Whenever Fenris felt his facade begin to crack, he sparred in the training hall. He was alone this time, his only companion a straw dummy in the center of the room. It was quiet save for the gentle tapping of well placed steps, the hiss of good leather against strong wood. He held a practice sword with both hands, the tip pointed skyward as he advanced towards the dummy, his thoughts solely focused on the task at hand.

To kill.

He leapt, swinging the sword tip down in a surprising thrust, ramming it in the dummies head. Ramming it into Corvere's head, he thought with relish. He pulled back, imagining he'd been parried instead, turning in a pirouette that sent the sword chopping down in an arc.

Another heavy thump, another firm riposte, and the dummy careened sideways, the metal rod of its spine beaten and bent from prior sparrings. Fenris wouldn't relent. He chopped the opposite way, cutting into the guts, canvas skin aching to burst.

Not enough. It was not enough, he realized. The practice dummy he'd dueled a thousand times before swayed back to its original position, unbowed by his onslaught. Even worse, it appeared to have taken on Corvere's swagger, taunting him. "Still weak," it hissed in his ears. "Still never enough."

Fenris roared, pouring all of his frustration into the next swing, bringing it down like a thunderclap into the dummies neck. It's head snapped back, cloth ripping as it came free, thudding into a shadowy corner.

He shuddered in an aching breath, sweat dripping off his bare chest as he glowered at his kill. The dummy stood headless now, straw poking out from the stump in its neck. And yet it still bore the same, mocking swagger.

Not enough. Never enough.

"Fark," he snarled, throwing his sword down in a skittering clatter.

"I don't think I've ever seen you this angry," a voice called out.

Fenris turned, heart racing, worried it was the same man he'd imagined killing earlier. The throbbing ache in his guts settled as he realized who it was.

"Darendel," he breathed. The man swept into the training hall with all the grace of a snow feathered swan. His eternally tired gaze met Fenris over a row of shiny, perfect teeth, his beautiful long neck joined together by a set of strong, corded shoulders.

"Don't act surprised. You are the one who asked me to meet you here." Darendel paused to stare at him, looking very pleased all the while. "If you're trying to seduce me, Fenris, I dare say it's working. I do love a man when he's sweaty and bare chested."

For a moment Fenris wanted nothing more than to embrace Darendel, to breathe in his fresh flower scent and believe everything would be fine. But life was hard in the frozen north. You had to be hard to survive, and being hard meant facing facts. No matter how much it would hurt.

"Darendel," Fenris said again, smothering the love he had for the man from his tone. "We need to talk."

"But talking is so boring," the man cooed. "I prefer using my mouth for other things. Like what yours did to me the last time we met for example. I have to say, you were simply amazing."

"Corvere knows about us." Fenris stood there in ragged shock, surprised he'd possessed the courage necessary to say what needed saying. He wanted to take it back, to pretend everything would be fine. But nothing was fine and never would be, and he knew it.

"What did you say?" Darendel took a step back, the pale gooseflesh of his face draining into the color marble.

"I said, Corvere knows about us."

"But how? How is this possible?" Darendel's voice had gone shrill now, copper eyes wide and filled to the brim with fear. "We were careful. You said it was safe. You said no one else was in the sleep-hall that night." He rammed an accusing finger at Fenris, each stab a wincing pain in his chest.

"I thought so too," Fenris said, fighting to keep his voice calm. Where was the delicate flower he'd fallen for? The man he'd once known had transformed into a cornered animal, snarling at him, blaming him for what he'd thought was love. How was this his fault? What wrong had he committed?

Darendel began to pace, panic rising in his voice. "If this gets out. If Corvere tells the others. I'm finished. I'm farking finished!" He turned his gaze on Fenris, suddenly grabbing him by the shoulders. "You didn't tell anyone else, did you?"

"Anyone else?" Fenris asked. He tore Darendel's grip off and shoved him away. "What the Pit do you care if anyone else knows. I thought..." He faltered. What did he think?

"You thought, what, exactly? That there was something between us?" Darendel's frown became a sneer. "Don't flatter yourself, king's pet. You're not that special. You were nothing more than entertainment for me in this frozen hell until I finally ascended as a Chosen." He pointed a finger at Fenris as he turned to leave. "Keep your farking mouth shut and don't ever come near me again. If word spreads of this, I'll make sure that pretty little mouth of yours never speaks again. Got it?"

His last words came out a barking threat, echoing in the near empty hall. Fenris could only stand there in stunned amazement, unable or unwilling to believe what he'd heard. Not the words themselves, but the tone of it all. The utter lack of love, fleeing Darendel's heart the moment it had been found out.

It made him feel like nothing.

It made him feel less than nothing.

And it made him very, very angry.

But before he could speak, before he could utter even one hateful retort, a new voice called out. One he shamefully recognized.

"Fenris," Captain Skuld of the Valkyrian Guard stepped smoothly into the hall, her polished black glass armor glinting mirror bright in the torch-lit hall. "The High King has summoned you."

*

It was Fenris who broke the tenuous silence first. "You didn't have to swoop in and rescue me like that. I knew what I was doing."

"Yes I did," Skuld retorted back, voice smooth as the wyrd-laced ice in her veins. "And no, you weren't. You were about to snap had I not reigned you in just now."

"Reigned in? What, you think I'm some farking dog or something?"

"You're the King's royal dog, aren't you?" Skuld held his gaze as they continued walking. "Just like I'm his royal bitch?" Only then did she smile, a sliver of sunlight in an otherwise gray, emotionless sky. Fenris admired it, before her lips pursed once more. "Regardless, that is neither here nor there. You know why I came for you. I'm as much a Herald of our enemies' end as I am the High King's messenger girl. Comes with the territory." She stared at him through long eyelashes, her next words in a hushed whisper. "But I take it things didn't go well between you and Darendel."

"Honestly? I should have expected this," Fenris sighed, more tired than sad over how it had all gone down. "Better that it should happen under these circumstances then..." He trailed off, waving a hand out to nothing. "Well, you know."

"I do, unfortunately." Skuld nodded her head. "Corvere found out. Didn't he?"

"He did. How long were you listening?"

"I wasn't. It was the most logical reason as to why your hand was forced. He's quite the ferret when it comes to sniffing out people's weaknesses."

"Does he know yours?" Fenris asked, his anger cooling into curiosity. Say one thing about Skuld Kenris, say she had a voice as cold as the blood that ran through her. But where most found it unnerving, he saw it more a cooling reagent to his own boiling cauldron. And together they had formed an unlikely kinship.

"He did," Skuld said. "But it meant nothing, overall. I spurned my lover in secret as you did, but unlike you I made sure it was a clean break." Her voice was calm and level, but the look in her eyes said otherwise. "And besides, I outrank him in seniority as Third Spear of the Valkyrian. As a Forsworn, Second-In-Step or not, any open slander against my person is grounds for public execution." She added the last words with a sharp jab of her hand. "By me. Personally."

"I'll cheer you on in the viewing box if I don't jump in to help you." They shared a laugh together, an otherwise strange sound in the frozen halls of the High King's palace. They say it had once been built of rock and stone, but Fenris had been too young to remember that far. Now it was nothing more than a chunk of polished ice, the dark eternal kind that crept out from the nearby mountain's innards and infected the land, bringing the Black Prophecy with it. "Bastard could do with a good killing, if you ask me."

"Good thing I didn't," Skuld retorted back. "Or you'd have been gutted for speaking such treachery. King's favorite or not."

Fenris wrinkled his nose. "Sounds worse when you say it, honestly. Like it actually hurts my feelings."

"I thought Forsworn didn't have any feelings." They paused beneath an archway, torchlight bouncing off the frozen walls and showering them in a multitude of shimmering colors. Fenris stood there in wonder as cascades of red and blue overlapped with sparkling waves of violet. Oranges fizzled and popped along streaks of yellow as they whizzed past like shooting stars.

It was only after the lights had faded that Fenris realized his jaw was hanging open. Luckily, they were still alone. If anyone else beside Skuld had seen him it would have been the end of his service as a Forsworn all together. People like him were expected to eschew such grandeurs of wonder. To think he'd stood there like a slack jawed imbecile over flashing lights and colors. The lunacy of it all.

"I suppose some feelings are harder to snuff out than others," Skuld said, her voice icy once more. "Even when you've a lifetime to practice." She stepped past him, continuing down the narrow corridor as if nothing had even happened.

"I suppose you're right," Fenris muttered back, dogging at her heels to keep up.

"It was quite the display, though. Wouldn't you agree?"

He met her eye then, noticing the tiniest hint of a smile.

"I suppose so."

And that was the end of it.

In the olden times when Galm the Ancient had ascended the throne as the first High King, he had built Kel Drenor not only as a palace of stubborn grandeur, but also as a fortress of impenetrable might.

Before the ice had come, the castle's innards had been a maze of intricate stonework, dark crevices and iron wrought antechambers meant to confuse any would-be invader. Now the place resembled the guts of a Jotun, slithering in odd directions and slopes that would leave even the most well guided man confused and lost within its frozen halls.

For the ice had made the ancient place much more than a frozen tomb. It was as if it had come alive, born with strange intelligence. Even under a heavy layer of frost, Fenris could see the twisted shadows of dark veins writhing beneath his feet, the faint sounds of heavy breathing within the hallowed halls. Yes, Kel Drenor was more than a castle now. And only he, and Skuld, and those like them knew of such knowledge.

At their own peril.

Fenris felt his heart sink as his eyes hovered over the twin doors leading into the High King's chambers. "Did he tell you why he summoned me?"

Skuld shook her head. "Quiet and somber as usual. Asked for you and nothing more."

He swallowed. "Was she in there with him?"

The Valkyrian winced. "I can't say."

With a slow, insatiable growl, the double doors grinded painfully open, cold wind spilling out as a voice as deep as winter called out to him. "Enter." At the very back of the room a lone figure sat hunched over a frost rimmed throne, one finger held up, beckoning him closer.

"Good luck," Skuld murmured as she turned away, leaving Fenris to an uncertain fate. He stepped forward, and the double doors swung shut with a crash and a click.

***