AN: Yeah! I updated just like I promised. I will try my best to keep my updates as constant as possible, but if anything major should pop up, I will let you guys know. For now, everything's smooth sailing! Please enjoy and review, so I can make better chapters for all of you.

Disclaimer: Sadly, I own nothing. *Sniffles*


Chapter 2: Restless

Through the darken air of the closed-off quarters, the swishing of fabric can be heard. The continuous rhythm was accompanied by faint footsteps striking a stone floor. These small disturbances that traveled in the gloomy atmosphere originated from a gorgeous specimen of a woman that paced to and fro across a pitch-black bedroom. Agitation emits itself from every pore on the woman's pacing frame.

You are not ready, are you, dear Elsa?

The anxiousness caused from that single, malicious thought swirled throughout the woman's body until her entire frame was coiled. Her mind was quite nasty as unsettling her peace became a favored hobby to the organ. An ache developed across the contours of her shoulders. Said shoulders rolled unconsciously to relieve the tautness of the muscles and allow her mind to wander away to other matters. For the first time, she seemed to notice the storm clouds from her window, but her mind strayed away towards another trail of thought. She was grateful for the moon's slumber for on this particular night, the restless woman needed as few as distractions as possible. Which probably explained why a perfectly functional fireplace was currently being unused, though the cold did not seem to disturb the woman's stride.

It has arrived once more. War. Hmm… he is impatient to take and disrupt the peaceful lives of my people. Honestly… barely two years into my reign and His Majesty of the Southern Isles is ready to covet the souls residing upon my lands. No matter. Before, I was unprepared and naïve but I'm no longer the good little girl.

During her pacing, she never once tripped or knocked into any furniture despite the non-existent visibility in the room.

I am the Snow Queen of Arendelle. I am ready… I cannot fail… I must not fail.

The confident sentiments accomplish nothing as the young Queen's anxiety is betrayed by her continuous staccato pacing on the floors. As she paces, her tactical mind races to analyze and strategize a victory from the inevitable battle to come.

No men allowed in this battle. There are still many of my citizens who continue to grieve from the grave losses of our last encounter. My golems would make an indestructible ground offensive, so aerial support will not be needed. However, psychological warfare always has its advantages. The frozen forge will trap the ships far from shore.

Steadily, the pacing slows as the strategies continue to create themselves. An upward twitch is made upon the lips of the Queen of Arendelle as her age-old method of calm worked yet again. Strategizing has forever been a balm to the stressed nerves of her body as the act forced her mind from the worst of her imagination. It's no wonder that her favorite game is chess. Outside the stone walls of the castle which housed the woman, a stray gust of wind parted the colorless clouds to allow a single ray of moonlight to filter through. This stream hit the window of the same bedroom where the pale-skinned woman slowed to a walk, thus illuminating the Queen. And truly, the Queen did shine like diamonds.

Her continuing, but calmer pace would have made the thick, white-blond braid sway if not for the hands which held it captive in their grasp. The dainty fingers of a pianist exposed her retreating nerves as they slowly released the braid. The fingers interlaced with one another and settled against the soft silk that covered Elsa's abdomen. The nightdress that clothed the Queen of Arendelle sparkled as the smallest specks of frost caught the light. Her intruding calm made the frost, which formed unconsciously from her earlier anxiety, to shimmer out of existence. The remaining silk nightdress had snowflakes embroidered into the fabric as if to remember their brief attendance in this night.

However, the greatest portrayer of her emotions has been and always will be her eyes. The eyes, which held the clearest specimen of arctic blue ice, staged all of Her Majesty's emotions to the forefront. Queen Elsa has always known that trait to be both a hindrance and a benefit. But she no longer worries as she had already trained herself to close that window to her soul. Being the age of twenty-two, Her Majesty has had many years to practice control. Her etiquette lessons from her childhood days taught her to control her body, but control over the eyes took several years longer to master. Nevertheless, at the end of the 18th winter of her life, she had perfected her mask with much help from the Southern Isles.

Nowadays, only in times of secure privacy could she truly remove the veil without trepidation. The Queen's thoughts now turned towards another route.

Make one wrong move and everyone will know... Yes, Father. I know… it's entirely my fault. I was too naïve with my secret and I've paid gravely for my mistake. I should have paid better attention, but now, you can rest. Now, I can use this exposure as my strength. Control over the very essence of Winter stretches the nerves of even the most battle-tested men.

Unchecked by the Queen, Confidence begins to slither its reach deeper and deeper to construct an illusion of security around her. A smirk curls the edges of the Queen's lips in satisfaction.

I am ready. I am the cold personified. No moral power will be allowed to desolate my kingdom. And this time, the fleet was sighted. With no shadows to hide behind, they'll be crushed in the sunlight. I will not be caught off-guard and they have no power over me. Nothing to surprise me with, nothing to hurt me with.

The last thought summons an unforeseen bolt of pain to rip through her chest. A gasp of shock breathes out of parted lips, as arctic eyes are clamped shut. The Queen's body curls and tenses in on itself as it is blindsided by the sting. Arms that previously were relaxed now wrap around the woman's taut frame, while the fingers dug into the fabric of the nightdress.

Another voice, an older voice, speaks out from the depths of her soul.

Liar…

Then, silence. The position was held by the body and as long moments of time passed, a single thought turned vocal as it was breathed into the emptiness.

"Olaf…," her voice warps slightly to caress the name. Longing and love are sown into every fiber of that lone whisper. Unfortunately, only the surrounding air and a strange, cold mass upon the floor were present to listen. The clouds overhead shift again to block the streaming moonlight, plunging the bedroom once more into darkness.

Ever so slowly, the frame unwinds itself. The spine straightens, knees unlock, and fingers relax. But the head remains bowed to the floor. More silence follows as Queen Elsa remains standing in the center of her gloomy room. After several moments, the head of the Queen rose. On it, her infamous mask currently covers her striking features. The face of a goddess; emotionless in the darkness. As if receiving a cue, she strides to her bedside table. Even in the gloom, her stride is sure as she collects a robe to cover herself. Opening a drawer, she retrieves a wax candle and a box of matches. Striking the match, a gentle flame came to rest on the candle's wick. The flicker of light cast the room into a warm glow that does not last, since she strides out of the room without a backwards glance.

The large mound, that was previously motionless in a gloomy corner, stretched out. Two points of light glowed softly from the mass's head before dimming after a few seconds. A stocky body padded out smoothly on all four and quietly shut the door with a slender tail.

The pace of her walk remains consistent has Elsa noiselessly travels down barren hallways. She barely notices the sliver of ice that marks a trail behind her nor the odd creature which is currently following her. She knows that no one would dare to be up at this late hour and the ice would melt and evaporate before being seen. Instead, her mind's eye is directed to a specific room. A room that she has snuck into countless times before. A room filled with warmth. A room decorated and protected with sunshine.

Taking a right, she comes upon the hallway. The flame flickers as it casts its light upon the surrounding setting.

Providing its light, the flame continues to dance on the wick from the drafts of the empty halls. The Queen does not move. Eyes vague and features ironed out to betray nothing. Vivid golden paint stands out among the glum blues, embellishing the door. Daylight clashes with nightfall. With a deep breath to steel the nerves, Elsa turns the knob, enters, and shuts the door behind her.

The mysterious presence stops before the closed door. With a near silent sniff at the wooden door, it proceeds to curl up to the right of the doorway. It appears almost catlike with its lazy and docile movements as the heavyset frame lies down and a boulder-sized head rests. Awaiting for the Queen's return.

Knowing that someone is currently residing in the room does nothing to repel the emotion that clings to her throat as the figure lying in bed is cast in light. Not the light from the candle, as the rising emotions unconsciously sent frost to snuff out the flame, but from the roaring fire coming beyond the stone hearth. For long moments, the Queen reverts to a statue, simply watching the rise and fall of precious life in the dim lighting. The light also falls upon the writing desk across the room, the wardrobe against the wall, and the carpet along the floor.

The illuminated walls seem to be adorned with the grace of a 4-year-old child. The reason being is that they were. Well…partly.

The walls of the room resembled a cloudless night sky, but the points of light on the canvas were no stars. Taken with a closer eye, countless suns and snowflakes ignited the walls. Suns and snowflakes of all sizes ranged; the largest being the circumference of a large coin and the smallest being the size of a pebble. While the sun's rays were clearly drawn with abandon, the snowflakes' fractals were precise and steady. Their arrangement has no rhyme or rhythm, but the effect of the clashing elements leaves the eyes of any who look upon them mesmerized.

The currently eight-year-old co-artist of this grand creation lies curled in the bed across from where Her Majesty stands rigid, except for the eyes.

While the statue that was Queen Elsa remains immobile, the orbs of ice seemed to have freed themselves from their stagnant state. The gaze travels across the plush sheets, which became tangled from the kicks of the charge they were supposed to conceal. This exposed the silk-clothed shoulders of a raven-haired boy to the eyes of the statue. The shirt was dyed a light blue and complimented the fair skin that the boy possessed. The ebony hair upon his head stood in tuffs, signifying an energetic day. The face was mostly round with the slowly dwindling fat of his childhood. Lips curled into the faintest of smiles, dimples appeared upon the cheeks from the result of his dreamland.

Long ago, she had acknowledged the fact that his smile was her weakness… her pyre… her salvation.

The face of the statue thawed as previously frozen lips upturned. The rest of the immobile woman continued to thaw until Queen Elsa was able to cross the room to where her beloved laid. Setting down the frost-crusted candle on passing the writing desk, she sat upon the sheets; gracefully so not to stir the dreaming child. After a moment of hesitation, she raised her hand and ran slim pianist's fingers through fleece-like hair. Though, the child is unconscious, the smile just barely widens and he shifts his head closer to the touch.

The orbs of ice imbedded in the Queen's sockets melt and calm as her hand continues its journey through the untamed jungle of ink-black hair and across ebony brows. She counts the faint freckles that settle on ivory cheeks. Listens to every breath that passes from a dainty nose. Feels the small organ that pulses in his chest giving life to her beloved.

She matches his beat, closes her eyes, and drifts.

*0*0*

The setting sun's light barely shimmers through the dense cloud cover to travel across the kingdom of Arendelle. Most of the trees had shed their leaves by now, though a stubborn few clung to their branches. The only greenery upon the land lay within the needles of the northern pine forest, which were currently shrouded in the shadow of the barren North Mountain. Sparrow songs drifted through the autumn breeze, carrying the faint tone of frost. The chill had sent the farmers hard at work to collect the remaining harvest, while the trappers were storing furs and skins like mad. The haste came from past experiences of the cruelty of Arendelle's winter.

The stiff breeze whipped the waves of the nearby forge into frenzy. The energized water leaped onto the shore, beating the boulders into the submission of sand. Beyond the feral water's reach, lay the esteemed Castle of Arendelle. Seated in the heart of the relatively small kingdom, the castle was considered the jewel of the land. The stone gave the impression of invincibility, while being carved into immense detail so that the statues and carvings appear to breathe whenever hey were bathed in the Aurora lights.

The entirety of the outside world was lost to the two beings inside a special castle room, decorating the walls with suns and snowflakes.

"Elsa, help me! I can't reach!" The voice, belonging to a four-year-old Prince Olaf of Arendelle, was currently drawing out an undignified whine. The ebony-haired child strained upon his toes with a bowl of gold paint in one hand and the brush in the other. While carrying his tools, he balanced on a chair that was pushed up against a wall. Apparently, the chair was too short for his artistic needs.

A melodious laugh escaped the lips of a seventeen-year-old Princess Elsa of Arendelle as the antics of her younger brother never failed to brighten her mood. She currently wore an apron that covered her dress that had used to belong to an old maid and nanny, Gerda; who was going to retired soon with her husband. Her sleeves were folded up to her elbows and her hair was pinned back in a tight bun. As she finished her snowflake design, she set down her own bowl (filled with bright blue paint) and brush to assist her inspired brother.

"Alright, but this must be the last one for today. We must prepare for bed soon." Laughter tinted her tone as she crossed the room. Taking a moment, her eyes wandered towards the walls and took in the day's work. The smile widened ever so from the sight.

"Okay, I just need to be a little more taller." The young boy felt his older sister's hands tighten around his waist. Before he was granted his wish, Elsa corrected his previous sentence.

"Olaf, it's not 'more taller', it's just 'taller'." And with a soft grunt, she lifts her brother upwards. Her forearms stretch as sinew and muscle are seen working by the indentions displayed on the pale skin to support the weight of the boy. Olaf's head nods to show his attention to her correction, while adding the final rays to a sun that currently gained his focus. Olaf did not fear falling for he always knew that his sister was strong, no matter what anyone else said otherwise.

"Okay, I'm done!" The phrase was heard after a few moments of the child's work. At this assurance, Elsa gently set her brother back onto the chair.

"Now, hurry and change quickly. Mamma and Pappa won't be happy to see you missing on your sleep."

In a flash of night-coloured hair, the boy hopped from the chair, set down his tools, and was searching his wardrobe for his sleepwear. Elsa politely turned her back to her brother to clean after their supplies. The other reason being was that Olaf had proceeded to change while she remained in the room. She shook her head at her brother's quirks as she closed the lids onto jars of paint and stored the brushes away.

"Elsa…," A knowing smile grew across the Princess's cheeks. Automatically, she turned and opened her arms to catch the child jumping towards her; practice is shown by the smoothness of the movement. She proceeded to carry Olaf towards the four-poster bed. She used one arm to pull back the covers while the other held the precious bundle close. Finally tucked into bed, Olaf allowed the first signs of his weariness to show with a small yawn that flashed small, white teeth. Elsa reciprocated the action (but with a lifted hand to cover her own yawn) as an afternoon filled with painting caught up with the exhausted pair.

"Elsa?"

"Hmm?"

"We did a lot today, yeah?"

"Yes, we did. And it should take a couple more days to finish your room."

"How long is a couple?" A soft chuckle is hidden again by a pale hand.

"A couple is two, so two more days."

"So, we be finished before your birthday?" A hopeful look blooms on the young child's face as if the answer held some great importance. Curiosity tickled in the back of Elsa's mind.

"Yes, why do you ask?"

"Because I want to work on your present." The response is loud and proud. Apparently, the little Prince had done everything within his power to keep the present to his nearly eighteen-year-old sister secretive over the past month. He had even sworn certain servants to silence as they helped in hiding the gift from the curious princess. The King and Queen allowed their youngest child this as long as the servants were made clear to supervise the young boy with his plans.

"You know, you still haven't told me what my present is."

"I can't. It's a secret." He whispers it out as if the secretive gift should be kept away from the walls' ears.

"Aww, not even a hint?"

Before he could respond again, a longer yawn interrupts him. His eyelids flutter.

The pale hand began to weave itself with through the dark locks; tempting the boy's eyelids to become increasingly heavy. A familiar hum began to drift its way to the boy's ears as Elsa sung a meaningless tone that never failed to soothe her younger brother. Before Olaf surrendered to the growing urge, he spoke with a slurred voice…

"Night, night… Elsa…," the last words were dissolved into the air as sapphire eyes slid close. Soon, the silent air was accompanied with light snoring. The pale fingers continued their weaving, while arctic eyes melted with adoration of the only precious soul to calm her. She remained by the bedside long into the night. A gentle smile adorns her relaxed features as she was enshrouded by snowflakes and suns.

She is blissfully unaware of Fate's cruel designs.

*0*0*

The same gentle smile now graces the Queen's lips, as the memory sent a glow through her bones. The moment was beyond perfection. With the two beings, bonded by love and blood, both shared that warm memory. Bliss surrounded and cradled them in an impenetrable sphere.

That is until the voice deep within the Queen's mind spoke out.

They can hurt him…

That lone thought summoned the ice into her veins, but not by anger. The temperature of the room falls as fear crawls up her spine. The hand stops its soothing repetition as fear strangles her limbs. The mask returns, so no emotion is betrayed upon her face. However, the two windows to her soul remain wide with fear. After several moments, she regains control. She forces the fear and the cold out and reassures herself. She knows of what needs to be done.

Not possible. They will not be allowed to step onto my shores. History will not repeat itself… No… Not as long as I'm breathing.

The familiar, double-timbered voice echoes once more.

And the message…?

She withdraws her hand, and with a last kiss to her beloved brother's temple, she rises. Elsa snatches the abandoned candle as she exits her younger brother's room; a trail of ice remains from her footsteps. She leaves without a backward glance. So, she doesn't see the ice-crusted carpet or the small shudder that travels through the child's body.

Nor does she see Olaf's concerned, sapphire orbs flutter open to follow her movements as she leaves him in the room that she helped to create all those years ago.


AN: Can anyone guess what was following Elsa? First one to guess correctly gets a cookie! So, until next week, Au revoir.