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Mirror mirror on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all?

Kris knows the answer will always be the same, for he himself is the fairest. As if in response to his thoughts, the mirror hums gently, and makes a contented purring sound. Still, he can’t help but ask every day, because he knows the day will come when the answer will change.

So the day his face is replaced by another’s, he slams his hand into the mirror, erasing the likeness of a beautiful young boy, all dark hair and dark eyes and a certain mysteriousness about him. When he lifts his palm, a scarlet handprint adorns the looking glass, and Kris swears revenge in the ashen grey walls of the mirror wall to the one who has taken away what should be his right.

As he watches, the handprint drips color down until the whole image has dissolved, and then the mirror shivers and swings open to reveal a doorway, wreathed in shadows and etched with silver vines. Kris dons a black cloak and strides grimly in, for he knows it will take him to the one he seeks, and he means to wrest his title back with a knife in the heart, or perhaps a poison here and there.

He certainly doesn’t intend to fall in love - but that’s a story best saved for another day.

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