King Raphael urged his horse faster, his eyes fixed on the stunning white buck. The animal, with its impossibly large antlers, weaved effortlessly through the snow-covered pines, mocking the efforts of the huntsmen. Raphael strung his bow for the third time, only to let it down when his prey swerved and hid behind a cluster of bushes.

The sun was high in the grey sky, cold and unwelcoming behind the thin veil of white clouds. Raphael ignored the cruel bites of frost on his face, entranced by the thrill of the hunt. His men were falling behind him, their voices more and more distant, but he kept his eyes on the escaping deer. In the silence of the frozen forest, the crunch of hooves on the snow and the cracking of broken twigs marked the passage of the hunter and his prey.

An arrow ripped from the bushes, piercing the buck's heart. Blood gushed forth, marring the pure white of its fur and staining the snow crimson. The magnificent animal faltered staggered and walked a few paces, before collapsing with a final, mournful bellow.

A figure sat astride a white horse above the stag, indistinguishable from the snowy landscape. Her long, deep-blue coat flowed around her, drifting above the ground like a specter. Platinum hair, like spun moonlight, escaped her fur-lined hood as she turned to face Raphael. He gasped when her steel-grey eyes pierced him like daggers, freezing him in place. Her oval face and smooth, rosy lips didn't soften her taxing expression.

"Thank you for bringing this magnificent deer to me," she said with a smirk, motioning with her bow toward the carcass. "I've been trying to hunt it down for a few days, but it somehow always managed to evade me," she added, looking back to the animal. Raphael let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.

"Always glad to be of service to a lady," he said with a graceful bow.

She returned her intense gaze to him. He looked down, bringing a small smile to her face.

"Who do I owe the gratitude to?" she asked with a tint of mockery.

"I'm sorry, I should have introduced myself. I am Raphael, the king of the Green Meadows," he said, glad that his cheeks were already rosy from the frost.

"Nice to meet you, King Raphael," she said with a curt nod. "I'm Astoria from the Mountain Pass." Her melodious voice sounded playful.

"The Guardian Queen," Raphael mumbled, his eyes going wide. "I thought you never left your castle," he added before he could think better of it.

Her heartfelt laughter startled him. Her eyes were warmer now, livened with sparks of joy. His heartbeat sped up. Was it because of meeting the mythical warrior, who spent her life fending off the forces of darkness on the final frontier with the unspeakable? Or was it because she was the fairest woman he had ever seen? Raphael shook his head as he pushed away the thought. He was married. Even if it was an arranged marriage without love, he had his duties.

King's men arrived with a clangor of weapons and stomping of hooves. They had been slowed down by hares and foxes fastened to their saddles and deers and boars pulled on makeshif sleigh. The hunt had been fruitful and they would have a feast back in the castle. Despite Raphael's ardent invitations, Astoria would not come with them.

"Impressive kill, my Lord," the head huntsman said assessing the buck.

"Not mine, Antonio. Lady Astoria got it first," the king corrected, drawing the man's attention to the Queen.

"Admirable precision, my Lady," Antonio said with a bow as if only now noticing the woman's presence. She nodded.

"Would you like me to pack the deer onto a sleigh and bring it to Your castle, my Lady?" he asked.

"That is very kind of you, but no man is allowed at my keep. My servants will be here soon enough and they'll take care of it," she answered, coldness in her voice contrasting with her polite words.

So the rumors of the Guardian Queen keeping a female army were true. Raphael bit his lip.

"While you're waiting for your servants let us have a fire and a meal together then," the King proposed, checking her face for reaction. His heart skipped a bit when she agreed.

Raphael's men quickly built up a fire and prepared a few hares for roasting. The royals sat on makeshift wooden benches and enjoyed the heat of the crackling flames. The Queen didn't speak much, allowing Raphael to spin tales from his previous hunts. As he searched his memory for anecdotes she observed him, not trying to hide her curiosity. He moved closer to the fire to blame his blush on the heat. She was composed and attentive, laughing and clapping when he talked about smart foxes eluding the whole hunt, clumsy nobles shooting trees instead of ducks, or brave dogs fending off an angry boar from a wounded hunter. With avid interest, she scanned the camp, taking in every detail.

The sun was low over the horizon when Astoria's servants arrived. They were all women, tall and lean, with bows at their backs and swords at their sides. Hoods covered their faces as they bowed before their mistress. Without a word, they packed the white deer and waited for their lady, who stood up to say her goodbyes. All the men came to say farewell or to take a better look at the women warriors. Only Antonio and his page were nowhere to be seen.

"I hope we will meet again soon," Raphael said as the Queen was mounting her horse. She shot him a sad look full of longing.

"This is not very likely, My Lord," she answered from the height of her saddle. "I rarely leave the castle. I have my obligations..." her voice trailed off leaving them in an uncomfortable silence. She kicked her horse and was gone. Raphael's heart ached.

The king wanted to go home and ignored Antonio when he advised spending the night by the fire. They set out when the last rays of sun bled across the snow. The new moon hung like a sliver of ice in the sky, casting a chilling gloom over the world. Their torches flickered, their flames casting long, skeletal shadows that danced among the trees, transforming the forest into a haunted dreamscape.

The wind howled like a wounded beast, sending sheets of snow flying, and dimming the torches. Dark clouds covered the faint stars. The blizzard came without a warning. The horses went into a frenzy, men fighting to calm them down and failing. Raphael reigned in his steed, pushing it toward a black mass of rocks shimmering between the snowflakes.

Taking a closer look at them the king realized he was at a ruined temple. Stone walls and broken arches provided shelter from the storm, letting his torch burn brighter. Raphael dismounted, exhaustion making his eyes close. His vision was blurred when he examined the indented sculptures adorning the cracking walls. Voluptuous curves of men and women entangled in a sensual dance peeked from under the moss and herbs that had settled on the ancient stones. The king slumped under a big, stone block whose time-worn carvings hinted at it being an altar. He pulled his coat tighter around himself, providing an illusion of warmth. Thick walls muffled the sounds of the raging blizzard. The sleep crept upon him, making his breath long and steady.

The crunch of a rock beneath a heavy boot startled Raphael awake. His torch was lying on the floor beside him, its last dying embers casting a narrow ring of flickering light, leaving the rest of the chamber in absolute darkness. Still dizzy from sleep he looked around searching for the source of the sound. A presence was lingering at the edge of light, enough to notice it, but not enough to discern the details. A faint, flowery smell lingering in the frigid air surprised the king. Raphael jumped to his feet, sword in hand.

"Who are you," he barked in the direction of the shadow.

"I have heard your wish, My Lord," the stranger's voice, soft yet resonant, filled the air as he walked into the light. "And I can help."

* * *

Seraphina sat by the open window, ignoring the glacial air. The silver needle danced in her hand as she worked on detailed embroidery on a silk handkerchief. On her design, a brown, huge-eyed owl and an ominous raven shared a pine branch. The young woman's deft fingers flew as she created a dove that was going to join the unlikely duo. In her mind, she called upon the Great Goddess who was merciful as the dove for her faithful daughters, wise as the owl for her allies, and fierce as the raven to her foes.

Seraphina tsked when the needle pricked her finger. Three drops of crimson blood fell on the glistening snow, where it was touching the ebony wood of the window frame. The striking contrast caught the woman's gaze. She put down her needle and stared, her eyes unfocused, her mind wandering.

It's been a year since she came here, to be the queen. Her father had arranged her marriage with Raphael when she was four and the prince was ten. For a simple nobleman's daughter, it was a great success and honor to become the king's wife. The royals needed the money and soldiers that this marriage would provide. Her family would gain power. Nobody cared about the feelings of the newlyweds.

Raphael had done his best to hide his disappointment at their first meeting. He must have hoped for a fairytale beauty, but instead, he had gotten a short, plump girl with mousey brown hair, a round face, and a small, perky nose dotted with freckles. Not the best fit for a prince charming like him.

Queen Astoria from the Mountain Pass would better suit his taste. She was rumored to be the fairest woman in the world, her long hair a cascade of the purest, lightest silver, her eyes like the cold sky above the mountain peaks, her lips like petals of the softest rose, and her voice rivaling the nightingale. But she looked for no husband and ruled alone in her unwelcoming highlands. Seraphina bit her lip.

The king was nice and courteous. His good manners shielded his new wife from mockery. His sense of duty kept her in his bedroom. The king needed an heir. Seraphina sighed, returning to reality. Her gaze once again locked on the red droplets shining in the snow.

"If only I had a child as white as snow, as red as blood, and as black as the wood in this frame," she thought. She shook her head, realizing the absurdity of her wish. As handsome as he was, Raphael with his golden hair and tan complexion would never sire a child like that. Not with her anyway.

With a mournful howl, the wind swept the bloodied snow into the room. Seraphina shivered and tightened the woolen shawl around herself. Heavy, grey clouds blocked the sun, filling the chamber with stifling gloom. The Queen locked the window, its low screech grazing her nerves. She picked up her handwork, turned around to search for a candle, and froze. The embroidery hoop hit the fluffy carpet with a soft thump. Her breath caught in her throat.

Three paces away from her stood a tall, lean man. A gentle smile played on his red lips as he pushed away his long, ebony hair to better showcase his high cheekbones and sparkling, jet-black eyes. Silver embroidery and white lace on his black velvet coat shimmered when he dipped into a graceful bow.

"My Lady," his low, warm voice caressed her ears.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" Seraphina whispered, her eyes wide with awe.

"I am yours to command," he responded with a charming smile.

The air vibrated between them with delightful tension. The sweet smell of roses and carnations enveloped her, bringing her images of sun-filled meadows. Seraphina gasped.

In one fluent motion, the man was a touch away from her, his mouth hovering beside her ear. His warm, sweet breath caressed the side of her neck.

"I am here to fulfill your wish, My Lady," he whispered, sending shivers down her body.

Her heart raced together with her thoughts, as she remembered her daydreams. Her breath went short. She disentangled from her shawl, letting it flow to the floor. She pulled on the buttons of her high collar, ripping it open.

Mesmerized, she looked up at the man. He was at ease, waiting for her move. She raised her hand to his cheek, longing to feel his silk, snow-white skin. He leaned into her hesitant caress. His lips parted.

Seraphina shuddered. Tension in her lower body grew, hard to contain.

"Do with me as you please, My Lady," he breathed into her palm.

The heat was rising in the Queen's body. Her eyes lost focus.

"As I please..." she whispered.

He nodded with a smile. She tore away the complicated fastenings of his coat. He shrugged it away, following her intentions. She yanked him into a kiss. Their mouths pressed, their tongues restless and greedy. As she pushed him toward the ottoman, his shredded white shirt fell onto the floor. Lying, he helped her with the rest of his clothes. The world around them whirled. Seraphina sat on top of him. His groan fueled her fire and the pleasure took her like a flood.