(AN: Okaaay So this took longer than expected...my apologies. But I promise I will update at least every other month...hopefully once a month. And if the Muse is with me it might even be twice a month! So here we are...getting close to the Mise-en-scène of this op when we first encountered it. It's obvious that our dear Lt. Bradley is smitten with Elsa, but will it be his undoing? What will happen to our boot loot when he finally is reunited with the Snow Witch? And will Prince Hans succeed where he failed before since now he has the help of Kilo Company? Well, read on and find out!)

(Operation Arendelle: T+ 46 hours 54 minutes, Galdhøpiggen Peak, Jotunheimen Mountain, 00:34 hours local time)

Elsa had many titles to her name; Queen of Arendelle, the Ice Witch, the Snow Queen, and others. But now she was just a scared 19 year old girl, her blue eyes wide with fright as she watched her ice palace crumble and melt. The once magnificent edifice was in ruins, with large gaping holes in the walls coughing out steam and chocking smoke.

"Elsa..."

She didn't even hear her name, partly because of the deafening noise of the craft she was riding in, but also because she was still in shock.

"ELSA!"

That got her attention, and she looked into a pair of dark blue eyes that looked worried. She looked down and realized she was still clutching Lt. Bradley's gloved hand.

"Are you alright, Elsa?"

She couldn't speak, but gave a small nod. Bradley glanced around inside the chopper's cabin, sitting opposite him was PFC Gobbi, standing in for a crew chief, and next to him was PVT Davis, with a grim look on his face. Bradley knew why. Pushing the dark thoughts from his mind, the lieutenant reached up and grabbed the headset and put it on. He keyed the mic to speak.

"Thanks for saving our butts, Torrez!"

Sgt. Torrez, the pilot, grinned as he responded.

"Yeah, I wouldn't be so happy to be alive. Sar'ent Wolfe and the Colonel have separate ass-chewings for you."

Bradley shook his head.

"Yeah, I think I'll take it..."

He glanced back at Elsa, who was still staring out the window at the ruins of her palace.

"I'd say it was worth it."

Their conversation was interrupted by a loud clanging noise as a hail of lead peppered the Sea Hawk's airframe.

"Shit! What the fuck was that?!"

PFC Gobbi sprung into action and armed the crew-served minigun. He shouted back.

"We've got company!"

As if to punctuate the sergeant's response a AHJ-6 'Little Bird' chopper rose up from behind the ruined ice palace and opened fire again. Torrez jerked the cyclic hard left, and the Sea Hawk banked sharply to avoid another stream of tracer fire. The bullets tore into what was left of the palace, destroying the buttresses that supported the palace on the side of the mountain. PFC Gobbi's training kicked in and he returned fire from the crew-served port minigun, a few shots hit the 'Little Bird' and it broke off pursuit.

The relief was short-lived, as a storm of arrows flew up into the night air. Bradley could see the coward Prince Hans had fled, but there were still around fifty of his men on the mountainside. Lt. Bradley sprang into action.

"Enemy QRF engaging!"

Gobbi's pivoted the minigun towards the bridge and shouted to Torrez.

"What's the ROE on local hostiles?"

Before Torrez could answer Bradley broke in.

"ROE is lifted, you are cleared hot. If they fire on you, shoot to kill."

Gobbi glanced over to Torrez, who shrugged.

"You heard the loot, take them the fuck out!"

As the private directed his fire towards the men by the bridge Torrez shouted back to Bradley.

"What the fuck happened down there, sir?"

Bradley's eyes momentarily went to Elsa, and remembered seeing Cooper and the other 'Damned' soldiers.

"It's worse than we thought...apparently the Damned are running around in this...well this magic world!"

"Whatdya mean, loot? You ain't sayin' that that prick Captain Pilton is alive?"

The lieutenant nodded.

"Yeah, I wouldn't have believed it, until I saw PFC Cooper in the flesh. He tried...he tried to kill Elsa, said he had orders because she was a dangerous witch."

He paused.

"Sgt. Barrigan was there too, I only saw him from a distance. Lt. Perkins was there too, but as usual he was just in the way."

The mood was interrupted by a loud rockabilly song blaring on speakers in the chopper.

"Gonna tell Aunt Mary 'bout Uncle John

He claim he has the misery but he's havin' a lot of fun
Oh baby, yeah baby, woo
Havin' me some fun tonight, yeah..."

Both Torrez and Bradley looked over to a large boombox that was strapped to one of the overhead bins in the chopper's passenger compartment. Sitting next to it was Davis, who was smiling evilly.

"Thought we could use some lighthearted music as we cut these bastards down, what do ya say, Gobbi?"

PFC Gobbi glanced back and grinned.

"I like it!"

The private let out another stream of tracer fire that cut through the hapless soldiers like a scythe through wheat. He briefly turned his attention to Davis and grinned.

"It's easy to tell who's a baddie and who's not!"

He turned his attention back to the targets and pressed the buttons on the fire control of the minigun, letting out another stream of lead at approximately 2,000 rounds per minute. He called back, his attention still fixed to the tangos on the ground.

"Anyone who runs is a badguy! Anyone who stands still...is a well-disciplined badguy!"

That brought out raucous laughter from PVT Davis and Lt. Bradley as well. Torrez shook his head and switched channels on the radio.

"This is Misfit Three calling Big Bad Wolf, how copy over?"

A gruff voice came through the static.

"Loud and clear, which is equal to the ass-kicking I'm gonna give you if you keep calling me that shit callsign! I've told you before, my callsign is Misfit One Actual."

The sergeant grinned.

"Roger that, Misfit One Actual. Be advised, we have the HVP and Misfit One, we are inbound..."

"...we have the HVP and Misfit One, we are inbound..."

SGM Wolfe felt someone clamping onto his arm, but continued.

"Roger that. Misfit One Actual out."

After he got a squawk in acknowledgement Wolfe set down the radio handset, then tried dislodging the queen's younger sister from him, unsuccessfully.

"Is Elsa alright?! Did she say anything?"

The sergeant major glared at Ana, which had about the same effect as if he were a piece of furniture. It must be some sort of immunity, Wolfe thought.

"The queen is fine, they're going to be here in about twenty minutes."

He ignored whatever the redhead was saying, he was still debating how he was going to chew out Bradley. He didn't know if protocol was to allow his superior officer to do the chewout or if it was a case of first-come, first-served. LTC Long was already asleep, he said he would formally reprimand Bradley in the morning. The old sergeant major shook his head and thought back to the previous day, before the newly-crowned queen of Arendelle was found to be a Snow Witch, and Lt. Bradley blindly followed after her. Back then he thought this mission was a mere shit-show, instead of the shit-spewing dumpster fire that it currently was...

(26 hours earlier, Jotunheimen Mountains, approximately 27 clicks outside Arendelle)

"...Roger that, sir. Be advised, the storm is getting worse, I would hold back until it clears up and we have a secure location for you to land."

"Understood, sergeant. This is Misfit Actual, signing off...good hunting, Wolfe."

SGM Wolfe turned off the long range radio in the HUMVEE and focused on navigating through the forest. The wind was howling and the blowing snow had reduced visibility to a meager few yards. Beside PVT Davis was trying to reach Bradley on his radio.

"I say again, this is Misfit Three calling Misfit One transmitting, how copy?"

Nothing but static greeting the private. He keyed the mic again.

"Loot, this is Davis are you out there?!"

That earned the private a dope slap from the sergeant major.

"Ow! What the fuck, sar'ent?"

Wolfe kept his eyes on the road, but he glared at the windshield as if it were an errant buck private.

"Maintain radio discipline at all times, pri'at...you know better."

Davis shrugged as he pulled off his headset.

"Can't raise the loot on the horn, but you know that already."

SGM Wolfe grumbled something to the effect that the dumbass probably forgot to turn on his radio. The HUMVEE's diesel engine growled as it navigated a snowdrift that came up to its hubs. Fortunately the truck's clearance and tires pulled itself through, and the skill of the driver. Wolfe, however, was still in a foul mood. Partly because the HUMVEE's heater was putting out as much warm air as a hamster breathing heavily on his feet, but mostly due to his companions. Or rather, the latest edition to his companions.

Ana, on the other hand, was in high spirits. Only a few minutes before she was facing down a pack of wolves with only a sharp stick, only for odd envoys from Albion to show up in their mechanized carriage to save her. As it turns out they were also looking for her sister, as well as one of their own. She was currently in the process of telling the dour förste sergeant about her encounter with the dreamy Prince Hans.

Wolfe ignored SPC Mayfield's complaining about being stuck on on the M-2 turret to make room for the new passenger, but he had trouble ignoring the ginger riding in the back with PFC Gobbi, who was prattling on about her true love, Prince Hans. When she finally stopped talking the sergeant major looked in the rear view mirror and growled.

"Lissen princess, I'm a divorced senior NCO who functions on caffeine an' hate, not to mention tears of pri'ats...So it's safe to say I'm pretty cynical when it comes to matters of the heart, an' you can take this shit with a grain of salt. But I can you that if my baby girl brought home some mouth-breathing fucknut and said she just met him at the prom an' told me that it was love at first sight an' they're gonna get married, the last thing that's gonna go through Romeo's head is gonna be a .45 caliber bullet, courtesy of my 1911."

He paused as Ana was staring at him dumbfounded.

"Long story short, I would object to the engagement under the most strenuous terms imaginable."

The princess looked horrified.

"That's horrible!"

PFC Gobbi chimed in.

"Yeah, come on, sarge that's a bit extreme."

Wolfe thought for a moment, then nodded.

"Yer right, I'll stick to my shotgun."

"What!?"

The older sergeant chuckled humorlessly at Princess Ana's reaction.

"It'll be loaded with rock salt, okay, it ain't gonna kill him, but it ain't gonna tickle either."

Mayfield called down from the turret.

"Hey sarge! The storms clearing up a bit, I can see light ahead!"

Wolfe squinted through the frosted windshield. The blowing snow was subsiding a bit, and he could see a cabin in the distance, it's windows lit up like a beacon. He turned to Davis.

"Get Long on the horn and tell him we found a rally point."

"Roger that, sarge!"

Wolfe steered the HUMVEE to the front entrance of the building. It looked like a combination of a trading post and an inn. He turned his attention to Ana.

"Princess, you mind goin' in there an' wait for us in there? We gotta unload some shit."

He paused as he saw her shivering in the cabin, still wearing the tattered remains of her party dress. Wolfe reached behind him and pulled out a woolen military blanket, offering it to her.

"It ain't much, but it'll keep you from freezin' until you get inside."

Ana accepted the blanket gratefully.

"Oh, thank you so much, sir!"

Wolfe's lined face cracked into a slight smile.

"Don't call me sir, I work for a living."

Ana laughed at his jib as she pushed the door open and exited the HUMVEE. For a while Wolfe just wanted as the princess skipped into the outpost, then he turned and glared to the soldiers.

"You shitstains wipe those grins off your faces right now!"

He cleared his throat.

"This goes without saying, but Ana's off limits, period. She's under-aged, and she's royalty."

The sergeant major leaned in, his glare becoming murderous.

"An' if any of you mutherfuckers so much as has impure thoughts about her, I'll rip out yer nutsacks through yer navels."

He opened the door.

"Now hurry up and dismount! I ain't gonna freeze to death out here waitin' on you mouth-breathers."

Oaken sat behind his desk, mournfully fidgeting with the jar of lutefisk. Aside from the oddly dressed man who stopped by two hours earlier there had been no customers. The freak blizzard that came out of nowhere was to blame. Suddenly the wind howled and the man swore he could hear the sound of buzzing that shook the roof of his trading post.

Then a bright light shone through one frosted window. This caught his curiosity, and he stood up from his chair and cautiously opened the door. Some large object in the distance was shining a beam of light to his door, and he saw figures trudging through the snow. Ironically one was a young lady wrapped up in a drab green woolen blanket that she was wearing like a cloak.

"Come! Come in at once, or you'll freeze to death!"

One by one they filed in, stomping their boots on the floor to clomp the snow off of them. The girl was wearing a fancy green ballroom dress that looked ruined by the snow, but there were four other men with her. Their clothes were mix of mossy colors and dark green. One of them approached him and removed his face covering, revealing an older man with a dour expression on his face. Based off his body language around the girl this man must be her father, Oaken thought. The man spoke up in a gruff voice.

"You this trading post's proprietor?"

Oaken nodded uncertainly. The man's demeanor spoke of military.

"Yes?" he said somewhat uncertainly. The dour man responded

"And can you provide lodging for the night?"

Again Oaken nodded. The man glanced back at the other three strangers.

"Good, we are going to need supplies enough to last four men at least three days in the wilderness, and a night's lodging for five."

He paused and glanced over to the girl.

"An' make sure one of those accommodations are private."

He put a hand to his ear, and spoke to himself.

"This is Wolfe, go ahead."

He paused again, then spoke.

"Roger that sir, I'll debrief the men."

Then he turned to address Oaken.

"We'll need use of your barn to shelter our…transportation."

Oaken nodded.

"Yes, yes I can get you all that. But it will cost quite a bit, with the storm and all. Very hard to get supplies!"

The older man answered by dropping a heavy leather pouch on the counter, spilling its golden contents out. Oaken's eyes widened at the pile of gold coins, and picked up one of them up. He bit a corner of it, and it was real gold, and then broke out into a broad grin. He reached under the counter and produced a jar of foul-smelling fish.

"You're welcome to any of my stock, and all the lutefisk you'd like! Also if any of your men looking to settle down and run a trading post I have daughters of marrying age!"

SGM Wolfe shook his head, but then saw the G-Shock watch on the man's massive wrist, and a thought crossed his mind.

"Say, did you have any customers stop by, say one who kinda looked like us?"

Oaken shook his head.

"Oh no sir! Not like you, this I got from Lars, he is a trapper in these woods, he bartered it to me for some snow shoes. He said an odd man traded him this for some furs."

He paused for a moment.

"Come to think of it, he said the man was dressed all in green."

Wolfe chewed on his lower lip as he processed this information. It meant that Lt. Bradley had come through, even if he hadn't passed by this outpost he was certainly in the vicinity. He filed it away for future reference, then turned back to the other two soldiers.

"Defrost yourselves up by that woodstove for a few, then get the HUMVEE covered up. The colonel and the rest are inbound homing in on my IFF, ETA forty mikes. When they get here I want you all to back out there and help Torrez wheel the 'Hawk into the barn. We're going to need to winterize it before we take it out again."

He paused as the wind howled and rattled the rafters.

"And it looks like we're going to have to wait until the storm breaks before going out to search for the loot."

He closed his eyes.

"I sure hope Lt. Bradley's alright."

(At that very moment...)

Marshmallow unceremoniously dumped its prisoner on the ground. Lt. Bradley was disoriented, having been carried upside down for what seemed like an eternity. He looked around, and saw that he was in some sort of castle made of crystallized ice. Bradley was still lying on the floor when he saw Marshmallow leave. The lieutenant glared at the giant snowman's retreating form.

"Thanks a bunch, Frosty. See if I ever give you a magic top hat again."

He then heard a feminine voice bark out a command.

"What are you doing in my realm?"

He pushed himself up on his elbows and saw a slender bare leg right in front of him, that was encased in a glittering blue dress. The owner of the dress was a pale-skinned woman with a platinum blonde braid that appeared to have crystals in it. Her ice-blue eyes regarded him coldly.

"I said, who are you and what are you doing in my kingdom?"

That set off something.

"Elsa? Is that you?"

The Snow Witch cocked her head to one side.

"You know my name? Are you one of the ruffians who were trying to hunt me down?"

She held up a hand conjuring up some ice in a threatening manner. Bradley quickly held up his hand.

"N-no, I'm not! I'm 2nd Lt. Bradley, don't you remember me? I was your dance partner at the coronation."

He saw something flicker in her eyes, then her eyes narrowed.

"Show me your face!" She commanded.

Then the lieutenant remembered he was still wearing furs and a heavy scarf covering his face, he hastily pulled down his scarf. That did the trick, The witch's eyes widened in recognition. He smiled lamely.

"I was the awkward guy who almost stepped on your toes."

Elsa's gaze softened for a moment. Then she spoke.

"B-but what are you doing out here?"

He grinned sheepishly.

"Well, chasing after you, I was afraid something bad would happen to you."

He looked around at the resplendent ice castle's grand hall, with its intricate designs and glittering edifices.

"Although you're doing okay, I see."

She leaned in, presumably to stare at his face, but then she paused and sniffed the air.

"I smell something…something delicious…It's chocolate!"

Bradley remembered the Swedish dark chocolate bar in his vest and he quickly opened up one of the pouches and pulled it out, offering it to her. Elsa's blue eyes widened at the sight, and she snatched it out of his hands. He watched as she fumbled with the foil wrapper, and caught himself ogling.

"Er, I like your new look, Elsa. It's really…cool er, I mean you look beautiful…ah not that you weren't before or anything..."

He saw the Snow Witch giggle at his discomfort as she took a large bite and wiped a bit of chocolate from her mouth.

"You're look so cute when you're flustered...What is your name?"

When Bradley mechanically started reciting his rank she held up a hand and smiled.

"I mean, what is your first name?"

"Oh, ah, it's Eric, ma'am."

"Mmmm, good name…"

Elsa took another bite from the bar and made a small gesture with her free hand, conjuring up an ornate bench made of ice with fluffy crystals for padding and sat on it. She then patted the free spot next to her.

"Please have a seat, Eric."

Bradley complied, and Elsa relaxed, throwing one bare leg over her other. It touched Bradley's leg, and he felt her touch even through his ACU's. She leaned over to look at him.

"So, Eric…you are not afraid of me? Afraid of my powers?"

The lieutenant took one of her hands in his gloved ones.

"No, I mean, you were a good gal back at the palace I knew that just looking at you...er-I mean looking in your eyes..."

He chuckled and shook his head.

"I'm really bad at talking to women, just so you know."

Elsa finished off the chocolate bar and giggled.

"I noticed, Eric."

Bradley smiled.

"Look, I know you're good, and any bad shit that happened wasn't your fault. Fact of the matter was we were dispatched to Arendelle because we thought there was going to be an attempt against your life. I guess our intel was faulty."

He heard a rasping noise and saw that Elsa was playing with the Velcro pocket cover on his sleeve. She looked up at him.

"But you are strangely dressed...even back at the palace your dress uniform was odd. Even taking into account that English king's court mage, nothing that have, not that four-wheeled carriage that moved on its own, or your clothes seem anything like this world."

Elsa looked directly at him, her blue eyes boring into him.

"What are you?"

She softened her gaze and smiled.

"I mean, I know you're human...But where are you from?"

Bradley gulped and took a deep breath. Not for the last time he wished that either 1SG Crosby or LTC Long was here.

"Well Elsa, it's a long story..."

Glossary:

ROE: Rules of Engagement, the internal rules or directives among military forces (including individuals) that define the circumstances, conditions, degree, and manner in which the use of deadly force, or actions which might be construed as provocative, may be applied. In this instance Lt. Bradley is basically giving PFC Gobbi free reign to rain lead down on Hans' men.