Chapter Sixteen: When the Levee Breaks
Hans grinned as two of the Maras charged, howling, at the royal sisters. No matter how powerful they were, he had thirteen packs of Maras behind him. The Maras, in wolf form, charged - and were flung away in an explosion of snow.
Hans looked up into the growling face of a massive golem of ice as it rose from its protective stance, its arms uncurling from around the sisters. "Wait," he commented dryly, "didn't I already kill you?" Really, that fall would have killed anything. Then again, this thing wasn't really living, just a construct of ice given sentience by Elsa's powers. Hans grimaced; he hated to admit it, but the fight with this thing, though brief, was one of the scariest moments of his life. Possibly the closest he had ever been to death.
Hans shook off his apprehension and smiled cruelly, whistling for the Maras to stand back and unsheathing his sword. He spared a glance at the dark-grey, almost black steel of the short sword, a vine-like engraving curling down the blade. Mistletoe, he thought cruelly. The weapon that had killed a god. In the grand scheme of things, this very sword had started the beginning of the End.
Modern stories told that Loki had formed an arrow of the plant itself to kill that insufferable Baldr and tricked the light-god's blind brother into killing him. Hans frowned at the distorted facts. The oldest versions, however, told of a sword named Mistilteinn that had done the deed. Hans, now Loki, grinned at the memory of possessing Hodr, Baldr's loving brother, and striking that airheaded do-gooder down with his own hands.
Hans looked up to find the golem looming above him, fury written in every line of its body. Yes, good, it remembered him. The creature roared, its eyes glowing. Plates of ice grew over its limbs like armor, spikes emerging from anything unarmored. Fang-like icicles (that seemed familiar) formed in its mouth and its fingers turned to sword-like claws. The golem, still roaring, took a swipe at Hans, who ducked into a spin and lashed out. His short sword glanced off of the monster's armor, but the damage was done.
Cracks began to form where his sword had met the monster's body. The golem backed away and seemed to focus, the cracks halting with faint blue light. Hans grinned; this thing was still vulnerable. He laughed and snapped his fingers, prompting the Maras to howl. A thick cloud of snow rose from the sound, enveloping the trickster prince and the golem.
Marshmallow tried to get his bearings, but he couldn't see. He swung blindly, hoping to get a lucky shot. No matter what, he wouldn't let this redheaded man hurt his mother again. Never again! Marshmallow took a deep breath and blew, the gust from his nonexistent lungs blowing away the lingering snow. Wait, where was the sword-man?!
Marshmallow cried out in pain that blossomed in his back. Hans grunted as he drove his sword deeper, fissures spreading from the dark blade. Marshmallow crashed forward, his body falling apart. Just as his eyes began to dim, Marshmallow coughed up a small piece of blue ice, a snowflake carved on the face. And the golem crumbled to snow.
Hans laughed out loud, victory surging in his veins. Mistletoe was a parasite, and the sword named for it, emblazoned with its likeness, was no different. It sucked away the life, the energy, of whatever it touched, leaving nothing but a dead, rotting mess behind. It rotted wood, turned stone to rubble, turned steel to rust. And it could kill gods. He had often wondered how it would affect the Snow Queen. Now was the time to find out.
Hans turned to the royal sisters. Anna had her mouth covered in horror, but Elsa … Elsa's eyes blazed with cold fury. Fires so hot that they burned cold. Deep blue ice-armor formed across her body, accentuated by an icy, faux-fur cape. The queen snapped her fingers and whirlwinds formed, coalescing into ice-wolves that snarled and snapped at their mistress's enemies.
Elsa bared her teeth, deeply-buried instincts rising up. Acting on their own, on a subconscious command from the queen, her powers formed a weapon in her hands - a deep-blue bow made of ice. On instinct, an arrow flashed into her hand. She drew back and fired in less than a heartbeat.
With unnatural reflexes, hans slashed the ice-arrow out of the air. He narrowed his eyes, considering this development. Elsa … she looked like … Hans's eyes widened in realization and he chuckled. Then he cackled. Then he laughed in mad joy, tears streaming down his face to freeze on his cheeks. This is going to be fun, he thought.
Hans snapped his fingers, readying the Maras, and charged with a primal howl. Elsa growled and waved her arm, sending off the ice-wolves. She looked to Anna, who returned a glare of pure determination. The sisters braced themselves and charged.
This would end now!
Kristoff! Kristoff, dozing in the hay of the stable, shot up in a cold sweat, a mental shout still ringing in his skull. Panic raced through his body. He didn't know how he knew, but he did. Anna was in danger! He hauled himself up and froze, registering that his name was being called.
Alphonse crashed into the stable and dragged Kristoff out, speaking far too quickly to understand. Kristoff couldn't catch much, but he heard something about werewolves and Hans and Anna and Elsa being in danger. Kristoff braced his feet and jerked away.
"What do we do?" Kristoff said, voice barely below a shout. As much as he wanted to shout and scream and panic right now, that would only waste time. Time that his wife and sister may not have. Alphonse took a breath and gripped his staff, the runes glowing with faint green light.
Alphonse tossed his staff away, the length of wood spinning end over end, before it erupted into flames. The flames, green like acid, seemed to burn away at the empty air, leaving a hole in nothingness. Alphonse grabbed Kristoff again and ran for that hole in the air, dragging them both through and ... onto the balcony of Elsa's ice palace!
The mage stumbled against the railing, gasping for air, and Kristoff glared at the battle taking place. The ice harvester's gaze locked on Anna, surrounded by large wolves that she fought off with a whip that looked like vines. Anna moved with grace that she lacked in any other time, her whip lashing out with almost a life of its own.
Kristoff whipped Mjolnir from his coat pocket, the hammer flashing into its proper size, and vaulted over the railing with a fearsome war cry.
Anna lashed out with her whip of vines, grown from seeds she had begun carrying around, and struck one of the Maras that circled her. On instinct, both her own and inherited from Freya, she whipped around and struck at a she-wolf that had lunged at her back.
The princess winced as her leg stung, a large cut flaring up. Though her magic had stopped the bleeding, as well as partially-mended her numerous other minor injuries, the wounds were still raw. As she wrapped her whip around a she-wolf and swung the creature into a group of its fellows, Anna resolved to learn as much about healing magic as she could. Ooh, maybe an enchantment that would heal her all the time, without actual thought! Would that work? She'd definitely ask.
Anna struck out again to strike a wolf and then froze at the sound of a familiar battle cry. Connected to the currents of magic, she felt thunderheads roll in, charged with lightning. And all at once, the lightning poured forth, blasting away the she-wolves that surrounded her.
Kristoff landed beside her in a burst of snow, fury written in the very way he stood. The she-wolves seemed to hesitate, some even taking a step back. Thunder rumbled and lightning flashed in the pitch-black clouds above. In spite of her injuries, Anna had to grin. Who knew Kristoff had such a dramatic flair?
Kristoff shouted and threw his hammer, which struck the ground in front of a number of she-wolves, and the ground exploded. A split-second later, one launched itself at the ice harvester, but he struck it away with apparent ease. In a crack like thunder, the hammer returned to Kristoff's hand, the head crackling with lightning. He jutted it forward and lightning burst from the head, frying the rest of the Maras.
As the wolves lay broken or smoking before them, Kristoff let out a breath and fell to his knees, his body trembling. Anna knelt beside him and placed a hand on his forehead to try and find out what was wrong. Anna sighed as she realized that he was just tired. Summoning so much lightning at a moment's notice was hard for someone not used to it.
As she began to calm down, a horrifying sound made Anna's blood run cold. That sounded like Alphonse!
Elsa hurled giant spikes of ice at Hans, freezing rage in her eyes. But no matter how many she fired off, Hans struck them down, his sword smashing them apart like glass.
A flash of cold ran up her spine and Elsa stomped the ground. A wall of ice spikes burst from the snow, impaling a pair of Maras that had tried to sneak up on her. With that brief distraction gone, Elsa lifted her arms to raise a pair of ice walls to box Hans in. The mad prince sneered and slashed at the wall to his left, cracks radiating out from that cut before the wall crumbled.
Elsa tried to breathe evenly, realizing that her temper was getting the best of her. Hans was many things, few of them good, but he was far from foolish. She needed to devise a strategy to win; one that involved more than conjuring ice spikes to throw at him.
Before Elsa could think, ominous rumbling caught her attention. She looked up to find black thunderheads rolling in, tongues of lightning crackling from inside. Kristoff, Elsa thought wryly. At least she knew now that Anna was safe. She was shocked to hear Hans cry out, the sound resonating with fury and his face as red as his hair. It would have been comical if he wasn't so dangerous.
"It's over, Hans!" Alphonse strode toward them to Elsa's right, the bodies of dead Maras scattered around him. Hans growled, his face even redder, and charged at the queen with an insane shout, sword flashing. Faster than thought, Elsa formed a spear of ice and swung upward to meet his strike. Just as he met Elsa's staff, Hans faded away into mist and his sword fell to the snow.
Before Elsa could wonder what had happened, she gasped as pain exploded in her back. "ELSA!" Alphonse shouted rushing toward them. Elsa gasped as she fell, Hans looming over her with a bloodstained dagger in his hand. "One down," he whispered. Alphonse's animalistic cry made him look up as the mage crashed into him.
Alphonse saw only red as he wrestled with Hans, pinning him against the ground with his legs. Berserker fury, one of the aspects of Odin, raged through his veins as he struck at the prince with all of his might, his fists cracking bone and splitting skin. All the while he howled like a wounded animal, fury and fear burning inside like a bonfire.
Finally, the fury left him. He panted like a dog as his hands began to ache, the knuckles cracked and bleeding. Hans face and chest were covered in blood, many of his teeth missing. And even after all of that, the prince grinned. He snapped his fingers and Alphonse was blown away by a burst of wind.
Alphonse sat up and stared as Hans stood, his skin beginning to change, to turn chalky and pale and to tear like thin paper. Hans took hold of the skin of his face and pulled, revealing only unblemished flesh beneath. His teeth were returned and his injuries gone as he removed the rest of the chalky covering, even his clothes in place.
"Serpents," Hans spat. "I have my problems with them, but they really are such fascinating creatures, yes?" Hans sneered. "Better check on Elsa. She's not looking too good." With a mocking salute, Hans Shifted into a falcon and flew away, the few remaining Maras fleeing with him.
That threat gone, Alphonse moved to Elsa. He paled at the sight of the snow dyed crimson, Elsa's stomach covered in a casing of ice to stop the bleeding. Elsa was breathing heavily, almost gasping. Alphonse took her hand in his and tried to remember anything he could about healing. He took hold of magic and searched out the wound, cringing at the feel of it. Elsa was losing blood fast, her liver punctured. Alphonse tried to weave his magic, to stop the bleeding and grow new tissue. But healing was not his strongpoint. Alphonse felt tears come to his eyes as he realized there was little he could do.
Elsa tried to smile, to reassure her new friend, though it came out more as a grimace. The sharp pain had faded to more of a throbbing ache. Frankly, she wasn't sure if that was good or bad. She squeezed Alphonse's hands, trying to draw strength from his presence.
"Elsa!" In a flash, Anna was kneeling before her, Kristoff not far behind. Anna took hold of Elsa's other hand, glowing with magic. The princess's eyes turned solid white as she sent tendrils of magic to examine her sister, trying to understand all that was wrong. Her eyes still milky-white, Anna looked down to her sister.
"This is gonna hurt," she warned, and released her magic. The energy raced through Elsa's arm and down her chest to concentrate on her lower torso. The queen bit back a groan as she felt it forcibly closing the hole in her body, stitching together the flesh and sealing it with ethereal fire. Her temperature rose, her skin burning with fever. And as quickly as it had come, Anna let it fade away.
Elsa sighed as she felt no pain. Alphonse shook off his surprise as he placed a palm on the queen's forehead to examine Anna's work. He felt a livid scar where the puncture had been, but everything had been repaired with surprising efficiency. The mage looked up to Anna and nodded grimly. As far as he could tell, Elsa would be fine. Weak for some time as she fully recovered, but she would fully recover.
As Alphonse examined Elsa, Anna removed a large piece of blue ice from her dress, something she had recovered during the mad rush over here. "Elsa?" Anna asked, showing her the carving. Elsa smiled tiredly and waved her hand, her magic swirling around the piece as it glowed with a faint light. The carving rose and was enveloped in a soft blizzard that settled into the massive shape of Marshmallow. The snow golem smiled at his mother and knelt to brush her hair with surprisingly gentle fingers.
Alphonse quirked a quick grin that was swallowed by exhaustion. He lifted his fingers to his lips and let out a piercing whistle, the sound laced with a tendril of magic. An echoing whinny answreed and green mist rose from the snow to reveal Askvader. Alphonse and Kristoff lifted Elsa, as gingerly as they could, onto the horse's back before Anna followed, then Kristoff. Alphonse simply Shifted into an eagle to follow.
Before they left, the instant before he changed, Kristoff could have sworn he saw a tear fall down Alphonse's cheek. Before he could ask why, he had Shifted and taken off. Askvader's ungodly speed snatched any further thoughts from Kristoff's mind, drowned out by sheer mortal terror.
After a good hour of flight, Hans settled in front of a large cottage that sat on an island off of Arendelle's coast. The owner had had an unfortunate "accident" (cough, cough) and Hans had taken possession of it to live in until he claimed the Castle of Arendelle.
Hans Shifted back to his human form and sighed in contentment, happy to have his magic back. It had been a close thing; Odin's Residuum had almost killed him. But all that adrenaline, plus the force of two minds hammering at the weakened, cracking binding against his power had been enough to shatter his constraints. His magic was back!
Hans, now Loki, cackled at the thought of Alphonse. Sure, the man was powerful, but he was a mockery of the raw, terrifying presence that Odin had been! Odin had been powerful, crafty, manipulative, and determined; but more than that, he had had something about him that charged obstacles in his path and tore them down, as if nothing in all of the Nine Realms could stop him. He had been fearless, his tenacity and force of will stronger than anything that the cosmos could throw at him.
Alphonse was not that. Yes, he was strong, but he was also conflicted, plagued by sorrow and self-loathing that Odin would never have tolerated in himself. The Residuum had yet to even taken up the Sacrifice, the Great Trial, yet. Whether it was fear or determination to hold onto his current self, neither Loki nor Hans could be sure. But whatever it was that held him back, Alphonse was clearly a cheap imitation of his Remnant.
All-in-all, Hans thought as he noticed the first of his Maras returning with supernatural speed, that was a good thing for them. Odin had been an unstappable force when at his weakest. The fact that Alphonse was not even close to that allowed them an advantage. Even so, Loki couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret.
It seemed his blood-brother really was gone for good, washed away in the river of time.
Back at the castle, the royal physician had given a much more thorough diagnosis of the queen and had come to the same conclusion as Alphonse: the queen would fully recover; she just needed rest. After the royal sisters thanked the kindly old man, Anna turned her attention back to Elsa.
"You had something you wanted to show me?" Elsa asked. Anna nodded, then closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she prepared to Shift. Their was the usual faint snap as the change took effect, but nothing seemed to have actually changed. At least until she opened her eyes, revealing the slit pupils and wide irises of a cat.
Elsa stifled an instinctive shriek at the feline eyes gazing at her from her sister's face. Anna laughed and screwed her eyes shut and opening them back to what they were before. "Cool, huh?" she asked, almost demanded. "I thought of it on the way to the Palace and didn't get a chance to try before-" she gestured at Elsa's torso, "-all this. And, like that, I can see in the dark!" Mischief glinted in Anna's eyes as she held up her hands.
With another snap, three inch claws sprung from her fingertips in place of her nails. Elsa actually felt quite proud that she didn't squeal again, though the sight was still just a little disturbing. "Wish I'd thought of this during the fight," Anna commented before returning her hands to normal. The princess then cycled through a small number of "partial-Shifts", from the eyes of a falcon that allowed to to see further and clearer, to the ears of a cat that enhanced her hearing. Elsa laughed at each one, her surprise melting away at her loveable sister's antics.
As the sisters bonded, neither noticed Alphonse watching them from outside the window. The mage tried to smile at the heartwarming scene before his sorrow and self-loathing returned and he led go of the sides of the window to plummet. He Shifted into a raven to settle in one of the garden's trees and returned to human form to gaze at the rising moon and consider the battle that had just occurred.
To him, it was fairly obvious what had happened: he had failed. Not only had Hans (or was it Loki now?) gotten away, but Elsa had been hurt, brought to the point of death. If it hadn't been for Anna and her raw talent for healing with magic, Elsa would have died.
Alphonse grimaced at the thought, his pragmatic nature preventing him from denying the truth. His own carelessness, his arrogance, had led to Elsa very-nearly dying. Thoughts such as 'If I had only been faster, stronger' and 'If I had sealed Hans tighter' festered in his mind. Alphonse gripped the branch he was sitting on, his knuckles turning white, as he felt rage at Hans and at himself burn within his stomach. If he had only been stronger-!
"She would have been safe," a smooth voice finished. On instinct, Alphonse lashed out at the source of the voice, startling hugin into a higher branch.
"Get out of here, Hugin!" Alphonse seethed, standing on the branch as he grasped another for balance, "I don't have time for your mind games!" The raven looked down on him and sighed, almost sympathetically.
"Maybe not," Munin answered as he settled next to his partner, "but you know it is the truth. Your beloved Snow Queen would be a cold corpse now, if not for her sister. You were outright useless tonight."
Alphonse grit his teeth at the accusation, ever fiber of his being straining to deny it, but the truth rang in Munin's words. What had he done, really? He had taken Kristoff to the North Mountain (destroying his staff in the process) and beaten a few she-wolves, but that was it. He had done next to nothing. The mage leaned back against the trunk as he felt his self-hatred rise up again.
Just like with his family, he had been useless. And Elsa had just barely avoided ending up like them. Could he do nothing right?!
As he cursed himself, hugin flutter closer, his beak in the man's ear. "You could have been stronger," he whispered. At any other time, Alphonse would have brushed both the words and the raven away. But he was far from his right mind, now, and the implications settled in. There was a way.
"Loki will only get stronger from here," Hugin pointed out. "If you wish to protect her, you know what you must do." The raven flew away into the night, leaving their ward to consider the seeds that they had planted. As the moon passed overhead and began to fall, Alphonse came to a decision. He stood and turned to face the mountains, Shifting into a eagle and taking off.
There was only one way to protect Elsa.
Sorry about the long wait, guys. Hope this makes up for it.
As always, leave a review, let me know how I'm doing and what you like/dislike. They keep me motivated.