Chapter Text
The Arctic Empires' grand palace was a grand structure of snow, sliver, and gold, shimmering and towering high over its land from the highest peak of the highest mountain.
Not many folks dare approach unless they have business with the Emperor or his royal court there, and even then it is a difficult task to achieve.
It was a peaceful place of solitude and quiet when the time was right. It was too bad it couldn't always be that way, especially so with a child only four years old.
On top of that, the little prince had been having fitful nightmares and visions plaguing the little boy just as he falls asleep. There were days when getting the boy to even consider closing his eyes was a monumental task, and when he did sleep, he always woke screaming and crying in his father's arms until they could rock him back to sleep.
They had called upon the court's greatest spell casters, sorcerers, witches, and the magically gifted of all kinds. These dreams were not natural, they had all feared it to be the worst. The little boy so young was cursed with something from birth. Hardly any could manage a true cure for the boy’s ailments.
The crowned Prince Wilbur slept fitfully himself since the nightmares started, with how he would have to stay awake, just to be sure that his little boy would not have to be alone when he woke. The curse has been a part of his little boy's life since he'd learned to speak, ever since he'd been able to tell the people of his dreams. this was no coincidence. Wilbur had not truly known rest himself since then.
Today though, he would finally be able to soothe his racing mind. Finally, the Prince would find himself sleeping properly for the first time in days. Prior that day, a cloaked witch from a distant land had come by. The mysterious woman had come solely for the worrisome youngest prince, asking for no payment or recognition. They'd offered help to give a potion, something that would guarantee the boy some sleep, and an equally peaceful waking.
And it worked. The Emperor and his son were so overjoyed and grateful, even asked the woman for some potions to use themselves, and she graciously provided. They did not then see the malicious smirk, simply thinking her to be the generous sort. Their minds were too soft of insomnia to even think to ask the woman's name.
That day the entire royal palace would fall into the same deep sleep, leaving the room to the baby wide open and vulnerable.
The witch then was free to peruse the palace at her own pace, making her way to where she knew where the youngest prince was to be found. She slips through the doors, avoiding the sight of the guards and bustling servants, unaware of the shadow in their midst.
The baby sleeps on as she holds the little boy in her arms. She smiles. She did not think she would want him back.
That day the kingdom loses one of their princes, they lose their fox prince, and a father loses his son to a curse and to a witch.
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Fundy’s heard stories about the Emperor. How they ravage the lands, and how they plan to claim the whole land. A Palace of ice and frost, an immortal man and his sons, living on the highest snow-covered mountain, perched high and mighty above those lesser to them.
A man so powerful and power-hungry that he’d freeze over entire continents to have whatever they have to spare. Even the King of the Nether bowed his head to the Arctic Emperor.
Wherever his soldiers travel, the snow will follow, holing and trailing frost as they go.
Only Fundy’s home, small and insignificant was overlooked by these terrors, not even noteworthy enough to be spared a glance by the Arctic soldiers. Every year he would watch them pass through the land, and his mother would tell him to keep his head down and keep quiet. He'd grown to fear the snow, the first sight of winter making him a nervous wreck, turning every springtime, every green leaf and blossoming flower a time of joy and relief.
Even though they were hidden in the forest, still every year the soldiers would pass by, scour every other inch of teh forest and then leave, walking off to mingle among the villagers outside the forest. Year after year, her spells would glaze their eyes over, the would forget even the hint that her home was ever to be found in the forest. They never suspected a thing. Little L’Manberg was not a dangerous place, and the people were few and humble, there was absolutely nothing to note of this far off the Empire's borders.
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“What are they looking for?” The little fox asks his mother one late morning. The soldiers had come by, and quickly, Fundy had hidden just as mother asked. When they left, Fundy was quick to run to his mother's arms, and she hugged him tightly.
“Witches, my pet.” She says simply, bringing them back in front of the fireplace, combing her fingers through his tangles. Once more hidden from the world outside. Fundy liked it inside, it was warm here. Outside the snow raged on, but the charms and spells riddled about the cozy cottage held strong and true, sheltering them from the fury of the storm outside. Idly he wonders how the soldiers could even stand the frigid weather out there.
“Like you?” He asks.
“And you.” She smiles.
“I’m a witch?”
“Of course pet. Why do you think you have so many dreams? The big bad Emperor is jealous, and he wants to hear them.”
“But I’m not allowed to tell anyone else but you about the dreams, right?”
“That’s right. The world is an evil dark place, they hurt people like you and me, that’s why you can’t ever speak to anyone else ever, understand?”
“Yes, mama. Mama?”
“Yes, pet?”
“Do you have dreams?”
“No pet, you’re special, you’re the only one who has dreams like this. You’re the most precious thing ever.”
She pecks a kiss on his head right between his little fox ears, and he giggles.
That night, since Fundy’s been good, he even gets to have his medicine that night so he wouldn’t have to have another bad dream again. The medicine doesn’t taste nice, but it’s better than the sleep potion for when he’s been bad. Fundy doesn’t like having those dreams all the time, even if he knows what’s going to happen when he wakes up sometimes. Sometimes the dreams are scary.