Queen Snowflake took a deep breath, the frosty air stinging her lungs. Her hand went to the polished silver hilt of the ceremonial dagger at her waist, a cold comfort. She walked through the grand doors of the throne room, the heavy oak swinging inward with a resonant groan. The low hum of the crowd hushed into a pin-drop silence. Every eye, from the lowest stable hand to the highest-ranking general, was fixed on her. She felt a thousand different emotions all at once—grief for her mother, fear of the unknown, and a sudden, fierce determination.
She reached the dais and stood before the empty throne. It was carved from a single block of shimmering ice, its back a perfect snowflake design, and it seemed to hum with a silent, powerful energy. She had watched her mother sit there a thousand times, a picture of grace and authority. Now, it was her turn.
"My people," she said, her voice clear and strong, though it trembled ever so slightly. "My mother, Queen Aurora, has passed into the great silence. Her reign was one of warmth, even in the coldest of winters. But though her light has gone out, the kingdom will not be plunged into darkness. I am Snowflake, and I will be your queen."
A collective murmur rippled through the crowd, a mix of sorrow and hope. A few of the older courtiers exchanged concerned glances—she was so young, so untested. But the younger generation, who had grown up watching her graceful, reserved demeanor, felt a surge of pride. She was one of them, a fresh start.
She walked to the throne and, without a moment's hesitation, sat down. The cold ice was a shock at first, but she quickly settled, the crown jewels glinting on her head. The weight of the crown was heavier than she could have imagined, but as she looked out at her people, a different kind of warmth spread through her. It was the warmth of purpose, the understanding that she was no longer just the princess enjoying her quiet indoors. She was the queen, and her reign had just begun.