"Done with your groveling?" Alvard asked, not sparing a glance in Hans' direction as he sat at his velvet-covered chair and polished his sword in the dark of his room. All the window blinds were down, leaving only the barest rays of light to filter through the spaces between wooden slats alternating black and brown. Darkness only made the wicked longsword in his hand gleam brighter.
"I do what I must to survive," Hans said easily. Without invitation, he leaned against the wall of the sixth prince's bedroom and looked out the corner of his eye to study his older brother's hawkish features. "I don't see any of the rest of you thanking me for my efforts in preserving us all."
"You think Elsa would do anything to us?" Alvard scoffed and swung his sword through the air, apparently not satisfied yet as he replaced it on a grinding stone.
"I think she is unpredictable." Hans smiled when Alvard paused for the slightest of moments before continuing to sharpen the longsword. "And unpredictable people are, unfortunately, beyond the scope of our control. We are not Father, after all."
It was too easy to manipulate even his brothers. Hans kept his eyes fixed on Alvard as they spoke, offering tiny tidbits of information in exchange for his, carefully gauging Alvard's reaction and filing them away in his mind. Furrowing of his heavy brow, clenching of his strong jaw, pursing of his thin lips, all as expected. One sore point common to many of his brothers—Elsa. Hans could make them do whatever he wanted if he linked it to the queen.
"Father made a mistake raising that wench," Alvard growled. Sparks flew with a dull screech from where he pushed too hard and his longsword dragged against stone. "She's out of control. She's forgotten what she's supposed to be doing while the rest of us suffer through her accursed winter."
"Ahh, you've heard about our new guest, Princess Anna."
"Obviously." Alvard abandoned the grindstone and sat down with a heavy scowl, continuing to polish with violent swipes of his hand. "What Elsa thinks her use will be, I dare not even imagine."
"She is very beautiful," Hans admitted, almost laughing at the disgust on Alvard's face. Oh, Anna. Hans almost felt sorry for taking advantage of someone so gullible, but a few hours and he had extracted every bit of information he needed. Elsa really needed to cover her tracks better, to allow such a glaring weakness to roam around freely where anyone might strike.
"Ridiculous," Alvard muttered.
"It is not beyond someone as unnatural as Elsa," Hans said, carefully toning his voice to hesitance. Let Alvard think he was spineless. After years of being underestimated, Hans knew well the benefits of such. No one ever suspected him. "I have heard... well, perhaps I should remain silent."
"You have heard what, Hans? Speak up, or I will think you a sniveling woman. Do not bandy words here." Alvard thumbed the edge of his longsword in a manner Hans supposed was meant to be intimidating, but he only found it laughable.
"Well, Elsa personally took care of the girl. . . in her personal quarters, overnight. She did not even report to Father until this morning, after once again personally bandaging her wounds."
Instantly, Alvard tightened his grip on the sword until his knuckles turned white.
"I take my leave," Hans said, slowly retreating from the room, head bowed to hide his smile. Oh, it was too easy.
….
Anna did eventually make it to Kristoff, several hours later than intended but at least bearing gifts this time: some pastries she had swiped from the kitchens after Hans led her there for lunch and departed. Clutching the morsels tightly under her cloak and watching out for any charging horses this time around, Anna once again braved the snow and safely made it to the stables.
Shrugging off her heavy overcoat once entering the main barn, Anna took a quick look around. As expected, just an ordinary stable with two rows of stalls and a walkway in the middle, each stall filled with bales of hay and smelling even stronger of pungent animal now she was closer. She walked further in, looking over the stalls for Kristoff, until she heard voices in the back and stopped.
"Look, no, you'll be perfectly fine but I'll be thrown in the dungeons—"
"C'mon! Just once, I swear. If I don't say anything, and you don't say anything, who's going to know?"
The first voice she recognized, grumpy but subtly warm—Kristoff. The second voice, boyish and practically bursting with excitement as it pleaded, Anna was curious about. Taking the last few steps to the back end of the barn, Anna surprised both boys with a loud, "Guess who?"
Oddly, Kristoff gave a start and looked ready to bolt before realizing it was just her, clutching onto Sven and heaving a loud sigh. A shorter boy next to him laughed at his reaction, smile wide and toothy but aristocratic features still obvious: dark hair and pale skin, slender nose and high cheekbones, obviously the result of carefully selected marriage. Though he had his sleeves rolled up and his arms were plastered with what Anna thought was dirt, the fine material of his clothing betrayed his identity again.
"I'm guessing you don't usually work here," Anna said, and the boy nodded.
"Prince Edmund. I'm twelve." Edmund paused and widened his eyes, shaking his head frantically as Anna snickered. "No! Twelfth! I mean I'm twelfth in line, not that I'm twelve. Uhh. Who are you?"
"Princess Anna of Arendelle."
"Ohhh, you're that girl Elsa picked up." Before Anna could protest the labeling, Edmund stuck out his hand. "Nice to meet you." But just as Anna prepared to take the proffered handshake, he jerked back; and for a moment she thought he was actually pretty nasty, until he smiled weakly and said, "Sorry. Umm, I don't know how to say this delicately, but what you're seeing on my hand isn't actually dirt."
Sven whinnied proudly.
"O-Oh." Anna unconsciously took a step back, but she was more amused than grossed out. They were in the stables. But for a prince to be perfectly okay with being covered in manure. . .
Edmund turned back to the now exasperated Kristoff and slapped him on the shoulder, leaving a long trail of brown over his shirt but ignoring his glower. "Right, Anna. Since you're here, you can help me convince this lug to let me help on deliveries."
"Deliveries?" Anna asked.
Kristoff cleared his throat. "We have weekly deliveries of supplies to all the families out in town. Of course, our prince isn't allowed to come. I could already get in trouble just letting him help around here."
"Why not?" Edmund asked, but very much like Anna thought she would do, he cut off Kristoff's answer and spoke over his groan. "Okay, listen. These are my people, right? I'm their prince, so I have a responsibility to help out."
"And I have a responsibility to make sure you don't get hurt, or that's on my head." Kristoff crossed his arms and glared down at the boy in the strangest reversal of royalty and commoner, and Anna felt her head spin when Kristoff added, "And that's final," with seemingly legitimate authority.
"You stink, both literally and metaphorically," Edmund said.
Anna couldn't help giggling, and they both looked towards her with matching glares. Practically feeling the hostility burning on her skin, Anna held out her hands in mock-surrender. "I agree that Kristoffer stinks, but maybe you really shouldn't do these deliveries."
"It's Kristoff."
"Shut up, Kristoffer." As Kristoff threw his hands up and fumed, Edmund looked back to Anna. "But why not? I'm serious, I want to do this. It's the right thing to do."
"I know, but it's not really fair to Kristoff though," Anna said, holding in a smile as Edmund grumbled. She felt immediate rapport with the boy, so open with his emotions and obviously eager to be helpful. It was the strangest thing, and she found herself talking to him like he was much younger until she realized something very, very weird. "Wait. How are you older than Hans?"
"I'm older by, like, three days." Edmund shrugged off the whole different mother thing as common business; but then he grimaced, wrinkling his nose as though the mere thought of Hans could actually be worse than the odor of the stables. "Oh. Hans. So you've met him, huh?"
Anna looked from Edmund to Kristoff and back. "Is there something wrong?"
"I can't say anything personally," Kristoff said, and he turned back to Sven, offering him half a carrot and eating the rest.
"He's not the worst, but I just don't like him much. Vibes, you know," Edmund said, with a note of finality like that was self-explanatory.
Anna frowned. "That's not really a good reason to dislike somebody. Hans is a nice guy."
"You'd be surprised how often vibes are accurate," Edmund said, smiling with easy confidence. "Gut instinct is an awesome thing, appearances can fool your eyes but not your gut. Like, I get good vibes from you, so I'm sure you're a good person. Am I right? Are you a good person?"
"Would anyone say otherwise?" Anna asked.
"I did," Kristoff said. "I told him to bug off, but then he kept coming around the stables trying to steal a reindeer and I eventually let him stick around. Better to know where he is so he doesn't get hurt."
"Actually, I should probably head back before anyone notices," Edmund said. He shook his arms, and Anna dodged the flying missiles of manure. "It was nice meeting you, Anna. See you around."
"Bye!" Only when Edmund had left the barn did Anna remember. "Damn, I should have asked him about Elsa. Good vibes or bad vibes?" She laughed again at the strange system, but she guessed it worked well enough for Edmund. Anna wondered if that really worked, if judging people based on vibes could be accurate. As for Elsa. . .
Kristoff stepped out of the stall after giving Sven one last pat on the head, and Anna followed him as he rinsed his hands off in a bucket standing in the walkway. "So. . . you're curious about Elsa now?"
"I just want to know more about my kidnapper! There's nothing strange," Anna said, bristling over the knowing tone in Kristoff's voice. "So what do you think about her?"
"Of course not." Kristoff rose and flicked his hands dry. "And I really can't tell you much. I'm just a prisoner of war, remember? All I can tell you is that Elsa was the one to propose giving out supplies. And, you know, Edmund's system really isn't all that bad. What do you think?"
Anna blinked.
If she were honest with herself, Elsa gave her good vibes.
She just didn't want to admit it.
….
Dinner the second night was more awkward than the first, probably because Anna couldn't muster up the same anger anymore and was left sitting there eating by herself as Elsa watched. Same long dining table separating them by a full three meters, same dead air.
"You're seriously not going to eat?" Anna asked.
"It's not necessary." Elsa tilted her glass and swirled the wine inside, bringing it up to her nose but never drinking it. "How is the food?"
"Oh, great." Anna stabbed at her home delicacies to prove her point. "We don't always have to have food from Arendelle though. Is that. . . why you're not eating?" Right after the words left her mouth Anna flushed, realizing she made it sound like Elsa got this food specifically for her.
"No, but thank you for your concern. I'm glad you like it."
And Elsa didn't even deny it. Anna swallowed and bowed her head, eating a little faster to cover up her nervousness. She ended up choking on a particularly tough piece of lamb, doubling over as she coughed and coughing even harder when she tried to stop because God, it was embarrassing. Looking up with teary eyes, Anna saw Elsa gripping the arms of her seat like she was ready to get up and help, except she seemed torn and ended up helplessly looking around.
"Are you all right?" Elsa asked.
Anna was slightly comforted by the fact that Elsa could be awkward too.
"Fine! I'm fine," Anna said, thumping her chest a few times and clearing her throat once or twice. It sounded gross, but there really wasn't a way around it.
Elsa nodded and played with her wine some more. Probably feeling the awkward atmosphere just as much as Anna, she asked hesitantly, "Will you... tell me about Arendelle? If you don't mind. I know it may be a subject of sensitivity."
Remembering how she had flown into a rage just the other night, Anna wondered why she was so okay with this now. Vibes, maybe. Optimism, maybe. It wasn't like she could do anything to change her situation, and at least she might be able to do some good for Arendelle if she could get through to Elsa. Or something like that. Whatever. That was why she had come in the first place, for Arendelle.
"I don't mind," Anna said finally. "What do you want to know?"
"Anything. Whatever comes to mind, I'll be glad to hear it."
"Okay," Anna said, taking a deep breath in preparation. "Well. Arendelle's small, but the community is really tight-knit. I don't actually get to go out the castle much—Pappa's really overprotective—but whenever I do, everyone's really friendly. And not because I'm the princess! You'd be surprised how many people don't recognize me. I'm completely ordinary, so—"
"I don't think you are." Anna blinked at Elsa's pointed interruption, but she had gone quiet again.
". . . R-Right, thanks." A little flustered, Anna scrambled for more to say. "Oh, the food is really great. Are you sure you won't try any?" Elsa shook her head, smiling. "All right, so maybe another time, when you're not, like, fasting. Umm, there are four seasons?" Anna winced at that one. Potentially offensive.
"I prefer winter," Elsa murmured, so quietly that Anna could barely catch it from across the table.
"I can see that," Anna said. Throwing caution to the wind, she added, "But you know, other seasons aren't all that bad. Might be a little toasty, but most people don't mind a little variety."
Elsa pursed her lips. "I know."
"So. . . have you thought about thawing the Southern Isles?" Anna asked. Elsa stayed silent, looking down so the light of the candles sent shadows flitting across her face. "It would be a pretty good change, and I think your people would be really grateful for it."
Elsa said nothing.
"Will you just at least think about it?" Growing more and more frustrated as Elsa continued to ignore her, as she continued to avoid eye-contact and refuse to speak, Anna felt her tone harshen against her will. "Listen, you might think the winter's great and all, but it's brutal out there—"
"That's enough, Anna," Elsa said at last. "I will act as I see fit."
It was the same tone of voice Elsa had used when confronting her father, imperious and carrying the slightest edge of a threat. Immediately Anna felt the same anger pulsing in her chest as her entire perception of Elsa reversed. She had almost managed to make herself forget until this reminder. Arendelle. Here she was, talking about Arendelle to its conqueror, and she had really managed to feel just a hint of, what, acceptance? Anna was disgusted with herself.
Hans was right. Elsa was just a tyrant.
"No, sorry, I'm not done," Anna retorted. "Because you're being ridiculous! Just because you prefer the winter, you're going to make an entire country suffer through it? Look around you! Do you think anyone likes having to deal with this? But I forgot, you do know people don't like you much."
Elsa flinched. If it were anyone else, Anna might have felt immediate guilt; but then, if it were anyone else, Anna would never have spoken with such venom anyway. Right then, she felt only vicious satisfaction at the hint of weakness.
"But you don't want people to hate you, right? That's why you pass out those supplies." Elsa widened her eyes by just a fraction, but it was confirmation enough. "Well, that's not enough, and it won't ever be. Maybe if you stopped this cursed winter, they wouldn't hate you so much—"
A gloved hand slammed against the table.
"I said, enough!" Elsa snapped. She raised her voice only a little, but it was the first time Anna saw her lose her calm. Cold snaked into the hall on a fell wind. Frost spread over the edges of the table. The dying candle flames flickered, until Elsa closed her eyes and breathed deeply. "Anna, I know, but I can't. I'm sorry, but this winter is truly out of my control. Please, let it be."
". . . Fine," Anna said.
"I'm sorry for frightening you," Elsa said quickly, leaning forward a little. "I didn't mean—"
Anna shook her head. "Don't be sorry, I wasn't frightened. You're not as threatening as you think you are, Elsa, and I don't know why you try to be." She rose from the table, unable to stay any longer. She thought she might really try to hit Elsa at this rate, and the outcome definitely wouldn't be pretty.
"Wait, Anna—"
"I'm going to my room, if I have one," Anna said, meeting Elsa's gaze with challenge in her eyes. "Is that fine, or am I going to sleep in the dungeon? I don't mind. I've done it before, thanks to you."
Elsa broke eye-contact first. "A room has been prepared for you. Someone will lead you to it." Anna nodded and turned on her heel, ready to leave. From behind, she heard Elsa murmur, "I am truly sorry."
"I'm not sure who you're trying to convince," Anna said without looking back. "But if you say that enough, you might really start believing it."
She swung the doors open and left.
…
It had been a total of three days since coming to the Southern Isles, and after that disastrous dinner Anna only grew more and more confused about the enigma that was Elsa.
All right, so Elsa had conquered Arendelle. That was something Anna wouldn't be forgetting any time soon. All right, so Elsa inexplicably froze the Southern Isles too and seemingly refused to thaw her own kingdom even though everybody hated it. Anna made a few guesses why, each more improbable than the last. And all right, so Elsa had some strange connection with the nowhere-to-be-seen King Markus, which may or may not have been insidious in nature. Anna didn't even try guessing about that one.
But Elsa was also unfailingly polite and, if distant, probably the kindest kidnapper in the world.
Anna had her own room now, and unlike what she had half-expected as punishment for her second outburst, it was not a glorified prison but an actual room, furnished with everything she had back at home and more. Sleep came slowly amidst her troubled thoughts, until the next morning, someone knocked on her door and invited her to breakfast.
With Elsa.
At least the queen seemed determined to pretend that last dinner never even happened. It was just the two of them, and Elsa very professionally asked her if everything was satisfactory, if there was anything she needed, and if there was, she only needed to say a word. Otherwise, conversation was tentative now, even more than before, and both of them were on pins and needles—Anna hovering between animosity and acceptance, Elsa just as reserved as ever, and they exchanged maybe two short, clipped sentences before falling silent. But still, as Anna ate, she felt Elsa watching her.
The most unnerving thing was looking down at her meal, taking note of it carefully, and realizing every single dish was her favorite. Elsa must have been observing what she preferred every day and then made adjustments. Mind already reeling, Anna finally noticed once she got back to her quarters how everything had been arranged the exact same way as her old bedroom.
Anna wanted to be able to hate Elsa, but she was being so thoughtful and considerate that Anna wanted to rip her hair out.
It was unbelievably frustrating to realize she was getting used to life here.
Suddenly feeling an impulse to find the queen, Anna searched the castle until she peered out the windows of the great hall into the courtyard. And there, she saw Elsa.
…..
"Release, let free. There are no limits."
Feeling the tempest contained in her soul come to life beneath her skin, Elsa never felt more powerful or more detached. The world grew brighter, sharper, full of colors and smells and sounds suppressed along with her magic. It was not the same as creation, not the controlled force she had poured into her staircase, but an outpouring of her power for the sole purpose of destruction. Ice froze over in her veins, surged to her fingertips with a rush of heady adrenaline, the storm inside her singing louder and louder until she could contain it no longer.
Howling winds heralded the glacial storm that struck in the courtyard where Elsa trained her powers, shards of ice pelting down with violent impact, all of it swept into a spiraling snowstorm.
Let it go, let it free, let it go, and the power came faster, stronger, almost uncontrollable in its intensity. Elsa snapped her hands out and streaks of white blasted from her fingertips, torrent after torrent of ice streaking out as cold continued to circulate through her blood, until even her eyes flashed frigid blue.
She spun on her heel and aimed at targets set up around the courtyard, willing the ice to hit, and wave after wave of white surged forward to decimate, to demolish, to destroy, each one striking with deadly precision. With a stamp of her foot the entire courtyard froze over, the storm raged stronger; and she rode the wind, one with the sky. Free and weightless, Elsa glided across the icy plains, sharp pivots and turns taking her in a wild race.
Her power mounted, stronger and stronger, until it hit a crescendo.
And then, finally, electricity poured from her hands. Crackling lightning burst through, whispering over her skin and bringing with it the pain and pleasure of intoxicating power. Now as she weaved through the storm she threw bolt after bolt of lightning to sear through her targets, leaving little more than charred, smoking rubble behind. Contain it, tame it, control it, and the tempest withdrew with concussive force as Elsa stood at the eye of the storm, spiraling through the air before reentering her body.
Crossbows nocked in chorus as archers prepared to fire. From every single window of the surrounding castle came a hail of crossbow bolts. Molding the electricity into her ice, Elsa raised her hands and the air turned in on itself, forming a flawless sheet of magnetic ice. Every single projectile spun off course and redirected itself to stab uselessly into the ice, penetrating less than a centimeter before being forcibly halted. With a thought, the frost spread to the arrows. Another thought and the entire structure imploded with an earth-shattering roar, to land on the ground as shards of fractured crystal.
Elsa stood there, alone in her glory, and she let the last whispers of her power retreat to her soul.
Release, let free. There are no limits.
…
From the relative safety of the castle, Anna stood in open-mouthed awe of the sheer power she had just witnessed. After that display, it was difficult to believe Elsa could still be human. As though the blizzard hadn't been enough, Anna had just seen her conjure lightning. What else could she do that Anna had no idea about?
Opening the grand doors and carefully walking over to where Elsa was, Anna noticed she seemed fatigued for once. In the glittering graveyard, Elsa stood with her chest heaving and her eyes closed.
"Hey, are you all right—"
A wall of ice erupted from the ground just in time to block a stray crossbow bolt headed straight for Elsa. Her eyes snapped open, widened with surprise, and Anna knew this wasn't part of her training exercise anymore. They stood only a few feet away, and as their eyes met Anna saw the panic bleeding into Elsa's normal calm. She didn't understand. Elsa couldn't get hurt.
Then was Elsa worried. . . for her?
"Watch out!"
Elsa abandoned her defense and ran towards her, and Anna barely registered being held by bared hands as they fell to the ground, Elsa physically shielding her with her body. She saw another crossbow bolt burying itself at the exact place where she had stood. Elsa raised a hand towards the windows and a torrent of lightning shattered through glass and assassin both, body tumbling from above to land with the sickening crunch of crushed bone.
"You're hurt!" Anna peered over Elsa's shoulder and was horrified to see torn flesh on her back, a diagonal gash of flayed skin stretching from shoulder to hip. Anna had thought it impossible. Without realizing it, she had begun to believe Elsa above such mundane, mortal concepts as injury.
She was proven wrong when Elsa murmured, voice slurred and eyes clouded with pain, "I'm glad you're safe." She managed only a small smile of relief before slumping against her, and Anna had never been as terrified in her life as seeing this proud, untouchable queen rendered so helpless.
"Elsa!"
Elsa was human after all, but Anna wished she could have found out any other way.