Prologue

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A/N: This is my newest story, a medieval AU, as the cover implies. This will hopefully be updated regularly. I hope you enjoy this story, and as always, happy reading!

Edit (5/16/2020): I fixed the chapter a bit! 

"Grant us your blessing Your Highness, for you shall bring us victory." That was the last thing he said to the Queen before leaving to fight Pitch Black, the Nightmare King. Elsa looked down at the captain, his snow-white hair a stark contrast to the regal carpeting of the throne room. In another life, in another time, it would not have to be this way. Maybe if they had been born peasants, they would have led less privileged lives but at the very least would have been happy. However, this was no time for wishful thinking. The rising tensions had come to a head over the last few months and finally, a declaration of war. Despite her best efforts during negotiations, Elsa could not stop Pitch Black's thirst to conquer the entire continent. She could only hope their army would be able to stop the overwhelming amount of soldiers marching towards Arendelle's gates. Should Pitch Black's army cross their borders, she knew her country would suffer the consequences.

She willed herself to say nothing more than, "You have my blessing," to the captain. It was a tradition for the leader of the army to ask for the Queen's blessing. Despite knowing that this was a formality and he would say no more than necessary, somewhere in her heart she hoped that the captain would raise his head and grab her hand, beg, do anything to stop him from leaving her side.

"Thank you, Your Majesty. I will lead Arendelle to victory." Elsa's heart sank but she nodded. The captain of the army stood. He desperately searched the Queen's face for any sign of emotion, but all he saw were pale blue eyes, void of emotion, staring back at him. As he turned, he cursed softly to himself, angry that he had dared to give himself false hope. The Queen would never do anything to keep him in Arendelle and even if she did, he knew all too well the duty he was meant to fulfill. Still, as he strode out of the throne room, he wished she would call to him one final time.

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