Once upon a time, in the early years of the Golden Age, there lived an aged nobleman and his beautiful, headstrong daughter. The nobleman, Count Charming, was a widower and had been since his fragile and ethereal wife had died of a wasting disease when his daughter was only five years old. The daughter, Lady Celeste, was of course very saddened and disconsolate over her loss, but her father lavished every care on her, fulfilling her every desire and whim in an attempt to keep her happy, and so she never wanted for anything.
The two-member family, father and daughter, lived alone along the rugged frontier of the Fourth Kingdom, in a castle built high upon a ridgeline overlooking the Golden River and the bleak, desolate landscape of the Troll Kingdom. By necessity the castle, known as Castle Dur, was gray, grim, and forbidding, for it had been built to withstand a siege by marauding Trolls. In recent years the denizens of Beantown had been forced to relocate their village across the border when beanstalks, giants, and Trolls had engulfed their former lands. As such, Queen Snow White and King Charming had decreed that a bastion must be erected against further incursions onto sovereign territory.
However, the Trolls, it seemed, were content for the nonce with their newest foothold and did not pursue their advantage further. Count Charming kept at the ready a battle-hardened army of mercenaries and royal guards, but more often than not they had little to do except parade about and display their military skill and pride. Lady Celeste thus grew up in terrifying surroundings for a young girl--terrifying and frightfully dull. She took to wandering the dank, torchlit halls of the mountain fastness at an early age, a habit she kept into womanhood, as if she searched for some secret passage that would allow her entry into the bright, warm, exciting world that lay without her home and prison.
Many years passed, until the daughter was close to marriageable age. As a sign of his trust and affection, Count Charming began to allow his only child some freedom, granting her permission to leave the castle and explore the forests that surrounded their home, as long as she always kept at least two guards with her as an escort. She chafed under this restriction, but spoke not a word against it, lest even her small bits of freedom be taken away. Indeed, it was thrilling and heart-warming to be able to travel the forest paths, to watch breathlessly the innocent wildlife, the deer and badger, the owl and pheasant, as they went about their primitive lives. Her escorts rarely spoke a word, and so she had much time to herself, content to remain in her own thoughts--thoughts that often turned to fantasies and dreams of the man she would one day marry, the man who would sweep her off her feet and carry her away to a life of luxury and beauty, in the Charming family tradition.
And then, one day, he became a reality.
Lady Celeste had penetrated deep into the magical acres of the Enchanted Forest one fine summer day. Her escorts, arrogant soldiers who viewed the duty of guarding a spoiled lady as a burden rather than an honor, paid little attention to her, and soon she was able to slip away from their presence and dash off on her own. Unfettered by the restrictions of class and rank, she flung herself into the natural world, catching up the hem of her gown to hurdle gullies and streams, unbinding her buckwheat-honey hair to flow in shimmering cascades down her back, hopping from one stone to another on dainty feet, her onyx eyes darting eagerly about the shadowed boughs of the fragrant woods.
As she came upon a hidden glen, far from prying eyes, she observed a buck grazing in the shelter of a pungent pine, and she froze, watching in awe and pleasure. The animal was large, strong, powerful. He seemed to represent everything she had never had at Castle Dur, an independence...an adamantine will and soul...a true life.
But even as she watched the deer, something startling occurred. Somewhere in the underbrush a rustling began, then a whistling, drawing closer, rising in pitch and loudness. Then something flitted through the air, glinting silver in the light, and unerringly pierced the buck's gallant heart.
Gasping in horror, the Lady Celeste had no time to grieve or rage, for more rustling began in the underbrush, and then a man appeared, an enormous man dressed in furs and leather, a floppy hat shading his eyes, an ebony and silver crossbow clutched in one hand. He knelt over the fallen animal, plucking from its corpse the arrow he had fired, then smiled to himself, twirling the bolt in his fingers. When at last he looked up at her, she was shocked by the power of his gaze, eyes of a brilliant blue filled with emotions of such candor--honesty, humor, insight, compassion, and vitality. When he stood up, she realized how truly masculine he was, tall and broad-shouldered, muscled and handsome--a human counterpart to the buck he had slain.
That memory, however, reminded her poignantly of what he had done. "Who are you?" she demanded. "Why did you kill such a poor, defenseless animal, and why do you act as if you alone have any right to this forest?"
The man's lips curled into a small smile, and he swept his hat from his head to reveal hair as golden as her own, shoulder-length but well-kept, hanging in curls over his chest. "My name is Pietro, Pietro Hunter, and I hunt not for pleasure, but for food. That buck gave his life so that I might live, it is the way of things. The way of the forest. It may seem cruel, but believe me, I do not hunt such magnificent animals unless I must. As to why I act as if I own the forest, it is because I do. It was given to me to oversee by my father, the Huntsman who spared the life of Queen Snow White." He gave her an elegant bow.
Lady Celeste was, to say the least, nonplussed and embarrassed. Here she had been treating this man as if he were one of her servants, when he was actually a lord in his own right! Lord of a forest, to be sure, and not of noble birth, but from a distinguished line nonetheless. And while she still found herself distressed over the death of the deer, she could not help admiring Pietro and his strong physique. There was something about him, some inner quality she could not identify, that made her long to stay near him.
Seeking an excuse to remain, as well as attempting to apologize for her attitude, she said in a mollified tone, "And how is it you were able to target him so precisely, from so far away, milord? Are you that skilled of a huntsman yourself?"
Pietro smiled again, more broadly this time, but he shook his head. "I am skilled, it is true, but I cannot claim the credit when it belongs solely to my weapon." He held up the crossbow for her to examine, turning it so that the silver shone in the light. "This crossbow is magic. When it is fired, the bolt will not fall until it has pierced the heart of a living being. It was a gift to my father from Queen Lydia, Snow White's Wicked Stepmother."
Stunned, the lady gazed in morbid fascination at the wicked-looking sight of the bow, which had been carved into the shape of a hawk's head with eyes of rubies that seemed to glint with a sentient cruelty. In its leather harness were many razor-sharp silvery steel bolts like the one he had plucked from the dead deer and replaced there. "But...but then the magic is evil! How can you use it so?"
The forester again shook his head, this time in disapproval, as he slung the bow back over his shoulder. "Magic is in itself neither good nor evil, milady. I would think you would know that. It all depends on how it is used. It is true Queen Lydia intended it for a dark purpose, but I and my father have blunted that purpose, turned it aside and fashioned it into a beneficent and harmless spell. It is used only in hunting, only in fair sport and game, never to murder the innocent." He sighed, then looked at her inquiringly. "And speaking of the innocent, why is it that you are out here alone in my forest, when a lady of such clearly high station should always be accompanied in hostile surroundings?"
Having the grace to blush, Lady Celeste performed a brief curtsy and shrugged elegantly. "I am a lonely woman, milord. I live alone with my widowed father, and I have rarely been allowed out of my castle. I receive few visitors, I have no friends except for the vapid ladies of the court, and I never have the freedom to simply walk where I will, to see the beauty of nature."
"Until now, you mean." Pietro again smiled, an expression that seemed quite natural and easy to his gentle face, as he spread one arm to gesture expansively at the forest. "Allow me to be your guide, milady, and I will show to you all the delights you have been missing. I promise you will not be disappointed."
Crossing to his side and resting one hand on the hardened muscle of his bare forearm, she could not restrain her own smile as she peered up at him. "I thank you, Lord Hunter. But I am quite certain there is no way I could be disappointed when in your company."
And so had begun a firm and fast friendship. Tentative at first, afraid her father would learn of her secret companion, Celeste would visit the forest and evade her escort only once a week. But as the weeks turned into months, she found she could not stand to be away from Pietro's side for such a duration, and so she began to visit him every other day, then every day. Her initial fear and anger at him had fled almost at once, as she saw not only how cultured and refined he himself was, but also how tender and caring he comported himself with regards to the animals of his forest. No animal was made to suffer. He did not use traps unless they were humane, and all creatures received the utmost attention and service when they were injured or dying. Those he was forced to kill for food or to put them out of their misery had their lives ended quickly and cleanly, and afterward he invariably knelt at their side, communing with their spirits and thanking them for not holding a grudge, he said. Far from a ruthless killer, he was a noble and wise-hearted man.
Their sojourns together took many forms. Always they would rendezvous at the Royal Hunting Lodge in the center of the forest, although they never went inside lest her cousin the king come upon them unawares. From there they took many paths, exploring every inch of the vast forest. At times they would stand on the banks of the Golden River, watching the churning foam and torrential floodwaters descending from the mountains of the Third Kingdom to flow ever northward, and she would cling to his arm as if she stood on a precipice, feeling the cold spray splash welcomingly on her face. At other times they would visit the camps of the Gypsies, sampling their exotic cuisine, listening to the strains of folk music and watching the intricate dances as they laughed and sang. There she learned that the Gypsies were not the vagrant thieves everyone believed them to be. True, they did steal on occasion when it was warranted, but they were so much more than this, having a culture and history all their own. She also indulged in their mystical pastime of fortunetelling, mostly for entertainment and to humor them, as she did not believe in such idle nonsense. Once, however, the Queen of a clan read her future with the strange cards known as Tarot, and declared that she would find her destiny within her own reflection. She had started to laugh, but the look of utter seriousness on the Queen's face had silenced her.
As the months passed, as Celeste and Pietro wandered over the length and breadth of the forest, peering into fox dens, entering secret caves behind waterfalls, penetrating the most overgrown thickets and thorny underbrush to find warm, concealed hideaways, as he took her to his village and then to all of the places in the forest he found most pleasing to the eye, the ones that were special to him--as all of this occurred, the inevitable happened. They began to fall in love. And one day, when Pietro had taken her to his private retreat, a hollow tree that had been magically shaped to hold a cozy and undetectable home, their love took a physical form. As they stood at the window, gazing out over the leagues and leagues of woodland, the treetops rising from the morning mist into the azure sky and golden sun, they had held onto one another silently, arms around each others' shoulders. And then Lady Celeste had turned to him, and without any inhibition or hesitation, she had kissed him--fervently, passionately.
After that, it had been a foregone conclusion that they would wed, at least as far as she was concerned. It took several more weeks, after matters had progressed to greater levels of intimacy, before Pietro worked up the nerve to ask for her hand in marriage. She had, of course, instantly agreed. After celebrating in his village and being welcomed into the family by his matronly, sentimental mother, Celeste had returned home to Castle Dur, floating on air, no longer seeing the drab walls and cruel battlements, only the life and magic of the forest and Pietro's handsome face. She had gone to sleep with him in her mind and awoken the same way.
Tragedy struck the following morning, however. Upon descending to the dining hall to have breakfast with her father, Lady Celeste learned something that filled her with outrage, despair, and horror--unbeknownst to her, during all of her wondrous, enchanting months with Pietro, Count Charming had been carefully arranging diplomatic envoys to the estate of Baron Rubicon in the Second Kingdom. And now, after many months of finagling and dealmaking, a bargain had been struck, and the end result was that she was now betrothed to the baron!
Confronting her father at once, Celeste wept and screamed, begged and argued, but all to no avail. Her father was determined that the treaty her marriage forged would not be abrogated. He was also determined that she would have a grand future long after he was gone, and this seemed to him the most likely way to achieve and ensure it. At this point, Celeste revealed to him her secret--that she was already deeply in love with Pietro, and had agreed to marry him. Her father had been furious, for although the Hunter line was well-respected and not lacking in wealth, it would be seen as a step down from the barony, a settling for something lower and weaker. And in any case the contract had already been written and signed, and he would not go back on his word to Rubicon.
Throwing a temper tantrum, Celeste demanded he release her from her obligation, but instead Count Charming imprisoned his daughter within her chambers--for her own good, he said. There she moped and cried, refusing to eat, refusing to sleep, doing nothing but sitting or lying listlessly as she felt her future being ripped away from her. Her ladies-in-waiting and maidservants sympathized deeply with her, but there was only so much they could do, and none of it involved releasing her or even sending a message to Pietro to apprise him of the situation.
As it turned out, that was not necessary. One day a week and a half later, when the leaves were falling from the mountain ash and the land wore its cloak of scarlet and gold, its beauty and pristine nature lost on her shriveling heart, a bird appeared at her embrasure--not just any bird, but one of the magic birds that dwelt in the Enchanted Forest and served from time to time as messengers for Pietro. As soon as the bird finished delivering its inquiry as to her health and the reason for her absence, she leapt at once at the chance, spilling the entire awful affair and urging the bird to fly as fast as he could to Pietro, so that her fiance could rescue her from her terrible fate.
The bird did as she asked, and returned again a few days later with only a brief message: "Wait and be patient; I have a plan, and we will be together." So she bided her time, hoping and praying. To throw her father off the track, she pretended to accept the situation, apologizing to him and putting on a brave face. Delighted, the count relaxed some of the strictures on her, allowing her free rein of the castle again, although she still could not leave its walls. She returned to her earlier haunts, wandering the halls, not only to make the hours pass faster but to avoid the growing collection of wedding gifts that arrived daily to fill her chambers with gaudy reminders of what lay in store for her at the manor of the baron.
After another few days, however, something compelled her to remain in her room when the next gift arrived. And so, bedecked in all of her jewels and dressed in her finest gown, she sat, demure and coquettish, as the next sycophant arrived with a present from somewhere in the Nine Kingdoms. Whatever it was, it was quite large, taller even than her father, rectangular in shape, but it was sheeted so she could not imagine what it was. The accompanying dignitary was a Dwarf, to her surprise, come all the way from Dragon Mountain to bring her the gift of the Governor himself. When it was unveiled, she was surprised and flattered in spite of herself by the magnitude and honor of the gift--it was a mirror, from the mines of the Ninth Kingdom. As she gazed at its ornate, golden frame etched and carved with Dwarven runes, she could not suppress a shudder, as for some inexplicable reason the mirror filled her with a sense of great portent.
What truly affected her, however, was that the mirror was also accompanied by a letter from her deceased mother, a letter that had been kept by the Governor for all these years, lying in trust until the day of her wedding. It was the standard letter of a noble mother to her daughter, wishing her well on her new married life, reminding her that while she might not always have the future she would choose for herself, destiny had a way of rewarding those who followed its laws, and that ultimately she would be happy. What caught her eye was the portion of the letter describing the mirror. After mentioning that the mirror had been made centuries ago, her mother's graceful handwriting expressed one mysterious wish: "May it open many doors for you, my sweet child."
Celeste had no idea what that meant, and she promptly brushed it aside, thanking the Dwarf and ordering her servants to hang the mirror in her boudoir.
Days passed. The impending marriage began to weigh on her mind, and she fretted and worried and paced about anxiously, waiting for some further word from Pietro, even a clue as to what his plan would be and when it would take place. Then, the night before she was to leave for the Second Kingdom, she was sitting alone in her boudoir, once more crying piteously into her lace handkerchief, when a strange glow caught her eye. Turning, she saw that the mirror was shimmering, ever so faintly, in the moonlight, and that one portion of its carved frame shone brighter than the rest, a round, wheel-like ornament on the lefthand side. Curious in spite of her grief, she found herself rising and reaching out to turn the catch.
To her utter shock and amazement, her stunned reflection vanished behind an argent rush of light that blazed out from the glass. Images rippled and danced across the mirror as if it had become a sea of waves, and then they began to clear, forming some semblance of order. First she saw, as from a great distance, an island in a harbor, completely covered by a vast city. Although it was only slightly more opulent that the capital of the Fourth Kingdom, Celeste could not hold back her gasp at all the rich and beautiful mansions, the tall and exquisite buildings, the wide, tree-lined avenues, and the mixture of horse-drawn carriages and strange wheeled contraptions ridden about. There were people everywhere, so many she could not believe it. And then the image receded somewhat, and she found herself gazing out of the branches of a grove of trees in a virgin forest, somewhere in close relation to the city. Men in expensive-looking suits and cylindrical hats escorted ladies in rich dresses carrying parasols as they walked along paths in what looked like some sort of natural preserve.
After staring in awe at the images for at least half an hour, Celeste sat down heavily in her chair and began to realize the enormity of what was taking place. Now she understood what her mother's message had meant, and the Gypsy Queen's prophecy--this was one of the great Traveling mirrors, fashioned centuries ago by Royal Dwarves for a king whose name had been lost to the dim obscurity of the past. One such mirror, it had been said, was owned by Queen Lydia. The other was periodically passed from one monarch of the Kingdoms to another; it currently resided in the Ice Palace of the Eighth Kingdom. This one had always remained in the mirror mines, until now. And it led to another dimension--where, no one knew.
This was how she could escape her fate! She and Pietro, together, could flee to this mysterious and strangely compelling realm, and make a life there!
It was difficult, even after she closed the portal, to lie down and sleep after that, but she managed it, for she knew she would need her sleep the next day. For she was certain that the next day, before she was forced to leave, was when Pietro would arrive to rescue her and they could use the mirror. And she was not mistaken. The next morning, after breakfast, Count Charming and his honor guard escorted her to the main courtyard of the castle, where the carriage awaited them. But before anyone could enter it, there came a flurry of cries and screams from the gatehouse, and then all was silent. Her father ordered the guards to check and see what was amiss, but they were all too paralyzed with fear to comply. He was about to check himself when a lone figure appeared on the drawbridge, blocking the way to the winding ledge that led down from the mountains.
Celeste's heart leapt to her throat as she recognized the stride and silhouette of her beloved Pietro. But as he drew closer she froze, stunned by the brittleness of his features, the inexorability of his steps, the whiteness of his knuckles as he gripped the stock of his crossbow. She had never seen him like this before, so filled with anger and fury and contempt, almost inhuman. In his free hand she saw he held a collection of his bolts, all of their tips stained with the scarlet of blood. She realized he must have killed all of the guards on watch at the gates...
Even as she attempted to wrap her mind around such an alien concept, Pietro reached the carriage and glared at her father, and the coldness of his blue eyes frightened her anew. "Let her go," he said, simply and emotionlessly.
Count Charming tried his usual blustering demeanor. "Who are you, and how dare you assault my castle in this unseemly manner? I shall have your head for this--at the very least my nephew the king will make certain you never see the light of day unless it is through the bars of your prison cell!" "I am the Huntsman," Pietro replied, again in that agonizingly quiet and terrifying tone. "I am the one your daughter has consented to marry, and neither you, nor any of your guards, nor that pampered baron, shall stand in my way."
"And why not?" Her father rose to his full height, staring down his aquiline nose. For answer Pietro lifted his crossbow and pointed it unswervingly at her father's heart. "Because if you do, I will kill you. And my bow is magic...it cannot miss."
Celeste's gasp of horror was louder even than those of the soldiers. Heedless of her father's warning, she ran from his side to Pietro, her heart pounding against her ribcage. But as she reached him, he only flicked his eyes to hers for a second before returning them to her father. "Move away, Celeste. I don't wish for you to be the one who receives the bolt instead of the count." "Pietro!" She cried his name like a spell to ward away evil. "How can you do this? Don't you remember what you told me? The bow, you have turned its magic to good...but if you do this, if you murder in cold blood, it will become evil once again! And so will you...please, do not do this! I beg of you!" She grasped his fur jacket and shook him.
A momentary doubt and guilt passed across his face, but then he became like granite once more. "That is a small price to pay for your freedom, and our love together. And there is a time and place for everything...even murder. He would deprive you of your heart...so I shall deprive him of his." His finger tightened on the bow's trigger.
Eyes wide, Celeste shook him again, throwing off his aim so that he had to relent. "Are you even listening to yourself, my love? This is not you speaking to me, it is the crossbow! Resist it, Pietro, resist it! You simply cannot kill him, he is my father and I love him!" She began to cry bitterly. "And...and there is no need..." She lowered her voice to a broken whisper. "We can escape...we can flee this place together..."
Pietro, who had been frowning at her like a thundercloud, now blinked in confusion. "What is this? What do you mean?"
Softly, so her father could not hear, she explained about the magic Traveling mirror in her bedchamber. But when she had finished, the expected look of relief and happiness did not appear on her lover's face. Instead Pietro looked forlorn, offended, and incredulous. "Celeste...I...your heart is in the right place, my love, but it would never work. Your father would prevent us, or he would follow us. In any case...I cannot leave these lands, my forest, my animals, my life. I want us to live together here, or not at all. I could never survive in a city like that of which you speak. Please, let me do this. We have no choice...but then we can be together, for always." Tenderly he stroked her cheek with his free hand, as the soldiers and her father watched in a frozen tableau, none moving an inch for fear he would shoot them dead where they stood.
Breathlessly, unbelievingly, she took a step back from him. "This was your plan?" she whispered. "All along? I thought I knew you...I thought you were a good man."
Pietro flinched as if slapped. "But I am a good man...and if this act makes you believe I am not, then I shall spend the rest of our lives proving that I am! Just this one choice, my love, this one death, and we shall be free! Please..." Now tears began to appear in his eyes.
Celeste stared at him, shaking her head. "You cannot ask that of me. You cannot." Slowly she backed away from him, sidling over until she stood between him and Count Charming. "I will not allow this. If you kill him, you will have to kill me first."
Again a collective gasp ran through the courtyard, the loudest being Pietro's. "You would give your life...for the one who would ruin yours?" he asked slowly.
Agony blossomed in Celeste's heart, but she nodded weakly. "I hate what he does to me, to us, I hate his choices and his beliefs, but I cannot and never shall hate him. He is my father, he gave me life. He is all I have left, besides you. I would never trade either of you for the other. Do not make me choose, Pietro. I would die inside either way."
After a long, long moment, Pietro nodded and began to lower the crossbow. "Very well...I shall not kill him. Come here, my love."
The joy she felt in that moment eclipsed any she had felt before, and with a wordless cry she ran to her love. But even as she embraced him tightly and felt his free arm come up around her, she also felt the coldness of the ebony crossbow as it pressed against her other side. Confused and dismayed, she twisted and saw he had raised the weapon again, behind her back, and aimed it once more at her father. "What...Pietro, how...how could you betray me...?"
Before she could say more, she heard the release of the bowstring, and instinctively she flung one arm at the bow, knocking it aside. The shrieking whistle of the arrow filled her ears, the panicking screams of the guards, Pietro's snarl of anger, and then it was over as she heard the thunk of the bolt. Desperate to see, and yet not to see, she whirled and saw to her relief that her father still stood alive, although his face was a ghastly white. Instead the arrow protruded from the breast of a peacock lying on the cold stones of the courtyard, its grand tail broken and tattered--one of her gifts for the wedding, waiting to be taken onto the carriage.
Turning back to face her fiance, she blanched. The absolutely merciless look on his face made her heart plummet. There was no emotion in those eyes now, they were cold and frigid as the glaciers of the north. Certainly no love or tenderness could be found there. "You..." he hissed. "You spared his life, even though it means we cannot be together. I see now your true feelings. You never loved me...or if you did, you loved him more."
"No!" she protested. "No, that's not it at all! You must understand..."
"Oh, I understand," he said softly. "I understand perfectly well." Slinging the crossbow back over his shoulder, he turned and strode toward the drawbridge.
Blinking in confusion, her fury with him transforming into longing and need, she began to stumble after him, tripping on her gown. "Pietro, no, wait! Please, take me with you, we can be together now..."
He paused in the middle of the drawbridge and looked back at her, regret and sadness and emptiness etched into his weathered face. "No, no I don't think so. I rather think we shall never see each other again." And with that, he turned and disappeared over the bridge.
She watched him go, watched him walk around the ledge, down from the mountain, disappearing into the forest, and every step of the way a piece of her heart went with him. Finally, when he was gone, she shivered, her hands clenching and unclenching, until she felt a hand on her shoulder. Wheeling about, she stared into the sympathetic and kind eyes of her father.
"I'm sorry, my dear," he began. "I truly am..."
"Get away from me!" she snapped.
Falling silent, he stepped back a pace. "But..."
"I said get away from me!" Her hands lifted, nails brandished like claws in her rage, and he stepped back again. Then with a wail of anguish, she pushed past him and fled back into the castle.
After several hours of weeping, she heard Count Charming knock at her door, asking gently if he could come in. She refused him entrance, and the door was locked. She told him bitterly that she would clean her face, restore her makeup, and then she would descend to the carriage to meet Baron Rubicon. Surprised and worried, the count did not object, only asking if she needed anything. Inside Celeste laughed mirthlessly, thinking that what she truly needed was Pietro, and that now, only now when she had lost him forever, did her father finally ask her what she wanted, what she needed. She asked for her maid and waited until he left, and then she turned on the Traveling mirror...
Hours later, she still had not emerged, nor had the maid, so the count went and found the spare key to the bedchamber. Upon opening the door, he found the room empty except for the maid, who sat crying in a chair near the mirror the Dwarves had given his daughter.
"Where is she?" he demanded imperiously. "Where is my daughter?"
"Gone," the maid whimpered. "Gone to a realm where you will never find her." She pointed vaguely in the direction of the mirror.
Confused and upset, the count questioned her more vigorously and eventually discovered the truth--that the mirror he had thought a simple, if priceless, antique was in truth a doorway to another world. That his daughter, rather than live without her true love or marry a man she did not know, had fled the Nine Kingdoms forever through that mirror, and that the maid had shut it off behind her so that no one could follow. He knew he could compel the secret of the portal from the maid, but he was a kindly man and refused to use torture as the Trolls did to get his way. He also knew he could prevail upon the Dwarves to tell him the secret. But even if they relented and revealed such a closely guarded magic, he and his men could never find his daughter. The maid had described for him the immense city viewed through the mirror, and his heart sank at the thought of searching such a vast habitation. He knew he had lost his daughter forever. And he could not even take revenge by smashing the glass, for that would destroy any chance of her ever returning, as well as granting him seven years' bad luck and the enmity of the Dwarves.
There was one other way he could have revenge, however--to make good his threat on the Huntsman. So he ordered his men to search the Enchanted Forest for the murderer and criminal Pietro, to never rest until they found him. Months passed, autumn quickly fading into intense cold as the search continued fruitlessly, for Pietro knew the forest far better than his men, and could hide in it for years if need be. And there was no help from the locals; his village of course was protecting him, and his Gypsy friends refused to use their magic to locate him.
Finally, one day early in winter, when the snow fell in thick flurries and blizzards to seal away the castle from the world and turned the forest into a barren, lifeless place, Pietro was found--but again, revenge was denied the Count Charming. The Huntsman was found sprawled on the steps of the Royal Hunting Lodge, dead, killed by his own bolt, fired by his own hand. There was no suicide note with him, only one small scrap of parchment that read, "One day I shall have my revenge on the House of Charming."
Broken and filled with bitterness, the count had the crossbow sent to Castle White, where it was locked away so that none might ever use its hateful magic again. There it would remain for many years, until Queen Christine, second wife of Snow White's son Whitney, would secretly remove it and once more offer it as a gift to a Huntsman...Pietro's grand-nephew.
Count Charming also declared that the forest would hereafter be known as the Disenchanted Forest, both due to the death of its magical protector and to discourage travel. The Gypsies were outcast for their part in helping to hide Pietro, and would ever after be even more hated and distrusted in the Kingdoms.
In the mysterious world on the other side of the Traveling mirror, Celeste, a lady no more, was found wandering, alone and starving, in Central Park by a young up-and-coming businessman. Normally arrogant and self-centered, he felt his heart go out to this poor, lost girl and took her into his home. Because she was so reticent about her past and never mentioned anything about where she came from or who she was, he took to calling her "Mary Celeste" after the jinxed ship, since she seemed to have had no good fortune in her life. He grew quite fond of her, and one thing led to another, until at the gala New Year's Eve party at the Ebersole mansion in 1888, he asked her to marry him. She agreed, and so she became Mrs. Geoffrey Lewis.
Only a few months after his daughter's disappearance, Count Charming died. His family sadly cleared Castle Dur of its furnishings and possessions, taking whatever they wished for their own manors and castles, until nothing was left but useless junk, which they stored in the ancient cellar. After much debating and dithering, it was decided that the castle should be donated to the House of White as a prison for the Fourth Kingdom's worst criminals, since the royal guard now did such an excellent job at guarding the border of the Troll Kingdom that a garrison was no longer needed at the fortress.
Among the many abandoned furnishings and trappings of richness that were stored in the cellar and allowed to rot and collect dust was the ill-fated Traveling mirror. Alone and forgotten, it remained hidden among the stacks of paintings and bedsteads, curtains and chests, even the count's blue-and-white carriage that never took the trip to Baron Rubicon's estate. Its frame became grimy and blackened, its glass became coated with dirt and tarnish, but its magic remained strong and unchanging, waiting beneath the chambers that had once housed royalty but now only housed prisoners, waiting for the day when destiny would activate it once again, when the descendants of Celeste, Pietro, and Count Charming's nephew would have need of it.
But that is another story for another time, a story of the mythical Tenth Kingdom.
