Snow

It fell like sparkling crystals from the chandelier the new Queen had put in the grand hall. Only these crystals were bright and pure, needing no polishing, reflecting the light in a simple white, rather than the thousand rainbows of the gaudy manmade crystals. The young princess liked snow far better than the chandelier.

It crumpled beneath her feet as she walked away from the castle, away from the halls that seemed colder than the icy outdoors. The cold that froze the forests and fields had never been her greatest trouble; rather it was the cold entombed in people's hearts that bothered her more. This cold, outside, was comforting and beautiful.

It coated the trees like a frosting on a bedazzled cake, sparkling in the sun, grander than any garment on a beautiful female form. The princess knew too well how fickle human beauty could be; the beauty of the snow could never be marred by a cruel heart, for nature could only be pure.

It howled through the valleys as she went farther into the forest, sweeping around her black hair, nipping her pale cheeks like a dog. It played with her locks and she laughed, holding out bare hands as if to take the snowy winds by the wrist and dance with it. It danced with her, the whooshing snow the swish of skirts and the howl between the trees a careless laugh. The snowy winds didn't care about human trivialities.

When she went back to the castle, the princess was soaked through, her skin cold from the last embrace of the snow, but she did not shiver. Instead she smiled for the first time in a long time.