34. The Breakfast of Champions
Elsa of Arendelle stretched and yawned in the dimness of her bedroom. The clock on the wall read twenty-five minutes after five. There was no point in dozing back off until Kai knocked. She may as well make herself presentable, eat some breakfast, and get an early start on her queenly duties.
At the thought of breakfast, her stomach growled. Truth be told, the previous night's meal had been slightly insufficient due to the ludicrously thin shaving of cake. Even though she had a larger lunch than was her usual, she had still been counting on regular servings of soup, salad, and dessert to balance out dodging the roast beef at dinner.
After the necessary interval in the bathroom, she annihilated the cushion of snow she had made for her feet, and deftly straightened the bedcovers. Growing up, Elsa never had a genuine lady's maid, and had done most of the cleaning and tidying around her suite herself. The housekeeping staff was even now under strict orders not to enter her quarters unless she requested it. It baffled many people, but she still needed places that were hers and hers alone, almost more than before.
A swift wave of her hand converted her nightgown into a daytime dress and shoes; she opted to forgo the cape for the time being, since breakfast was hardly a ceremonial affair. Another sweep of her hand frosted her loose locks of hair back into the windblown look that she favored. Her stomach gurgled again as she applied a light touch of makeup. "I hear ya," Elsa told it. "I'm working on it." She briefly glanced in the mirror, and was out the door and on her way to the royal family's private dining room.
Kai and some of the other staff were setting out the flatware and placing a floral centerpiece on the table when she entered. "Good morning, Queen Elsa," the overseer greeted her, and pulled out her chair. The two maids curtsied.
"Good morning, Kai, ladies," Elsa addressed them, and sat down - and her stomach chose that moment to rumble imperiously once more. "I know I'm a little ahead of schedule, but I need to insert some items that came up last night into today's agenda."
Elsa's tone was pleasantly casual, but the maids paused for a split second, and Kai stiffened. "Very good, Your Majesty," the major domo recovered evenly. "Your breakfast will be out shortly." The maids hurried into the kitchen. They had obviously already heard about the events at the state dinner and reception.
"I'd like to do some work on the coal negotiations before my interview with Miss Duffin. Please have the files ready for me as soon as I finish breakfast," Elsa instructed.
"Right away, ma'am," Kai said.
"And at least one of those crickets was definitely inside the castle. Please have a maintenance crew start looking for breaches in the windows, exterior doors, and outer walls," Elsa charged.
"Certainly, Your Majesty," Kai followed.
"And after my lunch, please arrange for the kitchen and serving staff to meet with me. Especially Antonia, Balász, Beate, Ulrikke, Fredrik, and Valdemar. Send someone to fetch them if they just so happen to be 'out sick' today," Elsa directed calmly. "Make sure you attend and have a little time for a one-on-one chat."
"Of course, Your Majesty," Kai complied with a slight cringe.
"Oh, it won't be that bad," Elsa promised. "But we need to sort out a few things."
"By all means, Your Majesty," Kai responded humbly.
"I also have a feeling that I will take a late afternoon tea at one of the embassies. Courtesy dictates that I should bring a token of esteem for my hosts. Please give one of the guards some spending money before we disembark, so we can pick up a gift on the way over," Elsa commanded serenely, and examined the fingernails on her left hand.
"As you wish, ma'am," Kai said with a smidgen of trepidation.
He was about to add a few words of caution when the other member of Arendelle's royal family stepped into the dining room. Princess Anna was still in her nightgown and robe and her hair was a jumble, although she looked surprisingly wide awake.
"Well, you're up early," Elsa said playfully.
"Oh, believe me, I'd rather be sleeping, but something just crawled across my face," Anna informed them as she plopped down in the chair next to Elsa, and rested her elbows on the table. "Having a big spider or a newt run down your forehead and over your nose and cheek will sure get you out of bed."
"It was probably a just cricket, but in case it wasn't, finding that gap is a top priority, Kai," Elsa urged. "Put as many people on it as you can spare, please."
"Understood, my Queen," Kai said with a slight bow and left to begin the day's preparations just as Elsa's breakfast was carried in by the maids.
They removed the covers from the trays to reveal: a three-egg omelet with leeks and asparagus; chocolate oatmeal generously topped with slivered almonds and sliced strawberries, fresh from the Snow Queen's magical preserve; and a huge tankard -almost more like a spoutless glazed earthenware pitcher than anything else- of hot cocoa with a small bottle of extra milk on the side. "Thank you," Elsa said to the women.
"Whoa! I'll have what she's having!" Anna blurted out. "Except I want ham, peppers, onions, and cheese in my omelet. And if we have any potatoes left from yesterday, I'd love some home fries. And two pieces of toast, with marmalade. Please."
"Which one of your legs is hollow?" Elsa deadpanned.
"Both of them," Anna answered without hesitation.
"A matching set - to go with your head," Elsa ribbed with a fond smile.
The maids suppressed giggles as they retreated back into the kitchen to convey the Princess' wishes, while Anna stuck out her tongue at her sister, grabbed a spoon, and filched a scoop of Elsa's oatmeal in retaliation.
"Mmmm, dism ism smooo gmoot!" Anna mispronounced with her mouth full.
"Hey! Wait for your own!" Elsa laughed, and protectively picked up the bowl and put it down on the far side from Anna. "Especially if you're oh-so worried that I'm not eating enough." She took a dollop herself and nodded in approval.
"Really, Elsa, since when do they put chocolate in oatmeal?" Anna inquired archly as she watched her sister eat the porridge at an unexpected pace.
"I didn't ask for it ... but I guess since ... the breakfast cooks ... found out ... I didn't get my ... recommended daily allowance ... of chocolate yesterday," Elsa slowly quipped between bites. Anna winced bashfully. "Besides ... you have ... no compunctions ... about eating ... pancakes or crêpes ... with chocolate sauce."
"Yeah, but pancakes and crêpes are supposed to be served with a sweet sauce, while oatmeal is supposed to be dull and healthy," Anna lectured breezily. Elsa scraped the last bit out of the bowl, and then downed half of the tankard of cocoa in one toss as the maids brought in Anna's meal. They all stared with awe at the impressive feat of imbibing. "Wow!"
Elsa wiped her mouth with her napkin with incongruous decorum and sized up her omelet. The maids removed the covers from the Princess' scrumptious spread; everything -the omelet, the oatmeal, the home fries, the toast- looked and smelled perfect. The only shortcoming was that the cocoa was served in a normal mug and not a capacious stein. "Thank you," Anna said to the maids. They bobbed their heads politely and withdrew back into the kitchen.
Anna tackled her oatmeal and looked on as her sister devoured her omelet with brio. "A little bit hungry, Your Majesty?" Anna poked.
"You should eat your food before it gets cold, Princess," Elsa said with impish menace. She finished the last morsel of her omelet, and reached for her drink. Anna gazed in wonderment while Elsa chugged the remainder of the cocoa, then demurely dabbed at the corners of her mouth with her napkin. "Anyway, Your Highness may have noticed that I had a light supper last night."
"Well, maybe if you had eaten your main course..." Anna proposed with mild sarcasm.
"I don't like roast beef, especially not when it's carved thick," Elsa said matter-of-factly.
"Why not? It's so tasty and juicy and-" Anna began.
"I just don't," Elsa interrupted with surprising intensity. Anna flinched somewhat at the Queen's vehemence.
"Sorry," the sisters apologized simultaneously.
"Sorry," Elsa repeated contritely, gripping tightly on her magic. "It's just ... I mean ... Foods like that can be ... hard to eat when they're frozen." Elsa kept her eyes focused on her empty plate.
"Elsa, why did you skip today's less- Why is it so cold in here?" Agnarr demanded as he shut the Crown Princess' bedroom door behind him.
"I'm sorry, I can't help it. I'm hungry," Elsa explained diffidently.
"That's really what I came here to talk to you about. Gerda says your food has gone untouched since yesterday's lunch. If you're hungry, why haven't you eaten?" Agnarr posed with concern.
"It freezes every time I try to," Elsa said softly and looked at the floor.
"Through the utensils?" Agnarr asked, valiantly refusing to shiver in the presence of his magical twelve-year-old daughter. His breath showed in the chilly atmosphere of the room.
"Yes, sir," Elsa said, resolutely refusing to tremble in the presence of her father the King. Her breath never made puffs of mist, no matter how cold she made her surroundings.
"And you were wearing gloves?" Agnarr checked.
"Yes, sir," Elsa said contritely and kept her eyes focused on the purple rug.
"Okay, it's all right," Anna consoled her, sensing that Elsa was somewhere -or somewhen- else in her mind, and realizing that dredging up unhappy reminders of how difficult it used to be to control the magic was a worse way to start a day than having some creepy-crawly tickle one's brow. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."
Elsa looked up from the plate and resolutely met Anna's eyes, focusing on the present. "Yeah, but I owe you explanations," she stressed. "I have a lot of silence to make up for. But I guess sometimes I forget that I can tell you about ... stuff. That I don't have to keep it all to myself anymore. It's another bad habit."
"I understand," Anna reassured her. "And I'm sorry for ... pushing you. We don't have to talk about ... stuff over breakfast. Mainly because I'm not exactly a morning person. And I should know by now that you're not exactly random about what you do. I have to remember that you weren't so closed off because you are arrogant or have weird phobias, that you never had a thing about dirt."
"Actually, I do have a thing about dirt. It's fine outside, but it doesn't belong inside," Elsa declared lightheartedly, regaining her good humor.
"I suppose that means you're going to veto the mud-wrestling segment that I'm planning for the Harvest Festival ball," Anna bantered, delighted to see Elsa's spirits bounce back quickly.
"I've told you that I want only good, clean fun at our soirées," Elsa said with mock seriousness.
Anna groaned and cradled her head on the table. "It is entirely too early for your type of humor, sis."
"Don't worry, I gotta get going. I need to do some commodities trading," Elsa said and stood up.
Anna raised her head and smiled. "Go get 'em, champ," Anna cheered.
Elsa leaned over her sister with the intention of kissing the top of Anna's head, but the unruly halo of hair thwarted her attempts to get close to anything solid. Instead, she gave Anna's shoulders a hug. Anna sighed contently - which quickly shifted to a gasp of exasperation as Elsa nimbly snatched Anna's mug of cocoa and snapped the beverage back in a single gulp.
"Hey! That was mine!" Anna protested.
"Turnabout is fair play, kiddo," Elsa said smugly on her way out the door. "Don't pout, they can make another one for you. Have fun, and don't forget to drop off those invoices." The Queen exited.
Anna ate a forkful of home fries and shook her head at the natural phenomenon that was her sister. "How does she drink that like and never burp?" the Princess asked the four walls.
Author's Notes - If there's one thing I learned from P.G. Wodehouse, it's to put a lizard in it. Need to get a habitual late riser out of bed early? Have a lizard do it.
This is a kind of Mood Whiplash chapter, because Elsa and Anna's relationship is so loving and hopeful and tortured and tragic, and the characters are so funny and angsty and awkward. And because thirteen years doesn't go away in just one - or even two or three.
Elsa's tankard of cocoa should be about the same size as a pitcher of beer. And no, she's never gonna burp in this story.
Elsa's flashbacks are a single narrative, told out of sequence. It's my imagining of what lead up to "Don't touch me! Please. I don't want to hurt you."
