She walks down the dirty white, snow packed sidewalk, pale skin nearly blending into the white wash of winter. Her head is held high, and she seems to ignore the world around her. She hides in her own head, and ignores the slushballs that are pelted at the back of her head, even when they start to sting. The cold water goes from shocking, to sore, to numbing, and all the while she ignores it, and keeps herself aloof.

Why should she bother? She was branded as cold and detached as early as elementary school. No one bothered to talk to the little girl in the back of the class, who's sad little scowl never faded. By middle school she was "the Ice Princess," and that was when this ritual began. To see if snow and cruelty could crack even the Ice Princess's façade.

Another ball of slush hits her, and this time a sharp bit of ice scratches across her neck, leaving thin, blood spotted tracks on her snowy skin. She holds her head up all the higher, and blocks out the high laughing behind her. She hasn't cried before, and won't make a precedent today. There have been bigger blocks of ice than that tiny shard, and much more than a bloody trail.

Of course, those balls of ice never hit her face. They would always leave little bruises, even through her padded coat, but never where anyone could see. Even the time a jagged ice projectile bigger than two fists put together had been catapulted into her back, nearly sending her to the cold walkway below her gasping for breathe, there had been little more than a light bluish mark, something no one would ever see.

As long as they could be ignored, she would do so. Why bother with them, these people who would judge her without ever even speaking to her? They knew all they needed to know. They knew she was the Ice Princess with the uncracked shell, immune to all the cruelties of the world, and in need of breaking. Let them try. She would hold her head up, feel the freezing reminder of who she was day after day. She would ignore them and be left to the throne she had helped to make, and never cry lest the salt and warm water wash it away.