Greetings, fellow Frozenites! Gee, what a movie Frozen was. It has been quite some time since I've seen a Disney movie so magical - and I love Disney! So much did I love Frozen that I couldn't resist writing about it. In fact, I couldn't help but write the most ambitious storyline that I could think of. This is a continuation of the movie, with this chapter serving as a prologue of sorts. I will do my best to develop the existing characters, add new ones, and overall just continue the adventures of the Frozen cast. I would, of course, love to hear your feedback - good and bad, so long as it is reasonable - as I write to share. Most of all, however, enjoy this adventure with me as we return to the gorgeous kingdom of Arendelle and all the magic of Frozen!

For reference, this story will have romance, violence, and the best character development I can manage. There will be some new characters, some of which will be very important to the story. I will do my best to honor the characters that this movie has blessed us with, but I do not, in any way, own Frozen or its cast. There, I said it, and I won't bother saying it again. Now, with my babbling out of the way, enjoy this first chapter of The Ice God!

Chapter 1 - Uller

King Sigurd wanted to explode. The physician had been hunched over his daughter for over an hour, examining his notes and occasionally checking her temperature. Sigurd knew what was happening; the doctor was out of ideas. He was stalling, trying to find one last ounce of hope to bring back to the king and queen of Arendelle. Perhaps it was true determination to save the princess; perhaps it was simply fear of failing royalty. At this point, Sigurd didn't care. The only reason he hadn't stopped the man half an hour ago was the desperate hope in his wife's eyes.

Queen Helga was wrapped about his arm, squeezing it occasionally. She hadn't looked away from the princess's crib since the physician arrived. To remove him now would be to leave a lasting shred of doubt in her heart. She would forever wonder if, had he been allowed to stay for one more minute, perhaps their little Elsa could have been saved. So the king waited.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, the doctor sighed and packed his things. As he stood and turned to face them, Sigurd noticed how the bushy white mustache, small spectacles, and bags under his eyes combined to make him look so very old. He scolded himself for thinking of the royal physician so cynically; the man had spent more time with Elsa than not these past few days. The last two nights had been sleepless for all three of them.

"Is there anything to be done?" Helga asked. She had asked the question so many times now, but Sigurd could not blame her for trying again.

"Your daughter's fever only increases," the doctor replied. "For all my experience, I am powerless to stop it. She does not have much time left."

Even expecting the answer, the queen buried her face into Sigurd's shoulder. He felt her sob against it. Even his eyes grew moist, but he refused to be weak for his wife in her time of agony.

Conceal it. Don't feel it. Don't let it show.

A motto that had kept the rulers of Arendelle strong. For all the tragedy the past weeks had carried, he would not let that tradition fade now.

"I will leave you alone, for the time that is left." The physician walked toward the doorway. Sigurd placed his free hand on the man's shoulder as he passed them.

"Thank you. For doing as best you could."

The physician looked up at him. There was grief in his eyes. "Do not thank me, my lord. I only wish that I could have done more."

Sigurd let him go without another word. The guards followed, leaving the royal family alone in Elsa's room. Helga moved first, coming to the princess's crib with wet eyes. Elsa was still so small, born not two months ago, yet her face was reddened with fever. She slept fitfully in the blankets in which they had wrapped her. Sigurd felt that it could only be making her fever worse, but she had shivered so without them…

Helga scooped up their chestnut-haired baby ever so gently. He saw how perfectly his wife cradled her, how loving her expression was, and it filled him with agony.

What a mother she could be…

Helga sniffed, allowing a faint smile to come to her as she gazed down at Elsa. "Oh, Sigurd… she's so beautiful…"

He came to her side, pulling her close as they stood with their daughter. "I know," he said, the faintest tremor in his voice. "I know."

That was when he heard it. At the time, he did not know how he would come to dread that sound: the slow whine of forming frost. It was coming from behind the balcony doors on the other end of Elsa's room.

The king and queen stared in shock at the ice that continued to spread from the doorway in little frozen spindles. Helga clutched Elsa closer to her as the temperature of the room dropped.

"Is that… ice? But it's August!"

Her voice was filled with fear, not for herself, but for Elsa. Sigurd narrowed his eyes; he smelled magic.

"Stay back," he said, drawing a rapier from the decorative rack on the wall. He tried to see through the panes of glass mounted on the doors, but frost had covered them completely. Cold emanated from them in waves. Sigurd readied himself to strike at whatever sorcerer dared to attack his family.

Then he heard a knock. It was was muffled through the ice outside, but unmistakable - a curt, triple thudding on the doors. He cocked his head in confusion, looking back at Helga. She appeared equally bemused, but by the way she held Elsa, she felt anything but safe. Sigurd turned back to the doors, braced himself, and swung them wide.

In their place stood a man. He was tall and fair-skinned, with a gray mustache and beard that were coated in a fine layer of frost. He was covered from neck to toe in well-sewn furs, with a wolf pelt draped across his shoulders. Cold air absolutely flowed into the room, causing Sigurd's hair to stand on end.

The king held his sword to the new arrival's nose. "Who are you? And how dare you intrude on the house of Arendelle?" he demanded.

The man looked down upon the rapier as if the king were holding a stick. "My name is Uller, Master of the Mountains. You'll find that sword quite unnecessary."

Uller moved into the room without invitation, unfastening his cloak and draping it about his arm. Sigurd, however, could not bring himself to strike; he recognized that name.

"Uller? The god?"

The god smirked. "Ah! So you know of the old gods! I'm impressed. We haven't been very popular for the last century or two."

Sigurd did not drop his stance. "Why are you here?"

"Because I, along with the rest of my brethren, am running out of time. I wish to end this era on a high note."

Sigurd narrowed his eyes. "I am sorry to be a bad host, but my daughter is ill, and my wife and I would like to be alone with her."

"Ah! But King Sigurd, that is precisely the reason I have come."

Now he lowered the sword. "What do you mean?"

Uller smiled, an expression surprisingly warm for one rimmed by ice. "I can save your daughter."

Sigurd tightened his grip on the rapier. He couldn't be serious. Now? A peddler of cheap tricks, come at this horrible time for a family that had existed for so brief a time?

"How dare you-"

"How?"

The king stopped dead in his tracks at the sound of his wife's voice. Helga had stepped forward. She no longer gazed upon Uller with fear or suspicion. "How can you save her?"

The frozen god looked at Helga sympathetically before motioning for her to come forward. For the moment, Sigurd chose not to speak; instead he moved to his wife's side as she, somewhat hesitantly, came forward and presented Elsa. Uller did not take the princess into his hands - a good thing, as Sigurd would have chopped them off - but he did look at her closely, discerningly, as if he himself were the royal physician.

"Your daughter is indeed very ill, but it is her fever, not the illness, that is killing her."

Sigurd looked at Helga, saw the pain in her eyes.

You had better be telling the truth.

"My power can stop it, and make it so that no sickness can touch her," Uller continued. "She will be healthy and beautiful all her life, as she might have been before." He extended his hand over the child. The air above her shimmered, as if tiny crystals of ice were floating down to her. To Sigurd's amazement, the flushing of Elsa's face paled, her face relaxed, but most noticeably of all, her hair faded until it was nearly white. By the time Uller removed his hand, she looked as if she were simply napping, cozily snuggled in her mother's arms.

And then, it was gone. The baby screwed her eyes tight, and her hair faded to brown again. "But," Uller added, his expression becoming somber, "my powers are not without cost-"

"Do it." Once again, attention fell to Helga. She glanced at Sigurd, but it was clear to him that she was not seeking his approval. "My daughter is dying. We will do anything you ask."

Uller looked appraisingly upon her before nodding resolutely. Tentatively, as if he were trying to pose an acorn on its point, he touched Elsa on her brow. Soft blue light splayed out across her face like a snowflake, then faded as if it were receding into her flesh. Once again her hair turned platinum, and her body calmed.

Neither the king nor the queen could take their eyes off of her. She was indeed the most beautiful thing they had ever seen. King Sigurd shed a single tear of relief.

The sound of heavy footsteps broke them from their trance. Uller was heading for the balcony. Once again fastened around his shoulders, the wolf pelt made an imposing silhouette in the summer moonlight.

"Lord Uller!" Sigurd called back to him. "You said your powers had a price! What is it? What must we do?"

The ice god paused, turning back to them. He suddenly looked much older, as if the magic he had used was all he had left.