A boy, a prince whose heart was as cold as ice. His knight, whose will had melted that ice. Together, they lived, deep in the mountains. The snow polluted the air with its soft white touch. Leaving the mountains, it felt impossible. But the knight attempted it. He wanted to escape. The boy waited in the citadel, yearning for his knight’s return. The knight, the only person who could break through that ice which weighed down the snow prince’s heart. The prince would cry, feeling the sadness overcome his heart. He missed his knight. He needed his warm embrace to extinguish the cold. His knight had left to find a cure to the boy’s cold heart. But the prince only needed his knight to thaw that sorrow. His knight was his medicine, he convinced himself. No, that was the frost talking, lying to the boy. Forcing himself to believe that his knight would return and that his knight was all he needed. He shook off these idiotic urges, thoughts, and feelings. It was becoming increasingly clear to the boy. His knight was terrified and scared off. The cold had driven the boy past the brink of madness and despair. Running out of the citadel, the boy never looked back. He ran into the distance, through the snow and mountains. He was determined to find his knight. Determined to make right what he did and said wrong. His only cure, what he needed to thaw this cold, was forgiveness for his delusion. Redemption from his own mistakes.