A/N: Sorry for the late update. Writer's block... again.
Update: Rectifying my mistake. Changed a little something on Elsa's part as to clarify what is truly happening behind the scenes.
Hans gasped for air; he'd forgotten to breathe ever since he saw her handwriting. Elsa's handwriting. For the next ten minutes, he'd read them tens of times over, trying to find any signs of discrepancies. Signs that would tell him finally that this was a forgery. It had to be; his logic dictated that there would be no way Elsa could have written, let alone send a letter to him when he was this far hidden behind the enemy lines.
Yet every stroke, every chosen word led him to believe otherwise.
Dearest Hans,
I dearly hope you are well. We, our baby and I, are safe and well too, have no worries.
We both know you may have neither the opportunity nor time to read this properly, so I will as brief as I can.
I'm sure you know that The Warlock has been defeated by now. And I have reliable sources saying that he will not be returning any time soon. The Alliance has been making very good progress on all of the fronts, and I have faith that the day we will see the end of the war will not be far.
So please, wherever you are now, leave Nordgard behind and come back to Arendelle. We know that you did what you did for us, that you were fighting against them alone from the inside. Anna has had everyone convinced that you were doing what you did out of loyalty to Arendelle itself. You needn't shoulder your burdens all alone anymore.
Come home, Hans. We are waiting for you.
Love you always, not even death can do us part.
Yours Eternally,
Elisabeth Margarethe Brunhild Nordstjerne
Elsa… is safe?
A bead rolled down Hans' left cheek. By the time he'd read the signature for the last time, emotion and relief had overwhelmed him. He covered his face with his hands, suppressing the sobs that escaped his lips. Occasionally, he'd gasp for air and inhale deeply as to steady himself.
When he'd finally managed to regain some semblance of emotional grip, Hans immediately crumpled the letter on his hand and tore it to pieces. He jumped to the side of the furnace on the wall and threw in some pieces of wood into the hearth. The fire lit up, and without pause, Hans threw the pieces of paper that once contained his beloved wife's written words.
No trace, no evidence. No one would know.
Tonight, too, these stone halls appeared no different. Then why did it feel so strangely difficult to navigate up and down through it?
Unless… the problem wasn't with the halls, but with himself.
Hans had spent sleepless night ever since he received and read that letter, and that surely took its toll.
Every night, filled with restless contemplation. And every time, he'd arrive to the same conclusion: he couldn't leave. Not yet.
Just because Elsa was safe for now didn't guarantee that no harm would befall her in the future. Not until The Warlock was dead, and Nordgard vanquished. Therefore, as tempting as the idea of abandoning his mission and returning to Arendelle was, Hans had decided that he wouldn't.
He must see this through to the end.
On the other hand, something must have stirred inside the Nordgardian court; it wasn't everyday occurrence that the King Vaynord himself would issue a summon to him. Hans thought it was a rather good coincidence that he decided to stay. Who knows he'd be able to learn another secret or two he could use against them?
As soon as he'd entered the throne room, he was greeted by an audience of soldiers.
The White Wolf Army. Fully equipped and armored. No fewer than a hundred, standing in two formations, leaving a small path which leads to the throne.
The king.
Steeling himself, Hans began his pace. His eyes fixated upon he who sat on the throne.
The White Wolf, Vaynord I of Nordgard.
The white mane of hair. The sharp, crimson eyes. And the thin lips that seemed to perpetually twist into a smirk.
Hans could never forget it even if he wanted to. Beside the throne stood his brother, Stefan, also clad in full armor. His face was hidden behind the steel helmet he now wore.
"Your Majesty," Hans kneeled.
"Magister Jeigan," came the king's smooth, crisp voice. "Rise."
At the King's command Hans stood.
Three paces.
Only three paces, that was the distance between them. A single leap and a sword stroke, and Hans could end the war, right here, right now.
Yet something deep inside stalled him.
Perhaps it was self-preservation. His desire to go back to his beloved Elsa and their unborn child. Even if he could kill the king now, the hundred soldiers would ensure his life forfeit. And with Stefan against him, there was no conceivable way Hans could take the King's head swiftly enough, and…
That smirk!
The King knew what Hans was aiming for – that he would be tempted to kill him. And then he still stood from his seat and strode fearlessly towards him. They were a mere pace apart now, standing face to face. Hans could feel the weight of his weapons. A swift stroke, and the war would end. Still, the King stood before him, his vicious smile wider than ever. And he… did he just lean forward? It was as if he daring Hans to make his move.
Madness. Calculated madness, but still madness nevertheless.
Hans stayed his hand. Grudgingly, his respect for this enemy grew.
"You summoned me, my King?" Hans bowed.
"Yes, Magister Jeigan," the King's crimson eyes bared into his.
"If I may ask…"
"... What for?" interjected Vaynord. "Indeed, that is the question. And do I hate pleasantries. I shall tell you what you wish to know: you are hereby to join me at the Peace Summit."
Hans couldn't believe his ears.
"Peace... Summit?"
"Yes. Hadn't you heard? And I'd heard you were a curious one."
The King eyed Stefan as he said the word curious. Of course Hans had heard the gist of it, yet he played the fool all the same. After all, he was right in the middle of the enemy's den. Excessive display of intelligence would only raise unwanted suspicions.
"We will be signing an armistice, at Corona," Vaynord continued airily. "This is necessary while we formulate the technicalities for a permanent peace. We shall invite all the leaders of the Alliance, and we will end the war, then and there."
"I…"
"Is that not what you wanted?" the King cut him, sensing his hesitation. "Peace, at last? The end of the war?"
"What you will, I shall follow, my King," Hans bowed hurriedly. A mixture of foul emotion welled inside him. King Vaynord was a proud beast. He was not not the type to sue for peace; he would first die before showing such weakness, that much Hans knew. Unless…
"Good," said the King. "Tell me, you used to be under Magister Ghish's command, did you not?"
"That is correct, Your Grace."
The King continued to stare intently at Hans that he was forced to avert his gaze.
"Fine then," the White Wolf said finally. "From now on, you shall report to Magister Zelgabaarth. Work with him to prepare the details of the Peace Summit. I will be counting on you."
Hans couldn't see Stefan's face, but the mocking grin he could feel from behind that steel mask was unmistakable.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Elsa put her pen down, rubbing her strained wrist. She'd written for hours now – mostly from the comfort of her bed, thankfully, but it was still quite a draining activity. Anna had just informed her a few days ago that Kristoff had disappeared, and Elsa knew right then her sister must had been devastated. She spared no efforts in her correspondence with Anna, giving her words of encouragement and guidance in this time of turmoil. The Queen also asked Rapunzel and Eugene, on separate letters, to watch over her sister. The Princess Regent would need all the help she could get.
Elsa couldn't help but curse her helplessness at this time. She'd asked Gale to connect her with Anna once again magically, yet it was to no avail.
If only I could, Queenie! Your sister is too far away from the Enchanted Forest. Without its magical power within it acting as a magical bridge, there was no way I could connect you two like I did before!
Elsa sighed and pored at the stack of letters she'd written. Military pacts, domestic arrangements, personal encouragements… they were all written with Anna in the center of her thoughts, yes, but it didn't mean they didn't take their fair share of Elsa's limited stamina. The Queen bundled the stack neatly and set it on the side table.
Her hips were sore from the sitting and the weight of her bulging stomach. It might be a good idea to stand up and stretch.
Almost reluctantly, Elsa dragged her feet out of the blanketed bed. The cold wintry air stung her soles, yet she still made effort to move around and position herself to the side. Slowly, the tip of her toes touched the warm pelt-covered floor. Blood rushed through her spine and onto her head, bringing somewhat relaxing sensation. She made a point to stretch her joints before she'd jump back to the bed.
It was a strange thing, Elsa thought. In all her life, she had never expected to be bothered by the cold. 'The cold never bothered me anyway' was her mantra; always had been. Yet there she was, shivering in the cold of winter. Perhaps it was her pregnancy taking its toll on her stamina. Or… her diminishing magic. Even now she could no longer conjure anything greater than a light layer of snow, or a gentle breeze of air.
Elsa noticed something from the side of her eyes: the book on her writing desk. She looked back at her bed, tempted by the warmth of the blanket, but walked closer to the book instead. Her interest peaked; she reached for it and pored over a few pictured pages.
It was a storybook; one that Elsa herself had written to pass time and connect with the children. Perhaps it was her heightened maternal instincts, but lately she'd enjoyed more and more of companies of the Northuldran children. Especially babies. She could spend hours just observing babies, sleeping or awake.
To understand their needs and behaviors. To finally step into the role of a mother.
That interest, along with the tedium that came from having to refrain from intense physical activities sparked the interest that she had long ago: writing. In her solitary adolescence, geometry and literary were her companions, filling the void that was left by Anna's absence. It just felt right that, in this winter doldrums, she'd pick up the pen once again. And it's fortunate that Arendelle and Northuldra shared the same language. A common ancestry, perhaps?
Elsa glanced at the title of her half-finished work: The Warm Snowman and The Icy Princess. The inspiration, of course, came from hers and Anna's life story. She smiled and took it up, and was about to walk back to her bed when…
WHOOOSH
A strong gust broke through her window, blowing on her face and almost knocking her off balance.
"Gale!" Elsa snapped, irritated. "How many times have I told you not to break in like that!?"
Why, Elsa, I thought *I* told you I don't have arms to knock! Gale giggled teasingly.
Elsa sighed exasperatedly, shaking her head. "You know full well what I meant, don't you?"
Of course, the Spirit snickered, But where's the fun in that?
"Oh for God's sake…! I've no idea why I'm still bothering with you."
Hey! A little bit mean isn't it? Especially after all the couriering I've done for you-"
"How was it?" Elsa tilted her head up with surprising speed.
Eh, your husband is a difficult man, isn't he? it was rather hard to discern his motives from his expressions, but I do believe he has no intention of returning at the moment.
"Why? What did he do?"
He ripped and burned your letter. Crying, by the looks of it, but he didn't seem to budge. I'd observed him for a day or two, but his daily activities seemed… routine.
Elsa felt a mixture of anger and frustration. She knew it wouldn't be that easy to persuade her husband; he was a man of commitment and could be single-mindedly relentless when he had set his mind on a goal, but she didn't know his boarheadedness was this bad. She even lied in her letter, saying that Anna had managed to convince everyone that he didn't betray Arendelle, all to convince him to come back. After all, if his cover had already blown, and both foes and allies alike were privy of his purpose, what reason did he have to endanger himself even further in the bosom of the enemy?
"I won't give up," Elsa said, putting down the book she was holding and pulling from the table a fresh parchment.
Hey, wait a moment, you wouldn't ask me to go there again, would you? Do you know how far it is-
"Please, Gale, I have nobody else I can rely on for this," Elsa pleaded, grabbing a quill and an inkwell. She settled herself on the desk, uncomfortable as she was with her heavy belly.
… Ugh, fine. You owe me one, Queenie.
"I'm in your debt," Elsa nodded, smiling sweetly.
What are you gonna tell him though? It doesn't seem like normal words are going to reach him…
"I have to try," Elsa said, dipping her quill into the ink. "It's not like I can go there… or you could connect me to him like you did with Anna, could you?"
No, I can't, as I told you before-
"Hence I have no choice but to try," Elsa said, biting her lip and racking her head to find the words. "I'll make him see reason."
*KNOCK KNOCK*
The knock from the door jolted Elsa from her thoughts.
"Please, come in," she called. The door swung open, revealing Honeymaren and an elder Northuldran lady, whom Elsa recognized as Dina, the Northuldran midwife. The two briskly entered and closed the door behind them.
"Sorry to intrude, Elsa, are you busy?" asked Honeymaren. "We're here to check up on you."
"No," Elsa shook her head. "Pardon me for troubling you all this way." She got up from her chair, slowly, and started walking towards her bed instead. Both Northuldran ladies hurried to her side, each grabbing her arms to support her. Smiling, Elsa shook her head and they released her. She wasn't quite helpless just yet.
"Gosh, it's so cold!" exclaimed Honeymaren. "No wonder, you didn't light up your hearth! It's practically freezing in here!" She briskly paced towards the hearth, threw some pieces of wood, and worked on lighting up the fire. A few hits upon the flint and sparks started to fly. And soon, a minuscule pyre was born.
WOOSH
And it was gone.
"Is it the Wind Spirit?" asked the older lady excitedly. "Why, it's been forever since she was last here!"
Nice to see you again too! greeted Gale.
"She said 'Nice to see you again too'," Elsa giggled. "You seem to have a history with her, Dina."
"That I did," Dina nodded. "The Wind Spirit was always our closest companion. Indeed, I remember playing 'Blow me up' for hours on end."
"Blow me up?" Elsa eyed the moving Wind suspiciously.
Ah, it's a game where children ride on me. And I blow them upwards!
"Hmm, is that so?" Elsa narrowed her eyes on the Wind Spirit's suspiciously worded explanation.
"I wish I could hear and talk to her too," Honeymaren sighed, smiling. She had managed to light a second pyre, which had settled comfortably upon the hearth. Warmth started spreading upon the room. "She sounds nice."
"Oh, you have no idea," Elsa rolled her eyes, settling herself on the bed. "If only you knew how much a thorn on the side this Wind Spirit can be."
Honeymaren giggled. "Gale is her name, isn't that right?" Elsa nodded as the younger Northuldran held her backside and supported her into a comfortable position.
"Back then, we knew her as Slyph," said Dina, who was helping Elsa lift her legs onto the bed. "Our previous Chieftain, Yelena's grandfather, said that only the Wind Spirit was known by many names. The rest only have one each. Bruni the Fire Spirit. Nokk the Water Spirit. And Jord the Earth Spirit."
"Earth Spirit? I thought the Earth Giants are the Spirits of Earth?" asked Elsa. She started unbuttoning her tunic, and her prominent belly was laid bare soon after. Every time she'd looked at it whilst in the companion of others, she would feel both embarrassment and pride. Quite the strange mixture of emotion, indeed, but motherhood truly had brought up the side of her she never really knew. Until now.
"No, Earth Giants are the manifestation of the Earth Spirit," Dina said, touching Elsa's bare stomach. Elsa felt cold against her palm. Another alien sensation. "They are the avatar of the Earth Spirit, so to speak. But there is only one real Earth Spirit, Jord. And her body is supposedly what forms the northern mountain range."
That is true, Gale chimed in. Among all of us, Jord is the big one. That's why she has those Earth Giants roaming the land for her; she's too lazy and too fat to move around!
"Is it appropriate to talk ill of your compatriots, though?" Elsa raised her brow. "Oh, sorry, I was talking to Gale," she added hastily, noting Dina and Honeymaren's reactions.
Ha, serves you right! Gale mocked. You guys, she was talking about you, you know!
But of course nobody except Elsa could hear the Gale's words. Elsa ignored the Wind Spirit and turned her attention towards Dina instead. The Northuldran midwife spent a good few minutes feeling Elsa's stomach with her hands, and even planted her ear on it a few times, as if to listen. Elsa kept observing with anticipation, until the midwife finally ceased and looked at her.
"So… how was it?" Elsa asked nervously. She was rather surprised, yet also elated when the midwife smiled at her, so much that a mirroring smile emerged on her own lips. "Good news, I suppose?"
"Excellent, Elsa," said Dina. "And previously you've said the baby has been moving about and kicking frequently, if I'm not mistaken?"
"Yes… I counted fifteen times, yesterday. I can't recall about all the other days, but I felt it just as often… I suppose."
"Then it's probably a boy," said Dina a-matter-of-factly.
"A… boy?" Elsa parroted, incredulous.
"Yes," Dina smiled. "Judging by the shape of your belly and the activity of the baby, it seems likely."
"I see… A boy…"
Elsa did not know how to respond. On one hand she was elated that the baby was fine. And knowing it was a boy, Hans would probably jump out of his seat and set a parade around the town if he were here. Yet the thought of Hans and his folly of a quest turned her mood sour, and the smile from her face dissipated.
"Uh… I don't suppose you'd prefer a girl instead?" Dina asked worriedly.
"No," Elsa shook her head, wiping a bead of tear from the side of her eye. "I just remembered something else… something less pleasant."
Honeymaren placed her hands on Elsa's shoulder and squeezed it gently. Elsa glanced at her and their eyes met; Honeymaren's were full of concern.
"Do you… want to tell me about it?"
"Thank you for your concern, Honeymaren. It's about Arendelle. This war is starting to take a toll on my sister, and I need to help her on urgent matters." Elsa lied. Partially. The thought of Hans also brought forth Anna's predicament to the surface of her attention. "I just… need some time alone for now," she added, finally managing to fake a convincing smile.
"If you say so, then," Honeymaren nodded. "But please call me, or Dina, or anyone else if you need anything else, okay?"
"Certainly," Elsa's fake smile widened. "Gale will be keeping me company as well."
"Very well then, Elsa," said Dina. She added in a stern voice. "I know I have said this many times, but you have to take very good care of yourself, you hear? Try to control your negative thoughts. And most of all don't overwork yourself. Your body doesn't belong only to you now."
"I will," Elsa bowed. The two bowed in return and excused themselves.
So… should I hang around? came Gale's voice once a firm click was heard from the door.
"Yes, and be a dear and fetch me some paper and quill, would you? You heard what Dina said: I can't strain myself too much."
Reduced to a courier and a page… some mighty Wind Spirit am I!
Trickle
…
Trickle
…
Trickle
Musty air filled his nose and lungs. Cold and heavy sensation on his wrists.
*Throb*
"Ah!"
Stinging, jolting pain on his head brought him back to reality, which felt unusually heavy and suffocating. Kristoff gave his head a few shake, trying to drive away the pounding sensation inside his skull. His eyes fluttered and refocused, and all he could see was dimly lit stone walls.
A prison cell, go figure. Wouldn't be the last thing on Kristoff's mind, given what he remembered about those hooded freaks were talking about 'taking him alive'. He glanced at both his wrists and saw what caused the cold, coiling sensation: metal cuffs, each chaining his hands to opposite ends.
He put strength into his right arm and pulled as had as he could; the metal chain gave a loud rattle yet it did not budge. The damned thing was just too tough; brute strength alone wouldn't be able to break it.
"Damn it!" he cursed, and suddenly he realized something: "Hey… there's no gag! Hello!? Anybody there!?"
His voice echoed through the dungeons, yet as he waited… no one came.
Kristoff sighed; he'd try escaping, but no idea had come to mind yet. He leaned back and decided to rest his still throbbing head. Panicking and wasting energy on pointless escape attempts didn't seem wise at the moment. Who knows how long he'd have to spend in this cursed place?
"Anna… please, be safe."
A/N: Not much commentary from me this time, except that something big is brewing. You'll see. ;)
The update: Elsa was lying in her letter.
As of now, only The Southern Isles high command, Elsa, and Anna are privy of Hans's survival. Ghish, Stefan, and Vaynord are ones from the enemy's side to know of it as well. I'm sorry if the previous writing causes confusion, as I feel Elsa or Anna wouldn't behave like idiots and spread the news of Hans's survival around. After all, if Hans was deep behind enemy lines, they wouldn't risk spreading the information that could cause him harm.
As always, reviews, faves and follows are appreciated!