CHAPTER TWO
All the Queen's Men
"Good morning, Your Majesty."
"Good morning, Gerda." Elsa was trying, with modest success, not to let the effects of a short and restless night show in her bearing. She found the effort much easier at the sight of one of the longest-tenured servants of the castle.
Elsa had learned long ago, by cruel necessity, to dress herself in all the finery of her station without help. Perhaps her dresses had been a bit less garish, her hairstyles a bit simpler, but she had managed, and taken some small comfort and pride in that. She had donned a skirt and bodice of royal blue over a grey blouse, colors common in her wardrobe and well-loved ever since she was a girl. As liberating and gorgeous as her ice gown had been, the return of summer to Arendelle made the garment somewhat less practical, and it was quite simply too gaudy for a day at court. It was enough for Elsa to keep her hair in its single loose braid.
In any other situation, a chambermaid of Gerda's standing might have teased at Elsa's hair or brushed at half-seen wrinkles in her dress, but Gerda knew better than to fuss over her queen's appearance. She stood a respectful distance away, and the soft smile of approval that lifted the lines from the older woman's face was enough to lift a weight off of Elsa's shoulders. "You look as beautiful as ever, my queen. Your parents would be so proud of you."
Elsa could think of nothing to say to that. She put on what she hoped was a grateful smile, to mask the flood of feelings such a simple comment elicited. But though she tried her best to hide the reaction, she did not force the feelings away. Her gaze dropped to her hands, the fair skin of her palms uncovered. It was not perfect, but it was better. That was enough for now.
A knock on the door to her chamber brought an end to her reverie. "Enter," she called.
The door opened with a muffled creak, just wide enough to admit another familiar face. "The council awaits you, Queen Elsa."
"Thank you, Kai." With a last deep breath to steady her nerves, she followed the chamberlain down the hall.
He stopped at the massive double doors leading to the council chambers, glancing over his shoulder. At the queen's nod, he threw open the doors, proclaiming, "Queen Elsa of Arendelle!" as he stepped in and to the side. The creak of wooden chairs pushing across the marble floor rang through the high-ceilinged room as those present stood to greet their queen, bowing over the long, polished oaken table that spanned nearly the whole length of the room.
The men surrounding the table returned to their seats, though not before Elsa had taken hers at their head. This particular ceremony was both familiar and well-rehearsed. Though it was her first time to take her place as ruling queen, Elsa had attended the weekly meetings of the council as heir apparent, and even before then she had sat in on occasion as the heir presumptive at her father's side. The meetings with the six-member body had thus accounted for the majority of her human contact for several long, lonely years.
Kai had made his way around the table to the chair furthest to her left. He took his seat next to William, the bishop who had presided over her coronation. To Elsa's immediate left was Lucas, the Mayor of Arendelle, elected by the townspeople to represent her subjects who lived outside the castle walls. To her right was Sebastian, her steward, who had first been appointed to manage the properties and accounts of the crown by her grandfather. To his right was Henrik, the foreign minister, and in the last seat on her right was Mathias, captain of the guard. These half-dozen men comprised Elsa's privy council, and the faces looking to her now were all familiar.
Or they would be, if most of them didn't look quite so guarded. Until a week ago, her seclusion had been a curiosity for Arendelle, debated furiously in private but never openly discussed, especially within the castle walls. Her powers had been a whispered rumor: easy to dismiss, a relic of gossip from the few carefree years of her childhood. She had changed all that, rather spectacularly.
Suddenly Elsa was glad to have foregone the ice gown for an entirely new reason: the peace of her kingdom was tenuous enough without reminding everyone, herself included, of the power she commanded.
It was almost a surprise when someone finally spoke. "We have all eagerly awaited this day, Queen Elsa," the bishop offered into the frosty silence. He favored her with a calm, benign expression, and spoke with the same measured tones that he used from the pulpit of the chapel. "It is good to see you back among your people, and in the seat you were born to hold."
The others took the hint. After a heartbeat and a few cleared throats, Elsa nodded through their chorus of polite greetings with a tremulous smile.
Habit thus reasserted itself, and they began to discuss the practical matters of the kingdom. The foreign minister reported on the progress of farewells for the dignitaries who had attended the coronation. (Elsa tried not to scowl at the thought of Hans and the Duke of Weselton, whose departures had been somewhat more immediate, at her insistence.) The mayor gave them updates on the improving lumber harvest and the delving of a new mine in the eastern foothills. The captain's lack of news was good news, as he was also responsible for preventing crime in the city proper. Kai summarized the recent hirings for the castle staff, which had expanded to service the coronation, and mentioned his hopes for further additions to accommodate the newly-opened gates. The steward countered that with a long-winded discourse on accounts, expenses, and tariffs, which rounded the discussion back to the mayor and his hopes for a reduction in the crown's share of docking fees.
For a good while, Elsa observed the conversations in silence. This, too, was part of the council's habit. She had spent too long trying to restrain her powers in the presence of others to make herself an active participant. From what she could remember, her father had not been very involved, either; the monarch's role had always been mostly ceremonial. However, the distraction provided by focusing on the councilors' debates meant Elsa was far from uninformed about the goings-on of Arendelle, not to mention acquainted with the styles and habits of those who would decide its course. Perhaps moreso than the men at the table gave her credit for.
In the midst of an increasingly strident debate between Kai and Sebastian over whether they needed two new grooms for the stables or just one, Elsa put up a hand for quiet. The chamberlain fell silent at once, and the steward turned to blink owlishly at her through his spectacles.
It was the latter on whom she focused her gaze. "Sebastian, I know how long you've prided yourself on keeping the kingdom's finances in order, but you're pushing back more than usual today. For better or worse, the gates are open again, and Kai is going to need more people."
"Thank you, Your Majesty," said the chamberlain, overcoming his surprise at Elsa's intervention to direct a satisfied smirk in the steward's direction. "The castle has operated with a skeleton staff for more than a decade. It won't do any longer, and you're just going to have to find the coin for it somewhere, Sebastian."
The steward didn't flinch, nor did he return the chamberlain's smug gaze. "My queen, I understand your argument, but I fear you don't understand the whole picture."
One dark eyebrow crept upwards. "Really? Income from the docks has been steady for years, and with the mayor's lumber quotas and the new mine in the eastern foothills, I'd expect duties to increase more than enough to hire the people we need."
That brought the steward, and the rest of the council for that matter, up short. Sebastian gathered himself, taking a long look at the ledger spread out in front of him, a book almost as large as he was. "An astute observation, Your Majesty. And you would be correct if not for recent events pertaining to our trading partners."
Elsa frowned. "Meaning?"
"Shipping income has been steady for years because it has peaked. Without the trade generated by the castle and royal family, we've needed to sell everything abroad to keep up revenue, and the bulk of our goods have been moving through Weselton. As deplorable as his actions were, the duke is a canny businessman."
Elsa bristled. "The man tried to have me killed!" she exclaimed.
"I didn't say your proclamation was wrong, Your Majesty," the steward said reasonably. "And I can happily report that the duke's bottom line will suffer far more than ours under the circumstances. I was merely pointing out the facts at hand."
"I will not reconsider my decision on trade with Weselton," she said through clenched teeth. After several deep breaths, she closed her eyes and sighed. "At least not so long as the current duke is in power."
"A perfectly reasonable position. Unfortunately, Weselton is not the only factor we must account for."
Elsa's fists clenched, safely hidden beneath the table. The skittering of frost as it gathered on the underside of the oaken surface, however, was quickly going to become noticeable if she couldn't reign in her anger. "I see."
"I'm sure you do." The steward waved a hand over the countless pages of tiny, tidy scrawl that enumerated Arendelle's financial pulse. "I daresay you can tell me who has been the largest buyer of the timber and ore our citizens have produced for sale."
Elsa was suddenly too tired to take offense at the steward's patronizing tone. She wearily massaged one throbbing temple. "The Southern Isles."
"Indeed," the steward confirmed. "You'll forgive me if I consider trade prospects with them to be… uncertain."
"The question, then, is what can we do about it?" said the bishop.
"Weselton and the Southern Isles can hardly be our only potential trading partners," the mayor pointed out, looking across the table to the foreign minister.
"Considering recent events, most of our guests have departed on friendly enough terms," Henrik replied. "But profitable trading partners? That will be much more difficult to arrange."
"Also because of me, no doubt," Elsa said, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice. Can I really blame them? Who would want to offer goods to their citizens from the realm of the sorceress queen?
Henrik shrugged. "Yes, Your Majesty. Though not for the reasons you might think. Politics is a blood sport, and even kingdoms we would call friends will look to take advantage of a neophyte ruler and wring out the most favorable terms possible. Hardly insurmountable, but I don't know if we can afford the delay," he concluded, looking to the steward.
Sebastian gave a thoughtful hum, punctuated by the rasp of parchment as he turned through pages in his ledger. "We've been working on thin margins for many years, and the coronation festivities took a large percentage of the treasury to stage. We'll need most of this quarter's tax revenue just to keep the current staff paid in full, nevermind any unexpected expenses. We might need to levy an extra quarter this year to—"
"No," Elsa said, her voice returning to the discussion with a finality that surprised even herself. "This situation is my fault. I will not burden my subjects on account of my mistakes."
"Majesty, we may not have a choice," said Sebastian. "Even on the best terms, I can't guarantee the treasury could bear the expense of our grain purchase for the coming winter."
The coming winter? Surely they haven't forgotten where the last one came from, Elsa thought bleakly. For a moment, her mind wandered to her palace on the north mountain, doubtless still standing untouched upon the forbidding, ever-frozen peak. Maybe I should have just gone back as soon as I lifted the curse. Arendelle certainly couldn't be any worse off, so long as it's safe from me.
"Don't make it a tax, then," Kai suggested. "Be honest with the people, and offer to take in donations."
"The church would happily contribute to such a cause, of course," Bishop William said diplomatically, "though I worry what kind of precedent we would be setting for the queen's reign with such an act."
"Surely we can band together for a few months," said Kai. "Next year might be better."
"You want to bet your life savings on that, or just ours?" Mayor Lucas replied, scowling.
Kai grimaced, looking pointedly at the mayor's finely tailored suit. "Some of us have more to offer than others."
Against the backdrop of rising acrimony, the simple statement struck Elsa with a flash of inspiration. The answer was clear, and it put to rest more questions than just the one of how to feed the people of Arendelle. With one gesture she could atone for all the harm she had done to her kingdom, and clear the path for a better future for everyone. It was a solution so simple and profoundly appropriate that she wondered how she hadn't seen it before.
Elsa could see one problem… but she could hope that Anna would forgive her.
"Gentlemen!" she barked, her voice cutting through a retort from Lucas that was not fit for polite company. The reminder of the queen's presence more than her shout itself seemed to stop the mayor mid-profanity. "It's pointless for us to sit here squabbling over money. We have a source of funds that should provide Minister Henrik more than enough time to reach an agreement to meet our future needs."
This was quite obviously news to the steward. The man stared at her, not even bothering to check his ledger for some unaccounted windfall. "Your Majesty?"
"The treasury may be empty, but that isn't Arendelle's only asset. There are two accounts held in trust which have been accumulating significant value and interest for many years. The larger of these should provide all the money we need, and is at the disposal of the crown. Or to be specific, myself." She folded her hands on the table in front of her, and waited.
Within a single heartbeat, Sebastian had gone paler than the parchment of his ledger, Kai's eyes were wide as saucers, and Minister Henrik looked as though he might faint. Within two, the mayor was leaning back in his chair, visibly speechless, and the captain of the guard – all but silent to this point – was sputtering in disbelief.
On the third heartbeat, Bishop William shot out of his chair, voice raised to a shout that like as not could be heard on the other side of the Atlantic. "Queen Elsa, that is your dowry!"
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*A/N* - I don't imagine anyone clicked into this looking for a thrilling tale of council meetings and trade agreements. Apologies for the dry start, but I am going somewhere far more interesting with this, I promise.
From what we see in the movie, Arendelle doesn't appear to have much in the way of farmland; like most fjords it's ringed by cliffs and mountains. Even a small community would need to import some food, to supplement fish and game.
To give you an idea about Elsa's dowry: when Eleanor of Aquitaine married Henry II, she brought with her what amounted to a third of modern France. Arendelle is a tiny kingdom, but Elsa would almost certainly be the wealthiest person in it, even without her dower trust.
I won't burden the story proper with gibberish about concepts (unless something is plot-relevant) like cognatic primogeniture, but I'll have a few notes like this that you can feel free to read if you're suffering from insomnia. Suffice it to say anyone looking to marry a ruling queen would expect her to bring quite a windfall. The council is so shocked because they view that "giving away" the money could have dire consequences for the kingdom, such as Elsa having to marry into the line of some random foreigner instead of it being the other way around.
