A smiling queen and a beautiful husband sit together, holding their newest born son. The queen, a woman with long brown hair and beautiful blue eyes, looked to her son with a wear smile and tears flowing down her cheeks. Her newest born son, Peter, would be her last. His golden hair and shining blue eyes would be the last thing the sickly queen would witness as she died not three days after the little miricle prince entered the world. The queen left behind her loved husband, a man with bright red, ginger hair and vibrant green eyes. The kind king mourned many years over his queen, to the point where he went into a sort of hibernation.
The king and the queen's sons and daughters are all beautiful, all of them being kind hearted and well-behaved, to the king's standards, and he knows his lovely wife would be proud. Their eldest, Scott, is the new king of the Northern Kingdom. One middle child, their only girl, Isabelle, is the queen of the Western Isles. Their third child, however, is much younger than the rest, along with Peter. Their third child is named Arthur, furture king of Arendelle.
Arthur and Peter were especially close growing up. On Arthur's twelveth birthday, both Scott and Isabelle were both already ruling over their kingdoms and could rarely visit. The king was also still silent a majority of the time, but that detered them none. Both parties were equally astonished by a certain 'power' Arthur gained. Peter had no idea of how this power was granted to his brother, but the king remembers distinctly, so clear he relives it every night.
"Daddy! Mummy!" The small boy yelled back to his parents as he ran through the wheat fields in the Northern Kingdom that his brother was soon to rule. Arthur is only five, his brother twelve. The queen, heavily pregnant with her last child, walked wobbily and had to have the king's help to follow her dearest, cute son. "Quick, or they'll go away!" The boy yelled, giggling as he ran through the first bit of the forest. The queen, whose legs couldn't move anymore, let her husband go on ahead of her. The kind called for his eldeast son, Scott, to help his mother back to the castle. The queen protested, the twelve year old prince confused and entertainded by his mother's sturdy attitude, but she was soon hauled off by Scott.
Arthur hadn't stopped at all, and by the time the king caught up with his little boy, Arthur was already tapping his foot in front of a rock, which seemed to glow under the cape Arthur had thrown over it. Arthur looked behind his father, excpecting his mother to be behind him, but she wasn't going to be joining them.
"Ah, mommy had to go back to the castle. Her legs couldn't do anymore walking." The king smiled down to Arthur, rustleing his hair. Arthur nodded, but he still seemed dissapointed. Turning to the rock again, he yanked off the heavy cape, revealing something as mistifying as it was terrifying. The king took a step back, watching Arthur slip on the dark green hood that he so loved to wear around.
"See, daddy! It's it pretty?" Arthur looked to his father, his hand rubbing the rock. The rock, glowing a bright blue, was not a normal rock, or even a gem. It looks like a charmed, or more so cursed, object. As Arthur robbed hus hands on the surface, bright blue crystals in the rock followed the heat of his hand, leaving streaks of light behind in it's path. "My friends showed it to me. They like to see me a lot, and when I come here they're always happy to play." Arthur smiled, leaning into the rock more, both of his hands now rubbing circles into the smooth surface.
"Arthur, please don't do that. That rock may be dangerous, you could get hurt." The king pleaded his son, watching as the boy gained a confused look. The confusion soon turned to glee, and he smiled to the rock under his palms. Arthur leaned closer to the rock, pressing his cheek to it. The king's usually calm demeanor jerked away from him, he nearly yelled at his son.
"Daddy, I've done this before-" the boy was smiling before he was cut off by a loud bout of thunder. he king looked to the sky, seeing storm clouds swirling above their heads. The king shook, Arthur trying to jerk himself away from the rock, but his cheek and hands wouldn't budge. Arthur began crying, a constant flow of apologies leaking from his mouth as his father desperately tired to pull him from the cursed rock.
The glow of the rock turned from the calm blue to a dark purple in seconds, the storm above twirling down to that it appeared to be sucked into the rock. Arthur's pleas for help only grew louder as Arthur's older brother ran out, his sister right behind him, their eyes wide and mouths agape. The king cried as he watched his son scream, holding his other children back as Arthur spasmed against the rock. The purple slowly seaped from the rock to under Arthur's skin, his body now limp against the rock, silent tears flowing down his face as he clentched his teeth.
The storm was soon completely absorbed through the rock, flowing into Arthur's body. His skin glowed purple as the rock cracked, splitting in the middle. Arthur felt a large volt of energy through his body, and soon he was flung back agaist the nearest tree. His body fell limp on the ground, Arthur himself unconsious. In the distance, unknown to all parties that were helping Arthur, a baby boy was being born by the Queen, soon to be named Peter.
Over the years, Arthur found his power. Arthur was never afraid of himself, of his beautiful snow that lifted tha spirits of his little brother, who had never seen his mom and never really left the castle. Arthur loves to make snow for anyone who asks, but he isn't allowed to do it for anyone outside of his family. Arthur, being a good boy and a loyal son, never broke that rule.
One night, Peter and Arthur both were playing in the large ballroom that was always oddly empty. Arthur was making them skate around, his brother laughing as he was whisked around by his amazing older brother. the two of them had made this a nightly occurace, knowing that Arthur's magic never left any mess behind unless thay knock something over.
Peter watched as Arthur's beautiful magic whisked around the room, nearly sqeualing with joy as Arthur played with him. Making it snow as they whisked around, Arhur felt the pressure on his chest lighten as his magic was released. Peter's childish laugh making him smile every time, he couldn't stop playing with him.
"Higher, higher!" Peter yelled, jumping from a small pillar of snow to the next. Arthur made them as he went, his feet carrying him higher as he jumped up, knowing falsely that his brother will catch him. The pillars of snow got taller as Arthur watched his brother go higher, his panic rising. Peter's playful giggle filled the room, echoing off the walls. Arthur's hands began shaking as Peter was close to fifteen foot in the air. "Catch me!" Peter giggled, jumping again as Arthur nearly slipped on the ice he had coated the floor with.
"Peter, I think we need to stop!" Arthur yelled as Peter jumped to the next pillar, Arthur barely catching him with a small pillar. Arthur turned, ready to make a small, soft landing for Peter, but he slipped on the ice as he started to make the snow. the small bit of magic flew into the air, Arhur failing to notice that it hit Peter in the head. Peter fell to the ground with a small thump, he little bit of snow Arthur hadn't failed to make catching him.
Arthur sat up to see his little brother unconsious on the ground, scrambling over to him. Arthur's bright green eyes, much akin to his mother's, searched his brother for any hints of movement. Curling into his little brother, small sobs left his throat. Lifting his head, he let out one call.
"Daddy! Daddy, please!" The desprate call was loud, as loud as Arthur could possibly go. His crying rose in volume as he curled around his little brother, his only friend. His chest tightened as the ice around the brother's thickened, turned into a more foggy color than the clear, perfect ice of before. The snow receded, and as the king bolten into the room, Arthur's eyes met his, the beautiful green that only he had recieved from his mother glowing in the moonlight, his dirty blonde hair messy.
The king moved to his sons, pulling Peter from Arthur's limp arms and observing him. A small white strand made itself clear in the boy's golden hair, his entire body shaking. The king looked to his older son, the scar on his cheek from that damned day , the glow in his eyes, the tears flowing down his cheeks. Arthur bowed his head, the same flow of apologies flowing from his mouth like a broken record. The king found himself not able to blame his young son, and hated himself for not helping, for net making sure that this didn't happen. If only the queen were here, he found himself thinking, she would have had a better idea of what to do.
The horses rode through the night, Arthur clinging to his father's back, Peter in his father's arms. The last bit of the family that still lived in the castle heading to find out the fate of the youngest son, Peter. The entire band of people were mostly there for protection, should thay need it, but Arendelle has always been rather tame with it's wild animals.
The men made it to their destination soon, on the other side of the long bridge that connected Arendelle to the rest of the world. They strayed off the path, into a deep forest, to find a grove filled with circular rocks. Arthur knows them, knows what they are. They're part of the magical world, and they've lived in this same point for centuries. None of the trolls knew Arthur, though.
"Was he born with his power, or did he gain it in some way?" One of the trolls, an elder with feather's decorating his hair, questioned the king. Arthur watche with facination as the troll held his brother, looking between his father, his brother, and himself. The toher trolls rolled about, preparing some kind of potion, awaiting his father's responce.
"He gained it. I-it was some type of rock, I don't know what it was, I just-" The king rambled on, cutting himself off as he rubbed his youngest son's hair. The troll looked to Arthur, shaking his head, knowing that it was too late to help the boy get rid of his power.
"Okay. You're quite lucky, sire. The mind is easily tricked, but if it had hit this boy's heart, he would freeze." The troll's eyes were solemn, his tone mournful and wise at the same time. The troll was slipped a small rock, hollowed out to make a bowl. The bowl was brought to Peter's lips, and the glowing potion inside was poured down his throat, glowing through his skin.
Peter's veins all went a light with the potion, and when they died down, his breathing went slower, and he was in a deep sleep. The king cried as his son was liften back to him, and he took the boy into his arms without a second's hesitation. The elder troll smiled, looking between the sobbing kind and Arthur, whom had also began to silently cry.
"The boy will remember nothing of this. You must hide your power from him, or he will begin to freeze again." The troll looked Arthur in the eyes, his tone powerful and commanding. "If that happens, then I can only wish you luck. If you come back, I'll be able to help you more, but only Peter can know how to fix himself." The troll continued, his eyes never leaving Arthur's. Arthur nodded numbly, tears falling down his face, letting out a sob as his father pulled him up into a hug.
"Thank you." The king whispered to the trolls, and soon again they were off to the lonesome castle, where the children were seperated from their father, and soon the children were seperate from each other. The father was even more quiet now, only leaving his room to visit with the older sibling, afraid of bringing back Peter's memories. Once a week, the king would join his son and make sure everything was going okay. He would make sure Arthur had everything under control, making sure to tell him the only advice he really knew how to give.
"Don't let them see," The king would smile to his son, his joy and his loneliness reflected in the boy. "Don't let them in," He would make sure to glove the boy's hands, his smile large and careing. "Put on a show, keep your power hidden from the crowds." He would finish, Arthur's hands in his as he would smile to his little boy, his eyes just like his lovely wife. The boy would be left alone the rest of the week, delievered meals by his maid, Eliza.
The king would, a year after Arthur hit Peter, be called out to his eldeast son's wedding. Such a joyus event was celebrated through the kingdom, but since Arthur's isolation, neither he or Peter were allowed to leave the caslte, though this was unknown to Peter. The ships carrying their father was stuck in a large storm, one that was unexpected on a day that was bright and sunny just hours before.
The king died that day, on that ship. Only a bit was found, and a letter from the king to anyone that would read said clearly 'Leave Arendelle to my son Arthur, my little boy. I will be with my queen now, happy and free at least.' Arthur did not attend the funeral, but wore nothing but black for days. Peter had began to come to his room now, knock on the door and plead him to come out.
"Arthur? We're the only people here aside from the maids. Please, please come out and play with me! I'm so bored without you, you big jerk!" Was the usuall plea, Arthur just grumpily telling Peter to go away. It was soon that Eliza, Arthur's maid with long curls of brown hair and pretty forest-like green eyes, told Arthur of Peter sleeping outside his door. Arthur paid this little mind, making Eliza leave.
Arthur's coronation to be king was now only weeks away, and he couldn't be bothered with Eliza or Peter right now. Arthur needs to practice.