"Mirror, mirror, on the wall, whose the fairest of them all?"
The temptation to say it had been way too great for her. She stroked the side of the mirror, a long finger running over the beautiful gold designs of its frame, her soft, silkily voice a purr when she spoke. Her eyes narrowed, her head tilted to one side as she stared into its depths.
"You are the fairest, the most beautiful in the land." It spoke as if waking from a deep, deep sleep, which, she thought, it was, really. No one had spoken to this mirror in centuries, not since her great-great-great, oh whatever, she thought. That old hag who had bewitched the child, the beautiful maiden of fairy tales who lived with dwarves and sang, according to Disney. But she knew the true tale, she knew that 'Snow White' had been a vain, conceited child who hated her step mother with a burning passion, who had run away to be found by a kindly man under her ancestors payroll.
The girl twirled her blonde hair in her fingers, smiling at the mirror, sharp blue eyes narrowed wickedly. Of course her family were beautiful, one of the oldest in the land, she knew. She'd done her research – traced her family back to the time of fairy tales, to the legends and myths that made up their society. The mirror had been a temptation, stuffed in attics and left the rot, to crumble, because who wanted to succumb to the evilness of vanity?
Well, she did. And she had no problems with admitting it. She had found the mirror, restored it to its former glory, scrubbing at the surface until her face shone back at her, carefully scraping dirt from the frame. Now, she reached forward, a finger running down the reflective metal, and letting out a well contented sigh.
"Good." She grinned once more, before turning around and heading towards the door. "'Cos I'm out on the pull tonight, and I defiantly need to look good." With a soft laugh, she slammed the door shut behind her. The slam rocked the room, the mirror shook and it let out a sigh.
Unbeknownst to her, every female of the family had asked him the exact same question, ever since the death of the witch. And, learning from his mistakes of the past, he had given the same answer, over and over again. He just hoped the girl wasn't too disappointed tonight, for he was aware of a dark haired, pale as snow skinned, red lipped beauty that would be in the same place as the girl who had asked him 'the' question, and he was aware she was the one likely to win over the hearts and minds of any man to cross her path.
And of course the teenage girl wasn't aware of her mother, her grand-mother, her great-grandmother and every other female member of the family asking him over and over again who was the fairest of them all.
After all, succumbing to vanity was one thing, but to admit to it was simply arrogant.