The queen of the gods stood at the edge of the sea. It had been an age since she had deigned to set foot on this world, and it was an effort to remember what it felt like to feel the earthly winds and touch the solid ground.
Pitch Black had failed to take Skyara, the city of the Elites. He had failed to best her husband, the king of this land.
Varda strode barefoot across the icy rocks. The beach she was on was very far north on the First Continent. She was past Arendelle and in the edges of Northuldra. Here, there was snow where sand was supposed to be. The sea was covered in ice, frosted at the edges.
The goddess was wearing a simple white shift that billowed around her ankles. Her hair was a silvery white, and she had an ageless appearance about her. She could have been a child or a middle-aged woman. In truth, Varda was thousands of years old. She had hundreds of titles from ages past. Keeper of the Dusk. One of the Stars.
Queen of the gods.
Varda's eyes were like blue flame, so hot it was past the orange of normal fire. She was beautiful and flawless; every part of her fit the label of Moon's wife.
Varda hated it. She hated being chained to Moon like she nothing more than a toy, a pet. She hated how the Elites addressed her as Moon's queen. As if she belonged to him!
She could never love Moon. As of now, even after centuries of smiling at him as he doted on her, she could barely tolerate him. He did not value her. To him, she was just another jewel in his ridiculous crown.
But it was not that Varda loved no one. She did have someone who had given her his heart just as she had given him his. He was trying to find his way back to her, just as she was trying to find her way back to him.
Varda could practically see it. Her beloved would triumph over the mortal world, bring down the Elites. And while he did that, she would make her move. Varda would take the knife that she had been working on for years, enchanting it and sharpening it when no one was looking, and she would plunge it into her husband's kingly heart. King no more would he be.
His crown would be painted red, and Varda would wear it.
It would be just her. Queen eternal. Moon-slayer, they would call her. Then, she would find her love once more, and they would live as rulers of a new world.
Savoring the thought, Varda smiled. It was not the smile she gave Moon or Goldred or Vana. It was sadistic, bordering on mad.
She was in love. She was hungry for power, after centuries of being treated like a plaything.
Oh, Varda would get what she wanted.
No matter what it took.
Author's Note:
I have just realized that Varda is the name of one of J.R.R. Tolkien's Valar. I did not mean to steal the character. No copyright infringement intended. For the story's purpose, I probably won't change her name, but I will add it to the description.
Also, please read the next "chapter". There's no actual story in it, but it has some important announcements.
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Winter Moon (Jelsa)
Fanfiction*Jelsa Fanfiction* (Parts of this story belong to Disney and Dreamworks, rights go to them.) Arendelle, the last standing kingdom in the west, is home to the Arena family, a line of kings and queens who rule the land to the west of the First Kingdom...
