Author's Note: Yeah, yeah, I know. This was supposed to be a oneshot, but I wanted to do something in celebration of sorts for the Frozen DVD coming out. Obviously, it came out the 18th, I was just super slow with this.


Alfred was maybe… five years old when he attended his first funeral. He didn't really remember much about it, only knew that the funeral had been the former Queen of Arendelle's – his grandmother's. She'd died peacefully in her sleep with no apparent complications, and when he and his brother were told, neither of them shed a single tear; Matthew because he thought it unbecoming of a prince to cry before others, and Alfred because he had no concept of death at such an age.

Truthfully, Alfred hadn't felt a single ounce of upset or grief throughout the entire process. His family did an excellent job of keeping any negative emotions hidden during the funeral and in the weeks leading up to it, so with his parents in apparent stability, Alfred himself was content.

It wasn't until the casket was being lowered into the ground that Alfred began to fidget, remembering that what his mother had said about Granny having fallen asleep inside the wooden box. If she were put in the ground, and the men with odd looks on their faces and long sticks continued to put dirt on her, how would she ever wake up?

Alfred did remember that slow building upset in his stomach, how he'd clutched tighter to his mother's black dress despite the fact that she'd told him not to cling. He'd wanted to speak, wail, scream, anything to wake up his granny before she could no longer hear him, but then his older brother grabbed his hand. Mattie was so strong, even then, picking up Alfred's broken pieces as well as his own, and five-year-old Alfred had been consoled in that moment, even if no words were spoken between them. His brother smiled warmly in his direction, and everything was suddenly okay.

So, long story short, Alfred's first funeral hadn't been an especially memorable affair. Sure, the weeks afterward had been long and confusing, riddled with a strange mixture of all different kinds of weather throughout. Mattie would take Alfred out when he started asking where his grandmother was and play in the snow with him. Alfred had thought even nature was mourning the loss of his granny. The sky couldn't even think straight enough to remember that snow didn't belong in summer. Alfred still wasn't quite sure how that even happened. Everything about that year was just… odd.

But then, Alfred never expected that the second funeral he'd attend would take place nearly eleven years after the first, or that the guests of honor would be his parents, or even that there would be no bodies to bury.

He couldn't believe it, didn't understand. His parents went to sea all the time for business in foreign lands. The waters were always tame, welcoming, and Alfred never once considered that the seas he grew up watching from afar would take his parents from him.

They'd only been going to his cousin's wedding in Corona. They should've made it there and back in one piece; but they didn't. The King and Queen of Arendelle were lost at sea, leaving their two teenage sons… two estranged teenage sons, behind.

At the very least, Alfred thought the death of his parents would bring Matthew – a shut in since he was ten years old – out of his room; but he'd been wrong about that. Alfred cried for days after his parents died, unsure of what to do with himself now that the only two members of his family who still talked to him were gone.

The servants did what they could, cooked all his favorite meals and ensured that he never spent more than an hour by himself, but the raw feelings of loneliness and grief were almost too much for the sixteen-year-old to bear.

He didn't want to go to the funeral. He didn't want to hear anyone's condolences, their thoughts on the matter, or their inquiries about how he was fairing; but Alfred was a prince. He didn't have the luxury of a private grieving period, and on a basic, almost primal plane of his being, Alfred wanted to go outside.

And he did. Alfred dressed himself and followed after his nursemaids, Angelique and Emma. He didn't make a sound as they hustled him into a carriage and carted him off to the burial grounds of the royal family. The young prince soaked in every sound, every smell, and when he saw the grieving faces of the villagers they passed, he soaked them in as well, because it had been so long since he interacted with people outside the palace walls.

Everything was too much, a vicious influx of sensory input that left Alfred overwhelmed and subdued. It worried his nursemaids to no end, and they fussed over him more than they normally would have until it was time for the funeral to begin and Alfred had to stand apart.

It wasn't until that moment, when all the fussing stopped and he was suddenly alone amongst the sea of faces with his back to the waters that had taken his parents from him, that Alfred realized he was alone; Matthew hadn't shown up.

Alfred had never considered the fact that his brother would continue to hide away even though their parents' funeral. In fact, the first thought Alfred had when he learned of the accident was that he'd finally have an excuse to see Matthew for the first time in years. Not even such a devastating loss had been able to convince the future King of Arendelle to face his younger brother. Somehow, it hurt far worse than the death of his parents had.

It was the first time in his life that Alfred had to stand on his own. No parents and no brother at his side. He was completely and utterly alone. There were no bodies to bury unlike when his grandmother died, but it didn't stop a fierce wave of panic and nausea from coursing through him. He felt as if he could pass out, and he noticed Angelique and Emma amongst the crowd lurching in their places, as if fighting off the urge to come to his rescue.

He watched them, if only briefly. With no Matthew to distract him, his nursemaids bore the brunt of Alfred's mischievous habits. When his parents were busy with running the kingdom, Angelique would play games with him in the halls, tiring him out so Emma could read stories to him before he fell asleep. They weren't so much nursemaids now that he was older. Honestly, he wasn't quite sure what to call them, only knew that they were present, and Matthew was not.

The part of Alfred still clinging to childhood ached for his brother's presence, wanted to cling to his hand the day he had when they buried their grandmother; but apparently, Matthew loathed him too much now to even consider breathing the same air, let alone hold Alfred's hand and coddle him like a child.

Alfred hadn't been reared for the kingship like Matthew had, but he was still a prince, and he knew how to act accordingly even if he didn't necessarily want to most of the time. So, mindful of Emma's and Angelique's gaze on him, Alfred had held his chin high and somehow managed to keep his tears at bay throughout the entire day.

It was entirely too exhausting, and by the time they returned to the palace, Alfred was almost glad to hear the gates closing soundly behind them. He shrugged Angelique and Emma off immediately, claiming that he needed space, and they allowed him that, though Alfred had a feeling Angelique would've tailed him if only Emma would let her.

They must have assumed he would walk around aimlessly for hours until he came crawling back to his room, but for once, Alfred actually had a set destination in mind. He took his time, walking through the darkened halls that had once made him feel safe. Now they just felt oppressing, like a cage. He used to draw on them, hated them enough to do so even if it made Emma sigh in disappointment and Angelique swear at the ceiling in French.

Alfred tugged at his sleeves, irritated with the scratchy material and desperately wishing for the loose-fitting comfort of his nightclothes, which he knew were probably laid out on his bed by now, just waiting for him. Alfred glanced up fleetingly – he honestly wasn't quite sure if he was going the right way, apprehension, exhaustion, and grief clouding his mind – but he honed in instantly on his brother's door, just to the left of him.

The designs on the painted wood were as familiar to Alfred as the ones on his own door. How often had he sat outside Matthew's room as a kid, just watching and waiting for his best friend to finally, finally make an appearance? Alfred sighed to himself, all too familiar with this overdone routine, and lifted a hand to knock on his brother's door. "Matthew?"

Complete silence. Alfred wasn't quite sure if he was expecting anything different, but he felt as if he deserved at least some sound. "I know you're in there." Usually Alfred would leave at this point, but not today, not after what he'd just been through. "And I know you can hear me."

Alfred could hear voices down the hall, but he knew no one would try to come down this way, not this late at night. The servants brought Matthew his meals everyday and left them outside the door, but other than that, there was no reason for anyone to venture to this part of the palace. He and his parents were the only ones who came consistently for various reasons.

"We had a funeral for Mom and Dad today." Alfred continued, hand still pressed against the door, almost wishing that he could knock the damn thing down and force Matthew to acknowledge him; but he could never do that, no matter how frustrated he felt with his brother most of the time. Matthew had his reasons, and whether Alfred wanted to admit it or not, he knew that he'd done something to make his brother upset. "People asked where you were. I told them you weren't feeling well, but… I don't think they believed me."

Alfred sniffed subconsciously, and any resolve he had to be upset with his brother evaporates when he realized that he was crying. "Everyone's telling me to be strong about this, you know? It's like, just 'cause I'm a prince I can't have human emotions or be upset about this in front of anybody. But Angie and Emma at least act like they understand. Even with their support, I'm still barely holding it together. I was thinking… if I have them, and I'm still struggling, how are you dealing with it?"

It was easier to say those things behind the safety of the door. Sometimes Alfred even forgot that there was a living, breathing person beyond it. He couldn't forget in that moment, however, felt closer to Matthew than he had in years, and it was strange. He'd had one-sided conversations numerous times before, but this time, it felt as if the things he was saying actually mattered.

"They were your parents, too." The tears just kept coming, everything he refused to express during the day bubbling to the surface, and he felt younger than he had in a long time. "You had every right to be there! If you thought you didn't, I mean. It's just us now that they're gone, Matthew. If anyone's going to help us through this, it's going to have to be each other."

After standing for most of the day, Alfred was tired of it, and he chose to sit on the ground in front of the door just as he did when he was younger, pressing his back to the chilled wood. He pulled his knees to his chest, suddenly terrified, because what was he going to do without his parents? He could curb the loneliness brought on by Matthew's physical disappearance by spending time with his mom and dad, but now that they were gone, Alfred had a feeling it was going to be significantly harder.

He wanted Matthew back. Desperately. He missed having a best friend, and while Angelique and Emma were as close as he was going to get, they were adults and his parents' hired help. They stayed by him because it was their job. It was everyone's job in this entire stupid palace to stay with Alfred and take care of him. No one was here of their own volition. No one truly cared. Not even his own brother loved him enough to unlock his door.

Alfred squeezed his eyes shut and wrapped his arms around his knees as a shiver went up his spine. The air wafting out from beneath Matthew's door was freezing, and Alfred briefly wondered if his brother had opened his window, had watched the funeral even from afar. Alfred wanted to go to sleep desperately, but he felt if he got up and left now, that this would be the end, that he would never be able to convince himself to come back, to try again.

There was no point anyway. Matthew wouldn't budge. He'd always been stubborn if nothing else. Regardless, Alfred had to do something. A last ditch effort of sorts. He couldn't keep doing this anyway, sitting around like some lost child when he was sixteen years old; but Matthew must have felt at least some obligation to him, as Alfred's older brother… right?

It could be like when their grandmother died, when Matthew dragged Alfred out of bed, laughing about snowmen while Alfred whined that the sky wasn't even awake, not to mention summer. Matthew always managed to somehow pull off the impossible, and Alfred loved and adored him so much, didn't think there was a thing in the world his big brother couldn't do.

"Mattie… do you wanna build a snowman?"

There were a few moments of tense silence, everything hanging by a single thread, and even though Alfred knew even beforehand that he'd never get an answer, he stayed until the chilling breeze coming from beneath the door made it impossible for him to stay.