Macster - The Last Dragon

He suppressed a yawn. Kingship was not at all what he had expected it to be. Oh, he did truly enjoy serving the people, caring for their welfare, and making sure peace and justice existed throughout his lands. But he had not counted on the quotidien minutiae to be so frightfully dull. Endless petitioners, with their petty problems that really could be solved by plain common sense on their own time, rather than wasting his. Endless documents, decrees, laws, and pardons that could be left to his advisors and lower functionaries to seal under his signature, most of which were not momentous enough or had enough far-reaching consequences as to require his personal attention. Endless Council meetings where the Lord Chamberlain and his other advisors droned on about nothing, successfully sending him into the realms of sleep. And the one thing he had once enjoyed, the fussing and pampering over his wardrobe and etiquette provided by Lord Rupert, no longer held the charm it once did. Long days of heavy traveling in the form of a golden retriever, and seeing how the other side lived, tended to change one's perspective.

He smiled to himself regretfully. Giles had been right, spending time among the people had made him a better king. As Snow White had put it, being a dog had been good for him.

The Little Lamb Villager currently before the throne--most likely one of the ubiquitous Peeps--took his smile as a sign of approval of his petition and nodded firmly. "Thank you for your time, Your Majesty!" He turned and hurried from the chamber. Wendell debated whether to call him back and find out precisely what he had just agreed to, then decided to let it slide. Surely one of his advisors would catch the details as the man left.

Several more petitioners presented their cases before Wendell was able to call a short and much needed break. As soon as the line of supplicants retreated sufficiently, the king heaved a sigh of relief and turned to the man seated beside his throne, at a slightly lower level. "Well, Anthony, now you know what my life consists of these days."

Tony Lewis snapped awake, flinched slightly, and glanced around to see if anyone had noticed he'd been napping. He carefully smoothed the front of his suitcoat and offered Wendell a self-deprecating grin. "Ah, Your Majesty...I wouldn't be you for all the world right now. No offense meant, of course."

"None taken." Wendell eyed him knowingly but made no comment. "What, you mean to say even the offer of young beauties hanging on your every word does not tempt you?" He chuckled as he reminded Tony of his initial offer for a job at the banquet following the defeat of his stepmother, and looked pointedly toward the plate-glass windows lining the throne room, where lines of courtiers watched breathlessly, many fair maidens and ladies among them.

The New Yorker followed his gaze and smiled appreciatively, but shook his head imperceptibly. "It's not that I'd mind the work, Your Majesty, I've learned the value of determination and hard labor. I just don't see the point of all this posturing and false praise. You're not really getting anything done that one of your advisors couldn't do."

Wendell smiled broadly. "I couldn't agree more, Anthony. But tell that to Lord Rupert."

Tony seemed to envision the foppish courtier and winced. "No thanks, Your Majesty."

The king chuckled, and intended to continue the conversation, asking Tony what he would do to alleviate the situation--his former manservant had proved quite sly and clever in the political atmosphere of the Fourth Kingdom. But before Wendell could do so, a vast stir occurred in the watching crowd, and voices were raised in a deep hum of excited conversation. Wendell frowned and raised up on his throne, trying to see what all the ruckus was about, but all he could tell was that everyone was turned toward the entrance. Someone had arrived who had shocked the entire court.

"Anthony...can you see who it is they're gossiping about?" The king gave up all pretense of protocol and rose to his feet, even going so far as to half-climb upon his throne to see better.

"Um...no, I...wait, there's someone coming..." Tony paused, and went completely still. When he spoke next, it was in a hushed whisper, and his face betrayed intense awe. "It's a woman..."

Wendell wondered what woman could possibly have such an effect on the jaded Tony, and then he caught sight of her too, just passing through the towering panels of gold into the throne room--and his breath fled as well.

Every nerve tingled, every inch of his flesh tensed, as he beheld a vision of beauty and elegance, of loveliness and grace, intermixed somehow with a vague sense of unease...foreboding, distrust, even a touch of horror that chilled him to the bone. But these negative emotions were driven into the background. The woman approached, wrapped in silvery-white fur and bone-white silk, a massive train dragging behind her along the crimson carpeting. On either side of her, the crowd parted like waves upon the sea, some even stumbling in their haste to avoid touching her. She was flanked on either side by two horrendous figures, monstrous beasts as ugly and menacing as Trolls but lacking the awful stench, for they were formed fully from carved, living ice.

Wendell tugged nervously on the collar of his crisp, white, royal uniform. It was impossible...but there was no denying who she was. She wore a crown of bluish icicles, and those ice demons clinched it. This was the Ice Queen, ruler of the Eighth Kingdom. But she had never left her frozen haunts, not in a hundred years...she had remained in her palace, hidden from the world, by all accounts plotting in solitude her conquest of the Kingdoms.

What could she possibly want here?

The Ice Queen glided to a stop before the dais on which his throne was raised. Slowly Wendell returned to the floor, feeling incredibly embarrassed, and cleared his throat. "Y-Your Majesty."

"Ahhhh Wendy, how good it is to finally meet you," she responded at once in a voice equal parts warm humor and cold arrogance. "I've heard so much about you. Your exploits against your stepmother were most impressive. News of them even reached my distant kingdom. I am so sorry I could not attend your coronation...although in retrospect that is a good thing, as I fear I would not have appreciated that dash of Troll dust all your guests received."

Wendell was taken aback on several levels--her casual familiarity, her apparent commiseration over his plight, her approval of his success, even her flash of humor. It was not at all what everyone, from his grandmother on down to his present advisors, had told him to expect from the Ice Queen. What was this? Could her icy heart have finally thawed? "I...I...I thank you, Your Majesty. I too wish you could have attended. But I was under the impression you did not involve yourself in the affairs of the other Kingdoms...although I offered you an invitation out of courtesy in any case. Was I mistaken?" He could not tear his eyes from the seductive curves of her legs and hips, and the soft, downy mounds of her breasts, like two gentle snowdrifts shifting in a winter wind. He had been warned that she would freeze him in his tracks if ever they met...but he'd had no idea of the manner in which her nature would...harden him...

"You were not mistaken, Your Majesty." The Ice Queen smiled coldly, but there was still the undertones of the coquette in her reply. "I simply made a change in policy. I thought it best, after that dreadful Queen's takeover plot and the near disaster to all the Kingdoms, to bury the ice pick, so to speak. We should not be quarreling amongst ourselves, we should be working together, for the good of our peoples."

The king swallowed hard. He managed to tear his eyes away and flicked them to Tony, who was similarly stupefied, then to his advisors and courtiers. The Lord Chamberlain, his newly-appointed Chancellor, the Mayor of Hamelin--all of them were just as stunned and confused as he. Several looked frightened or worried, but only one seemed ready to denounce the Ice Queen, or to flee--Lord Rupert, who stood near one of the open side doors.

"I...see. That is most refreshing, Your Majesty. So...did you have something specific in mind to formalize relations between our kingdoms?" Wendell tried to hide his growing discomfort and infatuation behind a veneer of cordiality.

The Ice Queen seemed to consider for a long moment. "I don't see why not. I did in fact come here with the intention of...discussing the nature of our relationship." Something about the way she said the word "discussing" did not bode well. "But first...I wanted to offer you a gift."

"A gift?" Wendell blinked. This was even more unexpected. Why would she give him a gift...and what could she offer him? "That...sounds most welcome."

With a flourish the Ice Queen extended a pale, ringed hand and smiled. "Why thank you, Wendell. But before I can give you this gift, you must accept it freely...and also offer another in return."

Wendell's entire body went rigid. His entire being screamed at him not to accept. Yet he could find no definitive reason why he felt this way. It was as if some sixth sense warned him against it. His heart thudded in his chest the way it had that day in the Snow White Memorial Prison when he had been confronted by the Queen. He glanced aside at Tony. The man was fairly frantic with need, and his entire countenance shouted for him to agree. His mouth formed the words "Say yes!" Beyond him, his advisors neither agreed nor disagreed, although all faces bore frowns or grim expressions. Still, it was clear to him they left the final decision in his hands, exactly where it should be.

Except, of course, he had no idea what to do or say.

Shaking visibly, the king clasped his hands behind his back, his knuckles cracking under the strain as he wrung his soft silk gloves. He did not want to say it, but protocol and diplomacy, and the strange sensations the Ice Queen provoked in him, all insisted he say it. "Very well. I accept your gift. And what is it you wish me to give you?" He began running through a list of possible choices in his mind...

The Ice Queen smiled again, quite broad and very malicious this time. A thin tapering wand of ice slid from her sleeve into her hand, and she extended it to point the star-crowned tip at him. "Why...your Kingdom, of course!"

A blast of ice whistled through the air toward him, bursting from the wand...

Wendell threw up his hands in self-defense, but it was far too ineffectual and far too delayed. Even as he stumbled down the steps from the throne to wrench her wand away, he found his limbs freezing, his chest stiffening, his blood congealing, his breath rasping between his suddenly numb lips. And then his eyesight became clouded, as the bitingly cold frost that covered his body thickened, formed icicles, and grew to form a massive block of ice, perfectly encasing his form in mid-step.

Entombed in a living death, the king could only move his terrified eyes as the Ice Queen cackled like a banshee and pointed again and again with her enchanted wand, striking Tony, the Lord Chamberlain, and every other courtier in the room. Only Lord Rupert escaped, dodging out the door and tumbling facefirst in the soil of the central garden before scrambling to his feet and dashing from view, headed toward the western wing of the palace.

In moments the entire cadre of his advisors, including Tony, had joined Wendell in his icy prison. Only the watching petitioners remained. Slowly the Ice Queen turned to face the crowd, a bitter smile on her blue-violet lips. "Anyone who wishes to share in their fate, step forward at this time. The rest of you have a choice: serve me, or leave this place...now."

No one stirred for a long time, too afraid to move lest they be added to her collection. Then, one by one, the entire crowd departed the room in utter silence, only five remaining to enter her service.

When the room was empty, the Ice Queen gestured to her slaves, and the ice demons joined her new human servants to guard every entrance to the room. Any found attempting to enter would be taken before her and summarily frozen as well. With a confident, arrogant stride the snow witch circled Wendell's frozen form and mounted the dais. She sat upon his throne with deliberate slowness and brandished her wand, rolling it idly between her icy fingers, twirling it as she eyed the room. "Thank you, Wendell. I find your gift most pleasing. You shall be most rewarded when this game is done. When I sit upon the thrones of every Kingdom...and the lands have joined my icy empire, fallen under the sway of my spell. Then all shall be as it was meant to be from the beginning of days, and Happy Ever After shall be but a dream...unless, of course, you come to see, as I do, how truly happy the cold shroud of death can render you."

Wendell could not move, could not speak, could not breathe, suspended alive by the power of her wicked ensorcellment. But he could still see Tony several feet away, frozen in a half-crouch as he rose from his chair. The man's eyes were equally terrified and haunted and desperate.

But there was nothing either of them could do. The Ice Queen's conquest of the Nine Kingdoms had begun, and no one remained free to stop it, except perhaps Lord Rupert. And Wendell would not trust the fate of a Troll to his supercilious hands.

And one other remained, one who kept hope alive in the king's heart. Virginia. She had been due to meet with him this very day. She could yet arrive through the magic mirror, if it could be activated, and save Wendell from his own folly.

She had saved the Nine Kingdoms once. She could do so again. She had to...