Chapter Twenty-One

Disclaimer: I neither own the rights to Disney, Frozen, the Disney universe nor any of its associated media, derivatives or products. I do not profit from this work.

Princess Anna of Arendelle was happily snoozing in dreamland (a world, it seemed, much more pleasant than the real one) when the door to her bedroom opened, and soft bare feet padded along the hardwood over to her bed.

"Anna," a familiar female voice whispered, and a hand lightly shook her shoulder. "Anna, wake up."

The redhead opened her eyes groggily and looked out her window. "Elsa, it's still dark out," she groaned, closing them again.

"Anna, it's Santa Lucia day," Elsa whispered. Anna's eyes opened again in surprise, and she rolled over to look at her older sister. Elsa smiled back, and Anna realized that a red sash had indeed been tied around her sister's usual white nightgown. In her hands was a silver platter from the kitchen, laden with two burning candles, twin mugs of steaming hot chocolate, and several sweet buns.

Anna smiled and sat up, rubbing her eyes. "You aren't wearing your wreath," she teased, yawning.

"Sorry. I threw this together a little last minute." Elsa sat down on the edge of her sister's bed. "I know you don't like coffee, so I brought hot cocoa instead."

"And lussekatt!" Anna quickly dug in, biting into one of the saffron buns with relish. "Mm…"

"I know we haven't done this since Mama and Papa passed, but I figured you wouldn't mind," Elsa said, wringing her hands. "You don't, do you?"

"'Ou kibbing me?" Anna said through her full mouth. "Thib ib fantathtic!"

Elsa smiled. "I'm glad you like it." She looked around the room. "Do you remember when we were children, how Mama used to get me up early, and we'd come wake you up and all eat breakfast in here?"

"How could I forget? It was one of the few times of the year I knew for sure we'd all be together- even you." Anna smiled reminiscently. "I was always so happy."

"So was I," Elsa admitted. "Nervous, of course, but… very happy."

The two smiled at each other, and then Elsa took a bite of her own saffron bun. "And just think," she said, swallowing, "next year, you'll be able to do this with your own family."

"Oh. Uh, yeah…" Anna trailed off uncomfortably, glancing away.

Elsa frowned a little, worried. "Is everything alright?"

"What? Oh, fine. Just tired, y'know." She yawned dramatically to prove her point.

Elsa nodded uncertainly and took a drink of her hot chocolate. "So," she said, setting the mug down. "Since it's a holiday, I took work off."

"Really?" Anna said, surprised.

"Yep. Got the whole schedule cleared, did all my paperwork yesterday, the works. The day is ours; we can do whatever you want to do."

Anna blinked, surprised. "Really? I mean, that's great, but… why? I'm happy, of course, just a little confused."

Elsa sighed a little. "Anna, to be honest, I feel like I've been really busy lately, and I know you've been hurt by that." The younger sister ducked her head, embarrassed. "I want to make that up to you. Besides, I'm sick to death of councils and papers and anything that requires a royal signature." Anna giggled at that, and Elsa smiled. "Let's just have fun today, okay?"

"Okay," Anna agreed happily. "I promise you one fun-filled, signature-free day." She grinned widely. "This is going to be fantastic! I've got so many ideas!"

Elsa chuckled a little nervously at that, wondering just what she'd gotten herself into.

"Get up. Up."

Someone was shaking his shoulder roughly, and Hans started and opened his eyes, looking up blearily. The blurry blotches of color and shadow focused into an already-dressed Kristoff (or perhaps he'd never changed), who was holding a lantern. "C'mon; we've got work to do."

Hans glanced out through the little crack in the tent flaps and saw that it was still dark. He got off of his cot, yawning. "How long until we begin?"

Kristoff raised an eyebrow, a little surprised; he'd been expecting the man to complain about the early awakening. "Breakfast starts in—oh, about five minutes, and we'll start working after that."

"Glad to hear it." Hans located his coat shrugged it on, not bothering to change out of his sleep-shirt. He pulled on the boots and yawned again, reaching for his muffler. "You sleep alright?"

Kristoff raised the other eyebrow, too. "Well, staying in the same tent as a homicidal sword-happy lunatic wasn't exactly relaxing," he shot.

"Don't worry; you'll get used to it," Hans replied without missing a beat, pulling on his gloves

Breakfast was a hurried affair of some cooked fish and grain meal, and then the real work began. Even before the sun rose over the eastern mountains, while the northern lights still danced in the sky, the low voices of the men could be heard, singing something about a frozen heart, born of the frigid winter air and the mountain rains. Despite the fact that Hans had watched carefully the day before, he was not very good at the work. As he tried to pull a block of ice out of the frozen river, he slipped forward and nearly tumbled headfirst into the water. One of the harvesters caught him by the shoulder and hauled him back before he could fall in. "Watch your step! Let it go."

A few of the others snickered as they watched him. "Five kroner says he quits before the day's up," one of them snorted.

Kristoff, who was standing nearby, glanced over. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, and then said, "You're on."

The man laughed. "You're out of your mind, Bjorgman."

"We'll see," Kristoff replied evenly, and went to get his saw as the others chuckled.

But Hans did not quit. Throughout the course of the day, Kristoff found himself growing grudgingly impressed. As much as he disliked the man, he had to admit he admired his tenacity. Hans hadn't complained once about the hard work all day, and ice harvesting was no easy task to those unused to such difficult labor. Even more remarkably, each time one of the others cast him a dirty look or made a snide remark, he took it unflinchingly. When at last the sun set again on the river, Kristoff called, "Alright guys; that's good for today!"

As the tired men loaded up their last few blocks and headed back to their tents, Kristoff looked to the man with whom he'd made the bet and grinned. Rolling his eyes, the other harvester retrieved several silver coins from his pocket.

"Ooh, Elsa, let's get some chocolate!"

Elsa laughed as her sister dragged her into the candy shop. It was nearing dusk, and the Queen was worn out but happy. Anna had made good on her promise to have a day absolutely packed to the brimming with fun: from building snowmen to going shopping to visiting the harbor, Elsa had barely had a moment to sit down, let alone think about him.

"Ah, hello, Princess, your Majesty," the chocolatier said with a grin. "And what would the two young misses like today?"

"Ooh, well, I'll have two milk chocolate truffles—no, make that three. And Elsa will have three dark-"

"Actually, I think I'll try the milk ones today," Elsa cut in quickly, causing Anna to glance at her surprise. "Thank you."

The chocolatier nodded and retrieved the six truffles from the glass case. As the pair walked outside, Elsa created a delicate ice bench, and they sat down to eat their chocolates. Elsa undid the packaging to the first of hers and bit into the sweet, but Anna didn't eat hers yet, still watching the elder with concern. "…Are you alright?" she said, looking over at her big sister.

"Hm? Fine. Why do you ask?"

"Well… you always get dark chocolate," she pointed out.

"So? Maybe I wanted to try something new," the Queen said defensively. She curled her hand into a fist as she noticed that a small layer of frost was spreading over the translucent railing of the bench. Conceal. Don't feel. Don't let her know.

But Anna was looking at her sympathetically. "You know, it's okay to feel anxious."

"Anxious? I'm not–"

"Elsa," she said gently, taking her hand, "open up to me, please. I know you're stressed. But don't shut yourself in again."

Don't shut yourself in. The words rolled through Elsa's mind and onto her tongue. Not, don't shut me out. Anna smiled at her reassuringly, and some of the ice in the elder sister's heart melted again. As always.

"…Anna, I'm scared," the queen admitted. Even as she said it, she realized it wasn't just half-true: she hadn't realized until that moment just how much anxiety she'd been holding in about the political situation, not merely her personal one. "I'm scared what's going to happen to us, to you…"

"Elsa, I'll be fine," her sister reassured her.

"Wars are ugly, Anna. We're lucky Hans gave us enough warning…"

"How's it going? The preparations, I mean. Is the navy gathering in the Southern Province?"

Elsa blinked. Somehow, she hadn't expected Anna to talk about all of this so seriously. I guess I've really been underestimating her... "Almost. We're about two-thirds of the way prepared, and a small contingent will arrive here in a day or two to help keep the peace. I've sent messengers south to make sure word doesn't get back to Lady Evjen or anyone else up here…"

"Smart thinking," Anna nodded. "The less people who know, the less chance of the king finding out."

"But I haven't heard back from the spies I sent to the Southern Isles, I don't know how much of their own navy they've marshaled and…oh, Anna!" Her whole body slumped against the bench as the waves of stress hit her one after the other. Frost skittered across the pier. "I don't know if I can do this…"

"Father was younger than you when Arendelle went to war last time," Anna said quietly. "He believed in you, Elsa." She gripped her sister's hand tight. "And so do I."

Elsa wiped the brimming tears away from her eyes and smiled. "Thank you, Anna. I think I needed to hear that."

"Sure thing." Then her face broke into a sunny smile. "C'mon, there's nothing you can do about it right now, right? Let's take your mind off it—talk about fun stuff."

"Speaking of," said the queen, relaxing a bit, "How's everything going with the wedding?"

"Oh, um, pretty good," Anna said, giving a quick, nervous little laugh. "Everything's great."

"Have you thought about decorating the church yet?"

"Oh, I thought I'd ask you to do it."

"Really? Well, I'd be happy to, of course. And the cake-"

"Look, Elsa, can't we talk about something else?" Anna interjected.

Elsa stopped, stared. Her sister turned pink and glanced away. "Anna?" Elsa said, now her turn to be worried. "Are you sure everything's okay? With you and Kristoff, I mean?"

Ooh, Elsa was such a good guesser! Anna hesitated a split second, and then forced herself to smile. "Yes! Of course. Elsa, everything is fine," she said, in her most reassuring tone. "It's just that all anyone seems to be able to talk about is the wedding. I mean, I don't want to be sick of it before it even happens!"

Elsa nodded with a smile. "I guess I can understand that." Her face was so proud, so happy for her younger sister, that Anna felt her stomach twist guiltily for lying to her. "We'll talk about anything you want to talk about."

"Okay, um-" She looked around for some sort of topic, and her eyes alighted on the harbor. "Hey, Elsa, you're smart. I've always wanted to know: why doesn't the ocean freeze on top in winter? Is it colder over land or something?

Elsa laughed. "That's what you want to talk about?"

"Yeah! I've never been able to figure it out!"

The two continued to eat their chocolates as the sun set over the sea, Elsa explaining amiably, "Well you see, because the ocean is made of saltwater…"

Dinner that night was a slightly more upbeat matter than the evening before. As the men sat around the cooking fire and ate their stew, someone started the singing again- a rather rowdy drinking song, which was followed by another and then a third. Hans chuckled to himself and pulled off his gloves, eating his stew without comment.

The fourth song drew his attention, however. It seemed to be something about a demon mirror, created by evil, which had shattered when brought to Heaven. For some reason, the song intrigued Hans, and he unconsciously set his spoon in the bowl and frowned pensively as he listened.

At length the song ended, and Kristoff stood up. "Gotta go feed Sven," he said, heading off in the direction of his sleigh and tent. "Back in a bit."

"A'right," Ole agreed. "We'll do the totals when you get back."

As Kristoff left, Hans turned to the other harvester and said, "That song… is there a story behind it?"

"Oh, yes, a very old story," Ole agreed, taking a bite from his stew. "Just like the song says; the Devil made a mirror and tried to take it to Heaven, but it cracked and all the little pieces fell down to Earth. Then the Snow Queen-"

"The Snow Queen?" Hans interrupted, startled. "The song didn't say anything about her."

"Oh no, that's a different part o' the story, you see. Anyhow, the Snow Queen, they say, was a country girl that the Devil tricked into helping him find the pieces. They say she walks the earth still, searching for the lost fragments of the mirror, and causing much suffering as she goes- splitting up lovers, taking children, all sorts of wickedness, to be sure. And," he said to his son Per, who was sitting beside him, "Some say it isn't even a story- that it's all true as you and me!"

Per laughed. "Don't be silly, Papa!" Hans chuckled quietly to himself and ate a spoonful of his stew.

"GYAAAH!"

Every head jerked around at the cry, and Hans dropped his bowl, startled. For a split second, there was dead silence, before another scream came again, full of terror and pain. Hans scrambled to his feet, recognizing the voice. "Kristoff!"

In a flash, everyone was up and running, Hans leading the group. He drew his sword as he ran, mind ahead of his feet as he and the rest rounded the row of tents.

They were met with snaps and snarls, and the whole group was rebuffed by the wolves' flashing white teeth. The pack had converged on the unsuspecting ice harvester while he was feeding his reindeer, the former of which was now lying on the ground, teeth gritted in agony and curled up around himself, one hand over the back of his neck.

"Fire! We need fire!"

"Somebody get a torch!"

While Hans could see Sven kicking valiantly at the wolves, he knew that there was no way the reindeer could last long enough to protect his master until the other harvesters returned with the torches. Two more seconds and the wolves would attack all at once, and tear both man and reindeer apart.

So Hans did something completely illogical and entirely un-thought out: he jumped into the fray.

Wolves were a little like men in some ways: the element of surprise was always an advantage. It took the beasts a moment to realize what had happened, and in that time Hans swung the flat of the blade at the nearest one. He struck the wolf in the head, and the beast stumbled away, stunned. Still more came, and Hans fought like the swordsman he'd been trained into, wielding the hand-in-half expertly as blood spattered and steamed in the snow. Where were the others with the blasted fire, where were–

There! A flash of light flared gold from the side as someone threw a torch into the pack. Hans could've kicked the man who'd thought of that bright idea, but he worked with what he had and expertly caught the torch with his left hand, not wanting the flame to be put out by the snowy ground. Faced now with the dual threat of fire and steel, the wolves backed away, snarling and yipping but too afraid to come forward.

"Go on!" Hans bellowed, brandishing the torch in front of their yellow eyes. The flames seemed to jump even higher as he did so, blazing in a golden arch. "Go! Or I'll run every one of you through!"

As if they'd understood, the wolves turned tail and ran. The prince, panting, leaned against Sven (who was thankfully still standing) and dropped the sword and torch into the snow. He looked down at Kristoff. "You alright?"

The ice harvester grimaced and didn't open his eyes, but managed to let out an agonized, "Been better…"

Quickly, Hans dropped to a knee beside the injured man as the others gathered around. While he was worried at first that Kristoff had been mauled in the gut, it turned out he was curled around his right arm and leg, both of which had been badly bitten and clawed. The blood was slowly seeping through the cloth, and Hans looked up. "Does the camp have a doctor?!" he demanded.

"Right here." A larger man pushed his way through, also kneeling down beside Kristoff. "Get me bandages and boiling water. Hurry!"

Kristoff had managed to open his eyes blearily. "You're crazy, you know that?" he told Hans hoarsely. "You could've been killed!"

"Oh my apologies; next time I'll ask permission before saving your life!" Hans snapped back. The two glared at each other.

And then, the strangest thing happened. Neither knew quite how it began, seeing how Kristoff was still bleeding heavily and everyone knew the two were hardly on friendly terms, but somehow, both started to laugh—that strange, giddy sort of laughter where everything seemed funny because, after all, they weren't dead. When at last their guffaws had subsided, the mountain man repeated, "You're crazy. So…I guess I owe you a thank you for that?"

"I think that's how this usually works," Hans agreed, still grinning with relief.

The doctor had by then finished wrapping Kristoff's injuries. He helped him stand up and said to Hans, "Get 'im back to his tent; no work for 'im t'morrow."

"Sigurd-" Kristoff began, but the doctor cut him off.

"No buts; I want those wounds to heal. Yer lucky I didn't have t'sew you up."

It was clear that Kristoff didn't like this arrangement, but he followed orders and started to hobble off towards his tent. "I can walk by myself," he said in annoyance when Hans attempted to help. Then, he stumbled forward as his bad leg gave out.

The prince caught him by the shoulders and steadied him again. "Of course you can," he replied evenly. "I just want to finish my stew."

Kristoff looked him over with a searching, almost wary manner, before, much to Hans's surprise, he gave him a rare smile. "Yeah. And, uh, for real…thanks."

Hans returned it with a wry smile of his own. "You're welcome."

And, much to the surprise of everyone involved (themselves included), from that moment forward, the two seemed to be friends—or, at the very least, not enemies.

A/N: Luciadagen, or "Santa Lucia Day," is a Christian holiday celebrating the feast of St. Lucy (Dec. 13), common in Nordic countries and areas in the United States with strong Scandinavian influence. Traditionally, the eldest daughter of the household will go to all her family's rooms with sweet saffron buns and coffee, wearing a white dress with a red sash (white for St. Lucy's purity, red for her martyrdom) and a wreath of candles on her head. In my family, my mother always made us Scandinavian flat-pancakes and we had candlelight breakfast before school.

Please review, folks! Pax et bonum!