But there was nowhere to run to, really, and Anna soon came to her senses. If she were doomed to be a failure as queen, then the least she could do was save Arendelle from its debts and give the country a king who would know how to do a better job than she would.
And after all, she had to marry someone. She'd just thought … well, she thought she'd have more time. And more choice.
But at least they'd said he was handsome?
Although the betrothal wasn't officially announced, the gossip spread like wildfire through the population of Arendelle, bored and desperate for something to be happy about after several months of winter and mourning for the king. The change in the mood could be felt almost at once, as preparations for the Winter Ball turned the castle and the surrounding countryside upside down. The ball was a large event during any normal year, and now that it was rumored to be the Crown Princess' engagement party as well, it was shaping up to be the social event of the decade. So although the portraits remained covered and the courtiers continued to wear black and speak to Anna and her mother in soft, considerate voices, behind closed doors a happy buzz of anticipation had already sprung up.
Anna had to admit, she was grateful for the change, even if the reason behind it still terrified her. She had always loved a party - why should this one be any different, just because it signalled the end of whatever independence she might ever have had?
Ugh. On second thought, maybe she shouldn't answer that.
The early snow that autumn had damaged many of the crops, and Arendelle was poorly equipped to throw the kind of party that the occasion demanded. But soon after the message had been sent inviting Prince Hans to Arendelle (suspiciously quickly, in fact, given that it should have taken a week for the message even to be delivered), a trade ship from the Southern Isles, packed from stem to stern with all manner of goods. Much of it was practical - staple grains, sacks of coal, sturdy tools, and other items that were immediately distributed to the Arendelle peasantry, to much rejoicing. But there were also luxury items for the palace, no doubt sent by the Southern Isles to make sure that Arendelle did not embarrass her future king by its relative poverty. Casks of the finest wines and liquors, bags of sugar and coffee, fragrant spices and exotic fruits, yards of fine linen, beautiful wax tapers, - everything Arendelle needed to give itself and its Princess away in style.
And, finally, there was a special trunk marked with Anna's name on it.
When this last item was delivered up from the docks to the palace, several of the housemaids clustered around to watch her open it.
"Oooh, what do you suppose he sent?"
"Precious pearls! The Southern Isles are rich!"
"I'll bet it's an entire trunk full of love letters," giggled one girl.
"Now now, let's not be foolish," said Gerda, the housekeeper. "Open it, your Highness, so these silly hens can satisfy their curiosity and get back to work."
Anna stared at the trunk, somehow reluctant to lift the lid. She was grateful, of course, for the gifts that would get Arendelle through the winter. And the luxury items for the palace were lovely too - Anna had relished having sugar in her tea that morning, for the first time in ages. But whatever was in the trunk would be engagement gifts for her, rather than for her country.
It made it more real, somehow, that she was more or less selling herself in exchange for these goods.
Which was a ridiculous compunction to have. It wasn't as though she could make herself only be half-betrothed, by accepting the gifts for Arendelle and rejecting the ones for herself. Mentally giving herself a shake, Anna pushed back the lid of the trunk and began lifting out the items within and holding them up for the others to see.
Each new gift drew a gasp of delight from the girls clustered around. Prince Hans had been absurdly generous. There was a long string of the beautiful pearls for which the Southern Isles were famous; little crystal flasks of perfume, smelling of faraway lands where flowers grew all year; a beautifully bound and illuminated book of poems; the fur of some exotic animal, thick and striped and so enormous that Anna could hardly imagine the size of the beast it must have come from; a bolt of green silk which gleamed softly in the light and felt like spring sunshine against Anna's fingers, it was so soft and warm.
And at the very bottom, a note, addressed to Anna.
No amount of begging from the housemaids could get Anna to read it out loud while they were there. At last Gerda shooed them all out of the room, taking the silk with her, to be immediately made up into a dress for Anna for the Christmas ball. Anna caught the hint of a knowing smile on housekeeper's face as she pulled the door shut behind her, saying to Anna "Enjoy your letter, your Highness."
Anna tucked herself up in a window seat and examined the letter. It was formally addressed to Her Highness the Princess Anna Agneta Ottilia Maria Fredericka of Arendelle (he'd missed Brunnhilde, but Anna didn't mind, it was her least favorite of her ridiculous string of names).
With a clench of nervous anticipation in her stomach, Anna broke the seal.
Your Highness,
Forgive me for addressing you directly, when we have yet to meet face-to-face. But I felt that without a personal note, these humble gifts would be appear to be only so much dross and bribery. I wish that they were finer - only the best for the Princess of a country I hold in such high esteem - but I beg that you will accept them anyway, as a token of my regard and a symbol of my great joy at our approaching meeting. I have heard such tales of your loveliness, your kindness, and your devotion to your country, that I feel we must already know one another. I am eager to make it so. Please think well of me, despite the awkward timing and abrupt nature of these proceedings, and know that I will do anything in my power to bring honor and bounty both to Arendelle and to you.
Your humble servant,
Prince Hans of the Southern Isles
Well. Not exactly a love letter? And Anna couldn't help thinking he was laying it on a little thick.
But the mention of the 'awkward timing and abrupt nature of the proceedings' was somehow… reassuring? She hadn't expected him to think about how she might feel, being married to a stranger so soon after her father's death, with no choice in the matter.
Maybe he was sensitive. Maybe he was kind. Maybe he would truly care for her, and she would grow to love him, and they would be gloriously happy together.
Then again, maybe he was a stilted, stuck-up, over-formal, spoiled Southerner and she would have to restrain herself from putting frogs in his bed and pepper in his tea.
Only time would tell.