Winter.
It was Princess Erika's favourite season. She knew that not all countries were able to experience this festive season, and so she considered herself lucky. There were many other reasons as to why it was her favourite season.
Firstly, it was cold, and so wrapping oneself in a thick duvet was considered practical. Secondly, it was perfect to indulge oneself in a hot beverage such as hot chocolate (her parents didn't let her drink coffee). Thirdly, due to heavy snowfall, her school was either closed or lessons were cancelled. But for a child, the most awaited Christmas present did not come from their friends or their parents, but from Mother Nature - snow. It rarely snowed on Christmas day, but just in case it did, Erika would wait for hours by the window sill, just staring at the sky, never faltering a blink. So, when she saw the first snowflake to land on the window, a flow of adrenaline would course through her veins; she would be outside in an instant. But for any other winter morning it was her usual custom to wake up early, run downstairs, and sit by the warm fireplace, and every now and then glancing at the window to check if it was snowing.
But she was twelve years old. The exciting buzz that shot up her spine was cut off long ago. She did not know when it became less excitable, or how she gradually lost interest. Maybe seeing snow for the first time was like getting a new toy: you have be on the constant lookout for it, or else a fortunate somebody will steal it from your eyes. But on the circumstance that you do see it, you suddenly feel relieved because all you would do for the rest of the day is play with it... until you realise that you would have to see it every other day, and it's not as interesting as seeing and playing with it for the first time.
The young princess tiptoed her way down the cold staircase and into the low-lit living room. Ebony furniture could be spotted in the large room in all places, from the arched fireplace to the bookcases that lined side by side against the walls, packed with dusty, antique books. It made the room dark and gloomy. There was a small but comfortable divan in front of the fireplace, to which she approached it and gracefully sat on it.
There was a knock at the door.
Irritated from being disturbed, Erika sulkily got up for her sitting position and headed towards the front door. Who would come here at six o'clock in the morning?! She unlocked the door and opened it with caution. She remembered Father telling her stories about this colossal man, who would knock on people's doors and say he was a distant relative. The man would act all happy and compassionate, embracing the victim and telling the victim just how he longed to see them. And, if by chance the victim plays along, the man would enter the house, lock the door, and everything would end terribly (she did not know the details). Of course, it was only a myth.
The princess was caught be surprise. The door flung open due to the violent gust of wind. Her surprise grew even more when she saw who was behind the door.
"My dear cousin, are you well?"
Ivan!
"Yes, very well," Erika replied. She immediately shut the door and lead Ivan to the living room. Honestly, at the moment she saw him she wanted to hug him and never let go - but obviously as a princess she must act refined - for fear that Ivan may judge her. She watched as he collapsed onto the divan, his cheeks were red and his breathing was fast, as if he had been running away from something.
"Why are you here?" She then asked. "Not that it's weird. Well, it is. It's six o'clock in the morning."
After getting sufficient rest, Ivan propped himself up, using his sturdy arms to support his weight. "Don't tell me you cannot see the storm outside? I was looking for shelter, and luckily I passed by your house." He lifted his chin up and motioned it to the window beside him.
Erika approached the window. It was true. Looking out she could see the wooden fence outside shaking frantically, and in the distance, multiple trees swaying their bodies erratically, with some even bending far in a 90 degree angle.
"Do you know the Prince of Denmark?"
Caught be surprise at the random question, Erika stood still.
"No. I do not. Who is he?"
Erika waited a while for a reply. She actually knew a small amount of information about the Prince, due to her father having some sort of interest in the Danish kingdom (she did not know what - Denmark seemed like an ordinary and boring place to her). She also knew (from eavesdropping on her father's conversations with the Danish king) that the Prince was a few years older than her. Erika turned to look at Ivan. Now that she thought about it, Ivan may be around the Prince's age.
"You still have not told me who the Prince-"
Without warning, she was pulled down to Ivan's lap. Erika blushed at this.
"Remember when you said you wanted to be a queen like your mother?"
Erika nodded. "Last year. I told you. As my birthday wish." She completely forgot about the unanswered previous question.
"Indeed you did-
Ivan smiled and placed his gloved hand by her cheek.
- and one day you will become a queen. I will do everything I can to make it happen. I promise you,"
He leaned over, and, after pulling the girl by the chin, locked his icy lips with her blazing ones.
At the unexpected contact, Erika's bright purple eyes expanded in an expression of bewilderment, and she tried to resist; but when Ivan noticed this he only further deepened the kiss. They battled over domination, as if the contrasting temperatures battled to overpower one another, like watching a large lump of snow slowly melt in the arms of a low flame.
In a rush to catch some air, Erika hastily broke the kiss, shying away as her cheeks radiated a pinkish glow. She reached up to touch her now moist and temperate lips. At first, she was at a loss of words. It was all too wild, and random, and spontaneous. It was her first kiss. Her first kiss! And she shared it with Ivan! Her cousin! Something felt very wrong to her: Erika had always thought the act of kissing was solely performed between people who were in love. Like Mother and Father. Or Romeo and Juliet.
"What was that for?" Erika breathed, still avoiding Ivan's face.
"To seal the promise," Ivan replied plainly.
"Promise?" The seven letter word resonated in her head. "I don't understand."
Ivan chuckled at the look of obscurity in Erika's face, and in a low whisper, asked, "You do want me to keep my promise, da? Of becoming queen? I also do not want you to forget."
She thought for a moment. She was not sure, but thought he may have intended to perform a sweet act, like those moments in the movies where the man would be off in a long, adventurous journey, but before he left he would give the woman a memento, such as in a form of a necklace, or a bracelet, or a ring; and he would tell her that she should think of him every day. Except the memento was in a form of a kiss. There was no love involved. Only promises. Oh, how ignorant was she to think it was out of love...
Erika nodded slowly at the other's question, and then gradually quickened the pace as if she was suddenly struck with understanding (in reality she did not understand).
Ivan smiled and once again he captured the girl's lips again; he was again in control and Erika could not do anything but submit to the foreign feeling. Erika muffled a moan. Ivan parted from the intense kiss and they simultaneously breathed out, looked down, a fog casting over their reddened faces.
'This is a promise.'
When Erika turned to look at Ivan, she saw that he had laid down on the divan. Whatever Ivan meant, Erika knew what she did was not wrong. Because Ivan was helping her to become queen. And she had to remember his promise. There a long silence in the room. Not much could be heard but the blurry sound of the wind still raging outside and the burning of logs in the fireplace, as well as the sizzling noise of the embers that desperately tried to escape its wrath.