Author's Note:

A new chapter! Hooray! This one was really fun to write for some reason. Enjoy!

The Black Ram Tavern was desolate and mostly empty when Freja and Rosie arrived. The bartender was preparing for the day, rubbing absent-mindedly on pint glasses, and a few barmaids were meandering around the room, sweeping up the remnants of last night's events. Peanut shells, bread crumbs and puddles of stale rum littered the ground, and Freja withstood the yearning to plug her nose as she crossed the tavern.

Behind the counter, the bartender nodded a subtle greeting at the women as they neared him. Then he looked up, recognition dawning on his face. His queen stood before him! Here, in his tavern! In her… nightgown? Two palace guards flanked her, looking alertly around the room. The barmaids stopped the work in surprise as their employer stammered.

"Your Highness!... I… It's a pleasure to have you here… what can I do for you this morning?"

"Thank you," Rosie said, "We are looking for someone, a Mr. John Carney Will—"

"Carney?" the bartender scratched his head, "What are you looking for him for?"

Rosie glanced at Freja. Her sister's fragile state was still very prevalent, no matter the brave face she wore now. Freja nodded and spoke up.

"He's wanted for kidnapping. Do you know where he is?" This didn't feel like the time for gracious formalities and niceties. The Queen of Arendelle's voice was tight and authoritative.

The bartender's eyes widened as he glanced from one young woman to the other. Realization had struck. Suddenly, the fact that the queens were standing in their nightdresses in his tavern made perfect sense. That scumbag, Carney! Heat welled up in his face. How dare the man even set foot under his roof!

"He's rented a room. He's still here, I think. Follow me, Your Highnesses."

He led the way down the narrow corridor, Freja, Rosie, and the soldiers trailing behind him. His tone hushed, the bartender halted and motioned at a closed door, taking out his key and unlocking it.

"That's his room."

Rosie motioned. Without a word, the guards threw their weight against the door, and it opened easily.

Jolted out of slumber by a loud cracking sound, Carney flinched and rubbed his eyes with his arm. What was going on out there that made such a racket so early in the morning? It was all he had time to think before strong arms lifted him harshly from his bed and rammed his body against the wall. He grunted in pain and surprise, his eyes opening suddenly.

The bartender, Archie, stood before him, the man's huge hands holding Carney tightly by the collar of his shirt, his eyes tense and angry. Carney was about to demand an explanation, then he looked over Archie's shoulder. Queen Primrose and the Queen of Arendelle stood behind him, their bodies rigid, staring Carney straight in the eye, and a couple of palace soldiers were on Archie's other side, their hands ready on their swords. Realization struck him like a bolt of lightning and his jaw clamped shut.

Archie's eyes narrowed as they bore into him, and Carney recognized at that moment just how devoted the bartender was to the royal family. Staying at this tavern had been a mistake.

"Carney," Archie said, and it was evident that he was trying very hard to control himself, "Her Majesty would like to have a word with you."

Queen Primrose moved forward a step. Carney had never seen her like this. All the time he had spent in Corona, he had only ever witnessed her in over-elegant dresses, her hair combed perfectly, and a smile plastered to her face. Today, it was easier to imagine her as a commoner, although her nightdress was quite high-end, and, for some reason, that made her a bit more intimidating. At least made her more… real.

But what could she know, really. She couldn't prove anything!

She spoke, and her voice was hard. Hard and fiercely protective, "Where is Alazair?"

"I don't know who you're talking about, I'm sure, your Highness…"

"Hah!" shouted the Arendelle Queen from behind her sister, and Carney rolled his eyes internally. "You are lying, Mr. Carney! I know you know who he is, because you introduced me to him. And, we have a witness that places you two together a few nights ago…"

"A night when a couple of my citizens were murdered in their own home!" Queen Primrose finished.

A witness? Who knew… then Carney growled to himself. That boy. Clyde's little brat of a son had ratted him out. The bartender's grip tightened on Carney's shirt collar, pushing him deeper into the wall, and he grimaced uncomfortably.

"Where's my daughter, Mr. Carney?" said Queen Freja. She started inching forward slowly, and Archie hissed, "You'd best watch yourself, John. You know, hell hath no fury like a woman's scorn, and nothing brings a woman more scorn than messing with her child."

Carney stifled a nervous gulp. Even if he wanted to tell, even if he was pardoned (something he found very unlikely to happen), Alazair would still go to great lengths to make sure that he died in the most horrific and painful way possible.

Freja had drifted closer, until she was standing directly in front of him, staring him square in the face. Fire burned deep in her eyes, and she looked as though she was using every bit of effort not to reach up and strangle him with her bare hands.

She asked again, "Tell me where she is. Where did Alazair take her? Tell me, and when we find her, and we will find her, whether you help us or not, I'll make sure you only go to prison… and trust me, you wouldn't like the alternative." Her voice was surprisingly calm, but so calm and controlled that it was incredibly unnerving.

Carney's mind raced. He tried to think about what Alazair would do to him, the horrible methods of torture that he would use, but the queen's stare filled his mind and soul and very being. She was going to murder him on the spot.

"I…" he began, then stopped and shook his head. Archie slammed him against the wall, "Spit it out, man!"

"The dam."

There. He'd done it now.

"What?"

"The old abandon dam in Cronin Wood. That's where he's taking her."

Freja's fierce presence was dulled slightly, hope flicking in her face, but still, she glared into him, "What does he want with her?"

Carney laughed at that. He grinned down at the queen. He knew alright. Alazair had raved about it enough. "The child of Edvard Beteran will be incredibly powerful. What do you think?"

Eyes widened all around the room, but none were more full of shock than Freja's.

"What are you talking about?" she stammered, "Elsa is not that monster's daughter."

"Of course not. Not biologically, anyways. But she has inherited his power, his soul."

Seeing how shaken the Queen of Arendelle became in those few short seconds gave Carney a satisfied feeling, and he grinned wickedly. But his smile faded as Freja's forearm pressed against his throat. The pressure wasn't immense, nothing near what he was used to in this business, but he had never expected it from her. And that look in her eyes… it made him feel like he was standing between a mother bear and her cub.

"Elsa is my daughter. And Stellan's daughter. And she has nothing to do with Edvard Beteran. Not an ounce of her being is from him, not an ounce of her soul, do you understand me?"

Carney nodded curtly. No point getting her more worked up.

Rosie motioned to the soldiers, and Carney winced and they slapped handcuffs onto his wrists with all the gentleness of a hail storm.

The last thing that Carney saw before being dragged from his room was the face of the Queen of Arendelle. Freja had become quite red, he assumed from anger, and her jaw was set tightly, like she was bracing herself for impact. And she wore a look of such determination that Carney could not help but wonder how prepared Alazair was for the oncoming storm.

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