Foxglove

Queen of the Snow

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Foxglove is queen of the snowfolk living in the Whispering City. She is distrustful of regular dragons but tolerates those within the borders of the Whispering City. She has been known to demand 'outsiders' thrown out and blocked from returning if they harm her subjects, who are all as precious as her own hatchlings to her.


Warning! Some of Foxglove's lore might be disturbing. Please be careful as you read onwards.

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Snowglobe's first rise to Queen was marked by a sense of great duty. The child of a pair of travelling Snowfolk, she was determined to see her people united instead of wandering alone. Building her land in a great circle around a mountain, she planted the very trees which now surround and protect the Whispering City, hoping to defend it from invaders.

At the same time as her kingdom grew - a citizen here, a traveller there, each revealing themselves and swearing themselves to her ever-growing cause - a city sprung up, ferreted deep within the land. Their citizens were drifty - mysterious - and, without a doubt, dangerous.

She demanded, after their castle grew to reach the height of her trees, to be their equals; they had moved unannounced into her land, they had built unsightly buildings and carried in dragons of all types; how dare they stand on her land and call it their own?

The people of this strange new city would hear no wrong about their rulers. They granted them their days and nights, treated them as equals, and treasured each life under their care; how dare she judge them unfit to live on her land? As meeting after meeting ended in deadlock, she soon grew frustrated with her new 'neighbours'.

Commandeering her now formidable army, Foxglove, in a single night, ordered the land shut away from outsiders. A great blizzard began to bloom around the town; snow and ice pelted any who tried to escape, and indeed, any who tried to enter. Flying, with her envoy, to the heights of the castle, she landed before them in a brush of cold wind and cried;

"Not until we stand, equal and respected to the dragons you let into my home, will this snowstorm end!"

Finally believing the gravity of her belief, King Morpheus and Queen Phantomira, royals of the Whispering City, managed to rearrange their land in no more than three days. Now restored to equals of the new land they found themselves within, and with the power to defend their home - and, in turn, the Whispering City itself. Now once more in control of the defense of her people, Queen Foxglove turned her eye to other matters.

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Snowy was a demure Snowfolk, one of the many to stand persistently by her side, even through her mad climb to the top. She brought him closer, and soon, the pair had a clutch of three. Glowing with joy at the prospect of heirs, Foxglove worked herself into a frenzy, simply to distract herself from checking on her eggs every moment of every day. Even then, she could not stop herself from checking fondly on the three - each of them a possible heir to the kingdom she had so lovingly built, but more importantly, each of them a child to call her own.

However, only a day before the three were to hatch, she woke from her sleep in a clearing to find Snowy had left. She searched frantically for him, but no dragon or snowfolk had seen hide nor scale of him since he had wandered to their shared roost that night. Feeling a cold in her chest which could not be attributed to her nature, she brooded icily over what remained of the small family she had hoped to build - her eggs.

Her first was named Timon, a boy the spitting image of his father, save for his unusual eyes. Her second was a daughter, Snoweyes, who she privately rejoiced upon seeing; she had, among her children, an heiress, who could someday become Queen. Her final hatchling, Snowglobe, was a boy who bore the features of the Royal breed, one which she herself was a part.

The three grew up together, fiercely protected in the enclaves of her people. Timon, sweet and quiet, she could barely stand to look at, in those days where his demure nature reminded her so strongly of her lost consort. Snoweyes, bright-eyed and ever proud of her strength, often took her by surprise, launching flurries around with a fervor and energy which can only be found in the young and feisty. And, finally, her sweet Snowglobe, his young face peeking from behind his two siblings, would look at her with worship, and at the world around him with an unbidden curiosity, though his small frame prevented him from travelling far.

Yet more tragedy was to befall her small gathering of hatchlings, however. One eve, as she arrived home from a patrol, she found Snoweyes standing above her youngest brother, tears in her eyes.

"They took him away!" cried she, furious, halting Foxglove in her tracks. "Mother, you told me we were safe here! Where did they take him? Where are our guards?"

Eyes narrowing, Foxglove rose into the air with a single wing-beat, eyes scanning the trees. Weaving through the snow and branch, she soon landed upon a gathering of her soldiers, walking towards her remaining children. Landing among them, she glared at the traitorous signs; Timon's fur, downy and fresh, was among the eldest's jaw.

Screeching in fury, Foxglove summoned the great power which made her Queen and fought. When only one remained, she landed upon his chest and hissed into his ear.

"Where," she seethed, "is my Son?"

"We lost him," he finally choked, when her claws dug through his scales and into his neck. "ferret got away from me... all I got was a bit of fur..."

She applied pressure, waited, then walked away.

The next morn, Foxglove woke to a letter placed gently by her side. Grabbing it, she found it written in Snoweye's familiar scrawl.

"Mother, I have had enough. I will not stay here when my brother is elsewhere, tired and alone. I understand now that it was not your fault, nor Luta's, that we were undefended when they took Timon away, but I still blame myself for Timon not being here this morning. I'm going to get stronger, find Timon, and protect him. Do not wait for me."

Foxglove gripped the letter tightly, fighting not to release her claws. Quietly, almost too quietly to hear, Snowglobe trotted up behind her, head lowered as he watched the winds around them whirl.

"Mom?" He asked. He was not answered, but she dropped the letter and pulled him close, holding him tightly to her chest.

---

"Weeks after the princess's disappearance, a small package arrives, containing a single seeker orb and a parchment. The parchment said only that Janka is seeking the life she needs, and not to worry, for one day she will return home."

Foxglove's first attempt after the loss of her first two children came when, one eve, after a long day of tense words between herself and the rulers of the Kingdom which had nestled into her land, she found herself in the company of a curious soul. While she had initially believed her encounter with him harmless, she soon discovered that she was with egg; though it was only one, she was overjoyed - finally, she had hope for a child again, one that might lead her people.

Upon the birth of her daughter, Janka, there was much rejoicing in the secretive kingdom. Her private guard and closest clan-members danced and sang, weaving flurries which lasted throughout the night; in their homes, snowfolk packed into bars or popped open bottles of ice-wine to celebrate; envoys were sent to the Snowfolk who had wandered beyond their borders, reporting the birth of an heiress. While Janka was not of the Royal breed, she was nonetheless a Queen, and it was with joy that, for the first time in years, Foxglove joined in on the festivities.

However, her new fortune was not taken for granted, nor did it erase her paranoia. Furiously defensive of the sole hatchling that fate had blessed her with, Foxglove whipped her private guard into shape and ordered them in formation around her child. Between her duties, Foxglove met with her daughter in the quiet, yet heavily defended, enclave, teaching her dotingly about the people which surrounded her and the duty that she had been born for.

As Janka grew from a young and flailing hatchling to a young adolescent, she became curious about the outside world, and less interested in the lessons which Foxglove was determined to teach. Soon, her eyes began to drift from the page to the sky, and from the snow in her claws to the horizons just beyond her reach. Somewhere within those moments of absent-minded gazing, Foxglove - though she did not know it then - had lost her daughter entirely.

The day rose with a suddenness which bespoke of the turn of events. Shaken awake by one of her most loyal guards, Luta, Foxglove followed her wordlessly to the clearing, heart beating in her chest. Upon seeing the empty nest, she let out a wail which was heard by every snowfolk within a mile.

"I apologize, my Queen," Luta cried, bowing her head in shame. "I had been attending Snowglobe, and was not there to watch her. I will keep my eye trained ever for your daughter."

Foxglove nodded morosely, a cold wind beginning to blow violently around her, speaking of her emotion. It grew, and grew - and even as Luta frantically raced away from the empty clearing, Foxglove let out a sob and the storm brewing around her developed into an all-out blizzard, to last days upon days.

It was only when Luta, fighting through the blizzard to her Queen, laid a message in front of her that she was roused from her mourning.

Upon her reading the parchment, Foxglove's eyes softened. The blizzard became less furious, and, nodding silently to her chief soldier, Foxglove walked away, a Seeker Orb clutched tightly to her chest.

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