One: The Ice Queen Cometh
Virginia Lewis smiled to herself, wrapping her arms tighter around the warm, solid form of Wolf as they lay entwined together in her bed, both drifting in peaceful slumber. The last eight months with him had been sheer bliss. No more running, no more stress, no more desperation, no more fear. Much had been lost, but so much more had been gained, and now all she could do was remain here, content and happy, two things she had only dreamed she could be. It was as if she were a different person now, and so she was. But at the core she remained the same...a girl with a thirst for adventure and travel, but who no longer had any difficulty trusting.
Smiling, she watched Wolf as he scratched absently at his temple in his sleep, the mannerism a habit she found so endearing. It was because of him that her life had been turned upside down, from the moment she first met him in her grandmother's apartment until now. And although much had happened she wished had not, she would not change a single thing about it. Her mother's death still caused an empty, hollow throb in her heart, but the passage of time was dulling it, and she knew surviving the tragedy would make her stronger.
Resting a hand upon her swollen stomach, she caressed it softly. It was still hard to believe she and Wolf had created a new life, but now it seemed as if it had always been meant to be, and that Wolf had always been with her. The initial shock had faded long ago into pleasure and devotion, and in the eight months since her return to New York, she had spent almost every waking moment with him, reveling in this closeness and love they shared. Bereft of it so long, she practically glutted herself on it now, gulping it with a greediness that rivaled Wolf's propensity for meat. But it was a good feeling, finding what had been lost, filling the void, and it bonded them together more fully with every day.
Virginia touched her lips gently to his throat, then moved up his neck, planting kisses in a soft line upwards onto his cheek. Wolf opened his eyes halfway and grinned lazily up at her. "Why hello there...there seems to be a dreamy, creamy girl in my bed."
She smirked and ran her fingers playfully up his chest, playing with the hair. "And there seems to be a handsome, hairy wolfman in my bed...whatever shall I do with him?" She winked.
"I can think of a few things," Wolf said slyly. He kissed her long and tenderly.
Rubbing her hands down the soft silvery-gray fur along his backbone, Virginia rested her head on his chest. "So can I..."
For the next several minutes neither could speak, as they worked to apply their lips to every available inch of flesh. At last Virginia sighed and frowned. "I'm really not looking forward to going back to the Fourth Kingdom today," she commented. "I'm sure Wendell's going to pester us again about getting married."
"I know, love," Wolf murmured in her ear. "But you can't blame him...he has to deal with all those petty rulers and courtiers who think it's scandalous to have an unwed pregnant stepsister." He rolled his eyes. "He's being pushed to the wall...but he's only looking out for you, you know."
Virginia glowered, but said nothing for a long time. Finally she kissed his chest gently and exhaled slowly. "Yeah...I know. But...I want this to be my decision, not his, not theirs." She nerved herself, then continued, "And I will marry you someday, Wolf...I'm sure of it. But only when I'm ready."
Wolf smiled and tweaked her nose. "I know you will...and I respect you for it."
Virginia grabbed a pillow and slammed it into Wolf's face, laughing. "Why you arrogant..."
Her words were lost in a muffled shriek as Wolf returned the blow with another pillow. In moments both of them were in a full-fledged pillow fight, the soft down pillows whamming indiscriminately into any exposed body part. One blow struck Virginia on her pert derriere, and she stiffened in mock outrage.
Whirling, she bashed Wolf's crotch with her pillow, and he doubled over, face twisted in feigned agony. Giggling, Virginia lifted her pillow and brought it down on Wolf's head, but he abruptly snaked his hands under her arms and proceeded to tickle her ribs. Exploding into laughter, she collapsed on the bed, wriggling and gasping weakly. "No fair! You cheated..."
His eyes brimmed over with mischief. "Why of course...wolves are unscrupulous, you know..." Enfolding her in his arms, he gnashed his teeth and let out a soft growl. "Now let me punish you..."
She flushed slightly, then wrapped her arms around him. "Oh yes...punish me..."
Another long silence ensued, until Virginia broke the last fervent kiss and panted, "Oooo...what a terrible ordeal...can I stand another session of torture like that?"
Wolf grinned. "Only one way to find out..."
He was about to resume his attentive touches when a diffident knock came at the bedroom door. "Pardon me, Miss Lewis...I don't want to disturb you, but I simply must know something..."
Virginia snarled in a very unladylike manner. That was Mrs. Murray, again. Damn that magic bean! The obsequiousness it compelled had definitely lost its charm long ago, and it intruded at the most inopportune moments...
Rolling over, she covered her head with the pillow and willed the woman to go away, but to no avail. Without waiting for a reply, Murray's gorgeous wife opened the door and entered. Seemingly oblivious to Virginia and Wolf's unclothed state, wrapped in the sheets, she peered around hopefully, an expression Virginia detested greatly by now.
"Ah there you are, Miss Lewis! I was wondering if you had any idea when your father would be returning...his last visit was so brief, Bob and I were barely able to truly show him our appreciation for everything he's done for us, and what a wonderful man he really is..."
Linda babbled on for some time about Tony's greatness, until Virginia began to feel nauseous and had to put a stop to it. Tucking the sheet around her chest, she sat up and said rather loudly, "No, Linda, I don't know when he'll be coming back. But my fiancé and I will be going to visit him today. I can ask him then, and I'll be sure to tell him how much you want to see him again."
The tall blonde's face positively lit up with her joy, and she smiled broadly as she wrung her hands in glee. "Oh that's simply wonderful news! I'll be sure to tell Bob and the rest of the family." Her lips pursed as if in anticipation of the ass they longed to kiss, and Virginia could barely restrain her laughter.
Apparently overcome by this prospect, Linda nearly floated out of the room, calling back only once to note Justine would be waiting in the kitchen to fix them breakfast. As soon as the door closed, Virginia hurled the pillow at it and collapsed, exploding into laughter.
"Ooo how I hate that woman...but seeing her like that makes it all worth it!"
Wolf shook his head, chuckling, and kissed her cheek. "Huff-puff, I love it when you're enjoying yourself..."
Virginia ran her hands once more down his chest and then playfully pushed him off. "If we keep this up we'll never be ready in time to meet Wendell. And however much I may not wish to live through another one of his lectures, he is my stepbrother and I promised him we'd be there."
As she crawled across the mattress and leaned down to pick up her nightgown, Wolf gave her a small shove, sending her tumbling out of the bed. "Doesn't mean we can't have a little playtime before we go!"
Laughing anew, she scrambled to her feet and yanked on the sheet, spilling Wolf rather ignominiously on his backside, his tail swishing in annoyance. Before he could pursue her, Virginia dragged the sheet away with her, dashing to the door and disappearing into the bathroom. As the door closed she heard Wolf exclaim, "Ah, the thrill of the hunt! You always know what I love, Virginia!"
She leaned against the door and smiled in satisfaction. Could life get any better than this?
Howling winds drove knife-like blades of ice in a whirling frenzy all about the turrets, battlements, and parapets of the Ice Palace's frigid walls, marring the smooth, almost glassy surface of the structure with scratches and cracks. Blinding snow swirled from the heavens, blanketing the earth, making it impossible to see farther than a few feet from the frozen moat.
Across the vast wastes of the Eighth Kingdom, all features of the landscape were scoured clean by the endless snowstorm, pack ice and snowdrifts hundreds of feet high creating a repetitive vista of eternal winter, enshrouding every inch of ground as far as the eye could see, and far beyond that extent as well. It appeared as if the world had become ice, as if it were locked in another Ice Age.
And that was exactly the way the Ice Queen desired it to be.
She stood at the casement of an arched embrasure in the highest tower of her palace, a still, silent, slim figure blending into the maelstrom of snow and ice that assaulted the window before her. Pure white ermine wrapped her slender shoulders; pure white silk clothed her body; pure white hair cascaded down from her head in utterly straight locks, to knee level or below. Her finely muscled limbs and torso bore the pale, bluish-white blush of fine marble, delicately wrought, like the finest ice sculpture ever created for a banquet. Her lips were the dark violet-blue of frostbite, her face the ghastly white of the grave, although life suffused her high-boned cheeks. An aquiline nose, haughty brows, taut skin, tiny ears—all were etched by the same ice sculptor's tools. Her eyes were like chips of ice, such a pale blue as to freeze whatever she regarded, but yet they were a paradox, for they burned with the fiercest of fires within.
Yet ice, too, burns when it is freezingly cold, formed at the lowest realms of temperature...as was her heart.
Twisting her lips into the semblance of a smile, a motion that seemed somehow physically impossible, the Ice Queen turned from her rapt contemplation of the storm and crossed to the pale blue mirror hanging from the wall. It resembled a frozen lake tilted vertically, and icicles even encrusted its frame. Her reflection pleased her, as it always did. But while nothing lacked on the outside, she was well aware something was missing on the inside.
Satisfaction.
She sighed, a sound like crunching snow. For years she had languished here, alone, without power beyond her own borders, without the freedom to expand, to achieve her greatest desires. Oh, she had her amusements, the fishermen of the villages whom she toyed with, enchanted with her beauty, before slipping them silently into the grave with the gentleness of a blanket of snow, until they entered her realm and became part of her demesnes for good. But that was not enough, not nearly enough. She needed more.
And now at last, she had the means and the moment to give it to her.
It had taken years of patience and diligence, searching out all those who could possibly defeat her, and rendering them lifeless or otherwise impotent to intervene. She was still uncertain if she had found the last of her enemies, but if her surmises were correct, even if he lived he would be no threat to her. And she could spare no more time.
The aborted takeover of the Nine Kingdoms by Wendell's stepmother, the Evil Queen, had shown her two things: the danger of waiting too long to seize power, lest another supplant her; and that the time was ripe to strike, when the rulers were complacent, relaxed in the false sense of security the Queen's death had granted them.
"Now," she whispered aloud, her voice soft as her breath fogged before her. "Now is the time. We shall see how well the Kingdoms fare against me. Poison is far too crude for me...I shall use the cold...the inevitable death...the shroud of the burial mound. By all rights all should belong to me in any case, all come to me when they die. I shall only hasten the process."
Taking one last glance out the window, she turned and strode gracefully toward the door of her chamber, wrapping her ermine cloak tighter about her frame—not to ward off the chill, but to enfold it closer to her. She chuckled, the sound brittle, like shattering ice.
"It is time for the Ice Queen to extend the hand of cordial relations. A long overdue state visit to the Fourth Kingdom is needed." She tapped one long finger on her chin thoughtfully. "I wonder how his Royal Highness King Wendell will receive me...will he be like all other men, ensnared by my beauty? Or will he resist, and be suspicious? No matter...in the end the result will be the same..."
The Ice Queen extended one tapering arm and twitched her hand. A long, narrow rod slid from a concealed pocket in her sleeve, fashioned from what appeared to be ice yet was in truth much much stronger. She lifted it slowly, then touched one fingertip to the skewer-sharp tip, where a many-rayed star perched. A soft hiss escaped, and a sheen of ice puffed out to freeze the air around it.
"Once he is presented with my gift, he will be...enchanted by my charms, and frozen speechless." She smirked at her own joke, then passed soundlessly from the chamber, descending to prepare her coach.
King Wendell Winston Walter White sat in state upon his ornate throne, within the magnificence of his marbled throne room...and he was bored beyond belief.
He suppressed a yawn. Kingship was not at all what he had expected it to be. Oh, he did truly enjoy serving the people, caring for their welfare, and making sure peace and justice existed throughout his lands. But he had not counted on the quotidian minutiae to be so frightfully dull. Endless petitioners, with their petty problems that really could be solved by plain common sense on their own time, rather than wasting his. Endless documents, decrees, laws, and pardons that could be left to his advisors and lower functionaries to seal under his signature, most of which were not momentous enough or had enough far-reaching consequences as to require his personal attention. Endless Council meetings where the Lord Chamberlain and his other advisors droned on about nothing, successfully sending him into the realms of sleep.
And the one thing he had once enjoyed, the fussing and pampering over his wardrobe and etiquette provided by Lord Rupert, no longer held the charm it once did. Long days of heavy traveling in the form of a golden retriever, and seeing how the other side lived, tended to change one's perspective.
He smiled to himself regretfully. Giles had been right, spending time among the people had made him a better king. As Snow White had put it, being a dog had been good for him.
The Little Lamb Villager currently before the throne—most likely one of the ubiquitous Peeps—took his smile as a sign of approval of his petition and nodded firmly. "Thank you for your time, Your Majesty!" He turned and hurried from the chamber. Wendell debated whether to call him back and find out precisely what he had just agreed to, then decided to let it slide. Surely one of his advisors would catch the details as the man left.
Several more petitioners presented their cases before Wendell was able to call a short and much needed break. As soon as the line of supplicants retreated sufficiently, the king heaved a sigh of relief and turned to the man seated beside his throne, at a slightly lower level. "Well, Anthony, now you know what my life consists of these days."
Tony Lewis snapped awake, flinched slightly, and glanced around to see if anyone had noticed he'd been napping. He carefully smoothed the front of his suitcoat and offered Wendell a self-deprecating grin. "Ah, Your Majesty...I wouldn't be you for all the world right now. No offense meant, of course."
"None taken." Wendell eyed him knowingly but made no comment. "What, you mean to say even the offer of young beauties hanging on your every word does not tempt you?" He chuckled as he reminded Tony of his initial offer for a job at the banquet following the defeat of his stepmother, and looked pointedly toward the plate-glass windows lining the throne room, where lines of courtiers watched breathlessly, many fair maidens and ladies among them.
The New Yorker followed his gaze and smiled appreciatively, but shook his head imperceptibly. "It's not that I'd mind the work, Your Majesty, I've learned the value of determination and hard labor. I just don't see the point of all this posturing and false praise. You're not really getting anything done that one of your advisors couldn't do."
Wendell smiled broadly. "I couldn't agree more, Anthony. But tell that to Lord Rupert."
Tony seemed to envision the foppish courtier and winced. "No thanks, Your Majesty."
The king chuckled, and intended to continue the conversation, asking Tony what he would do to alleviate the situation—his former manservant had proved quite sly and clever in the political atmosphere of the Fourth Kingdom. But before Wendell could do so, a vast stir occurred in the watching crowd, and voices were raised in a deep hum of excited conversation. Wendell frowned and raised up on his throne, trying to see what all the ruckus was about, but all he could tell was that everyone was turned toward the entrance. Someone had arrived who had shocked the entire court.
"Anthony...can you see who it is they're gossiping about?" The king gave up all pretense of protocol and rose to his feet, even going so far as to half-climb upon his throne to see better.
"Um...no, I...wait, there's someone coming..." Tony paused, and went completely still. When he spoke next, it was in a hushed whisper, and his face betrayed intense awe. "It's a woman..."
Wendell wondered what woman could possibly have such an effect on the jaded Tony, and then he caught sight of her too, just passing through the towering panels of gold into the throne room—and his breath fled as well.
Every nerve tingled, every inch of his flesh tensed, as he beheld a vision of beauty and elegance, of loveliness and grace, intermixed somehow with a vague sense of unease...foreboding, distrust, even a touch of horror that chilled him to the bone. But these negative emotions were driven into the background. The woman approached, wrapped in silvery-white fur and bone-white silk, a massive train dragging behind her along the crimson carpeting. On either side of her, the crowd parted like waves upon the sea, some even stumbling in their haste to avoid touching her. She was flanked on either side by two horrendous figures, monstrous beasts as ugly and menacing as Trolls but lacking the awful stench, for they were formed fully from carved, living ice.
Wendell tugged nervously on the collar of his crisp, white, royal uniform. It was impossible...but there was no denying who she was. She wore a crown of bluish icicles, and those ice demons clinched it. This was the Ice Queen, ruler of the Eighth Kingdom.
But she had never left her frozen haunts, not in a hundred years...she had remained in her palace, hidden from the world, by all accounts plotting in solitude her conquest of the Kingdoms.
What could she possibly want here?
The Ice Queen glided to a stop before the dais on which his throne was raised. Slowly Wendell returned to the floor, feeling incredibly embarrassed, and cleared his throat. "Y-Your Majesty."
"Ahhhh Wendy, how good it is to finally meet you," she responded at once in a voice equal parts warm humor and cold arrogance. "I've heard so much about you. Your exploits against your stepmother were most impressive. News of them even reached my distant kingdom. I am so sorry I could not attend your coronation...although in retrospect that is a good thing, as I fear I would not have appreciated that dash of Troll dust all your guests received."
Wendell was taken aback on several levels—her casual familiarity, her apparent commiseration over his plight, her approval of his success, even her flash of humor. It was not at all what everyone, from his grandmother on down to his present advisors, had told him to expect from the Ice Queen. What was this? Could her icy heart have finally thawed? "I...I...I thank you, Your Majesty. I too wish you could have attended. But I was under the impression you did not involve yourself in the affairs of the other Kingdoms...although I offered you an invitation out of courtesy in any case. Was I mistaken?"
He could not tear his eyes from the seductive curves of her legs and hips, and the soft, downy mounds of her breasts, like two gentle snowdrifts shifting in a winter wind. He had been warned that she would freeze him in his tracks if ever they met...but he'd had no idea of the manner in which her nature would...harden him...
"You were not mistaken, Your Majesty." The Ice Queen smiled coldly, but there was still the undertones of the coquette in her reply. "I simply made a change in policy. I thought it best, after that dreadful Queen's takeover plot and the near disaster to all the Kingdoms, to bury the ice pick, so to speak. We should not be quarreling amongst ourselves, we should be working together, for the good of our peoples."
The king swallowed hard. He managed to tear his eyes away and flicked them to Tony, who was similarly stupefied, then to his advisors and courtiers. The Lord Chamberlain, his newly-appointed Chancellor, the Mayor of Hamelin—all of them were just as stunned and confused as he. Several looked frightened or worried, but only one seemed ready to denounce the Ice Queen, or to flee—Lord Rupert, who stood near one of the open side doors.
"I...see. That is most refreshing, Your Majesty. So...did you have something specific in mind to formalize relations between our kingdoms?" Wendell tried to hide his growing discomfort and infatuation behind a veneer of cordiality.
The Ice Queen seemed to consider for a long moment. "I don't see why not. I did in fact come here with the intention of...discussing the nature of our relationship." Something about the way she said the word "discussing" did not bode well. "But first...I wanted to offer you a gift."
"A gift?" Wendell blinked. This was even more unexpected. Why would she give him a gift...and what could she offer him? "That...sounds most welcome."
With a flourish the Ice Queen extended a pale, ringed hand and smiled. "Why thank you, Wendell. But before I can give you this gift, you must accept it freely...and also offer another in return."
Wendell's entire body went rigid. His entire being screamed at him not to accept. Yet he could find no definitive reason why he felt this way. It was as if some sixth sense warned him against it. His heart thudded in his chest the way it had that day in the Snow White Memorial Prison when he had been confronted by the Queen. He glanced aside at Tony. The man was fairly frantic with need, and his entire countenance shouted for him to agree. His mouth formed the words "Say yes!" Beyond him, his advisors neither agreed nor disagreed, although all faces bore frowns or grim expressions. Still, it was clear to him they left the final decision in his hands, exactly where it should be.
Except, of course, he had no idea what to do or say.
Shaking visibly, the king clasped his hands behind his back, his knuckles cracking under the strain as he wrung his soft silk gloves. He did not want to say it, but protocol and diplomacy, and the strange sensations the Ice Queen provoked in him, all insisted he say it.
"Very well. I accept your gift. And what is it you wish me to give you?" He began running through a list of possible choices in his mind...
The Ice Queen smiled again, quite broad and very malicious this time. A thin tapering wand of ice slid from her sleeve into her hand, and she extended it to point the star-crowned tip at him. "Why...your Kingdom, of course!"
A blast of ice whistled through the air toward him, bursting from the wand...
Wendell threw up his hands in self-defense, but it was far too ineffectual and far too delayed. Even as he stumbled down the steps from the throne to wrench her wand away, he found his limbs freezing, his chest stiffening, his blood congealing, his breath rasping between his suddenly numb lips. And then his eyesight became clouded, as the bitingly cold frost that covered his body thickened, formed icicles, and grew to form a massive block of ice, perfectly encasing his form in mid-step.
Entombed in a living death, the king could only move his terrified eyes as the Ice Queen cackled like a banshee and pointed again and again with her enchanted wand, striking Tony, the Lord Chamberlain, and every other courtier in the room. Only Lord Rupert escaped, dodging out the door and tumbling facefirst in the soil of the central garden before scrambling to his feet and dashing from view, headed toward the western wing of the palace.
In moments the entire cadre of his advisors, including Tony, had joined Wendell in his icy prison. Only the watching petitioners remained. Slowly the Ice Queen turned to face the crowd, a bitter smile on her blue-violet lips. "Anyone who wishes to share in their fate, step forward at this time. The rest of you have a choice: serve me, or leave this place...now."
No one stirred for a long time, too afraid to move lest they be added to her collection. Then, one by one, the entire crowd departed the room in utter silence, only five remaining to enter her service.
When the room was empty, the Ice Queen gestured to her slaves, and the ice demons joined her new human servants to guard every entrance to the room. Any found attempting to enter would be taken before her and summarily frozen as well. With a confident, arrogant stride the snow witch circled Wendell's frozen form and mounted the dais. She sat upon his throne with deliberate slowness and brandished her wand, rolling it idly between her icy fingers, twirling it as she eyed the room.
"Thank you, Wendell. I find your gift most pleasing. You shall be most rewarded when this game is done. When I sit upon the thrones of every Kingdom...and the lands have joined my icy empire, fallen under the sway of my spell. Then all shall be as it was meant to be from the beginning of days, and Happy Ever After shall be but a dream...unless, of course, you come to see, as I do, how truly happy the cold shroud of death can render you."
Wendell could not move, could not speak, could not breathe, suspended alive by the power of her wicked ensorcellment. But he could still see Tony several feet away, frozen in a half-crouch as he rose from his chair. The man's eyes were equally terrified and haunted and desperate.
But there was nothing either of them could do. The Ice Queen's conquest of the Nine Kingdoms had begun, and no one remained free to stop it, except perhaps Lord Rupert. And Wendell would not trust the fate of a Troll to his supercilious hands.
And one other remained, one who kept hope alive in the king's heart. Virginia. She had been due to meet with him this very day. She could yet arrive through the magic mirror, if it could be activated, and save Wendell from his own folly.
She had saved the Nine Kingdoms once. She could do so again. She had to...
(A/N: The names I've given the Murrays (Bob and Linda) as well as the other family member mentioned in passing, Justine, are from Sohna's wonderful fic "My Brother's Keeper". At the time I was writing this chapter, I was not feeling very creative, and considering most of my fic takes place in the Kingdoms and I was in a hurry to get to the 'good stuff', I didn't feel it worth my while to spend much time with the Murrays, even down to giving them unique names. Besides, Bob and Linda somehow seem far too fitting, and I very much enjoyed Sohna's hilarious antics with the Murrays at the start of her fic and wanted to reference them. So...I borrowed them. Mea culpa, mea culpa! But this is the only direct shout out to any other fic, so you can read the rest of my story with a clear conscience. ;) R/R!)