Snow White's Multiverse

Since its inception, Disney has been considered the "ugly duckling" of the entertainment industry and innovation. However, thanks to the desire to make the imaginary possible, it became a golden duckling. And when such assets are in your hands, you need to build them the strongest nest possible, and to ensure they stay in place without any connection to art, it's best to add at least seven pillars of support. Like any self-important corporation, Disney claims it built it from scratch, disregarding all those who made it what it is today.

Just like the famous name tags (which were changed without regard for copyright) of the seven dwarfs, whose names weren’t officially assigned when the story was brought to Broadway in 1912, the original names were Blik, Flick, Glick, Snik, Flick, Wick, and Ki. This change was just the roof of a structure that had its foundations laid as early as 1812, when the "happy midwife" was actually the evil queen.

And since she had such a beautiful house, she did what anyone with such a luxury would do: she sent a huntsman to kill and bring back the organs of the child as proof. But because she still had a small drop of compassion, she ordered the huntsman to carry out the deed in a remote forest, using a delicate method of painless stabbing. Later, the huntsman, seemingly having done the job, brought back the organs of a slaughtered animal, which the queen ate, thinking they were those of her daughter.

As with many children's stories of that time, this one ended with the iconic moment of the glass coffin being taken to the prince's palace as a "package" for fulfilling desires, until one of the servants, likely the one who regularly served as the coffin’s wheel, woke up and opened it. The servant struck the modern maiden until the apple lodged in her throat was dislodged, and she awoke.

Since this story became a cultural phenomenon, it was only a matter of time before remakes emerged, with major changes, such as background characters and methods of killing. Why let it be remembered when you can squeeze more out of it?

Like any attempt to reboot a classic, the depictions of death in these remakes were about as effective as the notion that something could change—like an overly tight corset or a ruthless stabbing with a poisoned comb. These attempts, which showed no real reason to change, ended with just one version: the original. Every other version ended with a royal dance marathon with iron shoes for twirling.

This story, which had already become a cult hit, led to many versions created over time, especially in countries across the sea. These innovations weren’t afraid to take creative liberties. One version had the main character named "Armelina," who escaped her home riding on an eagle that took her to a castle inhabited by fairies. Another version, the Italian one, cast a group of wicked step-sisters in the villainous role.

In this version, creativity ran wild, and the main character’s name was changed to something much catchier—"Ziricochel." She chose one of them and found refuge in the moon. Due to the number of actors, the moon also played the role of the magical mirror. As a result, the prince's sisters did the only logical thing—they hired an astrologer to kill her.

After several failed attempts, for reasons that remain unclear, they turned her into a statue using a shirt that was undoubtedly enchanted. However, since this is a family story, it ended with the prince's sisters bringing her back to life by removing the shirt. This solution was considered quite interesting compared to other bizarre resolutions in fairy tales. As strange as they were, these fairy tales still had a kernel of truth.

Over time, academic studies have pointed out that this story might indeed have some historical roots. For example, research into the figure of Countess Margaretha von Waldeck suggests that her life may have closely mirrored the story's elements. The countess, much like the fairy tale, was renowned for her extraordinary beauty.

She was reportedly the lover of Philip II of Spain, who was sent by his strict father and stepmother to the home of his aunt. According to Renaissance-era historians, Margaretha’s tragic story intertwined with the Spanish royal family, but the relationship failed due to religious differences. Philip was Catholic, and Margaretha was Lutheran. Letters written by Margaretha’s father described her declining health, and it is believed that she was poisoned—possibly in the same way as described in the fairy tale. She died at the age of 21 in 1554.

Interestingly, Margaretha’s father owned a series of copper mines, and most of the workers were children. These children, who worked under harsh and dangerous conditions, were reportedly known as "poor dwarfs." Could these be the same dwarfs from the fairy tale? Just like the dwarfs in the story, these children lived in small groups, often sharing a single room. The mining village, Bergfreiheit, is now known as "Schneewittchendorf" (Snow White Village), and this historical connection raises questions about whether these "dwarfs" were based on real-life children working in mines.

Like all fairy tales, this one blends elements of history with mythical figures and events. Over time, these stories have become part of our cultural fabric, with new versions emerging. However, beneath the fantastical elements, there remains a sliver of historical truth—connecting folklore with real events that shaped the stories we tell today.