But Margaret’s body was stronger and the loud wailing of the child that she had birthed told her that her suffering was done.
Relieved that she had succeeded, she allowed her sweaty head to rest on the mattress. Her breathing was still heavy, but at least now her body could recover from the terrible pressure that had previously tormented it. Her sore muscles and her eyes burning from the sweat that dripped down her eyebrows finally found their salvation.
The voice of her prince spoke directly into her mind. “It’s a girl. You have given me a girl.”
For a moment Margaret was truly happy. She had given him the child he wanted from her and now the terrible labor was done. They could be a family now and live their wonderful lives together in their private little forest.
Then the pain inside of her roared up again and terror once more mastered her mind.
She would birth two more daughters for her prince that long, dark day.
(September 17, 1824)
Men thought she was the prettiest.
Her mother had explained to her and her sisters that men were simple and vile creatures and that their idea of beauty was very limited.
That was why men thought she was the prettiest. Because she was the tallest, and her breasts were the biggest, and her blonde hair curled freely as the golden frame for her dark blue eyes.
Her sisters looked different from her. One had fiery red hair that she refused to cut; it now almost ran to her ankles. The other had short black hair and she refused to let it grow out any further.
They didn’t have names, she and her sisters. Her mother had told them that naming the children was a father’s privilege and that, sadly, he had abandoned them shortly after birth.
Her mother’s voice always went soft and bitter whenever she spoke of their father, something she rarely did.
The girls had named themselves, in a way, to at least be able to distinguish between each other. Black, Red, and Gold. Of course, their mother referred to them simply as ‘girl’ and let their understanding of the context do the rest. In time they had gotten quite good at understanding exactly which girl their mother meant.
Gold shared a bedroom with her two sisters but they were out right now, either gathering in the woods or stealing from the town nearby, so she was free to study her appearance in the mirror Black had stolen years ago. It hung eye-level from her and was just big enough for Gold to see her own chest. She studied her naked body as she traced the muscles gracing her belly.
Gold was naturally endowed with well-defined muscles and had never worked for them. Something Black, who had gained her muscles from years of hunting, silently resented her for. The jealousy of her sisters was something Gold both dreaded and enjoyed.
Her sisters complained from time to time that the mirror hung too high for them to properly see themselves, but it was Gold that had a job to do that involved how she looked. It was only natural that the position of the mirror suited her needs.
She still had some time before the sun set and darkness covered their small home in the woods. Their mother had told Gold once that they lived here to escape the cruelty of the civilized world. A world where pretty girls, like herself, were never safe and served only as instruments to fulfill the uncontrollable lust of men.
Men were disgusting creatures. That was why Gold didn’t mind her job.
She reached for the stolen dress draped over her mattress and held the soft fabric against her sensitive skin. Gold liked how the sensation hardened her nipples and sparked a warm feeling in her groin. A strange feeling that she instinctively kept to herself. Sometimes she would run her fingers down there and force the warmth to escalate into an even deeper sensation. One that shook her body and forced slight panting from her lips.
But not today. Gold told herself that she had to focus today. She had a job to do, and if she failed at it, her sisters wouldn’t let her hear the end of it for days. Red in particular would give her a hard time about it, with her strange sense of humor that bordered on the aggressive.
And if she failed, her mother would not love her and that was the worst punishment there was. To not be loved.
Gold slipped on the dress and gave herself an appraising look in the mirror. She quickly brushed her hands through her hair, which fell naturally around her face. Her appearance truly was effortless and Gold had long since stopped wondering why she was blessed in such a way.
All of them were blessed in some way.
Black was strong and agile, and could kill anything she set her mind to. She took great pleasure in hunting and never failed to provide the family with fresh meat.
Red was deeply intelligent and intuitive. She had learned early all the secrets of the forest and knew exactly which plants were poisonous and which made the best herbs. Whenever Black got injured in the woods, Red treated her sister with one of her own recipes and the wound would heal in no time.
And Gold was beautiful. At least, her mother said that men thought so, and what was beauty if not a reflection in the eyes of those that witnessed it?
She sat down on her bed and closed her eyes, something she often did before departing for her work. It helped her focus. Helped her reflect. She would listen to the beat of her heart and allow the sound to mix with her early evening’s surroundings. In this way she hypnotized herself into a beautiful serenity, becoming one with the singing of the birds and the rustling of the leaves.
Rest.
…
Calm.
…
Peace.
…
All of this in the darkness thrown by her own eyelids.
And then, finally, focus.
…
…
…
The return of her sisters called Gold back from her meditation and she opened her eyes. The darkness had almost arrived.
Gold walked outside and found her mother inspecting the loot Red and Black had brought back with them. She seemed particularly pleased with the young deer Black still had draped over her strong shoulders.
Gold smiled as she said, “I will be off, then.”
Red replied with understated mockery in her tone. “Don’t work too hard now!”
Black simply raised her bloodstained hand as she said, “Be careful.”
Her mother said nothing, only nodded approvingly and then turned her attention to Red’s basket, which was filled with mushrooms and plants Gold didn’t recognize.
Gold started off along a sandy trail that had been formed by her own feet and those of her sisters. If she followed it straight ahead it would lead to their sacred place, where they would sometimes all gather to sing and dance around a carefully built fire.
This evening, however, she took a sharp right halfway through her journey and cut through the thick bushes that framed the sandy trail. They never wounded her. Where her sisters, Black in particular, would frequently come home with cuts on their bodies and thorns in their sides, Gold was forever untouched by the thick greenery that extended as far as the eye could see.
Perhaps the forest did not want to scar her exquisite beauty.
Perhaps the forest did not think that she was strong enough to take its usual punishment.
The darker it got, the harder it became for Gold to know where she was going. When the remainder of the dying sun drowned behind a dark cloud, she became nearly blind. With her hands as her only guides, she pushed through the heavy vegetation, led by instinct more than by insight. Her inner compass was strong and it reminded her of how often she had already made this journey. She was made for this job. Born for this job. All that she was and all that she had been given served only this one, singular purpose. The forest would never allow her to get lost. It would open up for her the same way the arms of men did and cherish her and show her the way. If necessary, Gold believed, the forest would push her forward when she no longer had the strength to walk.