Where I come from, the cold is an enemy. He takes away things and people we love.
Most fear him, but not me. I don’t know why, but I have always been attracted to a sharp, paralyzing wind slicing through my coat and seizing my heart.
I frequently slip past the looming gate used to keep him out (or us in) just to experience the great frozen tundra that I have been banned from encountering. It is nothing but quiet peacefulness, with an occasional flurry of small flakes to get caught in my lashes and hair.
I have made friends with this so-called forbidden wasteland, and he has chosen me to be his queen. With this, we can always be together.
Just a few modifications to my flawed human physique, and I’ll be perfect to survive and thrive with my new chilled lover.
Just one small cut to my porcelain skin and he will come rushing in to cradle me in his cool arms. He will breathe into me with his icy lips, and we shall become one. He will protect me and make me his beautiful bride.
My stone-cold king and his cold-hearted queen. Together forever and ever. Till death takes my heart. The end.