A/N: What's this? Another update?! You bet your sweet ice cream it is. That damn writers block seems to have finally vanished, and DAMN am I able to write this fic again. This fic will not be much longer than another five chapters at most, and a part of me is saddened by that prospect, but I have so many other fics that I have to wind down as well. I probably won't write another Frozen fic, but I must admit that I am enjoying this one.
WARNING: This chapter contains violence, gore, language, and mildly sexual content. Don't even try to say that the content is too graphic. I may be forced to become violent.
With love,
Korrupted.
Shout outs:
CobaltDusk: Actually, she made no mention of Kristoff to me. Pretty much, I asked her permission to use her artwork for the basis of the fic, and just ran with it. All of the characters, the plot, and everything else are all my own. Atomicredboots actually was raging in heart-broken horror at the end of the last chapter. She is discovering this entire story the same as all y'all. And to be honest, I didn't even know that she had thought Kristoff was dead. XD I know, I suck at life at times.
Disclaimer: I do not own Frozen still. And you all should rejoice in that fact. This is based on the AU Frozen artwork series by Atomicredboots. Check it out if you haven't yet, otherwise you are dead to me.
Kristoff saw the blade coming down for him, holding the wound on his chest as he squeezed his eyelids shut, waiting for the horrible pain of being impaled to erupt throughout his being. Each moment was like the world was slowing, the sound muffled aside from the thundering of his heart in his ears. It was a pity he wouldn't see Anna and Elsa again; they were his friends, and the closest he had to human family. Any moment now, the sword would end his life, and Gispai would be forced to lead their people without a mentor to guide him, the troll man waiting for his life to come to a close.
Only the agony never came.
At the sound of a bellowed cry of pain, the chief opened his eyes to see Sven with his hind hooves kicking Prince Olik in his armor, breaking the metal protection and sending the man sprawling. The reindeer looked at his friend and grinned, gaining a smile in return before his golden gaze leveled on the male staggering to his feet. Sven let out a guttural call of anger, snorting before he charged at the prince again. This time, Olik was a bit more prepared. The grey-green eyed man swung his blade at the creature, hitting one of the rocky plates to bounce off, the hulking beast still closing in on him. The antlers pierced through the magic-weakened breastplate and the flesh below to shoot out of his back, the tips painted vermilion.
Olik gasped, weakly struggling as blood choked him, his throat filled with the fluid that was both draining from his body and filling up organs. His eyes went dim slowly, his head drooping down almost lazily as darkness wrapped around his pain-swamped mind. The last sight before death greeted him was that of three of his remaining soldiers coming to help him.
Sven didn't see the men charging thanks to the limbs that flopped heavily in his vision, but he did feel the searing agony of spears being shoved into his form, bellowing in pain. "No! SVEN!" Kristoff cried out, watching his old friend turn to try to locate his foes before swords were skewering him next.
Kristoff shakily got to his feet, his blood boiling in rage as the magic laced reindeer slowly dropped to his knees, still trying to fight off the humans. The blond's expression was one of pure rage and hate, his hands glowing with deadly crimson magic, charging at the three fools who had stabbed his dear companion and comrade. "RAAAAAAGGGGHHHH!" He roared, the power lashing out violently, seeping into their eyes, ears, noses, and mouth like a vengeful fog.
The men began screaming as their hands clawed at their own faces, branches sprouting out of their features coated in crimson, tearing them apart as a new life was created from theirs, the corpses mangled and shredded horrifically. However, Kristoff paid no mind to the gory spectacle; he was already hastily removing spears and blades from Sven's body, his brown eyes hazy with tears. "Shhhh, it's okay, Sven. It's okay." He told the reindeer as the corpse was removed from the antlers, dropping it to the thick ice below.
The animal looked up at him with tired, pained eyes, weakly moving his muzzle towards his friend, laying on his side wearily. "I... am glad you are... safe, old friend..." Sven managed, watching as tears rolled down Kristoff's grey toned cheeks.
The troll chief fell to his knees, coaxing the earthen head of his companion onto his lap, stroking between his bloody antlers tenderly. "Oh, Sven... Why?" Was all he could force out, hearing a soft chuckle escape the dying reindeer.
"Because you and I are... the best of... friends..." Was the simple reply, the strength already leaving his voice.
"If only you hadn't been my friend, then you could have been happy with other reindeer. Not caught up in the affairs of men and magics... Reindeer are better than people... Sven, don't you think that's true?" The blond questioned, feeling broken. Sven had been with him ever since he could remember, even before the trolls. And now, he was dying.
"Yeah..." Was the dryly humored reply. "People will b-beat you... And curse you... And cheat you... Every one of them's bad..." He struggled to get out one more thing, his heavy breathing labored.
"Except... you..."
Kristoff wept openly as the great creature's sides stopped heaving, and all was silent aside from his cries. Sven's body shimmered with the ancient magic that had fused to his being, his form darkening, turning heavy and grey as Kristoff hurried to pull him to the shore. Finally, the reindeer had turned into an unmoving stone beside a tree, moss and vines covering it in some places as winter flowers sprout around it. The troll man stood in silence before turning to survey his troops. Nine including Sven had fallen to the invaders, but a message from the trees proved that there was no rest for the weary; Prince Hans and the Duke of Weselton himself were closing in now. As much as it pained him, he had to return to the castle and warn the queen. "Brethren, let us return home." He instructed, all of them burrowing through the earth towards their hallow.
"Hey Anna!" Olaf cheerily greeted the warrior princess as she crawled back out from under her bed.
The girl was angry at herself for losing the crystal, her blue eyes glaring at the ever-happy snowman. "Olaf, not now. I'm looking for something." She growled at him.
"Oh! Okay. Well, I just wanted to ask if you knew that your sandwich was glowing. Hope you find it!"
'My sandwich is what?' She irritably thought, her narrowed eyes darting around as she stood. Finally, they settled on her desk, where her partially eaten sandwich was indeed glowing a soft ice blue. After several seconds of confusion, realization struck the princess, darting over with a gasp to yank the food up to reveal the crystal she had been looking for. With a grin on her face, she fixed the item back onto her scabbard, once again walking down the hall to see Elsa now that the meetings were all finished.
The scarred princess of Arendelle headed to the throne room, walking inside to see her queen sitting on her fur covered seat, a troubled expression on her features. She swiftly knelt in respect, concern growing inside of her. "Queen Elsa, what seems to trouble you?" She inquired from her position before the blonde, hoping it was something she could kill to fix; the knight was itching for a battle.
Ice blue eyes gazed down upon her, the cold hues filled with unease. "Kristoff has been far too quiet these last few weeks. I sent for his audience, but the soldier said that the valley was empty. I worry a great deal that one of those treacherous Southern Isles brats may be behind it." The woman admitted.
Anna internally winced, debating if she should tell her sister the truth or not when Olaf came prancing in with a tray of sandwiches and chocolates. "Elsa~! Anna~!" The gigantic snowman sentry lumbered in rather abruptly. "Marshmallow~! The gang's all here!"
The princess knight of Arendelle rolled her eyes at his antics, snatching up one of the chocolates as Olaf twirled by her with one hand, a roasted hog sandwich in the other. Part of her worried about her friend, but she ws certain he would come back to them. He always had been there after he became chief; bursting into their chambers at the least opportune times, talking to them of magic and love, ignoring the open stares of other humans as he spoke to the queen on important matters, laughing with them when they were behind closed doors. He was the brother that Anna never had, the force that made her both annoyed and happy at the same time. How would she cope without him should he fall? The princess knight dare not dwell on those thoughts.
Elsa watched her younger sister with an absent-minded smile on her lips, her mind still trying to consider reversing the creation of ice and cold as Kristoff had suggested. In a few days, the force the troll chief had spoken of would arrive, but oddly there had been no sentry reports of any invaders yet. At the very least, there should have been some word of activity from the outer most guard stations. Something, anything, but there were only reports of typical activity. Perhaps the army had been hit by a nasty storm, or had fallen to some disease before they had finished crossing into their allied fjords.
The Spaniards and Italians were to be arriving soon with forces of their own to aid Arendelle, but Elsa was growing nervous. And then that Kristoff was nowhere to be found was even more distressing. What could have happened to their friend to cause this? The queen had not a clue, but it was a problem she needed to solve. The blonde watched as Anna finished her food and walked past her, a pale hand grasping the strong princess knight of Arendelle's wrist and tugging her into the lap of her regal queen. The strawberry blonde squealed in surprise, finding one arm snaking around her waist as the other crossed her front, locking her in a restricting embrace, the pale, cool lips of the elder sister kissing right below Anna's earlobe. "I know resting has been driving you mad, Anna... So let me help you unwind a bit."
The way she had purred so seductively into Anna's ear caused the smaller woman to quiver slightly, the sharp nip laced with just the barest hint of frost on her pulse causing a tiny moan to be heard. It always delighted Elsa that only she could cause the terrifying warrior to react this way, one hand slipping up the bottom of the tunic to trace the tips of her nails along the surface of her loyal knight's toned stomach, frost once again enhancing the sensation. The younger princess was squirming and groaning languidly, her queen content to sensually torture her while seated on her fur covered throne for a bit longer. The hand started it's decent towards the hem of the trousers, Elsa's lips devouring the throat being offered to them as Anna tilted her head to expose more of the soft surface, dark hickies blossoming to life from the rough attention.
And then the ground produced a tiny shower of dirt as Kristoff rose from the throne room floors, Elsa almost hitting him with a last of ice out of both surprise at the sudden arrival and sexual frustration at his intrusion. When she could properly make sense of things through the cloud of desire fogging her brain, Elsa released the now furiously blushing - and scowling - Anna, her own features sharp. "Kristoff, I have been trying to call upon you for over a week! Where- What happened to your chest?"
The Ice Queen stood and walked over gracefully to see the man's bruised form closely, the healing wound now just a mossy injury along his grey chest. Blue eyes darted up to meet brown, her expression now greatly concerned. "What has happened?" She questioned, Anna also moving closer to their dear friend.
He swallowed slightly, opening his mouth just a little and moving his lips uncertainly, finally finding the words. "Two of the princes were engaged by myself and the other trolls by the third outpost fjord." Kristoff's voice sounded rough and thick, as if it had gone unused for days. "Both were slain, but there were losses on our side." A few tears ran down his cheeks. "Sven was one of them."
Elsa's jaw was hanging open at his news, partially furious that he had gone to fight the enemy without at the very least informing her, and part sad at the loss of the reindeer that would do his best to devour Olaf's carrot nose every chance he got. Anna stepped up to hug the loincloth and cloak clad male firmly as he blinked a few times, finding the strength to continue his message. "The Duke of Weselton and Hans himself are approaching. I suspect that we have a week at most before they are here. We must prepare for them, and be ready to strike them down."
The queen chewed on her thumb slightly in thought, her ice blue gaze hard on the floor. She could bring in a harsh blizzard on the day of battle to aid them, but that would mean that the winter armory production would have to be doubled to ensure her soldiers and people didn't freeze themselves as a result. Kristoff would be able to help with that and still recover from his recent skirmish, but he would need to work with someone he was not fond of. "Kristoff, I must ask something of you." She spoke in a strong voice, her hand dropping away to reveal a certainty that hadn't been there mere moments ago.
"I will do all that I can, Queen Elsa." His wise voice had regained a bit more strength now that he was back among his friends.
"I need you to assist my chief outfitter with creating more heavy winter clothing. There will be a very nasty cold-front in a week or two." She stated.
Kristoff's jaw dropped, suddenly crossing his arms over his chest defiantly. "There is no way I am working with Oaken! He is a crook!" He responded angrily.
The warrior princess rolled her blue eyes at this eternally tiring argument that they would have any time someone suggested that he go anywhere near the former trader. "For the last time, he was raising the prices on that man because he was from WEASEL TOWN." Anna half growled at the troll chief.
"It still was unfair."
"Kristoff, I need you to help him. His entire shop is still in disrepair and we know you can be of great assistance to us there." Elsa decided to plead a bit more. "Do it for us? Please? You still need to recover from that skirmish."
Kristoff seemed to visibly deflate at that, sighing before running his fingers through short, twig-like blond hair. "Fine, I will help Oaken." He submitted, earning a small smile from the two women.
"Thank you, my friend." The Ice Queen uttered, feeling much more relieved now.
The Weselton foot soldier anxiously approached the tent of the Duke, truly not wanting to deliver his message. He knew it would not do well to present such information to the man many considered a cowardly merchant, but he had no choice in the matter; he had drawn the colored stick in the game of lots with his company. Finally, the maroon clad man stood in front of the tent flap, clearing his throat nervously. "Yuh-your Grace? I bring you news." He stammered slightly, already wishing to flee the wrath of the old merchant who had faced off against the Mad Queen herself several times.
"Ah, do come in. Reveal your news to me." Was the reply.
With a gulp, the man lifted the flap and entered the large and lavish, but poorly lit tent, his hazel eyes roving along the textiles on the heavy canvas walls. The fire pit in the middle was half banked, casting shadows along the thick ice below, a shadowed figure sitting at the desk to the far back. The low fire glinted off of the left eye behind the pair of spectacles on the elder man, an eerie red light moving from within the socket to light upon the man before him, a mechanical whirring accompanying it. The gulp the soldier made was so loud to his own ears, he feared that the King of Southern Isles could hear it. A metallic tapping sound was heard next as the Duke tapped two fingers on his left hand on the wooden desk surface, waiting for the news he had been promised. "Prince Olik and Prince Ferland are dead, Your Grace. It looks to be the work of magical beings that the Ice Bitch have made a dark pact with. Perhaps... Trolls?"
There was a scoffing sound from the shadowed man, the red light narrowing slightly. "Trolls? What will you tell me joined forces with her next? Ticking crocodiles? Great white apes? A small talking dragon from the Orient?" The Duke mocked, showing his distaste for the mythica his men indulged in.
The maroon warrior was quivering so hard his armor was rattling. "N-no, Your Grace! We have thought of any other possibility, but we could come to no other conclusion!"
The sound of a metallic fist hitting wood so hard it splintered filled the air, the sharp smell of ammonia soon joining it as a small yellow pool formed at the feet of the terrified soldier. The Duke stood, his short frame oddly sturdy for a man his age, his weasel-like face sharp as he walked with the right side of his body visible to the younger and taller guardsman. "You disappoint me. You prattle on and on about nonsense when there is more than enough witchcraft being thrown about from the Mad Queen. It could have very well been just another power from Satan himself she has gained." He reasoned coolly.
"B-ut, Your Grace-"
"SILENCE!" The old Duke bellowed, turning to face the now cowering soldier.
The left side of his face was heavily scarred, his left eye socket fitted with a mechanical one, the red oculus device contracting into a thin beam that looked deadly and fierce. His left forearm was another mechanical wonder, as was the left side of his rib cage and both of his legs. Each time he had encountered Elsa on the battlefield, she had taken a little more of his body away from him until he was but an old cripple left to sit uselessly in a chair. But, being the wealthy Duke of a trading country did have it's benefits; he had employed the finest craftsmen and builders to create new limbs and parts for him. Where others had seen dismemberment, the Duke saw opportunity. His new limbs were immune to the cold, powerful, untiring, and they allowed him to achieve a physical fitness that he could only have wished for even in his prime. He was by no means a hulking man, but one could sense his strength in the human parts of his body, the Duke of Weselton a very dangerous foe indeed. One who sought to make Elsa suffer the same humiliation and pain that she had caused him. That bitch had left him an invalid, he would have her begging for death.
But as of this moment, a trembling soldier was the sole target of his wrath, the old merchant Duke seething in fury. "Your silly fantasies have no place out here! The cold insanity of that frigid bitch is more than enough evil for this world!" He snarled in a low tone.
The soldier bit his tongue against any further words that could infuriate the man more, nodding quickly in terror. It seemed to placate the Duke, the red beam softening as the mechanical eye dilated slowly, as if considering a fond memory. Maybe he would be unharmed now. "However, I do need an example to ensure that these foolish tales will stop being spread."
The man froze in horror, his hazel eyes so wide that the whites were clearly visible. "No... Please, Your Grace!" He begged, taking a step back as the man moved closer. "Please, forgive me! I swear it won't happen again!"
"Indeed, it won't."
The sounds of inhuman screeching filled the cold Nordic night, wordless agony and the horrible noise of what might be flesh tearing mingling to create an eerie symphony of torture. The next day, the soldier was found outside the encampment, barely alive and huddled in a mass of blood-soaked cloth, his shredded skin scattered around him with a white banner fluttering on a post, the words, 'Mythica is not permitted' written in the soldier's blood, his face fixed onto the bottom of the white cloth. The skinned man was whimpering for the mercy of death, but all knew not to comply; the Duke had left him alive to die on his own as an example. Any who dared to bestow him the release of death would share his fate.
"Quit your gawking! Prepare to break down camp. We move out in the next hour!" A captain bellowed, the Weselton force turning their back on the poor soul. They had a war to fight, and a witch to destroy, and God save anyone who dared to speak of creatures of the magical realm.
A/N 2: D-d-d-damn! The Duke of Weselton is kind of a bad-ass. A terrifying bad-ass, but still as bad-ass. Steampunk Duke for the WIN! I'm having too much fun with modifying these characters. Stay tuned for the next update, and don't forget to leave a review!