by Jen Calonita
“Ooh! This room is pretty,” Olaf said. “What’s that?” he asked, moving to the open window and looking out below. Elsa watched him in awe. “Ooh! It’s a village. I’ve always wanted to see a village with people and animals, and it’s summertime! I love summer! Watching all the bees buzz around and kids blow dandelion fuzz and—oh.” He turned toward her. The right side of his face was beginning to melt. “Small problem.”
Elsa swirled her hands around as she had before and thought hard about what she could do to help him stay cool in the heat. A small snow cloud appeared above Olaf’s head.
“My own personal flurry!” Olaf hugged himself. Then he saw the look on her face. “What’s the matter?”
“I’m still trying to understand how you’re here and how I created you.”
“Don’t you remember?” Olaf asked. “You made me for Anna!”
Elsa’s heart might have stopped for a moment.
Anna?
Could Anna be the A on the chest in the attic?
Elsa was almost too afraid to ask. “Who’s Anna?”
Olaf’s eager smile faded. “I don’t know. Who’s Anna?”
It was okay. This was a start. She had a name now. “I don’t know, either.” Elsa took Olaf by the twig and led him to her window seat. She planned on telling him everything she knew. “But together we’re going to find out.”
Three Years Later…
Elsa looked out her bedroom window and marveled at the scene unfolding in front of her. The castle gates were open and workers in green uniforms were readying the courtyard and the chapel for her coronation. Purple and gold banners, some with her silhouette and others with the family crest, were being hung from every flagpole inside and outside the courtyard. Her coronation was only days away.
Elsa was terrified.
She took a deep breath and tried to steady her heartbeat before the blue glow could appear above her hands. Don’t let them see your powers, she reminded herself. You need them to think of you as the good ruler your parents raised you to be, not someone who can do magic, or else…She exhaled slowly and thought about the worst-case scenario: One wrong move and everyone will know the truth. I’m not like everyone else.
There was a knock at her door. “Princess Elsa? Your presence is requested in the dressing room for a final fitting of your gown.”
It was Gerda calling her from the hallway. Elsa was thankful for her presence, as well as Kai’s and Lord Peterssen’s, the past three years. Her room had become her sanctuary after her parents’ deaths, and they had respected that, allowing her to take the time she needed before she was ready to join the world again. She spent a lot of time in her room and the adjoining one that was her dressing area, but didn’t like to linger in the castle’s other rooms. She was still haunted by the memories of her parents.
“Thank you, Gerda. I’ll meet you in the dressing room,” Elsa called through the door.
Gerda understood her better than almost anyone, and yet she didn’t know Elsa’s secret. Only one person knew that.
“Oooh, look! You got more flowers!” said Olaf, walking through the door between her room and the dressing area with a large bouquet.
“Olaf!” Elsa pulled him through the door before Gerda saw him. “You know you’re not supposed to be in the dressing room. You can’t leave my room at all without me. Especially this week. There are too many people in the castle.”
“Technically, I didn’t leave your room,” Olaf pointed out. “The dressing room is attached.”
Elsa took the flowers from Olaf and placed them on her desk. “I know, but you promised me you’d stay in here.”
The snowflakes over Olaf’s head fell faster. “But it looks like so much fun out there! I peeked through the keyhole and saw someone pushing a cart with a chocolate cake.”
“I will have some cake sent to the room,” Elsa promised. “I know it’s hard, but we can’t risk anyone finding a talking snowman roaming the halls today.”
Olaf frowned. “You say that every day.”
She grabbed his twiglike hand. “I know. I’m sorry.”
There were no words for how sorry she was. Olaf was the closest thing she had to family. He had been her constant companion the past three years, and she never let him leave the room unless she was absolutely positive they weren’t going to be seen.
Occasionally, the two of them escaped her room. A few times she had stuck Olaf underneath a tea cart and wheeled him to the staircase so they could dash up to the attic. Repeated trips had turned up nothing on Anna. The mysterious trunk with the letter A held tiny dresses and bonnets, but there was nothing there that suggested A was for Anna, or that it was a clue to who Anna was. Elsa had exhausted herself searching for information on this lost girl Olaf was sure she knew. Visits to her parents’ library also turned up nothing, and there was no record in the castle chapel of an Anna being born. Once, she’d even mentioned Anna’s name to Lord Peterssen, hoping to get a reaction, but he looked utterly confused. The only one who remembered her was Olaf, and he apparently had memory loss.
“After the coronation, we will find time to let you poke around the attic again,” Elsa said brightly, and Olaf’s eyes widened.
“Not just the attic!” Olaf said. “Once you’re queen you can tell everyone about your wonderful gift.”
Gift. Sometimes the gift felt more like a curse. She’d learned to control her magic a bit in the past few years, but only when it came to what she could intentionally create. Snow mounds, yes. But if she found herself getting upset or anxious, she couldn’t stop snow from falling, no matter how hard she tried. “I’m not sure that’s wise.”
“Why not? Everyone would love some snow on a day as hot as this.” Olaf walked to the window, his personal flurry cloud following, and looked out. “They’re roasting out there getting everything ready for your coronation. Oh, look! They have lots of banners for you. Hi, people!”
Elsa pulled him back from the window. “I am not sure the kingdom will be happy to know they have a queen who can make ice.”
“Anna always liked it,” Olaf offered.
That was what he’d do sometimes. He’d drop Anna’s name into the conversation as if they should both know who he was talking about. But the minute she tried to pull at the loose thread, the conversation unraveled.
“When did I make snow for Anna, again?”
Olaf clapped his hands excitedly. “Ooh…well…” He frowned. “I don’t remember.”
Elsa smiled sadly. “It’s all right. One day you will.”
Olaf nodded. “Let’s see you practice for your coronation again.”
“I’m not sure I’m ready to do that right now.” Elsa hesitated. “Gerda is waiting.”
“You can do it this time!” Olaf cheered her on. “I know you can.”
“All right.” Elsa walked to her desk and looked down at the small porcelain jar and candlestick. She had been using them as stand-ins for the orb and scepter she would have to hold, like her father did during his coronation. As she had many times before, Elsa closed her eyes and tried to imagine herself inside the chapel where the ceremony would take place. She thought of the choir that would be singing in the balcony, and she could see the pulpit she would be standing at in front of the priest and all her people, as well as nobles and visiting dignitaries. With no family, she’d be up there alone. Elsa tried not to think about that as she imagined the priest placing the jeweled tiara on her head. Then he’d hold out the pillow with the orb and scepter for her to take. She couldn’t wear her teal gloves during that portion of the ceremony, so she removed them now for practice. She wore gloves all the time these days. Perhaps it was silly, but she thought the gloves helped her conceal her magic. This was her battle cry: Conceal it. Don’t feel it. Don’t let it show.
“You’re almost there,” Olaf said encouragingly.
This was the hardest part. Elsa reached down with trembling fingers and lifted the porcelain jar in one hand and the candlestick in the o
ther. She repeated the prayer she knew the priest would say while she held the objects. “Sem hón heldr inum helgum eignum ok krýnd í þessum helga stað ek té fram fyrir yðr…Queen Elsa of Arendelle.”
Then she would need to turn around with the orb and scepter in her hands as the people chanted, “Queen Elsa of Arendelle!”
“Queen Elsa of Arendelle!” Olaf shouted.
Elsa held her breath. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this, she told herself. Her hands trembled despite her attempts to keep them steady. Olaf watched her anxiously. I can do this.
The bottom of the porcelain jar began to crackle with ice. The candlestick froze in her fingers. She quickly put them down and pulled on her gloves.
“You almost had it.” Olaf smiled toothily. “We’ll try again later.”
She couldn’t tell Olaf it was hopeless. How would she get through the ceremony without giving herself away?
But Olaf had already moved on. “Look at your beautiful flowers!” Olaf said. “Don’t they smell great?” He took a whiff and sneezed all over them. “I wonder who they’re from?”
Elsa picked up the card that was tucked inside the bouquet of purple heather. “I have a pretty good idea.” She read the note.
I enjoyed spending time with you yesterday. Could I entice you with another walk around the garden this afternoon? I think it will help put your mind at ease about your big day.
Elsa smiled to herself.
“The prince really does like you!” Olaf observed, looking over her shoulder. “I think.”
“Perhaps,” she agreed.
“He’s asked you for a walk every day since he arrived!” Olaf reminded her. “And he’s sent you chocolates, flowers, and all those books.”
“That’s true.” The prince was always talking to her about the books he read—he loved to read as much as she did—and whenever he finished another one, he had it delivered to her room with a single flower pressed inside the pages.
The prince had accompanied the Duke of Weselton on a trip to Arendelle a few months earlier, and she’d been surprised at how well she and he had hit it off. Unlike the nosy duke, the prince was polite and seemed to know she needed time to warm up to people. He asked thoughtful questions about her studies and training and liked to discuss history and architecture. They’d spent hours talking about her family’s rule in Arendelle and how it had lasted several decades. His family was relatively new to the throne in his kingdom, so he constantly wanted to hear her opinions on trade and foreign affairs. They’d become so close, yet there was still so much she couldn’t tell him.
There was another knock on the dressing room door. “Elsa? Are you ready?”
“Coming!” Elsa called. She looked back at Olaf.
“I know what to do,” he told her. “Stay here, be quiet, and if anyone appears, hide. Maybe I’ll even do some cleaning. This room is rather dusty.”
He wasn’t wrong. Since she never let anyone in to clean, it had gotten a bit musty. “Good idea. If you get bored, maybe you can see if there is anything in my hope chest I don’t need anymore,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve looked in there for years.”
Olaf nodded. “Ooh! I love hope chests.” He headed off to the chest and opened it wide. “Wow! There’s lots crammed in here.”
Elsa left him with his project. She came through the doorway between her dressing area and her bedroom and found Gerda patiently waiting. She stood next to a dress form, holding the gown Elsa would wear for her coronation. Every detail had been carefully planned for her big day.
Gerda smiled. “This is a gown fit for a queen, is it not?”
Elsa returned the smile. She didn’t have the heart to tell Gerda she found the dress a bit heavy when she walked, and the high neckline was restricting. Every time she put the gown on, she felt claustrophobic. “Everything you bring in is beautiful, Gerda.” This small room was one of her favorites. She loved the soothing blue hues of the wallpaper and the white wood accents, hand-painted with gold and purple rosemaling that picked up the colors of the rug on the floor. Sometimes she still couldn’t believe that she had a whole room just for dressing, but it helped to know she could walk into the adjacent room and not have to hide Olaf away.
“Shall we do one last fitting?” Gerda asked.
Elsa obliged, slipping behind the screen to put on the gown. When she emerged, Gerda had her stand on a wooden box in front of the large trifold mirror so that they could make final alterations.
There was a knock at the dressing room door. “May I enter?”
“Yes,” Gerda and Elsa said at the same time.
Lord Peterssen looked as if he might cry when he saw her. “Elsa, you are lovely. If your parents could see you today…”
She touched his hand. “I know. They’d be proud.”
He pulled a handkerchief out of the pocket of his blue jacket. “They truly would be. As am I,” he said with a smile.
The past three years had aged him. His thick black hair had thinned, and the gray was seeping through. He looked tired all the time. She could relate. Her parents’ absence had weighed on them both. But now the day had come when he would step aside from handling the royal affairs, while she would be entering a lifetime of duty. How was she going to keep her secret safe from the kingdom?
She felt her fingertips beginning to tingle inside her gloves. She pulled her hand away from Gerda, who was fixing a stitch on the gown’s midsection.
“This gown is ready and so are you,” Gerda said reassuringly.
A crash came from the other side of her bedroom wall. Then she heard a loud shriek.
Lord Peterssen appeared baffled. “Is there someone inside your chamber?”
Elsa stepped off the box and began backing out of the room. “Please excuse me for one moment. I left my windows open. A bird must have flown in,” she said. What is Olaf doing? “I’ll take care of it.”
“Do you want help?” Gerda asked.
“No!” Elsa said, a bit more forcefully than she intended. “I’ll be right back.”
Elsa hurried through the door to her bedroom and closed it. When she turned around, she saw Olaf had emptied her entire trunk. Papers, gowns, trinkets, and mementos were scattered around the floor. Olaf was bent over an object she couldn’t see, and he groaned loudly as he tried to lift it.
“Olaf!” she whispered. “What are you—oh!”
Olaf stood over a green wooden box she had long forgotten about. It was the lockbox her father had given her right before his final journey. Seeing it again brought tears to her eyes. “I forgot about this,” she said.
“Is it a present?” Olaf asked. “It’s so heavy!”
“It’s kind of like a present,” Elsa said, her heart warming at the sight of the rosemaling on the lid. She fingered the raised gold crest on the top. “My father used one of these boxes as king, and he gave me this one to have when I ruled. I guess that time is now.”
“What’s inside?” Olaf asked excitedly.
It was the first time in years she had opened the box. She lifted the lid and the empty green velvet lining stared back at them.
“It’s empty.” Olaf frowned.
“Elsa?” she heard from the dressing room.
“Coming!” Elsa placed the lockbox on the desk. “Thank you for finding this. I’ll return soon,” Elsa told him before slipping back into the dressing room, where Gerda was waiting patiently. “Bird. It’s gone now,” she explained.
“Why don’t you change and I’ll hang up the gown?” Gerda suggested. “Lord Peterssen had to leave, but you have another visitor waiting outside.”
Elsa quickly went behind the screen to change. Olaf would be okay in her room for a spell. It was a lovely day, and a walk around the castle grounds could be just what she needed. When she was dressed and ready, Gerda opened the door so Elsa could greet her guest. She had a feeling she knew who it was.
He bowed. “Princess Elsa of Arendelle, thank you for seeing me.” He held out his bent e
lbow. “Shall we take a walk?”
She took his arm. “Prince Hans of the Southern Isles, I’d be delighted.”
“You do not need to bow every time you see me, Hans,” Elsa said with a laugh.
He flashed her a charming smile and sighed. “Force of habit. I’ll stop doing that with time.”
Over the past few months, he’d given Elsa a lot of time.
He’d been patient.
He’d been a good listener.
He moved slowly, each motion or statement he made carefully considered. Hans learned quickly that the princess of Arendelle required a delicate approach.
The poor thing had been so broken when he met her it was obvious that she’d never really recovered from the loss of her parents. And she didn’t have any siblings to lean on. He couldn’t imagine what her life must have been like after such a tragedy. The large, empty castle must have felt like a tomb.
When the Duke of Weselton had visited the Southern Isles the previous fall, he had spoken at length about Arendelle and its orphaned princess and who would take over her kingdom. His twelve older brothers hadn’t paid any attention, but Hans had listened closely. Why should they bother? Most of them already knew their place in their kingdom; some of them had a chance to rule the islands or had married well and would rule elsewhere. As thirteenth in line, his chances of ruling were slim. He was the only one who knew what it was like to have to find a place to fit in the world. He could understand Elsa in a way no one else could. He had decided right then that he would journey to meet her. The Duke of Weselton, a devious fellow who was always looking for a new partnership, had been delighted. Hans had been residing in Arendelle ever since.
Yes, there were parts of home he missed. His brothers (sometimes), his father’s wisdom (all the time), and his islands, which were warmer and lusher than Arendelle. The problem was the Southern Isles never really seemed like they were going to be his kingdom.
Arendelle, on the other hand, just might be.
