Chapter Sixteen
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Knock-knock-knock.
Elsa looked up from the book she was reading, startled, and called, "Hello?"
Her bedroom door opened, and a certain auburn-haired prince peeked his head in. "Good evening," he greeted. "May I come in?"
"Well, I don't see how it could hurt," she said wryly, "seeing as Anna, Kristoff and even Olaf have been checking up on me all day." She really did look like an invalid: she was lying upright against the pillows on her bed and draped in a white woolen blanket, which was undoubtedly the work of her sister, reading a novel through her half-moon glasses.
"That sounds like them," Hans agreed, walking inside. He was holding some sort of bundle in his hands, which he set down on her dresser. "How are you feeling?"
"Fine." He gave her a doubtful look, and she sighed in frustration, taking off her glasses. "I mean it. The shakiness wore off hours ago, but Anna still won't let me out of bed. She can be very over-protective."
"Well, if she were sick and you were the one taking care of her, I'm sure you'd be much the same," he pointed out.
"But I'm not sick!" she grumbled. "I really do feel fine, but I doubt she'll let me out of bed until tomorrow at the earliest. She did agree to stop checking up on me, though."
"You're certain you're feeling alright?" he questioned.
She gave him a look and got out of bed, gesturing to her perfect ability to stand on her own two feet. "Absolutely positive."
"Then here." He retrieved what appeared to be a few articles of clothing from the bundle and brought them over to her. "Put these on."
"What?" she demanded, accepting what appeared to be a gray woolen hat and a pair of mittens. "Why? Where did you get these?"
"From the spares in the kitchen. We," he said, quickly donning a scarf, "Are going to a play."
She stared. "A play?"
"You said you'd never seen one, right?" he said, glancing over at her.
"Well, yes, but-"
"So why don't you go see one tonight? I heard word in the town that the children are performing their pageant."
Elsa hesitated, looking down at the hat and gloves doubtfully. "…I don't know. I've never…snuck out before."
"Snuck out? It's your castle; this isn't 'sneaking out.'" He saw her face, and amended, "If you really don't want to go, we don't have to."
"No, I want to; it's just…" She bit her lip, and then admitted, "I'm just nervous. I've never been out of the castle before without telling someone, and if they found me, out there, with you, unchaparoned-"
"Elsa," Hans interrupted, adjusting his gloves.
"Queen Elsa," she corrected.
"Queen Elsa. It's not as if you're some rebellious teenager sneaking out through your window to dance the night away. You're an adult woman leaving in a perfectly legitimate manner to see a children's pageant, with a man you're supposedly engaged to. This is about as daring as eating sweets before dinner."
She had to chuckle at that. "If it's not 'daring,' as you say, then why do we have to wear disguises? Since clearly these-" She held up the hat and gloves, "-aren't a necessity to me."
"I assumed you didn't want to be recognized and badgered by your adoring subjects." When she still looked hesitant, he said, "Your Majesty, you can either stay cooped up in here and wish you'd come, or we can go see a pageant." He nodded towards the doorway. "The choice is yours."
She bit her lip, and then put on the hat.
Elsa had never had so much fun in her life.
Alright, well, perhaps that was an overstatement- after all, building her ice castle had been positively euphoric, and spending time with Anna, of course, never failed to lift her spirits. But short of magical adventures and the like, she hadn't had a more enjoyable time in years.
After sneaking out the back door of the kitchen and past the guards (who really needed a refresher tutorial on guarding if they couldn't even catch a well-known would-be convict and a well-known ice-casting queen), Elsa had conveniently frozen a walkway across the fjords, allowing the two to make their way to the docks. They'd then followed the people to the town square and had blended in with the crowds, taking a pair of seats near the aisle to ensure a good view.
Elsa had loved watching the play, delighted to see the well-known story brought to life. When the pageant was finished, they walked around for a bit, talking and laughing. With the gloves, hat, heavy dress and cloak, no one thought to recognize her as the chill-impervious Ice Queen. It was nice, Elsa decided, to be able to go about as a peasant, if only for a night. It was as if all the burdens of ruling a kingdom had suddenly disappeared.
"-The sheep were adorable," she said with a grin. "And the one who said 'moo' instead of 'baa'-"
"Their director looked ready to have an aneurism," Hans agreed, laughing.
As they passed by a stand, still talking, the vender called out, "Hot cider! Get your hot apple cider!"
"Oh!" Elsa turned impulsively. "Apple cider? How much is it?"
"Just two øre, miss; that's all."
She took her glove off and reached into the inner pocket of her cloak, and only remembered that she hadn't brought any money when her hand scratched the bottom of the pocket. "Oh, I'm afraid I'll have to pass," she said apologetically. "I must have forgotten my money at the-" she caught herself, "-at home."
"Don't worry about it; it's on me," Hans said, handing over the four copper coins.
"Really, you don't have to-"
"I said not to worry about it," he said with a slight smile, handing her a steaming cup of piping hot apple cider. As they continued to walk, he commented, "I'll admit, I'm surprised someone of your… particular disposition… would favor a drink like apple cider."
"Oh, I've always loved it, ever since I was a little girl," she said happily, and then took a sip. "Mm…"
"Slow down, or you'll give yourself a brain melt."
She gave him a dubious look. "'Brain melt?'"
"Well, I assume you can't get brain freezes."
She rolled her eyes good-naturedly and took another sip. "I ought to do this more often."
"Drink apple cider?"
"Explore the town," she amended. "Anna comes here so often that these people are practically family to her; I hardly know them at all. I'm always so nervous that I won't know the right thing to say or do…"
"Can I ask you something?" Hans inquired. She shrugged her agreement. "You're a very well-mannered person, your people adore you, your council thinks you're the best thing since buttered lefse… yet you don't seem to be very close to anyone except your sister and Sir Bjorgman. Why?"
"I don't know. I suppose I just… don't want to disappoint them. My subjects, I mean," she amended.
"They already know about your ice powers; what is there left to hide? Do you have a fire-breathing dragon locked up in your dungeons or something?"
"No, no, nothing like that. I'm just, well…" She shrugged. "I'm different that most people."
"You don't say," he deadpanned.
She shook her head. "It's not even just my powers. I don't act like other people, I don't think like other people… I'm not, well, relatable."
"What do you mean?" he asked, sounding genuinely interested.
Elsa bit her lip for a second, and then admitted, "I've always been a fast learner; I mastered almost every skill that was ever required of me: diplomacy, politics, philosophy- and now I've mastered this." With a swift removal of her glove and a snap of her fingers, a snowflake burst to life in the air, and then disappeared. "But I'm not very good at understanding people. And yes, I know part of that comes from keeping them at an arm's length for the better part of my life, but that doesn't help." She shrugged slightly, pulling her glove back on. "I suppose I'm afraid that if I let them get to know me well enough, they'll see that and stop thinking so highly of me."
"It seems to me that you feel more often like an observer than a participator; on the outside versus on the inside, as it were," Hans assessed. "Am I reading that right?"
"Yes, exactly. Most people don't consider a discussion on political philosophy their idea of a good time," she said dryly. "But I don't mind it so much, really. Anna is happy with Kristoff, and I… well, I'm happy on my own. But sometimes…"
"…Sometimes it would be nice, to be understood," he finished.
She glanced up at him, surprised at his astute perception, and then smiled and nodded. As they continued to walk, she said, "So you subscribe to Plato's philosophy of government?"
"Well, of course, it's a thoroughly hypothetical model," Hans corrected, "it would never work in real life, and there are significant issues with some of its social programs."
"Indeed."
"But, his insights into the prudently ruled city were...refreshing, to say the least, after watching my father and brother continue my family's long tradition of misgovernment. Although I won't deny I got lost when the City became a spiritual metaphor..." Elsa laughed, and his eyes twinkled as he teased her: "And what do you think? Are you a 'golden soul,' my queen?"
"I agree with Plato in part, but his idea of a system run absolutely by two elected wise men rests on the twin premises that the wisdom of said men is so profound that their mistakes are negligible, as well as that the people they govern won't rebel against their rule."
Hans chuckled. "Do you fear a rebellion, Queen Elsa?"
"No; my people seem relatively happy with their monarch."
"Then you do not trust your own wisdom?"
"Not impeccably, no. I'm not infallible; that's why I have a council. Some of them are lords and ladies by birth, others are representatives that the people elect themselves." She quirked an eyebrow. "I was under the impression that the Southern Isles had a rather different system of governance."
He rolled his eyes. "My brothers and I—well, formerly I—they make up Agnar's council. They essentially only serve to affirm his decisions for him."
"Then the people have no say in their own government?"
"No; that's all handled by my brothers. It makes for a rather one-sided system, don't you think?"
"I don't know if I should say," she said with faux wariness.
He snorted. "Don't worry; I'm not about to tattle to my brother. And you? You said you favored Aristotle."
"I do. His idea of a society governed by the will of the people was certainly beyond its time."
"I hear the Colonies Across the Sea have taken up something similar," Hans commented. "It's interesting that a monarch should theoretically favor a politeia system."
"I play with the hand I've been dealt," she answered simply. "I was born to be a queen, and so I've decided to be a just one who takes the advice of her subjects. In any case, I believe my people have a right to their say in their government."
"Perhaps a combination of the two theories may serve the best," Hans mused. "I think it could work rather well. A pair of wise leaders who defer–"
"-to an elected council-"
"-for the sake of their people!" they finished together. Elsa smiled triumphantly and exclaimed, "Exactly."
The two looked at each other and grinned, blue meeting green. Elsa had never seen him look so light-hearted, with enthusiasm in his eyes and that easy-going smile that made her cheeks flush and stomach flutter like a thousand mad butterflies-
Wait, what?
The chiming of the town's clock tower broke the moment, and Elsa started. "Oh goodness, it's midnight! We should be getting back."
"Right, of course. Your sister will get worried."
Elsa sighed. "Sometimes I think I'm the only thing she worries about. She's so carefree- perhaps not always for the better. In any case, we'd better go." She could hear herself talking, but her words felt almost automatic. They walked back to the castle, whereupon their conversation ended as they concentrated on sneaking back in without getting caught. When they reached the top of the stairs to the floor with the royal chambers, Hans bade Elsa a goodnight and then continued on his way to the next floor up, where the guest rooms were situated.
Elsa walked back to her room almost in a daze and slipped inside, locking the door behind her. She leaned against the white-painted wood, taking off the hat and gloves and wringing her hands, distressed. What was the matter with her? How could she so casually be- be having fun with the man? And that feeling she'd had in the village… happy and sort of dizzied and excited…
Elsa wasn't stupid. Inexperienced in the ways of emotions and romance, yes. More capable of understanding mathematics and politics than her own heart, yes. But certainly not stupid. She knew that that sort of feeling was what every romance novelist out there, not to mention her own sister, described as developing an attraction. Or, as Anna would put it… falling in love.
"What is the matter with you, Elsa?" she groaned. "He tried to kill you. He broke Anna's heart!"
The snow was starting to swirl around her, and she began to panic. "No no no…" Elsa took a deep breath. "Think about love. Love will thaw…"
Love? a little voice whispered in her head. What would you know about love? Isn't love what got you into this mess in the first place?
The snow was swirling faster now. Elsa closed her eyes tight. "Get it together, Elsa. Think about Anna."
Anna? the voice hissed demandingly. You mean Anna, your sister to whom you owe everything, your sister whom you're betraying? Maybe you do belong with him. Look at yourself! You're both traitors, after all! Both monsters! She flinched visibly as the winds roared and reached their peak.
"No," she mumbled, trying to find her voice. "I'm not- I don't want-" Something jabbed through her mind, sharp and sheer. "I'm not the traitor. He is. He's the one who betrayed Anna! He's to blame for this, not me! He's the criminal, the murderer! He's the monster, not me!"
She slammed her foot into the ground, and the winds shot out in all directions, changing to snow and then to ice. Fast as lightning, the ice fractured up the walls and curled down like dark, blue-black claws, jagged and menacing. Elsa stared, stunned. Even when she'd been terrified and running for her life, she'd never created anything so…ugly.
Elsa pulled her hands in close, wringing them with nervousness. Well, at least the snow had stopped. Taking several slow, deep breaths, she walked over to her window, cracked the ice that had sealed around it, and opened the shutters. After peeking her head outside to make sure no one was watching, she turned back to the icicles in the room and tried to concentrate on her bubbly little sister, on Anna's smile and nothing else. Slowly, much more slowly than she wanted, the ice began to retreat, pulling away into snowflakes and creating a small, hovering sphere of snow in the center of her room. Elsa sent the snow out into the courtyard, and then closed her window with a sigh.
"Conceal it, don't feel it," she instructed herself, taking a slow breath. "This isn't real. Don't fall for your own illusion."
Because that was what this had to be: an illusion. There was no chance that the man who had tried to kill her had changed so completely. There was no way that the monster who had betrayed her sister, fooled her country and threatened her life—that man with the manic gleam in his eye, the sword in his hand—could have had enough goodness left inside him to really change. Good people didn't commit murder. They just didn't.
With this set firmly in her mind, Elsa banished all thoughts of hot cider and pageants and Plato from her mind once and for all, and climbed into bed without bothering to change. This was strictly business, nothing more.
She hoped.
A/N: I love writing them as these political philosophy geeks. It's especially fun reading this several years later now that I've actually studied the Republic and the Politics.
Did you like it? Hate it? All feedback is appreciated! Pax et bonum, friends!