Author's Note: I really loved the Queen in Snow White and the Huntsman, like how they did her character and everything. The special effects were awesome too. Anyway, enjoy!

(disclaimer: I do not own any part of Snow White and the Huntsman.)

The Queen had been content in her first few years of rule. Snow White, the only force that would ever present a challenge, had been slain. She laid a hand on her chest above her heart, which pounded in response to the thought of her most glorious battle. Of course, she couldn't really call it her heart. It was the only thing of hers that she would ever say didn't belong to her. For the struggles she had faced when she was young had breed a possessive monster that only craved more and more. Everything else, every last blade of grass in the kingdom and every last soul, was hers. Yes, she was happy with her reign in those beginning years.

Then, like one of the rocks outside the castle being beaten down by the pounding waves, she grew tired. The Queen was still the fairest of them all, as the mirror preached to her every day, but she felt that there was something she was missing. Her power was still there, humming inside her like a caged bird, but it lacked luster. What good were immortality, beauty, and magic if they couldn't be used for anything? As the Queen once again found herself sitting on her throne, she tapped a polished, sharp fingernail against her head. Excitement was all she needed, just something. She gazed out the window and into what was left of her dying garden. In the middle of the twisted branches and razor thorns was a single, blood red rose. It reminded her of Snow White, and just like the plant an idea began to blossom in her mind. She rose from her chair with unconscious grace and gestured for guards to follow. With a last look at the rose and a snap of her fingers she left the throne room, turning her back as the flower caught fire and burned.

The prisons in the towers these days weren't full of any of the Queen's victims or rebels as they used to be. Instead she only kept those who proved useful to her, forcing them into submission. She had a favorite whom hadn't spoken a single word during his imprisonment, she admired his heart.

"Oh Huntsman, I have need of you." Her voice sang through the completely silent cell, echoing off the walls. She heard others shuffle at the mere sound of it, like a mouse hearing the cry of a hawk.

"You should know by now that I won't ever do anything for you," a gruff voice answered.

She strode up to his door, frowning as her gown swept across the floor, and with a flick of her fingers it blew off its hinges. "I don't care about your opinion. I need to know where Prince William keeps his army, and you will tell me."

The Queen expected some sort of resistance in his eyes, or maybe in his posture. Instead, he reminded her of a broken plate. His eyes, once so lively, were unfocused and dead. He was sitting up on his cot, legs tangled in the sheets and arms resting on his lap uselessly. The Huntsman, who once braved the Dark Forest, looked like if someone poked him he would simply fall part.

"The rebellion ended when she died. There is no army." His voice cracked slightly at the mention of Snow White. For the first time some emotion flickered across his face. "There is no army."

The Huntsman's words proved true, for no matter where her spies searched there was no hint of a rebellion. The Queen herself went out to William's father's castle in search of life. The only thing she found was a building falling in on itself. Once grand towers caved in and the rest of it choked with vines. She whipped her cape and transformed into her favorite form, a large group of crows, and returned to her own palace.

The Queen lingered in the threshold of her most precious room. It was the color of sand from floor to ceiling, completely empty except for a large, gold mirror on the wall. Well, there was her suit of armor. She halted by the piece that marked where she had taken the heart of Snow White. She touched the chest plate lightly, fingers scraping against the elaborate designs. Then she shook her golden head and went to the mirror.

"Mirror, mirror on the wall. Who is the fairest of them all?" she whispered, and then waited. Usually a molten, golden pool poured from the mirror before forming into the form of a man covered completely by a blanket of gold. However there was no movement, not even a shimmer on the surface of the mirror. The Queen narrowed her eyes and leaned forward to inspect it. The reflection on the candles lighting the room blinded her for a moment before the image on it became clear again.

The Queen jerked back, nearly stumbling over her own feet. Her blue eyes widened to the point where it was painful, and she clutched the fabric above her heart. In the reflection was Snow White, starring apathetically at the Queen.

"You. Are. Dead." The Queen gasped.

"I cannot be dead while my heart still beats," she answered. She sounded muffled, as if trying to speak with a pillow over her mouth. "This is the price for your crime. While you took my life to extend yours, part of me will always live inside you."

The Queen, choked with denial and, for the first time since she was a little girl, fear screamed and lashed out with her magic. A crack started where she was standing and raced up the wall to where the mirror attached. With a loud BOOM it crashed to the floor, and then shattered into tiny shards of gold that sparkled in the air. Everything was still, silent except for the Queen's harsh breathing.

I will always be in your heart. Snow White's crystal clear whisper seemingly came from inside her head.

The Queen slumped against the wall, clutching at it for support. For the first time since his death, she truly craved her brother's presence. As her mind whirled she realized her discomfort with her throne over the past few years was a branch of Snow White's own feelings. She noticed a large chunk of mirror still intact on the floor, and carefully picked it up with one hand still clinging to the wall. She gazed at her reflection, and was immediately relaxed, surely if she was still beautiful than this couldn't be the worst. She was still the fairest of them all, immortal.