The Ocean is Calling

Up until now, the cold had never bothered her.

In this northern part of the world, snow was the ever constant companion of Arendelle through at least six months of the year – seven if spring took its time in arriving. She'd lived in the snow. Played in the snow. Over the years, as she'd tried to keep the snow at bay while her heart became ever more one with ice, she had still never felt the cold. In joy or sorrow, comfort or fear, the touch of winter had never pierced her skin, or sullied her soul.

It was different now. Drenched from head to toe, stumbling back onto the beach coughing, Elsa found herself shivering. The sea to the north of Arendelle was only good for swimming in three months of the year, and it was an activity she had never partook in since her world had changed a second time – when the ice spread and the snow gathered. Here, on the beach, coughing up salty water upon the sand, she felt the touch of cold. Water was the cousin to ice, but the ocean was different. Ice was static. Ice remained at her command. The ocean however, refused to be tamed. Water flowed from mountains, cut through lands, and could only be held at bay for so long. Water, it seemed, was her enemy. Water, it seemed, was the opponent of ice.

She turned her gaze back to the ocean, to the dark waves crashing upon the shores of Scandinavia. The ocean kept churning away, indifferent to even a queen of Arendelle, or any other that might call the land home. Raising a hand, she dared to imagine freezing it all. To end the ocean's dance, and link her lands with the tip of the world. Dared to imagine, but held back. With little effort on her part, she'd frozen the fjord of Arendelle and brought disaster, that disaster averted only by a magic beyond her control. Should she bring eternal ice to the ocean, she could scarce imagine the damage it might do, or the magic that might be required to undo it.

Getting to her feet, she prepared to start again. Perhaps she could not tame the ocean. But she could defy it nonetheless. Taking a breath, the Snow Queen began sprinting down the sand towards the darkness that awaited her. The autumn air turned even cooler as she channelled her powers, ready to defy the liquid eternity before her and-

Because that worked so well last time.

She came to a halt – not instantly, but rather decreasing her pace so that by the time she stopped, the water lapped against her toes.

"Who's there?" she asked.

The water didn't answer any more than the sand or sky.

"Hello?"

There was still no answer. Only the churning of eternity.

Have I gone mad?

If one went mad, and knew they'd gone mad, did that count as going mad? She wasn't sure. There was no shortage of mad kings and queens in Europe – somehow they remained on their thrones for periods of time that were much longer than madness would indicate. Frowning, she turned away from the water. She had no time to indulge in madness.

Do you turn to return to land, or turn to once again attempt failure?

She spun around again. The voice was perfect Norwegian, but it wasn't her own, and it wasn't a voice she recognised. Channelling ice into the fist of her right hand, she reflected that either madness had a voice of its own, or someone…something…was indeed talking to her.

"Reveal yourself," she said.

If she wasn't mad, then the alternative wasn't that palatable either.

Is that your command, or your wish? The voice asked.

"As queen of Arendelle, I command it."

Then who am I to answer your demand? The voice whispered. Do I count among your subjects? Does your domain cover the seas of this world?

"I stand within my domain," Elsa said.

And I within mine. So should I reveal myself, do we stand as equals?

Equals…Elsa took a breath and unclenched her fist. "Reveal yourself, and I'll see where we stand."

The world didn't consist of equals she reflected, no matter what Anna might say. There was a hierarchy – one might rail against it. Scream against it. But it was there. She was queen of a kingdom, and had powers beyond that of any normal man or woman. She wasn't among equals. But the test of any ruler was to work as best they could within that hierarchy.

Very well. I shall stand.

Elsa blinked as the sight unfolded before her. Right now, thoughts of equals, of kings and queens, of the divine right ordained by God Almighty, were slipping from her focus.

The one before her was standing, but even that was a dubious distinction. She did not stand upon the shore, but rather, extended from the water. The figure was water. Also female, and of similar height. For a moment, Elsa was reminded of mermaids, before reminding herself that mermaids were at least physical, and were meant to have big flappy tails.

So then, the visitor asked. Are we equals?

Her lips didn't move, Elsa reflected. She had some – mouth, eyes, nose, ears, but they appeared as simulacrum rather than anything physical.

"I…" Elsa cleared her throat. "To whom do I speak?"

The ocean.

"I'm talking to the ocean?"

Yes. No. Partially.

"Speak clearly or not at all."

A demand. So we are not equals then?

"Obviously not."

And why then?

"Because…" She took a breath. "Because if I'm addressing the ocean, then either I am mad, or what I see and hear is true, in which case I'm nothing."

Queen of the Ice and Snow, admitting she's nothing?

Elsa remained silent.

Well, admitting she's humble at least. The figure laughed and began twirling around. A column of water extended from her base, allowing her to reach out over the sand towards Elsa, coming face to face with her. But not so humble that you have forfeited your endeavour?

"What endeavour?" Elsa murmured.

I cannot say. I can only observe that you appear intent on crossing the ocean through a bridge of ice. The figure drew back and folded her arms, a smirk on her watery face. A dozen times already, perhaps? Two-dozen? I concede that you get further each time, but you've yet to travel even a mile.

"And what of it?"

Well I wonder whether it's destination or journey that drives you. Because if it's destination, you've apparently failed. And if journey, I can only surmise that you have yet to reach journey's end, because the same trek is what you keep attempting.

Elsa scowled. "And what do you think it is?"

What do I think? The water figure laughed. I think you're like me. I think it's neither destination nor journey. I think rather, it's the ocean's call. The call I heard once.

"The call you heard?" Elsa asked. "You, the ocean?"

I the ocean, and not. Part of the ocean, but still separate.

"What are you on about?"

The river meets the ocean. The river does not disappear. Even as one enters the other, the source still remains.

"Unless it freezes or dries up," Elsa said.

In this part of the world, one is more likely than the other, the figure said.

"And in other parts?"

The figure said nothing.

"Well?"

The figure said nothing.

"Have you lost your wits or your tongue?"

The figure said nothing.

"Fine," Elsa said. "Then I bid you good evening."

She turned round and began heading up the beach again. She couldn't shake the feeling that maybe she was mad. Not just from talking to the ocean, but doing this thing in the very first place.

I wonder, the voice whispered, words carried on the salty wind. Is the call you hear that of the ocean? Or are they the cries of those taken from you, subsumed within the depths?

Elsa, for the second time that evening, felt cold. Elsa, for the first time that evening, felt fear.

"What did you say?" she whispered.

They cried for you, the figure said. Your sister as well.

Elsa began marching towards the shore. "You have no idea what you're taking about."

Stones erected in their memory, but no bodies to enter the soil of this land. The true tomb is under the northern sea, forever cut off from land and light.

"That's enough!" Elsa reached the shore's end. Ice gathered around both her hands, and the air turned colder still. Even the water lapping at the shore began to freeze. "You…you have no idea what…what I…"

I have every idea, the figure whispered. Beheld death. Tasted death, before taken by the ocean. The call was answered, and my service never ended.

"Service…I rule a kingdom. What would you know about service?"

Service of a hundred times a hundred years across seven seas. To see life and death, joy and despair. Seen enough to say enough.

"What?"

Enough, Queen of Arendelle. Ice will not be your bridge to your parents' true tomb. Ice will not raise the chariot that took them to the hereafter, and ice will not bring them back to warmth.

Elsa said nothing. The ice in her hands dissipated. The ice in her heart began to spread before melting – blood carried fire. Tears could carry heat. Through them, she saw the figure look around. Up at the stars. Out to the sea.

The sea and stars are different here, the figure whispered. New stars through which to navigate. Seas colder, and less empty. The sun more distant. The moon though…that is the same here. The mistress of the tides is the same across every corner of this earth.

Elsa said nothing. Not even as the figure extended a watery hand. Not even as the hand touched her shoulder. She felt wet. But not cold.

South is where your solace lies, Queen of Arendelle. To where the leaves of autumn cloak the land. The north offers naught but ice and death. She withdrew the hand and sighed. The ocean is calling.

The figure moved out into the sea, her body shrinking into its depths. Elsa remained standing on the shore.

"May I know your name?" she asked.

The figure turned to face the queen. A look was in her eyes that was a mix of mirth and sorrow – a look Elsa knew all too well, whenever she had seen her reflection in the truth that was ice.

You would know the name of the ocean?

"When I asked whether you were the ocean, you answered yes," Elsa said. "But also no. And partially."

That I did.

"Then what is it? What are you?" She took a breath. "Who are you?"

Who I am…is who I was, and yet not, the figure said. She glanced out towards the sea, to the icy wastes of the north. The sea was there for my people and I in our hour of need. And when my own end came, I gave myself over to her.

"Was this by choice, or by demand?"

After a long silence, the figure said the answer is yes. She sighed, and the sound was like the dying breath of wind. Of joy and memory joining together to form sorrow. Of contentment and yearning both.

My name then was Moana, the figure said. Now, I am but the sea.

And with that she disappeared into the waves, leaving the Queen of Ice and Snow alone. Looking across an empty sea, to lands of darkness.

Once again, filling a chill within body and soul.

A/N

So when I watched the trailer for Frozen 2, seeing Elsa trying to cross the sea via ice for...reasons, I found myself reminded of Moana. The whole "I'm going to keep running to the sea before I finally get to set out on it." Looking at comments on the net, I could see that I wasn't the only one with this idea.

That said, this take here is something I'm beginning to doubt, because I've seen the suggestion that Elsa's stranded on an island and that she's trying to escape via her ice powers. That would actually make a lot more sense than this admittedly. Still, drabbled it up, so, there.