Vianne
The Winter Queen
Queen Vianne trudged through the snow, clutching her pet, Sneaky, close to her body.
Sneaky couldn't have looked crankier about the morning adventure. And Vianne could not blame her; the white stuff was coming down fast and steady. In fact, it looked like it could be the worst storm of the year. But Vianne wasn't about to let it deter her little expedition. She had to find the throne of her grandmothers. That was where she would meet the chieftain of the Ghost clan.
Alone.
Of course her advisors didn't know about this. If they had, they would have tied her to the great tree growing inside the common area of her palace. After all, she was a winter queen, not a summer king. Winter was a time of peace, not wars and strained politics among her people. Winter queens like herself rarely dealt with this kind of danger. Her advisors would have certainly insisted this issue was better suited for her cousin, the summer king, to solve in the spring.
Spring could be too late for someone, Vianne reminded herself, and my cousin is a long journey away, in the Imperial capital. All someone could have is me. She picked up her pace.
The forest seemed so still. It also seemed a little confusing to navigate through; land marks she knew were hidden under an extra layer of fresh loose powder.
Eventually she caught sight of a jagged rock poking out of the snow and exhaled. Before continuing onward, she paused. Her destination was very close, just through this cluster of trees, and - there!
The old throne stood on a small, perfect little hill. At one time, there probably were no trees on that hill, but now shrubs grew wild on it in such a way that a person had to have keen eyes to not mistake it for part of the mountainside. Surprisingly, the throne itself was nearly clear of snow. No doubt, it was drafty up there.
Sneaky growled when Vianne slipped and fell on her way up to the top. Vianne quickly scrambled back to her feet, almost sliding right back down the bank. She latched onto a tree, and pulled herself upward, finally reaching the top. The throne was constructed from pinkish grout or cement, and had beautiful glass tiles and baubles set into it.
Gently, she set Sneaky down and scanned her surroundings. The prospect of an ambush was certainly on her mind; it had been on her mind since the other evening, when she found a response to her secret letter, near the big frozen waterfall outside the palace. The response had been a simple language character burned onto a piece of wood. The character was in one of the old mountain dialects, which translated into "yes".




