Queen Snowflake walked through her castle, the cold marble floors a familiar comfort beneath her feet. She had always found a strange sense of peace in the quiet grandeur of the indoors, a world of frost-kissed windows and ice sculptures that never melted. The great hall, usually bustling with servants and courtiers, was eerily still. A hushed quiet had fallen over the kingdom, as if the very air held its breath.
Her mother, the old queen, had always been the sun of the kingdom, her warmth and power radiating from the throne. But now, that light had gone out. Snowflake felt a chill that had nothing to do with the castle's perpetual winter. She had been born and raised to be a queen, trained in matters of state and diplomacy since she was a little girl. Yet, she had never considered the reality of it—of one day having to rule all on her own. The weight of the crown felt heavy on her head even before she had worn it.
Her mother's most trusted advisor, a wise old yeti named Borin, approached her. His usual stoic expression was softened with sorrow. "Your Majesty," he rumbled, his voice a low tremor. "The people await your word."
Snowflake's heart hammered against her ribs. She was no longer just the princess who enjoyed the solitude of the castle. She was the queen. She would have to step out of the shadows and face her people, her grief a private matter in a very public world. She took a deep breath, the frosty air stinging her lungs, and straightened her shoulders. The time for sorrow would come later. For now, she had a kingdom to lead.