The Next Unknown
2 - Dive Down Deep
OoOoO
More. There had to be more.
"Your Majesty, the boat is full—we must turn back!"
More space. "No! We can fit one more!"
"He hasn't resurfaced. We don't know if he's still—"
More time. "He was right there! Bring us closer and give me more light."
The water's surface smouldered as a flaming torch rose high behind her. Anna thrust the oar into the water. "Come on, come on… please."
"Your Majesty…"
She shook her head furiously, scattering droplets from her sopping hair. "I saw him! He's just a kid… he must be so scared. We can't just—wait! Hold the light still."
But the torchlight jerked erratically and threw the water back into the black.
Anna nearly screamed in frustration. "I said, hold the—"
Except she didn't come face to face with old Mr. Sandberg, who had a poor reputation for hogging the fishing waters yet had been the first to volunteer his boat when Anna raised the alarm. The torch had been passed down to the woman behind Anna, whose wet hair was matted down over her face so all that was visible were a pair of wide grey eyes sitting above purple lips.
She clutched the torch with both hands, but still she shivered so badly that it zigzagged uncontrollably above her head. "I'm s-s-sorry," she gasped out, teeth chattering. "I c-c-ca… ca…n't…"
Anna stared at the pale faces huddled in the boat, all of them shivering violently. The oar went slack in her white-knuckled grip. "No," she croaked. "I'm sorry… I'm so, so sorry."
This was a boat intended for squirming fish nets and buckets of bait and occasionally a few bottles of akevitt shared between mates. It was never made for leaning over the water to shout Take my hand! or for people to collapse over each other as they heaved and sobbed and curled up.
Wasn't there more she could do?
Anna looked at Mr. Sandberg and gave him a small, defeated nod. He ran a weathered hand over his bald crown and began to turn the boat around.
Splash.
Anna's head jerked up. She scrambled back to the boat's edge and squinted desperately into the water. Several trembling hands helped to steady the woman's torch, holding it higher, casting enough light for Anna to—"I see him. I see him."
The boy had resurfaced, his white face barely visible, too far for the oars to reach. The boat rocked and groaned, moving at glacial speed as Mr. Sandberg wrestled against the tide.
"Stop the boat, Mr. Sandberg. We can't afford to capsize." Anna drew her hair back and wrapped it into a loose knot.
"But Queen Anna, the boy—"
She plunged into the water.
The first person they'd dragged out of the fjord hadn't been responsive. Anna had run for help while Kristoff pumped on the stranger's chest. Not once had she doubted that she would return to the sight of the woman coughing and choking and breathing. Revived.
But Kristoff was still doing compressions. His pained eyes met hers and she stared back uncomprehendingly because none of this made sense. How could there be a woman lying unmoving on the same dock where they had strolled hand in hand just minutes ago?
More screams and shouts echoed in the distance.
Mr. Sandberg protested when she jumped into his boat. But he took one look at her expression and wisely clammed up.
The second person they pulled up passed out after vomiting up an ocean.
The third one hadn't been able to stop crying.
The fourth made it to the boat on his own. He grabbed Anna's ankle and wouldn't let go until he sucked in enough breath to wheeze, "Please… th-there's more."
When he told them exactly how many more, Kristoff had distractedly kissed her brow and made her promise to be careful before swimming back to shore to gather more help. Because there was no time to turn the boat back when that many people were out there.
They needed more help, more boats, more time, more space. But Anna only wished to find more people alive.
OoOoO
She'd been wet and shivering in the wind for so long that the fjord somehow felt warm. It was hard to see, but she'd seen dark before and this was nothing like it. She wasn't sitting helplessly. She was in movement. So she swam.
And then there was the boy and his desperate gasps. His flailing hand caught her in the face as she tried to grab him. "Hey, it's okay—ow, hello—I've got you. I've got you."
"Your Majesty!" Mr. Sandberg shouted. The torchlight had been stretched out as far out as possible, just enough to catch them in its perimeter.
"We're fine!" Anna called back. She smiled down at the boy. "We're fine, aren't we? Here, put your other arm around me. Let's catch our breath first. The boat's going so slow I think we can swim back to shore faster than them. What do you think?"
The boy didn't speak. He didn't give her his other hand, either. His eyes followed her face, but they didn't seem to see her. He was in shock. And he was slipping. Anna had already manoeuvred him onto his back, her arm wrapped across his chest, and was kicking hard enough for the both of them. He shouldn't be this heavy.
"You stuck, buddy? Are your legs caught on something?"
He blinked slowly.
Anna gave him her best grin and tried to stop her teeth from chattering. Maybe not feeling the cold wasn't a good thing. "Don't worry, it's no big deal. Who needs a knight in shining armour when you've got an actual queen, right? We'll have you free in no time."
Something finally flickered in the boy's shadowed eyes.
"What? You think I don't look queenly? Pshh. Are monarchs where you're from friends with a reindeer and a talking snowman? I'll introduce you to them when we're dry. But before that, I'm going to need you to float on your own for a bit longer. I won't let you sink. Do you trust me?"
The boy blinked again. It was like the fear had drained out of him and washed out all other feeling with it. He didn't panic when Anna slowly released him, even though he sank almost immediately, his pale little face struggling to stay above water. Something was definitely dragging him down.
"Good boy," Anna whispered. Then she dived back under, feeling her way down. She found the boy's right arm and tried to give him a reassuring pat only to find it unusually taut. And long.
She swam deeper. Then liquid dread started flowing backwards through her veins and it took everything in her not to scream underwater.
She resurfaced, gasping. The boy latched back onto her neck and she swallowed a rush of water. But she put her arms around him and held him, trying to drown herself in his grief so she wouldn't have to think about what kept brushing against her leg.
It took several restarts before she managed to ask, "Do you want to tell me who that is?"
No response.
"I-Is it your father? Mother? Big sister?"
His dark lips parted slightly.
"Sister?"
A tiny nod.
All she had ever wanted was to keep her sister safe.
Anna swallowed. "Okay," she whispered. "Okay… hey, we don't really know each other yet, huh? I'm Anna. What's your name?"
Silence.
She swept dark strands of hair out of his eyes. "What about your sister's?" she asked softly.
Finally, he looked at her. "… Sofia." His voice was surprisingly steady. Flat.
Anna forced herself to smile back. "We're not going to leave Sofia behind, okay? I'll send people back for her, and once you're safe and dry, you can see her again. I promise. And I promise she hasn't left you, either. Not forever."
She didn't know what awaited beyond the mist, but she wasn't worried because her sister had promised they would do it together.
"You just… belong in different places now. You'll miss her—a lot. And that's okay. Because when you get back up, you're going to hear her voice teaching you how to do the next right thing, and you'll realise someday that she doesn't have to be here to be with you." Anna reached down and found the boy's hand underwater, clutching his sister's in a death grip. "We'll do it together. Okay?"
The boy stared at her, his eyes dark as the sea. At some point, his gaze had gone from vacant to piercing. He was seeing her now, but Anna needed him to listen to her, too. Her legs were starting to burn, and she wasn't sure she could drag the boy back to the boat if she couldn't get him to let go—
He nodded.
She exhaled in relief and squeezed his hand.
And then the whole fjord glowed. Anna clutched the boy to her as water rushed and whipped around them. Then something hard and cold hit them from below and—
The entire fjord had been transformed into good and solid ground. Ice.
Anna's head snapped toward the dock, but droplets of water suspended in the air obscured her vision. They were everywhere—rising from her hair and clothes, appearing as glistening pillars above the boats. It was a rainstorm being pulled back into the heavens.
She was on a shattered ship surrounded by beautiful, terrible marbles of liquid memory, and she wasn't sure she wanted to know what had happened to them.
A great snowflake woke the sky, hanging above Arendelle like an astrological ornament. Then that, too, dispersed like stardust—and all was dry.
Anna didn't know whether to laugh or sob. "That's my sis—" She choked off.
The boy was staring at his sister's body, now sprawled on the ice a short distance away. Sofia lay on her side, thick auburn hair strewn across her face. She was beautiful. She was not sleeping.
There were flecks of snow escaping through her fingers and all she could hear was "I think she may have gone too far."
The boy's gaze went hollow once more. He didn't go to his sister. He didn't look at Anna. Without saying a word, he staggered to his feet and began the long walk towards Arendelle. Not once did he look back.
People rushed from the docks towards those collapsed on the ice. Crowds swarmed around the grounded boats to help the passengers clamber out. Some needed to be carried away. Names were called out in hoarse, desperate cries as survivors searched for their families.
There were many unmoving shapes scattered across the ice.
Distantly, Anna saw one person moving towards her.
She didn't remember rising from the floor. She didn't think of the last time she had raced across this same frozen fjord towards the same person, or the last time she'd blinked away tears, whispering, Is it really you? She didn't look too far ahead. She couldn't.
She just broke it down to the next step, the next breath. And when she threw herself into Elsa's arms, she made the choice to cry.
OoOoO
The queen was pale and red-eyed, her hair a bramble bush. She charged into the council chamber in a disorganised attire of General Mattias's military jacket, a pair of ice slippers, and what seemed to be the only piece of clothing from her own wardrobe: a pair of riding pants.
Without a greeting, a smile, or even the usual stumble on the rug, Queen Anna took her seat at the head of the table. The Snow Queen stood on her right, spotless and poised, but also appearing frayed at the edges. She nodded politely back at the councillors who, unable to gauge the queen's uncharacteristic demeanour, caught her eye instead. But Princess Elsa didn't speak. No one did, for only the queen could open a meeting of the privy council.
A maid entered carrying a tray bearing tea and mugs of hot cocoa for the queen and princess. Queen Anna murmured "Thanks, Gerda" in a hoarse voice. Before she could drink, though, Princess Elsa reached out to touch the mug. There was a faint hiss of steam and Queen Anna smiled wanly up at her sister.
Councillor Iver Belland watched the exchange and thought: children.
The queen's face was hidden for a long time, but when she eventually lowered the mug, her cheeks had regained some colour. So had her eyes. She licked froth from her upper lip, missed a spot, and looked up at her councillors.
Sighing, she said, "Go on, then. Let's hear it."
The room erupted into voices.
"Your Majesty, you could have drowned!"
"You should not have been without your guard, let alone—"
"No one doubts your courage, but your recklessness—"
"What if it had been a trap?"
"What if you couldn't swim?"
"What if the cold had given you frostbite?"
"What if—"
"Okay—but what if I care about not watching people die in front of my eyes?" The queen's impatient snap silenced them. A second later, she seemed to realise the brusqueness of her tone. She drew back as hesitation darted across her face.
Belland and the other councillors had been privy to plenty such moments over the past three months, and so were braced for the next thing Queen Anna would do; something no sensible monarch should do—apologise.
Then she blinked again and surprised them by seeming to sweep the moment aside—no, she fought it. She stared down the table at Mona Roys and said blankly, "'What if I can't swim?' Really?"
Roys flushed. As overseer of the kingdom's education system, she had no doubt forgotten that the queen was not another of her young charges. Roys's position hadn't existed until the first year of Queen Elsa's rule, when the young queen had strode into a meeting with an armful of handwritten notes on the inconsistent learning outcomes, literacy rates, and instructional styles throughout the kingdom. She quoted policies from texts in foreign languages. Then, with a pinch of nervousness, she had constructed an ice model of the school, including scaffoldings of a three-year expansion plan because she wished not only to provide for the children but also grown men and women who had missed out on proper schooling in their youth.
At the end of it all, she had looked up with her sister's same, familiar uncertainty, and said to the councillors' slack-jawed faces, "May I receive your counsel on this matter?"
No one had questioned where she'd found the time to prepare such an elaborate proposal on her own. They had not questioned the accuracy of her architectural models. It was the first time since the accidental winter that none of them had thought to question her.
But today, Belland had noticed her absence at the school's opening ceremony. That, he questioned.
"With all due respect, Your Majesty, we are all well-acquainted with your worrying lack of regard for your own safety." All heads turned to stare at Hakon Erling. He sat at the far end of the table, yet that distance seemed to shrink as he spoke. "But Arendelle looks to its queen, and tonight your actions have me wondering if you have forgotten that queen is now you."
A ring of stunned silence. Then the heads swivelled back to Queen Anna, who blinked like she wasn't sure what had just been said.
Belland heard an almost imperceptible crackle and noticed that steam had stopped rising from his untouched tea. He also saw Erling's eyes flash briefly to the Snow Queen.
Barely a decade older than her, Erling wasn't simply the youngest advisor present—he was the youngest person in Arendellian history to sit on the privy council. None could say he had merely inherited the seat, either, because Hakon had never met his father. He wouldn't have any memories of his father's work, but Belland did. He'd watched the boy grow up and could say without bias that Hakon Erling was a prodigy who had unerringly earned his place as the youngest head of trade and foreign relations.
The only problem was that in the last few months, Erling seemed to think that made him untouchable.
It was Mikkel Davidsen, a mountain bear of a man who defied all expectations of what a treasurer and bookkeeper should look like, who growled, "Erling, you are the one who forgets himself."
Erling's cool gaze switched targets. "What I haven't forgotten is my job. What use does the queen have for an advisor who speaks only what she wants to hear?"
"It is not up to you to presume the queen's wants."
Queen Anna slammed both hands on the table so hard the teacups rattled in their saucers. "Gentlemen! Can we please shelve this debate over my clumsiness till we don't have a flock of refugees shivering on our dock?"
There she is, Belland thought to himself.
For the first time since the meeting began, he spoke up. "We do not know that they are necessarily refugees, Your Majesty."
"We do. They are." Queen Anna grimaced. "We received a… letter. From the king of the Southern Isles—well, the new king."
"King Johan is dead?" Harald Fisker, the minister of agriculture, ran a hand over his salt and pepper beard. "Forgive my callousness, ma'am, but to that I say good riddance. The man was a tyrant."
Princess Elsa motioned to the chamberlain, who drew a crinkled parchment from his jacket and handed it to her. She slid it across the table. "This letter only just arrived, but we think it is safe to assume that King Johan passed away weeks ago. Prince Caleb is now king of the Southern Isles."
"Then surely the bloated bodies of his people in our fjord aren't his idea of inviting our queen to his coronation."
The queen in question flinched. Some of her drink spilled onto the table, which the chamberlain nonchalantly mopped up.
"Fisker, you speak too coarsely," berated Davidsen.
"It's fine," the queen said, with a voice and face that indicated the opposite. "Kristoff and General Mattias are looking after them right now. One of the people we saved—he told me there were six boats."
"That all sank at the same time?" Davidsen said with a raised eyebrow. "Don't we think that rather suspicious?"
"It's a treacherous five-day journey across the North Sea," Princess Elsa pointed out. "These people rowed in overloaded fishing boats with nothing but the clothes on their back. It's a miracle they made it as far as they did."
"Perhaps that is just what they want us to think."
Queen Anna stared at Erling. "Excuse me? There are… people are dead. "
"No one is refuting that, ma'am. I only question—"
She shook her head sharply. "I saw a boy half my age who nearly drowned because he refused to let go of his sister's body. I saw people shivering so badly that it took five of them to hold one torch still. I saw parents holding babies who weren't crying. Why don't you go and ask them what they wanted us to think?"
Erling's eyes narrowed. But he bowed his head in acquiescence.
The queen swallowed and visibly gathered herself. "Look, we can suspect them after we help them. Our first priority is preparing hot food and collecting enough bedrolls that they'll be comfortable in the Great Hall tonight. We can question them once they've had time to recover."
There was a long pause.
Finally, Fisker ventured, "The Great Hall? Your Majesty means to let them into the castle?"
"Of course. We have plenty of space."
Davidsen shifted his great body in his too-small seat. "They are from the Southern Isles, ma'am. With whom we do not have a—"
"Good relationship? Trust me, I know," the queen said dryly. "But the only similarities between these people and Hans are where they came from, and that they both ended up in our fjord at some point. They didn't try to marry me or kill my sister. Why shouldn't we help them?"
"I'm not suggesting that we shouldn't, Your Majesty, but to trust them in the castle? It is not a good image."
Before the queen could shoot back a response, Princess Elsa answered calmly, "If you believe that a kingdom's people should pay for the mistakes of their royal family, then I clearly haven't made enough amends over these past three years."
Davidsen and Fisker instantly went mute.
Well played, Belland mused, thumbing the ivory head of his cane.
Queen Anna looked up worriedly at her sister, who only smiled and nudged her half-finished hot cocoa towards her. The queen drank deeply once more. When she spoke again, her expression was resolute. "We're letting them in. We're a kingdom of plenty. What does it say about us if we don't stand for the good and the many?"
Only Roys nodded back.
Belland reached for the Southern Isles missive sitting on the table and smoothed out its curious state of dishevelment.
"Very well, Your Majesty, Your Highness," Davidsen was saying. "But that still begs the question: what were these 'refugees' taking refuge from?"
The queen and princess shared a look.
"Apparently, Caleb's brothers aren't happy that he's king. Elsa and I talked to some refugees before we came. It sounds bad. Their army and people have been split; it's a full-blown coup."
"Another civil war," Fisker tutted. "Why do those Westergaards insist on reproducing like rabbits if history has never seen them properly get along?"
"But King Caleb's claim to the throne is unquestionable. He is the firstborn and their father's legitimate heir." Roys blinked as a thought occurred to her. "Unless… he's not?"
Erling barked out a laugh. "Caleb, illegitimate? Good luck with that. He is the spitting image of Johan, only fifty pounds lighter and thrice as mean."
"There is something else." Princess Elsa paused, clasping her hands. "We heard rumours that King Johan didn't die of sickness… or accident."
"Oh," Roys said dumbly.
Fisker crowed, "What did I say about them not getting along? Regicide and patricide!"
"I can see the truth in that," Erling said in a disaffected tone, drumming the table. "King Johan wasn't adored by his people but even compared to him, Caleb's methods have always been more bandit than prince. Spoiled completely rotten. I haven't visited the Isles since we cut ties with them, though I can imagine Caleb's only gotten worse. If Johan was killed for trying to reel him in, it's his own fault for not doing so earlier. Then again, I suspect his brothers would've gone after him, even if he'd turned out to be the Lord's chosen one. Like Harald said, there's no love lost between the Westergaard baker's dozen. With their father gone, it's now free game."
Davidsen rotated his neck with a loud crack, and scoffed, "In that case, let them hack and slash it out between themselves. We need only sit back and see who's the last one standing. It was conceited enough for this King Caleb to write to our queen about his kingdom's self-invited problems."
"He wants Arendelle's support."
The other councillors swivelled and stared at Belland. He held up the letter.
"Support?" Fisker burst into incredulous laughter. "That is some gall! Asking us for help after what his brother attempted three years ago."
"He's not asking. He would like the queen to bolster his forces as a 'token of good faith'."
"'Good faith'?" Davidsen roared. "What a madman!"
"There's more," Princess Elsa said. She nodded at Belland.
"'Should my appeal for aid be refused, I will have no choice but to assume that your kingdom is aiding and abetting one of my treasonous brothers. When my throne is secure once more, rest assured, Arendelle will come to know the full force of my retribution. I look forward to a fruitful alliance between our kingdoms.'"
A long silence dragged out.
"Madman," Davidsen repeated, this time in a hiss.
"This is… it is blackmail!" Fisker sounded disgusted. "How deluded must he be to think that he has the upper hand?"
"The thing is," Queen Anna said slowly, "he kind of does." She smiled spiritlessly at Erling. "Hey, Hakon. Now's a good time to tell me I'm wrong."
Belland arched an eyebrow at the familiarity—until he remembered that when then-Princess Anna had been appointed Arendelle's official ambassador, she and Erling had often crossed paths as dignitaries. The trips they'd taken together had raised gossip of the princess one day realising that Erling was a more suitable match than that mountain man of hers. Yet the two of them had only remained close friends, and despite Erling's recent prickliness, it appeared that Queen Anna hadn't forgotten that.
Erling's hard expression twitched with the hint of a smile. Then he was business-like once more. "Unfortunately, Your Majesty is correct. It would not bode well for Arendelle to come under attack from the Southern Isles. Theirs is a kingdom of great military strength."
"Surely that is an exaggeration." Roys pulled at a loose thread on her nightgown, trying and failing to conceal her rising anxiety. "At the end of the day, they are just seven islands in the middle of the sea with inhospitable wind and terrain."
"There is danger in that underestimation," Erling said. "Do we all know what the Southern Isles's primary exports are?"
"Fish," Fisker answered immediately.
"That shiny black rock unique to their islands, for jewellery and statues," Davidsen offered.
"There's one more."
"Mercenaries," the queen and princess said simultaneously.
They looked at each other. Jinx, the younger one mouthed.
"I don't follow," Davidsen grumbled. "Fish, rocks… and mercenaries?"
"Compulsory conscription," Erling explained impatiently. "In times of peace, the king retains his main army and loans men in his reserves to any who can pay. Technically, they are not 'mercenaries' since they still belong to the Southern Isles army, bound to their second employer by contract but owing first allegiance to their king."
"That sounds like a risky arrangement to buy into."
"Yet it gives these so-called mercenaries credibility. They can't turn on their employers or have their loyalties bought off, which is always a problem with freelancers. Well-trained, disciplined soldiers fetch a high price, especially those willing to do the dirty work. Even before you factor in that the Southern Isles's military program ranks among the toughest in Scandinavia."
"It's a really smart move if you think about it," the queen said grudgingly. "Fewer mouths to feed, no overpopulation, and money to be made out of it. It even builds relationships and makes bigger nations think twice about attacking when there are probably Southern Isles soldiers in their own countries. Which the king can summon from all over the world."
"You sound like you admire them, ma'am," Belland observed.
"Well, it is a neat strategy. But to think that one third of their economy depends on violence, and that it's somehow normal for them? It's terrifying." Belatedly, Queen Anna seemed to realise Belland's implication and stared at him in horror. "I-I'm not saying we should try it in Arendelle!"
Belland inclined his head, sensing the Snow Queen watching him.
"If Caleb called all his forces back, they would not only outnumber us," Erling went on, reaching for the sugar pot, "their soldiers would be ready to fight, no matter where they come from. Whereas it has been thirty-four years since Arendelle has seen a proper battle. Even without the numbers, the south has the experience. We may have a strong defensive position, but if our navy were to meet theirs in the North Sea…" He dropped a sugar cube into his tea. "It should only be to ensure a safe evacuation of the royal family."
"Are you saying," Fisker said incredulously, "that we have no choice but to submit to these preposterous demands?"
It did not escape Belland's notice that in the councillor's moment of trepidation, he looked to the Snow Queen.
She shook her head. "No. Anna and I both agree that Arendelle's forces should remain here. We can't rely on King Caleb behaving logically or honourably. He may turn around and attack us regardless of our aid."
"Then our defence will be even weaker because half our men went to fight and die for someone else's stupid war." The queen squeezed her eyes shut. "Sorry," she mumbled.
There it was.
"You have nothing to apologise for, ma'am," Roys said quickly.
"It is late," Davidsen added, his gruff voice softening. "Her Majesty is exhausted and needs rest."
The queen threw up her hands and let out a loud huff. "No—what I need is to get on a ship and offer my own 'fruitful alliance' between Caleb's face and my knuckles."
"Anna," Princess Elsa chided while hiding an obvious smile.
"Just admit it, sis—you loved watching me deck Hans. And I've definitely gotten stronger after all those hiking trips with Kristoff. From the right angle, I think I could knock Caleb to Spain."
"There is another option," Erling said.
"Fine. Russia."
"… To defend Arendelle, ma'am."
She perked up. "There is?"
"King Caleb kindly suggested it himself."
It took only a moment for Belland to understand. "'I will have no choice but to assume that your kingdom is aiding and abetting one of my treasonous brothers'."
"Exactly. Why be hunted when we could become the hunter? At this stage, there are three positive outcomes: Caleb bluffing, Caleb losing too many soldiers to march on Arendelle, or Caleb losing the Southern Isles altogether." He looked around the table. "We can guarantee two of those three simply by lending our support to his opposition."
"You're suggesting that we back his brothers," Roys deduced.
"No." The queen's playfulness had vanished. She looked to her sister for agreement, but the Snow Queen's attention was fixed on Erling, her brow furrowed, lips pursed. Queen Anna turned back at Erling and said, more firmly, "No."
"If I may elaborate, Your Majesty—I have met all the Westergaard princes. Most of them are no better than Caleb; I daresay a handful are actually worse and could be working with him. But I can think of one who would appreciate our help in removing his father's murderer and can be trusted to keep his word."
"What, because a man who kills his own brother is somehow more trustworthy than the one who killed his father? If we help any of them, they could still turn around and attack us. It doesn't change anything."
"Caleb only threatens war because of pride; he cannot stomach defeat so he uses underhanded measures. Pride cannot be reasoned with, but the new king would be a fool to—"
The queen's voice rose. "We would be the fools to believe that any prince on those miserable islands with a line of succession all the way to Antarctica wouldn't want to invade a lush, prosperous kingdom while its army is away! With or without pride."
"That is why we bind them to a new alliance—"
"Oh, wonderful—because our old alliance did such a fantastic job discouraging Hans from trying to steal the kingdom, didn't it?"
Erling's eyes flashed. "Perhaps he would not have been half as successful if our crown princess hadn't named him regent without consulting anyone, and run off to climb a mountain with no guards or foresight!"
Roys gasped. Davidsen shoved his seat back, face red as a bull's.
But it was Queen Anna who shot to her feet first, glaring at Erling as if they weren't queen and councillor quarrelling in front of an audience like siblings. "You know what? That was stupid of me. How many times do you want me to admit it? I panicked and left Arendelle vulnerable in the hands of someone I'd just met that day. But I didn't know you yet, did I? And now that I do, Hakon, I'm glad I couldn't leave you in charge—because the way you've been acting lately, Elsa and I might have come back to the kingdom already in the middle of a war you keep trying to drag us into."
Erling stood, too, cheeks flushed. He was not a particularly tall man and stood eye to eye with the queen, a table of stunned councillors caught between them. "And what would you have us do, Your Majesty? Pray day and night for Caleb's clemency? Pretend you never got his letter? You are supposed to be the queen of—"
"So you haven't forgotten."
The Snow Queen spoke softly, but her words commanded the room in an instant. Everyone's attention had been so focused on Queen Anna and Erling that no one had paid attention to the princess' silence. Or the frost that had fogged up the chamber's windows.
Her gaze bore down on Erling, cerulean eyes glinting like shards of ice. "I worried for a moment that you had forgotten she is your queen, Councillor."
Impressively, Erling didn't recoil from her glacial tone. He pulled at his collar and straightened his shirt. "If I had forgotten that, Your Highness, I would not be trying to offer her my counsel."
"I seem to recall you offering me counsel in a very different manner."
"That is because Your Highness did not refuse to listen to sound advice out of a prejudice born from her own naïve mistake."
Only after the words had left his mouth did Erling seem to realise he had gone too far. But it was too late.
Very quietly, the Snow Queen said, "I trust you remember which of my mistakes sent Anna up the North Mountain, Councillor."
Belland watched Erling's neck twitch as he swallowed. Despite the drastic drop in temperature, he was the only one whose breath rose in white puffs before his face. When it became apparent that not answering was not an option, he muttered, "I do, Your Highness."
"Then I hope you will also remember what it looks like when I am in control. I suggest you excuse yourself from this meeting, Councillor Erling. If your queen will allow it."
Erling clenched his jaw and seemed to focus on a point over the queen's shoulder. "Your Majesty," he said stiffly. "May I take my leave?"
Queen Anna's face showed everything. Anger had dominated most of the exchange, but now she stared at Erling with an emotion that, like an apology, most monarchs could not afford to show. Hurt.
She nodded wordlessly.
He left.
The frost had evaporated from the windows, but the high-ceilinged chamber did not regain its warmth. "Excuse me," Princess Elsa murmured. "Kai, could you please add another log to the fire?"
"Erling's not been himself these past few months," Davidsen grunted with a shake of his head. "But now I suspect he's lost his mind."
The queen was quiet, her confused gaze caught on Erling's empty chair. She started when her sister squeezed her shoulder. "Sorry, I—" She stopped and took a deep breath. "I haven't asked what everyone else thinks of Caleb's letter."
With Erling gone, the ministers of education, agriculture, and the treasury all turned to Belland.
He folded his hands over his cane and met the queen's expectant gaze. "We do not have to worry about King Caleb while his full attention is on the coup. It may last months. This gives us time to contact our allies and inform them of the situation. It would be wise to gain a better grasp of the conflict's scope before acting."
The queen nodded back, visibly relieved. "Thank you, Councillor Belland. We shall do that."
"The refugees, however, require more immediate attention. Your Majesty's mind remains unchanged on the matter of taking them in?"
Dishevelled and young, the queen did not look like a queen. She did not speak like a queen. She barely thought like a queen. But when she said, "It's the right thing to do," no one thought to question her.
More, thought Belland. He needed to see more.
OoOoO
The moment the chamber doors closed behind Kai and the councillors, Elsa turned to Anna and they both asked at the same time: "Are you okay?"
They traded weary smiles. Anna chuckled, "Jinx again?"
Elsa held out her hand. "Come on."
She pulled Anna to the hearth and deposited her in an armchair before crossing over to put another log on the fire. When she turned around, Anna had wrapped her arms around her legs and was watching with a goofy smile that made Elsa laugh. "What?"
"Do you have to make your own campfire in the Forest? Or do you just get Bruni to, like, sneeze?"
Her sister scooted over to make space on the chair, which was wide and deep-seated enough to fit both of them. "I'm not bothered by the cold, remember? You, though, are going to catch one."
Anna held out her hands and Elsa, wishing for the opposite of her powers, absentmindedly rubbed them. Neither of them spoke for a long while, listening to the crackling fire.
Elsa realised she was hoping the flames would flash violet.
Then Anna let out a hissed "Ow!" She pulled her right hand out of Elsa's and squinted at her forefinger. "Oops. Splinter."
Elsa jolted. "Where?"
"Probably from the boat. I was holding this oar so I could—"
"No, I meant—never mind, just let me see it."
She wished she hadn't asked. There was a horribly visible sliver lodged in Anna's finger at such a shallow angle that the entire length of it was submersed, creating a long and narrow shadow beneath the skin. Just seeing it made Elsa feel faint. "Don't move," she ordered tightly, crafting a pair of tweezers. Then, for safe measure, she made a magnifying glass and passed it to Anna. "Hold this for me."
"How do you just know how to make everything?" Anna pointed the glass at Elsa's face. "And how on earth is your skin so clear?"
"Anna! Can we please focus on the inch-long splinter in your finger?"
"Oh, it's not that bad. The one in my foot? Now that was an inch; it was practically a nail, actually. It was so silly. I was climbing a tree and my shoe—"
"Stop. Moving." Elsa peered at her sister's finger, tweezer hovering uncertainly over the splinter's dark tip. Were tweezers even the correct tool? What if she ended up pushing it further in? What if part of it broke off and stayed embedded forever? What if it got infected?
Anna had craned her neck to see Elsa's face and was now staring at her like a curious cat. "Um, Elsa? Have you never gotten a splinter before?"
She failed to see how this was relevant when there was a needle sticking out of her sister's dominant hand. "I don't climb trees. Now will you please stay still?"
"Oh. My. Gosh." Anna cupped her free hand to her mouth, eyes swimming with laughter. "How have you never… in your whole life?"
"Why is that so surprising? It's hardly a developmental milestone." Elsa thrust the tweezers at her sister. "Would you like to use your ample experience to pull it out yourself?"
"Nah, I'm only good at getting the splinters in, not out. But it can't be that hard; Mother used to just yank them out with her fingers."
"But what if I hurt you?"
"God, Elsa, if you make me have that conversation with you one more time, I swear I'll forbid the kitchen from serving you dessert ever again."
Elsa started to wonder if she'd left the kingdom in the hands of a tyrant. "If you're sure… but I still want you to hold the magnifying glass so I can see it better. And tell me if it hurts."
"It won't," Anna sang as she tucked her head into the crook of Elsa's neck and obligingly held out the glass. Which swayed because she was clearly trying to make light trails on the wall.
Ignoring the white-hot pressure behind her eyes, Elsa brought the tweezers to Anna's finger, rigid with concentration. "It really doesn't hurt?"
"No, the ice is numbing everything. Seriously, sis, it's just a splinter. It won't kill me."
The docks swarmed with battered boats unloading drenched bodies that cried and called for each other, and some were as eerily still as the broken hull of her parents' ship—but none of them was her little sister.
"Anna?"
"Mm?"
"Can you please keep talking?"
Her sister immediately raised her head. "What's wrong?"
An ocean dripped from Kristoff's clothes as he turned to her with a desperate look that seemed to say 'Can't you just freeze the fjord or something?'
"Elsa?"
"I'll tell you later. I promise. Why don't you talk to me about Councillor Erling? I don't remember him being so confrontational."
Anna flopped back with a hefty sigh. "I don't know. He's been weird since the coronation. At first, I thought he just didn't like that you abdicated, which I totally get because obviously you were fantastic."
"Anna, please don't—"
"I know, I know; shouldn't compare two sides of the same bridge, right? But visitors always ask about you and I still get mail with your name on it. You can't change that you were a great queen, Elsa—it's a good thing, so you're not allowed to feel guilty. Anyway, I don't think that's why Hakon was strange. He wasn't exactly respectful towards you, either." Anna sighed again. "Can you believe we used to be friends?"
What Elsa couldn't believe was that there even existed a person who could refuse Anna's friendship. Then she blinked. "I got it."
"You figured out why Hakon's being such a jerk?"
"No, I…" Elsa held up the tweezers. "I got it out."
Anna stared at the splinter clenched at the end of the ice pincers, then down at her hand. And then she grinned at Elsa, just like she had when they learned that love would thaw. "I knew you could do it. I'm still telling Kristoff, though."
"Tell me what?"
They both peered over the back of the armchair to see Kristoff shouldering through the door, both hands full with plates. Which he hastily raised above his head just in time to keep Anna from knocking them to the ground when she leapt up to tackle him. "Uh, Anna, it's good to see you too, but could you—"
"I'm sorry I left you behind," she mumbled into his broad chest. "I didn't want to. Council meeting."
"I know, you told me. And you didn't leave me behind; you left me in charge. Big difference. Now, you should really—"
"You smell…" Anna sniffed him and recoiled. "Really bad!"
"That's what I've been trying to tell you." Kristoff looked over his wife's head and rolled his eyes at Elsa. She shrugged back and looked meaningfully at the platters of food in his hands.
I see you found the kitchen, she mouthed, smiling when he made a face and shushed her.
"You need a shower," Anna complained. "Like, right now. Elsa, can you do it?"
"I can only freeze the moisture and get him dry. If it was in my capacity to sanitise him, I would not have struggled so badly getting him and Sven into a bath for your birthday."
"Trust me, drying down is way more useful." Kristoff looked at Elsa. "You saved a lot of people from hypothermia and frostbite tonight."
She could freeze the fjord, but she couldn't simply freeze the water. It wasn't a matter of letting loose; she had to sculpt. But this wasn't an ice rink, or a palace carved of symmetrical fractals. There was no geometry, no consistent patterns, no calculable vectors. She only knew that she needed to raise everything, everyone, without freezing or trapping them, still swimming and breathing, in the ice. Without being able to see them. And she knew, like she'd known when racing the flood to save Arendelle, that she couldn't do it alone—because the ice was hers, but the water wasn't.
Anna peppered Kristoff with questions as he made his way to the hearth. "Are they in the Great Hall now? Do we need more physicians? I'll go check on them."
"Whoa, slow down. We're still trying to get them settled in. It's practically the crack of dawn, and I bet neither of you have eaten. So you're not going anywhere until these plates are clean."
They ate on the floor in front of the fire. Anna recounted the council meeting, using body language to make up for what she lacked in verbal intelligibility and sending bits of sandwich flying everywhere. When she reached the part involving Councillor Erling, Kristoff choked on a piece of ham.
"He said what to you?"
Anna thumped his back with the force of a thunderclap. "I know! I was so shocked because he's been grumpy for a while, but today he was just rude."
"Which one is Erling again?"
"The short one with glasses. Round head? My height?"
"Oh, him." Kristoff tore off a massive chunk of sandwich with his teeth and chewed moodily. "Good. Never liked him."
"Honey, you are expressly forbidden from punching him."
"Fine. I'll trip him in the corridor."
"You don't have to. Elsa already scared him off."
"Did she do it Sven-is-a-reindeer style?"
"Even better. She threatened to turn him into a popsicle."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Elsa said, shaking her head. "Either of you."
"Sure, sis. Kristoff, can you believe Elsa's never had a splinter before? She completely freaked out when she found one in my finger earlier. It was hilarious."
"Another splinter? Did she get it out? How long was it? Did you rinse the wound? You should put honey on it to keep infection out."
"Thank you," Elsa told him, while Anna slapped a hand to her face and groaned, "What am I going to do with you two?"
From Kristoff, they learned that the surviving refugees were being transferred to the castle according to Anna's orders. General Mattias had organised guards to supervise them and ordered extra patrols around the dock and lighthouses in case more boats turned up.
"How many survivors?"
"At the last count, nearly forty. The townspeople really helped. We got blankets and a change of clothes for everyone. There's so much food coming in that the kitchen barely needs to cook anything."
"How many didn't…" Anna didn't have to finish.
Kristoff put an arm around her. "Nineteen."
When she dipped into that gentle river within her subconsciousness, the water didn't answer back with a familiar thunder of hoofbeats. She waited and called and waited some more, but when no ripples stirred, she realised there was no choice but to do it on her own.
"Do you need more ice?" Elsa quietly asked Kristoff.
"Ah… no. What we have should last through the night in this climate."
It took several moments for Anna to catch on. Her shoulders drooped. "Where are we keeping them?" Then she answered her own question. "Oh. The dungeons."
"It's the only place no one goes that's cold enough," Kristoff said gently.
"Remind me to let the guards know the family can go down there if they want to… say goodbye properly."
Kristoff nodded and rubbed his bloodshot eyes. "They told me to thank you. Both of you."
Layer by layer, seabed to the surface; rising, rising. She could do it, could control it. Yet the weight of the fjord stacked on her ice like a physical pressure on her skull. The more water she shaved away, the more her head felt like it would burst. In the distance, she heard angry snorting.
A loud snore. Kristoff had nodded off with his head on the seat of the armchair behind him. Anna gingerly slipped out from under his arm, kissed his brow, and scooted around the food to join Elsa. "So much for that shower. We'll need Sven to carry him to bed."
"I think I can do it."
"Are you sure about that? You don't look like you could lift me."
"With my powers, Anna," Elsa said dryly. "I could make a sled. Or float him on a bed of snow."
"Right. Of course. I'm pretty sure I could lift you, by the way."
"Please don't try." Elsa nudged her sister with her shoulder. "Are you alright?"
Anna studied her wriggling toes. "I've been better. You?"
"Same." Elsa resisted the urge to massage her throbbing temples. "Would you like me to fix your hair?"
"Gosh, yes. I completely forgot about that. I lost my hair ribbons in the fjord, so I just knotted it. Do you think it'll ever come out?"
"Let's find out." Elsa folded her legs to the side as Anna shuffled in front of her, giving her a cringeworthy view of the wild snarls in her sister's hair. "I may actually prefer removing splinters to this," she muttered as she pulled her fingers through the largest knot. After a while, though, it became oddly therapeutic. This, at least, she could fix.
"Guess what?" Anna said sleepily. "I just thought of something you've never needed magic to make."
Mistakes. They thought she was making a mistake.
Then Anna fell back against her, and Elsa could no longer see what she was untangling. Just her sister's drowsy, contented smile as she said, "Better. You always make everything better."
And despite her bone-deep fatigue and the nineteen strangers lying motionless on her ice in the dungeons, Elsa managed to choke out a laugh. Sometimes she forgot that even after those memories had been removed, her little sister had still spent thirteen years asking to build a snowman with her. Because, apparently, she'd never stopped believing that Elsa herself was magic.
Then Elsa's head imploded.
She knew they were there; she could sense them. But they could also sense her and it was different; it wasn't the same. She wasn't the same.
Anna became a blur of panic and concern. "Elsa? What's wrong? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine… it's just a headache." Her eyes watered.
"Why didn't you say anything? Do you need to lie down? Wait, is this what you wanted to tell me earlier?"
"No, I…"
Anna watched her, biting her lip as a dozen emotions wrestled across her face. Then she visibly clamped down on every impulse and sighed, "Come lie down. No excuses."
Elsa found herself curled up on her side with her head in Anna's lap and the fire warming her back. And when Anna rested her hand gently over Elsa's eyes, the way their mother used to when one of them fell asleep on the picnic blanket, the storm that raged behind her eyelids eased into a light pattering of rain. It felt like all they needed now was their mother's scarf. Then all would be right in the world once more.
"You should have told me you weren't feeling well. No wonder you were so quiet in the meeting."
"I was quiet because you didn't seem to need me."
"I did need you. I wanted to run out and cry at least four times. Maybe seven."
"My sister needed me," Elsa corrected. "But the queen didn't. You were brilliant."
"And you were scary. We did it together."
Not this time. This time, she was on her own and it felt far, far more hollow than before.
"I tried to call the Nokk," Elsa blurted. "To help the people in the water… but it didn't answer me."
Anna stopped stroking Elsa's hair. When she shifted Anna's hand away from her eyes, Elsa saw that her sister's face was a mask of dread. "Don't tell me the Nokk… those boats…"
Elsa's own horror rose. She sat up a little too quickly, head spinning. "No! That's not—the Nokk had nothing to do with what happened. None of the spirits did. They are part of nature, but they don't interfere with what is natural."
"But Elsa, people were drowning. They were dying! How is that natural?"
Elsa recalled what Anna had said in the meeting, about violence being a normal part of the Southern Isles's economy. Something they wouldn't think to be terrified of. "Anna… death is a part of nature, too."
"I know that. I know that, but…" There was anguish in Anna's voice. "How could they not care?"
Her sister was her own force of nature as she snapped, "But what if I care about not watching people die in front of my eyes?" and it cut through the mist like an answer she hadn't realised she was searching for. But it also felt like a reminder, and that frightened her.
"The spirits know when not to interfere. So they don't understand why I did." Elsa's voice dropped to a whisper as the pounding in her head returned. "Because I'm supposed to be one of them."
"But you're not like them, Elsa." Anna's warm hands held Elsa's face still. Except she didn't lean in to press their foreheads together. She didn't say You're the bridge or even You're my sister. She looked directly at Elsa, tears still quivering on her eyelashes, and said with the fierceness of a rising sun—
"You're human."
Something was familiar, like an anchor dropped into the eye of the storm; and as she arrived back on the shores of her home, she realised she was no longer trembling.
A/N: When I outlined the story, this chapter was not supposed to be this long or that dark and high-strung. I literally titled the last scene "de-stress" because much fluff was needed. As in, the splinter scene was just supposed to be Anna making another offhanded statement but Elsa could not have that.
My knowledge of history, politics and war strategies is dreadful so please forgive any inaccuracies in the dense council scene. I just wanted to explain that things were Not Good and 4000 words ran away from me. I also tried to incorporate as much canon into the Southern Isles using material from the Disney novel 'A Frozen Heart'. Everything else was creative license.