Dark.
That was all she'd seen for days. Engulfed in a sea of blackness. There were no windows. No bed. No food. There was only silence, her dirt-covered face, and the weight of the manacles that were too small for her wrists and ankles, crushing her skin and bone, leaving the woman who's limbs were bound in a constant state of pain. She squirmed in the darkness, desperately trying to find a comfortable position to sleep, her large bed of tangled copper hair being her only pillow, and the gelid obsidian stones of the cell, her bed. She hadn't slept in days. Or at least she hadn't slept comfortably. Her back was numb from the cold floor and the pain of the pebbles that dug into her fair skin whenever she tried to lay down. She was now curled into a tight ball in the corner of the cell. She couldn't go far as her shackles had been fixed into the wall. She could barely move.
She leaned her head back against the frozen wall. The sensation told her it was winter. A time she despised. That meant fewer rations of the gloop they called soup. A commodity that she began to take a strange liking too, maybe because it was the only food she'd ever gotten, and it may be the only food she would ever get. Her fatigue took over, closing her eyes for her, urging her to sleep. To fall away. To wake up from the terrible dream she was living. A slave to a tyrant King bound in chains and confined by walls that seemed to collapse in on her every time she looked up at the blackness for too long.
Black was all she'd seen for years that she forgot what daylight looked like, but luckily, her reminder came.
Footsteps echoed through the halls. Steady yet urgent. Heavy yet graceful. Her ears perked up at the rattling of keys.
Keys. Her way out.
The footsteps stopped outside of her door, the small slit slid to the left, revealing a pair of fierce looking eyes while illuminating the woman's own pair of turquoise orbs. Then, the door opened, letting light flood into the room. The girl raised one of her shackled arms as water gathered on her eyes. She almost preferred the darkness to the sudden burst of sunlight. A shiver ran down her spine. Not only had the guard let in the light, but he'd let in the cold, winter air as well.
"Up." The guard commanded, walking over to the girl and hoisting her up by her armpit.
The key glinted of bronze in the light of the torches that lined the drab granite hallway. All she could do was stare at the key. Her escape.
Her escape.
The guard unlocked the manacles from the wall, and the girl took her chance and began to run, but not before the guard grabbed the back of her tattered shirt, threatening to choke her if she went any further than she already had. "Don't even think about it." He threatened, shaking his head as the girl still squirmed in his grasp. She wanted to get far, far away, but she'd have to wait a little bit longer. "I bet you're just dying to hear the King's judgment, aren't you?"
The words set the girl into a frenzy. "I-I want. To go. H-home!" She shouted, kicking the guard's shin and slamming her fists against his chest. Anything to try and get him off, but the guard didn't budge or make any movements other than a few winces.
"You're never going home." He hissed, landing a hard slap across the girl's face, forcing her to close her mouth. "You have nowhere left to go, anyway. Did you forget it was your own parents who brought you to this place?"
The girl seemed to shrink. She was hurt. Pained.
"No one wants a monster like you."
The guard attached another chain to the girl's manacles. The one around her neck that served as a leash. A function that had been promised to only be used when she was causing trouble or being a problem. That happened to be every time she was summoned to the throne room. The guard shoved her forward, causing the girl to stumble as she started her descent up the staircase lined with torches to light the way.
In the light, she could see the damage that had been done over time. Her bare feet were covered in blisters. Her legs scarred and uncleaned. Her shirt was in ruins. She'd had the same one on for years. A dreary shade of beige that was now a darker brown with stains of blood. Her blood. Blood that had remained since the day she'd been sent to the wretched place known as the castle. Her arms were bruised, especially at the wrists, which had turned a dark shade of purple from the pressure of the metal manacles. Small scratches lined her arms, and her hands were callous and rough. She brought a finger to her cheek where pain swam through her. A cut that still hadn't healed and was probably infected. She didn't need a mirror to know that her face looked terrible. Her face that had once been perfectly round was now skeletal from years of insufficient amounts of nutrition. Her skin that had once been golden from all her manual labor had now taken on an alabaster white.
While examining her physical shape, the girl had slowed down, forcing a tug from the chain held by the guard. "Hurry up." He ordered.
She obeyed, following in step with the guard. Her head turned every which way, looking for something. Anything. An escape, but there was nothing but dust and asbestos, but in the lightly lit stairway, her eyes caught sight of a door. A single lock reinforced with metal, and she smirked as she looked at the guards back.
The stairs fell away, revealing a large hallway leading to a pair of even larger double doors. The floors were shimmering, their lacquer freshly washed. Guards lined the sides of the hallway, neither one of them stupid enough to break post as the guard walked his prisoner closer toward the throne room. Banners hung from the wall, each insignia familiar to the guard and. Weselton's blue and silver, Arendelle's green a purple, Corona's purple and gold, and many more flags representing the ties. One large banner hung from the double doors themselves. A scarlet red shield with a silver sword inside the shield. The crest of the Southern Isles.
The doors opened with a creak, announcing the arrival of the guard and his prisoner. Upon the throne sat the King, a crown of platinum with scarlet red rubies. His clothing extravagant with a long scarlet red robe made of the finest velvet, and lined with eye-catching gold. and To his left and right sat his sons. Well, almost all of them sat. To the far right, one stood. The vibrancy of his red hair had been enhanced by the light above. All thirteen looked the same way. Their hair on their heads a strong contrast with their suits of white with red cravats lined with gold.
The guard sunk to one knee, bowing his head before his King. "King Casden," The guard addressed, lifting his chin to see his King in all his glory. "The prisoner as requested."
The King had his face slumped in the palm of his hand. "Captain Milo," The King started, rising to his feet as he started toward the guard, his velvet cape following behind him into an elaborate train. "I made you the captain of my guard for a reason. Are you aware of this fact?"
Milo's throat bobbed. "Yes, Sire. I'm fully aware."
King Casden now towered over Milo, looking down in utter disappointment. "And do you know why I made you the captain?"
The captain diverted his eyes, unable to withstand the overwhelming presence of the king. "No, Your Majesty. I can't say I do."
The King simply sighed. "I made you my captain because I believed that you could be responsible enough to bring me what I ask whenever I ask it."
Milo met the King's eyes, his confidence prominent. "And I have, Sire. I've brought you what you asked for."
The King snarled. "Then where is the prisoner?"
Milo's eyes went wide as he frantically looked behind him. The shackles had been destroyed. No. Burned. He scrambled for the chain, pulling it toward him. "This.. this is impossible. She was here! I swear it!" The guard protested. "I brought her here. I promise you I did."
Casden growled, his hand wrapping around Milo's throat. "If she isn't here now, then where. Is. She?" His grip on Milo's neck tightened.
"I... I don't know." Milo choked, his own fingers wrapping around the King's hand, begging for his grip to soften.
"Then find her," Casden demanded. "Or you know what I'll do to lovely Sylvia."
Milo's eyes went as wide as the ocean as Casden released his throat. Milo finally stood, a new look of determination on his face. "I need Nightbow and Jadethorn squads searching the upper levels! Boulderguard and Ironheart guards in the dungeon with me! The rest of you search every single corner of this castle and find that girl!"
Guards were scrambling to fulfill their orders. Milo along with a group of ten guards raced toward the dungeon. Milo himself was hoping that she hadn't gone far. She couldn't have gone far. Back into the dungeon, he went, armed with torches and swords, along with a few sharpshooters that brandished crossbows. Wherever she went, she wouldn't be able to go far.
"Search each cell!" Milo commanded, and the guards obeyed.
A minute passed. Then three. Then fifteen. Nothing still.
"Captain!" A guard shouted, beckoning Milo to his location.
"What did you find, soldier?" Milo asked, arms crossed against his chest.
"That's the thing, captain. We can't find her anywhere."
Milo cursed under his breath, taking another look at the shackles. The metal had been turned black, and still radiated with heat. He took another look around, and then started up the stairs again, defeat prominent in his features, until he stopped his climb short. His eyes had caught sight of a metal door. A door that had camouflaged itself too well in the darkness of the dungeon. Even the torches failed to shed light on the escape route. The guards in tow followed Milo with their eyes as he examined the door. The lock was on the ground. Burned. Just like the shackles.
"In here!" Milo shouted.
He threw open the door and began sprinting, torches lighting the straightforward path. To the docks. He realized. That was where this path led. His legs carried him as fast as he could. For his wife. For Sylvia.
Frozen air and blizzard like snow awaited them in the open air. Milo's eyes frantically searched the docks for anything. A sign. A body. He saw nothing. He trudged toward the edge of the dock, using his forearm as a shield from the snow. His breath visible in cold. As he stepped to the edge of the dock, his gaze focused on the frozen sea. A footprint was visible through the blizzard, but only one, and it was headed north. Milo let out a cry of fury and rage.
The prisoner had escaped.
/
Milo cursed himself as he went back to the throne room. The King was bound to be furious. Perhaps even beyond that. He reluctantly pushed open the doors to the massive room, his breath hitching as he spotted the King and his sons in the same positions. "Well?" King Casden asked, waiting for an answer.
MIlo simply shook his head. "She escaped, Sire." He admitted, his head now hung in shame.
Casden rose from his throne and paced toward Milo again. "I am the King of the Southern Isles," He started, "Do you know what my Kingdom stands for?"
Milo gulped as he knelt on one knee, his head cast downward. "Strength and power, Your Highness."
Casden nodded. "And do you know how much power that girl possesses? What kind of a threat she could be? The weapon she could become? The power she could give me and this Kingdom? What she could do if our enemies, Weselton and Vrecia, could do if they got their hands on her?"
Milo nodded solemnly again. "I do, Sire."
Casden snarled. "Then how could you let her go?!"
The King brought the palm of his hand toward Milo's cheek, sending a horrific slapping sound throughout the throne room. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty," Milo whispered. "It won't happen again."
Casden scoffed. "It better not." He hissed. "Now where did she run to?"
Milo gulped as he looked up at the King. "Arendelle." He mumbled. "She went to Arendelle."
/
The Arendelle castle was bustling. Hundreds of commoners and nobles alike gathered outside, waiting for their chance to meet the Princess. The King and Queen had been gone for weeks. An expedition to another Kingdom had forced them away, leaving their only child, Elsa, to hold the castle. They'd left her to her own devices on the day of asking. A day where the peasants came lining up and were offered one request. A request that the reigning monarch would do their best to fulfill. Elsa was looking particularly bored as she sat on the elegant throne that sat atop a dais, her eyes closed as her long platinum blonde hair fell into her eyes. Guards stood at her left and right, and her parent's most trusted adviser, Kai, standing by each person who entered the castle.
"Please, Your Majesty." Begged a woman who'd dropped to her knees in front of the platform. "My children are very sick, and the only cure we know of can be made here. In the castle. We just need one bottle of whatever it is. I'm begging you, Your Majesty. For my children."
Elsa's eyes opened as her icy blue orbs caressed the woman sharply, taking in every patch of dirt, every scratch, with one question going through her mind.
Was she worth it?
Arendelle had found itself in an economic crisis. Money was dropping. Sickness was rising. Any kind of antidote was valuable. Elsa had suddenly gone from getting everything she'd ever wanted to limiting herself. The sudden grip of the crisis was constricting, and it frustrated Elsa. It frustrated the King and Queen as well. But there was one difference between Elsa and her parents.
They were too nice.
Elsa had a desire for greatness. The Kingdom could thrive. The monarchy could thrive if her parents stopped giving their valuable money to the poor who would likely spend it and go back into debt again. It made no sense, and Elsa would rather avoid the possibility of poverty in whatever way she could. Selfish as it was, there were more important figures in the Kingdom than this woman's children.
"Do you think your situation is unique?" Elsa asked.
Kai winced at the princess's response, and the woman just stared, mortified.
"What...what do you mean, Your-"
"Do you think your situation is unique?" Elsa reinforced, straightening her back ever so slightly.
The woman opened her mouth to speak but ended up looking down in shame. "No..." She mumbled.
Elsa smirked slightly and relaxed in the throne. "I hope you didn't." The Princess spoke, not bothering to draw attention to the woman's white knuckles. "Your children are your concern, Miss. I have nothing that I can offer you."
The woman's jaw was clenched too tightly, as were her fists. "You... you witch." She hissed.
Elsa's eyes went wide.
"You selfish witch," The woman continued, "I hope they burn you at the stake."
Elsa's back straightened as she slowly rose up out of her throne. The guards next to her shrank in her presence, and Kai too took a few steps back, tugging at his collar as his throat bobbed. "What did you call me?" The Princess growled, her slender figure becoming even more defined as she stood. Her long royal purple cape settling behind her. Her golden tiara shined in the light of the room, and her platinum blonde hair draped over her left shoulder stood out against the turquoise and black bodice with dark floral patterns along the bottom of the skirt.
The woman had taken a few steps back, cowering beneath the overbearing presence of the Princess. Elsa smirked at her fear, almost seemingly enjoying it. "Go on," Elsa urged. "You can say it." The Princess held out a hand, a crystal blue snowflake materialized in her palm, illuminating her skin and her ice blue eyes that stared at the woman like a cat would a mouse.
The woman began to speak. "I...Your Majesty forgive me I-"
"I may be a witch," Elsa interrupted, "but I am the most powerful being in this Kingdom." She hissed, stepping off the platform and toward the woman. "How dare you threaten me in my own home."
The woman was paralyzed by fear and fear alone as Elsa drew closer, her lips quivering and her hands trembling.
"That's more like it." Elsa purred, bring her hand to the woman's chin and lifting it ever so slightly, her hands cold against the woman's skin. "Now what were you saying?"
The woman sank to her knees as Elsa released her chin. "Thank you for your time, Your Majesty." And the woman slowly rose from her knees and walked out of the throne room with her head down.
Elsa chuckled as she turned back to her throne, the looks of her advisers consisted of fear and shock. "Your Majesty," Kai spoke, "Was that not a bit harsh?"
Elsa snapped her head back to him, anger flickering in her eyes for a moment, but that anger faded away into a look of amusement. "Was her calling me a witch not harsh as well?" She retorted.
A guard by the throne mumbled. "She was kind of right."
Elsa raised a hand, causing a spike of pure ice to rise quickly toward the guard's neck. "Disrespect me again, Captain Cole, and I'll make sure that spike goes through your neck next time." The Princess threatened smoothly as she slumped back onto her throne, a smirk plastered on her face. "Close the gates." She said exasperatedly. "I'm tired of these disrespectful nobodies."
Kai gulped as he responded. "Your Majesty, we can't do that."
"And why can't you, Kai?" Elsa questioned, her eyes caressing her adviser's large body, looking for any kind of weakness.
"Because, Princess, this is an important day. The people wait all year for this day."
"Then they can wait another year."
"Bring the next one in!" Kai shouted, earning an eye roll from Elsa as she peered toward the door.
The confrontations lasted another three grueling hours. Hours that Elsa thought could have been much more productive doing something else since all of the things the commoners wanted were useless things, or things she couldn't, or didn't want to give them. By the end, Elsa was practically slumped over the throne.
"You said that was the last one, Right, Kai?" She asked, now glaring at her adviser who simply nodded.
"Yes, Your Majesty. That was the last one."
"Good." And Elsa jumped out of her throne. "I'll see you all tomorrow."
Kai bowed his head until his ears made his head snap toward the door. "Wait, Princess." He called.
"I said I'll see you all tomorrow." Elsa dismissed, reaching for the door that led out of the throne room.
"Princess Elsa!" Kai shouted.
Elsa turned around, ready to run someone through until she saw what Kai wanted her to see, and her eyes went wide.
A girl stood in the doorway, her hands and feet in shackles, her face scratched and bloody and dirty, her feet blistered and blue from the cold outside, her copper hair in tangles with a gray streak running down the right side of her two twin braids. Her skin was pale and her frame was skinny. Too skinny. She looked like she hadn't eaten in days. The snow in the girl's hair told Elsa that she'd been outside, but for how long? She didn't know.
"My god..." Elsa whispered.
"Please..." The girl whispered weakly, taking pained steps into the throne room, her pleading eyes locking with Elsa's icy blue orbs. "Please...help me..."
Elsa's mouth had gone agape as the girl took a few more steps inside.
"Please..." the girl whispered.
And the red head fell forward, unconscious before she hit the ground. Elsa ran urgently toward the fallen girl, taking her frail body into her arms. For someone who'd just been outside, the girl was unnaturally warm. Elsa wiped the wisps of hair that covered the girl's eyes out of her face, revealing freckles lightly dusted onto her pale skin. Her face seemed skeletal. Too malnourished. This girl needed help. Desperately. And so, the Princess granted her only request of the day.
"Get her a doctor!"
