The Next Unknown
10 – A Part of Me
OoOoO
If Oskar narrowed his eyes any further, he wouldn't be able to see at all.
"Mm, Fabian, these are divine! You've outdone yourself with this batch! We'll take five—no, ten boxes. One on the go, please, and the rest sent to the castle. Here, Oskar, you have to try this."
A cookie landed in his hand.
The baker bustled off. Anna continued sneaking samples. When she saw that Oskar hadn't moved, she swallowed with visible difficulty and said, "Don't tell me you've got a thing against krumkake, too. Because that will really put a strain on our friendship."
"What friendship?"
"We've been hanging out together for the entire day. Do you guys have a different word for that in the south?"
"Yeah—'kidnapping'." Oskar levelled a flat stare at her. "You said we were going to run one errand. Instead, we've spent the afternoon checking potholes and finding lost cats."
"Okay, but one of them was just a kitten."
"We tracked down fourteen different Rolfs to ask about a goat."
"Wasn't it sixteen?"
"You talked to every single person we passed."
"Just serving the kingdom."
"And now you're eating waffle cookies."
"Oh, so you don't want yours?" Anna made a swipe for his krumkake and grinned when Oskar shoved it into his mouth. "For the record," she said, reaching out to brush crumbs from his cheek, "we're going to visit someone who loves Fabian's krumkake. I thought we'd surprise her."
It was hard to scowl with his mouth full (okay, it did taste pretty spectacular). The baker returned with Anna's order, and of course she couldn't say goodbye like a normal person. Oskar had to take the krumkake box out of her hand and drag her towards the door before they lost another hour.
"Don't you have proper duties? Like signing documents without reading them?"
"All done! I also held court, attended another council meeting, and supervised a training drill with Mattias. I even took a few swings."
He already knew that; it was how he'd gotten roped into her shenanigans in the first place. He'd been minding his own business, dragging along a bucket of carrots Gerda had prepared for Sven, when the queen's voice had rang out across the courtyard—'Oh, Oskar! Hold onto this for me? Thanks!' And then a wad of fabric had smacked into his face. By the time he'd pulled her jacket off of his head, Anna had already gallivanted off with a training sword.
"What did Niklas want?"
"Nothing much."
"You hesitated."
Anna continued staring innocently up at the sky. "Doesn't mean I'm lying—he wanted nothing from me. And he didn't get it, anyway. I thought I was bad at politics but we totally scammed him. I'd feel bad if he wasn't such a ninny."
A ninny, said the grown up sovereign of Arendelle. "So what are you and your sister fighting about then?"
Anna tripped over a stone. "Okay, why is everyone suddenly asking me that?"
"I only knew your sister for, what, two days? And you were glued to her side the whole time. Even when she was gone, you wouldn't stop talking about her and wearing that scarf she made you. And now that she's back, you've suddenly spent the last three days running 'errands' all over the place. So how about you tell me what's going on, Your Genius Majesty?"
"I—exactly! I'm the queen! I'm busy!"
Oskar just looked at her.
Anna chewed her lip. "Elsa and I aren't fighting… at least, I don't think we are. How do you tell?We've never really fought before. I mean, we did plenty of it as kids—she was so petty when it came to chocolate… and we totally disagree now and then. But this? It's just… not talking to each other. And we've sort of done that for thirteen years, so it's nothing new. Sort of."
"Hold on—you were mad at each other for thirteen years?"
"What? No, we were just separated. I wasn't angry with her—well, sometimes I was. A tiny bit. But most of the time I just missed her. It was really nice when we got to see each other at her coronation, but then I wanted to marry your other ninny of an uncle and she thought that was stupid…" Anna stopped, tilting her head. "Huh. I guess that counted as a fight."
Oskar was still stuck on one detail. "When were you separated?"
"Mm? Oh, I was five."
Even more baffling. "So… why?"
"Why was I five years old?"
"Why were you so happy to see someone you only knew for five years? You wouldn't have remembered half of it."
Anna blinked. "What do you mean? It's not like I could forget someone who's loved me my whole life. I've never not been Elsa's little sister; she's a part of me." Anna hesitated. "What about you? Did you and Sofia fight?"
No more stupid heroics. "All the time."
There was another lengthy pause. Oskar glanced up and glimpsed surprise on Anna's face before she recovered. "What was she like?"
"You're awful at changing topics, you know." But her grin remained unfazed, and when she gave his hand a slight squeeze, Oskar felt his shoulders unclench. "She liked chocolate."
"Ah, so she was normal. What happened to you then?"
"Shut up. We weren't real siblings, anyway. She just decided to… care. She was stubborn like that. And brave. And a horrible singer."
"Yeah?" Anna's voice was light. Encouraging.
"She wasn't brave all the time, though. She was a coward when it came to snails; could hear her scream from the other end of the island. I used to leave them around her room and hide under the bed with my ears plugged up. She had killer aim so there was no point running. There's probably a footprint on the back of my head from all the times she sent her shoe flying at me." Oskar paused. "You would have liked her. But she wouldn't have liked you as much."
"What? Why?"
"Because you're too nice. It's suspicious."
Oskar's palms were getting sweaty, but Anna didn't seem to mind. He kept his eyes forward, focusing on the next step. And the next. "You'd tell me, right? When Prince Gregory dies. Unless it's already… happened?"
"No!" Anna sounded horrified. "At least, I don't think so? There's been no news and Niklas talked about the siege like it was still holding—but that's not the point. I know it looks bad, but if Gregory is as good as everyone says he is, your 'when' should at least be an 'if'."
"You don't know him. Even if he retreats in the meantime, he'll try again as soon as he gathers more men. And if he's still outnumbered, he's the type who would rather charge into defeat than do nothing. He will not give up on the Isles."
"Does he want to be the king that badly?"
Oskar almost laughed; Sofia would have. "You really don't know anything, do you? Prince Gregory thinks none of King Johan's sons should sit on the throne; the other twelve won't stand for it. Westergaards can't seem to last a generation without civil war."
"That's… wise. Well, he only attacked prematurely to save you. He wouldn't throw his life away without looking for you first, would he?"
It would certainly spare him from learning that Oskar had broken his promise. "It doesn't matter. You'll probably get sick of me and boot me out of Arendelle before he showed up."
Anna studied him a while longer, then seemed to decide to let it go. "I could be persuaded to keep you around if you gave chocolate a chance. Hot cocoa before bedtime has magic of its own… oh, we're here."
They were standing in front of a house large enough to be a manor by Arendellian standards. All the curtains were drawn. "Is this house haunted?" Oskar asked dubiously as they approached the steps.
Anna laughed. "Freya's lovely. But she's getting on in age and, well, she's always been forgetful. I sent her son to Weselton with Kristoff, so we're going to make sure she has everything she needs until he gets back. She'll love seeing a fresh face, especially if you surprise her with the krumkake. Go on."
Rolling his eyes, Oskar rapped his knuckles on the door. "Making house calls," he muttered. "What kind of queen are you?"
"Everybody's," Anna said cheerfully as the door opened. "Hi, Freya!"
A grey-haired woman stood in the doorway. Remarkably tall, she loomed over them with a dignified air, no sign of a hunch. No sign of emotion on her pallid face, either, as she adjusted her spectacles and peered at them.
Anna's smile didn't falter as she gave Oskar a meaningful nudge.
"Oh. Uh…" The woman was so tall that Oskar had to raise the box above his head. "Krumkake?"
Her blank gaze shifted to the box, then down to Oskar. And bored into him, unblinking, until she suddenly spun on her heels and headed back into the gloomy house.
"What the hell was that?" Oskar lowered the box of cookies. "I thought you said this place wasn't haunted."
Anna frowned. "I don't know. Hakon didn't say it had gotten this bad."
The sound of returning footsteps—no, stomping. The sound of fury.
Oskar turned around in time to see something swing at his head.
OoOoO
Anna didn't realise the power behind Freya's blow until the broom completed its arc and sent the door smashing into the wall. If Oskar hadn't ducked—
"Where have you been, you foolish boy? You have some nerve coming back!" Freya shrieked, brandishing the broom for a second strike.
Anna threw herself in front of Oskar. The wooden handle cracked into palms. "Freya, wait!"
Freya's spectacles were askew and fogging up with her hard breaths. Her eyes narrowed behind them. Then they widened. "Your Majesty?"
Relief made it hard for Anna to conceal her desperation. "Yes. Hello. You're okay; it's just me. See?"
The broom dropped to the ground with another sharp crack and just like that, it seemed to vanish from Freya's awareness. "Oh no, this is terribly embarrassing. I'm sorry you had to see me disciplining my worthless son, ma'am. You must understand; he's been missing for days. Just upped and left without a word. I feared he had taken another trip north!"
Hakon.
Swallowing, Anna reached behind her back and gestured for Oskar to leave. "Oh, um, that's actually my fault—total misunderstanding. Hakon was helping me… catalogue the castle library! That's it! I forgot to send someone to tell you. I'm so sorry, Freya. You must have been worried. How about we go inside and talk about it? Gosh, I'd love a cup of tea."
Freya's wrinkled face broke into the sweet smile Anna remembered. "Yes, yes, of course! Where are my manners? Please come in, come in."
Anna made to follow Freya into the house. And got yanked back.
"Are you crazy?" Oskar hissed. "You can't go in there! She just attacked us—attacked you. That's a capital offence."
Anna pressed a finger to her lips, glancing back at the house. "She didn't mean it; she's confused. Don't worry; she won't hurt me now that she recognises me. But you should definitely go. She's… mistaking you for her son."
My mother is capable of looking after herself, Hakon had said. Now, with a sinking heart, Anna wondered if Freya had ever been capable of looking after him.
Oskar crossed his arms. "You're an idiot if you think I'll let you walk in there alone. Give me the broom."
"And what exactly are you planning to do with that?" Anna's distress seeped away as she studied the prickly boy who had once refused to call her by her name. "Fine, you can stay. Let me do the talking. We'll leave if it gets bad—not that I'm saying it will. Freya is the picture of health but she's still, like, sixty years old. She'd take the prize for Most Sprightly Senior Citizen if we had one. Anyway, just be nice!"
"I'm always nice," Oskar sniffed as he snatched up the fallen box of krumkake.
The house's interior was ominously dark. Treading cautiously with one hand in front of her and the other on Oskar's shoulder, Anna recalled the time she and Elsa had discovered their first hidden passageway. It had been cold and dingy, and Elsa must have illuminated their path with magic, because Anna had revisited that passage many times since and seen no wall sconces. They'd eventually emerged to find the castle in a frenzy searching for them; apparently, they'd been missing for hours.
It was the best adventure ever! Anna had exclaimed happily while Papa plucked cobwebs from her hair. Wasn't it fun, Elsa?
What she had seen when she'd turned around, though, was Elsa clinging to Mama while Gerda cleaned her up with a handkerchief, eyes wide and teary. Anna's excitement had ebbed away as her bottom lip began quivering in response to her sister's fear, finally unchecked. Almost immediately, Elsa had hastily wiped her cheeks and beamed back. Yeah! Let's go back and explore when we're older!
Anna walked straight into a wall with a startled yelp.
"How did you not see that?" Oskar whispered as he steadied a picture frame that was swinging like a pendulum.
"I was thinking!"
"Start looking then!"
"I-Is someone there?" came a thin voice from the other side.
They found Freya in the dim sitting room, half-risen from her armchair with a thick book in her hands. "Please don't throw that!" Anna blurted, hastily stepping into the candlelight.
Freya's trepidation melted away into relief. "Oh, Your Majesty! I didn't hear you at the door. I thought for a moment it was the wild ones."
She had already forgotten about them.
Anna pushed a smile onto her face. "Sorry for dropping in without warning. What are you reading?"
Freya flashed the book's cover with a proud smile. "Hakon recommended this one to me. That boy always has his nose in a book. I'm not quite sure where he gets it from; his father abhorred the written word." She craned her neck, and Anna wondered if she should grab the book just in case. But this time, Freya's face brightened at the sight of Oskar. "There you are! We were just talking about you. What are you doing with that broom, silly child?"
Oskar shot Anna a bewildered look. She returned it pointedly. Sighing, he propped the broom against the wall and shuffled forward to place the box on the coffee table in front of Freya. "Got you krumkake from Fabian's. Might be a bit crushed because I, ah, dropped it. Outside."
"My sweet, uncoordinated boy," Freya cooed. Anna used to think that no matter how far Freya's mind drifted from the world around her, she would always recognise her own child. Now that threadbare comfort was gone—because Freya hadn't swung that broom at Anna or Oskar; in her mind, she had aimed for Hakon.
How many times had she done that?
"Why don't you make Her Majesty some tea? Just like you do for me. There's a good boy."
Oskar's eyes practically bugged out as he turned to Anna. She jerked her head down the corridor and mouthed, Second left.
She knew this because the first time she had successfully wheedled Hakon into letting her come inside, Freya had taken one clueless look at her and insisted on sharing her great-grandmother's secret cookie recipe. Hakon had returned with his documents to find the two of them elbows deep in flour, utterly inextricable. It had been another two hours before Anna and Hakon had made it back to the castle, white-haired and bearing burnt cookies. Elsa had spent the meeting struggling to keep a straight face.
Except Elsa was not queen anymore. Hakon was in Weselton. And Anna was no longer in either of their good graces.
There was a crash of shattering china. "I'm okay!" Oskar called from the kitchen.
"Are you sure?" Anna called back.
"No!"
Freya chuckled serenely. "He'll be fine; the boy practically raised himself. He says he'll become the youngest minister in the privy council. His father would have been so proud." Her eyes became misty. "They share a name, but they never got to share in each other's company."
Flickering candlelight illuminated a portrait of Hakon Erling Sr. hanging above the mantel, solemn and immortalised in his military uniform. "You did a wonderful job raising him, Freya. Now, how about we get some light in here? It's a beautiful day. Let me open some curtains—"
"You mustn't!" Freya's hands were claws around Anna's wrist. Her eyes bulged wide and terrified. "The wild ones are bold! They will come. The treaty means nothing to them." A sudden gasp. "Hakon! Where did he go?"
"He's okay, Freya. He's making tea for us, remember? That's him banging around in the kitchen." Anna knelt in front of the chaise, gently freeing herself from Freya's clutch so she could hold the older woman's hand. "No one is going to hurt you."
Freya gripped Anna's hands so tightly they hurt. "The war is not over… you must tell the king he must not end the conscription. The wild ones will return to raid us. They won't stop until they've driven us out of our homes."
"I don't understand. What war?" As soon as she questioned it, though, Anna knew. "The wild ones…you mean the Northuldra?"
"Don't give them a name!"
Anna flinched at the venom in Freya's voice. "Th-that's what they call themselves. The people of the sun. Freya, they mean us no harm. It was Runeard who—"
"Runeard." Freya's eyes had glazed over. "He said it would be over when he came back. But he didn't come back. None of them did. All butchered by the wild ones." She pulled at Anna's hands. "I feared the worst when Hakon disappeared last month on that foolish journey of his. I can't imagine what those barbarians would have done to him if you hadn't fetched him. Thank you, thank you…"
It was like the prick of a needle—a tiny puncture exposing blood to air, and the truth to itself. Anna should have known from the first Your Majesty. Because to Freya, Hakon was still a child, the Northuldra were still their enemies, and neither she nor Elsa had ruled Arendelle yet.
Freya stopped rocking and blinked. "Ah, Queen Iduna! I did not see you there."
Anna squeezed her eyes shut.
One more white lie. Just a little longer in a world where she was not yet born, with a future that waited for her to pick flowers with Mama and climb onto Papa's shoulders. Where nightmares didn't last because her big sister would crawl into her bed and sleepily mumble, You're okay, Anna. I got you.
Taking a deep breath, Anna opened her eyes with a smile. "Hi, Freya. Would you like some krumkake?"
OoOoO
'… a shapeshifter, though widely believed to take the form of a brook horse. Some accounts associate the Nokk with enchanting music. Mothers taught their children to beware the sound of a sweet violin on a foggy day, for many an admirer had been lured to the water only to be swallowed by its sinister depths…'
"Hey, Elsa?"
"Yes, Olaf?"
"Did you know that Kai and Gerda are characters in a story called 'The Snow Queen'? That's such an extraordinary coincidence! Oh, but the Snow Queen is evil in this one. You're much nicer."
"Why thank you."
'… a scattered picture of superstitious precautions. One method involves casting iron or steel into its waters and uttering its name with true conviction. Another claims the Nokk fears its own reflection captured in stagnant water. However, some tales suggest the water spirit is not inherently malevolent…'
"Hey, Elsa?"
"Yes, Olaf?"
"Can you fly me up to that shelf? Oooh, higher, higher! A little bit to the left… and a teensy nudge back to the right… boy, it is so dusty up here. Try not to sneeze! I'd love more little brothers, but I'm running out of names."
'… rumours it can be persuaded to impart its enthralling music—or, more daringly, be summoned by means of an appropriate offering…'
"Hey, Elsa?"
"One moment, Olaf. I think I've found something."
'One can only speculate at the price of such a ritual, for the exploitation of myth echoes a foray into the shadowy call of shamanism, and therefore the forfeit of one's soul.'
Pulse quickening, Elsa turned the page.
'And that, young explorers, is why you must never neglect your prayers and music lessons. In the next volume of Aren Tales, we shall be whisked to the land of the elusive huldrefolk!'
Elsa snapped the book shut with a groan. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting. Only a fool sought answers to questions they didn't even know.
"Hey, Elsa?"
"Yes, Olaf?"
"Did you know that rubbing your eyes is a sign of exhaustion?"
"Is it now?"
"Uh huh! So maybe you should take a break, because you've been doing it a lot. Like, a lot."
Elsa smiled faintly. "I'll keep that in mind."
"What were you reading?" Olaf picked up her discarded book. "Ooh, Aren Tales! I love this series. Sven reads them to me for bedtime stories. Lots of big words."
"It's still a best-selling series after all these years. Legend has it that Aren founded Arendelle, but Father used to say that these journals were Aren's greatest legacy. They are as eccentric as he apparently was; as much myth for scholars as they are fables for children. The content is simple and almost immature, yet the writing is long-winded. Frankly, most of the journals don't make much sense at all."
"So Aren didn't have anything useful to say about the Nokk?"
"Unfortunately not. At least, nothing that could help us understand what could have happened to it, or how to bring it back." Elsa made to rub her eyes, but Olaf cleared his throat and she sheepishly lowered her hand. "What about you? Did you find anything on Vuos and Nuor?"
"Nope! But I found lots of other pairs in literature." Olaf flounced to his feet and started going through his stack of books. "Kai and Gerda, Hansel and Gretel, Jack and the Beanstalk…"
"I'm not sure that one counts, Olaf."
"Did you know there are lots of siblings in Greek and Roman mythology? There's Apollo and Artemis, Castor and Pollux…"
Elsa slumped back into the armchair as Olaf went on. Once more, they had nothing to show for a full day of researching. The sun was already setting, distilling its flames through the stained glass. Elsa's only comfort was that the library had always been her sanctuary; surrounded by centuries of knowledge, it was hard to feel sorry for oneself. Growing up, she used to look for books that had been returned to the wrong places in an attempt to gauge Anna's latest interest. Sometimes Elsa rearranged the books herself, placing stories about knights and dragons on the lower shelves for her sister to reach. Sometimes notes and drawings fluttered out of those same books, days later.
Yesterday, though, Elsa had nearly fallen out of her chair when Anna had suddenly banged into the library with a pen behind one ear and her nose stuck in a lengthy missive. Her sister had looked up, frozen at the sight of her, then awkwardly tiptoed to the legislation section. Eventually, Elsa had asked what she was looking for and Anna had stammered, Just, uh, something about land registry. That actually makes sense. Elsa had sent a snowflake to mark the relevant tome, and Anna had been tall enough to reach that on her own.
Now, Elsa couldn't help eyeing the door as Olaf continued making his merry lists. Then she heard something that made her head snap up. "Olaf, what was that you just said?"
"Hm? About the blurring of myth and legend into the same stories under different names, until someone wins a war and gets to claim their story as the most accurately inaccurate version of history?"
"Not quite. You were going through characters in Norse mythology?"
"Oh, yes! There's Thor, of course, but Tyr is my favourite; he's so brave. There are lots of animals, too. There's Fenrir the wolf, and Jormungandr the big bad serpent, and Hugin and Munin, who were Odin's—"
"Ravens." Elsa recalled the wings she had seen when Pabbie had consulted the auroras. Was it too much of a stretch? What did any of it mean?
Sisters sundered.
"Did you know that Hugin represents thought and Munin symbolises memory? Together, they make up the human mind. Isn't that cool? You can't have Hugin without Munin—just like how you can't be Elsa without Anna."
It was such a simple statement, so innocent and true. Elsa pulled Olaf into her lap so he couldn't see the wistfulness behind her smile. "That's why we have you. You're a little bit of me and a little bit of Anna."
"That means I'm mostly you! Because you're the big sister, so you taught Anna how to be Anna."
"That's a nice thought, but I'm not sure I taught Anna anything at all. She's always been her own person."
"Aww, that's not true. You taught her how to ice-skate."
"Not successfully."
"Good point. How to be a good queen then."
"She's always had that in her."
"How to be patient?"
"Arguable."
"But you definitely taught her how to read, right?"
"I—" Elsa raised her head. "How do you know that?"
"Anna told me! She said you used to hold her hand and write letters in the sand."
It had actually been in the snow, but Anna wouldn't remember that. Elsa had been prepared to change that the first time they went to Ahtohallan together. She had taken a breath, turned to Anna, and asked, "Would you like to see the memories you lost?"
Except Anna had only stared back blankly. "What memories?"
Had Anna hit her head running from the Earth Giants and forgotten what she had forgotten? "Of… that night, Anna. The trolls? And everything that came before?"
"Oh, that." Her sister waved it off. "Geez, sis, you make it sound so dramatic. Haven't you heard Olaf's spiel on semantic accuracy? Pabbie altered my memories; I didn't lose them. I didn't lose you… oh."
They looked at each other then. Elsa was glad she hadn't needed to say it aloud: Didn't you? Didn't I?
Then Anna headbutted her. "Ooh, ow, sorry. That was way harder than I'd planned. Anyway, take them."
"Take what, Anna? And what exactly are you doing?"
"Giving you my memories! Put them up; let me show you what I was like at six years old. And seven, and eight, and thirteen. I'll give you everything. Then it's your turn. Did you have awkward teen years? Because I totally had awkward teen years."
"That is not how it works," Elsa laughed. She'd meant the way Anna kept pushing her head into her shoulder like a cat, as if memories were transferred by contact.
Anna, though, looked up with her muddled hair and said, "Well, it should work that way. Life's too short to miss out on a sister like you."
And yet, here they were.
OoOoO
"There you are, Kai!"
She saw him leap into the air. The cloth he was using to polish the banister flew automatically to his brow in that habit she so loved. "Goodness me! Is there something can I help you with, Your Majesty?"
"Yes, sorry… just let me… catch my breath." Anna pressed a hand to the stitch in her side and flopped down at the top of the stairs. She probably shouldn't, but she also probably shouldn't have taken off at a run after dropping Oskar off with Sven. Sometimes a queen had to do what a queen had to do, and not be the queen for a few minutes.
Sometimes the past crept up so close, so suddenly, that it needed to be physically outrun.
Kai resumed his polishing with a tone of amusement. "Did another duckling hatch?"
"No, that was last week. I called him Sir Eggbert."
"Very good. I shall inform General Mattias that a new knight will join his ranks. Speaking of knights, ma'am, I hope you didn't topple another suit of armour in your rush…?"
"Um…"
Kai stopped. "Ma'am?"
"I'm kidding! Of course I didn't—well, maybe not of course, but you would have heard it if I had." Anna slipped off her shoes and set them on the step beside her. "Or maybe not, huh? It's pretty busy around here nowadays; not so quiet and echo-y anymore."
"Actually, Gerda and I were saying the past few days have been quieter than they ought to be."
Anna's lip jutted out. "You're usually much subtler than that, Kai."
"I could say that you're usually a lot more forgiving, little crown." The old nickname brought back memories of crashing into the staff's dinnertime to unload her day on them because the halls were too empty and she'd already shouted her news through her sister's door, and there was simply no one else to tell after that because Mama and Papa…
Shaking her head, Anna remembered why she had sought Kai out. "Was Mother friends with Hakon Erling?"
Kai seemed taken aback. "I believe Queen Iduna never met the senior Lord Hakon Erling, but I do recall she was the one who recommended young Master Erling to be His Majesty's aide."
Anna wasn't sure she'd heard that correctly. "Father's aide?" she sputtered. "Hakon was close with both of them?"
"I'm afraid I know little about their relationship; Master Hakon is a very private person, as you know. I'm inclined to think he met the queen at the orphanage. Mrs. Erling has been… indisposed since her husband passed, so while Master Erling had his own home, he was partially raised as a ward of the state. Queen Iduna lived at the orphanage in her adolescence; it caused quite a stir when the king began courting her. She remained closely involved with its affairs and visited frequently until the king ordered the gates closed; even then, she wrote letters to all the children and continued to make trips when she could. I presume she may have seen Master Erling as a younger sibling and recognised his intelligence? He became His Majesty's aide shortly before the gates closed. The position was an incredible achievement for a young man only fifteen years of age."
The timelines tangled in Anna's mind. She'd known Hakon had started his career young—how could she not when he brought it up like clockwork?—but for some reason it had never crossed her mind to wonder how closely he had worked with her parents. When she had been introduced to Elsa's privy council, she'd merely found all the councillors' faces vaguely familiar; adults she had seen talking to Father in the halls before he reduced the staff and moved meetings from the castle chambers to the town hall.
But now she knew that Hakon had practically grown up around her parents. Did he know things about them that Anna didn't? Had she and Elsa grown up in his invisible orbit? Why hadn't he ever said anything to her? He couldn't possibly think she wouldn't want to know.
Then again, Hakon wasn't the only one who had kept secrets from her.
The wild ones, Freya had said.
Anna's stomach lurched. How had her mother felt, hearing the hate in those words while she'd hidden in plain sight as Queen of Arendelle?
"If you want to know more about Master Hakon's family," Kai said, "perhaps you should speak to Councillor Belland."
It felt too soon for a deja vu, but Anna once more doubted her hearing. "Councillor Belland? Why?"
"He was close friends with Lord Hakon Erling Sr. They were both trusted advisors to King Runeard and accompanied him to Northuldra that day."
Freya's despair rang starkly in Anna's mind: He didn't come back. None of them did.
She left Kai to his duties and padded barefooted down the hallway, unable to shake off the sense that an hourglass had been shattered, its sands rapidly trickling through her fingers while she scrabbled for reason among the debris.
It didn't help that her head felt stuffed with cotton. Last night, she'd missed dinner because Kristoff hadn't been around to accuse her of doing an Elsa. There had been so many missives to reply to and Councillor Fisker had sent in last month's crop report, and then she'd made a round to check on the refugees… and in between all of that she'd wondered if Elsa was eating alone.
Anna turned a corner—and the bracelet started glowing.
Music flowed around her.
Before she knew it, Anna was standing outside a door again. It was a different door, and she knew this one wasn't locked. She knew she could walk in without knocking. She could skip inside and drape herself over Elsa's shoulder while her sister played. She could put one finger on the piano and choose a whimsical chord progression for Elsa to compose an entire piece around; a song that was solely Anna's. She could open the door like some things had never changed.
But she couldn't, could she?
So Anna sat outside, idly spinning the bracelet around her wrist. Its gentle chill was a balm against her still-aching palm. Against everything. She thought to herself that Elsa's music sounded like the Forest now—like the warmth of a crackling campfire, the rhythmic pattering of rain on waxy leaves, whispered secrets carried on an unfettered breeze—and made a mental note to tell Elsa that later. When they weren't fighting.
Elsa's last piece culminated in a dramatic, waterfall-like rush before easing down to a trickle. It was Anna's cue to get up; to put her shoes back on and go back to being the queen. But just as she began to stand, a simple melody froze her in place. Eight tentative notes asking—
Do you want to build a snowman?
Anna lost her balance and crashed back against the door with a yelp.
She heard a heavy bench scrape against the floor on the other side. "Anna? Are you okay?"
"Yep! Totally fine! Thick skull."
"Do you need ice?"
"No, I'm good. Really. Thanks. You sound like a tree. Wait, no, your music sounds like a tree—lots of trees. A forest. The Forest. I just—I should go."
Anna saw the door handle turn ever so slightly, then return to its regular position. "Okay. Bye."
Anna put her shoes on. She stood up without tripping. But she didn't leave. She could, but she couldn't.
She turned back to the door and announced, "I'm not going to apologise."
"I see." Elsa didn't sound at all surprised. "Neither am I."
Anna was awful at chess, but she'd gotten stuck in enough stalemates to know that they weren't supposed to feel like this.
"You taught me how to slide down the halls in socks," Elsa said suddenly. "And how to connect with our people. You taught me how to ride bareback; I might not have been able to tame the Nokk if you hadn't."
Then maybe you shouldn't have gone. But she'd already told Elsa that, hadn't she? She'd shouted it, heard it echo back at her, and it hadn't felt as cathartic as she'd thought it would. Nowhere near.
"You taught me a lot of things, Anna. Including the fear of losing you."
"Well, so did you." Anna released the bracelet before she broke it with her agitated fidgeting. Promise you'll break this if you need me wasn't the same as breaking promises. "Have you ever thought that between being in danger and being alone, I'd rather choose the danger?"
"Have you considered that between you and the rest of the world, I will always choose you?"
It was a good thing Anna's eyes were already dry and tired. "You really need to stop using that as your ace card."
"I might if you stop acting like it's unreasonable for me to value your safety."
"Wow, sis. I never realised you were such a hypocrite."
"I'm sorry you thought you had a monopoly on stubbornness in this family."
"I didn't; I thought it was just on stupidity. Now you're proving I was wrong about that, too."
"Very mature, Anna."
"What do you expect? I learned from the best." Anna felt like a coil ready to snap. "I'm going to walk away from this unproductive discussion now. Like an adult."
"Have a good evening," came Elsa's terse reply.
Anna's feet had only just recovered, but it didn't stop her from stomping away. Any moment now, it would start feeling good. Any moment now, the hallway would once more fill up with the sound of music; perhaps more volcano than forest. Then Anna would feel like she was doing the right thing. Because she was right. One of them had to be.
The bracelet grew duller. And warmer. Anna kept walking.
She took a right. Then another. And another. Until she was back in front of the music room door, teeth gritted, hand raised—
It opened before she could knock.
And there was her sister, equally startled.
They stared at each other.
Recovering, Anna huffed, "Yes. To the snowman. But later. When you're not being such a stinker."
Elsa's eyebrows rose along with the corners of her lips. "Noted."
This time, Anna didn't stomp when she walked away. She could, but she couldn't.
A/N: Ahh, it's so good to have a chapter with the sisters back together (and no cliffhangers?!). When I set out to write this story, I knew I wanted to explore Anna and Elsa confronting each other and having a good squabble. Frankly, I think they need it.
As always, thank you for reading! It's such a joy to receive your feedback, especially when I hear that you guys actually like Oskar, Hakon and Belland. I can't reply to the wonderful guest reviewers but please know that I appreciate all of you :)