Alara Alara The Place

In addition to the “Snow” prompt, this also came from a prompt from the tumblr blog Sparking Story Inspiration: “Princess Snow White and the evil Snow Queen? One and the same.”

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My mother was a witch, but she died when I was too young to learn her craft from her. My stepmother was a witch, but she hated me and taught me nothing. Everything I know, I have learned for myself.

When the prince awakened me with a kiss, he expected me to be his wife, and I had no idea there was any other possibility. No, even to say that implies more questioning than I did. I had been raised a princess, taught that my value would be in marrying the prince of another land and securing an alliance for my father’s kingdom. When the prince said he would marry me, I did not particularly want to – I wanted to return to my simple life in the cottage, with my dwarven friends – but if I had been asked, I would have said I chose the marriage freely. Because I had been taught, this was my value, this was the most important task of my life. This was why the huntsman had spared me, why the dwarves had found me and cared for me. This was my purpose.

He was handsome, and I thought he was kind. Certainly he treated me as something lovely and precious to be protected, at first. On our marriage night, he demanded a husband’s rights, and I had been left ignorant of such things by my stepmother and how young I’d been when I went to live with seven wifeless men who would have died rather than corrupt my innocence with a hint of such knowledge. It was painful, and somewhat frightening, but he was the man whose kiss had awakened me from the sleep of death. I trusted him.

I should not have.

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