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"I will not marry you," she tells him, as they sit together outside the house on the shore of the lake, watching the horses run through the meadow, then launch themselves into a sky as blue as sapphires. Her voice is firm, the words heavy as stone.
But her face tells a different story. She does not look at him, eyes fixed instead on horses turned birds as they wheel above them, but he sees that she is torn, that her heart is not as fixed as her words, that she has more to say on the subject.
Morozko waits for her to continue. He is many things both great and terrible, fearsome and frigid, alluring and enchanting… but also he is patient. He is always patient with her, having waited so long for her, for her gifts and her power and her love.
He waits, and reaches his hand out to take hers when she stays silent.
"You will," is all he says, and it is then she turns to him.
There's a small smile on her face, and longing in her voice when she replies. "Fine, I will. But I want…" But her voice trails off and she sits silent once again.
"What is it you want, Vasya?" He cannot imagine what it could be, what she cannot say to him, after all this time.
She clears her throat, and leans in close as she whispers, "A proper wedding. With my family."
"That's all?" It's nothing he would have guessed and while he thinks her family will never be happy with her choice of husband, he will grant her this, of course he will, no questions asked.
"All my family," she says, and her voice is firm again.
Ah.
"Well," he says, and her gaze is locked on him, both hopeful and fearful while she waits his answer. "Well, it may take some doing, but if that is the wedding that you want, that is the wedding you shall have."
Her delight is evident when she throws her arms around him and covers his face with kisses.
~~~
The invitations go out, with many different messengers.
There is a wedding. And you must attend.
It's an odd invitation, Olga thinks, when Marya hands her the note. It has no names on it, no dates, no times, no church listed.
But Marya is beaming when she delivers it, so Olga doesn't need to ask any questions.
Her sister is marrying the Morozko, the Winter King. She is not surprised, not any longer, by anything Vasya does. She will attend, for the invitation says she must.
There is one question, though — how does one prepare for such a wedding?
~~~
There is a wedding. And you must attend.
Irina takes the invitation from the little mushroom spirit. "Whose wedding?" she asks.
"You have a sister," says the chyert. "She is to wed Morozko, the Frost King."
"Vasya," Irina says, a thrill running through her. She misses her sister dreadfully, has worried and wondered about her for so long. Just to know she is alive is a great gift. "When is the wedding?"
"Soon," the mushroom spirit tells her. "You will know when it's time. Tell the others, they must attend too."
Irina nods. She will tell them. Her brothers, the chyerti, all who knew and loved Vasya, and they will all be there for the wedding.
~~~
There are other invitations to deliver, and the messengers do not always find them easy to convey. It's only because of Morozko's wishes that the invitations reach the intended recipients.
Polunochnitsa brings many, for she is able to travel to places (with Morozko's blessing) that others cannot.
Medved acts as messenger too, for he is bound to both his brother and to Vasya, and despite himself, wishes them well, though he will never understand their bond to each other.
The recipients are all surprised and pleased by the invitation. They don't ask questions (well, not many), and trust that Morozko will be sure they're where they need to be.
~~~
The wedding takes place at Midnight, in the height of Winter, in a house that is and isn't there. There is snow falling, and the tang of pine is in the air, and the guests wander into a fir grove in the back of the north wind, at the end of the world, nowhere at all, and everywhere all at once.
Polunochnitsa guides some guests there. Many have fallen asleep in their own beds and woke, with their hands in hers, leading them through the darkness first, then through the snowy woods, until they could make out the house in the grove, lights shining brightly out into frosty night.
Olga Vladimirova and her daughter Marya arrive hand-in-hand, Marya's eyes shining in wonder as she gazes around the fir grove. Olga sighs. This was not the wedding she would have chosen for her sister, but if this is what she wants, then this is what she has. Olga's husband, Vladimir Andreevich and his cousin, Dmitrii Ivanonich, the Grand Prince of Moscow, arrive soon after Marya and Olga, both surprised at where they find themselves, and after a moment, both realizing that this is exactly where they needed to be.
Irina and Alyosha and Kolya arrive, one by one. Irina had told her brothers about the invitation and the wedding — Kolya was skeptical but Alyosha believed her immediately. And now that they're all together, greeted Olga with delight, they're just as eager to see Vasya on her wedding night as she has been.
Other guests arrive with Medved, who woke them from the deepest sleep, to live again for this one moment, this one eternity, however long this wedding celebration will last.
Sasha, his father Pyotr Vladimirovich, and his mother, Marina, her mother, Tamara, all wander into the grove after the Bear, feeling the chill in their bones, for the first time in what feels like forever. The dead should not be walking, Sasha knows this. He had chosen his own path, down the star-strewn road, even when Vasya had implored him to come back to the world of the living, and he did not intend to change his mind. But this… this place is not the world he left, and the invitation to his sister's wedding was not one he could turn down.
Others arrive: Dunya, Baba Yaga, Ded Grib, the chyerti of Lesnaya Zemlya and Moscow, all eager to attend the wedding of Vasilisa Petrovna and the Winter King. Pozhar and the rest of the horses are there as well, and Medved stands at the door of the house that is and isn't there, his one eye burning bright as the stars in the sky above.
Finally, the bride and groom arrive, Vasya riding on Solovey and Morozko on the white mare. Her sister is clad in a most unusual wedding gown, Olga thinks, dark as the sky above, trimmed with fur as white as snow. But Vasya's face is filled with joy as she takes in all the guests, all her family and friends who have come to celebrate with her.
The ceremony is simple — still on horseback, Vasya and Morozko join hands and speak a few soft words that only the other can hear, exchanging their vows as the snow falls around them. The guests do not feel the cold, though — perhaps their hearts are warmed by Vasya's infectious delight and Morozko's grave happiness.
After the vows, the wedding party begins. The door to Morozko's house swings open, and everyone swarms into the bright warmth. There is a wedding feast, and music, and dancing, even though there are no servants or musicians to be seen. Olga wonders aloud how all of this is possible, and Marya calls out, "It's magic of course!" before she begins a complicated dance with a nightingale and a firebird.
It's a joyous occasion — weddings always are, of course — reunions amongst family long separated and meetings of those who share the same blood, but have no living memories of each other. The chyerti and the humans and the dead mingle and break bread together, talking and drinking and dancing as if they are old friends, long separated.
"Maybe they are," Vasya says to her husband, as they dance together, hands entwined.
"If they are, it's because of you, Snegurochka. You're the reason why they're all here."
Vasya laughs, and leans in to press a kiss to his mouth. "I think you're the reason they're all here."
Morozko shrugs. "Perhaps I allowed it to happen, but they all chose to be here, for you."
"A wedding gift then?"
"Yes, we shall call it that."
"Thank you, husband," she whispers and kisses him again.
It was not easy to arrange — all the guests and all the magic. But it was worth it, Morozko thinks, when he sees the joy on his wife's face.