AN: Happy labor day! Whatever that is. I was doing edits today an realized I was at 4k words and saw a good spot to end the chapter so, after the cliffhanger of the last chapter I thought I would take pity and post what I have. I hope everyone enjoys the latest installment. Thank you all for your reviews.
"I had imagined the death of your soldiers at the fort would have been sufficient enough to break you. I assumed you were just another 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 with a desperate flush of hope that this would 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.
"Anna," Elsa croaked. The chain attached to her shackles rattled loudly as she moved to push herself to her knees.
Anna looked at her with large, wide eyes but she couldn't approach. Her arms held tightly by each of the soldiers, she was led to the table on the opposite side of the room.
"Elsa." Anna's eyes widened further as she searched Elsa's face. Her gaze ran the length of Elsa's tortured body before settling on what she had to assume was some impressive bruising around her neck. She turned to Tyr. "What did you do to her?" she spit angrily.
Tyr ignored the younger girl, his gaze locked on Elsa's. "I am nothing if not a man of my word, Your Majesty." He hooked a thumb on the side of his belt, just behind his axe. "I promised you I would not hurt your sister." He paused long enough to allow the words – the threat – to sink in. "So long as you didn't give me a reason to."
No. Elsa's heart skipped, and she shot to her feet faster than she thought she was capable of. Still, she stumbled, nearly falling over when the chain connected to the shackles stopped her from moving more than a foot away from the pole. She strained against the metal, feeling every inch of distance between herself and her sister. "Leave her be," she said, putting as much of an order as she could into her hoarse, failing voice.
"I told you before," Tyr said, raising his chin, "that you alone are responsible for bearing the consequences of the choices you make. In this case, however, your sister will bear those consequences, as well." He wrapped his hand around the hilt of his axe. "But, as I am not a complete monster and you did prove yourself useful last night, so I will go easy on her." He surveyed her a moment before adding, "I will even let you choose."
"What?" Elsa looked between Tyr and Anna, wanting to do something, to say something to reassure her sister that everything was going to be okay, but she couldn't think clearly, her mind racing to catch up with everything Tyr had said. "Let my sister go," she pleaded, no longer caring about making it sound like an order. "She didn't do anything."
Tyr pulled the axe from his belt and nodded to the soldier who had been guarding Elsa just moments earlier. The man wrapped a hand around Anna's wrist and twisted it, causing her sister to cry out in pain. He then jerked her arm forward, pressing her palm against the tabletop.
"Hey!" Anna tried to wrench her hand free, but the man tightened his hold, roughly pushing down on her arm until she yelped in pain. The second soldier grabbed her hand and uncurled her fingers until they lay flat. The entire time, Anna struggled to free herself, panic showing starkly in her wide eyes. "Get off me! What are you doing?"
"Pick a finger," Tyr said calmly, ignoring the struggle happening between Anna and the guards.
Elsa went still, her sluggish mind taking far too long to process the insane request.
"Pick a finger," he repeated slowly, his grip on his axe tightening.
Anna's breath hitched as her gaze darted from her trapped hand to the axe, then to Tyr. "No!" She renewed her struggling with fresh desperation. "Get off of me!" Her breath quickened and a cry escaped her lips as tears formed in her eyes. "Elsa!"
"Don't hurt her." Elsa's own breath jumped in her chest, until she felt lightheaded and dizzy. "Please, let her go. I swear, I won't try anything again." She strained against the shackles, feeling the rough edges of the metal bite into the exposed flesh of her wrist. The stones on the cuffs glowed brightly as her magic responded to the influx of emotion, and she tried to use the fresh sting of pain to ground herself. The wall blocking her magic gave, just slightly, as she slammed desperately against it, a soft crack that echoed in her ears only to be answered by the same mind-numbing pain she felt before. She struggled to keep her feet, her legs shaking so badly they were barely holding her weight.
"If you don't pick a finger, I will take her whole hand."
"Please." Elsa dug her bare feet into the ground, feeling hot, and dizzy. "Don't do this." Her overtaxed mind strained to come up with a way to get Anna out of this without getting hurt but was coming up blank. Her hands jerked against the chains as fear and desperation she hadn't felt in a long time crashed over her.
Anna bit into her lower lip and Elsa watched as tears filled her sister's eyes, as she sniffled.
Ice filled Elsa's gut and she suddenly felt sick to her stomach. She couldn't protect her sister; she was beyond helpless and at the mercy of this mad man. "I can't . . ." she said, barely above a whisper. Icy tears trailed down her cheeks as she continued to pull at the chain. "Please, don't . . ."
"Very well." Tyr lifted his axe as the soldier held Anna's hand tightly. Anna whimpered and turned her head away, burying it in her shoulder.
Elsa squeezed her eyes shut, mentally begging her sister to forgive her even as she knew she would never be able to forgive herself. Tyr swung the axe down in a powerful and swift arc, the blade connecting with the tabletop with a heavy thunk.
She steeled herself for the cry of pain from her little sister. When her ears were met with only silence, Elsa pried her eyes open, and the watery scene in front of her nearly caused her to pass out.
Erik stood in front of Anna, having somehow managed to shove the guard out of the way and pull her sister away from the table just before the axe hit.
"That's enough, Tyr," Erik bit out between clenched teeth. "She gets it. They both do."
Tyr leveled a glare at his brother. "You always were too soft."
"And you were always an overly aggressive asshole, so I guess that makes us even." Erik removed the axe from where it was imbedded in the table and tossed it onto the flat surface. "You have made your point. There's no need to go any further."
Tyr stared down his brother, seething and matching him glare for glare before he finally backed down. "Fine."
Erik breathed an obvious sigh of relief, then turned and laid a light hand on Anna's shoulder, guiding the shell-shocked girl out of the tent.
She took a few steps before stopping and turning. "No. Elsa."
Erik shook his head and ducked his chin, saying something to Anna that was too quiet for Elsa to hear. Anna looked back at her with wide eyes before nodding numbly and allowing Erik to guide her out of the tent.
Tyr glared at Elsa. "You got lucky this time," he snarled, jabbing a finger in her direction. "Perhaps you will remember who is in charge here. Next time, my brother won't be able to protect your precious sister." He stomped past the guards and left the tent.
Once more, she was alone but for one guard stationed at the entrance. Elsa's knees trembled, refusing to hold her up for a moment longer, and she hit the ground hard, tipping to the side and catching herself on equally shaky arms. The adrenaline that had been keeping her upright drained out of her system, leaving her woozy and cold. Sweat broke out across her skin and her chest heaved with desperate attempts to pull in air. It felt like she was trying to breathe through a straw. She curled in on herself, hoping to ease the pressure in her lungs, the pain in her side. Spots dance across her vision, rapidly increasing in size and number.
Elsa clenched her teeth tight, causing fresh pain to shoot through her swollen cheek as she tried to fight back the encroaching darkness. She wanted to see her sister; she had to see Anna and make sure she was okay. She had to make sure that no one hurt her after leaving the tent.
A choked sob cracked unbidden past her abused throat as she realized she wouldn't see Anna again, not without Tyr or Erik allowing it. The pain that settled in her chest was fiercer than any of the physical agonies she was facing, and she was too tired to hold back the silent tears that dripped down her face as an overwhelming sense of hopelessness threatened to drown her.
Anna laid atop the fur-covered pallet, curled into a tight ball and holding her aching arm close to her chest. It had been hours since she moved. She wanted her older sister at her side, stroking her hair and telling her that things were going to be okay. She hadn't wanted to leave Elsa in the command tent; she was terrified what Tyr may do, but Erik had pleaded with her to return to her own tent for the moment, promising she would see Elsa as soon as he could manage it. She would have argued, would have put her foot down and refused to go, but the shock of what had almost happened had her shaken. Erik had passed her off to a guard to be escorted to her tent. Once she was alone inside the and the shock had worn off, she found herself shaking, and unable to stop. She felt sick and lightheaded, and a sharp pain was growing in her wrist, making it painful to move her entire arm.
She had sunk to the cot, laid down on her side, and stayed there for hours. At some point, exhausted, she fell into a restless slumber, startling awake at the slightest sound near her tent. She kept telling herself that she would be strong when she next saw Elsa - if she saw Elsa - but right now, she was feeling scared, and overwhelmed, and anything but strong.
Slowly, the night faded into morning. As the sun rose and cast light on the tent, the inside warmed a fraction. Anna stayed in her bed and waited, knowing that near mid-morning one of the soldiers would come for her, and take her to her sister for their daily five-minute visit.
Except morning passed without anyone coming to fetch her. She considered bothering the guard she knew was outside her tent, desperate to check on her sister. Anna remembered the vivid red marks covering the side of Elsa's face and around her neck, the painful hoarseness in her sister's voice, and each ragged breath that had been disturbingly audible from across the tent. She also remembered the cold calmness in Tyr's voice, the bruising grip around her slowly swelling wrist, and the heart-stopping anticipation of waiting for Tyr's axe fall.
She wanted to see her sister, to have Elsa hold her and tell her everything would be okay, that she would make everything okay, but Anna was scared. It was taking everything she had to not cry right now. With everything Elsa was going through, she knew she couldn't put that on her sister's shoulders too. She had to be strong, for her.
She slept because her body would no longer allow anything else, but her mind refused to allow Elsa any real rest. She dreamed of losing Anna, a hundred different ways. Of her sister falling away from her and being one step too slow to save her. From tumbling over the edge of a cliff, from falling into violent ocean waters, from being frozen to death, again. Each time Elsa startled awake right as Anna was torn away, gasping, her own battered body protesting as she jolted. It went on like that for hours, until her body could take no more and she finally dropped into a deep sleep.
She woke at some point in the early morning. Her throat still felt raw, painful, and tight, but it no longer seemed to be getting any worse. The side of her face ached, and she quickly found moving her jaw was not the greatest idea. Her ribs, at least, seemed to be okay; they were sore and pulled painfully if she tried to take to deep a breath, but were the least of her worries.
Elsa found a bowl of grits on the ground near her feet and regarded the food with mild interest before finally working up the energy to shift the bowl close enough to pick up. The fact that each breath was still grating sharply had her wondering how well even the soft offering was going to go down.
It didn't take long to learn she was right to hesitate; the grits caught in her swollen throat and caused her to choke, sending her into a rough coughing fit that triggered a chain reaction of agony throughout her chest, ribs, and battered cheek. When Elsa finally got the coughing fit under control, she wished desperately for some water, but there was none. She abandoned the food, shoving the bowl away, not prepared to go another round.
She rested her head back against the pole, her body and mind both alight with a cacophony of different feelings, each one fighting for the spotlight. No matter what thought tugged at her mind or sharp bite of pain worked to distract her, Elsa's mind always circled around to the same place, because every path eventually led back to her sister.
She had promised Anna that she wouldn't give up, and she was determined to keep that promise. What Tyr had done to her, and what he almost did to her sister, had shaken her to core. It wasn't that Elsa hadn't suspected the man capable of that level of violence but knowing it and witnessing it were two vastly different things.
She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of breaking her will, of taking her strength. She knew in her heart that as long as she had Anna, those things could never be taken from her. His actions had affected her, but not in the way Tyr had been hoping. They had tempered Elsa like steel, burning away the impurities and leaving behind a hardened core. She wouldn't give up, but she was also not going to make another move that risked putting Anna in that sort of danger. She wouldn't be so reckless again.
As the morning moved toward afternoon, a soldier came to retrieve the bowl, and while he appeared surprised to see it was still full, he disappeared without a word about it. Lunch was brought in sometime later: bread, salted meats, and what looked like some dried fruit. Elsa would have laughed if she didn't know it would cause her such agony. This time she didn't even make an attempt at the food, knowing there was no point. Instead, she closed her eyes and let herself drift off, her mind replaying the happy moments she and Anna had had together.
Some time, though not nearly enough, passed before something woke her up. She blinked, struggling to pull the blurry image in front of her into focus. When her vision cleared enough, she saw it was Erik talking to the guard at the entranceway.
He lifted his gaze and looked her way, startling when he realized she was awake.
Erik watched as Tyr rode out with two soldiers to scout some areas in preparation for the next battle and couldn't say he was disappointed to see his brother go. It was only a scouting party, and the chances of something dangerous happening was minimal, but mostly he was thankful for the chance to think without his brother around. He had mixed feelings about the events that had transpired since they first made their way to Arendelle. They'd had a plan, agreed upon before they left home with a few soldiers. It wasn't until the Erik met with Anna in the inn that he discovered Tyr had gone completely off-script, had made his own plan in the event Erik couldn't convince Arendelle's Queen to help them.
When he thought about how prepared his brother had been, he realized that Tyr had known from the beginning that Queen Elsa wouldn't agree to help them. His brother was still playing his own game, and hiding something from him, Erik knew that much.
He and his brother had always been close, bonded when they were children over the cruel way their father acted toward them. Things had been good, comparatively, when they were younger, and their mother was still alive. Her kind heart and generous spirit had tempered their father's lust for glory, maintaining it at a more manageable level. But when Erik was six and his brother twelve, their mother passed away from a fever, the healers and shaman unable to do anything to save her.
After she was gone, their father changed.
With no one around to keep him in check, he became almost cruel in his desperation to fill some void neither he nor Tyr could ever seem to meet. As he grew into something of a scholar, Father had very little interest in Erik or his interests. He had never been one for the battlefield, and while good at tactics, never cared for war games. Tyr, on the other hand, was an excellent solider and brilliant tactician, and their father fawned over him, but only when Tyr succeeded. His failures were met with disappointment and disdain. Erik had felt sorry for his brother; the indifference he himself received from their father was much more preferable to the conditional attention he offered Tyr. Erik's brother developed a drive to prove himself, every success coming with the caveat that he knew he needed to do even better next time.
Their father had been killed in a Vindarr raid some months prior, suddenly thrusting Tyr into a position of power, the leader of their people. Erik mourned his father but wasn't saddened by the loss. He had hoped that with the man and his overbearing presence gone, the drive that had pushed Tyr most of his life would ease. Instead, the opposite happened, and Tyr become desperate to prove that he was every bit the man his father was, that he was worthy of their father's legacy, and would be a great leader. A better leader. Adding to that inherent drive was a need to exact revenge on the people responsible for their father's death.
For months now, something had felt off. The Sirma and Vindarr had always been rivals, going back to the time of the Vikings, but generally left each other alone. The two tribes were too evenly matched, and all-out war would mean mutually assured destruction. So, the most that happened were minor skirmishes and some land disputes, all of which amounted to little more than posturing and name calling.
What had been a casual rivalry between tribes had quickly soured into all-out war, and the Sirma were rapidly losing ground.
Erik sighed. He loved his brother and would walk through fire for the man, but he hadn't expected Tyr to ask him to stand by while he made an innocent woman walk through the fire instead. He didn't like it, and he wanted to let the Queen and Anna go, to allow them to return home. But now – now they were all in too deep. Releasing them now meant sacrificing the Sirma people. With the help of Queen Elsa's powers – if they were used correctly – this war could be over quickly, and then they could all return home. They just needed a little more time.
Assuming, or course, that Queen Elsa and Tyr didn't kill each other before then. The Queen's threat to his brother echoed loudly in Erik's head. She had been angry and unwilling to forgive Tyr before, and Erik was sure she'd be even less inclined now. He hadn't been able to get a full story from Tyr about what happened on the battlefield, nothing beyond "the witch tried to escape." He hadn't asked what happened afterward; he didn't need to. Tyr's reaction, his fury, was painted across the Queen's face and neck, in vivid purple and blue hues that had quickly formed over the night.
It wasn't the bruises Tyr had caused, however, that made Erik worry there would be no walking away from this. It was what he had almost done to Princess Anna. If Erik had been a fraction slower, the young princess would now be missing a hand, and he was positive there was nothing in the world that would have stopped her older sister from killing Tyr, magic cuffs or no. Tyr had always been aggressive and temperamental, but the action worried Erik. This felt too close to something their father would have done.
He couldn't lose his brother.
Erik dragged a hand down his face as he covered the final steps to the command tent. When he entered, he was concerned to find Queen Elsa hadn't moved from the position she had been in when he went to bed the night before. She listed against the pole, her legs drawn in close, her chin drooping to her chest as she slept. It was now midday, and while it was true that she couldn't move much, chained as she was, it was worrisome that she hadn't moved at all in half a day.
He spoke to the guard, who informed him the Queen hadn't eaten breakfast, or lunch, but she had been awake, at least for a little bit. Erik chewed his lower lip, looking toward Elsa and startling when he saw her blinking tiredly at him. His last conversation with the woman hadn't gone well; she had seemed reluctant to talk, and they were interrupted by his brother before she had a chance to. Erik decided it was worth another shot. At the very least, he had to make sure she was okay. Or, as okay as she could be, all things considered.
She watched with a weary, silent stare as he crossed the tent and knelt in front of her. Up close, the bruising on her cheek looked swollen and painful, a deep purple that stretched from just below her eye to just above her jawline. The marks and swelling around her neck looked even worse, the bruises there engulfing the entire length of her throat and stretching around to the back. Having suffered more than enough severe bruising in his lifetime, he knew she had to be in pain.
"The guard said you didn't eat," he said, hiding a wince. "Is there something wrong with the food?"
Elsa pulled her tented knees closer and regarded him for a moment. She averted her gaze, looking at nothing in particular.
"I know you're pissed. I—I didn't think Tyr would go that far, but you shouldn't have tried to escape." Even as Erik said the words, they felt wrong, and left a foul taste on his tongue.
Elsa turned back, glaring in response.
"You have to eat something," Erik tried again. "If there is something else you'd prefer. . ."
She dropped her gaze again, and he couldn't help but think how tired she looked. She shifted against the pole, a wince crossing her face, and lifted her chained hands. She gestured to her throat and gingerly shook her head.
It took Erik a moment to figure out what she was trying to say, but between the bruising and the faint whistle he could hear with each inhale, he finally got it. Her throat was too damaged to swallow much comfortably, and he was sure her jaw was probably also too sore for chewing. "I'm sorry," he said softly, knowing his apology couldn't possibly mean anything to her. "If we had any ice, I would offer it to you, to help with the swelling."
Else raised her eyebrows as she held out her arms to him, palm up.
Confused, he looked down at her hands. When he saw the locks on the cuffs, he sighed. Of course. She could make her own ice. With full use of her magic, she could probably reduce the swelling to a manageable level, if not do away with it entirely in a short span of time. Erik's stomach twisted guiltily. "I'm sorry. Tyr is the only one with a key." Even if he had the key, he wasn't sure he would unlock a cuff for her and was thankful the decision was out of his hands.
Elsa huffed a breath through her nose and pulled her hands back into her lap, nestled against her stomach and legs. She once more drew her gaze from him. She stared into a middle space, clearly finished with the conversation.
