1: happy new year
It was the quietest night of Kristoff's year.
In the middle of the city's shopping district, within a heated patrol car, he sat in silence, watching - as he always did - the sea of people surge past. No one noticed the little car parked away by the road, nor the man hidden away in it, wrapped up in a dark hat and a little muffler.
That suited him fine. He was never really a party person anyway.
From his vantage point, it was the perfect place to watch the rush of activity in the street and square, something he had soon discovered on his third time, finding that it was the perfect place to turn on the heat and the radio, and buy a cup of coffee to keep himself awake as he ensured the safety of the shoppers in uptown Arendelle.
Same old, same old.
Letting his eyes wander, he latched on to a family of three (father, mother, son) making their way to the centre of the square where a large pit had been set up in the middle of the area. A fire was blazing away in the pit, eating up the tiny flurries of snow that fell within its grasp, in preparation for the city's annual tradition of setting off lanterns to honour the new beginning.
He checked his watch. Five minutes.
A couple walked past his car, giggling as they unfolded a lantern from within their coats. It was a characteristic pink - one of the romance ones, bringing a grin to both faces as they wrote a wish on the side. The unbridled delight on both faces made him soften a little.
It almost made him wish he hadn't offered to patrol.
His radio crackled. An emcee started the official countdown, with sixty seconds left now: I hope everyone has their lanterns. He glanced at the packaged paper on the seat next to him, remembering Bulda's comment as she shoved it into his pocket.
You better not be sulking in your car again, mister! I expect you to be there with everyone else lighting up those lanterns!
He couldn't help but smile. Bulda seemed to have gotten the idea into her head that by joining in the various Arendellian festivities, Kristoff would snag himself a girlfriend, one that she would promptly rope in for family gatherings and (hopefully) nudge them towards marriage. Sweet, but embarrassing, especially with her determination to pair Kristoff up with that 'cute girl who follows you around'.
He didn't have the heart to point that out that the 'cute girl' was his intern, and also barely eighteen.
Twenty seconds left, folks!
The chatter outside grew louder, rising up in a huge wave of noise. Kristoff leaned his head outside the window to catch a glimpse of the lanterns. People in the square held their lanterns gingerly, their bodies tense, ready to throw them up in joyous celebration at the stroke of midnight.
Fifteen seconds!
His police-issued radio suddenly crackled too, competing with the other radio for his attention.
"HQ to Officer Bjorgman."
He scrambled for the receiver in surprise. "Yes, this is Officer Bjorgman."
The countdown had started. As one, the crowd started shouting.
"Officer Bjorgman, report your location."
Ten.
"Carpark at Corgner Square. What is the situation?"
Nine.
"Request for police assistance at Third Avenue." The woman on the other line sounded curt and harried.
Eight.
"Yes, understood. I'll make my way over."
Seven.
He strapped his seatbelt on swiftly, tossing the police radio into the seat next to him, his unopened lantern forgotten. It was probably a routine call, he figured. People tended to fight on the last day of the new year; perhaps they no longer felt the pressure of being good for Santa. He snorted at his own joke.
Six.
A loud bang elicited screams from the gathered people. Startled, Kristoff quickly untangled himself and jumped out of his car.
Five.
A blaze erupted from the top of the Southern Isles building. As he stared in horror and shock, the fire briefly - barely - illuminated something on top of the building, and something else spiralled down, black and charred, falling in front of the crowd with a thud.
Four.
Someone screamed again, and soon it turned into a cacophony as people shoved and ran, away from the fallen object. Kristoff locked the car and dashed into the middle of the chaos, pushing.
Three.
The circle started breaking apart the closer he got to the centre. People jumped away upon seeing his uniform, screaming and pointing him to the object.
"Officer, please!"
"Officer, do something!"
"It's dead!"
Voices muddled his senses. Skidding on a patch of ice, he slid out right in front of the building, a handful of remnant dark flakes falling around him.
Two.
The thing left him bewildered. He heard his heart beating furiously in his ear, his brain trying to keep up with the rush of adrenaline that gripped him. This was - this was -
One.
Happy New Year! The emcee in the TV station screamed in glee, as the large clock in the middle of Corgner Square tolled its obligatory twelve bells loudly.
Kristoff felt frozen.
This was the mayoral candidate.
It was the coldest night of Elsa's year.
On a little street off the city centre, she plodded along silently, her hands stuck deeply in her pockets, and her face tucked underneath the long scarf she had wound around her neck. It was silent in these streets.
She liked the quiet. It was peaceful and lonely, and sometimes when stuck in a melancholy mood, she liked to walk along Forgotten Avenue, tasting the salty breeze of the sea wafting in from Helgen Docks and the sounds of sailors preparing themselves for another long journey.
She liked the sailors too. They talked little, but were content to have some different company, and so she dropped by the docks, hoping to catch a glimpse of the handsome friendly captain with a beautiful wife at home.
The docks were empty, save for a lone man, smoking a cigarette furiously at the edge of the pier. She recognised him.
"Lonely?"
The man turned around in surprise, hands already balled into fists and ready to fire. He relaxed upon seeing her.
"Not really. Just enjoying the breeze."
It was kind of inexplicable how she could sit with strangers in comfortable silence, but something about tonight felt particularly commiserating. Maybe it was the fact that they were two displaced people seeking solitude.
"I didn't see you last week."
The man hummed in agreement, stubbing out his cigarette. Blowing out tiny regular puffs of smoke he turned to contemplate her. His eyes glittered slightly.
"No, I had something to do." He paused for a moment. "How are the children?"
She shrugged, not knowing what to say. They're fine. They're growing up well. Tomas grew two centimeters, and Hilde broke a toe. Petter just came in, been crying every night, and baby Petra - poor baby Petra - would probably never survive to her second birthday.
She settled for a simple answer. "Growing. As expected."
He chuckled at her answer, his voice coming out as a rasp from the smoke inhalation. He lit up another cigarette.
"Quiet night."
She nodded, looking out at the anchored ships. Arendelle was the leading exporter in the world, functioning as a port and a rest stop for ships travelling around the world. She remembered the sailor she'd learned poker from.
The wind howled. "A child went missing today," she suddenly murmured, surprising herself with her initiative. The man looked at her in mirrored surprise.
It might have been the sea breeze, or the way he looked out at the world, but something told her that she wasn't the only one craving human connection. And so she spoke, telling him about the girl - Nini - and how she left to play soccer and never came back. It was probably just a case of being lost, but it had been sixteen hours, and while rowdy, Nini was never defiant, and she never came back beyond her curfew.
The wind lashed at her, and she noticed the expression on his face. It was soft, half hidden by the shadows on his face, his right side illuminated by the lighthouse off the side of the pier.
"I lost a niece, once."
It startled her a little. She smiled, regaining her composure.
"That's a first. I've only ever told you about myself."
He grinned, a hint of playfulness in the curve of his mouth. "Maybe I like hearing about you."
"Hm." She raised an eyebrow, trying to hide the smile on her face. "Tell me more."
He settled down on the pier then, kicking off his shoes and leaning on the railings. Tilting his head at the opposite railing, he crossed his legs and waited for her to sit.
"My niece, she was called Kari, and she had the greenest eyes I ever knew…"
In the loud tolling of Corgner's clock, Elsa couldn't help but feel a little warmth spread. Around her, the falling snowflakes melted, the breeze carrying quiet whispers of new year happy new year.
It was just another night of Anna's year.
At eleven, the office was empty, save for the light emanating from her computer, and the clacking of the printer as it printed the files she needed. By this point, it was difficult to deny Elsa's insistence that she was a workaholic.
But really, coming from Elsa? That was rich. Slumping in her chair bitterly, Anna remembered the brief angry conversation she had with Elsa before stomping out of the house.
"Going out?"
Anna turned around, hand halfway to the door. She straightened sheepishly.
"I - yeah. I mean…"
Elsa looked at her directly, her blue eyes an x-ray scanning her and probing into her thoughts.
"You're meeting Hans again."
She bristled at the tone in Elsa's voice. "Yes, I am."
"It's New Year's Eve."
Was this some hidden code she didn't understand? Brow furrowed, Anna stared at her sister. Elsa seemed to want something from her.
"Okay?"
She waited for Elsa to say something - to ask her, tell her. It was probably blind hope, really, but she waited.
Elsa opened her mouth, conflict shifting in her eyes. For a moment, Anna actually believed that she was going to speak. Then, just like that, she looked away, out of the window, staring at the clock tower with its lighted face, the hands clicking into position at 9.
"Yeah, um - okay. I - well, enjoy yourself."
And this made her angry.
Anna cringed as she recalled the shouting match that had proceeded from that exchange. It wasn't fair at all. Elsa lived her own life, prowling solitary like some regal alley cat, while Anna was like the desperate labrador licking at its owners' heels for any little scrap of attention.
She really despised herself sometimes.
Her phone buzzed, and she sat up reluctantly to look at the message.
where are you? im at corgner square
Right, Hans. She grabbed the papers off the printer, slamming them down in frustration. What exactly was Elsa's problem with Hans anyway? He was gorgeous, charming, funny, and he totally connected with her on an amazing level. They never disagreed.
"Funny. You'd think she'd want her sister to be happy."
She glared at the papers darkly, which wilted. Elsa was probably off gallivanting wherever she was now. Probably that orphanage.
It made her incredibly bitter how Elsa always seemed to have time for these children. Four for you, children, and none for Anna, bye.
She quickly snatched up her phone. She wasn't going to think of this, not now, not on New Year's Eve
last minute assignment, cant make it, sorry
She hesitated on the 'send', remembering the past new year spent in the office. A jolt of decisiveness gripped her.
Who cared what the hell Elsa thought of Hans? Hans liked her, and she liked him, and she didn't really like Elsa at this moment. Anna picked up her bag and stuffed her items in haphazardly. If Elsa didn't want to ask her to spend New Year's Eve together, then she would spend it with other people, damn Elsa and her opinion.
Reaching out to shut down her computer, Anna spared the photo on her table a glance. Her parents were smiling brightly from the picture, with a grumpy looking Elsa and Anna with them. She remembered that particular photoshoot.
Finding herself smiling at the memory, she immediately slapped the photo down on the table.
im going over! soon! asap!
Sending this message to Hans instead, she dashed out towards Corgner Square, a heady feeling of anticipation bubbling up within her. It would be her first time setting off lanterns since her parents' deaths six years ago, and she wasn't about to let anything get in her way.
Absolutely nothing.
It was the last night of Klaus Jensen's life.
It was also a happy night. His campaign was a success, as expected, and the girl he had been chasing after - mooning after, as Jostein would say flatly - for seven years had finally said yes to him. All in all, it was probably the best night in his thirty-two years.
At seven, his assistant had called him, reminding him of his date. At seven-thirty, he finally got out of his office, dodging calls from Duke Weselton on revising their campaign speech again.
At eight, he finally arrived at the Southern Isles building, meeting with his beautiful Lisa, bouquet in hand and charming apology ready. She smiled upon receiving the roses, informing him that she had already reserved seats.
"Table forty-two," the waitress said crisply, leading them to the VIP booth in the restaurant.
Sliding into the seats, he placed an arm around her, sharing a menu. Around them, a few other couples sat, smiling and whispering to one another. He recognised one of the ladies from the opposing party. Locking eyes, they both gave each other a curt nod, before returning to their partners. A smile tugged at his lips as he noticed that her partner was a girl.
"Why are you smiling?"
He looked at Lisa, radiant in her happiness. "Nothing, just happy." He pressed a tiny kiss to her cheek.
The feeling of being relaxed was intoxicating, so much so that it took him fifteen minutes to notice the dark man standing near the toilets. He blinked in surprise to note that the man was staring at him intently.
The man mimed looking at his phone.
Frowning, Klaus glanced at his screen.
come up to the roof if you want to save duke weselton's career
Duke Weselton's career? He wanted to slam his head on the wall behind him. He warned him, he told him to cover up. Now Weselton's career was going to be ruined, and probably ruin his career along with his.
He stood up. Lisa looked at him questioningly.
"Restroom."
At her nod, he moved off quickly. The man had disappeared shortly after he read the message, and Klaus ran after him, out of the restaurant and into the lifts. Pressing the button for the 40th floor, he dashed out as soon as the lift opened, and made for the emergency staircase.
He emerged into the icy winter air of Arendelle. The man was standing at the edge of the roof, sitting on the short wall that was supposed to prevent any accidental falls. Klaus inched forwards.
"Klaus Jensen," the man said gravely, as soon as he was within earshot. "You shouldn't have come."
He was stunned. "Wha - ?"
Before he could form a coherent thought, a large blaze of fire swept across him, eating him up in scorching pain. He opened his mouth to scream, but a second blast covered his face, and there was nothing but pain - just pain, and it was beyond imagination. He stumbled then, hitting the short wall, reigniting the pain as he screamed and screamed again. The man loomed over him, his eyes glowing.
I'm sorry.
Then he was falling, down and down and down, and the last image seared into his mind was of those glowing, glowing red eyes.