Disclaimer: I Own Nothing.

The first time I tried it, I got my ass kicked pretty badly. It was fucking pathetic, actually, and I had just about given my butler, Olaf, a heart attack. He'd asked if I needed to be taken to a hospital but at my immediate refusal, he simply rolled his eyes and pushed me back out the door to wait in the guest house for our family physician, lest he let me hobble inside and cause an uproar from my visiting aunt, uncle, and cousin.

"That would explain all the push-ups you've been doing." He quirked an amused dark eyebrow at my abused body. "But you do realise, Lady Arendelle, that fighting without technique is like a dope trying to make love to a door handle."

"Shut the hell up, I didn't start it." I snapped, just narrowly snorting at his weird annalogy. Such sexual innuendo.

"Yes and you sure as hell didn't finish it." He shot back but before I come up with my own snide remark, he went to open the door. In stepped an old friend, carrying his bag of utilities. Pabbie took one look at me and very visibly sighed, like I was nearly the bane of his existence. Maybe I was, but I would never know since the guy was as secretive as the waters that held the Lochness Monster.

"I won't ask." He muttered and instantly ordered me to take my shirt off so he could tend to the cuts and bruises that flourished all over my torso.

"Fuck off, Olaf." I growled at the smirking butler. "Make yourself useful and get me some hot chocolate."

"Hot chocolate and a number for a personal trainer. You are excellent with your weapon knowledge and dead-on sniper eye, Miss Anna, but you cannot fight. I know a guy and I'm sure your parents' ghosts would have my head if you showed up to the doorstep dead as well. So hand-to-hand combat might very well be just what you need." He excused himself and I tossed a box of band-aids directly at his head.

Fuck- fucking bigot. Stupid- "goddam it, Pabbie! could you be a little more gentle?!" I twitched horribly as said man dabbed at the gash on my cheek with peroxide. Damned pussies had a knife and a poor aim.

"Such a mouth for someone so young." He chided, deliberately pushing on my cheek and I hissed, holding in whatever distasteful words decided to tumble out of my mouth in fear he'd lecture me about the proper ways I should act. "I do hope you're still in school, Anna. You have an... interesting way of speaking with Olaf and vise-versa, that cannot be a healthy combination if he reciprocates and acts thusly to those actions." He didn't say, but I gathered that he was speaking more directly about our earlier exchange. Personal trainer my ass... damned bastard.

"Who I associate with is none of your business." That's a lie. He has every right to know. "And no, I am not in school at the moment. I'll be transferring to the States next week." A shadow flashed in the corner of my eye so I lowered my voice and switched to my native tongue. "Hence my cousin hovering about, trying to pry answers from Olaf as to what happened to me." She was an impatient, curious pup.

"Why the change of language? Since you'll be in the States shouldn't you be practing more English?" He spoke Norwegian too, casting an odd look at me but I only yawned in slight boredom, being thirteen and all. Once he finished with my cheek he moved on to the angry cut on my side.

"I speak fine English. Not to mention a few other languages." I grinned haughtily, switching to French instead. "I'm not an idiot, you know." Back to English so I could humor him.

He wasn't having it and as if to spite me for it, the pain Pabbie inflicted on me next from that damned alcohol covered cloth stung like a deliberate bitch!

I honestly hadn't planned on it. Then again, the bastards probably didn't even realize they were going to rob that store either. Rest assured, I won't try again unless I have my own knife. Like an idiot, I forgot it, but since when did one need protection to go on a run? Either way, they didn't hesitate to hand my ass back to me in tatters, though I was fortunate that none of my limbs had been broken. But the feeling The damned feeling of adrenaline coursing through my veins, standing up for a crime that wouldn't have been questioned unless someone else stepped in.

It was thrilling! I may have been beaten like a dusty rug, but for the first time in forever, I felt alive once more and I wanted so badly to feel it again.

"Will Olaf accompany you to the States? What State are you moving to? Surely this is something Emmet and Melena hadn't planned." Pabbie wondered out loud.

"They didn't plan it." I started in Norwegian once more, unsure if my cousin was still out there or not. "Uncle Stephen and Aunt Dianna simply came and requested that I live with them. Something about not letting me live at this big estate alone. And Olaf will stay behind to upkeep said estate and handle the business affairs until I'm ready to."

"Will you be ready to? Because if these hideous wounds are anything to go by than I would believe that you are either picking random fights or you just stuck your nose in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Or maybe I was trying to-" A stupid grin split my face but was wiped immediately off when he started on another cut. I'm only thirteen damn it!

"Hm?" His old eyes focused as he continuously patched me up.

"Fight for Justice?" I mused because the term felt right. I had been able to turn them in anyway and it was exhilarating. "It's always been a fantasy of mine, you know-"

"Why yes, I recall you running around with your mother's only red dress caped around your neck, proclaiming you were The Cardinal and jumping off what ever highest point you saw fit. Even the stables." Olaf appeared with a giant mug of hot chocolate in his white gloved hands. "Honestly, I'm positive that you also would have sent them to an early grave. Your father nearly keeled over when that last stunt had your leg in a cast for a few months." He chuckled good naturedly, patting me on the head.

"I was eight and overdosed on cartoons." I muttered, feeling my blood run cold. That number haunted me, but like hell I'd appear weak in the eyes of these two. Or to anyone in fact. I may have been thirteen but I lost my parents to some cold-hearted son of a bitch a mere five years ago. Something like that never went away (I would learn) and it just so happened to change the way a person thought.

At the time, I'd only entertained the idea with fond memories of that dress aforementioned. Mother didn't like the color red, even though, like me, she was a redhead. She said the color associated very closely with blood and blood loss lead to death. Macabre much? Either way, she eventually bought one and it rendered Father speechless. Me too and he was quite furious that I had snuck it out to do just what Olaf had mentioned. Mother didn't mind whatsoever.

To me, red was strength. It was the color my father's face turned when he had absolute power over us and we had to do as he said. When he got after me for attempting something stupid. It was confidence, determined, an alarming color, everything in one passionate energy and lastly, the only color I saw after my parents had been murdered right before my eyes...

"The Cardinal, hm?" I suddenly grinned at Olaf as he gave me the steaming cup and stealthily slid a card under my fingers as well.

"When you get settled there, call this number. Gaston will see to it that you learn all you need to know about hand-to-hand combat, my little bird." He whispered in German. It was a language we both knew Pabbie didn't speak and I hardly felt the rest of the treatment for my belly burned with anticipation...or was that the hot chocolate?

A/N: I've been out of sorts lately, though my constant drawings of this particular one had me desperately wanting to start it already...this is not one of my ideas, I'm- doing my best- to fulfill a request (You know who you are) but reviews are always appreciated. Thank you, you all rock and we'll also see how this one goes ^^ Tootles~