Frozen: To the End

Chapter One

Prelude

"Promise me something, Elsa."

"Anything."

"Promise me that, no matter what happens, we will always be sisters. And nothing will ever come between us again. Ever."

"I promise, Anna."

"To the end?"

"To the end . . ."

Arendelle at night would be considered, under ordinary circumstances, a sight to behold.

The moonlight glistening upon the surface of the fjord sent a shimmer of luminescence across the 'Delle, reflecting off the buildings that comprised the village like light refracted within a diamond. Indeed, this small kingdom was considered by many neighboring nations, from Weselton to the Southern Isles, the crown jewel of the region. Whispers ran through the streets of neighboring lands regarding the 'Delle's mysteries—whispers that had only multiplied exponentially over the past decade since the king had, without warning, without explanation, sealed his two daughters away from the outside world.

The castle was normally silent at this time of night, interrupted solely by the quiet footsteps of the royal guards as they conducted their midnight rounds, as well as the soft, gentle breathing emanating from the structure's inhabitants, both servant and royal alike. But this night, within one of the royal bedchambers, the silence was broken by a single word.

"Elsa."

The princess stirred at the sound of her name, her ice blue eyes shooting open instantaneously. Roused from her usual restless slumber, the eighteen-year-old turned her gaze toward her bedroom door. Squinting, she brushed a lock of platinum blonde hair from her eyes, eyes that widened in recognition as the last vestiges of sleep melted away. "Father?" she whispered, uncertain.

King Agnarr nodded, stepping forward into the room. His expression was grave, his lined face filled with barely concealed anxiety as he beheld his elder daughter. "Get dressed," he said, his voice calm, yet firm.

It was a command, Elsa noted, not a request. Her brow furrowed as confusion washed over her. "Wh– . . . Why?"

Agnarr sighed, his hands clasped behind his back, a posture he adopted, Elsa knew, only when he was faced with most . . . unpleasant circumstances. "Do as I ask," he said after several tense, quiet moments. "There is somewhere we must go. Something I . . . Something we must do."

Elsa's stomach churned at her father's words. He can't be serious, she thought to herself. This . . . This is a dream. It has to be! I can't leave the castle! I . . . I just can't . . .

Agnarr's gaze turned to Elsa's clutched hands, his heart heavy. He knew his daughter all-too-well, well enough to recognize that she was terrified at the prospect of leaving the castle that had been her shield from the outside world for the past decade, ever since . . .

A thin layer of frost was beginning to form on the room's walls. Agnarr stepped forward, sitting next to Elsa on the bed. "Control it, Elsa," he said, his voice simultaneously gentle and firm. He reached for the gloves on the bedside table, handing them to his daughter. "You can do this."

Elsa nodded wordlessly, taking the gloves from her father, making certain to avoid all contact with Agnarr's flesh. As she slipped the gloves onto her hands, she closed her eyes, the frost lining the walls receding into nothingness. She opened her eyes once more. "Is Mother coming?" she whispered.

Agnarr shook his head. "No. Nor is Anna. This, Elsa . . ." He paused, his hand moving to his chin, his fingers brushing against the hairs of his mustache. "This is something, I'm afraid, we must do alone."

The princess nodded. Of course, Anna would not be involved; that had been the status quo for the past ten years. It was too dangerous, Elsa knew, for her to interact with her younger sister; the heartbreak and isolation that was her daily experience was her penance for how she had once nearly killed Anna with her damnable curse. But for her mother to be left out . . . A chill ran down Elsa's spine—ironic such a sensation may have been for one as . . . unique as herself—as her mind began to race, to postulate just what could be so secretive, so solemn that her father would—

"Elsa."

Her father's voice jarred Elsa from her thoughts. He was at the door to her room now, looking over his shoulder at her. "Meet me in the stables in ten minutes," he said. "Move quickly and quietly. Tell no one where you are going. Do you understand?"

She nodded, forcing herself to remain calm, to control her emotions as she had trained herself to do, lest she lose control over the curse again. As soon as Agnarr departed, Elsa rose from her bed, quickly changing from her nightgown into a long blue dress and matching jacket. Her hair tied back in its customary tight bun, she opened the door and stepped into the corridor. She moved as lightly and silently as she possibly could, making her way down the stairs to the castle's main entrance. Her hand trembled as she reached for the door, the taste of blood coating her tongue as she realized she was biting her lip. She pulled her hand back, terror and anxiety assaulting her mercilessly as she struggled to will herself to do what she had not done in ten years and leave the castle. From beneath her gloves, she could feel the curse trying to manifest itself, the blue and silver light emanating from her fingertips escaping the confines of her gloves, begging for release.

"Conceal it, don't feel it," she whispered to herself. "Conceal it, don't feel it. Conceal. Don't . . . Don't feel . . ."

Grimacing, Elsa asserted her will over her terror. Banishing her fear to the depths of her consciousness, she opened the door. Glancing about the moonlit courtyard, satisfied she was alone, the princess made her way to the stables. Her father was waiting for her, his horse already bridled and saddled.

"Quickly," Agnarr said, taking hold of Elsa's still-gloved hand, helping her astride his horse. "We have very little time."

Elsa opened her mouth to inquire just what was happening, just what could possibly be so urgent as to require her to leave the castle, to break the unspoken rule her father had set down years ago mandating she live her life in near total isolation. Agnarr, however, mounted the horse in silence, paying no heed to his daughter's concerns. With a flick of the reins, the horse galloped forth into the night.

As they rode, Elsa clutched her arms around her father's waist. Whatever was happening, wherever they were going, Agnarr clearly had no intention of telling her more than he felt she was necessary. They rode in silence, the moon far above providing the necessary illumination for their journey. The minutes dragged on, and on, and on, and still Agnarr did not speak. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the king addressed his daughter, his gaze still firmly affixed to the path before them.

"You will be queen of Arendelle someday, Elsa."

Elsa strained to hear her father's voice over the sound of the horse's hooves galloping against the ground. She dared not respond. This was something that had rarely been discussed yet long understood between her parents and herself: One way or another, barring unnatural intervention, they would die before her, and she, even with the curse the three of them had worked tirelessly over the past decade to keep hidden from the outside world, would become queen of the 'Delle.

"I have tried," the king continued, "to teach you everything I know about ruling a kingdom." He paused, the horse's pace suddenly slowing. "I had hoped," Agnarr continued after what seemed an eternity to Elsa, "the lesson you must learn tonight was one I would never have occasion to teach you." A single, joyless laugh left his lips. "But circumstances, fate, call it what you will, apparently have other ideas . . ."

Before the princess could ask her father for clarity, the small glade in which they had stopped filled with the sound of something—several somethings, in point of fact—rolling toward them. Elsa's grip on Agnarr's waist tightened as the shapes moved closer. "Wait," she whispered, squinting in the dim moonlight, long-forgotten memories suddenly swirling within her mind. "These . . . I've seen these before!"

Agnarr nodded. "That you have, Elsa. Though not for ten years now."

As Agnarr dismounted from the horse, Elsa saw the shapes uncurl themselves. Standing before them now were half a dozen trolls—the same trolls, Elsa realized, she had first seen that terrible night so many years ago when—

"Your Majesty."

Grand Pabbie, leader of the trolls, bowed before the king, his companions mimicking his motion. Raising a hand, Agnarr gestured for them to rise. Standing, Pabbie clasped the king's hand, holding it tight. "I trust, Your Majesty, that you received my message."

"Indeed," Agnarr replied, nodding. He glanced about, his face lined with concern. "Where is he?"

Pabbie gestured toward the deep thicket of trees surrounding the glade. "They are bringing him behind us," he said. "He will be here momen– . . ."

The troll's voice trailed off as his eyes fell upon Elsa, still seated upon her father's horse. "Your Highness!" he exclaimed in astonishment. Surprise gave way to grave worry as Pabbie turned back toward Agnarr. "You . . . You brought her with you? Are you certain that is wise—"

"Please."

Agnarr's gaze was steely, his jaw set. "I already owe you a debt I can never repay for saving my Anna's life. And yes, under ordinary circumstances, I would not have wanted Elsa to have any part in this." He turned to face his daughter. "And yet . . . And yet, she is my heir. Much as I dread to show her this, she must learn that, sometimes, being a ruler means making choices as to who lives . . . and who dies."

Elsa, who had been dismounting the horse as Agnarr was speaking, froze at his words, her breath catching in her throat. Beneath her gloves, the light pulsed once more. Stop it! she ordered herself. Stop it now—

A rustling sound emanated from the surrounding trees. With a grunt, three large trolls emerged. Two of them clenched several long ropes, ropes that bound the hands of a tall figure, while the third wielded a large broadsword pointed at their captive's back.

Pabbie moved toward them, shaking his head. "What kept you?"

"Him."

The troll with the sword thrust the blade toward the prisoner's throat, stopping it mere inches from his flesh. "We would have been here by now if someone would have just cooperated—"

"Do not dare to presume you have any authority over me, troll."

The figure spoke, his voice low, hissing like a serpent. Pabbie's face darkened. "Rather," he said, extending his hand. "Do not presume you have authority over me."

The prisoner's face twisted in anguish as Pabbie tightened his hand into a fist, the ancient troll's magic working its will upon the captive man. Satisfied the figure had been reminded of his own powerlessness under his present conditions, Pabbie looked to Agnarr, gesturing toward the captive man. "I believe you and Lord Magnus are already well acquainted, Your Majesty."

Agnarr took hold of Elsa's shoulder. "Stay here, Elsa," he whispered. Turning, he strode forward, until he was less than three feet from the prisoner. "So. We meet again, Magnus."

The captive man tossed his head defiantly, his long, raven hair glistening in the moonlight. "Well met indeed, Your Majesty," he said. "My apologies for my lack of manners. I'd bow before you, of course, but, well . . ." He glared at his captors. "Circumstances being what they are, I'm afraid this must suffice."

Without warning, Magnus spat at Agnarr, his gaze filled with hatred for the monarch. At that impertinent gesture, the troll armed with the sword brought the flat side of the blade forcefully against the back of the captive man's knee. The blow forced Magnus to the ground.

"Lord Magnus!" Pabbie cried out. "You will show your king the respect he deserves!"

Calmly, unperturbed, Agnarr wiped the saliva from his brow. "I see your manners have not improved over the years, Magnus. Nor has your temperament, or your lust for power, for that matter. I see my decision to banish you from my council has, sadly, proven all too wise."

At this, Magnus's face darkened, and Elsa swore, even from the distance between her and the prisoner, the malice in his gaze somehow became all the more palpable. "The foolish decision of a boy!" Magnus spat. "Not the considered choice of a king!"

Agnarr shook his head. "You were caught dabbling in the art of the ancient, dark magic," he said. "You should have accepted your exile as the mercy it was and never shown your face near the 'Delle again."

"Mercy?!"

Magnus laughed incredulously. "Mercy?! You dare speak of mercy to me, Agnarr? Do you truly believe it was merciful to leave me friendless, without allies, left to wander these lands alone?"

Agnarr's eyes narrowed. "You brought this on yourself, Magnus," he said. "I gave you the opportunity to repent. You refused—"

"And who are you to command me, Agnarr? Let alone offer me the opportunity for 'repentance'?"

Magnus's face twisted in a sneer of utter contempt. "You are nothing more than the mere boy who returned from his little misadventure in the Forest years ago as king through nothing more than a mere twist of fate." He snorted derisively. "Your father was a man I could respect, a man I could serve with my . . . talents for the glory of the 'Delle. But you?" He laughed mirthlessly, a thought suddenly occurring to him. "Of course. You never really knew your father at all, did you, Agnarr?" Irony of ironies, Magnus thought to himself. Runeard, for all his hatred of magic, would most certainly have reconsidered once he saw how my abilities could be used to his advantage, to expand his power. Instead . . .

Before Agnarr could retort, Magnus peered forward, his brow furrowed in confusion. "What is this I sense?" he murmured. His matted hair glistening in the moonlight, he glared down at Pabbie. "I sense the presence of magic here, troll," he snarled. "But not from you! I sense something far more powerful! Far more dangerous!" His eyes wide, Magnus turned about. "Where is it?! Show yourself!"

Elsa trembled slightly, her gloved hands clenched tight. Hardly daring to breathe, she felt her heart skip a beat as, from across the glade, the prisoner's wild gaze suddenly fell upon her. The confusion on Magnus's face melted away, replaced with shock, which quickly mutated into sudden understanding. A low, bitter laugh emanated from the villain's throat, a laugh that grew louder and louder by the second.

"You truly are a fool, Agnarr!" Magnus whispered, his voice as cold as ice. Elsa shuddered at the sound.

The prisoner shook his head, as if disagreeing with his own assertion. "No. You are worse than a fool, Your Majesty," Magnus continued, his tone mocking. "You are indeed nothing like your father! You judge me for my supposed 'unnatural' and 'evil' abilities, and yet your own daughter—your own heir—you allow to live in spite of the power I sense dwelling within her? Does your hypocrisy know no bounds?!" He cocked his head toward the broadsword in the grasp of the troll guarding him. "Were you a man of principle, you would have slain her long ago, just as you intend to have me slain now. I could have at least died with a grudging respect for you then." His cold laugh echoed throughout the glade. "But now . . . Now, it is clear you are nothing more than a coward too weak to do what you know in your heart must be done. You will always be the scared little boy I saw emerge from the Forest the day your father died." His voice became low, too soft for Elsa to hear. "Were your father here, Agnarr, you know he would never have allowed anything magical to—"

Elsa cried out in astonishment as Agnarr suddenly roared in rage and struck Magnus in the face with all his might. The prisoner staggered backward, blood flowing from his nose. If Magnus had felt pain, however, he did not show it. Rather, the king's sudden outburst appeared to have pleased him all the more. His joyless laugh returned. "Do you think you can harm me, Agnarr?" Magnus hissed. "I have suffered far worse than a broken nose over the years. Unlike some," the captive snarled, glaring at Pabbie, then back to Elsa once more. "Unlike some, I was not born with the gift of magic. I have spent years upon years studying the ancient texts, refining my skill, learning more through failure after failure than by success. And yet, by my own indomitable will, I have become more powerful than any man in Arendelle!"

Clenching his fists, calming himself, Agnarr shook his head. "And yet, here you are, little more than a prisoner."

"Yes," Magnus conceded. "Let this serve to all who hear of it as a lesson in what happens when you dare let down your guard even for a moment. But know this, Agnarr. When I get out of this, I shall not make the same mistake again."

It was Agnarr's turn to lower his voice. "You assume, Magnus, that you will live to see another day. I offered you mercy once, Magnus. You chose to mock my consideration by continuing to practice your dark arts, to make yourself a threat to the innocents who inhabit my kingdom." He paused, his voice heavy. "Rather, it is I that shall not make the same mistake again." He nodded toward the armed troll; the creature responded by forcing the captive to his knees once more. He raised his weapon above Magnus's head. Agnarr regarded the prisoner, his gaze unflinching. "This ends now, I'm afraid."

"No!"

Elsa stood between Agnarr and Magnus now, her eyes filled with disbelief as she gazed upon her father.

"Elsa, get back!" Agnarr ordered. "Get away from him! You do not know what he is capable of—"

"Maybe not," Elsa replied. "But Father, is this . . ." She gestured about, her face filled with anxiety. "Is this what we stand for as people of Arendelle? Do we kill men in cold blood without a trial? Is . . . Is this justice?" Her gaze pleaded silently with Agnarr, her voice little more than a whisper. "You can't tell me the good man who taught me all he knows about ruling a kingdom would ever consider this!"

Behind her, Elsa could hear Magnus's cold laugh once more. "Your daughter is wise beyond her years, Agnarr," he said. "Perhaps you should listen to her—"

"Silence!"

Agnarr's voice rang throughout the glade. Elsa shrank back involuntarily. The expression upon her father's face was one she had seen only once before. It was the same expression of rage mixed with terror she had seen Agnarr display the night she had almost killed her sister.

"I am doing this to protect innocent lives!" Agnarr insisted, his voice nearly as cold as Magnus's now. "You do not know him, Elsa. There is nothing in this world powerful enough to contain him. Look at Grand Pabbie!"

Elsa turned toward the ancient troll, her stomach churning once more as she beheld the strain evident upon the wizened being's face.

Agnarr continued, his eyes wide with exhaustion, with stress. "He cannot contain Magnus's magic forever, Elsa. No cell can hold him! What would you have me do? Let him continue to roam free as he has all these years, growing stronger by the day, knowing it is only a matter of time before he unleashes his might against our kingdom? Against your mother? Against Anna?! No!"

The king took hold of Elsa's gloved hand, squeezing it tightly. "Sometimes, a king must condone evil for the benefit of the greater good. You must understand, Elsa! If I had any other choice, I . . ."

Elsa refused to meet his gaze. "There is always a choice, Father. Sometimes we . . . Sometimes we are just too blind to see what it is." Her moist eyes met her father's at long last. "Or did you lie to me all those times you said that to me over the years?"

"Do not judge your father too harshly, Your Highness," Magnus said, his voice smooth with false empathy. "Like I said, his own hypocrisy is on full display for all who choose to see . . ."

A terrible thought crossed Elsa's mind. Her hands trembling, she swallowed. "Is . . . Is what he said true?"

Agnarr shook his head. "I told you, Elsa, do not listen to him! He—"

"Would you have done it?!"

Elsa was shouting now, she realized, and yet she did not care. "Would you have killed me as an infant had you known then what . . ." She felt the curse tug at her fingertips beneath her gloves once more, desperately this time, as if begging her for release. Conceal! Conceal! "If you would have known I was magical?"

Agnarr did not answer, and yet, his silence was all the answer Elsa needed. She was breathing heavily now, she realized, her entire body quaking. As if from across an endless chasm, she heard her father's, Pabbie's, and Magnus's voices all speaking at the same time, but the words were indistinct, a sonic blur in her mind. Staggering about, overwhelmed, she pressed her hand against a nearby tree to steady herself, only then realizing that somehow, someway, her glove had fallen off her hand—or perhaps she had removed it herself, she had no idea. All she knew in that moment was that she was losing control, that the power inside her practically screamed to be released, and in her heightened emotional state, she was no longer capable of containing it.

She screamed in terror as the tree beneath her fingers was suddenly coated in layer upon layer of thick, heavy ice. Stepping backward, she pressed her hands to her ears, shutting her eyes tightly. The voices of the men and trolls in the glade were louder now, but she still could not make sense of them. All she knew was she wanted it all—the terror, the self-hatred, the fear of being different—to go away, to leave her alone, to let her go back to being alone in her bedroom once more, when—

"Stop!"

Pandemonium filled the glade as ice, snow, and arctic wind erupted from the princess's being. Agnarr, Pabbie, and the other trolls dove for cover as blue and silver light swirled about uncontrollably. One tree, entirely encased in ice, uprooted itself, the sheer weight from the frozen water bringing it crashing down around them.

In the chaos, Magnus seized his chance. With a cry, he leaped over the fallen tree, disappearing into the forest as the light continued to wreak havoc all around him. As he ran, something heavy, something frigid struck him in the chest. Screaming in agony, he continued his flight, disappearing into the night, far away from the wintry hell Elsa had involuntarily unleashed.

"Elsa! Elsa, look at me! Look at me!"

Opening her eyes, Elsa saw Agnarr standing before her, his hands firmly clamped upon her shoulders. "Calm!" Agnarr said, his gaze firmly locked upon his daughter's terrified countenance. "Breathe, Elsa! Breathe!"

The princess nodded, rational thought slowly returning to her as she forced herself to regain control of her emotions. The blue and silver light swirling about the glade dissipated, the chaos over almost as soon as it had begun.

Elsa stared at her hands, a horrified expression upon her face. "I . . . I . . ." The next thing she knew, she was sobbing, her head buried in her hands. Wordlessly, Agnarr took her into his grasp, wrapping his arms around her, allowing his daughter to bury her face in his shoulder. "It's all right," Agnarr whispered, stroking Elsa's hair. "It's all right . . ."

As Elsa wept, the king locked eyes with Pabbie, man and troll both sharing the same grim expression. Each turned their gaze toward the thicket, at a loss at how to deal with the unexpected turn of events.

Elsa, Agnarr thought to himself as he consoled his daughter. Elsa, just what have you done . . .?

"Do you have to go?"

Agnarr turned, inhaling slowly. Elsa stood before him at the foot of the stairs, her gloved hands clutched tightly about one another.

"You know I do," the king replied. "It's only for two weeks, Elsa. You and Anna will be fine."

Elsa grimaced, too ashamed to meet her father's gaze. "We both know that's not true. Not after . . . Not after what happened . . ."

Agnarr sighed. It had been three weeks since the incident in the glade. He had assigned his best men to the task, but so far, no sign of Magnus had been found. It was as if, the king considered, an unpleasant sensation washing over him, the dark magician had simply vanished into nothingness. They had been fortunate, Agnarr knew, to have captured him before. Now, however, he had no doubt Magnus would make good on his word and fail to provide them with a similar opportunity again.

"Elsa, look at me."

The princess stared at her father, her gaze filled with misery.

"It wasn't your fault," Agnarr said. "It was mine. You weren't ready. I never should have brought you there. I asked you to witness something you never should have seen. To approve of something that goes against everything I have taught you, everything our people stand for."

Elsa shook her head. "I was weak. I see that now. I never should have—"

"Yes, you should have."

Agnarr's voice was firm as he stroked his daughter's chin. "You kept me from doing something I never should have even contemplated. You proved your worthiness to rule our people beyond all doubt, Elsa. Your compassion, your concern for others . . . Those will serve you well when you are finally queen."

"Then why . . ."

Elsa's lip trembled. "Why do I feel so terrible?"

Agnarr smiled. "It will pass, Elsa. Trust me. Your mother and I will see you and your sister again in two weeks. I promise."

The king kissed his daughter on the brow one last time before turning and exiting the castle. Not stopping for a moment, not looking behind him, he made his way to his ship, his hands clasped in the small of his back.

"What did you tell her?"

Iduna looked at him as he boarded the ship. The king exhaled slowly, shaking his head. "What she needed to hear."

The queen nodded, tears forming at the edge of her eyes. "Why did you bring her in the first place?"

"I don't know, Iduna," Agnarr admitted, resting his hands on the deck's railing. "I honestly don't know." Wordlessly, he accepted the drink from the servant who handed it to him, downing the alcohol in a single swallow. "And the worst part is . . . Deep down, I . . ." He turned to face his wife, his own shame washing over him. "I fear Magnus may have been right after all. That I would have . . . God forgive me, I actually have considered it in my darkest moments over the years and . . ."

Iduna gasped both in horror at her husband's revelation and in surprise as the king turned away and furiously hurled his glass into the waters of the fjord. Nothing was said between the two of them for a long, long time. Finally, as the crew finished their final preparations for the voyage, Agnarr looked at Iduna again.

"I have made so many mistakes with her . . . with both our girls over the years," he whispered. "This voyage . . ."

He grasped his queen's hand, squeezing it firmly. "This curse of Elsa's must be broken. For the good of the 'Delle. For the good of our people. For her own good. I swear, Iduna, we will find away to free her from her magic. Or . . ."

Iduna shuddered, already knowing the answer to the question she was about to ask. "Or what?"

Agnarr's eyes filled with determination. "Or we will die trying . . ."

AN: My hope is that this story serves as a possible, fitting conclusion to the thematic contour created by Frozen and Frozen II. And while I know Disney would never produce a story like this, I hope it does justice to the world that Chris Buck and Jennifer Lee have created. More to come.