Frederick looked out across the still water from the top deck of his ship. There was no breeze, but they had an engine, so that no longer mattered. They were far from land, but he knew the direction of each of the nearest shores, and now he was looking north towards Ahtohallan. They never traveled anywhere near there–he knew better than that–but some days he felt like he could see some sign on the horizon.

He felt a breeze, but it wasn't enough to move the sails, and it was coming from the direction of Ahtohallan. A letter fell into his hands.

"Commander?" Frederick called out.

"Yes, Captain?" a man replied from the deck below.

"I'm heading to my quarters, please take over for me up here."

"Yes, Sir!" the man replied.

Frederick opened his cabin door. Pearson was inside arranging some things at the desk, as usual.

"Sir, is everything all right?" the man asked.

"I'm fine, but I may need to write a letter in a moment," Frederick replied, closing the door behind him. Pearson nodded, finishing up what he was doing.

Frederick opened the letter.

November 2nd, 1875

Dear Frederick,

Please return to Arendelle as soon as safely possible. I will explain when I return.

Elsa

This was an unusual note from his aunt, and she rarely wrote to him this way. He needed to decide if he should provide his men with an excuse for their return, or simply make the command. Perhaps it would be best to simply tell them they were returning. There would be speculation no matter what, so it would be better if it were the usual rumors. His younger sisters were more than happy to fill him in on those.

His second-in-command caught his eye as soon as he re-emerged from his cabin and walked over towards Frederick.

"Captain?" the commander asked.

"Have the engines fired up, we're going to be returning to Arendelle as soon as possible."

"Yes, Sir!" the man replied.

The engines were soon roaring below deck, and the smoke emerged from the smokestacks. They would soon be back in Arendelle. He ducked back into his cabin, and the paper and ink were ready for him, as Pearson silently found himself something else to do in the cabin.

"Would you like me to send that when we reach the next port?" Pearson asked as Frederick folded up his note.

"No, I will be sending it myself," Frederick replied.

"I see," Pearson nodded knowingly.

Frederick went outside. The same breeze began blowing at him from the north.

"Gale…" he said under his breath.


Inga had gotten changed very quickly, and the maid had done a very nice job with her hair, even if she wasn't as familiar as Oline. She hoped Oline was well.

Inga never particularly liked parties, but she was curious what one would be like if nobody knew who she was. Did people hold back from telling her things? Of course they would, wouldn't they? Or they would speak to her in hopes of getting some favor.

She walked down to the vestibule. The carriage was waiting outside, though Lars did not seem to be downstairs yet. It was a clear day, so she walked out to the carriage where John was finishing setting up.

"You got ready fast," John remarked.

"The maid is good at what she does," Inga replied.

"Did she make conversation with you?" John asked. "Adele is the one they assigned to you, isn't it?"

"I… I don't know," Inga admitted. "I didn't think to ask her name, and we really didn't talk very much."

"Really? That seems odd," John said. "She's always trying to practice her English with me."

"Is that so?" Inga asked, still not sure what to make of John's questions. "By the way, Lars mentioned that you've been to the Enchanted Forest. How did you manage that?"

John raised an eyebrow. "You want to know how they let a foreigner in?"

"That's not quite how I would have phrased it. I'm less surprised than if you'd managed to visit the trolls."

John laughed.

"Your brothers offered to take me to see the trolls, but the timing never worked out."

"Was Frederick involved?"

"No, he was away."

"Did Anton and Peder take you to the Enchanted Forest, then? I didn't hear about that, but if you were their guest I could understand."

"No," John said, looking around. "It was Renata."

"How did she get there?" Inga asked.

"You're surprised?" John replied. "You told us how easily she agreed to cover up what is, for all she knows, the princess running off with a married man who isn't her husband, and you're surprised that she would regularly visit the autonomous zone without permission?"

"Regularly?" Inga asked, resisting the urge to explain that she hadn't told Renata anything.

"Not all of the Northuldra dislike strangers. Some of them want to trade without having to ask permission. At least the Oakens just want to trade with them. You have no idea-"

John went quiet as Lars came outside.

"Everyone ready?" Lars asked.

John nodded and hopped into the driver's seat, and Lars assisted Inga into the carriage.


Elsa watched as Anna entered the building, then followed Kristoff as he went to tie up the wagon. Kristoff looked over as she walked his way.

"Do you think there's any point in coming up here?" he asked. "I don't know if you've seen the papers, but it's the simplest explanation. I know it's not exactly what anyone wants to think about."

"But we know she's in the Southern Isles," Elsa said. "And when was the last time anyone heard from Henry?"

"I suppose you're right," Kristoff sighed. "But Renata seems to know what's going on, too."

Elsa looked back at the door, then lowered her voice. "Renata's involvement doesn't surprise me."

Kristoff looked surprised.

"I haven't said anything, but she's been crossing into the Enchanted Forest for years. It's technically illegal, but I know she's not hurting anyone."

"Who else knows about this?" Kristoff asked.

"Mostly the Northuldra who trade with her."

"I haven't seen Oaken selling anything," Kristoff said.

"No, I suspect they don't do anything quite that obvious," Elsa replied. "Let's not worry about that, though. How long should we give Anna before one of us checks in on her?"


Oline sat on the bed. She had started crying soon after Anna had started questioning her, so Anna simply sat silently for several minutes that seemed like an eternity.

"Like I said, I don't want to get you in trouble, Oline," Anna insisted. "But what did Inga tell you?"

"When I had unpacked all of her bags here, she then told me that she was heading on to Bergen with Captain Olsen, but that I should enjoy myself here."

"Enjoy yourself?" Anna asked.

"They have been quite nice," Oline admitted. "The food is lovely, and the sauna really is relaxing."

Anna forgot herself and the present circumstances for a moment and gave a bit of a smile. "So, what was Renata told?"

"I'm not sure exactly," Oline confessed. "I was so busy bringing in Inga's bags, and I heard them whispering a few times as I passed through the front hall, but… I don't know."

Anna thought for a moment. Obviously, Oline had told her everything she could about where Inga had gone. They would need to find Captain Olsen, at the very least, and as far as anyone knew, he was in Bergen visiting some family.

"Oline, did you unpack any of Inga's belongings?" Anna asked.

"I hung her clothes so they wouldn't get wrinkled, but otherwise, everything is still packed." Oline frowned. "She doesn't even have a hairbrush with her."


Inga sat facing Lars in the carriage, who looked silent and contemplative.

"So, if I am your sister Ingeborg this evening, who are you?"

"I am a diplomat from Corona, visiting the Southern Isles."

"Nobody suspects?"

"I have the papers I need for whatever purpose I need," Lars told her, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

"I won't ask," she said.

The carriage pulled up to the Embassy of the Duchy of Bielsko. It was a fine mansion, oddly large for such a small land. Lars helped Inga out of the carriage, and John drove on around to the stables. Inga was fairly certain that he would be eavesdropping on any servants or other people hanging around the back.

"Mr. Nilsen!" called out a young man from across the room. "It's been years!"

"Mr. Abele!" Lars said, shaking the man's hand vigorously. "How have you been?"

"Quite well! There's… well, there's a lot to catch up on. I know you went to the Diplomatic Academy, of course. And who is this?"

"Oh, yes, how rude of me… this is.." Lars seemed to be doing a mental calculation of how much this old friend would question. "This is my sister Ingeborg."

"I don't remember you having a sister," he winked.

"Half-sister," Inga interjected.

"Yes,' Lars quickly agreed.

"Well, it's a pleasure," Mr. Abele said, bowing. "I lived in Corona for several years as a child, and Lars and I went to school together."

"And what brings you here?" Inga asked, trying to piece together how much this man might know about Lars.

"I'm a visiting professor at the royal university this year. Normally I teach at Redmond University in Canada, but my wife wished for our children to have at least some education here. Her father is chancellor at the royal university, so he helped us out."

"She is from here originally?" Inga asked.

"Her mother's side comes from Wesselton," Mr. Abele explained. "But, oh, there she is, perhaps you would like someone to show you around the party?"

He waved over a woman wearing a dress with large puffed sleeves, who walked over smiling.

"This is my wife, Agnes," he said, gesturing as the woman stepped up next to him.

Inga made a small curtsey as Lars nodded in a small bow.

"My dear," he said, "this is my friend Lars, a school-fellow from my days in Corona."

"Charmed," the woman said, holding out her hand, which Lars took politely.

"And this is his sister, Ingeborg."

"Lovely to make your acquaintance," Agnes said. "Are you also from Corona?"

"I've been there," Inga said. "But Lars and I had very different lives growing up.

It was true enough. Whether she could handle further questions remembering what the truth needed to be for this party was another matter.

"We will leave these two to reminisce, if you like," Agnes said, taking Inga's arm.

"Very well," Inga said, quickly glancing at Lars, who nodded.

"That is an interesting dress," Inga commented, trying to think of a safer conversation topic than her personal background to start out.

"It is all the rage these days in Canada," she said. "It is quite different from most recent fashion around here, I know. I suppose you're more familiar with the styles of Corona, then?"

"A little bit," Inga hemmed. "How much do you know about Corona?"

"I often find the papers a few weeks after they've been published. They're quite entertaining, don't you think?" Agnes asked this with what seemed to be a genuine smile, not indicative of prurient interest.

"Entertaining?" Inga said with a nervous giggle, trying not to sound upset. "I thought they were supposed to be informative."

"Perhaps they are, I don't know," Agnes replied. "I certainly have heard wildly differing stories around here."

Inga took a quick breath, trying to distance herself from her feelings on the matter. "I only arrived this week, and you have me curious what sorts of things they say about Corona."

"Well, not just Corona, of course. The papers certainly like to go on about the prince's wife. But I suppose there's nothing to those. Now, her mother, you certainly hear some whispers about the Queen of Arendelle in these parts, you know. Everyone was sure after that unpleasantness a few years ago there would have been war, but I suppose Corona didn't want that, did they?"

Inga swallowed hard. She had, perhaps, been less involved in official politics than she should have been, but surely she would have heard of such a thing. "Why would there have been a war?"

"Oh, I suppose it really was a gunpowder accident, like they say," Agnes shrugged. "But I do wonder, sometimes. You know the princess hasn't returned to Corona since then?"

"It's not-" Inga stopped herself, remembering that nobody here would think they were talking about someone in the room. It had been several years since she had last been in Corona. "I'm sure she has her reasons."

The woman paused, looking thoughtful. "Well, the succession change, I suppose."

"But that happened before the-" Inga stopped herself. She needed to remember herself. Or remember that she wasn't supposed to be herself.

"We can just call it the incident," Agnes suggested. "I realize it might be a bit of a touchy subject in Corona."

Inga merely nodded.

"As far as both Arendelle and Corona, my husband says, at least they've got enough heirs now. It's not good to have instability like everyone knows is going on here, don't you think, Ingeborg?"

"What have you heard about that?" Inga asked, hoping it at least would stop her from having to hear retellings of newspaper gossip about herself.

"Oh, goodness, well, everyone knows that they don't have any heirs, of course, beyond the thirteen sons of the king, and they're not getting any younger." Agnes glanced around, and apparently satisfied that there was nobody who would be offended, continued, "but my maid has a friend working at the palace who says they're trying to find all the illegitimate sons. There are more than a few, as you might imagine."

"Yes, I can certainly imagine that." Inga chuckled nervously.

Agnes leaned in, lowering her voice. "She's heard some talk, even, that it might be why that- that incident happened… you know, the one that was supposed to be an accident?"

"The- the ship?" Inga could barely get herself to say that.

"Yes! Can you believe it? Many years ago, during that rather infamous coronation, I think one of the princes left a lady there a… a souvenir, shall we say?"

Inga allowed herself to look shocked, since it was rather prurient gossip and no one would question her reaction, but there were so many things about what she had heard just during the last minute that the nature of that gossip hardly mattered.

"You seem to be very interested in these events," was all that Inga could think to say.

The woman sighed. "I suppose I should take a more appropriate interest. If you would rather speak about fashions or music or art? I've learned not to talk about my children, since that's considered gauche at an event like this."

"That's not what I meant," Inga protested. She wished they could simply talk about their children, but of course, that was not possible right now. "I simply meant to say, there are things you've said that I haven't heard elsewhere."

"Oh, of course. Like I said, my maid has friends… also, my father hears things in his position, as you might imagine."

Just then, another woman came over. Agnes noticed, and her face turned to a smile.

"Mrs. Abele," the woman exclaimed. She looked vaguely familiar, but Inga couldn't quite place her.

"Your Highness," Agnes smiled while giving a deep curtsey. "May I introduce you to Miss… Ingeborg…" Agnes looked quickly over at Inga.

"You may simply call me Miss Ingeborg," she replied. "My surname isn't important."

"Well, this is Her Royal Highness, Princess Beatrice of Maldonia."

"Oh, are you the wife of the crown prince?" Inga asked, remembering to curtsey deeply, while in her mind frantically trying to remember if they had ever met as equals.

"Charmed, Miss Ingeborg," she replied. "You look so familiar, surely we have met before?"

"Have you met Mr. Nilsen?" Agnes suggested, gesturing over at Lars.

She looked over. "Oh, yes! I met him at a party during our American tour."

Lars and Mr. Abele were waved over, and Inga was able to stand silently on the sidelines of the conversation for a few minutes.


Sofia and Marie sat in Isabel's parlor. Arianna had insisted on coming along to see Hallie, and thankfully the two girls had taken advantage of the break in the weather to play outside.

"How is everything, Isabel?" Sofia asked, trying not to sound too much like she was prying, even though she was.

"It's going well. Siggy is seeing lots of old friends in Bergen, and he's been writing every day, so it hasn't been too bad, and Meibel has been keeping me company, of course."

Sofia glanced over at Marie, who looked away and paid attention to Isabel.

"It's so nice that he's been writing to you," Marie said.

"Inga hasn't written once since she left," Sofia added.

Marie glanced over, and Isabel gave a little smile.

"I see you've been reading those papers," Isabel said. "Siggy warned me that there might be some stories. He said he would tell me what is really going on as soon as he's back, but I'm going to trust him."

"I certainly didn't think anything of those stories," Marie replied.

"Well," said Sofia. "Where is Meibel today?"

"She's down at the harbor, I expect," Isabel said. "Didn't you hear? Frederick's ship is coming back early."

Sofia and Marie looked at each other. "We didn't hear anything about that," Sofia said.


Frederick glanced out his cabin window, and the pilot boat approached. While they had not been expected by the customs house, they were naturally given first priority at their home port, and the pilot boarded and guided them into the fjord.

Soon, they had pulled into the dock, and the dock workers did their jobs securing the ship. Over at the market, there was the usual bustle. Nothing seemed amiss, though his aunt's note had said nothing about trouble in Arendelle, and that would have been worth telling his crew. As it was, they would have to settle for speculation amongst themselves.

Pearson came out, handing him his walking stick.

"Thank you, Pearson," Frederick said. "You should take the day as shore leave. I suspect we won't be leaving for a day or two."

"I'll check in with you tomorrow morning."

"We'll be expecting you," Frederick smiled.

"Give my regards to Mrs. Bjorgman," Pearson replied as Frederick made his way to the gangway.

"You can still call her Meibel, you know," Frederick called back.


Lars was relieved to find that his school friend Mr. Abele had not kept close enough track of Arendelle or Corona politics to have thought to ask too many questions about his position. He seemed aware of events, so it was not a matter of ignorance, at least.

"That's fascinating that you've been living so close to us for the last decade!" Mr. Abele exclaimed. "You know, it's only a day or two in the summer to get to Redmond from Boston by boat."

"Indeed," said Lars. "Though, in my position, I only rarely leave the country. I frequently take the train to New York and Washington, though."

"Fascinating!" said Mr. Abele. "It's a pity your wife couldn't be here, still. I'm sure my dear Agnes would love to exchange notes. Oh! She's waving us over!"

Lars looked over, and saw Inga with Mrs. Abele, and a third woman, whom he realized had, in fact, met him before.

"Your Highness," he bowed as they came over.

"Mr. Nilsen," she said. "I never forget a face! We met at a party much like this one in Washington a few years back."

"Yes, Maldonia's new princess, of course I remember!" Lars replied. "Is your husband here?"

"He is speaking with the Glowerhaven ambassador," she said. "If this party were a week later, you would get to meet my brother-in-law, Tarkan."

Lars glanced over at Inga, who seemed distracted, showing no reaction to the name of a person she despised.

Some more discussion followed, and the next time he looked over, Inga had disappeared.

"Has my sister gone to find the hors d'oeuvres?" Lars asked with a small laugh to make it sound like he considered it a joke.

"Oh! Have they started serving them?" Mrs. Abele asked. "She didn't say she was going! Oh, I admit I'm feeling a bit hungry now."

"I'll see if I can find her, then, while you get some food for yourselves," Lars bowed. "Mr. Abele, in case I don't catch you again this evening, it was a pleasure seeing you again!"


Meibel stood in the market shelter watching Frederick's ship pull in. The harvest festival had been the week before, and it was fairly quiet now. The gangway was lowered down, and as soon as everything was secure, Frederick made his way down, calling back to Pearson about something. She hurried to his side and they began walking arm in arm.

"I have to say the letter yesterday came as a surprise," she told him. "I'd like to think you're home early because you missed me."

"I do miss you," he said. "But you know you're allowed to travel with me. I wish you would."

"Your mother wouldn't like it, you know that."

Frederick rolled his eyes. "Of course."

"You're feeling well, I hope?" she asked. Frederick made a point of tucking the can under his arm as soon as she spoke.

"Of course, I've been fine, I promise you. And Pearson is making sure of that."

He seemed to be telling the truth, and was walking fine, so she smiled and they walked on. Frederick began whistling an unfamiliar tune.

"What's that?" she asked.

"What?"

"You're humming something," she said.

"Oh, it's from an operetta I saw while we were docked in London," he explained. "I quite enjoyed it. See, that's why you should come with me. You should see it, too."

"What's it about?"

"A breach of promise trial," he laughed. "You wouldn't think such a thing would be funny, would you?"

"I wouldn't," she frowned. "But if you want me to see it, I will. Still, I don't think inviting me to an operetta is the reason you're here."

Frederick nodded.

"So why are you home early?" she asked.

"Let's wait until we get home. Did you tell anyone?"

Meibel sighed. "I told Isabel, so I suppose everyone else might know soon."


Henry was lying half awake on the uncomfortable cot that served as his bed for the past few weeks. He heard some keys in his door, and sat up.

"Ah, good morning, I thought I would find you here." It was the same man he had talked to recently. "Have you thought about things some more?"

"What is there to think about?" Henry asked. Of course, he knew that this man had offered him the possibility of a relaxing life away from political obligations, where he could simply spend his days painting. Except it was not clear where his family would be in all this. Inga and the children could not simply forget the world even if, somehow, he managed to get away.

"It's fascinating, isn't it, how sometimes the strongest prison is the people around us?" the man mused. "But, come, no need to make a decision. Let's take a walk."

Henry stood up and followed the man. At least it was some variety.

"After you," the man said, opening a door to a small, neglected courtyard, filled with half-decayed leaves. It was damp and clearly got no sun, but it was outdoors. Henry stepped out and took a deep breath.

"This courtyard hasn't been maintained for years," the man told him. "I hope you're not too chilled?"

"I'll be fine," Henry insisted. There was no fireplace in the room he'd been occupying, so the difference in temperature stepping outside was hardly noticeable.

"Some people enjoy colder weather," the man mused. "Perhaps this describes you, then?"

"I'm happy with any weather, really," Henry replied, slowly walking along the edge of the courtyard.

"That is good to hear. Perhaps we can discuss other conditions you might find acceptable, as well."

Henry heaved a sigh. He knew that this man's attention wasn't disinterested, but he had hoped that he might at least allow a few more pleasantries.

"I would like to return to my family."

"See, this is where there is a bit of a problem." The man looked over at his shoulder at the door they had just come through.

"I don't understand the problem. What is there to negotiate, even?"

The man set his hand on Henry's shoulder, and Henry bristled at the sudden familiarity.

"There had not been much discussion among various parties before you arrived here," he whispered. "And unfortunately for you, we haven't told anyone else of your location."

"Has anyone been told where I am?" Henry asked.

"Our friends in the press have introduced some gossip about your whereabouts. It makes perfect sense that you would be taking some quiet time away for… your own needs."

Henry sighed. "I've read those rumors before."

"Everyone knows how your type is, particularly when they're trapped in a marriage at such a young age. Don't worry, most of them are very understanding and even forgiving."

"I wasn't trapped-" Henry realized the futility of trying to argue that point. "Never mind, how can I get out of here and back home?"


Meibel shut the door as they came inside. Frederick immediately tossed his satchel onto the bench near the door.

"I gave everyone the day off, so nobody's here," she said as she took Frederick's coat to hang up. "Now are you going to tell me the reason you're back early?"

Frederick leaned on the cane, trying to sort his thoughts. "Has Aunt Elsa come to visit?" he asked.

"She was here briefly," Meibel said. "But she left for Bergen with your parents yesterday."

"She did?" Frederick asked. "Do you know when they'll be back?"

"I have no idea," Meibel said. "They really didn't tell anyone. Perhaps you ought to ask Papa."

"I'm not sure if I should say anything to Mattias," Frederick said. "But I really don't know anything, anyway. Just that I got a note from Elsa while we were far out to sea. That's when I sent the note back to you. She really didn't tell me anything."

"I see," Meibel said. "Perhaps you should send her another note, then?"

"That's a good idea," Frederick admitted, sitting at the writing desk. The note was simple, merely letting Elsa know that he had arrived in Arendelle. He folded it up and walked to the front door, whispering for Gale.

Once the wind had vanished along with the note, Meibel touched his arm.

"If it were springtime I would ask you to help with some hanging flower baskets," she said, looking at the eves of the house. "As it is, let's go inside where it's warm."

"Excellent idea," Frederick said, noticing his satchel where he had tossed it a few minutes before. "I almost forgot, I did buy the sheet music for that operetta." He pulled it out, and set the music on the piano.

"Are you going to play it for me?" Meibel asked, sounding more cheerful than she had all morning.

"If you wouldn't mind playing, I could sing it for you. There are only a few women's parts, anyway. And the tenor plays guitar," he explained, grabbing the mandolin from a shelf above the piano.

Meibel sat down. "If you insist," she said, and began playing the introduction as Frederick sat in the chair next to her.


Inga didn't remember at which point during the party she had excused herself for some fresh air, but she eventually did. She stared blankly out at the city, afraid even standing alone here to let any bit of emotion crack through. Agnes had meant no harm, she knew this, and was simply making conversation.

She heard the door behind her opening, and was not surprised to see Lars walking over.

"Have you had enough of the party?" he asked.

"I won't make you leave early, if that's what you're asking," she replied.

"It's getting cold out here, you should probably head back in," he told her.

She thought for a moment. It was cold, but she hadn't noticed.

"Can I ask you a question first?"

"Of course," he said.

"Did the Southern Isles have something to do with…" she couldn't finish it. She looked over at him.

"With…?" he asked, then looking at her, nodded. "From what John has told me, I think the answer is yes."