"She was very beautiful and dainty, but made of ice… her eyes sparkled like two stars, but there was no rest or peace in them."
-Hans Christian Anderson, "The Snow Queen"
Prologue: Eatnemen Vuelie
The queen's breath billowed out in transparent puffs of mist as she slowly clambered through the snowy wood. A crease appeared between her brows as the exertion of her journey took its toll. Clutching her round belly as the babe inside kicked in protest at the unevenness of her weary footfalls, she stopped to lean back against a slim, silvery tree. Panting. Sweat trickled down her neck, seeping into the collar of the woolen dress despite the shivers that racked her thin frame. Her teeth chattered ceaselessly.
Why hadn't she worn her cloak? The worn fabric of her lavender gown and the thin outer robe clasped over her plump stomach did little to keep out the bitter cold. Her skirt was plastered to her legs where the snow had melted through and a slow, numbing burn was taking over her extremities.
"Foolish." She muttered under her breath. "Foolish, foolish girl."
She worried for her child, her precious, first born. She should have known better than to wander this far from the castle without her husband, especially this close to the infant's birth. Especially knowing what the townspeople said about a child born in winter. A nervous panic slithered across her chest.
She had to get back.
Brushing her loose, chocolate brown hair from her damp forehead she looked around, discouraged to see only an endless stretch forest cloaked in the deafening silence of night. Moonlight refracted off the millions of tiny crystals blanketing the ground, giving the earth an almost otherworldly glow. Wrapping her arms around her in a desperate attempt to warm herself, the queen was struck by a sudden feeling that she didn't quite belong here. That she trespassed in a realm that was not quite her own.
And that the grave infraction would have terrible consequences.
The chill that ran from the tip of her spine to her nearly numb toes had nothing to do with frigid wind swirling around, urging her to go while the guardians of this realm might still grant her amnesty. While there was still strength in her limbs to carry them both-
Snap!
A crack, the overloud breaking of a brittle twig caused her to clap a hand over her mouth before a startled scream escaped her lips. Adgar. Her thoughts flashed to that of her husband, far too young to become a widower. Her unborn daughter, too innocent to die without seeing the light of day. Heart scaling her throat, the queen whirled around, sure that she was about to be devoured by a snarling beast and-
Her eyes, as clear a blue as a midmorning sky off the fjord, widened in shock.
For what stood before her was not a fanged monster.
It was a girl.
A young, wisp of a girl, no more then eleven, with a solemn grey gaze and hair as black and sleek as a raven's wing. She stood no more than four paces away, garbed in only a sleeveless white gown, the lacy hem fluttering around her bare feet. Surrounded by a pool of gentle yellow light that bathed her creamy features in warmth. Like light streaming from Heaven, beckoning her closer.
For a moment, the queen could only stare at the bizarre apparition before her. At the glimmering sheen shining from the child's skin. At the spectrum of soft, muted colors spiraling around her, ever shifting and flickering. Confused, she wondered if the was an angel, a cherub. Was…was she dead? The thought didn't send the scrabbling fear she'd always imagined it would, all those years of sickness that left her body frail and unworthy to carry a child. Perhaps it was the warmth across her skin, or the calming presence from the glow. She only felt sadness for the baby inside of her.
But finally, when the girl said nothing, so unlike the narratives in her worn Bible where angels proudly proclaimed their messages, and there was no clap of thunder or pillars of fire and smoke, it dawned on her, and she was relieved.
"This isn't real." She said, almost to herself. "It's just a dream." But even as she said it, part of her knew she was wrong. Dreams never felt this real, this alive. No, this was something different.
The girl merely blinked. The color pulsed a tranquil shade of frosty periwinkle.
"Yes, Your Majesty Queen Idun." Her voice was as delicate as the clinking together of glass phials. Her tiny feet twisted and disappeared under the gauzy cloud of her dress as she dipped into a flawless curtsy. She rose slowly. "This is a dream. But that doesn't make it any less real. A dream is but a gateway to the mind. I have finally found you and your daughter."
Idun's eyebrows furrowed as she watched the child, placing her hand over her own. Her babe had settled into a contented slumber.
"Who are you?"
A faint smile passed the girl's lips. She lifted her chin, speaking with obvious pride. The light changed to a dusty rose.
"I am Sapphira, daughter of Heimdall and a Watcher of the Guardians of Asgard. I come bearing a message for you Queen Idun. The ancient prophecy is soon to come to pass."
Shaking her head in confusion, Idun shifted her weight, wincing as the baby put pressure on her tailbone.
"The ancient- no, it can't be. Forgive me, I don't understand. Who are the Guardians of Asgard?"
Sapphira stared at her in disbelief, as though she hadn't heard the queen correctly, her aura becoming a muddled brown.
"You mean you don't know? They warned me we had been reduced to little more than legend in your lands, but I never thought-" Her deep gray eyes wavered and she looked down to her feet and her dimming light, seeming to mourn for a brief moment, before she jerked her head up, a determined expression overtaking her fine features. Flickering around her were the gold and orange hues of a raging fire.
"I apologize, Your Majesty. I thought you would know. I must speak quickly then. The Vanir have been watching us closely and their descendants of Loki have obscured you for so long. You should be lucky your mind is so strong, or I would have never found you. Even so we have very little time until their Watchers find us." The fear that shone in Sapphira's bright eyes infected Idun and she stepped back, away from the silver tree, her boots crunching through the dense snow.
"What do you-?"
"There's no time to explain. What's important is that you know you carry a daughter of Skadi, Mistress of Winter and Lady of the Frost." A configuration of violent crimson erupted around Sapphira, stretching outward before the girl made a strange gesture and the lights once again tightened to her body. Her expression caused Idun to flinch. No child should ever where the face of a warrior, and yet, this little girl looked as if she'd led armies.
Pointing an accusing finger at Idun's protruding belly, Sapphira's eyes hardened briefly with angry and sorrow. She took a deep breath, seeming to steady herself, and then continued in her deceptively sweet voice. Black strands of aura snaked around her.
"Your child will born with the powers of ice and snow. She will be the most powerful sorceress born since Skadi herself walked this Earth. Her life will be fraught with heartache and peril. It is because of her that the prophecy will come to pass-"
"No! Not my daughter, I beg of you!"
Idun couldn't breathe. She wanted to scream at the girl, call her a liar, but something deep, deep within her heart knew that the girl spoke the truth.
God had failed her.
How could you?
The ancient prophecy circled through her head like crows swarming rotting carrion. Everyone knew the prophecy, from the most withered crone to the youngest child. They had been taught to fear it, to hunt down and destroy anything that lead to it. Thus was the terror of the Prophecy of Ragnorok. The lines swirled through her head from back when she and every other child her age had been required to know it by heart.
Princess born with the powers of Snow,
Sisters forsaken and kingdoms splinter,
Princess born with the power of Spinners,
Two kingdoms plunge to Eternal Winter.
One shall weave a way though the dark,
One shall bow to the Queen of Ice,
A ruler with a Frozen Heart,
Shall be your kingdom's sacrifice.
Tread carefully, oh lands of North!
Mother pass the tale to your daughter,
For if you forget and set Her free,
Your people will end in mindless slaughter.
Beware she born of Winter's breath,
But praise she born under the never night sky,
For Princess of the North shall never disown you,
But through Her dark art, your land will die.
But fear not, stand tall, you pure of heart,
Whose strength is found in the God of the Cross,
Fear not, stand tall, when Hellfire burns,
When the Prince breaks free; the world to spurn.
Fear not, stand tall, when the mirror splinters,
And Frigg's chosen champion is lost to winter,
Fear not, stand tall, when the Snow Queen strikes,
With fractured soul and heart of ice.
For in darkest hour,
In bleakest night,
When you're too weak to rise,
And too broken to fight,
When up is down and down is up,
And summer is winter eternally wrought,
When Asgard falls and Van'heim stands,
And chaos unleashed throughout your land,
When two Queens rise from bloodline split,
And the spark of rebellion is finally lit,
When the majyk of old has been awoken,
And the love of sisters is tried whole and unbroken,
Nine descendants, despite all odds,
Will rise up, and yet, of nine,
Eight will fall,
Unless, and only if,
You remember the price that He once gave,
And highest price one freely gives,
So darkness will die,
So light will live.
If past wrongs cannot be made right,
And Æsir fails at Vanir's game,
Then at the dawn of Frigg's eternal night,
One Princess shall perish to Snow or to Flame.
The fate of the world upon you lays,
The fate to heal,
Or the fate to raze.
Tears gathered in Idun's eyes, spilling over her cheeks. Her breathing became fast and hysterical. A soft cry burst from her mouth and she doubled over, a thin wail rising from her throat.
This couldn't be happening. It couldn't happen! All her fears, her waking terrors, her nightmares were coming true. They had been so, so careful. They had done everything right. Everything to make sure that their child wouldn't be born cursed with magic and sorcery like – Idun shook her head violently. She'd sworn never to speak, never to think her name again, as if that would make all the difference in the world.
And yet, her daughter, despite everything was to be born in the dead of winter.
A time where no child should ever be born.
Sinking to the ground, collapsing in the snow, she shoved a hand through her long hair, looking to the girl with wide, pleading eyes.
"There has to be another way." Her voice was barely a whisper, so soft and strained it fell into the frost-ridden air. "Please. My sweet child, she can't-" Idun choked on her words. "She can't be the one in the prophecy. She's supposed to be safe. They promised me she would be safe!
"He promised." She whimpered. "How could he do this to me?"
Her voice broke as she gave into quiet sobs, her vision blurring with hot tears that burned her frozen cheeks. When they cleared she saw the child had back away into the silver trees. Sapphira regarded her with a look of hopelessness, a look that should have been far too heavy for her youthful face to bear.
"I'm sorry Queen Idun." Her small voice could have held all the sweetness in the world, but to Idun it only resembled the earsplitting screech of an off-key violin. She sank deeper into the snow, pressing her frostbitten hands into her ears as Sapphira spoke. "Fate chooses its players but only once. It never makes a mistake and never takes back a choice. Every child of the Norns knows that."
"No." Idun moaned, weeping inconsolably. "No. Not my child. Anyone but my child-"
"Idun!?"A deep masculine voice was shouting somewhere beyond the glade. Her husband! He was coming to rescue her. He would make this right. He must! The queen gasped and looked up. Sapphira was gone and the forest had gone dark, as though the moon had been snuffed out like a candle.
The sky shattered.
The ground gave way beneath her.
She was falling.
Falling.
Falling.
"Idun! Please wake up. It's just a dream."
Her eyes snapped open to those of her husband's, pale and green and gentle and wide with concern. She felt his strong hands running down her shaking arms and brushing her hair from her face with light, tender gestures. Smoothing the knitted blanket over her lap and easing her back into the downy chair she'd chosen to take a nap in. Then careful, careful fingers caressed her pregnant belly as her husband pressed his lips to her temple, his long, dear, crooked nose tracing her cheek, now dry and rosy in the light of the fire's glow illuminating her study.
"What was it darling?" A look of fear suddenly flashed across his handsome face. "Is it the baby?" Idun stared at him, unable to speak. How could she tell him their daughter was the feared, wicked sorceress of the prophecy? After they'd gone to so many midwives and soothsayers who assured them that their charms would ensure the princess's safety. What more could they have done? How did a common mortal defy fate and destiny?
No, she couldn't tell him. No one could know. They would demand her death. She had to protect her. Despite what the prophecy said, she knew better. The child she carried was not a monster. She was good and kind and perfect. Her little joy.
Her little Elsa.
Forcing a hesitant smile to her lips, Idun took Adgar's hands, kissing each finger in turn.
"She is doing just fine." The queen said a moment later. "It was just like you said. Only a dream. A silly, meaningless dream."