Kira the Ice Queen’s POV

I heard Andrei’s words, but I had already been aware of the circumstances. As if to confirm my suspicions, a fog quickly rose and obscured the way until I could just barely spot the tip of the horses’ muzzles. 

I did not dare to look behind me, for even a second would be enough for us to fall prey to an ambush, and I was certain one awaited us. Many times I had frequented the roads of the empire with my father, yet even the Dead Winter’s fog did not come so quickly.

Within the thick gloves, I curled my fingers many times, reaffirming my grip on the reins. The attack would most likely come from the front, to halt the horses first. Then they would flank from the sides, to block our escape. 

‘Plan for the worst. Then you will be prepared for anything but.’ I repeated this mantra in my head, and kept my breath steady. Any minute now.

The first sign came before the others would have recognized it. A very obvious shift in the flow of mana. Like a boulder dropped into a pond, the mana rushed in all ways, forced in all directions by a crude manipulation of magic. 

I knew the effect, but I could not evade it now. In an instant the earth shifted and fell where the wagon’s front wheels approached. As they struck the deep trench, I rose quickly from my seat and jumped quickly aside. My poor younger brother would be in for a rough ride, but I needed to be fit and able to defend him once the initial attack was done.

With a wince I watched as the wagon flipped back over front until it crashed upon its top, the horses rushing onwards into the unknown, hitched only to the tongue of the wagon. Then came the cries of our assailants.

“My lady, come behind me!” Andrei shouted from the other side of the wreckage. Nothing moved from beneath the canvas, but I could only hope for now. Quickly I rose from the dirt and began an incantation.

The frost coalesced about my hands and heeded my call. As a member of the royal bloodline, the magic of the North raged within my veins, and I was familiar with the mana of my homeland.

Unlike when the ambushers had cast their spell, I wasted little of the mana around me. From my formal training, it had been instilled in me that a mage guided the surrounding mana rather than forcing it. By understanding its ebb and flow I could use it with utmost efficiency.

Forcing mana was a wasteful effort that spent most of a mage’s energy, and thus the enemies must already be worn by their spell. 

It wasn’t until I reached Andrei’s side that the first attackers came into view.

“Bandits!” I shouted to Andrei, and he nodded, taking a defensive posture, His massive figure that could nearly rival my father’s imposed upon this small battlefield while a long blade of northern steel shone within his monstrous hands.

“Allow me to confront them, Your Majesty! Your magic will be unhindered from behind me!” Though quick to violence and far too overprotective of the royal family at most times, when it came to battle, these traits made Andrei the finest guard there was.

His slow advance was a trained approach. Through years of serving my father in the war he had learned to beat back foes of any number while protecting his charge. It was a sight to see, and my first time witnessing it with my own eyes.

Before I lost myself further in admiration, I began my concentration on the mana within and without my body. Drawing them into a single stream, shards of ice formed behind me one by one, sharp and sleek. 

Though a veteran warrior, Andrei was but one man, and a few bandits flanked him easily. “Get the princess! She’s casting spells!”

Andrei did his best to stop them with a swing of his sword, but two of the masked aggressors slipped past and sprinted quickly towards me. I kept my calm, and thrust a hand forth, directing the ice spears forth, weaving my hands quickly to maintain the spell behind me. 

The spears struck accurately, impaling the duo and throwing them to the snow, unmoving. The fog was slowly receding, and the full battlefield came into view. The once white snow we tread upon had become stained pink and red. 

The bandits were dwindling in number, but Andrei was tiring, still fending off the remaining bandits. Blood dripped from his hands and his face, his body already marked here and there with scratches and bruises. 

I began a slow advance, weaving my hands to send spear after spear to strike the unaware enemies. Swiftly they began to drop to the snow, impaled in their backs by shards of ice that had become the length of my forearm. 

Their cries of pain were cut short with every swing of Andrei’s sword. The glinting steel had become stained red, and with this, victory was in our grasp.

Without delay, I sprinted to the overturned wagon, searching inside for Feliks. “Feliks!” I cried, but no response came as I clambered about on my hands and feet until I found an opening tore through the canvas, where the lower half of a man’s body extended out from.

I grabbed the man’s legs and heaved him out, sending him sliding out. Judging by the fact that he had all four limbs, it wasn’t the peasant. His head was bent out of position. Dead as a doornail. 

Readying a blade of ice about my hand I threw my head through the opening, raising the makeshift weapon to defend against any attacks, but none came. As I craned my neck about to check every inch of the wagon, my heart sank.

There was no one in here. Not the cripple nor Feliks. “No… i-it can’t be! That traitor!” The despair quickly transformed to an icy rage as I felt my blood chill and my vision start to blur. 

Before my emotions could entirely take hold, I forced myself back out. Andrei had already finished with cleaning up the last remnants of our ambushers, and jogging over to me. 

I turned my head from the opening in the canvas and saw a trail of red-splotched snow leading into the fog away from the road. As Andrei rushed to my side and attempted to help me to my feet, I shook my head and pointed to the blood trail from the wagon. “After him! Now!”

Peasant’s POV

I opened my eyes to shouts and a pulsing pain in my head. I rolled over onto my stomach, attempting to rise before smacking my head against something hard. I blinked my eyes before taking in what happened.

The wagon was overturned, and all the baggage had strewn itself over the canvas that had saved my body from becoming an exhibit display for the generations to come. I searched for the bundle of furs that indicated young Feliks before spotting his curled form in the corner of the wagon, pinned between the wagon seats and the ground.

I crawled over, clearing a path among the luggage. A sharp pain shot up my leg as I felt the wound start to tear open where I had lost my foot. I bit down on my lip to endure through the burn.

When I finally reached him, I looked close, spotting the faint traces of the young prince’s frosty breath escaping his lips. ‘Knocked out by the impact.’

“Young prince?” I raised my hand to his cheek, giving it a few soft slaps, seeing if that would wake him, but there would be no such luck. 

Seeing that it would be upon my shoulders to get us from this situation, I curled my back against the wagon, bracing my one foot against the ground and my left knee with it. Pushing with all my strength, I attempted to shift the wagon to the side to free Prince Feliks. 

With a creak and a scrape against hard earth, it shifted a few inches. Bit by bit I managed to slide the wagon enough to free the prince. As I grabbed him and pulled him close, a tearing sound came from behind.

Turning my whole body around I saw a man who was armored in a confused choice of pieces. Only his upper body had clambered through the opening. With a half breastplate and only one gauntlet, unkempt hair and dirt smeared face, I surmised, “Bandit?”

To which he answered, “You’re not the prince!”

Then his eyes fell upon the bundle of furs and prince in the crook of my arm. “There you are!”

He lunged forward, sweeping a sharp knife at my face. In quite possibly one of the least intelligent decisions I had made ever in my memorable life, I raised my arm to block the attack, only to receive a knife cutting a deep gash through my forearm, spraying blood inside the wagon.

I yelped, trying to clutch at my arm, only to be disappointed by the fact I only had one. The knife became lodged in the wood of the wagon, and the bandit flailed to free it. Seeing my one chance I leaned back and kicked hard at the man’s head. 

I had only meant to force him away, but there was a sickening crack as the man’s neck hit the edge of the wagon and his head bent in a terrible way. I shuddered as he flopped to the ground without another sound. 

Without a second thought I dragged the prince towards the opening, pulling him tight into the crook of my arm before thrusting myself into the outside. 

The first thing that struck me was the freezing wind. It sent a jolt down my spine and I fell, prince fur bundle and all, right into the snow. Catching my breath, I used my leg to lift myself up, barely able to rise to my knees. 

Once again I looked down at the stub where my foot should have been and winced. ‘This is going to hurt.’

Even after mentally preparing myself, I was nowhere near ready for the shock that came next. Putting weight on the stub, I pushed myself up to a standing position, leaning heavily on the stub that had fully torn open. Looking down, blood began running from the bandages into the snow below. 

I heard shouts in all directions, some were orders, and others were cries of pain. Steel crashed against steel against steel on one side of the wagon. The winds rushed all towards one location. All the bandits seemed to be focusing over there.

“It’s the prince!” A gruff shout came from somewhere in the fog. I couldn’t see from where the voice originated, but I knew they saw me, and that only spelled trouble for me.

“Damn it all, I can barely run.” I groaned, resisting the urge to drop the limp prince and grope at my stubby leg.

The bundle of prince spoke from its awkward position in the crook of my arm, “I’m scared. Don’t leave me.”

‘Not like I planned to’  I thought to myself. I began limping away at the fastest speed I could muster, leaving a steady trail of blood as something whizzed past.

“I’ve got him!” Came yet another voice. This one was far closer, and that worried me. Without a second thought I lunged off the road and towards the dead forest that lines both sides of it. The fog was left behind and instead I faced the brutal wind and the uneven ground.

The bandages about the stump of my leg slowly seeped from white to a red hue. The pain was dulling, but not quick enough. Each step commanded a grunt, and I felt the prince clutching to my arm and body for dear life. 

‘Even if he is royalty, he must have never faced such a threat to his life. Though… have I?’ If only I could remember my past. Another force of wind passed behind my head and an arrow lodged into a tree only inches from my face. 

That cut my thoughts short as I began my limping sprint again. 

“Quit running you! Make this easy on me!” came that same voice from before. I turned away for a second to see a man covered from toe to neck in fur lined leather armor pieces. A jerkin clung tight to his form, and padded pants kept his body warm.

A slow envy filled me. ‘I wish I had the privilege of warmth.’ I could swear the blood upon my wounds was already freezing up as it left my body. 

However, that moment focused away from the path ahead of me would spell my defeat. My good foot tripped right over a tree’s roots and I found myself tumbling down into the snow, along with the prince. 

He yelped out in surprise as he was flung past from me against a tree trunk. I winced as I watched his small form impact the bark, but he would survive. I began scrambling back up to my feet, but my leg would not cooperate.

“It’s over, give up your struggling!” The man was almost upon us, and there was no way I’d be getting away any time soon. I turned over onto my back to face the man.

His face had various small scratches and scars, with uneven patches of facial hair across it. His eyes were near pale, and his lopsided smile stood out with such even, white teeth.

As he came closer, a shortsword in hand, he waved it over me, as if searching me with it. 

“You aren’t one of their lackeys, who are you? Actually, I don’t care. I’ll even cut you a once in a lifetime offer: just let me take the prince, I’ll let you off, no cost.” He shrugged, as if there was no question about what the right choice was.

“I’m assuming I’m a dead man, if I don’t?”

“You’ve got it! So, what’ll it be, peasant?”

I looked back at the kid, into his frightened face, and those swirling blue orbs of fear beneath the bundle of furs surrounding him. They shone an ice blue, beautifully, despite the horror that filled him.

“Please…” That was the only word he whispered out from his trembling lips, and I knew it was not from the cold.

I turned back, facing the aggressor. What would I have done before all this? Was I a good person? Was I selfless, or did I live for myself? Which was better here? Better for who?

Too many thoughts. It was better I started making choices as whoever the hell I wanted to be, rather than trying to guess who or what I once was.

“Alright, I’ve got no choice. He’s yours.”