The sun was setting on the kingdom of Lima. The warmth from the day was slowly deteriorating into a bone chilling freeze that began to ice the great lake that surrounded the castle. Snow started to fall and dusted everything in white. In the highest tower of the castle was the Queen’s secret chamber. In the twilight the yellow walls reflected and cast off an orange and pink glow. The room itself was a cheery sight, with a small basinet in the center of the room, stuffed animals lined the walls and leather bound books of harmless meaningless children stories stood in small bookshelves. But the room held a certain melancholy feel to it in the late December afternoon. Instead of the room being bright and radiating a feel of warmth and love, it possessed a deep sadness. A single candle burned on a small desk by the bay window. There, the Queen sat spinning thread. She spent most of her nights in this room working on an infant’s wardrobe, one that didn’t exist.

As she tied off the last thread of a sweater, she silently cried. She couldn’t help thinking what could be if she had a child of her own, wearing this sweater, running around this room. Fifty. Fifty was the number of clothes that she had made for her imaginary child but to a mother in mourning the baby she imagined was all too real. She could picture it running around this room, playing with the toys and stuffed animals, and pretending to be a prince or princess. For a year King Burt Hummel and his wife Elizabeth had been trying to get pregnant but to no avail. The first time that they thought they were with child they redid the entire eastern tower, the tallest, into the Queen’s and baby’s. There the baby’s room was situated at the top. The couple, and the kingdom, was elated over the news of an heir. But then disaster struck.

Young Elizabeth woke up in the middle of the night a month into her first trimester in a puddle of blood around her legs. After that night, the queen never bore a child again. They tried for six months following that painful night, but no child came. It troubled the royal family and disheartened the kingdom’s subjects. Rumors that the Queen was inadequate spread like wildfire. The king’s parents adored Elizabeth deeply and knew that Burt was very much in love with the woman, but the importance of a living heir unfortunately outweighed love in their eyes. In the military meetings following, Burt’s advisors instructed him to remarry or impregnate another of blue blood. He chose to do neither. His love for his wife and queen was undying, unconditional, and incorrigible. Every night Burt assured his wife that he loved only she and he would not have a child with anyone but her.

Queen Elizabeth did not doubt his devotion, in fact it may have been the only thing that kept her alive in that year of sadness. She understood the things that were spoken ill of her were just out of fear; fear that maybe if an heir was not born than a member of the distant royal family would come and take the throne. The truth behind the tears that flowed down her cheeks every night and the despair that clung to her heart like a noose was that she wanted a child of her own. She dreamed of having a little baby to love and cherish: to give herself to each and everyday entirely. In her dreams she would braid a little girls blonde locks, like her own, while they played dress up. In others she saw a little boy, whom she scolded for getting into the kitchen and stealing cakes from the cook. The pain of the beauty and happiness she experienced in her dreams was too much to bear when she woke up. So every night, the Queen would steal away to her secret chamber that looked over the forest of Dalton. Each night she would knit and sew clothes for a child that may never be.

On this coming night the snow clouds outside were lightly dusting the Earth. A strong wind came through the open window and blew the candle out. Startled, Elizabeth jumped and pricked her finger on the needle she was working with. The droplets fell onto the snow that had accumulated on the ebony window sill beside her. The Queen gazed at the blood like it held some profound truth, that it might give her the answers she searched for.

Sighing she spoke out loud, "Oh, how I wish that I had a child that had skin white as snow, lips red as blood, and hair black as ebony.”

Just as the last words were leaving her lips a great gust of wind blasted through the window. It traveled through the room with purpose, moving in one direction. It circled the room till it came back full circle to Elizabeth. Expecting the wind to be cold, the queen was surprised to find that the wind was in fact warm. It moved around her making a tornado of snow. Elizabeth shielded her eyes from the onslaught, her heart racing in fear and bewilderment. Surely this couldn’t be happening, could it? The winds attack had ceased. Opening her eyes, a surprised gasp escaped her mouth. Standing before her was a tanned woman. Her eyes were slightly turned up, foreign to this land, and she had long jet black hair with blue streaks running through it. Her attire was something to be called scandalous. She wore a black laced corset dress that didn’t have any sleeves nor did it go past her mid-thigh. No one in the kingdom would be caught dead wearing so risqué, except maybe the women who belonged to the brothels.

The young girl smiled at her warmly, “Queen Elizabeth, beloved by all of Lima. Words of praise spread far and wide of your kindness.” Her face softened and her mouth turned down in empathy. “But your deep sorrow is felt by many of my kind. Tell me, what is it that you wish for?”

“I wish for a child to call my own.”

“Why?”

The Queen moved towards the basinet letting her hand caress the wood longingly. “There is no love like that of a child’s.”

“What would you do to have all that you wish for?”

“What are you?” The Queen asked suddenly, suspicious.

The girl let out an amused high pitched laugh. “The rumors of your intelligence do you well my Queen. I am a witch who has felt your sadness deep in my own soul. I want to bring you happiness Elizabeth."

“But what price must I pay? I know magic all too well; life cannot be created without life being taken away.”

“This is true,” she sighed, “I can’t give you a child without first taking a life, your life.”

Elizabeth didn’t falter a step as she moved towards the witch, “How long will I have with my baby?”

“It will be a slow death Elizabeth. You won’t feel it happen till the very end. Seven, perhaps eight years. I can’t promise you anymore.”

“I’ll do it, I’ll do anything. Just please let me have a child.” She sobbed.

The witch came up to her and placed a hand on each side of her face, leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead. When she pulled back she was smiling at Elizabeth.“It is done.”

“Pray tell me what your name is good witch, so I can thank you properly.”

“Tina, of the Chang clan.”