AN: Sorry for the long wait.
But life got in the way.
I've been focused on my new job and my new apartment.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy my new chapter.
Thank you.
Kristoff gritted his teeth.
The enemy was everywhere!
All he could hear were the sounds of swords clanging against one another, the incoherent shouts of his fellow soldiers and the growls coming from their enemies. He could also hear the screams from other people as they were impaled by swords, spears and other weapons. It was chaotic, noisy and it was all Kristoff could do to remain standing and holding off the enemy.
The sky was so dark, it was blacker than ash. There wasn't a single sun, moon, star or cloud in the sky. He couldn't even tell if it was night or day, as the sky was inhumanly darkened. As if an artist was staring at a canvas and wanted to make it as dark as possible.
He couldn't tell friend from foe sometimes.
The ground was littered with mud, blood and the growing piles of the dead. Kristoff looked around frantically for his friends.
At least Olaf was smart enough to hide.
He wouldn't have been any use in the battlefield.
But there was no sign of his longtime buddy. For as long as Kristoff could remember, Sven was by his side. Unfortunately, they got separated as soon as the battle began.
The last time he saw Sven was his beloved reindeer trying to race to his side.
But a bunch of rushing soldiers from both sides of the conflict got in the way.
Kristoff hacked at every enemy he could with his sword. His shield was dented due to the numerous blows it received from various weapons. He was bruised and bloodied and hurt all over, but he couldn't afford to go off somewhere to lick his wounds.
It was all he could do to keep from getting impaled or stabbed.
But he was grimly aware of the numerous cuts that kept leaking blood from all over his person.
Only his adrenalin and "fight or flight" instinct kept him going. Kristoff wasn't a natural fighter and it was all he could do to prevent himself from collapsing into exhaustion.
It was terrible.
Battle wasn't an epic tale for glory like the stories foretold. Even though it wasn't the time or place, he couldn't help recalling the stories that his parents used to recite to him as a child. They would wish to shield him from the darker and more realistic elements of battle and would paint them in a more idealistic and almost romantic light. He was finding out that life was no fairy tale, especially in the fields of war and battle.
It was costly, bloody and chaotic. Kristoff couldn't even grieve for the fellow soldiers he had befriended and lost due to this pointless, fucked-up war.
There was no time for regret.
In the end, it became a battle for survival.
He wanted to drop his sword and shield and press his hands over his ears. Not only did he hear the screams of the wounded and dying, he could hear the pleas and anguished cries for help from women as they were being dragged away by the enemy for some "fun".
The smell of burning buildings and flesh filled the air.
As did smoke while nearby buildings were set aflame.
People who were trapped inside were banging on doors and windows, trying in vain to escape. Their refuge became their prison as the buildings were carefully barricaded and boarded up beforehand so the enemy couldn't get to them. Too late did they realize that it was a trap.
Kristoff couldn't help them.
He was surrounded by shadowy soldiers and monsters from all sides.
He could only watch and hear as women were being dragged off for sport or as people were being burned alive. The whole thing looked like a war painting from the portrait room.
Only these weren't two dimensional figures of painted flesh.
This was all too real.
General Matthias was only several feet away. He wore a crude band over his right eye as he'd lost it during a previous battle. Lieutenant Eamon was somewhat hobbled as he fought with his remaining left arm. He had lost his right limb during a previous skirmish.
But he didn't shy away from his duty.
Like a true soldier, he would fight to the bitter end.
It was hard to say who was winning. So far, every battle ended in a stalemate. While there were many traits of the human race that were less than stellar, there were facets that could be considered admirable nevertheless. One of those facets was tenacity.
No one wanted to give up or surrender.
They couldn't.
While people have fought in wars before, the stakes were never higher. The fate of the world was at stake. Kristoff couldn't say how he knew. But it was a strong feeling.
He could feel it in his bones.
He learned the hard way to never ignore his instincts ever since the war began.
Kristoff pushed his shame and guilt to the back of his mind as best he could. But he was human, not a rock. His failures in the villages of Smael and Fiska haunted him this day.
He would never forget the look of shock and horror on the faces of the widows.
The look of bitterness and anger on the children's faces as they glared at him.
The smoldering remains of the homes and buildings.
The ever-growing piles of bodies to either be burned or buried in mass graves.
The scent of the scorched and blackened earth.
The trees bereft of leaves, their branches extended like clawed, demonic fingers.
The thousand yard stare of the surviving soldiers.
The barking orders of the doctors and nurses as they tended to the wounded in tents.
The zombified state of the defiled women as they stumbled about in torn clothing.
Kristoff didn't blame the surviving villagers for their lingering grief, bitterness and anger as he felt he should have done better in those battles. But he was an ice harvester, not a war commander or general. Unfortunately, as he was the king, it was expected of him to lead the Arendellian soldiers into battle.
He shuddered.
The less said about the ironically named village of Ragnorak, the better.
Then he sternly ordered himself to focus as a new band of marauding enemies started to rush him. In the beginning, the frenzied bloodlust in their eyes unnerved him.
Now, their avarice for blood and destruction didn't faze him.
It was as familiar as his reflection in a mirror.
Matthias and Eamon rushed to his side, ready to defend the king to their last breath. In the past, Kristoff would order them to leave him alone as he didn't want their deaths on his conscience. But in this instance, they refused to obey his commands.
Deep down, Kristoff knew why he didn't protest nearly as much as he should have.
Truth be told, he was grateful to have actual fighters by his side.
Unfortunately, for all of their grit and determination, they were starting to get overwhelmed due to sheer numbers alone. More and more of those inhuman bastards kept coming.
Even those they killed would be brought back to life by an unholy force.
And their numbers would multiply by the hour.
The humans could not say the same. They didn't have powers and were thusly bound by earthly limitations. Kristoff couldn't even quantify how many fighters they had lost.
Not to mention innocent civilians caught in the crossfire.
There was a growing number of words on his list that he began to despise.
In other words, he heard the term "collateral damage" more times than he cared to count. To this day, he couldn't fathom how indifferent the more experienced soldiers were as they casually recounted the damage and number of civilians lost after every skirmish and battle. Matthias tried to explain it as best he could.
He tried to defend their point of view.
Civilian casualties and collateral damage were facts of life during a war.
If a soldier let the thoughts of the innocents suffering the costs of this war overwhelm him, he would be less effective in battle. You couldn't afford to let your "weaker" emotions get the better of you when every second counted.
It was also a matter of sanity.
The soldiers would distance themselves from their emotions to preserve their minds.
In some ways, the aftermath of the war was something a soldier struggled with. You could push aside those thoughts when there was an enemy to defeat. But you become accustomed to war, blood and violence. Eventually, the war ends and you have to deal with the aftermath.
It was why so many soldiers struggled during peacetime.
Once again, Kristoff ordered himself to focus.
They were in the middle of a bloody battle-literally and metaphorically-and he was allowing his thoughts to wander like a lost lamb in the woods!
Kristoff fought back as much as he could.
He wished that he spent more time learning how to fight.
But the enemy came from out of nowhere and he could only learn from Matthias and Eamon during their downtime. Unfortunately, those moments were few, far and in between.
The enemy was relentless.
They never knew when the attack would come.
Unfortunately, it didn't help that the enemy included inhuman soldiers that defied any worldly description that Kristoff could come up with. They were ruthless and deadly.
Their loyalty to their unseen and unknown leader absolute.
No one could bribe or sway them.
It was as if they had never heard of the word "mercy". It soon became apparent that luck was not on their side today. All of the other soldiers were dead, but Kristoff, Eamon and Matthias had no time to mourn the fallen. It wasn't long before the three of them became boxed in.
Grimly, they stood back to back in a triangle.
Ready to die on their own terms in one, final stand.
Slowly, the enemy began to close in, like a slobbering wolf stalking its prey. They would lick their lips with their inhumanly long tongues. Their savage glee darkening their eyes. Clearly, they were ready to draw this out for their sadistic enjoyment for as long as possible. Judging from the way they were leering at Kristoff, he was their target.
Before he could blink, Kristoff was behind Matthias and Eamon.
He had been shoved behind them by the former.
As corny and clichéd as it sounded, Kristoff felt his entire life flash before his eyes. There were so many things that he wanted to do. He started to regret lost opportunities as he realized that he had been taking his life for granted.
When was the last time he hugged his wife?
Kissed her lips?
Enjoyed her passion as they became one?
Spent time with her?
As sad as it sounded, Kristoff couldn't help feeling it's been an entire lifetime since he saw her last. During the few moments he was able to get some sleep, he would use his memories of their life together to lull him into dreamland.
It almost felt like he was starting to forget her face.
As the enemy started to leap at them, Kristoff instinctively got into a defensive, crouch position, visibly braced himself and got ready. He let out a defiant yell as he started to raise his sword.
Before the first demon could reach him, it was pushed back by an unseen force.
Kristoff, Matthias and Eamon blinked dumbly, wondering what the hell just happened.
Funnily enough, the other soldiers started to do the same. All they could do was stare incomprehensively at the downed demon, who twitched several times before laying still.
Incredibly enough, it wasn't reanimated.
What the-
They got their answer soon enough. A familiar whinny reached Kristoff's ears. For the first time in months, he felt a small flicker of hope, akin to a small flame atop a candle. The enemy let out startled screams as they were pushed back by a rush of water.
The Nokk whinnied its defiance as it ran adroitly over the rushing waves.
Bruni looked cute yet defiant as he leapt among the demons at astonishing speeds.
They let out angry growls of annoyance and defiance as they were set aflame. Gale did her part as she rushed at the enemy in a series of tornadoes and swirling winds.
They began flying all over the place.
It wasn't long before another presence made itself known.
Maybe, he amended, he should say HERself. She bought them much needed time and breathing room as she either sent the demonic soldiers flying or froze them completely. Kristoff dared to smile for the first time since the battle began.
But Elsa looked so...different.
No longer was her hair a pristine white with silver highlights.
It was caked with blood and hung with uneven clumps. Her white cape was in tatters and her matching outfit was in an equally sorry state. It was hanging up by a series of tattered thread, it would seem. There was a long scar marring her lovely features.
It started just over her right eye and continued through.
Stopping just at the top of her mouth on the right side.
Her eyes, which once held hope and happiness at finding her proper place in life, were cold, empty and as icy as the waters surrounding Ahtohallan.
She had lost her innocence, the void being replaced with harsh wisdom.
Kristoff could grimly and freely admit he could relate.
There was no time for a reunion. The reprieve was over once the demons got over their shock at Elsa's sudden arrival. There was no time to think as Kristoff, Matthias and Eamon began to fight once more. Kristoff had another heart-stopping moment as a demon leapt at his unguarded back, its fanged bared and its claws extended. He only had enough time to realize his danger when he heard a demonic roar get closer as the demon neared its target: him.
Reflexively, Kristoff (stupidly) closed his eyes and braced himself for impact.
It never came.
Sven roared his own defiance as he leaped into the air and headbutted the demon into a nearby tree. He didn't give the enemy any surcease as he used his hooves to kick them away.
Or he would use his antlers to great effect.
Kristoff smiled in spite of himself and absently patted Sven's head in gratitude.
It seemed like the tide was about to turn their favor, thanks to the arrival of Elsa, the Elemental Spirits and Sven. Kristoff began to feel they just might win this battle.
Then he paused.
He dropped his sword and shield. They fell in a clatter.
No one else noticed his frozen state as they were still fighting. Dumbly, Kristoff glanced down. It was almost like he was observing everything from a distance.
There was a dull roaring in his ears.
He could hear his heartbeat getting louder in his ears.
It was like his head was stuffed with cotton. The sounds of battle started to get more and more muffled. He glanced upwards again. The others were still fighting.
No one noticed that something was wrong.
Not even Sven.
He glanced downwards again...at the sword impaling his stomach.
Slowly, he turned around to face the owner of said sword.
"Anna?"