At first, she did not realize the curse she had brought upon her child. She was fair, her eyes were silver like the stars, her hair was deep onyx like winters' night, her skin was purest white and cold as snow. But in the suddenness of a single moment, she realized. The child's lips were red, not as blood, but with blood, and hid teeth of unnatural sharpness.
Horrified with her mistake, the queen set out to find some way, any way, to undo what she had done to her daughter. She spoke with her husband, king Emmet. She studied and searched and spoke with the greatest users of magic, all in vain. She died a mere three years after the birth of her daughter, exhausted with guilt, grief, and horror.
Because of her belief that this monster could not be her daughter, the Queen had not given the child a name. Names have power. They add shape to a new and inexperienced soul. They provide a guide and compass to the growing identity. They are deeply important in determining how the young child sees the world and herself. For the queen to leave the girl unnamed was a terrible mistake, for it meant that others would give her a name, as they spoke of her. And speak of her, they did. Tucked away in dark corners, full of nervous looks and hushed voices, they spoke of the child, in their old and flowing language, and called her after that which made her different and dangerous.
They called her "drink". But not all were fluent in their language, and as the rumors spread, without translation, that verb became a noun. A word and curse you are familiar with. And thus, the legend of Vampire, was born.
King Emmet, in a desperate attempt to forestall the dangers that such a name would bring, took to calling her Snow, and the court gradually followed suite, but it was too little, too late. The name of Vampir had already chosen her, and nothing could take it from her.