Ch. 32 Nightcap, Volume 1
Princess Anna of Arendelle stared out her bedroom window for a long time after Elsa left, watching the twinkling stars play hide-and-seek amidst the rolling clouds, and contemplated the conversation she had just had with her sister. Learning how to run the kingdom was going to be awful.
She had never really given much thought to what her father or sister actually did, or Arendelle's long-term future. When the gates were shut -which had been for most of her life- she had always assumed that being the ruler of a small country like Arendelle wasn't too hard and that the future sorted itself out naturally. Even after Elsa's powers were revealed, and the dull, irrelevant speck on the map that they called home suddenly became internationally famous, it seemed everything happened "like magic," as though Elsa could bend all of reality, and not just the temperature and forms of frozen water, to her will with a mere thought.
It was obvious now that there was nothing "mere" about Elsa's thoughts, and that there was a titanic effort going on behind the scenes to keep the nation and its citizens flourishing. The "continuous process" that Elsa spoke of was at odds with the classic, straightforward final resolution that Anna was so used to from stories, and part of her believed that her workaholic, worrywart, perfectionist sister was making things more complicated than they needed or ought to be.
But then again, a little more than a year ago Anna also believed that she knew what "true love" was, or at least believed she had a better grasp of it than her cold, condescending, hypocritical sister, only to find herself a short time later confessing her total ignorance about love to an impossible, living snowman. An impossible, living snowman who conveniently happened to have enough understanding of love to rescue her from despair and delicately nudge her conscience in the direction that would save her life; who happened to be unconsciously granted life and somehow endowed with this expertise by her seemingly cold, seemingly condescending, seemingly hypocritical sister. So perhaps using works of fiction as a guide for real life was unwise, and maybe listening to Elsa to begin with for once would be smart.
Anna sighed at the thought of everything her kind, gracious, virtuous sister had been through, and was clearly prepared to continue going through, to ensure that everyone else could live happily ever after. It was so unfair that there was no good way to make up for the childhood that Elsa had lost. Anna had often been shocked and horrified by Elsa's awkwardly stoic or painfully hesitant accounts of what had, and had not, gone on and been said behind closed doors. And she had doubts that Elsa was telling her the full extent of it.
How her sister endured those thirteen formative years of isolation, fear, and inhuman demands without becoming a monster or at least becoming unable to function was a mystery to Anna. She considered it something of a miracle that Elsa knew anything at all about love, and it was unsurprising that her concept of the emotion was currently limited to the self-sacrificing kind.
Anna growled in exasperation. Trying to help Elsa feel comfortable with herself and others was difficult enough without so many people at least initially reinforcing the conviction that Elsa was dangerous. Monsieur d'Ambly was correct that no one came to court Elsa, despite all the other types of guests who requested her time. In Anna's estimation, Elsa needed to mingle with people as herself instead of as the Queen of Arendelle or as the Snow Queen, but it was impossible to do with all these various visitors and sometimes even the local populace acting like Elsa was either a kind of unpredictable force of nature or a superstar celebrity. And now Grand Pabbie, their greatest magical ally, was suggesting Elsa would lose control in the future. It was no wonder Elsa was even now a little wary of her powers and afraid for other people. Since fear was still the Snow Queen's enemy, this was a problem.
And Elsa's contention that being struck in the heart by her magic was certain doom was an additional problem. She pondered over her sister's claim, trying to find flaws in the assertion, which admittedly was not her strong suit. But there had to be one. After all, during the evening's distress and tension, she loved Kristoff solely for the person he was. Surely she could do it even if her life depended on it. Surely Elsa, who didn't seem to comprehend romantic love, was wrong and the thought of one's beloved would override any terror and desperation, even if those burning cold shards of ice were spreading-
Anna abruptly stopped that train of thought, shivered, and hugged herself tightly, rubbing each hand on the opposite upper arm to keep the bitter memory at bay. She suddenly had an intense desire for a cup of hot cocoa and to snuggle up against Kristoff and let him reassure and hold her, but he was probably already asleep, and it would be inconsiderate to wake him over something as silly as imagining that she felt cold.
The cocoa, however, was quite enticing, so she donned the heaviest robe in her closet and socks and slippers before heading downstairs to the kitchen. At the base of the steps, she noticed a ruined table, which must have been the source of the crashing sound, and tried to figure out how Elsa had managed to do that. Then she sighed when she saw all of the ice sculptures of the North Mountain.
"She definitely needs a vacation, or at least more playtime," Anna murmured to herself, shaking her head.
She quietly crept down the dim hall. It was a holdover from the days when her parents frowned on her wandering around the castle after the workday was done. She opened the kitchen door slowly, not wanting to startle any of the staff if they were still busy. But the hour was late, and everyone seemed to have turned in for the night. She lit more candles in their sconces, giving the large room a cheery radience.
The fires were still smoldering in the bellies of the cast iron stoves, and she opened the damper on one of them to fan the fire back up to temperature, and placed a small pot of water on it to boil. The kitchen had been one of her favorite spots to pass the time when she was a child; it was a place to reliably find company and cake. Anna had learned how to use the stove both by observation and pestering the staff with questions. The pleasant recollections of talking with the cooks and scullery maids and the physical warmth of the room helped to chase away the phantom sensation of the excruciating, incapacitating cold seeping through her entire body.
She took off her robe and draped it over one of the chairs before rummaging through the pantry for cocoa, sugar, salt, vanilla, and cinnamon. With her back turned, she missed seeing a small, scaly creature scuttle across the floor. She set the ingredients on a table, retrieved a mug from a cabinet, and spooned generous amounts of cocoa and sugar into the cup and added a shake of cinnamon and a dash of salt. The only thing left to do was wait for the water to heat up.
Anna smiled both fondly and puckishly as the bubbles on the bottom of the pot grew larger. She couldn't help thinking of that night a few weeks after the Great Thaw when Elsa had been working late, had the hankering for a cup of cocoa, and so for the first time in her life tried to cook something herself, only to be stymied by the water's stubborn refusal to cooperate. The Snow Queen's frustration and confusion about her newly-discovered inability -and the realization that Anna was going to tease her about it forever- had been hilarious. Once Elsa's craving had been satisfied thanks to Anna's assistance and her magic was idling, she finally succeeded in doing one of the most ancient, simple, and universal things in the world, and her childlike fascination with the rapidly rising and bursting bubbles was utterly endearing, if a little poignant.
Anna filled the mug halfway with the hot water, and stirred briskly. She let the cocoa bloom and the sugar dissolve for about a minute before adding a little more water and a few drops of vanilla extract. She grabbed a bottle of milk from the icebox -one of Elsa's magical contrivances- and topped off her mug with a liberal splash of the finest dairy product that Arendelle's Sætersdal region had to offer. She swirled the spoon as she waited for the cocoa to cool to a tolerable temperature. After another minute, she took a swig of the delectable beverage and hummed with delight. She lounged in a chair and savored the elixir, all unsettling memories banished to the background.
This was the proper way to wind down after an eventful day, and if Elsa hadn't been nearly sleepwalking back to her bedroom, she would make another cup and bring it to her sister. If only Elsa would allow herself the luxury of an afternoon nap once in a while, they could have more late night kitchen raids (if it were possible to raid one's own kitchen) and make up for some of the hijinks that they missed out on when they were younger.
But naturally Elsa would never snooze on the job, even though she could do as she pleased, and there was no one who would dare reproach her for it. Again, Anna wondered what was the point of being a queen, of having all those responsibilities but apparently little freedom, of having power but rarely using any of it for her own personal benefit. She knew from anecdotes that her parents had told her and from Master -now Minister- Rogalund's lessons that many past and present rulers certainly exploited their authority for their own advantage without much concern for how it affected their subjects or the futures of their countries, so it wouldn't be an outrage or the end of the world if Elsa slacked off now and then.
Anna drank the last sip of her nightcap and scooped out the delicious slurry left at the bottom of the mug, and tried to look on the bright side of helping Elsa with her duties. Maybe it really would allow Elsa to finish work earlier, and then she could either nap to prepare for or recuperate from an evening escapade, or she could get out of the castle for an afternoon. Both of which would go a long way towards providing her sister with the happy ending she deserved.
However, it was just as probable that the Queen would simply employ her to get more work done during her regular business day; after all, this was intended to be instruction in how to manage the kingdom - and presumably a remedial class in court decorum. Neither of which sounded enjoyable.
Anna scowled as she washed the cup and spoon, and returned everything where it came from, and while her back was turned again, the small, scaly creature scurried once more. As much as being "the spare" had aggravated her insecurity, being "the heir" was even worse. Especially since she had hardly been trained for it before now. She had hardly been trained for much of anything pertaining to the real world before now, and she was beginning to understand how badly it had skewed her perspectives and expectations. Although Elsa insisted that their parents had done the best they could, Anna sometimes couldn't help finding fault ... even though she had to admit that she had adored her father at the time for not being anywhere near as stern and exacting of a taskmaster with her as he had been with Elsa. Anna decided that she definitely inherited her short-sightedness from her papa.
She was almost tempted to make herself another cup of cocoa to improve her mood again, but she was beginning to feel drowsy, and she only had a few days left to finalize the playlist for the Harvest Festival ball, oversee some more of the ball room and courtyard decorating, and drop off invoices at Minister Nilsson's office. If only her crash course in governing and the actual administration of the kingdom would be as easy and fun as planning a party with someone else footing the bills, she would ace the assignment.
Anna reminded herself that Elsa was genuinely being fair to her and treating her like an adult, that Elsa genuinely believed in her, that Elsa genuinely loved her. She could do this, especially with Elsa teaching her and encouraging her. And maybe those traditional, static happy endings were a little boring, anyway.
She extinguished most of the candles, gathered her robe, and slung it over her shoulder before giving the room one more glance to make sure she had tidied up everything. She had already gotten enough of the kitchen staff in trouble without someone being accused of leaving a mess for the early morning crew. Satisfied that she had left no trace of her visit, she walked purposefully back to her bedroom. She tossed the robe on the floor and removed the slippers and socks now that her chill had passed, and slid between the sheets. She had one week of being footloose and fancy-free before she had to learn the family trade, and she was going to make the most of it.
She nestled her head into a pillow and stared back out the window at the twinkling stars and clouds, feeling a little more positive about what lay ahead.
Author's Notes - The way Anna dusts some of the baked goods with powdered sugar (or whatever it was supposed to be) in "Olaf's Frozen Adventure" suggests that she knows her way around a kitchen.
Sætersdal is an older name of Setesdal, which is a valley in real-life Aust-Agder. It seems to have some agricultural history (the etymology is roughly "valley of the farmsteads"), so that's going to be where most of fictional Arendelle's crops are grown.
