The Straight Little Prince | A Tragic Winter Fable of Love and Betrayal

Once upon a time, in the eternal frost of the Kingdom of Winter, there lived a little prince known not just for his gentle heart but for a truth that quietly weighed on his soul—he was straight. In a realm where love knew no limits of gender, being straight was almost an anomaly, and for the little Prince, it was a lonely distinction. Yet amidst the shimmering ice and towering snow-capped palaces, his heart remained steadfast in what it yearned for — a love both true and forbidden.

The Kingdom of Winter was the coldest among the four great Seasonal Empires, yet it was often said to be the most beautiful, carved in frost and glistening like glass beneath the pale sun. Each year, on the warmest day, the prince’s two fathers — the ruling King and his beloved consort — paraded him across the land. They watched together as the last shards of ice melted into streams, only for the frost to reclaim the earth soon after. This ritual marked not only the passing of seasons but the prince’s steady march toward adulthood and, inevitably, the throne.

As the prince turned eighteen, his fathers called him aside. Their expressions were filled with pride, but also with expectation.

“My son,” the King declared warmly, “the time has come for you to prepare. I will soon step down, and the Kingdom will be yours to rule.”

The little Prince, who still felt a boy in many ways, hesitated.

“But Father… am I ready?”

His other father smiled gently.

“You are, but there is one thing you must do before you inherit the crown: you must choose a husband. Only then will the ancient magic of Winter pass to you.”

Though he tried to conceal it, the prince’s heart sank. He wanted to serve his people, to be a great king like his fathers. Yet how could he do so when his heart did not align with the tradition? For his heart, impossibly and irreversibly, belonged to a woman — a thief named Diana Hart.

The Thief Beneath the Ice

Diana Hart was a prisoner of the realm, infamous for her beauty and her crimes. She had been the leader of a band of thieves who swept through kingdoms like shadows, draped in scarves and cloaks, riding black-eyed horses. When the thieves last raided the Winter Kingdom, they stole treasures both worthless and rare — but left Diana behind. Captured, she was imprisoned beneath the Frozen Pond, a hidden chamber at the farthest edge of the Palace gardens. A place beautiful yet desolate, where the prince himself often sought solace.

Even before Diana’s capture, the Prince had loved that pond. He would sit by the frozen water, skating its smooth surface, dreaming of adventures beyond the snow. Now, he found himself drawn there not for the peace, but for her. The prisoner beneath the ice became his confidante, his secret muse — her smile warm against the winter chill, her words a balm to his hidden sadness.

Though Diana was confined, she spun royal fabrics for the court — her skilled hands weaving beauty even in captivity. To the prince, she was more than a thief. She was his frost flower — the only bloom resilient enough to thrive in Winter’s unforgiving cold.

The Choice of Kingship

The eve of his coronation approached, and the Prince was presented with suitors from the other seasonal kingdoms:

• Lord Jasper of Spring: Pale-haired and frost-kissed despite his sunny origins, a delicate boy with eyes like frozen lakes.

• Lord Fernan of Summer: Bright and fierce, intellect burning in his gaze, yet lacking the icy resilience the Winter Kingdom needed.

• Lord Thorner of Autumn: A childhood friend, with hair like autumn fire and a heart that understood change, ever adaptable yet distant.

Of them all, the Prince felt the closest to Thorner, yet he could not love him. His heart was chained, bound to Diana beneath the ice.

Desperate and restless, the Prince returned to her. They stood separated by the cold bars of her prison, their hands intertwined through the gaps.

“I want to be with you,” he confessed. “Not with them. You.”

She laughed softly, her smile tinged with sadness.

“You know that cannot be. I am a thief, a woman, a prisoner.”

But the Prince was determined.

“Then I will change the rules. I will free you, disguise you as a villager. At my coronation, when I must name my partner, I will name you, Diana Hart.”

She looked at him, eyes shimmering with a depth he could not fully read. Yet she smiled and whispered,

“See you soon, my dear.”

The Coronation and Betrayal

The day of the coronation arrived, the Kingdom adorned in glistening silver and white. The prince stood in the sacred garden, surrounded by his fathers, the seasonal lords, and the people of Winter. He wore a robe crafted by Diana herself, woven with delicate frozen threads only she could conjure.

The ancient rite began. The King cut his thumb, pressing it to his son’s in blood, a signal for the Magic of Winter to pass down through the royal line. The ground shook, the air grew colder, and the magic began to awaken.

Then came the pivotal question:

“Prince of Winter, who do you name as your partner, the one to rule by your side?”

With a voice both nervous and triumphant, the Prince declared:

“I name Diana Hart!”

Gasps echoed across the gathering. The crowd parted as Diana stepped forward, her disguise cast aside. Her beauty was undeniable — but so was the power that now radiated from her. Her hair darkened, her eyes glowing with an unnatural light.

Suddenly, the air cracked with energy. Diana rose, lifted by invisible forces, and the magic meant for the Prince was instead drawn to her. His father, the King, grew pale, his magic stripped away, leaving him fragile as pure ice.

“No! Diana, stop!” the Prince cried. “We can be together now!”

But Diana only smiled, her lips curved in cruelty.

“You were never meant to inherit this magic, my sweet Prince. I was.”

For Diana was no ordinary thief — she was a creature of another world, ancient and cunning, who had waited beneath the ice for the perfect moment to seize the Winter Kingdom’s power. The Prince’s love had been her key, his heart the lock she had deftly undone.

The End of Innocence

That night, the Kingdom of Winter changed forever. The little Prince, who had wanted nothing more than love, had instead betrayed his lineage, his people, and himself. The magic of Winter belonged now to Diana Hart, who vanished into the cold night, leaving a kingdom trembling in her wake.

The little Prince would live on — not as a King, but as the boy who loved wrongly, whose heart sought a flower that bloomed in frost yet cut like ice.

For all he wanted was a girl. And she was never just a girl.

Moral of the Story

Love blinds us to truths we do not wish to see. Desire, if unchecked by wisdom, can be the downfall of even the most noble hearts. Not all who smile kindly harbor kindness in their souls.