Agnarr was having a bad day. It didn't help that he had woken up with a terrible headache the size of his advisors' mouth, threatening to be a thorn in his side till he was able to find the royal doctor and attain a cure.
It also didn't help that he was being forced to interact with the man he despised the most- King Jerald of the Oslo Kingdom, the most annoying man he had met in all his life as ruler of Arendelle. Not to mention that he was the reason why his wife rarely smiled these days. Oh what he would do to see those crinkles around her eyes appear more often, maybe even a laugh-
"For the last time, we demand an apology for the incident that has happened over 2 years ago. Your accusation has caused us to lose many of our trusted allies, pushing our country closer into a financial crisis! Outrageous!" Jerald's saliva seemingly could not bear to be in his mouth any longer, flying out into the open before landing on Agnarr's eyebrow and interrupting his thoughts. Great.
His hand slowly creeping to his belt stocked with throwing knives, Agnarr's eyebrow twitched in annoyance as he brought his other hand up to wipe away any traces of the opposing king's spit that had landed on him by chance. Deciding against punching him for now, Agnar's left hand opted for the wine glass situated on the cedar table, a glorious monument filled with the liquids of the gods standing out against the scattered sheets of parchment detailing alliances and policies.
"And pray tell, oh King jerald," Agnarr drawled, sipping the wine from the glass purposefully, "would your terms for an apology be?". It had been two years since it happened-of course Agnarr knew what the greedy king wanted before he said it.
500,000 pounds of silver. 22 bags of gold and diamonds. A public announcement to the neighbouring kingdoms that they had falsely accused Oslo of taking their daughter away. Agnarr scoffed in his head. Like hell he would. He would trade all the jewels in the world if he could have his daughter back…
Agnarr shook his head and placed down the wine glass. "King Jerald, I would give you the riches of my Kingdom if it meant I could have my only child back. Alas, Prince Lucas" Agnarr spat out, anger threatening to overrule his mind, "still chooses to remain silent about what happened 2 years ago! It is not my fault that your son has become mute, but he is certainly connected to my child's disappearance."
It was the king's private chambers in Arendelle castle, reserved for private meetings that required the utmost secrecy and confidentiality. The room was littered with ornate bookshelves and gold-lined furniture, furlined carpets spilling out over the rosewood floor as specks of dust mingled in the air. While the room seemed peaceful and cozy, the atmosphere between the two leaders was anything but. Charged with tension and poorly disguised fury, there were many a few glances cast to their respective weapons, each itching to resort to a straight duel.
With a frustrated grunt, Agnarr rose to his feet, standing up from his leather chair and towering over the shorter man in front like a father to his insolent child. Something Agnarr was proud of, taking pleasure at the slightest hint of fear in Jerald's eyes as they sized each other up. Both knew of the other's penchant ability in battle, and this was one of the few reasons preventing Agnarr from throwing his wine glass at Jerald's head.
"I am already meeting you without my wife's consent, who need i remind you is deeply traumatized-" Agnarr began, before being cut off by Jerald's furious rebuttal.
"By an incident Oslo is not responsible for! This is ridiculous Agnarr, do not be such a foolhardy man to the point where you risk war!"
"War you are responsible for yet choose not to shoulder the burden!" Agnarr thundered back, his fury reaching an all time high at being insulted by the mildly fat leech in front of him. "I know you value Luke, as he is your only son, but she was my only daughter too. If you truly wish to repair your country's state, you could start by finding my child, or face the consequences!".
Jerald also rose up from his chair, fist pounding on the table as he refused to back down from Agnarr's commanding presence. As expected. While Agnarr was dubbed "The wise", Jerald was known as "the bold", a mark of respect towards his guts for challenging whoever no matter the circumstance. These days he was labelled with descriptions far worse and insulting in nature, but Agnarr did not see the need to bring it up. After all, war with Arendelle was enough of a deterrence, let alone Jerald's reputation.
"And how do you propose I do so when my resources are spread thin? My allies are disappearing for fear of the same thing happening to them, and it's all your fault!" Jerald's armour shook as he spoke, the sound of metal scraping and clashing against metal showing the extent of his fury.
Agnarr was close to telling this man to shove a rat up his ass and cry to his mother, but instead all the two men got to enjoy was a tense stare off before all hell broke loose.
The sound of the door opening and hitting the wall with ferocity and rage shook the window panes furiously, a loud bang resounding throughout the bookshelves wobbled precariously, the wine bottles trembling in the cabinet beside the desk as the two men were shaken out of their stupor. Guilt and concern immediately plagued Agnarr as he saw the woman he loved appear in the doorway, a sword at her waist and a dagger in hand.
Agnarr knew his wife's mental state, knew how precarious her mind was, knew her rashness when it came to her daughter. So he put two and two together.
As quick as his reflexes could, Agnarr brandished his own sword in the nick of time, barely managing to save King Jerald's life by deflecting the dagger aimed for his throat. As if time had slowed down itself, the dagger was sent towards the table instead, shattering the wine glass in the process. The metallic clang of steel against steel resounded through the air, acting as a temporary buffer before a scream of primal rage and fury tore through the air.
Like hell had embodied itself into a figure, Queen Iduna of Arendelle descended upon King Jerald in an uproar. Tears streaming down her face, she reached for her sword, only to find herself restrained by her very own husband, who was using all his strength to quell her rage and hysterics. Screams of anguish at the sight of Jerald shook the windows, filling the room with emotion and pressure.
Struggling against his grip but to no avail, Iduna cursed and swore as she stared at the man she believed was hiding the one responsible for her daughter's disappearance. At the thought of her daughter, a brief moment of clarity was restored to her, barely enough for her to address King Jerald coherently.
"Leave." Iduna spat out, her eyes boring into Jerald's with such wrath and intensity the man was forced to look at his wine soaked feet. "Come back when you have my daughter you whore."
Giving no sign that he heard her command, a looming shadow was cast across his face in the pale moonlight as he shifted his body to brush himself off, from both the shock of being attacked by the queen along with the discomfort prickling across his body. Still, unrestrained rage was evident from the way his fist was clenched and in the tense muscles peeking out from underneath his armour as he finally raised his head to meet Iduna's vehement glare.
"As you wish, queen Iduna." King Jerald whispered in an icy tone, the hostility ringing in his voice and making itself known to the three people in the room. With that final mockery of her royalty, Jerald moved towards the door, his armour clad feet dragging across the wooden floor like nails on a chalkboard. Every second seemed drawn out to Agnarr as the figure made his way across the room, his senses spiking should the two parties go on the offensive once more.
However, as Jerald passed the couple, the heated moment passed and Agnarr inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. There would be no blood spilt tonight. Not for a long time, if he could help it. Hopefully, this would pass without need for bloodshed. While Agnarr was a gifted warrior with his fair share of killings, he always hoped for the best- which in this case, would be his daughter returning safely without any conflict.
This hope had always been inside Agnarr, resting peacefully as Agnarr handled talks of alliance negotiations and peace treaties. Resting peacefully, until Jerald paused at the doorway, the winter cloak he had just put on fluttering slightly in Arendelle's winter breath. Until Jerald opened his mouth, quietly hissing the words that caused the hope to flutter and cease.
The words that lingered in the room as his heavy-padded footsteps faded away gradually, signifying his departure back to Oslo. The words that lingered briefly in Iduna's mind as she crumpled to the floor, her body dry-heaving as miserable sobs escaped the room and flooded the hallways, filling it with the Queen's sadness and anguish. The words that lingered in Agnarr's mind with a sense of finality as he rubbed his wife's back in a comforting manner, knowing he would be facing yet another cold shoulder tonight. The words that refused to leave his attention as he eventually brought his wife back to their chambers hours later, tucking her in gently with promises to explain King Jerald's presence in their room.
Those wretched words.
"This is war."
…
It had been 2 weeks since the rumoured meeting of the autumn solstice between the two monarchs of Arendelle and Oslo. The rumours of a brandished sword and promises of war had fallen upon several curious ears, all of which seemed glaringly real given the current events sweeping the various kingdoms. Or just one in particular.
Oslo's war production had increased, the smoke of a hundred blacksmiths filling the air as the clanging of metal revised from a disruptive presence to a common one. Young men had been sent from their homes to the castle, having been woken up by knocks on their doors in the wee hours of the morning by the King's guards on errand. Gone was the beautiful smell of Oslo's famous pine trees, the lovely sound of birds chirping in the forests. A path was being cleared through nature by the actions of men and women alike, a path that would take them on a direct offensive route to the borders of Arendelle.
This meant carving out territories of smaller kingdoms, something that did not seemed to deter Oslo's production efforts in the slightest. They were fully committed to this- all under the king's orders. Did the king not care of the deaths they would have to suffer, his people who were oh so loyal to him? Loyalty and admiration were often confused, and it seemed the King had the whole country under his spell.
Or so Henry was told. He had not seen Oslo since a few weeks ago.
"One southern Beer?" A merry voice broke Henry's thoughts, and the brown haired man turned to find a girl barely reaching his torso, struggling with a pint of beer that spilled everywhere as the girl teetered on her feet.
He wasn't in Oslo, hadn't been since the King himself had given him his assignment. He had travelled a long distance by horseback and his own two feet, managing to get good ground over most of his journey.
Most. This fucking weather was too cold for today, and Henry had heard good reviews of the tavern he was currently resting in- Oaken's "Cooling" Tavern. He had never seen so many people happy to be stuck in such an isolated place, but the merry bustle of the crowd and the comforting presence of large burly men having a laugh around some ale brought some ease to Henry. His journey was a lonely one, and he sought comfort in sitting alone at his table, drinking in the sight of merry tunes being played by the local bard and couples dancing disjointedly… yet freely. All while the icy blizzard blazed outside, threatening to tear down everything its path and flood it with snow- save for the trusty Oaken tavern. Yea winter was right around the corner, but why can't nature take a break for once?
Grunting in response, Henry relieved the pitiful girl of her burden and took the beer with his own hands, fingers discreetly brushing across the girl's tiny ones. Winking at the kid, Henry held his breath and downed the drink in a single gulp, enjoying the burning sensation of alcohol against his throat. A sense of euphoria was beginning to cloud his mind, Henry could tell, as he studied the girl still standing before him.
Seemingly shocked that this stranger had finished his drink in a second, her mouth was hanging ajar as childlike wonder sparkled in her eyes. Henry could appreciate that- it's been a long time since he himself had experienced such unadulterated joy at seeing something unexpected. Pale glistening lips, buttoned nose and a blooming blush adorned the girl's features as her auburn eyes glanced towards the floor under Henry's scrutiny. She had barely a year, maybe two, before she would go through her changes.
Perfect.
Henry cracked a wicked smile, knowing the girl was too innocent to interpret his actions as anything but holy and kind. Just his type.
…
A few moments later, Henry found himself outside the tavern, his heart palpating uncontrollably at the thought of sweet release. Back in Oslo, his escapades were anything but public, kept under the shadow of the night and pouches of money or gifts to soothe the parents of the children he explored. Devoured. Hungered for. All this would mean so little compared to the girl with her fingers laced between his, eager to find the "rumblefox" supposedly resting here in the trees surrounding the tavern.
That was of course, utter fucking bullshit. Henry had no qualms about lying to this naive being, but the bartender who was her father and owner of the establishment was no walk in the park. Big burly frame with broad shoulders and very defined muscles under his ugly Christmas sweater, his moustache had quivered with suspicion and intrigue upon Henry's request to take his daughter out for a walk. His wife nearly swooned, Henry could tell.
Women were no problem. Nor children, for that matter. But something about the way Oaken had examined him with a quick glance behind his bushy eyebrows had sent a shiver down Henry's spine, a small feeling nestling deep within his body to act as a precaution.
Don't get caught, Henry thought to himself. Easy. He never did anyway. He was practically begging for release anyway, it wouldn't take too long. Besides, the child's arms were as thick as his fingers. It wouldn't be much of a struggle.
"Mister, where's the fox? I can't believe you're so lucky to spot one so far from Oslo, I can't wait to see something so pretty!" The young girl gushed excitedly, her eyes twinkling as it roamed the dark expanse, searching for any telltale sign of the animal. Henry couldn't help but sigh dreamily as he took in the soft skin this girl was blessed with, making her face both adorable and stunning while stirring Henry's stomach.
Henry glanced around the surroundings, drinking in the dazzling night sky littered with bright lights smiling down on them. The pale yet lively full moon reflected light from the sun with such beauty, the embodiment of grace with its archaic beauty. A shining light allowing Henry to make out the large forests on either side that seemed to stretch on for miles, never once stopping to breathe.
Henry turned his attention towards the girl, watching white mist appear with the girl's very exhale, dazzling yet alluring under the spell of the moonlight.
Greed and desire had risen quickly in Henry's mind, clouding his thoughts to the point of no return. He wanted his release now. He would rather die than be without it. Fuck it.
And so, he placed one comforting hand on the girl's shoulder, fingers placed inches away from the buttons holding her flower-patterned dress together. His other hand trailed towards the belt around his waistband, loosening it as he leant down into her ear, whispering "I can show you something else rather to your liking as well, little lady…".
"Disgusting."
A voice rang through the air, a light peering through the fog of desire that had clouded Henry's mind. All at once, Henry was reminded of where he was- standing in the freezing cold with wind whipping around him, hands prepared to roam lecherously over a girl who was definitely a kid. Henry had been bundled up warmly to prevent himself from freezing, and yet it didn't matter once the voice reached his ears. It was cold, sharp and eerie all at once, causing a shiver to run down his back as beads of sweat started to appear on cue. Like a haunting melody, a voice uttered to usher the dead into the afterlife. Ghostly.
Henry felt a multitude of emotions swarm him. Fear, distrust, panic. He had never been caught, not until now. How had he been so careless? Stupid. He had been caught. By who, it didn't matter. Not yet, anyway. Henry's mind wandered to the spare gold left in his pouch, even the cutlery he had stolen from the castle kitchens stowed safely in his leather sack.
Most peasants would die for those anyway. All he had to do was offer the slightest bit of money, a half hearted apology and everyone would turn a blind eye. Who wouldn't? A man's intention would be the least of anyone's concerns- everyone was just trying to make it through life.
Inwardly breathing a sigh of relief at his quick thinking, Henry slowly turned his being around to face the owner of the voice. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered that the voice he heard had a feminine, high pitched tone to it. Which made sense, given that the person in front of him was female.
While most of her body was covered by a plain black cloak, her face was only partly covered by the hood that had been drawn up to protect her identity. Her slender yet full lips were obvious, glistening with moisture and acting as a complement to her sharp chin and defined bone structure. Stunning already from the bottom half of her face, but she had clearly outgrown Henry's age limit. Pity.
"Look here miss," Henry began in a soothing voice, tone dropping to that of a velvety whisper "I was simply bringing this girl to see an interesting animal. Is against a law I was not aware of?"
"Is that animal hiding in your pants then? I see your belt is already undone, your pants about to drop. Do not take me for a fool." Her sentences were clipped yet precise, and a sense of dread began to creep over Henry as he realized she meant business. She wasn't going to leave without a more convincing explanation. Fucking hell.
"I'm sure a little bit of coin would help give you a better explanation miss, or perhaps anything else you desire?"
"I desire the truth." Her voice had a cabalistic sound to it, like windchimes being blown in the soothing caress of the autumn wind.
"Listen here lady" Henry growled, the cold starting to set into his body as his frustration grew with the figure before him. Why wouldn't she just piss off? "Either leave, or I'll show you how to fu-"
He never got to complete his sentence as white tendrils shot towards him in an instant, wrapping around his figure and rendering him helpless as it encased everything but his neck and head in a jail of powdery white...ice? A sound was never made, save for the soft hissing of molecules being turned to pure, unfiltered ice in a split second, stretching out towards the perpetrator.
Of course, Henry was oblivious to it all.
He couldn't comprehend what had just occurred, his mind already beginning to shut down with the extreme cold now reaching his bones. Attempting to move a muscle, Henry was only met with complete failure as he found himself unable to wiggle his fingers nor his toes. Almost as if he had been frozen to the brink of certain death.
This figure clearly had transcendental and esoteric power on another level. Nope, not in his paycheck that's for sure.
And yet, to Henry his alcohol-riddled mind instinctively decided that his drink must have had some potion added into it, for he simply could not fathom a female could wield such power, let alone with such grace and control. The ice had been wickedly manipulated to surround his being entirely in a cage, making him immobile and speechless but still responsive. A work of art really. Frozen beauty was embodied throughout the streamlined decorations of the cage, Henry realized, in intricate snowy patterns that danced across the inner and outer linings of the cage. In the light of the pale cold moon, it glinted with a mysterious sheen, a puzzle waiting to be uncovered under the scrutiny of the perceptive.
It really was ice in its coldest, purest, most magnificent form. Resplendent but restrained, controlled by its owner. Henry had to fucking deny it, he fucking had to! No female could or should even come close to this power, not in any goddamn kingdom. Henry would rather die then believe it. To him, male hierarchy was key to his survival and perspective on life- without men in charge, where would society be?
Maybe in a better place, but Henry wouldn't know.
Out of the corner of his eye, Henry saw the figure's head shift towards something behind him, before nodding in the direction of the tavern as a form of gesture. This action was immediately followed by padded footsteps against the large amounts of snow blanketing the area, which could only mean one thing. The girl had ran away, leaving Henry denied of his chance to finally release copious amounts of tension that had been built wandering the bitter mountains.
Son of a bitch...
Upon the insistence of sub zero temperatures settling into his body, Henry's attention was sharply returned to the precarious situation he was in. Sure, the blizzard might have brought some snow, but he felt like he was standing in Oslo in January with the unfiltered ice up to his knee.
This woman was crazy as -
As if fueled by some abrupt and unadulterated rage, a hand flew towards Henry's throat in a flash, cutting off both his thoughts and oxygen supply as long slender fingers suddenly commanded a vice-like grip around his neck.
Henry immediately felt the world turn upside down as his vision became fucked up on a whole different level, his body struggling for oxygen whilst attempting to comprehend the sudden inexplicable force around his voicebox.
Choking out a whine, he saw blackspots dance across his eyes, numbness causing several limbs to stiffen and leaving no chance of escape. Pain had set in a long time ago, but with those fingers digging in with a vengeance Henry experienced agony like he never had before. As the life was choked out of him, he felt pain explode in 5 different points across his neck, causing him to wince and grunt in discomfort as he felt warm liquid beginning to ooze out.
Blood.
Blood gushing out of the open wounds that had been caused by the figure's deathly sharp nails, seeping the very life out of him and dwindling his chances of survival. Pain had taken over Henry by now, and he could not even thrash his legs to disperse his hopelessness at the situation. He couldn't even see with his vision already fading, pockets of white appearing in his peripherals along with the occasional black cloak.
"Kids gone, darling, its just you and me." Laced with open cruelty and sick happiness, Henry could feel her pleasure at his pain, could feel her malicious grin as she muttered her words. Happiness at the massive amount of agony coursing through his veins, at the blood that was surely streaming down his throat, over her fingers and dripping onto the ground.
With no sound other than his ragged attempts for air and the figure's relaxed breathing, she continued to strangle Henry with ease under a cruel gaze
"Picking on kids, seems Oslo has reached a new low, huh?" Although phrased as a question, it was oddly laced with familiarity and suspicion, like a nostalgic hatred for the country Henry was born and raised in.
With so much fucking ease.
Anger welled up in Henry. How could he let this happen? He was born of a noble house with 4 brothers at his side, a large house near the castle and the town centre. His family owned two farms for fuck sake, He would be damned if he didn't at least put up a fight.
Using the last reserves of his strength, Henry swiftly jerked his head forward towards his attacker before chomping down hard on the figure's wrist, satisfaction kicking in as his teeth sunk into unprotected flesh. The cloak had ridden up as she had choked the life out of Henry, and fortunately he was able to use this to his advantage.
A yelp of pain rang throughout the clearing, surprise evident as her fingers finally released Henry's throat in an attempt to get rid of Henry's bite. As the pressure on his throat disappeared, so did Henry's bite, and he dropped to the ground wheezing and sputtering for air.
He couldn't waste time! And with renewed vigor, he swiftly stood up as his hand reached down smoothly across his waist, drawing his dagger with grace only achieved from intense training as a castle guard designed to protect royalty.
He didn't get far.
As his eyes swung up from the blood-stained snow to his attacker, his eyes widened in shock as he saw a bloody fist speeding towards him with intent and purpose. Brimming with pure power and energy, Henry was as good as dead. He was about to be pulverized.
Well, bummer.
As his imminent death approached, he couldn't help but gasp at the attackers features, noticing that her hood had slipped off from the apparent struggle.
Stunning white hair tied into a half braid, almost glowing in the moonlight in ethereal beauty. Flawless complexion and perfect eyebrows screamed magnificence, as her sharp nose was striking alongside her light makeup. Small ears, distracting eyelashes and her light splash of freckles across her cheeks all combined to make the most dazzling and alluring face Henry had seen since he was born. And those eyes.
Piercing cerulean blue irises surrounded an ocean of black that stared right into his soul, an unforgettable image Henry would surely bring with him to hell. Beautiful yet spectral in nature. A sea of emotions clear as day thrashing around in agony, wanting release as a thunderstorm brewed in those pupils. All at once, blue eyes bored into black.
And yet there was something familiar about it, making Henry recall certain memories of attending a royal's birthday from a distant allied kingdom. A flash of blue, funfare noises and sounds of laughter and joy plagued Henry all at once. A cake twice his size, made just for one special girl. A special princess-
The fist found its target, and with a satisfying crunch of a hundred bones all breaking at once, Henry knew nothing more.