Chapter Six
It's been a few days since she had her official diplomatic meeting with the British; if Elsa can even call it that. Since then, the Northuldra kept to themselves and avoided the British as much as they could. This proved difficult, though, as Lord Edward and his entourage had a habit of barging into the village whenever they pleased. The despicable man carries not an ounce of respect for the Northuldran people and their culture.
It's difficult to watch her mother's people—her people—be treated with such disrespect that it makes Elsa's blood boil. She notices it in the way they act and how they speak to them; authoritative and insolent. She wouldn't be surprised if they started demanding their boots to be kissed with how entitled they are.
Besides one uncomfortable run-in with Lord Edward—which made her both feel sick to her stomach and wanting to blast the leering expression off of his face with shards of ice—Elsa managed to duck far enough into the forest and out of sight from time to time.
She feels terrible abandoning her people in a time like this, even if it's just for an hour. It doesn't matter if she needs a breather or time to think about how to deal with the situation without fanning a potential fire. The guilt alone is enough to swallow her whole. How is this any better than when she ran off to the North Mountain years ago when her people needed her most?
It's not, she realizes. She might not be a queen of a kingdom anymore, but Elsa knows that her role still requires her to look after and protect the forest.
Her eyes blur as she holds back hot tears.
She's a failure. She failed at being Queen back in Arendelle and now she's failing as a Fifth Spirit.
These men are here to disrupt the balance. A balance that Elsa is supposed to facilitate and keep; it's her duty alone to make sure the forest never falls again—to protect the Northuldra and the Spirits.
Elsa sighs. She's such a failure that she can't even do what she was born to do properly.
A rush of air travels through her hair and billows her skirts with a low chirp. Elsa's so lost in her thoughts that it takes her a moment to comprehend the wind spirit floating in snow flurries before her. Winter is, in fact, one of the hardest seasons to spot Gale—as it turns out.
"Gale," Elsa utters in surprise. She hasn't seen the spirit for a couple of days.
Gale circles her again and Elsa lifts a brow.
A familiar hat is dropped into her hands. The earthy shade of brown leather with a fur trim is unmistakable. Elsa purses her lips. Her hand tightens its hold on the hat, the fur tickling her palm.
"Where did you get this?" she asks, lifting her gaze back up to the wind spirit, who merely gives her a short whistle. She doesn't need to ask where or whose hat it is, she can spot the article of clothing from a mile away. The question is why? She knows Gale is a mischievous spirit, but considering the circumstances right now, Elsa begins to worry that something might have happened to Honeymaren. They haven't even spoken, much less seen each other since their argument.
At this prospect, Elsa's heart drops to her stomach. If anything happens to Honeymaren, it's her fault. She shut her out. The guilt of falling back to old habits is eating her from the inside out.
Elsa holds onto the hat like her life depends on it—no, like Honeymaren's life depends on it—and takes a deep breath.
"Gale. . .where is she?"
The wind spirit whistles again and circles her in a beckoning manner.
Elsa turns on her heels to follow Gale, but nearly bumps into someone. She gasps and takes a step back, cradling the hat to her chest.
"Whoa, take it easy there Elsa. It's just me," Ryder soothes, holding out his hands as if to prove that he means no harm.
Elsa relaxes, dropping her overly-tense shoulders and eyes him apologetically.
"Ryder, I'm so sorry. I didn't see you there," she says, chewing her lip.
"Hey, all's well. No need to apologize! Geez, my sister wasn't kidding when she said you were a worry wart."
Elsa frowns, offended. "I'm not a worry wart," she tells him.
At the look of disbelief Ryder shoots her way, Elsa lowers her gaze to the leather hat in her hands.
"Okay, maybe a little. . ." she admits. Her eyebrows crease as she turns the hat in her hands, grazing the fur with the tips of her fingers. "Do you know where she is?"
Ryder follows her gaze to his sister's hat, cradled within Elsa's delicate grasp. He shrugs.
"She's around. No need to worry," he replies with a small grin.
A light blush pinks Elsa's cheeks.
"I wasn't worried," she protests.
Ryder shrugs. "Sure you weren't." He pauses. His playful nature dissipates as he watches her. Ryder frowns and sighs, "She misses you, you know."
Elsa's heart clenches and it's in that moment that she realizes that Ryder put Gale up to seek her out. She shouldn't be surprised. Ryder cares for Honeymaren as much as Elsa cares for Anna.
Her guilt only intensifies. Why does she always run from her problems? Old habits die hard, she supposes.
Her silence is interrupted by Ryder. She has to bite back a smile. He reminds her a little of Honeymaren; it seems both siblings need to fill silence after a while. Elsa recalls a few walks with Honeymaren where the woman needed to ramble a little every once in a while. Elsa misses it.
"I miss her too," she admits with a low sigh, closing her eyes for a brief moment. Aside from spirits, Honeymaren is the only other constant in her life here in the forest. Just her mere presence brightens Elsa on most days—she feels terrible for taking the woman, her only friend, for granted.
Her throat closes up at the realization that no matter what, Honeymaren's always believed in her.
Elsa owes her an apology.
"Look, I know she can be a bit much. My sister has a habit of coming on too strong, but she means well. Just. . .give her a chance. She adores you, Elsa, probably more than she knows."
Elsa gives him a ghost of a smile. It's a little crooked, but it's all she can muster up right now.
"Do you know where she is?"
Ryder grins, his playful side returning.
"You bet I do! Follow me." Ryder gestures with a hand and turns back to the direction of the village.
Elsa takes a deep breath, muttering to herself that she can do this, and follows him.
They walk in silence. The forest is quiet save for the crunching of snow beneath their feet. Elsa can feel the presence of the spirits nearby but they chose not to reveal themselves. That's how it always was—unless they were in a mischievous mood or needed help, the spirits of the Enchanted Forest were often left to their own devices.
Though what Elsa is supposed to do as a Fifth Spirit is still a mystery to her. Maintain the balance between spirits and nature, she knew, but how? Elsa mentally files such questions away for later.
The walk back to the Northuldra village is short. Elsa can smell the campfire and hear the bustling of the people. It isn't as congested as Arendelle, which is a welcome reprieve, but still feels like home.
Elsa begins to step through the brush that separates the forest from the village. She pauses to scan the array of people for Honeymaren but is a little surprised to find that the British seem to be mingling with the Northuldra.
Ryder walks past her and she hesitates to follow him. He pauses to look back at her with a questioning quirk of a brow.
"What's wrong?" he asks.
Elsa frowns. "Something isn't right," she tells him.
He follows her gaze with a confused expression but seems to note her concern after a few moments.
"They came to the village shortly after you left," he explains. "I'm not sure why, I didn't stick around to find out before I went looking for you. I figured you would have an answer."
Elsa opens her mouth to reply but is cut off by a shout. She stiffens at the familiarity of the sound and shares a panicked glance with Ryder before they break into a run.
The trees rush past her in a blur. Her heart pounds in her chest.
She's terrified of what she'll find as they break through the foliage and into the clearing.
A crowd of Northuldra are gathered; some are cowering and whispering while others are shouting, raising their hands and spears in protest. Elsa can't see beyond the crowd to understand what has them in an uproar.
Ryder moves ahead of her and pushes through.
Curious, Elsa follows his path. The Northuldra are so upset that they don't even notice her as she moves through muttering 'sorry' and 'excuse me'.
"Stop! Do you have any idea what you're doing?!"
Honeymaren.
Elsa mobilizes herself faster, uttering a short apology to a woman she nearly knocks over as she continues to race to the front.
When she begins to reach the edge of the crowd the first thing she notices is a freshly cut tree still hanging onto its trunk by a thread despite having fallen to the ground. With how clean the cut is, Elsa has no doubt that it was man-made; nothing but a saw or an ax could have made such a straight cut.
"Of course I do! I'm helping to show your…people how to utilize this forest to enhance this village!"
Lord Edward.
Elsa's heart plummets to the pit of her stomach and she feels nauseous. If she doesn't step in now this can turn into a disaster worse than any eternal winter she can conjure.
She breaks through the last wall of people to the sight of Honeymaren sizing up the British noble with a glare in her eyes that Elsa knew would turn the situation into a heated fist fight. Which would then become a bloodbath.
"Honeymaren!" she calls, catching the Northuldra woman's attention.
Honeymaren pivots her head in Elsa's direction and her wide eyes fill with relief and hope upon noticing the Fifth Spirit.
"Elsa! Oh thank the spirits, you have to stop them! They're trying to cut down our trees!" she cries.
Elsa frowns at this and steps in next to her; close enough that their hands brush.
"Ah, there you are, Snow Queen. I've been looking for you, I have ideas to help improve your little village and make it more…civilized," Lord Edward tells her, gesturing with a hand to the small expanse of the Northuldra village.
Never in her life has Elsa hated the word 'civilized' as much as she does now. The man is implying that her people are savages and it sends a heated shiver down her spine. It pools in her chest with a mix of indignation and resentment.
She takes a deep breath to calm herself before folding her hands and pushing her shoulders back, channeling every bit of the queen she was trained to be into this confrontation.
"Thank you for your consideration, Lord Edward, but we won't be needing any adjustments to the village. The Northuldra have lived in this Enchanted Forest much longer than you've walked this Earth and their ways are not to be tampered with," Elsa warns him.
She feels Honeymaren shift beside her and it takes all her willpower to not to look at her.
Lord Edward's expression twists into that of annoyance. Whether it's aimed at her or what she just told him, Elsa doesn't care. Regardless of his next move, she vows to stand her ground. She takes comfort in the fact that she has experience dealing with men acting like overgrown toddlers in politics enough that she could skate mental circles around him.
"Your Majesty, I assure you that my men and I will be able to help this savage village have a brighter and more civilized future. I'm sure you've thought the same once you've left your cozy castle to live in these…huts," Lord Edward explained.
Elsa resists the urge to scrub her hands over her face. This man is testing her already waning patience.
"Savages?!" Honeymaren growls beside her.
Elsa notices her hands curl into fists and, before she can react, Honeymaren lunges at Lord Edward with a right hook.
Just as she's about to make contact with the nobleman's jaw, a British soldier yanks her backwards by the hair. Another rushes over to grab her arms and kick the back of her legs until she's immobilized and on her knees.
The cold, calculating gaze Lord Edward stares at Honeymaren which sends shivers down Elsa's spine.
"Bring her to me," he orders, voice low and dangerous.
A soldier yanks on Honeymaren's hair again, causing her to give a soft hiss. She struggles in their grip.
Elsa slides between the soldiers and Lord Edward, blocking their path.
Now facing Edward, she glares up at him.
His lips twist with what she perceives as annoyance before he matches her glare with an unbridled, narrow gaze of his own.
"Your business is with me, Lord Edward," Elsa sharply reminds him. "Let her go."
He's quiet for a moment, devious eyes flickering from her to Honeymaren's prone form.
Elsa's heart hammers in her chest. She can hear the blood rushing in her ears as she waits for the shoe to drop. The suspension is stifling. Whatever happens next could potentially cross the line of a bloodbath that calls for an outright war.
The battle over thirty years ago with Arendelle was more than enough and Elsa is positive that a war with one of the world's most formidable countries would decimate the Northuldra.
Lord Edward's lips curl. His eyes move back to her and Elsa's not surprised to see the flicker of fury there.
"If I let her go she'll try and attack me again," he growls, fingers twitching on the hilt of the gun at his side.
Panic fills Elsa at his implication, but she smothers it promptly. This is a delicate situation that can forfeit Honeymaren's life if she isn't careful.
"No, she won't," Elsa insists without glancing back at Honeymaren. "If you let her go she'll go on her merry way and we won't have to think about this encounter ever again. I'll make sure of it."
In the corner of her eye she recognizes movement before she hears a sharp hiss.
"No! Elsa—"
Elsa cuts her off by holding up a hand. Her lips press into a thin line as she trains her determined gaze on Lord Edward and the soldiers standing behind him.
"That doesn't sound promising," Edward replies skeptically. His eyes narrow when he looks from Honeymaren to Elsa.
"Fine, then I have a proposition for you," Elsa says diplomatically. She knows that Honeymaren won't agree with what she's about to offer, but she doesn't have much of a choice.
Intrigued, Lord Edward shifts more fully toward her. "I'm listening," he drawls.
Elsa takes in a deep breath to calm her nerves. "You let her go and extract your soldiers from our village and I'll meet with you tomorrow morning to give you your long awaited tour of the Enchanted Forest," she proposes.
Lord Edward taps a finger on his chin in thought. The tension that sits in the silence is enough to suffocate her but she stands her ground, waiting for his response. Just when she thinks he's about to decline her offer, he lets out a loud bellow.
"Very well, Your Majesty," he replies with a crooked grin. He then takes a step back and snaps his fingers at the two soldiers holding Honeymaren.
They release her, but not without hissing something in her ear. Elsa can't quite catch it, but notices that it makes Honeymaren haphazardly lash out with a closed fist. She misses as they chuckle deviously and side-step her. She stumbles backwards, cracking her head on a sharp boulder.
Elsa gasps and races to her. She kneels at her side and cradles her now bleeding head in her lap as Honeymaren regains her bearings.
"Are you alright?" she whispers once the soldiers have shuffled their way out. She brushes the hair out of Honeymaren's face so she can get a closer look at the cut. She breathes a sigh of relief when she realizes that it's not deep and will only need some cleaning.
"Yeah, now that that jerk is gone," Honeymaren growls.
Elsa sighs. She wants to chide her friend for being so brash but also knows this isn't the time nor the place. And, knowing Honeymaren's nature, it would go through one ear and out the other. Especially while she's heated.
"Come on, let's get you cleaned up," she suggests instead.
Elsa helps Honeymaren to her feet and gingerly guides her away from the crowd. It's not long before she arrives at her tent, using an icy gust of wind to open the door.
Once inside, Elsa urges the injured woman to sit on her bed before gathering a basin with warm water and a towel.
"Shit," Honeymaren murmurs when her hand falls away from the side of her head, covered in blood. "Who knew giant rocks could be so hard? I don't recommend falling on them."
Her attempt at lightening the mood makes Elsa laugh softly.
"Noted. Now, stay still. It's not as bad as you think, but I would still see the healer to make sure you don't have a concussion," Elsa suggests.
"It's just a little bump on the head, I don't really need to—" Honeymaren cuts off when she notices the stern look from Elsa, then sighs and looks away. "Fine."
Elsa gives her a satisfied smile. She dips the washcloth into warm water and wrings it out before gingerly pressing it to her head.
Honeymaren flinches away with a hiss. A hand flails up to push it away. "That stings!"
Elsa twists her lips and nearly rolls her eyes. "I barely touched you. Now stop being so dramatic, come here," she chides then cups her chin to gain purchase and brushes the cloth against the cut instead.
Honeymaren sucks in a breath and closes her eyes this time. Now that she's staying still, Elsa can focus on cleaning the dried blood from her skin.
"You know, with your history as a queen, I didn't take you for someone who knows how to treat wounds," Honeymaren says as she lets Elsa clean the cut.
Elsa pauses and bites her lip. "Well, thanks to Anna and her adventurous self," she tells her with both fondness and frustration. "I had to learn quickly. Otherwise the royal physician would never get a day off."
Honeymaren hums, "I see."
Elsa dips the washcloth into the basin to re-wet it. She doesn't look at Honeymaren when she continues, her voice taking on a somber tone, "I also did as much research as I could on every possible injury that ice could inflict, including frostbite and hypothermia, and how to treat them."
"Oh…" Is all Honeymaren says when Elsa returns to her.
They sit in silence as Elsa works. She tucks a few wet strands behind Honeymaren's ear to clear the way so she could look at the cut more fully. "It's not deep," she tells her, breaking the silence. "And the bleeding has already stopped."
"You mean I won't need any stitches doctor?" Honeymaren inquires with a teasing lilt in her tone.
Elsa lightly smacks her arm with the back of her hand before she moves away to drop the washcloth into the bin.
"No, but…you'll need this," she replies, returning to Honeymaren's side. Then whispers, "hold still, this won't take long. I promise."
Honeymaren tenses a little when she gently takes hold of the bottom of her chin again. The woman then closes her eyes and seems to relax after taking a deep breath. Elsa channels her magic into her freehand and uses the tips of her fingers to coat the shallow cut with ice.
Honeymaren gasps sharply at the unexpected chill.
Elsa promptly pulls away.
"There, that should do it," she says.
Honeymaren blinks her eyes open and touches the ice covering the cut. "It won't melt?" she asks, eyes widening in awe.
Elsa shakes her head and forces back a smile. "No, it's permafrost. So it won't melt unless I tell it to," she informs her.
Honeymaren untucks her hair from behind her ear then folds her hands into her lap and stares down at them.
Elsa worries her bottom lip. She wrings her hands then wraps her arms around herself. She looks anywhere but at Honeymaren.
The silence stretches between them and the tension is palpable.
After what feels like hours, Honeymaren is the first to move. She releases a pained sigh and slides off of Elsa's bed. "Well, I should get going and have Aasta look me over," she says.
Elsa stiffens, heart hammering in her chest. Her pulse thrums in her ears. As she watches Honeymaren begin to make her way to the door, she impulsively catches her by the wrist. The other woman swivels on her toes with wide and confused eyes.
"What are you—?"
"I'm sorry," Elsa apologizes in a rush. Her breath escapes her in soft pants, "I shouldn't have shut you out. Your concern wasn't because you didn't believe in me but because you were afraid. And…I of all people know what it's like to fear the outcome of the unknown. I won't apologize for trying to keep the peace to the best of my ability, but you didn't deserve the cold shoulder."
When she's finished she lets go of Honeymaren's wrist. Her cheeks feel hot and she realizes that she's embarrassed by her own actions. It's ironic that she thought that she wouldn't have a chance to fall back into bad habits once she started living in the forest.
Honeymaren turns to face her. She's quiet and her expression is passive. The only way Elsa can determine how she's feeling is by the small frown on her face. Then, after a moment, she steps closer and takes Elsa's hands in her own.
"I know you didn't mean to shut me out," Honeymaren tells her. Her hands are so soft and warm against Elsa's chilly ones and it's all she can do to not melt into the touch. "I'm sorry too. I know you're stubborn, probably more stubborn than I was ever prepared for. But instead of working against you I should have worked with you so that we could figure this out together." She pauses to take a deep breath. Her hands fall away and back to her sides. "Elsa, you're my friend and I care about you. I just don't want to see you get hurt."
Elsa's breath catches and her eyes well with tears against her will. "I care about you too," she admits.
Honeymaren's expression grows soft and something else flickers in her gaze that Elsa can't quite decipher. Before she can linger on the thought longer, she's pulled into a tight hug.
Elsa freezes in shock, but the hesitation doesn't last long before she finds herself returning the gesture. Her eyes fall closed and she allows herself to breathe in Honeymaren's scent; the familiarity of the faint campfire smoke mixing with the earthiness of the forest brings her a sense of calm that she hasn't felt in days.
They remain there for a while, in the middle of Elsa's tent, within a tight embrace until one of them dares to move.
Elsa pulls away first, stepping back a fraction to give Honeymaren space. The other woman's eyes are still closed and her body sways in Elsa's direction as they part.
Honeymaren lifts her head and sighs, opening her eyes to stare up at the ceiling. "Promise me something?" she whispers, a lone tear trails down her cheek.
Elsa resists the urge to reach out with her thumb to brush it away.
"What is it?" she asks instead.
Honeymaren shifts on her feet. Her hands clench and unclench; a nervous habit Elsa's picked up on ever since she befriended the Northuldra woman. After another long minute, she finally lowers her gaze to meet Elsa's.
Elsa is surprised to find tears welling in her molten brown eyes; but, despite this, there's a stubborn fire igniting in her gaze. This realization makes her both uncomfortable and in awe.
"Promise me that no matter what happens, you won't sacrifice yourself for our safety. Promise me, Elsa," Honeymaren implores, her trembling. "Look at me and tell me that you won't."
Elsa's heart plummets.
She forces herself to keep eye contact.
The words roll out easier than Elsa expects, and that concerns her.
"I won't. I promise," she whispers.
Even though Honeymaren relaxes enough to push back the tears and wipe her eyes, Elsa already feels like she's betraying her.