AN: Some violence. It's not my fault. Also it occured to me today that the first three letters in tyranny is Tyr. So . . . there's that.
Thank you everyone who has reviewed, I hope everyone enjoys the chapter and remember, it's not my fault. :D
Anna figured it could be worse. She was being held against her will, confined to a small, drafty tent, and only allowed to see her sister for five minutes a day, but she still figured it could be worse. Her tent was equipped with a pallet stacked with fur blankets that was comfortable enough, and a basic desk and chair. It wasn't the worst setup and was certainly more than the cot her sister had, and the Sirma hadn't shackled her to a pole like Elsa, so she was free to roam within the tent. She just wasn't free to do much more than that. Erik had offered to try to find something for her to read, all Anna could do was nod tightly while she imagined the satisfaction of flinging the book at his head.
She hadn't seen anything of Tyr, though that wasn't surprising. His only interest in her thus far had been as a tool to be wielded against her own sister. Beyond that, he seemed uttered disinterested in her existence. During the few trips she had outside the tent, she had started to notice a distinct difference between the way the soldiers acted around her, and the way they acted around Elsa. Small things, like the fact that while the soldiers she encountered were mostly ambivalent toward her, they were also civil, even polite. On the short visits to where her sister was being held, however, she had caught the guards eyeing Elsa with distrust, almost like she was an insult on their very way of life. The visits had been so few and short, it could just be something to do with those specific guards, but Anna couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more going on, something that made her all the more nervous for her sister. It felt as though the entire situation was a powder keg about to explode.
In her heart, Anna knew exactly what was behind Tyr's disinterest, Erik's politeness, and the soldiers' civility. They all perceived her as not a threat, thought of her as harmless. She refused to be insulted, instead decided that she would let them go on thinking that, even play into the part where she could. Stumbling over the rough ground as though she'd tripped, talking animatedly and non-stop to the guards when they escorted her. While, in actuality, each time Anna was able to leave the tent she worked to commit the layout of the camp to memory, adding a little more information each time. She talked her escorts' ears off, rambling about herself and her sister – nothing serious or deep, just little tidbits and stories disguised as nervous idle chatter from a trusting princess. Things she hoped would humanize them to the soldiers, making them more likely to help if the opportunity arose. It was something she had read in a book long ago.
She loved her sister dearly and would do anything for her, even if it meant gritting her teeth and being friendly with their captors. Maybe she could convince one of them to allow her to send a note to Elsa or speak with her a little more privately. Anna chewed on her bottom lip, understanding that gaining that kind of trust was going to take time, time she wasn't sure Elsa had. She still didn't know what had happened between her sister and Tyr at the fort but couldn't forget the resignation in Elsa's eyes, that frightening look that felt so much like giving up. She was terrified that once her sister was forced to fight in this war, no matter what happened after, there would be no coming back from that.
They'd already been at the Sirma camp for three days and though nothing had yet happened, Anna could feel the tension thrumming in the air, the calm before the storm. Noises outside her tent had her rising from the fur-piled pallet and moving swiftly to the entrance. She pulled the flap back just enough to see outside, but not enough for the guard standing out front to take notice. From her vantage point she could see the front of the command tent. Currently, there were horses stomping impatiently in front of it, and she spotted Tyr talking to Erik. The younger brother seemed unhappy about what Tyr was saying, but was nodding his head all the same.
Anna's heart sank when she saw two guards bring Elsa out from the tent. They had a firm grip around each of her arms, despite the fact Elsa's own hands were shackled in front of her. From this distance her sister's face looked calm and passive, an expression that suggested she was doing nothing more than going for an afternoon walk. But the faint glow from the cuffs around her wrists, the tension in her shoulders, and the whiteness in her fisted knuckles told a different story. One Anna herself would have missed if she hadn't spent the days prior to their capture watching her sister like a hawk, on alert for the slightest tells.
Anna's chest tightened and her heart pounded in her ears as she watched the guards all but shove Elsa into the saddle of a waiting horse, one whose lead was tied to Tyr's own horse. Her sister looked in her direction and their eyes locked as Tyr pulled himself up on to his horse. With a rough jerk of the reins, the horses jolted forward.
Anna twitched, her fingers tightening around the flap of the tent. She wanted to follow them, to see where they were going, but she already knew. As her sister rode out of her limited view, there was nothing for Anna to do but worry, for Elsa's safety, and the was a very real chance her sister may not come back.
The ride out had only taken a few hours, by Elsa's estimation, but the fact that the light had been slowly fading from the sky on the way left her feeling uneasy. She didn't need practical experience in war to know that nighttime battles were not only difficult, but dangerous for all parties involved. The falling night didn't seem to concern Tyr in the slightest, riding just a few steps ahead of her with the lead of her horse tied securely to his saddle. A company of soldiers marched on foot behind their horses. She was a skilled rider but uncomfortable on a horse over which she had no control. Her hands were still shackled and the fact she had nothing but the saddle or horse's mane to hold onto made for an awkward ride.
It was dusk when they crested the hill, the edge of the horizon alight with brilliant oranges and deep purples as Tyr brought the party to a halt. He dismounted and spoke in a hushed voice with three other men, all of them pointing and gesturing around the area. Elsa waited anxiously on top her own horse, looking over the grassy field that lay in front of them. Even in the fading light, she could see from the top of the hill where the field dipped into a shallow valley and stretched on for miles, a stream ran across the middle at least fifty feet from their current position. She didn't know whether she should try dismounting, though she was unsure she even could get down from the horse on her own with her hands bound as they were. She remained still, waiting, playing the part of prisoner. At least for the moment, while she was bound and cut off from her magic.
She would look for an opening, fairly certain that if she could catch Tyr off-guard, she could easily make it back to camp, and to Anna, ahead of him or any other soldiers out here. After a few moments, the guard holding her horse moved next to her.
"Dismount," he ordered in a clipped tone.
Elsa swallowed thickly, her heartrate increasing as she continued to draw closer to the prospect of this battle. She wrapped her fingers around the saddle as best she could and swung her leg over, lowering herself toward the ground. Her bare foot slipped, and she would have fallen to the ground if not for the soldier's quick reflexes. He withdrew his hands just as quickly, stepping back to lead the horse away and leaving her standing alone on the hill until Tyr finally made his way over.
"It's time to see if you're worth all this trouble, witch," he said, his voice a deep rumble. Without warning he grabbed Elsa's bound hands, jerking them so hard she felt a twinge all the way up into her shoulders and making quick work of the shackles around her wrist.
Her breath seized in her chest as anticipation flooded through her. Finally, she would be able to use her magic again. And with that at her disposal, all she needed was an opening, and maybe she could get herself and Anna out of this. It wouldn't be easy; Elsa had no doubts Tyr would be watching her closely. He had been too careful up to this point to do otherwise, so she would have to continue to play along until the battle began and his attention was elsewhere. She could do this.
Elsa looked over the sprawling plain that would soon become a bloody battlefield, her fingers curling into a fist. She took a steadying breath, reminding herself that she was doing this, that she was here, to protect Anna. Tyr twisted her wrist, and she was unable to stop the wince that crossed her face. Her gaze was drawn downward, to the star-like indentation on the underside of the cuff.
With his free hand, Tyr reached into his shirt and removed a pendant that hung from a cord around his neck. Elsa frowned at the pendant, having never noticed it before. Tyr dragged the cord over his head and pressed the small pendant into the indentation. He twisted it, and the stone imbedded in the cuff ceased glowing. He moved to her left hand, repeating the process. Even though both cuffs remained around her wrists, the light on both stones had faded, and Elsa knew they were no longer absorbing or blocking her magic.
In mere seconds, Elsa could feel a difference. The band that had seemed to be wrapped tightly around her chest disappeared, allowing a release of the ice that had been building up within her. An electrifying chill zipped through her veins and traveled along her skin as the magic rushed back, filling her being to the brim with the power that had been absorbed and blocked by the cuffs. The feeling was intoxicating, like a coming up for a breath of air.
Somewhere in the corner of her mind, Elsa knew the feeling should worry her, should scare her even, but the brief misgivings were quickly drowned out as she embraced the full force of her magic. For the first time since she built the ice palace on the North Mountain, the magic within her was not a tool to be wielded, but a powerful extension of her very self.
They had brought her food hours ago, a decent enough meal of stewed meat and potatoes with a hunk of bread. She eyed it a few times, telling herself she should eat, but she couldn't stomach the thought, not while her sister could be in danger. No, Anna corrected herself, was in danger. She wrung her hands as she paced, frustrated that the tent was too small to allow her enough steps to really stomp out the anxiety that was making her heart race and her head buzz.
No matter how hard she tried she couldn't stop imagining the countless horrible situations Elsa might be in at that very moment. The only reference Anna had to what battles and fights were like all came from stories she'd heard, most of them works of fiction where the good guy pulled through in the last moment and saved the day. She wasn't naïve enough to think them an accurate portrayal, and thus was left with what her own treacherous imagination came up with for the kind of battle her sister might be in the middle of.
It was louder than she expected.
And the smell . . .
As they rode down the hill and into the sprawling field, the horse's hooves clomping mutedly against the rock and soft dirt, Elsa hadn't known what to expect. She had spent years studying the wars and battles of the past, reading about them in books, listening to her father's lessons and stories. She was prepared for the battle to be messy and hectic, knew that moves and countermoves would be employed, like a game of chess with far higher stakes and a more permanent result.
But she now knew that there were things never talked about in books, things her father never prepared her for. Things stories and lessons couldn't do justice, things she now understood were beyond description. Things she would never, ever tell Anna. There was no single word that could encompass the noise of the battlefield, the clanging echo of steel swords slamming together, the agonized yells and hoarse battle cries of soldiers as they collided in a tangle of sweaty, blood-covered limbs.
And the smell . . . Elsa didn't even know how to describe it. Wasn't sure she could. The salty scent of sweat, the coppery tang of blood, the fresh breeze blowing across the field, weaving in a crisp scent of late fall and fresh soil with the carnage. The resulting mixture was an odor she knew she would always remember, assuming she survived.
As the battle raged, she did her best to use her magic to give the Sirma the advantage without directly hurting any of the enemy soldiers. She had been successful this far, and though it was taking more concentration and delicate work then she had anticipated, she was able to weave her magic without feeling drained or tired by the powerful cuffs around her wrists. Elsa created icy spots under the feet of enemy soldiers, twisted the wind and filled it with large thick snowflakes to obscure their view, and raised ice walls to protect Sirma soldiers from incoming blows. The entire time, she kept one eye on Tyr.
She had expected him to join the fray with the twin axes he had hanging from his belt, but surprisingly, and much to her displeasure, he hung back, carefully staying out of her line of fire. His distrust in her was made all the more obvious by the presence of two soldiers standing just behind her, their weapons drawn and ready to attack at any sign of deception. She needed to cause a distraction, something to draw the attention of the two soldiers and Tyr away long enough to get a head start.
The glittering surface of the stream just fifty yards away caught Elsa's eye and sparked an idea. She knew it probably wasn't the best idea, and she wasn't even sure it would work. On the chance it didn't draw their attention enough to give her an opening, however, she was sure Tyr and the other Sirma would just assume it was another trick to aid the battle.
She twisted her hands toward the stream, freezing the water. In one smooth motion, she threw her hands upward, causing a thick wall of ice to explode up from the creek bed, six feet high with jagged pieces of ice protruding from the wall, moonlight offering them a threatening sort of gleam in the otherwise dark night.
Elsa heard the shuffling of the soldiers moving behind her and took advantage of their surprise, rotating swiftly to shoot ice at the hands holding their weapons. She twisted her wrist and froze the men in place from the waist down, rooting them to the earth and preventing them from giving chase. Without hesitation, she took off at a sprint. Head spinning, she knew the first thing she needed to do was to put some immediate distance between herself and the Sirma, then she could create an ice creature of some sort to carry her to camp far faster than any horse could follow. Each impact of her bare feet against the hard ground left a trail of slick ice and jagged frosty spikes, anything to keep the Sirma from catching up to her.
Elsa only made it twenty feet before a frighteningly familiar pain ricocheted up both arms, and the stones embedded in her cuffs flared brightly in the dark night. The shock of pain knocked her off-balance, and her foot hit the ground at an agonizing angle before the rest of her body followed suit, crumbling to the hard dirt with a bone-rattling impact. No.She bit her lip and rolled, still trying to catch her breath as she planted her palms atop the ground and shoved herself back upright. She couldn't stop now. She barely made it to her feet when something struck the side of her face with resounding crack. The force spun her body around as the ground fell away, and she landed in the dirt face-first.
Ears ringing, chest heaving, she blinked hard, struggling to pull the dim world into focus. Her left cheek was throbbing and blood filled her mouth from where her teeth had dug into the inside of her cheek. Still, Elsa never stopped moving, tried to drag herself back to her feet. She got no further than her knees when a beefy hand wrapped around her throat and she was yanked up from the ground.
She clawed at the fingers around her neck, freezing as she came face-to-face with Tyr. His face glowed red with unbridled anger, and Elsa's eyes widened as his grip tightened, cutting off her air.
"You really think I wouldn't be prepared?" He seethed, squeezing tighter, until she gagged. "That I wouldn't be able to stop you?"
Elsa pulled desperately at his hands. Her lungs were burning but she could drag in any oxygen around his hold. The light from the cuff's glowing stones tore through the night, her magic responding to her panic as she slowly suffocated.
Anna, I'm sorry, she thought as spots filled her vision. Tyr's face grew hazy as pain and dizziness overtook her.
He ground his teeth, crushing her throat in the wake of a vicious snarl. Consciousness was slipping from her grasp like sand through her fingers. Elsa was on the brink of passing out when Tyr suddenly released her, dropping her to the ground like a marionette with its strings cut.
She sucked greedily at the cool night air, pulling in one desperate, ragged lungful of oxygen after another, wheezing painfully around her abused windpipe.
Fire ignited in her ribcage as Tyr kicked her in the side, flipping her onto her back. She cried out hoarsely, her back arching off the ground.
He knelt next to her and gripped her tunic, lifting her shoulders off the ground. "You're lucky you have proven yourself useful here today, witch. That is the only reason you're alive right now." He stopped and looked at something across the field, then dropped her roughly back to the hard-packed dirt. "I'll deal with your treachery later." He nodded to someone out of Elsa's line of sight, and rose.
Elsa curled on the ground, awash in agony, unable to think about anything except her next breath, and the one after that, each one grating in her already swelling airway. She was unsure she would be able to get up if she wanted to. A Sirma soldier grabbed her limp hands from the ground and locked the shackles around her wrists. He then made the decision for her, dragging her upright. Elsa's head spun nauseatingly at the sudden change in elevation and she fought vainly to keep the black spots at bay, reminding herself to keep breathing even as it grew more painful and her throat felt tighter with each passing second.
The soldier grabbed her upper arm and hauled her toward the spot where the horses had been hitched, away from the battle. Elsa's stomach flopped. She screwed up. She took a chance, and missed her shot. Tremors wracked her body as fear rose within her. Her actions were going to have repercussions; she knew that much.
The question was, who would be paying them?
Muted hoof beats thumped outside the tent, a whinny from the horses and the party came to a stop. Elsa. Anna hurried to the tent's entrance and pulled back the flap. She had to squint through the darkness, but in a splash of moonlight caught the form of her sister being tugged along by a pair of Sirma soldiers. Elsa's head hung limply, and from across the way, Anna couldn't tell if she was holding any of her own weight.
Panic surged in her chest and she stepped forward, only to have an arm like a tree trunk block her path.
"Sorry, Princess," the guard told her gruffly.
Anna could only watch with wide eyes and galloping heart as her sister disappeared into the command tent.
Elsa pressed the back of her head against the pole, arching her spine as she dragged in a wheezing breath around the tight swelling in her throat.
The battle had been quick and intense, even from her slightly removed perspective, distanced from the bulk of the action. Elsa had surprised herself, easily losing herself in her own magic and focusing on what she needed to do. She had expected it to be harder to use her magic in such a way, felt it should have been harder, and that she should be concerned it wasn't. But that had been during the battle and her short-lived escape attempt.
Now, was a different story.
Once they returned to camp and she was left alone in the command tent with nothing and no one around, that's when everything hit her, like a stampede of reindeer. That's when the reality of had just transpired sank in, when the smells and sounds of the battle caught up with her, when the sight of warriors clashing so viciously that ground was soaked within minutes with blood slammed into her.
She couldn't stop trembling. The tremors weren't confined to her aching arms, but wracked her entire body, jostling her sore side and clacking her teeth together, ratcheting up the ache in her swollen cheek. Her legs were curled under her, and she rested the best she could on her good side against the pole, staring at the cot only a few feet away. Right now, Elsa wasn't thinking about pride, or defiance; she was thinking about how good it would feel to lay down and sleep. Except she didn't think she could move even that far right now.
Her chest felt tight, her throat burned like she had swallowed shards of molten glass, and each breath was more of a struggle than the last as her windpipe continued to swell. Elsa knew she should be worried about that as well but couldn't summon the energy required. Instead, she just shifted against the pole, trying to find a position that would allow her to breathe.
She didn't know how long she had been alone in the tent. She drifted lightly, her body and mind too exhausted to remain conscious any longer, but between her racing heart, the persistent tremors, and her swollen airway, Elsa found no relief. Each time she started to doze, her body would betray her, pain and discomfort violently ripping her back from the brink of tantalizing unconsciousness.
Elsa raised her gaze to the cot, once more debating an attempt to move to it, when she was startled by the sound of horses stomping outside the tent. Her chest tightened further, until she could barely breathe, as the tent flap was pushed open and Tyr stalked inside.
The hulking man stopped at the entrance and spoke to the guard, so quietly that Elsa couldn't hear what was being said over the buzzing in her ears. The guard nodded and exited the tent, and her heart stuttered at the thought of being left alone with Tyr.
He grabbed a stool and carried it over to where Elsa sat on the ground, placed it just beyond her reach as if she had the energy to think about trying anything. Tyr sat heavily, regarding her with a searching glare. The way one might look at an animal that was curiously misbehaving.
Elsa clenched her jaw and attempted to draw herself higher, to sit taller, the entire time keeping her eyes on the man in front of her. She waited for him to speak first, because she didn't know what he was going to do, but mostly because she didn't want to know how badly speaking was going to hurt if pulling in a simple breath was causing her such pain.
Tyr leaned forward, placing an elbow on his knee while dragging the fingers of his other hand across his chin. Finally, after another moment of tense silence, he spoke. "I underestimated you. Your magic, and your will." The anger that had previously colored his tone was gone. In its place was a calculated calmness, one that worried Elsa more than the anger ever had. Anger meant Tyr was unpredictable, but this calmness meant he was dangerous.
"My brother was right," Tyr continued. "You are strong, and though you don't deserve the gift you have, you wield it well. The battle may have been lost without your magic, though it almost was due to your actions. And I cannot have that."
Elsa tensed, watching Tyr with a careful eye while trying to control her breathing and appear stronger than she currently felt.
He straightened, bracing his hands on his thighs. "I had imagined the death of your soldiers in the fort would have been sufficient enough to break you. I assumed you were just a fragile girl with magic far beyond your understanding and control. I miscalculated. I will not make such a mistake a second time." Tyr stood and moved the stool away, walked back toward the entrance of the tent.
Elsa slumped against the pole, a desperate sort of hope that this was going to be the end of the discussion. That foolish glimmer of hope was shattered as Tyr pulled back the tent flap, standing aside to make room for two soldiers to escort her sister inside.
The chain attached to her shackles rattled loudly as she shoved herself to her knees. "Anna," Elsa croaked.
