When Elsa awoke to her aching bones, she instantly wished that she had not. She felt as if she had been rudely interrupted - thrust roughly back into the real world from the blissful emptiness - and at first tried to reclaim the sleep, sinking down into the bed beneath her. Her eyes remained closed as the last of her blank dreams rolled off of her tongue with a grunt. She stretched a little and tried to relax.
That was when the queen noticed that the soreness she had felt was not mere tiredness as she had expected.
Elsa could sense a latent pain waiting inside of her every limb, threatening to burst out in earnest at any moment. Most of her skin was stiff, bandage-wrapped and numb; most of her muscles resistant to her attempts at motion. Her throat was dry and painful. Her right leg could not move at all.
Elsa winced, remembered everything, and finally opened her eyes wide.
"Queen Elsa?" came a familiar squeak from her bedside. It was Martin in his typical uniform, the bruise on his damp forehead a light peach but still vaguely apparent. The guardsman rose at once from his post at the infirmary wall and approached the bed. "Are you alright?"
Elsa had grown still again, afraid of the pain that further movement would undoubtedly cause. "I... I think so," she said politely, but speaking itself had already started to summon a terrible dryness in her throat. She wheezed out a cough.
"Let me get the doctor," Martin rushed out of the small room and into the conjoined office.
Elsa knew her surroundings to be the castle's sterile yet stuffy second floor infirmary. Even without moving, she could tell that she was wrapped in thick bandages on one of the room's three sickbeds, laying under its single silken sheet. An empty, worn chair stood a few feet to her right, regarding the injured queen with an impassive (and nonexistent) stare.
Within moments, Martin reentered the room just behind a tired, flustered-looking doctor. He was an older man who had been a part of the royal staff for decades. That was not to say that he had much experience on the job, however. Most of his work had consisted of treating Anna's frequent but insignificant indoor bicycling injuries and filling the rest of his time with study of collected archaic medical journals.
The physician scurried to Elsa - stepping around the visitors' chair - and began examining her mildly burn-laden face with nervous glances.
"How do you feel?" he ventured after a few uncomfortable seconds.
"It hurts," Elsa rasped.
The doctor gulped. "Where?"
"Everywhere," the queen answered with effort. She coughed again. "I... Throat..."
"I'll go get her some water," Martin offered to a frantic nod from the other man before darting out of the infirmary, this time through a different door.
"How... Long?" Elsa tried to ask a few seconds after he had departed.
"Try not to strain your voice."
"How long... Was I-"
"About three days," the physician answered, afraid that the queen could repeat herself again if he refused. "Three days and a few hours, now."
"What-"
"Please, Queen Elsa," the doctor stopped his patient again. He had finished the limited examination that he could accomplish without physical contact and now stood helplessly at the bedside. "You must rest - that is the best we can do at the moment," he told the immobilized queen with pity in his voice.
Questions burned at Elsa's lips, but she knew to heed the man's words lest they burn at her throat as well. She would wait for the water, at least.
It was several long minutes before Martin returned to the infirmary with a rather large glass from the kitchen. He hurriedly bypassed the physician and brought it to the queen's mouth, gently tipping the cup forward towards her greedy, painful gulps. Elsa emptied it in one long, continuous drink and then gasped thankfully to signal that she was finished.
"I'll go get some more-"
"No," Elsa interrupted the guardsman before he could leave again. Her words still sounded scratchy, but, at the very least, it no longer hurt for her to speak. "I'm fine. I need to know what happened."
"What happened?" the doctor asked, horrified. "Queen Elsa, have you lost your memory?"
"No, no, no," Elsa would have shook her head in annoyance if she were not so sure that it would hurt. "I remember everything. The Dark Mage - Tell me what happened to the Dark Mage."
The physician looked relieved.
"He didn't survive," Martin announced.
"I see," Elsa said. She spoke deliberately, already fearing the answer to her next question. "And his hostage?"
Martin frowned. "He didn't, either."
The queen shuddered and whimpered at the ensuing pain.
"Queen Elsa, I must insist that you rest," the doctor said quietly. "Please, you cannot worry yourself with such things."
Elsa felt the truth of the old man's words in her itching skin, but she still had to know more. Arendelle Castle had been attacked - even in her present state, the queen felt obligated to know the consequences.
"What about the other man in the courtyard?" she croaked. "The party guest."
Both Martin and the doctor looked over Elsa and to the sickbed furthest from her own. The queen painfully shifted her head to the side to see that it was occupied. In the bed, a heavy, sleeping man shifted in unison with his weak snores, curled up and facing away from her.
"Ambassador Malhaas Balan of Geralde," the doctor commented reluctantly, not wanting to prompt any more conversation. "He was not as badly hurt as you. He should be well enough to leave very soon, I would expect."
"Was anyone else hurt?" Elsa followed up much to the physician's displeasure. She moved with less difficulty this time, turning to face him and the guardsman again with only a slight wince.
"No, Queen Elsa," the physician said.
"The courtyard - what about the courtyard?"
"Nothing that can't be fixed," the doctor assured the queen.
"Don't worry, Princess Anna has been handling everything," Martin added. "She has had men working around the clock on repairs to the castle. I would bet that she would even be helping them out, too, if she weren't in here watching over you so much," he gestured vaguely to the chair beside him. "If we're being honest, she's almost putting me out of a job."
Elsa felt a pang of regret as she remembered the last time she had spoken to her sister, the princess's final gasp cycling in her mind. What exactly the queen had said and why exactly she had said it were lost in her memory, overwhelmed by an accompanying guilt that transcended them both.
"Where is Anna now?" Elsa choked out.
"It's rather late," Martin replied. "Kristoff had just finally convinced her to get some rest before you woke up. I could go after them, if you so wish, but," the guardsman hesitated, "Princess Anna hasn't slept since the festival, I don't think. She can't have - she's been in here almost the whole time. I believe it would be wise to wait for her to come back in the morning."
"I agree," the doctor interjected.
Elsa nodded carefully. It sounded like her sister needed the rest as much as she did. The queen reluctantly allowed her sore muscles to relax and began to slump down into the mattress once more. Her craving for sleep returned immediately, even stronger than it had been before.
"Thank you both," she murmured, her eyelids suddenly very heavy.
"Of course, Queen Elsa," Martin was nearly standing at attention. The doctor mimicked his pose to the best of his ability and nodded.
The queen glanced over at the two sweaty men and the empty chair for a final time, turned her lips up in a polite albeit slight smile, and then closed her eyes.
Anna was practically dragging Kristoff through the second floor.
The ice master had come to the infirmary about half an hour before for the express purpose of getting his girlfriend to go to bed. He would be leaving to visit his family the next day (on a royal order to consult the trolls on the Dark Mage's attack, of course) and wanted to make sure that the princess had at least one good night's rest before his departure.
Leaving Anna in the wake of the disaster alone was going be hard enough. The fact that she had not slept in days didn't exactly instill him with confidence.
Needless to say, Kristoff had been relieved when the redhead had agreed to let him lead her to her bedroom.
Anna had said nothing as they left the infirmary - reasonable, Kristoff thought, on account of her assumed tiredness - but it was not long before the quiet seemed suspicious. The princess had delicately wrapped her arm underneath the ice master's own and was suddenly leading him forward at a notably accelerated pace.
This fact only became a real problem when Anna pulled her companion gently to the side and they turned onto an hallway unfamiliar to Kristoff - a hallway that started taking them in the opposite direction of their alleged destination.
"Where are we going?"
"Nowhere."
"Anna!" Kristoff complained, but it was no use. Evidenced by her self-assured silence, the princess was in one of her resolved moods.
"We're going to the library first," Anna said simply. She sounded like she was distracted by something - she often did since the festival.
"The library?" Kristoff scoffed as they turned another corner.
"Yeah."
The castle's main library was at the end of the mysterious hallway, its entrance marked by a large, door-less arch.
Kristoff had never visited the room - most of his exploration of the castle was guided by Anna, and she had certainly never led him there - and the sheer wealth of volumes inside stunned him upon their entry. The ice master was never much of a reader himself, but, looking upon the towering bookcases that lined the torch-lit chamber's walls and formed orderly rows in its center, he for the first time felt as if he were truly missing out.
Anna released her grasp on the awestruck man and moved quickly to a shelf to the immediate right of the doorway. She began to trace her thumb across the spines within, muttering unintelligible things under her breath as she went.
"What are you looking for?" Kristoff asked once he had finished absorbing the scene. The ice master joined his girlfriend at the bookcase.
"Some books," Anna answered nonchalantly. She moved up a row, now searching on her tip-toes, and finally seemed to find whatever it was that she had been pursuing. With a few small hops, she tilted five books of various shapes and sizes out of their resting places. The princess stowed the volumes under her arm before checking a sixth on the shelf with her fingers, mouthing the inscribed title but seeming dissatisfied by it.
"When did you suddenly decide to take up reading?" Kristoff teased from behind her.
Anna silently recited another spine and then added its flimsy novel to her cache. "The tutors always used to assign a lot of reading."
"Weird."
"What? It wasn't like there was much else to do around here, and I had to keep up with my studies-"
"No, not that," Kristoff's smugness was almost audible in his words. "I just don't see any tutors around."
Anna turned, finished with her task, and returned the ice master's grin with a fake pout. "Hey, I read other stuff, too. For fun. Sometimes."
Kristoff swiped two of the books from the princess's loose hold before she could react. He squinted at their covers one after the other, reading their titles aloud. "Sea of Love and The Troll Prince?"
Anna hastily snatched the volumes back and tucked them under her arm and secured them tighter than she had before. Kristoff seemed to consider something for a moment as he watched her.
"You know, sappy romance novels I can believe," a smirk appeared on his face, "but aren't you a little old to still be reading fairy tales?"
This time, Anna started giggling.
"Hey, now. Don't knock the romance novels," she scolded in jest amidst laughter. "And you're never too old for some good fairy tales."
"Right."
"But these aren't for me, anyway," Anna calmed herself. "Well, they are, but not really. Well, yes, really, but I didn't pick them, okay?"
"Okay?" the ice master repeated, raising an eyebrow as his own smile also faded.
"What I mean is that I only wanted these books specifically because I caught Elsa reading them the other night."
"Queen Elsa?" Kristoff grew more confused. "Queen Elsa was reading Sea of Love?"
"I know," Anna nodded. "I thought it was weird, too. I mean, the night before the festival I caught her in here super late. I guess that's not that weird, but she had all of these," the princess gestured to the collection under her arm, "laying around on the ground."
"Maybe she was so enraged by their disgusting cheesiness that she threw them-"
"No, she was actually reading them," Anna stressed, nevertheless unable to keep from cracking a tiny smile at the playful jab. "I asked her about it."
"What did she say?"
"She just said that they were 'all about love'," Anna recited, recalling her sister's terse explanations.
"I don't get it."
There was a long pause. Anna's shoulders drooped. "I don't, either," she said, but Kristoff got the feeling that it was something larger than a mere statement of agreement. The admission meant more to the princess than it did to him.
"Anna?"
"You remember how I told you about when Elsa and I talked on the night of the festival?"
Kristoff nodded. The ice master remembered it well - he had caught a teary-eyed Anna sitting in the infirmary two nights before and she had told him all about the queen's harsh words of misunderstanding.
Suddenly, he realized why Anna's words had been so heavy.
"Elsa was right. I don't really understand her," the princess continued. "I thought I did. After everything that happened, I thought I understood everything, but now that I really think about it... I'm not so sure," she paused in thought, her frame shaking softly under the pressure of held-back tears. "It's like I see things differently than her."
"See things differently?"
"Yeah," the young woman answered. "It's like there's something just in the way," she decided, her voice sounding strange to the ice master, inexplicably both deliberate and uncertain. "I mean, for some reason, I can't understand why Elsa likes to stay up in her room all day. I can't understand why she was reading these books the other day. I definitely can't understand why she still seems so worried all the time-"
"Well, why don't you just ask her?" Kristoff interrupted.
"Ask her?"
"Yeah, when she wakes up," the ice master said. "You could ask her about all those things."
"It's... It's not like that," Anna said slowly. Despite her pace, however, the princess sounded sure, as if she had thought through such a solution already. "I just feel like this isn't the kind of thing that we can just talk through."
Kristoff raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, who are you? Weren't you the one who was going to thaw Arendelle just by 'talking to your sister'?"
Although the comment was for the most part an attempt at a lame joke, Anna didn't even smile out of politeness. Instead, she seemed to contemplate the words deeply for a moment before replying.
"This is different," she decided finally. The princess again was distracted - lost in thoughts that were difficult to put into words. "I don't know why, but I just feel like I can't fix it like that this time," Anna admitted, scaring herself with the notion. "I feel like I have to find another way."
"Like reading?" Kristoff asked doubtfully.
Anna shrugged. "It's a start," she contended. "I'll start with the books and I won't stop until I figure it all out," the princess declared. "Whatever it is that I don't understand about Elsa... I'm going to do everything that I can to start understanding it."
Anna awaited Kristoff's response with stubborn, dedicated eyes. Of course, he found them cute, but he still knew all too well that the pools of cyan were not to be messed with. She was serious.
"Sounds like you've got a plan," the ice master said.
"I do," Anna nodded, a tiny smile of vindication emerging proudly from her once serious expression. "Yeah, I do."
"And, since you've got your books, we'll be moving on to step number two. What was it, again?" Kristoff took a moment, consulting an imaginary schedule. "Oh, yeah: sleep."
Anna's lips reversed their orientation in an instant. She had been hoping to get some reading done.
"Please, Anna?" Kristoff practically begged. "Have you even been in your bed since the festival?"
"I've been spending a lot of time in the infirmary," the princess answered quietly.
"You don't say."
Anna remained silent and frowning.
"You need to get some rest," Kristoff insisted. "I can't leave for the Valley in the morning with you running on fumes. I don't know, you could collapse or something. I'd be a nervous wreck, you know - maybe an actual one, too."
The ice master could tell that she was starting to budge.
"Please?" he offered his hand to her. "The books will be there when you wake up, I promise. Do it for your sake, for my sake?"
One of the sides of Anna's mouth turned up once more. "Fine," she said, "but you can't stop me from bringing them to my room. You know, in case I can't sleep."
"I'll take it," Kristoff grinned in relief.
The pair exited the library holding hands.
"I doubt Sea of Love can compete with those nice, warm, fluffy royal pillows, anyway."
"Oh, come on, it's really not that bad!" Anna protested. "You know, I think you should read it after I'm done!"
"Not happening."
That night, Elsa sleep was lively for the first time since her injury. Her mind flared as her body rested, playing back the memories of the fateful festival until they were distorted to things only vaguely recognizable - shadows of their former selves corrupted by repetition and imagination.
In her dream, Elsa stood alone in the ballroom. The hall was decorated for the festival, but no such celebration was taking place. The room around her was both bright and lonely; jovial and vacant.
The queen stood on the royal platform - bound there by her recollection - and looked out of the open archway on the other side of the deserted room.
The terrace, too, was devoid of people, empty save for its two ice fountains and the grand stage between them reaching to the moon far above. The barrel-shaped structure - possibly the whole courtyard - reflected Elsa's stare.
In a few moments, a shape appeared atop the opposite platform and Elsa was no longer alone. A robed figure drifted out of the night sky, materializing from nothing. It was the Dark Mage, and he also watched the queen as she watched him.
Elsa wanted to say something, but she could not move.
Just as quickly as he had appeared, the Dark Mage rose his arms in a dramatic gesture and a roaring chuckle. From his gloved hands erupted countless fires, though they did not surge forward to collect themselves in the air this time. Instead, they wrapped in tight bands around the mage's fingertips and then his knuckles before leaping up onto the sleeves of his maroon cloak.
Elsa wanted to do something, but she could not move.
Soon, the Dark Mage's entire body was covered by the flames. His howling laughter only grew more severe under the new robe, the distorted sound of triumph smothered by the inferno.
It was when the fiery shape on the stage glowed its brightest - a magnificent, intimidating golden star in the darkness - that the guffaw ceased, leaving the noise of the flames alone to fill the deserted courtyard. The conflagration had begun to recede from the mage's wrap, now moving on hungrily to the stage below.
The fire left the Dark Mage's head completely. It had eaten away the hood of the cloak, but something remained underneath, untouched - the enigma's face.
Dee Daleon's eyes pierced through the hollow festival, focused pleadingly on the queen's own.
Elsa wanted to help her, but she could not move.
And the widow was trapped just like her counterpart. They waited, staring at each other.
They both knew what would happen next.
A few painful seconds passed and the women heard the sound of hundreds of fuses lighting within the wooden structure. A few more and the explosions began.
The last thing that Elsa saw was a flurry of multicolored lights - the same multicolored lights - flooding through the archway before she awoke with a startled gasp and was delivered back to the safety of the infirmary.
"Queen Elsa!" Martin was at her bedside instantly, jumping up from his vigilant stance against the wall and skipping around the still-empty visitors' chair. It had been hours since the queen had stirred for the first time and now the night was just beginning to shrink from the infirmary's sole window. "What's wrong?"
"Daleon," Elsa muttered, thankful for the ability to finally speak but still limited by the renewed dryness in her throat. "Mrs. Daleon."
"Mrs. Daleon?" Martin asked, trying to make sense of the queen's injured plea. "Dee Daleon, that assassin that they caught trying to get into the festival? What about her?"
"Where?" Elsa managed.
"Where?" the guardsman repeated. "Well, as far as I know she's still in the dungeon. Last I heard, the captain was awaiting your approval for the execution."
"Execution?"
Martin nodded. "You talked to her on the night of the festival, didn't you? She brought a knife when she tried to sneak into the ballroom. She was going to, uh, kill you, Queen Elsa."
"No... Execution," Elsa said scratchily. Although she struggled to speak, the queen's eyes bored into her subject with a terrifying sternness.
"No execution?" Martin asked nervously, unsettled by the look. "I... What do you mean no execution?"
"Release Mrs. Daleon," it took all of Elsa's effort to make her demand absolutely clear. "Martin... You... Take her home..."
"You can't be serious," the guardsman said. "You do realize that she tried to-"
"Queen's orders," Elsa interrupted and then promptly coughed, blocking out any further objections.
The two looked at each other for a long time after the fit had subsided. Martin searched the queen's communicative eyes for flaws in her resolve; Elsa proved that there were none to be found.
It was an order. The highest one that the guardsman had ever received himself, in fact.
"Yes, Queen Elsa."
Martin stepped away from the bed, dumbfounded. He rushed into the office, rustled the physician from his own restless sleep to inform him of the situation, and then left the infirmary altogether without so much as looking back.
