Snowfall

Prologue: Part 1

In the dark and musty dungeons under the Jarl's Barracks, next to the most vile and contemptible assassins and rapists, a lone woman of ethereal grace sat and wept.  She had fair skin, complemented by her flawless hair as white as freshly fallen snow.  She hugged her knees to her chest, whimpering and silently crying as she thought of her execution in the morning.  The dampness of the slick moss beneath her and the moldy smell of the dungeons didn't brighten her spirits either.  She was going to die tomorrow, and she didn't have the power to stop them.

"Those bastards," she whispered to herself, her eyes shining with tears and contempt.  She reached down to her shackled ankles and tenderly stroked her hand along the skin, rubbed raw by the constant jangling.  Whispering a small incantation, she numbed her feet with cold, relieving some of the overwhelming pain.  Just then, there was the distant echo of the main doors being opened and the resonating thud that accompanied the guards' footsteps.  She hurriedly wiped her eyes and pushed herself farther into the corner, away from the door.  A stray cough from the cell next to her made her jump.  She wasn't sure what time it was, but she wasn't prepared to die - not like this - shackled and malnourished at the hands of an executioner or his noose.  There were things she still needed to do, places she still needed to go.  She couldn't die today, she just couldn't.  There was something for her in this world, that she knew, and she needed to find out what it was. 

As the footsteps became louder, she conjured the image of a dagger made entirely out of ice.  She was prepared to kill and would do so on the flip of a dime.  She hadn't anticipated the door opening to see a solo young, nervous newcomer clutching the torch he was holding as if his dear life depended on it.  He winced as the door creaked and wailed pitilessly in the stagnant air.  The image of the ice dagger in her mind melted into a puddle and she glowered at him mournfully.  He looked away from her gaze and snapped his head down the corridor in every which way.  When he was positive no one was watching, he carefully shut the heavy door behind him, closing the two in the cramped cell.

"You're, uh, the one they call the Witch?"  He asked cautiously, the quivering in his barely-finished pubescent voice giving away how truly afraid he was.  She could tell that he was younger than most of the other guards here, just by the small whiskers of stubble on his chin.  It was mostly just longer peach-fuzz, but who was she to call him out like that.  Her fears about her execution diminished exponentially.  She wiped the tears from her eyes again and nodded solemnly.  She didn't need to look to see any of his emotions.  He reminded her of a lost puppy - afraid, upset, and unsure of who to trust.

"Oh."  A long silence followed.

"Well... are you the Witch?"  He questioned timidly, his hand slowly making its way to the sheathed broadsword at his waist.  She looked him up and down as if trying to figure his worth as a potential ally or a potential threat.  Considering the fact that everyone in this fine establishment didn't give a rat's ass about her or wanted to be the one to drive their sword through her skull, she thought about how in need of an ally she was - regardless if she wanted one or not.

"No.  I'm innocent.  I just," she gestured to herself, "look the part."  She said, attempting a laugh, but ending up sounding more pained than she was.  The guard glanced back at the door as if he were afraid of someone showing up and chastising him for talking to their prisoner.  He then looked down at the floor, brows furrowed and teeth gritted.  His eyes were calculating and his fingers were idly moving on their own.  She watched him in an equal amount of fascination and fleeting concern, worried about what this man was about to do.  Eventually, he cursed the Three Gods under his breath and deftly reached around in his bag.  She flinched and began to reconjure the ice dagger in her mind - just as a precaution - when the oppressive weight of the chains at her feet fell away.  He reached behind her with the key and unlocked the chains at her wrists.  She sat dumbfounded and gratified by this kind stranger.