AN: Hello! Thank you everyone for your reviews, I'm sorry I don't often respond too many of them, but I want you to know I appreciate everyone of them. I hope everyone enjoys this chapter. Don't forget your complimentary box of tissues on the way out.
Elsa slept, a deep, dreamless slumber. She woke for a few minutes, or at least she thought she did. She had a hazy memory of Anna, of drinking something. She had struggled to stay awake but slipped back under the comforting, peaceful tides. She didn't know how long she slept before she was jerked awake by a sudden, violent cramping in her gut. Her eyes flew open as she attempted to curl onto her side, but a flare of pain stopped her mid-action.
She had felt this pain before, when she had stopped taking the medicine—the drug. Withdrawal, she thought as another wave of pain crashed through her stomach. Elsa wrapped her arms around her tender middle and drew her legs up, trying to ease the pressure tearing through her. She blew out a breath through clenched teeth as she rode the out the spasm. After a few minutes the pain eased, and Elsa slouched back against the pillows, breathing shallowly.
She looked around the room, unsurprised when her gaze landed on the sleeping form of her sister. Anna was slumped in a chair pulled close to the bed, her arms folded under her head, which rested on the mattress. Elsa smiled, comforted by her sister's presence. She reached forward and placed her hand on her sister's head, running her fingers through Anna's hair. She thought about waking the girl; her back would not be pleased about the position she'd chosen to sleep in. Elsa didn't, worried that Anna wasn't taking care of herself, wasn't resting enough. She wanted to allow her sister to sleep, at least a little while longer. Just long enough for Elsa to gather her own thoughts.
It was easier said than done. Her mind felt fuzzy and her thoughts slippery. The pain from her injuries was there, but in a distant, cottony sort of way, which meant at some point over the last few hours, they had given her something to dull it. Despite what she could only assume were rather hefty painkillers, if the cottony feeling in her head was anything to judge by, she still ached all over, with sharp stabs through her sides and wrist. Elsa sighed softly. She hated taking anything that made her feel fuzzy, though she wasn't particularly keen at experiencing the full force of the hole in her side, either, or the multiple broken bones.
Maybe she would speak with Malthe and see if there was some sort of middle ground. She knew that after everything that had happened over the last two months, everything that had been caused by her and by her magic, she only had so much room for negotiation regarding her recovery. She just needed her head to remain clear enough to decide their next move and set those things in motion so they could finally go home.
She had little time to consider her own actions, with Markkus, with what she did to Tyr. If Elsa was honest with herself, she didn't want to think about those things, not yet. There was too much there, and she wasn't ready to open that preverbal can of worms.
Instead, she thought back to her conversation with Malthe about what she might experience over the course of the withdrawal. If this was just the start, what she had experienced before, then the next few weeks were going to be a nightmare. She didn't want to say it out loud and risk worrying her little sister, but she was scared, terrified at the thought of what was to come. What she had gone through before had been bad enough, like coming down with the worst sickness of her life. This time, it would be worse. This time, she'd have other injuries to contend with at the same time.
Even now, she felt tired and weak, like she could easily sleep through the next month. She didn't know how she was going to make it through the next few weeks if things were only going to get worse. She toyed with the idea of allowing Malthe to slowly take her off the drug. It was a safer option, less stressful not just for herself but for those around her, particularly Anna. Elsa didn't want her sister to be forced to watch her struggle through a withdrawal, but at the same time, taking this drug in any amount, allowing herself such a vulnerability. . .
Elsa's fingers curled around her blanket. Even if she wanted to go that route, she couldn't. She was the Queen. Opening herself up to that sort of susceptibility and corruption wasn't something she could allow. She knew that Malthe, Anna, and Captain Jogeir would do everything in their power to keep anyone from trying to use such a weakness to their advantage, but two months was a long time and it would only take one slip.
She had a duty to her people to appear uncorrupted, beyond reproach. The short time she had taken it was bad enough, but another two months was unthinkable, and far too risky. Elsa also had to consider that after thirteen years of hiding from her people, she had finally come out into the light only to disappear three months later, on a trip north. It was going to be difficult enough balancing recovery and work without the added issues of taking a drug that would leave her so unacceptably vulnerable. She knew she couldn't spend another two months, possibly more, unavailable to both her people and the council. She had a duty and responsibility that she would not take so lightly.
She knew she could depend on Anna for help while she recovered, and depending on how bad things got in the upcoming weeks, she might have no choice but to entrust the kingdom to her little sister. The thought worried her, not because she didn't think Anna could handle it, but because she knew her sister. Anna would try to run the kingdom and take care of her, inevitably running herself into the ground.
Elsa was aware how hypocritical it was to want to make Anna take care of herself while she herself was horrible at doing the same. But if it meant Anna was safe and healthy and the kingdom was taken care of, then she could live with being a hypocrite.
Her stomach twisted sharply, causing her to gasp and jerk, and she once more tried to curl in on herself. She pressed a hand against her stomach and squeezed her eyes shut as she rode through the pain.
"Elsa?" She felt the mattress dip as her sister shifted, then a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Elsa, what's wrong?"
She peeled her eyes open and looked at the blurry, worried face of her sister. She opened her mouth to tell Anna that she was fine, but stopped herself, knowing that being so stubborn when she was obviously in pain would only hurt her sister more than protect her. "My stomach," she bit out.
"I'll get Malthe."
Anna got up, but Elsa reached out and grabbed her hand. "No. It'll pass. Just . . . give me a moment."
Anna looked unsure but sat back down on the bed. She tightened her fingers around Elsa's, and Elsa squeezed back in response. Like before, the pain eased after a few minutes and she sagged back against the pillow.
Anna's cool fingers brushed against her forehead, lingering for a moment before moving her bangs back. "You feel hot."
"Sorry," Elsa muttered automatically, opening her eyes to look at her sister.
Anna raised her eyebrows and cocked her head to the side. Instead of commenting, she asked, "are you okay? Are you sure you don't want me to get Malthe?"
"I'm fine." Elsa pressed her lips together. "It happened last time. They sort of just come and go."
"Withdrawal." The wrinkle between Anna's eyebrows deepened, and her hand tightened around Elsa's. "I don't know if I'm comforted or disturbed that you recognize the symptoms." She worried her bottom lip before asking, "are you sure you won't reconsider weaning off the drug?"
"Anna." Elsa shook her head. "You know I can't, for so many reasons."
Anna looked down at their entwined hands. "I know, but I had to try."
Elsa sighed. She felt guilty for what she was putting her little sister through, what she was still going to put her through. She squeezed Anna's hand. "How are you doing?"
Anna's gaze jumped up to meet Elsa's. "I'm fine."
"Anna, I know you. I know you're not fine. I can't imagine how hard these past two months have been for you."
"For me? I'm not the one laying in bed, hurt, going through withdrawal."
"My pain does not diminish yours."
Anna stared at her for a moment. Her face folded, and she turned away, pulling her hand from Elsa's scrubbing across her eyes. Elsa frowned and attempted to lean forward, to grasp her sister's arm, but when a sharp pain lanced through her side, she was reminded that was a bad idea. A groan rolled past her lips before she could stop it, and she pressed her head against the pillow, her unbroken arm across her side.
Anna whipped back, her hands hovering over Elsa without touching before she withdrew them. "Elsa, what are you doing? You shouldn't be moving. You're gonna hurt yourself."
Elsa blew out a breath, waiting a long moment before reaching out to recapture Anna's hand in her own, making a mental note that moving was an awful idea. As the pain faded back under that blissful cottony, distant feeling, Elsa returned her attention to her sister. "Anna. Talk to me." She jiggled Anna's hand lightly. "What's wrong?"
Her sister chewed on her lower lip, dropping her gaze to the blanket. The look on her face somewhere between wanting to cry and wanting to flee. Elsa tugged on her hand, tilting her head in the hopes to catch her gaze. "Anna?"
"I'm—" Anna hesitated, still not meeting her gaze. "Elsa, I'm so sorry."
Elsa shook her head. "For what?"
Anna chuckled humorlessly. She lifted her chin, tears welling in the corners of her eyes. "For what? For everything. If it wasn't for me, none of this would have happened."
Elsa blinked, her fuzzy mind working to make sense of Anna's words. "I'm sorry, I'm confused. What are you talking about?"
"All of this, you being hurt—"
"I was hurt because Tyr tried to kill me."
"—being captured by Markkus, and by the Sirma before that. This was all my fault because I didn't listen to you, because I thought I knew better." Anna turned her face away, rubbing her free hand across her cheeks and angrily brushing away the tears trailing down her cheeks.
Elsa blamed the drugs Malthe had her on for the lag, for the time it took for her to realize what her sister was talking about. "You mean the argument we had in Valle? You going to Erik after? Anna. . ." She tugged on her sister's hand again. "Anna, look at me."
Her sister hesitated before finally dragging her eyes up. Elsa's heart broke at the sadness and guilt that she saw there in Anna's gaze, and she wanted nothing more than to make those feelings disappear.
"Anna, we already talked about this, that night in the forest. This isn't your fault. Should you have listened to me? Yes." Elsa smiled. "Despite recent evidence to the contrary, sometimes I know what I'm doing. But Tyr and Erik had an entire company of men with them, and the cuffs . . ." She sucked in a breath. "It was clear they had no intentions of leaving Arendelle without me, one way or another."
Anna opened her mouth, looking ready to argue.
"But," Elsa continued before she had a chance, "I know no matter how many times I tell you that this wasn't your fault, you won't believe me. You will still blame yourself, so I want you to know, I forgive you. For everything, for all of it."
Elsa could almost see some of the weight drop from her sister's shoulders. Anna gave her a watery but sincere smile, and some weight lifted from her own shoulders. "Anna, there is nothing you can do that I wouldn't forgive you for. You mean more to me than anything in the world."
Anna's smile widened. Then she winced, like she was just remembering something.
"What is it?"
Anna shifted anxiously, her face twisting into a deep frown. She took a deep breath and when she spoke, her words came uncharacteristically slow, like she was choosing them carefully. "You might not feel that way when . . . uh, when you find out what happened while you were here in Hasvik."
Elsa's gut clenched, and this time it had nothing to do with withdrawal symptoms. "Malthe seemed hesitant to tell me what happened when I asked him before." Anna refused to meet her gaze, and Elsa felt her pulse quicken, her mind running through the possibilities of what could have happened that would cause such a reaction in both her sister and her physician, but she came up distressingly empty handed. "Anna," she asked finally, "what did you do?"
The silence that had fallen over the room felt like a physical presence that had entered as soon as Admiral Naismith finished speaking. It was so quiet, Anna could hear the blood thrumming in her head, could hear the faint thump of her pulse. She had never experienced a silence quite like this, overpowering and vaguely threatening, but she could handle it. She could stand this intrusive sort of quiet, if only Elsa would look at her.
Elsa had gently but firmly requested the presence of Naismith, Jogeir, Malthe, and herself, going as far as threatening to get out of bed and find them herself if she needed to. As much as Anna wanted, she knew they could no longer avoid this. Her sister wouldn't stand to be ignorant of events that had occurred any longer, and this conversation had been one of the last things standing between them and home. Departing Hasvik was something Anna was equally desperate to get underway as soon as possible.
Her sister was sitting up in bed, propped against a mountain of pillows. Her broken arm was tucked close to her side and her other arm draped over her lap. At first glance, she might appear relaxed, but Anna knew better, and could see how her fingers were tightly wound in the ill-fitting shirt she wore, and how her gaze was fixed on the blanket pooled around her lap. Elsa hadn't said a word since the meeting began, and the deeper they delved into what had happened, the higher the walls around her sister rose and the further she withdrew. Her face was pale except for the red blotches on her cheeks, and her breaths slow and controlled.
"Your Majesty," Naismith said in a low tone, "if there had been any other choice . . ." He took a deep breath. "There isn't a soldier here who wouldn't have been willing to defy a direct order if it meant protecting you. If we had done so and been wrong, I would have no way of protecting those under my command from the fallout. By . . ." He stopped again, pressing his lips into a thin line.
Throughout the duration of the conversation, Anna had noticed how careful all three men had been with their wording. How they told Elsa what the four of them had done, cautiously, and without actually using the word "unfit." It didn't matter—Anna knew her sister, and no matter how they phrased it, there was only one thing that could be running through Elsa's mind.
They had not trusted her judgement, her ability to act as Queen. Even if only for a moment.
"By declaring me. . ." Elsa finally spoke, her voice soft and deliberate. "If you were wrong, then the fault would solely rest with you four." She took a slow, shallow breath. "I understand why you made the decision you did, and I am sorry that it was necessary to make."
Her tone was careful and measured, but Anna was sure she could hear the barest hint of a break at the end. She shifted closer to the bed until her chair bumped against the side of the mattress. She wanted to reach out and comfort her sister but doubted it would be appreciated at the moment, especially with an audience. Instead, she folded her hands on her lap to keep from fidgeting. "Elsa . . ."
"The decision over what to do about the Vindarr and the Sirma won't be made here," Elsa interrupted, pressing her fingers against her forehead. "We will leave a company of soldiers here in Hasvik for the time being. Admiral Naismith, I leave it to you to determine the exact numbers. Erik will return to Arendelle with us to represent his people." She looked up, narrowing her gaze at the Captain and Admiral. "I assume you have not yet located Markkus?"
"No, ma'am," Jogeir answered. "It would seem that once the fighting began, he abandoned his own people to their fates."
Elsa's face scrunched up. "The Vindarr aren't his people."
Anna drew her head back. "But he is their leader. Or was," she amended, "before he turned tail."
"He's been their leader for about twenty years," Elsa said wearily, "but he came from somewhere else. I don't know the full story, but I do know he's not Vindarr. Not that it matters now. Markkus spoke a few times of a council that he answered to. If they do exist, then we need to identify their members and allow them to decide on a representative for the Vindarr. If they don't, I'm sure they have a system in place so they are not without some kind of leadership." A wince crossed her face, and she wrapped her arm across her middle, taking a few deep breaths before continuing. "They will come to Arendelle," she went on. "They will be given a chance to answer for the part their people played, and the fates of their people will be determined."
Anna watched in near fascination as her sister spoke, relaying her orders, the ever calm and collected Queen of Arendelle. And Anna almost bought it. If she hadn't spent the weeks following Elsa's discovery of Asia's fate, watching her sister carefully, she might have missed the subtle tells. Those faint cracks in Elsa's mask that told her that her sister was barely keeping everything together, that under the regal mask and even tone, there was a violent storm brewing.
"Yes, ma'am," Admiral Naismith said, tipping his head forward in a quick bow. Malthe and Jogeir followed suit, and all three men filed out of the room.
Anna winced, realizing she had missed the end of the discussion. It wasn't nearly the first time she had zoned out during a meeting, and if there was anything she had needed to know, she was sure to find out.
She turned to her sister, her throat constricting as she saw Elsa's head bowed, her chin practically resting against her chest as the fingers of her left hand held the blanket in a white-knuckled grip.
Anna leaned forward, placing a hand on her sister's forearm. "Elsa?"
Elsa startled, her head snapping up before she quickly looked away.
"Elsa, I'm so sorry—"
"Don't be," Elsa cut her off. "You did exactly what you were supposed to. I'm proud of you. Really. I can't imagine it was an easy decision to make."
Anna chewed on her bottom lip. Elsa sounded sincere, though her voice was thick, and she wouldn't look at her. The whole thing felt eerily reminiscent of that night in her private study. Elsa was only blaming herself for what had happened, just as Anna knew she would. Her sister's penchant for self-destruction was bordering on legendary.
"Elsa. . ."
"I'm tired." Elsa's gaze flicked up to Anna's for only a moment before shifting to the large window, outside of which the sun was slowly setting. "Why don't you go and get something to eat? I'll be fine."
Her words weren't unexpected. Anna had had no delusions about how her sister would take the news of what they had done, but that didn't leave her any less scared. Elsa's default move was to withdraw and shut herself off, and Anna knew she would have to give her sister the space she needed to come to terms with everything that happened over the last two months. Even knowing that, she didn't want her sister to try to deal with this alone.
She moved to sit on the edge of the bed, reluctant to give up so easily. "Elsa, this isn't your fault. Markkus drugged you—"
"Please?" Elsa said, meeting her eyes.
Anna stilled under her sister's imploring gaze. It was the same raw look she'd given her that night, the same pleading tone she'd used when begging Anna not to push her. That night, Anna had ignored her, had pushed her, and had accomplished nothing but hurting her sister more. She couldn't do that again.
Anna sighed, though her heart cracked. She reached forward and brushed a stray hair from her sister's face, tucking it behind her ear. "Okay," she breathed, then stood and moved to the door. She paused with a hand on the doorframe. "Do you want anything?"
Elsa shook her head. "No, thank you." Her voice soft and thick. "Just wanna sleep."
"All right, I'll be back later to check on you." Anna waited there on the threshold for a moment, and while her sister said nothing in return, she took it as silent permission to come back before too much time had passed.
Elsa waited until she heard the soft click of the door closing behind her sister, until she was completely alone. Only then did her breath hitch painfully in her chest as her mind stumbled over the conversation that had just taken place. The implications of what had happened, of what might still happen when her council found out. When the people found out.
She knew she didn't have to tell the people of Arendelle every little detail about what had happened to her; she wasn't required to tell them anything. Nor was she required to tell the council, for that matter, but if she tried to hide it, they would no doubt accuse her of keeping secrets. She didn't answer to the council, but Jogeir did, and Naismith did, and once they got the report of what happened, it would only be a matter of time before everyone knew.
Elsa squeezed her eyes shut and drew her legs close to her chest, using the sharp, painful protest from her injured sides to ground herself. She pressed a hand to her forehead and pulled in slow, controlled breaths. She needed to think. They would use this against her. Not everyone, but those who had wanted her gone from the moment her magic had been revealed. Those who felt her existence was a danger to Arendelle.
Admiral Naismith had always been a firm supporter of hers, but he had known about her magic since she was a baby. There were others, members of her own council who remained on the fence about her magic.
Bishop Toft had never explicitly spoken out against her magic, but growing up she hadn't been allowed to write with her left hand, because it was unnatural. He was a deeply religious man, and she was an abomination, her very existence bringing into question long-held beliefs he would not need to question if she wasn't there. She wouldn't blame him.
Gregar Alfson, her advisor for international affairs, seemed unbothered by her magic as long as she could control it. This entire ordeal just proved that not only could she not control her magic, but she couldn't control herself when it came to her magic. What had happened here could expose a glaring weakness to the world at large.
Judge Westberg seemed to be her strongest support aside from the Admiral. He was a fair man, but he was always logical, and that could work both for and against her.
Her treasurer Halstein Dal wasn't a worry by himself, but he had close ties to Bjarke Ericson, the advisor of trades and guilds, who was not a fan. The man had never been so bold as to say anything disrespectful to her, but she'd heard through others that he had strongly supported her stepping down when her magic was first revealed. He was apparently the one who had brought up the concern about any children of hers possessing magic.
He would use this to his advantage, and Halstein Dal would follow in his shadow. Ericson was a calculating man, and she knew he could appeal to Judge Westberg. If he convinced Alfson as well, then her only support would be in Admiral Naismith. It wasn't enough.
Even if Ericson could not sway Westberg or Alfson to his side, she had no doubt he'd still find a way to use this to his advantage and force her to step down.
Elsa was concerned for Anna. Her sister would never agree to force her hand, but people only needed a figurehead to rally behind, they didn't need that person to be compliant. There had been instances in the past, in other countries, uprisings in the name of a person who had nothing to do with the radical parties. Elsa couldn't risk that happening, couldn't take a chance that they'd try to turn her and Anna against each other. It wouldn't work, but people could still get hurt or killed in the crossfire.
She wasn't willing to give everything up without a fight, but Elsa would not allow innocent blood to be spilt in a power struggle over her magic just so she could hold on to her throne. Despite this, she wasn't sure it mattered in the end. Arendelle would be better off without her magic—she had no delusions about that.
She knew what had to be done. If the council asked for her abdication, her only choice was to go peacefully. Afterward, though, well, she didn't know whether she would be able to remain in Arendelle. Her existence would always be seen as a threat to Anna's rule by her enemies, as something to exploit. But, at the same time, her staying nearby meant those that felt threatened by her could keep an eye on her, control her, know she wasn't conspiring to take back the throne. She would be okay with that. Even if she were confined to a single wing in the castle or locked in her room. She had spent thirteen years of her life living that way, and if it meant she could still see and spend time with her sister, then it was a sacrifice she was willing to make.
Of course, this was all just speculation; what ifs and potential scenarios. She did not know what might happen. There was always a chance the council would not ask her to step down, that they would . . . What? Elsa thought bitterly. See that their magic wielding Queen had allowed herself to be captured, drugged, and influenced by someone else, and just shrug it off?
She was no fool. Worst-case scenario, they would demand her head as a way to make sure nothing like this would ever happen again. Death was the solution to all problems; no man, no problem. Best-case scenario, they would allow her to remain Queen, though she doubted it would be that easy. Most likely, they were going to ask for her abdication. Her magic was the reason she and her sister had been attacked and captured, and why the Sirma had entered their land. It was her fault this had happened.
Then she had been drugged and manipulated, her judgement compromised to the point that those close to her had to step in and fix the situation.
She needed to prepare for all likely scenarios. It was the smart thing to do. It's what her father would do. Not that he would have ever made a mistake this big. She had made her bed, and she would prepare for what was to come. That was for the morning, though. Tonight, she would just let herself be. Mourn her loss, her failures.
Elsa struggled to breathe around the constricting feeling in her chest, tears cutting icy tracks against her hot skin. She pressed her hand against her mouth as a sob tore from her chest. "I'm sorry, father," she whispered into the growing darkness. "I tried, but I wasn't strong enough."
Anna paced back and forth in the hallway, wringing her hands in front of her and trying to remind herself that she needed to give Elsa some room, some space. It had only been thirty minutes since she left her sister alone. Anna had tried to eat something, but one look at what she assumed was a very delicious meal and her stomach immediately turned sour. She had shoved the food to the side, opting for a short walk to burn off the nervous energy, but her feet only brought her back to her sister's closed door.
She couldn't shake the image of her sister's sorrowful expression from her mind. Elsa needs space, she reminded herself. She has to deal with this in her own way. Anna couldn't push her sister, especially when there was so much that she had to deal with. One of these things alone would have been enough to bring a person to their knees. Elsa was trying to deal with it all, and would do it while going through withdrawal and running a kingdom.
Anna halted her pacing and looked at the closed door. This was ridiculous. She wasn't going to let Elsa bear the brunt of this alone. She'd give her sister space, let her deal with this her way, but that didn't mean Elsa had to be physically alone to do it.
Anna took a step forward, placing her hand on the doorknob and taking a deep breath. The worst that could happen was Elsa would ask her to leave, again. She tried to calm thudding in her chest as she turned the doorknob and stuck her head into the room.
Elsa was still sitting up in bed with her knees drawn tight to her chest. At first, nothing seemed out of sorts. Then Anna heard muffled crying. It was quiet, and so full of sorrow that she felt her heart go out to her sister, who had been through so much, and still had so far to go. Things would only get harder from here, and she desperately wanted to protect her sister from it all. It seemed so unfair that Elsa could protect her, but Anna was helpless to return the favor.
She stepped fully into the room and shut the door softly, then silently crawled into the bed next to her sister. She wrapped her arms around her, mindful of the numerous injuries. For the first time, Elsa offered no resistance, only turned into Anna's embrace and buried her face against her shoulder. Her sister's breath jumped painfully around her quiet sobs, and Anna tightened her hold, pressing her lips to the top of Elsa's head and brushing her fingers through her long hair.