Frozen: Winter Turns to Spring
For as long as anyone could remember, the Kingdom of Arendelle had been a peaceful place. The last war the nation had experienced was the campaign of King Olaf the Wise to slay an army of wyverns, lithe dragons from the Great North, and free his people from their merciless cruelty. That conflict had led the survivors of the wyverns' tyranny to join and create the nation marked by the crocus flower. And that had been almost eight hundred years ago.
Such were the bitter thoughts of Agnarr, King of Arendelle, as he clutched his daughter Elsa to his chest, pushing his horse to the limits of its speed through the forested foothills of the Dragon's Maw, the chain of mountains that surrounded the capital city of Arendelle and extended through the middle of the nation like the spine of the peninsula.
Even as he scolded himself for his complacency with the supernatural, a lesson his late father had warned him of many times, he tried to keep up an appearance of calm. Agnarr could feel Elsa trembling in his arms, no doubt ready to fall apart with fear for her sister. Therefore, the king tried to keep himself calm, to wordlessly reassure his eldest child. We will fix this, he told himself. We have to.
Agnarr glanced back at his queen, who in turn clutched their youngest daughter Anna. The fear in Iduna's eyes told him that her condition had not changed. Agnarr tried to look at the bright side of this; no change meant that she hadn't gotten worse. The king glanced at the parchment clutched in his hand, a map to their possible saviors, and glanced at the sky to gauge their location by the stars. They were close!
As the king and queen lashed their horses to move faster, they failed to notice a young boy on a sled, pulled by a young reindeer. The boy followed their progress with his gaze before he noticed something else; a trail of frost that had formed in their wake. "Ice?" the boy asked out loud. The king and queen never saw the boy follow on his reindeer.
Only a few minutes later, the king and queen passed through the mists of the site known to some as the Valley of Living Rock. They reined their horses in and dismounted, hoping they hadn't frightened or offended the creatures that lived here.
"Please help!" Agnarr cried out, only a slight waver of desperation in his voice. "My daughter," he pleaded. A handful of moments later, and the small boulders that dotted the stone valley began to roll closer, approaching the royals. Agnarr pulled Elsa close to him and her mother, hoping to reassure her. He himself wasn't entirely sure of this plan; the Fae Folk in all their forms could be hard to predict. But it was the only plan they had.
As the small boulders drew nearer, they began to unfurl to reveal strange creatures. Short and stout, with skin of grey stone and wispy hair, their eyes bright with intelligence. The creatures were dressed in clothes of moss and vines, strands of crystals looped around their necks, wrists, and ankles. These were the trolls. "It's the king," one of them said in awe, causing the others to begin whispering to each other.
The trolls parted in the wake of another, this one with a mane of grass-like hair and a cape of moss around his shoulders. The crystals that crossed his body were yellow, rather than blue, green, or pink. According to the book Agnarr's grandfather had written, this was Grand Pabbie, the chieftain and shaman of the trolls.
"Your Majesty," Pabbie greeted formally before taking Elsa's hand in a grip. "Born with the powers, or cursed?" he asked.
"Born," Agnarr answered surely, unwilling to ever associate his little Elsa with a curse. "And they're getting stronger," he added. Pabbie nodded and gestured for Anna, next. Iduna knelt and presented her to the shaman. Pabbie placed his fingers against her forehead, his eyes closed in concentration, before looking at them a mere moment later.
"You were lucky it wasn't her heart," he surmised. "The heart is not so easily changed … but," he shrugged, "the head can be persuaded."
"Do what you must," Agnarr said. Pabbie touched Anna's forehead and waved his hand, showing images from her memories in a field of Northern Lights.
"I recommend we remove all magic, even-" The shaman paused mid-thought. In another life, Pabbie would have removed even memories of magic, leaving only Anna's memories of fun with her older sister. But this was not that time. In this time, Pabbie hesitated as another idea came to mind. Acting on this flash of intuition, he nodded to himself and returned Anna's memories with a weary sigh.
"She will be okay?" he assured with a grandfatherly smile.
"Will she remember anything about this?" Elsa asked. Few knew now, but Elsa was quite bright for her age, and she had seen the troll bring out her sister's memories.
"The memory of the incident will be fuzzy," Pabbie admitted, "but otherwise, she will remember perfectly." Pabbie looked to Elsa. "Now listen to me, Elsa. Your power will only grow." To illustrate, Pabbie began to weave a tapestry of the Skylights, creating an image of a grown Elsa using her powers. "There is beauty in it," he assured, "but also great danger." The images turned red, drawing a gasp from the young princess. "You must learn to control it," he explained, and seized upon his earlier insight to form a plan.
"And I have an idea for how you can do so." The images faded away and Pabbie turned to the royal family. "I would recommend a mentor to help you learn, to understand your powers."
"Can you not, Grand Pabbie?" Iduna asked, her brow knitted in confusion.
"I would not be best suited for this task," Pabbie admitted sheepishly. "I am old and know much, but my kind are too different from humans to effectively teach her. And while all fae kind are … different from humanity, some are closer than others." Pabbie placed a hand to his chin as his idea unfolded into a true plan. A plan centered around a single name.
"Return home, you majesties," he urged. "I will search for a suitable mentor for the princess." Agnarr lifted an eyebrow at that statement.
"Search?" he asked. Pabbie nodded in affirmation.
"I have an idea, but I will need time to contact them. In the meantime, return home and take care of Anna. She will have a headache when she wakes." Agnarr and Iduna looked to each other and nodded, thanking the troll chieftain for his help. Elsa thanked him as well and gave a curtsy, just as her tutors had taught her.
As they left the Valley, escorted by the crowd of trolls, Anna began to stir in Iduna's arms. She cracked her eyes open, her vision returning to focus, and saw a small boy with blond hair being fussed over by a … a troll? As the royals passed, the boy looked up to the family, his gaze locking with Anna's. Even with her headache, Anna smiled to him. The boy smiled back and gave a small wave.
As the royals mounted to their horses and began the journey back to Arendelle, Elsa's thoughts were overrun with questions. What "mentor" would Pabbie be contacting? What kind of magic would they have? And would they be kind or cruel? Elsa hugged herself as she wondered and nuzzled into her father, who rubbed her back to reassure her.
As Pabbie watched the royal family of Arendelle depart, his thoughts turned back to his nominal plan. How on Earth would he convince that particular fae to help this princess? Pabbie shook his head to clear his thoughts. First things first, make contact.
Maleficent, Defender and Former-Queen of the Moors, knew she was dreaming. And, in all, she didn't care. It had been seven years since she had reclaimed her wings with the aide of her goddaughter, seven years since Stephan had been defeated and overthrown (both literally and figuratively).
And even with all of that time, she savored every moment that she could fly, whether awake or asleep.
In her dream, Maleficent laughed, really laughed, as she was knocked aside by a gust of wind. The clouds were dark like pitch, glowing with flashes of lightning. Roars of thunder echoed across the skies, unbuffered by distance. And the winds were scattered and chaotic.
Maleficent was unafraid. Her magic would protect her from lightning and noise. Strikes may hurt, but no too much. Just enough to spur her on. Maleficent was the last of her kind, a species of fae whose name had been long lost. But until she died, her race would remain rulers of the skies. And no storm would change that.
Maleficent grinned and darted forward on a swell, ready to tackle the rage of nature, to prove that she was still queen of the blue and black skies. She braced herself for resistance, for buffeting winds and blinding rain …
And tumbled to the ground in a Changed dream. Maleficent skipped along stony forest floor until she came to a stop, lifting herself with a groan as her bruises and scrapes visibly mended themselves. She flapped her wings and folded them; clearly, whoever had done this wanted her to stay put. And while she was not afraid, anyone who could Change her dreams without her consent was at least worthy of caution.
A faint rumbling drew the fae's attention to a small boulder covered in moss, gently rolling toward her in the shadow of the trees around her. The boulder unfurled to reveal a face she knew not, but a magic that she did. This figure, in his cape of moss and golden gems around his neck, was a figure of wisdom and respect.
The most powerful of troll-shaman. The chieftain of the Northern Trolls, said to be among the most ancient of the fae. Grand Pabbie of the Living Valley.
"Greetings, Defender," Pabbie said, a kind smile on his face. Maleficent narrowed her eyes, a look that would make most creatures, even some of the most powerful fae, tremble in fear. Pabbie remained unaffected.
"Chieftain," she greeted shortly. Maleficent was not pleased at having her dreams invaded, but age meant much in the hierarchy of the Fae Races. And Pabbie's age, if nothing else, earned him at least a minimum of respect. And considering his reputation, it would not be wise to anger him. "Why are you here?"
"I have a favor to ask of you," Pabbie replied. That caught Maleficent's interest. Humans may have … exaggerated the fae's fascination with deals, but every story was grown around a grain of truth. Favors were sacred to the fae, as was their word. For this troll she had never met, no matter how old or powerful, to ask a favor was everything but expected. Not to mention intriguing.
"And what, pray tell, would this 'favor' be?" she asked. Pabbie didn't respond immediately. He simply looked at her, examining her in the way only those with untold experience could. Maleficent began to fidget despite herself under the scrutiny of his gaze.
"The royals that live near the Valley have had an incident involving magic," he explained. Maleficent grit her teeth at the mention of royals, her tensing jaw the only outward sign of her internal struggle. Images of King Henri and Stephan, the most ruthless and cruel of tyrants, warred with her care for Aurora and her husband Philip, two of the most gentle souls she had ever met.
"What incident?" she asked, curiosity piqued even with her turmoil. Hopefully no foolish young fae had heard of her own exploits and decided to curse this family out of mischief or revenge. If so, she would have no part of it.
"The eldest princess of Arendelle, princess Elsa, has been blessed from birth with the magic of winter. Her birth … eight years ago." Had she been awake, Maleficent would still have felt her jaw drop. He was referring to the Winter Alignment, an event that was legendary even among the fae. Once every thousand years, the planets most associated with ice, known to humans as Saturn, Uranus, and Neptune, aligned with the moon in such a way as to warp the very fabric of nature itself. This event, and others like it, would create unpredictable phenomena that were otherwise impossible to reproduce. Things that strained the very limits of magic itself.
"I take it this child's birth was not your 'incident'," she quipped. Pabbie chuckled before adopting a solemn expression.
"Last night, young Elsa was playing with her younger sister. Anna placed herself in danger, her faith in Elsa blinding her of the consequences. In her panic, Elsa struck Anna with her powers. I have repaired the damage to young Anna's mind, but Elsa has been shaken by this event, her faith in her powers broken." Pabbie sighed and wove his fingers.
"I would ask of you your expertise in humanity, to teach this young princess how to control her powers." There it was. The request itself. Maleficent turned her back to Pabbie, her wings drawing further in like a protective embrace while her narrowed eyes darting back and forth as she considered his request.
She had a feeling that Pabbie would have taught the girl himself if he could, but his mentioning of her "experience" implied that he lacked a certain compatibility with humans. The further a fae was from the appearance of a human, the more divergent their thinking became; the very nature of their thoughts was insurmountably different. It was a mark of Pabbie's power and skill that he, a troll, could manipulate human memories as easily as his own.
If Maleficent agreed, she would have a chance to learn. Knowledge was as valuable as anything to the fae, like gold and jewels were to humans. And not only would she learn of this Elsa child's unique magic, she would have a legitimate reason to travel. While the so-called "dark" fairy loved the Moors, she had always wanted to see other places. And she could teach, something she had always wanted to try her hand at.
But if she left, she would see very little of her goddaughter. Aurora was strong and capable, wise far beyond her years and well-liked by her people and the surrounding nations. But Maleficent was the Moors' Defender; it was her responsibility to protect them. Not to mention Maleficent would likely be gone for some time; she would miss many formative years of Aurora and Phillip's young daughter, Briar Rose.
Maleficent turned to address the troll shaman. "When do you need an answer?" she asked. Pabbie smiled kindly, pleased at her answer. While it wasn't confirmation, it wasn't an outright "no".
"Within the week would be more than sufficient," he answered. With that, Pabbie bowed, impressively low for his small stature. "Until we meet again, young Defender." With that, Pabbie crumbled into gravel, which faded into mist.
Maleficent gasped as she awoke, just as the dawn began breaking over the horizon. She swallowed thickly and sat up in her hammock, strung between the branches of her childhood home, her tree overhanging the cliff. The fae rolled from her perch and fell into the open air, spreading her wings to level off her descent.
Maleficent cracked a faint grin at the distant cry of a raven from her servant-turned-companion Diaval, as he gave chase. Her grin faded as she focused on her journey to the distant castle of her godchild. The dark fairy needed wisdom, and Aurora, despite her tender age of twenty-three (as humans measured time), was just the person to speak to.
Aurora, Queen of the Moors and the Kingdom of Soleil for seven years, giggled as she watched Briar Rose tumble through the wildflowers of the castle estate, a beautifully-wrought wooden staff in her hand. Rose had turned three less than a month ago and the staff was Maleficent's gift to the girl, a rod of magically-shaped red rowan capped with a spiral. For the last week, Rose hadn't let it out of her sight as she imitated her god-grandmother.
As if summoned by her train of thought, a shadow swooped over the fields, revealing Maleficent herself. The dark fae (Aurora truly wished that title would fade away, even as she admitted that it wasn't unearned) elegantly shook herself as she folded her wings, removing a twig from her cuff that grew into her own oaken staff in a haze of golden light.
Aurora laughed and rushed to grip her godmother in a hug, which was reservedly returned. Bell-like laughter heralded Rose's arrival as she crashed into Maleficent's shins, babbling about "Mally". Maleficent couldn't help the wide smile that graced her features, reminded as she always was of Aurora at that age. Even if she hadn't admitted it to herself then, she had deeply believed that Aurora had been a lovely child.
"Aurora," Maleficent said, her tone decidedly somber, "can we talk?" Aurora blinked at her godmother's request, but nodded. Maleficent snapped her fingers, turning the arriving Diaval into his human form. The bird-turned-man tumbled the last few feet to the ground with a thud, lifting himself up to pout at his former mistress. A pout that was rapidly changed to laugh as Briar Rose was distracted by "Birdy" and the two began playing.
After the pair had moved some distance away, Aurora turned a concerned look upon her fairy godmother. "Maleficent, is something wrong?" She had a feeling something was, but she had always felt it was always polite to ask before delving into it. Maleficent clicked a nail on her staff as she thought over how best to explain.
"An ancient fae from far to the north contacted me last night," she began. "He asked for my aid in teaching a young princess born with powerful magic." Aurora's brows shot up in surprise before she grinned.
"That's-" her smiled faded as she realized something. "You don't want to go?"
"What I desire is not the problem," Maleficent assured. "You of all people know I have always wanted to do some traveling." Especially after she had reclaimed her wings. The sixteen years without them had been heartrending, but also eye-opening. No one, not even the most powerful of fae, could know what the future held. If she was to travel at all, she would need to do it whenever the chance presented itself.
"Then what is the problem?" Aurora asked kindly.
"I don't want to leave my home unprotected," Maleficent said. "Or my family." Ever since her parents had died, very few had moved into Maleficent's heart. Aurora and Diaval, and then Phillip and finally Briar Rose were, to her, the family she had never had. Aurora smiled with understanding.
"We'll be fine, godmother," she assured. "You need to take some time to yourself. Go and fly the world. And if you can help someone along the way, all the better." Maleficent gave a half-smile at her goddaughter's words. Really, she should have known that Aurora would encourage her.
Maleficent looked to the horizon, her mind turning over the arrangements she would have to make before she left. She would have to strengthen the protective enchantments around the castle, determine and appoint a temporary Defender for her absence, perhaps create more personal protections for Aurora and her family … Maleficent brushed that all aside when Briar Rose tugged on the skirt of her dress, asking for her to "do the magic".
Maleficent grinned and prepared herself to acquiesce. She would make the arrangements later.
Three days later, Maleficent finished the small bag Aurora had provided her for travel. The fae could make most of what she would need, but the queen had been insistent upon giving her hand-sized portraits of the royal family, as well as a few other odds and ends. Including a copy of the royal records pertaining to the nation she was to visit, the mysterious Arendelle.
As she finished, Diaval simply slumped against the trunk of a tree. He, frankly, was not relishing the thought of a country known for its freezing winters. But, he had also recently learned that the country traditionally respected his own species, believing ravens to be symbols of wisdom and guides for the dead. And apparently, the second-born princess was quite young, young enough to play with. In the years he had entertained Aurora as a child, as well as his time with Briar Rose, he had come to enjoy the exhausting task.
Maleficent's approach drew him from his thoughts and he shot her a wry grin as he straightened up. "Ready to meet your charge?" he asked. Maleficent merely rolled her eyes, a flick of her fingers turning him into his true form. The pair took of and angled north.
Arendelle, the land of the crocus, was waiting.
Hello readers! Got another new story set up. Many have pointed out the similarities between Frozen and Maleficent, as have I. And I decided to have a little writer's-fun with it. The main focus of this will be Maleficent guiding Elsa to master her powers with no cataclysmic backlash. If you have certain scenes or methods that you want to see, PM me. I'm NOT PROMISING that it will show up, but inspiration can come from anywhere.
For those curious about the name: it comes from a line from the "Brother Bear" trailer. In this case, "turning to" refers to "turning for help". And "spring" can mean either Maleficent (whose magic revolves heavily around plant-life) or Anna (who will not be separated from her sister here). Or maybe both. Take your pick on that.
*The reference to "Olaf the Wise" is inspired by the famed Olaf II of Norway, a king of Norway on the precipice of the 10th and 11th centuries. He was the first Christian king of Norway and was later canonized as a Catholic saint, St. Olaf. ***In this, he's the first member of Elsa and Anna's family line and the in-universe inspiration for Olaf the snowman's name.
Hope you all like this! More to come!