Chapter 5 — God Help The Outcasts
So the poor Snow Queen retreated back in through the doors of the Cathedral.
On her way back to the bell tower she called her home, the trail of her dried tears mingled with the icy wind that enveloped her, as if the very atmosphere shared her melancholy. Yet the prying, heavy eyes of the congregation fell upon her like a cloak of damnation.
The loud shouts of the crowd outside still rang in her ears, the whispers like barbs, stings that pierced her already fragile inner peace. She felt the wound on her back, the cut from the attack still burning like hot embers. She repeated her master's words, a kind of painful mantra that echoed in her mind, repeated incessantly like a sentence of imprisonment:
"Back to my sanctuary… I must go back…"
In the midst of her thoughts and anguish, she did not realize that she was not alone on her journey back. Friendly shadows followed her, the three Northuldra who had successfully escaped, taking refuge in the shadows of the massive cathedral.
It was the first time these free souls had entered the sacred precinct, and all three of them marveled at the beauty of the place, like beggars receiving alms. Each colorful stained-glass window, each carved column, each majestic arch seemed to fill them with light.
"The light of Arendelle…" Anna murmured, her voice filled with awe and wonder at the grandeur that surrounded them.
The other two smiled at the hushed words. Ryder, however, soon regained his senses and grabbed the shoulders of the two women.
"We need to get out of here, now! We can't risk getting caught." His alert eyes looked at the two.
But Honeymaren, though aware of the danger, refused to move so easily. Her eyes were filled with determination and guilt, an intense mixture of emotions that drove her to do what she felt was necessary.
"No... I must find Elsa and apologize for what happened." Her voice was filled with real sadness, like a resigned lament.
"Maren, I understand what you're trying to do, but what happened wasn't your fault..."
"Still, this is what my heart is asking, please try to understand."
Anna's eyes, full of understanding, met Honeymaren's and she smiled sympathetically. Ryder, though frustrated, gave in to the force of his sister's desire.
"All right, but make it quick. We can't stay here."
With a determined nod, Honeymaren turned away from them, her footsteps echoing on the cathedral floor. Ryder sighed, a bit annoyed, his gaze fixed on her back, then gestured impatiently toward the exit.
"I'm going to look for the best escape route, will you come with me?"
"I'll... catch up with you in a minute..." The young man agreed with a nod and turned away, heading quickly for the large entrance doors.
Anna approached a carved statue of the Virgin Mary. Her heart was filled with a complex mixture of feelings: faith, uncertainty, and heightened tension. Living among the Northuldra had given her a deeper understanding of the forces of nature and the Spirits, yet she still maintained her belief in the Church, a philosophy that was a unique reflection of her beliefs. Kneeling before the statue, she whispered the familiar words of a familiar prayer:
"Salve, Regina, Mater misericordiae. Vita, dulcedo, et spes nostra, salve." She continued to recite the prayer with reverence and then asked: "God, help the outcasts, or nobody will."
As her words echoed in the vastness of the cathedral, a shadow silently approached. The ornaments on Kristoff's uniform reflected the candlelight as he moved cautiously toward Anna.
"I thought you had disappeared in a puff of smoke!" His voice, unexpected, made Anna jump, her heart racing.
Her eyes quickly turned in the direction Ryder had gone, wishing he was still there to help her. However, the cruel reality soon set in and she realized that she was alone.
"Don't believe everything you see." She explained, ready to run.
With an almost instinctive gesture, Kristoff reached out with his right hand to stop Northuldra from escaping. But before he could touch her, Anna reacted quickly, pulling out a knife discreetly hidden under her clothing and pressing the blade against his throat.
"Please give me the chance to apologize." He asked in a surprisingly soft tone, and Anna moved the knife away slightly, still maintaining her defensive stance.
"For what?"
"For this." Kristoff grabbed Anna and in one swift move forced her to drop the knife. "Still, I'm impressed. You fight almost as well as a man."
"Funny, I was about to say the same thing about you!"
Releasing from the grip, Anna elbowed Kristoff in the stomach, the move was quick and effective, and in a few seconds she had the knife back, keeping her distance from the soldier. He flinched for a few seconds, but soon regained his composure.
"Look, my job is to protect this cathedral." He says calmly, the muscles of his face tense in an expression of seriousness that borders on authority. His hands, open and unarmed, remained suspended as a sign that he posed no immediate threat.
Anna stared at him, her eyes expressing a mixture of suspicion and weariness. The tension in the air was almost palpable, an invisible line separating them into different but converging universes.
"From filthy Northuldra like me?"
"You're the one saying it, not me..."
Anna couldn't help but roll her eyes at his answer and with a quick, fluid movement she put the knife she was still holding away. Her attention was now fully focused on Kristoff, her inquisitive gaze conveying the message that she would not be fooled by word games.
"What do you want?"
Kristoff did not answer right away. He looked at her for a moment, as if weighing his options and deciding how to proceed. Then, with an almost corner smile, he replied with a subtle challenge.
"I'll settle for your name." His answer caught her off guard and she blinked, unsure how to react.
"Anna... Anna Idunnsdatter." The name was still unusual as it rolled off her lips, but she was proud of it anyway.
A sincere smile lit up the Captain's face, and Anna almost found herself smiling in response.
"Beautiful... Much better than Kristoff!" The woman's laughter rang out in the cathedral, the sound echoing off the ancient walls. Kristoff joined her, and for a moment the differences between them seemed less relevant. "Sorry, for before, I was just... I was following my orders."
"And if there's one thing a good soldier knows, it's how to follow orders." He replied, but her tone was more mischievous than angry.
Kristoff's laugh was an open response, and he leaned against the wall behind him, his eyes fixed on Anna.
"Who says I'm a good soldier?" He teased, raising one eyebrow defiantly.
"Are you saying you're not?"
"All I'm saying is that I have a job to do. It's much better than the one the king took me away from." He finished in a somber tone, a hint of bitterness tracing his words.
"Burying your comrades in nameless graves?"
Before Kristoff could answer, the church doors opened with a loud creak and King Runeard entered, accompanied by an entourage of guards. The aura of authority that surrounded Runeard was palpable, and his gaze swept the cathedral until it landed on Anna and Kristoff.
"Good work, Captain! Now arrest her." The king's voice echoed through the sacred space, his tone at once satisfied and authoritative.
With his back to Runeard, the captain felt his heart clench as he saw Anna's betrayed look. He quickly searched for a solution, a way to minimize the impact of what was about to happen. He whispered to Anna, his words barely audible but filled with urgency:
"Claim sanctuary." But she did not, and continued to stare at him, now with the anger of before. "Say it!"
"You tricked me!" She shouted.
"I'm waiting, Captain." Runeard was losing his patience.
"I am deeply sorry, sir. She claims sanctuary. My hands are tied." The Captain's words came out in a sharp tone that masked the inner struggle that was unfolding in his mind.
The narrowing of Runeard's eyes and the tightening of his lips clearly showed his frustration as his gaze fixed on the young couple before him. It was almost as if he was probing their very core, searching for any trace of weakness or insecurity.
After a tense pause, he sighed heavily and, with an abrupt wave of his hand, ordered the guards to withdraw. Runeard's unquestionable authority hung in the air like an almost tangible presence.
"Well, these are God's laws after all." He declared ruefully. "Don't think you've outwitted me, girl, for I am a patient man, and the Northuldra cannot live well within stone walls." The comment was met with a defiant look from Anna, her expression rigid and unyielding.
"What a righteous man, eh?" He muttered between his teeth, his voice a thin veneer of sarcasm.
"I have other matters to attend to..." He turned to the soldier who was still standing in front of the woman. "Return to your post, Captain! Be ready to arrest her as soon as she steps outside."
Even resentful, Kristoff obeyed and started for the exit, but before he was completely out of Anna's sight, he took one last look over his shoulder, his eyes searching hers in a silent plea for understanding.
Anna's look was a mixture of conflicting emotions, confusion and a spark of uncertainty. She watched Kristoff walk away, a whirlwind of thoughts swirling in her head.
Runeard looked at her curiously, the feeling of familiarity at the sight of the young woman returning, but he ignored his instincts and made his way to the altar. In the midst of his steps, he crossed paths with the person who was at the forefront of his mind.
"Looks like it's not just the streets that are infested with Northuldra today..." The statement startled Honeymaren, who was absentmindedly looking for the way to the bell tower. "You, pagans, are not allowed in this holy place."
For a brief moment, Honeymaren's instinct was to reach for her knife, but she knew that pointing a weapon at the king was a death sentence. She kept her fingers away from the weapon, though the temptation was almost irresistible.
"And why do you hate us so? What have we done to deserve your hatred?" Honeymaren's words were firm, each syllable loaded with question and a hint of indignation.
Runeard seemed momentarily unsettled, as if her words had hit him in a vulnerable place he preferred to keep hidden. The image of Agnarr's scarred face, the last look of a man about to die, returned to the king's mind, poking at the shadows of his remorse.
Had that woman not seduced him, things would be very different today.
"More than you know..." He murmured, his eyes fixed on hers, a multitude of emotions stirring in his gaze. "What are you doing here?"
"I came here to find Elsa. It was my fault that she went on stage." Honeymaren stated his reason with raw sincerity, her voice echoing in the vastness of the cathedral. But the confession, though true, seemed to have the opposite effect, fueling Runeard's anger.
"The girl is not your concern. She's in my charge!" He sighed, as if struggling to control his own emotions. His gaze shifted to an image of Jesus that hung in the shadows of the church, as if seeking divine guidance. "God loves even a monster."
These words, though addressed to Honeymaren, seemed more like an inner monologue. A confession of his own conflicts and dilemmas. For a moment, Honeymaren's eyes caught the shadow of something deeper in the king, a glimpse of his humanity hidden behind the layers of power and prejudice.
"She is no less human than any of us." The conviction in her words was almost palpable. Her eyes glowed with an inner fire, her stance unwavering.
The king's gaze traveled up and down her body, laden with judgment. A tense silence hung between them as his words echoed throughout the cathedral, a duel of convictions that would not yield.
"Some are less human than others..." Runeard's voice rang out, icy and sharp, cutting through the air like a sword. His eyes remained fixed on Honeymaren, and she felt as if she were being examined through a burning lens. "In the moral sense."
" You mean me?" She exclaimed, crossing her arms defensively.
A wry smile played on Runeard's lips, an expression that seemed to have seen the world and all its hypocrisies. A world he himself had helped to create.
"You dance in public without shame or modesty!"
"I dance because I enjoy it. Others enjoy it too and give me money..." Her eyes shifted for a moment, and her voice dropped almost to a whisper. "Thanks to the laws of your kingdom, we, Northuldra, are deprived of the opportunity to earn money honestly, even to buy medicine for the sick. So how can you judge my attempt to help them?"
Almost mesmerized, Runeard stood and stared at her in silence, but then he rebutted her:
"Clever. You twist the truth just as you twist your body in dance."
Trying another approach, Honeymaren softened her tone, hoping she could convince him:
"Your Majesty, there must be some charity in you." The remark managed to surprise the king, who let his guard down. "If you've helped Elsa, surely you can extend such kindness to those who are just as unfortunate? How would you wish others to treat you, couldn't you treat them?"
Paralyzed, the monarch smiled at the question. For the first time in a long time, he felt his cheeks flush and looked away from the woman. For an instant, Runeard's hand trembled, almost as if he were about to make a gesture, a confession, but then he regained his composure and looked away.
"Our Lord Jesus said something similar..." He pointed to the image of Christ hanging on the altar, as if seeking the comfort of faith for his own doubts and inner conflicts. "He watches over us..."
As they spoke, the cathedral began to fill with people. Candles were lit, prayers were murmured.
"Evening Mass is beginning, I must go..." He turned to leave, but not before addressing the Northuldra one last time. "My girl, though your people are lost, perhaps there is still something in you that can be saved. Stay, and perhaps you will see what true beauty is. And we... We can continue this conversation later."
With a short, elegant bow, he finally left, his footsteps echoing in the cathedral as he walked away. The echo of his words remained, hanging in the air like an uncertain promise.
Amidst the tapestry of whispers that filled the sacred space, Honeymaren retreated into the shadow of a pillar, allowing the charged atmosphere to envelop her. Inspired by the energy of the place, she began to murmur a prayer in her native tongue:
"Oh, Ahtohallan, Mother of Spirits! I ask for nothing, I can get by, but I know so many less fortunate than me..." She took out an amulet carefully hidden under her robes, an ornament with the image of a snowflake intertwined with ancient runes. "Please help my people, the poor and downtrodden, I thought we were all People of the Sun... Please help the outcasts and watch over us."
As Honeymaren chanted her prayer, an observant presence loomed in the shadows. Elsa, who had listened to the conversation between Runeard and the Northuldra woman with deep intrigue, watched the scene with alert eyes. Though still shaken by the turmoil of the festival and the brutality she had suffered, a sense of peace began to envelop her, nourished by the selfless words of prayer.
She smiled a little and continued to watch. However, the moment of contemplation was interrupted when a member of the congregation noticed Elsa's presence and let out an accusatory cry:
"You! Witch! What are you doing down here?"
Startled, Elsa barely had time to react before a candelabra, previously balanced on a nearby table, fell to the stone floor with a crash. The sound echoed through the room, drawing all eyes to her.
Honeymaren, now alert to the commotion, turned in the direction of the sound and her eyes found Elsa. She rose quickly and hurried toward the Snow Queen. Elsa, feeling exposed and vulnerable, didn't hesitate to escape those accusing looks and run back to the safety of her sanctuary.
"Elsa, please wait!" Honeymaren cried, her voice a mixture of desperation and sincerity. "I just want to apologize..."
Honeymaren followed Elsa, her quick steps echoing off the cathedral walls until she came to a trapdoor. It was the entrance to Elsa's private world, a portal to her secret sanctuary. The woman hesitated, her mind conflicted as she considered what to do. There was something in the air, a feeling that told her crossing that threshold would change the course of her life.
Raising her chin and taking a deep breath, she cupped the cold handle in her hand and, with a determined gesture, pushed open the stranger's door. The trapdoor creaked softly, as if welcoming an unexpected visitor, and Honeymaren entered Elsa's hidden world, a refuge few had ever seen.
I do not own Frozen, or any of the related characters. The Frozen Franchise is owned by Walt Disney Pictures. This fanfiction is intended for entertainment only. I am not making any profit from this story. All rights of the original Frozen story belong to Walt Disney Pictures.