Witch-Hunt
Garret ran as quietly and quickly as he could. The hunters were still behind. He could hear their shouts, but not their steps nor their breaths. Good sign. For now. The forest was thick, but his footprints remained. He had to go North, where there was still a bit of snow. He could easily get rid of his trail there.
The mix of familiar feelings intertwined in messy chaos with novel sensations: The frantic thumping in his chest, unstoppable and interminable, that almost made him jump with each pulse. His rapid but controlled breaths, pushing air with great force in and out of his lungs. The feeling of the wind whistling against his ears, as cold and violent as his memories. The taste of blood in his mouth, sour and rancid and so very recognizable. Pain in his lower back, new but no less acute. The tiredness in his left leg, heavy like it never had been before. The frail and soft woman in his arms, slightly shook with each of his steps through the forest.
If it wasn't for the shiny teardrops in the corner of her eyes, one would guess she was completely unmoved by the circumstances. However, Garret was sure that if she hadn't been already paralyzed by the serum, she'd have been by fear. This was a queen. And as strong as her magic was, she was no warrior. He didn't relish the sentiment, but he was happy she was sedated. He didn't want to deal with a potentially anxious-to-death Elsa on top of the witch-hunters after both their butts.
He lightly adjusted his grip on her shoulders, her ice dress flowing behind him.
Out of here first. We'll figure out what to do later.
He passed through a clearing and behind a tree. He leaned against the trunk, caught his breath, took some time to assess where he was.
Garret always liked to think that he could analyze a situation in a rational way. What he understood at that moment was clear: he was too slow. Elsa was lighter than he expected, but she wasn't weightless, and he was in poor condition himself. He could only keep running for so long, and judging by his last trip through here, the North Mountain was still at least an hour away.
He had to find something else, and he had to find it quickly.
As he rummaged through his head, he suddenly realized the shouts had died down. In fact, he heard nothing at all. Not a squirrel, not a bird, not even a bug. Not a good sign. Like his father had taught him years before, woods this quiet meant one thing: a predator was around.
A pack of wolves was a possibility in these regions, or maybe the hunters had shifted tactics. If he absolutely had to choose, Garret was sincerely hoping it would be the former, but he didn't plan to stick around enough to find out.
He pressed on, the framework of a plan taking shape in his mind. The land sloped uphill, and he distinctly remembered the plain that laid before the North Mountain being a bit below the tree line. If he could reach a vantage point, he would be able to go a lot more quickly—but a lot more painfully.
He started running once again, the woods around him as soundless as death. His own steps weren't usually noisy—he was rather light-footed by nature—but they now detonated among the tree barks around, blasting with each of his left leg's contact with the ground. He didn't have much control over that. He narrowed his eyes and concentrated on his path ahead when he heard a whimper.
He focused on the input and kept a sharp ear out. He brought his gaze down to the still woman he had been carrying up until then, from whom the little cries seemed to emanate.
"Garr…et…"
Elsa's eyes were locked on his face with newfound vigor. She was trying hard to make her words intelligible despite her breathless mouthing. "Ca…stle. A…nna."
His face fell harder than it ever did.
Even like this, she's worried about them first.
"We cannot go back now," he said as quietly as his panting allowed. "They're not in danger for now, but you are."
His heart clenched when the image of Jürden bleeding out on the shore flashed before him.
The trail of tears on Elsa's cheeks barely had time to dry before more fell down as she slightly choked up—or she seemed to, Garret couldn't exactly tell. "Pl…ease."
"I really can't take you back," he reluctantly admitted while resuming his hurried steps. There wasn't something he wouldn't have done to allow it, but it was simply far too dangerous. Most of Arendelle's guards were incapacitated and Roger's probably had at least two dozen more men judging from the attack. He already couldn't shake the three or four goons after them; several trained hunters would kill them both.
As soon as he finished the thought, he heard a small crack echo from his right. Someone had stepped on a twig, and it hadn't been him.
"Shit."
He dashed to the left as a dart whistled right where his neck had been. The projectile struck the tree behind him and vibrated with a buzz for a short time. Green liquid drizzled down the trunk from the tip and mixed with the sap that was forced out of the bark by the impact.
Curare darts.
But not ones for humans. These were strong enough to knock out a bull if their size was anything to go by. The hunters were given the orders to capture if possible but kill if necessary. At least for him.
The howl of wind reached his ears from his back. Garret focused and ice crackled and formed into a frozen weight under his right heel. With an incredible effort, he lifted his foot and pivoted. The hunter appeared exactly where Garret had guessed he would. The attacker's eyes widened as he fumbled too late to slow his momentum. His head smashed into the ice block and he fell to the ground head-first.
For the first time in a good while, Garret thanked his years in the army and the several months he had spent on the run—he wouldn't have perceived the faint footsteps otherwise.
He swept the area with his eyes and saw an opening that led to a cliff, steep and deep to deter his pursuers but not big enough for them both to die on the slide—that would be a bit funny to explain in the afterlife.
He knew the other hunters were still very much around and ready to strike. Garret couldn't see them, but he heard their boots dragging along the muddy soil from all sides. A classic triangle choke formation. Garret shook his head, the pain spreading and flaring across his entire body. He couldn't win. Not with Elsa in his arms and his injury in his back. Unless…
No! he thought as anger began to burn within him at the simple thought of using it. Never again.
His vitality renewed by his own fury, Garret ducked as two more darts swerved past him. He drove his legs forward, dashing away as fast as he could. For a moment, he forgot the pain and fear—they were replaced by an incredible sense of clarity. The one that filled his spirit whenever he knew something would work.
Elsa's breathing synced with every single one of his actions. She held her breath whenever he was airborne, she panted whenever he was running, she let out a small yelp each time something shook Garret's body. Somehow, the idea that she depended on him for everything made him try harder.
"You're not dying today. Not on my watch," he murmured, though it felt a lot like he was telling that to himself.
He dodged the trees as he went, side-stepping one, then two, then a dozen, before he noticed a henchman rapidly closing in. Something slammed at his side and he contained a cry of hurt. Garret pushed off the ground, jumping forward and narrowly avoiding the blade that slashed through the air behind him. He kicked the weight that was still attached to his foot away and landed on his back, once again muffling a pained growl, while the frozen block smashed into the hunters' knee and made him lose his balance as he tripped to the ground.
Garret strained himself up and resumed running, finally reaching the cliff and peering over the edge. Now that he was closer, the sinkhole did look a lot deeper and the slide a lot longer.
Come on, soldier. Everything went just fine last time, did it?
He conjured a frozen disc in front of him and winced when lucidity dissipated his thin delusive hopes—everything did definitely not go just fine last time.
Three different pairs of footsteps were barreling toward him. Toward Elsa.
Not having the time to convince himself that he didn't have a choice, Garret took two sharp breaths, coated most of his body with a thin sheet of crystal ice, held Elsa's body tighter against him and jumped.
The landing took his breath away in all the wrong senses. The surface was harder, the rocks sharper, and his velocity much bigger than he had expected. He gritted his teeth a bit more with every stutter and bump on the way, feeling them rattling his entire body, magnified through the lens of hurt despite the protective membrane. The descent was lasting a lot more than expected. He tried to keep Elsa as far up as he could while still avoiding the trees that popped up before his eyes. They dodged a final one before the ground began to level and they gradually slowed. Garret conjured his spear and planted it down to halt.
Garret gasped in pain. The fire in his lower back was now engulfing his entire torso, eating away at his flesh like relentless claws tearing through. He released the spear, letting it dissolve while breathing heavily.
Maybe it didn't work as well as intended, he thought as the feeling of searing daggers ripped through his backside. The large wound near his kidney now had a few friends, it seemed.
He glanced uphill. The now small and distant silhouettes of the hunters were on the edge of the cliff, visibly hesitating to follow. They eventually disappeared back into the forest.
Garret strained immensely to bring his torso up, but he found out as soon as he tried to stand upright that his legs and his lumbar muscles were trembling hard. Judging from the burning sensation that pulsed through every single nerve within them, they didn't have the strength to lift him. He pushed harder, involuntarily sending a shout of helplessness, to no avail.
Throwing a look at his surroundings as quickly as his tired neck allowed, he discerned the clear shape of a wooden roof a few hundred yards away, just after a small stream that peacefully ran its course amidst the woods.
"Garret…"
Elsa's voice was starting to return. It was still faint, but her words were no longer intangible; the serum's effect lasted a few hours at most, and its effects were apparently already starting to wane. He glanced down toward her. Her eyes were still on him, but this time he could clearly see worry among the sea of navy-blue. "You're…hurt."
"I'm okay," he lied through his teeth. The fact that he couldn't stand up was proof enough that he wasn't, but he still thought that maintaining a façade would help her keep calm.
Her gaze did not waver. "No… You're…hurt." Her fingers were trembling as if struggling to reach out.
He didn't let her try further: he had to step into that cabin. It wasn't safe and was probably the first place their pursuers would look, but he needed to rest, and it would be some time for the hunters to cut through the forest.
Come on! This is no place to take a breather, he thought, as if talking to his own body.
He summoned his deepest strengths, clenching his abs as hard as he could to force his torso upwards. Groaning in discomfort, he managed to sit correctly and bring his legs under him to stand up.
He lightly swayed as he walked, suppressing a wince with each step and purposefully avoiding Elsa's stare that was very certainly still drilling at his face.
The small cabin turned out to be a full-fledged store that seemed unoccupied. He could descry a few barrels and empty shelves through the window covered with a mixture of dirt, twigs and faded petals. Garret stopped a few feet away from the entrance to read the half-panel hammered to the roof with a curious eye. Someone had taken the name off.
"Wandering trade post?" he deciphered aloud, piecing together the missing letters.
Not very wandering, is it? Unless you fancy earthquakes…
He pushed the door open with his shoulder, making his way to an empty room covered in wooden planks and settling dust from the ground up.
One window, no back doors. We can stay here for a bit.
He gently placed Elsa's immobilized body against the wooden wall and sat on her right, his breath still short and jerky. He kept an ear and an eye out for the tiniest commotion on the outside but relaxed his shoulders.
His back was still burning, but he couldn't take care of that. He fought the fangs of obscurity that came tugging at his consciousness, trying to knock him out. He could power through the pain; he knew he could. He'd done that for three years now.
Seeing Roger again hadn't had that terrifying effect he had feared it would have on him. Everything had been on his mind so much for so much time, he didn't need the witch-hunter in front of him to remind him of what was his burden to shoulder. He silenced the echo of her screams and focused on where he was. The slight creaking of the wooden floor under his weight. The texture of his pants, where his hand was resting. The sound of Elsa's breathing, soft and soothing.
He closed his eyes for an instant. When he opened them again, what seemed to be a simple blink for him had apparently lasted much longer. The light that shone through the window was now reddish, the dusty glass dividing it into thousands of fine threads that cast the shadows of the surrounding summer leaves on the wall in front of him.
"Garret. Garret," Elsa called.
Her voice was now almost at its normal level, although she was clearly trying to keep it down to a whisper. He felt her small hand on his shoulder, softly squeezing him so that he did not sink a second time into the twists and turns of his own unconscious. He guessed the touch barrier had already been broken; she didn't have as much trouble with it as earlier that day. Also, threats of death.
He leveled tired eyes at her. She was now able to move, it appeared. Her legs were still frozen in place, but she had been able to turn her head in his direction.
"Stay with me, please," she asked, and only then did he notice the slight tremor in her timbre.
"I'm here," he said, surprised at how coarse he sounded. "I drifted out for a minute."
"That was a bit more than a minute," she corrected, though he did not hear the tinge of reproach he had expected. He could swear he heard concern and... relief.
He shuffled where he sat, straightening his position against the wall. "I guess the only thing I can do in front of you is pass out," he said with a fake laugh.
"That's not true," she half scolded. "You did a lot more behind and in front of me than you give yourself credit for."
He let out a chuckle at her solemn tone that felt good considering the circumstances. How she didn't catch any of the innuendos that she let out now and then was probably one of the most endearing things about the woman. He got a more precise look at her, studying her for any eventual injuries. He didn't find any on her pale skin, but she had cried again only a few moments prior if he was to trust the still fresh tears on her cheeks. He almost apologized but changed his mind at the last moment. Instead, he tried to anticipate her reaction and explain what he thought was the best course of action.
"I know you want to go back to Arendelle," he began, directly getting to the elephant in the room. "I know how hard it must be for you not to go to Anna and everyone else right now. But in our states, returning would be suic—"
"I know," Elsa interrupted with a determined glint. "I understand."
Garret didn't bother to hide his surprise on his face. He let his jaw drop for a moment before continuing. "You do?"
"Yes. We cannot go back now."
"All right, then."
"We can rest a little and go right after. Right?"
Oh. That's not…
"Not really. We won't be able to go back for a while. At least a few days. Maybe weeks."
It was her turn to look surprised. "What do you mean? Why?"
"Because we're who they want. We have to get you to a safe place first. The others are not in immediate danger."
Elsa looked like he had just suggested burning the entire country down. "I'm afraid that is not happening."
"What would you say is going to happen, then?" he asked, his voice a bit more irritated.
"We are going back and freeing my people and my family as soon as I get my magic back!" Elsa asserted with vigor, her face shining with the sun's crimson tint that crept into the room. "Though I still cannot feel anything in my legs even if I try to move them… How long is this supposed to last?"
Garret frowned. "A few hours in total for your body, can't say for your powers. He must have underdosed this one since you're light, but I've never been hit with it myself." He came back to the important subject immediately after. "Your Majesty. They want to burn you. And trust me, they will if they find you. You saw how easily they cut through the castle's defenses. Even with your magic, I'm not sure we would be able to bypass them. They have defensive terrain, and they know me well enough to plan accordingly. Now isn't the time for heroics."
She mirrored his scowl, imperceptibly leaning away and taking her hand off his shoulder. "I'm not trying to be a hero! I am doing my duty as queen! Arendelle is under my protection!"
"Your protection won't mean much to them if you're a corpse!" He sensed that his voice had risen up in volume almost unwillingly.
"And because of that, I should just flee and leave them to figure out how to deal with these foreigners?!"
"It's because, if you don't, those foreigners will happily fight among themselves for the killing blow!"
"They have my family!"
"They won't do anything to them!"
"They hit Jürden!" Elsa burst out, letting her voice carry both anger and sorrow. Garret immediately backed down slightly as the little beads in the corner of her eyes reappeared. "I saw him, on the ground…" she continued with a hiccup, her gaze dropping to the parquet under her. "I can't let that happen to anyone else. Never again."
They stayed silent for a moment, their breaths short. Garret brainstormed something to say, anything, but couldn't bring himself to open his mouth.
Elsa eventually blinked back her tears and adorned the serious face that didn't look quite natural on her. Garret found himself missing that perfect smile of hers already. "Even if my powers are not enough, wouldn't yours help? Can you not summon armor?"
His heart sank in disbelief before he remembered that he had let her into his own memories. She must have seen it there.
"I…I can't," he simply answered.
"You can't?"
"No."
Again, curt and quick. He didn't want to dwell on the matter.
"You were able to when you were still a soldier!"
Her voice wasn't the same: she was giving him orders disguised as questions. Just like his father did. But her tone was more pleading than commanding.
"That was a long time ago."
"Even with my aid?"
"Please, don't insi—"
"It would help us tremendously!"
"I'm not using it."
"It's our best bet for now!"
"My mother died because of the damned thing!" Garret involuntarily snapped. He didn't like his voice whenever he was angry; there was a bitterness in his outbursts that shocked him every time—and evidently Elsa too, since she had drawn back wide-eyed. There was one advantage, however—it helped focus his anger. There was comfort in it, cold authority that called him back to days long gone. "I'm not using it," he added softly, gradually calming down.
He settled back in his place and cursed at his slip up. It was too late to pretend it didn't happen though. They returned to a heavy silence, letting their strife evaporate in the tense atmosphere that reigned.
"I…I apologize," Elsa started a minute later as her stare turned a lot less abrasive. "I didn't want to… To press you for anything hurtful."
Again, the pair stayed silent, both quietly watching the opposite wall like a painting in a gallery.
The robins outside were still chirping happily, but their careless insouciance—whose absence would have served as a warning signal to Garret—would only last for an hour or two before they got back to their nest.
"This isn't really the time to get upset with each other," Garret said. "We're far from being out of danger."
"I-I also didn't wish to imply you had to come," Elsa said, visibly trying to hide both her disappointment and her helplessness. "You already have been an incredible help and it wouldn't be fair of me to ask you to accompany me."
Garret's eyes widened. "You–You'd go without me?"
"Of course, if I have to."
"You're not scared?" he asked incredulously. He wasn't really listening to his own voice; his question had come out on its own. He concentrated on her hands, now joined on her lap; shaking, as expected.
Elsa's features slightly softened and she lifted her navy eyes to his. "I… I am, truthfully. I am terrified. Beyond anything I could have ever felt. But the people out there—my people—are hostages to that man," she replied. "I just cannot flee. I will fight for them. Always."
She's planning to go alone against Pete-knows how many armed men, potentially without her powers. How could she not be scared?
Garret scanned her face intently. Her eyes were burning blue, flashing with a light from within that grew like the sun's early rays. He could discern a mixture of terror and resolve in them, yet these weren't the eyes of a soldier. Just a young woman that couldn't bear to know her family in danger for a single second. With deep breaths, he released all the tension that had built up inside him like London's steams.
Of the two, Anna was clearly the hothead, the one he'd naturally associate with unadulterated courage—he easily pictured her brandishing her weapon in revolt and jumping to the heart of the fight without a second thought. But Elsa, he had come to learn, would have that second thought, then a third, then a fiftieth, and with each of them fear would creep up more and more, seeping into every potential movement she'd envisioned. It only added to the great respect that he started sensing within himself for her when crossing her shaken but strong-willed gaze. Bravery wasn't the absence of fear: it was the force of the conviction one had to overlook it.
She's something else.
"I apologize too, for… you know. Shouting. It was a dumb move on my part. I got a little worked up because of everything that's happened. They are… He wouldn't have wanted…" he left his sentence hanging in the air. He didn't have to add to the dread she was certainly already feeling by reminding her of Jürden. "Still," he started again. "I maintain that going alone and immediately would only make you the easiest target they've ever had. Is there any actual chance I can talk you out of it?"
"I do not share many traits with my sister, but we are both very stubborn."
Garret had readied a reply that he immediately forgot when he noticed the perfect silence that reigned outside. He yanked a hand up to let Elsa understand that something was off, before bringing his index finger to his lips. She immediately complied by sealing her eyes shut and swelling her cheeks after taking a long breath. In any other context, it would have been the absolute cutest display Garret had ever witnessed—he even allowed the phantom of a smile to graze the corner of his lips—but he had other concerns on his mind.
He stood to the window, scanning the zone around the shack. No sign of anyone. But the sun was still over the horizon, the birds wouldn't have left so early. He hastily got back to Elsa's side.
"I'll have to go out for a minute to check it out. Don't move till I come back, all right?" Elsa threw a curious glance his way, then to her legs. He understood a bit too late that his remark was slightly, somewhat, definitely inconsiderate. "Sorry," he winced.
"It's alright. I think I'm starting to sense them again."
She wiggled her feet a little to prove her point.
"Good."
Elsa then watched him as he headed outside, quietly opening the door and quickly checking his immediate environment.
"Be–" she started in a whisper. He closed the door, having not heard her. "–careful."
Elsa sat quietly, awaiting his return.
She brought her arms around herself, the sound of creaking planks and wind blowing between them her only company. Her left hand lifted almost unconsciously, letting her gaze linger upon it. The way it had naturally come to his shoulder when she thought that he hadn't been there anymore now surprised her. Even more surprising was how it didn't burn her this time. With everyone else, the heat would become a bother at some point—only Anna would have the privilege of extended contact. Not this time. For once, she didn't fear to ice the person she touched to death.
His magic, surely.
A minute passed, then two, then five, then ten.
She was growing restless, not taking her eyes off the door. Her thoughts zigzagged between Garret and Arendelle, each not settling her nerves in the slightest. She pictured Anna and Kristoff, trembling in fear inside their room, wondering where she was. She saw Kai, Gerda, Oaken, Greta and everyone else in the main square, kneeling just under the statue of her grandfather, their protests silenced by blades of sharp steel. Her heart broke when she recalled Jürden's shocked and strained expression as he laid on the ground. Her hand clenched into a fist.
She had to come back.
The sound of the door opening startled her, and she reflexively called for her ice, only to remember that it wasn't there, and wouldn't be for a little while. Fortunately for her, the one intruding on her solitude was Garret.
He didn't let her utter a single word.
"They're coming. The four from earlier," he said simply. "We have to get out of here." His eyes were focused, not unlike the day her ice castle had been leveled off the side of the North Mountain. "Can you walk?"
She tried moving her legs. They were answering, but they were still numb. "I can probably stand, but I wouldn't bet on my ability to run."
He surprised her by flashing a small relieved smile. "That's good enough." He then proceeded to lift her in his arms as he had done during their flight, eliciting a small yelp, her face flushing with that strange heat once again. She repressed the urge to throw herself out of his grasp in time. "Oh, maybe I should have warned…" he apologetically said, his brows slightly arched in honest worry.
"It–It's okay," she said, her face burning. She didn't fear contact but this was still unsettling.
They exited the shack in a hurry and delved into the silent forest before coming to a halt near a large oak whose width exceeded her shoulders'. The soldier gently let her down on her feet and against its bark, giving quick peeks right and left every other second.
"To keep things short and sweet, we can take them out if we work at it together," he whispered. Elsa shakily nodded in understanding, waiting for his instructions. "For that, we're sort of setting a trap. I'm going to be the bait—"
Wait, what?
"You're the bait?! You're the competent one here! I should be the bait!" Elsa murmured back a bit more angrily than she intended.
He lifted his eyebrows in dumbfounded confusion, looking at her strangely for a few seconds. "Can you dodge crossbow bolts?" he asked.
The question had come out of nowhere. Elsa wanted to say she could, but the situation demanded that she be honest with him and herself. She quickly dismissed the thought. "N-No, I can't…"
"Can you fight an armed mercenary alone in the almost-dark? Without your powers?"
"Not really…"
"Can you run?"
"No…"
Garret took a step forward, his green gaze pouring into her with the intensity of the pole star. "Can Arendelle—and Anna—afford to lose you?"
She shook her head.
"Then, I'm the bait."
She pursed her lips, knowing that he wasn't going to budge on that particular matter. It didn't diminish the slight hurt that last sentence had brought up. "Okay, okay. I understand. But that point wasn't very fair."
Garret looked sheepish for a moment or two. "It wasn't the most tactful, I'll give you that. But war isn't fair," he finally said as he continued to throw glances to the side. "Here's what we're going to do. The strongest weapon is Lady Patience, so we're going to use her. Since you can't really move, you're going to stay here." He then concentrated, clasping his hands as light emerged between them. While they slowly separated, the shape of an elongated block of ice appeared in front of her, larger on one side than the other: an ice cudgel, which he handed to her as soon as it was finished. "There. You can use that."
She examined the weapon, wide-eyed. "What am I supposed to do with this?"
"I can take care of two of them alone, but the two others would then converge on me at the same time and I'd be overrun. If I send them here instead and you take them out, we'd be free for a bit."
Elsa's mind had trouble processing what he was asking of her. "Me? Take—Take them out? Like a brutish thug?"
Garret opened his mouth. "Exactly," he said with a nod and a shrug after a few seconds in thought. "But don't worry about it, the club's light. It won't kill them, just knock them out cold. And I'll try to time the hits for you. I chose this tree because it's recognizable; I'll keep an eye on it. I'll throw an arrow right here to 'guide' them; they hunt in pairs, so that'll bring the first two at your right, and you can strike as soon as you hear me whistle. The whistles will give the other two my location, but I should be able to handle them. Is everything clear?"
Elsa blinked at the sheer amount of information he had just dumped on her, but she nonetheless had grasped the intricacies of his plan. It was a good plan.
If I manage to do my part, she thought as her gaze traveled up the club's crystal-clear structure.
As if answering her doubts, Garret put a hand on the shaft, bringing her eyes to his once again. He had surely noticed how her entire body had started shaking. "I know you can do this," he said. "You're stronger than you think you are."
"I am?" she asked weakly.
He just gave a sharp nod, and that simple gesture slightly reinvigorated her. The shaking didn't stop, but she didn't dread what was coming as much. He didn't see her as the dead weight she probably was.
"I'll—I'll try."
"That's all I need. And just so you don't freak out too much, these guys look like they're a bit slow on the uptake. They're–"
"–trained but not very bright?" she finished with a small smile.
He gave her a quick grin of his own in response.
A faint rustle that even she could hear suddenly drew Garret's attention behind the tree. He checked on her, giving her a thumbs-up to silently ask one last time if she was ready. Sensing that she didn't have much choice, she nodded in turn, and he disappeared almost immediately amidst the growing obscurity with a shimmer of the air.
She closed her eyes, anxiously watching out for any sound around her. The atmosphere hung heavily, its weight reinforced by the complete silence enveloping the woods. She was anticipating a whistle; she heard a thump at her feet that made her jump and suppress a little cry that came dangerously close to escaping past her lips. She half-opened her eyelids to see one of Garret's frozen arrows planted into the very ground.
An instant later, the whistle echoed, banging against her eardrums like a war horn. She didn't think twice before slamming the cudgel at her right with all her might, feeling it impact with a crash against something. The hit's vibration shook her arm with its force, sending a shockwave across her entire body. A loud thud followed, as well as a surprised gasp that wasn't hers.
"Connor!"
An unknown voice. Another long whistle. Another slam. Another crash. Another thud.
Panting from the adrenaline that was pulsing through her limbs, she finally dared to open her eyes fully, and was greeted by two unconscious bodies lying on top of each other. Wearing fur coats that seemed too hot and too heavy for the season, she noticed the same seal that had allowed her to identify Hopkin's Blessed a week ago. The hand, the birthmark, the golden color; everything was the same, except for the missing motto.
A shout from a very known voice interrupted her thoughts.
"Garret!" she exclaimed. He wasn't far, and he needed help. She spun, seeking the cry, dizzying herself, hoping to glimpse him between distant trees.
She tried lifting her foot off the ground, and it surprisingly answered. The other followed, then the first again, and soon enough she was running toward where the scream had come from.
She meandered aimlessly for a little while, sensing the vein in her neck throbbing as she nervously scanned every single tree. For the longest time, her own wheezing crushed every other sound, but slowly, ever so slowly, she allowed other noises to break through. There was a stream away at her right and crows in the trees, their wings cracking the air as they took flight.
Elsa neared a small clearing, and as she was about to pass the last tree, one of the hunters popped out from behind it with his crossbow armed opposite from her, looking as surprised as she was. With a scream of stupor, Elsa raised her ice club and swung, driving it to the side of his face. The man staggered under the blow. She heard another commotion ring through the blood's roaring in her ears, but she didn't stop to question it. Elsa struck again as fast as her arms allowed, only for her to meet air as she got carried away by her momentum.
The hunter had fallen limply to the ground, a small ice shard sticking out from the back of his shoulder and a heavier looking mace planted in the grass below. Behind him, Garret was on the ground as well with his arm outstretched, mist escaping from the tips of his fingers and the side of his face as small frozen blocks hissed away. At his right was another mercenary, face down on the mud. The soldier was gasping heavily for air, clutching his left side with a clear wince.
"My—My bad. You can run. And I—I couldn't really...handle two of them."
"Garret!" Elsa called with worry, her heart racing inside her chest. She let the ice club plunge to the ground and hurried at his side, kneeling on the humid soil. "Are you okay?"
"I'm tempted to—to say yes… But I wouldn't look…very convincing, would I?" he joked with a strained voice as he brought his torso up. "They weren't complete idiots. They saw pretty much instantly where my weak point was. And I think the bandages behind loosened up a bit…"
Elsa immediately went to his back and slowly lifted his shirt. He began to object but settled down when she threw him a harsh glare. She shifted her glance back to the injury.
The bandages were indeed undone, but the gigantic gash that ran across the bottom of his back seemed unharmed—the scar had not reopened at the very least.
She was expecting a few other notches—there were bound to be more bruises from the slide through the rocks and sharp pebbles from earlier alone.
What she didn't expect were all the scars tracing through his back. Long, short, discreet, profound. Some were new, others were old and faded; there were at least twenty of them. She gulped.
"I'm going to… I'm going to tighten it back," Elsa said.
"We better get out of here first. They're down for now, and we have to take this opportunity to create as much distance with them as possible."
He then tried to stand up, a vein appearing in his neck from the effort. Elsa let his shirt fall back and hastily stepped to his side and gave him the support he needed to get back on his feet.
"Thanks," he muttered with a grateful smile.
"You-You're welcome," she replied with her gaze down while he lightly created icy shackles around their aggressors' extremities.
Then, the pair scurried out of the clearing, stepping over the unconscious bodies, and walked. They walked for a long time. Without a single word. The obscurity was now complete, so much so that she had to show Garret how to continuously summon his magic to create a makeshift lamp.
Elsa's mind blanked for the entire duration of their voyage. The only thing she was certain of was how far she was from her home. She wanted to play her insane day back in her head just like she always did, but she had realized just how hungry she was and that she couldn't think of anything else than her next step, focusing the little energy she had left into not letting Garret out of her sight.
Her forehead almost bumped into said man's nape. He had inadvertently stopped right in the middle of his tracks.
"Oh!"
"Sorry, majesty. Should have warned about this one too…" he said. He then lifted his finger to their left, where the faint light spreading from his open palm allowed Elsa to make out the unclear contour of a cave's entrance. "We can stay there tonight. Do you know how to light a fire?" he asked.
She nodded. She had never tried it before, but she knew the basics from that book about the more indigenous tribes that inhabited the northern parts of the land: she needed some rocks, a few branches, and open air. All of which were fortunately in abundance around her.
"You're full of surprises," Garret said, his grin the same fake and tired one he had been displaying since the day she had met him. "I'll try to fetch us something to eat, you can handle the fire?"
He had phrased it like a suggestion to be approved by her, but she knew he was the voice that mattered in their situation.
She couldn't pinpoint exactly why he'd act like that, but a part of her wanted it to be because he'd wished to keep their interactions on a familiar standpoint. It wasn't much, but it did warm her heart a tiny tidbit.
She now knew he wasn't that type of man, but how he hadn't just dumped her on the floor and fled far away was still a question that she couldn't shake off her mind, along with another.
Was he ever as merciless as Grand Pabbie made it sound?
After she agreed, Garret disappeared into the night as soon as she had everything she needed and came back half an hour later holding a very rough frozen bowl filled with blue and blackberries, and what looked like a small piece of raw meat.
He had surely captured a rabbit, and the fact that he had bothered to butcher the animal far from her eyes was another subtle and thoughtful little detail that somewhat lifted her spirits despite the dreary circumstances.
"I had trouble finding much else," he said as he neared the improvised camp. "I know this is not a very refined meal, but I think it'll allow you to use your powers again. At least a little."
Wait… That's why they wouldn't respond?
"What, you didn't know that?" he asked with a small chuckle, obviously noticing the air of shock all across her face. She stared at him like a cat in front of a wool ball as he gently settled the food at her side and put the meat over the fire with—quite oddly—closed eyes. "I guess you didn't have that many occasions to feel very hungry…" he said with a lighthearted shrug. "I found that if I'm starv—if I don't have enough energy, the ice just won't come out. You were paralyzed too. I suppose that didn't help either."
Elsa gazed upon her hands, examining her long and slender fingers as if discovering an entirely new part of her body. She indeed never had to suffer long-term hunger, and she did try to suppress her powers for most of her life.
The fire crackled with a furrow of sparks, its brilliance piercing the cavern's darkness like a lighthouse's beam would the night sea's heavy mist.
Garret sat a bit further from the small flames than she'd first assumed and crossed his legs. "Please, go ahead," he said.
"You're not eating?" she asked.
"I can go pretty long without food," he explained. "That's nowhere near enough for two, and we'll need your powers more than we'll need mine tomorrow."
"But I can't!" Elsa exclaimed. "You have to—Wait, my powers?"
"Yes, yours. I already told you, you're leagues ahead of me, Your Majesty. Using your powers instead of mine will lift the odds to not-so-ridiculously-low-you-could-step-on-them levels once things get serious."
He met her eyes with his, and the fire that reflected in his pupils was only overshadowed by the sadness beading through the green flashes.
"Still–"
"Majesty, please. Let me be stubborn too."
She let the hands she had lifted fall back to her lap. "At least, let me tighten back those bandages."
He kept his eyes on hers with a small smile. "Yes, I forgot about that," he said. He turned around, freeing his back from the cavern's moisty walls and lifting the bottom of his shirt slightly as she approached and knelt behind him. She was greeted by the rough skin again.
Elsa busied herself carefully, folding and turning pieces of fabric over to close the rolls of tissue around yet another wound caused by her ice. Her movements were slow, precise, meticulous, but her eyes were fixed on the low and earthbound face of the soldier before her.
Garret exhaled hoarsely, the sound vibrating his own back like an earthquake. Elsa knew her way around a sigh, and this one was definitely not one of relief, nor relaxation.
When finished, she let gentle fingers drag over the bandages.
"It is done," she said as she pulled away while the hem of his shirt fell over his injury.
"Thank you, Your Majesty."
Elsa quietly walked back to her place beside the bonfire and sat in an unpleasant silence for a few minutes.
She didn't know why she felt the urge to ask what she then asked. Maybe it was the sight of his scars, the way he had snapped earlier in the afternoon, or his anxiety attack even before. Maybe it was Grand Pabbie's warning, or maybe it was her natural curiosity.
Maybe it was the armor, the fact that he still had his leg when he became a knight, the idea that he fought for his country, lost his mother. Maybe it was the memories of that village, of those children. And maybe it was that sigh; the sigh which had such a familiar ring to it that it still surprised her he had been the one to heave it.
She recognized something in the way he hung his head low. The way he brought himself down at every opportunity. The way she had done all that herself, not that long ago. For all accounts, it was like gazing at a mirror.
He was her without Anna.
Elsa took inspiration from her own several-hours-prior self and saw him stiffen when she spoke softly.
"What happened the day you lost your leg?"
A/N: I hope you enjoyed this one! Thank you Grand_Paladin for reviewing this chapter!
I'm taking a few interpretation liberties with canon on this one. Elsa's powers were never stated to be in direct correlation with her physical state, but they were never stated to not be correlated either. I'm taking the route where it makes the most sense (if they're impacted by her emotions, why not her physical state?). I will someday talk about my opinion of Frozen II - since, as I believe I already said, I'm planning a rewrite with significant changes - but I was disappointed we weren't given answers to questions like these.
Also, exams. Again. I'll do my best to upload in time, but I, unfortunately, cannot promise anything, especially since I live in Europe and everything is on lockdown. I'm adamant I take my time editing my chapters since English isn't my first language, and the exams will take priority.
Anyway, if you want to put yourself in the mood for the next chapter, search Moonsong by Adrian Von Ziegler on YouTube. And, I know I didn't specify it, but Bonnie Banks is indeed what Garret's mum sings to him :D.
That's all for now.
Peace and stay safe,
CalAm.