Disclaimer: I do not own Frozen or its related characters. Such is the property of Walt Disney Animation Studios, Walt Disney Pictures, Jennifer Lee, John Lasseter, and, of course, Hans Christian Anderson. I'm just borrowing it for some non-profit entertainment.

(A/N: This is not a story. This is a collection of pieces of stories that I've had ideas for but have no desire to pursue. If you have any desire to adopt or continue these ideas, please feel free to. All that I ask is that you mention where you got the inspiration from in an author's note. Have fun and enjoy!)

Fractal Fragments

The Unwanted Grandson

Normal prisoners' hands were bound with wood or rope. But his were shackled in iron. The metal was on against his skin, turning red from the head radiating off him, but it did not burn like wood or rope. He stood on the edge of the cliff, overhanging the harbor, and looked at those gathered for his 'trial'. His eyes scared over the judge in his cumbersome black robes, and the witnesses whom gathered to witness his sentence. Instead his eyes focused on one man.

The Duke.

"Please…" He whispered. Eyes focused on the old man's, unblinking, unwavering. "Please, grandfather, don't do this."

The crowd shifted. All eyes turning from the convict to the Duke of Wesleton, waiting to hear the old man's reply.

The Duke's mustache came down in a harsh frown, his eyes narrowing with contempt. He was never very fond of his grandson's… abilities. The old man always viewed them to be unnatural. But it wasn't until his trip to Arendelle and his experience with the Frozen Summer and the Snow Queen that convinced him that magic was evil and all magical persons were monsters. The Duke's eyes held no sympathy or remorse when he said, "How my daughter could have ever birthed a creature like you, I'll never understand. You are no grandson of mine!"

Clearing his throat, the judge drew everyone's attention back to himself. He unfurled a paper and read. "Lord Brandhiem, you have been found guilty of the crime of witchcraft and will be sentenced to death by drowning. Have you any final words to say in your defense?"

Brandhiem's eyes darted to the judge briefly before returning to the Duke. "Grandfather, please! I did nothing wrong! I just have magic. That's all! I haven't done anything!"

The Duke wasn't listening. He just shook his head, turning, and walked away.

With nothing left to be said and nothing left to hear the judge rolled back up his paper and nodded to the guards. Flames leapt up around Brandhiem, licking at the soldiers with tongues of fire. They couldn't approach him bare handed, so they prided at him with iron-toped speeds, forcing the man back until he fell over the cliff and crashed into the water below. The harbor bubbled and steamed. It remind like that for hours until the tide rolled out, taking the fire witch with it.

…

In the months following the Frozen Summer, Elsa and Anna both spent a great deal of time earning back the people's trust. Hosting ice scatting in the courtyard during the summer helped great. But as the summer drew to its natural close people became nervous once more. As winter drew nearer people began to wonder how it would affect their new Queen or how the Queen would affect it. But now they were into early January, a new year had started and, thus far, it was one of the gentlest winters Arendelle had ever seen.

The snows fell in gentle flurries, blanketing the town and fjords in soft layers of fluffy powder. The harbor froze over, but not with the irons-hard and impenetrable sheets that trapped the ships of the visiting dignitaries over the summer, or expanded and burst as in the final moments before the Great Thaw. Instead, Arendelle was the picture of the perfect magical winter wonderland.

With a few accept ions of course. Nature was still nature. Magic could not be expected to do everything for everyone. As the winter chill froze the harbor water each night, the ice had to be cut each morning, the ships freed from their moorings.

Waking early each morning, before dawn, and making his way down to the water, Sven pulling a sled piled with tools. Kristoff couldn't help but smile. Elsa's magic might have made the winters gentler, but there was still ice. He was still in business. And business was good. He and the other ice workers met on the docks. They exchanged pleasant greetings, rubbing their gloves together to work some heat into their hands or sharpening saws and oiling clamps.

"That spot looks a bit thin." One said, pointing to a spot where instead of the matte white of solid ice, it looked darker, almost clear and the ocean wake could be seen gurgling beneath the surface.

"Then we'll avoid it and let the water take care of it once we get most of the big stuff out of the way." Kristoff shrugged.

The others nodded. "Alright lads! Lets get started!"

Beginning with saws the men hopped off the docks and onto the solid sheet. Each picked a spot. Pierced the sheet with the saws and began carving up the ice. Singing a working song as they went. All the while watching their foot and keeping an eye out for thin ice. Nothing ruined a morning worse than having to rush one of your friends home to keep him from freezing to death.

"Is it just me," another ice worker leaned over to Kristoff, "or is the thin spot moving?"

Kristoff looked over to the dark spot in the ice. He was right. It had moved. Where once it was just inside the inlet, now the think ice looked to have moved farther in towards the harbor. Leaving a trail of thin, dark ice to show a record of its movement. Kristoff tilted his head to the side, studying it. That wasn't normal. -Not that much of Arendelle could be considered 'normal' nowadays.- But this wasn't what Kristoff had come to recognize as Arendelle's particular brand of 'normal'. He handed his saw off to someone else.

"I'll be right back…" And crossed the harbor to the thinner ice.

Taking each step slowly. Testing the ice before placing his eight on it. Kristoff got as close to the thin ice as he dared. At a better vantage point now it looked like whatever it was, was being pushed in by the tide. The question was, what was it? Whatever it was, it was melting the ice from the underneath. He took another step closer, trying to see what it was.

…And fell through the ice.

The next thing Kristoff knew, he was freezing cold. Under water. Unable to breath. And he wasn't alone. Blinking his eyes, Kristoff found that he was looking right at another man, unconscious, likely dead, trapped under the ice, his hand and feet bound in chains. He screamed. But all that came out were bubbles. Hi kicked his feet and beat with his arms, trying desperately to reach the surface again.

Hands were punted into the water after him. Hauling him out and -not back onto the ice, it would not support their weight- but onto a small skiff. The dry air was colder than the water he was just rescued from. Someone started helping him to pull off his wet cloths and draped a dry blanket over him.

"And you were the one who said to keep clear of the thin spot." One of his fellows laughed. "Shall we be taking you home then? Or to the palace and your lovely little Princess?"

Kristoff ignored the remark. They had to know. Speaking through his shivers, he said, "T-there's s-s-someone els-se down th-there."

The other men exchanged confused looks.

"Get him up to the palace." One of them ordered. "His Princess will want to fuss over him. You two, lets take a look."

Two other men in a second skiff began seating the water with blunted hooks and nets. The last thing Kristoff heard before he blacked out was someone exclaim, "My god! He's still warm!"

'Of course he was warm.' Kristoff thought. 'He's what was melting the ice.'

…

Elsa watched the royal physician do a thorough examination of the man they pulled from the ice. Not only was it amazing that he was still alive, but the ice workers said he was still warm when they pulled him out. No one knew who he was or where he came from. Certainly no one in town recognized him. Perhaps he came from an outlying farm? Or one of the more isolated settlements in the mountains? Higher in the pass, part Oken's Trading Post.

The physician cleaned the abrasions left behind by his shackles. Was he a criminal? But where would he have come from. The only jail near by was Elsa's own dungeons under her palace. But she knew he couldn't have come from there. So where else then? And why was he bound in chains? Was he a criminal? Was he dangerous?

Standing, the physician cleared his throat. "Its the most amazing thing. He was warm when they brought him out of the ice, but his temperature has risen so much so quickly. I've never seen anything like it!"

On the other side of the bed, a maid was dabbing his forehead with a moist towel. "I can't bring his fever down."

"With a fever this high, I'm surprised he's not dead." The physician shook his head. "It was wise of the ice workers to bring him here, Your Majesty. Between being trapped under the ice for who knows how long, and now this burning fever… he should be dead twice over, but he lives. Its obvious that there's some sort of magic at work here. Perhaps you will have better luck than I."

Elsa placed a hand on her hip, studying the mysterious man. His curls of red-gold hair that was soaking wet when they brought him in was dry now, showing just how vibrant its shine was, coppery red and bright gold, each ringlet like a tongue of flame against the white pillow. His brows knit together in an apparent nightmare. His lips turned down in a sever frown. Elsa decided he might have been handsome if he weren't so troubled. She placed a hand on his forehead.

By the gods! He was hot! Burning, in fact. It hurt her hand. Elsa bit the inside of her cheek and formed a thin crusting of frost over her hand to insulate herself from his burning temperature. The physician was right, with a fever like this, he should be dead.

To her surprise, the frost covering her hand melted in an instant, turning back to water, then to steam, before disappearing all together.

Elsa leapt back. He was so warm he melted her ice! He was still warm when they pulled him from the ice. He had a fever so high he should be dead, but he wasn't. And he melted her ice! He melted her ice! Aside from a heart full of true love -something she was quite side she did not feel for this mysterious but random stranger- the only thing she could imagine that could do that would be other magic! This man must have magic, like she had magic! Only not ice. He was so hot… fire magic!

The man groaned. "Grandfather… please…"

The Queen and the physician exchanged a look. He was waking up. Maybe he could tell them where he came from. The maid redoubled her efforts to bring down her fever.

The man's eyelids fluttered, his eyes parting slightly. He sighed at recognizing a soft bed and gentle lighting. Then, sensing other people in the room with him, he opened his eyes more. Suddenly realizing he was in an unfamiliar room with unfamiliar people, he awoke fully with a start. "Who are you!? Where am I!? Am I dead?"

"Easy now." The physician soothed in his best bed-side-manner voice. "You're safe, son. You're not dead. But you are very sick. We have to bring your fever down."

"Fever…?" He stared at the other man for a moment as if he didn't understand. "I don't get fevers… I'm just… warm."

The physician looked like he was about to say more, but there were two things Elsa had to know before they went any further. She was Queen and as such had a responsibility to protect her people. "When you were pulled out of the harbor, you were wearing shackles." She said. "Are you dangerous?"

There was a beat of silence.

Then, he turned from her and looked at his hands, studying the abrasions left by his bindings. They must have removed them when they found them. That was nice of them. They were nice, but they weren't stupid. People were usually chained from reasons and they were right to ask if he was dangerous.

"Yes." He finally answered, not looking at the Queen.

"Because you have magic?" Elsa pressed.

He looked up at her, surprised. Almost panicked. "I'm not a monster." He promised, almost pleaded. "I don't want to hurt anyone. If you let me go, I won't hurt anyone. But if you keep me here bad things will happen."

So, he was chained because he had magic and had trouble controlling it. Like she was locked up in her own dungeons because she couldn't control her own powers and froze the summer. Elsa instantly sympathized with him. She stepped closer to the bed, no longer afraid of him. Summoning her magic, she erected a sculpture of ice next to the bed. "I don't fear your magic. And maybe I can help you control it. Though, I admit, I'm still learning myself."

He stared at her, mesmerized. Comprehension finally dawning. "You have ice magic. You're Arendelle's Snow Queen!"

"I am." Nodded Elsa. "Who are you?"

"I am-" He cut himself off. He didn't want to give the name Brandhiem. As his grandfather said, he was no longer the Duke's grandson. He was not Lord Brandhiem of Wesleton. And after the betrayal he just suffered, he didn't want to be anymore either. But she was a Queen, and she asked him a question, and she expected an answer. "Brand. Just Brand."

…

(A/N: That's if for this Fractal Fragment. I had thoughts of Brand either going back to Wesleton and attempting to take revenge on the Duke fro condemning him, but having Elsa stop him. But I don't really have the energy to write it. I'm already working to to many stories at the moment and just don't have the time. Maybe another writer will like this idea and take it up. You all have my permission to. Just mention where you got the idea in an author's note. Thank you and good night!)