Part One—Høst

— —

Chapter I: Elsa Arendelle

I hadn't known rich people could be so eccentric. I suppose that when your title alone provides enough wealth and power to easily finance an affluent life of luxury, you end up with an absurd amount of free time, and have to spend it doing equally absurd things. You'd think there'd be a limit to it at some point, though.

The doors that led to the conference room opened as several sharply dressed people swarmed out into the hallway, heading their separate ways. Some were chatting, others were silent, and a few were distressed, striking out toward the restrooms situated next door. Icy blue heels clicked on tile as she approached, pace quick, head down, platinum blonde bangs bouncing, tendrils of hair dangling from a tight bun, the fingers of one hand rapidly spamming messages on a glowing BlackBerry with a snowflake keychain dangling from it. Her other hand held a cup of coffee: a mocha latte, two cream and three sugars—I would know, she had me buy it that morning, like every morning. She was dressed in white slacks with a matching suit jacket over a pale blue formal blouse and a pair of white gloves. She was also wearing sunglasses, a pair of silver aviators, indoors.

I nodded as she neared me, turning around in her direction as she passed me and following on her right, with my colleague, Sven, the rookie, on her left.

"How was the meeting, ma'am?" I asked lightly, and without expression.

She stopped dead and turned to face me, though I could not tell through the reflective abyss whether she was actually looking at me. Her brows furrowed.

"You can talk?" she remarked. It sounded like an inquisitive groan of surprise, she was clearly tired and irritated. Her voice often sounded quite nice—almost musical—on a good day, as rare as they were. Her dark lenses stared impassively at nothing, at everything.

"Quite well," I replied coolly.

She grunted thoughtfully, before turning on a raised crystalline hell and continuing down the clinical and minimalist hall, aloof and taking a swig of her liquid confection. Sven looked over at me apprehensively, and I looked back at him with my most intimidating and intense stare. He folded like a leaf under it and looked away. I too turned back around, smirking underneath my intangible bodyguard mask as we approached and entered the elevator, and ascended the spire of a tower that was the Frost Industries headquarters.

My charge was none other than Elsa Arendelle, the enigmatic CEO of said company. Her nerves have been frazzled ever since I've met her, and likely for a lot longer than that, though I've only been guarding her for the past few months. Ominously, this made me one of the most senior members of her staff. Though, when you take into account her volatile shifts between a harried, impatient woman and a social ice queen, as well as her strangely sparse eating habits, and the rumors of many strange accidents involving her, it becomes a bit more clear why I would be considered as such, though it was still not very encouraging.

Our transport awaited us on the roof, a sleek, short-winged urban jet resembling an SUV without wheels. Not a word was spoken as we approached and boarded the vehicle with Sven driving, me in the passenger seat, and our charge in the very back. She was still tapping away at her phone, still wearing shades; it was even darker in here than it was in the building. The entire routine was the same every time, with the shades being an exception, as she wore them all day on seemingly random days. I never asked; it was not my place to, and even if it were, she likely still wouldn't have told me anyway. It was just her way.

Nothing eventful or worth mentioning happened for another hour and 45 minutes—the amount of time elapsing the expanse of mundane activity that covered the flight to the estate, the landing on its roof, and our entry into the building.

The doors leaving the helipad opened to reveal a flash of bright orange hair, accented by a curious streak of white and plaited into twin braids, that went on to light up the rest of the world with color in my eyes. Anna Arendelle, sister to Elsa Arendelle, was one of the few things worth mentioning in my repetitive, predictable, and uneventful life, and the only one worth a lot more than just mentioning.

"Elsa!" she cried, racing down the hall toward us. She was clad in casual attire, a black long-sleeved blouse with some sort of design printed on it, and jeans. She was barefoot. Elsa put out a hand, still holding her phone, though it was not an invitation to an embrace, but a hand denying passage. Anna's face fell at the sight and she stopped running. She hung her head as Elsa walked past her without a glance, Sven and I trailing a ways behind. It was the same every time, and while I pitied the auburn-haired woman, I didn't say anything; it wasn't my place to, and even if it was, I still wouldn't have asked. It just wasn't my way. There wasn't anything I could have done anyway.

She turned as I passed her, and smiled half-heartedly, the somewhat expected rejection still weighing heavily on a heart large enough to care, and strong enough to try to endure the lack of reciprocation.

"Hello, Kristoff." Her eyes were as sincere as they always were; she was a terrible liar and knew it, so she had given up on the idea altogether.

I nodded curtly back at her. "Miss Anna," I clipped. It was formal and stiff, but it was as warm as I could make it from underneath the mask. It was at least more cordial than her sister's greeting, or the lack thereof. I think that's why she smiled at me as I continued on down the hallway, going about the rest of my uneventful routine as senior bodyguard to the cold-hearted and eccentric CEO of one of the most powerful corporations in the world. At least the pay was good.

— —

It had been almost a week, and was now the third Sunday of the month—golf day. I don't even know why Ms. Arendelle played; she was honestly terrible at it, but we all clapped anyway whenever she eventually sank the ball into each hole. To challenge her eccentric side would be to challenge her frigid and cold-hearted side as well, and no one had ever escaped that without some kind of frostbite. Out of all of her strange hobbies—none of which she really seemed to actually enjoy—golf was the most puzzling. Elsa never liked to make mistakes; she didn't tolerate it in herself nor in others. I had been lucky enough to master the art of details very quickly in her service, but her own skill at it always seemed to escape her whenever she was on the course, and the large amount of grace and coordination that was generally concealed by her sometimes odd appearance always seemed to evaporate whenever she was near a golf club.

A new hole. Elsa squared off at the tee, and after a moment, swung, hearing the whoosh of the driver and nothing more. She sighed in irritation and repositioned, hands clenching and unclenching, clad in white gloves. Another pause, another swing, another empty swish of air, another groan. Sven and I stood in the shade, clad in our immaculate black suits with our earpieces and concealed handguns, standing besides a few of the other staff members, keeping watch from a small distance, close but not too close, just how she liked it.

Elsa resumed her stance, her shoulders set, feet planted apart, determination rolling off of her in waves. A long pause ensued in which no one moved. It wasn't really any different from the others, but it still felt different, almost cold, though there was no wind. The others shifted slightly, and it seemed that I wasn't the only one who had noticed the change.

Her arms raised the club behind her, over her head, pausing again, before coming down and swinging once more. A satisfying crack filled the air as the white ball sailed through the air and down the field. Everyone clapped. The air began to warm, and I felt slightly uncomfortable in my dark suit. Sven was acting as caddy, as usual, and took the golf club that she handed to him without turning her head, though whether her eyes glanced over at him was impossible to determine, as she was wearing shades again.

I took my place beside her. "An excellent hit, ma'am," I complimented dryly. I didn't really care, she didn't really care, and we both knew it.

"Don't patronize me." She knew it wasn't impressive, I knew it wasn't impressive, and we both didn't really care.

An hour later, we were returning to the manor on foot, as the entire 18 hole golf course was situated on the grounds along with a sizeable pond, a helipad, and a stable full of horses that no one ever rode. There was much more than that, but none of it was hardly worth mentioning. Elsa's scores from her solitary game on the green were horrendous, though relatively better than they had been in the past. She wasn't happy about it, though it wasn't really that surprising. It must be stressful to continuously strive for perfection.

Anna awaited us at the door. She didn't watch Elsa play. She had at first, when her elder sister had first decided to take up the sport, but Elsa had told her to leave. To the best of my knowledge, it was the last time she had ever spoken to Anna, and that was over two months ago. The redhead watched us passively as we entered the mansion, and not a word was spoken. She smiled at me before giving a light greeting and walked away down another hall. I realized then that she had only ever said it to me, not Sven.

Elsa had returned to her study, which was a large high-ceilinged room and usually silent except for the ticking of a massive and ancient grandfather clock that stood against one of the walls. She sat down at the desk, placed her elbows upon it and began to massage her temples; she'd been doing that a lot lately.

"Coffee," she barked, the command sending Sven scurrying out of the room. We were alone now. The silence never really bothered me; before I had accepted the offer for the position as Elsa's bodyguard, I was living a quiet post-military life in a cabin far to the north, with no company other than the wind, the snow, and the occasional reindeer. Now though, in that room, I felt myself become oddly restless. Perhaps it was the clock—its ticking was deafening against the quiet of the room—or perhaps it was because Ms. Arendelle had for some reason not dismissed me from the office.

Her hands dropped from the side of her head, and lay clasped together before her. Her pale head looked up at me, platinum blonde bangs framing her face, the rest plaited in a long, thick, solitary braid tossed over her shoulder.

"Why are you still here?" she asked, perturbed.

"Would you prefer for me to wait outside?"

"I..." she trailed off and sighed as she sank into the leather seat, taking off the aviators and tossing them lightly onto the desk before rubbing her eyes with slender, manicured hands. There were very dark bags under the irises, and the eyes themselves were almost bloodshot. "No, it's fine, I guess. It's just different, that's all. It's weird."

"Ma'am, are you alright?" I felt quite concerned, my job entailed not only protecting her from physical harm, but guaranteeing her health and safety in general.

"Do I seem unwell to you?"

"In all honesty, yes. Have you not been sleeping well?" She frowned at me in confusion and raised a hand to her temple, where her shades would have been if she were wearing them. The hand clenched tightly.

"No. I haven't." Anxious hands stroked at her braid as she looked out the window. The afternoon light touched her face, highlighting her freckles, and causing the dark marks to appear even more severe. I almost winced.

"When was the last time you tried to sleep? If I may,"

"Thursday night."

It's Sunday afternoon.

I wasn't sure what to say. I was partly rendered speechless by the revelation, and was then unsure whether I should admonish her for it; If I made one wrong move, the situation could end rather badly. She turned around and looked me in the eyes, intense crystalline blue, the hue that emerges from thick ice. I hadn't seen those eyes in over a week. She chuckled cynically. "It's funny, you're the only one I can actually trust now..."

I wasn't quite sure what that was supposed to mean. "What about Anna?" I asked.

She shook her head sadly, and seemed to curl in on herself. She sighed, "as you are a senior member of my staff, and charged with maintaining my health and safety, there is a matter that I feel you should be aware of-"

The door opened, and both of our heads snapped up to it, Elsa quickly grabbing her shades. Sven stood on the threshold, a cup of steaming coffee in his hand. He looked between Elsa and I, trying to figure out why she suddenly looked so pissed off.

"You're supposed to knock." She snapped. An expectant hand stretched out, and a chastised and thoroughly embarrassed Sven handed over the drink. She took it and drank from it heavily, grimacing suddenly, before placing the cup down and settling a glare back at Sven.

"Unbelievable."

Sven seemed confused, getting an almost deer in the headlights look. His eyes flicked at me for a moment before he spoke, his voice wavering, "Ma'am?"

"Mocha latte, two cream, three sugar." She dangled the cup, "this only has one cream and one sugar in it."

Poor Sven's eyes dramatically widened practically to the size of dinner plates, and he cringed. Elsa was very particular about details, almost to the point of obsession. She slammed the cup back onto the desk, a few droplets leaping from the small opening at the top, and leaned back heavily in the chair, crossing her legs and folding her arms, "Please, tell me, Sven, why the hell should I put up with you?"

"I..." his hands were beginning to shake.

Elsa stood suddenly from the chair, her arm knocking into the drink, causing it to tumble and spill, splashing scalding, too-bitter coffee on the floor, desk chair, and Elsa's white pants. She yelled in frustration, her hands fisting into her hair, her arms and hands trembling.

"Ma'am!" Sven and I cried in unison, only managing to take a single step forward before she put out a hand to stop us.

"Kristoff, coffee. Now."

I pursed my lips, hoping I wouldn't regret what I was about to say, "Perhaps you should just rest, ma'am."

Sven whipped around to face me in alarm, as if I had decided to make my last stand and play the valiant, tragic hero. Elsa seemed furious at the challenge. We stared each other down in silence.

"Coffee."

"Sleep."

"Coffee."

Sven's terrified head looked back and forth between us, as if the confrontation was a tennis rally with the ball on fire.

"You have a meeting tomorrow morning—and with all due respect, I am tasked with ensuring your health and safety, and I feel it is prudent that you get some rest immediately."

She bit her lip, hands clenched at her sides, her head down. The coffee was staining her pant leg. "Fine." She turned and left the room.

I released the breath of tension I had been unconsciously holding and began to follow her. Halfway to the door, I realized Sven hadn't moved. I frowned at him, "What are you standing there for?"

He was trembling violently, and peered up at me, "Am I fired?"

I smirked, "No, not yet, now come on. If you manage not to screw up again today, she may forget about it by tomorrow."

He nodded, "I hope so..." He looked over at the light brown mess on the floor. "I'm going to notify one of the housekeepers."

I grunted in response and left the room to find my charge; we may have been within the safety of the manor, but I still felt the need to not stray too far. I hoped that she would be able to sleep well.

— —

There were no sunglasses today, and her eyes were clear and focused. That was a good sign. The trip to the board room was as uneventful as always, though she had been sparing me quick and furtive glances ever since we left the manor. The sudden acknowledgement and attention was a bit unsettling, but it was perhaps somewhat justified, considering the very memorable events from yesterday.

You're the only one I can really trust now...

Was I really? Surely there were others, the other senior staff members, a friend perhaps, or...Anna? Why didn't she trust Anna? Why couldn't she trust Anna? Her own sister, her benevolent flesh and blood, who had never shown her anything but sincere and heartfelt kindness, even when Elsa had continually spurned her again and again. Was it something hidden in their past? A falling out of some kind? While my charge had her moments of callousness, she had at least shown some sort of acknowledgement to those in the path of her storm, but with Anna, it was as if she wasn't even worth the time, invisible. Perhaps it had to do with what she was going to tell me before Sven had interrupted us.

As we neared the plainly elegant wooden doors that led to our destination, Elsa's face settled into her own impassive and stern mask, wearing a righteous, self-important attitude befitting a wielder of immense power, an arrogance not marred by cockiness or concealed ineptitude.

As it was just a board conference, and not an exclusive meeting, Sven and I were allowed to be inside the room while business was conducted. It was about as boring as I had expected it to be; the department heads gave their reports of the past month's developments, addressed their mundane concerns, which were answered, and they then discussed what was to be done next. I always blocked it out, as it wasn't my area of expertise, and I didn't understand half of it anyway. Since Elsa never seemed perturbed by it, or in any way distressed, it probably wasn't much of a threat to her anyway.

From what snippets did manage to catch my uninterested ears, there was an upcoming merger of some sort with South Isles Corp, but my charge of course never spoke to me about it, and, as I said, it wasn't any of my concern.

Sven, however, seemed much more interested in the discussion than I was. His eyes followed the sounds of pompous voices when they should have been monitoring and scanning the rest of the room. I glared at the side of his head with disapproval, but he didn't seem to notice.

The day was adhering exactly to the usual routine until after the meeting adjourned. We followed Ms. Arendelle out of the conference room, but instead of making her usual beeline for the elevator, she headed down a separate hallway to her right. A ways down it, I realized that she was heading to her corporate office, a room that she rarely, if ever, used. She swiped her hand over its surface, and the latch unlocked with a click as it read her chip.

She pushed open the door and leveled a stare at Sven, "Stand guard outside."

"Yes ma'am."

He positioned himself by the door as I followed my charge into the window-lit room, the door closing behind me. I stood at the entrance, hands clasped before me, feet apart, on guard and out of her way. She walked to the edge of the stately desk in the room's center, before turning on a raised heel and sitting against the edge of it. She faced me with folded arms and intense blue eyes, locked onto my own like poised throwing knives. I swallowed internally.

"We did not finish our discussion from yesterday."

"Was there more you wished to tell me, Ms. Elsa?"

She fidgeted, her strong gaze suddenly broken along with her mask, as she looked down at her feet and bit her lip in an extremely rare gesture of hesitance, of fear.

"There is nothing that I wish to tell you, only something that I must tell you."

I waited in silence for her to continue, but she did not elaborate. "Ma'am?"

Her brows furrowed, she still hadn't looked up either, "I have...a condition," she began, placing her weight back on her feet and beginning to pace the room. "Though I suppose it would be more apt to call it a curse, from the nature of it..."

She stopped pacing, exhaled wearily, and murmured, "the rumors about the accidents...they're all true, " her eyes flicked up at mine, "but they aren't."

"How do you mean?" I asked, puzzled.

"They did not happen in the way they say, it was all covered up." Her gaze had darkened, and her hands were clenched at her sides, "there were no 'engine failures', no 'faulty wiring', no 'cracked support beams', no 'gas leaks', it was none of that..." Her voice trailed off weakly as her arms gripped each other over her stomach, hugging herself as if she feared she would crack and shatter into pieces. She looked so defeated and vulnerable that I feared she would never speak again.

"What was it, Ms. Elsa?" I coaxed in the most gentle tone I had ever used on the job—the most gentle tone I've ever used with anyone at all. I resisted the urge to take a step forward, fearing that she would just back away from me. She did anyway, as if my prodding had represented the same thing. I noticed she was trembling.

She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, "No...no, I-I shouldn't...I can't tell you," she shrank away further, backed up against the desk again.

I felt myself become overcome with a sudden rise of anger. I stepped forward, "As you, yourself, stated, my place as your bodyguard requires me to ensure both your safety and your health, and that this matter is something I would need to know of to properly do that." I sighed, and continued more calmly, "What really happened, Ms. Elsa?"

She shook her head again, "This was a mistake," she began to pace again, clutching herself even harder, "I should never have said anything...I shouldn't-" she took a deep breath and pressed her hands to her temples and began muttering something to herself continuously, like a mantra.

"With all due respect, Ms. Elsa, I believe it is urgent that you tell me about this."

She was still muttering.

"Ms. Elsa!"

She stiffened and exhaled. Her back straightened, and her hands unclenched and lowered to her sides calmly. She turned slowly, and looked me in the eyes. Hers were cold, like the merciless frigidity of a northern winter storm. Her mask had returned. "We will speak of this no more."

I clenched my teeth, and reluctantly held back my fury as I stared her down, "Yes ma'am."

She held my gaze for another moment before flicking away dismissively and heading for the door, which I opened for her, and then followed her through.

It wasn't until I had re-entered the comparably warmer hall that I realized how deathly cold the office was.