Prologue: Winter is Coming
It was a warm night. The pines groaned, ancient trunks swaying with the rise and fall of the wind. The sky was crystal clear, leaving the moon free to shine its ethereal light like a second sun, blocking out all but the brightest of stars. The eternal snow on the high mountain peaks reflected the moonlight, twinkling like a blanket of diamonds across the sharp slopes.
In the Valley of the Living Rock the trolls slept. To the untrained eye they appeard a jumble of inconspicuous moss-covered boulders, motionless amidst the gentle hissing of the geothermal vents that dotted their home. To those who knew better, they were merely the resting forms of the valley's ancient residents.
One boulder bearing a substantial coating of dry grass slowly unfurled itself, revealing the oldest and wisest troll among the mountain troll clan. Grand Pabbie rubbed his eyes sloppily, wondering what roused him from his slumber. For the elder troll to wake at this hour, much less at all, was a rare occurrence. After all, this was someone who once slept through a tree falling on him.
"Wha' in the world?" he yawned sleepily. He stretched his arms as he scanned for whatever disturbed him. He was sure he felt a presence, but there was nothing out of place he could discern. His scattered sleeping family remained motionless, their moss coverings green as ever. Steam rose from the vents, quietly disappearing into the air. Nope, nothing out of the ordinary. Everything was as it should be.
"Must've been my imagination," he mumbled to himself. He gave a yawn and smacked his lips, curling back into a ball. Within minutes he was heading back into slumber.
That was when he felt it.
There was a magical presence approaching, and rapidly. It was a sensation beyond what the five mortal senses could detect. Grand Pabbie felt it in a way that had nothing to do with his skin. It was an intangible pressure those versed in the ways of magic could detect.
But not just any presence. It was ancient and powerful, far too strong to be coincidence. This sorcerer wanted him to notice. Yet neither the magnitude nor rapid approach of this presence was the true reason this midnight visitor had jolted him wide-awake. If it were most others the troll would brush it off and stay asleep, or at least tell them to come back in a month or so when he was rested.
No, he knew this sorcerer. He knew him well, as did the elder before him and the elder before them. He had been a comrade of the mountain trolls since long before Grand Pabbie first became elder. And though this sorcerer rarely ventured into the world, he had been notably absent from it for a very long time now. What was he doing here tonight?
Grand Pabbie started running from troll to troll, rapping them sharply as he went. "Everybody wake up! Up! Up! Quickly now!"
One by one the boulders came to life as the trolls awoke, stretching and yawning loudly. Those that roused began waking their neighbors as Grand Pabbie continued rousing his people from their long sleep.
"What's going on, Grand Pabbie?" asked a particularly round and sleepy troll. "Why'd you get us up at this forsaken hour?"
"We have a visitor!" exclaimed Pabbie as he worked to keep one of his grandchildren from drifting back to sleep. "Quick! Make yourselves presentable!"
"Is it Kristoff?" asked a female troll excitedly.
Immediately many of the trolls woke up, thrilled at the prospect of a visit from their adoptive son even if it was the dead of night.
"No, it's not Kristoff," said Grand Pabbie, earning disappointed moans from the trolls. "You know well as I do he's in Arendelle this week."
"Then who is it?" asked a troll.
There was a sound of heavy wing beats. A large black raven swooped out of the sky and landed in the center of the trolls. It was unusually large for a raven, standing over two feet tall. Were it any other bird the trolls would not have paid it much attention unless it started trying to steal the crystals they wore, as so many local corvids were inclined to do.
But this was no ordinary raven. This bird's very being was magic. Its body was made of charcoal and fire. Glowing orange and red lines were etched all across its feathers like threads of firelight, flickering like coals in a fire. The lines converged on four orange eyes that glowed with the low light of embers. It had none of the twitching anxious movements of a normal raven, holding itself tall and noble.
The startled trolls backed away, unnerved by the unnatural bird as it surveyed them with unblinking eyes. It ruffled its feathers, sending out a shower of sparks that made them retreat further.
"Let me through! Move aside please! Let me through!" Grand Pabbie shoved his way as politely as possible through his kin until he stumbled out to come face to face with the raven. His eyes widened in surprise.
"Grace my grasses! It is you!" He bowed low to the bird, an oddly formal gesture for one so fond of the informal. "A pleasure to see you again, my lord."
"Good to see you as well, old friend," said the raven, his voice deep and rolling as thunder, returning the gesture with a bow of his head. His beak moved out of sync with his words, adding to his ominous air. "Again I ask you not to call me by such honorifics. You know my disfavor of them."
One of the younger trolls peeked out from behind her mother, gently pulling on her mossy coat. "Mama, who's th' scary bird Gran' Pabbie's talking to?"
The raven fixed a burning eye on the youngster, causing her to retreat behind her mother's back. The corners of his beak curled upwards in a faint smile. "I have many names, child. Some forgotten and lost. Others you've no doubt heard. But there is only one name I call my own. I am…"
A strong wind swept through the valley then. The raven's voice was obscured among the rustle of trees, the whistle of wind through their branches, and the ever present hiss of the steam vents.
There was not a single troll that did not step back or gasp. They recognized the name, but not him! Surely not! He was a legend! A myth! A story Grand Pabbie told to entertain the younglings at night! And even if he were real, how could he still be alive in this day and age? How could any such beings still exist in this world? Yet there was no doubt there was more history than fiction to this story of Grand Pabbie.
The trolls fell to their knees in equal parts reverence and fear, heads pressed to the ground as they trembled.
"Rise!" barked the bird sharply, his eyes flashing bright as he swept a wing aside. "Do not prostrate yourselves so mindlessly! You are not my subjects, nor I your ruler! If you wish to show respect, then do so on your feet! All of you!"
Hesitantly the trolls rose, confused by the bird's contempt for their manners.
"You'll have to forgive them," said Grand Pabbie. "It's been a very long time since you were last here. Most only know you from legends."
"Legends to them. History to you and I," said the raven. "What's it been now, eighty–no, ninety winters since I visited this land?"
Pabbie smiled nostalgically. "At least. Where have you been all this time? Your magic has been absent for nearly two hundred seasons now. I was starting to think your stone finally stopped rolling."
The raven shook his head. "Not yet. I live, but I would not call my current circumstances 'living.' I now carry a shadow of my powers, and I will not have them again till I am freed.
Grand Pabbie's brow furrowed. "Freed? You are a prisoner?"
The raven nodded. "Of my race's last and greatest sin…and my own."
Grand Pabbie's eyes widened in alarm. "The trident? You found it? It survived?"
"With the merfolk of Atlantica," said the Raven. "It was in their possession millenia before I was aware of it."
Grand Pabbie did not miss the raven's emphasis. "Was? What do you mean was?"
"It has been destroyed."
The strength left the troll's legs for a moment, causing him to stagger. "Destroyed!? But how?"
"How is not important. What is are the circumstances that caused it." The raven's air became stern and morbid, his form heating the air around him. "Surely you have felt it. A dark and violent evil from the south, razing land and lives without regard."
Grand Pabbie scowled, his stony hand clenching tight. "I know the ones you speak of."
"They are coming," said the raven. "They are preparing to spread their poison throughout the west. Then to the continent. Then beyond. If not stopped, they will bring about a war that will cover this world in darkness."
Grand Pabbie tensed. "Elsa…she's the reason you've come, isn't she? You want to use her powers against them?"
The raven nodded. "I would not if there was another way. But we do not have that luxury anymore. She is too valuable a blade to leave sheathed. You know well as I do what she could be capable of."
Grand Pabbie turned to the trolls. "Leave us."
It was not a request. The trolls hesitantly wandered off, more than a few lingering in hopes of catching a few words. A harsh glance from the elder troll ended such hopes. Pabbie waited until he was sure every troll was out of earshot before he turned back to the raven. "Are we alone?"
"A moment." The raven's eyes glowed yellow as the lines on his body swelled with light. Then the light faded. "Yes, we are. No ears shall hear us but our own."
Grand Pabbie knew the raven was not just referring to the trolls. There were fouler, darker, more ancient things in the night that did not need ears to listen. He crossed his legs and sat, his face turning somber as stone. "Tell me everything."
At the southern end of Arendelle's fjord stood a forest of elm, spruce, and pine. The majestic trees thrive in Arendelle's fertile summers and chilly winters, creating a dense canopy of green. Moonlight slipped through the branches in fine beams of silver. Fireflies zipped through the ancient stands like living sparks, casting faint fleeting shadows through the dim. It was an old and quiet place. Magical even.
The snapping of twigs and clop of hooves broke the silence of the forest as three hooded women and a horse walked along a narrow game trail. Two of them were on foot while the third rode atop a magnificent black stallion fit for a royalty. None of them looked remotely royal. Their heavy gray cloaks were dirty and ragged from weeks of travel, the hems so torn along the edges that it looked like packs of dogs had chewed upon them. Their packs were heavily patched and ragged, slack with the dearth of contents.
A passing bush snagged the leader's cloak, pulling it back enough to reveal a tattered sleeveless brown tunic and loose black pants on an athletically slim female frame. A pair of knives were sheathed at the small of her back, and a straight-bladed bokken of matte black wood was thrust through her leather belt. Her boots were worn and showed obvious signs of repair. Around her neck was wrapped a green and black patterned shemagh. She stepped over a root, causing a small glass marble containing a flame inside to slip out from beneath the cloth. It gave off a faint glow, briefly illuminating the leader's mouth. She quickly stuffed it back under her tunic.
The woman behind her wore a similar gray cloak that was a bit too short. The skirt of her deep maroon dress was in need of repairs, ripped and frayed throughout. Her cloak snagged on the same bush as she walked past, revealing a poorly repaired bodice of the same color over a dirty white blouse. A marble similar to the one the leader wore hung from her neck, but instead of fire it held a drop of sky-blue water. The fluid moved with a mind of its own, swirling gently out of rhythm with her pace. Her steps were harsh and tired compared to the silent sure ones of the leader, and her breath was slightly labored.
It was the woman atop the horse, however, that made this group so noteworthy. She rode sidesaddle, legs draped over the horse's right side. Her cloak draped over the rump of the horse like a cape, her blue skirt and black bodice marked by dirt, dust, horsehair, and even flecks of blood. It was too long for her legs, the skirt trailing to below the horse's chest.
But if you were to somehow chance a peek underneath that skirt you would not find legs, but a mermaid's jade green tail.
Several strands of vibrant red hair slipped out from under the rider's hood, standing out against her cloak like threads of ruby. She quickly tucked them back, afraid that even in these quiet woods someone could be watching.
"Are we there yet?" asked the trailing woman as she avoided tripping over a root.
The leader sniffed the air. "I can smell ocean. Shouldn't be much further."
"Thank goodness," said the rider, looking forward to a dip. "My scales are so dry."
The leader pushed through a dense patch of brush then abruptly stopped, causing her companions to come to a jarring halt. She signaled to them for silence, listening to for something they could not hear.
"What is it?" asked the rider.
The leader drew her bokken, grasping the handle firmly. She began creeping forward, her footsteps as careful and quiet as a cat stalking prey. The others watched with bated breath as she came to a wall of young pines, their branches forming a barrier of springy stems and green needles. She turned back to her companions. The hood obscured her face, but a pair of luminous golden amber eyes was visible inside the shadow it cast.
"Wait here," she whispered before pushing through the coniferous wall. The others watched as she disappeared into the thicket. The only traces of her presence were the sounds of rustling branches and snapping wood. Then it went silent.
The seconds stretched themselves out agonizingly. An owl hooted in the distance, its call carrying unnervingly far in the forest. The stallion shifted nervously, ears swiveling around to pick out the faintest of sounds as his flared nostrils searched for any scent of danger. The rider and her companion were growing increasingly anxious by the second. Every sound made them tense further, tightening already wound nerves like the spring on a fretter's pocket watch.
There was the snapping of branches as something came rushing at them through the pine thicket. The young woman backed up to the horse, clutching the reins as though it would provide her with some safety. The snapping swelled in volume until suddenly the young trees parted, the familiar hood of their leader popping through.
"Guess what?" said the leader excitedly. "We're–whoa!" Her toe caught on an exposed root. She gave a startled yelp, arms flailing wildly before falling face first into the dirt.
Her companion rushed over. "Are you okay, Lara?"
The leader's hood fell back as she rolled over, a beam of moonlight illuminating her face. She was an attractive young woman of twenty-one years with fair features that perfectly accented her oval face. Her waist-length straight hair was a blazing orange color, giving it the look of metal softened in the heat of a furnace. A pair of black goggles sat atop of her head like a hair band, some of it escaping the confines of the band to frame her face. Her golden eyes had a faint ring of copper orange near the pupil. A pale scar ran across her right eye, extending from her forehead down to her cheek. She also had a plethora of piercings, each one like polished obsidian. A single labret pierced her lower lip, and a pair of vertical barbells pierced each of her eyebrows. Each of her ears bore two small rings just above the lobe and a set of four inch-long spikes through the helices. Her beauty seemed as ethereal as it was unpredictably dangerous, like a leopard hunting in the grass.
"Heh…oops," said Lara, scratching the back of her neck in embarrassment as she got to her feet. "Didn't see the root there."
Her companion pulled back her hood. A young woman with straight black hair held back in a low ponytail revealed herself to the night. At nineteen years old Princess Melody had turned into a beauty in her own right. Her hair was greasy and dirt spotted her face, but her blue eyes were crystal clear and her soft features lost none of their grace from the lack of bathing.
"You can see in the dark and almost lift a house on your own. How did a tree root lay you out?" asked Melody, one of her eyebrows arching up incredulously.
Lara gave a mocking frown. "Hey, you tripped half a dozen times in the last hour! I'm allowed at least one!"
"All right, that's enough you two," said the rider. She pulled off her own hood, revealing the radiant red hair and enchanting features of Queen Ariel—or rather, Princess Ariel. Barely two months ago she had been on the cusp of thirty-seven. Not that time had done anything to diminish her beauty, but it still left its marks on her in intangible ways. Now she was square in the middle of sixteen, no different than she was before the events that led her to life on the land. Her rediscovered youth was no blessing, however. It was a curse forced upon her, years stolen away from her.
"Lara, what did you find?" asked Ariel.
"Oh, right!" Lara jumped to her feet and grabbed Melody's hand. "Come on!"
Next thing Melody knew Lara pulled her through the trees, forcing the princess to cover her face against stinging bunches of pine needles and the occasional branch. "Ack! Lara, wait!" she shouted as she narrowly avoided a low-hanging pinecone. She could hear the clop-clop of the horse trailing behind. "Slow down! I can't–pffft!–see!"
Lara ignored her and kept going. "Hang on! Just a bit further!"
Melody was about to dig her heels in when they broke out of the thicket. She felt the ground change under her feet, becoming sandy and then rocky and unstable as water. And speaking of water, she could hear waves rolling onto a shore. She bent over, spitting out pine needles from her mouth and removing more from her hair.
"What–bleugh!–was so important that you had to–ack!–drag me through that?"
Lara set her hands on her hips and gestured before her, a lopsided grin on her face. "We're here."
Melody looked up. The forest was gone. She was standing on a beach of uncountable smooth stones at the shores of an enormous fjord. Behind them was a sandy opening abutting the woods, small bunches of grass and brush dotting the tan earth. The black crystal waters abutted sheer-faced cliffs on one side, a distant narrow channel leading out to the sea. The lights of Arendelle shone against the side of the mountains like a hundred clustered stars fallen to the land. The castle stood majestic in the moonlight, its proud spires waving the purple and green pennants of the kingdom. The sounds of life were barely a murmur at this distance, but still audible to the ear. It was the first sign of human life they had seen in almost a month.
Ariel rode out of the forest to join them, her horse's hooves sinking between the stones as she brought him to a stop.
"Is that it, Mom?" asked Melody as she stared across the fjord to the windows of the castle.
Ariel nodded. "That's Arendelle. Just like I remember it."
"And hopefully our ride north," added Lara. She turned back to the forest, listening for any sign that they had been followed. Hearing and seeing nothing she went back to the sands and dropped her pack. "Mel, let's set camp."
"We're not going into town?" asked Melody, a little disappointed at the prospect of not sleeping in an actual bed that night.
"Tomorrow," said Lara as she helped Ariel off the stallion. She carried her to the water's edge and gently set her down. Ariel quickly discarded her dress overhead and dove into the water, disappearing with a quiet splash. She surfaced again moments later, lying on her back. She closed her eyes and sighed, relishing the feeling of the ocean against her skin and scales.
"We'll go into town first thing in the morning," added Lara as she started untying Ariel's pack from the saddle. "We'll restock, find a ship north, and hopefully pick up some information. Then we get as far away from here as we can. Remember, we're not here for a vacation. The fewer people that see us, the better for everyone."
Melody sighed. "I know. It's just…"
She knew Lara was right. They needed to avoid towns and cities as much as possible. If Arendelle knew what they were running from, they would not let them within a hundred miles of their kingdom. The events in Sängril had shaken the pursuers off their trail, but there was no telling if or when they would pick it up again. Complicating matters further was that they did not know just how far their enemy's influence had spread. For all they knew Arendelle could be crawling with them.
Ariel allowed the waves to beach her, staying low so the surf could still wash over her. "What should I do?" she asked, arching her head to back at Lara. "I could go around the docks. See if I can eavesdrop on something."
"Too risky," said Lara as she pulled Ariel's pack down. "You need to–ow!"
Lara jumped as the horse reached around and nipped her right in the rump. She spun on her heel, glaring angrily at him as she rubbed her smarting cheek. "What the heck, Tempest?!"
The stallion snorted at her, gesturing with his snout to Ariel's pack.
"No! She doesn't have any more!" said Lara. The horse gave her a disbelieving look. "You ate the last of your share this morning? And I emphasize yours! As in the rest are ours!"
Melody reached into her pack and extracted a large red apple. "He can have one of mine."
She set her pack down and walked over to the horse, holding it out for him to take. The stallion licked his lips and reached out to take a bite, but Lara pushed Melody's hand out of the way so all he bit was air.
"Save it for yourself," said Lara as she loosened the saddle's cinch. "We don't need him getting spoiled. Or fat."
The stallion shot a look at Lara and swatted her with his tail, the coarse hair stinging her face.
Ariel laughed at the horse's antics. "Oh, let him have it, Lara. He did such a good job carrying me today. He was even smoother than usual."
The stallion neighed proudly, enjoying the flattery to its fullest.
Lara was about to say "no" when she saw Ariel's face. She was making that pleading face she could never refuse. Those ocean blue eyes and slightly pouty lip combined with that innocent face upside down were too much even for her steely nerves. She sighed in defeat. "All right, fine. But just the one."
Melody offered out the apple to the stallion again, who delightedly bit it in half. In seconds he gobbled up the remainder, chewing contently.
"And if he does get fat I'm blaming you," grumbled Lara.
The horse snorted at her comment then went off to graze on the grass nearby. Ariel gave a laugh and rolled onto her stomach, resting her chin on her hands as she watched Lara start collecting firewood while Melody set out what they needed for dinner.
"Speaking of not drawing attention, Lara," said Ariel, lazily curling her fins. "Your hair."
Lara looked up at her hair. "What about it?"
"It's lovely and all, but it…" Ariel made a face as she sought the best words to make her point without being rude. "Well, it stands out. A lot."
"Mom's right, Lara," said Melody as she started cutting up what little bread and cheese they had left. "Same goes for your eyes. There aren't a lot of orange-haired women with eyes like yours running around the world. People would remember someone like that. The fewer people that see us, the better. Remember?"
Lara set her firewood down and walked to the edge of the water. Even in the swells she could see her how distinctive her features were. They were right. There was no way she could go into Arendelle looking like this. Melody could walk into Arendelle the next minute and no one would remember her. But Lara was practically screaming for attention just walking down the street in her current state. It would be better if she got rid of her facial piercings as well.
If she did that, however, people would definitely remember her. At worst, they would try to kill her.
"Looks like a makeover is in order then." She stepped back from the water, rubbing her hands together as she prepared herself for what came next. She closed her eyes, forming the image in her mind and holding it. "Diffingo."
A bright heatless white flame erupted from Lara's scalp, quickly passing over her hair. The fiery oranges turned into earthy browns as it went. Light flashed under her eyelids and she winced at the sting the spell caused. The fire reached the tips of her hair and went out, leaving a small wisp of smoke as she opened her eyes.
"How's it look?" she asked, stepping back to the water's edge.
"You've never looked more normal," said Melody, intending it as a compliment.
Lara bent over the water, examining her reflection. Her golden eyes had become as earthly brown as her hair, and her piercings were polished silver instead of black obsidian. She sighed, missing her natural colors already. There was nothing wrong with brown hair or eyes. She hid with those colors for a long time before this journey even started. It just was not her.
But considering who and what was pursuing them, Lara knew personal tastes were a small sacrifice for being inconspicuous. They all had sacrificed so much already. Friends and families were left to flee for their lives, or worse, in the monstrous hands of the enemy. Their homes were nothing but charred rubble and bloodstained ruins. They had nothing of their former lives except their memories. Their only belongings were the clothes they wore and the contents of their packs. They had no friends, no allies, no comrades beyond themselves and the few who escaped the slaughter, now hiding far away from the hearts of their former kingdoms. As for Ariel's now captive family, there was no guarantee they were still alive.
Lara picked up a rock and threw it. Her unnatural strength showed itself as the rock went shooting across the water like a bullet, skipping far into the sea. All hope was riding on this quest into the north. Somewhere in those ancient lands was their one chance to destroy this evil and restore Melody and Ariel's home. If they failed, there would be no miracle. There would be no salvation.
It was not a matter of if they would make it. They had to make it.
Lara picked up another rock. She stared at the smooth gray stone and then clenched her hand around it, knuckles popping with her strength as the anger inside her burned. The rock cracked in her hand, sharp edges digging into her skin.
"You're gonna pay, Maelstrom," she whispered to herself. "You're gonna pay for everything."
Elsa could not sleep.
She turned onto her back in pursuit of a comfortable position, only to find it no better than her previous one. She had been tossing and turning for hours now. Her pillow was damp with nervous sweat. Her legs refused to stay still, demanding she move every few minutes. Not just her body was restless. Her mind was no less fretful, thoughts running through it with no indication of permitting her the serenity of sleep. She sat upright, resting her forehead in her palms.
Tomorrow was the day. Tomorrow was her coronation. Tomorrow Princess Elsa of Arendelle would cease to exist, and Queen Elsa of Arendelle would take her place. She was about to become a queen.
It would be a source of celebration to anyone else. To Elsa, however, it was one of the worst things she could imagine. Standing on that dais with hundreds of eyes fixed on her and nowhere to hide or run to. It was as though someone tailor-made a nightmare to her worst fears. Her chest constricted at the thought of all those dignitaries, nobles, ambassadors and townsfolk with their eyes focused solely on her. She would be the center of attention. If she lost control in front of her entire court–or worse, in front Anna…
Before she could stop it a layer of frost spread over her sheets. Elsa quickly abandoned her bed, her blue nightgown already freezing at the hems as the frost encased her mattress. She backed into the wall, hands slapping the blue and white wallpaper loudly. Instantly ice leapt from her fingertips, crackling and branching over the wall as it spread like ink on a page.
Elsa retreated to the middle of the room, trying to bring her panic under control as her magic stormed inside her. It was pushing against her restraint, demanding that she release it. She recited her mantra again and again as she fought to keep the power contained, eyes screwed shut in concentration.
"Conceal. Don't feel. Don't let it show. Conceal. Don't feel. Don't let them know," she whispered to herself. Slowly her breathing came back to normal and the storm within quieted, receding to that unreachable source within her. She kept repeating until she felt it go asleep once more. For a time, at least. Slowly she opened her eyes, bracing to survey the damage her most recent outburst had caused.
Her bed was completely frosted over, glinting in the moonlight with a fine layer of ice crystals. The spots where she touched the walls still had ice spreading out, that familiar snowflake fractal pattern growing within it. Even her footsteps had left icy tracks over the floor.
Elsa needed air, not just for her nerves but to melt the ice as well. She flung her balcony doors open and walked out, letting the warm summer air into her frigid room. She looked out over the fjord, forcing herself not to look at the town. It only made her nervous, which made her magic even less compliant.
The sight of the fjord did not give her solace either. Ships from kingdoms far and wide were anchored in the waters, creating a flotilla of Arendelle's allies. There was a ship from Weselton, their closest trading partner. Next to it was one from the Southern Isles. She saw no ship bearing the pennant of Seahaven, their furthest ally. Nor did she see the flag of Corona on any ships, the kingdom of her father's youngest sister–the queen of Corona. Apparently she was sending her long-lost cousin and her new husband in her place. It should have filled Elsa with joy to know she would have family at the coronation, but right then all she felt was dread.
She leaned heavily on the railing, running her fingers through her hair. As of tomorrow she would no longer be just a symbol to these people. She would be their queen, the person they looked to for guidance and protection. It would be her duty to uphold the laws of the land and ensure peace and justice reigned in Arendelle.
She sighed heavily, shaking her head. Her, queen of Arendelle? Protector of the people? Keeper of the peace? What a joke. How could she keep peace in an entire kingdom when she could not even keep peace within herself? How could she protect them when she was the one they needed protection from?
A flicker of light on the farthest southern shore of the fjord caught Elsa's eye. She straightened up, walking to the edge of the balcony. The light was still there. For a moment she thought it was a campfire. But she had never seen a fire burn with such a contained radiance, or such a brilliant shade of white. And there was something more to it. Something was pushing against Elsa, but it was not a physical force. It was like walking by a room with a fireplace and feeling the faintest heat on her skin as she passed. And it was coming from that light. What could be causing it?
Crk…rk–crk!
Elsa was prevented from pondering the source of the light further when she heard the familiar creaking and cracking of forming ice. Her eyes snapped down to see it crawling out of her hands and over the wooden railing like cracks over glass. She yanked her hands away, quickly backing into her room. Her heel caught the edge of a rug and she tripped backwards. She gave a startled yelp and threw her hands out, barely managing to catch herself in time. Instantly the rug was frozen solid, turned to a rigid sheet as ice encased the majority of the balcony rail in a star of frost and ice.
Elsa scooted back to the foot of her bed, hugging her knees in tight as she felt panic start to claw at her. Tomorrow she would be queen. It was unavoidable. But she did not feel like a queen. She felt like a little girl, afraid and hiding in her room like she had been for the last thirteen years. This castle was her prison and her haven. Here she was safe, but more importantly so was everyone else.
And Anna. Especially Anna. Elsa could not bear the thought of hurting her again. She would never be able to forgive herself if that happened. If this loneliness was what it took to keep everyone safe, then this was where she would remain. Behind the castle gates, isolated and alone for her days.
So very alone.
Cold tears began leaking from her eyes as she did her best to conceal her quiet sobs of helplessness. She buried her face in her knees, the ice bearing silent witness to her despair.
It would seem impossible that a stone could change color on its own. Yet anyone who looked at Grand Pabbie would say the troll was a few shades whiter. His grass trembled and his eyes brimmed with disbelief and horror.
"By my moss!" he uttered. "This cannot be true!"
"It is," said the raven gravely. "I saw it with my own eyes."
"But five kingdoms in a single day! It's unheard of!"
"So is this enemy," said the raven. "This is a breed of evil unlike any these lands have known. Family, comrades, love, honor, justice—they take genuine pleasure in destroying them and those who value such things. Steel, magic, and terror are their weapons of choice, and they have proven their willingness to use them. This is the perfect enemy for such a peaceful world."
Grand Pabbie frowned, lacing his fingers behind his back. "This bodes ill for Arendelle. I know little of how Elsa's powers have progressed in the last three years, but I fear she has not gained much. She will not be able to oppose these barbarians. If they set their sights on Arendelle it will be a slaughter."
The raven flew over to perch on a rock. "There is an even greater danger to consider. If Elsa were to fall into their hands, or perhaps join them of her own will..."
"Elsa would never join them!" Grand Pabbie interrupted loudly. "She may be scared and lacking in tutelage, but her heart is good and her intentions noble! Elsa would never turn her back on Arendelle!"
"I do not doubt your faith in the girl," said the raven calmly. "Only her faith in herself. If she does not come to terms with these powers, she may yet become one of their victims. Or worse, one of their specimens."
Grand Pabbie rubbed his eyes. This was too much to take in at once. Never did he know of such a foe except in the stories of the Lost Ages. For an organization of such power and heinous intent to rise up in this age was as alarming as it was horrifying. If they got to Arendelle, or to Elsa and Anna–no, he did not want to imagine what they would do to those girls. It was too terrible to imagine.
"What do we do? What can we do?" he asked, more to himself than to the raven.
"Have courage, my friend," said the raven. "There are dark days ahead, but they are not end days. There is still hope for Elsa, as well Arendelle. She is not as alone as she believes."
Pabbie snapped his head up. "What? There is another?"
"No, Elsa is indeed the only of her kind. But as I said, she is not alone." The raven spread its wings and took off, ascending straight into the sky. "Be on the lookout for the Queen! Depending on how these coming days unfold there may be hope for her, but if not..."
"What? What if she can't help her?" called Grand Pabbie nervously.
The raven began to disintegrate into sparks and smoke, becoming a cloud of black smoke and ash. "Let us hope it does not come to that!"
A/N: So this is my second fanfic. It's crossed over with another fanfic I am writing for "The Little Mermaid." I was planning to finish that before I started this, but after seeing Frozen I couldn't help it! I just had to start writing!
Your comments/thoughts/constructive criticism is appreciated and welcome. Bashing will only be ignored or reported.
Disclaimer: I do not own "The Little Mermaid," "Frozen," or any of Disney's intellectual property. Everything else, however, is mine =).