The cold was agonizing; it felt like she was in a tundra, her eyes littered with white.
That was the North.
The barren land that held the barbarians back, the cursed fields of Khione.
A frozen hell, in which the sun never shone, from the swaying trees covered in snow, to the mountain tops that were painted ivory, or the icy lakes frozen solid, or the snow falling like hail, cutting visibility short.
It was why she preferred the Academy; at least then, she wouldn't have to fish icicles out of her long, silver hair. She rubbed her arms, the frigid air stinging her skin.
As much as she didn't like it, perhaps because of Diana's true nature, the icy environment felt awfully like home. A staunch reminder of how different they truly were. To the current Diana, she hated the cold, she hated the way it was hard to move, she hated feeling the need to cover her body with copious amounts of clothes, and most of all, she hated the empty feelings it brought up.
To her, the cold was loneliness. A cabin far off in the woods, devoid of life.
Alone.
And if Diana hated something more than the cold, it would be loneliness.
She shivered and covered herself up with her hands.
Her breath froze as it left her mouth.
"Don't worry, Diana." Ignis chirped from her chest, her bright red feathers warming her up.
"Thanks," Diana quietly whispered as she rubbed her feathers.
A week off school quickly turned into a month. The second week, they dismissed the students and told them that they would inform them when to return.
She bit her lip. She needed a distraction, anything to take it off of the creeping dread.
She pulled a crumpled letter from her coat.
One that she had received from one of her operators.
A way to pass the time while Jorge arrived.
Little Lion and the Merman fight. You were so truthful when you mentioned it, my lovely aunt said they did, but I couldn't believe it. Not until I read this wonderful story about the Tigress and the Merman. It was a fantastic love story. I was confused about the reason they fought. My aunt Crest said it was because the Little Lion didn't want to give up the tigress for free.
Her eyes roamed around the childish writing, the letters her spies gave were always in code, the Lion was Leon, and the Merman was the crown prince of Wer. The blue-haired prince, who sat in front of her at the academy. The tigress, the princess.
In reality, the letter read more like this.
Talks of war between the kingdom of Wer and the Kingdom of Leonhardt are not unfounded. Our intelligence agents have found a link between the Heir of Wer and the Princess of Leo. Agent Crescent reports that Prince Leon is holding the soon-to-be Queen of Wer Hostage.
She crumbled up the paper and gave it to Ignis to dispose of.
What the school thought would get better got worse.
She pulled out a newspaper from her pocket, the only thing she had for entertainment in this lousy clearing.
Perhaps if she stared long enough, it would change.
The bright, bold, inky letters did nothing to help the situation.
Shocking Disappearances!Could there be a vampire on the loose?
It was classic fearmongering.
Beware, the night! Sources deep inside Saxus city have reported hearing screams in the middle of the night, and strangers out in the night have been going missing. The officials refuse to comment further. Could this be the work of a vampire? Vampires are...
It delved into superstitious nonsense, but in a world where vampires actually existed, it wasn't so implausible.
However, Diana was sure it was the crown prince's doing. Yet the news pointed the swords and magic at the vampires.
Her foot sank into the snow, the numbing feeling reaching up to her thigh. Yet the actual snow only reached her heel. Was that just her imagination?
Her long nails dug into her skin.
The ruby red liquid dripped, staining the snow-white ground red.
War and sacrifices.
She gritted her teeth.
The bastard had lost it.
He wasn't even trying to hide his traces. The news did a perfect job for him. If she didn't know from playing the game that he was behind the demon summoning, she also would be clueless.
But she wasn't here to worry about the prince; she had people working on it.
She shook her hair, the piled-up snow falling beside her.
In theory, her mana attuned to ice should have prevented her from feeling the effects of the cold.
She sighed, her lips turning blue.
Maybe it was her disdain for the cold that prevented her from using it, or maybe it was the cursed fields.
Or was it the opening of old scars? The sinking dread and the twisted feeling in her gut that unsynchronized her?
At this point, she couldn't quite care.
She was here waiting for War Chief Jorge and his people to arrive.
"Please, your Grace, take a seat."
Was it her stubbornness, or her guilt, that prevented her from sitting down at a tarp near the fire and eating a lavish meal while issues that she couldn't resolve were happening?
Maybe.
She shook her head and rubbed her forehead.
"Is there something wrong, your grace?" A tall man with a bushy beard that was as black as coal asked, his short black hair matched his beard. His yellow eyes, a sharp contrast, like a predator. The crest of a wolf was imprinted in his silver armor.
Fenrir, her loyal knight.
"Thinking." She hummed as she touched her chin, her lovely warm phoenix moving to her shoulder as she nuzzled her neck.
He nodded and returned to looking ahead. His black hair flowed with the turbulent winds.
"Do you think they'll be okay?" She tilted her head upwards.
Her vision was clouded.
If Diana squinted hard enough, she could perhaps see the Sun hiding behind the snow-white clouds, or the pouring snow.
It was a question from left field, maybe it was the depressing atmosphere, but her morbid thoughts began to drift.
She tilted her head to look at him.
He stepped back, his forehead wrinkled, his hand, which rested on the pommel of his sword, moved to scratch his chin.
Fenrir turned to look at the swaying trees, the white meshed with green. His mouth curled slightly. An iota of a smile on his lips, so indiscernible, maybe only she could have seen it.
Was this normal with Northerners? Their faces always were so stiff. So dull, so depressing. If so, she fit right in.
"It is not my place to think, your grace." The howling winds attempted to mask his words. The crystallized ice was falling slowly.
It was a cop-out.
An answer given when you didn't know, or didn't want to upset.
Or maybe it was the etiquette of a hound, a knight loyal to your rank.
Don't question your lord, the nonsensical drivel of people obsessed with titles.
Just as she was about to turn, he spoke.
"However." His eyes became unfocused as he faced her, his head bowing lightly. The look in his eyes was shrinking, steadying into something else, different.
Sentiment?
"If you are anything." He paused, inhaling a long breath of the freezing air. If it affected him, it didn't show on his face.
"Anything like your father, which I know you are." His fingers curled into a fist, unclenching them as he spoke. The wrinkled lines on his forehead smoothed. The curling of his lips came undone.
"Then I know, they will be fine." He glanced at her with a ghost of a smile on his lips, it fleeing faster than the sunlight in the north.
"Thanks." Her lips subtly twitched. Her crimson eyes glowered as she looked up at the hidden sun.
If only her loyal knight, knew that she was nothing like her father.
An impostor wearing Diana's skin.
She didn't even know her father.
<><><><>
After a while in this frozen hell, the sound of a wagon arriving echoed.
"They're here," Fenrir stated, as he moved in front of Diana, his squire, in grey and silver clothing, held his shield as he stood beside him. A plume of red feathers adorned his cap.
Soon, War Chief Jorge arrived with a small group of people. A wagon, led by a donkey, was behind him.
The War Chief stepped forward. His footsteps were deep in the snow.
For someone practically wearing nothing, he did not look the least bit affected. The only ice she could visibly see was his expression. Colder than any snow she had felt.
But she knew it was just how he looked.
He got closer, which made Fenrir step in front, his heavy great sword in the snow.
Jorge tilted his head, his lips tightly pressed together as he observed Fenrir, his eyebrows furrowing.
"Pass."
Fenrir spared him a glance.
He nodded to himself and then pounded his chest. The force cleared the snow around him, the green grass freed from the snowy oppression.
in seconds, it filled.
"Jorge, son of Thall, blessed by the Lord of War, Chief of the Netzhu"
The snow that was flicked in Fenrir's direction curved to dodge him. His yellow eyes narrowed, Fenrir lifted his chin in greetings, his hand wrapping around the hilt of his great Sword tightly.
"This is Sir Fenrir von Koenig, Leader of the Hatihan Knights." The squire spoke.
Jorge turned to look at the squire, and then at Fenrir.
"Not much of a talker, is he?"
He was met with silence.
He relaxed his shoulders and rolled them.
"Well, I'm not one myself." He shrugged, turning to the squire.
"And you are?"
"Skald, a humble squire." He did a flourished bow; the shield was tightly held with one hand.
"Miles, Perdu, Alyssa, Jathu, Lyke."
He pointed at the people behind him.
Each one had a different feel from the rest. The first wore a mask, with feathers attached to the top; the mask was a blazing sun.
Perdu, didn't even wear a shirt, his pants held by twigs. His hair, brown and short like a fade. While his skin was tan.
Alyssa had long black hair that wrapped around her waist. Her emerald eyes were similar to Jorge's, and she had a cloak on.
Jathu wore a hunter's cloak and a hood that resembled a Jaguar.
Lyke wore a red and colorful robe. She had round glasses, and a smile permanently etched on her face.
He turned back and got on his knees; the rest followed closely.
"The remaining leaders of this community wish to pledge their allegiance personally." He spoke with a bowed head.
"We greet the daughter of Thunder." They spoke in unison, the cloudy sky thundered as if to affirm them.
Fenrir's face twitched. Diana didn't find this strange; the north had always been staunch worshipers of the gods of winter. Fenrir himself was a worshiper of the god of wolves. Diana couldn't quite remember the god's name; it was something like Hathur or Lunus.
She shook her head mentally and sucked in a frigid breath.
Diana looked at them with shining red eyes.
"Rise, children of the north, we kneel to no one."