For the past three weeks, Anna had been resisting many urges. The urge to rip her hair out. The urge to rip other peoples hair out. After the first couple weird looks, she stopped talking to Joan. And right now, she was resisting the urge to run into Kristoffs room and curl up in his arms.

But right now, there was work to be done. The table of men in front of her bickered, and it seems that there were holds barred. Names, accusations, and snappy remarks flew like arrows. She resisting yet another urge: to grab one of the axes hanging from the walls and start hacking until they all shut up or left. But she had duties to deal with, now that she was the ruler.

Oh Elsa. She thought. Why did you leave me with all this crap to deal with?

The Duke of Weselton, who had decided to make himself part of these meetings for whatever reason, was foremost at the shouting match.

"We demand compensation for the time we have lost trapped on this godforsaken island!" He shouted, standing on a chair in order to be seen by the rest of the group. Many of the foreign dignitaries agreed, nodding their heads.

Kai, who had become a great help in this political maelstrom, responded calmly. "Please, think of our situation. We didn't attempt to keep you hostage; it was an... unforeseen consequence. We have used up most of our resources keeping our own citizens safe and stable; we have had to draw on crops from the entire country to sustain our guests and the large amount of our populace that was here for the coronation. We cannot afford, at this time, to repay you for your losses. But rest assured, we will repay you when we have the ability to."

Most of the people at the meeting leaned back, displeased but understanding. The Duke, however, grumbled under his breath. "When are we going to be able to leave, Your Majesty? " He said with a sneer, addressing Anna. "Any news on your 'runaway Queen?'"

Anna sighed, dreading having to speak in front of these... men. But he had addressed the question to her, so she had no choice but to answer it. God, she hated the dance she had to do in order to survive the political war field.

She was terrible at dancing.

"The search parties we have sent out have no seen no sign of Her Majesty. We are afraid that if she does not want to be found, she will not be found." Anna tried to hide the twinge of pain that coursed through her at that - Oh, Elsa - and rushed through the rest of her reply. "Luckily, the warm waters from the south are moving through this area, and my experts assure me that the ice will be gone within the week." Already, the ice was thinning and cracking. Kristoff was having a field day, being assigned the task of harvesting as much of this as he could before it melted. It looked like, even after the reparations had been payed to their visitors, they would have enough money to sustain them selves through the true winter.

The dignitaries nodded, then an old rivalry between the Sinistral and the Ritus flared up and the shouting began anew. Anna groaned, rubbing her cheeks with her hands. Elsa, where are you?

A few hours into the meeting, there was a knock on the door, and Kai went to open it. Once he did, a man in a bright red jacket stepped in, flanked by two men in similar attire. Everyone in the room fell silent and stood, lowering their heads in respect. Anna hurriedly stood up, nearly falling as she gave a basic curtsy.

One does not show disrespect to a messenger of the World Court.

The leader's jacket was adorned in gold trim, and he had red and black shako beneath his arm, and a rolled up document in his other. He eyed Anna with distaste, then moved forward to her place at the table. He bowed, clearly unhappy that he had to do so, then stood, towering over her. "Queen Anna, may I speak to the court?"

"You may, but please. Refrain from calling me with queen. I am merely a princess." Anna said, confused and worried about the mans sudden appearance.

The man laughed. "Well, after what I have to say here, you will think otherwise." He turned towards the table unfolding the paper. Anna, with growing amounts of sorrow, realized it was a poster. The word WANTED stretched across the top, and he read from the poster.

"The woman formerly known as Queen Elsa of Arendelle is now to be stripped of all her titles and is declared a wanted felon. Any people who harbor her are criminals as well, and face up to ten years imprisonment. Elsa Arendelle is wanted for treason, destruction of royal property, and Regicide. If seen, contact the nearest World Court outstation."

"A reward for her capture will be granted by King Galban, ruler of the southern Isles. The reward is none less than three million gold pieces and ownership of the Harmonic Isles, a small chain of islands owned by the king himself."

The assembled crowd gasped, then listened as he continued talking.

"The land will only be granted if the fugitive is captured alive. Otherwise, the reward is the same amount of gold."

The words took a moment to sink in, but once they did, Anna sat down in her chair, hard.

Elsa, don't come back!

The swords clashed and parried, and Elsa grinned as she managed to drive John back half a step. Her twin swords moved in shimmering blue arcs, a coating of ice on each blade. When her sword met a normal sword, snow and ice shards would fly into the air.

When they met Johns sword, there were bursts of steam.

They had progressed past using the wooden swords Bran had carved for them, seeing as she needed to get used to the weight of the steel swords she now called her own. She was also learning to control her powers without needing to use her hands. She could make ice or control what already existed, but making large structures like walls required at least one free hand.

"Your footwork is sloppy." John said, his face showing no emotion as he gave her the advice. Elsa resisted the urge to roll her eyes - a single moment of weakness spells death on the battlefield. Instead, she replied in kind.

"My footwork is perfect, John. I've always been a good dancer." She dodged a lunge, knocking his sword aside with one of her blades, spinning closer with her other, with a slash at his knee. He deflected it with his small shield, pressing her back with a sweeping side blow, then an overhand that she was forced to block with both her swords crossed.

It seemed like thats what they were doing, dancing. The dance was unscripted, as was the song of fire and ice that they danced to. Steel on steel, his flaming blade to her frozen one, the feel of the earth beneath her as she ducked, weaved, parried, slashed, stabbed - she loved it. The swords seemed to sing to her, their leather handgrips comfortable in her hands. She had only been learning to sword fight for weeks, but she knew that she was better than many of the men she would ever face.

Many of them wasn't enough for her. She had to be better than all of them.

One of the few she couldn't beat stood before her now. His sword arched flame, swinging, slashing, breaking through her fragile defenses. One day she would beat him - she knew she would.

But not today. Because she stumbled over a root, hidden beneath the fallen leaves. She glanced down for a split second, finding her footing, but when she looked up the sword was inches from her face. She flung up one of hers to block it, but with a ringing crash it flew from her hands, burying itself in the ground yards away. He slammed into her with his shoulder, and she stumbled to the ground, wincing. She felt heat at her throat as John held the tip of his sword beneath her chin, then pulled away and sheathed it.

"I wasn't lying when I said your footwork needed work. You are graceful, there is no doubt about that, but pure grace is no match against a surefooted opponent." She frowned, then accepted his hand to pull her up. Her hands brushed away dirt from her leather leggings, and she went to retrieve her sword.

Bran still refused to say where her swords had come from. "They were made for you, and only you." That was best answer she had pried from him. He didn't say who made them, or how they knew how well she would fight with them, but she was grateful nonetheless.

"Come on. We still have to hunt for tonights meal." John said, turning and pulling a bow from the bag that rested on the ground. He slung his quiver on his back, then whistled. Ghost emerged from the trees, silent as ever, and stood unmoving as John placed the pack on his back, then left for the cave when John patted him on the back. The wolf would find them once they had caught a deer or a few rabbits for tonights meal, then carry it back for them.

Elsa had a small pouch on her waist, and she reached into it and pulled out a long metal chord. She grinned as she locked the hilts of the two swords together, then strung the metal cord from the protruding hooks on the end of each her blades. Satisfied that it was secure, she drew back on the newly-strung bow, feeling the pressure on her arm as she drew. It had taken her most of the last two weeks to even string this bow - John had had her use a common recurve bow for practice until she was strong enough to use her own.

The bow was massive - nearly as tall as she was, and it was capable of firing the arrow massive distances. She, however, had no quiver on her back - she had no need of conventional arrows.

They set off into the woods, John occasionally stopping to check traps he had strung up. They had caught a rabbit in one of them, but to feed the massive wolves they needed a deer at the least. The wolves could easily catch food on their own, but Elsa required more practice at hunting than they did.

John moved as silently as his wolf, stepping over fallen branches and leaves in a low crouch, not making a sound. Elsa had at first attempted to follow his example, but eventually gave up and resorted to making a bed of snow with every footstep. The snow muffled most sounds she would make, and melted shortly after in the summer heat.

The forest was quiet, the trees shaking in a slight breeze, their green leaves swaying. The air was warm, but Elsa didn't mind it for now. As they walked, rested her hand on a tree, then pulled it away when she touched sap. Frowning, she wiped it off with some snow, then examined her hand.

Calluses were beginning to form on her palms and fingertips, and they were not the frail, thin fingers she had had before she left the kingdom. She was no longer clad in ice, but in clothes that Bran had given to her the day after she had arrived. He arms were bare, and her torso was covered in a thickly padded leather vest. She had a woolen undershirt underneath it, and every morning she wrapped her breasts in bandages to prevent them from moving and causing discomfort, rather than wearing a brassier. Her leather leggings went down past her knees, leaving her calves bare. However, the exposed skin on her legs was covered by the boots that she wore, that came midway up her shins. She stored many things in those boots - mostly knives she probably wouldn't need - but they were actually very comfortable.

She prodded her bare arms, and frowned as she felt muscle, rather than the soft skin that had been there before. Whenever she moved her arms, she could see the tendons stretch and bend under her will. She was no longer the girl who sat, locked in her room, staring out the window.

She was a fighter, now.

Before she could figure out if that was a good thing or a bad thing, John snapped his fingers. She looked up, slowly, trying not to disturb whatever he had seen.

Right before them was the clearing they hunted at regularly. The forest ended, and she slowly climbed up the tree he pointed at, her bow at her side, not yet drawn. Once she reached her perch, crouching on a limb midway up the tree, she looked out onto the field.

About three hundred yards away, there was a healthy buck, its tail flicking from side to side as it looked around. Content that it was alone, it bent over to graze on the grass.

Elsa slowed her breathing, drawing the bow back. As she did so, an arrow of pure, hardened ice formed on the string between her fingers, and she looked down the sights. Most archers would say that this show was impossible - almost a thousand feet, at a small target, with shifting winds? With a normal bow, this would be impossible. And no normal archer could dream of hitting this shot.

Elsa was not a normal archer. And this was not a normal bow.

She pulled back on the string, at a full draw. She breathed in. The bow shuddered as the arrow left it, her fingers releasing the string. The arrow hissed, cold as it sliced through the air. There was a resounding 'Thwap' as the drawstring pulled itself back in, and the arrow hurtled at an immense speed, slamming into the side of the deer, piercing its heart.

She breathed out.

She grinned down at John, swinging down the branches of the tree. "Got 'em."

John smiled back. "I didn't doubt you for a second." He whistled again, and Ghost padded into the field, going to retrieve her prize. She smiled, disassembling her bow - Frostbite. She placed the metal cord into the pouch on her waist, then placed the twin swords - Frost and Bitter - back into their single sheath. Bran had told her that that was was what was written on the sides of the blades, and she was pleased with the translation. On the sheath itself, it said 'Nothing is as cold as the final sleep.'

They began their trek back to the cave, and as soon as they arrived they were greeted by Bran, swinging himself around on his crutches. He was packing up the bags, putting strange leather contraptions on the wolves - were those saddles? - and heating up the stew, all at the same time.

"Whats going on, Bran? You shouldn't tire yourself out like this." John said, going to attach the saddles himself. Bran shook his head, going to attend to the rabbit stew.

"I just woke up." He said, in way of explanation. The other two just nodded. "And... Well." He looked up at Elsa, his lips pressed together. "Elsa, there's a bounty on your head worth a small country. We have to leave by dawn."

Elsa was shocked. "What..." Bran wasn't finished however.

"And Elsa... The reward is still available if you are dead."

John sat down, wearily. "Well. We're going to have to be a lot more careful now."

So. I couldn't wait, I really wanted to write this.

Anyhoo... things are about to get a lot more serious. Our Journey has just started.

A few things, to those who are curious:

Lightbringer is an actual sword in Game of Thrones.

Elsa's monster is named Sion (SIGH-on) after a video game character.

The names of the other 12 brothers(And the seven sisters) will be revealed soon enough.

If you enjoyed the story, leave a favorite, a follow, and/or a review! Every little bit helps me out.

Love Y'all!

-Arac