The Next Unknown

12 – A Whole New Situation

OoOoO

There wasn't enough space for him to roll with the fall. Kristoff hit the cell floor hard, the iron door clanging shut behind him. He heard four more thuds and disgruntled shouts, a string of snarled curses from Petra, followed by the march of fading footsteps. The dungeon doors slammed.

Kristoff pushed himself up onto all fours and coughed, ears ringing. "Everyone okay? Petra?"

"The pox be with you, you scurvy-mouthed pig sniffers—yes, sir, I'm unharmed. Yourself?"

"Fine. Ronny? Herman? You guys good?"

The other guards sounded off. Kristoff couldn't see them and assumed by the echo that they were in another section of the dungeon.

"Erling? You there?"

Silence. Of course—Erling was probably sharing a toast with the Duke of Weselton, snorting over how simple it had been to deal with the brainless mountain man. Bjorgman, you big idiot.

Then Petra said, "I think he's injured, sir. "

Kristoff's head snapped up. The guards had tossed them into individual cells; Kristoff's was bracketed by a wall on the left and Petra's cell to his right.

Shuffling over to the bars, Kristoff made out a crumpled figure in the cell beside Petra's. "What happened? Did he hit his head?"

"… fine," came a strained hiss. "Landed bad. Dislocated shoulder."

Kristoff exhaled. "Don't move it. Focus on relaxing your muscles; it might pop back in by itself."

"Curious that they didn't bind our hands. If you lie down close enough and at the right angle, I can try reaching through the bars to set it for you," Petra offered.

"I'm fine," Erling snapped back, panting. "Not the first time it's happened."

It didn't seem to be his first experience with pain, either. Kristoff hadn't exactly expected woeful screaming, but he was surprised to see someone as… polished as Erling handling injury so well.

Petra raised a grey eyebrow when Kristoff unbuckled his belt and passed it through the bars to her. "Strangulation, sir?"

"Sling, Petra."

"Ah, yes. Of course."

It took a while for Erling to prop himself up against the bars so Petra could wind the belt around his arm and neck.

Kristoff watched them, absently nursing his jaw; he'd turned his head at the last second and been rewarded with scratches instead of cracked bone. "Was it you, Erling? Did you have anything to do with this?"

Another stretch of silence.

Erling let out a grunt as Petra finished cinching up the makeshift sling. "Sorry, Councillor," she chirped. "My hand slipped. I imagine the pain must be so great that you didn't hear His Highness' question."

"I heard him," Erling replied acerbically. "Forgive me for trying to think of ways to get us out of this situation, instead of obsessing over how we got into it. I'm intrigued that you would think to suspect me before suspecting Weselton of fabricating accusations, sir."

"Oh, trust me, I definitely haven't forgotten about him. I know what the Duke did in Arendelle. But there's the fact that we've been staying as guests under his roof for the better part of a week. If I was planning to frame someone, I wouldn't have bothered to waste all that food and accommodation on them, let alone suffer a two-hour meeting before making my move."

"An astute rationale, Your Highness." It almost sounded like approval, and hearing it in Erling's disaffected drawl only made Kristoff feel like he was being toyed with.

"Just give me a straight answer, Erling. We don't know if the Duke is lying. But you know if you killed someone."

"How would I have had the chance to commit murder, Your Highness, when you have not let me out of your sight since we left Arendelle?"

"You tell me. You could have planned something before that. Or are you working with someone here? We're in the Duke's territory; it would be child's play to double cross you and leave you here to rot."

"If your mind is already made up, then there is nothing more for me to say."

Petra looked to Kristoff. "I can still strangle him in four different ways, sir. Possibly five."

Kristoff returned a half-smile of appreciation. He didn't think Anna had told the guards to be cautious of Erling so much as asked them to prioritise Kristoff's orders; either way, Petra and the others were nothing short of professional. Yet they also hadn't been subtle about their loyalty towards him, which Kristoff had chalked down to rank until he remembered the many times he had stuck his head out of the stuffy carriage to debate the merits of horses versus reindeers with Ronny. When insomnia had struck on their first night in Weselton, Herman and Petra had accompanied him to an inn and dared him to arm wrestle the bartender for free drinks. Maybe they weren't simply following him because their queen had ordered it.

And look where his excellent leadership had landed them.

Kristoff yanked off the ascot and shed his jacket; with the belt no longer digging into his hips, it felt like the rest of the chains had broken. Looking like Prince Kristoff hadn't made him feel any more qualified to be representing Arendelle. In the meeting, he'd contributed less than young Prince Fredrik, who at least hadn't tried to drown his nerves with tea. Down here, without Anna hanging from his arm or Elsa looking out for him from a distance, Kristoff had nothing.

But Erling had tried to help him just before the arrest.

Sighing, Kristoff pushed a hand through his hair. "Look, I'm not asking if you sold me out. I don't much care what you think of me. If you wanted my respect, you would have tried harder to earn it. So I'm not expecting your pledge of loyalty or whatever—all I'm asking is whether you betrayed Anna."

"That sounds like the same question to me."

"Erling. Yes or no?"

The gleam of Erling's cracked glasses caught the light as he turned his head to the side. "Would you believe me if I said 'no'?"

"Honestly? I don't know."

"Good."

"Good?" He saw Erling open his mouth, but the creak of the dungeon doors cut off whatever explanation he would have offered.

Kristoff scrambled to his feet as guards marched down the aisle, and it wasn't until they parted that he saw the diminutive man escorted in their midst. Petra wasted no time launching into a fresh round of threats, but the Duke of Weselton stormed past her cell without so much as a glance.

It wasn't a surprise when he stopped in front of Kristoff's cell—but the vehemence in the Duke's distinctly squeaky voice was another matter. "Where is it?" he demanded.

Kristoff frowned. "Where is what?"

At a sharp flick of a hand, the guards on either side of the Duke upended the bags they were carrying. A miscellany of items crashed to the ground. Kristoff spotted the familiar pompom of the hat Anna had knitted him for Christmas last year and realised it was his own belongings strewn over the floor. It seemed like only yesterday Petra had raised an eyebrow at his bulging pack when he'd hoisted it onto the carriage. It was Bulda's fault, but Kristoff blamed himself for telling her that he was going away without Anna or Elsa, causing her to fret and bury him under kisses and "supplies for the road, just in case you need a pick-me-up".

Now it was all there in a heap. The Duke's men must have gone through their rooms.

"Where. Is. It?" the Duke repeated. His uniform was dishevelled and his white hair, previously combed to a lustrous shine, was now in disarray. The most startling change, though, was in his eyes; they were wild and dilated. He looked nothing like the skittish schemer Kristoff had sat across less than an hour ago. "Where is the antidote?"

"I don't know what you're—"

"Lies!" Kristoff leaped back when the Duke snatched a spear off the nearest guard, raking the blade across the bars like an ominous instrument. "It has to be you!"

"Mind yourself! You're speaking to Prince Kristoff of Arendelle." Both Petra's tone and stance were tense, but she made no sudden movements. Her eyes flitted between Kristoff and the weapon in the Duke's unpredictable hand.

"Oh, I know exactly who I'm speaking to," the Duke hissed. "Sneaking in to 'foster goodwill' and 'stand together', so presumptuous with your terms; demanding I apologise to that—"

"You don't want to finish that sentence," Kristoff warned quietly.

"Or what? What will you do to me from your obvious position of power, Prince Kristoff?" The Duke struck the bars again. Kristoff had to clench his fists to keep from flinching.

"You slimy weasel—"

"No, Petra," Kristoff said without taking his eyes off the spear. "Don't give him a reason."

The Duke's eyes narrowed behind his round glasses, which sat askew on his blotched nose. "Oh, but I do want a reason. I want to know why you didn't pick your battle with me. It was me who ordered the attack on your precious Snow Queen and was punished—punished!—for doing the right thing. Why didn't you go after me?"

"We didn't go after you!"

"Stop! Lying!" The spear struck metal over and over, thickening the air with a chaotic cacophony.

Kristoff inched back, struggling to follow the Duke's frenzied movements. All it would take was a reckless thrust through the bars, or a glancing blow at the wrong angle to snap the spearhead and—

"I take it he's not dead then?" Erling climbed awkwardly to his feet, favouring his injured arm. He adjusted his glasses and cast a cool look at the breathless Duke, who spun around with a tempestuous glower. "The poison hasn't killed our dear Prince Fredrik. Not yet, anyway."

Fredrik had been poisoned? That flighty young prince who hadn't stopped yawning throughout the meeting? He'd been perfectly fine when he and the Duke had stepped out for a discussion. How could he suddenly be on his deathbed?

How did Erling know?

Then again, even Kristoff got the impression that, had anyone else's life been in danger, the Duke would not be so riled up.

Darting down the cells, the Duke jabbed a shaking finger at Erling. "You! Of course it was you! I should have known—give me the antidote!"

Erling ignored him, instead tapping his chin in thought. "Well, now we have a problem, don't we? You arrested us for murder, Your Grace. That was rather hasty of you; it's almost as if you are the one with a vested interest in Prince Fredrik's demise."

"How dare you! Fredrik is… I have raised him since he was a boy!"

"Magnanimous of you, yes. But it's no secret how you felt about the late king; you believe your sister would still be alive if she hadn't married into the royal family. You nurtured Fredrik after his parents' deaths because he was of no threat to you. Now that he's months away from being crowned King of Weselton, you must have realised he's no longer cute to keep around. I respect your patience, waiting for the perfect scapegoat. Who better to frame than a convoy from Arendelle, the kingdom none will openly admit they fear?"

It happened in a flash. Erling reacted instantly, as if he had expected the attack—but it almost wasn't quick enough. He stumbled back just as the spear stabbed through the space he had occupied, almost piercing his chest as he flattened himself to the wall.

Breathing hard, the Duke pushed his face into the bars to gain reach. His strikes were sloppy, but there was a vicious desperation behind them. And were those… tears? "Give—me—the—antidote!" He punctuated each word with haphazard stabs. "I'm—not—losing—him!"

Erling moved, calm and decisive as water flowing downstream. He batted aside the spear, then seized the shaft, holding it in place. Shouts of alarm rang out as the Duke lost his balance—and then there were swords drawn and three more spears trained on Erling. With the guards' greater reach, they could easily impale him.

But Erling ignored them all. He took a half-step forward, placing himself squarely within range. Slowly, without breaking eye contact with the Duke, he raised the spearhead to his own throat and held it steady. "Go on."

Kristoff's lips went dry. No one moved. No one breathed.

The Duke laughed, causing the blade to tremble dangerously. "You think I won't?"

"Oh no, Your Grace; I know you will. I also know you will come to your senses when you see my blood. Because you know that between our two parties, you are the only one with an actual motive to harm Prince Fredrik. We don't. Even if we did, you know it makes no sense for Queen Anna to risk someone of my station, let alone her own husband. We were in the same room eating the same food and drinking from the same pot of tea. The prince was hale and hearty when the two of you left for your private discussion. If we had poisoned him during the meeting, you don't think our priority would have been to escape as soon as the deed was done? Why were we still standing around when you charged back in with your premature accusation of murder? We don't have the antidote, and even if you caught the true culprit, you know they wouldn't be stupid enough to carry it on them—if it exists at all."

"Lies!" Spittle flew from the Duke's lips. "You are the last outsiders we allowed in since we heard of the failed siege on the Southern Isles. We've been careful. No one else has gotten close to Fredrik. It has to be you!"

"Then do it." Erling released the spear; without his steadying grip, it dipped and wavered, its tip grazing his shirt. "When the time comes for you to justify your actions, though, you'll remember that the Snow Queen doesn't take kindly to threats against her kingdom, let alone her family. Then you'll be thankful it was my blood you spilled, and not that of our queen's husband. You're welcome."

The Duke's expression was fierce yet broken. "It has to be you," he insisted.

Erling's voice dropped. "You know better. It's too late for Fredrik, no matter who you threaten."

"No. It has to be you… it has to be." The Duke's wiry body quivered.

To think that Kristoff's greatest worry throughout the trip had been embarrassing Anna—now there was a young prince dying above them, and a lethal weapon pointed at a man he still didn't know if he could trust. For all he knew, the Duke was spinning another elaborate web of lies.

Yet Kristoff recognised the look on the Duke's face, too. He'd seen it before when Elsa had clung to Anna's crystallised body, and in the way Anna's expression had crumpled like a flower robbed of sunlight when he'd asked, Hey, where's Elsa? Kristoff knew what it felt like to lose his only landmark. It was too visceral to fake.

"I'm sorry."

The Duke turned dazedly towards him.

Kristoff licked his lips and held the old man's gaze. "I'm sorry. You don't have to believe it, but I am."

The Duke just stared at him. Then, like a flag without wind, he sagged. The spear tilted down and hit the floor by Erling's feet with a dull clink, then slipped from the Duke's hand altogether.

Erling took slow steps backwards until his back was once more pressed to the wall, this time seemingly for support rather than safety. His gaze caught on Kristoff's, and they shared a wordless look before simultaneously averting their eyes.

Kristoff ended up staring restlessly at Anna's hat, lying among his discarded belongings. He shouldn't have packed it, he thought. Now it was dusty and stained with reminders of his helplessness, sitting in a foreign nation's dungeon. He shouldn't have volunteered; shouldn't have believed he could actually do anything to help her. To help Arendelle. Prince consort or not, there was no way around the fact that he would always be him. Kristoff Bjorgman: ice harvester, reindeer-whisperer, raised by trolls…

Raised by trolls.

Kristoff's eyes flew open. He threw himself to the floor and stuck his arm through the bars.

"Hey!" Something hard jabbed between his shoulder blades. "Get back in your cell!"

The sharp pressure stalled. "Touch him one more time," Petra snarled. "I dare you."

Gritting his teeth, Kristoff strained as far as he could, his hand scrabbling blindly across the floor. The bars squeezed tight around his biceps. Just when he was on the verge of dislocating a shoulder, too, his fingers snagged on what felt like a strap. He yanked the pack towards him, shouting, "Wait! I might be able to help!"

From the corner of his eye, he saw the Duke stop.

Kristoff brushed off Anna's hat and tucked it carefully into his pocket. Then he rummaged through the pack, tossing aside clothes and souvenirs, cursing himself for not paying attention when Bulda had rattled off the list of things she had stuffed into his arms. But he knew his Ma, and she had never in his life sent him off on a trip without—

Kristoff's hand closed around something small and hard. A piece of home.

The Duke was eyeing him. Swallowing, Kristoff rose into a crouch and held out a handful of multicoloured crystals, gleaming despite the dim lighting.

The Duke recoiled. "You're a sorcerer, too?"

"These crystals were given to me by wise beings with healing powers. You don't need magic to use them; just put them near Fredrik. They're not very powerful and I don't know how effective they are against poison. They might not work at all—but if they do, it might buy us some time."

"Time for what? As your political pet pointed out, the assassin must be long gone."

"Then find your own cure! Call your apothecaries. Ask for help." Kristoff looked at the Duke. "Just like we came here to do."

"How do I know this isn't part of your scheme?"

"Are you seriously—"

"What do we have to lose?" It was Erling. The Duke's head snapped towards him. "You've already got us here—and the way you're acting, it looks like Fredrik doesn't have much to lose either. But you? He's your only family."

The Duke eyed the crystals. Scowled at Erling. Frowned at Kristoff. But there was a light behind those tired eyes.

Ignoring the guards and their weapons, Kristoff reached through the bars, grabbed the Duke's gloved hand, and dropped the crystals into them. "Here. Now don't tell me we can't trade this thing called 'trust' without writing up another twenty-page agreement."

OoOoO

There was no point pretending she was even vaguely comfortable.

Elsa shifted onto one side. She adjusted the cushion ten different ways. She rolled onto her other side, then returned to her back. She tried holding the book up with one hand, but her arm shook. She couldn't turn the page.

Finally, she let out a sigh."I don't understand how you—"

"Gah!" Anna's shriek made Elsa fumble and drop the book—it was a good thing each volume of Aren Tales was relatively slim, or the force of one landing on her face might have shattered her nose.

"What happened? Are you okay?" There was so much clutter piled in front of the couch that Elsa still couldn't see a thing when she levered herself up on an elbow. Her movement only dislodged the palisade of cushions Anna had heaped on her, and Elsa hastily snapped up a barrier of ice before the avalanche demolished the precarious stacks of paper on the coffee table.

"You scared me," came Anna's huffed response from across the study. "I think I drew on my face. Did I draw on my face?"

"I can't tell you because I can't see you." Elsa picked the cushions off the floor, struggling to find space for them on the couch without once more burying herself. "Perhaps if you'd let me—"

"Don't even think about it. Okay, I definitely drew on my face."

"I'll just straighten up the room. I promise not to disturb your… filing system."

"Nuh uh! You're supposed to be relaxing. Queen's orders."

"Forgive me, Your Majesty," Elsa said as she stacked the cushions into a pyramid; the most stable of structures, "but I think you and I have slightly different definitions of 'relaxing'."

"What do you mean? What could be more relaxing than lying down in a cloud of cushions and reading a book?"

"Sitting up properly and reading without aching arms, or the paranoia of dropping the book on my face?"

"That's no fun."

Elsa sat up. Anna was still seated at the desk, a pen balanced on her upper lip as she frowned down at a document. She twirled a second pen between her fingers and appeared utterly engrossed in her reading; a sight Elsa still needed to get used to. But there was still the streak of smudged ink adorning her sister's chin, reminding her that some things never changed.

Anna arched over the back of the chair, reaching for the sunlight streaming through the window behind her. When she noticed Elsa watching her, she let the pen roll off her lip and caught it without looking, eyes playfully narrowed. "What? Never seen a diligent queen at work?"

Elsa picked up her book and checked it for creases before marking her page. "Arguably, no. Mother did many things for the kingdom, but I don't remember paperwork bringing her any joy."

This time, it was Anna's silence that drew attention.

"What's the matter?"

"Oh? Nothing." Anna rolled the two pens between her hands. Hesitating. "Just… the other day, someone mistook me for Mother."

"Ah… you do look very much like her."

"Sure, but have you looked in a mirror? All you need to change is your hair, and voila: Mother." Anna flopped over the desk. "I can't read any more of this report. How can I be this tired? We literally did nothing yesterday! We slept half the day away."

There was a kingdom to run, the threat of war on the horizon, and the Nokk was still missing. But yesterday, the two of them had done nothing and, somehow, the world had still been waiting for them the next morning. Along with an inordinate amount of paperwork on Anna's desk, which they had managed to halve before Elsa had been marched to the couch and commanded to 'relax'.

Elsa picked up Anna's report, skimmed it, and added a comment to the margin. She reached for the next document in the pile.

"Hey!" Anna slapped her hand.

"Ow," Elsa said dryly.

"We agreed to stick to our own jobs: I'm doing queen stuff and you're researching spirit stuff."

"You need a break, Anna."

"No, you."

"You're right; I do need one."

"You're literally in the middle of one. You can't take a break from a break. That's not how relaxing works. Here, have some tea. Is it because there's stuff all around the couch? Are you claustrophobic? Oh shucks, I should have thought about that. Let me—"

Elsa gave Anna's hand a squeeze, ending her sister's ramble before it galloped away from them. "No, that's not it. I can't relax because the more I read, the more helpless I feel. Olaf and I went through everything we could find on the Nokk in the library: myths, sightings, fables… I've finished the Aren Tales series three times, and all I'm doing is wasting time. Reading about the Nokk doesn't bring me any closer to finding out what happened. Pabbie's vision showed the Nokk appearing in the future, but I don't know what that means. I don't have any other leads."

"Okay, pause," Anna said slowly. "You keep mentioning this vision, but I have no idea what you're talking about."

Elsa blinked. "Did I not tell you?"

"I think you kind of started to after we booted out Niklas? Something about ships? Then we started shouting at each other, stopped talking, blah blah, night terrors, hot cocoa, sleep—and now we're here. So, um… no."

"Oh."

For once in her life, it hadn't been intentional. Anna was right; so much had happened so quickly that there were many things Elsa hadn't had the chance to explain to her sister.

Gazing into Anna's trusting eyes, though, the words lodged in Elsa's throat. Because Pabbie had predicted more than sisters sundered and a bridge untethered; the auroras had shown him another spirit once more gone too deep, and Elsa did not want to think about the ways she could or could not control that. Before she laid it all on her sister, she could give Anna one more day of peace. One more night untouched by terrors and other dangers big sisters could not fight off. Elsa could control that much.

"I'll tell you tomorrow. I promise."

"You know dodging the question now makes me feel the opposite of better, right?"

"I know. It makes me feel better, though."

"Whoa there. Are you using selfishness to guilt trip me?"

"I'm suggesting," Elsa shifted Anna's hand so she could pick up the document underneath, "that you should let me help you because I find it more therapeutic than reading Aren Tales for the fourth time."

"Paperwork," Anna deadpanned, "is therapeutic to you."

"It has straightforward answers. This seems to be another marriage proposal, by the way."

"What? Who wants to marry you this time?"

"It's not for my hand." Elsa's eyes widened. "It's for Sven's… hoof?"

"Sven?" Anna shot out of her chair and clambered halfway across the desk to read over Elsa's shoulder. "… extend a humble invitation to Snoob's annual Christmas festi—oh my God. Elsa, you stinker!"

"You've done it to me enough times," Elsa said innocently.

"Not enough, clearly." Anna plucked the missive from Elsa's hand. "Also, I feel like I've called you a stinker enough times this week to make up for thirteen years. Now you have to do it, too. So I don't feel like a bully."

Elsa scrunched up her face in thought. "You… ignoramus?"

"Wow, sis."

There was a sudden ripple in Elsa's subconscious; a rush of belonging. Eyes lightening, she turned toward the window just as it blew open with a twittering gust.

"Gale, hey!" Anna laughed as the wind spirit deposited Bruni on her head. "And Bruni! Did you guys come down with Honeymaren and Ryder? Aww, I missed you, too!"

"Careful with the books and papers, you two," Elsa reminded, smiling.

"Oh, it's fine. Don't mind the party pooper."

Elsa crossed her arms. "I'm sorry—I'm forbidden from tidying, but Bruni and Gale have your blessing to make a mess?"

"Of course—keep up, sis." Bruni leaped into Anna's cupped hands. She brought him up to face level and nodded attentively. "Uh huh. What's that? Ryder's trying to grow a beard? No way!" Anna turned to Elsa with a grin. "You should go meet up with them. I'm about to find Oskar for a riding lesson, anyway; I left him hanging yesterday, and he's the type to hold killer grudges. See you at dinner?"

Elsa opened her mouth to protest, but Gale lifted Bruni and set him on her shoulder, both spirits eager. Elsa smiled ruefully. "Alright. But let me leave you with something." She raised her hand.

Anna instantly covered the back of her dress. "No ice cubes!" When Elsa burst into laughter, she huffed, "What? Your fault for setting a precedent."

"Fair. I guess that means you don't want this back?"

A snowflake-patterned bracelet reformed on Anna's wrist, twinkling in the sunlight.

"Oh…" Anna breathed. She ran her fingers over the delicate ice. "Thank you. I'll, um, be more careful with this one."

"Be more careful with yourself, please. You're not so easily replaced." Elsa hoped she would never sense the bracelet breaking ever again.

"Okay, when are you going to get over the running into fire thing?" Anna called after her. "Don't forget you still owe me a snowman!"

Elsa knew she shouldn't. They weren't children anymore; they had responsibilities and reputations to uphold, and a world of unknowns to face. Yet the thought of it only gave her all the more reason.

Ducking into the corridor, Elsa flashed a smile to Gale and Bruni. Watch this, she mouthed. Then she snapped her fingers.

"Ah! Cold cold cold! Elsa! Oh, that's right; you'd better run!"

Time was moving fast; but with her sister's laughter ringing in the air, Elsa remembered to count her blessings.

OoOoO

It took so much of Oskar's focus to stay in the saddle, it wasn't until they left behind the village proper that he took notice. "Why do you keep doing that?"

"Doing what?" Anna pinched the back of her tunic and flapped the fabric as if to usher in a breeze.

"That," Oskar retorted. "Someone put a spider down your shirt or something?"

"Ice cubes," she grumbled.

"… A spider dropped ice cubes down the back of your shirt?"

"Ew, no." Anna shuddered and ducked as Sven carried her under a low-hanging branch. "Just my stinker of a sister. I had to change out of my dress, and then I thought I'd just get straight into riding gear to meet you, and then I got caught up thinking about which pony you should take—and next thing I know, I've forgotten all about going back to finish my paperwork and we're out here in the woods. I swear Elsa dropped those ice cubes just to get me to take a break. What do you think, Sven?"

She leaned forward and put her face close to the reindeer's. "I think she's a big dork and deserves payback."

"Kristoff definitely does the voice better." The branch looked high enough to miss him, but Oskar ducked anyway. Clumsily shifting his centre of gravity meant he couldn't help bracing his legs against his pony's girth, which his steed interpreted as a cue to swerve off the path. "No, not that way! There's a tree right there—can't you see the tree?"

"Miska! Come here, girl." Anna whistled. Oskar's pony immediately changed tack and trotted over to push her muzzle into Anna's outstretched hand. Tickling Miska under the chin, Anna flashed Oskar a grin. "Miska is Kjekk's little sister, so I've been there all her life. We're best friends, aren't we, girl? Oh yes, we are!"

Oskar held the reins up to her; sitting astride Sven, Anna positively towered over him. "Then why don't you take her and let me ride Sven? Like you promised I could."

"You can play with Sven when we reach Oaken's. We're trying to teach you how to ride, and Sven's way too smart; he knows exactly what to do without commands. See?" Anna held both her arms aloft. Sven ambled on, unfazed. "You wouldn't learn acting."

"Show off," Oskar grumbled, nudging his pony to keep up. Compared to the horses he had seen Anna take out, Miska was pretty mellow. More importantly, she was small enough that he could sit comfortably and feel like he was vaguely in control. Most of the time. "And who's Oaken? If I get attacked with another broom, Anna, I swear…"

"You won't. Oaken is a pacifist—at least when you're not calling him a crook. So don't try to bargain with him like Kristoff did. Oaken runs a trading post out here so it's a nice trip for your first proper ride. Sven hasn't been out much lately, huh, bud? Anyway, Oaken always has some kooky stuff on sale. I figured you'd like to look around and maybe get something to spice up your room. That ought to make Emil jealous, hm?"

Home. Oskar's room back in the Southern Isles had been utilitarian despite the souvenirs Sofia insisted on buying for him each time they went on a trip with Prince Gregory. She got mad if he reminded her that someone like him had no place for gifts, let alone decorations, so Oskar had learned to keep his mouth shut and to placate her by displaying the bare minimum of trinkets on his windowsill. He wondered if they were still there, or if Caleb's men had torn the estate apart after their escape. He wondered if he would ever see the Isles again. And how he had ended up in this tiny, faraway kingdom with its reindeers and magic, and a queen who never seemed to stop thinking of others.

"This doesn't look like a quick trip. Don't you have a heap of work to do?"

"Oh, it's fine. Elsa helped me with the urgent stuff. I was dying for fresh air, and of course I have to make up for ditching you yesterday. Sorry about that."

"Doesn't matter. Mattias took me out and gave me some riding tips. He also gave me a knife."

Anna jerked around so quickly she nearly tumbled off Sven's back. "He gave you a what? Why?"

Oskar smugly patted the scabbard strapped on the back of his belt, concealed beneath his jacket. "He said it's not safe to go riding without a knife. And don't you say I'm too young to use one."

"You are too young."

"Not where I'm from," Oskar said simply.

Anna covered her face with a groan. "Fine, keep your knife. For now. I'm having a talk to Mattias later. You're slouching again."

Huffing, Oskar straightened in the saddle. Learning to ride was as tedious as his first archery lesson. There were so many things to remember—shoulders back, soft arms, heels down. At least in archery, his poor form wouldn't end in his missed target throwing him off.

"Much better," Anna approved from his left. She and Sven had slowed to match Miska's pace. With her hair drawn up in a single ponytail, and her simple tunic tucked into dark riding pants, Anna was the antithesis of Oskar's mental image of royalty. She looked too free, too happy.

"Good for you," he muttered.

"What was that?"

"It's about time you and your sister stopped pretending to be mad at each other. That was stupid."

"Stupid?" Anna sputtered. "Geez. Has anyone ever told you you're too honest, Oskar?"

Uneasiness jolted down his spine. But it wasn't a sly comment meant to test him. One look at Anna's sincere smile said it all; she didn't know, couldn't possibly suspect. Of course she didn't. There she was, reminding him in a singsong voice that he was slouching again.

This time, Oskar's shoulders felt too heavy for him to straighten. It was fine. He'd started off following all the rules, after all, and although Ragna and Emil hadn't stopped doubting his decision, Oskar didn't think it was the wrong one. He'd made the right choice—the only choice—that day. Keeping it up was as easy as doing nothing.

So why did it feel like it was getting harder?

"Anna?" he blurted.

"Mm?" She picked a flower off a branch and held it out for Sven to sniff. When Oskar said nothing, she looked quizzically over her shoulder. And peered past him. "Hey? Is that Mattias?"

Ignoring his cowardly relief, Oskar twisted around. Sure enough, the general was galloping up the path towards them on a horse so large and mighty that its shadow completely engulfed Oskar when he pulled up beside them.

"Your Majesty," Mattias said breathlessly, but Anna was louder.

"Mattias! You gave Oskar a knife?"

Mattias blinked at the finger she had jabbed at him. "Yes? Should I, er, not have done that? It's essential equipment when handling livestock. If he falls off and gets dragged along, he can use the knife to cut himself free."

Anna held out a hand. "He's twelve. I'm twenty-one. I want a knife, too."

"That's what you're upset about?" Oskar asked.

"What? It's only fair!"

"I'd be more than happy to let you have your pick of the armoury when we get back, ma'am." Mattias's expression became serious. "But for now, I came to give you a message. I thought you would want to know sooner rather than later."

A flash of fear overtook Anna's puzzlement. "Is Kristoff back? Did something happen to him?"

"Kristoff? No, no, we haven't heard from Weselton," Mattias said hastily. He placed a folded note in Anna's still outstretched hand.

Absently wrapping and unwrapping the reins around his hand, Oskar watched as Anna opened the note. Whatever it said, it likely marked the end of their little excursion. She was the Queen of Arendelle, and he was—

Then Anna glanced up from the note, biting her lip. And the moment their eyes met, Oskar knew.

It shouldn't surprise him. He'd prepared for this. He'd held Sofia's hand until the light left her eyes. Yet it felt like a boulder on his chest. "He's dead, isn't he?"

Anna pressed her lips together. Dismounting, she closed the distance between them and held the note out to him.

"Your Majesty… Anna." Mattias sounded surprised. "That's classified intel."

"It's okay." Anna's voice was soft. "It's his country."

Oskar had no conscious memory of taking the note and reading it. The words blurred together without meaning. Reports a week ago… storm… fallen siege… rebellion defeated…

No mention of survivors. He didn't need it. Because Prince Gregory had never lost a battle at sea—but against the sea? Against nature itself?

"At least he didn't lose to Caleb," Oskar heard himself say. "He would have hated that."

Anna laid a hand on his knee. "He could be safe. Regrouping."

"I'm fine."

"It'll be okay, Oskar."

"I said I'm fine." He leaned away, and Miska jittered under him. From the corner of his eye, he saw Anna take a loose hold of Miska's halter, as if she feared he would bolt. He would have chuckled if his chest didn't feel so tight. There was nothing to worry about—it wasn't like he had anywhere to go.

"We should get back and call a council meeting to discuss the new situation," Mattias told Anna. "Where are the others?"

"What others?"

"I saw more than two sets of recent tracks on the way up. You didn't take a guard detail with you?"

"About that… I thought you chased us down to tell me off for giving Linus and Peder an early lunch."

"And that would have been perfectly justified. Anna, we've talked about this. You can't keep giving your guards the slip—especially at a time like this."

"I know, I'm sorry. I just wanted to leave everything behind for a bit. It's only a quick trip to Oaken's, and look! There's no one around."

"Forgive me; is the thought of my queen wandering the deserted wilderness meant to make me feel better?"

A glint of light in the trees caught Oskar's eye, disappearing so quickly it would have gone unnoticed if he wasn't already staring in that direction. Squinting, he caught the silhouette of a figure moving through the undergrowth. "There," he said tonelessly, flicking his head. "Not deserted. You can stop arguing now."

"Really? Where?"

But by the time he pointed, the only movement came from gently swaying leaves.

"Where?" Anna asked again. "Are we looking for a bird? Oh boy, it better not be a wolf."

Oskar frowned. Storms and sieges faded from mind as something else crept up on him: an instinct he'd learned to trust since he could walk, telling him it wasn't a bird or a wolf. That it might not have been the reflection of sunlight on a waxy leaf that had drawn his attention in the first place.

"Anna," he began, turning to her just as there was a soft swish in the air. It was a sound distantly familiar, but which Oskar couldn't quite place.

Not until he heard the wet thwack that followed—that sound, he recognised immediately.

"Archers!"

But Mattias was already falling.

A/N: Does it help my case at all to mention that I originally didn't plan for this chapter to end on this much of a cliffhanger? Kristoff stole the spotlight for too many words and pushed everything one scene down. I have no other defence.

Thank you for reading and hope you're all doing well!