Long ago, in the very beginning of the Winter Kingdom, the king and queen had created a competition of storytelling. To their ally with the best story would go some of the greatest rewards. Some would gain land, while others would become a member of the court, cementing their people's position in the kingdom. To say the least, it was a great honor with more boons than problems. Something which had every kingdom and clan within the alliance scouring through their land for the best and brightest storytellers.

But, the young bowwoman was a very different participant in this competition. She was not like the others, who had been chosen by her leader. No, she had been chosen by King Balthazar himself. A rather strange request when her people were one of the newest among the alliance.

"I would have thought he'd forgotten me by now." Ivar had mused as she walked through the deep snow. The young Archer of the Forrest Clan seeming not at all bothered by the snow, nor the intense cold. Her only true protection from the elements being the olive-colored cloak which kept the soft snow from soaking her clothing or possibly rusting her breastplate. "Then again... It was only because of me saving his life that I won us a spot among the alliance... Gods, it feels like that was ages ago."

The voices of a couple of men caused the young woman to move her gaze to the two figures. Both of them had been laughing at something, speaking so joyously that one would have mistaken them for a couple of drunk guardsman. However, by the fact that their speech was clear and unslurred, it was obvious that they were not.

The two stopped abruptly as they stopped before the Archer. One seemingly surprised by the woman who stood before him and his comrade. His eyes wide as he gaped at the woman. On the other hand, his friend simply glared and scowled at her. "What're you doing here, Forrest? We don't need you forest-dwellers sneaking around the castle."

The young archer snarled at the man's tone. She and her people were not some rats who crawled up from the sewers, they were simple men and women who had come from another land. "I'm not here to cause trouble," she spoke, walking through the two men with ease. The breastplate hidden underneath her cloak knocked against the rude man's own non-armored shoulder. "Your king has invited me as a guest."

The men kept close to the young woman, the rude one crossed his arms as he glowered at the back of the woman's head. The other walked at her side, his surprised look upon the male's features replaced with nothing more than a calm composure. His head held high and his eyes stared forward. It was something that caused the archer to zero in on the male.

The dark hair, bright blue eyes, that slight pride... "I see the Nobel brothers of the king march among the kingdom's army. What a change," The man at her side stiffened like a board, causing the woman to smile. A laugh escaped her lips as the other grabbed her by the arm, spinning her around. His hand clenched into a fist, poised to strike the woman.

"Robert, enough. She is a friend of my brother and not to be harmed." The guardsman backed off at the noble's words, that heated glare and scowl still present on his face. On the other hand, the nobel sighed as he shook his head at the two. "Let us not fight, we are to bring her to the palace at once."

...

The moment that they arrived at the palace the woman marveled at the spectacular view before her. It was nothing like the forest. A sigh left her lips as Robert left their little group and she was led through the many halls by the king's brother. The man didn't bother to speak a word as he guided her. "So, which brother are you?"

"Caspian... The youngest." It made sense why he would be one of the guards. He was the youngest brother of more than twelve children. Eight of which were males. He would likely never see himself sitting upon the throne, for it was far more likely that Balthazar or perhaps one of the others would more than likely continue their line.

"I see," she mused as the male gave a small sigh.

Caspian's eyes moved about for any sign of his brother before he finally gave up. It was more than likely that he was busy greeting the other nobles and clansman who walked around. So, it was useless to even try and search for his eldest brother. "I have neglected to ask you of your name,"

"Ivar Froststrike of the Forrest Clan, " The archer spoke as she drew back her hood. A frown came to her features as she looked across the wide array of people present. Most were older men dressed in expensive garb... Even those who seemed to come from the different clans seemed to be well dressed. A small number of women also seemed to mingle among the groups. All of them obviously from the clans rather than any of the kingdoms. Their dresses colored and made to represent their homelands.

And then there was the archer. Her outfit was a dark green tunic, with a breastplate to protect her most important organs, green trousers, leather braces on her arms and a pair of greaves protecting her feet. The attire accompanied by her olive green cloak which protected her from the elements. All and all, she looked completely different in comparison to the many people who had come here. Her uniform placed her as someone who was ready to shoot an arrow through her enemy rather than tell a story.

With time King Balthazar had come to stand at the head of the crowd. His eyes sweept over all who arrived to take part in the royal feast - as guests and storytellers both. A smile present on his face despite the fact that his eyes seemed to reflect another emotion Ivar couldn't seem to place.

"I thank you all for coming to the palace, " Balthazar started off, "I understand that to many this is a high honor to win the storytelling competition. However, I would like to change something specific to the competition."

All that could be heard was from the crowd were fearful murmurs which filled the room. The sound buzzing through Ivar's ears causing her frown to morph into a scowl. These people were so... Noisy.

Balthazar laughed at the people. Coming out more forced than anything, however, Ivar could easily tell the man was not comfortable. Then again he hadn't been king long. "Please, do not fear. I assure you that one of you will still receive their prize."

The crowd seemed to settle down after that. Balthazar, sighing, as he watched everything slowly settle back down. The young monarch had looked across those amassed at the party until he found two particular people standing not so far away.

His feet instantly took him forward to greet the pair, his half-hearted happiness replaced with the true emotion. It brought memories of him back to Ivar as she remembered their first meeting. Back when she had just saved his life... For a royal, he was quite a strange man.

"I am happy to see that you've joined our gathering Ivar, it's been far too long my friend," Balthazar spoke.

...

The time marched on by as the men and women around Ivar told their tales. Many were tales of the gods, while a few told epic histories of their lands which were embellished with many fantastical elements. It honestly made the girl want to laugh when men who she knew to be frail and sickly in real life were remembered as heroes who were able to single-handedly slaughter a band of savage beasts with their bare hands.

But, then again there were a couple of those... Though many of those men were true heroes who were deserving of such tales, even if they were highly fictionalized.

The time soon came for the final few storytellers, herself included. A small breath left her lips as she attempted to keep her calm. To Ivar, this was much worse than fighting in a war. Her heart lightly pounded in her chest as she steadied her composure. Pushing away everything else the archer readied to tell her story... One which her grandmother had practically drilled into the young woman's mind.

Caspian placed his hand on the woman's shoulder, a small sigh leaving his lips as he gave her a pat on the shoulder. "Don't be so worried," the nobleman spoke, "you'll be alright."

The final storyteller got down from her spot on the stage. Ivar stepped up, slightly gulping as she looked across the many men and women who stared up to her expectantly. Murmurs broke out among the people once more as they took in her appearance.

"M'lady... You may begin." Ivar heard one of the servants speak as they noticed her staring at all the people who looked back at her. The spirit of the archer's grandmother seemed to come into existence at the girl's side. Giving the young woman the same smile she always did when the elder woman would encourage her granddaughter to tell a tale by the night's fire.

Clearing her throat as her grandmother always did before telling her own stories, Ivar stared into the center of the crowd at no one in particular. "Our story begins during a time of endless frost...."