AUTHOR'S NOTE:
This is an unofficial sequel to Frozen. This fan fiction considers OUAT to be non-canon.
This fan fiction will also be constantly revised and edited throughout its creation. I make mistakes.
Included in this story are also prompts to listen to certain pieces of music that I think enhances the story.
Thanks to michellcadenkylover of Deviantart for the cover. Please don't sue me.
Special thanks to Walt Disney Studios for corrupting me with this movie. You have ruined my life. Thanks a lot, guys.
Jigsaw13327
"Don't get too close
It's dark inside
It's where my demons hide
It's where my demons hide."
Imagine Dragons
"This is gospel, for the fallen ones
Locked away in permanent slumber
Assembling their philosophies
From pieces of broken memories."
Panic! At the Disco
"Something wicked this way comes."
Macbeth, Act IV, Scene I
Prologue:
Creator of Nightmares
In between the planes of all existence, on a castle silently hovering in the midst of all the colors, evil was brewing. In the tallest tower of the aforementioned castle worked a young man. No one knew his name, and most people believed him to be a legend, a fairy-tale used to frighten children as they were tucked in for the night, a figure cursed and spat upon by men. The Sorcerer of Arat, as he was known, did not mind such blatant accusations. In fact, he smiled every time he knew he would give nightmares to the world. He had even christened himself the Creator of Nightmares.
His tower where he worked was not so much a laboratory than it was a torture chamber. Insidious devices with sharp spikes and dried blood littered the room nonchalantly. The cramped, unkempt room was dominated by a large, steel table that could be used for many, many purposes. Right now, it was cluttered with books and papers, all written in languages long forgotten.
The Sorcerer of Arat, Creator of Nightmares, sat at this table, hands hurriedly fumbling with the papers. He felt that he was close to his goal, one that had been broiling on the backburner for ten years. He would be even closer, if he could just remember where he had placed that paper. In his excited haste, he knocked over an inkwell. It tumbled to the floor and shattered, black ink spattering the dusty stone tiles. He cursed himself for his clumsiness, and whispered an incantation under his breath.
The inkwell and spilled ink arose. In mid-air, the inkwell amended itself, and the ink filled it. In the space of a few seconds, the inkwell was resting once more on the table, as though the Sorcerer had never knocked it over. After a few more seconds, the Sorcerer found the paper, and brought it to eye level. It only took him less than a minute to read the entire paper. He thrust the paper into the folds of his robes, along with a journal of notes and a book of incantations. Tonight, and the following nights, would become his greatest triumph. Resting back on his heels, he whispered another quiet incantation, and with the blink of an eye and a sudden wind, he vanished from his castle.
A single piece of paper fluttered off of the table and onto the floor. Scrawled across it in spiky handwriting were these words:
Dear King Nuri of Arat,
You are Royally Invited to the Marriage of Princess Anna of Arendelle and Kristoff Bjorgman
Arendelle Castle Courtyard, October 30th, Noonday
Reception and Refreshments Afterwards
Queen Elsa of Arendelle Presiding as Mistress of Ceremonies