Author's Note: Hello, everyone. So, for those who don't know, I'm currently more seriously writing another fanfiction called Darling Deduction: check it out. But I really was inspired to write this story as well. However, while I'm updating that one once a week, this one will probably be on a less specific schedule…I'm thinking every other Saturday at this time, but I'll let you guys know if I decide to switch to once a month. While this story is, in essence, more of a romance than Goblin Rebels (my first story: check it out too, if you like—it's complete), there is going to be other prominent themes in it as well because, frankly, if I tried to write a straight-up romance, I would probably end up ripping out all my hair in frustration. Anyway, enjoy and let me know what you guys think.
One. The Mission
"There is beauty in your magic…but also great danger."
—Frozen, Grand Pabbie
The scalding sun boiled the sand as the dusty wind gave little relief to the blistering inferno. The desert was silent. Yet the soft hum of a warrior's blade could be heard vibrating in the sandy hills. An invisible fight raged inside the dunes. Suddenly, a warrior shot into the sky like a feathered arrow, flying high above the scorching desert. Four black figures flew up around him on each side, their airspeed significantly slower than his.
Their swords were raised over their heads as they dove at the solitary figure. For a single second, it looked as if all the figures were suspended in the air, as if time had frozen. Then, in a quick flash, the center figure raised his hands and a rush of heat enveloped the four attackers as flames shot from his palms, surrounding their bodies and incinerating them in one clean sweep.
The single figure fell back to the ground as ash and dust fell around him. His sand-colored clothes blended into the ground, and the tips of his long cloak wafted in the gusts from the cremated attackers. As the foes' swords fell to the ground and lodged themselves deep into the sand, everything fell silence.
When all the dust had settled, the figure opened his red eyes and looked over the horizon. At its very tip sat a fortress, constructed to rise above the sandy wasteland around it. Though his face and head were covered with a thick turban and headscarf, his eyes twinkled slightly at the sight the city. Without a word, he made his way towards that citadel.
The inside of the city was busy, filled with those who inhabited the pits of hell. But this figure did not bother traversing the streets. Instead, the rooftops were his road as he flew across the space between the buildings, silent as a hawk. It took him moments to come to a halt, staring up at the center citadel before him. The inside wall that surrounded the king's palace rose much higher than the outer wall. But this obstacle also proved little nuisance to this man.
His first jump brought him across the gap separating the nearest building from the wall, and his feet and hands dug expertly into the brick of the wall as he scaled it as quickly as a monkey. Once at the top, he dashed past lazy guards and descended into a lush, tropical garden which surrounded the palace.
While his path brought him up the side stairs and past a curtain into the interior of the palace, his eyes were continuously aware of his surroundings, making certain not even a small slave saw him. Even his sandals did not make a sound on the miraculously clean, white marble floor. Finally, he slipped inside a room and looked around, observing every particle inside.
It was a large bedroom, lavishly furnished with tapestries, silks, and bamboo furniture. Transparent drapes hung over doors which appeared to exit into a private garden. The entire place gave an aura of power and wealth.
The figure walked forward to glance up at a tapestry ordaining the wall. It showed a battle waged in the desert. In the center stood a warrior, his right hand raised to the sky as a huge bolt of fire shot from his palm, enveloping the entire heavens in flames.
He smiled at the tapestry again and removed his turban, letting it fall to the ground as he shook the dust from his pitch-black hair. His eyes shone a soft, red color, and the skin around his left eye was tainted by a thin red scar, almost invisible to the naked eye. He was young.
Footsteps sounded in the hall, but the figure made no move to hide as an elderly man entered the room, clothed in a white robe. In one hand he held a broom and in the other he held a bucket. However, when he saw the figure, he froze.
Recognition dawned on the old man's face, and he fell into a low bow, his knees cracking as he bent his knee in respect. The figure watched him as the man said in a thick accent, "Your highness, hail to the prince of the sun and the stars. I was not aware of your return. I will prepare you Nilgiri tea and bread to relax you from your long journey, and I will inform Lord Sikh of your arrival."
The prince finally spoke, his voice deep and gravelly. "Tarry for a moment, Albare. Before you inform anyone of my arrival, I should like to have a proper bath to wipe the blood of the raiders off my body. The tea and bread can wait."
The servant bowed, quickly making his way to the attached bathhouse beside the bed chamber. Within an hour, the prince had emerged from his bath feeling more human and less vagabond. The moment he reentered his chamber from the bathhouse, he was treated with the sight of a small man, half his height and twice his girth. The man wore robes that seemed to envelope his short stature, though his stomach looked larger than humanly possible. His head was wrapped in a turban to keep the world from realizing he had no hair on the top of his head.
When he saw the prince enter, he bowed low. "Prince Haydn, your arrival is fortuitous. Your father, our great king, has just this past day sent soldiers out to look for you."
"Oh, is there a warrant upon my head?" Prince Haydn's lip twitched as he attempted not to laugh at the pathetic creature before him.
"Do not joke, I beg you, your highness. Your father is in quite a hurry. I am certain he will want you to leave upon the day."
"Leave, Lord Sikh? I have just returned home. If he is concerned about the raiders, I took care of them with little trouble. What else would he have me do for our country?"
"Journey north, sire."
"Clarify you statement, Lord Sikh, before I am tempted to cut out your tongue."
The little man trembled a bit, amusing Prince Haydn even more. "He is sending you on a wedding mission."
"Whose wedding?"
"He is hoping yours. He wishes you to make a queen fall in love with you and make you her king."
"Does my father not see I have not the time to seduce ignorant queens? I refuse." The prince turned to leave the room, but Lord Sikh followed closely on his heels.
"But your father will insist. And, your highness, this queen is quite unique. She has powers that are quite extraordinary. If we were to combine the fire powers your family possesses with her powers, no one would stand in your way."
The prince paused, turning his head slightly to address the lord. "You say she has powers? What sort of powers?"
"Cyrokinetic powers, sire. She controls ice, frost, and snow. Not six months ago she froze her entire kingdom. She hid her powers amazingly for twenty-one years, but now that her powers have been revealed, many kings and princes will seek her hand for the power she possesses."
Prince Haydn snorted. "What a sad world it is that a woman's worth is given by the power she possesses. And I suppose I have no choice in the matter of going."
"Indeed, the king will surely send your cousin Lord Jain with you to make sure you succeed in your mission."
"Am I then a slave to be ordered around by a master?"
Lord Sikh made no answer.
"Then tell me, what is this ice maiden's country and name, and what excuse shall I give for showing up at her doorstep?"
"The excuse is a wedding, her younger sister's wedding, to be exact. To a mere peasant, I hear. Oh, and her name is Queen Elsa of Arendelle."
"Queen Elsa of Arendelle." Prince Haydn raised his hand as a small flame rose from his fingertips and hung in the air above his hand. "What a lovely name, for such an icy queen. This should be bothersome and tricky, but also ever so interesting!"