This one was going to be bad, Elsa knew. The skies beyond the entrance to the fjord were clear and blue - even with her telescope, she could see none of the high, wispy clouds that signified impending storms - but she could feel that tiny stirring inside her. Like something had poked her slumbering magic and it had opened an eye to take a look around.

She swallowed the cold lump of dread in her throat. Frost crusted at her fingertips, despite the gloves. If the storm outside was calling to her magic already, with not a single visible sign of its arrival, would she be strong enough to keep the storm inside her contained?

She turned away from the window, her arms automatically wrapping around her her middle. Breathe . She paced her bedroom, eyes closed, counting her steps. One, two, three, four, five.. .

She didn't need her vision to know when to spin on her heel and change direction. It wasn't like the room ever changed size.

...thirteen, fourteen, fifteen . Pivot. One, two, three… Back and forth, back and forth, the measured cadence of her shoes against the wood floor soothing her tumultuous magic, the counting giving her something to focus on besides the ever-present fear.

Conceal, don't feel. Control it.

But the unseen storm continued to tug at her magic, calling, beckoning. By the time the first clouds made their appearance over the fjord, her powers were fully awake and seeking release.

Conceal it.

Conceal it.

Frost bloomed from every footfall, and her rhythmic chanting slowly gave way to her rising panic. Elsa squeezed herself tighter, as if she could physically restrain the storm brewing inside her.

A low rumble of thunder reached her ears, and she let out a little cry as her magic responded, coursing beneath her skin. She curled her body inward, wrestling to keep it in check, the effort nearly driving her to knees. But still the frost escaped.

Don't feel.

Don't feel.

She watched in dismay as the ice spread toward the window. It climbed the glass, tendrils stretching out like arms to embrace the approaching storm. The skies outside were dark now, the setting sun obscured by towering thunderheads.

A brilliant flash of blueish-white lit her bedroom. Seconds later, a deafening thunderclap shook the room, rattling the window glass and sending the bottles on her washstand dancing dangerously toward the edge. Elsa jumped as the window flew open with a bang. A powerful gust blew rain inside, where it froze in the rapidly dropping temperature.

Elsa rushed to the window. She meant to close it, but instead stared in wonder at the chaos outside. Turbulent whitecaps roiled the slate-gray fjord, the swells crashing against the ramparts to coat the walls in phosphorescent spray. Blue-white lightning lanced from the sky to strike the water's surface. The air sizzled with the scent of ozone, and Elsa felt her every hair stand on end.

She found herself stepping up onto the wide windowsill. The rain soaked her clothes and the wind yanked her hair from its bun, sending it whipping around her head. The storm's power was like a siren call and her magic surged in response, demanding its freedom.

For one intoxicating moment, Elsa wanted nothing more than to grant that freedom.

What would it be like to just let it go?

She threw her head back and laughed, caught up in the wild thrill of the maelstrom around her.

A telltale crackle brought her back to her senses. Panic replaced her exhilaration as ice escaped from her gloves to coat the window and the wall outside. She jumped back into her room and slammed the window shut. Her magic roared in protest and Elsa doubled over as she struggled to keep it at bay.

She managed to make it to the corner of her room, where she curled up into a ball on the floor. How could I be so stupid? What would happen to the kingdom if I'd given in? What would happen to Anna?

Oh Papa, how could you think I'd be fine? One storm and I almost ruined everything!

She curled up tighter and gritted her teeth against the pain as the storm raged on, both outside and inside, comforted only by the thought that Papa would be home soon.


Bang bang bang! Bang bang bang!

Elsa groaned and rolled over, cracking one eye open. Bright sunlight poured in through her window, a stark contrast to the dark storm from earlier. Her whole body ached, and her head felt like it was stuffed with cottonwool. How long had she been asleep?

She looked around. Her books and papers had been straightened up, and two newspapers lay on her small side table.

Two days? I've been asleep for two days?

Her stomach growled, and she felt her face heat up. It wasn't unusual for her to sleep for eighteen, sometimes twenty-four hours after wrestling with a storm, but two days? Gerda had obviously been coming and going - her wet clothes, which she had stripped off and left in the floor before collapsing into bed, were missing, and a fresh outfit hung from her valet.

Bang bang bang!

"Hold your horses," she mumbled under her breath. Every muscle protested as she stumbled out of bed and grabbed a dressing gown from her wardrobe. At least it wasn't Anna's distinctive tap-tap-ta-tap-tap.

Although Elsa was surprised that her sister hadn't tried to break down her door while their parents were gone.

Bang bang bang! "Your Majesty!" Kai's voice was only partially muffled by the door. "Your Majesty!"

What is wrong with him? Elsa wondered as she tied her dressing gown. Papa is Your Majesty, not me.

She cracked the door. "Kai, what in the world - ?" She broke off when she saw the chamberlain's ashen face. "Kai, what's wrong?"

Kai opened and closed his mouth a few times, but no sound came out. Prickles of dread began to creep up Elsa's spine. She glanced over Kai's shoulder to see Gerda standing in the middle of the hall, her eyes brimming with tears.

"I...there's been.." Kai held out his hand. A message dispatch was clutched in it. "Your Majesty…"

"I'm not Your Maj - " There was a muffled sob from Gerda, and the world tilted under Elsa's feet. "No…"

"Your Majesty…" Kai held out the dispatch again.

"No!" Elsa cried. "No, no, no!"

She slammed the door and raced to the far corner of the room. But this time, no matter how hard she tried, the storm could not be kept inside.


A/N: Sorry not sorry