Elsa silently walks down the empty halls of the Palace. Everyone is attending or tending to the Banquet. She takes a long route to her room. Wanting to see something. She walks up to a painting of a hero.
"Arthur Northolm - The Dragon of the North." The painting reads on the frame in gold lettering.
A strong dark-haired man stands tall atop a hill. He holds a beautiful silver sword in front of him as he stares into the sunrise. Fire blows off of his shoulders.
The painting is only a few years old. Elsa's mother had it painted a year before she died.
Elsa stares at the painting.
His eyes are fiery. Literally fiery. He holds the sunrise in them. Perfect. Picture perfect.
Elsa, the queen of Arendelle, the most powerful woman on Earth stares at him and feels inadequate.
Elsa retreats into her room and looks at the painting of her father on his coronation day as she has so many times. She heads to her book shelf and looks amongst a collection of her favorite books.
She pulls out a relatively new book compared to her collection. A recent type of book. One documenting the adventures of the Dragon of the North.
"A warrior with a magic sword and a mastery over fire."
She imagines back to a night she spent reading it with her mother.
"Is that it! Is it here! Is it here?" A teen Elsa asks as her mother enters her room.
"Calm down, calm down. yes it is!" The queen says smiling. "A war journal documenting the Dragon of the North! The master of fire and fury!"
"Hehe we can skip the title, mother, I just want to know where he is! What he's been up to!" Elsa says excited and impatient.
"Okay. Let. Me. See... Ah! The war effort has improved in the favor of the civilized this year."
"That's good! Arthur has fought long and hard!" Elsa forgets to contain herself.
"Ahem 'Today started like any other. We woke and received orders from the King through our captain. We were to push deeper into the heart of Barbarian territory. Happenings in the southern frontline have put the barbarians on the defensive. It was our time to push. We prepared ourselves when a stranger arrived at the camp. He was escorted by the king's men. A boy! One in an extravagant uniform and a king's coat.' The queen smiled as she read.
'He rode like a man with a great silver sword at his hip. Needless to say the men had some qualms about bringing a young boy into battle. Without saying anything he silenced our fears; he pointed to a distant branch on a tree outside our camp. He waited until we had all seen it. We stared at the branch and the boy confused as to what his intentions were when a shot of flame left his hand and sliced the thick branch clean off the trunk! We were speechless.
Several of the men whispered that he was the legendary Dragon of the North! The reason we were winning this war! The qualms of the men turned to a fiery morale!
We danced and ate with the boy and he told us about himself. As if a 14 year old soldier was ridiculous enough; his brother was a 13 year old pirate captain!"
"His brother Karthus!" Elsa interjects.
"That's right my dear!" The queen smiles.
"He inspires people everywhere he goes, doesn't he.." Elsa said looking at small drawings of the Dragon that came with the book.
"Arthur? Indeed he does, he is a remarkable sort of boy isn't he?"
Elsa nods. She runs her fingers along the sketches of the Dragon's face. His eyes were adorned in gold film so they would shine.
Her mother continues reading the letters. "Here we go! Ooh a soldier from Arendelle writes this one! ... Ahem!
'Today I have seen two remarkable things. A boy fight like a master in fencing and the Dragon of the North himself. And the two are one! He is an odd sort of boy. Not being a boy at all but a man in a smaller shell. He battles viciously and the fires of hell themselves obey his whims and commands.
The barbarians we war against run in terror at the sight of him... The bravest and most vicious of their number stand to fight him. But their viciousness serves them little against his raw power.
During a battle in which I accompanied him, the Dragon followed a Barbarian Warmonger into a large longhouse. A lodge most likely. The barbarian fought wildly with him and sliced the dragon across the right side of his head. Only a scar would form it was a shallow cut. The Dragon's power burnt down the lodge while they were still fighting. The lodge crumbled as it lost its strength. It toppled down on the head's of the warmonger and the boy. Flaming wood rained on them. Our men were able to escape the lodge before it fell flat into a burning heap of wood, but unfortunately we could me find our hero. We waited impatiently for the fires to die down. We had to rescue the Dragon from this burning wooden coffin but the fires refused to subside. We waited minutes but they felt like hours. A man shouted when he saw movement in the burning wreckage. The boy. He had dug his way out of the wreckage. He was cut badly and was bleeding into his hands. The flames hurt as they brushed against his skin but did not cause him harm. He emerged from the flames like a Phoenix and rejoined the battalion. Only after he had left did the flames of the burning lodge feign and die. He gained a great deal of scars that day. But an even greater deal of respect. The boy was a living legend. We will win this war because of him."
The queen reads several letters occasionally putting on a voice just to make Elsa giggle. She cringed at the ones where he got hurt, which was a good many of them. He would be hurt but never struck down. He would always overcome.
"You know, Elsa. They say the Dragon is reported to be about your age. Who knows. Maybe one day he will come to Arendelle! And-"
"And teach me to master my ice?" Elsa interrupts.
"Perhaps. Perhaps he would even... marry you!" The queen says teasing.
"No! Gross, mother! Men of war are brutes and swine!" Elsa says.
"Swine! Dear Lord, Elsa who taught you that word!" She jokes.
"You did, mama!" Elsa giggles.
"Oh right!" She winks, "Just think. He would be so decorated. And once taught some manners. He could melt what you freeze. So you can play with Anna again... And..."
"And things could be like they were..." She toyed with the beautiful idea.
She missed Anna. It killed her when Anna would knock wanting her to come play. She loved Anna and she wanted nothing more than to play with her sister. Her mind fell into memories. Playing Im the grand hall, Anna's laugh.
The memory turned sour when she remembered the accident. The ice hitting Anna's head. Anna being ice cold and lifeless.
"No... No mother. I would... I would just hurt her again... And I'm sure I would find a way to hurt him..." Elsa says shyly.
"You can't truly believe that Elsa. You need to have some kind of hope..." They sit silently for a moment. "So do you want to read anymore? Or?" The queen asks.
"No it's okay, mother... I'm tired. I think that's enough for today..."
"Okay my darling. I love you!"
"I love you too mama"
Elsa returns to the present and wipes away a tear. She begins paging through the book.
It is a clear night on the mountain tops outside Arendelle. The moonlight reflects off the snow and the whole night is blue. A lone figure wanders over the ice blue mountains. A scruffy man.
He wears a long coat and a tattered uniform underneath. He has scars on his hands and face. At his hip he carries a sword. He removes it from his hip and holds it up in front of him.
"Gigas?" His breath visible in the thin mountain air, almost like smoke.
"My power is feigning. But It will hold for a time longer. Where are we going?"
"I have heard once of a place abundant in magic; Arendelle. They have healers."
His burning eyes survey the land ahead of him.
"I will take you there. It is my hope that they can help us both. I must pay a visit to their queen." He smiles a little.
"Your brother will pursue you into that land. Make them aware of your presence. Turn them on you." The sword says back.
"Then they will burn, Gigas." The man's fiery orange eyes light his way.
He places the sword back on his hip and continues through the snow. The snow behind him melts away.