A Saga Of Ice And Fire

Chapter Twenty-Six - The Valley Of The Living Rock

The display of multicoloured lights blazed brilliantly in the silent night sky. They moved in great swaying bands of colour, ebbing and flowing like some sort of magical, mystical being. On some nights they would resemble the swirl of a nascent rose that had begun to open, sometimes a great river, and other times , as it looked to be at the moment, it resembled the movement of a graceful dancer , the breathtaking ribbons of light interlocked in a silent ritual of back and forth motion , ethereal and other worldly. The snow days had begun to subside now and spring seemed to be peeking from the horizon , a welcome change to Arendelle who'd been seeing mostly white for most days for the past few months. The last few remnants of white powder littered the streets as if it was savouring it's receding moments of glory before being completely extinguished until the next winter fall.

It was past midnight and the King of Arendelle sat alone in his office , reading a long memo that was slipping through his brain without leaving the faintest trace of meaning behind it. The more he tried to force himself to focus on the writing , the more he found his attention flickering to a million other thoughts that served no connection to what he was reading at the moment. It had been a long , difficult and tiring week and Agnarr didn't have much space in his head for anything else. He needed a break. Away from all the duties and responsibilities that gave him no spare moment to breath, let alone relax or spend time with his daughters. Maybe he ought to head over to Laugardia with his family for a quick private retreat and freshen up. He turned over the scroll to check how much longer the paragraphs went on and gave up entirely, letting himself fall back into his chair, yawning in a manner that was far too improper for someone of his stature. But he could care less.

With a slight shiver, he got up and moved over to the fire place in his office. The fire seemed to have quiet down a bit. Reaching for the few spare logs lying nearby in a basket, he flung them into the fireplace and began prodding and turning the wood over, making sure the flames left no space untouched and didn't die out. He then walked over to the windows behind his desk . The thin layer of mist that pressed itself against the glass from the outside prevented him any proper view of the outside and he was left staring at a clear reflection of himself. He looked weary, exhausted. He looked far older than he actually was, the crinkles and lines etched on his face appearing more prominent now than ever. He often found himself envious of his ministers. They could afford to make mistakes or be erroneous in the way they carried themselves. He , however, could do no such thing. Many often yearned to be the king or ruler and he knew some of his own ministers would most likely even kill for such an opportunity but only those who truly bore such a responsiblity knew of the hardships and weight it brought on . It was like a hat : one that looked entirely grand, commanding and fashionable but weight like a ton of bricks and left the wearer with a sever back pain all the same. He wouldn't wish it upon anyone , if he could. He found himself feeling sorry for the children, not just his, who were born to bear the weight he and others like him carried. If given any other option, in a perfect world, he knew he'd much rather shield Elsa and Anna from such hardships but the world he was given was far from ideal and despite how he felt about it, Elsa would have to learn to bear the weight of the crown once it was her turn. So must Hiccup.

It had been only a few days since the boy had departed for the Meridian of Misery so suddenly. Naturally the royal household had grown curious as to why the Viking had left so abruptly . Agnarr knew that the dragon raid on his village played a part on his abrupt leave and that was what was informed to anyone who would ask ; but he also wasn't naïve enough to believe that it was the sole reason for the boy's sudden drastic decision. But for the time being, he'd figured it was best not to push him as it might just send him deeper into a shell, which was not what Agnarr wanted. And furthermore, his father , King Stoick , The Vast, was scheduled to arrive in Arendelle for their meeting in a months time but now, in most likelihood, it'd be delayed as a result of the dragon raid : he was needed on Berk far more than anywhere else given the current situation. Agnarr would often find himself thanking the lord for not having to go through a thing such as that. He didn't know how he'd have to cope with it, considering that they had utterly no experience dealing with dragon attacks, god forbid if a whole nest rained down on them . No. He didn't even face any radical political opposition in Arendelle like what the Imperial High King Rurik had to deal with in Vekretta, where the riots were protests every now and then, from what he was told. Agnarr mused how lucky he was that didn't have to deal with either such situations and yet here he was, mourning about matters that seemed trifle compared to what his counterparts faced. How very lucky he was.