First Spring - A First Snow Story

Princess Allison gazed out her window, a warm breeze rustling the thin cotton sleeves of her gown.

It's getting warmer now, she thought. If I stroll through the gardens now, perhaps...
She shook away the thought, stamping down the bud of hope pushing up through her heart. It's best not to overthink these things. Still, flowers bloomed tall and widespread below, their perfume filling the princess's room with spring and her heart with romantic sentiment.

Her castle was known for three things. Princess Allison considered each in turn as she made her way down the stairs of her tower, set a short walk from the main castle for privacy purposes.

Firstly, its open gates, which welcomed the commonwealth into its grounds with open arms and ears. She passed the towering steel. Once, when she was small, she had considered it frightening. Now, overtaken by clematis and rusted by time, age and disuse had worn its purposefully intimidating exterior and blended it into the inviting landscape of the gardens.

Secondly, its royal family, who brokered peace and understanding between their allies and protected their people. She considered this as she waved to one of the gardeners, arm deep in an overgrown huckleberry bush and filling a tin bucket with its fruit. They offered a smile and a nod, calling out to remind her to stop by and try this year's pies and jams. An exciting prospect indeed after such a long and lonely winter!

Thirdly and most notably, its patronage of the arts. The princess felt the immediate change in the air as she stepped from the grassy path and into the thatched roof hut. It was cool, refreshing, and she breathed deep in the smell of clay and fresh paint. The smell of inspiration.

This place has always been her favorite. She was far from gifted in the arts — her enjoyment stemmed more from the mere act of creation than the prestige and renown of artistic masterpieces. There was another part to it, too... but look around as she might, the person who made her heart flutter was not here today.
It really is hard to not get one's hopes up, she thought to herself, a resigned smile on her face. The day was young and the clay was soft, so the princess set about her work.

* * *

As Princess Allison tended to the bird's misshapen wing (an accident, as she dropped the poor thing onto the sculpting table with a splat), the doors to the studio were thrown open, sending her sculpture flying into the air much like its model. Unlike its model, it landed on the table with an even louder splat than the first time.

"Princess Allie!" A brunette woman, who reminded the princess of ferret, burst into the space. What she lacked in physical presence was made up for in volume and spirit. "I thought you'd be here!"

"I usually am, aren't I?" She laughed, scooping up the bird into her hands and rolling it into a ball once more. Back to the beginning, but it's not as if she got very far in the first place...

"Fufufu, you think I don't remember you back in the old days? Holed up in the library and practicing magic all day like it was going out of fashion!" Her friend slid into the seat next to her. She dropped a stack of papers onto the desk — gorgeous, marbled parchment, as though it swam in metallic ink. The princess took one with care, admiring its colors and swirls. "Now you're a real artist."

"Nothing wrong with being varied... These are stunning, Caprice. However did you make it?"

Caprice was the daughter of a merchant. Her family was known for their beautiful maps, detailing the world in inky precision and beauty. Her mother sold them out of a quaint building near the ocean, her business growing each season as the port built more docks and sailors needed more guidance (or sold off their old maps). Caprice trained specifically to restore these antique maps, but never stopped in her quest to discover her own artistic voice. It was her who pulled the princess into this workshop one fateful day, and the two became fast friends, their interest in art only adding to their strong friendship.

"It's our next project, princess! And that's not even the half of it~." Caprice pulled from her oversized messenger bag, embroidered from stitch to stitch, a woven container filled to the brim with colored threads. "We're doing bookbinding!"

"How lovely...!" The princess gasped. She took a spool and turned it in her fingers. The thread was thick, easy to work with, and colorful besides. "Are we doing it today?"

"Today?" The merchant's daughter tilted her head, a look of confusion replaced by one of delighted interest when the princess did not catch on to her meaning. "You don't have something to do today?"

"I don't like how you're phrasing that..."

"Hehe." She tried to stop the giggle that rose up, clamping a hand over her mouth quickly. "Nothing, nothing. Actually, I have to go early today, but if you could put this away for now?" She thrust the materials even closer to the princess and was already halfway across the room before she could reply. "I'll be back in the morrow! I'll see you then!"

"I-I guess I'll—well, okay, until tomorrow then," she huffed. On one hand, it was nice to not be treated as a princess by everyone she knew. On the other, Caprice's knack for putting her on edge and then quickly disappearing was, quite frankly, a little frustrating! Just before closing the door behind her, Caprice waved with her entire arm, giving a smile so wide it was contagious. And so, as the princess could never be genuinely upset with her closest friend, she waved back.

***

The early morning soon came to an end, heralded by the sunlight streaming in through the roof and sending ribbons of light throughout the workshop. Soon, she would be called in by a handmaid or the chef themself to eat lunch, and so the princess focused entirely on her work until that time would arrive. If she could just get the beak slightly curved, if she could just get the wings stable enough that they would not break in the oven... Each edit and adjustment stole her further away from the world, tuning out everything but the craft before her.

People came and went through this little shack. Some retrieved the items they had left to dry or bake the day before, others began something anew, and still others more brought projects from home to tend to the finishing touches. The quiet talking of couples or groups breathed life into the space as it did every day. As hours still passed, birdsong and laughter turned to the hum of afternoon pollinators and workers singing as they went home.

… Went home?

The princess looked up from her work for the first time all day. Not a single soul was left in the workshop.

Before her on the table laid rows of birds. Her every attempt at perfection — not in the anatomical sense, of course, but one that made her feel the swell of pride and love of a bird that was perfectly round and cute. Some were painted with glaze, the projects from last week standing proud. Others were new, still wet and shining in the light.

"How strange…" The princess remarked with the airiness of a woman who often lost track of time.

She stood from her table and went about the work of cleaning up. Not one to dwell on things like being forgotten or missing a meal, she simply thought of how utterly silly she must be to miss an entire day going by. Could it be that someone had indeed called for her, and in her focus she had dismissed them? No matter the case, she chuckled to herself when the cleaning was done and she noticed the mess she had made of herself as well.  The sheer white of her dress had by now been stained with clay and slip, a camouflage of mud and earth and shone with a rainbow of all the glazes. Her perfectly tied hair had fallen into a messy bunch of strands pushed away from her face as she worked.

This isn't very fitting of a princess, she thought. Why, if I were seen right now, the people would surely think me a witch rather than a princess…

Something stirred in the recesses of her mind. Her people… She gazed around the room, once again taking in its emptiness. More than that, it was clean. Far cleaner than anyone would leave the place on a weekday. What occasion could there possibly—

Princess Allison's gaze fell upon a painting. The sun did not reach all of its canvas, leaving the top half shrouded in darkness. From just the bottom, she could see delicate traces of the sketch underneath, a warm eggshell color striking out against the deep sweet burgundy of the background.

The color of cotton, and painted throughout it splatterings of mud and earth and shining with a rainbow of glazes…

No.

It… It could not be—

She picked up the canvas and held it up to the light, her own focused face front and center in the frame.

The stirring in her mind stopped, and memory flooded forth. It was clear from the brushstrokes. This is her, this is the artist, this is—

"Eileen…" Her breath left her lungs. The confident swath of color painting her face, adding reds to her cheeks and violets to her shadows and the highlight of blue her intensely dark hair got in the sunlight, all of it was hers. Clearly, truly hers. She knew this from her hours spent visiting her gallery—hoping beyond hopes that day would be the day she would fathom the courage to confess her desire for courtship.

She steadied herself by promptly falling down onto a chair nearby, still holding the painting in her hands.

***

It's high time you got a portrait done, dear.

What for? The people surely recognize me… Please tell me you're not planning on stepping down anytime soon?

Hahaha, no, no, my dear. For your birthday. It is tradition to mark such milestones, as reaching your 20th spring. Perhaps we could ask our painter! He's quite skilled, you know.

Actually, mother, there is an artist I had in mind. Provided her schedule allows, of course…

***

How could she forget something so INCREDIBLY, so IMPOSSIBLY important!?

The princess held her head in her hands — only after setting down the painting, of course — and the littlest of screams, sounding more akin to a tea kettle, escaped her lips. The mortification, the embarrassment, the intense shame… all of it caused the blood to rush to her face and ears, the throbbing of her heart audible between her palms. Through all of that, she thought…

She would've been staring. She must've been watching her so intently. She dared another glance towards the artwork. In it, she's posed with her head tilted slightly to the side, her hair falling over her other shoulder. There's just the tiniest dark spot right next to her ear — a beauty mark she never thought anyone would notice. The slight fraying of the frills on her dress are rendered with care, even down to the one piece of light blue string used to finish off a stitch she had started but ran out of white thread to finish.

Princess Allison exhaled slowly. A smile crossed her face, and it held there until her cheeks hurt and all semblance of being upset melted away into a feeling of tenderness.

This painting will be finished tomorrow. Afterwards, it would be hung upon a wall of immaculate portraits, each of their subjects perfectly posed with a placating but altogether empty look of someone attempting to look regal. In that long row, the painting of Allison created by the local painter Eileen will be, showing the princess entirely in another world, covered with glaze and slip and earth and entirely, utterly looking like a young woman who loved birds.

This was for the best. She could not ask for anything more fitting, more her. That the painter knew this once more sparked confidence, burning hotter than before, that she should ask her out on a tryst and get to know each other better.

Tomorrow, she will.

She promised this to herself as she leaves the shack, greeted by the night air and a cool breeze. She fortified it in her chest as she breathed in the smell of spring and stars, as firefly embers illuminated the path beyond.

The princess went home and dreamt of love.

-

Creator’s Notes:

Happy anniversary, First Snow! When I first designed Allison, years ago, I set out to make a type of girl I liked—and, I think, a type of girl I wanted to be. Cute and soft and someone you'd want to protect, not unlike a fairytale princess. And also very gay. In the time since those early drafts, Allison and I have found our own paths. It's thanks in massive part to the people who have helped us on our respective ways.

Thank you to everyone who enjoyed First Snow these past three years. I'm always pleasantly surprised to hear from you and to see how many of you there are. Thank you to everyone who has lent their guiding hands to Allison's story. I'm happy that some of those hands have been mine. I'm happy that I was able to see Allison grow into the type of girl she's become. I'm happy that I get to draw her more even now! In this short story, she's lovingly painted in the act of lovingly creating. Love through art. I wanted to capture that feeling as well. Let's continue watching Allison and the people she loves grow in Twofold!

- Allie (All-Maker)

Happy First Snowversary!
I was inspired to write this story because I always love working with fantasy AUs. In the great, spanning kingdom of Bellhouse, the castle of Prima Nix stands tall, with Princess Allison watching over it from her tower… Eileen working as a portrait painter is a fun concept too!
I didn’t work on FS in any major capacity (just the act cards!), but as I work more on Twofold, I fall more in love with the cast and just want to create more stories with them. It was really fun to try out this sort of flowery, stream-of-consciousness style too. Thank you for reading! 

- Theo

Don't forget to wishlist Twofold today! It really helps with the algorithm and visibility on the Steam storefront.