Angel in the Snow, Demon in the Shadows 5: The Cursed Mirror

(A/N: Sequel to Strike for Love and Strike for Fear. Sorry for the delay in this. Lots of things happening, so not a lot of time to post stuff. For that I apologize. I haven't gotten as far in this story as I would like to have gotten, but I wanted to start posting anyway in hopes posting it will begin to motivate me. Anyway, this story begins to take on a much darker take than previous ones. Remember when I said it won't be overly tragic? Yeah, about that... Well, you'll just have to see. Anyway, enjoy. I'm hesitant about promising daily updates, at least as I get closer to reaching what I've written up to, but it's most likely the way things will go, and with luck I'll be writing as I'm posting, so no need to worry yet.)

Which Describes a Looking-Glass and the Broken Fragments

You must attend to the commencement of this story, for when we get to the end we shall know more than we do now about a very wicked hobgoblin; he was one of the very worst, for he was a real demon.

Frozen

"And then the troll ate up all the mean old Billy Goats Gruff and was full for months after. The end," Pabbie said.

"I like that story, papa. I'm glad the troll got fed and got rid of those mean old Billy Goats," Little Bulda said from her tiny moss bed.

"I'm glad you liked it, darling," Pabbie said, smiling gently at his daughter. "Tomorrow I'll tell you the story of the three little trolls and the fat, juicy, wolf."

"Mmm," Bulda said, licking her lips.

"Now come, dearest. Give daddy a hug," Pabbie said. Bulda grinned, hugging her father tight.

"Gran' Pabbie! Your Majesty!" a frantic voice suddenly called.

Pabbie frowned worriedly and quickly turned, pulling away from a confused Bulda. "What's happened?" he demanded as one of his people rolled in.

"It's back! Oh gracious, he's back!" the troll fearfully said, near tears. "He'll take them again! We'll lose all the children we have left. Sir, he's… He's after the mirror…"

Pabbie's eyes widened. "No…" he breathed.

"Papa?" Bulda asked.

He turned swiftly to his girl, looking fearful. "Bulda, go hide. Now!" Pabbie ordered.

"But…" Bulda began.

"Now!" Pabbie yelled. He turned to the other. "Go out and tell the people to hide the little ones and adolescents. Quickly! As many as they can in however much time we have left." The other immediately rolled out to obey. Fearful, Bulda scrambled into a hiding hole. Gran Pabbie followed and kissed her head. "Stay safe. Do not come out no matter what!"

"Who's coming? What does he want?!" Bulda exclaimed.

"He… he is your half-brother… And he comes to reclaim the Mirror," Gran' Pabbie stated.

Frozen

One day, when he was in a merry mood, he made a looking-glass which had the power of making everything good or beautiful that was reflected in it almost shrink to nothing, while everything that was worthless and bad looked increased in size and worse than ever. The most lovely landscape appeared like boiled spinach, and the people became hideous, and looked as if they stood on their heads and had no bodies. Their countenances were so distorted that no one could recognize them, and even one freckle on the face appeared to spread over the whole of the nose and mouth. The demon said this was very amusing. When a good or pious thought passed through the mind of anyone, it was misrepresented in the glass, and then how the demon laughed at his cunning invention.

All who went to the demon's school—for he kept a school—talked everywhere of the wonders they had seen, and declared that people could now for the first time, see what the world and mankind were really like. They carried the glass about everywhere, till at last there was not a land nor a people who had not been looked at through this distorted mirror. They wanted even to fly with it up to heaven to see the angels…

Frozen

"I-I have a-a brother?" Bulda asked, eyes bugging wide.

"In title and blood only," he darkly replied. "He will not see you as sister, for he cannot love or think in such terms, and for your own sake, do not think of him as brother," Pabbie answered. "I will tell you all in time, my dear; of how he came to be. For now, hide." With that he rolled out, and little Bulda was left alone and scared.

Gran' Pabbie walked out into the clearing, expression grave and serious and set. He looked upwards solemnly. Standing on a ledge, high above, stood a winged creature that looked neither man nor sprite nor troll. A hybrid. A hybrid of a most hideous and terrifying appearance. "You will not have it!" Gran' Pabbie shouted up to him after a long moment's silence between them.

"It is mine!" the hobgoblin shouted back. "You will not keep it from me, 'father'!"

"With it you warped and twisted innocent little ones and corrupted their hearts and minds beyond recovery. You took our children from us and made them your minions and army!" Pabbie replied angrily.

"And not one regrets it," the hobgoblin answered, smirking.

"Because they cannot! They don't even know what they once were and hardly know what they have become!" Pabbie yelled. "You will never have the mirror, Carabis!"

"Yes. I will," Carabis replied.

Immediately the hybrid flew into the air on the wings of a sprite, but with the roar of a troll. He shot down at a breakneck pace and threw Pabbie to the ground before sending a magical blast coursing through him. Pabbie screamed in pain. Immediately other trolls raced to help, but before they could reach the two, the hybrid let out a bellow. Bellows and screeches echoed back as suddenly, into the valley, poured masses of dark and twisted sprites and trolls! Some of which had once been the children of those racing to help the good king.

Gran' Pabbie knew he was on his own when he heard his people frantically pleading with and trying to call back their offspring to them. Trying to make them remember. It was all in vain, but it kept backup from reaching the good troll king, and drove off those protecting the cave that held the mirror. How could they kill their own children? No matter how corrupted the hobgoblin's school had made them, they still loved them. Frantically Pabbie battled against his child. No. Not his child. This thing had stopped being his child a long, long time ago. Perhaps it had never been. He had conceived this creature with a sprite foolishly, and that was all he had done… And yet he still could not separate his child, his Carabis, from the monster…

Suddenly there was the sound of shrieking. Pabbie turned with a gasp. Flying from the cavern shot a group of sprites, cackling and carrying the mirror! "No!" Pabbie exclaimed. He cried out in pain as Carabis took the opportunity to strike, sending Gran' Pabbie flying. He landed hard on the ground and lay still with a pained groan.

"You have lost, Gran' Pabbie! Stop fighting and die! You failed your people. It is all you will ever do," the evil troll king darkly stated. He raised his hand, preparing a fatal spell.

"Papa!" a voice screamed. The evil troll screeched in pain as a powerful attack struck him. He staggered and looked over in shock, spotting a little troll girl.

"Bulda, stay back!" Pabbie frantically called.

"A sister… I have a sister, hmm? Intriguing," the evil troll said. "Hello, little one. My name is Carabis."

"Stay away from father!" Bulda shouted at him.

"I will, Bulda. If you will come with me," the wicked sprite said.

"Don't listen to him, Bulda!" Gran' Pabbie shouted. Bulda looked fearful, shifting uncertainly.

"Come with me, daddy lives. Stay, daddy dies. You can't save him, infant," the wicked sprite said.

Bulda's eyes narrowed. "Watch me!" she shouted back, immediately attacking. He cried out in pain, falling back in shock. The young troll was strong, he would give her that. And had a bit of his attitude. Which would serve him well… But she had enough of their father in them that he could see she would not be easily moulded.

Carabis struck her with a painful magical blast, knocking her down. She cried out in pain. "Bulda!" Gran' Pabbie shouted desperately. Carabis dove, intending to take her up and kidnap her from her people. At his mercy, she would become one of his army.

"Leave her alone!" a voice shouted. Carabis cried out in surprise as he was knocked suddenly to the ground. He looked over. Another troll child.

"Cliff!" Bulda exclaimed. Cliff quickly rolled to her side, obviously scared but prepared to help Bulda defend Gran' Pabbie if he needed to.

Carabis growled low in his throat, both in anger and annoyance. He cursed his luck. Eyeing Bulda coldly, he debated whether or not to try and kidnap her again. Finally he decided against it. He had no time to waste on her anymore. Not at the moment. Perhaps one day he would be back for her. For now, he couldn't be bothered. Besides… They had a goal. Laughing cruelly, he took off into the sky. Up, up, up the sprites flew, the corrupted trolls cheering from below…

Frozen

…But the higher they flew the more slippery the glass became, and they could scarcely hold it, till at last it slipped from their hands, fell to the earth, and was broken into millions of pieces.

In the Valley of the Living Rock

The good trolls watched in horror as the shards toppled from the sky; scattering in the winds, shattering on the ground, gliding far away all over the whole world... The aurora borealis those shards reflected had never looked so horrible and terrifying, and screams could be heard in the distant human populations as the shards stuck so many victims the world over. "Daddy?" Bulda fearfully asked. Gran' Pabbie was silent, drawing her close. "Daddy, what's going to happen?" Bulda asked.

"Terrible, terrible things, my love… So terrible that I fear the world will never be the same again…" Gran' Pabbie answered.

On the Southern Isles

"He is so beautiful, my love," the young king said, beaming down at the newborn that his wife held in her arms. The young queen grinned tiredly up at him as the infant fed, and as her husband combed his fingers through her hair. He bent, kissing her lips lovingly. "You did so well, Anne-Marie."

"Thank you, my darling. I wish it had been a girl, though. We have had two boys already," the Queen answered.

"I'm afraid I cannot promise a girl will ever be conceived, as much as I would like for there to be," he ruefully said. "You well know my family has a tendency to have an overwhelming number of male dominated offspring."

"The sacrifices I make for you, Hans," she teased softly, kissing her husband again.

"Caleb, Jürgen, come! See your new brother!" the king called out. Caleb, two years old, walked towards his parents and climbed onto his mommy's bed. Jürgen, one year old, alternated between toddling and falling over to them.

He reached up for the king. "Up!" he demanded, frowning. The king chuckled, lifting the little one onto his mother's bed. Caleb and Jürgen both crawled tentatively over towards the new baby. Jürgen plopped down and watched it, sucking his thumb.

Caleb reached out, lightly touching the newborn's skin in awe. "It so toft!" he said in amazement.

"His name is Lars," the king gently said to his eldest. "Do you like that name."

"Yeah!" Caleb said.

"No! Other one!" Jürgen insisted.

"You may call him other one if you wish, Jürgen," the queen teased gently. Eventually he would outgrow it, after all.

"Other, other one fo' me," Caleb said.

"Yes, Caleb, he is the other, other one for you," the queen said, giggling gently. The king knelt on the bed and drew his family near, gushing over the newborn and his queen, and doting on his two toddlers.

Frozen

But now the looking-glass caused more unhappiness than ever, for some of the fragments were not so large as a grain of sand, and they flew about the world into every country. When one of these tiny atoms flew into a person's eye, it stuck there unknown to him, and from that moment he saw everything through a distorted medium, or could see only the worst side of what he looked at, for even the smallest fragment retained the same power which had belonged to the whole mirror. Some few persons even got a fragment of the looking-glass in their hearts, and this was very terrible, for their hearts became cold like a lump of ice.

Frozen

The king sat with his queen on a cliff overlooking the ocean. The sunset was breathtaking, the sound of the waves peaceful. The toddlers lay cuddled together on the grass, fast asleep. They lay beneath a tree, and the newborn was sleeping soundly on a soft blanket close to his brothers' sides. He was down for the night. Or at least until his next feeding. The King and Queen whispered sweet nothings gently to one another, nuzzling softly and lovingly. "I am not sure how many children I will be able to bear," the queen mused to her king.

"What does it matter to me if you wished for only one child or none at all? I will delight in anything I have with you, be it children or otherwise," the king answered. "You are no breeding horse, beloved. I did not marry you for the sake of your bearing me heirs. I would have died happily if I had only you for the rest of my days."

She smiled at him. "I love you," she said softly.

"There is nothing I would not do for your sake, so deep is my own love for you," the king answered. "You and the children are all that matter to me in this world. I would give up even my kingdom, even my life and freedom, if it kept you all safe."

"Will you love all future children the same?" she teased with a faux frown.

"I will," the king answered. "All of them. There is no child of mine that would be hated by his, or with luck her, father."

"You are a good man," she said, laying back in the grass and closing her eyes, face turned skyward.

He lay next to her, softly pressing his lips to her own before drawing back. "Not half as good as you deserve," he whispered gently to her.

"I would have no other besides you," she answered, opening her eyes, lightly touching his cheek with her fingertips. "No matter the choices presented to me." He squeezed her hand lightly, smiling. She smiled back then looked at the sky again. A puzzled expression came to her face. "What is that?" she asked.

The king frowned and turned curiously, watching the sky and squinting towards the twinkling object that seemed to be falling from it. It was large. Too large and too close for him to be comfortable with. "Get the children," he said seriously, standing and pulling her to her feet. Worry filled her eyes and she quickly went to her little ones, kneeling next to them but not waking them just yet. "Dammit, it's coming for us! Anne-Marie, run!" the king shouted, suddenly panicked as he turned to her frantically.

The Queen gasped, seizing the newborn and the one-year-old. "Caleb, get up!" she cried out to her third child.

Caleb started awake, looking confused and afraid. "Mommy?" he asked.

"Run!" she ordered.

Caleb was totally lost at this point, but he knew in his gut now wasn't the time to ask questions. He staggered up and followed mama as quickly as he could. The king raced after them. The object in the sky was hurtling nearer and nearer! Striking a branch, it broke into two piece and toppled towards little Caleb. "Caleb!" the king shouted, lunging. He threw himself quickly into the path of the projectiles. Better they impale him than his eldest son.

"Daddy!" Caleb screamed.

The queen gasped, looking back, and her eyes widened in horror as she saw the objects, sharp like small icicles or broken shards, strike her husband's chest and head at a velocity far too high to be harmless. "No!" she shrieked. Jürgen was crying now, confused and awake. So was the newborn. The Queen turned, racing back to the king who lay on the ground, drenched in blood. Caleb was weeping, trying to wake the man up, screaming for him to come back… And he did…

But he was not ever the same again…

He awoke under the doctor's care. The shards, whatever they had been, had struck him in the heart and in the head. By all accounts, he should be dead, but he wasn't. Upon hitting his body, the objects had shattered further, piercing into his skin everywhere they could, entering every crevice and opening they could manage to land in or on.

And the king felt nothing…

It was all he felt ever again for as long as he lived…

Frozen

A few of the pieces were so large that they could be used as window-panes; it would have been a sad thing to look at our friends through them. Other pieces were made into spectacles. This was dreadful for those who wore them, for they could see nothing either rightly or justly.

In Britain, Many Years Later

The Duke of Cumberland wept, clinging to the body of his wife with one arm, and clutching the tiny form of the infant in the other. There was no crying, no heartbeat, no sound of movement, no sign of life. He had lost them both, he knew. He felt the doctors take the unmoving babe from him, torn from its mother's womb far too early. They had had no choice. She had been sick. She had died of her illness. If they hadn't taken the precious cargo she was carrying out, it would have passed with her... But it was gone anyway, wasn't it? He listened to the doctors frantically trying to revive the tiny little body. There was nothing.

"God, please... take my life," the broken man whispered softly. "Let me die."

"He's breathing!" one of the doctors exclaimed suddenly in shock and disbelief. "It's alive! Hurry, coax it farther. Don't let it go."

The Duke sharply looked over, eyes wide and filling with a cautious hope. He didn't dare believe it would be alright. Not until the danger period was passed, however long that was. He looked down at his wife, anguish in his eyes, and kissed her softly on the lips. "You did so well, darling... Do you see it? Do you feel it? Your babe will live. He must. I promise you he will, and he will know the great woman his mother was... Thank you... Oh how I wish you were here... He is so beautiful."

The crying began. The newborn was awake. "My Duke?" a nurse's voice asked from close at hand. The Duke looked up at her. "Here. Your son," she said, handing the teensy little bundle to him. The man looked at it in awe and wonder. He hesitated to touch it, almost afraid that if he did it would break. Soon, though, he delicately took the baby and held it close.

The infant began trying to suckle. The Duke of Cumberland smiled weakly, tears burning his eyes. "You will not get anything from me, little love," he whispered softly to it. "I am sorry... I will love and care for you all of the days of your life, my treasure, I promise. You will be my world. You are." Gently he pressed a kiss to the babe's head.

Some Years After

"Daddy!" the little one cried out, racing into the throne room as his father finished court.

The Duke turned and grinned. "There you are, my boy!" he said, bending down and letting the child race into his arms. He laughed, lifting him nimbly up and tossing him into the air. The boy screamed and laughed in delight. "How was your day today, darling?"

"It was okay," the boy answered.

"Just okay?" the Duke asked.

"You weren't there!" the boy said.

"You are a daddy's boy to be sure, Aaron," the Duke teased with a laugh. "I've spoiled you far too much, I think. Now, what lessons must you always remember above all else?"

The boy thought a moment then smiled. "Kindness, mercy, forgiveness, pity, honesty, empathy, love, fairness, and equality," the child recited.

"What does it mean to be kind?" the Duke asked, holding his son close and smiling at him.

"To not be like the King of the Southern Isles?" the boy asked.

"Aaron," the Duke warned, frowning. "I'm aware I've said some things about that man, many of which I regret. I really must work on that. I will be sure not to say such things again. I see it's doing you no good. Tsk, tsk, I'm being a bad example, it seems."

"No you're not!" the child protested.

The Duke chuckled, smiling at him. "Answer the question in proper now, son," he said.

The boy blushed faintly. "To be kind is to help people and to listen to them and to do things for them without expecting anything in return," he said.

"Good boy. What does it mean to be merciful and forgiving?" the Duke asked.

"To always show even those who have wronged you kindness, and to wish them no ill. Spare those who have hurt you, forgive them their wrongs as much as you can. Never hurt them back because hurting them back just makes them want to hurt you more, but doing good for them makes them sometimes less inclined to hurt you, and one day they may show you the same mercy. Even if they don't, never regret being good to them," Aaron said.

"You are an insightful little fellow, aren't you? I taught you the principal, but none of that. Good lad," the Duke said. "Now what of..."

"My Lord Duke?" the messenger said, coming in.

The Duke looked over with a curious frown and put his son down. He knelt, smiling at the child. "We will continue this later on. Recite to yourself what all the other traits mean to you and to me in the meantime. I will come to you shortly, my darling, and then we'll play a little bit, alright?"

"Okay," the boy replied. Quickly he scrambled off.

Frozen

The Duke turned to the messenger. "What is it?" he questioned.

"A gift has come to you from an unknown sender," the messenger replied. "My lord, perhaps a guard should open it?"

"If it's something dangerous, I will not have anyone else's life put on the line for mine," the Duke replied.

"Sir, your son..." one of the guards began.

"He will have his father a long time yet," the Duke vowed, going to the package. Swiftly he opened it and leapt back quickly. When nothing happened, he approached it and looked inside.

The Duke's eyes widened and he gazed in awe and wonder at the wrapped contents. Two stained glass windows of a curious sort, and a gigantic mirror made of a single piece of broken glass, jagged and formidable but beautiful. It needed no stand, for it stood on its own. Along with it came many smaller mirrors, also cut from one piece of glass. The windows, for their part, were most lovely, and the Duke ordered them inserted into the palace immediately. The mirrors he ordered laid around in a room specifically meant for them; a decorative idea borrowed from the French ruler who had, had a whole hallway of Versailles devoted to mirrors. The large mirror would be the centerpiece. It was this room into which the windows also were inserted. It was into this room that no one was allowed but the Duke of Cumberland…

But as time passed, he grew darker and darker. As time passed, he would enter that room and not leave it for hours on hours, sometimes even days, and only come out when he was on the verge of dying of thirst. Soon all that remained of the person who had once been lauded as fair and just and good and decent, was a shell. It was not long after, that fair and just and decent became cruel and unjust and merciless. But that was far from the whole story…

Frozen

At all this the wicked demon laughed till his sides shook. It tickled him to see the mischief he had done. There were still a number of these little fragments of glass floating about in the air, and now you shall hear what happened with one of them…