Author's Note:

Last chapter of Part 1 (which I had officially dubbed "The Ice Lord")! I am so happy I decided to write this story! I never thought I would have so much fun with fanfiction. And I honestly feel quite happy with my first story ever! I even wrote it all the way to the end. That doesn't happen to me much. Anyways, it's been great! Thanks so much for all you who commented and encouraged me along! It did make a great impact.

I hope to continue the story, some unknown Part 2 that I haven't planned much of yet. But I do intend to start writing it in the near future!

Happy reading! :)

Chapter 12

Three weeks later…

Autumn was back to its ordinary routine. The late October sky was crisp and bright and blue, and the air smelled of mist and dried leaves. Children ran and played again in the streets of Arendelle, and all around was a wonderful atmosphere of peace and relaxation. The snow was gone. The ice had melted away. Winter would come, like it was meant to, in a month or so, and this time Arendelle would welcome a mild chill and frosty window panes with open arms.

Standing on her balcony overlooking the courtyard, Queen Freja watched as the minute figures of children skittered up and down the cobblestoned roads, and she could just barely hear their laughing and singing on the soft breeze. She sighed happily and looked down. Her belly had grown quite a bit in the last few weeks. Freja smiled. In a few years, Elsa, too, would be running and playing in the courtyard and around the castle. How strange things would be then. So much would change. Perhaps, in a few years, she would have a sibling, a little brother or sister, and the two of them could have adventures together, exploring their brave new world.

The queen rubbed her lower back. She was sore, and was starting to feel a little top-heavy and unbalanced. Sliding down to rest on a stone bench, Freja let her arms fall limp over the side of the balcony, breathing in the glorious fall air. She was completely at peace.

With the exception of the miracle of her daughter, Freja had experienced no more traces of magic since the day Edvard had been defeated. And she was relieved. After all the kingdom had gone through at the hands of that awful sorcerer, she could only imagine their panic if anyone else should show signs of magic. Most likely, there would be an uprising of some sort. But no, whatever power Edvard's curse had transferred to her was gone, diluted away somewhere in her blood. There was nothing left to fear.

Somewhere, the sound of a finely tuned guitar graced the air, the music carrying on the wind all the way up to Freja's ears. She closed her eyes and listened to the soft tune.

Behind her, Stellan strode onto the balcony, wrapping his arms around her waist. He put his cheek against hers and followed her gaze, out across Arendelle, up toward the North Mountain. There was still snow there. It was unlikely it would thaw until next spring.

"My lady," said the king, softly, in Freja's ear, "Might I have this dance?"

Freja turned toward him, smiling. Oh, how she loved when he danced. She knew that when he danced, he was completely comfortable, and all of the world was at peace.

"You're dancing with two, you know," she giggled.

"Well, then I suppose I will have to be extra graceful," grinned Stellan, catching her by the elbows and twirling her around, lightly. She had to admit, he was getting better at it.

Pressing her cheek to her husband's chest, Freja hummed, echoing the strumming of the distant guitar. The king and queen danced slowly, watching as the sun set over Arendelle.

The bar at the inn was full. The man with the scraggly red beard pulled a rocky wooden chair up to a table in the corner of the room instead, and sat heavily on it.

"Good God. Is it always this crowded? Every bloke in Corona must be in here tonight."

The figure slouched in a second chair across from him shrugged.

"It's better this way. More noise. Less eavesdroppers. Any news?"

The red haired man nodded and leaned closer.

"Beteran is dead."

The second man raised his eyebrows in apparent amusement.

"Well, that's a waste. Although he was a bit eccentric."

The first man scoffed, "I'll say."

"But his powers… those were valuable beyond anything he could give himself. It's a shame they're lost."

"About that," said the red haired man, taking a swig from the bottle in front of him, "There still could be a way to harness it."

The slouched man suddenly became un-slouched, pulling back his gray hood ever so slightly, so that his eyes gleamed orange in the candlelight.

"What do mean, 'harness it?' Harness Beteran's power? How?"

The red haired man smiled, showing many missing teeth.

"There is another."