Chapter Fourteen: Revelations
Alphonse made it less than a mile before he couldn't stand to fly anymore. He tumbled from the sky and collapsed into the snow of the mountain in human form. The snow was dotted red with the last few tears of blood, followed by hot tears of sorrow. Heartache lanced through his very core, regret and anguish that he couldn't be there for Elsa. His fate was set in stone, carved on that day long past in the cavern with the well.
His price, the toll he had given, meant he couldn't be there for her, couldn't give what she wanted. What he wanted to give to her. Love.
Images of Alphonse's family, of their fates, raced through him as the walls keeping the memories bound crumbled, their chains shattering.
Alphonse, eight years old, was returning home from the close by grove of trees, wild blackberries filling the basket he carried. He was eager to return because mother had promised to bake her special blackberry pie and had promised that he could have a slice. Sure, all of his sisters would get one too, but that didn't matter to him. It would make them happy, and him happy, so what did it matter? Everyone would be happy!
As he approached their home, Alphonse smelled something burning. Was Father trying to cook again? Most men didn't cook, but Father had been trying to learn for months, with mixed results. Wait, that was wood smoke. Why would they light a fire in summer? As he rounded the bend, he got his answer.
Alphonse dropped his basket and screamed. The house was shattered, the burning remains scattered across the clearing! In the middle of it stood a huge man-shaped mass of mud and branches, the wood burning bright. The figure turned to reveal a mask-like face shaped as a skull, fire burning in its eyes. The thing saw him and cackled like a crackling bonfire before bounding away.
Alphonse rushed forward and into the broken remains of his home. "Mother! Father!" No answer. He called out for his sisters, any of them, and got the same. He looked around with fear freezing his heart. Where were they? Finally, his gaze fell on a blackened hump in the ground, one that reeked of burning meat.
Fear gripped him tighter as Alphonse ran forward and tore at the hump, fear giving him strength. He pulled to reveal his father, face burned and blackened, eyes lifeless. Alphonse shrieked in sorrow and stumbled back, falling onto the ground. No! I couldn't be! He looked farther to see his another lump. He rushed forward to find his mother sprawled across the ground, burns spread all over.
His sisters were still further. His two older sisters who had taught him everything mother and Father hadn't. His two younger sisters who had looked up to him as their big brother. All were gone, lifeless.
Alphonse ran back to the woods, thinking of nothing but escaping this carnage. He ran and ran until his legs burned and his lungs were searing. He collapsed onto the forest floor and wailed, sorrow and grief drowning everything out. He didn't know how long he stayed there, but eventually he ran out of tears. He would have passed out from exhaustion, but the image of his family kept him awake with fear.
Alphonse barely noticed a shadow over him. The monster - it had to be. "Go on," Alphonse croaked. "Do it." Nothing happened. The boy lifted his head to find nothing there. A branch creaked and he looked up to find two birds in a tree, looking down at him. Ravens? He thought.
Alphonse gasped as he cut off the memories. It had all gone downhill from there.
As Alphonse was frozen in memory, he didn't hear the soft patter of snowball feet approaching. Olaf watched as the mage wept for his family, sensing that now was not quite the time. Whatever was happening was long-since coming and it had to run its course.
Olaf sat and waited, his heart going out to Alphonse as he felt waves of the mage's grief roll over him. Many thought Olaf was not bright, even stupid, but that was far from the case. Childish, perhaps, and naive, absolutely, but also quite wise. He had been born from magic, the magic born from love, and that made him wise beyond his apparent years.
Not only that, but Olaf was not truly living, and so saw the world differently than anything else. He had a connection to Elsa, his mother, and to his aunt Anna - a spiritual link forged from the love he had been made from. He could feel what they felt, could understand their emotions and sense their presences. It was how he had found Anna locked in that study, slowly freezing from the inside out.
As Anna had slowly fallen for Kristoff, and he for her, that link had extended to him as well. The thin formative threads were how he knew without a doubt that Kristoff loved Anna, and that love had only grown and strengthened their bond. He had realized that it was his family that he could feel, their bonds of love that kept them together. It had stayed that way - until a few days ago. Olaf had felt even from a distance, the bond between them change, the thin strands of a new addition to the family.
He had followed those threads to find Alphonse.
As Olaf watched, Alphonse began to quiet down, the raw pain of grief fading to a dull ache. Olaf stood and waddled over before sitting again in front of the mage. Alphonse sat up and looked at him, his mismatched eyes hollow and dull, all signs of warmth and life drained away.
"What do you want?" he asked hoarsely with a scowl. Olaf sensed that he didn't mean to be rude, he was just exhausted and heartbroken. And confused as to why Olaf was there at all. Olaf gave a wane smile and patted Alphonse's knee.
"Why did you pull away?" he asked. Not patronizingly - he really didn't know, and he wanted to know. Olaf had sensed the pain that had raged within him, like a defense against what he had been feeling, what he had almost done. The snowman had never felt anything like it, and he was morbidly curious.
Alphonse's glare, a look that would have made monsters flee in terror, faded into quiet acceptance before Olaf's innocence. He had fought monsters and such creatures, lived in darkness for so long, that the brightness from Olaf's essence banished his anger and sorrow, leaving comforting light. If he had been more aware, he would have realized that Elsa had the same effect on him.
"It is my curse," Alphonse explained, "my sacrifice. My price for the Well." Olaf titled his head in interest, silently urging him to continue. Alphonse looked into those soulful eyes and, like with the snowman's mother, he couldn't fight the urge to tell. He began to tell his story.
Further into the mountains, a camp was set up in a crag of the peaks, the wind whipping up snow flurries and beating at the bonfire in the center, tents of animal hide surrounding it and standing resolute against the cold.
Surrounding the fire were a circle of a dozen cloaked figures, dressed in form-fitting grey dresses and staring into the flames. No one said a word, waiting for the arrival of their sister. The tentative peace was broken by two newcomers, both dressed in cloaks and one forcing the other forward.
The slimmer figure forced the larger one down and removed her hood, revealing a young woman with black hair and cold yellow-colored eyes, her skin pale as death and nails dark. "Leader," the woman greeted, referring to her superior. All of the figures removed their hoods, revealing all women with the same burning-yellow eyes. The leader, a symbol burned into her cheekbone, stood and approached.
"You found him." It was a statement, not a question. The leader had every faith in her pack. The leader looked over the form of the fool who would intrude upon their territory, shouting for her pack. She grimaced, a fierce growl emanating from her throat, and yanked back his hood.
Yellow-green eyes flicked to hers and the man grinned, or perhaps grimaced. "Hello, Hati," he said, his voice resonating with familiarity. The leader gasped and backed away. The women gathered around, all snarling defensively. The leader, Hati, waved them off and approached, wariness in every line of her body.
This redheaded man spoke her name. And his voice … it resonated within her, and the mark on her cheek twinged. The man's eyes moved up and down her body, appreciating the figure-hugging dresses they all wore. He licked his lips and grinned maliciously. That look … it, too, was achingly familiar.
"Who are you?" Hati demanded. The redhead laughed out loud, madness in the sound.
"Now, is that any way to treat your Forloper?" he asked. Hati's eyes widened and she stepped back as if burned. Forloper? Precursor? But he was … Her mark burned again and the old prophecy came to mind.
"Bound by a gamble, in magical chain
Our Father breaks free when blood and death rains
Vengeance on Grimnir, the Great Wolf will chase
And take it he will, from the king of their race
The worlds will collapse into a single plane
Free for the wolves to hunt and to reign
Shunned by the clans of men that will grow
To hunt as they always have done, on their own
But after a time, the Aesir will rise
New souls and new minds in familiar hides
Our Father's own father will come with a task
Our duty to serve any request that he'll ask
For on that great day our chance will arrive
For the dead gods to pay with all of their lives."
All pack leaders among their kind knew these verses, supplied to them by the father of their patron, their Forloper. As with wolves, all wolves, their memories were long. They had not forgotten the sins of the Aesir against their patron, their spiritual father, their Fadir, who had made their ancestors what they were.
And just like wolves, dark wolves, their thirst for vengeance still burned bright.
Hati waved off the her lieutenant and knelt before her Forloper, before the trickster Loki who had sired their Fadir, Fenrir.
"What would you have us do, Forloper?" she asked, bloodlust creeping into her otherwise reverent tone.
The redhead, both Loki and Hans, grinned in satisfaction. "There is a small kingdom, nestled between the mountains and the sea. Their symbol is the crocus, their ruler blessed by the stars with the power of winter." Hati nodded - she and her sisters were well aware of Arendelle and its queen. Their kind respected powerful women.
"Go there," Loki instructed, "and wreak havoc upon the reborn Aesir and Vanir. Thor and Freya … and Odin." All of the pack bristled at that name, snarling at the ghost-memory of their Fadir's oath-breaker.
The women all Shifted, taking on their dual form, the flip side of the coin to their human shapes. Wolves surrounded the bonfire and howled into the night. Their hunt had begun.
"Poor child," one of the ravens said, "lost and alone, his family taken by an echo of evil. So sad." Alphonse felt a shiver run up his spine at that voice, like smooth honey.
"So true," the other said, "such a tragedy. If only we had had our champion. He could have saved them." That voice was harsher, more gravelly, like the old sailors who lived in town.
The other bird nodded and looked down at Alphonse. "Better go bury your family, child. Wouldn't want the wolves to get at them."
"Not that it'll do anything worse," the other said. Both cawed and flew away. Alphonse went pale at the thought of his parents and sisters being ripped up by scavengers and took off back to the house. He made it back before anything had happened and shivered. The sun was beginning to fall toward the horizon.
Alphonse felt tears rise up again as he saw his family, but brushed them away and began looking for his father's spade. It was time to be strong, to do what needed to be done. Just like Father had always told him. He found the spade and began to dig, as much as he could with his tiny body.
As the sun reached the horizon, he had made little progress. Alphonse panted, sweat beading his brow despite the rapidly cooling air. No, he had to keep at it. Alphonse lifted the spade again, but it wouldn't come down. He looked behind him to see two old men, one holding the spade up.
"Hey there, kid," the other one said, voice scratchy with age. "Need any help?" Alphonse shook his head. It was his family, he would do what needed to be done. He looked at the one who kept a hold on the spade. The old man, with stone-grey eyes, simply looked upon him, as if waiting for something.
"There's nothing wrong with help, kid," the other one said. "I'm sure you pappy would be fine with it." Alphonse felt grief burn in the back of his throat, and the soreness of his muscles seemed to intensify. He nodded and let the spade go. The grey-eyed man passed it to the other, who had brown eyes, and sat with Alphonse.
"Vidar," the old man said. Alphonse looked at him. The old man patted his chest. "Vidar," he repeated.
"Your name?" Alphonse asked. The old man nodded.
"Two words," the other man cackled. "That's more than I've got from him in two decades." The spade kept moving, the holes growing too fast to be natural. Alphonse dozed off, drained by shock and grief and hard labor. He awoke to Vidar patting his back. The old man gestured for him to rise, the morning sun peeking out from the mountains. Had he really slept all night?
In front of the remains of the house sat six mounds of stones, wooden crosses standing behind them as markers. Vidar's friend sighed and cracked his old knuckles. "Care to say a few words, boy?" he asked.
Alphonse stood before the mounds and felt tears burn in his eyes, a sob caught in his throat. He was tired of crying, but his family deserved every tear. "I love you," he whispered, a single tear falling. "Goodbye." Alphonse collapsed onto his knees and dug his fingers into the grass, pain still fresh and lancing through his young heart.
He felt rather than saw the two old men kneel beside him. "Thank you," Alphonse said. "You didn't have to help me, but you did. Thank you."
"Well, now," Vidar's friend said, "it wouldn't've been decent to just let a little boy do that. Gotta be hard enough losin' 'em." The old man paused. "Vali, by the way," he said, "is my name." Alphonse nodded. Vali placed a hand on his shoulder, Vidar mirroring the action.
"Kid, what would you do if this was about to happen to another family?" he asked. Alphonse turned to look at him with fear. But that fear dissolved into anger. No one deserved this, especially not his family. "What if you could find the monster who did it?" he continued.
Alphonse glared at the man, rage burning in his gut. "They'd never get the chance," the boy hissed. Vali grinned.
"Good answer," his grin faded, "but you don't know what you're up against. You'd be dead in a heartbeat." Alphonse felt his anger fade away as he recognized the truth in those words. Sadness came rushing back in a crushing wave.
"But we might know someone who can fix that," Vali finished. Alphonse looked up with hope in his eyes. Vali nodded to Vidar, who scooped Alphonse up and carried him like a child in his arms. Things were going to change, and change a lot.
"Vidar and Vali, I later learned, were survivors of Ragnarok, sons of Odin. They took me to the ravens I had seen, Hugin and Munin, and began teaching me. They taught me how to fight and how to live off the land. They taught me about magic and the monsters in the world. They replaced my grief with cold determination - the will to take revenge." Alphonse sighed as he got closer to what Olaf wanted to hear.
"After about a year, Hugin and Munin said I was ready to begin the path. They told me that I was a Residuum, a reborn fragment of one of the old gods. They said that to safely reclaim my full power, to be able to find and destroy the thing that took away my family, I had to follow the path that my Remnant had done before.
"So they took me to a cave and told me about the spring inside. A well that was the remains of Mimisbrunnr, or the Well of Urd; a pool that contained all the knowledge in the world. They told me I had to drink from it and start the path. But to do that, one has to pay a price."
Olaf soaked all of this in like a sponge, thoughts whirling. "What price?" Olaf asked, though part of him had an idea.
Alphonse swallowed thickly before continuing. "Odin had paid with one of his eyes," he said. "But that wasn't for me. I chose something else; something that, up until then, had only caused me pain. I thought about my family, all the warmth and joy, and a put that as my price." A single tear fell. "I sacrificed love. I gave up my right to have love."
Olaf gasped. He couldn't imagine life without love. Really, without love he wouldn't have life. He thought this over and realized something. "So, when you tried to kiss Elsa …?"
"Fate intervened," Alphonse answered. "It reminded me of my price, reminded me that I can't take back what I did." Alphonse sighed heavily and knuckled his forehead. "Elsa deserves better than me," he whispered, unaware he had spoken aloud.
Olaf stood with a resolute look and fixed his gaze on Alphonse, who was unable to look away. "That's not true," he said. "I don't know a lot, but I know this: love is the greatest thing in the world. It's what makes life worth living. And it's the only thing worth fighting for." Alphonse looked away.
"Don't give up, Alphonse," Olaf continued. "Elsa cares about you, I know it. Just like I know you care about her." Alphonse looked to the snowman with surprise, to which he just giggled. "It's a gift," he said, and Alphonse cracked a small smile. Olaf took hold of Alphonse's hand and pulled, to which Alphonse stood up and the snowman began guiding him. "Let's go back and show Elsa how you feel."
They hadn't made it a dozen steps when Olaf gasped. In their path stood the Snow Queen, her face a mask to hide her sorrow. Marshmallow loomed behind her, looking solemn as well.
Marshmallow had wrapped Elsa up in a hug and began walking, following Olaf. His little-big brother was better at comfort than him, he would know what to do. So with a stride far too smooth for his size, Marshmallow had followed with their mother. He had slowed only when they reached hearing distance, just as Alphonse had begun his story.
Elsa had heard everything.
The Snow Queen approached, a glint of determination in her eyes. Alphonse shied away and swallowed, afraid of what she might do. He had pulled away from their kiss, he had broken her heart like glass. What would she do?
She hugged him, her cheek pressed to his chest. Alphonse hesitated before wrapping his arms around her, relaxing for the first time in hours. Elsa pulled away first and cupped his cheek with a sad smile. He leaned into the contact and placed his hand over hers.
"Let's go home," Elsa said. Alphonse nodded and released a sharp whistle. In less than a minute, Askvader was there, ready to move. Alphonse helped Elsa into the saddle before moving up himself. Elsa asked Olaf if he wanted a ride, to which the snowman declined.
"I'll stay up here a little longer," he said calmly, eyes flicking between his mother and the mage. "Say hi to Anna and Kristoff for me and Marshmallow," he added. Elsa smiled and assured that she would. She braced herself against Alphonse as he flicked the reins, and they shot off with unnatural speed.
Elsa lay her head on Alphonse's shoulder as they neared the castle. Did she have a story for Anna.
What do you guys think about Al's story? Leave a review if you like it.
For the record, my explanation for Elsa's powers is a reference to the origins planned for the movie, which were cut for time and may be explained in the upcoming sequel. Jennifer Lee explained that her powers came from an event that happens every 1,000 years that comes from an alignment of Saturn and another unspecified planet. I tried to apply that to my own unique AU. Hope this makes some kind of sense.
Love y'all, hope you like it! Stay awesome!