AN: Suuup. I hope everyone has enjoyed their week. I find the deeper into Microbiology and Anatomy and Physiology I get, the more I realize that I have a fantastic future as a homeless person living under I-25. Got a nice spot off of broadway picked out, I just need to bring my own cardboard box. But it'll be a nice box, I think, maybe something from Gucci or Louis Vitton. Though I'd have to share the box with my cats, and they are jerks, so I'll probably end up sleeping next to the box as they hog all the room inside the cosy compressed paper walls. But they bathe themselves, so at least I won't have to worry about sharing a puddle with them to wash. Glitch would be useless as a hunter, but Aren is young, maybe I could teach him how to hunt? Bring back food for us. Hmmm . . .
Elsa fought against the tides of consciousness. It came and went; she heard snatches of voices, the tenor and lilt tugging at her memory, but before she could put a name to the sound, she was sucked back beneath the waves. Each time she brushed the shores of waking, sensations erupted throughout her slumbering limbs, fiery pain lancing through her face, side, and arm. She shied away from the pain, clinging to the pull of unconsciousness as it swooped back in to grab her. Until the pull didn't return, and she was left in the waking world.
She laid still, with her eyes shut. Everything hurt. Elsa was fairly certain there wasn't a single spot on her entire body that didn't ache in some fashion. Her mouth was dry with an uncomfortable coppery taste that almost made her gag, and her eyes felt full of sand. But her head felt clear, clearer than it had in what felt like a very long time.
She felt a cool hand around her right wrist, and a minor flare of pain caused her to gasp. The hand stopped moving, and a brief silence was followed by "Your Majesty?"
It took her a moment, but she recognized the deep, somewhat gravely timbre of her royal physician, Malthe. She tried opening her eyes, but they felt glued together. Elsa frowned and brought an uncoordinated hand up to her face, a small groan rolling over her tongue as her hand flopped against her cheek. Not quite the graceful presence she usually tried to project, but Malthe was probably the only person still alive that had already seen her at her lowest points. It was doubtful that smacking herself in the face while trying to rub the gunk out of her eyes even registered. She scrubbed her fingers against her eyelids, then slowly pried them open.
Natural light filled the room, and she had to blink a few times before her eyes adjusted enough for the room to come into focus. Malthe sat in a chair at her bedside, a smile creasing his face.
"It's good to see you awake, ma'am," he said as her gaze landed on him. "Though I will admit, you're nearly a day earlier than I was expecting."
Elsa tried to respond, but all that came out was a painful croak. Malthe's smile dropped as he reached just out of her line of sight. When his hand reappeared, he was holding a cup. He helped her sit up, holding the cup to her lips when Elsa's fingers refused to allow her the coordination to do so herself. The water was lukewarm, but was the most magnificent thing she'd ever tasted, and she drank greedily. Or at least she tried; Malthe tipped the cup back and cautioned her with a soft word lest she drink too fast and throw it back up.
Considering the aching burn across her stomach and the sharp spike in her ribs, Elsa was fairly certain that throwing up was the last thing she wanted to do right now. She heeded his warning and drank the water at a much slower pace. Once she had her fill, she laid back against the pillows with a soft sigh, feeling exhausted from just that small bit of exertion. She fought against the sleepy pull, using the pain she felt to ground herself in the world of the living. She had no idea how long she'd been sleeping, but it would have to be enough for now.
Elsa licked her lips as her mind constructed a list of what she needed to know to move forward. There was no questioning the first item on that list. "Anna?"
The smile returned to the man's face. "She stepped out a few minutes ago." He looked up toward the door than back to Elsa. "You should know she has barely left your side this entire time."
Elsa frowned. Worry for her little sister bubbled in her stomach, but she would wait to talk to Anna herself. She knew the girl wouldn't stay away for long. She shifted her gaze, studying the unfamiliar room before looking back to Malthe. "What happened?"
The doctor pressed his lips into a thin line. "What's the last thing you remember?" he asked carefully.
Elsa dropped her gaze to the blankets gathered around her middle and thought back. Her memory was hazy with bits and pieces missing, but she vaguely remembered waking up in a lot of pain. She recalled a foggy conversation with Ray, a stumbled journey through the Keep, then Tyr. "I fought Tyr." She whispered.
That she remembered clearly, like polished crystal. She remembered everything, every sharp glint of ice, the scrape of stone against her back, the sharp snap of bone, the look of horror on Tyr's face as he froze. Elsa swallowed thickly, her mouth suddenly feeling dry. "Nothing after."
Malthe nodded. "Your sister, Kristoff, and Captain Alarik found you in the hall bleeding out and very near death."
"Oh," Elsa responded, at a loss for other words. She remembered being hurt, and how she got hurt, but after that, there was nothing more than snapshots and snatches of voices that had floated into her dreams. "Markkus?"
Malthe shifted in his seat, a frown pulling at lips. "I'm not sure. You'll have to talk to Admiral Naismith and Captain Jogeir, but as far as I'm aware they are still looking for him."
She nodded and set the information to the side, not yet resolved on her thoughts or feelings of the older man. "What happened?" she asked again, this time with a different meaning.
"Your Majesty, that is a complicated answer and if you would permit, might be better told with Naismith, Jogeir, and your sister here."
Elsa pressed her lips into a thin line. She hated having to wait to figure out what she'd missed, hated not having all the available information at her fingertips, but he was right. She needed them here as well to understand the full scope of what happened. She nodded and relaxed back against the bed.
"Ma'am, there is something else we need to discuss." Malthe shifted in his chair. "A great many things, in fact, in which we are waiting on the Princess for, but—" His face twisted as if he was remembering something awful. He sighed, met her gaze steadily. "Do you know who the apothecary here in Hasvik is?"
Elsa shook her head. "I never met him, only heard mention of him once or twice."
Malthe's eyebrows twitched upward. He rubbed his chin. "Interesting. I was down in his lab and . . . the room. I truly hope I am overthinking this, but I have to ask you about it."
On the other side of this door, her sister was resting—or should have been resting. Anna had stepped out when the doctor came to check on Elsa. He had given her the last dose of the sedative late the night before and told her that Elsa was likely to wake up and actually be awake later today. Knowing Elsa the way she did, knowing her sister's resilience, her stubbornness, there was a very strong chance she would wake sooner than expected.
Once she was awake, Malthe hadn't wanted to waste any time talking to Elsa about the drug Markkus had given her. Not that the man was eager to have the conversation, but that he needed Elsa to decide how they were going to approach the withdrawal so he could prepare her, and himself, for what was to come.
Anna was looking forward to her sister waking up, then she realized just what would happen when she did. Hearing that they had drugged her for this past month was bad enough; when Elsa found out that the drug had left her open to manipulation . . . Anna knew how important her mind, her intelligence, was to Elsa. She had no idea how she was going to react to learning she had been manipulated. Whatever her reaction, Anna doubted it was going to be done in a healthy manner. If that wasn't bad enough, because of the drug, she now had to worry about withdrawal symptoms.
The prospect of that conversation made Anna nervous, and worried for her sister. She also knew her sister was going to want to know what had happened, why they came after her. They were going to have to explain it all to Elsa, including how they had declared her unfit so they could go after her. Even knowing that she'd been drugged, that news was going to crush Elsa. They might know now that Elsa had been drugged by Markkus, but they didn't know it then, which meant they hadn't trusted her judgment. No matter how right they had been not to, Elsa was going to see it a different way.
Anna chewed on her thumbnail. She was most worried about delivering that bit of information. She had spent the last few months trying to convince her older sister that she was good enough, that no one thought she was failing, and then they declare her judgment compromised and to be unfit to rule. They did it to save her, to protect the soldiers who would rescue their Queen even against direct order. But the knowledge that it had been necessary—it was going to take a while to recover from that.
In either case, Elsa didn't need the additional weight that Anna was preparing to unload on her. She had been through enough. More than any one person should have to, but at the same time, Anna knew they had no choice. Elsa had to be brought up to speed so that she could decide what to do with the Vindarr and Sirma, so they could finally go home.
Elsa averted her gaze, looking away from the heavy, persistent stare of the physician. She tucked her arms closer to her body, wrapping them around her middle and making herself smaller. She was sitting mostly upright, propped against pillows and swathed in bandages and blankets, but the injuries that had put her there were merely distant annoyances compared to the painful thumping of her heart. Her fingers twisted in her shirt. The ache in her broken arm and ribs, her bruised jaw, the hole in her side—she could handle that pain. The questions Malthe was asking, the scenario he was painting. . . she didn't want to think about that. She couldn't think about that, not right now, not when everything was still so raw.
"I apologize for upsetting you, Your Majesty," Malthe said softly.
"It's fine." Her tone was sharper than she meant it to be, but she was eager to move the conversation to something else, anything else. Before she had a chance to do so, a light knock on the door interrupted them. Elsa turned to the door to see her sister's head poking through, and a smile tugged at her lips.
"You're awake!" Anna exclaimed as she stepped into the room, but her own smile slipped. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Elsa replied automatically.
Anna lifted her eyebrows, cocking her head.
"Relatively speaking," she added.
"Uh-huh." Anna perched on the edge of the bed and wrapped her fingers around Elsa's, squeezing softly. Her sister looked like there were a million things she wanted to say, like she might burst with the thoughts running around in her head, but she shifted her gaze to Malthe and asked, "did you tell her?"
He shook his head. "I was waiting for you, ma'am."
Elsa felt her gut twist in a way that had nothing to do with her injuries. "Tell me what?"
Malthe shifted his chair. "A few days ago, we encountered a young girl here at Hasvik. She seemed rather eager to make sure you were okay, she claimed you were—"
"Ray?" Elsa asked before he could finish his sentence. "Is she okay?" She had worried about the girl since the first blast of cannon fire woke her, though she hadn't been conscious enough until this point to inquire about her, to make sure she hadn't been hurt in the ensuing chaos.
"She's okay, Your Majesty," Malthe reassured her. "She is in a room just down the hall, under guard at Captain Jogeir's orders until we could verify her story."
Elsa nodded, feeling a bit of weight lifting from her shoulders. "She took care of me," she confirmed. "Helped me with anything I needed. Other than Markkus, she was the only person I had regular contact with."
Anna rolled her lips between her teeth, looking like she wanted to make a comment but was trying to refrain.
Elsa wanted her sister to understand, needed her to understand why she had made the choices she did here in Hasvik. "I know what you're thinking and I know it sounds. . . bad to you, but for me, it wasn't any different from . . ." A sharp flare of pain ignited across her ribs, and her face folded in a wince before she could stop it. Both Malthe and Anna moved closer. "I'm fine," she murmured, pressing her left hand against the mattress as she attempted to push herself into a position to ease the pressure in her side and make it easier to breathe.
The physician and her sister moved, adjusting the pillows behind her so she could sit more upright.
Elsa let out a shallow breath and a soft "thank you," then turned her attention back to Malthe as they returned to their seats. "I assume there is more to this than simply verifying Ray's story."
"I'm afraid so, ma'am." Malthe took a moment to collect his thoughts. "It's about the—medicine that Markkus's apothecary had you taking."
Elsa's stomach dropped, and her mind scattered across the different ways his next sentence might go. None of them were good. "What about it?" she asked apprehensively.
"As I mentioned earlier, I was able to see the apothecary's lab. Unfortunately, we have not been able to locate the man, but with Rayna's help I was able to find extensive notes on the drug."
Elsa had known Malthe her entire life. He was usually a confident and assured man, and the more he stalled and beat around the bush, the more Elsa's stomach twisted into knots. He glanced across the bed toward Anna, who responded by folding her fingers around Elsa's once more.
Malthe took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm not sure there is any good way to put this, but according to the notes, the drug was meant to make someone of an otherwise strong will vulnerable to outside influence."
"I don't—" Elsa shook her head, her mind stuttering over his words. "I don't understand."
"Elsa." Anna tugged on her fingers, drawing her attention. "Markkus was manipulating you and using this drug to do it."
"No." She shook her head again. "No, Markkus said the medicine was so the magic here didn't make me sick." Even she knew how weak it sounded, but they had little understanding of magic, of how it interacted with other types of magic. The explanation was just as plausible as anything else.
"Elsa," Anna breathed.
"No," Elsa stated firmly. "I know what you're thinking, but I stopped taking the medicine for a few days and got sick. Once I started taking it again, I was fine."
"Sick, like stomach cramps, fever, dizziness, anxiety, restlessness?"
Elsa nodded numbly.
"Your Majesty, I'm afraid what you experienced was the onset of withdrawal symptoms," Malthe said carefully. "They resolved because you resumed taking it. This drug, blood clover, causes a dependency in addition to its primary function."
Elsa stared at Malthe. Withdrawal. She hadn't even considered the possibility. But it made little sense why Markkus would give her a drug to manipulate her. He had helped her. Showed her how to better control her magic. He hadn't forced her to do anything and hadn't asked for anything in return.
He didn't need to. If Malthe was right than the drug, this blood clover, it was the reason she had felt fuzzy, her thoughts slippery, like trying to hold water in your hands. She assumed she was just tired and stressed. She had been wrong. The drug allowed him to manipulate her, to influence her, and she had taken it willingly, barely questioning it, putting up only a token resistance.
But it made no sense. What had Markkus wanted? Her power? He could have taken that with the cuffs. Her cooperation? He had that and still asked nothing of her. If Tyr had been telling the truth, then Markkus had sent him to kill her. Something which made even less sense.
"Elsa." Anna was suddenly in her face, one hand wrapped around her wrist and the other cupping her cheek.
Elsa jerked her head back, taking in a sharp, painful breath through the tension in her chest.
"Are you okay?" Anna asked softly, a wrinkle between her forehead and a pitiable look on her face.
She leaned back and saw Malthe wearing a similar expression. Anger bubbled up from the looks of pity. Elsa grabbed hold of the feeling, the anger at their pity, at Erik and Tyr for what they put her through, at Markkus for what he did to her, at herself for allowing herself to be used. She let it warm her chest and ignite her blood. Anger was a better option than giving into the cacophony of feelings swirling just below the surface. It was a simple, clean emotion, far easier to mold into a tool.
The emotions swirling under the anger—there would be time for them later. It was quickly becoming painfully clear that she had messed up, in a very big way, but she was still a Queen, and she was going to conduct herself as such. She pulled back from her sister, leaving Anna looking hurt but remaining silent. She sat back, her hand still wrapped around Elsa's fingers.
Elsa clenched her jaw tightly, steeling herself as she returned her attention to her physician. "What happens now?" she asked instead of answering Anna's question.
Malthe shifted in his seat. "I don't believe the drug itself will have any lasting effects, though I believe it would be prudent to talk to someone about what happened to you here. It would make it easier to identify any inaccuracies Markkus may have tried to convince you of."
"I'll take that under advisement," she said diplomatically, though they both knew the chances of such a thing happening were slim.
Malthe nodded. "According to the notes, the withdrawal symptoms can be quite severe. They start approximately two to five days after the last dose."
Elsa shook her head. "I don't know when I last took it." She thought back to when she had woken in pain, the missing days, but struck the thought from her mind. There would time for such dwelling later.
"According to Rayna, the last dose would have been given to you the morning before we arrived, which would put us at about five days now."
Elsa frowned. "But I feel fine." Anna shot her a look, and she rolled her eyes. "I feel fine, relatively speaking."
Anna pressed her lips into a tight line but accepted Elsa's response.
"Five days is only an approximation, and the symptoms won't be sudden. Some may come on quickly, but others will be a slow build, the worst coming roughly two weeks from onset."
Elsa jutted her chin. "Two weeks?" She swallowed thickly. Her heart pounded against her chest as she recalled how she had felt those few days when she stopped taking the drug. That had just been the start of what she would experience? She didn't know if she could do that again, the thought that it could get worse and take weeks to get to that point. Suddenly, she felt lightheaded, the room swimming around her.
"Yes, ma'am."
Elsa's fingers wrapped tightly around Anna's, and she used the cool feeling of her sister's hand to ground herself. Her breath shuttered in her chest. "How bad are we talking?"
Malthe shifted uncomfortably. "That depends, Your Majesty."
"On?"
"The severity of the symptoms will depend on how we choose to treat the withdrawal. The first option, which I don't recommend, is to treat the symptoms themselves as best we can as they appear over the next few weeks. However, you're already trying to heal from some very serious wounds and other injuries, there is a strong possibility that—it's possible the withdrawal could end up being too much for your body to handle."
"I could die?" Elsa asked in a small voice, feeling her sister move closer to her on the bed.
Malthe nodded solemnly. "I'm afraid so."
She clenched her jaw. "And the other option?"
"We can do something to lessen the severity of the symptoms. It would be a longer path to recovery, but far less dangerous and straining on you. I strongly recommend we go this course."
Elsa narrowed her gaze at the man. "What aren't you saying?"
Anna placed her other hand on Elsa's arm. "The second plan involves weaning you off the drug."
Elsa blinked at her sister, her sluggish brain taking a moment to process what she had just said. Her eyes widened as it hit her. "You want to give me more? Something you said makes me—" She snapped her jaw shut, unable to put such a violation into proper words.
"We'd match the first dose to start," Malthe said. "Then the next day—"
"No," Elsa said sharply, shaking her head. "Absolutely not."
"Your Majesty," Malthe started in that tone, the same one that was always followed by some unreasonable request like bedrest or taking time off. "A cold stop from such a drug is a very bad idea, in even the healthiest of patients. Your body has been significantly weakened by not just your injuries, but the stress caused by everything that has happened since you left Valle. There is a very real chance that not weaning off this drug could kill you."
Anna jostled her hand gently, drawing her attention. "Elsa, I know you're scared. I can't even imagine what I'd be feeling in your shoes, but I really think you should do it." She bit her lower lip, then shook her head. "We almost lost you, multiple times, I can't—."
Elsa felt guilt press down on her shoulders. She didn't want to upset her little sister, but this drug—if Malthe was right, if Markkus had lied to her—then there were so many reasons she couldn't allow them to give her any more of it.
"It would only be a few weeks, ma'am."
Elsa tore her gaze away from her sister. "How many weeks?" she finally asked, rolling the logistics of such an action around in her head.
Malthe coughed. "A minimum of eight, ma'am. Possibly longer depending on different factors."
Elsa's eyebrows arched. "You and I have very different ideas of what the word 'few' means." She shook her head. "I'm sorry, but no."
"Elsa, please," Anna pleaded.
"Anna, there are so many reasons I can't do this, even if I wanted to. Knowing that I took this drug while I was here is going to cause enough problems. If I willingly take more of it, knowing what it does . . ." Elsa sighed, feeling exhausted and heavy. "It's not just about the things I might do under the influence of this drug, but what I might be convinced to say or talk about."
"We could keep you secluded," Anna offered. "And only let a few people in to see you until you are weaned off the drug."
"Anna, I said no. That's final."
Anna's shoulders slumped. She looked crestfallen, and Elsa felt horrible for making her feel such a way, but at the same time, she knew she couldn't take this drug again. She couldn't risk it.
"Very well," Malthe said, sighing heavily. "I promise, Your Majesty, I will do everything in my power to get you through this."
Elsa's chest tightened as she felt the weight of her decision, the very real possibility of what was to come.
Malthe sat at a desk next to a large window that looked over the ocean. He squinted in the dim candlelight down at the journal laid open on the desk, making notes. The room he had been set up with here in Hasvik, next to the Queen's own quarters, was adequate, but still left him feeling homesick for Arendelle. If it were up to the Queen, they would be on a ship heading home. After what became a lengthy discussion about the inevitable withdrawal symptoms, she had asked to see Naismith and Jogeir so they could decide the next move. Anna had, understandably, been less than happy with her sister's attempt to work so soon after waking, but instead of arguing she had offered a compromise. Have something to eat first, and then afterward, they would see how Elsa felt.
It had been a smart move on her part, as the Queen could barely stay awake long enough to eat some soup, drifting off shortly after finishing the small meal. The meeting would have to wait for another day. As would the long journey home.
Malthe sighed, gazing out at the tumultuous sea below the Keep. It would only be the first long, difficult journey the young Queen had ahead of her. He knew she was tough, and stubborn, and if anyone could beat the odds it would be her, but even if she made it through the withdrawal, and fully recovered from her injuries, there would be more obstacles. Things she would need to overcome that went far deeper than physical injury. Those were the things Malthe worried about the most.
Between her isolation, her father's mantra of "conceal, don't feel", and her position as leader of a kingdom, Queen Elsa was not one to talk about anything that could be considered a weakness or vulnerability. Because of her magic, and in no small part to her parents' choices in dealing with her magic, all emotions were vulnerabilities, weaknesses.
Queen Elsa was under no obligation to be forthcoming with her thoughts and feelings, or about what she went through these past few months with those around her, but Malthe was worried that she wouldn't confide in anyone. Trauma wasn't something that could be easily buried under work, though he knew the Queen would attempt to do just that, because that's what she was taught. "Conceal, don't feel. Don't let it show." An idea and instinct only made worse by her position as Queen, one that afforded even less room to show weakness. He was well aware that to the people, and to her own staff, she had to put on a show of strength and confidence. She had to ensure their faith in her ability to be Queen was unwavering. Or, at least, as much as it could be.
Malthe had seen enough trauma and pain in the world to know the emotional fallout for both the Queen and her sister would not be easy to deal with. It would take time and lots of patience.
He remained particularly troubled by whatever had happened to the Queen in the apothecary's lab. He'd been surprised when she informed him she had never met the apothecary, nor had she ever been in his lab, and she seemed confused when he mentioned how he found it covered in ice. A spark of hope shot through him then, thinking that maybe the destruction of the lab had nothing to do with Elsa. But there were so many things that, when added up, told a much different story. Her voice was hoarse, her throat still very sore, the abrasions on her arms, her ankles, and across her chest and knees. They had sharp edges, like friction burns caused by pulling against leather straps. There were cuts on both her palms, like she'd dug her fingernails into the soft flesh, straining against some pain. He wanted to convince himself that each of these things had been caused during her fight with Tyr, but they weren't as fresh as the wounds he had treated that night. These were scabbed over, well into healing, meaning they had happened at least a few days prior to that fight.
Separately, these injuries were concerning. Together, they painted a worrisome picture. Malthe had wanted to ask the Queen about what had happened before he jumped to any conclusions, because sometimes things looked far worse than they were, and he had to hold on to that hope.
When he had asked her about the abrasions, the cuts on her palms, that hope died, replaced with a new brand of worry that twisted his gut painfully. It took a moment for her to gather her thoughts, and when she did, the Queen explained, "my father's plan to control my magic was to control my emotions. Markkus felt that the best way to control my magic was to learn how to control it while . . . experiencing those emotions." She swallowed thickly, wrapping her arms around herself. "Some of the training was . . . intense."
Malthe nodded. He could tell that she wasn't lying, but she wasn't quite telling the truth either.
She had been quick to cover it up, but it didn't matter, he saw the look of worried surprise, and it was enough for him to realize she hadn't known about the injuries until he pointed them out. She had no memory or knowledge of them, not how she got them, or what happened in the lab.
He'd heard reports of people who had gone through something so traumatic that their mind locked the memories away in order to protect itself. Malthe scrubbed a hand over his face. "God, child, what did they do to you?"