the ice queen

1

“Leave.”

He looked up at the Ice Queen, seated on her throne. No warmth, no malice behind those eyes. Were those her eyes or the mountain’s eyes?

“Esmerelda…”

Had the Ice Queen responded in frustration at his obstinance, responded at all or even looked away—

But he left, the twenty-foot throne-room doors booming shut behind him.

2

Within the hour the falling snow would forget the footprints left as Hirith rejoined his steed, Billow, an oxen white, and flew back over the range’s lesser peaks to his own ten leagues away.

When night fell and moonlight glazed the land, Hirith sat yet at the edge of his cave. He soon slipped into a dream, and Billow pulled him farther in, so that he may be warm.

In his dream the Ice Queen’s crown was deformed, as though melted and frozen again. Now it bound her face and neck like a web of icicle-roots. Her arms and legs were partially covered as the throne likewise encroached on her. As though the mountain was absorbing, reclaiming her.

It was thus the regent king awoke, impassioned to save the Ice Queen from the grips of indifference.

3

X

She turned to him.
Glowing blue eyes splinter,
blinding with fear.
Deer in headlights.
Back curling, sinking inward,
Sliding against the wall to escape.

“Stay away—”
Closer.
“Get back—”
and towering higher.

Words wrapped in whimpers.

Hand of Titan,
immolated in ice,
descending on a king of humans.
He finds himself in a corner,
No further to hide.
Arms raise to shield against absoluteness;

Tears and utterances unbecoming.

XI

When he resigned himself to freezing,
he stopped shivering,
and the cold air embraced him
much as warmth did.

When he stopped shivering