#I imagine Gale's love language includes gift giving

[satanicspinosaurus]

Seconds

Tags: Bloodweave, Gale’s cooking, blood, cow’s blood, gift giving, fluff, getting together, after a break up, basically two hungry and scared people trying to figure out the world, Gale’s POV, so enjoy all his insecurities, and some verbose writing choices that are intentional, Astarion snark, kissing, ear touching, frankly you can read half of this as a metaphor for sex, author can’t stop you, author thinks it would be a mistake though 

Length: 2k

Rating: Teen

Read on A03: here.

Summary: Gale and Astarion had struck up a friendship after a failed night of romance. Now, with the Netherbrain fight around the corner, Gale finds his heart still aches to give Astarion any scrap of happiness he can offer. This is a story about a man made of failures and hunger, trying to be a good friend. It begins with a steak. And ends with this most delicious second course.

With thanks: To my dear friend @lumienyx, who is frankly encouraging my bullshit at an alarming rate. And to the lovely @tragedybunny who hunted down the typos and errors on this like Tara feasting on pigeons. 

•・・・◉・・・•

Gale rummaged through the spice cabinet of the Inn. He was pleased to see that the cook, who had allowed him to slip her a few gold coins for access and privacy, had managed to craft a solid selection. The sprig rosemary seemed a touch too on the nose, so he grabbed a little bundle of thyme instead- striping it into the butter as the filet sizzled in the cast iron skillet.

It was a delicate process, mainly because he was aiming for as close to rare as humanly possible to achieve. It didn’t give him much time to develop a proper crust, but as Gale spooned the butter back onto the filet, he also pulled from the Weave. Perhaps he asked more than normally would be needed for a simple cantrip. But he needed to infuse all the wonderful things Astarion deserved to taste in it. 

Astarion meandered in a few moments later, when Gale had plated it and was intensely overseeing the food resting as if he could personally will it to perfection. 

The vampire gave a sharp tut after observing the scene, perhaps annoyed his entrance hadn’t been noted. 

“When you said you had a surprise for me to try, darling, I assumed it would be something that would make me interested in swallowing,” the vampire finally said to announce his presence.  

Gale looked up brightly at where the playful swatting came from, a warm smile breaking onto his face. He laid the best knife and fork he could find near the plate and pushed it forward.  

“Ah, trust me my dear friend,” Gale encouraged. “I do believe I have made some acceptable advances since the last time you tried my cooking.” 

That had been back when Astarion was still trying to hide what, and more importantly, who he was. Perhaps it had helped in the long run though. It had taught Gale that Astarion could put a wide variety of things in his mouth and pretend to love it. Later, after sampling a decent red Astarion claimed to be vinegar, Gale had come to the quick conclusion that vampirism negatively affected the culinary practice of taste. 

The idea was tantalizing to him. In part because no bestiary had even half the details he could observe in a single evening around Astarion. But he also hoped to reach past the honeyed words for the real truth. 

He was curious, in particular, about why Astartion still attempted to drink wine. It said something about appetite that felt vaguely nostalgic to Gale. 

But then Tav, who had uncritically eaten up Astarion’s sweet smiles and words at the party, eagerly indulged in their place of origin first. Gale didn't feel hurt that Astarion preferred someone else's straightforward affection over his own questions. The tadpoles had made their timelines risky and fortune favored the bold. 

It was a short thing, in the end though. After one encounter, Tav ultimately found her heart lay more with Karlach’s wholesome sweetness. It was better fit for her than wrestling with the delicate halflies that laid nestled to hide half-truths in Astarion’s heart. If it had hurt him, the vampire hadn’t let on, going back to mulling around the camp with hungry eyes and talking of desires. 

And once again, Gale was left turning over the dozens of little curious details about appetite Astarion occasionally dropped; trying to lay them out and find the bigger picture. Gale had been too confident of his ability to uncover that truth once again. Astarion’s sudden thrust backing onto the dating scene hadn’t struck him as quite so desperate, but a beautiful mystery he alone could solve.

He was grateful his hubris had at least allowed him the chance of friendship with Astarion. Rather than once again stripping him of everything when he inevitably failed. No, he savored the friendship he was allowed. Even if, quietly, his heart still wanted to give Astarion all the beauty his mind could dream of and his hands could weave. 

The food was a meager offering, really, but the wizard was happy to see Astarion shrug and sit down to try it. 

Maybe it wasn’t everything Gale had dreamed of in his books to see a bit of excitement build on the man’s face when he delicately sniffed his offering. He was not worthy of giving a thousand days and nights of little pleasures to anyone, it would seem. But, oh, if his heart didn’t flutter a bit at how Astarion’s eyes widened slightly when he gracefully cut into the steak and a weave-enhanced aroma wafted up. 

Gale had truly grown to enjoy his time spent in friendship with the pale elf. He was a stellar, if not acerbic, conversationalist. And the only other person at camp that enjoyed books beyond bawdy romances. Astarion was a person Gale could imagine being around every day for decades without it ever becoming boring. Well, assuming Gale wouldn’t be left alone because the vampire wandered off to find more interesting company than a stuffy wizard. 

At least for now, sometimes he’d say something clever and elicit a sharp grin. Or he’d make a genuine offer to want to properly introduce Astarion to Tara once this was all over, and something soft would grow on the man’s face before he schooled it away. Hells, even walking around Baldur’s Gate and just commenting on architecture with him made Gale desperate to show Astarion Waterdeep.  

It was clear his dear friend had a taste for the finer things in life, but had been left starved. Gale wanted to lay out a banquet for him, to hear his commentary and innovate until he found satisfaction. It was a beautiful thought for the future, but that was a thing still being written. 

Gale needed to try and take that joy and give it in lump sum, lest the worst happened tomorrow. There were notes in his pack on leads Astarion could begin searching down for help finding a place in the sunlight, that he’d entrust to a messenger soon. A desperate letter to his mother, hoping she would extend the clan’s aid to his dear friend. A few letters of introduction that Gale prayed would be enough to get Astarion a chance to observe rare books at Candlekeep if he so needed.  

In the meantime, Gale had but this moment. Watching Astarion primly take a bite of the filet and chew as if he was a bit out of practice. 

This wasn’t the first time Gale had cooked something special for someone - he had a sophomoric idea of what facial expressions to expect. Like always, Astarion didn’t disappoint though with novelty. There was a strange look on his face; emotions roiling so intensely nothing had a beginning nor end. 

“This is shit,” Astarion eventually hissed. 

Gale offered up open palms, apologetic shoulders, and the broken in, embarrassed smile of a man so used to his reach exceeding his grasp in anything that truly mattered. 

“I’m sorry,” he began. “You don’t have to finish it–” 

Astarion looked him dead in the eye. When he had Gale's full attention, he stabbed the piece of meat like it had been carved from Cazador himself. He brought it to his mouth and bit down. Hard. Hard enough Gale could hear the cutlery screech in protest. 

Astarion was a messy eater- a man of singularly devouring hunger. The blood from the filet trickled down his chin, to his chest, marking him temporarily like Gale’s own source of perverse appetite.

Gale watched him swallow and ruminate. 

“This tastes like goodbye,” the man drawled, eyes pinning Gale to his spot. “I don’t like it.” 

Gale smiled, trying to ignore the first thing and address only the second. 

“Well, sometimes experiments don’t always work out,” he began to affably ramble. “I did believe that a few uses of prestidigitation would help overcome your normally exclusively sanguine diet, but I would still appreciate if you could offer some notes-” 

While Gale had been prattling about cantrips, Astarion had decided to switch from rumination to predation. He had gotten up, head refusing to move as he stalked towards Gale like a cat fixated on a songbird. The vampire pounced, slamming the wizard into the cabinets. All it took was a bold hand wrenching one wrist up above his head and a tongue thrust into his mouth to strip him of his power, his self-image as Gale of Waterdeep. 

Astarion devoured Gale Dekarios’ mouth, eating up the moans his actions elicited.  

After a second or eternity, the poor man wasn’t sure which, Astarion broke away to let Gale pant. 

“I want seconds,” Astarion commanded, his other hand running down a thigh- barely keeping to a space that wouldn’t be scandalous if someone walked in. 

Gale tried to master his fluttering heart, to let it accept air and nourishment so it would stop screaming in his chest almost loud enough that it drowned out the orb. 

“You don’t,” he gasped, licking his lips before trying again. “You said you don’t do seconds.” 

That was one of the first, sharp pieces of truth Astarion had flung at him, after their night of gentle love making had cracked through a mask made to suffer only harsh blows. 

People don’t use me twice, he had lilted in the morning. After he had time to lick the wounds Gale’s gentle praise had inflicted and compose himself back to untouchable beauty. Go find someone you can wake up with a thousand times. 

That was back when Astarion wasn’t sure if he would be free, but Gale was still hopeful a solution was available for his own woes. Now things had changed. 

Gale felt the grip on his wrist tighten. Nails that bit into his skin, fearful that without the contact there would be nothing. It was the touch of a man who had rejected the stolen pleasures of ascending, and now wished to ground himself in freely offered affections. 

“I didn’t want you to die,” Astarion offered quietly as his body screamed in accordance. “But I am realizing now that not dying is second to living.” 

Gale wanted to soothe away the worry on the man's face. To cradle the pressed brow gently and let it entrust all its worries to him. But Astarion held him firm. No matter - Gale always had a clever tongue.

"With the number of threats our group has managed to vanquish in the last tenday alone, I think our odds are very good at succeeding, Astarion."

Astarion laughed, letting go of Gale’s wrist to poke at the site where the orb marked him. “I know this is your back-up plan, Gale. Maybe you’ll blow yourself up if we struggle too much against the Netherbain. Maybe you’ll let Mystra own you to remove it. Or she’ll use it as a threat to bargain against your interest in the Crown. But I am tired of petty tyrants’ wants and demands.” 

“She’s a Goddess, Astarion, it’s not remotely-” Gale tried to interject. 

Astarion didn’t even dignify that with a verbal response. He simply looked at Gale, eyes flickering from where the orb burned him to his own, violently marked neck. Astarion knew what manufactured pain was, appetites unanswered. It was why they spoke so easily, they shared this perverse second language. 

“You deserve a choice too,” Astarion eventually said. 

The first kiss in the kitchen was Astarion’s - passionate and aggressive to hide the tenderness it came from. The second was Gale’s - slow and soft, an adventure that ended with being more daring by the hearth. They weren’t so different. Both had left a man gasping for more, a hand traveling to places to hint at encores. 

Astarion leaned into the way Gale’s fingers gripped his curls, the pad of his thumb ever so slightly brushing against his ear in a way that would barely be considered scandalous if anyone ever came in. 

“What if I wanted to choose a second Mr. Dekarios?” Gale whispered. 

Astarion had a talent for saying one thing, but meaning another. It was intoxicating to Gale. The way he could roll his eyes and bring up a lip in a perfect sneer that to an onlooker signaled disgust embodied, a hint of fang and claws coming out. But oh, if the man wasn’t still tender to the touch- a gentle weight that was as inviting as his words were barbed. A secret laid out only for him to discover.

“Well, you should probably get better at cooking, darling. I have no clue how you plan to catch any self-respecting man in your current situation.” 

His hungry red eyes glanced down to a plate that was empty. 

“I, for one, have standards,” Astarion said softly. 

Gale was a man of great pride. It was tempting to press back, to needle the vampire. Perhaps to bring a thumb to wipe up the blood that was still shining on his neck and watch the man lick it off before calling him on the falsehood. 

But on second thought, Gale also desperately needed to close his eyes and believe in the magic of being allowed this close again. He leaned his brow to Astarion’s to give a kiss to the naked skin he found. Not to soothe away the way the vampire had his eyebrows furrowed in concern of being seen. But as a promise he loved this too and wanted it just as much as every other part of him. 

“I look forward to learning about every single one, no matter how small or obscure,” he promised. “I will ascribe them upon my heart, and treasure each word as a gift.” 

Astarion looked at him, searching for the lie. Gale was granted the privilege of watching his eyes grow soft with the knowledge that the wizard was as sincere as he was loquacious.

Then, he had the thrill of watching a vampire who had recently declared he wanted to start living realize he was ravenous.

And that Gale was the perfect second course for this evening and many more to come. 

︶꒦꒷❤︎꒷꒦︶

Author Notes: Thank you for reading this! As always, I would like to remind you thirsty folks to hydrate a bit if needed. Although I suppose for this fic, maybe encouraging you to get a snack would be more appropriate! 

Please let me know if you enjoyed the pun in the tags. :P 

Hopefully this is the start of a solid writing month for me. I'm going to be aiming to put out something each Monday.

[vigilskeep]

"The hand that feeds is the hand that's loved" - Gale Dekarios

Huh. Ain't he the camp cook? 🤔

YEAH I GOT THAT LINE...

there’s a lot going on. isn’t there. i think gale is a person who sees relationships as very transactional in a way and has to keep promising he has something to offer, from the moment you meet him and he assures you that saving him was a “foresighted kindness” he will repay on the journey, to the fact that most relationships in his life including the all-defining one with mystra stem from all the brilliance and magical talent he can offer, to his desire to repay what he sees as a debt of good owed to tara for taking care of him and keeping him alive at a time when he probably saw himself as having little to offer. he’s someone who likes to share—he does this by sharing thoughts and information too, and knowledge and magic like in the weave scene—and in some way he’s proving his value, at the same time as he’s demonstrating affection or thanks or goodwill or just wanting to share what he loves, which is also very real, he adores what he’s fascinated with and tries to share that wonder. of course his “folly” with what he attempted for mystra, to restore one jewel to an imperfect crown as he puts it, is the ultimate attempt at gift giving to prove value, and redress the insecurities you couldn’t help but feel if your great but finite mortal talent was what drew the attention of a goddess. and what she wants of him in the game is also transactional in a way he is accustomed to; it’s about restoring himself in her eyes by offering the most service no matter what it costs him

i think specifically what i find heart-breaking about making food being such a core language for him is that it’s so simple and human and you can’t imagine mystra partaking in it at all, when she seems to have blotted out everything else in his life for a long time

a couple things i also think are relevant in ways i can’t fully articulate are that when elminster arrives with the news, he insists on food rather than wait for it to be given freely, and that gale’s condition is referred to as arcane hunger and only resolved by not just consumption but tara and the player character having to provide that “food” for consumption. the latter methinks is partly a pretty clear translation for care needing to be expressed to him back in the same way, and he should not be as apologetic as he is about needing it

[justlookatthosesausages]

“In the eye of the storm” ◊◊◊◊ a post-Frozen 2 fanfic ◊◊◊◊ CHAPTER 5: Precipitation

Several days later, they didn't get any news from Anna, and it drove Elsa nervous to no end.

When Eydis was walking by her in the castle, she smiled and waved at her, but the Snow Queen was lost in her daydreams.

One afternoon, Kristoff found Elsa in a bedroom, looking at the rain through the window. He was right when he knew where to head to; the blonde always had a tendency towards quiet rooms with windows for introspection.

"Are you upset?"

Elsa saw him enter in his reflection on the glass, so she didn't startle at his presence.

"Why do you ask?" She muttered.

"You're snowing. I mean... It's snowing. Around your head."

Elsa gasped and waved her hand at the thankfully light snow that had fallen on the carpet. It melted right away, and Kristoff stared at her.

"You're overthinking or upset about something."

The blonde looked down and didn't answer anything else than a sigh, not feeling in the mood to share. He tried humor to light up the moment.

"Funny how it's easy to tell the difference between those snowflakes and the ones you make for Bruni. If he were there, I'm sure he would find their taste different."

Elsa chuckled at last. The little guy obviously would. Those snowflakes were created with an opposite mood; instead of given to him as a treat gift, they were falling unintentionally and due to sadness.

"Do you wanna talk?" Suggested the King, coming near her.

"...Maybe." Finally said Elsa.

"About the Spirits being in conflict or Anna going abroad?"

He could hear Elsa gulp.

"Both?"

The blond put a loving hand on her shoulder. She was still cold, but he didn't care.

"I can't tell you much advice about the Spirits. All I can tell, from my raised-by-trolls point of view, is that magic can be very confusing. And sometimes, you might think something is the way it is, and it actually isn't at all. Mom- Hum, Bulda... She reads emotions in color crystals and can sometimes tell future by the way northern lights move, but she once told me that it's sometimes unreliable."

He smiled, happy to support her, then he realized at how his revelation wasn't really reassuring, and he winced when he saw the side look Elsa gave him.

"Uh... I mean..."

He sighed, dropping his head. "Never mind. I'm not that good at helping magic people."

She had a smile at the corner of her lips. "Quite the opposite, Kristoff. I know you care, and it already lifted my mood a bit."

The blond smiled too. Elsa looked through the window again.

"I know that, even if I still can't tell what is going on with Gale and Nokk, I can still count on your encouragement."

"Anytime."

He then realized that she had included Anna in that 'you'. The King scratched his beard before daring to approach the other topic.

"Truth will come in time, I'm certain of it. Anna will do her part, and you will, and everything will fall into place."

Elsa's hand dramatically passed on the glass of the window. "I miss her already. I know you're here, it's not what I mean... And there's Eydis too... But..."

"Nothing's quite like Anna", understood Kristoff.

"Yes." Sighed Elsa, like it was a weight on her heart, even though everyone in her family knew that she had a special complicity with her younger sister. "And I can't help worrying for her, even if I know she's the strongest person in the world..."

"She'll be fine. You know she'll be fine, right? You're the person who has the most faith in her after me."

Elsa's eyes stopped watching the hills in the distance and she smiled to him again.

"Yes, I know. She could hold the entire world with her dedication." She stated, looking proud.

Her expression vanished a bit.

"She's a thousand times more qualified than me to be Queen."

Kristoff wanted to say she was wrong to reassure her, but it actually was an undeniable fact. Arendelle historians had repetitively told him that Anna already had more efficient decisions and better leadership than any of her predecessors on the throne.

A silence passed, and he noted that Elsa was staring at the hills of the East, the direction in which Anna had been heading. He turned to his sister-in-law with a soft expression.

"You know that despite the lack of news, she's going to come back home, right?"

"Yes, Kristoff, I know." Repeated Elsa once again, a bit upset at how he insisted on facts to take her out of her anxiety.

He noticed. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude..."

"I'm aware that I'm overreacting and stressed at nothing. But I can't help it."

She sighed.

"Despite our years of separation in the castle when we were young, I always knew where she was. She was safe in the castle, and her safety was literally the only thing that mattered to me. And for the past 11 years, Gale could tell me if something was wrong anytime and almost instantly. They could even get to me in Ahtohallan or the furthest point in the Forest. Without Gale, I couldn't have known about that time you guys fell into a ravine, remember?"

Kristoff winced at the 2 years old memory. That family picnic had turned sour. "We still owe you one for that moment. Without your ice, the wagon explosion would have wiped us all. And I can't blame Olaf, he wasn't even there."

His humor didn't distract the Snow Queen. Her azure blue eyes were lost in the horizon.

"This is the first time in years that I don't know if Anna is safe or not. And it's nerve-wracking."

"Then forget her."

Elsa turned to him exaggeratedly. "Excuse me?"

The King was about to apologize and change his formulation, though he closed his mouth and stared at her.

"You seem taken aback by her absence. You kind of doubted that a national meeting would take place after she saw the stage of the storm, no?"

"Yes, but I thought that it would happen here, in Arendelle..." Murmured the blonde.

"Oooooh, that's why you're upset. You wanted her to stay here."

Elsa then sighed and buried her head in her hands, groaning.

"I'm such a selfish jerk..."

"No, you're not. Though, I have to admit, that supposition you made in your head was a bit mean for neighbor kingdoms' leaders who you had no guilt to imagine going through the storm until here..." Winced Kristoff. "But I swear you're not selfish, Elsa. You're sincerely one of the most altruistic persons I ever met. And I married someone who keep sacrificing her life for what's good."

A silence followed, and Elsa cried at the thought of Anna's dedication.

"I don't deserve to be her sister..."

She started to sob, and Kristoff hurried to put his hand on her back, slightly rubbing it.

"Hey, hey, don't you dare. She's nothing without you."

He then scoffed at how that sounded. "I mean... Well, you know."

The Snow Queen didn't move. The blond bent his head to find Elsa's gaze and make her look at him, a technique Anna had told him about for when she would have a breakdown. "Elsa."

"What?" She muttered with a sniff.

"You two complete each other no matter the distance. As strong sisters with an unbreakable bond, but also as the Bridge."

Elsa took a moment to let that sink in. "I know."

The King smiled, and he looked through the window along her.

Someone softly knocked at the door.

"Your Majesty... Lady Elsa..." Said Gerda's gentle voice, and they turned around. "I didn't mean to interrupt. Don't mind me, I'm just going to pick up Elsa's empty plate..." She then paused. "But I see that you actually haven't touched it."

Kristoff looked at the meal left on a coffee table by the door.

"Yes... I'm not very hungry." Murmured Elsa.

She had turned back to the window swiftly, and both Kristoff and the maid couldn't tell if it was because she had suddenly seen something in the horizon, or to hide her tears.

Elsa felt guilty for the silence that followed. She turned around again.

"Sorry for refusing those waffles, Gerda. They smell really nice, and it must have taken you a long time to bake them."

"Oh, it's not lost. Far from it. I know a little princess who'll get very hungry after her afternoon lesson."

Elsa smiled at her kindness. "She definitely inherited from her mother's gluttony."

Kristoff giggled in approval.

"I wonder if the languages teacher will quit after teaching both Anna and Eydis." Wondered Gerda. "When I passed by the living room's door an hour ago after making the beds, I heard her ask him to translate 'anvil' in every language he knew."

The Snow Queen burst of laughter, which wasn't very regal, but the servant and the King didn't mind at all; first because Elsa technically didn't have to mind about royal mannerisms anymore, and second because they had missed Elsa's laughter within those walls.

"Her passion for handiwork is not a thing she inherited from Anna, though." Laughed the blonde.

They all chuckled, and Kristoff was delighted to see happiness back on her features.

"Alright then. I'm going to give the waffles to Eydis." Confirmed the maid, and she left the room, closing the door behind her.

Elsa looked at the door with the ghost of her smile still on her lips, and as the rain was getting stronger and stronger outside, Kristoff invited her to go near the fireplace with a gentle hand gesture.

They stood here for a moment, looking at the orange flames, and Elsa missed Bruni's pink ones. She wondered if the tiny Fire Spirit could help her decipher the others' behavior. But she chased that idea of her mind; the Northuldra needed him now, there was no way she would summon him in Arendelle. The Sami tribe needed his magic heat in that storm, and Bruni also was an excellent watchman. Or watchlizard.

Elsa's thoughts drifted to Honeymaren. She hoped that she was alright and took care of her people like she always did.

Kristoff looked at the clock of the room to check time. He then noticed that the blonde's eyes were glistening. However, was it because of emotion or due to staring directly at the fire? He laid against the fireplace's mantel to be aligned with her.

"Are you feeling better?"

"I do, yes. Thank you for your help."

The King frowned and squinted. He knew Elsa enough years to tell when she had something on her mind. Her voice was different.

"Elsa, are you sure that it's all good now?"

"Yes."

She purposely wasn't looking up at him, still staring at the fire, the brightness of it reflecting in her eyes.

"I have to go find Kai, so we do an overview of the afternoon. Just don't do anything unwise and stay safe, okay?"

"Okay, I will."

He hugged her, then exited the room.

Elsa's gaze got lost in the flames, her jaw clenched. She had lied to her brother-in-law. She was going to go find Anna. 

=======

The blonde patiently waited for the night to fall and Kristoff to go read a bedtime story to his daughter. Then she sneaked out of the castle, crafting herself a hood made of snow and ice to hide her face as she reached to the stables under the pouring rain.

When the servants there recognized her approach because only one person in the world could be wearing such a magically bright white outfit at this time of the day, she noted that her idea wasn't that clever.

Elsa excused herself as she made her way in, and assured them all to not be alerted as she requested for the fastest horse in the stables.

"Do you really want to go in such a rainfall at that time of day?" Asked one servant.

"Your Highness, are you certain?" Worried a stable boy.

"You shouldn't do such a thing." Advised another one.

She forced herself to smile. "Just indicate me the best horse there is, please."

The servants looked at each other, to dedicated and polite to contradict their ex-monarch.

"Alright. This way." Said a hostler.

She followed him to one of the boxes of the back. He showed Elsa a tall horse, who wasn't bigger than the horses on each side of it, but it looked muscular and definitely had an athletic body shape.

"Here's the fastest we have, Your Highness."

Elsa forgot for a moment the urgency of her plan and dove in the sight of the beautiful stallion. It was entirely brown and had an undeniable royal aura, like it had been waiting for this task all its life.

The Snow Queen had a serious face until now, but started to melt in a smile.

"Hello you."

She walked forward, and lifted a careful hand. The horse blinked as it inspected it, sniffed it, and willingly nuzzled in her palm.

Maybe Honeymaren was right. Maybe she had a natural predisposition for animals. It was true that the blonde now felt like she was connected to Nature, and she was persuaded it was an illusion due to the fact she was embracing her magical powers and Fifth Spirit duty. However, she understood in that moment that there was a true link between that horse and her. Was it destiny? Or shared kindness, which was often a starting point on why Elsa spoke to wild animals in the Enchanted Forest?

She kept smiling and gently passed a hand on its head.

"I've never seen you here... It's a new horse?"

The servant saluted her sense of observation. "Indeed. He just arrived yesterday. He's a foal who recently finished his training and education to be in the royal guard. I was there all along his progress. Trust my words, lady Elsa; this is the fastest horse in all Arendelle."

Elsa carefully listened to all he had said, fascinated, but what mattered most than that to her was if the horse agreed to let her ride him.

"What's his name?" She asked, and she hadn't detached her eyes from him since the beginning.

"Rask."

Elsa smiled widely at the name. "...Rask."

She locked her gaze into his. "Looks like you were destined to this day, uh? This is too many coincidences."

The horse lifted and lowered his head like he was actually nodding, and she chuckled. Slowly, very slowly, and only after making sure he was agreeing, she approached her forehead to his muzzle, and softly touched there with closed eyes.

All the servants stared at the scene in awe.

"You're ready?" Murmured Elsa, stepping back.

Rask neighed, so suddenly and powerfully that she actually winced with a smile, and all startled, because the stables had been silent until now with just their calm voices and the sound of the rain outdoors.

Before riding him, Elsa made sure that everything was alright with his health and cleanliness, then she only accepted the bare necessities when the hostler helped her getting him ready. She refused the saddle, telling the servant that she was used to ride Nokk bareback anyway – and being made of ice most of the time, she had been in the most extreme case – and declined the stirrups as well. It was a good thing to make the horse as free as possible for their very first ride.

"I'll only take the bridle." Concluded Elsa.

They all felt surprised by her choice, but nothing really surprised them about the Snow Queen anymore, so they obeyed and helped her to put the harness on. When the bit was put in his mouth, Elsa felt a pinch to her heart, but she had no choice.

After a while and carefully listening to all their instructions, the blonde walked with him outside and climbed up. She took a moment to get used to his side, for he didn't have quite the same proportions than the form the Water Spirit had chosen to take. At the sight of the rain, she stroked his mane.

"I'm sorry for the weather, dear. But I need you more than anything right now. Let's go check on my sister."

The horse twitched a bit, and it felt like a nod again. She wondered if he could actually understand her.

Elsa deeply thanked the servants and asked them to tell Kristoff and her niece that they shouldn't worry.

She then tapped her ankles against the stallion's sides, and they dashed forward on Arendelle's cobblestones in the dark of the night. As wind whistled to Elsa's ears and rain gushed on her hood, she felt a deep sensation of freedom. Only then she noted how much she had missed this; riding along the hills, taking in the fresh air and the power of her ride with the sound of hooves under her.

She grinned in happiness, her heart also filling with joy as she knew she would be much happier once she would be sure that Anna was alright.

In a few minutes, they were out of the village, and were crossing at full speed the countryside lands of the East toward Hitiheimr.

=======

If she were able to connect with Rask's soul as she did with Nokk, she would congratulate him on how fast he was. The young horse was clever enough to see obstacles in advance, jumping over tree trunks and other accidents that had happened due to the storm. Hopefully, the path was mainly clear, and as her sister had underlined it a few days ago, the road to the Eastern kingdom was easy, for how many times it had been traced by merchants. Despite the heavy rain and mud, her stallion pierced the night like an ice arrow that Elsa would shoot from her bow as she hunted. It was perfect.

Soon, Elsa felt glad to have accepted the bride, for she realized that she had the reflex to ask the horse mentally to turn right or left, before remembering she actually was supposed to tug the reins for directions.

Nokk missed her terribly. At least, with them, she didn't use force during rides. They had become more than just fellow Spirits; the Water one had a unique connection with her, being a one of a kind friend and ally, and she tried to forget them as she was on this 'normal' horse. Nevertheless, Elsa couldn't deny it: the riding sensation was completely different. It was odd to not feel Rask's needs, sensations, and mood. Elsa loved to know how happy Nokk was when they were racing against Gale down the valleys, how sassy he was when he saw a young Northuldra fall off a branch, or how caring he was when he bumped his back to help her stand after a long tiring day.

As she thought again about Nokk's and Gale's friendship, Elsa frowned. Sincerely, how and why did the two Spirits get so angry at each other? As far as she could remember, she had never seen them going further than teasing.

She shook her head as she remained focused on the trail. Unlike when riding the Water Spirit, she couldn't let them do the job entirely and rest on their back from time to time.

A few hours later, something shiny attracted her eye in front of her, and Elsa gasped when she spotted something in the mud of the lane.

She briskly tugged on the horse's reins to make him stop, and he neighed in surprise and pain. She couldn't apologize for the reason of her eagerness, but felt terrible for hurting him.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to pull that hard. I'm very nervous." She whispered to his ears, gently stroking his neck.

Rask forgave her, yet snorted to show his disagreement.

Elsa put him to a complete halt, going down and patting him as she slowly walked to the shining object. What was something like this doing in the wild?

Her eyes squinted through the curtain of rain as she approached, feeling instinctively attracted to the object. Dark clouds were hiding most of the moon, and there was no thunder, so Elsa only had little light. She only then realized that she had been riding in complete dark, too focused on heading straight forward to need a lantern.

The Snow Queen stood above the tiny glossy thing, which seemed less and less natural as Elsa inspected it, and she twirled her wrist to create a glow of blue magic. A snowflake the size of her fist popped from her palm and brightened the whole path, giving her a better vision of it and reflecting in Rask's curious eyes.

She crouched and touched the solid object with her fingers. The blonde felt that it was made of metal, and took it off the soil with ease, thanks to the rain softening it. Elsa's ice sandals were covered with it and her white pants and trains weren't much white anymore, but she didn't care. Her focus was entirely driven to the item, which was larger than she expected as she lifted it.

Turning it in her fingers and approaching the light of her magic to it, she rubbed her thumb over the motives and used the rain to take the dirt out of it, making it shine even more. She frowned with confusion, tilting her head. It was something familiar, yet that she felt like she hadn't seen much... It was the size of her hand and had a curved shape, and when she revealed the seven tips all decorated with embedded crocuses, she squealed in a loud gasp.

Her azure blue eyes widened, along the glow of her snowflake, which become more intense at her distress.