"Alright Princess are you ready to get dressed for the day?" Gerda stood at the eight year old princess' doorway smiling as she always had, brown hair pulled into a bun and tucked into her hat. Elsa clasped her already-gloved hands together and pulled off the bed sheet with a shaking hand.

"Thank you Gerda. I'll do it myself," she muttered worried hands and eyes glazed with fear as she pulled on a blue gown and a jacket, which she would grow to love.

Gerda quickly frowned, "Princess Elsa are you sure? It wouldn't be a trouble..." Elsa quickly shook her head, wringing her hands as she walked to the vanity to braid her hair, "I'm quite certain Miss Gerda. I should start doing things by myself more often." The young girl paused and then said, choking back a sob, "You can go now."

And from that day on Elsa got ready for the day ahead alone. Only her gloved fingers plaited her hair. Only her shaking hands pulled on her skirts and jackets and eventually corsets. Only her. Out of fear of hurting them. A fear that wracked her body every day.

Thirteen years later the same platinum blonde princess stood in a room preparing herself for more than just an ordinary day. She pulled on a tight corset, wool petticoats, velvet gowns, and a heavy cape. All with her own hands. As she had done since she was eight. Gloved hands powdered her face and stained her lips. And then, just as she was about to weave her hair into an intricate braided bun, a knock came to the door.

Freezing, Elsa straightened her back and turned to the door, "Yes." The door opened and closed quickly and silently as a woman with grey hair tied in a tight bun tucked into a green hat appeared in the entrance. Curtsying the woman smiled ever so softly, "Your Majesty." Elsa nodded as Gerda rose to her feet.

"Are you ready?" The older women asked, standing beside Elsa, excitement shining through her voice. A sigh slipped out of the Queen to be's lips, "I've read every book. It seems whether I am prepared or not, I do not have a choice." Gerda chuckled, but Elsa bent her head down and stared at her gloves.

A few moments of silence passed until Gerda asked, "Would you like me to braid your hair?" Elsa shook her head and returned to twisting the strands of hair, "Thank you Gerda, I... I can do it myself."

Trembling hands encased in gloves weaved and plaited her hair until another wave of panic overtook her and she had to start over. Fingers braided and rebraided the silky hair. Eventually, the princess dropped her hands and pulled them close to her chest, eyes pinched shut and breath coming at a quick, panicked pace. Then, barely audible, Elsa mumbled "Okay."

Gerda grinned, picking up the brush and smoothing out her hair. "Just like old times, isn't it?"

Elsa meekly shook her head. Gerda had always been gifted with nimble and quick fingers, braiding and twisting the future queen's hair into a braid, and then a knot, in no time. "There all better now, right?" Elsa nodded and looked up at her reflection. Gerda cautiously placed her hands on the girl's shoulders. "You're quite the sight." Elsa whispered no response and instead stared at her reflection. And Gerda noticed, not for the first time, the bags under her eyes, the tension in her shoulders, the strain in her brow, and the stain of last night's tears across her cheeks.

"I have to go now, there is still quite a bit to prepare." Elsa nodded her approval. Then with a reassuring pat on her shoulder Gerda was gone. But not before saying, "You'll make a marvelous queen."

Elsa had to redo her makeup afterwards for fear of it running down her cheeks.

Many more years later Gerda sat, once again, braiding Elsa's hair with the same expert movements as before, despite her frail and wrinkled hands and the shallow look to her face. Yet, she made sure the hair style was pristine, just like the gown Elsa would be wearing in the chapel in just a few hours. Elsa beamed into the mirror, "Just like old times."

Gerda wiped away a tear of joy, "Yes, my dear. Just like old times."