The Tale of the Winter King and the Spring Queen

Chapter 1

(Lovely Art By EarthGoddessReads)

The land was blanketed in white, trees bare and the wind moving the branches of the trees that keep their leaves. Snow falls disturbing the even layer that had fallen.

From afar, a man walks. His footsteps crunched the snow. His clothes were light for the weather, his skin pale and his eyes reflected the light. The clouds were thick.

As he continues his walk going to the temporary ice palace he makes, his footsteps are filled in with ice.

Everything about his appearance is pale, except for his eyes. His eyes are colorful like a rainbow after a rain shower.

He goes by many names and titles.

He brings shivers to every living being he walks past. He is cold and his heart is solid ice like a diamond. His touch could freeze anything should he will it.

He has close ties with the god of death, especially close to through who die with cool skin.

He is the Winter King.

—
Primordial spirits and Gods, servants of these beings so the world can remain in balance, and something that humans pray for.

Seasons have their deities and he was one such deity.

Douma of the winter.

He is the one who sees the blizzards and the hibernation of life that is vibrant during any part of the year.

During the time of the year he wasn't wandering upon the earth, freezing the dirt and bringing goosebumps, he was in the land of the dead. The underworld keeps the chill and place void of warmth.

The spirits that have passed wander in ghostly forms and seek those who had arrived before or after them.

He would watch sometimes, wondering what it's like to have that connection.

Like what the God of the Moon and Sun have Kokushibo and Yoriichi. Kokushibo is an often sight that Douma sees as he passes through the night sky.

There would be a clash of the brothers during the solar eclipse. For a brief short time, they are together again before Kokushibo pulls away and the sun brightens the earth once more. The lunar eclipse is when Kokushibo glares across the world to where Yoriichi works.

This all before he is the God of Summer, his power strong that he can pull double duty.

Must be nice because the gods like him are honored with many followers.

Douma has his followers, though they are few and are usually a branch of the cult of the gods of Death.

No one truly appreciates the wonderland of ice and snow. Cold winds that blow through every branch and crevice.

Sometimes he would sit on the cliff that overlooks where his palace currently lays. Kokushibo's moonlight needs to shine a little for his eyes to see how far the white snow goes or where it touches.

When the sun rises, his skin's thin layer of frost goes away. He rather stays in the shade where his skin doesn't get too warm.

Unlike his season, where it can be still and quiet, Douma was quite the talker. Like the howling winds or avalanches that come when he summons more snow than the mountains can take. He is like the yapping wolves that hunt their prey through the forest.

The main god of death Muzan hates his chatter, often sending him to talk to Hantengu and his sons.

When he rises from the underworld in mid-fall, wanting to start early on making the land cold, he would run into the god of Autumn.

"Akaza-dono! How is everything?" Akaza had the patterning of a poison mushroom. Pink hair and tattoos are colored like charcoal. His eyes seem to dim like a fire dying to hot coals and ash as Douma comes to talk to the deity at night. His steps spread frost as he takes long strides after the god.

He would wave to the god of fallen leaves, Senjuro waving back shyly as his brother watches from a nearby camp sight, his heart like that of the flames that keep the people around the fire warm.

Kyojuro was bright and even flared up at the sight of the two passing his camp, greeting them with gusto. Douma waves, his gesture bringing a cold wind as he does.

Douma would leave Akaza be when the sun came, the evidence of his presence gone when Yoriichi took over the skies and warmed the land more than Douma cared for. Often sitting on mountains or going to the underworld as he waits for nightfall. Sending chilly breezes to earth to let the people know that winter would be there soon. To gather their crops, ready their cattle, and chop up enough for the upcoming snow days.

He would have a month to himself, so lonely and with only a few active spirits, doing other gods' duties like that of death and storms that come.

Then the sun is bright and the streams begin to thaw out.

The ice around him cracks when a bird lands on a branch above him, loosening the snow and making it fall on him. He isn't offended or angry as he watches as he knows what is to come.

The bird begins to sing, followed by another and another. Some animals are popping from their dens at the sound of life.

Some snow begins to fall when in a distance he hears the sound of crunching snow. He makes his way to it only to stop at the sight of a boar mother and babies making their way through the snow. The layer is much too deep that the mother is digging a path for her little ones to trot behind her.

He watches, letting them pass, and waits.

Waiting as the crunching footsteps come and he stands by the tree waiting. Patient-like ice melting on a cloudy day.

Then from the tree, where a squirrel had planted an acorn in an odd spot, bursts, and out comes a stem that gently kisses him on the nose.

Douma after the weeks of being alone with his thoughts cracks a smile, his eyes twinkling in the morning light.

From around the corner steps a beautiful and wonderful woman with blue hair like the purest of water and emerald as green as the leaves at the peak of bloom.

Douma's smile widens, stepping back and offering to lead as from where she steps, his snow melts away slowly, leading to green to grow.

The woman smiles, content with simple walking in the quiet morning with the Winter King.

She was Kotoha, the Spring Queen and bringer of life to the cold landscape he had made.

She was the only one to cause his frozen heart to gain a crack.