The two hours that Andreas had estimated it would take to reach the palace turned into six. Snow pelted us so hard it was completely white outside our bear-pelt covered wagon. We attempted to conjure flames to warm ourselves, but the wind snuffed it out as soon as the spell was spoken. Andreas, the two guards they had allowed to come with us, and I all shivered almost as badly as Sassa. I, especially so since I was now wearing a layer less than everyone else. When I stole glances outside, I could barely see our troll guards or the oxen pulling the wagon. I heard them more than anything. Their heavy steps as they moved in unison echoed through the mountains like rolls of thunder.

At one point we heard the howls and the panting of wolves giving chase outside. The wagon stilled. We heard the trolls shouting in their ugly tongue, the crash of heavy weapons against the wolves' bodies, yelps of pain and then silence. The wagon returned to motion within seconds and wolves did not bother us again.

I dozed off by some miracle, rocked to sleep by the motion of the wagon, exhaustion from our two-week journey across the sea and likely the cold. I was stirred awake by Andreas's heavy hand on my shoulder. My vision was blurry at first and for just the briefest of seconds I thought I was at home with Ulf once again. But then my vision cleared. That long golden hair was not Ulf's. It was too long. Those blue eyes were not the right shade. His skin was too pale, his features too long. Andreas's jaw lacked Ulf's sharpness. Tears stung my eyes anew, but I swallowed them, blinked them back, let my secret anger fill the empty spaces once again.

"We are here." Andreas said, smoke leaving his mouth with every exhale. He pulled up a corner flap of our covering, showing me a wall of rough stone and a gate of iced over silver metal flanked on either side by statues of strange gods with wolfen heads. The gates swung open with a gut-wrenching shriek as we neared. The statues sprung to life, their arms of stone swinging back towards the mountain, beckoning us towards the mouth of a cave burrowed deep through the mountain's guts, the entryway to the kingdom of the trolls.

Our escorts grunted at us to leave the wagon as we came to a halt before the cave. Andreas and I all but had to drag Sassa out of it. We each gripped one of her arms firmly and our guards followed behind us, ready to grab her should she break away and try to flee.

When we passed over the threshold of the cave and the even colder damp of the underground met us, she did try to escape. She jerked and twisted in my arms, flinging herself back from me, away from the dark, back towards the sunlight. "No!" She screamed. "I won't go! I don't want to live in the dark! I'm afraid of the dark! Mother, please! I'm scared! Don't leave me here!" The words streamed out with each scream, broken only by a rare gasping breath.

The trolls stopped and glared towards us, growling lowly at Andreas who seemed to grow paler. "No, she is perfectly well. She is only nervous. It is simply a maiden's pre-wedding nerves." He laughed it off until the trolls turned around then hissed beneath his breath at me. "You must quiet her, Ylva. They think we're giving the prince a madwoman."

My magic stirred, as cold and biting within my gut as the air around us, but I ignored it. I gently grabbed her by her face, placing my hands on either side of her skull, spanning my fingers around her ears. I shushed her with a hum, pouring my magic into her, through her, lulling her mind into a quiet stillness as I had repeatedly during our journey simply to keep her from harming herself. It would leave her aware enough, but she was practically sleepwalking. The spell left a bitter taste on my tongue. There was a wrongness to it, forcing my will onto hers, dominating it. No matter how necessary it might be, I would never forgive myself for any of the travesties I had committed against her since talks of this arrangement first began.

The trolls led us through the cavern that tunneled ever deeper into the mountain. The ceiling above us glittered with flecks of gold that grew more abundant the deeper we went. We crossed an underground river so still it looked like glass. The gold flecks reflected in the water like the starry sky. From somewhere deeper in, I could hear the rush of a waterfall. Slowly, the stone of the mountain gave way to troll-built structures, towers and walls of smoothed rocks held together with mortar. Sentries watched us from the tops of each tower, strange iron bows aimed down at us until well after we had passed them. More of those wolfen statues were scattered about the fortress. These men with wolf heads gripped weapons in their hands and stared at us with jewel eyes.

"Do you think the statues are of the Great Wolf Sigurd?" I asked quietly. The wind god was not a popular one to build idols of as he had an eviler nature, but I supposed it made sense for the trolls to revere him in that case.

"Perhaps, but it may well be some other troll deity. I do not know much about their religion." Andreas said. He swallowed hard as if fighting the urge to vomit as a pair of massive, gilded doors with wolf faces carved into them came into view. I seconded his feeling when they swung open of their own accord and the grand hall of The Mountain King sprawled before us. The ceiling arched high above following the peak of the mountain under which we stood. The floors and walls were gilded in silver, the floors covered in rugs of animal hides. More statues stood at every corner watching us with swords now raised as if to strike. The troll soldiers barked at our guards to stay outside the hall and only then ushered us inside.

Giant hearths blazed with flame on either side of a raised pedestal on which the troll king's throne sat. The troll perched in it was smaller than his soldiers, though not by much. He was tall, even while sitting, but he did not possess quite their bulk. His body was bent and frail with advanced age. Wrinkled colorless skin with the slightest silver tint to it covered gnarled bones and hung from him where muscles likely used to be. He was draped in furs of several different creatures and gold bands decorated braids woven through his long white hair and beard. Down below him, sitting at a long table feasting and drinking, were a throng of troll men, women and young children. One troll woman was even nursing a baby at each breast at the table. The man beside her held another of the same age. The gathered trolls who were loudly chatting among themselves quieted as we entered, and the doors closed heavily behind us.

The king smiled, flashing long canines like that of a bear, each capped with gold. "I see our elven guests are finally here." He said in our tongue, speaking surprisingly well. It somehow made it worse that his accent was so perfect. "I'm afraid we will have to finish our meal after our talks. Boys, stay, everyone else leave the room until we've finished." He snapped his clawed fingers, and the party dispersed. The women, who I assumed were the king's daughters and daughters-in-law took the children out immediately, leaving only six massive men. Silently they all stood from their table and flanked the pedestal, three on either side. The king beckoned us closer with a crooked finger tipped in a black claw.

I had never seen trolls that up close before, not without their grimacing helms anyway. They did not go to the surface without them. Their bodies were built to live entirely underground. There were consequences for that, namely being blind in sunlight. Each troll prince was very similar in looks with broad faces and square jaws. Their long hair, which still held the dark slate color of youth, was done in different intricate styles and decorated with gold as their father's was. For princes, they wore fairly simple clothing, woolen tunics and trousers with soft leather boots lined with fur. Even without armor they were imposing figures, wide at the shoulder and covered in powerful muscles. Some of them bore tattoos. I saw faded silver swirls and runes peeking out from beneath their collars and sleeves. More than half of them bore horrific scars from battles they had fought over the course of their young lives. According to what little knowledge we had of them, none were even in their fifth century yet.

The troll king stood, letting his mantle of furs drape around him and giving him the bulk of his youth again. "We welcome you, King Andreas of the Western Lands. We hope you had an easy journey. I am King Tor and these are my sons, Torbjorn, Torleif, Torfinn, Torsten, Torgeir, and Torkel. He gestured to each of them, introducing them so rapidly that their names all slurred together in a string. My attention however stuck on the one he introduced as Torsten. I had been told that it was him, the king's middle son, that had bashed Ulf's skull in with a mace. He stood on the bottom step right to my left. I could reach out and grab him if I wished to. If I did not value my own life or that of my daughter, I could have unleashed that cold hateful magic from beneath my ribs and ripped him apart where he stood, but I kept myself carefully bridled. Instead of attacking him, I simply took him in. Of the lot of Tor's numerous sons, he did not stand out at all. He bore no gruesome scars from bear claws like Torfinn, unlike Torleif he still had both ruby-colored eyes, and he was not covered head to toe in tattoos like Torkel. He was neither the tallest nor the most heavily muscled. Compared to the rest of them he was rather plain. He was not the most frightful of them and yet it was he that had so ruined my life.

"Thank you for agreeing to our offer of a marriage pact, My Lord. It is a great honor to be here in your famous hall." Andreas droned on, laying on the charm like thick honey.

"I was glad we could come to an arrangement. It has been ages since the last elf bride." Tor said in that too-pleasant elven.

I shuttered, my eyes snapping away from Ulf's killer to the decrepit troll perched on the throne. "What other elf? We have never negotiated a marriage pact with the trolls before." There was more iron in my voice than was perhaps smart. I could see the color drain from Andreas's face out of the corner of my eye, though I was not sure if it was due to me or if he had come to the same conclusions I had.

Tor's thin lips pulled up in one corner flashing the gold cap of a fang. Though his earlier words had been as welcoming as the hearths around him, that smirk revealed the cruelty in his eyes. "Such a thing was not needed back then. My grandfather went to snuff out a would-be raiding party and found her in their longship. Such a surprise to find an elf woman so far from your garden realm. He killed the rest of her kin but kept her. A decision that ultimately presented a delightful boon. Such are the spoils of war."

I felt as if I'd plunged into a frozen river. I clutched Sassa's arm tighter, wanting to turn and flee with her, alliances with these beasts be damned. Andreas could find some other way to take the southern continent.

"The yellow haired one is Ulf's daughter, correct? Who is the dark haired she-elf?" Torsten asked, his voice a low rumble even when speaking in the sing-song cadence of the elf tongue, giving it an ugly accent.

Andreas shifted nervously and cleared his throat. "This is Ulf's widow, the dowager queen, Ylva."

Torsten's red eyes widened slightly with recognition. He muttered something beneath his breath in troll then shifted his attention to Andreas fully. "How old did you say the yellow haired she-elf was? She hardly looks of marrying age."

"I assure you; she is. Sassa just entered her second century. She is well past the age we usually begin marrying." Andreas said.

Torsten grimaced. "Barely two centuries? While I'm nearing the end of my third? I'm old enough to be her father."

"Maybe if you started bedding women before you sprouted your first whisker." One of his other brothers, the long-bearded one, Torbjorn, snickered and all the rest started laughing. Torsten glared at them, his face contorting into what I could only describe as a childish pout. His ears noticeably darkened at their rounded arches.

"It is hardly a concern." Tor scoffed, quieting his sons' laughter with a warning look. "She will simply have more time to give you children before you die of old age. Elves do not breed as well as we do, it is all for the better that she is young."

"I'd prefer to have a wife for that long than to have one that will wither and die in a week. She's already wilting." Torsten argued, grimacing at my drooping daughter.

"Wait, you are the one the marriage pact is for?" I could feel myself shaking either with dread or anger, I wasn't sure which.

Tor chuckled to himself. He slouched sleepily in his throne, a cheek resting on a fisted hand. His eyes watched me gleefully, that sinister grin still firmly in place. He seemed to find my reactions amusing. "Torsten managed to kill the old elf king years ago. I had been promising him a reward."

I let go of Sassa with one hand, raising it to point a finger towards Torsten like a sword. "Absolutely not." My magic churned. It bit and clawed within its cage, wanting desperately to be free to wreak havoc on the troll kingdom. I could not let it, not yet, but the echo of it could be heard in my voice. My sleeve had fallen back towards my shoulder and for some odd reason Torsten seemed surprised by that baring of skin. His eyes followed the line of my arm, studying it curiously.

"Ylva." Andreas hissed my name, warning me to back down without saying the words outright as if scolding a dog.

I raised my face towards Tor. "This meeting is over." Tor only grinned wider, showing every gold-tipped fang. With a firm hold on Sassa's arm, I began to drag her quickly towards the door, ignoring her sluggish movements. Some scraped legs were better than the gruesome death that awaited us if we stayed. Even with my magic I could not protect her for long in a kingdom full of trolls.

Andreas ran after me with rage contorting his features. "Have you lost your mind?" He grabbed my wrist, pulling me back.

I yanked it free like his touch was scalding. "No! I refuse to allow my daughter to be wed to her father's killer!" I yelled, not caring that the trolls saw my anger or heard how much I despised them.

There was a pulse between us. His power and mine pushed against each other. We glared into each other, through each other at the well within. Andreas dropped his voice down to a low whisper at the curve of my throat. "You no longer have the authority to make that decision. Ulf is dead and like it or not, I am king. I have made this pact possible and even if I must marry Sassa to a dragon, I will see it come to fruition. If you are still the queen you think you are, then you will remember what is at stake. This goes far beyond the life of your daughter, or you, or I."

"He put a mace through Ulf's head!" I roared. He took a step back as my power shoved at his.

"It was war. Either he killed Ulf or Ulf would have killed him. You cannot call him a murderer for defending himself, troll or not." Andreas said and I hated the reason in it.

Torsten cleared his throat loudly. "I've decided I do not want the girl." Andreas and I froze and turned our attention back to the troll prince. I heard Sassa let out a sob of relief.

Torsten exchanged a look with The Mountain King, smirks mirroring each other. "My father has a...wicked sense of humor. He thought it would be funny to wed me to the daughter of the king I killed." His eyes turned back to Andreas and me. "However, Sassa seems to be a true Sun Elf. I fear Ulf's daughter would not do well here beneath the mountain. She would wither here. I have seen it happen before with my great-grandmother, but I think perhaps Ulf's widow might thrive."

Torsten met my eye for the first time then. He watched me expectantly, waiting for my reaction. A reaction that would not come. I simply stood there, staring blankly at him. Was he really suggesting what I thought? Surely not.

"That is...out of the question." Andreas said through clenched teeth. Sweat slipped down the side of his face. While it was warmer in this room because of the hearths, it was still cold here.

Torsten's brows furrowed. "Why not? Do elves not allow their widows to re-marry? Seems a waste given how slow you are to reproduce."

"She is well into her fifth century now, surely you would prefer someone younger, and Sassa is a maiden." Andreas fumbled for any argument he could raise to stop this.

"I tend to prefer women with more life experience." Torsten chuckled. "Besides, that is still fairly young to you elves. She will more than likely still outlive me by centuries. Ylva seems to be strong both in body and spirit and has already proven able to bear children."

"She only has Sassa. All her other children died either in the womb or during birth." Andreas argued. His words stung me. I felt a blow for every child I lost.

"Such is the way of life, especially for elves. My Lord, I must admit I find it peculiar that I should know more about elves than you seem to." Torsten's head tilted slightly as he studied Andreas. He seemed to find him wanting. "Is there some other reason you won't allow me to take her instead of the half-dead princess you've brought before us?"

Andreas swallowed. His jaw opened and closed as his tongue fought to form some coherent thought, something, anything that would dissuade the troll prince from taking me and ruining his carefully made plans.

"Mother," Sassa whimpered. She clenched my hand where it dug into her arm. I realized then that I was squeezing hard enough to leave bruises. My fingers loosened and I let my hand slip down to grasp hers. She was tucked against my side, her face hidden in my shoulder. I squeezed my eyes shut a moment remembering the weight of her on my chest when the midwife first laid her against my breast. I had lost a son in that very birthing bed five years after I had wed Ulf and had waited seventy-eight years before we'd been blessed with her. I'd miscarried two others since. My Sassa. My beautiful girl. She was not the son her father had hoped for when we first wed but he had treasured her as much as I did. I had to love her enough for us both now.

For the first time in three decades, I finally spoke for myself in a louder voice than that of my king. "I accept!" For Sassa...and for Ulf...I'd sacrifice all that remained of my happiness so that she may find hers.