"S'il te plaît, apprivoise moi." A. de Saint-Exupéry
Her skin was as white as snow.
Her hair was as black as ebony.
The delicate, silky curls descended onto her thin, juvenile shoulders, framing an ovale face of a seemingly unequaled purity and perfection. The almond-shaped eyes stared into the distance, the full red lips wore the slightest hint of a smile. Small, white hands were religiously crossed over the ivory-tainted lace of the fluffy dress. She posed in a perfect immobility, while the painter added the last few details to her portrait.
She was Princess Snow. Seven-year-old heiress of the Throne of the Citadel, the Consulat of the Light Green Earths, the Emirate of the Burning Waters and the Principalities of Lake and Beyond.
The dazzling sunlight converged powerfully over her sculptural traits, refracted and reflected on the myriads of translucid facets of the ceiling and walls. Far above her head, intricate buttresses were woven as if into a gigantic crown, ornated in light blues and faint iridescent reflections.
The Palace of Ice. A jewel of architecture, endlessly built and rebuilt from the snows of the nearby mountains. Its lines were as light as feathers, as shiny as stars, as sharp as knives. A residence constructed especially for the infant princess, such that, despite her fragile health that prevented her direct exposure to the sun, she could still enjoy the brightness of the daytime light. From outside, it appeared as a diamond encased in the flank of the Palace's dark walls. All that could see it, from the wealthiest to the poorest, were reminded of their adored little princess, her legendary beauty and rare medical condition.
The paintbrush dipped in the hand-prepared, chemical-free carmin paint to add a touch to the corner of her lips. Soon, the young, fragile, beautiful, much-beloved royal, who already stood as motionless as a picture, would be immortalised by his hands…
The painter silently beckoned the child to his side, revealing her the finished portrait. A pensive air floated over her traits, then she asked him if she could tell him a secret. He bent down to let his ear touch her lovely lips. Her surprisingly chill breath brushed against his chin…
Her skin was as white as snow.
Her hair was as black as ebony.
Her lips were as red as blood.
From their ever so slightly smiling corner, a trickle of a similarly bright colour ran down to her pale chin. Bright white fangs retracted into the darkness of her mouth. At her feet, still warm, lay the man's body, seemingly asleep if it weren't for the liquid that poured out of his neck like red paint. Silently, innocent hands still over knees, faintest scarlet touch on the background that might have been a lighting effect, the portrait stood and watched, now as immobile and immortal as the girl.
Hope you liked this! This one-shot also serves as an opening to my post-apocalyptic sci-fi/fantasy work Tales of Earthdusk: Blood on Snow, which is loosely based on the story of Snow White. I am not intending to upload any more of it as of now, due to an annoying tendency of mine not to write chapters in order. It is also too far from any canon to properly work as a fanfic. Please favourite and constructively review, thanks!