"I just don't understand." The king muttered, his arms positioned firmly on the window sill that overlooked Arendelle. "What could have possibly caused this?"
The queen's eyes looked to her child, who was sound asleep in her arms. The living room, well lit by the fireplace, was gradually filling with snow. "I don't think it's something that can be explained." Whispered the queen. "It's just something we will have to accept. Our daughter-she has a gift, and that is not anything I intend to destroy."
"But it's not normal!" the king cried, slamming his fist. Elsa remained still, but the snow stirred into soft swirling designs on the wooden floor. Sighing, he turned to confront the queen.
"One day, she will be Queen of Arendelle. We can't let something like this be seen! What will the people think? That we've got some-some sort of monster for a daughter?" The king's face seemed lost now, as if he was searching for an answer that had no question to begin with.
"How dare you." The queen's grip tightened around Elsa's frail body. Her child was no monster. "She will be a magnificent queen, and the people will adore her." She paused, picking up a pale of water to douse the flames. "It's only a matter of time before her powers grow stronger."
"We must wait." Said the king, intent on covering Elsa's abilities. "She may still have a chance to live an ordinary life."
Frustrated, the queen took Elsa to her room, which was adorned with elegant curtains and bedding made of the finest silks in the kingdom. Placing her daughter into her crib, the queen knelt down and kissed her cheek. "Elsa, my princess, sweet dreams."
Turning out the light, the queen left the room in total blackness. As night seeped into the room, a touch of ice gathered upon the windows.
Elsa was only six months old, when Jack Frost first appeared to her.