Cross Purposes
by Concolor44
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Author's Supplemental Note:
To those of you who were following this story before, please allow me to apologize (again) for the experimental nature of my yarn-spinning. Trying new things is a failing of mine. I was going for something along the lines of the way the movie "Vantage Point" was done, but the execution lacked quite a bit of finesse. So I've taken it down for re-write.
The plot will remain basically unchanged. I will be adhering (mostly) to chronological order. Hopefully that will greatly reduce the levels of confusion that have arisen around this story.
This is the original Author's Note:
My Muse has finally gotten around to this sequel to "Meltdown" (although technically, I guess this would be the sequel to "Melted", since Carlos and Elsa are already married in this one). I debated with myself as to whether I should post the chapters as I write them, or finish it and then post on a regular schedule. It wasn't really much of a debate, though. The last time I tried that (with "Inviolate") I'd planned to post one chapter a week, but ended up posting one or two a day. That didn't give readers enough time to absorb things so they could comment, and some had trouble keeping up. I didn't want to do that again. So here's the first chapter.
Enjoy!
Standard Disclaimer …
Given:
- I have no official connection in any capacity with "Frozen" or Disney/Pixar
- I realize no profit of any kind from this story
- The Powers That Be at Disney/Pixar have no knowledge of, nor do they acknowledge in any way, this story
- Only the plot of this story, and any incidental characters, belong to me
Then:
- I request that Disney/Pixar not get their panties in a twist over this little diversion, because …
- Being flat broke, it won't do them any good to sue me, and therefore …
- Everyone just sit back, relax, and enjoy the story (if tales of this stripe are your thing)
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Prologue
(A Recap of Some Events Occurring at the End of Our Previous Story)
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Monday 20 September 1841
Anna gazed after her departing sister for a moment, hiding a grin at her discomfiture. Then she turned back to their 'visitors', her eyes flicking between Morana and Nicolai Petrov. Gesturing at him, she asked, "What do I do with him?"
A lascivious grin growing, Morana said, "You really want some pointers? He's got a lot of repressed anger that comes out as-"
"… Ew! Ew-ew-ew! No! That is not what I meant!"
"Ha! I'm only teasing. I know how you feel about your Prince."
"Good. So … what do I …"
"If it were up to me, I'd find an empty room somewhere and install him there. He'll be a formidable addition to the Queen's Own Guard, if they can hold off killing him long enough to get to know him."
"I think Carlos sorta knows him already, and he seems to like him well enough. Maybe he could put in a good word?"
"Sure. We'll go with that." She rubbed her hands together and said, "Well, I'm off."
"Oh?"
"Yes. I'm going to get my husband back from that mortal bimbo he's shacked up with."
"… Oh!"
"Yeah. And this time I think I've got a decent chance of keeping him."
"Well … okay. Good luck with that."
"Thanks." And she vanished.
Nicolai blinked twice and focused on Anna. "Princess?"
She took a half-step back, her hand going to her ice-crystal pendant. "Mr. Petrov."
"Am I … am I in Arendelle again?"
"Yes."
He nodded to himself. "Well and good." Standing straight, he said, "I would offer my services to your Good Lady Queen."
"Yeah, that's what Morana said you might do." She gave her head a jerk. "Follow me."
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Friday 24 September 1841
Anna looked up from where she stood behind a tall table, immediately whipping her right hand around behind her back and dropping something small that clicked on the floor. "Kristoff! Hi! What – what brings you here?"
Briefly, he studied the objects arrayed on the table: a basin of water with a washcloth, a thin paring knife, a dagger that looked as if it were made of ice, a small clock, a cheese grater, a loaded pin-cushion, a cleaver, and several towels, one of which had some large blood stains. Drawing a long breath, he said, "This? Again, with this? You told me you'd stop doing this!"
"I did not. I … said I'd cut back."
"The important word there being 'cut'. And that's not how I remember the conversation." Moving closer to stand opposite her, he said, "Let's see that hand."
She bit her lower lip, not meeting his eyes. "Um …"
He stalked around the table and not-un-gently pulled her right hand out where he could see it. Three long tacks protruded from her palm, each surrounded by a tiny bit of blood. Swallowing hard and looking away, he choked out, "Anna!"
"It doesn't hurt! Really! Not … not much, anyway. And not for long." Three quick pulls had them out, and she tossed them onto the bloody towel.
His eyes fell to that towel, then moved to the other items. He noticed blood on the ice dagger and the cheese grater. "Anna … why are you doing this, and how can I get you to stop?"
She was still looking anywhere but at her Prince. "I'm … curious. That's all."
"But you already know you can heal. You know how fast, even. Isn't that enough? I can't … it's too … Anna, I can't stand the thought of you being hurt!"
"But …" Her voice almost trembled. "It doesn't really. Much."
Taking her hands in his, he closed his eyes and pulled a long breath in through his nose. "Sweetheart … I love you."
"I know."
"Can you understand how seeing sharp objects sticking out of you might not be my favorite thing?"
"Well … yeah. But …"
"Anna, please. For me?"
She turned his question over in her mind. Truthfully, his request frustrated her. She didn't want to stay in the dark about her abilities. She wanted to explore them, test them, even push them. She was glad he hadn't come in when she'd had that long ice dagger buried in her gut. He probably would have fainted. "Kristoff … how about if I get Doctor Odum to help?"
"What do you mean, help?"
"He can watch. He's a doctor. He'd be right there if anything went wrong."
"If you don't cut yourself in the first place, nothing can go wrong."
"But … I want to learn about it."
"Anna, please! What is there left to learn?" He stepped behind her, wrapped her in his arms. "If you get cut, it'll bleed a little and then heal up tight in ten minutes or so. If you get burned, that takes a little longer, but you don't even scar, and …"
"Kristoff … all I can say is that I'm sorry. What do you expect me to say? This is how I feel."
"And this is how I feel! It totally creeps me out! You'd react the same way if you saw me with knives stuck in my arm, and you can't tell me you wouldn't."
She had a sudden inspiration. Both of her hands raised to curl around his forearms, fingers tapping against his muscles. "You want me to be safe."
"Of course I –"
She spun in his embrace and met his gaze with an intense one of her own. "Then you should want me to do this."
"… What?"
"Because the more I do it, the better I get at it."
One of his eyebrows climbed incredulously. "Meaning what, exactly?"
"You said it was taking me ten minutes or so to heal, but that's not so anymore. It's faster. It's like building a muscle or something!" Striding to the table, she removed her pendant necklace, spun the clock so they could see it, picked up the ice dagger and turned to face him. "Watch."
"Anna, no!" He started toward her.
She plunged the blade completely through her right forearm, wincing at the sharp pain.
Kristoff skidded to a halt, revulsion flooding his face. "AAAIIIIGHHH!"
Yanking the dagger back out, Anna dispassionately watched as the wound closed, the bleeding stopped, the scabs formed and turned dark and fell off. The entire process had occupied about a hundred seconds.
A hesitant finger came Anna's way. She didn't move. He traced down where the scar had faded. "Whoa."
"That's what I'm talkin' about."
"And it doesn't hurt?"
"Not even a little. You see? Now … I don't know if I'm … well, unkillable or anything, but right now I'm pretty damned durable. And it's because I've been practicing."
"Anna … the thought of you being hurt twists me up in knots."
"That's why I think this is important."
"No, you don't understand. It's … it's the thinking about it."
"… Huh?"
"You're … you're practicing to get hurt. That's all I can think about. You're planning to … to need this ability. You're expecting for something horrible to happen to you! And it's the thinking about it … the anticipation … and you already went through that once, and …"
"Oh, Sweetheart, I'm so sorry." Suddenly she understood. It wasn't what she was doing, it was the associations he made because of it. Taking his face in her two hands, she gave him her most genuine, winning smile. "I would never want to make you worry. You deserve better than that."
The look he gave her embodied several questions.
She shook her head, her gentle smile turning into a wry grin. "We'll have to talk this out. I can tell. I need all the details you're concerned about. You need all my reasons for doing it. We'll work through it. I promise."
He gave her a long, quiet stare, finally sighing. "If you say so."
"We will. Trust me."
Eyeing his bride warily, he slowly nodded. "Okay. But we still have a lot of talking to do."
"I know."
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Tuesday 28 September 1841
Maria Cristina, the recently-deposed Regent of Spain, sat primly in the parlor of her Paris apartments, and took a discreet sip of her tea. "So you have been given lately to understand," she said, carefully studying the map laid out on the table between her and her two visitors, "that this self-styled Snow Queen holds her younger sister in the highest regard?"
The men, one old and one young, both nodded assent. "That is correct, Excellency."
"Why?"
"They have been close since early childhood, as I heard the tale."
"And the younger has no designs on the throne? None at all?"
"The elder was groomed for the position," explained the white-haired man, his bright blue eyes showing his amusement. "The Princess Anna, let us say, has no aptitude for ruling. She is a populist."
"A populist? And the Queen allows this in a member of the royal family? I've heard of being indulgent, but that is simply inexcusable!"
The younger man cleared his throat again. "As I understand the situation, Queen Elsa is secluded much of the time, and so –"
"I have heard that, yes." She interrupted, tilting her head, birdlike, as she studied him. "Are you new with the Ministry of Foreign Affairs? I have been trying to place you, and failing."
"I am new in this department, Excellency. I've been with the Ministry for more than five years."
"What was that other man's name? du Pont, was it? d'Espèrey's attaché, wasn't he? He always had a unique approach to things. Why isn't he here?"
The older man answered smoothly, "Mssr. du Pont is currently in hospital with broken legs. He had an, ah, unfortunate accident. He was run down in the street by a wagon."
She sat back the tiniest bit, eyeing him keenly. "… Was he, now."
"Yes."
She ruminated on that for a bit, finally shaking herself loose. "Well … accidents do happen, don't they?"
"Quite." He let slip not a word about the truth of the matter, which was that Mssr. du Pont had objected strongly to Minister Thiers's plan, declaring that the Snow Queen would never be coerced. His stance had been viewed as disloyal.
The younger man picked up the conversation and dusted it off. "It is Princess Anna who is the Queen's voice among the people. The common men love her, and because of that, they tolerate Elsa."
Snorting delicately, Maria Cristina dismissed the concept with the wave of a carefully manicured hand. "Mssr. Cardin … royalty exists to rule, not to be tolerated. I will show General Espartero the truth of that maxim, once I get my throne back. Bloody Liberal." She paused for another sip. "Is her position so precarious? The tales are fanciful, but in one version she had accidentally caused some sort of snow storm, though that seems an exaggeration. That, apparently, is how she earned her 'Snow Queen' title. One would imagine that the rabble would think twice, and twice again, before risking her anger … assuming there's any truth to it."
"Ah … well, as to that …" He glanced over at the elder ambassador, who gave a tiny shrug. "Her control over the weather is reported to be quite, ah, profound." Fingers drummed the arm of the chair for a moment. "Do you know, Excellency, that our beloved capitol, indeed, all our western reaches, are still feeling the effects of that monstrous storm last winter?"
"… Yes." She gave a tiny frown at the non-sequitur. "Yes, I've heard all about the damage here, frequently in exhausting detail. It was nothing compared with Spain's suffering. Every port from Bilbao to Cadiz lost ships. Portugal was all but leveled. What of it?"
"That same storm came to Arendelle. Queen Elsa directed it around the kingdom. They took no hurt."
"… What? … None?"
"None."
The ex-Regent gave him a totally nonplussed look. "You cannot be serious."
"I have researched the history of the events surrounding her coronation, and have corroborated the stories of all her exploits since then. She did, truly, keep her land unscathed. They lost not one shingle, ripped not one sail. She can call weather at will, make it snow, create strong winds … or stop them."
Maria Cristina considered this information for a moment. "How does she do it?"
"We don't know. It has been confirmed, though, that she is no sorceress. She was born with this power."
"She could … she could bury enemy armies in snow! Blow their ships off course. Or wreck them if she felt like it. She could make your military forces all but invincible! Does Louis Phillipe know of this?"
"He was informed. He dismissed my report as nonsense."
"Eh. I can't quite claim to be surprised. If it doesn't involve his appetite for food or women … well. His loss."
"I quite agree."
"So … Then, why have you not taken … Oh, I see. Like fire, she would make a useful servant, but a fearsome master."
"Correct. I have no desire to bring her wrath down on my homeland."
"Understandable. I'd feel the same way. So what is the point of our having this conversation?"
"As we discussed, the Queen holds her sister in extremely high regard."
"Yes? And?"
"If we could gain control of the sister, we would have control of the Queen."
A series of blinks preceded a frown, which then morphed into a look of puzzlement. She contemplated her teacup for a few heartbeats. "I can see how that might be true. But, like you gentlemen, I have no wish for my kingdom to be destroyed. I doubt that being buried under several ells of snow would do Spain any good, nor can I see the Snow Queen forgiving such an affront."
"Correct. That is why we'd like for you to do this as a representative of Austria."
It took several seconds, but at length the predatory smile on her face matched the glitter in her eye. "Oh, very good."
"We are even now working to establish an embassy in Arendelle proper. It will do nicely as a beachhead for our, ah, purposes."
"Minister Thiers … you gentlemen have intrigued me. And if what you say is true, her aid could soon put me back on the throne where I belong."
They glanced at each other again, the same thought running through both their minds: "Among other things."
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Thursday 30 September 1841
Cardinal Papella's midday meal was waiting on him at his desk, still warm under a lid that kept heat in and flies out. He went to the rack on one wall and chose a bottle of wine, then moved over to the sideboard. This morning's negotiations had left him sorely in need of a drink. Damned Austria. He cared not a whit for their interference in Florence's plans, but they should damn well leave the Papal States alone.
He inspected a wine glass for stains or dirt, nodded, and set it on the table. Fishing his corkscrew out of a drawer, he soon had the bottle open and a glass poured. He downed half of it at a swallow, smacked his lips, and topped off the glass. Then he turned back to his desk … and nearly dropped the wine.
"Good afternoon, Your Eminence."
He'd heard nothing, seen nothing, yet this rather formidable-looking man was now seated on the other side of his desk. The old man squinted at his unexpected visitor, judging the distance to the pull-bell by the door that would bring two guards running. "And who might you be?"
"My identity is not important. I represent the Guild."
Papella almost dropped his glass again, and stared suspiciously into its depths.
"Please. If I wanted you dead, you'd never have known I was here. Give me some credit for professionalism."
"Very well." A trembling hand set the wine next to his food. "Why, then, are you here?"
"When you contacted us, you claimed that Elsa of Arendelle was a witch."
"… I … well, yes. Only a witch could do what she can do."
"Or a sorcerer, perhaps?"
Papella waved that off. "Same thing."
"It isn't, you know."
"The end effect is the same. They have damned themselves."
The assassin toyed with a thin gold chain he wore around his neck. "Elsa of Arendelle is no witch."
"But …"
"She is much, much more powerful than that."
"… I'm sorry … what, exactly, do you mean?"
Sighing, the man crossed his legs at the ankle. "You didn't bother to check your assumptions. Witches are nothing like sorcerers. Sorcery requires aid from the Underworld, the exchange of a soul for power. Witchcraft is nothing more than the careful manipulation of forces already present in our world, something anyone with time and a thirst for knowledge can achieve. Learning natural medicine will no more damn your soul than will that glass of wine."
"So … so then she's a sorceress."
"No."
"But you said …"
"We have ways of detecting and neutralizing sorcery. Don't imagine that you are the first person to ever have a grudge against a wielder of black magic. The Snow Queen's power is neither witchcraft nor sorcery."
Papella grasped at the concept, but it eluded him. "I don't understand."
"What we have determined is that Elsa is the living avatar of one of the ancient goddesses of winter, most probably Morana."
"… Who?"
The man gave a snort of derision. "And you call yourself learned."
The Cardinal decided he'd had about enough of that attitude. Huffing slightly, he lowered himself into his chair and lifted the cover off his lunch. "Well since you seem to know everything about everything, enlighten me."
"There are other forces, other planes of existence – and I don't mean only your Catholic Heaven and Hell and Purgatory. There are many. They weave in and around our own mundane world, unseen and unfelt … unless some of those inhabitants desire contact."
That concept made Papella's skin crawl. "Why should I believe you?"
"The Snow Queen uses such magic. It is vastly more potent that anything our Guild has faced before."
"Oh. That's why you failed."
The man's face clouded with suppressed rage and contempt. "Do not assume too much, sir. We would have succeeded, and handily, if the Queen had been what you claimed in the contract. That you gave us false information is on your head."
"Are you trying to back out of the contract? Is that what this is about? I paid you a king's ransom for-"
A knife he'd not seen drawn suddenly appeared quivering in his desk a hair's breadth from his hand, shutting him up instantly.
"You contracted us under false pretenses. Your fee is forfeit."
The Cardinal opened his mouth to object, thought it over for half a second, and closed it again. "Very well. So I've wasted my money."
"Your money? My sources tell me …"
"Semantics. It was money under my control, ergo, my money. And you're telling me it was wasted. If that's all you have to say …"
"It is not."
Silently Papella waited.
"If we had known of the Snow Queen's true nature, we would have taken the contract anyway."
"But not three minutes ago you said …"
"We would have taken it under different terms."
The wheels in his head suddenly spinning at high speed, Papella sat back. "Oh."
"Yes, 'Oh'."
"You wish to renegotiate."
The man nodded.
"Interesting."
"So then the question becomes, what is it really worth to you to have Elsa of Arendelle in your power?"
"Yes," agreed Papella, turning his attention once more to his meal. "That truly is a most interesting question."
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Thursday 14 October 1841
Tomás Banderas, the man standing on the other side of the desk, had confidence written all over him. "Yes, General. I am completely serious. I have his name, the locations of his estates, an approximate estimate of his total worth … and the fact that he is betrothed to Elsa of Arendelle."
Don Joaquín Baldomero Fernández-Espartero y Alvarez de Toro, the elected Genereal-Regent of Spain, stared incredulously at his subaltern for several beats. "So you are telling me that the Snow Queen, who by all careful reckoning is now quite probably the most powerful being on Earth, is planning to marry one of my hidalgos? I could scarcely conceive a more fortuitous stroke of luck!"
"Which is why I knew you had to be made aware of it as soon as possible. I returned with all due speed."
"When is the wedding?"
"They hadn't decided before I left, but rumors have it that they wish to hold it in the early spring. They've known each other less than two months, but I've had reliable word that they would marry tomorrow if decorum didn't dictate otherwise."
"… An affair of the heart? Can it be?"
"Yes, sir."
"God does love me after all! Even after narrowly avoiding resignation last May, I was not convinced that my policies could carry the day. But now!"
"Indeed, sir. De la Maria will surely have the ear of the Queen. If you make your wishes known to him …"
Espartero's mustache received several vigorous rubs while he thought. "We need to welcome her into the fold."
Tomás grinned. "A warm welcome, indeed, beloved sister that she will be to us."
"You will go now and prepare a diplomatic corps of, say, five trusted men." He held up a finger. "And see if you can find a woman to go with them. Perhaps she can gain the Queen's confidence."
"Only one woman?"
"There aren't two at Court who get along. If we sent two, they would bicker. Not a good impression on the Queen."
"Ah. Of course."
He laced his fingers together and rested his chin on the lattice. "We must put our best foot forward."
"I will get right on it, sir."
"And, Tomás …"
"Sir?"
"How widespread is this knowledge?"
"I'd say … not very. They have published nothing official. No invitations, not even the banns. Their friends know, but, really, I'd be surprised if the news had escaped Arendelle yet."
"… Excellent." He waved the wave of one who knows his orders will be obeyed. "Go make it happen."
"Yes, sir."
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End Note:
So. All that happened. All that is important to understanding The Rest of The Story. Stay tuned!
All comments welcomed.