Frozen: The Black Dread
(I do not own the rights to Game of Thrones/House of the Dragons and Frozen. Those rights respectively belong to Disney and HBO/George R. R. Martin.)
Hey guys I'm back at it again with another chapter of this story. Last we left off was Balerion trying to get used to his new predicament, finding a new companion in the name of Ashley and setting off to Arendelle and a mention of Queen Elsa. I will be focusing more on Elsa and her state of mind in this chapter along side of Anna and Kristoff and Olaf for obvious reasons. With the brief recap let's get this story started.
Chapter 4
Elsa, having nearly completed her third year as the monarch, found her reign to be marked by a series of tumultuous events. She recalled the fateful day when her powers became public amidst a fleeting winter crisis that threatened the very lives of her citizens and her beloved sister, Anna. Despite uncovering treacherous figures, such as the Duke of Weselton—aptly nicknamed "Weasel Town" by Elsa—and the conniving former Prince Hans, Elsa managed to repair her bonds with Anna after years of emotional estrangement.
Standing on her balcony, Elsa surveyed her kingdom as the afternoon sun bathed Arendelle in a warm glow. Her mind raced with thoughts of change, reflecting on how swiftly circumstances could shift, for better or worse. It was a sentiment borne of experience, and one she often contemplated in moments of solitude.
A gentle knock disrupted her reverie. "Good afternoon, Elsa," came Anna's cheerful voice as she stepped into the room. "Good afternoon to you, Anna. How are you doing today?" Replied Elsa as she begins to finish up her hair in a semi formal manner.
Anna continued, "Kristoff and I have been planning a little getaway for a few days. We thought it would be a great way to relax and perhaps rediscover our true selves, free from the titles and expectations that weigh us down."
Elsa, touched by her sister's thoughtful gesture, smiled softly. The prospect of spending a quiet evening under the starlit sky, away from the burdens of her duty, was tempting. However, her sense of responsibility tugged at her, reminding her of the ever-present demands awaiting her attention.
Elsa, burdened by the weight of leadership and the weight of political misalignment or personal disinterest, focused primarily on the prosperity and protection of Arendelle. Anna, sensing her sister's solitude, made a conscious effort to include Elsa in more personal and intimate settings. Anna, with her effervescent nature, was always eager to bridge the emotional chasm between them, a remnant of their less harmonious past.
"I'll try to join if I can," Elsa reaffirmed, her voice filled with hope. "Balancing my duties with nurturing our relationship is important to me as well."
After finishing getting ready with her usual royal dress and placing her crown on her head the siblings left Elsa's room and headed to the chambers for where Elsa will most likely spend the rest of the the day in.
As they traversed the familiar castle corridors, Anna linked her arm with Elsa's, symbolizing their shared solidarity as they approached the ornate double doors leading to the council chambers.
Stepping inside, Elsa addressed the esteemed council members with her usual composure and resolute demeanor. She acknowledged the significance of strengthening Arendelle's alliances but couldn't overlook the personal implications.
"While I comprehend the necessity of forging robust trade relations and alliances, I must emphasize that such decisions should not compromise one's personal liberties or integrity. Although I am committed to Arendelle's prosperity, I will not be compelled into a marriage born out of necessity rather than mutual affection and choice," Elsa firmly declared, her resolve evident.
The council members exchanged glances, assessing Elsa's response. While some seemed content with her clarity and leadership, others remained uncertain, their aspirations for advantageous ties potentially impeding her stance.
Anna observed her sister's command of the situation, feeling immense pride in Elsa's fortitude and eloquent presentation. After the meeting finally concluded, Anna turned to Elsa, her smile radiant and approving.
"You handled that exceptionally well, Elsa. I genuinely admire your strength," Anna expressed sincerely.
"Thank you, Anna," Elsa replied warmly. "Having you by my side provided me with the courage I required. I sincerely hope the council comprehends that our strength lies not solely in political alliances, but also in upholding what is right for us and our people."
Anna left soon after, leaving Elsa to oversee the meeting with the eight council members. These individuals hailed from varied backgrounds, some from distinguished military families, others seasoned political leaders, with a few having stumbled into their roles by sheer chance. Elsa settled at the head of the table, greeting the room with a composed "Good afternoon." She prepared to address the day's pressing issues.
The first speaker was Sir James Wilson, a man in his early forties with a distinctive appearance due to vitiligo, standing at five feet ten inches tall. "It has come to my attention that local Raders have been stealing the fruits and vegetables from several key ports, the unfortunate result is that we had to raise the prices on said goods remaining here".
Elsa listened intently, and curiously as to what they been doing. "Do we know where they located? Surely they must have a base to stage their attacks on?" Asked Elsa as she made a valid point. "This group, they move around frequently; never staying in one place. Likely a reason why so many ports have been hit in a short period of time." Said sir James as he notes that while no lives have been lost some injuries have occurred. "I entrust in you to increase security around any potential targets in the future and have the locals be asked of any information about their whereabouts. Any leads can be obtained to them will be rewarded." Said Elsa as she moves on to the nest councilmen.
Sir David Hightower took the floor next,his looks to be from the local lands with a slightly smaller then average height of five feet five inches and with some scars around his face that came from a military service in past time. He presenting a detailed report regarding the monthly totals of iron and silver shipments sourced from the nearby mountains. The totals thus far were consistent with expectations, which was reassuring given the key role these resources played in Arendelle's economy and infrastructure. Elsa acknowledged the positive report, nodding at Sir David.
However, Elsa couldn't help but express her worries over the noticeable decrease in timber supplies, a resource equally vital for sustaining the kingdom's needs. "Timber resources are showing clear signs of decline – what insights do you have on this, Sir David?" Elsa inquired, her concern evident.
Sir David paused, gathering his thoughts. "Our preliminary investigations suggest a few potential causes," he began. "We may be seeing an increase in diseased trees, which reduces the quality and usability of the timber. Furthermore, there has been some evidence of excessive damage to available wood, possibly exacerbated by natural causes or over-harvesting in certain areas. We also cannot ignore the possibility of interference from local beaver populations impacting the ecosystem and thus the availability of healthy timber."
Despite these possibilities, Sir David conceded that they had not yet pinned down a definitive cause. "More thorough assessments are underway, and I hope to have a clearer picture within the coming weeks," he reassured Elsa, though he knew the uncertainty was less than comforting.
Elsa appreciated the efforts to identify the issue but recognized that swift action might be needed. "I urge you to prioritize this investigation," Elsa responded decisively. "A continuous supply of timber is essential for our building projects and for safeguarding against the harsh winters. Together, we must ensure we address any factors contributing to this shortfall."
With this agenda item closed, the focus shifted to the next council matter.
Next to speak was Sir Issac Davis, a robust figure well-versed in the complexities of Arendelle's urban challenges. With a stern yet considerate demeanor, he brought to the council's attention a burgeoning issue: the recent influx of immigrants had led to overpopulation and subsequent housing shortages.
"The overcrowding," Sir Issac asserted, "has forced many new arrivals to erect makeshift communities of tents and temporary shelters on Arendelle's outskirts. This situation poses a significant threat not only to the well-being of these individuals but also to the reputation we uphold with potential trade partners."
Understanding the sensitivity of the matter, Elsa approached the issue with empathy and clarity. "Our response to this dilemma," she said, "must be guided by compassion and an awareness of the dignity of those who have come to seek refuge in our land. We cannot ignore their plight, nor can we act in ways that could inflame the tensions these changes bring."
Elsa suggested organizing a task force to evaluate feasible measures that would neither alienate the newcomers nor strain the existing inhabitants.
To propose solutions, Sir Issac suggested two main courses of action:
"We could expedite the construction of temporary community homes," he posited. "These facilities would offer safe, hygienic, and secure accommodation—acting as a stopgap measure while pursuing long-term housing projects."
Alternatively, Sir Issac suggested collaboration with Arendelle's local churches. "We could engage ecclesiastic support to open church halls and annexes to house people temporarily," he proposed, adding that such actions would strengthen community ties. "This arrangement would extend a welcoming hand until permanent solutions are viable."
Elsa welcomed these proposals, stressing the importance of thoughtful and inclusive approaches. "We must ensure everyone feels part of our community," Elsa concluded, "and it is incumbent upon us to forge solutions that reflect our core values of unity and mutual respect."
The session ended on a note of agreement, with council members resolved to craft a strategy that harmonizes humanitarian concerns with economic issues.
Sir Arthur Bell, an experienced council member noted for his pragmatism, raised the sensitive topic of marriage, one that Queen Elsa had heard for over a year now. "Your Majesty," he began cautiously, "it's well-known that your sister is with someone outside of the normal social standing, given that she's second in line to the throne. The council permits this flexibility. However, your position is quite different. Being Queen and without direct successors brings about unique challenges."
Elsa responded with mixed emotions, "Why continue with this debate? The past few suitors have been more interested in gaining political power than forming a true partnership, and some proposals were frankly indecent."
Sir Arthur explained, "Your Majesty, there are rumors of external threats. Individuals outside our country, fearing your magical abilities, wish to see you removed or worse. These schemes could destabilize our monarchy and threaten anyone connected to you."
While Elsa understood the gravity of his statements, she remained firm. "I won't marry simply to quell fears or secure political advantage," she reiterated, convinced that her personal integrity was as important as her nation's security.
Sir Arthur nodded respectfully, "We appreciate your stance, yet must find a balanced approach to ensure both personal agency and Arendelle's safety."
The council's usual air of formal discussion quieted to an expectant silence, the gravity of Arthur's tone setting all on edge. Elsa met Arthur's gaze directly, a silent nod granting permission to continue.
"There have been whispers, persistent rumors of a rogue element within your court," Arthur continued, "plotting to enforce a marriage upon you—without your consent or knowledge." His words fell like stones into the still water, causing visible ripples amongst council members.
Elsa's expression froze, the familiar sensation of shock intertwined with anger seizing her. For a brief, heart-pounding moment, all that filled her mind was a cacophony of betrayal. She struggled to fathom how such a scheme could exist within her own trusted circle.
The emotions churned forcefully within her, manifesting physically in the prompt response of ice and snow swirling aloft in the chamber. The temperature dropped noticeably as Elsa, blindsided and emotional, fought to retain her composure. Her powers, though mostly under her control, reacted to her inner turmoil without heed to restraint.
"I will not be dictated nor manipulated into such bondage!" Elsa asserted, her voice steady but laced with the icy edge of resolve. Her authority was palpable, and echoing with a tone that brooked no dissent, simultaneously dispelling any doubts of her vulnerability.
Through the haze of shock and emerging defiance, Elsa's voice softened slightly, "Sir Arthur, I trust that you spoke only out of genuine concern for Arendelle's safety as well as my own." Her words served as a declaration to those assembled—loyal governance and personal freedom were non-negotiable.
Arthur, remaining respectful and slightly abashed, nodded solemnly, "Your Majesty, I apologize for the unsettling nature of this news. Your strength is beyond measure, and it is with that same strength we must root out those who threaten your rule from within."
With invisible bonds of trust reaffirmed between duty-bound allies, Elsa turned to her council, her gaze sweeping across them, ensuring all understood the seriousness of these revelations. "We will address this threat quietly yet thoroughly," she instructed. "We must protect our kingdom, our legacy, and safeguard what we've built."
After dismissing the council following their lengthy discussions, Elsa retreated to her private chamber. Despite her composed exterior, the weight of the day's revelations bore heavily on her. The emotional toll of political intrigue and the relentless expectations of leadership left her feeling raw and vulnerable. As she sat at her desk, a sense of isolation enveloped her, and she found herself quietly weeping, the manifestation of inner turmoil causing ice and snow to gather in the corners of her room. Her powers, intertwined with her emotions, responded to her distress, reflecting the storm within.
In these moments of solitude, Elsa prayed for solace, yearning for the strength to navigate the complexities of her role. The burdensome knowledge of plots and schemes within her trusted circle replayed in her mind, a constant reminder of the precarious balance between duty and personal integrity.
Gradually, Elsa summoned the resolve to compose herself, wiping away the traces of her tears. She redirected her focus to the pressing paperwork that awaited her attention, determined not to let these challenges impede the responsibilities she bore for her people. Her thoughts briefly turned to personal engagements planned for the evening with Anna and Kristoff. Yet, the demands of her position weighed heavily, leaving her uncertain of whether she could join them as intended.
With a sigh, Elsa began addressing the documents before her, her commitment to Arendelle's welfare unwavering. Even as her responsibilities loomed large, she recognized the importance of maintaining the bonds with those she held dear. Making a mental note to send a message via Olaf should she be unable to attend, Elsa's momentary doubt was lightened by a renewed determination to balance her obligations and personal connections.
Balerion and Ashley slowly rode through the lively streets of Arendelle as the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the bustling marketplace. The clatter of hooves barely rivaled the noise of merchants hawking their goods, townsfolk exchanging news, and children playing nearby.
"This town reminds me of my old home," Balerion mused aloud, noting the animated scene unfolding around him. "Back home, everything seemed to come alive at sunset."
Ashley nodded, a reflective smile on her lips. "Since last Christmas, business has really picked up around this time," she remarked. Her comment piqued Balerion's curiosity.
"Christmas? What's that?" he asked, the unfamiliar term rolling off his tongue with intrigue.
Ashley chuckled softly. "It's a holiday of celebration—of bringing gifts, of being thankful for the past year. The local churches play a big role, especially when it comes to supporting those in need," she explained, pointing out a few elegant church spires visible against the twilight sky. "They donate money to help those struggling, not expecting anything in return."
Balerion appeared contemplative as they passed through one of Arendelle's city gates. "So, the church does this without expecting repayment?" he probed, a hint of skepticism in his voice.
"Exactly," Ashley affirmed with a nod. "They do it out of kindness, not for personal gain."
Their conversation continued as they rode deeper into Arendelle, the city's vibrant atmosphere a stark contrast to the weight of leadership and responsibility Elsa faced. Still, the principles Ashley conveyed mirrored the values that Elsa herself endeavored to uphold in her reign—compassion, integrity, and an unwavering commitment to the welfare of her people.
They continued wandering through the town, and it wasn't long before they noticed a 'help wanted' sign at the blacksmith shop. Curious, Balerion turned to Ashley, "Who runs this place?"
Ashley smiled and replied, "The shop is owned by Brok and Sindri, twin brothers who are well-known here. They're considered two of the best blacksmiths in the city and they have the honor of doing official business with the royal family. They've been around long before I was born and have a reputation for being quite the duo. Brok is outspoken and often says whatever is on his mind, while Sindri is more reserved, respectful, and has a bit of a reputation for being a germaphobe."
Intrigued, Balerion listened intently as she went on. "There is a third person who helps them out, but I can't recall his name. I do know he lost his ability to walk after a terrible accident. Despite his struggles, he's been trying to help the brothers with their financial affairs, though he hasn't had much luck so far."
Balerion pondered on the information. His knowledge of blacksmithing was rudimentary, limited to creating the Iron Throne from the swords of those he conquered when he was still a dragon. Perhaps working with these legendary craftsmen could improve his skills. "Do you trust these blacksmiths?" Balerion asked Ashley, seeking her perspective.
"I do," she replied without hesitation. "Years ago, they gave me a high-quality knife free of charge to protect myself. I would be more than willing to repay their kindness in any way I could."
Balerion nodded, "Good, I've seen people of this town use those same coins and paper that I've handed to you. Perhaps we can earn more of those items." Ashley laughed softly. "That's money, you must've not had to deal with that before" she explained.
With a newfound purpose, Balerion resolved to visit the blacksmith shop, eager to hone his skills and contribute in whatever way he could to the thriving community of Arendelle.
The knocking at the door cut through the playful chaos in the blacksmith's workshop. The man in the wheelchair glanced towards the door, instructing the others to hold on as he made his way over to answer it. The lively banter among the trio paused momentarily as they watched their friend maneuver his way around the various tools and half-finished projects scattered about the workshop.
The air inside the workshop was filled with the smell of hot metal and sawdust, the byproducts of the intense crafting carried out within its walls. Tools hung from every available surface, and each corner seemed to host a different ongoing project—from an ornate sword to a delicate piece of jewelry.
The blue-skinned individual, who had been so lively moments ago, leaned against a workbench, watching his brother with a mix of amusement and exasperation. His brother, still looking queasy from the earlier incident, perched a safe distance from the forge, trying to regain his composure.
Their banter resumed shortly, filled with light-hearted jabs and laughter, until the door creaked open to reveal a stranger. The man in the wheelchair welcomed the newcomer with a warm smile. "Good to see some fresh faces around," he said, his voice carrying over the clang of metal. "What can we do for you today?"
Balerion and Ashley stood at the entrance, taking in the scene before them. The workshop, vibrant with life and industry, was a stark contrast to the quieter halls of palaces or the armories of Balerion's past. The twins, with their distinct personalities and relentless energy, heralded a unique experience that was already proving to be an adventure in itself.
Balerion's eyes roved over the space, noticing not just the craftsmanship but also the camaraderie that filled the room. It was a new kind of community—one bonded not by titles or blood, but by shared toil and respect for one another's skills. As they introduced themselves, the blue-skinned man stepped forward, clapping Balerion on the back. "Welcome! Take a look around. Just watch out for those tools—they have a mind of their own sometimes," he quipped with a grin.
Inside the workshop, Balerion felt the stirrings of a new purpose. Here was a place where his contributions could be tangible, where he could transform raw materials into something more with his own two hands. Looking over at Ashley, who was now engaged in conversation with the brothers, he realized that this town, this place, offered him a chance to learn, to grow, and perhaps, to belong.
Balerion surveyed the lively and bustling setting around him, taking in the scene as the man in the wheelchair, warmly introduced the trio of blacksmiths in the workshop. "The blue one is Brok," Mimir began, pointing towards the figure leaning nonchalantly against the workbench. "He's the outspoken one, who isn't afraid to let that whirlwind of thoughts in his head spill out with unabashed honesty."
He motioned towards Brok's brother, who was seated at a safe distance from the forge, still looking a bit pale from an earlier incident. "And that's Sindri, his younger brother by a year or so," Mimir continued. "He's quite the opposite—much more reserved and polite, though definitely a bit germ-conscious, to say the least."
Brok let out a hearty laugh, acknowledging his friends words with a good-natured jab, while Sindri nodded, offering a shy, respectful smile.
"And as for myself, I am known as Mimir," he added, gesturing to his wheelchair. "Once a builder by trade, I was a good friend to these two until a rather unfortunate accident left me in my current state and force me to become their financial advisor. But enough about us," Mimir said with an encouraging smile. "Tell us, who might you two travelers be, and what brings you to our workshop?"
Balerion, sharing a quick glance with Ashley who stood by his side, introduced them both. "I'm Balerion, and this is Ashley," he began, his voice confidently resonating in the room. "We've been exploring this vibrant town, and we noticed your 'help wanted' sign outside. We're looking to see if our skills might be of service here."
Brok's eyes widened in a moment of recognition as they fell on Ashley. "Hey there! I knew I recognized you," he exclaimed, pointing at her with a mix of surprise and warmth. "I remember giving you a knife a while back. You seemed to have lost it, though. What's happened?"
Ashley smiled, grateful for his memory and concern. "Yes, I did. I'm afraid I had to leave it behind," she replied warmly, though her tone turned somber as Sindri added gently. "And it seems you've been through quite an ordeal. What's happened?"
Balerion, standing protectively beside Ashley, responded in her stead. "I found Ashley under some grave circumstances," he began, his voice taking on a serious edge. "She was in a cabin, threatened by three men intending to harm her. Fortunately, I was there in time to intervene and scare them off, but one of those brutes took her knife before fleeing."
Mimir, visibly perturbed by the account, shook his head in disgust. "I'm truly dismayed to hear of what you've endured, Ashley. You didn't deserve that. I'm sorry those miscreants put you through such an ordeal."
Ashley nodded, her expression softening in appreciation of their concern. "Thank you, Mimir," she replied, her voice steady but grateful. "And yes, Brok, I'm afraid I lost the knife when these men ambushed me. It was taken before Balerion came to my aid."
Brok gave a short, reassuring nod. "We'll see what we can do about getting you a replacement," he said, a firm promise in his voice, reflecting the collective support and camaraderie in the room.
In response to the recent setbacks at the workshop, Brok addressed the duo of newcomers. "Listen, we've hit a bit of a rough patch," he admitted honestly. "Earlier this week, the last person we hired ran off with all our savings and told us to eat shit."
Mimir added, "The shop's survival is only thanks to my personal savings," indicating the financial strains they faced. "Without turning things around soon, our royal family contracts might be in jeopardy and go to someone else."
Sindri tried to reassure the group, "The arrival of the new iron and silver could turn our fortunes if we focus on quality over quantity."
Brok was skeptical. "That could work… but it takes time, and I'm not sure how skilled you two really are. For all we know, you might turn out shit swords and fuck off weapons."
Balerion, eager to contribute, spoke up. "We're ready to do our best and learn," he assured Brok and the others.
Ashley chimed in, "You took a chance on me once, Brok. Give us a chance again. We're here to help."
In the warm glow of the workshop, Brok nodded thoughtfully at Balerion's and Ashley's eagerness to get involved. "Eager to learn, are ya? That's a good start," he remarked, a hint of respect threading his tone. "Well, let's see what you two are made of. We could use the extra hands. I'll do my best to get you up to par. Might even teach you a thing or two about crafting something that won't fall apart in your hands."
Sindri, always the practical one, chimed in with a sympathetic smile. "Don't worry," he added, "we have two spare beds upstairs. There're also some essentials you'd expect — like soap and whatnot, to make you feel at home."
Mimir, rolling closer in his wheelchair, added his own reassurance. "Pay may not be immediate, but you'll get your share once the money starts flowing. Trust us on it." His voice was kind, seeking to reassure them of future rewards.
As Ashley made her way upstairs to get cleaned up and settle into this new environment, Balerion lingered a moment longer. He was unexpectedly halted by the trio, as curiosity got the better of them.
"Balerion," Sindri ventured, a thoughtful expression on his face, "Where exactly are you from? You don't exactly seem like you're from around here."
Balerion paused, considering how much of his truth he wanted to share. "I'm from a very old land," he began, his tone holding the weight of history. "Where I come from, dragons are not just stories or symbols. They're real, flesh-and-blood creatures that can either bring hope or fear. It's a land of traditions and values quite distinct from these lands."
"I've see our current Queen create living breathing snowmen, freeze entire bodies of water to ice, cast snowstorms that can freeze man's balls off and much more but I'm curious to see what your home land had with its sorcerers and what did the dragons look like?" Ask Mimir. Balerion's response was somber, hinting at a sorrowful past.
"Sorcery brought ruin upon my home," Balerion said, his voice tinged with the weight of history and loss. "What creatures emerged, born out of magic and chaos, led to much suffering," he disclosed, exposing a vicious scar across his neck.
Sindri, sensitive to such things, turned pale at the sight and gagged involuntarily, while Brok, ever the pragmatist, stared in a mix of shock and admiration. "An injury like that should have put a normal man six feet under," he pointed out. "What kind of crazy son of a bitch manages to pull through a neck wound like that on you? Did they not know how to kill you properly, or are you just made of stronger stuff?"
With a stoic expression, Balerion simply replied, "Death can have me when it earns me," his resolve clear and unwavering. With those parting words, he went upstairs to seek rest and to check on Ashley, reflecting on his past in this new, unfamiliar world.
Balerion soon ascended the stairs and made his way to the room where Ashley had gone just moments earlier. After softly knocking on the door and receiving no response, he entered, eager to clean up to the best of his ability. It was a far cry from his days as a dragon, when dedicated keepers ensured his scales were polished and his health preserved.
As he removed his shirt, Balerion revealed a collection of scars that stretched across his new human form. Running his fingers along them, he noted their paths and pondered the battles they symbolized — reminders of a past life now supplanted by unfamiliar experiences.
He took off his boots and headed to the spare bedroom. Here, extra clothing awaited him neatly hung inside a generously sized closet beside an impressive, well-kept bed. Placing the clothes on a nearby chair, he paused to admire his reflection in a mirror hanging on the wall, contemplating this new world, this new form, and the peculiar humans he'd encountered.
"In this realm," he mused aloud, "I will discover what it means to be human, what distinguishes these people from my former Targaryen riders and dragon kin."
With a sense of resolution guiding him, Balerion approached the bed, and as he settled into its embrace, the day's adventures slowly melted away. Sleep beckoned, offering a reprieve from the whirlwind of sights and sensations that filled his newfound reality. At last, he drifted into slumber, a well-deserved respite from the world's ceaseless demands.
And that's the end of this chapter I hope you guys enjoy this and until next time it's chaoskeeten