She waited, every day by the window, to see the ship bearing Arendelle's royal flags, for him.

She always did.

Finding some free time in the middle of her busy schedule as Queen, to just sit by the window of her bedchamber that gave her the view of the fjord, watching as sunlight reflected on the blue water.

Sometimes she could only stay for a short period of time. Whether because her Council demanded her presence or that Henrik wished to play with his aunt.

She loved her young nephew, loved to comb her fingers through his tuft of blonde hair, to show him her magic that always awed the toddler and made his eyes lit up in excitement, to kiss his face all over and hear his giggles.

Some other times though, she could wait for a long while. And when she was not so tired, she would knit.

She learned how from Gerda, pricked her fingers a lot at the beginning and gritted her teeth when the result was not what she expected, but now she found the activity to be soothing, distracted her mind from everything else.

She had made a pair of tiny baby socks, a small beanie, and now she was halfway through on knitting a baby sweater.

All of which she would put on her own child once it was born.

After she knew, from her own prediction and the confirmation from the doctor, her sister was the first person that she had told of the wonderful news, she had to be. Anna is her beloved sister after all.

Then it was her husband; the shocked look on his face, his loss of words, and his amazement when he dropped onto his knees and plant kisses all over her belly was a reaction she truly loved.

Soon the news spread like wildfire, amongst the staff and the townspeople, the heir to the throne of Arendelle has been conceived.

When he had to leave, she understood, no matter how much she wished for him to be by her side through their next step in life, she knew he had to. It was his duty as Admiral to go with the Navy should his presence is needed. And he was very much needed.

The tension between Arendelle and Weselton over her decision to cut all ties with them has rose back, requiring her and her Council to work on land over meetings and decision making while her husband stand guard in the sea after an attempt of terror directed to the Queen.

Her finger recoiled when she had accidentally pricked it again from being so deep in her mind.

Her eyes shifted from the half-done small sweater to the window as she pressed her stinging finger against her cold lips to soothe it; still there was no sign of any ship boarding.

But she waited.

Always.