Hey everyone! Welcome to the ride! Hope you enjoy!

This is the story of how I died. But don't worry, this is a happy story and to tell you the truth, it isn't entirely mine. You see, I have a sister. And one day, well, one day I made her mad. Trust me, I didn't mean to. But it happened. I guess, in a way, I'm glad it did. Because if I hadn't made her angry that day things might have turned out very differently.

This is our story.

The story of ice.

FRIGID NEGOTATIONS

"What did I ever do to you, Mary?! Why have you ignored me for so long? We used to be so close! Why do you shut me out?!"

"Not now, Molly!"

"Yes now! I deserve an explanation!"

"Give me back my glove!"

"Not until you tell me why!"

"Molly give me my glove!"

Molly shrieked as spikes of ice appeared in front of her, blocking her path.

"Mary! What is going on?!"

"Stay back Molly! I don't want to hurt you!"

"No, Mary, come back!"

The sun burned Molly's nose but she couldn't care less. She knew it was making her freckles appear and that she should be wearing her hat so her face wasn't red for the ball. She felt like such a rebel, running and ducking through the throng of people filling the streets of the city, her long, brown braids flapping behind her. Molly had never been so free.

She dashed though the crowd, now and then pausing to admire the vast array of items hanging from the market stalls. The city was a thriving, lively place, with people all around going about their daily life. A life Molly had never been a part of before this day. She looked on with curiosity at the comings and goings.

Molly Hooper Danalia was anything but an ordinary citizen of the city. In fact, she hadn't seen the city she had called home in over 12 years. Molly lived in the castle at the top of the hill overlooking the metropolis.

Now might be the time to mention she was the princess. Well, one of them. The younger one. Her older sister, Mary Morstan Danalia was being crowned queen that very day.

The gates of the castle, which had been closed ever since the death of their parents a dozen year before, had been thrown open to welcome guests from all over the kingdom as well visiting dignitaries from several nearby kingdoms.

Molly took in all the sights, her large chocolate brown eyes glowing with excitement, observing all the visitors. She wondered what their lives were like, making up stories in her head for some of the more interesting looking ones as she sat on the stone wall lining the bridge, dangling her shoeless feet in the air.

Eventually, she found herself dancing along the harbor, gazing at the boats and waving at the passengers aboard them. She wasn't watching where she was going and was suddenly bowled over, falling over the deck and into a rowboat floating in the water below. Unfortunately, the boat rocked a bit too violently with her body's sudden entry and it flipped, sending her headfirst into the cold water of the bay.

She struggled violently against the water but, having never learned to swim, she began to sink.

Oh God, oh God, oh God, I'm going to die! Oh, what will Mary say? Probably I told you so. Oh, but I won't be there to hear it! Oh no! Oh… wait. Whose arm is that?

Molly came up sputtering and flailing her arms wildly. She coughed violently and someone hauled her up onto the deck and she fell onto her back, attempting to expel the water from her lungs. She felt a large hand patting her gently on the back and when her hacking subsided, she looked up at her rescuer.

Molly's breath caught as she gazed into the handsome face above her. He was unlike any man she'd ever met, not that she'd met many stuck in the palace all those years. Still, he was mesmerizing. The first comparison Molly's water-addled brain came up with was a serpent waiting to strike. She pushed that thought out of her mind though, with a stern, He rescued you, Missy. He's the most wonderful man in the world. Just like in all those stories where the prince rescues the damsel in distress. He's perfect.

She stared up into his bottomless brown, almost black, eyes, and she became aware of just how close their faces were to each other. She nervously pulled back, tucking a strand of her wet hair behind her ear and biting her bottom lip, averting her eyes.

"Thanks, um, thank you for saving me," she mumbled, her voice nervous and unsure.

"It was my pleasure. I'm just glad I happened to be right there, Miss…?" came the reply and she looked up.

"Molly, Molly Hooper Denalia. Princess of Merelle." She smiled shyly at the man as his eyes widened.

"Oh my gosh, I'm sorry! I had no idea you were the princess!" He scrambled away from her, standing and giving a half bow.

"Oh no no, I'm not THAT princess, well I mean I am, but I'm not my sister, I mean, I'm obviously not my sister, I'm me." He quirked a brow up and gave an amused grin as she struggled to stand, her soaked clothes sticking to her and giving her the look of a wet, bedraggled cat.

She took a deep breath. "I mean, if it was my sister, Mary, then it would be different. But I'm just me."

One of her long braids had come undone and the saturated strands stuck to the skin of her neck awkwardly. Molly realized she probably looked absolutely ridiculous and quickly unbraided the other side, pulling all of it back into one long braid at the nape of her neck, avoiding eye contact.

The mystery man watched, amused at her nervousness. "Just you? No." He smiled warmly at her.

"And may I know the name of my handsome rescuer?" Molly tentatively inquired.

"Oh, handsome?" he teased. "Why thank you princess, that's very kind of you." There was a twinkle in his eye as Molly realized she'd said that out loud and blushed profusely, covering her mouth with one hand.

"I'm Prince James Moriarty of Castanya." He leaned in towards her, lowering her voice to an exaggerated whisper. "But you can call me Jim." He winked at her and she blushed again at his boldness.

"In that case, you may call me Molly." She held out her hand to shake his and he surprised her by taking it and raising to his lips, bestowing a winning smile on her just before lightly kissing the back of her hand. Molly giggled, rolling her eyes at Jim.

"Are you flirting with me Jim?" she asked, fluttering her eyelashes a bit.

"Depends on if it's working, Molly," he shot back, raising a brow suggestively.

She grinned, nodding a bit. Oh, it most certainly is.

Molly took a couple steps forward before tripping over her wet skirt and falling unceremoniously in a heap onto Jim, taking him to the deck with her, where she ended up laying on top of him. She squeaked, righting herself quickly and apologizing profusely.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry! This is so awkward, I mean, you're not awkward, I'm awkward, you're gorgeous. Wait, what?" She clamped her mouth shut, her cheeks flaming red as he laughed, picking himself up from the ground and brushing off his pants.

"Don't worry," he said, putting a hand to her face and brushing his thumb across her cheekbone. "I think you're adorable."

She stood there, mesmerized by his gaze for a moment, until the bells sounded in the distance, shaking her from her reverie.

"Oh no! The bells!" she stammered, backing away from him. "I've got to go! The coronation, I've got to change, argh!" Molly turned and fled back towards the palace, running as fast as she could in her sopping clothes, her bare feet stinging from the rocks on the path.

Molly burst into her room, her feet aching from the run back from the harbor and her mind swimming with excitement, both for the impending coronation and because of the Prince who had rescued her from the waters of the bay.

She'd never been in love, but Molly was pretty sure that's what she was experiencing now. She was fascinated by the man. She made an effort to push him from her mind though as she hurriedly stripped off her soaking wet dress and undergarments, drying herself off with a fluffy white towel before digging through her closet for her sage green coronation dress and brown shoes. She pulled out dry underthings and set to getting dressed as quickly as possible. When her clothes were on, she took her hair down and rebraided it, twisting it up into a bun at the nape of her neck. She glanced in the mirror. Her hair was still damp but it looked presentable.

She was actually more worried about pleasing her sister than what the audience would think. Molly had barely seen Mary since they were small children. She had no idea why, but Mary had spent the majority of her life living in another wing of the castle and never venturing out unless absolutely necessary.

Molly rushed through the halls to the drawing room just outside the large ballroom where the coronation would take place. She flopped down in a chair, her foot tapping the floor impatiently as she awaited the arrival of the soon to be queen.