The next day, the same room was filled with the voices of Arendelle's councillors and nobles. A heavily annotated map of the kingdom, the corners corroded by use and time, was displayed in the center of the long table, and each face was partly hidden by stacks of reports of all kinds. The air was heavy with the smell of smoke from the fireplace, the scent of ink and parchment, and a tangible tension.
The situation was, as all too often in recent months, the situation in the lower quarters. All agreed: the resistance was gangrenous, like a tumor threatening to spread throughout the city.
"It's no longer just a rumor among the miserables," commented a nobleman with a sallow skin and a crooked jaw. "It's a full-scale rebellion gathering right next to our homes."
"They're attacking us in organized gangs! My family doesn't even dare go out at night anymore," replied the stocky woman opposite him.
"We've been too indulgent with them!" shouted another man, banging his fist on the table. "If they think they can act unpunished, we've got to put them in their place!"
The voices grew louder, reverberating in echoes, giving the impression that a whole crowd was arguing.
Sitting on the chair at the end of the table, where her sister had been sitting the previous evening, Anna had stopped listening and kept her eyes closed. The hubbub in the room was torturing her ears and buzzing her eardrums. With one hand, she tapped the armrest of her armchair with the tips of her fingernails. Tac, tac, tac. With the other, she rubbed her eyelids, wondering if she could escape the migraine that usually awaited her at the end of these meetings.
How long had it been since she'd had a full night's sleep? She had no idea. Every morning, she woke up with the same heaviness in her temples, the same burning behind her eyes, and now the weight of her own sister's possible betrayal. She had no time to lose with all this; she wanted to make sure she could trust Elsa. She felt weary. More than weary. Empty.
"Your Majesty?"
The voice pulled her from her thoughts. Opening her eyes again, Anna realized that the room had gone silent and all eyes were on her. The crooked-jawed nobleman had just addressed her and was obviously waiting for an answer, but she had no idea what he had asked.
"I was asking if we could send a delegation north to monitor the tribes' movements. If the resistance gains their support, we'll be overwhelmed."
"And I keep telling you that the danger lurks here, in Arendelle, not in the wilderness of the north!" exclaimed a noblewoman with a crimson face.
"The Northuldras again..." grunted the stocky woman, rolling her eyes.
She crossed her arms.
"If we'd acted right after the diplomat's death, we wouldn't be in this mess. They were never punished. They knew exactly what they were doing. Those savage beasts murdered him on the same day as Agnarr and Iduna's disappearance - no coincidence at all! Do you really think they don't support these rebels?"
"And who knows if our own servants aren't in contact with these traitors? Maybe it's time to check their loyalty and put them in their place!" shouted another.
A murmur of approval went up around the table. One of the advisors muttered the word "Treason". All eyes turned back to Anna, who couldn't hold back a long, tired sigh.
Tac, tac, tac, tac.
"Your Majesty..." someone breathed, almost pleadingly.
"We need a clear order," completed the man with the twisted jaw.
Anna straightened up, taking a deep breath to regain her composure.
Tac, tac, tac, tac, tac.
"We'll deal with the savages later. As for the rebels in the lower quarters, I'll think of a solution. I agree with you that we need to make a demonstration of power. Maybe then they'll understand once and for all that we're making all these sacrifices for their own good."
Anna paused, her eyes piercing each of the nobles present like sharp daggers. She stopped tapping the armrest and rose to her feet, resolute.
"The meeting is over."
The councilors exchanged puzzled glances, hoping their Queen would finally explain her reasons. But the young redhead turned on her heels without even giving them time to respond, offering them her back, her silence like a sentence. She confidently raised her head and left the room in long strides. The blaze in the fireplace eased, but the armrests remained blackened and smoking.
On the wind-beaten hillside, the menhirs stood out against a greyish sky that occasionally showed glimpses of pale blue. The stone, eaten up by winter humidity, was starting to be covered in moss. With her numb fingertips, Elsa began to scrape away the vegetation covering her parents' names, until she could scrape the stone with her nails and feel the pain under her fingers. At least she felt pain, if only physical.
That day, she was wearing a steel-blue silk gown dotted with subtle silver-thread embellishments. A short cape, dark as night, hung over her shoulders, and only her high shiny leather boots hinted her military habits. Even her trusty rapier was no longer hanging from her belt, tucked away in her apartments, where the bundle of letters she hadn't had the courage to open still awaited her.
"Father, Mother, I don't know what to do anymore," she whispered to the wind. "Anna has strayed from the path you laid out for Arendelle. I... Help me, guide me... Tell me there's still something I can do."
In reply, the wind whistled between the stones, playing with her braid, occasionally bringing a strand against her cheek, which she didn't chase away.
Footsteps rose behind her, crunching on the gravel of the path. The young woman recognized the characteristic clatter of armor, and didn't bother to turn around.
"Lady Elsa," called out a deep voice.
She recognized all too well the rough tone of Rokar, a guard officer who was reluctant to obey her and was a little too zealous for her liking.
"I must ask you to follow us to the castle."
Behind this protocol tone tinged with apology, Elsa managed to detect the tone too measured, too polite to be honest, and that slight thread of superiority that Rokar no longer bothered to mask with her.
She inhaled deeply, her eyes closed. For the past few days, she had felt herself floating in a haze of uncertainty, and she had to use all her concentration to stay in the present moment. Even so, her heart refused to slow down.
"Why?" she asked, her voice too calm to be natural.
Rokar appeared in her line of sight, to her right, near the menhirs. His helmet tucked under his arm, his salt-and-pepper hair pulled back to reveal a chiselled forehead, and his eyes, sunken under deep dark circles, stared at her without flinching. A scar on his right cheek bore witness to a recent altercation, probably in the lower quarters.
"You are suspected of high treason. Recent information leads us to believe that you have been in contact with enemies of the Crown."
A new wave washed over Elsa, who barely managed not to flinch. Yet she felt as if a stone had sunk into her stomach, and another, as imposing as the menhirs in front of her, was about to crush her.
Anna, her own sister, suspected her of treason and was having her locked up? She couldn't believe it.
Taking advantage of her daze, Rokar approached, pulling out his handcuffs. With surprising gentleness, he took Elsa's hand, and she relented.
"I'm head of the guard," she murmured. "You can't do this."
"Speaking of which," replied the soldier over the clinking of chains, "Your authority is revoked. I'm assigned to your post as of today. Direct order from Her Majesty the Queen."
Rokar turned Elsa around and gently pushed her between the shoulder to move her forward. She passed between two guards without seeing them. Her escort took her down the mountain towards the castle of Arendelle, the place that was supposed to be her home.
Yet, as her eyes rested on the high, pointed roofs, she could no longer hear the rustle of the wind, the sound of her footsteps, or even the beating of her heart.
The dungeon smelled of rancid damp, rusty iron and soiled straw. The shadow of the bars, cast by the light of a flickering torch facing her cell, closed in around Elsa. Sitting against the cold wall, knees bent up against her, the young woman was staring at an undefined point in the void. Her cloak had been removed and rebellious strands were escaping from her braid. The silence buzzed unpleasantly in her ears, and she felt herself swaying. She hadn't been mistreated - not yet - but just being locked in there, without explanation, had been enough to tear her away from reality.
Hinges creaked at the end of the corridor, and Elsa slowly looked up at the slim, straight figure that had just appeared.
Anna.
Her sister was wearing her usual red, almost black, queenly gown, topped with a black cape lined with black feathers over her shoulders. Her hair was pulled back in an intricate, impeccable bun. As she approached the bars, the torch's flame intensified, casting the Queen's shadow over her unfortunate sister.
"I came as soon as I heard," she began in a pained tone. "This is... a mistake. A terrible mistake. I ordered your release."
Her voice was as wounded as if she'd been the one locked up. Elsa didn't answer immediately. She raised a trembling hand to push back a lock of hair sticking to her wet temple, then set her pale eyes on the Queen.
"Do you really think I betrayed Arendelle?" she asked half-heartedly.
"I mostly think," replied Anna, "that you've made unwise decisions. Decisions that some people interpret as a threat."
She stepped forward and placed a hand on the gate. The metal creaked slightly under her palm.
"Elsa... Why did you go down into the lower quarters unescorted? Why alone? You knew it was dangerous."
"Because you're hiding things from me," replied Elsa. "Because I don't recognize Arendelle anymore. Not its streets, not its faces. Because I needed to understand what is being done to our people in your name. You know I'd do anything for you. For Arendelle. Even... even if I'm not always sure of what's going on around me."
She lowered her eyes.
"But I would never, never raise my sword against you, Anna."
A silence passed. A long silence, too long for Elsa, who held on to the bars to keep from flinching under its weight.
"I believe you," she finally said. "I believe you, Elsa."
She nodded to the guard behind her, whom Elsa hadn't even noticed.
"Open up."
The cage opened and Elsa was led out as carefully as if she'd been made of porcelain. Anna placed a hand on hers and, for the first time, her warmth was gentle, almost comforting, far from the burn that usually suffocated her.
"Rest," she murmured. "I'll make sure all this misunderstanding is cleared up and quickly forgotten."
She gave her a pale smile. Elsa didn't respond. Absently, she watched herself walk out of the dungeon, up the spiral staircase, and back to her room, floating as if in an unpleasant dream.
Rokar closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, his hand on the handle. Through the leather, he could feel the heat of the ornate iron. He exhaled loudly, composed himself and entered the office.
The oppressive heat of the room washed over him like a gust of wind in the middle of a storm. He paused in the doorway, watching the Queen's silhouette, motionless in front of the window, her back to him.
"My Queen, you asked for me."
He was already sweating profusely and breathing harshly. The air was heavy, but not just because of the heat. Rokar could feel it, the palpable tension emanating from the young woman that both tightened and quickened his heart. Trying not to make a sound in spite of his armor, he wiped the sweat from his forehead that trickled into his eyes. But he quickly let his arm fall back, trying not to breathe any louder than necessary despite the protests of his lungs. The slightest noise, the slightest improper gesture, would be enough to incur the Queen's wrath. He could see it in her tense shoulders and the refraction of heat emanating from her.
The room was deathly silent. The new head of the guard felt like a prisoner awaiting his sentence. His armor began to clank; Rokar was not a superstitious man, yet he couldn't stop his hands from shaking. He clenched his fists in front of him with all his might.
"She denies everything," Anna announced in a low voice. "But I know she's lying. After all, she's spent her life mimicking emotions. All these years, I've been trying to find one last trace of humanity, of love, in her. And it's by talking to her about the resistance that she becomes overwhelmed? Does she care more about them than about me?"
The young woman was talking more for herself than for Rokar. The latter listened to her but hesitated to turn back. He felt as if he'd intruded on the Queen's privacy. Locked in his silence, he debated with himself.
When he decided to withdraw, the young woman finally turned to him. Slowly, as if it cost her something, as if the soldier disgusted her. She looked up at him, her pupils reddened by the glow of the flames in the fireplace.
"So be it," she declared gravely. "Rokar, we can't let her go on like this."
The chief guard's eyes widened. He always understood all the Queen's subtleties, her half-hearted orders, but tonight he was afraid to understand. Yet he'd never been wrong, and the redhead's gaze left no room for doubt.
Blood pounding in his temples and his throat burning, Rokar cleared his throat. This time, he had to be sure, he wanted a clear order.
"My Queen, I'm afraid I misunderstand..."
"No, Rokar. You're intelligent, you've always understood. You're afraid of the truth, but we... but I can't deny it anymore."
Anna frowned, her gaze harder than ever. High flames escaped from the hearth. Smoke billowed from the young woman's hands, her fingers blackened, as if calcined.
"My sister must disappear. Get rid of Elsa."
Rokar's jaw trembled for a moment. A shiver ran down his spine, but he stood at attention to hide it. She was right, there was no point in ignoring the truth. Her orders were gospel to him. With a new resolve, he bowed to the Queen, making the blade of his sword, hanging from his belt, glint.
"Yes, your Highness."