A/N: Terribly sorry for the slight delay, had some stuff to take care of IRL. I told you there would be another chapter theme: Westward by Two Steps From Hell it is! I recommend listening to it towards the end of the chapter, you'll know when ;). Otherwise, let's go!
Time
The boat vibrated and hummed under the small waves. Elsa had grown accustomed to the incessant creaking and squeaking of the wood, especially when they were covered by the choirs and cries of the crew.
The sounds had scared her at first. Every startle of the ship would send her to the roof in fear, though getting accustomed to sailing had taken less time than she expected.
Such a racket would usually have distracted her away from reading or working, but she had finally taken a liking to the slightly out of sync symphony that was in full swing outside her cabin. They had reached England a bit earlier that same day. The entire trip had taken less than a week; the chief navigator said that good winds could bring it down to four days.
But it didn't matter to Elsa. She had had time to go over some important matters, study and prepare her case, learn more about her sailing crew. She even could crunch in one or two training sessions for Garret. He hadn't asked for them, but she saw how bored he looked, standing on the deck with his hands behind his back as he silently observed far into the distance.
She straightened her back against the chair with a satisfied sigh.
Behind her, the sun rays filtering through the rear window gave the small office a comforting aura, reflecting off the strips of varnished walls with a crimson shine that swallowed the entire space. The touches of brown patched green here and there had appeared once they'd crossed the border and started sailing in the Thames.
She'd spent a few minutes that afternoon simply observing the shore as they passed village after town, women doing their laundry and children splashing around in the shallows, cows grazing in the midlands and sheep jumping around. The views had filled her with wonder.
She stood to the window and clasped her hands before her.
There were houses now, her eyes could catch the corners of their roofs. Few and far between, but they warranted a stone wall on the sides. Her cabin was a bit lower than the rest of the ship, making her view a bit too obtuse for her to see much beyond the shore, but she enjoyed it nonetheless.
She was in foreign land. A territory that wasn't the one that had seen her grow up. In a strange sense, she was excited. In another, she was intimidated. This was a new experience. She would have to be careful, but her heart raced at the potential discoveries she'd make, at the idea that she would finally get to explore London, even if it was for a couple of days. She'd read about the city at times, and one word always came back: big.
Arendelle was, by all accounts, a minuscule country. She couldn't wait to see what a metropolis looked like.
Someone knocked at the door. Three ups, two downs. She knew who that was and smiled softly.
"You may enter," she said while turning around.
Garret stepped inside with slow movements, closing the door behind him as carefully as he could considering he was transporting a tray. "Hello, Your Majesty. Do you have a moment for tea?"
"Always. Please, take a seat."
Their teas had become a part of her day she came to look forward to. Sometimes they talked. Sometimes they didn't. Sometimes they shared opinions. Sometimes they played a game—cards or chess usually. She discovered she was terrible at those, but he had let her win one or two. Sometimes she'd read a book and he'd just train on his ice-making.
She enjoyed the company.
Garret let the tray down on the table and opened the teapot. "I'm afraid they didn't have hot chocolate this time either." He poured two cups and waited for her to sit before he settled in place.
"To my great disappointment, once again," Elsa answered with a chuckle as she delicately lifted her cup to her lips. "Thank you. A shame that cocoa trees don't grow on water."
"I tried to throw a few seeds. They had a hard time taking root."
Elsa quietly giggled and sipped some tea. "What have you been up to today? I hardly saw you on deck."
Garret's face flushed immediately. "I… I was on the mast."
She narrowed her eyes and furrowed her brows.
What was he doing up there?
"I tried to help with the wind orientation," he explained when he saw the confusion plastered on her face, bringing a single finger to scratch his right cheek. "They told me to hold out a finger."
Then she remembered the chief navigator complaining about a failed training, a torn sail, and a course change.
"Was that you?" she asked incredulously.
He nodded without a wordy, his eyes darting everywhere but on her. She brought her cup to the table and stared at him blankly.
He had asked for ways he could help around the ship; he had been allowed to try. Not very useful, she was told. She guessed the skills of a ground soldier didn't transfer well into a big boat. Elsa had contained so many laughs seeing him trip on every single rope he could find on the ground she didn't know if she could one day laugh normally again.
But this one was a bit too much.
"Can I?" she asked, not wanting to embarrass him more than necessary without his approval.
Garret sighed and let his head fall with a grunt. "Go ahead."
Elsa heartily gave into light but honest laughs, immediately lifting her hand to her mouth. It was one of those laughs that shook her entire body and were hard to stifle, like when Anna tickled her or when she'd see her impersonate Einar or Kristoff.
She realized quickly she was going to start wheezing soon if she didn't stop. Her chuckles died down progressively and she swept the single tear that zigzagged down her cheek with a gentle finger.
"I apologize. I couldn't hold it."
"Can't blame you," Garret said as he sipped his own tea, keeping a stiff upper lip. "I'm used to people laughing at my expense now. What a cruel world I live in."
"Aaaw. I'm sure it's not as bad as you make it out to be."
"You literally just finished laughing at me."
"Who, me? No, I would never do that."
"That wouldn't be nice."
"No, it wouldn't."
"Only bad people would do that."
"Most certainly."
She drank a bit of her tea again, her eyes not leaving his. Garret's right eyebrow was raised, but so were the corners of his lips. Elsa found herself eagerly smiling back. She liked how playful they'd gotten with each other. It was refreshing not to take everything seriously.
"To bad people," Garret said. The two cups lifted simultaneously.
"This has to be the worst toast I've ever participated in."
"Good thing nobody's watching."
"You are."
"Do I count?"
Elsa pensively leaned back in her chair, her eyes lifted to her cabin's roof. "I guess you don't."
The teacups were emptied and found their way to the table once more. Elsa's mind went back to the prisoners the entire voyage was about. Most of Hopkin's Blessed had been taken on the first boat, but the thinking heads were on her ship, on the lower deck.
"Speaking of bad people… Did you not want to talk to Roger? Confront him?" she asked.
Garret's gaze didn't harden as much as she expected it to. "I don't. He spent an entire year tracking me before he lost me. I know what he thinks, and I know he'll never change his mind. Also, if I have to be honest—" He stared outside, his eyes empty. "—he looks a lot like his brother, especially with that stupid eyepatch on. When I see his face, I only remember that night—and I don't want to, not anymore. It also reminds me of the day my father killed that Liam bastard. He embodies everything I want to bury by coming here."
"That makes sense. So, when you went there, it was to prevent your father from going through with it?"
That was the only detail he hadn't evoked. She could certainly see how he'd have wanted to cut the circle of hatred.
Garret fiddled with his cup. "I'm sorry if this sounds cold, but no. He had just killed my mother. She was my whole life. My father just beat me to it. Without him, I would have done it. I just happened to take the blame. I know it's not very glorious…"
Elsa was disappointed. She'd held the hope he'd been past that. Then she imagined someone doing the same to Anna. How Roger had almost done it to Garret himself and how she didn't know what she would have done had he succeeded. The rage she felt immediately boiling inside her chest told her a question like that couldn't be so easily answered.
"I… I can't really say I agree, but I understand."
"I can't ask for more."
"So, Roger never saw your father?"
"No. I knew he'd go after him if he ever discovered what had really happened. He saw my armor anyway, so I figured I might as well keep him occupied on one target. And that's when I last saw my father. That's when we… were gobshites to each other."
Elsa noted the quick change in his behavior. She hadn't missed his tired face. Now that it was less and less frequent, it stood out clearly whenever she saw it. And it broke her heart a bit more each time.
"Hopefully that'll all be behind us very shortly," Garret added a little more cheerfully, his eyes perking up and regaining some light.
Elsa sighed and threw a look outside. "I wonder when we'll reach London."
Garret lifted an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
His confusion had her confused. Being confused by confusion was a first for Elsa. Had her phrasing been obscure?
"I don't know how long we still need to sail before we reach London," she explained.
He chuckled and stood from his seat. "We've been in London for the last forty minutes."
Her eyes widened and she barely prevented her jaw from falling to the ground. "Wait, really?"
That couldn't be true. The walls on the shore had gone on and on. The spaced-out houses, the long openings… Was that all the same city?
Garret pushed the cabin's door open, inviting her up the stairs. "Let me show you."
She followed him up, her heart drumming, and when they reached the very last step, Garret threw a large smile her way.
"Your Majesty? Welcome to the capital of the world."
Stepping outside took her breath away. In front of the ship, the waters were full to the brim with trading boats from the four corners of the world. Large and small, old and new. Some didn't even have sails. She had read about the advancement of steamboats. This was the first time she ever got to see any—and there were hundreds of them ahead. The flows of white clouds pumped out the central chimneys were thicker than she'd imagined, merging together in a huge white fog above their heads.
The port was enormous—it alone was bigger than Arendelle entire. Elsa quickly understood that what she thought were openings that led to vast clearings actually were shipbuilding docks. The sounds of hammers forging steel and thumping wood echoed from left and right along with the bells of commercial boats fighting for space in the overcrowded canal.
Elsa came to the ship's railing and let her forearms rest on the smooth surface. Beyond the water level, she couldn't discern the end of the sea of roofs. The blackened surfaces waved far into the land, not letting a single speck of green pierce through. The platforms just below the houses seemed to have even more people than the Thames did boats.
The mix of dresses, shaggy pants and formal hats was so eclectic it almost was elegant in its asymmetry. No one looked like their neighbor—immigrants and assorted workers of the world were amassed on the docks, leaving the ships they'd been working on, joining a crowd where long wool coats dangling off clean and clearly expensive shirts mixed with worn-out shoes and discolored trousers of proverbial squalor.
There was also an indescribable stench. The strange smell seemed to come from all directions, but a rapid overlook told her that the shadows of smoldering smog that rose far into the distance had something to do with it.
The images she had of the city almost always involved grisly secrets and stifling inequality—a place that gigantic couldn't satisfy everyone equally, she knew it—but she would have never guessed it was to this extent.
Garret stood behind her with his arms crossed. "This is London. You can find anything. The good, the bad, and everything in between. You name it, it's here. I was never a fan of it."
She stood straight, delicately bringing a strand of her hair behind her ear. "I was expecting it, somehow." Her eyes drifted to the left, and her surprise only grew when she noticed an immense construction site that seemed to envelop a baroque building and even larger metal structures sprouting from the ground and reaching into the river.
"That's poor old Westminster. And those are bridges that connect the palace to everything else," Garret explained, having obviously noticed her silent awe. "They've done a good job since last I was here. It was basically a ruin back then. They want to create bigger things everywhere ever since the palace burned down. It looks like they went all in. Next thing I know they're going to build a giant bell just for the sake of it."
Elsa scanned the palace. It was indeed beautiful, far more intricate and detailed than anything she'd ever seen—except maybe her own ice castle. Spirits, she missed it dearly.
"If the General Staff and some Lords of the House are the ones who are going to receive you—which I'm guessing is going to be the case—that's where you are headed."
"I'm not even seeing the Queen?"
"That would be a first. And believe me, that's a good thing. I only knew her reign for a year before I left, but she has a reputation for…being quite hard-headed."
That news was comforting—she was anxious enough as it was, adding an audience with the head of the British Empire herself would have killed her out of sheer nervousness. She wanted to state her case and go home.
Elsa turned back to the palace. The little sculptures on the corners were hard to see clearly from a distance, but her love for architecture and geometry soared in glee. She would get to see it closer.
"I'm happy I'm here," she said.
Garret looked confused. "You are?"
She faced him with a smile. "I am. I never had the chance to see anything new. I never expected the city to be a fairytale utopia, but this is different enough that it will in all cases be immensely enriching."
He answered with a beam of his own. "I guess so."
"Would you like us to go see your father as soon as we dock?" she asked. "My ambassador probably has everything ready for an audience tomorrow or the day after."
"I'll head out as soon as I kno—wait, us?"
"Indeed," Elsa said with a nod, her voice pitching down in anticipated disappointment. "Unless…you don't want me to come with you?"
Garret stared at her for a few moments with an eyebrow raised. "I wouldn't mind, but is it really something you want to do? You could visit the city while I'm away."
Elsa swept the view around her. "This is important to you. I'd like to be there. Also, I'll visit on the way. Like that, I'll have a local with me. Much more authentic."
Garret's gaze dropped to the floor, the air around him vibrating from a deep chuckle that sprang from his chest. "In that case, I have to warn you. Even if I let it out sometimes, I try to contain the slang whenever I'm near you. Out there, I'll have to unleash the Brit in me. I'm not sure you're ready for that."
"I'll manage."
"Your funeral. Another point: the dress looks incredible on you, but maybe a change of clothing is in order, majesty."
"Why? What would I wear?"
"Something that doesn't glitter would be nice. Otherwise, those dear Londoners are going to flock together like flies on—I mean, like bees on a flower."
"I know what you were going to say," Elsa chastised.
"I took it back!"
"Still thought about it."
"I'm not winning this, am I?"
Elsa giggled, the slight annoyance she felt at his—almost—use of vulgarity vanishing away. He had become much more considerate. "You tell me."
He took a long breath and lifted his hands in defeat. "I know when to quit. I still think it's necessary, Your Majesty. The generals probably think I'm long dead, but there's no need to attract unwanted attention on the deserter who happens to travel with a foreign ruler."
She had completely forgotten that aspect. He had deserted. He was an outlaw in his own country. That fact spoke volumes about how important coming back was to him.
"I'll be sure everything is in order when we dock," he continued, his smile unwavering. "We're there in about ten minutes."
The ship had indeed stopped moving, the port staff scurrying about to tie the bow and the stern to the port.
He's very casual about this, she thought. If he stayed by her side, he wasn't going to have a lot of issues. Hopefully.
"Very well," she said. "I'll be ready in no time."
Elsa walked down the sturdy platform.
Garret was waiting at the end of the pier, his back pressed against a wooden pole as he silently observed the endless stream of covered heads and disheveled hair that passed by him. The sound of her heels made him spin around.
"How do I look?" she asked.
He examined her dress for a second. She had chosen a simple deep blue travel garb, a lot less elaborate than her usual ice robe. She had been thorough: no sign of ice anywhere on her body. Even the small crystals that kept her hair in a neat braid had disappeared. She had tied it in a bun now, not unlike how her mother had liked it.
She also brought a small purse; she hoped it made her look more formal that way. She wasn't overly fond of her new outfit, but it was the less flashy she could put together.
"Discreet enough but ravishing nonetheless," Garret answered with a wide grin.
"I know you're just telling me what I want to hear."
"I mean it, though."
"You're using another definition of mean."
"Who, me? No, I would never do that."
"Uh-huh."
Garret slowly bowed and extended a hand to help her off the pier. "I really mean it."
Elsa raised her own hand to meet his, a sly tone taking over her voice almost involuntarily. "I'll believe you. This once."
"My deepest gratitude. What did your envoys say?"
"Audience in two days, but the Board wants to see me tomorrow. They apparently didn't even know Arendelle existed."
"Typical. That's the entitled brass for you. Now; my father lived a few blocks away from here, and I don't see him having a reason to move out. But the city is big, and the people are weird. Please do your best to stick to my side. If anything bothers you, let me know. Shall we go?"
Elsa nodded confidently. "On your heels."
He smiled and walked, Elsa following in his steps. The deeper they delved into London, the more crowded the streets became. Fortunately, Garret's silhouette shouldered a way through the more congested areas for her to cross and was easy to keep track of, her eyes going back to him whenever they had drifted to admire her surroundings.
Everything about London was extreme. From the number of carriages that drove and dodged and evaded each other and the myriad of pedestrians crossing the paved road that was as large as Arendelle's main body of water to the cries and shouts and yells that emerged from all sides at once in a messy cacophony. From the flawless gold and copper façades of the main avenue's shops that shone brighter than the falling sun to the gritty and muddy underpasses that weaved together in a labyrinth of infamy, the Capital was fascinating, intimidating, exhilarating, overwhelming.
Elsa admired the beauty of the architecture, but her heart clenched a little more with each sitting beggar on the sidewalk; the poverty-stricken neighborhoods were probably riddled with people who just needed a helping hand.
She brought her eyes back to her traveling partner a couple of feet in front of her. He too threw saddened glances here and there, but he was mostly busy giving her a few words describing the milestones they encountered and sending away the many street vendors that harassed every single passerby.
At one point, she noticed a little brown-haired girl standing on her own, an almost empty cup at her feet, singing a simple familiar melody. The poor soul was covered in dirt and mud from the knees down, but her smile was so bright that Elsa stopped walking altogether. The girl looked everyone in the eye, without a single demand, without a single plea. Nobody paid her any attention—some didn't look like they even heard her. Her smile and her voice were all she had. And she was being ignored.
Elsa approached her and listened to her for a minute. Every other sound faded away in the background: the footsteps, the wheels, the clamor, and the ruckus. Everything but the crystalline voice of a lost child that didn't find a better way to get by than by spreading a beautiful tune. She liked that melody: it was very close to the one Garret had hummed many times. The vision was enough to bring Elsa to the brink of tears.
The girl noticed her and immediately interrupted her singing, her eyes growing fearful. Elsa quickly realized how her staring might have been wrongly interpreted.
"Don't worry," she comforted immediately, blinking back the humid tingling in her eyes. She ruffled inside the small purse and pulled out a silver trinket. It wasn't much, but it would help. "Here, this is for you."
The girl's eyes couldn't have gotten bigger without popping out their socket. They darted from the small bibelot to Elsa's face. "For me?"
Elsa grinned and lightly brought herself at the little girl's eye-level. "Yes. For you. And this—" She opened her palm under her coat to hide it from any prying eyes, a flurry of snowflakes spinning and condensing into a small crystal flower. "—this is for you, too."
The girl delicately took the small ornament and turned it between her fingers, but her eyes rested on the flower more insistently, her mouth gaping in awe before contorting into a broad smile. "Oh, thank you! Thank you, Madam!" She picked her cup up and darted away into the alley behind her, her bright grin still shining. She threw one last "Thank you!" before disappearing around the corner.
Elsa smiled tenderly despite the nagging feeling that many more like her would have needed her help. Unfortunately, it was far beyond her capabilities to resolve such a complex matter, in a foreign country no less.
The single steps she took on her own were all she could manage. It was something. Little gestures were better than nothing.
She stood back up and realized with a start that Garret wasn't at her side. She hadn't even notified him that she had stopped.
Oh, no. He's going to worry now… That wasn't very smart, Elsa.
As much as she liked the discovery, wandering London's streets alone wasn't an enticing prospect. She scanned the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of red hair dashing around. Her heart rate was already speeding up.
I'll find him. I don't have to panic.
There were moments she loathed her long years alone more than others. This was one of those. She couldn't throw a frozen signal to the skies. Garret would see it, but so would half the city. What could she do?
"I see you're lost, wee lass."
That wasn't Garret's voice; someone was standing behind her. She turned to face the stranger and fought the urge to whirl back around from the stench of his breath. The patches of filth and the lack of teeth were unsettling, but she had seen him earlier. He was one of the beggars a little up the street and he was way too close for comfort. She took a step back, her hand charging magic on reflex.
"I'm fine, thank you."
The shaking in her voice was a dead giveaway.
His smile grew larger, and while his suave tone wanted to sound reassuring, the fact that his eyes were glued to her purse was not a good sign. "I don't want to be a bugger, just proposing my humble services. In exchange for those shiny pieces in there."
His hand drifted forward, aiming for the purse. She hid it as much as she could, not wanting to resort to force if it wasn't necessary. "I'll be fine on my own, thank you."
"Now," he said, his voice more menacing. "You can give me that purse and I'll disappear. Or you can resist, and it'll get ugly."
Elsa would have retreated a bit more, but she envisioned how fragile she would appear if she pushed herself against a wall. She stood her ground instead, staring daggers at the stranger.
"I will not ask you again. Leave me—"
The moment she was about to call for her ice, the sound of a more familiar deep inflection emerged from behind the robber.
"Y'know, mate. There's a brilliant story that's told around these parts." Garret appeared next to him, putting a firm hand on his shoulder. "They say that there was once a cunt that walked this street bothering the toffs. One day he bothered the wrong toff and was told to piss off. He thought he was in fact right and kept pushing anyway. Except the toff in question could impale him with her bare hands. That poor cunt never walked the street again."
The stranger backed off slightly, his eyes dashing from her to Garret's quiet and smiling face.
Elsa didn't recognize that expression. It wasn't the tired and fake grin, nor the goofy smirk. It was calm, small enough to feel like a courtesy, but it held a silent wrath that was new on him. His grip around the bandit's shoulder visibly tightened.
"All—All right, mate," the wannabe robber yelped with a wince. "I'm sorry. I didn't know she had a guy."
"Weirdly, that sentence isn't helping your case. Think over that story, and what incredibly deep meaning lies in there. And while you're at it, piss off."
The robber-beggar apologized once more—his eyes however were not apologizing at all—and moved away. Garret's gaze didn't leave him until he disappeared in the crowd before it came back to Elsa.
"Terribly sorry about that, Your Majesty," he said, his traits taking a softer—and less intimidating— expression. "I lost you out there."
She shook her head. Her pulse was gradually slowing down. "It was my fault. I saw a little girl, and… I should have warned you."
"Everything all right?" he asked, the caring tint of his words not going past her ears.
"I'm okay," she said. She was a bit shaken, but he was there.
"I'm glad you didn't smite him to the heavens, but good job on getting ready for it," Garret said on a joking tone. "He probably deserved it."
Elsa chuckled. "We saved ourselves the pain of explaining that to the whole street. We're on a tight schedule anyway."
"That we are. Speaking of which, my father's place is not far. There's an entire block full of Army reserved houses. I suggest you stay at my side for this time?"
She nodded in agreement.
The way he stood up for her unapologetically was something that she was starting to learn. Garret struggled with his own self-worth, with his own thoughts, but he had always known how to fight for something.
She had shown him how to do that for himself, and he was teaching her how to redirect her own strength outside.
As they started walking once again, her hand lifted and lightly grabbed the hem of his cloak. That way she wouldn't drift off to spirits-knew-where. He apparently felt the gentle tug and quickly threw a glance at her fingers, then at her face before earnestly returning the smile she was giving him.
Elsa had a feeling she could ask him now. But first, she had to stop her fingers from shaking.
"Garret?"
"Hmm?"
"You know…Once we're done with everything…"
"Yes?"
"Einar is going to become my advisor. So, that means someone else will become the Guard's Captain."
"Seems fair."
"And that means someone else else will become Lieutenant."
"I'm following."
"Umm. Would you…"
"Would I what?"
Elsa inhaled sharply. "WouldyoubeinterestedincomingbacktoArendelle?" she finally blurted out, the sound of her fast beating heart taking over her ears.
"Coming back where?" he simply answered.
"Wha—? Oh, Arendelle. Co-Coming back to Arendelle."
"Coming back to Arendelle? How?"
"Well, with me, on the ship... Since I'm going back, if you—you're doing that on purpose, aren't you?"
"Guilty," he said with a laugh. He kept his eyes forward, his lips still curled up. "As a Lieutenant of the Guard?" She responded with a weak nod. "Can I…have a day? Think about it?"
Elsa let her breath out. It wasn't a yes, but it wasn't a no either. "Of course."
The sun had disappeared a few minutes ago, the lights of blazing oil and wood illuminating the streets. The neighborhood was a lot calmer.
"It's here," Garret said, his slight tremor betraying his nervousness.
Elsa followed his pointed finger. They had reached a rather unspecial door, with a brass sign on the left of the stone entrance.
Gen-Brig. Cart.
Was that his address?
Garret scoffed. "Brigadier, huh? Took him long enough."
It wasn't his address.
Elsa roughly knew the ranks and what importance they held. But everything became more or less blurry above the grade of Colonel. "Is that a lot?" she asked.
Garret tilted his head. "It is. He probably commands over five thousand men. The full title is Brigadier-General—the equivalent in the Navy would be a Commodore. He's basically just below the highest-ranking officers. The chuffed bastard."
Elsa suddenly felt a lot more intimidated by whom she was about to meet. She knew what a general was. Until then, he had been Garret's father in her head. Only now did she realize that they were going to knock at the door of someone who had under his orders more people than her entire capital city's population.
Garret himself was a knight, but it had been a long time since she'd thought about him that way. He was her friend, and he never actually behaved like a knight—however a knight was supposed to behave.
"And what does Cart mean? Is it a sub-rank?"
"That's our last name. Well, most of it. We are the Carters. My father's called Alastair."
He probably was aware what her last name was—it was plastered everywhere on those portraits back home—but she had never asked him about his. She still had a lot to learn in terms of social interactions.
Garret readied his closed fist, letting it hover inches before the door without making contact.
Is he hesitating?
"Something wrong?" she asked, her mind filling with worry.
His hand drifted down slowly. "I don't know if this is a good idea," he said. "I…I probably should leave him alo—"
"Garret," she called. He turned a shaking glance at her. She understood his hesitation. Once again, his guilt was freezing him in place. But he needed to walk forward. "I'm here. He owes you an apology. And I'm sure he'll be happy to see you."
His shoulders sunk and he released a quick breath. "All right, here goes."
He knocked sharply. Muffled steps traversed the wood, and when the door opened, it was to the face of an unknown middle-aged woman wearing what clearly was a servant's garment.
"Good evening. Master Carter doesn't have appointments scheduled tonight."
"I believe he'll make an exception this time. Please tell him that Garret is at the door."
The servant examined them both, her eyes narrowing when they fell on the soldier. She suddenly inhaled and disappeared in a hurry, not bothering to close the door behind her. The sound of climbing stairs was quickly followed by the reverse trip's commotion.
In a split second, Garret straightened his back, glued his feet together, and lifted his chin.
The steps drew closer, and soon enough a man she assumed was his father appeared. He looked nothing like his son—he was slightly taller, a lot bulkier. His neatly groomed beard and dark hair were impressively preserved for someone she estimated was in his late fifties.
He was wearing a simple uniform, one that seemed much more suited to civilian life than to the harsh domain of command, but on the shoulders were one crown and three pips, similar to the ones on Garret's dagger.
He panted heavily—he had come as fast as he could. His eyes rested on Garret.
"Good Lord above." Now Elsa could see—or rather, hear—that he was his father. While their accents were slightly dissimilar, they had the exact same voice. "Garret."
"Sir. Long time."
Did he just call him 'Sir?'
They stayed silent, watching one another. She couldn't exactly tell because of the dim lighting around them, but Alastair's eyes twinkled a bit more—they were tearing up. After a very uncomfortable minute, Garret cleared his throat and shifted on his spot.
"You might want to pay your respects. This is Her Majesty, Queen Elsa of Arendelle."
Alastair snapped back to reality, shook his head and only then seemed to notice Elsa. She lightly bowed in greeting. He mirrored her gesture with surprising grace.
"I am terribly sorry, Your Majesty. It has been a while since I've last seen my son. To what do I owe this pleasure?"
Elsa dismissively waved her hand. "Don't worry about that. This is not official, I merely am here to accompany Garret."
Alastair raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
"Yes," Garret answered. "Can we…go inside, please?"
Alastair fumbled with his words. "Well…I…Of course! Come in, come in."
Elsa contained a look of surprise. Under the burly exterior, Alastair was as much of an awkward dork as Garret.
But more importantly, was that a reunion of a father and son who hadn't seen each other in three years?
Putting the question in a corner of her mind—different people, different ways to react—she stepped inside, Garret following closely.
The house wasn't glitzy, but it was elegant. The predominant colors were dark with tan and gold highlights, creating an interesting contrast to the trim painting of ashen pinks, tans, pale blues, and black detailing. The combination of colors was repeated throughout the entire corridor. The tall, heavy, varnished wood doors had as the top panel, colored glass panes of amber, blue and pink, in a geometric design. On either side of the main doors were smaller, longer versions of the glass windows. They had molded surrounds of painted wood with bulls-eye corner blocks and decorative accents on the baseboard. The doorknobs, plates, and hinges were of a brass identical to the identification plaque outside.
They reached a small sitting room. The fireplace, situated on the interior wall, had a tall mantel of birchwood with turned spindles flanking a rectangular mirror supporting a tapered hood. The hearth was set with dark patterned bricks of very chiseled designs with light blue and white floral tiles surrounding the firebox.
The fine tapestry glowed with a bloodred that contrasted wonderfully with the rest of the room.
Elsa checked on Garret—he had been completely mute ever since they had gotten inside.
What is he waiting for?
"You have very good tastes," she complimented in the meantime. She hoped he would speak up soon, she was horrible at small talk.
"Thank you, Majesty. Might I interest you in a cup of tea?"
The still nameless servant, who had stayed close the entire time, dashed out the room as soon as Elsa nodded. Alastair pulled a chair for her to sit on.
"I certainly did not expect a visit from a queen. I heard of your audience with the General Staff tomorrow. First of all, I'd wish to thank you for bringing my son back safely. I was…worried about him. Hopkin's Blessed has a certain reputation." He was about to take a seat himself when Garret lifted a hand. He hadn't moved from the room's entrance.
"Can we…talk a bit, sir? Alone?"
Alastair sighed heavily. "There's no need to call me Sir, Garret."
"All… All right. Can we talk? Please? I don't like how we left things."
That's a direct way of putting it.
Getting to the point. Anna always said it saved time and headaches. Elsa was slowly learning why.
"I…" Alastair's eyes rested on her. He looked like he wanted to follow his son, but the presence of a queen in his living room probably didn't help to motivate him.
"I will be fine," she reassured. "That is the reason we came. Please, take your time."
Alastair's traits relaxed in relief and he bowed respectfully. "Excuse me." He strode out of the room, Garret stepping aside to clear the way.
Just before he followed his father up the stairs, he threw one last glance to Elsa. She reflexively gave a thumbs-up, mustering the widest smile she could.
Garret chuckled softly, regaining some enthusiasm before climbing the staircase to the upper level too.
Elsa sat alone, the corner lamp's faint crackle her only company until the servant came back with a very fancy looking teapot resting atop a golden-colored tray. She didn't ask where Alastair and Garret had gone, but her lifted eyebrows had been communicative enough.
"Your tea, majesty," she said after a second.
"Thank you."
She disappeared as quietly as she had appeared with quick steps, leaving Elsa with her thoughts once again.
She sank into her chair. The room's silence was only troubled by the sounds of her blowing over and sipping the hot beverage. The delicate aroma came to tickle her palate, spreading across her mouth with a very gentle warmth that made her sigh in contentment—that woman knew how to make a good tea.
Elsa would have pricked up her ears in the hopes of catching some parts of what father and son were talking about above her, but Garret had been very evasive on the words they had exchanged the last time they had seen each other.
The only times you should be careful not to speak are when you're happy and when you're angry, she recalled her mother's favorite saying. Elsa smiled softly. Anna had taken a lot after her, and her words were more akin to general truths than moral lessons.
I miss you, Mama.
After long moments of lonely thoughts, Elsa spent the next hour letting her eyes wander around the paintings hanging on the walls. A few represented old towns that crumbled under the moss, some others ancient churches whose ashen bricks looked like they barely held together, but there was one portrait.
She stood closer, recognizing the faces drawn by a careful brush on the fine canvas. The first visage was identifiable even without his beard. The two tuffs of red hair his arms were encircling were that of a young man and his mother.
Alastair, Aileen and Garret Carter, Elsa read on the plaque. So that's how she was called.
Just above it, on small counters, several statues of wooden animals without a single speck of dust. Elsa remembered clearly Garret's mother's work. Alastair had kept them close to him.
She spent a few moments examining the painting. It wasn't very old, probably a few years at most. For it to capture their appearance so accurately, the painter had to be Alastair himself. Unless it had been done just before her death.
The drumming sound of footsteps descending the stairs reached her ear. Alastair entered the room, his expression pensive.
"Is Garret okay?" was Elsa's first reflex.
"He is, majesty," Alastair answered with a small grin. "I wanted to give him some time. He's reviewing some items left by his mother." He crossed his arms and lifted his eyes to the roof as if watching his son through the planks of woods and inches of concrete. "I still cannot believe he's alive and well. You seem like you're close if he trusts you to come with him. I assume you know his story and his powers?"
Elsa faced him and clasped her hands together. "I do."
Alastair let a heavy breath escape his lips. "I regret many things. I made mistakes with the boy. I forced expectations on him when he needed options. I know I wasn't a very good father."
She agreed silently. He had made mistakes. What could she say except that? He didn't have her sympathies, but least he was honest with himself about it.
"And yet, he comes here to ask me if I still see him as—" he stopped, giving his eyes a quick wipe with his sleeve. His voice had started quivering. "I wasn't very vocal with him growing up, and the only time I open my damn mouth... I don't deserve to be forgiven, much less to be asked forgiveness."
"He forgave you?"
"He said he'd try, but that he's aware I never had bad intent."
"But you apologized?"
"Of course, I did. We both did. I know I did wrong—and that an apology does nothing for him. I spent the last three years marinating on what I would have told him," Alastair explained with a curt sniff. The weight of tears seemed too much for his eyes, and soon enough a few drops of saline water were caught in his beard. He got a hold of himself a lot quicker than she would have thought possible, getting rid of both trails with two fast movements of his wrists. "I thank the Lord for the opportunity to simply speak to him, say what I should have said long ago. And I mustn't forget to thank you too. My apologies for this sorry display."
"No need. Garret has been…an immense help. I'm just here for a friend."
Alastair chuckled. "Despite craving the opposite, my boy has always been forced to be a loner, what with his abilities and everything. I'm glad you could be there for him." He raised his chin and closed his eyes. "Nothing like thinking your son dead to remind you of what you should have done, eh? I had never told him I love him."
Garret knocked at the door, pressing his right shoulder against the door frame. His face bore a neutral expression that made it look a lot like he was sleeping with his eyes open—Elsa could clearly see the slightly reddish contour around them. "I'm done with everything, Father. I think we'll be on our way. Her Majesty needs to rest for tomorrow, right?"
Elsa was a bit taken aback. "I…I mean—Sure."
"Very well, son. I… Let me escort you," Alastair said as he stood straighter.
"We'll be alright," Garret said with a lifted hand. "If you want, we can meet tomorrow at the ship. We can talk a bit more then."
"Um. All right. Sounds like a plan."
They left without any further word, simply waving to Garret's father on the patio.
The streets were empty, and they reached the port in no time. Elsa had fiddled with her fingers the entire way, not really knowing what to say. She had tried to come up with a way of questioning him without being too invasive. Had he come to a decision? Why had he wanted to leave in such a hurry? Had the trip been worth it?
"It went fine," Garret said, interrupting her train of thought and stopping at the end of the pier that led to the Arendellian-flagged ship.
She perked up, not even surprised that he knew what was whirling around in her mind. "It did?"
"Uh-huh. We emptied our bags. Said what we had to say. We managed to get rid of one or two regrets."
"And about your desertion?"
"They did think I was dead. That gives my father tomorrow to try to sort things out. He said he's confident he can come up with a solution."
Elsa let her shoulders relax and smiled. "I'm glad."
"So am I. That's one less thing to worry about. Now, there's one last business I have to take care of."
That was new. He hadn't talked to her about anything. She took a few seconds to reflect and came to the single possible conclusion.
"Oh!"
"It'll take one or two days at most," he continued. "But I have to go now. So, Your Majesty." He faced her and dropped his voice. "I know you're nervous about tomorrow. I don't think I can make you not be nervous. But I have to tell you that you're not the weak party in those negotiations."
She stared at him, wide-eyed. Where did that come from?
"You are Elsa Àrnadalr, Queen of Arendelle. The freaking strongest person I know. You just have to show them exactly that."
She couldn't contain a stupid grin spreading all over her face. "That's a bit over the top, don't you think?"
He rolled his eyes. "Just take the encouragement," he said, lifting a hand afterward. "And remember that strength. It's yours, all right? You got this."
She gave a small tap on his open palm, her determination invigorated. "I do. Thank you. Say hello for me."
Garret saluted. "Yes, Ma'am."
The return to London lasted a lot less than he'd thought. Luck had been on his side for once—only two trains reached the capital from Linton every week, and he had managed to catch the last. The port was busy as always; he looked up, searching for a purple and green flag. He located it in one quick sweep and walked towards it.
Garret was happy he finally got to say his goodbyes. The tomb was elegant, simple. Some of her statues were on it—she would have liked it that way. He hoped she could see the small gift he had left for her from wherever she was.
His father hadn't rebuilt the house. It was probably for the better, he didn't have a reason to. His life was in London now.
Garret caught a glimpse of said father in front of the ship, a strand of platinum blond hair waving with the wind just at his side. Elsa noticed him quickly and gave a timid wave as soon as he got close enough. The beautiful grin on her face was a good sign.
"Your Majesty. Father." They both returned the bow. "How did it go?"
"Fantastically!" Elsa exclaimed. "They accepted all of our conditions."
"The General Board acknowledged the immense service Arendelle has done for the crown," Alastair explained. "The conviction of its leader promises a long and fruitful future."
Why did he feel like his father had something to do with it?
"Really now?"
Elsa's slightly reddish face and pursed lips were the only indications of her contained excitement. "That is… what happened indeed."
"The Board wishes you safe travels and hopes to see you soon in less dire circumstances," Alastair said. He then curtsied, ending the official exchange. "Now, I have a few matters to discuss with you, Garret."
The way he had turned the conversation was a bit abrupt, but he could at least hear what he had to say—it looked serious. "Sure."
"Unfortunately, the Board refused to acknowledge your actions. You are a deserter and will be treated as one. However, there is a compromise. A knight can ask to leave the army whenever he wishes for it, but he must revoke his status if he leaves before the end of his appointed service. And for that—"
"—I must hand back the token."
Alastair nodded, the small half-wince he performed then filled with both melancholy and relief. "Exactly."
"Do I have to see the Board?"
"No, I will be enough."
Garret didn't even have to think about it. He reached inside his coat and pulled the copper dagger. Studying it for the last time, he imprinted the form of the letters on the blade in his mind. The same letters that had guided all his decisions for his first two decades.
Alastair Of Linton.
Aileen Of Linton.
AoL.
He reached out, the dagger on his palm. Alastair picked it up, examined it quickly, and stored it in a brown leather sheath before straightening his back.
"As of now, Garret of Linton, you are no longer a Knight of The Bath. All of the perks associated with the position are taken from you. You are also free of your duties for the Royal Army, and no martial action will be pursued against you. You cannot access military-reserved facilities anymore, nor ask to be assigned to a regiment, until you—if you so decide—join the ranks again. You are expected to uphold the values of the Empire in your civilian life, for you have been and will be a soldier at heart. Your country and Her Majesty Queen Victoria thank you for your service. Auspicium Melioris Aevi."
The two men shared one last sharp salute.
"That was quick," Garret said. This had only been official in name. They probably just wanted to get rid of him. "You really have the authority to do this?"
"I'm a Brigadier. If the generals tell me to do what I want, I do whatever the hell I want. Just needed to pass the message along somehow and get the dagger back."
"Good thing I kept it, then."
"Indeed. Anyway. What's your plan?"
Garret crossed Elsa's gaze. Her half-worried, half-confused face was adorable beyond words. He had taken his decision the moment she had asked, but he didn't want her to think it was something he'd be set over on a whim. "I received an invitation. I'm going to accept it."
Elsa's face brightened in a way that almost made him fawn. His father, on the other hand, slumped in disappointment.
"Oh."
Garret stepped closer. "I know we didn't have enough time. This isn't something we can go over in one conversation. But we'll get more. I'll come visit. And, if Her Majesty is okay with it…"
"Of course," Elsa said in a hurry. She knew where he was going. "You are most welcome to Arendelle, Sir Carter."
His father's eyes went from one to the other and he let a sigh escape from deep within his chest. "Thank you. I'll take you up on that."
They then stood awkwardly there, shifting on their feet. Garret had to say his goodbyes. Between his duties and the distance, he wouldn't see him for a few months, at the very least.
Come on, say something.
Before he could open his mouth, Alastair had brought his arms around him and almost crushed him in his embrace. "Be well, my son. Until next time."
The surprise vanished in an instant, and Garret returned the hug in earnest. "You too, old man."
With an awkward tap on their respective backs, they pulled away. Someone called from the boat—they were getting ready to depart. Elsa bowed one last time and climbed aboard. Garret followed in her steps, leaving his father on the dock.
"Garret…" he heard his voice call.
"Yes?"
Alastair stood proudly, a hand over his heart and a giant smile over his face. "Where in soft purple hue, the highland hills we view…"
His mother's song exploded in his ears. Her image passed before his eyes, her statues, her smile, her soft hands on his cheek, the warm feeling in her arms, the words of her song, beautiful and sad, driving him to the verge of tears once more. He chuckled, shook his head. Of course, he knew it by heart too.
"And the moon coming out in the gloaming."
Elsa opened the door and lightly stepped outside. She had missed her ice dress and her braid—wearing them back felt comfortable. Around her, the sea was buzzing with its dormant strength, its palpitating pulse steady and peaceful.
Garret leaned on the railing on the far end of the vessel, quietly observing the horizon. England was already a few days of sailing away—he had been uncharacteristically quiet during that time.
She walked, crossing the main deck with a few greetings to the crew and joined him, letting her arms rest at his right.
"Any cocoa trees sprouting up?" she said.
"I thought I saw one earlier. The guys called me crazy." They shared a laugh and a comfortable silence for a minute. "Thank you, Excellency."
"For what?"
"For everything. Because of you, I know I can heal. I know I will heal. I know what I need. I know what it's going to take."
"What will it take?"
He clasped his hands in his back and deeply inhaled. "Time."
Elsa let her head rest over the palm of her hand and smiled gently. "You have all the time in the world, now," she said.
"Does that mean I get extra-vacations as Lieutenant?"
She scoffed. "I didn't say that."
"Eh, worth a shot," he said with a shrug. Garret steadily gazed far ahead, letting the marine breeze that traversed the boat gently play with his hair. Elsa realized he'd never looked this… peaceful, at least when awake. "Today, I am who I am. With all my faults and my mistakes."
Elsa smiled softly. He had it. "Maybe you did a mistake yesterday, but you're still you. Tomorrow, you might be a tiny bit wiser and that will be you too."
"You know, there's something I've been dying to say for a while now," he added, his smile not diminishing in the slightest.
That was curious. Was it something he forgot at the port? It was a bit late for that.
"What is it?"
"It's something I couldn't say before. Something I think deserves more ceremonious circumstances, but I just can't hold it in anymore."
That was very curious. What was he thinking about?
"I'm listening," she said.
He lifted his hands and took a long breath.
"HERE I STAAAA—"
Her hands flew to his mouth in a frenzied panic. The entire crew was now looking at them with giant confused eyes, prompting her to throw an awkward laugh and Garret to cheerfully wave.
"Hoyodoin, maytes? Doyolikedelightofday?"
"Please, stop it!" Elsa hissed between her teeth.
He lifted his hands. "Aww wight."
She let go, still carefully eyeing him for any suspect signal. Though she was trying to look as mad as she could, that big stupid grin was making it very difficult not to smile back.
"I do have a question, though," Garret said.
"I swear to the spirits…"
"It's a serious one, I promise."
"Hmm. Shoot away."
"Is it… Is it ever easy?"
Elsa turned back to the sea. Only Anna had given her an answer. And it was such a perfect answer that she couldn't do anything but tell him exactly was she had heard.
"No, it doesn't. But, little by little, if you work on it, do your best, keep trying, keep believing… At some point, it'll feel like second nature. It doesn't become easy, you become better at it."
Garret released a strange sound—a mix of a sigh and a chuckle. "Long days ahead, huh?"
"Long, but hopefully beautiful."
"Sounds good to me. I may need a bit of support."
Why did have to specify that? He must have known she wouldn't let him down. "I'll be with you. I have a feeling Anna will too."
The weight of his right arm gently fell over her shoulders. "Sorry about this," he said slyly.
"What do you…"
Before she could feel embarrassed by the sudden contact, the amount of pressure gradually increased, and she noticed a very faint sparkling powder over the water. Was she turning sick? She thought she hadn't been…
Then, she understood.
He meant physical support.
Her eyes followed the trail of shiny dust, tracing back to her left side just under Garret. The specks of crystal were subliming ice. The left leg of his pant flowed freely, waving under the oceanic breeze, while his shoe rested on the ground, empty.
His prosthesis had vanished. She raised disbelieving eyes to his face; he looked at her with an eyebrow raised and proud cocky grin. If not for the entire crew bustling around, she would have hugged him right then and there.
"That's…That's…"
"A first step."
Elsa laughed lightly, wiping the budding tears off her eyes. "You couldn't have waited for us to reach Arendelle before? Now I have to lift you wherever you go."
"Wow, way to ruin the moment, majesty. I can create one if I want, but now that you said that I'm going to be the laziest slug ever."
"Let's not change good habits." The itch to hug him became too important, but she really couldn't indulge it. Not in public, at least. Instead of bringing him into both her arms, she settled for one going around his back. She gave him a light squeeze and rested her head atop his right shoulder. "I'm proud of you, Garret."
"Thank you."
The horizon seemed to be stitched with a silver line. She heard a metronomic murmur. The waves were merely snoozing, sluggish and slumbering in their liquid robes. They dribbled up to the ship, then shuddered and drizzled their sea spray onto its sides, whisking the wood before pulling back. A current of cold electricity passed through the air. The wind whipped up. The sea simmered. Elsa shivered.
And one question that she'd wanted to ask him for a while came to her.
"You never told me…Why did you come to Arendelle in the first place?"
Garret merely snorted in response. "You wouldn't believe me."
"We're two people who can use ice to read memories. I may surprise you with what I'm ready to believe."
He scanned her face, the green of his eyes shining like it never did before.
"I heard a call."
THE END
A/N: That. Is. It.
Phew. What a ride. I'm both happy and exhausted. I loved writing this mess, I had so much fun. This is not the end end, there is still an epilogue chapter coming up, look forward to that one in a few weeks. But this is the story I wanted to get out of my system.
There are a few references to movies, games, and books in this one, hope you'll like them!
As I already said, there's a second arc planned, I'll take a break and get on it shortly! I have already decided on a title: Passion and Trial. My interpretation of FII, with pretty significant changes. Hope it gets you excited. It will be posted directly on this story as a second book, you'll be notified when it releases.
Thank you to all for sticking with this story even after the long hiatus, thank you to the almost 100 (!) followers, I still can't believe we are that many! Thank you for all your amazing reviews, you kept me going! Any thoughts you want to share with me are, as always, very welcome!
So, for the epilogue's theme, there's a special case. There are two versions of the same song that I feel can both do the job. Mo Ghile Mear is the title.
The live version by Celtic Woman (with 2.5M views) is the one I had in mind while coming up with the events and I feel corresponds the most to the chapter-it also sounds the most like a Disney song-but I also liked the version by Orla Fallon. Both are on YouTube, you can choose whichever you want or even listen to both!
That is it for now, I love you all!
Peace,
CalAm.