Biancaneve looked up at the mature, elegant woman who was approaching. She had never seen anyone more fascinating: it was as if silence had fallen in the grove when the woman arrived and even the birds had stopped chirping. Bianca, as her father always called her, was blushing, she felt embarrassed. She stood up, to welcome her majestic figure into her space. She had never spoken to that woman in person, but she was still her stepmother and queen and she had to show reverence.
"Her majesty ..." Bianca lowered her head. The queen continued to observe her without saying anything else: she stopped a few steps away from her. Near them stretched a small pond of water with luxuriant flowers that adorned its surface.
"How can I help you?" The princess turned even redder in the face. Her colored cheeks were now a clear sign of his shyness and fear of her. Her wonderfully white skin, which had given her the name of Snow White, Biancaneve, was a double-edged sword: it represented the distinctive symbol of her beauty but it was also a canvas that was easily smeared. If she got embarrassed, she couldn't hide it.
"Biancaneve..." Queen Grimilde whispered her name, processing those letters, forming that word hesitantly. It was her first time. She had never called the name of the dead king's daughter. For some reason that man had hidden her for years, but he was no longer present in that world and Grimilde could do as she wanted in her realm. She had married the king at the age of 14, she knew nothing of love, much less the reality of adults. The king had welcomed her but never allowed himself to touch her; it was almost as if he had the ghost of his deceased wife eternally occupying his rooms and he didn't want Grimilde to come near him. At that time, Biancaneve existed only as a name for Grimilde: she had never seen her, probably because the king had not wanted that to happen. The queen suspected that the old man believed he was protecting his daughter from the envy of his new wife, but that was not the case.
Grimilde would have liked to know her stepdaughter during her maturing years, maybe she would have found comfort and warmth in that cold and often silent castle. Biancaneve had therefore grown away from her and Grimilde had done the same. The queen looked at the young woman: she now knew that she would be eighteen, as there would be a party in the palace to welcome the girl into the adult world.
Grimilde found it strange that there were only six years of difference between her and her stepdaughter. It seemed a lot, but at the same time so little. They could have been friends in another reality and not stepmother and daughter. Although, to be honest, they weren't even that. Grimilde, however, wanted to meet her and the desire to do so had grown as soon as she had seen her. She now understood why the court only spoke of Snow White's beauty and she finally had proof that her magic mirror was telling the truth. Undoubtedly, Snow White was the most beautiful in the whole kingdom of Arran.
Grimilde realized that the young girl was radiant with her skin as white as snow, those lips full and red as a rose. Her eyes were dark but alive, innocent and joyful, like a child's. She was so beautiful that even Queen Grimilde blushed. How could she have felt envy? She even felt honored to witness that enchanting vision of her. What struck her most was the vivid contrast between Snow White's skin and her pitch black hair. She suddenly imagined their hair braided and raised the corners of her mouth in a small smile: Grimilde had long blonde hair, which she was proud of, but she found herself believing that with those beautiful ebony locks, she could be even more beautiful.
She didn't feel envy, she was curious, this was a kind of infatuation. For Grimilde it was like observing a painting made by a renowned artist or witnessing a wonderful landscape.
"Can I call you Bianca?" The question had been involuntary. The queen hadn't even thought about it, but she remembered the late king talking about her daughter in that way. The girl in question looked surprised, but soon a bright smile appeared on her face: "Her majesty, you can call me whatever you wish." At those words Grimilde allowed herself to get even closer, suddenly seized by the desire to touch the fabulous creature. She found herself stroking Snow White's right cheek with her fingertips and when her lips closed, making her smile disappear, Grimilde felt guilty. She didn't want to scare her, she had to be nice.
"I was looking for you because I wanted to talk to you, Bianca." The queen affirmed, sliding the index finger of her hand under the girl's chin to lift it towards her. The queen was a little bit taller than her. They were very close and Grimilde could clearly see every detail of her face: Snow White's long, thick lashes gave the young woman an almost ethereal appearance, as if she were an angel or a fawn caught undisturbed.
"I am at your disposal, her majesty, you could have called me… I wouldn't like to have forced you to interrupt your duties for this. I ask for your forgiveness." Snow White's voice was just as Grimilde expected it: pleasant, sweet and warm, like the caress of a loved one, like a fire on a winter's day or like a soft and enveloping blanket.
"Don't worry, I wanted to join you myself… I'm glad of it. I find myself in front of a wonderful vision. '' Snow White listened to the queen with rapt attention, no longer intimidated by her peerless elegance. Her curious eyes leapt to the clothes she was wearing, the long white dress embellished with golden floral decorations. It was magnificent as the person who carried it on their body. Snow White would never admit it, but she envied all that beauty of her: she would have liked to wake up every morning with Grimilde's face. It was simply enchanting. Snow White recalled the past years, remembering the rare occasions she had seen the queen before her father died. For some reason the latter had never allowed any contact between the two. Yet several times she had asked to be able to converse with her stepmother but her father, tired of it, had always postponed the matter.
Perhaps, Snow White thought, he had feared that Grimilde's beauty and composure would make her feel unfit for comparison.
"Would you like to sit down?" The queen turned her eyes to the cloth lying on the lawn, which Snow White had probably brought so as not to sit on the grass and dirty her clothes. Only then did she realize that the girl was barefoot and she was standing with her bare feet right between the blades of grass. Did she like to feel nature in contact with her skin? Grimilde found herself smiling once more.
"Oh!" Snow White noticed Grimilde's gaze and blushed in her face, smiling shyly: "Your Majesty, you must know that the lawn is really soft… Sometimes I get lost in these little things. I guess you'll take me for a little girl now. " Snow White waited for the queen to sit down first, then took a seat on her towel too. Grimilde listened to her, amused by her embarrassment. She hugged her knees to her chest, wrapped her arms around them and continued to admire Snow White.
"Maybe I should try it too..." Grimilde whispered, shifting her feet on her towel, imagining what Snow White felt with her bare feet. The girl was kneeling, facing the queen, in a relaxed position but ready for any request she might receive from the woman beside her. She still did not believe that she was conversing with the dreaded queen. How was it possible, she wondered, that she was considered cold and mean? Queen Grimilde was really kind!
"Her majesty..." Snow White whispered, seized by her curiosity: she really wanted to know why she had been looking for her after years away. Could it be because of the king's death? Did she want to talk about that? Snow White still grieved the loss of her father, but since her mother died, he had walked away from her, building a wall between them. The king had ceased to be a real father long ago.
Grimilde realized that the girl wanted answers, but instead of starting to speak, she found herself approaching Snow White again.
The princess remained motionless, still feeling those strange shivers due to the closeness to her queen: after all she was a beautiful woman and she was a really important person. It was normal to feel all those confusing emotions and stomach discomfort, as if a swarm of butterflies were playing inside her.
"Do you know what a magic mirror is?" The queen's question was accompanied by a playful smile. Snow White looked at those rosy lips and those sky-blue eyes, shaking her head. Grimilde continued to speak: "It's a mirror that can give answer when questioned. Today, for example, I asked for the name of the most beautiful woman in the realm. In your opinion, what name did the mirror give?"
Snow White parted her red lips and did not notice she had brought her face close to the queen's: their noses almost touched. Grimilde remained motionless and anxiously awaited the words of the beautiful young woman.
"Grimilde..." she whispered, making the queen blush. "It said Grimilde, right?" Her dark doe eyes fixed on those of the older woman and were surprised by the intensity they concealed. Grimilde slowly raised her hand and touched Snow White's red lips: "No... it called your name, Snow White."