Bianca Vale didn't remember a time without her powers. She always remembered being able to create ice from her fingertips and move objects with her mind. Bianca, alongside Wanda and Pierto, joined the side of Ultron and at the age of fourteen was re...
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It was snowing outside.
Small fragile snowflakes moved gracefully through the darkening sky. The winter months were now upon the small village in Norway, and even though bright fires burned in many houses, shivers still moved down people's spines. The night would be long, and when the sun returned tomorrow, frost and ice would cover everything for miles.
The first snow of winter was always celebrated in the small norwagian village. Once the television spoke of the white-pebbles, children would wait by windows, eye bright with excitement. A game would arise as minutes ticked by, whoever saw the first snowflake would be given a sweet. Then they would all cuddle around the fire to hear the ancient legend of the threatening ice queen.
The legend would bring many emotions to the young spirits, teaching them how the first people of the small village were able to overcome the threat. Some moments were scary, making children hide, shaken, underneath their thick blankets. But eventually the hero would win like they always do, slaying the threat when it seemed that victory would never come to pass.
The hero, of course, was long dead, but he was spoken of as if he were alive.
The legend was told every year as the first bit of winter came to cover the village. The tradition, even though it was the same every year, never brought the children or adults any boredom. It brought them a feeling of legacy, and just. This was their home, the place where the first village man defeated the raged ice queen, who wanted to cover the land in snow and ice forevermore. It brought them pride to know that they live on a land of victory.
The legend never changed throughout the eras that it was told. It was the same story with the same villain and the same ending. No one wanted to change the roots of their land, and if anyone tried, the retelling would be torn to pieces, just like the books that villagers tried to write.
The small village didn't want to share this past with anyone, only the people in the small village could know about the ice queen, and the hero, and the founding of their land. The small village from afar seemed to have no secrets, that it was an open and joyful place. But if anyone tried to look closer, they could see the secrets laying under the frost, and the bloodshot deep inside the snow.
But even the mysterious villagers themselves didn't know the whole story. They didn't even know half the story was twisted with literature lies.
The snowfall covered the glass windows of a cabin that laid off to the side of the small norwaigan village. The cabin was made with old wood, and smaller than most of the large antique houses in the village. Flaws seemed to cover the small wooden house, like cracked windows and uneven floorboards. But the owner never tried to change it since it was the oldest house in the village. It was too famous to be remade.
