Playing with Fire

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The moment his face appeared in the crack of the opening door, Carina froze. The strength she felt earlier when telling Natalia what she wanted and what she expected felt as though it had suddenly been sapped from her. She had stilled in the motion of rubbing some body cream into her arms, her hand pausing on her upper am as she locked eyes with Sven through the mirror. It was only when her own hand became painfully cold against her own skin that Carina forced herself into motion once more.

She did not watch him hesitate and flounder at the door, instead tearing her gaze away to focus on herself. While her expression remained disdainfully passive and uncaring, her body was stiff with the rest of her movements. There was a tightness to her shoulders, visible due to the towel around her body that left them bare; a jerkiness to her hand as she continued to massage in the cream. Her heart was pounding at a pace that was not betrayed by the steady rise and fall of her chest (even if her breathing trembled with emotion that she currently suppressed). The only hint of the flinch that she smothered at his first words - his voice seeming to boom through the silence of the room and ricochet off the walls due to her sensitivity (through hangover and emotional pain) - was that of a twitching to her eyes, the brief narrowing of such being hidden to the best of her ability by a prolonged blink.

However, she let him speak. Taking the time to apply her face cream without any hurried motion or rushing on her behalf to pander to his desire to talk. Although what there was to talk about, Carina did not know. As Natalia tried to warn her about and as Carina knew herself about Sven, she was not ready to listen to whatever excuses he may or may not already have lined up.

Her eyes did, however, snap back to him through the mirror at his apology. Her hands formed fists on the surface of her vanity table, ice slowly and silently seeping out into two separate circles around both of them. Her expression remained blank, the only bit of life from her being from the disbelief and anger that hardened her gaze.

At least he had the decency to not dare deny what she and Natalia now knew.

Even still, her refusal to indulge him caused her to rise from her seat and raise a hand to the towel around her hair. She removed it and laid it on the vanity table, continuing with her routine but also hiding the ice that had escaped her in the same motion. Carina picked up the dress from the mirror before carrying it behind her dressing screen.

"...Natalia, would you mind coming here and buttoning me up, please?" She called eventually, fidgeting with the shoulders of the gown. There, tears glistened, ones that contrasted with the furrowed brow and clenched jaw, the tightly-pressed lips as she struggled to control herself at the audacity that Sven had to walk into her room, without even knocking, and tell her that he would like to talk.

Once the advisor had helped her, Carina stepped back out to comb her fingers through her damp hair. Her mouth suddenly felt incredibly dry, and she wasn't sure if that was due to the hangover that still remained present through the gift of a headache and intense parchedness, or because she knew she had to address her husband. Her lying, traitorous husband.

"You can get out." She told him firmly, clasping her hands behind her back so he couldn't see them shake. Her head tilted so her chin was raised, "I am not talking to you about anything until I have had some breakfast, here, in my room, and I have seen my son. So you leave, perhaps even get a heads start on organising what you're going to do about your little rat." Her tone turned colder and colder the longer she spoke, her hand that was clasped at the wrist forming into another fist that started to shake at her desperate attempts to maintain control over her ice.

She did dare to take a step forward, closer to him, "I don't have the time, nor the energy, to waste on yelling at you or screaming at you. It won't change anything and I'm not prepared to hear your excuses. So get. Out."
 
In a display of his own naivety, Sven had started to silently believe that he was in with a chance of, somehow, keeping his marriage intact; of being granted yet another chance to prove himself. Despite the presence of the divorce papers placed upon his bed and every one of their implications, the fact Carina had yet to take off, the fact she remained within the castle, gave Sven some cause for optimism - which was only heightened when she spoke of having breakfast and proceeding with her duties by first tending to Lorcan.

In starting to believe that he might stand that chance of repairing his marriage before it irreparably fell apart, he was deluding himself; clutching at straws so he didn't have to comprehend the fact that his mistakes, the enormity of his betrayal, would cause the downfall of everything he held dear.

...Though the faint burst of optimism within his chest didn't last long, the delusion that had started to cloud his ability to see things as they truly were crumbling the moment she directed her attention to him. The desire to blind himself with the few straws he naively clutched as self-perceived proof that he could claw his way back into Carina's good books and salvage their marriage might have persisted, but the belief in them waivered considerably when he was forced to witness the coldness of her tone and expression. He had been oblivious to it until she turned to speak to him directly, unable to pick up on the key indicators that she was struggling with his presence; that she felt the wave of disgust and anger towards him - though he became acutely aware when those words landed, each one feeling like a shot to the chest, leaving him wounded and pained.

Though he didn't turn on his heel and exit as he perhaps ought to have done. Now, more than ever, he should do as he was told; listen to what Carina wanted and needed from him, even if it countered his burning desire to put things straight and explain himself to the best of his ability. He was never in the practise of restraining himself from his desires (as evidenced by the continuation of his affair) but now would have been the perfect time to begin exhibiting the ability to do so; to prove that Carina's wants were his top priority.

But he couldn't obediently follow them when he couldn't cope leaving things as undetermined and uncertain as they were. He couldn't just return to his room and fester in his guilt and his despair when he needed to talk with his wife; to apologise and plead and beg, if he truly had to, for her to see that he accepted his mistake and wanted to repent for it.

He wanted to fight for his marriage, for his family, rather than meekly walk away and accept defeat.

Even if accepting that there were consequences to his actions was probably the wisest -and most necessary- acknowledgement he could make.

"...I just... I don't want to leave you to-- to, you know, conjure up all sordid details that aren't based in fact, Carina. I don't want you t-to let your imagination run wild and grow angrier with me when-- when I've not explained myself. That's not fair, is it? I have the right to-- to-- not justify my actions, because they're indefensible and I regret them, but I do have the right to explain them, don't I? And you can be furious with me, as I deserve it all and more, but I'd rather you be furious with me over the facts than furious with me without them," he continued in disregard to her request. He was no longer naive to the iciness of her posture, but he, with characteristic selfishness on full display, decided he would risk it if it gave him the opportunity to get the truth (or his preferred version of it) out and have her judge him on that alone.

...If only because he was hoping to twist things in his favour, to rely upon his excellence in manipulation to make himself seem like a damaged character worthy of sympathy and not the callous adulterer he actually was.

It might not work, Carina might see through it, but wasn't it worth the risk?

"...I'm not holding anything against you, far from it, but things have been difficult, Carina. Our marriage hasn't been where I want it to be. I've been terrified by the oncoming war, pushed so far out of my comfort zone, into the depths-- I've been drowning and I couldn't turn to you, could I? Not when-- I just didn't want to pile my personal issues onto you, is all. Then there's the fact that -and I'm not blaming you- but... I'm not allowed to be myself anymore. I want to be who I am, I want you to love me for it, but I know you despise the traits in me that I want to accept,. The grandiosity, the arrogance, the darkness. And-- this affair, it-- allowed me to access those parts of me that I hide from you because you dislike them so much. It's selfish, I know that. I regret it. I was stupid a-and idiotic and-- and I can't lose you over this, Carina. Or Lorcan. I can't-- I can't fight this war without you at my side, helping me."

From the emotional blackmail to the admission that he had been delving back into the traits not too dissimilar to his father (not that he would appreciate that comparison), Natalia could only stare in a mixture of disbelief and horror at Sven's apparent attempt to repair what damage he had done. If he had broken down crying and began to plead for another chance, it would have been laughably pathetic but at least it would come from a place of honesty and love. There was nothing honest and nothing loving about his manipulative attempts to garner sympathy for himself, nor about his subtle attempt to encourage Carina to harbour guilt for seemingly not accepting who he was; to plant that seed in her head that she had inadvertently forced him into Eris' arms.

Natalia always knew of Sven's capacity for cruelty, but to witness him proceed with it even now, after everything he had done, was astounding. Just as astounding as his arrogant belief that his behaviour wasn't totally transparent.

"...I can sign the papers if you want me too," he proceeded quietly, "but I-- I don't want to lose you, Carina. I love you, more than-- more than anything. You and Lorcan, you're both my world. I-I... I'd be lost without you both. Please... Please, just... don't give up on me; on us."
 
Carina held her place. A mere three steps away from her husband; the man that was blatantly trying to manipulate her into feeling something other than grief and anger and hurt. He wanted her to feel guilt. He wanted her to be sympathetic. He wanted to continue having his cake and to eat it over and over again. However, she wasn't prepared to let him. Not anymore.

His words only served to fuel the rage that burnt inside her. The thought of inadvertently forcing him into Eris' arms didn't need planting, as it was already sown away deep into her mind by her own doing. However, the fact that he was alluding to it and using it against her proved to her that he was not the man she thought he was. They had agreed, promised, to no longer hurt each other. Him bringing such an idea up spoke volumes about what his promises meant to him. If he loved her, if he truly loved her, manipulation would be the last thing on his mind. Speaking to her fears, blaming her as she knew that he undoubtedly knew she worried about deep down... was unforgivable.

The air in the room seemed to drop a couple of temperatures as Carina remained staring at him, refusing to move or yield any sort of ground. She refused to allow the pain that his words caused, the ones that laid the blame at her feet, shine through despite the fact that they left her feeling nauseous and weak. Every excuse he gave was pathetic and she told herself that over and over and over again. He said he wouldn't try and defend himself yet there he was, every word uttered an attempt to explain away what he had done and why.

Even with her eyes on him, everything seemed to zone out for a moment. Like she had fallen asleep, but everything was blurred, any noises were buzzed out and she was just in a desolate space, all alone.

Her lips parted to suck in a breath, which in turn snapped her back to her reality. Her moment away from it all provided her the clarity she needed, settled a calmness like a weighted blanket on her shoulders. She wasn't about to be manipulated by the same man who she thought had changed. By the same man she thought loved her. By the same man who clearly didn't... because who would do this to a person they love?

Carina took the last few steps forward until she was stood in front of him and reached her hands up to quietly run them up the sides of his neck and then over his jawline. Her one hand moved to tenderly hold his chin... a complete difference to the one that dropped to her side before moving a shaking hand to behind her back, it forming a fist when it was there. The hand on his chin brought his face down, the same sort of motion she would make if she were about to kiss him. Only to pause, their lips millimetres apart.

"And you think I have been allowed the person I want to be?" She whispered, faces so close that her lips grazed his.

After those words, the young queen released his chin harshly, pushing his face to the side with the flick she added to her wrist as she let go. She circled away from him, pacing back sharply rounding on him again.

"I believe I told you to get out. So go. Get out. I don't care for your explanations-- which, for the record, sound a lot like excuses." Her arms folded across her chest, hands wrapping tightly around her upper arms as she faced him, the cold from her palms biting as she exercised her control on her ice. "And stop insulting me by telling me you love me. If you did... we wouldn't be having this conversation."

Her arms unfolded to allow her to point to the door behind him, a muscle in her jaw jumping as she grit her teeth, "Get. Out."
 
Sven was egotistical enough to believe that his transparent attempts to manipulate would work. He had managed to pull the wool over most people's eyes throughout his life, using and perfecting the art of manipulation in order to benefit himself in spite of the consequences it brought on others - and when he had always managed to accomplish this feat with such expertise, such finesse, why would he, for even one second, believe that it would fail him now? He overlooked the fact that Carina knew him better than most people, remained wilfully blind to the fact he might not be as great at it when it came to the woman as he was with others, instead firm in his belief that he would manage to, once again, succeed in implementing the behaviour and getting what he wanted from her.

Which was sympathy, guilt, regret - all of which Carina had no valid reason to feel. He knew that, deep down, but he had to do what he could to save his marriage, so if that meant falling back on the cruelty of his manipulation, insulting her intelligence by assuming she wouldn't see through his intentions, then he wouldn't hesitate to do so. His word wasn't as trusted as he wanted it to be, so simply promising her that he loved her, that their marriage meant a great deal to him, wouldn't be taken as fact anymore.

So what choice did he have other than to fall back on old methods that had always proven useful to him? It genuinely didn't sit too well with him that he had to rely on it with Carina when he had once promised that his days of manipulating were behind him, especially towards her, but he had also come to realise that denying who he was, what he gathered pleasure from, was a recipe for disaster. That didn't mean he wanted to display that behaviour to the one woman he truly loved - but he was backed into a corner, desperate and panicked.

Resorting to desperate measures was all he had left.

As a result of that blind belief that he was almost guaranteed to get away with it, he couldn't hide the smile that broke on his lips at his wife's approach, relief unsubtly falling upon his expression and easing the genuine pain that had otherwise settled there. The feel of her touch only comforted that pain further, his eyes softening as he took in the proximity, the closing distance, the nearing of their tilted heads--

But his lips hadn't met hers.

Their foreheads hadn't pressed together.

The cool of her palm didn't remain tantalising against the heat of his cheek.

No, he was pushed forcefully away and the hissed reiterations that he ought to leave the room, to get out of her sight, were uttered. For a moment, Sven remained fixed in place, brows knitting together in confusion and mouth briefly parting as if to speak the words that had gotten caught on his tongue. The relief numbed once more into anxiety, which sunk and settled heavily in his chest, making its claim there as it clutched, squeezed, uncompromisingly at his heart.

"...I do love you," he repeated weakly, pathetically even, his voice as subdued as his presence. It took a few seconds before that altered, his jaw tightening as he forced himself to stand straight and tall, even if it took every ounce of strength to do so. "I do fucking love you, Carina. My actions haven't shown that, but I do - and you clearly love me or you'd have packed your suitcases and made your leave by now, wouldn't you? You'd have gotten in a carriage and left the castle. You wouldn't-- entertain having breakfast or continuing your duties. That-- that shows you love me, that you're-- open to-- to working things out, doesn't it?"

He paused as he let the words settle, eyeing the door over his shoulder in realisation that he ought to take his leave before he angered her any more than he already had done - and when she offered glares that looked like they could kill, he knew it was best not to push or rile her any further.

But taking the wise option, the most mature one, wasn't usually Sven's go-to.

"I think you're being an idiot," he eventually continued, not naive to the fact he was heading out onto the lake of thin ice by taking such an approach, but grovelling on his knees for forgiveness? That wasn't something he cared to do, not when his ego wouldn't allow it. "Honestly, I know I've got no room to talk, Carina, but you're being rash and-- acting on emotion, rather than logic. You love me, right? And I-- I want to prove that that love isn't misplaced, if you just-- give me a chance to explain and-- make up for my... recklessness. Because I can, you know. I can be a better man, be someone who you can love and trust and rely upon. You don't want to throw what we have away, do you? You don't want to have Lorcan grow up, torn between us both? I know you don't want that."
 
Emotion. He thought she was acting on emotion.

Carina's hand slowly lowered as she continued to stare at him, arm retracting back to her side. Once he was done talking, she remained silent, hand slipping from her side to join the other behind her back as she took a moment to simply take in his words.

Then she laughed.

The sound wasn't bitter or cold yet it held no joy, no warmth.

She turned away from him as she laughed, shaking her head at him as she returned to her vanity table to sit down and continue with her routine. "You're hilarious. Truly and utterly hilarious, Sven." She sighed, reaching for her perfume to dab a spot into the hollow of her throat, "Me. Acting on emotion. You realise that I am only Ignisian by marriage, yes? You remember that? I think this is the first time I've ever been accused of being emotional."

Carina had to laugh. She had to. Focusing on his words, allowing her anger to reach its crescendo... it would not end well. If she let herself become ruled by the emotion he accused her of already following, then she couldn't guarantee the safety of either of the other two in the room. While she detested Sven in that moment, she was also hurt because of the love she held for him. She didn't want to see him hurt. Then there was Natalia. How could she let any harm come to the woman that had been nothing but supportive since she had been accused of attempting to murder Sven?

Her hands eventually came to rest on her vanity table, clasping together firmly as she finally looked to him again through the mirror.

"...Do not mistake my desire to look out for my son as a desire to try again with you. You threw away what we had the moment you started seeing that woman again." All amusement had left her features as she returned to the matter at hand and her gaze flickered to the advisor, "Natalia, go for breakfast. Tell Andrew that the tea and toast isn't necessary. Unfortunately, I've wasted my time here and need to see Lorcan next."

Carina ensured that her gaze moved back to Sven as she spoke of wasting time, hands moving to hold the edge of the vanity table instead now. Her control was waning and if it were to snap, she would prefer Natalia to be out of the room.

"And you, Sven... I'm not going to ask again. You need to leave. I have listened to you whine and give excuses. To try and pin the blame on me. To manipulate me. But I am done. With this conversation. With you. You will find how I feel about this whole situation has manifested in the form of the divorce papers I had left for you in your room. You've made your bed, now lie in it."
 
Maturity wasn't always something Sven was able to keep a tight grip of, especially when he didn't have Carina at his side advising him, reminding him of the best course of action to take. Even when she was on his side, he was still prone to acting entirely on impulse without taking a step back to consider his actions or his words. It was a generally an Ignisian trait to act on emotion, to communicate and physicalise whatever state encompassed them, but immaturity manifesting itself into cruelty wasn't a commonality amongst the populace.

No, that was solely specific to Sven, who had the tendency to lash out rather than consider his actions, pause, and act appropriately. Even now, when he ought to step back and listen to the wife he had wronged, who he had hurt beyond comprehension, he found his hands curling into fists at his sides, a scowl settling on his lips where an apologetic, understanding frown should have been. Rather than the thoughts of obeying her request and giving her the space she clearly needed (and deserved), the King found his being inundated with irritation and anger at the unfairness of her treatment towards him.

He really had no leg to stand on by feeling that sense of bitter injustice, but he wasn't mature; he wasn't someone who would be able to accept their guilt with ease and act in the manner expected of them. He was selfish and righteous, and even if he knew he was in the wrong and wanted nothing more than to make up for his actions, to save the marriage he genuinely loved and felt content within, admitting that aloud and accepting the consequences with both hands held up wasn't... so simple for him. Admitting to his faults made him uneasy, so, as astounding as it was, he would rather lash out instead; share out the blame when it wasn't necessary, or kind, to do so.

Deal the innocent party insults rather than accept the ones that rightfully fell at his door.

"He is our son; not just yours. Let me remind you of that fact. As for Eris, I have said sorry for my actions, Carina. For continuing to see her, even if she accepts me in ways you never have nor never will. Am I so fucking awful for wanting to be supported? For wanting someone to tell me that who I am isn't a crime? Are you that fucking spiteful that you're going to hold this against me, despite my embarrassing grovelling apologies? Because-- you were the one who didn't want to have sex, Carina. Not me. I don't think it's fair that you withheld it and yet judge me for-- for finding it elsewhere, with someone who actually-- accepts who I am and-- and who fucks me better than you ever could, my darling."

The last sentence of his outburst was unlike the rest of it: the majority was uttered in obvious anger, but the latter statement was hissed; spat out venomously as though every word was dripping in poison. The seething Sven quickly came to regret both the tone and the words that were enveloped by it, but he wasn't a fool - he knew he couldn't take it back, much like how his actions couldn't simply be waived aside, however deeply he wished they could be.

"I... didn't necessarily mean that," he, nonetheless, weakly attempted, his anger fading and replaced immediately by an unnerve; a silent fear that the grave he had dug for himself had only become deeper with every word he spat out at her in his immature -and unjust- rage. "Carina, I didn't mean that, I-- I'm just-- I need you to-- to see how sorry I am, is all."
 
Carina snorted softly at the irony of his comment. Of course she had chosen to specify on purpose, just as he had done back in the beginning to get under her skin, in the days that she knew her life would end after providing him with an heir and two spares. She released the vanity table for some more moisturising cream, rubbing it into her hands as he continued his heated rant. She had been prepared to ignore his words, to stand and leave him in her room to do as he wished. Clearly he wasn't about to leave so she would have been happy to instead.

Then he brought up more personal matters. More private matters. In front of Natalia.

Her hands slowly lowered to grip the edge of the vanity table again as she held his gaze through the mirror. Her knuckles showed white with the strength she held on and her expression was emotionless... except for the pain and hatred that flared in her eyes.

Two large, thick icicles exploded from her hands outwards, splintering the vanity table into thirds as she pushed herself away from the piece of furniture and stood. The rapid movement caused her stool to kick back, falling to the floor as the vanity table groaned, the two ends falling away to the side as the middle collapsed to the floor. The icicles, with the force of which they had been expelled, had drilled into the stone wall beyond the table, wooden splinters sticking to them with the frozen temperature they provided. The temperature of the room dropped multiple degrees as she made her approach, only pausing three steps away from him as she fought the urge, the temptation, to lay a hand on him.

"Let's get one thing fucking straight here, Sven. I didn't fuck this up. You did. I didn't break my promise. I didn't sleep with someone else. I did everything I promised to do. I withheld nothing. Despite you flaunting her in my face. Despite you questioning me every minute prior." Her anger had her take a step closer, "When you decided to go after the first fucking woman who paid you a hint of attention, did I decide to try and move on? Did I search for someone else to keep my bed warm? No! No, I fucking didn't. Because that is what love is. You don't move on at a drop of a fucking hat. Or in your case, a drop of fucking pants."

Her breathing was shaking, temperamental, uneven and her entire body was trembling at her effort to keep her ice within. Natalia was still in the room. If the woman wasn't... Carina wasn't sure what would happen. However, that didn't stop the windows from frosting over, the condensation unable to escape her power. The tumbler of water on the little table next to her sofa and armchairs crackled and popped as the water became solid ice, the glasses beside it becoming cloudy and opaque. Even the smaller tumbler of whiskey, potent with alcohol, started to harden.

"I have supported you time and again, regardless of if you even fucking deserved it. I have looked out for you when I shouldn't have done. I have forgiven you far too many times. For my kingdom, for my brother, for my own life. I-- I trusted you. Despite everything screaming at me that I shouldn't. You-- you're a selfish bastard, Sven. It's never your fault, is it? It's always everyone else's. It's always up to me or Natalia to clean up your fucking messes. And I'm fucking done with it."

The young queen took the final two steps forward and took hold of his chin, both to ensure he kept his eyes on her and also for him to feel the painful cold of her hand, for him to realise what she could do... but was choosing not to. The power she held, but the control she maintained. Even now.

"You're not sorry. You're just fucking sorry you got caught." She sneered, shoving his face away afterwards, "I hope the better fuck was worth it, darling."

Carina didn't stick around to wait and see how he responded, the icicles being her warning at how close she was to giving into her anger. She walked around him, making a conscious effort to not touch him again, and left. The door slamming behind her.
 
He knew there would be a reaction at some point, be it from the continued acknowledgement of the depth of his betrayal or the slinging of his immature insults. He didn't anticipate Carina accepting the news of his affair calmly - perhaps she would attempt to maintain a grip on such an approach, but he couldn't imagine there would be much longevity in her succeeding to do so, especially when he continued to defy her desires by sticking around and forcing her to endure his pathetic efforts to make her see his way of things.

That said, he didn't envision her reaction to constitute a display of her powers to such an extent. If he had, he would have prepared himself in advance to prevent the shock -and fear- that subsequently erupted across his expression, staining his features without a hint of subtlety. If he had even the slightest inkling that the ice that existed within her veins would find such a terrifying release, he would have been able to remain neutral in the face of it - not stumble back until he was against the far wall and cower in understandable fear that the force of her powers would find their next target in him.

But he hadn't expected it, at least not so ferociously and so quickly. He could only watch from his new position against the wall in horror as the furniture fell into three distinct pieces, that alone reminding him that Carina was far stronger, far more capable, than he really gave her credit for. If she truly wanted to, she could reduce him to similar pieces; have her ice carve through his flesh like a hot knife through butter - and the speed in which her ice was expelled from beneath her was proof, if nothing else, that she could cut him down before he even had a chance to defend himself with his flames.

The fact he was still standing, still breathing, was a surprise to him - though he decided not to press his luck by enquiring why that was.

Frankly, it was a miracle she hadn't lost control and decimated the room with her ice, though he knew Natalia's presence, her reservations in leaving, had helped massively with that, for which he would be eternally grateful. He reached up to hold his jaw as it burned from the tough, icy grip, attempting to compose himself and recover from the embarrassment of pathetically cowering at his wife's proximity to him - though he doubted he would be able to live it down.

To convince anyone that, at his core, he wasn't some snivelling coward who struggled when the authority wasn't in his hands.

Luckily for him, Natalia didn't bother sticking around long enough for his attempt to inevitably breakdown. No, the only thing she wanted to do was to leave the room before the drop in temperature and the visible consequences of Carina's expulsion of ice unnerved her more than they already had. To say she was frightened would be an understatement. Even if she was aware that the restraint had been for her benefit, that the Queen had held back to spare Natalia any potential injury, that didn't mean she was capable of simply waiving aside all she had witnessed; of pretending that she was perfectly comfortable when her anxiety had swollen within her and made it difficult to even look at Carina without it eating at her.

But her own personal discomfort had to be pushed aside for the benefit of her work - as always, others took priority above her own needs.

"Carina--" She began upon exiting the bedroom, only to pause as she stared after the woman further ahead of her in the corridor. The desire to check on her, to ensure she was alright, felt like the right thing to do-- but was it really? Would Carina really appreciate having to work through the incident or answer any of Natalia's well-intentioned questions? The idea of giving her space didn't sit well but, assuming Carina would have waited for her if she did desire company, Natalia instead held back and bit her tongue to stop herself saying anything further, opting instead to follow her duty and head to inform Andrew that his kind offer of bringing breakfast was no longer required.
 
She heard the bedroom door open and close. She heard Natalia say her name. However Carina didn't stop. She didn't pause to allow the woman to catch up, if that was what she choose to do. She didn't want to hear what Natalia had to say in that moment. She didn't want to deal with questions or have to think about how she was feeling. Because she knew they were the questions that would come her way. Asking if she was alright, if she needed anything, if she wanted to walk. If she wanted to talk

She was walking. Walking to see her son. She didn't want to talk. She wanted to shut the world out for a while. She wanted to go some place that no one would find her, even Natalia. She knew the advisor meant well, but she just knew the woman would be hovering around her, checking in constantly, offering to get her tea or some sort of food.

Carina didn't need or want that. She wanted to be left alone by every. Especially Ignisians.

Luckily her anger remained as such, instead of melting into tears like she had feared. Sven's words had hurt, had cut deeply, but had also evoked an rage within her that Carina hadn't felt in years. Even during the days in which they had hated each other and he had used her brother's death to manipulate her.

Because he had tried to manipulate her under the guise of love. He had tried to use all her insecurities, all the ones that he knew about, against her.

Despite knowing that Natalia probably would have advised against her going to see Lorcan until she had calmed, the young queen went anyway. She knew that Lorcan would bring the calm that she so desperately now sought; he would warm her again and cast away the ice that hummed in her veins.

However, her footsteps slowed at the sight of the open nursery door, a maid, a guard and one of the two nannies whispering within the frame. Tears stained the cheeks of the one nanny, Julia, and the guard seemed to be doing a job in holding her up. Her one hand was pressed to the one side of her face, moving to press against her mouth as her sobs continued. The guard held her to him, his arm moving around her back to give her more stability. At the sight of their Queen, the nanny's sobs quietened, but were not replaced with words. Carina's gaze moved across the three of them, her mind immediately trying to work out what was going on.

Had just just interrupted a lover's spat? Perhaps another affair had jut been found out, now that would be a laugh. Perhaps polyamorous relationships were the way to go for Ignisians. However, as amused as she was by her thoughts, Carina sensed that wasn't the answer.

Perhaps they had heard the argument between her and Sven, or rather her explosion of anger. However, she couldn't imagine that was enough to make the young woman cry as passionately as she was.

"What--" She began but was hurriedly interrupted by the maid, "Queen Carina-- Your Majesty-- there's been... there's been an awful thing." She whispered, voice thick, "Nanny Jill she-- Prince Lorcan... he's-- he's gone."

The world seemed to sway. The floor beneath her feet rolled and she had to focus on staying upright. She took in a deep breath and swallowed back the bile that rose in her throat, "Excuse me?"

The maid finally released a sob, which almost sounded like a hiccup with how hard she attempted to smother it, "Prince Lorcan is missing."

That was all she needed to shove her way past the group, her fear rocketing as she fought the heaviness that had come to settle in her limbs. However, She was forced to press a hand for stability against the bookcase nearest the door way at the sight that greeted her, feeling as though she had just slammed straight into an invisible wall.

The nanny that would have been with Lorcan that night was laid out on the floor, a book and a bottle of milk both by her feet from where they had been dropped.

Her throat slit.

The rest was, as cruel as it sounded, unnecessary to Carina. The blood, the murder, the body. All of it. Feeling completely disconnected from her body, Carina stumbled forward, mildly aware of her shoes squelching in the blood that still had yet to be absorbed into the carpet. Her hands gripped the cot, keeping her upright for now, to allow her to see it was empty. Lorcan was gone.

Carina finally felt her knees give way and, as they did, she released a piercing scream of anguish, the noise expelling with a large breath of white. The ice she had been carefully controlling was finally released, engulfing the room in a sheet of silver and white. Including the guard and nanny in the doorway. The maid, who had been tucked behind the wall, screamed as her foot and lower leg was caught, becoming frozen up to her knee - as bitingly cold as frostbite, and as deadly. The young girl fell to the floor, clutching at her knee as she continued to cry out from the pain.

The cot, Lorcan's crib, became crystalised. White with a sheen of blue, glittering in the rising Ignisian morning sun. Carina sat in front of it, sobs wracking her body as she pressed her forehead against the once-wooden bars of the crib. Her arm moved through the gap to wrap her fingers around the now-solid teddy bear. She gripped it firmly, only for her hold to tighten.

Her son was gone. Missing. Carina knew he had to have been taken. And the young queen could hazard a guess at who had kidnapped her child.
 
As keen as he had been to pursue Carina until she heard his side out, the plan that had been at the forefront of his mind not even ten minutes prior was now abandoned. As selfish as Sven could be, as determined as he often was to follow his own desires regardless of the consequences, he did know when to accept defeat and draw a line. That self-awareness didn't always break through to him until it was too late, but it did sometimes pierce the fog that his desires placed over his mind and bring some much needed clarity to the situation - and right now, it had arrived in time to remind him that striding after his wife, appealing for her attention, was the last thing anyone needed.

Was the thought to do that still present in his mind? Astonishingly, yes - he could feel everything he cherished, everything he held dear, slowly starting to slip through his fingers, and his desperation to preserve it meant he was willing to act in any which way to do so; to risk greater consequences if there was even the slightest chance that his actions, inevitably bathed in that desperation, would make a positive impact and save his marriage.

But right now, with his jawline still burning from the icy cold hand that had gripped it and subsequently reminding him of the danger he had been dancing with, he took a seat on Carina's bed and held his head in his hands instead. He knew he was a pitiful sight, still recovering from the fear that he had been riddled with at his wife's dominative approach, but the sympathy he still believed he was worthy of wouldn't be bestowed on him, not know he was left alone with only his thoughts, ranging in intensity, for company.

He was content to remain in that pathetic state, to wallow in his own sadness until he recovered a modicum of composure-- but then the scream sounded. A sharp, shrill noise that pierced the silence without mercy, high in pitch but rich in the force of its emotion, so much so that Sven felt his blood run cold at the mere sound of it. Without knowing the reason, without knowing the context, the chill of dread ran down his spine and his face, which had burned crimson, slowly draining of colour.

Because he knew immediately that the owner of that scream was Carina. Their current marital problems, his duplicitous actions, didn't erase the love he held for her, nor the fierce desire he held to protect her; to cradle her close in difficult times and rid her of her woes. If she needed help, if she found herself in difficulty, it was pure instinct on Sven's part to seek her out and provide support, and so, without caring that she might not wish to see him in that moment, he flung the door to the bedroom open and headed without hesitation in direction of the scream and the anguish.

The dread only intensified as he found himself heading in the direction of the nursery, his heart thumping to such an extent that it was all he could hear. The dull thudding in his eardrums provided some focus as he forced one foot in front of the other in spite of the fear of what he might come to find had settled in his chest. Upon eventually reaching the entrance to his son's nursery, Sven's blue eyes surveyed the scene with a calmness that belied the franticness within. He remained still as he took in the body, the blood, a pained, crying serving girl hysterical Carina and, eventually, a crib without the gurgling, cheery presence of Lorcan within it.

No such emotions appeared on Sven's expression. His features were tense, tight, but remained void of any outward emotion - even if a storm of them raged relentlessly inside. From the understandable panic any loving father would feel to the fiery anger and fury once his mind, like Carina's, came to the realisation that Eris -potentially with the agreement of the West Torterrian royals- was the perpetrator of such a despicable, cruel act, the rush of emotions rendered him frozen; incapable of doing or saying anything as he tried to comprehend the fallout from the kidnapping; tried, desperately, to delude himself into believing that this wasn't happening.

But it was, and the more time he spent trying to believe otherwise was another wasted minute, another wasted second. Time better suited to finding his son and bringing him home.

To retribution and revenge.

Having lost himself to the incandescence of his rage, Sven only became aware of the flames that had engulfed both of his enclosed fists once lifting his eyes from the floor to acknowledge a wary, nervous glance from a nearby Natalia, the adviser having abandoned her duty the moment she, like Sven, acknowledged the screams as Carina's. As tempting as it was for Sven to fully let loose and allow such powers to explode to physicalise his grief, such a reaction wasn't going to help anyone; it wasn't going to help recover Lorcan.

"...Alert the Generals, Natalia. Alert the troops, have them organised and prepared. Have Andrew get my horse ready," he began gruffly to his advisor, only just managing to tear his gaze from his son's empty crib to glance to his right, in her direction. "All our plans, all our preparations - they're to put into practise with haste. We ride -and strike- tonight."

Sensing that offering a counter opinion would a) go down horrifically and b) be entirely useless when the King's mind had been made, Natalia offered a swift nod and tore herself from the room. Every fibre of her being wanted to stay, to take in the situation properly and be best placed to help formulate plans to resolve it, but Sven had made his order - and it was her job to follow it.

"Get the body out of here-- alert her family, continue those proceedings, just-- just get her from the room, it's helping nobody," the King muttered as he took a step further into the nursery, keeping his gaze as far from the deceased as he possibly could. The metallic smell of the shed blood stung his nose, made him want to be sick, but he knew that that nausea was probably more to do with the continued unease at the disappearance of his son. Having miraculously held himself together for the most part, it was only at the clearing of the room that he allowed his expression to finally falter; for his features to crack and the swelling of all of that fear, panic and despair to claim a place on his expression.

"I... I'll find him. I'll bring him home, Carina. I'll-- I'll get him back, even if it kills me. Even if I have to-- to give my life, I will; without hesitation. He'll be home, in your arms, in no time, I... I'll make it happen."
 
"This is your fault. This-- this is all your fault!"

The words escaped Carina before she had a chance to censor them, to moderate the tone in which she spoke and the rage the spilled out with them. She tore herself away from the newly-crystalised cot, swirling up and around to face him. Despite the height difference, she still provided the same threatening stance that she had before. A step away, her body leaning into his space and trembling with the anger that had burst forth. It may have been controllable, if he hadn't pushed her over the edge only minutes ago.

A hand raised, but only to point a finger at him, the appendage shaking in the air as she glared up at him. "You wouldn't have to fucking find him if you hadn't allowed that woman to stay in our lives. Because that's who's done this, Sven. Your little mistress. Your piece of cake on the side. She's done this. Fucking Eris!"

It was then the Queen launched herself, physically launched herself at her husband. However, arms came to wrap around her waist as a guard who had also made his way to the scene at her screams caught her. She screamed again, but this time in her frustration and fury at being halted in her desires to cause Sven the same sort of pain she was feeling (although she knew really, deep down, that he was just as winded by Lorcan's kidnapping as her).

The scene descended into chaos as she planted a hand on the arm of the guard, his rolled up sleeve offering not protection now to the skin that once laid underneath it. He shouted out, yelling as he dropped Carina and stumbled back, his arm becoming stiff and dangerously pale as ice moved under the skin. As another ran towards her with the intention of keeping her under control again, her instinct caused an ice shard to pierce the man's upper thigh and send him tumbling to the ground with a cry of his own. Ice climbed up the wall as she took step after step to be in Sven's personal space again, the thickness of it blocking out the strong rays of the rising morning sun.

"If you think I'm trusting you to stay true to your word again," she whispered to him, voice thick with venom, "Then you are a fucking idiot." She held his gaze for longer than necessary, wanting him to see all the pain and disgust and hatred she felt for him in that one moment alone.

She then pulled away, spinning on the ball of her foot as she headed for the nursery door, "You can't be trusted. I should have learned that a long fucking time ago. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice..." She shook her head, eye catching the body of the nanny before moving on to the other nanny and guard who had gotten caught up in her expulsion of ice. The maid, who's lower leg was no engulfed in ice and frostbite, was already on her way to the infirmary.

Once Carina got to the door, she turned back to Sven, ignoring the groans of the guards she had taken down. There was little care for if she hurt him with her words. He had hurt her. Now it was time for him to feel the pain.

"Be grateful I want to kill her more than I wish for your head at this very moment. Because I will kill her, Sven. Or I'll die trying. She's officially taken everything from me. She'll be dead before tomorrow morning, that I promise you."
 
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Unprepared for the ferocity he was met with (though he quickly noted that he was naive at best -and idiotic at worst- for not expecting it), Sven stared in silent horror as his wife turned to expel her anger at him. She was justified in doing so, which he would come to acknowledge once he was alone, but in the moment, when he was emotionally wrought and struggling to comprehend the depth of the grief that had settled inside him, having to also face the brunt of Carina's disgust with him wasn't... ideal. He knew better than to start whining in an appeal for sympathy, but the immediate feeling was one of unfairness; of confusion that he was somehow, supposedly, to blame for the actions of a duplicitous Eris.

It was a refusal on his part to accept that, if he really thought about it, Carina wasn't incorrect - because how could he possibly contend with the guilt that would hit him if he allowed himself to believe he was in the wrong? He wanted to fight that accusation away and place the blame entirely on Eris, to clear himself of the guilt that already threatened to attack him-- but the longer Carina's words rang loudly in his head, the less struggle he was able to maintain. The wall he placed up to protect himself from the accusation landing gradually chipped away as she continued to lambast him, up until it eventually crumbled altogether and the wave of guilt it had been holding back swarmed in relentlessly.

Because he should feel guilty. He had initiated a continuance of their affair and led her back into his life, risked the safety of his son by flirting with the danger that Eris, in her desire to get what she wanted, possessed. She was ultimately to blame for her actions - but to waive aside his own culpability was displaying that level of immaturity that, given the gravity of the situation before them, was of no use to anyone.

Before he had a chance to utter a word, he became aware of the other launching herself towards him with the intent seeming to be to lay harm on him. Time seemed to slow as she approached, Sven uncapable of moving to avoid the attack being put into action - or unwilling to, as if, on some unconscious level, he was aware that he deserved whatever was about to come to him. It didn't materialise the way either of them had expected, with his guard stepping in before Carina could see her action through, which was when Sven came to realise that he had, in fact, eventually moved to avoid her-- even if that form of action was to pathetically stumble backwards, tripping on his own feet and landing with a harsh thud onto the floor beneath him.

His eyes glistened with sudden tears at the continuation of her venomous verbal attack, his lip threatening to quiver as each of her words that landed only encouraged his self-hatred, his guilt, to grow and fester in him - as it ought to.

"I... I don't care if you kill her. I'll-- I'll kill her if I see her first, you-- y-you don't have to trust me, but I... I will," he stammered awkwardly as he pushed himself to his feet, a hand immediately rising to wipe his eyes without a semblance of subtlety. He didn't enjoy exposing such vulnerabilities to anyone but Carina, so to have others in the room witnessing their King teary-eyed and stumbling over his words wasn't... ideal, but he was in no place to care about it. He eyed the injured guard in a moment of dismay though, again, he couldn't find it in himself to care, not when the disappearance of his son and the guilt he harboured over his part in helping those actions unfold tended to dominate every one of his thoughts.

This wasn't how he wanted to leave things with Carina before heading to war. He anticipated the day arriving sometime in the near future, in the next few weeks, where his wife would be at his side, offering him a final moment of much-needed encouragement. She would kiss him, promise him that he had nothing to worry about and that he would be home, with her and Lorcan, in no time. Any nerves he felt, any self-conscious doubts, would be erased with a whisper of fierce support from the woman he loved, encouraging his motivation and belief that he could return to Ignis victorious.

Instead, the plans for the next few weeks were to be torn up in favour of an immediate attack, Lorcan's disappearance understandably pushing them to action that very day - and though that came with the expected nerves and fears, Sven didn't have Carina at his side to help alleviate them. He didn't have her fierce support, her gentle encouragement, her insistences that they would succeed and be together, safe and triumphant, once the battling ceased.

No, he was forced to accept the fact that he would board his horse alone, where guilt, despair, doubts and fear would reign without comfort; where he would proceed to lead his army in the knowledge that, even if they succeeded, he would return to Ignis to a broken marriage and a broken family.

It was hard to be the strong, brave and confident King the men of his army needed him to be when his life was crumbling down around him.

It was that guilt -and the unwillingness to provoke her- that led to Sven quietly nodding and parting from the room without a further comment. He wanted to tell her how much he loved her, how deeply he cared for her, because he would be stupid not to accept the fact that this could be his last chance to do so; that he could die at the hands of a West Torterrian soldier and never have the opportunity to see or speak to the woman he loved again.

But he couldn't. He didn't want to hurt her more than he already had and so, to spare her the pain of hearing those words (and comparing them to the unloving actions he had been involved in behind her back for weeks), he just... left, proceeding onwards to ensure the word of the commencement of war had reached the ears of the appropriate people.
 
Carina was numb to his tears.

A sight that once would have had her wavering and crumbling under the guilt that she had caused them or the desperation to support him now meant nothing to her. How many tears had she cried because of him during the last two years of her life? How many would she cry after today, because of his betrayal? Too many. It would be too many.

And she was coming to realise that it was enough. She would not forgive him this time, for too much had been done.

He had promised to be a good man. He had promised to love her. He had promised to give Eris up. He had promised they would be a family again.

If he had lied about those things, returned to his manipulative and cruel behaviours and kept up his relationship with Eris, there was no knowing for Carina what else he had lied about. Even his love now was in doubt. Just as hers had once been for him.

"Well I'm sorry if I disbelieve anything that you say you'll do when it comes to her. You don't have a good track record of following through with your promises to me about her." The snide response, sharp and sneered, was thrown at his retreating back. A sight she had to snort at. How she hadn't seen it before, but it was so clear now. Anything that didn't go his way, something that wasn't won by his masterful manipulation, he walked away from.

Carina remained pressed into the wall long after he had left, having moved out of the doorway as he had left the nursery. She didn't even want to feel his sleeve brush against hers. It was then that Carina realised her level of anger. One that was smoldering beneath the surface, so dangerously inviting that she found herself longing to dip her fingers into it. She wanted to unleash it, all of it, the full two years of it that she had either kept below the surface because she said she loved him, because they promised to do better, because she had forgiven him again and again.

As she thought it over, she realised she needed to walk. She needed to go somewhere that, if her ice was expelled, it wouldn't hurt anyone. She knew that he would be arranging the plans for attack with Natalia, bringing forward weeks of planning simply because he hadn't heeded her warning about Eris from the very start.

If he had, who knew where they would be.

She would seek out Natalia once she was calmer. Because she would not be sitting around waiting for their army to return, either victorious or not, either with her son or without. She would join them in battle. Regardless if they wanted her there or not.
 
In spite of the emotions raging ruthlessly within him, what choice did Sven have but to arrive at his office and plan for the commencement of the war? He wanted to retreat to his bedroom like a child; to block out everything going on beyond those walls and pretend, even for the slightest of moments, that his life didn't encompass the mess it currently did. He couldn't quite believe just how badly everything had become for him, how he had spurned the chance to make something he could be proud of. The family, the wife, the respect. the admiration... all of it was thrown aside for a few cheap thrills with someone he naively believed understood him; who accepted him.

Only now was he able to reflect on the interaction and realise that he had been played, fed a taste of his own medicine by becoming a victim to Eris' manipulation. She had used him to get what she wanted and then unceremoniously hit him where it hurt when his purpose to her had deteriorated - and he had fallen for it all like a fool blinded by lust. For her, he wasted time away from his son, betrayed his wife, risked his entire kingdom losing their faith and their trust in him.

All he could do now was head into war and hope beyond all else that Ignis came out the victor. Only then could he see himself winning back support from his people... though when he knew in his heart that he had lost Carina, and potentially Lorcan, what joy could he take from the respect of the Ignisians when he was going to lose the most important people in his life irrespective of a victory? He had to accept that his actions had consequences... even if that acknowledgement only reinforced his guilt and made him want to bury his head pathetically beneath the sand as if that would somehow stop the pain, the aching, that currently felt like it would forever consume him.

Though she really wanted nothing to do with helping him in any way (right now when everything was emotionally raw, at least), Natalia didn't have the right to object when her duty to Sven, to the kingdom, had to take priority. And so, even though she found his presence sickening, the advisor stood to his side as he brought his generals into his room to delve into the plans that had been carefully constructed over weeks; plans that weren't to be put into operation for several more.

But current circumstances, imbued with such frantic desperation, made the plan for later commencement irrelevant. They had to strike now - and frankly, that was the only latest decision of Sven's that Natalia felt comfortable supporting.

When the hurried meeting concluded, she stepped from the room with every desire to head outside and allow the air to ease her stress. However thick with warmth the Ignisian air tended to be, Natalia had always found comfort in it - and she needed it now more than ever before. She was only a few steps down the corridor before the thought of Carina, grief-stricken and pained, flitted to her mind, causing her to pause her walk and turn on her heel to find the woman.

She knew there was every chance Carina would yell at her to be left alone, to take her grief out in the form of rage, but the advisor couldn't just... leave her friend in that state without showing that she cared for her; that she was ready to sit at her side and offer support if that was what she wanted.

Carina had been there for her when nobody else had been - and in a moment of such tragedy, she wanted to return that favour. To show Carina that she was with her for the good times and the bad.
 
Carina hadn't run away to her room. Or to the library. Or to the gardens. Now was not a time for comfort and familiarity, especially in places that also held warm and happy memories that would now only pain her with what used to be. Her husband, faithful and loving. Their relationship heading in the right direction. Them building up the trust and amicable atmosphere before it turned into the unthinkable. She didn't need to be reminded of those memories, not when what had been done would leave them forever tainted. Would leave everything forever tainted.

No. Instead, Carina had made her way down to the armoury. She remembered Sven bragging in their early days about his lovers and that one was a female knight. That meant there would be armour for women.

Armour for her.

The Master of Armoury was moving around the queen who was newly dressed once again. Now adorning trousers, a cotton shirt and leather boots, it was a far cry from the woman who had worn only dresses for the majority of her life. Her white-blonde hair had been braided and swooped over her one shoulder.

"--The King can feel however he wishes about this. He forfeited the right to having any opinion on what I did the moment he continued to sleep with his traitorous little mistress. Now, please hold your tongue and find me what I need."

Her voice would slip out the door that had been left slightly ajar, sharp and unimpressed by the man who was trying to obviously convince her that what she was planning to do was not entirely sensible. Made even worse by his suggestion that Sven wouldn't like her getting involved with battle. Carina felt that he would have surrendered to her desires with the glare she had provided, let alone her cold words.

She hadn't ever been into battle before. The day Eira fell, she had been put in a room with her ladies to wait. So she waited. And waited. And waited as Eira fell. When she had been found, fleeing through the halls, she had finally given up with waiting. She had gone to help. Gone to find her brother and her father who she knew had been fighting. She had no experience with using weapons like Emmett had done, or any experience about what it was like to ride into battle and meet her enemy head on.

But she would die for her loved ones. She could wield her ice as a weapon as well as the finest swordsman in any army. And that was what she would do.

"...Does... does the King know that Your Majesty is seeking armour--?" The Master began to ask, the hesitance in his voice clear.

Carina abruptly pulled away from him as he was clipping together the piece to go onto her forearm, yanking her arm away from him and gritting her teeth as she fought to keep her ice below the surface again. "The King does. Not. Matter!" She snapped, "Your Queen wishes for armour. Your Queen has told you to hold your tongue. So stop asking so many questions and do your job."
 
Perhaps it was doing Carina a disservice to assume she sought out places of comfort rather than immediately seek to take action, but Natalia's first thought had been to check such places as the library and the gardens. Even as the commencement of war had become a difficult reality to accept, the advisor didn't immediately assume that the Queen of the kingdom had taken the monumental decision to make herself a part of the proceedings, at least in the very real, physical sense of the word. As she checked every room, headed desperately down every corridor (and abandoning the usual air of professionalism in her desperation, frantically asking every staff member she came across if they knew where the Queen had headed), not once did she hold the belief that Carina would make such drastic decisions.

The thought of potentially losing Sven to the war was horrendous. Even after all he had done (and possibly would continue to do because she refused to accept that he would resist making ridiculous decisions, it seemed to be who he was at his core these days), he still meant a great deal to her; the one person she could honestly claim was her best friend, even if that admission came with a great deal of guilt these days after all the betrayal and hurt he had caused. Nonetheless, Sven had been in her life since she was a young teenager, when she had no respect to her name - and he had put his trust in her, promised that, as he rose to power, she would be at his side, and that had been a promise he had kept, which was mostly why she felt so inclined to be as loyal as she was.

Though she wouldn't dream of spilling any tears just yet, not when there were things that still needed to be organised and approved, there were undoubtedly emotions threatening to break the surface the more she considered that he was to head out to a bloody, violent war against a devious King who supported Eris' cruelty in the kidnapping of the young Ignisian prince. They played dirty, took out tactics bathed in abhorrence, so was it any surprise that Natalia feared for her friend's safety? However exceptionally trained Sven was, however powerful and however smart he was, there was a risk to his life and the advisor would always fear it for as long as the war proceeded.

With that fear for someone as trained as Sven, Natalia froze in genuine horror as she stood just beyond the armoury room, Carina's determined, sharpened words within it reaching her with little trouble. The idea of Carina heading to join the army at war, of potentially losing her to the battles too, horrified the advisor as she had to physically hold onto the wall to force back the wave of nausea that hit her. Her face drained of its colour as she forced her feet to continue forward, to push herself into making an appearance into the only room of the castle she had yet to check (which in itself spoke volumes about how unexpected Carina's decision was to her). Despite understanding the anger that arose from the Queen at the Master of Armoury's doubtful trepidation, Natalia could hardly stand back and allow the scene to unfold, allow Carina to make such a decision, without also voicing her concerns, especially when hers came from a place of care.

And fear.

"You-- You cannot-- Carina-- ma'am, you cannot be serious, surely?" She proceeded, her voice shaking as the enormity of Carina's decision continued to sink in, unable to delude herself into thinking the other wasn't serious when, from her chosen attire, her decision had already been made. Subsequently, Natalia stepped back against the wall to provide herself support, to prevent herself from stumbling onto the floor as the idea of losing both her friends to the warfare continued to torment her.

"N-No, you-- you cannot go too, Carina, I... I can't... the thought of you both o-out there, I... please. Please don't go, please just stay here and-- and be safe, please."
 
Her head sharply lifted from where she had taken on the task to clasp the armour to her forearm, fed up and furious at the Master's continuous questioning and forcing him to stand meekly in the corner of the room. Carina's expression, hard and unwavering, softened only slightly at Natalia's entrance. Only for that moment of relenting emotion to be swallowed up by her frustrations as she heard the advisor's disbelief.

"You know one thing I've become fed up of in my life, Natalia?" She posed the question to the other woman, finishing the clasp and walking to the Master to take the other forearm piece from him. It was oddly satisfying, hearing the metal move against each other. "I've become so tired of hearing people tell me what I should and shouldn't do." She lifted her head to stare out the window, working on the second clasp by feel rather than sight.

"...I should do what the old monarchs demand to stay alive. I should behave and pop our heirs for Sven, that could give me a few more months of life. I should stay inside, the people could kill me otherwise. I should stick to the plan to murder Sven, otherwise lose my friend. I should be a good little queen and worry about my pregnancy, not affairs of state. I should beg for Sven to forgive me and plead for him to recognise that I still love him, that I tried to call off the attempt on his life. I should be a good mother and focus on Lorcan. I shouldn't bother myself with state matters. I should blame myself that Sven slept with another woman. I should forgive him, because it's all my fault."

Her head turned back to Natalia as her hands lowered back to her side, now finished with the forearm armour. She studied the advisor, recognising and understanding that it was concern for her safety and nothing else that made her want to keep Carina back from battle. However, she knew she couldn't just settle for that. She couldn't allow that.

"And now I have people telling me that I shouldn't go into battle and fight for a kingdom I have helped improve. I shouldn't go despite it being my son who's life is now on the line. I shouldn't go and find the bitch who has ruined everything and taken everything from me that I once held dear." Her hands tightened into fists in her attempt to keep her ice at bay once more, the young queen releasing a long breath with the movement. "I am not about to leave Lorcan's return in the hands of a man who I can no longer trust."

She turned away, approaching the Master who reluctantly stepped forward to begin placing some shoulder pieces. Carina allowed herself a period of silence, needing a moment to calm herself after recognising how she had riled herself up.

"I waited in Eira and it fell. I lost my family in a matter of weeks because of it. I am not about to let that happen again here. Even if Lorcan is the only one I can save now. I am not about to fail twice, Natalia."
 
Natalia grew silent at what felt like a chastisement for doing little other than communicating her concern for her friend. She wasn't unsympathetic to the Queen's predicament, far from it. She might not have children of her own (that particular dream seemed destined to remain just that, a dream) so perhaps she couldn't understand the deep pain or connect to the level of anger that Carina was experiencing, but she wasn't heartless to it: she understood that this entire situation was horrifying and unfair and cruel.

And when Carina doted on Lorcan, when she loved him as obviously as she did, Natalia wasn't surprised that she felt that taking such drastic measures were appropriate, particularly when she took into account that this was the only way she could guarantee that there was effort being put in into retrieving Lorcan. Natalia may not doubt Sven's desire to reunite with his son, nor his determination to punish those that had been unthinkably cruel in snatching him in the first place, but Carina was justified in being doubtful.

Even if Natalia found that doubt slightly unfair (Sven had always been a good father, after all), she held her tongue and chose not to invalidate her friend's feelings - particularly when she did have cause for feeling them.

And yet, just because she happened to understand and have sympathy for the pain the other was undoubtedly experiencing, feeling reprimanded and talked down to for voicing her concerns (as she felt she was entitled to, both professionally as an advisor and personally as her friend) didn't sit well. She held back the wave of dissatisfaction upon realising that, in the midst of the commencement of war and the painful circumstances pushing it forward, throwing a fuss over her hurt feelings wasn't appropriate - and she doubted anyone would even care when there were far more worrying, pressing matters to prioritise.

But the feeling that she was being patronised to, as though she didn't already understand the shit Carina had been made to endure throughout her time in Ignis, didn't just leave. Just because she chose not to bring attention to her annoyance didn't mean she could stand in observation of Carina's choice, acting as though she was pleased with the decisions being made and unaffected by the tone being delivered to her. Her genuine care for her friend and the understanding that this was hardly an easy time for her was what encouraged Natalia to remain in place and to do so quietly.

Because she cared and didn't wish to make an already stressful incident anymore difficult for her.

"...You can do as you wish, I'm not here to stop you," she eventually concluded, the words taking every ounce of strength she had left within her - but the delivery, composed and calm, made that sapping of strength worth it. Her emotional, heartfelt delivery wasn't something she was comfortable with when it countered her preference for terseness and control - and when it had achieved nothing but a sharp response, what was the point in a show of such emotions? All they did was make her feel weak and without the control she needed in her role, especially now she was looking to keep a castle running without either of its royals at its helm.

"I'm sure you don't care to hear my opinions on the matter, you've made that abundantly clear," she continued, unable to stop herself from uttering one clipped remark; "...but I admire your decision and I support it if this is something you feel you need to do. Be careful and... just return to Ignis alive, at least. That's all I ask of you."

With a faint, professional nod void of the quiet informality she had grown used to discreetly offering to the Queen in the times of their growing friendship, she took one final look at the armoury before turning on her heel and exiting the room almost as quickly as she had entered it, albeit without the open display of her panic and confusion - because neither the panic nor the confusion were going to help her, help the royals or help the kingdom at large.

Was it tempting to do as Sven often did and lock herself away; wallow in self-pity and allow her stresses, her frustrations, to overwhelm her? Oh, without a doubt - but she had people looking to her to maintain the smooth running of the kingdom; to keep that slither of normalcy running even in a time of turmoil and unpredictability. She couldn't detach herself and relieve herself of her pent-up emotions. No, she had to do as she always did and put them to the side to prioritise her work for Ignis, even if it was becoming increasingly more difficult to do so.
 
Later, when she had time to think, Carina was sure she would come to regret the way in which she reacted to Natalia's concern. She knew her friend was only looking out for her, concerned for her, scared for her. Hell, she would be if the roles were reversed. But between her own fear for Lorcan's safety and the pain of the betrayal she had only unveiled the night before and then the anger at Sven's attempts to manipulate her and get her to blame herself...

Carina didn't have much room for anything else.

She remained staring at the door once the advisor walked out, her hands tensing into and out of fists as she tried to keep a grasp of her emotions. She couldn't afford to let them get the better of her in that moment. She would apologise to Natalia later - she was a grown woman. Right now, Carina's priorities were getting Lorcan back. Even if it meant that she personally didn't come back.

It was why she didn't call after Natalia to promise that to her. Carina found herself numb to the prospect of death or coming back to Ignis. Of course she wanted to live for her son and to see him grow up. But at the same time, she was already self-aware of the lack of care she had in returning to Ignis safe and alive. All she knew was that she would give up her own life in order to save Lorcan's. He was one of the few good things left in her life now. She would rather lose her life rather than live with knowing she couldn't protect her own son.

"Hurry up, if I miss heading out with them all, then it's on your head." Carina finally snapped, head turning to address the Master over her shoulder.

The older man immediately picked up the pace, having slowly during the encounter between the Queen and the advisor. Carina turned her head back to eye up the door, partially considering going after Natalia and demanding that the woman keep her mouth shut when it came to Sven. She didn't want him finding out her plans and trying to stop her as a result.

Although, at this point, Carina would enjoy seeing him try. She would enjoy it even more putting him down a few pegs in response to any attempts to stop her.

With that thought in mind, she turned back to face the front of the room, allowing the Master to work around her on the final pieces of armour. Including a belt for some throwing knives and a short sword. Not that Carina would use it, she couldn't imagine a world where she would choose such things over her ice. Which had always been so reliable.
 
It did cross Natalia's mind to rush off and inform Sven - not out of petty revenge for the way Carina had spoken to her, but rather because, arguments and betrayals aside, Sven probably had the right to know that his wife, the mother of his child, was planning to head out to into the inevitably brutal war that awaited them. Yet, even though she knew that laying that information at his door was the right thing to do, she lacked the energy to involve herself in the marital difficulties between the two, especially at such a trying, stressful time. Perhaps she would also be full of regret once she reflected upon the decision later that night, but right now, the last thing she wanted to do was see Sven; to be the catalyst to another potentially explosive argument.

No, they could sort it out themselves. For once, she lacked the determination to support both the royals when she took issue with both of their behaviours and decisions as of late (albeit more with Sven than with Carina, for obvious reasons) and so, instead of rushing to her King to keep him informed, as fell under her job description, Natalia opted to inform the staff of the developments; to ensure that, even at a time of great flux and uncertainty, no-one forgot their duties to the running of the castle. Even if it wouldn't house its King, Queen or Prince in the next few weeks (or however long the war dragged on for), there were still duties to uphold; responsibilities to continue - and though there would inevitably be less pressure on the staff, more spare time on their hands to do with as they wished, Natalia was keen on setting the record straight before any of them seized the opportunity to abandon their roles altogether for the foreseeable future.

When war concluded and the royals ventured back to Ignis (Natalia could only pray that they did so alive and well), then they needed to arrive back to a castle that was well-run; where its staff had kept it in the best condition possible for its owners' return. If whipping everyone into shape, reminding them of their duty to the crown, resulted in her popularity amongst the staff dipping lower than ever before, so be it - she was used to them despising her for her strictness, but when she was good at what she did, when she was the reason for everything running as smoothly in the castle as it did, she could accept being disliked.

Nothing was going to stop her ensuring that things continued with a degree of normalcy, even without Sven and Carina present.

Though that decision left Sven in the dark over his wife's decision, it didn't do so for too long - not when he made his way to the armoury to retrieve his sword once the emergency meeting with his generals concluded. The overall air in said meeting was one of ominousness, each man aware that, though they had made countless preparations, they were heading into a fight they weren't... ready for, not when the decision to strike had been sprung upon them without warning. And when Eris was seemingly on the side of their enemy, able to provide the West Torterrian King of the likely tactics that had been prepared, even the abrupt decision to strike before their rivals expected it was undercut - the element of surprise might bring an initial benefit, but would that bring success when Eris was always in the other King's ear, able to enlighten him regarding likely Ignisian moves and advances?

Sven had a good relationship with his Generals, but to say the meeting had gone well, that he had instilled hope in them, would be a lie. He had felt uncomfortable under the heat of their glares, unsettled by the doubtful frowns on their lips, particularly unnerved when one dared to mention Eris and how detrimental the affair was to their chances of success, but there was little Sven could do about reprimanding the man when... well, when he had a point; one that Sven couldn't defend himself against. All he could do was utter out meaningless platitudes, nothing he said succeeding in rallying the troops for the war.

Not when he, as their King, looked the epitome of nervous. The absence of his son fired him up, enraged him, but as the time ticked by, as the war became closer to dawning on him, Sven found himself growing frantic with anxiety - and that nervousness, that fear, couldn't be hidden however much he tried. Even when he arrived at the armoury room and his eyes landed on the sight of his wife in the attire fit for war, that fear for what awaited him, awaited them all, didn't lift from his expression, however much it battled with the confusion (and eventual discomfort) at the sight of Carina's battle gear.

"...I need my sword, fetch it for me," he murmured across to the armoury master, unable to actually lift his eyes to address him when they were fixed on Carina. He wanted to scream at her for her stupidity, demand that she remain in Ignis where he could more or less guarantee her survival, but he said nothing; communicated nothing.

Because what right did he actually have to request that of her? He had lost any right he had to make an influence in her life when he betrayed her as spectacularly as he did, and when her son was in a stranger's arms, taken from his own crib, Sven couldn't deny a mother her desire to rescue her child. His mother would never have headed into war for him; would never have been overcome with any emotion other than embarrassment that a rival had infiltrated Ignisian defences, so to see Carina so determined to retrieve Lorcan was something to admire, rather than be outraged by. Was his fear exacerbated at the idea of losing the woman he loved in the midst of the bloodiness of war? Naturally - but he held his tongue, aware that nothing he could say would stop her.

And he wanted to avoid another argument with her at all costs.

"We ride in five minutes," he continued to mutter, only now able to glance away from her. "If you want to come, then come. I'm not going to stop you doing what you need to do for-- for Lorcan. Hate me all you want to, Carina, but I... I love our son. And if I'm heading to get him back, to punish those who took him, I... I can't stop you seeking to do the same. I won't."
 
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