The times were changing and many found it a blessing to be had. For the Kingdom of Arendelle would enjoy its newfound peace, not just from the peace treaty with the Southern Isles, but also the newfound relationship with the people of Northuldra as the royal family got back together again. As the former parents of Queen Elsa and Princess Anna caught up for the lost time, the citizens of a long dead nation moved on from the shadow that was once the Soviet Union. More refugees arrived, no longer having to deal with the stress of Metro and the hostile post-apocalypse wastelands on the surface and in the darkness. Many souls found themselves caught in the joys of green grass and blue skies, all without a gas mask.
It was a chapter for the new life ahead of them but Artyom found that moment to be an end of one as well. The stations in the outer territories would be the first to evacuate their homes and travel to Polis before being transitied towards the D6 underground complex to enter the foreign land that had been the talk of the people. His people would be among them and it would be his regret if the young man did not pay his homeworld one last visit. Colonel Mel'nikov would have been furious with him, given his rank and social status but the soul within desired some measure of closure the world he once knew.
He stood on the platform and stole one last look at his home station. The last of his people were gathering their things and leaving this place behind for good. It was a good and safe decision; yet, it did little to ease the small tragedy that would take place. Every ounce of his years flashed before his eyes from childhood memories of hanging out with friends or drawing on the neighbor's hovel. The massive celebrations that took place for a great sale or the coming of the holidays when the pigs were fat enough to be slaughtered. The great terrors that stalked among the innocents with his step-father trying to alleviate fears or quiet whispers about the coming of the Dark Ones. All of this would be left behind and he would never return to the place that raised him. Somehow, he could hear the ghostly echoes of laughter, a reminder of a different place and time.
A hand clasped onto his shoulder as the Polis Ranger turned his head to the right and found Sukhoi standing beside him. "My boy, the last of the baggage train is ready. We're waiting on you."
"I know." He said, unsure of the fate that was in store for him but also of the life he was leaving behind. "It's just… this will be the last time that I will say farewell to Exhibition."
His stepfather smiled and patted his hand against his back. "You are not alone there. A choice like this is never easy but there is a time when all things must end. We have to go, after all, Mikhail wants you to prepare for the coronation."
"Still. My heart feels like it won't let go of this place."
"Can't envy you." He said. "At the very least, we left something behind to show the world what happened to us. A shrine to our hopes, dreams, and the future we lost. This place is merely a mausoleum for the fallen and I think it is time to let them rest now." Then he turned away while his boots tapped against the cold floor of the platform behind the prince of Imperial Russia. Artyom remained for a few minutes and let his eyes memorize one final look before he would turn away. Where others would see an empty station, the power of his granted him a glimpse look at the shadows of those who once lived here, stranger and familiar faces alike.
His eyes closed and turned away with a small tear dripping over his cheek.
Setting up the coronation required the tsar to confer with his ministers over the matter of his grandson. The news of Artyom's birthright was a shocking development for Imperial Russia as many presumed that Mikhail's bloodline would end with him and another family would take over. Yet, a successor to the throne had not been chosen until now. It all occurred on short notice, catching the surprise of everyone involved but Prince Vaska remained silent and still as the old men argued against the preparations. Despite their efforts, the emperor was insistent on securing the heir's place thanks to his aging health.
What truly irked his advisors was the knowledge of the world that the prince would bring based on what few glimpses of information they received about the Soviet Union. Many would desire that he be acquainted with the ways of the royal court and become accustomed to the reality that the empire was not welcoming to those used to more 'liberal' lifestyles. Fortunately, the old man's health presented itself when he coughed and spat blood on his handkerchief - his days were numbered. Time was the only obstacle from death taking over his soul and so he was putting his affairs in order. His firm determination to reinforce his decision convinced the ministers to comply with the command. The coronation would proceed as planned while news would reach out to the rest of the nation and the world about the arrival of a figure only seen through his connection with the Queen of Arendelle.
Once the nation's advisors were dismissed from his office, Mikhail slumped into his chair and coughed one more time. His head looked around until his gaze caught Vaska Dolokhov standing behind a couch within the ornate room. "Bastards. They are my trusted advisors but are bastards when it comes to succession. They want some other family to take up the mantle of responsibility with an iron fist."
"Can you blame them?" His response was sound given their reasons for being distrustful of the everchanging world becoming more hostile to the traditions of old. It also wasn't helped by a group of rioters in St. Petersburg attempting to demand political freedom akin to the lands further west. Then there was the Decembrist plot before it was put down by loyalist regiments. Artyom was not acquainted with these affairs of power. "They don't believe Marya's son is ready for what you deal with on a daily basis."
"I'm inclined to disagree. If he has survived on his own in the wilderness of his world, managing a collection of factions who despise each other, I think he'll do fine once he is seated on that throne." He replied as a counterargument.
"That's not the same."
"Come now!" Mikhail replied in disbelief as he grabbed his bloodied handkerchief and tossed it into a trash can beside his desk. "He was raised as Sukhoi's son and practically learned as he grew up in those tunnels. We should grant him a chance at the very least, after he is coronated today."
He was moving too quickly with the coronation and everyone else was trying to keep up with his objective as he stepped forward and stood before his superior. "Are you sure we should make him tsar as of right now? We should at least put some preparation into what is effectively a once-in-a-lifetime affair."
His hand dismissed the concern. "Who wants to spend hours with a proper procession? I can't afford to stand and sit with a room full of representatives. Though, it is a shame we are not doing it in Moscow." That city was the historical and cultural capital of the nation despite the significance of St. Petersburg. Should any coronation take place, it would occur there and yet his ears told him that they were breaking tradition from the tsars of old.
"I suppose it has to do with the matter of performing on short notice."
"No," Mikhail answered as his head looked over to the nobleman in the room, "Artyom is spending his last moments in his world before he joins us. I asked him if he wanted to see the city he loved but he told me it wouldn't be the same. Who am I to deny the requests of the upcoming emperor? I suppose it's not worth sparking the bad memories he had there."
The information was enough to sate his curiosity but grasped a greater understanding with Princess Marya's son. All it did was trouble him of the future; yet, it was a way of life for the Romanov bloodline. One day, he would set forth and learn the truth about those lands. Now was not the time for there was a coronation to be held and the public to be notified. "Should I head out and inform the newspapers about the events?"
"Yes, I'm sure the public would like some degree of transparency. Plus, one would imagine why I brought along the finest regiments of the empire to Arendelle in the first place." He said, affirming his suggestion. Soon the prince turned around and made his way towards the door. Vaska was about to leave the office until the man continued. "Queen Elsa should be arriving and I'm damned sure that Artyom would be keen on seeing her during the coronation. Welcome her as if she is one of our own. Those two are quite close to ignoring the matter."
Prince Dolokhov stopped and turned to smile at the emperor. "Of course. We owe it to her family that the throne has a prince."
It was not long until Artyom used the teleporter stakes to arrive in the halls of the Winter Palace at the city of St. Petersburg. During his time in the Moscow Metro, it went by the name of Leningrad and he did not know why. Nonetheless, his arrival did not go unnoticed as the servants and guards were quick to acknowledge his newfound status as the prince of Imperial Russia. This was much different from the life he had at Arendelle, where the locals were much more lively and less focused on social formality. The more he thought about that initial impression, the more he considered life on the throne, experiencing solitude at every turn. It would be a daunting task; however, he was fortunate that the journeys in his life brought him some friendships that would help in that regard.
Then Elsa came into mind, granting a smile upon his face. He was certain that he wouldn't be alone in that experience while having someone to confide his soul into. It would be a strange life, one that would somehow be alien to him, but he eased the worry by considering that the life of a newly-crowned emperor was a few steps above a post-apocalypse survivor.
The young man sat down on a couch in the luxurious and decorated living room, where he and five others relaxed after he returned from the Moscow Metro through the teleporter stakes. Kristoff and Roman busied themselves looking through the bookshelves to his right, reading with gusto but he knew the former wasn't acquainted with the Russian language. Bourbon sat in a wooden rocking chair, his back against the corner while a small desk contained a black bottle and his arm resting over his eyes. Uhlman sat across from him, biding his time reading the local newspaper and drinking tea from porcelain cups with elaborate blue ink artistically etched into the whitening background. Everyone here needed it for it was their only moment of respite until the coronation began.
"Your grandfather is really pushing your coronation through." Said the veteran Polis Ranger as he lowered the papers and took a small sip from the cup placed at the center of the table. His tone was much more concerned with current events than acting like his usual humorous self. "Said here that he ordered the coronation to take place at Petersburg instead of Moscow."
Artyom leaned back as soft pillows pressed against his spine. "Is it a big deal?"
"Moscow is the historical and cultural capital of the nation. Tsar Mikhail is breaking a lot of tradition since the royal coronations take place there."
"They won't stop the coronation right now, will they?" Voiced the ice harvester reaching around for another book.
"Eh, from the looks of it, it's a compromise they're willing to accept. Said that the emperor's health is getting worse over time. Honestly, I can't blame him, considering the times and how often old fellows like him rarely reach that age." Uhlman casually answered as he flipped through the pages of the newspaper.
Here he was, expecting to spend some time with his real family but now it was becoming worse as time passed by. Despite it all, he would still cherish the few moments with his grandfather as soon as the coronation got started. "The anticipation is killing me. How long am I going to wait until they finally put that damned golden ornament on my head?"
"Be careful what you wish for, kid," Bourbon remarked as he followed his words with a chuckle and sat upright in his chair, "This is a once-in-a-lifetime occasion where you'll end up in the history books. Get your shit in order and pray you're fully ready to look good for the cameras."
A pair of doors burst open from behind Artyom's back as he turned his head and saw Pavel enter the room. His appearance was much cleaner than before and was surprisingly wearing a double-sided frock coat in dark green and black bloomer trousers of the Imperial Russian Army. "Comrade-prince, the Arendellian royals are entering the harbor. Everyone, it's time to take a bath and get dressed."
"Never thought you would wear something like that. Especially, for a soldier of the Red Line." The heir commented.
"I'll be honest, this looks very good on me. The rest of you have your uniforms waiting in your rooms."
Roman spoke up and voiced his opinion. "I don't need a bath! I'm fine as I am."
"Chuvak, I would be safer than sorry," He replied, "All of us are used to smelling like shit but the last thing I need to is to be on the newspaper about how our smell could be weaponized for war. Now get going."
The coronation of the tsar was made on short notice and she was fortunate enough that the currents favored her ship's sails. It was unlike anything she had seen after the Arendellian royalty entered St. Petersburg. When compared to her kingdom's town before the fjord, the city was fully urbanized with streets and housing to reveal the full scale of the city's lengths. Yet, all did not matter when she was brought before the front of the Winter Palace by carriage.
It was here that the main courtyard was filled with peasants and commoners alike, who had been dressed for the occasion but held back by a disciplined line of soldiers standing at attention - a strange mixture between the Imperials and the recently clean-shaven ranks of the post-apocalypse Russians. A set had been staged outside as Eastern Orthodox priests patiently waited for the oncoming nobles to take their seats for the rows laid before them. Anna brushed past and grabbed her by the wrist. "Let's go, we have to get the first seats!"
She looked back to find her parents cut off by the crowd but her father waved his hand above and shouted. "Go ahead, we'll be fine."
The assurance eased her mind as the sisters rushed forward to the foremost set of chairs. Their haste did not go unnoticed as Elsa stole glances from the passing nobles, catching their whispers and stares in her direction. The atmosphere was palpable with their curiosity before the two took their seats and faced the front. Seconds of waiting turned into minutes while the sun began to set. Most of the women at this occasion were wearing the latest fashion of white dresses while hers purple apparel was at least a decade older.
A cold chill ran down her spine when a moment of Deja Vous occurred, reminding the royal of the past. The position had been reversed but the queen couldn't help but compare her coronation to Artyom's. Every single detail was the opposite of one another the longer the mind pondered about ceremony. Despite the looks from the men and women earlier, her love would have the eyes of the world upon him. It did bring worry since she had to make every preparation perfect for that moment; however, the short notice of the affair left little imagination that the Russian was being rushed through every cultural aspect relevant to this moment. Here, she had no envy of the prince waiting to become emperor for that was a shared experience the monarch could relate to.
When the last of the guests arrived, servants stepped out of the Winter Palace and began to make their way towards the podium where the makeshift chair resided. A middle-aged man with pitch-black hair stood in front of the entire crowd with his back straightened and tuxedo clean of wrinkles. "Ladies and gentlemen, I am proud to announce the arrival of his highness - please rise for Prince Artyom Alexeivich Romanov."
Out from the palace came a reluctant royal entering the spotlight of an entire nation staring at him and the tsar. Where the tsar was in the uniform of the Russian hussars, Artyom was clad in the green cashmere of Preobrazhensky Guard. His stride was firm and precise while his face smiled at those he would call his people. As everyone rose from their chair, Elsa caught a glimpse of his eyes and grasped the trepidation within his soul as he approached the podium. It would be overwhelming for him since she knew how stressful an event such as this can be.
The servant in the tuxedo stepped aside and bowed to the emperor and his grandson. Here, they stood before the empty chair while the Patriarch of Russia and his towered over them. Beside him were his servants carrying pillows containing artifacts and symbols of the Russian throne. Their importance was paramount and he would be a tasked to make himself presentable to the world.
Church servants broke rank and began to adorn him with the regalia. He was handed the sceptar and orb while the priest gave him an approving nod to the young man before him. Then the Russian prince turned around and faced the citizens of his nation while the priests committed themselves to a long prayer. A silence was granted between the audience and the participants until they finished with the last sentence. The Patriarch reached for the crown and walked over to the young man, planting the final piece into place. "In the Holy Father's name, all hail Tsar Artyom of Imperial Russia."
"Long live the emperor! Long live the emperor! Long live the emperor!" The crowd shouted in that moment.
It was a relief to see him genuinely happy but then his gaze fell upon her. Blood began to rush into her head and Queen Elsa found herself embarrassed to lose all composure. Her old habit question on whether or not she would maintain her regal composure towards others; however, the tsar would be an exception in her life.
Men and women clapped or cheered, all of whom eager to grant their thanks towards the newly-crowned ruler of an empire. As the priests reclaimed the artifacts from the tsar's person, the next part of his coronation had him continue his procession towards the crowd of nobles and commoners expressing their affection towards him. Flanked by Prince Vaska Dolokhov and the Mikhail at his side, they would have been lost in an ocean of people seeking to display their respect for him. Yet, he stopped his followers and slipped the others. Much to her surprise, she hadn't considered him breaking protocol simply to seek her out.
When he stood before her, Anna couldn't hold her reaction. "Artyom, what are you doing?!"
"You don't mind if I steal your sister for a second?" He answered in a humorous tone before turning towards the Queen of Arendelle as he presented his arm. "Your majesty, would you like to accompany me?"
"How could I say no?" Elsa answered as she slipped her arm around his. It was a decision in the moment but there was no regrets in doing so. They walked together, side-by-side, surprising the others as they rejoined the procession. She stole a look from Mikhail and Vaska, both of whom, smiled and approved her acceptance with a nod.
Then they continued as fully-fledged lovers.
Three hours after Artyom spent time visiting the rest of St. Petersburg with his royal entourage, they returned to the Winter Palace to enjoy an evening of celebration in the night. Pavel was not a man to have been tired by most events in life but the stress of seeing his friend formally transform from a Polis Ranger of the Spartan Order into a the Tsar of all Russia was a sight to behold. Especially, when it came to his communist ideals being at odds with such concepts. Despite his feelings on the matter, the major of the Red Line consoled himself by counting the number of traditions that were being broken for his comrade.
The ballroom was filled with splendor and decor. Nobles and high-ranking government officials from across the Russian empire and the leaders from across the post-apocalyptic lands of the former Soviet Union were present. Here, they enjoyed themselves with an entire band playing classical music to fit with the atmosphere of rare social gatherings between men and women of such influence. Tables of food and drink were available for all with servants carrying trays of glass wines to those seeking to quench their thirst. At the center of the room, dozens of men and women freely danced underneath the glimmer of the chandelier from above.
He wanted to pull out his cigarette to smoke but the officer figured that it would spoil the mood while he leaned against a marble pillar. To his left, Artyom and Elsa sat together at a table eating - the latter helping the former eat with mannerisms fit for a ruler. Another table, not far from the couple, the parents of the Arendellian throne were keeping watch on their daughter as they too talked among themselves and enjoyed the scenery as parents. Every single person he encountered, from the militarized society of Novosibirsk Metro and the fishing city of Vladivostok intermingled with the blue-bloods of this world, creating a strange collage of people thanks to their various backgrounds. Just one year ago, none of this would have been possible and might have been laughed at among the few circles in the Red Line.
A finger tapped him by his shoulder as the soldier turned around to find Princess Anna giggling. Her yellow dress reflecting off the lights of the candles. "Got some chocolates, hungry?" She had pulled a plate of heart-shaped chocolates in his direction.
"I appreciate the offer." He replied before he eagerly tossed two inside his mouth. It was much more crunchy than he expected but the sweetening taste did not fail him. "Are you enjoying the party?"
"Yeah. I didn't think Artyom would pull my sister out of the crowd like that. Just thought it would be like Elsa's coronation." The memory of the past resurfaced from the back of his mind. Just to think it was more than half a year ago.
How time flashes by.
"So… how do you feel about me after what we went through? I remember when you said that you'd stand against me since I was a princess."
He lowered his head for that shameful moment when his ideology clashed with his own personal liking for her. Communism espoused the ideals of equality for all and Pavel was all too eager to adhere to its tenets. Despite its shadow looming over his soul, the time he spent with Artyom and the Arendellian royals turned him into its biggest hypocrite. "I know." The major shook his head before Anna's kidnapping at the hands of the Caspian bandits. "Will you forgive me?" His head turned to see her honest reaction.
A warm and genuine smile was offered as she stepped forward and stood by his side. Then the royal tipped upward and granted him a kiss on his cheek. "Apology accepted. Ever since we met in the Metro, you became my knight in shining armor, even if you wear a bit of red."
"I cannot tell if you're trying to flattery me or not."
"I'm not like Elsa."
They both laughed as she leaned against his body and he wrapped his around her shoulder. She had been a dream come to life, one that came to him on a silver platter. He did not know how his superiors at the Red Line would react to one of their own forming a relationship with a princess. Yet, they took a side in favor of defending her kingdom from Prince Hans and the Southern Isles. Perhaps the beliefs from the old world he once called home were truly dead and its survivors cling to the past to find some solace and purpose in their lives.
His attention was taken elsewhere when he looked back to the rest of the ballroom and saw the dancing among the men and women cease. Then it all changed when he noticed the recently-crowned tsar and Queen Elsa rise from their table. Artyom slightly bowed his head and extended his hand out to his love before she grabbed his hand, both walking over to the center of the room. The royal duo turned to face each other, one set of arms interlocked and a set of hands holding each other as they closed the gap between their torsos. Then they began their dance with the Waltz as musicians changed songs, adjusting to their moods. "To think that this Emperor of Russia was once my kingdom's stable boy. They deserve each other at this point."
Pavel remembered Artyom's promise during that quiet evening in Versailles. That one time he saw him at his most emotionally vulnerable moment. Perhaps he was going to break the news to his girlfriend of the man's intentions. "He's going to marry her, I can at least promise that."
"How can you be so sure?" She turned her head to him, expressing absolute surprise.
"From the man himself. The question isn't an 'if' but a 'when' he'll pull out the golden ring."
Hours continued into the evening. One-by-one, people retired from the celebration and the halls of the Winter Palace lessened with time. After the dance before the public, Tsar Artyom and Queen Elsa left the ballroom and isolated themselves from the rest of the guests and dignitaries who remained. The lovers sought out an empty balcony overlooking the waters into the city's harbors, underneath the moonlit sky.
The Arendellian monarch was quick to reach the railings and look up at the stars in the void. He casually strolled after her, stopping halfway as she let out a deep breath. He had planned for this moment after returning from the Moscow Metro and his coronation at this city. Before his final goodbye to his home, he had taken the time to prepare a ring at Martin's blacksmith with the hopes of finalizing his dreams with her. He was interrupted when she broke the silence. "How you do feel? You handled being in the public eye a lot better than I imagined."
"Perks of being the son of a station commander." The Polis Ranger answered, using his past as Sukhoi's son to convey his experience to her. "I'm familiar with being in front of authors… just never used nor excelled at it."
"You better get used to it. I have the luxury of living in a small kingdom but you have the expectations of an entire empire to worry about."
"At the very least, there's decent food to be had. I think that meal was the most I've ever ate in a single day." He humored her as his hand reached for his pocket, where his ring was encased in a soft black box. The tsar brought the piece out and opened it, seeing the freshly polished golden ring embedded into the soft fabric. Artyom smiled, it was a huge risk, one he was all too willing to commit himself to after spending time with the royals of Arendelle. It was not long before he fully knelt to one knee as the sword attached to his side tapped against the ground.
Patience was all he had as he anticipated for the moment to come. Then Elsa began to turn her head. "We should-" Her sentences ceased to be made when she turned around and saw him present the golden ring. The queen's eyes widened as he breath was stolen from her while her gloved hand was placed on her chest. "A-Are you proposing to me?"
The emperor gave her a slight nod. "Yes, I am. After the war was declared over, I used Martin's workshop to make my own ring. It was to keep anyone from being suspicious but I made it for you." Now was the time to profess his soul to her. Elsa deserved better than the treachery of a prince seeking her throne. He wasn't too sure of himself; however, the Russian fought and bled for her hand. The friendship that once flourished had transformed into something more… pure and he intended to display those feelings once and for all. "Queen Elsa of Arendelle, will you… will you marry me?"
"You really went out of your way to do this for me?" She said before covering her hands covered her mouth. She couldn't seem to keep back her tears before approaching him and his ring. When the queen revealed her expression, she laughed at this precious moment before reaching out to take the jewelry from the box. The metal gleamed underneath the moonlight before her next words revealed her intentions. "Yes." Soon after, she slipped the metal ring onto her left hand and continued to inspect it as he rose from one knee, the weight of failure no longer on his shoulders. "It was a long time coming and I'm glad you asked."
Artyom was taken aback when his queen jumped onto him and wrapped her arms around, giggling for this joyous occasion. He decided to grab her by the waist and spin her around the balcony, entertaining and showcasing his heart's excitement until he set his fiance's feet to the ground. His voice got the better of him, professing his feelings without any restraint. "I loved you from the day we first met, even when my mind was not there."
Elsa gave him an intimate kiss upon his lips until she broke contact and hugged him. "And I love you for allaying my fears when I had no one else to turn to." He let out a deep sigh, relieved by these reciprocated feelings.
The sky crackled and his senses heightened for a moment, combat experience demanding that he take cover. Yet, he stood his ground while the Arendellian royal pointed upwards into the sky as bright flashing lights appeared.
"Ah, fireworks!"
More came with thundering applause with a timing to great as the duo looked up at the pyrotechnics being fully unleashed artistically as possible. The explosion of many colors roared but his mind sensed a familiar presence nearby. It was hiding in plain sight; however, taking the full advantage of the surrounding distraction to make its presence known. The tsar looked around, seeking out the possibility of a Dark One trying to contact him until his gaze fell upon the rooftops of the Winter Palace. The eldritch horror knelt onto one knee, it's mutated skin blending with the blackness while the lengthy body minimized it's profile despite the reflection of the lights.
Time began to slow but it clearly wanted to have a conversation with him. It came to congratulate him on finding a happy end, for their orchestrated his destiny to be here. In-between his choice of attacking the Dark Ones with the missiles or damning himself before all those he called comrades and friends, they had provided him a third option to ease his conscience. These were no mere creatures of the apocalypse but something far more… defining. Artyom would end up finding salvation for his people, not in ways he would expect, but still be evermore meaningful.
This world was their gift to survivors of the nuclear war as their reality was beginning to fall at the seams and they would be it's unknowing guardians. Their race showed great sympathy to humanity's plight, going so far as to risk death and bloodshed to grant a life for his kind. Even further, the mutants expressed great apologies to killing Hunter for he was a great man that deserved to be a greater father. For that, he forgave them of that past sin as such tragedies was the way of the Moscow Metro.
The day of his coronation would be the last time they would see him again as his second chance of living a full life had been achieved. It would be an unbelievable story if he wrote it down but the Dark Ones preferred secrecy as it seemed that their existence often made humans uncomfortable. Rather, they wanted to be the invisible hand that guided a former citizen of the Soviet Union to become the Tsar of Imperial Russia. Artyom had grown accustomed to their presence and helpful aid, now he would genuinely miss their kind. Such was the reality, one he accepted while thanking them for the assistance in the dire moments as a survivor of the wasteland.
It was not long until the creature fully stood up from atop the rooftop and waved its hand at him. A part of the Russian wanted to cry, like seeing a friend leave forever in his life. In a blink of an eye, it was gone, nowhere to be sought out just as it intended. Nonetheless, it didn't soften the emotional blow as he heard Elsa talk to him.
"Let's go see my family, we have to tell them about our engagement!"
He regained his senses and quickly turned to his beloved. It was time to move on and make the best of the time granted to him on the earth. The Queen of Arendelle and the Tsar of Russia walked together, heading back inside the palace to bring the news to the others. As the clock continued long into the night, thus ended the chapter for the Knight of the Apocalypse.
Author's Note: It has been a long time since I have genuinely completed a fanfic with this much care and effort. The last time I have properly completed a fic to the end was back in 2015, which only makes me feel older than I want to be. Out of all of my fanfiction crossovers, this perhaps takes the cake out of them all. Sure, it may not have the reader base to supply my dopamine but the story was just for me and me only. Someone had to do it and I finally glad it ended in the way I wanted it end, mostly. Now it's not perfect, even I must admit there is bound to be criticism of some details and plotholes that I've forgotten to patch or characters I've absolutely sidelined. Despite it all, there is a bit of contentment to be found when you've worked your way to the end. To those who have actually read my story and got to this final chapter, reading this blurb that you may have skimmed over, I thank you for sticking around.
So long and farewell, ladies and gentlemen.