The Next Unknown
6 – It's Your Turn
OoOoO
Anna's snoring was like the crash of a waterfall—loud, monotonous, reliable. Its sudden absence, Kristoff had learned, was utterly terrifying. But tonight wasn't one of those nights.
Tonight, the high-ceilinged, sparsely furnished council chambers provided such brilliant acoustics that Kristoff had been able to hear her from the other end of the hallway. He found her sprawled sideways across the same armchair that had given him neck pain two nights ago, her limbs splayed over the sides, mouth gaping so wide that he could have dropped the whole cake inside. The bracelet on her wrist was the brightest thing in the room—Kai must also have found his queen fast asleep and left the lights off—and there was the scarf, clutched tight to Anna's chest like a child's favourite doll.
Kristoff had come prepared to carry her to bed, but now he just wanted to watch her sleep. Peacefully.
As soon as he sat down and started to eat, though, Anna stirred. "Kristoff…?"
"Mm hmph fiph."
She snapped to attention—Kristoff half-expected to see lightning in his wife's eyes as they honed in on the fork in his mouth. "Are you eating cake?"
He swallowed. "Your cake. But you weren't awake, so it's mine now."
The fork vanished from his hand. And suddenly the Queen of Arendelle was in his lap, yanking the cake towards her with the savagery of a wild boar. Kristoff felt his biceps engage with the effort of resisting her. It had taken months for him to learn how to stop offering to carry things for Anna—until the day she'd rescued old Mr. Olsen's wagon from a pothole and whisked it to the top of the steep slope before he had rolled up his sleeves.
"Give me my cake, husband!"
"Nuh uh. Hydrate first." He reached around her for the glass of water and watched it disappear like a spell. God forbid Anna do anything half-heartedly.
She thrust the empty glass back at him.
Satisfied, Kristoff handed her the cake. "You didn't skip dinner, did you?"
"Nope. This is even my second dessert of the day." She took a massive bite, then tipped her head back against his shoulder, icing-smeared lips lifting into a tantalising smile. "But I guess I wouldn't mind a third."
He still didn't understand how Kristoff of Nowhere In Particular had become Prince Kristoff of Arendelle, but what baffled him most was that he was allowed to be hers. He didn't understand how such a tiny person could hold within her more strength, love, and life than a hundred men, and still have room left for him. But he understood the way they both tilted their heads to the left; the warmth of her hands on his shoulders; the map formed by her freckles; the music of her giggle as his stubble grazed her cheek. He understood the shape of her handprint on his heart, and that he'd been a fool to think that he could wait until tomorrow to catch up with her.
"Guess what?" she murmured into his lips. "You're really stuck with me for life now."
"Woe me."
"I'm serious, Kristoff. I just gave away my dowry."
"Is that some kind of dress?"
Anna's laugh was a puff of warmth against his face. "You're kidding, right? Don't you remember the gold and gifts and all the, you know—shiny things Elsa tried to give to you and the trolls when we got married? That was a dowry; my dowry. The trolls only accepted the gemstones, and you refused everything else. You're, like, the first prince consort in Arendelle's history to turn down a queen's dowry."
"Aren't I the first prince consort in Arendelle's history?"
"Oh, now you know your stuff."
"Yeah, because that's relevant to me. Your dowry is not. What am I supposed to do with all that gold? I'm living in a castle, my ice harvesting job is now a means to be helpful rather than a means to survive, and I still have the fancy sled Elsa bought for me."
"That was for being my friend, you goof. The dowry is something you get for becoming my husband."
"Exactly—why on earth would you need to pay me for that?"
"It's supposed to symbolise that I'm, you know, a valuable bride!"
"That's pretty dumb."
"Kristoff Bjorgman, are you saying I'm not valuable?"
"I'm saying," Kristoff said, rolling his eyes, "that the best part of marrying you is supposed to be you. You're the prize, Anna. So it's stupid to advertise a mountain of gold instead."
She stared at him for a long moment. Then her face split into a broad smile like a ray of sunshine cutting through stormy clouds. "Aww. Thanks, honey. I kind of needed to hear that."
"Someone else I need to trip in the hallway?"
"Nope. I solved the problem. See, the council thinks we need to start being stingy with our money—but then I remembered we still had my dowry just sitting in the vaults. So I told them to spend it before digging into the treasury funds. You know what that means, Kristoff?"
"You're a wise and benevolent ruler?"
Anna set the cake on the floor and took his face in both her hands. "It means that if Arendelle isn't dirt-poor by the end of this war, it's only because I married a hopeless romantic."
A low hum resonated from his throat. "I assume you're going to take full credit for that."
"Oh, absolutely. Councillor Davidsen looked like he was going to pop an artery but everyone else looked impressed. Sort of. The new problem is, no one important will want to marry me without a decent dowry, so you're not allowed to get sick of me. If something happens to you…" Anna curled up against him. "Just promise me you'll be careful," she whispered. "Every day. Everything you do."
Kristoff blinked through the wisps of her hair. Then he wrapped all of himself around all of her, wishing vehemently that it was all it took to protect her—from war and death, and councillors heartlessly reminding her that something could easily happen to her husband and leave her widowed. Kristoff wished that he could promise that nothing would happen to him, and that he'd be by her side till a ripe old age, never leaving her alone for a single day.
He knew another person with whom he shared this wish.
"What are you doing?" Anna asked when he started plucking pins out of her hair.
"Do you have a hairband on you?"
She slipped one off of her wrist and handed it over her shoulder, shooting him a curious smile as she caught on. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?"
"I've practiced on Kjekk's tail."
"Brave man. You didn't get your face kicked in?"
"Almost. I actually couldn't get anywhere near him. Ended up looping some rope around Sven's antlers."
Anna laughed and turned around in his lap so he could work more easily, her long hair burning like the flames in the fireplace. "And is Sven as good at braiding as he is at charades?"
"Nope. He was useless." Kristoff drew her hair back and split it into three. Left, cross, right, cross. "Good thing someone who is dreadful at charades but brilliant at braiding came along to teach me."
"… Elsa taught you how to braid?"
"Why is that so surprising?"
"Um."
"Yeah, okay, I get it. I wasn't expecting it either. She walked in on me practicing and scared the life out of me."
May I? his sister-in-law had asked amusedly; a redundant question seeing as the ropes were already in her hands after Kristoff had yelped and thrown them into the air. Her deft hands had blurred together. This is a French braid. Dutch braid. Pull-through braid. Waterfall braid. The symmetry of Anna's pigtails would be difficult for a beginner; I suggest you start with a simple three-strand braid. Here, hold your fingers like this…
At the end, Elsa had smiled shyly and asked, Would you like to try it for real now? He'd thought it meant they were going to find Anna, but Elsa had shaken out her hair and sat down in front of him. And Kristoff had been overcome by an emotion not unlike the first time he had seen her ice palace.
"Miss her?"
"Mhmm." Anna drew her legs up and hugged them, the snowflake bracelet pressed to her lips. "Oskar called me an idiot today. I wanted to hug him."
"You wanted to hug him for calling you an idiot," Kristoff clarified.
She smacked him on the knee. "No, dummy. He said I shouldn't have let Elsa go if I was going to miss her so much. It was just… it's cruel. I miss Elsa even though I know exactly where she is. But Oskar… sometimes I look at him and I can't tell if he understands that Sofia isn't coming back."
Kristoff hadn't been sure he was doing the right thing, inviting a twelve year old to see death up close. Oskar hadn't flinched or cried or even appeared surprised. Instead, he'd stared at his sister's body for a long time, and when he had eventually lifted a hesitant hand, it wasn't to touch her; he had touched the ice. The same way Kristoff had seen Anna sneak into the study to drape a blanket over a sleeping Elsa; a younger sibling looking out for their big sister. Except Anna had wanted to keep Elsa warm, and Oskar had wanted to check that Sofia was cold enough.
"I think he understands," Kristoff said simply.
Anna's shoulders slumped. "Then that's even worse. He calls his father by his title, Kristoff. I don't know if Sofia was a friend or someone who worked for his family; but if Oskar thought of her as his sister, she might have been the only one who actually cared about him. And I don't think he's let himself grieve her properly… that's why I asked him to plan the funeral rites. I thought it would be a chance for him to do something for Sofia and his people; give him permission to go there, you know? He's always on our case for treating him like a kid, so I wanted to—"
She suddenly rocketed to her feet, ripping the half-finished braid out of Kristoff's hands. He made a futile swipe for her unravelling hair. Missed.
"I asked a twelve year old boy to plan his sister's funeral!" Anna gasped. "I'm a horrible person. Why didn't I think this through? Will this scar him for life? He's probably crying into his pillow right now. I'm going to—"
This time, Kristoff managed to grab Anna's hand—there would be no catching her otherwise. "Hey, hey. Oskar's fine. Your little project isn't hurting him."
"You don't know that!" she wailed.
"I do, actually, because I found him in the stable when I went to see Sven and Olaf. He had pencils everywhere, drawing some kind of boat. The little rascal had the nerve to tell me to stand still so he could use my shoes as reference."
"He did?"
"Yes. And he kept complaining about how you were using him for slave labour. No sign of tears or trauma."
"That's a good sign, right?"
"It's a good sign."
"I did the right thing?"
Kristoff pulled her back into his lap. "You always do, Anna."
She went unusually quiet at that. Kristoff focused on her hair and tried to salvage what he could, because he was not starting that braid from scratch again.
"Where do you get your shoes from, honey?"
"Ice harvesters have a network of Sami tailors. Why? You want a pair?"
"Yeah, for Oskar—so you two can match."
Screw the braid. Kristoff wrapped his arms around Anna and mercilessly tickled her.
Her pensive mood was instantly shredded by yelps and snorts and desperate cries of "Nonono—aha! I yield! Gah! Uncle! I said uncle!"
Grinning, Kristoff tossed his wriggling wife over one shoulder and headed for the door. "Let's get Her Majesty to bed before she makes another stupid statement."
"Wait, I still need to finish—"
"Sleeping. That's the last thing you were doing, and the only thing on your agenda until the sun comes up tomorrow."
"But—"
"You're doing an Elsa."
That made her grumble and slacken so that she hung like a sack of potatoes.
Kristoff smirked and adjusted his grip. Anna had been so good about delegating and managing her new workload that he'd feared he would never get the chance to whip out the ace card she'd given him permission to use.
"At least I migrated to something comfortable," she protested. "Elsa would have passed out at the table."
"That bar is set too low."
"Also, I'm only this knackered because I spent the day teaching the council how to cooperate—which Elsa said only I could do."
"Real proud of you, honey." Kristoff reached for the door.
"And Elsa said that—she's back!"
"Pretty sure she'd have to be physically here to say that."
"No, it's—Kristoff, put me down. Please." There was a breathless edge to Anna's voice.
Setting her down, Kristoff realised his wife was glowing in the dark. No, that wasn't it—Elsa's bracelet was the one shining like a beacon.
Then the windows on the far side of the room also began to lighten.
"No," Anna moaned suddenly. "No, no, no… not again, please…"
Kristoff reached for her just as the brocade curtains blew apart, and a comet of ice streaked into the room. It headed straight for them—straight for Anna—and circled her like an embrace. Then there was a crack, a snap, a frosty flash, and suddenly large diamond crystals hovered in the air.
Kristoff barely noticed any of it because Anna had dropped to the floor, eyes squeezed shut as she pulled her scarf so tightly around her that he worried she couldn't breathe.
He dropped to his knees beside her. "Anna, hey—it's okay. It's just a message from Elsa. Look." He pried her trembling hands away so they could both see the bracelet twinkling like a promise. "See? Elsa's okay. Olaf's okay. You're okay, Anna. C'mere."
With a muffled sob, she collapsed into his arms. Kristoff helplessly kissed the top of her head, felt the braids he'd made fall apart as he rubbed her back, and added another thing to the list of things he couldn't protect Anna from.
He couldn't even protect himself from it. He had to stare fiercely at the floating ice crystals to keep himself from being drawn back into the memory of being lost in the woods, certain that Elsa's sculptures ought to be here somewhere, but finding only mounds of crumpled, melting ice, flaking away in the autumn breeze.
Kristoff was so focused on the crystals that he momentarily forgot they were supposed to be a message. Then he stared even harder.
"Anna. Honey. You need to see this."
She raised her head, still holding the bracelet close to her heart. The crystals' glow pooled in the wet shine of her eyes.
"Look—air, fire, earth."
Anna blinked, and craned her neck. "Where's water?"
OoOoO
The cold bothered her. The sight of her breaths condensing before her was one she had never seen before—one she'd never expected to see—and it mesmerised her. That was why it had taken so long for her to realise her breathing had become shallow. She couldn't feel her hands. Her legs refused to move.
She needed to tell Anna that she'd gone too deep. Had to force her freezing fingers open and send the message.
But there was something else Anna needed to know, too. She had to choose.
It was cold. She was cold.
Too late, the voice taunted.
A glimmer of light appeared in the encroaching darkness. Fire, she pleaded. But it was far more than that. It was the sun. Frozen.
"Anna? No… no… not again…"
Behind her, metal sang as a sword pulled free of its sheath. But that didn't matter anymore because she couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't think.
Couldn't say goodbye.
She couldn't even close her eyes. Couldn't look away as the darkness drew nearer, but so very slowly, refusing to spare her the last sight of her worst nightmare. Shards of ice crept through her chest, searching for her heart, and her only solace as the final breath passed her frosted lips was the knowledge that they would find it already frozen numb.
A snowflake drifted onto her trembling lips, and Elsa snapped awake.
Thatched roof overhead. Furry mattress beneath her. Light.
Dropping a hand over her eyes, she took in a deep, shaky breath. Anna is okay. I am okay. Arendelle is safe and everything is—
The Nokk.
She shot upright just as a cloth slapped into her face.
"Don't sit up so fast," said a curt voice.
"… Yelana?"
"Wipe your face. You look like a ghost."
Disorientation was shunted aside by the instinct to obey that dry, authoritative voice. The coolness of the cloth on her flushed skin rekindled a snap of ice in her chest, seeping in deep—
Warmth tumbled into her lap, all knobbly limbs and coarse fur.
"Hello, Bucky." Elsa gave the baby reindeer a small smile, tapping his nose.
Bucky brayed happily.
On the other side of the hut, Yelana rummaged through a chest and said without looking up, "It should be 'Birki'. At least that name has a meaning."
"'Bucky' does have meaning; it means Ryder should have known better than to leave the naming to Anna. He responds to it, so he must like it. Isn't that right, Bucky?"
He licked her hand.
"It's not the name he responds to," Yelana retorted, finding a jar of brown powder. "It's your voice; you could call him Doavki and he would still come running. You've spoiled him."
"Doavki," Elsa repeated, filing away the new word. "What does that mean?"
"Idiot." Yelana didn't blink when Elsa sputtered, merely adding a dash of the jar's contents to a wooden bowl. "Hungry?"
"S-Sorry? No, thank you, I'm actually—"
Yelana thrust the bowl at her. Knowing better than to refuse, Elsa accepted it with a murmur of gratitude.
The broth was green and thick. Bucky's curious sniff turned into a whine of displeasure. Elsa was only able to keep from wrinkling her nose because Anna had hated trying new foods as a child, and so Elsa had mastered the art of pretending that everything was scrumptious.
"Thank you," she gasped out after forcing down the last dregs. "It's very… nice."
"It tastes like moss grown between a troll's toes. But nothing warms the body better, or faster."
Elsa started to say that she wasn't cold, but then she saw Yelana nonchalantly brush white powder off her shoulders.
Everything in the hut was coated with snow.
Mortified, Elsa flicked her wrist and vaporised the mess. "I am so sorry—"
"You should be."
Neither Yelana's expression nor intonation changed, and yet those three flatly spoken words were enough to make Elsa freeze up in a way that she hadn't since she was eight years old. Since the last time she had been properly chastised by her parents.
"You're angry," she said quietly.
"Hardly."
"I am truly sorry, Yelana. I didn't mean to disturb the Forest again. You must have been worried when the mist returned—"
"I have known the Forest all my life, and the mist's protection for half that." Yelana's granite-grey eyes fixed on Elsa. "I fear neither. Don't apologise for that which you do not understand."
Elsa didn't know what to say, so she lowered her gaze and bit her lip. She heard Yelana leave the hut.
Bucky gazed up at her with huge, trusting brown eyes.
"You must be the only one I haven't managed to upset so far," Elsa murmured, fondling the reindeer's soft ears. "Shall we go and see what damage I've caused this time?"
She exited—and walked straight into Kjekk's backside. It nearly cost her a shattered ribcage.
"Kjekk, it's me! It's me." Elsa hastily seized his reins.
The wild fear in Kjekk's eyes receded as he took her in. Then he was all over her, thrusting his head into her hands and hair and snorting out warm breaths that made her laugh in spite of herself.
"Yes, hello to you, too. Did you appoint yourself my personal guard while I was resting?"
"He did," said Honeymaren, approaching with a woven basket on her hip. "It was quite annoying, actually. We had to distract him with an apple every time we wanted to check on you."
"Can't blame him for being overprotective." Ryder took the basket from Honeymaren and transferred it onto the back of the wagon. "You were already conked out when the Earth Giant brought you back down, so we thought you were, like, dead or—ack!"
Honeymaren had kicked her brother and sent him stumbling down to one knee. "Just say 'we were worried about you so it's good to see that you're okay', you tactless oaf."
"You didn't have to break my leg!"
"It was a nudge, crybaby!"
"Who are you calling a—"
"I'm sorry," Elsa said quickly, stepping between the siblings. "And thank you for taking care of me."
Pulling a face at his sister, Ryder grumbled, "That was all Yelana. She stormed off that way if you want to catch her."
"I would like to… but I think she's upset with me."
"It's hard to tell if Yelana is ever happy with anyone," Honeymaren pointed out.
The camp was too quiet. Elsa could tell that it was late afternoon, which meant dinner preparations and gatherings should be well under way. Yet, aside from Honeymaren and Ryder bickering, she saw only children and elders sitting quietly outside the huts, sorting the contents of large baskets into smaller ones.
"Where is everyone?" she asked hesitantly.
"Out working." Ryder clambered back onto the wagon. "Time's against us, so we need all able hands on deck. It's cold, but not cold enough that decay won't set it."
Nineteen bodies on her ice.
Honeymaren seemed to sense her apprehension. "Just show her, Ryder."
Glancing at Elsa, he reached into the nearest basket and held out a lifeless whitefish.
Lutefisk, Elsa thought automatically. Then it hit her.
"All of them? Every basket…?"
"Yep," Ryder confirmed, dropping the sample back into the basket. "Hundreds, maybe even thousands of dead fish all over the place. For obvious reasons." Then he hastily waved his hands in front of him. "N-Not that it's not your fault all the rivers and gullies dried up!"
"But it is," Elsa said softly. She could freeze the fish to last for months and distil her ice into drinkable water, but those were not adequate amends. And this was not the first time her carelessness had endangered others.
Honeymaren and Ryder glanced at each other. Then Ryder crouched down so he no longer towered over Elsa, and asked, very seriously, "Do you want chocolate?"
She blinked. "I beg your pardon?"
"Chocolate. You know—the sweet stuff that tastes like burnt bark?"
"I'm… not sure we're thinking of the same thing."
"Ignore him." Honeymaren rolled her eyes. "But we do have chocolate. The nice ones you like, with the gooey stuff inside it? Salted something?"
"Salted caramel," Elsa said. "How did you know?"
Ryder pulled out a familiar box from his pack. "We were given a very specific protocol to follow if you ever looked like you needed cheering up. Do you need cheering up?"
Smiling to herself, Elsa shook her head. "Not anymore."
"We're doing it anyway." Honeymaren hopped onto the wagon and sat with her legs dangling over the edge. Ryder joined her, leaving a space for Elsa between them. They both looked at her expectantly.
"Really?"
"Don't make us say it," Honeymaren warned.
Ryder cleared his throat. "Cuddle close…"
"Oh God," Elsa laughed. "Please stop."
"Scoooooch in."
"I'm coming, I'm coming!"
The siblings shared a hi-five.
Passing the chocolates between them, Elsa recounted the boats, the refugees, the freezing of the fjord. Unlike Anna, though, Honeymaren and Ryder weren't fazed when she described the rift it had created between her and the other spirits.
"Honestly, the real shocker isn't that the Nokk didn't come to you—it's that it even likes you in the first place. Which doesn't mean you're, you know, unlikeable; it just dislikes everyone. Bit like Yelana, really." Ryder bit into a shell-shaped chocolate. "Huh. Now this is like bark, but with a glob of sap inside."
"My brother is a termite," Honeymaren sighed. "He's right, though. Our people live in harmony with the spirits, but respect and fear go hand in hand—especially when it comes to the Nokk. It rarely materialised to us, but we were all raised on the same cautionary tale: never try to ride the Nokk."
"You won't be able to get off and it'll jump into water to drown you," Ryder supplied genially.
"But what the Nokk is doing now is quite strange. The water sustained us even when the spirits were enraged by what your grandfather had done, and that was far worse than you using your powers to save people's lives. Now we can barely find drinking water, and even if the rivers replenished over time, the fish are all gone."
Elsa hung her head. "I don't understand either, and I'm sorry. All I know is the Nokk was frustrated with me for interfering with the course of nature. The other spirits withdrew from me, too, so they must feel the same way about it."
Ryder deliberated over his next chocolate. "I dunno about that. They seemed pretty happy to see you yesterday."
Yesterday.
Suddenly, the pieces Elsa had previously been too addled to connect rushed into place. "Did you say there was no sign of the mist when you left for Arendelle?"
"Of course. Otherwise we would have gone straight to you."
Honeymaren and Ryder had arrived the morning after. That night, by the fireplace with Anna and Kristoff, Elsa had still been connected to the spirits. She'd fallen asleep with the Nokk's displeasure chafing against her subconsciousness; yet by the time she'd woken up, there had been nothing at all, from all four spirits. She had assumed it meant they would continue alienating her until she sought forgiveness.
But Ryder was right—they had come to her as soon as she had returned to the Forest. Urgently.
Not anger. Fear.
"The spirits put up the mist to protect me. That's why I stopped sensing them."
"Protect you from what, though?"
The pain. It had struck her down only after she had passed through the mist. It was a pain Bruni, Gale, and the Earth Giants had understood.
A pain the Nokk had experienced first-hand.
A chill shot up her spine. Elsa shut her eyes and called desperately into the void. For the second time, no hoofbeats answered… but this time, she didn't even get an angry snort. This time, she didn't think the Nokk heard her at all.
The box of chocolates slid off Elsa's lap and fell to the ground.
"The Nokk isn't simply hiding from me," she whispered in anguish. "It's gone."
OoOoO
"Oh, shucks," Anna muttered.
The worst part wasn't that her hand was stuck—it was that her hand was stuck because she'd missed.
"Good afternoon, Your Majesty."
"Thank God you're back, Mona—can you help me… oh! Councillor Belland. Hi." Anna hid her hand behind her back, then belatedly realised that it only drew attention to the child's artwork glued to it. "Picking up Dagny? I think she's playing with her friends in the yard."
Councillor Belland stepped into the classroom. Everything from his impeccable attire to his dignified age made him look out of place within the explosively colourful walls. "Yes, I found her navigating the seven seas. I was told the captain cannot abandon her ship, and so I must wait until the voyage has ended."
Anna nodded sagely. "Oh, definitely. A captain can't ever abandon ship, period."
"An admirable yet ambitious statement, ma'am."
Anna hated that she couldn't fidget with her hands. "Would you like to sit while you wait? Let me get you a proper chair; these kiddy ones aren't good for your leg."
"Thank you, Your Majesty."
"No worries." Only when Anna sat back down did she notice that offering Belland the teacher's stool had resulted in her being laughably dwarfed in the low, children-sized stools. Was that somehow unqueenly, too?
An awkward silence descended.
It wasn't that Anna disliked Councillor Belland, or was intimidated by him… well, fine, maybe a little. It was just that she didn't really know him. Her individual meetings with Councillors Roys and Davidsen were always chatty, and while Fisker tried too hard to please her, Anna could at least tell what he was thinking.
Councillor Belland, though, was an anomaly; an eerily competent anomaly who performed his duties without question or error, and brought to mind an eagle. Sometimes Anna forgot that he was in the room at all. When she inevitably remembered, though, it was hard to shake off the feeling that Belland was silently judging her every move, waiting for her to make a big mistake.
She wasn't being fair. Right now, he was just a man waiting to take his granddaughter home from school.
"I have actually been waiting for a chance to speak with you, ma'am," he told her.
Darn it.
"Sorry, I hope you didn't wander around the castle looking for me. I just saw a free slot in my schedule and thought it would be nice to pop into the village. I know I'm supposed to be back by now, but the kids were doing arts and craft and I couldn't help myself."
Councillor Belland didn't need to know that Anna had created that free slot by getting up at the crack of dawn (the screaming clock of Oaken's own invention had only succeeded in waking Kristoff, who had in turn groggily carried her over to the dressing table before crawling back into bed himself). Any staff or ministers hoping to catch her between appointments had needed to deliver their news while jogging alongside her. She'd even asked Gerda to offer coffee to all the subjects waiting to petition her in court in the hopes that they would talk faster when they reached the front of the line.
As soon as she had completed her duties for the day, Anna had sprinted to her room, thrown on her riding gear, and had been halfway down the trellis on the south wall—her personal shortcut to the stables—before she remembered that Kjekk was with Elsa.
Break this if you need me, Elsa had said about the bracelet, which was reassuring and all—but how on earth was Anna supposed to know when Elsa needed her? Did the message mean 'I'm okay and know exactly what I'm doing; don't worry' or 'There's something really wrong with the water spirit and I can't do this without you'?
A bridge had two sides, but sometimes Anna couldn't tell when she was allowed to cross it.
"Your Majesty?"
She realised she had been staring vacuously at Councillor Belland. "I'm so sorry; I completely zoned out. What did you just say?"
"You appear to have a sheet of paper glued to your hand."
Anna coughed. "About that… Councillor Roys and the teachers are in a meeting, you see, so I figured I'd help them finish mounting the children's artwork onto cardboard so we can hang it on the walls. But then I saw a mosquito! On the table! So I slapped it and… the good news is, this new glue we're importing from Vesterland is the real deal. Real sticky. The bad news is that the mosquito got away and I can't seem to get Sara's drawing off my hand without tearing it."
"I see," Belland replied shortly. "Might I offer my assistance?"
Of all the people who could have found her in this state. Anna reluctantly held out her hand.
Putting on his glasses, Belland respectfully took it and tugged at the artwork. It reminded Anna of Elsa fretting over the splinter, and she fought back a grin.
"It does appear to be quite stubborn. My apologies if this causes you any discomfort, ma'am."
"It's okay; don't worry about me. Just be careful of the drawing. Sara and I spent forever mixing that specific shade of blue for the water. Then Maja came over and boom—she had it in two seconds flat."
Belland gently held Anna's little finger down as he peeled back a corner. "I wasn't aware there was a new student or teacher."
"Oh, there isn't; today was a special lesson. We thought it'd be good for the children to understand what happened in the fjord the other day, so Kristoff and I asked if any of the refugees were willing to come down to the school and talk to the kids—not in detail, of course. Just so they know why there are suddenly so many new faces. It was even better than we'd hoped, because Maja turned it into an art lesson. She drew a storybook on the spot! At the end, she asked the kids to paint 'the coolest thing you've ever seen'. Guess what Dagny drew?"
Belland chuckled. "The sextant."
"Yes! And get this: she even drew it to scale."
The diagrams Oskar had shoved at her this morning had been to scale, too. He'd scampered off before she could ask if he wanted to visit the school with her, but he had waved back when she'd called "Your shoelaces are undone!" So she at least knew he hadn't been running away from her.
Belland had managed to free all of Anna's fingers. He was methodical and precise, unafraid to apply force where it was required. His hands weren't yet wrinkled with age, but Anna spotted calluses that resembled Mattias's more than Kristoff's. Her gaze wandered over to his cane.
"You wanted to talk to me about something, Councillor?"
"That is correct."
Anna waited. And waited. But Belland offered nothing else as he focused on her hand.
"Is it about the, um, terms I drafted in the agreement with Weselton?"
"Your Majesty is referring to the one requiring the Duke to apologise to Princess Elsa in a manner that will leave his toupee to the mercy of gravity?"
"Is that what it's called? A toupee? And yes—that one."
"I took some liberties in refining the choice of words, but was mindful to preserve their original meaning. The final draft is on your desk for your review."
"Thank you. Did Ha… Councillor Erling give his input?"
Belland nodded without looking up. "We both agree it is a mutually beneficial agreement. Weselton would be foolish to turn down such a generous sum of gold."
Anna smiled ruefully. "You can say it's reckless, you know. I won't get mad."
"You are the queen, which means that all of Arendelle's assets are at your disposal. You need not explain yourself to anyone."
"I know that, but between me jumping into the fjord and giving up my dowry, I understand why the council would think I'm…" Anna searched for the word. "… unconventional?"
"Leadership takes many forms, Your Majesty."
Anna wondered at the vague tone. Then Belland peeled away the final corner of the artwork, and her hand was free. "Oh my god, thank you. You are a star."
"It is my pleasure." Belland studied Sara's painting. "If I'm not mistaken, this figure appears to be Princess Elsa."
"It is! It's Elsa saving Arendelle from the flood." Anna leaned in and pointed at the splotch of white. "See those little squiggles? That's the Nokk. Isn't it cute?"
Belland looked over at the other paintings scattered on the classroom's floor. "I see quite a few children had the same idea."
"Of course; we did tell them to draw the coolest thing they've ever seen. What could possibly top the sight of Elsa charging down on a magical water horse and saving the kingdom in a dress like that? I'm still shattered that I didn't get to see it with my own eyes."
Belland turned to take in the classroom. "This is the new wing that was completed last week."
"Hard to believe, right? All those years in the making… Elsa put so much work into this."
"Does that not make Your Majesty wonder why the princess did not attend the opening ceremony?"
"She said she was tired and wanted to stay in." Anna paused. "Is something on your mind, Councillor?"
Belland's face gave nothing away, but there was a shift in his voice. "Queen Elsa was a good and kind ruler," he began. "Children illustrate and re-enact her heroics. Adults who have known a lifetime of natural ice now trust only in the strength and security of hers. Her reputation alone has sent wealthy nations tripping over themselves to earn Arendelle's favour; one might even argue it has preserved our borders. Only months ago, the people watched her stop a force of nature in its tracks in order to protect their homes." His gaze levelled on Anna. "Then she abdicated."
Of course it would come back to this. She should have known.
"And you think that was a mistake," Anna deduced.
"If I may ask, Your Majesty—has it ever occurred to you that your sister may have intended to set you up for failure?"
No longer fazed by the fact that he sat three heads taller than her, Anna raised her chin. "You know what, Councillor Belland? Why don't you do us both a favour and get to the point of what I think you're trying to say?"
"And what point does Your Majesty believe I am making?"
"That Elsa passed the throne to me just so she can steal it back later, after I've screwed up enough to prove she's the only one fit to rule Arendelle."
Finally, Belland smiled. It was a thin, ghostly smile; neither pleased nor mocking. Hollow, Anna thought. He was entertaining her.
"Your sister is King Agnarr's rightful heir and has all the bearings of a monarch. Yet she demonstrated—on her coronation day, no less—that she is capable of freezing the entire kingdom in an everlasting winter, be it out of fear or malice. Had she been unable to bring her powers under control, Arendelle would have starved. Who can blame the citizenry for questioning whether Arendelle was truly safe in the hands of a queen whose capacity to do either great good or tremendous harm fluctuates with her emotions? Naturally, there was a faction that favoured you on the Crocus Throne."
"Well then, they should have known better. I was happy as Elsa's right hand."
"Yet their doubt was a reality that Queen Elsa could not have changed, no matter how sincerely she worked to win back their trust. By delivering your coronation on her own terms, she displayed magnanimity and humility. After the kingdom sees you struggle in your new role, she will selflessly give up her 'freedom' and return to lead a populace whose loyalties are finally united under the one crown—the one once more sitting on her head."
Anna was silent for a long time. Then she stood up, picked her way through the arena of paintings drying on the classroom floor, and retrieved one.
Returning to Belland, she held it out to him. "Do you know what this is?"
He wiped his glasses before taking it. "It is a painting of a little girl; her back, specifically."
"Can you guess who that girl is?"
"I need not guess; I have watched her grow up. It is Princess Elsa."
"Who do you think drew it?"
Belland handed it back to her. "Her younger sister, I imagine."
Anna nodded and dabbed glue on the back of the painting, centring it on a sheet of cardboard. "It's one of my first memories: following her. It wasn't hard; she never left me behind, no matter how slow or annoying I was. When our parents took us out, she always held my hand. If I tripped, she'd be the first one to pick me up. If we fought, I'd only have to turn around and she'd be there, always close enough to make sure I was okay even though she was mad at me. Even when we were separated, she tried to protect me."
She smoothed down the edges, feeling the ridges of dried paint beneath her palms. "My sister is my hero. She always has been, and I don't think even a sword held to my neck could convince me otherwise, let alone a few fancy words. But you're smart enough to know that, aren't you, Councillor?"
Belland inclined his head. "You flatter me, Your Majesty."
"And I honestly can't decide if you're over- or underestimating me," Anna countered dryly. "Anyone could take one look at me and Elsa, and see that the dumbest way to incite civil war is to try and turn us against each other. Yet here you are, accusing my sister of treason and practically begging to be thrown in the dungeons." She crossed her arms. "So, one more time: get to the point, Councillor Belland."
The silence this time transcended awkwardness.
Finally, Belland removed his glasses. "I am impressed, Queen Anna. But you still have not properly answered my question: do you know why Princess Elsa did not make an appearance last week, when she is the one who singlehandedly reformed the education system and made this expansion possible?"
Anna's eyebrows pulled together. "I told you: she said she was…" Her voice trailed off.
She usually only fell for it when Elsa pretended to be fine when she wasn't. She'd never had to suspect the opposite.
"You're kidding me," Anna groaned. "Elsa, you stinker."
Belland's lips twitched. "I see Your Majesty understands."
"She wasn't tired. She wanted to come, but she didn't because she's an idiot and thought it would take the spotlight off of me. Like that matters!"
"Perhaps not to you, ma'am. It matters a great deal to those who saw no reason for Queen Elsa to abdicate, and believe that you are merely a figurehead."
Anna narrowed her eyes. "Didn't we already establish that this sister rivalry thing would get you nowhere? Flipping it around won't change anything."
Belland smiled faintly. "The princess was right: you cannot see it."
"You talked to Elsa? When?"
"She may have asked me to guide you while she is away, and to teach you how to be an effective queen."
"That makes no sense. She's already doing that—"
"'There are things Anna needs to learn, and I can't be the one to show her,'" Belland recited. "Like the fact that the bond between the two of you becomes irrelevant if the people of Arendelle decide among themselves that you are unfit to rule."
Anna stared. "The people of Arendelle—our people—would never—"
"Yet you cannot afford to be unprepared, ma'am. Just as you must be prepared to send Arendellian soldiers into war, and make the decision to sacrifice five thousand men so ten thousand can retreat. You must be prepared to pass down and bear witness to death sentences. As the protector of this kingdom, your command will one day end lives in order to preserve those of your people. You need to brace yourself for the reality that you will face problems that won't bend to your most powerful solution: self-sacrifice. For you are Queen of Arendelle, and while you are a captain who would never abandon her ship, you do not yet have the mental fortitude to fire upon another."
Belland paused, then added, "Princess Elsa has been avoiding me because we both had the foresight to see the good and the bad in her abdication. But she finally came to me because she lacks the heart to teach you these harsh realities herself."
Of course not. It would have ruined Elsa. The same way it was ruining Anna now, to understand the tears that had been in Elsa's eyes when she'd curtseyed and kissed her hand and whispered My queen. Because Elsa knew what it meant—what it took—to be the queen, and loathed herself for delivering her little sister straight into its maw. Father must have been the one to teach Elsa those lessons.
Why was it always so hard to do the right thing?
"She asked you to make me."
Belland's eyebrows rose. "I'm sorry?"
"It's something our father used to say. A ruler is first born, then chosen; but the only way to be a truly good leader is to be made into one." Anna looked up. "My parents gave birth to me, my sister chose me, and now you're here to make sure I earn it."
"Or this might all be a masquerade, and I am actually positioning myself as the devil on your shoulder."
"Is that the first lesson? Figuring out if I should trust you?"
"It may be." Belland reached for his cane and rose slowly to his feet. He still loomed over her, but for the first time since her coronation, Anna felt like they were on equal footing. "Princess Elsa asked me for a favour, after all. Unless you demand my assistance, Your Majesty, it is within my right to refuse."
Anna's eyes widened. Then she let out a short laugh. "Oh no; I'm not falling for that one. If it takes an order to make you do something, then it means I definitely shouldn't trust you."
Belland's smile sharpened. "You are a quick study, ma'am."
"Uh huh. But…?"
"But I will need to see more."
More. Always more.
Anna squared her shoulders. "Alright. Try me."
"Princess Elsa said that while she admits to being your shield, you have always been your own sword. I'd like to test that."
"I'm sorry… are you challenging me to a duel, Councillor Belland?"
He stared at her. Then he laughed.
"What?" Anna couldn't stop herself from giggling. "I mean, I wouldn't say no. Even if you obviously practice a whole lot more than I do. Oh, don't look so surprised." She raised her right hand, flexed the toughened skin between her thumb and forefinger, then gestured at Belland's hands, resting atop his cane. "Sword grip calluses."
Belland studied his own hand. "I was born during King Marius's reign. I have bled under King Runeard's banner. I counselled King Agnarr, then Queen Elsa. I wholeheartedly served each one, and yet I have grown old without truly pledging myself to any of them. Do you know why that is, Your Majesty?"
Slowly, Anna shook her head.
"Because they failed to surprise me. One of them did, eventually, but the same decree that impressed me also turned out to be her last."
"Trust me; no one was more surprised than the spare herself," Anna joked.
"She is not the spare."
"It's fine; I'm used to it."
"'She is not the spare,'" Belland repeated steadily, "'because she did not inherit our father's throne. She inherited mine because she has always been my heir.' That is what Princess Elsa told me. Now it is your turn to prove it, Queen Anna."
The bracelet's chill was a warm whisper against her skin. Anna wondered what it would be like to see herself through Elsa's eyes. She wondered if this was her chance to find out.
"And how would you like me to do that, Councillor Belland?"
But his answer was not an answer at all: it was only two words. One name.
"Hakon Erling."
A/N: Thanks for your patience waiting for this chapter! It was awfully hard and felt dry to write thanks to the double whammy of me easing into my new job, and the fact that this is just one of those chapters. I'd hoped to answer some of the gazillion plot questions I keep dropping on you guys, but it didn't fit in the chapter. With the long chapters and constant tension, reading this fic is practically an act of masochism! I appreciate all of you! Re-reading your reviews and kind messages got me through the toughest parts of this chapter.