Author's Note: Thanks everyone for your patience as I gathered my thoughts before the writing the next chapter. I am honestly making up every chapter as I come to it, so I have just as much of an idea about how this story will end as any of you readers! Also, thank you for everyone who is leaving such great, encouraging reviews! They are so motivating! This is the longest thing I have ever written and I think it's mainly because it's the first piece I've actually gotten so much feedback on. You guys are awesome! Hope you enjoy the next chapter. Last minute, I decided to shake things up a bit. Happy reading!

The kingdom of Corona woke gradually as the sun edged its way over the horizon. Sleep still hung on the air as the peddlers and shopkeepers rubbed their eyes and made their way to their various businesses. But one figure amongst the drowsy crowd was wide awake.

The six-year-old boy ran and skidded through the tired businesspeople, ducking under crates, leaping over planters, and slightly upsetting a window-washer setting up his high ladder. A torrent of foul language descended on him as he dashed away, leaving the window-washer gripping onto a building and struggling to steady the ladder with his legs. It wasn't until the child neared the town center that he slowed his pace, walking casually toward the baker's shop. The bread maker was just opening his counter, the freshly baked loaves and pastries catching the noses of everyone walking by. Creeping up to the open window, with the bread sitting on the shelf, the six-year-old took a deep sniff, his mouth watering. He glanced around him. Most everyone in the town center at this early hour was very busy setting up shop for the new day. No one would ever notice a dusty, brown-haired boy borrowing a few loaves of bread.

He reached up a small hand, steady and confident. He knew what he was doing. With one more quick look around, the boy snatched a hot loaf from the countertop. He stuffed it immediately in his shirt, blowing his hands to cool them. Then he grabbed another. Taking a large bite, he thrust that one into his clothing as well, the tears nearly welling up in his eyes from the heat of the bread in his mouth. Wrapping his arms around his now bulging shirt, the boy skipped away, leaving the poor baker none the wiser.

He sprinted back through the town, his feet slapping the ground hard as he ran down the winding, cobblestoned road. Most other children would get worn out long before, but he was used to this. Through the blue-green roved houses he ran, flying toward the bottom of the hill on which Corona sat. He could just see his destination now: a small house with its front facing the alley. From the outside, it looked very similar to all the other homes in the kingdom, except that its aqua paint was a bit faded. But the little boy knew that on the inside, the house was lacking. He jumped up the steep front steps in a single leap, pushing the door open with a very loud bang as he smacked his meager body weight into it.

"Eugene!" his mother cried out, throwing up her hands in surprise and dropping a bowl of yellowy-brown mash. The food splattered all over the dusty floor. On perfect queue, the boy look small and extremely guilt-stricken.

The woman sighed, holding her knees as she bent over to wipe up the spill.

"Why? Why do you have to enter a room like that, Eugene? Wouldn't it be easier to just open the door? And now look. Our breakfast is ruined!" she sat down heavily on the floor, placing a damp hand on her forehead. "Well, what do you have to say for yourself?"

Little Eugene walked over and patted his mother gently on the top of her head.

"It'll be okay," he piped, then pulled out the loaves of bread from behind his back with a grin.

His mother's jaw dropped.

"Eugene Fitzherbert, where did you get that bread?"

"From the bakers."

"Did the baker give you the bread, Eugene?"

The little boy kicked at the food-splattered kitchen floor. He looked up sheepishly at his mother.

"Sorry," he said, and tears welled up in his mother's eyes. She looked around at their breakfast on the ground, then at the bread. Eugene's belly rumbled loudly and he looked at the bread as well. The woman sighed sadly and pulled her son to her, looking him square in his beautiful brown eyes.

"It's okay, darling. But open the door a little quieter next time you come in. Can you do that for me?"

Eugene smiled and tossed his arms around his mother, squashing the bread between their bodies.

"Can we eat now?" he asked, his eyes fixed on his prize.

"Yes," his mother grinned, breaking one of the loaves in half, "Let's eat."

They were about to shove their new breakfast into their mouths when a loud rap on the door made them both jump. Eugene leapt up to answer it.

"Wait," said his mother, stuffing the stolen bread into one of the many bare cupboards in the kitchen. Then, "Okay."

The door was opened and a large man with a scruffy red beard entered. His voice was gruff and calm as he spoke to the woman, and although he was talking to her, his eyes went right through both her and the boy.

"I'm here for Clyde."

"Well, I'm his wife, Marta," said Eugene's mother, placing her hands on her hips and taking a step in front of her son.

"Carney," the man nodded. He just stood there, staring at Marta and Eugene for a minute. At last, she walked to the window and opened it, calling out into the garden. The sound of someone chopping wood drifted in through the window.

"Clyde! There's someone here for you!"

"Who's it?" came the reply.

"Some fellow called Carney."

The chopping stopped immediately. Within seconds, Eugene's father stood in the doorway, dirty and sweaty from his chore.

"Mornin', Mr. Fitzherbert," said Carney curtly.

Without a word, Clyde gestured for the other man to join him in the study. Or what would have been a study, if there were any furniture at all in it. Currently, it was just a small empty room, the floor covered in dust. As he closed the door, Clyde saw the faces of his wife and son. They looked frightened of this man. And they should be. He closed his eyes for a second, then turned to face Carney.

"So? What do you want?" he demanded roughly.

Carney smirked, "Gee, thanks, nice to see you too. How long has it been?"

"Not long enough."

"Well, you're the one putting up ads and flyers and all sorts of things, offering to work. Times are rough around here, eh? And you really should work on how you communicate with possible employers."

"Whatever the job is, I doubt it's legal. I have a family now, Carney! I can't…" Clyde was cut off when Carney pulled out a heavy-looking bag. He tossed it from one hand to the other, the contents jingling. Then he tossed it to Clyde.

"There's more where that came from. Plenty more. Enough to buy your family food for a decade or so, plus some actual beds. Clothes for the boy. Medicine for your wife."

Clyde's eyes flashed as he shot a look at Carney.

"Oh, I noticed she looked a little pale. Probably from lack of nutrients. You know, the whole eyes-sunken-in look. It's what happens to really hungry people."

"We get by," Clyde growled.

"Oh, I can see that," mused Carney, "Listen, about the job. It may be a tad on the less legal side of things. But nothing you do will hurt anybody. We just need some information."

Clyde felt the bag of coins in his hand. "What kind of information?"

Carney took a step closer and lowered his voice a notch. "Right now, the queen's sister is visiting."

"Queen Freja, yeah."

"Right. Well, we need to know when she's leaving to go back to Arendelle. And also, we need to be informed as soon as she has her baby."

"Why?"

"It's just a simple little robbery, Clyde. Nothing to worry about. Those royals have more power than they know what to do with as it is. What's taking a little weight off of their hands, eh?"

"But, why do you need to know about…" Clyde began.

"It's not in your job description to ask questions," Carney snapped. He grabbed the bag of money from out of Clyde's hand and held it up, swinging it back and forth by the string.

"You will get three times what is in here if you take the job. So, are you in or not? This is my last offer."

In the few seconds before Clyde agreed and snatched the bag back, several things ran through his mind. First, he thought about Carney. Back when they knew each other, Carney was a simple thief. Was he still that harmless? Clyde didn't know, but something had changed in the man's eyes. They were darker, haunted-looking. He thought about the queen, Freja. He really knew nothing about her, other than she used to be the Princess of Corona. Now she was the Queen of Arendelle. Sounds like a pretty good life in the lap of luxury. He thought of Marta and how sickly she had been looking lately. He thought of Eugene, his little boy who went to sleep on the floor every night with a growling stomach. And he thought about the money, and how much food and clothing it could buy for his family. Three seconds passed before Clyde Fitzherbert stuck out a stiff arm to his new employer.

"Done."