The night before Christmas is a time to snuggle in front of a roaring fire with my little sister for the first time in thirteen years. We share cookies and hot chocolate, staying up to see Christmas Day arrive at midnight—if we do not fall asleep before then, of course. Anna chatters away, animated and bubbly as we converse the quiet Eve of Christmas away. The clock chimes the hour, adding one more peal each time, but we do not pay it heed, even when it strikes eleven at night. Anna begins to yawn, loud and dramatic, as she leans heavily against me. She is all knees and elbows as she curls up under our large blanket on the couch, resting her head on my shoulder, eyeing the presents on the table. Closing her eyes, she snuggles up as close as she can to my side, the smallest sigh of contentment passing her smiling lips.

I lean my own head on my sister's, closing my eyes as her silken hair touches my cheek. I rearrange my arms under the blankets, wrapping one around her shoulders and the other around her middle. The night is silent except for the ticking of a clock behind us, and the whisper of the fjord in the distance. Even the birds have closed their eyes to slumber till Christmas morning. Red and orange from the fireplace's radiance dance on the backs of my eyelids, a visual lullaby that lulls me into drowsiness. I feel Anna's breathing slowing, easing into a regular rhythm as she dozes off.

The clock chimes, startling me awake, opening my eyes to see that the stars and moon have shifted places in the sky. It chimes six times—I must have fallen asleep too. So much for staying up to see Christmas arrive at midnight. The fire has long died down, but even now, I see a sliver of light ribbon over the floor, over us, and the table, as someone tip-toes inside—our maid, Gerda. She glances over long enough as she passes us to see that I am awake.

"Good morning, Your Majesty," she whispers, "Merry Christmas. Good sleep?"

"Absolutely blissful, thank you, Gerda," I beam, planting a tender kiss on top of Anna's head, "Merry Christmas to you too."

"I'll light the fire—don't worry, I'll be as quiet as possible."

"Don't worry about that," I assure, "Anna sleeps like a log. We can bring a brass band in here and she'll never wake up."

I jerk as a finger pokes me hard in the ribs under the blankets.

"I heard that," Anna mumbles.

"Oh, look who's awake," I tease, "Merry Christmas to you too." I frown a little, concerned, "You're not too cold are you?"

"No," she mumbles , eyes still closed even as she shifts her head as though to look up at me, "Not like this I'm not."

"You sure?"

"You're warm for an ice queen," but there's the smallest twitch of a smile, so I know she's just teasing.

"Aren't you going to wish me a Merry Christmas too?" I whisper, a hint of mischief in my tone. "I already wished you a Merry Christmas."

"Hm?" Her eyes open, at first sleepy, and then suddenly all the way, wide open with clear excitement. "It's Christmas already? Midnight!"

"It's actually six in the morning," I correct her, nodding at Gerda, "See? The fire had died out while we slept."

"Oh, so we fell asleep then?"

"Well, it's Christmas now either way."

For someone who normally struggles to get up in the morning, Anna became wide awake pretty quick. With a grin, she untangled the blanket from around her legs, and headed for the Christmas presents on the table. She leans close, picking them up, attempting to read the tags on the presents. Gerda takes pity on her and walks over to place the lantern on the table. With a grateful thanks, Anna now studies the tags in the light of the lantern. When she has found what she was looking for, she bounds back to the couch, tucking her legs up, pulling the blanket back over her, passing a present to my own lap. Leaning over, she gives me a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Merry Christmas, Elsa," she sing-songs, grinning at me, "Now it's presents time!"

"You want to open yours first?" I ask.

"You're the queen—you should open first."

"No, you first—you deserve to."

She shakes her head, defiant, good-natured. "No, you."

Gerda stops what she is doing with the fireplace and turns to face us with amusement.

"How about at the same time?" she suggests.

"Actually, great idea!" Anna approves, before adding, "Merry Christmas, Gerda."

"And the same for you too, Anna," Gerda gives the fireplace one last look-over, and appears to be satisfied by her handiwork. "I'll bring up some more hot chocolate for you two, shall I?"

"That would be wonderful!"

"Same," I agree with Anna.

Taking the lantern with her, Gerda departs, leaving us in the young glow of the reignited fireplace. Outside, birds are starting to call to each other as the sky begins to awake with the coming sunshine.

"So," Anna draws out the word, "Presents! Open on the count of three, shall we?"

I laugh, soft and happy, "On the count of three."

"One…"

"Two…"

"THREE!"

She tears her present open, while I carefully unwrap mine, wondering what Anna could possibly have gotten for me. It feels like a book, judging by its shape and feel under the wrappings—and I am right. I let the wrapping fall away as I run my fingers over the title's gold lettering. One of my favourite books, and Anna got it just for me.

"Thank you, Anna," I murmur, holding the book to my heart.

If she has heard me, I do not see it, for all she has eyes for is her own present. It is a globe made out of ice, and inside is a perfect replica of my own ice palace. She shakes it, tentative, and the snow blizzards around the miniature palace, swirling and spiralling around the inside of the globe.

"It's…beautiful," Anna breathes, words nothing more than a hush, "Did you…"

"Yes, I did. And you needn't worry about breaking it. And you're very welcome."

She stares at me for what feels like a minute, before carefully getting up and placing into on the table, walking back to throw her arms around my neck in a tight hug. Her cheek feels oddly damp against mine.

"Thank you," she murmurs into my ear, "Thank you for the magic…"

"You're very welcome," I give her a little squeeze in kind, "You okay?"

She pulls back, now sitting down next to me, taking one of my hands in hers. Even in the low firelight, I see her eyes are brighter, mistier than usual.

"It's just…I don't know—I mean this is the first time and…I guess I just…"

"You're very happy?"

"Yeah, that," she confirms, and quickly brings up a hand to wipe at one of her eyes, "This is the first time in forever that we're celebrating Christmas together after all." A pause, a squeeze of my hand, tight, loving. "I'm glad we're doing this again, Elsa. I love you, sis."

I squeeze her hands in response, and my eyes are curiously mistier than usual.

"I love you too, Anna," I respond, "And today's going to be the best Christmas in a long time—for both of us."

"I only wish our parents…could still be with us."

I let go with a hand to tuck a wayward strand of Anna's hair behind her ear. "Wherever they are now, Anna, I'm sure they're smiling with joy, and wishing us a Merry Christmas too."

Gerda returns after a few minutes with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate, which she passes to us with a genuine happiness that beams from her face.

"I usually frown on eating breakfast in the library, but I think I will make a pass for today," she tells us, "It is your first Christmas together after all. If you don't mind, Your Majesty."

"Christmas in the library sounds wonderful!" I praise, "I know Anna will love it. Won't you?"

Anna is nodding with great enthusiasm, in danger of spilling her hot chocolate on the blanket.

"And make it a big breakfast, Gerda!" Anna requests.

Gerda chuckles, "I promise, Anna. Be back in a bit."

For a second time, she departs, and once again we are alone with the brightening sky and the glow of warm firelight. Anna nudges me with an elbow.

"Let's make a toast," she suggests, raising her own mug in a suggestion of such, "To us, and in memory of mama and papa."

I nod, raising my mug to meet hers in a soft clink. Together, we lift them up—not too high, lest they spill—heavenwards.

"Merry Christmas, mama and papa," we whisper together.

We sit in silence for another minute or so, just being there, together, content even to sit in silence. I know full well how silence can speak volumes more than constant chatter. Silence had a language, silent, yet clear, of its own.

Anna clears her throat, raising her mug to mine. "I wish to toast in honour of my beautiful big sister, the magnificent Queen Elsa."

I laugh, a little self-conscious. "That's rather high praise."

"And you deserve it," she insists, "Toast."

She clinks her mug with mine, and again, a smile lilts on my lips.

"Now your turn," Anna declares.

I raise my hot chocolate, as she did in her toast. "I wish to toast in honour of the most precious, sweetest, and most beautiful princess in all of Arendelle. I never have, and never will, stop loving her for who she is—my little sister, Anna."

Now it is her turn to look a little self-conscious but she takes it in her stride, clinking her cup just as happily as before when she had toasted to me.

"Happy Christmas, Elsa."

"And a Happy Christmas, Anna, and may today be the start of many wonderful Christmases to come."

"I'll toast to that!"

We do.

I promise, Anna, I think, I promise there will be many more wonderful Christmases to come, that will make up for the last thirteen years.

The best Christmas in thirteen years, and the sun has only just burst into being, spilling its great majesty over the glass-like fjord. The surrounding cliffs bask in the mid-winter morning light, distant yet no less majestic. Somewhere, up in the mountains, my ice palace would be glowing with magnificence in the Christmas sunrise touching the beautiful face of my country and its people. Somewhere, right now, there was sure to be little children waking up mothers, fathers, sisters, and brothers, excited for Christmas Day. I could only hope that they would have a Christmas bursting with love, joy, and hope, just as much as it did here in the castle.

Merry Christmas, Arendelle.