For Queen and Kingdom

by englishwhaler

Author's Note: Hello everyone! This is my first official foray into the world of fan fiction so please bear with me if I stumble my way around or fall down completely in the course of this. I'm relatively new to this fandom but fell in love with it after watching the movie and reading so many terrific works from other fans. I was floored by the sheer emotional impact such works had and would like to thank Kurrent ("Feel Don't Conceal"), FrozenFractals ("Frozen Fractals"), and JessicaX ("Min Søster Bursdagskake") for inspiring me to give it a go for myself.

I'm drawing additional inspiration from Naomi Novik's absolutely terrific Temeraire series (which if you haven't read, and you like dragons and/or 19th Century warfare, you totally should)and will (most likely) be exploring matters related to politics and military stuff. If that's not your cup of tea, totally understand and no hard feelings. I'm really interested in seeing how Elsa's powers, her relationship with Anna, and her responsibilities as monarch would play out if placed in a slightly less Disney setting. As such, this story takes place somewhere between 1795-1815.

I welcome any and all constructive feedback and criticism and would really appreciate any that you might give me as I am always looking to learn and grow. Thanks!

Disclaimer: As always, Frozen and all associated copyrights and trademarks belong to The Walt Disney Company. This work is rated M as it may include graphic depictions of violence and sex and other material (including, but not limited to, Elsanna) that some may find uncomfortable. I will do my best to provide warnings within each chapter as we go forward but if any of the above does not sit well with you please feel free to walk away. Reading should be fun, so don't continue reading this if you find that it isn't.

Prologue

Darkness.

A dull ache reverberated throughout her skull and she tried to think, to summon up some thought, any thought. Her mind swam in shadows and her head felt heavy, so very heavy. Her eyes burned and her mouth tasted like copper. She tried to swallow, tried to breathe, but a mixture of gunk and hot air choked her and she gagged, coughing.

Abdominal muscles twisted and ached as her chest was wracked by each convulsion. Panic rose within her and her body began to scream, air, air, air! The dullness within her head began to fade and she felt as if she were being pulled upward, her body suddenly weightless, but with one last violent heave of her chest, the blockage was cleared and she drew in a deep rasping breath.

The air was hot and thick and it burned her lungs, making her cough again, but, slowly, the air became less caustic and her lungs filled. For the first time her head hurt less and she discovered that she was lying on her back, head twisted to one side and arms draped awkwardly across her body The surface beneath her felt solid but coarse; it bit into her back at several points and she felt as if was bobbing up and down. It shook from time to time with terrible force and jostled her body, causing pain to flare from her head to her toes.

As her mind drifted, torn between pain and unconsciousness, she realized that the darkness over her eyes had lifted. She could see shapes now and they were slowly resolving into objects that she could understand. Strands of white blond hair fell in front of her eyes and she tried to look past them, to see where she was.

Dark smoke swirled around her, billowing high into the air, but she was able to glimpse through its haze the trunk of a tree and its many branches. She looked again, confused as to why the branches were nearly completely straight and downward slanting. No, it wasn't a tree, the trunk was far too smooth and the branches weren't branches but rope. A gust of wind parted the smoke and she saw beyond the column of wood a great swath of fabric stained black and peppered with holes. She finally understood: it was a mast and a sail; she was on a ship!

She followed the mast down to the deck and there she saw people dressed in uniforms scurrying about. Some held muskets, others held buckets or round shot or rope, and still more held nothing at all. She saw bodies, too, which lay silently still, much like her own. She coughed. No, she wasn't like them, she was still here, she was still alive. She tried to move, she wanted to move, to prove to herself that she wasn't lifeless. But her body rebelled against the effort, hot fire pouring through her veins, and she would have cried out if her vocal cords hadn't been paralyzed by shock.

What was wrong with her? Why couldn't she move? She looked down at herself, half in an attempt to distract herself from the pain, half to assess her physical state. Her legs were stretched across the deck with her knees slightly bent. On her feet were thick black leather boots that rode up all the way to right below her knee and had tucked into them what she guessed was once a white pair of breeches. The pants were now dirtied and torn in several places and she thought absentmindedly that she'd never be able to wear them again and was sad that they were spoiled.

A white undershirt was tucked into the top of her breeches and covered by a similarly white vest with plain-faced gold buttons. Covering the vest was a steely blue cotton jacket whose front and sleeves were embroidered with gold thread and flanked with gold buttons bearing the crocus flower of...of…someplace she couldn't remember.

Draped across her arms and bunched up against her lower back was a fur-lined cloak dyed a rich dark blue. The cape was incredibly thick, meant to ward off the cold, but now it made her feel nauseatingly warm and she felt nearly suffocated in its heat. She mustered her strength to flip it over her with a movement of her left arm, causing something to rattle when she did. Intrigued, she looked down past her left leg and saw, attached to a black leather belt with a golden buckle that rested against her hips, a long gold-encrusted scabbard made of dark wood. Resting at the top of the scabbard was the guard and grip of a sabre.

Since when did she wear a sword, let alone pants? Since when did she even know how to use a sword? Her mind raced and she felt a stab of pain in her abdomen that made her torso shoot toward her knees. The pain continued and she saw now that the white vest had been punctured and many of its gold buttons torn off by a huge jagged piece of wood. For a moment she didn't understand, uncertain as to why the wood was so close to her and why it looked like it was stuck inside of her. Then she noticed that the vest was no longer white but red, and the blotch of color was spreading away from the giant splinter.

She touched the vest. It was wet and her fingers came away sticky. It was blood, her blood. The splinter was inside of her. She would have gasped if the pain at the realization hadn't overtaken her. She writhed on the deck, suddenly fully aware and overcome by the shock and horror of her state. Movement in the corner of her eye drew her attention and a tall man with broad shoulders clad in white trousers and a dark blue waistcoat with golden epaulettes rushed over to her. His long blond hair was tied back in a ponytail and blood trickled down his face from a long gash on his forehead.

The man's eyes were wide and frantic but resolved. He said something but she couldn't hear him over the low roar of a winter storm in her ears. He repeated his words and she could almost read his lips. He said them a third time and she understood that he was saying Your Grace. That was silly of him. She wasn't graceful, not in this state. Freya, she had a bloody spike stuck into her gut, how could he think she was anything to do with grace!

The man knelt beside her, his large hands hovering over her stomach, shaking as he held them there. He turned his head and bellowed something. He kept bellowing until a crowd dressed in similar blue and white uniforms had gathered around her. Her breaths were coming quickly now and she felt as if her heart would suddenly stop from its frantic pace. The vest was completely red and her chest and legs felt sticky and cold. She was very tired.

An urgency unlike one she had ever felt before filled her. She couldn't go, not yet. Where was...where was…but she couldn't remember who. The name was lodged in the back of her memory but it was slipping from her mind- no! – she couldn't let it go, it was important, she knew it was important! Please, she pleaded, please come back! But she felt it slip further and further away, becoming smaller and smaller until it she couldn't feel it anymore. It was gone, and she felt nothing. She closed her eyes, unable to fight the exhaustion anymore, and she felt a strong pair of hands against her back and under her legs as she was lifted up. Her vision blurred and darkness took her.