Chapter 11: Friends, Family, and Favor
Please Review
Author's Note: Hey guys! I just wanted to thank you all for your support! My general plotline is already laid out, but the nitty-gritty details are pretty flexible. So, with that said, what would you guys like to see more of?
1. Flashbacks/Memories/Backstory about things in Valhalla?
2. More 'Present Day' scenes with Arthur, Elsa, Pabbie, and the gang?
3. Southern Isles politics?
4. Anything else?
Sound off in your reviews!
"Strength. Harmony. Justice. Mercy."
- The words of the Sentinels
Castle Arendelle - Present Day
Anna laid sideways, sleeping soundly on her plush mattress until a small voice invaded her slumber.
"Hey, Anna?"
The calling of her name woke her slowly. She tried to open her eyes, but could not find the strength to do so.
"Anna, it's me, Olaf."
Anna forehead creased in loose concentration. "Olaf?" she murmured sleepily. "Oh... what are you doing here so early?"
"It's been two hours past breakfast."
Two hours? She let out a tired groan and her eyelids pried themselves open.
Olaf was so close to her that his eyes seemed almost as big as moons. But perhaps what was more striking was that his pointy carrot of a nose, which was suspended only inches from her face. Bits of snow from the cloud above his head danced nimbly to the floor. Some landed on the violet bedcovers, but were reabsorbed by the snowman before they could wet the fabric.
"Good morning," Olaf peeped with a lopsided grin.
"Mmmph," Anna mumbled as she sat up and massaged her exhausted eyes. "Hey Olaf."
"Your hair's kind of a mess," the snowman commented with concern.
"Yeah it... it happen's all the time." She yawned.
Olaf looked at her sincerely. "Um, do you... kind of want to sleep some more? I can wait if you want."
"No, it's fine," said Anna. "I'm up." She waggled herself off of the bed and stretched her back. "Ooh."
"So, um," Olaf twiddled his wooden fingers, "what happened last night? There was a whole ton of like shouting and stuff. But the lights went out so I couldn't go inside to see."
Anna walked to her dressing table and picked up a brush. She turned to Olaf quizzically. "Wait, where were you?"
"Oh me?" He placed a hand on his torso. "I was at the stables, hanging out with Sven. Did you know he likes eating apples now?"
"Apples?" said Anna, trying to straighten out her hair. "Since when?"
Olaf doddered up to her side. "Well that new horse, what was her name? Mara? She eats a whole bunch of 'em, and now Sven's into it too."
Anna laughed and looked at Olaf through the mirror. "Sven and a horse?"
The snowman was perplexed.
"What?" he asked, flopping his arms up and down.
"Nothing," replied Anna, "I just thought it was funny, that's all."
"Sven and Mara?" Olaf frowned in confusion. "Oh, it's nothing like you and Kristoff."
"No, no, that's not what I was saying," giggled Anna. Her laugh turned into an annoyed grunt as her brush got caught in a knot of hair. With a great heave, she tugged hard and cleared it. "I was just thinking it was kinda cute, you know," she said, waving her brush around, "a horse and a reindeer as friends."
"Uh, well..." Olaf moved away from her and hopped onto a nearby chair. "So what happened last night?" he asked again, playing with his stubby feet.
Anna tilted her head as she continued to comb her hair. "Um, why don't you go ask Kristoff?" she said lightly.
"He said I should come ask you."
"Really?" Anna asked, surprised. "What about Elsa?"
Olaf shook his head. "Her bedroom door's locked, she hasn't come out."
Anna stopped brushing and looked at Olaf. "Did you ask her if you could talk?"
"I did," Olaf replied. "But she didn't say anything back.." Anna said nothing and faced the mirror, her mind troubled. It sounded suspiciously like what her sister often did before her coronation. After last night's incident, Anna feared that Elsa would start secluding herself again. And Arthur's request for her to join his 'war' had not helped much either. Hopefully she'll get through it, Anna told herself. She snapped out of her thoughts when she heard Olaf's voice again.
"Anna?"
"Oops," she responded, and continued to sort out her hair, "sorry Olaf. It's kind of hard to explain, a lot of things happened last night."
"Like what?" Olaf asked, spreading his arms out. "I'm all ears."
"Oh, nothing that dramatic or interesting," Anna replied, trying to sound casual. "Elsa just had some trouble with her magic, that's all. No biggie."
"Is everything okay, then?" Olaf asked.
"Yeah," Anna assured him, "of course. It's just..." She wiggled her shoulders as she tried to find the right words. "A passing thing, you know?"
"Well, that's good to know!" Olaf plopped off the chair and waddled toward her. "Are you gonna have breakfast?"
Anna clutched at her stomach. "I'm famished." She finished with her brush and snatched up a green ribbon from the dressing table, but decided against binding up her hair. I'll braid it instead, she resolved. A noisy clatter behind her made her swing around. Olaf was rummaging through her wardrobe.
"Olaf, what are you doing?"
"Here!" The snowman emerged triumphantly, holding up a dark red blouse in one hand and a pale green skirt in the other. Anna smiled and walked up to him.
"I can't go out wearing this," she laughed and plucked the clothes gently from his hand. "Why don't you let me choose the outfit, and I'll let you make my bed," she told him, putting the unlikely combination of colors back into the wardrobe.
"I don't think that's too good of a deal."
"Then go stand guard by the door. I need to get changed." She selected an olive dress and moved behind the panel screen. The opening and closing of her door told Anna that Olaf had followed her suggestion.
When she had finished, Anna made her way to the kitchens, with Olaf walking in front of her. She stopped as she passed by Elsa's room. Should I knock? she asked herself, her knuckles instinctively raised to the door. No, she'll be back to normal soon, she ensured herself and withdrew her hand.
She saw a servant by the name of Benjamin standing by the top of the stairway, clad in the standard lime-green suit, with a silken scarf tucked underneath. He bowed curtly in greeting as she approached. "Good morning, Your Highness."
Anna replied in kind. "Morning, Ben."
"Have you been rested well?" he asked her with a subservient smile.
"Yeah, I'm okay."
"And will Her Majesty be about shortly?"
Anna glanced at the corridor behind her. "Um, I don't know. She shouldn't be long." Somehow she doubted her own statement.
The man nodded, still smiling. "Very good, Your Highness."
She curtsied to him and proceeded down the stairs with Olaf. Around the palace, business resumed like nothing had ever happened. Servants were about as usual, chatting to each other as they polished suits of armor and dusted furniture and carrying bundles of laundry. As she crossed the hall, Anna could see that though it was well past the morning's mealtime, the Dining Room was bustling with activity. There were castle staff everywhere, carting assortments of food and wines into the kitchens. The noise in the room was tremendous. Trays and plates clanged against each other as servants called out to each other.
"What's going on?" Anna asked Olaf. The snowman shrugged.
"It wasn't like this when I left," he answered innocently. Anna looked around and spied Kristoff in a corner with Kai, who was holding an inventory list of some sort. She made her way towards them, ducking under a huge roll of velvet hefted by two servants. Olaf trundled behind her, glancing back and forth in fascination at the various items being transported around him.
"Kristoff!" Anna shouted above the din. The blond-headed Ice Deliverer's eyes perked up when he saw her. He spread his arms out and drew her in for a hug as she approached.
"Anna, you're finally up," he said.
"What's all this?" she inquired, scanning the roomful of busy servants.
Kai cleared his throat and put the inventory list aside. "We've just received a new shipment from Etalia for your birthday celebration," he explained.
"From Etalia?" Anna repeated excitedly. "Did you guys get what I wanted?"
"We got roast beef, roast pork, roast chicken, roast goose, roast everything," Kristoff told her with a smile. "And loads of strawberries. And chocolate."
"What about the ice cream?" she asked quickly. From behind, Olaf nodded in agreement.
"Yeah, what about the ice cream? Wait, if a snowman eats ice cream, is that sort of like cannibalism?" He scratched his stumpy hair and looked to Kristoff for an answer.
The Ice-Master grinned and shook his head. "I have no idea. But the ice cream did get here. We've already put it with the stuff I got from the North Mountain, so it should keep cold until next week."
"Awesome!" Anna yelled and kissed him on the cheek. It was then that Gerda appeared. She seemed to be one of the few servants exempt from taking care of the new items.
"Would you care for some food, Your Highness?" she said, folding her hands before her plump body.
"Yeah, I'm starving," Anna replied, still elated from the news.
"We have buttered pancakes, ham sandwiches, bacon, salads, venison from up North-"
"I think I'll have some pancakes," Anna decided. "Six. No seven."
"Seven?" echoed Kristoff. She flashed a smile at him.
"I'm hungry. Wait, and not lemon ones," she added.
Gerda dipped in a small curtsy. "I'll bring them right away, Your Highness."
As she left the room, Anna continued to watch the crates of food eagerly. Kristoff leaned over.
"Is your sister still in her room?"
Anna glanced sideways at him. "Yeah. She's..."
She looked at Kristoff, but the Ice-Master said nothing. She grabbed his hand.
"I'm scared she'll shut everyone else out again," she whispered. "I've waited so long for her and I to be like this. I just... hope things aren't going to be like they were before."
"They won't be," Kristoff assured her. He squeezed her hand. "Elsa's a strong queen. She'll pull through."
Anna smiled gratefully at him. "And we'll have each other."
He returned the smile. "Always."
Gerda returned and curtsied.
"Your meal is ready, Your Highness," she indicated the royal dais.
The princess gave Kristoff a quick look. "Go ahead," he told her, "I'll be with you in a second." Anna let go of Kristoff's hand and moved earnestly towards the steaming plate of hot pancakes on the table. She sat down, picked up her silver fork, and began to eat.
She was into her fourth pancake when she looked up, and saw a head of messy red hair sprawled on the dining table across from hers. Its unnatural tinge told her who it was immediately.
Arthur?
Anna stared at the foreigner keenly. He was sleeping. She beckoned to Gerda, who came over speedily.
"What do you need, Your Highness?" The servant asked politely.
Anna pointed at Arthur. "Why is he sleeping there like that?" she whispered.
"I don't know," Gerda replied, turning her attention to the unconscious man, "he's been here since dawn. But Grand Pabbie requested that he be left alone."
"Won't he wake up from all the noise?" asked Anna, still watching Arthur sleep.
Gerda shrugged. "Apparently not, Your Highness."
"Thanks, Gerda. Oh, and do you think you could help me get some honey? For the pancakes?"
"Right away, Your Highness."
Anna nodded her gratitude and continued to eat her breakfast, when Kristoff plunked himself down on a chair next to her with a grin on his face.
"Hey there."
"Hi," she replied, her mouth almost full. She waved her fork towards Arthur. "Did you notice him there this morning?"
The Ice-Master's eyes followed to where she was gesturing. "Arthur? He was sleeping like that when I got here. They wanted to wake him up, but Grand Pabbie said not to."
Anna cocked her head. "Why not?"
A voice from the back answered her. "Because he didn't sleep at all last night." Anna and Kristoff jerked around in surprise to see who was talking. It was Grand Pabbie. The troll dragged a chair around the table to sit opposite them.
"You scared us," Kristoff said as he breathed a sigh of relief.
"I need to talk, to both of you."
"Well, I need to talk to you," Kristoff told him, "about a lot of things."
"This is far more important."
The couple exchanged a look. Anna placed her fork back on the table and folded her hands in front of her.
"Okay, so what do you want to talk to us about?" But she already had the feeling that she knew.
Pabbie's wrinkled hands of stone appeared over the tabletop. He looked directly into Anna's eyes. "We need your sister."
Kristoff sighed and sagged his shoulders in a sign of disbelief. "Grand Pabbie-" he began, but Anna held up a hand for him to stop.
"Elsa's already said no," she told Pabbie.
"You need to convince her to change her mind," the elderly troll said firmly. "You need to help her understand."
"Understand what?" asked Anna.
"That this is very, very important," said Pabbie.
"You're talking about her going to war," argued Anna, "you can't expect her to want to do this. I don't want her to do this."
"I understand," Pabbie told her. "Truly, I understand. But Her Majesty must know this as well. This war is not a luxury, that Arthur or I choose to have." He leaned in close. "It will decide the fate of the world."
Anna shook her head. "She's already said no."
Pabbie grabbed her hand. "Anna, listen to me. I've saved your life. Do you not trust me?"
She looked at him with anguish. "It's not that, of course I trust you. But Elsa's the queen. She knows better than me, or Kristoff. We can't make her change her decision."
"You have to," Pabbie said.
"Why?"
"Because if Queen Elsa does not join us," he told her gravely, "we will lose this war."
The both of them were taken aback. "How?" Kristoff asked.
Pabbie released Anna's hand and sat back down. He showed his squat fist to them. "Arthur explained to you that there were four people who could use magic. Sentinels. The first is him." He held up a finger. "Fire. The second is Elsa. Ice. The third is me. Earth. But the fourth... The fourth is not on our side."
"Is he against you?" asked Kristoff.
Pabbie nodded.
"But it's two against one, even if Elsa doesn't help you," said Anna.
The troll shook his head. "It doesn't work that way. To kill one of the four with magic, you need the other three. Elsa, Arthur, and I all have to be there to fight, or we will never be able to defeat him. It is a constraint in magic."
"Then don't use magic," Anna shrugged.
Pabbie chuckled. "Perhaps you have only seen your sister's powers in action. I can tell you that they are the mildest manipulations that magic has to offer."
"She froze over Arendelle," she reminded him. Pabbie raised his eyebrows.
"Anna," he said, "this man cannot be killed by anything other than magic. He is much too powerful."
"You don't have to kill him," said Kristoff.
"We do. This man is the Sentinel of Air, and he has mastered his element. He can escape from any room, any shackle, any device. The man can become air itself."
Anna had never heard of something so ridiculous. "How in the world can someone do that?"
"There is an effect that comes with mastering your element," said Pabbie. "A hidden power, if you will. Earth's gift is to heal, whether from physical or magical harm."
Kristoff smiled. "So that's why you never told me how to do that."
"Fire is able to summon lightning. It is the fastest type of magic that can be used. Mastering ice will give you the power to create living creatures, as Elsa has been able to."
Anna frowned. "If she's already mastered her element, why does she need any training?"
Pabbie paused for a while. "Let us just say that she has mastered it the wrong way," he decided to tell her. Anna didn't know exactly what that meant, but she didn't argue.
"Air's final form," Pabbie said, "is the ability to dissipate. To morph into a a gust of wind or a ball of air and move about as one pleases. It is very fast, not as fast as lightning, but almost too fast for the untrained eye to see."
"So, why do you need Elsa to take him down?" Anna asked.
"The three of us must use our powers on him at the same time. I would be able to lock him in place using my own powers, but he would just break out quickly. Arthur must first disable him with lightning. But he cannot do so for long. We will need to eliminate him swiftly, or he will be able to slip out of our grasp with his powers."
Anna listened to his words until he was finished. When he was, she spoke softly. "You talk about killing him. But how could Elsa even do something like that. She would never hurt anyone willingly."
"This is much more than your sister," Pabbie told her. "This is more than me, or Arthur, or you, or Kristoff, or any single person. This is what will decide how generations of children will grow up, how hundreds of thousands of men and women will live their lives. This war is everything, and your sister has to realize that right now she is the tipping point in it."
She said nothing, and Pabbie sighed.
"Anna, do you trust me?"
"Yeah, I do."
"Then help me convince your sister. Both of you."
Anna still trying to wrap her head around everything that she was being told. This was on a scale she could not even fathom. This war was so distant, so far away. It was hard- no, nearly impossible, to believe that Elsa was in the middle of it all. But if what Pabbie said was true, and she had no reason to doubt that it was, then the Queen would have no choice. Elsa had to help them.
"Fine," she said. "I'll do it." She turned to Kristoff.
The Ice-Deliverer crossed his arms. "I'm not sure how much help I can be," he told her, "but I'll do it too."
Pabbie smiled at the two of them and let out a deep breath, as though a burden had been lifted off of him. "Thank you."
"I don't know if it'll be easy," she said nervously.
Pabbie nodded. "I understand."
Anna took up her fork again, but now her pancakes were cold. She put her silverware back down. She wasn't feeling hungry anyway. The task ahead of her seemed to loom eerily. How could she convince Elsa, especially now that her sister had locked herself in her room?
Something in the corner of her eye caught her attention. She turned her eyes to it.
It was Arthur. He'd twitched involuntarily in his sleep. Kristoff saw it too.
"Why's he sleeping over there?" Kristoff nodded his head towards the snoozing redhead. Pabbie turned around and saw Arthur.
"He is suffering from nightmares. Bad dreams. I've been trying to help him."
"What's causing them?" asked Anna.
"His memories," answered Pabbie, getting up from his chair. "They've been affecting him tremendously." He beckoned for them to follow him.
Kristoff rose from his seat, as did Anna. "Can't you just heal him?" the Ice-Master questioned.
The troll shook his head as he stepped off the dais. "Only time can mend this sort of case." He moved behind Arthur and placed a hand on his head. "He has seen things that I hope myself will never have to."
Anna and Kristoff approached the sleeping man as well, though a little more furtive than Pabbie had, as though they were afraid of waking him up. The troll seemed to read their minds.
"Not to worry," Pabbie said gently, "I've put him into deep sleep so that he can rest. He won't stir unless I use magic to wake him."
"He can't wake up? Is that dangerous?" asked Anna, peering over Kristoff's shoulder to see.
Pabbie shrugged. "It can be. But then again, almost anything can be dangerous, if used in the wrong way or in the wrong hands."
Kristoff's eyes widened in surprise as Arthur jerked again. The redhead murmured something softly in his sleep, but they could not hear what it was.
"What's he dreaming about?" Kristoff inquired. Pabbie closed his eyes and breathed deeply.
"His home."
The troll lifted his hand up and waved it, conjuring a misty image in the air. Kristoff realized what it was at once.
"Do you think this is right?" he asked. "To look into his dreams? Isn't that his private property?"
"Perhaps," Pabbie said, "but this is the only way I can help him."
"Are you going to change his dreams?" asked Anna, staring at the blurry motions before her.
"I cannot," admitted Pabbie. "But this will help to ease the pain within him." He waved his hand one more time, and the image became clearer, to reveal a glorious landscape.
A luminous night sky, with a pale, full moon hanging in the distance, and the call of crickets chirping serenely into the twilight.
Valhalla - The Inner Ring - 14 Years Prior
In the day, the rooftop would have been the color of autumn's leaves, a blend of apricot and darker red. But now without the sun's light, the tiles were only a gloomy mix of grey shades.
They were in the dark, with no lamp or torch. But that was not always a bad thing.
Gareth rested casually amid the neatly ordered slabs of painted stone, with his legs crossed in front of him, and his elbows supporting him as he leaned backward. His grizzly crimson beard swayed slightly at the soft blowing of the night's wind. Next to him, Arthur sat in a similar position as they watched the stars above.
"Can you name them?" the Sentinel asked his son. The young boy raised his finger up to the sky.
"The Great King," Arthur said first. "The one who guides the rest with his wisdom."
"And to which way does he point?"
"North. He always points North," answered his son.
"What else do you see?"
The reply came swiftly. "The Lady and Her Maidens."
"And what purpose do they serve?"
"They show us the way West, to home." Gareth watched the boy silently as he continued on. "And there's The Knight," Arthur said, "the one who guards the other stars with his his great shield, and with his sword points the way East to the Stormy Seas and beyond. Oh, and there's The Bear and her Cub, the ones that only come out in the spring and summer. The Horse runs South, where the lands are wild and free."
"And what is the last one?" questioned Gareth.
"The Sentinel, whose fire flows to the South, and ice grows North, and earth stands in the East, and air flies to the West." Arthur traced an imaginary silhouette of the constellation with his finger. "It reminds us that we are responsible for the four corners of the world, no matter where we are from."
"Very good," congratulated Gareth. "You've learned well from the sages."
"Six more months," Arthur said eagerly, "and Imperius will be fourteen. I won't have to study with him anymore."
Gareth lifted his arm and stroked his bearded chin. "You've said this many times. Do you really wish for it to happen?"
"More than anything."
The Sentinel of Fire sighed. He had tried to reconcile his son and the fellow future Sentinel, but Imperius had proved to be a stubborn and spoiled child. It did not help that Arthur hated his fellow student as well. The matter had been growing even more stressful for Gareth as of late."What do the sages think?" he asked.
"Sage Hakem says he wishes he could punish Imperius every day for the things he's done. One time he brought out a big wooden cane, but he didn't beat Imperius with it. He said it was a warning not to misbehave again. Sage Marlon is afraid of Imperius, though, and Sage Kyla is too. Imperius hit both of them with an air blast the other day, and even Sage Hakem could not get him to apologize."
Gareth listened intently to his child's words. When Arthur was finished, the Sentinel spoke up. "It seems as though you may get your hope sooner than you thought."
Arthur tilted his head in wonder. "Why?"
His father smoothed his hair in the summer breeze and smiled at his son. "Things have been getting tougher in Valhalla. So I've asked some friends of mine to come to the city and help me with my duties, to ease my situation."
Arthur's eyes lit up with happiness. "Does that mean we'll have more time together?"
Gareth reached over and ruffled his son's hair. "It means more than that. I've been thinking about training you myself from now on."
He grinned as he saw the beaming look on Arthur's face. "Really?" the boy said excitedly. "I get to train with you?"
Gareth rested back on his elbows again. "I've been the only Sentinel in Valhalla for a few years now. There used to be four of us, fighting crime and keeping order in the city. Now, being alone can be hard. When your time comes, you will be a Sentinel as well, alongside me and Imperius. But when I am too old to serve any longer, there will only be two of you."
"But that's still so far away," said Arthur. He spied something in the distance, and leaned forward to squint at it.
But Gareth had not finished speaking. "But it will come," he insisted, "and there are many things that I must teach you that the sages cannot. They will prove invaluable to you in the future." He paused. "What are you looking at?"
"Over there," answered Arthur, indicating with his forefinger. "Someone's coming this way."
Gareth could see it as well. Three torches blazed a small distance away, but they were approaching fast. He stood slowly and peered through the darkness to see better. There were three men on horseback riding steadily towards them on the path, and a smaller figure in their midst was saddled atop a pony. The Sentinel stared at them for a while longer, until he recognized who they were.
"Arthur, get down from the rooftop, and get dressed quickly."
"But I just got into my nightclothes," the boy complained.
Turning around, Gareth pulled him to his feet. "Do as I say. Look, they're almost here already."
"Who are they?" Arthur asked nervously. He was afraid that trouble was coming.
But his father's reply calmed him down. "Friends of ours. Now, go get changed. We've got to greet them. And hurry."
"Okay." Arthur leapt from the edge of the roof easily, slowing his fall with two jets of fire that sprouted from his feet. He landed comfortably on the ground, and ran into the house. Outside, he could hear the roar of his father's own flames as he thudded down himself. Arthur dusted his bare feet on the rug at the door and scurried inside.
The living room was already lit with a dim glass lamp, and now Arthur made a stroking gesture to blossom its flame brighter. Light bounced off of the walls, illuminating the entire house. He pushed open the door to his bedroom, and searched his wardrobe rapidly for something to wear. He pulled out a dark indigo vest and a white cloth shirt, and threw them on his bed. Then he proceeded to take off his nightclothes, while wrenching open his drawers for a good pair of pants and some socks.
As he slipped on his undergarments, he could hear the sound of hooves clopping by his doorstep. His father's voice rang out loud and clear.
"Welcome, good sirs!"
The smack of boots on soil told Arthur that the riders had dismounted.
"Hail, Lord Gareth!" A strong voice replied. "I am Sergeant Abel Fortsworth, at your service. And this is a member of my squadron, Marcus Holt. We were tasked with escorting the honorable Swordmaster of Highfell and his son to your residence."
"A damned fine job you've done then," Gareth said. As the adults continued to talk, Arthur finished up and hurried out of his room, clothed in expensive attire.
He stopped at the door. He had forgotten his shoes! He glanced back at his room. They must have been somewhere inside his chest of drawers. But his sandals were lying by the doorway, and Arthur slipped them on hastily. He shuffled out of the house, and saw two soldiers in armor standing in conversation with his father. Another man, clad fully in black, stood next to them quietly. Draped across his shoulder was a small blue cape that reached down to his waist, obscuring his left side. The blade of a sword protruded from his belt. Arthur had never seen him before.
But what caught his attention was a boy who was beside the strange man. He seemed the same age as Arthur, with brown hair and a pleasant-looking face. Who is that? Arthur stared at him.
His father swerved his head around and caught sight of him. Gareth's eyes drifted down to Arthur's feet, but he said nothing, instead giving his son a wry smile.
It was then that the soldiers stepped to the side, and the stranger spread his arms. "Gareth!" he exclaimed and stepped forward to Arthur's father.
"Fenris, it's been far too long." Gareth accepted the man's embrace. "You're late."
"How many years since Endwall? Ten?" His voice was heavily accented, but he spoke fluently enough.
"Eleven," Gareth corrected. He drew away from the man and looked at his son. "Arthur, this is Sir Fenris Marks," he beckoned with his head. "He is the Swordmaster in Highfell, and he will be here to help me preserve the peace in Valhalla. Fenris, this is my son, Arthur Halcyon."
"An honor to meet you, sir," Arthur bowed obediently to Sir Fenris. When he looked up, he found the man studying his face carefully.
"He has Mara's eyes," he commented, "I see some of her in him." He was silent for a moment, and Arthur felt uncomfortable. But then he laughed. "Where are my manners?" He gestured to the boy close to him. "Come, this is my son, Percival Marks, training to follow in my footsteps when he becomes of age. Percy, this is Lord Gareth Halcyon, the Sentinel of Fire."
"Milord," Percival ducked his head in respect, to which Arthur's father nodded in acknowledgement. He looked back at Sir Fenris.
"Did the others arrive as well?"
"Indeed, we are all here and accounted for. They rest now at the Tall Inn."
"All of them?" Gareth seemed surprised.
"We ran into no problems," answered Fenris, "everything went according to plan."
"That's a first."
The Swordmaster chuckled again. "It's been a while since we last met. Perhaps we're wiser now."
Now it was Gareth's turn to laugh. "Somehow I doubt that. Are you still wearing that fool's joke of a shroud?"
Sir Fenris checked his shoulder. "It grows on me, though in the summer it keeps a man too warm for comfort."
"Take it off then."
"I cannot."
Arthur listened to them as they spoke, but his gaze was focused on this new boy. Percival looked back at him with just as much intensity. He seemed tired, as though he had not gotten a good night's rest in a long time. But there was friendliness in his eyes, something that Arthur did not often see in other children here.
"Here," Gareth said now, "let us talk further inside. We have guest rooms aplenty, and you and your son are more than welcome to stay here."
"I suppose we could, for the night."
"We were instructed to return Swordmaster Fenris to his lodgings," one of the soldiers said. "But if you do not require us any further, my man and I shall retire to our barracks."
Gareth looked to see Sir Fenris' reaction. The Swordmaster nodded his approval. "Certainly. Thank you for your services, Sergeant."
"It has been our pleasure, m'lord." The soldiers saluted and pivoted on their heels, striding back to their horses. They mounted swiftly, and trotted away as Gareth jabbed a thumb over to the house behind him.
"Shall we go inside?"
"Yes, yes." The two grown men made their way over to the door, with Percival in tow. As Gareth passed by Arthur he tousled the boy's hair.
"Why don't you go talk to Percival? He seems like he could use some company."
Fenris seemed to think so as well. He spoke to his own son in a foreign language that Arthur could not understand, and Percival gave an answer which sounded affirmative.
"Good boy," Sir Fenris said. He gave Arthur a warm smile, and then followed Gareth into the house, leaving the two children outside.
Arthur approached the boy. "Do you speak the Common Speech?" he asked.
"I do," Percival replied. "We learn it in Highfell." He held an accent similar to his father's, though it was not as thick.
They already knew each other's names, but Arthur offered out his palm anyway, something that he had seen Gareth do often.
"I'm Arthur," he told the foreign boy. "Arthur Halcyon."
"Percival Marks. But you can call me Percy."
They looked each other dead in the eye and shook hands firmly. Percy peered keenly at Arthur.
"My father says that you and Lord Gareth are magicians," he said. "Wizards that can make fire."
"I can make fire," Arthur confirmed with pride. He snapped his fingers, bringing to life a bold gout of whooshing flame over his hands. Percy leapt back and shouted in amazement.
"Ygad!" he cried in his native tongue. Afraid that he had scared off his new acquaintance, Arthur whipped his hand down, and promptly ended his short-lived fire. Percy stared at him.
"That was incredible!" he said breathlessly.
Arthur grinned shyly. "Anything you can do?"
"I have a sword," Percy replied boastfully, patting something that hung on his belt. Arthur stretched around to see. It was a short sword, with a black leather handle and rounded guard. The blade itself was longer on one end, so that the end of the sword was curved. Arthur had never seen a weapon like it.
"Where'd you get that?" he prodded, observing with interest.
"It's mine," answered Percy happily.
"My father never lets me use a blade," Arthur told him with envy.
"That is because you have to deserve the blade," Percy said, slipping it out of his swordbelt and spinning it skillfully. "I call it Mora-Kamaha," he held it up into the air triumphantly, "Rat-Slayer!"
"Rat-Slayer?" Arthur echoed, trying hard not to laugh. "What kind of a name is that?"
"They are the only things I've killed so far," admitted Percy. "But I am training to be a Swordmaster like my father. One day I hope to kill a crook with it." He swung his sword out with ease to provide emphasis. "Then it will be called Mora-Raguso, Evil-Slayer!"
Arthur cocked his head. "My father says that not all criminals are evil. That's why we don't kill some of them."
"Maybe," agreed Percy, "but then I will kill the ones that are evil." He sheathed his sword back into its place. "By the way, do you have anything to eat? I'm starving."
"We've got lots," replied Arthur. "Do you like chicken pie?"
"If it's meat, I'll eat it," Percy shrugged. "Show me the food, good sir."
Arthur laughed and wiggled his head toward the house, signaling for Percy to follow him. As they went toward the door, he could not help but feel as though he had just made a friend.
The Southern Isles - The Royal Castle of Jur Rasaa - Present Day
His royal clothing draped around him, Prince Hans walked sullenly down the empty halls of his family's palace. Along the walls, the paintings of the old monarchs stared at him. Emperors or conquerors, warriors or lovers, holy men or murderers, it made no difference - he felt their accusing faces watching him as he strode past each one.
Hans the Unworthy, they seemed to whisper. He had his chance, and he failed.
The long line of kings and queens stretched for the better part of a minute's walk. The Southern Isles was not a young nation.
Hans reached the last portrait, a grand picture of his own father, King Nikolaus II the Glorious. The dead king's features were young, and his frame was strong, a marked contrast to the frail man he had been on his deathbed. Hans looked upon his father with disinterest. They had never spent much time together. When the man died they had taken his will to the crypts, and read it to the thirteen brothers there. Hans had received nothing. He had expected as such.
It was not his father he had stopped for, but his mother.
She had not yet passed, but she stood in the portrait nonetheless, next to her deceased husband, solemn-faced and loyal. Hans had always been her favorite since his birth, her youngest pup, the darling of the litter. Three of his older brothers had teased him for this, until Father had them whipped for their disrespect, one time for every year of their age. They had responded in kind by ignoring Hans, as though he had never existed.
They will grow up one day, his mother had told him, stroking his hair when he had come to her crying, and then things will be different. They will see the courage in you, and what a great prince you will become.
But now she looked back at him with emotionless eyes. Eyes of disapproval. Hans the Unworthy, he heard her voice join his ancestors'.
"Feeling sentimental, little brother?"
Hans jerked his head to see who spoke. He frowned when he saw who it was. "Otto?"
His older brother swaggered up to his side, his arms crossed. "I miss Father as well," he commented, looking the painting up and down. "It is a pity he had to leave this world so soon." He gave a sly smile and turned to Hans, "I wonder how he died."
Hans tried to ignore his brother. "He was an old man."
"Ah, yes, he was dying. But someone else was dying as well. Dying to take the throne."
Hans glanced at him with contempt. "You aren't making any sense," he said distrustfully.
Otto shrugged casually. "Father's demise was inevitable. He was bedridden, and oh so deathly ill. But Nikolai did not want to have to wait any longer." When he saw his brother's confusion, his grin widened. "And you know how our big brother is when he doesn't get what he wants. Someone had to relieve his restless spirit."
"What are trying to say?" Hans asked darkly.
"Favor," said the Trickster. He coiled his arm around Hans' neck, much to the younger prince's chagrin. "When one is so far down the line from power as we are, favor is everything. There was an opportunity, and someone had to take it."
"What the blazes are you talking about?" scowled Hans. He leaned away, trying to resist being so close to his brother.
But Otto seized him by the collar and drew himself closer. "I am talking about a rise to power," he whispered fiercely into Hans' ear. "My rise to power. It is time that you decided whether you are on my side or not."
At his words, Hans tried to yank away from his brother's grasp, but Otto was not finished. "Everyone else thinks that you have run your course, that you have nothing left to offer," he hissed. "But I think not. I think that you have potential, Hans. And you may not suspect it, but once I have gotten rid of Arendelle's Queen, I will be closer to the King's favor than any of our brothers. Even Fredrik and Balthasar."
His younger brother tore away and stepped backward. "If you are getting rid of Queen Elsa," he said vehemently, "why are you still here?"
Otto peered at him keenly, as though he could not believe Hans' words. He studied his brother's face. "You don't get it, do you?" He paused, seeing if Hans understood, but the younger man did not. Otto shook his head and laughed. "The deed has already been done," he said.
He waited for Hans to say something. But the disgraced prince made no sound. He only stared back, his jaw clenched. Otto could feel his brother's green eyes searching him, in an almost frantic fashion.
The Trickster held out his palm. "I will only offer this once." His voice was soft, but dangerously so. When he saw that his brother did not reply, he decided to say more. "I would be very careful choosing my friends from now on, dear brother. Once mother's time with us has passed... well, let's just say that there will be no one left to protect you."
Hans did not move towards the hand. "I will never serve you," he spat through gritted teeth.
The smile on Otto's face did not waver, but his tone turned frosty. "Suit yourself."
His smoothly cut black silken vest warped as he turned around abruptly, and strode away without another word. Hans listened to the arrogant crack of his boots on the hardwood floor and watched him silently as he left. But his mind was a whirlwind of frenzied chaos. The clockwork in his head spun in disarray as he repeated Otto's words to himself. Once mother's time with us has passed... well, let's just say that there will be no one left to protect you.
Damn you, Otto, he thought with loathing. He hated his brother, but in his heart he knew that his words were true.
Hans straightened his suit jacket and clenched his fists tightly. He knew what he had to do.
