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Chapter Text

Anna woke when the corner of the door hit her in the ribs, making her curl into herself and bang her head against the wall.

“Owww,” she howled, and her mother gasped. Stars blinked in Anna’s vision, and she watched as her mother carefully opened the door the rest of the way and kneeled on the ground. She cupped her daughter’s face with one hand, the other reaching for spot Anna’s hands were gripping protectively.

“Anna,” she said, “I’m so sorry, are you alright?” The moment she confirmed her daughter wasn’t in any real pain, her brow furrowed. “Why … were you on the floor?”

“I was waiting for you to be done with your meeting,” Anna moaned, still clutching her abdomen. “I fell asleep.”

The queen tilted her head, expression sympathetic. “It is rather early for you. And why were you so eager to…”

Anna, despite her sore ribs, gave her most darling smile.

Her mother sighed. “Anna, I told you…”

“Pleeeeeease,” Anna begged. “Please please please, I’ve never wanted anything more!”

The queen took Anna’s hands in hers and pulled both of them to their feet. She shook her head the entire time. “You’re only eleven, my sunshine. You’ll have plenty of time to travel when you’re older.”

Anna, hands clasped tight in her mother’s comforting grip, hung back, so her head lulled and her long braids swung behind her. “The gates have been closed for forever,” she said, her voice a needling whine. “I’ve read every book in the castle, I’ve made up stories for every painting, I’ve named every spider in every dusty hallway! There’s nothing left to do, and I’m wasting away.” At this, she released one of her hands to sweep it dramatically over her forehead, causing her to swerve off balance and nearly drop to the ground.

With one strong tug, her mother brought her upright. “If you’re so bored, you could practice your languages - your tutors tell me you could do with some improvement.”

Anna sent her a mother a scathing look. “Why do I need to know new languages if there’s no new people to meet?”

“Anna…” her mother dropped her hand, pressing it against her temple instead. This was an old, old argument. Her mother was more relenting than her father was, always eager to sneak a secret piece of chocolate cake or make a hysterically cruel comment about some fuddy duddy lord’s portrait. Her mother had not been born royalty, and apparently people said it showed. Anna did not care; her father may have favored Elsa, but their mother was Anna’s, and she could not possibly love her any more than she already did.

(Her parents insisted, of course, that they did not play favorites. But Anna had watched the king fuss over Elsa her whole life. She was the heir, of course. She didn’t hold it against him.)

“Please, Mama,” she said, hands wrapped tight in her skirts. “Just one trip. And then I’ll never ask for anything ever ever again, for the rest of my life.”

The queen looked down at her with those eyes that had enchanted Arendelle’s crown prince so many years ago. “Oh, I’m sure,” she said. “Until the next thing comes along.”

“Cross my heart,” Anna said, solemnly making the motion across her soft vest. “Never. Again.”

Once more, her mother sighed. “Go to breakfast, Anna. We’ll talk about this later.”

She turned Anna towards the hall that led to the dining room, patting her back. Anna looked over her shoulder. “Never ever ever ever again,” she repeated.

“Go, Anna.”

With stiff automaton like movements, Anna marched down the hall, running over the conversation again to see if she could find any clues she had any measure of success. She hoped she did; otherwise she had a sore head and ribs for nothing.

Like always, when she reached Elsa’s door in the hall, her steps faltered. For the last few years, she had forced herself to keep walking instead of whispering something through the gap in the door. Elsa would not come out for any plea, no matter how desperate. It wasn’t like sympathy for Anna’s situation would make her change her tune; she was the reasons the rules were in place anyway. … Then again, maybe she wanted Anna gone; then she could have an even easier time pretending her sister didn’t exist.

Anna found the door’s keyhole, and was amazed she had to stoop so much to look through it. Anna hadn’t realized how much taller she had gotten since the last time she did this. She could only make out Elsa’s bed - neat as always - with no indication of whether or not she was there.

“Hey, Elsa,” she said, feeling a little silly. “If you speak to Mama and Papa today, can you please convince them I am totally responsible and grown up enough to come with them on their trip next month?”

As usual, there was no answer.

“Well,” Anna said. “Figured it was worth a shot.”

She straightened, and then continued her walk. She had woken very very early to intercept her mother, having heard from Gerda that she was meeting with the maidservants. Other queens may have balked at having a reduced staff that would require so much more work and interactions from them; but not Queen Iduna. “Truthfully,” she confided once, “I’m grateful for it. I had ladies in waiting before you were born, and they made me so nervous - they were all higher born than I was and would give me such looks.” She shuddered. “I like it much more like this; it’s cozier.”

And lonelier, in Anna’s opinion. But she could barely recall what the castle was like with a full staff. The only thing she could remember clearly from when she was that little was playing with Elsa, fond and cruel memories that wouldn’t leave her alone. For years she had wondered if there was a connection between the two; but no one would answer and no one would even confirm that the two were tied together. Her fingers reached for the braid with the white streak and tugged. That was yet another mystery; her parents told her she was born with it, but it was absent from all the royal portraits.

Maybe the painters had just thought it was ugly and had elected to keep it out … although that had not kept them from accurately portraying the nose of the lord in her mother’s favorite portrait. Perhaps it was only the young ladies who needed to beautified.

It was just one more mystery that might only be answered when the gates reopened, and Anna was starting tor was beginning to fear that would not be happening in her lifetime.

Oh, to have an escape …

She continued her march down and left, right then left again (she closed her eyes automatically after the first turn; she had about mastered navigating the castle blindfolded. Next project would be blindfolded and backwards.) The kitchen was filled with a stifling heat and a stupendous smell. There was an empty tray on a counter with a teacup and few dainty crumbs - Elsa, unlike her younger sister, was a morning person through and through. Anna stalked through the kitchen, eyes drifting shut again, following her nose.

She collided into a warm, sturdy body, who let out a big oof of a gasp.

“Oh, princess Anna!” gasped Henrietta, hands over heart. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you.”

“That’s okay. I crash into people all the time,” she said, grinning. “It’s my favorite way to say hello.” Her collision with Henrietta had dusted her dress with flour, to her delight. It made her feel like she was wearing snow. As much as she loved spring (her birthday next month marked the end of it) she was always thinking about winter. It brought memories that even Elsa’s icy silence couldn’t sour, and she was allowed to drink her weight in hot chocolate.

Henrietta smiled. “I was about to bring you your breakfast, your highness. The pastry chef made these just this morning.”

Their pastry chef was the only person in the castle who was not Arendellian born, though he had lived in the country for the past twenty years. His name was Ernst, and he was from Sapporia. The sole reason Anna paid any attention in her Sapporian lessons was so she could string together the words to request speciality cakes from him. (Her efforts delighted him, and they were thick as thieves, despite his heavy accent and wide mustache making his words very hard to understand.)

Henrietta pointed her towards the fresh tray of pastries and they admired them together.

“I’ll have it prepared for you immediately, your highness,” Henrietta said.

“Thank you,” Anna said. As soon as Henrietta turned away to gather the table settings needed for her breakfast, Anna shoved one pastry in her mouth and another into her pocket. As she chewed happily, enjoying the flaky layers and buttery taste, she noticed two were already missing. They must of have been the source of the crumbs on Elsa’s tray.

She wondered if her sister loved them as much as she did, and then dismissed the thought.

It didn’t matter. And she would never know.

Yet another useless mystery for the list.

Instead of reading in her study, or her bedroom, Anna was reading in her parents sitting room.

Why?

It was the perfect place to aggressively ignore them as they packed for their trip.

It had been two weeks since she had tried to convince her mother and got bruised ribs in return for her troubles, and it still stung. (Well, not the ribs, those were fine.)  Every attempt fell on deaf ears. Even Elsa had weighed in during one of their rare all-family dinners.

“If you let her go,” her older sister murmured into her soup, “at least that’ll be the end of her talking about it.”

Elsa had gotten snotty at fifteen. Sometimes Anna missed the silent ghost that had haunted her earlier years ...

Now, only a week before her parents’ trip, Kai and Gerda were gathering clothes, checking things off a piece of parchment, etc, while her mother tapped her finger on her chin in thought and issues orders. She knew better than to try to force Anna to speak to her, so they were actually in a rather companionable silence as they avoided eye contact.

Her father, however, was always much slower to pick up on Anna’s games.

“Oh, Anna,” he said, brightly. “Exactly who I wanted to see.”

Anna, delighted to have a partner in her ignoring game, turned up her nose every so slightly and turned her head away, nestling deeper into her arm chair.

A moment later, she heard footsteps, and lifted her gaze over the top of the chair to watch her father walk over to her mother and smile. She shifted so she could see them better - but kept her book fixed over her face.

“We received a rather interesting letter today,” said Anna’s father, and held a hand out in Kai’s direction. With a knowing smile, the attendant handed over a crisp white letter, folded in itself.

“Ah, yes,” said Anna’s mother, a tad theatrically. “Incredibly interesting. A thrilling read.”

Anna rose an eyebrow over her book, but didn’t take the bait. She was going to fully use this sulk; maybe if she did this every time her parents left on a trip, she could be out of the castle when she was in her thirties.

“Always such a pleasure to hear from other kingdoms,” her mother continued, louder. “Especially when they have certain revelations.”

Anna frowned and dropped her book to her lap. “Are you actually going to read it to me, or are you just gloating?”

“Read it for yourself,” said her mother, handing the letter over.

Anna’s frowned harder, but took it in both hands, scanning the words. The handwriting was unfamiliar, and it took her brain a moment to transcribe it into actual words, even though the lettering was actually quite nice.

It is always a pleasure to receive correspondence from … we’re delighted to hear… Caleb is in excellent health … It would be the greatest honor …

Blah, blah, blah.

She almost handed it back to her mother, angry she had tricked her into reading some boring letter - to, what, improve her vocabulary? when her eyes scanned over her name.

She read the sentence quickly, and then started from the beginning again, reading the entire letter with a pounding heart. She read it once more before her eyes darted up her mother’s.

“Really?” she said, eyes wide. “Really really?”

Her mother nodded, and Anna cried out in delight and threw her arms around her. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“Hold on,” her father, said, laughing. “There will be a few rules and conditions to go over first--”

“I agree,” said Anna, quickly. “To everything. Automatically.” She released her mother so she could hug her father too. “Oh, thank you, Papa, you won’t regret it!”

“I dearly hope you’re right,” said her father, still chuckling.

Anna could burst with happiness.

It would be the greatest honor to have Princess Anna as our guest while you are traveling the North Sea, for however long you will need. We are sure she will feel quite at home at here and will be warmly welcomed by the princes; my youngest is quite close to her in age. We eagerly await your arrival.

Yours sincerely,

Aleksandra Sofia of the Southern Isles

Chapter Text

For the next two weeks, Anna immersed herself in trip planning. She spent hours deciding on which of her things to pack - or, well, on what to pack in the scarce trunk space that wasn’t already accounted for. As an early birthday present, her parents had ordered her new dresses, which would be completed right before they left. The sleeves were daringly short, and material was much thinner than she was used to. It seemed to float right above her skin during the fitting. The Southern Isles had much hotter summers, and even the lightest wool skirts she owned would be too warm for the trip.

She had learnt about the weather in a book from the castle’s library - she had scoured the collection for any information on the country. The best find was a family tree, where she discovered that the kingdom had twelve princes! One for each month of the year. The king, Caleb II, had been married twice - the first queen died before Anna was born, and the second was Aleksandra, the one who had invited Anna to stay. She hoped she was every bit as lovely as her letter had implied, and that her sons were kind. Two of them were twins. Twins! She had never met a set of twins before! It must be impossible to feel lonely with a family like that - to have more siblings than she could count on her fingers.

Anna was so excited she could burst. She spent the fortnight skipping through the castle, grabbing whatever servant she past in the halls so she could swing them around in a giddy dance. She had promised all of them gifts when she came back.

“The entire summer,” Henrietta sniffed. “You’ll be so big when you get back!”

“The whole summer at least,” Anna corrected, bouncing on the balls on her feet. “Mama and Papa don’t know how long their trip will take, so I might not even be leaving the isles until August!”

As for why they were taking this trip in the first place, that was something she hadn’t actually got an answer for. Whatever purpose her mother and father were traveling for, it wasn’t in the Southern Isles. They would restock supplies there, make sure Anna was settled in, and then continue their journey without her. When whatever that was was finished, they’d return for Anna and then go home. This wasn’t entirely unusual - they had taken several trips before that they had avoided talking about in detail, and in this case, not asking endless questions was one of the conditions of Anna coming with them.

The idea of coming home was already agonizing to Anna, and she hadn’t even left yet. This was going to be the best summer of her life.

Kai and Gerda would be accompanying them and acting as Anna’s minders during her visit - another one of her father’s requirements. Anna didn’t mind one bit - she loved both of them like family, and Gerda was every bit as excited as she was to visit a new country. Kai, on the other hand, was more reserved. (Anna hoped he was secretly stoked on the inside. She had been told a million times her enthusiasm was infectious - hopefully it would work its magic on him.)

Before she knew it, the morning of their trip had arrived. She was dragging on her trunks down the stairs - too impatient to wait for one of the manservants to come back up after taking down her largest one - and toppled down the last three steps when she saw who was waiting for her.

Elsa stood at the bottom of the staircase, gloved hands together. She looked up at Anna, who was awkwardly unlocking her ankles and trying to keep her black flats from falling off as she navigated around the trunk. For a second, it seemed Elsa was stifling a laugh, and then she went back to her same somber expression.

Anna stared at her sister in befuddlement.

“Hello,” she said.

Anna stared some more. She looked behind her and up the stairs to see who Elsa was talking to.

“...Anna?” Elsa said, and Anna’s head swung back round. Elsa was tugging her gloves up, closer to her elbows.

Anna tongue untied itself. “Are you here to talk to Mama and Papa? Because I think they’ve already left for the docks…”

Elsa shook her head. “Yes, I know. I wanted to see you off.”

Anna frowned. “Why?”

Elsa raised an eyebrow. “You’re leaving today and won’t be back for several months.” Her tone implied she was concerned Anna had forgotten.

“Yeah, but…” Anna tried to think of a response that wasn’t ‘but you don’t like me’, and came up with nothing. “Thank you,” she said, instead, feeling herself mirroring her sisters stiff, awkward posture.

“We’ve…” Elsa hesitated, staring at her hands. “It’ll be strange, not hearing you marching around the halls, breaking plates.”

This, Anna had to protest. “That was one time!”

This time, Elsa gave her a real smile, and Anna found herself smiling back. But there was still a somberness in her sister’s smile - a sadness. Anna realized that she, Mama, and Papa were leaving her the crown princess all alone - even taking along the servants who were the most like family to the girls.

“It’s just for a few months,” Anna said, softly. “We’ll be home before you know it.”

Elsa nodded. “I’m … happy you’re happy, Anna.”

“Thank you,” Anna said, voice sounding little to her own ears. Elsa’s eyes seemed to be glittering with tears, and something in Anna’s heart soared and fell at the same time. “Elsa…”

She reached forward, intending to give a sister a surprise hug, but Elsa pulled back just in time, flinching and pulling her arms close to her chest.

Well, so much for that nice gesture. Anna bit the inside of her cheek and pulled her arms back around her chest, finding that now she was the one fighting tears. She was hurt, and angry - angry that Elsa could make her feel so terrible on what was supposed to be a perfect start to a perfect summer.

Elsa looked stricken, and opened her mouth to say something, but then the manservant returned, picking up Anna’s last trunk.

“You carried this down yourself?” he asked, surprised, and Anna shrugged. He walked towards the doors, and after a moment, Anna followed.

In the doorway, Anna stopped, and turned back. Elsa hadn’t moved, and after a long moment, Anna raised her hand in goodbye. Elsa stared at her with those ice blue eyes before lifting her own hand, a small queenly wave.

Anna turned away and marched out the door, and didn’t look back until the gates of the palace were behind her.

 Anna stood on the deck, waving wildly to the citizens who were watching the ship leave. She had a pile of presents around her feet - presents! The people of Arendelle were so excited to see her leave they had stopped her a dozen times on the way to the docks. She had been given an apple, a little mini pie, even a adorable little doll with bright red hair. (Some of the maids had suggested before that Anna was too old for dolls, but she didn’t care. They were her friends, and she had struggled to pick which one to pack for her trip - she was ecstatic that now she had two! They could keep each other company now.) Kai eventually had to cut off the meet and greets, as they were in serious danger of being late.

As soon as Anna’s feet hit the deck of the ship, everyone burst into motion, and they were sailing in minutes. The feeling of the ship moving under her feet was a little dizzying, but more fun that anything. Her mother had warned her about sea sickness, but Anna wasn’t worried.

Until she spent the first day of their trip puking over the rail.

Okay, so maybe ship life wasn’t as dreamy as she hoped. But it was about the destination, not the journey, right? (Or maybe that was the other way around.)

The sea sickness was bad, but Anna figured she could do anything she set her mind to, so she interrogated every sailor in every part of the ship for tips to combat seasickness until she was as experienced as any world weary pirate. (Orrrr she had just gotten used it on her own. Probably a combination.)

Other problems she couldn’t predict.

The sun shined down on the deck and reflected off the water - so it wasn’t long until Anna had developed the worst sunburn of her life. She had been forced to retreat below deck in recovery, moaning out complaints and ows as Gerda applied lotions and “told you sos”. The red, burning skin was soon replaced with peeling, itchy skin, and Anna didn’t know which was worse. Eventually, though, she emerged - like a butterfly - and discovered her skin, already pretty freckley, was now speckled across every exposed inch. She developed an endless constellation of freckles, down her arms, across her forehead, even on her lips. She did heed Gerda’s warning about staying out too long in direct sunlight on the ship, but ignored any creams she offered to get rid of them. She loved them - sometimes she would take a quill and draw patterns when she was bored.

Despite these maladies - and the fact there was no birthday cake to be found on a boat - Anna’s twelfth birthday might have had been the best she ever had. Her parents had never been much one for birthdays, but the ship’s crew adored her. They sang her songs and carried her around the deck and made her laugh until tears streamed down her cheeks and she was doubled over in pain. (The captain had actually ran over to tell them off. Anna begged them to continue as soon as his back was turned.)

She loved the crew, loved that they didn’t treat her like a princess, loved spotting the islands and sea creatures as they passed by. Maybe she could try and travel more, use this as a jumping off point with her parents after they returned home. At this point, Anna would have eagerly ditched the whole princess thing for a life of piracy.

After three weeks they were finally approaching the larger isles - they past a few smaller ones on the way in, itty bitty and adorable with villages and formidable stone buildings. They were aiming for the main island, which had a giant, winding castle of black stone she spotted hours and hours before they were anywhere near the docks. Anna felt like she was going to burst out of her skin with excitement. Yes, the seas were fun - but nothing was going to beat meeting her new (temporary) family! And the twins! She was going to finally meet twins!

There was a crowd waiting for them as the ship docked. Anna had originally thought it was citizens, like the ones who had seen them off, until she saw the crowns upon their heads. Anna ran to the rail and leaned over to get a closer look. At the start was a very tall man with dark grey hair, and a humongous crown on his head. Caleb II, check , she thought. Next to him was a woman with gorgeous dark red hair, and the saddest face Anna had ever seen. That must have been Aleksandra. Next to her was a man her father’s age, his hair greying and his crown nearly as nice as his father’s. Caleb III. She got lost in the sea of others - they were all tall, all handsome with identical crowns. None of them stood out, except the extremely tall one with a shock of blond hair.

At the very tail end of the line was a young man - only a boy, really, just a few years older than Anna. This must have been the son Queen Aleksandra had mentioned. He stood a head shorter than the brothers beside him, and his hair was redder than any of the others - a brilliant auburn like the queen’s, shiny and swept off his brow. His crown was slightly crooked, and he had a long nose that had a strange upwards slope at the end.

As she was examining him, his bright green eyes suddenly looked up, catching hers, and Anna felt her face go hot like it did when she was caught in a lie. Her gaze dropped to her feet, ears burning. When she looked back a moment later, he had moved his gaze to his father at the other end of the line.

Anna did a head count and then another to double check - but no, there really were only eight princes present. Behind them were a group of women, who, unlike the series of men before them, came in all colors, shapes, and sizes. Some cradled babies, some held the hands of bored looking toddlers - and if Anna squinted, she could see what must have been the older children standing in a row behind them - some of them had to be at least ten years older than her, ready to start families of their own.

Her head swam. Their castle residents and staff must have been the size of a small country.

Kai’s voice shook her from her thoughts, and she realized with a start they were being announced, and she needed to be walking down the rampy thing now. Oops.

She ran to catch up to her mother and father, and ignored the hands of the sailors who stood at the gap between the ship and the ramp, instead taking a running leap. She hit hard, nearly eating dirt (ramp?) and heard a smattering of laughter as she straightened.

Face red, she tried to figure out which princes it had came from - but the last one, the lovely one, still had the same serious look he had when their eyes met. Huh. She wondered if he was always so serious. She was bursting at the seams and could barely keep a giant, manic grin off her face, even if she had nearly fallen on her face. She pushed it down into something sweet and presentable, and took careful slow steps down the ramp.

Her little family of four (with the fourth missing) felt absurdly miniscule compared to the swarm in front of her, and Anna found herself wishing Elsa was there. She may have only been fifteen, but with her perfect posture and white blond hair she always took up an entire room with her presence. She wanted to look formidable, to look … to look …

Well. Less like three overwhelmed sweaty people.

“King Agnar of Arendelle, Queen Iduna of Arendelle, and--” Kai paused to glance at Anna, a twinkle in his eye. “Her royal highness, Princess Anna of Arendelle.”

Anna tried to summon every ounce of grace for her curtsy, but with her wobbly sealegs, she was just glad she didn’t fall over.

“Your highnesses, your Majesty,” said the king, bowing low. “Welcome to the Southern Isles.”

Anna watched the sea of bows and curtseys that followed and felt her eyes cross. She was not going to be able to remember all those names.

 “So,” Iduna said, pacing their quarters while Kai and Gerda unpacked. “According to the very patient servant I just spoke to, two princes are away on royal business, and three more have married into the neighboring kingdoms. However, they all visit often, Anna, so you might meet the entire bunch before the summer’s out.”

“I thought there were twelve?” Anna asked, counting on her hands.

“Thirteen,” said her mother. “Hans is the thirteenth.”

Unlucky, Anna thought. Evident by his utterly forgettable name. Anna knew thirty Hans-es from books and portraits alone.

“I didn’t realize our records were so out of date,” her father said. “We must been fifteen, sixteen years off, if we have no record of his birth.” His shook his head. “Well, that’ll be another thing we’ll have to fix when we return home.”

“I can do it,” Anna volunteered. “I can gather all the information while you’re gone!”

The king smiled. “If you’d like to. It’ll be rather boring. I’ll tell Kai, and he can make a list of everything you’ll need to write down for us.”

Anna nodded, eagerly. It’d be an excuse to ask for his birthday - she hoped it was during the summer months so they could have something else in common.

“Are the twins missing?” she asked.

“Hmm? No, no, they were the two standing nearest to Hans. At the end of the line, dear.”

Anna frowned. “They looked even less alike than the others did.”

“That happens with twins, sometimes,” her father said. “They’re not always identical.”

“Well, that’s boring!” Anna huffed, throwing herself down onto her new bed. Her father laughed.

“Were thirteen princes not exciting enough for you?”

“Eight,” Anna corrected, grumbling into her pillow.

“And all of their wives and children,” her mother said, voice warm. “Think of all the friends you’ll make by the time you leave, my sunshine! You won’t know what to do with all of them.”

Anna raised her head up, expression pained. “It’s only the first day and now I’m already thinking about how sad I’m gonna be and how much I’ll miss them!”

Her mother cupped her chin in her hand. “There’s always letters. You’ll be able to keep in touch with any and all of your new friends here, I promise.”

Anna smiled, nodding, but as her mother turned to pick out a dress for dinner, she wondered, for the first time, what the real reason they had for letting her come along was. Was it simply to … appease her? Maybe thinking that with a handful of penpals, she could happily spend the rest of her life locked inside Arendelle castle?

She shook her head, dismissing the thought. No. She wouldn’t allow that to happen. She had to focus on the present - which included trying to make a good impression at dinner. And that started with scrubbing off two weeks worth of grime.

“Ah, there’s your skin,” Gerda chuckled, taking off a layer of skin and about a hundred new freckles with her bathing brush.

“Ow ow ow,” Anna moaned, as a handmaid worked a comb through Anna’s tangles. She was on loan from one of the wives. She had browner skin than Anna had ever seen before, and a lovely smile that made Anna feel like she had already made a new friend.

“My apologies, your highness,” she said, relenting a little. “You’ve got lovely hair, I want to do it justice.”

She, and the rest of residents of the Southern Isles, shared a language with Anna and the rest of Arendelle, though it sounded very different to Anna’s ears. They had funny accents, and different words for thank you. While the royals and this noble woman handmaiden were easy enough to understand, Anna couldn’t make heads or tails of what the servants were saying.

Anna squirmed in the copper tub. The water was cold, which wasn’t that bad when she was coming right in from the warm sun, but she was beginning to realize she was going to be in here a while.

She heard a whispered question from the handmaiden to Gerda, and then a chuckle.

“Don’t worry,” Gerda said. “That’s the color it’s supposed to be. You’ve got your hair so dirty, I almost forgot it was two different colors, your highness.”

Anna made a face at her in the water’s reflection. After a lot of scrubbing, detangling, and chastising, they pulled her out of the tub and wrapped her in a towel, the borrowed handmaid attentively drying her ginger-root colored locks.

“Did you have a hairstyle in mind?” she asked Gerda, and Gerda clucked her tongue.

“Stick to the plaits,” she said. “Anything else will fall apart in a half hour.”

“Hey,” said Anna, protesting. “You promised me you’d start teaching me more complicated styles when I turned twelve.”

“I promise I’ll fix up something fancy for you before we leave the isles,” Gerda said, and Anna stuck her tongue out at her back.

She was surprised when the handmaiden picked up her shift from the bed and lifted over her head - with the castle’s limited staff, she tended to dress herself every morning. She stood there, feeling awkward with her arms out, as they dressed her in a canary yellow gown that made her feel like she was going to float up into the clouds. She tugged on her stockings herself, leaning on the handmaiden for balance, who beamed at her patiently. Anna stepped into her shoes, still leaning, and then turned to catch her reflection.

Anna examined herself in the mirror while Gerda braided her hair with quick fingers. She still looked like a little girl. The only indication that her childhood was coming to a close was her legs, which stuck out like bright green croquet mallets from beneath her skirt. (She must have gained a few surprise inches in height since the fitting.)

Unlike her sister, who had been a miniature grown up for as long as Anna could remember, Anna felt ill suited to the transition into “young lady”, and hoped the transformation was just going to show up one day and surprise her. She didn’t really know where to begin, otherwise.

“There,” said Gerda. “Nothing too fancy, but still very cute.” Anna wondered if she’d always just be cute to her sister’s beautiful.

“I thought you’d prefer something you can run around in. I’m sure you’ll be challenging the nieces and nephews to a game of hide and seek before dessert is served.”

Gerda was almost certainly kidding, but it wasn’t a half bad idea...

 Dinner was served at six on the dot. Anna had expected to sit with her parents, but they were seated at the opposite end of the long, long, long table, with the king and queen. She didn’t mind at all, because it meant she was sitting with the younger boys. To her right were the twins, and to her left was the lovely one-- er, Fritz? Frans? And another brother, who she couldn’t even attempt trying to name.

She was expecting a table the length of an island, but there was only about a fifth of the family present. This was both a relief and disappointment. Her seat was pulled out for her by a servant, and she settled into it, adjusting her sunshine-y skirts around her. There were so many forks, but thankfully, memorizing place settings had been one of her favorite games when she was eight.

She looked down the table, realizing that, aside from the parents and herself, they

“Where are the wives and children?” Anna whispered to the boy on her left.

“In another dining room,” he whispered back. “Mother thought this would be the least overwhelming.”

“I’m happy to be overwhelmed. I never even get to be whelmed.” Anna beamed at him, and after a moment, he returned it with a reluctant smile of his own. She wiggled with delight - he was even cuter when he smiled.

“Princess Anna,” said one of the twins. “Please do be careful. Sometimes the serving boys pretend to be a Southern Isles prince to steal some dessert.”

“Keep an eye on him,” the other twin warned, glancing at him with narrowed eyes.

Anna burst out laughing, remembered belatedly to cover her mouth and try to stifle her giggles. The smile on his younger brother’s face disappeared, and he stared determinedly down at the table for the rest of dinner, no matter how hard the twins tried to get him to join in the conversation. What was his problem?

Besides that, dinner was amazing. The food was like nothing she had ever tried before, and she almost snorted her drink out her nose at the twins’ jokes. There were a million conversations going on, never any real silence, and it was such a stark contrast to the cold formal dinners with Elsa that Anna felt like she had found paradise.

She didn’t waste any tears on her parents leaving. Part of her dreaded it - the sooner they left, the sooner they’d return and whisk her back to Arendelle - but mostly she was excited to begin her new day to day routine. Anna wished them off with brief kisses and goodbyes, and then squirmed out of their hugs to run back into the palace gardens. She watched their ship sail off from a castle tower an hour later; trying to preserve the moment in watercolors but after that, she didn’t let a thought of her parents enter her head. She didn’t know when they’d return, so she was going to make the most of every moment in the Southern Isles.

Mostly the people of the castle left her to her own devices - she had requested to possibly attend some tutoring lessons with the youngest, whats-his-name, to get to know him better, but never heard anything back from the governess she asked about it. It was fine, she thought. She wouldn’t want to waste her time in lessons when she could explore.

Anna hadn’t even wrapped her mind around the concept of the surrounding villages and countryside. The giant sprawling castle of black rock could keep her occupied for weeks, exploring room by room. She spent most of her days wandering the castle with something in hand (whether a toy, some new project, or a snack), constantly bumping into people. It was a great way to meet the family, although she had no hope of trying to remember the names and relations they supplied her with when she introduced herself. The only ones she actually talked to more than once were the twins, who she liked more and more by the day, and the only one besides them she saw often was the youngest brother. Or maybe he just stood out to her, due to the red hair (and cuteness.)

“Oh, Rudi!” she called out, once, spotting him strolling through a door, books in both arms.

The boy grimaced, and she winced. “Oops, that’s not right. Uh… no, it can’t be Runo, uh…”

“Don’t worry about it, your highness,” he said, almost convincing her he didn’t mind. But the way the corners of his mouth twitched when smiled said otherwise. “Is there anything you need?”

“No,” she said, smiling apologetically.

He bowed and walked out the way he came. Ten minutes later, Anna, unseen from beneath the couch (she was looking for her embroidery needle), watched him glance around as if looking for her and then carefully slink down the hallway to his original destination of the library.

Anna, covered in cobwebs, sighed. Oh well. It was fine if he didn’t like her; there were dozens and dozens of potential friends in the palace.

What did one boy matter?

Chapter Text

Two things in Hans’s life were infinite: the amount of relatives he had, and his own misery.

On some level, Hans was actually impressed his life in the Southern Isles has actually managed to get worse. At almost sixteen years of age, he had thought he had long ago hit rock bottom. At present, he considered himself as solemnly scraping along, and assumed he would scrape along for the rest of his life. It had given him a certain kind of sturdiness, a sort of reassuring comfort in that although things were bad, he was used to bad.

Then she showed up.

The first forty eight hours or so weren’t too bad. It was nice to meet someone whose eyes didn’t glaze over when they looked at him, someone who didn’t seem to notice that he was so so far away from the throne there were clergymen who his father cared more about pleasing. Even better, everyone was on their best behavior with the other royal family in residence - no screaming matches in the halls, no fistfights in the gardens, no one trying to see how fast Hans could dodge a glass bowl. Even the twins had shut up, which Hans ignorantly took as a sign that they had finally given up on trying to torture them.

But no. They were just rewriting their act.

He watched as the twins put on a show for the princess at her first dinner in the palace, and sunk lower and lower in her seat as he saw her eyes glitter with amusement. He didn’t care that she apparently liked to see him squirm and grimace - that wasn’t exactly new - but he did care about the effect she’d have on his two brothers closest to him in age.

The twins expressed an eagerness in their torments he hadn’t seen in years - because now, they had an audience. Princess Anna giggled and clapped along, and their grins would grow sharklike as they’d reinvent the old invisibility scheme and trip him in the hall. It was ridiculous. They were eighteen now, and he thought they had long grown out of it. Apparently not.

Worse was that the princess didn’t even recognize it for what it was - she thought it was all a big game, and that Hans was in on it. She’d bound up to him like one of Caleb’s wife’s spaniels, trying to make him laugh as she echoed back one of Rudi’s “jokes” - while accidentally calling him Runo’s name. She tried to get him to play dolls with her, to paint with her, to help him practice for his music lessons. It had taken him every second of well practiced princely manners not to yell in her face to just stop.

But the encouragement of the twins and the relentless attempts to be his friend despite that wasn’t even the end of it. Worse still was how insufferably happy she was.

Every grown woman Hans knew was miserable, and the girls weren’t much happier. The Southern Isles were not a place where women thrived; not even the royals. And while he did feel sympathy for his sisters in laws and his nieces and of course, his mother … even more so, there was a sort of kinship he felt with them; also damned by the arbitrary rules of inheritance that kept them from any real power.

But not Princess Anna.

The girl was unshakable. Maybe it was because the position women held in her kingdom - Arendelle, when pressed, did not bother uncovering a long lost male relative for its throne, and just handed to its eldest royal heir without much fuss - but she was also a spare. Princess Elsa was long past the unstable years of early childhood, and her sister had managed to shrug off royal lessons for her entire stay in the Southern Isles.

She ran around the palace with reckless abandon - a tornado with pigtails - and would bounce back from a skinned knee or a twisted ankle with a bounce and a grin. (And then an ow.) She befriended the servants. She played with the children. She fed the horses. She talked to the chickens.

She was also so absurdly happy, and all it did was make Hans more acutely aware of his own misery.

He wished her parents had a set date for their return, because without it, he felt himself going mad as the weeks went on, and on, and on. His only solace was that with every day that passed, she was one day closer to leaving.

He had taken to hiding in the library - the princess had showed no interest in it, which was a little bizarre, seeing as he had found her reading in a sitting room more than once. But he figured he shouldn’t take small blessings for granted.

One morning, three weeks after her arrival, he was cooped up in the library, surrounded by stacks of books, and surprisingly alone. He had never beaten Lars to the library before - his elder brother had the closest rooms, and practically lived there. (Which was perfectly fine with his wife.)

An hour after he had sat down, he heard the doors open behind him and a surprised laugh.

“What did she do today?” Lars said, without any other introduction.

Hans dropped the book on Italian War tactics he had been paging through on the table. “Her royal highness is apparently putting on a play with Runo and Rudi. I wonder what it could possibly be about.”

Lars grimaced. “You’d expect a girl with an older sister to know a little more about how siblings work.”

Hans laughed without humor. “Oh, like the princess lived anything but the most charmed life.” He paused. “Or perhaps Princess Elsa is enjoying silence for the first time in her life.”

Lars tilted his head. “Have you actually talked to her about sister?”

Hans made a face. “Why would I?”

Lars sighed and shook his head, and leaned over the table to examine the pages the book was open on - Hans was tracing a diagram of a dagger with his pointer finger. It was an old book, the musty smell and cloud of dust making him feel more grounded than he had in weeks.

“A play,” Lars muttered, breaking the silence a few minutes later. “Good Lord. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone enable the twins so much, and I knew them during their terrible twos. Maybe someone should break this up, before she returns to Arendelle with a bloodlust for japery.”

His younger brother retrieved his sketchbook from a drawer and placed it on the table, next to the Italian book. “And how would one accomplish that? She’d rather spend time with the twins than anyone else.”

“That’s not entirely true.”

“What? Of course it is.” Hans glanced up, and Lars looked at him.

“No,” he said, without the older man saying a word. “That’s not… she sees me as a project. Or a shiny toy.”

Lars glanced at him from over the frames of his spectacles. “You two are rather close in age.”

“Close in--!?” Hans cried. “She is barely twelve, and I am nearly sixteen!”

“Ah,” said Lars, “yes, I forgot three and a half years is equivalent to a lifetime at your age.”

Hans narrowed his eyes. “Who’s side are you on?”

Lars sighed, pushing the book away. “We both know you can be rather maudlin, Hans. Don’t you think spending time with the “tornado” might be better than staring into the sea until you go mad? You’re depressing Sitron, at this rate.”

Hans gave his older brother a desperate look. “But she’s so annoying. And she can’t  even remember my name.”

“Now you sound like a child.”

The words hit their intended mark, and Hans gathered his books and left the library in an angry huff, stomping away.

He found himself directionless - the library was really the only place he went, and his room was three floors up - and ended up just walking in a straight line down the hall until he ended up at the doors to one of the palace balconies. He heard a familiar giggle, and pressed back against the wall, carefully leaning so he could take a look without being seen. The princess was turning cartwheels while her maid sat patiently nearby, darning some socks. They were close. Even Hans could see that.

Because, of course, the absolutely worst part of Princess Anna was that he knew he would never really yell in her face, no matter how much he wanted to. His father would be enraged - he had made it very clearly with all of his children, even the adults, that the princess was the most important member of this palace during her stay. They’d throw him out without a second thought if he did anything that could endanger their alliance with Arendelle.

And beyond that...

He watched her do a handstand as her maidservant held her skirts in place.

Beyond that, he knew, deep down, she didn’t deserve to be treated badly. He knew all too well what it felt like.

But he was still not going to be her friend because Lars thought he ought to be. No way.

Storm season had begun.

He and his brothers didn’t even notice it - the only real change was the clothes left out for them - but Princess Anna ran out that morning, baffled.

“Rain?” she asked, sticking her hands out and trying to catch drops on her tongue. “But it’s July!”

“It’s much dryer in Arendelle,” Hans said, when she cornered him. “It always rains through summer here.”

Princess Anna looked befuddled the rest of the day, and Hans wondered if the awful humidity would be enough to finally put a damper on her good mood.

The seas were rough, giant waves visible from the top towers of the palace. All the merchant and traders knew better than to attempt sailing for the next month. As did his overseas brothers. Too bad, he thought, dryly, like Lars always did when one their siblings narrowly escaped death. Maybe he could have moved up a rank or two.

He - and Lars - weren’t serious about it, of course. The death of a family member would be a disaster, and somewhere, deep down, Hans knew it would hurt more than it let down. The Westergaards, as a whole, were healthy as horses.

After King Caleb’s first wife died, he had sent for the world’s best doctors for his staff, and aside from a few inevitable stillbirths, no one had died in the palace in Hans’s lifetime. Caleb was a rare king who emphasized saving the lives of the mothers above his grandchildren. Hans supposed, with his father having more heirs than he could ever need, that it made sense.

One very wet afternoon, a month after Princess Anna’s arrival, Hans found himself in his mother’s sitting room. One of her hand maids let him in, and he kneeled beside his mother’s chair. She was wearing light purple, her tiara crooked on her brow.

“Hello, mother,” Hans said, and she gave him a weak smile.

“Hello, darling,” she said, putting her embroidery down. “Are you well?”

Besides the walking headache you personally invited into our home, he thought. “Yes, very, thank you.”

“How are your studies?”

Hans hesitated - his music lesson yesterday had been completely derailed by the young princess, who had only that day discovered how much the Southern Isles values and emphasized music. Apparently she had the grand idea of learning how to play piano when she was younger, but was unable to procure a teacher.

So she stole Hans’s.

It had been a painful afternoon.

His mother gave a light laugh at the expression on his face. “Yes,” she said, reading his thoughts. “I heard about that. She’s delightful, isn’t she?”

Hans realized too late that a prolonged awkward silence was not the correct answer to that question. The queen clucked her tongue and shook her head.

“You’ll be regretful when she’s gone, my love,” she said. “You must think above simply liking or disliking someone.”

With her husband being her point of reference, Hans wasn’t surprised. He decided not to answer, instead leaning his head against her knee.

A servant burst through the doors, surprising them all - especially when bolted straight towards Hans’s mother with only a quick bow when he reached her.

“It’s urgent, your majesty,” he said, and she frowned, quickly ripping off the ribbon. The message was short - Hans could only see a few lines printed on it before the queen pressed the letter against her chest. Her eyes were wide, alert in a way they usually weren’t. She jumped to her feet, and everyone else in the room followed suit.

“I must go to your father,” she said, to Hans, and then left without another word. Hans turned to the servant, a silent question written across his face, but the servant shook his head hopelessly.

Odd.

 The servants were in some sort of panic. It seemed only a very small handful knew what was going on, and the rest were just as desperate to find out as Hans was. He stalked around the palace, looking for clues and finding nothing. His brothers didn’t care, and just raised their eyebrows silently when they saw Hans embark on his investigation. Was it one of his brothers? Was there a trade problem? What could possibly need his mother’s intervention?

By late afternoon, he had given up and retreated to the library. The only thing he had discovered was that the usually unavoidable Princess Anna was nowhere to be found, and he couldn’t tell if that was a clue or just a lucky coincidence. He exited the library with a few books for his studies, intending to retire to his rooms early. Perhaps the answer would come to him after sleeping on it.

He walked down the hallway, mind clouded with bitter thoughts. Of course he had to figure this out all of his own. Of course no one would just tell him. No one had even bothered to tell him that he had been rejected for a marriage proposal last year. He hadn’t even known one had been set out; he found out the awkward news from his almost-bride’s brother at a ball a few months ago.

He collided with a small form, his books falling onto the ground with a tremendous clatter, a heavy one landing hard on his toe. He smothered a swear, realizing who this obstacle was without even having to take a good look at her.

“Please watch where you’re going--” he cut himself off as he noticed the tears in her eyes. Despite himself, he found something deep and hidden wrench, like a machine hitting the wrong piece and coming apart. “... your highness?”

“Where have you been all day?” he asked, a little more accusatory than he meant to be.

“With your mother,” she said, very softly. “She’s been … she was ...” she sniffed, trailing off.

“Princess Anna,” he said, kneeling slightly to better meet her eye. His curiosity got the best of him. He had to solve the mystery, and the princess seemed to be the key. “What happened?”

“They’re gone,” she said, in a very small voice. “Mama and papa are dead.”

She fell forward, and Hans found himself holding Princess Anna as she sobbed.

Oh.