"Prince?" the man of pixels asked from his side of the netscreen. Lounging across his throne with propped up feet and back pressed comfortably against his right arm rest, Thorne ignored the pestering of the surreal diplomat. His attention focused on the lapel of his black boots hoping the plain man would grow tired and end their pointless conversation.

The one growing agitated, however, was Thorne's royal advisor who tried desperately not to ring his prince's thin neck. As an android, it would be all too easy. Behind the distortion of the screen, he loomed with a stiff figure trapped in his black suit appearing much too formal for someone like him; a wild beast tamed enough to be calm in his cage, but only just.

Thorne could see why he had no real name, only the title given by his comrades during his fearsome days as a military general. They called him the Rampion, a pathetic title in Thorne's opinion, for reasons the advisor expertly ducked out of answering.

"Pardon me, Advisor Torin," Ram — as Thorne called him — interrupted, walking through the COM link to stand beside the young prince. "Perhaps we can continue this conversation when we arrive, two days from now. The prince is a bit . . . distracted by the awful news of the King and Queen's passing."

Thorne snorted under his breath and grumbled a rude comment regarding the departed's eldest daughter. Although the advisor across the link was spared hearing the sarcastic insult, the one at his side cringed at the words. Slyly, the android elbowed him painfully in the chest as a silent warning to keep his mouth shut.

"I'm sorry?" Advisor Torin strained to hear.

Smiling with a wide, political look, Ram saved the prince's rude outburst. "What Prince Thorne means to say, is how concerned we are of the mysterious attributes of their deaths. Are you sure there are no other details you can share with us?"

Iceland's royal advisor's face twisted in distraught. "Unfortunately not. As to the nature of the attack, we are just as clueless as you are. All we can say for certain is that their deaths were no accident."

"I'm terribly sorry to hear that. Please send our condolences to the princesses and our gratefulness to be invited in their time of need."

With a bow rivaling those of a dancer's grace, both advisors watched the pixels of the link fade away into nothing. When the screen disappeared, Ram's pleasant demeanor dropped as he turned to face Thorne, eyes piercing with flames of rage that barely reached his thin smile.

"What were you thinking?!" he asked in the tone Thorne knew came before a lecture. He opened his mouth to defend himself — or more than likely protest like a child — But Ram never gave him the chance. "No wait, let me guess, you weren't thinking."

Taken aback by his advisor's surprising level of anger, Thorne stumbled for a clever retort. "I was thinking — thinking of how awful it will be to see that dry cloth again."

"Princess Cinder is your fiancé and soon to be Iceland's queen."

Thorne rolled his eyes at Ram's correction, seeing no difference whether he used her name or a bland object to compare her to. Every time they met was as boring as sitting in a ship's cockpit without the keys. Polite small talk in the presence of others, thin smiles while each counted down the seconds until the meeting was over, and the occasional quip when they were alone. Other than that, the two resorted to ignoring each other.

"Iceland's resources are vital for Greenland to survive." Ram jumped into his lecture as Thorne tuned in and out as he pleased. It was not a speech he had never heard before – by the same man even. " . . . If you recall we lost half our people to Queen Levana's second wave."

The words forcefully thrust him back into focus and dropped the temperature of the room ten degrees. Thorne remembered — he would never forget his parents' tales of the horrid event that happened when he was only an infant. They served as the scary stories told as he was tucked into bed, and the cause of the nightmares that kept him up for years afterward.

Freezing the world into a solid block was only the first attack the Snow Queen had planned for the Earth, unbeknownst to its inhabitants. Greenland was lucky enough to survive; the northern half froze over nearly to the Arctic Circle. Breaking off into a floating glacier, they lost over half their homeland and people to the retched fate.

Thinking the worst was over, Greenland's people let their guard down to go about their daily lives as always. Only days later, they watched the streets line with bodies from noon to night. The deaths puzzled the nation – and their nation was not the only one affected. One third of the population had committed suicide before they realized who was behind the attacks.

Queen Levana had somehow used her powers to persuade people through different forms of technology. Every day she convinced them to find new ways to kill themselves in mass amounts – not painful or torturous, just efficient. After discovering her interference, programming prevented any further deaths and implemented technology regulations worldwide – at least what was left of the world.

"I understand that." Thorne said darkly, the memories still freshly pestering his head. "But I don't see how marrying Princess Cinder is going to bring those people back to life."

Finished pointlessly arguing with the boy, Ram let out a huff of air before strutting down the long corridor of the throne room. He had to program their ship's navigator before the young pilot could get his hands on it and send them halfway around the world. Knowing his prince, he would certainly try any means to avoid going to meet his fiancé.

A more pressing matter weighed on the android's mind as he found his way to the docking bay. Hearing of King Garan and Queen Adri's deaths shocked even his artificial circuits; so young, so loved. The limited details he was told only made the questions he tried deciphering grow in number. Found dead in their own country where the people loved them like gods? It did not process in his wired skull.

With barely any information to work on, he could not make conclusions mindlessly. His suspicions were faint, but firm. They would stay trapped within the confinements of his internal system, never being spoken, until they proved to have some merit. He would never allow them to be forgotten, as his prince headed toward the very country where unidentified murders were on the loose.

Thanks to everyone who is staying with the story! I hope you're liking it!

Book One only has a few chapters left so I'm hoping to get them all up at once!

Lady Jo Editor Extraordinaire: Thanks immensely for your review! Did you like your answer? ;)

Malika DaughterOfWisdom: I'm glad you like it! On your other note, were you referring to Andersen's tale? Or Levana? Either way I have to agree.

I have a new story up! Only the prologue has been posted, but it circles around Wolf in a dystopian future with a supernatural twist. If your interested, its called Hybrid and I can guarantee all the main Lunar Chronicle characters will make an appearance.

Thanks - to all - for reading and please review!