Chapter 7

Fitzwilliam had never been to Scandinavia. Her assignments had all been in the Atlantic, and the Vigilant had spent its time in the Caribbean before being sent to Arendelle. Arendelle had been a strange, possibly hostile land when she had arrived that first time. But then she had her ship and her crew, and her job was doing His Majesty's bidding in strange, hostile lands.

Now she was in another strange, possibly hostile land, but with no ship, no crew, and the very distinct probability that she was walking straight into a trap. Ignorance of her surroundings conspired against her, but she felt more secure since she had brought a native guide in Kristoff. So it was somewhat disconcerting when her native guide stepped off the ship, looked around, nodded and said,

"Huh. So, this is what Sweden looks like."

"You've never been here before?" Fitz asked in disbelief. Arendelle was literally surrounded by Norway, which was under the rule of Sweden. And since you could cross Arendelle in less than three days, except of course for the impassible mountains, how could you not even accidentally stumble upon some part of Sweden?

"Nope." Kristoff's smile broadened. "Never been out of Arendelle before. Should be fun."

Fitz revised her plan on the fly as she found herself in charge of the travel arrangements. They would have to leave the port quietly. The HMS Winchester, one of King William's personal fleet and a beauty of a ship, sleek, long and bearing 90 guns, was anchored well offshore, its draft too deep for the shallow harbor. She felt a moment of pride as she saw the ship's silhouette dominating the profile of the port city. Avalon was truly the master of the seas. But she also knew it would be carrying at least two platoons of marines and nearly a thousand crew members. So, Fitz was careful to keep both her distance and her head down, irked that she had to hide from her countrymen, relieved that no one seemed to take notice as two gentlemen from Arendelle debarked from the schooner and looked for a carriage.

The letter she had received explained that her brother had taken rooms in an inn not more than ten miles from the port. It would be a short ride, only an hour or two at most, shorter than made Fitz comfortable. But she had to have faith in Edmund. She had to believe that someone from the place she called home could be trusted. And even though the Prince was grown, when she thought of him she still saw the small boy he had been when they had first met. She really wanted to believe that boy held no ill intentions toward her.

It took them almost an hour to secure their baggage and find a carriage that would take them to the inn. On the ride out of town her native guide played the part of a tourist, leaning out the carriage window to admire … gawk really … at the buildings that looked almost exactly like Arendelle's. Perhaps once they got further inland the style would change, but here at the port she almost expected to see Olaf strutting around between the flower market and the main square.

The port of Gotëborg was walled, and the change when they moved from the city proper to the nearby countryside was profound. Sweden was slightly further south from Arendelle, but it was enough that it allowed larger more productive farms, familiar civilized landscapes interspersed with tracts of forest. Even the trees were bigger here. Elsa, she thought, you picked a hell of a country to be ruler of. No wonder Swedes were the butt of local jokes, she could see they would be formidable opponents, and she knew from Elsa's history lessons that they had been in the past.

As she mused on geopolitics, the passage of time was ticking in her head. If someone rode a fast horse to where the Inn should be, alerted her brother, and returned to intercept them it should be ….

"Fitz," Kristoff had been hanging out the carriage door again, "I think there's a couple of guys following us on horseback."

Fitz pushed open the curtains on the back window of the carriage. Indeed there seemed to be two people on horseback riding very far behind them. She didn't bring a glass, so all she could see were red coats from this distance. It could well be a party of hunters.

More than an hour later she glanced out the window again. The party of hunters was grown much larger … and they were closer … and they were armed, and not with hunting weapons.

"Driver stop!" Fitz banged on the carriage roof. Kristoff woke with a snort, telltale drool puddling near the side of his lips.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Don't know yet," Fitz answered as she opened the carriage door.

As she stepped outside the sun momentarily blinded her, and when her eyes had adjusted she saw that there was a squad of Avalonian horse guard behind them and another some 20 paces in front of them. Her heart thumped faster. The sergeant rode toward them. She could probably grab him, but it wouldn't make any difference. These troops were very well disciplined. If they had orders to take her, it wouldn't matter who she held hostage, they would take her.

"Sergeant," she said as he came closer,

"Captain," he replied with a nod.

"What is the meaning of this?"

The sergeant looked down at her, "We are your escorts. Prince Edmund's orders."

"I don't really think I need an escort," Fitz answered. She patted her sword for emphasis.

"I have my orders, Captain. Please return to the carriage."

Silently she cursed. They couldn't outrun this many men on horseback. The carriage certainly couldn't either. Somehow she had imagined that things would progress a little further before they became this dire.

"Very well," she said, followed by a, "damn it all to bloody hell," when she threw herself back on the seat in the carriage.

"What is it?" Kristoff cracked his knuckles, clearly preparing for a fight. "Marines?"

"No," Fitz answered, "real trouble." Putting her hand on his shoulder to settle him. "Household Guard. Couple of squads of Marines we could out wit. These troops are not so easily fooled ... or defeated."

From there it was a short uninterrupted ride to the inn, a lavish building set in the countryside, distinguished both by its immaculate lawns and by the phalanx of guards in their red and gold livery stationed outside. Once the carriage had stopped,they stepped smartly to surround it and form a living corridor that led only to the front door.

They came to attention as Fitz walked passed them. Her heartbeat sped up when she noticed that there didn't seem to be anyone else around. Well, some staff of the inn … but no one else, no other guests. The hopeful part of her reminded her that her brother liked luxury as much as any of the rest of the royal half of her family, perhaps more, and taking the whole inn would allow him to be himself. The more cynical part of her remembered that trusting anyone in her family excepting her mother was always a risk. They all played the game of politics far too well, and even a brother whom she had protected and championed might turn on her if the stakes were high enough.

"Are you OK?" Kristoff asked. He wasn't the most sensitive man in the world, but even he could feel the tension ratcheting even higher.

"Well, I'm fairly certain you're not in danger. Not mortal danger anyway."

"Oh, good," Kristoff said under his breath. "I appreciate your confidence."

However, there was no time for second thoughts as another sergeant in the royal guards colors walked crisply up to them and saluted. "Captain Fitzwilliam," he said. Then he held out his hand, "I am afraid I cannot allow you to enter armed."

"I swear upon my honor I am not a danger to my brother."

"Captain," he said no less firmly, "You must surrender your weapon."

Well, Fitz thought, it wasn't going to do her much good anyway. She was terribly outnumbered. So, she unbuckled her sword belt and handed it to the sergeant.

He took it and tucked it smoothly under his arm, then he turned and said, "Follow me, please ma'am."

"Certainly, Sergeant," Fitz replied. It wasn't like they had much of a choice.

The sergeant escorting them into the inn was a particularly strapping blond, a rarity in Avalon but he could have been Kristoff's brother, if Kristoff had a brother in the Prince's Household Guard, which was a thought that prompted her to turn to the large man and say, "Kristoff. There is something you ought to know about ..." But she was unable to finish that sentence as then they were herded into the lobby and then into a smaller parlor.

The guards followed them in to join another squad already stationed throughout the inn. They smartly wheeled and marched into place lining the walls, and notably blocking the exit. Additionally four took up places just outside as the door swung closed.

The sergeant, still holding her sword, commanded, "remain here," and then disappeared out that only door.

Kristoff and Fitz stood in the middle of the room both silent and watching the equally silent guards. Somewhere nearby there was a large clock, because Fitz could hear it ticking, soon it was matched by the rhythmic tapping of her heel. She really hated waiting. If they were going to kill her, or club her on the head and tie her up, they might as well just do it. Fitz found herself regretting that she had left Arendelle without having the courage to personally say goodbye to Elsa. She deserved that much … at the very least that much.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Elsa took one last look at herself in the mirror in the hall, self consciously re-centering her crown. Her dress was formal, a high neckline, a long flowing skirt that required her to be conscious of where it went and whose feet it ended up under, and an equally long and flowing cape. It was still made from ice, it wasn't cold enough yet that she could wear one of her formal woolen dresses even if she could bear the idea of encasing herself in them again. But this dress conformed to a style generally accepted as being "what a Queen wore," something that her preferred fashion did not.

She looked over to where Kai patiently waited and gave him a nod. He slipped through the doors in front of her, as much as someone of his girth could slip, and announced her. The double doors opened, and she entered the formal drawing room, which was just off of the formal dining room. Everyone bowed, including her sister who had come in ahead of her. She reminded herself, as she made her way through the small gathering, that this night would eventually end, it would only seem interminable.

The guest of honor, Prince Reinhardt of Luneberg, who was as elegantly dressed and as well spoken as his heritage would suggest, unexpectedly took Elsa's hand and bent over it to bestow a kiss. Quickly Elsa retreated to an old internal mantra. 'Calm yourself, control yourself, do not freeze his lips off.' And she didn't, although she still found the touch of a stranger very disconcerting, especially in such an intimate manner. People did not just touch the Queen without her permission, that is unless they were Anna, or Kristoff, or recently Carolina, and now apparently some strange man who had been told he might marry her. Elsa thought that the original list of three was more than enough to ask of a woman whose discomfort might cause a small blizzard.

"It is quite an honor to meet you, Your Majesty," The Prince said after he had lifted his head. "I see that the rumors of your beauty were not unfounded."

"And it is a pleasure to meet you as well, Your Highness," Elsa replied. She wondered which other rumors he had heard. He was here, though, which meant he wasn't afraid of her.

Tonight was the first of several formal dinners in Prince Reinhardt's honor. There were daytime activities planned as well, a tour of Arendelle, a ride with Anna later tomorrow. The guest list tonight was smaller than it would be tomorrow. Kai had rather short notice, but still managed a respectable turnout, Master Sandvik from her council and his wife Greta, Baron Nilssen also on the royal council and his wife Ingaborg, and Count Cilas Wabinske, an import from Prussia who had retired to Arendelle. Elsa had no idea why anyone would retire to Arendelle, but Admiral Naismith had sent inquiries of investigation and had deemed him a harmless old man. At present Anna was shouting in the Count's ear. Naismith had also mentioned he was largely deaf but in complete denial. Heavy indeed could be the burdens of a princess, Elsa thought with a grin, a grin that quickly faded as Prince Reinhardt took his place at her side, followed almost in lock step by Master Sandvik.

Reinhardt was a tall man, broad-shouldered, with blond hair reaching his collar. His eyes were blue, his uniform red and black. It wasn't, Elsa realized, that he had nothing remarkable about him, rather it was that he had all the remarkable features that men in his position, the ones who weren't old, infirm or lame, had. His height was as much a reflection of his station, where food was always plentiful, as his clothing or his physique. Princes had time to engage in sport that kept them fit without the early aging that hard work could bring. Elsa didn't begrudge him this, she was tall for the same reason as well, and her hands didn't even have the callouses of an academic or bureaucrat, she having worn gloves for so long. But she was reminded why she liked Kristoff, and indeed Carolina, so much. They had both had to work hard to get where they were. They both carried the scars and other marks of life. They had both lived in the real world, the one Elsa had been kept away from, the one that she found so interesting even if she recognized it could be harsh. It was highly unlikely Reinhardt knew the struggle of the world outside his castle. Elsa suspected that the dinner table would be a far less interesting place tonight.

"I'm sorry I'm late," Elsa said to the Prince. "I hope that you've been adequately entertained in my absence."

"A woman's prerogative, of course," Reinhardt replied with what he no doubt considered his most charming smile. "But yes, yes, Sandvik and I have been talking politics. Arendelle's trade dilemmas, the reopening of the court here … the sudden interest in Arendelle on the continent."

"Oh, really?" Elsa reached out and accepted the glass of wine the footman scurried over to bring her. She had a feeling she was going to need it and several more just like it. "And may I ask what conclusions you came to?"

"Oh nothing," Reinhardt said dismissively. "It was just a quick briefing really. I wouldn't want to bore you."

"Trust me, Your Highness, the economic and political fortunes of my own Kingdom do not bore me." Elsa's smile wavered only slightly.

"Call me, Reinhardt, please. Given the objectives of my visit, I don't think we need to be quite so formal."

Elsa knew what the polite response to that invitation was. She knew, but it rankled her that he had just presumed she would agree. Still he had only just arrived, it was rather early to decide she despised him. "Of course, Reinhardt." There was a noticeable pause. Both Sandvik and the Prince leaned forward waiting. "And you may, in private conversation, call me Elsa," she replied reluctantly, fully intending there would never be a private moment between them.

Other than that the Prince was well mannered, as Elsa expected him to be, escorting her in to dinner, holding her chair. He easily claimed his place at her side, as if he had been born to do it, which of course in his mind he had. Dinner proceeded without event. Nilssen and Reinhardt talked about some news from the continent: hunts and balls, and parties … things Elsa supposed she should know about, or care about, but really she didn't. Anna had engaged Mrs. Sandvik about something or another, Anna had that remarkable ability to talk at length about nothing. She had also gladly abandoned her charge the Count to Mrs. Nilssen, who had decided that pantomime was superior to shouting. All that Elsa was left to do was smile and laugh at the appropriate times, not spill her wine, and not freeze the table. However, that turned out to be harder than she had planned.

"So your sister is unmarried as well?" Reinhardt directed the question to Elsa, pulling her from her musings. "She's quite lively. You know I have a younger brother. He's not at all a bad fellow. Perhaps we might both come next time."

"Well no, actually she's ..." Elsa stopped as she realized this might not be the best time to discuss her sister's choice of a husband.

"I'm engaged." Anna said firmly. The rest of the conversation at the table died off immediately.

Sandvik wrinkled his brow. "To whom?" he asked. He turned to Elsa, "And why does the Council not know of this yet?"

"To Kristoff," Anna replied loudly, to pull his attention back. Why didn't he talk to her? She was the one who was engaged, not Elsa. Her chin was held high, pointed in the councilman's direction, as she summoned her best "I am the Princess of Arendelle" voice, which really she needed to practice more often. "We just haven't announced it yet. I mean, we have to get a ring. I mean, we will announce it when we're ready." Then she dropped her head and gave him a look that said volumes about the role she felt the Council should play in her private life. "Not that I think that it's any of the Council's concern. It's not like I'm marrying them."

"Kristoff?" Sandvik recoiled in shock. "That … the ice harvester?"

"Yes, the very one." Elsa leveled a stern gaze on the elder statesman. She hoped it was sufficient warning.

It wasn't. "Oh … oh my. How irregular. How unfortunate." Sandvik looked to the Prince, talking as if they were alone in the room. "He's nothing more than a commoner, a peasant really."

Reinhardt frowned. "Really?" he asked Elsa. "And you support this?" Unlike Sandvik he seemed more uncomprehending than insulted, as if this possibility had never occurred to him.

Elsa wanted to be generous, hoping that Reinhardt's comment was meant to be a polite exit from an uncomfortable conversation, but in her heart she knew it was not. Sandvik, on the other hand, was treading on her last nerve. He didn't have to be happy about the unexpected announcement, but by god he'd be civil if he wanted to remain in her presence.

"Master Bjorgman is perfectly acceptable to me," Elsa intoned. She made the point with the honorific to remind the Master Sandvik that with Kristoff's recently conferred title he was of the same rank the council member himself was. "Therefore he is perfectly acceptable to our royal household, and will be to the Council."

Sandvik heard the warning this time and had the good sense to begin examining his plate in detail. His wife seemed to be trying to kick him under the table, but it was too wide across for her to reach.

"My sister is not going to be auctioned off like breeding stock to some man she doesn't love." Elsa glanced at the Prince. "No offense intended," she added stiffly.

"Uh, none taken," he replied a note of anxiety coming into his voice.

Elsa continued, managing to modulate her tone back into something more conversational, but her annoyance was still flaring. "I am pleased that my sister has found a man she loves, and who will love her back. The Kingdom will be strengthened by their bond. I know that I am certainly made better by it." Elsa looked again to the man at her side. "That is what is important, yes? That the Kingdom is made stronger."

"Well ..." the Prince was staring at the table, licking his lips nervously. Ice was creeping slowly down the table and threatening to engulf his plate.

"Oh, sorry," Elsa made a gathering motion with her hand, and the ice was pulled back in a spray of crystals that dissolved into nothing. "That happens when I'm upset." She shot another glare at Sandvik.

Anna laughed, breaking what was a lengthening uncomfortable silence. "Yeah, that's my sister, the one with the ice magic, and a bit of a temper." The Princess shrugged. "But you know relatives, what can you do? You can't kill them ..." now everyone was looking at her, in shock, and she blushed as she realized the hole she was digging. "You know especially if they're … uh ... the queen."

Elsa covered her mouth with her hand. Her annoyance fell away as she watched her sister trying to diffuse the situation in her singular style. Perhaps she should help.

"No, Anna, I'm not sure that's true at all," she said with as much dry aplomb as she could manage. "I killed you at least once after all, so I suppose really I owe you or something like that?"

Anna let out another round of giggles. Sandvik and his wife looked back and forth from the Princess to the Queen like uncomfortable spectators at some regicidal tennis match, the Baron and his wife were pretending they couldn't hear the conversation, Count Wabsinske actually couldn't, and the Prince was staring straight ahead, no doubt trying to remember what his etiquette teacher had said about dealing with royalty tainted by insanity.

"So," Elsa gave the Prince a dangerous smile. "As you see my sister isn't available." She looked over at the footman who was standing impassively, waiting to serve and then raked her eyes back over the guests at her table. "Shall we have dessert?"

A/N: This chapter is dedicated with great depth of feeling to Concolor44. ;)