“Where did it come from?” I say contemptuously, pursing my lips as I glance at the battered old mirror. I’ve never liked antiques, and I don’t want it.

“Your stepmother sent it as a wedding gift,” my husband sighs, rubbing his temples. “I know, honey, just ignore it, I suppose. She said she didn’t want it anyway.”

“How… generous of her,” I return, fighting a smile at my own cleverness. What a jealous old bat— likely a plot to spoil the rest of my life, which had been going MAGNIFICENTLY since she left it.

I stared into the mirror and observed my own reflection— yes, yes; skin as fair as ivory, hair as dark as ebony. My beauty was to kill for; perhaps to die for. I smirked.

“Mirror, mirror, on the dirt, just insult me… doesn’t hurt,” came a snide little voice from somewhere I couldn’t identify. I screamed theatrically, hoping my husband would come running.

“Whoa, there, horsey! Keep your panties on. I’m down here, where you so nicely dumped me.”

Instead of my reflection staring back at me, a young boy in sapphire robes leaned casually on its rim, as unamused and sour as a child that age can look.”

“How dare— ERIC!” I screech, repulsed by his sudden appearance and repugnant attitude.

“Cursed mirror, standard stuff, could go into the details but they’re boring,” the mirror-boy muses, inspecting his fingernails absently. “Lemme guess. If you’re anything like your stepmom— yeah yeah, she leaves the mirror on while you’re in the background, you’re gonna ask me who’s the fairest of ‘em all or something.”

I quiet down, curious. Glaring at him, I inquire, “No relation, but who IS the fairest?”

He laughs and tosses a long lock of platinum hair over his shoulder. “Now that the old cow isn’t around to bully me? ME, obviously. I’m so hot, I’m practically smoking. You’re pretty and all, but I was under the impression you had good in your heart— which I do not— therefore ranking you above Stepmommy Dearest. Pretty face, ugly soul, girl. Your husband ain’t half bad from what I’ve seen, though.”

“Eric!” I howl as he comes back around the corner.

“What’s wrong, love?” He panics, running to my side.

“THE MIRROR IS BACKTALKING TO ME,” I yell, pointing at it hysterically. I turn to see the snide silver-haired boy has entirely disappeared, revealing only my reflection.

“Are you okay, Snow? You might be coming down with a fever,” Eric frets, putting a hand to my forehead.

“I’m fine!” I snap, swatting him away. Then I let him carry me up to my bedroom anyway, because I don’t particularly want to climb another flight of stairs.

No sooner do I shut my eyes than I hear a resounding “Howdy.” Depicted life-size in my vanity mirror is the same insolent boy, satin robes and all.

“HOW DID YOU GET IN HERE?!” I bark, scrambling back against the covers.

“I followed you. Name’s Orion, by the way.” He winks at me flirtatiously with one black-and-gold eye. “Let’s cut the crap, Snowy Girl. You stop being a brat, and I can make myself a very useful ally. You keep whining, and I’ll get extremely annoying extremely fast.”

Eric bursts through the door, sword in hand. “WHO ARE YOU AND HOW DID YOU GET IN MY MANSION?!”

Orion looks mildly surprised. Eric slowly lowers his sword as he realizes he’s talking to a mirror.

“Well, he’s pretty,” my husband comments, staring at the image in the mirror.

“I know, right?” Orion brags, putting his hands on his hips.

“Don’t encourage it,” I hiss, glaring at Eric.

“Please, encourage me. It’s been 300 years and I require gratification.” Orion stretches like a cat, yawning.

“Some happily ever after,” I mutter. “Orion, did you say you’d be a ‘useful ally’ if we agreed with you?”

“Almost word for word,” he affirms.

I smirk grimly. “Eric. I think we’ve graduated from Prince and Princess to King and Queen… so how does a little evil sound to you?”

“Kinda what I’m made for,” Orion adds. “Spilling, killing, and thrilling.”

“I could roll with it,” Eric replies nervously.

“Fun!” I chirp. “Why don’t we check in on my old stepmom first?”