Chapter 16: Survivors

Anna could not sleep.

It wasn't that she wasn't tired. These past days had been some of the longest of her life—and coming from someone who once pulled an all-nighter to climb to the top of the North Mountain, that was saying something. But even though her muscles were sore and her very bones ached with fatigue, sleep would not take her.

Every time she closed her eyes, she could only see Elsa bleeding through her bandages on the infirmary bed. She dreaded the nightmares that would come if she did allow herself to finally drift off. The nightmares were worse.

She rolled over between the sheets, turning away from Kristoff's slumbering form to glance out the window. The curtains were drawn open, an old habit from her childhood. Wisps of cloud floated in the deep night sky. Behind them, she saw faint ribbons of green light dancing between the stars.

The sky's awake.

With a quiet sigh, she extricated herself from under Kristoff's arm, making sure not to wake him as she slid carefully to the edge of the bed. Blowing a stray tuft of hair from her face, she tiptoed to the bedroom door and stole out into the hallway.

The silence of the castle in the dead of night held a special place in Anna's heart. It reminded her of simpler times, when her parents would tuck her into bed and she would sneak down to the library after they'd fallen asleep to spend the wee hours hungrily poring over romance novels by candlelight. Her feet made the same soft padding sounds on the carpeted floor, and for a few precious breaths she could almost lose herself in her memories and forget that her world had been turned upside-down.

Almost.

She wasn't sure where she was planning on going. By instinct, her feet followed a familiar path through the halls. She found herself slowing as she approached her sister's bedroom.

Even after she had married Henrik, Elsa still spent much of her time in her room. Though she rarely slept there anymore, she used it as her study and went there whenever she needed space to think. Although Elsa had never explicitly said anything, Anna suspected she still held onto the sense of security the closed door gave her—especially during times of stress.

Her sister's door was closed. Flickering yellow light filtered out from the seams in the doorframe. Anna raised a hand to knock, hesitating for the briefest of moments.

Tap tap tap-tap tap.

"Elsa? Elsa, are you in there?"

No response.

Frowning, she tried turning the door handle. It was unlocked. She eased the door open, poking her head inside.

The room was dimly lit by two racks of candles: one on the windowsill and the other above her sister's desk. The desk itself was covered in neatly-arranged stacks of documents and parchment. The lower half of the desk was currently occupied by Elsa's head. The Queen was slumped over in her chair, dressed in a purple silk nightgown. Her head rested on her arms, her usually immaculate platinum-blonde hair undone in an unruly cascade over her shoulder.

Shoulders which shook to the sound of soft, weak sobs.

In a flash, Anna was at her sister's side, wrapping a gentle arm around her Elsa's waist.

"Shh, hey, it's alright. What's wrong? Talk to me."

She felt Elsa's back stiffen. Her sister turned, hastily wiping tears from her eyes.

"Anna, I… why aren't you asleep?"

She smiled sheepishly. "The sky's awake?"

Elsa smiled back, but it did nothing to dull the immense sadness in her eyes. Anna leaned closer.

"Come on Elsa, talk to me, please?"

Elsa took a shuddering breath.

"H… Henrik is gone. The only person other than you who really, truly understood me, cared for me, loved me… the only man who I ever dared to love. Just, gone." She was biting back tears. "Thomas doesn't have a father anymore, Anna," she whispered, her voice trembling.

"Oh, Elsa." Anna pulled her sister into a tight embrace. She felt Elsa's tears soak into the shoulder of her own nightgown. "Henrik may be gone, but you still have me. And Tom still has you."

Elsa pulled away, sniffling.

"But for how long, Anna?" Her sister's voice was raspy from crying. "Don't you see? This is all because of me. My powers, my curse. Isn't this what Pabbie warned about from the beginning?" Her voice was barely audible now. "Henrik died because of me."

There was a soft crackling sound as veins of frost began to spread up the leg of the desk.

Anna cupped Elsa's face in her hands.

"No, Elsa. The actions of evil men are not on your hands. This is not your fault."

"Anna, listen to me." Her sister's gaze abruptly grew intense. "Those assassins carried weapons and letters from Weselton. And now there's a prisoner down in the dungeons who says the Southern Isles is to blame. There is no way my powers don't have something to do with this!"

"Look, Elsa, even if that were true, that doesn't make it your fault…"

Something on Elsa's desk caught Anna's attention. She gently picked up the piece of parchment, the fingers of her other hand moving to lace between her sister's. Fresh ink shone in the candlelight, arranged in the beautiful shapes of Elsa's flowery cursive. As she read the words on the page, however, she was filled with a sudden dread. Her grip on her sister's hand tightened.

"Elsa, what's this?"

"It's the proclamation I'm giving tomorrow."

"And what's this about you sailing for the Southern Isles?" Anna's voice pitched higher in panic. "When were you going to tell me about this?!"

"Anna, please don't make this harder than it has to be." Elsa's voice took on a pleading tone. "Thomas is out there as we speak. I need to protect him." Her sister's voice broke. "I can't lose him, too."

Anna stared at the parchment for a long moment. As she placed it back on the desk, she locked eyes with Elsa determinedly.

"I'm coming with you."

"Anna, no. Someone needs to look after the kingdom while I'm gone."

"Elsa, literally any of your advisors would be better at that than me. That's an excuse and you know it." She folded her arms over her chest. Her sister sighed, her gaze directed toward the floor.

"I can't let you follow me into the lion's den," Elsa whispered. "I need to know that you're safe."

"I'm safest when I'm with you," Anna retorted.

"After everything that's happened, that couldn't be farther from the truth!" her sister cried in exasperation.

"Oh yeah? Who else has crazy amazing ice powers to protect me?" Anna sensed her opening, and she took it. "What if someone else attacks while you're gone?"

Elsa recoiled as if physically struck. Anna felt a small measure of guilt at the dirty victory.

"Just… let me come with you. Please?" she asked softly. "I'll stay out of harm's way, I promise."

Her sister's shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Once we're on that ship, you will do exactly as I say." Elsa looked to her with steel in her eyes. "If I tell you to flee, you will not hesitate, no matter what happens. Is that clear?"

"Crystal," Anna piped.

"Good." Her sister's expression softened.

Anna scooped her sister into another tight hug. This time, she felt Elsa lean into the embrace.

"You have to give yourself a break, sis," she murmured in a soothing tone. "When was the last time you slept?"

"I can't, Anna. Nightmares," Elsa mumbled into her shoulder.

"You too, huh?" Anna chuckled sadly. She got up and walked across the room to Elsa's bed. It was so much smaller than she remembered.

"Come on, I'll sing you a lullaby."

Elsa slowly rose from her chair and sat down next to her on the bed, resting her head in the crook of Anna's shoulder. Anna began humming. She felt Elsa relax as her sister's body sank into hers. She idly brushed back stray platinum strands from her sister's forehead.

"Anna?" Elsa murmured.

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

Elsa's breathing slowed and deepened as Anna continued to hum. Soon, she had fallen asleep in Anna's lap.

The room behind the balcony had never seemed so empty.

Elsa checked herself in the mirror on the wall a final time. Her face stared back at her, her features as expressionless and cold as if they had been hewn from a block of ice. The redness rimming her eyes from the night before had been concealed under elegant strokes of eyeliner, the bags under them hidden expertly under a thin layer of makeup. Her hair was done up in an elaborate braided bun, wrapping around her head like a crown. She wore a flowing navy blue dress that covered her from her neck to the floor, its bodice lightly embroidered with crystals of ice.

She would not wear her mourning colours yet. Not until Thomas was safe.

She glanced at the tiara sitting on its velvet cushion by the mirror, then shook her head at herself.

Not today.

Clenching her hands with resolve, Elsa turned to the guards standing at attention by the balcony doors.

"Open the doors."

The hinges swung open silently, letting the pale winter's sun wash over her. She clasped her hands in front of her and strode into the light, her posture poised and regal. Kai greeted her from the balcony.

"Presenting Her Majesty the Queen, Elsa of Arendelle!" he announced to the crowd.

The hubbub of the townsfolk died down as their queen came into view. A thousand expectant eyes gazed up at her from the courtyard below. Elsa took a deep breath.

"Thank you for gathering here today on such short notice. For those of your family and friends who could not make it, I trust you will inform them of what I am about to share with you." She paused, placing her hands on the balcony railing. "My son's eighteenth birthday was three days ago. During the celebration, three men were able to sneak into the castle. At approximately two hours past noon, an attack was made against King Henrik and me. The King was killed."

A hushed gasp rose from the crowd as murmurs began to break out. Elsa pushed on.

"All the men responsible have either been executed or apprehended by the Royal Guard. Their motives are as of yet unclear, and their origin is currently unknown, but for the moment I can assure you that we have dealt with the immediate threat. My own sorrow is immeasurable, but I cannot mourn until the perpetrators of the attack are found. The people behind this heinous act must be brought to justice. To that end, I will be sailing for the Southern Isles with a diplomatic envoy to follow a lead uncovered during interrogation of one of the prisoners. In my absence, I leave Governor Halvor as my proxy until my return."

She swept over the crowd with her gaze.

"Stay strong, my people. Though we have been struck by tragedy, Arendelle will endure."

Raising her head high, she turned and strode back into the castle. The balcony doors closed behind her with a low thud. With a sigh, she allowed her posture to slump as she took a moment to lean against the wall.

"Your Majesty, is everything alright?" called Kai from behind her, concern touching his tone.

"No, Kai." She turned to give the aged servant a small smile. "But it will be."

"Is there anything I can do to ease your mind, Your Majesty?"

"Please send for Admiral Felix to see me in my study in an hour. I must discuss final preparations for the journey."

Kai bowed. "Consider it done, Your Majesty."

Elsa listened as Kai's footsteps faded down the hallway. After a few breaths to steady herself, she drew herself upright and made swiftly in the direction of the dungeons, gesturing for the guards to follow.

There was one other person she needed to talk to.

Marcus Everett yanked halfheartedly at the chains securing him to the floor of the dungeon cell. He hissed in pain. The cuffs were beginning to wear his skin raw. He considered dislocating his right thumb to free his hand so he could try to get his feet undone before he realized that it was a fool's errand without a left hand to begin with.

The door to his cell had not opened again since the sorcerer prince had come to interrogate him. On two occasions, a plate of grey, tasteless gruel had been pushed into reach from the slot at the bottom. They had not provided him with a spoon to eat it with, so he had to slurp it from the bowl like a dog. The waste-bucket had begun to fill up, and the smell was becoming unbearable.

He held no illusions of hope in his mind at this point. He had been caught with the same group of men who killed the King of Arendelle. The only reason they were even keeping him alive was so they could have him publicly executed. He lazily considered putting up enough of a ruckus that he could provoke a premature execution at a guard's blade to save himself the ordeal. He had heard that the methods of killing those convicted of treason were particularly unpleasant.

The sound of footsteps outside his cell door shook him from his dark thoughts. He heard metal sliding against metal as the locking mechanism was undone. The door opened, revealing a stern-faced guard. The man walked in and retrieved the waste-bucket with an expression of disdain.

"Man's got to take a shit, don't he?" Marcus cackled.

More voices sounded from the doorway.

"... here. Are you sure about this?"

"Yes, he can hardly harm me." It was a woman's voice.

"Very well, Your Majesty."

Before Marcus could fully register the implication behind the words, the woman to whom the voice belonged strode into his cell. She seemed utterly out of place in the darkness and filth of the dungeon. She wore a fine, flowing navy dress that reached to the floor. Her ice blue eyes stared out at him from a pale, flawless face framed by striking white hair.

A familiar face. Sounds of gunfire echoed in his memory.

Under any other circumstances, he would have been mesmerized by the woman's beauty, but he felt his eyes drawn instead to the crystal patterns embellishing her dress. His eyes widened as he saw the way they refracted the dim light shining from the barred window.

They were made of ice. The same ice that had impaled that other man with metre-long spikes.

The woman swung the door of the cell gently shut behind her. She took a step toward him, fixing him with a gaze that belied ice-cold detachment. Marcus found himself shuffling backward on the cot.

"You… you're her," he stammered. "The Snow Queen."

"Some call me by that name, yes." She took another step toward him. "From what my guards tell me, you're the man who tried to kill my son in Corona three years ago."

Marcus could swear the air was getting colder.

"I didn't have a choice!" he found himself crying before he could stop himself. "They were going to kill me if I didn't-"

"And who is 'they'?" The Queen's voice carried a calm, undeniable authority.

"Some bloody noble, I never caught his name. Look, he had his guards about to string me up and slit my throat. I would never have agreed to a job like that if my hands weren't tied!"

The Queen was silent for a moment. Her hard eyes burned into him, as if searching his very soul.

She can't do that, can she? Marcus swallowed, trying to steel his nerves.

"Why did you tell my son that the Southern Isles sent you?" the Queen asked abruptly.

"Because it's the truth! They had me locked in their dungeon for two years and they promised me my freedom after this job." He paused, another memory rising to the surface. "Although one of the other men tried to kill me with his last breath, so I doubt that promise would have been kept," he grumbled bitterly.

The Queen studied him with an unreadable expression. Her next words came out slowly.

"So the Southern Isles weren't the ones who sent you to kill my son in Corona?"

Marcus shook his head. "I don't think so. They were wearing different uniforms that first time, had different accents."

The Queen was silent. Her gaze shifted as her eyes narrowed in thought. Her left hand moved into the folds of her dress, reappearing with a slip of parchment which she held out to Marcus. He took the piece of paper cautiously, skimming it over.

"What's this?"

"I was hoping you could tell me." The Queen's tone was even, emotionless.

Marcus's brow furrowed as he read over the message in more detail.

"Looks to be some kind of bounty on the King," he replied haltingly. "But I've never seen this letter before in my life."

The Queen raised a delicate eyebrow.

"Really? We retrieved it from the body of one of your accomplices."

Marcus scowled in spite of his growing fear.

"I didn't even know the names of those other men! I was only told to follow them while they did their dirty work."

He thought he saw the Queen's perfect composure crack for the barest moment to be replaced by an expression of intense fatigue and pain. When he looked again, however, it was gone.

"And that symbol," she continued, gesturing to the stamp at the bottom of the letter. "It means nothing to you?"

"It looks official," Marcus frowned. "Beyond that, nothing."

The Queen nodded, more to herself than to him. She moved back to the cell door and knocked on it twice. Immediately, the door swung open, revealing the same stern-faced guard.

"Yes, Your Majesty?"

"Have this man bathed and clothed more appropriately for travel. Then have him moved aboard the Northwind."

"Right away, Your Majesty."

Marcus's brow furrowed as the meaning behind the Queen's words sunk in. He rushed forward on the bed, shackles pulling taut with a painful jerk.

"Wait! What's happening?" he yelled.

The Queen turned in the doorway, her expression stern and impassive.

"I'm taking you with me to the Southern Isles."

The door closed with a hard slam. Marcus slumped back onto his cot, trying to steady his rapid breathing.

He had just been face to face with the Snow Queen of Arendelle herself. The woman whose husband he had helped murder. Hesitantly, he looked around the room. There was not a hint of ice to be found anywhere.

It was a while before his breathing calmed.

Well at least I'm not fucking dead, he mused sourly. Yet.

Hans struggled in the firm grip of the guards that were practically frog-marching him down the hallway. The doors to the King's court slammed open in front of him, bathing him in harsh yellow light. The grand pillars surrounding the edges of the court came into view, towering to gradiose heights before they met the frescoes on the ceiling. His eldest brother stood by the throne, currently in animated conversation with a younger woman whose face was hidden by curly locks of black hair. As he drew closer, Hans recognized her as Princess Iona, Mathias's only heir.

Noticing the intrusion, the King immediately turned to face the entourage, dismissing his daughter with a wave. Iona took a few steps behind the throne, surveying the situation with curiosity. Mathias looked like he was about to protest, but fixed his furious gaze on Hans instead.

"Welcome home, brother." Mathias's tone was anything but welcoming. "Care to explain this fine little fiasco you've dragged back with you?"

Hans yanked his arms free from the guards holding him before sinking to one knee.

"Your Majesty, I assure you the situation is not as it seems," he stated calmly, keeping his gaze fixed firmly to the floor under the King's feet.

"Is that so? Perhaps you could begin, then, by explaining how an unarmed fishing boat managed to sink one of our best warships! Or how the entire mainland has been struck by a blizzard in the middle of November! Or perhaps-" Mathias's voice grew low and deadly "-you can explain the soldiers found impaled in the streets by icicles the size of lamp posts!"

Hans did not move.

"Your Majesty, I believe we have in custody Crown Prince Thomas of Arendelle," he stated flatly. "The prince shares in his mother's powers and went on a rampage through the city after he arrived yesterday afternoon."

He saw his brother's shining boots move down the stairs from the throne to stop right under his nose.

"You knew the prince had the Snow Queen's powers and yet you elected to keep this information from me, Spymaster?"

Hans swallowed involuntarily.

"Your Majesty, I believe that with Prince Thomas in our hands we wield more power than we ever did framing Weselton."

"Do you now?" The boots began to pace. "And how did young Prince Thomas decide to pay a visit to our shores in the first place, Spymaster? How is it that he went on a rampage through our streets and not the streets of Weselton?" The boots stopped.

"Look at me, Hans."

Hans turned his gaze upward to find his brother's face mere centimetres from his own. The King's eyes were wide with barely-contained rage.

"I am going to tell you exactly what is going to happen. The Crown Prince of Arendelle will either bow to my wishes himself or be held ransom in exchange for the Snow Queen's aid in destroying Weselton. Everything will proceed as planned henceforth." Mathias turned back toward his throne, moving two steps away from Hans's kneeling figure. "But the fact of the matter stands, brother. You have utterly and spectacularly failed me."

A suffocating sense of unease constricted Hans's chest. He stood instinctively, but as he tried to back away from the throne, he found his arms pinned once more by the guards flanking him. Still facing away from him, his brother slowly brought his right hand to the hilt of the glittering ceremonial longsword he wore at his hip.

Ceremonial, but still deadly.

"In light of these events, it would appear that I will be needing to employ a more capable Spymaster."

The King drew the sword with a ringing of metal, whirling back to face Hans with the blade held high. Hans struggled with all his might against the grip of the guards holding him, but the men held him in place, immobile as a set of vices.

Suddenly, another voice pierced the tense air.

"Papa, no!"

Princess Iona dashed forward from her position behind the throne, grabbing onto her father's arm just as he was about to make his strike. The King spun and struck his daughter savagely across the face with his free hand, leaving her staggering backward from the blow.

"Iona, how dare you…" Mathias sputtered in fury.

"Please, Papa, he's your own brother, you can't just kill him!" the princess cried, holding a hand to her bruised cheek as tears began to well in her green eyes.

Mathias stared back at her, his whole body trembling with rage. With a sob, the princess covered her face with her hands and dashed from the room.

"Iona, wait!" the King shouted after her.

Mathias sheathed his sword slowly, breathing hard. Hans noticed his brother's shoulders had lost some of their tension. The King turned back to regard him, embers still burning in his gaze.

"Lock him in the dungeons," he growled to the guards with a dismissive wave. "Get this slime out of my sight!"

Mathias stormed off in the direction of his daughter as Hans felt himself pulled bodily back in the direction of the hallway. His heart beat a rapid rhythm in his chest as he tried to calm himself after the panic of the confrontation.

Not dead yet, he thought faintly as he was dragged down flight after flight of stairs.

Soundtrack: "Royal Rage"

Two Steps From Hell – "Requiem for Destruction"