Elsa's hair drapes her shoulders in a river of undulating blonde tresses; she blows a lock from her eyes and focuses on putting the final touches to a snow-pigeon in her hands. Beside her, a mess of matted red hair glows beneath the morning sun; it heaves softly with each breath Anna takes, like the last flickering of a wood fire needing to be stoked.
She diverts her attention from the motionless bird and peers at a ray of sunlight shining directly into Anna's closed eyes, still stirring in her sleep. Elsa purses her lips and blows a breath of snow on her creation, smiling as its wings flutter to life and coos into the warm air. She shifts her weight from the bed carefully and creaks open the window by an inch.
"You know where to go," Elsa whispers into its feathers, pointing at the naval ensigns fluttering from ships' masts gathering in Finnmark's harbour, "fly along now, little one."
Elsa slips back into bed and folds her arms on the pillow; she takes her time to study each freckle on her sister's face. With sleep still heavy on her eyes and last night's memories poignant in her mind, her gaze trails along Anna's neck and upon her freckle-lined shoulders. A smirk forms on her lips as she blows a frosty breath on Anna's face.
Anna shudders awake and wipes away the ice forming on her face. With the sun still bearing down on her eyes, she slumps back into bed, but her fingers find Elsa's.
"You always did that to me when we shared rooms," Anna mutters as she draws circles in Elsa's palm.
"We're women now, and you still can't find it in you to rise before dawn," Elsa mumbles, combing her fingers through Anna's dishevelled hair.
"You woke me," Anna slurs, forcing her eyes open, "I was having a good dream,"
"Well, I'm sorry to interrupt-"
"It's alright," Anna whispers, trailing her fingers along Elsa's face as she gazes into her sister's eyes, "I woke up into a better one."
Elsa smiles; she tips her sister's lips to hers and wakes her up with a kiss. Nothing has changed from last night: the same salty-sweet taste of desire in Anna's lips, the same heat she sends flushing through Elsa's face, and the same strawberry breath she exhales so elegantly despite her unkempt appearance.
"I don't ever want to wake from this dream," Elsa whispers against Anna's lips.
"You look…beautiful with your hair down," Anna says, "I mean you look stunning with it up, but this is…a different sort of pretty."
Elsa looks at the red mane sprouting from her sister's head and chuckles, "Alright then, let's tidy each other up."
With only one brush between them, the sisters take turns to brush and braid each other's hair. Elsa winces at the firmer-than-usual tugs of the brush, and Anna takes longer than the royal hairdresser to get her hair done. But when her sister's finished, she's positive her crown braid mimics the regal look she carries on her best days.
Elsa lends her sister some underclothes, and helps tie the laces on the back of a royal dress. Anna stares at the tattered remains of Elsa's dress on the floor, and bites on her lower lip.
"I'm sorry about that," she whispers and runs her fingers along the bruises on Elsa's arms, "and this too."
"You're feisty in bed aren't you?" Elsa quips, pulling on a chemise, "I like that side of you."
The Queen rises from the bed and touches a finger to her shoulders. At once, frost crackles across her pale skin and spreads across her entire body. Layer upon layer of inter-woven ice linings fall upon each other in a powdery crescendo of snowflakes fluttering off her body and melting away in the warm air. The sleet settles, and Elsa stands clad in an elaborate ice-gown, complete with long, opaque sleeves and ice slippers adorning her feet.
"Woah," Anna says with her jaw hanging wide open, "that is…something! I'll probably never get tired of watching you get dressed!"
With Elsa's gown done, Anna settles her gaze upon the crown sitting on the dresser table.
"So, you have to be the Queen today, huh?" Anna says, looking down at her feet.
"Yes," Elsa answers, studying the expression on her sister's face, "but..."
The downcast look on Anna's face causes Elsa's chest to clench; she picks up her crown and places it on her sister's head.
"You can be the Queen for today, if you like," Elsa says.
"Of course not," Anna scowls, plucking the crown from her hair and tucking it into Elsa's braid, "the title belongs to you."
"Listen, Anna," Elsa whispers, crawling into bed with her sister. With a finger poised on Anna's chin, she tips her face up and trails a hand against her face. The sisters lock eyes as Elsa touches a finger to the centre of Anna's head, sending a burst of cold spreading across her hair. Anna gasps at the frost and leaps to a dust-coated mirror.
"Oh my god, Elsa!" Anna exclaims, touching the ornate ice-tiara Elsa had crafted into her hair. Fashioned from transparent, gleaming ice and studded with snowflakes, the piece rivals the actual Arendelle crown in opulence.
"It's beautiful!" Anna gasps with widened eyes as she studies her reflection in the mirror. Elsa spreads her palm over her sister's head and showers a coating of ice-crystals on the crown, giving the impression of a diamond-encrusted layer. Mesmerised by the tiara's splendour, Anna fails to notice her sister slipping her arms from behind; the cold from Elsa's gown causes her to jolt.
"I have to be the Queen of Arendelle; this was a duty passed down from our Parents, and I owe the Kingdom my service," Elsa whispers into her sister's hair, "but you will always be the Queen of my heart."
Anna whirls around within her sister's grasp and crushes her lips into Elsa's. The force takes her by surprise and she staggers backwards on her ice-heels; but when she regains her balance – she kisses her sister back without a shred of hesitation lingering on her lips.
"I love you," Anna whispers against Elsa's lips, "even if we are more than sisters now."
"Nothing could be greater than what we share as sisters," Elsa says, gingerly resting her hand on Anna's chest, "if you search your heart deep enough, you'll know what it really was that made you save me at the Fjord."
Anna's eyes widen, and her lips part with a multitude of words ready to roll off her tongue.
"Shh, you don't have to tell me anything now," Elsa says, pressing a finger to her lips, "are you ready to go?"
With a firm nod, Anna slips her fingers into Elsa's, and they venture outside. At the sight of Elsa and Anna striding from their room decked in royal clothes and crowns gleaming in the morning light, the innkeeper falls off his stool and staggers towards the Royal siblings with his head bowed.
"Your Majesty," he pleads, "forgive my lack of-"
"Save it," Elsa scowls, pressing a pair of gold coins into his hand, "I had meant for my appearance to deceive after all."
The crisp, fall breeze greets them as they descend the inn's steps and enter the awaiting royal carriage. An ominous overcast has settled upon Finnmark's skies; these are beyond the reach of the Queen's powers. Despite everything she's done this morning, Elsa looks at the sky and wonders if she has the strength to face the test that stands before her.
Standing on the dock, Elsa clenches her fists and repeats herself over the sloshing of seawater.
"I'm sorry, what did you say?"
The Admiral; a tall, lanky man wearing a blazer two sizes too big to accommodate the host of medals pinned on his chest, looks away and answers, "Due to the nature of this exercise, we humbly request her Highness Princess Anna to remain onshore during the proceedings for her own safety as she is not acquainted with the militaristic nature of war."
Anna stands a foot away from Elsa, her eyes rolling about with the motion of the jolly boat tied to the pier.
Elsa furrows her brows and continues, "I don't get why-"
"Elsa, it's alright, I'll watch from the shore," Anna says, clutching at her stomach, "I don't think I really want to get into..um..small boats anyway. I...y'know…had a bad experience once."
"Are you sure?" Elsa asks, grasping her sister's shoulders and trying to shake the slate-grey colour from her face. It takes several firm throttles for Anna to return her gaze to Elsa's.
"Yes!" Anna says, forcing a weak smile at her sister, "I'll…um…see you in a bit?"
"Hey, I'll be back before you know it, alright?" Elsa answers, slipping on a pair of gloves, "We could even be back in time for supper at the Palace."
Anna's smile intensifies as she looks into her sister's eyes. With the Admiral and curious citizens looking on, she stands on the tips of her toes and kisses her sister's nose.
"Stay safe, dear sister," Anna says, throwing herself into Elsa's arms, "I won't move an inch until you come back."
Snowflakes peel from Elsa's skin as she steps into the boat and the men row her towards Arendelle's fleet anchored in the Fjord. Despite the heaving and rolling of the boat with the waves, Elsa remains standing – her eyes fixed on the solitary glint of crystal sitting on a head of red. She keeps looking, even as Anna's figure fades in with the shore, and the oars freeze solid in their rowers' hands.
The clipper's crew stands to attention and bows as the Queen appears on deck. Elsa strides to the starboard bulwark and stares at the green plains before her, aligned to face the fleet for maximum visual impact. The entire battalion of artillery pieces from Arendelle's armoury has been deployed for the trials, and they face westwards across an immense, flat open plain. Elsa turns and notices a different ship anchored portside, not belonging to the Kingdom's fleet; she frowns and tries to remember exactly where she last saw that distinct olive branch crest. A chill surges through her bones as the memories filter back.
"Admiral," Elsa hisses, frosting over his epaulettes with her breath, "could you explain to me exactly why a ship from the Southern Isles is anchored off our portside?"
He clears his throat and explains, "Diplomacy by deterrence, your Majesty. If all goes well, they'll be terrified by the full might of your powers and give us more favourable terms during, um, future trade negotiations."
"I don't remember giving permission to-, oh forget it. Are we ready to conduct the trials?"
"Certainly!" he snaps his fingers at a slender man in glasses from the Royal Society of London.
The scientist unfurls a scroll onto a makeshift rostrum and announces, "Trial number one: Land warfare, exposure to artillery barrage not exceeding one battalion of 24-pounder batteries firing round and canister shot."
Elsa removes her gloves and shuts her eyes. She clenches her teeth and holds her breath as a snowy wind picks up around her and whips away at her cape. Holding out her hands, the snowstorm circulates around her palms and materialises itself into a giant snowball. The miniature blizzard whipping up the tackle above deck sends the sails fluttering upon their masts, and the crew covers their faces with the thick winter jackets they've prepared. Elsa stands back on her heels and punches the snowball, sending it hurtling towards the plains. The white globe grows as it picks up speed, leaving a howling blizzard billowing in its wake.
With a diameter now similar to a large house, the snowball slams into the ground several miles from the cannons and shatters into a multitude of other snowballs. The largest of them rolls to a halt, before quivering in its place. With a loud rumble, it cracks open and hatches a gargantuan snow bear: standing nine feet tall, and clad in spiky ice-armour, it wields an ice-mace with the ease of a gladiator. The bear unleashes a roar that can be heard from the fleet, and the other snowballs begin hatching snow bears.
A chorus of growling echoes across the plains as the snow bears move into formation behind their leader. Numbering ten bears for every cannon staring them down across the plain, they form rank and file with the discipline of a conventional military unit. The lead bear unleashes a roar that shakes the earth beneath its feet, and the bears mount a charge across the plains, tearing up the soil with their razor-sharp ice-claws.
Arendelle's army General, a muscular man with broad shoulders despite his greying hair, orders the artillery to open fire; a flag is hoisted on the lead ship's mast, and the battalion unleashes a barrage of deafening cannon-fire.
The plains erupt in a devastating maelstrom of grass and soil as the cannon balls shred through the earth. With one barrage failing to meet its target, and with the stampeding bears approaching the halfway mark – the gun crews adjust their sightings and reload for another salvo. This time, the hail of cannon fire tears right into the heart of the charge – ripping apart bears and scattering plumes of snow upon the plain.
The Admiral hands Elsa a telescope, and she peers down the lens at the mock battle playing out before her. A smirk forms on her lips as she observes the shredded bears morphing into snow wolves and continuing their charge on the batteries. She parts her gaze from the battlefield and gestures at the scientist, furiously scribbling away while an officer provides live commentary via another telescope.
"Make sure you get all that down," Elsa commands. The ship's crew and Arendelle's military delegation cram themselves against the railings, eager to watch how the battle plays out.
With less than half a mile left for Elsa's snow wolves to close in on the artillery, the gun crews switch to canister shots for their third barrage. Unlike the bears, the snow wolves barely resemble any conventional cavalry charge known to man, descending upon the guns in their hundreds. The horde of chaotic, disorganized howling comes to a quick end as the canister salvo slams into its body – exploding into deadly clouds of shrapnel and shredding apart their bodies in a roaring crescendo of flame, metal and snow.
The General smirks at the sight of snow dust settling upon the plains beneath the haze of cannon-fire.
"Your Majesty," he sneers, lowering his telescope, "it appears my artillery has routed your charge."
Elsa's maintains a steely expression as she raises the telescope to her eyes.
"General, it appears your gun crews are abandoning their positions."
Scowling, the General peers through the telescope again. A veteran of numerous battles across continental Europe; the blood drains from his face when he sees the layer of sleet morphing into a million snow rats and descending upon the cannons in a thick swarm. A few batteries maintain their positions in defiance, bottoming out their guns and blasting away at the rats with grapeshot. But sense overwhelms their courage as they realise it'll take all the gunpowder in the world to put a scratch in the multitude of snow rats crawling into their cannon barrels and freezing them solid.
Left defenceless, the gun crews retreat to the command battery. A white flag flutters over the sight of a million snow rats gnawing away at the guns.
"Trial number one completed," the scientist announces, still writing on the rostrum, "Arendelle forfeits!"
A weak cheer breaks out amongst the sailors and officers present. Despite their excitement at watching the Queen's powers in action – they know she will be the cause of the military's disbandment, forcing a change to their livelihoods.
"I guess you win then," the General shrugs, handing the telescope back to the Admiral.
"You're missing the point, this isn't a competition," Elsa says, "but regardless, can we start the next trial?"
"Of course!" the Admiral answers, gesturing at the ship's portside. The ship lists slightly as everyone above deck shifts over to the port bulwark, keen to see what will happen to the empty hulk of a ship anchored a mile away.
"Trial number two," the scientist announces, "Naval warfare: empty ship, time taken for sinking with no resistance."
The ship's chronometer is brought out and laid upon the rostrum. Elsa extends a telescope and examines the ship: with paint peeling from her side and gaping holes littered across her hull – to say she had seen better days would've been an understatement. Her mast creaks loudly as it sways in the wind, and Elsa tells herself she'll be doing a favour by putting her out of her misery.
Elsa detaches a snowflake peeling from her hair and takes hold of it between her slender fingers. She leans over the railings and extends her hand towards the sea. Her chest heaves as she inhales, and with a snow-lined breath – the snowflake flutters into the wind, sparkling as it flutters through the air. It drifts towards the water's surface, flipping and twirling beneath the noon sun and melting away like the last frost giving way to spring. With the solemnity of a church service, the audience holds its breath as the snowflake lands on the water with nary a sound. Unlike ordinary snowflakes, this one sinks – and the sigh of relief is palpable amidst the silence.
The Admiral scoffs at the calm waters before him, and the intact ship in the distance.
"Wait, what, that was it?"
Elsa lifts her eyes to the horizon; a breeze whips through her ice-cape, and she waits. The ticking of the ship's chronometer punctuates the silence, along with the squawking of seagulls as they settle upon the abandoned ship's stern. A fain rumble resonates in the distance – so soft and low it would've been lost if the breeze was blowing a little harder. The wooden deck creaks as it vibrates, and the ship lists as the crest of a shallow wave rocks the hull.
All of a sudden, a gushing roar rips through the air as the abandoned ship is lifted high into the air upon a fountain of spray and foam. The men recoil from the bulwark as the water gives way to reveal a snow whale towering over the waves with the wreck of a ship clenched firmly in its jaws. For a moment, the enormity of the whale blots out the sun and casts a shadow upon the fleet. With a violent crunch, the whale snaps its jaws shut and cleaves the hull cleanly in two, eliciting a chorus of delirious exclamations from the men on board.
As quickly as it tore through the hulk, the whale disappears into the sea, leaving the halved wreck sinking into the waters amidst a multitude of bubbles frothing the surface. Elsa clings to the railing as the aftershock slams into the ship and rocks it violently. She looks over at the scientist, with his jaw hanging open and quill rolling off the rostrum.
"Oh, would you stop the time already?" she points at the chronometer, "I think that counts as a sinking!"
The Queen's voice snaps him out of his daze, and he slams his hand upon the clock.
"Trial number two completed," the scientist announces, "Ship sunk in time: thirty-seven seconds!"
No cheer accompanies his announcement, only silence from sleet-faced men staring in disbelief at the empty spot where a ship once laid.
Elsa slips on her gloves and turns to the Admiral, "I think we've had enough violence for today, don't you think?"
He nods slowly, grimacing at the sight of the ship's bowsprit disappearing beneath the waves.
"Your Majesty, we will conduct the debriefing of today's trials together with the chiefs of staff on board the HMAS Norge."
At the mention of the ship's name, the Queen's flashes a look of indignation at the Admiral, before striding off upon a plane of ice.
Elsa's heart clenches as the men row her towards the Norge: the lead ship of a class which was originally meant to encompass a fleet of seven warships; Elsa's parents had died on board the only other ship which was built. Like Elsa and Anna were left behind by the deaths of Arendelle's King and Queen, the HMAS Norge became synonymous with the mourning of their deaths; the sole sister ship of a wreck forever lost to the raging seas. After their passing, she was elevated to an honorary status as the flagship of Arendelle's Navy, and accorded the prestige of carrying what's left of the Royal Family; a privilege Elsa had refused until today.
Her shoulders shudder as the ship's crew lower the gangway for her; she imagines her parents boarding an identical plank of wood to their deaths – entirely without knowledge or anticipation.
"Your Majesty," the General announces, "you may embark the ship."
The gangway turns to ice as she hitches her gown above her ankles and boards. Despite the Arendelle flag fluttering from its mast, and the soldiers clad in ceremonial armour – something about this ship turns Elsa's blood cold.
The General and Admiral follow closely after Elsa, ignoring the ice sprouting beneath her feet; they look at each other as Elsa hesitates on the deck.
"T-The meeting will be held in the officer's wardroom," the General says, rubbing his throat and trying to rid the strain in his voice.
"Please, follow us this way," the Admiral says and directs Elsa below the deck.
Unable to shake the ominous atmosphere making her skin crawl, she follows the men without question. The main passageway had been swept clean in anticipation of the Queen's visit; its orderliness accompanied by a distinct lack of sailors or guards of any sort. Elsa's hair stands on end as she passes a room marked 'Royal Cabin', likely identical to the one her parents drowned in their sleep.
The General and Admiral notice Elsa's distraction, and they allow their steps to falter, walking behind her for the last several paces as she approaches the wardroom. With the thought of her parents' deaths weighing heavily on her mind, she opens the door without hesitating, and gasps as the sight of men already gathered around the meeting table.
The two rows of twelve men rise without bowing, with one standing at the head of the table. Bearing neither deference in their eyes nor humility, they scowl at Elsa with clenched fists. One man leans his head past the rows with a smile plastered on his face; he flashes his teeth at Elsa and waves. A chill surges through her entire body and sleet flakes from her skin as his crop of reddish hair comes into view. She would've noticed that all-too-perfect smile flanked with fiery sideburns anywhere.
You never forget the people who come this close to taking your life away.
The sound of clanking distracts Elsa from the ice forming on her gloves; she whirls around and barely registers the sight of a pair of gauntlets chained to shackles – right before the General smashes them across her skull with a sickening crack.