The Quest For Hope

The Battle: Chapter One

"Princess Elsa?" Her professor called. "Princess Elsa!" He yelled, whipping his willow branch on her desk, shaking his head. "Please pay attention. In the ancient days of the dragons,  Lord Hawthorne created what we call 'Hawthorne's Theory,' a series of complex battle manoeuvres designed to startle the enemy and keep them off guard," he continues, pointing to diagrams on the wall.

Princess Elsa could barely keep her eyes open. She was waging a personal battle between fighting off sleep during the day and fighting off her nightmares at night. Her eyelids grew heavier the longer Professor Milo spoke. The low, steady tone of his voice, the long lectured on lords, kings, and history, and even the bland beige robe he wore lulled her to sleep.

It wasn't Professor Milo's fault. He was doing the best he could to manage the thin compromise between King Agnarr and Princess Elsa.

Earlier that summer, king Agnarr had reminded Elsa of her royal duty and pressured her to marry. Outraged by his plan, she devised her own-defying him and running away to save her freedom. After being captured and beaten by bandits and narrowly escaping, she realised that she belonged at home. She returned, and new compromises were reached. Every day since, she and her father had performed a calculated dance, each giving in a little and each taking a turn leading, still trying to figure out some of the quirks of the arrangement. Professor Milo it right in the middle, faltering under the control of King Agnarr and the stubbornness of the princess.

"...And that is why his theory is generally regarded as a fool's notion in the battlefield." Professor Milo turned around and squinted, rubbing his eyes with his forefingers.

"Princess Elsa! Pay attention!"

Jumping at the sound of his voice, she opened her eyes, reluctantly leaving her dreams of sunshine and birds.

"Princess," he sighed, "could you please explain Hawthorne's Theory to me?" Crossing his arms, he waited for a response.

Elsa looked down at her notes. Brushing a few loose strands of platinum blonde hair out of the way, she smiled. Her papers were full of sketches of herself and Jack, rather impressive ones, too, for only a few hours of work. She scanned the rest of her notes, feeling the professor's eyes on her and hearing the tap-tap of his shoes. 

Looking up, she gave him her most innocent smile. "Good professor Milo," she said, batting her sparkling blue eyes. "You speak of Lord Theodore as if he were the most innovative of our leaders. I was always believed my father, King Agnarr, was the most innovative. What are the differences between their techniques?"  

Professor Milo looked like he wanted to cry. His fingers tightened their grip on his willow branch and his temples pulsed. Since she had posed her response as a question, he felt obligated to answer and continue with his lesson. Elsa's cheeks turned pink as she contained her laughter. An impish grin stretched across her face as he turned around to show her the differences.

She closed her eyes, concentrating on the warmth of the sun on her long brown hair and porcelain skin. With her slender build and royal upbringing, she epitomised the perfect princess-mesmerising charming, poised, and confident-though she was stubborn as an ox. Her platinum blonde hair draped her back in deep waves, and her sapphire eyes were still closed to focus on her daydream for as long as she could.   

Jack filtered into her mind: his snow blonde hair, the sweet way his bangs fell down over his blue eyes, and his gentle smile. His laughter filled her mind and ears: a deep, throaty laugh, full of playfulness and strength.

The laughter continued, and Elsa realised it was coming in from the window, not just her mind. Her eyes drifted over, watching the golden sunlight flood in.