Chapter Text
There are many rumors about how your father had died, but one thing you are sure of is that Anastasya murdered him when you were twelve.
The Belyi Tsar had been in such inconsolable grief ever since your mother passed away from frostbite, perhaps even more than you, that it was only your kind heart that forgave him when he fell in love with that woman when she was barely twenty-five years old.
As the Tsarevna, Snezhnaya's only princess to the throne, you were even younger than twelve when you would sit with them by the fireplace, your head resting on the Tsar’s lap as she would tell him stories about her life before meeting him, back when she lived at the edge of the kingdom by the White Forest. Although you were still grieving your late mother, you understood that your father was happy with Anastasya. Together, you were a family.
You still remember the wedding like it was yesterday.
Anastasya had been standing in the back of the cathedral. Her pale cheeks were powdered with the faintest pink. Her lips, which were often blue from the cold, had been painted with a pale pink, and the back of her white gown was laced so tightly that she could barely breath. As the attendants made sure that she was visually perfect, tying the ribbons on her wrist, she watched her reflection in the mirror on the wall.
Her expression was unreadable, as it often was. That was until your young form came in the reflection right behind her, standing in the doorway and watching her.
“You’re so very beautiful,” you said in a small voice.
As a child, you were always very well-mannered and polite. Pensive too, although Anastasya knew you were only hiding your grief well. She knew you had only tolerated this marriage because of your love for your father. Perhaps now today was the wedding, you were hoping that you would get a normal family again.
You took the end of Anastasya’s long white gown in your hands, pulling it up to keep it off the cold stone floor. She beckoned you forward with a slight flick of her wrists.
“You’re a kind child,” she cooed. “But they say that your face is the prettiest in Snezhnaya."
She touched your cheek. Even as a twelve-year-old, you did not bear the awkward face of adolescence. Your skin was as perfect as porcelain. Your hair shone in the sunlight. Your eyes glimmered like diamonds to compliment your rare but lovely smile. Whenever you passed handmaidens and soldiers alike, they were charmed, dropping down to one knee and greeting you cordially.
You looked up at your future stepmother with eyes so innocent, so naive. Anastasya smiled down into your face, knowing that this charade of love would be beneath her soon. She stroked your cheek with a cold thumb.
“I know this must be difficult, child. I want you to know that I am aware I will never replace your mother. But today, we are family. Today, I am crowned the Tsaritsa, and you are under me as the Tsarevna.”
The music started up and the wooden doors began to open. You stood behind your future stepmother and obediently began to spread the train of her dress. Your father was going to be so pleased to see the way you never left her shadow, even as she walked down the aisle to be crowned as his wife, the new queen.
Anastasya’s pale eyes zoned in on the Tsar standing at the altar. The choir sang a song of marriage. A song of love and holy grace. Their falsettos reverberated around the cathedral like a siren song, and she took a step forward while you trailed behind her, holding her veil to make sure that she maintained her ethereal beauty.
As the priest droned on about faithfulness and mercy, you looked up to the chandelier and held back a sigh. Mother picked that chandelier. She was the one who chose the timeless furniture in Zapolyarny Palace. It seemed as though Anastasya had more gauche tastes.
You used to ice skate with your mother on the frozen lakes. Your father would join you as well, both of them teaching you to stand upright on the ice and wiping your tears when you’d scrape your knees. Your father no longer did that with you anymore.
You didn’t think Anastasya would be willing, either.
Are you fine with this, Mother?
Of course, there was no response.
When she said her vows and the Tsar kissed her, deeming her the Tsaritsa of Snezhnaya, the kingdom was never the same.
Later that day, the crowd was thick with onlookers and celebratory flower petals being tossed into the air when Alyosha tried to push through. In front of him, his friends, Odette and Vodyanitsa, pulled him on each arm, forcing him to come look with them as the royal parade strolled down the streets of Zapolyarny. Everyone wanted a glimpse of the new Tsaritsa, but above all, the people were dying to see the young Tsarevna, who was beloved far and wide across Snezhnaya for her elusive beauty.
“She’s the same age as us — just a kid,” Vodyanitsa informed them, practically bouncing on her heels as she tried to catch a glimpse of the Tsar’s carriage. “Oh, I can’t see anything with all these heads blocking the way!”
“If I turned into a swan right now, do you suppose I could fly to see it?” mused Odette. “I heard Vesna say that she’ll be flying over the parade to watch since there’s so many people.”
“No fair! Not all of us can be Fae that turn into swans, Odette.”
“If only the parade had been done via boat, then perhaps you could be a water imp and watch from underwater.”
“Can you guys quit arguing?” Alyosha asked, interrupting them. “It’s like you two have forgotten that I’m not a Fae. Look — there’s a bunch of crates stacked over there near that building. We can all fit.”
The three of them climbed and crammed onto the crates surfaces just in time to hear the crowd roar with applause and cheers. Guards formed a barrier between them and the main street, signalling the arrival of the royal carriages.
Fronting the parade was the Tsar and the Tsaritsa. The former held a hand up in acknowledgement of his subjects, but the Tsaritsa didn’t smile at all.
Looking at her alone made Alyosha feel the drop in temperature; her eyes were so cold and unfeeling that it made him uncomfortable. By the way his friends were shifting nervously beside him, he could tell that they felt the same.
“Look,” said Vodyanitsa, voice dropping to a hushed tone. “It’s the Tsarevna.”
The carriage behind the newly-weds was decorated with jewels that sparkled. Unlike your parents in front of you, your lips were curled slightly upwards as you gracefully waved at your adoring subjects, who threw flowers and praises in your direction. It was the first time Alyosha ever saw your face and despite the snowy climate of the land, your mysterious eyes burned into his memory like the sun on a glacier.
“So the rumors are true,” said Odette in awe. “She’s gorgeous.”
“Her eyes look sad,” Alyosha said dubiously.
“That’s all you have to say about her looks?”
“Are you actually looking at her?”
True, there was no doubt that you were the most beautiful girl that Alyosha had ever seen. It occurred to him then that he was gazing at the future ruler of the land, the sole heiress to the throne. One day, you were going to be the Tsaritsa.
He wondered how the current Tsaritsa felt, knowing that she was only living as a placeholder for you. It surely must have stung, knowing that although you were only a child, not even in secondary schooling yet, you already outranked her in beauty, popularity, and power. But that kind of thought was above him; there was little chance that he would ever get a say in these royal affairs anyway. To you, he was only another subject who would answer to your command.
“Who’s that boy sitting beside her?” he asked curiously, only noticing the noble beside you now. You were so visually hypnotic that everything else had faded into the background. “He looks foreign, but also from Snezhnaya…?”
Vodyanitsa answered him. “That’s Prince Mitya from Nod Krai. The water imps say that the Tsar wants him betrothed to his daughter.”
Alyosha didn’t know how to feel. A shadow passed over his face at the idea of Mitya, that silver-haired boy with a blue scarf that covered what seemed like an equally silver tongue, marrying you and becoming the Tsar consort. But it made sense. Royalty married for power and political gain, and Nod Krai had strayed too far from Snezhnaya even though it was technically part of the nation. Still, this was the nation of love.
He watched as Mitya placed a hand on your arm to grab your attention, and you tore your eyes away from the crowd to lean in and allow him to whisper something that made your brows fly up. Mitya pulled away, smirking.
“I wonder what royals talk about,” said Alyosha. “Definitely not about bills and coal rations.”
Odette grimaced. “They talk about government stuff, which is much worse. Rosalyne has been getting more unpleasant.”
“What is it she calls herself again?” Vodyanitsa asked in a mocking tone. “‘The Fair Lady?’ As if. Not when the Tsarevna exists.”
“The Tsaritsa inspires her to be harsher,” said Odette. “My parents have been working overtime. Mother doesn’t have the time to watch me dance anymore.”
“Maybe that’s what they talk about,” said Alyosha. “Dance. I’m sure they teach that in the palace so the Tsarevna can dance with Mitya.”
“Prince Mitya is a known art patron,” said Vodyanitsa. “Doesn't mean he has good taste.”
Alyosha snickered, causing Odette to glance at him. It was unlike him to judge another. She looked back at the parade, which had stopped in the middle of the street.
A goblin fae hoisted himself onto a podium and announced, “People of Snezhnaya, I present to you your royal family. The Tsar, The Tsaritsa, and the Tsarevna. Pray that God will watch over the land. Long live love!”
“Long live love,” the people — Alyosha included, albeit reluctantly — chanted back, bowing their heads in the direction of the nobility.
Alyosha did not really quite believe in love. He did feel love for his parents who toiled day and night to survive, and friendly love for Odette and Vodyanitsa. He felt love when he rescued a puppy whom he christened Tugarin for the first time. But romantic love was a liability. All he could see when it came to that was another mouth to feed, or someone who could hurt him. Love was simply another form of loss.
When the crowd began to cheer again, he saw the mask on your face slip. It was brief. You had been smiling serenely at your subjects, but when your eyes darted to your father in front of you as he took his new wife’s hand, your mouth dropped. Your beautiful eyes turned cold. No one else seemed to notice, too focused on your looks.
“Poor girl,” he said aloud.
“Huh?” asked Vodyanitsa.
“The Tsarevna,” said he. “She looks miserable.”
“Don’t be silly, what could she possibly have to despair? All the handsome princes in Teyvat vye for her hand. Imagine all the visitors she gets on the daily. Prince Mitya better feel lucky!”
“She probably has a full stomach every night, and a warm bed to sleep in thanks to her maids,” agreed Odette. “She couldn’t be happier.”
Perhaps there are things in this world Alyosha had that you did not. Suddenly, as if you heard him, you turned. Your eyes met.
Alyosha felt like he had been pierced with a cryo spear. He held the gaze of the most beautiful girl in the world. Your face could launch a thousand ships. Your brows furrowed, most likely wondering why this random young boy was frowning at you instead of ogling like the others.
“Tsarevna,” Mitya called your name, and you looked away. You fixed your face, relaxing your muscles as your betrothed spoke to you, and you never looked back at Alyosha again.
As the parade disappeared from Sneznograd to return to Zapolyarny Palace, Alyosha trailed behind Odette and Vodyanitsa as they gossiped about your relationship with the Prince. They often saw Mitya in the theater watching a show, or visiting the local school where they taught science. He was an open book, they said. Easy and predictable. He is stable.
You, not so much. Tales of your kind heart had spread far across the land. When your mother was alive, you would accompany her in Snezhnograd as she spoke with the Fae. That was when your father was a happier man.
Now, those mirthful tales seemed like fables. Alyosha had no idea where that lovely princess they said you were was. You no longer held that warmth. If anything, he felt sorry for you and the life you lived without your mother.
“Alyosha? Hey, Alyosha, are you even listening to us?”
Vodyanitsa’s voice snapped him out of his stupor.
“Ugh, you’re not even paying attention. Odette asked what you thought about the Tsarevna. She spared you a glance, didn’t she?”
Alyosha thought of your face. You would only grow up to be more and more beautiful as the years went by. Once you came of age, you were to be crowned the Tsaritsa. He knew nothing of your character and only saw your physical appearance. He was merely in the background of your interesting and lavish aristocratic life. He was humble enough to admit that.
But your pretty eyes seemed to tell him, a stranger, a lot. Your eyes were the depths of a frozen lake. They were just so cold.
So he responded to his expectant friends with a shrug. “She is the fairest in the land.”
The Tsar and the guard named Valeriy were watching you from the palace balcony, as they did sometimes when your mother was still alive. You had no idea where the Tsaritsa was, most likely disinterested in your childhood whims. The prince from Nod Krai, Mitya, was your age, and ever since childhood you played together often, chasing each other through the courtyard or sledding down hills.
Mitya was your best friend, probably because he was your only friend. He had been pouting at you for months since the wedding.
“You’re so different now,” he said, trying to goad you. “What happened to the joyful and adorable Tsarevna I know?”
“I do not know what you mean,” you said, watching as he climbed up an apple tree. His white hair stuck up in a hundred different directions. He still had the jovial tone of boyhood. You envied him.
Mitya had a strange habit of putting himself in places that were dangerous or unwelcome towards him. Still, he did it to conduct his experiments, like one time when you were kids and he tied a key to a kite to see if lightning would strike. Valeriy had a field day when he found out, berating Mitya for putting you in danger.
Mitya waited for you to climb the tree like you used to, but you did not. He plucked an apple from a branch and held it up over your head. It was red, bright and juicy. Your mother planted this tree so many years ago and you’ve loved it ever since. Eating the apples makes you feel as though you’re still close to her.
“Go on,” said he, waiting for you to hold your hands out. He grinned mischievously. “Apples are in season.”
When you did, he pulled it away, biting into it himself. He laughed at your annoyed expression, which you had grown accustomed to. There used to be a time when these antics made you laugh until your sides hurt, or when you’d react to Mitya by pushing him until he grabbed you and you both fell. You felt older than him now.
Still, when he hopped down the tree and pouted again, realizing that you weren’t taking the bait, he said, “Okay, okay, I’m sorry — I didn’t mean to damper your mood. I know these past few months haven't been the best.”
Mitya had come all the way back from the wedding to keep you company. He has always tried to cheer you up.
You shrugged. “Papa is leaving for the battlefield immediately,” you said. “After the wedding, a monster was seen near the White Forest. It’s causing blizzards all the way to Sretomorozsk. People are going to die of cold.”
Mitya tutted. “The White Forest is the most dangerous place to be. If only the Snowland Fae didn’t seize total control of it…”
“The Fae are my subjects,” you reminded him. “Papa worked hard to unite us as one Snezhnaya. It wouldn’t be right to discriminate against them.”
“People in Nod Krai are quite wary of them,” said Mitya. “Can’t say I blame them, but hey, the Fae are a lot more good-looking than some folks in Nod Krai. They survive better in the cold. No wonder the White Forest is known as the Faerie World.”
“I wouldn’t dare to go to the White Forest,” you said. You looked at the apple tree and thought about how your mother told you she got the sapling from that place. There were many questions you still had for your mother, yet none of them would be answered. “Papa doesn’t seem to have a problem, though.”
Mitya looked up at the balcony, where only Valeriy was left. “The Tsar is gone. Shall we say good-bye to him?”
You nodded. You were used to your father going off on expeditions. That was just how unstable Snezhnaya was. It was also how he met Anastasya — she had been allegedly imprisoned by a monster in the White Forest, and he rescued her. It was a strange coincidence that the day they were wed was the day the monster came back, and started terrorizing the land for months on end.
Your father was in the throne room where he and his men were preparing for the hunt. Anastasya did not say anything, and merely sat at the throne next to your father’s. She had a surly expression, unhappy about her new husband going away not even a year after her wedding.
Beside her throne was a huge mirror. For what, you had no clue. She requested it there herself.
Mitya nudged you. “She’ll get used to the way things are run around here.”
Outsiders were always taken aback by the cold nature of the Snezhnayan court. When Emperor Zhongli from Liyue visited, as did the Raiden Shogun of Inazuma, both were distraught that it wasn’t within your customs to serve guests hot tea and oranges. You had thought the Shogun was a strict woman, but now she seems like an amicable personality in comparison to Anastasya.
“And you,” you shot back at Mitya. “Have you gotten used to the way things are run around here?”
Your father never said anything, but you have heard the rumors that you were to be betrothed to Mitya. It would unite Nod Krai with the mainland at last. It certainly wouldn’t be unwelcome either since you had been friends since childhood. You wondered if that was why Papa ever allowed you to be around him at all.
Mitya winked at you. “You’re the one who’s going to run things.”
“Daughter,” the Tsar called. He was wearing armor and his greatsword slung across his back. Anastasya was next to him.
You and Mitya both straightened up and bowed. You excused yourself from him to see your father. “Papa.”
“You’ve been a strong girl these past few months,” he said. “It makes me proud to see what you have become. You will be a great ruler once you come of age. Don’t you agree, dear?”
Anastasya’s eyes zoned in on you. Her neutral gaze was ice. “The Tsarevna is indeed as lovely as the songs say.”
“I only ask you to be strong again today as I embark on this quest,” said the Tsar. “It consoles me to know that you are no longer alone in the palace. Now, your stepmother is here to care for you. I hope you will love her too.”
“I will love Stepmother as much as I love you, Papa,” you said. You stifled the sadness you felt knowing that it was not your mother. But if Papa loved Anastasya, you knew you’d give her a chance.
Your father patted your head and embraced you in a warm hug. “I am proud of you, my little dochka. You are loved.”
He let go of you to kiss Anastasya’s cheek before stroking your face once more.
“I will return soon.”
And so, he left with his men to brave the unknown. A tear ran down your face.
You turned to Anastasya. Perhaps she felt your sorrow too, and you could talk about missing him while he was gone. You could talk about the loneliness of being left in the pale palace, and the weight of expectations that the people demanded from a Tsaritsa. Perhaps she could fill in some of the void that your mother left behind. Or at the very least, be your friend.
But she took one look at your teary eyes and flicked her wrist. “Do not cry. You may be dismissed to play with Prince Mitya.”
Confused and hurt, you watched as she turned her back on you to return to her throne, checking her appearance in the mirror. Someone took your hand and dabbed a handkerchief on your cheeks. It was Mitya, who had seen the whole ordeal from the side. He pulled you away, determined to cheer you up again.
He spoke of kingdoms and holidays. You could never seem to stop being sad.
You did not know it at the time, but that would be the last time you ever saw your father.
The cathedral was silent as the ice coffin was brought outside for the commoners to pay their respects one last time. The wooden doors were wide open so that the commoners outside could see what was transpiring within. The flags had been pulled down, and all that lived was wearing black robes, perfect for the Tsar’s funeral.
Alyosha could see you behind your father’s coffin, tear-streaked and dressed in a black gown that covered your whole body. Beside him, Odette and Vodyanitsa whispered about how poor you were, how you lost your mother and now your father too. The townspeople murmured unhappily upon seeing your distress. That it was the price to pay for being too wildly beautiful — one could never have it all. It mattered not that you were gorgeous or rich if you no longer had those you loved.
“At least she has the Tsarita,” said Vodyanitsa. “Her stepmother. She’s not totally alone there. Who knows what would have happened if all Snezhnaya had was a teenage girl for a Tsaritsa?”
“And the prince of Nod Krai,” Odette noted.
Mitya was standing beside you, dressed in black robes as well. Only a year had passed since Alyosha saw you for the first time, and it seemed as though you had grown closer to the prince than ever. He had been away in Nod Krai while your father was off in the White Forest, and when news came out that the Tsar had been killed in battle against the monster, he came back to Snezhnograd right away.
Anastasya began to speak to the commoners in the city below. Her voice was amplified as though magic. It reminded Alyosha of the Fae. But that was impossible, for the palace said she was a human.
“Citizens of Snezhnaya, it deeply saddens me to share your grief over my husband, the Belyi Tsar,” said she. Her black gown rippled behind her. The black veil covered her expression. “He is survived by me, his wife the Tsaritsa, and his daughter, the Tsarevna.”
At that point, you covered your face in your hands. Mitya put his arms around you, shielding your dignity from the commoners seeing you cry. You buried your face into the prince’s chest and Alyosha felt the tinge of irritation, only to feel guilty about it right after. It was not right when you were grieving. He didn’t even know you.
The Tsar had been a just and benevolent ruler. Now, the Tsaritsa was the sole ruler of Snezhnaya.
“It is of grave importance that I reveal to you all how the Tsar died. He left to defend our great nation against a monster of the White Forest. This monster was sent by the Snowland Fae, who, as you know, reside in the Forest, to disrupt our kingdom and take over the land.”
Beside Alyosha, Vodyanitsa gasped. She was not the only one.
“The Fae mean to kidnap the Tsarevna, and use her beauty to grow their power. That is why the Tsar fought hard to protect his beloved daughter,” said the Tsaritsa. “The Fae steal young women’s beauty to develop magic, and with it, aim to oppress us all with it. The Fae people are not to be trusted.”
Odette grabbed Vodyanitsa’s arm. Alyosha also found himself holding out his arms, shielding both of his friends — from what, he had no idea. But Vodyanitsa was a Fae, and Odette was a young woman. The crowd was beginning to look around wildly, pointing out any Fae people and girls among them.
“For my first proclamation as the Tsaritsa, I decree that all young women in Snezhnaya are required to work in the palace as maids to hide them from the outside world, and all Fae people are hereby banned from the kingdom.”
At that, you looked up from Mitya. Your face was full of shock and anger. “Stepmother!”
“No!” Alyosha cried out. He looked back to Odette and Vodyanitsa. “Run… run!”
Odette would never give up her passion for dancing. Vodyanitsa was a siren. He grabbed their hands and took off running with them in tow as the guards began to move in through the crowd, rounding up the Fae people and handing official notices to all the young girls they could find.
The Fae were clasping their hands together, begging for mercy and holding their children close. Alyosha looked back. He could see you struggling in Mitya’s hold, although there was not much you could really do.
“The Fae did not do anything!” you protested. “Papa wouldn’t want this!”
The Tsaritsa ignored you. She looked down at the chaos as though it were beneath her. “That is all from I, your absolute ruler, Anastasya Feoderovna Snezhnaya. Long live love.”
Alyosha’s eyes never left your form as he and his friends fled. He was still glancing back, even when you and Mitya were shoved behind the big doors of Zapolyarny Palace.
You were sixteen when you began ice skating again. Three years had passed since your father died, and Snezhnaya had become colder than ever. Anastasya often forbade you from leaving the palace, saying that it was simply too dangerous. The enemies all coveted your beautiful face.
You don’t know how that could be. After all, there were no more Fae in Snezhnaya. They had all been banished. You had been trapped in the palace for far too long, your only solace being Mitya, who visited when he could. As you both grew older, he had busied himself more with his studies. He even spent a year abroad, studying the pyramids and rainforests of Sumeru with their scholars. You could not imagine ever leaving Snezhnaya.
But in two years, you would come of royal age, and become the rightful Tsaritsa.
You would honor your father’s legacy and bring the golden age back. If Anastasya was willing to give up the throne, that is. She didn’t have much choice as long as you were alive.
You often saw her gazing into her mirror and speaking to her reflection. It was right beside your father’s throne that she now sat on.
What she didn’t know was that you often snuck out of the palace and descended down Snezhnograd to skate on ice. You were forbidden from being seen by others, so this solitary act was one you could do alone.
You glided on the ice like a swan. You could remember going to the ballet with your parents as a child and seeing a girl your age dance in a production of Swan Lake. You envied her and wished to move like her as well. But you rarely had the time to learn. It was easier to move on the ice.
All you remembered from your lonely childhood that involved art was sitting still for hours for a portrait where you were not even allowed to smile, of masquerade balls where you’d lock eyes with Mitya across the room before he spun you in your gown during the quartet dances, and hundreds of poems that you read during quiet days in the palace library.
You had no other friends, much less another girl. Anastasya made sure of that when she banned women and Fae alike for their beauty and magic, which were both threats to her.
You’d never see that girl dance again. The young women were made to become dirty maids in the palace so that Anastasya could remain the most beautiful woman in Snezhnaya. When there were balls, it was always with the aristocrats and you always had to wear a mask and never take it off. The Fae were gone, and now, the kingdom plunged into an age of darkness.
Ice skating cleared your mind. You skated to the other side of the lake where the shore cut into a snowy tundra. People often hunted there. At the far edge of the tundra you could see a forest where all the trees were white. It was the entrance to the White Forest, where a stream flowed in from the lake.
You shuddered, seeing the place where your father had died. The forest was so mystical and daunting, and you had no idea what lay inside. Faerie rings, most likely. Entire worlds where humans were tricked into becoming Fae.
Near the lake, a fire burned by makeshift camp. Somewhere, a dog barked. You were startled when a husky appeared from behind a felled log, wagging his tail at you.
“What’s your name?” you asked, amused. Anastasya would never let you have a pet, not even a goldfish. You looked at the tag. “Tugarin? That’s your name?”
Tugarin barked, chasing his tail in a circle. His owner was nowhere to be found but it was certain that this was his temporary camp, which explains why you’ve never seen it before.
“Your owner must be out hunting,” you surmised. “But the tundra prey will spot a husky, so he left you behind to guard his stuff. Well, you’re not doing a very good job, are you?”
Tugarin barked.
Chuckling, you returned to the ice and spun around, doing a few axels to entertain the dog. You looked down on the ice and saw your reflection. You stared at yourself, mindlessly gliding away until you could no longer hear Tugarin. He never followed you on the ice.
When you blinked, you swore that you could see Anastasya’s reflection instead of yourself. You froze. You could feel her magic, you always have, suspecting that she had something to do with her ascension to the throne and your father’s death. The breeze suddenly felt chillier than usual.
In your reflection, Anastasya spoke.
“Magic mirror on the wall, who in the land is the fairest of them all?”
Suddenly, your own reflection replaced hers in the ice.
“You, my Tsaritsa, is fair; it is true,” said your reflection in the mirror. “But the Tsarevna is a thousand times fairer than you.”
The Tsaritsa's heart turned inside her body, you could feel it. She was green and yellow with envy, like poison ivy. It was no wonder she couldn’t bear having others look at you. You imagined her looking at her mirror in the throne room, cursing your existence.
Suddenly, the ice beneath you began to crack. You were in the middle of the lake. You gasped. This was the thickest ice in the land, how could it possibly break now? Like an eggshell, it splintered into a million pieces, and you plunged into the cold depths.
You kicked and tried not to scream under water, but it was freezing cold. When you tried to resurface, you found that the thick, unbreakable ice had inexplicably frozen back in place. You were trapped.
Fae magic! you realized. But it was not the Fae people’s evildoing. It was the Tsaritsa. She is a human who uses Fae magic. She is a witch!
Now, she was going to kill you, just as she had killed your father three years ago. The chilly current pushed you under the lake, and you began to feel faint. You would drown as the lady of the lake, and haunt Anastasya from the woods as so many do.
While black spots swam in your vision, you felt a pair of hands grab you from beneath and swim with you in her grip. You heard the faint sound of a siren song and thought of your mother, and the way she used to touch your forehead to check if you were too cold…
As you disappeared under the lake in darkness, the snow began to fall on the ice above, covering your tracks as though you had never been there in the first place.
“Dead? The girl? That can’t be.”
When Alyosha heard the news that the Tsarvena was dead, he felt an unsettling weight descend upon his shoulders. It was depressing — creepy, even — that the entire Tsar’s bloodline had been wiped out in less than a decade. All ruled out as accidents.
At the same time, he couldn’t say he wasn’t surprised. The government was always corrupt. There were always worse things they could do. But the loss of the Tsarvena was a huge blow to the kingdom.
Three years had passed since Odette and Vodyanitsa ran away to the White Forest to escape the Tsarita’s wrath, and he never saw his friends again. All he had left was his dog, Tugarin. Now that life was hard again, he got by through hunting down game to support his parents, who lived in another town. He rarely even got to see them.
Life had been cold and lonely. The Tsarvena in the past few years had only become more elusive than ever. People often commented how it was a wasted opportunity, to not see her face anymore. She was so fair that merely basking in her presence would have greatly cheered the people, but the Tsaritsa was a jealous ruler. The people knew the hatred for her stepdaughter burned in her heart like a weed in the garden.
Now that the Tsarvena was gone, the Tsaritsa was the fairest in the land.
“How did she die?” Alyosha asked the bartender at Podvorye Restaurant. The mood at the bar was somber and down. Tugarin curled up beneath his stool chair. “It’s pretty suspicious.”
“She drowned in the lake, was what it was,” replied the bartender. The owner of the restaurant used to be a Fae before they were kicked out years ago. “They say it was the working of a Fae. You frequent that spot for hunting, don’cha? Be careful.”
“I do. I thought I was an expert with the area, but I guess not… How does the Tsaritsa feel? Surely she must feel some kind of despair at losing her daughter.”
“We don’t know,” grunted the bartender. “She is a ruler with no love left for her people, nor do we have any for her. It’s hard times, boy.”
Alyosha remembered your fair face and sad eyes. If he could go back in time and rescue you from that palace, he’d do it. No one deserved to be in a life so dark. He had no idea what you were like. He imagined you to be frosty and muted, like snow suspended midair. Now you were a princess whose heart was forever encased in ice.
“How does Prince Mitya feel?” he asked.
The bartender’s face twisted. “Ah, poor lad. He’s a mess. He loved that girl since they were children, you know.”
“Right,” Alyosha echoed. “It was always him and her.”
The bartender slid him a beer. It smelled like apples. Famously the Tsarvena’s favorite snack since that was what her mother planted for her in the palace courtyard. He cocked his head at him.
“Cheers to the Tsarvena’s poor soul,” said the bartender. “Long live love.”
Alyosha downed the beer. You had lived a life and a face many wished for, but now no one wanted. He wondered if you chose to drown yourself. He wished you had grown up beside him and his friends instead. He knew it was one-sided, but he certainly would have shown you a happier way to be.
Despite the harsh boreal winds that forever permeated Snezhnaya’s climate, your face burned in his mind. Alyosha was not religious, but in that moment, he prayed for you to find your way.
“Long live love.”