Foreword: The following is a fairytale, Snow White AU piece. Another ambitious project formed over the years... if I'm honest, I wish I could publish this as it's meant to look. Believe me when I say it has that 1700s storybook feel to it, fancy fonts and all. It's an amalgamation, however, of a number of different takes on the Snow White tale – from the brothers Grimm to Disney to Once Upon a Time to Snow White and the Huntsman and beyond.

While this has its roots as an Angel Sanctuary gone Snow White, Grimm-era fairytale AU, this piece (and the AU as a whole) features Nemaelle Mudou, OC for my Chronicles of the Fallen series. It also features Azreal, OC for Coming of the Seraph, a series written by HaloRecoil, and Zephyrel, OC for Eve of the Earth, a series written by Jael Randell (who long-time members of the readership likely know as the cowriter for CotF's second installment, Layers).

Queen of Mirrors, Queen of Arrows
The Tale of Our Lady Princess of the Snow, Nemaelle
And the Reclamation of Our Kingdom of Assiah
By: Brenli

Once upon a time, there lived a great sorceress in the borderlands between the great kingdoms of Heaven and Assiah. None knew her name, nor her face, but all knew her mask – beautiful, smooth and white, in contrast to the twisted, pale dreadlocked hair that tumbled from the back of her head. The people of both kingdoms could not be sure if that sorceress, though full of grace, was an Angel or a Demon – for though it was said she could be of great service, it was also said that she could visit curses upon the very people she offered her mercy toward.

Most people did not seek her out, for none wanted to risk a curse in return for a favor... Except for one girl. A young lady of common blood, hair blue as sorrow, she bemoaned a love that would not and could not be realized in light of his nobility. Threadbare and dirty linens for dresses, and not enough water to rid the filth from her skin and hair, left her invisible to her love, though she once touched his hand when he came to offer alms to the poor. So she went out into the borderlands, looking for the sorceress with a mask neither cruel nor kind. She would have her love, or she would die trying.

The sorceress came upon her when her feet had become blistered in her travels, and healed her as the girl with the sorrow-blue hair wept of her love and begged, "Please, make me beautiful. Make me the most beautiful in all the land. Let him see me, love me, and marry me...!"

So the sorceress prepared a potion with which to enchant the girl, and had her prick her finger, dropping three fresh red drops of blood into the milky elixir. "By fairest blood it is done. Drink, but be warned...! By fairest blood this spell can be undone."

The girl drank deeply of the potion, not caring for the sorceress' warning – so deep and desperate was her love for the man. The sorceress disappeared in a wisp of autumn air, and at first the girl thought she had been tricked, for she felt no different. Looked no different... and yet, when she returned home, she found that men looked her way, smiled, tipped their hats to her and bid her good day. And when it came time to receive alms from the generous nobles, and she touched that black velvet glove a second time, he held on. A month later, a ripple of excitement echoed across the kingdom when a most shocking event occurred – a noble married a common girl, and Azreal, with her hair blue as night sky, eyes like stars, became a Princess of Heaven.

And while this is her story, this is also the story of one other.

For a few years later, in the borderlands between Heaven and Assiah, in the thick of winter, a royal carriage carried a King and a Queen toward their royal palace. The Queen was heavy with child, due to bring their first into the world. The King teased her for the embroidery she had just finished in their travels – a red rose, three blood drops spilling from one of the seven thorns – but she only smiled and said that she must remember how she'd pricked her finger on a rose a week before, how the blood upon fresh morning snow had made her ache for a child who looked just so – snow white, blood red. She hoped that roses would bloom readily on pale cheeks. She hoped that their child would be strong as thorns but gentle as flower petals... If the Queen had meant to say more, it was lost to screams, as the carriage slipped on ice and snow, suddenly toppling down a steep slope into the woods. So horrible was the accident that their driver had broken his neck in the fall, the carriage was crushed and useless, and the Queen, jostled too violently, went into labor. The King knew nothing of how to bring a child from a woman's body and into the world, but brave and desperate, he did the best that he could. A daughter was born on that day, and she was all the Queen had wished for. Skin white as snow, eyes red as blood and rose petals. Her cheeks were crimson from crying and from the cold, and she was beautiful. The King bade his beloved wife to look upon their Princess, only to find that his Queen had passed away.

Heart heavy from mourning, the King wept until the tears froze upon his face, but pressed on into the white chill of winter with nothing but his royal sword to protect him and his poor daughter, and the embroidery his wife had finished only moments before the carriage slipped. They were far from the palace, and the King could only hope that he would make it home before the forest would claim their souls... and then the sorceress appeared in a swirl of snowflakes and biting winter wind. If the King had been alone, he would have gone on his way without asking for her aid, but the child in his arms had grown quiet and purple with the cold. He begged the sorceress, "Please, take my daughter and I home! I am Setsuna, King of Assiah, and my people need me!"

But the sorceress only shook her masked head. "You ask me to come too close to the people. I cannot leave the borderlands."

"Then help me to keep my daughter warm, and give me a bow to protect her from harm! My sword is only useful when danger is near me. I do not want any threat to come too close to my Princess!" He had cried, and the sorceress gave him a long fur coat, a sling to bind his child to him from within the welcome warmth of the fur... and a peculiar, enchanted bow of crystal, with seven crystal arrows to match.

"There is no need to gather your arrows, for after the seventh has struck, they shall return to you. But be warned...! For while arrows reach long they may still kiss fairest flesh." The sorceress disappeared just as she had come, in a flurry of snow and wind, leaving the King to return home with his little daughter, safe and sound.

During Queen Sara's pregnancy, she had consulted with many men who studied the science of fortune, men who charted out auspicious days of birth and gave her ideas for names. At the end, it had been decided – Nemamiah for a son, after the Angel of Just Causes, the Angel who would protect and fight for those who could not do so for themselves, and a feminine derivative for a daughter... Nemaelle, taking the strength of the name and tempering it with gentleness. The King honored his wife's wishes and bestowed the strong as thorns, gentle as rose petals name upon the child, but he and all of court preferred to call her Snow... the Princess white as the winter she had been born in.

This is a story about a Lady of Heaven, yes, but it is also a story about a Lady of Assiah, and how their fates twisted together like thorny roses upon a silver trellis, with a kingdom at their wrath and mercy...