"Come on, Seier. Take him inside for me, good boy. Bed! Go to bed, boy!" Anna whispered, patting the wolf's head. Seier then gave a small yip as he leapt up quickly and licked Anna's chin, missing her cheek, and then he dug his teeth deep into the flesh of the man's side, leading him inside with great pleasure as his prey howled in pain.
"So, Elsa." Anna said once Seier was out of sight, turning to the queen with a victorious grin. "What do you reckon would be a suitable punishment for him?"
The man writhed against his bonds as the large wolf at his head growled warningly, sharp white teeth bared. Anna bent down, quickly smoothing her pet's head as she crossed her arms, glaring at her prey who, by now, hung from his feet from the ceiling, his shirt falling down slightly and revealing the bloodied bandage which wrapped his side.
"Let's start off easy," she hissed, then glancing at Elsa, waiting for some affirmation to continue. The queen, however, only shook her head, then turning to the man, her eyes as sharp as the large icicle which sprung up from the ground, stopping a few metres below the man's head.
"What's your name, then?" she said with an only slightly wavering voice; the man immediately folded his arms, looking away as if he were a child.
"I am not answering a single question until you let me down from here!" he snapped. "I can't think straight with all the blood rushing to my head!"
"You don't need to think for that, idiot," Anna bit out as Seier snarled once again, lunging forwards until his mother's hand latched onto his scruff, jerking him back. Kristoff then slackened his grip on the rope tied around Odd's feet momentarily, his brows furrowed as he did so; instantaneously the man yelped, the sharp ice below him suddenly rushing closer to his head.
"Fine, fine!" he gasped, desperately squirming to escape the dagger of ice below him. Seier immediately gave a short yip, jumping forwards as Anna's grip slackened and nipping warningly at his hand, his fangs easily slashing through the tender skin, drawing blood. The man, of course, recoiled as best as he could and lashed out, rage in his voice as he hissed, "Get that bloody wolf away from me! Control him!"
Anna's eyes flashed as she studied the man momentarily, then patting her leg and calling, in a rather unenthusiastic voice, for Seier to get away. He only sat down, looking in her direction and whining, then fixating his gaze once more on his prey—and Anna made no further attempt to pull him off, quite content with the close proximity between the two.
"Answer the question," she snapped loudly, narrowing her eyes as the temperature in the room fell a few degrees, undoubtedly by Elsa's accidental doing.
"Dagvin," he snapped, rubbing his arms as his hairs stood on end, not having been given the luxury of a cloak. Kristoff, displeased with this answer, only huffed, allowing the rope to slip a little more, drawing a rather satisfying yelp. "Argh! It's Anderson. Dagvin Anderson."
"Better," Elsa said, feeling just the slightest confidence at the sight of the man so helpless. "Kristoff, put him down for a minute. I'll thaw the ice."
"What?"
"Just do it. We don't want to kill him."
Anna huffed, turning away from her sister and frowning. "I wouldn't mind," she hissed, then turning her gaze to the man as she grinned a little. "Leave him there for a few hours, and he'll surely get a brain haemorrhage..."
Dagvin shuddered at the picture, struggling even more; though the sight of him looking so terrified actually made Elsa feel a little better, she still glared at her sister, then nodding to Kristoff as she thawed the ice. For a moment, she even felt slightly sickened by her own actions as she watched Dagvin struggling as he lay on the floor—but it wasn't long before she began to forget the remorseful thoughts, instead favouring vengeful ones.
"Okay, time's up," she commanded after a minute or so, prompting Kristoff to hurriedly pull Dagvin back up, grunting as he struggled with the ropes, quickly aided by Anna, though her contribution was not overly great.
"Next question," Elsa said as she carefully shot up a second icicle, considering her options on what to ask of him. It wasn't too long before something, though perhaps irrelevant, occurred to her. "Did you really get slashed by an eagle?"
Dagvin snarled, his eyes focused dutifully on the wolf whose muzzle, by now, was almost close enough to touch. "No." he admitted, watching the canine carefully and yelping as Anna began to speak out, an action which made Seier snap at his nose quickly before realising the tone had not been malicious.
"What on earth was the point of lying then?" she snapped, quickly making a few kissing noises to draw Seier back. Dagvin, able to do nothing but watch as a little blood trickled down his face and into the corner of his already injured eye, was quick to respond, though his voice was ever bitter and reluctant.
"I had scars already. I had my face slashed to hide them."
Stunned for just a second, Elsa was quick to shake off her shock as she continued, her own confidence growing. "Right. Well, onto some more serious questions. We may as well start with the obvious one, so... why were you posing to be my husband?"
Dagvin shook his head, his messy hair—so close to Odd's—flying about his head as he dangled. "You won't kill me. I might know things that you need." he said, a grin plastered upon his face. "You'll have to try better than that, but I'm not going to talk."
Elsa frowned, considering this point before shrugging slightly. "You do know," she began, "that if Prince Kristoff was to get annoyed, his hands could get sweaty. Just think... One little, uncontrolled slip for you to be split in half."
Dagvin snarled, his new found confidence seemed to be going to his head as he snapped back, "I still won't speak. If I'm dead, what good am I to you?"
"How should we know, though?" Elsa continued, tentatively stepping a little closer. "What information can you have that is worth your life?"
"Perhaps I know something about your little princess?" he began, looking towards Anna and grinning as she recoiled, her eyes widening as her lips parted slightly. Elsa, too, drew back a little, but then she regained her composure—or some of it, at least.
"Have it your way," she said, waving her hand and letting the icicle thaw away. A second later she watched with vengeful glee as the man wince, trembling uncomfortably as a rope of ice began to trail out from under his pants. "Kristoff? Would you loosen the hold on Dagvin's ankles, please?" Her voice was sweet and Anna's face morphed into a smile as she watched, Kristoff wincing as he did as commanded; the reaction was immediate, and the man gasped as he slipped downwards a bit. Most of the pressure was, admittedly, still on his ankles—but from the expression he now wore he could certainly feel an additional, rather painful pressure elsewhere.
"Argh!" he groaned, squirming. "Let me go!"
Elsa scowled, her resolve to break the stubborn man even more resolute. "Will you talk, now?" she asked, but the only response she received was Dagvin looking away from her stubbornly, despite the pain he was undoubtedly in. Elsa only sighed, turning her back and stepping towards the door. "Have it your way. Kristoff? Please tie the rope loosely up, and we'll come back in ten minutes or so. We'll see what he thinks then."
Anna nodded shortly as she called for Seier, kissing to him at the same time. Then scratching just behind his ears, she gave Dagvin a vicious, almost carnivorous smile and then turned, entwining her arm with her husband's. The thought of news on Mia was so precious to her that she couldn't help but feel a little giddy with excitement, not quite considering that the 'something' the man may or may not have known could have been devastating. "Come on, Kris," she said, all but skipping on the spot. Her husband only chuckled as he left, following quickly as he was dragged along, though he did spare a somewhat sympathetic glance towards the man.
"You're impossible, Feistypants," he teased, pulling her a little closer as he stopped her from sprinting off. "You even scare me sometimes."
Anna laughed a little. "No, I'm not," she said with a beam, much too happy for the situation. "I can just stand up for myself. And, honestly, I really hate fakers. He reminds me of Hans, now that I know what's actually going on, and it really makes my blood boil. And he deserves a good slap."
Elsa smiled a little as she nodded curtly to the guards situated outside the door, gratefully accepting a candle from the younger. Holding it up high, she then turned to the couple and let out a breath of relief, released the fear which she wasn't aware had built up. "Thanks, Sis," she whispered, and though the words were quiet Anna still smiled, having heard the Queen's words.
Dagvin groaned, feeling his vision go blurry once again. He clenched his fists, struggling to raise himself up so that his head was higher than his heart but to no avail; especially with the addition of the new pressure, he was incapable of moving without causing himself great discomfort. And, despite how weak and pathetic it made him feel, he couldn't help but be slightly relieved when the queen, princess and prince returned, placing him down so that he had a moment's relief.
"Now, Dagvin," Elsa began as she stepped into the room, treading as close to the man as she dared. "Will you answer my questions yet?"
"Now, Elsa," he bit out, his eyes shining with loathing and his tone so cold that it sent shivers down the queen's spine. "Will you let me down if I do?"
Shocked slightly, Elsa paused for a moment before folding her arms over her small bump. "Perhaps," she said, looking away; Dagvin only huffed, gritting his teeth together.
"No, then," he snapped and Elsa sighed, not having expected him to be so stubborn. Then walking over to her sister, she whispered something in the younger woman's ear before returning her attention to Dagvin, who was still being eyed up by the wolf who sat, rather stiffly as if ready to pounce, by his head.
"Stay, Seier." Elsa commanded, fashioning an icy lead to pull him back to her, then bending down and scratching under his chin. "Just wait for a bit, boy."
The wolf whined but he stayed where he was, his amber eyes resting solely on his prey as he flicked his tail very slowly, focused, just as Anna returned with a cup of golden-orange liquid in her hands. With an only slightly strained smile Elsa quickly accepted the glass, the distinctive smell of rum reaching her nose and making her cringe slightly—she'd never been much of a fan of the drink. Wine was, to her, much more palatable.
Walking over to Dagvin, she motioned for Kristoff to let him down before gesturing him to come over. Doing so immediately, he then bent down and secured a hold on the man's shoulders, all but sitting on top of him as Elsa bent down and placed the cup to his lips.
"Come on," she whispered, pressing the cup to his lips more forcibly. "It's not poison. Just drink it already!"
Dagvin glowered at her and bucked, struggling to escape from Kristoff's heavy grip, but not succeeding. His struggles only increased as Kristoff then forced his mouth open, an icy funnel being placed in so that the rum could be poured. Once again he struggled, writhing as the liquid forced its way down his throat and then he began to sputter, coughing enough so as to make the queen recoil. Then taking advantage of her new position he began to buck once again, squirming and writhing and throwing his body about until, with a fairly loud slap, he managed to strike Elsa's leg with his own, sending her wheeling back quickly as she gave a small cry of pain, though she soon regained her composure.
"Get him back up there, Kristoff," she bit out, her eyes now dangerously grey in colour, losing their pale blue tint. "We aren't going to get anywhere with him. I was hoping if he drank enough rum, he'd get drunk and spill some secrets, but despite what he... what he did to me, I will not stoop down to his level and torture him."
"I don't know about you, but I'd count this as torture." Dagvin snapped, wincing as the icy rope from before reformed. Elsa only glared at him as he glanced in her direction.
"It's punishment." she said, her expression steely. "If you were being tortured you'd be screaming about now."
"So," Kristoff interjected before Dagvin could speak, grunting as he clambered off of the struggling man and began to hoist him back upwards. "What are you going to do, then? Surely you aren't just going to let him go? We need to know what's going on... But one of the maids—that pretty one with the black hair—who was looking after Arne said he's better now. Well, almost—but she promised he'll be fine in a day or two max, so long as he stops being a pain and trying to play."
With Anna scowling at the mention of a pretty woman and immediately brushing up against her husband's side, Elsa nodded. "I know. We'll go and see him later. But at any rate, I want the real Odd back and Arne can't help with that—but I have no idea where to look without a lead. So, I guess I'll just get the guards to deal with him. They can interrogate him and get the information. Whether they want to use more... extreme methods, is their choice, but as long as we get something useful then I'll be satisfied."
Anna, whose face was beginning to turn the exact colour of beetroot, quickly turned tail and walked out of the room, pausing outside and leaning up against the wall, sighing. "So, Elsa," she said, smoothing down the creases on her dress as she waited, . "Have you decided what to do about Corona yet?"
The queen stopped for a second, thinking to herself before a revelational thought registered in her brain. Glancing back to Dagvin quickly, she then strode out of the cell hastily—thanking the guards as she did so—and caught up with her sister, nodding once.
"I think I have." she said, her voice a little quiet before she looked up more confidently, her eyes suddenly filled with flames. "I... I don't want to condemn my men to die, but there's no other choice now. I really don't think there is any other option, unless I'm going to let all of our family die."
"Huh? I think I'm a little lost, Elsa."
Elsa took a deep breath and adjusted her crown slightly on her head, standing a little straighter though a few small tears began to form in the corner of her eyes. "We are going to war against the Southern Isles. And we'll destroy them."
Arne stood up, watching Mia skipping and dancing around happily. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that the girl wasn't real—the way her body blurred out at the edges proved that—but he couldn't seem to accept this, and saw her as being normal.
"Come on, Arne!" the illusion whispered joyfully to him, beckoning him over as she stepped up onto the window ledge. She quickly turned her finger downwards, staring at the courtyard below. "Look at this!"
Arne quickly rushed over, holding on to the edge of the window with his hand. Mia only laughed, her glee shrill and high pitched, and Arne frowned slightly as the image of the girl began to fade out.
"Jump, Arne!" she said, laughing as she took a step forwards—but somehow appeared to walk back so that she was stood on air. "I'll catch you! It's fun!"
Watching her flickering body, Arne finally snapped out of the illusion, coming to accept at last that the girl before him wasn't real. Perhaps he had even known all along—but he had certainly not been able to respond. "Jump, Arne!" the illusion girl called with a giggle, but the boy began to back up slightly, whimpering.
"Get away! Get away!" he yelled, swatting the air, but his hand simply passed through her body. The girl grinned, and then morphed with a gentle whistle into a strong gust of air, her pathetic body gone.
Arne groaned as the wind smashed into his chest, sending him stumbling backwards a bit. Then feeling himself at the window her gave a full bodied scream, but he could not stop himself as he toppled over the edge of the window.
Screaming once more, tears streamed down the toddler's face as he desperately grabbed on with his hand, searthing to find a way to grip on the stone wall with his feet, fumbling for a latch. But he could only groan as he struggled, his fingers rapidly slipping under his weight until, as if he were an angel earning his wings, a single magpie's feather floated down, landing on his shoulder with no warning—and, petrified as he was, it was enough to startle him.
As he fell, he gave another deafening howl, screaming as he plummetted down the brick wall. But incredulously, not a single person nearby even flinched.
They could not hear it.
But he heard the crash as his body slammed against the cobble—but he did not feel the pain.
He hadn't even lasted long enough to recognise it.
Okay, so I'm sure some of you are going to be trying to reach through the computer screen and stab me, but please be nice! I didn't want to kill Arne! I really didn't!
I'm so sorry... please don't kill me!
A massive thank you for all the punishment ideas. I've included a couple, and will be using a few more in passing in one of the next chapters.
Please review! As a challenge, try to think of a foreign stereotypical item / trait (e.g. French baguette, German beer, British top hats, etc) The most inventive and unusual one will be included in the following chapters! So try to make them really crazy, and add some weirdness to the story!
-SG