The Scepter of Power and the Hearthside Accord - Script

INT. CABIN - LIVING ROOM - DAY

A sheepskin rug lies before a roaring stone fireplace. A borderland.

GENEVIEVE (10), wearing a tactical vest over a cable-knit sweater, sits cross-legged on the left. Rigid. A copy of 'Meditations' is open on her lap. She does not blink.

On the right, BENJAMIN (10), disheveled and slouching, occupies the eastern flank. He holds a pocketknife.

SCRAPE. SCRAPE. SCRAPE.

Benji whittles a stick. Pale curls of wood fall onto the pristine wool rug.

Genevieve shifts. Her left elbow extends. A hard border.

Benji’s leg sprawls across the invisible line. He doesn't look up.

Thinking hard?

Genevieve turns a page. A sharp SNAP of paper.

About what?

The nature of transient states. Ice. Symbolic power. Fleeting.

Benji blows wood shavings off his blade.

It’s just frozen water, Gen. I’m thinking it’s going to make a great spear.

SCRAPE. Faster now.

Genevieve stares out the window. Hanging from the eave is THE SCEPTER. A three-foot, crystal-clear icicle. Sunlight fractures through it.

INT. KITCHEN - MOMENTS LATER

Genevieve moves in socks. Silent.

She approaches a floorboard near the armchair. She steps wide, flanking it.

She drags a dining chair to the counter. The legs SCREECH against the linoleum.

She freezes.

From the living room: A page turns. Loudly.

Genevieve climbs. She opens the high cupboard. Behind a bag of marshmallows sits the prize: A tin of European Cocoa.

She tucks the tin under her arm. Her eyes land on the marshmallows.

She grabs the bag. CRINKLE.

What was that?

FOOTSTEPS approach. Heavy.

Genevieve drops from the chair. THUD. She sprints for the back door.

EXT. CABIN - CITADEL OF SOLITUDE - CONTINUOUS

A snow fort built against a stone wall. Thick, compacted walls. A parapet.

Genevieve dives inside. She jams the cocoa and marshmallows into a niche behind a copy of Sun Tzu’s 'The Art of War'.

Traitor!

A snowball strikes the outer wall. THUMP.

Genevieve peers through a loophole.

Benji stands in the open field. A pile of snowballs at his feet. He hurls another. It disintegrates against the Citadel's thick walls.

Give it back! That was a shared resource!

Genevieve does not fire back. She reaches into a woodpile inside her fort. She pulls out a TACTICAL ICICLE. One foot long. Sharp.

She rises above the parapet. She holds the icicle aloft, catching the sun.

Benji stops. He lowers his arm. He looks at the tactical icicle. Then he looks up at the Scepter hanging from the porch eave.

A slow, thin smile spreads across his face.

Okay, Gen. New reality.

He drops his snowballs. He turns and walks back into the cabin.

Genevieve lowers her weapon. She watches the empty door.

EXT. CABIN - UTILITY ROOM WINDOW - LATER

Genevieve crawls up a snowdrift. She peers through the frost-rimed glass.

INSIDE:

Three thick wool socks are lined up on the counter.

The sink is filled with water.

Benji dips a sock into the water. He holds it up, dripping. Heavy. He sets it down to freeze.

Genevieve slides down the drift. Her breath comes in white puffs.

EXT. CABIN - PORCH - MOMENTS LATER

Genevieve crouches behind a snow-laden rhododendron bush.

The Scepter hangs five feet away. Thick as a wrist.

The back door CREAKS.

Benji steps out. He carries three frozen, misshapen lumps. Sock-bombs.

He stalks toward the empty Citadel. He winds up, swinging a frozen sock like a flail.

Genevieve breaks cover. She sprints.

Benji turns. His eyes go wide.

Hey!

He throws the sock-bomb. It sails high, missing Genevieve, thudding harmlessly into the snow.

Genevieve scrambles up the porch steps. She grabs the Scepter with both hands.

She pulls. It GROANS.

Benji charges. A roar in his throat.

Genevieve yanks. CRACK.

The Scepter breaks free. Heavy. Perfect.

She spins around, pointing the icicle like a sword.

Benji skids to a halt at the bottom of the steps. He drops the remaining sock-bombs.

It’s over, Benji. I hold the symbol of rule.

Benji stares at the ice. His chest heaves.

A RUMBLE grows in the distance.

Benji looks past her. Genevieve follows his gaze.

A CAR pulls into the driveway. Headlights cut through the dimming light. Tires CRUNCH on gravel.

The engine cuts. Silence.

Benji looks at the car. Then at the Scepter. Then at the tin of cocoa under Genevieve's arm.

Truce.

On what terms?

Common enemy. An eight o’clock bedtime.

He nods at the cocoa.

We tell them we played nice. You make hot chocolate for the negotiators.

Genevieve looks at the Scepter. Then the car.

Agreed. An alliance. For now.

She lowers the icicle.

They stand shoulder-to-shoulder on the porch steps. The car door opens.

Genevieve grips the Scepter tight.