Love Will Thaw

Chapter Twenty-Five

Invasion

The village was complete pandemonium. Citizens ran for their lives, desperately trying to escape the invading force descending from the sky. The palace guards were doing their best, but they were no match for the unearthly forces that assaulted them. Overwhelming the defenses, the shadowy army pressed through the village, determined to force their way into the palace.

Anna felt her blood turn to ice as she and the party reached the village. Her horror quickly turned to rage as she saw Arendelle's people—her people—running for their lives, innocent civilians falling beneath the invaders' blades. Before any of her companions could stop her, she brought her weapon above her head, rushing forward. "Get out of here!" she screamed. "Get out!"

"Anna, what the hell are you doing?!" Kristoff rushed to his wife, narrowly avoiding having his head severed as he caught the attention of one of the shadowy invaders. Without thinking, he kicked the attacker, knocking him unconscious with the hilt of his sword before he had a chance to recover. Gasping for breath, Kristoff pulled Anna back to him. "You're going . . . to get yourself . . . killed!"

"Well, I'm not just going to stand here and let them hurt our babies! Or our people!" Anna swung her sword, the blade moving unpredictably around her head. Kristoff dove to the ground, desperate to escape his wife's deplorably poor swordplay. "Come on!" Anna cried out, her eyes blazing. "You want a fight? You've got one!"

"Behind you!"

Élenway thrust her weapon forward, catching the sword that was mere inches from Anna's throat. With a flick of her wrist, she disarmed the attacker, quickly proceeding to sever his arm from his body in the same motion. Howling in pain, the shadowy figure retreated, looking for somewhere safe to recover.

"Élenway!"

Dernethbain's voice caught the Maíreth's attention. Whirling about, she felt a rush of panic as she saw sharp steel moving toward her throat. Everything seemed to take place in slow motion. She was amazed at how she could make out every detail of the sword, the stitching on her assailant's cloak. Despite her immortality, she was all too aware that she could experience pain—very, very intense pain—while she dwelt within this corporeal existence. Knowing she could not possibly react in time, she steeled herself, prepared for the onslaught of agony she knew was sure to come.

Her eyes widened in surprise and confusion as she saw her attacker suddenly stumble, falling to his knees. The head shrouded within its dark hood disappeared as a sword cut through the shadowy figure's neck. Astounded, Élenway looked up in surprise.

"That's four dinners you owe me now, you got that?" Underthen grinned at her, taking her free hand in his own. "Don't think I'm not still keeping track."

"Of course not." Élenway looked toward the palace, frowning. "These guards can't hold them off forever. V's soldiers are going to get in."

"What do you propose?" Underthen asked, wincing as a stream of fire from Alúvelin's hands flew by his head.

The Maíreth flashed a brief, confident smile toward the man she had she had come to regard as her indispensable companion. "You've always regretted not having confidence when you were younger, correct? Well, what if you tried this . . .?"

"Press the doors! Don't let anything through!"

Jurgen barked orders to his men, the newly-reinstated Captain of the Guard pacing about the hallway, his stomach filled with worry.

"Jurgen!"

Minister Andersen stormed through the hall, Elenórathem close behind him. He glared at the Captain, his face filled with fury. "How in the hell did you escape from your cell? Just what do you think you are doing?!"

"Sir, let me explain," Jurgen said, holding his hands up in a posture of surrender. "I make no excuses for—"

"Explain? Explain?!" Despite his aging countenance, despite his relatively short stature, in that moment Andersen struck a most intimidating figure. "There is nothing to explain! You are a traitor! You deserve to be executed for your crimes! Guards!"

The men at the door turned back toward Andersen, awaiting his command.

"Take this man back to the dungeon," Andersen ordered. He leaned in toward Jurgen, his eyes cold, his face stern. "I cannot wait until Her Majesty returns," the Minister said, his voice a chilling whisper. "It will be my pleasure to hear just how she plans on having you executed."

"Wait!" Andersen and the guards turned, surprise filling their faces as a familiar figure entered the room.

"You!" Andersen murmured, his eyes narrowing, his nostrils flaring in outrage. "You were supposed to be watching him. Did you let him escape? Did you?!"

"Of course I did!" Anlerusk retorted. "As much as I do not trust the good Captain here, the fact is that Arendelle is about to be overwhelmed with V's forces. We need every available man to defend her. Every man." He gestured toward Jurgen. "The Captain here has offered his services. He has expressed remorse for his behavior. Now, I don't know about you, Minister, but I am of the opinion that Arendelle is in a far better position with him fighting for her than if he continues to rot in the dungeon." He shrugged his shoulders. "Of course, it is not my decision to make. You are in charge, Minister. I leave the decisions up to you . . ."

A heavy pounding at the palace door sent loud vibrations echoing throughout the palace. Andersen shook his head as he realized the door would not hold much longer. Sighing, he turned to Jurgen.

"Very well. As much as I hate to do this, Her Majesty did place a considerable amount of trust in Anlerusk here. If his word was good enough for her, it is good enough for me." He took hold of Jurgen's collar, his grip tight. "But make no mistake, Captain. If you so much as look the wrong way, I will see to it that Her Majesty never knows you were even imprisoned here. I will use my considerable influence to place you somewhere so hidden, so painful, you will beg for death. Do I make myself clear?"

Jurgen nodded, hoping his expression conveyed the depths of his regret. "Yes, Sir," he responded. "I know I don't deserve a second chance, but I swear I will not let you down."

Andersen released his grip on the Captain. "Then what are you waiting for? You have a palace to defend. Get to work!"

Jurgen turned back toward the palace door. "I want three lines of men at the doorway. We must hold them off for as long as we can." He gestured down the corridor. "The rest of you, spread out. I need you defending the main corridor, as well as the other rooms immediately off its access points. If we cannot keep them from entering, we must keep them from advancing through the palace."

Anlerusk gestured to his men. "Erdren! I want you and your men to fall back into deep into the palace. If they get through the front lines here, you need to be there to stop them. Feel free to use any methods necessary. And I mean any. Make them think the entire palace is collapsing if you need to, but do what it takes. Understood?"

Another loud crack echoed through the palace, fractures beginning to appear in the thick wooden doors separating the outside world from the inside of the building.

Andersen looked at Elenórathem, his face filled with concern. "I think . . . I think now would be a good time to ask for their help. Wouldn't you agree?"

The Water Spirit nodded. "Indeed."

"Will they help us though?" The Minister looked at Elenórathem intently. "Will they give us their power?"

"They will listen to me," Elenórathem replied. "We are family, after all."

Andersen nodded. "Then, go! Hurry!"

"Just so you understand," the Water Spirit said. "I cannot control them. I can only ask for their assistance. Once they join the battle, they will be entirely—"

"I am willing to take that risk," Andersen said. "Now, go!"

The Water Spirit departed down the corridor. As she moved away, another loud assault on the palace door rang through the building, nearly sending the men behind the door to their knees.

"Hold firm!" Jurgen ordered. "Do not give in! Be prepared! Be ready!"

Anlerusk frowned as he looked at the door, noticing just how unsteady the wood appeared. Looking at Jurgen, he spoke. "I don't think—"

Before the drømme weaver could finish his sentence, the door shattered, heavy pieces of wood flying down the corridor. Screaming, men dove out of the way, covering their heads as they tried to avoid injury.

Coughing, Jurgen wiped the dust from his eyes. "On your feet!" he barked. "They are coming! On your feet!"

Screaming, the palace guards rushed forward, cold steel meeting cold steel, the clanging of swords filling the palace with its macabre music. The shadowy figures on the other side pushed and shoved, fighting to overcome the resistance, to invade the palace.

Andersen stood at the far end of the corridor, his stomach filled with dread. So. It has begun, he thought. Our last stand. We either win today, or Arendelle falls forever . . .

"V!"

Elsa tried to calm herself, to force herself not to panic. Unfortunately, that task was becoming more and more difficult with each passing moment. She strode through the doorway of the white chamber, and through the doorway of the next room, and the next, and the next, hoping that somehow the scenery would change.

It never did. No matter how many times she walked through the doorway, she found herself back in the same room. The exact same furniture. The exact same lighting. The exact same . . . everything.

It can't end like this, Elsa told herself, forcing herself to think, to make sense of her dilemma. It can't. There has to be a way out of here. Even V had to have made a mistake. Frustrated, she slammed her fist onto the table. What am I missing? What am I doing wrong?!

You're thinking too much. A voice sounded inside her head, calming her, guiding her. Meditate. Clear your mind, just like he taught you years ago.

Yes. Elsa felt her eyes roll up into her head as her lids closed, her fear, her anxiety leaving her. There was no attack, no threat. Everything happening outside of her was insignificant. All that mattered was what was going on in her mind's eye. Her thoughts diffused, disappearing from her mind, leaving her consciousness calm, undisturbed.

That's it. Now, look around. See . . . really see what is around you.

Elsa heard herself gasp involuntarily as she saw the room in her mind, the pure white of the chamber consuming her inner gaze. Yet something seemed . . . odd about the room in her mind. It was as if the chamber was present, and yet not present. Concentrating, she allowed herself to slip deeper into meditation, to abandon conscious thought. Every detail of the room filled her mind, guiding her, consuming her, until—

Of course! I see it now!

Her eyes flew open, her heart racing. Standing, she moved toward the wall by the elaborate fireplace. Her hand shaking slightly, Elsa stretched out her arm, allowing her fingers to come into contact with the wall just to the right of the fireplace. Where is it? I know it's here. I just saw it. Where is it?

Her mind filled with worry as she realized that she must have made an error, that she must have misinterpreted what she saw in her meditation when—

She gasped in surprise as her fingertips fell through the wall, not touching wood or any other solid object, but instead feeling open air. Smiling, Elsa exhaled, stepping forward, taking a shaky yet confident step toward the wall, bracing herself for impact.

It never came. Rather, she passed through the wall into a darkened chamber, the only light coming from a glowing orange swirl on the far side of the room.

I did it! she thought to herself. I beat his trick! It was just an illusion the entire time.

"Excellent job, Elsa."

Startled, Elsa felt her hands glow blue as she quickly turned to the source of the voice. Her hands automatically flew into a defensive position. In the dark corner of the room, she saw someone standing in the shadows, as if waiting for her.

The voice spoke again. "I wasn't sure if you were going to be able to figure it out. I wanted to help you, but you were trapped in the illusion. Had I interfered, had I tried to force you from the hallucination, I would have risked your mind not accepting what was happening. And if that had happened . . . well, it would have been very, very bad indeed."

Elsa frowned as she considered the figure's words. That voice. It sounds . . . familiar. And yet . . . "Who are you?" the Queen demanded, taking a step forward, her hands still pulsating with energy. "What are you doing here? Who are you?"

A laugh filled the room. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. I just arrived here moments ago. I haven't exactly had time to—"

Elsa's eyes narrowed, her expression growing dark. "Don't patronize me," she hissed. "I have to stop V from destroying Arendelle. Whoever you are, are you going to help me, or hinder me? Because if you try to stop me, I promise I am going to make you regret trying to stop me."

The figure paused, its face unreadable, yet Elsa could sense that the speaker was slightly hurt by her harsh words. "You . . . You really don't know who I am, do you?"

"Should I?" Elsa took another step forward. "If you are so certain I should recognize you, stop hiding in the shadows. Come out where I can see you. Now!"

Slowly, carefully, the figure stepped out of the darkness into the room's dim candlelight.

No! It can't be! Elsa felt her knees growing weak, perspiration breaking out over her entire body. After several tense moments, she finally was able to work her throat muscles to speak. "You . . . You're not real," she whispered. "I'm imagining again. I have to be."

The figure before her smiled. "No, Elsa. You're not hallucinating. I'm really here this time."

"Shut up!" Elsa glared at the familiar face before her, struggling to keep herself calm. "I didn't ask for you to appear. Go away! Do it now!" She felt a sense of panic wash over her as the figure continued to stand before her. "I said, go away! You are in my mind! I control you! Get out of here!"

"Elsa." The figure walked toward her slowly, his arms held up, demonstrating his goodwill. Looking at her intently, his eyes—his eyes of icy blue—locked with her own. "Elsa," he repeated. "I'm not a figment of your imagination. I'm really here."

"I . . . I . . ." Elsa stood in shock as the man wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. That touch. I . . . I can't be imagining this. It's too real. It has to be . . .

"Relax." Isarn felt Elsa give in, allowing herself to be consumed by his loving embrace. Delicately, he brought his hand to her face, smiling as he looked upon his daughter's expression once again. "Don't be afraid, Daughter," he whispered. "I'm really here for you."

Elsa no longer cared if what was happening was real or not. It had been years since she had been held like that, in the way that only he had ever done so. Closing her eyes, she heard a single word leave her lips: "Father . . ."

AN: More and more is coming as the stakes keep getting higher. This is only the beginning. Much more to come!