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At the core of the glacier was a throne of ice upon a frozen dais, delicate yet commanding... atop which sat a figure draped in flowing robes as pale as the snow. Her garments were soft and flowing and light—better suited for autumn or spring, rather than the deepest core of a glacier. Astrid knew, beyond all doubt, that this creature… was not human.

Not human, not human, how, how, not human—

Stormfly drew back, screeching a warning, as Astrid's keen, analyzing, calculating gaze took in the sight of the woman—a monster in disguise?—at the center of this impossible fortress. The woman—this being—stared back.

Despite the Nadder’s every instinct, Stormfly followed Astrid’s formidable will and took them to the icy floor before the impossible throne. Without letting her nerves overwhelm her, before she had the chance to doubt, Astrid dismounted in a single fluid motion, her axe at the ready; this deep into the glacier’s core, the metal was already showing signs of burgeoning frost.

Although she wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, exactly, she still hadn’t believed that the figure would rise from her throne. The woman lifted herself, her movements graceful yet commanding. Unnatural.

Astrid tightened her grip on her axe, ready to defend.

“You are lost,” said the woman. Her melodious, soft voice carried all throughout the cavern, against and through the reflective ice. All at once, the walls and floor seemed to shimmer with sunrise hues—glimmers of soft pinks, light blues, fresh lilacs. 

Her hair, as white as the frost itself, cascaded down her shoulders, crowned with intricate icicles that sparkled in the dim light. But it was her eyes—cool, piercing blue, as light as the glacial ice itself, and glowing with the same unnatural power—

“I am seeking someone,” Astrid announced loudly, fiercely, with more bravado than she felt. Not human, not human, not human— “A man, riding a black dragon. His trail led me here.”

The woman’s surprise seemed genuine, but Astrid wasn’t ready to trust.

(Who are you! What are you!)

“I’m sorry,” the woman said, with soft confusion, with (feigned?) sympathy. Astrid’s gloved hand, her cold and aching fingers, tightened over the wooden handle of her axe. The air was so cold, Astrid half-wondered if the metal blad might simply shatter at first contact. Stay calm, stay calm, not human, not human—

The woman's expression softened slightly, as if hearing Astrid’s very thoughts. 

“You are safe from me, warrior,” she promised, and Astrid carefully eyed the sympathetic slant of her brows, the reassuring tilt of her smile. Astrid inhaled, unsure, and exhaled, determined. “But you should not be here.”

“I’ll be on my way,” the words left Astrid’s throat before she could piece the puzzle together, “as soon as you explain who… and what… you are.”

The woman’s smile disappeared; the soft line of her mouth flattened into something stiff, her gaze hardening, sharpening. The air seemed colder.  

“You must leave,” said the woman, soft yet unmistakably a command. “Your friend is not here. Leave at once and forget this place. I shall not be here if you return.” 

Thousands of questions begged to spill from Astrid’s lips, but the woman—the queen?—turned her back on her—Astrid’s hackles instinctively raised at the slight, at the offense, at the dismissal—and she glided across the perfect, unmarred ice back to her throne. Astrid stepped forward, compelled into action, as the woman lowered herself on the seat with an unnatural, eerie grace. 

“Please!” Astrid’s face twisted with confusion, with indignation, with annoyance, and—although she’d never dare—perhaps a tiny bit of trepidation. “You may not have sensed him, but I know he’s here. We were—that is—our home is under attack.”

The woman—she must be a Queen, she must have been, she must be—looked on, her eyes widening, as Astrid dared move even closer, approaching the dais. Astrid hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. But there was something in the Queen’s presence—a strange, cold purity of truth that persuaded her to speak. 

Her instincts had never steered her wrong… so far.

“The carnage led us north, where we found destruction all through the frozen lands… There was a sign of struggle, a great battle—we thought… we thought the damage was borne from an Alpha—an Ice King,” she admitted. 

The queen’s smile was faint but genuine—and a little bit sharp.

“I am no Alpha. And I am no King.”

Astrid was in no danger, but its prospect hovered in the air, tingling on her skin, threatening the possibility.

“Please,” Astrid insisted. “I’ll leave you be,” she declared, not knowing if it was a lie. “Tell me what you know of the battle that took place outside these walls—who you faced, and how—so that I can find him. I’ll never return.”

From the way the woman’s brow raised archly, it seemed both of them seemed to sense the mistruth in Astrid’s claim; the Queen’s chin raised, considering; her keen eyes, defiant. Sharp. Astute.

Damn. Only honesty, then. No trickery.

Only honor, and duty, and valor.

“I will tell you what I know,” said the ice Queen. “But you will not like what you hear.”

Astrid swallowed, brow furrowed, and nodded. Her armor was growing frost, and it was starting to sting.

“I am bound to the ice,” she declared, and her expression slipped into something cold, something aloof. “As I have been, for an age… I know nothing of your politics, your land disputes, and I no longer care for anything beyond these walls. But I can confirm that when unwanted visitors encroach upon that which is mine—I shall respond in kind.”

“So… it was you?”

Behind her, the air itself seemed to shimmer, and then crack—like a frozen lake underfoot. 

Astrid’s breath hitched as she watched the very essence of the ice condense, swirling like a storm gathering strength. 

From nothingness, a massive form began to materialize— 

Astrid gasped escaped her, as Stormfly shrieked, as the unnatural surge of power took shape, coalescing into the distinct outline of a dragon.

Its form—its body?—a thing of haunting beauty, shimmering with unnatural, almost ethereal light as it slinked forward. The dragon's head was massive and menacing, its piercing eyes glowing with an intense, cold light. 

Its mouth was filled with sharp, ice-like teeth, lined within a jaw no doubt capable of unleashing a blizzard with a single breath. The ice demon of a dragon let out a piercing, shrieking warning call—to Astrid, to Stormfly, who was furiously cowering and spitting at the stranger’s might, unable to summon flames in so deep a cold—but from its horrible, beautiful maw, the ice dragon spat frost like sparks.

Astrid breathed hard, trying to keep her heartbeat steady as it leered forward, curling itself protectively around the throne and the woman upon it, its mighty claws never once gauged the perfect ice beneath. The beast's wings expanded, curling about the dais, each membrane almost translucent, laced with veins of ice.

Astrid was highly aware of Stormfly’s extreme displeasure, of Stormfly’s fright and distrust, even with her confidence in Astrid’s steady presence.

Look, Stormfly, look, she willed silently to the Nadder behind her, as she stared at the ice dragon's scales—a deep, frigid blue, glistening like frozen crystals in the pale light, rolling from deep indigos to pale lavenders. Don’t you see? Maybe this is what we were looking for—maybe she’s…

The ice around her rippled with power and, Astrid realized, in that moment—

She was the ice.

The ice dragon—is her!

Astrid’s heart raced. Is this—is she—an Alpha, after all? (A new, unknown species? Is she the dragon, or is it a part of her? An extension of her? The power emanating from this Queen and her dragon was unlike anything she had ever encountered. Hiccup! Did you see?

Were you here?

Do you know!)

“What are you? Who are you?” Astrid demanded, breath shaky, awed and alarmed as the ice dragon coiled more fully around the Ice Queen, radiating calm menace—and a deep, deep core of protection. Stormfly growled lowly, still clicking her displeasure, but fell briefly subdued when the veil of danger lessened... despite the ice dragon's dark, eerie presence. 

This is it! Astrid's mind whirled through the possibilities, the calculations. If they could convince her to join them—if Astrid could convince her that they should be allies—

The Queen’s gaze held hers, steady and calm, as she folded her hands delicately atop her lap, resting upon her knees. 

“I was once known as the Snow Queen,” she intoned, her voice steeped in quiet, ancient power, now impossible to ignore. “But those days are lost to time… and you, Dragon Warrior, stand in my domain. If you wish to find your friend, you must listen to the counsel, and the warning, I shall grant you.”

Ignoring her better judgments, yet heeding her instincts—

Astrid did.

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