Prompt: "There was something different when they woke up."
There was frost on the castle window panes that day, and snow flew in finely-chiseled flakes from a gray, windblown sky. Queen Heather Joveson sat on the sofa near the hearth, stitching at her embroidery. Her two daughters, Maggie and Hanna, were playing with dolls at her feet. Or rather, Maggie was playing with dolls, and Hanna was trying to eat them. But they were both enjoying themselves; their laughter was music to Heather's ears, and was much sweeter than the screaming winter wind that kept them from being out of doors.
King Jupiter Smalls, released from his most recent meeting, walked through the doorway and into the room. Hanna immediately let out a squeal and ran to him, and he caught her up into his arms, laughing. Heather gave him a warm smile from her spot on the couch. Heavily pregnant with their third child- and maybe also their fourth, she suspected- she found it more comfortable to stay where she was and keep movement at a minimum.
"Free of the ambassadors at last, my love?" she called.
Smalls laughed. "Yes, but they shall return, and- I fear- in greater numbers." He set Hanna down, and she toddled back to her spot beside Maggie.
"Mother," Maggie asked, looking up as Smalls sat next to Heather and put an arm around her, "if Hanna puts Lady Whiskers in her mouth again, her head will fall off."
"I don't know, Maggie dear," Smalls said, cocking his head to one side. "Hanna's head looks pretty firmly attached to me."
"No," Maggie frowned, as Heather struggled to keep back a smile, "I meant Lady Whiskers."
"Come, Hanna, sweetheart," Heather said, patting the remaining space next to her, "come and feel the baby. It's kicking again."
Hanna willingly relinquished Lady Whiskers and after struggling to climb onto the couch she snuggled up close to her mother. Heather guided her small hand to the bump on her round belly where the youngest Joveson was making its presence known. Hanna's eyes widened in awe as the lump beneath her hand moved itself.
"May I feel it?" Maggie asked, scrambling to her feet. A real baby was much more interesting than a toy one. Soon both girls were squeezed next to her, and they became one cozy little group, immune to the cold, gloomy weather outside.
"Can you tell us a story, mother?" Maggie asked, looking up at her with bright eyes. Hanna nodded vigorously, leaning her small head against Heather's swollen belly as she prepared to listen.
Smalls gave Heather's shoulders an affectionate squeeze. "Go on, my dearest Scribe of the Cause. I know there is no limit to the amount of stories you can tell." Heather smiled, needing no further encouragement.
"I will tell you the story of the Great Snow Match, which occurred the winter before I met your father," she began.
"When your Uncle Picket and I woke up that morning, we could tell something was different. The past days had been cold, but not THIS cold, we both agreed. The lighting in our bedroom was paler than usual. There was also a sort of mystical stillness, as if some great event had occurred and nature was holding its breath in awe. We dashed to the window and found ourselves met with a sparkling white wonderland. Snow was piled up around our home, and the sun was reflecting its shy winter rays off of the icy-cold surface.
"Needless to say, your uncle and I went wild. We dashed down the stairs, and our mother laughed when we broke the relatively quiet bustle of breakfast-making. She had been expecting it, I think, for no one knows a child better than their own mother." She smiled a moment before going on.
"After breakfast, we bundled up in our warmest clothes and bolted outdoors. It was cold, and we sank up to our waists in the snow. I wanted to admire the beauty of the frozen meadow, but your uncle thought it would be much more fun to have a snow fight. And I heartily agreed with him.
"We made a line in the snow that divided the meadow, and made a solemn pact that trespassers of the line would be greatly punished. Then we set about building our own respective forts to shelter from the barrages we knew were inevitable. I wanted a tall front wall to my fort that would keep me protected, and that was where most of my time was occupied. But Uncle Picket was more focused on his ammunition, and after he had built a meager shelter he set about building caches for his snowballs.
"It wasn't long before Uncle Picket declared enough time had passed to allot for fort building, and launched a snowball at me while I was making final touches to my wall. He missed me, and I quickly ducked inside to hastily make a few snowballs of my own. We threw snow weapons back and forth at each other for a solid fifteen minutes. It was close until the very end, when Uncle Picket cheated because he found a few rocks on his side of the battlefield and incorporated them into a snowball. That was how he breached my wall." She shook her head, grinning fondly at the memory.
"Once my wall was breached, I tried patching it up a bit but soon gave up. My brother kept pelting my attempts at fixing it. I was just about to abandon the fort when my father came over from across the meadow. He was approaching from Uncle Picket's side, no doubt to check on how we were getting along, but we both instantly viewed him as a common enemy. We forsook our war, bonding together over this new foe. Uncle Picket quickly brought over his remaining snowballs, and I began knocking the outer chunks of my wall into smaller pieces to use as ammunition of my own. And then…" she paused for dramatic effect, "we opened fire."
"Was Grandmother Whittle expecting it?" Maggie asked.
"We stunned him at first," Heather said, interpreting her daughter's muddled speech. "I'm sure he expected a snowball or two, but our combined forces were too formidable. Until I ran out of packed wall chunks to throw. He had ducked for cover in Uncle Picket's abandoned fort, and then he advanced, crossing the border line. We stood our ground and threw the last of our snowballs before he grabbed us one by one and threw us down in the snow. And THAT began the wrestling match. We came into the house two hours later, panting and cold, but very happy. My dress was soaked because Uncle Picket managed to slip snow down my back. But I had rolled him in the snow after that, so we were even. And we all agreed that nothing could rival that infamous day."
Heather smiled, gazing into the fire. Hanna was now dozing with her head on Heather's lap. Smalls had one eye closed, but a wide smile was on his face. Maggie sighed and looked up at her. "Do you think, when the wind stops, we could have a snow match too?" She asked.
"I don't see why not," Heather laughed. "If the snow sticks. You'll have to go easy on your sister though, until she's old enough to fight back properly."
"Okay," Maggie agreed. Then she looked up at her mother again. "Can you tell a story about being a doctor next?"
