AN: Um, I got nothing. *offers tissues*
Enjoy. Thank you for the reviews.
Anna took a deep steadying breath. This was not where she wanted to be, stuck in a room with the stuffy old men that made up Arendelle's Council, listening to updates, matters of state that needed attention. She understood this information was important, that the kingdom needed tending to, but she couldn't stop her mind from wandering back to the royal suite, to her sister.
After Elsa had been sick on the ship she was inconsolable, refusing to eat or drink anything. Anna couldn't blame her, but it meant Malthe had no way of giving her something to settle her stomach or help with the pain. After multiple attempts to convince her were met with adamant refusal, the doctor dug through his bag and withdrew the same items he had used when Elsa first woke. A syringe, Anna later learned. He used it to give Elsa the same medication he had then, a sedative so she could at least sleep.
Once Elsa was finally resting, Anna couldn't help but ask if there was a chance her sister could sleep through the roughest parts of her withdrawal. The doctor had regretfully informed her it wasn't possible, for a few different reasons. The technology, and intermuscular injections—though Anna wasn't sure what that meant—were still new, and that meant there was a lot of room for errors. Desperation had driven Malthe to using the first time, a positive outcome allowed him a second time. But he still didn't know whether such injections could have a cumulative effect, and he wasn't fond of using his Queen as a test subject.
The dose was enough though that the physician was confident Elsa would sleep through the rest of the trip, which, thanks to favorable winds, came to an end late that same evening. Elsa was resting as comfortably as possible, but between sweating profusely and being physically sick, the physician was worried about dehydration. Anna spent the rest of the trip giving her slumbering sister small amounts of water, a few drips at a time as often as she could. More than once, Malthe had offered to take over, as did Kristoff but the action felt too personal, like allowing anyone else to do so would violate what little privacy Elsa had left.
So, Anna had spent the rest of the day painstakingly making sure her sister got water. It wasn't much, but it was something, and she was grateful for the chance to do more than sit around and hope Elsa got better. Still, as happy as she was to help, she was drained by the time they made port. She wanted to stay close to her sister and make sure she was okay, but Gerda had intercepted her, making the greatest argument Anna would never remember, and she allowed the older matron to lead her in a different direction. The entire night was hazy, like a watercolor painting. She had a vague memory of Gerda helping her into her quarters but nothing else, except for how bone-weary exhausted she had been.
Anna had woken up sometime around midmorning, groggy, somehow feeling both rested and like she could continue sleeping for the next few months. It took a moment for her sluggish mind to catch up with recent events and remember they were finally home. A relief like she hadn't felt in months washed over her, just from knowing they were home, safe behind the castle walls and guards. Here, Elsa was protected from people like Tyr and Markkus.
Anna had dressed quickly and hurried to her sister's quarters. The room was dark and cool, but not uncomfortably so. She found Gerda there, along with a maid who was pressing a cold cloth against Elsa's forehead.
"She slept through the night," Gerda told her as Anna approached to the bed. There was a painful sadness in the matron's eyes that caused her own chest to tighten. There hadn't been any time to prepare her for Elsa's condition. The report sent ahead had been intentionally vague, saying only that the Queen had been injured. Naismith had told her it was due to security.
"That's good." The maid stood as Anna moved to the other side of the bed, bowing and offering the cool cloth. "Thank you," Anna mumbled.
The bits of dirt and blood that had clung to her sister's blonde strands were gone, methodically cleaned, and her hair pulled away from her face in a tidy braid. There was a lingering scent of soap hanging around her, the fresh scent of a snow-covered forest, similar to the one their mother had once used. Despite the dirt and grime being washed away, and Elsa being dressed in soft, properly-fitting clothing, she didn't look any better. Sweat plastered her bangs to her forehead, and the parts of her face not covered in bruising were flushed red with fever. Elsa's chest jumped with short, labored breaths, and her pulse felt like it was racing.
Anna knew that wasn't a good sign for someone who was doing nothing but sleeping. She dipped the cloth into the icy water on the nightstand. She stayed there, drawing the heat off her sister's brow, until Kai had knocked quietly on the door just before noon. Anna left her sister's side with the hopes it would be something quick, but as she softly shut the door behind her and saw the regret in the steward's eyes, she knew it was anything but.
The council had requested a meeting at Anna's convenience. She considered blowing them off until Elsa was feeling better, but knew she couldn't. Her actions were a direct reflection on her sister, and the last thing Elsa needed was to worry about anything outside of sleeping, eating, and getting better. So, Anna had taken a deep breath and told Kai to gather them, that she was ready now.
Anna didn't know how long they'd been sitting in the council chambers discussing things. She looked around the table, to the Admiral on her left, Judge Westberg next to him, then Bishop Toft. To her right was a seat left empty for Malthe, who would be along soon to give a proper report on the Queen's condition. The next seat down was filled by Gregar, of international affairs, she remembered. Bjarke was next to him, the man who had been so argumentative last time, then the advisor for trades and guilds, and finally Halstein, the treasurer. It hadn't escaped her notice that when most of the advisors spoke, they were keeping things short and to the point, but she wasn't sure whether that was out of respect for her ailing sister or because they would rather be bringing these issues up to Elsa. She was grateful for it, either way.
Currently, Judge Westberg was going over a list of documents that would require the Queen's signature once she was feeling up to it, going as far as splitting them into categories based on their urgency. If the documents weren't signed by the Queen within the next week or so, it would fall to the Queen's Reagent. Anna nodded, knowing they couldn't expect the people of Arendelle to put their lives on hold any longer than they already had. Even so, signing anything that was meant for Elsa felt wrong. Just as the judge was finishing up, the chamber door opened and Malthe walked in. The man looked drawn and tired, more so than he had that morning. Anna's concern spiked and she shifted in her seat, wanting to ask about her sister, but she forced herself to stay seated. If something had happened, they would have sent for her.
Malthe bowed, then nodded to the rest of the group before taking a seat. There was a sudden tension in the room as everyone waited for his report. Malthe took a deep breath. "I wish I had better news," he said. "As you all know, there was an altercation between the Queen and the Sirma leader. Unfortunately, the Queen is the only one who knows the exact details of that incident. The only thing we know is that the Sirma leader is dead, and the Queen was seriously injured."
He ran down a quick list of injuries that somehow felt both understated and so much more severe when spoken out loud, one after another and in such a clinical fashion. Several of the advisors went pale; it was clear even in their wildest imaginations they never thought the injuries would be so bad.
"What are her chances?" Bjarke Ericson asked.
Anna frowned, swallowing down a rude comment.
The Bishop gave him a dirty look in her stead. "Tactful, as always."
"Unfortunately, the Queen's condition was complicated during the trip home, when she fell ill. On top of injuries that have only begun to heal . . ." Malthe sighed, scrubbing his hand over his face.
"What can we do?" The Bishop asked softly.
Malthe shook his head. "Not much, I'm afraid. The Queen is strong. If anyone can beat the odds, it's her. But peace and quiet, and bedrest, will be paramount to getting her through this. As such, there will be no visitors, and the number of those tending to her will be limited."
"Seems a bit severe, don't you think?" Gregar asked. "Especially in light of the isolation she endured growing up."
"Her previous isolation was one of the key factors in this decision," Malthe countered.
Anna's frown deepened. Malthe hadn't discussed this with her before now, and she wondered whether it was something he and Elsa had talked about prior to leaving Hasvik. She wasn't surprised to hear her sister would not be receiving visitors, as Elsa didn't need the added stress of trying to entertain. But limiting staff...Anna couldn't see what that had to do with Elsa's previous isolation.
"I'm sorry," she spoke up. "I am in support of this plan, but I don't understand what Elsa being isolated from people before has to do with it."
Malthe turned toward her, his haggard expression softening. "It's quite a complicated topic, but put as simply as possible, we are exposed to illnesses when growing up. We get sick, get better, and our immune system builds up a defense against those illnesses. It's especially important that children are exposed to these illnesses, as their immune system is much more resilient, and it's easier for them to bounce back. The most common route of exposure is through other people.
"Because of the Queen's isolation, she was exposed to precious few illnesses. As such, her immune system has not been able to build a resistance to many common sicknesses. What might be a simple cold or sniffle for us could result in an acute infection for her. In fact, with the gates now open and more personnel moving in and out of the castle than ever, I wouldn't be surprised if the Queen takes ill quite a few times this upcoming year as she becomes increasingly exposed to common illnesses. But the Queen and I have already talked extensively about this. For now, she has agreed to restrict visitors and staff. A secondary infection on top of what she is already fighting would not be good."
"If we are going to be without the Queen for some time still, then we need to discuss the Queen's Regent," Bjarke said, his face twisting in a frown.
"The Regent is Princess Anna," Bishop Toft said. "The Queen named her as such months ago."
"The Regent is meant to be at least twenty-one years of age," Bjarke insisted. "She's only eighteen."
"She is sitting right here," Anna interjected, her cheeks flushing with annoyance.
Bjarke held out a hand. "Forgive me, Your Highness, I mean no disrespect. But there are rules in place for a reason."
"Rules that have been overlooked in the past when the previous Queen and King, god rest their souls, never returned," Naismith said. "Queen Elsa ruled as Regent until she was old enough to be officially crowned."
"The Queen had spent her whole life training to take the throne. While Princess Anna's education is certainly not lacking, it focused on . . . other areas, and is nowhere near on par," Bjarke countered. "The situation is hardly comparable."
"You're right, it's not comparable," Anna cut in, openly glaring at the man. "Elsa is not dead, nor lost at sea. She will be fine. She will recover and resume her duties. I am only assisting in what matters of state can't be put off until she gets better."
"Princess Anna is right," Naismith said. "And the conversation is moot. The Queen has already made other provisions and adjustments to the law while we were in Hasvik." The Admiral pulled a document out of the folder in front of him and slid it across the table toward Bjarke.
The man snatched up the paper, his eyes rapidly devouring the words. "A change this big is supposed to be witnessed by a member of the court. To ensure its legitimacy."
"It was," Naismith replied calmly.
"Really?" Bjarke narrowed his beady eyes. "A member of the court just happened to be that far north of our borders?"
Naismith didn't flinch. He folded his hands on the table in front of him. "Captain Alarik is the first son of Baron Oskar of Valle and thus a member of Her Majesty's court. As you can see—" the Admiral gestured to the paper, "—his signature is there, just below hers."
"She can't do this," Bjarke muttered.
"Actually, she can," the Judge answered sharply. "She is the Queen. And you might want to keep that in mind before you speak."
The man dropped the letter to the table and sat back in his seat. He looked upset but was wise enough to not speak. Anna looked at the letter sitting on the table. She should have known. Her sister, even injured and going through withdrawal, had still managed to stay ten steps ahead of everyone else. She cast a glance around the table and cleared her throat. "Now," she said in an even tone, "if we can return to important matters?"
Elsa fought through the blanket of cotton draped over her brain as she woke from a dream she couldn't remember, one that left her feeling anxious and trapped. She struggled to open her eyes but they felt glued together. When she finally managed to peel them apart, the anxiousness didn't subside. Everything was blurry, her eyes burned uncomfortably, and the room swayed dizzyingly. She briefly wondered if she was still on the ship.
Something was different from the last time she'd been awake and aware—pain, unimpeded by medication, was attacking every inch of her prone body. Elsa squirmed as pins and needles raced through her veins. She wanted to move-she needed to get up. Every moment she laid still was more unbearable, and made the trapped, claustrophobic feeling stronger, until she thought she might burst.
She managed to lift her head from her pillow but almost immediately collapsed back in exhaustion. Her head spun, and her heart fluttered an irregular pattern beneath her sore ribs. She heard a cry of frustration, and realized it had come from her own lips.
A hand laid against her shoulder, probably meant to be gentle but to Elsa's overtaxed nerves the weight was nearly unbearable, the contact too warm and uncomfortable. Her skin felt like it was on fire, and everything touching it was painful. Her chest tightened and her breath hitched, catching in her throat. Elsa gritted her teeth, pressing her head back against the pillow. Everything hurt. Each inhale was a sharp stab in her side and her arm ached fiercely. Her stomach twisted painfully. The worst of it all was the heat burning inside her, like someone had set the marrow of her bones on fire.
Something blessedly cool pressed against the side of her face and Elsa turned into it, desperate to soak up the cold. Desperate for even the smallest escape from the fire threatening to burn her alive. A whimper escaped her chapped lips as it was removed. Someone was talking softly above her, but she couldn't make out the words. Not that she cared what they were saying-she didn't have the energy. She just wanted the cold back.
A second voice joined in, deep and gravelly-a man's voice. The words were muffled, like he was trying to talk to her through a wall of ice. She frowned, blinking at the blurry face hovering next to her bed, trying to figure out what he was saying. He wanted her to drink something, but she didn't want to; her stomach hurt, and she felt dizzy and nauseous. She let her eyes slip shut, hoping the man would get the idea and leave her be, or at least bring back the cold.
Elsa could still hear muttered voices, but couldn't make out what was being said. She was drifting back into a restless doze when she felt hands tuck under her shoulders, and suddenly she was being lifted into an upright position. A hoarse cry escaped her throat as the movement sent shockwaves through her wounded body. Her fingers curled around the heavy blanket pooled at her lap, and she heard a crackle of ice but couldn't feel its cold.
Someone slipped behind her, bringing her weight to rest against them. Elsa let them support her and hold her up. Gentle hands cupped her chin, lifting her head fractionally. The rim of a cup pressed against her lips. She didn't want whatever they were giving her but didn't have the energy to fight them.
It seemed to take forever, the body burning against her back as the contents of the cup were poured into her mouth a tiny bit at a time, giving her a chance to swallow and the bitter liquid to settle before the cup was tipped again. Once they were finally done, she was settled back against the pillows, not quite laying down but not sitting upright either. Elsa didn't mind the position; it was easier to breath this way, and her stomach didn't hurt as badly.
Someone sat next to her and pressed the cold wet cloth against Elsa's face. She moaned and turned into it. The cold was like a lifeline. She had just begun to relax against the touch when her stomach gave a violent twist and her whole body jerked. She gagged and choked, and the hands were back, shoving her upright, this time with more urgency. Her stomach cramped, and she brought back up what little she had drank. She curled forward over a bowl that had been shoved in front of her, each spasm like broken shards of glass ripping through her stomach. They continued long after her stomach was empty. Something soft pressed against her middle, bracing the injuries there. It helped the pain, but not nearly enough.
Just when Elsa thought she might pass out from the pain, it stopped, and she was laid back against the pillows. The cold cloth moved over her superheated skin, but she was unable to take any comfort from it as she struggled to breathe, her chest heaving. Each breath seemed to take more energy than she had to give.
Eventually, her breathing slowed enough that she no longer felt at risk of suffocating. Everything still hurt, if possible even more than when she had first woken. Elsa drifted into a hazy, uneasy doze. Painful images flashed before her eyes, straps biting into her wrists and ankles, then the images shifted to a large, snowy field, a blizzard ripping through the area, and someone begging her for something. To not do something. A sharp crack echoed through the field, jerking her back to wakefulness with a trapped, desperate feeling. The dreams alternated, a new form of torture.
Elsa wasn't sure how long this lasted before the man returned and they tried the drink again. This time they went slower, with less liquid, though it was far more bitter. It didn't matter; the results were the same. Whatever they were having her drink, it came back up only minutes later, hot pain ripping through her gut and threatening to send her over the edge.
She needed the pain to stop-she couldn't do this. She needed her sister. Elsa cracked her eyes open, looking at the blurry figure next to her. She couldn't tell who it was, only that the colors and posture were wrong. It wasn't Anna. A cold, wet drop tracked down her cheek, and Elsa realized she was crying.
Anna walked through the hallways of the castle, anxious to see her sister. The meeting had gone longer than she wanted, but understood they were playing catch up for what had they missed over the last two or so months. It was surreal to realize they had left for Valle at the end of October, and it was now January. Elsa's birthday, Christmas, and then the New Year-their first together in thirteen years-had all come and gone with barely any notice. She was fairly certain that her sister wasn't even aware the dates had passed.
Maybe once Elsa was better they'd do . . . something, maybe celebrate all three, just the two of them. Maybe they could go to the sommerhus. They hadn't been there since before the accident. Anna nodded to herself, a plan forming in her mind. She would have to talk to Kai-it had been so long since they were there the place would likely need to be tidied up. That was okay, because once Elsa was well enough to travel, she would want to return to work as soon as possible, not take a vacation. No matter how hard Anna tried, there was only so much she could do before things escalated to an all-out argument. But maybe when things settled down a bit, returned to normal, she could convince her sister to take a day or two up there. It was only a few hours away by carriage, and less if they rode up themselves. It would be perfect. They could celebrate Elsa's birthday, Christmas, and New Year, just the two of them. She knew she could convince Elsa to go, and if she resisted, then Anna was sure Malthe would back the idea of some rest and relaxation.
A hint of a smile pulled at the corner of Anna's lips, and she felt fractionally lighter as she made her way to her sister's quarters. Then she opened the door, and the smile slipped away immediately as she was faced with the painful reminder that there was still a long way to go before Elsa would be well enough to ride to the sommerhus.
The room was still dim, but now had a bitter cold to it, and mixed with the icy chill in the air was the distinct scent of sick. Anna wrapped her arms around herself and stared at her sister. Elsa laid on the bed curled onto her side, her back toward the door. Gerda sat in front of her, leaning forward and speaking in a low voice, so low Anna couldn't make out what she was saying. She was bundled in a heavy coat, and it only took Anna a few seconds in the frigid room to understand why. Gerda looked up and stood quietly. She crossed the room to the sitting area and grabbed something from the back of the small couch. She met Anna halfway across the room, offering her the thick coat.
"I knew you'd come straight here," Gerda said, "and once here you wouldn't want to leave."
"Thank you," Anna murmured. She slipped on the coat, feeling warmer but no better. "Is this Elsa?" She gestured to the room, the frost forming on the inside of the windows.
Gerda nodded. "The physician said it's likely her magic reacting to her distress, or to the fever. He's worried it's doing more harm than good, though. Even if it isn't on purpose, her magic takes energy. In this case, energy she doesn't have."
Anna looked back to the bed, where her sister had yet to move. "Can she not . . ." She rolled her hand in the air, unable to phrase the question.
Gerda pressed her lips into a thin line as her gaze shifted to the woman in question. "She woke shortly after you left this morning, restless and very agitated. She's been sick to her stomach a few times and. . ." She dragged her hand over her mouth, her eyes glassy with worry and unshed tears.
Anna's breath seemed to freeze in her chest. She swallowed thickly, giving the older woman a moment to collect herself.
"She's been. . . I don't think she is aware of what's going on."
Anna glanced at the window; the sun wasn't yet setting but she knew dinnertime was approaching. "Has she had anything to eat? Or anything for the pain?"
Gerda shook her head. "The physician went to his office to see if he could find something to help with the pain, something to hopefully settle her stomach."
Anna nodded then finally had to give in to her need to check on her sister, covering the space between them in a few short strides. Elsa was curled into a tight ball on her right side, arms was wrapped around her stomach, and her face was tucked into the pillow so only part of her face was visible. Anna knelt beside the bed, reaching out to brush back a few strands of blonde hair.
Elsa's eyelids fluttered, and it might have been Anna's wishful thinking, but she thought her sister relaxed a bit from the touch. Elsa turned her head fractionally, glassy eyes staring at her before Anna could see the spark of recognition.
"Hey," she whispered.
Elsa licked her dry, chapped lips, but before she could say anything her body jerked, and her face folded in pain. She drew her legs up tight, her left hand clumsily wrapping around her calf.
Muscle cramps. Anna remembered the doctor had warned that it was a likely symptom, and that they could get pretty bad. Anna shifted from the floor to the bed, wrapping her hand around her sister's leg and kneading the tense muscle.
Elsa's breath hitched and she turned her face away, pressing it into the pillow, but Anna still heard the muffled cry of pain. Her heart ached for her sister. Anna pressed her fingers against the cramped muscle, massaging it the best she could, until she finally felt it loosen. She let out a slow breath and lifted her hand to rub her own forehead, feeling a headache building behind her eyes. But she ignored it, it was a minor inconvenience. She dropped her hand and turned her attention back to her sister, who had yet to move, or calm down. If anything, she seemed more agitated now than just a few minutes ago.
Anna leaned forward, brushing her hand over her sister's hair. "Hey," she said in a soothing tone. "You're okay."
Elsa shook her head. She dragged her sluggish gaze upward and Anna felt her breath catch in her chest. The raw look in her sister's eyes reminded her of when Elsa first woke, only this was so much worse, because mixed in with the pain and fear was resignation and defeat.
"Elsa—"
"I can't." Elsa's voice was rough, seemingly grating against her throat like sandpaper, and barely louder than a pin drop. Anna had to strain to hear her sister. "I can't do this," Elsa said. "Please make it stop."
Anna gaped. She didn't know what to say, wasn't sure there was anything she could say. Her sister was giving up. Her strong, willful, independent, indestructible sister was throwing in the towel. Anna struggled to keep the last thread of herself from unraveling completely. She couldn't breathe. She felt dizzy, she struggled through the haze. "You'll be okay. You can do this." She tried to keep the tremble out of her voice but failed, just as she failed to keep the tears at bay.
Elsa squeezed her eyes shut. "I can't. I ca—please." Her voice broke, and tears streamed down her face.
"Okay." Anna said softly, smoothing back her sister's hair. "You'll be alright. I'll go talk to Malthe. You'll be okay. I promise."
She continued to run her hand over Elsa's hair, long, soothing strokes, until the older woman's eyes began to grow heavy, and finally drifted shut. Anna stood, careful not to jar the bed, and paused only long enough to make sure Gerda was still in the room. She didn't want her sister to be alone. With steady steps, she walked to the door, shut it behind her with a nod to the guard stationed outside her sister's room, and walked down the hall.
Anna bit her lip as she forced one foot in front of the other, until she turned the corner out of sight of any onlookers. She could no longer hold it in, collapsing against the wall, bursting into tears. She wrapped her arms around herself as she sank to the floor.
Anna wasn't sure how long she sat in the cold, lonely hallway before her tears dried up. It could have been minutes, or hours. All she knew was that exhaustion finally tugged at her mind. But she couldn't sleep, not yet. She had to talk to Malthe. With a hand pressed against the hall, Anna stumbled to her feet, then trudged down the hallway. She wasn't paying attention to where she was going, allowing her feet to guide her in the right direction as her mind raced. She had expected things to get bad for her sister, had known Elsa was in for a rough ride, but she hadn't anticipated that she would spiral so suddenly, so quickly. She hadn't been prepared for the look of utter defeat in her sister's eyes. To see Elsa curled in a ball, crying, begging for some sort of relief. It was too much. Anna couldn't do this. It was a selfish thought and she knew it, but she didn't want to see her sister so broken. There was nothing she could do to help Elsa through this, and that was what hurt the most. Feeling helpless. Being at fault.
Anna stopped walking, looking up to see two guards standing in front of a door just down the hall. She had meant to go to the physician's office, but her feet had led her in a different direction, to the other side of the castle. It took her tired mind a moment to realize that she was standing in the hall opposite the residential wing, as far away from Elsa's quarters as possible. She was standing where they were keeping Erik.
Anna's face hardened. She balls her hands up into fists and marched toward the door. Elsa's suffering wasn't just her fault, it was his.