Chapter Forty-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.
Nothing happened immediately as the Snow Queen withdrew her hand from the Mirror, and for the briefest of moments, every soul present—yes, even that of the sorceress, her thousand-years' task now complete—wondered whether indeed anything would happen.
Then, with a sound like ice freezing over, a ripple began from the center of the shard that had just been replaced, spilling out over the entire mirror, the shards melding together in a glittering crystalline kaleidoscope of cerulean and scarlet as the shattered pane of glass became whole again. The Snow Queen's pale face split into a manic grin, and her reflection in the mirror began to shift, changing from that of a sorceress to hundreds of hideous demons, the visages of countless corrupted men and women, portraits of every form of cruelty and hatred imaginable. Tendrils of blue and scarlet sorcery began to stretch out from the mirror as the glass began to glow, flaming, freezing, the magic swirling around the sorceress, piercing straight through her heart.
What would have killed an ordinary mortal only strengthened the Snow Queen. From where the magic had struck her, there began to grow an icy blue shell, covering her torso, her arms and legs, spreading all the way to those bloodless fingers. Hans stumbled back, eyes wide. Elsa struggled against the chains, fighting to break free, as the sorceress grew in stature and strength until her height was practically superhuman. The crystalline substance crept up the her figure, encasing her from head to toe and turning her into a many-faceted, flawless sculpture of ice. The Snow Queen laughed, exhilarated by the power, and closed her eyes as the ice froze over her whole face and hair.
And when she opened them again, her eyes were gone, leaving behind nothing but two holes from which glowed a fiery scarlet, like windows to the inside of a furnace. Anna clapped a hand over her mouth to stop her scream, and Kristoff pushed her instinctively behind him, stepping between her and the glass wall.
The Snow Queen smiled cruelly as she tested her now-icy hands, flexing them experimentally. "At last," she said, in a tremulous and terrible voice as she raised her face. "Hear me, o my master: our contract is complete. Let war, famine and death follow; your loyal servant pays her due!" And with a decisive, dramatic gesture, she flung her icy hands to the sky.
The roof of the palace's cupola, which hitherto had been formed of solid panes of bluish, glassy ice, suddenly fractured as though it had been struck with a hammer. The fractures spread further and further, until suddenly, the whole ceiling caved in, raining down in millions of tiny shards. Elsa shielded herself as best a she was able with her bound hands; the pieces clattered off the Snow Queen's icy exterior without leaving so much as a mark, and she cackled as she snapped her fingers.
Across the glittering stars above, a wild and furious storm erupted, worse than the previous two before it. It met the ongoing storm below, intensifying it to a state of utter madness. Just above the cloud-layer, two snowmen and one fire-being looked up, startled, as the clouds covered the sky, and then Ovn shuddered horribly, flickering in the fierce winds. Olaf hurried to shelter her from the wind as best he could with his lumpy snow-form, and all three shrunk down with fear as the great storm swept south down the mountain, dispersing in all directions.
In a European country marked by its richness of tradition, a tall, thin man paused in his dance with a rather flirtatious maid and murmured, "Sacrebleu! Your Highnesses, look!" The gold-dressed royals themselves ceased to dance and the whole of the Christmas reveillon ball crowded around the large glass windows, as the once softly-shining winter moon was covered in dark and ominous clouds.
In desert nation many leagues to the south, where snow was rarely ever seen and Christmas celebrated by only a few, a young, turbaned sultan and his sultana looked to the diamond-strewn sky in confusion as one light snowflake after another tumbled down to earth, and a cold wind began to blow.
And in a happy kingdom much nearer to home, another prince and princess sat before a merrily crackling fire in their private chambers, enjoying a hot cocoa and a candy-cane apiece as they spoke of the future. The thief-turned-prince watched his wife with genuine devotion and happiness in his eyes as she looked down dreamily at her growing belly, the most wonderful gift of all contained within on this, their first Christmas as a family, with the promise of so many more to come—and then, the sudden sound of creaking windowpanes drew their attention, and both looked to the balcony doors in startled confusion as outside, snow began to dart fiercely through the previously clear air.
In the ice palace of that great northern kingdom, the young queen shook off the ice crystals from her cloak and peered skywards. Clouds raced overhead like raging ocean waves. "Arendelle," Elsa whispered.
The Snow Queen laughed down at her. "Did you really believe you could stop me? I made you, Queen Elsa." She raised a hand, blue light snapping around her icy fingers. "And now I will end you." The young woman cringed, expecting to be frozen solid—but a sudden noise drew their attentions.
Still pinned to the wall, Prince Hans was weakly attempting to free himself from the icicle which had punctured his right shoulder. "Isn't it obvious you're too late?" said the Snow Queen, amused. "Soon the whole world will be encased in endless winter." She smiled wolfishly. "You should have chosen my help."
"Yes," Hans groaned. "But…you've forgotten…one important thing…"
"Oh?" the Snow Queen sneered. "And what's that?"
And the prince's green eyes shot up, and he smirked.
"I'm left-handed."
And he drew his sword and smashed the hilt down on the icicle pinning his shoulder.
Within the castle far below, the many townsfolk and nobles alike shivered in fear as they looked to the ever-growing storm beyond the thick walls and windows of their ancient stronghold. All the villagers had been gathered together at the stable doors, filling the hallway beyond. Everyone was talking, voices panicked, children crying. "Everyone, please, listen!" Kai called, standing before the assembly. They quickly quieted. "The plan the council has outlined remains the same," he informed them, speaking with urgency. "You are to go out the stables door and across the frozen fjord to the forest; skirt around the bay back inside the town and load up your sleds as quickly and as quietly as you can, then head south as a group."
He paused a breath to peer at them. His fellow townspeople, lords and ladies, the villagers and foreign dignitaries looked back at him, fear and uncertainty etched in every face. Kai knew how they felt: in a single short week their home had gone from a stable haven to thoroughly unlivable, and they were not prepared. The whole town was about to become refugees in the dead of winter, and he knew in his bones it was unlikely they'd all survive the journey.
He resumed his speech. "The southern king believes that everyone is inside this castle; Willum will hold him off as long as he's able, and the castle will block you from view, but you'll need to move quickly. When you reach-"
"Kai, look!" Gerda interrupted in a hushed voice, pointing to the window in the doorway. He glanced outside. The storm had grown fiercer by tenfold, the snow flying and the sky dark as pitch. His expression turned grim.
"The storm has worsened. Does everyone have a lantern?" The townspeople all glanced around, murmuring amongst themselves, and then indicated their assent. "Good. Who here already has a sled?"
"We do," a voice called, and he turned to see the Sámi headwoman and her husband sitting atop their loaded sleigh. Two bright lanterns hung from the front, and Kai nodded.
"Alright. Everyone follow them across the fjord; stick together, and by Heaven, hurry! You may not have much time."
He unlocked the bolt and stepped to the side. As the villagers began to pour out of the open gateway into the bitter night, he pushed his way through the crowd, headed for the back.
Suddenly, a hand reached out and caught his arm. The manservant turned, startled, to see his wife frowning at him with obvious concern. "Where are you going?" she demanded.
"Someone has to stay behind to bar the doors," Kai explained grimly. "I'll be out as soon as I can, Gerda; go on!"
"I certainly will not!" she replied, affronted. "I'm staying here to help you."
"Gerda, for goodness sake-!"
"No, Kai," she rounded on him fiercely, jabbing a finger in his chest. "I am not leaving this castle without you! I swore to stay by you in good times and bad ones, no matter the price, and I mean it now as much as I meant it then!" He stared at her, stunned, and her expression softened. "I lost you once, Kai," Gerda said gently. "I won't lose you again."
The unfailing certainty in her voice recalled to his mind that moment, those many years ago, when she had found him sitting so stiff and cold in the Snow Queen's palace, and her tears had warmed his frozen heart. Then, as now, Gerda had stood steadfastly beside him in the darkest hours of his life, his companion in all things, from playfellows at their flowerboxes to man and wife. No, they would not be separated now. He took her hands in his, gave a short nod, and said, "We must hurry. Douse every fire in the building; we mustn't give the king anything more to work with. Bolt every door on the way; I'm going to close the gates."
She returned this with a nod, loyal and determined, and together the pair hurried away, dousing the lamps and locking the doors behind them.
The bishop stepped sideways, feeling the heat from the jet of flames as they roared past, stopping just short of the wooden gates. He swallowed hard, the blood singing in his ears. He was certain he was to die very shortly, but the longer he could survive, the more time the villagers would have to escape.
The king seemed to be thinking along the same lines. "You pious old fool," he spat with fury. "Do you honestly believe you can stop me? Your death will mean nothing! When I'm finished with you, I will raze this palace to the ground!"
Willum's eyes flashed at that, and he stepped forward decisively, swinging his crosier along the bridge cobblestone. The hooked end, acting in remarkable similarity to a shepherd's crook, caught the king around the ankle and swept him off his feet. Agnar hit the ground with a bellow of startled pain. The bishop drove the end of the crosier downward, hoping to knock him unconscious with the butt of the staff, but the king rolled out of the way just in time and got to his feet before Willum could strike him again, evidence of years of martial training.
"Is this what it comes to, your Majesty?" the bishop demanded. "Do you think you can outwit treason himself? The fruits of this endeavor are all poisoned, each and every one. The very reward of such acts will be your own destruction!"
"The only destruction today will be yours, and that of anyone else who stands in my way!" He was about to let loose another barrage of attacks on the bishop, when suddenly, the fierce winter winds struck both men with a gust far more forceful than before, nearly knocking them over. Both momentarily ceased their attacks to regain their balance, looking to the bitter sky with astonishment.
Agnar recovered first from the shock, for moment the fierceness of the storm had increased, so too did the ferocity of the flames that raged about the southern king. "I've had enough of this," he snarled, lifting his hands, silhouetted by the torrent of fire at his back. "So you love your maker so dearly, old man? Then prepare to meet him!"
A great onslaught of scarlet flames burst forth, too vast and rapid to be avoided. Willum flinched and turned away, expecting a burning pain and then the quiet peace that would mean he was on his way to his good reward. Instead, he felt an intense heat against his old, weathered hands and the side of his face- intense, but not, he noticed, unbearable. When he looked forward again, surprised, he saw that the fire had been split in two by his crosier, just barely avoiding him on either side—an impossible coincidence. Someone is protecting me.
Agnar stared for a moment, and then his eyes narrowed. "How did you-"
"You have your guardians, I have mine." His hand gripped the crosier tightly. "Listen to me, my foolish son! You cannot make an honest deal with the prince of lies; you can't bargain with evil! Stop this insanity and admit your faults, before they consume you. There's still time."
"You're wrong, old man: you're out of time." Agnar hissed, and the bishop was forced to lift his crosier in defense as another wave of hellfire rushed in.
The cerulean blast of magic reflected off the sword and struck the wall just behind the Snow Queen. Hans gritted his teeth against the jarring pain in his wrist. He wasn't used to fighting with his dominant hand, and his right arm hurt like hellfire, but he knew that if she managed to disarm him as Elsa had in the chapel he wouldn't last another minute.
The Snow Queen cackled as he parried another blow. "You can't dance forever, young prince!" she crowed. She laughed again as the prince was forced to roll out of the way to avoid another discharge of sorcery.
Elsa, meanwhile, was herself somewhat preoccupied with trying to undo the chains that still bound her wrists and ankles. Try as she might, the icy links were too strong to break loose. This was, naturally, slightly problematic, as her current state made it impossible to move out of the way whenever Hans and the Snow Queen's battling got too close.
"Elsa, get out of here!" Hans shouted, deflecting another icy curse in front of her.
"It's not as if I'm not making an effort!" the queen snapped back, trying to pull her wrists out from between the links. In a split second, the prince whirled around and brought down the sword with all the force he could muster on the chains about her ankles. They exploded into a shower of ice chips.
"Thank y—look out!" Elsa shouted. He turned and just managed to duck in time for the sudden barrage of icicles not to impale him through the neck. The deadly projectiles struck the wall of the cupola behind them and shattered.
"Elsa, run!" he urged her, standing as a human shield between her and the sorceress as she scrambled to her feet.
"I'm not leaving without you!"
"Yes you are!" he shouted, blocking another wave of magic. "You're a queen, Elsa, you have a duty to your people! Now go!"
She bit her lip, and then nodded and turned, rushing to the doorway. She hurriedly picked up an icicle and began to chip away at the wall of ice blocking the exit. Kristoff had already begun to hack away at it from the other side with his icepick. Hans knew all too well that they'd never have enough time to break through without a distraction, so he decided to do something that many would have called brave, and many more would have called reckless. Perhaps both would have been correct, for what Prince Hans did was this: he laid aside any thoughts to his personal safety and, with every ounce of determination he had, charged the sorceress.
In that moment, the years of naval training paid themselves off in full. Hans jumped over a sudden growth of razor-sharp icicles, rolled forward to avoid another blast of ice-magic, and landed on his feet, still running at full speed. He let the momentum carry him forward as he swung the sword with all his might at her neck, hoping to land the blow.
And, miraculously, he did. Unfortunately, the blow did no good; his sword shattered on impact, and Hans paled. The sorceress smiled.
Quick as lightning, her frozen hand shot out and clutched him by the neck, lifting the prince into the air. "Behold the traitor's final judgment!" she spat, closing her fist's grip tighter and tighter as he gasped for air. Hans saw his vision began to spot gray and black from the inside out. He kicked his legs uselessly, try to break free from the crushing grasp, his heart pounding in his ears, the voices of the others screaming in the distance—
—And then…and then, quite by accident, he noticed something strange. Beyond the Snow Queen's icy face and furnace-like eyes, he saw something entirely inexplicable in the reflection of the mirror. Where there should have been the image of the sorceress's crystalline form, lifting the struggling prince into the air, he saw instead the figure of a young woman, dressed in the simple clothes of the ancient peasants, barefoot and with curling hair flowing in blonde tresses down her back.
"Wait," the prince gasped, and the Snow Queen's icy lips smiled.
"That's it," she hissed. "Beg. Beg me for mercy."
"No- look-"
He managed to remove one hand from its rather essential job at trying to pry the sorceress's fist apart, and pointed to the mirror. The Snow Queen glanced back, and her grip slackened enough to let him breathe as she looked at the image in shock. The fresh-faced beauty looked back at them, her expression similarly surprised.
"Th-that's you, isn't it?" Hans choked out. "Before you became this." The trio behind them stared, too stunned to move. "You– you were betrayed, weren't you? By a man who said he loved you. A man very much like myself." He spoke directly to the reflection, to the girl in the mirror. "I'm sorry. What he did to you was selfish and cruel. He broke your heart. He froze it solid. And I'm very sorry for that."
His green eyes were full of sincerity as he continued. "But frozen hearts can be thawed again." He glanced back to where Elsa stood at the frozen doorway, and then again to the mirror. "I-I know it's not easy to forgive, whether it be others or ourselves. And I know you must think you've done too much, that you've come too far to stop now. But you still have a choice, because beneath it all…you're still human."
Julia!
The girl in the mirror stared back at him. For a moment, he thought he saw her lip quiver, tears of remorse fill her eyes. The grip around his neck relaxed ever so slightly. The girl in the mirror was ready to let go.
But then, her face changed into a snarl. "How dare you!" she hissed, and Hans looked back to see the frozen sorceress glaring at him with her hellish eyes. "How dare you speak such blasphemies!"
She threw him to the ground; Hans landed with a bellow on his bad shoulder. "You will pay for this," she snarled. "You have no right to speak such things to me! I am a deity! I am the ruler of all this pathetic, worthless world, and you will be the first sacrifice to my appeasement!" She raised her hand, fingers crackling with an unholy blue light.
Elsa felt the scream catch in her throat as time itself seemed to freeze, freeze into that horrible moment between reality, and the future she couldn't bear to see come true. And then—and then, time thawed again into a rush of purest warmth, a thousand moments flashing before her eyes in crystal clarity, filling her with courage, with compassion…
"May I present, Prince Hans of the Southern Isles."
"Your sister is dead! …Because of you."
"Elsa, I regret what I did to you and your sister with every fiber of my being."
"I understand this excuses nothing, and I'm not asking for your forgiveness."
"Hatred and love cannot coexist; eventually, one will overtake the other. Hatred enslaves us, and love sets us free."
"I am not defined by the ice of my curse, but by the warmth of my heart."
"Hans, I forgive you! I forgive you!"
"You sacrificed yourself for me?"
"I love you."
And as her heart was lifted up by the warmth of her understanding, Queen Elsa of Arendelle made her decision. Even as the sorceress's cursed hand came plunging down, she rushed forward, stepping between the Snow Queen and the man she had finally come to forgive, and the power of a heart frozen to solid ice found a willing sacrifice in one consumed with the fire of truest, purest love.