Chapter 4: The Frozen Festival
Arendelle Castle
Sunrise, the next day
The open courtyard lay in the shadow of Arendelle Castle, enclosed by high walls. The air was cool, the atmosphere fresh with the scent of morning. From the open gates, a narrow spear of sunlight divided the shaded square on both sides.
Soon, the guests began to arrive. Diplomats bedecked in medals and accompanied by a train of attendants. Princes and princesses, adorned with the trappings of royalty, images of sophistication and regality. Foreign visitors, friends or family of the more distinguished guests, mingling freely in the courtyard with the citizens of Arendelle. The odd inquisitive visitor popped in, not at all dressed for the occasion and looking out of place, but welcomed all the same.
And while they clustered according to their region of origin, or according to family, or simply sticking with those they felt comfortable with, no guests had special claim above the rest; royalty stood freely next to common folk, and cabbage sellers struck up conversations with wives of distinguished ambassadors.
Guards ringed the courtyard, standing erect, but their expressions were light and welcoming, their stance easy and relaxed. No weapons were allowed in the palace, but while they scanned the throng of visitors entering the courtyard, none of any sort was seen. The day was one of joy.
While conversation proceeded smoothly as boisterous children chased each other around the courtyard, all eyes were on the balcony. All awaited the one Queen they had come to see.
Behind the closed door to her balcony, Elsa stood in the cool dimness of her room.
This is all too familiar.
She glanced up at the portrait of her late father. Beloved Haakon, former King of Arendelle, frozen in time at the moment of his coronation, holding the emblems of kingship. His expression benevolent, his gaze focused.
Memories rushed back. Memories of a coronation turning into a night of cold and wind. Of freedom, and loss. And then of restoration. And finally those memories return full circle to this very room, where it all began. Back to this very room, in front of her dear father.
What must you think of me?
Elsa placed her hands at the edge of the table under the portrait. The candlestick and jar were still there. Still smeared with the marks of frost.
Be the good girl you always have to be.
She could hear his voice still.
Conceal it. Don't feel it.
Don't let it—
No.
She looked up at the image of her father. And this time, while she perched on the very edge of self-doubt, she heard his voice come through again. Strong and true, no longer the dim echo of her memory, but as clear as the tolling of the chapel bells.
You were afraid of turning into what I feared you would become.
Instead, you have become someone I would have never imagined you grow into.
Free. Confident. A true queen of Arendelle.
'But what if I stumble and fail again?' Elsa whispered. She sat by the table, resting her palms on her chest, trying to quell the pounding of her heart.
Memories arose unbidden. A sea of confused, frightened faces. A sister doubled over in pain and heartache, streaks of white piercing her red hair. The cold cheek of an icy corpse, frozen in suspension.
Elsa blinked back tears. So much fear. Like pitch, clinging to the edges of her mind. Staining the paths she trailed around her room in self-imposed solitary confinement. Like streaks of tar, blistering the otherwise immaculate walls of the ice palace she built in the night she let it go.
As she struggled, she realised that a different, quiet source of strength was welling inside her.
Her father's inner voice was mingled now with another, strange and unfamiliar and yet not so strange, firm, resolute and old, like an aged boulder that had weathered the storm and sea and come through unbowed. A long-forgotten spirit lost to memory.
Pain is inevitable.
Failure is unavoidable.
Fear will always be your enemy.
She bit her lip. But something else welled up within her, like a fire sputtering to life.
Yet courage is found in spite of fear. Success is built from the stones of failure. Growth is the permanent result of temporary pain.
Her fears, inverted.
There is danger in your power. But also great beauty.
The freedom of liberation.
Let it go.
When she looked back up at the portrait, her gaze was resolute and firm. Her heart, while still in turmoil, was set on the path she had chosen.
The last voice of doubt reared its head.
What about my decision to open Arendelle's gates to those like me?
What will this mean? What will Arendelle become as a result of this one, irreversible decision?
But the voice that answered it, the voice that quelled her fear, came not from the memory of her father, or the even more distant memory of an ancient and forgotten voice in the woods. It was her own, spoken voice, ringing loudly in the silence of her room.
'That,' Elsa said, 'is up to me.'
There was a knock on the door.
'Elsa, it's me.' It was Anna.
Elsa opened the door. Anna stood nervously at the door, her hair done up in a bun; her off-the-shoulder dress was verdant green, revealing the gold pendant of Arendelle. She shifted jumpily from one foot to the other, biting her lip, her hands clasping and unclasping. Beneath her regal exterior—or what passed for it—Elsa knew that Anna was perhaps even more nervous than herself.
But that was Anna—quirky, bubbly, excitable, awkward, loving, fiery, and caring all at once. Their love had thawed a frozen heart. And as the two sisters shared a tender gaze, they knew that the same love would quell a heart beating in fear and uncertainty.
'Ready, sis?' Anna asked breathlessly.
Elsa smiled and nodded.
And clad in their coronation attire, bearing centuries of tradition and history, the queen and princess of Arendelle strode confidently towards the doors to the palace balcony.
Hansel loitered comfortably on the roof of the palace courtyard, scanning the crowd below. Behind the shadow of a stave taller than he was, he kept a firm grip on a rusted metal grate for support.
But his feet were planted confidently on the gentle slope of the roof, his stance free of fear. The years spent roving with Veicht had long since scraped off his childhood fear of heights. His cloak and hood, dull grey, melded with the colour and consistency of his surroundings—he was sure that he was not seen.
Not least while they're all looking at one direction. For one person, to be exact. Hansel thought, his eyes moving to the palace balcony. The queen was yet to appear.
His attention was first captured by two figures standing at the front of the crowd. One was a large man, clad in what looked like mountain attire. The other, strangely enough, was a reindeer, sitting calmly with an expression of—rapt attention? Reindeer can do that? Hansel shook his head. Arendelle was queerer than he had expected.
He resumed his scanning of the courtyard. He spotted a few familiar faces—none of which would be pleased to see me, he thought wryly—of nobles and officers from the various Nordic kingdoms. He couldn't recognise most of the royalty—many were obviously princes of leisure, little involved in the nuts and bolts of their kingdoms. Then there was a young lady with short brown hair in a lavender dress, talking excitedly to the man beside her, likely her fiancé or husband.
Hansel squinted. Something seemed very familiar about the man.
Then a collective gasp and murmur came from the crowd, and Hansel turned to the palace balcony. A cheer rang out as the double doors opened.
His breath caught.
She was beautiful.
Queen Elsa of Arendelle stepped forward onto the balcony, her whitish-blonde hair braided elegantly over her left shoulder, framing her pale and slender face. Her bright blue eyes gleamed as if illuminated by starlight—even from a considerable distance, Hansel's own eyes were drawn irresistibly to hers. Her purple cape and greenish-blue dress, while conservative, did nothing to conceal her svelte and sensual figure.
Hansel looked away. Idiot. What are you, fifteen?
He looked back, and only now noticed the queen's sister, the crown princess, standing by her side, and waving joyfully to the crowd. The queen gracefully raised her hand motioning for silence, and the crowd went quiet, now listening with eager anticipation.
Hansel mentally slapped himself back to attention. She's going to speak. Now keep your eyes and ears open.
'People of Arendelle, and our beloved guests from the lands beyond,' the queen began, 'it is my great honour to welcome you to our very first Frozen Festival!'
A cheer went up from the crowd, and many of the visiting guests applauded enthusiastically.
No demure young thing is she, Hansel thought. Her voice is gentle and elegant, but I can hear her even from here. Then again, perhaps the architecture of the courtyard amplified—shut up she's speaking again—
'Today marks the very first day of our celebrations; today, Arendelle welcomes the world through its open gates. Today, citizens and guests alike, we celebrate everything that Arendelle is and always will be!'
Another cheer, this one louder still.
Before she resumed speaking though, Hansel could just about make out the change in posture of both figures on the balcony. The princess drew closer to her sister, her arm gripping the queen's. And Elsa's back also stiffened, as if preparing for an anticipated—or dreaded—portion of her speech.
'We hope that this marks the beginning of an era of friendship, peace and prosperity for Arendelle and all her neighbours. To all of you who are here representing your esteemed kingdoms, Arendelle looks forward to a new age of cooperation, trust, and freedom.'
Hansel saw the rise and fall of the queen's chest as she breathed deeply.
'But freedom is meaningless if it is not offered to everyone.'
Hansel kept listening, as did the rest of the crowd without a sound.
'Six months ago, I lost control and plunged Arendelle into winter for several days. Those were fearful days. Not one, but two attempts were made on my life, by those who both feared and hated me. I came up, face first, against the suspicion and prejudice of those who would harm those like me.'
If a pin had dropped in the courtyard, Hansel would have heard it from way up on the roof. Some guests were nodding. A few of Arendelle's citizens dabbed gently at their eyes. A number of the visiting dignitaries remained still as stone, their postures rigid, their expressions unreadable.
I bet some of you wished that they had finished the job. Hansel knew the sentiment that had given rise to the assassination attempts on Queen Elsa were far from uncommon—more so in the great lands of Gallia and Suebia, from which the town of Weselton hailed.
Queen Elsa was speaking again.
'Magic is a part of me, and I cannot deny it any more than I can deny my place as ruler of Arendelle.' She paused, and her sister drew closer still. 'I do not know if there are others like me; if they are out there, if they understand as I have understood. But I do know that many like me would have suffered and endured pain as I have. And I believe, as queen of Arendelle, and as one of them, that no one should suffer for being who they are.'
The princess gazed up at her sister's face, her expression filled with quiet warmth and silent support.
'And therefore,' the queen continued, this time with a resolute edge to her voice that only accentuated her regal presence, 'I have decided not only to welcome all of you—distinguished guests and visitors—to Arendelle, but also those who seek a place to belong, those who have suffered for being like me. Henceforth, all those who have been touched by magic—whether born with it, or having been given it—and who are suffering in silence or in the open—to all of you who are hurting because of who you are, to all who long for a place to belong.'
She took a breath, composing herself. 'Arendelle will be your home and your haven. Here you will be protected; here you will be accepted. Here at last, you will be free; here, you may let go what you have held in and concealed all this while.'
She smiled, her posture relaxing. 'And here at last, you will have someone who understands.'
The princess moved completely into a full hug, gripping her sister tightly, ignoring all decorum or protocol. And, with warmth that was palpable even up to Hansel's perch, the queen hugged back.
A few people in the crowd began clapping. One or two raised a cheer. But for the majority, uncertain murmurs began to pepper the throng of guests. Hansel could spot some of them begin to cluster around their respective diplomats, convening hurried and whispered councils.
The die has been cast, he thought. An unexpected turn of events. Things in Arendelle just got a whole lot more interesting.
Very conspicuously, he saw Morcant mac Nuallan, alias Henrik Veicht, dressed unfittingly in Auvernian attire, gesture fleetingly to the men at his side. Conspicuously because he happened to be caught in the ray of sunlight arcing from above the walls, and also because years of training had hammered into the Hansel the habit of constantly ascertaining the position of his mentor and captain, no matter how packed the crowd or harried the atmosphere.
I sense a change in our orders. Hansel's lips drew together tightly.
Veicht had resumed the passive and unhurried demeanour of a foreign official flawlessly within an instant. Whatever the signal, Hansel had evidently not been meant to see it.
And I'm not sure that the new orders involve me, the mercenary thought.
The balcony doors had closed. The queen and princess had withdrawn. And the crowd remained, static and uncertain, the murmurs growing in volume.
The queen had just turned a delicate situation into a volatile one. And their assignment might have just changed drastically. Experience had taught Hansel that as orders changed, personnel are rendered redundant. Expedient assets will be expedited. The group will be kept as small as possible. And with the stakes as high as they are now, Veicht's enforcers will be responsible for the pruning.
Which leads us to rule two, Hansel thought as he slid easily off the roof, away from the courtyard, and towards the rope he had prepared ahead of time.
Act first.
Anna gripped Kristoff's arm excitedly as they walked in Elsa's wake towards the town square, hiking up the hem of her dress to move faster. Behind them, Sven tagged along, munching contentedly on a carrot. On either side, the throng of guests parted respectfully. Above them, a light shower of snowflakes fluttered upon the crowd.
Elsa poised right at the centre of the square, her hands outstretched. The crowd held its collective breath. The citizens of Arendelle knew what their queen was capable of, and waited excitedly with bated breath. Those from other lands had heard tales, and were eager to see for themselves.
Then, like the burst of starlight, the traces of magic emerged from her fingers, and a gasp escaped from the crowd.
And she was transformed.
Like a miniature, swirling blizzard, a flurry of frost spun up from the hem of her royal gown, spiraling upwards over her body. Teal was replaced by brilliant blue; purple by a shining translucent cape of ice. She was clad once more in the shimmering dress that so many of her people had come to associate with the Snow Queen—the symbol of power and beauty.
Elsa lifted her hands high above her heads. A second, louder gasp of wonder came from the crowd as ice columns rose from the ground across the square. Spinning like liquid, shedding crystals of frost, taking shape—they assumed the form of statues and people, each one a unique creation of Elsa's. Children chasing each other around the square. A horse, majestic and strong, in mid-gallop.
And right in front of Anna sprouted Elsa's dearest creation. One they both treasured. A pair of young girls, one cradling a snowflake in her hands, while the other gazed in wonder.
The crowd cheered and applauded. Some guests were wiping tears from their eyes. A few foreign diplomats had even removed their hats, as if in reverence of such a display of beauty.
'Hey Kristoff. Snap out of it.' Anna pinched the ice harvester's nose, yanking him out of a daze.
'Huh? Uh. Yeah.' Kristoff massaged his nose sheepishly, his cheeks bright red.
'It's beautiful, isn't it?' Anna sighed, gazing at the icy garden of sculptures, as children ran excitedly between the frozen figures of animals and people. 'It's not like you've never seen it before, though. Elsa's made plenty of ice sculptures for practice.'
She grinned at Kristoff, blushing a little at how adorable he was—it was just far too easy to get him at a loss for words.
'I—I just never, I never thought,' Kristoff began, still at a loss for words. He gulped, then looked at Anna. 'Ice is my life, my livelihood. But I never before thought ice could be—you know—this beautiful.'
Anna squealed, clapping her hands together. 'I know, I know! It gets me every time.' She looked at her sister as she walked gracefully across the square, waving and smiling at the awestruck guests.
'By the way,' Anna asked, 'where's Olaf?'
Another gasp escaped the crowd. Hopping across the streets towards the town square was a snowman—an actual, real snowman, with twigs for arms and a carrot for a nose—gasping and sighing excitedly.
'Ah, there he is.' Anna grinned from ear to ear; his enthusiasm was infectious.
'Elsa! It's beautiful! So beautiful!' Olaf hugged the hind legs of the frozen horse sculpture. 'Have you named him? I want to name him!'
Elsa giggled. 'Of course, Olaf! What's his name?'
Olaf gasped with excitement. 'Oh my goodness!' He wrapped his twig arms around the statue once more. 'You know what? I'll call you Snow Mane. 'Cause you're a horse, and you're made of snow—well, ice—and you have a mane!'
The guests were murmuring. The children chirped excitedly, all ogling the snowman with nothing but sheer delight. Some adults simply marveled along with them, though they accepted the snowman's presence—given what the queen could do, was creating a living thing of snow so far beyond her powers? One or two diplomats removed their glasses, rubbed them fiercely, put them on, removed them again, and rubbed them a second time, all the while glancing disbelievingly at the little creature.
A few whispers were there too, hissed and breathed, coupled with dark looks. Sorcery. Unnatural. Monstrous.
But for Kristoff, Sven, and the two sisters, the snowman was nothing less than the embodiment of pure love and cheerfulness—a creature of winter with summer in his heart.
'Hi Anna!' He hopped up to the princess next. 'Hi Kristoff! Hi Sven! It's a beautiful day!' As the reindeer sniffed eagerly at Olaf's nose, the snowman batted his snout away. 'Hey!'
Olaf nonchalantly picked up his head on his twig arms, putting it level with Anna's face while wearing what was his best impression of a concerned expression. 'I'm worried about your guests though,' he whispered. 'Some of them seem scared or something. Think they've seen snow before?'
Anna laughed nervously, glancing at Kristoff, who shrugged. 'Maybe Arendelle's just crazier than they're used to.'
She looked at Elsa, who was making a round of the square, adding finishing touches on the icy sculptures, her gestures unhurried and ever elegant.
And maybe my sister just isn't their average queen, Anna thought with a glow of quiet pride.
Suddenly, she spotted a familiar face. A familiar pair of faces, in fact.
'Rapunzel! Eugene!'
'Anna!' Rapunzel waved cheerily, clearly thrilled to see her.
The pair hugged briefly. 'Welcome back to Arendelle!' Anna said breathlessly. 'I can't wait to show you what's changed around the place.'
'I can only imagine.' Rapunzel smiled appreciatively. 'But you still haven't showed me the astronomy tower yet. Goodness knows I'd like to spend all night up there.'
'I'll take you there, I promise!' Anna was well aware of the princess' interest in star-gazing. 'And of course, I promise plenty of—'
'Chocolate!' Rapunzel squealed excitedly.
'Yes!' Anna accented, her hands curling up into little waving balls as she quivered with joy.
For a single moment, both princesses were gone, replaced instead by two giggling young ladies unabashedly excited at sharing a common passion.
Behind her, Kristoff approached tentatively. No doubt the visiting princess knew Anna well. Anna was probably friends and half-cousins with all the royalty in the land. In all probability, the next weeks would be spent accompanying Anna as she met with nobles and regents from the world over. Meetings where he would stand nervously as the royalty exchanged genteel pleasantries, while he would stick out like a uncouth and unlettered sore thumb.
Your girlfriend is a princess, lumphead. He chided himself. You know very well that this happens all the time. He smiled nervously, and suddenly felt extremely self-conscious in his rustic jacket and boots among the uniforms and tassels of the nobility.
His thoughts were interrupted as a sturdy hand clapped his shoulder.
'Hello! Well met!' He turned to see Rapunzel's companion, a young man with dark brown hair and a scruffy goatee. 'I'm Eugene, by the way. Representative of Corona, and right now feeling really out of place amongst all the high-class folk.' He grasped the mountaineer's hand firmly and warmly, and Kristoff felt his apprehension diminish.
'Hello—hi, Eugene. I'm Kris—I mean, of course you know that. Yeah. I'm Anna's, urm, I'm the royal Ice Master and Deliverer.' Kristoff stammered.
'Anna's boyfriend! Of course!' Eugene patted him on the back even harder. 'Great to finally put the face to the name.'
And…no follow-up pithy comment about a mountain man like me being with a princess like her? Kristoff marveled internally. Funny. Kind of was bracing for that.
'So, Ice Master!' Eugene continued. 'Tell me more about what you do.'
'Well, I, um,' Kristoff began, 'I basically deliver the ice from the mountains to the town. I use a sled to do it, and Sven here helps me pull it.' He gestured to the reindeer, who straightened haughtily with an expression of utmost pride.
Eugene looked at Sven with interest. 'He reminds me so much of a friend of mine. Which, by the way, is probably out devouring every apple in Arendelle. But I digress. That sounds like really tough work. How do you get the ice? Do you collect it off the mountain?'
Kristoff smiled, relaxing. 'I wish it was that easy. No, we have to do it the hard way—I use a saw to cut the blocks straight out of the frozen lake. Then I haul the ice onto the sled. It's about a mile or so from there to the ice house.'
Eugene's eyes widened with genuine interest. 'You must be the strongest man in Arendelle.'
Kristoff laughed, this time genuinely and unreservedly. He was amazed; he was prepared to meet a snooty, stuffy-shirt prince who would probably be hard to talk to and harder still to like. Instead, Eugene's charm was infectious, and Kristoff was actually flattered that someone had shown real interest in his work.
'So what about you, Eugene?' Kristoff ventured. 'What do you do?'
'Well, as of now, boring stuff. Real, dead boring stuff.' Eugene rolled his eyes.
'But what I used to do, however…'
He leaned in closer, putting an arm around Kristoff's shoulder conspiratorially.
'Now that's a whole different tale altogether.'
Every team, no matter how competent or professional, has at least one designated team idiot. Contrary to popular belief, this idiot doesn't necessarily have to be clueless and in the dark. In actual fact, the knowledge he does have coupled with his lack of competence is what makes him dangerous—and, to the right person, useful.
Hansel found his idiot in a tavern at ten o'clock, putting away mug after mug of Arendelle beer. Hansel took the stool next to his, and ordered a beer. He spent the next two minutes eyeing him. His Auvernian uniform was already coming apart; buttons were missing from his vest, and two of the lapel pins were tacked on upside-down.
It does not take much to goad a man who has had too much to drink into spur-of-the-moment decisions.
'Hey, piss-head. You look like the kind of guy whose grandmother could beat him at arm-wrestling. I'm here if you want to prove me wrong.' Hansel jeered, making sure the whole tavern could hear him. He leaned forward, elbow resting on the tabletop, his left hand extended in challenge.
The man gazed at him drunkenly, spat into his mug, and undid his vest, rolling up his sleeves to expose a heavily tattooed forearm.
'Let's do this,' he slurred, tossing his vest aside. It rested, crumpled, on the floor of the tavern. Underneath, he wore only a plain, dirty-looking shirt. Hansel noted satisfactorily that it had no pockets.
Nice. His gamble had paid off.
Hansel's hand was crushed in a vise-like grip. For an inebriated mercenary, the man sure was strong.
They sparred for a minute or two. Hansel had wanted to lose on purpose; he soon found that there was no need. Despite using his left hand to match Hansel's, the man was strong, immensely strong. After two minutes of groaning and straining, Hansel's hand finally hit the table in defeat.
A collective sigh went out from the onlookers, and a few pointed jeers rang out.
Hansel was unfazed. 'Fair's fair. Here you go, little something for your trouble.' He tossed his coin pouch at the half-drunk, who fumbled as he caught it. The man's expression changed from one of disdain to an almost hungry look.
As the mercenary poured out the contents of the pouch, entirely distracted, Hansel strode over and nonchalantly picked up his discarded vest.
There are three pockets on the inner lining. It's the only place he can store anything. He draped the vest casually over his hand, which quickly palpated the mass of fabric.
There was always a chance that there was absolutely no payoff and that he had sacrificed a week's pay for absolutely nothing. A job hazard, but one he accepted. Gambling on someone's stupidity and carelessness was a gamble nonetheless.
Then his hand brushed against a soft, flat shape, and he smiled.
Bingo.
He tossed the vest onto the tabletop. The entire sleight-of-hand had taken no more than five seconds.
'Here you go. Don't forget this.'
The drunk ignored Hansel, now back to downing his next mug of beer.
Hansel walked out of the tavern and circled around twice—ensuring he wasn't followed—before heading down an alley to examine his prize. He opened the half-crumpled, carelessly folded sheet of paper.
Whatever new orders Veicht had issued, it was unlikely that it had been translated into writing thus far. Still, Hansel suspected that there were instructions issued to the 'Auvernian' contingent about their duties on spying around Arendelle. Instructions, perhaps, different from his.
Veicht's standard technique for information control. Compartmentalisation. You know enough to get your own job done. No more.
As he scanned the document quickly, his breath caught.
He was right about the instructions being different. He was wrong, dead wrong, about just how different.
Hansel cursed inwardly. Then, softly but firmly nonetheless, he cursed out loud.
We are scoundrels, thieves, liars and low-lives. We are not assassins.
This is wrong.
What the hell was their real mission?
'You sick bastards,' he whispered, crumpling the paper in his fist.
'She is nineteen years old!'
For some, the best way to thaw a frozen heart is right through the sternum.