Against the Rules (Elsa x Male reader)

Introduction

Another night; 

Another job;

Another death; 

Retribution;

 Clockwork-- that's how it always felt. An endless cycle of cutting down flesh. But you never questioned it as the answer was simple. Just get the job done. You were neither a saint nor the devil in your own eyes. Just a man that spills blood to prevent more from being spilt.

That's how you always viewed yourself and as mean to carry on with the mission. However, many will definitely rebut this view and just claim you are just a cold-blooded murderer. You chuckle to yourself at that thought as they wouldn't even know you existed in the first place unless you needed them to; this was usually for the guild's sake.

You quickly dismiss these thoughts as you settle yourself on top of a branch in a crouched position, it was time for reconnaissance.                        

You look around, the thick canopy of forest trees were so dense even the moonlight could not pierce it. Your surroundings were pitch black barring for the numerous torches illuminating the cages lined up in rows of ten and stacked five high. Slave traders walking around the cages in which there were children, women and men.

They looked deathly thin, malnourished beyond belief. They were no different from just being a lump skin held up by bones, "Pack em up boys! We leave at first light to Arendelle, if we do good boss says we'll get a bonus." You heard a trader yell, you assume he was the one leading this particular job.

You scan the area for a quick headcount of the traders, five in total, "Pretty little things," one of the traders called out cooing at a young woman who looked no older than seventeen, "Wonder what you did to accrue such a debt."

 "Oi! Charles stop flirting with the whore! You know what boss said about tainting the merchandise, best not touch them lest you end up with your head liberated from your body." Another man warned gravely as he throws the girl into the cage and stacks it on top of another before proceeding to light up the cigarette in his mouth. 

"He's no longer the boss since that new guy just showed up and started giving all these ideas." A slight tone of irritation could be detected from the one who you assumed was Charles.

There were no more than fifty captives kept prisoner their own respective hell holes. You clench your fists, these men were scum no better than the devil himself. They all deserved what was coming their way. Finally, it was the time to start what you were sent to do. You pulled up the mask that was resting around your neck, checked the daggers were in place—Strapped to your thighs and the crossbow on your back.

You proceed to jump off the branch you were once on. The moment you hit the ground, a mist starts to form behind you and rushes towards the site where the traders were unaware of their impending demise. "Shut it you two fu—What the hell! Where did this fog come from!?" A third man yelled joining in the argument that was taking place.

"I'm not a bloody wizard, how the fuck would I know! Just finish up the loading so we can leave, this is starting to give me the creeps." You step forward and a small gap in the fog appeared giving you a direct line of sight of the one called Charles. You draw your crossbow.

Click.

Thud.

The gap that was once there is now gone and a body lies in its place. Four remained. "Did you hear that?" The man with the cigarette yells in distress. "Shut it Stevens stop trying to scare everyone and just do your job." The third man from earlier yelled back. But you knew from his voice, he too was scared.

You smirk. Steven tries to head to the cage to move it but the cigarette falls from his mouth. His hand swiftly rushes to his throat where he felt a pang and his mouth agape. A soft groan escapes his lips as he eyes connect with yours and before flicking to the dagger in your hand stained with his crimson sanguine. Blood pours out, covering his hands. Try as he might, they provided little aid to stop wound that now bled profusely—Death was imminent.

Click.

Thud. 

Stevens falls face-first onto the floor with an arrow sticking from the back of his head. The fourth trader that was at the campfire rushes to his feet in alarm. 'What the fuck!' he yells as he picks up the sword that was resting on the floor next to him.

He starts to go around in circles in the mist sword at ready, but it was all too evident that he truly wasn't. His hands were trembling and his eyes were darting around, trying to spot anything in the dense mist. You simply tap him on his shoulder from behind and he immediately turns and slashes through the mist, parting it at the spot you once stood.

The sword he held drops to the floor as his hand grabs the dagger that was sticking through his throat, not even a gasp able to escape him. You twist the dagger ninety degrees— It was now horizontal. Ripping it out from the side of his throat, his blood came gushing out. He collapses onto the floor and in mere seconds, a pool of blood starts to form around his body. 

Three down two to go you thought as you quickly made your way to the third man. "Did you finally shut up Steven? Thank the heavens we can finally work in quiet." The third man makes his way to the makeshift campfire where the fourth trader was. Like before, a gap in the mist rapidly formed, revealing the last sole survivor of the group he was no longer there.

He must've been able to slip through the mist. You curse at yourself for being too slow in giving the others the mercy of death, far from what they truly deserve. You brush it off as dumb luck and at that moment the mist that enveloped the site was gone.

Many members of the guild at this point would just head back to collect what was promised for the job's completion. But you couldn't just leave all these people to rot in the cages only to be found and sent straight back in the hands of the ones who had enslaved them. But that would take around a week and the slaves would be long dead by then.

You went around all the cages breaking the locks to free them, handing some of them more capable men the weapons of the fallen and tell them to head in the direction where Arendelle was. They turn around to thank you but you had already disappeared.