Agnes wasn't really the sort to get queasy often, not when her work demanded that she clean the messes that others didn't want to get their hands dirty with, you know? Whether it be a cleansing of a wash room, the removal of sundries, the occasional clog in the drain, or every manner of bathroom mishap, she was all but prepared to take it head-on, not questions asked.
It was just her job to handle the dirty work.
But if you'd have told her that the kind of dirty work that she'd have to be involved with demanded that she'd be slathered in the blood of the princess...she might have refused it otherwise.
"Agnes, get me the setting paste over on the left stand, please. We'll need it to pack the wound for the time being and keep it from the air." She heard Ingrid whisper from the other side of the bed where she was still redressing Anna, the older woman careful, meticulous, with the way that she pulled the younger woman's arms through the sleeves of a comfortable gown that they'd managed to find in the drawers of her room. Looking about the princess's suite, there were certainly marks of the work that they'd done. From the red-rimmed bowl that held red-tinted water and rags, to the smear that rested upon the old sheets they had to change and the discarded clothes she'd worn before, Agnes had never seen the young lady's room in such a state.
Or rather, she'd never fathomed a situation like this could happen in the first place.
"R-right...of course, ..." She responded back, rushing from the edge of the bed where she'd been standing, rounding about the left side of the newly pressed and fitted sheets and mattress to take into her hands a bowl of grey paste, smelling strongly of nature and herbs has she lifted it from the night stand. Bringing it over to her overseer, the older woman took it in silence, taking up a glob in-hand and raising it to Anna's head, gently dabbing and spreading even the mixture on the clear indentations that had pressed into the seat of her skull on her forehead and upon the seam of her hairline.
As if those two spots had been pushed in much too far.
The areas still budded with fresh blood, and though they'd since cleaned off of her face for the most part (save for the strange trickles of red and clear fluid that would leak from her nose and ears, an unsettling detail that made her otherwise still face much more unsettling), she was disturbed by her stillness, by the shallow, weak breaths that echoed through her chest and out through her parted lips. It marked that she was still alive, if barely, but that didn't stop the young nursemaid from remarking her parlor skin, the ashen grey tones of her once warm complexion likening her more to a corpse than a sleeping woman.
This was wrong. All of this was so very, very wrong.
When the mixture had been set and carefully spread to over the indentations, the bowl was placed down, clanking quite loudly in the silence of the room.
Or perhaps it only felt loud.
She...wasn't sure.
"The bandages." Ingrid commanded, tone softer, far lower, than usual, and Agnes didn't miss the drying blood that laid caked beneath her nails, even when folded neatly and tidy in her lap.
Nor the hollowed expression that seemed to age her even more than usual, making what were usual such strong, unwavering features into the withered, old woman she truly was.
Strange how just a few hours could do that to a person.
"Of course..." Agnes agreed, remembering that they were also on the same night stand that the strange paste had been on, rushing about the bed quickly to get it to her. For now, she was just the errand girl, relegated to the fetching of items here and there...not that she was complaining about that sort of thing. Having to see the bruising and sickly echoes of what was sure that filthy peasant's doing, to clean from her body the memory of his defilement, the blood that he'd spilled between her -
"Agnes! Get yourself together!" She heard whisper loudly at her, and she realized only then that her face was...wet, sodden with tears that seared upon her reddened cheeks shame she was quick to wipe away.
Now wasn't the time for this.
"I-I...I'm sorry, , I just...n-never mind." She muttered softly, looking away from the older woman and Anna to regain herself.
Noting the emptiness of the room, she couldn't blame the other nursemaids for leaving. Even Erik, in all his boisterousness and confidence, grew sickened by the sight of it, the damage that monster had done. Knowing that the unthinkable had happened to their fair princess, the unspeakable sin that would forever mark him in their minds, and right beneath their noses after they'd graciously allowed him refuge in the palace?! It was...unbelievable, or rather, she thought coldly as she turned back to face Anna, her deathly, still expression difficult to look away from, yet harder, still, to gaze upon, she couldn't help but think that this...was the natural conclusion when the wrong people mixed in with higher order of society.
They...take advantage of kindness that they aren't owed.
They sully the things they never deserved in the first place.
All because the prince thought he was more than what he was, not that she was blaming him for that. There was no way to know that he had such vile intentions, certainly not from the amazing act that he'd put forward of the caring and doting peasant-man that was kind enough to bring her back to Arendelle.
But Agnes soured.
Filth would always be filth, even if it's in a false package of chivalry.
In a way, the young woman thought with anger, there was no worse and more infuriating way to present kindness than through a lie.
His very existence was disgusting.
She...hatedhim, that filthy, stinking, fucking peasa -
"Help me lift her head. We must wrap these around to make sure they stay." The older woman ordered, though not unkindly, Agnes noted, nodding as she came to the left side of the bed and, with trembling, cautious hands, she carefully pulled the princess's head from the pillow, rooting her fingers along her scalp and under her neck to make sure that she was stable. She was patient as Ingrid began her work, pressing the start of the bandage lightly on another place on her head that weren't the sites of injury, spinning the rolling gauze around and around as Agnes near the bed in wait. However, her attention was drawn to the beads of sweat that dotted the young woman's forehead, a strange occurrence, she thought, considering that her body was still so cold.
It was as if she were trying to run a fever, too.
"That's strange. She's sick, too?" Agnes asked, looking to Ingrid for answers as the older woman considered her work. It wasn't often that she found her overseer at a loss of words or unsure of something, even less during a crisis as she seemed to have a knack for thinking up solutions during sticky, terrible situations. And in many ways, Agnes thought with uncertainty, she was hoping it would be much the same now.
That she would have an answer for this strange quirk that they charge had developed.
But she didn't.
She was at a loss, too.
"I...don't know yet. There's too many uncertainties to draw any lines or conclusions, so we best just try to keep her stable until the prince returns and the winter ends." Ingrid affirmed stiffly, holding fast to the bandages as she reached to upon the night stand closest to her and grabbed a pair of small scissors, snipping the end and delicately slipping the tail into the tucked portion of ringed gauze about her head. Sighing with relief that she could rest her arms, Agnes didn't miss the shakiness of the older woman's hands, nor the presence it had in her voice, reflecting on it as she set the princess's head back upon the pillows as gently as she could.
She figured that not much more could be done until this winter ended and the princess could be free of her curse, set about her by the queen. There was no question of the limited power they held in this situation, that they could only hope to aid in the best way that they could, but to suggest that they could actively change anything...that was out of the question.
They were only nursemaids after all.
However, in all of the years that she'd known Ingrid, the old bat never simply...deferred to powers greater than her own. Even before all of this, before Queen Elsa left, before her coronation, even, Ingrid was never the sort to simply defer to the powers that be.
She always questioned, and pondered, and thought about what could be done...so if she's waiting on the wings for this mess to blow over, then...things must really be bad.
Really, really bad.
"R-right...but..." Agnes started, staring long and hard at the princess as the former adjusted her body a bit before beginning to roll up the covers to cover her body, surely to preserve the warmth that was quickly escaping her frigid body. At her inquiry, Ingrid didn't turn to her, focusing instead on cleaning up their supplies, but she clearly listening, the occasional glance to the younger woman denoting curiosity above anything.
Signing, Agnes paused her motions and actions to finish her question.
"...do you think she'll be okay? I mean...she'll make it through this, right?" She all but whispered, giving the older woman a soft, pleading look that hoped against hope that she might bear an answer to even just that question. Ingrid had been around for a long time, seen far more than she had, and gods knew she'd done more, too. Perhaps it was unfair to even posit a question like that when things were still so uncertain, even more in the middle of this chaos, Agnes thought as she cast a glance out of the window of Anna's room and to the storm that raged and toiled beyond.
It was silly to think that just one woman could tell her with any degree of certainty that certainly things would be okay, that things could just...go back to normal.
But that didn't stop her from hoping that would be so.
Looking to her, Ingrid was silent for a moment.
She almost looked...mournful, and that never boded well.
Though to be fair, she didn't blame her for looking so grim, so...worn.
Even so, she smiled, grasping her softly as she did.
"Our princess is strong, you know. I...can't say for certain that things will be okay when she awakens, but...take comfort in knowing that she's certainly going to fight." She answered back firmly, casting a look to Anna almost...lovingly.
It was kindest that she'd seen Ingrid look.
Then it faded just as quickly.
"But for now, the best that we can do is just try to be here, to make sure she is taken care and looked after until all of this mess is...taken care of. We can only hope to do what we can, but..." She, too, looked out of the window.
"...I trust that Lord Hans will do right by her. I...have a good feeling about him." She said, appearing wistful and suddenly certain in a way that was a comfort in itself.
She'd met Lord Hans, shared words of kindness and comfort through him. She'd seen his strength, his nobility, his thoughtfulness, and found in it the makings of a leader.
Of their salvation.
She found herself smiling at the thought of him.
"Yeah. I do, too. Everything...is going to be okay. He'll see this through." She whispered, and curtly, Ingrid agreed. Turning back to the younger nursemaid, her superior was stern and stoic again, glancing at the entirety of her body with one swift motion of her eyes before waving her towards the door.
"Now, enough of this talk. You have yet to take your meal, and you'll need your strength going into the evening and night. Tell one of the other maids to take your place while you relax for a bit. You've worked hard enough." She ordered, thoroughly surprising Agnes.
Ingrid, telling her to relax?! She never thought she'd live long enough to hear the words leave the old crone's mouth.
Not that she was complaining or anything; a break sounded nice.
More than nice, actually.
"Wow, really?! Thank you! I'll go get Helga or something. She's a lazy frump anyway, she could use the work." Agnes dismissed crudely, casual in her tossed insult as she all but sprinted to the door, but not before getting stopped by the voice of her superior.
"Don't get to comfortable! And what have I told you about insulting Helga? You know she tries her best, be nice!" The older woman bit back at her, more akin to a mother scolding her child than with actual malice, and at her words, the younger nursemaid grinned, waving her goodbye before rushing the room, having not realized how hungry she was, but not before responding in kind.
"Oh, you know it's true, but fine. I'll go get the darling! Is that better?" She teased lightly before shrinking at Ingrid's souring expression, and she took her leave, wary to make worse a situation she didn't have to. There was no reason to overstay her welcome if she could help it, the young woman thought as she slowed her pace around the scattered nobles about the halls.
It was bad manners to be caught in such form, and she would never hear the end of it from Ingrid if she made the palace and their hailing house look bad by extension, but she could at least mind her uplifted mood, owed to hope that bubbly soundly beneath the surface following her and Ingrid's conversation.
Hans was capable, smart, thoughtful...all the makings of a proper leader at times like this. There was no reason to fret, to fear, so long as they had someone like him steering the ship, right? He'd not only saved Anna from the fiend, her thoughts shivering at the gross image of him...no, she mustn't think of such things.
He would be punished. He would feel the consequences of such treason, she thought with satisfaction as she came to the palace's great staircases, and the smell of food, likely Ivar's cooking, she thought with ravenous hunger as the smell of fiskesuppe filled her nose. The perfect, snowed-in meal, she thought, as she hit the ground floor and headed towards the kitchen. On the way, she encountered a tall, prudish woman, and with a sneering, snarky smile, she called out to her.
"Oh, right! called you to help upstairs, Helga. Don't keep her waiting now!" She announced smugly, and with a grumble, the woman moved in the opposite direction, shooting killing looks at her as she did so until she disappeared up the stairs.
'That never gets old...'She thought with a grin as she made it to the kitchen and was at once greeted by Erik and a few others that were already served their meals. Grabbing a bowl from the servant's counter, she waved heartily to Ivar, the gruff, large man huffing with greeting before returning to his work and she did much the same, taking her share and joining Erik and the others as the warm stew beckoned and begged to be eaten.
Taking up a spoon, she tried to content herself with her meal.
Everything would be okay.
-(Elsewhere, same time)-
"Elsa." He started, and without a wasted breath, the act began, the man donning the most concerned and fearful expression he could manage as he walked forward carefully, taking in the sight of the woman before him.
This was the final stretch, and with her at her most unstable, her most...volatile, there were a lot of things that could go wrong, he thought, his piercing, emerald eyes picking her at seams to read her every move. The first few times, he'd stumbled into this without anything in mind, stumbling, literally, into this mess and he could recall it just as well, the result of his hubris and ignorance.
Looking upon the ice, he knew where each drop of his blood had landed, smeared and bright and terrible against the pale surface as his body laid frozen and broken on the fjord.
Where he'd landed wrong and snapped his neck.
Where he'd been impaled time and time again by shards of ice, great and large pillars piercing just about every inch of his body.
And all the same...where he'd drawn his last breath too many times to count.
Death wasn't anything new to him.
Not new at all.
Still, this was to be the last time. He'd read this story enough, written and re-written this tale a thousand times just to be able to turn the page.
It wouldn't slip through his fingers again.
"Why are you out here? Come back to the palace, Elsa! We...don't need to be enemies!" Hans shouted over the blistering cold and howling wind, putting on the best voice that he could. This bitch had been cause of enough grief and irritation in more ways than one, but he had to be patient, he reminded himself, watching as her confused expression evolved to one of conflict.
"You're right! So just stay out of my way!" She screamed back, stalking forward before Hans stepped forward, putting out a hand to stop her pursuit.
"Stay out of the way of what? This little revenge trip you have going on?! Elsa, we can't afford to put Anna on hold for this, you know that! This can't be worth her life, can it?!" He pushed on, standing firm as he watched her carefully.
He just needed to push her in the right direction.
To make her feel emotions intense enough to get this final ball rolling...just like before, but, he thought carefully, bracing and priming his muscle for any sudden movement she might make, not too much.
She was unpredictable, yet, he thought snidely as he repressed a smile, so terribly predictable all the same.
Considering his words, the conflict on her face grew, reflecting the clear turmoil that she was surely going on in her mind at the moment.
Just as he'd hoped it would be.
"I know! But you can't...you can't honestly expect me to let the man who would dare touch Anna slip away quietly, do you?! Would you want that?! For someone that apparently loves her, you'reterriblyrelaxed about this!" She barked back spitefully, crystalline blue eyes holding such vigor and intensity in them that for anyone else facing such an accusation, it might have sparked outrage.
But Hans couldn't help it, the cruel irony in her statement, almost chuckling at how amusing it was.
Him? Relaxed?
Oh, she didn't know the half of it.
"Relaxed?! I can't say I'm relaxed when the entirety of Arendelle relies on me to fix a problemyoumade. Sorry I can't throw tantrums and fits whenever I want, Elsa, but this isn't about me, and you know that. And last time I checked..." He began, internally knowing that he was toeing a very tenuous line, "...it wasn't about you, either! It's about your sister, and the love of my life, withering away because you can't bear to put your feelings aside for a single second!" He shouted, and he could see it, the hurt that rang across her features as her expression went cold and sour.
"It's...not like that...you know that's not why - " The woman started the storm around them kicking up in intensity as she tried to defend her actions, and with that, Hans knew he had the line, she'd taken the bait.
Now he just needed to start to reel her in, carefully now.
He was entering delicate territory.
"Oh, yeah? Is that so? Because I don't see you even attempting to stop the storm. No...no, you're out here chasing him when you should be trying a little harder to figure out how your own powers work. And I'm the relaxed one? Give me a break." He spat, closing the distance a bit more as the storm's strength began to rise, and to his right, where the guards above were surely in wait, he saw that they began to fade out in the white that enveloped the palace beyond.
He smiled slightly.
He was on the right track.
"I am trying! It's just...I don't know, okay! I...listen. I know this is about Anna, and in truth..." She paused, scrambling to find the right word, but she managed to, continuing with "...I wish none of this had ever happened, but I can't...he can't be allowed to just walk away from this! The sooner I can get to him, the sooner I can help Anna, the sooner I can figure out how to stop all of this, but I need you to move so I can get to Kristoff! Please!" She all but begged, the storm growing worse until just the two of them remained out here in the wastes of the Arendelle.
Hans thought about it.
There were so many directions that he could take this now, so many places where he could put her to the wringer.
Maybe he could continue to blame her for what happened, for this storm.
Maybe he could blame Anna's condition, her sickness, on her.
There were so many possibilities, so many ways, to make her feel as miserable as he wanted her to.
It was hard to pick just one.
Despite needing to air on the side of caution when regarding her, he knew that there was part of him that wanted the horrible satisfaction of hurting her in another way.
He'd gone this far, hadn't he? This close to her end and after all of the bullshit he's had to go through to get here...shouldn't he be allowed to have a little fun?
Smiling suddenly, he didn't miss the returning confusion as her face contorted to match it.
No...he deserved to mess around, didn't he?
"You know...I gotta say...maybe I haven't been entirely honest with you." Hans spoke, leaning back, relaxed, on on of his feet as he looked to her, gaze darkening with each word he uttered.
"What...what are you talking about?" Elsa responded, body tensing as Hans loosed a cold, humored chuckle, ringing out just a coarsely and with frigid tones as the bitter winter that blew around them. Running a hand through his hair, he sighed with mock guilt, and she appeared to pick up on its insincerity without much time to make it out.
"I mean, I was expecting an intense response from you and all, she is your sister and everything, but...I didn't really, give you the right story. I'm sure you can understand, can't you? I needed you to...do this, for me. To overreact in the way that you do. How else could I have gotten all of the pieces to fit the way I needed them to?" He continued, never dropping his smile from his face as he strung her along.
Her patience for his words were waning, he knew.
But it was oh so sweet seeing her ponder and attempt to connect the meaning of his words as it all began to dawn on her, a look of horror marked like lightning, strking with fierce presence across her face as she began to close the gap between them, confusion and horror growing in time with the realization was surely setting on her features.
"Hans..." The wind ripped across them, twisting and coiling around the two at their master's hand, her eyes shaded with earned rage as she stepped with rising anger across the ice.
He didn't move.
"...what did you do?" She whispered dangerously, but he could hear it, the tremble in her voice.
His smile grew.
He loved that look, the sound of her voice, the anguish writhing beneath and bubbling to the surface.
It made him...excited.
But she deserved the truth, too.
"What I needed to. You understand, don't you? But that's not enough for you, is it?" He started, tensing as he prepared to move, knowing she was due to crack any minute, any second now.
It wouldn't be long.
"No...I'll tell you just what I did."
-(Same time...) -
"Kristoff?"Olaf whispered, almost too stunned to speak, jumping back when he heard him make a sound, it's presence too muted and garble to really make sense of what he'd said, but it was loud enough and broken enough to know it was a pain sound.
Kristoff was hurt.
Bad.
"Kristoff!" Rushing in, he paused when he felt something...wet slosh beneath his foot, something now cold and sticky as the frost around them from the frigidity of the storm, made it solid. Looking down, he saw, in the low light of the room, the space almost pitch black, save for the flickering light of lanterns out in the halls of the dungeon, thick, clinging red, crawling with dark tendrils into his pristine snow with ominous presence.
This smelled like metal, too.
'What...is this stuff...and why is there so much of it?" When his eyes trailed back to Kristoff, the snowman grew even more concerned as, since he was closer to the young man, he could see that he was covered in, from his face to his ankles, he was slick with the stuff.
Something wasn't right here.
In fact, he thought, feeling a little sick at the sight of it, it was still coming from him, thick, trickling lines, fresh and warm, dripped down his agape mouth and onto his bare lap, the creature taking in the sight of his body, having never seen a human like...this.
Ignoring the cold liquid, he stepped forward, reaching out to touch him when the man opened his remaining good eye, though even that was dark with splotches and marks he didn't know the name of. Minding his distended jaw, Olaf's brushed against it, Kristoff moaning in pain at the contact as the snowman observed his hand and the dripping red that slid between his twig fingers.
It was...warm.
This stuff was...warm.
But seeing as he'd hurt him, even though he didn't quite understand how he had, Olaf pulled away, apologetic in expression.
"Sorry! Did that hurt? I just...you'releaking! This red stuff looks important; should I help make it stop?" Olaf asked, wanting desperately to help, though he couldn't really understand what any of this meant or even what was going on. Humans didn't usually leak, as far as he could tell, and they certainly never looked so...beat up before. Who did this?
And why?
"H-he...He...lp...m-me..."Kristoff mumbled, his words disjointed and broken, but coherent enough for Olaf to make them out.
"Help? Oh, you want help? Like to get out of here or - " The snowman blinked when Kristoff began to slump down, going limp in his binds.
"Kristoff?"He whispered, unsure of what to do.
Inspecting him closer, Olaf could tell just how tired Kristoff looked, the man struggling to speak for reasons Olaf could only guess had to do with the...strange angle of his jaw. It was as if he couldn't close it, the snowman pondered as he listened to the young man try and fail to form jumbled words again, only to fall silent again. His concern grew, though, when he noticed his eyelids slowly begin to close, as if he were going to sleep. Tapping him didn't get much of a response, he found, the creature doing his best to rouse him gently but after a bit, the man didn't stir, his eyes falling shut until he was out.
"Hey! Wake up! I...Oh! I can get help! Just stay here, or, I mean, you can't move, but...nevermind!" He exclaimed, conjuring the idea quickly as he stepped back, giving him a once over as he started towards the door, making a note in his mind about his original objective: Anna.
Of course, in the back of his mind, he knew that he really needed to get to her, that she needed him, wherever she was, but he knew just as well that he couldn't leave Kristoff like...this! He needed someone that could help him get out of this place, he thought, honestly remarking the deathly, ugly stone that encompassed their surroundings.
And it was made better by the fact that Anna was looking for him anyway, right?
They could help him and get to Anna all the same!
I'll be back, okay! Don't leak out too fast, I'll be back with Elsa!" He called back gently, not wanting to make too much noise, but loud enough that he thought the man would hear him.
Or, he hoped he would, at least.
Turning around and closing the door just enough to leave it cracked, he ran out into the hall, and back next door where the massive whole that Elsa left remained, the snowman vaguely surprised that he was leaving back out of it so soon.
But he had to be quick.
With the raging storm that pressed against his body, he fought long and hard to keep himself grounded as he trekked forward.
He needed Elsa.
-(Same time)-
"Well?! What is it?! Spit it out before I - " She paused when he held up a hand, stopping her short, though that didn't stave off her annoyance.
She didn't have time for this.
Not him and his coy little games.
It was only serving to piss her off.
But her pressuring question only seemed to amuse him more.
"Impatient, are we? Well, let me cut right to it, then. I'd hate to keep you waiting, then." His response came carefully, meticulously, she could tell, as if...he were calculating each and ever word he said with precision she couldn't pinpoint the purpose of.
She was on edge.
This was a completely different Hans in comparison to the doting, fearful man that had all but switched like a light in just a few moments' time.
It disturbed her how easily that façade seemed to fall away.
"See, I really should be thanking you, Elsa. For weakening Anna in the way you did...for having that repugnant oaf bring her to me on a silver platter. It made retrieving so much easier...and what followed even easier." The man hummed, thumbing the hilt of his sword and looking about wistfully as if...recalling a memory, a pleasant one.
"What are you getting at here? What are you on about? What did you - " She was stopped short of finishing by an impatient huff, the man losing his temper for the slightest of moments.
"By the Gods, don't you think I'm getting to that? The set up is important, dear." He spat, but just as quickly he eased, throwing her for a loop as he began to saunter up to her.
She felt herself grow cold at his expression, the...dark that breathed through him and his eyes, leaving nothing but two, violent pits behind.
Was...this even the same person?
"Hans...please...what did you do?" She whispered, eyes widening with realization she didn't want to come to terms with.
'No...no, no, he wouldn't have - 'At her thoughts, he almost appeared able to hear what she was thinking, a knowing, cocky look blooming on his face, tearing a smile on his lips.
"There it is. That look. I wish you could see. It looks wonderful on you. Just...perfect." Hans spoke softly, leaning forward and placing his face to hers as his lips grazed her ear.
She felt cold.
"No..."She whispered, and he hummed.
A soft soft, an almost gentle sound, and he answered back.
"I did it, Elsa." She could feel him grin wickedly as the words tumbled from his mouth.
"I raped Anna."
