0600, July 19th, 1840

Royal Palace, Arendelle

Malkom peeled potatoes as he sat and watched the other prisoners build a large sandbag mound for the 3rd time today, wondering why he had been singled out for the light duty while the traitors did what they did. In the past the Guards made no such distinction in duty assignment, though Malkom had received preferential treatment in many cases. More Tobacco, food and water as a start, and he was bound to see his family later today, being the first Sunday of his sentence.

Also odd was how every prisoner was tagged, including him. With a color based on their crime, the others had red tags while he wore a green one, marking him as a "petty" criminal compared to their much more heinous crimes. At least officially.

It was an open secret amongst the Guard that Malkom had attempted to kill the Queen during the Great Freeze, just as they also knew he had done it to bring summer back and save his daughter who had contracted Pneumonia. The Great Thaw had somehow cured his daughter Aida, and being merciful and understanding Queen Elsa had reduced the severity of the charges upon him. Malkom nonetheless worried what would become of him if the fanatical Grenadiers discovered his true crime.

As he peeled well over his hundredth potato of the morning, a commotion began to occur. A number of Grenadiers arrived to reinforce the number already standing guard, as well as a few wagons and a few officers. Something was about to go down.

…

Hours earlier Elsa had laid down to bed, her mind swimming with thoughts. Having discovered a glimpse of her father's dark past, Elsa was barely holding it together. She worried about whether or not lying to her sister and friend Anna was the right course, she worried about her father's legacy, and worst of all she worried about her own morality.

Elsa had many issues regarding her self-control regarding magic, but there was always one area she felt confident in- her lineage. She had seen how her beloved Papa had handled a seemingly endless series of crisis with a calm expression and tone, never faltering even under the cloud of war. He always seemed to do the right thing while being intelligent about it when young Elsa watched her father govern, so that one day she may be able to do the same. In other words, while she struggled to control her magic, she was always convinced that she came from inherently good, reposed stock. That because her parents where good people in full control of their emotions, one day she could too.

But that was all a lie wasn't it. Her beloved father, the bedrock of her moral foundation may have been a war criminal. She had done some light reading on the "Tooth Fairy" and was appalled by what little she found. Routine slaughter of French noncombatant troops. Killing Prisoners. Torture. Mutilation of bodies. And the possible massacre of entire village, though unproven. What little comfort she got from it was that he may not have done all of the horrible things attributed to him, but that he certainly permitted his subordinates to do so.

She was her father's daughter. And now that terrified Elsa.

She was also torn on how to handle the knowledge she had learned. She didn't want to lie to Anna or keep secrets from her, but she didn't want to shatter Anna's perception of their father. Anna also loved their late father, despite his parenting faults. While he separated the two girls for 10 years and up until his death, he had also shown his girls nothing but love. He had scolded them at times, sure, but he was never cruel. This most of all confused Elsa. How such a loving, decent father could have committed such horrific deeds?

With that thought in her head, Elsa finally drifted off to sleep.

…

It was only a few short hours later when Elsa awoke to the drums, She awoke in a perplexed annoyed mood as the Guard's band had been forbidden to play at such early hours for centuries as not to wake sleeping monarchs. Especially on a Sunday Morning, effectively her only day off during the week. She shouted a disgruntled order at the Guardsmen she knew where outside her door to shut that racket up. As she attempted to sleep while they carried out her command, she noticed that rather than any beat she knew, it was just a solid, continuous drum roll.

How odd…

Suddenly the drums stopped, and she heard some shouting from the courtyard. Had she been up and alert, her mind would have told her that it took more than a minute to move through the castle and get outside, and to relay an order. But she was exhausted, and her logical center of her brain was not in operation yet.

Must be the Guard telling the Grenadiers to shut it.

She began to drift off when a volley of gunfire erupted. Elsa at this point leaped out of bed, as a blast of ice magic pulsing from her body through fear and adrenaline. Noticing her sudden loss of control, Elsa closed her eyes and regained her composure. As the ice disappeared thanks to the calming thoughts of Anna, she conjured an ice robe and swiftly departed her bedroom.

Expecting to see the guard and staff react to an attack, only to see people milling about. The Guard seemed nonchalant, simply manning their posts without any concern, while the servants looked merely startled. She turned to the nearest Guard, and began to yell.

"Guardsman! What is going on? Are we under attack?"

"No, your majesty. All is fine, please get some rest."

"No! I heard gunshots!"

Almost on cue, a single gunshot was heard. Elsa jumped from the shock, creating another patch of frost on the floor.

"Your Majesty, we are not under attack! All is fine." The Guard attempted to calm the Queen down as he felt a significant chill emanating from the Queen. He was under orders to not reveal what was being carried out under the Queen's nose, and to delay it as long as possible.

But Elsa was having none of it.

"What is that?" She turned away from the stammering Guardsman, to nearby window, casting it open and peering outside.

A mound of sandbags had been constructed in the courtyard of the castle against one of the walls, with several wagons with horses hitched to them on the opposite side, teamsters waiting for something. Grenadiers milled about, all armed while officers watched the whole affair. Elsa was no expert on military affairs, but if this was a coup, it was the sloppiest and most poorly conceived coup in history. Judging by the cases of ammunition lying about, she made the guess that it was some sort of range.

But that made no sense, either. There were no targets, and the amount of men on the firing line far exceeded any firing range she had ever seen. Also, it'd be a poor test of marksmanship to hit a target mere meters away. There were Grenadiers moving tan sacks away from the target line, as Elsa tried to figure out what was happening.

What are those? Perhaps they are targets, but they are unlike any target I have ever seen. They appear to be made from the same materiel as sandbags. But they're too long! Sandbags are a little under two feet long, yet these appear as tall as a man.

Like Ice water, it hit her. She brought a hand to her mouth as she realized what was occurring in her castle, her home.

It was an execution by firing Squad.

As she recoiled in horror, another batch of the traitors was roughly led out into the square at gunpoint, with plenty of shoves from the Grenadiers. Being placed in front of the mound an officer raised a sword and shouted an order to the firing squad, as a drum roll began. Elsa shouted but couldn't be heard over the drums.

Frantic to put a stop to all this, she turned from the window and began to sprint down the stairs despite the Guard posted at the door's objection. Not caring a damn that she was hardly dressed regally or hadn't prepared in any way, she moved like the wind, barefoot in her own castle. Guards and Servants alike raised objections and begged Elsa to stop, but she would not have the deaths of untried men on her conscious. Not if she could help it.

She nearly made it to the door when the drum roll stopped. In desperation she nearly leapt the last few meters and threw the doors open, screaming at her soldiers to stop.

She was greeted with gunfire.

She watched helplessly as the condemned men jerked and twisted before collapsing. She could do little but stare as the treasonous men's blood began to seep over the cobblestone, life fading from them. At his point, the soldiers noticed their Queen and turned to face her, despite not having been given the order to fall out.

Elsa looked at the soldiers who returned their Monarch's gaze and were confused by her expression of horror. As she scanned their puzzled stare, she herself was perplexed. For men who just killed men in cold blood, they hardly looked the part of executioners. These were youthful men eager to serve Queen and country, their expressions matched that of a cat that had brought a dead bird to its owner and was puzzled why their master wasn't happy with the gift.

Her face twisted with anger, as she forcibly walked into the square, as soldiers moved out of the way not wishing to incur the Queen's wrath. She moved to the firing party and confronted the officer leading it, a young Captain who appeared to be stunned by the turn of events.

"YOU!" She shouted while closing the last few paces. The young captain instinctively turned his head left and right, looking for someone else that Queen Elsa could be yelling at.

"No, you!" She stood inches away from him, the magic chill seeping through his wool tunic and into his bones, as he shrunk from fear. "What in god's name made you think you had the authority to execute these men?! This is my Castle, these were my prisoners! And I will not stand for this!"

Before he could respond, a groan came from one of the shot men rose up. Having not been hit anywhere immediately fatal, the man began to beg for help. Ignoring the man, the Captain began to protest.

"Y-y-your Majesty, I had orders, and these men were transferred to my jurisdiction, and-"

"Who ordered this? And-"She stopped mid-sentence before gesturing to the shot man. "Somebody do something about that man!"

The Captain paused, not sure what to do. He knew what the regulations said. Any man merely wounded by the firing squad was to be given a coup de grace by the officer commanding the execution. However the Queen of all people was here telling him to save the man. As a result of such turmoil the man froze, stammering as General Wilhelmsen strolled into the courtyard.

Never one to be inefficient he promptly gestured to the wounded man and sternly dressed down the Captain. "Captain what is the meaning of this!?"

Elsa felt a bit relieved to see the General at this time. If the Grenadier Officer Corps wouldn't respect her, they would respect a General. Before she could concur with the General, he resumed speaking.

"You know the Regulations, Captain. Why hasn't this man been dealt with?"

"Sir, the Queen objected to the execution and I was unsure-"

"Of course the Queen objected to the execution, Captain. She a kind, merciful person." He calmly drew his revolver as walked over to the gasping shot man and promptly shot him in the head. "As soldiers we are not. We spill blood, to keep her clean." He holstered his pistol, as every soul in the courtyard stood there in amazement of the General's sheer bravado. Oblivious to it all or just not caring, General Wilhelmsen turned to Queen Elsa and bowed.

"My apologies that you had to see that, Your Majesty. But I am happy to report that all the traitors have been executed and will no longer stain Arendelle with their existence. " He paused, before smiling in a very smug way. "Perhaps her Majesty now sees how loyal her soldiers, officers and generals are to her?"

Elsa stood in disbelief, not because of the man's blatant shooting of a prisoner she did not wish killed. It dawned on her now. This was the General from yesterday who had stormed out. She now knew why. He had been upset because she doubted his loyalty, which was telegraphed when she ordered them to report without their troops. He felt like he needed to prove himself.

Indirectly, this whole mess was her fault.

…

He wasn't there for long, but he was there long enough.

Adolph was the only surviving triplet of his brothers to survive the coup. Due to his prior crime of rape and murder in addition to the blanket charge of treason, he had been selected by General Wilhelmsen to be an example to the city, the country, and the world.

He had been led out to the town square before the sun had come up, and it wasn't long before they found a suitable light pole to string him up on. After a few short minutes of fruitless struggle he dangled lifelessly under guard for a few hours before Elsa ordered the man cut down. The damage was done however. He had been seen, as had the placard around his neck.

I am a criminal and traitor who betrayed my Queen and my country.

He wasn't there for long, but he had been there long enough.

…

The Senior officers of the Arendelle Army all stood at attention, as Queen Elsa stood, now fully dressed and looking quite upset. Hindsfjell, Wilhelmsen, Marcks represented the Army with Lieutenant Gumrak representing the Royal Guard, who had collaborated with Wilhelmsen's men. They quietly stood, waiting for the inevitable ass-chewing.

"Gentlemen, what the hell where you thinking!? Do you know how much damage this will cause? I am trying to establish the legitimacy of my rule, and you undermine it with this travesty!"

"Your Majesty, it is insanity that you have to establish your right to rule to begin with!" Wilhelmsen began. "These men were traitors and criminals all! That we gave most of them a respectable death by firing squad was mercy!"

"It is MY judgement that determines whether traitors face the noose or firing squad, NOT you!"

Hindsfjell spoke up with a calm, reasonable voice. "Not entirely true, your majesty. While you have the authority to decide the fate of any subject of Arendelle, as Chief of Staff of the Army and Inspector General Wilhelmsen has the right to charge and arrest servicemen with any crime he as suitable evidence for, with final judicial authority lying with that soldier's Regimental Commander."

"Those men where not assigned to any regiment, Marshal."

"Not so, Your Majesty. All were transferred to my Regiment last night." It was Marcks speaking now. "And as their new Regimental Commander, I agreed with General Wilhelmsen's recommendation."

Elsa looked at all the Army officer's with disbelief, before her mind did what it did best, logically connecting dots and putting things into place. It was true, they were right. She had not pardoned or tried the men, and as such where open to military justice. And all were former soldiers who had not yet finished their sentences when they attempted the coup. She scoffed in frustration, before turning her anger towards her own Guardsmen.

"And why was an armed party of Grenadiers permitted allowed into my castle!"

Gumrak shifted his feet and eyes, before beginning his explanation.

"Your Majesty, as Officer of the Guard for last night, I was made fully aware of the Firing Party's intentions. As all their documents where in order, I permitted them to use the castle grounds for security reasons."

"Security Reasons?"

"These were dangerous men, your Majesty. Any transfer may have resulted in escape. I regret disturbing your sleep, but I stand by my actions."

"My Sleep? I would have gladly been awaken to prevent this from happening! Why would you decide that men's lives would be less important than my sleep!? They did not need to die!"

Always possessing his own brand of justice, likely inspired from an upbringing in Russia, Gumrak's face twisted in disgust at the thought that the traitors being deserving of mercy. "Your Majesty, these were not men! These were vermin that did not deserve to take up even a wink of your sleep!"

Elsa grasped her head, wondering if the world had gone completely mad. Men she once turned to for sage advice had gone completely mad, and yet she had to rely on these men as they were her only real allies. But for today she was disgusted.

"Gentlemen, leave me."

Being obedient soldiers, they all bowed and promptly left, leaving Elsa alone. She sighed and turned to look out the window. The bodies had already been carted away and the last of the sandbags where being loaded now. She had stressed how important that the scene of the execution be sterilized before Anna woke. She would certainly be told, but Elsa desperately wanted to keep Anna away from the stark reality of it all.

It at least was not a total disaster. A few traitors who had minor offenses and as such had did their time in prison before being released prior to the coup had already been transferred to the civil penal system. They had been tried and sentenced to either exile or labor camps in the mountains. They were safe. Only one remained in peril, and she decided earlier to deal with him.

She waited a few moments, to make sure that the fanatical officers were out of earshot. "Send him in." She took a deep breath and relaxed into a reposed, calm regal pose rather than the bewildered and angry look she had carried over from the last group in her office.

Malkom Gunnarsen entered the room, before propping to attention. Elsa looked over the nervous prisoner and guessed that after today's events, he could very well fear for his life. She wouldn't even doubt that he believed that she could be the one to order it.

"Malkom Gunnarsen, as you have no doubt have been made aware of, Arendelle is not the safest place for those who have done anything remotely close to treason. As such I would have normally have had you transferred to a different prison. However, no other prison would likely be willing to let your family visit. As such I have ordered that you be assigned to the 2nd Landwehr Regiment in Grimstad at the crown's expense.

Malkom nervously smiled, before bowing to Elsa. "Thank you, Your Majesty! I cannot say how grateful I am!"

"I would suggest you waste no time getting packed with the current environment."

The pardoned man bowed yet again before uttering another "Thank you, Your Majesty" before leaving. With the man gone she slumped in her chair in a very unladylike way, forcibly exhaling. She still had no idea what she was going to say to Anna, who thankfully was still asleep. But sooner or later, she would have to face this dilemma.

…

The corpse watched as Surtrsen laid the several bags of goods on her dining table, all containing what she needed. Some things were not easy to come by, and she was glad that gold prices had gone down since her time. Being buried with an effective fortune certainly had its drawbacks, even though her brain ached with questions of who she was. Regardless, even a small portion of her treasury got her everything she needed.

"Is there anything else you need, your Holiness?" He asked, eyes glazed over with insanity. She marveled at just how quickly his mind snapped, but then again, her powers had been simmering up for so long that it just seeped out of her like an overflowing pot. At this point she doubted she could twist anybody that fast anymore.

"That will be all, Alan. When do you plan to begin?"

"Tonight, I will meet with some men who share my faith. There we will flesh out a plan."

"Very well. I will see you tonight."

As the Major left, the Corpse began tearing open the bags, conducting an inventory of the crucial things she needed. She was entranced by the wonders of this future age that she discovered in catalogs and advertisements, but those things would have to wait. It was good that she was disciplined. Although Tryggvason was by Surtrsen's own words a "Backwater", it far exceeded even the greatest cities she had seen when alive, at least the few foggy thoughts she could remember anyway. It took great will to stick to the things she needed, and as such now lay on the table.

First there was the clothing. As much as she hated the female fashion of this century, it would be unwise of her to stick out until she was ready to reveal herself. She still wore the mask as a veil would simply not conceal her mummified face, but everything else was found quite easily, as fashion of the era certainly did not have problems concealing the female body. Gloves, a dress and coat that went to the neck and shoe clad feet were hardly abnormal fashion. She also had to wear a cloak and hood to hide the rest of her head, but that was still better than chainmail armor and furs.

Second, and most important was the perfume. It amazed her that her nose still worked, and while she didn't care about it, she knew she smelled like a corpse. While she had chosen a low rent room near a slaughtering plant, she knew she could not move freely about until she no longer smelled repugnant. She had already had to send a burst of insanity directly into the property's land lady's head to prevent her from questioning the smell when she rented the property, as well as to look the other way on some of her more unusual activities.

Which led to the last thing. Sitting in her basement apartment was a goat tied up to a pole, sitting near a great metal tub. She locked the door, before stripping down to her blue, withered flesh. After all she did not wish to get blood on her clothes or armor. Seizing a knife, she then approached the goat, which cried softly as it could feel something unnatural was in the room. She then seized the goat's head and violently slashed its throat open. As it fell she twisted the goat's neck as to direct the gushing blood into the tub.

As the goat jerked during its last moments, the corpse grabbed a tin cup and began to drink the life-blood of the goat, relishing it. Feeling the pains of hunger after so long, the corpse also ripped a leg off, somewhat uncaring that some blood would be lost. But before she could take a bite, she was hit by a flash.

She was a little girl again, a living little girl.

She sat in a great hall, during a feast. She grabbed a large chunk of meat and proceeded to try to stick as much of it as possible into her small mouth. As she did she received a light slap on the back of her head. She turned to see an older woman, perhaps her mother? She couldn't remember.

"Ásta! You are a lady, act like it!"

And just like that, it was over. She played the scene out in her head over and over, clutching to the only actual memory she had of life. She had had beliefs, prejudices, hatred and enemies up to this point. She knew she hated the Christian church, she even knew why. But she lacked any memory telling her anything why she hated them other than a list of crimes they committed.

She set the goat leg down, as she prepared to properly skin and dress the animal. She would of course drink the goat's blood to tide her over, but she was a Lady. She would cook and eat the goat properly as that's what she would have done in life. Memories are funny like that.

She looked back at the table, where she had a great many possessions. She had gold and some of the finest mail and weapons of her time. She also had a great many bottles of perfume and clothes that many poor women would kill to own. But all of it dwarfed to what she now had.

She had a name.

Her name was Ásta.

Bit o' Notes

So yeah, this may have been my most rewrite heavy chapter yet. Almost every paragraph got at least one rewrite, and the final bit got rewritten 4 times for various reasons. Things got added, other stuff got taken out, all in all this more of an editorial challenge then a writing one. But, I like to turn out quality work rather than crap, so be it.

I had requests to bring Malkom back, so here he is. However, we aren't seeing him again for a while. While I like the character, he serves a fairly one note role of being a stand in for the desperation of the common folk of Arendelle. Now that he's no longer in the capital, we shan't be seeing more of him.

I finally gave Surtrsen's home region a name, Tryggvason. Named after the first Christian King of Norway to severely oppress Pagans, It is entirely fictional. I could have used a real town but I decided against it. Since it's filled with a bunch of rabid, bible-thumping psycho Christians, I decided that rather than allege that an actual town in Norway is backwards and filled with intolerant assholes. I wouldn't like someone doing that to my hometown, so for the sake of my possible Norwegian readers to not do that. For those of you wondering what Arendelle's borders look like, Look up Aust-Agder. That'll give you a rough idea.

Next chapter will be a lot less drama heavy as things calm down a bit in Arendelle. However I can assure y'all that the worst has yet to come.

Keep Reading and Reviewing,

-Dragunov