AN: Shorter than normal chapter but seemed like a good scene to end it on. Well, good for me. Really I'm just here to torture everyone else. Is it working?

Thank you as always for the lovely reviews and encouraging words. I hope everyone enjoys the latest chapter.


Elsa set her jaw and extended her hands in front of her, preparing to send an artic blast down into the gorge.

Earlier in the day, she had overheard a discussion about pushing to end this war in a few strategic strikes, starting with cutting off the Vinadrr's supply line. So, she hadn't been surprised when Tyr's soldiers retrieved her from the command tent only a few hours later, and they headed out once more. This time, however, it wouldn't be into battle, but Elsa was even more uncomfortable with what Tyr was asking her to do. To bury these unsuspecting men in an avalanche of snow, to kill an entire company traveling through a gorge, with no chance to escape or defend themselves.

She had spent the half-day's ride trying to come up with a better strategy, some way to cut the supply line without having to kill these soldiers. She didn't want their blood on her hands, but couldn't deny that, at this point, her hands were already soaked in their blood, even indirectly. The thought didn't make Elsa any more comfortable, but these men were going to die no matter what she did now. Whether by her own hand, the creeping cold, or the Sirma standing behind her.

She reminded herself that Arendelle's Army was coming, that they were so close to the end.

Elsa took a deep breath, allowing ice to collect at her outstretched fingertips. An odd, earthly rumble behind her broke her concertation, and she turned just in time to throw up a wall of ice and block the first grape shot hurting toward her and the four Sirma soldiers. She shifted the ice to block the majority of the small projectiles coming their way, but more than one made it through. A shot clipped the top of the wall before striking one of the soldiers. He grunted in pain and stumbled back, clutching his shoulder. The ball hadn't hit him hard enough to cause permanent damage, but Elsa was sure it would leave a heck of a bruise.

When the shot had stopped, she let the wall drop. A short distance away stood multiple Vindarr soldiers. Her roving gaze jumped from face to face, and she counted at least ten. She adjusted her stance and threw a burst of icy wind to push them back and slow them down. Just before the blast hit them, the ground in front of the Vindarr exploded upward, forming a wall of stone. The icy gust slammed into the rock and dissipated harmlessly. Elsa watched, shocked. It took far longer than it should for her brain to catch up with what had just happened. When it did, her stomach plummeted to the ground.

The Vindarr had magic.

She had no time to further explore the thought. The stone wall crumbled, and a rushing wave of water barreled toward them. Elsa reacted quickly, throwing her hands toward the wave. The water froze as it swelled over them and then shattered. With a twist of her wrists, she sent the splinters of ice back toward the Vindarr.

All but two of the Vindarr soldiers rushed forward, only to be met by Tyr and his own men. The sides clashed together in a cacophony of clangs and shouts, but Elsa's attention was directed at the two Vindarr who hadn't joined the fray. The two who were wielding magic. They appeared unarmed, but even from this distance she could see that they both wore brightly glowing crystals on cords around their necks. One pendant glowed yellow, the other blue. There was a low, piercing sound that picked up, almost like a faint scream of pain. The sound grated her ears, made her grit her teeth, but she couldn't tell where it was coming from.

Elsa shook her head and squared her shoulders. She was not going to wait for them to make the next move. She sent a cascade of ice across the ground toward the Vindarr casters, and they jumped to the side to evade the attack. She was ready for it, and the ground around them exploded in icy spikes as she raised her hand. The caster wearing the yellow crystal managed to narrowly avoid being skewered, but the one of the spikes cut through the meat of the blue caster's calf.

Elsa could hear Tyr and the other soldiers moving behind her, the clash of swords echoing painfully close to where she stood, but she knew he wouldn't dare come close enough to enter her line of fire, worried that she'd use it as an excuse to 'accidently' kill or wound him. She couldn't say his instincts were wrong.

Face twisted in pain, the blue caster wrapped his hand around the glowing crystal hanging from his neck, and the low scream increased in volume, until Elsa winced. The ground beneath her feet grew muddy and slippery, and her balance was taken as her feet sank into the mud. She scrambled to block a rush of water heading toward her, forming a V-shaped wall to channel the wave around her.

Elsa pushed her hands forward, and the wall blasted outward, a barrage of ice sent toward the water caster, the source of that persistent, grating sound. The ice impacted the center of his chest and exploded. The man released strangled yell of pain as he fell backwards. When he struck the ground, he didn't make a move to get back up. The noise that was putting her on edge lessened, but didn't disappear entirely.

She heard the twang of a crossbow releasing, and something coming at her out of the corner of her eye. She twisted, creating a protective wall of ice around her, it was thinner than she had wanted. Still, it stopped the arrow. Before she could make another move, something shattered through the wall and slammed into her stomach with the force of a small boulder.

Air left Elsa's lungs in a rush as she fell backward, impacting the snow-covered dirt and sliding. She pressed her arms around her stomach, struggling to draw a breath. The ground shifted beneath her, rock formations appearing on either side. They shot upward, rising and curving above her to meet in the middle. Her heart stopped in her chest as blinding darkness surrounded her.

She felt out the immediate area, her fingertips scraping against rough rock. She could feel the sheet of frost beginning to stretch and cover the rock around her as her magic reacted to her rising panic. Every breath was a struggle as Elsa fought to pull in air around the pain in her stomach. The inability to see, to breathe, the realization she was surrounded by solid rock, it all increased the anxiety inside until it threatened to push her over the edge. She laid both hands flat against the rock and channeled her ice to freeze the barrier enough to crack it. She didn't even know if it was possible, if she could drop the rock to a temperature low enough to shatter.

When the temperature of the rock dropped to below freezing but remained whole, Elsa switched up her strategy, tried instead to flood ice into the tiny pores in the stone surface. She closed her eyes, feeling the ice seep through the smallest fissures in the rock, and pressed against it slowly, making them bigger as she attempted to shatter the rock.

It was taking too long; Elsa was having a hard time reining in the panic caused by the suffocating darkness and the enclosed space. She forced air in and out through her nose, attempting to control her breathing. Suddenly, the tiny space exploded in blinding light and a familiar, terrifying pain shot through her arms as her magic stopped flowing.

"No, no, no, no, no." Every muscle constricted in panic and Elsa's throat closed, choking off her air. She pressed her hands harder against the rough stone, trying to force her magic past the wall blocking her. She clenched her jaw tightly, her breath coming in quick, barely controlled gasps as pain increased in her arms. She used the panic and terror of the claustrophobic space to fuel her magic and slammed it roughly against the wall, beating against it like a violent ocean swell. The pain rocketing through her arms increased to a mind-numbing level right before she heard a splinter, felt an accompanying fiery burst of agony ignite within her right arm. Her chest lit with fire, and every nerve in her body seared with pain.

She bit through her lip, coppery blood flooding her mouth, as she fought desperately to maintain a hold on her magic and press harder against the wall. Every muscle in her body spasmed from the force of the pressure being put on it. She felt it as the wall gave just slightly, a soft crack echoing throughout the tiny space as an answering pain shot through her left arm. The lance of pain raced into her chest, and her control shattered against the wave, and Elsa lost her tenuous grip on her magic. Her head slammed against the rock under her as her back arched, and she felt something inside her snap.

Elsa screamed.

The agony was so pure and complete that it quickly became more than she could bear. Even though she had lost the hold on her magic the cuffs remained lit, their power eagerly devouring whatever magic she had built up against the wall. She lost all concept of time, couldn't tell if it had been minutes, hours, or seconds. Just when she feared she would go mad from the pain, it began to subside. The cuffs slowly dimmed, leaving her once more in complete darkness.

Aftershocks tore through her spent body, muscles spasming, but the lingering pain was negligible compared to the agony she had just endured. Elsa struggled to draw any air into her protesting lungs, and her fingers continued to clumsily scrape against the rock as she searched for a way out. Her strength was quickly failing, exhaustion and lack of oxygen threatening to drown her entirely. A whimper escaped her numb, bloody lips as she too easily lost the struggle and sank into the waiting abyss.


She returned to consciousness in stages.

The first time, she had a foggy sense of being lifted, carried. There were voices – talking, arguing, and loudly – but she couldn't concentrate enough to understand what was being said, and she slipped backward into the inky blackness.

The next time she woke, Elsa could tell that she was laying on something flat, hard. She had a vague sense of rocking side to side, like she was on a boat. She tried to open her eyes, but they were gummy and stuck together, and when she attempted to raise her hands to rub at them, they stopped short, unable to lift more than an inch or so. The harsh, familiar clang of metal against metal grated against her ears. Chains.

Footsteps echoed hollowly off to one side, moving toward her. Fingers gripped her jaw, digging in painfully and forcing her mouth open. Something was shoved between her teeth and Elsa found herself choking as a sickeningly sweet liquid poured down her throat. She writhed and bucked against the hands holding her, but her slow, sluggish body was no match for the iron-tight grip.

When she had choked down at least half of whatever she was being force-fed, the bruising grip let up. Elsa tried to roll to her side as she coughed and gagged, but couldn't move. Her mind grew foggy, slow. She couldn't concentrate, couldn't think, and felt herself surrendering once more to the darkness.

The third time she woke up, it was with slightly clearer head. Elsa quickly took stock; her cheek was resting against a hard, cool surface which she eventually identified as a stone floor. She dragged a hand up, her knuckles scraping against the stone, and pressed her fingers against her eyes. She rubbed away the gunk of sleep that was gluing her eyelids shut, and blinked a few times until her vision cleared. She pushed herself up onto her knees, slowly, and cast a gaze around the room. The room was small, with a roughhewed stone floor and walls that framed three sides. The fourth consisted of iron bars that ran from floor to ceiling.

A dungeon cell, Elsa realized heavily. She dropped her chin to her chest, her hands cradling her aching head. The military was coming. Alarik had been there, bringing a rescue. She had been so close. Right there on the precipice of the end.

So close.

She wrapped her arms around her stomach, disappointed to see the cuffs still wrapped around each wrist, giving off the soft glow that meant they were still working as designed. Elsa couldn't decide whether she wanted to cry or scream, despair and rage fighting for control. She held on to the rage. It was a safer emotion, one she could use, could mold into a weapon.

"Finally awake."

A hoarse, nearby voice drew her attention.

"Took ya long enough."

Elsa squinted at the dim area on the other side of the bars, where a figure sat slouched against the wall in the cell across from her. It took a moment to realize the figure was Tyr, though the man looked worse for wear. As her eyes adjusted to the sparse lighting, she could see he was favoring his side, that bruises covered more than half his face. Good, she thought. See how he likes being on the receiving end.

She recoiled from the viciousness of her own thoughts, knowing she shouldn't take pleasure, or even satisfaction, in someone else's pain. Even if that man was her enemy. But Elsa was tired; she had been drugged, abused, and forced to fight in a war that had nothing to do with her. All because of Tyr.

"Where are we?" she asked him, turning away from the dark thoughts. The hoarseness of her own voice took her by surprise.

Tyr snorted. "Welcome to Hasvik," he said, spreading his arms wide.

"Should I know what that is?"

Tyr dropped his arms, wrapping one around his waist. He winced as he adjusted his position against the wall. "Hasvik is the frozen, gods forsaken island the Vindarr call home."

Of course. The Vindarr had attacked them at the gorge, had trapped her inside a rock tomb with magic she hadn't been prepared for. Elsa shuddered at the memory, her breath hitching as she was momentarily transported back to that enclosed space.

She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the memory. "What are they going to do with us?"

Tyr tilted his head. "Most likely kill me, once they've had their fill of torture and beatings. You, on the other hand." He looked at her thoughtfully, in a way that made Elsa feel distinctly uncomfortable. Like she was nothing more than an object. "Markkus will most certainly be interested in your magic."

"Markkus?"

"The leader of the Vindarr tribe."

The Vindarr were the enemy of the Sirma, and Elsa didn't care one iota about their war. She was no threat to them, as long as they let her go. She knew nothing about them, but it was worth a shot to try to appeal to their leader, this Markkus.

"If you are hoping to ally with the Vindarr," Tyr said, interrupted her thoughts like he could read her mind, "I doubt they're gonna offer you a deal you'll like."

Elsa frowned. "Why are you telling me this? Since taking me prisoner, you've barely said anything to me that wasn't an order."

Tyr shrugged, then winced, adjusting the arm around his middle. "Because, what I did to you? To your sister? It's nothing compared to what Markkus is gonna do."