Part II: The Wolf Pack
"Mikey!" The woman – Danika – squeals before she near shoves her way past Elsa.
Thankfully, Michael meets the woman at the threshold of the castle doors; Elsa didn't even see him move.
She does see Danika practically, of not literally, throw herself at Michael. Hard enough that when she crashes into him, a hard knob of air umphs out of him, even taking a half step back from the impact.
Still his arms wrap around her torso, hands resting just beneath her ribs as he embraces her; Danika's arms wrapping around his neck in turn, her rainbow hair spilling over his shoulders. Elsa's hands clench into fists as he hears Michael . . . chuckle?!
He lifts the woman enough that her toes barely touch the ground, his face buried in the crook of her neck. The way the silver and pastels mix with his raven-black hair sets Elsa on edge; she almost wants to pry them apart.
They finally relinquish, Michael placing the woman back on her feet and detangling himself as the man approaches. The two of them keep the greeting simple despite their wide smiles – simple gripping the others' forearms and giving heavy claps on the back. They exchange some words, mumbling to one another, the smiles remaining all the while.
Danika is near bouncing on her toes, as eager as a schoolgirl ready for candy as Michael and the man part, going in for another tackling hug. "It's so good to see you!" she exclaims.
Michael gives another chuckle. "I can't believe you're really here."
"What you didn't think we'd show up?"
Michael smirks and shrugs as he says, "Well, I didn't want to take time away from your busy days."
Danika snorts. "Please, are you kidding me? Not like we ever really has busy lives to begin with."
His expression changes in an instant. "Really? You guys never really settled down?"
"I tried," Danika says, picking at her blue painted nails. "Didn't really work for me. You know how it is – restless nights, the urge to do something."
Something like understanding does flash in Michael's eyes. It makes Elsa want to grind her teeth.
"I spend most of my nights drinking at the local taverns."
Judging from the expressions on Michael's and the man's face, it's not the answer either of them were looking for.
Then the man snaps, his voice smooth and cold – like shadow given form. "One would think you would shower in between your nightly visitors . . . or at least change the sheets."
Danika responds by sticking out her tongue. "I think it motivates them. What better way to play on their little life competition than to try and get them to out-pleasure me than the guy before." The red-eyed man rolls his eyes with disproval. "Myself, I kind of like that corn-chip smell. Although I'll tell you, human or Fae, mortal or immortal, nothing can ever really prepare a person for the bedroom, except for practice and privacy. And curiosity, depending on where you venture."
Elsa places a hand on her chest, baffled. She'd never known any woman to be so, casual, with their . . . involvements with men. At least, no one in her life.
"Sleeping around isn't exactly going to get you anywhere in life. Neither will a life of mercenary work – legal or not." The man says through grit teeth.
Danika argues, taking the verbal slap in stride. "Why bother? I meet a nice man, I marry him, we settle down, and then what? I'm left with nothing to do but cater to him and whatever children I pop out of my womb? I'm capable of so much more than that. Besides, the work is more a side benefit."
"Well, regardless," Michael says as he places a hand on her shoulder. "I'm glad you guys came, it's great to have you."
Feeling their conversations coming to a close, Elsa takes a timid step forward. She fiddles with her fingers as she approaches the trio, the red-eyed man spotting her first. He motions with a jerk of his chin, Michael turning around and finally remembering she was here. She tries not to let the sting show on her face.
He's about to say something, when Anna's voice chimes from behind them. "Guys?" she calls, "What's going on?"
Her sister stops dead when she beholds the two people standing before Elsa and Michael. She even seems to pale, the freckles of her face becoming more distinct. To her horror, Olaf is waddling behind Kristoff, babbling on about something. But he too stops dead when he beholds the guests.
Friends . . . these are Michael's friends.
Comrades, even.
In the back of her mind, she remembers him writing letters to two people, former rebel soldiers that were in the same unit as him.
Soldiers.
The word clangs through Elsa like the Yule Bell.
These people were soldiers. They've killed and robbed and fought and survived. Together.
But to see such, fierceness, in Danika, compared to the cold and contrived expression of that red-eyed male . . .
Like fire and stone . . . Like –
Suddenly Michael's arm slides to the middle of Elsa's back, and she flinches as he inches himself closer. It would seem the motion didn't go unnoticed by the two rebels' leering eyes. "I'm so sorry, I'm being rude." He gestures to her. "This is Elsa, the Queen of Arendelle, and her sister, Princess Anna of Arendelle."
This makes Elsa square her shoulders and life her chin. Again, the red-eyed male bows at the waist as Anna approaches, her face struck dumb just as Elsa at the extraordinary beauty shared between the two soldiers. Former, soldiers. Danika simply lifts a well-groomed brow, even sparing a wink at the two sisters. Elsa tries to hide her bristling.
"Behind her, is Kristoff." Michael continues, though he doesn't mention what Kristoff is to Anna. "And that is Olaf."
"Hi!" the little snowman chirps. "I like warm hugs!"
To Elsa's surprise, neither of the two former soldiers seem at all surprised by little Olaf. A first for Elsa, but then again, with all of the stories Michael has told her reeling back in her mind, she's no doubt they might've seen worse. Even more deadly.
"Well, nice to meet you." Danika says with a wolf's smile, extending out her hand. Indeed her nails come to points at the end, looking more like claws. The sun shines off of the black ink of her tattoos.
"Are you one of Michael's friends?" Olaf asks as he shakes her hand.
"I don't know," Danika hums, dragging those stunning citrine eyes back to Michael. "are we?"
Michael chuckles again, his hand solid against her back, but Elsa shifts as it starts to burn. Not in the sense of heated flames . . . but the burning of cold. Of heat suddenly retracted from its source. Snuffed out. Guttered.
"It took you five years of fighting and four more of life adaptation to finally call us friends?" Danika continues, taking cornering steps towards Michael with her hands on her hips. The red-eyed man seems inclined to agree with that conspirator's grin on his lips. "What, did you finally go to a confessional and they rung you dry through their bible thumping phrases of honesty?"
Michael snorts. "Please, like I'd ever go to a church. And you and I both know I could handle torture pretty well."
Danika arcs a brow. "Maybe of the traditional sense."
With a roll of his eyes Michael looks to Elsa and her sister. "Guys, these are my friends," he drawls, making sure to look to Danika for her approval. "and former brother and sister in combat. My comrades, Danika, and Caiden."
He finally points to the red-eyed male, who dips his chin. His features have been schooled into neutrality – bored, if not mildly irritated at the late introduction.
His crimson eyes are unlike anything she's ever seen; a glimpse into the creature that she knew in her bones – in her magic – isn't human. Or hasn't been born that way.
The crimson in Caiden's eyes seems to swirl like smoke under stained-glass.
Even with the demonstration of power she's seen with Michael, he feels like a wisp of candleflame compared to the power thrumming from Caiden.
She could've sworn a wisp of shadow curled around Caiden's ear.
"These are the friends you talked about. The ones you mailed those letters to." Kristoff says as he approaches.
"Yeah." Michael says with a nod.
Kristoff looks to both of them in amazement; enough so that Elsa wanted to slap him across the face; but judging from the way Anna's knuckles are turning white, she'll handle that herself. Then the thought occurs to Elsa –
"Do you both really have magic?" she suddenly asks. Even Michael peers down at her. She didn't even notice him scoot close enough that their hips are touching.
Danika's citrine cat eyes flick to Michael. They seem to gleam with mischief as she folds her arms. "So you have been talking about us."
"Well, you come with so little good impressions I had to think of something." Michael clarifies. Danika sticks her tongue out at him again, folding her arms in a childlike pout.
"Do you?" Kristoff urges. "Michael said you were both magic wielders."
"Kristoff!" Anna snaps at him. "That's rude. They've only just got here."
"It's fine." Danika says with a wave of blue painted nails and an award-winning smile of white teeth.
Elsa then whispers with stomach-dropping surprise. "You're the shapeshifter."
Her stomach drops slightly as those cat-like eyes flick to her. Another wolfish smile. "I'm always eager to show off."
Elsa thought she saw Michael and Caiden roll their eyes in unison.
Then Caiden says, "Danika also excels at pissing everyone off. Especially amongst our friends. So, as a friend of Michael . . . good luck."
A friend of Michael – not his girlfriend, not his lover, not Snow Queen or even Queen of Arendelle. What does that make them?
Danika takes a few sauntering steps towards the middle of the courtyard, a sultry swing in her hips that Elsa almost admires. Her legs seem so powerful, each step lined with restrained, primal power.
She stops close to the epicenter, turning on her heels, sending her curtain of pastel waves flaring like a dancer's skirt.
A soft flash of light, a ripple of color, and a hawk is flapping midair, beating for the nearest place to land. She settles on one of the spires of Elsa's ice decorations covering the castle, clicking her beak. Both she and Anna and Kristoff and Olaf scan the clean cobblestones of the courtyard.
No sign of her clothes, her weapons. It had taken barely more than a few heartbeats.
All of them share expressions and sounds of awe, Olaf actually feeling around the stones as if he could find her clothes.
It was—incredible. Incredible to see the shift.
She gives a battle cry and swoops, talons slashing for Caiden's eyes. He swipes with his muscled arm, his expression annoyed as he clicks his tongue. Danika banks with those red-feathered wings, making a large loop before plummeting back down towards the center of the courtyard.
Another ripple of light, the opalescent silhouette growing tall and lean, but when the light fades, it isn't the rainbow-haired woman. Instead, it's –
Elsa's throat tightens. Anna gasps from behind her, along with more breaths of awe from Olaf and Kristoff.
Elsa had never noted her own features before, but . . . there they were. Her mouth gapes as she stares at her reflection – stares at herself.
"Wait, am I dreaming right now, or do I see two Elsa's in font of me?" says Olaf.
Danika had shifted into her. From the blonde of her braid, right down to the ice sequin of her cobalt gown, safe for the generous curves of her hips and breasts. Those belonged to Danika.
But her face – it is her face. Danika had noted everything – the eyes, the clothes, the facial features . . .
Were it not for the shifter's tattoo's, Elsa doesn't think anyone would know the difference. Including Michael.
It terrifies Elsa.
As if to taunt her, Danika turns in a circle with her arms spread. "What do you think, Queeny?"
Michael leans close to her and says, "Shifters were always feared and mistrusted. They were known as spies and thieves and assassins; able to demand any price for their services. The bane of courts across the world, so feared they had been hunted nearly to extinction."
Danika only continues to hold that smile as she struts towards the group once more. Another flash of that light and the shifter's features return to her own. Only this time her hair spills forth in a wash of blue fading into a fuchsia pink at the tips.
"Does it take a lot of effort?" Anna asks, sidling up to Elsa's left. Michael still on her right, his hand still around her waist.
Danika shrugs. "Not anymore. Depending on who or what I shift into depends on how much of my power is drained."
"Drained?" Anna asks.
"Remember the 'well' I mentioned for magic wielders?" Michael says, only more directed at Elsa. "That's what she means. The larger and more complex the creature, the more magic they need to build up the mass required for the forms. Turning into a horse can cost more than turning into a bird."
"But being an ass costs nothing for Danika, at least." Caiden interjects. Danika throws him a sharp grin.
"Where do your clothes go?" Olaf asks.
"Between, somewhere. I don't particularly care."
"Shifters could become any variety of human or Fae as well as animals and beasts." Michael continues. "Some shape-shifters are only able to change their human form rather than change into animals. Some are powerful enough to change into creatures long since extinct. Most shifters powers aren't that strong – the more notable ones being that of Fae, but Danika had been an exception."
Elsa blinks, ignoring the way Danika tosses her hair with a barbed giggle. The queen turns her attention to Caiden. "What about you, Caiden?"
The man folds his lips in, contemplating the right words. "My abilities are more, unique, Your Majesty; even for magic."
"And even more rare." Michael adds.
"To put it simply, my powers help me in the art of stealth and spying. I was raised in darkness and trained to blend into any sliver of darkness and listen."
"Sounds a little gloomy." Olaf says with a growing frown.
"Yeah, and his only show of humor was when he snuck up on members of the camp and frightened them for fun." Danika bites, as if a lot of those scares had been directed at her.
"Are you able to show us?" Anna asks, a little spark of interest in her eyes.
"So much for not being rude." Kristoff mumbles, earning him a mixture between a glare and a pout.
Caiden sighs through his nose, bringing up his open palm. Everyone looks at it, then to him. He gives a small smile. He's not as used to boasting as Danika, or perhaps maybe he's just more modest.
When they look back to his hand, they gape in awe as they watch thin strands of shadow twirl and curl around Caiden's palm. Completely out of thin air, the shadows crawl up his arm like living vines, his skin tone darkening under their blanket.
"The shadows cling to me. I travel in between them." he mumbles.
Once the shadows reach his hair, it's like they melt together. No – more like the shadows swallow the golden sheen, leaving only the blood-red of his eyes.
Elsa can't imagine how unnerving that must've been for some unfortunate enemy soldiers to stumble upon.
Then just as fast, they vanish. His pale skin returning, seemingly brighter now. As though he sucked the power back within himself.
Incredible.
"Caiden is a rare breed of magic wielders. One not too often seen." Michael says, finally dropping his arm from Elsa's waist. She tries not to shiver in the cold of its absence. "And one that's especially appreciated when on your side."
Anna takes a single step closer, both Elsa and Kristoff reaching their hands out to stop her. Her eyes linger on Caiden . . . on the red of his eyes, and the delicately pointed ears that barely peak through his hair.
"What – are you?" her sister nearly whispers.
"Anna." Elsa scolds, glaring at her sister. Michael almost inclined to do the same.
"That would be a story for another time, if I may be so bold, Your Highness." Anna blinks, taking a timid step back with a small dip of her chin. "But to ease your curiosity – if only by slight – I am what people call, a cambion."
Cambion. Where has Elsa heard that word before?
But Anna blatantly asks, "What's that?"
Caiden chuckles, a deep rumble that rattles Elsa's bones. She'd been trying to ignore the way her own ice magic seems to run and hide at the presence of Caiden. While Danika is ferocious, something about Caiden – the piece he's not telling them – has Elsa's instincts and her magic roaring to run. To hide.
He's dangerous.
Dangerous in the expected ways: tall, muscled, skilled in weaponry and war. But he's dangerous for another reason entirely.
Not the handsome face, but those eyes . . . They have a way of assessing everything and everyone.
He tells Anna, "Brush up on your history and we'll talk. Until then, my abilities have men known as a Shadow Weaver."
Shadow Weaver. Yes—the title, whatever it means, seems to fit.
"Shadow Weavers," Michael says, "are rare. Unlike shape-shifters – if not the exact opposite – they were coveted by courts and territories across the world for their stealth and enhanced senses; able to hear and feel things others can't."
"I've never heard of such a thing." Says Anna.
Danika suddenly nudges Caiden out of the way, the man's arms flaring slightly as he balances himself. Suddenly she is mere inches away from Elsa. The shifter places her hands on her hips and leans forward. "How the hell were you able to freeze and entire kingdom when you look so thin your bones could snap at any moment?"
Well, that's not something she ever expected to hear, not as queen.
She meets Danika's gaze, if only because she's been grinding her teeth so hard they're probably worn. And maybe it makes her as mean as an adder, but she says, "How the hell did you manage to survive this long without anyone killing you?"
Danika tips back her head and laughs, a full, rich sound that bounces off the stones and wood of the castle. Michael's brows flick up with approval; Caiden nodding in silent agreement as the shadows seem to wrap tighter around him. As if he were the dark hive from which they flew and returned.
Elsa tries not to shudder and faces Michael, hoping for an explanation about Caiden's dark gifts. A wisp of shadow curls around Caiden's ear, and his eyes snap to Elsa's. She schools her face into bland innocence.
"So what's the reason they're here?" Anna asks, and Elsa could've hugged her sister for the change of topic.
Michael looks to the sisters, near stepping in front of the sisters. Almost blocking them from Caiden and Danika. "They're knowledge of magic far exceeds mine. And with this new discovery of mine –"
"Which we are going to have a very long discussion about." Danika interrupts.
Surprise sparks through Elsa, setting her lips moving. "You mean you never knew?"
When Danika's features immediately become serious, it chills Elsa to her core. The shifter simply shakes her head. Something levels in her citrine stare – a gravity Elsa's only known to be in the eyes of commanders.
Suddenly the thought of her being an elite soldier doesn't seem to far out of reach.
"– I figured having them here would be beneficial. Not just for their knowledge and understanding of magic, but as extra security around the castle," he looks to Elsa. When his expression shifts to worry, Elsa realizes she's folded her arms, no doubt some kind of scowl on her face. "Not that they have to stay here. I understand if you don't have room, or anything –"
"No." Elsa suddenly blurts. "N-No, it's fine. They can stay. We have plenty of room. It would be ridiculous not to have them. Especially with the long travel they've had."
He steps closer to Elsa, lowering his voice. "Are you sure about this?"
Elsa shrugs, trying her best to appear coy. "Why not? They're your friends." She forces herself to straighten, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin. Her spine feeling solid as steel. She peers around him, directing towards Danika and Caiden. "The style might be a little more rustic than what you're used to . . ."
Danika snorts. "Are you kidding? We slept on hay cots lined with stiff animal pelts for the better part of our years. You give us a warm fire and soft mattress and you won't even know we're there! And it'll be the first time we're allowed into a castle of . . . any kind."
Caiden's cold face yields nothing. Silence falls between the three warriors. The tension and simmering anger of a unit who had endured so much, survived so much . . . and felt each other's pain keenly.
Elsa straightens, taking the first step back into the castle. Slowly, like an ebbing wave, the group begins to follow. "Kai, our steward will show you to your rooms. You two must be hungry after such a long travel; lunch will be served at noon. We'll send some servants to escort you."
Without another word, she turns and heads inside, arms hugging herself as she goes . . . anywhere. Anywhere else but here.
She doesn't look back to see if Michael follows.