The Next Unknown

5 – Off on a Different Path

OoOoO

She didn't want to blame it on Ryder's singing, but an acapella about frolicking in autumn leaves arguably hastened her undoing.

Elsa covered her mouth and yawned.

Honeymaren smirked at her from her seat of comfort on the wagon. "Cut it out, Ryder. You're putting Elsa to sleep."

Ahead of them, Ryder broke into an utterly tone-deaf falsetto.

"I know; I'm also astonished that I haven't murdered him yet. Not that you'd know anything about annoying younger siblings. You struck the jackpot with Anna. At least you actually like each other." Honeymaren rapped her knuckles against the wooden bench. "Ryder! If your banshee cry attracts the wolves again, I swear to Ahtohallan I will not be saving your weeping behind a second time!"

"Excuse me, I seem to remember being the one to swoop in and rescue you like the fearless warrior that I am!"

"And how exactly did I fall off the wagon in the first place?"

"For the last time, it was an accident!"

"You two seem to get along just fine to me," Elsa chuckled.

Ryder and Honeymaren exchanged blank stares. Then they simultaneously turned to Elsa and jabbed critical fingers at each other.

"I would never lend Maren my favourite reindeer just so she would feel less lonely leaving me behind."

"And spirits know I'd sooner hike back to the Forest on foot than stay up all night to finish knitting a scarf for this brat."

"You and Anna are just weird," they concluded in uncanny unison.

Elsa decided it was easier to let it go.

She wouldn't have been able to reply anyway—Kjekk spotted a butterfly and instantly reeled in terror.

"It's okay! You're okay." Elsa hugged the horse's neck for both comfort and survival.

The first few times it had happened, her friends had gasped and worried. Now they were so used to it that Elsa had to urge Kjekk into a canter to catch up with the wagon. Ryder didn't even look as he called back, "This is why reindeers are better!"

Take Kjekk with you, Anna had insisted. He's a scaredy-pony—ow! What? You are! Anyway, just in case the Nokk is too grumpy to let you ride him, Kjekk will get you back to Arendelle in a jiffy. Because there's nothing he loves more than freaking out and running home. Isn't that right, boy?

After nearly being thrown off half a dozen times by Kjekk's alarm over 1) a snapping branch, 2) his own reflection in the water, 3) another branch, 4) a warbler's song, 5) his reflection yet again, and 6) Ryder's admittedly staggering sneeze—Elsa could very easily imagine how Anna had gotten stranded in the mountains three years ago.

Riding Kjekk through the rocky terrain required so much focus that they had almost arrived at the Forest by the time Elsa thought to reach into the saddlebag for water. Also nestled inside, bursting with her favourite fillings, was a clumsily-made sandwich. Somehow, the sight of it unlocked something inside of Elsa. It gave her permission to ease back in the saddle with a smile, tilt her head skyward, and inhale.

Arendelle smelled like the sea, fresh pastry, and the flowers Anna put in her hair. Arendelle carried the scent of childhood and home. But it was out here, among trees and mountains that would remain standing long after she and everything she loved had faded away, that Elsa understood the liberty of simply being.

Anna was right. She had needed this quite badly.

Then Kjekk came to a sudden halt, and she nearly fell off for the eighth time.

Sighing, Elsa righted herself and pushed hair out of her eyes. "What is it this time, boy?"

"Um," Ryder squeaked. "Are you all seeing this?"

"I am," Honeymaren said slowly. "And it definitely was not like this yesterday."

They both looked to Elsa for an answer—but when she looked up and saw the mist, she wasn't sure that she had one.

OoOoO

It was Kristoff's fault for giving him those shoddy instructions before running off to help the refugees find employment in the village. Oskar was too young, but most of his people had already been recruited into castle staff positions. This suited him just fine; he didn't need Osmund's nasal voice questioning his every move. He didn't need anyone.

He did seriously consider asking the next passing servant for directions, though.

Why was this so bloody difficult? Oskar could see the stables from the windows—he had even caught a glimpse of the reindeer and the talking snowman chasing each other in the courtyard. Yet he could not for the life of him figure out how to get down there. Directionless bumbling mountain man.

Oskar was still fuming when he'd turned into another corridor and found himself in front of the obnoxiously messy study, its double doors wide open. Empty. Then he spotted two loose sheets of paper on the floor.

And now he was halfway around the castle, clutching a bundle large as a dictionary, finally close enough to see the queen's dress swishing around another corner.

"Oi! Stop dropping things!" Oskar snatched up the sheets and scrambled after her, catching up just in time to see another piece of paper flutter to the floor. He watched her step on it… and keep walking. Jesus. Was everyone in this family hard of hearing? "You can't be serious… hey, you! Anna!"

She squawked and leapt at least three feet into the air, hands flying to her chest as she whirled around—

—and dropped everything else.

"Oh. My. God," Oskar deadpanned.

"Oh my God!" she cried. "Oskar! Don't sneak up on me like that! Now look what you've done—as if I'm not already late enough."

"What I've done? You're the one who's been dropping stuff all over the castle!"

"Wait, really? Are you telling me I have to go all the way back and… oh?" Anna peered at the misshapen stack in his arms. "Aww! Did you pick them up for me?"

"Shut up. I'm tall enough to chuck these out the window, you know."

Laughing, she started gathering the papers around her. "Go ahead. Sven and Olaf will help me pick them up again. I have lots of friends, you see. Including you."

"Keep telling yourself that."

"Sure will."

Was she seriously picking up those sheets one by one?

"So," Anna said smugly, when he crouched down to help. "What are you doing all the way here in the west wing?"

Picking up after you. "Looking for the stables."

"Oh, easy. Just keep going straight, take the next right, head downstairs—those bannisters are totally safe to slide down, by the way—then follow the paintings of naked people all the way to another set of stairs, but don't go down them. Swing another right, then left, and you'll see doors opening into the courtyard. Sven and Olaf should be out there playing tag."

"… Paintings of naked people?"

"It's a Renaissance art thing. I don't know. We can ask Elsa when she gets back—ah, shoot, this one looks important." She tried to press the creases out of a document stamped with Arendelle's crocus seal.

Oskar eyed the turquoise scarf around her shoulders. It wasn't his business. He would have been none the wiser if he hadn't woken up early and happened to glance out that particular window on his way back to the Great Hall.

What an idiot.

It wasn't until he saw her head shoot up in surprise that he realised he'd said it aloud.

"My sister," Anna said, eyes narrowed, "is the least idiotic person in this whole kingdom and yes, I will fight you on that."

Oskar flushed. But whatever; he wasn't obliged to be nice. "I meant you."

"Oh. Well then, that's okay… wait, what? Excuse me?"

"You should have just told her that you didn't want her to leave."

She smiled sheepishly and played with the tassels on her scarf. "Ah… you saw that, did you?"

He'd seen all of it. Kristoff and two other people waiting by the gates with a loaded wagon and two reindeers, while Anna and her sister had stood to the side calming an anxious-looking horse. He'd seen the Snow Queen make a signal to the snowman, who had toddled over and proudly presented a bright bundle to Anna. Oskar had watched Anna unfurl the scarf and press it to her face as if holding back tears, and when she'd hurtled herself at her sister with enough force to make them stagger, he hadn't just seen it—he'd felt it.

"I needed to use the bathroom." Then, before he could think too much about it, added, "Sorry."

"What? No, it's fine. Unless you're apologising for calling me an idiot."

"No."

"It was worth a shot." She deliberated, then wondered, "Did I look sad? Because I tried really hard not to look sad."

"How would I know? It was too far for me to tell." Oskar pulled the last sheets of paper towards him. Then he tugged Anna's pile out of her hands and straightened the edges, because this grown woman kept proving herself incapable of multitasking.

Case in point: as soon as her hands were free, Anna crossed her arms and settled back on her heels in a pose of serious digression. "I mean, I only cried a tiny bit when Elsa gave me the scarf, and she totally believed me when I said it was just sand in my eyes. I think. I don't know; I just didn't want her to change her mind—not that I would have let her stay, anyway, but I don't want her feeling awful about it."

"Stop worrying about what other people think. You're the queen."

She raised her eyebrows. "And Elsa's my sister. Also, worrying about other people is literally in my job description."

"No, it's not." Oskar shoved the papers at her. "A ruler's job is to rule."

"I think there are lots of different ways to do that." Anna stood, holding the papers more securely this time.

Oskar wasn't sure why he automatically fell into step when she started walking. Like Kristoff, Anna shortened her strides to match his pace. And, like the chair the Snow Queen had made for him, and the clean socks Kristoff had dropped off that morning, it was annoyingly considerate.

These people were not lions. The problem was, Oskar wasn't sure what they were.

"Why did you order everyone to keep it a secret?" he asked.

"Hmm? What secret?"

"My identity. And why did you hire my staff? Did you test them first?"

"You tell me. I'm an idiot, remember?"

Definitely not a mouse.

"You're not an idiot, though," she added, "so I don't need to remind you to keep it hush hush. Especially around Olaf. I love him, but he is worse than me at keeping secrets—and that's saying something."

"What—scared someone will kidnap and ship me back to Caleb?" Oskar deduced dryly.

The look she gave him was by far the most serious he'd seen from her so far. "Yes, actually. So if that's what you want, Oskar, you'd better tell me now before I start doing everything in my power to make sure it doesn't happen."

Lions did not spare their prey, let alone guard them.

"Then you shouldn't let me wander around the castle," he pointed out.

"Why is that?"

"I might be tempted to look in places I'm not supposed to if I've got too much time on my hands."

"Pretty sure you're just saying that to create an alibi for yourself in case you get caught, kiddo."

Not a complete idiot, either.

"Besides, if you can bother searching my scrapyard of an office in the first place, you deserve to find something for your efforts. You won't have time to snoop around anyway; I've got a special mission lined up for you."

"Who said I'll take orders from you?"

They turned into a hallway that was wider and more stately-looking than the rest. A steward waiting outside a pair of open doors immediately hurried over to relieve Anna of her load.

"Ooft, thanks, Kai. Let's see… this one doesn't look too important… and maybe this one, too."

Riffling through the stack, Anna drew out a few sheets. Then she led Oskar several paces away and sat down on a window ledge. "You're Gregory's son. So that makes you the highest ranking among your people here."

He crossed his arms. "So?"

She handed him the paper, blank sides up. "I don't know what good leadership looks like in the Southern Isles… but in Arendelle, it means being there for your people. Through life and death."

The sunlight behind shadowed her face, but it was impossible to overlook her encouraging smile.

"Prince Oskar of the Southern Isles. Will you do us the honour of drafting funeral rites so we can give your people a proper send-off?"

OoOoO

"Okay," the queen said. "Now we're ready to go wild."

The council stared at the array of documents that covered nearly every inch of the long table.

"Your Majesty?" General Mattias said bemusedly. "What exactly is going on here?"

"Oh, right. Come, General; this is your corner." Grabbing him by the sleeve, Queen Anna led him down the table and planted him in a chair. "Councillor Roys, you're over there. Councillors Fisker and Davidsen, see those two inkwells at the end? Right there. Ah, Councillor Belland, this way, please. And Councillor Erling? Your section is opposite the general's… here. Yes, perfect."

Taking his seat, Belland glanced down at the papers scattered in front of him. Most appeared to have been written by two authors, with the queen's erratic scrawl standing out boldly next to Princess Elsa's pristine penmanship.

On the other end of the long table, Fisker picked up a sheet containing a table of numbers. "Tax revenue?" he said distastefully, as Davidsen studied his allocation and grumbled, "Fertiliser?"

"Oops, sorry—you two need to swap seats. Right. Is everyone sitting in front of something that makes sense to them?"

They all nodded back with varying levels of dubiousness.

"Good, good. So what you're looking at are some plans Elsa and I drafted for… well, everything we could think of to help us get through whatever it is we're facing. They're not perfect because we were half-asleep, but hopefully you'll understand enough to start scribbling. And if you can't read what I wrote… good luck, because I probably can't either."

"Scribbling, ma'am?" Roys questioned.

"Yep!" The queen spread her arms grandly. "Scribble. Write comments in the margins. Make suggestions. Cross out the parts that sound stu—um, anything that doesn't make sense! Scrap the whole plan and rewrite it if you have to. I promise I won't be offended. I know this isn't exactly protocol, but let's face it; we don't have the time to sit and argue over every little thing on the agenda."

Belland was not the only one who arched an eyebrow at that. For what other purpose did the privy council exist, if not to vehemently protest change?

The queen fingered what looked to be a new bracelet around her wrist. "Arendelle might be facing its first war in thirty-something years. I haven't even been alive that long. But there are… gosh—centuries of experience between the six of you. Not that I'm calling you old. Every matter before you is there because it needs you. Your knowledge. I need you. And I might be asking more of you than my father and sister did combined, so let's make it fair."

She met each of their eyes in turn. "If you think I'm doing something wrong, just say it. If you need something done, tell me. You don't need my permission to walk out at any point and do whatever needs to be done. Talk to each other. Talk to me. Heck—talk about me; I don't mind. As long as we're working together—properly. It's our best hope of getting through this."

Mystified silence.

Fisker raised a hand. "Your Majesty, if I may once more bring up the increasingly urgent matter of our grain shortage—"

"Page four. It might be out of order because I kind of dropped everything on the way here, but we did number the pages." Queen Anna paused. "Okay, fine. Elsa numbered them."

Fisker put on his reading glasses and shuffled through his papers. "Your Majesty, this is indeed a sound proposal, but are you certain about—"

"If you disagree with anything, I'm all ears. But before you come to me, I'd like to hear you discussing it with everyone else. None of us can do our jobs in a vacuum, right?"

Fisker blinked. "Right… of course, Your Majesty."

"Great!" The queen clapped her hands together. "We'll stop to debrief over lunch. And dinner if we have to. Any questions?"

The councillors exchanged looks.

Mattias asked, "What's on the menu?"

"Aha! Good question, my dear sir. There will be cake and pudding and krumkake… it's dessert, really. Lunch will be dessert."

Tentative chuckles ran down the length of the table.

"Go wild, people," Queen Anna said again, warmly. "We have a kingdom to run."

Mattias was the first to move. Then Davidsen. Eventually, even Hakon Erling reached for a quill.

Belland had served Arendelle all his life, and had seen royalty of all kinds. He knew what to look for. He knew that rulers passed orders, tyrants made demands, and recreants fled. He knew that children played with toys that weren't toys and, more often than not, broke them.

Yet it was his first time laying eyes on a queen who tripped on the same spot each time she entered the council chambers, and brought with her the unprecedented intention of making all their jobs easier in the hardest way. A queen who seemed to believe that the crown on her head did not give her power, but merely the privilege of asking for it.

Then Belland corrected himself; he had seen it before. Three years ago, when another young woman had dumped piles of scrolls and books on this same table, and requested their counsel. And again only hours ago, when she had stood on his front steps to ask for a favour.

The only thing left for Belland to question now, was his answer.

OoOoO

"Your Majesty, may I—"

"I give up!" Anna flopped back and nearly stabbed her quill into Mattias's eye. "Gah, I'm sorry! I didn't see you there! I'm all over the place today."

Only last night she had so smugly called Elsa out for being distracted. Now Anna was back to dropping classified documents all over the castle—which, come to think of it, wouldn't have happened in the first place if she hadn't been watching the celestial glow drain from her new bracelet as her sister travelled further away. So really, it was Elsa's fault.

'Promise you'll break this if you need me, Anna. I'll know, and I promise I'll come for you.'

Anna had nearly snapped those beautiful snowflake links as soon as she'd stepped into the council chambers.

All this time, she'd thought that Elsa had shouldered so many state responsibilities because she was just Elsa and couldn't delegate without feeling like she was shirking her duties. There was the perfectionism, too, but now Anna understood why her sister had preferred to do so much on her own.

Apparently, one competent person could accomplish more than a group that took five hours to agree on one thing. And to Anna's chagrin, most of the time that single consensus was to postpone the matter for later discussion.

If anyone who can wrangle the council into a functional team, Elsa had chuckled a little too merrily, it's you, sis.

Now, Anna wished she could take a photograph and send it to her sister. Arendelle's most privileged and haughty, bent over a shamble of paperwork and throwing discussions across the table like students in a rowdy classroom. There were arguments, alright, but at least there was now an undercurrent of progress to their exasperated tones.

Mattias seemed to be thinking the same thing, because he chuckled, "If you can be all over the place and still make this happen, I reckon you could conquer the world after a good night's sleep. I see Princess Elsa finished the scarf, by the way. It looks lovely on you."

Anna's mouth dropped open. "How do you all… am I the only one who didn't know Elsa was knitting me a scarf?"

"Pretty sure you're the only one who wasn't supposed to know, ma'am."

"Treason."

The scarf looked and felt like Mother's one, but it invariably smelled of Elsa. She had looked like she'd wanted to say something when she'd wrapped it around Anna's shoulders. Anna had meant to ask, but unsealing her lips would have meant collapsing into more tears, so she'd plunged into Elsa's arms and understood that two sisters, one mind meant words were unnecessary.

Anna brandished the delicate chain of snowflakes on her wrist. "Look what else she made me."

Mattias drew his head back so he could focus his gaze on the bracelet. "Now that's elegance. Is there anything the princess can't make?"

"Sure: something ugly."

They both struggled to control their snickers.

"Good for you, Anna," Mattias said, and she beamed back because he didn't understand exactly how good it was for her.

Olaf probably wouldn't understand, either, but he would definitely notice that Anna no longer had to track him down at odd hours to ask if Elsa was okay.

"Sorry, I completely side-tracked there. Did you want to ask me something?"

"Ah, yes." Mattias cleared his throat. "May I take leave to convene with my captains and lieutenants? We'll need to do a full inventory of the armoury and find suitable locations to run naval drills without hitting ice in the fjord."

"Kristoff would be able to show you some good spots. And you don't have to ask for permission, remember?"

"Thank you, ma'am. May I add one more thing?"

"Only if it's good news."

Mattias set a hand on Anna's shoulder. "It was my loss to have missed out on Queen Elsa's reign, just as I will always regret missing out on your father's. But I really do see the best of them both in you, Anna."

Anna swallowed. Keep it together. "Thanks, Mattias. It… means a lot. By the way, I can really see how you kept Halima under your spell for three decades. If you ever need a top-up before popping the big question—"

"Your in-laws are love experts. Your sister already played that one on me."

"Damn it, Elsa!"

After Mattias left, Anna looked back down at the missive she'd been writing and realised she could barely read it. The grandfather clock unapologetically reminded her that lunch was still a long way away. And the end of her work was even further.

She pulled Elsa's scarf tighter around her. The bracelet still sparkled, but only when it caught the light; its magical glow had faded. It meant Elsa was far, far away. She must have reached the Forest by now, diving straight into making things right because there was nothing Anna's big sister couldn't do.

She'd managed to make Anna believe she was the sun, after all. And the sun didn't just shine; it burned. Fearlessly.

The chair screeched on the floor as Anna stood.

Every councillor looked up, but Anna's sights were set on one person as she marched over and dropped into an empty seat beside him.

Hakon's glasses were so polished that Anna only saw her reflection in the green of his unreadable eyes. "Your Majesty," he greeted.

"Councillor Erling. You've been rather quiet."

"As have you, ma'am."

"Really? I feel like I'm about to lose my voice."

"Relatively quiet," he amended just as dryly.

For a moment, Anna caught a glimpse of the Hakon she knew; the one who used to say the wrong things at the right time instead of the wrong things at the wrong time.

Then he stiffly added, "Is there something you need from me?"

Anna picked up one of the papers in front of him. "That's a lot of feedback. Want to walk me through?"

"For starters, you misspelled 'preferential'."

"Did not. That's an E, right there. See?"

"That is the trademark squiggle you use to leave yourself a plausible exit."

"Blasphemy, don't know what you're talking about, off with your head." She reached for his cup out of habit. Faltered. Committed. "Can I have some of your tea?"

"It's—"

She gagged. "Hot! And it's coffee!"

"Black, too." Hakon manoeuvred the cup away from her twitching fingers.

"It tastes like tar!"

"How would you know what tar tastes like?"

"You don't want to know." Anna fanned her scalded tongue. God, she missed Elsa so badly. "I probably did need that caffeine hit, but when did you start drinking coffee? We hate it."

"You hate it," he said. Then added indifferently: "Ma'am."

Now the taste in her mouth was far more unpleasant than that of tar-like coffee.

Don't be surprised if you find Councillor Erling a little… difficult to work with, Elsa had advised soon after making Anna ambassador. He doesn't like a lot of people.

Anna had laughed at her sister's melodrama. Then she'd actually met the man.

Never in Anna's life had she laid eyes on someone so visibly spiteful, or someone she had so quickly learned to hate back. Hakon Erling hadn't even tried to hide his disdain for everything, least of all Anna. He'd lorded the twelve years he had over her like it justified his arrogance. Like it was a law of the universe that he was always right. The nerve! The size of his inflated round head!

Then, despairingly, Anna discovered that Hakon Erling was always right.

He could read a thirty-page trade agreement and summarise its key points before Elsa was even halfway. He had a photographic memory for every dignitary's name, face, nervous ticks, political leanings, dietary requirements, and even their mother's cousin's stepbrother's birthday. The mere sight of his name on the list of attendees made kings sweat, because there were tavern tales of Hakon Erling's legendary tendency to be halfway back to Arendelle before the hosts sobered up and properly comprehended that they had somehow agreed to another year of tariff-free trade. In writing.

Hakon Erling was brilliant. He was also absolutely dreadful at leaving good impressions.

Which was where Anna had come in.

Chocolates and birthday cards—and one time, even a pony—began arriving on top of the tariff cuts. They started off debriefing with Elsa, then eventually with just the two of them over a pot of tea. Except their meetings always ran hours longer than necessary because Anna couldn't stay on topic and Hakon couldn't stop correcting her on every little thing, and they'd guzzle down too much tea and wind up miserably sleep-deprived in the carriage the next morning, knocking shoulders and blaming each other for everything. Yet Anna had never doubted that she only had to shoot a desperate look across the ballroom for Hakon to roll his eyes and come over to rescue her from another zealous dignitary waltzing her to an early grave.

Maybe she was the only one who had thought Hakon would actually be proud to see her crowned. And if he couldn't see her as both Anna and the Queen of Arendelle, it left her no choice but to choose.

Sitting up straighter, Anna crossed one leg over the other. "Lifting the embargo with Weselton is going to take a lot of work. I want to know what you think."

"Do you really?"

Across the table, Councillor Davidsen loudly cleared his throat.

Anna forced herself to focus. "I do. Are you going to make me regret it?

Hakon straightened some documents and didn't look up. Nor did he answer her question. "I can depart for Weselton in three days. I believe I can convince the Duke to part with a crate of the improved crossbows themselves, on top of giving us the blueprints."

"I heard they only take modified bolts. Think you can get us some of those, too?"

"Please don't patronise me."

"Wouldn't dream of it." A thought occurred to Anna. "I'll make sure your mother is well looked after while you're gone."

"My mother is capable of looking after herself."

In the end, it was this one blatant lie that shattered Anna's resolve.

"Hakon… come on." She reached out to touch his arm.

He snatched it away as if burned.

Anna had grown up hearing go away, but this was the first time she had actually seen it. She stood up. "I'll… leave it to you, then. Find me when you've finished writing up the agreement."

"Wait. There is one more matter to discuss." Hakon's expression was eerily neutral, as if he hadn't just acted like her touch had stained his soul. "If we are correct and Weselton is also under a similar threat from the Southern Isles, then the value of our seafood exports would pale next to that. The Duke will choose gold over the promise of long-term gain."

"Then give him gold. Our budget is in surplus thanks to Elsa, and we all know how well you haggle."

Fisker spoke up. "Your Majesty, I believe Councillor Erling is implying we would do well to safeguard our wealth for the same reason Weselton would so desperately seek to increase theirs."

"War is expensive," Roys reminded.

Anna frowned. "We're not at war yet."

"But the markets already are, ma'am," Davidsen said, his gruff voice patient. "Thanks to Caleb sending out those deranged demands all over the region, every nation will be preparing for the worst case scenario. They'll hoard their raw materials, see our lack thereof, and inflate their oil and ore prices to the stratosphere. As Erling said, seafood and many of our major exports will become impractical luxuries. The threat of war stagnates an economy long before the first blood is spilled; if we are not prudent with our gold from the very beginning, we may find ourselves struggling to finance our supply lines, and falling into debt."

Anna grimaced. She and Elsa had been too tired to finish their discussion of economics last night. "I get what you're saying, but we need iron for our weapons and armour. Weselton knows that. If gold is the only way they'll give it to us, then that's that."

"There are other ways to secure what we need," Hakon said. "I am merely asking for Your Majesty's permission to utilise those methods."

"What kind of methods?" Anna asked blankly. Then it clicked. "Wait—you're not suggesting we steal from them?"

"Of course not. I simply have certain leverage over some lords in the region."

"So now you want us to blackmail them? We're trying to form an alliance! Do you think Vesterland and Eldora will trust us if we go around treating people like another Caleb? If we cheat Weselton of their resources, they're either going to side with Caleb, or suffer those same financial issues Councillor Davidsen talked about. Then we'd have to help them anyway!"

"Not necessarily. An alliance is indeed necessary for the region's defence, but from a strategic point of view, Weselton is—"

"Don't," Anna growled, "say 'expendable'."

Hakon narrowed his eyes. "I was under the impression Your Majesty loathed the Duke of Weselton for his mistreatment of the princess."

"Yes, I hate him more than pickles. But if you think that's enough to turn me into a bully and abandon a territory that the past kings of Arendelle once protected, then you weren't paying attention when I opened our gates to the refugees. They don't have to be our people to be people."

Anna looked around the table. Elsa's absence was a gaping hole, but it was also a door left open, because You don't need to prove yourself to anyone.

"We can find a way to afford fair trade," she said firmly, "but what we can't afford is to make monsters of ourselves. If we start doing what we can instead of what we should, then we're just making the same mistake as my grandfather. And you know how that turned out."

Hakon's eyes were hard jades.

Surprisingly, it was Councillor Belland who said, "Heartening as your spirit may be, Your Majesty, the reality remains that optimism is not a viable currency. Arendelle must be prepared to fund a war."

Anna's felt hot and flustered but for a narrow strip of snowflakes on her wrist. What would Elsa do?

You have to trust me, Anna.

Her eyes landed on Councillor Davidsen's account records.

She had more than optimism. A whole lot more.

"I have an idea. And you're all going to hate it."

OoOoO

The first thing Elsa did when they made it to the other side was thrust her hand back into the diaphanous veil. Her fingers sank smoothly into the white, leaving behind a swirling trail of confusion.

Letting out an exhale of relief, she turned to see Ryder and Honeymaren rubbing their arms. The reindeers shook out their fur coats. Anna and Kristoff hadn't reacted the first time, so it hadn't occurred to Elsa that others might find the mist chilling. But many things were different about this second passage through the mist. It hadn't locked them in, for one.

It also hadn't parted at her touch.

The panic had struck hard and fast. Had the spirits and Ahtohallan shut her out again? Or was it because she wasn't holding Anna's hand and the bridge was incomplete? Anna believed that Elsa could find solutions and find herself—but what if she couldn't even find her way in?

Then Honeymaren had cautiously prodded her spear into the mist while Elsa stood ready to shield them from the ricochet… and they'd all gawked when the spearhead passed cleanly through.

It had taken Elsa a moment to find her voice again. "Go on… I'll be right behind you." Just in case she was the only one the mist intended to keep out.

Yet here they were.

The pounding in her head picked up a sharp rhythm. This is your fault, the voice said melodically.

"Maybe it's just a foggy day?" Ryder suggested nervously. "I mean, the Forest itself is looking kind of misty."

Kjekk whinnied. He had quavered so badly that Elsa had needed to dismount and walk him through the mist.

He doesn't realise you are the one he should fear.

Kjekk pushed his head against her shoulder, demanding comfort. Elsa found herself pressing her forehead to his. It wasn't watery and calm, and he wouldn't appreciate her ice giving him a solid form for prancing around. But his warmth summoned sunshine.

You always make everything better, her little sister had said, as if she wasn't the one who had reached up and filled Elsa's empty sky with stars.

Do the magic, do the magic!

Elsa rubbed her fingertips together. "Ready, Kjekk?"

Kjekk stopped trembling as a snow apple dangled in front of him. He tried to bite it. It dipped and danced away, leading him on a whimsical chase around the wagon. Elsa smiled, then turned to Honeymaren and Ryder. "Let's start by looking for Yelana. I believe the camp moved after I left for Arendelle. Can you find it?"

"Of course," Honeymaren replied, as Ryder scoffed in mock offence, "Is the sky blue? Ow!" Honeymaren had elbowed him.

Elsa looked ruefully up at the white expanse above them.

Then her world suddenly exploded into red and black.

Across the river, the giants stirred in broad daylight. Lavender flames blazed through the woods, ignoring every tantalising snow pile because she was back.

Hands on her shoulders, voices rankled with concern, a warm muzzle in her face.

Elsa sank to her knees with a ragged gasp. She couldn't open her eyes. It was too crowded inside and out. She bit down on a scream.

Breathe, Elsa, her father murmured.

No, don't get close, she thought lightheadedly. I don't want to hurt you.

Two breaths in, one out.

A gust encircled her, whipping through her hair and dress. Gale's winds did not tinker with music; they crashed and twisted and turned. And they pulled at her. Get up.

She remembered the cold. It was sharp and harsh and its bitter bite remained in her veins long after she and the ice collapsed. She didn't remember plummeting and sinking, but she remembered vividly the pulling, the carrying, the protecting. She remembered thinking, her cheek pressed to a watery mane, that she would not have been able to get up on her own.

Heat scampered up her arm, sizzling the whole way until she felt a tiny lick on her cheek.

"Hello, Bruni," Elsa mumbled. "I'm sorry… I just… need a moment."

The earth shook with heavy footsteps.

It had coursed and burned through each of them, too, but it was worse for her because their attempt to cut it off before it flooded over the bridge had only caused it to pool, lying in wait, and now she'd sunk into its depths. It was worse for her because she couldn't distinguish her pain from theirs. Worse because she was human. Worse because she didn't know that was not the worst of it.

Elsa burned.

"Everyone get back," she heard herself rasp. "Gale, please—"

A tempest whipped up around her. Only this time, it wasn't there to test her.

Elsa let go.

She didn't know how long it took for the blizzard to settle. By the time she managed to open her eyes, chest heaving, the shadows of three Earth Giants had engulfed their party. Ryder and Honeymaren struggled to placate Kjekk, who looked manically torn between running away and running towards Elsa.

Bruni tugged on her hair, wide eyes urgent. Get up. Look.

"Okay," Elsa breathed, cradling him to her chest as she tried to rise. The wind caught her when her legs buckled. "Thanks, Gale… but I'm sorry; I don't think I can—"

The tallest Earth Giant extended a colossal hand towards her. Elsa lost sight of Ryder and Honeymaren as it scooped her up and rose. She couldn't see much of anything, and so she closed her eyes and exhaled, letting herself go limp.

Bruni pulled worriedly on her thumb.

"I'm okay," she murmured. "You're not angry with me anymore?"

Gale caressed her cheek.

Not anger. Fear.

Elsa blearily opened her eyes. Then the giant unfurled its fingers, and her question dissolved into a gasp of wonder as the world spilled out before her.

The mist had gone as suddenly as her pain had come. Elsa saw the trees, the mountains, the caverns, the cliffs. She saw the scattered canvas of Northuldra camps, and the silhouette of a shipwreck in the distance. She saw the Enchanted Forest in its most enchanting state.

Then the giant brought her lower, and Elsa realised with rising dread what she couldn't see.

Water.

A/N: BEAUTIFUL ART ALERT! I commissioned the very talented princessmimoza on tumblr to draw something I could use as a cover for this fic because a) I was procrastinating, b) I hope it will keep me motivated to finish this story, and c) there's never enough Frozen fanart and ways to support artists. My only input was 'sisters looking badass please' and she performed sheer magic. A link to the full version is pinned at the top of my tumblr.

Finally, I can't thank you all enough for following this little project of mine. Every kind review and message reminds me of why I love to write fanfiction. I may be a writer, but only wonderful readers like you make me feel like a storyteller :) So thank you!