Foreword: "The Snow Queen" is much darker than its Disney adaptation. I felt inspired to reconcile that. I dedicate this story to all fans of "Frozen" and all "Frozen" writers. I hope you enjoy this just as much as I have enjoyed all of your fics. I do not own "Frozen" or any of its characters. That privilege belongs to Disney.
Let us begin this journey together. :)
-LCB
"Look! There it is, plain as day!"
The dock guard narrowed his eyes in the summer sun. He held his armored hand over his eyes to shield them from the rays.
Sure enough, it was exactly as his fellow guard said. The white sails of the approaching ship slowly slunk their way through the thick morning mist of the Royal Harbor. Still, no amount of fog could conceal the seal emblazoned on the fore royal.
The seal of the nation of France.
The moment they had been keeping watch for had arrived.
The guard leapt into action, grabbing for his silver hunting horn and turning to look behind. He lifted it to his lips and pointed it but his breath was stopped short of the mightly blow he'd intended.
"Why is no one manning the post on the Inner Wall?" he asked incredulously.
The first guard turned to look as well, grunting in exasperation.
"Is he napping again?! We need to alert the King!"
The second guard breathed rapidly, looking left to right, craning his neck as if to spot some semblance of a shape within the post. Still, there was no one inside.
The guard knew what must be done.
"Man the post! I'll take the message to the King myself."
"Oy! The regulations clearly state two men must be posted upon each wall at all times!"
"Yes, well, there's no one on the Inner Wall!"
The guard stowed his horn on his belt and took off toward the nearby staircase leading down.
"Regulations also say anyone not reporting incoming vessels will be found derelict of duty!" He shouted back, not waiting for a respsonse.
The guard took the stairs as a sprint, his armored feet pounding the stone steps with loud clangs. The salty air shot in and out through his mouth and nose. It would be a bit of a run to the Throne Room.
His pace did not slacken. He reached the floor of the bridge connecting the two walls, a bridge he knew would split and rise apart once the ship drew close enough.
"Raise the bridge! A ship is coming!" He hollered at the top of his lungs to any posts within earshot. He kept running without knowing if anyone heard him.
The guard catapulted himself through the massive but open entrance gate onto the main street of the Kingdom Market. Gasps and shouts rang out one after another as he met resistance with the teeming masses conducting the morning's trade.
"Move! Move! Royal business coming through! Make way!"
He pushed and shoved his way through. His armor, while cumbersome, did make for easier passage through far more lightly clothed civilians.
Until a group in front of him rapidly threw themselves away from his oncoming rush, revealing a very wide, very stationary chicken cart.
The guard had no time to react. He plowed right into it. The next seconds saw feathers flying as he pitched forward, barreling over the the frantic birds and landing with a crash on the other side of the cart.
Getting up and shaking the stars from his eyes, the guard ran onward. He saw the main stairs leading up to the Royal Courtyard.
A staircase boasting 372 steps. The guard blew out a ragged breath and hopped the first few.
The guards standing in front of the main doors of the Royal Palace were wrestled from their quiet conversation by a loud crashing noise ahead. All four turned to see the outer courtyard doors burst open with a single guard charging through, strangely with his helmet gone.
One of the group perked up and ran forward a few steps, recognizing his comrade-in-arms.
"Malleson! What are you doing here?! Shouldn't you be on the Outer Wall?" He called out.
Malleson, huffing and puffing, his pounding gait now becoming an exhausted jog, shook his sweat-stricken head as he ran toward them.
"Ship...coming...need to...alert the King!"
The guard at the door set his mouth in a thin line, shaking his head. This wasn't how protocol was run, which meant somewthing went wrong. They needed to get on top of this right away.
"Open the gate! Let him through!"
The other three nodded, opening the doors just in time for Malleson to plod through. The commanding door guard motioned for one of the others to go with him following behind Malleson. He needed to see this for himself.
Malleson's clanging steps were muffled by the long and wide crimson carpet he was now running across, the carpet that led to the Throne. Malleson ran past, sandwiched by rows of large, diamond shaped windows inlaid with blood-red stained glass. As the morning light shone through, the windows painted the grey stone walls of the entire throne room in a passionate, slightly malevolent glow.
King Haytham Westergaard was startled where he sat, looking up from a mountain of papers, reports his scouts had brought him for the royal morning briefing. He let the papers scatter off his red-robed lap as he stood from his jagged throne, carved out of deep crimson dragonstone.
"Your Majesty! Please! I have urgent news!" Malleson called out, drawing near to the Throne.
King Westergaard's line of half a dozen Throne Guards perked up, moving as one to intercept the manic guard, holding their ornate golden axes higher in combat formation. The king shot out a hand and bellowed.
"Stop! Let him speak his peace!"
On command, the Throne Guards stopped, parting a hole in their line for Malleson to pass through. The dock guard fell to a knee, panting heavily but more than ready to deliver the message.
"My Lord...urgent news...you must hear."
"Speak, good man!" King Westergaard urged, drawing closer to the guard until they stood mere steps away. "Tell me what you have come all this way to divulge."
Malleson shot his head up and wiped a hand over his eyes to stop the sweat from burning them.
"My Liege...Prince Hans...he has returned."
