Content warning for mild violence/domestic violence in this chapter.
Thanks to those who have read and favourited. While I obviously have my own inpsiration for this story, I also want to please my readers so I'm keen to know how people feel about this story and where it's going. If it's getting too dark, or if you like the angst, what you hope to see, what keeps you reading etc. It's really easy to zoom in when you're deep in a story and lose perspective. But this is such a lovely fandom and I'm writing this for the fandom, so, if anyone felt like giving me any feedback in a review I would be very grateful!

Perhaps Anna was a fool, but she really hadn't realised Hans would be sitting in on all the council meetings straight away, voicing his opinions like he suddenly owned the place. She'd thought his role was to be more symbolic. A figurehead. To stand beside her, look pretty, and embody the traditional family unit. Smile, wave, and when the time came, father her children. Though hopefully, there would be plenty of time before she even had to think about something so unspeakably gross.

He had proposed, and most of the council agreed, that they send in exactly twenty Tyr class corvettes and ten frigates, to guard the strait alongside seven other kingdoms and five small principalities, all dedicated to nipping the alliance in the bud before it got a taste of imperialism. It wasn't a declaration of war, as of yet. Just a clear display of boundaries. Anna hoped it would be enough. Wartime was so unpleasant. Bleak, tense, and so expensive. Plus, she intended to visit her favourite cousin in the summer over in Hanover, and that wouldn't be possible if the North Sea became a battle-zone.

It was more than the other mid-sized kingdoms were sending, but only about a quarter of their full naval force, and they were keeping the new twenty-gun Njordsterns close to home, which was a relief. Anything more bold and Admiral Brage's head might have popped. He would have dissented and Anna's father would have had to stand by him and the Royal Navy's other patrons. And then she would have had to agree with her father of course, but would Hans have understood that? Would he have punished her for it later? She just didn't need to worry about these kinds of questions when her sense of where she truly stood had been so challenged in the past week, and she still hadn't fully processed the way he'd turned so cold in the carriage the other day.

And how it had left her so shaken inside.

She couldn't afford to lose her grounding like that in front of the council. Couldn't afford to look weak. Even moreso, she couldn't afford to feel weak.

II

Anna entered her room to what was fast becoming a familiar site. Elsa and Gerda sitting at her desk having a little tea party. Laughing away and eating biscuits like a couple of noble ladies out for brunch.

Most servants would have jumped up, skittish and shame-faced, apologised and insisted they were just dusting, or putting away some laundry, or clearing the lunch tray. As though it was such a horrible crime to take a moment out of their busy, busy lives just to exist and enjoy life's small pleasures. They only meant to show respect, but it always stressed Anna out, a little bit. How could she relax if the people around her weren't relaxed?

Anna threw herself onto her bed, sinking into the comfort of the mattress and the clean, smooth sheets, and started pulling the ribbons and pins out of her hair, letting it fall free from the tight bun. It had been braided too tight that morning and had been pulling painfully on the base of her skull all day. The squishy, soothing bed seemed to pull her down like quicksand. She didn't think she could pull herself back up ever again. 'Please tell me one of you brought wine.'

'Pinot Noir?' Elsa asked.

'Mmm,' Well, perhaps for a glass of Pinot Noir she could pull herself back up, cumbersomely, into a sitting position. Elsa was pouring wine into a sturdy metal cup - not a flimsy, breakable glass goblet. 'Oh, you sure are a fast learner, Elsa. I can't remember how I ever managed without you.'

Elsa positively glowed as she brought the cup over, carefully handed it to Anna, and sat next to her on the bed, collecting up hairpins and ribbons that were scattered around. She hid it well, but she was highly responsive to approval and praise. Everyone was, deep down. Anna had dealt with enough blank faced servants, maids, doormen and the like to be able to see through a mask of deference. Everybody wanted to be told they were doing a good job.

Gerda, however, barely bothered to hide her look of concern and borderline disapproval.

Whatever.

If Anna was old enough to be married off, then she was old enough to drink as she pleased to cope with that fact. She took a sip.

'Don't judge me, Gerda.'

'Oh, child,' Gerda stood up and gathered the empty plates and cups onto the tray. 'I'm only ever looking out for your health and happiness.'

'It's been a rough day, okay?'

'Yes, yes, I know. It's hard being a princess, isn't it?'

Anna had the distinct feeling she was being made the butt of a joke, but she decided to roll with it. 'Yeah, sometimes.'

Gerda smiled as she saw herself out of the room, 'But you do such a good job of it, my dear.'

Everybody wanted to be told they were doing a good job.

The door clicked shut and the two girls sat in comfortable silence, side by side on the bed, for a good while. Anna sipped on her wine. Elsa seemed content to just contemplate whatever it was that filled her pale, mysterious head.

Elsa broke the silence, 'Sorry that your tea's gone cold. You were later than we expected. Did you have surprise guests at dinner?'

'No.' Anna sighed, 'Just me and my parents.'

'Ah.'

'I tried to bring up something that happened the other day but…'

Why was she telling Elsa this? What good would come of it? After all, if her parents thought she was just being overdramatic about Hans' outburst in the carriage - simply "making up any excuse to resist tradition" as they'd said - then perhaps Elsa would agree. After all, she'd faced legitimate violence, lived under the constant threat of death. She'd probably think Anna was weak and spoiled and pathetic.

And yet...Anna found she couldn't help herself. In the quiet and gentle presence, where she had never yet found judgement or dismissiveness, she sought some kind of confirmation that she wasn't alone.

'Did your parents ever fight?'

Elsa took a deep breath and narrowed her eyes. 'Yes.'

'Did they ever fight about you?'

'Yes. Often. It's an awful feeling. I'm sorry you have to go through that.'

Anna tried to imagine how the simple fishing folk might have reacted to the realisation that their daughter had such a gift. Or curse, depending on how you looked at it. Elsa had mentioned that they had many children, very little money, and were deeply superstitious.

'When did your parents first notice that you were different?'

'It wasn't them who noticed. They were too busy to notice much at all. It was the Baroness.'

'The Baroness? What Baroness? Would I know her? I thought your family were just poor fish people!'

Poor fish people. That sounded less insulting in Anna's head. Would she ever learn?

'They are poor fish people.' Elsa chuckled, evidently unphased. 'The Baroness of Hammekove. And no, I doubt you'd know her. She made a point of not getting to know people. Especially other nobles.'

'Yeah, I don't blame her. We're an awful lot. But this is a story I really have to hear.'

'Well…' Elsa settled into the bed, smiling softly. Her eyes drifted upwards, sideways, the way people's eyes did when they were reaching way deep into their brain for old memories. 'There was an old Baroness in our town. Lady Sherington.'

'Sherington? What kind of name is that?'

'English. She moved to Trosgarl to marry the Baron of Hammekove. After he died, she moved to our poor little fish town. Only the gods know why - It's an absolute hovel. Grey and dreary and it always stinks of rotting fish guts. I guess she liked the solitude. She was a recluse. Very disagreeable, always firing her staff. And she had no descendents or heirs.'

'She didn't have any children?'

'Seven. But they all died in infancy.'

'I guess that's why she was so grumpy, huh?'

Elsa nodded, 'I'd say so. She particularly hated children, unfortunately for the town's children who loved to play in the stream behind her property. But for whatever unknown reason, she took a liking to me. I think, perhaps, she felt like an outsider and... she sensed the same in me. So anyway, my parents had me work for her. Sort of like a personal attendant. It brought a few coins into the household, but really they had this fantasy that she might grow fond of me and leave me a gift in her will.'

'And did she? Leave you anything?'

'We didn't stay long enough to find out. But she taught me to read. And that kind of gift, well, it's worth far more than any money. Wouldn't you agree?'

'I guess,' Anna had to think about that for a moment. She had never really had to think about what was more valuable, having been born with the privilege of both a fine education and a generous monetary inheritance. 'So that's where you learnt your good manners.'

'Yes.'

'Did you ever write to her?'

Elsa shook her head. 'I thought about it. But I wouldn't want to put her in danger by association. The whole region wants my head on a platter.'

The door clicked open. Odd. Gerda usually didn't come back after tea. Most probably she was here to take the rest of the wine away. Anna rolled her eyes.

'Well, well, well.' Only it wasn't Gerda. Hans stood in the doorway with his hands on his hips, looking pleased with himself. Far too much amusement in his voice. 'What do we have here?'

Anna gasped and instinctively reached over to grip Elsa's hand. She tried just as quickly to move it away again, but found soft fingers clasped tightly around her own.

Hans stared at the two of them, and Anna just stared back, startled, until she realised she was actually annoyed. 'Hasn't anyone ever told you it's incredibly rude to enter a lady's room uninvited?'

'Hasn't anyone ever taught you to use a lock?'

'I shouldn't have to!' Her voice sounded less authoritative than she'd hoped. 'You should know better!'

'Calm down, now.' Hans rolled his eyes, 'There's no need to get hysterical. I'm not the scary monster one here.'

He moved over to Elsa, whose hand was trembling in Anna's own, and bent over so his face was inches from hers. Not that Elsa would see. She kept her eyes fixed on the ground. Reaching for her chin, he lifted it and gave her a piercing stare, gleeful fascination written in his little smile. 'Well, I must say I was expecting something a little more intimidating. You're just like an ordinary girl.'

'I told you, she-'

'Oh, do shut up, Anna.' He yanked at the collar of Elsa's blouse, 'get up.'

Elsa did as she was told.

'What's your name?'

Silence.

'Have you been on the battlefield yet?'

Silence again.

'What's the matter with you?' Irritation rose in his voice, 'Cat got your tongue?'

Elsa stared straight through him, face as blank as fresh parchment. She didn't even open her mouth to speak. Whether it was terror that kept her quiet, or just stubbornness, a last ditch stand for her own agency, it gave Anna quiet satisfaction to see Hans not getting what he wanted.

'Of course she hasn't been in a battle.' Anna said, 'Don't you think we would have heard about it?'

'Don't patronise me, Anna.' He turned back to Elsa, 'No matter. There's a first time for everything. War is an art. You'll come to love it, I'm sure. Now…' He grabbed her wrist with both hands and pulled it toward himself, palm upwards, prying her fingers open, 'Show me the magic.'

A stillness settled over the room, so quiet Anna could hear her own heartbeat. The clock ticking seemed to echo, anticipation building with each dilated second. Anna felt a shiver down her spine. She hadn't actually seen Elsa's magic yet. Or any magic, for that matter. It was one of those things, like an assassination or the coming of a prophet. You knew they happened, but you kind of always expected they happened only in the lives of other, distant people. She guiltily noted that she was shivering all over now, goosebumps rising on her arms. Despite how she despised Hans' general bullying approach, she was apparently excited to see the magic.

Wait. No. She was shivering from a chill. The temperature of the room had dropped, as though someone had opened a window and let in a winter draft.

Slowly, swirling tendrils of shiny white ice began to form on Elsa's forcibly outstretched hand, looping and swirling over each other. Tiny snowflakes crackled and popped into existence, materialising out of thin air, covering her hand in a white, glistening layer of snow.

Hans looked over at Anna, his face softened in awe, both their breath rhythmically turning to steam in the chilly room. The hostilities, resentments, power plays all temporarily suspended in this brief moment of shared reverence.

As soon as it began, it was over. The snow disappeared, the bite of the cold faded and the room temperature began to rise.

'That's all you can sustain, currently?' Hans asked.

'I'm sorry sir,' Elsa said, 'with the anti-magic device it's difficult even-'

'It's "My Lord" to you, not "sir." And yes, I'm familiar with these devices. Let me see it.'

Elsa unfastened the buttons at her wrist and rolled her sleeve up, hands still shaking ever so slightly, until the dull metal cuff with its small grey crystals glinted in the candlelight. Hans reached for the cuff and began twisting and pulling, trying to slide it off.

'Please, stop!' Elsa yelped as he yanked at it, 'It doesn't come off like that! You can't pull it off!'

'It will!' he insisted.

'It won't! Please, it hurts!'

'Just stay still,' Hans pushed her against the bedpost, one hand pressed against her upper chest just under her neck, the other gripping the amulet, and he yanked again with all his might. Teeth gritted together, a vein bulging on his forehead. His fingers dug in under the edges of the cuff, drawing a small trickle of blood.

Elsa dared not scream, but an awful high pitched pain-sound was garbled in her throat, suppressed.

'Stop it!' Anna couldn't bear it. 'Don't you think she's tried pulling at it?'

Hans didn't stop. He pushed Elsa onto the bed, placed one knee over her upper chest and yanked again with both hands, so hard it looked like he might rip her whole arm off at the shoulder. Like a chicken wing at a banquet. Elsa had gone limp now. Surrendered. Her eyes had that glazed, unfocused look Anna had seen in the eyes of soldiers who were never quite right again after a battle.

Anna jumped up and grabbed at his shoulders from behind, trying desperately to pull him away. 'Stop it! Stop it, you're hurting her!' She grabbed his hands and tried to pry them off Elsa's elbow where blood was pooling under the cuff, 'Why are you doing this? It's magic, you freaking idiot, you can't just pull it off!'

Hans let go, turned around swiftly, and slapped Anna across the cheek.

It happened so fast, she could barely process it. For a few seconds she felt nothing. Only shock. Then the pain spilled across her face, throbbing and hot and worse every second. Her eyes watered. Her throat was swelling with a lump of tears but she wouldn't let them fall. Not yet.

'Don't you ever speak to me like that.'

Anna just nodded. She didn't try to speak because she knew only sobs would come out.

'And you,' He turned to Elsa, 'Do you need both hands for your sorcery?'

Elsa looked up at him, dazed and shaken, looking quite unsure what she had just witnessed.

'Well?'

'Uh, y-yes? Yes, my lord.' She stammered, 'I-I do.'

Hans strutted toward the doorway like he'd just won a game of chess, 'I see you aren't gifted in lying as you are in magic.' He shook his head and smirked, 'What a pity. For you.'

The door clicked shut.

Anna's hands were shaking so badly she could barely pick up the key, struggling to turn it in the lock until she heard it latch closed. She jiggled the door handle violently, making sure it was well and truly impenetrable before slowly moving back to the bed and taking a sip of her wine with shaky hands.

Elsa reached over, wordlessly, and placed her hand over Anna's. They sat like that for a while. At least twenty minutes. Until Anna turned and held out the wine, 'Are you sure you don't want some?'

For the first time, Elsa accepted. She accepted quite heartily. She drank the rest of the cup.

The sting was fading from Anna's cheek, leaving behind a dull ache. She reached up with her palm and felt the heat radiating from where she'd been struck. 'Do you think this will bruise?'

'Probably not.' Elsa said, 'But let's ice it, just in case.' She reached up and pressed her hand, coated in a thin layer of soft snow, against Anna's cheek. The cool relief was instant and soothing and Anna leaned into it and soon she found tears flowing down her cheeks, and then deep, violent sobs wracking her body.

Elsa pulled back the covers and guided a limp, defeated Anna down into the bed, wrapping her arms around her, pulling the blankets back up. Anna pressed her head into the crook of Elsa's neck, still crying, but not so violently now. More like a soft, delicate, weeping. Much more becomming for a princess. 'I'm so sorry,' she said, 'I thought you'd be safe here.'

'Shhhhh. I'm fine.' Elsa whispered, 'Don't you worry about me.'

Anna found her shock and despair fading into a melancholy sort of comfort, in the arms of Arendelle's innocent prisoner, pressed against the soft, warm, sweet smelling body. Somewhere between the circular back rubbing and the periodic ice on her tender cheek, she fell asleep to the soothing words, whispered over and over like a mantra in her ear, 'it's not your fault.'