Chapter 7: Stay Alive
Days later, Queen Elsa and her new wife stood before the kingdom of Arendelle in the very same tiny little chapel where Elsa had been coronated as Queen several years earlier. Kristoff had spun a yarn to Secretary Mattis about the royal family's joyride up the North Mountain in the middle of the night. Elsa couldn't remember exactly what the cover story was, only that Mattis had bought it sight unseen. She never gave Kristoff enough credit - he was quite intelligent and quick on his feet. For that she was thankful.
Elsa and Ilya exchanged rings and vows, and the Bishop then said, "If there is anyone here who does not wish to see these women wed, let them by God stand up." Off to the side, Princess Anna and her family stared out at the congregation expectantly, anticipating nothing but using their regal aura to stare everyone down nonetheless.
So it came as a shock when two men not only stood up, but rushed for the altar, throwing back their hoods. When Anna saw the face of the man in the lead, her blood ran cold.
"I object!" Prince Hans of the Southern Isles bellowed as he dove forward, a hand plunging into his robes to retrieve a glistening blade. For if there was one thing that made Hans dangerous, it was attempted assassination.
The Arendelle guards were caught flat-footed, as Hans' partner, who turned out to be none other than the Duke of Weselton, cried out, "Kill her!" A terrified Ilya shrank against her wife as Hans went for the couple, without any guards to get in the way.
But someone else did.
Hans' blade found an unexpected mark, as little Vladimir leaped into the path of his aunts. There was a sickening crunch as the blade sank into his stomach, the little boy's interception so fast that Hans never really saw it, and so could do nothing to stop the inertia of his thrust.
No one in the chapel was more shocked than Hans, who not only was flummoxed to see his plan wrecked by a child, but that the lad was no doubt the son of Princess Anna.
As for Vladimir, he had overheard enough stories about Hans, even if he had not yet connected the man with the face now before him.
With a broadsword still in his chest, Vlad spat up blood as he got out, "You really need to work on your aim."
Hans' face twitched. Then with an angry roar, he moved to push the boy aside and finish the job with his bare hands, if he had to. Yet, it was with surprising strength that Vladimir actually held him back, his hands gripping anything within reach - Hans' wrist, his face.
And that touch set off the most astonishing moment of the whole fiasco.
Hans was stumbling back, away from the altar, his mouth dropped open in a scream that was soon wrenched from his throat. As he watched flames greedily lick up his arms, spread onto his cheeks. "What is this magic?!" Vladimir had just as little understanding, staring in shock at his own gnarled hands and then back at what those very hands seemed to have done. Were doing - and that was burning a man to death.
"Fool! Get the Queen!" Weselton shrieked, hopping up and down on his feet like an enraged elf.
Hans' screams were sickening as the flames consumed him unabated - until the evil Prince turned to ash, a pile of which fluttered to the carpet. No one made an attempt to halt the inferno. Vladimir, for his part, stumbled and swayed, turning back towards his aunts before his legs gave out and he collapsed upon the altar steps.
"VLADDY!" Elsa screamed, holding her bridal skirts up as she rushed to his side and knelt. She cradled him in her lap. "No... no... please, no... Oh, Vladdy!" And she hugged her nephew close, coming apart in heaving sobs.
None of the family seemed to notice Weselton hesitantly approaching. He appeared to have no weapon, and even if he did, he was in no position - with his short stature and the now-alert guards - to threaten the Queen. All the same, he shook his head. "Monsters. Like aunt, like nephew..."
The icicle appeared from nowhere, the sharpened tip piercing straight through the Duke's head, crushing his skull. He died almost instantly, held in the gaze of Elsa's murderous eyes, nearly red with rage.
The Bishop was shaking as he made the sign of the cross. "I now pronounce this couple wife and wife. In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost, Amen."
Elsa and Ilya shared a frantic, scared kiss. And only then, now sanctioned with a priest's permission, did all hell broke loose.
Elsa carried her little nephew in her arms as she ran, out of the chapel and back into the castle. Her bodyguards could hardly keep up with her, and the rest of the royal family fared little better. Kristoff and Anna had to practically sprint, screaming for their son.
"You're OK, Vladdy..." Elsa crooned, to her little nephew as well as to herself. Cuddled against her breast, Elsa could feel that Vladimir was still alive, but only just. He was groaning, swaying and slurring, his eyes glassy, unfocused and rolling around in his head. He looked small, far too small - not much smaller than Anna had been when she... The flashback to another relative's life threatened only made the Queen run faster.
Elsa quickly found the royal family's personal physician. "Doctor, help! Help! My nephew needs help; he's been stabbed."
"Of course, Your Majesty. Bring the boy to me! Your Highnesses, welcome, if you'll please step this way..." The royal doctor admitted Anna and Kristoff, and set to work.
"Doctor, please save my baby! Please!" Elsa was screaming hysterically, crying, wringing her hands and looking utterly distraught. She seemed to have little grasp on what she was actually saying. Kristoff briefly debated removing his sister-in-law from the room for her own safety, but had no idea how that might go. And anyway, he had never been fully comfortable commanding the palace guards, though he had the authority to do so.
Yet when the Doctor turned to Kristoff and practically begged him, "Get her out of here!" Kristoff felt he had no choice but to pick his sister-in-law up in his arms and carry her, thrashing, from the room. Elsa put up a pretty good fight, enough for Kristoff to have to turn to Ilya for help. Together, the two of them got her out into the hall and worked to calm her down.
"Vlad will come through," Kristoff said firmly, though he felt he was convincing himself more than Elsa or anyone. "Anna's with him."
Minutes passed like hours. Hours passed like days. Ilya encouraged Kristoff to go see his son, then report back to them when he could.
The moon was high in the sky when Kristoff finally came back with definitive news: "They've gotten the sword out. Emergency surgery. But... he's alive."
Elsa clapped a hand over her mouth, and sobbed, overcome with relief. Ilya held her soothingly.
"Do you want to...?" Kristoff hadn't even finished the question when Elsa was pushing him aside and barging into the room. She practically threw herself over a weakened Vladimir, covering his upturned face with kisses and tears.
"Oh... Oh!"
"I'm all right, Auntie, really..." Vlad chirped weakly.
Elsa was beaming, kissing her nephew again and again. It didn't even cross her mind that her nephew had saved her life. She was just glad he was safe. "Vladdy can have anything he wants! Anything at all! Auntie's just so happy her boy is all better!" When Elsa had finally gotten a hold of herself, she allowed herself to replay the events from her second wedding. And when she did...
"Vladdy... how did you do that? Burn Hans?"
Vladimir bit his lip. "I don't know," he admitted honestly. And he stared at his hands again, with a look in his eyes that Elsa knew all too well: fear. Fear over new power and what to do with it, never mind how to control it.
But a fear that was greater still, and only just beginning to recede, was Elsa's over how close she came today to losing family - again. She wouldn't let Vladimir feel that fear - not over loss, the powers he seemed to have, or anything else. What kind of aunt would she be if she did? That was what inspired her to take Vladimir's hands in her own and promise, "I'm going to help you use them."
Vladimir grinned with hope. "Really?"
Elsa smiled back. "Really."