William 'Billie' O'Neal was born only two years after Alex in the same village. Billie had never left the village but didn't really mind. He enjoyed his family and friends. He enjoyed working in the small bakery with his dad. He was contented.
Billie didn't know Alex that well, only that he was an orphan boy who liked flowers. But he did notice that Alex was friends with Isabelle, the oddest girl in the village. But otherwise, he didn't pay that much attention.
As he had grown older, Billie felt withdrawn from his friends. He preferred spending more time helping his dad in the bakery. His friends were still contented with village life, but Billie was looking for more. He even dreamed of moving away somewhere and setting up his own bakery. He worked hard to learn every tip and trick he could glean from his old man. He was willing to work to make his dreams come to fruition.
Throwing around heavy bags of flour and moving trays laden with bread, had given Billie a strong form; and his grey eyes only added to his charm. Billie found that many of the village girls had a tendency to follow after him and giggle behind their hands when he passed. Although he found it flattering, he found it equal measures annoying. This meant to have a nice walk in peace, he had to walk in the forest.
Billie enjoyed the forest. He found the noise of his footsteps in the snow and the wind in his face a comfort. He liked to think there were spirits in the forest, like in his grandmother's stories. She had told him that before the curse, sprites used to tend to all the plants of the forest. They kept it healthy. If you stood still enough and quiet enough, you could hear their conversations. But when the curse hit, the magic was powerful enough to send all the sprites to sleep. However, if one had the time and the patience; stood still enough and quite enough, then the snores of the spirits could still be heard in the forest. They were just waiting for the curse to break so they could wake up again.
When he was alone with the forest, Billie liked to see if he could hear the sprites as they slept. He let himself be childish and listen out for them.
As he stood, eyes closed and ears open, he found he could hear something. It wasn't the delicate snores of any forest sprites, but the sobs of somebody. Then voices, soft and carried along by the wind.
Billie felt the distress in the wails down to his very soul and followed the voices. Perhaps to offer assistance. Perhaps to offer condolences. But when he reached a clearing, where the voices came from two young men, he didn't disturb them.
For one of boys conjured an snow drift using only his hands and what must of been some kind of magic.
The boy had eyes like ice and hair the colour of freshly fallen snow.
Billie's grandmother had told him many stories. One he had heard many times, he could recite it off by heart. About a boy who could move ice and snow with magic.
The story of The Ice Prince.
Billie ran back to the village and rounded up as many men as he could. It was time to end this winter.
One way or another.