Disclaimer: do these even exist anymore?

...

The docks were still in the predawn air. Any moment though signs of life would stir. Nearly every berth was filled, a novel sight along with Arendelle's open gates, and the new day would wake sleeping sailors about their business on the docks. The novelty and new trade potential beckoned cargo of all kinds as well as discover first hand about the new Queen's magic. New ships would come, old ones would go, and with that said Queen's ice Kristoff would board each one he could.

If there was something to know, if there had been even a hint of a pint sized princess being stowed aboard a vessel, he would hear it here. If she had been taken to the woods then Grand Pabbie would have known. The earth would tell him, but his magic did not speak to the waters. No. The docks were the pulsepoint that he check himself.

The ice Elsa had given him was all he needed as an excuse to board each deck and go below to stow it. There would be no trouble. He was no one and therefore no one would give him a second look. He couldn't help but give a rueful smile, split lip cracking, knowing that the thing that kept him from Anna originally would hopefully help him find her.

Anna.

Finding her.

The thought alone was enough to warm his blood. He had been a fool to let Elsa take her. He knew that now. Sven reminded him often enough. If he hadn't been so stupid - so scared - if he had only fought -

There wasn't time for those thoughts now. He knew more now than he did then. He had sorted through the mess of thoughts, the list of complications, a hundred and a dozen times but it always boiled down to one simple, immeasurably intricate point: he loved Anna He loved her and he knew that he had to find her if only to tell her that. He had to find her before she was forced to marry someone else.

Marry.

That word went through his chest like a knife.

Elsa's charge rang in his mind.

If she'll have you - you must marry her.

It hadn't been expected. Of all the things he thought he would hear the queen say in their clandestine meeting that had been the furthest from. He had expected threats, charges against his life if he entertained any additional impropriety in regards to her sister. He had expected harsh terms and restrictions upon the hoped rescue of Anna.

He had not expected her to tell him to take Anna away, to take her to wife. He had not expected the heavy purse of gold she had tossed at his feet. He had not expected the flush of fire that had gone through him at the instant, the unbidden rush of images that accompanied the very notion. There was skin and open mouth kisses, unhurried through the night. There were long days somewhere quiet where just the two of them could live out their lives together, raise a family, and this business of stations and classes and rights and privileges were forgotten. There was her and there was him and nothing to stop it from being whatever they wanted it to be.

He swallowed against the idea even now because he knew that could never be entirely true.

He knew Anna and he knew the lengths she would go for her sister. He knew the things that Elsa did not say. He knew that no one could force Anna into anything. Frankly he would like to see them try, but the look in Elsa's eyes when she told him The Southern Isles plans for her sister made him uneasy. It was not as simple as she made it out to be. It was not just Anna that was at stake and even if she refused to speak further on the matter, even if the annoying Captain of the guards glowered from his position at the door, he knew.

Elsa was sacrificing herself for Anna the same way Anna had done for Elsa on the ice barely a month before. He did not like it, knew Anna would hate it, but for once he almost agreed with the queen. Keeping Anna safe was the greatest priority, whatever the cost.

He stretched sore muscles as the first rays of sun crept over the horizon. It was time to get to work.

….

Her arms had given out in the dark. The cover of night had been the only time to work unguarded and with the lowest chance of discovery, but she had not been able to keep up her efforts. Between the incomplete healing of her one arm and the exhaustion and hunger working against her it had been a slim chance that she could have possibly picked the lock.

But she had tried.

She had tried herself bloody.

The rusted nail rested in the folds of her skirt. Her back pressed against the cold metal bars. The rough wood planks were unforgiving beneath her and she fought against the sting of tears. A guard would soon arrive to torment her, she knew.

Perhaps today they would sail.

Perhaps she would never see Arendelle again, never see Elsa, Kristoff….

She bit her lip so hard she nearly broke skin.

Every part of her hurt. Her tongue adhered to the roof of her mouth and she could barely swallow. The uneven fringe of her shorn hair stuck to an aching neck that tied to equally aching shoulders. Her arms were made of lead, her back made of stabbing hot pokers. Every bit of her begged to go to the narrow cot in the corner and just collapse and resign herself to whatever fate had for her, but she could not just yet.

Not when the words of the Southern Isle prince still echoed in her mind.

Not when a threat hung over her sister.

Not when Kristoff was out there not knowing how she truly felt.

No. She would collapse later. Now, she would fight.

….

He had listened most carefully to the stories he had heard at the pubs. He has listened to what his nieces had divulged in their inexperience. He had spent his time in the Southern Isles studying what many called fairy tales looking for guidance, answers.

Now, upon the back of a stolen horse, he smiled as he rode by lantern light through the woods. Elsa had not gone to the North Mountain by chance. It had called her, the magic in her blood strong, and it had sung to that strength. It had given her more .

For all his practice, his skill, he had never been able to animate his creations,to create life. Here his niece was able to without thought, without realizing the tremendous gift she was given. He would not squander such a treasure.

He would use it, use it to the full, and his smile grew wide as the sun rose above the pines.

….

They entered the secret hatch that led to the hidden labyrinth just as the sky turned pink. They had not returned directly. Capitan Falk had woven them through alleys and byways in a roundabout fashion. Even though the streets were empty Elsa supposed she could appreciate his discretion.

The hatch was hidden between two large buildings at the edge of the city. The narrow passage between them gave plenty of cover for the non descript portal. He held the hatch for her with an expression that said he was sorry he could not hold it and also go first onto the slick steps below, or at least that is what she thought it said.

She cannot be sure. Her mind swam as she descended, lantern in hand, into the dank corridor below. She did not trust herself to be honest with her own thoughts. She could not be certain how much she was simply wishing to see on his face.

What she is fairly certain she had not imagined, however, was the anger radiating off of him their entire walk. She could feel his deep seething behind his cool exterior just the same as she could feel her own frayed nerves. What is unclear, however, is exactly why. Was it what she had said to Kristoff - ordered of him? Was it because she was putting her sister's good above the good of Arendelle? Was it because she was unable to see any other possible solution to this riddle put in front of her and he finally saw her for the weak, frightened girl she was?

The steps beneath her feet crack with each step, ice spreading as she descended into the darkness of the tunnels and her mind. She hardly noticed the flurry that follows her. When she reached the bottom of the winding stair she kept moving, feet carrying her before she could quite realize she was unclear which path to take. Her mind is too preoccupied, instinct too exhausted, to subscribe to reason. She progresses into the dark with only the small star of her lantern to lead the way, down a fork to the left, with worried steps.

The counsel would assemble soon, the first grand counsel called by a queen since her mother had drowned. Before her coronation they had helped rule Arendelle in the place of a member of the royal family. She had sat in the meetings as she had when her father had run them, watching from a corner, gloved hands clasped tight in her lap hoping no one would notice her. Today that would not be an option. Today she would lead them as she watched her father do numerous times. The idea sent a dark chill through her.

Despite the fact that she knew these men, that her powers were no longer a secret, that she should feel prepared for this meeting, every piece of her feels loose and jangling. How could these men, the highest officials of the land, derive any other conclusion than she had? How could they find a way to restore Arendelle's name and honor that she had so carelessly tossed aside in a moment of bravado?

Would she forever pay for her rash decision to cut ties with two of Arendelle's closest trade partners? Was her life destined to be a mockery of what it could have been had she discussed with the counsel before she decreed The Southern Isles and Wessleton a scourge?

Arendelle had been peaceful for centuries. She had learned this in her countless lessons from her mother and father and carefully selected tutors. In all her time of study and discipline she had never been trained for war. She had never been trained for open doors.

She could hardly breathe when she heard a call echo after her. Was she imagining things? She blinked, the dark dank world around her coming into focus for what seemed to be the first time. She listened and heard the call once more. She turned towards it and finds a jagged path of icicles in her wake.

She had wandered, but at least she had left her own version of bread crumbs behind herself.

"My Queen!" She heard it again and knew the gruffness of that voice. The captain, her captain - no -

Never that.

She shook her head.

Where had she been going?

A dim light grows before her and before long she can make out sharp, masculine outline of Capitan Falk. Heat pools in her belly like liquid honey at the sight of him. That paired with the strange mix of fear and relief at the sight of him rendered her legs useless. She stood still as he approached. Her heart throbbed with each of his steps. By the time he was close enough that she could see the sharp cut of his jaw, the height the lantern light offered his cheekbones, she was certain he could hear it beating.

"Where are you going, My Queen?" She tried not to notice the breathless edge to his voice when there was no cause for it.

Why would he have need to be short of breath? She had not gone far, surely. He had found her, clearly. There was no need -

She cannot consider needing at the moment.

"I - " She started, but nothing jumped to mind.

She had no answer. She needed no answer. She was the queen and queens did not answer to guardsmen and yet all she wanted was to tell him her every racing thought. She wanted to tell him of her imminent marriage, the heat and the terror the very idea sent through her. She wanted. She needed.

She felt ice shudder out beneath her feet.

She would make no excuse, give no apology. Any type of arrangement between the two of them was unfair as it was impractical and the faster she addressed this the more quickly things might make sense again.

She squares off her shoulders and ignores the worried note in his grey eyes, the raw heat of the things he did not say. He wanted to speak as well, she saw, but did the same as she. He knew his place. Good. That would make this easier.

"Return me to the castle, Capitan." She mustered as much queen into her tone as she could while her insides shooks and shivered.

A muscle ticked in his jaw, but he nodded his head. "Yes, My Queen."

He turned just as the ice grew red.

….

Just as Kristoff had suspected he had no issue delivering the special gift of magic un-melting from the queen. Many of the ships regarded it as an honor, while a few more superstitious sailors eyed it warily but dared not refuse. Turn away a gift from the ice queen while docked in her harbor? That would be foolish indeed.

He carried the blocks on one by one, loading them into cargo holds and captains cabins alike. He often was unescorted, his presence so unthreatening and benign. He thought perhaps his swollen face and bruises made the crews if not uncomfortable but not as likely to ask him questions. Perhaps it was the issue of the queen. Whatever it was he was relieved that for the most part he went unquestioned and unmolested.

That was why when he came to the ship flying Atlantica's colors he was surprised when he met resistance. A man with dusty blonde hair and thick side whiskers met him where the gangplank met the deck just as the sun peaked its head above the horizon. He face was lined with age and weather but his broad shoulders showed there was still sizeable power left in him. Kristoff kept his head down, the heavy ice block held by equally heavy tongs upon his back, and mumbled what had become his standard line.

"A gift from Her Majesty for all those who come to her shore."

The burly sailor curled his lip, thick arms crossed over an equally thick chest. "We want nothing from your witch."

His tone and expression left very little room for dispute on this fact. Kristoff believed him wholeheartedly, but the term stung nonetheless. Elsa was many things, but a witch was not one of them. What she did with ice was something he could only imagine, could only admire.

He did not want to cause trouble but, no matter what terms he was on with Elsa, he would not simply sit by and listen to her be besmirched.

He straightened, pulling the ice down from his shoulder to his feet. On the decline of the gangplank the sailor was taller than he by a few good inches. Kristoff had been in enough fights to know that even with youth in his favor he would be hard pressed to find an advantage with this man at this position. Plus what would he get for fighting the guard? It would not get him closer to Anna.

Instead he tried on the very ill fitting garb of diplomacy.

"The queen insists."

The words rumble in his mouth like marbles, strange and uncomfortable. They barely made their way out.

Okay. So diplomacy was not his strong suit.

He looked up to the sailor and saw the wheels of his mind turning. Clearly it was not his forte either because he glanced up on deck just long enough that Kristoff knew he was not entirely certain of his position. He watched him with his one good eye until the large sailor dropped his posture and grunted.

"Let me check with the first mate. Don't be going nowhere."

With that he turned his back and headed towards the officer's cabins. Kristoff stepped up onto the main deck with ice in tow, pulse raising, and waited.

….

When the lock clicked open she could hardly believe it. Her hands fell heavy between the bars even as the door of her cell swung open against her weight. She ended crumpled on the rough boards, chest heaving, unaware that she had been holding her breath. Her heart clenched. Had she really done it?

Her good arm, weak though it was, pressed her up to see her freedom presented to her. Her spirit soared even as it crashed. She did not know the lay of the ship, but she knew it was small. She had watched enough ships come in and out of the harbor on trade ventures from her window to know this was no grand cargo ship. This was a ship built for speed, short travel, and despite the supplies that crowded the below deck with her she knew that above her there most likely was a level of sailors who were instructed to keep her exactly where she was. Though the torment of Han and his brothers had gone for the night (most likely due to their needs for sleep) she is not stupid enough to assume they had gone far.

She knew then that two things beyond opening her cell with a bloodied nail must happen for her to truly be free.

First she must be able to pass the sleeping and non-sleeping sailors.

Second she must be able to get off the deck, to the shore, and to safety without compromising Elsa or Arendelle.

Suddenly the task of springing a rusted lock is the least of her possible accomplishments, but being on the low end of the odds has never stopped her before. She'd be damned if it stopped her now.

….

King Petter slept well that night on his ship, but Hans couldn't rest. Perhaps it was the pain in his cheek or the adrenaline of his upcoming kingdom. Whatever it was he spent the night tossing and turning in his small bunk, Anna's braids tucked safely beneath his pillow.

….

It was the strangest thing when he saw her and not just because it was unexpected to spy her creeping above deck of an Atlantican ship, but just how she appeared. Though he had seen her in much greater states of undress, held her in it, it was something else entirely to view her in the early dawn after these torturous days apart in nothing but knickers and odd shirt tucked in them. Her hair was caught up in darker fabric in a turban of sorts and in many ways she looked boyish, but one glance at her eerie blue-green eyes, the sweet slope of the freckled bridge of her nose, and he would know her anywhere.

"Anna," his breath caught on first attempt, barely more than a whisper. The shock of it all stole his voice as he saw her frantic gaze sweep the otherwise empty deck. "Anna!" He tried again to better success.

Her gaze catches his and her entire face lights. He was certain his was a perfect reflection. He could not try to describe the feeling of seeing her, so he would not. He would simply stride towards her as she ran to him and -

The blow from behind is startling. He should have paid better attention to the space around him but he hits his knees regardless. Anna's face is pale and wan as he watches her expression shift from disbelief to horror. His whole head rang with the impact. His experience with fighting had often come with a warning so this anonymous blow caught him off guard.

Still, even with head ringing and eyes swimming he manages to drop his ice and roll forward to stand. He has no thought for his ice tongs, for the cost of losing them. He only thinks of Anna. Warm, sweet, fearless Anna. By the time he stood his assailant is upon him once more. It was the same man that met him on the gangplank. Those thick arms and broad shoulders come to brutal use as he swung again in Kristoff's direction. All he can do is block and evade. The sailor kept the hits coming, clearly an experienced fighter, and it is all Kristoff can do to keep up on his knees.

Any second he knew the ship would be swarming with sailors attempting to hide the horrible truth, to hide Anna away or perhaps dispose of her entirely.

He could not allow that to happen. He braced his forearms across his face to take a knee and stand against the onslaught. There were things he needed to say, to do, to tell Anna before it was too late. He'd be damned if he let some no-named Southern Isle lackey decide how this day went.

He barely managed to stand before the sailor swept his legs. He hit the deck with a thud and this was not good.

This was where he most likely would say goodbye to any chance of pulling this together. He had fought before but what this sailor had to offer clearly surpassed his own skill. Plus he had the low ground. If only he could -

Just as he was bracing to block another blow, calculating his next move,something happened.

He could not call it unexpected, but he could call it providential.

There was an inexplicable whoosh crack that he was certain had to be his blow to take, but he felt nothing. Instead he parted the tight cross of his arms to see the burly sailor feel and fall to the side revealing Anna with his ice tongs in hand. The early morning glow illuminated her like the saints of old and now he understood why people believed in miracles. She was gorgeous.

He did not hesitate to rise and sweep her along after that. Despite the blows taken he knew there was far worse waiting if they did not escape quickly. With what Elsa had said it was clear that even Arendelle was not their ally. They had to run.

He barely had time to process the fragile weight of her in his arms as he swept them down the gangplank and tossed her onto Sven's back. The large sailor had recovered enough by then to rally the alarm and call notice to the escape in progress. There was no way Sven could carry Anna, himself, and the sleigh. So for the second time since knowing Anna detaches sven's harness from the mount and abandons his sleigh in favor of saving her. He jumps astride behind her.

Sven knew just what to do.