The Second Archon War: Comedia Glacialis 20

Comedia Glacialis 20: The Princess’ Lonesome Aria

Kollei remembered her first home only vaguely. It had seemed enormous and comfortable, but looking back at it, she had lived in a drafty old apartment building that had probably been cramped for her family. Still, it had been a paradise compared to where she had lived after the Behemoth came. Bombed out ruins. Holes in the ground, covered only with a tarp. Slowly dying of starvation, hypothermia, and radiation poisoning. 

Now she lived in a palace woven from ice and starlight by a god, surrounded by every luxury imaginable, with a legion of servants at her every beck and call. A palace that was inhabited by monsters, from the living storm known as The Sleeper, to Baba Yaga, and worst of all, Kollei’s own mother. 

Sometimes, Kollei missed the hole with a tarp. Life had been simpler then. 

Now wasn’t the time to reminisce. Kollei sat upon her mother’s throne, her mother’s Gnosis in her hands, a crown of ice upon her brow. Russia hovered upon a knife’s edge. Kollei had seen visions of the past in the ice. When the ruler faltered, when weakness was shown, the supposed servants could turn upon their mistress, and rip her and the land to bloody rags in their struggle for power. She could not allow this to happen. And so, while her mother slept on, Kollei had to rule. 

To do that, she needed to find something for the five individuals who knelt before her to do. Something that did not involve them staying in the palace and plotting against her. She had seen what happened to armies with powerful leaders who were allowed to languish in the ice as well. Civil war and unrest were only the beginning. She could not allow that distant vision to become reality. 

And so, Kollei did what so many leaders before her did when they had armies and generals who lay idle. She sent them to war and conquest. 

My Harbingers, Kollei said, forcing herself to speak in a calm, measured voice, and praying her voice wouldn’t squeak. Her courses had stopped, and she wasn’t sure why: she’d had a major growth spurt since being healed and having access to enough healthy food, but in the last couple of weeks, her growth had halted completely according to Riley. Perhaps it was overexposure to Elemental Energy. Perhaps it was her giving up her Vision. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that Russia survived, and her Mother’s plans with it. 

Are Our forces prepared?

The armies of the Empire stand ready, The Thief said, his voice echoing slightly within his mask, and imbued with power. We march upon your word. 

We have delayed too long. The Finns have dug in and prepared for an assault, the Witch said, tilting her head up just enough that her glowing eyes were visible under the brim of her purple and blue hat. She wore her mask always now, the hideous scar that she had received in the Cauldron Raid still festering on her face, despite all Riley could do. 

Do you think the preparations of mortals can stymie you, Yelizaveta Mirova? Kollei asked, her voice full of all the warmth of winter’s heart. It should have been painful to speak this way. But she was numb. Her heart could only be full of ice, now. Even as it bled. 

A flash of a grin under the Witch's mask, and Baba Yaga bowed her head. No, Highness. 

Kollei nodded, then turned to the Prince. You shall summon forth our Storm, Ivan Petrov. The Finns prepare for a spring and summer war. We shall give them a Winter War.

As you say, My Lady. So it shall be, the Prince agreed. He did not wear a carved and painted wooden mask; his hung about his neck. But Kollei was quite certain the handsome face of flesh was just as much a mask for this creature. 

Next, Kollei turned to the Dancer. You shall secure our border in the Baltics. Ensure that the Knights of the Wind God do not attempt to make any incursions in Our territory. And that the citizenry embraces the Love of Our Mother.

“As you command, Highness,” Anastasia said in a whisper devoid of power. That was not good. She wasn’t wearing her mask, and though her eyes were no longer puffy with tears, she was close to a broken woman now. Kollei would keep her from the front lines for now, but she needed a Harbinger, not a grieving wreck of a woman. 

At least Anastasia wasn’t scheming against her, unlike Yeleniza and Anatoly. Already Kollei had been forced to deal with several instances of insubordination. Nothing overt, but orders would get lost, or delayed, or misinterpreted. Thankfully, she had at least one utterly loyal instrument that was still effective. 

Riley Grace Davis. You shall continue to attend to Our Mother and manufacture Delusions. 

It was the sort of thing that Kollei felt as though it wasn’t her speaking when the words left her mouth. Sometimes, when she gripped the Gnosis, she could feel her Mother’s will and Voice flowing through her. It was frightening, but it was the one thing keeping her going, which in turn was the one thing keeping Russia going. 

Yes, Highness, Pater agreed. She wore a bearded mask with a grinning face and long curly hair. It should have looked ridiculous but with Riley’s Dendro Delusion causing her eyes to glow green, it looked ominous instead. She’d figured out how to use the Gnosis to manufacture more Delusions, and that was one thing that would keep Russia as a world power. Unlimited access to crafted capes was a major game changer. 

After that, Kollei addressed the troops, both in a large parade in the central square of New Moscow and over the television set. There was no need to launch a sneak attack: as soon as the world saw the blizzard forming in Saint Petersburg and marching North into Finland, they would know what was planned. 

The words that poured out of Kollei had been carefully shaped by her speech writers and ministers to inspire loyalty and devotion in her soldiers, and the Love she infused her words with using the Gnosis would ensure they were effective. 

…and so, march now to reclaim the Grand Duchy of Finland, and restore Our Beloved Tsaritsa as the rightful ruler! she finished. 

As her soldiers cheered, Kollei felt like vomiting. How many of these men and women, only a few years older than she, would not return from this war? How many Finns would perish in this battle? Over 100,000 sons of Russia had perished in the first Winter War. How many would die this time? 

Is this what Love should be? Is this what Mother would want? 

No. She couldn’t think like that. The prize in this fight was the survival of mankind. The forfeit, the annihilation of all of Fate at the hands of the Sustainer. She had to gather in as much of humanity as she could. If she Loved the Finns, they must become her Mother’s. Otherwise, they and so many more were doomed to perish. 

What was her conscience in the face of such an altar? 

Nothing. Just like her dead Vision that remained hidden in her bedside vanity. 

After the speech, there was a grand ball and party, where capes and officers in glittering uniforms danced. One thing Kollei did appreciate was the glamor and pomp that the new Imperial Age had ushered in. Coats lined with ermine and bear fur. Polished black cavalry boots. Golden buttons and shining gems on the pommels of swords. 

For the party, Kollei’s escorts were the Vasil siblings, sent by Pater.

“Highness,” they said, bowing in unison. They were dressed in matching black uniforms, with pants for Jean-Paul, and a pleated skirt for Cherie. Both had gold buttons, with a blue bowtie for Jean Paul to compliment his Cyro Vision, while Cherie had a green ribbon about her neck, almost like a collar. And, oddly enough, she’d gained a pair of cat ears on her head, which Kollei found herself staring at. 

“Pater gave them to me, to remind me I’m nothing but an animal,” Cherie said, her tone neutral, but her eyes smoldering with anger. Jean-Paul gave his sister an irritated look, his lip curling slightly in disgust. Well, no love lost between these two. 

“Perhaps if you serve me well, I shall have her remove them,” Kollei said, giving Cherie a sad smile. 

The color drained out of Cherie’s face, and her hand went automatically to her ears as they folded flat on her head. “N-No, Highness. P-Please, please don’t. I…I am Pater’s loyal p-pet.” 

“And if you’re not, Pater will give you a tail to match,” Jean-Paul said with a roll of his eyes. 

Cherie actually hissed at her brother, and for a moment, her eyes changed to cat-like pupils, and her nails sharpened to claws. Perhaps she would be a better bodyguard than window dressing after all. Then she hastily bowed meekly to Kollei. “I-I am sorry, Highness. I shall be your loyal servant. Only-”

“There is no ‘only!’ We serve our Family,” Jean-Paul said, kicking his older sister in the shin. 

She winced, but nodded and kept her posture subservient. 

Kollei fought back a sigh. Even children like these…but then again…they were the children of Heartbreaker. One of the most powerful Masters on record, her own Mother aside of course. Tools. Weapons. Why did Kollei have to think of people as such?

Because if you Love too deeply, you will never be able to do what must be done, as your Mother wished. She knows best. I must do as she commanded. 

Just before entering the ballroom, Kollei paused in front of a mirror and studied her reflection. Her hair, which had been turning slightly green, was bleeding away its color, with the tips going platinum blonde. Her eyes had flecks of blue ice in them now, and her skin was becoming paler, her freckles fading. 

For her clothes, they were of the finest cut: a light blue and cream colored gown, with a pearl and sapphire laced corset that had needed to be padded to give her much of a womanly figure. She bore the Gnosis as a necklace, one that she never removed. With it, she could feel her connection to all Ice, all Love. 

What a pity there was so much Ice and so little Love to be found at her ball. 

“Time to take the stage,” Kollei whispered to herself, hand resting upon the glowing Gnosis. 

A twisted smile formed on Cherie’s lips and she readied the door. “Lights, camera…”

“Action,” Kollei breathed, and nodded to the girl. Girl. They were the same age, fifteen or so. And yet, Kollei felt so much older…

The door swung open, and the dazzling blue light of the ball made Kollei’s heart skip a beat. She stepped out after Jean-Paul, who cried, “Presenting, her most Benevolent Imperial Highness, Princess Kollei Bronislavna Snezhnaya!”

The music that had been playing, a somber waltz, halted, as all the dancers and guests turned to the grand stairway that Kollei was descending from. One and all, they bowed low, then stood and applauded, with more than a few cheers of, “Hail, Princess!” or “Victory for Russia!” 

Kollei waved grandly to them, a frozen mask of calm grace fixed on her face. When she spoke, she kept her voice soft, but used the Gnosis so that it would be easily heard by all who perceived her, no matter how distant they were. 

My beloved subjects, this night is for you. Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow, you march to war and glory. Know that my Love, and the Love of my Mother, the Tsaritsa, goes with you.

More cheers and applause, and Kollei let her eyes wander the room for a moment, before going down to the dance floor, Jean-Paul and Cherie close behind her. 

The first to approach her was a dashing man in the uniform of the Fatui Imperial Air Fleet. He had on a sky blue uniform with golden epaulets, and the blue tasseled spear insignia of a First Rank Captain. He was handsome, with chiseled features and a flashing white smile, along with a Cryo Delusion. He bowed deeply to her, hand to his heart. 

“Captain Mikhail Vostrikov, Highness. Would you care to dance?” 

Kollei looked over the captain’s head, to where Yeleniza stood with her cotary of sycophants, many of them wearing IVST uniforms. The IVST were not a traditional airforce, instead composed almost completely of capes who could fly under their own power. Captain Vostrikov being no exception; Kollei could sense the tamed Demon her Mother had bound to the man that gave him the ability. 

Yes, this man was one of hers. And by dancing with him, Kollei would in turn show favor to the Witch’s faction. That could be a dangerous move; Anatoly and his hangers on from the Fatui who made up the land forces were watching with dark expressions, their own offering, a charming young fatuus in an Army Major’s uniform, only a few steps behind Vostrikov. 

“I am afraid the first dance of the night goes to another,” Kollei said, and extended her hand to another who had approached her. 

The Prince bent over Kollei’s fingers, kissing her signet ring. “I would be honored, Highness.”

The massive Harbinger led Kollei out onto the dance floor, and the band struck up a stately tune. 

Unlike the Thief and the Witch, Ivan Petrov had no faction. He was a man alone, but he truly needed no one else. His grief at the Tsaritsa’s convalescence was well known, as was his tendency to fly into rages that left those who displeased him dead or worse. The few who tried to attach themselves to the Prince were as insane and unstable as he was, or simply the foolish and desperate. Kollei saw a few of them cringing or talking to themselves on the sides, but ignored them. Ivan was not playing palace politics, for he was too mad to manage it. Not to mention he had all the subtleties of the living storm he was. 

After Ivan, Kollei agreed to dance with Yeleniza’s chosen, then Anatoly’s. It was a bit of a coup for the Witch’s faction to get the second dance, but not as much as it would have been to gain the first. Displays of favor from the Imperial Throne were powerful tools in the deadly dealings of the court. So far, the Harbingers hadn’t directly tried to kill one another, but they certainly vied for power and influence. Or at least, most of them did. 

To Kollei’s surprise, Anastasia sent a woman to dance with her. She was a beautiful porcelain doll of a woman, a fatuus named Tatiana Morozova. She was a former Parahuman who had once been a skilled seamstress, even remarking that she had helped design some of Kollei’s clothes. Her powers involved fabric manipulation, and while she wasn’t a frontline fighter, she was being used to mass manufacture uniforms and enhance them to be bullet and cold resistant with her powers. 

What are you playing at, Anastasia? Your faction is small, full of those who have no direct combat potential, but key positions in other areas. Sending a woman…I have no preference, but do you mean to plant a seed in other’s minds?

It seemed so, because Anatoly and Yelaniza quickly selected charming girls from their own followers to dance with Kollei. Amusing. But she wouldn’t grant them a second dance. 

Instead, Kollei beckoned a young girl who flitted about the room, trailed by a few children in similar garb to Jean-Paul and Cherie’s. Some of them had various animal parts on them, from the nose of a dog to the tail of a crocodile, while others were freakishly large or even flying about on the wings of a dragonfly. One, a girl with the armored leathery skin of an armadillo, Kollei recognized. Tara. The Polish orphan Kollei had drawn into a dream to be saved. 

Now, just like Riley, she was trapped in a nightmare. She seemed happy and healthy enough under Pater’s care in the House of the Hearth, but like so many, she had been ‘gifted’ by her new Father. She would be utterly loyal to the Tsaritsa now, or if she wasn’t, a few more months of ‘education’ would ensure she was. 

Riley hastened forward, dressed in a man’s suit white suit, with a red rose on her lapel. She blushed as she took Kollei’s hands, and she was a good head shorter, but when the music began again, Riley easily took the lead, having learned the man’s steps to the dance. 

“How fares the ball?” Kollei asked as they spun about the dance floor. 

“Um, well, Highness. I think? Everyone seems very excited to go off to war…are you certain you do not wish the House of the Hearth to join the war effort?” Riley asked. 

“No. I need you here, with me. Helping Mother,” Kollei said firmly. “You’re the best biotinker alive, Riley. If anyone can wake Mother, it is you.”

“Oh! Um, of course, yes! I just…Jack always…” Riley swallowed, looking sick as she always did when she brought up her former tormentor. 

“I don’t hold you back because I believe you to be weak, Riley. I do it because you’re precious to me. Because I need someone who I know won’t try to manipulate me or stab me in the back to further their own agenda. I need a friend.”

That made Riley blush all over again and bit her lip. She really was so young…they both were, really. It was madness, that two children ruled one of the most powerful nations on Earth, but it was what had to be. Until her Mother awoke, Kollei had to hold together this nation. 

Or else things would go back to how they were before the Tsaritsa came. Death. Crime. Poverty. That was unacceptable. 

She had to be strong. She had to be her Mother’s daughter. 

“You know I never wanted more than a family that loved me, Highness. You have given me that, and for it, I am forever grateful. I will always be your loyal Pater.”

The dance came to an end, and Kollei lightly kissed Riley on both cheeks, something she had not done for her previous dance partners. She could already feel the undercurrents raging. Let them. Riley was used to games of cutthroat survival from her time with the Slaughterhouse Nine. Already she had returned several spies and assassins as grotesque puppets with eyes and ears removed and wagging tongues. While Riley looked like a sweet and innocent girl, she was as cruel and ruthless as any of the others. 

But, she was loyal, and loved Kollei wholeheartedly. And above all, that was what Kollei needed for her Mother and her land to survive. Only for a little while longer. Only until her Mother awakened. Then, everything would be all right. 

After the last dance, Kollei circulated for another half hour, chatting with various courtiers and sycophants. She tried to spend most of her time with the Fatui who would be heading off to war and death. Fatui. It meant “fool,” and Kollei could not think of a more appropriate term. Why could Love not be easier? Why could she simply not live in peace with her neighbors?

Because the end of the world is coming. And you and your people must be strong. Love is not gentle. It is fierce, and deadly. You are Russia, and you must be the Mother Bear, ready to defend her cubs with ferocity. 

But she didn’t feel like a mother bear. She felt like a ravaging wolf, frothing at the mouth and devouring all it saw. 

Just before midnight, Kollei bid the guests farewell and retired from the dance, Jean-Paul and Cherie following at her heels. From the ballroom, they did not head to Kollei’s chambers, but instead to the tallest tower, in the highest room, one that was always encased by ice. Kollei did not feel the chill, even dressed in a summer evening gown. Cherie shivered, ice forming on the fur of her ears, and she rubbed her arms, the thin fabric of her costume not enough to spare her. Her brother was stoic; cold did not bother those born of Cryo. 

Upon reaching the frozen door, Kollei dismissed her guards. Cherie immediately turned to leave, but Jean-Paul shook his head. “I will not abandon you. I will guard the door, Princess.”

Hearing that, Cherie hissed, but took up her position on the other side of the door, nodding to Kollei. “I-I w-will not abandon y-you either, H-Highness.”

Smiling, Kollei stretched out her hand, and from the ice, wove together a warm blanket. Cherie’s eyes widened as Kollei placed it about the cat-girl’s shoulders, but she purred softly, rubbing her cheek against the fabric. Then stiffened. “I-I am a woman…n-not…n-not…”

“You are whatever Pater commands you to be,” Jean-Paul told her. 

Tears froze on Cherie’s cheeks, but she nodded and bobbed a curtsy to Kollei. “You are too kind to this humble servant, Princess. Please, do not let me keep you from your duty. I have mine.”

Kollei stepped into the frozen room, and found an enchanted wonderland. Flowers of delicate crystal blossomed on the floor. A stream flowed under the bed and around the room, only it was made of solid ice. Perfect snowflakes fell, but never grew to overly large mounds. There were even chiming songbirds of living ice, and small rabbits and foxes the size of toys that froliced. 

And there, in the center, laying on a bed of solid Cryo and frozen in a block of the clearest ice, lay her mother. Bronya’s face was reposed, hands folded over a white lily atop her navel. Her dress was that of a regal queen, and she looked as though she would stir and wake at any moment. 

But as Kollei placed her hands upon the ice, she could sense her Mother still slept. That she was as insensate as ever, and from what Kollei could tell, no closer to waking. Closing her eyes, Kollei sat upon a stool that formed itself beneath her and sat. Taking the Gnosis from around her neck, Kollei pushed it through the block of ice, and touched it to her Mother’s pale skin. 

Then, she began to send a steady stream of Cryo energy into her Mother’s body. This was a nightly ritual for Kollei. She found that she needed very little sleep these days. She could sustain herself on Cryo energy alone, her body no longer requiring human things such as rest or mortal food. Sucking on an ice cube gave her as much nutriment as a three-course dinner. 

“What am I becoming, Mother?” Kollei whispered. “My heart is frozen, and my body…it’s changing.”

But Kollei knew the answer. 

She was becoming her Mother.

She was becoming…the Tsaritsa. 

And in the morning, upon her command, the Tsaritsa’s forces crossed the white and blue boundary markers and began their bloody conquest of Finland. 

Author’s Note: 

Well that was depressing. Who’s up for some comedy?