Chapter Text
Elsa had made a mistake. It wasn’t huge, but it was there, staring at her from the grain ledger. A number in red, that had once been black.
In truth, she’d made a tangled series of mistakes. Her cynical side thought she’d been making them since birth, but in this particular case, it had been since her coronation. The sudden frost in the middle of summer had doomed many of Arendelle’s crops.
The farmers concentrated on hardier crops that could withstand the harsh winters.. When there was warning; the crispness of the air that promised something more once the sky fell drowsy. But there had been no warning. None but her own heart. The barley was damaged, the oats nearly unsalvageable. And now that winter truly was approaching, Elsa was beginning to see just how dire the situation had become.
She’d tried to when it was first brought to her attention, despite the key details not being shared with her until early autumn. Her people still feared her. There was no way of softening that fact. They feared if they upset her, she would… Well. She would put them into this very same predicament.
Regardless, she acted swiftly. Arendelle often went through lean periods, though they had never approached the brink of a famine before. But this was not the typical ebb and flow of the seasons, and Elsa knew she would have to ask for help.
It was the one thing she hated doing, but as Queen she had to put her personal feelings aside for the betterment of her people. No matter what.
Wesselton was their closest resource, but that was hardly an option. She knew she would receive aid from Corona if she asked for it--and she had--but there was only so much they could spare. That left Vaas, Svetland, Leide, Ostar, and… the Southern Isles.
The last was completely out of the question, despite its relative proximity, so she brokered a deal with Vaas. Elsa had been generous in her offer. Arendelle would trade a variety of hides and leathers, both processed and not, as well as refined ore from the northern mountains. In exchange, Vaas would provide them with enough grain to sustain them through the swiftly-approaching winter, until they could plant new crops in the spring.
But something had gone wrong.
“Kai? If I might beg your assistance for a moment,” she called over her shoulder as one of her father’s most loyal men helped tidy the room. They’d hired new servants since opening the gates, but there were few she trusted beyond their normal duties.
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
She was seated at a desk of polished mahogany, a shipping manifest at the top of what was quickly becoming a large stack of papers. She always seemed to flirt with the precipice of chaos where paperwork was concerned, but today’s venture was particularly harrowing.
“This is the manifest from the three ships that returned from Vaas this morning. The dock workers accounted for all of the bins, but it’s far less than what we agreed upon.”
“And they are certain there was nothing more aboard the vessels?”
“Yes.” She pressed two fingers to her temple. “I oversaw the operation myself. They unloaded everything. I thought perhaps I had made a mistake…” Her gaze flicked between the two papers. No. She was certain she had not.
“Perhaps it was an honest miscount on their part, Majesty, and they are sending the rest of the grain on a different vessel. Have you received any correspondence from the king?” He hid his worry well, but Elsa could detect the slightest hint of it.
She sifted through the unopened letters. Usually she had broken many a seal by this hour, but this morning a stack still remained. When she found the emblem of Vaas, a proud brown bear standing atop a jagged cliff, she opened the letter with a practiced hand.
But the more she read, the more unsteady it became.
HRH, Queen Elsa of Arendelle
The Kingdom of Vaas thanks you for your gift. It will certainly add weight in the consideration of any future trade negotiations with Arendelle. For the time being, however, I must regretfully inform you that His Majesty, King Erik III, cannot foster an agreement as was previously arranged.
While he would like to express sympathy toward the plight of Arendelle, and has on good faith offered surplus grain from our harvest, His Majesty feels it is in the Kingdom’s best interest to distance itself from Arendelle.
We graciously accept your gift, and perhaps we can re-examine our negotiations in the future.
Lord Aleksander
Steward of the King
“Gift…” The word was barely a whisper amid a frigid current. The telltale crackle of ice snaking its way across the desk was all but ignored. “Gift?” The second was more forceful, as she stared at the letter with a mix of indignation and honest shock.
But after a few moments, she slipped cooly into the place she always arrived when confronted with such things. Of course they had gone back on the deal. Arendelle was practically begging for assistance, put into the most vulnerable position she could remember. And with her as Queen...
“Your Majesty…” There was the fear she expected.
Elsa looked up. Despite her ever-present gloves, ice covered her desk and everything on it, beginning to spread outward. The only thing not frozen was the very letter that had inspired it, crumpled in her hand as her fingers curled around it.
She drew in a long breath through her nose, closing her eyes. Don’t feel. When she slowly opened them again, the ice was gone.
“I am sure Your Majesty can make another trade. Perhaps if you would invite the dignitaries to Arendelle, they would be more accommodating.”
“And what if this happens again? We’re running out of time, Kai,” she snapped. “And I don’t have the patience for monarchs who wish to put my peoples’ lives in danger simply because of--”
Because of me, she thought. Because of my actions.
She felt so lost. Papa would know what to do, she was sure of it. But then again, he wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place. “Forgive me…”
“Always, Your Majesty.”
She gave a small smile at that, then returned her gaze to the letter. A sigh escaped her lips, and she pressed it straight with her palms before banishing it to the far side of her desk. “Thank you for your counsel. I would… Like some time alone, if I may.”
“Of course.”
The door closed softly behind him and Elsa tilted her head back, drawing in another shuddering breath. The people of Arendelle were going to starve. This was not one of Anna’s oh-so-slightly-embellished stories. Thousands of people depended on her. Thousands of people feared her. Some may have even hated her.
Her gaze cast toward her father’s portrait. Strong. Regal. Yes, he would know what to do. Conceal. Don’t feel. Don’t let it show. She could take care of this. She could fix it, and no one would be the wiser.
But how?
She used two fingers to sift through the remaining letters, one by one, as if they might hold some answer. It was unlikely, but there was still a glimmer of hope within her that hadn’t been swallowed by the winter winds. It was Anna’s doing, she knew. But Elsa could handle a slight spark of optimism if it meant having her sister back.
Her finger moved across a raised seal. Tracing its outline, her breath caught in her throat. A swan, pressed into bright red wax. The seal of the Southern Isles. Elsa jerked her hand up as though she’d been burned, and her teeth clenched together, stirring an ache in her jaw.
It was wrong to feel such utter disgust and hatred toward a place she had never been--especially as the temperature within the drawing room plummeted--but Elsa didn’t care. What that scheming, inhuman wretch of a man had done to her sister was unforgivable, and it would forever ruin the Southern Isles for her. All of the times she had wished to see them when she was a child, alone in her room with only her father’s atlas--no more.
Now it was the last place she wanted to be. All because of him. If she had been the object of his manipulation, she imagined it would feel different. Empty. Hollow. An ache that was just as strong as the anger she would feel toward herself for ever trusting him in the first place. But no. He had preyed upon Anna. Anna who wanted nothing more than human companionship. Who thought she was in love because she knew no different. The easiest mark, and one only a coward would choose.
Elsa’s breath curled in an icy white mist before her. What could they possibly want? If it was an apology--which was certainly due--it was owed to Anna, not her. But it had landed in her study, so likely it was a jumble of politics awash with false pleasantries and the condescending sneer that she liked to think was worn by all royals from the Southern Isles.
A swan, indeed.
She found herself slicing through that swan, breaking the seal, and suddenly the letter was laid out before her, written in flowing, elegant script. She scanned to the bottom, to verify who had penned it. Likely another steward. But to her surprise, it was signed “Queen Adeline of the Southern Isles.”
Elsa’s lips pursed. Her father had always said the Queen was a kind and fair woman, if a bit timid for what was expected of her position. But then, according to Anna, Hans had seemed kind and fair, as well. Perhaps he learned from his mother.
Her eyes narrowed, and after a moment of debating her own foolishness, she read the letter from the beginning.
HRH, Queen Elsa of Arendelle,
If you have opened this letter, then you must truly be a kinder soul than I. I know what you must think of us--of our kingdom--and I cannot place any fault with you. The crimes my son perpetuated were beyond reprehensible, and nothing I say can ever erase them. I can only offer my deepest regrets to you, and to your sister.
When I originally penned this letter months ago, my intention was to invite you to the Southern Isles, to ask for your counsel in the matter of my son’s imprisonment, as I feel you had--and still have--a right to decide. But my husband felt it would behoove us all to act swiftly in this matter, and so Hans’ punishment was decided by the King, with counsel from our eldest son.
Elsa shook her head, one hand tangling through her hair. Would she have accepted that invitation? Doubtful. As much as she wanted to see that man buried in proper comeuppance, she wanted no part in the process.
As Arendelle is considered an ally of the Southern Isles, Hans’ crime was determined as treason. I could not bear the sentence of death, and I came forward with a differing proposal. Hans was to spend five years as a servant to the throne. During this time, he was to serve each of his brothers in turn, and through them serve the people of our kingdom. I had hoped it would provide discipline, perspective, and perhaps the attention he so needed. I had hoped it would change him, and return him to the son I remembered.
“You have to be joking,” she murmured. What next? A slap on the wrist? No one changed.
But she was no fool. She realized the irony in her thinking. Her so-called allies believed the same of her. She was a monster. Incapable of change. But Hans… Hans was the worst kind of monster. One that could blend with the crowds and hide in plain sight.
My husband says I am a bleeding heart. Perhaps that is true, but I am still hopeful that my son will grow from this experience. If he has not made a very noticeable change in five years, I have agreed to let the king pass full judgement upon him. In the meantime, he is watched at all hours, and a prisoner within his home, only leaving it to perform his duties.
I say this not because I believe it will satisfy you. Were I in your position, I would be inclined toward nothing less than death. But it has occurred to me many times over the past few months that Hans owes service not just to the Southern Isles, but to Arendelle, as well. Elsa’s breath caught in her throat. No. She didn’t want to read any more of this. It was true. She could not deny that it was true. But having him here would fix nothing. In fact, it would very likely exacerbate the situation well beyond her tolerance. She would not be his keeper. As a representing dignitary on the North Coastal Trade Council, I have been privy to several misconceptions centered around you and, if you will forgive my bluntness, your curse. I imagine trade will be very difficult for you, if it has not been already. It is unfair, on all counts, but I find that is the unfortunate nature of politics.
I would like to extend an offer, Your Highness. I would like to offer Hans as an advisor for the purposes of trade. I make this offer knowing that you are not likely to accept, but please understand that I have no hidden agenda. What I have stated is what I desire. I wish my son well, as much as I wish him to serve for his crimes.
She let out an incredulous little laugh before her hand softly covered her mouth. Of course she was not likely to accept. The idea was preposterous. And yet she found herself reading on, as if unable to tear away her horrified gaze from a shipwreck upon the rocks.
I have taught him what I know, and as you have more than witnessed, he is particularly adept at getting others to acquiesce to his whims. I believe this trait could be useful, and if anyone should make use of it for the purpose of good, it is you. Name your terms, and we will abide by them in full. While I do not expect you will wish to re-open trade between our great nations, I hope this can be a step toward mending our alliance.
With Warm Regards,
Queen Adeline of the Southern Isles
Elsa stared at the letter, her breathing measured. The flurries that had swirled around suddenly ceased, as if sucked back into the vortex of time and space. Surely this Queen was totally and irreversibly mad beyond all reason. As long as Elsa lived, Prince Hans of the Southern Isles would never set foot in Arendelle again.
How dare she presume. How dare she act sympathetic to their plight. And how dare she try to win any measure of sympathy for her monster of a son.
But… she was right. The sensation twisted in Elsa’s gut, for she knew what Adeline said of the trade alliance was true. She had experienced it firsthand with Vaas, and instinctively she knew she would get no other response. Not so soon after the incident. Not while winter’s scars still healed.
By the time they forgot--by the time they forgave--a third of the kingdom would be gone. Lost because of her own carelessness. Her own selfishness.
And she could not refute that Hans’ manipulations would make him well-suited for the job. She had been taught how to play this game--her father had seen to that--but how could she play a game she was already condemned to lose?
Elsa’s blood froze in her veins. The air thinned around her. She was in the mountains again, but this time it was not of her own accord. She was trapped there, and the howling wind was far from the comfort she imagined.
Don’t feel. She couldn’t afford to feel. She was the Queen. Queen of a frozen kingdom that was starving by her own hand. And as Queen, she had to do what was best for her people. No matter what.
Her shaky hand reached for the pen, willing it not to freeze solid in her grasp.
How was she going to explain this to Anna?