Once upon a time, there lived a Queen who ruled over her kingdom, and she was the most beautiful woman in all the realm.
She married a war hero, a strong fighter who had risen up against a tyrant and won. They made a splendid couple and had three beautiful children, their eyes bright and their hair golden crowns.
The Queen's valiant brother was tasked with guarding the King and a proud warrior in his own right, the youngest to climb as high as he had done since the age of heroes and myth. He shone as brightly as his twin, golden, smiling, the pride of his family. All the maidens swooned when he rode past them and whispers could be heard in the night about how he looked like royalty should.
There was peace, plenty, laughter.
But no matter how small, the Queen's spiteful little brother continued in the infamy that compromised his entire existence, jeering, making a fool of all his kin. Even as she smiled, the tender flesh of her cheek ached from the blow she had received at her noble husband's hand, the one that had once slayed the Mad Tyrant's son. Her father scowled at her, his cool gaze bowing her very spine, making her cower and all the while, it was him who bent his knee before Her Majesty. There were evil tongues, whispers, vile rumors concerning her heirs and although she could order the immediate execution of any one enemy she cared to knowing nothing but a name, there was no power in the world to stop the plotting in the darkness, the poison against the ones she loved brewed in the dark.
The Queen fell into the arms of her brother, sobbing, letting him comfort her. He stood by her as was his duty, his promise against her lips.
The King found his end and the air in her lungs became clear again.
But then came the war and took her brother with it, ripped him from her side. Her son's life slipped from her grasp, that of the other on his heels. Finally, her daughter.
Her mind became an abyss into which she sank with abandon, digging her own grave, bathing in blood.
Once upon a time, there lived a maiden with long blonde hair and blue eyes.
She had never been meant for the bed of another man, it seemed. There was no talent for sewing, or singing, or dancing to be found in her and as the years passed the lands by, all hopes that beauty might yet flourish withered and collapsed into dust.
So she fled from her father's side in every way but in her heart and bore the wish to make him proud in a fine set of armor. She gave her service to any in need, yet clung to her virtue as fiercely as her sword, fighting against men whose children she would certainly have borne in another life. A life other than the present in which she was the maiden fair in a song whose image she shamed as she came to dance with the bear.
But for all her unnatural strength that no gods should have seen fit to bequeath to a woman, she was never going to be rescued by no prince, but a liar, an oathbreaker, a broken creature that took pleasure in taunts and casual cruelty.
When the same man gifted her steel dating back decades with a purpose and a path that only she was given enough trust to follow, she laid down on a bed of leaves and let the winds wipe away the salt from her cheek.
Once upon a time, there lived a valiant knight as beautiful as he was deadly.
He slaughtered enemies when he was no more than a boy, barely aware of his greatness until the tip of a greatsword first touched his shoulder. He cared for his brother for all his flaws, he strived always to please his brothers in arms and he loved his sweet sister most of all.
The knight became a guard to the King, observing each bruise caused on the Queen's pale, frail skin and the frown on his father's face deepen with each denial of his birthright.
But he had no desire to rule, to be a lord. He saw each day how heavy the crown weighed on the heads of those who wore them, had seen the edges of gold all but bury themselves in the Mad Tyrant's skull to drive him towards fire and blood, iron and death.
The war came, an all too familiar siren song to his ears. He followed where it commanded him to rot in darkness.
When he saw the light again, it would be drunk with wine, with thoughts of his Queen, with the desire to escape the freakish clutches of a beast.
In the end, he saved the beast and lost his merit to blindness in the face of sapphires even as his family drowned in riches.
He returned to the now charred and crumbling kingdom, the values of his youth burned to ashes, twisted, ugly.
He once again crossed the beast's path to discover her essence to be the perfect opposite to his hideous vices, her ghastly shape in contrast to his lithe frame. Both the crimson gash across her cheek and the pathetic stump in place of his right hand have made them into even harder people.
But they stood together against the cold in the long night.
And the wind howled as the Queen screamed with her dying breath as dragons descended upon the heavens.