stepmother is no witch, father,” Snow White says before Lesso can reply, from her perch at her father’s bedside. She’s taken a wet cloth and is running it over the king’s forehead gently, but her words are anything but. “Thy prince is more demon than stepmother.”

“Fie!” The king exclaims, or tries to before he breaks into a cough again. “How can thou speak of thy future husband in such ways?”

“I do not wish to marry him, father,” Snow White replies, the knuckles of her right hand clenching the cloth going white for a moment. She must remember herself quickly, though, because her hand loosens immediately. “I wish only to be myself, and to rule the kingdom the way thee have shown me: justly, and with grace.”

“Not marry?” The king’s eyes nearly bug out of his pale frame. “Child, art thee aware of what thee have just spoken of?”

“I am, father. And should I have my way, I swear to thee I shall be the greatest ruler this realm has ever had.”

“Witch!” The king bellows, before bursting into another cough. “Witch!” He chokes out, jerking himself away from Snow White’s touch. “Out!”

Snow White sets the cloth down, and with a sad look at her father’s shaking frame, stands to move next to Lesso once again. “I have tried, stepmother,” she says, in a low tone. “I had held hope that father would see reason.”

Lesso is watching Snow White when she realizes something that, while it sends a flash of glee through her heart, also terrifies her. The young girl is looking up at her, sadness coloring her countenance, yet she stands straight and tall and Lesso asks, without thinking, “Did you do this, Snow White?”

There is no mistaking the glint of insidiousness that passes through the princess’s eyes, but when Snow White speaks, Lesso knows on instinct she is telling the truth. “No, stepmother. But,” Snow White’s voice drops even lower, and Lesso has to lean in to hear, “but I have not stopped it either.”

Lesso watches her carefully as she processes this. Snow White is no longer the defenseless child that she once was, and if she could think of murdering her own father, what’s to stop her from taking a knife to the stepmother who has never been kind to her? “What do you mean?”

“I have known of the prince’s plot to take over my throne,” Snow White replies, her eyes cast down. “But I did nothing to warn father of such dangers.” Snow White raises her head suddenly, and Lesso is nearly caught off guard by the glint of tears in her eyes. “I do not wish father any harm, stepmother. I did not think the prince would resort to such measures. Am I a bad princess, a bad daughter, then?”

Lesso appraises her carefully, searching for any sign of deceit. She sees none, and internally, ironically, heaves a sigh of relief. If the Good princess had indeed resorted to poisoning, this story would have been irrevocable and all of Lesso and Dovey’s hard work would be down the drain.

“No, daughter.” Lesso says, almost without thinking. She doesn’t miss the way Snow White’s eyes light up, but she doesn’t acknowledge it either. “I will let you attend to your father. Make sure he doesn’t die just yet. I have things I need to do.”

Snow White nods solemnly, and Lesso sweeps out of the sickroom. She pauses for a moment by the king’s bed, his forehead covered with sweat and his eyes full of fear, and bends down to whisper something in his ear.

The king’s eyes go wide, and he passes out cold.

Lesso takes a quick trip down to the dungeons, next. The prince is there, his eyes buggy in the dim torch light of the damp dungeons. The guards had removed his perfunctory gag, but he was quiet until Lesso stepped into the room.

“Well,” Lesso says, stepping neatly over a pile of feces, “Isn’t this just fit for a prince like yourself?”

The prince glares at her. For some reason, the glare is more comforting than not. If the prince had any brains, he would be graveling and begging her for release, and then, once free, begin plotting his revenge. He is nothing like Rafal, Lesso thinks with a shudder of disgust as she watches the prince wretch himself into a more graceful position considering the shackles on his ankles. Though with his manipulative skills, cruelty, and general moral depravity, Charming only needed a little more polishing before he would have been a fine villain.

Although, he is Good in name. And Good does not know how to bow down and bide their time. Good is stubborn and sticks to their noble causes until the end. It’s one of the many things Lesso despises about Good: not knowing when to cower and when to fight. Then again, pride is one of the things about Good Lesso most admires.

She’s got complicated feelings towards Good.

“Witch,” the prince spits out. “What did thee do to the poor princess Snow White?”

“Nothing,” Lesso replies. She looks around, before finding a chair that isn’t covered with fur or mold, and pulls it up next to the prince to sit down on it. “I can’t say the same for you.”

“Whatever do thee mean?” The prince demands. “Let me go free, or I shall ensure that my father hears about the mistreatment that I have suffered at thy witch hands.”

“Oh?” Lesso raises an eyebrow, planting her foot squarely on one of the chains that shackles the prince on the ground. “That’s not the right way to plead with your captor, Charming. Try something else.”

The prince grits his teeth. “Let me go.”

“Hm, not good enough,” Lesso examines her nails again. One of them has rusted, and it bothers her to no end. “Kneel at my feet and beg me to let you go. Then, maybe, I’ll consider it.”

“How dare thee speak to me in such a manner!” The prince rages. “My father will hear about this mistreatment.”

“Really?” Lesso leans down, and whispers, close enough that only the prince and not the guards can hear her. “And what will your great father say when I tell him you have been plotting the murder of my husband, Snow White’s father, hm? What do you think he will have to say about me keeping you here at my feet then?”

The prince’s face pales. “Foul words, false words! ‘Tis nothing but lies!”

“Oh, really?” Lesso purrs, enjoying the fear that lights up in the prince’s eyes. She feels vindicated, for some reason, almost as though she is taking revenge for the young fourteen year old girl she had been once. “And what if I found, say, a vial of thallium in your guest chambers? Do you think your father will believe you then? Better yet, Charming, do you think your father would risk war with me because you poisoned my husband?”

The prince, already pale, pales even more at the mention of thallium. No doubt he had thought himself clever, the odorless and tasteless poison difficult to detect for most people. And he had given the king dosages carefully, too, spreading them out over the past six months. Unfortunately for him, Lesso was the one who had given him the poison in the first place.

She scoffs. She can’t believe the prince actually believed that the royal kitchen would just have thallium lying around for him to use. She could have labeled it ‘POISON’ and it wouldn’t have been more obvious it was a trap.

“Pathetic.” Lesso spits out. She isn’t sure if she’s angry at the prince for being so stupid, or if she’s mad at herself, raising Nevers who lose to heroes like that. She stands, and aims a kick at the prince’s shins just to be petty, cackling at the way he shrinks, winces. “I’ll bring you up for the funeral next week. Can’t have you missing all the fun.”

She nods at the guards as she leaves, and in her peripheral vision she sees them moving towards Charming. The guards aren’t Evil or Good, but they certainly have a bone to pick with the arrogant prince, and Lesso is happy to let them have free rein.

Back at her room, she takes Dovey out and prepares for the inevitable onslaught of questions. Dovey doesn’t disappoint. “How did you know it was thallium poisoning?”

“I left some in the kitchen.”

Dovey gasps. “Is that why you were so nice to the cook? I knew something was up!”

Lesso holds her hand to her chest and pretends to be hurt. “Princess, despite what you might believe, I am capable of doing things for no insidious reason.” She continues, dropping the act, “Did knowing the cook make it easy for me to leave the poison there? Sure. Did I give the cook trinkets to give to her very nasty little son because I wanted to use her? Certainly not. I saw a murderous quality in her son, and I am nothing if not a person who values talent.”

“So why did you put poison in the kitchen? Was it to murder the king?”

“No, to murder the eggplant. What else am I going to use poison for?”

“You- You can’t! Murder! Lesso!”

“Look,” Lesso runs a hand across her eyes, “I left the poison there. It was the prince’s choice to use it. I didn’t even know who was using it when it started disappearing, and besides, it’s not like I left it there with a Poisoning Father-In-Laws instructions manual.”

“But you left it there, knowing he might use it.”

“And the cook leaves her knives there every night, knowing that I might decide to take one and go on a mass murdering spree!”

“You don’t have the motives he does.”

Lesso snorts. “Which only makes me more dangerous.”

Dovey falls silent. Lesso is sure there will be more questions, though, so she threads her hands together and sits down, content to wait.

“How did you know he wouldn’t use it on you?” Dovey asks, finally.

Lesso shrugs. “I didn’t. It’s called faith and courage, I believe you Evers are supposed to know about that?”

“But!” Dovey didn’t look mad before, but now she looks pissed. “Lesso! You could have died!”

“Emphasis on the could have. I didn’t. Besides, I’m not completely suicidal. I knew when the vial disappeared, and only the cook touched my food. I made sure of it.”

“But,” and to her complete and utter dismay, as well as shock, Dovey’s eyes are wide and looking increasingly watery, “Lesso. You didn’t even tell me- I had no idea- How could you put yourself in so much danger?”

“You said Good doesn’t murder, so I kept you in the dark. Plausible deniability, remember?” She taps her temple, smirking, but if anything it only seems to encourage Dovey’s tears. “Oh, stop being so melodramatic. I haven’t died, alright? I’m fine. I really am.”

“But you could’ve.” Dovey sniffs.

“I also could’ve choked on my spit answering your questions. I didn’t, though.” In spite of herself, Lesso finds herself stepping closer to the mirror. Not for the first time, she wishes that Dovey wasn’t a mirror, because when she touches her fingers to Dovey’s face she feels only cold, smooth, unyielding glass. At the same time, she’s glad of Dovey’s lack of a physical form. They’d be pressed much closer if she had one, and at the thought Lesso has to repress the flickering of old fear down her spine from the last time someone pressed her to them.

“I’m sorry, Clarissa, for not telling you. Okay?”

“Not again.” Dovey warns her, her voice hard despite the watery glint in her eyes. “We’re in this quest together, do you understand? And I won’t have you dying before we finish it. I won’t allow it.”

Lesso snorts. “Aw, my very own mirror protector.”

Dovey blinks hard and turns her face away. Lesso takes a step back, recognizing that Dovey needs space. She clears her throat. “You know, normally, princess, this is right about when I would start needing to do CPR on you."

Dovey sniffs, and takes a deep breath. "I haven't had a panic attack for some time, now."

"Oh?" Lesso raises an eyebrow. "So I need to amp up the anxiety I induce."

"You already do enough of that." Dovey's voice is too quiet, too desolate, and Lesso's plan to make things lighter is failing completely. The silence that falls after Dovey's statement is awkward, and because Lesso isn't the one making it so, it makes her nearly want to squirm.

She tries again, after a while. "So, princess, want to tell me about this non-educational arrangement you have with Snow White behind my back?”

It takes a minute, but Dovey flushes, snapping her out of whatever loop she was falling into. “It’s boring in here when you go off doing Storian knows what. Snow White’s been keeping me company. And don’t phrase it like that, you make it sound so inappropriate.”

Lesso smirks. “If the shoe fits.”

“Lesso.”

“Fine. So, what do you guys talk about?”

Dovey raises an eyebrow, looking for a split second uncannily like Lesso. “Snow White’s a very thoughtful girl. She talks about her feelings with me, which would kill you to do.”

“Princess!” Lesso mock gasps. “You wound me. For the second time this conversation, I might add.”

“You’re such a drama queen.”

“Goody two shoes.”

Dovey’s eyes roll back so hard Lesso is worried about them finding their way back. “Name calling? Really?”

“Only for you, my sweet.” Lesso cackles. Dovey just shakes her head. It isn’t until later when they’re both somber once again at the prospect of the quest finally, finally ending, that Lesso thinks to ask:

“How do we get back, do you know?”

“It feels like it’s been forever since we received the Storian’s quest.” Dovey says longingly. “And I don’t. I’ve never been on a quest like this.”

“Fucking hell.” Lesso mutters, and presses her fingers to her forehead. “At least the old ass will be dead soon.”

“Because of the prince.”

A wry smile curves Lesso’s lips. “Yes, princess, entirely because of the prince.”