Ladies and gentlemen, it is finally here!

The last installment of my Frozen series, the story I have been building up since Frozen IV (one might consider this a separate trilogy then my first one, given that it is more tied together). I can't believe this is it. This will defiantly be the last one, and I am going to miss writing this. With everything I plan on doing here, it makes me wish I could have spread out this same style to my previous stories. I've learned a lot about writing on this site since my first story, so I believe this to be my strongest story yet, and certainly the longest, being split into two parts and all.

Prepare for laughs, cries, deaths (yeas, the "D" word), action, and world-building!

And so, without further ado...

Frozen VI:

The Legend of the Snow Queen

Part I:

Northbound


Chapter 1:

Skies are a Changing


The mountains, standing several hundred miles north of the northern most borders of any kingdom of man, were steep, jagged, and treacherous. The harsh land at their feet was just as intolerable: a rocky, uneven land with no water or shelter, occupied only by the tough, sprawling pines that were lucky to find root in the brutal soil. Storms frequented this area often, making it that much more intolerable. These horrid conditions have made this land impenetrable for travel, let alone settling, and it stretched on for many miles in width, while lengthwise it was almost a thousand miles. It was these conditions that made this area a barrier, a natural wall, separating two very different worlds.

The clouds were thick and grey and hung low over the horrid plains. A shape could bee seen flying through them; a large, winged form. Briefly flying low below the clouds, a great red dragon could be seen, a lone figure on its back just where the neck meets the rest of the body. The dragon flew on, occasionally flapping its bat-like wings to keep itself airborne. He glided through the sky, rapidly approaching the mountain range. Before reaching the rock face, he flapped harder, raising it up on an incline, lifting himself over the mountains. After clearing the higher peaks, it flew onward, flying over the vast steep terrain at the top of the range. No single mountain stood apart; all of them were connected, creating a sort of plateau of smaller, similar sized peaks. It flew on for miles and miles, crossing a vast, open glacial field, where a long glacier slowly pushed through the range, carving out an ever increasing canyon over the last thousand years. The occasional grinding of the massive, moving mass of ice could be heard, echoing through the mountain range and up into the surrounding air.

The beast, carrying his passenger, glided along the length of the glacier until it reached it's endpoint; a steep, near vertical drop in elevation; a continuous cliff leading down to more comfortable altitudes. Below them now was a vast, open and hilly grassland, which stretched out across until it met a wide canal of sea water, then continued on the other side. The glacier itself melted into running water at this point, sending water over the cliff face in a series of waterfalls. The water met at the bottom, forming a series of streams and wetlands until it converged into two clear rivers, both ending shortly after a few miles once it met the canal.

The dragon flew over the cliff face and dove down a few hundred feet, but it didn't go all the way down. Instead it glided up into a horizontal flight pattern, flying parallel to a cliff face. Finally, now at the end of its over thousand mile journey, it slowed its descent, approaching a wide cave in the cliff face about halfway between the top and bottom of the cliff. The ground of the cave extended beyond the tall ceiling, providing a landing platform for the beast. It flapped few times, then landed.

It's passenger, Klydrun, was quick to jump off, his scabbard-less sword in hand, his falcon friend on his shoulder.

"The Master is eager to see you" said the Dragon, its voice reverberating from its chest. "I go now to oversee his servants' progress" it said begrudgingly as it took of yet again.

Klydrun stared back into the dark cave, his falcon on his shoulder. Feeling his sword in hand, he walked into it. The light faded almost immediately upon entering, though it was not a impediment to him; in fact, it was comforting to him. He hated light, preferring to work hidden in the shadows, away from sight and noise of the living world around him. He walked on for a while, the massive hall narrowing, splitting up into separate caverns and tunnels as he walked on. He knew these halls well, walking down the tunnels he knew led to the Master's cavern.

Now he came to a large wooden door, two statues of hideous, dragon-like beasts seemingly guarding the entrance. Klydrun huffed; he was less then presentable, cuffs still on his hands and feet, only a raggedy shirt and pants covering him, and his sword naked outside its scabbard; all reminders of his humiliating failure in Arendelle. His prey escaped, he himself imprisoned, needing outside help to escape. Never before had he faced such humiliation in the human world.

The doors suddenly opened on their own before he could mentally prepare himself though. Not hesitating, he entered.

Torches aligned along the walls lit the room. A few columns lined what appeared to be a cave version of a throne room. The cave was stuffy, musty, and hot. How anyone could live here was beyond that of most people, but this didn't bother the elf. He walked on down the quiet hall. To his side, he could see trolls moving about, cleaning the floor and tending some of fire crystals held up on pedestals here and there. The trolls themselves were quiet, keeping to themselves, a orange tint in their eyes. One of the trolls standing in the corner, the moderator of the others, looked relaxed, eyeing the approaching elf.

Finally, Klydrun stood before the darkened throne. To the casual observer, only the faint outlines of both the stone chair and the person sitting in it could be seen, his face and shape obscured by darkness. Immediately, Klydrun bowed, placing his sword at his side on the ground.

"Master" he said. "I have come."

At first, silence. Then a surprisingly charismatic voice rang out. "Ah, my prized student" said the deep, but not too frightening voice. "What on earth happened to you?" He took particular notice of Klydrun's naked sword.

Klydrun was hesitant to answer, keeping his head low. "I, ran into trouble in Arendelle" he answered with a sour tone.

The Master remained silent for a moment. "Arendelle?" he said, not entirely surprised. "The home of the Snow Queen? A surprising choice of destination for a man like yourself, no?"

"I had no choice; my prey hid there."

"Mhmm, I take it this particular quarry got away?" Klydrun nodded, his eyebrows furrowed in rage. "I take it she had something to do with it?"

Klydrun now looked up. "It is she who brought me to my knees, Master" he said, an angered edge in his voice.

Through the darkness, the Master's arm, enwrapped in ragged clothing of some sort, extended up and out, then made a rising motion with his hand, signaling Klydrun to rise. Klydrun did so almost immediately, rising from his bowing form, standing fully erect now. "You have slain many such gifted individuals in your time. Tell me, what made her so special?" the Master asked much like a teacher asking his student for the answer which he himself already knew.

Klydrun, not found of reliving the humiliating memory, spoke. he spoke not in defeat or humility before his Master, but rather in a rough, angered tone. "She was, quick. Her magic, it was like she didn't have to give it any thought. It was like it worked for her, like it knew my next move... I, didn't have a chance" he begrudgingly admitted.

"Yes... yes" said the Master. He then waved his hand. A small glass orb, previously resting on the tip of his right armrest of his stone chair, floated in the air and moved towards Klydrun, glowing blue. As it floated in front of him, he could see Elsa, standing in attendance at some unknown event, a look of content and calm on her face. "Indeed she has shown to be quiet the adversary; beautiful, and powerful... Dangerous, and cold" he said once again with no surprise in his voice. "A powerful anomaly, far removed from any other such gifted humans. You are right your observation that her power acts on its own accord at times, almost like a separate entity."

Klydrun stared at the image, imagining all sorts of horrible injuries to bestow upon her. "So what do we do about her?"

"Do about it?" asked the Master. "Don't tell me you still have faith in that prophecy..." The master leaned forward, though still unseen in the darkness. "You are truly my most talented student Klydrun; strong, quick, ruthless. It is this reason I give you the freedom you desire. But you are very superstitious my friend." At that, the crystal before Klydrun flickered with images of past events, beginning with a sinking Arendellian ship, then on to the death of Jon Lindstrom, his wife and son by his lifeless body.

"Have you forgotten the many measures I have taken to cheat fate?" More images came to the globe as he continued to speak; images of Hans using Elsa to free Gregor, and again poisoning her with the dark mirror.

"It is this reason that prophecies are never written in stone my friend. I like to think of them as warnings; warnings for which precautions can be taken." Again more images came to, with Lars manipulating Elsa's father and later his use of Princess Kyra to overthrow her brother's kingdom.

"The actions I have put into play have altered the predictions; manipulating events, changing upbringings and outcomes, all resulting in where we are now."

"I already know all this" said Klydrun annoyed, speaking with that seemingly permanent cross tone in his harsh voice, unfazed by the images he had witnessed. Then the globe ceased glowing, returning to its clear form and floated back to the Master's right armrest. "But what progress can be seen by these actions? Where are we now?"

At this, the globe on the Master's left armrest rose and floated down, glowing green. In this globe, images of destruction and chaos could be seen. Images of giant trolls tearing apart homes, dragons laying waste to series. Throughout the world, men, women, and children, all involved in stealing, vandalizing, destruction and arson. It was a world gone mad; no order, no peace, no sanctuary, just chaos. Then on the last passing image, the Arendelle castle lay in ruins, and a beaten, broken Elsa, dead at it's base. Suddenly, the globe dimmed, then floated back it its proper place at the Master's left.

"We are now at the point of no return my friend. When I am done, all I have been preparing for, for all my life, will now come to pass. Believe me when I say this woman bears no threat to my plans," he said as the images in the orb faded, returning to it's glowing green aurora. "This world, and hers, will soon fall into chaos; the natural order."

Klydrun nodded, though not convinced. "And what of the Northern Alliance?"

"The Alliance will pose no threat to us. They have merely a decade of planning on their side since the prophecy was first foretold; I have had over a millennia. They, along with the world, created in the image of goodness and light, will burn!"


(10 months later)

It was four years now. For four years, Lars Brawnstone has rotted in his cell, watching the days go by endlessly as he lived out his life sentence. His brown facial hair now reached the bottom of his neck, tangled and dirty from lack of both grooming and bathing. His clothes, the very same he wore when thrown in here, were now worn and ragged, and reeked of a foul odor. He was allowed no change of clothes, no time outside the cell just to stretch his legs, not even books to read; only the occasional companion of the bored guard or the temporary inmate. King Gideon saw to it that this man, the man who held his sister captive, the man who experimented with her in order to make her a weapon, would suffer what he made her suffer for sixteen years, the only difference being that his mind was free, while hers wasn't.

He spent much of his time sitting in the middle of his cell, trying to find peace of mind by meditation in a technique he learned from the Orient. He remained like this for hours at a time, lost in the escape of his own mind.

On this night, however, something broke his concentration. A flicker of light shone through his bared window and onto the floor of his stone cell. It must have been one in the morning by his guess, far past the time most were asleep, minus the nightshift of guards. Desperate for something different from his mundane existence, he darted to the window.

Despite being imprisoned in this small cell for almost half a decade, . He got to the barred window, gripping the iron bars as he shoved his face through the bar, looking outside. There was nothing on the ground, but looking up was another matter entirely.

The sky was awake with the Aurora Borealis, the Northern Lights. He knew much about the lights, their true origin and their source, but he never thought to appreciate the delicate beauty until now, now that he had little in regards to comforts. It was finding splendor like this that made him feel soft. Oh the things he would do to get out of that cell.

But then something knocked him from his thoughts. Their was an inconsistency in the lights above. The normal flickering would occasionally cease, seemingly shooting south in sudden, erratic bursts, as if reaching to the south. Then, a sudden, single golden wave shot from north to south, like the ripples of a rock thrown in a river of color. He then saw something else. It was faint, but clearly visible to those looking hard enough: What appeared to be silent lighting, numerous in fractals and consistent as pouring water, shot out, again from north to south.

"About time" said Lars to himself as he looked up at the lights, which have now returned to normal, himself probably the only one who took notice, something he would keep to himself. He backed away from the window, then looked to his wall. The words he wrote in the stone when he first arrived still remained, the words of the Troll Prophecy:

"In the homeland of the Northern Folk,

A Vile One will rise, a relic of the ancient times.

With the union of the Lights he will strike,

seeking to wipe the good and the innocent from all kind.

But one will rise in a time of forgotten magic,

a Queen, born with the power the Winter element.

A gift from the Almighty, passed through the Aurora,

dangerous and cold, but beautiful, kind, and benevolent.

When the Lights meet before her twenty-ninth year,

she will vanquish the Vile One and his allies.

Those she holds dear should however be warned,

for the price of her love and friendship is high."

Lars then nodded slightly, smiling at the words he carved into the wall. "Soon" he said, "Soon you will have come to me, Elsa of Arendelle."


The prophecy had changed slightly since I first wrote it back in Frozen IV, so if it looks different to you, that's because it has.

I promise I will get these chapters out as fast as I can, and the only thing stopping me from completing this would be the apocalypse... that or I end up getting eaten by some wild animal... neither of which I plan on happening soon.

Also, the Wesley poll is still up on my profile page. You will have up until about chapter 7 (give or take) until that decision becomes relevant, so make your vote by then.

Now then, on to the next chapter!

-Batman