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“Oh, I cannot believe this has happened on my wedding day!”
“I am so sorry, Anna. This is all my fault.”
“Why? This has as much to do with me as it does with you. ‘Sisters of Arendelle’, did she not say? And she had a message for the queen. I am the queen.”
“I can’t help but think it has something to do with my powers. She has the same powers. How did this happen? How have we not known? Who is she?”
“I don’t know, Elsa. But we will get to the bottom of this, I promise you.”
“I will get to the bottom of this. It’s too dangerous for you.”
“No, not again. Haven’t we been through this conversation before? We’re in this together.”
“I know, but-”
“She chose the day of the royal wedding to show up. My wedding. Not yours. I’m involved in this mess, as much as you want to deny it.”
“Very well,” Elsa conceded, knowing it is futile to fight with Anna when she got like this, “Who will look after Arendelle in the meantime, then?”
Anna thought about it.
“My husband, of course,” She smiled proudly, “It feels good to finally get to say that.”
Elsa bit her lip in worry.
“Quite a trial by fire for the new king, with both of us gone. At least on both of our first days as queen, we had each other.”
“He’ll be fine,” Anna waved Elsa’s concern away, “I have faith in him. Now, I must go and address the people.”
Elsa watched solemnly as Anna spoke to their subjects, explaining how a sinister being had crashed the wedding and she must now venture forth with the Fifth Spirit to investigate the matter further.
“I leave King Kristoff in charge,” Anna declared, before noting with a laugh, “Rest assured, it will go better than the last time I left a man in charge of Arendelle.”
She gave Kristoff a kiss as the crowd clapped and cheered. Elsa clapped too, shaking her head at her sister and new brother-in-law’s antics, as a small smile crept onto her features. She was glad that they had managed to find some joy amidst the wedding interruption.
Someone grazed Elsa’s cheek with a hand and Elsa startled, stumbling back as she turned to get a better look at who had touched her. In doing so, her face settled more snugly into the person’s hand.
Elsa would never get used to the warmth of this palm.
“Honeymaren…” she gasped softly.
“Oh Elsa,” Honeymaren sighed, running a thumb over the cut on Elsa’s cheek, “You’re hurt.”
It seemed like in all the commotion, Elsa had forgotten about her injury. Trust Honeymaren to notice, when all other eyes were on Anna, even Elsa’s, today.
“I’m fine,” Elsa said, bringing her own hand up to Honeymaren’s wrist, gently guiding her hand away.
It would hardly be a surprise to anyone in Arendelle by now (if they had even been paying attention to Elsa in the middle of the queen’s speech) to catch their former queen so intimately sharing a moment with the girl from Northuldra. Her special guest to the wedding. Many of the Northuldra were invited of course, but Honeymaren had spent the entire day by Elsa’s side, instead of her brother’s, who was serving as best man at the event. It seemed like everyone in the kingdom, except perhaps Elsa and Honeymaren themselves, had already suspected there was something more going on between the two of them.
Still, Elsa was self-conscious. She always was, when it came to physical touch, and Honeymaren did not take it personally. Instead, she twisted her wrist in Elsa’s grasp until she could more comfortably take Elsa’s hand in hers. She gave it a squeeze.
“You’re bleeding,” she continued.
“It’s just a cut.”
“From what?”
“Magical flying ice.”
“What?” Honeymaren gasped.
“It’ll heal.”
“It might scar.”
“It’s fine.”
“Elsa.”
Elsa blinked back at Honeymaren, eyes wide and vulnerable. She was not used to being on the receiving end of such concern, tender and firm at the same time. Her other loved ones were either too anxious to be tender, or too reverent to be firm. Elsa did not know what to do with herself. Honeymaren tried a small joke, hoping to put Elsa more at ease.
“That face is too pretty for even the possibility of a scar.”
Which only served to make Elsa blush. Honeymaren tugged on their joined hands, leading them away from the crowd.
“Come, let me clean it up before it gets infected, yeah?”
They entered the bedroom in the castle that Honeymaren had been staying in for the wedding, and Honeymaren moved to root through her belongings for some of her medicinal herbs.
“Are you finding the room to your liking?” Elsa asked.
“It is humongous.”
“It is technically my room, whenever I come to Arendelle to visit. Ever since Anna became queen.”
“Oh? Then why…?” Honeymaren shifted nervously on the spot, feeling uncomfortable by the immense hospitality being granted to her.
“It is warmer than the guest bedroom,” Elsa explained, “I know you like it warm.”
Honeymaren curled a stray lock of hair behind her ear, looking away to hide her shyness. She did not think Elsa would give up this room for any other guest, and that was a strange thought to confront.
“It is the crown princess’s room,” Elsa continued, “Meaning it was mine when I was too young to dictate its temperature, then Anna’s and mine, then just Anna’s, and then now, mine again.”
Elsa strode to the window, looking out at the festivities below. A playful smile ghosted over her face.
“Perhaps if this wedding had been allowed to proceed to its natural conclusion, it might belong to a new princess in a few years time.”
Honeymaren smiled.
“You would make an excellent aunt.”
Elsa nodded, “I cannot wait. Which is precisely why we must get to the bottom of this mystery ice woman business as soon as possible.”
“Of course,” Honeymaren agreed, returning to her original task.
She propped a foot up on the chair, sweeping her robe aside to pull out a knife from a holder fastened to her calf. She began to finely chop up some of the herbs to make a paste.
Elsa raised a brow.
“You brought a knife to Anna’s wedding?”
“Habit,” Honeymaren laughed, “You should consider better security checks at the royal wedding, Elsa.”
“Well. I am in attendance, so are the other spirits,” Elsa replied, and the floor rumbled with the movements of the giants out by the fjord, “I had assumed that was security enough.”
“And yet, you have been injured.”
“It is part of being the security.”
“You are not security. You are the maid of honour.”
Honeymaren sighed, she looked at the medicinal paste she had made, as if too shy to face Elsa for her next statement.
“And you mean a great deal to me, Elsa.”
Elsa said nothing, as she stewed in Honeymaren’s words, unsure of what to say in reply. Such closeness was still so new to her.
Honeymaren scooped some of the paste onto her blade and walked to Elsa. Gently, she placed a finger beneath Elsa’s chin so that she could tilt Elsa face to the side, and she could see the cut on her cheek more clearly.
“This might sting,” she whispered.
She pinched off a bit of the paste to dab it on the cut.
“The pain never bother- Ah!” Elsa hissed.
Honeymaren bit back a smile.
“Sorry,” Honeymaren said, completely insincerely.
“Just get on with it,” Elsa grumbled, trying not to wince as Honeymaren worked to spread the paste out more evenly across the cut.
Eventually, Honeymaren was done, and she cleaned her knife on her robe before stowing it away again.
“Leave it on for an hour or two, and then you can wipe it off with a clean washcloth with some warm water.”
Elsa looked a little dazed from Honeymaren’s close proximity to her.
“I-I’m going to have to clean it off myself?” She asked before she could realise what she was saying.
Honeymaren chuckled.
“I will come and find you in an hour, your highness,” Honeymaren gave her a mocking curtsey, “And I will clean it off for you.”
Elsa’s face burned red again.
“That-that is not what I meant,” she said, lying, wanting very very much to have any excuse to be standing this close to Honeymaren again.
She turned her head back so she could face Honeymaren squarely, and even in just the glow from the Northern Lights, she could see the pink tinge colouring Honeymaren’s cheeks as well.
“But… thank you,” Elsa whispered, moved by Honeymaren’s care for her.
Honeymaren swallowed, as though trying to find the courage to do something more. She eventually found it.
She cleared her throat.
“The herbs. They are a very Northuldran way of healing cuts and scrapes,” Honeymaren began, “I could do something more Arendellian, if you’d like?”
“What is the Arendellian way?” Elsa asked, drawing a blank as she remained lost in Honeymaren’s eyes.
Honeymaren stood on her tiptoes so that her face was more level with Elsa’s.
“I could kiss it better.”
And she leant in, her lips pressing ever so lightly, ever so softly, against Elsa’s cheek, just below her cut.
Elsa’s ears were ringing as she felt her entire face burn. Oh, she liked the Arendellian way very much.
Honeymaren dropped back down to the balls of her feet. She smiled innocently up at Elsa, although her own flaming cheeks betrayed her.
“Better?” Honeymaren asked.
Elsa simply stared back down at her, too awestruck to speak. They stayed that way for a minute or two, before Elsa finally found her wit returning to her.
“Perhaps I should get myself hurt more often,” Elsa said.
“Don’t even joke about that, Elsa,” Honeymaren looked genuinely upset, and Elsa marvelled at her ability to ruin things between them.
“Right, sorry.”
The moment was over, and Honeymaren stepped away, hugging herself in fear.
“You will be careful, right Elsa? On this quest with Anna.”
“I am always careful,” Elsa claimed, before she tried something light, “And I want a niece or nephew, remember? I will bring Anna back in one piece.”
“You need to come back in one piece.”
“I will serve the queen. Above all else.”
“Elsa. Please.”
Honeymaren swerved to face her again, and Elsa saw that her eyes were shining with tears. The promise that Honeymaren wanted Elsa to make actually meant something to the Northuldran girl.
Elsa gulped.
“I do not make promises I cannot keep, Honeymaren,” she said, hating how her voice was returning back to the icy tone of her former self, the snow queen who put duty above all else.
“I am not asking for a promise you cannot keep,” Honeymaren replied, just as seriously, “I have a brother too. I know what you will give up for Anna. And I cannot change that. I am only asking you to be careful. And to realise that there are people who want you to be safe. Just as badly as you want Anna to be safe.”
There was a sternness in Honeymaren’s words, leaving no room for Elsa to rebut. For all of Elsa’s stubbornness and independence, Elsa knew her heart already belonged to this woman, that there was nothing Honeymaren could ask of Elsa that Elsa could deny.
Eventually, Elsa nodded. And there was nothing more that needed to be said between the two.
Honeymaren blinked back her own tears, nodding as she straightened and gathered her resolve again. She moved towards her luggage again.
“I have something for you. I wanted to give it to you right before we travelled back up north, thinking you might get some good use out of it during all your adventures as the Fifth Spirit. But it seems like you could use it now. On your quest.”
She unveiled a royal blue travelling cloak with intricate symbols of the Northuldra lining the inside of the cloth, and the most luscious white fur trim around the hood. It was clearly meticulously hand-stitched, and the handiwork was exquisite. Elsa wondered how long something like that had taken Honeymaren to make.
“Started on it since the first day you moved to the forest,” Honeymaren explained, as though reading Elsa’s mind on the question she was thinking about, “Figured you would need something warm and hardy if you were going to stay up here with us. And you wear so much blue. Notwithstanding today, of course.”
Elsa laughed. They both knew that pink was not necessarily Elsa’s colour. But she was maid of honour, and the bride wants what the bride wants.
“Of course, that was when I didn’t know you literally did not feel cold,” Honeymaren continued to blabber, “And by the time I found out it was too late to stop stitching. It’s kind of a pointless gift, really, but I had built it up so much in my mind, and nobody else in the tribe wears blue, so who else was this really going to go to? And…”
“Honeymaren,” Elsa said, closing her hand on top of the travelling cloak, “Thank you. I love it.”
She took the gift off Honeymaren’s hand.
“I am still going to find many uses for it,” Elsa said, “Even if I am not bothered by the cold, snow is very irritating to get in one’s hair and one’s face. Not to mention the rain. It is perfect, Honeymaren.”
“Right,” Honeymaren smiled, looking pleased.
“You have been very good at thinking practically on my behalf,” Elsa observed, hoping the self-deprecation would brighten Honeymaren’s spirits.
It did.
“Oh, I know. Unbraided hair in the forest, Elsa! Really?” Honeymaren shook her head, recalling one of the many instances that Honeymaren had to take Elsa’s impractically down a notch.
Today, Elsa’s hair was back in a braid again, a braid that Honeymaren had done up for her that morning. Actually, Elsa had worn her hair this way for some months now, ever since Honeymaren could no longer bear the sight of stray twigs and leaves caught in Elsa’s beautiful hair, and had sat her down one day to braid it back up for her. Honeymaren had braided Elsa’s hair every day since.
“It is a marvel that I have survived in the forest for as long as I have,” Elsa agreed, “An achievement that is mine as much as it is yours.”
Honeymaren laughed, “At least now you know not to eat any and all berries Bruni picks for you.”
“Or to follow the Nokk to the west after sundown.”
“And that ice sandals are terrible in the muddy springtime.”
“Hey! I love my ice sandals.”
“The things you tolerate in the name of fashion, Elsa. Unbelievable.”
Elsa smiled wistfully at Honeymaren.
“Oh Honeymaren, how I miss our home in the forest.”
Honeymaren rolled her eyes, “My friend, we have been in Arendelle for barely a week.”
Elsa laughed, “And already it has been way too much human interaction for my liking.”
“A wedding is always like this. Even the Northuldran ones. You do like Arendelle on the regular days.”
“Indeed. But I do miss your cooking.”
Elsa was a spoilt royal, she had never cooked a day in her life, but had somehow remained fed and alive for all the time she had lived in the forest. One could only guess how.
“One day, my dear, you are going to have to learn to pick up a pot and a ladle,” Honeymaren complained.
“Oh, I would never dream of denying you the opportunity to gloat over how much better you are at cooking than I am.”
Honeymaren shook her head at Elsa’s witty retort. Eventually, she gave in. Honeymaren always did, when it came to Elsa.
“Very well. Then you must make every effort to come home from your quest. I will have the warmest, heartiest stew waiting for you.”
Elsa clutched Honeymaren’s travelling cloak closer to her chest. She knew what Honeymaren was doing, with the gift of the cloak and the reminders of the comforts of the forest. She wanted Elsa to feel, without direct words, how important it was for Elsa to keep safe, to come home. Specifically, to come home to Honeymaren.
“You promise?” Elsa asked.
“I promise.”