Lore.

Long ago, there was a queen who made a choice that changed the fate of her kingdom forever. The crown was left behind, the name forgotten, and the world moved on. Now she walks under a lighter title — Queenie — offering warmth, magic, and stories to those who find her. But some legends never stay buried.

INTROWe know Queenie as she is now. Her laughter, her smile, her open arms that welcome all walks of life to her small corner of the forest. We have seen her at her best and her worst, and we love her all the more for the magical chaos she embraces and encourages. We see the man beside her. Brits Grimm — her fierce protector, her light in the darkness, the one for whom Queenie would give everything, the love of her life. While we delight at watching them grow and spread joy throughout this small corner of the world, there seem to be some unanswered questions tangled within this happily ever after.Travelers pass through the doors of Queenie’s small shop often. They leave with all manner of potions, trinkets, spells, and stories and are always welcomed in with a, “Hello everybody,” and a warm smile. Thus far we have not questioned where Queenie has learned her vast array of magical abilities, or why she chooses to share them with us. Perhaps we have failed to wonder as we have watched her become who she is today.Queenie, she calls herself now. A name that is small, light, and bears no weight. This name is not the one she was given as she came into this world. No, that name is not one we speak of. There have been many a traveler that have speculated as to what her true name is, and have spoken legends about what this name may mean for the once grand kingdom to the south. But these are just legends and rumors — or so we tell ourselves.As much as the legends and rumors about Brits are pure fantasy… of course. His unusually colored hair and glowing eyes may lead one to believe that he is not as human as he appears. After all, does that truly matter when we know that the love he holds for Queenie is everlasting? But this love… There are those who say no love should ask for so much. That no devotion should weigh so heavily on the world around it.There are stories that Queenie never tells, even to those who ask. It is for this reason that we often do not dare to wonder what her story is. We watch her, we laugh with her, we spend time at her cozy little forest shop and forget about the fallen kingdom in the south. In doing so we fail to remember that no kingdom falls without first believing it is safe. This is that tale…

CHAPTER 1Queenie was born into a house heavy with memory. The halls of the castle she called home remembered kings long before they remembered her, and even as a child she learned to walk softly among their echoes. The kingdom her parents ruled was peaceful in those years—fields green, borders quiet, the old magic resting rather than roaring. Queenie felt it in the air, in the way the land seemed to breathe with her, as though it knew her name long before she did. She believed, as children often do, that such things were permanent. That crowns did not fall. That parents did not vanish. That the stories of loss belonged to the past and not to her.
There had been warnings, though no one called them that at the time: A black raven perching on the tallest tower, dogs howling into the night, a farmer’s crops failing when typically the farm was a top grain producer in the land. Queenie’s dreams were the only indication to her that anything might go wrong, and she couldn’t explain why she felt that way. Night after night she tossed and turned at images of her parents in great peril – while the scene was never the same, the message was clear. But what was she to do? She was a child, and no one took her seriously. Even if she did mention to someone the dreams she was having and the unnerving instinct that something was going to happen at most all they would do was pat her on the head and send her on her way. Princesses don’t have bad dreams. Princesses don’t leave their beds in the middle of the night. Princesses are not soothsayers. And so she kept it to herself – this feeling that made her want to look over her shoulder at the slightest sound. In the years that followed, Queenie would return to these nights often, wondering whether silence had been her first mistake—or merely the first proof that fate cannot be outrun.When the news finally came, it did not arrive with thunder or flame. It came quietly, carried in the eyes of those who could not bring themselves to meet hers. By the time Queenie understood what had been lost, the castle had already begun to feel larger, colder—its echoes no longer watching, but waiting. After her parents’ deaths and with no male heirs to the throne, Queenie inherited the kingdom of the Brittons. The massive throne loomed over her head as advisors, tutors, and nobles volleyed over her future and her favor – the multitude of opinions as heavy as the crown upon her head. While she endeavored to do her very best to rule the kingdom as she felt her parents might have she couldn’t help but notice the sneers as others disagreed with a decision she made, the not so subtle conversations throughout her court about how there was no possible way a Queen could rule as well as a king would have. In the months that followed, grief became routine, and routine became expectation. The emotions she felt while balancing the responsibilities of ruling a country and trying to receive her education overwhelmed her and no matter how hard she tried to shove the feelings down and grin and bear it, it was never enough. The power had to go somewhere.While Queenie was holding court one day, a faction of nobles openly challenged her right to the throne. They posited that a young woman could not properly rule this kingdom. She didn’t have the instincts, the education, or the intuition that she needed for them to pledge their fealty to her. Instead they proposed that one of them take over as regent until the Queen came of age or married, whichever happened first. When Queenie tried to respond to the men and tell them how ridiculous this proposal sounded her closest advisors began talking over her and negotiating and discussing which man should be regent. Queenie sank into the throne, the humiliation, fear, and absolute rage she felt toward every member of the court was all encompassing. This was how it had begun then, too—the helplessness. The way decisions were made without her, over her, as though she were already a ghost. What did they think they were doing? She was the rightful Queen of the Brittons, by blood and by divine design and they were just going to push her out like she was nothing? She no sooner had this thought than a rumbling began beneath her, accompanied by a deep, resonant, and thundering crack. As the noble men began to stumble back away from the throne, every banner in the room tore straight through the middle, as though a sudden and heavy wind had burst through the throne room. When the commotion stopped and every person but Queenie had come down off the dais, she stood up and looked down at her feet. A large crack had formed in the stone beneath the throne. She gave the nobles a calm but knowing look, and sat back in her throne.
The throne room emptied quickly after that. No one lingered. No one spoke.Queenie waited until the doors shut before her composure fractured. Her hands shook as she pressed them against the armrests, the same way she had pressed them against cold stone the day she learned the truth. Her parents had not been murdered. There had been no enemy blade, no treason, no grand betrayal. Just a hunt gone wrong. A storm that rose too fast. A horse that slipped on wet ground. Small things. Ordinary things. The kind that should not be allowed to take kings and queens. The crack in the stone beneath her feet was still there. Proof that whatever lived inside her did not disappear simply because she wished it to. It waited. It listened. It remembered. In the midst of her sorrow and remembrance a voice echoed through the throne room.
“You should not fear your power child.” The voice was gentle and encouraging and somewhat familiar. “For I can show you how to harness it for the betterment of yourself and your kingdom.” Queenie looked up at the Wizard approaching the dais, “Will you let me?”Queenie did not answer him at once. In the years that followed, she learned that magic was not a gift bestowed, but a force negotiated. The wizard did not teach her how to summon storms or split stone—those things came easily enough. What he taught her instead was how to stop. How to listen before the land answered. How to feel the pull of power without letting it take her under.
Her lessons were quiet, often frustrating, and rarely kind. She learned that magic born of emotion was the most dangerous kind, and that ruling a kingdom required mastering oneself before attempting to master anything else. There were failures. There were consequences. And there were nights when the crack beneath the throne felt less like a warning to others and more like a promise of things to come.As Queenie left her teenage years behind and her lessons dragged on, she found herself staring out the window of the east tower often; looking out at her kingdom and admiring the constant progress that she saw from her people. Directly outside this tower was the place that the knights often trained. She had never thought much of it until one day she saw him. He was tall, lean, and incredibly focused. More than the other knights seemed to be – as though he was putting his entire heart and soul into his training. She had never seen someone so dedicated and she was enthralled. She was content just watching him go by until she was caught leering by one of her tutors. She inquired of the tutor just what this man’s name was. The tutor wasn’t sure if this was the name his parents had given him or if it was a nickname given by the other knights but said that the knight was called Brits. Queenie asked that Brits be chosen as her escort during her next herb gathering trip and continued with her studies.
The day of the herb gathering trip came and Brits was there even earlier than she expected him to be. She was surprised at his punctuality, but grateful that this showed he could be depended on. The first trip was fairly routine, but as he became her partner on most every outing, the conversations became easier and the pretense of their stations began to melt away. Queenie began to feel this almost magnetic pull toward Brits that was like nothing she had ever felt before. She was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Queenie found that it was easier to talk to Brits than to any other person she had ever met. He made her feel simultaneously like the most important person on the planet, and his equal. Brits found that Queenie accepted him in a way that he had never felt before. He didn’t have to prove that he was worthy in her presence, she just treated him like an equal. They began to be each other’s confidants. They laughed together and talked about everything and nothing, and soon began a quiet courtship.After a year of courtship, Brits asked for Queenie’s hand in marriage, to which she answered in a most enthusiastic affirmative and Queenie felt the magical energy building between them. This feeling was one that she had never felt before, even when she first met Brits. It was as if the very land itself was blessing their union. As their lips met pink and blue sparks began to swirl around them releasing the energy that had been building in a beautiful show of colorful light. The sight was an absolute majesty to behold to those creatures in the forest that typically stay hidden and stories would be told of that moment for years to come.In the weeks that followed, Queenie found a priest that would keep their secret and would perform the ceremony. The joy that filled her heart as the date of their wedding approached and she found every opportunity to see Brits that she could. They were to be married in the forest to the north near the ancient standing stones. The day came and as Queenie walked down the makeshift aisle it was almost as if she was glowing. Brits wasn’t sure if he was just seeing things or if she was literally glowing, but he had never seen a sight so beautiful in his entire life. The ceremony was like any other, until they were pronounced man and wife. As they pulled away from their kiss and Queenie opened her eyes she saw Brits doubled for a moment. One version: him standing in his royal knight’s regalia, giving her a warm smile. The other… absent, almost ghostlike. Queenie shook her head and the vision was gone and she shook it off as nerves before covering it up with a spell to make beautiful white roses bloom as they walked back down the aisle. Queenie felt as though her life was finally complete and she could start her fairy tale ending.

CHAPTER 2Once the Wizard and her tutors had decided that daily lessons were no longer necessary, Queenie possessed all of the skills necessary to control her magic and do almost anything she wanted with it. She understood that magic is tied to the land and it will take just as much as it gives. The power she wielded and the position she held were not things to be taken lightly, and certainly didn’t ease her burdens or her responsibilities. But in spite of all of it, she was going to make her parents proud while she reigned.In the years that followed her training, Queenie ruled well. Too well, some would say. The kingdom steadied. The nobles learned caution. The land responded in kind. And yet, for all the balance she achieved, something remained unguarded. Power had been taught discipline, but the heart had been left unattended. It was in this quiet space—between mastery and longing—that fate, ever impatient, found its opening.Queenie’s advisors had brought to her attention rumors of contention from the kingdom to the west. They had been watching the Kingdom of the Brittons and its response to their young Queen quite closely since her rise to power and the balance and peace they had achieved was a threat to the west and they were considering a show of power and force to end it. After consulting her advisors as well as her husband all suggested that a gesture of peace was the best course of action since no action had been taken on Queenie’s kingdom thus far. Brits volunteered to be the envoy and bring a gift to the King to the west. He would take his best men with him and be gone no longer than a couple of weeks. Queenie reluctantly accepted his offer knowing that if there was anyone who would communicate her thoughts and intentions best, it was going to be Brits.The night before he left Queenie and Brits gave each other their kisses goodbye as Brits promised to do what he could to persuade the king and that he would be back before she even knew he was gone. As Queenie watched the party of men ride off at sunup she couldn’t shake the memory of the vision she had had at her wedding as an uneasy feeling settled over her. She had had this feeling before her parents died and as she mulled over the thought for days, dread began to set in. Something bad was going to happen, she just knew it. She was hardly present during any official meeting, and couldn’t even brew her potions right as the days passed; worry clouding her every thought.She confided this worry in the Wizard, hoping that if she didn’t make the same mistake as before, she could stop whatever was going to happen from happening. The Wizard listened without interrupting. When she finished, he nodded once, slowly.“You may be right,” he said.Queenie’s breath hitched.“But being right does not always mean there is something to be done,” he continued. “Some things simply happen. Not as punishment. Not as a warning. Just… because they do.”He met her eyes, steady and unflinching.“If this is one of those moments, then no spell, no message, no intervention will change its course.” Queenie felt then as if her worst fears were going to be realized and she was not going to let that happen, no matter what the old man said. A million thoughts of what may happen all rushed to her mind at once. What if a war started and she lost her kingdom? What if some curse were cast upon her and her people and the prosperity they had all worked so hard for was taken from them. What if she lost… no. She couldn’t allow herself to think about that. She immediately called for her quickest messenger and asked him to ride as fast as his horse’s legs could carry him to try to catch the envoy before they made it to the western kingdom. She knew that the chances of that happening were slim to none, but none of that mattered now. She needed her husband home. They could worry about an impending war later, but being away from him felt wrong and empty.As the days passed she found herself constantly pacing by the window where she first saw Brits and pondering the empty feeling. Why did she feel as though a piece of her soul was missing? Brits had gone on trips for days at a time before and she had never felt like this. She was sure she was just overreacting and that once the messenger returned Brits would be riding close behind on his black stallion. But no matter how many times she told herself this she still couldn’t shake the dread, the emptiness, the worry that consumed her. Sleep escaped her, food hardly seemed appealing, and she cancelled all official business until the envoy returned.One morning while making yet another attempt to craft a potion to help her sleep one of her ladies-in-waiting entered the study telling her that the messenger she had sent to intercept the envoy had returned. The lady-in-waiting opened her mouth to say something else but before she could Queenie was up and out the door almost running toward the entrance of the castle. She could almost cry with relief knowing that Brits had returned. She knew that there had been nothing to worry about. But when she entered the grand foyer she found only the messenger, his clothes torn and tattered, scratches covering his body, and a black eye. She demanded he tell her what happened. She didn’t mean to be rude or mean, but she was desperate to hear the answer.The messenger told her that when he had arrived it was too late. The slaughter of the envoy had already begun. The western king and a group of his knights had descended upon the small envoy and massacred them. The messenger said he had seen the king cutting off Brits’ head as he had arrived on the scene. The messenger stated that it was a miracle that he himself had escaped with his life as he too had been attacked. Queenie froze, and fell to the floor. It couldn’t be true. This can’t have happened. He couldn’t be dead… he was coming home. This had to be some sort of well crafted lie that the western kingdom had spun to break her. Brits couldn’t be gone. Yet as she looked up into the eyes of the messenger through her tears, she knew it to be true. With whatever words she could muster she dismissed the messenger to have his injuries attended to, and as soon as he was gone the grief overtook her. A thick black fog covered the grand foyer in moments and she felt her soul crumble. The tears and wails that followed could be heard throughout the kingdom. Some could have sworn it was the cries of a banshee, others the sound of heartbreak, but all across the kingdom agreed that it was cries of true agony.Queenie wasn’t sure how long she laid in that darkness. It could have been days or months, She cared not. She only knew that this couldn’t be the end. She could not lose the love of her life. She had magic, surely there was something that she could do to change this. Surely she could bring him back. Once she could pick herself up off the floor she dragged herself to her study. A book. A scroll. Something. There had to be something.

CHAPTER 3Queenie flipped through old books for what felt like days, skimmed scrolls that were practically falling apart for what felt like longer. Sleep was beginning to seem like a myth that only felt within reach when exhaustion had overtaken her very existence. She only ate when she knew it was necessary for survival. She searched her study up and down and found nothing. Not a hint of anything anywhere that could restore her lost love. But she wouldn’t give up there. Queenie knew the chances of something about a restoration spell or something being in the castle library were slim. The library is for every member of the castle, having a book about magic, myths, and legends there wouldn’t make any sense. But she was running out of options and decided to search there anyway.As she opened the enormous doors to one of her favorite rooms in the entire castle the weight of the task she had given herself pressed heavily on her shoulders. The library rose around her like a cathedral built of memory—four stories of shelves climbing toward the dark, each volume a fragment of rule, failure, devotion, and loss collected by generations who believed knowledge could outlast them. She had known the library was vast. Standing within it now, she hesitated. Hopelessness began to creep in and the tears she thought she had vacated her body of completely threatened to reemerge.Something snapped inside her then. As she walked further into the library and examined the shelves of knowledge, stories, and records that she had loved so much and had an overwhelming urge to set the whole place ablaze in a raging inferno. It was knowledge like this that had taught her that her kingdom was more important than the safety of the one person she had loved most in this world. It was stories like these that taught her that restraint and control of her power were the way to go. No. No more. Those lessons didn’t save Brits, but she would.Filled with a new fervor she started her search. She scanned the titles of what felt like every book on the first floor. And made note of anything that seemed hopeful. She sat at a table, summoned the books she had noted, and began reading. After the twenty-seventh book that held nothing but a vague mention of past restorations of lost things, she slammed the book shut and threw it across the room. There had to be something here, she knew it. But why did it elude her so? As she sat with her head in her hands and felt about ready to pull her hair out or set fire to something when she thought she heard something. She whipped her head around in the direction of the sound – she could have sworn she was the only one here. Everyone had been avoiding her for – she didn’t know how long. Time had lost all meaning. She shook her head and stood up to walk to the second floor to search there.As she ascended the stairs, she heard the same sound, only louder and more discernable. It wasn’t music. There was no melody to follow, no rhythm to count. It was layered and distant, like voices overlapping just out of reach of language. The sound pressed against her chest, settling there, vibrating through bone and breath alike. Queenie went still. The sound deepened. Her pulse quickened as realization crept in, cold and sharp: it was not filling the room. It was narrowing. Focusing. Waiting. Queenie couldn’t understand why, but she knew that it wasn’t on the second floor. She had to climb higher. Logic told her that she still needed to search the second floor, she hadn’t found her answer yet and going anywhere else before she had combed this floor was pointless, but she didn’t care. Something was calling to her and she was going to answer. She turned toward the stairs to the third floor, and as she placed her foot on the first step, the sound swelled—as if in approval.She climbed higher and higher until she was at the fourth and final floor of the library. The dust on this level was so thick, it was clear that not even the maids had deigned to climb this high to clean. As she turned toward the ever swelling sound, her body felt weightless. She hadn’t felt this way since the day she and Brits were wed, and it felt wonderful. It was like he had come home to her, and she could breathe again. She saw down the walkway a faint and unnaturally green glow. It felt warm and welcoming and all she wanted was to be engulfed in the light’s embrace. She came closer and closer to the light and soon discovered that it was coming from an old abandoned scroll. It seemed as if someone had been trying to hide it far far away in a place no one would ever look. But Queenie could not understand why someone would want to hide something so wonderful away. As she reached out to pick up the scroll the sound that had drawn her to it steadied. It felt right, comfortable, and safe. As she unfurled it and began to read, any hopelessness that had been within her faded away. This was it. She had found it. Whatever the cost, she was going to bring Brits back home.She rushed to her quarters as fast as her legs would take her. She gathered the objects the scroll had asked for and gathered the remaining herbs and other materials from her study. She was careful to avoid the Wizard’s watchful eye as she knew that he would likely attempt to talk her out of it and she couldn’t let that happen.The scroll instructed that the ritual needed to take place somewhere significant to the caster, so Queenie returned to the standing stones under cover of night, carrying what the scroll had asked of her and nothing more. There were no witnesses. There could not be. The ritual did not require precision — only presence. As she spoke the words written in a hand older than the moss on the stone, the air grew heavy, pressing low against the earth. Power surged through her and she began to emit that same green that the scroll had had. The ground beneath the stones shuddered. The space between them thinned.And then the earth opened.Brits rose where the ground had split, whole and unwhole all at once. His armor was dark with soil. In one hand he held his head, eyes open, and he said nothing. He looked dazed as though he couldn’t understand where he was or what was going on. But as their eyes met, his expression softened. There was a recognition there in his eyes, he knew it was his wife, and he gave her a gentle smile and put his head on back on his shoulders where it had once belonged, but it looked as if it could fall off at any moment.Queenie was in shock. She couldn’t believe it. She had done it. Hadn’t she? Brits was standing there in front of her. But he was different. He wasn’t truly himself, was he? His hair and eyes were that same green of the scroll instead of the soft brown she had come to know and love, and his eyes were glowing. And then there was the matter of his head not fitting on him quite right… But that didn’t matter now. Queenie fell to her knees, breath tearing from her chest. She had him. He was here. Whatever had been taken, whatever had been lost — this was enough. It had to be.Brits walked over to Queenie, his gait unsteady as he did so and offered his hand to her. She took it as the tears rolled down her face, she was sure that she had lost him forever and to have him back was as though a huge weight had been lifted from her. He held her while she sobbed into his cold and dirt covered chestplate. Once she had calmed, he gestured to his black stallion, who seemed to be made of black smoke or fog. He lifted her onto it and they rode back to the castle as the sun began to rise. There was no escaping the notice of every resident of the castle as they approached. The haunting steed, the man with the glowing eyes, and the Queen who looked as though she had seen a ghost.Neither of them said a word as the questions about what had transpired seemed to swirl around them. Queenie was exhausted and was unsure of whether Brits was even able to speak. As they entered her bed chamber she was overcome with exhaustion and fainted before she was even able to reach the bed itself. Brits carried her to the bed, kissed her forehead and began to take his armor off. As he bent down to remove his shoe, his head tumbled off his shoulders and onto the ground. He watched his own hands retrieve what had fallen, and though some instinct recoiled, he did not yet understand what had been taken from him and decided that that would be a question he would have for his wife later. Tonight was not the night to question anything further. But no matter how hard he tried, sleep would not come to him. An uneasy feeling settled over him as his instincts told him this was likely not going to be the most difficult thing that they would encounter in the near future.As the next days came and went, the two of them decided that likely the best course of action would be to proceed as if everything was normal. Any questions that were asked of them were answered with vague descriptions or half truths. To detail the events that were honestly still hazy to the two of them would be too complicated, and they still had the western kingdom looming over them. For a time, it seemed as though the land and the kingdom believed the lies and the half truths. The members of the court avoided looking too closely at the couple, they stopped asking questions, and moved on to what they believed were more pressing matters.
But as the months followed, Queenie was approached by many of her people reporting that their livelihoods were failing. The harvests had been yielding less crops than had been expected, the animals had been giving birth to their young, but only a small percentage were surviving, and some were convinced that their local water sources had been cursed with a sickness that was infecting their families. Even Brits was beginning to look weaker and more frail. He could hardly stand at her side while she held court without needing to leave to rest. Initially Queenie had tried to brush all of this off as nothing to worry about – these things happen from time to time. But even her magic wasn’t responding in the ways it typically did. It was as though it hesitated every time she called for it. Things were getting serious and she needed a solution. She looked to her advisors to tell her things that had worked in the past, but no one could find any records of anything like this happening in the history of the kingdom. Queenie couldn’t help but feel the panic and hopelessness creep over her and her people. There was no way to fix this… What had she done…The nobility were also starting to take notice and they demanded a meeting wherein the Queen would present to them her plan to help her people. They knew that that’s what she had begun her reign trying to do, but her absenteeism and the sudden unexpected return of the knight they had all believed was dead had shaken their faith in her. As Queenie was explaining her haphazardly drawn up plan with as much confidence as she could muster there was a loud crash behind her. She turned to see Brits on the floor, his head detached from his body. Before she could do anything a loud rumble sounded as the earth itself began to rumble and a crack formed beneath Brits, and the stone split wider by the moment, as though to reclaim what had once been buried. Queenie used every ounce of power she could muster to hold the earth shut, until finally the rumbling stopped. Brits opened his eyes and his body stumbled up and away from the crack, taking his head with him in his arms. The cacophony of terrified people was overwhelming. Queenie shouted over the crowd that they were all dismissed and led Brits away from them before a mob could be incited.That night as Brits slept, Queenie stood at her window and looked over her sleeping kingdom. She understood at last what the land had been asking of her. It hadn’t withdrawn in anger, it had withdrawn in refusal. It would not hold what did not belong to it, and if she insisted upon keeping Brits, then she could no longer insist upon keeping this. Her throne had been divinely given to her, and her reign had been blessed by nature. But magic takes just as much as it gives, and Queenie had taken too much. She ran her hands through her hair as the realization hit her. If she remained, the land would keep asking. And one day, she would not be strong enough to refuse it. So she chose before the land could choose for her.
She woke Brits gently and told him what the land had revealed. He listened without interruption. When she finished, he did not argue. He knew what the choice would cost her. He also knew she would make it anyway. He told her that wherever she went, he would follow. They gathered only what could be carried. No servants were summoned. No farewells were spoken. Before the moon had set, they were gone.The only evidence of their departure was the crown that had weighed so heavily on Queenie’s head, placed with care upon the throne she had chosen to leave behind.

CHAPTER 4This chapter isn't quite finished yet! When it is Queenie will post it here.