Chapter 2: The Lavender Rose

Elsa hadn't been lying to Hans when she said she was looking over her father's will. It was a task she had put off for far enough. The candelabra burned overhead s she studied the parchment, a quill in one hand. Ink was dripping like black tears onto the wood, but she was too fixated on the report to pay it any heed. She was crossing out the names of various ships that she knew had been lost, be they sunken in ships or stolen by pirates or any sort of bad luck that seemed to come to sea vessels. Some hadn't even been heard of since her father's burials. She refused to cry, not whle looking over such an important paper. If there were any ships left, there could still be some money for her to live on. She wouldn't have to leave Krokus and become a recluse in the mountains. At the mercy of some strange ogre or bear-creature like the storyteller said

She lowered her pen. Why did she keep thinking about that story? And that storyteller in the village today? She shook her head. It was just childish wishing. Like saying someone could be awakened from a kiss from eternal slumber. She circled the name Moon Tear, which was the last known ship she had heard of. If she was still afloat, Moon Tear would be heading south, dropping off goods. She wrinkled her nose, not wanting to think of Hans being in the harbor at the time of the ship's arrival.

"Your father's gloves would never make a profit in the South," he had said to her snidely one day, when she had been kind enough to provide him an answer to her life. Elsa said nothing, but bit back a quip if women in the south even demanded the gloves.

She circled another ship name, and another. With him gone, she was now Queen of the Glove Empire. Even now, she still saw trunks filled to the brim with rows of satin gloves. Well, not for long. The will states specifically that unless Elsa chose not to take the mantle of the merchanting business, he could trade it off to a family friend.

After signing the will with her approval, Elsa search for a blank parchment. She had to write to this family friend. For her, going out in the world of being a merchant meant leaving the sanctuary of her private book nooks, of mornings in the plaza with Anna.

She glanced to the dressmaker's dummy sitting to one side. Cobwebs were staring to form along the stand from days of not being brought out and used. Scraps of green, yellow, and blue fabric were pinned lazily together in a knockoff design that hadn't quite come together. Dress designs had been her true passion. The Last thing she had truly sewn for herself had been the teal and black peasant dress with the simple rosemailing patterns. It was a dress she hadn't worn in a while come to think of it. Thoughts of passing the glove empire's torch along forgotten, Elsa marched to the white armoire. The fabrics and threads were organized by color, literal rainbows of potential. She pulled out a crystal blue brocade and admired it. She could try to sew this into a gown for a princess or a queen. But that would never come to pass. Besides, the blue reminded her of the satin her father loved to pick for her gloves. And how he made her model them for clients. The fabric had been smooth, soft and elegant, but it also made her hands sweat and itch. Frowning, Elsa folded the fabric and closed the door, sitting back at the desk to complete her paperwork and sign off the will, this time smirking as she signed off giving the glove industry to her father's partner.

"You gave the glove merchant status to who now?" Anna exclaimed the next day. They were strolling through the marketplace, which was busier with fall harvest. Vendors were heckling customers or shoving samples under the noses of passerby, ranging from spiced apples to a sort of an orange mash concocted of pumpkins.

"Anna, I don't want to be known all my life as the glove lady," Elsa held up a hand. "Besides, the Fitzherberts were good friends of my father. The business is better in their hands."

Anna smiled. 'Speaking of gloves, after Hans came over to help with Sven," she lowered her voice in a whisper, "he still won't shut up about you by the way." Jealousy was coated on every word she said.

Elsa raised her hands up. "Anna, by all means, go and pursue him. I'm not interested in Hans, the self-proclaimed horse whisperer of the South."

"Well I'm glad you think so…"

Speak of the devil. Hans swooped around to catch Anna, who had gotten herself tangled along a stack of crates and casually caught her in one arm. Elsa pointedly ignored him, looking only at her friend. Anna's freckled face was bright red, clashing with her natural red hair. Anna was wincing as she massaged her heel while both Hans and Elsa snickered; probably the one thing she would share in common with him was finding Anna's clumsy ways funny.

"Are you okay?" Elsa asked amid giggles.

"I'm…I'm fine!" Anna said hastily, still in the arms of the town hero.

Hans flashed a toothy grin at Anna, looping his arm off of her. The kind of smile that was teasing but had the slightest trace of malice in it. 'So, Elsa," he directed his attention to the blonde, with that same smile, "you decided not to pursue the family business I hear?"

"No. There are…other things I want to do besides count gloves."

Hans leaned closer. "Oh? And what might those things be?"

Elsa looked back to the mountain. Again. Something was up there, but she could not put her finger on what it exactly was. Was she looking for that crystal castle that housed a monster made from darkness? That was a fool's errand. Besides, even if she did believe it, talking Anna into going with her on a chase for a fictional beast was hopeless. She had heard tales of men who supposedly hunted dragons for a living. If there was a beast in the crystal palace, it was probably some bear that foraged the area for food. Yet every time she stared at the face of the fjord, or the very peaks of the mountains with the clouds hiding the tips, she kept wanting to scale the heights, away from what everyone wanted to be; the demure ice princess.

"Elsa?"

Hans' voice snapped her out of her daydream. She shook her head, shaking away thoughts of mountains and shadow monsters. "Oh. Sorry. Lost in thought. What were you saying?"

Hans cleared his throat. "Anna was telling me of her going to meet her family in the next village over. And I was wondering if, mayhaps, you needed a place to stay. Your father's manor seems so cold and dark. A change of scenery might snap you out of mourning…"

Elsa stiffened. In any other circumstance, she would have said yes to staying with someone that she knew taking her in. Yet this was Hans. The man had been pursuing her despite being told no over and over again, or not even taking the hints that Elsa wanted nothing to do with him. Being in the same house, let alone the same room, filled her with dread. It was a trap if she ever detected one. He'd pawn her off as his girlfriend or fiancé or whatever to impress the town.

"That's very kind of you," she said softly, "but I'm much more comfortable in the home my father built."

The light in Hans' eyes dimmed slightly. Even the edge of his smile drooped just the tiniest bit. Yet besides those changes, he didn't seem at all phased by the blunt refusal Elsa had given him. He cleared his throat. "Very well. But the offer will still stand if you get lonesome." Before he left, he produced two bouquets in a wizardlike fashion before bowing to the waist and disappearing into the crowds.

Anna was burying her nose in the bright yellow nosegay. Fitting for her sunny personality. Elsa looked long and hard at the selection he gave her. These flowers were pink lilies. She cringed. These were usually given by men who were looking for something beyond friendship. The perfume was lovely, the message was not.

As Elsa was tucking her lilies into a bush, Anna set her flowers aside. "So, Elsa, listen. I really am going up to the next to village my parents. And I know you like when I always brought you gifts. Is there anything in particular you want me to pick up for you? And don't say jewelry or dresses."

Elsa laughed. Anna's gifts ranged from kooky to sentimental. One year she had brought a pair of gloves resembling dragon feet. The year before, she had presented Elsa with a pendant depicting a mermaid resting on a pearl.

"Anna, this might sound strange, but…I want to start planting roses in my father's garden." The beds had been bare for the past few years. She remembered seeing the thorny sprouts a long time ago, but fierce winters had killed the hearty shrubs. In its place was a naked patch of dirt. Elsa had a black thumb, but maybe, just maybe, she could make roses bloom from a cutting. "Sort of a memorial for him, you know. That and loathe for me to say it, Hans is right. The house is bland without flowers."

Anna pursed her lips. "Roses? I think I might find something to help you get started. Give me a week."

A week turned into two, then three. The trip to the next village usually took one week at most. By the middle of the fourth week, Elsa's nerves got the better of her. Sitting and reading every book would not be what Anna wanted her to do. She threw on her purple cloak and stepped outside into the blowing fall wind. Yet even the harsh wind didn't keep people away from the village square.

As she entered the center of town, she saw a cartel selling fresh hot cider. Counting her wages made from a side business she started in the weeks of simple repairs, she had enough to purchase at least a glass. Her eyes glossed over. Anna would have enjoyed this. Sipping cider in the chill as everyone milled about, busy as could be.

"Ah, the spider has emerged from the web," Hans beamed.

"Hello, Hans." Elsa avoided looking at him, buying the cider and stepping away.

Despite making valuable time, he was back at her side. "I was wondering when you would get to needlework. I must say, the designs on the cloaks being worn now are stunning." He gestured to a group of people wearing the flower embroidered wool. "It's a good sign of a hardworking woman."

Elsa held up a hand. "I know what you're going to say, Hans. A hardworking woman makes a wonderful wife, and more importantly a beautiful mother." She sighed. "Hans. I have said this in every way I know how, but it's clear dancing around the issue isn't helping. So, I'll be frank; I don't want to marry you."

But before Hans could interject, people cried out and hooved rattled the streets. Snorts and brays echoed as Sven came charging in. Sven. That meant Anna was back! Enthused, Elsa charged towards the noise of the reindeer. But as she approached, she frowned. Sven was alone. He had saddlebags filled with goods, but there was no rider. Elsa stepped forward with Hans in tow. Sven calmed at the sight of his owner's friend. The braying quieted and he leaned a head to her to pet.

"Sven, where's Anna?" Elsa asked calmly.

That was when she saw it tucked in the folds of Sven's harness. When Elsa had asked Anna for a rose, she had expecting the blossom to be red or pink or white. This rose was a color she never thought existed. The half-blown flower was tipped pink at the edges with towards the center, where the petals caressed and folded into elegant layers, the hue was a soft purple.

"Where did she get this?" she asked. The broken stem was twirled in her hands. It had lasted perhaps a few days, still fresh. Even its perfume hadn't faded. Elsa grabbed a small napkin and dunked it in the town's fountain, wrapping the rose like it was a leg in need of splinting, and tucking it into the lapel of her black and teal dress.

Sven cantered to the side, showing his saddled back to her. Hiking up her skirts, Elsa mounted the reindeer. Her eyes flitted to the mountain. Anna must have been on her way back but was held up. She looked back at the rose and sniffed it again. Somehow Anna kept her word and got the rose to her. Now she was in trouble. The guilt slid down Elsa's heart in chilly trickles. Thanks to her, her friend was stuck. She had to set things right.

"Take me to Anna."

With that half whispered command, Sven charged out of the village square and up the main road. The road that side wound into the mountains, replacing steepled roofs with high stone peaks.