Elsa grabbed the handles and pulled open the double doors with a flourish. She didn't wait for the proper invitation to be made, as per her Council's custom, and confidently strode into the room, nodding at each noble in turn as she made her way to her end of the large rectangular table, Anna at her side. After making eye contact with the Princess, she indicated for her to take a seat to her left. When she sat down, her nobles did the same.

Both Harold Halfdansson and Hålogaland looked down, and couldn't meet the Queen's steady gaze. Even Master Kai, who was standing near the fireplace, was silent. But Earl Malkolm was different, and nodded with approval at Her Majesty's choice of clothes, believing she was preparing herself for war. He could barely conceal his obvious attraction, which Elsa picked up on immediately. She met his frank stare with one of her own, appreciating his obvious dedication and vigor.

Elsa cleared her throat. "Your Grace, my Lords, and gentlemen. Arendelle is a prosperous Kingdom, known throughout Europe for its fairness at trade, the loyalty of its citizenry, and the esteem of its nobles." She briefly glanced at Anna, who was looking quizzically at Earl Malkolm. "Master Kai, some brandy, please." Her attention was drawn back to the young Earl. "But there are those who look upon us with envious and spiteful eyes, and would wish to see our fair kingdom fall into ruin. This I cannot abide." The glass that Kai handed to her felt cold, and she downed half of its contents in one swallow. "Reliable spies have revealed to us the wretched plans of Weselton and the Southern Isles, and I cannot—and will not—allow Arendelle to succumb to them. Gentlemen, I have declared war against our enemies, as you probably already know."

Harald Halfdansson nodded. "Your Majesty, I can appreciate the precarious position you found yourself in, but the Privy Council should have had a say in that declaration!"

Elsa frowned. "To what inevitable end, Your Grace? We would still find ourselves in the exact same position."

Hålogaland, who was sitting next to the Chieftain, placed a hand on his arm. "Please, Harald, this is no time to debate the Queen's actions. What has been done is done, and now we have to act."

"I object." Halfdansson stood, and then placed his hands on the table. "This is a delicate matter, and we ought to at least known Your Majesty's mind before the decision was made."

Elsa thought about that for a moment, and then realized that the Chieftain was right. The nobles ought to have at least known about the threat, and her thoughts and intentions towards it. "My apologies, Harald Halfdansson, you—all of you—had a right to know about my decision, as per our Kingdom's decrees. But there are a few of you present at this meeting, and many more will be arriving in Arendelle in the next few days; and now that you know I will be expecting you to help me relay the news to those who are coming. Your Grace, my Lords?"

The nobles looked at each other while Kai walked back over to the fireplace. It was clear what a good strategist Elsa was, and was going to be in days ahead. She easily avoided an argument with them that could have split the kingdom, and now she was counting on them to convince the other nobles.

Earl Malkolm turned in his seat towards the Queen. "You have our complete dedication and fealty, Your Majesty." The man's eyes were intense, easily conveying his allure, and held the Queen's stare.

Anna frowned, feeling the obvious pull between the two. She cleared her throat as a feeling of helplessness stole over her. Elsa's attention was drawn away at that sound, and she glanced at the pained look on Anna's face, realizing the reason behind it.

Elsa turned backed to her nobles and stood up. "Will you gentlemen please accompany Princess Anna and I to the docks, there is a flagship from Weselton that requires our attention." She looked down at the Princess, silently reassuring her, and extending her arm. "Princess."

Anna got up and took that arm, her posture somewhat stiff and formal. "My Queen."

Elsa noticed, but at the time could not do anything about it. Kai opened the double doors and stepped aside so Elsa and Anna could exit first, followed by nobles. As he closed the doors behind him, and observed the busy castle staff at work, he thought he caught a glimpse someone who looked exactly like Captain Gunnar. As he turned to look more closely the man was nowhere to be seen, and he quickly dismissed what he thought he saw. He knew of Elsa's suspicions, and came to the conclusion that the Captain was far away from the castle.

Ingarth trembled somewhat from the cold, even though the small wood-burning stove opposite his cell was lit, and the fire inside burned brightly. He knew right away this was not a good sign, as it had not been lit before, and deduced that someone important was coming to see him. Could it be the prince Hans that the guards were constantly talking about? The bread in his hands was stale, and he broke it apart and tossed a few of the pieces to the rats that gathered everyday in one corner of his small compartment. As he was eating the rest he heard footsteps coming down the stairs and quickly swallowed the hard chunks.

It was strange; there was only the sound of one person coming down the stairs, and not the usual sound of more than one pair of footfalls. Reacting on instinct, he stood abruptly and grasped the prison bars, even though his body was aching from lack of movement. "Who… who is it?"

The figure rounded the corner and his eyes widened in utter surprise. "What… how did you get in here, Zander?"

Roman approached the prisoner's cell, is face unreadable. "You cannot call me that name, Ingarth." There was a certain detachment in his tone, and Ingarth noticed.

"What are you talking about?"

"I cannot help you, Ingarth. In this matter you are completely alone, do you understand me?"

Ingarth stepped back from the bars, suddenly feeling as if something was terribly wrong, other than him being a prisoner. He looked deeply into the other man's eyes. "You didn't sneak into this place, did you, Zander?"

"I told you not to call me that!" Roman grabbed the bars. "This is a matter of life and death, don't you understand—and I'm not talking about your life, but mine!" He turned away and stared into the fire. "There is still much I can do for Arendelle, but I can't let you jeopardize my position." He grimaced somewhat, and then faced Ingarth again. "I have a secret, Ingarth. Come a little closer so that I may whisper it."

Ingarth hesitantly stepped forward. "Look, there is no reason to be so cryptic, just tell what—" But he didn't get the chance to complete his thought, and looked down in surprise for a second at the knife imbedded into his chest. He collapsed where he stood.

Roman looked on in horror at what he did, and almost backed into the hot stove before he caught himself. Ingarth writhed for a few moments, blood gurgling out of his mouth, and then stopped moving altogether. He reached into his jacket pocket, hand shaking, and took out his flask, downing the entire contents in only a moment. For a few seconds panic threatened to overwhelm him, and he had an overwhelming urge to flee. But what good would that do, except to bring too much attention to him.

Roman thought about the situation, and then did the only thing he could think of. "Guards! Guards!" His scream echoed up the stairs quickly.

Two guards came rushing down the stairs almost immediately, and halted in front of him.

The prince mustered as much anger as he could, and pointed at the dead man. "The prisoner committed suicide! How did he get that knife?"

One of the guards blanched, his eyes full of fright. "He's dead?" He whirled around and looked into the cell. "Oh, no…"

"Oh, no? Is that all you have to say? How did this lowlife get the goddamn knife?" Roman was in near hysterics, and shrank back when the other guard practically ran him down when he fled back up the stairs. "What is going on here? Why did he flee?"

"That was Baard, Your Highness. He brought breakfast to the prisoner, and was the last one to see him!"

"Then he is the one who brought him the knife. Go quickly… go after him!" When the guard was gone Roman blew out a deep breath, and then shuddered a bit. Hans would be here soon, and he needed to collect himself so as to appear convincing. He proceeded up the stairs on wobbly legs, wanting nothing more than to escape into anonymity.

In a far, secluded corner of the Valley of the Living Rock, the trolls assembled themselves in circle around Kristoff and the shaman, Hølje, preparing to return to Yggdrasil for the last time. This was the time of new beginnings, as the upcoming fulfillment of the Prophecies was at hand. It was time to exit this place—but not to disappear all together—and to take their rightful place in one of the nine worlds. They understood keenly the necessity of change, it was the way of things, and this world was on the cusp of becoming something more than it was now. Their part in the unfolding drama was clear, and bittersweet, for many of them had formed an attachment to this world, and grieved to have to leave it. The way of things…

Kristoff looked on as the trolls stripped themselves of all their worldly possessions, including their clothes. A small tear rolled down his cheek. "Are you sure, Master Hølje?"

Hølje grasped his shaman's staff harder, feeling pangs of regret, and loss. "There are many things I will miss, and you are one of them, young man." He handed the staff to Kristoff and shed his own clothes. "Yes, I am sure." When the mountain man sighed heavily he looked up at him. "Don't fall into despair, Kristoff—she will need your strength above all else in the days ahead."

Kristoff adjusted the helm on his head, and then checked the sword at his side. "Even above Elsa's?"

"Jörmungandr must arise, while the Queen must fade. Escort us back to Yggdrasil, Kristoff, and I will tell you everything you need to know."

The mountain man patted Sven before taking his reins. He smiled at his trusted companion. "Don't fail me now, buddy. You know where to go."