The line "crap rainbows and unicorns" was a reference to one of Hans' jokes from Chapter 13, in case anyone needs a refresher!
Anyways, Jon's suspicions will continue to grow. He has been in Weselton for two years now.
Chapter 25:
Eight year-old Robert pouted and stamped his feet angrily. "But Mommy, I want to go!" he whined. "Why can't I go ice-harvesting with Uncle Kristoff?"
The Snow Queen felt her heart break. The poor child had lost his father and brother. Right now, the last thing he needed was someone asserting control and restricting his autonomy, when he was already at his most vulnerable. But just thinking of Fredrik made her remember what had happened the last time she said yes to him. "Robbie, ice-harvesting is very hard and dangerous."
"But I want to go!" Robbie's tone became louder and more assertive as he continued stomping around.
"Why don't we go read a story or play a game?" Elsa suggested. "Or we could build a snowman?"
Robbie shook his head vigorously. "No! I'm gonna go ice-harvesting, and that's final. You can't keep bossing me around like that." The stubbornness in his voice was so reminiscent of young Anna.
Elsa spoke pleadingly. "Robbie, please be reasonable. We lost Jon two years ago, and before that we lost Daddy. I don't know what I would do if something happened to you. Please… just listen to me. Ice-harvesting is not a game."
"It's not fair!" Robbie continued to argue. "You won't let me do anything fun, just because you're so scared that bad things will happen!"
"How about I come with you?" Elsa attempted to compromise. "We can sit on the side and watch. It will be just as fun."
"But I want to do it too!" Robbie whined. "I want to step onto the lake and cut a big block of ice myself! I know how to do it! I've seen Uncle Kristoff do it a bajillion times!"
"Robbie, I'm sorry but it's far too dangerous. Maybe we could try when you're a little older." Elsa gently insisted.
"It's not hard!" The child protested. "All you have to do is swing the big knife thing into the ice. Then you pick it up. It's easy!"
"It only looks easy because Uncle Kristoff has a lifetime of experience. But you've never done it before. The ice is very thick and heavy, and it's really hard to cut through. A lot of people sprain their back or shoulders. The ice you stand on also becomes brittle, and you could fall into the lake."
"If I fall into the lake, they can just pull me out."
"Robbie, no." Elsa continued to assert firmly but gently. "We can stand on the side and watch, but that's it. You could freeze to death within seconds if you fell into the lake."
"No you can't!" Robbie insisted. "You're just saying that because you don't want me to go."
Elsa's patience was wearing thin. "Robert, you aren't being reasonable. If you keep acting like this, I can't let you go at all."
"It's not fair!" Robbie screamed, his face red and scrunched up with anger. "You're mean!"
"Robert, go to your room." Elsa ordered firmly. "Now."
"You're mean! I hate you!" He stomped on his mother's foot as hard as he could.
Elsa's winced in pain as she furiously massaged the bruise that was beginning to form. "Do you need a spanking, young man?"
Tears of anger and indignation streamed down the boy's cheeks. "You mean the same way Jon needed a spanking?" He retaliated cruelly.
Elsa felt her heart shatter at those words. "Robbie, wait, I didn't mean—"
Too late. The eight year-old was already running out the door with his face buried in both hands.
Robert stomped angrily into the stables, where Kristoff was munching on a carrot. "I'm coming with you!" His voice betrayed that he had been screaming and crying very recently.
Kristoff raised his eyebrows. "Didn't Mommy say she was coming too?"
The boy shook his head. "No, she changed her mind. She said I can go by myself," he lied.
The youngest prince of Arendelle had never been a convincing liar. Besides, Kristoff knew that Elsa would never have agreed to such an arrangement. "Robbie, what did Mommy really say?"
Robert sighed. He knew he had been foiled. "Mommy said we could go," he admitted. "But she said I could only stand on the side and watch. She wouldn't let me do it. Then I got mad. I wish Mommy would go away… she's so mean and bossy."
"Robbie, don't talk like that," Kristoff scolded. "Your mother is only trying to protect you. Ice-harvesting is very dangerous. In fact, you have to be at least thirteen years old and weigh a hundred pounds, to become an apprentice. It's too easy for younger kids to get hurt."
"But it looks so easy…" Robbie's tone became less forceful and argumentative. Now he was speaking not to an overprotective mother, but to a true expert on the subject.
Kristoff smiled and ducked back into the stable. He fumbled about for a few seconds, before emerging with an armful of equipment. "Here, try holding this." He held out a strange-looking metal contraption in one hand.
With eyes shining, Robbie seized the handles and tried to swing it over his head. The device was much heavier than it looked. He couldn't even lift it an inch, as he began toppling forward. Kristoff quickly steadied him and effortlessly grabbed the steely apparatus.
"You see Robbie, it's a lot harder than it looks. This thing weighs about forty pounds. Cutting ice is not like cutting a slice of cake. I promise that when you're a little older, I'll show you how to do it."
"I guess you're right…" Robbie mumbled. A wave of guilt washed over him, as he recalled his earlier behavior. "I'm sorry I told Mommy that I hate her."
Kristoff knelt to the boy's level and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You should tell that to Mommy, instead of me. Go on, now." As Robbie turned to leave, Kristoff gave him some final words. "You're lucky to have a mother who cares so much about you."
Jon narrowed his eyes and leaned in for a better look, as he crept along row after row of books in the library. For the seventh consecutive night, that strange woman had appeared in his dreams. There was an eerie sense of familiarity about her. From her face and clothes, to her voice and mannerisms.
The twelve year-old was absolutely certain that he had seen this mysterious woman before. But where? He racked his brains, but came up empty.
Perhaps he had seen her face in some newspaper lying around. Or perhaps it was one of the books his tutor had assigned? Maybe she was a character in one of the children's books or fairy tales he'd read in the past? The boy steadied the icy blue light in his palms as he knelt down to pull a few books from the shelf.
The French Revolution… The Protestant Reformation… The Enlightenment… The Age of Exploration… John Locke… Thomas Hobbes… Jon scanned over the neat row of books. Nope. None of these seemed to ring a bell.
Jon sighed with frustration. Why couldn't he remember where he'd seen her before? Nothing was more aggravating than a wisp of memory that tauntingly danced just barely beyond the scope of recollection. That mysterious woman had haunted him for long enough, and he was determined to get to the bottom of this.
A strip of moonlight illuminated a desk on the other side of the room. This was where his tutor usually gave him history lessons. Books and papers were still strewn across the tabletop. Temporarily distracted, Jon tread softly across the thick carpet and picked up a random book. He thumbed nonchalantly through the yellowed pages. Until a bolded headline and a black-and-white illustration caught his eye.
Queen Elsa of Arendelle. Jon gritted his teeth with disgust. According to all his tutors and everyone he'd ever spoken to, that wicked witch had single-handedly destroyed their peaceful nation. She was a masterful schemer, and unparalleled in her vast ability to deceive and manipulate. No matter how outlandish her lies and how nefarious her intentions, she could always steer anyone into believing whatever she wanted them to.
Because of Elsa Frostberg and the lies that she spoke, Weselton lost every single one of its trade partners and military allies. In the past fifteen years, crime and poverty had increased, literacy had plummeted, and infant mortality had tripled. A few years ago, Weselton suffered through a devastating famine. Other kingdoms had prepared to send them aid. But through the clever use of propaganda, the witch managed to dissuade them all. Forty percent of the kingdom's children starved to death that year.
Jon continued leafing through hundreds of pages of text, describing in vivid detail all the terrible things she had ever done. His tutors had never failed to emphasize how cruel and heartless the witch was. In fact, Jon could hardly go outside without hearing people wishing death upon the wicked Snow Queen. But something didn't feel quite right.
"She doesn't look evil," Jon thought aloud, as he stared at a portrait of Elsa at her coronation. "She looks like a nice person, actually."
Jon was so immersed in his reading, he paid no heed as a door creaked open and soft footsteps padded across the carpet. Moments later, a scrawny hand landed on his shoulder.
The boy jumped in surprise. Staring him in the eye was a rather flustered and disgruntled Duke.
"Sleepwalking?" The gray-haired man asked with a hint of sarcasm. Before Jon could respond, he reached over Jon's shoulder to flip through the book he had been reading.
"Amusing woman, isn't she?"
Jon looked up at him. "Queen Elsa did a lot of bad things, didn't she?"
The Duke nodded emphatically. "Indeed she has. The witch could cure smallpox and polio and end slavery in the British Empire, but even that wouldn't be enough to save her. Perhaps Saint Peter would at least apologize before throwing her putrid, rotting soul into Hell for all eternity."
Then the Duke raised his eyebrows and stared quizzically at Jon. "What are you doing here?"
Jon shrugged. "I couldn't sleep, for some reason." He was twelve years old, far too old to be kept awake by something so silly. The boy wasn't about to admit he was having nightmares.
"Fair enough. But why so curious about her? Haven't your tutors told you everything there is to know about the witch?"
Jon nodded. "Yeah, I've learned all about the Snow Queen… but it does kind of amaze me how someone who looks so innocent could do so many terrible things." He rubbed his eyes and yawned.
"Appearances can be deceiving, my boy," the Duke chuckled. "Now, why don't I go fetch you a glass of milk? It will help you sleep."
The Duke slithered into the kitchen to pour Jon a glass of cold milk. Then he glanced left and right, revealing that he was indeed all alone. Snickering to himself, he pulled a half-empty glass vial from his pocket, and let a steady stream of trickle into the thick white liquid.
The conniving little weasel stopped to admire his handiwork. "Perfect," he whispered to himself. "This ought to wipe out every last wisp of memory the boy may have about his witch of a mother. We can't have him asking questions or snooping around, can we?"
Jon drained the glass of milk without another thought, and slept peacefully through the night. Never again did the strange woman appear in his dreams. Before long, she had completely vanished into the sands of time.
Will Jon ever regain his memories of the past? Will he ever learn the truth? Stay tuned!