A/N: Hey guys! So, if you visit my profile, you'll notice that I haven't published anything in about a year, not entirely by choice (you spend three hours a day revising admissions essays and then tell me if you're up for writing some more-that was my summer), but I have a deep relationship with Frozen at the minute and there were some things I wanted to try. Plus I'm hoping I'm going to have a little bit more time to write this semester than I did spring semester of last year.

P.S. If any of you were reading The Monster Under the Bed, I promise I haven't forgotten about you and, believe it or not, I do still plan on finishing it. It's just been an unbelievably busy year. If any of you were reading The Thing with Feathers, I would love to finish it, but it's all a bit up in the air at the moment.

There is a fine art to carrying on a productive conversation with oneself and Elsa has had years to master it. She is used to being able to hold these conversations in the privacy of her bedroom behind a locked door, however. She was unprepared for the stares she received as she walked from the dining room to her study going on about the crop trade. Today it's diplomacy with Corona. Elsa had briefly met the kingdom's crown princess at her coronation, before things had taken a turn for the worse, and she'd liked her. They had a lot in common. Of course, the fact that neither of them seem to have much experience interacting with, well, anyone is sure to take its toll on the relationship between their kingdoms in the future. There is a potential for so many misunderstandings bred from a lack of ability to communicate on both ends.

"Your Majesty." The voice of one of the stewards pulls Elsa from her thoughts. He's young, in his twenties, and carries an air of nervousness about him. Martin, she thinks his name is. She knows he's been working at the castle for several years, because she remembers seeing him return with the rest of the staff after her parents' funeral out her bedroom window, but it isn't exactly like she'd been on speaking terms with anyone up until about three weeks ago. "You have… visitors." He's panting like he's been running.

"Who?" she asks, her stomach beginning to drop. There are no meetings scheduled for today. She checked just before she left for breakfast this morning. She'd been relieved. One does not simply go from being a recluse one day to an extrovert the next, and people still terrify her, even the servants, even her sister, but, most of all, strangers. She feels the familiar sensation of frost beginning to lace itself along her knuckles and clasps her hands behind her back.

"It's a… delegation… from the Southern… Isles."

"Catch your breath, Martin," she replies, taking care to keep her voice level. "A delegation from the Southern Isles?"

"Yes, ma'am," he answers, pausing to take a few deep breaths. "Four of the Princes."

"Not the one we had the pleasure of meeting a few weeks back, I hope." She says bitterly.

"No, ma'am," the boy says. "Princes Ivar, Tomas, Rolf, and… Anton."

Truth be told, this development is not entirely unexpected. Elsa had assumed that King Henrik started putting together a delegation as soon as his youngest son returned from Arendelle in shackles. She'd been expecting some sort of communique was all. She hadn't expected four princes to simply show up one day, catching her on, of all days, a day when she wasn't expecting to have to meet with anyone in person, hasn't prepared herself mentally for the rigors of social interaction.

"Very well," she nodds. There is nothing to be done about it now. The Princes are here and she will have to face them. "Where are they."

"The drawing room," the boy answers. He seems to have calmed down. It occurrs to Elsa that he'd probably been expected her to be angry with him, like any part of this is his fault. Either that or he'd expected her to freeze him where he stands. She has to admit that the latter isn't an altogether unwarranted fear.

She nods once more. "Fetch my crown and meet me outside the door." She has taken up the habit of leaving her crown in its case on the desk in her study and wearing it only when she is receiving guests or making a public appearance. Anna once commented that it was too beautiful to be in a box all day, but she has never tried on the thing. Elsa's head is a apparently size larger than her mother's was.

Speaking of Anna, the Princess is approaching her now. Out of habit, the Queen glances quickly down the hallway behind her to check that she is not trailing frost and is pleased to find that the damage seems to have restricted itself to her knuckled.

"Good morning." It's the sort of polite, impersonal greeting that Elsa had perfected for whenever their paths crossed for the past thirteen years. Anna is having none of it. Whatever she's on her way to do, she abandons and, instead, turns on her heel to walk beside her sister.

"Where are you going?"

"The drawing room," Elsa replies shortly.

"And what are you going to do in the drawing room?"

The Queen sighs. "I have a meeting."

"With who?" Anna wrinkles her eyebrows. "I thought there was nothing on the agenda today."

Elsa stops to look at her sister. "How did you know that?"

"Hello?" Anna replies, her voice tinged with annoyance. "I get the schedule too. I am the heir presumptive now. I'm not completely unimportant."

"Oh, Anna," Elsa reaches for her sister's shoulder, only to ball her hand into a fist halfway and drop it back to her side when she catches a glimpse of the frost still woven like a spider web across her knuckles. "You know that's not what I was implying."

Anna nods. "I know." She starts walking again. "So who are we meeting with?"

"We?" Elsa repeats, raising her eyebrows. "Since when do you attend meetings?"

"Since I've barely seen you in two days."

They are approaching the drawing room now. Elsa can already spot the steward leaning against a wall to catch his breath again, the box containing the crown in hand.

"This will hardly be a time for sisterly bonding," Elsa replies. "I'm receiving the Princes of the Southern Isles. They've come to—"

"What?" Anna interrupts. Elsa becomes aware that she's stopped in her tracks.

"The Princes of the Southern Isles," she repeats. "Four of them, apparently. I imagine they've come to smooth over what happened after the coronation." They haven't spoken much about the coronation and the events that had followed since Hans' ship left port. Actually, they haven't spoken at all about it. It's a sensitive subject, Elsa knows, and she's been at a loss for how to bring it up, or even if her sister wants it brought up. It seems that now there is no choice. It had to happen eventually. They can't go on ignoring it forever. Elsa supposes that now is as good a time as any.

"And you're going to talk to them?"

"Of course," Elsa answers. "We can't allow this to come between our kingdoms. We've already lost Weselton as a trade partner." A bit of a rash decision on her part, in hindsight. "I imagine there will be others who will want to cut off ties with us once word of… well, once word of me gets back."

"Hans tried to kill us!" Anna argues.

"As I am well aware," she nods, bending down in front of the steward, allowing him to slip the crown into her hair. "Are you still coming? Thank you, Martin."

"No," Anna replies, crossing her arms with finality.

"Very well." Elsa turns and places her hands on the doorknobs of the drawing room gathering her composure, taming her fear. Don't feel, she repeats the familiar mantra in her head. She's learned in the past few weeks that it's impossible to abandon the mindset entirely. There are times when she has to simply be the Queen. Feelings come second.

"And his name is Marcus."

The Princes of the Southern Isles are conversing quietly around the fire, but they sink into low bows as Elsa enters. Murmurs of "Your Majesty" trickle through the room. It's strange, she reflects, to command this kind of respect at the tender age of twenty-one. She still hasn't grown used to it.

"Gentlemen," she greets as she approaches the group.

"Queen Elsa," one of the men takes a step forward. "Prince Ivar of the Southern Isles. Allow me to introduce my brothers, Prince Erlend, Prince Rolf, and Prince Anton." There is certainly a family resemblance, Elsa realizes as her eyes trail over their features. That is, there is really no question about the fact that these men are Hans' brothers. Prince Ivar has the same long nose and high cheekbones, Prince Rolf, the thin-lipped smile and wide green eyes, Prince Erlend, the same defined chin, and Prince Anton, the thick red-brown hair and sideburns.

"We'd like to take this moment to extend our deepest apologies for our brother's behavior," Prince Anton steps forward eagerly. He looks the youngest, younger than Elsa, it seems. "He is… being dealt with."

"Hans has been stripped of his princely title and duties," Prince Ivar explains, glancing over at his brother. Elsa knows he's the oldest of the four, because she was required to memorize the first three heirs to the throne in every kingdom Arendelle has dealings with, and he is the second in line. "He is currently confined to his chambers in the castle awaiting punishment. You understand why traditional imprisonment is not on the table."

"I do," Elsa agrees. "But you understand that we in Arendelle expect to see some definitive repercussions for Hans' actions. We can't give the impression that one can come into our kingdom, be treated as a guest, attempt to assassinate our entire royal family, and then return to one's own kingdom under only the threat of house arrest."

"We are agreed on that count," Prince Ivar replies. "The sanctions for Hans will be severe. Our father, the King, and Prince Nikolai are working out the specifics as we speak. You have my word."

Elsa nods in approval. Given recent events, she isn't exactly placing much trust in anyone's word at the moment, but she thinks it best not to bring that up. "We will talk retribution later. As you arrived unannounced, I have other matters to attend to today, but I invite you all to join the Princess and myself for dinner at seven."

"It would be our pleasure," Prince Rolf speaks for the first time, folding into another low bow.

"Marcus will show you to your rooms," she adds before turning to the door. "Marcus!"

One thing Elsa learned almost immediately in her first three weeks of non-seclusion is that, in stark contrast to her own, Anna's door is almost always open. Today, however, that is not the case. Elsa raises a hand to the door and raps twice. Her breath catches in her throat. If Anna doesn't answer, can she simply burst in uninvited? As the Queen, she certainly can, but as Anna's older sister, and while their relationship is still so cautious? And what if she tries to turn the handle but the door is locked? How embarrassing will that be? Oh god, how many times has she put Anna in this very situation over the years?

Elsa is saved from counting by footsteps slowly approaching the other side of the door. "Who is it?"

"It's me, Anna. Open up."

A pause, "No, I'm not sure I will."

"Come on, Anna," Elsa protests. "I need to talk to you."

"How does it feel?"

"How does what feel?"

"Being the one on the outside." The words hit Elsa like a rampaging horse, but she knows they're true. She sighs.

"The difference is, Anna, I always wanted to open the door. I was trying to protect you." It's barely a whisper, and, at first, the Queen is not sure her sister even caught it, but a moment later, a she hears a low creak at the door slowly swuings open.

By the time Elsa pushes it wide enough to see into the room, Anna is halfway back to her bed. "How can I help you?" her sister asks dully. Elsa is, again, reminded powerfully of the years she spent in seclusion, speaking to Anna, when she had to, politely but distantly. She steps into the room and pushes the door shut behind her.

At first, she considers trying to make some sort of small talk, but she knows it would come off awkwardly, and Anna would probably see right through it anyway. No, best to get straight to the point. "I've invited the Princes to dinner. I need you to be there."

Anna looks up, a fury in her eyes that was foreign to Elsa. "No."

"Listen, I've told you, we need to preserve future dealings with them," the Queen attempts to explain. "We have to be civil, both of us." She sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. "Anna, what would you have me do? We can't just go to war over this."

"Why not?" The question surprises Elsa and she looks back up to meet her sister's eyes.

"Because I'm not sure anyone else would take our side."

"What do you mean, 'our side'?" Anna questions. "There are no sides. Just us and them."

"There are always sides in a war, Anna."

"Well then, why wouldn't they be? We're the victims here. We're the ones who were almost murdered."

Elsa chuckles bitterly at her sister's indignation. "Because, the neighboring kingdoms might not have minded so much if Hans had killed me." Anna's mouth falls open. "As far as they probably think, that outcome might have been for the best."

"What do you mean?" the Princess drops her voice to a whisper. "How could they think…?"

"Consider what the delegates saw," Elsa implores. "I attacked you, Hans, and the Duke of Weselton with ice at the coronation. I plunged Arendelle into an eternal winter that completely devastated our economy and threatened the lives of our people. I created a snow monster that nearly killed several men, including a foreign royal. I froze your heart. I was sentenced to death for treason, for your murder."

"But none of that was true," Anna protests.

"Yes it is," Elsa emits another bitter laugh. "I did every one of those things. Right down to killing you."

"But it was an accident," her sister argues. "Because you were scared."

"And the only evidence the foreign delegations have of that is my word, and how reliable do you think that seems after everything that's happened?" the Queen explains. Probably about as reliable as the word of Hans' brothers. "Imagine what they told their kingdoms when they returned. Anna, the world is not on my side right now. We need to cultivate any relationships we still have. We are not in a position to hold grudges. And besides, you're popular. A lot more than I am, at the moment. I need you to have a presence." Anna opens her mouth to respond, but seems to decide otherwise. "Listen, Anna," her sister continues. "The other Princes of the Southern Isles were not here. I have seen no evidence that any of them had an inkling of what Hans was planning. That's all I need to know to do business with them. Now, I need you to be at dinner tonight." She turns to go.

"Elsa, wait." Anna takes a deep breath. "I know… I know you're doing your best. In more ways than one."

The Queen offers up a small smile. "Thank you," she replies, not entirely sure how to respond. "I appreciate that."

A/N: Authors aren't lying when they say reviews are what keep them going. After class for five hours and then a seven-hour shift at work, a single constructive review can be the difference between working on the next chapter or watching Netflix.

See you all at the next update!