Author's Note:

A dozen apologies for missing the upload last Monday. Once again, my schoolwork and my job caught up to me, and I had to let things slide for a little bit. Now that we're back, I get to announce that, once again, we'll be taking a break from Words of the Protector for a few weeks to dive deep with another short story! Be on the lookout for Hans: a Trials of Light and Darkness Story, our first short story about (guess who), Hans! The first chapter will be posted 3/26/18 (next Monday). Until then, happy reading!

xxx

Interlude – Odette and Anna and Ashanerat

Fear will be your enemy.

Frozen

Olympia,

The Southern Isles

August 17th, 1843

"Lord God, you are attentive to the voice of our pleading." A brisk wind tousled the grass atop the little cemetery hill, bringing with it the scent of impending rain. Summer was coming to an end. Odette and Kariena both wore dresses of a somber black as they stood beside the wilted old minister performing the rites.

His voice was thin and reedy. They'd chosen a little, pastoral church at the edge of the magnet villages surrounding Olympia for Hans's burial. Kariena said that Hans had mentioned once that he didn't like cities. There wasn't enough room to breathe, and to think. The minister was the only caretaker of the little stone church, really no bigger than a single room and in the service of some twenty villagers who took up residence near a wending little brook. They were fishermen by nature. The minister didn't ask many questions. He could tell they'd lost someone who mattered.

The three stood alone beside a freshly tilled grave, set with a simple, unadorned stone. The unplanted earth was loose around their feet, but the minister assured them that when the next planting season came around, he'd come put the seeds of a rosebush here. All the other little tombstones in the cemetery were practically overgrown with bright flowers. They swayed in the wind, colorful faces turned up to the sky.

"Let us find in your Son comfort in our sadness, certainty in our doubt, and the courage to live through this, our darkest hour. Make our faith strong through Christ, our Lord." The little minister drew a bible from underneath his arm and opened it to a silky red bookmark. He began to read.

"I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and believeth in me, shall never die." He closed the book again after the little passage.

"Amen," the pair each murmured. Odette had heard Elsa speak that verse before. Despite her irreverence, something about it had stuck with the Queen of Arendelle. Now, it seemed fit to describe them both.

The breeze kicked up a bit more, and the trio squinted towards the horizon. Perhaps the rain was coming sooner than they'd anticipated.

The minister turned back towards them and smiled sadly. "I'm sure that Hans will be very missed, by the both of you, madams." All the old man had asked them for was a name. It was all they gave. "It's always a grave loss when someone so young leaves us. But I know that he would have taken comfort to know that he will be kept in your minds and in your hearts."

"Thank you, father," Kariena said softly. There was a little tremble in her voice.

"God be with you, always." The old man started off down the cemetery hill, leaving them to mourn in silence. For some time, they did.

When another cool breeze came and reminded Odette that it was about to rain, she glanced towards Kariena. Silent tears trickled down the young woman's face. "It's okay if now isn't the best time to talk about what comes next."

Kariena shook her head. "It's okay. I want to. I want to see this finished."

Odette nodded slowly. "It's just… we might not be able to do this by ourselves. This fight seems bigger than you or me."

"He would have kept fighting," Kariena said. "No matter the odds. And I'll walk through Hell and back if I have to, because I'm going to keep fighting too."

Odette placed a hand on Kariena's shoulder and smiled sadly. "And I'll be right there by your side."

The pair of witches headed back down the hill just as the first raindrops began to softly fall.

xxx

Anna rest a hand the slight bulge of her stomach as she leaned against the doorframe, gazing out towards the city as sheets of rain pummeled the city. She didn't seem to be aware that she was drenched by the errant mist that got in under the eaves, little rivulets streaming off of her hair and down her face.

"Anna!" Kristoff gasped from behind, rushing into the room and sweeping the doors to the balcony shut. "What the hell are you doing?" He said, searching her face with worried eyes until she blinked twice and met his gaze.

"It's only been six weeks," Kristoff said, his voice becoming gentler as he smoothed some hair out her face. "You have to give her some time. This isn't the kind of thing that gets done overnight."

"It's not just that it's been so long, Kristoff," Anna said, inadvertently shivering, now that she realized just how cold she was. She smiled gratefully as Kristoff swept a towel around her shoulders and wound it close. "I just… I can feel something. Something bad."

"Look," Kristoff said, leading her to the bed and sitting beside her. "With my upbringing the way it was, I get being superstitious. I used to think that I could tell when a storm was coming, from patterns in the stars. It took me, uh, quite a while," Kristoff laughed once, "to realize that the stars are the same every night.

"The point is," he continued, clasping one of his wife's hands in his own, "that if you know where to look for something, it's not too hard to find it. Good or bad. Elsa will be home before you know it."

Anna swallowed her fear. "You're right."

"In the meantime," Kristoff said, "let's get you warmed back up. I was actually just about to sneak down for a –" he glanced over at the clock against the wall. "Not-quite-yet-midnight snack. Why don't we have the chef whip up something warm for you to drink?"

Anna smiled and took his hand, allowing her husband to pull her up from the bed. "Maybe we can give little no-name a bit to eat, too."

Anna laughed, despite herself. "I wish you'd stop calling our child that," she said, putting on an air of affront.

"Well, if you start helping me come up with names, I'll be the first to start using the real one," he said as he opened the door and let them out into the manor's hallway. Construction on their little cottage had gotten underway just a few weeks ago, and it was projected to be completed by winter. Until then, they remained in the late Namar Sadden's manor.

"Okay, Mr. Wiseguy, but we don't even know if they're a boy or a girl, yet," Anna said.

"Well why don't we give it a neutral name, like Alex, or Shirley," Kristoff said, placing a broad arm in the small of his wife's back and leading them along the dim chamber.

A candle was left lit every fifteen or so feet along the hallways at night, in case someone needed to get up. They were also helpful when Elsa stayed up doing paperwork until the wee hours of the morning. Anna hoped that they had cause to serve that function again, soon, but she knew deep down that even if Elsa returned, nothing would ever be like it was. At least, not for a long time.

Anna snorted. "Kristoff, I'd put one of my eyes out before I decided that it was a good idea to name my kid Shirley."

"Yeah, that one was mostly just to get a rise out of you," he said as they started down a staircase. After half a year in the manor, they'd finally started to figure out the fastest ways to navigate the maze of its corridors. "But seriously. We could come up with a name for each and just call it both until we know."

Anna raised a dubious eyebrow. "What, like Anna-Kristoff?"

"I mean, I don't think I'm egomaniacal enough to name my own kid after me, but sure," Kristoff said, laughing as Anna aggressively rolled her eyes.

They made their way down to the kitchens, where several cooks were hard at work, preparing the next day's meals.

"You know, this is one thing I'll miss, when we get out into the country," Kristoff said, smiling and stepping up behind the head chef, clapping him on the shoulder. "Evening, Marty. How 'bout you whip up me and the missus something to eat, huh?"

"Sounds good, chief, what'll it be?" The portly chef replied, stepping over to a pot of soup sizzling over a hearth. He tasted a bit of it and scowled, then barked some commands towards the sous chef, who in turn started parceling them out to the individual cooks.

Anna was reminded that she should spend some more time appreciating all of the little people who worked together to bring together her privileged experience every day. Back when she was young, her father had told her not to worry about the individual servants much. He'd assured her that they were paid well, and that they served at the pleasure of the crown. Well, Agnarr had believed in the divine right of kings, so Anna wasn't sure how much she should take her servants for granted.

After placing an order, Kristoff led them over to a little wooden table in the kitchens that the cooks would use on break. Right now, however, it was just them. The couple sat in silence for a few moments; it looked to Anna like Kristoff was trying to figure out how he wanted to say something, but he wasn't quite sure how to do it. Eventually, he settled his mind and spoke up.

"I don't want to worry you unnecessarily," he started.

Anna snorted. "You spend all that time thinking about how to start this conversation, and you start it like that?"

"Well," Kristoff scratched the back of his neck. "Look, I don't think it's really that big of a deal, but I just wanted to make sure that you know what's going on."

"Okay," Anna said, smiling gratefully at the matronly woman who deposited a tray laden with soup, bread, and even some hot chocolate on their table. "I do want to know what's going on…"

"So, I'm going to speak to Vander about this tomorrow morning," Kristoff continued, mentioning the regent who had taken stewardship of Arendelle since Elsa's departure. Anna didn't know much more about Vander than what Elsa had told her about him, and in her absence suddenly Anna found herself wishing that she hadn't been so lax about statecraft and politics lessons during her youth. "And it's probably nothing, but, well, here goes."

Anna took the mug of hot chocolate and sipped at it. Warmth spread through her chest.

"There's been some really strange weather patterns going on recently," Kristoff said. "My men have noticed some particularly odd stuff up on the North Mountain as they're gathering ice. Flash storms, like the one we've got tonight, but also some strange light patterns in the sky. Not like the aurora, but something else entirely. Sort of… well, I haven't seen it for myself, but they describe it as these red and orange streaks through the sky that almost look like flame."

"Okay, that sounds like something that I should maybe be worried about," Anna said.

"Well, there's not really much that any of us can do about it, except just keep an eye out," Kristoff said. "So, I'll let Vander know, and we'll see what advice he has to offer on it, and we'll take things from there."

Anna tried to force down panic. "Elsa told me that in her visions of the past, the sky was burning."

Kristoff took Anna's hands again and smiled reassuringly. "Our world got through this once before, Anna. And that time, they didn't have your sister to guide them through. With Elsa standing between us and oblivion, we don't have a goddamn thing to fear."

xxx

Ashanerat stepped out of the Paliendron, feeling washed out and bare. Nearly one year had passed since Dominus had been killed by Everdark. Not yet ten minutes had passed since Ashanerat had finally agreed to perform the binding ritual.

The air outside the Paliendron was thick with particulate, and it took her a few moments to adjust her breathing. She coughed, once or twice. The ceaseless, swirling storms of the early desolation had gone, and now Celestus seemed to be caught in the eye of a storm. The city would spend days, sometimes, even a few lucky weeks between each of the horrible storms. But then, just when the city had started to come out of hiding, the air would start to choke with sand again. A day or so later, the sun would be blotted out behind a dark haze. Then that night, hell would come.

Sand would come to blast the city with such force that it scoured stone white. Humans and animals caught outside in the storm would have their very flesh stripped away. And the hordes of dead would rise and lay siege to the crumbling walls. Ashanerat felt the knot in her stomach twist painfully at the thought that they were living on borrowed time until the next storm.

"We must last only three more days, Ashanerat," Rhennalus said softly from behind her.

Ashanerat turned with surprise to glance at the old man, standing to her right with his hands clasped together. She hadn't realized he'd been nearby.

"Circu says that it will take him this long to ready the ritual. The process would normally take a month or longer, but he we will weave magic for seventy-two hours straight so that we will be ready."

Ashanerat glanced towards the city's walls, where people were hastily trying to construct windbreaks that would help abate the storm. A few ordinary spellcasters, not full wizards, but magic users with access to only a single ability, walked among them, helping the citizenry turn dunes of sand into hardened stone.

"That will be dangerous," Ashanerat replied. Trying to sustain magic for more than a few hours at a time was mentally and physically taxing. Trying to weave a complex and powerful ritual for three days straight would be life-threatening. Ashanerat did not deny, however, that they didn't have time to spare.

"Circu is prepared to give his life in the process," the Bard Rhennalus whispered.

Ashanerat turned to meet Rhennalus's eyes, and for a moment she said nothing. Rhennalus did not say what went unspoken: perhaps he would have been able to prepare the ritual across several months if you had agreed to its necessity sooner.

"That is very noble of him," she eventually managed.

"I agree," Rhennalus said. "We will recall you once the ritual is ready for completion. Until then, I suggest that you save as many lives as you can during the next storm, Protector."

Rhennalus turned and began to walk away, the hem of his robe leaving a dusty trail on the scoured earth.