Frozen and all other Disney properties I may reference are the properties of The Walt Disney Company. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Note: Purely gratuitous Frozen fanfic.
Frozen is a fandom I've wanted to write for for some time. I regret that this, my first foray, is so trashy. Hopefully the quality and content of my writing will improve over time. I do not rule out the possibility of a rewrite in the future, although it is unlikely.
This work, I should mention, is a prequel of sorts to a larger and much more ambitious Frozen/Tangled/Dishonored work I plan to write one day. As such, several characters in this work will return for that one, if it ever gets written (I've finished drafts of various scenes, but honestly I haven't even thought out the course of the plot yet after over six months).
This is my second published work, on this site or elsewhere. As such, reviews, criticisms, suggestions, etc. are all appreciated. I am not afraid of criticism, so feel free to fire away.
Some of the ancillary details in this work are the products of my own imagination. If you have any questions about anything, ask in a review or send me a message, and I may get back to you.
I apologize if this bores anyone, or if my prose is unclear or otherwise tedious to wade through. Please let me know if that is the case.
Without further ado:
Long Live the Queen
Chapter One
A heavy rain beat a quick, grim tattoo against the roof of Baron Nordhagen's townhouse, and thunder crashed so loudly in the distance that he almost didn't hear the banging at his bedroom door.
"Your Excellency!" Three sharp knocks. "Your Excellency!"
Blearily, Nordhagen blinked his eyes open, trying to gather his senses after being roused from a deep and comfortable sleep. "What?" He called irritably, after taking a few moments to compose himself.
"A messenger to see you, Excellency! He-"
A booming peal of thunder drowned out the rest of the servant's sentence; the flash of lightning that preceded it, however, lit up Nordhagen's room for a brief moment, enough for him to make out on his clock that the hour was not yet three in the morning. Good God! He thought. What on Earth could have happened at this hour, for someone to rouse a poor messenger from bed to see me?
"Say again, Johann?" Nordhagen called, trying in vain to lift his head off his pillow and leave the warmth of his blankets. Try as he might, the comfort of sleep was still too soon removed, and all his attempts to rise from bed were foiled by the soothing, sluggish protests of his still-tired joints and drowsy mind. "I didn't hear you!"
"He comes from the harbor, sir! He brings a message from a Teuton diplomatic clipper! He says it's urgent!"
Nordhagen frowned, blinking his eyes open, his mind beginning to revive itself from its slumbering lethargy. "Teutony? Where in Teutony?"
"Aldenburg, sir!"
The frown on Nordhagen's forehead deepened. "And it was a…a Teuton ship, you say?"
"Yes, sir!"
Well, of course it was. The King wouldn't send the yacht back while he's still there. Still, what could be so important that it had to see me as soon as it arrived? "What does His Majesty want? Do you know what it's about?"
"No, sir! It's not from His Majesty!" Johann cried through the door. "It's from the Grand Duke of Aldenburg!"
With effort, Nordhagen heaved himself up in bed. The Grand Duke, he thought. That was odd. What would the Grand Duke have to say to me that he couldn't say to the King?
"Hold on a minute, Johann, I'm coming," Nordhagen rumbled, gingerly extracting himself from his covers and placing his feet on the carpet, moving them about until they found their way into his slippers. He rose, grabbing his robe from a chair by the bed and shrugging himself into it, before fumbling on the top of his nightstand until he found his lighter. Cocking it, he used it to light a candle, which he used, in turn, to light the oil lamp by his bed, before grabbing the candle and moving to open the door.
Outside, his young manservant was shivering in a nightshirt and -robe much like Nordhagen's and clutching his own dimly-lit candle, and suddenly Nordhagen felt a little guilty for keeping him waiting outside as he'd fought to get out of bed. He resolved to make it up to the man, somehow – perhaps a little extra in the next week's pay, for his trouble.
That could wait, however. In the meantime, there were more pressing, more odd matters to attend to. "Very well, Johann," Nordhagen said. "I'm here, I'm up. Show me to him."
The messenger stood in the hall, near the door, at the center of a slowly expanding puddle that formed from the rainwater dripping off of his thoroughly-soaked coat and hat. As he saw Nordhagen hurriedly descending the stairs, with Johann following, he doffed his hat and gave a short, hasty bow. "Your Excellency," he said quickly.
Nordhagen saw no point in drawing it out. "You have a message for me?"
"Two messages, sir." The messenger reached into his coat and retrieved two small parcels of paper bound with string, surprisingly dry given the pouring tempest outside. Nordhagen took them from his outstretched hand.
"I was told just one message," he said, squinting his eyes as he tried to read the words on the paper in the candlelight.
"One from the Grand Duke of Aldenburg, another from the minister there."
Nordhagen nodded and began to unwrap the parcel that came from the Grand Duke. "And these came – tonight? In the storm?" He asked, in some disbelief.
"She entered the harbor 'bout an hour ago, sir," the messenger replied, nodding. "Harbormaster said she was crazy to pull in in the middle of a storm as bad as this, but the skipper said he had an urgent diplomatic missive from His Royal Highness The Grand Duke himself, and that it had to get through to the government at once."
"You're certain this came from the Grand Duke? Not the King?"
"Aye, sir."
Nordhagen frowned. That didn't bode well. "Did the captain tell you what it was about?" He asked, finally unwrapping the parcel and extracting a thin envelope, uncrumpled due to the protective packaging of the parcel and sealed with an official-looking wax seal. On the front were words in Teuton, which he quickly and seamlessly translated in his mind – "To the Head of the Arendelian Government".
"Well – I reckon he told the harbormaster, sir. He spoke to him in Teuton. I didn't understand a word of it. Then the harbormaster took the letters, and told me to ride to the Lord President of the Council, quick as I could, as if my life depended on it."
Nordhagen stared at the man for a moment, then sighed when it was clear that nothing else would be forthcoming. His hands broke the seal of the envelope and extracted the letter inside. A sudden flash of lightning, followed by a roaring peal of thunder, so startled him that he almost dropped the letter, but he recovered in time. Unfolding the thin paper, he turned to the light of Johann's candle and read quickly, his eyes sweeping over the neatly-scrawled words with a statesman's practiced speed.
He read it once. Then another time, just to make sure.
To the Head of the Arendelian Government, it began,
We deeply regret to inform you that the Arendelian Royal Yacht HMS Eventyr did not arrive in Aldenburg as scheduled on 4 August. Instead, on 6 August, debris and three bodies washed up on the shore a few miles north of the port city of Siebethsburg, where the Eventyr was expected to dock. Among the debris was china inlaid with the golden crocus seal of Arendelle, presumably from the Eventyr's galley. Furthermore, one of the bodies was dressed in a uniform recognizable as that of an Arendelian Navy ensign.
At the time of Our writing it is now 10 August, and there has been no news of the Eventyr except for more debris, presumably from that vessel. From this, We must unhappily and with the greatest sorrow conclude that the HMS Eventyr was lost with all hands sometime between 1 August and 4 August, possibly in a severe storm that swept the North Sea around that time.
Needless to say, We have ordered the prevention, to the greatest extent, of the announcement and circulation of this unhappy determination in Aldenburg, until such time as it is officially announced by the Arendelian government.
May We, on behalf of the Grand Duchy, offer Our deepest condolences for Arendelle's loss. We shall pray for Their Majesties and their two daughters still on Earth. May God grant you, the Princesses, and all Arendelle solace and strength in this difficult time.
With Sympathy,
Paul the Second, by the Grace of God, Grand Duke of Aldenburg
When he was done, he replaced the letter inside the envelope, being careful not to bend or crumple the delicate paper. Both men watched him with curious concerned eyes, but otherwise kept their silence.
Wordlessly, Nordhagen unwrapped the second parcel and retrieved another envelope – this one from the resident Arendelian minister to Aldenburg, just as the messenger had said. The contents of his letter merely confirmed the account provided by the Grand Duke. When he was finished, he quietly replaced that letter too and stood in the darkened room for a minute, staring blankly at the floor before finally coming back to his senses.
With a mournful sigh, Nordhagen looked up at the messenger. "You're welcome to stay for a while, warm up and dry yourself off," he said, careful not to make eye contact with the man. The innocent curiosity on his face would have been too much, and he couldn't bear to answer him if the man began to ask questions. "Johann, show our guest to the living room, and strike up a fire for him. And give him a few crowns for his trouble."
Johann nodded, gesturing to the messenger to follow him, which he did with his boots squelching against the carpeted floor and leaving a trail of rainwater in his wake. The light in the hall faded, and darkness crept in.
"Johann?"
The dimness ceased for a moment as Johann stopped. Nordhagen turned to face him.
"When you're done," he said, "be so kind as to wake one of the servants, will you? The courier, preferably, but anyone who can ride fast in weather like this will do. When he's up, send him to me. I'll be in my study." Slowly, with the letter in his hand weighing him down like a cannonball, he began making his way up the stairs. "I'll need him to deliver some messages to the members of the State Council – and to the Royal Castle, come to think of it. There will be succession to be planned."