WARNING: This one is even more gross than the others. Not graphic, but if you know the old version of "Snow White" you'll know how bad it is when you step back and actually look at it. Vermin are just a little more honest about the squick. Tread carefully.
BTW, anonymous reviews are switched back on now I've managed to get the spammer dealt with and ffnet has put settings in place to limit the number of anon reviews that can be sent per fic in case he comes back.
Once there was a king fox, who was strong and powerful and feared throughout the land, and his queen, who was beautiful and cunning and crueller even than her king, and they lived with their many followers in a mighty fortress on a mountain near the edge of a great wood.
One day in midwinter, the queen went up to her tower room to find a rat stealing her favourite jet necklace from her jewellery box. In a great rage, she picked him up and flung him out of the window, watching as he fell screaming to his death in the snow below. She ran down the stairs and outside to take back her necklace from the deadbeast's paw, and looked at the blood steaming on the snow. She thought it a very beautiful sight, and said to herself "Oh, if I have a cub, I wish it could have fur as red as blood, as white as snow, and as black as jet."
Soon after this, she found she was indeed with cub, and when she gave birth, she had a fine little vixen-cub. And the cub's fur was as red as blood on top, as white as snow on her belly, and as black as jet on her paws and the tip of her tail. Now doesn't that sound so pretty? And because her teeth were also white as snow and sharp as frost, they named her Frostbite.
Now, the queen was very beautiful and very cunning, as I said, and she was terribly vain as well. When she was young, a dying Seer had put all her powers into a magical mirror, made of silver and glass with an ebony frame, which the queen had taken from the corpse's paw for herself. She hung this mirror on the wall of her chamber, and every full moon she asked it;
"Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Who is the finest fox of all?"
And every day the mirror would answer in the dead Seer's voice; "You are."
But the queen grew slowly older and weaker as the seasons passed, and Frostbite grew up. Even when she was but a cub, they could tell she would be tall and strong and beautiful. And on the very day Frostbite turned seven seasons old, the queen went to her mirror and asked it;
"Mirror, mirror on the wall,
Who is the finest fox of all?"
And the mirror answered; "Frostbite."
The queen was livid with rage, and vowed to have her daughter slain. She would have done it immediately, but she did not want to leave any chance that her mate would find that it was she who killed their daughter, so she found the best and strongest of the young soldiers and took him in secret to her chamber.
"Thou shalt slay Frostbite," she told him, "and bring me back her heart."
So the soldier took the cub into the woods, away from any other beast who could hear her screams, and took his knife to slay her. But Frostbite was quick, and when he picked her up she bit off three of his claws and fled. The young soldier was afraid, for his death would be slow if the queen knew he had failed her, so he captured a young badger and tore out her heart for the queen instead. The queen took the heart and howled with glee, and ate it there and then in front of him.
Frostbite ran for many days, deep into the woods, into the dark places where the trees blocked out the sun, until she fell into a tunnel. Down she tumbled, until she landed in front of a little door. It was locked, but she carried a sharp needle in her belt, so she picked the lock with it and sneaked in. Inside she found seven little chairs around a cosy fireplace, and a table with seven places set, and seven little beds. She was hungry, so she devoured as much of the food as her belly could hold, and slept on the rug because the little beds were too small for her.
Soon the seven little moles who lived in the hole came home, and were much afeared to find their food gone and a fox sleeping on their floor. But they saw she was but a little cub, and how very pretty she was, and they vowed to keep her and protect her. And you know how foolish woodlanders are, my dears. She could have been clutching a severed head, and they would have done no more than beg her not to let the blood stain her lovely pelt. When she woke up, she was surprised to see seven little moles standing over her, and would have attacked them, but they calmed her with candied chestnuts and asked her to tell them her story, which she did. They were shocked, and told her to stay with them where she would be safe from the wicked queen.
But of course, they did not know about the magical mirror, and soon enough full moon came round again and the queen went to ask her question again.
"Mirror, mirror on the wall,
Who is the finest fox of all?"
And the mirror answered "Frostbite."
And so the queen knew that the soldier had deceived her. She brought him to her chamber and tore him to pieces, then set about thinking how to dispose of Frostbite.
"Mirror, where is she?"
"In the home of seven moles, beyond the forest."
"Mirror, how shall I slay her?"
"Use thy cunning."
So the queen rubbed ashes in her beautiful fur and dressed like a pedlar, and travelled beyond the forest to the home of the seven moles. She watched and waited as the seven moles left their hole in the morning, and saw Frostbite wave them goodbye. Once the moles were gone, the queen took a basket with all sorts of pretty things in it, hobbled towards the hole, and knocked on a log beside it.
"Who knocks?" called Frostbite.
"An old pedlar vixen, with pretty things to sell," croaked the queen. "Perhaps thou wouldst like some beads, a scarf, or perhaps a dagger?"
Now Frostbite was clever and cunning, as all foxes should be, but you must remember, my dears, she was only a cub. She ran out to see the pretty daggers.
"Why, a dagger's no use without a belt to put the sheath on!" said the queen. "Here, try on this one."
She wrapped a belt around Frostbite's waist, and pulled it so tight that the poor cub could not breathe, and fell down in a faint. The queen was sure she would choke before anybeast came to help her, and travelled back to the castle, laughing as she went. But one of the seven little moles had forgotten his hat, and came back to the hole to get it, only to find poor little Frostbite lying on the floor like a corpse. He undid the belt and let the breath back into her, and when she was sitting up again he told her never to open the door to a stranger again.
Meanwhile, the queen arrived back at the castle, and went to her mirror.
"Mirror, mirror on the wall,
Who is the finest fox of all?"
And the mirror answered "Frostbite."
Once again, the queen was enraged, as she discovered her failure, and vowed again to slay her child. Again, she rubbed ashes in her fur and dressed like a pedlar, and took a basket of pretty things to the moles' home, and knocked on the log.
"Who knocks?"
"Only a poor old pedlar, my dear. Wilt thou buy something?"
"I was told never to leave the hole to talk to strangers, ma'am."
"Then do not leave the hole, but open the door and lean out to see," said the queen. "Wouldst thou like a bracelet, a tail-band, a ring? Here, I have a pretty comb!"
Frostbite opened the door and peered out as the queen held up the comb. She nodded, and allowed the "old pedlar" to entwine it in her fur. But the tips of the comb were poisoned, and the queen drove it into Frostbite's skin and fled, leaving the poor cub writhing on the floor, her life ebbing away.
But, once again, one of the moles came home early, this time to see that Frostbite was well and obeying his orders. He found her on the floor, took the comb from her fur, and gave her an antidote to the poison. When she woke up, he rebuked her for disobeying, and told her to always lock the door and never talk to strangers.
The queen arrived back at the castle and went to her mirror again.
"Mirror, mirror on the wall,
Who is the finest fox of all?"
And the mirror answered "Frostbite."
The queen screamed with rage and would have smashed the mirror if her vanity had permitted its destruction (besides, she could ruin her pretty paws that way). She thought, and thought, and thought some more, and finally came up with a perfect plan. She asked the mirror for a recipe for a most potent sleeping draught, which would make the drinker appear to allbeast's eyes and noses to be dead. She made up this potion, and dipped a sweet blood-red apple in it. She dressed herself up again, this time in the rags and ribbons of a Seer, and went once again to the moles' home.
"Who knocks?"
"A Seer, my dear!" cried the queen in eerie tones. "Come out and I shall tell thy fortune, bless thee with good luck, or curse thine enemies, as thou wishest."
"I was told never to open the door to a stranger, ma'am."
"Why, knowst thou not that 'tis grave misfortune to defy a Seer? I shall not harm thee! Come out, and see what a great treasure I have here!"
Frostbite opened the door, curiously. She had grown prettier every day, and the queen was filled with rage to see her, but she smiled and showed her the beautiful apple.
"One bite of this, and thou wilt never suffer pain or misfortune again," said the queen (thinking, of course, that it was true, as Frostbite would sleep until she died). "Thou mayst take it for free, and welcome, for thou art so beautiful thou art the only one who could possibly deserve it."
Poor little Frostbite was taken in by the queen's pretty words, took the apple, and bit into it. No sooner had her fangs met through the sweet flesh of the fruit than she fell down like one dead. The queen checked her over and found no signs of life, no breathing, no heartbeat. The queen laughed and laughed and ran back to the castle, singing all the way, sure that Frostbite would now be buried or burned alive. And when she asked her mirror who was the finest fox of all, it answered "You are."
When the seven little moles came home, they found Frostbite lying dead. They wept over the sad little dead thing for three days and nights. They could not bear to bury or burn her, for she did not decay and remained as beautiful as ever. So they laid her out on a bed of soft leaves in a clearing, and guarded her day and night as all the birds and beasts of the woodland came by to marvel at the poor little dead fox. "She may be vermin," they said, "but she was so young and fair, 'tis such a shame." Seasons passed this way, with Frostbite's body remaining as fresh as it had ever been. And, magically, she grew older as time passed, until she was a fine healthy maiden, more beautiful than ever before, though never once did she stir from her deathly trance.
One day, a roving Juska tribe found the clearing. Ecstatic at the sight of so many preybeasts in one area, they gleefully slaughtered the lot. As the tribe were starting fires to roast their feast of mole-meat, the chieftain looked upon Frostbite's body. The chieftain of this tribe was a big strong young dog-fox, a great fighter, but had never taken a mate, for he had seen nobeast worthy of him until this moment. But he looked upon Frostbite, so still and cold and fair, and knew that he must take her for his own. He bent down and lifted her up to bring her to his bed, but as he lifted her the piece of bewitched apple in her throat was knocked loose and fell from her mouth, and the spell was broken. She stirred in his paws, and opened her eyes.
The tribesbeasts were overjoyed that their leader now had a mate, and he declared that he and Frostbite would be wedded as soon as possible. During the celebrations, she took him aside to talk.
"My lord, may I make one request before we wed?"
"Anything, my beautiful one."
Frostbite told the chieftain the whole story of her life, and how her mother the queen had tried to slay her, and begged him to help her take vengeance. He agreed with a will, and the tribe set out straight away for the castle. Frostbite could recall all the entrances and secret passages from when she had lived there as a cub, so they could slip in without being seen, and the castle was taken from the inside. The murderous queen was captured, and as punishment for her treatment of her daughter, the chieftain had a pair of iron shoes made and heated white-hot, and the queen was forced to dance in them until she died.
And did Frostbite live happily ever after with her new husband? Well, she did, but not with him, my dears, oh no. As he slept on the night after they were wed, she took his own dagger and slit his throat. Well, why should she let him live? He had slain her friends, even if they were only moles, and would have misused her body as she lay asleep! And she'd had a long time to think while in her magical sleep, my dears, and she'd vowed never to trust anybeast again.
So Frostbite became queen and leader of the Juska tribe into the bargain, and ruled wisely and well, with a little advice now and then from her mother's magical mirror ... although she would never again allow the tribe to eat the flesh of moles.
Yay for childrens' fiction involving attempted infanticide, cannibalism, and necrophilia! Look, it could have been infinitely worse, because I'm a fan of Neil Gaiman's "Snow, Glass, Apples" - Google it and prepare for a sleepless night. I did allow her to age while comatose, since I think even most of Mossflower's vermin would draw the line at glorifying child-molestation in front of their offspring, and as I quote from the website Cracked(DOT)com (insert punctuation as appropriate thanks to ffnet's screwy formatting); "The Grimms explicitly refer to Snow White as being seven years old when the story starts, and while there's no firm indication of how much time has passed, it's no more than a couple of years. So, unless that's an eight-year-old Prince Charming who comes along and rescues Snow, we're backing away from this one before we become the subject of an NBC reality show." See? See? The squick in these is not all down to MY twisted imagination!
Think I might pick a more obscure one for the next installment. Does anyone else know "King Lindorm"? Fairytale striptease scenes for the win.