Once upon a time, in a land far, far away known as Fairytaletopia, everyone lived in peace and harmony.
Well, that may not have been exactly true, but the majority accepted the world as such. For the most part, everyone minded their own business, living their mediocre-ever-afters, relatively undisturbed as time passed. New stories turned the page, some unlucky historical figures forgotten, others revered. Kingdoms rose and fell. Strategic alliances formed. The ordinary plebes went about their daily business. It was not unlike any other historical narrative. It was peaceful, sure. But then you could say that with peace comes laziness.
Without conflict, there's no fear. Without fear, there's no concern. Without concern, there's complacency. And herein lies the reason why sloth is one of the seven deadly sins. The people of Fairytaletopia let their guard down, allowing darkness to slip through the cracks in a world where nothing was as certain as it seemed. Let me tell you a story. I suppose I'll start from the beginning.
Snow Kingdom was a place of elegance and beauty—strange, of course, but no stranger than anywhere else. Snow fell almost year-round, frosting the trees with glittering silver and coating the mountaintops in what appeared to be, from a distance, dollops of cream sprinkled with snowflakes and pink camellias. It had been still called Lakeland not too long ago, and it was cold then, celebrating enormous festivals each winter solstice when the first flake fell. But ever since the queen had been struck with icy powers the whole country had become engulfed completely in white. The Snow Kingdom territory stretched across the northernmost region of the map, and even the sun often elected to leave it be and spent its time down in Fairy Kingdom instead.
Much like the other major kingdoms that made up Fairytaletopia, Snow could be separated into multiple regions, each overseen by a minor royal family who submitted to the rule of the official king and queen: East Snow, West Snow, North Snow, South Snow, and, lastly and most significantly, Central. Smack-dab in the middle of Central Snow Kingdom and vaguely in the center of the entire country sat a large castle gleaming white with the snowfall its queen loved so dearly—surely, you've heard of her.
Snow White.
There was a time when she'd been nothing more than an innocent young woman desperate to escape the looming claws of her wicked stepmother, the detestably departed "Evil Queen", but an apple, a kiss, and the granting of magic had brought her more stress in just three fleeting years than she ever thought one could possibly hold on her own frail shoulders. She and her husband had made haste to join the Royal Alliance to avoid future conflict. Yes, that Royal Alliance. The Charmings of Fairy, the Castellans of Water, the Roses and Novikovs of Rose, the Santoses of Tower, and, finally, the Whites of Snow. The wealthiest and most powerful political figures of the generation. Everyone knew their names, their faces, their stories.
Although the kingdom now bore her name in the interest of ridding the citizens of their wicked previous queen, Snow White had already become a distant and jaded ruler for someone so young, enamored with frivolity and blinded to the needs of those below her. This would be her downfall, along with the others.
Today the Snow Queen walked briskly along the path through her royal gardens, accompanied by her only stepson and the crown prince, Everette White (formerly, Belmonte). He was approaching almost seventeen years of age and reminded many in the palace of what young Snow had been like, despite looking her polar opposite. He shared his father's medium chestnut skintone, which had drained in vibrancy from the lack of sun exposure here compared to his previous home—Water Kingdom—and was quite a bit taller than his stepmother.
His dark hair, which fell in soft curls all the way down to his collarbone, was pulled back into a loose ponytail, a strand or two falling in his eyes and making him itch to blow them away. Although his birth mother's identity would perhaps forever be unknown to him, most figured he must have inherited from her those eyes; green as sea glass and clear as day. If one looked close enough peculiar ice blue flecks might be visible, even resembling snowflakes in the sunlight, though a trait he was quite sure he had not been born with. Still, he did not care to learn who his birth mother was, as Snow White was sufficient enough for him. He called her 'mother' and considered her so. She loved him likewise.
They swept through bushes of winter pansies in various colors and Everette plucked a few, for he had always been a kindhearted soul with an eye for the small things which deserved more appreciation in life. He hummed absentmindedly, sticking one behind his ear and a few into his pockets while the queen muttered to herself about how they would probably be late because her husband was always dreadfully slow to get ready. Today was not just any day in the palace, but in fact the day they would set off to travel for the christening of the Fairy Kingdom's firstborn son.
"I'm afraid the morning tea took far too long—"
"There's no reason to worry, Mother."
"Oh, I do hope my travel clothes are ready by the time I reach the dressing quarters—"
"You needn't stress yourself so often, Mother."
Snow White glanced sidelong through her lashes at her son, who had stopped to lift a struggling little bird whose wing was entangled in an overgrown vine. She sighed and kept walking, wondering how she had ever lived without him, and made a mental note to notify the gardeners to work a bit harder.
In the field just beyond the stables a man dressed in chain mail and burgundy leather was instructing young squires in the art of fencing. Wiry young boys still in their awkward phase were shifting uncomfortably in line, peeking over the shoulders of others to get a better look at the two trainees going at each other. Each boy anxiously ticked down the minutes in his head until it would be his turn.
Everette was always fascinated with this process; training with other sweaty, smelly teenagers from dusk till dawn. Many of them would grow up to fight as knights—for him, for the throne he would inherit if his mother could not produce another heir. That was a private matter, but he had heard whispers that the magic had interfered with her ability to conceive. He knew better than to bring up the subject.
He, too, was schooled in the art of warfare, but privately with a tutor and for far fewer hours of the day. Instead, a considerable amount of his time was spent reading world maps and being lectured on the political climate. The difference was clear. He was upper management, and they were the more expendable worker bees. Still, he thought he might have envied them more than he pitied them. There was little adventure waiting for a prince within the castle walls.
The knight instructing them noticed the queen before she had disappeared through the flower arches heading towards the castle, and visibly perked up, waving a hand to stop the two boys fighting. "Your Majesty!"
She turned, albeit somewhat reluctantly. Her hair, soft as silk and black as ebony, draped around her like a magnificent veil beneath a spiked gold crown. Fur lined her neckline, sleeves, and the glittering cloak that trailed behind her.
"Yes?"
"I am terribly sorry, my queen, for I'm sure you are quite busy, but if I could have a word with the prince for a moment...?" Everette paused his examination of a small, determined dandelion poking out of the snow-covered ground and straightened. "Some of the squires have been asking about having Prince Everette join a training day with us, so he could demonstrate his skills, and I was hoping that it may be arranged."
The queen smoothed back her hair and adjusted her crown, which dripped with glittering rubies. This was not just any knight, upon closer examination, but one of the highest-ranking in the castle. Felix Lange was his name. He had saved her life many years ago, when he was just a huntsman hired to kill a blameless girl. She took a step forward and nodded to her son.
"Of course, Sir Lange," Snow White replied as respectfully as she could when her internal clock was screaming that it was silly to be wasting time talking when she should be preparing to leave. "My son will surely be so gracious as to oblige."
Her eyes flicked to him expectantly, crimson lips pursed, and he nodded eagerly. Maybe too eagerly to be princelike, but something that could be fixed in due time. He was still learning, after all, and his penchant for picking things up quickly had been promising thus far. Everette had been the ward of a lost, runaway prince for so long that picking up the etiquette again was difficult. To go from a prince to no one to a prince again was terribly jarring for a young boy. He would never understand what his father had suffered for him, how the illicit affair that led to his conception had destroyed Ramiro Belmonte's family relations and social status.
Everette started off the path but stopped in his tracks as a man in servant's clothes rushed up to the queen from behind, balancing a stack of envelopes in his arms. "Your Majesty! Your Majesty!"
The queen sighed again, a habit that became increasingly frequent with each passing day.
"Yes?" She turned to him exasperatedly, thinly veiled annoyance flickering in her expression. The assistant to the Citizens Department approached her nearly every day with the same request, like clockwork. And every day she irritably thought to herself that she had hired all those bureaucrats for absolutely no reason if they were bringing all their work to her. Just another thing she had to deal with as queen of this wretched mess. Some days she longed for the poison-induced coma.
"So sorry—do you think you could—take some time to review—review these?" he said breathlessly. "The citizen complaints have yet to stop stacking up, and—"
Gah, the citizen complaints. "Can't you see I have more pressing matters at hand?" Snow White retorted with a little more bite than she'd intended, frustration contorting her usually delicate and beautiful features. "There will always be citizen complaints. My obligations currently are elsewhere." The assistant's face fell, and Everette's brow furrowed.
"I... could take a look at them," he found himself saying tentatively, earning an odd look from his stepmother. He squared his shoulders and continued with mock confidence, recalling the various lessons she had taught him over the last few years. "Do have them delivered to my quarters."
He glanced at her for approval and was relieved when she didn't shake her head or make any move to stop him. That was a good step in the right direction.
The assistant's eyes lit up. "Thank you very much, Your Highness! I shall have them sent there immediately."
He beamed at the queen one last time before shooting a grateful smile toward the young prince as he dashed off.
Everette and his mother were locked in a staring contest for what could have been seconds or hours. He found himself questioning his actions under her scrutinizing gaze. Was that not the right approach to something as serious as the citizens' feelings? To listen to them?
"You must learn, someday, that you cannot please everyone," the queen said finally and turned back to the path before them.
He cleared his throat, trying to push down the awkward feeling of guilt, as if he'd done something wrong—although he was fairly certain he hadn't. "I know. But... don't the citizens deserve to be heard?"
"There are much more important things, my darling. When you're older you will understand."
It didn't seem like such a hard thing to understand to Everette. He saw the queen do lots of things but walking among her people was never one of them. He thought that maybe, since the royals were there to serve them, he could take the time to settle their grievances if she could not. Although—what was stopping her, really? She would be spending the next hour being dressed for a limousine ride... Well, it might be best if he didn't think too much about it.
"I need to get the regional nobles together again if we still have a problem," she muttered under her breath as she lifted her skirts and turned back to the palace. She got no further than before, for a soldier emerged from the snowy garden. Now she was really getting irritated.
"There's a disturbance at the palace entrance, my queen!"
Sir Lange, who had returned temporarily to his instruction of the young squires, was suddenly on alert. "What sort of disturbance?"
The soldier gripped the halberd in her hands tightly. "It's... hard to explain, sire," she replied warily. "You have to go see for yourself. The rest of the guards in my cohort were sent down to investigate, but they sent me to guide the queen back to her chambers, in case the intruders get any further."
An intrusion? Has the guard been compromised? Everette thought to himself.
This time when Everette met his mother's eyes there was no disapproval, only alarm. He had never seen that particular emotion displayed across her features so clearly.
"Sir Lange!" she barked. "Protect my son!"
Dutifully he nodded, turning to his squires and instructing one of the taller ones to watch over the others until he returned.
Everette took a step back. "I don't need protection. You need protection. You're the queen!"
"I assure you that I have enough protection," she replied sternly. She lifted her head and followed the soldier girl, and before Everette could chase after them, the knight had grabbed his arm and yanked him along in the opposite direction of his mother, to the entrance.
"I'm not a little boy anymore!" Everette shouted after her, his neck beginning to take on his nervous tic of twitching his head to one side as he wrestled out of Lange's grip. It was no use, of course. She was already gone.
"Well, good," the knight said, boasting a wolfish grin that was probably very inappropriate for the situation at hand, "because we're headed straight towards this supposed danger."
This helped to stifle his annoyance slightly. They entered the castle through a side door and dashed through the hallways as fast as they could, but there were no mutterings about a commotion and no sign anything was out of the ordinary until they pulled the levers to open the heavy double doors which led to the front lawn. The sight outside was nothing less than astonishing: probably thirty guards on patrol shift were doing a synchronized Cha-Cha Slide.
All the clanking was enough to make Everette nauseous, but more unsettling than hearing it was watching it. Respectable men who were usually so rigid and poised with their halberds gleaming, all dancing in sync, their weapons discarded and their eyes glazed over. The revered soldiers of the Snow Kingdom, reduced to some dumb joke. Melodic, entrancing sound danced across the air, and the knight quickly realized what Everette hadn't.
"Cover your ears," Sir Lange ordered quickly, pressing his hands to both sides of his head. Everette didn't understand but decided it best to comply without questioning it. Finally his gaze landed on the source of the music: a girl with short red hair who vaguely resembled a small bird, somehow perched on one of several tall columns and pleasantly playing a golden flute as if nothing was wrong with this picture. Faintly he could still hear the music, so he wriggled his fingers deeper into his ears, hoping that would be enough to block out whatever magic was clearly at hand here. He looked to Sir Lange worriedly, hoping for instruction.
Inside, he mouthed, or maybe he said it aloud, and they abandoned the guards who now looked to be doing the Macarena and shut the front doors again. Everette pulled his fingers back out of his ears.
"We'll come back for them once we make sure that no one has gotten in." Sir Lange seemed to have read his mind. "Whatever that was is obviously supposed to be a distraction."
"Right," said Everette, still deeply unsettled, "but how would anyone get in?"
"All of those soldiers are currently missing from their posts. They could have been guarding side entrances, windows, back doors. For all we know, anyone could be in the castle now."
Everette's eyes darted to and fro, starting to do that awful jerking again with his neck. He forced himself to stop and tried fruitlessly to calm his nerves.
"But my mother, she's safe?"
"Most likely. Our kingdom boasts some of the most highly-trained knights in the world, after all." The knight's eyes softened a bit. The prince had an itching nag that the man himself wasn't so sure. After all, some of those highly-trained knights were currently dancing like zombies to Tech Zone music on a flute of all things. "Now we're ensuring everyone else is. Where did you last see your father?"
My father! He felt ashamed for not thinking immediately of his safety. Where was he... Everette couldn't remember. Sir Lange seemed to understand, dipping his head, and started off down the hall again without another word. Several soldiers were absent from halls and doors that should have been guarded, and yet Everette couldn't shake the creeping feeling that the two of them weren't alone. He could have sworn shadows were dancing across the walls, but surely he was imagining it.
They turned down another empty hallway and Sir Lange stopped in his tracks, holding up a hand for Everette to follow suit. Everette wanted to ask, What is it? but was a little afraid to do so.
"Did you hear that?" the knight whispered. Everette stopped to listen and shook his head.
"Someone's in the ventilation ducts in the walls," he explained, pointing upward. There was a soft, barely noticeable thump thump thumping coming from nearby.
"That can't be the only person here. Someone must have managed to get in through the front entrance before we arrived or there would be less guards missing," Everette pointed out. Sir Lange frowned.
That was when the explosion happened.
They didn't see it, only hear it, but somewhere in the castle must have been destroyed because the sound of the explosion and breaking glass echoed all the way to where Lange and Everette were standing. They took off at a sprint towards the noise, almost slamming into two guards and a knight down the next hall.
"Sir Lange! It's the kitchens!" said the other knight.
One of the guards, the younger one, gestured with his halberd towards the nearby staircase. "The king is already on his way, but one of the servants told us there was someone on the roof!"
"Now there's someone on the roof, too?" huffed Everette, growing more irritated with each new development.
Sir Lange glanced towards the staircase. "Aren't there soldiers stationed up there?"
"There should be, sir, but we haven't yet gone to look ourselves."
"Is anyone checking the other possible entrances?"
"They've been sealed off, sir. From the inside."
Sir Lange did a double take. "Sealed off?"
The young man nodded, fear clouding his eyes. "Not by us. By way of magic. No one can seem to find a way out at the moment."
His eyes widened. "That means we have no way of evacuating the king and queen."
"Exactly," the guard said grimly, and it was then that Sir Lange reached a conclusion of why the intruders were here.
Someone wanted the royals dead.
Determination hardened Sir Lange's gaze. "You, with me to find any open exits. Nakamura, investigate the roof." The other knight nodded his assent and motioned for the second palace guard to follow him, while the first guard remained by Sir Lange's side. Sir Lange turned his attention to the prince, who had been waiting beside him with growing impatience. "You need to stay—"
"That's ludicrous, I'm going to find my mother," he interrupted immediately, not in the mood to listen to any sort of long-winded speech about how he needed to stay safe. "We know where the king is, but the queen could be anywhere and is more likely to be the target of this attack."
Sir Lange's mouth tightened to a grim line but he didn't argue. The queen was untrained in combat and a small woman, and was therefore less likely to survive an assassination attempt if unguarded. She also had more power and fame than her husband and, likewise, more enemies...
"Fine. Do you have a weapon?"
Everette blinked. "A weapon?"
Lange sighed and produced a small dagger from his gauntlet, handing it to him. With that he and the young guard turned and headed in the opposite direction.
Tearing through the palace alone knowing there could be attackers around every corner was more terrifying than Everette cared to admit, and for once the beautiful, sparkling white marble walls swirled with gold were anything but inviting. The walls felt like they were closing in on him, the icy breeze that usually made him feel at home providing nothing but goosebumps. He gripped the knife in his hand so tightly that his knuckles turned as white as his mother's namesake. With each painting he passed, the eyes seemed to be watching him; with each unguarded door he passed he shivered more violently.
It's just a castle, just a castle, just a—
The queen's quarters would be just up ahead, but Everette stood unmoving in astonishment. Before him two complete strangers were dodging punches and kicks from one another. One was a curvy brunette in green leather pants and a top that made his cheeks flush, the other a thin boy probably around his age dressed in pirate getup with a large, unfamiliar firearm strapped to his back. Given the lack of uniforms it was clear they didn't work in the palace, and besides that Everette didn't think anyone from Snow Kingdom would ever be caught dead in what either of them were wearing. He clenched the handle of his dagger even tighter but was too afraid to approach them.
Come on, Everette! The crown prince can handle a couple of street criminals!
Well, he wasn't entirely sure that was true, but he forced himself to step out from behind the corner and start towards them. Somehow they immediately sensed his presence and froze, spinning towards him with their jaws dropped.
"The prince? Where are the guards?" said the girl disdainfully. He recognized the Fairy Kingdom accent immediately, as hers happened to be the variation he was most familiar with: sharp with a choppily melodic quality that tended to flatten vowels.
There had to be two parties of intruders, or those two wouldn't have been fighting. Right? Everette's thoughts were flying at a mile a minute but he couldn't make sense of what was going on. He took a defensive stance, holding out the dagger as he might hold a lance during training, not caring at the moment whether or not that was proper.
The boy glanced from the girl to Everette and back. "Wait. Are we allowed to fight the prince? I kinda wanna fight 'im."
"That's stupid and unnecessary, much like your outfit. Are you just trying to fight everyone?"
He shrugged. "Maybe. Look at 'im, he's too scared to fight. He's just standin' there holdin' a knife all wrong."
Everette scowled and lunged. The boy ducked, spinning just out of reach and laughing, which only frustrated him more. Everette sliced aimlessly, and the stranger easily slid away every time. Finally Everette dropped his weapon and used his body instead, shoving the smaller boy into the wall and earning a pained grunt. He heaved a breath, readying himself to take or aim another blow, but to his surprise the kid gritted his teeth and yanked his strange-looking gun from the strap across his long leather coat.
Before Everette could so much as blink the weapon was aimed at him and fired. He cried out in pain and dropped to the floor, looking in awe at the blade—not bullet—lodged in his leg. The pirate kid stuck his piercing-studded tongue out rather immaturely, hefted up his gun, and strolled away whistling. The older girl must have taken the opportunity to disappear while Everette was fighting him, because he glanced around and saw no trace of her. Good grace, he was awful at this.
As the adrenaline wore off, his leg started throbbing in pain. Burning, but not necessarily stinging, which meant that the handleless blade wasn't poisoned. Or was it the opposite? Did every poison feel the same? Was he supposed to pull it out, or keep it in? The prince could only vaguely remember his assassination survival classes, the only lessons he'd actually engrained to memory regarding what to do and what not to do concerning magical attacks. This wasn't magical, though; there was nothing fantastical about it. It felt concrete, it felt real. This was actually happening.
There were intruders in the castle, shoot, he'd just gotten shot by one of them, and he had no idea where his mother was. Everette was useless. He couldn't even hold a knife properly, or even stand up for himself against two teenagers, and the guards—
No.
He ripped his sash from his tunic and wove it tightly an inch or two above the wound, in case the knife really was poisoned. He pushed himself up again. His mother. His mother was in danger. He was going to get to her one way or another. So he forced himself to stand, wiped his bloody hands on his tunic, and started limping in the direction opposite his attacker had gone.
He had to find her. He had to do something.
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"Lindsay's late," whispered Ramona Swan, pressing her finger to her right ear where a tiny crystal device, nestled just above her ear canal and invisible to anyone passing by, served as her main communication with the rest of her gang.
"You've got—"
"We've got less," interrupted Ramona, inching across the wall and peeking down the corner. Nearly everywhere was eerily empty. That was not to say it was silent. Claude had reported that trying to get to the vault through the kitchens was a bust—it was a mess of guards and cooks and servants and even the king himself. So they'd had to take the long way, and now they were wasting time. Stars, she really hated detours when they were beyond her control.
"Right, then," said Minerva Lynon huffily, her voice coming in as clearly as if she were standing in earshot. Perks of magic tech. "I'm at the edge of the woods, and I was going to say that you need to cut that time even further. I'm watching a tussle on the roof."
"We're not the only ones here," Ramona realized harrowingly, stopping in her tracks. It hadn't occurred to her until now that the kitchens incident was no accident.
"That's correct." Minerva sounded just as unbothered as she always did.
"And it explains a lot." As if on cue, another resounding BANG came from the direction of the kitchens. "Ah, forget it. Claude, meet me at the vault! We're just going to have to defend ourselves if anything goes wrong. Penny, Baby, status?"
She took off at a run, skidding down the hallway until she ran into a gaggle of terrified-looking maids. She sighed and unfurled her wings, hoping for the best as she spun into a spiral to dart over their heads before they even had time to comprehend she was there. The rush of flying, even for a short time, was mesmerizing. It was really a shame she rarely did it anymore.
There was a clicking noise followed by Penny's heavy breathing. "There were, like, fifteen guards coming your way. Keyword 'was'. You're welcome."
Ramona laughed, shaking her head as she sailed down the next corridor. She landed a little ungracefully but quickly recovered, folding her wings again behind her back and retracting them before stumbling to a standing position. Baby Bear—whose nickname was incredibly misleading—towered over Penny Windsor, shooting Ramona a grin and a wave. He was the spitting image of a textbook lumberjack, only much, much larger, and probably hairier too.
Penny scowled at the uniformed soldiers collapsed in a heap at their feet, kicking one for good measure. They'd been an odd team when they first met, but between Bear's sheer size and strength and Penny's determination and practiced skill, they became an inseparable duo as the muscle of the crew. They were lucky they'd found Bear in that trap that day, and he was even luckier, given that he probably would've ended up poacher meat in his animagus form.
"Most of the side door and tunnels are sealed off with some kinda freaky magic runes," he said, gesturing wildly as he spoke. Ramona nodded, twirling one pigtail. She'd seen the floating script on her way over here. The runes reeked of dark magic.
Baby crouched down and got to work propping the unconscious soldiers up against the wall, adjusting their armor and making sure they were all still breathing. This earned an eye roll from his partner, who didn't seem to care whether their victims ended up dead or alive, but Ramona never intended for their heists to result in anyone's death. Violence wasn't generally her style if she could manage to avoid it.
"There wasn't much of anywhere to hide," Penny added, crossing her arms over a brown leather corset and loose blouse that had seen better days. She was the muted kind of pretty that could get lost under her persistent scowl and thick brow. "We had to plow through guards and knock out a couple of servants, there was no getting around it. Luckily someone had already taken care of quite a few of 'em for us. Duckie, I'll be honest, I really don't like this. We don't know what to expect when it comes to this other group of people. There should be anywhere from two hundred to three hundred soldiers in this castle and we've seen maybe fifty, if that."
She was echoing worries Ramona had already shoved down. "I know. We can't afford to focus on that. Less people watching entrances means our job should be easier; an in-and-out heist. It doesn't matter what else is going on here so long as we get out in time to avoid becoming collateral damage. We're just waiting on—"
That was when Claude kicked out the vent on the wall and popped out, struggling to wriggle his way out of the ventilation tunnels. He dropped to the ground with a thump but seemed to be okay, quickly regaining his footing and straightening both his collar and his shoulders. Claude Verelia was prettier than he was handsome, toned but slender limbs beneath expensive clothes and a relatively small face sculpted like a marble statue, and he carried himself as though he was absolutely aware of his good looks. "I am not doing that again," he declared irritably, dusting off wallplaster.
Ramona frowned. She hadn't heard back from Lindsay yet, which meant she might have lost her earpiece. Fairy-flipping fantastic.
"Have you seen—"
"I'm here!" called Lindsay Amata exasperatedly, running toward the others. She took a moment to catch her breath, resting her hands on her knees with glossy pink lips pressed together. "Wow," she managed finally. "I need to work on my cardio."
"Where've you been?" Claude asked, sounding even more annoyed than before.
"Some pirate-looking kid decided we needed to fight for some reason. And then the prince showed up. What's his name? Prince... Prince Evergreen or something? Looks like a vegan."
Ramona tapped her ear. "Crystal?"
She reached up to feel for it. "Oh. I think it's broken. Haven't been able to hear anything for a while."
"Son of a witch," Penny muttered under her breath. Ramona sighed but shook it off, knowing they needed to move on.
"You got the keys at least?"
Lindsay's ears turned bright red, which was less than reassuring.
"We don't have the keys?" asked Baby Bear anxiously when she failed to reply. Ramona looked like she was about to have a stroke, clawing at her temples. This could not possibly get any worse.
"There were no guards!" Lindsay blurted defensively. "No guards, no key ring." Gosh, they were a mess.
"Well, we're right in front of the vault and there's no one around," Ramona said, gesturing to the corridor in front of them. "Time to improvise."
On the vault door was a large wheel that served as a turning mechanism, inlaid with six locks arranged in a circular pattern. Of six keys, they had exactly zero. Not that that would dull Claude's confidence.
Claude cracked his knuckles. "Duckie, lockpicks." She pulled a pair of them from her pocket and he crouched beside the vault, pressing his ear to the first lock and then sticking the picks in, jiggling them around.
Penny put her hands on her hips. "Why are we even pretending? Claude sucks at picking locks. We'll be here for the next millennium."
"Shut up, Windsor," he retorted. "You're messing with my concentration."
"Your concentration on what? The sound of the ocean? What's rubbing your ear all over the door gonna do?"
"Shh."
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The queen tore through the palace, now alone, lifting her heavy skirts and headed for her quarters. She didn't know anyone was waiting for her there. She couldn't have.
When she threw open the doors, it was eerily quiet. Too quiet. And dark. There was no sign of her husband or anyone, for that matter. She could have sworn she was being accompanied by that female guard only a few halls ago, but somehow her own home had turned into a twisting maze working against her, the gleaming walls feeling looming and ominous and the paintings watching her every move. There was so much noise throughout the castle and yet here she was, standing in silence. She lit a sconce on the wall and swept her gaze across her chambers but saw nothing out of the ordinary. A calming breath. Another. Everything was fine, but she knew, she just knew that really it wasn't...
Then out of the nothingness emerged something like a monster, a dragon of sorts, made of shadows and fear and promising death. Its clawed hand reached out, unfurling to offer her something. An apple. Snow White was frozen in place, entranced and terror-stricken. She shook her head, over and over, stumbling back as the dragon roared a silent roar and unleashed its nonexistent fire-breath upon her. Desperately she scrambled away, thrusting out her hand and spraying the imaginary monster with very real magic of her own. The illusion shattered when her ice hit it, and that was when two of her handmaids gripped her from behind by the arms.
A distraction.
"Your Majesty!" one of them called frantically. "Are you alright?"
She was too disoriented to try and recognize their faces. "I just—I saw—did you—"
"We'll send guards up to do a sweep of your chambers," assured the other. "In the meantime, we need to get your brilliant head back in the game."
"Would you like us to take you somewhere to calm down?"
The queen nodded, her head still spinning and her heart rate refusing to slow. "Of course, yes, the—"
"The throne room, your favorite place," the first maid replied with a knowing smile. They escorted her to the nearest staircase.
Meanwhile, across the palace, the queen's son was making his way through the halls once more, feeling like he was going in endless circles. Maybe he was. Eventually he was bound to run into someone, anyone...
Before he would, though, the crew of thieves attempting to break into the royal vault were failing to admit to themselves that this mission was a bust. Penny shoved Claude out of the way and let Baby have a go at the locks instead. He ignored the keyholes and instead yanked at the vault wheel, hoping raw strength would be sufficient to turn it.
"That isn't going to work," Claude singsonged.
It didn't. The door refused to budge, but Lindsay offered half-sympathetically she swore he'd at least made a dent.
"Maybe I can kick out the hinges?" he suggested instead, although he didn't sound too sure. Ramona waved her hand, indicating for him to stop.
"Y'know, what if we—"
They all spun as two figures approached from the right. As they emerged from the shadows it became obvious it was a woman and a dwarf. The dwarf: deathly pale, gray-bearded and red-nosed, wearing clothes so patched and in such a state of disarray even the thieves felt almost sorry for him. The woman: blond, crooked-nosed, in a blue dress and a black cloak. From her belt hung small vials, all clinking against each other, each sloshing with something just as dark and unidentifiable as the last. She held out her wand defensively.
"Who are you?" she snapped, her eyes darting back and forth between the crew. "You all don't work here."
Claude narrowed his eyes at the both of them. "And so what if we don't? Are we supposed to expect to know who you are?"
"Who we are is of no importance to anyone. Not yet. You're—what? A sorry bunch of career thieves?"
Penny stepped forward but was interrupted before she had the chance to do or say anything unwise.
"Status update," Minerva's voice crackled into the thieves' eardrums (excluding of course Linsday, whose enchanted earpiece would regrettably require fixing). They all froze.
Claude pressed a finger to his ear. "Just peachy."
Penny and Lindsay both glared at him. Bear offered a more honest answer.
"We couldn't get into the vault, an' there's a scary lady an' an angry dwarf."
"What?"
"Minerva, how is it outside?" Ramona bit her thumbnail. The two strangers were giving them all funny looks now that they were talking to seemingly no one.
"Everything's fine. Just waiting. You coming or what?"
Claude glanced over at Ramona, and he could practically see the gears turning in her head. That was never good. She probably had a very stupid idea.
"I've got a brilliant idea," Ramona said far too eagerly, a crooked grin spreading across her face. Her eyes flicked to the strangers once more. "There's no point in fighting each other. All of us'll get hurt for no good reason. You aren't here to stop us from stealing anything, are you?"
The dwarf tensed. "No," he admitted gruffly.
"Sounds like we're on the same page," she replied brightly. "Clo, I've got it."
He ran a gloved hand down his face. "Please don't."
"Shut up, you haven't even heard my idea yet. We can't just leave empty-handed. Thanks to someone deciding to take a detour on our last big haul, we're still broke as the little old lady who lived in a shoe."
Claude kept his expression neutral, but he swallowed. He still couldn't figure out why he'd helped that young queen. Was it because she had used to be a lowly miller's daughter? Was it because she reminded him far too much of Sicilienne, young and naïve and scared with no one who could help her but him...?
Everyone else was a puzzle which easily clicked into place, but his own thoughts were often a mystery even to himself. Ramona's grin widened while the strangers looked on... well... strangely. Everyone else elected temporarily to pretend the woman and the dwarf weren't there.
Penny sighed. "Out with it, then."
"We couldn't crack the vault," she explained delightedly, as if it were obvious, "so we're going to steal the queen's crown instead."
Lindsay stared at her blankly. "I'm going to have a stroke," said Penny.
"Holy mother of Thumbelina, Duckie, what kind of idiots would try and steal the Snow Queen's crown?"
Ramona turned to him with a mischievous look that he very much did not like.
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"I told you not to drag me into this!" Claude shouted at her as they both fled from the royal display room, three guards hot on their tail.
Ramona was cradling three of the queen's special occasion crowns to her chest, clanging together as she ran. "I don't know why they care so much about these stupid crowns! They're just headwear, and apparently she's got about fourteen of them!"
"I thought all the guards were incapacitated!" he yelped, narrowly missing being grabbed from behind as they dashed down the next hall.
"I guess the last ones standing thought the most important thing to be protecting was a bunch of glorified headbands," Ramona muttered under her breath. Suddenly she skidded to a halt, eyes widening as another guard appeared in front of them. She spun, and there were two more to their right.
They were surrounded.
"The two of you are under arrest for attempted theft of the queen's crown," said a breathless palace guard, wrenching her hands behind her back and pinning them together. Ramona blew her bangs out of her eyes, irritated.
"I hate you," Claude grumbled.
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Back at the vault the blond woman gave up on her staredown with Bear, Lindsay, and Penny.
"What losers," she muttered, and signaled to her dwarf companion before sweeping into the shadows and disappearing from view. The thieves glanced around warily, but she was gone and it was impossible to tell where. The dwarf bared his teeth at them and headed in the same direction Claude and Ramona had gone. Bear motioned for them to go the other way, remembering a nearby staircase.
"C'mon, we need to cover for Duckie and Claude. They can meet us back at the roof again. Wait, Minerva, is the roof clear?"
There was a pause, and then: "If 'clear' means covered in either dead or knocked-out dudes, then yeah."
Bear looked concerned but Penny shrugged.
"Works for me." She glanced at Lindsay. "Minerva says we're good on the roof. You think we'll run into any pirates on the way?"
Lindsay cracked her knuckles. "Only skinny ones with ridiculous hair who look like they came straight out of pirate secondary school. Let's move."
And they decided that whatever the heck those other guys in the castle were doing, it wasn't their problem. Unfortunately, it was very much Everette White's problem. He had come to a skidding halt only feet away from the throne room, face-to-face with a dwarf he'd never seen before.
Now that he had a blade lodged in his leg he'd decided that silly questions such as 'who are you' were a waste of valuable time, and didn't hesitate this time to aim his fists at the presumed enemy. He hadn't been taught much fistfighting; it was messy and improper and certainly not fit for a prince of Snow; but he had done enough fencing and watched enough of the stable boys tussle that he hoped he'd be able to figure it out. He swung a fist towards the dwarf but, being a dwarf, he ducked out of the way and lunged for Everette's legs. He hadn't been expecting such strength from such a small creature and was knocked off his feet while the enemy quickly recovered. He scrambled to stand again, sticky blood seeping through the wrap on his injured leg and beginning to drip to the floor. The blade felt like it was sinking deeper into his flesh. It took all his willpower not to scream.
The dwarf growled at him and Everette met his eyes. Those were the eyes of a complete madman—unfocused, wide open and displaying no emotion but pure, unadulterated rage.
"There's an imposter sitting on that throne," he said in his horrible, raspy voice which somehow contained both anger and glee. "She won't be sitting there much longer."
Everette's eyes widened. She must be in there. The throne room. He couldn't let him reach it. "There's no imposter. Snow White is the rightful queen," he grunted while tackling the dwarf. They both rolled across the floor, clawing at each other, each trying to get the upper hand. Everette couldn't shake his thoughts from the evil queen who had once ruled the kingdom of Snow, back when it was still called Lakeland. Snow White's own stepmother. Could she still be alive somehow, with people working for her? He'd been told she was dead.
The dwarf rolled off him again, counting easily to his feet. Everette lurched forward, grabbing hold of his ankle and dragging him back. He only had one goal in mind: keeping him away from the doors.
"Snow White is dead!" the dwarf spat, bringing his elbow up to shove Everette in the face.
"You're insane!" he cried, stumbling and using his momentum to kick his opponent back to the floor. Another punch. A kick. A dodge, a roll, a struggle. Fistfighting was messy, painful business.
"She died years ago!" the dwarf panted. "I watched it, watched her die! You don't forget a good friend's death." Everette had collapsed again, the dwarf taking advantage of his bad leg and pushing on it. Everette let out a strangled cry. His opponent was only inches from his face. Both were breathing heavily, each determined to claw their way to the throne room before the other. Abruptly the dwarf let go, taking his chance to dart for the door. Gritting his teeth through the pain, Everette pushed himself up. His hands were bloody, his body bruised.
He froze, just for a moment.
He had one trick up his sleeve and only seconds to use it.
No one knew. Not even his mother knew. That the mirror which had granted her powers, which was moved to the palace treasury and locked away... that he'd gotten curious. That he'd touched it. That magic was in his blood now too.
Even Everette could hardly understand what he had, what he could do. But the clock was ticking.
The dwarf's chubby, grimy fingers reached out toward the massive, golden double doors.
Without warning Everett's hand shot out and from his fingertips erupted a burst of magic. The same magic his dear stepmother was burdened with. The curse of the Snow Queen.
The ice struck the dwarf so severely that it knocked him backward, and his expression shifted to one of astonishment for a split second before his head slammed to the floor. He clutched his chest, from which was blooming a pattern of frost that Everette knew would soon melt. That didn't matter. He just had to get to the queen first. Nothing else mattered.
He managed to get to his feet and stumble forward. He'd done it.
Triumphantly Everette thrust open the doors. "Mother! Mother, I've..." His voice trailed off as his brain began to actually register the sight in front of him. There she was, in all her regal glory and sitting alone on the throne she so loved, having been abandoned by the handmaids who had accompanied her there. But not as he'd expected to see her. Everette's own mind refused to fully accept what was right before his eyes, thinking the blood was just his own, the lifelessness only of those magic illusions of the shadowy figures moving throughout the castle.
Tentatively he moved closer, his breaths becoming shallow and shaky. "Mother, I've stopped them. I've stopped them, you're alright..." Even doing so his voice grew weaker. He reached the throne and his knees buckled, grasping desperately at her skirts. A sob escaped his lips. His eyes welled; the world blurred.
He was on his hands and knees, soaked in red, everything was red, he was choking on it—drowning in it—
The dwarf's horrible, maniacal laugh echoed from the hallway. It burned into his ears, whittling its way through his brain and right into his heart. The dwarf laughed and laughed, for his statement was now correct.
SnowWhite was very, very dead.
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈
Hellooooo to my lovely readers! And merry Christmas, of course! First of all, thank you very much for taking the time out of your day or night to read my new story. I assure you that I've been just as excited as you all are about it. I hope that everyone reading this in real time had a wonderful holiday!
This was one heck of a start to a fairy tale! I already really love Everette and don't worry, although he won't be the focal point of the story for a while since the thieves are stealing the spotlight from here on out, he will be back to steal all our hearts once again. Hopefully I got out this chapter without too many comma splices. Also, the thieves are a bit of a mess right now, they're kind of the underdogs of the story, but they will get cooler, I promise!
Please take a moment to vote, comment, whatever. Love you all and I'll see you again when I finish chapter 2 (well, not really see you but you know what I mean). Time to open presents! ❤
EDIT: I may or may not have made some changes to this chapter because it's been a while since I first wrote this and I couldn't resist the Urge to fix a few things that were bothering me.
━Ginger