Chapter 9:He Talked Too Much
A/N: And yay, Kristanna is engaged! Hooray! Now here's the little surprise I told you about. Let me know if I should do more of Rane's point of view, I had a tad bit of trouble writing this, but I think it turned out to be pretty good! I'll be back with Elsa's POV(and maybe Christian's) next chapter. I admit, a lot of this story is inspired by Snow White & the Huntsman and Gladiator. Reviews are welcomed!
-Dee
"I want five thousand silver swords made by the end of next week."
"But, Your Majesty, there are only twelve of us an-"
"Do it! Or I shall find blacksmiths who work swifter."
"Y-Yes, Your Royal Majesty." the old man bowed deeply and then hurried out of the tent.
"These stubborn asses, they do not listen to me! Do they not respect me, sister?"
"Of course they respect you."
"Then why do they object to my wishes? They don't love me." the young woman faced herself in the mirror, teary-eyed.
"Shh." the sister's arms wrapped around the woman, and she rested her head on the woman's shoulders.
"Leave me" the girl spat, tearing herself from her sister's grip.
Without objection, the sister left.
She gazed upon the mirror, her black hair in a tight ponytail. With a sigh, she untied the bow, letting the shadow fall. She turned towards the dim-lit blazer, and threw the red ribbon into the flames. The woman spun back to the mirror, soaking in the vibrant laurel green eyes from her mother, the high cheek bones from her father, her pale skin from her grandfather. She did not know where she inherited the large bust and wide hips, but she was thankful, because she was able to persuade men with them. She had never shown much skin before. A short-sleeved peasant dress was the worst she'd revealed. But she has all this power now, all these followers, and plans. She wouldn't let anyone get in the way of them.
Especially not Queen Elsa.
Queen Elsa was a fool. Twirling around with her cursed ice magic. Elsa had killed her parents with it. While running away from her petty, sad, pathetic problems, the girl had filled the land with eternal snow. That is, until Princess Anna sacrificed herself and unfroze it. But it was too late. Her parents, frostbitten and innocent, died.
And after Rane dug out the crown she's discovered on the North Mountain, she decided to take matters into her own hands.
"Rane?" her sister's face had appeared beside hers in the mirror.
Rane closed her eyes, "I said leave me! I wish to be alone!"
"I know. But a messenger is back."
"They're headed here? In Daloma? How did they find out we were here?" Rane screamed.
"We know know, Your Highness, but we have a reason to believe they're being aided by an outside force. Perhaps they spotted us while sailing here."
"From where?" Rane stopped pacing, froze, and groaned.
"The Southern Isles."
"AH!" Rane hurled her knife at the messenger. She sprang across the room and her fingers curled around the knife, ripping it out. Blood squirted out of the wound, a bullseye cut straight in his heart, and he fell to the ground with a thud.
Rane panted, her hair covering her forest green irises. She bent down to pick up the knife and forced it back in his scabbard.
"He talked too much."