The first thing General Laegjarn noticed was the cold, waking her from a dream of flame. Chills that didn't exist in Muspell wracked her body and, as drowsiness faded from her mind, she took stock of her situation. Her wrists and ankles were shackled to a wooden wall, arms above her head. She was wearing modest brown leathers, her armor and blade nowhere to be found. Beneath her feet, the grown seemed to rumble and quake, but not in a dangerous sense. Everything was controlled, rhythmic, and the quiet whinnies of a horse were barely audible in her right ear.
This was a carriage, one in which she was being held prisoner. Suddenly, memory flooded back.
She had been leading an attack on the forces of Askr, their so-called "Order of Heroes" having come to the aid of her homeland's rival nation, Nifl. She had made a miscalculation in strategy, and was caught in an ambush.
"General! A wind mage!"
The hoarse voice of her second-in-command was barely audible over the roaring blizzards of Nifl. Laegjarn held her enchanted sword ahead, trying to use the fog to cut a line of sight through the snowfall. A man was standing below, clad in blue robes unfamiliar to her, and surrounded by a striking green aura. As he shifted and thrust his arms, the mage conjured a tornado that shot forth at incredible speed, whirling towards one of her allied footmen. Laegjarn had no time to shout a warning before the wind collided with the man, its sheer force propelling him back and sending the soldier plummeting off the cliff.
"We're cornered!"
Her second was only becoming harder to hear, his voice tinged with panic and a hint of fear. Rare for a Muspell soldier, at least one that survived training.
"General? What are your orders?"
The princess whipped her head around, the snow watering her eyes and stinging her face. An even larger cliff face waited behind them. Even atop the wyverns she and her closest lieutenants rode, there was little chance they could gain the altitude needed to escape, and that would leave the ground force utterly trapped. There was only one option, loathe as the general was to admit it.
"Fly close to me! We cut through their ranks head-on!"
She was answered with a scream. Laegjarn's eyes widened as she watched the man next to her clutching at an arrow in his chest. A shot from this range, in a blizzard? The odds were incredible! It shouldn't have happened, but it had, and as her ally slumped motionless across his mount, Laegjarn knew she had to put her plan into action.
"For King Surtr!"
She gripped the reins of her wyvern and sent it into a forward dive, cutting through sheets of falling snow. The wind mage was coming closer into view, and she raised her weapon. Niu pulsed in the frozen air, the lingering fire magic the blade contained causing a faint red glow. She could make out his expression now, this wizard who had killed her comrade. He hadn't yet noticed her, too focused on an incantation to take note of the impending death descending. Laegjarn lashed out with Niu, only to meet sudden resistance. Metal clashed in the frozen air as a young man with a sword stood before her, his blue hair kept still in the blizzard by a golden tiara.
"You won't harm my friends! Surrender, Princess Laegjarn!"
A rare sense of frustration bubbled to the forefront, and Laegjarn's face contorted into a frown.
"You know my name, foreign hero. I would ask yours before we begin." She took a combative pose, the wyvern beneath her roaring in an attempt at intimidation.
The regal figure seemed unphased, simply frowning. "I am Marth. If this is how you want to do things...I suppose I have no other options."
"Take her down, Prince Marth!" The mage was shouting now, his back turned to her. "I'll make sure none of their reinforcements reach you." A tactical blunder. If Marth were to fall, she would have an easy kill next. Still, there was the prince to deal with.
"Very well, Marth. Come!"
Laegjarn swung her weapon in a diagonal arc, aiming for the noble's sword arm. To her surprise, he was quick on his feet, pivoting in the snow before returning the blow. His blade clinked harmlessly off her armor, but he was now in an advantageous position. She barely managed to slide Niu around in time to deflect his next strike, a thrust aimed for her knee. The blades clashed again, and sparks mixed with snow as the prince unleashed another flurry of blows. It took all she had to keep up, but Laegjarn was trained, and she tracked each movement of her opponent's sword. Sooner or later, he would tire, and she would strike at his neck.
"Got your back!"
The voice was unfamiliar, but Laegjarn had no time to focus on where it came from. A sudden, sharp pain exploded in the small of her back, and she stifled a scream as she arched backwards, feeling a small dagger come tumbling out of a slit in her armor. She realized too late that this was just the opportunity Marth had been looking for. The prince lifted his blade and twirled it in the air, coming down with the pommel on her chest. The Muspellian general wheezed as the air was knocked from her gut, and she was suddenly falling, the saddle slipping from beneath her as she collided with the frozen ground. The pain in her back was fading now, but it meant little. As her mount took off, fleeing without a rider, she could make out Niu lying on the snow far out of reach, and the figure of the prince standing over her, the tip of his sword resting on her chest. His outline only became blurrier as the blizzard seemed to get worse and worse, and it was only when everything started to dim that Laegjarn realized she had hit her head when she fell. Then, blackness.
Next, another slow rising. She was still there, in the snow, but Marth was gone. In his place stood a more familiar face.
"Princess Fjorm. You win."
There were more words, but she couldn't remember them now. She only recalled fading once more. And now, she was here. But where was here?
Laegjarn craned her neck to examine the surroundings. The carriage was decently sized, with a few tables and chairs, along with a wooden chest in the corner. Laegjarn closed her eyes and tried using a technique she had learned in training, subtracting a sense to enhance the others. The room smelled of old wood and a faint bit of meat. Someone had eaten here recently. She certainly didn't recall a meal. Not only that, but there was something odd to her right side. An irregular breath amongst the horses, less bestial, more...human.
Laegjarn turned slowly and saw a man standing in the corner. He wore a blue shawl and had a head of white hair. An eyepatch blocked the right side of his face, but his expression was unmistakable. There was malice on his face as he approached, brandishing a small knife.
"Rise and shine, Princess."
With impressive speed, the man crossed the rest of the room and stood before Laegjarn. He raised his weapon and slammed it into the wall, mere centimeters from her face. With a cruel smile, he glared into her eyes.
"I've got a few questions for you."