Darkness was all around her, that same scene playing out in her head more times then she’d like to remember. The cold the forest, the howling of the wolves, the cry of her sister for help all racing through her memory like the cold curse that ran through her veins. Adalia and her, that is always how it had been, they had been inseparable. Like two halves of the same coin. Her sister had loved her magic, had loved her secret power that only she could control. But that day had stolen everything from her.

They were playing in the woods, something there parents had always told them not to do, and certainly not at night. Why hadn’t they listened? Why couldn’t they do what they were told? Things would have been so much simpler that way, but they hadn’t listened. They hadn’t done as they were told, they had crept silently into the night to play in the undisturbed snow of the forest winter. At first the night had been like any other of the hundreds she could remember.

The scene that followed, the wolves, the cry for help, the fight for their lives, and finally the icy coffin that played both their doom, was one that played in her head most nights. During the day she was the ice queen hardened by an icy heart, but at night the dreams came forward and showed that some small piece of her heart was still hers. That part was long since buried away, and she no longer knew it existed. It was likely that it struggled to live on even in her dreams….how much longer until even that part of her humanity died.

She awoke from her slumber at the first morning light. Her palace, like herself, was a beautiful sculpture of icy perfection. It was here that many men met their untimely demise. As was usual with her mornings she arose and sat down in front of her vanity so that the goblins may come and prepare her hair. Her long silver locks were arranged in a loose but elegant braided knot down her back and her Icy crown placed upon her head.

She dressed in a dress of Dark Blue Velvet and Lace, and then walked from the room without such a glance at her appearance. She walked past the many empty icy halls, through the room that held the darkened pit. The room smelled of blood, of death. A normal person might have paused to strength their resolve, but she just kept right on going as if the death that room represented, death on her account. Kept going as if those deaths meant nothing to her, and in truth they didn’t. Hundreds had died for the frozen beauty and hundreds more would seek the same path only to reach the same end, but none of it mattered to her.

She walked up the frozen stairs to her icy throne and looked out at her kingdom. It was cold, it was empty, it was eternal, much like herself.

((Sorry it took so long Kat Dakuu:))