AN: Happy to see you again! And earlier than expected too, by a few days!
This an exceptional one, all the others ANs will be at the end and way shorter. I know it's not always interesting but please take the time to read this, it will detail my aim with this fic.
The theme for this first chapter (and main theme for the entire fic) is Believe by Two Steps From Hell. Yup, them again. If you're wondering why it's not the movie's OST directly, I have an explanation.
So.
Frozen II.
We have to talk about it.
TLDR: One of the best Disney sequels I saw, a decent movie on its own, but I'm not a fan of it.
It didn't rock me as the first did, but I didn't expect it to do that. However, I think it tried to do too much. It handled mature themes, and that's commendable. But I feel like they didn't go as far as they could; they barely grazed everything, didn't delve into anything.
I'm not saying they did a bad job (except for Kristoff, poor boi); they poured their passion -heheseewhatIdidthere- into that movie, the documentary shows it, and for that alone they have my utmost respect. But I think they didn't tell the story they wanted to tell. Not the entire story anyway.
This is my attempt at telling that story. Frozen II, as I think it could've happened. A lot of stuff is going to change, so I wouldn't take the movie as a comparison point. You're gonna tell me, "of course, it's not going to be the same, Garret exists!" and you wouldn't be wrong. But the fact that he has powers is something I thought about for a long time and didn't choose lightly.
What I want to do is more than just jamming my OC in there and calling it a day. Nor reprise scenes from the movie word for word. I want to add something, and that means changing things. I'll incorporate deleted scenes, or just the purpose of those scenes, and some of my own headcanons to fit those changes better.
This will thus respect the movie's messages as much as possible while tweaking what I think needs tweaking.
I think this chapter alone showcases what I'm talking about enough for you to get the gist of it. Core concepts and ideas are there, but with a PaT twist.
I have the outline and a few chapters ready for editing already, but I can't promise to keep a schedule. Unlike for Arc I, I will be working while releasing this Arc, so it's going to be a when it's ready and I'm satisfied with it basis.
I apologize in advance, but I really can't risk promising something only not to deliver on it later on.
Just so we're clear; I'm not saying this is a better story than Frozen II. Just a different but similar one.
Thank you for reading, and I hope you'll like it. If you wanna share your thoughts with me, whatever they are, you are more than welcome :D.
This is Arc II of Patience And Time: Passion and Trial.
Passion
The only thing heavier than the quiver on her back was the weight of the silence around them. Not a single crack, not a single squeal. The arrow was dangling at the tip of her fingers, flying between her phalanges with quick spins.
The projected shadows of the tree branches above them provided a decent cover. They were well-hidden and could see well enough. The scent of humid soil titillated her nose, the warm glint of the red leaves above her head dividing the little light that reached the forest from the sky into carmine patches over the no less cardinal canopy under them. The bright shine made it very difficult not to simply stop to enjoy the scenery.
But she had a job to do. The tribe needed food.
She concentrated on her target, harnessing the years and years of training into that simple pull of her bow's string. She felt every single imperfection on the thin line, the feathers around the little wooden stripe she used for her finger's comfort, the force of the bow as it resisted her own strength arching it backward.
The end of her arrow tickled her cheek, a familiar touch that weighted as comfortingly against her as her father's hand. She took her time, found her mark.
The deer interrupted its grazing, its ears alert. It had heard something.
It was too late. The arrow was loose. But she had been fast enough to correct its trajectory.
The projectile flew with its recognizable whistle, though her ears perceived a strange variation in its simple symphony of death. Like a duplicate.
The deer jumped into the thickets at its right, exactly where she had predicted. It disappeared from sight, and she couldn't tell if the thud she heard was its body collapsing or her own foot slipping forward from the bow's momentum.
They would have to go check.
"Did you hit it?" that annoying blob of a brother said from behind her.
Honeymaren huffed in annoyance. Why did he have to be so loud?
"Shhhh! If I didn't, you'll scare it away," she murmured, her finger jumping to her lips.
Ryder stared at her with those big blank eyes. "If you didn't, the arrow scared it anyway. Assuming it just decided to jump because it felt like it."
"I…" She hated it when he was a smartass. But despite being an ass, he was smart. Sometimes. "Fair point. But shut it still."
She motioned for him to follow her and to prepare his knife. These parts of the woods were relatively safe from the invaders, but she wasn't one to toy with security. They had gotten bold.
"Quietly or I'll tear you a new one," she felt the need to add in a hushed hurry when he opened his mouth.
They crouched even lower and crawled through the high grass, the blades of green scraping quietly against her leather boots. Under her feet, the uneven ground flattened with each of her steps. She even caught a scarab scurrying away, fleeing the path of the giantess that she was to him.
The few yards they crossed appeared longer the more they approached the calm thicket of leaves. Honeymaren traversed the last inches and shouldered a way through the twigs and sprigs.
The deer was there, on the ground, kicking the void. The arrow had struck under the withers, just above the heart. Honeymaren winced. The feeble animal was going through excruciating pain. The muffled sigh at her back reminded her that Ryder was there and that he had a knife with him. She could end the poor beast's suffering.
Her hand shot up to pinch his nose and was immediately met with the sheath that housed the cold and steely blade. She twirled it in her hand and readied herself. She had done it once before; she could do it again. She felt the twitches and trembles as her hand ran over skin. She hated how soft the flesh felt under her fingers, palpitating and pulsing rapidly. How frail the creature looked as she released a gargling and throaty bleat.
The heart was easy to reach. If only her own would stop beating so fast.
She raised her arm, prayed to the spirits and to Laib Olmai, and plunged the blade.
The deer stiffened, exhaled, and joined the planes of the ancestors.
Honeymaren gently caressed the animal's fur and breathed steadily.
Thank you.
Hunting deer was a measure fueled by despair. The Northuldra avoided it as much as they could. But the mist had taken a progressive toll on the tribe; growing plants and crops without as much as half the sun they used to get was a task that had proven more and more complicated. Keeping everyone fed now required them to go after larger prey until the sky returned.
Or so she was told. The idea that there was once a fiery ball of pure light above was still as foreign an idea to her as ever.
As she pulled the blade back from the deer's carcass, Honeymaren caught with the corner of her eye a silvery glint that shone inside the mounds of still-warm flesh. Her finger went to it on instinct and reeled back instantly when a stinging pain surged through it.
She delicately sucked on the end of her finger and examined the strange intrusive object. The pointy end of a needle had nothing to do inside a deer, did it?
Approaching closer, she finally understood, and the blood drained out of her face. She was looking at the head of an arrow, embedded in the animal's left side. No, not an arrow. A crossbow's quarrel.
"Maren…?" her brother's voice called out.
She stood up, her heart racing even faster inside her chest. "Ryder, we're not alone."
His hand squeezed her shoulder. It was shaking.
"I noticed."
She lifted her head to where he was looking.
A few feet in front of her, there were three of them. They never took out those Crocus shaped emblems off their green and purple vests. She had seen a few already, even fought one or two. An acidic rancor rose in her throat.
The one on the far right raised a crossbow at her brother.
Cowardly bastards. Can't even use their own strength to fire.
She drew on her own weapon but repressed the urge to jump at them to slice and shoot her way out.
"This one is ours," she clamored, instilling as much venom in her voice as she could.
The first Arendellian, a tall dark-skinned man with an even taller pole up his ass drilled into her with his eyes.
"We struck it down. I'm afraid I'll have to contest that affirmation," he said.
Honeymaren stepped in between Ryder and the armed quarrel. "Our arrow hit it too. It's our word against yours."
The Arendellian sighed. "Sergeant. Lower your weapon."
The man with the crossbow looked a bit younger, but not by much. His eyes grew larger at the other's words. "Lieutenant?"
The Lieutenant's deeper voice turned steely. "Do it, Karl. It's an order."
Honeymaren met Karl's sullen scowl with her own glare. The man blew a strand of his grey-marred blond hair away from his face. The green of his eyes shone with contained anger, but he reluctantly put his now uncocked crossbow back on his hip.
The Lieutenant nodded appreciatively and turned to the third squadmate. Her hand drifted away from her sword's hilt without any word shared between them.
"Now," he said, bringing his focus back to Honeymaren. "We don't want to fight over this, but we need it. Our resources are scarce, we could use the meat."
"That's cute," Honeymaren said. "So, we just give you our hunt, is that it?"
"I'm not saying to give it up to us. Maybe we can trade you for it. What do you want?"
Ryder sneered at them. "What do you have we'd need more of? We're all stocked up on perfidy and corruption."
Karl's voice rose from his Lieutenant's side. "Go to hell!"
The anger started welling inside Honeymaren's chest. "Want us to say anything to your king while we're at it?"
"That's it!" Karl's hand flew to his crossbow once more, and her own snapped to her bow in anticipated retaliation. "In the name of King Runeard and King Agnarr, you will give—"
"Stand down, Sergeant."
"But, Matti—"
"Stand. Down," the Lieutenant boomed. The slight frown on his face didn't sell the fury that had oozed through his tone enough. Karl cowered under the thunderous order. The silence that filled the air felt even heavier now that the last echoes of his voice had vanished.
The younger sergeant threw one last glance at Ryder and her before stepping back with a quiet, "Yes, sir."
The taller man stared back at her. "If we're done with petty insults and meaningless bickering—"
Ryder clicked his tongue. "That's not just bickering, you heath—"
"I am speaking, Northuldra."
Ryder audibly gulped, and despite the vivid despise she sensed in her entrails towards that treacherous lot, Honeymaren understood him. He was an enemy, but that Lieutenant knew how to command respect.
"It seems we both need the meat. As you aptly put it, it's your word against ours," the intruder continued after clearing his throat. "Since there's no way of knowing who struck first, I suggest we take a half each."
"I suppose you want us to take the half that's all bones and crap, right?"
He sighed again. "You got to it first. You get to choose which half you want to take with you. That thing has to be around 250 pounds. I know how much that will be."
Honeymaren tried to keep her surprise in check. Not only did he accurately estimate the animal's weight without touching it, but his proposal put him and his men at a clear disadvantage. What was he up to?
"What's stopping us from leaving you with the bones and crap?"
He clasped his hands in his back. Honeymaren was a keen observer, but even she almost missed how his cheeks slightly slumped, how his eyes glazed, how his nose quickly twitched. He was worried.
"I'll… I choose to believe that you will act with honor. Keep in mind that…we have children too."
"So much for no fraternization among soldiers."
I don't think he's lying… Honeymaren thought. They really are desperate for meat, huh?
She then stood there, trying to come to a decision. Karl was still eyeing her with that same mixture of disgust and anger, each half of his face fighting to display one or the other in a pathetic dispute. The Lieutenant and the woman, however, stood at attention, waiting for her words.
She exchanged a fleeting glance with Ryder. The nervous half-shrug he gave her did not help at all. They were stuck in a rut. If they refused, they ran the risk of having to fight against three armed soldiers. She knew how to handle herself in combat, but Ryder was much less experienced. He was eager, and that made him stupid. Well, even more stupid than usual.
In hindsight, she didn't have much of a choice.
"Let's do that," she finally answered, and the Lieutenant's tense shoulders loosened up. "But your two merry ducklings go away. They can come back when we're done and out of here."
"There's no way—" Karl began.
"Deal," the Lieutenant said. "Sergeants, please go back to camp. I can handle bringing back the meat alone."
The woman at his right stepped forward in apparent worry. "But, sir… We can't leave you alone with them."
"And we can't go back empty-handed again, Liyana. Don't lose your head about me. Go. I'll join you shortly. It's an order."
Karl and Liyana saluted after another minute of silent observation. They glared in Honeymaren's direction one final time and disappeared behind their superior, the crunches of their boots fading away into the red forest's aloof and ominous quiet.
Honeymaren circled around the carcass. "Make yourself comfortable and have a seat there," she said as she pointed to a nearby rock. "Ryder, take this," she added while handing him the bow. "Fire if he tries anything funny."
The Lieutenant raised his hands and did as told under Ryder's watchful gaze.
Honeymaren then started dissecting the deer with cautious movements, carving through the flesh with her red-stained hands to extract whatever she could. She focused on the liver, kidneys and heart—her father had taught her the organs were the most nutritious parts of the animal—before handling the muscle tissue. She also made sure to leave some of the meatier parts for the intruder.
He can handle all the fatty stuff, though, she thought with a grin.
"You're Mattias, aren't you?" Honeymaren asked as she worked, lifting her eyes to meet his. "Yelena speaks of you."
He perked up and blinked in surprise. "I am."
"Well, Mattias. You hunt awfully close to us. Arendellians have a pretty lousy reputation around here. You know that under any other circumstances I would've fired on sight, right?"
He slumped back down. "Trust me, we wouldn't have come here if we had any other choice. But our lands—"
"Our lands," she spat.
He met her angry stare before letting his gaze fall to the ground. "We've had a hard time. No crops will grow and the woods around us are empty. We knew it was a risk but we simply could not stand by. We delayed the hunt as much as we could."
"And you're trusting us with such crucial info? Your three-decade-old enemies?"
"We're all in the same boat. I'm not telling you anything you don't already know."
"The spirits are getting back at you, war criminals," Ryder said.
"If I'm not mistaken, the spirits are getting back at you, respectful lot, too," Mattias fired back with a small smile.
Honeymaren found nothing to retort. The times were apparently tedious for everyone inside the forest.
"I must say," Mattias continued. "I thought you wouldn't have seen reason. I guess you're not all beyond common sense and honor."
"And I guess you're not all screaming harlots."
Mattias clicked his tongue. "Forgive Karl's brash manners. He's not taken well to your treason."
"Oh, it's our treason, now," Ryder snarled. "We're the ones who feigned friendship and attempted to enslave your people too?"
"You murdered our king."
"Your king killed more of us than there are of you."
"There is no—"
Mattias's sentence was interrupted by a shudder of the air. The wind picked up in a burst of hot gale, bending the branches around them as if they were mere twigs. Something crept up Honeymaren's spine like a snake's vulpine hiss.
She turned around, and her gasp echoed with the two neighboring men's. Behind the tree, a horned silhouette stood tall, a breath of dense fog roiling around its gigantic mass. Two bright purple spots burned inside the dark shadow, peering onto them like a wolf on its prey.
"Is that… a horned bear?" Ryder's trembling voice murmured from behind her.
The silhouette took a step that shook the very earth. A scorching wave of heat passed by them.
"A bear isn't that big," Honeymaren and Mattias whispered back in unison.
The Arendellian rose from his seat and pulled a knife out of an interior pocket. Honeymaren glared at the concealed weapon before shaking her head. It was useless.
She liked to think that she was braver than the average twenty-something around the village, and that she had good survival instincts. There was one certitude those instincts were screaming into her ear: if they attempted to fight, they were going to die.
"Ryder, run," she said. "RUN. NOW!"
"GO FOR THE RIVER!" Mattias cried out.
The sound of Honeymaren's following shout was swallowed by the deafening roar of a firestorm.
Anna massaged the soles of her feet, releasing successive breaths to accompany the progressive relief she felt. The room was empty, save for the cushioned armchair just in front of the now extinguished fireplace. The materializing rays of sunshine that raced over it were formal: it needed a good clean-up. The faint musty smell was another clue she couldn't miss. But she needed to sit. And so she did.
Outside, she couldn't hear much beyond the crashing of the waves and the incessant hammering of the rain against the window. A couple of weeks before, chirping birds and squawking seagulls would swarm the castle's higher fleches all day long. Now, she was lucky if she heard one or two tweets in the morning.
Anna didn't like autumn. It was summer minus the sun, winter minus the snow, and spring minus the flowers. To make matters worse, the weather had been atrocious for the last few days.
She let her head drop on the padded edges of her seat, the groan that went past her lips sounding a lot more frustrated than she'd willingly acknowledge.
No wonder Elsa didn't want me to come with her for this stuff. What a fantastic reunion of clowns.
She mentally grunted at how stone-headed her afternoon's interlocutors had been. But Anna had sworn to be at her sister's side no matter what, and that included diplomatic reunions—as stupid as they were most of the time.
The burning flames atop the candles on the marble counter swung with the opening of the door. Kristoff stepped inside with a wide grin, his hands full with a plate brimming with pastries.
"There you are, Princess."
She smiled back. "There you are, Prince."
"Looking for trouble now?" he asked with a playful tone. He sat on her arm's chair and kissed the cheek she extended toward him.
"No, I'm just anticipating the moment I get to see you in a black suit. I figure calling you that will make it happen faster."
"Yeah, definitely. Solid plan. It'll work. Eventually. Keep waiting." He put the plate on her outstretched legs while she giggled. "I thought you'd need a refreshment after all that, feisty pants."
"You should come to the receptions, you know? Get to know people and all that. But whatever. I'm too hungry to think about anything else right now," Anna cheerfully said before practically launching herself at the poor cookies. "Fankyoufodechocolatebybeway."
"I feel bad for them, now. Poor things. They never stood a chance."
Anna's enamored eyes searched for her companion's, but he avoided her gaze. Intrigued, she examined him a bit further. Kristoff was sweatier than usual—the faint glimmer of those candles shone on his forehead. His fingers twitched too.
"You okay?" she asked through a half-eaten cookie, a bizarre sense of confusion filling her mind.
He tugged at his collar. That wasn't a good sign. "Yeah, yeah…" he answered.
"You sure?" she insisted, arching an eyebrow.
He finally met her eye line. "Positive."
She swallowed, leaned closer to him and put a gentle hand over his. "You can tell me if anything's wrong, you know."
"Nothing's wrong, Anna. Really. Actually, I was with Sven, and we were just discussing how happy I was to be here."
Her heart melted at his words. She had feared that the world of royalty would make him uncomfortable. That the parties and meetings and conferences would not be his natural habitat. Even if he never actually went to any, he always assured that he liked them enough. Somehow.
"You are?"
"I am."
"You're not telling me that because you know that's exactly what I wanted to hear?"
"Nuh-uh."
"And just so I can make sure I didn't have something in my ear. You're happy here?"
Kristoff chuckled, let his shoulders fall and kissed her forehead. "I'm happy here, with you."
She threw herself at him and showered him in smooches she tried her hardest to make as loud as possible. He laughed under her; every single of his snickers sounded like music to her ears.
Anna pulled back, keeping her arms tightly knit around his neck. "You know I love you, right?"
He answered with a simple nod and a smile that was now much more confident. He didn't need to say it.
She gave him one final kiss on his nose and turned back to her plate with a content grin. Her kingdom, her sister, the love of her life… She had trouble wrapping her head around how perfect everything was. She liked the light and slightly euphoric trance she was living in every day.
If only Garret and Elsa would finally decide to do something, anything about them—after two years, she hadn't even caught them holding hands—there wouldn't have been anything to weigh on her.
Anna had managed to get Elsa to at least admit that they had talked about it. But nothing had been officialized. She couldn't shake the feeling that she hadn't been told everything.
"Those two…"
"Huh?"
"Garret and Elsa," she specified. "Can you believe them?"
"I—I—I think? What did they do again?"
"Ugh. Nothing. Forget it."
She'd told Elsa she should take her time. Surely she didn't need so much of it? Right?
Nothing's ever simple with that airhead, isn't it? she thought with a fond smile.
"Anna?" Kristoff called, his voice breaking.
She contained a laugh and faced him back.
"Yes, Kristoff?" she said, trying her best to replicate that squeak.
"Remember that time this love expert right here took you on a trip, and I told you I didn't trust your judgement? To this day I still wonder how I could."
Anna replied with a dreamy nod before shaking her head at the realization of what he had just said.
"Wait, what? You wonder how you could have come with me?
"What? No, that's not—"
Her mind raced and jumped from his words to the only possible conclusion. "And you still don't trust my judgment? You don't think I should've chosen you?"
He gave her a sharp shake of his head after a quick blank stare. "No! No, no, no. I mean at the time, I didn't, but now… I know you're not as naïve anymore…."
"But I'm still naïve?"
"…A bit. I mean, no. Kinda? That's not what I—"
Every single word of his was like a dagger through her stomach. His speech coupled with how nervous he had looked made her imagine the worst. "I'm not mature enough for you?"
"I—That's—Of course you are! This is getting way too confusing for something so obvio—"
"It's obvious that you don't want me anymore?"
The void swallowed her stomach, and the tears had already started dripping down her cheek. He stared at her with wide eyes and lifted two hands.
"All right. This is getting way out of control. I'm gonna stop here and start all over again." His fingers wiped the humid trail away from her face with a soft caress and he hugged her like he was afraid she'd slip away. "Of course, I want you, Anna. I couldn't have wished for anything better than to meet you," he said, the trembling of his voice ringing against her ear.
"Then, what are you getting at? You almost gave me a heart att—"
Her words hung in the air and her heart stopped when he pulled away and dropped on one knee, a golden gleam shining on the palm of his hand.
"Put it a bit higher. There you go."
"It's…a bit too hard."
"That's normal. Don't worry about the shaft for now. And don't try to slot it in, we'll come back to it later."
His hand drifted to where hers rested, the light brushes her skin felt as he adjusted her position making it a bit harder to breathe. He then gently lifted her outstretched arm, raising it by a few inches so that it would align with her shoulders.
"And where do I pull?" Elsa asked.
"Below the nock," Garret answered with a quick tap of his free hand on the bow's frame. "The little wooden thingy where you put the string, after the feathers." She tentatively looked for the little snick and asked for his approval with her eyes. "That's right."
He walked behind her, and his cheek grazed hers as he slightly bent forward, aligning himself with her eyesight as much as he could. She could almost inhale his perfume. The weight of his palm covering hers over the bow's handle felt natural, soothing, comforting.
She threw one quick look around: their surroundings were still empty.
"Nobody's coming, Elsa," Garret said, amusement plain to hear in his voice.
She gave him a feeble nod.
Going to the back of the barracks for her archery lessons had been a great idea. Not only were the premises already stocked full of weapons and practice targets, but more importantly, no one would come to see her; there would be no surprises.
Just her and Garret.
After a long day of political discussions and two receptions all in one afternoon, she needed the break.
Elsa sighed as she recalled the headache-inducing talks she had had to endure.
"The joys of arguing with anyone from the Isles of Batz are flooding back?" Garret asked with a chuckle.
Those envoys had been insistent on the one single point that didn't make any sense.
"I just can't with them anymore. They speak French, come from French territory, sail under a French flag, but somehow, they're not French? I was so done."
Anna suspected they used her own tactic against Elsa: they were feigning stupidity. Fortunately, she was well versed in detecting and deflecting that strategy. Elsa had let her wreck her own—much more subtle than usual—type of havoc. To great results.
"At least they were happy to leave. And you both secured a valuable corridor for our ships, now."
His use of our made her heart jump in joy. He had had trouble finding a place among the Arendellians, but while he still considered himself British first and foremost, spending a month shy of two years in her homeland made him see himself as a part of it—something he had been the last to do.
He sometimes admitted thinking that making him her unofficial personal guard would stir up some protests, but he had gradually earned the kingdom's respect as Lieutenant and proven his worth. And even if he hadn't, Lieutenants were assigned to the royal family's security by tradition anyway.
She suppressed a content sigh. "Anna did all the heavy lifting, but yes. Hopefully, the next treaties aren't going to demand such diplomatic pirouettes."
"Your French is leaking."
"Oh spirits, I'm in too far now, aren't I?"
"I don't mind. The language is elegant; the exact opposite of its country. It suits you."
Elsa lightly tapped his shoulder and shook her head with a bashful grin. "You don't like the French, do you?"
"You can't be a citizen of Her Majesty's Empire if you don't poke fun at them now and again. It's practically law back there. He who shall not desecrate the frogs will be treated as one. Or something like that. It's just friendly rivalry more than anything. I met some of the kindest folk in France."
She released a few chuckles and concentrated back on her lesson.
Garret stood even closer behind her and she could now feel his breath on her cheek; she stiffened as he reviewed one last time her firing posture. He pulled away with a satisfied grunt, but his eyes told her that something wasn't quite right.
Maybe I should have worn something a bit more adapted?
The dress of purple and black had replaced her ice garb for quite some time now. While not as comfortable, Elsa had welcomed the change—creating the veil of crystal every morning and maintaining it throughout the day had quickly become a chore she had been happy to get rid of. Not without a few protests from Anna.
But was the problem really her dress? She risked a discreet look over her shoulder.
Garret was observing her with focus, his right index finger lightly tapping at his chin. His eyes flew from her feet to her shoulders, from her hands to the string nock above her head, from her hips to the bow's riser. He caught her looking at him and gave her that warm smile of his. Her gaze snapped back forward on instinct. She was certain she was going to blush.
She heard his muffled chortles emerge from behind her. "Sorry about the staring."
His voice was a lot deeper once more. The words made her suppress a shudder. They were different, lower, almost guttural. He did that sometimes, only when they were alone. What did it mean?
Elsa cleared her throat. "No—No harm intended. Am I ready?"
"Yes, that should do it," he said. "Keep it steady, you don't want to lose your stature."
She relaxed her shoulders and went over the steps to achieve a satisfactory stance. "So, chin up, elbow raised, feet perpendicular, and…"
"And?"
"…I'm thinking."
"I could guess that. Eyebrows."
She always had trouble with the sequence; for more than two dozen training sessions, she couldn't even get the first step right. She finally remembered the part she always left out. "Oh! Shoulder blades clamped. But everything else is relaxed."
Garret stepped in front of her, that smile still ever so glowing on his face. Now that his hair was shorter on the sides, his beam was a lot more brilliant. If only he agreed to get rid of that bang…
"That's it," he acknowledged with a quick appreciative nod. "Don't forget, this is the first time you're not using one made for children, and you don't have a clicker. When you pull, pull all the way. You won't be able to hold very long. Bring the string to your cheek, just enough that it brushes it. And be careful not to turn your head this way if you want to keep this pretty nose."
His finger came to that same nose and gave it a playful little press.
She couldn't not smile, even if she was working hard at it. "Hey!"
That had gone out a lot higher than she'd thought. How did he do that to her?
He took a step back with a mischievous smile, letting her have enough room to move. "Now, whenever you feel ready, draw the arrow."
She breathed steadily, concentrating on her target. It looked farther now than it did a few seconds before.
I can do this. It's only the… whatever-hundredth time.
Elsa inhaled and pulled. But the projectile, or the string, or the bow—something, resisted. Was it normal? She pulled with all her strength, forgetting for a second that her shoulders were once again relaxed. As soon as they hardened back, the string bent before her eyes under the pressure of her muscles.
She understood why he had told her not to hold too long: she was already losing all feelings in her shoulders and guiding hand's fingers.
"Back, back, back," Garret encouraged. "Aaaaaand… Release!"
She let go of the string and closed her eyes in reflex. The fletching tickled her face as the shaft sped out on its trajectory with a swift fife. Elsa heard the blank noise of steel hitting wood and opened a single eyelid.
The arrow was on the target. Not at the exact dead center; inside one of the larger circles near the limits. But it had hit its mark. For the first time.
She sought Garret and found him as she expected to find him: looking at her, his face brimming with pride.
"I did it…" was all she could say.
"Yes, you did."
She had a hard time believing it. "I fired an arrow, and it hit the target."
"Yes, it did."
The fiery expression of the realization rose and rose. It had hit the target. Elsa bit her lip to prevent herself from squealing in excitement, clapped Garret's open hand and waited until the heat left her cheeks before speaking again.
"It's… Such a strange feeling. To have this… surge! Honestly, this is… It's exhilarating! I understand why you chose the bow as your weap—"
She stopped when she threw a glance at her companion. He was still smiling, but the creases had disappeared, his eyes were a tiny bit hollower. And she realized why.
His tired moues had become very rare, and she had gotten a lot better at discerning when he was feeling the weight of his own mind. "I'm sorry," she said.
He perked up. "What are you apologizing for?"
"That was inconsiderate of me."
He waved a dismissive hand. "Nonsense. I wouldn't be here with you if firing a few arrows made me uncomfortable."
"I know you…" she said, a tender smile growing on her lips as she stepped closer to him. She lifted a hand despite her soreness and caressed his clean-shaven cheek as gently as she could. "…and yes, you would."
The vibration of his laugh traversed her arm. "Flatterer."
She almost drowned into his eyes when the pain at the base of her arm grew too much. She let it fall and massaged it. "The shot hurt my shoulder, though. Is it supposed to hurt?"
"It is," Garret confirmed, crossing his arms. "This is the first time you actually shot an arrow with something that can be called a bow. It's hard even with a light one."
This one was light?
She'd read that bows were classified by their weight. Her curiosity got the better of her once more. "How heavy is the draw on this one?"
She handed him the wooden arc, and he pulled on the string like it was nothing. "I'd say about 20 pounds."
Oh. Heavier than I expected, Elsa thought, surprised at her own physical strength.
"What's the heaviest you ever pulled?"
If something like pulling on that bow was like a breeze to him, she guessed he could go two, maybe three times heavier than she did?
Garret scratched his head. "Good question. I have to think about this." He summoned his own crystal-clear bow with a flick of his wrist and tugged at it with furrowed brows. She repressed a laugh at his definition of think. "Depends on how hard I tighten the pulleys, but I'd say I already fired at 150? I must average out at 120-130 pounds."
Almost. Eight. Times. Heavier.
Elsa gulped. She often forgot that he was a warrior.
"That's… a lot."
Garret simply shrugged in response, his ice bow disintegrating in a flurry of twinkling mist. "I've been training for this my whole life. And even knowing that, 150 is nothing stellar. Standard war bow weight. Don't get me started on those Chinese fellas. Bows aren't really the current fashion, but I was told some could pull 200 pounds back in the day. I tried 180 once."
"That sounds like an enormous endeavor for Garret the archer."
"No kidding. Guess what happened? I fe—"
"You fell over."
"—ll ove… All right, you do know me. Bottom line. Don't dwell on that too much. First, as I said, I trained for this. Second, it gets easier a lot quicker than you'd think. And third, and most importantly." He smiled and slightly leaned in her direction. "A heavy bow is useless if you miss."
Her eyebrow shot up on its own. "Why am I sensing a bit of arrow-gance in that sentence, Lieutenant Carter?" Elsa asked.
"Heh. Nice one," Garret complimented. "I'm just saying that if you ever need a good shot, your very own personal archer-guard doesn't need the heaviest bow on this continent to be effective."
Elsa dusted his shoulder and readjusted his uniform's collar. "I wonder if that archer-guard's worth the few strings I pulled to give him that spot?"
"Oh, I guess there are a few drawbacks. Hope none are deal-breakers."
"It's fine. For now. But be careful, Lieutenant. I'm learning fast. I'll be a better shot than you in a few weeks."
"You're certainly getting cheekier."
"Bad influence," she said with a quick light-hearted shrug. "I learned from, arguably, the worst."
"And you're doing an incredible job. At archery jokes."
Elsa brought her finger to his nose and lightly pressed its tip in the same way he had done a few minutes earlier, his face turning crimson instantly. "I'm sure I do."
"Elsaaaaaa!"
Anna's booming cry startled them both. Elsa darted away from Garret, who threw the bow into a random rack behind him. They both summoned an ice lasso to pull the arrow away from the target just in time for Anna to appear at the top of the stairs, barreling down so fast Elsa wondered how she didn't stumble on her own feet.
Kristoff followed behind, managing a much more human-compatible speed.
Anna leaped over the last steps and dashed in front of Elsa, grabbing her hands in a crushing grip. "You won't believe this!"
"Please tell me you didn't just escape from another kidnapping?"
"No, why would I—wait, what are you doing here? Both of you, alone? In the barracks? At sunset?"
Elsa and Garret exchanged a quick glance and released a synchronous nervous laugh.
"Umm. We were checking out the boxes of ammunition…" Garret started.
"Yeah, there are two—"
"Three."
"—three ways they could be malfunctioning…"
"And since the rifles are new…"
"They could go all boom on someone who doesn't know how to use them…"
"…we wouldn't want that to happen, would we?"
"And the kitchens, they would mind the noise—"
"—which would make the potato soup a bit too sour."
"And that would make us very cranky."
"There's that too, so yeah."
"Uh-huh. Like he said. Yeah."
"Sticking to it. Definitely."
Anna narrowed her eyes, falling into the most doubtful expression Elsa had ever seen on her. She observed them without a word for a very long minute while Kristoff joined them.
"You know the rule? The intelligence of a group gets divided by the number of people in that group? I think that applies to you two, but for lying. But nevermind, I'm not here for this," she said with a shrug and a wave. "Check this out," she squealed while jamming her left hand at her sister's face.
Only then did Elsa notice the golden glimmer on her finger.
"Is that a ring?"
"Yyyyyeeeees!"
"You proposed?" Elsa then asked Kristoff in disbelief.
"I did."
She turned back to her sister. Anna fidgeted on her spot while biting her lower lip, and Elsa had a feeling she knew what was going on in her mind.
She laughed lightly, stroked the princess's disheveled hair and took a look at her beaming visage, her soon-to-burst tears, her cheeks redder than the autumn sky outside.
Elsa also saw the way Kristoff's clasped hands lightly shook, how a few beads of sweat pearled on his face, but most importantly, how his eyes were focused not on the ground or herself, but on Anna.
She had seen that look somewhere else. Their father used to look at their mother with those exact same eyes.
And that was all she needed.
She exchanged one look with Garret. His enormous smile only added to her conviction.
Anna and Kristoff were still waiting for her to speak.
"I give you my blessing."
Anna hiccupped. "You don't know how long I've waited for you to say that," she managed through her now abundant tears.
She then threw herself around the much more radiant Elsa, enlacing her with such force that the poor queen had to let out a small grunt.
Garret extended a hand towards Kristoff. "Congratulations, mate."
"Thanks," Kristoff replied after a long sigh of relief, accepting the handshake with vigor.
Anna pulled away with another laugh and wiped her eyes with her forearm. "This might just be the second-best day of my life," she said, a few sniffles interweaving with her words.
"Not so fast," Elsa said, trying as much as she could to hold back her own crying. If her blurry vision was any indication, she was failing miserably. "We still have a wedding day to plan."