AN: Sorry this was so late, and that it's a bit short, I think. I've had a lot of stuff come up recently, good, bad, annoying. The contract I have with the state is drawing to an end, so I have to find new work. I also decided Colorado is too expensive to live so I figured while looking for a new job I might as well look for a new state to live in. Unfortunately, I have like fifty choices so it's been a thing. Anyone got any ideas? Sell me on your state, or country. Anyone want to adopt a poor writer? :P
The better news, maybe, at least for me, is I have finally nailed a plot for my novel which is currently code named Protocol 67. The bad news is my writing time is now going to be share space with the new novel. I have pictures of the main characters on my twitter if anyone wants a peak.
Kristoff walked at a leisurely pace through the large hallways of the castle. He was relieved to finally be home, back in a familiar setting, but couldn't help the lost, helpless feeling that lingered. In Hasvik, he had distracted himself by helping with the odd job, but here in Arendelle, the castle was full of staff willing and able to help with anything that needed done.
He had spent the first day back tending to Sven—the castle staff had done an amazing job caring for him in Kristoff's absence, but it wasn't the same. Once he had assured his longtime friend that he hadn't abandoned him and never would, he set to mucking out the already tidy stalls, recoiled any rope he found, and polished and waxed his sled. With nothing else left to do, he had started toward the kitchens, looking to snag some carrots for Sven.
He thought about returning to work; it's what he should do. The ice harvesting season would only last so long, and each day he was here was another day of lost work, and less ice for him to sell later. But Kristoff couldn't bring himself to do it, to walk away from Arendelle like Elsa wasn't currently fighting through withdrawal and Anna wasn't struggling to balance caring for both her sister and the kingdom.
There was nothing Kristoff could do to help Elsa directly—the doctor's decision to limit those with direct contact to the ailing Queen wasn't just an attempt to cover up her withdrawal. The physician had genuine concerns about someone unknowingly bringing an opportunistic virus into the room. It wasn't something they could risk.
But he could help Anna directly, and by doing so, Elsa indirectly. Elsa's biggest concern was and would always be her little sister, and if Kristoff could help Anna and make sure she was taking care of herself, then Elsa would have one less thing to worry about. He could also make sure Anna was as okay as she could be, given the circumstances, he just had to convince her to allow someone to take care of her for five minutes. Of course, he might have better luck teaching a wall to roll over.
Kristoff paused in the middle of a hallway, looking around as he realized he didn't recognize any of the paintings on the surrounding walls. "Great," he muttered. He wasn't going to help anyone if he got lost. He was about to turn around and try to retrace his steps when a sound echoed down the hall. It sounded suspiciously like someone trying not to cry, or at least not be overheard crying.
He followed the noise to the end of the hall, turning the corner to find Anna curled on the floor. She was cradling her right hand in her left, her eyes glistening with the tears she was holding back. Tears of emotion, stress, and pain.
"Anna?" He covered the distance between them and dropped to his knees in front of her.
Anna pulled her shoulders back. "I—" She bit her lip and turned away.
Kristoff reached out, wrapping his fingers around her red, swollen ones. "Come on," he whispered, "let's get you some ice for this."
"Kristoff—"
"Ice first," he said gently. "Then questions."
After a beat, Anna nodded, allowing Kristoff to help her to her feet. They walked down the hall in silence, Anna pointing out the way to the kitchens. It was late enough that they made it there without encountering staff members or any other curious eyes. Kristoff paused at the door and peeked his head in, making sure the room was empty.
"We're clear," he said, then guided Anna into the room and toward a seat.
She sat quietly, and Kristoff took a moment to study her. His heart pounded in his chest, worried about what could have led her to that lonely hallway, why her knuckles were bruised. One problem at a time, he told himself, taking a deep breath. He left the distraught woman alone long enough to fetch some ice from the cellar, grabbing a towel to wrap it in on the way back.
Kristoff straddled the bench next to Anna and took her hand, gently pressing the ice against the bruised knuckles. Anna hissed in pain. She flinched, but otherwise remained still.
He held the ice in place for a few minutes before lifting it to gently prod Anna's knuckles. "Well, nothing's broken, so that's good."
When he was met with silence, he tried again, in a lighter tone. "You didn't hit one of the council members, did you? Not that I wouldn't approve, but I hear that's frowned upon in high society."
Anna exhaled softly. "No," she finally said after another long pause.
"Then what happened?"
She fixed her gaze on a spot on the tabletop. "I hit Erik."
Kristoff raised an eyebrow. "Well, I can't say I blame you." He returned the ice to her knuckles. "In fact, I would bet anything there's a line forming somewhere for that exact thing."
"Elsa will be disappointed."
"Hardly." Kristoff snorted. "She might pretend to be, for the sake of appearances, but I have a feeling there are a few people she'd enjoy clocking herself."
"Maybe. But she wouldn't. She's better than that." Anna took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I shouldn't have hit him, or yelled at him. He may have played a role in starting this whole mess, but he's hardly the worst offender." She pressed her free hand against her forehead. "And he just lost his brother and is being held prisoner." Her eyes watered. "I was just so—" Her breath hitched, her teeth clamping down on her bottom lip.
"Overwhelmed, scared, frustrated, angry?" He offered when she didn't continue. "All the above?"
Anna shrugged, dropping her hand. "I guess. Still, Elsa wouldn't have done it."
Kristoff nudged her chin with a finger, forcing Anna to look him in the eyes. "You're not Elsa, and no one expects you to be. No one would want you to be. You guys are like two sides of one coin, fire and passion, grace and calm. You balance each other out."
Anna was quiet for a long moment. "You don't think I'm graceful?" she asked, a sliver of amusement in her eyes.
Kristoff might not have spent a lot of time around other people, but he could still spot a conversational trap. "I think you are graceful in your own way," he said diplomatically.
"Mother and Father used to tell me that, as well."
He winced. "A little patronizing?"
A ghost of a smile played at Anna's lips. "A little, but it's the thought that counts."
Kristoff removed the now mostly melted ice from Anna's hand and set it aside on the table. "How's it feel?"
"Better, I guess." She flexed her fingers, wincing at the movement.
"Might still be sore for a day or two, but I don't think you did any real damage." He ran his thumb over the back of her hand, then looked up, studying her for a moment, taking in the raw pain and fear in her eyes. "How are you doing? I mean really doing?"
Anna tore her gaze from his. "I'm fi—"
"Aren't you always yelling at Elsa for saying that?"
"Tired," she amended. "Scared. Some of the council seem supportive, but others . . . I'm afraid they might try something if Elsa doesn't get better soon."
"Like what?"
Anna sighed deeply. "I don't know. I just don't trust them. At least, not all of them."
Kristoff nodded. "And how is Elsa?" he asked carefully.
Anna's breath hitched, her fingers tightening around Kristoff's. "Not good. She—she hasn't been able to keep anything down. She's barely had any water. Gerda said she's been dozing in spurts, woken up by nightmares or pain. When I was in there earlier, she—" Anna broke off with a sob, covering her mouth with her uninjured hand. Tears broke free, trailing down her red cheeks.
Kristoff shifted closer and wrapped an arm around her trembling shoulders.
"She's giving up," Anna said. "And I can't—I can't do this again, and I know it's selfish, but I just watched my sister almost die once already. I can't—" Another strangled sob tore from her throat, choking out the rest of her words.
Kristoff pulled her close and embraced her with both arms as she sobbed into his shoulder. He didn't know what to say, if there was anything he could say, so he remained quiet, rubbing her back in slow, soothing circles. He sat like that with her until her cries faded into hiccups and she eventually went quiet, having exhausted herself into sleep. He thought about picking her up and carrying her to her room but was afraid she would wake and insist on returning to her sister rather than getting the rest she so desperately needed. So he sat as still as he could on the bench, allowing Anna to get some of that sleep here before he risked waking her.
Anna folded her arms around herself as she traversed the hallways. After crying against Kristoff's warm shoulder she had fallen asleep, she wasn't sure at what point he carried her to her room. She had a hazy memory of waking enough to know she was being moved, but too exhausted to do more than drift back off almost immediately. She slept a few more hours in her own bed, enough to take the edge off her exhaustion, but not enough to cure it.
After letting out her pent-up emotions, first on Erik's face and then Kristoff's shoulder, she no longer felt like she might explode or collapse under the weight of it all. But she didn't exactly feel better, either. She just felt drained and sort of numb. Like everything she had to give had already seeped out. Anna supposed it was better than wanting to breakdown in the middle of the hallway—or worse, a council meeting—and bawl her eyes out.
She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Buried below the numbness, she was guilt-ridden. She was supposed to talk to Malthe. That's what she had meant to do last night. Her sister was suffering, on the verge of giving up, and Anna had been taking a nap. Even if she had needed it, it was selfish. Anna shook her head at herself. She would check on her sister first, then find Malthe and do what she should have done last night.
She braced herself for the bitter cold as she pushed the door open to her sister's room, only to find it surprisingly warm. Not hot by any means, but a comfortable, soothing sort of warmth. Hope filled Anna's chest, and she took a few steps into the room, eyes searching out for her sister.
Gerda stood at the side of the bed, just behind where Malthe was seated next to Elsa. Anna's gaze found Gerda's, and the growing hope within her chest was shattered into a thousand pieces, sharp pain choking her and stealing her breath.
Malthe looked up, his expression grim and etched with sadness. "Gerda, will you excuse us?"
Gerda looked from the doctor to Anna, then nodded. On her way out of the room, she paused long enough to give Anna's shoulder a squeeze, though Anna didn't draw any comfort from it. Her gaze was locked on her sister's prone figure, her limbs buried beneath a light sheet. Anna remained rooted in place, and from across the room she couldn't see the rise and fall of Elsa's chest. She was terrified that moving closer to the bed wasn't going to change that.
"She—" That's all Anna managed before her throat clogged and she choked on the words.
"She's still with us."
Anna felt all the air rush out of her. She reached deep inside for those fractured bits of hope; where there was life, there was still a chance. There was still hope. No matter how many times it was broken, it was still there. Numbly, she crossed the room. Malthe stood, allowing Anna the room to sit on the bed next to her sister.
Elsa looked awful. Her face was still flushed red, sweat soaking her forehead. There was a crease between her eyebrows that told Anna her rest wasn't peaceful and her breath moved across too pale lips in stilted pants, like each one was taking more energy than she had to give. "Elsa?" she whispered softly.
"We—" Malthe shook his head. "She slipped into unconsciousness late last night and we haven't been able to wake her since."
A vice tightened around Anna's chest. She shouldn't have slept. She never should have allowed herself that moment, not when her sister was slipping away. "Yesterday, she—if we gave her some of the blood clover—" She turned pleading eyes on the doctor. She needed him to do something, anything, to make this better.
A look of regret crossed his face. "I can't."
Anna shook her head. "I know Elsa said no before, but last night I was in here and—"
"That's not what I mean," Malthe said, looking apologetic for interrupting her. "I can't because there is no blood clover to give her. It was destroyed."
Anna blinked. "But you knew how bad this could get. You told me. How could you not save some, just in case?"
"I'm sorry, Your Highness, it wasn't my decision. The Queen had Alarik take Rayna and make sure they destroyed every bit of the plant before we left Hasvik. I didn't even know it happened until after the fact. If I had, then I would have saved some."
Anna wrapped her fingers around Elsa's hand, the tender skin burning against her own, and looked down at her sister. Elsa had known there was no blood clover. Last night, she wasn't asking for the drug, but blindly begging for relief. Anna bit her lip, trying to hold back the tears. She looked up at the doctor, unable to ask what she needed to know.
Malthe seemed to understand. "It's not good, I'm afraid," he said, answering her unasked question. "Sometime during the night, her magic just . . . stopped. Her temperature is still disturbingly high, but we haven't been able to give her anything. Not for the pain, or for the fever. Nothing outside of some topical ointment, which is a far cry from what she needs. We have been able to give her water, a little at a time, but I'm afraid she is sweating it out faster than we can replace it."
Anna swallowed thickly. This wasn't fair. They had just gone through this in Hasvik. Elsa had managed to pull through, had beat impossible odds. She was supposed to be okay. Everything was supposed to be okay. It wasn't fair. "Is there nothing we can do?"
Malthe hesitated.
"What is it?"
"The apothecary's journal, the one from Hasvik. Rayna believes there is something in there that might help, a potion they used on soldiers with magic who were seriously injured. She's looking through the journal right now and cross-referencing the information that we have here in our library. But I'm hesitant to give her anything I'm unfamiliar with, and—"
Elsa jerked, making a gurgling sound as she struggled to breathe.
"Sit her up," he said to Anna in an urgent tone, turning to grab a bowl.
Anna did as she was told, pushing her sister upright and sliding behind her. Malthe pressed a small pillow against Elsa's middle and instructed Anna to wrap her arm around it, bracing the injuries. Elsa gagged and choked, bringing up stomach acid into the bowl, followed by painful sounding dry heaves. The fit didn't last long, but enough to turn Elsa's already shallow breath ragged. As the doctor removed the bowl, Anna shifted her arms around her sister, cradling her. Elsa's head lolled against her shoulder, her hot breath cutting against her neck.
A chill rushed down her spine when she realized she couldn't feel her sister's breath anymore. "Elsa?" It was just a hitch in her breathing; it was okay. Anna shifted the older woman, moving so that she could see her face, her chest. There was no movement.
The doctor's rushed footsteps echoed distantly against the hard floor as Anna called "Elsa!" She gripped her sister's shoulder and shook her. Anna was about to turn to Malthe for help when Elsa's back arched and she dragged in a ragged breath, followed by another, falling back into that shallow rhythm she had earlier.
Anna's frenzied mind skipped over broken thoughts, unable to process what just happened. She could no longer hold the tears at bay. They trailed down her cheeks as she turned to Malthe, her voice thick with fear and desperation. "Whatever it is Rayna found in that book . . ." She pulled her sister close, cradling her limp body. "Please, I don't care what it is. Do it, if it can help her."
Malthe nodded solemnly.
Anna stayed by Elsa's side, refusing to leave. Not for anyone or anything. The entire kingdom could be on fire, and she still wouldn't have left her sister. She hoped it wasn't though; when Elsa woke, she wouldn't like that Anna had allowed the kingdom burned. Anna held her sister for hours, counting each breath, waiting nervously between every pause and stutter. While Elsa slept, Anna talked to her about everything and about nothing. She explained in detail how she wanted to improve the different things around town, about the trip she wanted to take to the Sommerhus. She recalled the last time they were there and the white hare they had found. That she had found for Elsa.
At some point in the day Malthe returned, a cooling cup of something in his hands. He told Anna that he wasn't sure whether it would help, but he knew every herb that went into it and was confident it wouldn't make things any worse. It wasn't terribly reassuring, but at this point Anna was willing to try anything.
They couldn't risk Elsa getting sick again. Her breath had become so shallow that Malthe was worried the stress of being sick would be too much for her to handle. So they went slow, painstakingly giving her sister the mixture a few drops at a time. It felt like it took forever, but they finally emptied the cup. Anna settled back against the headboard with her sister tucked against her chest. She resumed her counting, her talking, until her voice went hoarse. Even then, she didn't stop. Gerda came in to check on them both, offering to bring up food. No one tried to convince Anna to rest—they knew it'd be pointless.
The hours passed, and Anna considered it a small win that Elsa had kept the drink down. It wasn't much—her breathing was still too shallow and her skin burned against Anna's—but it was something.
Anna dozed off and on during the night, sleeping only when she could no longer keep her eyes open. Every time she would wake a few minutes later and rush to check that Elsa was still breathing before relaxing back against the headboard.
It was early in the morning, pre-dawn, when Anna felt a shift. Something was different. Her heart hammered against her chest as she observed the woman cradled in her arms. Elsa was still breathing, her cheeks were still flushed red, and her skin was still hot against Anna's.
Anna brushed her fingers through her sister's sweaty bangs, and then she finally realized what was different, what had changed during the night.
The door opened softly, and the matron stepped into the room. Anna didn't wait for her to say anything before blurting out, "Gerda, get Malthe." Pressure built in her chest as she struggled to force the next words through numb lips. "I think her fever has broken."
