Khione waited.
Her legs were crossed, prim and proper. From the corner of her eye, she looked out the window to find a storm raging. A slight smirk traced its way across her lips, and, with the barest motion of her hand, the snow intensified. She then turned her head back to what stood in front of her, examining her nails.
It was a mirror. A rather simple one, despite its full length. The goddess stood, and she touched her reflection. A true beauty, she told herself, was one who recognized the value of being alone. The only way to be truly beautiful was to know the capacity of one's beauty without anyone else serving as a constant reminder. The snow was truly beautiful. Each flake had none but itself, and it fell alone through winter skies to grace the world with its cold, indifferent kiss.
Khione had not always known this. She thought she did, years ago. But only a month ago did she really know what it meant to be completely without others.
She opened her hand, and frost crept across the surface of the mirror. Her father and brothers, gone. She hadn't seen them since the war. They were most likely hiding, she assumed. The gods were not merciful in their wrath.
She looked her reflection in the eyes. "I do not like losers."
The image of her in the frost said the words back to her, and she pretended that she wasn't affected by them. She knew, somewhere in her heart of ice, that she had also lost; Gaea was not the only loser in this war.
It was not fair, she decided. It was not fair that she had always been exiled and disrespected, and her one chance to be honored was taken. It was not fair that the gods were cruel, and had the authority to make her life a disaster. It was not fair that the Fates could weave the future, but left her with nothing. She pointed at the mirror and decreased the temperature so much, it cracked. She wouldn't have to pretend that she was beautiful anymore.
Khione began sobbing, right then and there, with only silence to comfort her. The news had come to her only minutes before. Her first reaction was shock, and now, it was grief. She mourned the death of possibilities. That was her one way out of this personal hell, and it died in a fiery explosion.
Khione despised fire. The perfect weapon to snuff out her frigid paradise. A perfect representation of the emotion that consumed her, bringing her further and further down this spiral of self-hate and despair and–
Stay. Calm.
The two words echoed through her like a bell.
Stay. Calm.
The two words that defined her life from her birth.
Stay. Calm.
The two words she never wanted to listen to, but saved her from herself.
Stay. Calm.
Stay. Calm.
Stay. Calm.
No.
She released everything with a scream. A blizzard of epic proportions tore through the room, collapsing walls, lifting the shards of mirror from the floor and shattering against the structures in the room. Through this, Khione walked towards the throne in complete, mental agony. Her mind screamed at the walls, and the echo of the raging storm replied. She reached the ice cold seat in the middle of the room, and without a beat of hesitation, she sat.
The winds accelerated; the snow fell in sheets so thick that she wasn't able to see through them. And through it all, the goddess laughed. That utter joy of being on the throne, it was... seductive. It was the gentle caress of a lover's hand, bringing her deeper into its pull. And the feeling of being in power. Was this what it was like? So in control, yet unrestrained. An iron fist over others, yet her magic could run free. She could run free.
Realization hit her like an arrow to the chest, and the storm came to an abrupt stop. Power was a matter of perspective. The throne did nothing to augment her abilities, but it was the confidence of feeling regal. She didn't deserve this feeling.
Quietly, she walked back towards the window to look outside. No mortals walked the streets, avoiding the conditions of the outside world. Khione looked at them pitifully. They were afraid of what she had mastery over. Should that not make her a ruler over them? A queen, in her own right?
Humans never feared the earth itself. But many feared the snow when it was angry, as it banded together into a destructive force. She could cover Gaea's throne, the very land she walked on, with ice. She could make it hers. Every person would learn to love her.
Every person would learn to fear her.
If she wanted to be a queen, she would need to get better at lying to herself.