Anna took another long sweeping gaze over her bedroom. She would miss this place. Sure, the castle had been a little lonely ever since her father shut the gates; and sure, Anna really only had suits of armor and the paintings to talk to, but she would miss them—the suits and paintings were just right pals.
"You don't have to do this, Anna," the King said again, for what Anna thought must have been the thousandth time. Well, admittedly she had lost count after the first ten or so, but she probably wasn't even exaggerating much. While he busied himself moving her clothes out of her luggage case, she continued throwing everything she could find in there.
"I think I kind of do," Anna said. She held up two dresses and swished them back and forth, placing one against her body and looking down with one eye squinted shut. Did white make her look fat? "Which one looks better. . . ?"
"Anna, Elsa has made it clear that you're under no actual obligation to obey," the King said, but even someone as na¨ıve as Anna knew herself to be could tell that was a boldfaced lie. As though what Elsa called a conquered kingdom could refuse anything. "You don't have to leave if you don't want to. There's no need for you to—"
"You know what? I'll just take them both," Anna mumbled, and she threw them in a pile into the suitcase. When she heard her father groan, she perked up and grinned.
"I'll be fine." The King shook his head and grasped Anna's arm just as she prepared to turn back to her overly-large closet. She looked back and for the first time saw clearly the lines of worry creased at the edges of his eyes and mouth. "Anna, please."
Anna heard her father's voice shake with desperation, and for a short moment she wavered. Ever since her mother died of illness, Anna was all that the King had left, and he had even closed the castle gates to make sure she would never get hurt; but she also knew this was the only way she could ease his burden. If she wasn't here, he wouldn't have to divide his attention between her and the kingdom, like he had been forced to all his life. If she wasn't here, everyone would be better off. And Elsa had agreed to be more lenient if Anna left with her. Somehow, Anna trusted she would keep her promise.
"I'll be fine," Anna said again, gently, and as she laid her hand over her father's she tried to convey everything she couldn't say aloud. You don't have to take care of me anymore. Let me do this for you.
Slowly, the King nodded. "If that is your wish, I won't stop you."
Smiling when she saw her father exhale a slow breath, Anna continued packing. All the while, she entertained thoughts of revolution, and triumph, and all those types of dramatic things. "Who knows? Maybe I'll have a chance to, I don't know, find some way to bring them down from the inside—"
"I know you like those types of stories, but please do not follow the example of Joan," the King said crossly. "I only want you to keep yourself safe, and that's all I will ever ask of you."
"Shouldn't have gotten those paintings, Pappa," Anna said, making what she thought was an imperceptible shrug of her shoulders. No promises. "Good 'ol Joan is my idol."
"I saw that, Anna."
"I know," Anna said, laughing, because her father could always tell what she was thinking and she had no misconceptions about that fact; but then her momentary thrill slowly faded and her voice lowered. "You. . . always know me best." The King said nothing in response. Anna stopped packing, hands coming to a halt as she found herself gripping the fabric of her dress so tightly even her knuckles turned white.
She would miss the suits of armor, she would miss the paintings, but most of all, even if she tried not to think about it, she knew she would miss her father. And all of her bravado couldn't hide that anymore, so Anna finally threw down her things and turned to hug him tightly for one last time.
"I'll miss you," Anna said, burying her face into his shoulder. All her life her father had been the one constant. "I'll really, really miss you, Pappa."
All that the King managed to say was a choked, "Take care of yourself, Anna."
Anna wondered if she really could.
…
After a long night of tossing and turning before finally falling into a fitful sleep, Anna had been dragged out of it almost as soon as she started sleeping in the first place. Guards escorted Anna to the docks first thing in the morning, a time which when she was younger she had called when the sky was awake, or in other words, an ungodly hour for her now.
Not to say it wasn't pretty seeing the sun rise, orange and purple hues reflected over the calm waters of Arendelle and transforming abstract silhouettes into distinct moored ships.
It only made Anna waver more in her decision, and for a moment Anna hadn't been sure if she should even continue looking for fear she would abandon her duty. Arendelle was her home, and it always would be. She would give anything to be able to stay here forever. Even the slight rays of light filtering in were beautiful to Anna. On the way here she had kept her eyes wide open, trying to take in the view of the city bathed in light, trying to forever engrave it into her memory as though she could drink her fill of it before leaving forever.
She couldn't.
Being handed off like some sort of stock good, Anna found herself pushed towards a lightly armored man standing in front of a frigate with the ramp down. He took one look at the bag in her hand and, with an ugly sneer, reached out to snatch it.
"Hey! Give that back!" Anna tugged hard on her suitcase trying to get it back, but the smelly, bearded soldier pulled harder than she ever could with her spindly arms. Before she knew it, all of her carefully assembled (hastily thrown together) luggage had been tossed into the newly unfrozen fjord. She turned to him in accusation, but she had no authority anymore the one time she ever tried to exercise it.
"You really think this is some sort of vacation?" Already beady eyes narrowed further, and Anna deemed him Piggy in her head.
"Your Queen Elsa said that I could bring anything I required," Anna huffed. She watched as her suitcase slowly sank to the depths of the fjord, taking all of her worldly possessions with it. Her last comfort had been taken from her. Anna took a deep breath and willed herself to move on. She couldn't let herself be beaten here. She had to get through this.
Piggy's hoarse laugh brought her back to the unfortunately uglier present, but at least it snapped her out of her growing anxiety. "Elsa? Elsa is only Regent, not Queen." Anna grimaced as a speckle of spit landed on her cheek. She discretely wiped it away while he laughed again.
"Is there even a difference?" Anna asked, hardly believing the complete, practically tangible disrespect she heard. Everyone in Arendelle certainly feared Elsa, but Piggy of all people could speak like this? Come on, he looked like he had the brains of a rock.
"Much," Piggy said. Before Anna could say more, he jabbed her with the blunt end of his spear, nearly sending her careening off the docks and into the water. "Now enough talk. Get on the ship."
Anna looked up at the looming frigate, and then a distance away to the glittering ice-ship looking even more beautiful with the light of sunrise dancing off its surface. Strangely enough, it looked different, shrunken down and less imposing, but Anna thought it only looked better that way. Less imperious and more like the work of art it really was. But, Anna realized with a sour feeling, the artist was. . .
"Not on that one?" Anna still couldn't help asking. Piggy scowled. "Only Elsa rides that one, and she wouldn't let anyone else on her cursed ship even if there was someone stupid enough to get on it. Now get moving."
Another sharp smack to her back, and Anna bit her lip to stop herself from groaning. It really hurt, especially for someone as pampered as she had been up until now. She could feel the bruises forming already on her delicate skin, but she still turned to give Piggy a dark glare before all but sprinting up the ramp and onto the frigate.
It was rather busy, Anna thought, and she watched as teams of men scrambled around getting supplies ready for the voyage. Where the ships even came from and what exactly they were doing she had no idea, since Elsa had pretty much singlehandedly won the war anyway. Anna looked on at the utter pandemonium of workmen operating cranes to pull crates of something up onto the frigate, and then others lugging the crates around, resembling for all the world a sweatshop of some sort.
As Anna watched, a pulley a good distance away screeched loudly; something had jammed in the lever, and the blond boy operating it didn't react quickly enough. The crate still hanging too high up fell out and slammed onto the ship. With a loud snap it split apart to spill its contents, and Anna began to rush forward with a cry. Those were all sorts of necessities, lumber and clothing and food, and Anna could recognize the designs. All of it was from Arendelle. The people needed those for the coming winter!
"Get away," Piggy said, and he smacked her again on the back of her knee before she could get close. Her leg collapsed under her and she fell to the floor, hitting her jaw hard on the deck, but she could barely feel the pain over her indignation.
Pure fury fueled Anna to ignore the sharp sting and even common sense telling her to avoid being hit again. She sprang to her feet and whirled around to demand, "What's this all about?"
"What do you think? Tribute that Arendelle owes us," Piggy said, and Anna took another hurried look around. Every ship banked in the harbor was being filled to the brim. All of this was tribute? But Elsa had said. . .
Even if she weren't stunned to speechlessness, Anna didn't have a chance to protest being cheated. Piggy dragged her along the deck, harsh grip leaving red finger-shaped marks on her upper arm. Probably to shove her into the hold or something with the cargo, but then they passed the same pulley that had malfunctioned earlier. Just as Anna walked by, the blond boy let out a grunt of surprise when another crate fell from too high. Thankfully, this one didn't break.
Piggy turned, practically frothing at the lips. "Use some sense, boy! How many are you going to break before you learn?" Anna very almost felt sorry for the boy until she remembered he was from the Southern Isles too. She promptly turned her nose up at him.
And then continued looking out the corner of her eye.
"Sorry," Blondie said, still wearing a cheeky grin as he apologized and actually throwing a thumbs up. As an afterthought he added, "Commander."
Anna couldn't help but laugh even with her mood. Despite herself, she found Blondie's grin to be infectious, and Piggy turned on her next when he heard her stifling a snicker. "Since you're here, you may as well help clean up this mess." And turning on his heel, Piggy strutted away.
"That's rough," Blondie said, and Anna looked down at the crate of tribute. Awkward, the heaviest thing she had ever had to lift was maybe a chair to climb up the pantries and get chocolate.
"Whatever," Anna grumbled. She squatted down on one end, put her arms around the box, and strained as hard as she could to lift the damn thing like a valiant knight.
"You look like a troll trying to pass a kidney stone," Blondie said. It was maybe the first thing Anna had heard all day that wasn't spoken with actual malice.
Anna took a deep breath. "So how about giving me a hand, Blondie?"
"It's Kristoff." Blondie, or Kristoff, finally deigned to pick up the other end and together they heaved the massive thing up. Mostly on Kristoff's end, but Anna put in her best work.
Slowly making their way over to the hold, Anna couldn't help a jibe. "So Piggy is a Commander? That's actually pretty sad."
"Piggy?" Kristoff laughed so hard he nearly dropped the crate, and Anna shot him a glare while desperately trying to keep her balance. Kristoff just shrugged it off.
"Yeah, Andersen's more bark than he is bite. Or more snort than he is bite, I guess." He grinned weakly, his way of offering a truce.
Anna grinned back, feeling some of the tension of the day be relieved just seeing a friendly face. "You're not too bad."
"Oh. Uhh, thanks." Kristoff scratched the back of his neck. "Not every day I get complimented by royalty. Uhh, Princess Anna. Err, Your Highness?"
"I don't think that really applies anymore, does it?" Anna nodded at the crate being carried between them, and then she very nearly slipped over a puddle on the deck. She steadied herself out while Kristoff looked like his eyes were about to bug out carrying the crate on his own. "Whoops, sorry."
Stumbling over a few more stations, they finally lugged the crate down the stairs of the hatch and into the hold, a dark, damp place dripping with fetid water and stinking of something. Anna wrinkled her nose at the smell, but it didn't help in the slightest.
"Rats," Kristoff said, snickering when Anna flinched.
"You're kidding."
"Nope. Just a few, but every ship has them."
When Kristoff sat down on one of the barrels lined up against the side, Anna hesitantly joined him. No rats so far, but up above there were certainly more than a few. Kristoff sat oddly passive and quiet, and for a long minute neither of them spoke. Anna poked at the single oil lamp hanging around, sending it swaying back and forth and casting a moving strobe light over the darkness.
"I've learned the trick," Kristoff said. "You can laze around here for about three minutes before you're considered lingering here too long." His tone darkened enough for Anna to tell he had learned through painful experience.
"You've been doing this long?" Anna asked quietly, steadying the lamp so its creaking abated.
Kristoff shrugged and scuffed the floor with his boot, scraping away a good section of grime that Anna vaguely thought might be sentient because it moved with life of its own. With a sigh, Kristoff flicked it off with a shake of his foot. "Not really, I work at the castle stables usually. Stable-boy, you know."
"Oh, so you must know a lot about horses."
"Not... necessarily." Kristoff smiled wryly when Anna frowned. "You'll see. I guess since a few years ago, no one really knows about the Southern Isles, huh?"
Years ago, the Southern Isles, originally open to any visitor, suddenly closed off its ports and surrounded the entire island with its navy so no one could get close. Strange, but neither the King of Arendelle nor anyone at all thought much of their isolation. They weren't attacking anyone, and the Southern Isles still maintained regular communication. Anna supposed it must have been something to do with Elsa.
"Elsa," Anna grumbled.
"You sound pretty upset," Kristoff said.
"Upset?" Anna stood and glowered, feeling all of her aggravation build up so strongly it lodged in her chest. "She cheated Arendelle! All that about being lenient if I left with her—which, by the way, I think makes no sense at all—and then all of this is still being taken?" She kicked at the barrel Kristoff sat on.
Kristoff steadied it and held his hands out. "Easy there, Your Highness. Oh, we should probably be making our way up too." As he led the way and Anna reluctantly followed, he continued speaking. "I'm just going to be totally honest, it could have been way worse."
"What could be worse than this?"
"From what I can see, no one in Arendelle should starve at least." Anna made a face, but Kristoff was probably right. They had enough to manage even without all this, as long as everybody rationed their supplies a bit. "And. . . at the very least. . . nobody's being chained up and taken away," Kristoff continued. Anna nearly tripped up the stairs. Slavery was still a thing? Kristoff helped her up the hatch and cleared his throat, some unrecognizable emotion in his eyes. "I mean, except for you, but you know."
"Thanks for making me feel better," Anna said. "Now I only want to drown myself."
"Not a problem." Walking back to the crane, they prepared another shipment. Anna absentmindedly pulled at the ropes with her eyes downcast, lost in her thoughts until Kristoff nudged her and she realized she was actually pulling at air while Kristoff did all the work. "Hey, look over there."
"What can be so impor—"
Anna followed the direction of Kristoff's finger and immediately quieted. Queen Elsa stepped out from her ice-ship to stand at the bow, overshadowing even the majestic vessel with her beauty. As much as she hated to admit it, Anna felt her breath hitch in her chest at the picture of perfection. Without the windstorms and blizzards surrounding her, without the evidence of her power reminding Anna how dangerous she really was, Elsa just looked unhappy. Regal and poised and elegant, but unhappy.
As though sensing Anna's gaze on her, Elsa turned to the side and looked right at her. Anna immediately looked down, but when she worked up the courage to glance back up again a moment later, she saw Elsa looking like she was maybe smiling just a bit, the corner of her lips twitched up a miniscule amount. Before Anna could look again and check to see she wasn't having some sort of storage-stink induced dream, Elsa turned and went back into her ship.
"Wait, it's made out of ice. Are there rooms?"
Kristoff opened his mouth to speak, but then stalled with jaw agape. His eyebrows furrowed. "That's actually a good question. . . but maybe for later. We better get back to work."
He looked over the opposite end of the ship, and Anna watched with horror as overseers whipped a couple of the workers, dragging long bleeding grooves down their backs and never once letting up even when they hastened their work. Then she realized they must have been the slaves Kristoff had mentioned, the prisoners of war being forced to work here up on deck. . .
And then Anna looked at the suddenly grim-faced Kristoff, and understood just how he even knew about that fate so well, so personally. Kristoff. . . wasn't from the Southern Isles after all. Pity welled from her heart, but she had no words of comfort for him, could do nothing but look away.
She couldn't even take care of herself right now.
In Anna's own opinion, she had never been spoiled; but no matter what, she was still a princess and hardly accustomed to manual labor. It had been fine with Kristoff helping her out, but then Piggy—Andersen— decided to torment her some more by throwing her in with some other much nastier people. No one really expected Anna to be able to do much, but they certainly had fun making her try.
Whatever optimism Anna could dredge up from her brief rapport with Kristoff didn't last long when she was made to haul supplies like a mule, hands unused to work pulling coarse rope that bit into her skin until it was chafed red and raw. Anna never once complained.
She wasn't about to give these people the satisfaction.
It was only a few short hours, but for Anna it felt like an eternity. Her only comfort was that it was too early for any of the citizens of Arendelle to see her. Not for her pride's sake. She worried what it would do to them to see their princess being forced to work like this. Blood dripped out of a cut on her hand and bruises marred the back of her legs where Andersen had struck her, and she was pretty sure she was suffering from dehydration, but Anna forged on.
Optimism was one of her few strengths.
Until they decided to throw her into the hold and lock her up in a cell.
"Hey! You can't just—"
Anna's protests fell on deaf ears when the hatch slammed shut and she was left alone in the darkness, trapped in what amounted to a cage with the key thrown away. Only the lone lamp she had played with earlier provided any sort of illumination, and it was a weak, flickering thing at best. Anna still thought it might have been for the best. If any brighter, she would be able to see the grime on the floor. She could barely tolerate feeling it sticking onto her as it was, the filthy, oily muck seeming to seep into her very skin.
It only got worse when the ship started moving. Anna tried hard not to get seasick, but no amount of mental willpower would strengthen her stomach against the rolling waves. Locked in the darkness without even fresh air, Anna really thought she might vomit any moment. And then she realized one thing that made even her heart plummet.
She hadn't even been allowed to take one last look at Arendelle before being separated from her home.
"How long am I going to be here?" Anna muttered to herself.
She hadn't been expecting an answer.
A high-pitched chitter made Anna snap to attention. In the corner of her cell, she vaguely saw a pair of eyes glittering, followed by another, and another. Rats. Her breathing sped up as she tried to suppress the growing surge of panic, but looking away only made her see the bars trapping her in and the claustrophobia made everything worse.
Anna moved to put some distance between her and the rodents, but she tripped as pressure strained against her ankles. She had forgotten. They'd put shackles on her. The rattling only made the rats start to hiss, and Anna hurried over to the bars while the sound echoed in her ears.
"Let me out!" Anna screamed, hitting the cage as hard as she could, but it barely made a sound in the hold, let alone up to and through the hatch where anyone would hear her. "Let me out. . . please. . . "
She finally, finally let her tears fall as she retreated to the corner, sitting with her legs tucked in and arms wrapped around herself as the cold set in.
I want to go home.