Epilogue

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"The Duke of Weselton..."

The name was uttered by a pert little snowman who stood in the archway of the throne room, his arms held wide and his eyes fixed on Elsa.

Olaf had returned to his duty of announcing visitors to Arendelle, and as of late there'd been many, but few were able to elicit the scowl which twisted his features now. Beside him stood Peder, with his green hat tucked under his arm. He was the acting captain of the guard while Alek recovered, and his discontent was obvious as he waited for his queen's response.

Elsa, who sat upon her throne strumming the armrests, didn't share the gloomy evaluation of her companions. In fact, a smile played across her lips. She wasn't at all surprised to hear the ship which sailed into their harbor belonged to the Duke of Weselton; far from it, she was expecting him.

There were many ships which had come and gone since the end of the drought, ships which bore delegates from kingdoms both far and near, arriving to wish the queen and her people good fortune or to impart some gift of goodwill. Other ships brought with them expatriated citizens who were anxious to return to their homeland now that the danger had passed. They'd come pouring back in, like rain into a valley. Elsa anticipated their return but hadn't expected so many so soon. The population had burgeoned so quickly it put an immense strain on their supplies, of which there were few. There'd been no harvest this year and the kingdom had nothing left for which they could trade for the assets they needed. It would take time, and a lot of it, to recover from Inger's devastating curse, so as the people returned Elsa had to institute a policy of rationing. It was a policy no one liked, even if they understood the importance of it, and even with rationing she didn't know how long their resources would last. They needed an infusion of goods if she were to care for all the people depending on her for a solution.

"Should we tell him to leave?" Peder asked.

"No! Heavens no. Please, send him in."

The response wasn't what he expected. He pushed his hat back on and said, "Very well, we'll show him in."

They left and returned with the duke and his two companions, the brutes who followed him everywhere. Elsa wondered if the duke did anything without them, and she had a mental image of the three of them scrubbing each other's backs in the bathtub and then hopping into bed together. She had to suppress a laugh at that, but Marshmallow wasn't amused. He gave a deep rumble of a growl from behind the throne and the trio stopped short, the duke leaping behind his guards for protection. He drew them together like a curtain, peeking out from between their shoulders as he eyed the beast with contempt.

"Please," Elsa said with a wave of her hand, "come in. Mind your manners and you have nothing to fear."

The duke collected himself, pushing his men apart.

"Fear?" he said, marching toward her. "Is that a threat?"

"Not at all. It's merely a warning, for your own safety."

She had to give the duke credit for choosing to face her in person. After their last confrontation she expected him to send a representative of some sort, a lackey, like the two bodyguards who accompanied him now. But then again, she doubted his decision had anything to do with bravery, he didn't have a brave bone in his body; but pride can drive a man to do things which can be mistaken for bravery.

"What brings you back to Arendelle, duke?" The question was neither hostile nor inviting. "If I recall, the last time we spoke I banished you from my kingdom."

"You know why I'm here! I've come to protest your unlawful attack upon my kingdom."

"Attack? You were attacked?"

"You know very well who attacked us!" The duke said, taking a step forward and jabbing his finger at her. Marshmallow growled and he jumped back, hiding behind his men again.

Elsa wished she could say she derived no pleasure from seeing him so frightened, but watching the duke cower behind his henchmen was comical. She covered her mouth, coughing to conceal her amusement.

"What makes you think Arendelle had anything to do with this attack?"

The duke elbowed his companions apart

"A winter storm has settled upon Weselton. I was forced to flee my home. I know it was you!"

"A winter storm? I admit that's rare for this time of year, but it's hardly unheard of."

"It only affects my manor! An unnatural blizzard which rages day and night around my home. It even snows inside! You have no right to attack my kingdom, and I demand you stop at once!"

Peder came about with his hand on his scabbard.

"Watch your words, duke. You'll address the Queen of Arendelle with respect, or you'll leave."

The duke swallowed hard, but said nothing. Elsa raised her hand.

"Thank you Peder, but I'm sure violence will be unnecessary. Am I not right, Duke?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. I mean, no Your Majesty. I mean—"

"Good," Elsa said, and Peder withdrew.

Truth be told, she'd be happy to have the three men forcefully evicted, tossed out of the castle and sent scurrying back home on their ships. They'd been a menace to her and her kingdom. No, not a menace, that was too light of a word for what they'd done. The duke had cooperated with a rogue force intent on overthrowing Arendelle and murdering its queen. What he'd done constituted an act of war, and she had every right to treat him as an enemy of the throne to be dealt with in the harshest of terms. Without a doubt, that was what he deserved, however, she had something else in mind.

"By now you must know that Arendelle's drought was no chance occurrence. My aunt, presumed dead for many years, was living in the mountains and cursing us with her magic."

She watched for a change in the duke's expression. If he was uncomfortable with the direction of their conversation he was hiding it well.

"As it turns out, someone was providing her with water. It's quite the mystery, you know. Who would have the means and the motive to help an enemy of Arendelle? You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

The blood drained from the duke's face, making him look like a shriveled-up turnip. He stammered for a few moments before finding his words, which were so weak Elsa had to strain to hear them.

"Uh, no, Your Majesty."

He fidgeted with the buttons on his jacket, trying to hide his guilt. The room went quiet, and Elsa held the silence for a little longer as the duke squirmed like an insect on an entomologist's pin, and just when he looked like he could take no more Elsa stood, clapping her hands together.

"Very well! Then let us get back to the purpose of your visit. You say this storm is...unnatural?"

The duke cleared his throat, but his voice was still weak.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Gone was the fervor which absorbed him moments ago, the proud defiance which marked his request. Now he slouched, hunched over like a damp wick.

Elsa stepped off the dais of the throne and the men recoiled, the duke glancing over his shoulder as if to assure himself the door was still there.

"And I suppose you want me to help you?"

No doubt, this wasn't how he'd intended on framing his request, but she could tell he had no interest in challenging her view of the situation.

"Yes, Your Majesty," he said through clenched teeth. "I'm desperate to be free from this curse."

"Well, I certainly hate to see our closest partner in trade in such a state of desperation."

That wasn't entirely untrue, but the duke brought this upon himself, and she had no regret for the part she played in making him leave his homeland and request her help. Her people had suffered, and he bore much of the responsibility for that suffering, and whether he liked it or not he was going to make amends. She'd see to it that her people got the supplies and resources they needed to not only survive, but to thrive as Arendelle returned to its former glory.

"I'll make you a deal. I'll see what I can do about this...unnatural storm...which so troubles you. But only on one condition."

The duke flinched, as if she'd struck him, then nodded.

"Yes, Your Majesty. Anything you ask."

Elsa smiled. That's exactly what she wanted to hear.

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