New chapter! Sorry, that was quite a wait. My right hand decided to die after exams and some recordings. To compensate, this one is really long and even has a Game of Thrones reference in it.

Chapter 21, where everything is near-perfect (but not quite) and natural (but not quite) and a mess, in the end, as always.

CW: some discrimination, violence, murderous thoughts, death

"Rapunzel! I was looking for you, I - ", came a new voice, yelping as the door came open again.

"Don't you even know how to knock?" Gothel sneered, warily eyeing at the newcomer's silhouette through the door frame. "You're Lady Anna, I presume. I have heard so much about you."

By Anna's side stood a tall, elegant young man Gothel deduced must be her fiancé. With a muffled sigh, she wondered how many of the people living in the house would barge in through the door. Alerting Merida, who had been sleeping just next door, and having her interrupt had been part of her plan, but the servant realised that she and Kai might need to deal with some more guests.

"You are not in a position to judge my beloved's good manners," Hans spoke in a slow, threatening tone. "Now let go of Merida."

"Kai, just listen to him, put down your gun," Anna implored, her voice suddenly choked by the surprise of seeing her most faithful servant turned into a traitor.

Across her, the older man hardly flinched.

"Kai - it's me, Anna, your Baroness Anna. And I order you to put this weapon down and step back immediately."

Only silence answered her. The room stood in perfect immobility, bathed in colourful light. Anna chewed at her lower lips, biting back her anxiety. She could hardly get any more awkward than that. Or could she?

"Kai - please."

A collective gasp or stupor seized the group in the small chapel. It was against every possible unspoken rule and convention of high society that a landed aristocrat may say please or thanks to her majordomes and maids. And to the ears of such a refined audience, the mere idea that Anna may break such a rule was by far the most shocking thing that had been pronounced or done all morning. Even Kai, astounded, swiveled around partially, his gaze almost meeting hers.

Hans, seizing the opportunity, was the first one to intervene.

He pounced onto the servant, pinning him to the tiled floor and away from Merida. Horrified, Anna watched her betrothed wrestling against her once-most-trusted majordome, dapples of darkness and multicoloured light preventing her to get a clear view. In the mess of entangled limbs, Hans hastily redirected a gunshot to the ceiling, knocking down one of the chandeliers.

Pulling Rapunzel back with her, Mother Gothel stepped away from the falling object, stumbling against the altar. Flicking her thick braid of hair onto the older woman's face, the blonde managed to break free. As she struggled to catch her breath, her mind was already racing ahead. Adrenaline, dilating every of her veins and arteries, making every fair hair on her porcelain skin stand on end. Adrenaline, filling in the voidness between the shattered pieces inside her. She had no time to lose.

She ran around the fallen chandelier towards the door, in a ruffle of skirts that blossomed like a silver and viridian lily. She passed by Hans and Kai, who were a mess of battling limbs, fabrics, blood and sweat on the marble floor, the gun kicked way out of their reach. She passed by Merida, slumped to the floor, still in shock, her loose ivory robe a pool of moonlight around her. Rapunzel stopped by one of the guardian suits of armour, gripping the hilt of its sword with both hands to set it free. As she eventually managed, the heavy weapon slipped out of her fingers to loudly clatter against the floor. The Andersen tradesman swiftly reached out for the dropped blade. But his adversary, taking advantage of the diversion, caught his arm and swung him sliding towards the nearest pillar.

"Merida, this… this should help you."

The Highland woman jumped around at the murmur, to see Rapunzel handing the sword to her in a rather clumsy and awkward fashion, her deep green eyes avoiding her gaze.

"What makes you think I need your help," the redhead spat back, in a way that sounded nothing like a question.

But her fingers reflexively closed around the hilt of the sword, finding the chill hardness pressed against her palm. The blade was longer and heavier than most of those on the polearm weapons she was used to wielding, but it somehow felt natural, just like an extension of her arm as it came into motion. Years of watching mercenaries practice and begging for lessons had led her to be familiar with most common weapons in Extremesia. Years of listening to her father's teachings had told her that the important in the end was not the weapon itself, but the motion, its balance, its rhythm and its fluidity. As she experimentally slashed the air before her, limbs, muscles and metal moved as one, breathed as one, lived as one. And then everything else ceased to matter.

That was what she had trained for, she realised. That was what she had been fated to do. Her fate lived, right there, in the metal in her hands, in her free-flowing fiery locks against her shoulders, in the tiles brushed by her bare feet, in her evenly and steadily beating heart. That duel was hers to fight.

"Over here, Kai."

The light fell obliquely onto her, casting stripes of gold onto her crimson mane and shimmering reflections onto the side of her silver blade.

"Well, well. Such a… resourceful choice of weapon."

He took a step back to draw the twin sword, clutched by the opposite suit of armour by the door. His eyes hardly left her as he held his weapon up high, seemingly mirroring her stance.

"Ladies first," he spoke with a derisive reverence.

And Merida was unleashed upon him, striking in a lightning of silver and ruby, slashing with unparalleled speed and force. The servant barely managed to block every blow, finding no opening to place an attack. Within mere seconds, she had him stepping back through the door and into the white corridor. Rapunzel watched, eyes gleaming, registering that most of the household had been amassed before the door, witnessing the altercation.

Behind her, Gothel's eyes scrutinised too, the faintest glint of interest sparking within their darkness. She knew her own asset better than anyone was inclined to think.

The Highland woman was as swift as a will-o'-the-wisp, as fierce as a mountain bear. Her adversary could only step back, losing ground like stalked prey. As she swung, parried and hit again, she danced a beautifully, brutally choreographed dance. Each stepping foot, each respiration was precisely timed to be lethal, swirling fury channeled into unbreakable focus and near-perfect control. Her blade grazed her opponent's doublet, causing him to stumble backward. As if wary of blocking, he did not even attempt to defend himself. Instead, he dodged. Her blade travelled over his shoulder, unbalanced by its own momentum. Utterly unprepared, she had to dash forwards not to stumble and crash, managing to stabilise herself after few agile steps away from him.

"Coward," she muttered under her breath, as she lunged toward Kai again.

Her fighting was a mortal choreography, but Kai was a good learner. A fast learner. As she was on him, he was prepared. He had seen enough to predict each of her moves, barely parry what he needed to and avoid the remainder. While she was tiring herself moving the weight of a sword too heavy for her, spending her energy and her boiling anger cutting hardly anything but thin air, he waited calmly and collectedly for her restless pace to wear down. Like a predator playing with its prey before devouring it.

But Rapunzel would not let it happen. Drawing her golden watch from her breast pocket, she expanded into its frying pan form and prepared to strike. Waiting for Kai's back to be exposed, she sprang forwards - and the back of her weapon met metal. Merida's heavy blade countered and set the clockwork pan flying through the air, brutally colliding with Anna's shoulder that had the misfortune to be nearby.

"This is my fight," Merida snapped at the blonde, "mine only."

The majordome quickly sensed her focus dissipating and her anger turning into despair. His swift eyes searched for a weakness in her stance. He was vaguely aware of the sound of Hiccup loading his crossbow behind him, suddenly interrupted by a low scowl:

"Don't even think about it."

Astrid immobilised the aviator by twisting his arm behind his back before he had time to shoot.

"You don't want Merida to have your head, do you?" she whispered as she reluctantly let go of him.

But both sparring fighters were upon each other again, the girl's full wrath unbridled upon the man. It all happened between them. The passionate and the measured. The intuitive and the analytical. The destruction and the discipline. The young and the old. The highborn and the servant. Fire and ice. Darkness and light, moving in such a blur one could hardly tell which was which.

The hunter and the prey.

His blade drew multiple parallel slices in the fine fabric of her nightgown, taking advantage of the mistakes caused by her tiredness and anger. The gingerhead lashed out in a series of deadly blows, seemingly forcing the traitor to a corner between the corridor's wall and a small decorative table that sat against it. Seizing her longsword with both hands, she raised above her head to bring it down at full momentum in a perfectly vertical arc upon her adversary.

The needle-sharp tip grazed his chest under his torn livery, drawing blood.

Then, he moved. At the exact planned moment. Executing a series of impressive backflips over the table, he supply landed on the other side on two feet and one hand, the other clutching the pommel of his weapon. Merida's blade, however, had found itself embedded into the piece of furniture's wood, breaking through the expensive layer of tortoise-shell that covered its smooth surface, next to a collection of exotic fruit tastefully arranged onto a fine porcelain plate, that had by incredible chance been left intact. As she struggled to draw it out, she saw her triumphant foe attack.

In a reckless way to buy time, she tossed the plate over, setting the fruit flying towards Kai. Unfazed, he cut through each makeshift projectile in mid-air with surgical precision, slicing fine crimson skin and ochre agrume pulp, sending fragments of rich pearly flesh and droplets of intense magenta juice around in a spectacle that was at once lethal and dreadfully aesthetic.

He pounced upon the table and onto her. The hilt of his sword collided with her sternum, making her drop to the floor, disarmed, the wind knocked out of her lungs. She hardly had any time to gasp before his boot rested over her stomach and his sword tip slashed through the air to rest upon her white throat.

In a fraction of a second, a torrent of incoherent thoughts flooded her mind. She would not die. He would not dare kill her when his task was to bring her back to Plant Alpha. Her pride was hurt. Thrown away to burn in hell would have been an understatement. There was hardly a graceful choreography that could even get her out of this situation. In terms of duelling, she was already vanquished.

A light flickered in her blue eyes. That of an animal being caught. That of a simple survival reflex. That of one who couldn't care about the fencing rules.

With all the strength she could muster, she reached upward to smash the ceramic plate in her hand against his wrist, the improvised move causing him to drop his blade right next to her head. Within instants, she was on her feet, holding him at swordpoint with the very weapon he had been wielding.

That was when she realised. That he was but a servant, and a traitor with that. That there was such a multitude of traitors, and such a multitude of servants out there, swarming like ants, just as dark and as unrecognisable. That unlike hers, his life meant nothing. That she had no need to stop her arm there, that she may rip through the fabric of his skin with the blade. That her dance had no necessity to be artificially stopped there, that her motion could flow on, that she could have her prey after hunting it down, that the powerful clockwork of the fates could simply tick onwards, even more potent and perfect as gravity fell upon her sword, as she…

Merida snapped out of her trance. Shapes moved quickly before her eyes. Before her, the majordome crashed to the ground, knocked unconscious by Hans's cane. Mother Gothel stood behind him, eyes wide with the shock of her defeat sealed by the duel's outcome. She was well aware of Astrid's rifle, Hiccup's crossbow and Tooth's knives threatening to be aimed at her. All she had left to do was what these fair ladies and noble gentlemen would do with their newfound toy.

Hiccup moved forward next to the young Andersen. The two gentlemen came to a silent agreement with a curt nod.

"So… it seems as though some decisions are to be taken," the pilot spoke up, the slightest hint of anxiety in his confident tone. "Most of us would agree, I believe, that it is best to keep the amount of… damage as low as possible. So here… is what I can suggest."

Avoiding Merida's eyes purposefully, he stepped forward to support Gothel's gaze. Brushing the back of his hair pensively, he stood unblinking, with polite yet stern determination, until she casually looked down in resigned acceptance for him to proceed with his terms:

"Madam, should you take the dirigible you came with, as well as its full crew, and leave the land flying back to Cornucopia impendingly, no harm will be done to you or your reputation. You may not make any stops or visits on the way... and I will personally make sure that your flight radiomessenger is inactive until you've crossed the ocean. When you are back in Centralesia, you are to spread no news as to what you've done here. What happened between the walls of this manor stays in this manor."

"You may fly the Stabbingtons' pavilion on your ship should they consent to it," Hans slipped in. "And should you not follow these conditions, just know that I have many powerful friends around this continent that will inform and support me. "

"The Company of the Southern Isles will make sure the terms are well followed," Hiccup insisted, swallowing quietly. "Anything to add?"

"Please swear that you won't touch a hair of Rapunzel."

As she spoke, seemingly flatly and emotionlessly, her eyes fleetingly moved toward Eugene. The latter nodded, followed by Anna and Hans nearly in concern, followed by Hiccup.

"And I ask to know what will be done of Kai."

Anna's cordial expression fell as the traitor's name was mentioned. Still clutching her wounded shoulder, she turned to her sister, but both knew that the decision power was seldom women's. Hiccup and Hans briefly consulted each other again, before Hiccup answered:

"Kai is a servant of this household, and he will be treated as such following the Extremesian codes and regulations. I trust Mr. Andersen will have these enforced rightfully."

With these conclusive words, Hans called some of his servants and marched to escort the matron out. Rapunzel clutched her pocket watch against her braid on her chest, wide eyes staring at the blankness before her. Her heart was in her throat, pounding louder than the rest of the universe.

But her eyes remained desperately dry.

Attempting to patch up the situation as best as he could, Hiccup turned to Merida.

"Mer, I know how that feels, I - "

"You know nothing, Haddock," she spat, swallowing a broken sob. Then, tossing her sword at the man's feet, she swiveled around and ran away.

"Does she always do that?" Hiccup sighed to himself.

"Yes."

"No."

Astrid and Jack, on either side of him, had responded in synchronisation.

"Jack, you've hardly even met her," the blonde woman said with a point of disdain, shooting him a glance that meant it and a lot more.

"Jack, do you think you could… help out?" the inventor asked, annoyed but hopeful, while his foster sister scrutinised the two men's body language with keen interest.

"Could try," was the Drifter's response, with a playful wink that made Hiccup's heart instantly melt.

Long corridors, assorting portraits looking down at her severely, silently. Merida was pacing restlessly and erratically, as lost in her thoughts as she was, she had to admit, in the mansion. Not that she minded much. She needed space. She needed to think. When the hunter wasn't focused on her prey, her mind was blank, like a sky clear of any airships that could distract her from the dark gray clouds.

Hesitation. A mercenary's downfall. A mercenary should not hesitate. A mercenary should not have second thoughts on giving death. A mercenary should cut the threads of fate without remorse when it was asked. And she had failed. She had not been perfect. She had hesitated. She knew there was no way she could deny the truth. She was not perfect.

Perfection. A human's damnation and salvation all at once. Perfection that pushed her forward, always further, perfection from the core of her posture to the tip of her blade. Perfection that made her split the arrow, perfection in her connection to the weapons in her hands. She was not perfect. She was unworthy. She was spoiled. She had to practice, practice even more, until her muscles cried in pains and aches, her fingers bled and her feet were covered in blisters. Imperfection, opening gates to her soul through which anger and despair poured in, violently, irrevocably. Imperfection, burning her from the inside until all that was left was a charred carcass with broken clockworks and melted springs.

She would never be perfect. It was a battle against herself, and that pretentious phrasing only meant that she was going to lose whatever happened. She would never be brave enough, she would never be able to change that fate she had been constructed and programmed to follow. She would never be a worthy warrior, no matter how hard she tried.

A warrior. A true warrior was brave at heart. A true warrior wielded pure fury and controlled it. A true warrior was bestiality channeled into perfection. A true warrior was one that moved together with the forces of nature, her anger flowing through her like a divine wind as she moved and flowed. A true warrior was always part of the equilibrium with the great machinery of everything, carried by the pillars of tradition and order that supported the chessboard of it all. A true warrior was part of that balance and aware of that balance…

And clearly Merida was not. Which was why she had just been caught by complete surprise and scared out of her wits, letting out an utterly un-warrior-ly yelp.

"Jack! What are you doing here? I didn't realise you were…"

But even in her state of anger, she was too wary to reprimand him. Especially when his half-serious puppy eyes begged for her mercy, hanging upside down from the closest ceiling beam.

"Just, um, hanging around?"

She stifled a laugh, reluctantly admitting he was quite a distraction from her dark thoughts. The silver-haired teenager gracefully jumped down to the chequered floor, obviously uncaring about gravity.

"You know, I was just wondering if you could… you know… give me some fencing lessons? I mean, what you did out there was…"

"Jack, just… I need to be alone, all right?" she said, doing her best not to lash out at him.

"I'll try again later then."

She hardly cared to disagree as he disappeared from her field of view. She continued her itinerary through the empty room…

"So, um, hey?"

Merida looked up to see him walking along the very next wooden beam, his trademark smirk plastered over his porcelain traits. So that was his definition of later. At that point, she judged she entirely deserved her foot in that lean stomach of his, and that it would provide her with great pleasure. Seemingly ignoring the lethal glare she gave him, he landed before her in an identical fashion.

"Merida, I was wondering if you'd like to beat me down with a stick to let off some steam while, you know, I get to learn something about sparring?"

How could the scoundrel exactly phrase the desires that had crossed her mind? A slight smile suddenly illuminated her freckled face.

"Now we're talking, Frost."

Hiccup sat in the central dark green armchair, one hand casually on the patterned armrest while his other elbow was popped up on his knee, his calloused fingers mechanically playing with the small braids in his auburn hair. His prosthetic foot was folded over the knee of his valid leg, completing a posture that was carefully studied to look calm and collected, while his back muscles were imperceptibly trembling with tension.

It did not help that Jack was half-sitting, half-sprawling across his armrest, clearly enjoying the intrusion to the older man's personal space. Astrid stood by the other side of the chair, upright and cross-armed, the wedge of her knee-high boot rhythmically tapping the carpeted floor. She stole repeated short glances towards Jack, while the inventor's forest eyes slowly scanned the filled boudoir around him. According to Elsa, Anna and Hans were at supper debating the laws and conventions concerning the slaves and servants employed by the Company of the Southern Isles, but the remainder of the Salon was intently listening to his words.

"This has happened once this morning, and this will happen again," he spoke quietly, but loud enough for the whole assistance to hear him. "Many parties are after us. Many are after you, Rapunzel. Your father wants you back, and any group that counts you on their side gain an extremely valuable asset in the balance of… things."

The blonde lowered her gaze to avoid his eyes. Hiccup swallowed, wincing at his own cringe-worthy wording. His clammy palm pressed slightly harder onto the armrest, creasing the geometrically embroidered fabric. He wished he had paid more attention on the formal functions his father had forced him to attend. He took in a deep breath before continuing.

"And you're not the only one, Rapunzel. Many of us are... valuable, in more ways than one. This is why you're all here, after all. This is why we make up the Salon of Extraordinary Outcasts, thanks to the tasteful choice of Lady Anna. Each of us, so peculiar, so talented, so unique. A rare piece for a sophisticated collection. But here's the point. If one of us is threatened in any way, just as happened this morning, all of us will be at risk. Anything that affects one of us affects all of us. We can't act like we're special curiosities idling sitting, wondering what's for supper and showing off our peculiar talents and sumptuous outfits. Not when there's a war raging outside, her metal nails scraping at our door. Not when there's a war barely contained inside, dividing us and tearing us apart slowly. Not when we're all pieces of an engine that is way beyond us, way larger and more powerful. An engine ruling for the rise and fall of a continent. An engine, like silent and gigantic puppeteer, that pulls all the strings of all our fates that have become inherently entangled. A mechanism where a single gear jamming or a single string breaking means the demise of it all. And I will not allow that to happen."

He made a brief pause, evaluating the impact of his words. The speech had become more natural as it flowed by, almost as intuitive as breathing and walking, as if the hereditary leadership skills buried so deeply within him, as his father had always remarked with disappointment, had slowly awakened at the time he needed them most.

"And that is why I called for this crisis meeting. Decisions are to be taken, and they have to be taken by all of us, together. From now on, we are a group. From now on, we stand as one and march as one. The Drifters and the colonists, those members of the Company of the Southern Isles and those allegiant to Corona & Sons, the base-born and the aristocrats, the maidens and the gentlemen. We haven't chosen to be together; it has been imposed onto us by the situation, and we have to stick together whether we like it or not. Differences and conflicts will arise, but choices will be made from agreements."

Or compromises, he reflected to himself, but agreements sounded ever so slightly less worse. He shifted on his seat to lean forwards toward his audience, both elbows resting on his knees and hands supporting his solemn chin.

"We have the funds, we have the skills, and we have the manpower. All we need is agreement. And this is what is going to make us matter. Not as a simple reactionary entity, but as an action force. A power to be reckoned with. A new authority on the chessboard. A new player in the game."

Reclining into the dark green back of the chair, almost matching the rich damask of his waistcoat, Hiccup listened to the silence in his wake. Time was needed for the words to make their ways through the mechanisms of dubitative minds. The first reaction would be the one to catalyse everything... or ruin all his efforts.

"I'm already in the game, Haddock," Merida snickered, shaking her ginger locks energetically. "What are we playing next?"

The aviator almost let out a sigh of relief, discreetly turning towards Jack, who he suspected was the one to thank. The silver-haired teenager's chill fingers brushed his sleeve over his forearm, almost as if by accident, sparking more affection than a thousand words could have. Trying his best to conceal his contentment, he addressed a curt grateful nod to the young Highland woman.

"Sandy, Jack and I could say the same," Tooth spoke up. "We joined forces for survival at that game… and we stay for the fun."

Her silent companion approved with a heavy-lidded blink, as curious bourgeois glances considered the Drifter couple.

"By this point, you have enough manpower to kill us if we don't side with you, so… you leave us no choice." Eugene pointed out wittily. "Count Punzie and me in."

The blonde seemed too lost in her own thoughts to confirm or deny. She leaned slightly onto her fiancé's shoulder, the lime green taffetas of his doublet matching the flowy silks of her skirts in tone, her eyes fixating a horizon far beyond the walls of the boudoir.

"Milady Elsa?" Hiccup enquired gently.

The quiet aristocrat crossed her slender legs under the thin fabric of her empire gown, and then their eyes met. Hiccup shivered slightly in his seat, caught aback by his own reflection in the mirror of her blue orbs. Reluctance, mistrust and yet, ardent curiosity. And secrets - secrets crucial to their very survival, as well as secrets that even their budding group would not want to know. They were more alike than he had ever realised.

"Mr. Haddock," the blonde finally said, breaking their meaningful silence, "I am aware that my sister would not greatly approve of her brand new Salon being turned into your… League. We have known the rest of you for such a short time, and forming such an unconditional alliance at this point is a rash and unwise action. I cannot say that colonists and Drifters together sounds like a coherent plan. I hold no proof that this is not a ploy for you to get hold of Hans, as an heir to the Company of the Southern Isles, or even of my most beloved Anna. And as such, I cannot grant you the entirety of my trust."

"Milady, let me-" the young pilot gasped between tight lips, whitened by intense focus.

"However, I am also aware that we are nothing without your League, and that your League means nothing without us. This is why I'm willing to experiment. This is why I, in the name of Mr. Andersen and both Baronesses of Arendelle, ask for your support and protection, in exchange for whatever humble means and information we can provide you with."

Humble means that started with the gorgeous mansion they were all sitting in. Well, that was better than expected. What Hiccup had in mind had been the precious facts about Rapunzel's surprising abilities, but whatever near-unlimited wealth the Company of the Southern Isles had to offer wasn't too awful either. He also noted in a corner of his mind that League was a rather apt name.

"What I ask for, however, Mr. Haddock." Elsa continued, "is that this group should aim to achieve a goal that would… not be detrimental to any of us. This means - not a victory for the Coronas, or for the Company, or for the raider tribes… but a compromise. A truce. A truce such that parents can be reunited with their children," she glanced to Merida and to Rapunzel, "and such that betrothed pairs can be happily married," she nodded bitterly toward Flynn, while it was clear she also had her sibling in mind. "This might not have been the honour and glory you'd been hoping for… but this is the agreement I'm asking for."

"So… you want to stop a war," Mr. Fitzherbert echoed before anyone else had time to react. "This means either corrupting every party, or blackmailing every party, or robbing them of all their weaponry and equipment, or playing their game and heading off the battlefront… Corruption wouldn't work, since all the funds we have is from them. Blackmailing doesn't make any sense, seeing who the members of the League are. Robbing… I could definitely do this - I wouldn't mind the castles and all - but that isn't at all realistic with the time scale we're talking about. This only leaves us one possibility. Take part in a war. And how many are we? Thirteen - minus Kai who just defected? Don't you think we need… an army for that?"

The Corona tradesman knew to be blunt and realistic when the situation was appropriate, and Hiccup was admiring and thankful about it, even though it did not particularly help. At least he would not need to formulate a response in these parabolic roundabout ways the bourgeois appreciated so dearly.

"Thank you for bringing it up. This is what Jack and I have been… debating this afternoon."

Astrid shifted a suspicious blonde brow at that. The Drifter decided to ignore it as he spoke up:

"Who would want an army when we have… a people?"

Muffled gasps seized the newly formed alliance, as realisation dawned upon their minds. It was inconceivable. And at once, it seemed like the most obvious solution.

"My people have dwindled in numbers - but we are still strong enough to be reckoned with. Raiding trains and airships from the Company, Corona, Berk Steel or Weseltons is what we do for a living. But that isn't all. Shortly before war broke out, an alliance was what we were working on. An alliance against those colonists chasing us out of our lands, I must add. But knowing my people, and knowing the other tribes, with all the present mess it's likely that our alliance still stands. This means there's a few hundred, if not a few thousand of us out there, looking for a cause to stand for and for a few zeppelins to take down for the fun of it."

"But… seeing what you did last time… wouldn't they shoot you on sight if you tried to pay them a visit to talk to them?" Astrid pointed out.

"They… would. And the same would probably happen if Hiccup or Tooth and Sandy were sent as envoys. Drago isn't too fond of the four of us. But I believe he'd give a chance to someone new, provided he finds advantages out of it."

"I'm afraid my past dealings with Drago puts me in the same box as you four…" Flynn remarked disappointedly.

Hiccup vaguely wondered what kind of trick the tradesman could have pulled off against the Drifter chief, but that hardly surprised him given Eugene's less-than-irreproachable reputation.

"Then maybe I could help…" Rapunzel softly suggested.

"That wouldn't work," Tooth intervened. "You're officially Mr. Corona's only daughter. You're too precious. They'd be too tempted to put a ransom on your head… The same goes for you, Merida, and for Hans, and even Elsa. As heirs of some of the most prominent fortunes on the continent, I doubt it would be safe for us to send you."

"For the sake of the survival of everyone here, I'd rather not go," Astrid added, to which Jack and Hiccup shared a relieved glance.

Once again, the brunette's eyes scanned the room, looking for a possible candidate amongst the League. Everyone he around had been ruled out. He considered the possibility of still asking Elsa, but…

"... Fine. I'll go," Anna's voice came from the doorsill she was casually leaning against, a thin woollen scarf draped around her freckled shoulders.

Extremesian sunsets fell quickly. The last warm rays of sunlight hardly lingered, only briefly gracing the cotton buds with an ephemeral quasi-incandescent amber glow. Each parallel row of the plantation cast a fast-growing shadow upon its neighbours, the advancing darkness specked with splodges of warm light. Hans stood tall beyond the fields, the servants of his household sternly lined up behind him. Before his graceful silhouette, the young man's shadow cast upon his bare back, Kai kneeled upon the earthy ground, hands tied behind his back, waiting for the punishment that a traitor deserved.

Someone gave Hans a sabre, as was customary. The gentleman's gloved hand wrapped around the leather-covered hilt, as he seemed to examine it pensively. The blade was sharp enough to cleanly slice through both the man's wrists and sever them from his arm, just as was the predicated treatment in… the case at hand - literally. The dark joke slightly echoed in Hans's mind as a pair of servants came with a wooden plank and positioned the traitor's tied hands onto it. Mr. Andersen gestured for them to step back before he approached Kai.

Heavy drops of sweat rolled down the man's parched skin. Resignation had cleared out the panic in his mind. He had been expecting this fate since the superb Elinor DunBroch had approached him, since he had accepted to follow her in exchange for payment and for adventure. He had always feared that one may not be able to change their fate, especially when one was a mere servant. Thoughts of gentle Anna and fair Elsa clouded the back of his mind. But they were aristocrats, born with an ornate silver spoon on their delicate tongues, and he would never be part of their world.

The touch of Hans's gloved fingers upon his was almost considerate. And then, he heard the blade whistle through the air.

He hardly had time to register the change at once. First was the chillness between his thumbs. He still had thumbs. He still had hands. And while the memory of the rope's harsh bite onto his skin was still present, his wrists were free. In shock, he turned around to meet the eyes of the forgiving gentleman who had sliced off his ties instead of punishing him. And the dreamy green orbs, almost luminous in the blinding sunset backlighting, appeared sincere. Understanding. Magnanimous.

Maybe after all, fate could be changed.

"Go," Mr. Andersen breathed out, just loud enough for the rest of the assistance to be able to hear.

The released man's eyes were suddenly full of tears, overwhelmed by the absolute generosity of his master, his ginger hair crowned in crepuscular sunlight. In the way he had been taught to since to since the youngest age, he bowed, his creased forehead meeting the dirt in front of his newfound idol's feet. But he would not waste more of the virtuous man's time. Within seconds, he was on his feet, dashing away towards his freedom, running through the semi-darkness of the woods, without turning back.

He hardly even heard the gunshot.

A small indigo puff of constellite powder danced in the twilight. Hans held his flintlock pistol straight before him, standing perfectly still, unflinching. The shot had impacted his prey in the back of his head and right between his two eyes. Hans was glad to see his aim continued to be near-perfect.

One had to be an idiot, rules or not, to miss such an opportunity of setting an unforgettable precedent for all of his servants, while avoiding some useless ugly maiming and definitively taking out a skilled and dangerous traitor. A satisfied light flickered in his emotionless emerald eyes as he slid the weapon back into its holster.

Fun fact: Merida calls Hiccup 'Haddock' with some disdain because of the traditional rivalry between her familial clan and his. This is supposed to mirror the historical/canon tension between the Scottish and the Viking. Also, I totally think that Merida and Ygritte are twins and that Hiccup is a Targaryen bastard who ends up on the wall training dragons. By the way, this basically closes the whole Gothel ark. This is the last time we'll see her, even though she won't be completely idle offscreen… I won't say more.

Author's mistake of the day: it occurred to me recently that there's a real-life place called Providence. It is totally an oversight from my part that such a toponym appears in AU - the in-universe Providence has nothing to do with the IRL one, this is just because I'm crap at US geography.

Announcement: I was planning to go back to regular updating, but I don't know how that will go. Expect some more this month at least? Hey, it takes me time to come up with something this long…

Another Announcement: During that hiatus, I did ome sketches of the story's protagonists in AU. You can check them out on my DA account (same username: eliazeravenfeather). My drawing skills are far from stellar, but yeah – this gives some idea of their outfits.

Yet Another Announcement: Talking about drawings, I also have some concept arts/teasers/covers for some upcoming fics of mine. I know, I said I wouldn't do that to focus on finishing this. Feel free to kill me. Anyway, more info on them will soon be on my profile, hopefully.

And Another Effing Announcement: (while we're at it) if someone had free time and wants to check my grammar and stuff, you're still very welcome! I will thank you with lots of love and publicity – and feedback/suggestions on your writing if you want, but I already have a busy beta-reading schedule on top of my busy real life. Feel free to message me! R&R, F&F, stay awesome xx