The king’s voice carried a chill that matched the story he was about to tell. The flickering flames in the hearth seemed to dance slower as he began, their warmth struggling against the weight of the tale.
“Tonight,” he said, “we speak of Yasmin, the Pari who gave her heart to a prince cursed by winter—a man whose life was bound to frost and snow, who could never feel the warmth of spring.”
The princess tilted her head. “A curse? Was it magic?”
The king nodded. “It was. The prince, Darian, had once been beloved by the gods of the seasons, but his pride earned him their wrath. He dared to say he needed no one—not even the gods themselves. For his arrogance, he was cursed to live in perpetual winter. Snow followed him wherever he went, and ice bloomed under his touch. No fire could warm him, and no sun could thaw his frozen heart.”
“How could someone like Yasmin, so full of life, love someone bound to such cold?” the princess asked.
“Ah,” the king said with a faint smile, “that is the heart of this tale. Yasmin was a Pari of the southern gardens, where the air was warm, and the flowers never withered. She was known for her radiant beauty and her gift of bringing life wherever she went. Trees bloomed in her presence, rivers sang her name, and the sun seemed to shine brighter when she danced. She had no reason to leave her paradise—until she heard of Darian.”
“How did she hear of him?”
“The winds carried tales of the cursed prince to every corner of the world,” the king explained. “Stories of his sorrowful eyes and his lonely castle of ice reached even Yasmin’s ears. While others pitied him or avoided him, she was curious. She wondered how someone could live in such desolation, so far from the warmth and life she had always known. Her curiosity turned into something deeper—a pull she could not ignore.”
The princess leaned forward. “So she went to find him?”
“She did,” the king replied. “Her journey was long and treacherous. She left behind the endless spring of her home and ventured into the frozen north, where the sun was pale, and the air bit at her skin. When she finally reached Darian’s castle, it was a towering fortress of ice, its halls silent and empty. She found him sitting alone in the great hall, his head bowed, his breath visible in the frigid air.”
“What did she say to him?”
“She said, ‘I have come to bring warmth to your winter.’ Darian looked at her with disbelief, for he had grown accustomed to solitude and had long given up hope of anyone reaching him. But Yasmin’s presence was like the first light of dawn after a long night. Though he tried to warn her away, telling her that his curse would only bring her suffering, she refused to leave.”
The princess smiled faintly. “She must have been brave.”
“She was,” the king agreed. “Yasmin was not afraid of the cold. She saw the pain in Darian’s eyes and understood that beneath his icy exterior was a man who longed for warmth, even if he could not admit it. Day by day, she brought life into his frozen world. She sang to him, told him stories of her homeland, and planted flowers in the snow. Though they withered in the frost, her efforts melted something deeper within him—his heart.”
“And he fell in love with her,” the princess said softly.
“Yes,” the king said. “But with love came fear. Darian knew that Yasmin could not survive in his world forever. The cold would claim her, just as it had claimed everything else. Yet, Yasmin did not waver. She told him that she would rather live one day in his arms than an eternity without him.”
The princess’s eyes glistened. “Did she give up her immortality?”
“She did,” the king said, his voice heavy with emotion. “Yasmin chose to become human, knowing the risks. The moment she made her choice, the curse that bound Darian began to break. The ice that encased his castle began to melt, and the snowstorms that followed him ceased. For the first time in years, he felt the warmth of the sun on his skin. But Yasmin’s sacrifice came at a price.”
The princess’s breath hitched. “She didn’t survive, did she?”
“No,” the king said quietly. “When their daughter was born, Yasmin’s strength began to fade. Darian held her in his arms as she took her final breath, her smile as radiant as the spring she had left behind. Her love had not only freed him from his curse but had also left him with a precious reminder of her—a daughter who carried her warmth and light.”
“What happened to Darian?” the princess asked.
“He devoted the rest of his life to ensuring that their daughter would know the love of her mother,” the king said. “Though he mourned Yasmin every day, he found solace in the legacy she had left behind. And he never forgot the Pari who had melted the winter of his heart.”
The fire crackled softly, its glow reflecting in the princess’s thoughtful eyes. “Yasmin must have been extraordinary,” she said.
“She was,” the king replied. “But what made her extraordinary was not her beauty or her immortality—it was her courage to love, even when it meant facing the coldest of fates.”
The princess nodded slowly, her heart heavy with the bittersweet tale. In her mind, she could see the frozen castle thawing, the flowers blooming, and Yasmin’s light lingering even after she was gone.