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White Snow, Red Snow, Yellow Snow	By : JayDee Category: A through F > Chronicles of Narnia Views: 7919 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Chronicles of Narnia, nor any of the characters. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-White Snow, Red Snow, Yellow Snow
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There had been no contact with the Narnians in fifty years. Their trading ships had disappeared from the seas, and scouts sent across the desert reported that the land was gripped in a terrible winter that had seemingly destroyed the barbarians in their hovels. The considerable resources of Narnian gold and especially timber were well known, so the Tisroc (may he, etc.) ordered his eldest son, Prince Dashran, to lead an army north, subdue any survivors, and establish a Calormene colony.
The Prince took soldiers who were experienced at fighting rebels in the cold conditions of the western mountains, and even the labourers and camp followers were outfitted with warm clothing that would serve both for the desert nights and the cold northern forests. They made good progress into the borders of Narnia, and appeared to confirm the scouting reports; the southernmost towns established centuries before were ruined and near buried in snow drifts.
On the third day within Narnia’s borders the forest seemed to come alive around the Calormenes. Dashran realised they had marched into a trap as a huge hostile force surrounded them. He was momentarily stunned to silence with the revelation that the Narnians were not men, but all manner of hideous creatures. There were bull-headed beasts who slaughtered his soldiers as if they were beggars. Alongside came great wolves that knocked mounted men from their horses to be stabbed by cackling black haired dwarves. There were worse; viler creatures than Dashran had ever seen in the depths of fevered nightmares were ripping his soldiers apart.
He shouted orders to try and form the soldiers up into proper lines, as some of his captains did the same, but they were already being overrun. His own bodyguard began to fall around him. The Prince drew his fine scimitar, but had not the time to defend himself as the largest wolf leapt against him. He was knocked down into the snow. He felt the shocking cold even through his furs, but his vision was obscured by a great gout of arterial spray from the neck of one of his men. Dashran blinked and struggled as he was dragged through the packed snow to the edge of the slaughter.
There the Calormene Prince was stripped utterly by dark dwarves who held him against a tree and forced him to watch the destruction of his army. Though small, they were strong, and the group easily held the muscular prince. He gritted his teeth as the cold seeped painfully into his body from the all-surrounding snow. It seemed they had stripped him to destroy his dignity, but he wouldn’t give them the pleasure of shouting abuse like a street thug, nor pleading like a coward.
His noble heart twisted as he heard the screams of women and the strange screams of horses; the Narnian barbarians did not even spare the Army’s camp followers or valuable beasts. As the blood cleared from his eyes, he had no choice but to watch. It seemed to Dashran as if there was not a single foot of cursed Narnian snow that wasn’t splattered with good rich Calormene blood.
He saw for the first time the barbarian Queen. Dashran had led his army North believing the so-called White Witch to be a myth created to explain the weather. Instead, the old stories were all true. He guessed her taller than any man he’d witnessed, and her skin was truly as white as the unsullied snow, though her hair had the black character of volcanic rock.
There was a terrible beauty to this Narnian Queen, and Dashran realised he would have been happy to parade the barbarian as his wife. Once, she looked towards him, and he saw in her cold eyes cruelty and contempt in almost equal measure. He realised that he, for all his high station in Calormen, was worth less than the blood spattered snow to the Queen of this icy domain.
The cold seemed to work its way into Dashran’s bones. He assumed he would be killed soon, for few of his people still lived. He closed his eyes to make final prayers to Tash as the final scream abruptly ended. He could no longer tell if it came from horse throat or human. The dwarves raised their voices in mocking laughter, and some smashed handfuls of snow against the dusky skin of his chest. One degenerate grabbed his cold-shrivelled penis and tugged it roughly in a parody of self pleasure.
Prince Dashran winced as he was abused, but did not stop his prayer. He was truely pleased that his once lusty body did not react to the Dwarf’s rough abuse. As the final words of his prayers tumbled from his lips, something pressed next to the tree, next to his head. The dwarves withdrew their hands from his body, and he heard them stepping back. The Prince opened his eyes to see the Queen stood over him, with one foot lifted to the tree bark.
Dashran marvelled at the merciless beauty, as deadly as the cruel winter snow he lay in. She held a long wand in one hand, marred with steaming blood. Dashran expected the final blow. He dropped his eyes and saw she had hiked her skirts up to take aim at his face. Dashran failed to look away in time to avoid the shockingly warm stream of urine. The Queen caught him square between the eyes with her powerful flow, and the darkly yellow liquid soon washed down his chest and stained the snow. He gasped and spluttered as the Queen expressed her contempt by using him as her toilet.
The dwarves and other vermin applauded his degradation as the Queen finished, and lowered her leg. She turned from him without a word, and the merest flick of her wand. Dashran began to petrify. The deathly cold of the stone spread through his limbs, and torso, and finally filled his head with silent oblivion.

A/N: Story written for AFF forum weekly prompt 8 - Snow.
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White Snow, Red Snow, Yellow Snow