Lips like blood, hair the color of the darkest ravens, skin so pale you'd think she'd never been in the sun, this was Snow White. A fair girl for her age with a heart shaped mouth and curving figure, she would have been found quite the catch if she hadn't been locked up in the castle so often. She often lazed around the castle, looking for something new, something she'd never seen before. But that was a rare occasion. The library was her favorite. So many books, it was the one place she went where she never felt like she'd seen everything. The creaks of opening a freshly creased novel, the smell of the pages, stained with cloves and tea, she loved it all.

Snow White walked through the halls, her hands brushing her skirts. Tight gloves covered every inch of her hand, restricting the havoc inside. Tendrils of ice curled around the leather, spreading her finger tips, dying to escape, to be set free. "Snow White." Queen Grimhilde said in a cool monotone way. Her lips were tightly pursed, unfortunate creases protruding from her mouth. "Yes?" Snow White asked. "That's no way to address me you silly girl!" Queen Grimhilde growled. Snow White bowed her head, shiny black curls falling over her head.

The Queen walked past the insolent child, and straight into her private quarters. An oval ornate mirror lay on the wall, glistening like a deadly jewel, out of its place. The Queen waltzed away from the mirror, telling herself not. But the mirror taunted her. Its glass reflecting herself. Showing her long glistening hair, the curve of her breast, the smoothness of her skin, glowing like moonlight. Then the mirror glinted. The Queen stood in cold sweat, a hag staring back at her in the mirror. Then, like a flash, it was gone. Back to her beautiful image, staring back at her. "Mirror mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?" The Queen asked, her patience at an end, her nerves shot. "My Queen, you are the fairest in the land." The mirror replied, in an unsettling fashion. The Queen smiled, her lips opening to reveal white pearly teeth that would send shivers through the kingdom.

Chips of wood flew through the air as the huntsmen brought down his axe. Through the frosted glass windows, he saw a figure staring into the vast woods. Her face was white as ice, like it was chiseled from the finest marble. He knew the Wicked Queen had a step-daughter, but with no knowledge of the girl but the Queen's ill words, you can imagine he didn't think much of her.

Cold was in the air, chilling children's cheeks till they turned red and puffs of white escaped their lips. Eric huddled in thin wool blankets, his back against hard icy stone. He was nothing but a lowly street urchin, with no talents to offer. His only job at a pub got him robbed and wounded. A maiden, wrapped in patched brown cloth kneeled by his side. "Come with me." She cooed. He followed. His mother always used to say "he has a taste for adventure that boy. But where will it get him?" He knew what she was talking about. Like his father. The man who gave her those purplish welts on her cheeks, and left her running away, seeking a different life. The women lead him to a large brick castle, hidden away by lush forests and ivy. The royal palace. She was the Queen.

Not long after, Eric had a job there. He didn't remember much, only blisters, calluses and on a strange but special day, he'd see the beautiful figure of a young girl, peering at him through the frost coated glass, asking silent questions. Being a huntsman found from the Queen asked a lot from him. The hours of restless chores were nothing in comparison to the deeds she asked of him. He'd never forget the look on the chambermaid's face before her demise. Terror flaunting around in the whites of her eyes.

Eric was no killer. But the Queen had no room for weaklings. It would have been easy. Go along with her plans, ignore it as best he could. But Eric was cursed with a conscience, and could never forget staring terror In the eye, being its reason. In all truth, Eric had never let a blade pierce skin. Anyone he was sent to kill, he sent into the forest, telling them to mud their faces and run for their dear lives. The chambermaid, dashing through the forest like a wolf was on her tail. But sometimes, death was all too crucial.

Powder fluffy and pale like snow lay in a tin jar labeled, "Essence of ice". Winter White applied dashes to each cheek. As the magic sank in, she took a vile called "Fox blood" and placed it on her lips, the color a deep staining red. Winter White wasn't even meant to be Winter White. All her life, she was readied. Prince Florian was no doubt to propose to her once he saw her beauty, or rather Snow White's beauty. No one person could fully change themselves, but the art of beautification and altering was one of Queen Grimhilde's strengths, and naturally, she passed that knowledge to her daughter. her real daughter. Winter White was jealous of Snow White. It was not fair that this girl was as charming as she was. Born into beauty like no one had ever seen before. But one day, Snow White would be no more. Winter White would be the girl sprouting jealousy and admiration from others like leaves on vines, contagious in their euphoria. Winter White deserved a happy ending. And a happy one she would get.

Winter White had only appeared as Snow White no plentiful times. During visits to other kingdoms, she'd often peek out the window, hoping to catch the view of Prince Florian. She only caught the view of local readings, writing lengthy pages on the secret princess. One thing she couldn't false, Snow Whites peculiar ability for the cold. She'd only once seen the girl do magic, but it was all but enough. She'd seen the ice come from her dainty fingers. She'd seen the frozen glass on the floors, threading to spill her blood. But Winter White. had a peculiarity of her own. But what is a girl of heat named Winter White. What good is a girl of heat as Snow White. What good is a girl like that unless she hid it, like it never existed.

Being a prince isn't as simple as that. There's expectations, events and constant mentions of marriage and betrothal. If Prince Florian had found public speaking a bore, he would have never made it this far. And don't even get started on laws and legal debates. People can talk all they want, but life is never listening. "How about Princess Orestem Crestle." King Davus suggested. "To outgoing." Queen Titris responded sharply. "Duchess Mousy?" She offered. "To timid." King Davus said, his frown growing by the minute. "She must be strong, but not overpowering. She needs to be seen as a role model for women, but not enough to steal the spotlight for her husband. And she must produce a heir." King Davus stated, running his tongue along his teeth in frustration.

"We could hold a ball..." Queen Titris said, dipping a feather quill into a glass pot of ink. "I suppose." King Davus remarked, rubbing his temples as if he was plagued with a headache. Prince Florian exited the room. All this talk of wives and heirs had him uncomfortable. "Hello." A girl said. Her name was Sissy and she was Sir Charles' daughter. Although he had made his feelings quite clear to her this past summer, she didn't seem to be having any of it. Prince Florian nodded his head and took a step around her. "Wait!" She called out. He pivoted. "It's lovely to see you. I was wondering if you would like to share a cup of tea in the afternoon."

The Prince raised his eyebrows. "I'm afraid I'm busy this afternoon. Maybe some other time."

Sissy pouted, stomping away. Sometimes a polite refusal is the only easy decline. A pleasant walk through the gardens and a browse in the library left him drowsy from pleasure. So the prince went off to his room, thoughts of balls and brides leaving his mind. Though they were there never enough for what was coming. 

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Ok, first chapter! Slightly nervous, what do you think? If you have any questions or comments, or conspiracy theories, feel free to comment them.

(Questions or comments! Who am I, my teachers!? Ok ok, but like how many if you have had your teachers say that at least a mild million times. It's become a routine 😂)

(Try saying Orestem Crestle three times fast. I just invented a tongue twister!!! Not hard enough for ya. Five times even faster!!!)