Perhaps – no – most assuredly, it is I who placed myself in this position. I do not speak of ruling the queendom. No. That is my birthright. That you don’t see a throne next to mine is my doing.

When I was born a girl I was expected to marry. And marry well. From the age of four, suitors were brought to me. Old men! Can you imagine? Vows were to be exchanged for titles given. Oddly, every single one of these suitors was deemed not fit by my father, or fate took them another direction. Some in not so pleasant directions.

When I was twenty years old and started refusing suitors, my father would not speak to me for three months. It was quite possibly the downfall of his health. You can blame that on me too, if you wish.

When I was twenty years old, there was a new stable lad employed to work with our finest horses – mine included. The lad was my age, and while he showed proper deference to me, he also showed me friendship, which no other servant had the courage to do. He would prepare my horse and sometimes we would have long discussions about life. Ha! What do two twenty-year-old children know about life? He treated me as a person, not as a queen-in-waiting. He did not let me get away with much. My attitude is often times haughty. I make no apologies for it. I am Queen and at that time I was queen-in-training. I must be strong at all times. I must not and will not entertain fools.

But when I was around him, I did not feel like a queen-in-training, and it was rather difficult to act haughty. I felt like who I imagined I always should feel like as a child, when I dreamt of having another life. A simple life, a life raising chickens and cattle and having a husband, friend and lover in one person, someone who could understand me, and would want to try. And children. We would have three children. They would laugh and play in the grass, their cheeks rosy from exertion, their tiny legs traveling as fast as they could to catch the chickens, and we would delight in the sight. My husband and I.

I began having the same fantastical daydreams when I was around this lad, not just when I was alone. I watched when he would interact with others, and I had people observe him when I could not. He never raised his voice in anger to anyone. He was as calm as the river on a late summer evening. The aura around him was yellow, just like the sunset on that late summer eve. His hair was flaxen and soft, I just knew it. I wished to touch it, but I dared not. It would be most improper, and dangerous for him. His eyes were dark blue and smiling. Always smiling. They twinkled with mischief more than not. When we were near the horses and I could freely be myself, I never felt more alive.

Shortly after I turned twenty-one, for several days I did not see the stable lad. My concern was that he had become ill. I was mistaken and quite pleased to see him when he returned. My ladies-in-waiting helped me into my favorite dress: the light blue silk. It was far simpler than anything I would wear for official business, but it was perfect for talking with the stable lad. I made my way to the barn and saw him brushing the horses. I could feel my face light up as if the sun itself were grazing my skin. I greeted the lad and asked him if he was well. He said he was quite well. He had very recently exchanged wedding vows. That was why he was not at the stables.

This was the first time I had to use the Ice Queen façade. And I was yet to be Queen. I congratulated him and quickly made an excuse to part company. The façade wouldn’t hold much longer, and I could not bear to be seen as the soft creature underneath. As soon as I turned away, I could feel my countenance change into one of grief and broken-heartedness. My eyes shed tears even as I told them not to. He called out to me, but I wouldn’t turn around. I could not bear it.

I spent the rest of the day and night alone in my chambers. No one was permitted. Of course by now you must’ve guessed: I was in love with the lad. He had never once mentioned he was betrothed, and if he had, what could I have done with that information? I was meant to marry above him. Millions of my tears would not have changed anything. But knowing he was married made the realization that he could never be married to me more pronounced. I wished I were his wife. I wondered what she looked like. I never asked anything about her, even though I saw the lad often at the stables. We talked and joked after my initial heartbreak had healed a bit, but there was this thing in between us now, a barrier. I didn’t want it there, but a wife is hard to remove. A queen-in-waiting impossible to get out of. The situation was ill-fated.

I became Queen at twenty-five, just as the stable lad became a father for the first time. My father‘s efforts to find me a suitable match were unsuccessful. I decided no one was good enough and I held to that belief. I disappointed my father and I did it intentionally.

When I was thirty, his second child was born. I saw him still, at the stables, and we spoke as we always had. We never spoke of his wife or of his children. It is not that I didn’t care, it is because I cared too much. To know about his life would reopen wounds that were almost – but not quite – scars.

I have recently learned that his wife has run off with a wealthy man. The children are grown, the lad now a man of my own age. You may be asking yourself, Dear Reader, “What now will the Ice Queen do? She never married. She rules the queendom fairly, but suffers no fools. She surrounds herself with birds and other creatures, including her beloved horses, and she is old enough to make her own decisions regarding her own queendom and her own person.”

Let me tell you then. I am sure you want to know. And even if you don’t, I am going to tell you, because I am Queen.

One crisp morning, I walked alone to the stables. I found my lad filing the horses’ hooves. His expression was forlorn, as one would expect. He looked up at me with teary eyes that made the blue stand out even more. He was much older, we both were now. I could not stop myself from crying with him. He hunched over, embarrassed by his tears and apologized. He did not curtsy, and I was glad for it. I took his hand and held it between my own two hands. We had never touched in this way before. Yes, Reader, it was still not appropriate. But I am Queen, and I rule the queendom.

What do you think happened next, Dear Reader?

I will tell you. Not because I am Queen, but because I am a woman. And I know you want to know. But let’s keep it between us.

In the next moment, I saw yellow, like the sunset on a summer eve, I felt soft hair under my hands, and a gentle touch on my cheek. Right before I closed my eyes, I saw dark blue, like the blue of gently rolling river waves with a strong current underneath that cannot be seen, only felt.

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{This is my submission for No Theme Thursday (3/21/24) – thanks once again for the art inspiration, Kevin!}