Elsa was rather annoyed with the measurement of time. All things considered, she had too much of it. Apparently she had five years of it in a blink. Now, time continued to mock her, creeping slowly, marked by the unmoving arc of the sun outside poking through the edges of the door and the small window portal.
She tried to listen to the captain's advice and stick to his quarters for the rest of the trip so as not to disturb the crew anymore than she already had. However, the officer's room was strongly lacking in the way of entertainment. Considering most of his desk and personal items off limits, Elsa tried to study the modern map nearby to note any changes she might have missed. There was a rather bland book about the types of knots one could manage with a bit of rope while out at sea. She even braided her hair the old fashioned way, without magic, slowly twirling the blonde tendrils with her fingers and weaving them together.
The boredom wasn't even the worst part of this particular brand of torture. Being locked alone inside a room brought up some unpleasant childhood memories. She was alone with her anxiety over the one dark thought that kept slithering in her brain: she had abandoned her family and friends when they needed her most. Furthermore, the spirits, her siblings in spellcraft, had vanished. Like the sudden absence of a limb, the loss was obtrusive and painfully constant.
Honeymaren's amber eyes began to haunt her like a ghost, a cursed memory from her past. Was she dead? Did she despise her for disappearing? Had she moved on with her life and forgotten her, a simple acquaintance lost to the passing years? Elsa wasn't sure which was the worst option, but she mentally explored each of them obsessively despite the growing ache in her chest.
By the time she realized she had started pacing the floor, Elsa sighed in frustration. She couldn't stay in this room hiding anymore.
When she opened the door, the warm sunlight on her skin immediately welcomed her, and the stinging frost of worry melted away.
Limitless blue sky and vest ocean beckoned as she stepped across the deck. Wind and wave made delicious music to her ears. While her mind did not recall her supposed hibernation, her body felt keenly aware that she had been still for too long, and her legs yearned to stretch. Her lungs were singing with the fresh, open air, and when she contentedly sighed, frost shimmered in her breath.
Humming drifted from above. Elsa turned to see Johansen at the wheel of his ship, seemingly content with his lot in life. His deep voice produced a rich melody, and this simple tune continued even as he glanced down and nodded in her direction. She smiled and proceeded away towards the bow.
While one might expect sleepiness or grogginess from a long slumber, her senses were surprisingly sharp, and her magic permeated her whole being. Whatever source existed inside her, whatever pool she drew from, it was now even more deep and bountiful than before. Even with each simple step, she was hyper aware of the soft, weathered wood beneath her bare feet, feeling each crack, each chip in the surface with distinct clarity. She felt awake and alive.
It was mildly alarming...but since when had her life been normal? The looks and stares now sent her direction as she was on the open deck were a reminder of that fact. Sailors old and young paused from their chores and activities to glance up at her as she passed by.
Hopefully Johansen would forgive her for the slight disruption.
She finally anchored herself at the front of the bow's center tip. Leaning against the rails, she tried to ignore the hushed whispers she sensed around her and simply admire the grand horizon before her.
"They're in awe of the Blue Dragon. Give them some time."
She looked up to the owner of the kind voice that had suddenly appeared next to her. A tall, lanky young man offered a grin, his face still glowing with the youth of his boyish features.
Elsa returned the smile. "I understand. Though I'm not sure I deserve the fancy nickname."
He leaned in secretively, eyebrows arched high, and asked, "Was it Nokk?"
Her eyes widened in surprise before nodding.
"I knew it!"
"I'm impressed."
"Nah, most of Northuldra guessed that one," he replied with a shrug, his modest words failing to hide his smug smirk.
"You're from the village."
He nodded, dark hair falling across his face. "Arendelle's caught up on a lot of our spirit lore and traditions after everything that happened, but you're definitely the big hero. There's a statue of you in the city square now, I saw it when I joined up."
"That's...mildly embarrassing," Elsa grumbled before questioning, "You didn't want to stay in the forest?"
"I've seen the forest my whole life. I wanted to see more," he replied, looking out over the ocean before them, "Always been good in the water, so the Navy made sense."
"You look a little young," she observed gently.
"The age limit keeps going down. And...I maybe lied," he winked before stating matter of factly, "Shadows don't care how old I am."
Elsa frowned. He couldn't have been older than fifteen. Had her people really been driven to such desperation?
"So five years ago, what were you up to?" she asked, hoping for a lighter conversation topic.
"Fishing. My family ran the boats up the rivers."
Images flashed in her memory of the family weaving fish nets by the nightly fire. To her, it was only weeks ago.
"Marthen?"
"My father. I'm Magnus."
She smiled as she replied, "I think I remember. You were a lot shorter then."
Magnus chuckled, "Things change."
"You're telling me," Elsa sighed, looking down at the spray from the ship cutting through the water. So much had changed without her, and she had no idea how much. Her fingers grasped at the necklace still dangling from her neck. Her thumb brushed over the icy amulet, acorn preserved inside.
"Do you miss them?"
"Yes," she murmured with a sad smile before her head whipped around, "Wait. How did you know it was a gift?"
"I'm Northuldran. I know a løfte when I see one," Magnus playfully scoffed, toothy grin in place.
"Huh?"
He tilted his head to the makeshift necklace in her hand. "A løfte. You said yes."
"Løfte, is that the acorn?"
The question hung in the air, only the gentle sea breeze breaking the silence.
"You don't know?"
She shook her head.
His lips twitched. "You just took it?"
She nodded.
Magnus burst into laughter, hunching over the railing. Elsa stared in helpless confusion at his snickering as he tossed his head back and struggled to control himself.
"I'm sorry," he snorted, whipping tears from his eyes. He took a calming breath before turning to her.
"It means 'promise.' Like an oath," he explained before cupping his hands in excited demonstration, "Someone offers the acorn. Another accepts the acorn. Then they plant it together, giving back to the forest, laying roots. The forest is where they court, make their home, live together, have babies, grow old. They watch their tree grow old with them. Their tree and love are always in the forest, even after they pass."
A single beat of her heart seemed to quake the foundations of her body.
"Love?"
"Yeah, you know. You guys call it the same thing we do in the city. Marriage?"
Elsa blinked.
"It's a proposal!?"
Her horror only grew as Magnus roared with laughter once more.
She had spent almost six months living in the woods amongst the Northuldra. Fall and winter had marked so many firsts for her in her new life, and everyday had been filled with Honeymaren's smile. The herder's patience with Elsa's insecurities had always been a blessing, and she would always calmly explain the mystery of the world to ease her anxieties. No one had ever gotten close to her before, physically or emotionally, from threat of magic or noble propriety. Who could love a witch? A monster? She had never dared ask for more, only dreamed to hope after Anna encouraged her to. She would never risk those deep, golden eyes turning away from her. Love unknown seemed so much safer than love unrequited.
But a proposal? Elsa could feel her cheeks heating. She had been so clueless, dumbly staring at the shepherd when she offered her the acorn before she rode off into battle.
Oh, no. Before she rode off and never returned. For five damn years.
The blonde rubbed her hands over her face and groaned.
She could hear the devious giggles next to her. "Lady Elsa, you can't just go around accepting acorns from people."
With a huff, her hands fell from her face, and she stared hard at the grey tides spread out before them. The salty air brought her back to the little stretch of beach where she had slept. Honeymaren glowing pink under the sunset, setting off the pounding in Elsa's chest. In a world without war, in a different past, perhaps, it would have happened then.
"Can I say something crazy?" she finally asked, breaking the silence and leaning in with a shy smile, "I think I would've accepted it even if I did know what it meant. I would've said yes."
Magnus hummed with a smile, "Ahtohallan knows what she's doing then."
"At least one of us does," she mumbled, looking down again to the necklace, "I just hope she's alright."
"Oh, she's definitely alive."
"How can you be so sure?"
He shrugged before replying, "Anyone with the guts to ask the Blue Dragon to marry them must be pretty tough."
Elsa laughed, succumbing to the boy's optimism and the relaxing breeze.
"Actually, maybe you can tell me. Do you remember the herd-"
"Land!"
"Fort ahead!"
Shouts from across the deck interrupted the woman's question. Bodies seemed to spring up around them trying to get a better look at their destination. Land dotted the horizon, a stone-grey structure atop brown and green cliffs.
She had read much more about Fort Halvor than ever having witnessed it herself. Modest size and unique placement on the ocean served well as a resupply point, and it was reasonably defensible despite its older, smaller construction. While not Arendelle's crown jewel, it was often a strong part of their supply chain for their allies to the east.
The once-queen had longed to see the rolling fields and wild forests that sat on the other side. The neighboring mountain range was supposed to be lovely this time of year. Elsa couldn't help matching the smiles she saw around her of the tired sailors ready to touch land again. This would bring her closer to home.
As they approached more closely, simple towers came into view and the wooden docks stretched out as if beckoning them. She could see the small, insect-like silhouettes of people buzzing about the ramparts and docks. Those around her leaned forward, one hand blocking the sun from their eyes, the other waving wildly above them.
Elsa inspected the small dots moving about the fort more closely, trying to find the responding waves but found none. However, the people on land scurried about with purpose and vigor, seemingly just as excited by their approach. Before she could comment to Magnus, she spotted additional movement in her peripheral.
The cannons were turning towards them.
"Wait! Stop!"
As soon as the warning spilled from her lips to the others onboard, a loud bang cracked through the air. She instinctively held up her hand, and the incoming cannonball instantly exploded in a white burst of ice. Another boom cracked through the air to the left, and her other hand outstretched to meet it. The blur of metal erupted into frozen chunks that poured down over the open water before the ship as the sailors shouted in shock and then realization.
Elsa looked down quizzically at her fingertips. It was so much power for so little effort. Her eyes returned to the fortress, focusing on the people rushing to reload the weapons. Blue uniforms. Southern Isles.
Instinct took over. Her arms swirled in place, two perfect snowballs hovering in the air when she completed the circuit. With a flick of her hands, the pristine, glittering spheres launched forward at breakneck speeds. In a blink, they crashed against the cannons, creating an unnaturally large blast of white powder. Ice now coated the mouths of the artillery, rendering them useless.
Arendelle and Northuldra had been tortured by war for five years without her. That changed today.
Elsa turned behind her towards the helm ignoring the mates still standing wide-eyed and wide-mouthed.
"Captain, I can-"
A swarm of arrows hissed in the air towards them inciting more shouts from the crew and interrupting her. Elsa glanced at the incoming attack, swatting her hand in their general direction as if handling the mild annoyance of a fly. Gusts of blizzard and hail sprang forward to deflect them into the ocean.
She turned back and continued sternly to the man standing at the wheel, "Take us in. I can secure the dock and the fort,"
Even from across the bow, she could see his frown and grizzly eyebrows jutting down. Everyone held their breath.
His eyes finally moved from her to those under his command as he bellowed, "You heard the Dragon, get moving. Battlestations! For Arendelle!"
The collective roar around was deafening.
Johansen continued as he spun hard down the wheel, "For the Queen! For death!"
"For the Queen! For death!" the sailors eagerly chanted back.
Magnus placed his left hand on Elsa's shoulder as everyone began to dash to their posts, a newly brandish sword in his right. "Don't be scared, we always say that."
She calmly turned to the young man beside her, a smile turning upwards upon her face.
"Scared? On the contrary, I'm furious," she replied gently, chin titled regally high, "Stay low until it's safe."
Without waiting for a response, she quickly hopped up to the deck's railing, easily finding a steady perch on the wood, connecting to the swaying ocean waves with reflexes sharpened and ready. Inhaling the briny air, Elsa lowered herself to one knee, still balanced on the beam. Chilly wisps of magic left her mouth as she exhaled, stretching her arms down towards the water. As she fully extended and gracefully lifted her arms in a full rotation, mist rose from the ocean. Her cold energy kissed the sun-warmed surface, and the fog thickened, fully encompassing the ship as she stood up on the railing. The grey cloud would make it impossible for any attackers to aim and hit.
With a satisfied nod, she leapt into the open air above the churning waves and into the shivering embrace of the mist.
Ice pillars rose to meet her, and each step summoned another without thought as she ran towards the fort. For a moment, all was quiet in the impenetrable fog. Her anger seethed, ready and hungry, propelling her forward despite the blinding mist. Magic knew magic, and she could sense the lurking darkness waiting before her.
She would recapture the fort and destroy what had plagued her people for so long.
Soldiers yelled in surprise when she burst through the fog, landing on the long dock protruding into the sea. With a speedy flourish, thick snow shoved an Islander off the ledge and into the water. Swords clanked uselessly against gauntlets of winter crystal Elsa easily summoned to her forearms. Her speed was unmatched as she swept their legs with her own, toppling them to the ground with yelps. The ten or so humans in her way were easily frozen or thwarted. Their crossbows and artillery cracked under the glacial pressure she hauled down upon them. Mere mortals were no match for her now as she knocked them aside.
Suddenly, the air shifted. She felt them before she saw them, like a creeping breath on the back of her neck, hot and humid against her cold skin. When she turned, the murky, hazy figure was standing atop the steps leading away from the dock and into the fort. Elsa felt her rage flare as a Shadow twitched before her. That night on the fjord, she avoided and evaded, playing the defensive. She had disappeared to leave these horrific creatures unchecked.
This time, she surged forth to meet them.
She darted up the stairs with blinding speed, hand drawing back. When a dark limb slashed toward her, she parried with her own icicle-encased arm. Deflecting their blow with ease, her body twisted with the continued momentum, and she immediately countered with a swift kick to the faceless head, blasting a puff of snow.
She charged forward into the threshold of the fort's courtyard, dropping to her knees as black void blurred above her head. Her knuckles instantly frosted over, and her fist cracked against the torso of the Shadow that had critically missed their strike against her.
Hopping back to her feet, she quickly scanned the sizable grounds, a perfect square of grey-stone bricks lined with large, thick walls. A tall drawbridge was closed on one side, and the small stables nearby were empty and horseless. Gateways to the fort proper were wide open, and she felt the darkness sneaking along the corners of the various side entrances and smaller buildings.
A Shadow lunged down from the ramparts, and Elsa raised her sword-like icicle to meet it, piecing it like skewered meat. The creature hardened and froze before cracking and snapping from her thin blade, crashing against the ground. The remaining magic of the expired weapon melted from her hand. As another Shadow bolted towards her across the flagstone, her hands pushed and willed the new ice sculpture forward of the disposed enemy, plowing into the new, oncoming threat. The Shadow went flying back as the block slammed against it.
In whatever game time was playing with her, she found herself the victor. Unsure if the Shadows were slower or if she was faster, these creatures were no longer the despairingly difficult challenge they had been in the fjord years ago. Fragile queen and peaceful spirit had made room for something else, and it thrilled in the fight, excelled at it. The monster that had destroyed the Southern Isles' fleet was well-rested and eager for the revenge she had missed.
Fingers closed tightly into a fist, and an approaching Shadow froze completely like a statue. Dipping into her anger felt good.
A trio bolted towards her from the gap between two buildings, and she started her running charge. One single wave of her arm brought forth a surge of magic, easily blasting away two of the attackers. The frosty spray spread out like a crashing wave from her previous position and across the courtyard, hardening at its tallest apex. She was running parallel to it now, and, as the remaining Shadow barreled forward on a collision path, Elsa leapt from the ground, evading a spiked arm as she continued to run against the icy wall past the creature. She pushed off her new ramp, landing behind the now stumbling Shadow, trying to divert its momentum. With a sharp tilt of her head, the barrier next to them crumbled, crushing the inky figure in glacial chunks before it could even turn to face her.
Her victory was short-lived and others quickly replaced it, seemingly pouring from every crevice of the base. One lurched towards her, and she flung her hand in the empty space before her, sending an icicle shooting forward. It nailed her target, burying into the void, causing the Shadow to wither into snow with a pathetic flop.
She whipped around and punched with the force of her turn, another icy spear hitting the enemy that had crept behind her. Instinct took over as more jumped to her position, hands lashing out like a combat fighter, launching frozen spells as rapidly as the thought could form in her mind. Each Shadow that dared approach her met a sharp, cold end before they could touch her.
Then, they paused their assault. Too still, too stiff. More crept from the corners of the base, the night skies on their skin swirling slowly as they lined the walkways and door frames surrounding the fort's center. There still was no human soldier in sight beyond those now unconscious at the dock.
Elsa blew a hair from her face, surveying the growing mass. They were smart enough to learn, to regroup. She sighed; she had to get creative and keep up.
Pointing her finger, she quickly drew a six-pointed star in the space before her. A crystal snowflake blossomed from thin air, flat and rigid like glass. Snatching the ice between her hands as if in prayer, she exhaled a foggy cloud against her own skin. When her hands separated, a long row of identical snowflakes hovered in midair, fanned out like a deck playing cards.
When the Shadows blurred to rush her, a snap of the wrist sent a snowflake spinning wildly into the fray. As it sliced across the chests of multiple attackers, they burst into white powder. Elsa hurled another and another, the sharp edges of the flakes embedding into her targets or cutting across them in wide arcs. The overall darkness, however, inched closer even as she chipped away at the masses.
Her arms switched from short jabs to a swirling motion above her head, and the remaining snowflakes began to twirl around her in a speedy revolution with swiftly building momentum. They spun and spun, faster and faster, cutting the misshapen arms from the dark spirits, forcing them to shrink with reduced essence and energy before they were completely obliterated by another slash. With a final push and wild snap of her arms, wide and strong, Elsa sent the snowflakes flying into the crowd.
A cloud of white powder surrounded her as the creatures burst into snow under her spells. And yet they still lunged for her, greedy and desperate for destruction.
Elsa inhaled deeply. Power, cold and keen, beckoned within. Even without the other four, her own spirit was seething, ready, so much more capable.
Dive down deep into her sound...
Blue, glimmering light gyrated around her hand as her first plummeted hard into the ground with a fierce punch. Magic glittered and cracked along the stonework floor of the fort's courtyard, the clamorous sound of crunching rock matching a hundred Earth Giants. Ice jettisoned up from the new outlets, spikes impaling the Shadows with a razor's edge. Mist clouds popped up as they crumbled to snowdust around her, some even freezing entirely as the white glaze enveloped them.
Elsa rose from her knee, scanning the buildings and bulwark. Shadows leered down from the upper ramparts or reappeared at the stairways. Watching, waiting...
Suddenly, they all turned in unison, bolting to the front gate. Those already on the bulwark simply jumped down somewhere beyond Elsa's line of sight. Others rapidly leapt to the ramparts, easily clearing the twenty-foot ascent with a mere step against the walls. They all disappeared behind the wall towards the fields that laid in wait.
She walked towards the large gate, the drawbridge closed tight, hand outstretched.
They would not escape to do harm elsewhere. She would end them here and now.
"Everyone is standing by, ready to ride. Scouts are also back. Skeleton crew of twenty, thirty soldiers. Too many Shadows to count. Maybe two hundred. Probably closer to three."
Maren frowned from their hidden position in the tree line as she looked across the vast field to Fort Halvor. Those were tough odds against the hundred soldiers under her command, but not impossible. The rangers had developed a particular skill set in stealth and expertise in dealing with the more arcane variety of their enemies.
A challenge simply made things more interesting. She turned back to her lieutenant, spreading a scroll across a withered stump.
"Here are the blueprints for the fort from the castle. There's a hidden exit we should be able to use if it hasn't been sealed. We'll send two more scouts at nightfall. I want everyone to stay ready to move. As soon as they signal an opening, the main unit will charge as a distraction. Another group will infiltrate the secret passage to attack from within," she explained as her finger moved across the page, "Surprise is what'll give us any advantage."
"Yes ma'am," Alfsen replied with a small, growing smirk, "What signal should I instruct the scouts to use? Or should they be improvising like the episode at Garrison Gertruda?"
Gertruda. Maren's lips twitched trying to hide her smile. That had been a fun adventure between the exploding jelly and chicken feathers.
She nodded to the young man. "Louder the better. Tell them to-"
A distant explosion sounded in the distance. The captain whipped her head back to the fort, squinting against the tree foliage. Another boom echoed across the field, and the smallest traces of smoke floated to the sky.
Someone was attacking from the sea. They couldn't ask for a better distraction than a pincer attack, and she wasn't going to let their Navy counterparts upstage the best of the Army.
Maren eagerly turned to clap Lieutenant Alfsen on the shoulder.
"Change of plans. We ride now. Go!"
Without question, he bolted deeper into the woods to the awaiting squadron, shouting orders that immediately summoned the crackling of leaves and twigs as their whole group began to move and leap onto horseback. Maren swiftly jogged towards her mount, but she didn't have to go far. The reindeer met her halfway; he knew well the cry to battle. Special silver casing on the beast's antlers glinted in the light poking through the branches above. She hopped up easily to the saddle, giving the animal a firm pat on the neck.
She grabbed the reins and turned about to see her team behind her, horses and their riders quickly trotting forward, expertly forming the line she would lead. The hundred that made up the Silver Battalion were clean, efficient, and quick. There was no time for speeches, and Maren never offered them.
Her steed stepped to the tree line, on the edge of the grand, golden field with the fort lying in the distance. Her fist shot into the air.
"Charge!"
Indeed, no speeches. They either lived or died together, and that was that. Riders and beasts all shot into the sunshine and open plain.
Hoofbeats loudly rumbled all around her as the group began to build speed and momentum. Her eyes remained transfixed upon the fort, counting down the seconds, the distance, the odds of their success swaying in the balance. She could smell the grass they kicked up behind them and the salt on the air so close to the sea, but her gaze did not waver from their destination.
They had made it almost a third of the way across before she saw the first tainted smear on the horizon, the swarm of black on the blue sky. The monsters had no need of the drawbridge and simply plummeted from the ramparts to the grass beyond the moat with no hesitation. They fell like black rain and surged towards the moving cavalry with the unmatched reckless abandon of a tidal wave, their numbers at least two hundred strong.
But still Maren and her vanguard continued forward. She had stopped counting the number of Shadows she had destroyed years ago. No human matched their speed, but a Northuldran took to magic like a bloodhound. Shadows were difficult to kill, but there were tricks around that. She did not fear them.
She feared guilt.
She counted the people she had a hand in killing. Fifty-two enemy soldiers. Another twenty-nine for those that had died while under her command. Eighteen of her people reported lost to defending the border last she visited Northuldra.
As a leader and a fighter, she felt the weight of ninety-nine souls on whatever grand scale measured a person's life. She never lost count.
The guilt that plagued her was surpassed only by the brutally basic instinct to stay alive. She needed to stay alive long enough to find what she had lost.
Elsa.
She would not die today simply because she still had work to do.
Reaching for her bow, hands left the reins with complete trust her experienced mount would continue charging towards the enemy in bold determination. Her finger snatched a silver-tipped arrow from the quiver strapped to her thigh and quickly notched it in her weapon as her eyes singled out one of the running monsters. The projectile was released and flung into the crowd, her target dissipating with a poof. Others behind her loosened their own ammo, sending handfuls of Shadows back to the abyss. The impending onslaught grew closer and closer despite their attempts to thin their numbers at range.
Her thighs instinctively tensed as the line of mortal and animal crashed into the mass of dark arcane. The reindeer beneath her lowered his head and plowed through the Shadows with his broad antlers like a battering ram. Silver points seemed to puncture the creatures, and they disappeared into dust at the blow. The two forces began to mix as her soldiers lashed out with swords and arrows into the fray. Shadows jumped into the air towards their farthest ranks. Battle was firmly upon them.
Maren practically poured arrows into the chaos around her. The slightest movement towards her was marked for death. It was the only way a mere human could beat the nimble and impossible speed of the Shadows. Puffs of the stardust followed her as her reindeer continued pushing through groups of their enemies.
A force pounded at her side and her vision suddenly swam as gravity sent her toppling to the ground, the crash sending shooting pain across her left shoulder that took the brunt of the fall. Her body instinctively tried to bounce back up, to keep moving, but the danger was already upon her. A Shadow had knocked her from her saddle and had pinned her down. Its limb swiftly mutated to the shape of an axe.
She barely had time to raise her free arm and block the oncoming attack with her silver bracer. The weight of ten men seemed to press down from the Shadow onto the gauntlet, and her whole arm shook against the strain. Her body wreathed and shook under the pressure, her other hand struggling against to free itself from her own torso and the ground, reaching down her leg.
Adrenaline flashed as fast as her dagger from her boot. The makeshift weapon on the Shadow's arm flared into dark smoke as it emitted a piercing cry. When she swiped again, it flung off of her, and she rapidly scrambled to her feet to draw her longsword.
The obsidian and purple hues bled and swirled as the figure sprouted a new attachment, sharp and pointed. Panting to catch her breath, the Shadow sprang forward before she could even complete her second exhale.
Precious metal of Maren's sword and dagger glittered in the daylight as she parried the repetitive strikes and swipes of the knife-like appendage. Feints and false leads did not sway or deter the monster. It fought with the mad abandon and guttural instinct of a starved animal. When she lunged, it mirrored, but harder and faster, knowing it could beat her. Yes, it moved with desperation, but the cold calculation was sophisticated and masterful as it countered every skill she possessed.
Boots shuffled on the dirt as she dodged, struggling to add distance between them only for it to be taken away. Her mount was somewhere in the fray, and the blurs of forest green uniforms in her peripherals were otherwise engaged with the same problem she was facing. No allies would help her, this was her challenge and hers alone. Her defenses and endurance would eventually fail in a direct contest of strength. In a competition of pure speed, she would lose. Predicting its movements was the only way to survive this. She needed a plan, now.
As it danced around her, Maren knew when she was being cornered, sensing the change in raging blows to probing, testing lashes against her weapons. It was pushing, planning, learning, leading her to a trap. She tapped into what energy remained, and as she guarded against her enemy's quick swipe towards her legs, her sword immediately whipped upwards on the offensive. It was too slow, she knew this, but the Shadow leaped back to avoid the hit, giving her precious distance.
Then, it paused.
Her hair stood on the back of her neck. This was it.
Without hesitation, she whipped around, flinging her dagger in the process. Despite her aim with her non-dominant hand, the new, sneaking Shadow had been close enough to present a large target and perished as the weapon struck its chest. With a blind spin back, Maren dropped to her knee and thrust her sword forward. Her original attacker had taken the bait of seeing her back and blindly charged. It was now skewered across her silver blade before misting away. She had been fast enough, this time.
The captain immediately hopped up to her feet and scanned the field. Many of her forces had been dismounted, horse carcasses laying too still across the field. Shouts and screams filled her ears, arrows flew across her vision, clashing metal rang out. Even at the briefest of glances, she knew there was too much black across the sea of green for the numbers to be in their favor.
They had to retreat. Even if the Shadow forces had split off to handle whatever had attacked from the sea, they were still overrun.
Before Maren's lips could part to issue the command, ripples echoed in the air and the soil beneath her. Loud pounding sounded in the distance towards the fort. They lacked the ferocity of cannonfire but little else could match the force or size needed to create such volume. Maren frowned, turning to the structure.
A rumble solidly shook the ground, and she struggled not to collapse onto the ground. Humans and monsters alike paused at the anomaly, trying to understand why the earth was suddenly loud and moving. White haze bloomed above the small stronghold like steam. Not even the largest cannons or trebuchets made smoke of that color or size.
Maren squinted. Wait, it wasn't smoke. It couldn't be...Snow?
The shaking stopped, and the world went still. Every human seemed to take a collective breath.
Shadows suddenly whipped wildly away and began bolting to the fort, seemingly unconcerned now with the troops. Opportunistic swords swung down at the retreating forms, and Maren marveled at their luck. They finally had them on the run. Thank Ahtohallan for whatever was at the fort.
Raising her longsword high into the air, she called out, "Advance!"
The word echoed as the soldiers parroted her command, ensuring it was heard over the madness and commotion. Maren lifted her hand to her mouth and issued a shrill whistle before she easily sliced her blade through a Shadow trying to flee past her.
Thuds sounded before reindeer, antlers and all, burst through a group of the withdrawing enemies, leaving them like ash in the air. He proudly trotted to the captain, and she expertly perched on one stirrup to quickly swing her other leg over the saddle. The beast shot off like a crossbow bolt for the keep.
Blind to all else except what mysteriously propelled them back to the stone keep, the magical entities offered no resistance as Maren's steed brought her blade to their backs. She easily hacked and swiped at the stragglers, trying to keep the path clear for their own counter march. A handful of horseback riders mimicked her plan yards away, pushing forward, leading groups of soldiers now on foot spread out across the vast plain.
When specks of black night dotted the horizon once more, her heart sank. Had they fallen for a trap? Shadows leaked like an overflowing cup from the top of the fort, throwing themselves over the battlements. For a brief moment, Maren feared the retreating force would turn around with a vengeance, but they continued rushing away to join their new brethren.
Which group was truly fleeing? What was going on inside the keep?
Glowing light suddenly blinked on the wooden barrier. Maren squinted across the field as the luminosity spread like paint moved by an expert hand, symmetrical lines unfolding and carving into the surface. Twisting patterns stretched from the center focal, all shining and sparking in the sun.
It was a snowflake.
An explosion vibrated across the field as the gate imploded in a blur of white. The captain yanked on the reins as bits of ice were flung into the surrounding area at great distance. Swarming Shadows seemed to buzz at the approach of whatever rendered the gate to splinters.
Maren held her breath, vision glued to the newly blasted opening as the snow settled to the ground.
Snow and ice…no, she couldn't dare to hope…
The figure that stepped through the destroyed fragments of the drawbridge was eerily calm despite the sheer force of enemies that now stared her down. Locks of blonde hair that escaped from a long braid blew in the gentle breeze. Her white tunic glimmered in the light as her arms whipped across her body, sending a flurry blasting into the black mass.
Even at this distance, Maren knew it was her. The woman worth years of war and death and searching and dreading and hoping.
Elsa.
She was alive.
"The Blue Dragon!"
"By the Five!"
Remarks of astonishment mixed with the cries of battle around her, the Arendellians still engaging the few enemies separated from their group. The bulk of the sea of Shadows all faced the small castle, their backs turned to Maren's vanguard and the forest, seemingly unconcerned with the mortal soldiers in the wake of the spirit that stood before them.
Elsa confidently stepped forward; the dropping height without the drawbridge did not phase her. The moat was meaningless as ice rose from the waters to meet her steps, and she crossed the distance with ease, the frozen bridge building itself at her will.
She was as perfect and radiant as Maren remembered.
There was one key difference. She was pissed.
Elsa moved like one of them, at speeds almost impossible for a human. Shadows at the front line lurched forward, but she was already upon them, kicking cleanly through their hazy bodies with a point of jagged ice that shot from her heel. Before any could retaliate, frozen hands slapped them aside effortlessly before obliterating them with a blast of magic.
The warriors in green were spread out across the edges of the mob at the rear, clashing against the enemies still so focused on ice spirit. With Elsa's help, they could win this. Maren frantically searched the field for a way to penetrate the mass of enemies and cross the remaining distance to the blonde. Gripping her sword handle tightly in one hand, reins in the other, she prepared to fight her way through.
Then the void started to churn.
To her horror, the Shadows suddenly began to move in a wild, synchronized frenzy. Nightmarish bodies twisted into one another, the sinister darkness blending together and swelling in size. The inky black and eerie purple continued to amass as more Shadows dove into the swirling, growing void and fused together to form a new atrocity no citizen of Arendelle or Northuldra had ever seen. Two ghastly, white eyes emerged from the inky murk.
Like a large ape, thick arms atop wide shoulders swung violently through the air. The beast stood as tall as a proper city house, and the deafening screech that pulsed from the mouthless face staggered the nearby troops. Maren grit her teeth against the sharp pain threatening to split her head, tugging the reins as her mount began to rear back in fear.
Its mighty hand shot up towards the sky above some of the soldiers before plummeting down to the ground. Before their captain could shout a warning, a tall block of ice surged from the ground, smashing against the giant Shadow's limb before it could complete its rapid descent and squash the people below.
Maren glanced at Elsa to see her arms raised above her head, stance firm on the field.
The frustrated, rebuked monster immediately turned to new targets, initiating a whipping, wide arc. A wave of thick snow collided with the soldiers, pushing them out of the direct path. The powder sprayed everywhere as they landed on a fresh snowbank, shaken but unharmed.
Again, the gargantuan Shadow shifted to smash the vulnerable bodies on the ground, defending with their useless swords. Elsa dove in front of them, hands raised, magic surging forward to push against the giant arm, halting the deadly swing. It quivered as it struggled and fought like a swimmer against a strong current. The woman too looked strained, feet digging into the dirt to unleash more energy to deflect the blow.
Maren frowned. Elsa was too worried about protecting the soldiers when she was their only hope offensively. Individuals were too spread out across the plain, too weak. The army force was in the way now.
"Form ranks!" she shouted into the fray, catching the attention of those immediately beside her.
Some of her people repeated the message, trying to rally the others, "To the captain!"
She kicked at her deer's sides, and they sprinted forward, Maren steering them closer to the moat, off to the side. Elsa needed a clear line to the Shadow.
The copper hair of her lieutenant caught her eye, and she turned to shout, "Alfsen, get their asses over here!"
He nodded, yanking the reins and shooting his horse off in the opposite direction. Good man, he would get any stragglers.
Maren glanced back to the center. The Shadow shifted its weight and moved to walk towards the retreating troops, but crystalline magic caught and froze its ankle, sealing it in place. It strained against the ice, and Elsa's outstretched arms seemed to tense in resistance, her fingers clenched tight, trying to hold it back with the invisible strings of her spell.
Those still on horseback helped guide the remaining members of the vanguard to her position, Alfsen bringing up the rear. When they had fully regrouped, Maren slid off the saddle and sheathed her blade.
"Steady," she said firmly as she passed through the small crowd, giving shoulders a quick squeeze. Pushing to the front, her focus was again transfixed on the duel of magic before them.
She had either just protected them or rounded them all up for easy slaughter.
She trusted Elsa.
With a crack, the shackle broke, and the monster stumbled forward, clumsy, heavy steps quaking the ground. Before it could gain any momentum to charge, a snowball plopped against its head. Its form turned to face its attacker, piercing cry slicing through the air.
But the woman's eyes were on the army; she could see Elsa scanning their clumped group. There was no way she recognized Maren in this chaos at that distance, but shoulders seemed to slump in relief that they were now all secure in one place.
A flick of the wrist summoned multiple pillars of ice from the ground directly in front of them, tall and thick enough to counter the large threat now on the other side. Maren immediately pressed her back to the cold surface, poking her around one of the corners to continue assessing their next move. They now had cover and could stop getting in the way. It was time to help from a distance.
Maren instinctively reached down to her quiver to find only the feel of feather from the ammo, the weapon clearly missing. Shit. She had lost her bow when she was toppled off the reindeer.
"Archers!" She called to the group huddled behind the walls with her.
Shaken but brave, they stepped forward and launched silver arrows towards the Shadow, small traces of black essence hissing away at each hit. It gave no notice as it lumbered toward the woman standing alone now in the field.
Glaring at the giant foe, Elsa tucked her elbows tight against her sides, arms curled and tense. Her knee kicked high and stomped hard against the ground, magic immediately swirling up her calf. Its twin mimicked the motion and too had the glacial hue wrap up her leg. Her whole body shot upwards as colossal icicles extended from her legs like massive stilts Maren had once seen clowns use to tower above the crowds at a parade in the city. The shining tendrils of her spellwork continued to climb up her body. Her arms snapped away from her torso, and ice jutted forward, long, sleek, and sharp like stingers. More artwork than warcraft, the magic unraveled and reshaped on her limbs and her body until she was cocooned in the center of a moving crystal sculpture.
The board was set, black and white. It was giant versus giant now.
Thrusting pikes punctured the bulky form of the monster as Elsa jettisoned forward with her impressive reach. The Shadow's thick hands wrapped around the cold appendages, plucking them out like thorns. Maren could see it strain to spin or push the ice titan away in the contested grapple, but Elsa's icicle legs grew into heavy stalagmites to endure the force. She jerked her long arms back, slicing out of the Shadow's grip before launching again.
Despite their massive size, the two still moved at aggressive speeds. The beast seemed to ignore the rapid swipes of ice's razor edge, relying on its fortitude to endure as it barreled forward with a sturdy shoulder or strong fist for brutally blunt damage. With each attack, the Shadow's energy seemed to melt away into snowy mist, its body rushing to refill sections cut away with Elsa's strikes. As time went on, Maren could see it shrinking ever so slightly, and the exchange between them bounced thunderous booms across the field.
But the ice too eroded from blistering blows, cracking away from the force. In a surge of strength, their enemy swatted away Elsa's attempt to stab with her lance-like arm, and headbutted her defenseless core. Ice cracked and shattered from the center coating across her body and across her limbs.
When she tried to block the next jab, the cold magic of her arm deteriorated into white dust. Like a skilled boxer, it rained punches at the new weakness. Jab, cross, jab, hook. Elsa could only keep her remaining arm raised as it chipped away at her ice with wailing blows.
It reared back, both hands raised high. The blonde flipped backwards off her ice blocks, narrowly avoiding the Shadow's fists slamming down upon them. Fragmented chunks flew in every direction as Elsa landed on the ground and dipped to her knee, her suit now completely destroyed.
Maren fought the urge to charge blindly at the beast herself. It was still too big. She had to believe in Elsa.
Dark fingers eagerly moved to grab their opponent. Its target remained rooted and unflinching as she kneeled on the ground; glittering frost suddenly flashed across the grass from her to the demonic figure next to her. Dirt seemed to transform to glass as the surface froze to hard ice. The clumsy giant slipped and scrambled, giving Elsa a brief moment to dodge away.
While greatly reduced in size since its birth, the monster still towered above her like a large animal. When it stepped towards her, she twirled away, flinging stinging pellets of hail. If it tried to swipe, she vaulted the limb, and the dance continued. Elsa was maintaining the distance between them now.
Maren squinted hard to follow her form and gauge her movements, trying to predict and plan a way for them all to survive this. But even she felt helpless and could only watch as the woman of winter battled for their fate, and she appeared to be evading, stalling. The captain strained to read her face, but the once dazzling confidence was now an agitated grimace.
However, Shadows did not deal in stalemates and half-victories. The void across the giant's skin began to spin and bend. One arm shrank, and the energy quickly readjusted as the other arm swelled to considerable size, unnatural and grotesque as it matched the size of its own body. Fist became hammer, designed for a single, deadly purpose.
Then, Elsa smiled. Maren blinked, surely she was mistaken. But there it was. Beautiful. Horrifying. The Shadow began to charge towards her, drawing back the heavy arm.
Smug smirk in place, her hands spun around each other before whipping forward, a beam of white, intense light blasting forth from the space between. The air all around them shivered at the arcane cold that snapped across the plain.
Maren's mouth fell open. The beam missed.
The surge of magic hit the grassy field, off target, not even triggering the Shadow to change course as it merely brushed off the snowy powder that drifted in the air.
"She missed!" cried a voice amongst their group.
Her rangers muttered and stared in disbelief, anxious spectators in a game for their lives. The charging titan continued forward with a flying fist, Elsa narrowly leaping to dodge the attack. Slamming down, the massive hand broke the earth, launching dirt into the air.
But she still smiled.
Suddenly, Maren felt the air shift, like the break in heat before the storm. Magic, but different than the Shadow.
Spirits.
A speck of blue appeared up the cliff side. Nokk's paws thundered on the ground as they crossed the field from the ocean at terrifying speed in the form of a giant, translucent bear. With a fierce snarl, they pounded through Elsa's frozen pool of magic on the ground, and their liquified body hardened and sparkled magnificently. Water to ice, the predator turned hard and deadly.
They leapt with razor claws bared and sharp teeth glinting, tearing through the Shadow's essence with a ravaging bite. The water spirit's glowing eyes shined magnificently in contrast to the midnight form of their prey as they tore and cut. Large hands tried to pry them off, but the fierce bear swiped and slashed them away with ease. They crunched harder with punishing force, clinging as the Shadow wildly tossed about.
With a final screech, the creature of darkness dissolved into black mist, and then, nothing. All fell silent except for the light breeze.
It was over. But the relief that came to the leader of the Silver Battalion was short lived. She still couldn't fully believe her eyes.
Nokk rushed over and nuzzled the crook of Elsa's neck, gentle and sweet in comparison to the brutal savagery they had just displayed. The blonde looked ecstatic, rubbing her cheek against the spirit's head. Maren frowned. Had they been separated all this time as well?
Someone behind her squeaked, "Holy shit."
The captain had half a mind to turn around and reprimand them, but she couldn't tear her sight from the magical duo before them.
She was really back. She had saved them.
With a light pat to Nokk's haunches, Elsa jogged over to the troop still stunned and staring, the other spirit not far behind. Maren forgot to breathe.
As she arrived, Elsa eagerly looked around and questioned, "Is everyone alright? I didn't-"
Their eyes locked, and her speech halted, sapphire eyes clouding in uncertainty. Maren felt the grime and sweat of battle on her brow. How odd she must look to a ghost of the past. Braid gone. Scarred face. But Elsa? She was glowing, just like in Maren's dreams. Elegant and bright as moonlight. She was a dream.
Relief and recognition seemed to blossom across Elsa's face, her lips turning to a wide smile. She really was extraordinarily beautiful.
"Honeymaren!"
Maren floundered. But this wasn't a dream, this was real…and her name was wrong now.
An explanation was caught in her throat. Years of planning what she would say. Finally declaring her love and issuing a proper proposal. She couldn't do it. She was frozen before the mistress of ice.
Steps and murmurs reminded her they were very much not alone. She had a job to do.
"Your Highness."
She turned her eyes to the brown and green beneath them as she bowed. Shuffling of metal and leather indicated every person now mimicked her and bowed to the former ruler, the eldest princess, the most powerful of the spirits.
Maren heard the shy voice mutter, "Everyone, please, that's not necessary."
She followed the hidden instruction and looked back up. The restlessness of her people behind her was unbearable. Questions hung in the air. They pressed against the lips of the squadron, too well trained to let them fly. The same questions pricked at Maren's mind.
How? Why?
Elsa. There was so much to say, and yet she couldn't summon the words. What was wrong with her?
The woman in white looked intently at Maren as she answered the unasked, "I woke up in the middle of the ocean a few days ago. The last thing I remember was that night at the fjord."
Maren's heart pounded in her chest. Impossible.
"From five years ago?" she asked.
"A Navy ship found me floating in ice," Elsa explained with a shy smile, gesturing back to the fort, "They're at the dock."
No. This was wrong. She had considered every possibility. That Elsa had been captured or killed. That she was fighting their enemy far away, in secret. But who could have predicted this?
Elsa had been truly safe, and yet...war had not sullied her. Not like Maren.
She still looked so optimistic, so pure when she stepped closer and lightly called out, "Honeymaren."
The name stung when it sounded so hopeful from Elsa's mouth. It was foreign. Long dead...and best forgotten. Maren had killed the name just like she had killed ninety-nine people. She was a murderer. It was so obvious to her now. The Fifth Spirit was beyond the reach of some grubby mortal, obviously destined for something, or someone, so much more glorious.
Maren kept her breathing as even as possible. Her people needed a leader right now.
Her back straightened as she turned to the vanguard and ordered, "Secure the keep. Tend the wounded."
She needed to stick to business.
As the soldiers had rushed away, Maren questioned, "Are you hurt?"
"No. I'm relieved actually," Elsa replied with a smile, placing her hand on Nokk's head.
"We haven't seen the spirits in a long time," Maren commented, glancing between the two.
So long without magic or love in her homeland or herself...
"When I first woke up, I couldn't feel them. Nokk said they woke up and felt my magic, so they came. They don't remember anything since the fjord either, and I still can't feel the others," Elsa explained with an apologetic tone.
The polar bear moved from her to the Northuldran. Maren, despite her shock, knew not to fear the spirits. She held up her hand, and Nokk easily brushed their snout against her fingers.
Visions of the past began to swirl in her mind. Nokk showed her the flowing rivers in the forest where she dipped her feet after a long day. The fresh rain on the fields as she herded in the reindeer from grazing. The ocean's edge where she wanted to tell Elsa...
Water held sad memories for her now.
"We're far from home," she murmured to the cold head and glowing eyes resting against her palm before she dropped her hand and turned away.
Far, far away from who she once was. Honeymaren could've been a match for Elsa. Captain Maren never could be. There was too much blood on her hands.
Elsa took a step towards her. "Honeymaren, I-"
"Captain. You'll want to see this," Alfsen's voice broke through as he ran up to them, pointing back to the keep.
He was smart; it had to be important. Maren immediately nodded and began to follow him back to the fort. Footsteps followed behind her. Now at the moat, she could see the simple, frozen pathway Elsa had summoned was actually a rather intricate bridge. She tried not to look surprised at the detailing on the rails or the measured, gentle arc over the water below. Even in the heat of battle, Elsa was an architect.
Snow and ice coated the entire courtyard. The troops were scattered about, trying to dig the pathway to the buildings or shuffling towards the dock. Elsa's powers had certainly evolved, or perhaps she was finally releasing what had always been pent up. The giant fissure and crumpled stone spoke to an unknown strength.
The true oddity, however, were the handful of snowmen that littered the area. They weren't exactly snowmen, more of less sculptures or vague outlines of humans frozen in ice.
Elsa spoke up with a frown, "The Shadows…Most of them usually crumble into snow. I must've been distracted earlier. They look like the frozen memories from the Forest and Ahtohallan."
Maren chewed the inside of her mouth. She had seen such memories when Elsa first came to the forest. That the deceased Shadows would reflect the images of people…the implications were horrifying.
This was bad.
Alfsen brought them to one that had been seemingly slammed and plastered against the wall, uniquely preserved in ice compared to some of the others in fragile snow. He somberly nodded towards the figure.
It was clearly a soldier of Arendelle.
Maren leaned forward, inspecting the subtly detailing on the collar pristinely preserved. "It's an older outfit."
"These uniforms were retired almost forty years ago," the former queen surmised, eyes scanning the sculpture, "The flower insignia was removed from the chest and added to the belts and hats."
A silence fell between them. No, this wasn't a dream. It never was. This was a nightmare, growing more terrifying by the minute.
Maren couldn't have her team wondering if their enemy was somehow connected to their own country.
She leaned towards Alfsen and muttered, "Knock them down. Discreetly."
Elsa stammered, "Oh, well, I could just…"
With a grand wave of her hand, nature's clock seemed to speed up as sparkling waves of magic licked the air and ground. White powder quickly melted away. The cracks in the flagstone were filled with a smooth layer of ice. Even the drawbridge was fixed with a sheet of crystal now bearing a beautifully engraved pattern of ivy and leaves.
Everyone paused. Mouths were open and gawking.
Elsa flushed as she mumbled, "Maybe not very discreet. Sorry."
"Quite alright, Your Highness. Distraction is a sound strategy," Alfsen replied chipperly, clearly impressed.
The blonde offered a sheepish smile. "Unfortunately, causing a scene is my default at this point."
Maren simply glowered at her soldiers.
"I'm not in the habit of repeating my orders," she barked, sending the dazed troops into a frenzy, dashing back to their tasks.
The captain then turned to her lieutenant and said, "Escort our guest inside. I'll be there in a moment. There's much to discuss."
With a nod, the redhead politely turned to Elsa, gesturing to the keep, and Maren watched as the duo walked inside the modest castle. Curious, blue eyes looked back at her before disappearing in the threshold.
Five years.
She took a shaky breath.
Ninety-nine lives, probably more after today.
Maren would uphold her oath to the queen and bring Elsa home to where she could be properly loved. Then she could perish in some distant battlefield in this war like the rest of the broken and the damned.
"So then, roughly three years ago, we implemented silver weapons," the young man sitting at a dusty desk rambled on in his explanation.
They had been talking for almost an hour. Lieutenant Alfsen, as he had introduced himself, had been doing his best to recap the past five years as efficiently as possible. Elsa now began to understand why Johansen had truly stuck to the bare bones in his story. The recounting of her own tale had been rather limited in comparison. She attacked the fleet, woke up, and the spirits were gone, with Nokk freshly returned since.
Elsa tried to focus solely on the lieutenant and be respectful of this effort on her behalf, but she found her gaze slipping to Honeymaren, or rather, as Alfsen had introduced her, Captain Maren. The ex-queen did not advise they had previously met nor had the Northuldran. In fact, Maren had said nothing at all since they entered the room.
The captain leaned against the wall in the corner, arms crossed, eyes incredibly focused on the fire they had scraped together in the fireplace. Room and board at the small fort that had exchanged owners in the past few weeks was a little worse wear. She too looked rather worn, even after washing her face and straightening her uniform. Not that Elsa thought it bad, simply different. She was still as alluring as she remembered. The shepherdess had clearly traded the fields of animals for battlefields, but the outdoors still suited her complexion. Arendelle's forest green uniform complemented her chestnut hair, and the shorter haircut in turn accentuated the appeal of her jaw and cheekbones. In fact, Elsa thought the trim cut of the outfit spoke well to the warrior's form. Their country's sigil flower was skillfully carved into the silver bracers on her forearm, and the intricate hilt of the longsword at her hip spoke to a well-decorated, well-respected soldier.
Even with all the changes, it was still Honeymaren. Brave and strong. Still beautiful.
And yet, she looked...heavy. The former royal could guess at the burdens. A leader that carried a moral weight beyond that of a mere herder. A woman whose scars now cut deeper than the one across her once soft cheek and once smiling lips. No, the differences were not bad. But the frown and darkened eyes were what truly worried Elsa.
There was only so much she could guess by looking. She just hoped time had not been too unkind to the one she loved.
Alfsen continued on, "When defeated, they dissolve, almost like a puff of smoke."
Elsa turned her attention back with a nod. "That would explain why you were surprised that those I handled turned to ice or snow."
"It's unique, to say the least, Your Highness," he replied with a small smile.
"Do you know where they come from?"
"Thin air sometimes. But always near the enemy."
Maren cleared her throat; Elsa was embarrassed at how quickly she whipped her head to face her, desperate to hear her say anything at this point.
The brunette's gaze did not move from the fire as she explained in an even tone, "The prevailing theory is that the Islanders can summon them somehow. Though it must take resources of some kind to make more," she tilted her head thoughtfully as she spoke, " Usually, if they have a group already present, while they seem to pop out from every corner, once they're exterminated, there is a large break of time between waves."
Elsa nodded, intrigued more by the theoretical possibilities of the arcane than her love life, for the moment. "Magic of that level would require a substantial amount of energy."
The dark brown eyes finally turned to face her. Maren's expression was still all business, voice scholarly and emotionless.
"Yes. We can safely assume they're magical, but the origin is still unknown. Thankfully, they have never even come close to the capital."
Elsa felt a gentle ripple against her mind. Connected, but not intrusive.
"Nokk has no memory of creatures like this. But the magic does feel familiar. It's not unlike ours," she translated, relieved to be feeling the consciousness of another spirit again.
"You really can talk to them in your head? The other four?" Alfsen almost whispered, eyes wide, a crack in his otherwise proper decorum.
"Well, before the fjord ordeal, yes, I could with all the spirits. Now just Nokk has come back to me."
"You city boys always get spooked so easily," the captain drawled from her corner.
"We can't all come from magic forests with magic spirits hidden in magic fog, ma'am."
Elsa tried to hide a smirk as Maren snorted at her lieutenant and rolled her eyes. Maybe her playful nature wasn't entirely gone behind that scowl.
Having survived any type of retribution, Alfsen looked back to Elsa and explained, "We believe the Shadows somehow speak telepathically. They can coordinate. They're getting their orders from somewhere else."
"Like us," Elsa sighed.
"Like you."
Old soldiers in the snow, the similarities in Shadow and spirit. Their reality wasn't particularly comforting.
Maren turned to the man and instructed, "See if the scouts are back yet. I want the report as soon as possible. The enemy likely knows the only person who can properly counter it is back. Getting her to the capital as quickly and quietly as possible before they can come for her is all that matters now."
Alfsen stood, quickly saluted his superior, and bowed to Elsa as he made his exit.
After an hour of hearing nothing but his voice, his absence suddenly made the room feel empty, as if it was just Elsa and a glaring statue left. Anxiety slithered and swelled in her belly.
Five years of life and war. They weren't strangers, but where did she start?
Maren must have sensed her unease and cleared her throat to break the silence.
"Your Highness-"
"Please don't call me that," Elsa whispered fiercely, cutting her off.
She refused for them to be strangers.
She heard a small sigh as the captain stepped from the wall and sat on the edge of the desk. Maren's chest rose with a deep breath as she took one last inspection of the walls before finally settling directly on the woman in the chair. She was much closer now.
The captain tried again, "I can't imagine how jarring it must be to have awoken to a new world."
"I suspect it's not as bad as having seen it firsthand," she replied gingerly, offering an opening for more.
But Maren merely nodded, still monotone, "The war has changed much."
The awkward quiet returned to the room uncontested. Eyes dropped to the desk.
Elsa huffed in frustration. This was silly. She was being silly. The Honeymaren she remembered always told her to simply ask. She had to stop fearing the answers.
"Won't you tell me what happened?"
"The lieutenant gave a fairly thorough review."
"No, you. How are you? What...happened?"
Maren's frown deepened only slightly, impressive in the face of such a loaded question. She crossed her arms again. Her neck twitched as she swallowed.
"I returned to the forest at first to help with the invaders on that front. They kept coming in waves. It was only a few weeks before I returned to Arendelle and asked the queen to be sworn into the army formally," she paused and looked away to the far wall before continuing, "We decided I could be of more use on the offense. That it might help morale to see Nothuldra's leader marching into battle."
"Leader? Does that mean...Yelana…"
She nodded. "There was a raid early on. Took the enemy three arrows to the chest to bring her down. She refused to die until the whole village made it out safely. Stubborn old woman," she mumbled with a hollow laugh, voice dying in her throat.
Elsa wasn't sure which broke her heart more. Not being there when Northuldra, when Yelana had needed her, or hearing the traces of hurt buried in Maren's dark humor.
"I'm sorry."
Maren shook her head, and the twitching smirk disappeared. She continued matter-of-factly, "The armies from the city helped us rebuild and make the area more defensible. I set up a small council to run things in my stead, and I left to fight."
A pause followed, but Elsa needed to know more.
"Captain is no small feat," she offered optimistically.
"In wartime, it's easy to promote rank. The queen has been good to me," was the response coupled with a shrug. She was inspecting the wall again.
"How is she?" she questioned quickly.
"Alive," Maren quipped, glancing back to the blonde with a raised eyebrow, "I at least promised you that much."
Elsa smiled gently. "I never doubted you."
With a sigh, Maren grunted, "She made it difficult. We've been in a few close calls together. Drives her advisors crazy, always riding into battle, risking her life, without an heir," she rolled her eyes, but she bore a small grin as she grumbled, "But the people love her for it."
"No heir? That's surprising for Anna and Kristoff," the queen's sister chuckled, remembering all the moments she had been a third wheel for the loving couple.
The smile fell. "Her Majesty was pregnant, but…"
Oh, Anna.
Elsa swallowed hard and sat up straighter in her chair. "Thank you. It sounds like you've been a good protector and friend."
"As much as she'll let anyone be. As much as anyone can be close to the queen, I suppose," Maren murmured, small frown in place.
So much pain. And she had left them alone.
"I'm sorry I didn't come back," she whispered, afraid her voice would crack. Tears threatened to fall, and she was doing her best to resist.
Maren actually looked surprised as her eyebrows raised, the first hint of concern to break through the visage of indifference.
"There is nothing to be sorry for. Ahtohallan must have her reasons," she replied calmly. Her voice was almost as soft, almost as honey-sweet as Elsa remembered.
Almost.
Elsa's fingers brushed against her necklace.
"Is there anyone…" she trailed off before shaking her head, "It's silly, I asked you this question already. It feels like just a few weeks ago for me. Is there anyone you're close to?" she finished with a nervous laugh, leaning forward in her chair to look directly at the woman across from her.
But the dark, golden eyes avoided hers. "Your Highness-"
"Honeymaren, please," Elsa sighed, closing her eyes, taking a breath, fighting the prickling sensation to cry at hearing the title. When she opened them again Maren was glaring down at the wooden desk.
The blonde muttered, "It's been five years, I would...I would...have hoped you found some happiness."
And it was true. After all, Elsa had never told her how she felt. She wouldn't have blamed her.
The captain looked up at her, and, if anything could melt a frozen heart, it was the honey in her eyes. Had it been days or years since she last saw them so clearly, looking at her so sweetly? Elsa almost bolted from her chair, wanting to run her fingers through the new, short hair and brush her lips against the new, raised skin that marked her mouth. All to prove it was still the same Honeymaren with her warm, butterscotch eyes that had shown Elsa even a cold monster could learn about a love that felt like fire.
"Ma'am."
Alfsen appeared at the doorway, and the softness in Maren's eyes hardened once more. They looked away. In a blink, time had taken another moment from Elsa.
She couldn't blame the busy lieutenant for interrupting a second time, but as Maren nodded him inside, her heart sank. The avoidance hinted at the answer she sought. Her love had moved on with the rest of the world, and, perhaps, that was that.
There was no warmth left for the queen of ice.
She summoned any royal training left in her bones, sliding the mask in place as best as possible to suffocate any signs of sadness. She bit her tongue with hopes pain would shock and stifle the tears threatening to spill. Knuckles went white as she tightly balled her fists on her lap. She had to focus on their mission, their war, and get back to Anna.
Getting the truth from Honeymaren, Maren, would have to come later.
The young man stepped forward to the desk, unrolling a map onto the surface.
"There's been reports of enemy movement in the forests here and here," he reported, pointing at the scroll, "West might be the safest, back the way we came, wait a few days for the ferry at the entrance of fjord, though it isn't always running on schedule," with a wince, his hand moved to a different section of the parchment, "We could go east, wrap around to the north to avoid the forests and go over the river's end through the mountain pass. That might be two weeks if we're lucky."
Maren hunched over the map, staring hard, "We can't afford to waste that much time. We'll push northwest through the forests to Fort Arne to cross the river at the Bridge of Eagles."
"We have no idea how many Islanders or Shadows could be hiding there. Intel when we were at the capital said whole scouting parties have been lost," the soldier commented, voice level. Assisting, not dissenting.
Maren, however, just shook her head. "It's the fastest way. Like I said, they know she's back. We have to get deep behind our lines where they can't touch her," she explained firmly, glancing to Alfsen, "The fort is massive, never fallen, we'll get the back up we need if we're quick enough. We just have to be careful."
The man nodded. Elsa lifted her chin; they were talking about her like a package that wasn't even there. But she held her tongue…this was to get to Anna. And despite everything, she trusted the woman standing before her.
Maren continued on, steady and pragmatic, "Notify our ten best we leave at dawn. The rest will stay here and help defend what we've reclaimed until reinforcements come in. We travel quick and light," the captain stood tall from where she leaned on the desk and plainly commented, "I have to see to other preparations. Your Highness."
The bow was quick. Maren was the one that had walked away, but Elsa felt thoroughly dismissed.
A/N: So the chapters will be getting longer going forward, like this one, which means it'll take me a bit more time to post them. Good news is the story is almost all planned out. Real life just slows me down writing it lol. I don't think it's any spoilers at this point to finally admit some strong inspiration from Avatar and Fire Emblem: Three Houses. If that sounds like what you're into, then I hope you'll enjoy the story. As always, very thankful for any comments and feedback.