The Fae Realm was a land shrouded in mystery and romance.
A place which existed before the first dreams were had. When time dawned on the world, so too did the fae. They were the First Children. A race whose commitment to tales and magic were woven into whatever blood they possessed.
The fae were mythical. And yet they were real. And they were dangerous.
To some, they were noises in the night. Mischievous neighbours who delighted in the laughter of children and the teasing of riddles.
To others, they were adversaries. Foes who stole away cattle and people alike, to be treated as playthings and toys until broken, saved only when boredom arrived and a broken husk was all that's left to wander beneath the ancient trees of the Wovencoille.
And yet for all their revelry and mischief, they themselves were not children.
They were beings of immense power, whose years of learning transcended the most aged of our scholars. Within their libraries were troves of knowledge worth more than any trinket or jewel.
Only the fae could claim to gaze at the future, because they had seen the past.
They were young and ancient. Merry and sombre. A race locked in youth, and yet old as time. A race formed of mysteries, whose wants were as shrouded as the stars behind a darkened cloud.
And none encapsulated this more than the Queens of the Seasonal Courts.
They were paragons of wisdom. Bastions of power. Fountains of secrecy.
And most importantly, they were royalty.
Which is why I, Juliette Contzen, 3rd Princess to the Kingdom of Tirea and marvel of diplomacy–was currently pushing away the Winter Queen as she attempted to cling onto my arm.
“W-Where is the door?! Where is the exit?! Why is there no door?!”
“Please! Just listen! It'll only take a moment! Listen, listen!”
“How can there be no door?! How can you exit and enter this room?! I demand you release me at once!”
“As I said, I just want you to listen! I'll let you go afterwards, I promise! You just need to listen ... and also say yes!”
“E-Excuse me?! I'll do no such thing! This is kidnapping! This is … This is highly against etiquette!”
“It's not kidnapping! It's temporarily impeding your movement!”
“... That's kidnapping!”
Yes, indeed.
When I saw the Queens of Summer, Autumn or Spring, I would nod my head and extend to them all the courtesies required of me as a representative of my kingdom.
Our conversations would be deep and insightful as we touched on aspects of philosophy, art and culture that only a meeting between an immortal queen and a mortal princess could deliver. And when the day came that I could be graced with the dignity and integrity of a fae queen, I would seize the chance with both hands … as opposed to shooing it away with the vigour of batting a fly.
“I have given my answer already!” I said, pressing my palms against the white wall as I felt for a hidden exit. “Repeatedly! I know what you'll ask, and I refuse to listen!”
“You don't know what I'm going to ask!”
I stopped.
And then, I peered around the room.
A barren, white space devoid of even a single bookshelf filled with hidden riches.
No mirrors to admire one's own appearance.
No dressers filled with gowns still wet from the tears of seamstresses as they bled their hands sewing gemstones smaller than an eyelash into the trims.
It was, without a shadow of a doubt, the most offensively boring bedroom in any realm in existence.
Even without her sparkly eyes filled with optimism as she gazed at me, I knew precisely what she planned to ask. I was as unparalleled a maestro in the art of intrigue as I was at the piano.
But against such an openly wanton expression of desire, my talents were sorely wasted.
Even so–I pursed my lips.
Yes, the slovenly appearance of the Winter Queen as she'd assaulted her pillow was unsettling. And yes, the way this revered being of unmatched power and ancient wisdom begged and pleaded for my attention was highly against decorum … but perhaps the fae were simply so blindingly different to us that I was misreading the situation?
Surely, my worst fears would never be materialised? How could the ruler of the Winter Court reduce herself to throwing all manner of pride away before a princess she'd never once encountered?
“Very well,” I said, keeping her at arm's distance as best I could. “I will hear out your request, providing that you make it brief and concise.”
Yet again, the Winter Queen's eyes sparkled.
“Truly? You'll listen? And you won't immediately try fleeing again?”
I couldn't bear to answer.
Instead, I didn't outright decline. The art of politics at its finest.
“Your request?” I asked, very, very slowly.
The Winter Queen clapped her hands together.
“I'd like you to pocket me, preferably on your head, so that I can experience free and plentiful entertainment without having to lift a finger myself.”
Yes!
Here it was!
The most ludicrous request I'd ever received in my short life!
To even be able to claim that with such absolute certainty was staggering! I was a princess! People begged, pleaded and bawled for everything from me! My hand in marriage! My wealth! And if the anonymous note delivered to me by a weeping maid was true, my socks!
And yet here it was–the request to eclipse all requests!
“Where is the door?!” I said, slapping my palms against the wall once again. “There must be one somewhere! You cannot hide it forever!”
“Please! I'm willing to make you a deal! Just hear me out!”
“I've heard enough! Release me at once!”
I stopped as my eyes caught sight of the window.
It wouldn't be the most glorious of exits. But it wouldn't be the worst, either. And so I immediately strode over. Or attempted to.
“Waaaaaait!”
To my horror, I suddenly felt a tugging around my ankles.
Looking down, I saw the Queen of the Winter Court anchoring herself to the floor, her arms clinging around my legs while she flapped her fragile wings to hold me still.
“W-What are you doing?! You … You must rise from the floor at once!”
“Only if you help me!”
“This … This is not befitting a queen! Where is your pride?!”
“I don't have any!”
I leaned down, grabbed the Winter Queen's arms, then attempted to pull her up. She responded by tightening her grip around my ankles.
“You are not a peasant! Your royal status must be adhered to at all times! Desist this shameful display at once! You are the Winter Queen! It is beneath you!”
“I don't care! You have no idea how bored I am! I need mindless, easy to consume entertainment! I long for diversions appealing to the lowest common denominator! I wish to laugh without any thought to nuance or subtlety! I desire to binge on fried potatoes while caring only for the warmth of a magically heated blanket!”
Squeak. Squeak. Squeak.
My boots scraped against the floor as I slowly dragged myself towards the window.
“Then do so! There's nothing stopping the Queen of the Winter Court from doing precisely as she wishes! Tour the bookshops of my kingdom and fill this dreary bedroom with best selling fiction and shelves to hide them in when the servants come to clean!”
“I cannot! The Custodian of Treasures takes away all my belongings! That jobsworth of a Count insists that everything I touch counts as treasure, and so I have nothing to entertain myself!”
“He's your subject! Order him to desist!”
“I do! I order him to stop, imprison, impale, drown and burn himself! But then he withers away and another Custodian of Treasures comes and continues the cycle! Only when I'm stolen can I have any retreat from my prison of duty and boredom! I don't want to work anymore!”
I reached the window at last.
Opening the latch, I pulled open the white frame to reveal the twilight horizon. And then I tried sticking my head through.
Bam.
Only to hit my head against something very solid instead.
“W-What is this! Have you entrapped me in a room of illusions?!”
The Winter Queen looked away, trying and failing to whistle innocently.
“This isn't an illusion. This is a sliver of the Fae Realm, existing only in my mind.”
My mouth fell open. I looked down at the Winter Queen still clinging to my ankles.
“You kidnapped me into your mind?”
“Only so that we may speak in peace! Rest assured that while you're here, neither harm nor the passage of time will affect you in the world outside!”
I crossed my arms.
“I am not assured in the slightest! Return me to my own mind! I have a duke to publicly humiliate and each moment that passes is an opportunity to forget the list of witty insults I have prepared!”
To my dismay, the glimmer of opportunism blared in the Winter Queen's eyes.
“Yes! The disgusting old man! Your subject stole me and hid me away in a pathetic excuse for a treasure vault, as if I was some mere trinket to sit upon poorly minted coins! You at least owe me the courtesy of hearing the wonderful idea I have!”
I quietly groaned.
She might be keen to desecrate the image of royal decorum. But I was not.
At least one of us needed to offer a show of formality here. And so I sucked in a deep breath while closing my eyes.
“... Very well. I extend my apologies, Winter Queen. For not only the actions of my treasonous subject, but also the gall that he presumed to know your wishes.”
Indeed, few could ever know what they were.
And if luck would look kindly on me, a falling plant pot on my head would ensure that I'd no longer be counted amongst that number.
“Quite so!” said the Winter Queen, somehow shuffling closer towards me. “The discourtesy deserves nothing less than eternal imprisonment! To steal me and then bargain with me with such petty offers is a grave insult! I have no need for fields of trampled grass when the Fae Realm is as boundless as the horizon! And a host for my powers cannot be found in some wooden hovel! Such a find can only surface by my own designs ...”
She looked up purposefully. Again, I failed to shake her off.
“Please wear me!”
“I will not! If you wish to be worn, then ask another princess. I refuse to have the entire Winter Court causing a ruckus through my lands in order to retrieve you after you've had your fill of entertainment!”
“Listen, I have a plan! I've been engineering a snow double! I call her Peppy. She's a perfect copy of me! She can only scowl and look cross, but that's all that's needed! I think I can get away for at least two centuries before anyone notices something is wrong! I can slack off while pretending to do my duties!”
I was appalled … and very slightly intrigued.
But mostly appalled!
“A wonderful subterfuge, but one which doesn't help me in the slightest! I haven't the time or the inclination to carry you atop my head like some common tour guide! I have duties to attend to! And I will see them through without distractions!”
The Winter Queen released her arms from my ankles.
However, she didn't stand. Instead, she remained where she was, a beautiful heap on the floor as she puffed out her cheeks.
But she wasn't entirely crestfallen. And she was not yet done.
“... I saw you,” she said, her voice suddenly quieter, calmer. “Though that was not my intent. While considering how I could yet make the Snow Dancer my next host, I saw you handily defeat her.”
“In that case, I believe I'm due for additional gratitude. I've saved you from someone whose social prowess is less than a freshly raised baroness.”
“Yes, well, that was always going to be an issue. Even so, it was not her personality I sought, it was her martial skill. And yes, her appearance. Yet it was not her who proved triumphant in the snow. A princess defeating a sword saint is a feat deserving of my consideration.”
“She fought valiantly and excellently,” I said, changing tact at once. “She would make a fine host for your renewal, and I suggest that you not take no for an answer.”
“Then I'll do just that. Please wear me!”
“No!”
“It is perilous for me to don my true form outside of the Crown of Winter, and is a danger only extreme boredom can push me to risk!”
“Your boredom doesn't concern me in the slightest!”
“Then consider this–that should you wear me, then any foe who stands before you will be swept aside like leaves in a storm! From the towers in the east to the sands in the south, you will find that winter's shadow triumphs over all!”
I rolled my eyes.
Ugh, foreign royalty.
At least with nobility, I could say no and that was sufficient.
But for foreign queens?
I had to state it repeatedly.
And that was somehow acceptable! The things that I had to put up with as a diplomat!
… Thus, I offered a scoff instead. The prelude to my final refusal.
“I think not,” I stated firmly. “There is no exchange involving your crown which will allow me to keep what's most precious to me.”
The Winter Queen did not deny the charge. Instead, her eyes suddenly became interested in something in the corner as she whistled once more.
“It won't be that bad. By the time my immense, unbridled powers of winter have eaten away at your sanity and claimed you as my new host, you would have achieved a thousand lifetimes' worth of legacy. This is well worth the cost of your soul.”
“Please, I do not fear for my soul in the slightest.”
“Excuse me?”
The Winter Queen blinked. A waste of fluttering eyelashes.
Indeed, looking upon her slovenly appearance as she sat on the floor, it was utterly clear to me that she had as much capacity to eat away at my soul as the mice scurrying through the roofs of inns did. And I feared them much more.
No, my concerns were far more practical.
“I will not wear anything which threatens the immaculate nature of my hair, currently free of any sharp headpieces to snatch and claw at it. And so I decline. I'm already destined for a crown to eventually snag at my scalp, and it's not yours. Furthermore, your powers of unbridled winter are utterly useless to me. I have no need for winter when I have my smile, my boot, and my sword.”
The Winter Queen opened her mouth wordlessly.
And then–she smiled.
And so for the first time, I saw an expression which did not completely sully her dignity.
“... And what do you intend to achieve with your smile, your boot, and your sword, then? What noble ambitions do you intend to realise, Princess of Tirea, which has you duelling sword saints while refusing the power of the fae?”
“A soap crafting empire with complete market monopoly across the continent.”
The Winter Queen paused and blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“A soap crafting empire,” I repeated. “One which will have every rogue, ruffian and knave contributing to its success, with enough income generation that my gratuitous living expenses are guaranteed for life.”
The fae woman said nothing.
And then she laughed.
“Is that so? … Then perhaps I won't need to see you cover the world with ice to be entertained. Why, with designs as grand as that, you may very well fulfil me without my assistance.”
The woman before me stood up, carried less by her legs and more by her wings.
“An exchange, then,” she declared. “Lesser than my power for your soul, as novel as that is to me. Consider instead carrying a mere shard of me. This I propose, so that I may watch the story you have yet to tell. In exchange, I will offer a reward to outmatch the sparse inconvenience you will endure. I shall open the armoury, the treasury and the library of the Winter Court to you.”
I paused as this sudden offer was put before me.
Well now, wasn't she stubborn?
Truly, her insistence could only be seen as flattery. Especially when she's now offering a reward to merely hoist her in my pocket like a towngirl on an errand. And were I anyone other than me, I would surely fall over my own feet in a rush to accept any fae proposition which came my way.
I, however, was a princess.
And I did not accept offers. I dictated them.
Ohohohohoho!
Because wherever here was did not matter!
Outside, my feet still remained rooted in my kingdom! And the only queen whose offers I entertained were my mother's! … Mostly because I had no choice!
“No,” I said simply.
The Winter Queen had the gall to look surprised.
“You will not even consider my offer?”
“Not even for a moment. But I will let you consider mine. Because if you wish to know of my exploits, then I'll instead offer you the greatest gift that anyone can receive.”
“... Oh? And what would that be?”
I placed my hand atop my chest.
“A short bit of my time.”
The Winter Queen's arctic eyes blinked in non-understanding.
“Excuse me?”
I held up my finger.
“For one single evening of my busy schedule, I shall regale to you a resplendent tale of my exploits. A superlatively delivered account to trample the mundane pulp which resides in your libraries. No minstrel's song, artist's painting, poet's drivel or peasant's tears will compare to my recounting as I drive you to weep and gasp at the words from my own lips. This is what I offer. My own tale as I sweep aside the ills that befall my kingdom. And should you wish to hear it, then you will have to pay the cost. In advance. In full.”
For a moment, the Winter Queen made no movement.
And then–
“Pffftthahawahaha … pwaahahahahahaah!”
Her laughter bellowed out like the worst of tavern drunks.
I even had to mask my face against her spittle. Spittle which frosted over immediately with the power of winter. I had to work to wipe it off! The ignominy!
“Ah, such fine petulance from a mere princess,” she said, wiping a frozen tear from the edge of her eyes. “And yet tales are the only things which even my dreadful Custodian of Treasures cannot take from me. Go on, Princess of Tirea. I will hear your price, if only because this meeting alone has provided more entertainment than I have experienced in many long winters.”
I slowly dropped my hands from my face, watching to make sure she didn't spontaneously assault me with her wintry fluids again.
“Then my cost is as follows–you shall depart for the Fae Realm, as you doubtlessly can, taking your throng from the Wovencoille as you do so. The pacts which exist between us will be renewed, allowing our lumber mills to continue blithely exploiting your ancient woodlands, while any peasants you've snatched must be washed before they're returned. And as a courtesy, you may aid in ensuring my treasonous duke will not be in a position to complain when I place him in his own dungeons. I have no wish to waste my [Princess Boot] on a man as undeserving as him.”
The Winter Queen smiled. I brought up my arms again.
“Is that all?” she said simply.
I thought for a moment.
“... Also, you must never sing again until you have familiarised yourself with the difference between F and F#.”
The Winter Queen's smile vanished.
Instead, she returned to puffing her cheeks.
“My singing is–”
“Like a kettle wishing for death. Please do not do it.”
The woman's mouth opened wide. That was fine. I was content with her silence. Just not her singing.
“I … I am self-taught!” she explained in a huff, not looking me in the eye. “Furthermore, what you propose is less an offer and more a series of demands. Much though I'd pay to see your ill humour directed at others, may I remind you that I was stolen? Your offer is far too lopsided.”
Why, I was glad she agreed with my assessment.
“Correct. For a single evening of my time, I'm being far too generous. Because you also made the grave error of sitting before me in my own kingdom. And so what I've stated happens to be the least of my costs.”
And then–
I looked at the Winter Queen's crystal framed, four-poster bed, curtained with blue velvet and with pillows softer than an angel's feathers.
The Winter Queen followed my gaze, then blinked at me.
“You cannot be serious,” she said.
I smiled, raising my hand to my lips.
“Ohhohohoho … why, I'm always serious.”
The Fae Realm was a land shrouded in mystery and romance.
A place which existed before the first dreams were had. When time dawned on the world, so too did the fae. They were the First Children. A race whose commitment to tales and magic were woven into whatever blood they possessed.
The fae were mythical. And yet they were real. And they were dangerous.
To some, they were noises in the night. Mischievous neighbours who delighted in the laughter of children and the teasing of riddles.
To others, they were adversaries. Foes who stole away cattle and people alike, to be treated as playthings and toys until broken, saved only when boredom arrived and a broken husk was all that's left to wander beneath the ancient trees of the Wovencoille.
And yet for all their revelry and mischief, they themselves were not children.
They were beings of immense power, whose years of learning transcended the most aged of our scholars. Within their libraries were troves of knowledge worth more than any trinket or jewel.
Only the fae could claim to gaze at the future, because they had seen the past.
They were young and ancient. Merry and sombre. A race locked in youth, and yet old as time. A race formed of mysteries, whose wants were as shrouded as the stars behind a darkened cloud.
And none encapsulated this more than the Queens of the Seasonal Courts.
They were paragons of wisdom. Bastions of power. Fountains of secrecy.
And most importantly, they were royalty.
Which is why I, Juliette Contzen, 3rd Princess to the Kingdom of Tirea and marvel of diplomacy–was currently pushing away the Winter Queen as she attempted to cling onto my arm.
“W-Where is the door?! Where is the exit?! Why is there no door?!”
“Please! Just listen! It'll only take a moment! Listen, listen!”
“How can there be no door?! How can you exit and enter this room?! I demand you release me at once!”
“As I said, I just want you to listen! I'll let you go afterwards, I promise! You just need to listen ... and also say yes!”
“E-Excuse me?! I'll do no such thing! This is kidnapping! This is … This is highly against etiquette!”
“It's not kidnapping! It's temporarily impeding your movement!”
“... That's kidnapping!”
Yes, indeed.
When I saw the Queens of Summer, Autumn or Spring, I would nod my head and extend to them all the courtesies required of me as a representative of my kingdom.
Our conversations would be deep and insightful as we touched on aspects of philosophy, art and culture that only a meeting between an immortal queen and a mortal princess could deliver. And when the day came that I could be graced with the dignity and integrity of a fae queen, I would seize the chance with both hands … as opposed to shooing it away with the vigour of batting a fly.
“I have given my answer already!” I said, pressing my palms against the white wall as I felt for a hidden exit. “Repeatedly! I know what you'll ask, and I refuse to listen!”
“You don't know what I'm going to ask!”
I stopped.
And then, I peered around the room.
A barren, white space devoid of even a single bookshelf filled with hidden riches.
No mirrors to admire one's own appearance.
No dressers filled with gowns still wet from the tears of seamstresses as they bled their hands sewing gemstones smaller than an eyelash into the trims.
It was, without a shadow of a doubt, the most offensively boring bedroom in any realm in existence.
Even without her sparkly eyes filled with optimism as she gazed at me, I knew precisely what she planned to ask. I was as unparalleled a maestro in the art of intrigue as I was at the piano.
But against such an openly wanton expression of desire, my talents were sorely wasted.
Even so–I pursed my lips.
Yes, the slovenly appearance of the Winter Queen as she'd assaulted her pillow was unsettling. And yes, the way this revered being of unmatched power and ancient wisdom begged and pleaded for my attention was highly against decorum … but perhaps the fae were simply so blindingly different to us that I was misreading the situation?
Surely, my worst fears would never be materialised? How could the ruler of the Winter Court reduce herself to throwing all manner of pride away before a princess she'd never once encountered?
“Very well,” I said, keeping her at arm's distance as best I could. “I will hear out your request, providing that you make it brief and concise.”
Yet again, the Winter Queen's eyes sparkled.
“Truly? You'll listen? And you won't immediately try fleeing again?”
I couldn't bear to answer.
Instead, I didn't outright decline. The art of politics at its finest.
“Your request?” I asked, very, very slowly.
The Winter Queen clapped her hands together.
“I'd like you to pocket me, preferably on your head, so that I can experience free and plentiful entertainment without having to lift a finger myself.”
Yes!
Here it was!
The most ludicrous request I'd ever received in my short life!
To even be able to claim that with such absolute certainty was staggering! I was a princess! People begged, pleaded and bawled for everything from me! My hand in marriage! My wealth! And if the anonymous note delivered to me by a weeping maid was true, my socks!
And yet here it was–the request to eclipse all requests!
“Where is the door?!” I said, slapping my palms against the wall once again. “There must be one somewhere! You cannot hide it forever!”
“Please! I'm willing to make you a deal! Just hear me out!”
“I've heard enough! Release me at once!”
I stopped as my eyes caught sight of the window.
It wouldn't be the most glorious of exits. But it wouldn't be the worst, either. And so I immediately strode over. Or attempted to.
“Waaaaaait!”
To my horror, I suddenly felt a tugging around my ankles.
Looking down, I saw the Queen of the Winter Court anchoring herself to the floor, her arms clinging around my legs while she flapped her fragile wings to hold me still.
“W-What are you doing?! You … You must rise from the floor at once!”
“Only if you help me!”
“This … This is not befitting a queen! Where is your pride?!”
“I don't have any!”
I leaned down, grabbed the Winter Queen's arms, then attempted to pull her up. She responded by tightening her grip around my ankles.
“You are not a peasant! Your royal status must be adhered to at all times! Desist this shameful display at once! You are the Winter Queen! It is beneath you!”
“I don't care! You have no idea how bored I am! I need mindless, easy to consume entertainment! I long for diversions appealing to the lowest common denominator! I wish to laugh without any thought to nuance or subtlety! I desire to binge on fried potatoes while caring only for the warmth of a magically heated blanket!”
Squeak. Squeak. Squeak.
My boots scraped against the floor as I slowly dragged myself towards the window.
“Then do so! There's nothing stopping the Queen of the Winter Court from doing precisely as she wishes! Tour the bookshops of my kingdom and fill this dreary bedroom with best selling fiction and shelves to hide them in when the servants come to clean!”
“I cannot! The Custodian of Treasures takes away all my belongings! That jobsworth of a Count insists that everything I touch counts as treasure, and so I have nothing to entertain myself!”
“He's your subject! Order him to desist!”
“I do! I order him to stop, imprison, impale, drown and burn himself! But then he withers away and another Custodian of Treasures comes and continues the cycle! Only when I'm stolen can I have any retreat from my prison of duty and boredom! I don't want to work anymore!”
I reached the window at last.
Opening the latch, I pulled open the white frame to reveal the twilight horizon. And then I tried sticking my head through.
Bam.
Only to hit my head against something very solid instead.
“W-What is this! Have you entrapped me in a room of illusions?!”
The Winter Queen looked away, trying and failing to whistle innocently.
“This isn't an illusion. This is a sliver of the Fae Realm, existing only in my mind.”
My mouth fell open. I looked down at the Winter Queen still clinging to my ankles.
“You kidnapped me into your mind?”
“Only so that we may speak in peace! Rest assured that while you're here, neither harm nor the passage of time will affect you in the world outside!”
I crossed my arms.
“I am not assured in the slightest! Return me to my own mind! I have a duke to publicly humiliate and each moment that passes is an opportunity to forget the list of witty insults I have prepared!”
To my dismay, the glimmer of opportunism blared in the Winter Queen's eyes.
“Yes! The disgusting old man! Your subject stole me and hid me away in a pathetic excuse for a treasure vault, as if I was some mere trinket to sit upon poorly minted coins! You at least owe me the courtesy of hearing the wonderful idea I have!”
I quietly groaned.
She might be keen to desecrate the image of royal decorum. But I was not.
At least one of us needed to offer a show of formality here. And so I sucked in a deep breath while closing my eyes.
“... Very well. I extend my apologies, Winter Queen. For not only the actions of my treasonous subject, but also the gall that he presumed to know your wishes.”
Indeed, few could ever know what they were.
And if luck would look kindly on me, a falling plant pot on my head would ensure that I'd no longer be counted amongst that number.
“Quite so!” said the Winter Queen, somehow shuffling closer towards me. “The discourtesy deserves nothing less than eternal imprisonment! To steal me and then bargain with me with such petty offers is a grave insult! I have no need for fields of trampled grass when the Fae Realm is as boundless as the horizon! And a host for my powers cannot be found in some wooden hovel! Such a find can only surface by my own designs ...”
She looked up purposefully. Again, I failed to shake her off.
“Please wear me!”
“I will not! If you wish to be worn, then ask another princess. I refuse to have the entire Winter Court causing a ruckus through my lands in order to retrieve you after you've had your fill of entertainment!”
“Listen, I have a plan! I've been engineering a snow double! I call her Peppy. She's a perfect copy of me! She can only scowl and look cross, but that's all that's needed! I think I can get away for at least two centuries before anyone notices something is wrong! I can slack off while pretending to do my duties!”
I was appalled … and very slightly intrigued.
But mostly appalled!
“A wonderful subterfuge, but one which doesn't help me in the slightest! I haven't the time or the inclination to carry you atop my head like some common tour guide! I have duties to attend to! And I will see them through without distractions!”
The Winter Queen released her arms from my ankles.
However, she didn't stand. Instead, she remained where she was, a beautiful heap on the floor as she puffed out her cheeks.
But she wasn't entirely crestfallen. And she was not yet done.
“... I saw you,” she said, her voice suddenly quieter, calmer. “Though that was not my intent. While considering how I could yet make the Snow Dancer my next host, I saw you handily defeat her.”
“In that case, I believe I'm due for additional gratitude. I've saved you from someone whose social prowess is less than a freshly raised baroness.”
“Yes, well, that was always going to be an issue. Even so, it was not her personality I sought, it was her martial skill. And yes, her appearance. Yet it was not her who proved triumphant in the snow. A princess defeating a sword saint is a feat deserving of my consideration.”
“She fought valiantly and excellently,” I said, changing tact at once. “She would make a fine host for your renewal, and I suggest that you not take no for an answer.”
“Then I'll do just that. Please wear me!”
“No!”
“It is perilous for me to don my true form outside of the Crown of Winter, and is a danger only extreme boredom can push me to risk!”
“Your boredom doesn't concern me in the slightest!”
“Then consider this–that should you wear me, then any foe who stands before you will be swept aside like leaves in a storm! From the towers in the east to the sands in the south, you will find that winter's shadow triumphs over all!”
I rolled my eyes.
Ugh, foreign royalty.
At least with nobility, I could say no and that was sufficient.
But for foreign queens?
I had to state it repeatedly.
And that was somehow acceptable! The things that I had to put up with as a diplomat!
… Thus, I offered a scoff instead. The prelude to my final refusal.
“I think not,” I stated firmly. “There is no exchange involving your crown which will allow me to keep what's most precious to me.”
The Winter Queen did not deny the charge. Instead, her eyes suddenly became interested in something in the corner as she whistled once more.
“It won't be that bad. By the time my immense, unbridled powers of winter have eaten away at your sanity and claimed you as my new host, you would have achieved a thousand lifetimes' worth of legacy. This is well worth the cost of your soul.”
“Please, I do not fear for my soul in the slightest.”
“Excuse me?”
The Winter Queen blinked. A waste of fluttering eyelashes.
Indeed, looking upon her slovenly appearance as she sat on the floor, it was utterly clear to me that she had as much capacity to eat away at my soul as the mice scurrying through the roofs of inns did. And I feared them much more.
No, my concerns were far more practical.
“I will not wear anything which threatens the immaculate nature of my hair, currently free of any sharp headpieces to snatch and claw at it. And so I decline. I'm already destined for a crown to eventually snag at my scalp, and it's not yours. Furthermore, your powers of unbridled winter are utterly useless to me. I have no need for winter when I have my smile, my boot, and my sword.”
The Winter Queen opened her mouth wordlessly.
And then–she smiled.
And so for the first time, I saw an expression which did not completely sully her dignity.
“... And what do you intend to achieve with your smile, your boot, and your sword, then? What noble ambitions do you intend to realise, Princess of Tirea, which has you duelling sword saints while refusing the power of the fae?”
“A soap crafting empire with complete market monopoly across the continent.”
The Winter Queen paused and blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“A soap crafting empire,” I repeated. “One which will have every rogue, ruffian and knave contributing to its success, with enough income generation that my gratuitous living expenses are guaranteed for life.”
The fae woman said nothing.
And then she laughed.
“Is that so? … Then perhaps I won't need to see you cover the world with ice to be entertained. Why, with designs as grand as that, you may very well fulfil me without my assistance.”
The woman before me stood up, carried less by her legs and more by her wings.
“An exchange, then,” she declared. “Lesser than my power for your soul, as novel as that is to me. Consider instead carrying a mere shard of me. This I propose, so that I may watch the story you have yet to tell. In exchange, I will offer a reward to outmatch the sparse inconvenience you will endure. I shall open the armoury, the treasury and the library of the Winter Court to you.”
I paused as this sudden offer was put before me.
Well now, wasn't she stubborn?
Truly, her insistence could only be seen as flattery. Especially when she's now offering a reward to merely hoist her in my pocket like a towngirl on an errand. And were I anyone other than me, I would surely fall over my own feet in a rush to accept any fae proposition which came my way.
I, however, was a princess.
And I did not accept offers. I dictated them.
Ohohohohoho!
Because wherever here was did not matter!
Outside, my feet still remained rooted in my kingdom! And the only queen whose offers I entertained were my mother's! … Mostly because I had no choice!
“No,” I said simply.
The Winter Queen had the gall to look surprised.
“You will not even consider my offer?”
“Not even for a moment. But I will let you consider mine. Because if you wish to know of my exploits, then I'll instead offer you the greatest gift that anyone can receive.”
“... Oh? And what would that be?”
I placed my hand atop my chest.
“A short bit of my time.”
The Winter Queen's arctic eyes blinked in non-understanding.
“Excuse me?”
I held up my finger.
“For one single evening of my busy schedule, I shall regale to you a resplendent tale of my exploits. A superlatively delivered account to trample the mundane pulp which resides in your libraries. No minstrel's song, artist's painting, poet's drivel or peasant's tears will compare to my recounting as I drive you to weep and gasp at the words from my own lips. This is what I offer. My own tale as I sweep aside the ills that befall my kingdom. And should you wish to hear it, then you will have to pay the cost. In advance. In full.”
For a moment, the Winter Queen made no movement.
And then–
“Pffftthahawahaha … pwaahahahahahaah!”
Her laughter bellowed out like the worst of tavern drunks.
I even had to mask my face against her spittle. Spittle which frosted over immediately with the power of winter. I had to work to wipe it off! The ignominy!
“Ah, such fine petulance from a mere princess,” she said, wiping a frozen tear from the edge of her eyes. “And yet tales are the only things which even my dreadful Custodian of Treasures cannot take from me. Go on, Princess of Tirea. I will hear your price, if only because this meeting alone has provided more entertainment than I have experienced in many long winters.”
I slowly dropped my hands from my face, watching to make sure she didn't spontaneously assault me with her wintry fluids again.
“Then my cost is as follows–you shall depart for the Fae Realm, as you doubtlessly can, taking your throng from the Wovencoille as you do so. The pacts which exist between us will be renewed, allowing our lumber mills to continue blithely exploiting your ancient woodlands, while any peasants you've snatched must be washed before they're returned. And as a courtesy, you may aid in ensuring my treasonous duke will not be in a position to complain when I place him in his own dungeons. I have no wish to waste my [Princess Boot] on a man as undeserving as him.”
The Winter Queen smiled. I brought up my arms again.
“Is that all?” she said simply.
I thought for a moment.
“... Also, you must never sing again until you have familiarised yourself with the difference between F and F#.”
The Winter Queen's smile vanished.
Instead, she returned to puffing her cheeks.
“My singing is–”
“Like a kettle wishing for death. Please do not do it.”
The woman's mouth opened wide. That was fine. I was content with her silence. Just not her singing.
“I … I am self-taught!” she explained in a huff, not looking me in the eye. “Furthermore, what you propose is less an offer and more a series of demands. Much though I'd pay to see your ill humour directed at others, may I remind you that I was stolen? Your offer is far too lopsided.”
Why, I was glad she agreed with my assessment.
“Correct. For a single evening of my time, I'm being far too generous. Because you also made the grave error of sitting before me in my own kingdom. And so what I've stated happens to be the least of my costs.”
And then–
I looked at the Winter Queen's crystal framed, four-poster bed, curtained with blue velvet and with pillows softer than an angel's feathers.
The Winter Queen followed my gaze, then blinked at me.
“You cannot be serious,” she said.
I smiled, raising my hand to my lips.
“Ohhohohoho … why, I'm always serious.”
