AN: Yeah, this one's at the start. Just a quick disclaimer: this chapter will handle the themes of depression and self-loathing. I don't know if it's explicit or very explicit, but I'm putting this here just in case it's a trigger for you. Otherwise, please enjoy it!
Worthless
Roger stood proudly in the room, hearing his lieutenant's report with an attentive ear.
"How is he?"
"Last time I checked, they got the bleeding under control but I'm not sure he'll make it," Jack said. "The bullets hit an artery, and he's lost a fair amount of blood. For a guy that old, I'm honestly surprised he's still alive. The castle nurses are doing what they can, but I've seen younger men die of smaller stuff. Looks complicated if you want my opinion."
Roger's face fell. "Are those nurses supervised?"
"Yes. McRean and Hutry are watching over them. The princess and her…her guy, I guess? are with them too. The others are in the main hall with the other Arendellians, along with…the crazy one," Roger's lieutenant said with a light tap on his forehead.
"Thank you, Jack."
"Another thing. The princess said she wanted to talk to you."
The princess?
Roger threw a glance to Jack over his shoulders. "About what?" he asked.
"Negotiations. Allegedly. I'd be careful. People here are weird."
There was something about that lass. She earned his respect after he saw the way she had stormed on him and his men earlier on that shore without a single ounce of fear in her gaze. Even more so, after two strong fellows failed to contain her. An impressive feat for someone so small. She was a lioness; someone he should avoid underestimating.
"Bring her in," Roger said.
His lieutenant nodded and exited the room, leaving his commander and chief hunter alone with his mind.
Damn that rat, Roger thought with a clench of his fists.
There was one rule he'd never break. One rule that made him do what he did and pushed him to so many sacrifices. One rule he had sworn to follow ever since his brother had been made a martyr.
No creature of God would ever die by his group's actions or its inaction. Witches, demons, monsters, all would be purified through fire. Humanity, however, was innocent. Humanity he would protect.
And that shit-eating excuse of a duke had nearly made him break that rule when he fired a gun at the poor old fighter's side. He knew he was a madman; he had guessed that the second he laid eyes upon him. The constant fidgeting and the savage eyes at the mere mention of the witch were proof enough, but now this…
Roger had only accepted this contract and worked with the duke because he lacked the means to purify the Snow Queen on his own. The Eternal Winter was a testament to how dangerous this woman was, how urgent it was to deal with her.
But even then, he couldn't ignore the sins committed in front of him. Nor the profound and nauseating disdain he felt for that loathsome manlet.
Roger spun his pistol out of its holster on his hip and sighed at the smears of blood along the barrel. He grabbed a handkerchief on the table at his right and meticulously wiped away the traces of the abominable act the frenzied duke had perpetrated.
Sheathing it carefully, he looked at his surroundings. He cared little for sumptuous decorations, but he had to admit that the room was of particularly good taste. The draperies were fine and well woven, linked together by braided linen threads that hung lazily above a bed with discreet but detectable ornaments. The desk was polished and of noble wood - oak or mahogany perhaps? Roger could see two books dealing with trade treaties with the Southern Isles as well as European military orders of the previous century.
The queen's room was well-lit, well-furnished and well-placed in the castle's layout. He thanked its architects for such a simple and clear structure; he wouldn't have found it as easily otherwise.
He smiled despite himself at how well his plan had worked. Though he had been lucky he brought the Ichtioandre rebreather prototype with him – that Frenchman was probably very happy with the generous compensation – everything else worked according to plan. All his pawns had moved in perfect sync. Waiting an entire week had given the castle enough time to think they were winning, and the fake cannon firing, as well as all the ensuing mayhem, allowed his men through the gates.
Had it not been for that satanic Armored Demon, he would have accomplished his mission by now.
Roger lifted his eyes to look beyond the window at the stunning scenery of the slumbering and dimly lit fjord before him. The sentinels he had deployed had still not returned. Sending more troops wouldn't have helped if they weren't caught already, they were likely beyond reach. He wished he could've prepared more.
But there lay the benefit of occupying the castle. Doubt was the only thing he needed. And, as pained as he was to admit it, the fact that the old counselor had been injured in front of the two ice-wielders showed that he was dangerous. From the little he knew about the witch, he was certain she would come back. The Demon he wasn't so sure about, but he could go after him later if he had to. The prize, for now, was the Snow Queen.
The door behind him creaked open. He slowly turned around as Jack appeared with an angry and growling princess whose hands were bound behind her back.
"I can walk on my own, you filthy–"
"Highness," Roger said with a bow.
The princess whirled her head toward him and spat on the floor. "Shagbag."
He ignored the disrespectful slur–the circumstances and her temperament made it understandable, if not distinguished. "Let her go, Jack. Please."
His lieutenant nodded and obeyed, setting her free then blocking the punch that she threw at the side of his face immediately after with ease. Jack forced her fist down and lifted an eyebrow. Roger knew he'd be delighted to continue the exchange of courtesies. He shook his head, notifying his lieutenant of his disapproval.
"Please, Princess. I admire your verve but be careful not to turn it into foolishness."
She seemed to settle down a bit, still eyeing the way larger man behind her with unhidden disgust and contempt.
"I don't listen to advice from lowlifes like you."
"Then, as is tradition among lowlifes, you won't mind if I don't listen to what you have to say."
"Wait," she objected hurriedly when Jack took a step toward her, her eyes still spitting lightning bolts in his direction. "Whatever it is you're getting paid, we'll give you double if you leave. No strings attached."
Roger stayed silent for a moment. He then scoffed loudly.
"You really want to take this offer right now," she added, her tone low and gruntled.
"You don't even know how much that is, highness."
"I don't care how much, I'll pay it! Just leave Elsa and Arendelle alone. You've done enough harm."
Roger observed the princess' face. Flushed cheeks, reddened ears, pursed lips. By the looks of it, she almost seemed like she was repressing tears. Her hands at her sides were noticeably shaking. Despite that, her eyes remained focused on his.
What a strange mix of anger and fear.
"I'm afraid that's not how it works," he said. "I understand your reasoning, though. We have fewer men, but all your able-bodied fighters are unarmed, and above all, we have you. Ah, the joys of well-established monarchies. The problem with beloved leaders is that if you take them down, their followers fall with them. So, you know your people won't rebel. Next best thing? Bribery! Really, it does make sense. But no. Money was never the core of the matter, you see?"
The princess snared at him further. Her words came out like venom out of a snake's fangs. "What do you want, then?"
"I thought it was clear enough, but I'll lay it down for you. We want to burn the witch."
Anna stepped forward, her irises blazing. "What did she ever do to you? Leave her be!" Jack didn't let his eyes off her. He was ready to jump in at the faintest sign of danger.
"She didn't do anything to me," Roger said with a small smile as he lifted his hand to rest on his chest. "She did to you."
"Wha–No, she didn't!"
"So, I suppose that white streak in your hair was just you feeling stylish today."
The princess' hand snapped up to hide the small witness of the witch's destructive impulse. "She didn't mean it," she gnarled.
"Then, what about the Winter? Did she ever think about anyone else when she created that storm? Or did she also 'not mean it'?" Roger air quoted.
"You don't know her. I do. She'd never mean to hurt anyone."
"And Eve never meant to send us all out of Eden, yet here we are. The problem isn't the will or the intent, highness. The problem is what actually happens."
The princess dashed forward, her teeth bared and knuckles ready to strike. Jack stopped her mere inches away from Roger's face.
"You are telling me that?! How can you–How dare you–" she suddenly burst out with a hiccup, tears starting to stream on her cheeks. The princess let all her unhindered rage out. "You dare tell me that the problem is what she does?! He was protecting her! You shot him while he was protecting her! He's gone because of you!"
Roger's mind froze for a few seconds and his throat tightened into an almost painful knot. All the justifications he had prepared vanished, and he was overcome by a sensation of emptiness. "He died?"
"You KILLED him!" the princess howled in evident pain. She was still trying to come at him, her fury unfazed by the huge arms holding her back. Her expression had changed. The anger was there, but the other half was different.
No, it hadn't changed. He was just seeing it properly now.
It's not fear. It's sadness.
Roger looked at his lieutenant for confirmation. Above the tuft of red hair, Jack nodded grimly without another word. The poor old man was indeed gone.
He dropped his gaze to the ground and stood a bit taller. He couldn't allow her to see that it was affecting him.
"She will die, Princess. You'd better come to terms with that. At the very least, take solace in the fact that your kingdom will be free of sorcery when I'm done. I trust you'll be a good leader to your people," Roger said with solemnity. "Get her out of here and bring me whoever's in charge of the castle's management," he ordered his second-in-command.
"You'll never catch her! She'll blast you off! She'll make you pay!" she shouted finally, struggling like a tiger in Jack's grip as he lifted her off the ground and dragged her out. She threw frantic knuckles the whole way while her tears mingled with sweat down her face. "No! Let me down right now! I swear to–You won't get her!" her voice broke when the door slammed behind her, her cries still traversing the beige planks.
Roger turned back to the stainless window overlooking the kingdom. He took his eyepatch off, letting his left eye adapt to the faint halo that flickered in the room. He dragged two fingers over his forehead, his shoulders and the middle of his chest in a cross-shaped movement and joined his palms together after he closed his eyes.
"Father of all. Grant to him eternal rest. Let your light forever shine upon him. May his soul and the souls of all the departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace," he prayed, a single stray tear slowly drifting over his face.
When he opened his eyes back again, he stared in surprise at how much his hands shook. A thin veil clouded his thoughts, but the face of the duke emerged through the mist. He had to contain his wrath.
Someone knocked. Roger hastily wore his eyepatch and linked his hands behind his back, allowing himself to calm down. As soon as he gave the authorization to enter, Jack stepped in with a heavy foot, dragging a plump and terrified looking man by the collar.
"Easy there… That is a fine suit, we don't want it ruined for the gentleman, do we?" he warned Jack, his gaze hard. "Who am I talking to?" he then asked the newcomer.
The man kept quiet, glaring with narrowed eyes. Jack answered in his stead.
"This is Kai. Some scared kid told me he was the chamberlain."
"Very well, Sir Kai. Silence will not do you any favors, so I suggest you answer my questions, please. First, is it true that your kingdom lost someone tonight?"
Another silence. Kai was sweating profusely, and his eyes darted everywhere in the room except on him. While the princess had been difficult to read, the chamberlain was much more transparent. He was scared shitless, but he was trying – and spectacularly failing – not to show it.
Is everyone in this godforsaken kingdom this hard-headed?
Roger sighed. "You have my word that no harm will come to you or anyone here because of your answers."
He already knew the answer to his question, but he needed to see the man tell something he was certain was true.
He had never been an adept of the more imperious methods, but they proved quite effective from time to time – especially in situations like these. He signaled with a quick nod to his lieutenant.
Jack gave Kai a forceful push on the shoulder, strong enough to startle him. "Answer. The. Questions," he growled between his teeth.
"Sir… Sir Jürden left us… Thirty minutes ago," he finally conceded, his gaze low.
"I see," Roger answered. "Are there any special rituals that are accomplished for the departed?"
Kai lifted a curious glance his way. "What?"
"I'm asking you if there is anything that you usually do to honor those who rise to the heavens. This Jürden died defending his liege. While she is a monster, I respect his dedication, and he deserves to be remembered like the warrior he was."
Kai stared at him in silence.
"Do you not wish to properly bury him? Or incinerate him?" Roger asked in confusion.
"We…do have a few rituals."
"What are they?"
"We…" He stopped, wary and doubtful. Kai's hesitation was understandable, but Roger was still growing impatient.
"Speak, damn it!" Jack dangerously muttered.
"All right, all right! There are…three different parts. We ring the bell of Arendelle to call the spirits to him and grant him passage to the higher plane. Then we erect a runestone in his memory on his burial site. After…After all that, because he was a government member and a close friend of the royal family, we drape a black veil over his portrait."
Roger acquiesced solemnly. "Understood. You have the permission to proceed to all of that. Jack? Please see to it. They have to be accompanied through everything."
"As you wish," his lieutenant answered. "Let's go, old man. You have things to do."
Once again, Jack left the room with a hostage. Roger took a few moments to reorganize his thoughts. Death was something he never liked to deal with, but he couldn't deny what he had to do.
His path was clear. Retribution was due. And he was her vessel.
Garret glanced back at Elsa with wide eyes. She wanted to know? About his leg?
Where did that come from?
"I don't know. I'm feeling bold tonight," she said wistfully as her right hand slowly caressed her left arm.
"Wait…I said that out loud?" Garret asked, surprised at himself for letting his thoughts slip out.
Her gaze lifted from the fire she had been staring at until then, and with a small nod that made her braid graciously jump up and down her shoulder, she dragged her eyes to meet his. Their corners were slightly wrinkled by her smile, as pure and radiant as all the others although filled with more melancholy.
"I'm not too good with words, nor the most socially adept person out there," Elsa said after a short laugh. "But even I can guess the impact it had on you. And as I told you this morning, the less you keep it to yourself, the better I think you'll be able to move on."
Garret mouth dried a little. He flashed a glance outside the cavern and heaved a sigh, trying to ignore the weight on his stomach. He crossed his arms.
"There are…some things that are best left unsaid."
"I don't agree with that."
"Doesn't make it less true, though."
"Garret," she called in a more serious tone. "Do you consider me a friend?"
The question had the effect of an anvil being dropped on his chest. "Wha –"
"Please, answer honestly," she continued. "Am I a friend to you? I realize it hasn't been long, and I'm not very perceptive about these things so please excuse my bluntness, but I do wish to know."
He turned back to her. Her face was slightly flushed, the tip of her ears slowly growing redder as she absentmindedly played with the end of her braid. Her eyes were scanning his own visage, surely for any sign of repulsiveness if he was to trust what he knew about her.
No inhibition. Danger is a hell of a drug.
He answered her question with another question. "Do you consider me a friend?"
He expected her to be caught off guard. Or at least a little surprised. Instead, she threw him another smile.
"I do," Elsa said without even skipping a beat. She didn't wait for him to react. "I do consider you a friend. And if that expression is any clue, you think so too." She leaned in his direction, gently putting a hand on the ground and the other over her chest. "Do you trust me?" she asked softly.
Garret barely prevented his jaw from dropping.
The famed turned tables, he thought with a chuckle. He took a second to collect himself and then nodded slowly, eliciting a small breath of relief on her part he was sure she believed he hadn't heard.
Was everyone in Arendelle some sort of mind-reading automaton? Or was he just really not as good at hiding his emotions as he thought he was? He remembered the numerous times he had put on a brave face in front of pretty much everyone he had met. Maybe the sisters were the only ones who told him they saw through him?
"Not the most socially adept person, huh?" Garret said with a sigh, the knot in his guts untangling progressively while the feeling of his heart clenching gained more traction.
Elsa straightened back up in a dignified pose fitting for royalty but kept a small smile over her lips. "I have my moments."
"You certainly do."
"I do not wish to force anything upon you. I just wanted you to know that, if you ever want to show me what happened, I'm here."
You owe her that, he thought as the possibility of disclosing everything slowly appeared more and more justified. She deserves to know.
"Tell you what. You finish your meal, and we talk about this again," he finally said.
She seemed delighted for a moment, then relieved, and finally, she adorned a more playful air that mixed in a surprisingly effective harmony with her solemn tone. "Finish my meal? What's the next step? Are you going to berate me for not eating enough broccoli?"
"Take it or leave it," he said with a lifted eyebrow and a fake cocky grin.
"Very well."
With a final smile, Elsa picked up the rough triple-headed arrow tip he had created for her to use as a fork and proceeded to pick her way through her food with an elegance he would have considered impossible to achieve in their situation. The way she delicately lifted the meat to her mouth and took small bite after small bite strangely filled him with a sense of rapturous wonder. He resisted the urge to laugh at her lifted pinky and how she treated her food like it was a cup of fragile crystal.
He suddenly realized with quick blinks how insistent his staring was. Fortunately for him, she was too concentrated on her meal to notice.
Her chewing captured his attention. Her chewing.
He snapped his head to the side, his heart rate through the roof, and carelessly let his eyes meet the fire's crimson light.
The wave of horror washed over him in an overwhelming torrent. He always avoided direct contact for a reason.
Get it together!
Despite the exterior calmness he was exerting himself to display, Garret was terrified. Of what he had seen and what she was going to see.
Everything. Absolutely everything. The shame of his life, the mistake that destroyed his family.
He took slow breaths, soaking in the inescapable eventuality that she would know. She had called herself his friend. She had to see how much of a failure he was.
"I'm done!" he heard her voice chirp from his right after some minutes of silent contemplation.
"Already?" he asked as he brought his gaze to her once more, seeing her stand up from her place and come closer to him with light steps that made her look like she was floating. She gently let the frozen bowl down at his side, still half-full, and sat with her legs neatly tucked underneath. "Umm, majesty. You didn't finish."
"I ate enough," she said. "Your turn to dig in."
He rolled his eyes. "Stubborn, was it?"
"Very."
He sighed again and brought his prosthetic leg closer to her.
"Promises made," he conceded.
His shaking hand drifted in the air and came to tug at the hem of his pants, letting the ice that he used as his foot feel the cold night air.
He released another breath. His heart was pounding so hard against his ribcage he was surprised she couldn't hear it.
Elsa's eyes were glued to his leg the whole time, and she gulped when the full prosthesis came out. Just like the first time, she stood by, not wanting to start without his authorization, and gently approached it with her hand.
Garret anxiously waited for her fingers to meet his ice. The seconds stretched endlessly as the spinning that was starting to mess with his own mind gained in intensity. He focused on the end of her nails, gaping at how they now looked like arrow tips pointed toward him.
He shut his eyes and let his ears fuel his anguish instead. He heard her soft exhales that carried both excitement and apprehension. He heard the swift whistle of the breeze outside, the hooting of the owls, the ruffling of the leaves, the crackling, the buzzing.
He heard the shouts echoing, the blood dripping, the ruins rumbling, the explosions booming.
"Wait," he called, out of breath.
Elsa immediately stopped and opened back the eyelids she had closed a few seconds before.
"I'm…I'm sorry…" Garret spurted. "I don't want you to see this."
Her features dropped visibly, and she brought her hand back to her lap in disappointment.
"I underst–"
"I'd rather talk about it."
She perked up again, this time in a mix of astonishment and curiosity. "You…You do?"
A small grin grew on his face almost involuntarily. If she was to know, he wanted her to know from him. Not from it.
"I have to learn one way or another, innit?"
Elsa gave him a supportive bob of her head. She scooped closer while throwing her braid in her back and settled in place, her expression one of a perfect serenity he wished he could feel.
"Whenever you feel comfortable," she said in her soft voice that rang like a song in his ears.
There you go. She's waiting. Got to start sometime. Anytime now.
Garret stared at his leg but wasn't really looking at it.
While we're young.
"You… You saw me in the destroyed village with the kids, right?"
She nodded.
That wasn't so bad.
"It all starts from there. Um… That was… A complicated day. But I guess to understand that, I have to explain why I was the army in the first place. As I believe I already told you, it is pretty much family tradition. My father was already an experienced colonel by the time I came of age. He spent most of his time in London, but since my mother couldn't stand crowds, we both stayed in Linton, his little hometown lost in pastures not far from a city called Cambridge. When he discovered my abilities, he trained me to use them for combat, so I could be more than ready when I enlisted. He also burned all the influence he could to get me to climb the ladder faster. I joined an elite team before I turned twenty thanks to that. Record-breaking. An incredible feat," he said with unhidden irony. "The brass kept my powers a secret from everyone except those who had to know."
"So, your father decided everything for you?" she asked, her hand slowly squeezing her own shoulder.
"Not really, he always made it clear that if I wanted to, I could bail out anytime. I just wanted to make him proud. My mother wasn't the biggest fan of it, but since he made sure the team I was a member of wasn't the one to handle the riskier missions, she tolerated it. And I have to admit the old man had some flair – I actually turned out to be damn effective."
"How so?"
"I had the armor. No rifle or sword could hurt me. I had the benefit of being stealthy and as a little bonus, I didn't need ammo," Garret explained as he mimicked firing an arrow. "He was beyond happy. He was proud. But everything I achieved, everything I accomplished was because of him. I only became a knight because he pushed for it."
Elsa glanced to the ground. "I… see."
The beating in his chest gave no sign of dying down, and Garret could still see his fingers trembling. The hardest parts were coming.
"We were sent on what was supposed to be a simple asset recovery. We heard that some rebellious group that wasn't the biggest supporter of what the Empire had done in India wanted to grab it and–understandably–we wanted them not to. This is where the village comes in. I wasn't told why back then, but I had been forbidden from using the armor for a few missions."
Elsa narrowed her eyes in confusion. "Why would your superiors send just a few men and prohibit your magic? It sounds...dangerous?"
"They just didn't know at the time. We had little intel before we got there. Just to give you an idea, the asset turned out to be an enormous cache of gunpowder the size of a darn house when we were expecting a carriage at most. And the group had already been there, in way larger numbers than us, when they were only supposed to be a handful and on the other side of the country. As for the armor, I know nobody would have confessed, but they were growing scared of me. Anyway. The village. The terrorists used it as cover to hinder our progress. As you can probably guess, things did not go… smoothly." Garret sighed heavily and fiddled with his fingers. "I killed for the first time that day."
Elsa nodded somberly as if he had confirmed something she already knew. "That must have been hard."
"On the spur of the moment you don't really think about it," he explained with a shrug. "You just don't want to die. But later, when you see that you're breathing and that the other guy isn't because you released a string…" Garret sighed again and shook his head. "That's not the issue. I knew what I had to do. Those guys would have killed everyone. It took a few innocent deaths to make me understand that."
"Do you… Do you regret it?"
Garret lifted his eyes and let them wander around the cave, settling on the dancing shadows drawn on the walls by the small fire. "That's not an easy question. On one hand, horrible things and taking lives. On the other, more horrible things and letting people die. I can't really say."
"I had a feeling… Nonetheless, I appreciate your honesty," Elsa said, her voice trembling but sincere. "I can picture that decisions where you must weigh lives are often much bigger than we're led to believe. There was no good choice..."
"Yeah. But as I told you, that wasn't the issue. In the battle's confusion, one of those bast–those terrorists ignited the cache, and I had to make a choice. Go after their leaders or stay behind and protect the villagers from the explosion."
"What did you do?"
"I… I wish I could say I did something. I stood there, paralyzed. Like a moron who couldn't choose between pudding and a beer. I didn't move, waiting for divine illumination, I guess," Garret spat, sensing his anger rising once again. "Well… I did eventually move, but too late."
Elsa drew a sharp breath through her teeth, her pupils dilating. "Did anyone…"
"There lied my mistake. I was forced to summon the armor, and I was able to cover the kids but not many more. Their parents, for example, I couldn't...And the leaders saw it. They saw a figure covered in ice plates that tore through their men and ran out of the rubble. They saw an ice witch. An Armored Demon. And I allowed them to leave."
Elsa seemed on the verge of saying something, but shortly after appeared lost for words. She simply met his gaze, wincing in sympathy.
"So, the rebels look for someone to deal with what they saw. For the greater good. Because being a terrorist doesn't mean you don't love thy neighbor, I guess? They find Hopkin's Blessed–which was then led by Roger's brother. And in just a few months, thanks to my incredible feats of arms which I always accomplished with a helmet on my face, the hunters are able to piece together sightings and rumors with new intel to form this conclusion: 'The Armored Demon is a red-headed witch that lives in a small town near Cambridge'."
Elsa looked deep in thought for a few moments. Suddenly, her hand snapped up to cover her mouth, her horrified gasp and bulging eyes clearly showing that she knew where he was going.
"They came to our house in the middle of the night. They found her. She corresponded to the description. Red hair. Living in Linton. A woman. The term witch never seemed so appropriate. They didn't need much more." Garret tightened his shaking arms around him. The force he applied as he dug his nails into his skin almost drew blood, but he didn't care much. "They didn't even think of me, because come on, everyone knows witches are women. First of all, and for good measure, they blew up the house – her lair, they called it – while I was in there. When I woke up, I realized I'd lost my leg along with my consciousness. I had to create this thing…" he added with a disgusted grunt toward his ice prosthesis. "…and then they brought her to the stake. I was beaten up. The armor didn't answer. I was powerless. I watched them burn her," he finished, the flashes of crimson that passed before his eyes making him seal them in pain. "That was three years ago."
"That's horrible… I didn't know," Elsa said in a broken voice. "I…I'm so terribly sorry…"
"I remember everything. The way she screamed, the sound of her steps as she tried to run, how it was silenced. All because I couldn't decide. Because the armor wouldn't come when I needed it the most. Because I was cursed with these powers. All of that, because of me."
He turned quiet and gazed outside the cavern. He wanted to cry. But what purpose would it serve? She knew who he was, how much his mistake had cost him. The least he could do was keep it together.
"That's why you hate yourself…" Elsa's soft voice uttered.
Heh. Apt way of putting it, he thought with a dejected shrug.
"Either way, I could have saved someone's parent if I had just chosen. My walking partner here reminds me of that every sunrise. I tried to get rid of it, but it just won't go. My own personal chains."
He sensed a weight on his right forearm. Strange. Had a pebble fell off the roof? A quick glance showed him it actually had been Elsa's hand that came to rest close to the crook of his arm. She gave him a quick awkward pat before pulling away.
"I understand," she finally said.
Garret scoffed. "Do you really, though?" he answered with thick irony.
"I'm sure I do a lot more than you think."
Her voice had switched to a sadder undertone, and she was now holding her arms tightly around her body, curling up little by little. She took a breath that seemed endless and scanned his face in silence, no doubt weighing her next words with caution.
"Majesty, you and I know that's simply false. You are in no way–"
"I almost killed Anna."
Garret's blood drained from his face and his hand fell limply to his lap. "Wha–What?"
A few tears escaped from her eyes, wiped almost immediately by a delicate sweep. "Twice, actually."
Once more, Garret's tongue outsped his thoughts. "What happened?"
"The first time, we were young. I was eight, she was five. We were playing and…" She stopped for a second, letting the clearly painful memory wash away. "Grand Pabbie saved her, and my father decided to isolate me from then on. The second time was last year. When she came for me in my castle and told me that the whole kingdom was frozen… I lost control. I hit her heart."
Garret could only stare in astonishment. "How did she survive?"
"She saved my life with what would've been her last breath. Without that…" Elsa sniffed, struggling to maintain her smile. "I learned the lesson about love the hard way. That is why it is so important to me now. During my youth, there were some times when… I would contemplate a world without my magic. How a monster like me would disappear… Anna showed me another way."
"Your magic is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," Garret replied immediately without an ounce of hesitation. "You're not a monster."
She gave him a tender smile. "I need a reminder every now and then but deep down, I know I'm not. Still, it took a little while and me almost losing my sister for me to realize that. So, I understand. And I also think it appropriate to tell you that you must learn to forgive yourself. You're not a monster either."
"Easy to say," he sighed as he locked his eyes with hers. Her efforts to cheer him up were cute, but he wasn't going to bury his head. "They're still dead because of me. She's still dead because of me."
"She's not dead because of you. I can't allow you to say that."
"I'm not saying anything. The facts speak for themselves."
"Garret," she called his name in a way no one had done in a long time – softly, gently, like she cared about him. He repressed the urge to ask her to do it again. "She was taken by lunatics who think a woman who can swim is a witch. Lunatics who'd rather burn than check. Lunatics who discovered your powers because you were thrust in a situation you couldn't handle on your own. You were clearly not experienced enough for such a mission, yet they still put you on the spot. And you tried to do what was right." She took a few seconds to collect her thoughts. "It pains me to see you like this. You stopped living that day. It doesn't have to mean your life has to end."
"I'm afraid things are a lot less complicated than that. Someone like me doesn't deserve a li–"
"No!" she exclaimed as she leaped to her feet, her fists clamped. "You deserve it!"
Garret slightly drew back at her outburst. The gentleness had not disappeared, nor the kind eyes, but there was now a fire in her gaze that almost outshone the one burning a few feet behind her.
"You saved Anna! Twice! You helped me out of the castle! You put yourself in danger for my kingdom and you asked for nothing in return!" she added immediately, panting lightly when she was done. "You're not someone who doesn't deserve a life!"
Why is she getting so worked up about this? Garret thought in confusion, his eyes darting here and there to scrutinize every inch of her posture. Not defensive, not aggressive. She looked like she was genuinely concerned. Why?
"You have to remember that we're not human despite our mistakes. We're human because of them," Elsa concluded a bit more calmly, her voice dying down like a cold storm's last gust while she cast her gaze to the ground below her. "You're not worthless."
And only then did it strike him.
The way she had talked to him, her experience with her own powers; she knew what he was going through. She had stayed alone and isolated for thirteen years. Because of one mistake. If there ever was one person who could feel like he did, he was talking to her.
She didn't look like she was concerned. She was concerned.
Worthless.
Such a strong word. Such a sharp word. An unsheathed sword that hadn't stopped poking him in the back for three years, following him wherever he went. A sensation of drowning in the middle of a school of fish. The feeling that he only slept to wake up and only woke up to sleep.
Not questioning where or when it would stop. Not paying attention to what he felt, not because he didn't care, but because there was nothing to pay attention to. Crossing villages and towns that all looked the same, but where people sounded different. Only focusing on his current step, because he wasn't sure there would be another one after the last.
Mourning the loss of something that he couldn't exactly pinpoint. He never even pondered what that might be. Those villagers? His mother? It couldn't be her. He had cried for her.
No. He had been trying to cry for himself for three years straight.
"Your mind is very set on this particular matter," Garret finally said with a quick clench of his knuckles.
Elsa slowly sat back down. "It is. Again, very stubborn," she replied. It apparently took her a few seconds to notice his tears. "Garret?!" she called in worry.
He lifted a hand and chuckled lightly. "It's okay, Your Majesty. These are good tears," he reassured. "Well, they come with relatively good news."
For the first time in a while, he could see himself.
He was tired. It had been exhausting. But he had to stop pretending that it wasn't. He had to stop pretending that everything was alright, that he was fine.
He wasn't.
He dried up his cheeks in a hurry and managed to grin. It wasn't fake. Instead, it was one of those that he had found himself displaying a lot more in the last two weeks. She had become very proficient at drawing them out of him.
"Still, I want you to keep in mind that you're the reason I'm crying," he joked.
She chuckled in response. "I take full responsibility, then."
"Somehow, we're either saving each other's lives or pouring our hearts out whenever we're together. It goes round and round. Can't we just, I don't know, grab a tea sometime? Or play some chess?"
"Some people are just born with trouble as their twin. And I'd much prefer a hot chocolate," Elsa started as a more joyous expression illuminated her features. She patiently let him clean his face up. "Just in the case that it needed to be said, I think you are a good man."
She had said that. Out of all the people, his father, his 'friends', those who had seen his magic, even when she knew about it all, she said that.
Garret lifted his head in her direction. "I…"
Warmth. Inside.
Such a long time. It was more of a spark than a roaring flame, not as brilliant nor as blazing as it used to be, but it was a start.
He wanted to say something. Surely, there was something he could say. Anything.
There was one simple sentence. One he had spoken many times but never truly. One he had uttered that same morning, in a similar situation.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome," she answered soberly with a bright smile on her serene face.
They then sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, soon interrupted by Elsa.
"You still have to eat…"
"Oh!" Garret had completely forgotten the bowl at his side. She wasn't going to hear anything of it, was she?
"I know your magic is less demonstrative…" Elsa continued.
"You're looking for 'pompous'."
She ignored the interruption with a lifted eyebrow and a contained smile. "...but I'd much rather avoid you passing out yet another time."
"Oof. Throwing jabs now. You don't know what you started there, majesty. Some confidence in your boxing."
She picked up a minuscule twig on the ground and threw it at him. "You started it!"
He laughed, seeing her eye him with that same curious glance. "You're right. I'm gonna need that energy tomorrow. It may be a bit hard to believe, but taking a castle isn't as easy as they made it look."
Elsa's eyes looked like a blobfish ready to conflagrate. "Taking–Taking a castle...?"
"Yeah. If he's expecting me to hide, he'll be in for one bloody hell of a surprise," he said with a quick nod. "Can't have a rainbow without a little rain. I have to stop running at some point."
They just had enough time to exchange a fleeting glance that said way more than words ever could before a distant sound rang in Garret's ear, waving in a melodious knell.
Music? No, too simple. A signal? Neither, too complicated.
Elsa picked up on his concern. "Is everything all right?"
"I'm hearing something."
The pair stood up and in a joined motion planted themselves just outside the cavern. Elsa threw random looks around, prepared for anything, while Garret tried to locate the origin of what he was perceiving. However, it was too far to give anything more than a general direction.
"It's coming from there," he stated as he lifted his index finger to his right.
"That's where we came from. Arendelle."
He really had to work on his sense of direction. "Surely. It sounds like a chime. Or a bell."
Elsa's chest heaved with a sharp breath. "A bell? Can you…hear the melody?" she asked with clear anxiousness as she linked her hands above her chest.
"Yeah. Just a second."
He focused on the sound, letting himself be imbued with its simple but soft and ethereal hum. Close to vocalization, it provoked unexpected goosebumps that traveled up his arms. He wasn't the best singer out there–truthfully, he couldn't sing for his life–but he tried to convey the theme he heard the best he could.
Elsa's face fell a bit more with each note, her anxiousness disappearing progressively to let a wave of disbelief accompanied by a tinge of despair show through.
"Til Solen."
"Gesundheit?"
The blue of her dress shimmered against the darker background, shining and pulsing like a ring's perfect crystal, the reflection of the cavern's bonfire giving her an air of a mythical creature that stood between night and day. "Arendelle's funeral hymn..."
Garret's breath caught up in his throat as if he had received the full force of a blow to his sternum. He froze, not able to budge a single muscle.
"Jürden?" he eventually managed to blurt out, holding back a curse shortly after.
Who asks that?! Especially after what you saw?
She did not answer. She didn't even give him the impression that she had heard his words. Elsa let her head drop, tears starting to meander down her cheeks once more. She clasped her hands in apparent dolor, uttering a few prayers in a language he did not understand.
The tears gradually intensified, to the point where she seemed unable to contain her sobs. There was little he could say to ease the hurt. But as she showed him herself twice in a single day, being there was a relative relief on its own. He took a hesitant step and brought his hand to hover a few inches above Elsa's shoulder. He then let his palm gently meet her bare skin, sensing her tense up as she threw him a saddened and misty glance.
"I wish I had the right words," he said, giving her a soft rub with his thumb.
She slightly eased down under his touch and managed a shaky smile. "Doesn't everyone?" Elsa whispered before she choked up and went her back to her muffled crying.
His heart sank for her, for her grief, for what that loss meant to her. He had merely talked to the counselor a few times, but even he could see the kingdom mourned a grand man. And even beyond losing a trusted ally, she feared to hear that bell count down the people of Arendelle. Her family. Her home. He could understand that fear.
What he knew about Roger no longer held. He had reached a new conclusion earlier in the afternoon: the only way to eject him from the kingdom was to bring the fight to him. He was probably waiting for Elsa; not so much for Garret.
He checked on his left hand. The ice shards were almost invisible this time, but there was a lingering steam that seemed to pour out of his skin in a calm and poised flow.
He looked straight ahead, a new resolution fueling his will. For the first time in quite a while, he had an objective, a target. He closed his fist, dissipating the mist in a flurry of twinkling micro-crystals.
Elsa had a kingdom to reclaim. And he would be the wind beneath her wings.
AN: Hope you enjoyed! Thanks Grand_Paladin for reviewing this chapter!
Yeah, I think I will just stop giving you exam notifs cuz I always end up writing anyway lmao
- Man, this was a tough one. Above all else, I was adamant not to be disrespectful and treat depression lightly. The first Frozen did it in a so-so way, even though the core message was genuinely good. And just in case you were wondering, I don't believe Elsa has gotten past hers completely by the start of FII - and obviously not here either - and Garret is definitely not past his by the end of this chapter. This is just a starting point.
- A few update points for the rest of the story: I initially envisioned 20 chapters, but it seems that with some rearranging I can narrow it down to 17 or 18. Don't worry, the story won't change, it's just a matter of where to start and end the chapters. The next chapter will thus be a bit shorter than the previous ones; sorry about that...
- Ice, Fire and Shadow has been updated! Chapter 2 is up!
Next chapter's theme is Skulls and Trombones by Two Steps From Hell - yeah, I like their music hehe. On YouTube too!
A huge thank you to you for sticking with the story and to those of you who took some of their precious time to comment! If you have anything you want to share with me, please go ahead! I answer to all the comments/reviews!
Peace,
CalAm.