"Can I rest with you?"
Snow White half-closed her eyes and settled on the bed, being careful of her position: she didn't want to risk hurting Grimilde.
The queen didn't hesitate to answer. "Of course, but I'm afraid you'll be uncomfortable."
"I'm perfectly fine..." she whispered, smiling.
Minutes of silence passed, their breathing the only sound filling the room. Just as Grimilde became convinced that Snow White was about to fall asleep, the princess spoke, her voice barely a breath.
"Ilde... what kind of relationship did you have with your family?"
The girl's voice was weak and uncertain. She was afraid of hurting her by asking about her past; she second-guessed herself a moment later and apologized, ashamed of her own insensitivity.
"I'm sorry..."
Grimilde opened her eyes and took a deep breath.
"Don't apologize. If I were in your shoes, I would ask these questions too. I love your curiosity and this need of yours to always know more; it's admirable. I do avoid talking about my family, that much is true. My childhood, as you know, was difficult because of my health issues..."
The pause in her sentence hinted at an unspoken awareness they both shared. Poison was the cause of Grimilde's ailments, and her family had covered everything up, harming her in small but fatal doses.
"Since we have the whole night, I could tell you a lot of things, but we are both tired."
"That wouldn't be a problem for me... the idea of listening to you all night long is tempting."
This made Grimilde smile. She grew serious again only after gathering her thoughts to begin the story.
"For decades, my family has been divided into factions with various blood ties, and conflict persists even among siblings. The competition was as official as it was unspoken: contests were held to evaluate and choose the most worthy heirs, but it was a royal secret and never spoken of openly. Summoning demons or possessing dark knowledge and power were the prerequisites for truly being part of the family..."
"What happened to those who weren't considered worthy?"
Snow White immediately grasped the real issue. The family's conflicting nature would have made life difficult for anyone, but what truly worried her was knowing what happened to the unworthy.
"Weak people are rejected by the family."
The queen's harsh words deeply saddened Snow White, because she knew Grimilde had been cast out by her family. She didn't understand why that had happened, though, considering the blonde woman possessed the power to interact and forge pacts with demons.
She got to learn part of the story when Grimilde began recounting her first participation in the family contest, when she was only eight years old. It had been a day like any other, at least at first, but at the moment of the ritual, those present had started looking at her differently. In fact, one could say they had simply started looking at her.
"My brothers didn't seem happy to see me, or maybe it was just my impression. I wanted to play with them, but I was too little, they said. I was forced to stay in my room all day because going out would weaken me. I did get sick sometimes, it's true, but I wanted to play! To go into the garden to read something or see the little lake near the house. They never let me go out alone... never.
"Soon, the day of the contest arrived. I had never understood what the adults meant when they talked animatedly about the 'contest', but I understood one thing perfectly: it was important to the family.
"Since I was a child, they had taught me to simulate a demonic summoning, and my teachers had been very strict about it: no mistakes were allowed if I didn't want to risk my skin. What did that even mean? My skin... I risked my skin just tripping on the ground!
"Returning to the contest... preparations had been ongoing for a week, and the whole family had gathered at the royal palace. I could finally leave my room whenever I wanted and see my brothers and distant relatives! Even if they hadn't spoken a word to me, I would have been happy just to see new faces and attend a party. Our birthdays weren't significant, at least not until we were fully accepted into the family. That's what Maria, my personal assistant, used to say! I called her that because I didn't like the word 'servant'... even though everyone else called her that.
'Grimilde? Come, it will be your turn soon.' My father called me in the middle of the party, and I ran to him, happy to receive his attention. I didn't see him often, and when we happened to be in the same room with him, we had to lower our heads in reverence and not speak without his permission. He was always quiet, but he didn't seem evil...
"My father personally escorted me to the area where I was supposed to perform the ritual. I was nervous, because it was the first time I was doing it alone and in front of everyone. I was afraid of embarrassing my family and terrified of making my father angry. I gathered my courage and tried to meet his gaze, and when he looked back at me, I realized he wasn't what I expected: his facial expression seemed tense and made of ice, just like my older brothers said.
'We can begin.' With all those people around, I started panicking. My hands were shaking and my heart was pounding; I wanted to hide from all those eyes! I couldn't, I just couldn't do it.
"I forced myself to be strong and followed every step of the teachings I had received to perform the demonic summoning ritual. The floor under my feet had been smeared with red; I began drawing lines to complete the circle and symbols to 'decorate' it. I didn't really know what I was doing, but once the drawing was finished, I moved, sitting on the ground, and began whispering that sort of nursery rhyme I had learned with my teachers.
"My father continued to watch me from afar, but I saw him moving further and further away, step by step. My brothers were tense, but something told me they didn't wish for my success. I was truly terrified of failing in front of everyone...
"I kept whispering, easily remembering what I had to say, then something strange happened. My body grew hot and my hands tingled, then a very intense light rose from the circle; a deafening noise rang out, terrifying everyone present. I tried to stand up, scared, but I fell to the ground when the floor shook beneath my feet. A blood-curdling scream pierced the air, something feral and inhuman.
"What happened next was a blur. I had passed out; someone had taken me to my room, and I never saw my father again. Maria told me I had done well, but that it was necessary to learn to control my powers and that it was dangerous to keep them all locked inside me. In the following days, I started feeling sick, just like in the months prior, and there was no way to go out and play or see my brothers... and yet I had believed that my father would allow me to truly know them. To know him, too..."
"From that day on, I was alone again, and I never got to know the reason why. My mother had died in childbirth, and Maria was the only person who looked after me, showing genuine affection. If it weren't for her, who knows how I would have grown up..."
Grimilde paused her story and thought about what might be running through Snow White's mind. Was she sorry? Her Bianca was far too good and empathetic; she would certainly suffer alongside her.
"It was around the time I was nine that I attempted to escape my personal prison, and that's how I found the forbidden room where they kept Astrael locked up."
Snow White left a kiss on Grimilde's cheek, tightening her hold on her. Deep in her heart, the princess was suffering greatly over the childhood the queen had endured, but somehow, she felt even closer to her, because they were alike. They had both lived with loneliness for a long time, their fathers had been absent, and both their mothers had died young.
It was like a revelation: Grimilde was the person who could understand her the most deeply, the one who would embrace every one of her weaknesses and imperfections, precisely because she understood them intimately.
"What happened then?"
"Astrael managed to escape, or at least I thought so, and my family turned their backs on me. At fourteen, they married me off to the King of Arran..."
At that point, Snow White gathered her courage, and for the first time, allowed herself to be curious about the relationship between Grimilde and her father. How had he treated her? Had he been respectful to her? Her father was a good man, but his wife's death had devastated him, and Snow White understood him for that reason.
She was embarrassed, however, to feel jealousy toward her late father, and it was such a disturbing thought. She loved Grimilde, but she couldn't marry her, couldn't raise children with her, couldn't love her openly as she desired... her father could have. Maybe he had even gotten close to her in all those years... and Grimilde was so beautiful after all, who could resist her?
"Did my father... t-treat you w-well these past years?"
Grimilde closed her eyes, thinking back to the years she had been married to Snow White's father. Her loneliness had been almost comforting; because as much as she wanted to be welcomed into a new family, she didn't love the king. She would never have loved him the way a marriage required.
At fourteen, she had only felt fear. Then, growing up, she realized that Snow White's father needed a companion to support him in his role as ruler; his late wife was a ghost that haunted his eyes, his bedroom—a room Grimilde had never been summoned to. The thought comforted her as much as it saddened her, at least during her teenage years: she had believed she wasn't even enough as a woman, and her pride would have taken yet another blow, had she not understood the king's suffering.
"Your father suffered a great deal... I was never able to help him with that. I admired his devotion to your mother, and to this day, I think of him as a competent and dedicated king. I confess I felt lonely, but your presence always comforted me. We were so similar and close, yet so far apart."
Snow White took a moment to reflect: it was likely that the rumors circulating in the castle when Grimilde became her stepmother were true. People said the king didn't desire his new wife, even though he made a point to honor and respect her properly in front of others.
Snow White had always wanted to meet her, at least to know what she was like; she would never have considered her a mother, both because she was far too young for it in her eyes, and because she had already had a mother, who was now in heaven, watching over her.
"One day I saw you in the royal palace garden. You were just a young girl at the time..." Grimilde smiled at the memory.
She had never seen Snow White before that day, and when her eyes landed on her, she instantly understood why the princess was the constant talk of the palace. She was truly enchanting at her young age, a newly bloomed flower that would only grow more beautiful and mature with time. The queen hadn't had the courage to speak to her, but she had promised herself that one day she would approach her.
"I used to look for you in the palace. Even though I could never gather the courage to get close," the princess whispered, revealing a childhood secret.
They often returned to these topics, perhaps because they were full of missed encounters and unspoken words.
"In my eyes, you were an unreachable angel."
"In mine, too."
The two women sighed contently, for now they could hold each other; they could touch and adore each other up close. Grimilde kissed Bianca's head, stroking her ebony hair.
"We should rest now..."
"Mh..." Snow White mumbled something: she was so exhausted that she fell asleep shortly after.
The queen remained awake just a moment longer, pausing to think about her past. She felt she had lived far too many lives—moving from the north of the continent to become a queen in Arran, a widow, a demon's collaborator, and a devoted lover. Her life had never been so full of events and opportunities: this was something that frightened her as much as it excited her.
Her thoughts kept dragging her in a direction that made her uneasy: she feared her family was somehow involved in the attempted murders against her. It was a horrible thing to think, but she needed to make sure who the real enemy hiding in the shadows was. Ronald Ohniz, Morfeus... they were just puppets, of that Grimilde was certain. And Astrael was far too mysterious these days—not like his usual self—because his eyes offered glimpses of secrets he wasn't yet willing to reveal.
Despite the confusion reigning in Grimilde's head, she eventually fell asleep too, spending peaceful hours wrapped around Snow White's warm body.