A/N: Starting a new story is literally the last thing I should be doing right now (don't even mention that I have to leave in literally six minutes and haven't even gotten dressed yet), but (1) I just downloaded 100 new orchestral pieces and (2) caught up in Homestuck.

And being the Ancestor trash I am, this is the unholy offspring.

Kill me now.

Alternian Nocturne No. 6 in A Minor for Piano and Violin, Op. 12, "Frosteye's Heart": I. Adagio cantabile.

Governor Frosteye was a mysterious troll, that much was certain, but little else. He was of the icedwellers, the pale lilacbloods, the white-haired ones. Tall, he was, and lean; always shoeless, never protected from the northern cold that didn't seem to harm him. Nearly all his days were spent in his ice palace, overseeing the frigid, barren territory where few lived besides him.

One day, however, Frosteye left the palace and traveled on foot to a city, accompanied by only his spears and a small amount of money. Then he spent a night in the marketplace, never once speaking, never purchasing — only watching.

He came upon an auction, where three lowbloods were being sold to bidders. Curious, he stayed to watch the first two leave the dais, enchained, to their new highblood masters. And as the auctioneer asked for offers on the last, Frosteye stood.

He used every last cent of the money he had with him, but the deal was settled and the siennablood was sold to Frosteye. She was young but plain-faced; healthy but defeated. She pulled ever-so-slightly at her chains as he led her away.

But once they arrived at his palace, he stopped, let her chain fall from his hands, and turned to her. She was shivering from the cold, so he took a blanket of furs from a chair and draped it over her shoulders.

"What is your name?" asked he of the young slave.

She didn't tell him. She only looked at him, refusing to say a word.

So, with equal silence, Frosteye reached out and unlocked her chains. He gave his slave a choice that day — she could leave whenever and wherever she wanted, and he would provide her with whatever she needed to make the journey and begin a new life. Or she could stay with him as a guest and a companion, free of charge or servitude.

Suspicious of a trap that might spring if she took his offer to leave, the young woman decided to stay. To test the truth to his offer, she devoted six days and six nights to her submission to him — at every opportunity stepping forward with the humility and perseverance of a slave to her master, offering to serve him in any way she could. Even as he protested, telling her that she was no longer a slave and didn't need to work for her life, she worked and served and exhausted her powers until she could barely stand.

So she began the second phase of her plan — she spent six days and six nights doing absolutely nothing. She stayed in the resting block Frosteye had built for her, curled up inside her recuperacoon. She did not speak to Frosteye, did not come when he requested her presence, did not even look at him. She took whatever food she wanted whenever she wanted, and when she used her powers of psychic melody, she used them only to please herself. And she expected punishment — even desired it. It would prove that she was right about Frosteye, that he was no different from any other deceptive highblooded slave owner. But punishment never came. Frosteye simply bowed his head and accepted her obstinance with kindness.

Finally the once-slave exhausted herself of nothing, and on the twelfth night she appeared before Frosteye in the clothes he had given her, holding the stringed violancer that had been her only possession when she had come. She played a song for him, and then fell at his feet in shame.

But Frosteye kept his word and helped his guest up to a seat at his table. He served her a meal and began to talk, not of work or slavery or castes — but of family, and pastimes, and love. He asked her questions, which at first she only barely answered, but as the night went on began to warm up. Frosteye's kindness was unmatched by any she'd ever felt and she sensed his sincerity — it was in everything he did, every word he spoke, every time he met her gaze.

Neither she nor Frosteye knew it, but that night was the beginning of a moirallegiance that would span for sweeps.

And neither of them knew it, but that night was the reason he would die.