Michael did his best to clean himself up. Unlike Elsa, he didn't even shower when Danika and Caiden arrived. Given she found him in the middle of a training exercise with some of her words being two mysterious people were at the front gates, Michael grabbed only a small handful of daggers – which he expertly concealed beneath his attire – before near sprinting down the steps to meet Elsa at the gates. He's relieved yet strangely surprised neither the queen, nor Danika had said anything about his smell. Especially with the latter having enhanced senses.

It only made him double the amount of soap he used to scrub his skin and his scalp near pink. There was only so much he could do with his hair; a good brushing beyond towel drying it. He did, however, pick a nice silver colored tunic, tucking it into charcoal pants and boots. The grey color reminds him of that lovely gown Elsa wore at the suitor's ball.

Oh gods, how is he going to tell her about his new idea?

She knows better than to stop him; likely she won't, but it's more about whether or not she'll try to invite herself to come along. After what she'd said, after what they did in that office, going alone with Danika might grind her nerves. Enough so she night just blurt out about the two of them right at the table.

Which does raise the next question of what they are.

As Michael finishes adjusting his attire and doing his best with his hair, he sits down on the edge of his bed – lunch being in half an hour.

They are definitely courting one another, and yet it doesn't really seem like their together. There's still a certain kind of friendship between them; of course, that could just be because he still hasn't fully processed that he's kissed the Queen of Arendelle – twice.

The word clangs through him, a heavy reminder of where these choices could lead.

Queen.

She is a queen.

And while it would be a tremendous story – a lonely peasant mercenary finding love in royalty – is he really ready to accept that kind of responsibility? That kind of title?

The idea makes his stomach tighten.

During his time in the rebellion, he never really thought much about being a leader. Then again he never really thought much about anything other than killing the king who slaughtered his family.

True he was assigned as a high-ranked soldier; true he was paired with Danika and Caiden in a small elite team, but fighting alongside them, each of their roles were defined. They never really needed to talk.

And when he looks deep into his heart, past the grief-stricken boy and through the layered darkness stained with blood, he's afraid at the truth he finds.

He never desired being a leader. Never cared for it.

Doesn't really want it.

Would the people of Arendelle even accept him?

This is a conversation to be had with Kristoff. If Arendelle's citizens are accepting of a princess courting an Ice Harvester, perhaps a rebel soldier might not be so bad.

Kristoff must be aware of the bearing weight of the crown. How it will rest upon his shoulders – true it won't be for a matter of years, but still. He seemed more than accepting of its responsibility, as was Anna when they agreed to court.

Michael sighs as he gets to his feet and heads for the door. Perhaps he can have the conversation with Kristoff in private; at least, once it's made clear what it is he and Elsa really share.

As he opens the door, he startles a young servant woman who looked like she was about to knock. She squeaks like a mouse, jumping back a step as she beholds him. Michael raising his brows in surprise in response.

She places a hand on her chest. "Oh, forgive me, Sir Michael. But I was sent to retrieve you for lunch."

Michael nods his head as he steps out of his room. "Thank you."

As he shuts the door behind him, the servant woman nods her head, a slight bow of sorts, before taking her leave. He half expected her to guide him towards the dining room, but instead continues down her original path in the hallway.

Somehow, he finds himself wondering what Danika and Caiden will wear to the lunch. He'd been lucky enough that the castle tailor crafted him plenty of shirts and pants ahead of time – courtesy of Kai as the steward had planned on hiring him months in advance. Though he contemplated giving the tailor their measurements, he wasn't even really sure if they would've responded. Let alone show up armed to the teeth.

And beyond the embarrassment of Danika raiding the royal closet, Caiden might not think twice when considering wearing his armor to dinner. Michael groans in the anticipated annoyance. Or perhaps both of them actually thought ahead and packed their things accordingly.

One can only hope.

The smell of the feast wafts into his nose as he descends the stairs. The dining room is off to the left, the doors having been propped open, so the smell only grows stronger as he reaches the end of the stairs. He finds Danika and Caiden standing outside; waiting for him, if the shifter's smile was any indication.

Dressed in a slimming gown of darkest plum, there's no jewelry to be seen, her hair swept up and unadorned as well. Though, with her stunning beauty and the multiple colors in her hair, she needs no ornamentation.

And it would seem Caiden took it upon himself to visit the royal tailor. And Michael had to give the man credit: he managed to scrape together a simple but elegant attire for the shadow weaver within the small amount of hours.

Caiden wears a formfitting black jacket that shows off those powerful shoulders, the silver accents that offset his hair, the beauty and elegance of the clothes make an enthralling compliment to his eyes.

"You look good." Michael says as he meets them at the bottom of the stairs. "It really brings out your eyes." Caiden doesn't say anything, simply an incline of his chin in greeting. "But you know it's nothing too formal. It's just us."

"I don't do anything half-assed." Danika says as she smooths her hands over her hips, her smile near serpentine.

Caiden inclines his head in agreement. Michael rolls his eyes as he motions them into the dining room. Peering inside, he's surprised to see they're the first ones to arrive. However, the table is already set. The feast before him covers every inch of the table. The billowing steam intermingle with one another, various birds and fish sprawled on platters of porcelain. Drizzled in sauces of spice and cheese and vinegar, the seasonings give color to look like a master painter's art. The chandelier above them is fashioned in swirls of stars. A roaring fireplace sits on one side of the table, but Michael can feel its warmth.

Danika hums as she plops into a chair near the end of the table and pours herself a glass of wine. Caiden takes a seat across from her, wiggling his fingers for the wine bottle. Michael pinches the bridge of his nose as he sighs with displeasure. He runs his fingers through his hair as he decides his seat. Sitting next to Caiden's left is the safest bet, leaving the third open for Elsa, and maybe Kristoff would be a decent buffer between Anna and Danika.

No more than a minute after he's claimed his seat, the trio's heads turn as they hear Olaf's giggle from down the hall. He manages to narrow in on the two muffled footsteps, the sisters appearing in the doorway with Kristoff in tow.

Anna has wrapped her hair up in a knot at the crown of her head, her dress a lovely opaque teal cinched at the waist by a gold band at her waist. The hemline of the skirt is embroidered with prints of silver and purple, cut just above her ankles, draping longer behind her in a small train.

She spares everyone a timid wave and a forced smile as she rounds to find her spot at the table. As if she were the guest in her own castle. Olaf waddles behind her, Kristoff bringing up the rear. Elsa steps aside to let the trio go ahead, her hands folded at her front, her back straight as a steel rod.

Michael blinks when their eyes meet, a small smile playing on his lips. She looked ravishing in this new dress. Having changed out of the cobalt blue, she now wears a pale color that is a frustratingly perfect mix of periwinkle and lilac. The colors so close that different angles change which is more prominent.

It clings to every curve and hollow before draping to the floor and pooling like liquid starlight. The long sleeves are tight, coming to points like all her others. The neckline grazes her collarbones, her skin like ivory. Her hair has been swept off her face with two combs of silver and diamond, then left to drape down her back. He's seen her with her hair down before, but somehow this style seems so much more enchanting.

So much so that he has to bite his tongue and grip his chair to keep from standing and planting a kiss on those coral painted lips.

With the burning weight of his attention on her, she continues towards her seat, exposing the back – or rather her own back, since the fabric of the dress dips so low to reveal the twin indentations in her lower back. And that she isn't wearing a corset underneath, either.

Her skin has a soft glow, and he can't fight the dryness of his throat when he sees those little dimples. Placed as if a god had pressed his fingers into her skin.

She looks over her shoulder in time to see his eyes slide south . . . and linger.

Slowly, his gaze lifts to hers. And he could've sworn that hunger – ravenous hunger – flickers within. He can't stop staring.

Caiden bows to the queen, if only because no one else bothered to stand upon her arrival. Danika follows after, but only after Caiden delivers a swift kick to the woman's shin. Despite her years of training, she can't hide the grimace, and Michael can't hide his fiendish smile.

To his surprise but immense pleasure, she takes the seat next to him; and as expected, Kristoff sits next to Danika, and Anna next to him.

At the head of the table, giggling with that never ending joy, is little Olaf.

And Michael could've hugged the snowman for starting a conversation. "Oh, it is so nice to finally have some company! The castle has never felt this full before!" he says as he folds his hands in front, swaying from side to side.

Anna nods in agreement. "It does feel nice to have a full table." Despite the softened tone, she looks between Danika and Caiden. "We don't host many guests that often."

Danika gives a wave of her hand, having already picked up her fork. She first aims for the plate of chicken. "We don't get invited to many dinners. Believe me, the honor is all ours."

Caiden at least looks to Elsa for unspoken permission, and after a dip of her chin, he too begins filling his plate full, starting the train of dishes floating about the table; passing wine, gravy boats, new plates, and seasonings.

Elsa quietly joins them; her smile seemingly genuine despite having said no words so far. So as she passes Michael a plate of lamb, he places his hand on her thigh. To the queen's credit, she hides her flinch, but her lips still fold in.

"You look incredible." he says quietly, his voice steady.

"Thank you. You look . . . handsome, as well." she stumbles. He spares her a smile. He also gives a comforting rub on her thigh, gently grasping her knee when her attention flicks to Danika – and he saw something gutter in the queen's stunning eyes.

Across from him, Kristoff seemed to note the look too as she leans out and says, "You guys clean up well."

A cocoon of silence seems to pulse around Caiden, even as the others dug into their food. Danika spares a nod, lifting her glass of wine towards the Ice Master. "It's not too often we get to dress up."

She then lifts her brows at Caiden's plate, which is already half empty. "I've got to say, I'm impressed. You've really improved since we first met, Caiden." She unceremoniously jabs her fork into a piece of chicken on his plate before stuffing it into her mouth before he can protest.

He huffs through his nose. "Wish I could say the same for you. You haven't changed much since camp."

This draws a small giggle from the sisters, Olaf examining a plate of carrots.

In retaliation, Danika opens her mouth, sticking out her tongue exposing a disgusting mound of chewed up chicken and mashed potatoes. The shadow weaver cringes, as does Michael.

"You are disgusting." He says as he pops a spoonful of grilled squash into his mouth. "Would it kill you to act more like a lady?"

"I can act like a lady whenever I please." Danika says with a pleased hopping of her shoulders.

"You mean whenever it benefits you."

"You don't—eat?" Elsa says to Caiden. Her first words to his companions since sitting.

Caiden's teeth are unnervingly white. "I didn't, in my early years. I had an . . . acquired taste."

Elsa seems to quickly decide she doesn't want to know what Caiden used to eat.

Anna on the other hand –

"I apologize for my curiosity, but I'd like to ask you again about who you are." Anna suddenly interjects.

Michael chokes on his wine, and Danika's fork clacks against her plate.

The shifter pinches the bridge of her nose. "Gods damn me, can we not?"

Color blooms on Anna's cheeks, but the princess doesn't back down. Even as Caiden gives a rather cold laugh.

"As I've said before, I am what most know as a cambion."

Anna nods. "I've heard of that word, but I didn't think it was true. It almost seems, impossible."

Another cold, joyless laugh. "I'm afraid so."

Silence falls. None of them, even Danika, looks at Caiden. Michael can practically feel Elsa's blood drain from her face.

"Wha-What is that?" Kristoff asks with quiet hesitance.

A flicker of eyes between the three soldiers, and Caiden says, "It's the most common term used to describe half-breed demons."

Michael pities the Ice Master as he, too, pales, leaning back in his chair, away from Caiden.

"How is that possible?" Anna asks. Apparently, curiosity outweighs her fear.

Danika is staring hard at her plate, as if she might burst out of her skin.

Caiden gives a too-nonchalant shrug. "I suppose it starts with my mother. She was young, rebellious, and gullible." As he picks his fork and pokes at a lone asparagus, he grumbles. "Of course she'd wind up in a cult. Anyway, the group had been hired by the king to experiment in breeding powerful soldiers with no limits, no care, and no conscience. I don't remember much when I was younger, but I do remember the sounds. Moans of pain, of terror, of despair. A door gouged with what looked like claw marks, pushing out from within."

They all went still.

"And my mother – with her great powers in judgement, and low-class status – didn't hesitate to volunteer for such atrocities. The process required a type of . . . implantation upon the women. Virgins, preferred, but never required. They had them chained to tables. Altars. And there was sobbing. They were begging to be let go. But they were . . . they were so close to giving birth. And apparently there were no limits."

"What?" Elsa breathes. Anna looks ready to vomit.

"Caiden –" Danika softly warns.

But the shadow weaver continues, his eyes beginning to glow more and more from within. "From what I remember, there were . . . many women, and they'd delivered at least one baby each. And were already about to give birth to another."

"That's impossible," Elsa whispers.

He looks to her with calculating ire in his crimson eyes—which once already made his enemies start begging for mercy. "Nothing is impossible with dark magic. My mother didn't survive long after having me; her first, and only child. According the king's Court Mage, I was different. My magic was stronger than anyone realized. I don't remember much about what I was – or am – beneath this skin; but I remember scales like black diamond, and a snout with teeth. Fangs. I grew up to be their strongest soldier, assigned as the kings' personal assassin – my magic and skill in stealth unmatched. I could hardly bare the horrible things I'd seen within the stones of that castle."

The light had winked out of Anna's eyes.

"As expected, or perhaps not, the process used to create us has its effects. We don't age; at least not as quickly as humans do, though not as slow as a pureblooded demon. And even then, there are those who don't even inherit such longevity."

Silence falls again. And to everyone's surprise, it is Olaf who asks. "So you're immortal?"

The question resonates with everyone at the table, the sisters balking, Kristoff lifting his brows. No doubt with having troll as parents, the idea of immortality wasn't as shocking.

Still, Caiden nods to the little snowman, who responds, "Wow, so you'll always look this good?"

This manages to shatter the suffocating silence as everyone at the table smiles.

"Standard blessing and curse." Caiden amuses. "I'm barely entering the stages of my immortal life. Nothing more than a newborn lamb in comparison to some."

The cambion soldiers had become a notorious group in the king's army. They had taken the name of The King's Shadows – their stealth and silence unmatched. Like Caiden, many were trained to hide in the thinnest sliver of darkness, making them perfect as assassins and spies. Butchers. And each had those distinct and recognizable crimson eyes – a permanent marking of their heritage, one they could never hide in their entire immortal existence.

Many men and women took one look at those eyes, and it was either the last thing they ever saw, or, if they somehow managed to escape, they would always constantly be haunted: paranoid of seeing those eyes in the shadows of their home.

When Caiden first came to their camp, even when escorted by Michael, many soldiers and workers hissed and cowered at his presence, tracing symbols in the air to ward of the evil.

Elsa's voice is a bit raw as she asks, "You weren't on the same side to start? Then, how did you meet?"

Beneath the table, Michael places his hand on her thigh again – as a thank you, and as comfort.

Caiden merely turns to Danika, who is staring at Michael with guilt and love on her face, so deep and agonized that some instinct had Michael almost reaching across the table to grip her hand.

But Michael processes what Elsa had asked and his friend's silent request that he tell the story instead, and a grin ghosts across his face. "I showed him my big, beautiful blue eyes, and he simply followed me into the rebel camp."

"Well not how I'd put it, but – sure, more or less." Caiden says with a snort.

Michael look to Elsa, his hand still on her thigh, if lifted a bit higher. "Well, I had been assigned to stake out an underground dealing – rumors stating the king was buying illegal weapons and magical items of the sorts – and as I'm spying from the shadows, this one" – Michael notions towards Caiden with a jerk of his head – "suddenly whispers in my ear. It might've been something clever, I don't fully remember. We scuffled for a while, broke each other's weapons, and finally fell to the ground exhausted."

"A stalemate?" Kristoff asks with lifted brows.

Both Michael and Caiden nod, the latter saying, "Indeed. After a few minutes, he looked me dead in the eye and asked me if I wanted to join the rebellion. Just like that, no apologies."

"That was big of you to accept. What made you change your mind?" Elsa asks.

"It wasn't something right away, believe me; I'd spent the next month thinking about it."

"Did you guys ever meet again?" Anna asks, finally resuming her meal, some color having flushed back to her face.

The two rebels chuckle. Michael takes a forkful of chicken. "When it wasn't on a killing field, or happening upon each other in an ambush, no."

Elsa looks to the shadow weaver perplexed. "It seems like it didn't take you much convincing."

"Something told me I wouldn't regret it. Besides, I'd seen the way the king treated his men – his own soldiers. He didn't see us as people, just pawns in his little game of tyranny. But, there was something else about Michael's invitation that had me balking."

Caiden seems to revel in the silence as he takes a couple of spoonfuls of mashed potatoes, and carefully pats the corners of his mouth with his napkin. When he next speaks, he looks to Michael.

"When he looked me in the eye, he had no fear. Just, such focus and determination. And for once, I wasn't looking at someone who respected me out of fear; whether by my rank, or my power, or even by who I was. And it felt like he was looking at me as a person, even if my skills were a big part of it."

"Aw, you're making me blush." Michael teases, and a swift kick to his leg has him biting his lip. Still the notion didn't go unnoticed by Elsa or Danika – the two women sharing a fiendish grin.

"True we each had our own trauma, but Michael saw who and what I was . . . and wasn't afraid. It was like he saw me for the person I am – the other half of the blood that I share. He somehow saw I could be more than just the weapon I was created to be."

"That's really sweet." Anna mutters, and Michael knows she's staring at him; hence why he keeps his focus on his plate.

"I'll tell you, I wouldn't want to cross blades with him again." Caiden gestures to Michael with his fork before stabbing his fork into his asparagus.

Michael flicks his eyes up to the shadow weaver and spares a playful wink. A shift in Elsa's leg has their knees pressing together, and him snapping his attention to her. But he comes to find her eyes staring at Danika as the shifter ungraciously picks her teeth with her fork.

"What about you?" the queen asks.

A slow blink, then Danika's bares her teeth in feral amusement, and takes a drink of her wine. What is that her third glass? "My story isn't as dreadful or horrid, but it's a story."

"If you don't care to share –"

A wave of those blue painted nails. "I've bared myself for many people in my life, Queeny – most of them far worse than you and your sister."

Danika sets her fork on her plate before resting her elbows on the table and folding her fingers together.

"My mother was a heavily religious woman. She was part of the minority that didn't really favor magic. She had claimed that magic was an affront to our gods and goddesses — that to wield it was to impertinently imitate their powers. So, I could only assume I gained the ability from my father. I was told he left shortly after I was born. I've always had a feeling that I was different. But I didn't realize until I hit adolescence, hormones and all. And one day, I made the mistake of shifting into dormouse when my mother scared me one afternoon. When I shifted back, she beat me and threw me out only seconds later."

They fell quiet again, Elsa's gaze now considering.

"I sat on the doorstep for days crying and begging her to let me back in, promising to be good and that it would never happen again. She opened the door, kicked me down to the street curb and slammed the door while disowning me. I wandered the streets for a while, practicing my shifting in private, whenever I could manage, stealing things as both animals and humans. I soon learned if I made myself more beautiful – if I had made myself as stunning as an immortal – I would earn a better living than just rootling through the garbage. It soon got me picked up by one of the brothel madams. And at least I had roof over my head, a warm bed, and three-square meals a day."

Forks clink to their plates, Kristoff choking on his water. Olaf too oblivious playing with his broccoli to notice. Elsa's eyes widen, and Michael can feel the change in the queen's breathing.

"So wait, this face," Kristoff says quietly, "isn't your real face? Your real body?"

"Kristoff." Anna snaps.

Danika's voice grows quiet, and hitches in a way that hits Michael like a stone to the gut. "No. And what kills me is that I can't remember what my real face looks like. I remember being as plain as wheat, and I would gather different features from different women around the kingdom and the brothel. But . . . I don't remember if my eyes were brown, or blue or green; I can't remember the shape of my nose, or my jaw. And it was a child's body, too. I don't know what I'd look like now, as a woman."

"How long did you work at the brothel?" Elsa asks, poking her baked salmon with her fork.

"Too long. So when I heard about the rebel group, I left the first chance I got."

"They never found you?" asks Kristoff.

Danika snorts, but gives a deadly grin. "No. I was able to keep my shifting powers hidden. Most of my clients thought that I wore wigs when I changed my hair. The only thing I could really play around with."

"So, how did you the three of you meet in the army? Michael told me you were all assigned into an elite group." Elsa says as she folds her hands in her lap.

"Yeah. We all hated each other at first." Danika chuckles, sparing a small smile.

Caiden nods in agreement. "We each worked our way through the ranks, and when we were assigned together, we weren't exactly a well working machine. We could barely choose a leader."

"I still blame that on the commander. Leaving the decision to us. Who leaves three teenagers to decide who gets to lead?" Danika pouts as leans back into her chair.

Elsa looks to Michael with a puzzled expression. "You weren't the leader?"

"Flattering," he says with a gentle smile. "but no. I never saw myself fit for command."

She turns to Caiden. "What about you? Didn't you lead a group of the king's men, you said?"

"I did have the most experience, but perhaps that it what left me unprepared. When fighting alongside the king's men, our roles here, defined. But these two were different. I was too raw, and untrusting. Danika, too rash and impulsive. Michael carried too much hate."

Michael ignores Elsa's glance, forcing himself to keep his eyes on the shadow weaver. She knew enough about his story, about his loss. Let her piece the puzzle together.

"We were barely given any time to get to know each other," Caiden continues. "the commander threw us together on a trial basis. We settled upon the leadership depending on the area of knowledge. Sometimes Michael would lead, others, I would. And so on."

"Impressive, you managed to be a team without an official leader." Says Kristoff.

"What's your story, then?" Danika says to neither on one of the sisters in particular with a jerk of her chin.

When both look to Michael, he simply shrugs. They assumed he told them everything.

"It wasn't my place." Is all he says.

Elsa is the one who straightens. "I was born with magical powers. Anna doesn't have any. Growing up, things were fine until an accident with Anna had me growing to fear them; as well as Anna's memories of my magic being removed. Throughout the years, I shut myself off from her, fearing my powers for the longest time. And then . . ." her voice hitches, and when she looks down at her near-finished plate, hands hidden beneath the table, Michael can feel her fingers lace with his. "And then our parents' went out on a trip, their ship went down in the Southern Sea six years ago. When I came of age, I was crowned queen, but a series of events exposed my powers and I fled, casting the kingdom in an eternal winter."

Danika gives a low whistle, but despite glares from both Michael and Caiden, neither of the sisters look bothered.

Elsa continues, "Anna set out to save me, which is how she met Kristoff. I lost control of my powers again and froze her heart. And the trolls had said only an act of true love could thaw it."

"I was young and naive," Anna interjects, "and I had gotten engaged to someone I had just met that day. Being locked in a castle for over eighteen years, you tend to yearn for some kind of companionship. A change to change my lonely world. I had thought he could give me a true love's kiss, but in the end, he only wanted power. And a kingdom to call his own. He was about to kill Elsa, and I sacrificed myself to stop him, at the cost of my body freezing into solid ice."

The two sisters share an expression of such deep love and loyalty Michael finds himself yearning for it.

"In the end, Anna's selfless act thawed her heart, and I came to learn to love my powers, rather than to fear them." says Elsa, and she then turns to Michael. That same gentleness doesn't fade from her eyes. "Love will thaw."

He can't help but smile back.

"Impressive you were able to freeze an entire kingdom. And be completely unaware of it, let alone have it effect your level of energy." Caiden chimes.

"You should see the Ice Palace she created up on the North Mountain." Anna giggles.

"An Ice Palace?" Danika chirps, her citrine eyes widening with shock.

Elsa, ever the bashful queen, smiles with a little triumph. "I had intended to be alone, to live my life up there where I felt, free. Able to be who I am without hurting anybody."

Caiden says, "It's clear you've never trained your magic before. What about to fight?"

Elsa shakes her head. "In the days I ran away, two men came and tried to kill me up at the North Mountain. I had to use my magic to defend myself. Almost losing who I was in the process."

"How do you mean?"

"I . . . I was worried I was becoming the monster they feared I was." Michael can feel her fingers tighten around his.

Silence. Then Danika says with a soft venom that makes everyone understand that the shifter is more than a smart mouth and a pretty face, "Let me tell you something Queeny. As someone who has perhaps been in your shoes before." That shared bond of anger, of pain throbs between the three of them. "Your magic does not define who you are. We of all people are examples of that. And," she continues, laying her palm flat on the table, "I once lived in a place where the opinion of others mattered. It suffocated me, nearly broke me. Their words, their opinions, don't define you either." Her voice gentles, and the tension between them all fades with it. "You might not be able to make up for the things in the past, but what you can do, is help create a better future."

Something sparks between the two women, a sort of understanding and appreciation that has Michael's shoulders sagging with relief.

And apparently there was also some unspoken question between the two, because Elsa then says, "Our parents did the best they could. They didn't really understand magic very well. But . . . they tried."

Michael wonders if the two former rebels had seen the portrait of the sisters' parents in the hall.

A portrait still covered with that black veil – still from moment he first arrived nearly two months ago. Still covered from when they perished six years ago.

"I presume Michael has been doing a good job of training you in combat?" Caiden drawls.

Elsa spares a small smile. "To the best of his abilities."

"When he's not being shot at by undead draugr or trying to hunt down nightmare-inducing demons from another dimension." Olaf adds, trying his best to make little figurines from his untouched plate.

Caiden jerks his head towards the little snowman. "Your magic is keeping him alive as well?"

Elsa nods. "And Marshmallow, and a few snowgies up at the Ice Palace." The two soldiers raise the brows, but the queen giggles. "I'm afraid that's another long story for another time." she looks to Caiden. "Michael has been doing wonders teaching me and Anna. But he said you would make a better teacher at training us in magic."

The shadow weaver braces his arms on the table. "It would be my honor to be your teacher."

"While I'd hate to ruin the moment, there is another matter at hand that we have to discuss." Michael says. He feels Elsa squeeze his fingers and looks to the worried queen with a tentative smile. "We can save it for dessert."