"I don't think Helena's aware of her sister's plans," Elliott said, but he didn't look too sure. "Anyway, I should… I should talk to her. Then I'll give Astrid my answer."
"Ugh, Elliott, please don't," Andy pleaded, but Elliott was already up and walking towards the door rather stiffly. The snowflakes had stopped, but the cold, apprehensive aura followed his brother. He got up and followed, "You don't have to—"
Elliott opened the door to reveal his bride-to-be. Helena had a hand raised, ready to knock. It seems she and Elliott had the same idea that they just had to talk to each other. Andy tried to ignore her red-rimmed eyes. Maybe she hadn't known about her sister's plan after all, but he didn't pity her.
"Helena?" murmured Elliott.
And then she started to cry.
Helena
The brothers watched in stunned silence as she staggered inside whatever the room was. A study, servant's quarters— it was all the same to her. Andy immediately got tense and Elliott looked uncomfortable . Elliott, her… her betrothed.
It still made something unpleasant inside her roll with dread. After Maddy reluctantly revealed the news Helena just… she went blank. Then she got angry. Then the blubbering self-pity set in. And finally, desperation. But no threat, bargain or plead moved her sister. Maddy was adamant about obeying Astrid's orders. So she ran.
She ran blindly down the hall, shoving past servants and suits of armor. To where? Her initial intentions had been to find the Queen of the Southern Isles and throttle her with her bare hands. Maddy had started the job years ago and got a scar to show for it— now Helena intended to finish the deed, whatever it took. Jail-time or exile couldn't be worse than this. Being forced to marry the man she tried to kill and basically take everything from. She just couldn't handle it.
Halfway there she realized she didn't know where she was going and that it was pointless to fight. That's when a void of resignation mixed with despair set in her heart. She started breathing in panicky breaths and her eyes got unpleasantly warm. Her throat closed up— the crying was coming. It was just a matter of when. She preferred to do it privately, but just as the Fates would have it— Astrid walked past her just then, an evil smirk on her face. It made Helena's muscles tighten. It was the face of a woman who had won.
"You— You can't make me do this," she gasped, but the poor thing still managed to try a firm voice. "I won't. He won't. Neither of us—"
"Oh, but you will," Astrid didn't even stop walking. "I don't care for what you want… oh, he's at the end of the hall, big oak door. Perhaps you should have a little chat before he agrees to my demands," and her oldest sister rounded the corner and left her, just like that.
That chain of events led her to… to where she was at the moment. With both brothers staring at her as the dam she'd built inside her broke down completely. If there was one sound she couldn't stand it was that of people sobbing, so she tried to stifle them.
"I—uh, I've got to— Krista's looking for me," Andy excused himself after his attempt feeble excuse. He gave his older brother a firm pat on the shoulder and then he left, closing the door with a soft click.
She and Elliott were alone.
Get it together, she scolded herself. She was being completely pathetic. If someone got the rotten end of this deal, it was Elliott. He had all the right to complain. She was getting exactly what she deserved. A miserable life for a miserable girl. One thing was to be hated at home by your sisters. A completely different one would be to be hated by your husband. To live with, dine with, to share a bed with…
She almost groaned in frustration. Then there was Andy. She would have to see him every day, his big dumb green eyes and his easy smile— and Krista. If Andy were to ever marry that ice harvester, Helena would become related to the likes of her. The three of them against her… plus that insufferable snowman, General Winter.
"Helena?"
She grit her teeth and angrily wiped away the tears. She refused to let him continue seeing her at one of her lowest moments— again. The gentleness in his voice infuriated her more than anything.
"It was not my idea," she said quietly. When her voice didn't shake, she gathered confidence in her words and turned around to finally face him. "This was not my idea," she repeated, her bloodshot eyes fixing on his blue ones. "I didn't have anything to do with this. Astrid—"
He raised his hands in a placating gesture, "I know. This is your sister's scheme entirely. It's not your fault."
She almost scoffed at the calmness in his voice, the neutrality on his face. Why did it feel like she was the only one upset over the news? He probably wanted to marry her as much as she did— which she didn't. At all. Not anymore. She dreamed of being queen once— but not…like this.
There was something seriously wrong with her. Mere days ago she'd been perfectly fine with getting the throne through regicide— but apparently getting it via an arranged marriage wasn't the same to her troubled little head. I'm damaged, she noted with dull amusement.
Helena knew herself better than anyone else, obviously, so she kinda knew why this was so different. The whole kill-Elliott-to-get-the-throne thing had been under her own terms. She'd accepted those actions, those concequences. But this marriage thing? Astrid was the author of this one. It was Helena's nature to rebel against anything her sisters wanted to force her to do.
"So, what? You're okay with this?" she gestured between them, "Y-You and… me?"
"Of course not," he replied. "I don't appreciate being told what to do. Nor do I enjoy being blackmailed and—" Helena saw the briefest of glimpses of that man on the mountain that almost killed two men cross Elliott's face. That primal anger that Helena helped stop. But he quickly regained his composure. "It's not ideal, and I don't… I'm not okay with this. With us. But…" he swallowed, "We are to be married, a-and… we'll endure this."
Helena's right hand clenched into a fist at his passiveness. "Why don't you fight her? How come you're just giving in?"
The dark look crossed Elliott's face again. "Because I want peace. Your sister has promised a lot of things— I don't know how much of it was true, but I'll take my chances if it means saving Arendelle."
If Astrid was promising things, chances were she would deliver. If her sister had one redeeming quality it was that she always kept her word.
Helena rolled her eyes, absolutely not caring anymore. "You're being a selfish."
Elliott chuckled without humor. "That's rich coming from you."
"You don't get it," Helena tried to keep her cheeks from reddening, "First she'll want a marriage, then she'll want us to… consummate it by, uh… procreating..." she almost gagged and let her sentence trail off.
Elliott ducked his head so she didn't catch the expression on his face. He marched away towards two chairs— probably where he and Astrid had been talking minutes before. He sat down and waved at the other chair— Astrid's chair— but she remained standing.
"I know how consummating a marriage works," he said evenly. "She has no way of knowing if we've… you know. We don't have to—"
"She will know," Helena said, the frustration she felt creeping into her voice. She had refused to sit on the chair by Elliott, so she simply stood at his side to talk to him.
Elliott scowled, "She won't unless you tell her. It's none of her business—"
"She'll make it her business! She's a maniac! You probably won't believe me, but she'll go as far as to checking the sheets to confirm…"
"Oh, I believe you," now Elliott's face was red too. "Wait, so the sheets… you've never… lain with a man before?"
She couldn't even come up with a witty reply so she just smacked his arm instead, alongside an indignant little noise. Below the properness the guy had a cheeky side. She didn't know if she liked that.
"Just trying to get to know my future wife, no need for violence." He said dryly, "And, hey, whatever. I've never been with a woman either. You'd probably expect it from the recluse ice monster."
"You're not a monster," she said almost automatically. There was no reason for her to want to make him feel better, yet she said the words. If anyone in that room was a monster it was her. Then why… "You're acting odd. Did you forget the kind of person you've agreed to marry? The… heinous bitch?"
"It's called coping. My coping is usually self-destructive, so I'm trying Andy's way. Making jokes. Self-deprecating ones sometimes, but… I don't know. It helps." He looked up at her from his sitting position, "I think you, too, are using this system to cope."
Well, it was true. She had just called herself a bitch. He was right. She was using the make-jokes-about-it-to-feel-better method to deal with things. It was either this or crying. And she hated crying. It was weird how they both had just sort of… resigned themselves to the situation. They couldn't fight it… at least not right then. All they could do was succumb to it.
A couple of seconds of comfortable silence passed before Elliott stood up and walked over to the desk. He rummaged inside the drawers until he pulled out a bottle, "Would the princess care for some wine?"
She raised an eyebrow and tried not to roll her eyes at the mocking in his voice. "You keep bottles of fine wine inside desks?"
He shrugged, "It was a gift I forgot to put away. And I could really, really use a drink."
"Do you have any hidden cups—" with incredible ease Elliott pulled open the cork and took a long swig straight from the bottle. Small patterns of frosting spread from his splayed fingers around the bottle, intricate designs giving the dark glass a unique look. Showoff.
He offered her the whole bottle, his eyes were darker and they shone with something she couldn't quite place. "We'll fight Astrid when we get our chance," he said, a fierce determination in his eyes, "I don't know about you, but I'll be bidding my time for the right moment. But, for now…"
Elliott wasn't weak like she'd originally thought. He was strong— just a different kind of strong. He wasn't going to start a war over something as stupid as this— but he didn't plan to let Astrid win on the long run either. She knew now, they were on the same page. Neither of them wanted to follow through with Astrid's plan, to do things by her terms. They were stuck on the same shitty situation, they might as well make the best of it.
Without a word, she took the bottle from him.
Krista
Krista got two bits of terrible news at once— so it basically felt like she got punched in the face. Twice.
First, her uncle— the annoying coward was back yet again begging for her forgiveness after he left her alone to fight the Blizzard Dragon. She should've expected no help from a man like that, but still the disappointment had stung when he had simply watched from the sidelines as she fought against the icy beast.
Now it was finally the day she could be meeting the mysterious man her mother wanted her to marry. Axel swore up and down she wouldn't regret this. She went with it mostly out of curiosity, and to at least make an effort to honor her mother's wish. She had no intention of talking to the guy for more than five minutes but hey— at least meeting him wouldn't hurt, right?
The second bit of news was more unsettling.
"Elliott's marrying her?"
"Helena! I know, right?!"
They were cooped up inside Krista's little hut-home at the Valley of the Living Rock as she got ready to meet with Mystery Guy. Axel and her troll family were banished from the hut until further notice, so it was just her and Andy. Suri was outside keeping her uncle company. At first she'd felt nervous just being the two of them, and about how Andy would feel being in her house practically made out of rocks and mud. But he didn't seem to care. He flopped right down to the bed, kicked his boots off, and began to rant as she tried to brush the knots out of her tangled mess of blonde hair.
"He can't marry her," Krista said. "What good is that gonna do?"
Krista raised her eyes to catch Andy's troubled expression in the mirror.
"Um, I don't know how much I should say of this but… things aren't going all that well. Money-wise. So the Southern Isles have offered Elliott a bunch of goodies to save Arendelle— goodies plus no war. All at the price of marrying him to a sociopath!" Andy squirmed in her bed, as if he could physically express how gross the whole situation was.
The bad financial situation made sense. Prices for food had gone up, sky-high. The Summer Festival preparations must have been costing a fortune. All because of Elliott's winter.
She pulled at the knots more aggressively, "So Elliott has no choice… can't he ask other countries to—"
"Astrid is friends with other countries! My brother doesn't know them, they don't know him. Astrid could just tell them, like, 'hey, that guy has ice powers! he'll freeze your kingdoms! let's attack him!' This is just… ugh," he grabbed her pillow and pressed his face against it, muffling an angry shout. Suddenly he laughed, "Hey, it smells like you."
"Thanks?"
"Ah, then there's the other awful pairing," Andy tossed the pillow away and sat up on the bed, catching her eye on the mirror, "You and Mr Mystery Guy."
"I'm just meeting him. No harm in it."
"Riiiight," he narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but he mostly just looked cute. "And I'm not allowed to come."
"I don't want you sending him to the dungeon."
"You wound me! I would never—"
"Andy."
Finally, he smiled, which made her smile back. "Fine, fine. But I must insist you take a chaperone."
"My uncle is going to be—"
"I don't like your uncle." He said. Then he quickly added, "No offense. But you should take General Winter. It would make me feel immensely better."
"Um, why would I want a sword-wielding grandpa as my chaperone? What if the General thinks he's a Meltling and attacks? What would you do if that happened, my prince?"
"If the talking snowman decides to decapitate your date, who am I to stand in the way of fate?"
"It's not a date," she laughed. She set the brush down and looked at the lazy blonde curls that barely reached her shoulders. Krista didn't look like no Southern Isles Princess, she simply looked like herself, and for the first time she didn't feel self-conscious about it.
"Then why are you dressed so nice?"
"I just brushed my hair a little. And for the record? I like my ice harvesting clothes better." She smoothed down the yellow dress she'd picked to meet her mother's… acquaintance? She glanced back at Andy, sulking in her bed. "Hey, I'll be back before you know it. And don't worry about Elliott— he knows what he's doing."
Andy sighed and waved his hand dismissively, "Have fun."
Brandon.
That was his name.
Her uncle had arranged for them to meet right by the market square. But the guy was late. So Krista entertained herself by watching people fix everything the Blizzard Dragon had trampled during its earlier rampage. The blonde leaned against a pillar, enjoying the warm summer breeze with her arms crossed over her belly. Normally she would be over there with them helping any way she could, but not today. Not when all her nerves were on edge at the stranger she was giving a chance.
She was also living with the slight terror of General Winter having followed her and attacking this Brandon (probably under Andy's jealous orders). When the boredom got too great, she started to try and picture the guy in her mind. Brown hair, black, blonde, gray? She didn't even know the guy's age. He could be thirteen years old for all she knew. Or forty.
Before she got dizzy thinking about it for too long, the most trivial of movements out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. Some major working force made her turn on that very moment, because usually she would have missed such a quick movement.
A guy in his early twenties had her purse dangling from his index finger. It wasn't a fancy purse or anything— in fact, all that was inside it was her pickaxe. You know… just in case. Great thing to bring on a first date. Not that this was a date.
"Oi!" she yelled, swiveling around to face the thief. His skin was dark and his brown eyes shone with amusement. His curly brown hair was tucked inside a paperboy cap, giving him a boyish look but the stubble on his cheeks revealed his true age.
He smiled cheekily and flexed his legs as if ready to run, "It's nothing personal—"
The poor guy probably wasn't expecting the 5'2 blonde girl in a dress to charge him as violently as she did. The impact was so solid she heard his gasp as he got the wind knocked right out of him. She didn't think as she drove her elbow against his chest and tackled him to the ground.
"Oof!"
She ripped her purse right out of his fingers with one swift pull as the guy lay dazed on the ground below her. She grinned at her small victory and stepped away from the stunned thief. The assault attracted attention, and an Arendelle guard in a green uniform approached them.
"Is he bothering you, miss?" he asked, shooting the man on the ground a distrustful look.
She opened her mouth, ready to say that yes, this guy just tried to rob me! But for some reason she glanced back at the guy's face, only to be met with puppy-brown eyes silently pleading with her. Crap. Why did she have such a kind heart?
"N-No, actually. We're fine." She lied through her teeth. Why was she helping him. The guy on the ground extended his hand as an act of good faith, with the same cheeky smile as before.
She gripped his hand harder than necessary and he winced, but she still pulled him up to his feet. The guard nodded and left them.
"Hey, thanks! That was sweet of you." The guy had a tilt to his voice, a Spanish accent maybe? He brushed himself off and bowed his head, "I'm truly sorry about the whole steal-your-purse-thing. I had an urge…"
Krista narrowed her eyes and ignored him. From the depths of her purse she pulled out her uncle's crumpled note in his swoopy handwriting to double check if there was a set time for the dumb meeting with Mystery Guy.
Krista
Meet at market square
His name is Brandon
-Axel
The blonde growled in frustration and balled up the paper in her fist once again. This was a bad idea. Maybe it would be best if she left. She was doing this for the sake of her mom's late wishes, but this was just—
"…Yo, I have a paper just like that!" She'd completely forgot the almost-thief was still standing right beside her. She shoved the paper back inside her purse and prepared herself to tell him to mind his own business, but literally from inside his shirt he pulled out an identical crumpled-up paper. He smoothed it out and pointed at the handwriting, "See? Meet at market square, Her name is Krista…"
He gasped and blinked, "No way— you're Krista?!"
She almost choked with her own saliva between trying to breathe and trying to reply, "Brandon?"
"Huh. Well… this is not quite how I expected us to meet," he chuckled, from nervousness or because he found it truly funny she could not tell. He then rubbed the back of his head and pulled off his hat; yep, he was nervous.
"My mom wanted me to marry some thief?" The thought left her mouth before she could stop it. "You're late, by the way."
"I'm not a thief! Uh. At least I don't mean to." Brandon offered her a sheepish smile. "I've got issues with taking things. Breaking into places. Stealing private information—" he clamped both hands over his mouth. "I— ignore I just said that. Uh."
She couldn't even form another sentence. Is this what her mother meant with 'climbing the social ladder'? She'd half expected some rich snob. Not this kleptomaniac. Krista leaned against the wall again. She didn't plan on going anywhere with this guy now. She might as well make herself comfortable while he talked.
"I'm not what you expected," he noted, his shame quickly disappearing. He tilted his head, "You aren't, either. What I expected. My mama failed to mention you hit like a bull… in a good way, in a good way!" he added quickly when Krista's eyes flashed. "I like that in a woman. You can defend yourself. That's grand. It's swell. Very good."
"Yeah, um… I'm going to be honest with you, Brandon. I'm kind of in a relationship. I just— I figured I'd meet you, yeah? For my mom's sake. May she rest in peace." She bit her lip, waiting for his reaction.
"May she rest in peace," he echoed hastily. He smiled softly, "It's okay. Same here. Trust me, the original plan was not to rob you. I wanted to meet you. My mama kinda pushed me into it…Don't get me wrong— you're actually pretty cute. I'd be down." He raised an eyebrow suggestively, but the façade quickly fell off and he snorted with laughter.
She forced her own laughter down, not having quite forgiven him for trying to steal from her. She clicked her tongue, "Do you make a living like this? Stealing from girls?"
He pouted, "Actually… yeah. At first. My little problem turned out to be a gift. My family and I are pretty well off now— I mean, it did start with simply stealing. Then we sold the stuff. Eventually my dad became a merchant… things ended up okay. We don't rely on my ability anymore, but it still happens… sometimes…. I can't help myself."
Oh, so they were kinda high on the social ladder. Maybe that's what her mother had meant. Granted, Brandon's wealth came from stolen goods, but still…
Krista sighed. It was a heavy exhale that made her lower her shoulders, along with her guard. This guy had that same charisma that her uncle also possessed. They could screw anything up and eventually she'd warm up to them.
"…Now I got a better gig. Stealing secrets from rich folks, selling 'em to their political adversaries—" Once more, he clamped both hands over his mouth.
"Oh, Brandon." A smile spread over Krista's face as an idea was planted. "You also have a talky problem, hm?"
He hung his head in a kind of comical way, "Yes…"
Krista tried not to over think her idea too much, she feared it might crumble any moment. But Brandon had just shed some hope on the Elliott/Helena fiasco.
"I know we've established that we're absolutely not getting married and all…" she started, hesitant as ever. "But…"
"But we could be friends? Maybe?" Brandon smiled a lot. It suited his face. "You're really something, Krista. Usually nobody sees me taking their stuff. I'm swift as a cat you know. Stealth like a puma. Undetected like a mosquito. You have surprised me. I respect that."
"Sure, friends. Yeah. But I wanted to ask a favor— or make a deal. Whatever. It would require your… gift." Krista said. He was only half right. She'd only noticed him at her feet because of some weird gut feeling— if it hadn't been for that, she'd be purse-less right now.
He tapped his chin, as in deep in thought, "I dunno Krista. I'm trying to stay away from jail. It depends on what your favor is."
"I could pay you," she blurted out. "Well— not me exactly. The Arendelle family. If you… if you helped me— helped them, they will reward you handsomely."
Interest and greed sparked in his brown eyes, "Hmm… okay, keep going. I am intrigued."
She pressed her lips together, trying to find the right way to put it. Neither Andy nor Elliott had consented to her idea— but it was a good idea. She knew Andy would agree in a heartbeat. Elliott was more reserved, but he'd been played by Queen Astrid already— surely he'll agree that they needed to strike back?
"It would be an undercover mission. Top secret, very dangerous." She pushed herself away from the pillar she'd previously been leaning against and got close enough to Brandon's ear to whisper, "To the Southern Isles."
She stepped back and held her breath, waiting for his reaction. At first he just looked confused. But slowly his signature smile spread across his lips, "Now… now that sounds like a challenge."
"You kinda owe me for trying to rob me, you know?"
He held up his hands, "I don't know what agenda you have against Queen Astrid. Heck, I don't even know your relation to the Arendelle family. However… you have poked at a very dangerous creature. And that's my curiosity."
"Are you in?"
He winked, "I promise we'll discuss this. I'll meet you here, in a week's time, to talk some more." Brandon pulled his paperboy hat back on low over his eyes, "I have my eye on something else at the moment. If all goes well and I don't go to jail or get killed— sure! Until then," he raised a hand, "See you, Krista."
She tried to stifle her disappointment by waving back, "A week's time."
It was only after he was gone that she realized that her purse with her pickaxe was missing.
+++++ Brandon's shady, does he mean well…? You'll find out! Hahaha please don't kill me for not updating. Between writer's block and school it was impossible, and the chapter's short— but good things are coming. I think. I hope. yeah.
++++ Friendly reminder that the easiest way to reach me or ask me questions is thru my tumblr. I have a 'progress' bar on my ff net profile so u can check how many words, how the next chapter is going, etc.
+++I didn't have time to double check pls excuse any mistakes… also keep in mind that a reminder to update once in a while is fine, but a lot just stresses me out. they don't annoy me but they do get a lil irritating
++And a big thank you to laney10 for drawing fanart for this story, it was really good :) if anyone's done fanart of A Brother More Like Me or for this story I'd love to see it!
+Leave a review if u enjoyed, and I promise I'll try to update again before the year is over.
