The trail was dark but for the small lantern Hans had managed to sneak out of the castle, cursing as he stopped his horse for what seemed the hundredth time to check the map.
"You went back to the damn parlor to look inconspicuous, and for what?" he muttered to himself, squinting at the vague squiggle of a red line on the worn and yellowed page. "Now you're lost in the mountains the night before your wedding, you've lost a small fortune at whist, and you're pretty sure your excuse to go for a midnight ride didn't work on the stable boy..."
His horse snorted – in amusement or agreement or both, the prince could not tell – and Hans sighed, tucking the page back in his coat pocket as he spurred it onwards.
"Yes, Sitron. I know I'm a fool. I don't need you rubbing it in." He kept their pace at a moderate trot, not wanting to alarm the forest to their presence, and threw a dour glance at the sky above them. "I must be a little rusty reading the stars, or else this place doesn't actually exist—"
A dim light filtering through the trees was just visible ahead of them, its long, slender fingers beckoning them to approach.
His eyes widened at the sight, pausing on the path. "Do you see that, old boy?" he whispered to Sitron, who whinnied quietly with unease. "I think we're finally getting somewhere." The prince nudged his reluctant steed with an apple, gesturing to the bag attached to the saddle. "There's more where that came from, if you get us over there."
Sitron huffed but obliged, trotting even more carefully as the light grew brighter the closer they came to it. When the distant sounds of voices gathered in song were distinct enough for him to make out, Hans motioned for the horse to stop, hopped off the saddle, and drew his hood over his head.
He tied Sitron to a nearby tree, placating him with another apple, and patted him once on the nose.
"I'll be back. Just stay here and don't make a fuss."
The horse seemed to glare at him, at which Hans rolled his eyes with a small smile, leaving the creature to proceed through the forest on foot. He ducked under the cover of tall and broad trees, dipping in and out of their shadows until he was close enough to discover the source of the noise.
In a clearing just a few dozen feet from him was a collection of small, round creatures, seemingly made from natural materials, their joyful, dancing little bodies resplendent and shining from the baubles and jewels and mossy raiment they wore. They paraded around a bonfire as high as the surrounding trees, laughing and singing and waving sticks and other instruments of unidentified purpose in the air with abandon.
"Trolls," he murmured, eyes wide with fascination.
In his distraction, the prince failed to notice the rustling of grass and branches behind him; Sitron's whinnies, likewise, were too far away for him to register, and he found his feet bringing him forward before he had the sense to command them to stop.
A sudden, short cry of dismay from the horse finally broke his concentration, and he shot up, sprinting back into the forest.
"Sitron!" he hissed, glaring into the dark as the cries continued. "What happened, what is it—"
He stopped a few paces short of the tree where he had left his companion, his jaw unhinging of its own accord, frozen in place.
A stag with white fur and piercing blue eyes stood with menacing intent just a few feet from his horse, its antlers sharp and glinting like ice in the faint firelight. It turned to face Hans, beating its hoof against the ground, daring the prince to move.
In the same moment, Hans felt a sharp point at the middle of his back, and he sucked in a breath as Sitron alternated between fearful whimpers and whinnies.
YOU ARE READING
In Fantasy
Fanfiction[Hans x Elsa; A/U] In a desperate bid to save their country from political and financial ruin, King Agnarr and Queen Iduna of Arendelle strike a deal with a former foe, King Albert of the Southern Isles. His price? That their firstborn daughter marr...
