RVAJ A Frozen Valentine

 

A FROZEN VALENTINE

 

 

 

    The cool winds of Winter’s air breezed by a small cafe in the capital city of Arrendele. But a lone individual in a light gray jacket, with the fleur-de-lis, didn’t seem to mind much. Nor did the odd little creature that stood next to him.

 

 

   “Its a mistake,” the creature mumbled sadly, turning his mismatched, and ever shifting eyes at his creator. “You don’t even know how to cook.” His voice was drull, monotone, and every bit as dreary as someone might even think he was when they looked at him. If the Arrendelians weren’t so used to him, they might have ran in fear. Seeing a living sand sculpture would do that to you.

 

 

   “It can’t be that hard to make chocolate,” Prince Luc, of the Southern Isles, said with a chuckle to his companion. “I mean, I’ve read all the books there are on it, Enok.”

 

 

   “And there aren’t all that many to begin with,” his sandy friend pointed out. The sun was starting to rise higher in the sky. Noon was upon them, and despite the increase of warmth, Enok frowned even more and inched towards the shadows, as if disappointed in the new heat as he was with the cool air a few minutes prior.

 

 

   “All the same, I’ve read them,” Luc intoned. “And this is Valentinsdaen. I honestly wouldn’t be much of a boyfriend to Elsa, if I didn’t get her one of her favorite foods.” The prince stood up and stretched, forgetting that he’d been painting on a piece of paper, and accidentally got some paint on one of the neighboring patrons. He smiled sheepishly, especially at the size of the man. The other shook his head and went to clean himself up.

 

 

   “You could try to buy her some,” Enok said and then sighed. “But she might choke on it, or worse, break out in hives, or some other horrible thing.” With each word he spoke faster, and with terror creeping in his voice. “Master,”

 

 

   “Luc,” the prince corrected. He might have created the little guy, like Elsa had with Olaf, but he didn’t like being called master by the sandman. Like the queen of this fair nation, he too had been born with powers, those of sand and influence of sleep. He frowned for a moment remembering the last year, how they’d met. How the world had come close to death because of both of them, or rather because of Morpheous and his bride, the Ice Queen. He’d been shy and refused friendship before then, even during that adventure. He was one of the brothers that Hans had told Anna about who ‘pretended’ that his brother hadn’t existed for two years. But that was because of his powers.

 

 

   “Luc, I don’t think this is a good idea!” the sandman whined.

 

 

    Luc chuckled. “It’ll be fine. No come on, the pots sure to have reached a boil by now. It was nice of the owner of this place to let me work here in secret.” He gave the little guy a wink and went back into the building.

 

 

*****

 

 

    He’d been right about the pot boiling. In fact it was near boiling over. “Ah snot!” Luc tore towards the pot, and grunted a bit as the heat pushed him back.

 

 

   “I warned you,” Enok whined, wobbling along on his short legs. His pudgy brown gray body nearly falling over. “Oh this is a disaster. The building’s going to catch on fire! The people are all going to get hurt, the queen is going to throw us in the dungeon. Oh the calamity!”

 

 

   “Oh will you stop!” Luc growled. He lurched forward and carefully used his powers, using sand to smother some of the flames, and lower the heat. He looked back at Enok and smiled. “See, no problem.” The young royal stood up and looked at those inside the kitchen, bowing apologetically. “I’d be most grateful if her majesty didn’t know about this,” he said. He smiled, trying to copy the same kind of smile as Hans normally did that got him out of trouble so much.

 

 

   “Of course, your highness,” the owner said. He was an elderly man, with patches of white where black hair used to be, and a thick mustache. He chuckled. “But next time, may I ask you to not leave the kitchen when you are cooking?”

 

 

   “Of course, and my apologies. I had saw a squirel sitting on a branch outside the window, and I just had to paint it.” His eyes widened, “Enok, could you go it,”

 

 

   “Its probably blown away or thrown in the trash, but I’ll look,” the sandman said with a groan. And off he went.

 

 

    The kitchen staff stood aside to let him go. It was a large rectangular room, with space for up to ten people. A table in the middle made of oak, was there for the staff to work on their orders. And two stoves, and one black pot were off in the corner. All the same, it seemed crowded to the prince. He turned, grabbing a spoon, and tasted the concoction, after first blowing on it. “That’s,” he frowned, and then rushed for a glass of water. “Well that’s interesting.”

 

 

    The owner chuckled, and patted the prince’s back. “You should listen to your friend there, and just buy her some of our chocolate, lad, ya?”

 

 

   “But I want this to be special. I mean this is our first holiday. Well one, and I was listening to the minister speak two days ago in the chapel and I feel I was just meant to do this.” Another ‘Hans’ grin. Truth be told, he some what resembled his younger brother. He was about the same size as Hans. Same hair color, a bowl cut hair style. His face was leaner and longer than Han’s. His whole body was leaner than his little brothers. He wasn’t bone thin, bit he wasn’t muscular as any of his brother’s either. His face was also adorned with numerous freckles as well.

 

 

    He was the oldest of all the boys. Thirty two, but most people assumed him to be in his mid twenties. Luc turned and frowned at the spoon, and then reached for his glasses from his pocket. Opening a book, he squinted his eyes, reading where he’d gone wrong. “What in the world is gratin?”

 

 

   “Lad, you’re looking at the wrong recipe,” the owner cackled, and took the book. He flipped through half a dozen pages and tapped on where the chocolates were. Luc’s face hung low. “But, no, that can’t be right I... wait, what?” He frowned and read again, paging back to where he’d been. “No, no no, this is all chocolate, isn’t it?” He closed the book and looked at the title.

 

 

   “Of course. But no all recipes make the same kinds of candies you hope to make for Queen Elsa.”

 

 

   “I knew this was a mistake,” Enok groaned, returning to the kitchen. In his hand, he was holding the painting. In the other, he held another hand. A very pale, thin hand. A very feminine hand.

 

 

   “Elsa?!” the prince squeaked. His eyes widened, and in shock his control of the sand lessened. And the flames returned, enough that the nearly cooled chocolate gratin began to bubble over with renewed strength. The pot rumbled as the prince, still now quite aware, looked at the sandman. “Why did you bring her,” he began asking, when the pot exploded.

 

 

    The queen shrieked her boyfriend’s name, as molten brown food stuffs came flying from the pot. Acting quickly, Elsa used her own powers, freezing it, before anyone would be hit with it. Luc, coming to his senses used his own, to snuff the flames, with more sand. And then, looked at his mess.

 

 

*****

 

 

   “I am so sorry,” the tired young man said to Elsa, hours later. They’d spent a good hour apologizing, and Elsa promised the owner that Luc would indeed clean up the mess. He’d finished, and it was nearly midnight. The holiday was over. He was just lucky that she’d still be up, and not asleep, when he got back to the palace. “I, just thought I could do that. I wanted to surprise you.”

 

 

    Enok had told him she’d found him retrieving his painting, that she said she’d been looking everywhere for him, and was quiet worried.

 

 

    Elsa’s jaw was tight, her eyes firm, her shoulders tense. Then she closed her eyes, and began to giggle. Upon seeing his confusion, she walked up to him, and brushed some of the candied mess from his hair. “I understand, Luc. But you could have just surprised me with chocolate you bought.”

 

 

    Luc rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Everyone’s said that. I mean, I know I should have listened and everything, but I just thought...,” he kept stumbling over his words. He might have continued, had the queen not plopped a chocolate covered strawberry into his open mouth. He looked at her in shock, and then chewed it. Before he could saw another word, she reached over and kissed his cheek.

 

 

   “Its still Valentinsdaen,” she said. “And do you really want to know what I’d like as a present?” She cocked her head, and looked at him with large doe eyes, and a tiny crocked smile.

 

 

    His heart raced a bit, as he looked at the clock that read that it was eleven twenty in the evening. “Huh?” he groaned.

 

   “A nice, long, shoulder massage,” she said as regally as she could. “Maybe even a foot one too? Its been a long day.”

 

 

    Her boyfriend blushed, and ran his hand along the backside of his head. “Well, it has, at that. But if that’s what my queen commands.”

 

 

   “It is,” she smiled. “Your girlfriend does too,” she added playfully.

 

 

   “Then, its my pleasure to comply, your majesty.”