To Your Majesty the Queen,

This letter is going to be a goliath, so please bear with me. I binge-read your epistles late last night after rocking my baby girl to sleep, and I'm pretty much still straining to keep my eyes open as we speak (or ink). That exhaustion might turn up in my butchered deliveries, but I'm doing what I can to give each point a deserving amount of attention. I'd just like to add one head note to my update before I get to the main text:

What did you mean by "confined on loathly southern cays," exactly? I could be mistaking figurative speech for literal speech, and I'm 50% certain that you're not talking about the Southern Isles, but I'm 50% certain that you're talking about the Southern Isles, so some clarification would greatly ease my conscience. In the interim of that, I'll expand on your other material:

The shipwreck: I have got to thank you in person for taking care of my messenger and his escorts. They had plenty to say about your benignancy and "pulchritude" coupled with a novel of swoony tales about how you checked up on them every single day. They probably had a little too much to say about the pulchritude part, but they meant well. Overall, they're a grateful cavalry of characters who will probably be clogging your drawers with fan mail in the near future, so be prepared for that. Just know that I have nothing to do with any engagement rings that might possibly turn up in them.

Bogohardt is not the only one who's talked about mermaids in the Nördlich Sea (in case you were thrown off by my umlaut, this would be the name Corona uses). That's been an ongoing rumor for quite a while. At this juncture in my life, I'm apt to believe in unicorns, so mermaids aren't too out-of-water for my sanity metric.

The Valentine's gifts: Don't fret over them getting destroyed. They probably would've gotten lost under all the other packages you were getting from twitterpated suitors. Birthdays should be coming around pretty soon, so that's when I'll be able to make it up to you. If I'm not mistaken, Her Highness and Your Majesty fall under the Gemini and Virgo zodiacs.

The Magic Golden Flower: I haven't considered any parts of the flower still being alive inside of me at all. If it were, it might've been born with Izzy, but by the looks of things, that's not what happened. Would it be stupendous, however? Absolutely. I've always wanted superhuman powers, and what could be more special than healing powers?

After all, I may have been able to save my very own wife. Not being able to is how I know that the Magic Golden Flower is gone for good. . .

Isolde's recovery: I am to infinity and beyond proud of my baby girl. Inspired is another appropriate adjective. I could honestly learn a thing or two from her fortitude. Humorously enough, Izzy is starting to favor me more than she favors Rapunzel. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing, but I guess only time will tell.

Please do me a favor by not apologizing for your candor; every time you do, I feel bad. By the way, your simile was utterly relatable. I haven't been to any snow-capped mountains as of late, but I know being in the mountains, miles away from councils and rules, comes gift-wrapped with a feeling of euphoria. The height frees you from all the ground level dust and debris, doesn't it? No matter what my day's been like, I try to spend the beginning and end of it with Izzy to keep that feeling alive.

I've even been reading a special book series to her that she'll appreciate ten times more when she's older. Except for a few minor tweaks on behalf of creative license, it's a retelling of her mother's adventures written by yours truly. Rapunzel's spiritalways sits beside me when I read to our little us. The only downside to our story time is the fact that my physician thinks my back pain stems from my aversion to sleeping in my own bed, but I feel like it's my job to be at Isolde's side as her father, so that's something both he and my vertebrae will just have to get used to. I also stated in my previous note that I would definitely appreciate more of a head's up the next time you send physicians to Corona.

My trust in strangers with stethoscopes is significantly weak, but I do understand why you made the moves you did in the time frame that you did. You examined the situation and launched into action. I couldn't be more moved.

Trollsome Pabbie: Sorry, but I've never heard of rock trolls in all thirty-eight years of my life. Had I known that, I might've been a little more ambivalent towards the remedy and missed out on a grand opportunity to help my daughter. Magic is fine with me, but magic I'm unfamiliar with is a no-go. It took me days just to poke Rapunzel's frying pan at the magic charm you packaged. I hope you aren't offended, but I can't lie to you here.

Dr. Ingul did happen to drop a line about this charm soothing the skin of infants without neonatal encephalopathy (the amount of syllables in this word is pure evil), but I haven't put it in Izzy's bed. I seriously do hope that I'm not offending you by saying all this. It's not that I think you would harm Isolde; it's just that I've never seen your powers in healthy action. Really any action, for that matter, and it's a lot harder for me to be okay with giving Isolde something that I myself don't know much about in regards to its stability. Instead of keeping it locked up in my study forever, I am going to send it back to you in April once we've established our new mail mammal.

For what it's worth, your charm is rather dazzling. Mesmerizing, even. Anna's comparison was spot-on; the aesthetic appeal is so remarkable that you would think it came straight out of a fairy tale. What you did for those orphans sounds like it was frightening, wonderful, and inspiriting all in one stint. I have to commend you on your bravery.

I'm curious, though: since it was such a success, aren't you worried about the attention it'll gain from chemists? I know you three are holding off on publicity and commercialization, but no matter when you choose to unveil the merits of supernatural science, the payoff will still open up a can of worms. I'm not aiming to add more weight to your load. I was just wondering if you thought about it.

The Ice Leaf: My apologies for keeping you in suspense with that indeliberate cliff-hanger. I was saying that there's nothing frosty about the Ice Leaf; the cringe-worthy name is purely aesthetic. There was a debate on whether it should have been called the "Frost Flower" or "Snowdrop," but I personally thought those were schmaltzy. Anyway, the petals are white with yellow anthers, and the only usable parts are the silver stalk's resin, the root, and most outstandingly, the leaves themselves. Anyone who soaks them can tell you that they don't have any magical properties, but that doesn't mean their herbal qualities aren't worth acknowledging.

The Ice Leaf is perfect for opening up the lungs, so it's been working wonders on Isolde's. I really never factored it into her situation until your team swooped in like the seraphs they are. Dr. Waldus brought the stalk back, used the indispensable pieces, combined it with the Maullow Root juice from Arendelle, let us mix it together with her therapy diet in the mornings, and voilá. She's been breathing better on her own ever since. No one could really explain to me the cause of her episodes until now. Since I finally have more leverage, life has been much kinder to my little sunshine.

Best of all, stimulating her pleural activity and massaging her chest with lobelia oil at dawn — as opposed to reviving her whenever she pauses for too long — has reduced those scary scenarios by and large. Isolde arrived at 36.5 weeks, so she's still a premature baby with needs that we have to work around, but her chances at a good life are far better than they would've been at thirty or twenty-four weeks. I don't know how to thank you and your team. All of you have exceeded my expectations by and large.

As a side note, honesty is never inappropriate. It's a requirement. Had this been orphan Eugene reading, he would've objected against your testimony, but on the sheer strength of my new experiences, I understand your opinion about objectification and glorification being one and the same when you're a sovereign (or prince). What I will add is that you're actually treated as an object regardless of whether you're a sovereign or a peasant. To the people behind the crown, both are tools; to the people supporting it, you're either a god or a nobody, and therein that unhappy little system, hardly ever human.

But according to you, we have each other, so hopefully we can collaborate against the powers behind us to smooth out the bumpy mortar that lies between Arendelle-Corona relations.

The famine response method: I think your plan is exquisite. The first sign of crop trouble may have been the influx of wooly aphids covering my wife's garden last year, which are rather bizarre immigrants. Mildew began growing on our vegetables, legumes, grapevines, hops, squash, and other cucurbits several months later in the villages of Hohendorf. The strange mist from the sea has turned stalks black and ruined some of what they had in storage for the winter.

All of these rapid climate changes keep depressing the yields we rely on, so unrelenting rain caused prices on salt for meat preservation, wheat, and grain to climb. Many poor people in Hohendorf didn't have access to the foods that were being stored because of those prices; not knowing how else to balance the kingdom, I built small meal centers from the ground up instead. Animal diseases carried over from the ships of foreign livestock breeders recently stormed Gustrow, putting the onus on the Crown. Trade ministers think stopping traffic is a must. Meanwhile, you think closing ports would stop every layer of this cataclysm from going from bad to worse, yet my councilmen are stuck on a teeter-totter...

The public believes we're at a brush with the bubonic plague, but I can promise you that's we're nowhere near it. The hardest part is really figuring out how we should go about monitoring and containing conditions. We've separated the sick livestock from the people in Gustrow and quarantined those who have already gotten sick by placing them in the isolated care of holistic doctors. I don't like it, but I've maxed out every other option.

As things stand right now, some of the Gustrow orphans who haven't eaten in weeks aren't able to digest food, and the food therapy I was given is too strong for their stomachs, but I have a plan that will reverse the clocks. I always have a plan.

Your coronation: Did I stare? My apologies. I guarantee you that it wasn't because you were horrifying. Not visually, anyway. Now, was I horrified? Well, yes and no.

To clear the air, I was only trying to figure out if what I saw was more than a delusional head trip on my part. Weselton saved you from my gawking faster than I could blink, so there wasn't much that I could've said, and I was willing to keep it that way. One particular opinion of mine was very constant: you were afraid, and fear is not the demeanor of a monster. In any case, I wouldn't have gone out on some "noble" mission to expose your magic. Maybe babble to my wife in gibberish, but I wasn't going to grab a pitchfork and tell everyone to go light their torches.

In the eyes of Prince Eugene, whatever you were hiding and whatever you had wasn't anyone's business except your own. At this moment in time, I regret not having actually said something when I first saw that helpless look on your face. I absolutely should've said something, but instead, I let you walk away. I want to apologize for that as well. You deserved a shoulder.

Oh, and MIA is actually just an abbreviation for "Missing in Action." And yes, I did sniggle when you asked.

The banquet: I suspected that you would attend no matter what I told you. You come off like the type of matriarch who can't be swayed or snowed once her mind has been made up, which is somehow as disappointing as it is admirable. I was going to send an envoy to the banquet just to keep an eye on you, but that plan never fell through. I highly respect what you said about dehumanization and impartiality; you've got my vote. I just have trouble distancing my objectivity from my intuition in this scenario.

King Ragnar's explanation may hold water, but I have to go with my gut instinct on this one and say that he most likely is trying to vindicate himself in the same breath. I haven't received anything from him and I'm not at all surprised. On top of which, your reenactment of that waltz with Prince Aloysius didn't shock me, either. There's a certain way to handle a woman after you've jarred the "adult butterflies" she stirs within you, and making her uncomfortable ain't it. That legitimately hit a nerve in me and I wasn't even the one suffering in his arms.

If you'd ever like me to pummel him one day, just say the magic word. I'm sure we can arrange something in a back alley.

My coronation: It didn't go as concerted. Frederic's crown jewels were stolen by two convicts who have yet to be found. Their heist delayed the coronation and climactically sent everyone packing. The lack of royal attendance is making us reconsider putting on another one. I can't say I'm disappointed.

What other kings and politicians are saying isn't anything new. I'm used to getting lynched in public. I stuck it out as Prince Eugene and I can't do anything except stick it out as King Eugene, but with everything that's been happening, it did pile up on me this time around. I fell prey to a moment of weakness. That wasn't why I wanted to call off the coronation, however.

I wanted to cancel the whole thing because of what's been happening in Gustrow. Those need far more coverage than libels from people traveling halfway across the world to heckle me.

The three red flags:

1) Prince Hans

I'm not even a little bit daunted by this caveat. Hans and I have a very brief yet briny history together. To make a long story short, he tried to get me pinned under a chandelier on my wedding day. I never mined any evidence to support that feeling in the bones and neither did I speak on that feeling in the bones. It really was buried underneath my subconsciousness, but after word got out about what he did to Her Highness and Your Majesty, I was sure of it then: he had graduated from trying to widow a princess to trying to widow a kingdom.

2) My past

Don't dwell on it. No matter what he verbally dishes out, I've got it taken care of.

The publication: I was never claimed by anyone. They just decided to put out an interview about me being a royal duke's illegitimate son. He's not dead, either. I don't know what part of the world he's currently deflowering, but he hasn't claimed me, so the Bishop of Corona pardoned my illegitimacy for my marriage.

3) King Ragnar

Please tell me that you're not actually going to accept this viper's offer. There have to be other lovelorn suitors gallivanting and gladiatoring for your heart, preferably ones without reptilian DNA. I realize that Princess Anna has a morganatic marriage, I understand what biological clocks are, and I get that the Storting is looking for "guaranteed equanimity" to keep your kingdoms permanently cordial, but this isn't cosigning international peace. This is cosigning suicide. It's literally everything Hans has ever dreamed of.

Pardon me for being so forward, but I'm wracking my brain for another way to word this. For your own safety, I very much hope that Your Majesty won't go through with this. Just hold off on procreation for a little longer.

From Corona,
XXIII of March, 1847
King Eugene