I do not own Frozen, Rise of The Guardians, or any characters affiliated with the motion picture. I am not affiliated with Walt Disney Pictures or Dreamworks Animation.
"This thing of darkness I
Acknowledge mine."
― William Shakespeare, The Tempest
There was a haunting silence that lingered throughout the palace; only the faint sound of the winter storm outside gently rattling the windowpanes could be heard, accompanied by the occasional echo of frantic footsteps in the halls. This silence was not unusual, not when a child was being born. Silence all around, except in the room being occupied by the midwives and the mother-to-be. Everyone with wringing hands and bated breath, anticipating the news of the child's gender, or worriedly awaiting the fate of mother and child. It was unfortunately common that neither the mother nor child made it through the strenuous task of childbirth: all anyone could do was pray, hope, and wait.
The King of Arendelle waited outside the bedchamber that he and his wife shared; the room in which the Queen had chosen to give birth to their first child. He stood rigid right by the door, despite his page's suggestions that he sit and attempt to relax. Though all of the servants in the palace did their best to reassure their King that his Queen would survive the night, they all had small seeds of doubt planted in their hearts. Though the Queen was strong-willed, she was small and delicate: "not the birthing type", as per the scullery maids' whispers. Her ladies in waiting admired her greatly, but had found it difficult to watch her struggle through the demanding task of pregnancy. She had needed constant assistance these past nine months: getting out of her chair in the sitting room after reading a book, making her way down the palace steps to greet her subjects, and even standing for elongated periods of time. The Queen of Arendelle was so eager to tend to her kingdom and rule beside her husband that she often overworked herself, taking it upon herself to do tasks that were not hers to do. However, her kind heart and perseverance were not enough to reassure the palace staff that this birth would be a successful one for the queen. The air of worriment in the castle increased every second.
Shrill cries suddenly erupted from the Queen's bedchamber and rang throughout the halls. The king jumped at the sound and whirled around to face the door, willing it to open. Several servants rushed up from their quarters and peered from behind doorframes, hoping to hear news of the queen and new crown prince or princess. Time seemed to stand still as they waited outside for the midwife's announcement. But when no one immediately emerged from the room, the air grew thick with dread. As the moments continued to tick by, the king's blood seemed to run cold and his hands started to shake. The sound of the child's screams and the snowstorm outside attacking the windows fused together until all he could hear was static. He could not focus his vision or his thoughts and felt as though he could not stand to hear the news he was sure the midwife would deliver. Then, his senses came to immediate attention as the door slowly creaked open and the midwife stepped out into the hall. Her sleeves were rolled up above her elbows, soiled rags were hanging from her apron, and her graying hair was plastered to her forehead with sweat; but a smile graced her tired face. The exhausted nurse faced the king, who looked powerless as he awaited the words that would alter his entire future not only as a ruler, but also as a husband; and as a father.
"A princess," she said with a small, breathy chuckle.
"And the Queen is resting comfortably. She would like to see you now, your majesty,"
The king's face broke into an enormous smile, and a booming laugh of relief escaped him as he hurried into the room. Then, there was rejoicing. All tension and worry melted away in seconds, and so much relief filled the palace that it seemed as though the castle itself had heaved a happy sigh. Amidst all of the laughter, embraces, and joyful tears amongst the servants, no one stopped long enough to notice the odd rush of cold that swept through the room. No one noticed the thin layer of frost that covered the marble, running all the way from behind the very place where the king had been standing and into the bedchamber. It was gone as quickly as it had appeared, so there was no possible way anyone could know that the king was not the only one to enter the room where infant princess lay sleeping.
Thank you so much for taking the time to read this first chapter. This is merely testing the waters; more will come as soon as possible. Please review! Feedback is always appreciated.
-Amanda