The Next Unknown
16 – Secret Siren
OoOoO
"Hold up," Mattias said as he stared down at the maps. "Are you telling me there's a direct passage into the castle from the bakery?"
"Uh huh! Except it's practically in their oven, so I'd recommend just using the front door. Oh, unless you've got permafrost like me! Can you have permafrost like me? Elsa, have you tried turning—"
"Let's give Mattias a moment, Olaf," the princess suggested, placing a hand on the snowman's head. "I think he needs time to digest your wisdom."
"Forget wisdom—I need an updated blueprint!" Mattias gesticulated wildly at the scrolls laid across the length of the table. "We need to completely overhaul our defence plan. There are literally twice as many hidden passageways as I remember."
Belland refilled his teacup. "I'm inclined to believe they were always there, only forgotten. Thirty-four years ago, we did not have Queen Anna and Sir Olaf to stumble on them in their free time."
The snowman clapped his twig hands together. "Ooh, Sir Olaf! I like the sound of that."
The tea was too strong. Belland reached for the milk only to find that Princess Elsa had already nudged the tray towards him after her use. He tipped his head towards her and poured a dollop of white into the murky brown, studying its monochrome swirls as he stirred. "King Runeard was protective of the castle's blueprints. It would have been problematic had they fallen into the wrong hands."
He felt the Snow Queen's astute gaze on him. "You don't approve of our decision to share them with the public?"
"I did not say that, ma'am."
"If you truly are of the opinion that this is a bad idea, we would appreciate your honesty. We value your advice."
What Belland heard was: Otherwise, I would not have trusted you to watch over Anna.
How many hours, days, years, had he spent within these council chambers? How many nights had he escaped here to spare himself the sight of his sickly wife deteriorating helplessly before his eyes? How many maps had he pored over with his colleagues—strategising ambushes and deciding bloody fates with the whimsy of moving chess pieces? When was the last time Belland had sat in this chair, stared down at these same blueprints, and not been expected to plot warfare?
At least, not of this kind.
"I do not think it is a bad idea, ma'am. It is true those passages were originally designed for the royal family's sole use. That is not mutually exclusive with the fact that the castle is the safest place for the populace to take shelter. It is only logical to make the people aware of alternate paths into the castle, especially considering some of those passages provide evacuation routes into the mountains should the castle be compromised."
Princess Elsa's tone was more inquisitive than confrontational. "But?"
Belland felt Mattias's eyes on him. If the other councillors were present, too, Belland knew they would also be watching him. Gauging him. Waiting for instruction; example; wisdom.
It had been that way since he was a boy. Including the fateful day he and his cousin had chased each other down to the docks, vying to take their fathers' boats out for a race. They had not expected to trespass upon a sullen young prince skipping pebbles on the water, no guards in sight.
If Belland had called off the race and given the prince his privacy, his cousin would have followed him without question. It was a loyalty as reliable as the rise of the sun: despite being far more intelligent, Hakon had followed Belland around from the moment their mothers had set them down in the same cot.
That day had been no different. When Belland had decided to calmly walk past the sulking prince towards the boats, Hakon had followed without hesitation.
Instead, he had faltered on another detail. "Hey, Iver? Should we invite him? He looks lonely."
"He looks angry. Why would you want to invite a prince—the prince—to go fishing for oysters?"
"I don't know. Maybe he wants to be invited. I'm going to ask him."
It was that moment—three boys on a dock—that had triggered the start and end of everything.
If Belland had decided to return home; if Hakon had approached with pity instead of sincerity, then Runeard would not have ventured onto the boat with them that day. But it had happened, and a different tide had borne them back to the dock that afternoon—for they had befriended a prince. A king. Gone was the future of a life chained to their families' stalls, selling seafood day after day. In the blink of an eye, the world itself had suddenly become their oyster.
If only that dream could have lasted another twenty years.
Belland met the Snow Queen's eyes. In the right light, he used to see a young Runeard in Agnarr's features. But it was far too late to keep holding on to ghosts. In order to serve his friend's granddaughters, Belland would have to lay to rest his memories of three boys in a rickety boat, eating fresh oysters and tossing the shells at each other, bound by nothing but sky and water.
"There is no 'but'. I am merely more familiar with the practice of a kingdom serving its royal family, instead of the other way around. It is refreshing. Please pardon this old man's surprise."
The princess blinked. "I… see."
The snowman tapped his chin. "Now that you mention it, you are surprisingly old! How do you keep so fit at your age? I've read a lot of books on this topic, but I still don't quite understand the concept of… don't shush me, Mattias; it's rude."
"Olaf? Will you do me a favour?" Princess Elsa gathered a haphazard handful of scrolls. "Could you please help me deliver this?"
"Absolutely! To whom? Kai? Gale? Kjekk?"
"Kai. Definitely Kai." Mattias piled the scrolls into the snowman's eager hands and ushered him out of the room. Once the doors were closed, he turned back around with an awkward chuckle. "Back to the meeting, aye? So that map—oh, shoot. Anna."
Princess Elsa nodded. "Updating and sharing the maps was Anna's idea. She foresaw that the bridge alone is too vulnerable and easily congested if it was the only route—"
"No, I mean Anna. She said she would join us in a few minutes before she ran off!" Belland's eyebrows rose, for Mattias had not only interrupted the princess; his voice was suddenly loud and panicked. He strode back to the door. "It's been too long. I need to check on her."
"Mattias, I'm sure she's fine," Princess Elsa called. "Anna has rather liberal definitions of time."
"I know that, but she's still taking too long. Are you sure she hasn't broken the bracelet you gave her?"
Belland was close enough to see the minute tightening of the princess's mouth; the look of one who had been anxious for too long to discern the validity of the emotion. "It's safe within these walls. She only went to find Oskar." A pause. "Anna can take care of herself. She… she has to."
Lips pursed, Mattias let the door fall back shut. "Right. Yeah… okay. The kid's been avoiding her lately, so maybe it's a good thing she's late? It means they must be having a proper conversation right now. Shouldn't disturb them. And I did double her guard, even if they're only shadowing her from a distance. Not that she wouldn't find a way to get away from them if she really tried. She promised not to do that anymore."
Mattias returned to the table and sank wearily into a chair, hanging his head. "That young lady took an oath to do what was best for Arendelle. You'd think she would understand that meant prioritising her life over an old soldier's." He glanced wryly at Elsa just as she opened her mouth. "Sorry, you're not much better. Running off to do battle with the sea. Sometimes, you two really remind me of Agnarr. And sometimes, you don't."
"I'll just have to take that as a compliment." Princess Elsa opened a blank scroll and created snowflake paperweights to keep the corners in place. Then she absently began to draw.
Belland and Mattias fell silent as they watched her work. Nay; they were speechless.
Finally, Belland managed to clear his throat. "This is… very impressive, Your Highness."
The comment caused an otherwise smooth stroke to stutter on what appeared to be the castle's east wing. Princess Elsa flushed. "It's only a rough sketch to assist the cartographer. The layout of the passages would be difficult to describe without a reference."
"Uh, I respectfully disagree." Mattias ogled at her freehand illustration. "It would be a crime to call that a reference, let alone a rough sketch. Shall I go tell the cartographer he's fired?"
The doors banged open before the princess could say anything.
"Elsa! I mean, sorry for interrupting, Your Ma—wait. Oh, hello Mattias. And Councillor Belland. Hi." A frazzled Queen Anna curtsied, only to overbalance and stumble on the same rug that tripped her up every time. She steadied herself on a chair and, perhaps sensing the silence, looked up. "What?"
Belland had a feeling that the three of them wore identically amused expressions. "Your Majesty," they greeted in unison.
The queen set her hands on her hips. "Why does it feel like you're all laughing at me?"
"Oh, we wouldn't dare," Mattias said solemnly. "That would be treason. I'd have to swing the sword at my own head."
"Well, don't; Halima would come at me with her knitting needles. What are we up to over here? Oooh, that's nice, Elsa." Queen Anna looked closer. "Wait a minute. Did you forget our favourite route? That's the most useful one!"
"The Earth Giant's Passage? I thought you might like to go over that one together." Princess Elsa handed her sister a second pen. "After all, you're the one who discovered it."
Queen Anna took the pen and immediately got ink smeared over her fingers. "I'm still disappointed we didn't find an actual dragon. It was fun hearing you scream, though."
"I did not scream."
"A dragon?" Mattias said blankly.
Queen Anna had added bold strokes to her sister's draft; a snake-like trail originating from the ice storage room beside the kitchen. It intersected several other passages in a narrow chamber before turning south. Belland couldn't yet tell where the path exited, since the queen had become engrossed with drawing something in the tunnel beneath the Arenfjord.
"Uh huh," she said distractedly, brows drawn together as she carefully etched in some spikes. "Doesn't this look like a dragon?"
Leaning forward alongside Mattias to survey the illustration, Belland decided not to inform his sovereign he had mistaken her dragon for a sea urchin.
"It's actually a boat shaped like a dragon," Princess Elsa explained. "It's part of a tumulus. Judging from the age and abundance of weaponry among the burial goods, we think it was made in memory of a beloved warrior in Arendelle's past."
"I'm telling you—Aren the First," the queen said absently. She had finished drawing the tumulus, and was now re-outlining the walls of the chamber, the pen nib scratching over the same paths.
Belland glanced back at Princess Elsa with a question on his lips, which halted when he saw that her contemplative gaze was fixed on the queen. "Anna?" she asked.
"Yeah?" the queen replied without looking up. A lock of hair slipped free of her ear and dangled just above the map, fluttering daintily with each breath.
There was a heavy pause.
Belland shifted his gaze away from their queen and princess. He saw Mattias do the same and knew he was not the only one who had sensed it: somehow, the air in the room had thickened. It felt like an illusory glass wall had put them on the wrong side of an unspoken conversation far beyond their reach.
Pursing her lips, Princess Elsa seemed to come to a decision. She placed her pen back in the inkwell. "You have grass stains on your knees," she told her sister. "I'll help you pick something to change into."
"But I'm almost finished with the dragon…" Queen Anna's voice trailed off as she finally looked up and saw her sister standing beside her, one hand outstretched.
"Come on," came the gentle prompt.
With unthinking swiftness, the queen allowed herself to be pulled out of her seat.
"Please excuse us for a moment," Princess Elsa said, hardly looking at Belland and Mattias as she led her sister out of the room.
The door closed.
"Well," Mattias said shortly. "I guess this means the cartographers are back in business after all?"
OoOoO
"Are you okay?" Elsa asked immediately.
Anna blinked. All she remembered was taking her sister's hand without second thought. That had been the easy part; as intuitive as putting one foot in front of the other; she'd been reaching for Elsa's hand since the day she could walk. "About?"
"I'm not sure." Elsa's voice softened into a tentative murmur. "You didn't get excited about Aren's tumulus. You usually love talking about the dragon boat. And you look like you've been crying."
"What? No, I'm perfectly—" Anna broke off. No, that wasn't right. Her voice simply cut off. That was weird. She raised a hand to rub at her eyes, which had suddenly gone blurry.
Elsa beat her to it, cupping her face in her warm palms. "Anna? What's wrong?"
What do you mean? Anna's response clammed up in her throat. I'm fine.
She blinked, and her vision cleared for a split second before the haze returned. It was enough for her to register the stricken look on Elsa's face—a look that Anna only saw when she was crying. And Anna knew what was coming—the light in Elsa's eyes shining brighter, wetter, as something seemed to buckle within her; that same, raw wound that never healed no matter how many times Anna wiped her own face and said, "Not you, dummy… s'not your fault."
Elsa huffed out a tiny laugh. "I know, silly. It's hard not to learn that lesson when you keep reminding me at every turn." She bent forward to catch Anna's eye. It was a gesture so familiar it almost made Anna smile. She had never been taller than Elsa, but her big sister had also never expected her to look up; Elsa always, always, bent for Anna. "Tell me what's wrong?"
The more Anna tried to focus on Elsa, the more her tears refracted the light streaming through the window, shattering her sister's image like the flash of a dozen cameras. "I can't. I… I don't even know why I'm…"
What was it? Could she blame it on the concussion? Everything was fine. Well, not perfectly fine; nothing could be perfect. She definitely wasn't perfect. Except she also wasn't even okay, which was utterly ridiculous since Arendelle was still standing. Elsa was here. Kristoff was on his way home. What could possibly be wrong with the present? With her?
"Anna."
It might have been different if it had been a question. Anna was pretty sure she could have kept it together in front of Mattias and Belland; she'd gotten heaps better at keeping her face straight. And it made her wonder if that was why Elsa had dragged her out: so she could call her name in that feather-like voice, tentatively open her arms—and shatter Anna's resolve like a broken dam.
"… okay," Elsa murmured. The rest was drowned out by Anna's ugly sobbing—which was a good thing, because it was the first time her big sister's You're okay had failed to make her feel better.
But it did feel nice to sink into Elsa's arms and let her sister rub her back in the path of the infinity symbol, just like their mother used to do. Elsa guided her over to one of the windowed alcoves and eased her down on the ledge. Clinging to her sister with her face buried in Elsa's midriff, Anna felt like she was perched on the edge of the world, clinging to a lifeline.
"Do you th-think I-I'm… messing everything up?"
Oh no. Why was Elsa so silent? It must be bad if it was taking her sister, of all people, that long to think of something nice to say. "Of course not. You're doing an ama—"
"You don't have to make me feel better," Anna blurted. "No one's saying it, but they all know it—I put everyone in danger because I didn't take my safety seriously enough. Mattias got hurt; Sven and Oskar could have been hurt. I nearly got kidnapped. That's irresponsible, right? I know that. All I've done lately is get others hurt and… and hurt people. And now Oskar's been lying to me this whole time, and it doesn't really change anything, but I—"
Elsa held up a hand. "I'm sorry; I'm confused. What did Oskar lie about?"
Anna could only shake her head. She felt her hair catch on Elsa's fingers, and Elsa dropped her hand before the tug could become a painful jerk. The tiny, considerate gesture made the lump in Anna's throat grow. "He's… not actually a Westergaard. He's just an orphan Gregory raised. He lied because he was scared we'd kick the refugees out of Arendelle."
She should have known. She should have been able to figure it out herself.
There was another familiar look on Elsa's face. Anna had grown well acquainted with it over the past three years: the sight of Elsa absorbing her shock and mentally composing a measured response, all while her expression betrayed none of the turmoil. It was the poise Anna, as queen, ought to be capable of. Among other things.
How often had their parents looked at her and wished that she could be more like Elsa?
"Does that mean Gregory's actual son is still trapped with Caleb in the Isles?"
Anna winced. Of course Elsa was perceptive enough to cut to the heart of the problem. "Daughter."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Not a son. Gregory has a daughter… had. She was there. On the ship we… I set on fire. For the sea burial. You were in the Forest; you didn't see."
It made sense. Hakon had mentioned the Southern Isles's tradition of burying their royalty. But it wouldn't have been right to lay their princess to rest in Arendelle. So Oskar had come up with a ceremony usually reserved for honoured warriors, to return the girl who hadn't been his sister to the sea.
It all made too much sense.
"I really don't know anything at all, huh?" Anna mumbled dully.
It was only because she was already staring at the floor between them that she saw Elsa's shadow reach for her once more. "You couldn't have known."
"How do you know that?" she muttered.
"Anna?"
Cut it out. Apologise. But Anna heard herself plow on. "You would have seen through him. But I didn't. I'm the naïve queen who got fooled by a twelve-year-old."
"That's okay—"
"No, it's not!" The cry exploded from the depths of a bitter pit Anna hadn't realised existed within her. "Listen to yourself! 'Okay'? How is anything okay right now? Sure, you've got your magic, but you can't seriously think you have the power to fix things just by saying it, do you? Happy endings—they don't…" She threw up her hands. "Life just doesn't work like a fairytale!"
It rang down the hallway like the toll of midnight. Haunting. Final.
Elsa's shadow had frozen in place.
Anna's heart stopped. "I—"
Then there was the sound of voices drawing near, engaged in amicable chatter. One voice sounded like it belonged to Bertil, her favourite butler.
Because this wasn't sock-sliding or chocolate smudges on her face. It wasn't even about the grass on her knees or the tears in her eyes. She was no longer a rambunctious child or an energetic princess. Bertil simply couldn't see her like this—not even Kai and Gerda could see her like this. Not anymore.
She was the queen. No one could see her like this. Anna's mind reeled around that realisation like the still-spinning wheel of a crashed bicycle.
She heard a surprised, "Oh!"
There was nowhere to hide.
OoOoO
It used to be as easy as loudly wondering, Oh no. Where did Anna go?
Like a tide responding to the moon's pull, her sister's bubbly, disembodied voice would announce: I'm hiding!
The problem was that, the older they got, the better Anna became at hiding; from an obvious bump beneath the sheets to a tittering pair of feet sticking out from the bottom of the curtains, to nothing but poorly stifled giggles emanating from nowhere. It had never been a real problem, though, because Anna usually couldn't wait long enough to be found and would instead leap out to scare her. And, despite the outlandish escapades she pulled when maids tried to track her down for a bath, Anna always came when Elsa called for her.
She also had the habit of ducking behind Elsa when she was in trouble. Anna's not here, she'd say, her face pressed into Elsa's back. S'only Elsa.
Anna could camouflage into anything and any place, but Elsa had always been better at hiding in plain sight. It had served her well when she was the queen. But that was no longer her role, and it killed her to see Anna rooted to the spot like a child captivated by a falling tree. Exposed. Vulnerable.
I'll handle it, Elsa wanted to say. It's okay. But her sister's frustrated shout still rang in her ears, her skull, her bones.
It was true. Elsa couldn't make everything better. She had never been able to fix anything. But she stepped futilely in front of Anna anyway, hoping to shield her from view just as—
—the approaching footsteps stumbled to a halt. "Oh, h-hello," a startled voice stammered. "I didn't see you there. What are you—ah, it bit me!"
Anna started forward, and Elsa instinctively grabbed her wrist. She wasn't sure what had compelled her to move until she felt a burning sensation spread up her palm and into the veins of her magic.
Ah, Elsa thought as she released Anna's arm to reveal the ice bracelet, glowing bright as the auroras. There you are.
"It seems to be pulling you away," a man's voice observed from around the corner. "Her Majesty must not wish to be disturbed. Oh, don't mind your sleeve, dear. Yes, good boy, run along. We'll be on our way."
No one appeared.
Instead, Ulf shot out like a star across the night sky, taking the turn so fast he nearly barrelled into the wall.
Elsa hastily stepped aside before he could bowl her over. "Gentle—" Her caution fell on deaf ears.
Anna yelped as Ulf took a flying leap at her. The two of them toppled backwards, sinking into the mound of snow that sprang up behind them as Elsa covered her eyes with a wince.
"Aw, Ulf!" Anna squealed, turning her face as Ulf licked her relentlessly. "Was that poor Olina you scared off just then? You know we'll have to apologise to her later. We don't want people thinking you're dangerous, do we?"
The difference, Elsa realised as she watched them, was not that Ulf was somehow estranged from her magic. She could sense his joy, even though it was still a faint blur next to the beacon that was Olaf emitting waves of excitement from the other end of the castle grounds. Like the others, Ulf was tethered to her—a part of her.
The difference was that he didn't trust her.
Suddenly, Ulf's ears perked up and his nostrils flared. He gave Anna one last lick, then bounded over her to race down the other end of the hallway, already yapping at new intruders.
"Be nice!" Anna called after him. Her cheeks, previously splotched and tear-stained, were now flushed pink and wet with slobber.
Elsa extended a hand down to her. "Are you alright?"
"Oh, yeah, totally fine." Anna let Elsa pull her up, brushing snow off her clothes. "He's just so big today. Why does he keep changing sizes?"
"I'm actually not sure."
"Well, it's cool and not cool, because I want to knit him a sweater, right? But it's kind of physically impossible when he keeps shifting. He's a giant now, but I bet he'll be a puppy come dinnertime. He's always a puppy at the end of the day."
The smile felt tight on Elsa's face. "Is that so?"
Her voice must have betrayed something. Maybe it was the fact that she had drawn attention to herself by turning towards the window, grasping her elbow with one hand. Elsa could only see Anna from the corner of her eye, but her sister's hesitation was palpable.
When Anna spoke again, the cheeriness in her voice sounded strained. "You haven't noticed? Are you not paying attention to your own child?"
How could she explain Ulf to Anna when she barely understood him herself? "He seems too enamoured with his aunt to notice my neglect."
"I'm sorry."
"It's alright. Ulf's loyalties are his own."
"No… I meant I'm sorry for shouting at you."
Elsa squeezed her elbow tighter and looked over her shoulder. Anna stood behind her with an almost identical stance, holding one wrist and fidgeting with the bracelet. Elsa was sure her sister would have found their symmetry amusing if she saw it. But Anna's gaze was downcast, dancing in every direction but Elsa's.
"Anna, I'm not angry."
Anna tentatively peered up at her. "You're not?"
Sighing, Elsa sat down on the window ledge. "You were right. I… don't know how to help you."
"That's not true." Anna sat down beside her. "You've been helping me this entire time: asking Councillor Belland to look out for me, teaching me how to write non-whatever clauses in agreements. And you were literally just running a meeting for me. Come on; you drew a map from memory."
"Non-negotiable terms. You are perfectly capable of doing all those things, Anna. I can't help you with more than that; not the way you helped me when I was queen."
"... You're not serious, right?"
"I'm always serious."
Anna twisted around to sit cross-legged as she raised a finger. "First of all, no, you're not. Sometimes you're a big goof and an unbelievable idiot. Because, case in point: how can you even say that with a straight face? I love you, but everyone knows you were just entertaining me with errands. You got better at sharing, sure, but you didn't really need help from anyone. You're too, you know—Elsa."
Elsa stared. "Errands?" she sputtered. "Anna, you were my ambassador."
"Well, yeah. Because I'm your sister."
"Does that mean you made Kristoff your ambassador because he's your husband?"
"Hey, that's different. Did you see how he was the only one the refugees trusted in the beginning? He's someone who will speak to and for the common people. We've been missing someone like that."
"Kristoff is a wonderful ambassador. You were a wonderful ambassador and you are an excellent queen. No, let me finish, please."
Anna closed her mouth with an indignant huff.
"You were wrong about several things, Anna. If I was still the queen, I would have been none the wiser about Oskar. No, I'm not saying that just to cheer you up. He didn't open up to the queen—he bonded with you. You were the one who checked on him every day and taught him how to ride. Oskar would have continued deceiving all of us if you hadn't given him a reason to care for you." Elsa looked at Anna. "You are the best thing for Arendelle because you are who you are. And it is okay not to be okay all the time."
She was repeating it for the third time—but, seeing the way her words made Anna's eyes grow large, it struck Elsa that her sister might not have heard her the first two times.
So, holding her sister's stare, she said it a fourth time: "It's okay not to be okay, Anna. You taught me that, remember? You've said it to me so many times."
Anna wrung her hands. "I… yes, but you never screwed up as badly as I did. I nearly got kidnapped and used against you. Oskar claimed to be a prince, and I just believed him. I asked if Caleb sent him to spy on Arendelle and he said no. Am I an idiot for believing that, too? Because I can't help it. Oh, and don't forget Hakon still hates me for no reason, and Honeymaren and Ryder got attacked right under our noses. What else did I miss?"
"The fact that you're still here," Elsa pointed out. "Even though you don't have to be."
"Well, of course I'm still here. I'm the queen."
"So was I."
Anna's mouth snapped shut a second time.
Elsa smiled. "You missed the part where I did, in fact, 'screw up' by freezing the entire kingdom."
"That was kind of my fault."
"And my choice. My mistake. But this…" Elsa reached up and gently touched the scar on Anna's brow, running a finger over the incurable consequences on her sister's smooth skin. No matter how well the scar healed, that part of Anna would never be the same. "This is my fault."
"What? No." Anna's gaze became determined as she tugged Elsa's hand down and squeezed it a little too hard. "You can't protect me from everything, Elsa. I didn't break the bracelet because I knew you couldn't keep saving me."
It was the most transparent lie she'd ever heard from her sister, and it felt too cruel to tear it down. So Elsa asked a different question. "Anna? Do you feel like you didn't get to choose?"
"Duh. I was concussed and carried like a sack of flour. I didn't exactly get the chance to logically decide whether or not I should summon my magical sister."
"I meant becoming queen." Elsa focused on her hands, aligning her fingertips one by one. "Is it truly what you want? You really are the best thing for Arendelle. But if it's not the best thing for you, then I—"
"Do you regret it?"
Startled, Elsa broke off. "Pardon?"
The look on Anna's face told Elsa that she hadn't meant to say it aloud. And Elsa saw the moment the shock shifted into a burning desire to know. "Do you ever think to yourself that I'm not good enough? You can be honest. Really."
"No, Anna. Just… no."
It was simple this time. Anna didn't question her. She just beamed back. "Okay."
"Are you truly happy, Anna?"
"Mm." Her sister rested her chin on her knees. "Honestly? Not all the time. But that's okay, right?" She poked Elsa. "What about you? Are you happy?"
"I am." The weightlessness of her own honesty almost took Elsa's breath away. I'm happy, she thought. "Now that you mention it, though, I do miss the agenda Kai used to bring every morning." She laughed at Anna's expression. "What? It's nice to have decisions made for you, sometimes. Especially when they're purposeful and benefit a kingdom you love. Don't you feel the same?"
"No!" Anna looked appalled. "He comes knocking at six in the morning, Elsa!"
"I know. It's wonderful."
"Urgh. You're so weird." Anna laid her head on Elsa's shoulder. "You know, I just realised how lucky we are. We could've grown up like Hans and his brothers, hating and fighting each other for the throne."
"Mother and Father didn't know the jealousy of siblinghood. They never would have encouraged competition between us."
"But how do you know that?"
"What do you mean?"
Was that a flinch? "What? Oh, nothing! I just… of course I miss them." Anna sighed. "Look, it's silly. Don't be mad, okay? I think I'm maybe, possibly, just a little… angry with them. For everything."
Everything. Somehow, the word started a buzzing in Elsa's ear—no, in her head. "It's not silly."
Anna said something, but her voice sounded smaller. Farther away. Elsa couldn't make it out. Was it just her, or was the temperature dropping?
And she heard whispers. Growing louder, crawling up her spine like frost. Was she losing control? She stared down at her hands.
Crimson.
She blinked. Her hands were her own once more, pale and trembling.
"Elsa?" There was her sister's worried face in hers. "Are you okay? You're shivering again."
"I…" The crackle of ice. Not here. "Anna—"
The noise in her head exploded.
"Why did it have to be me?"
Elsa squeezed her eyes shut. She dragged in a shallow breath. It sat like a bucket of ice in her lungs.
"Why is it always me?"
It was a language she did not recognise. Twisted syllables, a rhythm without rhyme. Impossible to tell where one word ended and the next began.
So why could she understand it?
"My son, please. C-Calm down. We're sorry for—"
"Everything? No, you're not. You know you're not."
"No! No, stop! Please—"
"Elsa!"
Sister, Elsa thought as Anna drew her into a hug. I have a sister.
"You're okay. I'm here. Gosh, you're so cold."
"Anna," Elsa mumbled. Her breath fogged up. "I think… there are voices in my head again… I can hear them."
"What? Like Mother's?"
"No. It's not calling me. It's…" Elsa shivered and felt Anna protectively tighten her embrace. "It's just there. Memories. But they're not mine."
My son.
A name. It was there. She knew it. She just had to follow the thread.
"Hey, guys!" Olaf skipped into sight with Ulf on his heels. "Guess who I ran into just then?"
"Olaf, not now," Anna said distractedly.
"But Kristoff's home!"
This got Anna's attention. "Kristoff?"
"Yeah! He told me to keep it a secret, which is weird because he said I could tell you. Maybe he's planning a surprise for you. Oh wait, that's not how surprises work."
"Go," Elsa breathed. "I'm fine."
Anna turned back to her. "No, you're not."
No, she wasn't. Her head hurt. The pain was grounding, but it moored her in the wrong place. Screams ricocheted in her skull. Splashes of scarlet blinked in and out of her vision. Elsa shut her eyes again, gritting her teeth.
"Why do you keep pushing me, Ulfie?" she heard Olaf huff. "That's not nice. As your big brother, it's my job to teach you manners."
Brother.
"'Stop'? Who do you think I'm doing this for? You want me to stop now?"
Father. Mother.
"No! No, stop! Please, we brought you into this world—"
A new voice entered her mind. It wasn't hers. But it also did not feel other. It made her feel cold.
Yet the words it spoke were a searing brand on her skin. "I wish you hadn't."
OoOoO
They had stopped trying to identify the bodies by midday. He could have told them from the start that it made no difference, if he'd thought they would listen. Clean clothes and the king's attention had changed nothing; the soldiers still treated him as if he stank of horse manure. Which was to say, they hardly looked at him.
They had stopped mocking him, though. They suddenly feared him too much for that.
"Excellent," came the murmur from the shadows of his consciousness. "Let fear be your ally."
Hans ignored the voice. He was getting better at it. As a boy, he had rehearsed entire dinner parties in his head to ensure he had an articulate response to every question his father might ask him. It had never actually helped, but it at least made him a master of conversing with himself. All he had to do was push the voice into that old box.
Pity he couldn't do that with the other presence in his head. Standing so close to the water, the salty sea spray on his skin, Hans was perfectly aware of the Water Spirit's desire to drown him."You'll have to get in line. I'm sure there are plenty of others with more creative methods in mind. Come to think of it, are you even capable of such a thing? Imagination?"
An unnatural swell lurched upwards from the shallows beneath him.
Hans's eyes narrowed. This wasn't as intuitive as rejecting the voice, but it was a far more familiar battlefield. There was always a clear winner in these scrimmages. And he hated losing.
His hands clenched into fists. Pull.
The water rushed at him.
Break.
Just before it engulfed him, the wave lost its form. It splashed harmlessly onto the black rock, inches from his boots.
Gloat. "I have to say, I'm disappointed. The legends made you sound more… capable."
The water vibrated furiously.
"Temper your ego. Did I not say that fear would be your ally? You might live longer with a healthy dose of it, boy."
Hans's smirk twisted into a scowl. Don't talk like you know me. Patronise me again and—
"You will continue to pretend that I am an imaginary friend? Can you afford to ignore me? Has my advice not spared you from a midnight swim with sharks? I believe that was what your dear brother initially had in mind."
"Shut up, you—"
"Talking to yourself again, Hansy?"
The voice fell silent with a chuckle. Glowering into the horizon, Hans didn't bother to turn around. "What do you want now, Hendrick?"
His brother stepped up beside him. The rocky ledge was narrow, and Hans hated that he automatically shuffled to make space. "Would you believe me if I said company?"
"You're better off asking Caleb for brothel recommendations."
"You know he hasn't set foot in one for over a decade. The women just walk in through the front gates. Helena doesn't even say anything anymore."
Of course not. What were a few more women to her? She already could not compete with the one whose picture hung from her husband's neck. "Wise."
"Hm. You, too."
Hans glanced sideways at Hendrick. "What?"
His brother stood with his hands behind his back, squinting up at the vultures circling the beach. "The promise you made him. It was the only thing you could have said—anything else, and you'd have died that night. He's mad for believing you."
Hans hid a frown as he looked away. "Careful, Hendrick. This much independent thought might fry your smooth brain."
"He's doing this all for her, you know. Which makes all that," his brother nodded to the beach on their right, "your fault."
The men had piled yet another makeshift raft high with sopping corpses. In the beginning, they had lined them up in neat rows. They'd searched for familiar faces and gossiped over loyalties. Gregory's men had fought and died in their uniform, making it impossible to distinguish rebels from heroes. Most, though, were the former. It was obvious from the shipwrecks.
His fault, huh?
Hans had watched, even though it would have been easier not to. It had been over a week since the storm. Some bodies were not in a state to be looked at, let alone touched. The putrid smell seemed to seep into the sand itself, growing with each man's regurgitated breakfast.
None of it mattered to the king, of course. His Majesty's orders were clear: salvage the wrecked ships and retrieve casualties from the water. All bodies were to be transported to the crypt.
A scuffling noise followed by curses. Hans glanced over to see Jesper regaining his balance on the slippery rock, his freckled face pale beneath the sunburn. He, clearly, was among the weak-stomached. "We're ready for more," he reported in a faint voice.
"Haven't found Gregory yet, I see," Hendrick commented blithely.
"Father wants to be sure. He wants—"
Hans gritted his teeth. "Then he can come out here and bend the stupid sea to his own bloody will. Tell him I'm not a damned fishing net."
Jesper hesitated. "Verbatim?"
Hans glared back as he yanked up his sleeves. "No, you fool. Stand back."
Even Hendrick complied without a snarky comment.
Hans faced the sea. It was the same beach. If he had escaped on one of the boats that night, none of this would have happened. He could have done it; it hadn't taken long to shake off the guards after helping his niece break out. He could have doubled back and joined her; she'd begged for him to come with her.
Arendelle will take you in, he had told her. I'm not welcome there.
It hadn't been a lie.
If he hadn't snuck back to the crypt, Caleb wouldn't have caught him. The king wouldn't have bothered with a threat that small. It was exactly the carelessness Hans had hoped to use against him. Forget the line of succession—magic would have propelled Hans to the throne.
"Yet here you are," the voice said. "Did you not get what you wanted?"
You tricked me, Hans seethed. You knew I would have died taming the Nokk without a blood anchor.
"Trickery implies that I am beholden to prioritise your welfare, which I am not. Perhaps you were the one who did not sufficiently consider the consequences of his actions. Did it not sound questionable to your own ears, explaining yourself to your brothers? 'A voice in my head told me how to summon a water spirit'?"
Why am I the only one who can hear you?
"Why should it matter? All your life, have you not wished to be singled out?"
Hans became conscious of the movement on the beach slowing as the soldiers watched him. Now they noticed him. Then again, Hans understood that they had no choice; the same way he had never been able to bring himself to close his eyes when his father had raised a hand against him. Fear was a mesmerising force.
He had no room left for fear.
This time, Hans gave the Nokk no chance to wrestle him for control. He simply took it. The water responded by receding. The soldiers on the beach scrambled farther up the shore, now familiar with the pattern of events.
Pull.
An ear-popping pressure. A weight on his chest. Air squeezed from his lungs. But what was there to fear? No one else could sense the swelling tide beneath the tranquil surface. No one else understood the power humming beneath his skin. Not even Caleb. This power belonged to Hans alone.
He snapped his fingers. A colossal wave smashed onto the beach, sending up shouts of alarm.
Could he flood the castle? What was stopping him? What could stop him?
In response, the marks on his chest and left arm itched. Then they burned. Hans flinched, and so did the water.
"The power may be yours," the voice chuckled, "but you make the mistake of assuming you hold power over your own life. Your brother is always watching."
The wave collapsed. Water-logged corpses rolled onto the sand like dead fish. Hans sank to his knees, gasping.
"You said I do not know you. But I do, Hans Westergaard. I know all that happens on these islands. You asked why you can hear my voice. I ask you in return: why not?"
Sweat trickled down his brow and stung his eyes as he raised his heavy head. It was a cloudless day, yet the castle's shadow seemed to loom over him.
Why me? It felt like he'd spent all his life asking that question. No one ever answered him.
Blue skies filled with the vicious beating of wings as ravenous vultures swooped towards the dead.
"Because you are the most invisible person on these islands."
A/N: The Earth Giant's Passage and Aren's tumulus are from the Forest of Shadows book. Again, you won't need to read the book to understand any of the elements in this fic. I've just pulled lore from everything.
Thanks for waiting so long for an update and reading up to this point! This fic turned one year old a couple days ago on New Years. I hope we can wrap up this story by the end of this year. We're over halfway! Thanks for sticking out this ride with me :)