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Vivi is a morning person, if not by nature, then through sheer power of will. The early bird gets the worm, after all. When she’d first heard the phrase as a child, a baffled Pell had to insist a dozen times over that no, he doesn’t eat worms, Where’d you hear such a thing, Your Highness, but over the years she found that the metaphor holds true. Important decisions get made in the mornings, be it a navigator plotting a ship’s course for the day, or the Royal Council debating legislation over cups of coffee, and Vivi can’t afford to miss out on getting a say.
Still – is it ever tempting sometimes to just laze around under the covers.
It’s especially bad this morning, when Vivi moves to get up and instantly finds herself shivering. Cold nights are nothing new, but the sun must’ve risen by now, and the many buildings of Alubarna trap heat between their walls. It must’ve been some cold snap to linger past daybreak, Vivi muses blearily as she drapes the blanket over her shoulders and pushes herself up to her feet. Best remember to check on the gardens later, and perhaps bring up the matter of palace insulation to the architects…
It's as she tries to remember if any plants they grow are particularly susceptible to cold that she finally makes her way across the room to the window and draws the curtains open.
Then blinks.
Blinks again.
As a kid, Vivi wasn’t much for arts and crafts – it had dismayed Igaram and the others greatly, no doubt, that the princess would rather race around city streets than play with crayons – but she did like glitter. It was shiny and hard to get rid of; if you tipped a bottle over your hands, you wouldn’t stop sparkling in the sun for days no matter how much anyone scrubbed at you.
This morning, it’s like someone tipped a bottle of glitter over the whole city.
The rooftops are white; the streets are white; the desert is white as far as her eye can see. The sky is heavy with clouds, but the sun rays still manage to thread their way between them. The crystalline shimmer of it all almost makes her eyes hurt, but she can’t look away. Alubarna, in short, is covered in snow.
In snow!
Suddenly, Vivi is wide awake.
Granted, there is a part of her that feels like she must still be sleeping, but that hypothetical is secondary for now. If she’s having an especially vivid dream, then so be it; but if she isn’t (and the sting of her forearm as she pinches her skin between manicured fingernails leads her to think she isn’t), then there’s work to get done.
Karoo, who is not a morning person – uh, duck – and whom she usually lets nap until midday unless she has a pressing need for transportation, nonetheless stirs at his spot by the foot of her bed, chittering in displeasure as she tugs at his wing. On a different day she might’ve apologized for waking him, but this morning such concerns fade into the background as she does her best to maneuver his sleepy form into facing the world outside.
“Karoo,” she says, breathlessly. “Karoo, it’s snowing!”
That, at least, is enough to stir him awake. Vivi bites back a laugh as his dinner-plate eyes blink open towards the window she’d left uncovered, though it’s harder to contain her amusement once Karoo practically topples over in his attempt to press his head against the glass. In a moment of generally unfounded paranoia, Vivi is glad she isn’t imagining the fact that this is… odd.
The outfit she picks out for herself is as stately as ever, even if she still feels the buzzing beneath her skin as she pulls the silken robes over it. She’s out the door as soon as she’s done dressing, but unsurprisingly, she’s far from the first – even had this been a regular day, the servants and guards would’ve already been up for hours, and it’s nothing of the sort. Sure, the palace wing housing the royal bedrooms is normally kept quiet in the mornings, but normal is not exactly the word of the day; and so, as the click-clack of her heels and the pitter-patter of Karoo’s feet echo between the walls, whispers and shrieks and cheers accompany their every step.
For many, Vivi is sure, this is their first time seeing snow. For the rest, it’s at least got to be their first time seeing snow in Alabasta. She doesn’t remember every date from her childhood history lessons, but she’s willing to bet that it’s been over a hundred years since their desert had last seen a snowfall. And so, everyone’s delighted; and so, she can’t deny the excited twinges in her own heart; and so – well – isn’t this a concern?
As she pushes it open, the throne room door slams against the wall in a way that would undoubtedly disappoint every etiquette teacher Vivi has ever had, only barely missing Pell who is standing guard by it. Fortunately, everyone inside already knows of the many other ways she’d disappointed every etiquette teacher she’s ever had, so she doesn’t waste her time with apologies as she makes her way over to her designated spot. Karoo curls up at her feet.
“Hello, Vivi,” her father says, mildly.
“Snow?” Vivi says, gesturing somewhat frantically towards the floor-to-ceiling window, before clearing her throat. “Hello, father.”
“Snow,” Cobra confirms, unperturbed by her transgressions of decorum. His throne is turned to face away from the glass, but his neck is craned enough that it’s clear he’s watching the streets below with a curious eye. “Isn’t it fascinating?”
“Yes,” Vivi says, because it is.
“Isn’t it worrying?” she follows up immediately, because it is that, too. Her eyes find Koza’s across the table, though her gaze doesn’t earn much of a reaction beyond an eyebrow quirked over the rim of his customary sunglasses.
“Are you asking me?”
“You are the Environmental Minister,” Vivi reminds him, doing his best to mirror his expression. “I’m pretty sure this falls within your job description.”
“Don’t let him fool you, Vivi,” her father chuckles, gesturing at a sizable pile of opened books and loose sheets of paper laid out between him and Igaram, the latter of whom has his head buried in one of them. As Vivi glances down, she catches mentions of climate abnormalities and low-temperature-induced infrastructural instabilities of Alabastan architecture. “I’ve had these on my desk since before I got up this morning. Koza here’s more on top of things than the rest of us.”
“I wake up early,” Koza shrugs. Vivi assesses the number of the reports that look hand-written in hurried shorthand, and thinks that she might need to reassess her definition of being a morning person.
“Not to say you’re wrong,” Cobra continues. “At best this is merely unusual, but we all remember what the previous period of unusual weather patterns had signified for Alabasta.” His voice is matter-of-fact, but the allusion to the drought doesn’t need to be spoken gravely to get his point across. “Nonetheless, I don’t think looking for an underlying cause is the best way to spend our energy today.”
That, Vivi can agree with. They’ll need to get to the bottom of this soon, but the morning of the first snowfall in a hundred years is not the time for it. Proper analysis requires if not a clear head, then at least a less frazzled one, and with the way the icy shimmer of the ground below keeps catching her eye, Vivi doubts she’ll be of much use for research. Even Igaram, she’s pretty sure, hasn’t turned a page of his book since she got here, and he’s never anything less than committed.
Still – “We have to do something, though,” she says, tugging her sleeves down over her knuckles. “Everyone in the country will know how strange this is. We need to reassure them we won’t let it get bad again.”
Koza nods vigorously in agreement. Her father and Igaram glance at him, then at her, then at one another. Their unspoken conversations are as inscrutable to Vivi now as they had been when she was a child. She always thought she’d understand them one day, have a moment of enlightenment and be able to finally recognize – Oh, so that’s what father is trying to convey when his eyes crease like that. Maybe she’ll have that moment yet, but today, as Cobra’s gaze finds hers again, the only thing she reads in it is soft melancholy.
“Your sense of responsibility is befitting of a future queen,” he says in a voice that reflects the same. “And you, Koza, will be a marvelous minister for years to come.”
His words hang in the room for a moment, a compliment that feels just a touch too sincere, before he chuckles again and gathers the loose sheets in front of him in a decisive motion.
“Tell you what. We’ll leave these for tomorrow. I’m sure they will be very insightful, thank you, Koza.” He passes the uneven stack of papers to Igaram, who sets to straightening it out. “Vivi’s right, we don’t want anyone to be uneasy. But they’re not going to get any less uneasy if we lock ourselves in a room as though we’re in a crisis. So if you two are amendable, here’s what I’ll have you do for now –” he glances between her and Koza, a smile tugging at his lips as they lean forward in anticipation of his orders – “go play in the snow.”
Vivi blinks.
“It’s not without sense,” Igaram speaks up hurriedly, noticing, perhaps, the confusion they are radiating. “Our people know how responsible you are. They know you would not be out having fun if we had any genuine concerns about the country’s safety.”
“You are the youngest government representatives Alabasta has,” Pell adds from his post by the door. “Not to mention, between the two of you, you have the faith of both the people who trust King Cobra, and those who still have their doubts.” (Despite herself, Vivi has to hold back a laugh at the way he purses his lips.) “You will be the most naturally approachable for anyone who has concerns.”
“Well said,” Cobra nods, leaning back in his chair. “You’ll supervise them, Pell, won’t you? Make sure everything goes smoothly.” There’s a meaningful lilt to his voice as he says it, the same pointed look in his eyes that he was giving Igaram earlier. Vivi’s still not sure what she is meant to take from it, but she can’t deny that she sees their argument.
“Okay,” she says. “That – we can do that.”
“Your Majesty,” Koza tacks on, getting up and offering her father a bow. He returns it with a magnanimous nod.
“Don’t forget your coats!”
The pickings for winter clothes turn out to be slim even in the extensive wardrobes of the royal palace. In the end, all Vivi manages to find for herself is a long blue robe, and Pell locates a white scarf to loop around her neck. Karoo does not look bothered by the idea of going out in the cold, so she does not insist he equip himself with anything beyond his usual hat. Koza slips his gloved hands into the sleeves of his coat instead of letting it hang off his shoulders.
“Well,” he says, “let’s go.”
The cold hits Vivi the second they step outside. It’s not unexpected, but she still finds herself unprepared for the shock of frosty air that fills her lungs. She’d seen snow before – once, on Drum Island – but that had been different; so much had been different. Today, as she treads over the palace grounds towards the Central Square, glancing behind her every few seconds to marvel at the footprints she leaves, she finds herself remarkably more free to appreciate its beauty.
If her father’s goal was for them to be seen by the citizens, they had certainly come to the right place. The Central Square and the streets adjoining it are astir, full of shrieks and laughter, of children wearing their parents’ clothes in an imitation of winter coats, and adults with the snow’s twinkle reflected in their eyes. As they pass, Vivi returns the waves they’re given with a ready smile. Karoo, ever the beloved figure, is surrounded instantly by a gaggle of kids who are gesturing towards the snowdrifts that must have been intentionally fashioned by the nearby walls. Experiments on which material makes for the best sled appear to be well underway, and duck seems to be the next contestant. Vivi would bet on that one, personally. She knows how slippery Karoo can be.
Koza, a beloved figure in his own right, lets himself be drawn into a snowball fight between some teenagers darting from cover to cover between buildings and statues. It doesn’t take long for them to single him out as the biggest threat and band together in an attempt to bury him in the snow, but he holds his own admirably. Vivi watches them for a while, making sure to cheer each time one of the kids does manage to land a hit, then turns away to take stock of the rest of the square. There is a still-growing snowman army in one corner, and another is occupied by a newly established stall distributing steaming mugs of spiced tea. She moves to make her way towards it – it’s where people seem to congregate for making conversation – but immediately almost trips over a kid lying on the ground.
“Sorry!” she yelps, righting herself. The boy laughs, hopping up to his feet. The back of his shirt is soaked through, but he doesn’t seem to mind.
“That’s fine,” he says. “Look!” He gestures down to where he was just lying, the snow flattened in the shape of his torso and in sweeping arcs around the arms and legs. “It’s a snow angel! Or a snow bird? I read about ‘em in a book!”
“Don’t bother the good princess, Yaren,” a woman calls out as she steps over from the direction of the stall, carrying two mugs of tea.
“Oh, it’s no trouble!” Vivi protests, but the kid is already darting off with a laugh. The woman hands her one of the mugs, and Vivi nods gratefully, wrapping her fingers around it.
“He’s been up since dawn,” the woman chuckles. “Was the first to see it. Woke the whole house up with his excitement.”
“I can imagine,” Vivi hums, glancing at her out of the corner of her eye. “It’s not caused you any issues, has it? The snow, I mean.”
“Oh, quite on the contrary. We needed this, I think. It’s been a long few years.”
“I know,” Vivi says. “I’m sorry.”
“I do not mean it as an accusation, Your Highness.” The woman meets Vivi’s gaze, and the look in her eyes is the same as the one in her father’s eyes earlier, or in Pell’s eyes still where he’s standing guard. “It’s only – he had to grow up so fast. They all did. It’s good to see them get to play again.”
“Oh,” Vivi says. The woman smiles and reaches over to adjust Vivi's scarf.
Vivi finishes her tea. She returns the mug to the stall, then finds her way to Pell’s side, next to the snowdrift where Karoo has been dutifully offering rides to cheering children. He flaps his wings, adjusting his course so he comes to a stop next to her, and quacks in greeting. Vivi pats his beak.
“Your Highness,” Pell says, inclining his head. “All is well, I trust?”
“Seems so,” Vivi says. She gestures back towards Yaren’s winged imprint in the snow, one among many. “Snow birds, apparently. Snow Pells? Snow Karoos?”
“I believe the correct term would be snow angels,” Pell notes, ever pedantic.
“Yeah, and the correct weather for a February in Alabasta would be warm and sunny,” Vivi shrugs. “Correctness is overrated.”
She waits for him to raise his eyebrow, caught slightly off-guard, then grabs his arm and pulls him to the ground with her. Karoo gets with the program and goes down willingly (smart duck!), his feathers brushing over her shoulder as he throws his wings wide.
“Come on!” she grins at Pell, flopping onto her back and shivering in chilly delight at the touch of snow under her collar. “We didn’t come out here for nothing, did we? When’s the next time it’s going to snow?”
Pell doesn’t answer, of course, because he doesn’t know – because no one knows, not Vivi, nor Koza, nor her father. They might figure it out tomorrow, or they might not; in any case, they’ll do their best. But that will be tomorrow.
Today, Vivi will hear more than see Pell lie down next to her. He will make sure to sigh in exasperation as he does, but it will be hard to take it seriously with how readily he spreads his arms, flattening out a pair of snow wings of his own. Vivi will laugh towards the sky, snowflakes melting on her tongue and beneath the sweeping sleeves of her coat. They will lie there, basking in the laughter ringing through the air above them, and when they get up again, there will be three new snow birds on the ground, arranged into a lopsided circle. The circle will remain there, untrampled, long after Vivi and Karoo get drawn away by the sight of Koza still getting chased by screaming teens with snowballs in their gloveless hands. They’ll join the fray, but during the few lulls in the skirmish that follows, Vivi will glance back over her shoulder. There, through the falling snowflakes, she will spot Pell looking down at the winged silhouettes, and when she sees the suddenly-not-so-unreadable smile on his lips, Vivi will feel warm.