Chapter 2: Shadows Fall (part 1)
After the Daughters fell to Earth, it was as if the main pillars of the Mother's Realm had been removed. First the stars began to flicker, even though many had just re-gained their place in the sky. The snows had stopped falling but the land remained cold and barren.
Even the Mother herself could feel the subtle but powerful changes such an absence was inflicting. Her hair had lost some of its shine, her voice some of its luster. Her garden still thrived but needed more than just her usual careful tending. Weeds snuck in around the beds, lured by the abundance of magic that she had to pour into her once effortless garden.
Unrest grew among the citizens when the seasons became unpredictable. Without her children to guide the cycle, nothing was certain anymore. The seas rose indiscriminately, frosts came in the summer, blizzards fell in the spring and melted the next day. Crops died, people fell sick, the air grew hazy and heavy. There was nowhere to run to escape the turmoil, for the Great Tree was dead and scattered to the winds.
The people cried to the Mother, begging for her to do something.
But what could she do? Her heart was heavy with sorrow, so much so that she could not cast her Grace about her own citizens.
With nothing to protect them, He found his way inside at last.
It spread like a curse, threatening the Mother and all who called her Realm home. There was nothing strong enough to hold it back and it crept readily into the crevasses of all being's hearts, tearing them apart from the inside out.
Tensions flared, anger mounted, war simmered under the surface, waiting to erupt.
When the 4 brightest lights fade, what is left to hold the Darkness at bay?
-From the writings of Sophie, the great Fire Goddess incarnate, Kingdom of Arendelle, Mid-Winter, 1821
Somewhere in the mountains, Autumn, 1814
Hans awoke to the smell of orchids. He opened his eyes slowly, smiling at the thought that Scara had awoken before him again. It was always pleasant to wake up with the smell of fresh flowers surrounding him.
He rose slowly, tussling his unkempt hair into place and stretching languidly. His feet flexed in the thick soil that coated the floor of their room.
His side of the room was decked in fragile, dying plants and the heady scents of fall. Dried leaves clung to the walls and cured herbs hung from his ceiling. His bed itself was mostly a mattress of soil that curled up into a thick oak frame hardened by age. Scara had grown it for him and he had aged it himself.
"Scara?" He called as he pulled on the black tunic laced with brilliant reds, oranges, and browns that he wore more often than not these days.
His companion did not answer. But she was definitely awake. All of her flowers were open, spilling their airy odors into their shared room. Opposite his side of the room was Scara's bed, decked in every shade of green imaginable and dotted with millions of colors. Her curtains were elaborate mats of flowers that closed as the sun fell upon them and bloomed at night to block out light. Her whole bed was latticed with vines and several dragonflies and bees hummed about her flowers. Halfway between her bed and his, an undulating line in the soil separated the living from the dead; marked with half-bloomed flowers and the decomposing bodies of insects.
Their room was an enormous cycle: his side the end of the natural path of life, Scara's the beginning. Their creations and styles bled into each other, so oftentimes not even they could tell where one began and the other ended.
One of the bees lazily drifted towards him across the room.
"Careful…" Hans warned it, drawing back slightly. But not for fear of himself. The tiny insect ghosted over his bare hand, not quite touching him but making goosebumps on his flesh. But after several seconds, the bee seemed to sense the aura of the skin under it and it hovered away, just as slowly as it had come.
Hans breathed a sigh of relief as the tiny bee flew away, unharmed. Being here gave him the first sense of pure balance and peace he'd ever felt since his powers had begun leaking out of him.
Formerly the youngest of thirteen princes, Hans of the Southern Isles had suffered under the daily torment of not only his family, but the unyielding crying of the ancient spirit of Autumn locked in his mind. After a visit to Arendelle had failed to give him the freedom and control he wanted, a single rebuke from his father had been enough to send the dormant spirit within him into an emotional rage. He'd spiraled out of control, mad with power and twisted from abandonment. He'd done terrible things…
The presence in his soul shuddered at the memory and a bush of huckleberries next to him wilted.
"Well," Hans commented wryly. "I see berries are off the breakfast menu…"
My apologies… The voice in his head conceded. Those memories are still rather…raw for me.
"For me as well." Hans admitted. He laid his hand upon the bush and it wilted away entirely, decomposing into fresh soil. Less than a year ago, such an action would have disgusted and saddened him. But now he saw it as a mercy, as an important piece of the cycle he had been chosen for.
"Do you know where Scara went?" He asked the spirit. He could have limited the conversation to his thoughts but it felt good to say it out loud. "She can give us some food."
Can you not see her?
Hans glanced around. "What are you talking about?" No one was there.
Oh no, my apologies again…I keep forgetting which hosts I've taught this power to…
Hans narrowed his eyes at the huge elm tree on his side of the room. Its leaves turned a deep, beautiful purple. "I'm the only male host you've ever had…" He reminded her sharply. Sometimes it was endearing that Død could be so forgetful. Other times, Hans wondered if the ancient goddess was just toying with him in retribution for the years they had clashed.
Oh hush. The spirit chided him, incomparably reminding him of his mother. I'm going to teach you something new.
Hans felt a tickle of power run along the underside of his skin. He shivered in delight.
"Wait, will this kill anything around me?" he demanded, tamping down his own pleasure in concern for the room around them.
This will not leave your skin. Død assured him. Now, my hands…like we've practiced.
Closing his eyes, Hans was met with the sight of his goddess: Død, the Goddess of Death and Autumn. She was a tall, curvy figure, with earthy skin and copper hair. Her form was changing constantly: her skin withering, hair growing back into her skull and out again, mushrooms of all colors dotting her body, unnamed scents wafting from her and dark secrets swirling behind stormy grey eyes…
Once it had pained him to behold her like this. Now he just let her be, accepting that some of her mysteries would never be known, even to him. The spirit reached for him and Hans placed his right hand in hers. She felt like the end of suffering. It relaxed him entirely.
Their minds as one, Død reached up and gently slid her fingers into his eyes. It didn't hurt, it merely felt as if she were anointing him internally. Hans let her power flow into him, the tingling under his skin wriggling upward towards the place she touched. It amazed him how quickly they had come to trust each other after everything. But submitting to her power just felt right. And she gave him freedom to have some private thoughts from her and never moved his body without permission.
There.
Hans opened his eyes, blinking as they watered. Slowly, his vision stabilized.
"What am I looking at?"
A misty green patch lay ahead of him, shimmering and inconsistent. He blinked and it was gone. But when he blinked again, it returned.
"Død?" Hans asked her, blinking until the path appeared again. "what is this?"
Follow the living. The spirit replied.
Straining his eyes to keep the mist in sight, Hans followed what he saw.
His bare feet padded the stone hallways, echoing absently into the rafters. But the cool stone underneath his soles didn't bother him. He had a certain immunity to cold, up to a point.
The ephemeral, floral-smelling pathway led him down the stairs and across the entrance hall, passing between the library and the entrance to the lower gardens and further into the bowels of the temple. Hans knew the route well but he had to keep stopping and blinking until the path reappeared.
It had been almost a year since the Battle of the Seasons; since he and Scara had returned to these isolated halls of the Temple of the Mother. His first time here, he'd been a prisoner because of his destructive powers. But Scara had reached him across a seemingly endless void and never given up on him, even with her life in the balance. While they had been stuck in Arendelle the previous winter (watching Anna's pregnancy progress and Anna steely watching them) they had built a bridge of support and understanding in a slow, steady manner. But when the snows melted, they had both seen the time as right to return to isolation in the Temple.
Now, it felt like home.
Still pursuing the fragrant green clouds, Hans crossed into the portion of the temple that he and Scara used for preparing food. As he entered, he heard a familiar voice humming up ahead. Blinking again, he let the haze fade from his vision. He had a feeling he wouldn't need it again.
"Morning Scara." He called as he rounded the corner.
He was greeted with a sight that never failed to warm his heart. The young girl wheeled to face him, seeming unsurprised by his appearance. Hans was sure she could sense him more than he could sense her.
Scara was dancing around their table, humming to herself and letting her long blonde hair brush along the table. Her powers were waning as the autumn set in but that never seemed to dampen her spirit.
"Morning!" Scara greeted him, placing an overflowing bowl of fruit on their table. How she found room for it, Hans had no idea.
Hans felt a slight nudge in his mind and opened up the connection between himself and the Goddess of Death. "Hello my sister." Død said through his mouth. As their voices merged, it produced a timbre that wasn't quite female but was too high-pitched to be a male voice.
Scara bowed her head slightly and when she spoke, Livet's airy voice issued from her lips. "Good morning my twin. Good rest?" Her green eyes glowed dazzlingly as Livet spoke through her.
"Indeed. Although Hans keeps having odd dreams..."
"That is to be expected…after all, you two are still coming to terms…"
Hans was sure that Scara was feeling what he was feeling: the strange, half-forced civility between their two spirits, as if they were both treading lightly on fragile ground. But if Død's stories were anything to go by, this was a marked improvement over the way the past 114 generations had interacted.
Livet seemed to have nothing more to say, because Scara went back to her previous task of moving food from their counters to the table. Død retreated and Hans took the opportunity to peer over Scara's shoulder. The table was visibly sagging under the weight of platters of fruit and stacks of fresh-baked breads. Towers of sweetmeats balanced precariously on the edge of the table kept in place only by a strategically placed pitcher of water.
"Scara?" He asked, amused. "What's all this for?"
Scara beamed at him, positively radiating with glee. "It's Incarnation Day!" She declared. She twirled away, a small cloud of pollen following the billow of her temple dress.
In his mind, Hans felt Død shake her head. Of course…
But the voice in his mind offered no further explanation. "What is that?" Hans asked.
Scara grabbed his hand and pulled him towards her work. "It's a celebration of the day that the first Guardian came to this place and found the four original hosts as babies! The spirits remember it as the day they fell to Earth." She picked up a handful of deliciously red strawberries and shoved them into his hand.
Having spent the better part of the last year with Scara and Goren, Hans had heard most of the legends. "Is that something they like to remember…?" He inquired, trying to juggle his fruit and not make it all decay in his hands. It was easy so long as he wasn't anxious.
Scara shrugged nonchalantly. "Not really. But we always celebrated it like all of our birthdays! Me and Theo and…Garret…" She trailed off, her face clouding. Several small vines clutched at the base of her dress.
Hans hesitated, unsure if he should offer comfort or let this moment be. Scara may have him and Død now, but he could not simply pretend that his presence did not come at the expense of two of the people Scara had loved most.
Placing the strawberries down, he reached out and after a moment's hesitation, laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. Some of the vines crawling along her dress withered; responding to his emotional instability.
Scara offered him a sad smile but didn't meet his eyes.
"Do you want to go see Elsa?" Hans tried, "I'm sure she wouldn't say no to a little celebration."
"Maybe we shouldn't drop in on her…" Scara reasoned, looking even further from him. "I'm sure Anna's had her baby by now…they're probably busy."
His heart clenched and a scent of burnt sienna swept through the room. "Well…" He began, swallowing his discomfort, "then we'll just celebrate ourselves." He picked up the strawberries again and bit into one, relishing the pure sweetness of a fruit just prepared by the spring host. "What did you and Theo and…Garret used to do?" He was unsure if he had the right to bring up the previous Guardian. After all, he had been the one who killed him.
Scara smiled softly, seemingly unaffected by his relation to her current situation. "We used to come out to my garden…it was harvest time so I'd make sure to grow something extra special…Theo would use the last of her waning powers to make some glass balls and illuminate the courtyard…Garret and Goren would prepare a feast for us and Theo and I would take turns creating new plants and glass sculptures with our powers…Theo would dance with me…"
He could see her making herself sad again. Popping the rest of the berries in his mouth, he took her by the hand. "We'll just have to make today our own now!" He declared, twirling her. "You and me and Livet and Død."
Scara beamed but some of her enthusiasm still seemed gone. "Don't forget Goren."
"How could I?" Hans muttered, moving to take a slice of bread. "Where is our little friend?"
"Here." Came a muffled voice from the floor. Hans peered around the table and saw the troll entering the room, curled up in a stone ball. The rock unfolded to reveal Goren, the Temple Librarian and rogue troll who served the Temple and the hosts. Hans had come to think of him with equal parts appreciation and annoyance: sometimes the creature interrupted his time alone with the Spring host.
"I was in the library…" the troll began, waddling forward, "when I remembered what today is." He smiled at them both. "Happy Incarnation Day!"
Hans bowed slightly to him. Despite his lingering dislike, he had to admit that the troll never showed any particular distaste towards him even with his unconventional arrival to the Temple.
Scara was beaming. "You came all the way from the library to simply wish us that?"
The troll shook his head. "Not quite. I was on my way to inform you of some fortunate timing." He produced a chart from gods-knew-where and held it up for them to see.
Hans recognized the calculations and renderings of the moon's cycles.
"Today is the full moon." He informed them, smiling broadly.
Scara's eyes widened. "Does that mean…?"
The troll nodded.
Scara wheeled to Hans so fast that he nearly toppled backwards over the table. "It's the perfect time…" She said, grabbing his arms. "Let's try again!"
Immediately, Hans' good mood deflated. "Why do you keep pushing this on me?" He could feel his discomfort starting to affect the food on their table. The last strawberry in his hand withered.
Scara's eyebrows came down, making her look older. "Because I think it would do you good to see it done."
She's not wrong. Død put in lightly. And I'm sure Livet would love to see this done too…
Scara took his hand. "Now come."
Hans obeyed quietly, internally marveling at how much pull this girl had with him.
"If Goren says it's the best time to try, then we should honor this day by trying!" Scara declared, leading Hans and the troll out of the Temple and into one of her innumerable gardens. This one was the main floor courtyard which Hans had discovered the first time he had arrived at the Temple. It mainly contained flowers and ornamental plants but bore the signs of their powers' occasional unpredictability with a few berry bushes and grapevines crawling about. As they entered, a gust of wind swept through the garden and the mingling scents met them like music from wind-chimes. The plants were glad to see them; both of them.
Scara only let go of him to greet each of her plants with soft caresses and murmured words. "You're doing so well…! Look at your new leaves! Such a pretty shape! Don't be like that, without him you'd be four times your size and half as healthy."
Knowing this last comment was about his dark aura, Hans tucked his hands into his pockets. The chrysanthemums next to him seemed to sigh with relief. He sneered at them.
"Both of you stop it." Scara chided. "Now come on!" She had chosen a small patch of dirt and squatted next to it.
Hans knelt beside her, resignedly grabbing a fistful of dirt. He glared at it as it dried out from his nervousness.
"Remember, don't squeeze too hard." Scara reminded him, some of Livet's voice already bleeding into her own. "Leave it some air." The ball of dirt in her hand was looking soft and moist. "Are you ready?"
"Hold on…" Hans closed his eyes and reached out to Død. She joined him, her power seeping slowly out from his core into his skin. "Alright." The two of them said, as their voices melded.
Scara's eyes glowed green and she rolled the soil in her hand. "Now!"
They joined hands, their contrasting balls of soil mixing together as their fingers groped and molded. Hans felt his powers crackle and felt more than he saw Scara's bloom in response. The wind picked up again, sparking with electricity. Life and Death clashed momentarily at the infinitesimal space between their joined fingers, the war playing out within the soil they shaped. Slowly, the ball in their hands shrank, hardening, power licking all through it…
"…Good!" Abruptly, they both pulled away breaking the connection with the force of pulling two magnets apart.
Panting, Hans felt Død retreat within him again. Briefly, he saw the green mist enveloping Scara again, emanating from her.
"Hans…" Scara gasped, the glow in her eyes fading. "Look!"
On the bare soil between them lay a single, shriveled seed.
Hans grimaced. Well, it was better-looking than the previous attempts'. And it had hurt far less to produce.
Careful not to touch it, Scara scooped a protective cover of dirt over it. Hans moved to help, heaping his own small blanket over their new seed.
"Your concentration was much better that time." Goren observed, perhaps as a way to remind them both that he was here. "I didn't see anything new sprout up or die."
Hans ignored the troll, glancing down at the little mound of soil. "Did it work?"
"We wont know for a few hours…" Scara patted the dirt encouragingly. "Let's give it time. But I can feel it. This time it'll be perfect."
Hans watched her for a moment, drinking in her naïve hope and the aura of goodness that clung persistently to her. He contemplated what she saw when she looked at him. Perhaps his was an aura of darkness? But was that something she needed?
But, he realized as he observed her sadly swirling the dirt, today she only needs a friend.
He cupped her shoulder. "Come on now." He said to her gently. "I believe I owe you a dance."
The Temple had no musical instruments but Goren kept a fairly consistent rhythm on several stones on the entrance hall floor. It was a far cry from the parties he had attended but Scara reacted as if it were several holidays all rolled into one so Hans imagined accompaniment to match the beat.
They danced for hours with no concept of the passage of time: whirling and kicking up their feet in Southern Isles' traditional dances and sending fragrant breezes around the hall in tiny cyclones as Hans dipped and spun the younger host.
"Enough! Enough!" Scara declared after he had done this a dozen times. He lifted her back to her feet and was surprised to feel her fall against him.
"Are you tired?" He asked, trying to peer into her face. Scara giggled and wrapped an arm around his waist.
"No…just…hold me."
"As you wish my lady." Hans replied with some of his court swagger.
Goren raised his mossy eyebrow but lowered his head respectfully when Hans glared at him. The troll began a slow, rolling rhythm that they slow-danced along to.
As they moved, her head came to rest against his shoulder. He stiffened but only momentarily. She smelled of pollen and flowers, of freshly-turned earth and sunshine.
Her trust in him was a foreign thing that he often examined with much interest. Women had trusted him blindly before (Anna being the most recent during their ill-conceived engagement) but he had wanted them to. He had all but ensured it with the charming, gentle personality he had cultivated for public appearances. Before Scara, it had been a game for him, women's emotions.
But he'd never desired for her to trust him. Instead, she had given her trust and merely asked that in return, he never left her.
"Thank you." Hans uttered, surprised to find her voice speaking in unison with his own. She smiled at him, all trust and bright sunshine.
Hans smiled back. This moment was perfect. Nothing could take this away from him.
There was a knock at the door. All three of them looked up then exchanged uneasy glances.
No one ever knocked. No one came out here…
Hans moved first, gesturing for Scara to stay behind him. She fell in beside him instead, staying quiet but her gaze focused. Goren followed them, for once not rolling but taking ambling, quiet steps.
Hans called to the wood in the door, urging it open slowly. In his free hand, he readied his strongest Breath. His heart thudded loudly in his ears.
If anyone thought they were coming in here for Scara, they'd have to fend off the might of Death itself first.
The visitor walked into the temple with strong, sure steps. They gazed around the entrance hall fondly, marveling at the familiar stones and layout. Then they turned and smiled at the inhabitants.
Scara was the first to react. Springing forward, she tackled the visitor in a crushing embrace. "…Theo!"
The former host of summer hugged her back, spinning the spring host in joyous circles, laughing silently.
"You came for Incarnation Day! You really came!" She sounded overjoyed but abruptly switched to anger (or as close as she could get to anger) when Theo set her down. "Where have you been?!" Scara cried, clinging to the black-haired woman and hitting her with her fists at the same time. "We were all so worried after the Battle, we felt Branna separate from you…then you were just gone! We didn't know if you were dead or hurt…"
Theo just watched her sympathetically, her face overflowing with love and sorrow.
Hans relaxed, glad in spite of his past to see the raven-haired girl was still alive. That being said, Hans wasn't entirely sure how to greet the other woman so he hung back, watching Scara animatedly talk, her momentary displeasure with the other woman gradually melting away. After all, the last time he'd seen Theo, they'd both been about to go on a murderous rampage through Arendelle. But the woman before him now was nearly unrecognizable to his one-time accomplice. She was more muscular and her hair was long and sloppily braided down her back. She also seemed…more peaceful. As if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders and it had caused her great happiness.
Død flooded him with her relief but he also caught a hint of caution from the spirit.
"What is it?" He asked under his breath as Scara continued to babble to the woman. "and Elsa…Elsa! She was so dejected when we couldn't find you…!"
Branna is not present. Død sounded suspicious. Theonia should not be alive…
Immediately, Hans' suspicions skyrocketed. His fingers twitched, itching to call for his Sword…
But as if she could sense his change in demeanor, Theo turned to him, her ashy eyes locking with his. Scara gasped as Hans felt his muscles lock. His immediate fear was at once washed away by a jolt of familiar electricity running through him.
The Guardian… Even without Død's affirmation, Hans knew this feeling.
Slowly stepping away from a now immobile Scara, Theo advanced towards him. Her eyes briefly burned a brilliant orange-gold and his powers shivered in response.
The Guardian knelt before him and drew her sword. Deliberately, she sliced a shallow cut into her right thigh and painted his wrist with the blood she drew. He saw her lips moving in soundless oath. Hans shivered violently as she released him from the binding.
Theo then turned to Scara, her eyes flashing green. Kneeling before the spring host, she completed the rite with her, only this time, she cut herself on her right shoulder. As the blood faded from Scara's skin, the spring host practically vibrated with excitement.
"The Guardian…you're our new Guardian?"
Theo nodded, sheathing the legendary blade, her joy practically shimmering off of her form.
Scara embraced her again. "I'm so happy for you!"
"How…?" Silent during the whole rite, Goren had padded up next to Hans and was shaking his head in disbelief. "How is this possible?"
Hans didn't recognize his statement but for once, it was not out of malice.
Scara pulled back from the hug and traced a scar at the corner of Theo's mouth. "You've bonded to Elsa already, haven't you?"
Theo blinked slowly, dipping her head in acknowledgment.
"And what of Branna?"
Theo smiled but her expression revealed nothing. She pulled up her left sleeve to reveal another scar. Scara traced it as well, her eyes glistening with tears.
"We feared you were dead." She said softly. "But Livet didn't feel you go…" The Guardian's eyes shone and she stroked Scara cheek reassuringly.
"I saw a new name on Branna's scroll…Sophie." Goren interjected. "So there is a new host?"
Theo shook her head but continued to smile and gestured at her lip scar.
"I don't understand…" The troll said. "What happened to you? Who is Sophie?"
Theo shook her head again and pointed at her lips.
"You cant speak?" Goren guessed, his voice sympathetic.
The Guardian nodded solemnly.
Scara immediately had her by the throat, feeling for illness or injury. "Was it because Branna left you?" She inquired, pressing gently on Theo's voice box. "I have just the thing! Livet's been helping me grow some…" But Theo was shaking her head again. The Guardian turned to Goren and began to move her hands in deliberate, flashing motions.
Goren's eyebrows shot up. "You took a vow of silence."
Theo nodded, continuing to sign at a rapid pace.
"What is that?" Scara asked, watching Theo's hands with interest.
"She's communicating with the silent language of the trolls." Goren told her, never taking his eyes from Theo's hands. "She says…"
"Wait!"
Scara dashed off, leaving the boys alone with Theo. Hans stared at her awkwardly.
"Glad to…see you alive?" He tried.
She glared at him but without any real fire.
Hans smiled sheepishly back. "Scara missed you." He said, trying to sound welcoming.
Theo's face relaxed with a mixture of relief and sorrow. But at that moment Scara came pelting back into the room, a cloud of pollen accompanying her and Theo cleared her expression.
"Here!" She declared, shoving a piece of parchment and a red quill towards Theo.
The Guardian immediately balked, refusing to touch the crimson pen and eying it distastefully.
It's Branna's Quill. Død supplied. Only her host can write with it.
"Only the host of Branna can write with that, Scara." The troll gently reminded her. "Theo is no longer the host so she cant use it."
Scara pouted but gently placed the quill and parchment down. "I'll miss your stories…" She said in a small voice.
Theo spared her a sympathetic glance but then turned back to Goren and began to sign again.
The troll peered at her, mouthing along with the motions. "Theo says that…Branna has…reincarnated?" He paused, puzzled. "What does that mean?"
Hans suddenly recalled that terrifying moment in Arendelle when he had been master of all four seasons, when all of their powers had been tangled and indiscernible. He remembered the feeling of each of them leaving him, especially the hazy exhale that had cast Branna adrift.
"Wait…" All eyes turned to him as he started to piece it together. "Branna did she...? She doesn't have a host now…does she?"
Theo shook her head, tapping the side of her nose to let him know he was right.
"Is she…?" Goren seemed to be picking up on it as well. "Is this Sophie…the goddess herself?" He sounded troubled.
"Just like Elsa is Isen?" Scara piped up.
Theo gave a nod of affirmation and Scara nearly squealed with delight. "How wonderful! Another spirit has figured out how to be human!"
"I'm not sure that's something to celebrate, Scara." Hans pointed out.
"Why not?" Scara demanded, turning on him hurtfully. "The Daughters came to Earth as punishment. Isn't several thousand years as disembodied spirits more than enough punishment? They deserve to live free!" Taken aback by her emotional reaction, Hans faltered, unsure how to reassure her.
"I think Hans was more referring to the identity of Branna…" Goren put in helpfully and Hans both wanted to thank and kick him for it. He could defend himself! "If this Sophie is not raised in a welcoming environment," Goren continued, "she could turn out to be dangerous. So who is it?" Goren turned back to Theo. "Who is this Sophie?"
Theo smirked mischievously and made two brief hand motions.
Goren's face fell in disbelief. "Wait…wait…really?"
Theo nodded.
"So Princess Anna's child is the Summer?" Goren declared, seemingly forgetting that Scara and Hans didn't know that yet.
"WHAT!?" They both cried, in unison with the spirits in their heads.
Theo shook with silent laughter, eying each of them in turn.
Scara rubbed her chin in thought. "What is it about that family?..."
Hans shook his head. Of course. Of course Anna would be the mother of the new spirit. It suited her, a little too perfectly.
"But…" Scara began when the excitement had dimmed somewhat. "What happened to you?"
Theo gestured and the two hosts and the troll followed her through the Temple. They crossed into the garden. Theo found a large expanse of clear dirt and squatted down. Tracing in the dirt, she constructed a scene for them. Slowly, with drawings and occasional motions in the troll's silent language, she told them her story: how she had crawled from Arendelle back to the Temple, how she'd been chosen as the Guardian, how she'd trained for months and then made the journey back to Arendelle and paid for her crimes with the lashings and now her vow of silence.
After some time, Hans sat back on his heels. "That is…that is most impressive." He'd been whipped once, by his father. It had not been a pleasant experience.
Theo dipped her head in acknowledgement. She rose slowly but paused, squinting at something across the lengthening shadows in the garden.
"What?" Hans asked, turned around. His eyes widened. "Scara!" He cried, an unfamiliar sense of joy blooming in his chest. "Look!"
In the patch of soil they'd tended earlier, a fragile little sprout was wriggling from the ground.
Scara was next to it in a second, hovering anxiously over the tiny, fast-growing plant. Hans was two steps behind her, his hands well hidden. The magic sprout was still growing furiously, putting out leaves and branching slightly.
"Hans!" Scara snapped at him good-naturedly, "get over here!"
Hans panicked, stepping back. "What? No, I'm not jeopardizing this when it's doing so well…"
"Don't be silly!" Scara insisted, tugging him down beside her. "It needs you too!" She held his hands around the tiny sprout, brimming with the confidence he was lacking.
The small plant faltered slightly, slowing its growth. But as they watched, it began to thicken and become a deeper green color.
Hans turned to her and found tears of joy running down Scara's face. By her expression, he suspected that his eyes were not dry as well.
Theo watched them carefully, her eyes darting between them and the tiny plant.
But, of course, she said nothing.
As the evening continued, Theo produced several misshapen lumps of glass from her traveling pouch and presented them ceremonially to Scara. Unperturbed by their appearance, the Spring host merely coaxed one of her trees to hold them aloft where they reflected the light of the torches and shimmered in the breeze.
Goren had arranged several more rocks in a small pile and as he began gently tapping on them, Scara grabbed Theo's hand and pulled her into a dance. The two spun and stepped, moving in perfect tandem.
Hans watched them dance, trying to tamp down the rising wraith of jealousy within him.
They did only have each other for most of their lives… The voice in his head commented.
Hans sighed. "I know," he replied quietly, his eyes never leaving the dancing pair. "But she has us now…Theo abandoned her. I've been here!"
He felt his anger flare and the bush next to him wilted entirely. Scara abruptly met his gaze, as if he had shouted his statement instead of muttering it. Her reassuring smile cooled his flaring emotions slightly.
She can love us both. Død reasoned. She had flinched from his anger but had not fled from it as she had in the past. And perhaps anger is not warranted here?
"I don't want to be angry…" Hans admitted, his eyebrow rising in jealousy as Theo picked Scara up and spun her effortlessly. "But I'm not very good at this. Theo and I don't have much to build on."
There is something you could offer her…. Død suggested and Hans was surprised to feel the memory she was urging him to recall.
But he had to admit, it was perfect.
So as Scara left the garden to prepare another meal and Goren rolled away to do Gods-knew-what, he approached the silent Guardian.
"Hey…Theo…"
The woman turned to him, one eyebrow raised in question.
Hans hefted a sword. "Would you care to spar?"
Her other eyebrow joined the first and her eyes darted to the blade.
"It's not THE Sword, don't worry." Hans assured her, mentally berating himself for a mistake this early. "I just thought…since you're new to the whole Guardian thing…how about a lesson in swordplay?"
Theo's blade was drawn and defending against his own before he'd even blinked. Her smile was confident. Hans smirked. This could be fun.
"Good reflexes." He complimented her. "But let's see how well you handle that blade."
They crossed blades, each sizing the other up and testing their strength. Hans was impressed; the Guardian matched his pressure quite well, with good control. They sprang apart and their battle began.
Hans had taken lessons in swordplay since he'd been ten. He was considered a fairly skilled master and had bested many of his teachers back in the Isles. But he felt those years of education and practice straining as he faced the Guardian.
Despite her greenness to the sword, she managed to disarm him twice and reach a kill position once. But Hans' skill persevered and he managed to double his score on her quickly. He tried taunts and feints, anything to throw the Guardian off her game.
He watched for the perfect moment, half of his mind on his parries and strikes, the other on the deepening scowl on Theo's face…
As a slightly delayed reaction to his strike had the Guardian shaking her head in frustration, Hans made his move.
Catching her blade near the hilt, he forced it down. His free hand simultaneously grabbed her wrist, twisting it so her palm was forced up. As the Guardian retaliated by tilting her sword up and lunging, Hans simply turned his wrist, guiding her sword harmlessly over his head. Before she could react, he turned on his front foot, dragging her by her wrist until they were back to back with Theo's arm twisted unnaturally over his shoulder. A sharp flex of his arm and she was rolling over his shoulder, slamming painfully onto her stomach in front of him. Her sword clattered uselessly to the ground.
Hans panted, relishing his flawless execution. In the Southern Isles, that move was known as the Gauntlet's Throw. It was a bit ironic, as one typically threw a gauntlet to initiate a challenge and yet this move was meant to end a duel.
Theo shook herself; her chin looked badly bruised but she had made no sound of pain or even surprise.
"You need to be less in your head." Hans told her, looking down on her. He poked her sword closer. "Also work on recoveries, both falls and parries; they will literally save your life."
In one fluid motion, Theo leapt to her feet, sword poised. She gestured, her brows knitted.
"What?"
Theo shook her sword and gestured again. Then she assumed a combat stance.
Now Hans understood her meaning. They locked swords again and he repeated the Gauntlet's Throw, a little slower this time. Theo watched intently, barely wincing as he threw her to the ground again.
She sprang back up and gestured.
They practiced the move several more times and on the last one, the Guardian surprised him by executing a nearly flawless Throw, using her lower stature and a twist of her hips to send him sprawling painfully.
"Okay…" Hans coughed, picking himself up from the dirt. "I think we're done…"
Theo smirked triumphantly as she bowed to him and sheathed her sword. She offered him a hand up.
Hans brushed it aside but found himself being gently slapped in return. Sheepishly, he took the offered hand.
"Sorry," he apologized, rubbing the dirt from his hair. "I'm not used to accepting chivalry from women…"
Theo's reply was to playfully punch him in the shoulder.
"You've certainly lightened up since Arendelle." He commented, rolling his shoulder. That comment earned him a familiar glare, complete with a guilty twitch of the hands.
"I suppose…I should thank you." Hans began, once again unsure if he was making a mistake. "We may have done terrible things there but…I much prefer this place I'm in now to where I thought I wanted to be before."
The Guardian stared at him, an unreadable emotion in her eyes. But he did not sense the judgment he had expected in her gaze. After a moment, she looked away, drawing her arms slightly around herself. The simple change in stance made her look so much older but so much more vulnerable.
Hans held up his hands in a gesture of peace. Here was his one-time partner in crime. He admired her for having such control of her emotions around Scara when she was clearly still tormented by her actions against Elsa's kingdom. But then again, Scara did make it so easy for one to swallow their pain and live for the moment.
He wondered if every day were like this for her…having all that torment locked inside her where it could pound ceaselessly on your conscious. Unable to even voice her pain, was she slowly dying inside? The way he had been? Did she have someone like Scara, to help her forget and start to forgive herself?
A gentle touch on his arm roused him from his thoughts. Staring deeply into his eyes, Theo began to sign in the troll language again.
"Ummm…" The flashing, fluid motions were meaningless to Hans. "Maybe I should get Goren…" But the Guardian squeezed his arm to stop him from escaping. She took a deep breath, thinking.
She ran a finger over the inlaid patterns in his sleeve that smelled of spice and decay. She glanced at the many flourishing plants in the garden, her eyes lingering on the delicate new flowers opening up on the bush that had sprouted from the magic seed. Then she looked up at him with her eyes unguarded. It was a moment of vulnerability he had never known from the hot-headed former host. Her expression was one of gratitude and peace.
No words were exchanged between them (how could there be?) but Hans understood completely.
"She has been my guiding light through this all." He told the Guardian. "I will protect her until my last breath."
Apparently satisfied, the Guardian nodded and together, they made their way back into the temple.
As night began to fall, Theo prepared herself for the long trek back to Arendelle.
Hans' royal upbringing was urging him to offer her the chance to stay the night but the Guardian seemed driven by something and hadn't even seemed to have considered spending the night.
Theo and Scara had a long goodbye, prolonged by hugs and Scara always remembering some odd thing of Theo's that she wanted the Guardian to have and scampering off to find it, leaving Hans and Goren to awkwardly wait with the silent guest.
The fourth time Scara did this (returning with Theo's old red and orange streaked temple dress), Theo finally held up a hand. Her gaze had a firm reproach in it but her eyes expressed her sorrow at needing to leave.
Scara lowered her head. "I know…I just want it to be like it was before…"
Theo lifted her chin and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. As she pulled back, she touched the scar on her lip and made the signal they had come to associate with the name of the Fire Goddess.
"I know…" Scara said sadly. "She needs you now. But that doesn't mean I won't miss you."
The Guardian placed a hand over her right shoulder, over the scar of binding with Scara then slid the same hand over her heart. She then glanced up at Hans and nodded to him. He inclined his head.
Scara smiled. "It's for her too isn't it?" She asked softly. "You're not just staying for Sophie."
Theo's gaze darkened slightly, her look became stern. Goren coughed slightly but it sounded more like he was stifling a chortle than clearing his throat.
Scara was undeterred. "I don't know why you don't admit it! I've seen it since the beginning!" She declared. She gestured blindly behind her. "Even Hans realized it!"
Meeting Theo's dark gaze, Hans hurried shook his head. He honestly couldn't care less. But if he had to admit it, Elsa did always seem more emotional around the raven-haired girl.
Theo placed two fingers on her lips, her eyes flashing.
Scara cocked her head, still confused. "What?" She asked, looking to Goren. The troll merely shrugged; he didn't understand the gesture any more than she did.
Theo repeated the gesture, this time bowing her head slightly. She clenched her left hand.
"OH…" Hans realized, thinking about the scar on her forearm. "It was her, wasn't it?"
Theo looked at him, her eyes narrowed.
"Elsa's the one you took the vow for…?"
Theo shook her head and tapped her lips again.
"…Elsa commanded you to take the vow…" Scara realized. Her mouth fell open in horror and she exchanged a glance with Hans. "For how long?"
Theo's shoulders slumped and she gestured forlornly to Goren.
"…indefinitely…" Goren translated. "…or until Elsa frees her from it…" He regarded the Guardian with sad eyes. "Oh Theo…I am sorry…"
Theo straightened up immediately, standing tall and proud with her hand on the sword. Her intended message was clear. She did not consider it a burden if it helped her fulfill her duties as a Guardian.
Scara rushed forward to embrace her once again, this time seeming more a comforting than a farewell. Theo accepted it, laying her head on Scara's shoulder. Hans saw her breathe a silent sigh of relief. He felt a smile spread across his face. Part of her inner secret was shared at last.
"I still think you should tell Elsa how you feel, Theo." The Spring host insisted as she pulled back.
Theo rolled her eyes and sighed exaggeratedly. Clearly she wished this topic had not been brought up.
Hans laughed and put his arm around the spring host, partially in support and partially to keep her from hugging the Guardian again.
"Let Theo be." He chastised her. "She can hardly tell Elsa anyway…"
The glare he received for that statement returned a bit of Branna's fire to the Guardian's eyes. Hans smirked. He'd missed that.
Scara stepped forward again, smiling gently at Theo. She took the Guardian's hand and Hans swore he saw her press something into it. "Go." Scara told her. "We'll be alright on our own. Go protect Branna and be with your Isen."
Shaking her head in amusement, Theo drew her in for one last hug. Then she nodded once each to Hans and Goren and turned on her heel.
Their Guardian left them, making the long, lonely trek back to Arendelle alone.
If she had known what was about to happen, she would have stayed. She would have broken her vow to prevent the horrors Spring and Fall were to witness because she had not been there to protect them.
But the seasons were changing and Summer called to her at this time. Fall and Spring would have to wait.
A.N.: ...[gestures silently]
Heeeyyyyy.