Few years had passed since then. A few days after Snow White's ninth birthday, Norma stood before her husband, who sat on the throne, staring back at her. They had ordered all servants to leave, including Dhara, the queen's favorite lady-in-waiting, in order to finally resolve a certain issue that had arisen a few months earlier regarding the princess's destiny.
Harry was determined to promise his young daughter to his good friend, King Ulrik, who would take her as his wife as soon as possible. However, when such an absurdity reached the queen's ears, who was aware of the advanced age of that man compared to Snow's, she hurriedly went to meet her husband:
"How dare you decide the future of my daughter behind my back, without first obtaining my consent?"
"What is this, woman? Then I return the question to you, how dare you confront me in this way? Victória Adelina Dahlia is also my daughter, she belongs to me."
Ah, how the queen hated it when her husband referred to the little princess, excluding the first two names that Norma had chosen for her. "She may be your blood daughter, but you never allowed yourself to be seen as a father figure. Therefore, you have no right to determine her destiny for your own benefit."
"I am the king of this realm, my words are law, and everything in it, including you, my queen, belongs solely to me." The monarch rose in fury, raising his voice. "Just as I can decide the fate of our daughter, I can also decide what will become of you if you dare inquire about matters that are none of your concern."
For a few minutes, the queen remained silent, staring into space and reflecting on those words. She asked her own heart how she had ever fallen in love with that man; he was now a complete stranger to her. He was so different from when she first met him, a true gentleman. She felt loved by him, barely able to wait for the times they would have to themselves, sharing moments that faded in her heart, because as much as they believed it would be forever, the foundation had been shattered since the day Norma gave birth to a beautiful girl. Things would be so different if the queen had borne a boy; perhaps the man would have loved his daughter if he had then conceived her. Perhaps she would be daddy's little princess.
But there was no justification for those cruelties; nothing justified the monster the king was becoming, nothing justified that coldness and resentment. And Norma knew she had once loved him, loved that man for who he was, for the charming person who stole her heart one evening. She believed it was mutual, that he felt the same for her, yet how could she believe that after years of neglect and indifference? And then the why came to light, something that, as inheritance, would haunt her daughter.
"I was a fool to claim you for myself." Harry was seated on the throne again, resting his elbow on the golden arm of the seat and holding his head as if he had a headache. "Paying fortunes for a graceful face. Oh, how I let myself be carried away by you, Norma."
"What are you saying?" She was astonished, taking a few steps back in surprise as a consequence.
"If you want to know the truth, sweet and beautiful Norma," there was irony in his voice, "I no longer hold any love for you. I never did, not for you, but for your lovely stature, for your beautiful face and maddening curves. That was what I loved about you, caring little for the rest. And you did give me beautiful children, indeed you did, the most beautiful child I have ever seen in all my life. But what good is such an angelic creature to me when what I truly desire is an heir?"
Hearing that confession no longer had much effect on Norma's heart. In fact, it was what she needed, the end of everything she once felt for that tyrant. Indeed, she was a beautiful woman, with sweet blue eyes like the sky, hair as black as ravens, and fair skin, her stature well-defined. There were so many suitors, so many princes madly in love with that beautiful princess, but Harry was the one who valued her the most monetarily, the one who provided the most wealth to her father.
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Reflection of Beauty - Ice Crystals' Prelude
Fantastik"It is usual for a good story to begin at an important moment, perhaps the apex of our life, but everything that has a middle has a beginning, and until you reach the end, it is important to understand why things happened that way. And that was the...
