Guest: I like the idea of having Fredrik appear in one of Elsa's dreams! I'll see what I can do with that.

Once again, please read and review! All feedback is welcome.

Chapter 10:

Four year-old Robert skipped down the hall and rapped his tiny knuckles enthusiastically against the smooth wooden surface, behind which resided a roomful of treasured memories with his favorite person in the world. "Jon, are you in there?"

No response. He knocked harder. When his entreaty fell on deaf ears once again, he began pulling and twisting the doorknob.

Finally, the door swung vigorously into the hallway, nearly knocking Robert onto his back. The little boy eagerly scrambled to his feet, beaming as he beheld the dear brother and friend he had not seen in days. But as Jon opened his mouth to speak, his excitement began to wither.

"What do you want?" the older boy snapped harshly, his blue eyes as cold and hollow as the icy caverns of the North Mountain. His body language betrayed the same calloused indifference, as he stood as stiff as an ice sculpture and made no move to reciprocate his brother's affability.

Robert shrank back timidly, but remained hopeful. "Auntie Anna is taking me to the candy store. Do you wanna come?"

"Not interested." Jon's response was terse and irritated. He began to push the door shut.

Robert quickly planted his foot into the trajectory of the closing door, forcing it back open. "Are you sure?"

The walls were on the verge of splintering, as icy tendrils began etching into the polished wood, stressing the material beyond its limits. "Yes! And don't ask again." Jon spun on his heels without another word.

Now the little boy was completely confused. Jon had never turned down a chance to get his hands on some candy. In fact, one of their favorite "games" was to sneak into the kitchens late at night to plunder its stash of delectable sweets, battling Kai in an epic game of cat-and-mouse. It was a family tradition that Mommy and Auntie Anna had established many years ago, and the boys were all too eager to keep it alive. Perhaps his big brother wasn't feeling well, or was simply having a bad day.

Robbie tried once more. "Do you wanna go sledding tomorrow?"

"No!" Jon shouted furiously, as ice swirled about the room with frenzied turbulence. His eyes were bloodshot and murderous. "Now go away!" The crown prince vigorously slammed the door shut, nearly crushing Robert's chubby little fingers in the treacherous crack between the hinges.

"Okay… bye," the four year-old whispered sadly. He walked away with his head down, hugging himself as tears slithered down his cheeks and dripped onto the floor. Confusion and disappointment clouded his mind. What did he do wrong? What on earth could he have done to make Big Brother so angry with him?

And don't come back, Jon thought savagely. The indignation was overwhelming. Just listen to the offhandedness in Robert's tone, and the sheer frivolity of his requests! He didn't seem to notice or care at all that Daddy was never coming back. All he could think about was his own gluttony, self-centeredness, and insistence on getting his way no matter who or what was jeopardized. How could Robert be so oblivious and self-absorbed? How could he be thinking about having fun in a time like this?

A gust of rage consumed his entire body, as ice tingled at his fingertips, demanding release. The young prince drew back both hands and thrust them forward, shattering a mirror with a massive torrent of ice. Thoroughly spent and exhausted, Jon collapsed on his bed in a fit of angry tears.

A month had passed since Fredrik's death. Jon's angry outbursts only continued to monotonically increase in frequency and intensity. He was constantly rude and aggressive towards everyone, with his mother being a partial exception. His icy magic also flared out of control on a regular basis, but it was the nature of these episodes that was most disconcerting. Whenever Elsa was upset or stressed out in her childhood, clouds of snow and ice would swirl about her vicinity in a chaotic but largely random configuration. Jon's had a distinctly belligerent and offensive nature, and would often cause injury in addition to mere messiness.

One Sunday afternoon, Jon was stalking to his room after lunch. As he marched precipitously along the hallways, he accidentally walked straight into a maid carrying a basket of freshly folded laundry.

"Get out of my way, you fat ugly pig!" he barked angrily. The maid hastily stepped back, bowing and offering profuse words of apology to the crown prince. But Jon was having a bad day, and she would become the unfortunate recipient of his misplaced anger. He ripped the basket out of her hands and tossed it down the staircase, rendering her hard work completely worthless.

A savage sense of vindication and power surged through his veins. "Do you want to go to the dungeons?" he snapped, swirling his hands about menacingly. The terrified woman shook her head vigorously.

"Then clean it up!" Jon summoned a gust of icy wind to again knock the basket from her hands. He gave her his most vicious smirk before vanishing into his room and slamming the door with a loud, cacophonous boom. The poor maid scrambled to pick up the chaotic mess of towels, tablecloths, and clothing strewn all over the burgundy carpet.

Elsa had witnessed the interaction from the door of her study. She fought back tears of anguish at the bitterness and vitriol that permeated Jon's once-angelic voice. How had her baby become a bully? Where was the sweet, innocent child she loved so dearly? With a weary sigh, she set down the document she was working on, and stepped quietly into the hallway. She whispered some heartfelt words of apology to the maid and slipped a few extra coins into her hand. Then she went to inform Anna of what had happened.

"Jon needs some discipline. He can't keep treating people this way. Yesterday he spat in Kai's face because he didn't get the brand of chocolate he wanted." The Snow Queen hated giving out punishments, especially to her own children. But drastic preventative measures were needed to rein in Jon's misbehavior, and unfortunately, only she had the authority to discipline the young prince.

Anna winced at the grim determination in her sister's voice. "The poor boy lost his father. Isn't that enough punishment already? Don't you think we should cut him some slack?"

Elsa shook her head. "Don't forget, we lost our parents too. Both of them, not just one. Jon will keep using this as a license, especially if he knows that we're making excuses for him."

Anna's bright turquoise eyes shone with concern. "But we were much older when Mama and Papa died. Jon is only eight. Maybe he's still struggling to make sense what happened, and this is only a temporary phase. Promise you won't be too hard on him. Right now he needs your love… much more than he needs to be taught a lesson."

At these words, Elsa softened. Her nurturing instincts as a big sister and mother prevailed over her sense of fairness as a ruler. "I promise."

A soft, somber knock on the door caught Jon's attention. Earlier that day, Robert had asked him to build a snowman after his umpteenth demand to be left in peace. His anger flared to life. In fact, it was this very same mentality of doing whatever he wanted and refusing to listen, with no regard for others —a mindset so characteristic of Robbie—that led to Daddy's death!

The child stomped across the room and jerked the door open. "I've told you a million times not to come back!" Jon screamed with such force and ferocity, he could feel his throat tear. Without thinking, he raised his hands and fired a volley of icicles at the target of his aggravation, wanting this oblivious idiot—whoever he or she was—to taste just a tiny part of the horror that ravaged his insides.

Elsa quickly held up a hand to deflect the blow. The boy calmed down at the sight of his mother. The anger receded slightly from his eyes, but his posture remained confrontational, and his tone as scathing as an eight year-old could manage. "You're here to punish me for being mean to poor innocent Robbie, aren't you? Did I hurt his little feelings?"

"I'm not here to punish you, snowflake. I just want to give you a hug." Elsa knelt down slowly and held out her arms. Bit by bit, Jon's resistance vanished. His defiance melted away to reveal what truly lay behind that ruthless, uncaring façade: a hurt and frightened child. An eight year-old boy whose perfect world had been thrown into complete and utter disarray. He threw himself into his mother's arms, and was gathered in.

For five minutes, not a word was uttered. Elsa patted Jon soothingly on the back, her heart breaking as he sobbed into her shoulder.

"I miss Daddy too, sweetie."

"This is all Robert's fault!" Jon screamed through his tears. Clouds of snow and ice swirled through the air. "I hate him! I wish he died instead!"

Those words were like a dull dagger through the heart. Elsa chose her words carefully, wanting to make Jon feel loved and supported, without condoning his unilateral condemnation of his little brother. Emotions were fragile, and one poorly-chosen word could destroy what tenuous bonds there were left in their family. "Daddy loved you so much, snowflake. I know he would have done the same for you. Mommy would too…" Fighting back tears, she continued, "No matter what happens, I will never stop loving you. Always remember that."

"Jon, I know you're angry with your brother. You don't have to play with Robbie or talk to him. But I plead with you not to hate your brother. We're a family… If we break apart, we have nothing left."

Elsa stopped to think. Jon's outburst must have been set off by Robert asking him to play earlier. The younger boy's lighthearted attitude must have been misconstrued as a sign of indifference to their father's death. "Sometimes it might seem as if Robbie doesn't really care about what happened. He might seem insensitive or oblivious at times. But one day when he is older, he will understand. When the time comes, I know he will miss Daddy every bit as much as you do."

Jon fired another blast of ice across the room, nearly impaling his mother through the hand. "Who's side are you on, anyways?"

"I'm not on anyone's side," Elsa patiently explained. "All I'm saying is—

"If Robbie didn't run off on his own, Daddy would still be alive! I hate him! He is not my brother!"

Once again, Elsa wanted to point out that Robert wasn't the only one guilty of misbehavior that day. All three children had left the campsite without supervision, after they were specifically instructed not to. But it would be pointless to try and convince Jon that his anger was not fully justified. It would only further his feelings of resentment, if it appeared that his mother was taking sides and negating his thoughts.

There was nothing left to be said. Elsa sat silently on the bed, holding Jon in her arms and rocking him as if he were an infant again, until the boy fell into an exhausted slumber.

Apologies for the delay in posting! As you can tell, writing family interactions is not my forte!