The next day at morning tea Agdar announced that the Southern Isles had declared war on Arendelle. All four girls eyed each other when they heard this, their expressions hidden craftily behind their sugar and cream coated cakes. The King was unaware about their late night eavesdropping, and the sisters weren't about to tell him in that moment. Pretending to look shocked (they'd done all that the other evening), Elsa decided to ask a question. "Why did the war start?"
"The King of the Southern Isles," said Agdar, dipping a biscuit into his tea, "has received various reports from his ministers - the majority of them concern one of his thirteen sons."
Gerda gaped at him. "Thirteen sons?"
"Thirteen sons," the King repeated, "all princes. The King of the Southern Isles has protested the fact that one of his sons were abducted by our men between our kingdoms and taken here in hiding. As far as we know, no such incident has been recorded, and therefore our main representatives have insisted this is not true."
"Of course it isn't!" said the Queen angrily, standing upright with a flash of fury. "Our guards and soldiers are good men! They would never commit such a crime as this!"
"So to make a long story short," her husband continued, although even he was starting to see the ridiculousness of the new war, "The King of the Southern Isles wants to get back at Arendelle for what we supposedly did." Elsa noticed a dry, sarcastic tone in his last few words.
"Nevertheless, it doesn't matter. War is war. And we must be prepared for it." He squared his shoulders and glanced round at his wife and four daughters one by one. Knowing him the most out of her sisters, Elsa had a strange intuition that their father, the King of all Arendelle, showed far more confidence than he actually felt.
-o0o-
November, 1916
Out in the back garden, hedges of clustered wildflowers and red roses grew along a huge grass square where the white gazebo stood in a perfect scene of harmony. Perched upon a pair of wooden swings dangling from the ceiling, Rapunzel and Elsa discussed matters about the war.
"Turns out not only is Arendelle fighting against the Southern Isles," whispered Rapunzel as they swayed in the gazebo, "but Stefanbjord and Celadon Valley, two other nearby kingdoms, have decided to side with us. There's also news that Agrabah and Weselton are siding against Arendelle with the Southern Isles."
Elsa nodded. She had a feeling that a conflict between two different kingdoms would also turn against or join forces with other neighbouring monarchies. This war was beginning to transform into far more than they expected it to be.
"What about Corona?" she asked.
Rapunzel's face fell into worry. "We don't know for sure," she said, but Elsa could tell she was tugging at her nails while answering. "Eugene hasn't written to me for a week. Even the King of Corona has seemed to have given Father the cold shoulder."
"So it could be possible that Corona is with the Southern Isles?"
"It's not certain," Rapunzel insisted, but in truth she might have been mostly reassuring herself than dishing out the facts.
Elsa clasped her sister's hands in hers. "Don't fret, dear. I'm sure Corona will come through for us sooner or later. Besides, we've gained plenty of allies already, so why should there be any cause to worry?" She kissed Rapunzel on the cheek. "The war will be gone and done over with before we know it. Father will ensure that."
-o0o-
A band of trumpets sounded in the cold morning air and citizens came flocking by the hundred, forming a pathway as straight as a laid-out carpet from the Arendelle palace to the only religious place situated in the kingdom; the chapel. Every single person were all craning their necks, hoping to catch even the slightest glimpse of the King and his family.
Of course, no one cared much about Gerda by the time she passed by the crowds, as in front of her were her three sisters, all older and almost towering over her, dressed in the same diamond lined lace dresses and cream-coloured hats stuffed in the brim with pearly roses. Then there was the King and Queen, the main attractions as far as the people were concerned, the King in his famously photographed formal wear, and the Queen in a billowing lilac gown, her fully puffed up skirts trailing behind her - it could be said differently about her hair, as it wasn't in the usual loose curls, but piled up on her head in a bun, like many of the wealthy or fashionable women, only she had a small golden tiara perched up in her hair like a bird peeking out from its nest.
Gerda looked round her, attempting to absorb the sights - which mostly consisted of peering eyes and hands reaching out to touch a particle of clothing that belonged to the fleeting royal family. It was such a bore, to be stuck in a corset and petticoats, with the island's population gawking at you because you happened to be a King's daughter. Thank God she didn't have to wear a crown like their parents did - it would have been like trying to balance a brick on her head!
The curved mahogany doors to the chapel creaked open with a sound that echoed from the rusty metal handles. And suddenly Gerda's mouth was as open as the people outside.
The walls reaching the ceiling stood higher than in the palace. Looming mosaic windows let the light from the sun shine through, the images of Christ and the Virgin Mary glowing like an ember in soft shades, the dimness of the chapel vanquished by this beauty. Somehow, though, she could still sense darkness, even as lines of men dressed in white robes and gold sashes walked on either side of them along the aisle and carrying staff-like candle holders, a tiny flame emitting from each one. The wooden pews were mostly empty, except for an elderly woman praying fervently, and a few children glancing up at the royal family, their eyes full of tears - but they were not of sadness, but of hope. Everyone, Gerda realised, were counting on the King badly to win this war.
On the platform, where an enormous representation of the Cross hung behind, there stood the Bishop, in his intricately decorated purple robes and headwear as tall as any crown in the world. Even though his hair had long whitened to strands of snow and crinkles surrounded his face, his eyes were full of seventy years worth of pure wisdom and goodness. Gerda thought his presence amazing and truly admirable.
With the holy Bible held between his palms, the Bishop read multiple stories about the miracles of Christ, while the royal family sat listening intently in the front row. Finally, after a chorus of solemn hymns, the King stood up from the pews and kneeled before the Bishop. One by one, all six of them were at his feet. All prayed for the successful outcome of the coming war, and hoped in their hearts that their kingdom will be relieved of conflict for a long time after the war and remain forever in peace and harmony with the other kingdoms.
In front of her, Gerda witnessed her sisters and mother break down into quiet sobs, and even once or twice her father appeared to lose control of his emotions. But I will not cry, she thought to herself firmly. I will remain strong. For my family and for our kingdom.
When the family had at last returned home, the girls' father kissed their mother firmly, promised her a few minutes after his daily work in his study - it had increased tremendously since wartime had commenced - and gave an affectionate peck to every one of his daughters. Then he was gone.
"I wonder what's going to happen to us," said Anna out loud as the four princesses sat in the same room, in the same circle on the single bed, playing an hour-long game of cards.
"More importantly," said Rapunzel reasonably, "what's going to happen to Arendelle?"
-o0o-
"Punz, come here," Gerda whispered, and Rapunzel glanced up from her desk. Pieces of paper scribbled with ink cluttered all over the table, and a stain or two of upset ink had made their permanent marks.
"Not now, Gerda dear. I'm busy."
Gerda tried to look over her shoulder. "What's that you're writing?"
Rapunzel's hands instinctively reached to grab the papers and stuff them hastily in her lap. "Nothing."
"Why does everyone hide everything from me?" Gerda protested, jumping onto Rapunzel's lap, who flailed her arms around like a pair of propellors.
"I'll be thirteen soon. I'm not a child anymore!"
"Fine!" Rapunzel stood up in her chair which caused her sister to tumble onto the floor, rubbing her sore head in pain. "I've been writing to Eugene again," she said, fixing the folds of her skirts.
"The Duke? The man you're engaged to? I think you're on to something - in love, perhaps," Gerda grinned and slapped her on the arm playfully.
"Humph. You're one to talk. I've seen you and that kitchen boy together a lot lately."
"He's not just a kitchen boy, he's Kai," said Gerda irritably, "and we're only friends. I'll rather marry a soldier within the kingdom."
"Not a prince or duke?"
"Not for the world. I wouldn't marry anyway if it wasn't part of being a King's daughter."
"Hand it over, then." Gerda rolled her eyes and shoved an envelope into her hand. The envelope was white and sealed with red wax containing a sun emblem. Rapunzel recognised it - the symbol of Corona.
She picked at the seal with her nails, Gerda watching the envelope as if a grenade was being carried inside it. Rapunzel smoothed out the letter upon opening the envelope. Her eyes tilted upwards, surprise lighting up in the shine of emeralds.
"What?" Gerda demanded.
"It's - it's from Eugene," Rapunzel said, trembling from head to toe. "Read it. I can't." Her shaking hand slipped the letter into Gerda's own. Gerda dreaded the worst - perhaps Corona wasn't allies with Arendelle after all.
Dearest Blondie...
"Blondie? Of all the pet names he could have called you, the Duke decided upon that?"
Rapunzel pointed to her golden plait with her index finger. "Keep going," she urged impatiently.
I'm sorry that I have not written to you in two weeks. My father told me to put it on hold until he decided where Corona's loyalty lay in this oncoming war.
The weather's been horrible in these past few days. Instead of the warm, sun-filled summer days we had anticipated, Corona has been plagued with the fierce storms of the typical winter - it's as if our country knew what day it was today. Speaking of which, our soldiers have been fully prepared for the fight ahead. I have decided in my own time that I shall contribute to the brave services our army has done and will do. Do not be troubled, my love - I will be home in time for our marriage.
From your ever loving Eugene
P.S. We stand by your kingdom. Father has confirmed this. I fight for you, Blondie.
As Gerda concluded the letter, she realised that Rapunzel's eyes swum with fresh tears. "Oh..." Her whispers carried across the room in the form of a wind-like presence. "That was...that was..." She swallowed. "That was beautiful."
"Wait a minute," said Gerda, interrupting Rapunzel's sentimental moods, "Are you sure the Duke himself wrote this, and not maybe, I don't know, a member of the court representing him? This doesn't sound like the Duke of Corona at all."
"My God, Gerda, you're not the one writing to him," Rapunzel snapped in sheer frustration. "He's changed since the day we went to Corona." It's just like Anna said, she realised happily. He's a true man. He changed just for my sake.
"No need to shout at me like that," grumbled Gerda, and she exited the room, complaining under her breath, "You'd think she'd thank me for reading her letter..." Her voice drifted with her down the corridor.
When nobody was looking, Rapunzel let herself fall down on her back onto her bed, closing her eyes and clutching the letter to her chest as if it were a second heart. She felt as if she could cry all over again. He cares. He cares. Eugene does prize me above all else.
-o0o-
Before the sisters could even grip the truth that a war was breaking out, they were standing at the Arendelle port with their mother and hundreds of others the following morning, all rugged up in coats, waving tearfully at the King, who was departing for war in a yacht along with an entire army of Arendelle soldiers - each one wore proudly the colours of blue and green against their dull uniforms, as well as the golden flower emblem. Handkerchiefs fluttered and the voices of the people wished the men luck and to prosper in the war.
The yacht, recently constructed, was named Mélancholie, and rightly so; the women all felt it, from the royal family to the female villagers, for they feared greatly for those who knew them and fighting - but all knew that every sacrifice, great or small, was for the good of their sacred kingdom.