There was a lost island, in the far north of an undiscovered world, covered in snow and ice, where life was hard but hospitality reigned. The king was a good man, a warrior and a ruler, wise and well-advised by lots of counsellors. His kingdom was rich and his people loved him, especially his adopted daughter. He found her alone and almost dead, in the heart of a snowstorm, playing with flakes and laughing in the wind. But it took place eighteen years before her true story began. At that time, she was an outstandingly beautiful women, raised by the best teachers, with manners and emotions. Even if her straight dark hairs and skin were highly unusual for mountain people, it did not put her aside from society as, in fact, she was very skilled in everything she learned. Anyway, she was protected by her father, who loved her as his own daughter.

But when the king died, she completely lost herself in despair. She cried for days, and her good-mannered mask fell down, revealing how lost she was without her model. Therefore, she refused to step out of her apartments. She refused to disappoint her kind-hearted father. She refused to let the Gods see how awful his legacy to this world was. Lots of people were sent to her door to persuade her to, at least, attend his funerals, but none found the words that would have forced her to do what she was supposed to do. During those few days, a panicked messenger arrived, carrying an important message he had to deliver to the Queen. However, as she did not seem trustable, her counsellors decided not to tell her what they received, and kept it secret from everybody.

Still mourning, doing nothing but drowning herself in her sorrow and rehashing dark thoughts, the new Queen did not care about anything concerning her duties or her people. She only wished to stay alone and be forgotten by every person she knew, forgiven for preferring loneliness to their company. But she knew, because of her abandonment, it was impossible. She couldn’t even forgive herself. She wouldn’t be able to follow her father’s steps, and that was all she cared about.

But as every caller gave up, the faction guard at her door started feeling concerned. He knew, as one of the best soldiers of the royal army, the fact that the enemy’s attack was imminent and that they probably already were on the island, hiding somewhere. Yet, if his commander did not react, they were lost and they could as well be dead by now. So, even if it was singular for him, that earned the title of Ice Knight because of his fighting skills and his impassibility, he knocked at her door. Inside his head, he was trying to convince himself he was more than well-placed to give her the advices she needed. He repeatedly asked Her Majesty to answer, for a day and a night, until aurora tainted the endless peaks of its pink velvet. The noise he made was far more aggressive, nobody else dared to make as much as he did. When she finally ended up opening her door, pale, tired and furious, she shrieked, throwing on him all her griefs and anger. For the first time in his life, he froze, strawberry-red in front of her tears, before kneeling and murmuring: “I wanted to tell you that without you, our kingdom is ruined. The barbarian army sent a message to the council to inform us they are somewhere, outside, on your lands.” It was her turn to freeze. She babbled, before erasing her tears and every trace of emotion on her face. Her voice betrayed her when she started protesting. “Why didn’t they warn me? They should have broken down the door! You, come with me, I need details and protection. Tell me what you know.” She grabbed his hand and dragged him downstairs, to the council room, while he explained everything he had been told. When she asked her counsellors, none could tell her more than he already did. Her anger was burning inside her, but she couldn’t punch any of them. “A soldier”, she said slowly, “a soldier knows more of the kingdom’ situation than the Queen’s counsellors. I hope you understand the problem.” And to make sure it did not happen again, she forced them to come with her to the barbarian camp to discuss the terms of their reddition. Her voice was so cold they could have been hit by an iceberg and feel warmer. The Knight at her sides chose not to speak against his Queen, even if he had some doubts about the legitimacy of her decision.

As she wanted to leave as soon as possible, she only allowed the ones already prepared to come with her. Only few soldiers were awake and authorised to accompany them. The Ice Knight took the lead of their cavalry and they rode on the frozen roads hidden in the snow to meet their enemy where the messenger said he was camping. On the way, every soldier knew how dangerous that expedition, on a winter morning, was. They had to ride down kilometres on a fragile snow coat that could turn into dust in a second and bury them until spring, to prevent a war against a barbarian army that was far stronger than them. They all knew, including the Knight leading the procession, they were riding to their death, because of the obstacles on their road and the impossibility to avoid a war that would sign their end. But none could tell the Queen what they thought. Strong belief was written on her face, obliging them to accept that, whatever were the consequences, she had to try. She barely hoped it would work, but it was still possible. As they were crossing the mountains, the bright star blinded their group, giving them the last pieces of hope they needed to continue. Gods were on their side. If the Gods wanted it, whatever happened was meant to be.

So when they reached the enemy camp, they somehow knew something had to be. Life or death, it was the Gods’ choice. As they entered the barbarian King’s tent, a horrifying shivering shook them all. The curtain behind them clacked as they discovered their enemy. They knew the instant their eyes met they were all imprisoned with a mad man.

But the Queen did not consider it. She started talking, her rank leading her words, her moves. She questioned him, showing the advantages of a partnership between their nations, trying to avoid the war. “You can choose”, she tried, bravely looking at him in the eyes, “whether you will put lives in danger or be able to share the resources you seek. I accept to give you whatever you ask for, only if you swear not to fight and to be reasonable.” But everything she received for her offer was a dreadful laugh. It rezoned through the icy plain where they did establish their camp, and every soul, every weapon, every piece of armour seemed to follow its leader’s madness. The awful clinging of iron against itself told them everything they had to know. Death was coming. Panic-stricken, every member of the Council tried to go out, revealing hundreds of guards surrounding the tent. They couldn’t escape. But they had to! They couldn’t die in here! They had duties! Responsibilities! But they had to find a way out! Someone had to escape, to warn someone, to force them to run away, somewhere they could live freely, even if…!

It already was too late. Too late. The mad King had already made his move. In his hand was a knife, and he was diving on Her Majesty, ready to spill her blood on his throne. But the Ice Knight saw him. He blocked is attack. The explosion of the swords’ meeting triggered the other soldiers attack. The Queen, surprised, couldn’t take as much fighters, even with her hidden blades. In that bleeding storm of yells and metallic clinging, she lost herself a moment, collecting wounds, pain, but without noticing it. Her eyes met those of her dead friends, of the warriors she forced to come. Fire started burning her heart, turning it into ashes. Her mouth was full of a sickening taste. She could only smell sweat, blood and flesh. She started crying. And then, slowly, she understood that everything was her fault. Her kingdom had fallen, because of her.

But someone was still fighting for her. Her Knight was still defending her. It was the only reason she wasn’t already dead. Somehow, a voice reached her, frightening. She looked around, trying to find that voice, to save someone. Still, too late. The last of her counsellors had been harmed while stepping in to protect her. A gauntlet caught her arm and dragged her in the cold morning, escaping from the bloody snowfield.

But they were too closely followed and so under-prepared for their escape. Only wearing furred capes and boots, they had to survive to winter at its worst, the freezing air, the thick iced snow and the cloudy sky without light. Where they should have been checking the strength of the ice, they were running on it. They couldn’t even hear the sound of their own footsteps or the crackling of the ice, because of their own panting and the cries of the crowd on their heels. In an instant, an avalanche caught them and led them to the shores of the island, covert in snow. But with the sea behind them, they were cornered, it was impossible for them to drawback.

Luckily, a ship noticed them and navigated towards them. But as the captain came closer, so did the enemy, and sooner or later, they would reach them. And the soldier knew who would be first. He looked back on his Queen and praised her to get in the boat and leave him here. She would have liked to refuse, but it was impossible. There was no other way out. So she did as he said, while the first fights began.

When it ended, she already was far away from her homeland, but unable to found any information about its situation. It seemed as if her island wasn’t part of this world anymore. She would have given anything to know if he made it too. She swore to the stars and the Gods she would come back for him and her country with the help of the finest warriors, to save them all. She had found her next stop. It was a southern tribe known as the Desert Mirage.

So, as she travelled the world for months, looking for them, she got lost in the dusty dunes of the Burned lands, where they were supposed to live. After a few days, she started suffering from thirst. In her illusions, she saw the man that sacrificed himself for her. But it wasn’t a happy dream. It was so real. So real. She tried to cover her eyes, but she couldn’t move a muscle. He was there, in front of her, being tortured. She fell on the floor, unable to stop her tears from flowing and praying his tormentor to let him go, to take her instead of him.

She woke up in a bed, surrounded by a dozen of curious-looking women and a strange doctor. It didn’t took her long to understand. She just found the ones she was looking for. It took her time to recover, but she used it well, learning an ancient story, supposedly concerning her. It was about a legendary fire butterfly, thought to appear each time its destined possessor entered the country and to warn the high priestess of one’s arriving, before changing his keeper into a fire wielder. And as something looking like it entered her chest when their chief found her, she had been appointed new heir of the tribe’ leader. The commander of their army tried everything she could to help her new power manifesting itself, but there wasn’t a single weapon ingiting when she used it. However, when she had to dance to celebrate her newly obtained rank, everything burned down, from her traditional dress to the dry earth around her.

That’s how she discovered she truly had something special. She could win. The next day, she accepted to be trained. She wanted to become the incredible warrior she saw in her saviour, and someday, to become his. It took her months, but when she was considered strong enough, the whole tribe challenged her.

If she defeated its best fighters, including the actual queen, she would take her throne and they would help her reconquering her land. A tournament was organised and, with the help of a blacksmith to design unique weapons to enhance her strength, she defeated her enemies one after another, until the tribe’s leader came in the arena. After a long fight, struggles, large wounds, they were both exhausted. Both chose to take a break and talked. The topic of their discussion, until today, remains unknown, but the fight did not resume. The adverse queen forfeited, and when the sun rose, the butterfly’s chosen one was crowned. The army, already prepared, started crossing its homeland to reach the battlefield with its new Queen. It had been a year since that dreadful night on the icy beach.

Finally, they reached her island. But the barbarian army was expecting their attack and in front of them, the whole army, well-prepared, already organised its strategy. Both were ready for the war and both would be fighting each other sooner than expected. The Queen hoped she could negotiate, but on the front line, she made eye contact with a man she immediately recognised as her enemy. Memories of his behaviour came back, but she put them aside. She had to try. Again. She needed to know. She shouted: “We don’t have to fight! If you let me disembark and lead me to you chief, perhaps we won’t shed blood!” Her words were followed by laughs and insults, as it did last time. She would not be able to prevent today’s war. She would have to fight, too. And she hated it. But she couldn’t stay behind and encourage her troops from a safe place. Not that close to success, not that close to her home, certainly not if her saviour was alive. She would avenge him, because he already was strong enough to do his duty while she was just a little girl living in a dream made of rainbows and sweets. So, she decided to lead the war. She would honour his sacrifice.

Everything ended up strangely. The barbarian army was stronger than hers, and she had to take its leader, as she was considered the strongest soldier. But fighting a swordsman with only her foot and fists while dancing to keep a flame shield between them wasn’t easy, far from it. And she wasn’t very experienced. It only had been a year since she left, even if she, indeed, changed a lot and learned just as much. But against him, she didn’t stand a chance. It was harder than anything she faced, because she was surrounded as well by friends as enemies, so she couldn’t use every move she mastered. And every time the sword came closer to her, she panicked. If she did not find a way to finish this fight quickly, she would be dead before discovering what happened to her Knight. And, even if she didn’t accept it, it was part of her reason to come back. But as the blade passed again through her shield, she saw it coming right to her heart. It was too late, she failed. A voice in her head rang, singing something sounding like “Again…”

Another voice surprised her and stopped the blade millimetres before her chest, drawing a single bloody line on it. With a few steps back, she protected herself and danced harder to keep her defences high. But as she turned on herself, fixing her eyes on her target, something intervene between them. A graceful silvery shine, a deep blue cape and a legendary iced sword she recognized. The Blue Rose Sword, known as the ultimate blade, unbreakable but lost centuries ago, wielded by a man she immediately recognised as her saviour. But his strength seemed to have decreased as he stepped back under the violent strokes. He no longer was the brave and resigned soldier she remembered from the beach. But neither was she. And she had to pay her life debt. So she stopped for an instant, made a few steps ahead and started a tango. A large fire ring surrounded both of them, forcing friend and foe to take a break. The Queen shouted something to her partner, his eyes glowed in the warm light as she smiled. Flames became brighter, before vanishing and they both jumped on the enemy. The swords met, as well as the Queen’s feet, reinforced with steel spears, encountered her target: the neck of the opponent.

With a cracking, he fell, eyes rolled upward, blood spilling from his lips, dead. As plague, the information spread on the battlefield. Every warrior laid down his weapons, offering their lives. All they had to do was die. Their leader was dead, defeated by a woman. A lady. And she would not be gentle with them, not after what they did to her people.

To their great surprise, she did not want their death. They had to promise not to kill again to be sent back to their country, still alive but defeated. It was a shame, an unbearable sin they had to hold, but it wasn’t the end. That’s what this woman, now their ruler as she killed their king, told them before offering them a new chance. She took her throne and her country back, helped by her faithful knight, who gave her advices on the battlefield as well as on political arenas. It took time before he accepted to talk about the tortures he suffered while captured by the barbarian army. He told her how he ran away from them, helped by hidden refugees, how he got lost, how a voice lead him to the sword and then to a safe place, in the highs of the northern peak. Here, he had been healed by villagers resisting the assaults of the enemy and how he trained them to form an army that would come and back her up when she would come back to fight for her throne.

They spent their days working together, her as the chief commander of the armies and its best fighter, him as her main counsellor and personal guard, both forming an unmistakably perfect couple. As time passed in the castle and they grew up, they discovered they were more than partners in reign. When they finally realized it, it took them some time to get married, but when they did, peace fell again on their icy kingdom and they were free to live happily ever after.

But everything ends someday, and when their time came, they had two kids. So they chose to leave their most important thing to their children. One gave his daughter his sword, the other transferred her power to her son. And to thank them for the life they just left, the Gods decided they deserved to join them, in the deep dark sky, as its two more powerful stars: one shinning coldly and the other as bright as flames. And to be sure they would never ever be separated again, they united them around their world, sharing light and offering it to their children. That’s why they will never leave the other, neither will they leave their world. They are said to still be watching over their legacy and assuring themselves nobody will ever misuse it.