Brittany, France, March 12th 1420

Silhouetted against the glow of flickering flames lighting the night sky, the girl watched as her village burned to the ground. Her red hair gleamed a brilliant orange from the flames as they consumed everything in their path: wood, hay, animals and humans. In the pit of her stomach, she contemplated going into the fires to search for anyone still alive, or anything of value she could salvage. But fear froze her feet into the sodden earth. Eventually the anguish proved too much for the teenage girl to bear, and she collapsed to her knees, not caring how the mud stained her tunic.

Ash drifted around her, like the last leaves of fall. A voice befell upon her from the heavens. Terrible and booming loud. It provided little respite.

"Maiden! Wrought from the soil! Into thy hands I have placed the instrument of my vengeance, that thou shalt smote the invader from these lands."

Anna's right hand closed around the handle of an axe. This must've been where the carpenter's hut was, before the English destroyed everything. Her throat closed with terror.

A wretched noise of twisting, snapping wood filled her eardrums as a cottage disintegrated into a fiery heap. The faintest thought of her mother being in there sent a sob bubbling up from her lungs. She clenched her fist around the axe, trying to see if she could stop herself from crying with sheer force of will alone. It took a few minutes, but with gritted teeth, the girl's willpower won out. She rose and stomped off into the countryside on bare feet, vowing never to cry again for the sins of others.


"Alright mon belle, just settle down now," Anna soothed the startled cow, before repositioning herself under its swollen udder. Anna hardly cringed at the stench of manure in the shed, and her arms flexed as she worked out a full bucket of milk. Dawn began to break as she made her way back to the farmhouse, but she kept her eyes lowered from the brilliant crimson hue glowing in the sky.

She'd barely managed to start churning the butter, before the faintest sounds of screaming reached her.

Can't ever catch a break, can you?

For a moment, Anna continued to churn the butter, pretending all was alright. Hoping this was just her imagination and everything would go away and she could go back to living a normal life. The screaming rapidly increased with intensity, and before long, the noise of clashing steel and galloping horses added to the mayhem.

"Les Anglais arrivent! Les Anglais arrivent!" voices hollered in the crisp, dawn air.

Anna looked down at the dirt, which she knew would soon turn red with blood. She searched her soul for some inkling of fear at what was about to happen, but instead, found only weariness. Like she was weighed down by the atrocities of her past. Or a destiny she could not escape. Hungry. Tired. Upset. She stumbled through the fence gate, limp hand trailing in the tall grass until it closed around an axe handle left on the woodcutter's block. The divine voice befell her again.

The instrument of my vengeance.

Fleeing villagers brushed past her as their panic ascended into delirium. English Cavalry emerged from the forest. The blood-red sunrise gleamed off their armour as they picked up a trot right towards her. Run, you fool, her brain screamed at her. But she found only the strength to heave the axe upon her shoulders. She made out their coat of arms, the brilliant flags of red and blue filled her with a rage unlike any emotion she'd ever experienced.

Blinded by her anger, she flung the axe at the lead rider, impaling him in the chest and hurling him off his horse. The maddening rush of adrenaline pouring into her veins lent an unnatural speed to her feet as she wrenched the wretched instrument from his twitching body, before mounting his steed and taking the rest of the Cavalry head on. Whatever fear she'd felt in the past melted into seething hatred as she charged into the thick of horses and bloodied steel.

The other villagers stopped in their tracks as they looked upon this milkmaid single-handedly keeping her mount steady and meleeing the English horsemen. Lacking their instincts in Cavalry combat, she resorted to brute force, hacking and cleaving her way through their unit. As her axe left more and more broken heads and fallen horses in its wake, the Cavalry charge turned into a rout. Her desperate stoppage of the scout unit had emboldened the rest of the villagers, and they readily began to arm themselves with whatever weapons they could find from the fallen men.

"North to the river!" Anna cried, holding her blood-stained weapon aloft to the sun, "there's many an English scumbag crossing now as we speak-"


Boots firmly in her stirrups, the blonde Bailiff of Stuart casted a disdainful gaze at the wandering knight in the valley below. She squinted through the glare of the midday sun, making out the three-crested colours on his broadshield, confirming the fool was from the House of Valois. Elsa urged her mare forwards, knowing she didn't have the terrain to ambush this sodden bastard.

"Halt there!" Elsa commanded, drawing the knight's attention. The man swung around on his horse. A gleaming axe rested against his shoulder. Sunlight reflected off his full-faced helmet, casting glittering rays amongst the dandelions.

"By order of King Edward, the men-at-arms from the House of Valois are condemned as outlaws and rabble-rousers, fit only for imprisonment and death. As appointed Bailiff of the House of Stuart, I am here to put an end to your scavengery and misdeeds. Lay down your arms and I shall see to it that your life is spared."

Despite the hundred yards separating them, Elsa imagined hearing a chuckle from the man's helmet, right before he kicked his horse into a full gallop, directly at her.

So you have chosen death.

The ring of Elsa's drawn sword pierced through the French countryside. Her war horse churned up bits of grass and mud as it thundered down the valley. She gritted her teeth. A slight shift of her horse. Twenty yards. Before she ducked hard, smashing her sword into the knight's plate armour. The force knocked him off his horse, and her eyes widened at blood spilling upon the meadow.

"No!" Elsa shrieked, right before her horse flopped over, dead from a gushing wound split into its neck by the knight's axe. The crude weapon was still wrenched into the beast's neck, and its wielder was already on his feet, staggering away from the encounter. Despite being weighed down by plate armour and his helmet, the knight re-mounted his horse with ease, and began to flee the scene.

Fists clenched, Elsa watched the knight galloping away. A haul like him would fetch a handsome bounty. Perhaps it'd clear her father's name. Was this not why she was dispatched to roam the godforsaken French countryside? Blue eyes stared into her gloved hands with ambivalence. A moment of hesitation. Before she yanked them off with a flourish.

"Flee this," Elsa snarled, freezing her hands over. Ice magic flowed through her veins, and a lasso of frostwebs spiralled from her fingers. The icy rope sailed through the air and snagged her prey, yanking him head-first off his horse. A grin spread across her face as she watched him struggling to get up. She closed the distance in seconds.

"Coward and a scoundrel," Elsa cursed, jamming her boot on his breastplate, and yanking off his helmet. Red hair tumbled forth. Elsa staggered backwards, bewildered by the sight of a freckled red-headed lady, bathed in sweat, turquoise eyes gleaming in the sun. Her lips parted when she recognised who it was.

"Shieldmaiden Anna of Brittany," Elsa exclaimed, the sudden quiver in her voice betraying her utter surprise, "many a noble English warrior hath been slain by thine accursed instrument. But your Axe has fallen for its last time. By order of the King, I'm placing you under arrest for wounding my-."

"Save your blabbering and your witless comments, I'm heading back to the French lines," Anna spat, rolling over on her side.

"No, you're not," Elsa yelled, pinning Anna face-down in the grass with her boot. She swiftly trussed Anna's arms like a chicken, and tore off her armour. At once, her mind raced with the possibilities of how much gold a notable warrior like Anna would fetch. How many victories had she led the French to? Ten? Twenty? The legends about her heroism were scarcely believable, even more so as Elsa turned her prisoner to face her, in the light of day. To Elsa's surprise, the teenage girl was shorter than her.

Anna chuckled.

"What the hell is so funny?" Elsa seethed, clasping a hand around Anna's jaw.

"Looks like we're two women fighting a man's war-" Anna retorted, cheeks squished between Elsa's fingers.

"I could hardly care whether you're a man or a woman, you've waged war against the crown and now you must pay the consequences," Elsa snarled back. She drew back a fist to punch her in the face, but the sight of Anna's eyes stopped her. Brilliant turquoise and full of life. They reminded her of her Father, who never stopped at anything, or anyone. Anna sneered at her hesitation, only to get wrenched upright by the arms.

"That ice-cold rope you used," Anna queried, wincing at the pain from Elsa's grip, "what wretched sorcery was that?"

"None of your godforsaken business."

"And why are you acting as a Bailiff? Are there not enough men-of-law in England? Can none be spared for the French lands that they be compelled to send a lady to exact bounty on the righteous-"

"Be silent, wench!" Elsa yelled, "It is a long walk back to the castle. Do not make me roll over in frustration from your vexing questions."

Still, Anna refused to stop with her inquisitiveness. She asked every question she could think of under the sun - from the weather in England, to whether King Edward had claws for feet. As they meandered up and down the hilly French countryside back to the fortress, Elsa's harsh tone from earlier softened somewhat. But still, she refused to reveal the reason behind her law enforcement in France, or the plight of her family that forced this occupation.

"My head aches from your constant queries," Elsa sighed in frustration, "perhaps you can reveal to me, what a woman as young and fair as yourself is doing wielding an axe and leading the French against King Edward."

For once, Anna's lips were still, as memories fluttered through her mind. Her voice fell to a whisper.

"The English came after my village, twice, thrice, and each time, I ran. Everytime I fled, someone dear to me was lost to their arrows and their swords," Anna whispered, looking down at the dirt, "the last time they came, I had no one left for me. So I figured I'd give fighting back a chance."

Elsa stared into Anna's eyes. Eyes which now laid plain the grief that such a young girl was forced to endure. For all the French Lords and Knights she'd captured and turned in for money, not one of them complained about the devastation her country had laid on another.

"Do you not know fear?" Elsa asked, "that you would risk your life charging on the battlefield as a woman, where only death or defilement await you?"

"What fear left in me was burned out with the last village," Anna uttered back, "my only fear now is that I lose my arm, that I would never again swing my axe against an English scoundrel."

Looking away, Elsa pondered a reply to Anna's words, before realising she really had nothing to say, because this girl was her enemy. Instead, she tied Anna to a pasture fence.

"Do not attempt to unravel your bonds, I'm going to the farm to buy bread, and ask for directions," Elsa warned, before stomping off in the direction of a farmhouse. The kind farmers could only spare her a half-loaf of bread, but she was relieved to know they were trodding up the right path. However, the sound of a scream sent her dashing outside, and she gasped at the two unkempt men attempting to tear Anna's clothes off.

While she was still tethered to the fence.

"Elsa!" Anna screamed, desperately fending them off with frantic kicking and thrashing about. At once, Elsa drew her sword, and sprinted towards the brutes.

"In the name of King Edward, leave my prisoner unmolested or suffer the pain of death!" Elsa yelled.

Ignoring Elsa's warnings, they continued their endeavours at ripping apart Anna's tightly bound leather pants. Elsa's sword hissed through the air, before slicing his head clean off. The other ruffian fled to the treeline.

"Why the fuck did you have to do that?" Anna screamed at Elsa, kicking the decapitated head like it were a stone, "I was this close to getting violated-"

The distant sound of neighing sent them both whirling around.

"T-they're coming back," Elsa muttered, squinting at the trees, "with more."

"I know their tongue. These are not French, or English. They are Saxon brutes. Wandering bandits. Barbarians, as you call them. They answer to no crown."

Elsa's eyes widened as the neighing turned into galloping hooves. A dozen horsemen appeared from the forest.

"If you kill one, twelve will follow," Anna lamented. Her eyes fell to an axe left behind by the dead brute, and then at her own bound hands.

"Loosen my bonds, and we shall have a chance," Anna pleaded, straining against the fence, "if not, I fear we may both be defiled on this very soil."

Elsa hesitated, eyes switching between the approaching bandits, and the helpless girl. Was now the time to reveal herself? She gritted her teeth, before freeing her with a flick of her sword. Anna flexed her wrists, before picking up an axe. They both turned to face their enemy. The sight of their dead comrade struck no fear in them, rather, it intensified the bloodlust burning in their eyes.

"I'll lure away the lead rider, you can wheel around to att-"

No sooner had Elsa spoken, before Anna rolled on her side, hacking the lead rider's hooves off with a swing. In the time it took for Elsa to parry a sword blow, Anna had cut down six barbarian horsemen, dismounted another, and was in the process of driving her axe into his spine. Elsa hacked off a brute's arm, right as another grabbed her by the throat, lifting her clean off the ground. His eyes spelt a mix of rage and lust, before they widened in pain as Anna sank her axe into his back. In a few more seconds, the mess of groaning, broken bodies felt silent as Anna skittered between the wounded barbarians, putting each one out of their misery. A lifetime spent ploughing the fields had lent an unnatural strength and agility to her arms. Elsa drew back as Anna faced her, bloodstains splattered on her face and arms.

"The rumours about your prowess are true," Elsa observed, before extending a hand to Anna, "now, I bid thee surrender thy axe."

Anna tightened her grasp on the axe, smirking at the way Elsa's eyes turned from awe to fear. With a disdainful glance, she tossed her axe aside. They both turned at the distant sound of a horn, and recoiled in horror at the hundred or so barbarian horsemen looking upon them from the hills.

Kill one, and twelve will follow.

"Looks like we're fucked now," Anna said, turning toward Elsa, "now, I bid thee run me through with thine sword, such that I may not be taken alive and ravished by these brutes."

Despite the gnawing premonition of what was about to happen, a smirk broke out on Elsa's face, "I didn't take you for a lady who gave up that easily."

The barbarian horn sounded again, and all hundred of them descended from the hills in a chorus of yelping.

"I surrendered to you, didn't I?" Anna said, beckoning the woman to do the unthinkable, "and I never thought I'd say this - but it'll be an honour dying by another fair maiden's sword. Regardless of how much of an English scoundrel you are."

Elsa scoffed at Anna's words, before ripping off her gloves with a flourish. Her eyes darkened as thunder rumbled in the sky, the ominous sign doing nothing to stop the horsemen's advance. Kneeling to the ground, Elsa uttered a prayer, for forgiveness, before ploughing her fingers into the damp soil. At once, a thousand icicles erupted from the soil, piercing through flesh, bone and sinew, and leaving the hundred horsemen impaled upon its icy points. In mere seconds, the horde of barbarians were reduced to a foggy, bloodied mess.

The sight sent Anna reeling, she stumbled backwards with her mouth ajar. Eyes glued upon the frozen devastation. The horror struck her cold in the chest. She leapt to her feet and ran, as fast as she could, away from Elsa. Like before, an icy rope snagged around her ankles, tripping her face-first into the frozen dirt.

"You didn't think you could run away from me twice did you?" Elsa sneered.

"What the hell was that?" Anna screeched, as the Bailiff once again flipped her over and trussed her like a turkey, "How on earth did you do that?"

"Our Lord works in mysterious ways, why He chose to curse me with winter's frost, I know not," Elsa explained, helping Anna upright, "all I know is that for these reasons I've chosen to banish myself from the King's soil, such that the Church may investigate me no further for witchcraft and tarnish my family's name."

Heaving with fright, Anna turned her gaze upon the frozen, mangled corpses strewn across the countryside, only for Elsa to tip the girl's face back.

"Don't look at them," Elsa chided, pinching her chin, "look at me."

Still shaken, Anna stared into Elsa's electric blue eyes. The blonde woman looked back at her prisoner, trying to decipher the emotion swirling around in her eyes.

"You're not afraid of me?" Elsa asked, knowing full well the fear that her powers could conjure in men.

Anna swallowed the lump in her throat, taking in the sight of the taller woman standing before her.

"H-how could I be afraid of someone like you?" Anna answered, shaking off the sheer panic that made her flee, "as fair as Christmas morning, terrible as the storm after. If anything, I'm hopelessly drawn towards the intrigue of your story, and why you'd be willing to subject yourself to the crown, instead of living as the Queen you ought to be."

Elsa pondered her words, while an icy breeze sent her hair fluttering. All of a sudden, she stepped closer to Anna. The girl didn't flinch. Despite the ice in Elsa's hands, Anna felt nothing but warmth when she reached around to loosen her restraints. She reached out a trembling hand, and tucked a lock of Elsa's blonde hair behind her ear. The slightest brush of Anna's fingers against her cheek lit a fire in Elsa's chest, but she retained her composure.

Looking at the grass, Elsa bit down on her lip, torn between that strange feeling in her chest, and her duty to England.

"I'm s-still turning you in," Elsa stuttered, pulling her gloves back on, "you're wanted for waging war against the crown."

A lone horse trotted from the frozen wasteland, neighing in terror from Elsa's devastation. Anna caught hold of its reins, and at once, the beast fell into a melancholic calmness.

"Shh," Anna hushed, shutting her eyes as she pressed her face against its mane. The sheer gentleness and ease with which she won the horse over, stole Elsa's breath away.

"It will be nightfall in a few hours," Elsa commented, brushing her knuckles against the horse's pale coat, "I do not know if we will reach the fort in time."

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Elsa mounted the mare, and held out a hand to Anna. The tone in her voice hardened, "you can either ride with myself, or I shall have you dragged like a treasonous villain on his way to be quartered-"

Anna shrugged, and allowed herself to get hauled onto the horse. The softness of Elsa's breath fell upon her neck, and a sudden feeling of closeness fell upon her. No doubt, this lady was going to turn her in for certain beheading, or burning at the stake. Perhaps even tonight. But the sheer sense of intimacy proved too much to bear. Anna found her eyelids fluttering shut even as the horse started its trot. Just needing something to distract herself from the feeling, Anna's wandering fingers attempted to wrest control of the reins from Elsa.

"Don't you dare," Elsa snarled into her ear.

Spurred by the tussling upon its back, the horse took off on a steady gallop across the undulating French countryside. The sun nestled low amongst the hills, its fiery glow betraying what awaited them near the stream. Elsa felt it first: ash drifting from the sky like snow. Then the stench of blood and rotting corpses. Anna kept a steely gaze at the burnt out village they approached, all too familiar with the sight of death before her.

"What is this-" Elsa inquired, covering her face against the imposing stench of burnt flesh. A smouldering scene of destruction laid before them. So complete was the village's ruin that even the crows have long gone, leaving behind a blackened wasteland illuminated by the sunset's dull glow.

"Another atrocity like many others littering the countryside," Anna muttered, turning away from the sight of a dead child, its identity only revealed by its small size amongst the other half-putrefied corpses, "a town which refused to submit to your comrades, and thus bore the unfortunate price. Rick cot and tree-"

Elsa urged the horse forward with gritted teeth, unwilling to bear the sight of devastation. Sensing Elsa's apprehension, Anna turned to her captor.

"You knew about this, didn't you?" Anna asked, the tone in her voice hardening, "The devastation your countrymen have wrought on our land?. Have any Frenchmen left these shores to hinder the English way of life in antiquity that they now feel compelled to do the same?"

"No," Elsa snarled back, the aching in her chest spreading with each sputtered accusation Anna threw her way, "and I am not concerned with such matters. I do not wish misery upon the French, nor do I bear ill will upon the common folk-"

"And yet you stand idly by, profiting from this war while-"

"What makes you think-"

Fists clenched around the reins, Elsa saw three lanterns heading her way. Men of the crown. She narrowed her eyes at the coat of arms emblazoned upon their breastplates, and her hair stood on end when she realised that Anna's end had come.

"Greetings, Elsa of Stuart!" the voices called out in English, drawing a gasp from Anna, "thou hast delivered thy mightiest bounty to the crown, yet!"

All at once, Anna's voice broke into a stutter, pleading, "Elsa, please, I'm begging you, don't … don't deliver me to them, please"

It was too late, the men closed the gap in seconds, eager to haul Anna off.

"I pray you see to it that my prisoner is unmolested and unharmed," Elsa demanded, helpless to stop the men dragging her off the horse. Robbed of Anna's warmth, Elsa's hands shook violently as they hooded Anna and bound her hands yet again. The girl struggled against her captors, only to be swiftly clubbed in the head and punched in her gut.

The shriek of pain struck Elsa deep in the chest.

"Don't!" Elsa cried, before an Englishman waved her off.

"The Shieldmaiden Anna of Brittany is no longer wanted for insurrection or murder, but for the far greater crime of witchcraft," he announced.

"Witchcraft?" Elsa exclaimed, "but that bears the penalty of death, does it not? What kind of heinous-"

"Far be it to concern you," he scoffed, "we shall see to it that her bounty is tripled for you. Such great of a criminal you have apprehended-"

At once, Elsa turned away and rode off, unwilling to show the tears in her eyes. The rational part of her mind comprehended immediately that a triple bounty would pay for her passage back, pay to clear her father's name, and with plenty leftover for a comfortable retirement. Yet, the guilt gnawed at her heart like starving rats on leather scrap. The burning stench from earlier was gone, replaced only by the lingering fragrance of Anna's hair which served only to remind her how close that girl was to her. And now she was torn away to face certain death - all this of her doing.

"I'm….I'm sorry," Elsa sputtered to the dusk sky.


Whatever warmth she felt in the saddle had long gone as Elsa tiptoed between the narrow, cobbled streets within the castle. She knew she should be resting, counting her gold and languishing in the security of an assured future. But something compelled her into the alleyways, seeking one last figment of information that'd set everything straight.

Elsa tipped her wide-brimmed hat over her eyes as a gaggle of milkmaids passed her, shoulders slooped from a long day in the fields. Everywhere she went, people eyed her with deep-seated suspicion, all-too-aware of her identity as one of the English invaders. A breeze picked up through the streets, carrying with it distant notes from a lute, and at once Elsa's pace quickened as she recognised the score.

"Kristoff," she whispered into the square, directed at the shadowy figure seated before an upturned hat. A smoking pipe glowed in the dimness, and she detected a faint snicker in the silence.

Right then.

Looking over her shoulder, Elsa scampered across the square, skin bristling in fear at being this exposed, even after nightfall.

"The rumours are true then," Kristoff muttered, putting aside his lute and folding his arms, "about the famed warrior you hauled in today-"

Elsa grimaced, and shook her head, "Aye-"

"I suppose you can make good on your debt then," he sneered, holding out an upturned palm.

Sighing, she laid out a stack of gold coins, before continuing, "Actually, I'm here for more information-"

"Already onto the next haul yet, are we?" Kristoff sniggered, relighting his pipe, "One would've assumed you'd be in London by now. So generous was the bounty that your family's name would've been cleared for generations. And as we all know, the rumours of your sorcery draw ever more closer to thee. Like a noose around a condemned neck, like a trap closing in on a rat-"

Elsa's throat tightened, and she waited for him to continue.

"Tell me, those Saxon bodies in the valley found earlier today, what host of England or France could've destroyed them in such a complete manner? I know not of any such army patrolling the grounds. What about the frost found beneath their hooves? And the freshly fallen snow, so unheard of in March? Was it someone's cunning witchcraft which led them to this fate, or the panic of a sorceress, so careful to keep herself hidden all this while-"

Elsa's lips quivered in response, "I…I trust this accursed gift is safe behind your tongue-"

"Perhaps so, but I can't say the same for the monks looking to question you. I shudder to imagine what fate awaits-"

She shook her head, swallowing the fear that crept up her spine, "I-I'm not here for that, I was wondering if you can tell me where they've kept the Shieldmaiden Anna of Brittany, for I must speak to her."

Kristoff raised an eyebrow. For a moment, he pondered Elsa's request, before extending an upturned palm again.

"I trust you can pay in advance, this time-"

This time, Elsa barely hesitated to place another stack of gold coins in his palm, and he answered without a hitch.

"They've taken her to the convent, up the road," he tilted his head, "though I can scarcely comprehend the reason for your query. I did not take you for one who played with their food before killing it."

"I do not wish her dead-"

"But yet she is to be put to death tomorrow, is she not?

Elsa's gasp echoes across the dimly lit square, startling a few crows. She clenches her fists, resisting the chill spreading through her insides.

"Death? Tomorrow? For what? And why so soon? What of a trial? And witnesses and judges and…and…and-"

A grin spread across Kristoff's face.

"Something tells me it isn't your shared affinity for witchcraft or sorcery which pains you so. And if your secret rests with the Shieldmaiden, should you not be relieved it perishes with her? Perhaps your affections lie with-"

Kristoff's voice trailed into the dead of the night as she scampered towards the convent. Unsure of exactly why she was headed there, and uncertain if it would quench the longing fire in her heart. The convent's weathered, Gothic masonry stood out like a inky blot amongst the town's buildings; bringing with it an imposing shadowy aura telling a story of the women who'd voluntarily locked themselves away, and the ones who had no choice. Gate by gate, Elsa argued her way past several layers of security, bribing those who weren't amenable to her voice.

Until at last, a paunchy nun brought her to the deepest bowels of the convent, meant for keeping the ones who've devolved into hysteria, or demonic possession.

"Be wary," the nun whispered, as though the very rats in the building had ears and understood secrets, "this one has the strength of ten men. Heaven have mercy on your soul and hers-"

With a thrust and turn of the key, Elsa was inside the cell, barely three paces across. With a threadbare pile of potato sacks in the corner. And a pair of green eyes refusing to die. Anna's pants and tunic from earlier had been replaced with the same grey dress and veil that the nuns wore.

"Have they sent you here to torment me further?" Anna exclaimed, leaping to her feet, "for that would be the pleasure to end all pleasures before I'm put to death tomorrow."

Elsa's chest clenched as the girl stood a foot away from her. Several angry-looking welts had appeared on Anna's cheekbone, and a bruise had begun to form on her chin.

"Y-you're hurt," Elsa whispered, her fists clenching, "I told them not to hurt you."

"The head nun struck me in an effort to make me confess," Anna answered, gritting her teeth, "I told her I confessed her mother's a whore."

It was barely a few hours, but Elsa felt like Anna was separated from her for years. She'd scarcely known her for a day, but Anna felt like she knew Elsa for a lifetime. In the dim candlelight, Elsa extended a trembling hand towards Anna's cheek. The girl jerked away at the motion, but otherwise allows Elsa to touch her wounds. At once, a smattering of frost spreaded across her bruises, numbing her pain and setting her senses alight.

Clasping the woman's hands, Anna inhaled deeply at the scent of frost coursing through her fingertips. Her eyes betrayed an utter confusion and delight at the cold biting back at her lips. And yet, the sensation overwhelmed her, and tears escaped her eyes.

"I'm…I'm so terribly sorry, Anna," Elsa stuttered, dispelling the frost such that only warmth remained between them, "I sh-shouldn't have-"

"My soul can pass in peace now," Anna answered, snivelling and failing to stop the tears, "now that I've known someone like you."

"You don't despise me?" Elsa asked, unsure of whether or not she wanted to hear the answer. A great veil that had cloaked Elsa's eyes began to lift, and at once the crushing guilt set into her heart like stone. The noble Frenchmen she'd hauled off to English courts, who were only defending their lands; the decimated villages and dead peasants she'd turned a blind eye to. All wrapped up into one teenage red-headed girl who was now kissing her hands like it was the last thing on earth to her.

"I'm a sinner, I'm the invader, I'm the barbarian," Elsa choked, a tear trickling down her face and freezing over, "it should be me on the stake instead of you!"

"No!" Anna exclaimed, as though the very thought pained her. At once, she stepped forth and captured the woman's lips with her own. The sweet-salty taste of Anna's lips ignited a fervent desire within Elsa's soul, and she kissed her back with the fury of a winter storm.

"I can't live without you," they breathed in unison, cupping each others' faces and drinking deep from the well of passion their lips had to offer. The guilt of being solely responsible for Anna's impending death robbed Elsa of all strength and crushed her to her knees.

"Please don't go, please don't go, please don't go," Elsa uttered, over and over again like a prayer, echoing the very thoughts in Anna's mind. The girl clutched Elsa's shaking form to herself, desperately clinging onto the last point of comfort on earth for her, right on the eve of having her life snuffed out.

"There is no comfort left for me on this earth, no worldly delight that can compare to the absolute pleasure of knowing your presence," Anna whispered.

"I don't want the gold, I don't want any of this," Elsa seethed, dumping her purse and painting a snowflake upon the barren stone floor, "I…I just want you-"

The veil slipped from Anna's hair as she pushed Elsa onto the ground. In the stony darkness, they consumed each other with a passion like it was the last day on earth for both of them. Silence interspersed with cries of pleasure. Rough, ragged surroundings beset by the smoothness of their skin. The pain of Anna's wounds forgotten in the bliss of Elsa's touch. The climax of their union subsided as they're still curled up in the corner of the cell in each other's arms, and Elsa's jaw hardened as she held Anna's quivering body to herself. The girl's wavy red hair fell like sheets of copper upon her bosom, and she casted a disparaging look at her bailiff's uniform, strewn by the stone wall.

Worst still - the footsteps approaching from outside, a sure sign she would be wrenched from Anna's side yet again.

"I must go," Elsa whispered, the words driving a nail into her heart.

"I am ready to go," Anna whispered, pressing her lips to Elsa one last time, "I have looked for you my entire life, and now I have found you. And hence, I am ready to depart this world-"

Knock, knock.

Grief clutched hold of Elsa in the very depths of her soul, but she forced herself to wipe the tears from Anna's face, "D-don't say that, I'll save you, I'll do something, I promise-"

"No!" Anna pleaded, "do not risk yourself for a wretch like me. Live as the queen you ought to be - do this for my memory, please-"


The convent still resembled a grey scrawl at sunrise as Elsa went back in the morning. Staring at the nun with her jaw ajar, Elsa shook her head, and asked one more time, only to receive the same answer.

"I'm sorry, m'love," the nun insisted, "the men-at-arms took Anna away at dawnbreak. I know not where. They had orders from the King of England-"

At once, Elsa departed and trotted from place to place - but everywhere she went, people responded to her with blank stares, and outright ignorance. Even the townsquare - the usual place for public executions, was silent as the graveyard. The faint melody of a lute raised her hopes yet again, but Kristoff appeared more downcast than usual. Elsa held out a stack of gold toward him, only for him to push it back.

"You have to tell me where they've taken Anna-"

Kristoff shook his head, lips pursed in a straight line.

"There was a rumour that her French comrades were planning to rescue her. So potent was her axe-arm, so mystical was her image to the French morale. The English thought this too great of a risk to bear and took her away to be burnt to death under the charge of witchcraft."

The words struck Elsa like lightning, but she persisted, "Please, please, tell me where-"

"I can't help you this time, not for all the gold in the world," Kristoff muttered, shaking his head, "not even the men themselves knew where they were going. I heard they cast lots and rode off in a random direction, unknown even to themselves."

Elsa turned from him and staggered off. The memory of Anna's brilliant green eyes, so full of courage and love even in the face of her impending death, wrought even more guilt into her heart. She collapsed to a knee and clutched her face, sobbing at the life she'd just destroyed.


With her hands bound behind her and eyes blindfolded, Anna's heart was set in stone as the carriage's rumbling stopped. Her ears perked at the sound of birds tweeting, and daylight shone through the blindfold as a pair of arms helped her off the carriage. Biting down on her lip, she didn't resist as the men guided her to the pyre. The scent of pine and crunching of dry leaves told her that she was in a forest, but none of that mattered now. She clenched her jaw as the memory of Elsa's taste filled her mouth yet again. In the back of her mind, she prayed for the bittersweet profession of Elsa's love for her, to help her through the agony of her final moments.

A lump formed in Anna's throat when she detected the faint smell of paraffin beneath her feet as she was tied to the burning-post. She swallowed hard at the fear, knowing there was nothing else to be afraid of anymore. She had fulfilled every divine quest the Lord had set her upon, and found the love of her life as recompense.

"Behold! The wretched criminal Anna of Brittany stands before us, guilty of witchcraft, dressing in men's clothes, heresy and-"

"Save your wicked words and false accusations," Anna snarled, straining against her bonds, "my Maker awaits me. And I shall brook no delay in begging Him to smote thee upon the woodlands-"

A shriek escaped her lips as a gloved hand struck her across the cheek, inflaming her earlier wounds.

"-heresy and she is sentenced to be burnt at the stake until nothing is left-"

Without pause, the acrid smoke entered her lungs as the wood caught ablaze.


"Please, please, please," Elsa pleaded on her knees, unsure of who or what she was pleading with. She stared at her gloved hands, not even caring that she was shedding frozen tears into the soil, right in broad daylight as the townsfolk began their daily business around her. The slightest glimmer of hope flickered within her soul, and she pulled off her gloves.

"All this while I have cursed Thy Name, for afflicting me with this frost," Elsa prayed into the dirt, "but for once let Thy Majesty shine forth from the heavens. And I shall treat this as a gift upon the world."

With shaking hands, Elsa uttered a prayer for Anna's soul, before ploughing her hands into the sodden earth.


Anna's defiance from earlier quickly dissolved into panic and she let out a guttural cry of agony at the flames searing into her flesh. Looking to the heavens, she uttered a prayer for both herself and Elsa; that she may be delivered quickly from this torment, and that Elsa be spared from discovery.

And lo! There it was again! That terrible, booming voice from the heavens which beset her in this state and gave her purpose in life. Even in the light of day a radiant, dazzling beam shone down from the heavens, illuminating the smouldering heap and the maiden writhing about in torment within.

"Behold, Shieldmaiden Anna! Thy purpose is incomplete, thy destiny unfulfilled! Into thy hands I have placed the instrument of my vengeance!"

A sickening, crackling sound entered Anna's ears as the wood heap beneath her feet blazed with all its might and threatened to collapse. Tongues of fire licked at her arms, erupting blisters on her skin and unravelling her bonds. Freed from her restraints, she raised her hands to the heavens as the flames died down in intensity. Amidst the choking smog and pain-induced delirium, the sensation of cold didn't make sense to her until she felt an ice axe crystallising in her hands, and frost caking the firewood beneath. Studded with icy thorns and light as a feather, the axe gleamed in the sunlight, radiating a majestic, holy aura.

The instrument of my vengeance.

Sunlight burned into Anna's eyes as the blindfold fell. With a maddening roar, Anna leapt off the pyre and struck down three Englishmen, before a fourth had his head cleft in twain. A fifth dared oppose her, only to be struck so hard in the helm that the ice axe shattered, spraying his eyes with icicles.

"Begone, invaders!" Anna yelled, snatching his sword and cowering the others into fleeing, "the Lord has befallen thee!"

The adrenaline from earlier faded away, and all at once the pain from Anna's wounds sent her limping towards the nearest horse. But still, she mounted the mare and took off into the countryside, unsure of whether she'd live to see Elsa again.


epilogue - Dorset, England

Seated behind an ornate writing desk, the Countess Elsa of Stuart sipped her wine as she gazed upon the immense apple orchard from the balcony. A map of Northern France hung behind her, and upon the greying parchment stood wooden pegs, driven in by the Countess for every battle she'd read or heard about involving Anna. The rumours and stories were difficult to verify in authenticity; some said Anna could summon lightning, some said Anna had wings for arms and claws for feet. Still, the best rumour was that Anna herself caused the ferocious winter storm, which conveniently showed up where King Edward's troops threatened to make further inroads into French lands, and disappeared when the villagers came to collect their harvest.

Elsa's father stood behind her in stately garb. With instincts hardened by decades of warfare, his eyebrows furrowed at the slight kick of dust in the distance.

"Someone's coming," he nudged Elsa.

Her eyes widened at the horse and carriage rumbling down the driveway of her estate. At once, she snatched a few shillings off the table and sprinted down the stairs, each step she took spreading a snowflake into the wood. The messenger appeared whiter than usual, and quivered with fright in step with the horses' trot.

"What news?" Elsa exclaimed, before he'd even reached her doorstep, "What news from the frontlines in Brittany?"

"A-apologies, your excellency," the messenger stuttered, "she stowed away on my boat and carriage, and threatened to maim me if I told-"

Gasping, Elsa turned and watched as a familiar redheaded girl emerged from the carriage. Anna's eyes still shone with the same sparkling light of her divine purpose. A limp in her step was evident, and she supported herself on a long-handled axe, as a walking stick. There were scars on her arms and neck, but the lady's poise still emanated every bit of resilience and elegance Elsa had fallen in love with.

"Your orchard looks dreadful," Anna sneered, feigning a curtsy reserved for women of nobility, "I assume the Lady of the Estate is in need of a woodcutter, and I happen to be available for hire-"

With a thunk, Anna's axe fell to the earth as she collapsed into the blissful warmth of Elsa's embrace. Having gone through hell and emerging as the face of Frankish liberty, Anna finally shed her visage in the safety of Elsa's arms. The sudden rush of warmth overwhelmed every nerve in Anna's body, and she struggled to piece together her next words.

"I…I knew it was you all along," Anna stuttered, tears trickling down her face, "you kept me safe, everywhere I went."

In that moment, Elsa shut her eyes, inhaling the cherry-sweet fragrance of Anna's hair which had pervaded her dreams all this while.

"And I'll never stop," Elsa whispered, "I'll never stop keeping you safe for all the summers and winters to come."

A/N: Loosely based on the legend of Joan of Arc