Author's note: this story is purely based on my imagination. It may not follow the Arthurian legend, and it's not meant to do so neither. I do not own frozen nor Merlin, but some of the characters are mine.

I hope you enjoy this FanFiction. I do appreciate reviews.

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Prologue: Time waits for no one.

Some 100 years before the main events in Merlin

In a world not unlike ours there lived a noble race of beings known as dragons. Though these dragons are not like the ones most people know from legend and folklore. They were large beasts, kings of the skies. Beasts whose flames could ignite the mightiest forests ablaze and whose roars could shake the sturdiest mountains. For years there had been a war between the dragons and the people of Albion.

Allard lay in bed, thinking back on the events that defined his life.

His youth had been perilous, with the constant warfare throughout the five kingdoms.

The war had been a bloody affair.

War, he thought, isn't just about death. War wasn't just about the soldiers who died on a battlefield. Nor was it about the heroes who came home battered and broken. War, he thought, was about the people who were left behind to tend to the fields and maintain the homes. It was about the wives who mourned their dead husbands, the children who would have to grow up without their fathers, the parents who lost their precious sons to sword or arrow. War, as he had come to learn while he fought at the frontlines, was about the innocent. The people who found themselves unwittingly caught between two opposing forces and made to pay for their acrimonious hostility towards one another.

When his own father passed, he inherited his abilities and became the next Dragon Lord with a single purpose: to help the King put an end to this constant warfare between the dragons and the knights. It had taken years to accomplish, and he had forged a magical sword for the King in order to end the conflicts.

Allard's loyalty had always been to the King. And the King regardless him as a trustworthy friend.

The King was unaware of Allard's great powers, and also unaware of the fact that Allard's powers had been vital to end the wars, and that the sword he had been given had amplified that magic. In the first battles, he had hesitated to use his magic, and he regretted that he had acted so cowardly back then.

Yes, the King's men had won, but it had cost them dearly. As their crusade progressed, he began to use his magic to fight; the King's armies stopped losing men, and the powers he had unleashed during battle struck fear into his opponents. By the end, the last dragons surrendered without a fight.

His next actions created the lasting peace: he advised the King to forgive all who fought against him, so long as their kingdoms swore themselves to Albion, thus creating the Order of the Knights. The kings of the conquered territories were given Lordships over those territories, to rule as they saw fit so long as they obeyed and enforced the King's laws above all. Those who fought with him he allowed to remain free, with the option of joining the Order of the Knights peacefully at any time if they so chose.

An important ally had been found far north in the Kingdom of Arendelle. The King there had sent his knights to Albion to defend the Kingdom from any attack. In gratitude, the King of Albion had offered Arendelle almost anything they wanted, only to be refused. Arendelle's King's excuse was that, so long as the endless fighting ceased, the victory would be reward enough.

And now the wars had finally ended, and the King had ruled fairly, justly, and compassionately for many years.

The peace still lasted to this day. His son had done much to ensure it, growing as a warlock and researching dragons. His son had also become a good friend of the crown prince. When the time came for his son to ascend as the Dragon Lord, he had a large network of friends and allies to call upon should he need them. Allard had offered the magical sword he had forged to the Royal family, calling it an emblem of the King.

Now, his time was nearing the end. He had made his way to the Kingdom of Arendelle in order to bid farewell to a loyal friend. Friends who had supported and aided him throughout the Great War.

And now he felt afraid. Allard was not worried for himself, but for his successors.

"Old friend, are you still here?" He asked the darkness.

Suddenly, the moss covered stones began to roll and converge on him. The rocks sprouted limbs and faces; the trolls were awake.

An old troll recognized Allard, and waddled closer. "It's been too long, Allard, it's good to see you." He greeted the man with a smile.

"It's good to see you too, Pabbie." He paused. "I've got so many questions in my mind," his face twisted in pain.

"Then do ask,"

"Will the peace last? Have I done enough to secure the future for my family? Does my son have what it takes in order to become the next Dragon Lord?"

"The peace will last for many, many years to come, and this great kingdom you have forged will grow as well." he paused. "And you have done more than enough for your family." He rasped, "There is no need to worry about your son, he is as ready as he'll ever be to become the next Dragon Lord," his fire crystals glowing brightly. " But," he paused for a moment, "there is a prophecy that will be fulfilled."

Allard squeezed his eyes shut "I'm all ears, Pabbie" he whispered, his voice was full of sadness.

He threw dust into the air that conjured images that bounced around the sky.

Allard gasped as he opened his eyes to see what was going on.

"There will be small engagements from time to time, but nothing like the widespread warfare you have ended. In time, however, a battle will rise that will challenge the peace that has been established. Many kingdoms will be involved, and it will come in many waves, "

Pabbie paused, attempting to put the images into words. The visions and omens came to him with varying degrees of clarity, and verbalizing them was a task that varied just as much. This hadn't been as clear as others, but it was enough to get a rough meaning out of them

"Your bloodline will be part of the answer to that great battle," the troll continued. "Your bloodline will give birth to the Greatest Warlock Albion has ever seen, and while powerful, he will not be able to stand alone. His success or failure will depend on a Queen of Ice from the north, and they will either become the protectors of the realm by joining, or the destroyers of it by opposing each other."

"And if the two of them join forces, will they see the peace return?" Allard asked, his expression of concern matched the elder's.

"It's hard to say, "

Allard looked up at the shifting colors and hoped they'd somehow provide the elder with a clearer message.

"though they would not rule over it. That would fall to one who carries your name," the old troll replied. "He will rule over that peace as you have ruled over this, if it returns."

A faint smile spread across Allard's face, and then lifted a journal from his chest. "So please see to it that he gets this undamaged." He held it out in the dim light. Looking at it, Pabbie saw that it was his personal journal. "I hope it may be of use to him."

The troll took the journal and tucked it away. "You have my word, Allard. Old friend, do you require any more assistance?"

"No, Pabbie," Allard replied, voice hoarse. "I don't have long left. Thank you, for always supporting me, old friend." With that, the Great Warlock passed into sleep, never to awake again.

Pabbie lightly stroked the man's hand. "You are most welcome, old friend. I'm sad to see you go, but glad you aren't in any pain. I'll remember you always," He turned and left the room, closing the secret passageway behind himself. "I'll make sure that your namesake will get this book, you have my word."