Michael’s Musings: A Special Visitor

Featured image art by Arute (@ast05water)

Arendelle’s been a regular hive of political action since we’ve returned from Saint Petersburg. It was getting somewhat hectic getting back into the routines with preps for Katina’s sabre rattling. So in a moment’s break from the business of government and seeing a picture done by the Royal Painter Arute (which this newspaper’s readers can enjoy), I reminisced about a very special visitor to Arendelle and Northuldra.

This special young lady is a friend to the Diarchy and is a dear friend to our friends in the Kingdom of Corona: King Frederick, Queen Arianna and their daughter and her hubby, Princess Rapunzel “Raps” and Prince Regent Eugene Fitzherbert. The former, irreplaceable Lady-in-Waiting to Raps, Cassandra.

Cassandra was at one time, a snarky, sullen Lady-in-Waiting to Rapunzel, mostly because she was unhappy with the position. She trained and was born to fight as a warrior, which in some circles, was unpopular and looked down upon.

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Anna and Mattias: War Games by Firelight

Arendelle Castle

Anna sat in her lime green nightdress by the Great Hall’s fireplace, where she ate dinner with Kristoff and would often frequent for a late night supper alone. It was becoming more and more a habit, thanks to long hours working and staying awake well past midnight, before the crack of dawn forced her up to attend to national affairs once more. It was a far cry from when Elsa would drag her out of bed.

Tonight wasn’t much better as she sat by the warm fireplace, her hands around a wooden mug of black tea. She didn’t turn around as she heard boots nearing her. She heard her general’s deep, reproachful voice.

“You went ahead with writing that column and asking Chief to publish it. You included the leaks about the Countess’s troop mobilization against Northuldra, everything. Now everyone knows about our shadow war with Viola, against my expressed wishes.”

She hung her head. “Can you at least sit with me before you chew me out?”

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Her Girls Friday

Agrabah was burning.

The streets were silent with a choked fear as the allied soldiers of Prussia, Austro-Hungary, and France marched through the sandy Arabian streets, the soldiers thundering in disciplined lines as they made their way to the sultan’s palace – or at least, it used to be the royal family’s home, since they had fled a few days ago. The throne room was empty except for one lone figure, draped in a long general’s coat and an Arendellian army jacket, emblazoned with military honours bestowed by multiple countries.

She took a deep breath, savouring the smell of smoke and gunpowder in the distance.

“The age of flying carpets and magic lamps is over,” she mumbled to herself, yellow eyes glinting under a mop of greyed hair. Endless war takes a toll, even on those who exult in it. “I’d have liked to have seen it, though… met this handsome pauper-turned-prince and his starry-eyed love.”

The door to the throne room boomed open, and a uniformed messenger strode in, striding towards the figure.

“Commander Hilde? Lady Hilde Von Altheim?”

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