UPDATE: Hello, so - damn - it's been like two years maybe even more. I was rereading this earlier today (with all it's grammatical error glory), the reviews... all that and just how much fun it was to write in the first place. That's why I decided to come back and edit it, make it better, add more meat (like one reviewer said)- all that. I have roughly two weeks before school starts, so I'm going to make it my goal to finish this project by then.

If you're new to this story, then welcome, and please keep in mind that I wrote this two to three years ago (what I'm saying is that there are A LOT of mistakes). If you're an older follower, then welcome back. Hopefully you'll enjoy this ride as much as I will.

Let's begin, shall we?

Summary: After almost freezing her parents, Elsa is sent to The Academy for the Gifted. A school dedicated to teaching those who are "gifted" with special powers. How will Elsa react to this new home?

Disclaimer: I only own my OC's

Prologue

A couple of months from now, Elsa remembers how the blue tones of her room match those of the ice rink she makes and can't help but taste sour in her mouth and feel tears down her porcelain cheeks. Today, however, isn't a couple of months from now.

Conceal it, don't feel it, a 15-year-old princess chants in her head. Her light blonde hair, almost white, cascades down her back in waves. She's really pretty actually, beautiful even - with her acne free skin and rows of pristine white teeth-, but right now her light blue eyes are dark and she frowns. A horrible one that contorts her face, pushing her eyebrows together and the corners of her lips downward. She was breathing heavily too. Puffs of air come out of her mouth and form clouds of steam that reach the ceiling and disappear, almost mocking her because ha! We can leave, but you can't! You have to stay there and suffer. Suffer. Suffer. Suf-

"These little slip ups… Elsa, they can't keep happening! Elsa? Elsa!" The King roars at his eldest daughter. He is tall, six foot three, and has a kind of rugged handsome look to him that comes with age, time and hard work. Everything about him, including his mighty dark uniform and mustache, eludes power and control. He is kind, yes, but also very, very intimidating.

"I-I know! I'm trying!" The teenage royalty spats back. Her eyes close as the temperature drops another ten degrees, but damn it, I'm trying. Can't you see that?

"Alexander." A third voice says softly. The Queen appears next to her husband. Queen Roxanne is small in height or, as Anna likes to say, 'fun sized.' She is the heart and joy of the kingdom, always being kind and gentle to her people and staff.

"Well, try harder!" The King's fists close, turning his knuckles white. "Stop making it cold!"

Conceal it, "It's hard!" don't feel it.

"How hard can it be, Elsa? Conceal it, don't feel it!" The breath that follows releases a stream of steam. This only infuriates the King further. "Elsa."

"Can't you understand that I'm trying!" A lone tear falls down the Princess' cheek.

"You're not doing anything! Stop freezing things!" Another breath, another gust of steam.

"Alexander." The Queen repeats, her voice turning slightly hostile.

"I can't control it if you keep yelling at me!"

"I wouldn't have to yell at you if you control it!"

Elsa turns around and heads to her window. When she was younger, the view of the fjord would always calm her down.

"Elsa! Don't you dare turn your back at me." The little hairs in the back of His Majesty's neck stand up.

Conceal it, don't feel it.

Elsa slowly places one hand on the glass, leaving a snowflake of ice beneath her touch. Hey eyes shift around the scenery as an early hot July sun shines in the heavens.

It's kind of sad really. The only other place that would calm her down was being in her fathers arms. He would pick her up after she ran into her parents room- back when she had nightmares (now she just calls them dreams) - and lay her down in the middle of the bed, right between him and his wife and whisper soothing things in her ear and stroke her golden white hair because, yes, she was the eldest but she never, ever, wanted to stop being daddy's little girl. Sometimes, if Elsa closed her eyes hard enough and focused long enough, she could faintly smell her father's unique scent of hearth and fire place, which was just such a nice and refreshing change from the stale and poignant -almost bitter- taste of ice beneath her tongue.

"Elsa." Her father yells again, he takes a step toward her. "Conceal it, don't feel it." Another step.

"Alexander!" The Queen commands, her voice reflects what she's thinking: Stop talking. He doesn't obey, and only takes another step.

Everything changed when she hit Anna with her magic. Everything. Her parents couldn't even make eye contact and her dad became cold and distant. Anna... she couldn't even play with her little sister anymore because Elsa was a monster. A horrible, awful beast who hurts her own little sister. Forget about 'daddy's little girl,' Elsa was alone. Her only companion were her gloves and even those failed her from time to time. Be close to no one, and you hurt no one.

I wish I didn't have this curse. Never, ever, ever, ever and waterfalls are now cascading down her face and it keeps getting colder and colder. Her breaths are quicker, more pronounced, making her shoulder jump up and down in rapid succession. She can't feel her finger tips and she's light headed.

I'm having a panic attack.

"Don't come closer!" The Princess says suddenly, she swiftly turns and presses her back against the window. She raises her gloved right hand in a sign of stop that quickly turns sour as a trail of ice follows suit.

The King and Queen promptly drop to the ground, shards of the magical frost speed over their heads.

Elsa gasps and quickly lowers her hand, the temperature rises and the frozen snowflake in the window disappears. More mockery.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" She makes her way to her father and helps him stand up.

"I'm fine." He says and shakes invisible dirt from his pants. "Roxanne?" He turns his head to his wife.

She lies still, deadly still, in the ground. "Roxanne!"

Elsa's eyes fill with more tears and she puts her hands over her mouth to stop the sobs from coming.

"Roxanne?" The King pleads; her picks her up and puts her on top of the bed. A huge gash in her head owes blood. "Mommy?"

"Elsa, get the physician!" He takes part of the comforter and presses it against the injury, trying to stop the blood flow.

He looks at his daughter, who just stands there dumbfounded. "Get him now! Elsa!"

The teenager snaps out of her trance and darts out of the room, running through the hallway.

"Help!" She yells. "Someone, I need the physician!"

Sometimes, if Lexa closes her eyes hard enough and focuses long enough, she can hear faint voices coming from the walls whispering and calling her a monster.

The Queen takes a sharp breath and opens her eyes. She blinks a couple of times as she adjusts to the lighting.

As memories come rushing back, she notes that she's lying in her bedroom and that her head hurts. A lot.

"Roxanne." A voice she knows very well murmurs in relief.

"Alex?" She asks and turns her head to the side where her husband sits. He gives her a weak smile and gently takes her hand in his.

"Are you okay?" She nods, a yawn escapes her lips.

The King chuckles and takes breath. After doing so, his eyes darken. A dark shadow falls over his face, what once was rare is now very common.

"What is it?" Roxanne asks worriedly. She didn't really need to ask, she's known for a very long time.

Her husband shakes his head; his hand runs through his red hair. "We have to send her to The Academy."

The Queen closes her eyes. She doesn't like the idea, not at all, but after the previous events she knows there is no other option. Her daughter needs to learn how to control her powers one way or the other.

This may just be what they need. "I know."

The King nods, "I'll go make preparations." He stands up and kisses her forehead.

"Rest." She does so without another thought. She dreams about her two beautiful daughters playing in the snow and when she wakes again she can't help but wonder, what if?

A few weeks later...

Elsa breathes in the late July air; she is ready to set sail to this so-called Academy her father had informed her she was to attend. He frown makes it clear that she isn't happy, not one bit. She reaches down to pick up the last of her luggage and makes her ways to the fjord. There, a ship called Black Ice was to escort her.

This is my entire fault. She thinks. If I had just controlled my powers, I wouldn't have to go to this stupid school.

Elsa breathes in, a wave of guilt goes through her as she remembers that her mother got hurt because of her, that her sister got her because of her. She shudders. Monster.

At least I didn't hit her with my magic. Much to Elsa's luck, the gash that had taken residence in the Queen's forehead was cause of her hitting her head with the desk.

Here we go.

The familiar fjord rests before her, adorned with beautiful ships from far away lands. Her eyes narrow at the last ship in the dock. It stands tall and bright, an enormous banner is tied to the mast with the words Academy for the Gifted painted in bright black. On the left flank, sprayed over the mahogany, is its name: Black Ice.

Just like me, Elsa thinks, I'm not the good guy here.

As the blonde gets closer, she can't help but feel sorrow. Her goodbye committee only consists of Kai, Arendelle's most beloved servant.

She plasters a small smile in her face and bows before him. She wishes she could rush over and hug him, but... she can't. A courtesy bow is the least she can do after so much time together. They share a few words of goodbye and, before they know it, she's up in the deck, waving farewell.

The last thing Elsa remembers before going down to her quarters is a little girl with burning strawberry blonde hair running through the harbor side.

"Goodbye Anna." The Princess whispers, I love you.

Well, what do you think? Is it better? Please, don't tell me there are more errors in my spelling (I'm just kidding, please do, no one's perfect).

Thanks for reading,

Midnight.