We do not own 'Frozen' or any of its characters.
"Frozen Again: 'Love Never Ends"
Act IX
Chapter 53
"Daddy's Girls"
The end of the Gler's long and romantic journey for these two affianced couples signified the beginning of the new and exciting one about to open in sunny Rio de Janeiro.
As the Norwegian craft headed into the Guanabara Porto on schedule, just past noontime into the scenic Bay, Elsa found herself instantly enraptured by the green and vibrant summer beauty thereof.
"Didn't I tell you the weather in Paraiso would be divine?!" It was everything and more than Princess Valentina described in a hoarse, yet recuperating, whisper. She knew that her friend who hailed from the frosty winter clime would be awed by the breathtaking vista of this renowned "bosom of the sea".
The beautiful view of the dozens of verdant green islands in the backdrop each displayed swaying palm trees that dotted the Duque de Cazias on its eastern shore. Flanked by the Sugarloaf Mountain range of Pao de Azucar, to the tranquil blue blue waters of the shimmering Baia de Guanabara, the Kingdom of Paraiso was beautiful.
The Ice Queen who ruled the Winter North could only imagine such summertime beach splendor in this bright, vivid and richly flamboyant southern section of the equator.
As for her friendly snowman who had come along for this once-in-a-lifetime ride, Olaf stood on the deck with his slushy jaw dropped in awe as the ship entered into the sun drenched quay in the oceanic Guanabara Bay location.
"Wow! Just take a look at all the real people sunbathing on those island beaches, Elsa! I can't wait to hit the burning sands with Eliana! Come on, Just Hans! Bring this baby into dock quick quick, so we can all go skinny dipping!" In his naïveté in overhearing the stark swimming term from roguish big brother Didrik and crass Prince Alonso's conversations just this morning, Olaf impatiently hops onto the foremast of the HmNos Gler.
The eager snowman looked more like a fitting decorative head mast to the vessel hailing from the Scandinavian kingdom in the North seas than a being that belonged on a beach.
"Midshipman, please man your post." Kommander Westergaard had previously noticed his bedazzled Queen's sudden distress at seeing her snowy friend precariously perched atop the ship's foremast where he could easily plunge into the warm waters in the steamship's churning wake.
"Aye aye, Captain! I mean Vise Admiral!" Olaf sings pleasantly with a salute up at Hans to scurry back across the foredeck. The snowman had mastered shimmying down and hauling himself up to the crow's nest lookout like a pro after a few practical instructions from the Gler's fastidious chief officer.
Thank you. Elsa mouths with a grateful smile to her betrothed who could always smooth over her frustrations and fears, including Olaf's dangerous lumps and bumps.
"Your Majesty." Hans stiffly bows in a cool, detached response to Elsa's obvious adoration, causing her vibrant smile to slightly falter.
"However, your snowman does have the right idea about the wild goings-on in sunny Paraiso. At least, since last I was there. I can attest that the swimming is highly recommended on these fragrant beaches. Not to mention the… ahem… skinny dipping attractions which I have attended on many family visits in the past, of course." With a culpable grin and churlish smile, Prince Didrik's words titillate the Queen of Arendelle to giggle.
"Ahem." But her currently somewhat standoffish boyfriend, who obviously woke up on the wrong side of his empty bed, frowns at his crude brethren.
"With your excellent physiques, I highly recommend you both participate in the scenic frivolities while you're here, your Majesty, Lillebror." The caddish older man ignores Hans' disdain and lowers his roving eye upon Elsa's sylphlike frame. Her own gaze made a pretty conjunction with his younger brother Hans' slender, yet sinewy muscular build in all the right, pleasing to the eye places that well would fit in on the Brazilian beach scene.
"I, for one, would not need much convincing to have some Brazilian beach time after these past few months I've been visiting the frozen tundra. Brrr! My blood still goes cold when I remember that spooky Snow Queen's kingdom on a remote iceberg at the godforsaken top of the world." Prince Alonso declares in his sulky way after the Córdoban man had gently escorted his fever recovering fiancée to the top deck as Valentina wished to watch this lead ship coming to her hometown seaport.
And my Valentine's wish is my command.
"So, you prefer my beaches to the snow fields, Alonsy?" Princess Valentina softly whispers with a pleased smile tracing her dry lips. She leans into her fiancé for bodily support in the nook of Alonso's stabilizing arm that had patiently led her up stairs to the top deck.
"You'll find out just how much I do in one more day, my pretty Valentine." The Argentine seductively murmurs in his betrothed's ear joined by a tender nibble that sends the weak of body Princess of Paraiso's heart affirmatively racing.
"You know what is worse than a quarrelsome couple, Lillebror?" Prince Didrik, in low tones, poses the question with a raised quirky brow at the reconciled pair of South American lovers.
"An ooey-gooey, lovey-dovey pair who can't keep their hands off one another in public. Please tell me as soon as it is permissible to leave this sappy love boat of yours." The debonair Danish dandy delivers the trite response, followed by a wince for the pain his flippant hand leaning against the deck railing caused.
"But knowing my clever, clever Lillebror, I'm sure you have already planned some exquisite vacance time with your own hands-on sweetie of a Queen, as we make landfall in that hot climate of romantic Brazil. I myself am looking forward to seeing Mademoiselle wearing some fetching beachwear attire, sipping a mango-papaya drink on the gorgeous São Gonçalo beach." Hans' older brother breathes in the redhead's increasingly growing red ear as Hans grimaces at the irreverent man's descriptively improper insinuations about his pure Queen.
"Take us into the quay, Lieutenant Jan, giving ample clearance for the Santa Teresa to share dockside when they arrive some nautical knots to our stern." The competent Kommander of the Gler, Vise Admiral Westergaard calmly states to his coxswain junior officer at the helm inside the wheelhouse, his keen eyes fully attuned to scanning the entire green of summery Paraiso's coast.
Just as Elsa's were attuned to scanning her stunning hero, standing so tall and regal. Prince Hans in his stately navy blue Sjoforsvaret uniform, looked the part of Captain to a T. The responsible and in charge Kommander of his ship, was smoothly taking her in to the breathtaking exotic port of call that was so vibrant and blooming, with Summer sunshine written all over it.
"Is this not the start of another thrilling adventure for just the two of us, my handsome Prince?" The excited blonde beauty shines as she slinks over to where Hans had reemerged from giving his helmsman final instruction in the craft's wheelhouse to perch one long leg at the stem's rail of the HmNos Gler while leaning against it.
"I consider it my great privilege to serve Prince Alonso as his first groomsmen at his wedding to the Princess of this land, whom you, my Queen, will walk the aisle before, as her prestigious Maid of Honor. I will do all which is proper and right on this journey to serve you, Queen Elsa, and will continue to do so until the propitious date of our own wedding arrives, whenever that may be." The Danish Prince holds his head high and places his arms behind his back at gentleman's length, despite his enticing lady's advances to sidle up to enjoy the view with a more intimate embrace, much like Alonso and Valentina were sharing as the ship slowly entered the Guanabara quay at attractive Paraiso.
Whenever that may be? Elsa lets her fiancé's somewhat terse statement sink in.
Her mind was already at peace that she and he would wed when they returned to Arendelle in the Spring. Why wasn't his?
Did she ever have the opportunity to inform her impatient suitor of that delicious conclusion?
"Ermm..." Her pale brow creased, Elsa strains her memory to recall when she had shared that noteworthy tidbit of knowledge with her significant other.
Between chaperones, shipboard accidents, worries if the marriage of their argumentative South American friends they had traveled halfway across the globe to attend would even take place, the introverted young monarch was unsure.
In the quiet solicitude of her thoughts, Queen Elsa could not be 100% sure if her gallant Prince Hans knew the exact, whimsical day she had planned for their wedding in the not so distant future.
Oh, my poor darling! Have I been so blind and cruel to you again? Perhaps a cold as ice being like me can never learn to be a warm and human girl who deserves such a fairytale love…
A remorseful tentative Elsa moves away, sensing that no over friendly embrace was available from the stoic and solemn Vise Admiral who was rightly busy attending to his ship's harbor docking.
Prince Hans was rigidly standing at the edge of a ship, a fine, upright officer and example of fortitude and responsibility before his crew. He cut a fine figure for the Brazilian delegation awaiting the arrival of the royal wedding party of their beloved Princess Valentina and her most important Norwegian guests.
Please Lord, give me the courage here in Paraiso to be open and free to speak all that is in my heart to my love and relieve his anxieties this Valentine's Day. Just as his straightforward strength and honor and love, which knows no bounds, has always quelled mine.
Under the warming sunlight that Anna prescribed, Elsa bows her lovely head in prayer of supplication to the Lord who could move hearts which never believed themselves capable of sharing a deep love such as this.
Her Majesty of Norway's Steamship Gler smoothly glides into the breathtaking port of Rio de Janeiro's Baia de Guanabara's oceanic bay under Vise Admiral Hans Westergaard's competent command to escort his Queen Elsa of Arendelle to a royal wedding on the most romantic day of the year.
These final two days before Princess Valentina was to tie the marital knot with her country's neighboring Argentinean Prince to consolidate their two countries as close allies and more were extremely full.
Starting with Queen Elsa of Norway to be introduced to Valentina's father, King Pedro, as well as so many visiting ambassadors and dignitaries already gathered for the wedding the day after tomorrow upon entering the Palace until her head was spinning.
"Oh, my Primavera Bougainvillea! You have come home to me at last!" Dom Pedro of Paraiso embraces his daughter over-the-top animatedly with her flowery pink nickname.
"I must admit I have been a nervous wreck since my beloved child left on her voyage around the world. I thank Providence, Vise Admiral, that you have arrived several days ahead of time to quiet my nerves. And that's saying nothing of the wedding festivities and preparations the Princess must have time to place her special mark upon. For I was beginning to believe, without the benevolent kindness of his Majesty King Agdar's speedy escort vessel, and her Majesty Queen Elsa, who graces us with her very attractive presence, that our young bride and groom would not be in attendance for their own wedding ceremony." Tall, dark and of ample proportions, Dom Pedro of Paraiso was a large and imposing man in every sense of the word.
"Queen Elsa, I have already heard so much about you from many of my kingdom's visitors! But your true beauty and undeniable presence exceeds all reports, linda dama (lovely lady)." Don Pedro approaches a demure Elsa at the foot of the Paço Imperial Royal Palace court steps.
Abruptly after a flourished bow, the King forcefully takes hold of her surprised slender body in his wide girth embrace, intensely kissing both of Elsa's instantly frigid cheeks as if she were an old, intimate acquaintance.
"Why… Thank you, Your Majesty. I…too, am more than pleased to meet you, King Pedro." It took all Elsa's restrained wherewithal to contain her unease at this stranger's tactile approach as she shoots a glance over King Pedro's broad shoulders to Hans.
But in this touchy-feely instance, her Knight in shining armor could do little more than smile back at Elsa encouragingly in understanding.
Pitying his fiancée, Hans nobly takes a step forward to inject his presence in the growingly too-personal-for-comfort conversation.
From his tall, imposing over six foot five height, to his wide 150 cm girth, to his ostentatious medal adorned, silver and gold trimmed royal militaristic garb, right up to his vast array of precious gemstones encrusted upon his excessively large crown which sat upon his vainglorious dyed dark curls of hair, King Pedro of Paraiso was every bit Princess Valentina's father.
Maybe even just a little bit more flamboyant and flirtatious, if one could imagine that.
"So this is the Kommander of that impressive Norwegian escort ship which your good King father so wisely assigned to bring my precious child, the crown jewel apple of my eye, my Primavera Princess Valentina, home." After a paternal kiss to her forehead, King Pedro cossets his pretty as a flower daughter to take a seat on her throne across from his where his entire court could admire his offspring's loveliness.
"I have heard sundry tales of your valiant heroism and competence, and of your ableness for such a great responsibility, but I hardly expected to find you to be so young." King Pedro rubs at his beard critically as he looks Prince Hans up and down, marveling at how the young Norwegian Naval officer could not be yet thirty years of age and still placed in such an imperative role of honor and distinction by the King of Arendelle.
"It was my privileged duty to serve my sovereign and represent the splendid Navy of her nation at this joyous occasion, your Majesty, and especially to have the honor of the safe delivery of your gracious Princess of Paraiso back home to her great nation." Prince Hans chivalrously bows to the King of Paraiso, then consequently to Queen Elsa and Princess Valentina, showing them all much more than due respect in his graceful sweeping gallantry.
"Yes. But even the legendary Sjoforsvaret is now secondary in comparison to my personal fleet armada of ships, all of which are newly constructed with the most modern technology, not merely refitted with the latest steamship capabilities." It was obvious to see where Valentina inherited her competitive nature from, as Dom Pedro glances out through the extended windows of his ornate Imperial Palace overlooking the ocean view of the ships.
The King of Brazil gives an ancillary, dismissive look to the ship as he talks down the Gler to its affronted Captain.
But instead of showing a challenging smirk the young male felt inside, Hans simply smiles charmingly.
"In my maritime travels around the world, I have heard astounding report of the incomparable Brazilian fleet's new editions and updating that will surely be a credit to your Navy, your Majesty. You have my admiration for your fine armada that I have had the privilege to glimpse several exemplar ships thereof, earlier upon arrival." Though affronted and wishing to defend his own newly acquired naval affiliation as not being second to any other, as usual, the disarming thirteenth Prince of the Southern Isles knew how to put on the schmooze to this puffed up and haughty, South American monarch.
"Yes, yes. Ha ha! I know my Navy's prowess is renowned as one of the most impressive in the world. But yours is also very admirable, Queen Elsa, and your young Vise Admiral is an honorable tribute to it." His vanities petted, King Pedro turns back to address the beautiful blonde whom every dignitary in the room seemed interested in having the ear of.
"I agree wholeheartedly, Sir. Thank you." Elsa pauses in her conversation with a slew of local dignitaries Valentina had been making introductions with her queenly visitor in the Paço Imperial Palace.
"How are your dear father and mother, Queen Elsa? Are King Agdar and his Queen adjusting back to Royal life after that terrible four-year incarceration by vicious pirates? I was before unaware that vagrant type of vile wickedness could be allowed to exist in your northern kingdom of such pristine beauty. If your father would take my advice, he would clamp down on those who do business with marauders and employ more severe punishment to eradicate any unwanted vermin infestation problems." The strict ruler of Brazil kept crime under control of his nation with an iron hand that left Elsa almost speechless, had Hans not overheard and give a little cough, to spur Elsa on to speak up.
"Thank you for asking about my parents' welfare, Your Majesty. They are doing just fine, returned to their rightful places on Arendelle's throne, thanks in no small part to the valiant rescue and effort of many brave souls. First and foremost to my mind, that includes our brave protector, Vise Admiral Westergaard, whom I and my country owe an incontrovertible debt." Elsa tactfully squirms away from the demanding all-sticky-hands-on-deck Paraiso King as she easily brings Hans back into the conversation.
"Hmm." Dom Pedro frowns as the Gler's Kommander deftly maneuvers his Queen away from the older ladies' man with an introduction of another.
"Please allow me to present the representative of Denmark's delegation to this auspicious occasion. This is my elder brother, Prince Didrik of the Southern Isles, your Majesty." Hans signals for his similarly tall, dark and handsome older brother to run some much needed interference and give Elsa some breathing room with this overbearing Brazilian King who would not let her go and mingle with the others gathering in the Paraiso courtroom.
But Hans had absolutely no idea it would lead to such a confrontation between the two older men.
"Oh, there is no need for introductions here." The King of Paraiso pauses in his flirtations with Elsa and belittling of Hans, to instead set his dark bearded insulting sights elsewhere.
He did not address the handlebar mustache Danish Prince by his title, and for good reason.
"Didrik, it has been a long time."
"Pedro." Similarly responding without the full title of respect to the Emperor Dom Pedro, Didrik gives a sweeping bow nonetheless. But it was accompanied by a sly grin at the heavyset ruler, who strokes his beard and takes several steps back to sit on his throne.
"You must forgive me for not extending you a handshake, my oldfriend. But, alas, my appendage has met with an unfortunate accident aboard ship during the crossing." Playing the court for sympathy, Prince Didrik points to his bandaged hand with a pitiable simper up at the King on his throne.
"Ah, too bad it wasn't another body part of yours." Under his breath, King Pedro tosses the whimsical, below the belt remark back at Didrik, in full recollection of the Scandinavian Svengali's role in luring his wife – and later, stole his devoted mistress, the Viscountess Domitilia away, both to humiliate and abandon a cheating Pedro all those years ago in their shared, sordid past.
"Touché, Dom Pedro." With a cocked head, Didrik relents the title and smirks across the tense Throne Room at the similarly tall and dark, middle-aged man who intimidated most others with all his pomp and regalia.
But the sixth Prince of Denmark was never intimidated by anyone. He had a swanker all his own that precluded all threats from other men. Particularly concerning his prior liaisons with beautiful – and, by the way, willing women – who Didrik saw were individuals in their own rights and not items of possessions to be labeled as 'stolen property'.
Devoutly religious Queen Consort Dona Leopoldina, was perhaps persuaded by unlikely source Prince Didrik to leave her unfaithful King and his live-in mistress. But no one would believe that the relationship was purely platonic, not for any romantic entanglement with the dashing Danish Royal.
And the when the 24-year-old Prince first visited the South American continent in his chase to woo his own Spanish Princess, Antonia—who would eventually agree to be his bride 15 explosive years ago—Didrik could not stand by and allow his dear friend, Leopoldina, to be so badly treated.
It took years for Didrik to explain to his own jealous Antoinetta that quiet, long-suffering Leopoldina just happened to strictly be Didrik's closest friend from their Catholic school days together spent in Austria.
But the reconciled relationship between Didrik and Antonia was such now that she could believe she had a firm enough hold of his heart not to dredge up old jealousies.
Valentina and Alonso exchange an anxious glance with one another. The loving daughter saw that her father's neck was going all red and angry, his blood pressure rising certainly at this verbal altercation with the ever problematic, ever entertaining Prince of the Southern Isles.
"Oh, Papai (Daddy)! Thank you, thank you, for already starting the wedding preparations right away just as I wished! It was right after cousin Maria wired you of our blessed event from Portugal, wasn't it?! You always spoil me! Everything in the Palace looks amazing, Papai! Doesn't it, Alonsy?" Trying to disguise her hoarse voice as she exuberantly changes the subject, Valentina was most insistent that she could walk into the Paraiso Throne Room under her own steam with her head held high.
"Yeah. Amazing." A grimacing Alonso was not as enthusiastic for the 'Liberator Soldier King' and his overbearing interference. The young Prince of Argentina had tried to remain close at her heels, concerned for his still recovering fiancé. But Valentina rushed straight into her father's demanding embrace, leaving her husband-to-be behind in the dust.
"Aw, my poor, poor Primavera Valentina. You do not sound at all well. I warned you that your foolish heart's undertaking on that cold shipboard crossing to and fro between continents in search of a certain truant groom was detrimental to your blooming health, my flower." The verbose King of Paraiso places a hand on Princess Valentina's thankfully no longer feverish head as his glare at Prince Didrik transfers to Prince Alonso instead.
"Where is Manuel? I explicitly told your faithful manservant to continually stay at your side and to avoid such recklessness with your fragile wellbeing, my girl. Is this Argentinian oGarotinho (little boy) not yet a conscientious homem crescido (grown man) enough to know how to keep my high strung blossom in good health and spirits? Is this boy the one I am to transfer your ultimate care to?" The already irked, haughty Brazilian King lobs another insulting, accusing volley directly at his future son-in-law that causes Valentina to cringe behind Elsa and Hans, who were in empathetic sympathy with her snubbed fiancé.
For once in her life indecisive, the Princess of Paraiso benefits from seeing in Elsa's crystal clear eyes not only full of sympathy, but an independent, self determination. That quality had grown inside of the once unsure, timid and submissive Queen of Arendelle along her journey alongside the assertive Brazilian princess as well.
Elsa had time aboard ship to think long and hard about how a liberated woman – and self-governing daughter – would know when to cross the fine line between where loving obedience should end and sincere freedom begin, for her to be ready to take hold of her own dream now.
Yes, Valentina wanted to please because she adored her Papai (Daddy), who would always lavish his only child with expensive gifts and pampering which spoiled her nearly rotten with whatever she wanted growing up motherless.
It was King Pedro's well-intentioned, constant petting and complimentary spoiling that taught Valentina to strive to be the best Princess of all. It made her be competitive to everyone she met, better than all the rest, especially since her mother left her in single-parent care at an early age.
But headstrong Valentina went to seek out the young man she was secretly still madly in love with, even if his cold feet nearly left her at the altar. There was little King Pedro could do to stop her when she suddenly went chasing after her Prince Alonso in his tour of Europe to find a bride.
Even if it was against her proud father's better judgment, the girl in love would not listen this time to her doting Papai.
The Princess of Paraiso had not only regained her bridegroom, she also had learned a little bit more about compassion and humbleness during the continent crossing voyage from her new friend Elsa.
With the quiet example of Queen Elsa as her stable guide, the high strung, strong-willed woman had realized the extent of her true love for Alonso, more than enough to buck her obstinate father's guarded wishes, like Elsa did and would continue to, with hers.
"O Garotinho!? Excuse me?!" With a scoff of disbelief at the insult, Prince Alonso, in the backdrop of the Throne Room, was more than a little bit vexed by his second meeting with the pompous Brazilian King who had the audacity to challenge his manhood.
Why the heck do I have to put up with this?!
The two red-faced men on either side of Valentina seemed about ready to verbally tear into one another as much as look at each other.
"Papai. I know you care about me excessively. But please don't speak to my Alonso in that disrespectful way. He has been so caring and supportive on the crossing, watching over me impeccably. I know he will make me so very happy. I love him. Alonso is my perfect dream Prince, Papai. Alonsy, please try to get along with Papai. I'm all he's had all these years. You'll both just have to share me, all right?" Instead of getting snobbish or angry as she usually would before and throw a hissy fit when not getting her way as a spoiled child, Valentina takes the calm, rational, womanly approach of understanding she had learned from her cool-headed Norwegian friend.
With a purposeful step, her eyes look beseechingly between the pair of men, who both purse their lips and cross their arms, neither able to deny her sincere, pleading look for long, before both nod to her and one another.
"Now, please don't either of you worry. My throat is just a teensy little bit sore after talking practically nonstop all this vacation – as you know I have had the tendency to do when I am beyond excited since I was a tiny child, Papai. So, I need just a tiny little bit of undisturbed rest to regain my land legs and wrap my mind totally around the ceremony after the long trip – where my dream Prince took exceptional care of me – before I dive right into the final preparations for our perfect wedding. I know you two will do everything to make the ceremony unforgettable, because I know you both love me so." Spoken with her usual vivacious verve and flamboyance flashing in her eyes, although her voice was soft, Princess Valentina dances around the room as she speaks. She kisses first her father's bearded chin into a smile, then urging Alonso's clean-shaven face into a smirk as their lips meet momentarily before she twirls in a waved farewell to both.
With Elsa and Eliana gathered at her fingertips to dance along, Valentina floats on her pink high heels up the flowery pink and gold engraved staircase her father had the Palace decorators complete to his one and only beloved daughter's specifications.
Valentina leads her friends through the halls of her home where her favorite bougainvillea flowery pink designs trimmed the hallway that led finally to the Brazilian Princess's floral, pink hued bedroom suite.
"Perfect Dream Prince who makes her happy, huh? I like that. What a woman! So beautiful, so good, so full of life." Prince Alonso admires his bride-to-be with a low whistle under his pleased breath. He was determined to try, now more than ever, for Valentina's sake to break the ice, as it were, with his sourpuss father-in-law, who didn't even want to give him audience last time Alonso was here in Brazil.
"Hmph. Well, you had better keep it that way… Sonho Garotinho (Dreamboy)." For his part, Dom Pedro amends his insulting slur designation to a more familiar tease for the ever youthful looking Prince of Córdoba with the threatening remark in a slightly altered frown.
"I intend to… Pai." Arrogant, smirking Alonso takes his relationship with Valentina's overbearing 'Dad' to the next level, much to King Pedro's chagrin, as Prince Hans looks on.
"Come on, Hans. While the girls are primping for hours, I'll show you around Paraiso. There's really no place better. Except maybe Cordoba." Still vain in his own right, Alonso offers a tour to his more respectful, quiet friend stoically standing witness in the room.
"It's strange how you remind me of someone at that age…Just before all the mistakes…" The King's angry face transforms into a sad sigh as he speaks to Didrik, while both watch the brash and handsome young Argentinean prance about the Throne Room like he already owned the place.
"Hmph, old people. We're only young once, eh, Hans?" With a careless, dispassionate shrug, Alonso turns from Dom Pedro's lost look of regret and understanding between the two older men. Alonso gives a patiently listening Hans a shrugged look that plainly said: what have I gotten myself into?
"We'll catch you later, Pai! I'll take Prince Hans here on a tour of your famous city to see how it compares to Cordoba!" Alonso irreverently calls back to the Emperor King of this great nation, as deferential Hans gives a respectful bow before backing out of the Throne Room.
Gazing between the daring brown of his future son-in-law prince and the calming green eyes of the Scandinavian naval officer standing before his throne, the oft ill tempered, older, self-proclaimed 'Emperor' King holds his sharp tongue from saying he wished their roles were reversed.
"And don't you and Hans' crazy Dane brother kill each other while we're gone, okay?! That would really put a damper on my Valentine's perfect wedding jamboree day after tomorrow!" And with that final parting shot, the two young men book it through Paço Palace's rear exit to the beachfront.
"Have a good time." He simply utters, wishing days of his misbegotten youth were able to be lived over again.
Over the lonely years, Pedro had realized the error of the wicked ways of his youth when he was not much older than these two handsome lads.
Errors that had caused his beautiful wife to leave him – King, or no – all those years ago in shame and sorrow, driven by betrayed melancholy that soon had cost his unhappy Queen Leopoldina of Paraiso, the mother of his precious Valentina, her life.
The King of Paraiso had made up for his youth's innumerable mistakes, misdeeds and mistresses by trying to be an excessively indulgent, good father to the one child the woman he truly loved left behind.
So, if his Valentina believed this little Argentinean empurrão (jerk) could make his pride and joy of a little girl happy, Dom Pedro, as a good father, would not stand in her way.
"When she's calm and munificent like that, your girl has her Mama's gentle eyes, does she not, Pedro?" Prince Didrik breaks the uncomfortable silence left in the emptying out Paço Imperial Palace Throne Room.
After Princess Valentina had led Queen Elsa upstairs, and the King proclaimed he would retire to his office chambers, so many of the other guests had wandered off into the palace luncheon hall.
Except Prince Didrik, who followed uninvited to the King's office and sat on the King's office couch like he owned the place.
"You have raised a fine daughter who knows her own heart, Dom Pedro. Leo would be very proud of the little girl you brought up to be an excellent lady." Didrik boldly says, speaking in the pet nickname for the royal Austrian beauty he had known in his youth.
The righteous young Catholic Princess who had been swept off her feet by the Brazilian King possessed a wisdom beyond her years 'to be charitable and uncomplaining of what God had given and strived earnestly to be good'. Leopoldina's credo left a great impression upon him that Didrik wanted for a long time to share with her still regretful husband.
"You know, Prince Didrik. I think she would be. Even after all the wrongs I had done to her, my Leopoldina was that close to being a saint. But infelizmente (unfortunately) I'd never realized it until it was too late. So all I could do to repent is raise her daughter as best I could in her honor. Maybe I have spoiled my pretty Primavera a little over the years, but I never withheld from her a father's love." The father in Dom Pedro confesses of the one and only other person who might understand his lamentation, because these two faulted men struggled through it together.
Dom Pedro knew that Prince Didrik, too, was no angel when it came to wronging the ladies in his illustrious past either, if report of his further reputation was any judge on the matter. So now, after the years had mellowed him, the King of Paraiso could feel a camaraderie of sorts with this Danish Prince.
"As we both have a forgiving, benevolent God as our witness, Pedro, it is never too late to learn how to treat a lady. Even for thoughtless, ne'er-do-well rascals such as we are. After all, in our midlife years, we both have fine daughters and the responsibility to be upright examples of moral virtue for their future husbands to follow, do we not?" The Southern Isles Prince nods, thinking of his own quintet of lovely young daughters who took after his still ravishing mother hen of a Spanish wife who would soon arrive for the wedding.
Outside the palace, the young men relocate from the cool palace interior into the 85°F nearing noontime heat. Hans had appeased himself that Elsa was secure upstairs in the well-guarded palace the Naval officer had diligently been surveying the safe perimeter of.
"Hey! Let's skip the boring Palace luncheon and hit that Paço beachfront café we passed on the way in instead! It's all I've heard from Valentina on the trip of the café's 'delectable seafood' on the menu. Not to mention my Valentine insisting I sample their famed 'Caiprinha' cocktails made with the country's fresh served lime juice and fermented sugarcane." Alonso licks his lips at the sweet drink Valentina enticed him with at the ship's docking.
"We definitely deserve some loosening up after that pleasant greeting from Val's stiff Papai. Let's feel free to have some last ditch bachelor fun!" Alonso sings in his most mischievous voice, poking Hans in his good posture chest.
"Looks like you'll be popular. Those senoritas probably never seen a redhead Indo (reheaded European) like you before." Alonso chuckles as the group of voluptuous young ladies already on the beachfront give he and his tall Danish friend with the strikingly titian locks their most approving, come-hither glances.
Shy with being complimented Hans could not help but share in Alonso's contagious laugh in the bright and blinding Brazilian Summer sunlight they stepped out into.
But the giddy Córdoban prince's playful tease is cut short when a big pair of arms wrap around from behind him, accosting the thin framed young man in his tracks.
In the blinding glare of the overhead sun, Prince Hans evasively leaps back on his guard, his sword hand ready to draw in defense of his seized companion in this land and peoples foreign to him.
"Has the happy couple and their wedding party arrived two days ahead of schedule!?" A gregarious voice cries out as Alonso is nearly smothered by his attacker just beyond the palace's rear loggia doorway.
"My son has returned to our continent! Praise be the Lord he is looking so well and finally ready to settle down and start a family of his own! I am so proud of you, Alonso! Where is your lovely bride?!" Quite opposite the reception from at first reticent cool and threateningly haunted Dom Pedro, was the warm and inviting King of Córdoba.
King Juan Ramon of Argentina, full of pleased excitement, comes bounding up from the side garden of Paço Imperial he was strolling through in the early hours before luncheon.
Juan Ramon had come for the country uniting wedding ceremony between his son Alonso and the beautiful Princess of Paraiso, Valentina.
King Juan Ramon proudly embraces Alonso in a big bear hug, just as the affectionate King did when his son was a little boy and in much need of a little fatherly love.
"Geez, Dad. I'm a grown man now who shakes hands with other men! Not get sneak hug glomped from behind!" Embarrassed like many young men would be of his father's public embrace greeting, Prince Alonso tries to squirm out from his sticky parent.
Alonso was uncomfortable at the way his kindly Dad was acting in front of Prince Hans, as well as some of the other tittering chuckling distinguished guests and dignitaries who were eating their sandwich luncheons outside in the garden, eager to see what all the commotion of the ship's arrival at the Porto was about.
Particularly not in front of Prince consort Gabriel Nuñez, Prince Alonso's favorite old punching bag rival.
"Hey, Alonso. My eldest boy doesn't mind a good roughhouse hug from his dad. But Raul's only seven years old, so he doesn't get embarrassed of his favorite guy." Comes the eventual tease from the tall, dark and tanned skin sticky-uppy black haired Captain of the Avaloran guard, a.k.a. Prince Consort husband of eight years and six children to Queen Elena of Avalor.
"Ha ha ha. Very funny, Nuñez. I didn't figure your big brood would all be in attendance at my wedding to Valentina. Better keep those whiny brats quiet while we're reciting our vows at the church, old man, or Valentina won't be happy." Alonso complains to the man with an unsavory squalling baby that arrives in Queen Elena's very full arms, not too far behind her husband.
"Speaking of whining… Maybe my newest baby boy, Esteban, is more in your league, Alonso." Gabrielle Nuñez was no stranger to handing out jokes as he escorts his wife who was yet in breast-feeding stage, and the youngest addition to his large and still growing family, to a nearby chair in the Palace garden.
"We're fine, Gabe. Aren't we, little Esty? Where's your big tall uncle of that namesake and his new bride? If I have to wait much longer to meet Esteban's long-lost love, Johanne, I'm just going to pop! Wait. Didn't Esteban come back with you guys on the ship?" The beautiful and baby bountiful Queen of Avalor makes a sweeping entrance from the bowery of Valentina's beautiful garden steps.
Queen Elena was carrying her tiniest child in her striking crimson red, empire waist dress in one secure arm while toting a satchel full of clothes change, clean diapers, baby toys and milk bottles in her parent survival kit slung on the other arm quite capably.
Well, Elena should be a parenting pro by baby number six.
By now, in the twelfth year of her queenly reign over Peru, Queen Elena was a veteran of handling rough situations with adroit finesse. The dark-haired beauty had learned to wear her crown with responsible distinction since training to be Queen' since she was 17 years old.
Elena had been thrown into a mystical world of magic and marvels versus multiple forces of evil that threatened her beloved kingdom of Avalor. And always at the headstrong teen's side, from the very beginning, was Elena's brave and sure soldier, Gabriel Nuñez.
He uncomplaining and faithfully stood for his friends and fought their toughest battles—and Gabriel Nuñez had the back of Elena more than any other guardsman.
Their close and trusted friendship soon turned to a tender affection and eventually into a secure, trusting, resounding love.
So now, safe kingdom at peace, a happy marriage, four children and one set of twins later, Elena and her Prince Consort Gabriel could not feel more a part of one another's family partnership than they did now.
"Dad's dirty diaper time already?" Gait murmurs with a simper as he brushes Elena's wildly askew ponytail from her lovely big almond brown eyes, after having been caught in some of the dangling weeping willow tree boughs.
"Bingo." Elena pauses to sigh and smiles gratefully with a loving pop to her strong, caring husband's Roman nose.
Gabe switches from chief guardsman to a baby changing expert by now. He scoops up their just starting to fuss, newest baby boy from his already winded, pretty Mama's lap and smoothly lays out his squirming child on the bench to relieve little Esteban of his dirty deed.
"Queen Elena of Avalor, I presume? I am Prince Hans of the Southern Isles, Vise Admiral of the Norwegian Sjoforsvaret. I have heard so much about you, I'm truly honored to be in your presence." With a regal bow to the lady, Prince Hans chooses his moment after being diplomatic to the crowd full of ambassadors and dignitaries. They were all just emerging from their Palace luncheon to mingle and greet the new guests from the ship swarming around the garden that brought wedding party in two days early.
"Likewise, Prince Hans of the Southern Isles, Vise Admiral of the Norwegian Sjoforsvaret." Elena accepts Hans' elegantly extended hand to lift her from her bench seat with a coy smile up at the handsome young officer's long and formal introduction.
"Ooh, you're strong. And handsome." Hans' eyes dart down in embarrassment as he blushes modestly at the Queen of Avalor's praise spoken under her breath, giving the gregarious Elena even more a pretty picture of the pale, freckled and gorgeous Scandinavian young Royal man.
"So, enough about me! You're betrothed to Queen Elsa of Arendelle, right? She came with you across the ocean to our neck of the Amazon! I'm beyond excited to finally meet her! I've heard she's amazing." The dark-haired, Peruvian monarch who was eternally young at heart glances around the room enthusiastically in search of her much rumored platinum blonde ruling counterpart from Norway who, too, wielded powers of magic for good.
Though, Queen Elsa's incredible ice gifts – unlike Elena's taught, learned and well-trained abilities– came from within the Norwegian woman's being.
"She is exactly that, and more, Queen Elena. And I don't merely mean the ice cryokinetics the Lord has gifted her with to protect her country. Queen Elsa is the most regal, most angelic most –" Opening up to this friendly young Queen just a few years his senior, Prince Hans starts to extol his Elsa's attributes to this friendly audience when his brother Didrik interrupts Hans and Elena's cozy corner tete a tete in the garden.
"– Most breathtakingly beautiful fiancée a young man could ever wish for. Knowing the ladies as I do, as Queen Elena will no doubt agree, yes, Hans, I am, your big brother with noted exceptional taste in women, and I am absolutely in concurrence." Didrik smiles beguilingly to Elena, though Hans was mortified as to his elder brother's impolite manners. "Do excuse me for interrupting your conversation with this stunning beauty of an Hispanic Queen, Hans. But I'm afraid I must tear my much in demand Lillebror away. Desculpa (pardon me), Bonita, Queen Elena, but I must have my brother's ear." The dark-haired, tall Prince of Denmark suavely finishes Hans' sentence and maneuvers his shocked younger brother through the growing crowd of diplomats at the Paco Imperial garden outdoor garden portico.
"Didrik?! That was nothing short of rude! What is the meaning of –?!" Hans asks in a harried whisper, dumbfounded by his elder sibling's lack of good social behavior.
That is, until Didrik, who had left the luncheon social to step outside for a much-needed cigarette smoke first, yanks his Lillebror Hans out towards the rear Palace loggia pillars.
"Look there." Prince Didrik points to the filmy figure of a woman dressed in scandalously leg hugging, muddy pants and a shredded dark hood pulled around her head.
She was beckoning to the men gaping at her from the Paço Imperial Palace side stone portico.
"Why would you believe that woman wishes to see me? I know no one in this country." Hans says, his eyebrows furrowed deeply as he squints into the dark thicket where the female figure remained partially obscured so that no one in the Palace party would see her.
"Maybe because I was passed this strange epitaph, via some small lizard-like creature, from our mysterious woman in black, who disappears each time one of those militaristic Palace guardsmen of our 'friendly' host, Dom Pedro, marches past." Didrik hands Hans a quickly scrunched up page that was written in nothing less than full Greek.
"Alas, my Greek, dear boy, I must admit was never very good, as the dozens of tutors old Rügen employed could attest. But your name was glaring, even to an ignoramus like me." Prince Didrik points over his younger brother's shoulder to the unfolded, foreign linguistic note where the words 'Prince Hans' was clearly delineated amid the Greek language characters.
"'Please, come, Prince Hans! Follow me! Hurry!And keep it a secret from everyone! José Bererra needs you to break him out of jail tonight!'" Astute, multilingual Prince Hans easily translates the text in the bright light of the warm noon time Summer sun of February in Brazil.
"Who is this José Bererra fellow?" An amused Didrik poses the unknown moniker to his companion, who too cocks his head in reply. "Perhaps an old shipmate or crewmen in your illustrious world travels, Vice Admiral?" Didrik muses with a touch of envy at his well-positioned brethren. He twirls his handlebar mustache at a thoughtful Hans, who smoothly produces a pen in his hand to scribble a note of his own.
"No… Though I know not the name, there is an urgency about the situation that calls my attention to respond… I think I have a feeling whom this involves, after all. Someone we're both acquainted with, who's manifestly missing from the guest list." Cautious Hans takes several steps to the edge of the columned open side portico overlooking the garden surrounding the Paço Imperial Palace, before his eyes catch a glimpse of something entirely familiar that convinces them to take action immediately.
"Watch over my Queen in my absence, Storbror. I will return to her shortly." Hans turns to Didrik, seriously searching his eyes for steadfast stability before the younger Westergaard shakes the older's hand. Then, without further word, Hans launches his long legged leap over the side railing of the stone terrace to race across the lush greenery of the palace rear that led into the forest behind.
"Hey, Hans! Ready to kick back that round of legendary Caipirinha cocktails now that that whole Paraiso lunch extravaganza buffet fiasco is finally done with!? I know I sure could use a stiff drink after hobnobbing with all those – Huh? Where's that guy going now?" Just then, Prince Alonso decides to take a stroll in the fresh air to clear his head when he spies Hans' wiry form make a stealthy beeline towards a beckoning shadow by the trees.
Caught between answering the questions of the exacting Brazilian Archbishop that his hyper, happy royal Dad had dragged him to meet and the long list of guests all wishing him well, Alonso's head was left pounding.
There were so many marital rituals and ceremonial demands on these last days before his wedding that Alonso, who just wanted to spend a day with his lover in the sun, felt about ready to scream.
"Hey! Wait up for me, you crazy Dane!" Feeling this may be his last stab at bachelorhood liberation, the freedom-loving Prince of Córdoba had watched Prince Hans about to mount that all too familiar colorful magic flying Carpet which Alonso had come across in Arendelle.
Upon it, Prince Hans was seated beside a tantalizing, black hooded female figure of mystery, of that, an intrigued Alonso had no doubt.
Why does this lucky dog Prince Hans get all the excitement happen to him?
The envious Argentinean prince takes to his long legs to run and leap on board Carpet at the last possible moment, as the magic rug was just about to take off where its now trio of travelers would be unseen against the tree-lined shadows.
"Crazy is the right word for young rascals these days. And it appears to be catching." Didrik snorts, glancing down into his own bandaged palm to find, when Hans had shook it farewell, he had left with Didrik a certain well folded, read and reread piece of paper.
It was love letter, filled with a solemn apology and deep confession of some torrid details of the guilty young lover's fantasy involving his fiancée in the most intimate of terms that made even veteran ladies' man Prince Didrik color.
And it was addressed to 'Min hviddue'.
"I'm impressed. But you are a bonafide glutton for punishment, Lillebror. How do you get yourself into these messes?" Didrik takes the damning missive, he instantly recognized was meant for Queen Elsa by the romantically fond nickname. He quickly crumbles it with his one viable hand and tucks it into a tiny inside pocket in the folds of his svelte jacket.
"Good thing you have your older brother here to intercede before you do yourself a mischief." The more experienced with women Prince Didrik says under his chuckles at the nonsensical nature of a man whose his heart was so young and so much in love to drive him to these ends of madness and back again.
"There is a thing as too much honesty, particularly when it comes to the delicate female sex."
The recently turned 40-year-old Prince watches the flying magic Carpet and its two twentysomething lovestruck young heroes take off against the sunset tree line cover, supposedly unnoticed, on one more grand adventure.
But one other curious pair of true blue eyes which were so in tune with the Northern sky they had been gazing upon, they notice a shift in scenery through her bedroom window.
Gripping her heart, Elsa was sure she saw the fleeting silhouette of her redheaded man, and another she paid little attention to, on the back of the magic flying Carpet she hardly expected to see here in South America. But more, it was the unmistakable form of a shapely female with her hair let down in flowing brown curls sharing the romantically intimate ride beside him that made the Ice Queen's blood run cold.
I wonder where you're going without telling me, Hans…
And just who is that woman with you?
The colorful Persian rug soars away from the Palace to who knew what sort of furtive rendezvous to who knew where.
Despite her best efforts to remain calm and detached, Elsa could not restrain that little bit of possessive jealousy from sneaking into the recesses of her mind.
Involuntarily, as she watches Carpet and his illicit passengers zoom out of sight, the perturbed Ice Queen's frozen fingers on the panes flash freeze Valentina's third floor window glass until it goes all white with a sub-zero condensation this side of the equator has never before seen.
Across the vast Atlantic Ocean, back home in the North Seas of Arendelle…
Kristoff Bjorgman had been up early with the Dawn, unable to sleep for much longer than a few sparse hours these last couple of days.
The Ice Harvester had been practically up all night trying to calm his five-month pregnant wife in her second trimester.
Anna was still relatively comfortable by day, but it kept the first time mom-to-be sleep deprived by night.
The incredibly tall, incredibly muscular blond mountain man had left his little wife, sleeping soundly at last in a bedraggled, sweat drenched, upside down hair mass upon their woodsman cottage's master bed, to go for an outdoor walk and clear his own fuzzy mind.
It had been about eight months since Kristoff had wed his ginger cutie, but it seemed a lifetime transpired in between now and then. If the sane young man would even have dared to explain, no one would ever believe all the crazy stuff that had happened to the newlywed couple since that happy day back in July.
Anna's thought lost at sea parents had been returned to them after a monumental battle with pirates and sea monsters, with ancient magic and legends all mixed in.
Not to mention Kristoff's own amazing discovery of his unknown past, with the mystical Snow Queen as his long-lost mother and his father revealed as his mysterious old mentor from his ice harvesting camp days, named Ragi.
The combination of which resulted in Kristoff inheriting some 'Wind Whisperer' extrasensory powers of his own, that gave the down-to-earth lad the ability to listen and communicate with all of nature it seemed.
All the while, Anna's big sister Elsa, being tempted and tested by every Nibelung and Devil Troll along her icy path, by chance or destiny, encountered a certain young man. And she not only forgave the former criminal/reformed archenemy of her nation, but the munificent Queen of Arendelle fell madly in love with him as her new hero, despite her Papa's distrust of the Dane.
So much in love and longing to marry her Prince Hans, that Queen Elsa chased him down to the kingdom of his birth, where murder plots and sedition along with jealous brother vindictiveness and competitive rivalry reigned supreme.
But all the events that led to this day as Kristoff stood by Anna and her complex family's side, prepared the once loner of an Ice Harvester for this greatest new challenge, making Kristoff more a mature man than he ever was.
Sure, Kristoff was, despite his orphaned young life, followed by an unorthodox Troll upbringing, never a wild child or rebellious boy in his youth during his independent adolescence.
He always, since the earliest age, took seriously his responsibility of taking care of himself and watching out for Sven as well. That conscientious dependability molded the young man to be the good citizen with a heart of gold he was today.
As he mused the recent past in the dusky polar night dark morning, the young father-to-be was utilizing his nervous energy to put to good use at least, gathering wood for the cottage's fireplace to keep his Anna warm in these frozen months in Arendelle.
Kristoff woke up every morning lately in these truly peaceful days of simply trying to keep his lover secure and warm in their new life in the home together.
In these sleepless hours, Kristoff had time to ponder his gratitude to his Creator for placing him in Oaken's Trading Post on that fateful night three years ago when he and Anna had first met and hit it off.
"That's when I found my Feistypants…"
"Who? Who?"
"Well… She wasn't exactly looking for a guy like me, being currently engaged to a more, in her words, 'dreamy' Prince at the time. Hmph. And no way was I – an independent loner, man of business – interested in her! Attracted, maybe, to her cute, quirky gutsiness. But I was not interested picking up a girl! I just wanted to sell my ice! At first, anyway. Hey! Why am I confessing my love life to an owl and a tree? I must be really zoned out from lack of sleep." As the well-grounded blond mountain man recalled his first and lasting love encounter, he didn't realize that he had been speaking aloud to the sweet birch tree that he had been humanely chopping down, bough by careful bough for its valuable bark.
But the man of nature Wind Whisperer truly believed deep down, though it was hard to admit sometimes, that he knew every rock and tree and creature had a spirit and a name.
The tall, stately birch was at the crescendo of its natural life of some 300+ years and had whispered in the snows for the Snow Prince how it wished in an almost paternal way, to be useful to the end to the Royal family on whose land the Birch was so integrally a part of.
And the tree's ancient spirit particularly wanted to give comfort to that special little girl who gave the tree its happiest hours. Princess Anna recognized the trees as her friends and grew up swaying in nearby branches, singing and playing with such a love of life in all forms that all of nature loved her right back.
Old 'Betula the Birch' was only glad to offer its last season of sweet smelling wintergreen oil, still flowing through its veins to the sweet voiced young ginger Princess, who had so named him. Anna had climbed his happy limbs many times before when he was nearing the end of his days, making Betula feel young and vital again.
So all the old birch wished was to help her now that she was the one ailing.
His aromatic essential birch oil had a pain relieving and cooling effect on humans who suffered from sore muscles and joints, and would be a world of good to the little mother-to-be.
The fresh minty scented birch oil that Kristoff had already gleaned from the dying old birch had worked wonders on Anna's aching arms and legs and painful buttocks, too. The man of Nature prescribed the essential oil and hands-on massaged it to his Baby having his baby to ease her tension away at all hours of the day or night.
"What are you doing out here in the dark at this time of morning, young man? And who on earth are you talking to there? The trees?" It just happened that another man with restless paternal instincts too was unnerved on the sleepless night.
The tall, rigid monarch of Norway had suffered from much anxiety over his darling children, one near and in pain, the other so far away in unknown encounters beyond his help that it kept King Agdar of Arendelle up at nights.
"I, erm, uh…well! I was…ummm… Ergh… Just refining some more fresh birch oil for Anna's aches and pains out of the bark of this good old tree, Dad… I mean, your Majesty… I mean…So how're you doing this morning…Sir?" Kristoff literally and figuratively stumbles over both words and the double tin drip container that he was just about to carefully extract from the brush straw fire.
Kristoff had industriously stacked the insulated flames around the bark stuffed 'oil refining' tin to burn for several hours under Sven's careful watch. That had been left slow roasting while the industrious young man was seeing to the rest of his one-man outdoor chores, like firewood collection and clearing out the lean-to barn's reindeer stalls with fresh hay, never mind clearing a plot behind the house for planting the root vegetable garden Anna wanted in the Spring.
"Oh, man! This is bad. Okay! I got this under control! Owwie! Hot!" Unnerved by this spectator, Kristoff was half-asleep and had forgotten to put on his thick fireproof glove while moving the hot tin container half buried in the dirt to steam the valuable essential oil liquid.
But Kristoff had misjudged the heat from the bursting flame and clumsily knocked over several of the still red-hot burning embers of the fire.
Kristoff had merely been trying to remove the ingenious, safe roasting, 'Tree Oil Refining Tin' contraption that he bought from Oaken a little while back, but ended up getting burned instead.
"No, son. I have this under control." The Ice King corrects the younger man grammatically like a teacher or parent would. King Agdar merely had to flick his wrist to flash frost the molecules in the air around the instantly sizzling brush flame engulfing Kristoff's apparently flammable hat that Anna had knit for his birthday present.
"Thanks. Maybe Anna won't notice the hole?" Kristoff says hopefully before he cringes when he pokes his large finger through the even larger, crisp blackened, gaping hole in his newly gifted knit brown hat. Kristoff crookedly smiles with a look of guilt up at his powerful father-in-law who wasn't even wearing a thin cloak over his usual naval jacket.
The insomniac King had apparently decided to take a stroll through the mid-February morning -5°C predawn temperature when he saw the smoke emanating from Oaken's 'Tree Oil Refining Tin' near the cottage through his window.
"That's right. The cold doesn't bother you anyway." The Ice Harvester smiles at the improbable ruler of the nation. Kristoff had grown up outdoors in Norway's bitterly cold environment and could take temperatures well below freezing for hours on end himself.
But that didn't mean the well-built, burly young man wasn't shivering beneath his thick fur tunic and cloak of double worsted wool, with three layers of insulated underclothes, double thick fleece pants and reindeer skin boots.
All while he could bet his slender father-in-law probably didn't even have on his thermals beneath that regal, yet thin, royal suit.
"No fair!Kristoff's the one who's got the Snow Queen's blood in his veins!" To ignore his charred painful hand, Kristoff chortles in Sven's silly, wobbly reindeer voice projection that King Agdar did not find funny at all, as he frowns upon the pair like Kristoff and Sven were low-class weirdos.
He was obviously in no mood for humorous antics of reindeer games.
"Again, I query: what is it you are going to all of this trouble for out here in this early morning frozen darkness alone? Why aren't you attending to Anna? I left her in your explicit care in that little cottage on the outskirts of the castle grounds, where you promised that you would keep her safe and comfortable. I did not expect to find you running around in the forest with your reindeer, playing with fire, no less, in all hours of the early morning. I am surprised that you left my vulnerable, five months pregnant daughter alone in that poorly insulated, secluded woodsman's cottage at the edge of the property, when her mother and I have already stated that we would gladly care for Anna in Arendelle Castle because we know you are busy working. Now, hold still boy, while I see to that burn to prevent a blister." King Agdar had come to look upon this plebian mountain man of Anna's like a child of his own, as he fatherly berates Kristoff for staying out past 'curfew' and toying with matches in the cold weather, all while tenderly attending the boy's 'booboo.'
"I AM attending to Anna, Sir. This is the pain relieving muscle rub that I've been treating Anna's sore muscles with. It's all natural and seems to be the only thing that works for her. But we ran out last night. So, since I couldn't sleep, I came out early to distill some more to ease her leg and hip pain. But it looks like not me or my hat is flame retardant." Kristoff explains his motives as he tries to make light of the situation. He inhales sharply at the pain from the accidental burn to his right palm, and smiles churlishly at the King.
"Neither my hat, nor I." Agdar again corrects his son-in-law's improper grammar, like a real father patiently would.
"Right. Neither my hat, nor I, are flame retardant." Kristoff obediently mimics, gaining the King's approval and a carefully listening Sven's wide tongue lick across the intelligently spoken face.
Agdar shakes his head at the inanity of it all. "If you're finished collecting…birch oil…here, then let us hurry back to Anna." Agdar states, always in his role as a caring father first.
"Don't worry, Anna is still sleeping soundly or Svala what have signaled me. I left her peeking through the cracked open window to keep watch over my gal while I was elsewhere." The Wind Whisperer taps his forehead, signifying his preternatural gift of second sight through his mental bond with his wife.
"Well, that is commendable you are keeping notice of Anna at all times, young man. And I beg your pardon for my short temper and quick words, accusing you of abandoning your duty to my girl. I know that is flagrantly inaccurate. But my nerves, you know." With a self-deprecating simper, King Agdar uncharacteristically apologizes to anyone – no less his low class son-in-law – offering Kristoff a genuine smile to go with the ice pack compress applied to the boy's large scorched palm that prevented a blister and eased the burn pain simultaneously.
"I have watched over you these weeks and have seen how you go out of your way to diligently care for my daughter, Kristoff. Though I don't say it often, I could not be more satisfied knowing how you put my Gingersnap's welfare first and foremost above your own. I am well pleased Anna chose you." In a conciliatory mood now that he was found in the wrong before, Agdar recognized the genuine loving concern his son-in-law provided his younger daughter.
"Yeah, well. I do my best to keep up with her." Secretly beyond ecstatic to have Anna's father's approval at last, Kristoff nods gratefully to Sven for stomping out the remnants of the Tree Oil Refining Tin fire as he had been applying a smudge of the newly distilled healing Birch oil for its anti-inflammatory properties to his own hand.
{"Thanks, pal."} Kristoff mentally thanks Sven as he and his father-in-law walk side-by-side back to the cottage that Kristoff had purchased from Elsa to make a home for he and Anna that was still close to her family.
"Ha ha. Yes, my wife and I always found Anna to be a handful growing up." The wistfully smiling older man seemed as if he had a desire to talk to someone in this cool crisp February morn.
Agdar had spent many long sleepless hours reminiscing of his life and that of the dear family that the Lord blessed a fool such as he, to watch over and provide as paternal guard.
"She always was – and still is, our sparkling firefly of a child that we loved so much, I'm afraid we let her run wild. But I did watch out she did not hurt herself too badly in her relish for playing when Anna was young." The King fondly recalls the many scrapes that baby Princess Anna had gotten herself into, running around alone in Arendelle Castle like a little hooligan.
"Now that you mention it… Dad. I've been wondering if I could I ask you some… ummm… personal…gulp… man-to-man advice about being a dad?" His heart was caught in his throat one second after Kristoff uttered the inquiry.
His burning questions about becoming a new father had the blond, just turned 24-year-old wishing he never opened his mouth to the uncommonly receptive King of Arendelle this morning.
But as a lost child orphan raised by kindly, but inappropriate Rock Trolls, Kristoff had little to no example, in human terms at least, on this all-important subject of fatherhood.
"Go ahead, son. I'll do my best to answer your question. I am touched you can trust me to give advice on the subject, because I regret I have not always been the most competent of fathers. But my love for my children has always their best interest at heart." Agdar nods his head as he considers the idea. He was leading Sven by the reins back to the cottage while carrying Kristoff's axe over his right shoulder and shovel over the other like an old farmhand more than a prim and proper King.
Aware of Anna's royal father's flexibility he admired, the young Ice Harvester was carefully separating the birch oil from the compressed water extruded in that ingenious distillation tin container of trader Oaken's inventive design as they walked.
"Yeah, right. Well, umm…" Kristoff nervously swallows as he stops to point out to the King where to hang up the shovel and axe gear into the mountain man's homemade, outdoor shed.
Sven joins Svala in peeking through Anna's partly open side bedroom window to check on their slumbering, favorite gal, who was loudly snoring and drooling on the topsy-turvy bedding, with her hair a wild curled fright. Otherwise than that, Anna was adorable.
"Come on in and have some coffee, Sir. I made it fresh a few hours ago before I set out, so I'll just warm it up for us now on the stove quick." Kristoff quickly displays his skills as homemaker, deftly relighting the cute little stove in the cute little kitchen in his and Anna's cute little cottage.
Kristoff sets the coffee pot – with a hand mitt glove for safety this time – on the stovetop. Then he takes a pair of cups in the cabinet crowded with porcelain knick knacks and salt shakers of all kinds of woodland animals and snowmen his wife had collected as King Agdar sits at the homey little table for the first time.
"Do you think guy like me – a working orphan in a mountain camp, raised by a family of uncouth hermit Trolls, where my Troll dad Cliff taught me to use my head –mostly meant to smash into trees to get down their fruits for seeds and such— could make a good Dad? I don't know if I've got what it takes. Should I be the steady, tough at times, rock solid grunting type? Or more the understanding, compassionate and funny pal kind of guy? Or maybe a little of both? Does it depend on if it turns out to be a boy or girl? I just want to be the kind of perfect father that'll be good enough for Anna's baby to look up to someday. And not just because I'm gonna be taller than him. Or her. Either way is fine. Probably." Frazzling his already mussy hairdo, Kristoff confesses his natural anxieties to Anna's father over the cup of java and leftover donuts the overtired young man served at the table in the dark kitchen.
"Heheheh. Do not think yourself alone here, young man. It has always been a worry for each of us mortal men through the ages. Especially for young first fathers, who wish to be worthy of that honored position of 'Papa'. It is a serious undertaking to be the head of the family, responsible for raising children to be molded into fine young men and women who live in humble reverence to our one Lord God who brought them about the first place." After raising his eyes to Heaven, King Agdar gives a long glance to his restful, snoring child in the open door bedroom.
"I have discovered in my own attempts to be that 'perfect dad', as you say, that there is no set, flawless blueprint, whether the child is male or female. But because you are striving and asking the right questions now, as you continue to love your wife and be a good man we have all come to know you to be, I'm sure your child –girl or boy – will be proud to call you 'Papa', Kristoff. After all, there is no greater distinction a man can strive for in this life." Agdar benevolently smiles as he puts on his wisdom cap to tackle this age-old question of the young man moving into the next stage of his lifetime.
"There is one other thing…" Kristoff says taking a long sip of his coffee. "After they have the baby – do women lose their…ergh…Appetite?" The strapping young mountain man's choice of tentative words utterly dumbfounds his father-in-law, causing Agdar to start choking on his donut. The King was ready to tackle any inquiry concerning the raising of babies or the trials of fatherhood in general. But this very personal inquiry into married men and women's further intimate relations after childbirth? A wide-eyed Agdar was about to downgrade his increasingly high opinion of this dirt covered mountain boy if he was referring to the King's little girl in such a coarse fashion.
"I just wanted to know if I'm going to be up every night from now on cooking for Anna her favorite treats by candlelight, after I do the barnyard cleanup then the household chores, just to get back in time to make her late morning breakfast in bed. Mind you, I'm not complaining. Don't get me wrong I really don't mind doing all the cooking and cleaning – with Sven's help as a godsend in washing the dishes – but I was thinking maybe we could hire a farmhand to rake out the stalls and take care of planting that garden Anna wants this Spring. At least for the meantime, until she gets back on her feet. I don't know how much longer I can keep up this pace handling everything around here, and still get my work done at my Ice Harvesting Shop in town. I want to have time to help take care of the new baby, too." Overworked, stressed out Kristoff Bjorgman rattles off his hectic schedule.
He stifles a mighty yawn in Anna's father's face before the harried husband sits back on the couch to get a good view of the loudly snoring young woman through their never closed bedroom door as his busy hands finish bottling the freshly wintermint scented Birch oil for her rub later.
"Oh, is that all you meant, Boy? Ha ha ha!" The ginger haired King lets out a hearty laugh before covering his mouth guiltily at being noisy when the young mother to be in the next room was trying to sleep.
"Don't worry, Anna could sleep through a tornado." The tired man gazes up at his father-in-law who had been pacing around the sitting room of their messy little cottage.
"Indeed, being with child increases the young mother's need for nutrition." After another chuckle at his own fertile imagination, the older man answers the younger's original question honestly as he could. "But as you knew full well when you married my daughter, Anna has a bottomless stomach when it comes to chocolate and sweets." Agdar gazes fondly through the open door at his baby girl, trying to imagine how the bright and shining Gingersnap would fare as a new mother.
"And nuts. You have no idea how many nuts I've cracked and shelled in the past month." A drowsy Kristoff opens up his exhausted eyelids enough to smirk at nature's perfect protein that his Baby adored to snack upon.
"Oh, yes, how could I forget the nuts?" King Agdar chuckled, looking around the newlywed cottage for the first time with observant eyes that saw not only the nutshells on every table, but traces of his vibrant girl's effervescent eclectic signature in every corner of the idyllic little living area.
Snowmen and sunflowers with birthday candles decorated the multiple plants and tree cuttings in terra-cotta pots in the windowsills that screamed Anna's name. Handcarved wooden Crosses with inscribed Bible verses hung over Christmas decorations too cherished to put away. Letters to and from her beloved sister were scattered across upon Anna's little nook quaint writing desk in the corner of the cottage living room.
All in all, the wood cutter's cottage was a messy, lived in, perfect place chock-full of flowers and light and happiness. Artwork by Elsa, the artistic queen's self-portrait and other drawings and paintings, proudly hung upon the wall with family and pictures filled with love and memories along Princess Anna's lively way.
"Now that you're done refining that Birch oil, why don't you just lie back and take a well deserved rest, son. You have had a full morning already. I promise to look into getting you some much needed help for the outside work and in planting season, so you may slow down a little bit to give Anna and the child more of your full attention. And when Gerda returns from her vacation, she and your Mother-in-law have already volunteered to assist Anna with the baby." The sympathetic father-in-law offers his support to the overwhelmed first father.
"As I am here this fine morning, please allow me to watch over our little slumbering Angels who God has placed in our care together. So, just close your eyes and rest a while, son. I will take care of everything." With the paternal order, Agdar compassionately places a hand of permission to rest upon Kristoff's already slumped shoulders, ready to collapse against the couch.
"Thanks, Dad." More comfortable with the familial moniker than he thought he'd ever be, Kristoff curls up on the living room couch. The big man was not at all feeling crowded by the excessive fluffy magenta pillows and yellow flowery quilts made by the church ladies as a home warming present to the younger Princess of Arendelle and her new hubby.
King Agdar uses his silent cryokinetics to magically tidy up the table, while mystic frost animated icy scrub sponges and bottle washers tinklingly clean finish the dishes Sven's tongue had left half done last night. (ewgh, disgusting, boy).
Then the satisfied father quietly moves in to the bedroom where his precious baby girl was peacefully sleeping.
On a mountain of soft pillows and warm blankets, the pampered Princess' sweet face looked as young and innocent as Agdar remembered from looking in on his little girl to see she was asleep when she was a wee thing.
And now that she was older, to her worried Papa, his Gingersnap baby still looked too small to be holding the promise of such a big wonderful future hidden close to her heart.
In the woodsman's cottage where Anna has made her home as a woman, King Agdar sits in the little chair that was more fit for a dwarf than a man.
It left Agdar wondering how his devoted son-in-law usually occupied the uncomfortable chair somehow despite his wider girth.
Import in a larger, more ergonomic, cushioned chair for bedroom. Check.
The King thinks to himself in the quiet still of the polar night morning, where he was content to settle back and watch his baby girl sleep.
A short time later, Anna stirs, as if sensing a new presence at her bedside when a cool wind blows through the slightly opened fresh air window her father goes to shut.
The King sees there the colorful tinkling windchimes Anna had cherished and maintained all these years since her Daddy gave them to her and Elsa as children.
Anna had insisted Kristoff install the chimes in the garden window facing where she had planted a little weeping cherry Willow tree when Kristoff bought this cottage to be their wedded home. The Cherry tree was to be the decorative centerpiece of Anna's garden with cascades of pink flowers along the pendulum branches yet to first blossom and grow this Spring.
Anna wanted this weeping willow outside her window, not just because it was pretty, but also because it reminded the little girl in her of happy carefree days playing with Elsa. Together as a family, as Elsa and Mama looked on and laughed, her wonderful Papa would pick up baby Anna to reach high and climb the big Willow's lovely pendulum branches. situated in the back of the Castle.
How Anna loved swinging from them with her sister, never fearing she nor Elsa would fall because their first hero was always there to catch them even when they slipped.
Tears filled his eyes just as sweet memories of childhood days of yore filled the King's heart, of little girls' bright laughter and warm hugs in the sunshine filled the unending days spent with 'Daddy's girls.'
The sound of the tinkling porcelain wind chimes in the shape of seven little dwarfs that her talented Papa brought home to them from one naval visit to Holland where the fields were snow white and legends of fairytale little men of Dutch folklore inspired his shipboard sculpting.
Though a few of the funny dwarfs many porcelain statuettes were greyed with age, their noses chipped, and their hats weatherworn, each stood as a testament to a father's patient and abiding love for his baby girls.
The King of Arendelle may have been erroneous in his choice to keep Anna ignorant of her sister's growing ice powers, but he did it with only the reason of fatherly protection and great love to safeguard both of his most precious treasures from hurting one another unintentionally, as children were wont to do.
For the Ice King now knew how it also broke his beloved Elsa's heart to have caused her baby sister such danger and harm and could have cost her life all these years ago.
As head of his wondrous family, the young father himself had pledged before the Almighty to keep those, blessedly placed in his care, safe and Agdar took that ultimate responsibility very seriously.
The King of Norway's melodic baritone softly begins to sing a soulful hymn, just as he had to his tree climbing Daddy's girl all those years ago when growing up, Anna still wanted to climb up and up and up the tree limbs fearlessly with her first hero at her side.
His troubles melted then in that warm sunlight, if only momentarily, and Anna's Papa would laugh along with her in those beautiful days as he propped his baby girl up, to climb higher and higher.
Towards the bright sun in the blue sky that optimistic Princess Anna always believed would be limitless. Even in the dark days of her lonely youth with her big sister/ best friend Elsa being so close and yet so far away, Anna reached for the sky.
She always believed her sister was swinging and climbing in those trees beside her still in spirit, with their beloved Papa watching over close by, to lovingly raise them up with his song.
"'Nearer, my God, to Thee, nearer to Thee.
E'en though it be a cross that raiseth me;
Still all my song shall be nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer, my God, to Thee, nearer to Thee.
Though like the wanderer, the sun gone down,
Darkness be over me, my rest a stone;
Yet in my dreams I'd be nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer, my God, to Thee, nearer to Thee
There let the way appear steps unto Heav'n;
All that Thou sendest me in mercy giv'n;
Angels to beckon me nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer, my God, to Thee, nearer to Thee.
Then with my waking thoughts bright with Thy praise,
Out of my stony griefs Bethel I'll raise;
So by my woes to be nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer, my God, to Thee, nearer to Thee.
Through trees on joyful wing, cleaving the sky,
Sun, moon, and stars forgot, upwards I fly,
Still all my song shall be, nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer, my God, to Thee, nearer to Thee.
There in my Father's home, safe and at rest,
There in my Saviour's love, perfectly blest;
Age after age to be, nearer my God to Thee,
Nearer, my God, to Thee, nearer to Thee."
Anna smiles in her sleep, just as she did when she was tiny girl, believing, with endless faith, that all would work out in the end. In her dreams then, that now had come to fruition in reality, she and Elsa would be bosom friends again.
And all the world there, full of flowers and trees, snowfields and sleighbells, would be happy and safe. Because she knew her good, loving Papa was always near, and always would be there for she and Elsa both, because they were 'Daddy's girls.'
King Agdar was surprised to open his eyes closed in prayer and feel his darling little girl's tiny paw slip into his cool one with her affectionate warmth, even if she was feeling queasy.
"I love you, Papa." Anna sleepily whispers to her Father whose integrity and conviction, and caring love, gave her the courage to face this new challenge ahead of her.
'The righteous who walks in His integrity— blessed are his children who come after him.' – Proverbs 20:7
"Nearer, my God, to Thee" - Sarah Flower Adams & Lowell Mason 1841
Papai – Daddy in Portuguese
Pai – Father in Portuguese
O Garotinho – 'Little boy' in Portuguese
Sonho Garotinho – 'Dreamboy' in Portuguese
Min hviddue – 'my dove' in Danish
Greetings, Frozen friends!
HAPPY FATHER'S DAY!
I wish you and your special guy a super great Father's Day!
Like Anna and her Papa Agdar, I hope you're enjoying the memories of how he protected and watched over you growing up! (Even when they're tough fellas to know sometimes, you know your Dads cared for you with love, wanting to keep you safe and what's best for his children!)
The Lord blessed me with my Buddy, who has stood by us through thick and thin, watched out for and protected from rainstorms and endured driving lessons, and still had time to be our playmate and Lone Ranger/ British mysteries / old movies watching TV friend.
So, to our #1 first protector and leader and hero most of all, who has taught this Daddy's girl so much about how to build and plant and make and create and dream, I could never say : 'Thank you!' enough, Daddy!
We love being your Daddy's Girls!
Give your hardworking Dad an extra big hug this weekend to say how much you appreciated his work and sacrifice to love and raise you up into who you are today!
God bless!
HarukaKou
P.S. Wasn't Kristoff cute asking his prickly Father-in-law about the responsibility and joys of fatherhood? I agree with King Agdar that Kristly will make a great Daddy! ^_^
