Her white dress trailed down onto the cold grass – the garden was draped in a mantle of snow; it was deceivingly soft, and sparkled delicately in the morning winter sun.

At one twitch of her hand, the hidden daggers of the blizzard would rise; the gentle glimmer would turn into a fierce gleam, capable of blinding anyone foolish enough to look into its monochromatic depths.

Her features were feline – sharp sapphire orbs created a stark contrast to her ashen lashes as they darted here and there, silently taking in the details of her familiar prison.

Yes, she was trapped here – trapped, until the first day of winter. Then, she would be unleashed and the sickeningly warm world would feel her wrath.

Absentmindedly, she stroked a velvety rose, admiring its burgundy depths as she thought glacial thoughts about her freedom.

She took one more look at the flower before an icy smile curled her pallid lips.

With false tenderness, she stroked the rose, crusting it over in a coat of silvery frost.

True beauty.