Mysterious Woman
Mr. Hyde stalked the misty streets in silence, cane tapping on the ground and an icy smirk on his lips. He walked with a limp, no thanks to his would-be victim stabbing him with her high heels. His leg was bloodied, but he'd been able to tend to the injuries. He'd picked up some things from his time as part of Jekyll. The girl who had stopped him from taking another victim… It had been the woman Jekyll and the foreign prince vied over. Louise… She was a beautiful creature… Jekyll had taste it would seem. Perhaps he should start to trace her movements as well… Would Jekyll still have her after she had been tainted by him, he wondered? He darkly chuckled at the thought.
"Edward Hyde, I presume," a voice said from near at hand. Hyde, smirk still plastered on his face, glanced in the voice's direction from the corner of his eyes. A figure was standing by the river, bathed in moonlight though his features were impossible to see. Hyde paused but didn't answer. "Do you wonder how I know you?" it asked.
"Not in particular," he replied.
The figure was quiet, examining him. "What does the name Southern Isles mean to you?" the figure asked.
"Spoilsport princes," Hyde answered.
"And that's all?" the figure asked.
"They're nuisances. Little more. Ask me what the name Jekyll means to me now," Hyde said.
Silence. "I've come to make you an offer," the figure soon said.
"Mmm hmm?" Hyde replied.
"Your counterpart given into your hands, the girl he fancies at your service, and those nuisance princes in the grave," the figure stated.
Hyde was quiet. "A bargain if ever there was one," he finally replied. "The price?"
"Your allegiance and help in my cause," the figure replied.
"If that all then? Tell me, what is this 'cause'?" Hyde pressed.
"The wicked mirror made whole again, reformed inside a mortal shell. I am Carabis, hybrid son of a troll and a sprite. I am the one who forged the corrupting mirror long ago and whose foolish minions carelessly shattered it in the sky and scattered the shards the world over."
"Is that so bad? It seems it causes much more chaos the way it is," Hyde replied. "It seems as though your intent to put it back together may in fact be a good one."
"For a time I was content to watch the seeds of dissention it sewed. Now, though, my ambitions for it are much greater. When it has been put together again inside of a mortal host, that host will become my vassal and spread my influence wheresoever I wish him to. Kingdoms will fall. The world will fall," Carabis replied.
"Who will this host be? Not me I should hope," Hyde said.
"I have set my sights on the youngest prince of the Southern Isles. But I am not alone in this. At my side there is a wicked bear who goes by the name of Mor'du. He seeks another to whom he may pass his age-old curse. His sights too are on the youngest prince of the Southern Isles, but this is not an inconvenience. It is perfection. Once I have put the mirror together again within that prince's body, there will be nothing left of the man and all that will remain is his mortal shell, completely taken over by the mirror… But that shell will not stay mortal, for once the mirror has been put together inside of him, he will not be able to fight what he was anymore. He will ultimately choose power over family. Once he has, the curse of Mor'du will pass to him. The mirror of corruption locked inside an unstoppable beast that I can use to my will," Carabis said.
"Why that prince in particular?" Hyde wondered.
"Because he is of the perfect mentality," Carabis replied.
"An enemy turned friend will remain so to the end," Hyde stated. "Some old proverb from somewhere or other. You're too late, fae. He's already beyond your reach."
"He wants to believe he is. Everyone wants to believe he is. But he is not mentally sound, nor will he ever be. What once was will be again, you'll see," Carabis said.
"And how often have you tried to bring what once was out again and failed?" Hyde bit. He could practically feel the anger starting to radiate off the faery creature. "I thank you for your offer, wicked hobgoblin, but those who make deals with the Fair Folk rarely come out of them unscathed. I am perfectly capable of defeating my own enemies by myself. I need no help from delusional hybrids and their pets." A furious roar, enraged, echoed out over the town, angry enough to send a shiver down Hyde's spine. The roar of a bear far, far away... Rather than cow him, though, it only seemed to excite him. "Good luck in your endeavors, but I will not be made another of your minions. Or is it you, Carabis, who is the minion? Either way I will not be part of your fruitless nonsense. I am well enough on my own." With that he walked away from the enraged creature, not even turning back when it shouted after him then finally resorted to threats. Hyde just kept walking and tapping along his way…
Frozen
Hans looked at the woman in the coach with them in disbelief. She was a stunning thing he had to admit, but frankly he was more impressed with her hardiness. She'd weathered an onslaught of stabs and was still standing. Tired and in pain, but alive and eager to return home. Louise was coming along with him and Jekyll too. The woman, Sophie, was examining him. "Is something the matter?" she asked warily, noting his scrutiny.
"Marvelling, Miss Orsted, at your endurance," Hans replied. "I'm frankly amazed by you. In a non-romantic way. I'm married." Smooth cover, he dryly told himself, but he'd realized a bit late how flirty his first remark could have otherwise come across, so had had to do some damage control. He already had Dickens' eldest daughter crushing on him. He didn't need further unwanted romantic attention.
"And if you weren't?" she asked.
Hans smirked. "Perhaps," he admitted. She smiled back at him in amusement.
Hans looked out the window. He'd had no shortage of interested parties since stepping away from his identity as the worthless thirteenth prince, to focus more on his identity as a writer. The moniker of Hans Christian Andersen felt more like his real name these days than Hans Christian Westergaard did. He was almost tempted to legally change it. Since he'd begun to focus more on his identity as a writer, as him, he'd started mingling with people more often and making friends and connections instead of spending his life feeling sorry for himself and trying to fit a mold he'd never even truly wanted a part of. Perhaps if he'd been able to melt his own frozen heart, he would have married one of those could-have-been love interests, but he doubted it. It didn't really matter anyway. As it was it had taken Elsa to break the frozen, empty husk that others had called his heart. He would never have been able to do it alone. His smile slowly fell. Gods he wanted to go home to her…
"This is it," the woman, Sophie, soon said. The carriage came to a stop and the four of them climbed out. Jekyll approached the door, but before he had reached it the man inside raced out.
"Sophie!" he cried, taking the woman into his arms and holding her tightly, visibly trembling.
"Papa!" she replied, hugging him tightly back. The man quickly ushered her inside. He didn't shut the door behind him, but he didn't invite them in either. Hans was the one who finally entered first, taking the lead. Given his hierarchal standing, he was most entitled to do so anyway. Jekyll and Louise could follow his lead as the highest authority figure between the three of them.
Sophie and her father talked rapidly in Danish. Hans translated for Jekyll and Louise. It basically came down to the man asking his daughter questions about what had happened and Sophie answering them. Then there was some fighting, then crying, then expressions of relief and such, then her father was ordering her to sit and rest while he discussed the matter with the three who had come with her. Sophie did so. Louise went over to join her with a slightly timid smile. Jekyll and Hans stood still as the other approached.
"You are the man who saved my daughter's life?" Mr. Orsted asked.
"Miss Collins saved her life. I merely kept her breathing," Jekyll answered.
"If keeping her breathing can count as 'mere'," the man dryly replied. Hans smirked, deciding he liked this fellow.
"I am Dr. Henry Jekyll," Jekyll said. "The young woman with your daughter is Miss Louise Collins. Dr. Orsted, I've read your work. I'm frankly in awe of it. I was actually a doctor of science before I was a doctor of medicine. And still am."
"Henry Jekyll? Yes, I've read some of your works, especially your analyses of the human psyche and the behavioral sciences. It's so wonderfully in depth! How ever were you able to reach such comprehensive conclusions and theories?" Dr. Orsted replied.
"It's… complicated," Jekyll replied, grimacing a bit. He looked to Hans. "And this, Doctor, is Hans Christian Andersen, the famous author. Hans, this is Hans Christian Orsted. Doubtless your brother Rudi has spoken of him much."
"He has. I never thought I would meet you in person. My brother will be so jealous," Hans replied, smiling at the man and offering his hand, which was firmly clasped.
"Hans Christian Andersen? I'm a huge fan of your works! You speak to all ages and classes and your personifications and parallels, your ability to make a comprehensive and symbolic story out of almost anything, are the stuff of legend! And similar names besides," Orsted said with a laugh.
"I must admit, I've not met another Hans Christian before," Hans said, grinning. "But then I'm not really much of a people person. Generally."
"Your story The Ice Maiden was astounding," Orsted said.
"Thank you. I actually took inspiration from the life story of a friend of mine," Hans replied, smiling. Namely Kristoff. Also personal experience, but good luck explaining that one.
"Personifying the feeling of vertigo. Who would have ever thought of it but you?" Orsted asked, grinning.
"You flatter me, Orsted," Hans replied with a laugh.
"Hans, please," Orsted said, smiling.
"Then I extend you the same courtesy," Hans said. "I wish I were so familiar with your work, but other than the basics I'm afraid I know little of such things. My brother Rudi could probably speak to it for hours, as could Dr. Jekyll no doubt."
"It's fine," Orsted replied, smiling. "It's not everyone's cup of tea after all."
"I would be interested in learning a bit about it sometime," Hans said. "It sounds like it could be interesting."
"We shall have to exchange information then," Orsted said.
"I agree," Hans said.
"So, what role did you play in my daughter's rescue?" Orsted asked.
"None I'm afraid. I played bodyguard on the carriage ride here. Little known fact, and one I'd prefer to keep under wraps, but I'm actually quite proficient in weaponry," Hans said.
"Fascinating. You should teach me a thing or two sometime. We'll exchange lessons for lessons," Orsted said. Hans chuckled, nodding. "Sit down, both of you. Stay for a meal. It's the least I can do to thank you for saving my daughter. I insist." They consented to do so and settled in...
Frozen
"Two weeks. He said he was staying for two weeks," Catherine Dickens hissed at her husband in annoyance.
"After the thousandth time you badgered him for a solid response!" Charles whispered back angrily. "He told you the first time you asked that he was unsure of the time frame. Why couldn't you have just left it at that? He's having a great many issues at home and he's my friend, Catherine. For goodness sake, it's not like he's been useless around here!"
"He's been next to it," she hissed back.
"You certainly started to warm to him after you learned he had a close friend who was a banker. Moritz Melchior, as I recall," Charles replied. Melchior had actually turned out to be quite the decent chap. They'd run into him quite by accident on one of their nightly outings and learned he and Hans were friends. Moritz had been vacationing here. Hans had been thrilled and the man was a riot, so they'd all warmed to him too.
"Two weeks, Charles. Two weeks. It's going on three!" she retorted.
"What is your problem with him?" Charles demanded.
"I don't like the way our daughter acts around him," she replied.
"It's a school-girl crush! He's never once even considered reciprocating," Dickens replied. "Listen, he won't be here forever you know. Just until things are a bit more stable for him. Put up with him a little longer, will you? For me?"
Catherine sighed in annoyance. "Fine," she relented. "But if he's here very much longer, so help me!"
They heard the front door open and looked quickly over. Hans came into the room and paused on seeing them close together looking annoyed with one another. "Uh, am I interrupting something?" he asked.
"You always are," Catherine replied, moving away from her husband who glared after her in annoyance and gave a frustrated sigh.
"Am I missing something?" Hans asked.
"I'm afraid I haven't been giving her the attention she deserves," Charles replied.
"If you want a night in, just say the word," Hans replied, shrugging. "It's really fine, Charles."
Charles shook his head. "I'm sorry for her lack of hospitality, Hans," he said.
"She's been really good about it so far. She deserves to blow off a bit of steam," Hans replied. "I mean, I'm sticking around a pretty long time for a houseguest. Even you're bound to be getting annoyed by this point."
"I suspect I will be soon, but it'll probably be mostly due to my wife," he flatly replied.
Hans chuckled, smirking. He wasn't so sure, but he'd roll with it. "Seriously Charles. If you want a family night say the word and I'll go find something to do. Maybe check up on Jekyll, possibly show Kristoff, Erik, and Francis some of the sites, etcetera."
"Tonight too soon?" Charles asked.
"Wow, you are sick of me," Hans replied, chuckling.
"No, Hans, it's not that. Just feeling a little guilty is all," he replied.
"It's fine," Hans replied. "I don't know what time I'll be back. Maybe I'll stay with someone else for the night, but we'll see."
"Thank you, Hans. Be careful out there, though. Hyde is still on the prowl, as far as I know," Charles said. Hans nodded. "So… I saw you in the papers. With Hans Orsted and his daughter Sophie. I've seen you in them a few times now. Most often photographed with the woman. You and she seem… close."
"We hit it off, admittedly," Hans replied with a sigh. "Dammit, I'd hoped the papers wouldn't make this such a big deal. Her rescue and all that. And really, why picture her with me? I literally did nothing to help aside from be an escort to the carriage that brought her home. The stories focus on the right details, but the pictures don't. Do they even know my name?"
"No, and it doesn't matter anyway to them. A Danish celebrity's daughter is rescued from certain death? It's going to hit the papers. They've had pictures with her and Louise, and pictures with her and Jekyll, but always you're in them and at her side I notice, because the stories like to portray you as the mysterious, nameless protector hired after the fact to defend Orsted's precious daughter from those that would harm her in future. They focus more on that unimportant detail because frankly this is the age-old romantic fantasy drivel people just love to eat up. Not only do you and Sophie look stunning together—a picture perfect pair on the surface, practically made for one another—but you fit the bill of hero better than either Jekyll or Louise does. You're the unnamed foreigner, handsome, strong and young, with a sword and pistol at your hip at all times and intense eyes that blaze like the sun when angered."
"You're flirting Charles," Hans teased, smirking. "Perhaps your wife was right to worry."
"Hush you," Charles replied with a smirk, nudging him. His smile fell. "Really though, it's true. Louise is honestly nothing special. She's pretty enough, but she could well be any young woman on the streets with the courage to try and protect someone in distress, and that encompasses most women I would think. She's a spitfire who can throw a mild to good punch here and there, but what kind of exciting hero is that?"
"A unique one I should think. The girl doesn't get enough credit," Hans said, frowning. It could be her sex working against her, but it wasn't like outstanding women hadn't been recognized before. They often were in fact! Quite frankly he could name probably a few dozen off the top of his head if he cared to recall his history lessons. "Even still, what of Jekyll? He's handsome and mysterious."
"He's a mild-mannered doctor with a pleasant smile. Middle-aged, not youthful like you. Nor is he particularly exciting on the surface. He doesn't walk about with a pistol strapped to his hip, a sword at his side, and probably a dagger stuck somewhere in his boot or on his leg; probably both, for good measure," Charles said.
"There was… a lot to worry about on the Southern Isles," Hans said, grimacing and blushing in slight embarrassment.
"Mmm hmm. Foreign man, common doctor; weapons expert, expert at taking someone's temperature; young man, middle-aged chap; world explorer, homebody. You see of course what I'm getting at," Charles said.
"Point made," Hans said with a sigh. Superficially he was certainly the most exciting one.
Charles smiled. "Go on your way then, Hans. Prepare for your night out. Good luck out there," he said.
"To you as well, Charles," Hans replied with a rueful smile.
In Orkney
What had started out as an overnight stay in the Castle of Orkney had extended itself into two weeks. Three weeks, probably, since Hans had left Arendelle. The princes had become totally engrossed with watching the knights take back their ruined home. They'd been moved to see their dedication to the seemingly hopeless project and so had offered manpower and help as a show of respect and admiration. Their situation was a never in a lifetime experience! Dark Age knights returned to the mortal coil and attempting to restore living history, a location pulled straight from storybooks no less? It was utterly astounding to see and be witness too, and Hans would be green with envy when he learned of it. Franz and Iscawin, however, were getting restless. Iscawin because he was worried for Hans, Franz because he was missing Louise and kind of had some explaining to do to her. Though maybe he should just not mention the whole drunken night with a knight thing. There was no guarantee anything had happened anyway!
"Why do you want to go through me to ask for leave?" Dinadan asked curiously when faced by the anxious-seeming Franz and Iscawin.
Franz and Iscawin exchanged looked then turned back to him. "Because Lot's intimidating?" Iscawin lamely answered, more question than statement.
"Pfft, Lot's a pussy cat," Dinadan replied. "I think there's another reason."
"Well, I did want to say goodbye, but hey, would have done that anyway to everyone," Franz replied.
Dinadan looked like he was about to throw out a lecherous line, but before he could Iscawin stepped in. "We want to seek out our brother ahead of the others and we don't want Mordred to know," he said plainly and seriously. Dinadan immediately sobered, entering serious mode. "He's always with Lot. You know how to approach him without Mordred around. Others do too, but you and Franz are buddy-buddy," Iscawin added. Menw would have been a great option, except almost nonstop for days, he and Lars had been practicing shapeshifting, Menw teaching Lars all sorts of tips and tricks.
Dinadan glanced cautiously around before turning back. "Okay. I'll do it. Expect a summons from him in short order. Likely in the evening after Mordred's down for the night."
"Thank you Dinadan," Franz said, bowing with Iscawin.
"A 'thanks' with just words?" Dinadan though out, making a half-pass. Franz chuckled and walked away with Iscawin.
Sure enough, about an hour after Mordred would have gone down to bed, Franz and Iscawin were summoned to Lot's throne room, one of the most solid rooms in this castle and one of the most restored. "You hardly needed my leave to go," Lot said to them. "Don't let this place fool you. This ruined castle is little more than aesthetics. I'm no king. Not anymore."
"Consider it a sign of respect," Iscawin replied. "Anyway, we… we don't know the way."
"I'll show you," he answered. "There's a map of the islands as they were in my day. Whether time has changed their positions I can't say, but hopefully it should do you enough good that you can find your way to the mainland." He rose and went to a table upon which sat a few scrolls. He took one of them and rolled it out, scanning it over. "A miracle these haven't rotted to nothing," he murmured half to them and half to himself as he scanned said map. Franz and Iscawin approached him to look as well, curious.
"Landscape has changed more than I would have thought," Iscawin remarked. Not a lot, but enough that he noticed a difference.
"This is the safest route to the mainland," Lot said, tracing a route with his finger that wound through a few islands. "It seems like it wouldn't be the shortest, but it is. The lack of hazards and the currents, assuming they've stayed relatively unchanged over the years, make it so."
"We should maybe get Jurgen to sail us to the mainland. He's the best sailor we have. Comes from his years playing pirate," Franz said.
"Being a pirate," Iscawin corrected. "The last thing he was doing was playing at it."
"There were pirates among the Round Table," Lot mused with a reminiscing smile.
"Seriously?" Iscawin asked.
Lot hummed in confirmation, nodding. "Lamiel of Cardiff was among them, the captain of the ship. The Rose of Cardiff it was called. Unstoppable it seemed. Until it came across the Prydwen."
"God that ship was beautiful," Iscawin said, ruefully recalling seeing the outstanding piece of craftsmanship dying in the docks. He'd honestly wanted to bring it along with them just so it wouldn't be left to rot there, but if it hadn't rotted over the thousand plus years it had sat in that place, something was preserving it that way. It was still sad to see it sat all alone like that. Hans would have drooled all over it, he joked to himself. Jurgen had certainly been doing so. He was fairly sure all that kept him from stealing it was his respect for the Knights of the Round Table.
Lot nodded. "You should be on your way soon," he said. "The tides will be just right in about an hour. That's when you're best suited to leave to get there fastest."
"Thank you, your majesty Lot. You and your company. Except Mordred. That kid is creepy. And a pain," Franz said with a cheeky smirk. Lot frowned at him, unimpressed, and rolled his eyes.
"You realize his constant questions are typical of any child, correct? Most of them weren't even about Hans," Lot said. "When your baby grows up, you'll be getting a lot more of them than that."
"Children are pains. Got it. How do you explain the creepy now?" Franz challenged.
"Years of mental, physical, and intimate abuse, haunting memories of a past that still wakes me up screaming or in a cold sweat, need I go on? What makes it creepier to you than me is probably the location we're in. An abandoned castle in ruins doesn't exactly help make his sleepwalking or night terrors any less horrifying to witness either. I warned you people that he sometimes walked in his sleep. And warned you not to go wandering the halls at night."
"You don't forbid us from doing stuff! We're bound to do it then," Franz protested.
"More your faults than mine," Lot replied, shrugging. "Incidentally children also say creepy things sometimes, so you'd best get used to it now before your own child is old enough to do it."
"He told Runo that he wanted to take his face off and wear it like a mask," Franz flatly said.
"They were rough-housing and tough-talking one another. Your brother told him he'd remove his arms and legs and stuff his remains in a turtle shell," Lot said.
"I woke up to him hovering above me just staring," Franz said.
Lot chuckled. "He had charcoal in his hand that he hid behind his back. He was going to color your face and maybe try and shave your beard off as a joke," he said. "I was aware of it and observing it in secret."
"Keep that little crap away from blades! Especially blades used around the face," Franz protested. "And tell him to keep his hands off my beard you traitor!"
"What about the song he was singing one night when I was walking passed his room?" Iscawin asked.
Lot's smile fell and he visibly tensed. There was a beat of silence long enough to have the two princes shifting slightly uncomfortably. "What song?" he finally and darkly asked.
"Uh… I-I can't remember how it went. Something about darkness from the deep carrying him away? And loyalty?" Iscawin replied.
Lot was dead quiet. Finally he rolled up the map, placed it back where it came from, and turned to them. "You'd best prepare for your journey. You're on a time limit for the best time to leave," he said. "Now if you'll excuse me." He walked passed them rapidly, obviously with a destination firmly in mind. He moved at too quick a clip for their liking. "Mordred?!" he called out as he went. "Mordred!" The two brothers exchanged uncertain looks, not entirely sure of what the reaction meant. They just knew it wasn't good and they didn't like or trust it. They should probably alert Caleb to the strange reaction so that he could keep an eye on what this mysterious song apparently meant to Lot and to Mordred.
Frozen
As they sailed away from the island, Franz and Iscawin looked back at the castle and frowned slightly. It almost looked like no work at all had been done on it, which was impossible, but from this distance it almost appeared like it was just as decrepit as when they'd come. "Weird," Iscawin said in a measure of suspicion, voicing both their thoughts.
"I'm not even going to think about it," Franz said, shaking his head hopelessly. "Hard enough to take in the fact literal Knights of the Round Table, not some posers or rip-offs, are here in the flesh."
"Is it in the flesh?" Iscawin cryptically asked.
"We could feel them, so yes," Franz answered. "This isn't some ghost tale, kid brother. I don't think." Iscawin gave him a dubious look but let it go. Soon enough they would be on the mainland, then they could take a train cross country and be in London in hopefully not too long. They assumed that was where Hans was, at least. It was their best bet given the size of that hub. Their other brothers would join then probably about a week after they arrived, if not sooner depending on how unsettled they became. "I can't wait to see Louise."
"Here I thought your concern was over Hans," Iscawin said with a sigh.
"Pfft, kid brought it on himself. Now he can eat it. Louise is my priority now. Hans isn't in our hair anymore. Washed our hands of him after he married Elsa and started his own little family unit."
"And yet all of us still remain a family unit even after marriages and childbirths and all that," Iscawin replied sounding triumphant enough to annoy Franz but give him no argument he could make. Instead his older brother frowned at him, unimpressed, and threw up his hands hopelessly.
"Fine. I'll try and concern myself with Hans' well-being. After I've concerned myself with Louise's," Franz said.
"How are you going to explain the night with Dinadan?" Iscawin teased.
"I'm not. That never happened. No guarantee anything did anyway," Franz replied.
"Dishonesty Franz, tsk, tsk, tsk," Iscawin replied.
"It's not dishonest! I'll… tell her he spent the night one night. If we bring up the Knights of the Round Table at all," Franz replied. He grew a bit more serious. "This isn't some small thing, Iscawin. Ancient knights come back from Avalon walking upon Britain's soil once more? Scotland, more specifically? You have any idea the kind of stir that would cause? It may be in not only our best interests but theirs as well to never, ever, ever mention their existence. To anyone. Talk inevitably spreads, and the more people who know the faster it will do so. The last thing they need is legend hunters trying to hunt them down. Or the age-old search for Camelot being kicked up a notch. Or treasure and fortune seekers searching for ancient treasure troves and ruined castles that have no business ever being brought to light again… The book closed on that time and place long ago. It was blotted out and torn from the pages of history for a reason. It may be best we not challenge what that reason was."
"Probably the reason was to spare the land being ravaged by treasure seekers ripping it up searching for what had no business being found. Knightly tombs and the like. Perhaps also to spare Camelot itself from being reduced to a tourist attraction or ruined by vandals or fans wanting to take home a piece of legend and stealing stones from the very walls until nothing was left," Iscawin said. "The knights that survived Camlann probably just wanted that past to be left alone to rest in peace and allow time to do whatever it would. It was probably Constantine—that was the one who succeeded Arthur I think?—who forbade historians from publishing anything about that time and ensured all references to it were utterly wiped out. It appears he couldn't bring himself to completely erase them from memory, though. Just locations, events, things like that. Time and repeated retellings of the legends, born of no solid evidences and just hearsay, corrupted the truth enough that it made it impossible to know for sure what really happened and when anyway. If anything ever did."
"Apparently it did, or we wouldn't have seven knights torn from legend hosting our brothers in a decrepit palace forgotten by time and never found," Franz said, shrugging.
Iscawin chuckled, nodding. "And for their sake, those knights, you're probably right in saying no one should ever be allowed to know. At least not the full truth of it," he said.
"Precisely," Franz said. "So, dishonesty is all that I can offer Louise regarding them anyway. Maybe I'll say something about it, but only after swearing her to complete secrecy. Even then it would probably be bare-bones basics if anything." Iscawin nodded in agreement and the two settled in for the voyage to London.
Arendelle
Elsa gave a cry of pain and discomfort. It seemed lately she'd been getting a lot more of this. She half believed her body sensed he wasn't there to soothe the cold when the baby acted up, or to soothe the pain when her back started to hurt or she got cramps. She was miserable and cranky and in pain and… and she felt so, so guilty… She kept replaying their last argument over and over and over again in her head. The more she replayed it the more anguished she felt. It had gotten to the point where she almost wondered if he would ever come back at all… Even if she sent for him, would he come? She groaned softly in pain, curling up on herself with tears threatening her eyes at another wave.
"Elsa?" Anna's voice called in concern as her sister knocked.
"You can come in Anna," Elsa replied.
Anna entered, looking concerned. "Are you alright?" she asked.
"No," Elsa replied, shaking her head. "Will he come back?" she asked, sounding more unsure than she wanted to.
"Of course he will, Elsa. He loves you. All you have to do is send for him and he'll come. You know that," Anna replied. "No matter what the British papers say! I mean…! Oops."
Elsa started and looked over at her sister. "The-the British papers? What are they saying?" she asked. "How did you even get one?"
"Um, uh, w-well you-you see… K-Kristoff went with Hans when he left, and he's been sending me letters and paper clippings about things that are going on and, um… It's nothing, Elsa, really!" Anna said.
"What are they saying, Anna?!" Elsa demanded, pain momentarily forgotten in wake of her sister's concerning words.
Anna, blushing bright red, grimaced and reluctantly handed some papers over. Elsa snatched them and her heart dropped when the first thing she was a picture of Hans standing very close to a beautiful young woman with a caption beneath it saying: The hired help or something more?
She was utterly silent a beat, digesting the statement, then quickly snapped her eyes to the article, starting to read through it. Normally she'd be more concerned with this apparent murdered on the prowl in her husband's place of exile, except the papers kept dropping references to how handsome a couple her husband and this lady she didn't know were, and the hints questioning whether a marriage was in the cards for the future. Which was of course preposterous! He wouldn't do that to her. They hadn't divorced, had they? No, she hadn't signed papers. Had she given him the impression they were through though? Her heart sank at the thought. No, no she hadn't! He knew that, right? And even if he didn't there was no way he would have rebounded so quickly!
"He's doing great for himself!" Anna said. And immediately realized it was probably the wrong thing to say. "I-I mean, not like that. Just… he's okay! And that's great!" Elsa handed the paper silently back, looking more miserable than before. Anna winced. "Elsa, he loves you," she said, sitting at her sister's side.
"You weren't there for our last fight," she replied. She'd heard, but wasn't there.
"It doesn't matter. No relationship is perfect or without argument, and if any are then either it's a miracle or they're both extraordinarily laid back or they're doing something wrong," Anna said.
"I know he loves me. I'm not insecure in that, Anna… But the picture still hurts a bit," Elsa said. "Not because of her but because…"
"Because he's not here with you… You haven't even seen his face for weeks until just now. You miss him," Anna gently said. Elsa was quiet. "Send for him, Elsa. He'll come back. He'll leap at the chance."
"Maybe I'll…" Elsa began.
"Queen Elsa!" Kai exclaimed, pounding urgently at the door and cutting her off.
"Kai, what's wrong?" Elsa asked.
"You must come quickly. A mysterious woman has been found lost and alone and confused. No one knows where she came from or how she could have even gotten where she was discovered. It's like she was just… there," Kai said.
"The Ice Maiden?" Anna asked in some measure of concern.
"The Ice Maiden would have no reason not to come to us directly," Elsa replied in a measure of concern. "We buried the hatchet, or at least that's how I understood what happened between us. She's not our enemy anymore. I hope." She looked back to the door. "I'll receive her in the throne room, Kai. Just give me fifteen minutes to get presentable."
"Yes, your majesty," Kai replied, leaving.
Elsa got off the bed and noticed the pain had subsided to at least a tolerable level. "Help me Anna, quickly. This could be something big." Anna nodded and hurried to help her sister get ready to receive the unknown woman.
Frozen
Elsa sat on her throne with Anna at her side, both waiting to receive the mysterious woman that had been found. "Where is she?" Elsa asked the Captain of the Guard.
"She was imprisoned in the dungeon, majesty," he answered.
"You had her imprisoned? On what charge?!" Elsa demanded.
"She claimed to be the queen," he replied. "Such a claim can be construed as a threat against you and your rulership, if it is not insanity."
"Where was she found?" Elsa asked.
"In the mountains, barefoot and cold and clothed in royal robes that she could not have come by honestly. It looked like she'd stepped from a history book. The men asked her who she was, where she'd come from, and how she'd come by the garb. She claimed she was the queen, she claimed she'd come from the Byzantine Empire of all ridiculous things, and she had no answer as to how she'd come by the clothing other than she'd arrived with them, which made no sense to anyone. She seemed a madwoman to the men who found her, so they arrested her on suspicion of theft and of conspiracy against the crown, and they brought her here to be incarcerated until you had the opportunity to judge her for yourself."
The doors opened just then. Anna gasped, starting. Elsa sat up straighter, blinking in shock as a bound young woman was led into the throne room, clothed in precious little. It seemed like the guards had thrown some scraps of cloth at her right before bringing her out! Elsa was quiet as the woman was dragged forward and pushed to her knees in front of the throne, looking scared and unsure of what was happening. After a moment Elsa said, "Those aren't royal robes, captain."
"No. They aren't," he replied, sounding suspicious and unimpressed as he glared at the men who'd brought her in dangerously.
"They were taken from her, sir," one of the guardsmen said, sounding agitated and uncomfortable. "She was stripped of the raiment and given prisoner rags to wear."
"Prisoner rags that certainly shouldn't be so torn in such specific places leaving so much exposed!" the captain snapped sharply.
"When she was given the rags, they were whole and untorn. When we went back down for her, the leggings had been taken and what was left of the rags were like this," the guardsman agitatedly stated. "She was chilled and terrified when we went down to her. She claimed men had tried to defile her but couldn't pick them out, as she hadn't seen their faces clearly. They'd tried to blindfold her. They stopped when she claimed she had a husband who would take their heads if he should ever learn of such a dishonor done to her. Madmen and madwomen are often considered to have no rights and barely any humanity. They are vulnerable people, usually uncared for, and often no one gives a damn what happens to them, so the belief is that whatever injury or wrong is done to them can be gotten away with. She was a beautiful, vulnerable woman, unknown and uncared for, the sort of woman no one would believe. So, she became a prime target for her would-be attackers. When she claimed to have a husband, though, whoever had tried to act against her determined they were better off safe than sorry and stopped."
"Find the worthless bastards who tried to do such a thing to her and throw them in prison for the rest of their miserable lives!" Elsa snapped, punching the arm of her throne and shooting to her feet practically on fire, infuriated at this story and flushed red in rage. She wondered, briefly, how much worse her husband would have reacted to this... He'd know how to root out the perpetrators. She... she wished he was here to do just that... "And get her something to wear, goddammit!" she added. The guards scrambled instantly. Elsa took a few calming breaths and sat down, shaking in anger and willing herself to get her temper in check again. Anna looked equally enraged and went to the woman furiously, draping the cape she was wearing around her. Elsa inwardly cursed. If this woman was indeed a queen like she claimed, this could be a political nightmare for Arendelle thanks to whatever idiots were responsible for this outrage. She'd hand them over happily to this woman's husband to deal with, if the woman spoke truth about being royalty. She didn't relish facing it alone.
Frozen
Soon the woman was clothed in something a little more concealing. An underdress Gerda had found for her. Her hands were cut free of the ropes and she winced, massaging her wrists. The guards took up their stations along the sides of the throne room in case of threat, but otherwise seemed to fade out of existence with only their captain at the head with Anna and Elsa. Kai and Gerda also were present and visibly concerned with the happenings.
"Are you alright?" Elsa asked after a moment.
"I'm… well enough," the strange woman answered.
"Were you injured in any way? Were the men who attempted to… harm you, at all successful? Even in the most miniscule of ways?" Elsa asked.
"Bruises where bruises have no business being," the woman answered.
Elsa would guess that meant the thighs and legs and probably the breasts and buttocks. "I assure you, I will do all in my power to ensure they don't get away with this madness, this-this criminal outrage."
"My thanks, my lady," she answered, curtseying to Elsa.
"Now, let's start at the beginning. What is your name?" Elsa asked.
The woman was silent. "Soredamer," she finally replied. "My name is Soredamer."
"Where are you from?" Elsa asked.
The woman, Soredamer, shifted. "I was born in Orkney."
"She means of course that she was born on the Orkney Islands in Scotland," Kai spoke up. That was its more common name these days.
"Yes, there," the woman said. "I… I married a Greek man and moved with him to that country."
"My Captain of the Guard claims you said you were from the Byzantine Empire?" Elsa said. "Why did you use that term? The Byzantine Empire hasn't existed since fourteen-fifty-three."
She was quiet. "I was afraid, and Empire sounded more impressive than the name of one country," she answered finally, though she sounded a little shaken at the statement.
"You claimed to be a Queen," Elsa said. "But I know who the king and queen of Greece are. You aren't them. Otto and Amalia are their names. Bavarian, I think? At least he is? I'm not entirely sure."
Again silence. "I was afraid, and what higher rank to pull to spare myself dishonor than Queen?" this woman, Soredamer, finally replied.
"You claimed to have a husband," Elsa said.
She let out a shaking breath, bowing her head and closing her eyes painfully. "His name is Alexander, or Alisander. He responds to both. They're interchangeable," she replied after a moment.
"Is he with you?" Elsa asked.
"No," she replied.
"Where is he then?" Elsa asked.
"I… I don't know…" she finally replied. "We were separated from one another. He doesn't know I came looking for him. I tried to reach your kingdom to ask for help in finding him but was accosted along the way."
"They said you were in royal robes… Where did you get them?" Elsa asked.
She was quiet. "They were a gift. From him. He was wealthy enough to afford them straight from a… museum, you call them."
"Do you really believe I'm buying a word of your story?" Elsa asked.
She didn't respond a moment. "Your majesty, the whole truth would be more unbelievable still. Then you would also believe me mad," she said finally. "The whole truth isn't a matter I will discuss with you either. Not where so many ears are present."
Elsa was quiet, considering the woman's words and her next actions. "Are you a thief or usurper?" she asked finally.
"No," the woman, Soredamer, replied immediately. "I don't want your throne or crown."
"Explain to me the robes you were wearing," Elsa said.
"Relics of the Byzantine Empire," she answered. "My husband procured them for me. That was the truth. He has connections."
"Why did you choose to wear them here then, where they would be so out of place?" Elsa asked.
"I can't answer that here and now," the woman replied.
"And I can't risk an assassination attempt so I'm uninclined to send away my guardsmen, as you can well imagine," Elsa replied, though she could put a stop to probably most any attempt on her life on her own given her powers. Gift, Hans called them… Still, she wanted to try and get to the root of who this mysterious woman was. Again she found herself missing her husband. And his ability to reflect the truth of what you were...
Soredamer examined her a moment then seemed to realize something. She smiled slightly. "You're pregnant," she said in a breath. Elsa was utterly still. "I understand your apprehension now… I had a child once…"
Silence. "Had?" Elsa finally asked, sounding a little more timid than she wanted to.
The woman nodded. "A son. His name was… was Clegis," she said.
"What… happened to him?" Elsa asked, sounding almost afraid to know.
Pain came to her eyes. "It's a long story," she replied. She looked at Elsa. "If I can find no help here from you, in finding my husband, then please my lady, let me be on my way so I can continue my search for him. Don't lock me away. I'm not mad, I swear I'm not."
Elsa was quiet and unsure. She believed the woman, yes, but the question was should she believe her? "I want to know the whole story," she finally replied. "However complicated and unbelievable it may be… Just you and me and my sister, I promise it. Kai and Gerda can…"
"Kay?" she asked, seeming to perk a bit up at the name. She looked over at the man and seemed to deflate a little. "Oh. Apologies for the interruption, majesty." Kai raised a curious eyebrow at her, intrigued now. "If you trust them, they may stay as well," she said.
"Then at dinner we…" Elsa began.
"The Duke of Weselton is in Arendelle still, Elsa. He'll be dining with us too," Anna reminded.
"Is he trustworthy?" the woman asked.
"These days he is," Anna replied.
"Where is Weselton?" the woman asked.
"Um, it's a little kingdom somewhere between Britain and Germany, I think?" Anna replied. "The Duke is of Prussian—that's German I think—and British descent."
"I'll cancel and we'll do breakfast with him instead," Elsa said.
"Let him come," Soredamer said. They looked over at her curiously. "He's probably the one among you most likely to believe anything I say," she added. Elsa and Anna exchanged looks, not sure how they felt about that statement. If she thought the Duke was more likely to believe her than either of them? It was strange, to say the least.
"Very well," Elsa relented. "Kai, Gerda, bring her to a room and settle her. Help her find something to wear that's more than an underdress. I'll give her the benefit of the doubt."
"Yes your majesty," Gerda replied, bowing to Elsa. She went to the young woman. Kai followed with her. The three left the throne room leaving Anna and Elsa to try and puzzle all of this out and determine what to think of it all.
Frozen
Soredamer walked with Kai and Gerda quietly. Her eyes strayed to Kai. "You have a name well-beseen," she remarked after a moment.
He looked over at her, raising a curious eyebrow. "Well-beseen? That's… archaic," he remarked.
She shrugged. "Kay… It was the name of one of the best-known and strongest knights of the Round Table. Two, actually, though the second was lesser known. That one was Kai le Strange, spelled with either a C or a K… Kainus was his full first name, again with either a C or a K. The better known was Kay le Seneschal. King Arthur's foster brother."
"You're well-versed in Arthurian legend, my dear," Gerda remarked. "Have you studied it?" If she had, it was indication of a higher education which meant she was likely aristocracy, if not the queen she'd claimed to be.
"I… You could say that," she replied after a moment.
Quiet. "I've always been fond of my name," Kai replied. "I'm well aware of its connotations. I used to read those legends often as a boy. Among my favorite stories."
"Stories… Yes…" she replied quietly. She didn't speak again.
Frozen
"She's strange, dear duke. We're not sure what to make of her," Anna said, walking arm in arm with the old man as she accompanied him to the dining room. "We're kind of freaked out, honestly. And her insistence you be there was weird, especially when she said you were probably the most likely to believe her story when she tells is."
"Should I be offended?" the Duke asked, raising a dubious eyebrow at Anna.
"No! No, I didn't mean it like that! Really," Anna replied.
The Duke looked unimpressed but let it slide. "Well, we'll soon see what this poppycock is all about I should think, but I don't like this. Not one bit."
"Hold off on the judging da," Anna teased, smirking. "Maybe you'll like her. She'll probably be there already by the time we arrive. Her and Elsa and Kai and Gerda."
"Let's waste no time then, dear girl," the Duke said. "Onward!" He peacocked his way towards the doors, leaving Anna behind. Anna blinked then smirked amusedly after him before following.
The Duke of Weselton entered the dining room. "I have arrived!" he declared loudly and proudly.
"Dear Duke, welcome," Elsa said, smiling at the man as he strutted towards his place, Anna following him and going to sit in her chair. The duke was just about to sit, having pulled out his chair, when the woman spoke…
"Daniel von dem Bluhenden Tal," she said simply. The duke froze in place before looking over at her, giving her an odd look. "I was reading… People say he was a character created by a German family who wanted a claim to the legendary knights, or something like that. A figment of their imaginations… He wasn't… He was real, good duke. So, so real…"
The Duke was quiet, staring at her. "I always suspected as much," he finally said, sitting cautiously and warily down. "The name Daniel appeared in legend long before that claim."
"He was a good man with a good heart. A heart too large for his own good it seemed at times," she remarked, grinning slightly but not looking up from her balled hands, where she was resting her forehead. "He was so shy. You never knew how kind and gentle he was until you really got to know him, and then you could see it. It was openly displayed. I oftentimes would joke with my husband that… that if I hadn't been wed to him, I would have wed Daniel… He would tell me that if he hadn't been interested in women, even he would have gone to Daniel after he'd gotten to know the sort of man he was."
"Who's Daniel von dem Bluhenden Tal?" Anna asked.
The Duke was quiet. "Daniel von dem Bluhenden Tal was a Knight of the Round Table," he finally answered. "The brother, some believe, of Sirs Dinadan and Brunor le Noir. A German hero, among the least well-known knights of the table round outside Germany… She speaks, of course, as a fan of the character. She thinks that if he'd been real, she would have liked to marry him. Correct, my dear?"
She looked up at him. "He was real," she answered. "And I knew him by name."
Quiet. "You're mad," the Duke finally said. "Well-read for a madwoman, though, to know of Sir Daniel."
"Murdered by Lancelot who realized too late who he was. It's debated whether Lancelot killed him during his madness or killed him believing him an opposing knight," the woman said.
"What is your name?" the Duke asked.
"Soredamer," she replied.
The Duke was utterly still. "Why are you quiet, dear duke?" Elsa asked.
"Soredamer was… was the daughter of King Lot of Orkney in Arthurian legend… Married to the knight Alisander, or Alexander, le Ophelin I believe. The Byzantine Emperor in said legends," the Duke answered. "Sister of…"
"Sirs Gawain, Gaheris, Agravaine, Gareth, and Mordred," she said. The Duke paused. "Daniel was a good man," the woman, Soredamer, mused after a moment.
"Arthur would have settled for no less," the Duke replied. "Mordred notwithstanding."
"My brother was not the monster he was made to be! My brother was a victim as much as anyone could be a victim. Of our mother," she said.
"Morgan?" Anna asked. She had limited knowledge of Arthurian Legend, but Morgan was a name that was tossed around pretty freely.
"Is that what they say?" Soredamer asked with a sharp laugh. "It would be my mother to somehow manage to push the blame onto her sister and go on unscathed in her reputation and the like. Morgause, or Anna, was the name of my mother! Make no mistake, Morgan had issues like you wouldn't believe and was ultimately a wretched woman on par with her sister; but in the end, despite all her antagonistic behavior towards her brother king and the Knights of the Round Table, she died at peace with my Uncle Arthur. Morgause lived and died hating him. Even if she was portrayed in the sweetest most blameless fashion possible, it would still boil down to a grown woman sleeping with a teenaged boy! The reality was worse of course, for instance he wasn't even a teenager when it happened, but even the best-case scenario leaves her a woman not worthy of being remembered or honored or defended by anyone! I'd be more inclined to extend the mercy to Morgan, and Morgan was a nightmare come to life, more powerful and physically dangerous than even her sister could have ever hoped to be!" Mentally not so much.
Frozen
"She's mad," Gerda finally dared speak up to Elsa in a murmur. "The soldiers were correct in their assumption. This woman believes she is a character from Arthurian legend of all things. If that were so, she would have died upwards of a thousand years ago."
Elsa was visibly unsettled and almost inclined to agree with Gerda, but she had promised to hear the woman's story and so hear it she would. "You need to start explaining yourself, stranger. Now."
After a moment Soredamer looked up at them. "I am the Soredamer of legend," she said plainly. "And my husband is the Knight and Emperor Alexander, member of the Round Table. And he is not alone in his existence in this era. Six others are with him. My father Lot of Orkney, Sir Menw, King Arthur's cousin Hoel, King Arthur's foster brother Kay, and Sir Dinadan… And Sir Mordred… He was who they came for…"
"She's mad," Anna said with a sigh, agreeing fully with Gerda now. Kay nodded solemnly at Elsa.
"She may not be so mad as that," the Duke of Weselton spoke up. "Some believe Arthur never truly died. Or any of his knights. Some complicated mess involving goodness knows what higher powers. A common legend is that one day Arthur would return from Avalon in Britain's time of great need to rule again. He and his knights."
"Except Britain isn't in great need," Anna pointed out. "And there's no Arthur mentioned in the company."
"Speaking of the company she mentioned, it alone tends to make me believe she may be telling the truth. Strange things do tend to happen around you girls. The selection of knights she brings up is random at best, not a company most anyone would think up let alone a madwoman who, in theory, would more likely name bigger features in legend than the likes of Sir Menw and Sir Hoel and Sir Alisander. Lot, Kay, and Dinadan I can see, Lot very tentatively, but the other three? And why Soredamer of all women? There's no such account of that selection in a madwoman! Guineveres yes, Morgans yes, Iseults yes, but Soredamers?" the Duke said.
"Are you saying you really believe this, Weselton?" Kai asked.
"I'm saying we shouldn't cast it aside as out of the realms of possibility. For goodness sakes, Hans and his brothers traipsed the underworld and brought back souvenirs to boot in their two children! And in a fairy bride of all things for Runo," Weselton said.
"And he mentioned Avalon," Elsa said. "Briefly. He said little more than 'we met King Arthur's company' before moving on, but he mentioned it nonetheless."
"So what are we supposed to do? What questions are we supposed to ask?" Anna whispered.
The Duke of Weselton turned to the woman once more, who was looking very nervous now. "Who is this woman's husband?" he asked, pointing at Elsa.
Soredamer blinked before looking at Elsa. For a moment she was quiet. "One of the thirteen princes who came to us in Avalon, I believe. I… think it was the youngest? His name was, oh what was it? Um… Oh! Hans! His name was Hans. He spoke of you so fondly, majesty."
Elsa was utterly still, as were the others. "How… how do you know that?" she finally said.
"I've answered you. He came to us in Avalon. The Grim Reaper led them there… They told us of Mordred…"
"What?" Elsa asked, tensing slightly.
Soredamer frowned a moment. "He… didn't tell you, did he? None of them did. They didn't tell you anything."
"They-they said they had gone to Avalon and met King Arthur's company," Elsa said. "He said nothing about Mordred. How could he say anything? Sir Mordred, from what I understand, was killed in the Battle of… Oh what was it?"
"Camlann," the Duke of Weselton said, now utterly intrigued. "He died with Arthur, killed at one another's hands."
Soredamer was quiet. "Has he… spoken to you much? Of his dark past?" she asked after a moment.
"Yes. He becomes more and more open about it as time passes," Elsa replied.
"Did he mention a… a child? A child he spared the life of once, long ago?" she asked.
Elsa was quiet. "He told me of the murders of an infant's parents. How he couldn't bring himself to kill the infant and so placed him in an orphanage and never let his father know he'd done so," she said.
"Did he tell you also that he named that infant?" she asked. Elsa was quiet neither confirming or denying it. She was starting to get an uneasy feeling about where this was going. "He named the child Mordred," Soredamer said. "He didn't know, then, just how right he was to name him so…"
"What are you talking about?" Anna asked. "How is this even possible?"
Soredamer bowed her head sadly, grief and pain in her eyes as she remembered. "What they did to him, how they cursed him… It was wicked and cruel and vile, and it wasn't fair! My baby brother wasn't the only one to blame, he wasn't! Why did he need to pay such a steep price? He was a victim too! He was a victim too… But they didn't care. They didn't want to hear it, and so he was punished with life. Doomed to awaken in another time, in a foreign place, and live a life not worth living and die in agony and hatred and despair and guilt! Then do it again. And again. And again… And we never knew when or where, and he never knew either, just one day he would be there in Avalon and the next he would be taken or be gone, and he suffered all over again… Then the princes came… They came, and they gave us the answers we sought. They knew where Mordred ended up this time, though they weren't aware they knew… And the knights heard of it, and they told your husband that he had doomed himself when he spared Mordred's life, because with that action he became Mordred's surrogate Arthur, and from that day, from the day Mordred was old enough to realize what had happened to him and who had done such folly to him, your husband was marked and Mordred was plotting his revenge and Hans' death."
Elsa paled. "What?" she asked in a breath.
"But we realized that-that maybe we could stop it. We could stop the cycle from repeating, stop Mordred from suffering, deny his fate and prove to ourselves and to him and to the powers that be that he still has a chance! And so a deal was made, and Arthur was allowed to send forth a company of knights to walk upon the earthen soil again and try to stop what will otherwise be when Mordred comes of age. He's seven now, majesty. Fourteen is when Hans must start to fear, but he need not fear at all if we can reach Mordred and stay his course before it's too late for him and for your husband both! I'm not explaining it well, I know, they could explain everything better as could your husband and his brothers, but I'm afraid I'm all you have right now," Soredamer went on.
"What are you saying?!" Elsa demanded, rising quickly.
"That your husband is a marked man, that Mordred is an assassin in the making, that the Knights of the Round Table, a small number of them, have come back to try and save your husband's life and save Mordred from a fate he's thus far been forced to live again and again," Soredamer said. "I wish I knew more, majesty, but I don't. Perhaps your husband kept documents or letters or something that might shed more light on this Mordred situation. He and his brothers have doubtless been monitoring the situation since learning of it. He just… maybe he didn't want you to worry… Especially since he probably feels there's no guarantee evil will come of it. Especially not now that the knights walk the land again."
Elsa, lips parted in shock, tried to take it all in as the others gaped in horror and disbelief. "The letter," she realized, paling a bit. The letter he'd said he needed to reply to! She gasped and rose, racing from the dining hall to go into Hans' study and find that damned letter. And any others he may or may not have exchanged with his siblings about this matter he'd kept secret from her! Which he'd be getting an earful for let it be known. She darted into his study and to his desk and began searching every nook and cranny she could find while looking for any potentially hidden compartments. Soon enough she found one and immediately worked it open. She froze on seeing a small group of letters there. After a moment she snatched them up and looked for the one most recently sent. She found it and paused before finally taking it out and reading it through. As she did, she gasped, covering her mouth and feeling suddenly weak both from fear of her husband's safety and from empathy for what she was reading Mordred had suffered… She withdrew her hand from her mouth. How was she supposed to show this to Soredamer…? She swallowed tightly. The woman had the right to know… She had the right to know the life her baby brother had lived thus far… And what he was doing…
Long story short, the moment Soredamer read the letter grief overtook her and she screamed in pain and sorrow, collapsing into tears and sobbing, clutching the letter close to her. Elsa spoke no word. By the time evening came around, preparations were already underway that would see her making as soon as she possibly could for Britain to find Hans and confront him about this. And to see what he knew of Soredamer's family and friends!
…And to ask him to come home…
