The Duchy of Aquina's treasury was as scandalous as I imagined.
It was less a treasury room and more a dragon's cavern.
Ornate chests vomited gold and silver crowns, unlocked strongboxes proudly revealed glittering gemstones and breathtaking jewellery, and open armoires boasted suits of armour decorated with gilded crystals and weapons which shimmered with the opulence of the finest pearls.
Everywhere I looked, illegally undeclared taxable income spilled from every orifice as the accumulated wealth of Aquina filled my vision.
Piles of coins lay scattered with little attention to detail or proper bookkeeping, ensuring that no tax inspector would be seeing the light of day for many weeks once this veritable hoard was presented to the Royal Treasury for counting.
And yet it all paled in comparison to the wealth exhibited by the second most beautiful being in this room.
Sitting on her makeshift throne of snow and coins, a woman whose likeness was that of a young elven maiden wore a dress of purest snow as she basked in moonlight streaming from corners where no window to the sky existed. Her dress was unembellished and unadorned, and yet the overwhelming delicateness of its material put the richest velvet to shame.
She was the Winter Queen. And when she moved, her garment didn't simply move with her. It fluttered like a silken curtain. As did her wings.
Hers possessed no colour. It was a shimmering mirror, a waterfall of images and lights reflecting all the treasures around her. Within those butterfly-like wings, I saw all the crowns and treasures of Aquina glimmering back at me, waiting to be retrieved.
And I would.
But like all things, there was an order to things. And I was no Snow Dancer. Etiquette had to be entertained.
Thus, I walked up to the Winter Queen–and then began to sweep snow and coins onto the spot just opposite her.
“Coppelia, help me make a chair.”
“Got it!~”
Before the raised eyebrow of the Winter Queen, my future handmaiden and I wasted no time. Rolling up our sleeves, we piled snow and coins onto the point I designated with professional workmanship.
A few moments later, an extremely unfashionable chair was now raised before the Winter Queen.
It was something which couldn't even be exhibited in a contemporary art museum, the graveyard where all talentless hacks sent their works to die these days. But appearance was secondary.
Height was all that mattered.
I hopped before clutching the edge of the seat. My foot failed to find purchase in the chair's uneven slope as coins rained down. Coppelia skipped up and offered her hand. I accepted, allowing her to pull me atop the freshly made chair.
I carefully turned and sat, crossing one leg over the other as I officially bested my opponent in inches from the ground.
Then, I offered a frown to the fae whose appearance belied the years swirling in her arctic eyes.
“Winter Queen,” I said, now able to converse appropriately. “It's unseemly for me to present myself to a monarch sat on a throne within the lands of my own kingdom.”
She sipped at her teacup. A liquid so clear shimmied that for a moment, I'd believed it to be empty.
“Princess of Tirea. It's also unseemly to kidnap the monarchs of other kingdoms.”
I considered her argument. Then nodded. As did she.
“How is the chair?” she asked, placing her teacup atop her head.
“Extremely comfortable,” I replied, as my derrière burned from the cold. “My future handmaiden's skill in carpentry is as famed as her tact and discretion.”
Coppelia was stood right beside the Winter Queen, leaning in while taking in everything from the fae's tall figure to the mirror wings and the teapot atop her head.
She waved at her reflection in the Winter Queen's wings as her eyes brimmed with curiosity. Then, she breathed a puff of warm air at the mirror sheen, watching as the condensation slowly evaporated.
But not before drawing a smiley face first.
“That's … That's so cool!” she said, her own expression matching the one she'd just drawn. “You have mirrors on your back! That's … well, it's totally useless! Unless you want to accidentally blind someone when the sun catches you! You're literally a walking health hazard! Amazing!”
The Winter Queen glanced at Coppelia.
“My wings do not simply reflect light, clockwork doll. They amplify it. When I soar beneath the mortal sun, every eye to bear witness to my splendour winces in uncontrollable discomfort as colour spots plague their vision for months.”
Already, Coppelia's eyes were lit up with sparkles. She was already affected. The poor thing.
“That's soooooo pointless! I wish I had wings like that!”
“That wish cannot be made reality, even were you created in the land of the duskless dawn. I regret to say that the wings you see are mine alone. They are unique amongst the fae. Even my sisters who–”
“Also, why do you have a teacup on your head?”
The Winter Queen pursed her lips.
Clearly, she wasn't used to being interrupted while speaking. A terrible bout of impoliteness by Coppelia. And wonderfully, immaculately timed.
That's right! Do not allow this queen who wishes to appear stately any opportunity to control the flow of this conversation!
“I wear a teacup because I wish to,” she explained simply. “As Winter Queen, whether I choose to wear a teacup or a cat atop my head is my royal prerogative.”
Coppelia hummed as she peered this way and that as she took in the new headpiece.
“Want me to make you a hat? Because I can make you a hat.”
The Winter Queen paused.
“What kind of hat?”
“How about a beret?” Coppelia clapped her hands together, the force causing several coins to shimmy in movement. “They're always fashionable!”
“... Then that will do, thank you.”
“Decorations?”
“A tapestry of the 1172 Battle of Remansille, featuring the fall of King Reorick the Wolfenheart as he is betrayed by the lance of Sir Jorund the Gladiator, and his subsequent avengement by the first Reisenritter of Sophista.”
I nodded.
A fine choice. The Royal Villa had a copy of the very same 104 metre long tapestry. It'd spawned more narrative poems and epic ballads than any other cultural work of the 12th century. And uniquely, also didn't include any tasteless nudity.
Coppelia blinked.
In that moment, I could hear a thousand cogs and gears whirring away as she put every morsel of thinking power into dreaming the Winter Queen's request into reality.
Eventually, she nodded, raising her fists in a vow of commitment before she went to work. The sound of snow being padded together soon filled the air.
“An excellent handmaiden,” said the Winter Queen, balancing the teacup atop her head with practised precision. “Alas, my own handmaidens are more keen to frolic in the snow than rush to my aid.”
I smiled as the first compliment concerning my hiring processes reached me. Many more would come.
“Coppelia has much to learn, particularly concerning the ability to throw herself in harm's way for me. However, nothing concerning her spirit or loyalty can be faulted.”
“Then I'm free to offer my envy. It's been some days now since I was cruelly snatched away from my abode, and yet the only ones steadfast enough to reach me are my own snow ducks.”
She pointed at the fluffy white duck by the foot of her chair, its crystalline beak pecking at the only copper crown in the treasury.
A worthy pet. Should a copper crown fall before me, I'd also expect Coppelia to do away with it. Preferably by paying it towards the cost of an apple.
Even so, a protest needed to be lodged.
“Do your minions have the authority to trespass upon the Kingdom of Tirea, Winter Queen?”
She shrugged.
“No more than yours have the authority to kidnap the ruler of the Winter Court, befouling the Frozen Palace and slaying dozens of my subjects in the process.”
I considered her point. Again, I nodded. As did she.
“It's been, my, at least two centuries?” she mused, taking down her teacup to enjoy a sip of the clear liquid. “How nostalgic. I've almost missed being stolen for use in some predictably unimaginative scheme. I suppose I was long overdue.”
The Winter Queen looked around at the sight of a cavern filled with wealth. Not a single item impressed her by the size of her yawn. She sat back in her chair, her wings fluttering as her arctic eyes took in my poise. Just as I did hers.
“So you say. But perhaps you'd be harder to steal if you didn't take the guise of a crown. Quite the ruse. I take it that being placed on the head of fair maidens is related to your lack of blemishes?”
The Winter Queen made no denial. She lifted her hand to her lips, mouthing a silent giggle.
“A worthwhile exchange. I bequeath unimaginable power onto those of great will and a highly unattainable standard of youth and beauty, then allow them to build wrinkles in my place. Wonderful, no?”
I nodded my head.
If I were in her place, I'd do the same. Especially after seeing how her skin remained smoother than the snow despite the untold years she had lived.
“And how often do you permit yourself to be stolen, say, by an elven sword saint whose appearance is wasted on her rather bizarre personality?”
The Winter Queen smiled.
“Less than I'd like. It's been far too long since my last host found itself wanting against the Summer Queen's flames. And there's only so long one can remain a crown without the need to stretch their wings.”
I glanced tellingly at the dark ceiling.
“And yet I see that the sky remains closed to you.”
“Not all things go to plan.” The Winter Queen took another sip from her teacup before raising it atop her head. “The Snow Dancer's lack of ambition being one of them. The way she tossed me between her hands was particularly inglorious. But even that paled in comparison to the way she punted me away without a second thought. The humiliation will take another century to recover from.”
“I imagine it could be worse. What if someone puts you on whose wrinkled appearance you have no wish to take? An old hag in a hut? A peasant in a field? Or any man, for that matter?”
“Oh, then I just consume their soul.”
“Ah.”
The Winter Queen adjusted her teacup, then crossed one leg over the other.
“Now, to the drudgery of business?”
I offered her my most stately frown. Her response would determine whether it became a scowl.
“To recompense, actually. You permitted yourself to be stolen. And now your Winter Court sits in the Wovencoille, sealing off our rightful ability to cut down the ancient trees you planted for use in our bed frames. This is unacceptable.”
“Whether I permitted it is irrelevant. Crime is a crime and to steal a sovereign is quite the mark of disrespect. But you needn't fear. It is simple theatrics. Or was. I expect that your kingdom will be razed in ice should I not return in good time. And yet here I am, neither used nor worn. And so I ask you, what is the shallow boon that is pleaded of me? The witless wish for which I was stolen? The bargain for which I will never acquiesce? Is it the gleam of treasures greater than a dragon's heart that is desired? A weapon to break all shields? A vial to twist love and hatred?”
I opted to maintain my frown. For now.
“I cannot answer that, Winter Queen. I was not the one who stole you.”
“I know. Which is why I'm asking him.”
The Winter Queen indicated with her chin behind me.
I leaned out from my chair, peering back towards the treasury entrance.
There, standing alone in the arched doorway, was the treasonous ruler of the Duchy of Aquina.
Greying, and yet boasting more colour on his clothing than all the banners in his castle combined, Duke Valence wore a flowing cloak upon a wide suit of armour fit to carry both the size of his waistline and his ambitions.
My, such regal attire.
Were anyone to witness him in such fine uniform, they would be mistaken in their belief that he was someone of importance. Someone of royalty.
A wish, I knew, which would never be realised. Not least by the hands of the fae.
No matter how he begged or threatened, the Winter Queen would not grant whatever request this bumbling oaf wished to see fulfilled. Just as this man held no power over the Kingdom of Tirea, he held no power over the Winter Court.
Because the Winter Queen, now here in her true form, saw no interest in him.
She did not even bother to assume the guise she used to invite those foolish enough to test her unbreakable willpower. And so she merely looked on as I did, bored and unconcerned as the errant Duke of Aquina strode forwards.
He stopped before the Winter Queen's throne, without once pausing to look at the princess he served. Of all his crimes, that was the greatest.
At the end of his tenure, pettiness was all this man could achieve … even as he drew a glimmering sword from the sheath by his side.
It was no practised manoeuvre. No unfurling of a weapon by a knight.
Even so, both I and the Winter Queen eyed it, waiting to see how this man would choose to meet his end.
Lifting it–he slammed the tip down into the treasury floor, bending a knee as a crack appeared in the ground.
“Winter Queen,” said the Duke, not yet daring to look up at the face of the bemused fae. “The shallow boon I ask is your rule. The witless wish your protection. And the bargain I offer is Aquina. I swear to the Winter Court the fealty, devotion and vassalage of all my subjects and myself, and ask for nothing but your grace in return.”
The Duke lifted his head.
And to this–
The Winter Queen smiled.
kayenano Thanks for being amazing readers! If you'd like to support my writing and read the entirety of the rest of this arc (20 chapters ahead!), you can do so over at my Patreon.
The Duchy of Aquina's treasury was as scandalous as I imagined.
It was less a treasury room and more a dragon's cavern.
Ornate chests vomited gold and silver crowns, unlocked strongboxes proudly revealed glittering gemstones and breathtaking jewellery, and open armoires boasted suits of armour decorated with gilded crystals and weapons which shimmered with the opulence of the finest pearls.
Everywhere I looked, illegally undeclared taxable income spilled from every orifice as the accumulated wealth of Aquina filled my vision.
Piles of coins lay scattered with little attention to detail or proper bookkeeping, ensuring that no tax inspector would be seeing the light of day for many weeks once this veritable hoard was presented to the Royal Treasury for counting.
And yet it all paled in comparison to the wealth exhibited by the second most beautiful being in this room.
Sitting on her makeshift throne of snow and coins, a woman whose likeness was that of a young elven maiden wore a dress of purest snow as she basked in moonlight streaming from corners where no window to the sky existed. Her dress was unembellished and unadorned, and yet the overwhelming delicateness of its material put the richest velvet to shame.
She was the Winter Queen. And when she moved, her garment didn't simply move with her. It fluttered like a silken curtain. As did her wings.
Hers possessed no colour. It was a shimmering mirror, a waterfall of images and lights reflecting all the treasures around her. Within those butterfly-like wings, I saw all the crowns and treasures of Aquina glimmering back at me, waiting to be retrieved.
And I would.
But like all things, there was an order to things. And I was no Snow Dancer. Etiquette had to be entertained.
Thus, I walked up to the Winter Queen–and then began to sweep snow and coins onto the spot just opposite her.
“Coppelia, help me make a chair.”
“Got it!~”
Before the raised eyebrow of the Winter Queen, my future handmaiden and I wasted no time. Rolling up our sleeves, we piled snow and coins onto the point I designated with professional workmanship.
A few moments later, an extremely unfashionable chair was now raised before the Winter Queen.
It was something which couldn't even be exhibited in a contemporary art museum, the graveyard where all talentless hacks sent their works to die these days. But appearance was secondary.
Height was all that mattered.
I hopped before clutching the edge of the seat. My foot failed to find purchase in the chair's uneven slope as coins rained down. Coppelia skipped up and offered her hand. I accepted, allowing her to pull me atop the freshly made chair.
I carefully turned and sat, crossing one leg over the other as I officially bested my opponent in inches from the ground.
Then, I offered a frown to the fae whose appearance belied the years swirling in her arctic eyes.
“Winter Queen,” I said, now able to converse appropriately. “It's unseemly for me to present myself to a monarch sat on a throne within the lands of my own kingdom.”
She sipped at her teacup. A liquid so clear shimmied that for a moment, I'd believed it to be empty.
“Princess of Tirea. It's also unseemly to kidnap the monarchs of other kingdoms.”
I considered her argument. Then nodded. As did she.
“How is the chair?” she asked, placing her teacup atop her head.
“Extremely comfortable,” I replied, as my derrière burned from the cold. “My future handmaiden's skill in carpentry is as famed as her tact and discretion.”
Coppelia was stood right beside the Winter Queen, leaning in while taking in everything from the fae's tall figure to the mirror wings and the teapot atop her head.
She waved at her reflection in the Winter Queen's wings as her eyes brimmed with curiosity. Then, she breathed a puff of warm air at the mirror sheen, watching as the condensation slowly evaporated.
But not before drawing a smiley face first.
“That's … That's so cool!” she said, her own expression matching the one she'd just drawn. “You have mirrors on your back! That's … well, it's totally useless! Unless you want to accidentally blind someone when the sun catches you! You're literally a walking health hazard! Amazing!”
The Winter Queen glanced at Coppelia.
“My wings do not simply reflect light, clockwork doll. They amplify it. When I soar beneath the mortal sun, every eye to bear witness to my splendour winces in uncontrollable discomfort as colour spots plague their vision for months.”
Already, Coppelia's eyes were lit up with sparkles. She was already affected. The poor thing.
“That's soooooo pointless! I wish I had wings like that!”
“That wish cannot be made reality, even were you created in the land of the duskless dawn. I regret to say that the wings you see are mine alone. They are unique amongst the fae. Even my sisters who–”
“Also, why do you have a teacup on your head?”
The Winter Queen pursed her lips.
Clearly, she wasn't used to being interrupted while speaking. A terrible bout of impoliteness by Coppelia. And wonderfully, immaculately timed.
That's right! Do not allow this queen who wishes to appear stately any opportunity to control the flow of this conversation!
“I wear a teacup because I wish to,” she explained simply. “As Winter Queen, whether I choose to wear a teacup or a cat atop my head is my royal prerogative.”
Coppelia hummed as she peered this way and that as she took in the new headpiece.
“Want me to make you a hat? Because I can make you a hat.”
The Winter Queen paused.
“What kind of hat?”
“How about a beret?” Coppelia clapped her hands together, the force causing several coins to shimmy in movement. “They're always fashionable!”
“... Then that will do, thank you.”
“Decorations?”
“A tapestry of the 1172 Battle of Remansille, featuring the fall of King Reorick the Wolfenheart as he is betrayed by the lance of Sir Jorund the Gladiator, and his subsequent avengement by the first Reisenritter of Sophista.”
I nodded.
A fine choice. The Royal Villa had a copy of the very same 104 metre long tapestry. It'd spawned more narrative poems and epic ballads than any other cultural work of the 12th century. And uniquely, also didn't include any tasteless nudity.
Coppelia blinked.
In that moment, I could hear a thousand cogs and gears whirring away as she put every morsel of thinking power into dreaming the Winter Queen's request into reality.
Eventually, she nodded, raising her fists in a vow of commitment before she went to work. The sound of snow being padded together soon filled the air.
“An excellent handmaiden,” said the Winter Queen, balancing the teacup atop her head with practised precision. “Alas, my own handmaidens are more keen to frolic in the snow than rush to my aid.”
I smiled as the first compliment concerning my hiring processes reached me. Many more would come.
“Coppelia has much to learn, particularly concerning the ability to throw herself in harm's way for me. However, nothing concerning her spirit or loyalty can be faulted.”
“Then I'm free to offer my envy. It's been some days now since I was cruelly snatched away from my abode, and yet the only ones steadfast enough to reach me are my own snow ducks.”
She pointed at the fluffy white duck by the foot of her chair, its crystalline beak pecking at the only copper crown in the treasury.
A worthy pet. Should a copper crown fall before me, I'd also expect Coppelia to do away with it. Preferably by paying it towards the cost of an apple.
Even so, a protest needed to be lodged.
“Do your minions have the authority to trespass upon the Kingdom of Tirea, Winter Queen?”
She shrugged.
“No more than yours have the authority to kidnap the ruler of the Winter Court, befouling the Frozen Palace and slaying dozens of my subjects in the process.”
I considered her point. Again, I nodded. As did she.
“It's been, my, at least two centuries?” she mused, taking down her teacup to enjoy a sip of the clear liquid. “How nostalgic. I've almost missed being stolen for use in some predictably unimaginative scheme. I suppose I was long overdue.”
The Winter Queen looked around at the sight of a cavern filled with wealth. Not a single item impressed her by the size of her yawn. She sat back in her chair, her wings fluttering as her arctic eyes took in my poise. Just as I did hers.
“So you say. But perhaps you'd be harder to steal if you didn't take the guise of a crown. Quite the ruse. I take it that being placed on the head of fair maidens is related to your lack of blemishes?”
The Winter Queen made no denial. She lifted her hand to her lips, mouthing a silent giggle.
“A worthwhile exchange. I bequeath unimaginable power onto those of great will and a highly unattainable standard of youth and beauty, then allow them to build wrinkles in my place. Wonderful, no?”
I nodded my head.
If I were in her place, I'd do the same. Especially after seeing how her skin remained smoother than the snow despite the untold years she had lived.
“And how often do you permit yourself to be stolen, say, by an elven sword saint whose appearance is wasted on her rather bizarre personality?”
The Winter Queen smiled.
“Less than I'd like. It's been far too long since my last host found itself wanting against the Summer Queen's flames. And there's only so long one can remain a crown without the need to stretch their wings.”
I glanced tellingly at the dark ceiling.
“And yet I see that the sky remains closed to you.”
“Not all things go to plan.” The Winter Queen took another sip from her teacup before raising it atop her head. “The Snow Dancer's lack of ambition being one of them. The way she tossed me between her hands was particularly inglorious. But even that paled in comparison to the way she punted me away without a second thought. The humiliation will take another century to recover from.”
“I imagine it could be worse. What if someone puts you on whose wrinkled appearance you have no wish to take? An old hag in a hut? A peasant in a field? Or any man, for that matter?”
“Oh, then I just consume their soul.”
“Ah.”
The Winter Queen adjusted her teacup, then crossed one leg over the other.
“Now, to the drudgery of business?”
I offered her my most stately frown. Her response would determine whether it became a scowl.
“To recompense, actually. You permitted yourself to be stolen. And now your Winter Court sits in the Wovencoille, sealing off our rightful ability to cut down the ancient trees you planted for use in our bed frames. This is unacceptable.”
“Whether I permitted it is irrelevant. Crime is a crime and to steal a sovereign is quite the mark of disrespect. But you needn't fear. It is simple theatrics. Or was. I expect that your kingdom will be razed in ice should I not return in good time. And yet here I am, neither used nor worn. And so I ask you, what is the shallow boon that is pleaded of me? The witless wish for which I was stolen? The bargain for which I will never acquiesce? Is it the gleam of treasures greater than a dragon's heart that is desired? A weapon to break all shields? A vial to twist love and hatred?”
I opted to maintain my frown. For now.
“I cannot answer that, Winter Queen. I was not the one who stole you.”
“I know. Which is why I'm asking him.”
The Winter Queen indicated with her chin behind me.
I leaned out from my chair, peering back towards the treasury entrance.
There, standing alone in the arched doorway, was the treasonous ruler of the Duchy of Aquina.
Greying, and yet boasting more colour on his clothing than all the banners in his castle combined, Duke Valence wore a flowing cloak upon a wide suit of armour fit to carry both the size of his waistline and his ambitions.
My, such regal attire.
Were anyone to witness him in such fine uniform, they would be mistaken in their belief that he was someone of importance. Someone of royalty.
A wish, I knew, which would never be realised. Not least by the hands of the fae.
No matter how he begged or threatened, the Winter Queen would not grant whatever request this bumbling oaf wished to see fulfilled. Just as this man held no power over the Kingdom of Tirea, he held no power over the Winter Court.
Because the Winter Queen, now here in her true form, saw no interest in him.
She did not even bother to assume the guise she used to invite those foolish enough to test her unbreakable willpower. And so she merely looked on as I did, bored and unconcerned as the errant Duke of Aquina strode forwards.
He stopped before the Winter Queen's throne, without once pausing to look at the princess he served. Of all his crimes, that was the greatest.
At the end of his tenure, pettiness was all this man could achieve … even as he drew a glimmering sword from the sheath by his side.
It was no practised manoeuvre. No unfurling of a weapon by a knight.
Even so, both I and the Winter Queen eyed it, waiting to see how this man would choose to meet his end.
Lifting it–he slammed the tip down into the treasury floor, bending a knee as a crack appeared in the ground.
“Winter Queen,” said the Duke, not yet daring to look up at the face of the bemused fae. “The shallow boon I ask is your rule. The witless wish your protection. And the bargain I offer is Aquina. I swear to the Winter Court the fealty, devotion and vassalage of all my subjects and myself, and ask for nothing but your grace in return.”
The Duke lifted his head.
And to this–
The Winter Queen smiled.
kayenano Thanks for being amazing readers! If you'd like to support my writing and read the entirety of the rest of this arc (20 chapters ahead!), you can do so over at my Patreon.
