Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The light's left his eyes.

Elody had presumed it was a metaphor. A way of encapuslating the utter ruin- the complete dissociation of what happens when you bear witness to a once warm body go brittle and cold. A body whose arms mere memories ago curved so familarly around the dip in your waist, fingers pulling playfully at your hair. She couldn't help reliving the echo of that feeling now- the way his chin rested just on her temple, how deep a breath she could take in those moments, with her face towards his chest, smelling his skin and feeling the rhythm of his voice as he spoke of his day. It made the rest of her living feel lesser in comparison, with how shallow her chest felt normally, how hollow her breaths were in the moments outside of his touches, his presence.

It was gone now, the thought occurred to her, that capacity to feel such safety- the ability of her lungs to draw enough oxygen to satisfy them. She presumed she had mourned her home the moment the conflict started, when the castle she grew up in became a place for battleplans instead of laughter, and war meetings instead of parlor games. But she had miscalculated. The stone and staircases weren't her home.

When people spoke of the dying's light leaving their eyes, as those passing lost their grasp to that final connection keeping them earthside, she assumed it was an expression. But now, with the shadows of the memories of him pressing around her, as she lifted her hand to cradle his cheek, she understood the phrase to be utterly literal.

Despite how his skin felt cool and damp, she couldnt stop the automatic movement to soothe her thumb across his cheek.

His eyes- those beautiful eyes, now caught staring into the night sky, were dull. From where she was leaning over him she saw stars reflected, blinking in and out. Were they last thing he saw? A mocking audience as he took a final breath? A promise of countless wishes as he lay, unable to communicate them?

She felt sick. Something like an ache, an illness, was roiling in her stomach. As if her body was aware something unnatural, disasterous had happened, but it wasnt sure of the right mechanism to release the poison.

If she stayed here any longer they would both be dead. She had to continue, to send word through the fields for the families living on the borders. Her falling would be a death sentence to everyone that was theirs to protect.

Who were now hers to protect.

But she also knew the moment she broke contact with his skin, the second she stopped scanning every pore and freckle and eyelash, committing each to memory, she would be ending something more than she was able to understand in the moment. That decision would cleave her in two. It would be the marker on her timeline. When she left this place, she was in a way leaving a version of herself along with him.

She had so much to tell him. To leave his body here alone was enough to shatter her. To do so without a goodbye was impossible. She imagined that instead of the lifeless eyes before her, reflecting the magnitude of the darkness beyond them both, he was still in this body, still able to hear her.

Her voice was softer than she expected, the first few words cracking through her throat.

"You were always worried you had never earned my love. And I always worried I did nothing to deserve having yours. What a world we could have made if someone had shown us love without conditions. Happiness without sacrifice. Duty without threats." A single tear fought itself past her resolve, plopping onto his forehead. She smoothed it away, grinding her teeth for a moment to maintain composure.

"We were foolish and afraid and lost and that was exactly what we were taught to be. But if you find yourself somewhere, in a place where we get chances- don't give up on me. Even if our recognizable parts have only been forged in this life from tragedy, and in that bright new world we are strangers, I believe we will know each other still. You are my golden tether, my compass to purpose. We were born to save each other, in this and every other world."

She brushed one final kiss against his forehead. Her voice dipped as she said her last words to him.

"Goodbye in this life, my love. You are my partner and favorite story. You have been finding me every day since I have met you, and I am so scared to be lost, but I will do all in my power to ensure no one else has to say their goodbyes."

She did not linger a moment longer than it took to say the words. Like a lock clicking into place, it was done.

Elody unwound her limbs from around Gerard's fallen body. Her knees were soaked in blood which pooled beneath him. She reached to where she had dropped her sword upon seeing his fallen form. and sheathed it back at her hip.

A wall had been erected in her mind, blinders directing her vision: she was nothing now other than a means to an end. A ruler who had nothing to preside over. She had no purpose but to protect her people, no force but her own body to wield against invading forces.

Before moving past him, a thought occured to her. Without looking at the body, she bent down and took two rings adorning his fingers. The first was his wedding ring, which she placed immediately onto her thumb. The next, from his right hand, she slipped off the band she had given him years before their wedding. The one she had made for him, expertly engraved with delicate lily pads and orbs. She pushed it in her pocket as she stood up again and kept moving.

Far off to the east of the castle, hues of pinks and orange squeezed past the seam where the sky met the edges of the forest. Like giant men, the back-lit trees assembled en mass before Elody's very eyes.

Shrieks echoed around her, the crackle of fire coming from every direction.

She knew the sun would rise not on a new day, but on a new era- a new world. And everyone- the slain bodies littered around her, the trees lurching on the horizon, and her, a princess, not in title anymore, but in habit and obedience, would all bear witness to whatever destruction it would bring next.

But she was done with following the footpath set before her. Of watching her life happen to her, instead of living one she might have chosen. She had nothing left in her, no tether to a soul remaining, to be weary of all the danger these choices might bring.

She would not witness this world take shape into something more crueler, nor watch its talens sink into more lives, causing more wreckage.

Perhaps it had broken something, seeing him be broken.

Perhaps, despite her intentions, this path now, which had her wearing her husband's blood, marching towards a battle she could never win, was her destiny from the beginning.

Elody took out her sword and raised it towards the yellowing sky, tipping her head back to consider it. It leared down like an omen.

She pointed the tip of her sword to the heavens. A sscream escaped her. It tore from her very core as she pushed her sword higher. It was a curse. It was a promise.

She lowered her arm and head. As she paused, she heard scrapes of boots against gravel making their way in her direction, from the front gates of the castle. She did not expect the promise of war against the universe to be answered so swiftly.

Elody barely had the thought before she broke into a run towards the furthest field, making directly to a group of buildings where the seasonal workmen who helped with the harvest were bunked. She couldn't take whoever was pursuing her to the homes of families and children, but if she could alert the men who would be rising with the sun...

The workmen's area were far enough away that the noise of the ambush last night wouldn't have awoken them, but surely the fires were visible by now. They must know something was wrong. She just had to get there quick enough, before they would come to investigate, to have them instead run and warn everyone else in Greenleigh.

The thump of boots running behind her were getting close enough she could make out voices among them. She dared not lose even a footstep of her advance to turn around and assess the number in pursuit. She just had to push herself to get enough time to ensure the workmen a head start once she gave them their task.

In a way it was freeing to not know what would happen after that. To not care. She had for so long been worried in every battle, calculated every decision with the costs others would have to pay in her death. Her parents had only her to pass the kingdom to. No one knew if Gerard's curse would come back if something happened to her. None of her choices, who she was, made her important- her ability to keep her body warm and her heart beating was her value. That was the responsibility others expected of her.

And now she was alone. And and no one could love her for what she could do for them. No one could hate her for being their only option.

No one would mourn their losses if she died.

It appeared the universe was giving her time for one decision before it took her back. And she was going to use it. Not to hide or to save herself. She was going to make sure her first and last selfish choice was a good one. So it might be proof, even just to herself, that if she had been given the option, she always would have chosen to be good. That she was virtuous not because she had to be, not because she was under threat of some great evil, but because she had the innate ability for kindness, for love.

Her breath was growing ragged as she finally reached the first of the birch trees that circled the grouping of homes that lodged the workmen. She had outpaced those following her enough that she didnt hear their footsteps close behind her anymore. She hardly scanned the doors of the buildings, instead selecting which one to first enter based on whatever caught her eye.

She launched towards the door, turning the handle. Every cell in her body expected it to be locked, so she let out an unintentional quick draw of breath when the doorknob turned easily beneath her hand.

Without a second thought, she pushed inside and threw the door closed behind her.

Chapter Text

The door clicked behind Elody as she stood in a prolonged state of shock, trying to catch her breath. It was disarming, being in a suddenly quiet and calm space, cut off so fully from the ongoing destruction outside. It was as if she had outraced time- gotten to a place where the storm hadn’t yet touched land.

Her mind was hard to focus, still in a panicked survival mode, while her body was trying to relax in the seemingly safe space it suddenly found itself in. It took a few more moments before she could appreciate there were others in the large room with her, and they were looking at her with alarm.

The bottom floor of the lodgings was open, with a woodfire stove in the far corner, and kitchen taking up the entire wall to her right. There was a staircase that led up to where she imagined the bedrooms were. Wood paneling covered the floor, walls, and ceiling.

“Who are you?” One of the men asked, standing up from the table they were all sitting at, large bowls of fruit and porridge placed across the length of the table.

“Elody,” she replied automatically. “I’m Princess Elody.”

“Can’t be,” another answered. This one hadn’t yet stood up, but his arms were braced against the table tensely, as if waiting for Elody to make a sudden movement. “She left here months ago. Shoulda taken her useless toad of a husband too, with all the use he’s been.”

She couldn’t let his words stick to her, consider them. She was hanging on by too delicate a thread.

“There were other battles I was hoping to win, other allies I was hoping to secure. I didn’t abandon Greenleigh, I was trying to save it..”

The one standing looked at her suspiciously. “Just ‘cause you’re some kind of royal sympathizer, don’t mean you’re actually her.”

Elody ground her teeth together. They didn’t have time for this.

“How would you identify me on the battlefield? How could you know it was me?”

She knew the rhymes, the adorations the kingdom had created when the War first began. The little songs and images and tokens her people held on to. She was embarrassed to hear them at first- they reminded her of how small her power was, how symbolic. The kingdom, she reasoned, didn’t see her as a real threat against enemies, just a metaphorical beacon of hope. A tale to tell scared children. A false promise.

There were no battle tales- no revered retellings of her skill on the field. There were only lines and lines of verse around her qualities in being… a good princess.

…

Elody, Princess, fair and just /
A blessing to us all /
Who will save us- the Princess must /
She will catch our every fall

Atop her steed you see her charge /
Victory to us, each / -

“No match for enemies small or large / Golden mace always in reach.”

Elody looked to the man at the end of the table who spoke the words of the verse she had implied. His eyes were piercing and unwavering, a clear earthy green. She could tell he was tall, even while sitting. He was still and stoic, and she had missed him on first scan. He seemed the least rattled of all the others in the room, just observing.

She nodded. When she reached to slip off her wedding ring, she jolted slightly at the unfamiliar weight of Gerard’s own band on her thumb. How was that only mere moments ago? She felt she’d aged centuries since then.

Quickly she took the ring into her right palm, pressing the gold sphere where a gem would normally be placed. In a blink, her ring had expanded into its weapon form- a long rod with a golden mace hanging off a chain.

She spoke over the gasps of the men as the weapon appeared.

“We do not have time. I appreciate many of you may not be from Greenleigh- you may feel no loyalty towards me or any group in this war. I am not asking you to. I am asking for your help to save innocent lives from unnecessary slaughter.”

Elody paused to see if there would be any immediate backlash to those words. Hearing none she continued on.

“The castle has been seized. I just arrived last night to find the remains of the guards,” she took in a deep breath, “and all the others.. I defeated the few opposing soldiers who I crossed paths with, and I believe them to be agents of Snowhold. I do not know how many survived the battle on either side. I do know that some of the invading army remain, and I can only imagine more will be on their way once victory of their siege reaches them. Greenleigh’s residents will not have heard of this yet, and I know Snowhold will not show kindness, even to children, families. I have been witness to their victories in other kingdoms. I am likely being pursued- and ask you please, to go, as fast as you can, towards the people and warn them. Help them flee.”

Her breathing was quick again, the panic rising in her as she recounted all that had happened. The men seemed in a state of shock. They were staring at her blankly, as if not knowing how to interpret her words, unsure what to do with it.

The moment was broken when the man with the green eyes stood up, his chair scratching across the floor in the movement. “We will, of course, help you, your Highness.”

As if snapped from a daze, the other men followed suit, standing and nodding at her.

“Please, I cannot thank you- I cannot beg of you enough. I do not know how much time we have.”

They were quickly in action. Boots were being put on, swords and other weapons being drawn out of rooms, closets, bags. A small army had sprung from nothing in mere moments.

They stood looking at her once assembled. Attending her orders. She wasted no time.

“You,” she pointed towards the man who had addressed her when she first walked in. “What is your name?”

“Peter.”

“Peter, you must go to the other lodgings- warn the other workers, and ask them what I’ve asked of you. Might you do that?”

“Yes, Princess,” he said, moving around her and rushing out the door. Peter held a large dagger in one hand, gripped tightly.

She bowed her head to him as he passed.

“And you?” She asked of the second man who spoke, the one who had dismissed her being the Princess.

“Frederick.”

“Frederick, do you know the forest that meets the edge of this field? Can you lead, from here, the path to the closest homes. Then go on aind the rest?”

“Aye, I have returned here many years. I know the woods well.”

She nodded again. “I ask that of you now.”

Frederick raised his arm to indicate the rest of the men should follow. As each passed, she again bowed her head. She did not know what cost she was putting on them- the exact risk she was asking them to take. They might each be safer if they ran from here, and did not go to warn others. For the danger they were taking on, she could do nothing else to thank them but let them know she was in their debt, that they held her deepest respect.

When the last of the men brought up the rear, he paused before her. It was the man with the green eyes and steady presence.

“And you, your Highness?”

She blinked in confusion.

He continued, undaunted, “where do you go now?”

Even his voice was reserved, calm. His tenor was slightly gravely, but she could tell he placed a lilt over some words. He wasn’t from the region. If she had to guess she would say the accent placed him from western Reverie or somewhere in southern Tapestry.

“I must return to the castle. See if there are any who I can help.”

It felt as if they were in some pocket of time where there was no urgency. As if the panic had seeped from her, allowing a moment of reprieve.

“You saw signs of life?”

“Not exactly…”

He considered her. If a gaze could be blunt, that would be the descriptor she’d choose. “You said you fought against these forces before?”

“Snowhold, yes.”

“You’ve known them to take prisoners?”

She swallowed, her stomach dropping. “Not that I’ve known, no, they’ve never taken prisoners.”

He nodded, as if he had expected this answer.

“So you are sacrificing yourself for desperation that your present is not real.” He held no judgment, no mocking in the look he gave her, just an assessing scan.

His words slipped past the sternness she was employing, the great steel walls she’d erected to get through, to forget what she had just seen. Her eyes were pricking, her hands shaking at her sides, still holding the mace- the mace with the golden ball. “I can’t leave them,” she whisperd.

It was just her and him in the room now. She could hear through the front door, just ajar, noises of people assembling. She hoped it was the other workers and not Snowhold’s forces.

If he heard them too, the man says nothing.

“They have already left. That was not your choice. This is.”

“I cannot simply leave- while- while so many have died. Their blood soaks the very ground of this kingdom.” Their blood soaks every pore of my hands..

He shook his head. “You have left before- you have just said. When it meant putting Greenleigh first. This is no different- if you want your people to escape, those who can still live past this dawn, you must give them someone to follow.”

She hated that he, this stranger, was right, that the options he was showing her were so clear from this perspective. That despite her initial assumption, this choice she had made- the one that felt monumentally her first- was not to be her last. To be selfless, good, it meant she couldn’t offer herself as a sacrifice, succumb to some great end, as she so desperately wanted to right now. Instead she had to find some last drop of resilience, to fight her instincts. To brutally keep going. Despite being in a world without everyone she loved.

“Why do you care?” she pleaded, a last attempt to push him off before her resolve fully left.

“I have had to choose before too. Have had to choose to continue without the someone who was the reason I was living in the first place. I have hated myself each day since. But I have had each day since, and knowing they would have chosen that, would have wished I would continue, has validated that decision despite the cost.”

He was unfaltering, in this raw truth he gave her.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

His eyes met hers. “As am I.”

Noises outside the door grew louder. The man looked over his shoulder quickly before turning back to her.

“I am sorry you must fight, Your Highness. A crown is a heavy bullseye to bear in a war.”

“It is a weight I am accustomed to.”

“Even so, such burdens that ask the most of us, always seem to be the ones we never sought.”

Elody shook her head and gripped tighter to the handle of her mace. While the man appeared aware of the growing sounds outside, he did not immediately draw his own weapon.

“Sir- I didn’t catch your name - I thank you for your kindness, and please consider me converted, at least for the moment, to continue. Perhaps we should focus on whoever is approaching now?” She nodded towards the entrance.

A near imperceptible lift of the corner of his lips drew her eye. “Please, call me Hans. And duly noted, your Highness. Forgive me- I tend to try to get all the spoken parts out of the way first.”

“Spoken what-” she began, confused, only to be interrupted as Hans torso twitched and his whole body curved inward, his back growing rapidly before her eyes. Dark, thick, hair began sprouting along his arms and neck, as his limbs twisted unnaturally. It felt impossible, what she was witnessing. She knew of shifters- had more recently fought alongside several- but none had ever transformed in front of her like this. She had not before seen the magic so close.

Hans had just lifted his head, now in his new form as a great bear, as noises of blades clashing and the swoosh of bows being released, began in earnest outside.

Hans scratched the floor with his paws. Elody lifted her mace to a swinging position. They both faced the door.

Chapter Text

Six Months Earlier

“Snowhold has already taken the northern fortress. They'll be at the river by less than a week. We should withdraw all the troops north of the river. It's not worth holding that territory.”

Elody was frustrated- with herself, with the advisors that made up the war council- selections from the age of her father’s reign. They were resistant to change, and avoidant of risk- a natural consequence of being selected during, and then living plushly throughout, times of peace. They were averse to recognizing the complexity of war or acknowledging the true tasks they were being asked. She shouldn’t be the one advocating for the troops- to be in every detail of each strategic decision. She should be able to rely on them when the forces needed her on the front lines for rallying, or when other kingdoms called for aid.

Captain Getrennt’s lips were pressed together, his fingers tapping the book he clutched like a shield over his chest. Little ticks, she had picked up, which implied he was frustrated with her insistence on matters he would rather not deal with. “Your Highness, I understand, but even getting word to those men, given the power of the Snow Queen's armies, the crows in her service, beings of ice and wind…” They’re just farmers, younger sons of workers- why go through the effort for such a small number of dispensable troops? Why are they worth my time? That was what she translated from his words.

Elody had been mostly trained in stately affairs, in navigating ballrooms and afternoon teas. Her mother insisted she learn some combat- as she was their only heir and her parents’ ailing ages meant she had to often travel from a young age on diplomatic missions by herself. Her mother fretted over the long days in lesser-frequented woods between allied kingdoms. But besides an hour of training with the Knight’s captain before daybreak a few times a week, she had been mostly unfamiliar with physical fighting. She had known only simple escape techniques, and how to use small daggers to disarm.

Her weaponry expertise was in words and politics- in navigating people and getting the upper hand on agreements and deals. While much had changed since her schooling- her skills in that area were not diluted. Captain Getrennt was no more intimidating than a prickly distant cousin at a dull dinner party. He was to be managed, with flat compliments and platitudes, until he went away- unknowingly doing exactly as she asked.

She softened her face, tilting her head so that she had to look up to meet his eyes.

“I understand that there is a risk for our messengers, but some of those forces may be recalled. Otherwise, there will be a rout.” Frowning, almost in a pout, she let out an orchestrated sigh.

Like many men with unchallenged egos, Captain Getrennt considered nothing to be more natural than a silly girl seeking his valiant aid, finding in him a sort of confidant. In a world of the ill-advised, he placed himself as the voice of true reason.

This was child’s play.

Captain Getrennt puffed out his chest and gave a swift nod. “Very well, Your Highness.” Elody bit her lip to keep a straight face.

Without missing a beat, Captain Getrennt continued- emanating a sense of surety that things would continue going his way. “As to the castle, we should raise our defenses.”

Despite her training and her proficiency in the area, Elody felt her brows draw together instinctually. “Raise our defenses, here at the castle?”

She and the council had decided early in the war that the focus would be on ensuring the border of their lands were protected. The main threat from inviting forces was largely to the residents of Greenleigh; pilgrimaging or burning homes and crops.

Greenleigh was rich in its people: known for the celebration of its artists, as well as extravagant events and festivals. The rest of their trade was in produce and livestock, with the many fields throughout the land ideal for agriculture.

But they had no proper wealth in the way many Kingdoms had. Their coffers were modest at best, and mostly valuable for their historical artifacts rather than anything especially lucrative. The castle was inland, equidistant from the coasts- it held no strategic advantage for occupation during the war. Elody’s family was also relatively new to reign- so they had no deep seeded quarrels with other kingdoms, either, to draw targetted attacks.

Greenleigh had once been under rule of a council of duchies, which collaborated, each owning their own parcel of land, instead of an overseeing King or Queen. During her great grandfather’s time, civil war had broken out between the dukes, and factions attempting to take more land and name themselves ruler. It had depleted everyone, both in the lives lost and the financial consequences- and ultimately the people revolted. Instead of continuing with the duchies, the people demanded for a monarch, subject to particular democratic review. It would have been impossible to have a system with proper elected representation and still have the Territories of Greenleigh (as it was once called) be recognized by other Kingdoms. They would have faced constant threats- knowing each other kingdom would show hostility towards them as the other royal families worried that their own subjects might start getting ideas of revolutions.

It was novel then, and even today they are the only kingdom with such rules. The sitting royal is in control of most state affairs, while the people have oversight and rights to vote on certain matters- largely budgetary approvals and land allotment.

Due to this, also, there was rarely extra left over each year in gold. If there was a useful place to spend the money, the people would ask it is applied in that way. The castle built after the civil war was set to be in the center of the Kingdom, in a symbolic way to demonstrate it was for all. A wonderful place to live- but a terrible strategic choice during a major conflict.

So what did Captain Getrennt mean? They had hardly enough people to do the work they were currently doing- certainly no extra to be placed around the castle. Did he have special knowledge of something she wasn’t aware of?

There were barely even people in the castle these days- short of those it took to run the estate at the minimum levels. There were occasionally some neutral visitors, and the council and their families have kept rooms during the conflict, but that wasn’t near the amount who often stayed in normal times. Elody, herself, was mostly just around for council meetings and Gerard-

“This is sort of unpleasant talk at the table, is it not.”

Elody had forgot he was here. With a blush of shame coating her cheeks, her head turned towards Gerard as he spoke.

He cleared his throat, shuffling to sit up straighter in his chair, moving his linen napkin from his lips to the table. “We have a ball coming up. Shall we... My dear, my sweet. Dear, sweet, Elody. We should be talking about what kind of dance we're going to do.”

It took a while to understand what he was talking about. It was as if he was speaking a foreign language and she needed to reroute her brain before being able to translate.

Gerard had been changing recently. Well, there had been changes going on for some time between them. But it had especially accelerated when the war began when Elody had to learn to rule a people while simultaneously asking them to risk their lives for Greenleigh’s protection. When Gerard, instead of rising to meet the challenge, clung to any marker that might allow him to be distracted from the ongoing danger they were in.

He didn’t speak of it- the physical effects of the distance growing between them. Whenever she had tried to breach the subject, he acted irritated or aloof. His ability to falsify reality, even to himself, was frustrating- and when she had the patience to sit with it, she knew it also scared her to her core.

Even under the warm tones of the candlelight in the dining hall, Gerard’s skin was unnaturally hued. As if the very tissues and vessels in his body were changing, his once golden complexion was now ghostly- with a tint of green and blue more obvious around his wrists and neck.

In the immediate weeks following the end of his curse, Gerard was gleeful- he had stopped at every reflective surface, staring and turning his body this way and that, trying to understand his new form. She had followed him around, grinning from ear to ear, her stomach flipping and heart in her throat- knowing every time, once his awe would subside, and he would turn to find where she had gone, his eyes would meet hers. And that look was filled with such adoration, such appreciation, such love, that she believed it could satiate her for the rest of her life. She would never need food or water or sun again: this was enough, that look was enough. He was enough.

But that face, which had brought Gerard such joy, such elation to see reflected back at him, was now shifting into something foreign to them both. His cheekbones were stretching, everything pulled, as if all his features were flattening and being rounded.

She knew what he was beginning to resemble. He must notice too. But if he did, he did not seem willing to speak of it. At least not to her.

Shaking herself out of her thoughts she blinked at him, then turned to address Captain Getrennt and the two subordinates who stood with him. They were each glaring at Gerard with unmasked disdain.

They hated her husband. They disliked her often, sure. But they despised Gerard. Where, in their minds, her decisions and focus were too grandiose- too demanding of them and their time, they saw Gerard as apathetic. The council might wish to do the very least required for their positions, in Elody’s perspective, but they imagined that they were at least doing something- trying. Gerard’s primary focus these days was dismissing every aspect of the war, instead prioritizing a lifestyle that now felt foreign- with social acquaintances, and balls, and pageantry. She heard the council speak in whispers when she entered a room or left it- they considered his choices more than mere disinterest in the war- rather they equated it to hostility- an act of spitting in their face, while they cut more and more workers from fields to fill battalions and ranks and took from their own reserves to fund weapons to arm each addition.

She understood their perspective- and could empathize with the growing unease they had for him. But she couldn’t bring herself to find that level of anger. Who was she to expect him to sacrifice himself for a role he was forced upon? Because she was the heir?

Who was she to demand he spend more of his life in desperation- in sadness?

She did not read his actions as not caring- she read them as scared. She couldn’t help but see the small boy in him- the child who suffered loneliness and despair and a complete lack of control in his situation- reliant on one person who might someday save him. How could she ask him to return to feeling that way? He was stuck to at least be here with her- to be forced in her company for the rest of their lives and inherit all the problems of the land that she was specifically entrusted to deal with. If he needed the structure and imagined safety in a social calendar, it was the least she could do to allow him that.

Elody cleared her throat. “I shall meet you forthwith in my study,” she said to the Captain.

Without another word, Getrennt and his two men gave a curt bow and made their way from the dining room.

Elody’s eyes traced their path and watched as the last of them left and closed the door behind him.

She allowed herself a shallow breath before putting on a smile and turning to face Gerard. “You were right. I am sorry. I find myself much distracted these days.”

Gerard seemed pleased by her focus returning to him. He gave her a grin in return. It was of a rare type these days- the sort of smile that held long enough she could catch sight of his dimples. “It's quite all right. I mean, we've got generals for these things and whatnot. I figure, let them all kind of fight out there. We're inside. That's why they build castles. That's why they build them.”

He caught her puzzled look. The dimples disappeared.

“So that we can be in here.”

This had happened more when they were younger- when the effects of him spending his formative years removed from society and a lack of formal education were blaring. It had broken her heart, but she had also been excited to be the one to teach him new things, to share in his first experiences. However, Gerard was never quite as enthused. For him, it seemed, every differentiation between them, every bit of knowledge she had and he didn't, or reference he didn't get, reminded him of what happened. He took it as some great failure or a glaring cue to others of being an outsider or something. So she rarely corrected him, or if she did, did so tepidly.

Her hesitation extended past just topics or conversation- she also did not ask if he wanted to do things he hadn’t already expressed interest in. There were many things she had wanted to share with him- her love of horseback riding and sword sparring, but the threat of upsetting him outweighed her enthusiasm.

So, maybe, hopefully, she had just misheard him.

“Run that by me one more time,” she said softly.

“Okay.” Gerard looked uncomfortable.

“They build castles so that…” she prompted him.

“We can be in here.”

She nodded for him to continue.

“They fight that stuff outside, then rocks, then us, so we’re good.”

Elody allowed herself a quick breath through her nose to center herself, to fight past the initial urge for irritation. If you were a lost little child in a frog pond, watching your friends get killed by predators you were once higher on the food chain than, would you not also dream of a castle? Would you also not find being in one a great comfort? Wouldn’t you create a binary in your head of what is safe and what is unsafe- and wouldn’t all unsafe options seem uniformly terrifying?

“Gerard,” she began, her chest hurting at the line of thought she had made herself go down. “They build castles like this for a lot of reasons.”

At first, she thought he was rolling his eyes. But no, he just seemed to be looking at everything but her. Was she stepping too close to something? She continued.

“They build castles like this for a lot of reasons. As a place of safety. In times of-”

“Right,” Gerard interrupted her, his eyes tracing the wall to his right.

This time she didn’t swallow the irritation quickly enough. “Are you listening to what I’m saying?”

“Yes. There’s just a fly…”

She gritted her teeth. She understood avoiding certain topics, but surely he could come up with a better excuse. She spent so much time worrying about him, and moments like this had her wondering if he ever thought to do the same. She often felt overwhelming responsibility towards him, apologetic he was stuck with her by fate, but even so, she couldn’t stop the question: did he care for her at all?

“Okay. Well, ignore the fly.”

“Okay.”

“Snowhold means to conquer us.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Her frustration was winning at this point, her heart in her throat as her sentences became more clipped.

“My mother and father are infirm. The kingdom needs leadership. You have heard of what now befalls all of the realms. Giants striding in the land, witches, terrible storms, creatures of the sea.”

“Flies in the banquet hall.”

She paused. “Is that where you thought I was going?”

“Can we get rid of the fly? Would that be okay?”

You can’t hide from every conversation, avoid me every time I have to talk to you about something that could scare you. It scares me, too. “It’s a fly. Just a fly.”

And then, something she could have never anticipated happened. Gerard’s tongue extended past what any humans' should be capable of- stretching in a snap away from him towards the air where he had been staring before.

She leaned backward as a scream tore from her throat.

His fear-filled eyes met hers at that moment. And she saw in them recognition- understanding that what she had been noticing, all his changes, were real to him too. And they were both desperately clinging on to a question of what it might all mean.

She righted herself again.

Gerard began talking sheepishly. “Did you see that? Okay, there's... There's been some things going on with me. I've been a bit distracted as well. Some of the... Do you remember when we met, and I was a frog?”

What an understatement. What a thought, that their beginning wasn’t always hanging over their head. “Yes, Gerard.”

“And then we fell in love, and everything was good then, and then I became a handsome prince, and everything is still good, so I should still be a human being, but I'm getting frog stuff back. Does that mean anything to you, or…”

It was surreal, having him speak of these things so candidly. Without her prompting anything. She chose her words cautiously, lest she spook him. “Things are not well.”

“Not out there, no, but…”

Elody frowned. “How could things be well here if they are not well out there?”

“Because that's why castles are built. We had this conversation. You said your thing, and you have your opinions on castles, and I have my opinions on castles, and I think the wonderful thing about it is that we can both think the way that we think and still love each other unconditionally. Right?” He had taken on an almost frenzied tone. He held a sort of desperation in his voice, as if hoping that she agree. “Right? Right?”

But she couldn’t just agree, even to assure him in some false way. Not now. She felt like they were beginning to crack into something that they had been circling for years.

“I love you.”

She said it like an enchantment, like they were the precise words of an incantation meant to preserve something. When did love become a clause? When did her expressions of appreciation for him feel like a listed item to check off, with as much intimacy as washing her face or setting up agreements with foreign contacts?

How did she become so proficient in proceduralizing even this, the brief moments she had to humanize herself? With the one person who was always meant to see past her form and title- as she was meant to see past his? Was the curse he once bore omniscient- did it not break but instead move forms to attach to her?

When did she become the bearer of all this weight? The carer for so much- without anyone, ever, to help carry the load?

Gerard’s eyes closed, and a deep breath was released. He was soothed by the words, the very ones he was always told would free him. He smiled at her. “And I love you.”

That reaction, in that moment, terrified her. It was as if he had said ‘you’re right’ to every one of her nightmares. It pushed her to speak some of her fears into words.

“Isn't there something horrifying about the idea that our lives ended on the day we wed? Because Gerard, that's what I feel from you.”

Was I the finish line? Was our marriage to bring you comfort about ensuring the end of your curse? Was it meant as a mechanism?

Was any of it for love?

Gerard looked as if he wished he could be anywhere else. “Oh.”

She continued, her voice a plea. “You say that you are happy. You say that things are well, but here in this moment, I don't know that it has to do with the war. I don't know that the way I feel about you has to do with the war. The way I feel about you may have something to do with how I feel about how you feel about the war.”

I would never ask you to fight for people you never chose. And I worry you never would have chosen me if you hadn’t needed to. Am I right? Is that why you won’t even pretend? To ask me about any of it? Why you don’t kiss me goodbye when I leave anymore? Or notice the toll it’s all taken on me?

Gerard shuffled in his seat. “Right. I just thought we had figured this all out, that we had been, there was the tough thing, and then we were just, we're on the same team here. You know what I'm saying? So everything here could just be good, if we wanted it to be.”

She was running out of steam. His words just seemed to confirm every one of her darkest thoughts and fears. “What would it look like, everything being good?”

“We'd be getting dressed right now. We'd be talking excitedly about who we were going to meet and gossip with at the ball.”

She thought she was used to the loneliness. She hadn’t realized how much more it would hurt to ask him to look straight at it and have him still turn away. “I will do my best to give you what I can.”

“And I, you know what? I will break out that old book of the old sword forms that I have, back when I used to fence with my cousins, and I will get to the war thought.”

She focused on ensuring her voice didn’t crack and busied herself by looking down to pick up her fork. “Thanks, Gerard.”

She could hear his own cutlery being scuffed against the table as he grabbed them. “Thank you.”

Elody had spent the rest of that night going through old battleplans, trying to find where Getrennt was finding the rationale to try and move more soldiers to the castle. When her eyes became heavy, she justified not returning to her’s and Gerard’s bed by telling herself it was too far, that she was almost done with her work.

She tried not to pay attention to the growing sense she was facing battles on all fronts. Nor question how many ways she was up for judgment or how many people she was at the constant risk of failing.

As she began to doze off she imagined what a comfort it might be to have a hand soothe her back and a voice in her ear tell her she was doing alright.

Chapter Text

Hans breath in this form was raspy and short- she could hear it with how close they were, but could not see his body move as she might expect a chest to rise if he was human. Perhaps it was his form or the way he was angled towards the doors, making it so his was the first figure anyone entering the cabin would see.

They stood in tense silence, otherwise, eyes trained on the door.

Elody gripped the handle of the mace tighter as if to test its presence. A sort of reassuring squeeze to remind herself to fall back into who she was when she held it, a state that had become second nature to her over the Times of Shadow. She was a soldier, a warrior for her people, she was a lightening rod through which safety might be procured. She was strong, agile and single-minded. All other elements of personhood needed to be scraped from her while she was in combat.

As she felt herself hardening, all senses tuning in for whatever they would be facing as she picked up a single set of footsteps approaching outside. She raised her arm and pointed a finger in Hans’ peripheral vision to indicate her hesitation. He seemed to nod. One person coming could mean a lost worker or one of the men returning. Even if it was a Snowhold soldier, if they could silence him before he alerted others...

The steps paused just outside the threshold. Three short knocks ran against the lower half of the door in rhythm. She held still, her mind whirling trying to imagine what they could mean. During her hesitation she noticed Hans’ form relax. It was hard to understand how a bear could look relaxed, but the effect was so profound- his shoulders drooping, his arms lowering- she understood it quickly.

Hans huffed loud enough that whoever was outside the door must have heard. Quickly entering and closing the door behind him, was Peter- the first man she had sent out. The one who was supposed to warn the other workers. Her heart rate quickened - had something gone wrong?

“Shocked to see you here,” Peter toned to Hans, the deadpan delivery obvious to even her.

Hans huffed, his eyes tuned on Peter’s. They stayed like that for a short time, a silent conversation seeming to happen between them, before it was Peter who broke away and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, a white knight in bear form,” she heard him mumble before he turned to face her.

“They’ve all been warned,” he said, before she could ask.

Relief. Finally. It was a small bit of hope, but still something to hang on to. “And they’ve been able to mostly make it away?”

He shook his head. Her stomach dropped.

“What happened?” she asked quickly.

“They stayed to fight. Some ran, yes. Many went to help the others at the towns, others went towards the castle, but most are arming themselves now.”

“No- they can’t - they’ll die,” she heard her own voice break on the last word. Was it only a short while ago she had run from those fields of bodies around the ruins of her home? Their blood coating her ankles? The hem of her dress? Each one a tally on her conscience. And now she imagined how more she would have to atone for if these men stayed and fought a desperate and losing battle.

Maybe they had misunderstood Peter. Maybe they had imagined this an even fight, or that she was asking something of them. She should go warn them properly - tell them to save themselves.

She was moving to do just that before Peter moved to block her exit.

“Hans thinks you’re about to do something stupid,” he said flatly when she looked up questioningly at him.

Elody frowned, glancing back to the bear who stood as he had before. Maybe the two of them had some sort of way of communicating through signals because to her Hans looked like he generally had since transforming- which is to say, large, intimidating, and unreadably bear-like.

“I have to make sure they understand the danger they’re putting themselves in... I have to-” She went to move past Peter again, muddling her words in her panic.

Princess. Allow them to fight.

She stopped cold. Where had that voice come from? It sounded as if it was in her own head.

No one will fault you your selflessness. But you must let them fight.

It was the way he was pronouncing the words, the same lilt coming across even in her mind. Hans.

Once she knew it was him, she was less panicky. It was almost like once she recognized the voice, she felt his form. Not physically, as the body heat rolling off Hans’ bear shape was still sturdily behind her, but mentally. She could sense where he was in her thoughts, his presence. Towards him, she felt herself speak back. Why here? They should get themselves to safety- to run if they did not want to warn the people of Greenleigh-

She felt him sigh. This may not be a home as you know of it as a home. But for many of those men, even if it is temporary or yearly, a spot that welcomes them and provides a place of rest is worthy of fighting for.

But surely-

More assuredly she heard Hans this time. His voice coming across as stern. Did you not hear Peter? Many ran towards the castle. It was not only you who will discover a still body of a loved one today.

She knew somehow, that the space in her mind of where Hans was speaking to her was not a part of her thoughts. It was as if he was outside a closed gate, talking through the slits in the fencing. Even still, the ferocity of emotion the memory of Gerard evoked as he spoke, the intense sharpness of that pain, felt blinding for a moment. She was sure shock waves of it spilled even to him.

He was much softer this time. Do you respect these men as capable and worthy of their own decisions?

Though they were still communicating in her mind, she still felt her voice waver. Well of course but-

Then do not mark their choices as senseless. Do not do them the dishonor to say their bodies are not worthy of noble sacrifices. Do not spit on the blood they will spill on your land because you have decided their relation to it is tenuous.

I’m sorry I did not mean- I- no, you’re right. It’s- every person who doesn’t need to die, I feel it is my duty-

There is never a need for death, your highness. But you cannot blame yourself for every arrow that lands in the chest of someone who has stood forward to take that risk. No one wins in a war, and your duty is surely to minimize its effects, but you cannot wear every slain body like a chainlink around your ankle. Even in chaos, you must permit people their autonomy. The right to fight for others as you seek to. The right to avenge as I imagine you will want to.

She felt his presence fade away until she could no longer sense it. So strange- it was a feeling she would have never been able to describe, sharing a place you never thought shareable. Even if he was merely at the corners, such that a small whisper might have been able to dislodge him, if she had sought to, it hadn’t felt foreign to let him be there. Now that he was gone she almost missed the empty spaces she could feel more profusely. The silence she had never thought of before.

Shaking out of it, she whipped around to face the bear. “How-how did you do that?”

As if in coyness, the bear tilted his head.

“Is he doing the head thing?” Peter asked her. She turned so she could face them both.

“The-”

“The thing where he chats around in your head. No warning or nothing either, just pops in whenever he feels like it. Creepy. It’s like a bug or something crawling on your skin.” Peter shivered.

Elody could only stare. It hadn’t felt creepy, having Hans speak to her in that way, but she couldn’t get into that right now.

“Is it- is it just something he can do?” she asked Peter.

Peter shook his head. “No it’s called mindspeaking- though it has other names in other regions. It’s a magic folk thing. Most aren’t so evasive, or if they are, not amongst strangers. It’s also something that can burn a fair bit of magic if not used diligently, though I’ve never seen him worried about anything like that.”

Peter paused and looked over her to Hans again. She now understood they were speaking to each other as she and Hands had.

“Well, tell her yourself then. You’ve got hands to hold a sword like the rest of us, you can get out of that form anytime you’d like. We both know you’re just preparing to be a shield.”

The bear huffed.

Peter continued. “Well, she’s about to find out. The closest Snowhold line is about to reach the first few workers.”

Elody stood straight. “You know?” There were those she had fought with before who held similar skills, an ability to interpret the ground beneath their feet in waves and vibrations, even from townships away.

Peter nodded.

It was as if the clear immanency of the battle was a blast of cold water. She knew she was already unraveling at the seems, so much had happened in so short a period of time, that she hadn’t yet been able to process. But fighting was now second nature to her. A battlefield often feeling more familiar than her home with Gerard had over the last few years.

“You’re not to act as a shield,” she said, turning to Hans. “We are, each of us, getting out of this alive. We are ensuring the safety of as many others as we can.” She took a deep breath. “The priority is stalling Snowhold as long as we can for the others to reach the town and help them escape. As soon as we have done that, we run. And we tell the others to run as well.”

The two men looked at each other for a moment when she finished before they both dipped their heads in Elody's direction.

Taking that as an affirmative, she turned and started for the door again. This time Peter moved.

Out of inspiration, out of purpose, she thought momentarily of offering a word of hope as she moved the door handle and pushed into the outside, the crests of Snowhold's army already visible. Instead, she kept her mind focused on ensuring her feet landed one in front of the other, keeping herself trained on the simple instructions she had given them all.

Trying to keep herself from wondering which of their blood would be the next to soak the grass.

__

It was terrifying how easily beauty led itself to brutality.

One-two-three– balls of your feet! Princesses do not stomp! Again, graceful elbows this time, one…. She could still hear her dance teacher’s voice in her head, instructing her movements, point by point and limb by limb, first through ballet and later through the various courts’ ballroom dances. How easily a body could retain a trained form.

Now the beats came to her amongst the clash of steel and the echoing of air that was made when magics hit each other. She found her foot placements in between bodies covered in Snowhold’s steel and Greenleigh’s workers' various textured garments. Her arm extended not for a partner but with a forceful hit aimed against an enemy. The music did not echo in her bones, it was now replaced by the reverberations from her mace making a connection with flesh or shield.

She had temporarily lost sign of Hans and Peter. They had all three stuck together for the first part of the battle amongst the workers’ homes. They were for much of the battle surrounded by many other workers, each with a fury and resolve she wouldn’t have imagined. Hans' words followed her - reminding her that this was a home for them as it was one for her. They had people they loved here like she had.

Peter and Hans worked like a team- it was clear they had fought together many times before. Given their interactions in the house, she wasn’t surprised their bond was a serious one, but she hadn’t imagined their intimacy had gone past their work. They had known each other for some time, she surmised, as they fought in tandem- stepping in for each other in coordination- and seemingly through various hardships.

Though they might have been stronger fighters in many ways - Hans' sheer strength in this form, and Peter’s uncanny aim and ability to disappear between hits - they flanked Elody for much of the battle. She was not unskilled, but the point of putting her in front was likely a means of rallying those behind. No one could miss the way the still-rising sun glinted from the gold of her mace as she swung on the incoming Snowhold forces Everyone would know where to expect the instructions on the battlefield to originate from.

Sometime later it was no longer Peter and Hans at her side, but two other men. The workers were all skilled- and certainly strong. She was surprised at how many had specialized capabilites- small sorceries or special weapons. Snowhold was brutal in their efficiency- they had no emotion coursing through their veins, only a mechanical approach to slaughter any warm body in front of them. Precise in cruelness.

The workers were entirely different. They moved like a wave instead of paced lines. They ebbed as units, their backs covered by friends, their risks uncalculated and filled with fury. It was a surpisingly even match.

Until it wasn’t.

As Elody ripped her mace from the Snowhold soldier that had fallen in front of her mere moments ago, she took a moment to look around. The bodies of the workers far outnumbered the Snowhold army. While she and the others had held the advantage of surprise, and a surge of energy at the beginning of the fight, the workers who remained were now exhausted and outnumbered. They could not take the Snowhold soldiers in one-on-one combat, and they were so spread out now, that the workers no longer had enough people working together as groups. The two men who had followed her when she lost Hans and Peter had also fallen some paces ago.

They couldn’t keep going.

Surely it’s been long enough to give some head start to the towns folk. Any more time and Snowhold will finish everyone here and simply walk over their bodies to find the others. She needed to ensure the workers got away, and cause some sort of distraction to confuse the army on where to run next.

But where? The forest? Towards the fleeing villagers? Their options were limited- and none seemed without risk. To send the dozens of workers still fighting into the forest in their current states- meant almost guaranteeing losing them all to some peril in the woods. To send them towards the fleeing villagers directly felt like it would have nullified all the sacrifices made in this battle.

Not for the first time today, Elody wished she could lay on her own sword- offer herself as some ultimate sacrifice for her people. Put her body on the altar to allow everyone else to go free. But her death would save no lives today. Not yet.

To your left, your highness.

Elody didn’t even think before her arm swung out her mace, the spikes latching into the exposed neck of a Snowhold soldier who had been attempting to sneak up on her. The soldier’s sickly gargles as blood flooded his throat were muted by Hans' voice as he spoke to her again.

I’m flying to your right, above. Peter is already in the forest. We have friends who will bring the Greenleigh army to a safe place until they can be reunited with the villagers who are fleeing. Most of the villagers have made it well into the forest and should be undercover and dispersed enough that it will not be easy for Snowhold to follow.

She could not let herself relax as she wanted to, hearing Hans' words. They were still too close to have this plan fail. Sure enough, when she looked up to the right she saw a speck of a black bird circling overhead.

She might well be cautioned to be wary of relying so heavily on this man she had just met. But she could think of no other way to get the men to safety. Greenleigh’s army as Hans had called them.

I have spoken to others on the field. They know to follow my direction in this form when you give word. They know to follow the gold specs when they enter the forest. You must do the same.

Thank you, she thought back, throwing as much appreciation into that thought as she could, hoping it reached him.

He paused before responding, and she noticed the bird’s wings falter slightly above her. Whenever you’re ready, just give a signal, and we will move.

She nodded, already feeling his presence slip from her mind once again. Just as the last tendrils pulled away, she heard one final echo from him. And please, Princess, do not do anything stupid.

She might have laughed in any other situation- to have someone insist on using her title while in the same breath implying she is likely to make a stupid choice, regardless of any warnings.

She didn’t bother trying to get out a final word to Hans. Elody could only trust, no matter what happened, that he would get the Greenleigh army to safety. His allegiance must, however noble, be first with them regardless- they had all worked alongside each other for some time, perhaps years. Hans had just met Elody this morning.

No, despite whatever stupid acts she would make to ensure as many lives were saved as possible, she had to believe that Hans and Peter would get everyone to safety. That they too would find safety.

Twisting her fingers, she paused where she stood, lifting up her mace above her head. Elody ignored how the blood coating the weapon dripped from the pointed tips onto her shoulder.

Her voice was magnified as she began speaking. With another twist of her fingers, a light, like if from the sun itself, sparked along her mace- the golden metal visible shining like a beacon. Soldiers on either side, turned towards her, as if unwilling.

“Greenleigh,” she projected over the crowd, her voice echoing back to her. “Retreat.”

For a second everything stood still. But when Hans swooped lower, grazing over the tops of the workers and towards the forest edge, Greenleigh’s army began sprinting with him. Some were carrying friends amongst them. A few had shapeshifted as Hans had, into birds, or animals large enough to carry others who were injured.

Snowhold’s army held for some time as they watched them flee. It was as if they had no calculated response to this-- as if they were flipping through every training book, collectively trying to find the proper response. By the time they had started to pursue, most of the workers had reached the forest’s edge. A few of the stragglers, mostly those carrying the wounded, were quickly being gained upon.

As Elody stepped forward, opening her mouth to say something to distract Snowhold, to give these men more time to reach whoever Hans and Peter had arranged, she felt a hand wrap around her mouth. She stood in shock as a voice like bells spoke sweetly in her ear.

“So sorry Princess, it’s just I owe Hans a lot, and when he asked for this favour… well, it seemed like there was no way to say no. I do hope you can forgive me, I do hate for us to meet this way.”

Before Elody could figure out a way to respond, she felt a warmth of magic surround her, clinging to her skin. It was then as if the magic was pulling her into the air itself, being pushed into an infinite blackness where she could not draw a breath to scream.