Chapter Twenty-Seven
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.
"Please, don't kill me, don't kill me–!"
He screamed as an icicle skewered through his shoulder, blood spattering the ice. Icy blue eyes pinned him as he cowered, sobbing, dignity bleeding out with the red stains onto the frozen waves of the fjord. "Please, I'm sorry, don't—PLEASE!"
More electric pain. Somewhere, dimly, he knew he'd done this before, lived through her revenge a dozen times in some distant other-world—but just then it didn't matter, because here and now he knew she was going to kill him. He groveled like he did with his brothers, like any man does who's seen self-possession melt in the face of raw death. Babbling sobs escaped his cold lips: "Please, please, I'll do anything, I'll do anything you want…"
The blue eyes released him, the butterfly-pins retracting, and he stumbled backwards like a ghost as blood spattered down like spring rain. His knees hit ice, dizziness overtaking him, and he stared upwards.
"Oh, Hans." The Queen's voice was as dead as she was. "If only there were someone out there who loved you."
She touched his heart with her bloody fingers, and ice froze through him. He tipped backwards, and fell into water.
The freezing waves crashed in around him, and he surfaced, choking, as cold assaulted his core. He screamed and water filled his lungs, submerging him again. Firelight glittered above as he fought to get back to the air, but his beating limbs were already going numb. Further and further he sank into the darkness, the firelight growing fainter, the silhouette of the lifeboat swallowed by icy blackness…
He hit the bottom of the sea and awoke.
"Hrruhk!"
The noise of air sucking into his lungs shot him upwards as he clutched at his chest, choking. It took several disoriented seconds before he realized he was not, in fact, drowning in the depths of the North Sea. Panting for breath, he ran a shaky hand through his hair and waited for the swell of panicked nausea to pass.
Icy water, and firelight…that must have been from what the Aspiration sank, though he remembered hardly anything of the event. Although…he frowned, trying to recall. Hadn't one of the others dragged him to a lifeboat? Maybe he'd misunderstood, all those years ago; maybe one of the others had dragged him into a lifeboat, after he'd nearly drowned. That would explain the coma I was in afterwards…
The torture motif, although more disturbing, was less difficult to understand; he'd had nigh identical hallucinations of being slaughtered by the dead queen any number of times while in prison. Still, it was unnerving. He hadn't dreamed of vengeful-corpse Elsa in a long while.
At last he had the self-consciousness to look around; thankfully, nobody seemed to have noticed his abrupt awakening, as most of the hall's occupants were asleep. Not far off, on a pallet near the wall, he saw the gentle slopes and curves of the queen's shoulders and waist, the white of her night-dress seeming to glow a faint gold in the dim light of the dying fire. Shame flooded his cheeks with color as he realized he was staring, and he quickly looked away. Seeking comfort from her visage felt inappropriate, all considered. Still, the awareness of her living presence reassured him.
He lay down, staring up at the high wooden ceiling, lost in shadow. On the one hand, he was beyond grateful, for the leniency Elsa had shown him. On the other, he felt like a disgusting wretch; he knew he did not deserve the mercy he was receiving, or the second chance he'd bargained for. Bargained, not pled. Even his freedom was ill-gotten and a product of his manipulation of the Queen's situation. And of course, it meant he was escaping all real consequences for his actions.
All consequences. Well, what was he supposed to do, he argued to himself? He could hardly just let Agnar kill him…
You could stay, a quiet voice whispered. You could stay in Arendelle.
Hans's interior dialogue fell silent. He wanted to lie to himself and come up with a good reason why he couldn't do just that, face whatever justice the Queen and Princess decided to levy on him when the whole business of the fake engagement was over, but…
There's no good excuse. But I don't know if I could bear that. He closed his eyes. He didn't mind the idea of legal punishment per se, but staying in Arendelle…here, he was who he was. Here, history could not be escaped. He would have to live with his mistakes, and he knew that no matter how sincere his change of heart was, it wouldn't blot out the people's memory.
But I could see her…
Yes, he could see her. He could see her live, rule—marry, produce heirs. With a worthy king. She doesn't need me hanging on to pine after her, he thought to himself, rolling onto his side and shifting the blankets as sleep began to creep back in. And I…
Warm firelight washed over his eyelids, and he remembered the way her eyes had looked as she'd scolded him, called him her friend…
I don't…know if I could live with myself, seeing what I've lost…
"Your Majesty! You're needed at the gates!"
It was the morning of December the twenty-first—the coldest and darkest day of the year. Perhaps "morning" was a bit inaccurate; at eight in the A.M., the sun still had not risen, although it was hard to tell either way amidst the swirling opaque matte beyond the windows. Elsa, who had just barely sat down with her meager breakfast of a hot roll and glog, repressed a bone-deep sigh and looked over. The servant stopped short.
"Yes, Kai? What is it?"
"M'lady…" The queen's face seemed an unhealthy ashen gray, and there were rings under her eyes. Even her pale hair seemed lifeless. Elsa saw the expression on his face, set down her plate, and stood.
"Who needs me at the gate?" she repeated firmly, albeit with exhaustion in her tone.
"I…come and see for yourself, m'lady."
There was a commotion gathering quietly at the doors in the entryway down below, and Elsa was bewildered to see a certain ice-master and deliverer at the front of it. "Kristoff," she demanded, approaching the mountain man, "what's going– oh…"
There were people gathered in the entryway. Many people, rather, at least a few dozen, all covered in snow—and reindeer-hide tunics. Elsa blinked owlishly at them, her still-sleepy mind turning the situation surreal. The people peered back at her.
A figure appeared in the hallway at her back, and the man at the front of the group let out a shout: "Sáppá!"
"Dávvet!"
Elsa turned and saw the Sámi man she'd met the night before break free from Kai's leading hand and rush forward. He and the man embraced, laughing in relief, and then broke apart and began to talk animatedly, Sáppá gesturing back in the direction he'd come as his family surrounded him. "What are they saying?" Elsa asked Kristoff. "Where are they from?"
"They're from Sáppa's village, I think." Kristoff turned to a nearby woman and asked her a question; she replied with a nod. "The whole village, actually. The storm's bad up north, Elsa, real bad. It just keeps coming; there's no end to it."
"They came all the way here? In this weather?"
"It wasn't easy."
Elsa turned back to the crowd. Their anxious faces stared at her, searching, she knew, the face of the young Arendellian queen whose next action would set an enduring royal precedent.
"They brought their herd," Kristoff said quietly. "We won't have enough room in the stables, but if you made a roof over the garden…"
"Their herd?" said the queen dizzily.
"It's their livelihood, Elsa."
I'm so tired…
There was a sudden gasp from the crowd, and she looked down as something heavy collided with her knees. It was Sáppa's daughter, grinning up at the queen and saying something the queen didn't understand, and despite her exhaustion Elsa smiled. Perhaps the girl remembered her from the night before. "She, uh, she says not to worry because the pretty ice lady's really nice," Kristoff translated, looking halfway between nervous and amused.
"Well, tell her I think she's pretty, too." The girl beamed at her. Elsa took a deep breath, drew herself up at the spine and looked back to the villagers.
"Kristoff, tell them to bring their livestock to the garden. Kai, have the council meet me in the library."
Kristoff let out a breath Elsa hadn't noticed he'd been holding and translated this for the crowd. Gasps and exclamations of relief rippled through. As the villagers began to organize themselves to bring their reindeer in, the queen caught the ice harvester by the shoulder. "And Kristoff? For the love of all that's good, please," she pushed her bangs out of her eyes, "get me a cup of coffee."
"How many people are there, Sir Bjorgman?"
"Fifty-eight. Nine families, including kids and grandparents."
The council had gathered in the library, crowded around one of the reading tables with Elsa at the long end. Expressions of concern were growing on the faces of her council, and the young queen couldn't think of a way to reassure them.
"Nine families," said Master Folkestad anxiously. "That's going to put a strain on rations."
"Do the stables even have room for that many reindeer?" asked Lady Evjen.
"I've already gotten rid of the snow and put a roof over the garden," Elsa reassured her.
"Where are we going to put all these extra people?" Anna wondered.
"My sentiments exactly," said Lord Finnmork.
"I don't know," Elsa sighed. "But we can't just turn them out in the cold."
"I don't see why not," the lord sniffed. "They're probably used to worse."
Several jaws dropped. "Jakob!" Lady Evjen scolded.
Elsa shot a glance at Kristoff, who was glaring woodenly at the lord, and rose to her feet before the argument could escalate. "We're not turning away helpless families in the face of a natural disaster," she said firmly. "And I cannot speak for certain, Lord Finnmork, but I don't believe they're magically impervious to the cold." She waved a hand, generating a handful of glittering snowflakes, and there were a few nervous chuckles around the table. "We'll find a way to make more room and revisit the ration schedule. It's only sixty extra people; we already have several hundred in the castle already."
"Sixty extra mouths to feed," he grumbled.
"Yes, and some of them children, Lord Finnmork. Kristoff, Hans, if you could start moving them into the hall–"
"Of course, your Majesty."
"Thank you. Lady Evjen, Master Folkestad, go down to the kitchens and see what can be done about the rationing. Anna–" Elsa sighed, "Just try to keep everybody calm."
Anna saluted. "You got it, sis."
The queen spared a half-smile. "Alright then. Meeting adjourned."
The other councilmembers filed out. As the others left, Elsa felt a hand take her by the elbow, and she looked over.
It was Kristoff. He still looked angry, but somewhat mollified. "Thank you," he muttered. "If I'd said what I…"
"It's no trouble." She hesitated. "Kristoff…did these people come from north of Arendelle?"
He glanced to the door. "Uh…technically, Elsa, I'm pretty sure they spend some of the winter in the Northern Province."
"Which means they'd technically be Lord Finnmork's subjects." Kristoff didn't answer. "I think it might be best if he continues thinking of them as…foreigners."
"I think you're probably right."
"Why doesn't he know these people are in his territory?" Kristoff shuffled his feet. "Kristoff?"
The mountain man sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Listen, Elsa…your dad did right by us, getting rid of the old laws, but those kind of consequences, ehm, they don't change overnight. Some of these people were alive back when we weren't allowed to own land. And, well…they still don't." He flushed and added hastily: "Listen, it's all tundra up there, nothing grows well enough to sell; it's not like anyone's using it–"
Elsa held up a hand. "I'm not here to interrogate the ways of innocent people seeking emergency shelter, Kristoff. I just wanted to know what I…might want to forget, around Lord Finnmork."
"Right," he said, relieved. "Thanks, Elsa."
"Don't mention it. Literally, do not."
He snorted and was about to leave, when he stopped and looked back. "Hey, uh, listen…" Elsa, who had begun to rifle through paperwork, looked up. "Can I…ask you something? Privately, I mean."
"Of course, Kristoff; we're practically family."
He nodded, biting his tongue, and Elsa tilted her head. "…Does it…did it bother you, I mean, when you learned—I know you gave us your blessing, but did you…"
"It's never bothered me that you're half-Sámi, Kristoff. And I knew from the moment I met you."
"You did?"
"Certainly. You clothing had several specific elements and—well, Kristoff, most ice harvesters don't use reindeer."
"But—if you knew, why–?"
"Because you made Anna happy." Her eyes twinkled. "And because you're a good person and a smart businessman, and I knew you'd be able to overcome the difficulties of being in the Arendellian aristocracy if it meant being with her. And frankly, Kristoff, because it didn't matter."
Kristoff's eyes had found the grain of the table. "…You put a lot of faith in me, Elsa."
"Not unduly, as you've proven." His eyes shot upwards. "You've helped me a lot with this crisis. I owe you my thanks for that."
"I—yeah, sure. No problem." The Queen gave him a smile and was about to return to her work when he said: "Elsa? I mean that. If you or– or Anna, ever need anything, you can count on me. No matter what."
The queen's smile grew confused. "I know."
Kristoff hesitated, nodded awkwardly, and left.
The wind roaring overhead echoed eerily through the glassy ice roof the queen had constructed over the garden, and his breath frosted in the air as Kristoff made his way over to where the reindeer herders were pitching forkfuls of hay for their livestock. The man Kristoff had met the night before, Sáppa, noticed him and waved him over.
"Sir Bjorgman! There's some people I'd like you to meet." He gestured to the other herdsmen around him. "This is Dávvet, he's my brother-in-law…you've met my wife, Mártá…"
"Morning, ma'am." Mártá gave him a grateful smile.
"This is Soljá…"
"So you're the guy who's marrying the princess," said the young herdswoman, leaning against her reindeer with crossed arms and a quirked eyebrow. "How'd you manage that one?"
"Uh—just good luck, I guess…"
"And this is Risten and Joná." A middle-aged couple nodded at him. "Headwoman and headman of our village. They speak some Arendellian."
"It's an honor." They shook his hand. "So," said the iceman, grabbing a fork and helping with the hay, "You come from the northern march, right? Did you see anyone else on your way south, any other moving villages?"
"Nobody. But then, we couldn't see five feet in front of our sleds," replied Dávvet. "We should have left earlier. It wasn't until the storm hit that we realized Sáppa had been right; wind and snow shouldn't move that way."
"We're worried," added Sáppa with a sigh. "Many of us have friends or family in other villages; Soljá here's fiancé is from a permanent town on the coast."
"Why didn't you go there?"
"What would be the point?" said Risten frankly. "The Sámi villages of the northern march are bad off as it is; we couldn't burden them with us."
"We knew it was a risk coming to Arendelle proper, but we weren't sure if anywhere else would have the resources to take us and would also possibly be friendly to us."
There were shared looks here, and Kristoff understood. There were other wealthy towns in the Northern Province, but whether they'd be willing to share their good fortune was tenuous at best.
"So where's your family from?" Soljá asked.
"Honestly? I have no idea." Kristoff shrugged. "My ma grew up with some highwaymen her mother took up with to make ends meet; she told me once she remembered living in the mountains when she was really young, but I wasn't able to ask her more than that. She died when I was a kid."
"I'm sorry to hear that," said Mártá kindly. "What about your father?"
"Arendellian, from right here in the city. Ice harvester, like me. He was a good man; he died around the same time she did. After that one of the forest families took me in."
"So how'd you end up marrying a princess?" asked Soljá again, and Kristoff briefly related the tale of the Great Freeze. "So that guy with the red hair–"
"Yeah. But he's doing his best to turn his life around."
"What did the queen's people think about a half-Sámi man courting the princess?" asked Dávvet. "I can't imagine Finnmork was pleased, at least."
"They, uh, they actually didn't know, for a while." He gave an uncomfortable laugh. "I mean, Anna already knew, but when we got engaged, the Queen's council decided to check out my background and…"
"You didn't tell them?"
His face suddenly burned hot. "I– well, not reall– I just didn't–" They were all staring at him, and his excuses fade into silence.
"You're ashamed of it?" Sáppa asked. The ice harvester opened his mouth and then shut it again, rubbing the back of his neck. The others shared knowing looks. Sáppa walked forward and clapped the younger man on the shoulder, causing Kristoff to look up in surprise. "Let's take a walk, son."
He led him through the garden and into the castle. As soon as they were back inside, the iceman found his voice again. "I had to hide it, alright?" he argued, visibly uncomfortable. "I mean, you try surviving around here–"
"We understand, Mr. Bjorgman. Every man's got to eat."
"I shouldn't have hidden it. But—look, I had a business, I was trying to—I don't know, be a 'contributing member of society,' or whatever…"
"And Arendelle has never been friendly to us…" Kristoff nodded, shame-faced. Sáppa paused, carefully considering his next question, and then repeated: "Are you ashamed of it?"
The ice harvester, again, did not answer. Which, of course, was answer enough. Sáppa nodded.
"You know, what they say about us isn't true." He stopped Kristoff by the shoulder and turned the man to face him. "We're not beggars," he said firmly, "and we're not mentally inferior."
"I-I know that–"
"Do you? I've watched the way you act around the ádel." It took Kristoff a moment to translate this to "nobility." "You bite your tongue. You act like you expect them to know better than you."
"They're nobles, I'm just an ice harvester–"
"And you're embarrassed to speak with us in front of them," Sáppa said knowingly. Kristoff's eyes had dropped, like a scolded child. "Tell me, was your mother a stupid woman?"
"You kidding? She basically ran my dad's ice business; she was–" He saw the smile Sáppa was giving him. "Okay, yeah, I get the point…"
"Get it out of your head that you're too stupid to be here," the man said frankly. "The Queen trusts you. The Princess wants to marry you." Kristoff opened his mouth instinctively to correct him, but Sáppa continued, "You have the ear of the royal house of Arendelle."
"Only because Anna fell in love with me…"
"And I suppose the Queen's infatuated with you, too?" Kristoff didn't have a reply to that, and Sáppa nodded. "Royal Ice Master and Deliverer, you told me—and that before you were betrothed to the Princess. You speak for the working people. For the first time, a Sámi man sits on the royal council of Arendelle. That is not a privilege—or a responsibility—I would take lightly."
Kristoff thought back to the great hall. He could see, in his mind's eye, Sáppa's family and neighbors, peering uncertainly at the Arendellians around them. "…I won't."
"Good man." Sáppa patted his shoulder. "I have an offer I would like to make you. Do you have a gákti?"
"I—no, not since I was a kid…"
Sáppa nodded. "Square buttons, for a married man." He plucked at his own. "I understand if you don't feel comfortable with it, but any of us would be proud to loan you one for the wedding."
"…I'll think about it," Kristoff agreed.
The proud look in the man's eyes was almost too much for the iceman to stand.
"There you are!"
Hans jumped and smacked his head on a hanging cut of salted pork. "Gah! Anna…!" He turned with a scowl, rubbing the growing lump. "Give me a little warning, please!"
"I've been looking all over for you. What are you doing down here?"
"Double-checking Master Folkestad's rations count," the prince grumbled. "I thought you were supposed to be upstairs, soothing tempers?"
"Oh, I was." She flounced angrily into the spacious pantry and leaned against the shelves. The underground room was warm and dark, unlike the rest of the castle, which seemed to be getting draftier by the minute. "Someone's been starting some nasty rumors about us all starving to death in the next few days because of the newcomers, and I'll give you three guesses as to who."
"Lord Finnmork?"
"Good guess, but no."
Hans thought. Then his face fell. "Ah. My brothers."
"Got it in two." She huffed angrily. "What's their problem? We don't need more stress in this castle; people are scared enough as it is!"
"They're probably enjoying making life a little less pleasant for me." He picked up a jar and frowned at it, trying to read the label in the dim light. "More to the point, the less trust Arendellians have for their rulers right now, the better it will be for the Isles when Arendelle goes to war."
Anna gawped. "They're making everyone afraid so that our people trust Elsa less?"
"Don't look so surprised."
"But—that's awful! Who would do that?!"
He gave her a look. "Anna, if you haven't learned it by now, you really need to realize that people can be absurdly, comically evil."
"Well you don't have to be so smug about it," she huffed.
"I locked you in a study, what better lesson do you want?"
She gave him an evil look. Hans sighed and set the jar down, dusting off his hands.
"Look. My brothers, my family, are bad people. Until recently, I was the soft one."
"And then you jumped the line to 'crazy one.'"
"That would be amusing if it weren't spot-on." He saw her expression and softened. "Don't take it personally. My family are greedy power-hungry sociopaths, we pretty much always have been. It's not that they dislike you or your sister personally, they just want to set themselves up for success—or their version of success, at any rate."
"Thanks," she grumbled. "But how can they be so– so–"
"Unreflective about it?"
"Well—yeah."
Hans shrugged. "In their minds, they're 'realists.' They 'see the world for what it is' and aren't 'blinded by sentimentalism.' They're just playing the game of survival of the fittest and it's not their fault if you're not fittest."
"And you don't believe that anymore?" she said, still a bit warily despite everything. He shook his head, writing down another total in his tally-book. "Why not?"
"I saw true love thaw your heart and end a kingdom-wide curse. 'Sentimentalism' won, which wasn't supposed to happen. Call it a philosophical reckoning." He paused. "That, and…I remembered what it was like, to be loved by someone. I didn't want to let that person down."
Anna watched him, curious about that, but didn't push it further. "You know…you say you regret it."
"I do. Believe me, I do."
"But you never did apologize to me."
He paused, and then said softly, "Anna…believe me, I am sorry. I wanted to apologize the moment I saw you."
"So why didn't you?"
"Because an apology is usually a request for forgiveness. I was not about to insult you after what I'd done by pretending an apology was suitable recompense. And I…wasn't going to put the moral burden on you of feeling like you had to forgive me."
"Willum did that anyway," she pointed out.
The prince half-chuckled. "It's a holy man's privilege to correct victims and saints. Anyway…I knew what you wanted was to see that I knew what I'd done was wrong. That I wasn't just…getting away with it."
"I mean…you are, though."
He fell silent again for a moment. "…I'm not proud of that. But I don't have another choice." He returned counting jars. "I can't just let Agnar kill me."
"Some people would say you deserve it. I don't," she added hurriedly, "but, y'know, some people." Like me a year ago…
"To be executed, maybe. But I don't owe it to you or anyone else to be murdered. Believe me when I say, from experience, that those are two very different things."
"And you're really gonna leave without telling Elsa? What we talked about last night, I mean."
"Not if she asked me at icicle-point," he sighed. "And thank you, for keeping my secret."
"Well, what are ex-fiancées for?" She watched him write down a final tally, sigh again, and jut his chin in a frustrated way. "So. Are we gonna starve?"
"Lady Evjen and Master Folkestad's estimations were correct. So, no, we won't starve yet. But everyone's going to be getting less stew than they'd like."
Anna's face turned grim. "Some of them aren't going to like that. They'll say Elsa's feeding foreigners instead of her own subjects."
"Sir Bjorgman tells me they are her subjects."
"Oh, sure." She gave him a wry smile. "But they don't look like us, so they can't be real Arendellians, right?"
Hans blinked. Then he set down the tally-book on a shelf. "You know?"
"I've seen the way they treat Kristoff. Of course I know." At his continued look of surprise, she stuck her chin out. "I'm not as naïve as when you first met me, you know."
Her words so closely echoed his just a few days prior that he couldn't help but half-smile. "Yes, I'm aware." He hesitated, wondering if he should reveal what Kristoff had told him in confidence. "Listen, Anna…"
But at just that moment, the pantry door opened again as Kai stuck his head in. "Prince Hans? Gerda needs your help in arranging the soup line."
"I'll be right there." He glanced back. "Anna—you should talk to Kristoff."
"Right," she said gloomily.
"I mean it. Talk to him." He gave her a nod and left.
Left alone in the pantry, exhaustion took over the young princess; she sank into a forgotten stool in the corner and seriously considered just staying there. Elsa was terrible at hiding her depression and anxiety; it spilled out of her expression, her posture—quite literally, into the atmosphere. Anna was different. Years of maintaining her own little flame of hope and keeping a positive outlook had allowed her to paste on a convincing veneer of good cheer whenever she needed it. But that didn't mean it wasn't there.
Anna was not a queen. Anna was a princess. She kissed babies. She cut ribbons at the openings of hospitals and orphanages. Elsa was a ruler, the rudder on the ship; Anna was a star, the bright pinprick of light people looked to when they needed to know they were heading the right way.
And it was an exhausting responsibility.
After the Great Thaw, the realities of public life had flooded in, and for the first time the young princess got a taste of what Elsa had been put through for all those years. Sorrow, anger, pique and fatigue were private emotions, not public ones, at least not for so public a figure as a princess. It wasn't fair, but it was a royal's life; self-assurance in their leaders gave the people subconscious permission to keep calm themselves, and while Anna wasn't a queen, she was, nonetheless, a royal. When her people needed her, she stepped up to the plate (even if she broke a few along the way). And so, despite the agonizing pain of being parted from the man who she knew, despite everything, was the love of her life, right now, her people needed their princess.
So their princess, and not the broken-hearted twice-jilted-fiancée, was what they were going to get.
She gave herself another two minutes of depressed wilting into the stool before standing up, dusting off her dress and straightening her corset. She attempted a brave smile. It felt so natural on her face that Anna herself was almost convinced.
The halls upstairs were filled with people, at least until she got to the floor where the library was. There the hall was empty, but only, she could tell, because the library was full. The angry rumble of an upset populace echoed through the corridor and between her ears like noise from the bottom of a well. Anna pushed open the door and peered inside.
Elsa stood behind her desk, wringing her hands nervously and trying to talk sense to the assembled villagers and nobility. Anna could tell right away that it wasn't working. Half the crowd was plagued with varying expressions of anxiety or nervousness; another quarter was up in arms at the queen's decision. The rest were up in arms at them. The debate was growing louder by the minute:
"We can't afford to help other people when we're starving ourselves!"
"What's the matter with all of you? I say we stop being so selfish!"
"And I say we don't owe them anything!"
"Will we have enough to eat? What will we do if the food runs out?"
"Everyone, please," Elsa pleaded, "we have enough food, we'll just need to ration more carefully–"
"This storm could last longer than a week!" someone shouted from the back. "What if it doesn't go away?!"
"We have to take care of ourselves first!"
"How can you be so heartless? They have children!"
Frost was beginning to creep up Elsa's dress. The princess drew a deep breath, straightened her back, and summoned every remaining ounce of hope she possessed.
"Excuse me, please!"
Everyone turned. The door was open fully now, and Anna gave them a bright smile. "I've just gotten back from the pantry," she chirruped as she swept through the library, beaming at her sister while the crowds parted like water. "We'll be just fine, Elsa." The queen let out a sigh of relief as Anna stopped in front of the desk, her skirts swishing. "Prince Hans assures me," she told the townspeople, "that we'll be able to stay on schedule with food, even with the new arrivals."
"But Princess–!"
"Now, I know some of you are worried." She clasped her hands. "But come on, everybody! This is Arendelle. We've survived way worse than this storm!" There were murmurs through the crowd. "Whenever we've gone through hard times, we've always gotten through by relying on each other, and working together. When my father led us through the war, brave Arendellians volunteered to fight, or worked here at home to support the war effort. When the Great Freeze hit, you relied on each other—your neighbors!—to get through it, together." There were proud expressions in the crowd now, as people straightened their backs and lifted their chins. "Our unity," Anna continued, "and our generosity are our greatest strengths. These people are our neighbors, and they need our help. And I believe," she said firmly, looking to each face in the crowd, "that Arendelle is the kind of place where neighbors help each other and look out for one another. And I believe it because you all have always proven to me that it's true. So don't let me down now, okay?"
The anxious had been reassured; the naysayers, shamed. The generous were nodding in fierce approval. The crowd had simmered down from a potential mob to a functioning town populace again, and Elsa could not have looked more relieved. "Alright then," she agreed, settling the matter by asserting its having been settled. "Lunch should be served soon; I'm sure we'll all feel better on a full stomach."
The prospect of a hot meal cheered everyone immensely, and the crowd headed for the library doors. "Anna," Elsa murmured under her breath.
"Hmm?"
"That speech—you know as well as I do that Arendelle hasn't always been the hero and the friendly neighbor you implied."
Anna turned to look at her, her green eyes solemn. "When times are hard, people need something to believe in, Elsa." She looked back to the exiting crowd. "I'd rather they believe in their ability to be kind."
The queen tried, and failed, to hide her surprise. Well, look at that. My little sister's becoming a real politician. Anna smiled gently and nodded to the door. "Go. Eat."
"What about you?"
"I'll be out in a minute."
Elsa searched her face. "Is everything okay?"
For one moment, the princess wavered. She wanted to talk to her sister so badly, to just unload all of the stress and pain and grief she was feeling. She missed Kristoff. She missed the idea of a life with him. She missed the family she'd never even had.
But then she pulled herself together, and her smile turned cheerful again. "I'm fine. Just really tired. After all those years alone, it feels like the whole world decided to stuff itself in this castle!"
Elsa sighed. "Don't I know it." She patted her sister's shoulder. "Don't wait too long or all the soup will be gone." Anna reassured her she wouldn't, and the queen swept gracefully out of the library and closed the door behind her.
Anna sat down on the sofa next to the piano. Then she lay down. Then she curled up into a ball, and cried. As she sobbed silently into her arms, one thought stuck out: so that's how it feels, to shut people out.
Lunch had been served; the Sámi villagers had been settled in the great hall, and tempers had, for the most part, been cooled. Elsa was back to sitting on her throne, handling complaints and giving orders to the servants. When at last there was a break in the crowd, she leaned her head against the wooden back of the throne and rested her eyes.
"Elsa? Queen Elsa."
A gentle hand was shaking her shoulder, and she jerked awake. Hans withdrew his hand, looking concerned. "Are you alright?"
"Fine…" She looked around. Not much seemed to have changed. "How long was I asleep?"
"Only a minute or two. I don't think many people noticed."
"Oh, dear…" Her face was turning red.
"You need to rest," the prince advised.
"I'm alright–"
"Are you?" There was a pause, and then the queen sighed.
"Just…for a few hours."
He smirked. "That's what I thought."
She stood and stretched. "Come with me."
The prince raised an eyebrow. "Darling, we're not yet married."
Elsa scowled and smacked his shoulder, "That's not what I meant." Hans chuckled and followed her. "People will come looking for me," she yawned, "so if maybe you could…" She sat down on her pallet, "stay here…and take questions?"
"Ah– Elsa, are you su–"
"You said you already felt like their king." She let out a sleepy sigh and lay down. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do. And wake me up at three…"
Hans waited, but there was nothing else. The Queen was asleep.
You said you already felt like their king.…He looked around the hall, at the townspeople, at the refugee families, at the nobles and the servants. Safe, warm, and fed, under his guiding hand.
And to his worry, he felt the stirring of temptation.
"Prince Hans?"
He turned. It was one of the serving maids.
"We're running low on firewood, sir. What does the queen want us to do…?"
I was as good at it as I'd always known I could be.
"The Queen is taking a rest," said the prince smoothly. "As for the firewood…" He thought. "Prioritize the great hall; if we need to, we can move more people into here." Though it's crowded already. "Have Madame Gerda organize a small team to determine which furniture is least necessary and have it dismantled."
"Yes, your Highness."
The maid left. Hans looked to the throne, and then back to the sleeping queen. After a brief hesitation, he sat down, cross-legged, on the floor beside her to wait.
A/N: So I wrote this chapter to fill in some holes from the original story. I hope you enjoyed it; please review and tell me what you thought.
The fictional history of oppression represented here is a reference to the process of "Norwegianization" which occurred in our own world, one result of which was that Sámi people were not allowed to own or purchase land. Sámi children were also taken from their parents to be educated in far-away boarding schools, and were not allowed to attend school in their own language. Such practices were justified late into the twentieth century by claiming that the people of Sápmi were mentally handicapped or intellectually inferior. Wikipedia has an article on the history of Norwegianization if you would like to learn more.
I tried to write this chapter as sensitively as possible with regards to the racism (and internalized racism) a man like Kristoff would be dealing with at this point in history, but I'm not sure if I succeeded. If there was something I missed, I'd appreciate being told politely in a private message.
Pax et bonum!