Pristine snowflakes danced past the window, twirling in a somber rhythm as they made their gentle descent to the earth below. Such common weather for the Winter Kingdom, yet a nostalgic cadence for the maiden who stared out at the icy landscape. Majestic pine woodlands surrounded the once grand palace, nowadays a silent lull of dreary halls, swaying in the breeze as winds picked up. A growing maelstrom waiting for a chance to bring the stone walls down.

She used to count the snowflakes long ago. A bygone era of innocent days spent with her father as he pointed out each invisible pattern that caught his eye.

“They’re special,” he’d say. “in their own unique way. Just like you, my dear.”

She missed those anecdotes. Those blissful days were nothing more than a distant memory, overshadowed by the void her father left behind, filled only by the greed filled vanity of his new wife, the Lady of Rothwell, now Queen of the Valley of Seasons.

“Ash Sleet!”

The maiden flinched. She hated that name.

Delicate pale fingers clasped the wooden handle of the broom, splinters dug into her palms refusing to let go. Ash turned to the doorway, soft black curls caressed her cheeks, framing her soot covered face as blue eyes narrowed at the unwelcomed presence of Lady Rothwell herself.

The viper stood before her, dressed in purple satin garments with white lace trimmings along the hem flowed around her, hovering inches above the ground. A golden fan, closed in her gloved grasp, tapped against her palm in slow, deliberate beats. The moment it unfurled, clear marquise-cut diamonds sparkled within each fold— a beautiful falsehood.

“Daydreaming, are we?” she asked, tongue as sharp as her gaze. “Unless you’d rather scrub the entire ballroom next, I suggest you stop that senseless dreaming and get back to work.”

The fan closed, top ridges pressed against painted lips. Her gaze furrowed further.

“Is that what you want, Ash Sleet?”

Ash shook her head with a lowered gaze. “No, stepmother.”

“Good.” Lady Rothwell opened the fan once more, fluttering it below the nose. A smile flickered up, dark eyes twinkled in delight at the ragged girl’s expense. “Every hall better be spotless before sundown. If not, you’ll be scrubbing every steppingstone in the greenhouse until I see my face in them.”

As if she needed more of an excuse to see her own reflection. Ash thought.

“Oh, one more thing,” said Lady Rothwell. The fan closed once more. “Make sure dinner is ready. Roast beef must be the main dish.”

Her smile never faltered.

“Tah, darling~”

With that, she turned on her heel and left. Ash was alone once more.

She let out a breath. Both hands ached as they loosened their vice, a few slivers were there, though too small for her to care.

This was her fate. Every day was spent serving her stepfamily within the confines of her own home. From dusk until dawn, every hall, every room, and every stairwell railing and all, had to be maintained to perfection. Sweeping, dusting, scrubbing, cooking— a never-ending cycle of woe.

Nothing was left for her.

Her old bedroom. Her childhood toys. All the dresses tailored to her. Even her own name. All of it was gone.

The palace was cold no matter the season. All the warmth she craved was given to her stepsisters, leaving no space in that woman’s heart for Ash. All the servants who once served her father were dismissed; those loyal to the queen filled their place. No one was left to defend her.

Fate was fate at the end of the day.

“A princess must keep their head high,” she said in a low whisper. “Right, father?”

Her head raised toward the ceiling. Things don’t have to stay this way forever. If there was a way to change fate, she’d be glad to take it.

The Autumn Kingdom was hosting a ball soon. Within a few days, her stepfamily would travel there to partake in the regal festivities. That was her opportunity, her chance to change things for herself.

Ash Sleet would finally leave this place for good.

☙ ♡ ❧