Content warning: mature themes ahead. The story is rated M for a reason, and we're about to dive deep into darker territory. Just a quick reminder: before things get better, first they must get worse. Be advised.
~ooo~
Before the era of men… before the era of steel and stone, two deities roamed the skies. They were twin sisters, stars born at the same time. They watched over the earth for millennia, nurturing its long, ancient movements. One gave life, the other took it. Their eyes shone above the dark heavens, a warm hand that guided the first men through their travels across the sea.
The deities power healed the scars men gave the earth. Their joyous lives strengthened the giver of life; their anger, their hatred, fed the taker of life. In their ancient language, lost in time, they called them Light, and Shadow. As centuries passed, their power grew, until Light could not ignore mankind's sins anymore. They brought death to everything on their path, making her sister stronger. Soon, the twin goddesses were at odds, and their separation cracked the earth itself. A void appeared, one both of them could not stop. It threatened to swallow the whole world they had cared for. Reluctantly, they agreed to a precarious peace.
It was not enough.
If the void was to be stopped, they would've to give their essence to the lands it fractured: their consciousness. They fell from the skies in a storm of thunder and fire, sealing the darkness and losing their self's. Since they became one with the earth, some of their essence sipped through it. Light gave mankind their dreams, and Shadow its nightmares. Their sacrifice gave the land life never before seen, and it gave it corruption and chaos.
Some of mankind's children learnt to wield the powers. Guided by the ancient whispers of the long-gone deities, they waged wars against one another. Every time darkness rose from the depths of the foul, black earth beneath, light rose to oppose it… and every time the light caressed and blessed the earth, the darkness appeared once more to challenge it…
~ooo~
Act Two
Chapter VI
Endurance
She loved Anna. Once, it pained her to admit such a thing. She had seen it, her own heart reflected on Atohallan's ice. How could such thing happen? It was wrong in so many ways she could not count them. In truth, she didn't really care about any of them.
Her sister grew into a beautiful, brave woman. In a way, Anna was everything she wasn't: wild, talkative, and so open of heart. It was a wonder to her, to be so… raw of soul.
It was one of her greatest fears, too: that somehow she would hurt Anna's pure heart.
How could she fight it, however, the fire, born anew each time she saw her? How could she fight the desire to taste her own sister's lips? How could she stop the want to embrace her and never let go?
She had fought it, and failed each time, falling deeper and deeper.
Trapped inside her own mind, her memories were the only thing that kept her sane. She could feel her broken body, but there was a veil of shadows keeping her from the world's lights…
She had to resist. To keep fighting against the all-consuming darkness, even if she had no strength left.
She had to…
-ooo-
-ooo-
-ooo-
His bones hurt. Strong winds came down from the north in endless waves, besieging mercilessly his improvised camp. He had chosen this place because the mountain's eastern side hid it from sight from the roads far below the valley; the downside was, it left them exposed to the whims of the cold, autumn weather. Age had been kind to him: his body remained strong, even if not as in years past.
From his vantage point, he could see the Falax's camp: a lake of red tents, with little trails of smoke rising as the soldiers put out the morning fires. What I wouldn't give for him to be down there, Lord Grenn thought. If the Usurper had, he could've ended this nasty war with a single blow. He wouldn't have survived such a task, but it'd have been worth it. He had already enjoyed a long, fruitful life. For a moment, he pictured his modest home, back in Yrendelle: his late wife's old room, the stable with its smell of leather and straw, and even the little crops that he managed to grow on the summer.
He had to admit a sad fact: he'd never see it again.
This isn't all that bad, though, he decided, calmly looking over the summit.
The mountain's peaks were still grey, but he knew the first snows were only a few weeks away. As the decades passed, he had come to enjoy the somber sights that came with the fall and the winter. Long gone were his own summer days: years spent in court, spent hunting and travelling.
Not anymore, he thought. The world around him had changed much, but some things never changed. The greed, the foolishness, rooted inside some men's hearts. Nonetheless, what did it tell about his own generation, if all they accomplished was to hand over the world's reins to madmen like Falax?
He had hoped to slow the Usurper's armies long enough for winter to arrive, but his foe simply had too many men. They crashed against the fort with ferocity, even despair, uncaring for how many dead men they left behind. Their officers only cared for what little ground they could gain, no matter its cost in blood. By the time the sun had finished rising, they would march against the mountain pass once more. If they managed to hit them in full, the garrison most likely would fall, and because of that, he would strike first.
He walked back to the center of the camp, tightening his cape around his shoulder-plates. When he arrived, his men – now less than a hundred strong – rose from their tiny campfires, filling the cold air with a satisfying racket of steel and boots over gravel. Most were veterans: the best Arendelle's army had to offer. Many had grown on these very mountains: they knew the hard life of ice harvesters or silver miners. It showed on their hard, bearded faces; it showed in their rough, sunburned cheeks.
They had all volunteered to join their kingdom's call. Lord Grenn was proud of what they had become. This conflict had made them brothers, of country and blood.
He and his troop abandoned the mountain's hidden crest, descending towards the mountain's feet were the Faraxians would gather before marching. There was no need for talk: each man knew his task well enough. Cramped against a crevice below the pass' entrance, they waited for the signal. The Governor could not see them, but he could hear them: the Usurper's men beginning the hard march up the narrow path that lead to the fort. He exhaled, gripping tightly the pommel of his long sword. Once, he had found joy in the anticipation before the fight; now, he could only dread it.
Jean, give me courage, he thought.
A long whistle rang. With a furious cry, he and his men left their cover, falling on top of the stunned ranks of the enemy soldiers.
-ooo-
"It is time, your Grace."
The infirmary was dark, but Anna could see the first hints of the morning light through the white curtains. She sighed, looking down to see Elsa's pale face. Sleeping on a chair on the other side of the bed was Rapunzel, snoring lightly. She had come in a rush the day before after Anna had called for her, to no avail. Her cousin's tears did nothing on Elsa's wounds.
Matthias stood still, waiting for her, his right arm wrapped in a cast. In her haste, she had not recognized his injury the night before. She could see only the blackened skin on his fingers, but she knew the burns must have extended all over his arm.
Reluctantly, she let go of Elsa's hand. Her condition had barely changed since yesterday: she lay still, breathing evenly, but otherwise unconscious to the world. The only reaction they had from her came when the nurses had changed the bandages: Elsa's voice rose into a pained moan, falling into silence once again when they finished.
"Rapunzel…" Anna called, nudging her shoulder gently. Her cousin blinked a few times, stifling a yawn. "You can go back now."
The blonde shook her head.
"I'll stay with her. You go." She said, smiling in reassurance.
"Send word with Kai if anything changes." The Queen asked.
"Of course."
With one last, longing glance, she stood up, following Matthias' steps.
She wanted to stay, so badly. After these last, desperate, lonely months spent by herself, the last thing she wanted was to leave her side.
The day before, it nearly broke her. To see her beloved sister in such… condition. It all felt like a cruel test, brought down on them by an uncaring, tasteless god. She recalled her talk with Lady Talya about faith. Was this her punishment from some untold sins? To see everything around her fall and crumble? To have Elsa back, and yet, to have her so far away…
Was this her fate? To stumble from pain to pain endlessly, 'till she cracked and failed?
No. No if she had something to say about it. She would find a way, even if it was the last thing she did.
For the moment, she bore the sorrow on her heart, locking it away. What came next had to be done as soon as possible.
-w-
She had never visited the dungeons of the castle's barracks. After descending through the long, slippery round stairs, they entered an ample, grey room that resembled a cellar. The air felt suffocating, damp and thick thanks to the oil lamps that burned on the walls. Lined on them were several cells with gates of iron. The dungeons were more crowded than usual: inside were many petty thieves, scoundrels who tried to take advantage of the Capital's delicate situation.
She wore a dark cloak, so the prisoners could not recognize her. Once inside the tight corridor, the stench of urine was almost strong enough to overcome the stingy smell of moisture. When she took the crown, she had considered closing down this dreadful place, but her councilors had advised against it. It sickened her, but she had to admit it had been a sound choice.
Sargent Yudris walked in front of her, accompanied by two other royal guards. Trailing behind them was Matthias.
They stopped outside the iron bars. The cell was particularly small, perhaps a dozen feet from one end to the other. Tiny rays of sunlight fell from a tiny sliver opened high on the stone. On one of the corners was a heap of dirty clothing and in its center stood the prisoner, a lean man, perhaps on his mid-thirties, with long, curly hair, wearing only a pair of loose pants. He was prostrated on his knees, his head hanging over his bloodied chest. Around his arms were several, long scars that looked like snakes coiling around his limbs.
"We've shackled him, your Majesty," informed the Sargent in a low voice. "But it's still best if you keep your distance. Let us handle this. We still don't know what he is fully capable of."
"He did that?" Anna asked Matthias, pointing to his injured arm. The General nodded.
"He is a fire mage, your Grace. He took two of my men before we could subdue him."
A fire mage… Anna thought. So the rumors Lady Varin had heard were true: the Usurper had more than one sorcerer to his command. Faraxia was one of the countries who despised magic the strongest: most of the mages born in there were killed as children. It had been one of the many reasons her parents had kept Elsa's powers a secret from the outside world. Nonetheless, Falax had managed to rally the sorcerers around him.
There was so much they didn't know about. What other tricks did he have under his sleeve?
Sargent Yudris opened the gate, stepping into the tiny cell. With a sonorous clap, he slapped the prisoner awake. The man gasped and pulled at his chains, looking up. His dull, green eyes slowly covered the room, finally settling on her. Yudris took a handful of his hair and pulled, making the prisoner groan.
Anna forced her face to remain neutral. A part of her wanted to stop her officer, but she knew better than that. According to Matthias, this man had been her sister's captor. Her enemy.
The Sargent released his grip, making his head swing downwards. The mage looked at her after he recovered, a tight grin pulling at his cheeks.
"I assume…" he began, slurring his words a little because of his thick eastern accent, "you must be Queen Anna. I recognized your flag on that blasted ship."
The Queen narrowed her eyes, glaring at him.
"Oh. Where are my manners?" He said with a hint of contempt. He dipped his head, and his grin grew before he disrespectfully spat at her feet. Before she could stop him, Yudris' arm shot forward, connecting with his exposed belly. Sparks flew out of the man's chained hands, a long moan leaving his lungs.
"That's enough." Anna ordered. The Sargent backed off a little, cracking his knuckles. She could sense Matthias disapproving glare.
"I must say… you're more charming that I thought." The man said with difficulty, his eyes shining with mischief.
Anna's scowl deepened. Matthias stepped closer to the prisoner.
"Answer our questions, and we'll give you another cell. Some food. Otherwise…" he declared, letting the threat hang. Anna looked intently, measuring the man's reaction.
The prisoner rolled his eyes. "You may want to bribe me with something more valuable. But it's not like you can offer me much. I'm a dead man."
"Why?" Matthias asked.
The prisoner snorted. "Because you took me prisoner. To him I'm as good as dead."
"Him? You mean the Usurper?"
The man nodded. "I'm thirsty," he declared, wetting his lips with his tongue. "Perhaps some water may loosen my tongue…?"
Sargent Yudris looked to Matthias, who shook his head.
"First you will answer our questions." The General stated.
"I see… And what makes you think I'll talk now? You weren't very convincing on our way here, I'm afraid." The prisoner joked, pulling at his chains as he leaned forward.
"Give him the water," Anna ordered, her arms crossed over her chest. Sargent Yudris left the room, coming back with a skin. He poured a little into the man's mouth, who swallowed eagerly a couple of gulps before Yudris pulled back.
"You have my thanks," the mage said.
"What's your name?" Anna asked, testing him.
The man narrowed his eyes. "It's that what you want to know?" he countered. The redhead remained silent.
I must not show my hand too soon, Anna thought. They needed what he knew. About Falax. About what had happened to Elsa.
"If you must know… My father named me Idris." he answered casually.
Anna's eyebrow twitched. The man seemed far too comfortable with the situation. She knew Matthias disliked it, but she couldn't help but wonder if Yudris' approach was correct. Could she really afford to show mercy, when Elsa's life hung in the balance?
She had to try, at least.
"Tell us about Falax. What does he want? How many mages has he?" Matthias inquired.
Idris smirked, amused. "What is there to tell? Does he need a reason to do as he does?" Replied the man, lifting a single eyebrow like he didn't fully understand the question. He cleared his throat before continuing.
"He has conquered the eastern kingdoms, unified them after centuries of petty squabbles between petty kings and warlords. For him, yours is just another crown on the map to add to his collection." He declared, his words clearly meant for the Queen.
"You admire him." Anna sentenced.
To her surprise, the man's expression darkened; it was the first real emotion she saw on him.
"No, Queen Anna. I do not admire him. To say I despise him is not quite enough. But… I'm loyal to my country. Same as your men." He glanced over Yudris and Matthias.
"As for my brethren…" he continued, "we're just a few. Enough to enact his plans."
Something's wrong, Anna realized. It was too easy. He answered their questions, but there was little value on his words. She needed answers: Elsa's life may depend on it.
Anna's patience faltered after a while.
"What happened to Elsa?" She asked, going straight to the only question that mattered.
Her prisoner looked up to meet her glare, slightly tilting his head. "It's that the bitch's name?" He said mockingly, awkwardly shrugging his shoulders, rattling his chains as he did.
Anna stepped forward, her fists clenched so tight she could feel her nails beginning to draw blood. Sargent Yudris swung once more, dealing a heavy blow against the man's ribs. Anna raised a numb palm, cold anger slowly building up inside.
"Were you who did it to her?" She hissed, kneeling in front of the prisoner. "How can we cure it?"
The man spat to the floor once again, locking glares with the Queen. "No," he answered, pained. "That was Onix's doing. My job was to keep her alive, and keep her inside the mountain."
"Onix?" She inquired.
"You must know her. The attack on Corona…" He coughed a little, grimacing in pain.
The Black Sorceress, Anna thought. That young girl…
"Who is she? What does she want?" She pushed.
Idris laughed dryly. "Same as your sister, I see. So clueless. No wonder she fell so easily into Onix's trap. How she screamed…"
Anna saw red. Her fist lunged forward, hitting the man's jaw. A little startled, she heard a sickeningly satisfying crack. She retracted her fist, ready to strike again, but Matthias was faster, grabbing her gently with his good arm, shaking his head. The Queen stepped back, shaken.
"You're lost." The mage growled, looking back at her with eyes void of emotion. "Grasping at nothing…"
He chuckled, moving his mouth as if testing the damage her punch had done. "I shall not speak further. I just have one favor to ask. Execute me before he takes this city. I'd rather die by your hands than his."
Her lips twisted in disgust, anger still boiling inside.
"Sargent," she called. "Tighten the chains. Do not let him sleep. Give him some bread so he doesn't starve, but nothing more. And make him talk…" She paused a little. She truly didn't want to give such an order… but she couldn't get out of her head the image of Elsa's sick body.
She hardened her heart, shutting down any other concern.
"Do whatever it takes."
"Your Majesty…" muttered Matthias. She confronted him with a hard glare until he bowed his head. She nodded to the Sargent, leaving the room. Behind her, the mage's grunts and gasps renewed with intensity.
She kept a straight face, but the man's voice followed her long after she left the dungeons.
-ooo-
Elsa dreamed for the first time in a very long time. The oppressive heat that clouded her mind was still there, but it felt more distant, weaker.
She heard Anna's lively laugh. She was back at the castle. The halls were filled only with a white, thick mist, and the sounds of her sister's laughter reverberated on the empty, lonely walls. There were no portraits or tapestry on them, just the nude grey walls.
She walked towards Anna's voice, but each step was hard to take. She felt blind, locked away from her senses.
Eventually, she arrived at the gardens. The plants had all withered under the snow that seeped from the broken ceiling. She navigated through the gallery, following her sister's voice. Every door she passed was shut, every window closed behind heavy curtains. She wanted to scream, to beckon Anna to come to her, but she had no voice.
The hallways, monotonous and sullen, extended unnaturally as she passed through them. Anna's voice was closer, yet impossibly far. After a dazing number of turns that led to equally maddening corridors, she finally arrived to a couple of tall doors. The mist was thicker and darker, rising well above her knees now. Hesitant, she pushed against the heavy wooden portal.
The gate opened without resistance. She was in the throne room. Or at least, something that used to be it. Rubble and armored bodies littered the ground. The most unsettling thing was the corpses' faces: they had none.
Fear rose in her throat as she walked toward the high seat. She heard her sister's voice again: only this time, her laughter sounded off.
Anna stood, defiant and proud, in front of the stone throne, her back turned towards Elsa. A long, wine-colored cape hung over her suit of armor.
"Anna?" Elsa called timidly. The mists, now almost completely black, danced around both of them. She wasn't sure if she heard her, until she turned, facing her.
Elsa gasped.
She must have gone mad. This woman could not be her sweet, cheerful sister.
Anna's eyes were clouded. Her hair had paled, fading into a soft greyish red, muted and dull. Her skin remained youthful, but her lips were ghostly, almost completely drained of color. From the neck downward, she could see a web of long standing scars.
Her sister's features pulled into an unnatural grin.
"You are here," she declared. Her voice had a chill-inducing edge. "You're here…" She repeated.
"Finally…"
Anna raised her hands, as if mockingly offering her a hug. The mist, now full black, swirled around her sister's limbs.
Elsa shook her head, startled. As she stepped back, another voice rose, yelling in a foreign language. She knew that voice, ragged and full of hatred. Onix's voice. Instinctively she looked around, but she could not see past the dancing darkness.
Her sister's features changed, oozing disappointment and sadness.
The dark haze began to pull her back, its tendrils coiling around her body. Elsa yelled, pulled desperately, trying to reach her sister. The sickness took her once more: it dragged her down into an unfathomable abyss.
Elsa's vision kept haunting her, voices and cries melting in a torrent of broken, feverish thoughts.
-ooo-
By her orders, by the end of the day the nurses had moved Elsa to her room. Anna sat by her side, wetting her sister's lips with a damp cloth.
Slowly, she moved her sister's body upwards, careful not to touch the black, consumed flesh of her arm. Once Elsa was sitting against a pile of pillows, she took little spoons of mushed fruits mixed with water into her mouth. Elsa's body reacted on its own, barely swallowing down the food, something Anna took as a good sign. Her eyes, however, remained closed, her breath muted and unchanging. The royal physician had told her there was nothing he could do: the injuries were of a magical nature, something far from his skills.
Each time she saw the full extent of her sister's wounds, her chest tightened painfully. Her feet's soles were cracked and blistered. Her legs and arms were unnaturally thin, same as her neck and cheeks.
If Matthias had failed to find her… she shuddered. Elsa would've remained trapped in that damned mountain, barely alive, surrounded by enemies…
She leaned, touching Elsa's forehead with her own.
"Elsa…" she whispered, a hard lump knotting on her throat. "I don't know if you can hear me…"
Her voice failed. She sighed, caressing Elsa's hollow cheek. She was relieved, to have her once more. That was, perhaps, the worst of it.
She lay her back down, deliberately avoiding the black wounds, covering her bandaged chest with a light blanket. Elsa moaned breathily, falling silent after Anna settled her.
As she sat there, looking at her sister's pale features, part of her mind kept nagging her.
The preparations for the upcoming battle were well underway: in a couple of days all would be ready, and she would have to leave. Each time she thought about it, a foreign, burning need to break stuff threatened to drown her. Never had she felt so tired, so done. The world kept spinning in a frenzy of death, forcing her hand time and time again, uncaring for her sorrow. Whether she wanted or not, her duties would soon demand another sacrifice.
She thought of her kingdom, and of her councilors and soldiers, fighting her enemies on all fronts.
So much bloodshed. How long 'till she had to join their ranks again?
Not long, she thought grimly.
For the time being, she would not leave Elsa's side unless it was an absolute necessity. With heavy eyelids, she sat on one side of the bed as the evening light turned from a warm orange to a deep blue. It felt like a lifetime ago, the times she spent fooling around with her, the bright days they had shared, filled with so much kindness…
Before the bells struck past nine, one of the guards outside announced her cousin's presence. Rapunzel's head poked from behind the door, her usual smile gone.
"Can I come in?" she asked politely.
Anna nodded, not bothering to get up.
"How're you holding up?" Her cousin asked, crossing the room to sit in front of Anna.
"Fine," she lied. Her cousin cocked an eyebrow, her green eyes boring into her. "Alright. Not fine fine, but I'm doing okay… ish." She looked over Elsa's serene, blank expression.
"I'm sorry." Rapunzel said sadly. "I couldn't help her."
Anna shook her head. "It's not your fault… you tried." Her voice felt dry. She played with the hem of her dress, twisting the fabric.
"The mage Matthias brought… he didn't tell us anything of value." The Queen lamented. She cast her glance down, looking at the floor.
"At least…" she continued, the lump on her throat making it a little harder to speak, "at least she is back… right?"
"Oh, Anna…" Her cousin said, delicately hugging around her stiff shoulders. The redhead's whole body tensed up. She didn't want this. She couldn't afford to break down.
The blonde pulled back a little to look the Queen in the eye.
"Anna," Rapunzel said firmly, her eyes full of worry and sympathy. "Let it out. It will make you sick, to keep everything bottled up." She took the redhead's hand, waiting.
Anna tried to contain the rising tides, but she didn't have the strength anymore. It was too much. Suddenly, the full weight of the last months fell hard on top of her muddled mind. She thought of Elsa's ravaged, unconscious body. She thought of hellish wolves, of panicked horses and blank stares.
The redhead sniffled loudly. In an instant, the dam broke. Like a raging river, Anna felt her tears fall, unrestrained. They fell, and fell.
"It's all so… unfair," she said, hiccupping a little. "I just… I-I don't know anymore… I hate to see her like this… everything's that's happened…"
She grabbed to her cousin desperately.
"I-if only I had stopped her…" She sobbed, her voice muffled against her cousin's dress. "If I had stopped her…"
Rapunzel held her in a tight hug as Anna cried herself to exhaustion.
-ooo-
-ooo-
-ooo-
He stumbled into his tent, helped by two of his soldiers. Outside, he could hear the cries of some of the injured
"We must take it out now, sire, before it's too late." One of his helpers said, a young recruit with just a little stubble in place of a beard. They both sat him on the floor, kneeling on both his sides.
The Governor gritted his teeth, giving the go ahead with a shaking nod. One pressed his hands hard against his back and chest as the other grabbed the arrow's shaft. The older man closed his eyes. With a loud crunch, the man pulled.
Lord Grenn screamed, despite his best intentions. A hard, numbing wave of pain shot through his whole body, leaving him breathless; the corners of his vision even watered a little as additional waves racked his neck and arm. The young soldier pressed a rag against the open wound, struggling to stop the bleeding.
Still a little dazed, he managed to pull off his own belt, handing it to the man so he could use it to stabilize the improvised bandage.
"Go now," he ordered after finishing, his voice still a little too shaken for his taste. Both soldiers exchanged glances, hesitant.
"Go. Help the others. I'll be fine." He said, more firmly this time. Mere seconds after they left, he collapsed against the tent's pole.
He lay in there with his eyes closed, breathing rapidly. He had been careless.
The ambush had gone well, at first. While in the middle of it, he had failed to realize their reinforcements had arrived. Without shields, the attack soon broke against the enemy archers. In a way, he had been lucky: a couple inches to the left, and the arrow would've struck his heart, killing him instantly. It was one of the realities of war, one he had learned after many years of service: a man's fate could be decided by a mere struck of luck.
To all effects, the attack had been a success: the enemy's line broke, their soldiers fleeing as they fell on their flanks. Nevertheless, his efforts were little more than a drop in the ocean. Tomorrow at first light, the Faraxians would gather once more.
This was it. His last card played.
For a moment, anger burst through him. How many men had given their lives to defend this dry, grey patch of mountain? If Falax's legions took the pass, it wouldn't be long before the Capital itself would be threatened.
Then, what? What could the kingdom do, besides kneel before their foe?
This shouldn't have happened. Agnarr, he lamented, why did you have to leave us? This crisis, he should've weathered. Not his daughter. Not young Anna.
He shook his head. Nothing would come from thoughts like those. Life was harsh like that, he had learned: things were as they were, and no amount of wishful thinking could change that.
Groaning, he pulled himself up, abandoning his tent for good.
-w-
The climb back to the fort had been a miserable, painful experience. They finally arrived, a sad column of beaten soldiers limping their way up the pass a couple of hours before dusk. The look-outs on top of the battlements yelled as they saw them. Groaning, the battered gates opened slowly. The signs of last week's skirmishes were everywhere: arrow shafts sticking out of the wooden windows, lost weapons and armor lying beside the unburied, decaying corpses of dozens of Faraxians.
Once inside, he looked over the yard. Lined on one side were many of his own fallen, their bodies covered with thin blankets or the occasional cape: those were the most recent, the ones they had been too busy to bury properly.
Lieutenant Varrik, his second in command, met him with a salute. The man's blonde hair had grown long after months defending the mountains. Unconsciously, he rubbed his own overgrown beard.
"Is everyone ready?" Lord Green asked.
"Yes sire. Do you want me to gather them?"
He shook his head. "Let them rest a little. I will as well, if you don't mind." He pointed to his shoulder.
"Of course, sire." The officer answered, a phantom smirk pulling at his lips.
He dragged himself to his office, cursing after every one of the steps she had to climb. For a couple hours, all he did was lay flat on the hard mattress, listening to the capricious sway of the wind. All too soon, the door to his chambers opened shyly. His page stuck out his head.
"Sire?" He asked. "I thought you may enjoy a little wine." The child said, holding up a wineskin.
Lord Grenn nodded, sitting up on the bed's edge. He took a sip, grateful of the way the drink seemed to warm the blood on his old, aching limbs.
"Get me the master engineer." He ordered. The young fella nodded fiercely, running out into the cold.
The child reminded him a little of the Queen, at the time she had been just the Princess Heir: a wild little thing, running amok along the castle's grounds. In a strange way, Queen Anna had been the closest he had had of a daughter of his own. As the blissful years of his marriage had become decades, it became clear: Jean – his gentle, ever-loving wife – could not bear child. An ugly spot that tarnished an otherwise perfect life.
How he missed her. How he missed his friend, the King, too.
I am sorry, Agnarr, he thought. I have failed your children. He only wished he could have done more to help her, to help both of his friend's daughters. Now, all he could do was to gain them some time.
While he waited, he took another long gulp from his wineskin, doing circular motions with his left arm to keep the blood flowing. It hurt like hell, but it was better than losing the feeling on his whole arm.
A tall, bulky man entered his sparse office.
"It's everything ready?" The Governor asked.
"Yes, sire. We finished a couple of hours ago. A-are you sure about this?" The builder wiggled his hands nervously against one another.
Lord Grenn nodded firmly. "Of course. Begin at once. You must all leave as soon as possible, so you can get a head start."
"Will do, sire." The man scurried away.
-w-
As the sun began to wane from his heavenly arc, the preparations were finally finished.
His page ran franticly around the gathered men with a little bag on his hands. The soldiers, the ones he had chosen to stay, put into it something they wanted their families to get: most gave letters, while others put some kind of trinkets too. They were fortunate, in a dark sort of way: most of their fallen comrades didn't get to say goodbye. The rest of the garrison, all the non-combatants mixed in, had gathered their belongings. Some of the men began to give their friends brief hugs while others shook their hands. They all knew what would happen to those who stayed.
Lord Grenn put a hand over his Lieutenant's shoulder. With a martial shout, the officer ordered the men to advance.
They marched towards the end of the fortifications, till they reached its ancient stone bridge. The structure stood over a great chasm, a wound on the mountain's belly, hundreds of feet deep. On the other side was the master engineer, with his workers. At their feet, each had a heavy-looking mace.
This was the only bridge that crossed the canyon in miles; it led to the most direct path to the central valley, and therefore, to the Capital. During the last week, the few masons of the garrison had worked day and night to slowly weaken the sturdy structure: now all that was left was to bring it down.
When the garrison finished crossing the bridge, Lieutenant Varrik raised his hand. The masons lifted their maces. When the officer's hand went down, so did their tools. The iron heads stroke loudly against the stone, time and time again. It reminded him a little of the rhythmic sounds of the drums of war.
The bridge cracked and grumbled for a while, and after a minute or two, Lord Grenn began to fear it would not fall. Fortunately, the stones soon began to fall into the abyss by chunks, each a bit bigger than the last. The whole structure trembled until the far most edge collapsed, taking down the rest with it. Across the mountain, the roar of the rubble reverberated as it cascaded violently into the ravine.
From the other side, the men raised their weapons as a last, forlorn salute; his little company hailed them back. The troop turned back and walked, disappearing behind the mountain's slope. If they were lucky, they could reach the entrance to the central valley before their rations ran out. Their struggles, however, would be far from over. The fight would go on, and the kingdom would need them.
"You should have gone with them," Lord Grenn said over the gentle whistling of the winds. The blonde man looked at him with a sullen smirk.
"Never, old man. We all have our duty." He glanced to the pass. "Ain't that right?"
The Governor nodded.
"What about your son? Your little daughter?" He asked.
Varrik's full smile surprised him a little.
"They will be fine. They'll know, too, their father died giving them a chance." He patted his friend's shoulder, walking back to the fort. A couple other dozen men had stayed, the bare minimum required to hold their enemies for a few hours.
It's all up to you now, Lord Grenn thought, the last echoes of the falling rocks fading into the calm evening. May your father's spirit grant you strength, Anna.
He looked down at his wine skin. Shrugging – albeit with a pained grimace –, he took one long gulp. If he was to die tomorrow, he would spent his last night with a warm belly.
-ooo-
Her room was eerily silent: the only sound she could hear came from the soft rattling of her windows. She had fallen asleep, curled up against Elsa's body. She couldn't remember when Rapunzel had left, nor how long had passed since then.
To her left, her sister's face was serene and immobile, her marble-like skin giving her the look of an old, beautiful statue.
Anna looked blankly to the white ceiling, her eyes slowly adapting to the night's darkness. The drapes were drawn and the fire on the hearthstone had faded, so the only specks of light came from the edge of the windows, a tiny glow of faint moonlight. After a few minutes, the rattling on her windows grew harder; so much in fact, it began to scare her a little.
Don't be absurd, Anna scolded herself. It's just the wind.
The wind…
She sat upright. Mindful not to disturb her sister, she slowly left the bed, shivering a little thanks to the cold. The noise was loud, insistent. For a moment, she feared the glass would burst open.
Hastily, she opened the windows, and immediately a strong current pushed its way into the room, swirling around her before rushing towards Elsa, shushing wildly as it circled around the bed's posts.
"Gale!" Anna called, earning a worried whistle from the spirit.
He must have sensed Elsa, somehow, she thought, amazed. Wait…
It quickly dawned on her. If Gale was here, perhaps she could finally reach the Enchanted Forest.
"Gale. Can you get Yelana a message?"
The spirit whistled enthusiastically.
"Yes! Alright. Tell her to come, as fast as she can. I will write her a note, so she knows what's happened."
If there was someone who could help Elsa, it would be the Northuldran. No one, aside from her sister, had such an affinity with magic.
The wind spirit fluttered around her approvingly. She ran to her vanity desk, quickly lighting a candle. She wrote in a rush, only stopping to make sure her hasty writing was indeed legible.
"Hurry," she asked. The spirit took the letter from her hand, swirling around Elsa's head once more before leaving into the cold night. After he left, Anna closed the windows and went back to bed, curling again on her sister's side, careful not to touch her wounded body.
As the long night went on, she hoped Elsa could hear her softly sang lullaby.
-ooo-
A.N.: I'm not entirely satisfied with this chapter, so feedback'd be most welcome.
I'm still debating whether the story overall is worth three or five acts, so if anyone can do beta reading and is available to discuss the ideas I have for this (and doesn't mind being spoiled parts of it), send me a PM.
Until next time, cheers!