Note: So here's the Star Crossed spin-off. These oneshots will take place either between the the last two chapters of Star Crossed (since there is a sizable gap there) or after the last chapter. I'll mark at the beginning of each chapter telling you where in the timeline it takes place (either "until the engagement" or "after the engagement"). This is the first prompt from a (not so anonymous) anon on tumblr.
3 months until the engagement
Tournaments were archaic. No one had held a serious tournament since the fifteen hundreds and yet every year all of Arendelle and many neighboring kingdoms gathered together to throw on armor and knock each other of horses with sticks to celebrate the Autumn Culture Festival. Originally the festival would be a show of Viking ancestry but the more Arendelle's royal family married into neighboring kingdoms, the more European their heritage became.
Thus, jousting, archery, and sword melee became the highlight of the festival. And now Elsa, like her father before her, had to preside over the tournament. And it was going to be torture.
"You should give it a chance," Anna said.
"I never liked it as a child and I don't appreciate it any more now," Elsa said.
They were at lunch the day before the tournament, outside the castle walls a jousting field had been erected, off to the side was a melee pit, farther down still was an archery range, and beyond that were vendor tents for food and crafts.
"You barely ever went to the tournament as a child," Anna said, taking a sip of tea.
"I could see them from my room, they looked just as pointless from there," Elsa said.
"I think what has you bothered," Anna said, putting down her teacup, "is that a certain prince entered the lists."
Elsa began tapping her fingers on the wood of the table rather violently. Hans entered the lists without telling her, not that he needed her permission and she attempted to use the fact that she was the monarch in question presiding over the tournament and needed to know the entries, however he countered most vehemently that she didn't give a hard time to any other entry. She then informed him that he could sleep in his guest room that night and since he'd not spent a night in her bed once.
"You made him a Knight of Arendelle," Anna said, "There's nothing you can do to stop him—well I mean you can because you're the queen but it would look pretty awkward and he'd get angry and then you'd get angry and nobody wants that and—look it's just one day, let it be."
"Would you let it be if Kristoff entered the lists?" Elsa said sharply.
"He wouldn't enter the lists because he's never fought a day in his life. Hans attended this tournament, I'll remind you, when he was sixteen. He's done it before," Anna said.
"A few tilts eight years ago is little preparation," Elsa said, "In all honesty I'd do away with this whole thing completely. No one has properly jousted since the time of Charles I. And it's all very English anyway, we'd do better to go back to the embracing our local heritage," Elsa said.
"Well, next year you can change it but considering the tournament is tomorrow you're going to have to grin and bear and try not to freeze any of Hans's body parts before then," she said.
Once again that night Hans slept in his room in the guest wing. Both Gerda and Kai had taken notice but chose not to say a word. Elsa would not admit aloud what everyone already knew: she was nervous for Hans. He's fully recovered weeks ago from his surgery after the debacle at the gallows but she imagined all the ways she would watch him knocked from his horse or worse. People died in tournaments before, wayward splinters from broken lances or perhaps an unfortunate angle on a fall from a horse. She was petrified of the idea that she might watch him get seriously injured tomorrow.
So, she stayed mad at him all night and into the next morning.
There was a variable thrown into all of this that Elsa should have seen coming but completely forgot about in the wake of her arguments with Hans. And that variable was Elsa's longtime suitors. They took advantage of any ball or festival Arendelle threw in order to get as close as possible to Elsa and even Anna when Elsa was inaccessible. And she should have guessed today would be no different.
"Your Majesty," said a very familiar voice.
Prince Gustaf of Sweden had attempted at Elsa's hand since they were twelve. They'd met a few times, talked for half a minute, each time he tried harder and harder to woo her. And with Hans lingering off to the side with the other courtiers, she knew things went from bad to worse.
"Your Highness," she curtsied, hoping he'd leave it at that. But of course not…
"You are more beautiful now as queen," he said, taking her hand and placing a very lingering kiss on it. He quirked an eyebrow at her when he rose back up and she could practically see the steam coming out of Hans ears across the way.
Anna, for her part, made her way casually to Hans and placed a hand on his arm, whispering something to him in attempt to keep him from starting a fistfight in Elsa's throne room.
"I do hope Your Majesty can find time for me once again, I miss our meetings when we were children," he said.
Elsa fought the urge to roll her eyes completely. As children they hardly ever said more than a sentence or two to each other. And Elsa had a sneaking suspicious that the Swedish prince was unaware she was officially being courted by someone else. She stole a glance at her significant other to see him glaring at the back of the prince's head, perhaps hoping the longer he stared the more likely it would be that knifes would simply shoot into his head.
Perfect…
Hans spent the beginning of the morning in the sword melee which Elsa presided over for a time. He moved well with a sword, better than nearly all his opponents until his last match where he was knocked to the ground and forced to yield, earning him second place.
He and the first place winner both removed their helmets and bowed before the queen's podium. His hair was sweaty and mussed all over the place, his face was smudged in places with grime where it was not covered in sweat. She couldn't help but find the sight of him sweaty and in armor quite attractive…but no, she was mad at him. Mad.
A few jousts went through before Hans' first tilt and seeing them did a bit to help Elsa's nerves. Nothing looked particularly too violent today. There had yet to be any unhorsings, plenty of broken lances, but no major injuries.
Then came Hans.
He trotted up to the royal podium and extended his lance. Oh he would…He truly had the audacity to ask for her favor after a week of arguments and cold shoulders. She was very tempted to not oblige him and make him look like a fool but at the same time she wanted Gustaf off of her back and aware that she was, no matter how angry, very much spoken for.
So she stepped forward and tied a handkerchief around the end of his lance and only gave him a polite nod before he trotted off back to his side of the field.
"So…" Kristoff said when Elsa returned to her seat, "You and Hans have never looked more in love before…"
Anna smacked his arm and Elsa stared hard at the field waiting for the flag to go up. And when it did and Hans and his opponent met, she was relieved to see shattered lances but no one unhorsed.
And it continued this way for numerous tilts. Hans made it through three matches unhinged and he was doing well enough to the point where Elsa was actually beginning to root for him. Silently of course. Anna was not so silent."Come on Hans!" Anna called out loudly, forgetting decorum a few times.
"Come on Hans!" Anna yelled a few times.
Then came a very dreadful matchup. Gustaf and Hans, tilting against each other. It would be dramatic if nothing else, if not for the fact that Gustaf was giving Hans vicious death glares before he slipped his helmet over his head. Hans, for his part, was unfazed but looked just as angry when he flipped his face shield down and took hold of his lance.
The crowd itself seemed to be in on the personal drama, those who had seen both Gustaf's show in the throne room and Hans request for the queen's favor, which still clung tight to his lance, dirty and torn as it was, were deathly quiet and the place seemed to be on edge the second the flag went up.
And the two men pounded towards each other. The speed was incredibly fast and both their lances were up quickly. They'd strike each other hard, at the same time but…it was miniscule, and if you blinked you'd miss it, but Elsa saw completely at the last second Gustaf pulled his lance arm back before thrusting it forward…right into Hans' chest.
And Hans went flying.
His lance only bounced off Gustaf as he was unhorsed in a violently flurry of splinters. He hit the ground in a hard crash of metal and the sound of breaking wood as he landed on his lance, cracking it beneath him. He tumbled a bit at the momentum before he finally stopped moving and simply lay on the ground, clutching at his shoulder.
Elsa had stood at some point because when the world returned to normal speed she was on her feet and much of the stadium that was not looking at Hans was looking at her. Anna got to her feet as well and quickly walked over to Elsa, clutching at her arm. Hans continued to groan on the ground, struggling to get his helmet off all the while Gustaf's helmet popped off to a very smug face.
It took every single ounce of her willpower not to run onto the field where he lay. The pages and squires nearby were rushing on the field, gathering around the fallen knight to aid him. His helmet came off to reveal a face locked in a tight grimace and when they lifted him, she saw why.
A sizable piece of wood was lodged into his upper shoulder, incredibly close to where the arrow had once pierced him. Elsa felt her blood curdle and her stomach turn and suddenly Anna was tugging at her arm.
"Elsa, calm down," Anna said, nodding up.
Above them the sun had disappeared and grey clouds had rolled in, the temperature of the area had dropped significantly and a few wayward snowflakes even fell. Elsa took a breath squeezed her hands, banishing the would-be storm.
She marched off in a flurry of staffers jumping to their feet when she passed and people bowing their heads. Anna remained behind with Kristoff to oversee the rest of the precedings.
She walked with a vicious purpose to the infirmary tent. Once inside she wasn't sure what she planned on doing. Yelling, smacking him, ordering Gustaf out of her kingdom and then smacking Hans, telling him "I told you so", many things, mostly childish, came to her mind.
She threw open the tent flaps and stepped in. The physician jumped to his feet.
"Majesty! This is no place to be now," he said.
"What are the prince's injuries?" she asked, ignoring him.
"The puncture did not go as deep as it seemed, the armor was rather good. He did receive a rather sizable blow that caused a diaphragm spasm, which he is still recovering from," the physician explained over the sound of Hans wheezing, "All in all it's not nearly as bad as it could have been."
"Very well, I will attend to him from here," Elsa said and when the physician seemed ready to argue she continued, "You'll remember it was you yourself who trained both my sister and I in first aid to volunteer with wounded soldiers, I can manage this."
The physician looked reluctant but he was not about to continue an argument with her. He exited the room in a bow, leaving Elsa alone with Hans.
"What were you thinking?" she hissed, walking over to his bedside and staking a seat.
"I get knocked off my horse by a bastard with a tipped lance, and you're scolding me?" Hans groaned. Ah, so he did tip the lance after all. She'd deal with that latter.
"I told you not to do this," Elsa said, dipping a cloth into warm water, "It's archaic and barbaric and now this happened," Elsa said.
She very gently placed the rag over the wound and watched him reflexively sit up. Her other hand pressed to his chest and pushed him back down. She then took that hand to his far cheek and turned his face to hers.
"I asked you not to," she said.
"I'm a minor prince courting a queen for God's sake, what kind of man would I be if I didn't enter the tournament?" he mumbled.
"The kind who knows he doesn't have to impress me. The kind of man who knows I'd rather spend hours wrapped in his arms in front of the library fireplace than watch him fight battles or running at other men with sticks on horses," Elsa said, "The kind of man I know you already are."
She removed the rag, now dyed red and submerged in the water again before pressing it to him once more.
"I saw the way he looked at you," Hans said, "All that desire on his face wasn't for your charming personality."
"No one thought it was, I've been dealing with his advances since I was a teenager."
"He was being disrespectful to you," he said, "And he was mocking me."
She rolled her eyes. Men and pride.
"There are other ways to mark your territory," she said, shoving the rag roughly back in the water and leaving it there.
"You're not my territory."
"No? Then what was that show you two just had on the field? It certainly wasn't lance length you were comparing."
He turned as red as she felt upon hearing her remark. She meant it though. It was embarrassing, the entire kingdom had filed out to watch two men fight over her in a very obvious way. And now she would not only have to deal with a pouting Southern prince but also a very angry Swedish dynast, whose support, and trade, she desperately needed for the economy.
"There will always be other men," Elsa said, drying off his wound, "There will always be men who ask to dance with me and I have to say yes, there will always be men who want to dine with me and I have to say yes. They'll kiss my hand, they'll compliment me, maybe they'll even try to whisper things in my ear. And your job is to do absolutely nothing about it."
He was frowning, staring down at his feet. She once again turned his face to hers.
"I chose you, I still choose you and I always will," she whispered. "Please just put your ego aside and let this be enough." And then she kissed him, it was light at first but turned more passionate the more it went on. The tugging on lips and slight nips of teeth increased. She felt his sweaty hair underneath her curling fingers at the base of his neck. She felt his own calloused hands stroking against her scalp. "You are the only one," she whispered against his lips, "Who gets to do that."
She then kissed his forehead and pulled away to retrieve the suture. She watched him wince in pain as she made the first tie through with the needle, pulling his wound closed. Below it, she saw the scar of the arrow, not unlike the one she had herself on her arm. After all those scars and wounds and tears they'd endured that summer he still was waiting for the day she'd run off and leave him.
And perhaps he did have a point, she knew Anna had similar feelings. Elsa, to them, would always be a wildcard and flight risk so they held to her as tightly as they could. She could oblige them that much she supposed, every now and again. But one thing was first certain. She was decidedly done with tournaments.