That's what she was.

Eerily, fantastically soft.

Her hands slid up fabrics, touched dry skin that she wished could dampen once more. Oh. How she missed the dampness mingling with velvet folds.


Her booted feet squished fragile bones, flesh sticking to the heels of the shoes, dangling off strings of intestine and blood.


They had been easy enough to kill, though. A spell here, a spell there, something to send them flying every which way, bodies twisting and contorting sickly as they fell to the ground, lifeless. It was their own fault. They had gotten in the way, and they paid the price.

There are two kinds of people in the world…

Her fingers tingled, longing for the warmth she had felt when the girl was tied up. Tied up and spread out like a cheap tavern whore. Used. Tainted. That's all she was. And it served her right.


A single tear slid down her cheek, sliding down down down and stopping at the side of her mouth. Her tongue slid out, tasting the delicious salt. The regret she expected wasn't overflowing. No. All she could feel was lust.

It burns.

"You poor thing." She whispered, leaning down, stroking her cheek gently with her free hand. A part of her wished she was really dead. Not merely asleep, but dead. Unable to ever be awoken again. True love's kiss. She scoffed, knowing well that the prince would not escape. He would not press his lips to her precious Snow's.

I don't love you.

The Queen leaned down further, her lips pressing gently against lips as red as blood. There was no warmth. No breath to stimulate her further. Only forced submission.

You always forced me, stepmother.

She nipped at Snow's bottom lip, tasting nothing. Feeling nothing. Wanting everything.

"My kiss won't wake you, dear stepdaughter. Nothing will." Another kiss. Another nail in her coffin.