A.N. I just saw Frozen, and I was thinking about Hetalia for a long time after it was over. So, this was born.

There was a knock at the door, and Matthew jolted on his bed, the few flurries of snow he'd managed to conjure disappearing in the palm of his hand. "Who is it?" He called, closing his eyes and praying with all he had that it wasn't his little brother.

"It's just me." Matthew breathed a sigh of relief, pulling on his glove and jumping off the bed, hurrying to the door. He opened it a crack, though he regretted it when he caught sight of his mother's smiling face. There was no way he could retreat back to his bed now. "Are you ready?"

The young prince opened the door fully, and he saw his mother's eyes shift up a ways, glancing into the room beyond. Matthew cleared his throat and stepped further out into the hall, shutting the door behind him. There was never a time when his mother wasn't worrying about him, and he wasn't too enthusiastic to see her reaction if she noticed the icicles hanging from his ceiling. "I don't think this is a good idea."

"It's only for a few hours." His mother reassured him. "Your brother turned fourteen today. Your coming to dinner will mean so much to him."

Matthew felt a brief flash of regret, though he fought desperately to keep even that much down and away. Born with the powers of winter at his fingertips, Matthew froze nearly everything he touched. He could create cold winds and blizzards with little effort; sometimes, with no effort at all. As a result, he hid away, shutting himself off from his family.

He left his room as little as possible and checked the lock thirty times over in a day, sitting next to his window and watching the seasons roll by outside while his own personal winter was maintained year-round. The cold had little effect on him physically, but Matthew could feel it on the inside, always lurking beneath the surface of his skin.

When he was a child, Matthew used his power freely – though only in the presence of his parents and brother – without worrying about the consequences, didn't realize that the power he and his brother had ooed and awed over was deadly in its own way.

Matthew's mother always said that he was too warm and sociable a person to live his life behind closed doors. She spent many nights pleading with him from the outside, reassured him that despite the fact they'd had to close the gates, he didn't have to live as a prisoner inside his own home.

For a very long time, he didn't believe her; he still didn't. What he wanted out of life was of little importance when he couldn't even control his own power. No matter his intentions, Matthew was always going to hurt others, and that was something he couldn't take lightly, especially not after what had happened to Alfred.

"Will there be… people there?"

"Only a few of the servants, your father and I, and Alfred, of course." She said, reaching forward to place a reassuring hand on her eldest son's shoulder. Reacting on instinct, the young man flinched away, and the Queen backed off immediately, the skin around her sky-blue eyes crinkling as she forced a shaky smile to her face. "Come along, Matthew. Everyone is waiting on us."

Matthew nodded, walking alongside his mother but taking great care to leave a safe distance between them. The distance was killing him just as it was his family, for he remembered the happiness from before, when the gate was open and their palace wasn't akin to a prison meant to keep Matthew contained. Life was so simple then.

"So," his mother said eventually, the cheer in her voice almost too forced, "what did you do today?"

"I read a few books." Best not to mention that he accidentally froze one of them and ended up breaking off a few of the pages. "And I watched the ships arriving in the fjord."

They were right outside the dining hall, and the guards posted outside seemed surprised to find Matthew walking beside his mother, though they bowed to him no less and opened the doors for them to enter way before Matthew was ready.

Despite his best efforts, Matthew's gaze was drawn to Alfred first. His younger brother was sitting at the head of the table thanks to the occasion, swirling a finger around in his glass of water in a bored fashion, appearing about ready to fall asleep right then and there. Matthew almost smiled – at least Alfred hadn't changed much – but then he noticed the snow white tuft of hair on his sibling's head.

Alfred wasn't born with that cowlick despite their parents' claims that he had been, though the only ones who didn't know that were those outside the palace walls and Alfred himself. When they were young boys, Alfred barely seven years old, they were playing in a wonderland of snow and ice that Matthew had created in the ballroom when he accidentally struck his younger brother with his magic.

The accidental blow had turned that single piece of Alfred's hair white and sapped all heat and any signs of life from his body. Thanks to the magic of the trolls that resided in their kingdom, Alfred had lived through the night, though all memory of Matthew's powers had to be erased from his mind for the cure to work. Compared to what he could've lost that day, Matthew considered losing the closeness he and his brother once shared preferable to losing Alfred completely.

It was difficult, listening to Alfred knock on his door every day to ask if he wanted to come out and play, but it was all for the best. Matthew couldn't even look at his brother without thinking about that night, how he'd come so close to losing the one thing that he thought his powers couldn't touch.

Matthew took a deep breath and worried his gloved hands together nervously.

"Sheesh, Mom, what took you so – " Alfred jolted in his seat when he noticed their arrival, would've knocked over his glass if it weren't for their father's quick reflexes. "Oh, my God, Mattie!"

The young prince shared an amused glance with his mother before meeting his younger brother's astonished stare with a small smile. "Happy birthday, Al."

His brother was grinning from ear to ear, and while Matthew would've rather preferred to sit in the seat furthest from his brother's side, he couldn't bear the thought of disappointing Alfred anymore than he already had, especially on his birthday. It was because of Matthew that Alfred couldn't have a proper celebratory ball in the first place.

So, Matthew took the seat on Alfred's right, across from their father, while the Queen sat down beside her husband, flashing Matthew one last smile before devoting her attention to her youngest son. "Did we get you good, Al?"

"Did you ever!" Alfred exclaimed, still staring at Matthew, as if trying to make sure his brother didn't disappear again. "Best present by far. I can't believe you got the hermit to leave his cave."

"Very funny." Matthew said, absently reaching for his fork but thinking better of it at the last second, letting his hand fall uselessly back to his lap. It had been… what, nearly four or five years since he'd last eaten dinner with his family? Regrettably, he wasn't quite sure what to do with himself. From the looks on his parents' faces, they fully expected him to be able to control his power, but Matthew wasn't sure if he could. He'd been practicing since the accident, but even with his gloves on, sometimes whatever he was holding froze over if he was anxious enough. "I could always head back if you insist on being a brat."

Realizing at the last second how inappropriate and cruel such a statement had been, Matthew stared down at his plate while Alfred flailed to make amends. "No! I'm sorry, that's not what I – "

"Boys." Their father said, though all Matthew heard was his name and his name only. "Just relax and be kind to one another. I think we all want to enjoy this night."

Both boys nodded, and Matthew was saved from saying anything more by the servants entering the room with their dinners. Matthew observed the assortment of offered foods, none too surprised that everything mostly consisted of meat and various sweets. Alfred had never been one for anything green or even remotely healthy. "So, Al," Matthew said, probably shocking everyone at the table or otherwise, "how does it feel to be fourteen?"

"Pretty awesome." Alfred replied, eyes darting back and forth between the forks on either side of his plate before making a grab for the appropriate one. He'd actually grabbed the salad fork, though because of the occasion, no one said a word. "I mean, do I feel the same as I did yesterday? Yeah. But get this, Mattie. I got to go outside today! Like, not the courtyard, but the actual town."

"Really?" Matthew said, though he'd known that already, had seen his brother from his window earlier in the day. It took him a moment to recognize the figure dashing around the streets below, though when he did, a feeling of loneliness had overcome him. While his isolation was a conscious choice, there wasn't a thing Matthew wouldn't give to be able to run around freely with his brother again. "How was that?"

"It was amazing!" It was almost frightening how skilled Alfred was at speaking with a mouth stuffed with food. Matthew understood him almost perfectly. "I ran into a group of kids, and they didn't even know who I was until my guards caught up with me. Then they got all weird and stuff. Oh, and I saw a reindeer, but whoever it was that owned it started yelling at me from across the street, so I left before I got into any trouble."

"Sounds like you had an interesting afternoon." Everyone was already eating, but Matthew was too busy trying to focus on grabbing his fork without freezing the metal over. His father had taken notice and was watching him carefully, a look of encouragement on his face as he nodded slightly to his son. Matthew bit his lip. "It's a pity you can't go out more often."

"Tell me about it." Alfred griped, slipping into their old familiarity almost too easily. Matthew threw caution to the wind and grabbed his fork, surprised and delighted when nothing happened. "I wish you'd been there. Imagine the looks on those kids' faces if they'd met the future King of Arendelle! It would've been hysterical."

The concept may have been a little amusing, and while Matthew had always known that the citizens loved him just as much as they did Alfred and their parents, he often wondered what they would think if they knew about his power. "I just… like it better indoors." Matthew said, chewing a scalloped potato carefully as Alfred shot him an incredulous look.

"We used to play outside all the time!"

"Yeah, when we were kids." A seed of panic was blooming in Matthew's stomach, though he fought to keep it under control, and the fork in his hand remained unaffected. "Things change."

Alfred was quiet for a time, during which their parents struck up conversation with one another, discussing how their sons had been as boys and foreign trade policies, and Alfred took the opportunity to speak quietly to Matthew. "Why are you wearing those gloves? It's summer, not to mention hot as sin in here."

Feeling uncomfortable, Matthew took a drink of water, telling himself that he was just imaging the ice within the glass growing. "I always forget to take them off. Sometimes I can't even tell I'm wearing them."

"But I never see you without them now." Alfred countered, bold now that their parents weren't paying them much attention. "Not that I ever see you at all."

Matthew clutched at his fork. "Alfred – "

"Can't you just… come out for a little while? It's not as fun pulling pranks on the servants by myself."

"You shouldn't be doing it at all."

"When did you get to be such a stick in the mud?"

"I'm not, it's just – "

Matthew froze mid-sentence, eyes glued to the fork in his hand that had somehow turned to solid ice without his notice. Alfred was too oblivious to see, staring hard at his older brother, who tossed the fork under the table before abruptly standing up. Their parents turned to look at him, worry in their eyes as Matthew struggled to find words to say. "I'm afraid I must retire to my room now." He choked out before turning on his heel and fleeing from the dining hall, pushing past the hovering servants and guards without touching them at all.

This palace may have been his home, but Matthew didn't feel at peace anywhere that wasn't his own bedroom. There, he could freeze over whatever he pleased and no one would see or care; but out here, there was so much to harm, too many things to destroy, and even if Alfred hadn't noticed the fork, Matthew couldn't risk his brother finding out about his powers and possibly getting hurt again.

Or even worse, hating Matthew for the curse the sixteen-year-old had been born with.

Relief flooded Matthew's being as he approached his bedroom door, his frantic running slowing down, but he was forced to stop as something snagged his wrist, nearly tugging off his glove in the process. "Matthew, wait!" Alfred was panting, blue eyes wide and intense and pleading as Matthew struggled to free himself. "I didn't mean to make you mad. I just – I don't know what to say to you anymore. Just stop shutting me out, okay? That's all I want. And since it's my birthday, you should give that to me."

"Let go of me!" Matthew wrenched his arm from his brother's grasp, and he'd have half a mind to be shocked by his sibling's strength if he weren't so terrified. "There are things you just don't understand, things you can't change, but that doesn't mean you're not important to me, or that I don't care about you, Al."

"Then what's the deal?" Alfred cried, and Matthew could see his parents approaching from down the hall, quickening their strides when they notice the confrontation. Matthew backed up, inching toward his door. "I woke up one day and you were just gone. I mean, you were technically still around, but barely. You say you care about me, but you act so distant and cold whenever we're together."

"Shut up." Matthew snapped, because he thought about it a lot, his power overshadowing everything he was and had once been and turning him as cold as the magic he wielded, a person unable to feel even an ounce of affection for the brother he loved so desperately. "You don't know a damn thing, not about me or anything else!"

Alfred blinked in obvious shock, his mouth falling open as he stared at his brother, apparently at a loss for words. Matthew took the opportunity to slip into his room before their parents reached them, slamming the door shut and locking it with finesse only achieved with practice.

The temperature in the room dropped as Matthew stood with his forehead pressed to the door, breathing through clenched teeth in an attempt to control himself. "Conceal it." He whispered, clenching his fists against the rapidly cooling wood. His father always told him to repeat that when Matthew felt himself slipping, though as years wore on, the desired affect was hard to come by. "Don't feel it. Don't let him see."

Matthew had been right when he said his brother didn't know anything. Couldn't he tell that it physically pained Matthew to have to be so brisk with him, that their loss of friendship affected him just as badly, if not more so? Alfred couldn't remember how it had been, how much it meant to Matthew to see the wonder and awe in his brother's eyes whenever he used his magic. Alfred was the one who'd made him love his curse, but then turned around and made Matthew despise it.

Alfred didn't remember the night everything went wrong, so of course he couldn't possibly understand why Matthew didn't open the door when he knocked anymore.

"Alfred, sweetheart?" His mother's voice reached him then, and he could imagine his parents standing close to Alfred, who was most likely still standing frozen in place. "What's the matter?"

There was a brief silence, then Matthew heard a small sniffle. He backed away from the door, horrified. "Matthew hates me."

"Your brother doesn't hate you, Al."

"Your father is right. Matthew loves you very much. There are just some things that he has to work out on his own. He'll come around eventually."

"I must have done something. He can't even be in the same room as me for more than ten minutes." Alfred said, sounding so desperate and lost that Matthew started to feel sick. "What did I do wrong?"

Snow was falling from the ceiling when Matthew turned around, and while it wasn't nearly as violent as some of his previous creations had been, there was still something quietly chaotic about it, and Matthew had to suppress the urge to escape from the room and into the arms of his family; but he couldn't, not until he learned to overcome his own magic.

As things stood, Matthew feared that time would never come.

"You trusted me to control it, Al. That's all."