Are you going to the mountain?

The children (and some adults, reduced to child-like awe) swarmed around the horses and carriages and asked it of everyone they could see. Diplomats still shaking off weariness from the voyage north rode their horses through the crowd, bemused and confused at the excitement that seemed to dance through the air above them as they trotted sedately towards the castle. The dukes and counts and earls in their carriages who were…less-used…to such discomforts held perfumed handkerchiefs to their noses to ward off the last remnants of seasickness, wondering why such a question would even be asked. Still they smiled and waved, more to each other than to the crowd.

Are you going to the mountain?

As if the mountain could be ignored. Even those from nearby countries with snow-covered peaks of their own paused a second to glance at the highest peak of Arendelle: Some midnight snowfall had covered the peak perfectly in white and blue, cold trails of deep sapphire travelling from the base to the peak as if roads had been carved in great whorls, or a master painter had covered it in swirling decoration. Those from the flatter and warmer climates gawked at how those blue paths (just frozen rocks, surely?) seemed to wind their way closer together, coming together at…

Are you going to the mountain?

At…

Are you going to the palace?

"Impossible," one whispered.

"Magnificent," said another.

Some hadn't believed, even after dozens of reports and sightings and evidence. Even after shipfuls of out-of-season icebergs delivered with the compliments of the Queen or even their own young unmarried sons returning from Arendelle with haggard looks on their faces and no bride on their arm. Even now, staring at a palace of ice in the mountains, some still scoffed and told themselves that any arrogant noble with time and manpower could carve an igloo, no matter how big or ornate. That there was no possible way on God's own earth that the stories could be true, no matter how often-repeated.

The Queen of Arendelle controls the winter.

Only one was unsurprised. As his carriage passed through the town – decked out in the finest of blue ribbons and bunting, flowers blooming as if the winter season simply hadn't happened to them – he barely gave the majestic palace a glance, paid no attention to the citizens who walked the streets in their finest clothes to show the visiting royalty of Europe what Arendelle was, did not even near the declarations of the town criers as they passed the bridge and approached the gates of the castle (the old castle, he supposed now). His mind was entirely occupied with himself, and so intensely that the other two occupants of the royal carriage didn't even dare look at him.

He knew some of his allies would be staring up at that palace and wondering, even this far into their plan, whether it had all been some colossal mistake. Wondering if there was enough time to take it all back, to laugh it all off as some mistake, as the usual push-and-pull of royal intrigue. Just business as usual, you can't blame us for protecting our interests. Water under bridge and so on and so on. All the hail the queen! He knew better though. His kingdom had never been large, never been secure, and his father and his father before him had bred ruthlessness into him. Never lose your footing, never count on a sure thing, never let your emotions cloud what's in front of your face, and never let what you already know get in the way of what you're trying to learn. So when the reports had come back and matched the rumours, he had sent out more spies where most had simply laughed. When their laughter turned to worry and fear, he already had enough knowledge to gather them to him and say I have a way to dispose of your fears.

"We've arrived, father."

As if he didn't know. He didn't respond to his son, one of the four he had brought (and another, he supposed, already waiting). Only stood, brushed down the front of his leather jacket (old and passed-down, like everything he owned, but when you're a king they become heirlooms) and stepped out. He had expected the cold, or a windy breeze. Instead…nothing. The air of Arendelle was neither cold nor humid like every other coastal town (like most of his own small islands), and the wind was…non-existent. He spared a quick glance at the harbour to see ships still arriving, the wind filling their sales. It was if around Arendelle Castle a barrier existed which simply…kept it out. He resisted an urge to shiver, and not from the weather. Never let them see you faltar.

"Your majesty."

He turned at the words to see the girl- no, the woman greet him, and if the weather had slowed him down then this one put him entirely off-kilter. His reports had prepared him – barely – for the place of Arendelle, but not this person.

He still remembered clearly the last time he had heard of her. He had been years younger and talking with some stupefying-dull son of some duke or other who had just returned from Arendelle. Full of drunken praise for the 'good' king Arendelle, his beautiful wife and his enchanting young princesses. The man obviously had his sights set on the elder as a prospect for one of his own dull sons (as had everyone, to be fair) and had barely mentioned the younger. Just another second-daughter whose fate was to look pretty, know little, and to be married off as soon as possible for money or trading rights.

He had been foolish. The image he had lazily kept in his mind of some pretty young thing was blown away at the sight before him. The woman was young, that much was the same, but nothing else matched. Where he had expected something soft and humble she instead stood straight and stared him down. The clothing that at a distance could have been mistaken for a dress was in fact an almost floor-length tunic in dark red, leather cuirass over it, and more leather on her limbs. A sword hung behind her, some ornate thing in white and blue in contrast to the dark reds and brown leathers that covered the rest of her. Only a small sliver of it emerged from the sheath but it almost looked like it was shining. Her gaze were what grabbed him though. They almost radiated light at him, as if some force beating at her heart extended through her body and escaped through her eyes. Looking into them they almost seemed to shift and change, from brown to almost blue in colour. A trick of the changing sun, surely. Other soldiers in Arendelle colours stood to either side of the castle gates as an honor guard, but she was the one who stood in the middle of the bridge

Little information about her had reached him and he cursed his gatherers and spies – and one in particular – for focussing too much on the obvious target and ignoring entirely this other, who at the minute seemed much closer, and far more dangerous.

The King of the Southern Isles looked into the diamond-hard eyes of Princess Anna. "Your majesty," he said, bowing. There was no turning back now.

We are committed.

She had caught herself doing it again. She tried to stop it, to occupy her hands with other things or even just clasping them together, but somehow she would become distracted and when next she noticed it would be happening again. Whenever she was away from Elsa her hands just seemed to go to the blade her sister had forged for her, running her fingers up and down the pommel and sheath whenever they were separated. Unable to be in contact with Elsa herself, they settled for the next best thing; the most personal and beautiful object she had created.

Somebody has to be there to greet our esteemed cousins, Elsa had said, and no amount of pouting or bedroom eyes had convinced her otherwise. Anna had given a token resistance to the idea of being separated but she knew it was necessary, even if she hated it. No matter who they were in each other's hearts, to the dignitaries arriving for the coronation Anna was merely the princess, and Elsa was oh so very much the Queen.

Not that they made that judgement hard to spot. The reactions to being told that Elsa was not present – was actually extremely busy preparing for her own coronation – ranged from polite exasperation and resignation from the older dukes to outright sighs and disappointment from the younger and more arrogant princes. All of them made it perfectly clear that they viewed dealing with her as something of an afterthought, that they were very much here to see one member of the royal family of Arendelle, and that the other was an afterthought. Even the princes who normally would have been bowing and scraping for a chance at her hand were instead looking past her. She might have been insulted, if she had cared.

The carriage containing the King of the Southern Isles and his escort rolled into the castle, and Anna sighed. "Was he the last?" The guard-captain glanced down at the (very long) roll of parchment in his hands and began to rattle off more names. The King had brought an entourage and friends apparently, four boats blocking up her harbour, like the man had brought one for himself and another each for his sons.

Nope. Anna spun on one heel and headed back into the castle – her castle. Maybe she had to play the part of welcome doormat for kings, queens, and dukes but she wasn't going to do it for their butlers and maids as well. She felt infuriated, pent-up. Days spent preparing for the coronation had left her without time to practice or train, cooped up in the castle and town. It felt…stifling. Give her the wind and snow in her hair as she rode through the country doing actual important work.

The militia are still out there doing it for you, Kristoff had said, and it only infuriated her more that he was right.

The noise and the trouble from the cultists had slowed almost to a trickle now but somehow that didn't make Anna feel better at all. Some had even taken their offer and come forward on their knees, and even though the hard core around Anna's heart strained at doing so they were allowed to leave Arendelle (naturally escorted every step of the way to the border, and told by a very loyal and very large member of the militia never to return). A lack of burning villages should have made her feel better but all she could think about was how all storms had a calm at the centre.

Everything will be simpler by tomorrow.

"Everything will be simpler by tomorrow."

"You can't know that."

Elsa traced a thumb across Anna's hand, across a thin white line, one of dozens. Anna did the same with her other hand, and wondered at the comparison between them. Anna's body, strong and firm and steady, criss-crossed with a dozen lines from a dozen fights. Elsa's, smooth and unmarked, all of the marks of her effort wiped away when the ice she formed was no longer needed, and removed.

Jealous? Elsa had asked the first time Anna had told her, as they had run hands up and down each other's bodies.

Of what? Anna had teased back, I could break you like a twig.

Sometimes late at night she had thought about that, feeling Elsa's smaller frame breathe against her own. In the daytime, covered in layers of clothes, it was impossible to see a change. But stripped bare against each other at night Elsa loved the feel of Anna's rougher skin against her own, the feel of Anna's stronger arms wrapped around and supporting her as they made love, would let her fingertips wander across Anna's belly and feel the strength beneath her as she breathed. Anna just worried. Even though Elsa's magic could freeze a country and conjure wonders from the ground Anna still worried.

"This one thing will be stronger than any hundred speeches I could ever make," Elsa said, a hand lazily dragging the red hair from Anna's eyes, dragging her from her reverie. The white-haired queen shifted hands and moved them both until they were lying at each other, faces so close they were almost touching, and Anna could see Elsa's eyes almost shining, two faceted sapphires in the dark bedroom. When she spoke, cold air tickled against Anna's cheeks and lips and drove her wild. "When I put the crown on I'll really be their queen," Elsa said, and there was something deeper than certainty in her voice, as if she wasn't speaking from her lungs but from some far-off place, as if a mountain was contained within her. Elsa wrapped her arms around Anna's back until they were pressed belly-to-belly, and Anna could feel sweat trapped between them. They could spend hours like that, wrapped up in each other.

"Nobody will stand between us then."

Anna didn't know if the 'us' meant Elsa and herself, or Elsa and her country. "Your majesty."

"Thank you for coming esteemed guests, and we apologise for the…trouble."

Anna stood silently and let the steward talk. The new dress scratched across her skin but everyone from the head steward all the way down to Kristoff had been insistent. Let her make all the statements she wanted but the coronation had to be done a certain way, and if the coronation was to be seen as legitimate the younger sister of the queen most definitely did not give audiences to the assembled cream of Europe with a sword hanging from her side and armour hanging from her body.

He didn't say I couldn't keep it near me though, Anna thought, glancing to the poor servant boy that carrying her 'necessities'.

"The queen regrets that she was not able to greet you but has been exceedingly busy with the preparations…"

Anna barely listened as the man droned on, pleasantries that would normally be used to stall while a drunken prince was roused or a nervous princess was found and calmed down. This time however they were used very seriously, and the implication of the man's words was clear:

The queen was too busy to greet you because she is shaping the mountain as she sees fit.

Anna watched the nobles, trying to look both bored and harmless. Most simply accepted the man's words, the splendour (and implication) of the ice-palace on the mountain already forgotten. A few rubbed their hands together or some other clearly-nervous tic. It was clear none of them really understood what they were about to be witness to. Even the King of the Southern Isles, who for some reason Anna felt as Han's father should have been slightly more eager to ask questions of his son's whereabouts, was instead looking around the castle. At the doors, the stairs. Everything but at Anna herself it seemed.

She rolled her shoulders to try and un-tighten them. She couldn't wait until all of this was over. As if any of the people looking around at her cared for Arendelle, or its people, or anything besides the ice and timber it provided. She wished they would all just go back down to their sunny climates and take their trouble with them, and leave them in peace. She wondered if any of them were the ones responsible for their…troubles. It wouldn't cost much for any of them to have hired a few roving preachers and set them loose on the path north with some money and clothes. But none of them looked nervous at being so close to the royalty they wanted killed, they all looked too bored to be guilty.

She saw a hand wave at from the doorway, and the ice shining on the mountain glinted down at her. Ah, finally. She stepped forward to cough and get their attention, and the attendant bowed and walked back, melting back into the shadows. After Anna and the nobility left the castle he and the rest of the servants would get to work preparing for the second half of the coronation: Feeding a lot of very expensive food to some very fat and tired royals.

Well, let's get this over with.

"Your majesties," Anna said, gesturing with some open hand towards the castle doors that the royals had entered in. One old duke went bug-eyed and twisted his mustache around his finger in ridiculous surprise, a royal consort gasped and clapped. As if by magic (actually by just being out of sight around a corner as they entered, and relying on the boredom of the nobles to simply not notice what they didn't care about) militia and soldiers lined both sides of the bridge, dressed in white and royal blue, polished halberds pointed to the heavens. Also, out of sight beneath their doublets but present on them all the same, lay the small runestones of iron.

"Your majesties," Anna said with a smile and genuine pleasure at their surprise, "let's begin."

To scramble for their coaches would have been undignified, nevertheless that was the impression they gave. Like children at a carnival informed that the entertainment and chocolates had just arrived. Well, all but one.

"Yes," replied the King of the Southern Isles. "Let's."

A QUICK NOTE ABOUT TAGS:

After reading some reviews and getting some PMs I've thought a little and changed the tag away from 'tragedy' to 'drama'. The 'tragedy' I was thinking of when I chose that tag was a much more subtle kind of tragedy than actual explicit character death but I see that people were worried or felt I had misled them.

I'm back and finishing this because it felt unfair to leave it undone so close to the ending and I have a span of free time. As for Queens we'll see, as that story is very much still at the beginning and a much more complex story than this.

Sorry for the wait, enjoy the final sprint.

Cobray