FLAME & FROST

1 ειsα

"War?" Elsa replied, voice abrupt and sharp. She blinked hard, like it would wake her from a bad dream. "Are you absolutely sure?"

Reston, the captain of Arendelle's royal guard, nodded solemnly. "There's no question about it. The Duke of Weselton demands trade be reopened or he will declare war. Their King agrees. Weselton needs resources that only Arendelle can supply to them. They're confident enough to take over our kingdom to get the resources if necessary. The official decree is right here."

Reston placed a sealed document on the desk in front of Elsa. She reached for it, delicately rubbing her fingers across the textured parchment softly. The feeling of the rough, crinkling paper between her fingers brought back a distant, hazy memory, although she wasn't sure what of. It flashed for her mind too quickly.

"Ridiculous," she muttered, shaking her head. "Trade could be reopened if I could come to an agreement with the King of Weselton. I'd rather a compromise that than a war, but after what the Duke has done..." She sighed and ran a hand through her loosened, snowy blonde braid. She suppressed the memories that threatened to rise like bile in her throat. "But maybe a war could easier be won."

She stared at her own hands, imagining what her power might unleash in war. What chaos it mighty unleashed. Arendelle was no country equipped for battle, not nearly as much as Weselton was, but now they possessed something no other kingdom did. They had Elsa's abilities.

"No," she decided to herself aloud, verbally finalizing her decision, forcing herself to make the conclusion. "I'll not have war when there is no need for it. Leave me. I'll compose a letter to the King of Weselton." Elsa wove Reston out the door.

"Of course, Your Highness." He nodded, bowed, and exited promptly.

Once the doors shut after him, Elsa released another frustrated sigh and opened the document from Weselton, eyes scanning quickly over the letters. Maybe the opinion of her sister would help as well.

There was a furious knock on the door, sending Elsa leaping out of her chair. She waved her hand through the air, using an icy blast of wind to open the doors.

This time it was none other than Kristof at her doors, leaned over with his hands on his knees. He heaved for breath, and it became apparent he had run a long time to get there. When he looked up, the urgency in his eyes told Elsa enough.

Elsa stepped around from behind her desk and stood before Kristof. "What is it? What's happened?" A million thoughts of war, her beloved Ana, her kingdom raced through her head.

Kristof managed to regain his breath to speak to her. "You're gonna want to see for yourself."

Ω

Kristof led Elsa to a room in the castle and swung the doors open before her. Lying on a sofa moved in front of the fireplace, wrapped in a cloak, was an unconscious young girl. At the oldest, sixteen years old. She looked like she had trekked through miles of wilderness. Scratches and dirt and blood coated her perhaps beautiful face. Ana kneeled by her side, holding a drink to her lips.

Ana wove her sister and fiancé  over urgently. "She collapsed at the palace gates saying your name. She needs to tell you something important apparently."

"This happened just now?" Elsa asked as she took a knee beside Ana to watch the girl. The stranger's vacant stare burned into the ceiling and her wild scarlet curls tangled around her shoulders. The girl wasn't completely...aware. "What's happened to her?"

"Everyone's said she's gone mad," Kristof answered. "She looks like she walked a long way here. All on her own."

"She must have a reason to come all this way," Elsa said thoughtfully, studying the young girl's pretty face and empty brown eyes. "And it must be important for her to tell us if she came. But where from?"