chatelaine of cair paravel

[charning]

In the wood, near but not too near the Lantern, drives a sledge, drawn by a reindeer under the whip of a Dwarf, and carrying a woman, of sorts. She is taller, and paler, and somehow - grander, more terrible, colder even than the deep winter through which she rides. The furs are decorative; she wears nothing over her ears, which, were she human, would spell frostbite given how long she has been on this ride.

The harness-bells jingle tinnily.

Comments

[charning]

She gestures to the dwarf, and his whip cracks, and the reindeer drags them all into the forest.

"Dear nameless child," says the Queen. "I think perhaps I should like to call you Winter."

[pythbox]

Winter grins brightly at her. There is candy between his teeth.

"Okay."

[charning]

"Do tell me anything else there is to know about my new favorite," she purrs. "For that is what you are."

[pythbox]

"Mmm..."

The answer is less immediately obvious now, but after a few seconds he volunteers, "I hate my dad 'cause he beats me up a lot. I was gonna kill him when I figured out how, but I'd rather just stay here and forget about him."

The jelly beans are half gone by the end of this little speech.

[charning]

"And stay here you shall," pronounces Jadis. "In time perhaps you will forget him completely. What was the obstacle to his death?"

[pythbox]

"...I'm fourteen and he's forty?"

[charning]

"You must never allow that to stop you when someone needs to die," says Jadis. "Many ancient things will fall, when pressed."

[pythbox]

He laughs.

"I like you," he declares, reaching into the jar for another jelly bean.

[charning]

She smiles. "Perhaps you should like to learn a thing or two about putting one's enemies to death, and help me with a few of mine."

[pythbox]

"That," says Winter, popping the jellybean into his mouth and crunching down on it, "sounds fantastic."

[charning]

"Excellent. You shall have the finest weapons, and you shall be my assassin," says the Queen.

[pythbox]

Winter beams.

[charning]

Jadis resumes idly toying with his curls.

After something like half an hour, they arrive at her home, a castle so pointy it looks ready to carve great rents in the sky surrounded by a garden of stone creatures in postures combative or terrified, and she and Winter dismount the sledge and the dwarf takes it and the reindeer to put them away, and she begins issuing orders to other assorted minions of all shapes and sizes except human. She commands quarters prepared for Winter, and a suitable assassin's livery, and arranges lessons for him with the quartermaster, and instructs a specter of some sort to conduct him on a tour of the castle.

[pythbox]

Winter follows the specter cheerfully, jar of jellybeans held protectively against his stomach. There are only a handful or so left.

[charning]

The specter shows off halls of statuary, and the throne room, and where he will be learning to stab and club various sorts of the Queen's enemies to death, and the dining hall where she eats with whoever is favored of an evening, and the servants' quarters, and the chamber where he will be staying "so long as Her Imperial Majesty allows", and a vault of treasure which is quite easy to open and look inside, but of course all of the treasure is surrounded further within the vault, by a wall of magic, which prevents any light-fingered servitors from absconding with it. Winter is not shown the Queen's personal chambers, but there is plenty else to see.

[pythbox]

Winter runs up and touches the magic wall, just to see what happens.

[charning]

He is violently thrown back, clear through the insubstantial specter and against a non-magical wall, and his hand smarts with electricity.

[pythbox]

He giggles. The jar of jellybeans is empty by this time, so he doesn't mind it breaking.

[charning]

"Her Majesty does not like thievery," advises the specter.

[pythbox]

"I can tell," laughs Winter.

[charning]

"Come, you have yet to see the dungeons," the specter says, and it shows Winter the dungeons. They are not well-populated, but there are a few creatures here - a Badger, a Dryad, a unicorn with her horn sawed off - who are locked away in the hopes that they may yet break and disclose information to their captors.

[pythbox]

Winter is impressed by the dungeons! They're very dungeony.

[alicornucopia]

"Son of Adam?" inquires the Badger weakly. "A Son of Adam - here?"

[pythbox]

"Huh?" says Winter.

[alicornucopia]

"A boy, a human boy," says the Unicorn, "and in the Witch's Dungeon."

The Dryad seems too overcome with despair to speak.

"Don't listen to the prisoners," advises the specter loftily.