Chapter One – Castle Panic

The night was tranquil and serene. The sounds of the fjord - waves lapping up the docks and boats gently floating - drifted up into the houses, lulling the town to sleep. This was normal for Arendelle. Since the Queen's Coronation and the harrowing events that followed, the kingdom had mainly kept to itself. The people were content to continue working and the royal family had simply enjoyed their newfound peace. Queen Elsa had found peace with her family, her powers, and herself. Princess Anna couldn't be happier to have all the time to spend with her sister and her boyfriend, Kristoff. No one would have thought that during this time of peace, someone had other plans.

On the streets, one could clearly see the gates of the castle, and well beyond them. The royal family had a strict policy of leaving their gates open wide. It was a welcoming change from the thirteen years of no one coming in or out. It was not so welcoming, however, to someone who wanted a tour of the castle in the dead of the night. That's why no one was near the front gates or the streets. The hopeful intruder was taking the overhead approach, the rooftops.

"Ah blast," a voice chided itself, "I forgot they had a bridge." A strapping youth dressed in a tattered bundle of layered clothes squatted at the edge of the closest roof. A small, worn satchel hung dutifully close by his side. He rested his head against the chimney he had been peering around. "What would Grandpapa say in this situation?" The boy seized his head in his hands and puffed out his cheeks, trying to jog his own memory. His face lit up. "Never store your cooked meats near raw ones, they'll soil each other!" He had confused himself. "No that's wrong. Come on." He puffed his cheeks out again and pulled at his ears. If anyone could see him right then, he would've felt very foolish.

"Hello!" An overly high-spirited voice greeted loud in his ear.

"Oh sweet mistletoe!" the boy nearly shouted, but quickly muffled it in his scarf. He quickly tried to scramble away from who he thought was going to turn him in only to see something completely unexpected. "You're a snowman?" Sure enough, a cheery snowman was standing next to him. A tiny cloud hovered above his head, letting snowflakes drift down all around him.

"Hi! I'm Olaf and I like warm hugs!" The snowman opened his arms wide, though he didn't seem to actually expect the gesture to be reciprocated. The boy stared for a moment, flabbergasted by this development. Then a buttery grin spread across his face and he quickly wrapped the snowman up in his arms.

"I've never met a talking snowman before!" He pulled back and grabbed the snowman's tiny hand and shook it enthusiastically. "It's very nice to meet you! I'm Ni—" He slapped a hand over his own mouth. He had nearly said his name because he was so excited! Olaf couldn't help but laugh at this.

"I've never met anyone named Ni before either," he chuckled to himself.

"That's not my name!" he protested.

"Then why'd you say it was?"

"I can't tell you my real name." He puffed his chest out proudly, his chin jutting forward. He looked like a pompous chimpanzee. Olaf looked at him quizzically. Then he looked around at where they were.

"So why are you on the roof?" The boy was almost taken aback by such a direct question.

"I want to get in the castle." Again his hands slapped themselves over his mouth. He hadn't meant to say that. The snowman pointed at the wide open gates.

"Why don't you go in the front door?"

"I don't want to be seen." It was just like his sister had said; he couldn't keep his mouth shut to save his own skin.

"Do you really want to go in?"

"It's important, yeah." The snowman's brow crinkled in concentration.

"Wait, I'm getting something," Olaf mumbled, and then he lit up, "Oh I know!"

"Shh! Not so loud!" Even if he had been spotted by a snowman, the boy still didn't want to attract any more unwanted attention.

"Fall in the water!"

"I can't swim very well," the boy admitted.

"That's even better!"

The boy's face contorted from shock, to concern, and then to surprise, because he was already being dragged straight off the rooftops and to the waiting docks. "No stop please I don't want to get in the water!" Too late! Olaf heaved the lean lad into the water. He floundered about, trying to find a handhold. "Help!" He gulped in water with every breath he attempted to take. He was barely able to hold his satchel above his head with his free arm. He thought he was done for. Then those ridiculous twig arms reached down into the water. Olaf quickly hoisted him back onto the pier.

"You weren't kidding! You really can't swim," Olaf observed. The boy gasped for air, spitting out a mouthful of water.

"When someone tells you they can't swim, your first instinct should not be to throw them into the water," he scolded in between gulping in air.

"I'm getting you into the castle like you wanted!"

"The fjord is not a castle, no matter how you slice it."

"Follow me!" Olaf ignored his new friend's complaints and raced towards the castle gates.

"Olaf… Olaf!" he hissed, "I told you I can't go in the front gate. It's the middle of the night!"

"Nice night, Olaf," One of the two guards stationed at the front gate called to him.

"Hello!" He stopped at the guard's feet and grinned. "My friend Ni fell in the water." The guard looked up to see a lean boy desperately trying not to shiver. His clothes were absolutely drenched.

"Olaf! Did you scare someone else off the pier?" The first guard rushed to help the freezing boy. Everyone in the area knew that the water was a lot colder than what most people were used to. The second guard had walked into the castle, probably looking for someone to help. "We're sorry about that; he forgets that not everyone knows him," the first guard explained, pulling him into the courtyard. The guard that had left emerged once again, this time with an older woman. The boy guessed she was a handmaid. She carried a cloak to the boy and wrapped it around his shoulders.

"Bye Ni!" Olaf waved from the gate. He pranced away; his job was over.

"You poor dear, let me take you inside. We'll fix you up." She swept him up in her stride, and before he knew what was happening, he was already inside the castle. The boy wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but it certainly wasn't a friendly escort into the building he was trying to break into. Maybe this wouldn't be as complicated as he had feared.

"Dandelion fuzz," the boy cursed under his breath. If his mother had heard him, she probably would have slapped him. Not only because he had been swearing, but also because he had made a near-fatal error, again. He thought back to figure out where had made a mistake.

After the handmaid had helped him inside, she insisted that he change out of the rags he had been wearing. She had some difficulty finding him a suitable shirt; all of the men's clothes in the castle seemed to be tailored for a giant, compared to him anyway. He almost felt bad for leaving what she did gather for him in the guest room. When she left he had waited, and waited, and waited, and maybe have fallen asleep for a minute or four, but then, he was off. He quickly changed back to his damp clothes, leaving the nice warm garments folded at the foot of the bed. If he had actually been a traveler that could repay them for their kindness, he would have gladly accepted the bed and clothes. It was his policy to never take what he couldn't return eventually.

He snuck out of his room, slowly walking down the hall. If anyone saw him he'd appear to be half-asleep. That was all the cover he needed since he had been invited inside. He figured that the royal family's quarters would be somewhere near the top of the castle. A procession of suits of armor led up to a spiraling staircase. They were all in pristine condition, save for the one nearest the stairs. It showed severe signs of wear, like someone had crashed into it and attempted to repair it without any idea what it was supposed to look like. He wondered what the repairman was thinking when they had pieced it back together. He trudged up the stairs, listening for anyone walking about in the night.

At the top of the stairs, banister split by columns kept people from accidentally falling three stories. The other side of the hall was lined with cream colored doors, similar to the entry to his room. None were suitable for a queen. The finery of the palace was mesmerizing. Even the candlesticks were more elegant than any of the boy's possessions. If he wasn't so honest he would have tried to put one in his satchel. He turned a corner. A stained glass window adorned the end of the hallway. "Beautiful window, check; door with decorations…" Halfway down the hall, two tall white doors carefully decorated with flowery designs stood tall. "Check! Kind of," he muttered. His sister had said there would be one door, but she was close enough for only having checked once. He pulled several stiff wires out of his satchel. Gingerly, he slid the wires into the keyhole, fidgeting until he heard a click. "Open sesame…" he whispered, pushing the door in slowly.

A single figure snored away under the covers of a large bed. Even facing away from him, she was clearly royalty. He had found her! He slid the door closed just enough to look like it was closed without locking himself inside. When he approached the bed, doubt crept into the back of his mind. She didn't look particularly queen-y. She definitely didn't look magical. She hardly matched the description he had been given. "It won't hurt to try," he mumbled. Setting down the bag on the young lady's bedside table roused her enough for her to roll over.

"Maybe later Olaf…" she mumbled. Drool trailed down from the corner of her mouth. Her hair had wound itself into a mass of ginger curls. That in itself could be labeled as magical; he had never seen such a nasty case of bedhead. He elected to ignore her and dug through his bag instead. He pushed aside various vials and bundles of paper to uncover a small pouch. This was the only reason he was here. He gingerly opened it. It was filled with silvery dust. He took a pinch of the powder and pressed it between his fingertips. He held it above her head and hummed to himself. His fingertips seemed to glow as the dust ignited with a muted light. The light slowly faded and he stopped humming.

"Gidref," he said, ending the tune.

"Let's see if you're her," he said. Reaching in his back pocket, he pulled out a chipped block of glass, a crystal with a point on top. He ceremoniously set the prism down onto the dust in his palm and waited. After a moment, the crystal dully shined a burnt yellow. "Dandelion fuzz," he swore. She wasn't the queen. "Wait. Oh no," he realized who he had found. "It's the princess," he groaned. Of all the mistakes he could have made, this was probably the most ridiculous. "I apologize, milady, but I think I just mistook you for your sister," he grumbled. He shoved the prism back into his pocket and flung the dust onto the princess. "You can have that back now. Sorry for any inconvenience," he quipped, kicking himself inside. How could he make such a thoughtless mistake?

"Mm, krumkake…" she rumbled groggily, chewing the corner of her pillow. He needed to get out of here. He quickly gathered his belongings. He left the princess snoring away, oblivious.

"Where do I go?" he wondered aloud. He had found the wrong beautiful window, but at least he had found a beautiful window. The royal women came in pairs, so why couldn't the royal windows? Despite his flawed logic, around the next corner an impressive window faced out to a beautiful view of the mountains. "Whoa," he breathed. With a view like this, any doors nearby must be… He turned around and inhaled sharply. "The queen's," he gulped. The door was decorated with delicate blue rosemaling. It stood solemnly in front of him, waiting. He reached out and grabbed the handle. He was shaking in his boots, and it wasn't only because the door was freezing cold. "Here goes nothing."

This one was definitely the queen. If the crown wasn't a dead giveaway, all the snowflakes floating around totally were. He didn't even need to use his crystal to check this one. He hastily grabbed a handful of dust from the pouch and started humming. As the tune progressed, the floating flakes slowed. He paid no attention to the snow's sluggish movement and progressed into a slow chant. "Etted re ne igam mos gej nak erellortnok. Vles enned atnej må ellips ne ellor, dev plejh va tsøv låtn arf te llort. Dem låtn tkam go låtn tkam, al gem få ekryts lit nim seilimaf syl. Nak enned netfark låsen i etted tsøtev i dlevk." The dirty gray dust slowly turned to a dangerous blue, exactly as his grandpapa had thought it would. He smiled to himself and continued chanting. All was going well.

Then the queen woke up.

She opened one eye sleepily. Then both eyes popped open in surprise. She shouted and ice leaped from her fingertips. The boy was thrown back, smashing into a bookshelf. Books and childhood toys rained down. He resumed chanting. His mother had warned him never to leave a chant to run its own course. Terrible things could happen to the person being borrowed from. He tried to calm her by approaching, but it only made her more skittish. The floor iced over and he skidded forward. The queen was simultaneously frightening and frightened, and he couldn't decide if he wanted to comfort her or run far away.

"Intruder!" the queen shouted. Icy spikes sprouted all around the boy, trapping him. "How did you get in?" she asked, pulling her sheets back to stand and walk over to him. He shook his head. If he did this part wrong she might get injured. "I said: how did you get in?" An icicle pierced his collar and he yelped. Oh no. He had interrupted the chant. At least he was free to talk now.

"Your majesty, please stop! I don't want to hurt you!" he pleaded. From the intimidating queen to the fearsome spikes, his warning was almost ironic. How could an unarmed boy hurt this magic wielding queen? Except that he wasn't unarmed. The dust branded his hand, expelling a burning light. He flinched as it scorched his palm. The queen watched the boy, not sure what to make of this.

The dust pulsed with light once then fell silent. Cautiously, he opened his palm. An explosion of light blinded him and left his ears ringing. When his vision cleared, he saw the queen lying on her bed, passed out. Her hair had turned from icy white to a chestnut brown. "Y-your majesty?" he ventured. She was out cold. Before he could make his way out of the icicle circle he had been trapped in, the door burst open. The princess, her hair stuck up in a wild mane, ran into the room. She slid forward, nearly falling on her face. She steadied herself on the bed and finally spotted the intruder.
"Who are you?" she asked. Then she looked down and saw her sister. "Elsa!" She glared at the boy. "Did you do this?" she asked, marching up to the stranger.

"I'm so sorry! It was an accident, I swear!"

"Get away from her!" The princess pulled at one of the spikes and broke off the end. She swung it with a vengeance. "Out!" she shooed him.

"Stop! Ah!" he shouted, dodging the icicle aimed for his head. He rapidly picked his way out of the icicle ring, sliding to the window. He stuffed the dust back into the pouch, too flustered to realize that it was all shining blue. He was so shaken up he didn't even notice when he spilled it onto himself and the floor.

Satisfied that he was staying away from her sister, the princess checked in with Elsa. The queen hadn't moved an inch, and her breathing was terribly slow. The princess touched her sister's hand and then her forehead. "She's burning up. Did you do this?" she turned back to the intruder to find him, missing. "Hello?" The window had been thrown open, ice coating the windowsill and glass.

The boy was gone.

Chapter one word count: 2,890 words

A/N: I've had this idea bouncing around in my noggin for a while now, and since I was procrastinating on writing something else I thought I would indulge myself with something with a bit more description.

In case anyone is wondering what language "Ni" was speaking, which hopefully you are, it was backwards Google-translated Norwegian. Here's the English translation: "This is a magic that I can control. Even this girl must play a role, using dust borrowed from a troll. With borrowed power and borrowed might, let me bring strength to my family's light. May this power be borrowed in this dust tonight."

I hope you all stay on for the whole ride, because I'm excited to take this as far as it can go.