It's beautiful, thought Elsa as she gazed into the deep blue of the energy above her palm. Sparks mingled with one another like dancers at a ball, reflecting shimmering light off of the queen's eyes. Though if my power is beauty and danger, surely this is the danger.

It had taken hours of practice for her to be able to summon the electricity from will. At first, Elsa was convinced it was a fluke that she could never reproduce, brought on by her anger and Aaron's provocation. However, the prince was adamant that it was a part of her magic that she could control, and it had turned out he was right. This morning, in the tranquility of the castle gardens, she had worked for hours in solitude in order to tap into that energy again; and she had succeeded. With nothing but the flowers and crisp morning dew as her witness, Elsa was creating lightning.

It had been a dirty trick for Aaron to purposely anger her like that. And an obvious one as well, now that Elsa was able to think clearly. She was embarrassed she had fallen for the taunting and let her emotions go so haywire, although the result was worth it. Though, she reminded herself, losing control again could not be an option. With all that was on the line, her emotions must be kept in check.

Elsa focused, inhaled, and let the power vibrate from her fingertips. A tiny maelstrom appeared in her hand, sending blue bolts of electricity from finger to finger and up and down her arm. Just like her ice, it felt cold on her skin.

Suddenly there were footsteps disturbing the brittle leaves of the walkway behind her and Elsa whirled, preparing to send away whoever was there to disturb her. When she saw the strawberry locks of her sister, she relaxed.

"Elsa," Anna breathed, stopping to catch her breath. "There you are. I need to tell you….something." The younger sister paused when she spotted the blue sparks still lingering around Elsa's left hand. "That's…new."

Elsa sent the sparks away with a wave. "Y-yeah…I'm still surprising myself with my powers, even after all these years," Elsa said. "What's going on? You look troubled."

Anna held up a stack of parchment. "Don't be mad, but… I did some snooping."

Elsa raised an eyebrow as she walked over to her. "What kind of snooping?"

"Just look. These are the missing pages from A History of Royal Magic. I found them in Aaron's room."

"You went into his room?" Elsa said, exasperated. Despite her tone, she began looking through the pages hungrily. Whatever Anna had done could not be undone, she figured, and the mystery of what those pages contained was too great to resist.

"I know, I know," Anna said. "Privacy and guest right and blah blah blah… but Aaron can't be keeping secrets from us at a time like this, and I knew you'd never do anything about it. Anyway, what I found out wasn't exactly incriminating…it is juicy, though."

Elsa saw what she meant. The first page had a drawing of a beautiful queen in a red and black dress wearing a flame-jeweled tiara. She had a slender nose and jet black hair that fell straight to her shoulders. Her skin was pale and her eyebrows thin and defined. Elsa knew she looked familiar and when she read the caption, it made sense why. Queen Alma Sung-Sinclair – The Highborn of Silikwood/Astor.

Of course, Elsa thought. Just add the glasses and she's the spitting image of Sophie.

"The third Highborn was not a man named Percius like Aaron said," Anna stated. "It was Aaron and Sophie's mother. Look, it says right here: she had the gift of life, just like Aaron said Percius had."

Elsa studied the woman in the picture, intrigued. "Why would Aaron hide this? I don't understand… If I had known his mother was a Highborn… Oh god, this makes Alexander's murder of Alma that much more devastating. It makes so much sense. He stole her power that day and changed everything. It was all because of Alma."

"Exactly," Anna agreed. "But there's even more to it than that. Agatha writes about Alexander as well, but she mentions nothing of his magic. It looks like she didn't have a clue he was a Highborn, even when she died. Apparently Alma was a princess born in the East who came to Astor on a wedding pact with Harold, the future king of Astor and Alexander's older brother. Agatha tagged along with her as her advisor. It's all interesting, but I see no reason Aaron would hide it all from us. What difference does it make if Alma was the Highborn?"

"I'm not sure," said Elsa. "I have to assume there's more to the story. I'll confront him about it when I feel the time is right." The queen looked up at her sister and jabbed a finger to her chest. "But you'll be the one facing his wrath when he finds out how I got these pages."

Anna sighed. "Fair enough. I suppose I have to pay for my ninja ways one way or the other." She turned away. "Now that that's solved, I have to go apologize to Kristoff before he takes off for the mountains to mope…"

"Apologize for what?" Elsa asked. It wasn't like the couple to argue and she couldn't even remember the last time Anna ever needed to apologize to Kristoff. It was usually the other way around.

"We got in a fight. He started talking about Hans and I kinda… got too upset. It'll be fine."

Elsa was surprised to hear that. All Anna ever seemed to do was talk about how much she hated the prince from the Southern Isles. Suddenly, something occurred to her. "You realize we may have to face him again. He may be commanding part of Astor's army and…"

"I know," Anna cut her off abruptly, taking Elsa aback. "If I ever see Hans, I know just what I'd like to say to him. Before this is all over, he'll know what it's like to be stabbed in the heart."

Then Anna took off back toward the castle, leaving Elsa befuddled and alone again surrounded by the quiet, gentle blowing of leaves.

Stabbed in the heart? the queen wondered. What was all that about?

In the thick shroud of darkness the night provided, an Astor soldier marched stolidly through the halls of the palace of Calidae. He wore his full armor with a black helm concealing his face and with every step he clanked like an iron giant. The torchlight from the walls shimmered across the flame sigil on his chest as he made his way deeper into the dark maze.

The soldier came to a metal door down an isolated hallway where another man in the same armor was leaning against the wall, his spear and shield resting uselessly next to him along with his helm. "What is it?" the other soldier asked, looking annoyed that his shift was being interrupted by a visitor.

"I'm here to take your place for the night," bellowed the helmed man. His voice was deep and he towered over the other soldier by at least a foot. When the guard looked skeptical, the helmed man added, "Orders from the Black Swan herself. She's changing the rotation after what happened to the fleet."

The man paused for a moment with a clenched jaw, then shrugged and picked up his arms, clearly in no mood to protest a night off. "Just don't let anything happen. Things're on edge 'round here. I ain't lookin' to be burned alive like those fools down there."

The big soldier grunted as the other handed him his keys and departed. Then he took his place by the door and waited.

It was near three in the morning when the man made his move, sliding the keys into the metal door and slipping inside. Stone steps led down to the dungeons, long and lonely. The only noise was the metal clinking of the man's armor. When he got to the bottom, he lit a lantern resting by the cells and raised it to the metal bars, revealing five terrified faces.

It was dark and isolated in this dungeon and the cells were all empty but for this one. These were special prison cells on the inside of the castle, away from the larger prison that stood on its own near the harbor. Only men meant for execution were held within these walls.

"You're not the usual guard," one of the prisoners squeaked. "Where'd he go? Is it time? Are we going to die!?" He was young and scrawny, more boy than man. All five of them looked hopelessly young and scared, garbed in nothing but a cloth around their waists and dirt smeared across their bodies.

The helmed man held up a key. "Listen carefully and don't ask questions. I'm letting you free. You will come with me to a passage that leads to the sewers and escape. Then you will leave Astor forever. Make no noise and move as quickly as possible."

The five prisoners looked at one another incredulous as the man swung open the metal cage with a clang. None of them moved until he added, "This is your one chance. Either stay and be burned or come with me and live."

Hesitantly, they filed out one by one and the man in the helm lead them to the back of the dungeon. It was dark and filthy within the stone hallway and the air was ripe with the scent of blood and waste. At the furthest wall, water was leaking through the stone onto the floor where the room met the castle foundation. The armor-clad man lifted his lantern to inspect a large stone slab resting flush against the wall. "Help me move this," he said.

It took three of them to finally inch the stone back from the wall, revealing a hole just big enough for a person to squeeze through. It was pitch black and smelled foul and the prisoners wretched at the sight.

"You want us to crawl through there?" one of them asked. The one next to him hit him in the chest.

"We don't have a choice, idiot. We're being let free. Just be grateful."

The shortest of the bunch, a pudgy guy with a round face turned to the armored man and said, "W-why are you doing this? Did she send you? Who are you?"

The soldier didn't waste a moment. He snatched the prisoner by the collar and lifted him so they were face to helm. "I said not to ask questions, kid." Then he shoved him away and addressed all five. "Get out of here quickly and leave the kingdom. You'll be poor and marked as deserters, but at least you'll be alive. You lot destroyed half of Astor's fleet. Alexander plans to burn you in the morning in front of the entire army. Your crimes can never be forgiven here. I offer you an out. Take it or leave it."

"But we only did it because…" the pudgy prisoner sniffled, tears welling up in his eyes.

"It doesn't matter why you did it. Just go."

With one last lingering stare, the first of the prisoners climbed through the hole. When they were gone, the Astor soldier used all his might to slide the stone slab back into place. Then he returned to his station and stood diligently for the rest of his shift, never taking his helm off even for a moment. Good luck, boys he thought. You're going to need it.

Princess Sophie stood on the battlements of the castle, watching over her men during their combat rounds for the morning. The day was hot and the courtyard was alive with the sound of steel. The Black Swan watched over the ranks of soldiers like a hawk, carefully assessing their each and every move.

Time for me to make my entrance. The terrifying Black Swan, here to ruin the day again, she thought as she began her descent into the courtyard.

In truth, Sophie had always hated her nickname. She had never understood why Aaron had earned the name panther while she was stuck with swan. Their fighting styles had always been different, with Sophie as the more aggressive one and Aaron preferring defense and patience. There was no doubt that their gender was the only reason she was labeled a swan – elegant and fragile, two qualities that Sophie despised, especially as a fighter. Aaron had always said it was because she was beautiful but deadly when angered, but for some reason she could never quite accept that. It always felt like their names should be reversed.

Sophie entered the courtyard with a command. "Soldiers! Fall in!"

As the men fell into their ranks, she paced back and forth. There were at least a hundred of them all standing at attention as their princess inspected them. She was garnered in her black officer's uniform, the flame sigil shining proudly on her left breast and her hair was held back by a bright red beret. Her right hand was glued to the hilt of her shortsword, making her look all that much more commanding.

"Listen up! Lord Alexander is quite displeased with the progress we have been making. He feels that there is a displaced sense of loyalty among this army. Now, as Astor heads into its golden age, I expect you all to be behind it in full force, with your hearts all in. Is that too much to ask?"

"No sir!" came the simultaneous response.

"Good! Then you will follow your commanders and do what they ask of you. And you will improve yourselves every day until our ships set sail for Arendelle. Is that understood?"

"Yes sir!"

"Back to work," Sophie ended and the soldiers saluted all at once. She paused in her pacing, turned to her right, and pointed, singling out a faceless soldier buried in the ranks. "You! Come with me."

The soldier she pointed to was much taller than the others around him and some of his peers stole a glance at him as if to say, "you're in for it now." As the ranks collapsed back into their units, he followed his princess into the barracks as the others looked on in pity.

Sophie led the soldier past the armory and down a quiet hallway. A few other soldiers were standing around who saluted the princess as she passed. Sophie paid them no mind as she made her way deeper until they were out of sight of everybody. She glanced around to make sure the coast was clear, then pulled the helmed soldier into one of the broom closets close by.

"Has it been done, Vash?" she asked.

The soldier pulled off his helm, revealing his dark, handsome face. He was bald and masculine, with a square jaw and deep brown eyes. "Yes. I freed the recruits last night. They were confused and looked about ready to piss themselves, but they went."

"Good…Hopefully those idiots will be out of Astor by nightfall and we can pretend this never happened," Sophie said, as relief washed over her.

"I know that you felt it was your duty to save them, my lady. But won't Alexander be even more angry to see they escaped?" asked Vash.

"Don't call me that. And perhaps. But what will he do about it? I know my uncle. He'll have a little temper tantrum and then will move on. He's not stupid. He knows that he cannot waste his time searching for a few boys when he still has an invasion to get underway. The longer we wait, the more Arendelle can do to stop us."

"Don't remind me," said Vash as his eyes glazed over. "I'm as good as dead once we set sail. I'm no fighter, Sophie, you know that. I'm just a tavern keeper. I may be big and strong but there's not a killing bone in my body."

"Stop that!" ordered Sophie. She was sick of Vash's pessimism and she couldn't take the thought of him giving into weakness.

When Alexander had asked her to bring him Vasheer Maljahr for questioning, she had known her friend was as good as dead. The barkeep had been secretly distributing a cure for the Disease with her help for years. As soon as the order was given, she came to Vash in secret and told him he needed to disappear. Reluctantly, the man had done just that, disposing of everything he owned and leaving his tavern, the Sundown, to rot.

Sophie knew he wouldn't be safe anywhere else so she convinced him to join Astor's military under a completely new name. It wasn't hard to enlist him as a foreign recruit. She was hiding him in plain sight, in a way, and with Vash disguised as a soldier, she now could keep an eye on him day and night, although she had lost her most valuable man on the streets of the city. Luckily, he had been extremely useful in this plot to free the recruits that were set for execution.

"I have a plan, Vash. I wouldn't have brought you into the army just to send you to die. My father's illness has been leveling out. He's still sick, but he isn't getting worse. I've decided to bring him with us when we set sail. I'm appointing you to be his caretaker. You won't even see a second of combat. All you need to do is take care of my father."

"What? King Harold is in no condition to sail to the Northern Kingdoms in his condition. Especially to war!" Vash protested.

"The alternative is to leave him here, which I just can't do. There's no one I trust here now that Aaron is gone. He will be better off with me. With you."

Vash remained quiet for a moment. Sophie knew he was relieved to not have to fight, although he wouldn't admit it. "Okay," he said. "I will look after him. And you."

Sophie smiled and patted him on the chest. "How cute. You actually think I need your protection."

Vash grinned sheepishly down at her. "Just because you don't need it doesn't mean I won't offer it."

Sophie adjusted her glasses and averted her eyes. "I just want you safe, Vash. I promise I'll be alright, and when all of this is over we can…we can…"

Claaaaang! Claaaaang! Claaaaang!

The sound of the belltower seemed to shake the closet. Those bells were never rung unless something big was happening. Endless possibilities flashed through Sophie's mind. Were they under attack? Was there a ship spotting? Sophie and Vash exchanged an anxious look before running out to see what was going on. When they ran out into the courtyard, Sophie's heart sank upon seeing what the ruckus was all about.

Alexander stood on the battlements with a row of five prisoners bound and gagged, forced to their knees at spearpoint. All of them were sobbing and shaking uncontrollably, any trace of hope dashed from their eyes. None were older than nineteen years of age.

The rest of the soldiers were lined up below in the courtyard, watching their lord with stoic faces, trying desperately to distance themselves from the sight above.

"Behold!" screamed Alexander. "The traitors who sabotaged my army! These are the cowards who sought to set back my invasion!"

Sophie looked up at Vash who was staring in disbelief. "They…those idiots…they didn't make it…" he muttered.

"This is what happens to betrayers!" Alexander boomed. His golden eyes and scars were apparent even from a distance and Sophie could almost see the magic swelling up inside of him. "This is what happens when you stand in my way. Let all bear witness today what befalls those who cross MY POWER!"

There was a rush of heat and a giant whoosh. Then all they heard were the screams.