The Next Unknown
17 – Questions Growing
OoOoO
The watchtower's blaring horn announced the alert. Soldiers on the beach paused in their dreary clean-up to squint at the ship that had appeared on the horizon, sails doused in a red glow as the setting sun sank in its wake.
"Maybe they can't find the harbour?" Jesper tittered.
"No." Hans sensed rather than saw the ship's narrow prow cutting through the water like a blade through parchment. It was a humble vessel, resembling a common merchant's ship, and would have been an unsuspecting sight if merchants hadn't been giving the Southern Isles a wide berth since the succession. "It's headed straight here."
As the closest shore for land access to the castle, the beach was routinely under heavy guard. Today, though, the gates stood wide open for the transportation of waterlogged corpses down to the crypt, and most soldiers had discarded their weapons for that thankless labour. The sight of an unannounced vessel sent unease rippling through the ranks.
This time, Jesper's anxious voice cracked. "Could it be pirates?"
Hendrick clicked his fingers at the closest soldier and held out one hand. When the soldier blinked, he impatiently clarified, "Get me a scope, you dolt."
Hans glimpsed the soldier's expression as he sauntered off. No soldier would have taken their sweet time to carry out Gregory's orders, let alone roll their eyes. Despite the stringent command, Hans had never heard a word of complaint during his tours on his brother's fleet.
The decimated fleet that Hans had spent the day pulling up from the sea.
"Wait…" Shielding his eyes, Jesper leaned forward. "I think that's Uncle Rudi."
Hans couldn't see far enough to validate Jesper's outlandish observation, but he could sense that the ship showed no signs of slowing down. Only an idiot would run a ship aground, and Rudi certainly was that.
Hans could have stopped the ship—he could have ripped it apart—but his arm still burned and his head throbbed to the rhythm of the tide. He watched as the rocky shallows ripped open the wooden hull with a splintering crash. The vessel pitched to starboard with a long, creaky groan.
"Thanks for the ride, Captain!" a familiar voice boomed out, followed by the bizarre sight of a shrieking man being bodily thrown over the side. Beside Hans, Jesper flinched as the man hit the water.
"That's Rudi, alright," Hendrick said dryly. "Go tell the king, Jesper."
Their brother only deigned to descend halfway down the rope ladder before leaping off, splashing up a geyser around his colossal frame. He waded easily through the knee-high water.
As Rudi's cocky, gold-filled grin flashed in the reddish light, Hans remembered the times their father, too comfortable at the head of the table, had asked one of his more competent sons to teach his foolish youngest a lesson. Rudi always sat next to Hans, preying on the first opportunity to shove Hans's head into his soup bowl with an angelic With pleasure, Father.
Hans doubted Caleb would mind if he sent Rudi to the bottom of the sea.
"Don't forget, Hans: blood is thicker than water," the voice said lazily.
Hans despised the way it had started calling him by his name. There was no time to snap back.
Rudi reached the shore, peering up at them with his beady eye. "Got myself a welcoming party, I see. What's the stableboy doing strutting about in nice clothes? Didn't you tell him it'll just get covered in horse shit, Hendrick?"
"Check yourself, heathen." Hendrick twirled his wrist in a mocking flourish. "You stand before the glorious saviour of the Southern Isles, slayer of the indomitable Spear."
Rudi's eyebrow arched above his black eyepatch. "Seriously? I heard about the siege while I was in Weselton but didn't know the golden boy's actually dead." He eyed Hans. "How did you get rid of the traitor, huh?"
"Perhaps you'll find out the next time you try to trip me in the hallway."
"Yeah, right," Hendrick snorted. "It was practically an accident. He did it in his sleep."
"Like a wet dream?" Rudi laughed. He stopped when the water around his ankles swirled like a whirlpool. "What the—"
A jet of water slammed into Rudi's broad jaw, sending his head snapping backwards.
The Water Spirit tugged at the reins, but Hans had never felt more in control.
The shallows became a gushing current. With a flick of a finger, the torrent dragged Rudi over every bump in the rocks before finally slamming him into a boulder.
Hans's lips peeled back as he stared down at Rudi, sodden and sputtering. Then he turned to Hendrick. "In my sleep, did you say? Is that what we're calling it?"
Hans caught the flicker of fear in both of his brothers' eyes. It was far more satisfying than the first intoxicating taste he'd gotten three years ago, snuffing out the fire in front of that naïve princess.
Was he supposed to thank Caleb for this?
As he strode away, he heard Rudi growl, "What the hell was that? Since when could he do magic? Whatever, don't tell me. Did I beat Runo back?"
Hans kept walking.
"No," Hendrick said shortly. "You didn't."
Hans didn't know where he was going. He could no longer stand his room and Caleb had taken over the crypt, his unlikely sanctum. When he reached the gates, though, he wanted to turn back around.
Queen Helena had made a rare appearance, flanked by a maid holding a voluminous parasol over her despite the fading daylight. She must have intercepted Jesper and was fussing over his sunburn. Hans couldn't fathom what could have drawn his uptight sister-in-law down to the death-ridden beach, and cursed the powers that be for planting her in his path.
Spotting him, Helena lowered the handkerchief she held to her nose. Her razor-sharp cheekbones somehow appeared even more pronounced as her expression soured. "Good evening, Hans. I don't suppose you know where I might find my husband?"
Hans suspected that was Helena's best attempt at humour; everyone knew where the king had cloistered himself. "Have you checked the crypt? I spent some time down there myself; quite cosy. I can't fault Caleb for choosing it over your bed."
"You—" Jesper's protest cut off at his mother's touch on his arm.
"Go see if your father needs you for anything," Helena told her son, her soothing tone belying the venomous glare she directed at Hans. It was no rumour that Caleb slept in a separate room, seeming to prefer 'guests' over his wife's company. It was a wonder Jesper had a younger brother at all. With the way Caleb got around these days, though, Jesper could well have many siblings scattered throughout the kingdom.
Prodigious memory or not, Hans doubted Caleb could name any of the women he'd had in his quarters. Only one woman had ever been able to lay claim to his brother's heart. Perhaps if she was still alive, Caleb would still be human.
There was a tug on Hans's trousers. He looked down to find a pair of large brown eyes gazing up at him, and shot Helena a scowl. "Do I want to know why you thought it was a good idea to bring a two-year-old down here?"
The queen sniffed disdainfully. "He was making an unholy ruckus. Karoline wasn't going to do anything about it."
Of course not. Since Aksel's death, his wife had been as elusive as Hans's mother. By this point, Hans didn't know which of the two women was in more possession of her wits.
He looked up to see Helena heading back to the castle, the maid hastening to keep her in the parasol's shade. "And where do you think you're going?"
"To dine without my dear husband, as you so kindly pointed out. With your ample experience in babysitting, I have utmost confidence in your ability to keep Christian out of trouble."
With the toddler clinging to his leg, Hans could only scowl; Helena knew where to stick the knife. His twelve older brothers had ensured an endless rotation of squalling babies, saddling him with dozens of nephews and a single niece. Each time Hans had asked for more meaningful duties, his father would tell him to make sure the brats didn't fall off their damned rocking horses.
Christian yanked once more on Hans's leg and pointed a chubby finger at the ship Rudi had beached in the shallows.
"Yes," Hans said flatly. "That's a ship. Well done."
"Papa?"
Hans stiffened. Someone had tried to explain it to the kid, right? "No, Christian. Aksel—your father…"
It was Aksel's fault for being stupid enough to marry for love and leaving behind a wife too heartbroken to care for their five sons. He should have turned a blind eye to Caleb's coronation. And when he couldn't do that, he should have finished what he'd started. Even a blind man could see that Aksel, renowned for disarming the captain of the guard by thirteen, could not have lost to Caleb in a fair duel.
Christian was staring at the pyramid of corpses on the beach. Frowning, Hans blocked his view and nudged him towards the castle.
"Papa?"
"He's gone, Christian. He's not coming back." Hans expected the questions to continue for years to come.
Christian looked up at him again, speaking around his thumb. "Fia?"
Hans blinked. He had thought only of getting his niece away from Caleb; the rest hadn't crossed his mind. She might have already heard about the storm and the siege. One day, she would learn that it hadn't been nature's whim. He wouldn't be her favourite uncle for much longer.
"Uncle Hans!" Jesper ran up to them, looking equal parts excited and smug.
Hans knew what was coming.
"Father wants to see you."
OoOoO
Kristoff was fully aware Erling was speaking to him. He really was.
"Sorry, could you repeat that?"
Erling fixed him with a look that somehow combined Elsa's wry stare and Anna's comically exaggerated squint. "Just go. You're being insufferable."
"Excuse me?"
Erling jerked his head towards the foot Kristoff hadn't even noticed he was tapping.
"Oh. Sorry." Looking to distract himself, Kristoff linked his hands behind his head and arched backwards, stretching his lower back. The voyage hadn't been kind to him, but now his body didn't just ache: it itched.
She was so close. Why was he still standing around?
"Don't get any funny ideas—I can kill you eleven different ways right now, barehanded," Petra snarled from his right.
"That's it?" came the scathing retort from the left. "I can give you twice as many options."
Right. That was why he couldn't go anywhere.
There had been a time when Kristoff would have considered the modest staff accommodations to be mansions in their own right. Now, though, sandwiched between Petra and Josefine, Kristoff found the room stifling. It had already been hard enough to sneak the two foreigners into the castle, and now the women's loud, warring taunts were betraying all principles of subtlety.
Had Olaf found Anna yet? Did she know Kristoff was back?
From her window perch, Petra inspected her throwing knives one by one. "Nice bluff. I hope you handle steel better than your words. Don't you go counting those cuffs as a weapon."
Prowling in the opposite corner, Josefine bared her teeth. "You sure you don't want to come closer and check they're properly secured? Trust me, pumpkin: you don't want me loose in your dainty castle."
"Go right ahead. Leave your precious prince behind as our hostage. I'll show you just how creatively I can carve him up while you're gone."
"Why, you—"
"Josefine. Stand down." The man on the bed spoke in a weary but stern voice.
Josefine obeyed instantly, crossing her arms with an acerbic glare that was no doubt intended to melt Petra's smug smile off her face.
Kristoff cleared his throat. "You too, Petra. Stop picking a fight."
She grudgingly lowered her knife, even though everyone in the room could tell that Kristoff's request sounded pathetic next to the other man's command.
Maybe if Kristoff had sounded more confident, more royal, Ronny wouldn't have said, "Sir, I still think we're taking a risk. I'm sure Her Majesty would understand if we confined our guests to the dungeon. If I may—"
"You may not," Erling answered coolly.
Kristoff's eyebrows shot up.
"If your opinion was necessary, Prince Kristoff would have asked for it. Your queen placed you under His Highness's command, and until Her Majesty personally decides otherwise, you will follow his orders and not cause a diplomatic incident. Is that clear?"
Ronny blinked. "Y-Yes, sir. Understood." He cast Kristoff a sheepish look.
A knock at the door caused all the guards to startle. Herman returned with the physician.
Kristoff pushed off the wall. "Let's give the doctor space to work."
"I'm not going anywhere," Josefine snarled.
"What makes you think you have the luxury of making demands?" Petra shot back.
It had been a long journey and Kristoff did not have time for this. "Fine—Josefine stays. Before you think about trying anything, remember that you asked us for help, alright? Petra and Ronny, you watch her. Herman, run down to the kitchen and bring back something to eat—for everyone. If I come back to any broken noses, don't expect me to get you back on Anna's good side. Got it?"
The room was completely silent—even Josefine did not have a retort.
"Good." Kristoff stalked out of the room.
Following him out into the corridor, Erling commented, "Nicely done."
Kristoff undid another button on his now-filthy shirt, surprised by how desperately he yearned for a bath. Sven would never let him hear the end of it. "Not really. I'm not cut out for this."
"No, you are not."
"Most people would have said something nice there, mate."
"I am not most people."
Kristoff chuckled. "True. Most people have friends."
Erling looked ready to launch a comeback. Then something seemed to catch his eye.
Kristoff turned around.
And there she was, standing at the bottom of the stairs with a hand on her heaving chest, cheeks flushed, hair tumbled over her shoulders. She ran—flew—and crashed into him like a wave breaking on the shore.
"Hey," Anna chirped breathlessly. "You're late, Lord Ambassador."
He swept her up with the energy of sails finally catching the wind. He loved the weight of her in his arms, and the tickle of her hair on his face as she beamed down at him. "Lord? Did I get demoted while I was gone?"
"That's right, Lord of Delays. What took you so long? What are you guys doing down here, anyway? You just missed Elsa; she's gone back to the Forest. Long story; fill you in after—ohmygodyouhaveabeard!"
Kristoff resisted the impulse to rub a hand over his scruffy chin. He knew he could easily hold her up with one arm; but why would he give her anything less than all of him? "Guess I do. Kind of didn't have time to shave in Weselton. Is it bad?"
"Very. I love it." Anna took his face in her warm palms and treated him to that sweet, impish grin before leaning down to kiss him.
Home.
"So."
"Mm?"
"What's up with that pink ship taking up half my harbour?"
"Ah. That's also a very long story, Your Majesty. You might want to come down for it."
"Don't wanna." Anna kissed him again. Then she pulled back, ran a hand over his jaw, and shook her head. "Change of mind: don't love the beard anymore. It's awfully itchy."
Kristoff didn't realise that one's face could get this tired from grinning.
"Your Majesty," Erling said, seemingly unaffected by the sight of Kristoff quickly setting Anna back on her feet. "It's good to see you well. I'm afraid we failed to seal the deal on the original trade agreement. The good news, however, is that the Duke offered us a more favourable arrangement: in place of raw materials, Weselton will equip our soldiers with ready-made weapons and armour."
"Ready-made? As in, swords and shields? The new crossbows?"
"Yes, ma'am. And cannons."
"Cannons?" Anna turned to Kristoff with her mouth hanging open. He nodded, and her jaw unhinged further. "We are talking about the same Duke, right? No way he's giving us all this without a catch."
"It is not a gift, but a loan. One that is on the table only because Prince Kristoff did him a great favour."
Now Anna's incredulous stare swivelled back to Kristoff. He scratched his nose. "Technically, it was troll magic, so the credit goes to Ma for stuffing those crystals into my bag."
"Now I know you're pulling my leg. The Duke hates magic. Unless…" Anna frowned. "Did Caleb send someone to Weselton, too?"
Something did not sound right to Kristoff. "Did something happen while we were—"
The door swung open between them. Anna yelped and hopped backwards. Kristoff stared at the patterned oak that had stopped inches from his nose.
He heard the physician on the other side. "Your High—oh, Your Majesty! Please excuse me while I collect more equipment. What remains of his arm must be tidied and my current blades are not quite… sharp enough."
By the time Kristoff eased the door away from him, the physician had already disappeared. So, too, had Anna. Erling pointed into the room. Kristoff didn't need the hint; he could already hear his wife's panic.
"Petra! Are you okay? Who's hurt? Wait, who are these people?"
"Where is my daughter?"
Kristoff reached Anna just as she turned back with a baffled expression. Where was he even supposed to start? "Sorry. We picked them up on the way back from Weselton. They said they were headed to Arendelle, too. Erling said—"
"My daughter." The man still sounded weak, but there was now a sense of power behind his baritone; an expectation of obedience. "Where is she?"
"You are in the presence of Queen Anna of Arendelle," Petra hissed in the background. "Watch your mouth."
"You watch yours," Josefine snapped back. "He is the rightful ruler of—"
"Kristoff?" Anna looked lost. "What's going on?"
"Honestly? I'm not sure. Erling says he's met him before and thinks he's the real deal—"
"I don't think—I know," Erling sighed. "We've met multiple times. He is who he says he is."
"But it doesn't add up. We should get Oskar down here."
It was as if Kristoff had carelessly uttered 'carrots' around Sven. "Oskar?" Anna and the man remarked at the same time.
Kristoff felt like he'd stepped into a lion's den. He chuckled awkwardly, hoping it wasn't a secret anymore. "Well, yeah. You'd hope Oskar would recognise his own father."
"Father?" The man got no further than that before breaking into a coughing fit.
Josefine started forward. Petra's sword sprang into her hand.
"Wait." It came out soft as a whisper, but something in Anna's voice made both women freeze. Even Kristoff held his breath, watching his wife as her eyes flitted from the man's face to the bloodied bandage around the stump of his arm, then back up to his matted hair.
Finally, she swallowed. "Your daughter… was her name Sofia?"
The man went still as stone. And Kristoff finally understood.
OoOoO
"That's really Gregory? The one Caleb wants dead? Isn't he supposed to be dead? Something about a storm?"
Anna knew she should stop and give him a proper explanation. Kristoff deserved it. But her mind refused to settle. If she didn't keep moving, she might scream. She started up the stairs two steps at a time.
She was distantly surprised to hear Hakon following. "If either of you had informed me of the boy's so-called identity, I could have told you immediately that he was lying. Gregory did not take another wife after the death of his first, who only bore him one child: a seventeen-year-old daughter. It's easy to remember since the Westergaards are cursed with abundant male heirs. Sofia was King Johan's only granddaughter."
Was. Gregory's hollowed stare. The hole his guard, Josefine, had punched into the wall.
Anna bit her lip and walked faster. Ulf would find her like he always did. Then he could take her to—
No, he couldn't do that.
How could she forget that she couldn't go to Elsa? Anna had personally dragged her sister to the stables and saddled up Kjekk for her. Elsa had tried to joke about being banished, but for once, Anna hadn't been able to muster humour. What she truly wished was to banish from her mind the sight of Elsa shivering and clutching her head as if her trembling hands were all that held her mind together. Elsa had looked like she'd seen a ghost. Or heard one.
Now there was another ghost in the castle. A prince whom the world thought dead—seeking the daughter he'd thought was alive and safe.
Christ. How was she going to tell Oskar?
"Whoa there." Kristoff's large hand caught hers. "What's the rush, Feisty Pants? Do you have a plan?"
A plan? Anna would have laughed if she couldn't see that her husband was already worried for her sanity. Maybe this was karma for loving Hans. Maybe if Anna hadn't been so naïve, the universe wouldn't find her such an easy target.
"Hey, what's this?" Kristoff brushed back her bangs.
Anna's mortification registered too late. She hadn't had time to think about how to tell him. "Kristoff—"
He froze, staring at her brow.
Anna tugged his hand back down; his forearm had become taut as steel. "I-It's fine—it doesn't hurt anymore. I'm okay now."
Another mistake—Kristoff's confusion darkened into a storm; something too cold and frightening to belong on his kind features.
Anymore. Now. If Anna hadn't let those words slip, she could have convinced him she had crashed into yet another door, or sparred too enthusiastically with the guards.
"Who?" Kristoff stared at her scar so intensely that Anna worried he could see the battle that had caused it. "Who did it? I'm going to… I'll kill them."
Anna wished she could block out her husband uttering those words in the same voice he used to joke around and profess love to her. "You can't, Kristoff… you can't…"
This wasn't the same as the rabbits he caught for their campfire meals on their hikes. His picks and knives weren't supposed to be used for hurting others that way.
So what did that say about her?
"You can't," Anna whispered. "I already did it."
"What do you mean?"
"He's dead. I…"
Kristoff stared at her. She knew he wouldn't see her the same way again. But Anna already wasn't the same woman who had stood on her husband's toes to kiss him goodbye a week ago. She wasn't alive by accident.
Anna looked up at Kristoff. In the steadiest voice she could manage, she said, "I killed him."
His expression was scarily unreadable. Then he pulled her into a wordless embrace.
"It was Caleb, wasn't it?" Anna had forgotten Hakon was still with them; from the way Kristoff started, he'd forgotten too. There was also an unerring edge to Hakon's usually calm voice, sharper than any tone Anna had heard him use in negotiations—or, lately, against her. "Hendrick's useless; it must have been one of the twins. Which one? No, I suppose it doesn't matter which it was. Caleb sent one after you, and the other after us. Clever."
Anna's stomach flipped. "Say that again?"
"Prince Fredrik was poisoned, and whoever did it tried to frame us for it. If not for Prince Kristoff's crystals, the Duke would have had our heads."
Hakon's dismissive tone didn't diminish the horror of the pieces finally coming together in Anna's mind—Kristoff's beard, Hakon's cracked glasses, their tattered clothes and dark smudges beneath their eyes. "Oh my God," she breathed. "I sent you into a trap."
"There was no way you could have known," Kristoff assured hastily.
"But Caleb knew." Hearing the truth spoken aloud chilled Anna's blood. "Caleb knew you were going to Weselton."
"Indeed," Hakon said. "The question is: how?"
Only when their gazes locked did it hit Anna that they hadn't properly looked at each other since his return.
"Wait." Kristoff looked between them. "Anna, I didn't let him out of my sight the whole trip. And he practically offered to get stabbed in my place."
"Did he?" Anna gave Hakon a faint smile. "How come you never volunteered to take my dances for me?"
"You seemed capable of handling yourself, ma'am."
"Do you still think that?"
"Have we not already agreed that my opinion is irrelevant?"
There. Of course they would end up back here. Why did she think anything had changed?
But wasn't it already clear that everything would never be the same again?
"The queen should decide what is and isn't relevant," Anna said softly. "Isn't that what you taught me?"
Hakon regarded her, adjusting his glasses. "And what has Your Majesty decided?"
She had told Elsa the truth about her nightmares, prepared Arendelle for war, and survived an attempt on her life. But now Anna saw that there was no moving forward without returning to the beginning—to a colourful classroom lit by the afternoon light, and Councillor Belland's thoughtful grey eyes on her. To the question he had posed to her:
Hakon Erling.
Anna met his gaze. "I think it's time we talked."
OoOoO
Elsa knew what Kjekk was thinking.
"I do know where I'm going, you know. There's a gully at the end of this path; crossing it is the fastest way to reach the camp without troubling the Giants."
The horse let out a snort and continued ambling down the track, uncharacteristically settled despite the surrounding darkness of the Forest at night.
"You don't believe me, do you?" Elsa settled into the saddle with a smile. "You'll see. We won't get lost; I'm not Anna."
Kjekk tilted his head, ears twitching.
"Hmm. You're right—her sense of direction is better than mine. Do you know about the hidden exit in the stable? I'm sure you've seen Anna come through it. There are lots of those secret passages in the castle, you see. A long time ago, before you were born, we were obsessed with finding all of them. I liked it because it was like solving puzzles, but Anna always wanted to explore. The first time, we were lost for so long I thought we would be trapped down there forever."
It hadn't helped that their father had read them a bedtime story about gjengangers the night before, prompting Anna to pretend they were running from ghosts and zombies. Elsa had spun it into a heroic tale involving dragons and Vikings to cover up her panic.
"I got more and more afraid each time we ran into a dead-end; but it didn't bother Anna. She was the one who found the exit in the end. She always does. You got her lost in the mountains, remember? And she still found me."
That was why it was easier to trust Anna's instincts than to follow her own. Anna was confident that the Forest would demystify everything, and so Elsa had let her sister talk her into leaving Arendelle once more. It would be dinnertime, and Anna would have to explain to Kristoff why Elsa wasn't there to welcome him home.
Elsa ran her fingers through Kjekk's mane. "Hopefully Anna is right and Yelana can tell me why I'm hearing those… things."
The voices hadn't invaded a second time, but the memory of it—of something, someone, in her mind—raised goosebumps on Elsa's skin.
So did the memory of Anna mumbling, 'I think I'm maybe, possibly, just a little… angry with them. For everything.'
Kjekk halted.
It was almost a smooth stop compared to his usual skittishness, but Elsa had let her guard down. She fumbled for balance and pushed her hair out of her eyes, ready to remind Kjekk that stray branches were nothing to be afraid of. Then she saw what he had seen.
"Oh."
Recognising the melodic burbling sounds that had been in the background the entire time, Elsa realised she should have made the connection sooner. Honeymaren and Ryder had mentioned that rain had restored most of the Forest's rivers. Now the proof lay before them: a flowing stream barred their shortcut.
It was shallow enough to cross, but judging from Kjekk's reaction, Elsa thought it would be wiser to ask for the Giants' help after all. She sensed one nearby, the way she could track the nomadic Northuldra by Bruni and Gale's companionship.
The water in the stream remained tauntingly still.
Pressing her lips together, Elsa focused instead on the rise and fall of Kjekk's barrel chest. They had departed Arendelle at a gallop and reached the Forest's outskirts in a fraction of the time it had taken Sven and the wagon. Her legs were sore.
Elsa dismounted stiffly and gave the horse an encouraging pat. "We're nearly there. Would you like a drink first?"
Kjekk took a few steps towards the stream. Then he paused and scurried back to Elsa's side.
She laughed. "But it is quite dark, isn't it? Let me give us some light."
Twirling her hand to create some crystals, Elsa thought of Ulf's fur brightening up the dark, and his uncanny way of appearing by Anna's side. The first time Elsa had gotten a proper look at Ulf, his snowy fur had been streaked with Anna's blood.
Mauve light now glittered around them, but Kjekk still did not move. Elsa knelt by the stream. "See, Kjekk? It's only—"
The moment her hand touched the stream, she knew it wasn't water. It was too thick. Too warm. Too hot.
Too red.
Elsa jerked back with a cry of horror. Magic shot from her fingertips. She heard the crackle of water freezing as she landed on her side.
But when she looked up, she saw nothing but a clear, now-frozen stream. Though the half-healed gash on her left palm still throbbed with the ghostly sensation of warm blood, her hand was wet with water. Just water.
Elsa let out a breath. Of course it was just a trick of her mind—there couldn't be a river of blood in the Enchanted Forest. She hadn't been sleeping well. These illusions and the voices she had heard were symptoms of a cold; it would explain the shivering. It made sense.
Elsa climbed to her feet. "Sorry, Kjekk. I thought I saw… never mind. Let's go and find—"
She felt it like an arrow through the core of her being—but it was nothing like the sensation of Anna's bracelet snapping.
Crack.
A fissure cut through the ice, twitching like an insect in its death throes.
Kjekk whinnied nervously.
"It's not me," Elsa whispered. Each crack reverberated like an echo trapped in her chest. Something was coming; pushing through.
Only one being had ever broken her ice before.
Elsa stared into the fissure's shifting shadows. "Nokk…?"
The ice shattered.
Elsa heard Kjekk's terrified scream. In the back of her mind, she felt the other spirits snap to attention. She was the only one frozen in place as water surged over her head.
"You're back." She managed a dazed step forward. Then she stopped.
No. This felt different. Wrong.
The stream seemed to roll in on itself, the water crashing and twisting into eerie shapes before. Figures. Elsa caught abstract flashes—a twisted hand here, broken sails there.
Then the water solidified into two pairs of boots. The first set of footsteps were measured and confident; the second, trailing behind, seemed ready to flee. Liquid tendrils climbed higher, forming legs and a torso as the two phantom figures strode towards her, stopping within arm's reach. Elsa stared transfixed as the water coalesced into chests, shoulders, necks.
"Three drops of blood, a dash of brännvin…" a man's echoing voice calmly declared.
One figure drew out a knife and nonchalantly sliced open his own palm. Elsa's left hand seared.
"… And a black sheep."
The water collapsed back into the stream before she could make out any faces, reforming into a vortex. Elsa stumbled backwards and tripped once again.
"Why is it always me?"
A new presence. In the blink of an eye, the water had gathered into another figure. Long hair whipped around his gaunt face. A penetrating stare.
"My son, please. C-Calm down. We're sorry for—"
"Everything?" The man's smile was almost tender. He looked directly at Elsa as he recited the lines she had heard just hours ago: "No, you're not. You know you're not."
He took an unsteady step towards her. Elsa instinctively scrambled back. Her eyes widened as he raised his hands.
"No! No, stop! Please—"
The water exploded. Elsa threw up her hands.
The air filled with the sound of crystal rain as frozen pellets plummeted and shattered. The gully, once more leeched dry, became littered with shards of ice.
Shivering, Elsa stared at the space where the man had stood. She had never seen him before—she was sure of it.
But now she knew his name.
A/N: A chapter under 6k! What is this?! I hope this one is easier to read and if it is, it's because two kind friends helped me heaps with their insights and feedback on this chapter: vuelie on tumblr (my fav Frozen analysis writer) and lianthuss (my fav Elsamaren writer; her fic, Sparks, is in favourites on my profile). Thanks for making me a better and less verbose writer!
lianthuss also drew (incredibly good looking) sketches of Oskar and Hakon, and two scenes from The Sky Is Awake! They're linked on my tumblr masterpost (themarshmallowattack).
Thanks for reading!