Each year, near the end of December, the royal families of two neighboring kingdoms gathered to share a holiday supper. It was a tradition as old as memory itself, dating back to a time when even the current rulers had been but carefree children - a custom born to preserve the alliance between their lands.
This winter was exceptionally beautiful. Snow covered the vast forests and mountains like a pale veil, mirroring Princess Margaretha’s fair complexion. It was here, amid this enchanting scenery, that this year’s celebrations took place - at her father’s castle, the seat of the Fair King.
They all sat at a massive table heavy with warm dishes, cold platters, desserts, and an abundance of drink. The adults were engrossed in formal discussions and polite exchanges: politics, the future of their kingdoms, and the matter of their heirs - all the tedious concerns of adulthood, still of little interest to the young Princess Margaretha.
Her seat was set slightly to the side of the long table. Opposite her sat Prince Charming, the son of the Great King and the Grand Queen of the neighboring Everland. They had known one another since childhood, their earliest memories together shared among games and laughter in castle courtyards and hidden corridors.
Princess Margaretha - or Snow White, as many called her - had changed greatly since those days. She had come of age, standing tall now, her features refined into those of a young woman rather than a girl. Graceful and poised, she carried herself with quiet confidence, her figure shaped elegantly beneath the fine lines of her gown. Her hips had grown wide, her waist slim - even more so with the corset she wore - and her bosom ample.
She was too mature for childish play, yet not quite ready to concern herself with the weighty matters of state. And she was certainly old enough to feel a new kind of curiosity stir within her - one that now drew her gaze, again and again, toward Prince Charming.
What was it that pulled her attention so completely? Was it his effortless charm, the way he carried himself with careless ease? Or was it the subtle influence of the curse that lingered about him, unseen yet ever-present?
Whatever the reason, it mattered little. Snow White found herself unable to look away, in spite of the prince’s antics - which she would have found infantile otherwise.
Prince Charming sat with his chair tipped back just slightly too far from the table, relaxed to the point of impropriety. He pushed aside the main course in favor of sweets and spoke without much thought, his jokes often earning awkward silences from the table. It was hardly fitting behavior for such an occasion.
And yet, though his manners lagged behind, his appearance no longer did. Princess Margaretha found herself disregarding his childish goofiness, her attention drawn instead to the signs of his growing maturity: the sharper line of his jaw, the hint of shadow along it, the broader set of his shoulders. No longer a child, though still far from polished - an incorrigible lad, but an undeniably handsome one.
They exchanged small talk, though Snow White remained distant, her thoughts wandering elsewhere - to the features of this eye-catching young man sitting in front of her rather than whatever nonsense he had to say. Prince Charming, in his naïve innocence, failed to understand her distraction. Still, her lack of attention soon began to irritate him.
When she delayed responding to yet another of his half-witted remarks, something in him gave way. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he flicked a small bite of iced cake in her direction, laughing softly at the impulse.
It landed against her bare skin, right near her collarbone - cold against warmth.
The cake began slowly melting, dripping down the uncovered cleavage. Small droplets glistened in the light from the heavy chandelier above, her bust rising and falling visibly with each breath, catching the prince's attention. It was the first time he truly saw in his friend the gorgeous woman she had become. He was fascinated by the sight, which seemed almost too lewd, and watched as the wet trickle of icing disappeared between the princess's breasts, tightly held together by her corset.
Snow White gasped, startled, her crimson-red lips parting in surprise. Their eyes met - and for a moment, the world around them seemed to fade. The air between them grew charged, heavy with something new and unspoken.
A single conspiratorial glance was enough. Just as they had done countless times as children, they found their chance to slip away unnoticed.
By the time the Grand Queen realized her son was missing, the two were already far from the banquet hall, hidden away in a secluded tower. It was a place long known to them both - their former refuge from the watchful eyes of their parents, once filled with laughter and childish secrets.
What unfolded there was tentative and uncertain, a quiet exploration marked by hesitation and instinct. It felt like a rite of passage neither fully understood, yet both felt compelled to follow. Awkward and impulsive, they learned through trial rather than thought, guided only by youthful curiosity.
Their closeness was rather clumsy. Lips clashed sloppily - tasting, probing, seeing how long it took until they were both out of breath. Sighs mingled with silence as they tested boundaries they had never before crossed. Bodies set aflame met feverishly, pressed against one another. The cold stone of the tower’s wall at Snow White’s back was a sharp contrast to the warmth between them, grounding her even as her heart raced. Their hips moved together in one rhythm, hands searching blindly for anything to hold on to.
Unbeknownst to them, the castle had descended into chaos. The Grand Queen, frantic with worry, sent servants and guards alike searching every corridor for her beloved son. Yet despite the flurry of movement, neither prince nor princess could be found.
Eventually, their intimate rendezvous was interrupted by none other than Snow White’s nanny. The elderly woman stood quietly in the doorway, her silver hair framing eyes wrinkled at the corners with knowing wisdom. There was no judgment in her gaze - only understanding, and the faintest smile.
“Come now, young ones,” she said gently. “Your parents are worried.”
Something had changed between Prince Charming and Snow White. For the remainder of the evening, an unspoken tension lingered between them - glances held a moment too long, small smiles exchanged in secret, brief touches disguised as accidents. All the while, they were careful not to draw attention.
But the Grand Queen was not so easily deceived. Her gaze followed them closely, her concern sharpened by the curse that had long bound her affection too tightly to her son.
A few days later, Princess Margaretha fell ill and took to her bed. She refused food, her strength waning, her spirit dim. Then, just as suddenly, the sickness passed without any plausible explanation.
Was it the curse beginning to take hold after the time she had spent with the prince? No one could say. For fate was already in motion, and great tragedies - long foretold - were quietly drawing nearer.