"Evil" Queen: Vampire Hunter

Artemisia, newly Queen of Schwarzwald, saw the signs in her step-daughter immediately.

The current beauty trents might tend toward fairness and red lips, but not like this. Skin as white as freshly-fallen snow, without even a pink tinge at the cheeks. One might be tempted to call it a deathly pallor, had the young princess not been witnessed running and laughing like any child might be expected...

The other physical tell was the bright red lips. Red as a rose, as though permanently stained with fresh blood. No human had lips of such a shade naturally, not without the use of paints, and the young princess was not of an age to begin using those.

Artemisia's heart broke at the thought of telling Humbolt the truth about his daughter's nature, but it had to be done, and sooner rather than later. Snow White's powers were already growing. If things continued apace, soon the young princess would be too powerful for anyone to stop.

Just yesterday, she had set a flock of songbirds on a stableboy who had been dealing with a temperamental warhorse and hadn't bowed quickly enough. The poor lad was lucky not to have lost an eye, but he would never have the full use of it again. Worse, he'd been furiously scolded for daring to upset "the poor little princess", in apparent earnestness, rather than the subtle lip service that might have been expected in other circumstances.

For a girl of eight to have such a powerful Thrall already... it could not be allowed to continue.

Humbolt had suspected something wrong with his daughter, as much as it grieved him. He and his first wife had struggled for so many years to have a living child, that when the Queen finally fell pregnant the night he returned from a long absence, he had very carefully not questioned it. He had suspected something wrong when the Queen's strength faded even as the baby grew inside her, when Artemesia's predecessor took her last breath even as Snow White cried her first.

He suspected that his first wife might have consulted with a Benevolent Wise Woman and struck a deal, her life for a living heir to the throne. That she might have been desperate enough to seek out a Witch or Strigoi, introducing a Moroi into the Palace... no heir was worth that, not when Humbolt had nephews to spare through his sisters!

Still, Snow White was his daughter, and sentiment left him vulnerable. Artemisia loved her husband enough that she wouldn't ask him to be a part of killing his daughter. "Go on a pilgrimage," she urged him, "Seek help from the learned Holy Men. By the time you return, I will have the matter dealt with."

Killing a vampire was not an easy task. A stake of wild rose or hawthorn wood must be carved with sigils and soaked in a mixture of holy oil and poppy under the three nights of a full moon, then driven through the vampire's heart. Decapitation or Immolation were other options, but far messier and more noticable ones.

The heart did not necessarily need to be in the vampire's chest at the time of the stake being driven through it. As undead, Vampir might feel a mild discomfort at a missing heart, but it was not fatal to them in the way it might be to a human. Not until the stake was driven through it, anyway.

Fortunately, Vampires had yet to follow the example of the Kaleschei of the Rus, who removed their hearts entirely and hid them somewhere inaccessible. With as difficult as Vampir were to kill, some of Artemesia's Hunter kindred had found success in stunning them while they slept, removing the heart, and getting a respectable distance between them and the Vampire in question before staking the organ. It certainly beat trying to win a straight-up fight against one, certainly.

Yes, that would be the best solution: Isolate the young Moroi from her enthralled, and have her heart retrieved to be staked. The stake was almost ready, tonight being the third night of the full moon. Artemesia summoned the best of her huntsmen to assist her.

The heart of a pig was very similar indeed to a human heart. Almost identical, but there were subtle differences, to those who knew what to look for. The legacy of generations of Vampire Hunters, Artemesia was one such person. One section was tubular, rather than the triangular shape of a human heart, and pigs had an extra vein that humans lacked.

She turned a deadly gaze on her Huntsman, softening slightly when he shook himself like a dog, dazed and confused. Snow White must have used a powerful thrall indeed to have escaped. Artemesia guided him to a chair. "Sit and rest, then tell me everything."

It was a set-back, to be sure, but as Artemesia's training master had told her, the fight is only over when one is dead, not with a temporary defeat.

It proved just how deeply Snow White had enthralled the castle, that a Queen - one acting as Regent in the absence of the King! - could announce that she was travelling to find the missing princess without so much as a guard, and no-one batted an eye or raised objections.

The sooner this problem was disposed of, the better!

Fortunately, the Huntsman had followed the Princess he failed to subdue long enough to know the general direction, and a quick bit of scrying with her magic mirror took care of discovering the fine details.

Snow White had planned her defences well. Seven Dwarves, miners, strong and scrappy and hostile to (normal) humans. A cottage deep in the woods, with no shortage of woodland creatures just waiting to be enthralled.

No matter; Artemesia had come prepared...

A beautiful jewelled comb, prongs sharpened to a needle point, and lacquered with a fast-acting paralytic. Ragged clothing and carefully-applied face paint, to turn her into the kind of elderly peddler woman that Snow White had so loved to prey on. A small illusion of redirection, to stop those who saw her from questioning that Artemesia was anything other than the old woman she appeared.

If Snow White were the innocent child she pretended to be, much less Artemesia's actual child, the Queen would have been appalled at how quickly she trusted, eagerly allowing a perfect stranger inside the dwarves' cottage.

Likely she was starving. Even enthralled, the dwarves would quickly realise that something was wrong if their numbers dwindled or they developed sudden anaemia. In such an isolated part of the woods, Snow White could not have eaten since she arrived.

Artemesia wasted no time, stabbing Snow White with the comb the moment she was within range. The young Moroi fell to the floor, and Artemesia drew the stake out from the bottom of the basket. Dark eyes gazed up at her, hunger and betrayal warring in them, and despite herself, the Queen felt a flash of sorrow.

It was not Snow White's fault that her mother had dallied with darkness, nor could she help what she was born. In a kinder world, perhaps there could have been another solution. In this world, however, there was not.

Artemesia gently brushed a lock of hair out of Snow White's face. "I'm sorry, my child. I wish there was another way, but for the sake of your father and the kingdom, this must be."

Steeling herself, she drove the carefully prepared stake through Snow White's heart.

The effect was immediate. Pale flesh hardened to something near to marble, and the bloodlust that lurked deep within the doe-brown eyes finally faded, replaced by the blankness of a Final Death. At last, it was over.

In the distance, there was the sound of trumpets, and the noise of many people moving through the forest. A trade caravan, or perhaps Humbolt returning! Pray, let it be the latter; the Queen longed for nothing more than to be enfolded in the comfort of her husband's arms.

Artemesia hastily dispelled the illusion and threw off the rags, revealing a fine, but practical dress beneath it, and hurried toward the sound. Not having to walk back to the castle would be a blessing.

Now, at last, life could begin to return to normal...

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