One year later...
Me: OK, bandit, what is going on with you?
bandit: Nothing...
Me: Dude. You always said red was a man's color because it's the color of blood.
bandit: So?
Me: So why is this room covered in blue?
bandit: ...Can you write a story with *whispers in my ear*
Me:... That what you want?
bandit: *nods*
Me: OK. Here goes:
Arendelle: After movie. Ship port.
Jordan steered the yacht tiredly into the port. His dark cloak and cowl covered the majority of his body, leaving his hands and lower part of his face visible to the human eye. His attire was splattered with dirt and blood. A small, now growing beard hugged his ears and mouth completely. His strong hands ceased his journey from Borlon to Arendelle. He set the boardwalk down from yacht to dock. Disembarking, Jordan thought about how he made it to safety. Short one passenger. While he brooded, no one noticed the small drops of fresh red blood that trailed after the hooded man.
Elsa stood next to her younger sister, Anna. She had wanted this for as long as she could remember. She stood in her blue ice dress, smiling. Arendelle would finally be open to the public. "Open the gates," she commanded. The orders were followed, and those who wanted to see the new monarch and her sister poured in, chattering, greeting the princesses with respect. Elsa smiled and waved, whereas Anna was more care-free and played with the children, to each their delight. Elsa occasionally peered to her sister, smiling. They were happy. Weselton had been embargoed, and Hans was deported back to the Southern Isles. What could go wrong?
Jordan followed the large throngs, not like he had much choice. He would have rather grieved than visited the kingdom he would use as refuge, but the masses wanted in, and Jordan was swimming to the edge of it all. He grimaced as he was tousled about by the crowd, the blood drips heavier and falling at a faster pace. Eventually, he was close to the edge, and the gates of Arendelle. Jordan realized that by the time he freed himself from the throngs of merchants, tourists, and who else, he would be in the city already. Maybe he could climb to the edge of the crowd, then break away once he was in the city. That was the best solution. As he walked, he remained oblivious to the dripping blood until a strange woman with blond hair and a mystical dress tried for him.
"Sir? Are you okay?" Her words were blurred, and Jordan's vision lost focus. He continued to walk.
"Sir?"
Jordan turned to the woman. She was very beautiful, with a slender figure and a flawless complexion. He opened his mouth to say, "I'm all right," but he couldn't make a sound. Rather, he stumbled and grabbed the woman's shoulders for support. His dirty hands left red marks on her pale, exposed skin. He slid down into the snow, shivering from the cold, and from something else. His cowl fell from his face, showing off a chiseled face, with messy, matted brown hair and blue eyes. He was exceptionally dirty. The woman gasped slightly when she saw his temple. It was deeply cut into with a weapon of some sort, with the skin ending in a jagged and random pattern. Blood trickled out of the gash, and the last thing Jordan heard was "...Guards!" Then, he went limp.
A/N: Eww! Descriptions! Hello again guys! How's it going? All right, first chapter! Nice! How was my suspenseful and mysterious writing? Hope you guys like the story so far! Now, to figure out what to do next... Bye!