Chapter Text
Vanessa dozed peacefully in her, appropriately named, queen sized bed, cuddling a wrinkled pillow. Her claws, sharp and long, tore into the thin case, though the fresh rips looked right at home next to hundreds of older ones. Beneath layers of shadowy mist, her jagged fangs curled into a smile that might have otherwise appeared innocent. Every so often she’d mumble somewhat incoherently, almost always mentioning something about a prince.
These days, the majority of her time was spent patrolling her domain. Usually, this meant reaching out with her magic, detecting anything that came into contact with her ice from the comfort of her own home. But, on occasion she’d build up the energy to go out and patrol in person— if she could even be called one. It was after these more tiring patrols that she chose to sleep.
As an undead, of course, the Queen did not actually require sleep. Yet, much like the other functions that were unnecessary for ghosts, such as eating and breathing, it was still possible. Besides, she had grown so delusional over the years that, despite noticing that she no longer required such functions, Vanessa had not yet realized she was dead. Not to mention, sleeping was the only way to avoid the headaches that constantly plagued her.
Understandably, the Queen despised any interruptions to her sleep.
The universe, as per usual, did not care.
An incredible BOOM rippled across the atmosphere, loud enough to be heard across the planet. It was followed by the faint whistle of something plummeting to the ground, and then— a blinding flash of light, and a deafening shatter. Vanessa was just beginning to stir from all the commotion when a crash caused her to tumble unceremoniously out of bed. The entire manor shuddered, shaking the floorboards and rattling the frosted-over windows.
“WHO DARES DISTURB MY SLUMBER?!” she shrieked, more out of habit than anything, as she tried to untangle herself from the mess of sheets and drapes that had been pulled off of the bed along with her. Her claws made the task particularly difficult, shredding the cloth in a way that only made it easier to get raveled up in, but eventually she managed it. Looking back at the pile of ruined blankets, Vanessa growled. New ones would certainly be required. Whatever had disturbed her was going to pay.
The Queen stalked out of her room, searching through her magic for the culprit. She felt immediately that something was… off. It was difficult to pinpoint, but something was missing, and she was certain it was related to the vile disturbance. And— was it just her, or was the howling of icy, deadly wind louder than usual?
She reached the bottom of the stairs with a final creak, only to stare, appalled, at what awaited her. A good chunk of the parlor wall had been blown to bits, along with half of the bar, which had splintered off into pieces indistinguishable from the remains of the wall. Thankfully, the rest of the furnishings were mostly intact, and she’d had the unknowing foresight to stack up the barstools in the corner of the room. When had she done that, again..? Last week… last month? Well, it didn’t really matter— there were more pressing things to attend to, such as the gaping crater in her expensive hardwood floor.
Or maybe the flurry of snowflakes that were invading her home at an alarming rate, accompanied by howling winds that were steadily making the mess of debris worse. Ugh. She’d need to calm them until she could get her wall repaired. A simple task on its own, but starting them back up would be significantly harder.
Ah well, couldn’t be helped. Closing her eyes, the Queen focused on dissipating her beloved snowstorm. Without it, her realm became eerily quiet. For the first time in— how long?— the Dome, a powerful barrier protecting her from the world outside, was actually visible from within the manor. She took a moment to admire her handiwork, mentally tracing the intricate patterns carved into otherwise smooth ice, glittering with a glassy sheen that indicated the sheer thickness of the wall, and ending in jagged spikes— wait.
Her eyes blew wide open, the mist that usually followed her placidly suddenly whipping about in an enraged whirlwind. Her barrier was in pieces. Large chunks that had once been part of the same slab now lay scattered on the ground, many of them already half buried in the snow. Decades of work, of focusing her magic into slowly building up the ice, wasted in pitiful fragments that would do her no good in protecting herself— protecting her kingdom. Now, it was hardly even a wall. How terribly common.
She supposed it was a good thing her dome hadn’t yet been finished during its untimely demise, considering the aftermath. There had only been a small hole at the very apex, the point where every side was meant to meet, that coincidentally stood directly overhead her manor. If it had been finished, surely she would have been crushed, and how anticlimactic would that have been?
Regardless, the “bright side” did little to quell her anger. Almost all of the magic and time she’d put into the dome was now gone, thrown away. Removing the leftover chunks might restore some, at least, but it wouldn’t be nearly the same. She’d have to fortify it even further, if she even deemed it worthwhile to recreate. To put it simply, this was a mess, and a waste of her time to boot.
Instantly, blame flickered to that insufferable spectre, who insisted he was the ruler of Subcon. Ha! What a joke. She was the Queen. Honestly, it was almost funny just how delusional he was! However, the more she thought about it, the less likely it seemed that even he would do such a thing.
First of all, Snapper— whatever his name was, she didn’t really care— always went out of his way to ensure his little “pranks” left some sort of calling card, a symbol to confirm that yes, he was the culprit. The most common ones were bright blue flames or indigo brambles, sometimes both if he really wanted to be annoying. From what she could tell, however, neither were present, nor the crudely spray painted version of his face that tended to signal one of his lackeys was responsible. Though much of the wreckage was charred, any fire that might’ve been there had obviously been snuffed out by her blizzard, indicating that it had by no means belonged to the ghost or was even magical in nature at all. She had quickly learned, thanks to a certain SOMEONE, that magical fire was basically immune to everything, with a few exceptions, and EXTREMELY ANNOYING to get rid of. While her own magic did fortunately help a lot with extinguishing these fires, it was ice based— not water based— and definitely couldn’t have completely put them out in the few minutes it took her to get downstairs.
The second point in his favor was the nature of the destruction itself. Scratcher always spent weeks, in some cases even months, planning out his next attack. They were consistently overly complex, but this served to, somehow, keep them unexpected, with just the right combination of annoying, infuriating, and trademark… him. He’d never resorted to straight-up destruction of property before. And yes, her beloved dome being shattered to bits was a big blow, but she’d been building it up for practically a millennia. If he’d wanted to throw a wrench in her plans, now was an odd time to do it. Why wouldn’t he have struck when she finally completed the dome? Don’t get her wrong, its destruction now had been horrifying, but it would’ve been infinitely more crushing if she’d just finished. Not to mention that convenient hole that had saved her and her house from being crushed by ice. The irony of such a death seemed right up Splasher’s alley. All in all, she mused, if he HAD blown this hole in her house and this WAS one of his pranks, it was actually pretty underwhelming. And oh, how he HATED being underwhelming.
But that begged the question: what had created the hole? The shadow was the only (oftentimes quite literal) thorn in her side, and she couldn’t think of a reason anyone else would possibly hold any resentment towards her. Heck, she didn’t even know why he hated her. He’d started it! She was certain that HE was entirely to blame for their long-term rivalry, something that as far as she was aware he’d began on a whim. And yet, although she’d at first chalked it up to a petty turf war, sometimes it seemed so much more personal and spiteful, at least to him.
Either way, she didn’t much care. What had she been thinking about? Ah yes, her aggressor… perhaps it was one of her subjects? No no, impossible. They would never do such a thing to their Queen! She was beloved by all! Not that she could blame them. She was the personification of beauty, kindness, and wisdom. Oh, and modesty, of course. These were only some of the many reasons her prince had fallen for her~
…hm. Shouldn’t he be home by n—
Her reminiscing was interrupted by a dreadful sound. It began as a low wail, then rose to a pitiful cry, and suddenly high-pitched shrieking, almost loud enough to rival her own! Startled, the Queen looked around for the source of the noise, wincing and raising her claws to cover the spot where her her ears would’ve been. Eventually, her eyes landed on the crater. Ah. Perhaps it would make sense to actually check what exactly it was that had hit her home in the first place.
Scuffling over to the hole, Vanessa peered into the rubble. Her jaw dropped for… what, the third time that day?
Inside lay a sobbing, squirming BABY, by some miraculous means unscathed even after apparently crashing into A HOUSE with enough force to create a hole. Next to it was a similarly undamaged purple top hat, decorated with a golden band just above its brim. The hat, strangely enough, was only barely dusted in snow, and was far too large to fit the baby.
She was unsure whether she should be... angry? At this tiny child? Or… sorry for it. Should she kill it? It was technically an intruder… but no, even if the thing had an oddly powerful soul for its age she wasn’t THAT heartless. Maybe she should… give it to someone? No, no, she couldn’t just casually hand off an infant to some stranger! But what did people even DO with babies?? She had some old parenting books around here somewhere, but it’d been so long…
Wait, who’s child even WAS this?! Did—did someone actually chuck a BABY at her house? It was swaddled tightly in some sort of bright yellow fabric (matching the nearby top hat, she noted), so it was impossible for the baby to have thrown itself. Probably.
“Well,” Vanessa thought aloud, “I DID always want a child. My prince and I were so excited to have a baby! Well, before-“ The sentence remained unfinished as she was struck by another one of her migraines. Growling, she clutched at her scalp, darting across the hallway to the kitchen. Where, where was it…? After an unbearable amount of time (five seconds, tops), she found it— a scarlet vial, shaped like a diamond, which was filled with some oily black liquid. After gulping down half of its contents, the Queen relaxed, the pain in her head subsiding, and re-corked the object. “Ugh, these headaches are getting worse... where was I? ‘Before’? Before what?” Frowning imperceptibly, she tried her best to recall what she had been thinking about. “Ah, yes! A child! Oh, my prince always wanted a daughter, although I was more partial to a son, heehee~” she rambled on in a sickly-sort-of-sweet tone. “Oh, it is too bad that...” momentarily, she furrowed a brow. “...we were never able to have one.” That is what happened, right? Of course, of course it was. The sad truth of it all. They had been the perfect pair, too! But they’d never been able to create an heir.
It was all his fault, of course, but she couldn’t help but be disappointed.
Another wail reminded her of the baby, and the Queen returned to the parlor to lift the thing and the hat into her icy arms. It only seemed to cry louder, but the Queen was too wrapped up in her thoughts to notice. “Yes, yes, it is such a good thing that I have so well preserved the nursery all these years~! … well, perhaps it is a tad dusty, but the child won’t mind, certainly. And of course, it can run a few errands for me as it grows, seeing as I’m going through all this trouble for it, and since it IS getting harder to leave the house these days... perhaps, even, considering it has such a promising soul, I can train it to defeat that bothersome ghost! Oh, and I can dress it up in such cute little outfits and—ah...” Just now realizing that she would inevitably have to check to see what gender the child was, and that there was really only one way to do just that, the Queen began sweating bullets (which, of course, quickly turned into shards of ice) and hurried to get upstairs.
She reached the nursery at impressive speed, practically dropping the thing inside the crib and not bothering to dust the snow off of its face. As it continued its awful sobbing, she turned and promptly left the room, shutting the door tightly. Somehow, its cries still managed to leak out into the hallway. Ugh. It couldn’t possibly expect her to tend to its every beck and call when there was so much work to do! This hat… it would need some examining. It was the most likely thing to contain some sort of clue as to the child’s origins… and even if it didn’t, there was a strange aura about it that, while not magical per se, was something to be investigated. Then she should prioritize repairing the house, cleaning up her ruined barrier, maybe finish that nap...