Chapter Six: Christmas in July

Truth be told the captain in question had not, in fact, been privy to the vast majority of the incriminating conversation; an unfortunate circumstance in his most humble opinion.

An unfortunate circumstance that could only be blamed on poor Stefan Himmler. His mother had come looking for him shortly after Anna entered the late king's study, and by the time he'd helped Kai and Disa wrangle the boy out of the hall with the help of two of his men, assured Kai that they could handle "protecting the princesses" while the ruffled steward straightened up, was stopped by a breathless messenger relaying a message from the one and only Kristoff, bid him adieu upon Marius' promise to pass it along to its rightful recipient with suspicions of magic in the air that night for a certain stableman, and shooed a raven screeching from the window, he returned with only enough time to catch the last few snippets.

Oh, but what intriguing snippets they were.

"–wishing he'd wrapped those gorgeous, sexy, muscular arms around you and never let you go! Just say you honestly don't dream of throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him until you can't breathe and perhaps I'll keep quiet."

Thoughts bucking, he raked a hand across his scale. Wait, what? Since when does Elsa have a beau? He swore under his breath. When he found out who it was…

Softer, another voice was saying something he couldn't make out. Marius turned his head towards the door.

Nothing.

He grimaced.

Glancing down the hall to make sure his men had returned to their posts and that he was alone, he squeezed his eyes shut until he found the blackness, listening.

Nothing happened.

"C'mon, work." Pressing his fingers to his temples he strained forward, moving sluggishly through his mental barriers as though they were constructed from refined steel.

But then a lone, ill-used synapse fires in his brain, bringing with it a tingling that causes every hair, every fiber to stand on end. By now he's familiar with it.

Amber light fills the space beneath his eyelids, but he hasn't opened his eyes. Warmth smoothes drafty air of the corridor, like purified sunlight.

His senses suddenly sharpen.

Sounds once silent blare. Thousands of thoughts not his own fill his head, buzzing like a hive of seething wasps.

Swimming through the thick brightness, searching, searching – he reaches for the closest pulse, a gentle turquoise accented with ribbons of silver and magenta.

" –that's not –" His heart skips a beat, too fast and overly loud in his ears.

The connection broke and the world was quiet again. Somehow dimmer, less vibrant, less alive.

"You hesitated!" Chirping like a canary, yet still missing something he couldn't quite place, the younger princess sang out. "Oh my goodness you're blushing! You're blushing, you're blushing, you're blushing!"

Liquid fire shot through his left temple.

"Gah!" Marius grunted, lurching forwards and clutching his head. The pain moved to the base of his skull, his forehead, snaking and probing until it seemed his head would split open.

And then, as quickly as it had come, the pain vanished, leaving him lightheaded. Marius stumbled, throwing his hand into the wall, chest heaving. He sucked in a breath of overheated summer, leaving his throat parched and desperate for a draught of winter.

The pain was a new development.

It wasn't supposed to hurt, this…thing he was able to control.

Saints, what's wrong with you? Pull yourself together. He massaged his temples, grinding his teeth. Serves you right. Eavesdropping on the princess isn't part of your job.

Sure made it more interesting though…

Straightening, he shook himself roughly.

That's it. He was getting to the bottom of this mystery man. Forgive me Your Late Majesty, gaze ceiling-ward his mouth plucked up in a sad smile. Got my own sorry love life to deal with. Didn't realize I had to worry about your daughter's.

A fist to the door, Marius knocked sharply.

"Princess Elsa," Stupidly, his pulse faltered. Come on man. Pull yourself together. "Permission to enter."

Whispering, giggling, hissing, snickering, but he didn't try to probe again.

There was probably a better name for it, probing, but this seemed the most accurate. Wasn't like he could go around asking, broadcasting his…talent for all to see. He himself had avoided thinking over much of why he could hear things others couldn't. Or wouldn't. The Scandinavian Kingdoms of Arendelle, Karlskrona, Oulais, Nivala, and the Southern Isles were superstitious either by principle or nature, what with the Prophecy of Ragnorok having stirred up a couple of monks a few centuries back. And while he was pretty sure hearing things qualified as crazy rather than sorcery, or any other sort of Snow-Queen-Apocalypse-Doom's-Day bunk, he'd rather not invite trouble.

Though trouble always seemed to have a funny way of finding him whether he wanted it to or not.

Particularly in the form of a certain Arendellise princess.

"Uh, um…per-permission to enter." His chest constricted, hearing her. Grinning like some idiot school boy no doubt, he opened the door and strode through.

And stopped dead away.

Clearly there was something wrong with his eyes as well, because the study faded away to gray, taking with it a self-satisfied Anna, arms folded expectantly.

All that remained was her.

"Saints." He murmured under his breath as he scratched the back of his neck. Kind of disconcerting that he was actually blushing. Could it be that he was starting to lose his touch?

Doubtful. He refused to consider such a possibility.

Someone before him had probably compared a woman to an angel, her hair to spun sunlight, and her eyes to the stars sparkling above, her lips to a blossoming rose, so he was going to have to get a little more creative.

Here went nothing.

The creature sitting before him, small-framed and elegant behind the great table was from another world all together. A world where skin and hair shone like fresh snow fall and big, wide eyes glinted like crushed ice crystals. Where lips were like garnets and held him breathless.

Where he realized he was in far, way too far, over his head; drowning and welcoming his fate with open arms.

Because she wasn't pretty, a word even before this moment hadn't been worthy to describe her. She wasn't even beautiful, the word that could have been her equal, had she been common.

No. She was as radiant as the silver moon shining through the darkness of the night.

"Princess Elsa." Marius sank to his knee, crossing his right arm to his left shoulder, and bowing his head until his nose brushed his well-muscled thigh in the sign of utmost respect. Flicking a lock of tawny hair from his eyes, he ensnared her with his most winning smile, smolder at the ready.

Startled, Elsa blinked, drawing attention to her impossibly long lashes. To his pleasure, a vivid red flooded down her high cheekbones. But, to her credit, she kept eye contact longer than any of the maids did.

Impressive.

"A pleasure to see you again."

"I –uh…" Teeth flashing white, they caught her lip. "T-t-the pl-pleasure's all m-mine Captain Thorn."

His grin widened.

"Captain Thorn, eh?" Marius rose, chuckling, turning to Anna. Anna, who looked as pleased as a cat in the cream. Again, the image of a wily vixen was brought to mind. She was up to something with this plan of hers and apparently had gotten whatever she'd needed accomplished. He wondered if it had anything to do with the great ball of orange fabric she was stuffing into a box near the window.

"Oh fair maiden." Sliding his gaze to Elsa's, he winked. While she seemed to be making a commendable effort to ignore him, no small feat mind you, her posture, shoulders drawn back and rigid, gave her away. "Got another message for you."

"Really?" Anna tilted a carrot-colored hat in her hands, poking experimentally at the cage of birds a top it. He didn't ask, knowing if it was important, he'd hear about it eventually. "What is it?"

Shrugging casually, he overcame the temptation to tease.

"Nothing crazy. Just that Kristoff's waiting for you in the gardens. Not sure why, but you know how impatient he gets." Whipping her head up so quickly she winced, Anna squeaked, both hopeful and timid.

"He's what?! Really?" Marius cocked a questioning brow, his unanswered question answered in full.

"Aye," he said, smirking. "He's –"

Elsa coughed quietly, effectively drawing his attention to her. She was watching Anna intently, a rare half-smile doing something fascinating to her lips and he admitted he was hardly paying attention as Anna jabbered on,

"I mean, 'course he is. Obviously. Gotta discuss that plan of mine. I'd better go – I have to go." Like a bird, she flew to the door, wiggling her fingers in farewell. "Bye Elsa. See you at your coronation. Have fun…"

"Uh, love your strudel–"

"Wait." The eldest princess starting to wise, clutching her skirts, panicked. "Anna, don't leave–"

But the door had already snapped shut, pastries entirely forgotten.

Elsa swallowed hard and very slowly lowered herself into the firm padding of the leather chair, knowing that if she'd possessed the ability to perspire, her gloves would have been soaked through and frozen over. Alone. She was alone. With him. Out of all the chaos of the month of July, the news of violent rebellions in the French kingdom of Toulouse, skirmishes between the English Cameleisians and Welsh Rhylans, their perilous economy, this shook her the most.

Mouth dry, she tucked her hands into her lap and discreetly peeped at M – Captain Thorn through her lashes, tracing the planes of his clean-shaven cheeks and the line of his squared jaw as it angled into his strong neck. Dark tawny hair, tousled and unkempt, gave the impression of being perpetually windblown. Thin strands of copper and bronze threaded through his thick curls, interrupted only by that swatch of pale blonde he shared with Anna and Kristoff.

Her constant reminder.

Captain Thorn abruptly shifted his gaze to hers. She froze, heart stumbling. Her stomach twisted itself in knots at the deep rumble of Captain Thorn's laugh.

"She's awfully happy today." He commented, gesturing towards the door.

Elsa recalled the look of pure elation filling out her sister's dimples when Kristoff's name was mentioned. It scared her more than she could say that Anna saw the same thing in her.

"Um, y-yes. This is good for her." She murmured.

Hearing Captain Thorn's approaching footsteps, she snatched the first book in her reach, flipping it open at random and finding the neat columns of dates and numbers of her ledger.

"For you too I think." Captain Thorn said quietly, regarding her, listing his head to side. "Now granted I'd loved to keep keeping you all to myself, but I'm sure the people of Arendelle want to meet their future queen."

"W-W-what do you mean?"

Instead of answering, her bodyguard leaned across her desk, craning his neck so that she had no choice but to meet his eyes, and dashed a grin at her.

He straightened, forcing her gaze to follow him, away from the finance ledger.

"Just that it's nice to see your smile again, love. I've missed it. Improves your looks too." Captain Thorn made no point of hiding the way his eyes roamed her face, lingering pointedly on her lips in a way that made it hard to breathe. Cocking a one-sided smirk, he added. "Not of course that you need it."

Is he…is he f-flirting with me? But – no, no Elsa. Don't be ridiculous. No, he's just…just…

Mortified, Elsa felt her cheeks burn before the transgression was corrected and her skin was blissfully cool again, the chill clinging to the silver necklace tucked beneath her bodice, lying beside her heart. She nearly groaned aloud at her stupidity. How was she to avoid her shameful thought if his long-ago gift recorded her quickened pulse. Foolish girl. Loony girl. Shivering, but not from the cold she ducked her head, pretending to review the ledger though the year at the top of the page was from the year prior.

"That's hardly appropriate Captain Thorn." She said curtly.

Captain Thorn held his hands up in mock surrender. "Relax, love. It was just an innocent remark. An observation if you will."

"I hardly think–" He held up a finger, and like a well-behaved child, she silenced.

"Hungry?"

Reaching into his bulging pockets, Marius frowned slightly, finally extracting the wrapped strudel. "Thought you might want something to eat before you went to the chapel. This is Gerda at her finest." The cloth stuck as he peeled it away, caught in the honey glaze. "Now she made me promise that I would watch you eat the thing and to tell you the truth, that woman scares me. So," he uncovered the pastry with a flick of his wrist. Nabbing her shield – pardon, her book –by the spine, he settled the strudel in front of her, laying the cloth beneath it. "If you would M'lady."

Elsa stared, thorn between sweeping her breakfast aside and taking a bite. Her hesitancy, her timidity, was off-putting. Almost like she was set in holding the world at arms length to protect herself, avoiding anything new for fear of scars. What he wouldn't give to wrap her in his arms and fill her with the brightness a probe showed him. Be the one to light a fire inside those eyes.

Easy Marius.

"Here." Exaggerating patience, Marius fished out his own pastry. "If it makes it easier, I'll have one with you. Though technically I'm not allowed to eat my meal before you do, crazy rule I know, so, love, I'd appreciate it if you didn't leave me hanging." He waved the pastry around a little to make his point.

Resigned, Elsa sighed and finally tore away the edge of the strudel and cautiously bit into it. Her pretty eyes widened and she stilled, chewing slowly. Had he not been present, Marius suspected she would have moaned with delight.

"Good, ain't it?" In answer she took another bite, nodding.

"Told you." Popping a piece of still-warm, buttery, sugary, flakey goodness into his mouth, hints of lemon and cinnamon bursting on his tongue, Marius dropped into the plush chair facing Elsa's desk, surveying the study as they ate breakfast. It was cooler than the other rooms in the palace, pleasantly so and drying the perspiration on his brow. Stately bookshelves that rivaled those in the library lined the wall space save for a single window. Scientific instruments of glass caught the sun rays and refracted them in a million rainbows.

Huh. It was weird, the things he didn't know about King Adgar, how little he knew about the man behind the military medallions won in the Karlskro-Arendellise Wars. Marius hadn't spent much time here as a child, just a few stolen glances when Anna got into trouble and was called by her father.

Or more accurately, when he and Kristoff got Anna into trouble sliding down the banisters and climbing to the roof and swimming in the fjord clad only in their undergarments. King Adgar hadn't exactly been impressed, but he was a fair, patient man and their "punishment" usually involved Gerda and the kitchens and making desserts.

Their adventures were to be short-lived. His training started shortly after the gates closed and he only left the barracks for Christmastide. Sure he saw his friends at chapel, but Sunday was the Sabbath and they whisked away from the public eye as soon as Karmichael finished his sermon. Which was rumored to be the likely cause of The Great Christmas Tree Scandal of 1781, though no one could prove it. It still raised fond smiles amongst the populace, though nine years had passed since the mysterious incident. Word on the streets was the culprits were still out there, watching, waiting to make their next move.

But something, or someone, was always missing. Curious, Marius twisted so he was looking at Elsa, pleased to find that the strudel was gone, and wanting to kiss the crumbs from her –

Let it go man. Get over it. What's it gonna be? Your freedom or a girl you barely know anymore? They'll be other women.

His brain nodded, approving the logic.

His heart scoffed. 'And sometimes, against all odds, against all logic, we still hope.'

Growling, the two returned to their war.

Saints on high he was going to drive himself half-mad the rate he was going. Flirting was one thing. He could always lie, tell her he didn't really mean it. Of course he didn't mean it; he was engaged to the former most beautiful woman in Arendelle. Who wouldn't want to be him? But idealizing about taking Anna's suggestions and making them reality…would make it that much harder when he left. And he would be leaving.

No if, ands, or, buts about it.

He only wished it didn't make him feel like such a total cad.

As she was working her tongue around her gums, searching out any missed bits of glaze, rooting for flecks of tender apple, Elsa couldn't help but wonder what he wanted from her. Mother and Father wanted the promise of poise and grace and perfection. Parliament wanted her hands bound, easily controlled. Prince Hans, Prince Lennart…she dreaded what they really wanted.

Even Anna wanted, no, needed her to be something she wasn't. So Captain Thorn…what? What did he want? A twinge wormed uncomfortably through her temples, the beginnings of a headache. She didn't know what to think. Bringing her breakfast was something a friend would do, was it not? Perhaps that was it.

Seeing Captain Thorn watching her, lips kinked in that infuriating smirk, Elsa startled and swiped her sticky mouth, reddening.

"You're pretty when you blush, love." This of course only served to heighten the deep rose in her cheeks though her body was growing use to the abnormality and failed to heat.

He's just teasing, a weak thought suggested, hopeful. You saw him with Anna. There's nothing between them and he acts the same way as he does with you. It's just his personality. You're overreacting. Calm yourself. Control yourself.

Sure she'd turn into a hopeless puddle of stammering goo if she didn't for Elsa neatly folded the cloth and placed it on his side of the desk, peeking at him shyly. "T-thank you for breakfast. It…" she hesitated. Was it flirting to thank him for a simple act of kindness? "It was nice."

"No problem Princess. It was my pleasure." Their eyes met and held, long enough that she noticed the ring of ultramarine rimming his irises and the flecks of gold that reminded her of a shard of lapis lazuli.

Enough Elsa.

Clearing her throat and spying the ornate hands of the grandfather clock, she braced herself stood, a motion instantly copied by her bodyguard. Despite his… um…rather unprofessional conversation, he was the epitome of royal etiquette.

"We should go. Minister Karmichael requested to speak with me before the – my coronation." Robes whispering, telling pretty little secrets, she lifted her chin and regally walked towards the door, passing close enough to the window for her heart to skitter at the sight of the packed common. At her orders, the inner gates would be open, the castle overcome –

"Speaking of which, I have a present for you." Suddenly, so close, Elsa felt the heat of his body at her back, Captain Thorn murmured low and lilting. Surprised, Elsa stumbled, steadying herself and stepping away before her bodyguard could react. She looked at him sharply.

"Y-you – what?" Captain Thorn grinned sheepishly and pulled his hand out from behind him, producing a long, flat box wrapped in silvery foil and a cobalt blue ribbon. The tissue was gorgeous, the wrapping job less so.

"Sorry 'bout how messy it looks. Mother –" An odd twinge in his expression, one she understood and made her chest hurt, before it was smothered by pure magnetism. "Had a devil of a time finding the tissue paper, but it's only the best for you, love." He held it out to her, black gloved fingers matching her own. "Just a little something from me to you." A single dimple appeared in his cheek, his grin lopsidedly irresistible. The kind that made her want to smile back.

Take it. He'd thought of her. Captain Thorn, the star of her fantasies, had cared enough to think of her. Ice cold, the tiny snowflake pendant pressed against her breast.

Don't take it. He shouldn't be thinking of her. These were supposed to be for Iulia Fenrir, not anyone else, and especially not her. Iulia, the only one who should be reveling in his attention.

Don't take it.

She bit down into her lip, hard enough to sting, and slowly shook her head.

"N-no. I can't take that. It wouldn't be proper –"

Captain Thorn snorted, not unkindly, but making no attempt to hide his evident exasperation. "Propriety be hanged. I have no one else to give it to. It's kind of specifically for you." He absentmindedly fingered the sloppy ribbon. "And when you find out what it is, trust me, you'll want them."

"I-uh…" Despite the endless diatribe of warnings, Elsa found herself dumbly accepting the box. Friends partook in these sorts of activities, didn't they? It was like Christmas, as Anna had put it. Christmas in July. Giving a present to celebrate a special occasion wasn't indicative of romantic…um… "Thank you."

Because she wasn't her sister, because she was scared to death and all too aware of how Captain Thorn closed the gap between them, the top of her head level with his broad shoulders, Elsa unwrapped the present slow and methodical. The dark blue ribbon was pried off and slipped over her wrist so not to make mess. She peeled the tissue away. The box beneath was simple and black, unadorned. She lifted the lid.

Her mouth parted.

Oh Marius…

Inside was the finest pair of gloves she could have ever imagined. Pure silk and shining pale turquoise. They were long enough to cover her elbows, embroidered with rich gold crocuses embellished with tiny dots of seed pearls and ruby gems to hem the deeply scalloped edges. Ornate, but tastefully so, simple enough to add just a touch of elegance.

They were gloves fit for a queen.

Was this a joke?

"I've been running some experiments and I think these might be able to suppress the magic." Papa lifted the lid of the box and knelt down in front of her. Unsure, she adjusted the little half-jacket she wore over her dark blue dress and frowned when she glimpsed the flattened, empty fingers of gloves. Papa was a student of the Scientific Revolution and was always eager to run his experiments. Was she simply another project to him? Something broken in need of fixing? Excitement in his hawk-nosed profile illuminated by the glowing fire that crackled distressingly warm at her back. The child risked a hasty glance over her shoulder, making sure the flames stayed confined to their grate.

One princess shall perish to snow or to flame…

She never kept a fire in her room, though Mama always fretted. But she liked how the cold soothed her and lulled her to sleep. And if she wore the gloves, how could she protect herself from the terrible heat? What if one night, Frigg's night, it killed her?

Papa reached for her tiny hands with thepair of white kid-gloves. She held them stiffly at her side.

"Elsa –"

"How do you know?" She whispered. "Maybe I can learn to control it without them. I did that before." Papa sighed and dropped his hand. Though she knew the fire extenuated the dark swatches under his eyes, she also knew he was tired. Was his sleep as troubled as hers? Was it her fault he smiled so little nowadays?

"We have to try something Elsa. Your mama and I thought it would best. You want to keep your sister and your friends safe, don't you?"

"Yes but –"

"Then be a good girl and put on the gloves."

It certainly seemed like a joke.

"Are you alright, Elsa?" She flinched away as Captain Thorn gently brushed her shoulder, eyes pinned like a dagger to his.

"Fine. I'm fine."

Captain Thorn nodded, rifling a hand through his hair, slipping down to rub his neck, and if Elsa hadn't known better, she'd have thought he was nervous. But that wasn't possible. "So, do you like em'?"

She wanted to tell him. How they were perfect. How silk never scratched or caused an ugly rash to color her fingers red like wool, leather, and linen.

How he was kind, and thoughtful, and –

Elsa.

It was not to be.

"They're exquisite." Evasive, Elsa murmured, pasting a rehearsed smile to her lips. One that Captain Thorn returned with no small amount of smug satisfaction as he swept the door aside for her and they headed down the corridor.

"I thought you'd like them."

For some time, they continued on, him carrying on with his easy compliments and heart-stopping grins and she in every appearance seeming unaffected. Wryly, as she shed the last layers of body heat to keep the flush from her skin, pleased as she caught sight of herself in a window and saw her skin was once again a sheet of ice, Elsa wondered if her parents would have been proud of this victory, small as it was. Or would they have found it eerie her inability to blush, to so easily manipulate her emotions to suit her motives. Would her illusion of perfection only emphasize the lie? The lie of a insecure child playing make believe in her mother's old dress, however well the high sable collar emphasized her lithe neck. How the fluid teal skirts nipped at her tiny waist and flared out just enough to fill in her boney hips. They hid her too-thin figure, the tattooed marks of her curse inking her shoulders and neck, her curse itself.

"Pardon me Highness. I believe I need a word with one of my subordinates." Captain Thorn said, prompting her from her ever darkening thoughts. She spared him a glance and followed his gaze to young man, another guard nervously avoiding their scrutiny as he watched the locked doors of the ballroom, frozen in a low bow.

"Oh course Captain Thorn."

Though he looked the embodiment of a proper guard, she couldn't help notice the playful twinkle in his eyes, shooting her an apologetic look coupled with another wink she pretended not to see, giving her heart an opportunity to harden once more. Bowing and spinning of his heel, he strode off towards the guard with no small amount of swagger in his jaunty step.

"Lt. Frode." He called, sounding every bit the soldier he was. For a moment she watched him, admiring the way his broad shoulders tapered into a slender waist at a perfect triangle and just how well the cut of his uniform emphasized the muscular physique beneath. Guiltily, she tore her gaze away.

Fool. A voice taunted. Moon-eyed fool. Ogling a bare-chested man from your window doesn't him yours. Enough.

With their attention elsewhere, Elsa slipped into an alcove created by the drawn crimson curtains of a protruding window. Hunching she stripped her fingers of the leather, cringing as a web of frost played across her exposed skin. Quickly, the new gloves replaced the old. The relief was instantaneous, as pleasing as ice cold water across her chapped hands. Watching the miniature gemstones glittering in the sunlight, Elsa couldn't help but note how lovely the light turquoise went with her coronation gown. In secret, she was touched. His laughter, his kindness, she didn't deserve that. It was worth more to her than the gloves, beautiful as they were. But to the world stage she must be apathetic to his flirtations, mustn't lose her head. These feelings were just the remnant, excess emotions from a girl's crush, nothing more. She must understand this, like an actress understanding her lines. Her act must be perfect. She had a show to put on. And she had no choice but for it to be flawless.

Outside, on the window ledge, a raven alighted, its back to her. Disarranged feathers dull and filthy, the poor thing looked more dead than alive. As if hearing her thoughts, the creature fluttered, spearing her with its beady eyes. Cheeks blanching, Elsa drew in a horrified gasp, springing back and darting from the curtains. Hearing the commotion, Captain Thorn and Lt. Frode whirled, gripping the pummels of their swords.

"Everything alright Princess Elsa?" The boyish lieutenant asked, eyes round and wary. Her bodyguard studied her with furrowed eyebrows.

The...the bird. It...it -

"Y-yes." The look Captain Thorn gave her made it clear he didn't believe a word she said.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." She nodded forcefully, gulping, casting a glance to the window. Mercifully, the terrible thing was gone. "I'm fine thank you. Please don't let me disturb you, gentlemen."

"Actually we were finished Your Highness. Sorry to keep you waiting."

"I'm sure it was justified." He crossed an arm to his shoulder.

"Thank you for your understanding Highness. Shall we head to the chapel now?" At this his eyes crinkled, his expression mischievous. Was he insinuating...

"That would be acceptable, yes, thank you."

"Excellent." Clapping his subordinate on the shoulder. "Thank you for your input Lt. I'll keep you updated should anything change."

"Yes Captain Thorn." The man mumbled. Chuckling and shaking his head, the captain returned to her side, extending his arm. "Shall we?" Nodding tightly, still shaken, but not taking his sleeve, Elsa continued down the hall. With a sigh, Captain Thorn followed.

"Hey, is everything alright?" He asked lowly. "You looked pretty upset back there. Something wrong?"

"No. I'm perfectly fine."

"Liar." Captain Thorn made to nudge her shoulder, but she hastily sidestepped him. He grinned teasingly. "You may want to consider taking lessons from me, love, because from what I hear, lying's a tradition in the high court's of Parliament, and I'm a master in the ways of deception."

"No, thank you." Hands held up in defeat, he consented.

"If you say so. But if you're ever in need of me, I'd be happy to obliged."

Elsa felt the fine hair on the back of her neck rise. A wave of fear saturated her body from head to toe, and she suddenly felt as though she was being watched. Cold expanded down her back. Glossy as caramel, Captain Thorn's voice faded into the background.

Don't be ridiculous. The raven was likely diseased. You're overreacting. From the corner of her darting blue eyes, she saw her bodyguard shiver. Her head throbbed.

You're overreacting Elsa. She repeated. It's nothing. Nothing to fear.

But try as she may, the young queen-to-be could not seem to rid the image of the black bird, the bird with dead white eyes, from her mind.

[A/N: Because I updated this chapter, I decided to update my A/N considering the last one was me throwing a pity party. Eventually I told myself to suck it up and get over it so here we are. The magic tattoo idea is from an original story by yours truly. And our raven friend is back. Gave him a name in edited ch.4 - Mortuus (pron. more-TOO-us). Interested in its meaning? Go to Google translate and translate it from Latin. That being said Iulia is pron. YOO-lee-ah. Just in case you were wondrin'.

Anywho, to WinterKnight2104: My thanks for your constructive criticism. I have a bad habit of throwing in too many beats between speakers which I shall be working on.

And for you, my dear readers: My most heartfelt gratitude. Your support is touching and I thank you for it. If you feel so moved, please review and critic. But most importantly share ideas. I'd love to hear your thoughts.]