It has been a week of sunrises and sunsets. Days with her were like sunshine and rainbows, despite the howling blizzard that came in the night. Her laugh was an angel's melody—a heaven-sent as what the seven dwarves said about her. She was their little dove, their Edelweiss flower, and she was their daughter, whom they vowed to protect dearly after learning more about her dreary life.
Later that day, when Maria Blanca first arrived and when the moon was full amidst the perpetual winter eve, the seven dwarves learned that it was the anniversary of the princess's natal day. By tomorrow, as the dawn came, they surprised her with a little celebration they deemed "Midsummer Feast", commemorating not just the pale princess's arrival in the world but how she was born with the natural sunshine and sweetness in her soul, much like the summer season. The woodland creatures gathered frozen flowers and fashioned them into a crown for her head. As she sat in the middle of the dining table, she became a true royal with crimson beaming on her cheeks.
Since then, Maria Blanca grew wiser as she spent her time with her little grandfathers. They taught her more about domestic life, as well as other subjects not imparted to her within the confines of her palace, such as astronomy, history, philosophy, and tales about the saints, which the pale princess found her favourite. She realised how learned the seven dwarves were, regardless of how nature made their bodies small and lives unlike those who lived in the court of her father. She even finds it ironic how the men of the forest were far more knowledgeable than those who called themselves advisers as they sat proudly around the throne. Was it true that everything was not as it seemed? Were those rumours about her aunt, most especially those murmurs from her nursemaids, Olga and Winifred, all true and not some spitfire of lowly hatred? Maria Blanca wondered as she waited by the hearth for her apple pie to be cooked on a cool Tuesday morning.
Resting her head on a wall, she recalled that on the midnight after the dwarves welcomed her, she told them more about herself, especially about her father and her aunt. She noticed the change of tone when she spoke about her Aunt Gertrude. There was disdain on the faces of the little men, and when she asked about the sourness, they told her that her aunt was rumoured to be involved with black magic—that she was the reason why winter never left Erdestea. Maria Blanca found it unbelievable at first, but the more the seven dwarves shared, the more her mind was tainted with disdain against her aunt. Is that why she was so stern with her? She pondered.
Continuing to wait for her pie, with the woodland creature running out and about around her, Maria Blanca drowned herself in the brewing questions that her mind was forming. But before she lost her senses, the seven dwarves came to her and reminded her of the warning they had taught her before they left for work.
"Is everything alright, my child?" Geola asked, placing a gracious hand on her shoulder.
"I am fine—" Maria Blanca smiled.
"Always remember, princess, to never let strangers come and even talk a little sentence to you…" Hornung said, with a hint of urgency in his voice.
"Yes, I remember, Father Two." Maria Blanca answered with a chuckle. "I will always remember never let any odd folks come near even the tree that sat fifty feet away from the cottage, for strange folks do come to the forest to do bad deeds."
"And who knows, my dear—it might be one of Queen Gertrude's prowess," Wonnie added, raising his arms high as if he were some kind of beast trying to devour her.
But Maria Blanca laughed at his act and said, "Ha! Ha! Not to worry, Father Five, you all told me that with faith, black magic could not come our way."
And with that, the little men left to work, leaving their pale daughter alone with the animals and a cottage to tend to.
As the seven dwarves' silhouette finally blended with the casting shadow of the early morn, Maria Blanca proceeded with her chores as she danced and sang along to thwart the dreariness hovering over the whole little cottage.