Author's Note: Quick update because I'm going to be busy with work soon. Hopefully this will hold you guys over for the busy weeks ahead.
Also, I have no idea what I'm doing. Enjoy :)
Identify
Life up the North Mountain was easier than Kristoff initially thought it would be. Elsa's new creations made the place nearly impenetrable and surprisingly hospitable. The help of the trolls for supplies and resources also helped immensely. However, the people were very limited on the kinds of food and other amenities. It's only been a few months, and he found himself missing and craving a nice, roasted fish. Anna was craving chocolate even more so. Eating nuts and berries with the occasional vegetable and even scarcer meat from when someone found the guts to go hunting was alright, but it made one miss what they used to have even more.
But everyone was surviving, and that was all that mattered. The ice city wasn't intended to be permanent, after all. Elsa just needed to buy time to prepare for a confrontation with King Pieter. Whether it was just through means of talking it out or, as Granpabbie had not-so-subtly warned, outright killing him, it was evident that Queen Elsa wasn't yet sure of the details. Fortunately, it didn't seem that their mountaintop sanctuary hadn't been discovered just yet.
Though morale could be a lot better. Being cooped up in one place for too long just wore on a person's spirits. Sure, people were free to come and go as they pleased as long as they had one of the giant snowmen accompany them and they also kept within Elsa's enchanted storm; but it was obvious that it could keep the stir-craziness at bay for so long.
Prince Rasmus went back to tending to the sick (a rather worrying fraction of the population, they didn't appear to be handling the high altitude very well), and surprisingly the twins Jakob and Christian had joined in as well. Even though they decided to show themselves useful, they weren't really hiding the fact that they were rather subdued in their countenances.
Even the Duke of Weselton, with his tendency for the overdramatic, was surprisingly muted. After all, if something were keeping that stubborn man in one spot, what more those who feared for their lives?
That was another thing that made Kristoff beg for the end of staying in the North Mountain: fear. It was like this unspoken agreement that everyone was to be on edge at all times. Granpabbie didn't even try to warn anyone against feeling this way – the queen was the exception, but that was a given. It was probably no use to anyway, considering how things were going back in Arendelle proper. He and the other trolls would come by with news of the outside world when they came by with supplies, each retelling getting darker and more frightening and even more disheartening.
Their homes were completely razed to the ground, the farms were burned, the livestock were culled, even the graves were upturned and desecrated. Then, just a month later, the pixies had arrived to scout alongside the soldiers of the Southern Isles. And even to this day months later, they still were looking.
If he were quite honest with himself, Kristoff hated being up the North Mountain. The "new normal" wasn't something he appreciated, and he couldn't see himself going at it month after month. His family was content that he was doing well, but being paralyzed on top of the feeling of claustrophobia? If it weren't for Anna and her constant cheery presence, he likely would've rolled himself off the mountain a while ago. He wouldn't be surprised if the other villagers would've followed suit.
That is until one of the trolls, Cliff, scurried into the ice fortress outside of the planned time for the trolls to help restock. Kristoff, Anna, and Elsa were busy trying to rearrange the inhabitants in the ice city because a few of them were having arguments with one another.
"H-he's back!" Cliff said, panting as he stumbled in front of Kristoff.
"Who's back?" Kristoff asked.
"The prince! Hans! He's back!"
Upon hearing the name, Elsa clutched at her heart and leaned against an ice wall of one of the living accommodations, staring at the troll in disbelief. The ice behind her began to frost over and lose its smooth texture at her distress.
"That's…" Elsa gasped. "Impossible."
"The Land is with him," the troll continued. "They appear to be blended somehow."
"What?" Anna said. "And they weren't before?"
"No. They were distinct before."
"What is he going to do?" Kristoff said.
"I ran off, expecting him to follow me, but it seems like he's intent on coming here. It's like he knows of this hiding location."
Elsa stared at the ground, then at her hands as she pushed herself back on steady feet from the wall. Without a word, she rushed into her ice palace and frosted the seams to the ice door into a solid, faceted side of the building.
Anna looked on in worry. "She never got to open up about Hans."
"You try to talk to Elsa, I'll see what I can do about Hans," Kristoff said.
"What!? But he might kill you!"
"He might not! Give the guy a bit more credit."
"Are you even sure he's the same guy anymore? He's supposed to be dead, after all."
"Anna." Kristoff looked straight into his wife's eyes. "You're worried about me too much. I'm just going to do a bit of information-gathering." He turned to Cliff. "Did you tell the others yet?"
"I tried, but… they're gone," Cliff responded.
"Gone?"
"I was sent out to try to investigate the disturbance in the forest. Once I saw him and expected him to follow, I ran. Except he didn't follow, so I went back to tell the others. But they were gone. I came straight here, hoping to beat him or interrupt him from making his way here."
"Did you see him again?"
"No. I think he got sidetracked. King Pieter's soldiers were nearby. I was able to go about unseen but I don't think he had the luxury."
"And there's no trace of the others?"
"No."
"Can you think of any reasons why?"
Cliff shook his head, his brows furrowed in worry.
Kristoff looked around him, the citizens who overheard the news frightful and whispering amongst themselves. He pursed his lips.
"Anna," he said. "Stay here. If I haven't returned in a day, expect that we now have two Westergaards to worry about."
"Kristoff, don't—"
Kristoff released the brakes to his wheelchair and called for Sven as he began to coast downslope to the front of the icy enclosure. Anna and Cliff called out and ran after him, the distance between them and the blond increasing as Kristoff began to pick up speed. Off to the side, Sven matched his speed. Kristoff pushed himself off the wheeled contraption with all the strength he could, sending him flying onto the back of the reindeer. The force made the chair tip over and clatter, rolling and tumbling without its passenger.
His body shook with adrenaline, his thoughts berating him for going off to do something that could possibly get him killed, but his heart rushed with excitement.
If he learned anything in the few months of staying in the North Mountain, it was that Kristoff was useless without the ability to walk. He couldn't help with restocking. He couldn't help with fortifications. Sure, Anna and Elsa tried to help with trying to give him administrative tasks.
But no. That kind of stuff wasn't what he was suited for. He was a man of action, not a man of words. Yes, he would have moments of imparting wisdom like everyone else, but he didn't feel fulfilled unless he was out there working, putting his body and his strength to good use. Perhaps the citizens didn't see him just as a lame man, perhaps his wife and his sister-in-law easily saw past his disability...
He knew they meant well. But as it went, "an idle mind is the devil's playground." Kristoff was nothing but idle.
This, however, was his chance. This he knew he could do on his own. Err, relatively on his own. Not counting Sven, he was doing this on his own. He could be useful once again. Yeah, Elsa had the magic and Anna had the bravery; there was one thing they couldn't claim to have: being raised by magical beings. (That, and knowing how to survive in the wild, of course.)
Kristoff raced past the fortified walls, the soldiers and snowmen looking on at him from their posts. He instructed Sven to gallop close to one of the soldiers and snatched a sword out of its sheath, its owner grunting in surprise. One of the snowmen broke formation to accompany him (as he was instructed to do by the queen whenever anyone left the enclosure). Kristoff patted Sven on the neck to slow a little to let their bodyguard have a chance to catch up.
After all, he wasn't an idiot. Yes, this was probably a stupid decision, but he still wasn't an idiot.
Hopefully he was the best one to meet Hans (or whatever seemed to take his identity) instead of Anna and her impulsiveness, and Elsa with her broken heart.
Also, even though he wouldn't openly admit it, he missed Hans. The guy ended up being one of the very few people he would call a friend. And as a friend, he felt it was his duty to welcome him back to the living, or kill him if it turned out his body was not under his control anymore; anger of the land be damned.
Kristoff just hoped it wouldn't come down to that.
###
As soon as he made it to the base of the North Mountain, Hans slowed Sitron down to a canter. He hissed when he tested his ankle out. That thing was definitely broken.
Sadly, unlike before, I'm unable to mend this wound, the land said. Agh, how do mortals deal with the pain?
"Medicine or a bit of rum if you're in a pinch," Hans hissed, not wanting to think.
We have none.
"Then we just wait it out."
That's unacceptable.
"Too bad. Now let me concentrate. We need to get to the North Mountain, right?" Hans looked into the distance, straining his eyes to the snowy peak where he was told Elsa stayed.
Yes. She has enchanted the area to be hidden from plain sight, though I'm closer to this plane than the one I'm from, I still have an attachment to the earth. I sense her ice at the top of the mountain. The two spirits I sent out helped me to confirm this.
"Is it so hard to learn names? The one with the family resemblance is Klaus, but considering that only family can call him that, call him Prince Klaus. The other one is Mikelo, or Count Mikelo if you want to be respectful."
Names are sacred. If you're not granted permission to utter them by its owner, it can throw balance off.
"Over here, not addressing people by what they prefer to be called is considered impolite. I don't think saying any of our names are going to imbalance anything. Not saying them is a bit annoying, though. Kind of gives off the feeling that we don't matter."
A momentary pause. Then, Alright, Prince Hans. That better?
"Better. And what should I call you?"
Amh'skelajas.
"A nickname at least? Sometimes I might not have enough time to say that many syllables."
Another pause. There was once a time I was called Jorden.
"Jorden? Really? Not really a creative—"
You have a problem with it?
Hans resisted the urge to laugh. "Nope. Jorden it is."
Suddenly, the rhythmic sound of hooves galloping accentuated in the air, the ground shook with a similar rhythm. Hans instructed Sitron to halt as he gripped the scythe tightly. He scanned the slope that led up the mountain warily and saw two figures approaching them. As they drew closer, Hans could make out a reindeer trying to outrun a giant...
Snowman?
Hans sat frozen atop Sitron, the horse snorting and whinnying in worry. It wasn't until Sitron began backing up where Hans snapped out of it and began turning the horse around to avoid the snowman barreling down the mountain.
"Wait!" a voice called in the distance. "Hans! Wait!"
That sounded like... Kristoff?
Hans looked back to the reindeer running away from the frightening snowman in terrifying realization. Upon closer inspection, he could see the familiar shock of blonde hair held close to the neck of the reindeer. As they drew closer, the familiar build of his friend grew in detail.
Kristoff was in danger.
Forget about him! He's tainted with troll magic. They should help him, not us, the land argued.
Um, no. Hans was not going to listen to that nonsense. He could feel the land trying to push back against his consciousness to take control, but unlike the times before he died (Did he really die? It was strange to think about it like that), he found it relatively easy to push back.
Fine, the land relented. Summon a landslide. Cut it off.
"How?"Hans asked.
Just do it! You want stay in control? You're not getting my help.
Going in blind with all this land-magic nonsense was going to get them actually killed one day. After all, it didn't do so well with Elsa until she went and found counsel with the trolls. Even with his "mentor" literally sharing the same body with him, Hans knew next to nothing about what he was doing.
Regardless, Hans hopped off the back of Sitron, making sure not to land on his bad ankle, and cut the scythe's blade into the ground. A surge of energy flooded out of him.
And suddenly it was like he could feel the mountain before him. As if he was the mountain. Every pebble, every speck of dust the mountain was made of; it was as if he knew where they were, how long they were there. A feeling of a wound at his crown pierced into him, the feeling of footsteps stomping where the wound originated, the feeling of millions of other footsteps around him of animals and insects moving around...
A mental yank brought him back to the base of the mountain, his body once again under control of the land.
You idiot, the land berated. Not like that! You want your consciousness to get lost far away from here? You're lucky you went to the mountain instead of to the center of the earth, or else your soul would've been lost for eternity and I would disappear with you!
Do I seem like I know what I'm doing? No! Hans berated back.
The land growled and shook his head. He drove the end of the handle of the scythe into the cut that Hans made with one hand. With the other, he pointed to where Kristoff was outrunning the snowman, turned the hand into an open palm, then yanked it into a closed fist toward his body. A roar and a rumble began and a landslide formed underneath both the snowman's and the reindeer's footsteps. With a twist of a wrist, the landslide underneath the snowman careened off the edge of a cliff.
Thought I'd help your friend along, the land commented when Hans tried to protest against what seemed like something that would harm Kristoff.
As Kristoff drew closer to Hans, his face wasn't formed in delight or fear but of determination and anger. It took only a moment before the landslide stopped and Sven jumping close to them when the land ducked from the swipe of a sword dangerously close to his neck.
"Whatever you are, you can't have my friend!" Kristoff screamed before he fell off of Sven to tackle him to the floor. "Go back to wherever you're from!"
Sitron made a move to protect his master, but Sven intercepted the horse. The two circled around each other, facing off. Kristoff's attention briefly went from Hans to the two beasts. Hans took this opportunity to take over again, using both hands to try to keep the sword from doing any damage.
"Kristoff!" Hans said. "It's me! Stop!"
"You can't fool me, monster!" Kristoff growled, yanking his arm from Hans' grip and trying another swipe. This time, Hans used the handle of the scythe to keep the sword away.
"Really! Kristoff! It's me, Hans! At least let me prove it before I end up dying again!"
Kristoff scrunched a suspicious brow, but relaxed his shoulders anyway. The pressure of the blade against the handle lessened, enough pressure to still worry Hans, but not enough where the sword would slip and stab him before he could get a word in edgewise.
###
It all happened so fast. One moment, Kristoff's heart filled with hope at the sight of seeing Hans atop Sitron. After all, animals were good judges of character, right? If there was anything off about him, Sitron wouldn't have been happy with being ridden. He called out when it looked like Hans was going to turn around and run off again.
But then the landslide happened, one that was obviously started by Hans. The snowman that was guarding him was sent to plummet off the side of the mountain. It was a miracle that Sven was able to keep himself upright as they slid down the rest of the way to the bottom of the mountain.
Kristoff didn't need any more confirmation; whoever it was that was doing this was not Hans.
The next thing he knew, he had tackled him to the ground, ready to kill. He almost flinched back when he remembered Hans' curse, but when his hands made contact with his own and nothing happened, it only fueled Kristoff's anger even more. Kristoff pulled back his arm and made another swing, the sword making a crack against the wood of the scythe's handle. But hearing Hans' voice pleading for him to stop, it made him realize what he was doing.
Never in his life had Kristoff killed anyone. Was he ready to do it?
He took a good look at the man before him. Sure, he looked like his friend, even though practically half of his hair was white, and he sounded like him. What could he ask him to know for sure he wasn't being fooled?
"Let's start easy," Kristoff started, not easing his handle on the sword, but allowing a bit of slack so he wouldn't kill prematurely. "What's my last name?"
"Bjorgman," came the reply.
"Who's my wife?"
"Princess Anna of Arendelle."
"What is my reindeer's name?"
"Sven."
"Who are your brothers?"
"All of them?"
"Yes. And in birth order."
"There's King Pieter. Then the Princes: Holger, Magnus, Anders, Lars, twins Jakob then Christian, Niels, Rasmus, Klaus, Elias, and finally Aleksander."
This was frustrating. He needed to ask a question that only the real, living Hans would know the answer to. There was no telling that whoever who hijacked Hans' identity would know these facts. He looked at the white hair before him, then he looked to the peak of the North Mountain. Subjective question it was, then.
"Who is Queen Elsa of Arendelle to you?" Kristoff asked.
Maybe-not-Hans shut his eyes, the force keeping Kristoff's sword at bay slackening a little.
"Queen Elsa is..." he responded, Hans' voice wavering ever so slightly. "I don't know who she is to me. She breathed life into me when I should've been dead long ago. She showed me what it means to love, to forgive, to hope. My heart tears itself into pieces when I see her upset. Being away from her just makes me fight for any reason to see her again. I... am afraid to love her, but it's a feeling that I'm afraid to lose. There's too much I just... I don't know who Elsa is to me. I don't have the words to describe it."
"Oh my..." Kristoff dropped the sword to the side and held onto Hans' shoulders. Hans did the same with the scythe. "You're alive! Oh, thank heavens, you're alive!"
"I won't be if you keep crushing my lungs with your body weight."
"Oh! Sorry, sorry." Kristoff rolled off of him. Hans pulled himself to his feet, clearly favoring one over the other, and reached out to Kristoff as if to help him off the floor.
"I, uh..." Kristoff off to his side. "I can't walk."
"What?"
"I can't use my legs anymore. I usually get around on a wheelchair now."
Hans looked to Kristoff, a blank expression on his face.
"The tower..." Hans trailed off.
"Yeah. It wasn't your fault though."
Hans' face went from a blank expression to a stern look. "I apologize. I did not intentionally send that tower to crush you, but it was I who caused it."
That wasn't Hans' voice.
Kristoff grabbed the sword beside him and pointed it warily at Hans. Not-Hans.
"Be still, Christopher, I mean no harm," the warped voice said, hands placating. A thoughtful look, then, "Kristoff."
"Who are you?" Kristoff said, his heart leaping into his throat.
"I was Amh'skelajas, but as I share this mortal form, you may refer to me as 'Jorden' since Prince Hans insists that the former name is much too hard to remember."
That name... Kristoff knew he was explicitly told by his family to never, ever say it. But he did know what it meant.
"So 'that-which-is-between-death-and-hell' to just simply 'Jorden.'" Kristoff had to resist laughing, but a small snicker did escape.
"Prince Hans also finds this amusing for some reason. I do not find making an apology something to find amusement in. It is a matter of grave importance."
A subtle change occurred.
"Sorry, um," Hans said, his normal voice back, the prince rubbing a hand against the back of his head. "So the craziest thing happened when I got killed..."
"I think you should tell me when we're on the way up the mountain."
Author's Note: I repeat my sentiment in the author's note at the beginning of the chapter – I have no idea what I'm doing. I mean, I kinda know what's going to happen, but what I'm writing to go about it? I'm not sure if it's working, but I'm getting there.
Also, just felt like updating earlier than expected. Despite not knowing what I'm doing, writing came exceptionally easy this time. And just in time, too, since it looks like I'm going to be busy for a while. Might as well take advantage of the spare time I have to update this, yes?
Thanks to those who reviewed last chapter! They made me smile, and I probably looked like a dork doing it; but hey, given the week I've been having, I'll take it.
My drama sense is tingling. I dunno though. I might be wrong. (*hint hint*)
###
Amh'skelajas – My made up language: literally "Between death hell (noun)" but Kristoff's translation is pretty close.
Jorden – Multiple Scandinavian Languages: "Earth (or something equivalent, hey, the only other language I know is French, and that's barely five years of study)."
Yeah, probably not a great simplified name to give the land. Oh well, it's now been written in stone. *badum tish* And now you guys understand why I named King Pieter "Pieter."
Peter = Stone. Get it? Stone? He wants to take Jorden's place? Earth?
I'll see myself out now.
(This is what I get when I try to be clever, haha)