Frozen premiered around a year ago, yay!
I'm trying to improve my writing and make it smoother, and had to rewrite this and ended up changing the plot a bit after becoming frustrated and argh why is writing so hard. I hope you enjoy it, after all the sweat. Sorry it took so long.
I think I'll give up on the strict he-she narrator format, since I want to do so many things with each perspective the chapters end up super long, taking forever. I'll break the long POVs up to shorter chapters, so there'll be several consecutive chapters with each narrator. Hopefully, this will lead to easier editing and more frequent updates. Hopefully!
IV
where a queen falls
Elsa awoke with a start just when the last of his hair turned white, and at first she couldn't remember where she was. She lay panting in the darkness, sorting the real from the not-real in her mind. The bedposts were patterned with thick hoarfrost, a result of her fervent struggle for control in the dream. She sighed and started to slowly thaw it, with her eyes closed for practice.
Nightmares had always been her frequent visitors. Just after the great thaw she'd frozen Anna solid every time she closed her eyes, seen her sister crack under her touch and start to melt, and those dreams had made her enter sleep with dread and leave it screaming. But recently, her dreams had shifted from petrifying to confusing and enigmatic.
Prince Hans had started to skulk around in them. Sometimes she could only catch glimpses of him or only sense his presence, sometimes he hid his face or stood in the shadows, but she always knew it was him.
The manner of his presence perplexed her. She ought to have dreamed of him as a threat, someone to avoid or destroy. But in her dreams Elsa was constantly chasing after him, trying to open locked doors hoping he'd be behind them or running around the empty castle with an important document she couldn't read, needing him to translate it for her. In her dreams, she needed him. Occasionally he needed her, like in the dream where his wide, fixed smile had turned out to be a garishly painted mask stuck on his face, grinning eerily. It had been suffocating him, and she'd spent the dream desperately trying to get it off. She'd awoken just when she'd smashed it, about to see the real visage underneath.
People still froze in her dreams, but now it was Prince Hans instead of Anna. He kept starting to freeze completely on his own, and that unnerved her.
Elsa peeked out from between the bed curtains, saw that it wasn't too early to get up and crawled out of bed. Trepidation frothed inside her, and she tried to calm herself with some freezing exercises for speed and accuracy. Creating tight snow chunks in the air, she tried to evaporate them before they hit the ground. She'd gotten so good at it she dared do it in her own rooms now, without risk of ruining the carpet. A few quick rounds eased her mind, as usual. She tried thawing and refreezing so fluidly a single snowball appeared to joyfully bounce in the air around the room. The feel of control hummed pleasantly through her, and the delight of play made Elsa giggle out loud. Finally, she made the snow vanish in a brilliant burst of ice.
Her spirits were lifted, but she frowned. She owed it to him, his guidance and determination, all this new positivity and confidence. Elsa was finally getting on her feet, yes, but she was heavily leaning on Prince Hans. So heavily she felt guilty about it.
He was a traitor, after all. A treacherous, murderous traitor. He probably harboured vengeance in his heart and spent his every waking moment plotting some kind of cruel revenge. The problem was that his true nature was easy to forget in his captivating, pleasant company. It's a trick, a lie, caution whispered whenever he smiled at her, his green eyes twinkling, he wants you dead, never forget it, and she knew the warning rang true, but it was so hard to remember.
In the early days of their arrangement, she'd vigilantly kept her guard up, ready for anything, be it subtle sabotage or blatant boot-licking. She'd suspected his every word, privately re-inspected every document in an attempt to catch him in something, but had found nothing amiss. He was flawlessly polite and his suggestions were excellent advice, no matter how she looked at them. He only asked questions concerning his job, all of them aimed towards helping her rule. Or control her power.
That was another thing.
No-one had ever been like that regarding the frost. He enthusiastically encouraged her to use it, not extinguish it. Elsa feared but also secretly loved her special might. It was a part of her, and denying it had always felt somehow impossible. Somehow wrong, no matter how much she wanted it all to go away. Everyone who knew always tried to make it go away, she mused, setting off a swirl of snowflakes on her palm, except for him. She stared at the complex dance of the ice, shimmering in the early gloom, lost in thought.
On their first day, she'd forgotten her gloves, and the looming embarrassment had unsettled her so much the frost had broken free again. The fear had almost claimed her - but Prince Hans had broken through it. You can learn to control it, I am sure, he'd said, and Elsa had heard an echo of her father's voice in his words, like a beacon guiding her in the storm. His voice and eyes had been full of the sweet promise of security, and she'd helplessly clung to the lifeline of his words.
She'd been so bewildered and exhausted that when the traitor had wanted her to answer the most intimate questions anyone had ever asked her, she'd simply given in. It had felt like a horrible mistake, but she didn't have it in her to resist him. And did it even matter? He'd already seen so much, might as well show him the rest, too.
Discussing her power openly with him had made her feel painfully exposed at first, like she was revealing shameful, intimate secrets. Well, I was, in a way. But instead of recoiling in horror when he learned how things really were, Prince Hans had treated it all with calm matter-of-fact practicality. No wide-eyed gasps or hand-wringing. Elsa liked it. She twirled her fingers, and the miniature snow blizzard morphed into a single clear intricate snowflake, bright and beautiful, turning soundlessly in the air.
Your gift, he'd said, not your curse.
He was good on his word. Every day, after hours of navigating the affairs of state, they spent several more learning to understand and control her power through exercise, trial and error. In the cell, they shared an enthusiasm for discovery, rejoicing in her steady progress. With rigourous practice, she finally started to gain the upper hand over the frost. She could feel herself grow more confident each day.
She also grew more accustomed to Prince Hans each day. More than that, if she was honest. It hadn't even been a fortnight, but she'd grown to like his presence somewhat, sideburns and all. Elsa squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her hand into a fist so tight her nails bit into her palm. The bright ice-flake crushed into tiny shards and vanished.
It was just another ruse. He'd be a total dimwit to openly defy her now, and he was far from dumb. No, the snake would play nice, gain her trust and then strike when she didn't expect it. Elsa knew it, knew that she was a fool to allow him within a knife's reach, knew that she should hate him more. She owed it to Anna to hate him more. Remember what he did. Remember what he is. His smiles are laced with poison. Who knew poison could feel so sweet, though? Weak, weak girl, she seethed at herself.
A dangerous, treacherous, vengeful, heartless traitor. An indispensable, handsome, pleasant, dashing steward. The man was a confounded mystery. Maybe I'm not strong enough to play against him after all. I'm dancing with fire, and I should lock him back up and throw away the key before I burn myself. But he was holding up his end of the bargain, and she'd given her word.
Elsa opened her eyes and her fist, staring at the red markings her nails had made in her skin. She would continue on the current course, she decided, but remain aware of the treacherous rocks and violent currents hiding under the calm surface. Anticipate the inevitable betrayal, but make full use of him and his ideas for now.
One of those ideas was the very reason she was so nervous this morning. She seated herself at her vanity and started to open her braid, hearing his words in her head.
"Your Majesty, we must improve your relationship with your subjects," he'd said a couple of days earlier. "The people of Arendelle may be good and kind, but also simple and superstitious, and you, If I may be so bold, ma'am, are a sorceress who almost froze them all to death on the first day of your reign. That's a disastrous first impression, one I fear will haunt you, ma'am." She'd flinched at his words, but she knew they were true.
"I've already shown them the fun side of my powers and given a public apology," she'd tried meekly.
"It was crucial that you did, but once is nowhere near enough, ma'am," he'd retorted.
"The public works – couldn't someone else, in my name -" He'd shook his head, and she'd trailed off, mid-sentence.
"Your Majesty, let me be frank. People tend to think those who hide have something to hide. You hid all your life, concealing your powers – and then devastated the entire kingdom when you finally emerged." Elsa had winced. "If you start to hide again, ma'am, people will fear that eventually you'll curse everything again, as well. Wild rumours will start to circulate about the witch-queen lurking in her castle, doing lord knows what ungodly things with her magic behind her walls, and they will turn on you." He had stared at her until she'd stopped fidgeting and had met his eyes. "That must not happen, Your Majesty."
She'd started to nod slowly to his words as he'd gone on.
"You cannot afford to be a mysterious figure any more. Make a clean break with the past, ma'am. Interact with your people, show them that you are not dangerous or vengeful. Instead, display love and forgiveness, ma'am, and they'll reflect it back."
Love and forgiveness, Elsa thought, brushing the last knots out of her hair, the great universal champions. When her hair shone, she bowed her head down and let her tresses fall over her face, covering the rest of the world behind a soft, white haze. Wouldn't forgottenness suit me better? She started to twist and attach her hair into a braid-crown bun. Her fingers weaving through her hair seemed to whisper softly to her, and it reminded her of an especially nasty part of the conversation.
"Whispers," she'd breathed, "You don't think they'll whisper about me, do you?"
"Of course they will, Your Majesty," he'd said firmly. "Some cowards may even voice their fears as insults from the crowd, but braving the stares and the mutterings is the only option you have, unfortunately. He'd made a face. "Being gawked at is part and parcel of being royalty, unpleasant as it is. But on the other hand," he'd brightened, "encountering the shouts and the stares with calm dignity will show everyone you're in control of yourself, ma'am."
"Shouts," Elsa had muttered to herself, twisting her hands, "stares."
"You'll manage fine, Your Majesty. Granted, a few more weeks of practise would do you good, but we just don't have the time. Every day that passes without an appearance from you is more ground for misgivings to grow in." He'd sighed. "Well, you've been making excellent progress, ma'am, and I'm sure the vast importance of staying in control will help you focus."
"Vast importance," she'd echoed, almost dislocating her fingers.
"Immense, ma'am," he'd said. "Should your powers get out of hand in front of the people now, they'd never trust you again." He had sipped his coffee.
Elsa had sat staring into space, engulfed by visions of a hostile crowd surrounding her, screaming insults and accusations, her feeble protests falling on deaf ears and drowned by chants of "kill the witch". She snapped out of it when Prince Hans loudly clinked his cup down on the saucer and noticed that frost had crept across the fabric of her dress so far the hem had frozen stuck on the floor.
"Don't worry, Your Majesty, you won't fail something this crucial," he'd smiled at her. She'd stared back at him in mute terror.
"I – I'm not so sure of that, Prince Hans," she'd finally sighed, loath to admit she was scared of her own subjects. "If anything goes wrong, I still might lose it, you've seen me –" The idea had struck. The Prince had indeed seen her lose control; he'd also repeatedly brought it back to her. And wasn't it the duty of her personal steward to inspect the realm, too? Elsa had bit her lip, thinking it over. Prince Hans had waited calmly, but she'd briefly felt like he was tensely anticipating something. But what? Oh, figs, I'll worry about it later, she'd thought and opened her mouth.
Well, it's later now. Elsa prepared for the day ahead, sick with the sizzling nervousness. She'd carefully selected a suitably royal outfit in the official colours, cut and decorated in the traditional Arendelle style. No magical ice dresses today. She wanted to look like the rightful ruler of the land, one of their own. Elsa dressed herself like a convict on the morning of their execution, each piece of clothing weighing on her. She attached the final clasp and looked in the mirror, at the woman who looked surprisingly like her mother, smoothing the fabric absentmindedly, wondering what Prince Hans would say, what her people would think of him following her around.
"Ah, perhaps you should come with me, since you're my steward? You will understand Arendelle's condition much better if you see it with your own eyes," she'd suggested, trying for a nonchalant tone. And most importantly, you can keep me calm to avoid disaster.
Some smugness had very briefly flickered in his expression, and Elsa had understood she'd played right into his hand. Annoyed, she'd nearly taken it back just to spite him, but that would have been childish. She had to go, she did need him there, and acknowledging that he'd played her would have felt like he'd won. She'd grit her teeth and stayed silent.
"As you say, Your Majesty," he'd purred, and like a real queen, she'd managed to resist the temptation to hurl a snow chunk into his face.
Elsa was as ready as she was ever going to be.
Prince Hans was waiting for her in the small parlour, clad in his new outfit. It was simple, suitable for a steward of common birth. He looked different without the gilt of his own princely clothes, more efficient and serious. Elsa quite liked the change.
The Prince eyed her appreciatively.
" Well, Your Majesty, you look very ready for the trial," he smiled.
"I wish I felt ready, as well," she let slip. Prince Hans raised his brow.
"Feeling nervous, ma'am?" She only shot him a withering look. He contemplated her for a while, and then walked over to the ornamental, lacquered drinks cabinet on the side of the room.
"Did you know, ma'am," he said conversationally, clinking around in it, "that we call alcohol 'liquid courage' in the Isles, due to its beneficial stamina-bolstering effect," he pulled out a bottle, opened it, sniffed at the contents and put it back, selecting another one, "and it seems you might need some extra courage today, Your Majesty". He selected a small glass of cut crystal and poured a generous-looking amount of amber liquid into it.
"It's still morning," Elsa said to his back, uncertain.
"A special morning," he returned. The last drink before the battle is a fine, time-tested tradition, ma'am." When Prince Hans turned around with a wide smile and a special beverage for her, a cold hunch slithered down her spine. But before she could refuse it, he hesitated, evaluating her frame and the glass in his hand.
"May I ask if you've had breakfast, ma'am?" When she shook her head, he gave her a reproaching look and took another glass from the cabinet, pouring over half of the liquid into it. She couldn't come up with an excuse to turn down a toast.
"For strength and victory," he grinned, raising his glass.
"Victory," she whispered. Her mouth felt dry when she raised the glass to her lips, and she felt her hand tremble. He's drinking it too, don't be silly. But he hadn't drank yet.
And then he emptied his glass in one swig, and Elsa hastened to followed suit, regretting it instantly. The drink burnt, trailing fire down her throat and smouldering in her belly. She struggled to keep from coughing. When she'd blinked her vision clear again, she saw him observing her with a quietly amused air.
"Not used to whisky, are you, Your Majesty," he smiled.
"No," she gasped, "I never had the reason to try."
"A first time for everything," he said quietly just when Kai appeared at the door, a polite indication that it was time. The dread hissed in Elsa's gut again, but it was somewhat smothered by the strange warmth of the drink. Courage, she thought. Elsa pulled herself up, feeling the Prince's eyes on her.
•••
The guards of her royal escort were waiting at attention at the castle-yard. Only three men, for an approachable appearance. Arnesen, naturally, and two others whose names she couldn't have guessed if her life depended on it. They saluted her with stiff formality and quietly acknowledged Prince Hans with an undercurrent of respect. Almost like they were his men. Elsa remembered with faint unease that they had been his men, for a few days, when he'd been left as regent. They marched out of the castle gates around her, the tramping echoing in the gateway, and Elsa felt like a convict on her last journey towards the executioner's block.
The frost swirled and jerked within her, but she carefully pushed it back. Taking deep breaths, she thought of Anna and her determined cheerfulness which constantly triumphed against impossible odds. Anna's charm had won the people over before. It could be done. She could do it as well. She had practised. It was different now. There's nothing to fear, she told herself, and almost believed it.
The people waiting for her seemed slightly wary, but they smiled and bowed and curtsied, and that was a start. Elsa addressed them, hoping they didn't notice the wavering in her voice. She explained she wanted to see how her people were faring and how the repairs were coming along. She cared deeply for her realm and her subjects and wanted to understand and rule it better.
"Mamma, is she a witch?" said a child's voice from the crowd, quickly hushed.
Elsa swallowed and carried on, explaining that here she was now, getting to know them all. Her reign had gotten off to a rocky start, but things were different now.
It all sounded like empty platitudes even to her own ears.
As Elsa spoke, she noticed the ripples of recognition spreading through the crowd. She saw the incredulous looks at Hans, the whispers behind palms. She felt a faint tingle at her fingertips. I should have worn my gloves, even if they belong in the past. She cleared her throat and hoped her voice wouldn't fail her.
"Some of you may recognise my new steward, Mr. Vestergaard," she said, and the sudden hush that fell made her voice seem stronger than before. Prince Hans smiled dazzlingly at them and gave a small, smooth bow as if everything was fine and dandy, and Elsa envied his unshakeable aplomb. "He is serving Arendelle through serving and advising me, as a part of his penance for past actions." Her mouth felt so dry. She had to struggle for her words to carry. "Many bad things have happened recently, accidental - and otherwise. Arendelle went through a trying time, a devastating crisis." And it was all my fault, and I am so sorry. "Many of us did things we shouldn't have done, out of fear, misunderstanding or ignorance. Those things were wrong, and they are deeply, deeply regretted, but they are in the past, and we must move forward, as a nation. We must work together. The path to a brighter future lies in repenting, redeeming, repairing and forgiving. And in order to earn and receive forgiveness," she implored, "we must be willing to forgive those who strive to earn it."
Forgive me, please.
They waited silently for her to continue. She finished by encouraging them all to approach her or her steward - she gestured to the Prince, exuding capability by her side - with any problems or needs.
"Don't hesitate", she urged, pushing out a smile.
They hesitated before applauding her. Elsa's legs trembled when she started the progression to view the repairs, and she was grateful she wore a full skirt.
When they were inspecting some recently completed work on a frost-damaged house, a portly man with fine clothes and a commanding presence approached her. He presented himself as Klaus Klausen Birkelund, the chairman of the League of the Ice and Timber Merchants, and Elsa understood he was important. Timber was one of Arendelle's main exports and the League wielded a great deal of influence, possibly more than the City Council itself. Mr. Birkelund was quite upset. He complained about the impending state-dictated limitations on the frostfir timber trade, lamenting that the exclusive rights and set prices Elsa had promised to the scheming pedlars of Hansa would grievously hurt the honest Arendelle tradesmen. Especially due to the crown taking such a large slice of the profits and the trade with Weselton having been completely cut.
Elsa was most sympathetic. Unfortunately, she explained, drastic measures were necessary, as the population of Arendelle desperately needed foreign produce to make it through the coming winter. Because of the disaster I unleashed, hung unsaid in the air. Nervous, Elsa pointed out that they all needed to make sacrifices, in order for the country to get back on it's feet after the recent devastation. That you brought upon us, she read in Mr. Birkelund's face. Flustered, she tried to suggest they could surely conduct trade for one year in other timbers than frostfir, but she knew it was a poor substitute. The tight scrutiny of the crowd felt oppressive, and Elsa wished more than ever Anna was there to lift the mood with her inexhaustible cheerfulness.
Mr. Birkelund remained respectfully polite, but his countenance showed severe displeasure. He inquired if the crown would compensate for their losses somehow, and Elsa could feel the frost swirl in her. People were staring, expecting a response, but she didn't know what to tell him. She sought support from Prince Hans and found him already staring at her, like he was anticipating something with baited breath. His gaze was chilling.
The plan unfolded in her mind in a clear flash, as if lit by a stroke of lightning. How could she have been so blind, so foolish? Prince Hans knew she couldn't do it, he'd meant for her to fail all along. He wanted the people to see how unstable she was, wanted her to unleash a new disaster in public, wanted them to fear her - and present himself as someone they could turn to, their saviour. She'd walked right into it.
Elsa wanted to run, to escape before it broke loose, but there was nowhere to go, there were people everywhere. Not again, not again. Wake up, she told herself, I will wake up soon, it's not really happening. She bit the insides of her cheeks until she tasted blood, closing her eyes, willing herself to wake up in her bed. It didn't work.
The frost was churning and roaring now, and she was sure the ground beneath her feet would be white, if she'd dared look down.
She'd been locked into a nightmare, the one where she was surrounded by a wild, furious mob closing around her, all witnessing her shame and monstrosity. The crowd seemed to grow in stature, and Elsa tried to speak, but no sound came out. I'm so sorry, Anna, I should never have trusted him. She tried to hold it in, tried to focus her mind and calm down, she'd practised, she had it under control, but the fear was too strong. I can't. Her hands clenched into fists and rose to her heart almost involuntarily. I can't. The people caught the gesture, or perhaps she was so far gone she chilled the air, but they noticed, they saw it, they saw. I can't. Many of them started to retreat in fear. Elsa let out a small whimper, trembling, feeling herself being sucked under, falling into the swirling, blinding maelstrom of the fear, thundering in her ears. The frost prickled her palms like needles now, and she felt its throbbing pressure rising, she was going to hurt someone.
"Look at this, please, Your Majesty," Prince Hans' calm voice said by her ear, "I must ask for your opinion."
Elsa opened her eyes and saw him hovering half over her, holding a pen and an open notebook in front of her. There was writing on the page. She stared at the hastily scrawled words for a moment before she understood them.
MAKE 10 DIFFERENT SNOWFLAKES
WITH THE PEN
He had a pleasant smile on his face, but his eyes were serious. Serious, but no longer cold.
"It's crucial, ma'am, I need your signature," he said emphatically.
"I-I see," Elsa gasped. "Of course." She took the pencil and pressed it on the page, focusing to spread the frost on the page through the pen tip, just enough to form a snowflake imprint on the page. She held her breath to get it just right, just right.
One.
The pen, the page and almost the whole book froze over. She twitched, but the Prince obscured it from the people. She thawed it and made another.
Two. Focus, Elsa. Breathe. Easy.
"It's a weighty decision, Your Majesty," Hans said lightly.
Three.
She could do this.
Four.
Different, it read. How could she vary them?
Five. Six.
Focusing on the flakes had broken the choke-hold of the fear. Her breathing levelled off.
Seven. Eight.
She was in control of herself again.
Nine. Ten.
"Yes, very crucial. You were right to show it to me, Mr. Vestergaard, thank you," she said, returning the pen to him. He grinned at her, a bit too widely. Smile. Elsa took a deep breath, forced her face into a smile and turned to face her noticeably relieved people and guards.
"I know I have done mistakes and have a lot of work ahead of me," she said, "but I'm working. I'm learning. I love my country, and I promise you I will give this realm and it's people everything I have."
This time they applauded her with enthusiasm and smiles, and Elsa felt stronger than in a long while.
Mr. Birkelund, visibly remorseful, bowed to her.
"My deepest apologies, Your Majesty," he said. "It's just that we have families and employees, Your Majesty, we need to plan - I never meant to upset Your Majesty so with my humble inquiries." She had to say something, she couldn't let the League think she'd suffer a nervous breakdown whenever faced with a difficult question.
"Not at all, Mr. Birkelund, I understand your worry. You are trying to care for your own, as am I. I," she looked at the Prince again, she didn't know what to promise, "I will look into the matter of compensation, as soon as we are over the crisis and the situation has balanced out. Your losses will be remembered." Prince Hans cleared his throat.
"If I may, ma'am?" She nodded, relieved.
"It's very unfortunate that the trade must be meddled with, but it is a vital matter of national importance and simply cannot be avoided," he stated in a loud, imposing voice, standing up tall by her side. "We - the crown would avoid it if it could, believe me. However, the situation is what it is. We must face the facts, and at present Arendelle simply will not have enough crops to sustain the population through the winter. I will not lie to you. The well-off might have the funds for foreign imports, but those whose livelihoods depend on domestic produce - that is, most of the people - would be utterly devastated. There would be severe famine, many deaths, possibly riots. The crown," he declared, letting his gaze travel across their faces, "has a duty to act in the best interest of Arendelle and to protect her people. That means taking responsibility and daring to make difficult choices when the need arises. That need is now." He looks and sounds like a true leader, Elsa thought. The crowd was under his spell, many nodding to his words.
"The crisis struck all of Arendelle, and all of Arendelle must weather the impact and pay the costs together, as a nation. The well-off will have to tolerate some temporary difficulty in order for Arendelle to rise again. Your fatherland needs you now," he told Mr. Birkelund, whose chest swelled with patriotic feeling, "is she not worth the sacrifice?"
"Yes!" he said resolutely, clearly moved. Prince Hans gave him a solemn nod.
"Your efforts will not be forgotten. I need you to keep careful record of the trade, all of it, of the amounts logged, shipped and sold, of the wages paid and all the costs and the final profits, before and after taxes. Please prepare a document including the same details for the past 2 years, as well, and make an estimation of the actual losses suffered based on those. Her Majesty shall deliberate on that and decide how and what to compensate to you, when all details are clear and the crisis has passed." That'll be at least a year and half from now, Elsa realised, trying to look majestic and merciful as all eyes again turned to her. He'd bought her a great deal of time. Mr. Birkelund bowed again, satisfied.
"Well done, Ma'am," the Prince said under his voice as soon as they were back through the castle gates. "You made it." Slightly short of breath, Elsa thought her legs were still trembling. She felt an exhausting mixture of triumph, gratitude, relief, embarrassment and annoyance. How many times must I be saved by him? She turned to Prince Hans just as he was bowing his leave, the guards waiting to escort him back to his cell, and suddenly needed to put the jumble of her emotions to words.
"Wait," she said, rubbing her face. "I - a word, if you please." He stood up, surprised. Elsa licked her lips, let her eyes roam around the courtyard and tried to think of what to say.
"I don't know what you think of me, or what you're planning. No," she cut him short when he opened his mouth, "don't. I'm not a fool, and neither are you." She stared hard at him, willing him to understand. "Despite everything, I - you are - you have been an indispensable help to me, and the realm. Truly. I would have been lost without you," she said, balling her hands to fists. "I just want to admit that," she muttered, looking at the ground. "It deserves to be acknowledged," she tried again, though it still didn't sound right. He was staring at her with his mouth slightly open, amazed.
"So. Thank you, Prince Hans." He had a strange look on his face, and for a heartbeat she thought he might almost be blushing, before he gathered himself.
"It is an honour, Queen Elsa," he said, so softly it ran down her spine like a caress, tingling on her skin, and when she looked into his eyes, she believed he meant it.
Somehow she found she couldn't let him be locked into the cell for the remainder of the day just yet. Without meaning to, she somehow invited him into the west balcony to take some light midday refreshments with her, to recuperate and maybe pass some time.
Not that she especially wanted to pass the time together, Elsa quickly added when she realised how it sounded, but rather in the same space. That they would share, that's all. It was an especially lovely day, after all, and it would be a shame to waste it indoors. She was planning to work on her embroidery, she explained, talking only a little too fast, and perhaps he could work on whatever he normally did in his own time?
He informed her politely that his time was normally spent looking at the walls of his cell.
"Ah," she said, feeling foolish. "Of course. Well, is there something you'd like to do, then? Read something, maybe? Of course, you can also look at the walls of the balcony, if you prefer, " she suggested. His mouth was twitching at at the corners when he told her that he'd be delighted to read in a space shared with her, and Elsa offered him free choice of the castle's library and quickly took her leave. She angrily changed her clothes, wondering what the deuce had gotten into her and why she couldn't have kept her mouth shut. She was sure she'd gone and turned a delightful, solitary, relaxing afternoon into a tense affair full of hidden barbs and emotional turmoil.
But once they had settled on the balcony benches, he'd given the obligatory compliments on her dress, the balcony itself, the refreshments, the weather and the view, and she'd appropriately acknowledged them all, Elsa found that his company was actually quite pleasant. He simply started to read and promptly sank into his book, an adventure tale of some sort. Elsa tried to focus on her needlework, but found herself stealing glances at him. Immersed in his story, sprawled on the bench, occasionally letting out little unwitting huffs at the prose, he looked a lot younger.
Elsa covertly kept his glass chilled all afternoon. For no reason, really. A tepid drink on a hot day was simply a miserable thing no-one should suffer.
•••
Why would anyone ever willingly subject themselves to this torture, Elsa wondered for the hundredth time when the carriage rocked violently once more, tossing her around in the cabin. She scowled at Prince Hans who sat opposite her, quite undisturbed by the shaky ride, admiring the view. Elsa was absolutely sure the infernal scoundrel was internally laughing at her undignified bouncing. When he cheerfully commented on the fine state of Arendelle's roads, she considered pushing him out of the moving carriage to admire the blasted roads from a closer proximity, but that wouldn't be very queenly.
After the success of the first appearance, she had ventured among the people with Prince Hans in tow two more times, gaining insight and confidence. As her nervousness diminished, her interest in the outside world blossomed, and she found herself fascinated by Arendelle and it's people. Their daily life and goings-on interested her deeply, though crowds still made her uneasy. Word of the Queen's personal interest had gotten around. In the last outing, a visit to the harbour and Navy headquarters, she'd encountered a veritable delegation of excited officials sloppily decked out in their finest outfits. Apparently they'd been keeping their better clothes at their offices just in case she'd happen to visit and had changed in a hurry.
Prince Hans, who was a trained naval officer, had shown such enthusiastic interest in the affairs of Arendelle's navy it had made Elsa slightly uneasy. She'd felt useless and stupid as she listened to their conversation, trying to look like she understood the military slang. It probably wasn't wise to allow a foreign traitor discuss and plan her country's defences, but what option did she have? She'd made him her steward, and as such he became more entangled with Arendelle's affairs every day, privy to every plan and detail and document.
Elsa had decided she should think of some secret weapon against him, just in case. But when she'd seen how excited he was to work in his field of expertise, she'd felt guilty of her distrust.
She'd received a new letter from Anna. It was a crumpled, blotchy thing, smelling of reindeer and lamp oil and something else, a physical manifestation of adventure and the hardships of travel. It looked like Anna might have written it in a moving cart or against someone's back, but it was a delightful letter nonetheless. They'd passed the border to Sygneland, their northern neighbour, and she was excited and happy and in love and experiencing the world, and Elsa envied her. She'd written a cheerful, light reply, where she carefully avoided mentioning anything about Prince Hans, her insecurity, or anything of real importance. Anna had promised to check the Poste Restante at Dalenes on the way back, but she might forget, and Elsa didn't want her personal secrets getting lost in the world.
The letter had had an impact on her; it made her want to travel, too. Actually, it was high time the Queen saw her realm. She'd seen the path to the north mountain and remembered some flashes from her early childhood, but had no real idea what the rest of her country was like outside the capital. A queenstour was in order. Elsa had resolved to journey to Arendelle's second largest town, Agdair, as soon as was convenient. Prince Hans, Kai, and Agdair City Council were all informed of her plans. After years of neglect, the royal carriage had been prepared for travel again. When Elsa had been settling for bed the night before the trip, wondering if she'd remembered everything, it had occurred to her that transporting Prince Hans around the realm might not be wise. What if he'd try to escape?
Well, too late. She didn't want to seem indecisive and cancel now, and besides, she was sure she could keep him in check. If he'd try anything, she would simply practice her frost projectile accuracy on him.
Elsa had climbed into the carriage in the early hours of the morning, excited and ready to experience something new.
She certainly did, sooner than she'd thought. She'd never gone through anything like the violent shaking of the carriage in her life, and she was miserably counting moments to their arrival. She glanced enviously at the guards of her convoy, who were riding along the carriage in neat formation. Elsa had never ridden a horse, but it must have been more pleasant than this. At least Prince Hans was sharing her suffering. It was daring enough to bring him along – putting him on a horse of his own would have been practically begging for him to escape. However, he looked infuriatingly serene and composed, smiling a small, private smile while looking at the landscape their carriage was trudging through. It was a lovely landscape, still shrouded in the morning mists, and Elsa would have liked to explore it. Without bouncing.
"If I may ask, will this be Your Majesty's first visit to Agdair?" She turned to look at the Prince, whose green eyes were sparkling in the soft light.
"Yes, or at least the first one I'll remember," she admitted. "I must have visited places in my infancy, but almost all of my memories are from within the castle. I'm a visitor in my own country." She looked out the window again. "I've seen pictures of it, though. And read about it. It's our second largest town, with a booming trade built around metalcraft. They export some iron and steel, but the area speciality is fine metalwork," she rattled off. "They've been a notable trading city for centuries and their coat of arms features black - I mean sable ornamental steel gates on a field argent. They also make very renowned wines and liqueurs from berries." Prince Hans grinned.
"You've done your homework admirably, ma'am." Elsa glanced at him, suspecting he was being cheeky.
"I had a lot of time, growing up," she retorted.
"If I may give Your Majesty a word of advice," he said after a short silence, "you might want to compliment things excessively."
"Excessively, you say?" He nodded.
"Cities tend to rival with one another, and people tend to be proud of their home regions, ma'am. Agdair is second only to Arendelle itself, so it will mean a lot to them if the Queen herself compliments them. The purpose of this trip is to curry favour and increase your popularity with them, is it not, Your Majesty?"
"It's an introductory visit," she corrected him, "not a performance."
"Same thing, ma'am," he said airily. Elsa harrumphed.
"I'm serious, Your Majesty," he said. "People are more willing to love those who appear to love them. Everybody loves to be complimented."
Elsa didn't answer, bouncing on in deep thought.
Oh lord, the whole town has come out.
Agdair hadn't had the honour of a royal visit in years, and it appeared to be determined to make the most of this one. The town square was bursting with people dressed in their finest, the streets were decorated with bright flags - the gates of Agdair beside the Arendelle crocus - and every surface seemed to have been recently washed or swept. The royal carriage rumbled to a halt by a red carpet laid out for her, and the people erupted into applause and cheers of "Queen Elsa!" and "Hooray!" Elsa swallowed and took a deep breath while Prince Hans smoothly excited and bowed by the carriage door, holding his hand out for her. Here we go. Smile. Elsa stepped out with a wide grin, giving the cheering crowd a delicate wave before walking up the carpet to meet the Mayor.
She smiled widely and exclaimed in delight at anything and everything. At the darling little girl shoving a beautiful bouquet at her with wide-eyed wonder (my own daughter Marthe, Mayor Jernberg told her, beaming), at the lovely town and the fascinating details of it's impressive history and famed industry and trade, so important for Arendelle's economy. She gushed about the delightful streets she was led down, the splendid produce of local craftmanship and industry she was made to look at and taste, and especially the exquisite massive, heavily ornamented twin candlesticks the Chairman of the Metalcrafter's League proudly gifted her, to commemorate the occasion of Her Majesty's visit.
She smiled until her face hurt, to cover up her nervousness about the loud crowd ogling her. It seemed to work, they flashed thrilled grins at her whenever she dared to look someone in the eye. She addressed them, speaking loudly of how happy she was to visit and how exciting it was for her to finally see Agdair and it's wonders for herself after having heard so much of it.
"Arendelle may be the capital, but Agdair is the beating heart of our industry, it's skilled, hardworking people the backbone of our fair land," she declared, and the the people cheered thunderously. Delighted, Elsa even dared to give display of her powers. She created the crocus of Arendelle out of ice at the top of the fountain on the square - and then the Iron Gates of Agdair around it, and the cheering nearly shook the earth. So far, the visit was a resounding success.
Mayor Jernberg had arranged for a small late luncheon at his own dining hall with some assorted local personages. Elsa was relieved to escape the cheers, and her steward was relieved to put down all of the gifts Her Majesty had received. The food was delicious, but it very quickly became apparent that behind their welcoming smiles, the esteemed masters of Agdair were deeply distressed.
"We cannot tell Your Majesty how honoured and pleased we are due to your visit, and that you like Agdair so much, ma'am," Mayor Jernberg smiled, "especially considering these current, challenging times." Elsa felt a brush of cold at her back.
"Challenging, Mayor?"
"Unfortunately, yes. I must regret to inform Your Majesty that the recent - disruption - of the trade relations with Weselton has struck Agdair most grievously," he said. Oh, no.
"They were our largest partner in trade, Your Majesty," cut in the Chairman of the Metalcrafters. Yes, she'd heard that before. "A significant part of our fine wares trade was with Weselton, ma'am."
"How significant, exactly?"
"Eighty-two percent, Your Majesty," he replied gravely. Elsa's mouth went dry and a weight thudded into her gut. Good god. "They run an extensive, worldwide trade in luxury items, ma'am, and our products spread to the world mainly through them."
"And in addition to the fine wares, our other exports rather relied on them well, Your Majesty," piped up the Chairman of the Mercers. " Raw materials, wines, fish, everything. All exports combined, we've lost nearly sixty percent of our trade in one blow, ma'am." All eyes were on her, waiting for her reaction.
Elsa managed to keep her composure.
"Thank you for bringing this to my attention, gentlemen," she said steadily. "It is a serious matter indeed, and something must be done." The notables of Agdair breathed out and nodded their heads in unison.
"We are very relieved to see Your Majesty cares for our woes so," Mayor Jernberg smiled widely, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "With the, well, tidings of the extraordinarily eventful start to Your Majesty's reign, and the abrupt termination of the vital trade with Weselton, especially with the crops having suffered - well, I must admit we wondered." He licked his lips. "We wondered if Your Majesty, so bravely facing the trials of the rule alone, would remember us honest workers and merchants, toiling away here in our corner of the world. We worried, if I may be so bold, ma'am." Elsa kept smiling. In her lap, where they couldn't see, she started to methodically freeze and thaw her napkin. "But it is a great relief to see that you deign to spare a care for Agdair, ma'am."
"I care greatly," she said emphatically, "about this beautiful town and it's people. I promise you, gentlemen, that Agdair's needs will be taken care of." Prince Hans shifted by her side. Too much, I promised too much.
"Then, when might we humbly expect for Your Majesty in her great wisdom to lift the ban?" The Mayor's voice was dripping with honey. They'd driven her into a corner. Prince Hans shifted again, and Elsa saw he was covertly drawing lines on the tablecloth with his finger. Ask for a list.
"The matter of Arendelle's foreign trade must be considered carefully from all sides before making any more hasty decisions," she stated. "I ask you to prepare a memorandum for the state, detailing the past and current situation of the various branches of trade, to give me, the crown, a comprehensive understanding of the matter." They stared at her.
"A memorandum, Your Majesty?"
"An extensive memorandum," she said. "Including the amounts of wares produced, all the different trading partners, what has been shipped where and how much and in what time, how the situation has now changed, the costs, the prices, everything. For all the industries." They were exchanging bewildered looks. "You see, I love Arendelle more than anything, and as the Queen, I want to thoroughly understand it's workings so that I will make the right decisions for it," she beamed. They had no choice but to agree. It would take them weeks, months, even, to complete it. She sighed and let go of her napkin.
"If you please, gentlemen, I have an additional request," Prince Hans spoke up. "Considering how disastrously the rift with Weselton has affected the trade, it seems clear that we shouldn't return to the same situation again." The Chairman of the Shipwrights opened his mouth, but the Prince spoke over him. "It puts us in a vulnerable position, giving them too much power. What if they chose to abuse it? There is no reason to place all of our eggs in one basket and be so dependent on one nation and their whims. So I would ask you, gentlemen, to come up with new ideas and possible prospects for the trade. Partners, markets, routes, and so forth." He beamed at them. "After all, few in this world know your trade better than you," he cooed, and they all returned his smile.
Elsa kept smiling and waving through the carriage window as long as there were people watching, but as soon as they were on the road she closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the trembling glass.
"That went well, ma'am," Prince Hans said. Elsa laughed bitterly.
"Well? Well? They don't trust me as a ruler and have practically been plotting a revolt, and I've driven the trade to ruin with the Weselton ban, which I can't lift without making Arendelle look politically weak. Even if I wanted to, which I don't." She threw herself back at the seat, burying her face in her hands. "I don't know what to do," she moaned.
"Stall for time, until you figure something out, ma'am," he said.
"Easy for you to say," she sighed. "People fall under your spell as soon as you open your mouth. You inspire trust and passion in their hearts. But me, I inspire suspicion and terror."
"That's not true, ma'am," he said softly. "You've awakened passion in many hearts, I'm sure." She lowered her hands to check his expression, but he seemed sincere. Well, sincere for him.
"I'm botching it all up," she muttered. "This ruling thing. I'm not sure I'm cut out for it, if I'm tough enough to hold the reins." She felt worn out, like something would break and she'd come apart at any moment. "I was born for this, it's my duty, I spent my life preparing for it - but now it's here, and I can't do it." The words tumbled out of her, the fear she'd never dared to voice. "I'm wrecking our entire royal house. Centuries of rule, generations of kings, and it all ends with me. What would my ancestors say, if they saw me?" Her voice trembled.
"You're doing very well in a difficult situation, Your Majesty," he said gently. "You have the head for the rule, once you'll get the hang of it. Your forefathers would be proud of you."
Elsa suddenly realised the route was passing relatively close to a location she'd long meant to see. She called to the guards, giving them the new instructions to where she wanted to go.
"We'll make a short detour," she replied to Prince Hans' questioning expression. "I want to visit my parents."
•••
She ordered the convoy to stop when they were still a good distance from their destination. Elsa felt it was more appropriate to go on foot. Besides, she meant to go alone; she had a hunch seeing her parent's graves would deeply unsettle her, and she didn't want her men to see her like that. The commander of the convoy, the young Officer Something-sen wouldn't hear of it, however. Nervous with the responsibility of command, afraid of the possibility of mistakes, he absolutely refused to let Her Majesty go alone and unprotected.
"It won't do, Your Majesty," he stammered with a white face, fearful of her wrath. "I have my orders." He pursed his lips together so hard they disappeared, looking like he expected to be frozen solid any moment.
Elsa took pity on him and stated that Prince Hans would accompany her. He, at least, wouldn't be alarmed by the frost breaking loose. Officer Whatshisname-sen looked like he was about to protest, but Prince Hans anticipated him.
"It's fine, Christensen, I'm neither foolish nor brave enough to try anything, and any other threats should be afraid of her Majesty, not the other way around." Christensen agreed to that, the tension vanished and the men smiled. Elsa felt vaguely like the butt of some joke. Annoyed at them all for being on better terms with the traitor than her, annoyed at her own fragile sensitivity, she strode off without further dallying. Prince Hans followed her without a word.
She picked some wildflowers from the side of the path on the way up, weariness settling on her shoulders. She felt guilty for not having come earlier. She felt guilty for not having been there at the funeral, like a good daughter would have done. She felt suffocatingly guilty about a great deal of things. With heavy heart and feet, she followed the climbing path, meandering through the increasingly sparse greenery. The path eventually made a final curve around a boulder, and suddenly the grassy, wide cliff opened in front of her, the twin gravestones solidly defying in the wind, the vast valley stretching behind them.
Elsa stood still for a moment, clutching her wildflowers, taking in the scene, gathering herself. She was aware of Prince Hans standing behind her, and wished he hadn't come.
"Can you-"
"Of course, Ma'am." His voice was soft.
Elsa approached her parents' graves alone. Drawing shuddering breaths, she managed to divide her flowers into two pitiful bouquets and place them in front of each stone before she started to sob. She caressed the runes of her parent's names, her fingers trailing clear ice across the surface. She missed them so much. Her longing was a black, sharply jagged boulder in her chest, crushing her, cutting her throat with each breath. Somehow, touching the gravestones made their deaths more real, more inescapable. They hadn't just gone away, they were truly dead and never coming back, and Elsa felt like a little girl again, lost and frightened and powerless. The tears on her face froze on her fingers when she tried to wipe her eyes. She stroked the coarse surface of her father's gravestone, pressing her face to it. A sudden memory from her childhood alighted her mind, brilliant and searing; her father's unshaved, stubbly cheek on the night when she'd been so frightened of the raging thunderstorm her frost had burst out and frozen the sheets. She'd crawled to her parent's bed, whimpering with terror, nesting between them. Her father had held her tight and told her that it was all right and there was nothing to fear, she was his little girl. Elsa remembered the rumble of his comforting voice, the scrape of his stubbly cheek against her temple, the feel of utter security she would never feel again in this world. She crumpled on the ground with a wail of pain and sheer, desperate longing.
"Please," she sobbed, "please don't leave me, please don't be gone, Pappa, Mamma, please, no."
The sorrow washed over her in an overpowering wave that carried her away, and she surrendered to it, her body shaking from the force of the cry she had shut out for so long. She wept long, as the frost surged from her in pulses. When the worst of the grief had passed through her and she'd dried her eyes, she saw the ground and the stones were all covered with tortured, sharp icicles, so huge they blocked her from the outside world. Prince Hans would be waiting for her behind her wall of frozen grief. Exhausted and raw, she wondered if she could simply seal herself away from the world, raise the wall higher instead of thawing it, stay here by her parent's side until death claimed her. It was impossible, of course. She was bound by her duty.
"The wind is cruel up here," he said when she emerged, holding out his handkerchief. Even that small gesture of sympathy was almost more than she could bear. Elsa felt a distant longing to curl up to a small ball and be held by him, to cry against his wide shoulders. Confused, she wiped her face instead. Prince Hans was looking past her, at the gravestones and the emptiness beyond.
"My condolences," he murmured, nothing more, and she was grateful for his silence.
On their way back it occurred to her that she must have looked horrible, with puffy eyes, bloated nose and tear-striped cheeks. They'd heard the gurgle of water on the way, and Elsa decided to wash her face.
She had never seen a stream before. It was mesmerising, the water looking like trembling, clear glass, rippling gently. She splashed her face, and the water was so cold it cut like a knife through the stuffy, bloated haze she was in, clearing her thoughts. Prince Hans seemed impatient and tense, but Elsa didn't want to return just yet, marvelling at the stream. Then she recognised something in this shuffling and remembered that they'd gone through the day, eating and drinking, without the prince having been allowed any private time. There was no way for her to address the matter with decency, though, and he couldn't bring it up, either. Decorum really is such a bother sometimes, she thought, trying to think of a way around the problem. Finally she simply sent him off into the woods alone to fetch her 'some flowers, or a pretty twig', and to take his time by all means. He looked relieved and quickly disappeared into the woods.
She stood still, fascinated by the water, it's tinkling the only sound in the silence. It had some soothing, almost magical quality. She crouched down and put her hand in the clear stream again, enjoying the unfamiliar sensation of the cold water flowing through her fingers. Then a most improper urge popped in her head. But she was alone, so what did propriety matter? Elsa kicked off her shoes, gathered her skirts in her grip and carefully stepped into the water.
The sensation made her gasp. The water was cold and sharp, it didn't hurt her but she felt it. She sighed at the feel of the rushing water pushing against her, almost like the touch of a living being, trying to pull her somewhere else with it.
The water flowed on past her legs, fast and still at the same time. Elsa suddenly felt the rush of time and life flowing past her as well, endlessly and unstoppably roaring ever forward despite her standing in one place, motionless, in the middle of it. The stream of time, she thought. It was washing her sadness away, taking the weight with it to the irretrievable past. She thought that the same stream must have been tinkling there for centuries, millennia, even, determinedly carving it's way into the stone. It had been tirelessly streaming there, minding it's own business, while kingdoms had been built and lost, and her parents, and their parents, and theirs, and all of the kings in her long bloodline had each sat on the Arendelle throne in their turn, before passing on into the great darkness so their offspring could mourn them and start their own reign. And now it's my turn. It was oddly comforting, and she stood in the water, allowing her grief to be rinsed from her.
She waded slowly a little deeper and delighted in the new sensation. A nice-looking big stone in the middle of the stream had some green wavy things growing on it, like underwater grass flowing in an unseen wind. The water made the light dance under the surface, and the glow reminded her of Hans' eyes. It looked soft, and Elsa wanted to feel it between her toes. She hitched her skirts higher and took a large stride to reach it, but her footing slipped away as if the stone was soaped and she crashed under the surface with a shriek.
The impact knocked the entire world bright, blinding white, shocking all of her senses useless. The fierce embrace of the stream held her so tight she couldn't breathe, roared around her so that she didn't know where or how she was. She flailed, and hit her hands on something cold, it was the bottom of the stream-bed, but light was coming from inside the earth, and she didn't understand anything. I'm dying, she thought as the water kissed her with lips so cold it burnt her all over. Elsa felt weightless and calm. The stream was taking her with it through time, to be a part of the past and no longer the present, and she stopped struggling.
And then something crashed around her and she was violently torn up into the blinding brightness.
Elsa gasped for air, air and life, grasping onto whatever she could. Through her coughing and spluttering she heard someone call her name. When she wiped the water from her eyes, she found herself inches from Prince Hans' wide-eyed face, distressed and alarmed. He was standing in the stream, carrying her in his arms. As Elsa's breath returned and steadied, her heart started beating faster. She hadn't been lifted since her early childhood, and the weightlessness was heady. Transfixed, she stared into his golden-green eyes, all of her coherent thoughts beyond her reach, an unfamiliar, burning sensation spreading in her, flowing in her veins, filling her with fire. They looked at each other, the only sounds their heavy breathing and the innocent rippling of the water.
I died. I died, and emerged anew, and the world is different.
"Are you all right?" His intense gaze moved over her, and Elsa became acutely aware of how wretched and sodden and utterly undignified she must have looked.
"Yes," she breathed. "The stone was soaped," she said, to excuse her clumsiness. He looked astonished.
"Soaped?"
"Really slippery, even though it was grassy," she explained. His mouth twitched.
"That's algae. It makes underwater surfaces slimy and treacherous," he said, seriously, but she heard laughter in his tone.
"Seaweed," she breathed, blushing, "I know what that is." Oh, he was going to think she was an idiot. "I've just never, I didn't, at a stream, ah. That's misleading! If it's called seaweed, it should grow in the sea. Why isn't it called waterweed?" He grinned widely at that, his eyes sparkling and reflecting the deep green of the foliage. The daylight filtering through the leaves shone from behind him so that his red hair seemed to be aflame. He looked so handsome Elsa suspected briefly that maybe he wasn't Prince Hans at all, but an ancient minor god of the forest who'd copied his form, come to steal her away to the other-world like in the old stories.
Suddenly he went serious.
"You're bleeding," he said. Confused, Elsa touched a throbbing spot on her head and saw blood on her fingers. Before she could tell him it was nothing, he'd waded to the stream-side. She could feel his body through their wet clothes, could feel his muscles move when he searched for solid footing. It was all utterly improper.
"It's fine, I'm fine," she insisted, flustered, when he strode on the grass. "Please, just put me doOOOWW!" Her ankle failed her with a painful sharpness, and a blast of ice froze the grass from where her foot touched it. It was as if she'd stepped on a knife. He caught her again before she could crumple to the ground. Prince Hans laid her carefully on the grass and pulled out a fresh handkerchief, inspecting the wound on her head.
"Hold this against your head, Your Majesty, please," he said. "Do you feel faint?" She shook her head gingerly, her head and foot both throbbing painfully. "Do you know where we are?"
"Where?" He nodded. "Uh, close to the path that leads to my parent's graves, just outside Arendelle?"
"Mhm. And how did we end up here?"
"Well, you conspired to murder me and my sister through outrageous treachery, but in my infinite mercifulness I offered you a deal and you became my steward instead. We've been ruling the realm, plotting the demise of Weaseltown, persuading my people to see the brighter side of sorcery and have just returned from Agdair, where I made my first official royal visit as Queen." She peered at him. "Will you ask for my name next? It's Elsa Kristina Solveig Agdarsdotter of House Frossenskjold-Galte of Arendelle, just in case." He smirked.
"I'm relieved to see your wit and spirit remain as sharp and focused as ever, Your Majesty," he said. "I dread to think what poor Christensen would have done had I returned you to his charge as mentally lame." It was a frightening notion.
"May I check your ankle, ma'am?" She nodded timidly. He took her bare foot in his hand and moved it gently. Elsa hissed in pain.
"Hm. Can you wiggle your foot, just a bit?" She wiggled. "Good. It's only sprained, not broken." He started to untie his cravat.
"What are you doing?"
"Binding your foot, ma'am. Compression," he explained, starting to bandage her ankle with it, "as well as cold help the healing." He looked up at her mischievously. "Luckily, keeping it cold will be easy in this case."
When he bent back down, his now loose shirt collar drooped down, exposing his throat and some of his chest. It felt intimate and indecent. Gentlemen weren't supposed to brazenly flash their chests at ladies like that, she thought, but studied the skin she glimpsed anyway. She'd never seen so much of the male body, and was determined to observe as much of him as she could, no matter how unladylike her interest was.
"I didn't know you had medical abilities, too," she said, remarking that he appeared to have some reddish hairs growing on his chest.
"A navy officer needs all sorts of abilities, Your Majesty. A medic isn't always available. My brother Hafleikr, for example, was once saved by his adjutant's impressive sewing skills, so you can never know what will come in handy," he said cheerfully.
"Sewing skills?"
"Yes, ma'am." He tightened the knot. "He sewed shut a fatal wound before my brother bled dry. Hafleikr gave me a sewing set that Christmas and told me I'd better learn to patch myself up, too, since I was to start at the Royal Naval Academy next year." He straightened himself, removing his coat.
"And did you?"
"Did what, ma'am?" He wrapped his coat around her. Though slightly wet, it was warm and smelled faintly of him, a masculine mix of different, familiar and foreign smells.
I don't need it, the cold doesn't bother me, she should have said, but didn't.
"Learn to patch yourself up?"
"Oh yes," he smiled at her. His shirt and vest were still damp. "I learned very well. Let me look at your wound, Your Majesty."
When he touched her head, Elsa felt suddenly very shy. She wasn't used to being in close proximity with other people, and the Prince was very close. She listened to his breathing, and when he spoke, she heard his voice rumble in his chest.
"It's just a scratch, luckily. It's already stopped bleeding." He pulled back. "We should return. With your permission, I'll carry you, ma'am." Elsa blushed.
"You don't have to do that!"
"I believe I do, Your Majesty. You can't walk. I'm quite sure that should I show up alone, talking of an accident that befell you, Christensen will field-execute me for regicide first and ask for details second. And truthfully, ma'am, I'm not comfortable leaving an injured woman behind on her own, magical powers or not," he said sternly.
You don't need to, I can create a snowman to carry me, she should have said, but didn't.
He hoisted her up as if she weighed nothing and started back on a brisk pace. Elsa bounced along on his back, ravaged by brutally intense new emotions and feelings. She couldn't remember when last she'd been in such long, intense bodily contact with anyone, and it felt new and weird and enormous to be so close to another. She had to clench her legs and arms around his torso in a most risqué manner to stay on, while sitting on his hands, it was an almost lewd. The path was steep, and he had to take care to keep his balance. With every step he took, Elsa felt his body work against her thighs and abdomen. Her heart was pounding wildly, and her skin felt more sensitive than usual, resonating with every curious new sensation. Her position had her face half-buried in his neck, breathing in his scent; combined with his coat, she felt enveloped by him. He smelled of soap and leather and some fragrance, and a tiny bit of sweat. It made her feel strangely warm and safe. Elsa had never in her life been so keenly aware of someone else's physicality, and it was bewildering.
She was till wet from the stream, the dampness seeping from her to him, and she wondered if he felt uncomfortable to him, if she was ruining his clothes. It was all so horribly disgraceful. She'd made herself look like a clumsy, rambling half-wit, feeble of mind and body. Elsa pressed her forehead into his neck and sighed with humiliation.
"Are you in pain, Your Majesty?" She could feel his voice, vibrating in him as he spoke. The sensation was extraordinary, sending warm tendrils snaking around her lower body.
"No," she breathed, "not at all." She tried to think of something to say, to take her mind off his physique. "I, I'm sorry for ruining your clothes." He snorted.
"It's just water, ma'am, they'll dry."
"At least I'm more wet than you," she sighed. He made a huffing noise.
"How did you fall in, ma'am, if I may ask? Your shoes were still on the bank."
"I wanted to feel the water," she mumbled. "So I waded in, just a bit. And then I wanted to stand on the rock, to feel that, too. I didn't realise it would be so slippery." Elsa sighed again, feeling foolish and embarrassed.
"And you hit your head when you fell," he said, and froze the water out of shock. I see."
"What?"
She felt him startle slightly, but when he spoke, his voice was nonchalant.
"Your Majesty, you froze the surface of the stream and a good part of the stream-banks when you went under. You don't remember that?"
"No. Everything went white, and I didn't know which way was up." They were quiet for a few steps. Elsa was mortified. "Well then, I almost drowned myself in a shallow stream by freezing myself under the ice. Rather stupid, no?"
"Not at all, Your Majesty. Accidents happen to the best of us," he said. "Why, one of my uncles died a few years back by slipping in his bathtub, in his own bedroom. It's quite tricky to get your head underwater in a tub like that, but he managed by stepping out too briskly, slipping and falling back in headfirst, knocking himself unconscious in the process. Ironically he'd specifically demanded for the floors to be polished that day, so the wax would shield the floorboards. I'd say that's a lot stupider than slipping in pursuit of a new experience, ma'am."
"That's horrible," she gasped. "Poor man!"
"Yes, it's very tragic," he said lightly," but at least he had the graciousness to amass a great wealth and then die without heirs, leaving everything to our family. It caused great rejoicing among my brothers, who now had a couple of properties more to divide. So you see, Your Majesty, some good came out of his untimely demise, after all. He provided two poor little princes with homes of their very own." Elsa tried to stifle an improper giggle.
"You're terrible," she huffed. "How can you laugh at the death of your own relative?"
"Oh, he deserved it, believe me," he said cheerily.
"How so?"
"I can't tell you, Your Majesty," he said, and she could swear the infernal cad was teasing her, "it's unsuitable for the ears of a lady."
"Well, too bad, as Your Majesty orders you to tell her."
"He showed rather too much unwanted interest in his female staff, ma'am. I understand the entire household was glad to see him go. The servants raided his wine cellar while celebrating his passing before notifying the family. My brothers Helge and Henning, the fourth and fifth in line, grieved the loss of his choice wines much more than the man himself."
Elsa was speechless. What a family. She had always wished she had more relatives, but she was starting to understand mutual blood didn't guarantee good relations. She sighed again, deeply, inhaling his comforting scent.
"He left behind a title, too," Prince Hans continued wistfully. "I must admit, he really lived up to it." He was baiting her, but Elsa couldn't resist.
"What title was that, pray tell?"
"The Earldom of Bath," he said solemnly.
Elsa snorted and erupted in a fit of giggling into his shirt collar. It grew uncontrollable, and almost turned to crying when the jumble of emotions poured out of her; but then it subsided, leaving her exhausted but feeling significantly better, relaxing against him.
"Not really," she said after some time.
"No, ma'am, not really," he replied, with a definite smile in his voice.
She lost track of time in the steady rhythm of his stride, and was surprised and a little disappointed at how soon Officer Christensen's alarmed shout signalled their return to the convoy. Christensen was plagued with guilt, blaming himself for ever allowing Her Majesty to wander off without a proper guard, and Prince Hans for somehow being behind the accident. Utterly wretched, he seemed about to dress in a burlap sack, sprinkle ashes on himself and crawl remorsefully through the city as penance for neglecting his duties so, but Elsa managed to calm him down.
"You obeyed my orders, as you should. And besides, it was at your insistence I brought Pri- Mr. Vestergaard along, and he turned out to be my saviour," she comforted him. "Without him, I'd still be sitting alone in the woods, with a sprained ankle," she lied. Prince Hans only smiled good-naturedly and told Christensen he was a good man and right to be suspicious, considering everything, when he mumbled his humblest apologies. He almost called him Your Highness, Elsa noted.
When the carriage was once again torturously shaking towards Arendelle, Elsa took stock of the day. She oozed dampness to some soldier's coat spread under her as she gazed at her realm, slowly passing past the window. From the corner of her eye, she peeked at Prince Hans, who sat with his arms folded, apparently deep in thought, looking obscenely handsome in his damp shirt and vest in the golden evening light. Elsa was annoyed with him for being so damnably complex. She wished she could see into his head. She wished she could figure him out, know where he stood, know what to think of him. She was tired of feeling conflicted.
She looked absent-mindedly at the twin candlesticks of the fine Agdair make, trembling along on the seat next to the Prince.
"Your brother," she said, "the one who got patched up. How is he now? Did he inherit one of your uncle's houses?"
"Hafleikr? No, Your Majesty, he's carving an illustrious career for himself in our Royal Navy, he's been made a Commodore since then. He's at sea so much he simply stays at his room at Elsingborg Palace when he's ashore, which isn't often."
Elsa studied him for a while.
"You like him," she decided. He glanced at her, surprised.
"Well, he is my dear brother, ma'am."
"No," she said. "You don't like all of your brothers." His brow twitched. "You don't like most of them, Prince Hans. But you do like this Hafleikr, who told you to learn to take care of yourself." He looked at her silently, with yet another expression she couldn't decipher at all.
"Indeed I do, ma'am. You're very perspective. He's an admirable man, worthy of respect."
"Unlike you, then, and apparently the rest of your family," she quipped, slightly frustrated with him.
He smiled back at her in such a way Elsa wanted to take back her words, wanted to apologise, but that would have been ridiculous, and she stayed silent. He deserves it, she thought, staring determinedly out of the window, his coat and scent still embracing her, he's a vile traitor. But the guilty feeling remained with her for the rest of the journey.
She returned his coat to him before stepping out of the carriage. Wearing his clothes would have made it all seem scandalous, like she'd been engaging in some salacious, intimate affair with him. When he bowed his goodbyes to her, he had retreated back behind his impersonal politeness and Elsa wondered if the fleeting, intimate familiarity between them had ever actually existed, or if she had imagined it all.
Perhaps I'm dreaming, she thought when the guards were carrying her towards her chambers through the candle-lit halls, maybe the whole day has been a dream and I will wake up soon, and all will be like it was before.
–
* On Elsa's name: in the Nordic countries, before everyone had proper family names, people used patronyms - their father's name combined with -son or -daughter. Someone might be called Petter Svensson and if they named their son after their father, the son would be Sven Pettersson.
As many families had the habit of always naming the oldest boy, the heir, with the same name, over time there patronyms became actual family names like Andersson or Magnusson - or Arnesen or Christensen. Even when people started to use family names that no longer depended on the first name of your dad, the tradition of "child of father" -names was continued in the middle names.
So one of Elsa's names, Agdarsdotter - daughter of Agdar - is a nod to this tradition.