Chapter 10
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.
The Royal Family of Teutonia, the Iron Chancellor and General von Helm were greeted with a traditional warm Arendellian welcome when they disembarked from their ship in the warm spring evening. The townspeople of the small city had gathered at the harbor in their Sunday best to greet the foreign nobility with many a curtsy and wave.
It was, Elsa reflected on watching them disembark, a far more familiar reception than the people of Teutonia would have considered appropriate for their emperor.
Bows, handshakes and curtsies were exchanged. Anna, as the official ambassador, took the lead as they walked along the pier. She exchanged delighted giggles and cheek-kisses with Princess Louisa-Rose, and, after introducing the Kaiser to the Arendellian lords and ministers of the council (accompanied by further bows and curtsies), grabbed the young princess's hand. "There's someone you just have to meet while you're here. Mrs. Olesdötter is the best baker in town, and she makes the most wonderful kransekake…!"
"My dear!" The Kaiser shook the Queen's hand warmly. "Our sincerest congratulations on your marriage."
"Thank you. We do apologize for not inviting your Majesty, but we were rather compelled by circumstance…"
"Quite understandable, quite. I'm afraid the wedding gift we commissioned has not been completed, but it should be arriving shortly."
"How kind of you."
They followed Anna and Louisa down the pier. "Tell me," said the Kaiser quietly, maintaining a pleasant expression as the townspeople peered on with varied expressions of interest or admiration, "has His Majesty King Agnar arrived yet?"
"I'm afraid not; we believe he may have been waylaid by the squalls in the North Sea."
"Ah yes. The weather was quite eventful on the journey…well, hopefully he will arrive by tomorrow."
"We anticipate such, your Majesty." And this is the point, she thought dryly, looking around at them all—Anna and the young princess enthusiastically shaking hands with the thrilled baker, Kristoff engaging in small talk with the Teutonian general—this is the point where we all make up and take tea together, as if we were friends from long back, because war is business and we have reached an agreement which cost us, personally, nothing. What was it the Duke had told her? Food, money, soldiers, soil. And now he was in a box in the ground, and his son wore his crown. She wondered if the young duke would have been able to take tea with the enemy. She wondered at what point in a war you couldn't help but price blood by the gold it cost.
At the back of the party, the new prince-consort took his place beside the Chancellor, giving pleasant nods and waves to the people. "Herr Chancellor," he said out of the corner of his mouth in Germanic. "How was your journey?"
"Oh, fine, thank you. Bit of rough weather, but nothing you navy types would consider a real storm. Congratulations on your marriage, by the way."
"Thank you." He gave a polite nod to the photographer of the Herald, who looked ready to snap a photograph; the nod he received in return delayed the picture just long enough that photograph which would appear in the morning edition would be of the group as a whole, not himself and the Chancellor personally. "I was wondering if you might join me for a drink in the library this evening, after the rest have…retired?"
"Oh?" The Chancellor gave a hearty wave to the people. "Business or pleasure?"
"With any luck? Both."
"Excellent."
They were greeted at the castle by the palace staff, who curtsied to the foreign nobility in their newly-pressed green uniforms and escorted them inside, to a wonderful dinner of Francian delicacies mixed with Arendellian national dishes. "A shame that His Majesty could not join us," said the Chancellor politely, as he flagged down a servant for another glass of champagne.
"Yes, I had hoped my brother would be here for the dinner. He does greatly enjoy the mutton stew here…"
Do not come until well past midnight. His instructions had been explicit, and he was pleased to find that Agnar seemed to be following them to the letter. Blame the weather. When you arrive, make your apologies but explain that the journey has been tiring and you would like to turn in immediately. If all goes well, I will have brokered the deal before you so much as speak to the Chancellor.
"What a pity."
"Indeed."
"And he doesn't even know the woman?"
"I'm afraid not. But that's the way it is."
Anna whistled and shook her head. "And Hans thinks he can get the Chancellor to agree?"
"It's hard to say. They're the two most persuasive people I've ever met." Elsa opened the left-hand pane on the triangle-window and let out a sigh of relief as the spring air flowed into the stuffy room. "What do you think, by the way?"
Anna eyed the new window pane. "I like it. Not being able to open my window was always a real bummer." Elsa giggled. "But papa would so be scolding you for wasting all the warm air…"
"We've tried everything else!" the elder sister exclaimed, as the younger laughed, a silhouette in braids before the warm crackling of the fire. "I get too hot with the fire, Hans says I make the room too cold without it–"
"You do though, you absolutely do!" Elsa scowled and threw a spritz of snowflakes at her. "I'm serious! Do you know how many times I woke up when we were little–"
"Oh, hush."
"Shivering and covered in goosebumps–"
"That's because you kick the covers off," Elsa admonished, and Anna giggled.
"Anyway, I think you're wrong about Hans being the 'most persuasive person we know.'"
"Oh?" The queen sat down on the bed and began unbraiding her hair. "Did you have another candidate in mind?"
"You, obviously." Elsa blinked in surprise. "I mean, convincing King Agnar to stop the war—I don't know how you did it," her little sister said admiringly.
Elsa shrugged and got under the covers. "I didn't try to persuade him. I just told him the truth."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Exactly what it sounds like."
Anna shook her head, bemused, and then stretched with a yawn. "I should get going. Big day tomorrow. G'night, 'don't let the frostbite bite.'"
"Goodnight, Anna. Sleep well." The younger sister opened the door to leave, and abruptly the elder changed her mind: "Anna?" The princess turned back to see the queen biting her lip. "Could you– I'm sorry, but could you stay here until Hans gets back? I…I don't want to be alone."
Anna's eyes widened in understanding, and she shut the door again. "Sure. Whatever you need." Elsa looked away, abashed. "…They, um, they told me you and Hans got stock in the middle of the blockade," the princess said carefully. She sat down on the edge of her sister's bed. "That must have been pretty scary, I mean, I know I would have been scared–"
The frost spiraled across the duvet as the queen squeezed her eyes shut. "I don't want to talk about it."
Anna nodded sympathetically. "That's okay."
"And this isn't 'conceal, don't feel,' I just–"
"Elsa." She opened her eyes as her sister took her hand. "We can talk about anything you like," Anna said earnestly. "Okay?" Elsa nodded, looking very small and terribly exhausted. "I could tell you about babysitting Princess Cressida. Would you like that?"
"Yes," the queen sighed, relaxing an inch. "Yes, that would be lovely." Anna grinned at her, and as always, her little sister's manner set the queen at ease.
"Scoot over; I'm not sitting here all night." Elsa chuckled and moved over, and her sister bounded up beside her. "Oh, Elsa, she's just the cutest little girl, you wouldn't believe it. And a real troublemaker, too! You know Queen Arianna told me our mother used to be the same way? I bet it runs in the family." The queen smiled and rested her eyes as her sister continued: "One day we took a walk in the garden, and…"
A warm sea wind was blowing outside the window by the time the two men sat down in the Arendelle palace library that late hour—bringing in the last great storm of the spring, the navy officer reckoned. "I see you and the queen are in the middle of a game," said the Chancellor, studying the board on the table behind the couch; the pieces were set up halfway through a match. "She mentioned that you play quite frequently."
"Yes; it's our little break from paperwork. As you can see, she's winning."
"Does she often win?"
"About fifty-fifty, I'd say. She's become a much better player now that she has someone to play against."
"I can imagine. The Ambassador does not exactly seem the sort."
Hans chuckled, going to the fireplace. "The Ambassador is a woman of many excellent qualities, and a natural instinct for diplomacy. Chess, however, is not among her preferred pastimes."
"I see." The Chancellor sat down in the armchair with an appreciative glance at the board. "Tell me, how are things faring in the Southern Isles?"
Hans lit the hearth with a snap of his fingers; it roared to life, filling the room with golden-scarlet light and flickering shadows. "They could be going better, to tell you the truth," he said, pulling on his glove. "I'm sure you've seen the papers. Ending the war was a popular decision, but I'm afraid that hasn't quite translated into popular support for the monarchy that sent them to war in the first place." The Chancellor hummed his acknowledgement. "A certain amount of young men simply will not be returning home. The people's blood is up, and since the Isles has recently acquired a rather large amount of rifles…"
"Yes; that riot in Århus, dreadful thing. How many were killed?"
"Just two—trampled. My brother gave explicit orders that lethal force was not to be used under any circumstances."
"I see. Well, that was a prudent decision, though I wonder if it will be enough to quell the…public dissatisfaction."
Public dissatisfaction caused by your actions. "Yes; he's in an unenviable position." Hans immediately bit his own tongue. Control your temper, man; you can't afford to offend him now.
But the Chancellor looked anything but insulted. His expression, strangely, seemed almost…appraising? "Indeed. As it happens, Prince Johannes, word has it you have a great deal of popularity in the Isles at the moment."
"Do I?"
"Mm—and even as your brother has rather fallen in favor, both in public standing and in the eyes of the aristocracy. The war has destabilized his position on all sides, it seems."
"Yes, it's a serious concern," Hans jumped on, seeing his opening to bring the conversation around to his own point. "The people don't care that he surrendered early, only that he sent their sons off to die at all—and the aristocracy are furious with the loss of the duchies."
"Precisely. Whereas you, on the other hand, have the almost universal support of the common people for persuading the king to end the war—and for not fighting against them on Corona's behalf."
Hans stared.
"Of course, the aristocracy and the military would never back your claim, considering you're even more for modernization than your brother," the Chancellor said with a shrug. "And the Arendellian navy can't quite match up to that of the Isles; her land army would in this case be, of course, rather useless."
"…A powerful land army from the south, however, would be of immeasurable use," said the prince slowly. How unsettling, he thought, how deeply unnerving, to find a man who thought so much like himself…
"Indeed. Most particularly if this army were composed of young men whose lands you just helped liberate from an oppressor. I imagine it would be rather awkward for our young Southern rebels and Germanic soldiers to march shoulder-to-shoulder so soon after firing at each other, but I'm sure they could put aside their differences given the right incentive. And who knows? With the League's forces and a man like yourself working together, the Southern military might just reconsider where their loyalties lie before any bloodshed need occur."
Outside the windows, the early-May wind stirred the flowering trees, and the north sea beat against the fjord's rocky shore. The fire in the hearth crackled, the new tongues of flame licking upwards to taste the air.
"...Ahah." Hans gave a half-chuckle, rising to his feet. The Chancellor watched calmly as he went to his desk and undid the glass stopper on the brandy bottle. "Beautiful work, Chancellor. A masterful stroke, I must admit. Brandy?"
"Yes, thank you."
Hans nodded, pouring the glass as slowly as he dared, thinking. He replaced the stopper and returned, watching the liquor swirl in the glass.
What would have taken many men several hour's worth of concerted thought to understand (and many others simply would never have gotten there) took the prince only two swirls of his brandy. And what he thought in those two swirls was this: he thought about a world laid out like a war map, with pieces scattered throughout. On one side of the map he saw a white queen, with the power to move across the board at ease—except, it seemed, she would not. The queen was immovable. The rest of the board continued to play as though she did not exist. But he saw a little red pawn inching its way north, across the borders, and when it reached the other side, it too became abruptly, and dangerously, powerful. The pawn was clearly willing to move where it pleased—willing to change sides to arrange its own advantage. Willing to repay a helpful chessmaster when it gained the power of a queen.
This was never about the duchies.
Hans looked up. The Chancellor looked back. He handed the brandy across.
"My sincerest gratitude, Chancellor, but I'm preoccupied with matters here in Arendelle."
"For the moment?"
"Indefinitely," Hans replied, firmly.
And for the first time since he'd met the man, he thought Von Eisen looked surprised.
"Interesting. May I enquire as to your reasons?"
"Not all men think in terms of chess, Chancellor."
"No. But you do."
The prince smiled wryly. "Not all men think only in terms of chess."
The Chancellor looked thoughtful, and gave a nod. "Perhaps." He raised the brandy. "In that case, I wish you a happy marriage."
"My thanks." The prince took his seat as the Chancellor took a sip. "How is the brandy?"
"Excellent, thank you."
The conversation meandered around inconsequential matters for a time, before the clock struck the hour. Hans stood. "If you will pardon me, I really must be turning in. The Queen enjoys reading before bed, and I imagine she'll notice if I'm not there working away on my next publication." Von Eisen chuckled. As Hans headed towards the door, he counted his steps. One. Two…
"Sir."
The Chancellor raised his brows and peered over the brandy glass as the younger man turned back. With a tone that suggested it was an afterthought, Hans added: "You have a cousin, as I recall, on your father's side? Recently widowed?"
"You are referring to the Lady Schönhausen, I presume."
"If you are looking to make allies in the Southern Isles," said the prince calmly, "My brother is, as yet, unmarried." The Chancellor's eyes widened just a fraction. "With the war behind him, I believe he may be amenable to creating ties with the League—especially with our siblings returning home in less than two years."
It did not take the empire-builder two swirls of a brandy to figure out what the prince was getting at. "An interesting suggestion. I shall keep it in mind."
"Sir."
"Himmelenvelsignet."
The Chancellor gave a polite nod of his head which counted, for him, as a bow. The scarlet light of the flames crackled between them, safely contained in the hearth, and Hans realized it was the first time in a long while that he had heard anyone save Elsa acknowledge the true origins of their power—divine might, not mere magic and trinketry. He thought back to the moment of watching von Eisen dangle the hint of train-tables and telegrams before the Francian ambasador, and how he had assumed the man had been merely taking a risk for the fun of it. I even thought of it as "playing with fire." What a fool I was. He had known the Chancellor was testing him even then, though all this time he had never thought to ask why. He knew exactly what he was doing. He knew exactly what we were capable of—what I was capable of.
And he knew at what price I'd shown I could be bought.
Hans returned the bow, and left.
"Destablizing Agnar's position wasn't merely a side-effect, it was one of the goals."
Elsa watched him as he stared down at the pattern on the wood tile, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. The bedroom was dark, the fire in the corner letting off only marginal red light from the coals.
"He wanted to unify the duchies, of course, but he also wanted me—I don't know precisely why, but I can pretty well imagine. He needed to keep me out of the war on both sides, and by George he did it."
"It could have been either of us."
"No. He knew you couldn't be bribed." The unspoken half of that statement hung in the air, and she bit her lip, her blue eyes watching his gravely. "I read the casualty reports. Nine hundred and six men dead, another five-hundred odd wounded."
"A fraction of what it could have been," she said quietly. He didn't answer. "Hans, this wasn't your fault."
At last her husband looked over. The dim firelight danced off the green in his eyes. "He thought he knew what kind of man I am, Elsa."
"He was wrong." She took his hand into hers and met his eyes firmly. The prince-consort pursed his lips, and then some of the tension drained out of his face as he nodded.
"Yes. He was."
"It's over and done with, now." She sighed, running her thumb over his knuckles. "But it's revealed a chink in our armor. For as long as you remain prince-consort, you appear vulnerable to outside influences."
He nodded. "I know you were hoping to wait a few more years before doing this, but all considered…"
"We've already rushed the marriage," she agreed. "We may as well go the full measure."
They locked gazes, each daring the other to speak first.
"Ask me," Elsa said softly.
The prince shook his head. "I made you a promise."
"Ask."
"No."
And the queen smiled.
The scritch-scritch of the quill as the Kaiser signed the paper seemed to fill the silent room. Around the table the dignitaries, counsellors and representatives stood silently. Admiral Lund sat at the Southern king's back, while on the opposite side of the table the Chancellor looked on, with an expression of perfectly tranquil interest. The Arendellians stood along the long edge of the table, beside the League's ambassadors from Dun Broch and Francia, as witnesses to the treaty.
The camera flashed like an abrupt sunburst, and Agnar blinked, startled. The paper was slid across to him, a gloved hand guiding it, and when he looked up he saw his brother's eyes looking back—green and direct, like Agnar's own, like their mother's.
The king took up his pen, and then stopped. The dignitaries were watching him intently. He stared down at the paper, and then swallowed the bitter bile and, biting the inside of his cheek, signed his name in the Old Tongue, as the law demanded. The photographer's magnesium flashed again. He set down the pen, with a quiet and final clack that nonetheless sounded throughout the room.
The Arendellian Queen, acting as the lawspeaker, recited the terms of agreement in the Old Tongue and then again in Germanic, and both kings stood. They shook hands, and then, per custom, took back up their swords from the table. With that, the independence of the duchies of Schwarzenbek and Ratzeburg and subsequent integration into the Northern League was complete.
"…Well then." The company turned to the Ambassador, who was smiling at them all warmly, hands clasped; immediately the atmosphere in the room grew a little more congenial. "With that finished, my sister and I would like to welcome you all properly to Arendelle. I believe the Queen has an announcement…"
"In honor of this agreement, restoring peace to Scandinavia and the Germanic lands," said the Queen courteously, "and in a spirit of friendship and mutual understanding, Arendelle would like to personally extend to you the first word of, and invitations to, the coronation of His Royal Highness Prince Johannes, two months hence on the first of July."
There was a stir of murmurs around the room; the Herald editor took out his notebook and began to write. "Through Corona, the League has become Arendelle's ally, as are the Southern Isles," Hans said clearly. "We look forward to continuing to develop our relationships with you both. And it is, of course, my great honor to accept her Majesty's offer to serve Arendelle now more devotedly." He met his brother's eyes. "Today, and with the rest of my life."
So, he told you, did he, brother? Agnar held his brother's gaze. He told you about the muttering in our streets, how the people clamor for a new king. Hans's eyes flickered away as he gave the gathered company a warm smile. He made you an offer. And you turned him down.
"We've had the castle staff prepare some refreshments for you all," said Princess Anna cheerily. "Please, enjoy yourselves."
The diplomats dispersed into various groups as the servants brought in refreshments of light drink and Arendellian pastries. Agnar watched carefully as Chancellor von Eisen made his way around the room, pausing a few minutes to speak with the Kaiser and with the Queen. At last, he made his way over to the Southern king.
"Your Majesty. I do not believe we have had the pleasure of meeting before."
"I do not believe so, Herr Chancellor." They shook hands. "So," said the king, taking a drink from his glass. It was, after all, a Sunday. "The Queen is making my brother a king."
"The thirteenth son of a royal family. I suppose men of lower standing have risen to greater heights."
Agnar glanced to the statesman out of the corner of his eye. "Indeed."
"It has always interested me how the currents of politics can make or break an individual's fortune," von Eisen continued. "The tide seems to just pick some people up and carry them along, far beyond their natural stations."
"And my brother is just such a man, I suppose."
"Your brother," said the Chancellor thoughtfully, "is a sailor. He knows how to read the tides. He understands them."
"Did you ever serve in the navy, Sir?" said Agnar abruptly, irritated. The Chancellor chuckled.
"No. But I have always admired those who did. I know their stories well."
"Then you are like my brother in at least one way. He likes his stories."
Von Eisen laughed. "Yes, he does." He turned to face the king. "I have something of a fondness for tales of rags-to-riches myself, you know."
"Do you."
"Yes, I suppose I rather empathize with those darling young heroines. Though I wouldn't say I came from modest means myself, I had an ancestor, the Duchess of Schönhausen—who, by proving her loyal love, and political indispensability, to her feudal lord became Princess of Eisen upon their marriage. Her story has always…inspired me."
"I can imagine." The Chancellor was watching him carefully. "You are the current Duke of Schönhausen, aren't you?"
"Yes—but I've made the legal heir to that title my cousin, the Lady Schönhausen. My children will inherit Eisen, of course."
"The Lady is a widow, I believe. With an eight-year-old son."
"Indeed."
By this point, Agnar had noticed the ambassadors from Dun Broch and Francia listening nearby; the former in particular was watching the conversation attentively. The king set his drink down, feeling the blood rush to his cheeks; he had rarely felt so humiliated, and that was saying something. "How long, may I ask, until her Ladyship's period of mourning is complete?"
"Two months. As it happens, I intend to ask the Kaiser to send her to Arendelle as our representative around that time—for the coronation."
And all that was left was to get down on his knees and beg like the desperate man he was. "I would be very much interested in meeting her."
"It would be my pleasure to deliver a message to her, if you would like, your Majesty."
"Yes…thank you. I will have the letter written before your departure."
The Chancellor inclined his head. "If you'll excuse me, your Majesty, I need a word with the Kaiser. Do forgive me."
"Of course." He watched the statesman walk away. And just like that, Agnar thought, with the help of cleverer, more powerful men, his position was secured. It was a bitter gall to swallow.
"Your Majesty."
He looked over. The Dun Brochish ambassador bowed stiffly.
"I was wondering if I might trouble you for a word in private?"
"I suppose…"
They drew aside towards the wall. The ambassador, Agnar noted, was the sort of man so stiff and gray that he vanished into the wallpaper of any conference room, save for the bright emerald tartan sash and gold brooch featuring the sword-and-two-bears emblem of the Empire. Agnar found himself distracted by the pin's intricate knotwork, before he cleared his throat and returned to earth. "What is this concerning, Ambassador?"
"Respectfully, your Majesty, the international powers could not help but notice that the Southern Isles have undertaken a new plan of modernization. Dun Broch has been paying especial attention."
"Have they," Agnar said uncertainly. He couldn't tell if the stiff-faced, stiff-mustached man was in earnest or not.
"Yes. Of course, Dun Broch would be most pleased to see another nation enter fully into the new era, particularly the Southern Isles; such advancements would be greatly beneficial to all parties on the North Sea. We would be most eager to support the process—perhaps with some renegotiations of our current contracts of trade?"
Well, that was swift. Agnar glanced over his shoulder. The Francian ambassador was pouring himself another flute of champagne and attempting to flirt, unsuccessfully, with Princess Louisa-Rose, while the Arendellian princess leapt to her rescue. "What did you have in mind?"
On the other side of the room, the queen leaned in towards her sister as Anna returned from saving the Teutonian princess, watching the milling diplomats. "Where's Kristoff? I thought he said he was going to be here."
"Something came up," Anna whispered. "It seemed serious; he said to tell you he'd be over as soon as he could."
"More serious than this?"
The princess shrugged. "He had his 'ambassador face' on. The one where he gets that little crinkle over his nose?"
"I'll have to take your word for it." She raised her head. "Ah. Speak of the devil."
Kristoff had appeared in the doorway, dressed in his full ambassadorial gákti and sash for the occasion. He made a few polite bows and nods on his way over, but Elsa noted that Anna had been right—the man's face was serious. "Elsa," he said in an undertone as he approached, glancing around. "Sorry I'm late."
"Anna said it was something serious?"
"Um– yeah. Yeah, pretty serious." He took a deep breath. "Actually, could we have a word? In private?"
"Now?"
"As soon as you have a chance."
She studied the look on his face, and then handed her empty champagne glass to Anna. "Make my excuses for me if someone asks."
"Will do," the princess said curiously, glancing between her sister and husband. Elsa patted her arm.
"We'll tell you everything later."
She followed Kristoff out of the room and down the hall to the library, shutting the door behind her. She noted in surprise that the prince locked it and made a check of the room. "Kristoff? Are you alright?"
"Um– okay, Elsa, I know this is terrible timing, but…" He pulled a letter out from the inside of his coat and passed it to her. She scanned the contents, and then sat down slowly into her desk chair. Kristoff nodded nervously.
She looked up. "Are you serious?"
"Just came in. Gotta say, the messenger took it as a pretty good sign that he saw me in this." He plucked at a button on his coat.
Elsa frowned as she looked at the bottom of the letter. "What are these, these two lists here?"
"The names on the left are the villages who want to join with Arendelle; those on the right are those who want to remain independent but are asking for your help."
"The ones who want to join aren't all contiguous…"
"I know." He took a deep breath and sat down in the opposite chair. "Their complaint is justified, though. I've been watching the situation for a while. Nearly all of the tribes have been seeing incursions on their traditional territories by Ruthinian and even some Fendish settlements."
"Beyond the national borders?" Kristoff nodded. "Why are the settlements moving north?"
"Farmland. A lot of the territory up north isn't arable, but some of the land further south can be farmed. Some of it is being farmed, actually; these here…" He pointed to several villages on the lists, "...are permanent towns."
"And what are they asking, specifically?"
"Like I said, some of them want to join Arendelle, make an official claim on the land. Others are asking you to send soldiers to defend their sovereignty as small kingdoms."
Elsa frowned at the letter. "And what do you think I should do?"
She heard him draw a deep breath. "You know what I think." She nodded. "But I won't pretend it won't cost you. Making a claim to the northern lands would bring trouble. It'd definitely be disputed by Ruthinia and Fendoland, and possibly the Eastern Mountains too…"
"Especially since much of it would block their territory from the northern seaboard." He nodded. "And I can't maintain a defensible border against the other Scandinavian powers if the land officially considered Arendelle is scattered in non-contiguous chunks. But…" She bit her lip, thinking. "With the council's permission, I'm open to incorporating any of the contiguous villages who want to join and marking off the land as an official province. In fact, I would probably make it a duchy under your and Anna's family…"
"What about the rest of them?"
"Kristoff, you know our treasury reserves are low. There's only so much we can do. Besides, not all of the tribes have permanent boundaries; I can't defend an unspecified territory. The other Scandinavian powers would accuse me of land-grabbing."
"But it's their land, Elsa. They've used it since—forever, I guess, and they need it for their livelihood. Nobody else has ever laid claim to it until now. It belongs to them." He held her gaze. "It's the right thing to do."
There was a long silence as the queen mulled it over. Then she sighed.
"Send representatives to each of the tribes and have them plot out exactly what land belongs to them. I'll need that at the very least to morally justify my case. Whether the rest of Europe will recognize it is a different matter."
His eyes lit up. "So you'll do it?"
"It will depend on what we can afford. To make it sustainable the independent tribes will probably have to pay some form of recompense; otherwise I don't know how we'd support the military activity in their territories."
"That sounds a lot like taxes," he pointed out. Elsa pinched the bridge of her nose. "You know, the sort of thing you'd pay if you were already part of a kingdom?"
"Yes, well," she said bitterly, "empires are easier to defend than small kingdoms." She caught his expression and sighed again. "I'll do what I can, Kristoff. If you could convince the rest of the northern tribes to become officially part of Arendelle that would be a different matter."
"Just so you understand what you're asking me to do," he said, "you're asking me to tell them to give up their independence, pay you tribute, or risk losing their homes."
"I don't like it any more than you do."
After a long silence, he stood and bowed stiffly. "I'll go draw up a list of representatives."
"Thank you."
He left, and she rubbed her temples, staring down at the letter. At last, she put the paper in her desk drawer, left the library and locked the door behind her.
"Hey," Anna said as she returned to the conference room. The rest of the attendees seemed to be enjoying themselves more; champagne was flowing more freely, and the tell-tale signs of hobnobbing and deal-making were developing around the room. "Everything okay? Kristoff didn't come back."
"I'll explain everything later. We're–"
"A toast!" The room fell silent as the Iron Chancellor raised his flute of champagne. "A toast," he repeated, turning to King Agnar, who was eyeing him with an expression that told Elsa her husband's plan had succeeded. "To new beginnings—and to peace."
"To peace," everyone agreed. The queen raised her glass.
"To peace," she echoed a half-second late, and, ever so briefly, she thought she saw the Chancellor glance her way.
A/N: Hello all my wonderful readers!
I'm writing to you from the, ah, "comfort" of my apartment, bringing you this chapter today to help us all cope with the social distancing. :) There will be one more chapter after this; hopefully I'll have it up within a week or so.
On this wonderful St. Patrick's Day, I'd like to encourage all of my fellow Catholics and anyone else celebrating the holiday to please, stay home! It's essential that those of us who can social distance do so during this critical time, in order to "flatten the curve." Flattening the curve means spreading out the number of infections overtime, to keep it below the level which the health care system can handle, rather than spiking the number of infections above the bed capacity of hospitals—thereby possibly leaving gravely sick people without care. In honor of St. Patrick, and for the good of the sick and the elderly, let's stay in tonight and toast the holiday from our own homes.
