Chapter One: A Series of Doors
[Twenty-one years later…]
With a whining, gurgling creak, the white and blue patterned door at the end of the corridor edged open with a series of painfully slow nudges. Dainty hands, covered with gloves made of worn white leather, appeared clutching the edge of the door as a young woman nervously peered out from her room. The long hall, still cast in azure from pre-dawn light filtering through towering windows, was very much empty. Tilting her head to the side, she closed her eyes and listened…
And was greeted by the silence of morning.
Sucking in a deep breath, Elsa gave the door another push and darted out, a hand wavering on the knob as she rose to her tiptoes and glanced both ways down the hall. No servants, no guards, no friends, no sister.
Even on the morning of her coronation, not a soul would enter the West Wing before the first rays of sun fell across the mountains that surrounded their tiny kingdom. This time of day was hers and hers alone.
And that time is running out. She reminded herself, biting her lip and pushing away from the doorframe.
In a few short hours the palace would be flooded. Townspeople, parliamentary members, representatives and royalty from the neighboring kingdoms, not to mention the multitude of servants and palace guards Parliament insisted be there to provide the utmost comfort for their guests. Likely they were used to living with luxuries and riches the lowly castle of Arendelle couldn't offer.
This would be the last time in a jumbled procession of months that she would be free.
Well, as free as someone like her could ever be.
Elsa twined her fingers together, setting off at a brisk pace, boots soundless across the faded red carpet running the length of the corridor. Keeping to the shadows and grimacing at the creaks and moans that were customary to the old castle.
When she was first locked away, those creaks and moans had haunted her. The palace staff, eight of her parent's most trusted servants, had been firmly instructed never to enter the West Wing; a command easily obeyed. The West Wing was the oldest part of the palace, shrouded, dreary, and rundown. Leaks sprang from the ceiling and odd drafts wafted through the vacant chambers – the latter being no one's fault but her own. Decades had long since passed since had last been in regular use.
It had become a sanctuary that belonged solely to the eldest princess. A prison that came with a forever view of mountains and glorious sunsets that set them ablaze. Where she was sheltered; hidden from the world and its raised brows and prying eyes.
Safe.
Almost.
Anna, Kristoff, and Marius could never accept that she was gone. Separated by a mere key, a bolted door, and Elsa's sheer determination that she would never hurt them again.
As a child, the creaks and moans meant that somebody, probably Marius, had picked the lock and her three dearest friends were running through the twisting maze of corridors that was the West Wing. At first Elsa had found it unnerving to hear laughter flooding the abandoned rooms.
She couldn't remember the last time she'd found it in herself to laugh. Now, she was sure she'd forgotten how.
The creaks and moans turn to pounding and begging as they reached her door.
Anna would ask if she wanted to play any one of the innumerable games that came to her mind. Tag in the gardens, racing bicycles around the halls, swimming in the fjord – it didn't matter how foolhardy it sounded; Anna was up for anything at all. In winter it was always building snowmen, though she always added that it didn't have to be a snowman if Elsa wanted to build something different. Like what about a snow unicorn?
Kristoff, so shy and sweet back then, would leave her little gifts of wildflowers and sparkly stones from the forest, quietly recounting the adventures of his reindeer calf and how much the creature missed her. He even went as far as to promise to let her ride Sven around the gardens, an offer not to be taken lightly, and one that often caused vehement protests to erupt from Anna and Marius.
And Marius…two years her senior, the only son of General Wilhelm Thorn, commander of Arendelle's small, elite army, Marius was hands down the leader of the trio's covert operations. Confident, reckless, charismatic, dauntless, Marius was the kind of boy who sauntered instead of walked, charmed his way into the gruffest of demeanors and had trained the world into eating right from the palm of his hand. Particularly those amongst the female population.
Elsa sighed as a guilty flush flooded her cheeks, and she turned away from the window, not wanting to over analyze the strange expression crossing her face.
The female population indeed.
There was a time when she would have answered their pleas, voice harsh, so foreign she could have sworn it came from someone else. Someone cold and miserable. But when she'd look to the window – as she did now, watching threads of pale gold play along the dark pines leading to the mountains – and glimpsed her own reflection, sharp with angles and pale as the moon, she couldn't deny that person was her. The irony was cruel and bitter. That all her friendships required a door as a mediator. Silence was easier, reminding Elsa that while she was no longer confined to her room, not technically, she was still very much alone.
For as the years passed, slowly, slowly, the schemes to break her from her self-imposed solitary confinement came less often, and the creaks and moans were stifled into silence. Perhaps in the face of failure they had given up. Or maybe the naïve hope of childhood had suddenly lost its luster.
Anna soon made friends among the daughters of Parliament. She was good at that; making friends and keeping them.
Kristoff inherited the position of Royal Stable Master when his adopted grandfather, Josef Bjorgman, grew too old to care for the horses and herd of reindeer.
Marius trained. And trained and trained and trained. For hours, weeks, months, years, she'd watched him from her window. Watched him practice under the cover of darkness, ugly cuts and bruises marring his chest, silent tears reflected in the torchlight.
No one else saw what she did. No one could have. It was her secret to keep and Elsa had long since buried it deep within her heart.
Eventually his training paid off. Three years ago, after his tour of Europe and before their fated trip to the Kingdom of Corona for their niece's wedding, her parents had given Marius the honor of being named her personal bodyguard, despite her pleading not to waste the already strained castle finances on the premise that as heir to the throne, her life could be in mortal peril. But Elsa knew better than to believe that. What her parents really wanted was someone completely loyal to the future queen, someone who wouldn't be "swayed by the whims of Parliament", as Father often put it. And he'd chosen well. Captain Marius Thorn was nothing if not loyal.
That of course didn't change the fact that he had, unintentionally, succeeded in breaking the heart of nearly every girl in Arendelle the previous month with the news of his engagement to Lady Iulia, the beautiful, talented daughter of Prime Minister Fenrir.
Of all the spoiled, selfish, petty, deceitful, gossiping, subjugating –
The temperature of the corridor plummeted with the sudden surge of anger slashing through her mind.
Elsa cringed, biting her lip in admonishment for losing control of her so carefully guarded emotions.
"C-conceal it, don't feel it," her voice trembled, even in its reprimand, barely a wisp. "You have to learn to control yourself. You're not a child anymore who can go run and hide in her room when things don't go her way. You are to be crowned queen today. It's time you started acting like it."
Which could be difficult seeing as Lady Iulia and her father were so easy to ha – No. Not hate. Dislike. A queen should never hate her subjects; she merely preferred some over others.
Such things weren't her concern anyway. Who did she care who Marius married? She didn't. Truly, she didn't. Except as a friend she wanted him to be…well, happy. He, more than anyone, deserved to be happy, and she knew that Lady Iulia did not have it in her shriveled up heart to –
A particularly loud squeak from the wobbly floorboard at the end of the hall made Elsa freeze, partially hidden in the drapery, hand clutching at the delicate silver chain hanging from her neck. She swallowed hard, pressing against the cool window, caught up in the rush of her thoughts
If she was honest with herself, she would have admitted she was absolutely petrified. There was so much that could go wrong today, today of all days.
But that was not acceptable. A queen did not reign cowering in terror of her people. No, a queen must be calm, and poised and controlled. If necessary she was to look pretty on her country's currency. Remember to smile. Above all else she must accept her duty without hesitation. She was strong. She was steady. She was clever. She was brave. Emotionless, save for the love of her people. Even if that love was misplaced.
Even if that love was for a people who would kill her if they ever found out what she really was.
Some people claimed that a girl couldn't keep a secret. Tell a girl a secret, and you tell the town, the old saying went. Surely she would be overcome by the need to gossip, to titter behind gloved hands sooner or later. They would never know how wrong they were. Thirteen years was a long time and Elsa knew more about keeping secrets than anyone.
But this was irrelevant.
So the twisting of her stomach was simply a nervous flutter. This was normal. Anybody would be nervous today. The dull ache at the base of her skull was nothing more than the effects of her insomnia. All those weeks of sleepless nights finally taking their toll. She wasn't a scared little girl hiding behind a curtain in the most deserted corridor of her own palace. She was – she was –
A queen.
A gorgeous, charming, elegant queen. She wasn't wearing the loose, prim day dress, worn and frayed and dyed black the day of her parent's funeral, a color that made her skin look as ghostly a white as phantom spirit. Instead she wore a shimmering gown of pale turquoise, the color of frost on the mountains and winter skies. One that would mesmerize anyone who saw her. She didn't believe in silly prophecies. She wasn't cursed with the powers of winter. No. She was enchanting. She was breathtaking. She was –
Still hiding behind a curtain.
Sighing softly as her fantasy dissolved, Elsa brushed aside the sun bleached drapery and risked a glance up and down the adjacent hall. The only inhabitant was a tiny white mouse with oversized, velveteen ears sitting on a cob webbed candelabrum in a dazed stupor. At one with the spiders. Smiling softly, Elsa shook her head and hurried over to him.
"Rupert," she chastised the creature, scooping him up in her gloved hands and setting him on the ground near the wall. "Don't be foolish. You mustn't come out today. It's too dangerous. Lady Iulia and her ladies-in-waiting will have a fit if they see you – they'll think the entire West Wing is riddled with vermin – and I couldn't bear if any harm came to you because you haven't the sense to stay put."
His whiskered twitched. Looking to the arching window at the end of the passage, Elsa frowned, the familiar feeling of nervousness skittering down her back.
She was running out of time.
"Just hang in there little guy. I'll be back soon," she whispered, backing away. Rupert lifted his fuzzy nose and scampered after her, letting out a high, indignant squeak. Elsa pursed her lips and tried to shoo him off, but he was not to be deterred in his mission.
Finally, with another sigh, she allowed him to crawl into her cupped hands and carefully nestled him in her pocket, where at last he settled contentedly. Rupert was an odd creature, living completely at ease with the presence of humans and seemed to be positively enamored with her.
Unafraid of her witchcraft and sorcery.
But then he was a mouse. Perhaps his mind was too feeble to recognize a monstrosity when he saw it.
Approaching the colossal double doors to the East Wing of the palace, Elsa gave pause, her hand stalled in the pocket where she kept her keys. She braced herself against the torrent of memories that followed every time she entered the opposite halls, and jammed the key into the lock, giving it a violent twist.
Click.
The sharp noise of gears releasing made her jump, and she stalled for a moment before withdrawing the key and jerking the knob to life. Like her own door, the hinges let out a grinding squeal. Elsa's breath hung stagnant in her lungs, heart hammering in her ears. While she could be reasonably sure no one would be traversing the West Wing, due to her orders that no one was to disturb her before eight and the general decrepit state of the halls, the East Wing was an entirely different matter.
Had someone heard the traitorous door?
She'd been told the extra servants and guards would be arriving at seven and it was almost half passed six. Knowing she was being exceeding foolish, but needing this last moment of escape, Elsa ducked through the gap for the first time in three years.
Brows furrowed deep in confusion, Elsa frowned, glanced back at the doors to the West Wing and gave the main hall a double take.
Her first thought was that she didn't know her own palace anymore. She was like a wayward spirit from the Nordic myths she used to read. A phantom that had drifted away from her homeland for so long that when she returned, a millennium had flittered by and everything had changed.
The second was that Parliament clearly expected her to forge a marriage alliance.
Because, qualified as they were, their housekeeper Mrs. Himmler and her eldest daughter Liesel couldn't have possibly remade the threadbare hall runners with ones finely woven with traditional Norwegian designs.
Or repainted the walls to that their red and gold patterns would glow when the polished sconces were lit.
Or replaced the curtains. Once so washed out by centuries of sunlight were now a stately deep crimson held back by braided tassels. The high, arcing ceiling had been scoured of cobwebs. The hardwood floors gleamed and somehow were rid of any scuff marks childhood had trust upon them.
Elsa gingerly made her way down the corridor, taking care not to disturb the finery she was by no means accustomed to. The royal family hadn't always been poor; when her mother was a girl it had been one of the wealthiest kingdoms in Scandinavia. But the eruption of the 1st Karlskro-Arendellise War when Elsa was a baby, and the 2nd Karlskro-Arendellise War when she was barely seven, had struck hard on their economy and everyone but Parliament suffered the damaging effects.
Rupert wriggled in her pocket and when Elsa looked down, she saw he too was admiring all the pretty things.
But pretty things always came a price.
Less than ten years later, relations were still strained with the Swedish kingdom of Karlskrona and Arendelle was in massive debt to the Southern Isles, their strongest monetary ally in the war. The debate in Parliament concerning whom Elsa should appease by marriage had been going on for years.
If she married Prince Lennart Guđbrandr of Karlskrona she would ensure a forever peace treaty. Never again would Arendelle face the threat of war with Sweden.
But if she married Prince Hans Westergærd of the Southern Isles their debt would be cleared. Their economy could finally begin to rebuild. Her people wouldn't be struggling to make it through the long Norwegian winters.
Prince Lennart was next in line for the throne. The extent of her rule would span over two countries.
Prince Hans was thirteenth. He had everything to gain from the alliance and she everything to lose.
Lennart was more than twice her age. Forty-eight to be exact. Rumored to have gotten his sister's lady-in-waiting with child.
Twice.
Though he wisely denied all accusations with the tongue of a natural born liar. Elsa had no idea what he looked like, though the reports from Parliament were by no means flattering.
Hans on the other hand was a mere six years older, devilishly handsome according to Lady Iulia and her 'handmaidens,' and was pure as the noonday sun.
Hence the debate waged on.
Lord Fenrir's missive read that he would inform her when Parliament had come to a decision. That had been two weeks ago. Elsa knew the answer was coming today. Which meant that if the letter came this morning, or worse, when she saw Lord Fenrir at the ball that evening, she'd have only a few short hours, a few short minutes to gather her courage. Because it didn't matter what Parliament decided. It wouldn't have mattered if she had wanted to marry one of the princes, which she didn't. It didn't even matter that her heart had belonged to another for fifteen years, though he would never know. It didn't matter that she longed for children, but would never experience the joy of motherhood. It didn't matter what she wanted.
Her answer to every offer must always be no. She could never marry.
To do so would be suicide.
Suddenly pulled from her thoughts, Elsa's feet faltered in front of a large white door patterned with stylized green leaves and magenta blooms.
For a long moment she simply stared, reaching out to trace the vines, touching the tips of her fingers to the painted wood before jerking her hand away, wishing for the millionth times things were different. She and Anna could have been like the sisters in that nonsensical fairy tale she filled her head with as a little girl. Sisters who were inseparable. Who shared in each other's victories and mourned each other's sorrows. Who stayed up late under the covers whispering secrets and giggling over the boys they liked and scheming to get their attention. Who did each other's hair and borrowed each other's clothes and argued about the most ridiculous things in the world.
"'There was once a poor widow who lived in a cottage'… that's how it went didn't it Rupert?" Elsa murmured, glancing down at the mouse. He cocked his head, watching her expectantly. Elsa raised her brows a little, the corner of her mouth lifting in an almost smile, continuing. "'And in front of the cottage there was a garden wherein stood two rose-trees, one which bore white roses and the other red.
"'She also had two children who were like those two rose-trees, and one was called Snow-white and the other Rose-red. They were good and happy and busy and cheerful, as ever two sisters in the world could be.
"'Only Snow-white was quieter and gentler than Rose-red. Rose-red like nothing better than to run about in the fields, seeking flowers and catching butterflies. But Snow-white sat at home.'" Elsa sank her teeth to her bottom lip, "locked away in her room because she was a sorceress and a danger to her sister."
Fairytales were a collection a lies in pretty packaging. Elsa learned the truth the day she'd so stupidly shown Anna, Kristoff, and Marius her powers. When none of them knew enough to care about that stupid, stupid prophecy.
Princess born with the powers of snow,
Two sisters forsaken, two kingdoms splintered,
Princess born with the powers of light,
Two kingdoms fall to eternal winter...
Hugging her arms around her waist and jerking her gaze away, Elsa turned and walked passed Anna's door without looking back. The looming stress of the day was already dredging up old sentimentalities and memories she'd rather keep hidden. She couldn't change the past and it wasn't wise thinking about all the things she could have done, but didn't when she was already facing the most critical moment of her life.
Elsa move hurriedly through the palace after that. She glided down the grand spiral staircase with quick steps, rails freshly oiled and slick under her gloves.
Anna will be pleased.
Her sister had always loved to slide. To Elsa though… all she could think about was Lord Fenrir's self-satisfied sneer. She didn't stop to admire the new green and violet silk banners bearing the Arendellise crest; a stylized, golden crocus that symbolized strength and perseverance. For if a crocus was strong enough to burst through the frozen ground in the first weeks of spring after being ravaged for months on end of cold, snow, and darkness, how much more could their little kingdom rise to greatness after being ravaged by war and famine?
Nor did she slow her pace as she cut through the hall of paintings, being the shortest route to the ballroom, only able to think about the tradition Parliament would insist she uphold. The one that required her to dance with the respective representatives from the neighboring countries. The thought made her nauseous, not because she didn't like dancing, or didn't know how, or did so poorly. It was because that even through the long sleeves of her mother's coronation gown and the new black gloves she'd purchased for the occasion, she knew they would be able to feel just how cold she was. And just how closely the chill that remained ever circling in her blood resembled that of a corpse. An ever present reminder that there was something not quite right with her.
That she was unnatural.
Elsa grimaced. No, she mustn't let anyone touch her.
"Liesel, that's not fair! I want to be Princess Elsa. You always get to be Princess Elsa!"
Stumbling, hand slapping over her mouth, Elsa whipped her head around, looking for the source of the high-pitched whine. The air grew so cold it practically crackled with ice. She squinted down the dim corridor, pressing into the wall.
"Me too! Me too! Wanna be pwincess Ella too!"
Someone, she thought the first speaker, sighed dramatically.
"Not Ella, Brigitte. Elsa. With an s. And you can't be Elsa. You're not old enough."
"Wanna be pwincess El-LAH!"
"Well, you can't! Liesel please, just this once. I promise to do it right."
The ballroom.
She remembered how voices used to echo there in the early morning… Elsa crept forward, curious, hands running along the wall. The grand double doors were open wide, though the speakers weren't in view. She recognized them now, Disa Himmler's five children.
"No Gisela," a calm, measured voice was replying, Liesel perhaps. "I'm the eldest, so I get to be Elsa. Stefan is Prince Hans. Gisela, you're Anna. Nyamph can –
"Wait, wait? Prince Hans?! Whoa, whoa, whoa, hang on there just a second. I'm not being Prince Hans. I want to be Marius. Then I can hit people with my sword!" A young boy's voice piped into the argument, making swooshing noises that Elsa guessed were supposed to represent the unsheathing and swinging around of said weapon. "Plus he's strong and brave. Who cares about some stupid prince? I bet he doesn't even know how to use a sword. Not like Marius. He gets to protect the princess like a real man! Why should I be Prince Hans?"
"A pwince, a pwince, a pwince." Little Brigitte began to twirl in circles as she sang. "A pwince!"
As she peeked around into the vast expanse of ballroom, still hidden in the shadows, Elsa's bit back a giggle; her lips began to curl in an unexpected –
Wait, why was she smiling?
The tallest of the five children, a pretty girl with dark curly hair gathered under a head kerchief folded her arms across her chest and narrowed her eyes at who was presumably her brother, judging by the ruffled mass of matching brown curls and full, freckled cheeks flushed with indignation.
"Of course the prince can use a sword Stef." Liesel snapped. "He's a prince."
"A pwince!" Chirped the youngest sister, bouncing on her toes.
Rolling her eyes and huffing as if her siblings were the epitome of her troubles, Liesel continued. "You have to be Prince Hans because I'm Princess Elsa and the princess has to dance with the prince because she has to fall in love with him and marry him. She can't dance with Marius because he's in love with Lady Iulia – that's your part Nya, oh would you stop sucking your thumb? It's not ladylike at all." This she aimed at a young girl who possessed large brown eyes not unlike an owl's. "Now everyone stop arguing before Mamma get's here and we won't be able to play."
All this was said in a great rush of air and when she'd finished, a smug smile showed on her face. Elsa couldn't help the sharp breath that left her, though it went unnoticed by the arguing children. The beginnings of her own smile drooped with her shoulders. Was it true? Did Marius…could he –
Of course it's true. They're engaged.
"I don't want to play if I have to be Prince Hansel." Stefan's voice turned nasally, impish glee brimming in his smirk. "And I don't want to dance with you either. Real men don't dance." He declared. A muscle twitched in Liesel's jaw.
"His name is not Hansel! And what about Marius and Kristoff? They know how to dance and you don't say anything about them." Stefan simply shrugged, casually reaching into his pocket and retrieving a glossy red apple. He gave it a toss before catching it in one hand and taking a huge bite with obvious relish, juice dribbling down his chin. Gisela gasped, her chubby cheeks thinning as her jaw dropped.
"Where did you get that?"
"The world will never know." Her brother replied mysteriously around a mouthful of fruit.
"Pwince, pwince, pwince, pwince…"
Elsa pressed her fingers to her lips, trying not to grin.
Stefan looked up at Liesel. "Marius and Kristoff are two exceptions that prove the rule."
"You don't even know what that expression means Stefan!" The eldest sister steamed, hands fisting at her sides. They were toe to toe, faces so close their noses were touching.
"Do too!"
"Do not!"
"Do too!"
"Pwince –"
"Be quiet Brigitte!" Gisela buried her head in Nyamph's shoulder, who stopped sucking her thumb long enough to pat her hair. "You're giving me a headache."
"DO NOT!"
"DO –"
"Children!" Elsa's heart stop for exactly three beats and her fingers once again twined into her necklace, the chain cutting mercilessly into her skin despite her gloves. Her breathing quickened and she stepped back until she smacked into the wall. Why did people find the need to speak so loudly?
Rubbing her bruised hip, she peered back into the ballroom. The plump form of Royal Housekeeper Disa Himmler stood in the opposing threshold, hands on her hips and usual cheerful eyes in slits.
"What is the meaning of this?" Mrs. Himmler fumed, marching forward and yanking her two children apart before any more damage was wrought. They instantly fell into line with the others, sheepishly studying there shoes. She pinched her nose, taking a deep breath. "I ask you to go to the ballroom after breakfast, and wait there quietly so I can issue your final tasks for the day, and what do I find? Four of you making a ruckus, waking half the castle! It's coronation day for heaven's sake and if even one thing is out of place, so help me I'll confine you to the castle until you're all thirty!"
Stefan tentatively raised a finger, perhaps too frightened to raise his full hand. "What Stefan?" Disa said, thoroughly exasperated. The young boy brightened.
"Would we only be confined until we each turned thirty, or when Brigitte turns thirty, cuz that's not very fair if you ask–"
"Stefan Johannes Himmler, you get out of my sight and go help your cousin in the stables this instance!" Disa bellowed, swatting his behind. Cackling, Stefan ran for the double doors. Her double doors. Elsa's eyes went wide and she stumbled backwards and tried to dart into one the spare rooms lining the hall. What if she hurt –
"Who the heck are – Princess Elsa?!"
Heart caught like a stopper in her throat, Elsa slowly turned, drawing in a breath, and offered the gaping boy a practiced smile. Conceal, conceal, conceal.
"Hello, Stefan." She said softly, regally, circling her arms around her waist, tucking her hands under her elbows. The boy continued to stare, his mouth sputtering like a fish out of water. Shifting uncomfortably between her boots, Elsa bit her lip, "I hope I didn't, um –"
"Whoa! Princess Elsa! This is so cool! I can't believe it's you! We were just talking about you!"
"Princess Elsa?" Three voices chimed in unison, and suddenly the corridor was full of four girls staring up at her in what she could only describe as rapt adoration. Disa hurried to the doors, pausing mid-step when her shocked gaze found Elsa's.
"Good lord in heaven child, I barely recognized you. You've been gone for so long." A film of tears caused the housekeeper's eyes to go as bright as her smile. "And now here you are, all grown up, as beautiful as your mother when she was your age. And here I'd been deceived into thinking it was Anna who's grown up looking like the Missus, but it was you all along." Disa placed her hand over her chest, "Bless this heart child; you're the spitting image of an angel. Your parents would have been ever so proud to see you like this. You'll be the belle of the ball tonight. All the young men will be just dying to dance with you."
Elsa's grip around her waist tightened. Those words, those kind, motherly words that she'd longed for, for years were all lies. Her parents would have been horrified at how strong her magic had become in the last three years, the last month. They wouldn't be proud of her, no.
They would fear her even more.
"H-hello Mrs. Himmler, Liesel, Gisela, Nyamph, Brigitte." Her knees shook as she nodded to each girl in turn. The joy that emanated from their glowing faces was almost blinding.
"You know our names!" Grasping Nyamph's hands, Gisela spun the beaming girl in a circle, the two of them giggling uncontrollably. "Princess Elsa knows my name! Princess Elsa knows my name!" She near sang with glee. Elsa resisted the urge to run. How could possibly have this effect on people?
"Gisela," Liesel hissed, dipping into a wobbly curtsy. "It's an honor to meet you Your Highness. Please excuse my –"
"I wuv you Pwincess Ella!" came a voice at her feet, and without warning, two chubby arms where flung around her knees, and a warm face nuzzled into her legs. Elsa went completely still, not daring to breathe, transported back to another time, another place.
Four children, snowy, golden, tawny, strawberry laughing, shrieking, shushing, racing down the moonlit stairs, the darkened halls to reach their destination.
Their special place.
A nimble flick of her fingers, a twirl of her wrists. Snowflakes drift charmingly from the ceiling. A sweep of her arms, a wave of her hands. A familiar misshapen snowman appears.
Golden shyly supplies a crooked carrot.
Tawny draws two lumps of coal from his sleeves, his smile so warm when he looks at her.
The girl with strawberry tails giggles and waves about twin branches.
She crouches behind her creation, grasping the sticks her sister had handed her. Dropping her voice an octave, she gives one a little shake and rumbles,
"Hi I'm Olaf, and I like warm hugs." The younger girl clasps her hands together. Beaming. She rushes forward, throwing her arms out to engulf them both.
"I wuv you Olav!"
Four children, snowy, golden, strawberry, tawny, giggling, whispering, huffing, collapsing around the snowman, arms around each other.
"We'll never leave each other," the eldest declares, looking at her. She grins, a warm fluttery bit in her stomach.
"Never." They all shared in the magic. The warm fluttery bit. "Never." She repeats, gazing back at him with worshipful eyes.
"Not as long as we live."
Gasping, Elsa jerked away from the child's embrace, a hand at her necklace before she'd thought the motion through. The temperature in the corridor was steadily dropping. Ice was encircling her arms beneath her dress. Her shoulders stiffened. Control. Yourself. Elsa.
Mrs. Himmler flushed, stooping down to pick up her youngest, rambling.
"Princess Elsa, I am so sorry. You'll have to forgive the child. She's young and forgets her place. It won't happen again." She gave her child a little shake. "Brigitte, what have I told you about keeping your hands to yourself? That was very inappropriate. What were you think – "
"No." Elsa interrupted her, conjuring up another false smile. The tone of the corridor lightened instantly. "Please, it's not her fault. I… I was merely startled, that's all. No harm done." She lowered her hands until they were once again hidden. "If you'll excuse me I – I need to go."
"Yes, of course Your Highness. You must get ready for your coronation dearie." Disa gave Brigitte a comforting pat before clapping her hands expectantly. "Children, how do you say good-bye to your future queen?"
The younger girls peered at each other in bewilderment. Liesel sighed at her sister's ignorance and gave another sweeping curtsy, this one less shaky than the first.
"Such a pleasure Your Highness."
Stefan dipped at the waist, flourishing one arm in a flamboyant bow. Finally, holding hands with their mother, Gisela, Nyamph, and Brigitte followed in suite.
"It was so nice to meet you Princess Elsa!" Gisela gushed as Elsa turned away. Pausing, she looked back at the children and their frazzled mother.
"It was lovely to meet you too Gisela. Good… good day."
Four paces. Five. Six. She willed herself into taking slow, graceful steps down the remainder of the hallway, despite the nervousness prickling in her chest.
"Princess Elsa?" Not flinching was just one of her many feats of the day thus far. "I think you're the bestest, wonderfulest, most beautifulest princess in the entire world!"
Had she known how to laugh she would have. Instead her mouth parted. A strange noise bubbled up from her throat.
"Gisela, that's enough. I swear you children make enough noise to wake the dead. Show some respect. Now into the ballroom with the lot of you. All of you."
"But you said –"
"All of you Stefan!"
Never had the closing of doors sounded as wonderful as they did now.
Elsa sagged in relief as she turned the corner, retrieving the squirming mouse from her pocket and stroking his ears to calm him from their traumatic experience.
"Shh, Shh," she whispered, giving him a gentle kiss on the nose. "It's alright. We made it."
Rupert sneezed. Pressing her mouth to his fur once more, Elsa slipped him into her pocket, muttering.
"Come on, let's go."
Elsa hastened down the corridor leading to the royal studies. Like everywhere else it was decorated with the almost pretentious frippery and smelled strongly of lye soap. Her posture wilted. There was a time it had smelled of chocolate and krumkake and old, musty books.
Peeking into the spare offices, the doors had been left wide open to air, Elsa was reminded that Parliament expected, at least Lord Fenrir expected, to use the castle as there "means of relation" with Arendelle. It was technically in her power to deny the request, but matters of decorum demanded she do just the opposite. While she didn't overly mind sharing space with Lord Ohm or Lord Næss, the younger, more radical members of Parliament, the thought of seeing Lord Fenrir and his wandering eyes on a day to day basis made her skin crawl with goose bumps.
Finally, finally, passed velvet window settees, under the frescoed ceiling, she reached the stately doors at the end. Fumbling with her key ring, Elsa pressed her trembling lips together. Her throat seemed to constrict and she was suddenly only able to breathe in short, thin gulps. Rupert made a high whistling sound from her pocket. Elsa forced a noise that was on the verge of being a laugh, though it sounded sharp and harsh to her own ears.
"You're right, I'm just being silly. Th-this is ridiculous." She muttered. Casting a wary glance over her shoulder she jammed the key in to the lock, shaking so hard she had to try several times before her grip caught the handle. Then, gently, she pushed.
The doors glided open. Unlike her own and the door to the West Wing, it did so soundlessly, without a single squawk. Her lips dipped into a disappointed frown. Her mother's door had always seemed to whisper. Drawing in a deep breath, Elsa lurched into Queen Idun's study, swiftly shutting the doors behind her.
At least here, Mrs. Himmler and Liesel had left well enough alone, though perhaps a dusting had been conducted over the last three years, a polishing of the enormous bookshelves, a beating out of the Persian carpet, a wiping down of the piano. The deep plum curtains were still worn and sun-bleached. The lavender and violet patterned sofa dotted with tea stains. Deftly she pulled the gloves from her hands, sliding them across the worn, but angel soft brocade. If she pretended, made believe it was Mother who sat at the desk instead of the vacant chair, she could just smell it. The fragrance that always surrounded Mother. Of rose perfume, and lemon cake, and old books, and chocolate candies.
The smell would mingle and entwine around the scent of peppermint sticks, oranges, black ink, and pipe smoke as Father appeared at the door. Mother would pause and look up from her novel, a quiet blush finding her cheeks.
And they would smile like they alone were the only people who existed in the world –
Blossoms of frost unfurled on the indigo carpet like mountain flowers in springtime. Elsa was immediately on her knees scrubbing the ice away with her palms, praying it would dissolve into nothingness. Lacy white bits clung to her sleeves, and she let out a little squeak, rivaling Rupert's dulcet tones, before she broke them away, chanting rapidly under her breathe.
"Conceal-don't-feel-conceal-don't-feel-don't-let-it-show-fear-will-destroy-you-control-it-no-emotions-no-one-can-know." Rupert scrabbled from her pocket as the temperature dropped into something below freezing, squealing as he shot across the scuffed floorboards. Guilty, Elsa looked away. She could have just turned her little friend into a block of solid ice, and for what?
But she'd warned him this would happen. Perhaps he'd finally understand how dangerous she was.
Biting down hard into her lip, Elsa shut her heart away from the memories. She yanked her gloves back on, slowly spinning in a circle, looking for the wardrobe.
There.
She walked to the simple wardrobe at the side of Mother's desk, moved here from her personal chambers on Elsa's orders. Swinging the doors open with a tug, her eyes were drawn the tumbling satin of her mother's coronation gown and robe. Elsa knelt and hugged it to her chest. She dipped her nose into the silky fabric and inhaled deeply, tears gathering in her eyes when she caught the faintest trace of roses.
Releasing the bodice and digging deeper, passed lovely dresses that had gone out of style five years ago, she found it. A small, intricately carved box painted in all shades of purple, her mother's favorite color. Elsa flipped the lid open, nearly dropping the box when a fast paced tune of a village folk song burst into the quiet. Eyes wide, she snapped it shut.
Breathe. It's alright. You were just…startled. Nothing to fear. Nothing to –
A great clanging suddenly filled the palace as chapel clock struck seven. Elsa gasped aloud, bolting upright. In seconds, she'd gathered the dress and robe into her arms, music box and it's treasure bundled between layers of satin.
"Stupid! Stupid, stupid idiot!" She hissed. "Rupert!" A weight clambered up the backs of her skirts, diving into pocket. Sidling around furniture and tripping over a kink in the rug, Elsa threw opens the doors, a split-second overview confirming the passages abandonment. Struggling with her load, Elsa sent a prayer heavenward she wouldn't be discovered – again – and did the most unladylike thing possible in that moment.
She picked up her feet and ran.
[A/N:Welcome to Dawn of the Mother Night (DOTMN): Part One of Five *glances upward* What in the word have I gotten myself into? Madness, I tell you. Madness in its purest form. I already apologized for disappearing on my profile and it's bad posture to continuing doing so, so let's skip that and get to the good stuff. But first, a word to you, oh reader. Thank you kindly for reading. And for those of you who've reviewed, you have my eternal gratitude. Sorry, that was kinda sarcastic wasn't it? Really, I appreciate it. Truly, I do. Anywho, this is specifically to WinterKnight2104. The gods and goddesses mentioned in the prophecy are Heimdall, Dagr, Skadi, Loki, and Frigg (Frigga). Heimdall was the watchmen of the Æsir (Gods from Asgard) and guarded the rainbow bridge that connected the 9 realms. Dagr was the god of day and sunlight. Skadi was the goddess of winter, etc. She was also a giantess who chose to live high up in the mountains instead of with her husband (oh, the irony) Loki was the trickster of the god and powers included magical illusions, etc. Not affiliated with evil, but tends to act in his own interest. Frigg was the wife of Odin. Hope that helps, but research will give you more in-depth answers. And finally, finally, because I'm such a dork, I like compiling lists of songs that give me ideas and inspiration for my stories. I don't know, it makes me feel good to give credit and I have a special place in my heart for making lists. They bring me much, much happiness *beams dreamily*
So this is what I have so far for DOTMN. The list will continue to grow as the story progresses.
The Lost Get Found by Britt Nicole
Diana by One Direction covered by The George Twins (Not particularly fond of the band, but love this cover of the song. The dancer looks like Elsa!)
Demons by Imagine Dragons covered by Boyce Avenue
Start Over by Royal Tailor
Beautiful Ending by Barlow Girl
Never Alone by Barlow Girl
Other Guys by Jonny Diaz (This is basically Marius in a song ;) )
Safe and Sound by Taylor Swift (Personally I enjoyed her music up to the album Red. After that…)
You Belong with Me by Taylor Swift (For that glorious Elsa-Marius-Iulia mess of things)
Ready To Be Myself by David Dunn
Luck by David Dunn (It might be the sappiest love song you've ever heard, but I've been called a hopeless romantic so... Marius again)
You Got Me Good by David Dunn (Sorry. More sappiness. Couldn't resist. Hehe Marius)
The Call by Regina Spektor
Oh My Dear by Tenth Avenue North
Dark Horses by Switchfoot
Rise by Skillet
Whispers in the Dark by Skillet
You Are More by Tenth Avenue North
Healing Begins by Tenth Avenue North
Not Gonna Die by Skillet
I'm done now. I apologize for those of you who thought this was a legit chapter two, but lucky for you, it's just me. Auf Wiedersehen.]