Rumors of plots...rid Arendelle of the merman prince.
It was all simply talk, to which Elsa gave no credit to. That is until Hans mentioned Anna and Kristoff's concerns regarding it, in passing.
Elsa scoffed. Naturally. Simply talk.
Then Hans pointed out that the significant financial loss from the cessation whaling may drive a man to such extremes - addled by fear of magic. It will be an industry lost. Those few archaic, small-minded and greedy Lords who are inflexible and stagnate just need to resign from their station, for they are leading the way with poisonous words. Men suspicious and fearful of a merman not just in Arendelle, but of a status beside their Sorceress Queen (who's already proven she can ruin them financially all thanks to her Eternal Winter). It's all whispers now - spreading like rot and echoing her mind in the still of night. Hans had assured he was fine, and no such collusion would be successful. No worries.
Hans should really know her better than that. Elsa has felt a disconcerted unease all evening (entirely his fault), and for this reason she took to the night's festivities with gusto in an attempt to extinguish it. In retrospect, perhaps it was poor etiquette to indulge in the libations as she had.
Elsa now admits that the third glass of champagne was a horrible decision, because now she's drunk. Her usual mental filters are completely gone, as a result she just blurts out whatever crosses her foggy mind as Anna would.
Like a reflex, I love you tried to tumble out her mouth at Hans - Elsa thoughtlessly discarding her own command regard such a declaration. She'd been left embarrassed and disappointed in herself and her blatant disregard of what she has asked of Hans. She'd been left with Hans' suggestion to sleep. It felt like punishment. Really, in the end, all the champagne got her was a loosen tongue and a few blissful moments without inhibitions before being sent to bed by her siren, all alone. And she and can't do this...
Elsa stands in the darkness of her bedchamber, with nothing but her own reflection staring back at her through wavy panes of glass as she looks out over the fjord. The night sky and restless sea are behind the glass, and like a mirror Elsa finds an icy enchantress just as dark and restless (her own drunken fault, really).
Hans said he still had a few dignitaries to finish talks with before retiring for the night. She foolishly encouraged him to fulfill his duties, not thinking things through to their natural conclusion. Instead, she felt ridiculously pleased at Hans' ability at the political games of court. Elsa's encouragement did nothing but get her alone.
Stupid alcohol.
To top it all off, the silence of her bedchamber is drowning her. Elsa realizes how absolutely absurd that is - but the silence is heavy and crushing and every fiber of her is calling out for him to soothe this. After all this time, after everything, it seems asinine that longing for him causes such pain. Like being robbed of the very air she breathes. Because weren't they past this?
Elsa raises a single finger to the glass and with a tap she allows her hoarfrost to paint the panes. After silent and still moments of unsatisfyingly staring at the resulting frozen fractals, Elsa huffs, frustrated when her display of ice fails to help alleviate the unease swirling inside, and waves fingers to recall the ice back to wherever it is it comes from.
Get it together...get it together.
Don't feel...don't feel.
With the window cleared of ice, Elsa finds (much to her dismay) Hans. The prince has materialized out on the sand of the fjord's beach. He's alone, and she distantly wonders if she now has power to conjure him from thin air. Hans is still dressed as she last saw him; in his Southern Isle's regalia with more layers than she can likely account for, spine straight and formal as he strides to where the rocks jut out into calm pools of ocean below.
Elsa watches as Hans stops; in a swift movement he kneels - his eyes fixed to the water. His lips pull a smirk, then he's seen speaking out over the fjord.
A handful of mermaids appear, breaching the surface in unison as if in an aquatic dance. Each of them is pleasing to the eye in their own way; beauty only accentuated by the rays of moonlight as they move fluidly about with the waves. Their loose hair is adorned with jewels and shells, all which glisten and sparkle as the mermaids swim in the celestial light as if on display for him.
Hans smiles at the boldest of the mermaids in that playful manner he has - the charming one - the one that Elsa hates to find directed at anyone other than her.
He's flirting.
One of the mermaids, that brazenly bold one of particularly fair complexion swims closest to Hans. She has a tail fin of luminescent turquoise scales and breasts poorly contained behind golden shells (lewdly, in Elsa's opinion). The mermaid gestures to Hans in a manner that Elsa interprets as invitation for something torrid.
(Or a swim. But Elsa decides that the intention of the gesture is something wildly vulgar. Because, yah: three flutes of champagne.)
Elsa feels her blood boil at the sight, Hans sharing that smile with anyone else but her. Especially with that watery little tart.
That little tart of a mermaid seems to believe Hans is interested in her. Or interested in swimming, (champagne says the former and not the latter), because she offers a wry smile and a splash of water at him, which he playfully deflects.
Elsa looks closer, contemplating just how good her aim might be from this great distance should she try to direct a spike of ice at the impudent little hussy, and realizes there is a merman there.
Elsa blinks. Wait. How much has she had to drink?
Yes, he is a merman. Moonlight plays off his golden coronet, distinguishing his station - he must fall in line for the throne of the undersea kingdom, Elsa realizes. A cousin?
She's not yet met the merfolk of Hans' family - those introductions occurs tomorrow - and so Elsa finds herself immediately suspicious and angry for an entirely different reason. Hans failed to mention any plans to meet with anyone from the sea tonight. She watches as Hans turns, then stands, now with something large and wet in his hands.
The jealous, selfish little voice inside her - the one that she keeps carefully boxed away - is shouting at her to go to Hans. Confront and assert herself. She never listens to that voice, but the champagne has this lingering effect of forgotten prudence. So Elsa considers just how to get down to the fjord the quickest.
Elsa fails realize how much time she's spent pondering her next move, aside from recreating her icy gown once more and pacing the rug with ire.
A knock on the back bedchamber door - the hidden one that only few know of, startles her. It elicits a small yelp as her hands ball into fists, clutched tightly to her chest as she whips around.
Elsa halts, then starts toward the hidden door. She'd always been told that passage was only for emergencies, such as time to evacuate the castle kind of emergencies. She's never actually had anyone use it. Till now.
Elsa cautiously disengages the latch, free hand ready to unleash her curse upon whomever stands behind the wood. She peers cautiously around the crack to find Kai holding a lantern and Gerda just behind him with a bundle of drab fabric in her arms. Elsa drops her hand at the ready to attack, and swings the secret door wide.
Gerda dips into a curtsy, eyes heavy and nervous and fixed to the floor beneath Elsa's feet, "Your Majesty. Prince Hans will be staying in the passage room for the night."
Elsa must be wearing a confused expression as she adds, "For his safety."
That snaps Elsa's mind back. "What?"
Kai nods, motioning behind him.
Elsa's stomach sinks, feeling retched for the petty jealously just moments earlier as Hans steps forward. "Hans? Are you okay?"
After an unsteady heartbeat, Elsa realizes the man is not actually Hans, yet appears exceedingly familiar - size and coloring an exact match. A doppelgänger. He comes into the dim lamp light and bows. "This is Bjorn. He will be Hans' decoy in his chambers for tonight."
Elsa's eyes sweep over the man with immense embarrassment, understanding exactly why Gerda may have insisted Elsa be informed of this plan. If Elsa didn't know any better, she'd likely have crawled into bed with this man without a second thought.
Curiosity strikes at Elsa regarding how the guards identified a decoy-Hans so readily. In the next heartbeat Elsa realizes her darling siren likely had a hand in this. It would seem like something he'd do (she vaguely wonders who her decoy may be, certainly Hans has that figured out as well).
"Wait," Elsa gestures to the windows overlooking the fjord. "Hans is on the beach. He is unaware of any imminent threat."
There is a muffled response from the dark passage, somewhere behind the decoy-Hans, and Elsa realizes that the Captain of her personal guard is also in the hidden tunnel. Elsa huffs, wondering just how many more are crammed into the narrow tunnels. This is decidedly awkward.
She impatiently motions for everyone out of the secret passage and into her chamber as they attempt to brief her. Elsa takes in the staff in her chambers. Scanning the group, Hans is not among them.
"The plot rumored to take action tonight, against Hans," Elsa says cautiously, "is in motion?"
As her Captain comes before her. The older gentleman genuflects and says in a clipped tone, "Prince Hans was secured as he returned through the scullery. He is already safe in the passage room. My men are posted."
The expression her Captain wears is like iced water dripping down her spine, sobering. Elsa's eyes dart to Gerda and the bundle in her arms.
"I am to be moved as well?"
The room is silent. Elsa wonders why on earth this is a hard question to answer.
"It is a yes or a no."
Gerda and Elsa both seem to study the rather awkward shifting of sharp shoulders into wilting men around the room. Gerda rolls her eyes.
"Your Majesty, that is up to you." Gerda hurries beside Elsa, "But if I may, given where your nerves have been for the last few days, it may be best for you not to be so near to the danger. Better for you to be close to his highness, ma'am."
Gerda's eyes hint at something scandalous.
"Ah." It is all Elsa's drunk mind can think to say. Embarrassment burns at her cheeks.
Gerda offers the drab brown gown and cap to Elsa to don with an understanding smile. The old woman knows bloody everything, and her smile seems to say Elsa would be found with Hans before the night is out, regardless of what was arranged. Elsa frowns as she considers the awful frock and the old woman who knows far too much.
Well then. Next issue. "Does Anna know what is going on?"
Elsa's Captain clears his throat, "No , ma'am. And it was thought best not to inform her unless absolutely necessary." He exchanges glances with Kai. "Forgive me, but the Princess is terrible with any sort of intrigue. Olaf could manage it more successfully than her."
Elsa raises an eyebrow, although he has a valid point. Alright. "Anything else?"
"You will be notified when the suspects are in custody," the Captain says efficiently. "Likely no later than sunrise."
Elsa nods, and proceeds to change into the drab frock to move into hiding. The adrenaline seems to have flushed the alcohol from her mind, and she completely forgets her jealousy and ire with Hans. There is a bitter taste in her mouth, heart clenching and aching, throat thick with breath and voice stuck inside until she arrived in the safety of the passage room.
Elsa finds her Prince wearing a familiar expression of satisfaction at getting his own way as he greets her at the door.
"Fancy meeting you here, my Queen." Hans practically coos as they are left in the silence of the secret quarters, quite alone.
She then realizes this entire scenario may well have been orchestrated by Hans, for his own amusement.
A/N: Thank you all for your words of encouragement - you helped me feel a bit better. For that, I am grateful.