So, yeah! So new story! This story is dedicated to my darling, beloved, totes-adorbs, cray-cray-tastic Faylinn Norse. I hope you like it, dear! But if you don't, your prompt was awesome, so feel free to redo it: I know I'd like to see a story based around snow that never melts, a hall of mirrors in the wilderness, and a still beating heart in a box. Hopefully this will satisfy that! XOXOXO

He is here! At last, at last, at last, my love, my heart, my dear sweet one has arrived. Isn't he dashing? Look at him there, those deep blue eyes, that sand-colored hair. He is my own, truly, truly. Ah, I love him. A thousand times over I write these words. Let the mountains echo and rejoice with these words. Let all creation ring out with these words: I adore him! I worship him! He is my prince, my lord, my own truest love.

He doesn't know this. But why should he? Secrets are beautiful creatures, blissful and eager and playful. They nip at your heartstrings like pixies, dashing to and fro lighting fireworks, yanking the chain that keeps the words in my mouth. They are willful, but I am strong. He will not know yet.

I fear I do not know his affections, however. Does he feel the same for me? He smiles at me, there across the dinner table, but it is not a special smile. Perhaps he is too shy? Ah but what an angel he is. He is eating roast duck now; his manners are impeccable. My prince, my own true love. It is not unthinkable that he could not marry me; after all he has come to visit my father, his cousin, all the way is this land. I rued the day Father ever took that undertaking at first, but now it is sheer delight having Prince Castian come visit us – just us.

He is so kind. Whenever he discusses the outlaws or the criminals, his eyes are so soft and his words so gracious. His heart is so pure and so tender. I never knew that men could be so kind. I never, never knew. Oh, it is such agony to be this near to him.

They are talking now, Father and Prince Castian. I watch only from the shadows. The candlelight flickers off of his jacket – it is so blue, so rich. It is as blue as the blood of a sapphire, as blue as the milk of the sky, as though every iris that has ever existed has joined together and inked themselves into one perfectly true, perfectly perfect blue. And above the color, his sun-kissed skin that echoes the sun even in this dark room.

I could almost cry. Castian, please notice me. Please, please, please just turn your gaze to me and look at me. I want to say his name. I want him to know how special he is to me. I don't care about being queen, Castian; I don't care about any of that. I'd have you broke, beaten, anything; I don't care. Please love me. Please at least look at me. I feel too much now; it's almost overwhelming. I feel as though here, now, is the red velvet lined chair, I shall burst. My heart is too full of you Castian; I must ease the burden.

I could be so good to you.

Am I… am I so plain that you don't… you don't notice me? I have tried to powder my face just the way the other girls do. I have picked the most elegant, the most tasteful gown I have. I never, never overeat Casian; don't you notice that? Am I not pleasing to look at?

Still he does not look at me.

I fear Father was right: I am just too ugly to marry the Prince.

If only there was a way. If only he could love me. If only I could leave this place with him by side.

I wish. I wish. I wish.

I wish.

March 13, year XXXI of His Majesty, King Gregory's, reign

Momma,

They call him the pretty-boy prince, but actually he's very nice. He isn't that much of a "pretty-boy" at all – whatever that is. At first, I didn't know what to make of him; I guess I thought he was a bit… absent-minded, maybe? Bubbly? He's so gregarious, Momma; he'd make you laugh. He has such curly red hair, it's so funny. Everyone calls him "Red" – the guards and such. Well, Prince Red. It'd be so hard imagining him as King, though; he doesn't seem to take anything seriously. Maybe that's not true, though; I guess I don't know him.

The room they gave me is pretty, I think. I mean, pretty in that manly kind of way. Or something. The walls are all lined with wine-red tapestry and little purple and gold embroidery here and there. The wood floors are so sturdy, not like what we have at home.

How is home? Is everyone well? Did they take care of Anise like they said they would? I've been so worried about her. Are you well? I will be paid in two weeks time; please try to hold out until then!

I am taking care of my body.

Jacque

March 20, year XXXI of His Majesty, King Gregory's, reign

Momma,

The Queen is still sick. They're trying to make it sound like she's not, but actually she is. Prince Red is very worried about her – yes, I'm sorry, even I've taken to calling him that. No one calls him Augustin; it's far too formal, and there's something about the meaning – noble… I mean, he's kind certainly, and funny (and clumsy) but noble? Some people call him Prince André, but… I don't know. Prince Red fits him better. He's improving in his studies a bit, mainly in the arts. He loves dance, but he's so awkward at it. But he managed not to step on my feet today for the first time! Impressive, your highness! He's terrible in history, though. Maybe he's just unmotivated? And his father insists so on it. I guess he will have to know it if he becomes king. But his real passion seems to be poetry – poetry, dance, and archery. Archery seems so unlike him, but he says it calms him. He looks so regal when he's doing it; it's almost inspiring. Maybe one day he'll be able to carry himself the way he does when he's with his bow.

Anyway, what I really want to know is if you received the pay at all, and how was the visit from the doctor – if he did indeed come? Is John holding up well? I haven't heard you mention him. Everything is fine for the most part on my end. My health is good. The nobles are… themselves. I didn't expect them to warm up to me, and they haven't. Prince Red is kind to me when we're not tutoring, so I'm satisfied with that. I am in good health; I know you worry.

Jacque.

March 28, year XXXI of His Majesty, King Gregory's, reign

Momma,

I really like the prince, actually, a lot more than I expected. I'm starting to worry that we get nothing done; there's just so much to talk about. But he seems to be interested in his studies, or is it that just that he enjoys my company? Sometimes I wonder. Even history, though, seems like it's become interesting. We were talking about one of the lesser-known kings – one of those people who seem terribly and infinitely boring – and Prince Red and I were talking about him and we just wondered… Red wondered… what it must have been like to have lived with such…. I don't know, low expectations of life? I know that sounds so strange, I mean, King Frederic was a king after all, but it's just… he never seemed to do much besides have lavish parties and multiple affairs. It seems like it would have been so soul-crushing after a while. I don't know, talking with him was just so nice. He isn't pretentious at all, Momma. Oh, I mean, perhaps just a little. But he's so energetic and youthful and positive! He's so eager and… I don't know… I don't know; I hope he'll make a good King. I know he has maturing to do, but he's so… so kind and sincere. He really has been a solace here. Haha, imagine me taking solace in a prince. I'm just lucky he isn't some awful bore. I'm very grateful to be serving him.

The Queen is still the same; she doesn't seem any better. I asked Red about it the other day, but he doesn't seem too worried. He told me he's confident that she'll recover and that it will turn out for the best. He doesn't seem very close to his father; I'm not sure why though. He seems closer to his uncle, really. I suppose I expected his uncle to be the sinister type, but his uncle is surprisingly gentle and lackadaisical. They're very similar, I think. They're both kind of shy, though his uncle is a bit more serious. It's amazing how much he seems to love his nephew; you can tell it almost hurts.

I'm sorry, I must seem so silly and gushing, but it's just been ages since I've had someone to talk to. Red has done a good job of that for me. I couldn't exactly tell from your letter, but it seems like things are looking up for Anise. And poor John with the carpenter turning him down for the apprenticeship; he does so love woodwork. Do send him my love; I wish he could come up to see me – would that be at all possible? I mean, that is after you receive my paycheck and things are settled down there a bit? When are you getting the paycheck? Do you know how money it will be?

I have never felt better physically, Momma. I love you so much,

Jacque.