AU: Okay, I'm SO sorry, guys. College life is GAH. I had so many things in my hands and I wasn't able to keep my Friday duties. Anyway, here's CHAP 3. It's, well, fragmented. Just tell me what you think about it.

PS:

I made a new map; turned out the old one had a defense too good for the attackers. SO YEAH, it's in my profile; just check it out.

REPLIES SECTION! :D (distant cheering)

Guest - (about Jack's name) Hi! I actually considered that too. :)) But just to be completely honest, I kind of felt like it was more pop than royal (with MJ and all :))))) Anyway. I'm not saying MJ's not kingly. I mean, he's the freaking King of Pop! I'm just saying I didn't (and I still don't) feel like Jackson's a princely name for Jack. S'all. :D

(about the proper way of addressing a Queen) Dude! I swear to god I didn't know that. :)) Anyway, I edited it already. I'm just really glad you pointed that out or else I'll be writing the entire fic with that glaring error lol. Thanks again, btw!

COINCIDENCE? I THINK NOT.

A series of red sparks illuminated the dark dank room, followed by groans of utter frustration.

"It's no use! Argh!" The female voice was cold and smooth, as if the words came from silken vocal chords. More sparks of differing red hues lit the room as they zoomed to collide with one of the room's walls, hitting a window and shattering the glass into a million shards and splinters.

The winter air angrily entered the room; the dryness and the cold coupling with the musty feel.

"Have any luck, Poppet?" Asked a distant voice as footsteps slowly sounded closer. "Or are you still useless?" A smirk could be heard through the arrogant voice.

More sparks, but this time growls accompanied them. "I'll gladly turn you into a toad if not for this dratted winter!"

"A-ah, that's not what you say to the king's son," answered the voice, dripping with dark humor, cold as the winter wind that breezed inside the room.

The sound of crackling fire was audible and the footsteps halted. There stood a man with a torch in his hand, the light of the flames licking the shadows away from his lean face. He was a medley—tremendously handsome, yet dark and mysterious. Green eyes, slick hair, a face without any freckles, fit and fair-unmistakably of royal descent.

The fire illuminated the dark room, which turned out to be a small poorly-lit cottage that had walls of stone and cobwebs as adornments. Blackening taxidermy heads lined the stone walls, a collection of the craniums of the woodland realm. Flasks of differing sizes were all over the place, containing bubbling concoctions ranging from poisonous green to blood red. Others contained butterflies, with abnormal prints on their wings—eyes that blinked and wept with black ink. Blue jays floated gray and lifeless inside a cauldron of foul liquid. Over on a slightly opened cabinet were jars of floating little figures, ghastly pale with blue veins scattering like spider webs on their skin. They could already have been big enough to play on the fields of the village had they not been bottled in a dark cabinet instead.

A young woman was sitting in the middle of the cottage, inside a circle of white ash, with 6 bottles of blue-jointed tarantulas carefully placed on the line of ash. She had a mane of unruly hair as black as soot, and canines sharper than the standard. She wore grey rags and worn-out boots, and both her arms were inked with uncanny figures and drawings. The lace on her bodice's first two pairs of lace holes was untied and loose. One cuff hung loosely on her shoulder, exposing a fair and flawless patch of pale untatted skin. She was a picture of mystery—like a drawing of black ink on pale white paper that came to life, everything about her was monochromatic.

"Father found a way to lift this winter," was all she needed to hear. Her dark eyes darted to the sharply-dressed man in front of her as a menacing smile crossed her lips. "Then enlighten me, your highness. We have a lot of leagues yet to conquer in so little time."With a crack of her knuckles, the tarantula jars shook.

The man smirked darkly, his crimson bangs falling on his forehead. "Not to rush, Poppet. We've got a hold of time on the throat," he chuckled. "A rather tight one, actually." Then there was that sadist smirk on those smooth lips once again.

Elsa woke up with a gasp, forehead, palms and neck glittering with beads of still cold sweat. She laid flat on her plush four-poster, breathing heavy in long heaves, hands scrunching up the silken sheets of her mattress. The moon shone its eerie glow through the cracks in between the thick wine velvet drapes, drawing slants of white light all over the Queen's quarters. With a jerk, she rose from the bed, grabbed the gas lamp, and headed outside.

She was surprised to see Anna exit her room the same time she did from hers, strawberry blonde tendrils facing a confusing set of directions. Her own lamp was also tightly clutched in her hands.

"Why are you up at this hour?" Elsa started walking, as Anna followed close. The latter's bedroom slippers scraping noisily against the wooden flooring of the wide corridor.

"I had a really disturbing dream," the ginger answered, a sweat bead running down her nose. "Thought of going outside to clear my head of it."

Elsa's pace slowed as she listened to her sister sleepily drawl in sentence fragments. "Had one too." Her voice was flat, as if she was trying to calm her nerves from the picture of the blackening fetuses inside jars. "So what was it about?"

Both were now standing on the roofed bridge that connected the bedchambers to the main hall—a bridge of round-edged cobblestones beautifully wrapped almost entirely in creeping ivy. Anna slowed her pace to glance at the moon—pale and radiant—a perfect circle in the starry night. She felt the cold creep onto her nape as she shivered, still staring at the ball of heavenly white stone.

"At first I saw red flickering lights against a black background," she started. "Then there was this girl talking in the dark."

Elsa's shoulders steeled, her ears momentarily shutting out her sister's detailed narration. "—but the most horrid part, was that there were babies."

"—they were in jars, and-"

"I think we both just woke up from the same dream."

Biting her lower lip in deep thought, the Queen stared on the lush gardens below the bridge. "Do you remember the book mom and dad always kept from you? The one on dad's desk."

Anna furrowed her brows, going a couple of years back. "You mean the maroon leatherback?"

"Yes."

WHEN IN DOUBT, GO TO THE LIBRARY

The library was well-lit, with torches and lamps, and table candles. It was, after all, one of the most used rooms of the castle, next to the private bedchambers, the loos, the long table hall, and the throne room. The royal family had been a line of bibliophiles since King Marius, second son to King Ivar IV, founder of the kingdom of Arendelle. The young monarch used to scale the high castle walls in his youth, sneak past all three kingdom wall levels, just to smuggle a few tomes from his friends from the village. It was in honor of him, and his sheer disobedience and love for books, that the palace library was built. Since Arendelle back then, was but a budding kingdom, it didn't have the ability to fill the royal library with tomes of different genres and purposes. Instead, the king opted for trade. The books from the surrounding kingdoms together made a great library; what used to be an empty room then overflowed with tomes of different genres—from medical to horror, from thin to thick, and from paperback to leatherback.

That was the same humongous library Elsa and Anna found themselves searching for a book in.

"I think I found it!" Anna yelled, a couple of rows away from her sister.

Both royals hurriedly scanned the old leatherback, candle dripping wax on the golden candle holder. Thin fingers gracefully flipped through old paper—past pages about goblins, sea serpents, rock trolls (which Anna smiled fondly at), and witches. Elsa was amazed at the state of the ancient leatherback. She could still recall its look as a child and it seemed like it didn't even age a day. The paper, though yellowing and old, didn't have dog ears or rips. The leather cover was still shining, as if it had only been polished yesterday. As for the golden inscriptions on its front cover, and the spiraling designs like gypsy prints, they reflected the light of the fire as real gold would.

Still searching the tome, along with other books discussing mysteries and unnatural occurrences, the royal siblings found themselves holed up inside the library. The sun was already out, peeking through the horizon and the thicket of trees. The only reason why no servant has called them for breakfast was because the Queen informed Harold that they were not to be disturbed in the library. And so with that, four guards have been stationed outside the library, and walking on its corridor was strictly ordered to be done extra silently not to disturb the royals.

Anna brought another book down in exasperation. "Another useless one here."

While her sister busied herself with a growing pile of different tomes, Elsa's eyes drank every detail of the old maroon leatherback. She read every related page with determination to find the answer to their case, but after a long while, she also set it carefully down on the table.

With a sigh, she turned the pages back to 85 and 86. "I wasn't able to find anything about coincidental dreams here either."

Anna peeked through the book she was reading herself—Unusual Phenomena and the Creatures to Blame by Alixandre Drindle which covered dragons in impressive detail.

"Well, at least I found out that dragons hate hearing this Nandor Horn. Drives them crazy, it said so."

Elsa raised a brow at her sister, wordlessly saying Honestly, Anna. I thought we were here to research about the dream. "I did, however, learn that the rock trolls are usually headed by a wise leader. According to this book," The Queen pointed on the specific paragraph underneath the ink sketch of a rock troll. "the leaders know much about bizarre happenings, especially those connected to nature. They are also known to be readers of the stars."

Anna smiled at the fond memory of the small creatures and their rock potato-shaped noses, but her smile faltered for a moment. "Pabbie's the leader of the tribe in our woods," she said, putting her smile back as she placed a marker on the dragon page and setting the book down separate from her read pile.

"Since we have none else to ask, I'm thinking we should ask them about this. But we'll have to push that for later, considering that, well, they're nocturnal."

SO MUCH LIKE MY KING

Jack was surprised to see the elderly Butler waiting beside the guests' room the moment he stepped out, rubbing sleep off his eyes. Erik had never been a morning person, and since there weren't really any urgent matters to discuss at 5 am in the morning, he decided not to disturb his brother's rather deep, and comfortable, sleep. The older prince was a heap of snoring comforter on the farthest bed from the door. Besides, waking Erik was a nightmare that the servants suffered back in Targon and he wasn't, in any way, volunteering for that job in their place.

"Good morrow, Prince Jacob," bowed the butler.

"G'morning, Harold," sleepily replied the young prince, one hand on the doorknob, the other still rubbing his right eye.

Harold suppressed the urge to smile at the disheveled royal. He awfully reminded him of the late King Alexander, Queen Elsa and Princess Anna's deceased father. Harold was his personal servant, and watched him grow up, having served for the royal family since he was only twelve.

When he was but a young prince, he would also leave his bedchamber as disheveled as Prince Jacob, and Harold couldn't help but see his king in him. "Is there anything I can help you with, your highness?"

"Uhh, help me find the loo, I guess." Jack sheepishly smiled, brown bangs irritating his right eye.

"The Queen bid me to inform you and your companions that she has allowed your access to all of the castle's facilities for your convenience, of course, with the exclusion of their private royal bedchambers, studies, and the cellars." Harold flatly informed in his elderly tone, the moment the young Targon prince exited the bathroom. "The kitchens, the library, the halls, the musical room, the arts chamber, the stables as well-" Jack lightened up to this.

"Are the training grounds included?" The young prince smirked, turning to Harold. "For the archers, that is."

The butler nodded, "Our archers train on the open field on the second level of the kingdom. Anything else I can-"

But the young prince was already off, hurrying down the halls, ranger boots barely knocking on the wooden flooring. No winter would stop him from getting out of the castle anyway. Harold smiled amusedly, "So much like Alexander indeed."

Jack quickly headed back to the guests' bedchamber to gather his bow and quiver. When he entered the room, his darling brother was still snoring under the comforter. Jarle was in a more seemingly decent sleeping position—on the floor, that is, which very much explained the thud that woke him in the middle of the night. As for Espen, the knight seemed to have woken while he was gone. Nevertheless, the two remaining men were in the middle of a snoring competition, Jack figured. "Why am I not surprised," he muttered, shaking his head as he moved over to his bags.

When he was done tossing all that he needed on his bed, Jack shivered as he discarded his white undershirt. The morning sun was not hot enough to kill the winter cold as its rays entered the window and kissed his skin—a color between fair and tanned, as if he had been training under a canopy of leaves in the summer heat his entire life. It was partially true, for Targon, after all, was the kingdom of the Ergamoth, neighbor to vast kingless woods. It was high above plain grounds that Jack grew up training with the kingdom's rangers. He was fifteen when his father assigned him to an official team, and currently a young man of 24, he was already captaining his own band. Years of training and hunting sharpened not only his skills but, without any doubt, his form as well. Rid of the heavy winter cloaks they wore on their way to Arendelle, his biceps became more noticeable, arms as if perfectly sculpted. Torso naked, he bent over his bed to reach his tunic and as he pulled it over his head, moss green cotton hid his flawlessly chiseled midsection, once again. His belt didn't take much time to fasten, and Jack didn't really know if it was just easy work or if it was because he had been doing it for years. Lastly, he grabbed his bow and threw his quiver over his shoulder, not bothering to strap it before he exited the room.

THE FLAWLESS BOY'S FRATERNAL TWIN

Jack sped through the corridors, pausing every other while to give the other royal visitors bows whenever he passed by them, or when he had to greet Harold and the other servants with a quick good morning. The elderly servants found his childish personality uplifting, in contrast to the three persistent suitors and their parents. One was an extremely refined lad (who always had his parents in tow), the other was always raiding the kitchens (with an obsession over ale), and the third was all talk (not to mention he looked a little too scar-less to actually have gone through all those brawls and fights he always bragged about during dinners).

Jack ran into the first persistent suitor—the Nergish prince Francis—who turned out to be actually not that bad.

"Off on a hurry are we, Prince Jacob?" The prince had two servants following him, both carrying silver trays of food and tea.

Jack stopped and shrugged, bringing up his bow. "Morning training, I guess." Eyeing the two young servants, who were both smiling dreamily as they clutched the tray handles a little too tightly in his opinion. "Breakfast in bed?"

Francis chuckled, shaking his head and looking back at the two young servants (who both mentally squealed). "No, not for me at least. I'm not really a breakfast person. Mother and father are though." He turned back to the door and turned the knob, ushering the servants inside, before facing the Targon prince again, making sure he heard the click of the doorknob. "You mentioned training, if I heard correctly."

Jack nodded. "Not really a breakfast person myself either, I guess."

Making sure his royal parents didn't hear anything of his conversation with the other prince, Francis lowered down his voice, cautiously glancing back at the closed door. "Would you mind if I join you? I actually need a break from all the-"

Jack boyishly chuckled as he started walking slowly. He understood. Royal parents can be royal pains in the neck, especially in Francis' situation. He was silently glad his parents were nothing like Francis' ball and chain. Come to think of it, they were actually more of the opposite. "Not at all. Except those clothes don't look like they're going be comfortable for training, don't you think."

Francis brisk walked away from his parents' bedchamber. "Well, that's not a problem, really. You don't know how glad I am to be away from them even just for a while. I even cherish my time in the bathrooms, for Thor's sake." The Nergish prince rolled up his sleeves as they walked, and revealed a thin long-sleeve under his formal wear. "In case I get a chance, I'm always ready," he smirked.

"When you're born to parents like them," Francis facepalmed, letting his hand run down his face in exasperation. "And if you're NOTHING like them, you'll end up being creative."

Jack chuckled at the stressed prince walking beside him. You sound so much like Jarle it's getting creepy.

"By the looks of you, I'm guessing you're looking for the archers' training grounds. Because if we're heading there, we're going the wrong way."

AT LEAST THEY'RE SHARP SHOOTERS

"Well, this is…nice."

Francis briefly laughed at the Targon prince's reaction upon seeing the archers' training grounds.

Jack sent an arrow to one of the training dummies. It was not a surprise when it hit the exact bull's eye. The training fields were nice, in his opinion—with complete equipment and lots of elbow room. Literally. But for a man who grew up climbing trees and hunting in the vast woods that surrounded Targon, the fields were a little too…sissy.

"It's odd. I can remember Jarle saying that the Arendellian winter could be really harsh sometimes, being this far in the north, but the snow seems thinner than yesterday, don't you think?" Jack kicked the snow, and he was surprised to see soil that fast. He could remember it to be ankle-deep just last night. Their horses' gallops were actually drowned in the thickness of it.

Francis steadied his bow as he answered, not bothering to look back. "In rare occasions, the Queen would control the winter up here, calm it when it gets too hard on the kingdom, so I heard."

Jack nodded, grabbing another arrow from his quiver, pushing his suspicion to the back of his head. "Speaking of the Queen, there's quite a competition you've got, eh?," he joked. He snatched it up some time in the morning from the servants that the three other princes were suitors to the Queen, and frankly enough, he thought only the Nergish royal should actually have the guts to woo her. Even the maids despised the other two, that Donovan particularly.

Francis smiled, obviously humored. "Oh, I wouldn't underestimate Gavin. He might use his catapults on me," said the prince, imagining Sernu's beloved battle device.

"Fish catapults?" the other prince chuckled.

"I do believe we have sardine and that they're better than Sernu's lakefish." The the Nergish prince laughed, facing the dummy once again. "In a battle of fish and ships, we've got the sea. Sernu chose the great loch, and I honestly think nothing can be more foolish than that. 'Would have been better if they chose both." Francis loaded his bow again, still muttering about lakefish and lesser sea creatures as he smirked against the arrow. "Like what William and Edmund say, they've been sissy for too long. Besides, I'm not worried; this entire marrying ordeal wasn't chosen by me anyway. I honestly think it's unfair on both sides," he stated flatly, shooting the arrow.

Stopping midway in shooting another, Francis faced north. "By the way, this isn't really challenging," he raised a brow as he smirked, obviously changing the subject. "Since it looks to me that the Queen covered the forests as well this year. Would you like to train in the woods instead? That'll be about a few minutes ride from here."

Jack lightened up at this, not suppressing his smile. Training without obstacles and trees didn't feel like training at all. "To the stables, then."

TIME GONE DAFT

Jack easily warmed up to the Nergish prince as they both trained in the woods. Francis reminded him much of Jarle, a much more refined Jarle though. He was also surprised that the men of Nergond weren't just skilled in seafaring, but in archery and swordsmanship as well. For most of his life, Jack thought they only liked fish and nets. But then again, he shrugged it off; it was honestly a stupid thought.

The early sun lazily hung down on the kingdom, and Francis couldn't help but notice the seasonal change in his surroundings. It looked as if the Queen got a little too carried away and thinned the winter a tad too much that there was barely any snow on the branches. Arrow in hand, poised for the attack, his emerald eyes scanned the trees. The forest floor wasn't covered in a thick cloak of snow anymore, only particular parts were. Not to mention that the blanket was thin enough that their feet left soil tracks on the ground.

It was true that the Arendellian winter was usually too harsh for troops to continue their training outdoors, but this year's winter was different-noticeably different that the Queen had to control more than half of its power. It was as if they were already nearing the border of winter and spring as fast as the second week. Not to mention that the trees all had their leaves intact. Elsa never mentioned having an evergreen forest beside their kingdom.

An arrow flew dangerously close to his right ear, and only then did he remember that he was in the middle of training with Prince Jacob.

Nevertheless, something was still off. And he made sure to pocket that observation and notify the Queen later.

But when his eyes fell on the clearing, he grew even more curious.

The blonde brought his arms down and placed his arrow back to its quiver. "Jacob!"

Jumping off a tree, the second prince sheathed his arrow and joined the other in the clearing.

"We left the castle at precisely 6 in the morning," Jack nodded to this, twirling his dagger in his hand. "And just a couple of minutes after that, we reached the clearing and resumed our sparring. That had hardly been an hour ago." Jack nodded again, raising an eyebrow at the interruption of their training. "If I'm correct then, it should hardly even be noon yet."

The brunet realized his point a tad slower than usual, having been a little too engrossed in training to notice. Instead of milder sun rays that signaled an easy winter morning, the clearing was filled with fleeting orange lights, as if it was already sundown.

Jack's dagger stopped twirling in his hands. "Do you still think the Queen had something to do with the ice? And this too perhaps?" he asked, sheathing the dagger.

Francis narrowed his eyes and called for his horse. Quickly, the grey stallion galloped to its master as Jack's did to him. "Now I'm not so sure. I think we should inform the others."

CLOCKS AND SUNDIALS

"Sundials are better than clocks."

William frowned. "No, Edmund, you idiot. Clocks are more accurate."

The two young princes were out on one of the castle's gardens, debating about which is better in telling the time—the newly invented clock or the Greek sundial—both time pieces laid flat on the turf. Of course, William kept pointing out that sundials weren't universal, but Edmund would retort with a "but so are clocks, unless you already know the time and do a bit of tinkering with the hands."

Both were inwardly frustrated and neither wanted to back off. Suddenly, Edmund's sundial on the garden floor had its shadow turning faster than usual. William was shocked, and he quickly looked at the time tower just to the right of the gardens. It hadn't moved a minute.

"Well, I guess this ends our debate then?"

The older prince gaped as the sky started turning into a dark blue faster than what he can remember to be normal. "If this is the end of the world then I guess it does end our debate," said the Borgin heir, still gaping at the fast-changing hues of the sky.

THE TIME TO THAW

Two horses exited the walls of the kingdom in extreme haste. The moon was already out, clear and white it hung on the open, cloudless sky. It outshone the other heavenly bodies that rested beside it on the vast firmament.

Anna rode alongside her sister, bronze horseshoes violently striking the cobblestones and cutting what was left of the winter blanket. Elsa watched in a mixture of confusion, anxiety, and sheer horror as the great lake of their kingdom quickly thawed as they rode over the stone bridge. Freeing one hand, she sent a jet of ice to the lake in an effort to mend the cracks and splits. It felt like existing in one of her awful dreams. The ice cracked loudly, as the white concrete sheet separated and once again revealed the unsettling dark blue of the lake. Elsa's eyes widened—the same hands that brought forth an eternal winter once to Arendelle couldn't keep the lake frozen and intact. The cracks spread like webs, connecting, worsening by the second, the Queen's powers of no effect on them.

Gribold's side of the river had obviously thawed, and the lake had been connected once again to the great loch. With that very barrier gone, the northern waters were flowing once again.

But it was only the second week of winter. They were supposed to have an entire 5 months of winter on their side. 5 months of a thick blanket of snow, 5 months of angry northern weather, and 5 months of frozen fjords, rivers, and lakes.

But right before their eyes, those five months of winter and safety was already melting.

Both royal stallions thundered past the village and into the woods. The sound of their hooves against the stone floors and dirt roads could be heard as they splashed against the pools of melted snow. Over in a satchel attached to the Queen's horse sat the old leatherback.

Francis held the reins of his horse tightly as they reached the border of the forest. The moon was already up, and they had only been riding from the clearing about five minutes ago. Impossible.

In the hastiness of riding, long branches ripped their tunics, and one particular twig created a shallow cut on Jack's right cheek.

Both reached for their weapons as they heard the sound of fast-moving hooves from the village. Jack unsheathed one of his daggers, brows furrowed at the two unknown riders.

His blue eyes turned wide when he registered who they were.

"That's Queen Elsa and Princess Anna."

R&R would help A LOT. Thanks for dropping by, btw. And I'm sorry again! Me and my beta are busy as eff.

Love you for reading. *virtual hug*