Nothing but darkness and dust lined the walls of the wooden cabin where the king and his daughter sat, heads heavy and eyes trained on the floor as the ship rocked forward and back again. The only light came from the flame of a single candle by the king's bedside, bathing half of his bearded face in soft orange light.

"Are you really going through with this, Sophie?" he asked, breaking a long, loud silence.

Sophie looked up at him over the spectacles that clung to the end of her slender nose. "I don't really have a choice, Father. You know that."

The ship lurched forward again, threatening to spill King Harold from the bed. He put a steadying hand down next to him and fought the urge to vomit. "Urgh… how did it ever come to this?" he asked, more to himself than to his daughter. Sophie stood, pacing, and answered anyway.

"A better question for my brother, your son. If we ever see him again, you can ask him, but don't get your hopes up. After all that's happened, after the Snow Queen came into our lives, the odds of us ever having a happy family reunion are slim to none…"

Harold's face sunk at the mention of his son, and he fell quiet. Sophie stopped her pacing and turned towards him. "I'm sorry, Father, I shouldn't… look, I know that –" she started to say but was cut off when a soldier clad in crimson armor appeared at the doorway.

"Er, Princess Sophie?" he said, a bit uneasy. "Arendelle is within sight, your highness. Your presence has been requested on deck."

Sophie took one last quick glance at the king, who gave her a fatherly nod and sunk back into his bed, succumbing to his sickness and his exhaustion. She gave him a solemn kiss on the cheek and exited.

The princess climbed the stairs of the massive ship into the bitter coldness. The red and black cloak embroidered with the flame sigil of Astor that clung to her shoulders did little to block the raging northern wind that cut through her body and made her very bones shiver. This is the North, just like I remember, Sophie thought, pulling the cloak a little tighter and making her way to the bow of the ship.

Soldiers stood aside one by one as they noticed their princess' presence. She put a hand on the hilt of the sword at her hip as she squinted into the distance. Sure enough, the white fjord of the northern mountains was in view, and the highest tower of the castle of Arendelle was just peaking up over an icy cliff on the horizon.

"Prepare yourselves!" Sophie called out to the men within earshot. "Today is a good day for a battle!"

The men around her jumped to action with a shout somewhere between fear and excitement. Sophie put a foot up on the bow and gazed out at the seemingly endless fleet of ships around her. Two hundred battleships strong crashed through the water in a tight formation, their masts all proudly flying the flag of Astor, the bright red flame making the very sea look ablaze. Only a few short hours before this finally begins. I just hope that it ends as quickly.

A hand appeared suddenly on Sophie's shoulder and she almost jumped. She felt an unnatural heat on her back and a pit in her stomach, and she knew who was standing behind her. "Are you prepared?" he asked, his voice deep and hollow. It was a command more than a question, but Sophie gave a confident nod. "I know you will do me well, Black Swan. Bring me the Ice Witch and the head of that traitor brother of yours and I promise your happiness now and forever. Of course, there are other ways this battle could go, and I don't think you'd like those nearly as well." Then his presence was gone, and Sophie exhaled, realizing she had been holding her breath.

She inhaled the cold winter air through her nose, savoring the smell of the sea not yet tainted by blood. "I hope you're ready, Snow Queen," she said aloud, the wind swallowing her words.

A sudden gust came from the direction of Arendelle, whipping Sophie's cloak across her face and chilling her through and through.

The princess fixed her glasses and smirked. "My, my. That's a good answer."