Backstory for 'Queen's Rook':

The third story in the "Once Upon A Time in Arendelle" universe, (which has NOTHING to do with the TV show) finds Queen Elsa struggling with building a relationship with her new lover, Captain M.C. Fitzwilliam.

Fitz commanded the formidable warship "Vigilant", which was sent by King William of Avalon to acquire Elsa by any means necessary, including torture and kidnapping. Captain Fitzwilliam instead found herself captivated by the Snow Queen, and allowed her heart to lead her into treason and imprisonment by the Duke of Ledsham, who was determined to take Elsa back to Avalon.

He neglected to account for the power of Elsa of Arendelle. Demonstrating that power by damaging the Vigilant almost beyond repair, rescuing Fitz from chains and potential execution, and teaching Ledsham that Arendelle might be a small Kingdom, but it is by no means helpless while she's the Queen, Elsa sends a strong message back to King William.

In the aftermath, Fitz and Elsa must build a relationship; a relationship that neither one has any experience with. This is the story of that painful, tentative, troublesome relationship building.

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Prologue: Several weeks ago ...

The pub was busy; it was well into the wee hours of the morning and the crowd had started to dwindle, but still there was a steady flow coming through the doors, and some hard core drinkers who hadn't gone home from earlier. It was near the docks, so the clientele tended to be sailors looking for shore leave fun and burly dockworkers. A rough crowd, in other words.

One sailor drained his tankard of ale, waved it toward Brandy, and got a wink that told him it would be refilled promptly. "Just this one more, Erik, me boy. Then home to the missus, and another day at the Admiralty tomorrow."

Erik Jorgensen was a yeoman in the Royal Arendelle Navy. He had served since signing on as a seaman apprentice at 16. Thirty years on, he had worked his way into a cushy job at the Admiralty. Nights at home in his own bed with his own wife, no reefing topsails in a roaring blizzard, and good ale to drink instead of that vile stuff the Navy called 'rum'. For the thousandth time in thirty years, Erik wondered if someone wasn't just playing a joke on the Navy when they sold it to them.

Erik was not just a yeoman; he was the yeoman, the Admiral's yeoman. The Admiral who made the decisions about every personnel move in the Arendelle Navy. Everyone wanted to be his best friend, thinking they could influence the Admiral's process by dropping a word into Erik's ear, or a coin into his pocket.

None of it worked. It had taken Erik too much hard work to get to where he was, and he wouldn't sell his integrity for a mess of pottage. The Admiral knew it, too. He trusted Erik, and trusted his judgement about people. They often discussed potential assignments. Erik and the Admiral were both old salts, with the sure touch of knowing the best fit for a billet when a name came across the desk looking for a new assignment.

Just as he was reaching for his wallet to pay his tab and go, a loud crash and flying tankards caught his attention.

"You bastard! I'll kill you!" Shouted a dockworker as he picked himself up from the debris of a smashed table and lunged at a very big and burly fellow standing over him. Bar fight!

Erik hastily moved out of the circle of destruction the fight was creating. It wasn't HIS fight, and he had spent enough time in dockside bars to know when being an onlooker was the safest thing to be. It looked to be an interesting fight, though, so he moved over to where he saw Brandy watching it with lively interest.

"Here, darlin', let me pay up so if I need to hastily vacate the premises you don't get shorted!" he slipped the coins into her hands, and got another saucy wink in return.

"Thank you kindly, Erik!" Brandy knew all the regulars, and made sure to treat them well. Tips made up a large part of her wages, but it wasn't just avarice. She genuinely like people, and made friends easily.

They both watched the brawl for a moment. It seemed to be somewhat uneven a match: five dockworkers against the big burly man and someone dressed rather more fashionably than the dive's usual clientele. A strange pair to be bar buddies, it seemed.

"Who's the big man?" Erik didn't know him, but he thought Brandy would.

"That's Kristoff, the Ice Master and Deliverer. You know, the one who's been squiring the Princess Anna for the last year?" Erik recognized him now that his memory had been jogged.

"And the well-dressed fellow? Doesn't seem like the type to hang in bars like this..." Erik asked her.

Brandy's pealing laughter almost cut through the din of the fight. Kristoff had just tossed one tough into the liquor shelves behind the bar. Overhand. Shelves and tough crashed to the floor behind the bar, as Kristoff looked around for more goons to toss.

"That's no fellow! That's Captain Fitzwilliam, late of His Majesty's Navy of Avalon! SHE apparently has become good friends with the Queen." Brandy blew a kiss at Captain Fitzwilliam, who was too busy kicking one of the toughs in the groin to notice.

"Ouch!" Erik winced in sympathy. "Wait, 'She'? That's a WOMAN?" Erik wasn't sure he had heard correctly.

"Aye, she is that. But more of a gentleman than most of the crowd I've had to deal with." Brandy was watching Fitzwilliam with what Erik could only call fondness. "She came in here the night of the Queen's Celebration and proceeded to get stone cold drunk. I tried to have my way with her, but she would have none of it!" Another laugh. "She already knew she only had eyes for one woman."

They both ducked as a bar stool came flying in their direction.

Erik had known Brandy a long time. "Which woman?" He was interested when a sailor could resist her considerable charms. She had a sweet personality, and loved everyone.

"Why, the Queen, you ninny!" Brandy giggled. "Weren't you paying attention when the Queen put that big ship up on that ice mountain in the harbor? And tore it all to pieces? Some of the boys who came in here said it was because that little dirtbag Duke had put Fitz in chains, so the Queen came to rescue her."

Erik had heard the entire story at the Admiralty, of course, but that version was rather more about dry politics: that the Duke had tried to blackmail and kidnap Queen Elsa at the behest of King William of Avalon. King William considered Queen Elsa just another pawn in his game of thrones, someone to be possessed, like a prize mare or hunting dog. So, the Queen had demonstrated to mighty Avalon that she might be a young woman and Queen of a small kingdom, but that NO ONE would threaten her kingdom and her people while she had a breath left in her body. Fitzwilliam's part in the affair had not come into the conversations, although it was well known she was the captain of the vessel Avalon had sent. Brandy's version intrigued Erik.

Fitzwilliam was being charged by the largest of the brawlers, who had murder in his eye. She deftly ducked his punch, grabbed his shirt, pivoted neatly, and used his own momentum to throw him through the front window of the bar, crashing onto the pavement in a shower of wood and glass. She stood there, chest heaving with deep breaths, looking around for another assailant. There were none. She and Kristoff were the only ones left standing.

The gendarmerie finally showed up. Typical, Erik thought. Just in time to arrest the guilty without having to get their pretty uniforms dirty. He snorted.

Brandy sent another little finger wave and blew a kiss at Fitzwilliam. Who nodded stiffly in acknowledgement as two gendarmes took her arms and led her away. Three more had Kristoff. They had called a cart for the five bravos lying about, out cold. Those wouldn't be walking anywhere for a few hours.

Brandy sighed. "Oh, how I wish someone loved me the way Fitz loves Queen Elsa."

"How can you be sure she loves her? Being the Queen's ... uh ... friend is pretty lucrative. Many men have sought her hand for that reason alone. Love doesn't usually come into it." Long service in the Navy had left Erik a little cynical about high-born politics.

"No, Erik, not this one. Truth comes out when the liquor flows freely. That first night, I told you Fitz passed up my kisses, but she was truly poetical talking about the Queen. Then, she really did wind up in chains. The Duke's bully boys made it pretty plain when they drank here that Fitz wouldn't go along with that pig and his plans for the Queen. They said the Duke would torture her if Elsa didn't agree to come with the Duke to Avalon."

She continued, "So instead, the Avalon warship limps back to where it came from, and Fitz stays here. She's one of King Billy's byblows, did you know that? Except for fighting duels with stupid men over the word 'bastard', she had a pretty good life in Avalon's navy. And she gave it up for love."

Erik was thoughtful. "So, why start a fight in a dockside bar? Why even COME to a dockside bar? I'd think there's plenty to do around the castle."

"Those bastards were making lewd remarks about Princess Anna. Fitz told them to shut their filthy gobs and the fight was on. Kristoff was out back in the privy, he probably doesn't even know about that part yet."

This impressed Erik. Five to one odds? This Fitzwilliam certainly didn't lack courage. Or a concern for the honor of the royalty of Arendelle.

Brandy wasn't finished yet. "And Kristoff and I were talking before Fitz came down to eat. She's been driving the castle staff loony. Seems that you can't make a house cat out of a tiger. She adores Elsa, but she needs her own ... usefulness. And now that's gone, and she's at loose ends and isn't dealing with it well." A sigh. "I hope they figure it out. They both need love."

"Brandy! Get over here and let's start cleaning up this mess!" The bar's owner called to her, hand on his hips, shaking his head as he surveyed the damage ruefully.

"Okay!" She turned to Erik, "Well, gotta run, darlin'! You better get home to the missus!" and she went over to help the owner.

Erik just shook his head and headed home. The things you learn in bars.

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"The only thing worse than a fool in love ... is two idiots in love."

Princess Anna of Arendelle, 1841

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Chapter 1

One of the constants in any branch of the service was "hurry up and wait." So, while the Navy wasn't as prone to this mantra as the other branches, Fitzwilliam was still used to it, and as such she didn't think it unusual when she arrived bright and early in the morning hoping to catch Admiral Naismith, the commander of Arendelle's military forces, most notably its Navy, before his day began only to be ushered to a chair and told to wait. Waiting was not her favorite thing to do, but for this she would wait. She had even prepared herself this morning for waiting, giving herself an internal pep talk about the virtue of patience while she donned her freshly cleaned and pressed tailcoat, crisp trousers and well polished boots. And it wasn't like she hadn't been waiting already.

She had sent a letter of introduction to the Admiral two days after she came to the decision she was staying in Arendelle. Those first two days being spent exploring the very reason she had decided to stay, and those explorations proving time consuming and somewhat arduous, more than she had originally expected. But Elsa had been very enthusiastic and a quick study - at any rate she'd sent the letter as soon as she was able and had not heard a thing back in the intervening eight weeks.

This made her nervous. Fitz wasn't at all concerned that she was qualified; in her own estimation she was more qualified than anyone else in Arendelle's Navy to serve as an officer here, but there was the matter of her prior service. She had taken an oath upon receiving her commission from Avalon, and she had broken that oath. It had been for a good reason, and she'd do it again if she had to, but forsworn was forsworn. An officer was only as good as his or her word, this too was a constant across the branches of the service - and across continents. So there was this little niggling worry that sat at the back of her consciousness pricking her from time to time. Would Naismith want a forsworn product of Avalon in his Navy? It was ... worrisome.

The pricking had grown to a constant twinge when the Admiral's Yoeman, Jorgensen was his name, had let her know, not unkindly, that the Admiral was out for lunch. Fitz had stayed where she was; she didn't have the stomach for lunch anyway.

The twinge became a dull throb as the afternoon crept by; officer after officer slipping past her, through the heavy oaken doors that were otherwise closed, into the Admiral's office.

The dull throb was a blinding headache with an equal portion of nerves and anger when she noticed other office staff from the Admiralty starting their routine of closing up shop. It was absolutely clear. Admiral Naismith was avoiding her, something she resolved to end then and there.

"Sir? Uh, Madam ... you can't ..." Jorgensen said as she walked resolutely to the door, pulled it open, and stepped through. The rest of his caution was lost as thick door closed, effectively sound proofing the room.

"Excuse me?" Admiral Naismith looked up, surprise turning to annoyance.

"Admiral, I am M.C. Fitzwilliam. I sent you a letter about two months ago, inquiring about joining Arendelle's Navy."

The Admiral frowned and then sighed. This was not a conversation he had wished to have. "Yes, Fitzwilliam ... I remember."

"Good, although I brought another letter just in case, outlining my particulars." She pulled the letter from her coat pocket and offered it to him.

"Fitzwilliam," he said, waving the letter off. "The only particular I needed to see was that you were a Captain with Avalon."

"And not a bad one, if I do say myself. My service record is one of the most ..."

"... which makes your service here quite impossible."

"Sir?" She shook her head as if she had heard wrongly. She hoped she had heard wrongly.

"You are aware that Avalon threatened Arendelle and attempted to kidnap our Queen."

"Unfortunately, yes ..."

"Why of course you were." Admiral Naismith was suprised at how angry the memory of that incident made him, even now. He had been involved intimately in preparing a defense against Avalon's warship, though nothing in Arendelle's Navy would be able to do more than scratch its hull. He hadn't been involved in the resolution. Protecting the Queen was the purview of the Queen's Guard, but he had heard enough from Captain Larsson. It had been a despicable plot. "You were the captain of the ship that was going to take her away, weren't you. That makes you what, a ... conspirator?"

Fitzwilliam was shocked by that accusation, her temper further heightened. "Hardly. I would never do such a thing. I didn't know ..."

"What you knew or didn't know is immaterial, Captain. You were a well placed officer in what is now an enemy force. Further, I took the liberty of inquiring with our intelligence officers. Not only were you the Captain of the ship that threatened us, you are related to the King who ordered you to do so."

"I resigned my commission. I am no longer in Avalon's service. I cannot help whom I am related to!" Fitzwilliam let go of the anger and frustration that had been building all day in a loud retort.

"Captain ..."

"I am NOT a Captain; that is what I am saying!" She raised her voice again and a vein on her neck throbbed in time to her racing pulse.

Admiral Naismith took a step back to allow them both to take a breath.

"Madam. I cannot take the risk. I am not a young man, and I have seen any number of plots unfold over the years. I am also familiar with Avalon's modus operandi. If in twenty-five years nothing has happened, then I will apologize to you. But I will not be sorry. I would however be very sorry if we took you in, and it turned out to be one of King William's damnable plots. So thank you for your offer, but we will not be accepting it."

Fitzwilliam knew she was dismissed with the outcome she had dreaded the most. Her inflection turned bitter, her expression cold and flinty. "I suppose then, if I am to wait twenty-five years to be exculpated, I had better wish you good health."

The Admiral nodded, but didn't respond. He merely turned and went back to stand behind his desk.

"Good day, Admiral." Fitz shouted as she made her way out of the door, her voice as tight as her fists. Her jaw was set. Her eyes were flashing in anger. She slammed the door with enough force to sound a resounding thud, and she started to stride across the antechamber.

Erik got up to intercept her. "You're Fitzwilliam."

She wheeled and snapped, "Yes. What of it?"

Erik took a breath. This tiger made a poor housecat indeed. "You're a friend of Brandy's ..."

"Brandy ... oh." She nodded and seemed to recover some of her temper. "Sorry. I'm not myself. But yes, I suppose I am a friend of Brandy's."

"She thinks quite highly of you."

Fitz couldn't help the sarcastic bark. "Well, I'm glad someone does. Apparently it's a short list." Then she turned and stormed out the door into the evening.

Erik looked from the closing door to the Admiral's already closed one. He didn't need to be a soothsayer to know what had happened in there.

He considered his next move carefully. It was his integrity on the line. The Admiral trusted him, and he wasn't about to call on that trust without a damn good reason. But, he remembered his oath. When he took it originally it had been to both King and Country, now it was to the Queen as well as Arendelle. If Brandy was to be believed, and Erik trusted her the way the Admiral trusted him, Fitzwilliam's happiness went straight to the Queen's.

"Come." The Admiral looked up from checking off the last of his work for the day to find Yoeman Jorgensen standing before his desk. "Yes, Erik?" he asked.

"I couldn't help but notice that your interview with Captain Fitzwilliam didn't go well, Admiral," Jorgensen stated.

"Yes, I don't think 'former,' as she very clearly put it, Captain Fitzwilliam expected to be turned down."

"I rather imagine she didn't, sir. She has quite a jacket. Avalon thought quite highly of her."

"Which is the problem." The Admiral put down what he was working on and leaned back in his chair. "I could be persuaded to accept her. At least if she were here, we could keep a proper eye on her, right?" The question was rhetorical and Jorgensen knew it. "But the rest of the command staff, they'd be livid. They don't trust her. Hardly a meeting goes by without someone wishing they could trounce her roundly and send her back to where she came from."

"Ah yes, sir. I've heard some of that. Although anyone thinking to lay a hand on her had better be prepared."

Naismith nodded. "Her martial prowess is not the issue, you understand."

Erik took this as the right moment to go to the heart of the matter. "So, and forgive me if I'm being impertinent sir, but are you aware that she is ..." Erik paused wanted to get the phrasing just right ... "a dear friend of the Queen's."

Naismith's eyebrows threatened to crawl right off the top of his forehead. "Yes, of course I do. If I didn't then I should resign, yes?"

"Of course, sir. I just wanted to – well, not presume anything."

They shared a look that said they both understood exactly how awkward this conversation was. "And so you know this, how?" the Admiral asked.

"Yes, sir, I um ... I saw her defending ... um ... the Queen's ... errr ... honor recently. It was quite impressive. And well, Brandy filled me in on the particulars."

"Brandy? Yes. She would be one to know if anyone did." The Admiral agreed with a nod. He appreciated that a tavern was a place where many of the finer points of the lives of the upper class were shared amongst the people who worked for them.

"Yes, sir. And, again, if I may ask, is the rest of the Command Staff aware of this deep friendship?"

"Of course, not!" Naismith sputtered. "I wouldn't betray something like that."

"Ah, yes, sir." Jorgensen waited for the Admiral to put it all together.

Naismith knew he was missing something. Jorgensen's face said as much. What was so important about the Command Staff not - of course. "I see. That's a valid point. I, and you, have an appreciation of the young Captain that the others may not have."

"Indeed, sir. I mean the Queen is hardly a reckless person."

"Yes, right," Naismith stifled the chuckle. "I do not think I know a less reckless person." He thought some more. "But I'm not about to introduce her as the Queen's - that is right out."

"Understood, sir." And that had never been Erik's thought. The idea of a telling anyone about the Queen's private life made him blush like a boy at a Sunday dance. "Perhaps the Command Staff would be swayed by another guarantee of her loyalty, sir?"

"Perhaps, but what?" Naismith wracked his brain. They already took an oath upon entering the service, and then the officers did again upon receiving their commission. This wasn't the middle ages where ..."Oh, I've got it." It was the perfect idea. "She could swear herself personally to the Queen. Not just the standard oath, something more - impressive that will make everyone else, and conceivably her, think twice before they question her loyalty."

Erik nodded. He hadn't considered exactly what this other guarantee would be, but this sounded perfect. "Just the thing, sir."

Naismith continued, as he started to look through some historical volumes he had on the bookshelf against the wall. "You know they used to do this often, well a very long time ago before even my grandfather's time." Naismith's grandfather had fled Avalon in fear for his life from the notoriously unstable political situation. It hadn't gotten any better over there in his estimation, and that was no doubt one reason why he didn't trust Fitzwilliam entirely. "Yes, they swore fealty all the time. I guess loyalties were more fluid then."

"Or people better armed," Erik added.

"Yes, right. So I'll suggest this to the Queen. She'll have to approve it, but I am sure she will."

"Wonderful, sir."

"Easy for you to say, Jorgensen," Naismith said with a wince. "You don't have to tell the Queen what the problem is and how you came to a solution."

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A/N: First credit for the prologue goes entirely to grrlgeek72, who also beta'd this. I also want to remind the readers that fluff to soothe your soul may be found in HEA, and into every life a little snow must fall. - SSN