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In the wood, near but not too near the Lantern, drives a sledge, drawn by a reindeer under the whip of a Dwarf, and carrying a woman, of sorts. She is taller, and paler, and somehow - grander, more terrible, colder even than the deep winter through which she rides. The furs are decorative; she wears nothing over her ears, which, were she human, would spell frostbite given how long she has been on this ride.

The harness-bells jingle tinnily.
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There is a boy trudging through the wood.

He's wearing jeans and a thin white T-shirt and snow-soaked sneakers, and shivering appropriately. He doesn't look up when the sledge draws near.

He is too tall for a Dwarf, too small for a Giant, too young for an Incubus, too handsome for an Ogre - he is, in other words, a human.
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"Stop," calls the Queen, and the dwarf hauls on the harness, and the reindeer takes its rest, panting.

She looks him over, hard, calculating.

It is rather improbable that he be a human.

"And what, pray, are you?"
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The boy stops walking after a few steps.

He looks up at her, blinking to dislodge a flake of snow from his eyelashes.

He says, "Huh?"
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"What are you?" repeats the Queen, arching a brow.

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"Um... really cold?"

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She purses her lips. "I mean to say," she says, "that you do not look like a Dwarf -" she gestures at the dwarf - "nor an Ogre, nor a River-spirit, nor any of the other creatures I might normally find in surveying my realm - so - what are you?"

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"Human, last I checked," he says, wrapping his arms around his stomach and shivering.

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"Are you," says the Queen, smiling suddenly; it looks odd on her face, like an ice-sculpture of a fire. "Why don't you come up here and sit with me, and I will put my fur around you, and you will be more comfortable."

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"That sounds like a great idea," says the boy, with a wry little twist of a smile.

He climbs up into her sledge and sits down next to her.
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And she wraps him up in fur. Her own body hasn't warmed it at all, but it's still better than exposure to the wind, and presently his own escaping heat has it a bit better than that. "There you are. But of course that will not do all by itself -" She produces a bottle of some wicked-looking, thin liquid, pours a droplet onto the snow, and watches at it becomes a steaming mug of something with a thick head of froth. She gestures at the dwarf, and he hops up, picks up the mug, and offers it to the boy with a bow. "What is your name, dear child?"

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"I don't have one I'm especially attached to," he says, reaching for the mug and hugging it against his chest with his hands wrapped all the way around it. "What's yours?"

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"I am Jadis, Queen of Narnia, Chatelaine of Cair Paravel, Empress of the Lone Islands. Go on, you may drink it."

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"Gonna snuggle it first, 'f it's all the same to you," says the boy.

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"As you like," she says, and since he's not doing anything in particular with his face, she curls one cold finger under his chin, and tilts it up towards her for inspection, and smiles at him. "What do you like best to eat, dear nameless child?"

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"Jellybeans," he says promptly, grinning back at her.

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She drops another drop of her liquid into the snow, and presently it is a jar of jellybeans in every color, and the dwarf fetches it up for the boy with another bow.

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Now he has to drink his drink in order to get his hands on the jellybeans. So he does.

It warms him up magically, and that is exactly the right word because even his feet aren't cold anymore.

He cradles the empty mug in his lap and reaches for the jar.
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"You may have them all; they are for you," says Jadis magnanimously. "I should like to hear all there is to know about you."

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"I hate my dad and I like loud music, violence, and wearing girls' clothes," he suggests as a starting point.

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The queen laughs as though he has told a particularly clever joke. "Do you. Such diverse interests."

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He grins.

He eats a jelly bean.



He eats another one.
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"Tell me more, won't you?" entices Jadis.

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He shrugs.

"Like what?" he asks, between jellybeans three and four. He's still eating them one at a time, but he's picking up speed.
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"Have you any brothers, or sisters? Did anyone come to this place with you?" she asks, and one long-nailed hand adjusts his hair, scratching gently over his scalp.

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His hair is curly and brown and full of snow. He leans into her hand a little.

"Nah, it's just me."
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