AN: Sup.
Thanks for the reivews, don't forget to tip your local icy butterfly on the way out.
Elsa's ears perked to the sound of approaching footsteps, and she pushed herself to her feet as quickly and smoothly as she was able. Her limbs still felt muddy, her body stiff and uncooperative, but she was not about to face any of the Vindarr seated on a dirty floor. A bit unsteadily, she rotated herself toward the iron bars and lifted her chin.
The guards said nothing as they approached the cell and unlocked the door. Then stepped aside, giving her a wide berth to exit.
She watched them carefully as she stepped out into the hallway. Once there, she hesitated. It had been full weeks since Elsa had been permitted to move about freely, without being restrained in some way, or forced along. She knew next to nothing about the Vindarr, and did not want to do anything that might provoke them while she was still feeling them out.
To her surprise, neither guard had shackles in hand, or even so much as attempted to touch her. Instead, one stepped forward, while the other simply gestured for Elsa to follow.
She fell in step behind them and the group moved silently through the dim dungeon. Elsa took advantage of her halted, stiff movements, using the extra time to take in as much detail of her surroundings as she could. The same roughhewed stone appeared to make up each cell along the corridor, and mounted torches threw flickering light across the dark stone. She followed the guards up a narrow spiral staircase that opened into a wider hallway, an area lit with sunlight streaming in through several large windows, and more torches placed at regular intervals. As they walked along the winding hallway, Elsa couldn't help but be impressed by the sheer size of the place, and wondered not only about how many people must be living on Hasvik, but how she had never heard of them before. They weren't too far north of her own kingdom's borders.
The guard stopped in front of a door and knocked once before opening it. He immediately stepped to the side and looked at Elsa expectedly.
She took a deep breath, working to calm her frayed nerves and mentally prepare herself for whatever might happen once she stepped over the threshold. When she did, she found herself entering a room that was smaller than the hallway outside would have suggested. To her left was a roaring fire, with a dark wood table placed in front, just large enough to comfortably seat four. The tabletop was covered with plates of food, and Elsa's mouth watered just from the sight. Tall windows took up most of the far wall, and through the glass she could hear the whipping wind, a low, whining tone. A desk made from the same dark wood as the table sat before the windows.
Elsa's attention was drawn to the man standing in front of the desk. There was something about his expression that was disarmingly welcoming, and she realized that she had been expecting to see someone of Tyr's build. Instead, the man before her, while broad-shouldered and holding himself like he had spent his fair share of time in some form of military, had a slender stature, one built for speed over brute strength.
"You must be the Sirma's mage," he said, stepping forward and dipping his chin. "My name is Markkus."
Years of training had Elsa reflexively folding her hands in front of her. "It's nice to meet you," she replied, the response as instinctual as breathing.
"I'm sorry that I was unable to greet you when you first arrived at Hasvik," he told her.
A frown pulled at the corners of her lips. "I don't actually recall arriving here," she said, the words tumbling out of Elsa's mouth before she could stop them. "Though I do vaguely remember being drugged into unconsciousness, so . . ." She bit down on her lip and mentally berated herself. She knew better than to allow her temper to slip, especially when she knew nothing about the man in front of her.
"I apologize for that," Marrkus said, his tone seeming genuine, sincere. "But it was an unfortunate precaution we had to take. I have been told that you are single-handedly responsible for the Sirma's sudden victories." He took a breath, gesturing to the table by the fire. "But that is a conversation for later. I'm sure you're hungry?"
Elsa's gaze moved over the spread, and her stomach rumbled its approval. She hadn't realized before this moment how absolutely famished she was. She was still in a strange place, with the leader of a people who had recently tried very hard to hurt, even kill her, and she fought with herself before stepping toward the table. She kept one eye on the man, and he did the same as they took a seat on either side. Up close, she could fully appreciate the impressive spread of fresh fruits and vegetables, a steaming meat pie, and a variety of baked goods. The same deeply ingrained training that had forced a polite response also stayed her hand, and she waited for the other man to begin serving himself before she let herself tuck in.
She watched Markkus's actions, how he served himself and what food he put on his plate, and took care to mirror him so that she didn't accidentally insult the man. Tyr's warning, coupled with what little she knew about the Vindarr, was warring with the calm, seemingly charming man she was now sharing a meal with.
"I must say," Markkus said conversationally as he scooped up some food onto his fork, "I am surprised to find the Sirma have any mages left, I was under the impression their mages had all lost their magic."
Elsa covered her surprise at his statement by biting into a warm honeyed roll. Several things settled in her mind at the same time. One, that the Sirma had – at least at one point – magic, as well as the Vindarr; a thought she would file away for later exploration. Second, Markkus's tone indicated that he knew she was not from the Sirma tribes. And third, the question itself meant that he didn't know where she was from, or whether there were more like her. He was prodding for information, and something inside her, whether instinct or years of experience negotiating, warned Elsa to be careful with what she gave over. Dangerous didn't always mean violent.
"I'm not from the Sirma tribes," she said simply.
His eyebrows arched. "You're not?"
She dropped her gaze to her plate and took another timid bite of the roll to stall for time, savoring the taste of something that hadn't been salted or dried. Elsa knew she could call him out on the rather innocent lie, or she could play along. There were advantages to both options. She swallowed and took a deep breath, but didn't make any attempt to mask the tremor in her voice as she spoke. "The Sirma took me from my home," she told Markkus. "They threatened me and forced me to fight for them."
He cocked his head. "I'm sorry to hear that." He sounded sincere, like he was truly upset at the lengths the Sirma had gone to, to win this war. Maybe he was. He hadn't actually done anything yet to give Elsa reason to think otherwise. "Where are you from?"
That nagging voice in the back of her mind returned to tell her to not reveal her hand. At least, not yet. Elsa rolled her lips against her teeth. "South of here," she said. "Far south. A small town of little importance on the coast." Nothing she told him was entirely untrue. Compared to the world at large, Arendelle was a small port town of little importance.
They continued to eat in silence. Elsa was happy to have the chance to actually eat, but couldn't help worrying about her sister, what might be happening outside these stone walls. She took some measure of comfort in the fact that Tyr was locked in a cell downstairs, and that Erik wouldn't hurt Anna, especially if he figured out that she and his brother had been captured by the Vindarr. She had no idea how much time had passed since they left camp, but hoped it had been long enough for her army to infiltrate and occupy the Sirma camp. Either way, Anna was safe, and miles away from Tyr.
"I don't believe you have given me you name," Markkus said suddenly, leaning forward over his plate.
"Oh." Elsa hesitated, taking a long drink of water. "My apologies. You can call me . . . Joan."
Markkus nodded. "It's nice to meet you Joan. I am truly sorry that the Sirma have forced you into a war that is not your own."
Elsa's appetite fled as quickly as it had come on, and she shoved food around on her plate without taking a bite. She sighed. "I just want to go home." She felt the prickle of hot tears welling, and tried to tamp down on the overwhelming longing she felt for her sister, her home, and her people.
"An understandable sentiment," Markkus said softly. "But, before we talk about how to get you back to your home, let me ask you this: what do you know about the Sirma and the Vindarr?"
Elsa shook her head. "Nothing, I'm afraid. I had not heard of either of your people until recently." Well, she had known of the Northmen, but that was the extent.
"If you would permit me, I think it's important you understand the war in which you were forced to fight."
She noted his choice of words. Were; past tense. Hope bloomed in her chest and settled like a rock in her stomach. Hope that Markkus wasn't going to ask her – or force her – to fight for his side. Elsa didn't care about their war, but she couldn't deny the curiosity of knowing what she had been forced to fight in, and why. There may be some information she could use to her own advantage. She sat back in her chair, and nodded.
Markkus took a long swig from his cup.
"The Sirma and Vindarr use to be a single tribe," Erik said, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck.
The man looked tired and worn, and a part of Anna felt for him. She knew the stress of a missing sibling. But a larger part, the part that had witnessed everything her sister had been forced to go through the past two weeks, felt vindicated, seeing Erik go through even a fraction of what she had been put through herself. She knew she shouldn't take pleasure or satisfaction in someone else's misery, but she almost had her hand cut off, and watched her sister come back beaten, watched her get dragged into a war.
Anna set her jaw. Let him see how he liked being on this side.
After the discovery of the fight that had taken place atop the gorge, Naismith had the Arendelle soldiers scour the surrounding area for any indication of what direction Elsa and Tyr may have been taken. After hours of searching, they had been left with little hope of catching up to the Vindarr. Who, according to Alarik's morbid observation of the state of the half-frozen bodies, had hours' worth of a head start.
Erik claimed to know where the Vindarr called home, and was not only willing to show them on a map but offered up soldiers to help with any rescue they wanted to mount. It was an offer that Naismith and Alarik were obviously uncomfortable with, but it was also apparently Anna's decision to make. She needed time to think before doing what was not only right, but smart. For now, a message had been sent back to Arendelle for the naval ships to set sail around the coast to the north. It would take them three days, a prospect that made Anna itchy and uncomfortable. She couldn't stand the thought of her sister at the mercy of strangers, possibly enemies, for much longer. But she knew that even if she accepted the help of the Sirma, they didn't have the men or naval ships available to attack an entire settlement or, if Erik was to be believed, an island stronghold.
So, they had gathered in the command tent once more, for Erik to share his information – who exactly the Vindarr were and why they were fighting, and anything else they may need to know – while they waited for the navy to arrive. Waited to be able to rescue Elsa. Waited for this all to finally be over.
"It was centuries ago, but we were a single people once," Erik continued. "No one knows how it happened, but at some point, we made a pact with the Landvættir."
"Nature spirits, right?" Alarik asked.
"Yeah," Erik said, sounding impressed. "That's right."
"What sort of pact are we talking about?" Naismith sat stiffly with his arms folded across his chest. "I assume this is all relevant to the problem at hand."
"It is," Erik assured to Admiral. "As for the pact, it was a simple one. We would protect the Landvættir, and in exchange they would allow some of our people to harness their magic. Nothing showy or grand, and certainly nowhere near the level Queen Elsa is capable of. But enough to make life easier, like lighting fires or creating rain during a long draught. Simple things."
"You said some people," Kristoff said. His shoulder bumped Anna's as he shifted beside her on the bench. "Not everyone was given magic?"
Erik shook his head. "The Landvættir were very selective about who was granted magic. Perspectives went through years of training before preforming a ritual in which they asked for the Landvættir grace. It was then up to the spirits to decide if someone was worthy or not. Only those that the spirits believed had the best interests of both the Sirma and Landvættir would be allowed magic. If they sensed ulterior motives or dishonesty, then the person would not be allowed to become a shaman."
"So, what went wrong?" Anna asked, frowning.
"There was a disagreement among the elders," Erik said.
Markkus paused to take another drink from his mug. "Some saw the potential in the Landvættir power, but others were content living as farmers."
Elsa folded her hands on the tabletop and leaned in. She was much more interested in the story Markkus was telling than she had expected. Parts of it caused her to wonder whether anyone in Arendelle was a descendant of these mages. If she was. If they were in any way related to why she had magic.
"At first, nothing came of the infighting," Markkus continued. "Not much could be done without Landvættir consent. They could take away magic as easily as they gave it."
"Until?"
Markkus smirked and reached into the collar of his shirt, pulling out a crystal than hung from a leather cord. The crystal resembled the ones the Vindarr soldiers in the gorge had been wearing, except this one had a faint purplish glow.
With a start, Elsa realized that the low pitch she'd heard upon entering the room wasn't the wind howling outside the large windows, but was coming from that crystal. She felt the cold seep of ice forming beneath her hands, but didn't stop it as she finally saw these crystals for what they were. "They found a way to trap the spirits," she said breathlessly.
If Markkus noticed the frost creeping across the tabletop, he made no indication as he tucked the crystal back under his shirt. "More or less. They discovered a way to drain the Shaman's magic and trap it within the crystals, which allowed for anyone to use the magic, for the benefit of everyone, rather than limiting magic to a select few judged worthy by outdated rituals."
"But you're hurting them." The words tumbled out before Elsa could think about what she was saying.
"Hurting them?" Markkus narrowed his gaze, tilting his head to the side. "Why do you think that?"
There was a genuine curiosity in his voice that threw Elsa for a loop. He must have known that he was causing the trapped spirits pain; the sound they were making was barely perceptible right now, but when the Vindarr had been fighting using that magic, she had been able to hear it clearly. "You can't hear them?"
Something glimmered in Markkus's expression, so quickly that she could not probably identify the emotion. "Can you?"
Elsa's heart thudded in her chest. She didn't answer, leaning back in her chair and wrapped her arms around her middle, drawing herself in. Could he really not hear that noise? She couldn't imagine any reason for him to lie about it, but if he truly didn't hear anything, why could she?
"Interesting," he said, drawing out the word. His gaze dropped to the melting frost she had left on the table where her hands had just been. "But perhaps a discussion for another time." Markkus took another drink. "In the meantime, the crystal provided a container for the magic, but a different device was needed to draw the magic out."
He offered a pointed look, and Elsa followed his gaze down to the faintly glowing cuffs around her wrists.
"The magic the Landvættir gave was finite." Erik leaned forward, his finger tapping idly against the tabletop. "A body not meant for magic can only channel so much of it. The cuff had a twofold purpose. It stopped the shaman, or mage, as the Vindarr call them, from using magic. Its primary purpose was to drain magic from the wearer into a crystal, so that the magic could be used by anyone." Erik rubbed his forehead.
That caught Anna's attention. Elsa had told her that it felt as though the cuffs were draining her magic, but she, like Elsa, had assumed that was more a by-product of wearing them, rather than a primary. Now she had to wonder just how extensive the exhaustion was that her sister had kept hidden from her.
"So why didn't you – I mean, I'm glad you didn't." Alarik took a breath and glanced upward before adding, "I think. But I have to ask why you didn't use the magic drained from Queen Elsa to power these crystals, in order to have more people fight for you rather than one prisoner who would still be well within her rights to kill you?"
Erik swallowed, looking uncomfortable. "It's . . . complicated."
"Uncomplicate it," Admiral Naismith said.
"Our shaman don't fight," Erik said. "The magic they had was only ever to be used for survival. That was the pact we made with the Landvættir."
"Your people being wiped out doesn't fall into that survival category?" Kristoff asked, eyebrow raised.
Erik shifted uneasily, and all sorts of red flags went up in Anna's mind. She knew there was something he didn't want to say. "Erik," she said sharply, not in the mood to feel sympathy for the enemy. "What aren't you telling us?"
He sighed heavily. "The cuff doesn't work right on Queen Elsa."
"Why do I get the feeling that's not a good thing," Alarik muttered.
"It's a bit hard to explain, and I'm not sure I understand it all myself. Think of the magic like the energy you have to use each day. It's finite, and if you keep going all day with no breaks, you will run out of energy. If you don't rest, you would die from exhaustion." Erik cast a glance around the faces watching him. "The magic we received from the Landvættir was like that. It was limited, meaning that if you used to much, you would run out. Afterwards, if you continued to try to draw power without a chance to recharge, you would likely lose the magic all together. We don't know if the loss was something the Landvættir did on their own, or something else. Other than the ritual, no one has had any interaction with the Landvættir in centuries and a few months ago they disappeared entirely taking their magic with them."
A silence fell over the group as everyone digested what Erik was saying. Finally, Naismith asked, "what does that have to do with the Queen? Or the cuffs?"
Erik sighed again, this time patiently. "Sometimes, it could take a while to drain a person's magic. There was no set amount someone had and, obviously, some were more powerful than others. The cuffs blocked you from using your magic during the process, so that you couldn't stop it, or escape. Once all the magic was drained the stones, they would cease to glow, and the cuffs could be removed. If left on, they would reactivate when the wearer started building up magic once more. The idea was to keep the shaman drained of magic until they could no longer could channel it, or until the cuffs were manually turned off."
"But the stones were always glowing when Elsa was wearing the cuff," Anna said slowly. "Not much, but they never truly shut off. She said it felt like a constant drain." The worry she felt for her sister increased another few notches, as she realized Elsa was in the hands of people who would have no issue draining her magic and using it for their own ends.
"I believe it might have something to do with whatever spirit Queen Elsa got her magic from." Erik said.
Anna frowned at his words; she then shook her head. "Elsa didn't get her magic from spirit; she was born with it."
"That's not possible." Erik looked at her blankly, like he was having issues understanding what it was Anna was saying. "Maybe your parents . . ." he trailed off.
"Made some sort of pact for Elsa's magic?" Anna had to bite back a chuckle at the absurdity of the question, given everything their family went through, everything Elsa went through. "Elsa and our parents spent most of her life trying to conceal and suppress her powers. Elsa may have accepted them now, but that's a long stretch from embracing them. If she or our parents had a choice, I have no doubt they would have chosen for Elsa to have no magic."
Erik sat back in the chair, folding one arm across his chest and resting the fist of his other hand against his chin considering this new set of information. "If the Queen was born with her magic, that would explain a few different things." He said sounding like he was talking more to himself then the people in the room.
"Such as?" Anna prompted, eager to learn as much about her sister's magic as she could, even if it was from an outside source.
"The cuffs are powered by the wearer's own magic, the stronger the magic the stronger the cuffs effects. But the cuffs were made with our magic user's capabilities in mind. With the knowledge that magic is a finite resource. The cuffs will continue to drain magic until there is no more magic to drain, if the Queen's magic is natural to her—"
" –then she won't run out," Anna finished.
Erik nodded. "It would also explain how she managed to crack the stone in one of the cuffs," he added.
Anna recoiled. "Wait, what?"
"The night after that third battle, I noticed a crack deep in the stone," Erik told her. He shifted his gaze, looking at the others in the room. "I don't know when it happened, but her magic seems to be more powerful than the cuffs can handle."
"That's why she was able to use her magic," Anna said slowly. "Not much. It was more . . . leaking out. But if Elsa doesn't know she's close to breaking the cuffs, she's not likely to try, considering the pain it caused every time she tried to use her magic."
"So, how does this help the Queen?" Alarik asked abruptly. "Or help us get her back?"
Elsa looked down at the cuffs around her wrists and tried to wrap her mind around everything Markkus was telling her, about the Vindarr and Sirma, about the magic they had, and about the cuffs. There was no doubt in her mind that if Tyr had the Vindarr's crystals, he wouldn't have hesitated to use her as his own personal magic source, no matter the Sirma's beliefs. Of all the things Markkus had shared with her, there was one thing among them that awoke the drowsy sense of hope within her: the cuffs where made by the Vindarr, by his people.
She hesitantly held onto that sliver of hope as she asked, "can you remove the cuffs?" She held her breath waiting for his answer. Up to this point, Markkus had expressed no desire to keep her captive here, had even eluded to the possibility of her going home, but he wouldn't have brought her here just to turn her loose. Then again, if the Vindarr had their own magic, why would he even need her?
Markkus leaned back in his chair, and the frown forming on his face filled Elsa with dread. "If it were simply up to me, I would remove the cuffs and allow you to return home. I would even provide you with an escort, to ensure you made it back safely."
Elsa's shoulders slumped. Her chest tightened, a stinging pain as the last of her hope shattered. She swallowed thickly against the lump forming in her throat but remained silent, worried she might break down completely if she tried to speak. She was a Queen, even if the man across from her didn't know it, and no matter what these people put her through, she would conduct herself as she had been taught.
"Unfortunately," Markkus continued, "I must answer to a council, and am expected to take their worries and concerns into consideration." He leaned forward, an expression of worry pulling at his features. "We are not going to keep you here, nor are we going to ask you to fight our war for us."
Elsa shook her head. "I don't understand. Then why. . ."
"The council is concerned that if we release you right now, you may return to the Sirma. Or worse, they could capture you, and use you as their weapon once more. We don't want that. Not just for our sake, but yours as well. So, the council feels it would be best if you stayed here, as our guest, just until we take care of the Sirma. With you no longer fighting their war, it shouldn't take more than a few weeks."
Weeks. Elsa pressed a hand to her forehead and took slow breaths. She couldn't stay here for weeks; she had a kingdom to run. She had to make sure Valle had sent food to Arendelle, so her people didn't starve. She wanted to see her sister. She wanted to go home.
"I know it's a lot to ask," Markkus said. "You've been a prisoner for all this time, and it's obvious that they have not been kind to you." He raised a hand, gesturing to the fading bruises on Elsa's face and neck. "I promise you we will not keep you in the dungeon. You will be kept as comfortable as possible, given a real room and anything you might need. You have come this far; I only ask you go a little further. Then I will personally see you back home."
He phrased it like a request, but Elsa understood that she didn't have any choice here. She hadn't had a choice in anything that happened for weeks now, and she felt lost and afloat, like a leaf on the wind. Some logical part of her mind told her that what Markkus was asking wasn't unreasonable; if she were in his shoes, she'd do the same thing. He didn't know that she had an entire army to protect her, to keep the Sirma from taking her or Anna prisoner again. He didn't know a detachment of men was most likely in the Sirma camp now, or at least on their way to it. If she told him, maybe it would be enough to convince him to let her go. But she didn't really know anything about the man sitting across from her, other than, so far, he had seemed genuinely concerned for her well-being, and sympathetic to what she'd been through.
Even so, Elsa held her tongue, listening to the voice inside that warned her to not show her cards. At least, not just yet. "What about the cuffs?" she asked.
"After speaking with you, I don't think you would do us any harm," Markkus said. "But we do believe it would be best to leave the cuffs where they are for now. If you can't use your magic, no one can claim you are a threat, to anyone." He tilted his head. "I would hate for someone to harm you, thinking they were doing right by our people."
Elsa did not try to hide her disappoint. "Am I still a prisoner then?" she asked. "Or am I allowed to move about freely?"
Markkus frowned, looking conflicted once more. "Whether forced or not, your actions have resulted in the death of many Vindarr. Now, very few people know you are here, and I think it would be best if kept that way. If you need anything at all however, anything within my power I will get for you."
Elsa sighed. It wasn't what she wanted to hear, but for now, she would have to make do.
