The Next Unknown

14 – Count Our Blessings

OoOoO

"Ooh, she's awake! Hi, Anna!"

She had definitely slept in; she could feel it. Her head pounded, which made no sense because it should be illegal for sleeping to hurt. And hurt she did, absolutely everywhere; heavy bones, stiff muscles, dry lips—

Anna groaned as she turned onto her side; that hurt, too. "Hi, Olaf… could you please speak a little softer? My head is killing me."

"Sure!" Olaf shouted, then dropped his voice to a stage-whisper. "Like this?"

Anna didn't remember falling back asleep, but she must have done exactly that because the next time she opened her eyes, the room had gone from black to grey.

Her headache had settled into a soft fuzziness, but now she was painfully aware of her outrageous thirst. Anna reached blearily for the bedside table, hoping to find a glass of water, and touched something cold and soft and familiar. "Oh... Sorry, Olaf."

No response, which was weird for Olaf. Anna rubbed her eyes, hoping she hadn't knocked his head off or… or…

Glowing blue eyes blinked.

Anna scrambled backwards with a yelp—and tumbled off the bed.

She'd fallen hundreds of times before, but never like this; not as if the impact had shattered either the earth or her bones, and there was no way to tell which it was because there was blood in her eyes and her hands were tied, and her head felt like it would—

Something licked her brow.

Anna cracked open an eye and saw nothing but snowy fur. Then she made out a dark nose and felt a snuff of air against her cheek, accompanied by a gentle paw on her shoulder.

The door banged open. "Anna! I heard—Anna?"

"Down here!" Anna sat up as Elsa rushed around the bed. "Hey, so I think I'm seeing things. There's a wolf? In my bedroom?"

It was difficult to make out Elsa's face in the dimness. Anna wasn't sure what she expected, but it certainly wasn't such a long… pause.

Elsa set something down on the bedside table. "Are you okay? Can you get up?"

"When have I ever not gotten back up?" Anna cracked as she took Elsa's outstretched hand, but it must have been the wrong thing to say because she felt her sister stiffen.

"Sit." Elsa planted Anna down on the bed and pressed a hand to her forehead. "Do you know where you are?"

"Uh, here."

"How old are you?"

"You're being weird."

"Anna."

"You're older."

"What's your favourite food?"

"Same as yours." At another firm look from Elsa, Anna rolled her eyes. "Chocolate. What's with all these questions?"

Elsa lowered her hand. "You got them wrong the last three times I asked you. You said your favourite food was green."

"Green? Wow, I'm a riot when I'm drunk."

"You weren't drunk, Anna. You had a concussion and a dangerously high fever."

"Oh." She didn't know what else to say, so she let Elsa coax her back down on the bed. "Have I mentioned there's a wolf in my room? Is he mine now? Can I give him a name?"

Elsa tucked the blanket into place. "You already did that last time you woke. Ulf."

The wolf's ears perked up. He rested his head on the bed, gazing unblinkingly at Anna.

Anna's brain had short-circuited. "Let me get this straight—you made a wolf with your powers. And instead of naming him something cool like—I dunno, Bandit?—you're saying I chose Ulf?"

"Yes."

"That's like calling Kjekk 'Horse'!"

"Yes, it is."

"Wait, I got it—it's because Ulf the Wolf is your favourite constellation. That's obviously what I was thinking."

"I doubt it. You kept saying 'He just looks like an Ulf'. You giggled until you fell back asleep."

Anna turned to the wolf. "Bandit?" she called hopefully.

A tilted head.

"… Ulf?"

With one graceful leap, the creature bounded onto the bed. He padded carefully over Anna's legs, nuzzled her face, then curled up by her side.

"Drats." Anna smoothed a hand over the white fur. It was a strange texture, so fine she kept expecting it to crumble. "Do I smell chocolate?"

Sighing, Elsa picked up a mug from the bedside table and watched Anna sit up. "Be careful; it's hot."

As soon as she touched it, though, Anna knew otherwise. "Actually…" She tipped the mug upside down.

"Oh. Sorry." For the first time since entering, Elsa sounded like herself. She righted the mug and waved her hand, thawing the contents.

It was convenient that the drink wasn't scalding hot; Anna gulped it down and barely remembered to save some for Elsa. When she passed it over, though, her sister shook her head. "You can finish it."

Anna ran a finger along the mug's rim. "Are you mad at me?"

"No."

"I'm sorry for making you worry. And sneaking away from my guards in the first place."

She heard another sigh, then felt a light kiss on the top of her head. "I really am not upset with you, Anna."

"But you are upset?"

"I don't know." Elsa's voice was a strained murmur against her hair. "Is there a word to describe my feelings towards my sister almost dying? Almost being killed?"

"I'm sorry," Anna's voice was as small as she felt.

"It's not your fault."

"I know. But I promised to break the bracelet if I was in danger… and I didn't do that."

There was a pause before Elsa spoke again. "I might not have gotten to you in time even if you had. I could have been too late."

"That wouldn't be your fault, either. It doesn't have to be anyone's fault. It just… happened. Sometimes bad things just happen."

"And sometimes," Elsa said darkly, "they find the wrong target."

'She'll come for you no matter where you end up.'

"Runo!" Anna gasped. "Elsa, he's not from Weselton. He's actually—"

"I know." The calmness in her sister's voice stumped Anna. Elsa eased the mug out of her hands. "I've got everything under control. You focus on getting more rest."

"No, you don't get it. Caleb must have sent Runo. That means—"

"I'm well aware of what that means." For an instant, Anna didn't recognise her sister; all she heard was the icy voice of a queen. Then Elsa glanced at her, and her frown receded. "When you're recovered, you can call a council meeting and do whatever you think is necessary. But for now, can we please pretend that our biggest problem is the bump on your head?"

Anna pursed her lips, but then Elsa squeezed her hand. "Oh, fine. Mind you, you're the only one allowed to go all Big Sister Voice on—wait, what happened to your hand?"

Elsa blinked and looked down at the bandage on her left hand. "Ah… it's a long story. I'll tell you in the morning. Worry about yourself first."

"I'm totally fine! Look!" Anna rubbed her head. "Whatbump?"

"Pabbie took care of that." Elsa tapped Anna's right temple. "But it looks like this might scar."

"Really?!" The exclamation made Ulf startle with a bark.

Elsa raised her eyebrows.

Anna cleared her throat and tried to remember how to look dejected. "I mean: oh no… really?"

"Anna, you're a queen, not a Viking."

"Hey, Mother had a scar on her arm. She told us she fell from a tree and that's why we shouldn't climb them. But she was really good at climbing them, remember?"

"I remember." Elsa's voice was light as the sun's rays.

Anna picked at the blanket. "Makes sense now, doesn't it? Since she was a Northuldra. Do you think Father knew? He must have, right? They were looking for Ahtohallan together."

Elsa smiled faintly. "I know their love was true."

"Not quite what I asked, sis."

"That's all I know." Elsa paused. "You forgot yesterday, you know. That they were gone."

"... You're kidding."

"You woke up crying because you wanted Mother's chicken soup. Poor Gerda was beside herself; she made half a dozen batches before she allowed me to try."

Anna turned her head. "You cooked?"

"I attempted to."

"No, no, listen to the question properly: you cooked?"

"Yes." Elsa's smile widened as she tucked her hair behind one ear. "I've seen Mother make it before, but I couldn't recall the recipe without going through the motions myself."

"Whoa. Was it so bad it put me back in a coma?"

"You liked it, actually. That was how I knew you were still delirious."

It felt good to laugh. Anna dropped her head on Elsa's shoulder, resisting the urge to rub her eyes. From the way Elsa shifted to make her more comfortable, though, she probably knew. Her sister's shoulder was still torturously bony, but Anna felt snug. Safe.

"Elsa?"

"Mm?"

"Thanks for making Ulf so he could, you know… save me."

Right before she drifted off, she heard Elsa whisper, "No, Anna; you saved yourself."

OoOoO

For the first time since Hakon Erling could remember, his mind was tired. But if he stopped thinking, he would start worrying. And if he started worrying, he would start remembering.

Huddled under the dining table, biting down on his jacket's collar to keep from crying as he clutched his arm. Watching his mother's shadow streak through the house, calling desperately for a "Hakon" that was not him. Waiting for her to remember that she still had a son; one she'd named after a dead man.

His shoulder ached.

"It's been too long," Petra grumbled in the next cell. "There should have at least been a guard change. "It's preposterous that they left us unsupervised in the interim, let alone for this long. It's time. Herman, Ronny—get ready."

Two cells away, Kristoff's look of fatigue switched to one of confusion. "Wait, what's happening?"

"We're leaving, sir."

"Right… and how exactly are we going to do that?"

Petra plucked a long, wooden hair pin from her silver hair, which remained coiffed in a strict bun; the pin was purely ornamental. When Petra tapped it against the bars with an unexpectedly solid clink, Hakon realised it wasn't wooden at all.

"Hold up," Kristoff blurted incredulously. "Are you telling me we've been stuck down here for nearly three days—and you've been sitting there with a lockpick in your hair this entire time?"

"My apologies. There wasn't an opportune moment to tell you." Petra inspected the lock on the door, then stuck her arm through the bars and started probing with the hair pin. "Now, though, seems to be an opportune time to leave."

"You—I can't even—okay, but then what? They have weapons, Petra. We don't."

She paused to crack her knuckles. "Don't we?"

"You can't go up against armed guards with your bare fists."

"Can't I?"

"I still have the dagger in my boot," Ronny called from another cell. "Buggers barely searched us properly, and they didn't even cuff us. It's almost like they want us to escape. "

"That's what I've been saying," Herman huffed. "What if it's a trap?"

"What of it?" Petra retorted. "We're already—literally—trapped. It's their word against ours. Prince Fredrik could be perfectly healthy and waltzing under the moonlight for all we know. We have our own prince to think of, and we're getting him home."

Kristoff ran a hand through his hair, which now looked as unwashed as Hakon felt. "I don't think the Duke was faking it. He desperately wanted an antidote. What if the crystals can't save Fredrik?"

"You're too naïve," Hakon said.

Kristoff and Petra startled; it seemed he had feigned sleep too well.

"You're all too focused on Weselton. It's exactly what he wants."

Kristoff glanced at Petra, then back at Hakon. "'He'?"

Isn't it obvious? It was there on the tip of Hakon's tongue, a reflexive splash of acid. Then he noticed the way Kristoff studied him with a slight frown, as if Hakon was a painting he believed he could still understand if he could only figure out the correct lens through which to view him.

It was futile: no one truly saw through Hakon.

She couldn't see him, but he told himself that it would only take a few more minutes. Soon, Mother would calm down and remember him, and then he could crawl out. He'd tell her he had tripped down the stairs and let her fuss over him and call him her "sweet, uncoordinated boy", as if she hadn't mistaken him for an intruder and pushed him herself. They could be normal again in just a few more minutes. For a few more days, if he was lucky.

"Who do you think stands to gain the most from framing Arendelle for Prince Fredrik's death? Who would least want to see our two nations forming an alliance at this time?"

Kristoff grimaced. "Ah. The Southern Isles. Those buggers."

"The Duke confirmed that Gregory's siege failed. If Caleb intends to follow through with his threat to attack, none would expect him to do it so soon. Gregory would not have given Caleb an easy victory, which means Caleb's troops and resources should be exhausted right now. They wouldn't stand a chance against a united front. If that alliance was fractured, though, and its leadership thrown into disarray…"

"He's mad." Kristoff sounded awed.

"Brilliantly mad," Hakon corrected. "If Gregory had the keenest eye for combat in the Isles, then Caleb has the sharpest eye for strategy. He was nothing but a loose cannon under his father's watch, but the madness is a foil; he knows exactly what he's doing. I expect the Duke also understood the situation when he realised it wasn't us who poisoned Fredrik. Why do you think we're sitting here under such low security? The Duke doesn't care about us, or any political scandal. Weselton be damned—that boy is his world. If Fredrik dies, I wouldn't put it past the Duke to simply surrender when ships appear on the horizon. Caleb knows that, and I know him. He's incapable of discovering weaknesses and not using them."

Hakon looked at Kristoff. "Now, see if you can make sense of this one on your own. The Duke is the backbone of Weselton. If you planned on turning two nations against each other, wouldn't you seize the chance chance to weaken them both?"

Kristoff paled. "Arendelle. Anna."

"Exactly." Hakon turned back to Petra. "So, hurry up and get us out of here."

"I'm trying. My hands would be steadier if those cross-eyed goat monkeys had the decency to feed us properly."

His stomach rumbled in the dark. Mother was still crying upstairs and he didn't dare make noise in the kitchen—as far as she knew, he wasn't supposed to exist. And maybe it would be better if he didn't; but the searing pain in his shoulder reminded him he was here, and that he was hungry. So he slipped out and followed the familiar aroma of Katja's soup. By the time he reached the orphanage, he had an iron-clad explanation for his bruises. "I'm fine"was hardly a lie by this point. He was fine. He was always fine.

"Got it!" Petra kissed her lock pick and kicked open her cell door—

—at the same time that a guard rounded the corner.

The man stared. Then he bellowed, "Prisoner on the—"

Petra darted under his frantic spear thrust and cut him off with a knee to the gut. Twisting the spear out of his grasp, she slammed him in the wall. In a flash, she had the blade pointed between his eyes. "Keys. Now."

He shook his head, gasping.

She rolled her eyes and kicked him in the crotch.

Wincing, Kristoff watched the guard drop bonelessly to the floor. "I take back what I said about bare fists."

Stampeding footsteps echoed off the walls.

"What in nine hells is going on?" The Duke of Weselton pushed his way through the throng of guards. He let out a squeak when he saw Petra glowering at him, and hurriedly ducked back behind his men. "How did you—oh, for God's sake, put that down! I come in peace!"

"We came in peace, you bald rooster," Petra shot back. "Pardon me for having no confidence in your definition of the word."

"Tell her to put down her weapon," the Duke hissed at Hakon.

"You're mistaken, Your Grace; I'm not the highest-ranking official in our party."

The Duke huffed and shot an irritable look down the cell block. "Call her off before she gets hurt," he told Kristoff.

"Fredrik is still alive, then," Hakon said. "You'd have left us to rot down here otherwise. Except you don't look like you came to thank His Highness, so why don't we cut to the chase?"

The Duke puffed out his chest. "I came to talk business."

Hakon and Kristoff shared a look.

"Yeah," Kristoff intoned. "We don't trust your definition of that word either."

Clicking his tongue in annoyance, the Duke snapped his fingers. Someone handed him a stack of clipped papers, which he tossed onto the floor between him and Petra. When no one moved or spoke, the Duke muttered under his breath and snapped his fingers a second time. A jangle of keys landed on top of the papers.

Petra used the spearpoint to fish up the keys by the ring, and launched them through the bars of Kristoff's cell, keeping her eyes on the annoyed Duke.

Kristoff stuck his hand through the bars and fumbled until he found the keyhole. Hakon realised he had expected another trick from the Duke until there was a click. Then, when his own cell door opened, he realised a part of him had also expected to be left behind.

"You sure you're okay?" Kristoff asked in a low voice.

He didn't see her until she pulled out the chair opposite him. He couldn't remember the last time someone had tried to sit with him at the dinner table, and hoped for a second that it was Katja, finally realising that something was wrong. But the other child didn't speak, so he didn't look up. They ate in silence until he finished his soup and reached for a bread roll. And felt a tug from the other end.

"Sorry," she said sheepishly, drawing back. "You can have it."

Finally, he glanced up and blinked as he took in the brown-haired teenager sitting across from him. He'd never seen her before; was she new? The war was over. Everyone but his mother knew it had ended before he was born. But at least he still had a mother. If this girl was here, it meant she didn't.

He started tearing the breadroll in half, but a painful twinge lanced down his bruised arm. The bread dropped onto his plate.

The girl stared, then got up and came around the table. "Hey, are you okay?"

He didn't register that he'd shaken his head until he was crying into her shoulder.

Hakon bent to pick up the papers on the floor. When he handed the stack to Kristoff, though, the queen's husband shook his head. "You read faster. And smarter."

It only took one glance for Hakon to recognise the document in his hands. "This is our trade agreement."

The Duke cleared his throat. "It's been amended."

Hakon flipped through the pages. "You're not giving us iron."

"What?" Kristoff rounded on the Duke. "Come on, old man; you were about to sign off on it earlier—you know Anna handed you the best deal you're going to get before the Southern Isles comes knocking. And they will come because they're already here. If you still think we poisoned Fredrik, then either you're an even bigger idiot than I am, or Caleb's got you in his pocket so—"

"If you think I'm working with the bastard who tried to murder my nephew, then you are an even bigger idiot than you know," the Duke snapped.

"You know it was Caleb?"

"Of course I bloody know it was Caleb!"

"Then why the hell did you turn on us?"

"Because it would be simpler if Arendelle was behind it! Good lord, you're as dense as a buffalo. Caleb sent that preposterous blackmail, and no one responded. But if he really is the one who came after Fredrik—after me—then that means he's coming for all of us. So, sign that blasted agreement already."

Looking bewildered, Kristoff turned around. "Erling?"

Hakon looked up from the pages of the agreement. "He's not giving us iron. He's offering us readymade weapons and armour."

"I'm offering you proper instruments of war," the Duke pointed out, "unlike whatever toys your peace-loving smiths would have made. If Caleb's already making his move, we don't have the time for you to spend months banging at metal. You're lucky Weselton is always ready."

"That's an interesting way to admit you're paranoid. We appreciate the offer, but Queen Anna sent us here to purchase raw materials. We don't have the sums to pay for those weapons."

"Of course you don't. That's why I included a clause detailing reparations once we've won this senseless war."

"You're giving us a loan? From the goodness of your heart?"

"That's a sneaky way to accuse me of being stingy," the Duke scowled.

"Have you looked in a mirror?"

"Are you trying to make me retract my generous terms?"

"They are too generous, aren't they? What do you get out of this?"

"Not enough, which is why a signature alone will not satisfy me. If Caleb knows what he's doing—and I'm willing to bet that he does—he will hit Weselton first and Arendelle last. We have far greater military strength than you, but let me hear you vow, right now, that when the time comes, Arendelle will remember Weselton's favour."

"I assure you, Arendelle will honour all conditions—"

"No. Every word that rolls off your silver tongue comes with a dozen loopholes." The Duke nodded at Kristoff. "You. I want your word."

Kristoff blinked. Hakon expected him to look back at him for advice, but it didn't happen.

Kristoff stepped forward, gently lowering Petra's spear as he passed her. Stopping in front of the Duke, he held out his hand. "Anna is Queen of Arendelle, so it's her promises that matter. All I can give you is my word that I know the woman I married. She would never turn her back on anyone, least of all an ally."

For a long moment, the Duke studied Kristoff through his spectacles. Then he harrumphed and slapped a bronze pen into Kristoff's hand, lingering for a half-second handshake. "Just sign it and get on the ship before your sister-in-law notices you've been gone too long. I've already witnessed what she can do because of family. I'm not keen on discovering what she will do for them."

Kristoff gestured for Hakon to pass him the agreement. "If you think Elsa's the scary one, you're not ready for Anna. She's a real feisty… hold on—did you say 'ship'?"

OoOoO

As soon as Honeymaren and Ryder's wagon disappeared across the bridge, Anna whirled around and said, "Okay, spill."

Elsa choked on the yawn she'd been hiding behind her hand. "I-I don't know what you're—"

"Yeah, no, you are way too smart to play dumb. That was the most awkward goodbye ever. What happened between you guys? And don't say 'nothing' as if it's normal for Honeymaren and Ryder to suddenly leave at, like, five o'clock in the morning. No sane person does that."

"Kristoff does for his harvesting trips. Just because you're not a morning person doesn't mean others can't be. That's why I told you to go back to sleep."

"You know what you didn't tell me? That they were leaving today. If it's supposed to be so oh la la, top secret mission, maybe you shouldn't have tripped on those pots and pans and woken me up."

"Which we need to discuss. Why on earth do you have kitchenware sitting on the floor of your bedroom?"

"Gerda thought it would catch out assassins. At least we can tell her it works. Now stop dawdling and tell me what's going on!"

In the feeble lantern light, Elsa considered the sight of her sister standing there with her nightgown and wild bed hair. If Anna was perceptive enough to pick up on the atmosphere, maybe she was well enough for the truth. So she sighed and let her sister tug her towards the castle. "Close the gates, please," she called back to the guards. Sensing Anna's dismay, Elsa patted her hand. "We'll open them again when the day begins. It's just for… safety."

"I get it," Anna sighed. "I just thought we were done with being shut in here while everything happens out there."

Elsa glanced over at her sister's glum smile. Anna trudged after her like she used to as a child, pouting and making Elsa feel guilty for cleaning up the snow so their parents wouldn't know they'd been out of bed for hours before sunrise. "How would you feel about hot cocoa?"

"Do you even have to ask?" Anna's stride regained its bounce as they walked through the empty corridors. "Don't think I haven't noticed you're still trying to distract me. Did you three have a fight? Are you embarrassed? You know I've got your back, right?"

"No such thing happened. I promise I'll answer all your questions as soon as we sit down."

"I've done nothing but sit and sleep! You and Mattias barely let me go down to eat in the dining hall. I'm fine, Elsa. See?" Anna skipped ahead and performed a lopsided pirouette that nearly sent her careening into the wall. "Okay, but I could never do one of those to begin with."

Elsa's gaze lingered on the still-tender scar that ran down the side of Anna's right temple. Anna didn't remember those first few days, when she had been the furthest from 'fine'; how, despite Pabbie's magic, Elsa had been forced to watch her sister mumble incoherently through a raging fever no ice could quell. There had been nausea, tears, and delirium. The worst, though, had been the flashes of fear each time Anna momentarily regained consciousness and stared back at her with a stranger's glazed eyes.

"Hi, Ulf!"

Elsa absolutely did not mean to squeak and leap behind Anna.

The wolf looked up at her, head tilted, then padded to Anna, who was laughing so hard her face was red. "Eep. You actually said eep! Ulf, your mother is a shiny scaredy cat."

"I am not his mother!"

"Don't listen to her." Anna knelt down and rubbed Ulf's cheeks. "Who's a good Ulf? Are you a good Ulf? Oh yes, you are!"

Elsa watched them silently. Ulf tipped his head back and his bright eyes locked with hers.

Olaf wouldn't have been able to startle her like that. She would have sensed him, the same way she had woken after Ahtohallan and known that Marshmallow and the snowgies were gone, too. Not that Elsa didn't have that link with Ulf; like the others, he was a familiar spectre roaming the back of her mind. But he was the only one whose connection to her seemed to wane when Anna was in both their sights.

The sky lightened as they moved through the castle, but the kitchen, sitting deep in the building's bowels, remained pitch black. Elsa raised her hand, intending to create a trail of crystals—until she noticed Ulf was glowing in the dark. His fur became radiant, scattering glittery fractals across the walls like constellations.

"Epic," Anna breathed. "Did you know he could do that?"

"No, actually." Elsa lit the stove and put on a kettle of water. By the time she turned back around, Anna had unearthed a knife and was peeling an apple. "Be careful with that, please."

"Says the one who sliced open her own hand. Ryder told me you were helping him carve a wooden wolf. Is that where your inspiration for Ulf came from? Aside from the favourite constellation thing, I mean."

Elsa's hand was mostly healed; without the bandages, all that remained was a faint streak across her palm. "I honestly couldn't tell you."

"Fine. Then tell me about Honeymaren and Ryder instead. I'm sitting now." Anna boosted herself onto the countertop. Ulf sat down on the floor in front of her, resting his head atop one of her dangling feet.

It struck Elsa that the recent string of disasters had turned too many thoughts into secrets, which now threatened to burst from her chest. She could no longer hold them all in. "They were attacked in the square… by a citizen of Arendelle. At knifepoint."

The apple rolled across the floor and under a stool. Ulf bounded after it.

"They were what?"

"They stayed until now because they were worried about you… and because Mattias and I didn't think it would be safe for them to be seen leaving after what happened. Sending a contingent to escort them would have drawn too much attention. That's the reason they left so early."

"Why wouldn't it be safe for them in Arendelle? If it was just one person—" Anna's eyes widened. "It was Freya, wasn't it? Hakon's mother? She's ill, Elsa—she mistakes me for Mother and thinks Father is still the king. Seeing Honeymaren and Ryder in the square probably frightened her. To her, the Northuldra are still our enemies."

"Anna, Freya may not be the only one who believes that. The square was full. Many saw what happened… and no one stepped forward to help Honeymaren and Ryder. If I hadn't been there—"

"That can't be right," Anna said desperately. "They've been selling at the market for months now. Everyone knows them. Florian gives them free cookies, and you know how stingy he is to everyone except us. Someone would have said something."

"I know." Elsa let out a pent up breath. "You're not the only one who wants to believe in our people."

The sound of crackling flames under the kettle made its feeble attempt to fill the silence that grew between them. The water was taking unusually long to boil. Elsa wondered if that was her fault.

"Maybe this is what Kristoff was talking about." Anna's eyes were fixed on Ulf, as he pawed curiously at the apple she had dropped. "He was bullied for a bunch of things growing up, but he told me it got worse when he learned about his heritage and started wearing Sami clothes. The other kids made fun of his shoes and said he smelled like reindeer before Sven was even in the picture. And when he became an ice harvester, he kept getting scammed. It was hard for him to trust people, so he just… didn't. Not until he met us. Then suddenly everyone was nice to him. I thought it was just both sides, you know—seeing the light or something."

Anna turned to Elsa with a lost expression. "I guess what I'm trying to say is… Kristoff is different, but he still grew up in Arendelle."

"Honeymaren and Ryder are another kind of different," Elsa finished softly, "and they are Northuldra."

"Well, so are we."

Silence.

Anna sullenly said, "I wish Kristoff was here. What if that letter we got from Weselton was a fake?"

It had been a momentous delivery. The sight of a Weselton rider galloping towards the castle had sent the castle into a mad scramble. Mattias had mobilised a dozen guards to intercept the messenger while Elsa looked on from a watchtower, waiting for any sign of trouble. It had puzzled her to see one of Mattias's men run off, only to return with a bucket of water and an armful of hay for the exhausted horse.

Apparently, the Duke had instructed the man to ride hard and see that 'the Snow Queen received her brother-in-law's report of good health post-haste'.

"Well, if Kristoff's okay, at least it confirms that Runo really was lying about Weselton hiring him. Mattias said he found a bounty note in his pocket, 'signed' by the Duke. Can you believe that? I mean, I'm flattered by the bounty, but really? That's so dumb. I've been thinking—Oskar said the twins got caught messing around in Corona before, so maybe Runo was just getting into trouble by himself. Caleb might not be involved."

Ulf raised his head and looked straight at Elsa. She wondered how acutely he sensed the storm beneath her skin. The wolf didn't speak, but she could almost hear his voice feeding into her turmoil: Don't tell her. She doesn't need to know.

Except Anna was the queen. And she might always be Elsa's little sister, but the scar on her brow was a stark reminder that not even magic could protect her forever.

Elsa twisted her fingers. "I… wouldn't be so quick to rule out Caleb."

"Oh. Did you talk to Runo?"

"I didn't."

"Is he being tight-lipped? Let me have a go at him… Elsa? I think the water's boiling."

It wasn't. The kettle was steaming, but only because the water within had turned to ice.

Elsa clenched her fists, her jaw, her entire body. Then she forced herself to release the tension as she met Anna's eyes. "You can't speak to him, Anna. He didn't wake up. He's…"

Don't tell her. Don't tell her.

Ulf returned to Anna's side and sat at her feet once more.

Elsa shut her eyes. "He's dead."

"… What?"

"Runo is dead." Pained, Elsa opened her eyes to see her sister's blank expression. "He was already unconscious when we found you, but then he… deteriorated rapidly. We tried to get him to the trolls. He didn't make it."

"But… what…" Anna's desperate eyes searched Elsa's. "I don't get it. What happened? He was fine—even after Oskar did a number on him. Ulf barely touched him. And all I did was—" She stopped. Went pale.

Lie to her. She'll believe you. She wants to believe you.

"Elsa," Anna whispered. "I hit him on the head."

"I know."

"Really hard."

"I know."

"No, you don't understand." Anna's voice trembled. "I hit him really hard. The crossbow broke. I heard—"

Elsa wrapped her arms around Anna; her sister crumpled into her, sliding off the counter to bury her face in her shoulder. This is why I wanted you to sit down, Elsa thought hazily.

Oskar had described it to her. The crack. The blood streaming from Runo's nose, mixed with tendrils of clear fluid. She had seen for herself the terrible bruise on his skull as he'd lain white with death in the dungeon. On her ice. Again.

"Anna, he would have killed you and Oskar."

"But he didn't." Anna drew in a small, muffled gasp as she clutched Elsa's arms. "I killed him."

But Elsa knew it was her fault. If she hadn't kept begging the universe to let her sister spend one more day happy and carefree… and another, then another. If she had let go earlier, would Anna have grown cautious enough to bring guards with her that day? Would Runo be chained in the dungeon, resentful but alive? Would her little sister still have blood on her hands?

"I'm sorry," Elsa whispered. "I'm sorry, Anna."

"I didn't mean to do it… I really didn't."

Elsa could only hug her sister tighter. "You're alive," she whispered. "Don't apologise for that."

"God, when word gets out… Runo wasn't some random bandit. He was a prince…"

"I know that you're scared. You might never forgive yourself. I didn't—haven't. So I won't tell you to do that, and I won't try to convince you it was the right thing to do. But we won't stop loving you because you're alive. Do you understand that?"

Anna went quiet. "I was going to say that won't make his family feel any better, but then I remembered they might not even care. And that's… worse. But I still need to tell them."

"No, you don't."

"Elsa, I know Runo is… was… a prince, and this could start something big."

There's no point telling her. It will just make her worry.

No. No more secrets.

"I think the worst is yet to come," Elsa murmured. "Sending Runo could have been nothing more than a distraction. The vision I've been telling you about; I went to the trolls hoping to find clues about the Nokk, but Pabbie showed me more than that. Something had angered the Nokk, and it wasn't me. There were ravens, too; I'm not yet sure what that means. But I also saw a sword. I saw you get hurt. And I saw ships, Anna."

She hated seeing the conflict of emotions warring on Anna's face as her sister wavered between grief and her duties as queen. "How many?"

Elsa gave her sister's hand a small squeeze. "It will be alright. We'll face it together."

"Niklas," Anna said abruptly. "He didn't make the trip to form an alliance with Arendelle. He wanted your powers on his side. And Runo… I think he only used me as bait. He knew you'd come after me."

It was a good thing that Anna hadn't been conscious to witness Elsa's reaction when she had come to the same conclusion that first night. It meant that Elsa could keep her expression neutral, and her hands steady.

It didn't escape her notice that Ulf grew brighter, though.

"You should, too, Anna."

"Should what?"

"Use me."

"What? Stop talking about yourself like you're some sort of weapon!" Anna gripped Elsa's arms. "I've told you a hundred times: you can't keep setting yourself on fire for other people, Elsa."

"Would you be able to do it, Anna? Watch Arendelle burn, knowing that you could put out the fire faster than a hundred men could fill their buckets? Caleb may seem to have taken leave of his senses, but he is far from a fool. He wouldn't attack Arendelle without some sort of countermeasure against my powers. You can't afford to keep sidelining me."

"I'm not saying… I know your magic is strong; I know you are strong. But I—" Anna wrung her hands. "If I use you like that, how am I any different to Niklas and Caleb?"

Elsa gave a slight smile. "You don't need to be different. You are the difference."

Anna stared back at her, brow puckered, eyes clear as windows into her soul. "That's not fair. I told you to stop using that as your ace card."

"Then let me be Arendelle's ace card, Anna."

"Wow. Arrogant much?" Anna sighed. "Well… what do we do now, sis?"

"For starters, you'll need to forgive me." Elsa cleared her throat. "I… may have exercised my powers as regent while you were indisposed."

"… What did you do?"

OoOoO

"That's quite an ability," Hendrick quipped, eyeing the flawless ice coffin encasing Runo's body. "No wonder you didn't stand a chance against her, Hansy."

"Don't call me that."

"You should be happy about your promotion. Aksel and Gregory are dead, Lars scurried off, and the others as good as defected. If Rudi also doesn't return from Weselton, that makes you, what, second in line after me? That's a considerable upgrade."

Someone behind them obnoxiously cleared their throat. "Third in line. F-For the throne."

Hendrick rolled his eyes so dramatically that Hans saw it without turning his head. "As opposed to the bathroom line, yes. Thank you for clarifying. Go call your father, boy."

"I am not a boy! I am the crown prince of—"

Hans looked over his shoulder at his oldest nephew; a tall, knobbly kneed scarecrow of seventeen. They were closer in age than Hans was to Caleb, yet the boy immediately looked chastised when their eyes met. Crown prince of chickens. "If you had even a single brain cell, you would make yourself scarce before Caleb catches on that you're too cowardly to go near a dead body."

"I'm not—"

"Jesper. Scram."

Watching their nephew shuffle out of the hall, Hendrick shook his head. "Our parents spoiled Caleb into fearing nothing, and now Helena's coddled their son so much he has the spine of an earthworm. We'd better start raising the white flags as soon as that boy ever becomes king. Good thing there might not be a nation left after this war." He shot Hans a sideways look. "I thought this would end after Gregory was out of the picture. Caleb has a plan, right?"

"Hell if I know."

"Bullshit. That creepy blood bond means you're in each other's head."

"He is not in my head," Hans snapped.

"I am, though," the voice pointed out smugly.

Grinding his teeth, Hans glowered at Hendrick. "His thoughts are too chaotic to understand, so you'll forgive me if I'm uninterested in learning the inner workings of a… of someone like him."

"You should just say it, little brother."

Caleb strode into the hall.

Hans suspected that his brother could somehow suppress their connection at will, allowing him to blindside him like this. "Your Majesty."

Caleb smiled coolly. "That's not the word you were thinking earlier. It was shockingly barbaric. Mother would be appalled."

Their mother hadn't left her room since Hans had moved back into his. According to Hendrick, she hadn't seen daylight since their father's death. The only one she talked to was three-year-old Christian, who the maids believed she kept mistaking for Aksel.

Caleb ran a finger across the ice coffin. "Such beautiful workmanship, and the consideration to preserve our brother's body on his last journey. Arendelle sent us quite a gift."

"It's practically a declaration of war," Hendrick said.

"No; this is growth. The Snow Queen believes she has seen through our best move and wants us to know it. She's finally learning to use her reputation."

Caleb might have put up mental walls between them, but Hans had spent too long reading other people to miss the satisfaction in his brother's voice. "You wanted them to fail," he accused. "Killing a prince, kidnapping a queen, turning two nations on each other—it's too much for Rudi and Runo, and you knew it. If those idiots were capable of subtlety, they wouldn't have gotten caught in Corona. Yet you still separated them and sent them with no backup."

"I didn't want it," Caleb answered calmly, still running a hand along the ice coffin. "I merely expected it. It would have been ideal if Runo had brought back the Queen of Arendelle, and I would have preferred an informant in their dungeon as opposed to our crypt. Now, though, it is they who have provoked us. Our conquest has merit."

Hans's fist slammed down on the coffin. "Everyone knows you don't give a rat's ass about merit! Damn it, Caleb—Runo is dead."

"So are Father, Aksel, and Gregory. You seem disproportionately upset over someone who pretended you were invisible for two years. Or is it the length of your own paltry life that worries you? Fret not, little brother." Caleb raised his right arm. "We are connected, you and I."

The matching script carved into Hans's left arm tingled. Brother.

The coffin felt hot as flames beneath his hand. The magical ice called to him. To the water spirit trapped beneath his skin.

"Go on."

Hans's head snapped up. "What?"

Taking a step back, Caleb nodded towards the coffin. "You want to break something. You've had enough time to experiment with your new talent. Show me."

He couldn't be serious. "I can barely draw water up the well as it is. How do you expect me to shatter ice?"

"Ice is but the solid state of water, is it not?" Caleb's gaze drilled into him. "If you can't do this, how am I to trust you can fulfil the first promise you made to me? That, after all, is the only reason you are still breathing."

This time, it was Hans's turn to raise his arm as a reminder. "Except now you can't kill me without killing yourself. Connected, remember?"

"Did you forget you are speaking to a man who lost all interest in living twelve years ago?"

Hans's eyes flicked briefly towards the gold chain barely visible around Caleb's neck. Caleb had worn it for most of Hans's life, but now he knew what dangled from the other end: a pendant with a woman's portrait.

When his gaze returned to Caleb's face, his brother's smile was even more chilling. "Caleb—sir. Be reasonable. I can't—"

Caleb raised one hand and, looking directly at Hans, used his other hand to bend his fingers backwards.

Hans yelped as the pain ignited. Same hand, same fingers. The unflexed limb looked no different, and yet the sensation of overstretched tendons and screaming joints was very, very real. "Stop! Stop it!"

Caleb's fingers were now nearly perpendicular to the back of his hand. He wouldn't hesitate to break both their hands, and Hans knew it. Because Caleb's inability to feel pain had never stopped him from inflicting it.

"Go on," the king said again.

Hans's other hand was still fisted atop Runo's coffin. The unnaturally cold ice had snared his skin, holding him in place. There was nowhere to run. No point.

He tried. He reached into the power swimming within, and pulled. That was how he'd learned to transfer water from one glass to another with a thought, and to walk across the courtyard untouched by last night's rainstorm.

Yet the only thing the ice—Elsa's ice—gave him was a feeble rattle.

Caleb's fingers arched towards his wrist.

Help me, Hans demanded.

Nothing. He expected spite from the water spirit, who had so far conspired to do nothing but sabotage his attempts to wrestle its element under his control. It usually took enjoyment in his pain and ought to be taunting him right now. Instead, it had burrowed so deeply in his subconscious that, for the first time since the iron basin, Hans found himself with uncontested reign over the river within.

"It is hiding from you because it knows that it can be done," said the voice.

Then make it tell me how!

"Unnecessary. Water has memory."

The bones in his hand crackled.

Hans squeezed his eyes shut. And he saw.

The intruder had frozen the wave, but the Dark Sea was more than that. More than her. It sank, pummelled, dragged. Unworthy. When she slammed her mortal hands into its legs and froze its body with her false element, it finally took her seriously.

Hans stopped pulling.

He pushed.

The coffin exploded beneath his hand. Water surged across the polished floor.

The pressure on his hand eased.

Hans sank to his knees, gasping. Runo's body lay soaked before him, and bile rose in his throat.

"Next time, you'll do it faster." Caleb paid no heed to the squelching of his shoes as he crouched beside Runo. He drew a dagger from his belt; when he seemed to register the tremble of his injured hand, nonchalantly switched the blade to his other hand. "Now, leave us."

"You piece of—"

Hendrick grabbed Hans and dragged him out of the hall, snapping at the exhausted guards to shut the doors. "Haven't you learned your lesson? He's the king!"

"He's not human!"

"And what good would it do to—hang on. You're bleeding."

Hans looked down; a patch of crimson had grown on his white linen shirt, accompanied by a prickling pain that made him inhale sharply. He ripped open the shirt to find his chest slick with blood.

On the left, right above his heart, shallow scratches etched out a perfect circle. It was ringed by that same, ancient script, and it chilled Hans to know that, behind the doors, Caleb was writing them on his own skin—without a hint of pain.

"Ah," the voice murmured. "It has been a long time indeed."

Hendrick had gone pale, staring at the mark on Hans's chest. "Shit. That's his plan?"

"I swear to God, Hendrick; if you know something I don't—"

"I already told you: you didn't see what happened to Aksel."

A/N: Fun fact: 'Ulf' apparently means "wolf" in Norwegian, so 'Ulf the Wolf' is really "Wolf the Wolf"! That was a constellation mentioned in the Forest of Shadows novel and when I conceived Elsa's wolf, I couldn't see the connection.

Also on the topic of Forest of Shadows, don't worry if you haven't read it! If I incorporate anything from the book, it will be the setting more than the story, which will be explained without requiring context. I don't intend to use it as canon content, so there's no assumption that the sisters experienced and remembered the events of the book.

Stay safe and see you next chapter!