Dear Eugene,

I don't even know where to start. .. . I haven't stopped shaking since October because I thought I had lost you and precious Isolde forever. I forgot what it felt like to read good news until Captain Brøgger came into my bedchamber with your letter. You'll never know how relieved I am to know for certain that you and Isolde are alive, Eugene. I wanted so badly to write to you and beg you to evacuate to Arendelle if you didn't hate me already for being so useless to you. .. .

I tried to set things up to where I could get back to you with Captain Brøgger's help, but getting my letter into Corona almost cost him more than he could risk. Arendelle's messengers are banned from carrying deliveries from or into Corona until eighty-percent of your capital's population has been relieved of the Bovi Fever. The biggest problem with this policy aside from merely existing is the unavailability of the pigeon post in winter, which means that you and I won't have contact every winter from now on. If the pigeon post becomes a part of the ban this year, then we won't have any access to each other at all. To add insult to injury, I have and currently am being subjected to the Storting's version of your, "Care of King During Illness Act."

I did take your spring letter to heart — the one about me not feeling accessible to you all the time. You were right. I was being hypocritical. If I can have your permission to be real right now, I want to say that I can't allow you to be cut off from us ever again. I sent a carrier the Storting won't whine about, someone small and elusive enough to avoid being seen by your people.

You probably weren't any less afraid than they were when you first set eyes on him, but I hope he didn't frighten you enough to make you flatten him with a broomstick. I want you to pay attention to what I'm about to tell you if my message isn't too crumpled up for you to read. The letter you wrote on May 25th didn't find me until October 2nd because of everything that's happened. For more than forty days, one of the only things Anna and I could think about was, "When will we hear from Eugene again?" After October's horror story, we were left with crying, "Will we ever hear from Eugene again?"

I thought I had failed Rapunzel for good. I won't be able to handle feeling that way in another event. I can't expect myself to keep up with what lies ahead of us if I go on like this, so I want you to give me some peace of mind by leaving Corona with Isolde this month. Recovering from the ague has been hard for me because I know neither one of you are by my side. I know it's been even harder for you to be there all alone without any support from us; Anna has been writing in secret, but from the sounds of it, her letters haven't been reaching you at all.

I honestly feel like my recovery period was a waste of time that could've been spent on finding some other way to help you when you needed me the most. The Storting's ban still extends to me until they can agree on abandoning their so-called protection policies. In Grandpabbie's opinion, I'm not immune to flares of the Bovi Fever if it still persists in Hohendorf's overrun quarantines, and I'm sensitive to contagions in ways that others aren't. He says that if I come to blows with it again, I'll end up hurting myself and everyone else. That's why I need you and Isolde to come to Arendelle.

You may have already seen Arendelle's sailors lower packages into Corona's rowboats instead of physically docking their ships because of the North's propaganda. You and I both know we can get this under control together. I asked the Storting to allow a ship to come get you last October, but they refused because you were ill. Today, one will be coming to bring you and your daughter to Arendelle — to Anna. After that, we'll think of something — anything; I just don't want you and your daughter to stay in the environment you're in.

I have a feeling you'll fight me on this, but I hope you understand that Corona needs its king to stay alive in order for him to save it. Being trapped with it won't help. And please stop; you don't owe me or Baldor a "passel of apologies." You don't owe the Storting a used piece of toilet wipers and you know it, so cut it out right now. You have more of a right to scream at me for swearing by promises that I couldn't keep.

The entire continent owes you an apology. I owe you an apology; your country, your daughter, Rapunzel, Aunt Arianna, Uncle Frederic . . . the list is never-ending. In that same breath, I'm sick of saying "sorry" in situations where it doesn't do anything for the lives that were lost. To think most of this was helped by Arendelle's government policy, ally abandonment, international fear, overseas disgust, and scheming princes who want people to die is making me question what I'm doing in the center of it. I knew horrible things happened in the world, but I didn't know the world would just stand by and watch while they happened; I feel lost between knowing the harsh reality and believing in the happy ending I want to give everyone.

This travel ban takes you further away from me, but it hasn't taken me away from you. Although I have failed you as a relative, the day when our limitations disappear will be the day our lives change for the better. I promise you that your night terrors won't go on for much longer, Eugene. The real recovery will begin when you're here with us. All of us.

Please stay strong.

From Arendelle,
I of March, 1848
Faithfully yours,
Elsa

P.S. When I got sick, I had a hard time with my powers for nine months. I wasn't contagious or dangerous, but I was a danger to myself. Grandpabbie helped, yet things aren't completely back to normal even with his instructions. If it's okay with you, that's all I'd like to share on paper. I'd feel more comfortable talking about it once we're finally face-to-face.