The Polar Bear Queen
A Fairy Tale: Chapter One
Long ago and far away there were two neighbouring lands that had little in common beyond their shared border. The southern kingdom was warm and green year-round with bountiful farmlands and pastures while the north lay under an eternal blanket of snow.
At sixteen years of age, Anette was the youngest child of the king of Summerland and she dreamed of adventure. With little to fill her days, she read romantic tales of daring quests and spent hours riding in the lush countryside.
On a day that began like any other, a traveler came to the palace. This was exciting in itself as they had few passersthrough, but to everyone’s delight the visitor was a polar bear who spoke as a human. The king of Summerland invited the polar bear to stay for dinner and it accepted with a bow as graceful as an enormous beast could manage.
Anette was fascinated by the bear and contrived to sit next to it at the table. She wore her brightest green dress to match her eyes and complement her fiery red hair. And she was elated at the look in the polar bear’s eyes when Anette took her seat. It may be a beast, but it seemed to appreciate her.
“My name is Anette,” she offered with a smile.
The polar bear inclined its head and replied, “I have no name that I may give you.”
They spoke at length over their food. The bear was gratifyingly interested in not just the warm lands of the south, but also in Anette herself. She realized, however, that it didn’t provide much information about itself, beyond that it had lived its whole life in Winterland and this was its first time beyond the borders. Every question Anette asked was neatly and gently deflected and turned back around to Anette and Summerland.
Anette felt uncomfortable referring to the bear as “it” even in the privacy of her own mind — it was so articulate she kept forgetting it wasn’t human — but she had little other choice. The polar bear would not give any personal information about itself.
As they lingered over the dessert course, the polar bear turned eyes like bottomless pools on Anette and asked her the question that changed her life: “Would you return to Winterland with me to be queen?”
There was no hesitation in her agreement.
Her father took some convincing, but when the bear promised Anette would be queen of the northern kingdom, he gave his blessing and sent them off with joy.
The journey to the castle in Winterland took most of a day, and they arrived as the sun set behind the snowy mountains. The castle sat at the base of a sheer cliff, towers and turrets capped with snow that sparkled in the last rays of daylight. Anette slid from her perch on the polar bear’s back and shivered. She hadn’t felt the cold while seated on the bear’s warm fur.
Servants greeted them upon entry to the castle, whisking Anette away to an elegant suite of rooms. Thick tapestries and carpets and a roaring fire in the fireplace kept the chill at bay. One serving girl laid out a beautiful dinner on a small table by the fire while two others filled a huge clawfoot tub with steaming water.
After sating her hunger, Anette soaked away the aches and chills in the tub while a serving girl washed and brushed her hair. Then she sat on a couch before the fire, red curls laid out to dry. The servants snuffed the candles and lamps and turned back the bedclothes, then left her alone.
The fatigue of the journey along with the heat of the fire washed over Anette and she drifted nearly off to sleep before the door swung open once more. A slender figure entered the room, pushed the door closed, and stopped just outside of the firelight. A dove grey dress clung to soft curves and ash blond curls tumbled over her shoulders. “I hope you have everything you need?”
Pushing herself up against the cushions on the couch where she was reclining, Anette squinted at the other woman, but couldn’t make out her face. “Yes. Who — ?”
“I have no name that I may give you.”
It couldn’t be. Anette stood up and walked forward. And the woman — the polar bear? — stepped back, deeper into the shadows. “Are you the one who brought me here?” Anette asked, her voice trembling.
“I am.”
“May I see your face?” Anette asked.
“No.” The woman tilted her head, letting pale hair fall forward to further obscure her features. “I am sorry.”
“And you cannot or will not give me your name.” Anette sat back down on the couch and pulled a heavy blanket over her lap. Even with the fire right there, she found the room colder than she liked. “I must have something to call you. How about… Ursa?”
There was a sense of a smile in the shadows. “That would be agreeable to me.” And they talked long into the night.
Every day, Anette explored the castle and grounds, the polar bear often joining her. They played in the snow, the polar bear teaching Anette how to build things with the cold white stuff; they walked in the woods; they supped together at meal time.
And, every night, Ursa came to Anette’s room in human form, and they would talk for hours on end. Ursa kept to the shadows, never letting Anette see her face, and talked about everything except herself.
And yet, though Anette learned little of Ursa’s life and nothing of her family, she felt closer to the sometime polar bear each day, for she was in truth coming to know her in a deeper way. She was falling in love.
One evening, as Yuletide approached, Ursa asked, “Would you like to visit your family for the holidays?”
And Anette delighted in packing to return to the warmer climes of Summerland, though a pang in her heart warned her that she would miss the snowy castle and the one who lived here. “I will come back as soon as I may,” she promised as the polar bear saw her off in a carriage drawn by two large thick-furred horses with hooves like dinner plates.
Back home, Anette’s family greeted her with joy, and the chill slowly faded from her bones as she sat with her sisters in the sun drenched gardens, making crowns of flowers for each other’s hair. “What is it like?” Beata asked, her eyes bright with curiosity.
Anette smiled, her nimble fingers weaving red roses for Carina’s golden hair. “It’s cold and harsh, and oh so beautiful. Snow falls often, covering everything with a cold wet blanket of dazzling white. I thought I would never be warm again, and yet… I miss it.”
Beata let her handsful of white lilies fall into her lap with a sigh. “It sounds terribly romantic, though I doubt I could endure it.”
Carina leaned forward to pluck another daisy. “And the polar bear?” she asked. “He seemed awfully frightening to me.”
“She,” Anette replied, twisting thorny stems together carefully. “Oh, she is wonderful. I call her Ursa, and she has shown me how to make sculptures out of snow. Every night, we sit by the fire and talk until we are falling asleep.”
Beata tilted her head at Anette, the lily crown still forgotten in her lap. “Doesn’t she get warm, with that heavy fur, sitting indoors by the fire?”
“Oh, no.” Anette laughed softly at herself for she had forgotten to tell her sister the best part. “Every night, she becomes human.”
“What is she like?” Carina asked, the daisies now forgotten in her lap as well. “Does she look like us?”
“I don’t know. She won’t show me her face.” A stem slipped in Anette’s grasp and a thorn caught her fingertip. Blood welled and she put the finger in her mouth, blinking away sudden tears.
“Oh, Annie.” Carina leaned forward and put a hand on Anette’s knee, her features twisted with worry. “What if she’s not truly human, even at night? What if she’s a monster?”
Anette was already shaking her head before Carina finished speaking. She took her finger from her mouth to reply, “I’ve come to know her well and she is certainly not a monster.”
“How can you be truly sure if she will not even show her face?”
Anette put her finger back between her lips for her wound was smarting. Did she really know Ursa as she thought she did? Her heart stung along with her fingertip as she considered that she didn’t even know Ursa’s true name.
At her silence, Beata laid aside her lilies and knelt before Anette. “You must get a look at her face, if only to settle your heart. I can give you a cordial that will help her to sleep the next night you are together, and a candle to light her face. If she is true, she will forgive you.”
Anette’s heart was torn, for she dearly wished to trust Ursa, but she was no longer certain in her own feelings. Finally, she accepted her sister’s suggestion, packing the tiny vial and candle along with a pack of matches deep into her trunk.
Back at the castle in Winterland, Anette felt as if she were coming home. Ursa in bear form greeted her at the door and Anette threw her arms around the polar bear’s neck, burying her face in thick white fur. She wouldn’t do it, she decided. She knew Ursa, and she didn’t need to see her face.
But then, after dinner, as she sat by the fire in her room waiting for Ursa, Anette changed her mind once again. She needed to look into Ursa’s human eyes, to ensure that the same soul she saw shining back at her from the polar bear’s eyes was in the human’s. She poured two glasses of wine, then retrieved the vial of cordial and tipped it into one. The clear liquid vanished instantly into the dark red wine.
Anette sat on the couch by the fire, curled under a thick blanket, her hands wrapped around the undoctored glass. The other goblet sat on the table, unassuming in the soft firelight until Ursa picked it up. Guilt seized Anette as Ursa sipped the wine.
But when Ursa sank into the other couch, her breath slowing as she slipped into sleep, Anette stood and took the goblet from her lax fingers before it fell, then retrieved the candle and matches from her trunk. Her hands shook as she struck a match and lit the candle.
As the candlelight illuminated Ursa’s features, Anette leaned in, mesmerized. Finally, she saw Ursa’s face, and it was beautiful and very human. Anette lifted a hand, but stopped short of touching Ursa’s cheek, afraid of waking her. Her sisters’ concerns had been for nothing after all. Ursa was not a monster — she was the most beautiful person Anette had ever seen.
A drop of melting wax fell from the candle and landed on Ursa’s cheek. Her eyes flew open, and Anette looked into the exact same eyes she knew so well on the polar bear. For a long moment, they stared at each other in silence, Ursa’s eyes wide with shock and fear, and even horror.
Then Ursa scrambled to her feet, and Anette fell back out of the way, her heart sinking.
“What have you done?” Ursa demanded, looking down at Anette who cowered on the floor at her feet, the candle extinguished. Ursa’s voice caught on a sob and she continued in a choked voice, “I was so close. Only two days and I would be free!”
Shadows surrounded them, like cold fingers stroking Anette’s skin and hair. She opened her mouth, but couldn’t find the words.
Ursa fell to her knees and grabbed Anette’s arms. “Listen: I don’t have much time. He’s coming for me. My name is Sigrid and I am queen of Winterland. A sorcerer from the West put a curse on me when I wouldn’t marry him, and I could not speak of any of this to anyone for a year and a day.” She shook her head sharply, tears falling down her cheeks. “Two days and I would have been free of him!” Lifting her chin, she pressed her lips together and looked into Anette’s eyes. “He will be here soon to take me away. I will not marry him even now, so he will likely kill me. I love you, Anette. I am sorry.” She bent forward and dropped a searing kiss on Anette’s lips.
Anette blinked and Ursa — Sigrid — was gone.
