Once upon a time, there was a girl. There was nothing particularly special about her, at least nothing to warrant her current situation. Nothing in the delicate, pale features hinted as to why she was she was in her current state. You see, the girl was dead. Dead, but alive; she was trapped within perfect glass walls. She did not breathe, but she did not wither either. Instead, she dreamed.

Dreams were what she called them, though perhaps dreams were not the right name for the images that sprinted through the girl's head. Nightmares may be a more appropriate title for the shadows that dripped and twisted their way behind her closed eyes. At the beginning of her long sleep, she was still aware of the world around her, the sobs of the dwarves, the small chink every time a flying twig hit her glass coffin, with the shadows and their whispers hiding in the corners of her eyes. But, gradually, the shadows crept closer, overwhelming the outside world, and the whispers rose to screams, calling her name:

"Snow, Snow!"

Sometimes the voices attracted her. She would want nothing more than to wake, smash the glass of her coffin, and race to find the shadows, for surely they were her friends. But other times they repulsed her, and she would pray to sleep forever, just to prevent the day when she would have to meet the shadows. For she knew that day would come. She did not know when, and she did not know how, for she was trapped within her pretty walls, but she knew it would come. And that day would be the beginning of the end.

As it turned out, it would be three years of dreaming before the day came; three long years of waiting with bated breath for her prince to come, or the dreams to end. Finally, after many, many seasons, her long sleep ended.

The day the coffin opened was not, as is commonly believed, beautiful. Rather it was cold and grey, with a watery sun occasionally showing her face from behind a colourless mask of clouds. But it was not the chill in the air that Snow noticed when she opened her eyes. Rather, it was the frigid cruelty visible in the pair of black eyes less than a hands breadth from hers. She snapped her eyes shut in a pathetic attempt to shield against the malice looking down at her.

"Snow?" a rough voice, much different than the hissing voices of the shadows, called, "Lass are you awake? Wake up! Me and the lads have missed you fiercely."

This new voice belonged to one of the dwarves, the little men who had taken Snow in, cared for her when no one else would. She could not bring herself to ignore them. They were family.

When Snow opened her eyes for the second time, the dark eyes were still staring down at her. However, with her own brown eyes no longer clouded with sleep, she could see that the dark eyes were indeed not black, but a lovely sapphire with a concerned edge. The cruelty that had so frightened her seconds before had vanished without a trace. Once her fear of the terrifying eyes was calmed, she was able to study the rest of the face.

He, for the face indeed belonged to man, was quite attractive. He had a straight nose, a strong jaw, and a kind smile. A smile that was growing wider and brighter every second she stared at it. She could see nothing but those perfect, white teeth. Suddenly, the smile disappeared, replaced by faraway tree tops. Snow leapt up, eyes darting frantically, searching for that grin. She finally found it, now much closer to her own level, sitting beside the dwarf the possessor of the smile had tripped over. The dwarf and his brothers rushed to embrace Snow, and for a moment the strange man's face was filled with rage. Then the look was gone, and he was laughing, and Snow diverted her attention back to the dwarves.

They were an excitable group, always trying to do many tasks at once. At this particular moment, they were trying to both hug Snow and pull her to her feet simultaneously. Eventually, she stumbled to her feet, and fourteen hands reached up to steady her. Snow never felt safer than when she was with her dwarves.

Snow was so caught up in her reunion with the dwarves; she was unaware of the approach of the strange man. As such, she shrieked when his hand brushed her sleeve, whirling to face him. Her eyes met his, and her mind went blank. This time her mind was full of his eyes. It seemed as if all her thoughts, all her memories, all her will, had been replaced by those eyes.

"Hello." The mouth below the eyes said, "My name is Prince Mortecai. I woke you."

His voice was loud and clear, but she did not hear him, her innocent gaze still locked with his enchanting one. She seemed as if she would be content to just stare into his eyes for the remainder of her existence. So Mortecai clenched her arm in an iron grip, pulling her free of the tangled dwarf bodies. The dwarves made to follow her, but the Prince glared at them and they stilled. Then the screams began.

The cluster of dwarves crumbled to the ground, a horrible high pitched keening pouring from their throats. Limbs thrashed, and eyes rolled as smoke joined the screams burning the dwarfs' throats raw. A flash of fire, and only charred skeletons remained. Snow didn't even look back as flames consumed those she had once called family. She only had eyes for her Prince.

Mortecai led Snow through the forest, never loosening or relinquishing his fierce grip on her arm. She stumbled after him, staring at the beautiful blond curls brushing his shoulders, apprehension growing with every step. Something had happened in the clearing beside her coffin. Some great evil had worked its will there, but she could remember nothing but a pair of beautiful eyes. And the dwarves, where were they? They had not let her wander alone since the day she had been discovered sleeping on their doorstep. Those seven little men had made the most wonderful fathers, uncles, and brothers anyone could ask for. And now they were… gone.

Snow halted, gasping in horror at her realization. The dwarfs were dead. And she had just left them lying there, cold and alone. She had to get back! They had not abandoned her; she could not repay their many kindnesses like this. They had taken care of her, now it was her turn to care for them. She had to go back.

"Snow," Prince Mortecai, slightly ahead of her on the path, called back at her, "Love, whatever is the matter?" Though his words were kind, the Prince's voice was icy and sharp. It terrified the newly alert Snow.

"My friends…" She began haltingly, the words taking a tremendous effort, like each was a part of her being torn away. "They need help. They're family. I love them"

Suddenly, Mortecai was in front of her, face inches away from her own. Dark veins stood out on his forehead, teeth sharpened into razor points, and the blue of his eyes was drowned out by inky blackness. Hands on her shoulders, he shook Snow violently.

"No!" He screamed, spittle flying in her face. "You are my Princess! You do not love them! You love nothing but me! Me!"

And then he was kissing her, and she knew nothing but him.

For many days after this, the Prince led Snow along the path, never once looking at her, never speaking. In the silence, Snow found herself craving a glance from him, just one look to prove that he did not hate her for her earlier outburst. She needed him to forgive her, for she found that she could not live without him. Her days were spent questioning how she would continue to breathe without him, should she ever drive him away; for surely no force in the world could make her leave him. She loved him.

The day Mortecai finally spoke was the day the pair arrived at their mysterious destination. After countless days of walking through thick trees, they finally arrived at a perfect ring of oak trees. In the centre of the ring, a massive circle of polished black stone, so glossy that even the murky dusk sunlight reflected painfully into Snow's eyes. Awestruck, the girl stopped walking as the prince strode purposefully towards the stones.

"Come, my Princess," Mortecai said, his earlier foul mood lifting, "We are home." Obediently, Snow followed him.

Walking into the circle of trees, Snow felt a sharp tug on her wrist, as if someone or something very strong had grasped it. Spinning, she realized her wrist was bare, excepting a simple iron bracelet the dwarves had made for her. At that particular moment, the bracelet was twitching and pulling as if it had life of its own, and desperately did not want to be in this place. The prince stalked up to her, determined to drag her into the circle if he must. When he realized exactly what Snow was struggling against, his furious screech raised the hair on the back of her neck.

Gripping her forearm, Snow felt her wrist crack when Mortecai ripped her bracelet off. He let out a small cry of pain, and the smell of burning flesh filled the air like some macabre perfume. Snow dropped to her knees in pain and terror, clutching her broken wrist. Mortecai glared down at her.

"Compose yourself," he growled through gritted teeth, "your time comes at midnight."

Snow stopped, obediently rising to her feet, her pain faded and forgotten, accepting the pure white bundle the prince produced from somewhere. The world around her seemed blurry, unfocused, her hearing muted. She barely heard the Prince's command to bathe, not realizing it until her bare feet were stepping into an icy river.

She did not know how long she spent in the river, but when Morticai came to fetch her, she was dressed, and dry, combing her dark hair with her fingers.

The moon was bright and full, its light painting the man's golden hair silver. Snow rose to her feet at the sight of him, and silently took his hand. She followed him blindly along another, or perhaps the same, hidden path. Finally, they stepped out into the clearing housing the massive black circle. Mortecai strode purposefully to the centre of the circle, Snow trailing behind. Abruptly, he spun to face her.

"Now is your time," he said, strangely emotionless, "now you must choose. There are two paths and you can only walk one. One is short, but with a beautiful ending, the other, eternal, and is walked hand on hand with me. You can come with me, follow me to my kingdom, or you can die, and your blood shall sustain my people. Choose."

For a moment, just a moment, Snow's eyes were on the glossy black stone at her feet, and her thoughts were completely, utterly clear. In that instant, she knew. She knew what would happen, should she choose to die, the perfect happiness that would follow searing pain. And she knew what living would bring her; an eternity, at Mortecai's right hand, her will fading day by day, until nothing remained but a shell. The choice was clear. But then she looked up, and he was beautiful.

The moment her eyes rose and looked upon his face, she was lost. She could not imagine life without him, her Prince. She could not bear life, even a perfect afterlife, without him. He was the reason her heart beat her lungs breathed, her blood flowed. He was her life. Silently, she reached out, and took his hand. Mortecai grinned, revealing row upon row of crooked, razor teeth, the smile of a predator. He raised his right foot slightly, brought it down, and they were falling, dropping through the utter darkness of the stone.

As they fell, shadows, identical to the ones that had haunted her nightmares, rose out of the blackness. They reached for the falling pair, cradling them, slowing their descent. After what felt like an eternity of falling, her feet touched cool earth, and she was gently set upright. Before she had time to adjust to her surroundings, small nudges, like from nearly insubstantial fingers, started guiding her forward. She realized she was walking towards a brightly lit pedestal on which Mortecai, whose hand she had lost at some point during her long fall, stood.

She ascended the strangely oversized steps leading up to the pedestal, the bright light shining in her eyes, nearly blinding her. She snapped her eyes shut and let the shadowy fingers guide her. She didn't open her eyes again till the shadows guided her to a chair, and helped her to sit. Eyes open, she realized that the chair was, in fact, a throne, one of a pair. Mortecai stood in front of her, partially concealing the massive crowd of shadows clustered around the pedestal, holding the bright object in his now clawed hands. Ignoring the talons, Snow narrowed her eyes at the object.

It was a crown. A perfect oval of silver, inlaid with what appeared to be opals. A large diamond in the centre of the circlet was emanating the white glow, like a small parody of the sun. It was beautiful. She wanted it, needed it. Snow reached for the crown, but before she could even lay a finger on it, Mortecai's clawed hands placed it on her head. The bright stone was cool against her forehead. The Prince bowed slightly, and took a seat in her throne's twin, revealing the dark crowd behind him.

Snow gazed out at the writhing, coiling mass of shapes. The crowd rippled and pulsed, reaching forward as if in jubilation, but the cavernous room was eerily silent. Mortecai rose, drawing her to her feet to stand by his side, as the swarm of shadows shrunk back, bowing. Together, they stood, tall and proud, gazing out at the kneeling crowd. She looked out at the sea of shadows, and felt her fear ebb. Monsters though they were, they were her people, for she was the worst of them all. Never would ever surpass her, the queen of shadows.

This was yet another assignment from my English class. This time we were supposed to write a children's picture book. As you can see, mine didn't exactly turn out "appropriate for children", but I was pleased with it regardless. I've always felt that the princesses in fairytales were too quick to run off with their Prince Charming so I wrote a worse case scenario. I hope you enjoyed it.