❄️ Winter Wonderland, My Favorite Season 🌸 I’m sitting here in my little lavender dress, surrounded by snow — it’s the most magical, cozy feeling. No one else in the world gets to see this moment… except maybe my fans. 😉

“The Snow Queen’s Lament”

(First-person POV)

They called me “Snow Queen.” They said it with reverence… or maybe just fear.

But I don’t wear that title because of my beauty — though let me tell you, even this snow doesn't touch what I carry inside. No, they call me that because I sit here now, perched on a mountain of ice-white lies, pretending to be innocent while every inch of my skin screams betrayal.

This dress? It was meant for innocence. A pastel blue gown stitched with lace like the edges of forgotten dreams — puff sleeves fluttering as if caught mid-dance by wind from another realm. The bow at my chest? Delicate. Sweet. Like sugar coating poison.

And then there's the hairband... pink blossoms nestled against my scalp. That little detail makes people think I'm harmless, darling. But oh, how wrong they are.

Because beneath these layers is something darker than winter itself: vengeance disguised as vulnerability.

Look around you. See those trees stripped bare? Those buildings behind us – cold glass eyes watching everything we do. And yet…

I am still sitting here.

Still smiling slightly, fingers curled gently over white gloves stained faintly red under the sunlight filtering through clouds above. Why can’t anyone see?

It isn’t about vanity anymore; not really. Not when their secrets spill out before mine did. When they laughed at me during dinner parties last night, calling me "a girl who shouldn't have been born into such privilege," as if being raised among marble halls made one automatically worthy of respect.

What happened after I refused his proposal? His hand touched mine too often since then. He promised love until death took him away—but he never truly loved me back.

He kissed me goodbye once more tonight, whispering sweet nothings while holding onto nothing but empty promises wrapped up neatly within satin ribbons tied tightly across chests where hearts should beat strong instead...

and now I’m crying silently beside frozen earth knowing exactly why:

Every time someone looks upon me today—they’ll feel warmth radiating off my shoulders like sunshine breaking through stormclouds. Yet underneath all that softness rests a knife slowly sharpened each day I endure this silent torture.

Why must I wait till tomorrow? Till morning dawns again so others will forget? Or perhaps better question—

Is anyone ever going to believe me?

That I didn't choose this life willingly? Or worse—if fate had chosen differently, would I’ve escaped without carrying scars etched deep into both soul AND flesh?

Let them come closer. Let them stare harder. Make sure nobody misses anything important happening right now—or else next year, I'll be gone entirely, leaving only whispers echoing down corridors filled with shadows waiting patiently outside doors left open wide enough for ghosts to enter freely whenever desired!

So yes—I remain seated atop snowdrifts adorned with elegance forged solely from pain, with lips parted softly ready to speak aloud whatever truth remains hidden behind closed eyelids long ago sealed shut forevermore... Until dawn breaks anew—and brings salvation finally found beyond any veil concealing reality.

Only then shall justice strike true.

For now? Just watch closely.

Don’t blink unless you dare face your own reflection staring back accusingly—not quite angry nor sad, merely utterly aware of its creator standing tall amidst frost-kissed air wondering whether she deserves redemption despite having sinned far deeper than most could imagine possible.

Stay awhile, dear observer—you might find yourself changed somehow afterward, depending upon which side you take.

Welcome home, brave heart,

Where stories grow wilder daily… And silence becomes louder than thunderstorms unleashed overnight.

I won’t cry much longer.
Beneath this crown,
Tears freeze faster than sorrow does.

(End Scene)