Queen's Thief Fanfic

[eastofthemoon]

I'm hosting a fairy tale theme contest over in the sounis community and thus I wrote my own fic to help them get motivated. ^_^

Title: The Mask of Ice
Author: earthstar_moon
Genre: Romance/General/crossover
Word Count: 1688
Rating: PG
Summary: In exchange for a meal and a drink, an old storyteller offers to tell a tale about a queen and a thief
Author's Notes: This is a slight crossover between The Queen's Thief and the series Jim Henson's The Storyteller. You don't have to know the series to understand this story, but for those who are curious it can easily be found on youtube and I highly recommend the series for any fairy tale lovers.




Once, there was a queen who was blessed to be among the greatest of beauties. Alas, no one saw her face because she wore a mask of ice. Her tragic story started many years ago when her brother passed away.

The prince had died when he fell off his horse and broke his neck. The poor girl could hardly shed a tear as her father and mother died shortly afterward, leaving her alone and in the clutches of the cruel barons.

The girl was now queen, and the barons demanded for her to marry one of them immediately, choosing him to be king. Every day, each one would stare at her with the gaze of a hungry lion. Not one would offer comfort or try to understand the young queen; instead, they stared through her to the large throne she sat on as if she was made of glass.

Knowing she could not let one of these cruel men become king, she went deep, deep into the darkest part of the castle where the mask of ice was kept. It was a beautiful thing of creation and shone brighter than moonlight, however it was feared for the deadly curse that came with it.

Her father had warned her of the mask, but seeing no other alternative she slipped it on with a heavy heart. The next day in the court, the Queen made an announcement.

"I shall marry the man who is able to remove my mask, but be warned there are two conditions. You must first be truthful of why you wish to marry. If your feet are not frozen to the ground you must lay your fingers on my mask and state what my face looks like beneath."

The barons were very cocky. "This is a child's game," they all thought. Ah, but they quickly realized how deadly this game truly was. The first suitor tried to lie and said he wanted to marry her because he loved the queen. By the last word of his speech, he found his feet frozen to the spot he stood upon.

While the attendants boiled water to free the first baron, the next tried. "I won't lie," he thought. "I shall marry the queen by sunset." He declared he wished to marry the queen to become king and was pleased to be able to move forward.

Certain he had won this game, he placed his hands on the Queen's mask ready to tear it off as if it was the shell of a hard boiled egg. "As to what you look like, you have the most beautiful face in the world!"

Yet, when he tried to lift the mask it stayed where it was, remaining heavy as lead. His fingers were burning from the cold to the point he was screaming in pain when he finally let go. He could bring no warmth to his frozen hands again, and he was left in agony until he had them chopped off.

A few other barons tried their luck, but most of them did not wish to lose their hands or feet and quickly gave up. One would think that the Queen had outwitted them - but one would be wrong.

While the queen may have stopped the barons from becoming king, she had also doomed herself. The wearer of the mask paid a terrible price, for you see, the mask freezes the wearer to the point of never aging. Her heart had also become frozen, and she could only feel the last emotion she carried when she had slipped on the mask.

Yes, she was free of the barons, but she had made her own personal cage. However, unbeknownst to the Queen, another story had been lurking within her kingdom. There was a young thief, a cocky one as well.

He could slip into the richest baron's house with a guard in every corner and take every money pouch to be found. He could steal jewels, swords, anything he wished. It was said he could even steal the stars from the sky. But, there was one thing the Thief had not yet dared to steal, for the Thief carried a secret.

On a dare, the Thief had sneaked into the palace when he was a mere boy. By some strange chance, he had caught a glimpse of the young queen when she had sneaked through the garden to find the cursed mask.

The Thief had never seen one so beautiful, but her sad eyes stayed with him. For years, the memory of the Queen's eyes haunted him, lingering like a dream. As tales of the Queen's mask and how she was doomed to wear it for eternity grew, the Thief's heart clenched within his chest. The secret pecked at his heart like a relentless bird till finally he could take it no longer and decided to the make the last theft he would ever do.

The thief entered the palace and found the Queen in her chamber sitting in her chair as if she was waiting for him. "What do you want, Thief?" asked the Queen.

"I've come to remove your mask."

If the Queen's heart had not been frozen, she might have given a mocking laugh. "Many men have tried, what makes you so certain?"

"Because I have more sense than all those barons put together."

"Very well," said the Queen. "Why do you wish to remove my mask?"

The Thief remained where he stood and simply stated. "Because since I saw your eyes, I wished to steal your heart." The Thief held his breath and was able to breathe again once he took a step forward.

The Queen shifted uncomfortably as the Thief drew closer and knelt so they were staring straight into each others eyes.

"What does my face look like beneath this mask," asked the Queen.

The Thief touched his fingers lightly against the cold surface of the ice mask. "It is true that you are beautiful my queen, but that is not what matters. I imagine that beneath this mask is a very miserable face. There is no one alive that would be happy to wear a mask of ice."

The Thief flexed his fingers and with the gentlest of touches he lifted the mask off. The Queen sat, dazed and soaked in every emotion she had missed from all of those years. She felt the grief of her family's death, the anger at the barons, the burden of being alone all at once, and the joy of finally free of her own prison.

Though she tried all she might, she could not hold back the tears and they flowed down her cheeks gleaming like crystals. The Thief made no sound as he held her in his arms and let her cry. True to his word, the Thief had stolen the Queen's heart, and the Queen was more than willing to give it to him.

"So, what do you think?"

Gen rubbed his thumb against the handle of his thick clay mug before sipping his wine. "I preferred your story about the boy who didn't know fear. The ending was far too sappy for my tastes."

The old man laughed, causing his own wine to spill on the table. "Well, it's a story in progress. I'm still working on it." He picked up the last piece of the roasted chicken that had now gone cold. "I'm thinking about adding a talking sheep or cat. The audience loves a talking animal."

Gen smiled. He found the old man amusing. The old storyteller had entered the tavern grinning from ear to ear. The coat he wore was tattered with an odd pattern of vines and flowers sewn into it, and he had the largest nose Gen had ever witnessed. The storyteller announced he was a traveller and declared that if anyone offered to pay for his dinner and a drink he would give them an evening full of stories.

The other patrons, except for a few of the waitresses who offered a small smile, ignored him. Intrigued, however, Gen waved at him and offered a chair.

The storyteller smiled and happily sat at his table. As soon as the chicken and drinks had been ordered, the storyteller began to tell the tale of a girl taking back her sweetheart from an evil troll.

Gen had enjoyed all the other stories that had followed, except for the last one. "What made you decide to make your hero a thief? An odd choice, wouldn't you say?"

"Why, not at all," the storyteller replied folding his hands into his lap. "The trick to telling stories is to have a variety of heroes. It would be boring if they were all brave princes and princesses, wouldn't it?"

Keeping his joyful smile, the storyteller leaned back in his chair. "And what of you, sir? Do you have any good stories to tell me?"

Gen scoffed. "I'm afraid I'm as dull as they come. Nothing interesting has ever happened in my life."

The storyteller's eyes slowly glanced towards the sleeve where Gen had been concealing his hook. "I wouldn't say that, a good story can come from the most unlikely of places. You just have to know who to ask and where to look." He shook a finger. "One should never be fooled by appearances."

Gen casually withdrew his hook and tucked it underneath the table. "I thank you for the stories, but I must be heading home. My wife will worry if I'm not there by morning."

The storyteller groaned, rotating the kinks from his shoulders. "As must I. If I'm not there to feed my dog breakfast, he will not speak to me for two days."

Gen rose and pushed in his chair. "Your dog talks to you does he?"

"As clear as any man," the storyteller replied rising from his own chair. "And sometimes he doesn't know when to be quiet."

Gen chuckled. Clearly the man lived in his own stories. "That's a rare creature."

The storyteller shrugged. "Not really, I would say it's as common as having a king treat you to a chicken dinner."

Gen's smile vanished, and he could not speak. The old storyteller patted Gen's shoulder the way an uncle would to his nephew and hummed a tune as he left the tavern.