Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Almost nothing grew in the ice-lands: crops, cattle or human life, those surviving adapted to the sharp teeth of winter and her cold grasp, or they lost every ounce of their humanity: Black tipping their fingernails from the knifing cold, teeth sheared from clattering and frost tipping the ends of their hairs, brows and eyelashes.

They huddled by fires, rubbing their frail hands together for the little heat cradled in their fireplace, saving the rest for the little meat they procured over various hunts to feed their young children, always the first to eat first: The little bundles of life and joy were the motivations the adults used to keep them going when the brutality of winter and its storms came crashing around them, the innocent eyes of their children looked up to them inquiring when they could play outside again when winter battered her firsts against their windows violently.

Mikhail could distinctly remember huddling with other children in their bundled, fluffed coats as they went out into the crisp snow, hunting and scavenging, taught early on when they were strong enough to bare the bittering frost of their terrain, going out with their bows searching for large hares and foxes to stuff their bellies before nightfall came, if they were lucky, their parents ate alongside them without having to sacrifice the little ration they kept for the young.

Before going out for his first hunt, Mikhail remembered the words his mother said as she combed her hands through his platinum hair:

“Now, kochanie, you be safe and bring something nice back, yes? If not, we still got enough for you and Alina.” She smiled softly, hair drooping down her shoulders and face.

Mikhail protested and promised he would bring something fulling for his family. Everyone should eat no matter what. Why is that so difficult to understand?

“You will understand when you become a father one day, hun. Promise me this, find a nice lady and care for her and your children as you grow old together, ok?”

Her voice was soft and sweet whenever she spoke of him having a family like a fond, precious memory. Bed-ridden, his mother was too weak to help out anymore; His father was out gathering wood for their fire, his sister repaired their clothes and gathered warm furs from their neighbours for their mother, and Mikhail was to fetch them dinner alongside the other boys in their little village.

The hares were fast and difficult to spot amidst their white surroundings, and so were their predators. Foxes and hares were the least favourable animals to hunt for their quick nature and natural camouflage that the hunters considerably lacked. While deer or an ox would be easier to spot, their larger physique was a considerable defence against their arrows and quicker to escape or run them down.

The first corpse Mikhail ever saw was the son of his neighbour. Spew out in the crimson snow with limbs contoured unnaturally and red staining his clothes and body. Not knowing what to do, he gently nudged his fellow hunter hoping for him to respond to his name. Dragging back the limp body of Matthias back to their village, Mikhail watched as clear tears swelled in his neighbour's eyes, swooping down their cheeks, freezing into clear ice as they did.

Matthias was the first, never the last.

Days got shorter, and the nights were longer as the bittering cold grew colder and tore into their frail bodies. One by one, the elders fell and never got up again. Parents sobbed, and children cried. But like the days, it was short-lived, and with each death, they only prayed their families were not the next to follow. Mikhail cautiously watched his mother as she slept, the crevices of her face protruding as she lay bundled under the soft furs. Fearful, he watched as her body rose and fell with each breath before releasing a relieved sigh. Smiling to himself - his mother was still alive - they were still lucky.

They were until their luck ran out.

Mikhail treaded through the piled snow, carrying two hares by their ears in his gloved hand, a successful hunt that would feed his family for this night and hopefully onwards. A wide smile etched across his face as he anticipated the incredulous look on his mother as she praised him. His father and sister beamed with delight as they all sat by the fire, sharing stew and smiling. It was a memory he wished to see and enjoy. Shame it would be a tragedy instead.

His mother lay in her bed. Skin cold as the ice skewed in time down their roof, her lips pale blue like the frozen waters. His father wailed loudly, and Alina stood speechless by him. With a thud, the once warm-bodied hares dropped to the cabin floor as the only sound heard was their father's cries and pained moans.

Mikhail was only eleven when his mother died. Eight when he witnessed Adrian sprawled grotesquely in the snow. Perhaps it was because death was almost a daily visitor in his life and resultantly became as cold as the ice king’s palace, which ruled over them with an iron fist and a mind full of indifference. After the death of his mother, he went on with his daily tasks of trying to support his family. His father continued to chop wood, sobbing softly when the blanket of night crept in, and his sister continued to fix their clothes and fluffed the thick furs of the hares and foxes for their winter coats. Not a tear or a wretched whimper escaped her eyes or mouth, but Mikhail saw the agony in her pale eyes.

Months followed; Food became scarce, winter grew longer and harsher, and the ice king was still ignorant of their pleas for support. Mikhail often heard his father and neighbour rants and mournful whimpers for their lost children and lovers.

“We’re not even that far off from the main village, yet that blue dupek has barely done shit.” His father growled, teeth clattering slightly from the sheer cold.

“What makes you think he cares about the main village also? Some folk from there said they have barely seen a glimpse of him besides the occasional recruitment for guards.” There was a scoff. “At this point, no one will be left to recruit.”

He’s thirteen now. Winter had gotten harsher as she bore her fangs like a monster waiting for its meal to arrive. Finding food was more scarce now. Their rations grew slimmer with each passing day. Snow pelleted against their wooden cabins like stones thrown into a shallow river. Alina shuffled closer to him for warmth as her frail stature shivered from the merciless claws of frost. They were scared;

Dymitr, Zofía, and Tatiana were all taken by the gnawing teeth of the snowy wasteland before them. Their bodies were thin and blue from starvation and ice. Mikhail remembered having to bury them with snow as the ground was too hard for him - anyone- to dig through for a proper burial.

Their once small, lively village was now barren and lifeless. Only a few remained sturdy against the blizzards attacking them like arrows from above. Scavenging for food was a death sentence. Ilya, a small red-haired girl with emerald eyes, dropped by and asked for help to scavenge for food. Alina went, desperate and hungry, with Ilya. His father begged and protested for Alina to stay.

“You and big brother are already weak. Let me break something back so we can all eat again.” She spoke gently with soothing words, the last words Mikhail would ever hear of his baby sister: The two girls never returned, and neither went out to look for their bodies. A croak escaped his throat as tears threatened to leave his eyes. Everyone was leaving - dying - it will be his turn soon.

“Mikhail, get dressed: we are leaving.” His father spoke one early morning, dressed in his damaged furred coat and wielding his axe. Mikhail was confused: why are they leaving? But he got dressed and left their ruined cabin.

The boy held onto his father’s hand tightly as they transverse the thick, angelic white ground, a crunch following every step their boots took. They traversed quickly, not wanting to be caught in the frequent snow storms plaguing their little village.

“Were we going, Tata?” He asked meekly, crystal eyes looking up at his father with curiosity.

“Somewhere safe, Mikhail.” He muttered against the frosty winds.

The once-dark sky lit up brightly and shined across the clean slate of snow. A few spruce trees stood tall around them, vibrant green leaves covered by a pale sheet of snow. No matter the time of day, Ice World forever remained as a hell where it was ice tearing you apart like a monster in a cave.

Chapter Text

They reached the edge of their icy mountains to a borderline of snow and bumpy rocks edging down to a sparse forest of lush green. A magical site to the weary eyes of Mikhail and his father as they journeyed into the unfamiliar forest.

Unnatural sounds echoed around them and grew louder every step into the forest. Mikhail tightly grasped his father’s hand for protection: fearful and unfamiliar with the wildlife. The ice world barely had roaming mammals besides the hares, ox, deer and foxes. Mikhail heard of more peaceful creatures roaming near the palace and more ferocious beasts lurking in the more mountainous terrain of their kingdom. Mikhail cautiously observed his surroundings. With so many trees, danger lurked around them, and they could never know until it struck.

A sudden rustle of leaves startled the young boy, pulling urgently at his father in fearful desperation to escape the prowling monster preparing for an attack.

“Mikhail!” The older man snapped at his terrified son with a growl. His brows furrowed together as he turned his head away from the young boy to the moving branches of the tree. Soon enough, after another short moment of rustling, a plump, grey bird flew out with a few tweets.

“See, Chłopiec, it was nothing,” He grumbled, continuing his tread across the spongy marsh ground, removing his trapped hand from his son. Mikhail carefully watched the tree for any more signs of life and then broke into a run when his father called for him. He glanced back briefly, and eyes widened: spotting a figure standing by the large tree where the dove flew out from - that was not there before, right? As he glanced back, the silhouette had vanished without a trace.

Their leathery boots squished against their feet as they got dumped with every step taken through the water-logged forest. Mikhail listened silently to the groans of his father as the older man muttered curses about his drenched boots and useless furred coat - which he soon after took off, and Mikhail followed suit. Mourning the memory it brought of his sister to him as he did - hoping she was safe.

At some point, the density of trees grew slim as only large pools of water and tall blades of grass surrounded them. Strange croaks and soft buzzing accompanied the water-logged area as Mikhail and his father crossed the waist-high waters. Standing tall out of the water were longer blades of grass bobbed with brown fluff at their ends.

Picking one, Mikhail observed the strange plant inquisitively until his father suggested, “Why not eat it?” He tore a piece off of the mysterious brown fur

"Never again," he thought immediately after.

The strange plant released a horrendous wave of fluff inside his mouth and exploded in great puffs with every attempted gulp of air.
It seemed endless as more escaped his mouth as his lungs struggled to gather a single ounce of air. Spitting and gasping, he threw the strange plant to the side as his father loudly laughed out from the display. Despite the horrible moment, Mikhail savoured the hearty laughs of his father, basking in the joy that was once extinct from the older man.

Eventually, they made it to a small village of inhabitants wearing strange helmets embedding a horn - purposes he never knew nor asked. Upon arriving, the unfamiliar locals appeared uneasy but quickly offered them food, shelter, and dry clothing upon learning of their circumstances. They explained their servants to a lady called Medusa and asked if they wanted to join and be her followers.

Mikhail was curious, but his father swiftly declined their offer and reaffirmed they only came for supplies and shelter, and they stayed for a day before departing to resume their journey.

Mikhail asked his father where they were going once the village left their sights. The question remained unanswered since they left their home in the mountains. His father merely replied:

“A new home.” Monotonous and quiet, unsure of his answer. Mikhail never asked again after that.

They found another village after a day of travel, a village full of peasants and their young. Mikhail beamed happily upon seeing other children his age to play with and left promptly to them. They accepted him with open arms and allowed him to play with them in a game of tag.

A barrage of giggles and excited screams echoed as they ran in circles away from each other and the supposed tagged individual.

On the other hand, Mikhail spotted his father speaking to some of the villagers who seemed pensive about something, but the sight quickly left him when a young girl with brown pig-tails patted his arm and shouted, “Tag!”

Turning tail, Mikhail chased the giggling girl and with an outstretched hand-

"Mikhail, we are going." His father shouted out to him, stunning the child in place as he stared back at his father.

"But we just got here!" Mikhail yelled back, brows furrowed together as he protested against his father.

"I'm not calling again. Come, now." The other spat back and turned to leave, not wishing to be left behind Mikhail chased after his father as the pig-tailed girl and other children waved goodbye before continuing their game.

They left not long after arriving. Mikhail hung his head low in sorrow as he left newfound friends behind. His protests to stay fell on deaf ears. Anymore it resulted in the older man yelling.

They made it to a desert, barren and folding out with overlapping grains of sand. It was a great contrast to the ice world, where winter seemed to go on forever as snow piled on around them: It was everlasting summer here as heat spewed down as beads of sweat on Mikhail’s forehead. His father seemed more affected by it: his breathing ragged and squeezed for more air.

When nightfall came, the heat was more manageable as the moon shone in place of the sun. However, they were drained of energy when night fell and set up to sleep until the melting sun rose once more. And when it did, they awoke to sweat covering their bodies and light beaming their eyes.

It seemed like forever and was mind-numbing seeing every pile of sand looking the same, but they made it to a dock where a ship awaited with men loading boxes of cargo onto the large boat. They turned to the approaching pair, and Mikhail’s father asked about going across the ocean to the nearby kingdom. Mikhail had not paid attention to what else had been conversed, but he wished he did: his father nudge him onto the boat, clasped his hands and spoke tenderly in his usual gruff voice.

"Uważaj na siebie, dobrze?" And watched it leave, silently, as his son screamed for him.

“Aren’t you coming with Papa? PAPA!? TATA!”

Mikhail called out, watching the figure of his father slowly disappear into the distance as the boat carried off across the water. A fury of screams and yells escaped the young boy’s mouth as he called out desperately for his father. A stream of warm, salty tears ran down his cheeks as the sailors looked on with pity.

It had only been a few hours since they set off, and peering into their eyes was a bound of land. They had arrived at their destination. Mikhail sat by against the wooden hull of the deck until a sailor came and pulled him away. The young boy did not ask where they were going, defeated, lost and frightened without his father guiding him.

Stood by the unloaded cargo were two knights dressed in colours of purple and grey. Their helmets obscured their faces as they turned to Mikhail. The purple one had a weird array of antlers sticking out, while the other was a simple plain grey. Mikhail assumed the one in grey was a woman: her voice was feminine despite the obstruction of her helmet.

“Hello!” She spoke cheerfully to him as she outstretched a gloved hand to the boy, who quickly recoiled at the sudden gesture, earning a soft exclamation of reassurance from the knight in grey.

“Hey, hey! It’s ok. We are here to help. You came from the world, yes?” The boy reluctantly nodded at the question turning his gaze to the purple knight, who stood silent and still like a statue, unnerving and patient with the boy’s distrust and fear.

“My name is Olivia, and this is Waylan,” She gestured to the knight in purple with a quick swipe of her hand, “yours?”

Mikhail’s father told him never to give away his name to strangers outside their little village in the snow lands. But, when beginning their journey, it seemed his father ignored all aspects of that and gave his trust away to anyone.

“Sometimes trust is the only thing you can give: if you wish to survive.” His father's words echoed around his head as the young boy contemplated indulging Oliva and Waylan in his name. He should trust these knights: Father would never send him here if they weren’t trustable, yes?

“Mikhail. I’m Mikhail.” The young boy muttered softly, pulling at his fingers for comfort. The grey knight took off this helmet, revealing long locks of brown hair, a warm smile and emerald green eyes. She lent out a hand to the child and spoke softly:

“Come, let us take you home and get you settled, yeah?”

Reluctantly, Mikhail took her hand and followed them into a village full of life and wonder. A place where he would grow up and eventually join the royal guard of the kingdom, promoted as one of the few great coloured knights. Skills unmatched by any other and power beyond their imagination.

Chapter Text

In the north of snow and ice, a cerulean knight traverses the familiar land into a castle welded of ice, frost and bodies. A bleeding heart filled with revenge and duty, he ignored the whispers of his allies and barked orders from their commander.

Slippering feet slid across the glittering floor as he ran down the freezing halls. Teeth gritted in anger and eyes blazing with fury. Shouting bounced off the walls but fell on deaf ears as the knight refused to listen.

–

A hoarse laughter spun around them endlessly as icicles danced around while their commander slipped around in fits of laughter as he basked in the dizzied knight's stumbles.

One knight stood taller than the rest. Resting his sword at his side as his eyes followed the ice king from one area to the next, listening to the taunts hurled at them every moment.

Removing his furred gloves, the cerulean knight, using all his might and strength, hurled a blast of ice and frost at the king. His hand shook and turned from red to a clear white. A scream followed and swirled around them like a storm of snow and ice.

–
Encased in a crystal statue of clean ice, the frost king posed with an expression of agony and fear. Gazed upon by the knight in cerulean, a bleeding heart full of revenge and duty, sated by the destruction of the man who left all of his family and people rot under his rule.

A bleeding heart, still bleeding, full of one question, “why does everything feel the same?

“Mikhail?” The knight in blue turned to the one who spoke his name, a knight dressed in crimson red looked upon him with worry, “You doing ok?” She asked gently. Mikhail looked back at the frozen figure.

While his heart still bled, his mind felt at ease knowing the tyrant that plagued his homeland and its people was no more. They were all free.

“Yeah, let’s get going.” Speaking softly, the knight of frost moved away from the frozen statue and followed his comrades out of the frozen kingdom into the dead lands, the realm of the wizard, to finish their final act of duty for their castle and people.

Mikhail looked back once, taking in the sights of his precious homeland, promising to return to bask in her angelic glory once more. He would return to fulfil that promise: filled with eagerness to learn the language and culture of his homeland he so desperately missed.

Chapter Text

Ice world
Primary language is polish but most residents also speak English
While the primary animals spotted in the ice world are penguins, foxes, hares and deer. Polar bears, panthers and other mammals also exist, albeit further out into more mountainous terrain.
There's quite a few villages spread out around the ice world, some closer to the ice castle and others not.
“The long winter” is a known period in the ice world history where the lands had been plagued with frequent severe snow storms, causing damage to settlements, driving animals away leaving many species to starve and die. It was also the period where Ice World had the least inhabitants as many left to seek refuge in the neighbouring kingdoms.

The marsh

While medusa’s lair is seen as the main way into the ice world, there are plenty of other ways to get into the snowy mountains.
The marsh also has a considerable amount of settlements: peasants and the snakey cult (who are mostly stationed close to the ruins.)
I had extreme difficulty describing the marsh: was it a swamp, wetland, bog?? I got very confused when researching to best describe the area so let’s just say it’s all three.
¬> In addition, I headcanon the marsh to be undockable hence why Mikhail and his father had to go to the desert for the boat. Why? If you look at the CC map you’d see the temple ruins by the large lake, thus, I headcanon the snakeys are extremely against the idea of a docking bridge to be built by the ruins where the lake is. Blame them for making us go through the desert in the main game.

Other main notes

At the end of chap 2, waylan, the purple knight, is the blacksmith you can both see and play as in CC.
¬> Regarding this, Waylan at this time is 26, while Mikhail had been stated before to be 13 when he first met him. At around the time during the main timeline of the game, Waylan would be roughly 42 and Mikhail 30. Yeah, they’re pretty old.
¬> “what about the other knights?” you might be asking, another time and another fanfic lore notes.

Olivia, the grey knight, isn’t anyone important from CC. You might wonder if she was a grey knight that dies during the main events of the game, nope, she died way before then. Olivia had been 34 when she had been killed in battle, she was the mother to jesper (the orange knight).