Ice Realm Adventures

Chapter 1: King Kori Questions Why His Son Is Kneeling To A Polar Bear

"My son, are you kneeling to your riding beast?" King Kori questioned as he walked out of the Ice Palace, flanked as always by his elite guards.

Ikor looked up from where he was doing precisely that, faintly frowning. "Cryos is not a mere beast, Father. She is a proud and intelligent creature that is due my utmost respect."

"...It is a polar bear, Prince Ikor," King Kori told him flatly after another glance to confirm that it was, indeed, a polar bear. A giant, armored polar bear, but still. "A prince of the Ice Realm does not kneel to an animal."

Ikor got to his feet with a sigh, patting his bear's head like some of the guards often did with their hunting beasts. He gestured at King Kori and solemnly said, "Cryos, this is my Father. You have yet to be properly introduced. He is king, so you must kneel to him."

King Kori gave his son a bewildered look. Strict as his kingdom's rules were, he had never before expected an animal to follow courtly protocol. Well, except for that troop of artic foxes Fylkir inexplicably decided to train, but that was different. Those were performed tricks, not the actual expectance of respect from a creature that could not comprehend it.

Despite the fact that he hadn't really thought the beast would listen, King Kori found himself feeling somewhat tiffed when it growled in apparent argument. Which was ridiculous, of course — it couldn't understand what had been asked of it, much less offer disagreement.

"No, he can't kneel to you, he's a King," Ikor responded to it seriously, as if it could actually understand, and as if it had the presence of mind to expect someone to kneel to it. Ikor turned to King Kori and moved into the standing bow that royalty were permitted to give him rather than a full kneel. When he had straightened again, he once more addressed his beast. "See, Cryos? Do as I do, and show Father respect."

The bear huffed out a displeased breath that reminded King Kori eerily of his own son, then dipped its head low in an approximation of a bow. King Kori raised both eyebrows in surprise.

"No, I said to kneel–" Ikor groaned, rubbing his temples. "You know what? Close enough." He turned to his father. "Apologies, Father, but as I said, she is a proud creature."

"I can see that," King Kori said slowly, studying his son's beast with a more appraising eye than before. It seemed it possessed a modicum more intelligence than he had assumed. It was magically bound to the Ice Realm, he remembered, so he supposed it only made sense that it would be smarter than most. Icies were the intellectual Tribe, after all.

It was still, however, an animal. It couldn't be that intelligent.

The polar bear pushed its head repeatedly into Ikor's side, bewildering King Kori further. What sort of incomprehensible behavior was this? It couldn't be attacking Ikor, could it?

But Ikor didn't look frightened of it and indeed seemed to understand the reason behind its actions perfectly, as when he scowled and pushed it away, he snapped, "I am not giving you pettings when you refuse to show the King of my people — of our people — proper respect! Go away– no, Cryos– by Trityon, you're worse than Eron!"

The bear finally relented in its onslaught and backed away without issue, loosening something that King Kori hadn't noticed growing tight in his chest. It sat in the snow with a great thud, looking for all the world as if it were sulking.

It wasn't the only one. Ikor turned around with a huff, crossing his arms and staring resolutely away from it. With a huff of its own, the bear turned its head to stare in the opposite direction. King Kori could barely believe his eyes; some of the most overt displays of emotion that weren't disdain he'd seen from his son in years, and it was while having a fight with a polar bear??

The King wasn't entirely sure what to do. Should he encourage them to 'make up'? Should he remind his son that it was an animal and fighting with it was far below his intellectual standard? Should he declare a nod from a beast respectful enough and tell his son that all was okay? Should he take the most ridiculous route of all and actually order the creature to kneel like he would one of his people?

Our people. What was that supposed to mean? That his son really saw his riding animal as an equal? It was bad enough that he was calling a Firey his friend, as much as King Kori was trying to think of Riff as an honored Herald rather than a Fire Tribe boy, but a polar bear? That was just getting ridiculous, and if there was one thing his son never was, it was ridiculous.

Never.

...except when that Windy had climbed on his shoulders to get a better view of something and Ikor had started yelling at him while refusing the help of the guards.

Or when the Rocky had burped most inappropriately at dinner and King Kori had noticed Ikor barely holding back laughter.

Or when he and that blasted Firey had gotten into an hour-long argument that amounted to calling each other 'stupid' with increasingly emphatic voices.

Or when the strange girl who didn't look like she was from any Tribe King Kori knew of and introduced herself as the Guardian had begun telling a confusing story of what she called 'the Tafflu Incident', and Ikor had spent most of the time with his face hidden in his hands in open embarrassment.

King Kori's son was a serious boy, the epitome of Icey dignity. Despite his cousin Fylkir's best attempts to influence him otherwise, he'd never been one for frivolousness or childish behavior.

King Kori remembered the way his son had smiled, bright and pure, as those new friends of his had gathered around him in a hug. And he wondered, distantly, when the last time he himself had hugged Ikor had been. The best he could come up was when he'd patted his son's shoulder right before he left on his quest for the One Tower, both of them equally annoyed at the pointless tradition of searching for something that didn't even exist and both looking forward to his inevitable return.

Did that really count as a hug, though?

After a moment's careful thought, because he was an Icey and that would never change, King Kori put on a smile and stepped towards the polar bear. He held up a hand when his guards tried to follow, halting their advance and leaving them looking at each other in confusion.

"Hello, Cryos," King Kori greeted the beast, trying not to feel ridiculous as he nodded his head respectfully at it. With just a second's hesitation, he reached out and moved his hand through its fur. "Please do ignore my son. He's so stuffy, isn't he?" He chuckled, allowing the bear to nuzzle closer to him and viciously suppressing the desire to get away from it.

This entire situation was undignified, far below him, but he was determined to see it through — determined to show his son something he himself didn't quite understand.

Ikor looked over his shoulder with wide eyes. "Father?" he asked, sounding lost. "What, what are you..?"

King Kori didn't look at his son directly, instead watching him out of the corner of his eye as he deliberately continued to smile and run his hand through the animal's fur. He gave a genuine, startled laugh when it rubbed its head against him without warning. "It– she really is quite friendly, isn't she? Such a good girl."

He had heard some of the guards call their hunting beasts that before, and Fylkir said all sorts of variations of the phrase to his foxes, so he'd deduced it was the proper thing to say to a pet. He'd never had a chance to test the hypothesis before, though; he was pleased to note that it appeared to be holding up, as the beast rumbled at his words in a way that seemed pleased.

Ikor spent a moment looking between the two of them, bear and king. Then he turned fully and approached with a small, hesitant smile, burying his own hands in the creature's fur. "Yes, she is, isn't she?"

King Kori did not like animals. They were mindless, dirty things that were tiresome to control. Dealing with them was far beneath him. And until recently, his son had felt quite the same way. Because his son was a serious, practical boy, not given to childish things.

King Kori watched his son pet a polar bear with a look of pleased contentment he'd never before seen from him, and thought that perhaps it was long past time his child learned to appreciate childish things.

Even if the only way he would was if King Kori did it first.