Snow White scraped two fat lines of fairy dust across the ornate mirror.
“I still have trouble sleeping. The idea terrifies me.”
“I know what you mean. Supposing we never wake up again?” said Beauty.
“You would wither on your bones, slowly dying of dehydration and starvation,” said the mirror.
Snow rolled her eyes.
“Nobody asked you.”
Beauty grinned, once porcelain perfect teeth as decayed as her castles and destitute kingdom.
“This’ll keep us awake. Rumpelstilskin always scores the best. Is it pure enough to shoot?”
Snow’s gloved hands rolled a Note of the Realm into a tube.
“You and needles. Don’t you ever learn?”
“I haven’t pricked myself in aeons, you know that. Not since our princes ran off with each other.”
“We should have guessed by the tights.”
“Did you hear about what happened with Cinderella, poor cow? And in her shoes, too..”
Snow wiped her nose on the hem of her dress.
“Life goes on. The only difference between a happy ending and a tragedy is where you stop telling the story.”