It was too quiet; she decided that was the worst part. The loneliness was as familiar to her as an old friend, and even the sense of captivity was not so bad once she accepted it. But the skull-penetrating silence was the only thing that threatened to break her.
She climbed the steps of stone once more and stared up into the black abyss. Her wrinkled, dark brown cloak swirled at her feet as she walked, its hood concealing her forgotten face, a face she hardly remembered. When she reached the floating island of rock at the top, she sighed. The same. It was always the same. But if I stop looking, I may never know anything different.
Her island was made of a sleek gray stone, embedded with silvery-white gems that sparkled, even when there was no light to reflect. She had never seen its like on Earth, coarse and hard and strangely beautiful, but the island was a prison nonetheless. The platform hovered with nothing above and nothing below to support it, only darkness that stretched into infinity. Sometimes it seemed to move, but she could never be sure if that was only her imagination, or some trick, or simply her mind beginning to fail her.
This was her home, a lonely, tiny little world in a sea of black and gray - and it was also her Hell.
The island was connected to another by a long, floating staircase of the same stone, winding up and up, twisting and turning in dimensions that seemed impossible. When she first looked up, she could barely make out what lay at the top. Whatever it was always looked so much further away than it really was, a tiny speck in the distance.
Once she began the climb, the time passed in the blink of an eye, if time existed in this place at all, and she found herself there again, back where she started, and she wondered if she had ever even moved at all. The island at the top of the stairs was always identical down to the last forsaken stone. On the other side was just another staircase, and in the middle the same fountain of light streamed up from the stony ground, shimmering with an evil beauty.
She had looked into that light many times and seen many things, good and bad, but for now she was too exhausted to bother herself with the plights of men. Instead, she sat on the edge of her island and meditated as she turned her back on the light and faced endless darkness.
A sudden feeling of dread overcame her as she sensed a presence and she squeezed her eyes shut in anticipation. A glowing white tiger with shimmering green eyes appeared from the light behind her and creeped in her direction. Wistfully, she lowered her head and let a golden curl fall in front of her face.
"Don't be so dramatic, Agatha Paddick," the tiger said as it stalked over to her, its ethereal eyes boring into her skull and making her hear its thoughts in a high shrill voice. "Here I was thinking you were coming to enjoy your new home."
Agatha scoffed at that notion, but she knew better than to respond. Speaking to Veles was like speaking to Borus about a war story. It would circle round and round and no real answers were ever spoken, only the same stubborn half-answers. "This realm suits you, Agatha Paddick," it said as it sat beside her and licked its paw. "It is as brooding and dull as you have become."
"Realm?" Agatha scoffed. "Aye, that's a nice name fer it, Veles. I call it a shithole."
Veles made a sound like a deranged purring. "This is a realm of magic, Agatha Paddick. It has always -"
"Spare me, please," Agatha interrupted, not bothering to mask the impatience in her voice. "No matter how many times ya explain it to me, I understand it less than the time before. And I don't care. I know enough. I know I can't leave. That's all that matters to me."
Veles just hummed and turned away, and Agatha bristled.
Agatha Paddick remembered how angry she had been when she first awoke in this place with Veles' eyes hovering over her in an amorphous puff of white smoke, the relief of death sinking away into oblivion. "Why have you brought me here!? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?" she had screamed in a blind rage before sinking to her knees in hopeless sobs. "I should be with my parents... I should be with Borus..."
But Veles had merely laughed that shrill, mocking laugh, and told her there were things she still needed to witness. "There is nothing beyond this, Agatha Paddick. Had I not brought you here, you would be gone forever," he had said. "Is that not what all humans fear? Disappearing forever? You should be happy Agatha Paddick. It will be so fascinating here. Wait and see."
Then he had walked into the light and disappeared, leaving her there with nothing but questions in this dark, lonely place.
The first thing she noticed was her body. She was no longer the old woman she'd been in death. This was the body she had when she had set off adventuring all those decades ago, lean and tough and tall, with a face that was plain, but strong, and a cascade of golden hair. The shock of being able to walk without a stunted gait was pleasant at first, for all the good it did her. She wandered aimlessly, only to soon discover there was nowhere to go, but at least she did so without a constant limp.
Other islands began to appear shortly after her arival, winking into existence off in the distance. Some were closer than others, all made of the same gray stone as her own. Their formations varied from pebbles to humongous land masses, but all were too far away for her to reach, and they all seemed to shift and rearrange themselves when Agatha was not looking. She never quite knew if she was looking at the same one she was before and it seemed even blinking caused her surroundings to change. Eventually she gave up and accepted that it wasn't worth trying to find her bearings in this hopeless void.
Agatha Paddick had walked for a long time at first. She climbed the infinite stairs and tried not to succumb to madness. She no longer felt hunger, and she missed the taste of food; She no longer slept, but she missed her dreams; She no longer felt cold, but she would instinctively pull her cloak tighter from time to time, if only to remember. She was no longer human if truth be told, and when that realization sunk in, she could hardly bear it.
Once, while overtaken by deep dread, she stood on the edge of her island with her back to the darkness and closed her eyes. With one final breath, she leaned back to embrace the abyss, ready to end it all. The island floated up and away from her and she fell into infinite. For a long while she felt nothing as the blackness engulfed her like a warm blanket.
But she did not die. The deeper she sunk, the more it felt like she was floating, and eventually she opened her eyes to find herself laying face-up on the island once again next to the fountain of light. She could have sworn she heard a faint voice giggling somewhere in her head. She knew then that she was truly trapped.
Sometimes Agatha would see black creatures lurking on the other islands, dark shadowy beings with no faces. They would always skitter away when she looked too closely, but she always knew they were there. The only time she had seen one stick around long enough to get a good glimpse of, it had slowly morphed into an image of herself. She had raised an arm and called to it, and the thing had mirrored her perfectly. It copied her every motion as if to mock her for a while until eventually it dissolved into the stone beneath it, gurgling freakishly in a way that made Agatha shudder.
Agatha had not known what Veles had wanted her to witness when he brought her here. However, she began to have ideas the first time she looked into the light and had a vision of a birth - little Elsa of Arendelle, a princess with platinum white hair, born during the day of the biggest snowstorm the North had seen in more than a century. It became a thing of legend to all of the Northern domain.
The entire Northern fjord had been buried in an unusual snow for weeks. The snow was said to have been so cold and heavy it could not be melted or moved and its intensity put the whole kingdom in a state of emergency.
Amidst the ensuing chaos a baby was born in the highest tower of the castle of Arendelle, said to be brought into the world clutching a snowflake, with skin cold as ice even though she was perfectly healthy.
Ever since, the king and queen had kept that baby sheltered and secret, bringing curiously little attention to the birth of their heir, and even less as she grew older. Many people had their theories, but Agatha would have known the truth. Now, gazing into the light, she witnessed it first-hand. Elsa was one of the most powerful Highborn she had known in all of her research. Her power was enough to change the world.
Elsa's birth was the third Highborn brought to Earth less than two decades apart from one another. Agatha's thoughts had immediately gone to the second - her Queen and close friend, Alma Sinclair, who she had served until what was supposed to be her death. I left her, right when she needed me the most, she thought.
Her concern turned out to be warranted. When she witnessed Alma's death, Agatha had wept bitter tears, just like those she had wept when Borus was murdered. She could not fathom the thought that Alma's downfall would be her brother-in-law, that timid man whom Agatha considered harmless and even boring, Highborn though he was.
Agatha always suspected that two Highborn in the same castle was going to set the stage for whatever Veles was planning, but as it turned out the arrangement had no complications for all the years Agatha lived there. In the end, the magic in Alexander had been a seed placed there by Veles, and the plant it grew into was something hideous.
As she sat in deep meditation, memories of Agatha's friendship to Queen Alma were all that occupied her mind. She had come to Astor already an old woman and well after Alma had married into the Sinclair family line. The Queen had taken to her and she immediately felt like the childhood friend Agatha never had. Unlike with other kings and queens Agatha had served, her loyalty was no act with the Sinclair family.
Miracles were never all that special to Agatha - she had seen her fair share in her travels. But Alma's power was something else entirely. Agatha had seen her revive entire fields of crop with a touch, cause the most brown and brittle trees to bloom green again, and even bring a human life back from the brink of death. It was truly a special gift, and a shame she kept it so secret, only sharing it with Agatha, her husband, and her children.
Alma's untimely demise had left the world a bleaker place. Agatha knew that Alexander was going to be the Black King that Veles planted for his sick game of chess against himself, a game that used human lives as the pieces. The only question was who would be opposing him.
Agatha had looked to Alma's children then, little Aaron and Sophie. She always knew the twins would be important in the conflict to come. Their strength was striking from a young age, both in the physical and mental sense. Though she never realized just how big a part they would play. Agatha often still wondered which side that part would ultimately be for.
Now, as the pieces were finally set and the war was nearly here, Agatha only wished she could lend Elsa and Aaron the wisdom she had been giving Highborn her whole life. It is a sick joke that the ones who needed me the most was born right as my life was fading away...
But Elsa was strong, that much was plain. Agatha watched her whenever she could stomach to look down at Earth, and the Snow Queen never ceased to amaze her. She fought with a passion that reminded her of a certain other princess she once knew, even holding her own against Aaron Sinclair, and she ruled Arendelle with a sense of duty and honor that was rare in the dark times that had been cast upon the world.
Agatha could not have been more glad when the girl had first cracked open A History of Royal Magic and read her life's work. Never again would it be more prudent than in the hands of this White Queen.
Though Elsa was far from perfect. That sister of hers will be the unsung hero of the ages once all is told, I think. Anna truly reminded Agatha of herself in her youth, although not quite so hardened. Agatha had watched in disbelief during the Great Freeze and had nearly given up on Elsa when she sheltered herself at the North Mountain.
But Anna spared them from that fate and in doing so, may have saved more than just Arendelle from destruction. Only together will they be strong enough for this, that is certain.
And then there was Sophie. Sweet, fierce Sophie. Agatha was never quite sure what to make of the girl, even when she was a child playing knights with her brother, swinging a stick twice the size of her body. In a way, she considered her to be a bigger threat than Alexander himself.
While he was no idiot, Alexander would always rely on brute force to get what he wanted. The man had hardly been challenged since his ascent to power, but Sophie was different. She was cunning, careful, and loyal to her people. Worst of all, she was decent and convinced she was doing the right thing.
The worst kind of enemy is one who does not want to fight. Agatha only wished she could read the girl's mind. Veles' light allowed her to see anywhere on Earth and even granted her some flexibility in time, but it did not make Agatha omnipotent. Sophie was still an enigma even to her.
The choices the princess was faced with were not easy. How does one choose between her twin and her kingdom? Her father or her morals? Was serving a man like Alexander worth protecting her people? These were questions Agatha could not begin to answer, much less at the age of twenty-three. If only she could speak to her, or Aaron, or anybody.
But she could not. She could do nothing but observe, helpless and anxious. A time may come where that is not the case, or else Veles would not bother with me. I have to keep watching and waiting. I have to.
With that thought, Agatha's eyes bolted open. She stood and began walking towards the fountain of light at the center of her island, following the beam that shot up over the stones and into the abyss.
When she reached it, she did not hesitate to plunge herself within the Light. Then all she had to do was let herself be taken and watch.
Agatha was never sure just how the Light functioned. Sometimes she was able to will herself to a certain place at a certain time, while other times the Light would simply take her somewhere and she would be powerless to see anything else. Right now she was content to simply observe what the Light showed her.
When an image finally appeared before her, it was not what she was expecting. It was an enormous and extravagent dining hall where a dinner table the length of a house was occupied by what looked to be a royal family at a meal. Each and every seat was occupied, fifteen in total, by red-headed brawny men with handsome faces and an air arrogance about them. The Westerguards... Agatha knew them, though not well.
All were men except for the Queen mother, positioned at the far end hunched over her plate looking tired old crone. She might have been beautiful in her youth, but the years and the plethora of children appeared to have taken their toll on her, and Agatha expected the cup she was sipping from was not filled with lemon juice.
Across from her was the King of the Southern Isles, a fat pig-headed man with a pug nose and thin red strings of hair covering his balding scalp. "Jericho," he barked to one of his thirteen sons across the table, who immediately snapped to attention. "I hear you're thinking of taking a trip to the Southern Domain soon. Tell me about it."
The man dabbed his face with a napkin, looking a bit surprised. "Oh, that? I changed my mind. It turns out the South is boiling this time of year, I've decided my time would be better spent in the shade." He nodded further down the table to one of his brothers, the only one Agatha knew by name. "But ask Hans. He's apparently going there again on one of his... oh, what do you call those, mission trips?"
"Guilt trips, I'd call 'em," another of the brothers chimed in, garnering a few mocking chuckles.
Hans didn't seem to have been paying attention. His eyes were thoroughly trained on the plate of fish in front of him. When he finally reacted, he put down his fork on his full plate and leaned back in his chair, never raising his eyes. "Yes. I... I leave tomorrow, actually. I thought you knew that, Father."
The King scoffed. "I can't be arsed to keep track of all my sons' travels and affairs. You've all got so many, most of all you, Hans. It seems like you've been gallavanting all around the world ever since your little stunt in Arendelle. What is it this time? Feeding the poor again?"
"Something like that," replied Hans.
Agatha could see right through his lies. Hans could spin a pretty tale about his charitable endeavors, but she knew his ship would be sailing West, not South. He was off to Astor for the start of the invasion, probably summoned by Alexander whose fleet was at the ready. Hans was going off to war and his family was oblivious as ever.
"Just make sure you don't get kidnapped by savages. We all know how the South can be," piped up another brother across from Hans, a huge man with a round face. "Or if you do, at least do us a favor and die down there, we don't need you coming back dressed in a loin cloth and singing about some Moon God." More snickering ensued, but Hans did not look amused.
"You joke, but you do realize how dangerous it actually is in the South, don't you? I mean I could... what if I don't come back? Would you all laugh then?"
"Only if we found out you'd suffocated on pig shit," the one named Jericho said.
"Maybe suffocating on pig shit is worth it for a cause you believe in," Hans retaliated. "But none of you would know that. None of you care about anything but sitting here safe and sound in the Southern Isles, brooding away in this castle. I'm the only one in this family that would put my life on the line to do something big in this world."
An awkward silence overtook the table as nobody knew quite how to respond, although it was short-lived.
"Good lord, you're so dramatic Hansy," another brother chimed in. "I wouldn't worry if I was you. I'm sure your stunning kindness and warmth will be enough to ward off any danger comes your way. Just pull out your massive, sparkling cock made of gold and I'm sure all your troubles'll disappear." The table erupted in laughter.
Hans shook his head and looked down at his mother, who simply picked at her food and took another sad sip. He scooted his chair across the wooden floor noisily. "I'd better pack my things," he muttered and stood. For a quick moment he surveyed the table. "Good luck to you all. Try not to choke on your own tongues while I'm gone."
With that, he stormed from the dining hall while his brothers shook their heads and sneered.
Agatha followed the youngest Westerguard prince out of curiosity as he stomped down to the courtyard where his master-at-arms was inspecting a rack of weapons.
"Sword," he demanded with an outstretched hand. Without missing a beat, the man unhooked a blade from the rack and tossed it to Hans who immediately ripped its sheath off and began wailing on an archery target next to him as if it were his most hated enemy. Shreds of linen and yarn flew in all directions as Hans hacked the thing to pieces, grunting as he did it. The master-at-arms just stared in half-amusement half-anxiety, leaning his back against the rack with folded arms.
When Hans was finished, he chucked the sword to the ground and ran a hand through his sweaty hair. When he noticed the man staring at him, he inspected him for a moment and then reached into a pocket.
"Samson, how long have you been our master-at-arms?" he asked.
The man grunted. "Longer'n I care to admit, your highness. Hell, I was teaching you how to fight when you were just a wee little tike. And I ain't never seen you swing a sword like that before. Thought you was gonna start steaming from the ears for a second. Something the matter then?"
Hans didn't answer. He instead pulled a large pouch from his pocket, heavy with coin. He tossed it to Samson who nearly dropped it from the weight and his eyes went wide.
"That's enough gold to buy a home with," Hans said and his face grew very serious, almost meloncholy. "Get out of here. You're a good man. My family doesn't deserve such loyal service. Make something of yourself. God knows you won't be appreciated here."
Samson clearly had no idea how to respond.
"I'm serious," Hans continued. "If there's anything you've wanted to do, anything, go do it. Open your own shop, travel the world, become a monk, it doesn't matter. Just don't give your time and energy to the Westerguards any more. Don't waste yourself. Not like I did."
Hans didn't wait for an answer, he simply turned away and began walking back to the gates of the castle. "Oh, one more thing," he added. "If I don't return from my trip, tell my family I suffocated on pig shit, will you?" Then he was gone.
The master-at-arms just stood there for a long while and stared at the gold in his hands, and for a moment Agatha thought he was about to cry.
If he did, she never saw. A flash suddenly blinded her as the courtyard faded away and a vision of Arendelle forced itself into her mind.
Suddenly Agatha could see Elsa in a cloak embroidered with the sigil of Arendelle standing with Anna, Aaron, and Kristoff on a dock in the middle of the harbor as the clouds churned grey and angry above them. Elsa's hands were outstretched and her eyes were glowing white. Blue particles of magical ice and wind and snow swirled around her, whipping around her hair and sleeves like sails in a storm.
Behind the four of them, the entire royal guard surrounded the dock to keep back a massive crowd of Arendelle's citizens who were gathered there, straining and pushing to catch a glimpse of their queen at work.
"You've got this, Elsa!" Kristoff called out from their spot about ten feet behind her. "Just don't overthink it!"
"Trying to concentrate here, Kristoff!" Elsa barked without moving. Anna elbowed him in the chest for that, but continued to stare at her sister intensely.
The queen clenched her jaw and the storm above grew even more intimidating. Agatha could see some of the citizens eyeing it wearily. Snow was falling gently and small jolts of lightning began to decorate the grey clouds.
Then all at once, something gave way. The water around Elsa's spot on the dock suddenly froze as the magic emenated outward from her body. With a crackle it spread exponentially until the water was a solid sheet of ice thirty feet out from the dock.
"It's working!" Anna gasped. "Kristoff, look!"
Agatha had heard about the plan that Kristoff had come up with when it was first proposed to freeze the harbor. Trade had been halted entirely as the days grew shorter and the city was stocking up on food and supplies.
The smaller boats that were normally docked in the harbor had all been taken north to the fishing villages or put in storage, and the larger ships of the royal navy had been mounted by a massive pulley system placed at the docks where they hung five meters above the water with their sails taken down. Not only did this keep them from being damaged by the frozen water, but it allowed for a strategic line of defense at the docks where archers could be mounted on high ground. Agatha could not have come up with a better strategy if she was there herself.
The only doubt was if Elsa could freeze the harbor without making it too cold to fight, or burying the city in a blizzard. Elsa was adept at summoning storms and cold, but keeping it measured and focused this way was something she had never really tried. Aaron was confident that her abilities had come along enough, but the risk of disaster was something that had not escaped notice when the plan first went into motion. Everyone's trust had been placed in the queen, and it all came down to this moment.
A surge of magic washed over the harbor and radiated into the fjord with a pulse. Within minutes, the entire fjord was encased in ice just as it had been more than three years ago, and the second Great Freeze was upon Arendelle.
Elsa closed her eyes and focused her magic. The storm began to disperse, but the ice remained. When she opened her eyes again they no longer glowed, but they looked full of relief when Elsa realized she had done it.
A burst of cheers and applause roared up from the crowd. "Queen Elsa!" they cheered. "Arendelle! Elsa! Our glorious Snow Queen!"
"It's perfect," Aaron yelled amidst the celebration as he ran down to inspect the ice. In a daring display of trust, he immediately jumped down onto the frozen water and landed solidly without a hint of unease. "Let's see Alexander's ships reach the castle this way." He walked out and stood below Elsa on the dock. "We aren't done yet, though. Are you okay?" he asked.
Elsa nodded as she hunched over, putting her hands on her knees. "Easy...as cake..." she panted.
Aaron smiled. "Come on then. It's a long walk to the edge of the fjord and we should get going as soon as possible. Kristoff, get the citizens moved back and have Captain Holdt gather the guard to come with us." Kristoff immediately saluted and ran back to disperse the crowd. The royal guard started hearding the people away from the harbor as Captain Holdt barked for his men. Soldiers started rounding up and moving back towards the castle, and the entire harbor was once again abuzz with activity.
Aaron began to walk out further onto the ice when he heard an ahem from behind him. When he turned around, Elsa was sitting on the dock with her arms outstretched, all of a sudden playing the dainty maiden. Agatha couldn't help but feel amused at the contrast to only a minute before.
Aaron's face grew red as he walked over and helped Elsa down onto the ice, pulling her into his arms. He put her down carefully as if he were handling a miniature ship made of glass. "Don't slip," he reminded her which garnered a look of amusement from the queen.
Agatha noticed that as soon as her feet touched down, the ice below her them morphed to form a perfect pocket in the shape of the boots she was wearing, making slipping totally out of the realm of possibility.
Just when Aaron seemed to realize what a stupid statement that was, Anna came flying down from the docks and landed on his shoulders, causing him to jolt forward with a surprised grunt. "Onward!" she shouted as she pointed with one hand and grasped Aaron's head with the other as if he were her mighty steed. Agatha was amazed he hadn't fallen.
The former prince couldn't help but smile once he regained his composure. He grasped the princess' ankles, and the three of them walked down the iced-over harbor with Captain Holdt and the royal guard in tow.
The rest of that afternoon Agatha watched as they constructed the wall. That part came much more easily to Elsa. She always did have the mind of an architect, and constructing a simple chunk of ice was not nearly as difficult a task for her, despite the grand size of it. She almost seemed to be having fun, adjusting the wall's measurements with a delighted flick of her wrist.
Aaron did not want the wall too high, just enough that ships wouldn't be able to easily lob projectiles or mount planks to seige it. The plan was to mount men on the top and pick off the initial wave of ships with arrow volleys and trebuchets. Aaron was confident that they could hold the wall and starve the army out as long as Alexander or Sophie didn't have any tricks up his sleeve. Somehow I expect they will.
In order to reach the top, Elsa constructed massive steps on both far sides of the wall that spanned the entire narrow section of the frozen fjord; the ocean beyond remained untouched by her magic.
If only she could freeze the entire ocean, thought Agatha. But even a Highborn as powerful as Elsa had her limits. Still, thousands of feet of ice as well as a solid wall now separated the castle and city from anywhere Alexander's fleet could reasonably reach and Agatha was hopeful. The defense was finally mounted and the city was prepared. All that was left to do was to wait.
But Agatha was not afforded the luxury of waiting.
The Light ripped her away across the sea, and suddenly she was with Sophie Sinclair, somewhere deep within the dimly lit palace of Calidae in the kingdom of Astor.
The princess was tying her pitch black hair back in front of a mirror in her bedchamber, her intense green eyes staring at her own reflection hungrily. Her hair had grown very long since Agatha had last seen her, falling well past her shoulders. A strand of it fell in front of one eye and Sophie blew it upward with a sigh of frustration. She looks just like her mother.
Agatha watched the princess of Astor eye a crimson and gold tiara laying on her bed. It had belonged to her Alma Sinclair and Agatha remembered it well. Without her glasses, Sophie was her mother's spitting image. She had her olive skin and slender nose, her elegant cheek bones and tall, thin physique.
But Sophie's eyes were different. They were darker, suspicious, full of torment and rage. They were overflowing with pain and uncertainty. They were the eyes of a murderer.
Sophie picked the tiara up, but she did not wear it. Instead she placed it in the highest drawer of her dresser carefully and chose a red beret to keep her hair back. She donned her glasses, and then it was time to become the Black Swan.
After her silk underclothes, Sophie wore a black jerkin made of fine leather and tight wool pants. Over that she wore silver mail specially fitted to her body, along with a pair of finely made black boots and gloves streaked with gold. She covered her shoulders with a black cloak embroidered with the red flame of Astor, its fine cloth falling past her waist. Finally, she pinned the royal flame sigil to her breast to signify her rank.
From her wardrobe she retrieved her weapon, a broad rapier forged from the finest steel in Astor. Its hilt gleamed with fire and gold. Its name was Black Panther. As it hung from Sophie's hip, it transformed her from a princess to a commander.
When Sophie walked down the winding marble staircase of the palace, she did so slowly, as if she were savoring every step. At the outside gates she came upon her uncle, staring out over the entire city of Calidae on the hill which the palace stood, down to the harbor where the fleet was amassed. The water seemed alive with fire as the ships sails were erected, proudly displaying the sigil of Astor in a menacing mob. Two hundred ships and ten times as many soldiers were preparing to embark on the biggest invasion the Northern Domain had ever seen.
Alexander Sinclair had never been one for appearances, but today he looked like a proper king. He was clad in red and black armor from the neck down and his hair long hair was tied back so his maimed face could be seen clearly in the sunlight. Massive pauldrons exaggerated his size and made him appear twice as big as he was. He wore bracers but no gauntlets, and his huge hands seemed to be pulsing with his magic. But for some reason, Agatha also sensed a hint of sadness upon his face.
He gave no word of greeting to Sophie as she approached stone-faced. "You are fully aware of the plan, correct?" he asked.
"I'm insulted you have to ask, Uncle," Sophie retorted. "I helped create the plan."
Alexander's nostrils flared, but he showed no other signs of anger. He never made eye contact with his neice, he simply stared out over the city. "I'll let your attitude slide for today, Sophie. I know things are tense. That's why I'll be sailing with you and your Father until we reach Arendelle. I want to stay near you and my brother for the journey."
Sophie looked a bit taken aback. Agatha had heard enough from Alexander to know that he never called Sophie by her real name, much less while expressing concern for his family. His tone was almost too calm and soft.
"Shouldn't we spread the command out, Uncle? Your men-"
"I switched some things around," Alexander cut her off. "I've given the Westerguard prince active command of the second wave of ships. Once Arendelle is in sight I will join him for the main attack. Meanwhile Efreet will stay with you and the leading forces. Use him well."
Sophie's eyes narrowed very slightly. He does not trust her, Agatha thought. The only family to stick by him, and he still does not trust her.
For just an instant Sophie looked speechless, even insulted, but she quickly reverted back to her casual demeanor and scoffed. "Whatever you say, Lord Uncle," she finally said with a cold bite to her words. "I should be going. Father needs my help getting situated in the ship. I'll have the men ready to go by the time you arrive. That is, unless those idiots have managed to sink more ships by the time I get down there." She began to walk away with a nonchalant wave.
"Whatever happens, remember, the queen is mine," Alexander said to her back. "And if Aaron is there, if he gets in the way..."
Sophie halted at the mention of her brother and half turned toward him.
"I'm leaving him to you," Alexander finished.
There was a pause. "Heh," Sophie forced a laugh. "Good. We have a score to settle." Then she began the long treck through the city.
At the docks, the princess boarded her ship; the largest battleship of the royal navy, black and gold in color, a beast of a vessel that loomed over the rest like a giant among dwarves. She quietly slipped through the ranks of soldiers on deck and escaped to the bowels of the ship where a hulking dark-skinned soldier with a bald head was tending to her father. She wasn't surprised to see Harold was laying already seasick in his chambers. The man was white as snow and slick with sweat, but Agatha had seen him worse.
"Sophie...there you are," he said as his daughter came to his side. The soldier backed away and stood guard at the door, a somber look frozen on his face.
"Are we...going to see my son?" Harold wheezed.
Agatha's heart dropped like a stone. The man had little grasp on reality at this point. She stared into Sophie's eyes, wondering what she would say.
For almost a full minute, Sophie said nothing, she simply stared.
Then, to Agatha's surprise, something in Sophie seemed to break as well.
Tears welled up in the princess' eyes and flooded her face all at once and she ripped her glasses from her face. She knelt next to the bed and took Harold's hand into her own. "Yes, Father...We are," she choked out. "You'll see him soon. You'll be with Aaron soon, I promise. I promise. I promise..." Then she buried her face into Harold's side and wept.
Agatha never knew how long Sophie stayed there. Slowly, it all faded away and Agatha found herself back on her island, staring into blackness with the Light behind her. If she still had the capabilty to cry, she would have in that moment.
The pieces are all finally set, she reflected.
Alexander Sinclair, the black king.
Elsa of Arendelle, the white queen.
Sophie Sinclair, the black knight.
Aaron Sinclair, the white knight.
Hans Westerguard, the black rook.
Desmond Holdt, the white rook.
Harold Sinclair, the black pawn.
Anna of Arendelle, the white pawn.
"Now the game begins," a voice called out to her from nowhere. "Let's watch, shall we Agatha Paddick?"
Sorry about the delay. We are finally here.
Go read the prologue again, because it has probably been a while and it is FINALLY relevant! The Battle of Arendelle is underway. Thanks for reading!