Royal Blood

Little Snow-White Pt. I

THE KINGDOM OF Vemoire was dying and all the queen did was simply sewing by the window.

But, how could she not? After all, it was not like it is her fault the kingdom had not an heir.

And yet, the people pushed her anyways. They say, "The fate of the kingdom depends on you, and only you, Queen Vivian."

Besides, sewing relaxed her.

She sewed a tapestry of the royal family, plus one person. The first person was her husband, the king, Cyriac. The next was her, Queen Vivian. And last was the child they did not have.

Vivian rested her head on the black ebony frame of the window. It was wide open. It was winter, but there was none of that terrifying blizzard yet. Snowflakes were simply falling down like feathers from heaven.

Vivian was wonderstrucked at the sight so much, that she pricked her finger on the sewing needle and did not flinch at all at the stinging pain.

Instead, she watched as her blood dripped down the window and onto the snow.

One drop.

Two drops.

And three drops of blood spreaded through the white snow.

Vivian sighed. "If only I had a child as white as snow, as red as blood, and as black as the wood in this frame," she weeped. "The child would have been the perfect heir."

❇️

Vivian kneeled down in front of a lush rose bush. The plant had grown on the exact same spot where she dropped her blood by the window on the snow. It had been a month until she could finally muster up the courage walk up to it and investigate.

So, obviously, the plant must had some sort of magical properties to it, right?

Vivian cried for the umpteenth time tonight. Between her sobs, she wept, "If only I had a child as white as snow, as red as blood, and as black as the wood in the window frame, the child would have been the perfect heir."

Suddenly, out of nowhere, the rose bush started to tremble and sway. Petals started to fall. The bush shook harder and harder, Vivian covered her head with her arms, shutting her eyes ever so tightly.

And then it all stopped. Vivian looked up to the bush, but it was not there.

It was replaced by a girl. She was not a baby, but not an adult either. She wore a black robe and was sitting on the snow where the rose bush was supposed to be.

"I heard your wish," the girl said in a soft, soothing, and angel-like voice.  "You are longing for a child."

"Wh-who are you?" asked Vivian, her eyes wide.

"I am a rose faerie. I was born of blood and snow. I sprout as a rose bush, but I can morph into a human form at will."

"And... Do you grant wishes?"

"Only pure ones that come from the heart." She smiled. "Just like yours."

Vivian nearly cried of joy and relief. "What do I call you, dear fae?"

The girl thought for a while. After a moment, she said, "My name is Vermeil."

"Then, I would like to wish for something, Little Vermeil."

"Tell me your deepest desire, Your Majesty."

"I would like to have an heir," Vivian demanded. "A child as white as snow, as red as blood, and as black as the wood in the window frame."