James watched the ship from Arrendelle bob idly on the waves. He had many conflicting emotions. He hated them. The princesses grew up spoiled and posh. In his mind's eye, the adopted prince remembered Sophia and Anna, laughing and dancing and eating and eating and eating...
His stomach growled, so he growled.
They had all the food in the world, and it took her years to deign her homeland a visit? He had to grow up here.
His father, Archer, had been murdered. For weeks, the boy lived terrified of what would happen to him. The twins were already discussing ways of 'getting rid' of the young boy. Then, finally, the answer came from the unlikeliest of sources; Uncle Hans.
He did not trust the man at first, no one did. And, even seeing his uncle's promise of Arrendelle aid literally in sight, James was far too much of a Westerguard to put much faith in anyone.
And he was a Westerguard. Despite his adoption, James knew who he was, and knew that the throne should be his. Hans believed that too. Which was why the present situation in the Southern Isles was so... confusing.
The whole country was on the lookout for a golden fox. Even though they were all extinct, Hans had managed to convince the twins that if just one could be found they could settle this dispute.
Surprisingly, the pair agreed. So at least the overt war had come to an end. And not a moment too soon. People were starving, and most of the military was either dead, or too confused as to which side they were on to keep going. Overall, it was about time that princess got here!
James knocked a bolt into his crossbow. Uncle Hans had been surly when he explained the plan. The plan remained as it had been from the beginning; peace. But now the King's Hand was out on a wild goose... er, fox chase with the rest of those morons!
James shook his head. There she was...
Elsa.
Wow, what a beauty. No matter how long the day, or how hard, Uncle Hans always found the energy to think about her, to talk about her. She was a goddess, a living representation of the love he wanted. She was power incarnate. His beating heart, his blah, blah, blah.
For whatever reason, Elsa had not docked yet. Perhaps she was awaiting an escort? James scoffed. They were waaaay beyond trying official means of establishing power. His uncle had taught him the secret skills of an assassin. Show up, shoot straight, run away, frozen heart.
The queen came within shooting distance. James aimed, drawing his bead in as tight as he could. He took one breath, then another. Then he fired.
The bolt flew, and struck his target.
...this made no sense.
Why would his uncle have him almost kill Queen Elsa? It served no one's purpose. A pair of bright blue eyes found the assault. Some kind of process happening behind them, a memory perhaps.
She turned and screamed her orders before... leaping from the boat?!
Ice streamed for her hands as her feet froze the water. The ships around her went still before erupting with troops.
Whoa.
They really wanted her dead!
Somehow, using just one bolt, Hans had communicated that it was unsafe where she was, and that she was under a direct attack from ships around her. The man was a genius, and his wife was a powerhouse.
James snuck from his hiding place, making his way from amongst the rubble and charred bushes to a higher vantage point. While he was fleeing, the ship made its way backwards, navigating away from the dangers accosting it.
This pleased the prince. He had no time for weak allies. Enough people had died for him, and against him for the young boy to come to the conclusion that only strength was valuable.
There were times, however, when his uncle showed him that there was more to life than power.
"Power," He explained, "Mean nothing. If you have the power to live a life of anger and starvation, what good does that do you? If you have the power to live a life of anger and extravagance... is that truly better?" He shook his head, "Someday, you will discover a reason to live beyond this violence and killing.
James huffed in disbelief. His uncle's love of Arrendelle would be his undoing. What was so special about that place anyways? Were they king-makers or something?!
It was then that a single figure made its way off the Arrendelle ship. It was small, and furry. The fur was what drew the attention of every man attacking the Arrendellean ship; golden. The fox's pelt was golden.
James inhaled sharply. The Arrendelle ship indeed held a king-maker. If James could kill that fox, he would have a throne and a pelt to go along with it!