Snow

// Prologue //

The kingdom was overthrown in the night.

Sophia was ripped from her bed as she slept, an abrupt scream leaving her mouth as she was pulled off the bed my one leg and harshly hit the ground with her head. She clawed at the ground, trying to find any sort of friction but instead, she was met with smooth marble. Sobs and bloodcurdling wails were the only sounds audible from the castle, mainly emitting from Sophia herself. She was held down on her father's throne as the intruder ripped at her skirts with his blade, carelessly slicing her skin as he did so. The others laughed, watching as they poured themselves beer and boasted about their kills and the head of the King resting on one of their spikes. Sophia tried to struggle, but the man was too strong.

   "The noble virgin princess, being defiled by a mere stable boy. Who would of imagined the day?" He shouted before thrusting himself into her, time and time again until he satisfied himself. Sophia was left dizzy and barely conscious with every thrust, her head hit the stone framework of her father's throne, leaving a trail of blood dripping down her forehead. "Who's next?" He asked, each man then taking their turn on the young girl until she was left motionless on the cold, hard ground with over a hundred men's seed dripping down her legs. She could not move for what felt like days however, they were only mere hours before she began to crawl out of the castle. One of the army men went to stop her but the leader stopped him - the girl would probably die outside in the harsh winter anyway, and she had fulfilled her purpose, so there was no reason for her to be kept captive. Once she pulled herself to her feet, she attempted to run away from the castle but stumbled and fell into the cold, deep snow. Although she did no longer had the energy to walk, she use roots of plant and rocks to drag herself away from the castle and into the bitter forest.

Once she found herself deep enough into the forest, she lay there for what became hours into days. That was, until a stranger came along. A lady concealed in a cloak who stood at 6"2 and had hands as white as the snow surrounding them knelt by her side. She placed a hand to the girls' forehead, feeling the life draining out of her - it was a wonder she lasted so long.

   "Perfect." The lady whispered. "You'd be perfect." The lady bit down on her own wrist, drawing blood, before making the semi-conscious girl drink it.

 

 

The girl awoke, two days later, underground with an unquenchable desire for blood.