The Snow Prince

introduction.

That's the thing about winter: it walks in beauty but welcomes death. It is only worth admiring from afar, for if you're not careful it will sneak into your house and sleep in your mother's chest. It will kill the fire and freeze your toes, bringing you to your knees when you are forced to pray for clemency. If you are one of the lucky ones, though, it will take you far, far away, to a world where you are no longer afraid.

On the coldest day of the year, a rush of cold air flooded the ballroom when the reindeer entered the scene. A collective gasp drowned out the cheerful sound of the violins as a handful of guards raced after it.

"Apologies, Your Majesty," the captain of the guard broke the silence with a shaky voice weak from the chase. "I do not know how this happened, I..."

A gloved hand that sharply rose in the air was enough to silent him. The reindeer had made its way into the centre of the room, catching his breath as nearly eight dozen eyes observed him with extreme caution. The animal was big and strong, abnormally so, for it was as tall as a horse. The most incredible thing about it was not the greatness of its antlers or the way it seemed to have outpaced the royal guards: it was the girl on its back. The Queen stood up from her throne and slowly walked towards the beast. Her white dress unfolded behind her, elegantly decorating the stairs with a silver thread pattern of snowflakes that shone on top of the fabric. The reindeer tried to move back as she attempted to touch its head, but instead caught her threatening gaze and froze. A young lady lied on top of the animal, motionless, wrapped in a crimson cloak. Her eyes were closed and her lips were blue but deep down there was still a heartbeat.

After revealing the dying thing to the rest of the audience, the Queen said: "Throw her out. We shall return to our festivities."

"Mother!" cried the Prince from the back of the room. He was pale and out of breath, as if he had seen a ghost.

"I am sorry, child. The blizzard must have taken her by surprise. There is nothing we can do. She is already dead."

"Surely there must be something. Do something."

"Son..."

"It's my birthday, is it not? Shall I not have everything my heart desires?" the Prince argued, standing up from his throne. "My desire is that she will not die tonight."

A murmur travelled through the guests at the strangeness of the petition. The Prince was not prone to compassion.

After some seconds of silence, the Prince spoke again.

"Please."

Another murmur. He was not prone to manners either. Defeated, The Queen let go a sigh.

"I guess I can do my best," she whispered. She was just as troubled as her son, but she was more experienced at hiding it.

The Queen took her hand to the girl's cold cheek. She leaned in and gave her a kiss on the lips.

The girl in the red cloak was no longer cold.