Wake:

noun

A watching, or a watch kept, especially for some solemn or ceremonial purpose

verb

To hold a vigil beside someone who has died

Kai's footsteps were muffled in the carpeted hallways, but in the empty, sleeping castle, they still seemed to echo. Each footstep was heavy with grief. He paused as he passed a large portrait, shrouded in black curtains. Looking over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching, he lifted the fabric ever so slightly away.

There was the King, as strong and noble as he was in life. On his arm, the lovely Queen stood. Often called the King's gentler half, she was smiling serenely. Forever. The picture's eyes did not hold the same light the real Queen's had. A painting, even one as masterfully done as this one, could never replace the living and loving human lives that had been destroyed.

What wonderful treasures Arendelle has lost.

He dropped the curtain and left the portrait to rest in peace. He climbed the stairs slowly, feeling his own living heart beating in his chest.

If I could have taken their place, I would have, in one beating of my treacherous heart.

The rain was still coming down gently. Kai could see and hear it tapping on the window as he reached the second floor. It was then that he noticed a shape lying on the ground, in front of Princess Elsa's door. Puzzled, he walked towards it softly.

Princess Anna.

She was still in her funeral black and was fast asleep. By the pale light of the moon he could see tear tracks on her cheeks.

Poor child. Why is she not in bed?

Crouching down and finding strength he did not know he had, he picked up Anna, cradling her like a child. He carried her down the hall and into her bedroom, placing her into bed between the covers. He walked to the door and was about to slip out when he hesitated. Then slowly, gently, he walked back to her and kissed her on the forehead. He stepped out into the hall and closed the door, sighing as he did.

This is wrong. This is all wrong. His footsteps seemed to beat out the pattern of his thoughts as he trudged back to Elsa's room.

He gently pushed the door open a crack and felt a cold breeze play across his face. Slipping inside the room he caught his breath. He could not help it. The entire room was covered in ice. Snowflakes fell gently as he stared down at the princess who, like her sister, was sleeping, tears frozen to her face.

This is wrong. They should not be separated like this.

He likewise picked up the eldest princess and placed her in bed. As he did so, she stirred slightly.

"Papa?" she murmured dazedly, trying to see him clearly.

A cry of despair stuck in his throat.

"No, your majesty," he corrected softly, "It's just me."

"Kai," Elsa breathed, nodding sleepily. "Kai, I can't control it. I can't control it this time. Why can't I control it Kai?"

He looked at the snowy doorway.

Don't try child. Don't try.

"I don't know, your majesty."

She needs Anna. Anna needs her. This deception is taking its toll on everyone. Maybe the time has come for it to end.

As if she could read his mind, Elsa grabbed his arm before he could turn away. "Anna can't know. I'd hurt her. She can't know."

She rolled over and muttered sleepily through a yawn, "Papa says she can't know."

Suddenly she sat back up. She looked at him with tired eyes. Sad eyes. They were like the eyes of a wounded animal, desperate and dying and in pain.

"Promise me you won't tell her?" she pleaded.

He felt the answer rising, unbidden, in his throat. This is wrong! screamed his mind, but there was no stopping the vow from escaping his lips.

"I promise, your highness."

Elsa, satisfied, lay her head back on her pillow and was instantly asleep.

Kai stepped back into the hall. He allowed himself one last glance at her sleeping form, sadness welling up inside him, before he closed the door once more on the princess.