“Yes, a person can go into the stories if they want to—”
“And they can change them,” Bunny finished for Sabrina. “The nature of the book allows you to change the story the way you wish it would have happened. And if the change sticks—if the Editor doesn’t change it back—it becomes history, and the changes affect the real people those stories are based upon. It even changes how the world remembers the story. In order to save my daughter, I changed her story.”
“What does that have to do with us and that lunatic who killed Seven?” Charming asked.
“The world knows Snow’s story as Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, but the original tale was called The Murderous Blood Prince.”
Snow gasped. “I assume that didn’t have a happy ending.”
“How did you fix it, Bunny?” Charming asked. His voice was stern and furious.
“I erased Atticus from the story—entirely.”
“Well, erased isn’t the right word,” Sabrina said. “More like edited.”
“Yes, that’s right. I rewrote him—or at least I tried. I went through his story and tried to write events that would destroy the evil in him and make him a hero instead, but nothing I did worked. I wrote a mentor into the story that he could learn great things from, but he slit the man’s throat. I gave him a loving fairy godmother who looked after him, and he pulled her wings off and threw her into a fire. Nothing I did could change the darkness inside him and nothing I did stopped him from murdering my daughter, so I did what writers call a page-one rewrite. I got rid of the original story and started over.”
“Well, if you got rid of him, then who was that man out there?” Charming demanded.
“Billy, please calm down,” Snow said.
“I will not calm down. My best friend was just murdered and your mother has something to do with it. Haven’t you brought enough pain on us, Bunny? First the poisoned apples and now this!”
“I deserve some of your condemnation, but I ask you to just let me finish before you throw any more insults at me.”
Charming snarled and roughly sank back into his chair.
“So I started my daughter’s story all over again, but even that was difficult. What happened to Snow with Atticus was so intense that echoes of it invaded the new story. I tried a variety of approaches. I wrote a version with your sister, Rose, where you spent the entire story dancing on flowers. I gave you a kingdom made of starlight. I even tried to make it simple and have you be a maiden on a sea voyage. But each change I made still ended in tragedy. No matter what I did, the book would not allow it to work. Each time, something horrible and unexpected would happen to you. It was as if the book were demanding that you experience pain. And then I realized what you needed was a defender—someone to rescue you from these problems—so I took Atticus’s brother, William, and made him into a proper suitor for my daughter.”
“Made me?” Charming said.
“Yes. I had to edit you, as well. You weren’t what anyone would call princely at the time,” Bunny said.
Charming looked at her incredulously.
“Actually, you were a bit of a playboy, and you had a tendency to spend too much money and drink a little too much wine, but you had a good heart. You were someone I could work with. So with a few simple words, I wrote you into the story and made you into a dashing hero on a white horse. I wrote you so that you were regal and dignified, romantic and strong. I turned you into the perfect man for my daughter, and yet that was still not enough. Tragedy happened again and again and again until I figured out what the problem was—Atticus was still in the story—no more than a hint, an echo—but he was there, hovering in the margins, subtly influencing the outcome.
“And the answer came to me as clear as day. The story demanded a villain. It wanted something to replace Atticus. I don’t pretend to understand how it works. I just know that’s what it needed. But I needed a villain I could control—someone who wasn’t bent on killing my daughter—so I did what any mother who loved her child would do to save her life. I wrote myself into the book as the Wicked Queen. As the story’s dark enchantress, I could manage the tragedy and control the pain. And it worked! The book was satisfied—even when my inventions were ridiculous. I mean, what kind of witch gets upset because her daughter is better looking? And that ridiculous poisoned apple—ha! Putting you to sleep so that you could be woken by a handsome prince and live happily ever after—how diabolical! But it didn’t matter. The story had its villain, its dashing hero, and a main character that experienced tragedy, and I thought the horror of Atticus Charming was behind us.”
“Except you lost your daughter,” Snow said. “I have hated you for hundreds of years.”
Bunny nodded. “A small price to pay to keep you safe.”