Heavy is the Head that Wears the Solemn Crown

Fifteen - Prisoners of Ice, Silence, and Responsibility

Wilbur

A woman was sitting on a throne. Her hands were clasped against her lap, her fingers interlocked with her thumbs hiding behind her palms. Her legs were slanted towards the right. The tips of her toes reached the ground. She was leaned over slightly, her back arching over her lap. Her head was tilted downward to look at the staircase that separated the ballroom from the royal thrones. Her eyes were closed shut, and her lips weren't twisted in any specific shape. She looked like she had fallen asleep in her elaborate ball gown, a queen who had grown bored with the festivities laid out before her. A thick sheet of translucent ice covered her entire body, washing the features of her body and gown in a sickly pale blue light. She was a beautiful statue made from human flesh and magic that decorated the abandoned ballroom.

Wilbur kneeled down in front of the woman. He looked like a loyal knight making an oath to his sovereign. Although he was not a knight, he would kneel in front of her mother's cursed form to promise her a solution. He had yet to find one, and his search had been halted by the war, but his promise rang true no matter how many hours passed with her locked in an icy prison. Wilbur would not give up on finding the enchantress who did this or some spell that would reverse the effects of the magic. Once the war concluded, he would spend even more time devoted to rescuing the cursed queen.

Wilbur looked up at her face. He pressed the back of his fingers against her cheek. It was bitterly cold, but he refused to lower his hand. He didn't know if his mother was still alive, he didn't know if she could feel anything he did or hear anything he said, but he would continue to provide small luxuries in the hope that she would find some semblance of happiness. He couldn't do anything more than that even if he didn't know if there was any use to it. He was a poor king who could not save the dowager queen, a sorry excuse for a hero that could not save the maiden.

Samantha had been born to the Sung family. She was filled with liveliness and optimism. More than anything, Samantha loved the arts. She was never able to understand science or math, but she was a prodigy when it came to the arts. She had the grace of a sylph, the voice of a siren, and the art skill of a creator god. She eventually crossed paths with a Fae creature with large, ebony wings. The Fae are known for their hostility towards humans, but Samantha was able to keep her life by telling the Fae a story he had never heard before. To ensure her life, she told him a riddle without giving him the answer. The Fae kept her alive until the next time they met, hoping for the answer. While she did give it to him, she told him another story and an answerless riddle. He continued to return until the two of them had become friends. In exchange for her friendship and stories, the Fae bestowed upon Samantha a certain type of magic. It was certainly a weak one, but it allowed her to truly touch people's hearts with her performances. With her magic, she caught the eye of the Crown prince. Desperate to know the mysterious singer and dancer more, the Crown prince befriended Samantha and became her patron. After a while, the two fell in love. Even though she was only a count's daughter, Samantha was allowed to become the next queen alongside her husband. She birthed a child who loved music as much as she did, and she taught him how to play the piano, guitar, and sing. She was eventually consumed by a curse that froze her solid by an enchantress who wanted the king all to herself. The enchantress disappeared after the king shunned her affections, instead begging that the enchantress free his beloved.

No one could save Queen Samantha. No mage, potion, or magic item had any effect on the ice. She was well and truly locked away for eternity. Her husband had died trying to find a solution, and her son was feeling his sanity wane as he fought harder and harder to free her while dealing with Manberg.

"My king, please pardon the interruption. I have news that cannot wait," A voice spoke up, filling the silence of the ballroom as if it were nothing. And it truly wasn't. The ballroom was designed with acoustics in mind. It was meant to echo music and laughter in such a specific way that it was amplified without being overbearing. Wilbur had loved it as a child, but he found himself hating it now. The ballroom did not deserve noise. Just as the queen was trapped in ice, the ballroom should be trapped in silence. Wilbur wished that he could decree that no one was allowed to speak in the ballroom, but that would only further prove to his enemies that he was senile.