They were always watching.

Elsa could feel their gazes burning holes on her back whenever she made her way down the stairs, as the creaking noise echoed in the big, spacious mansion. But when she looked back, there was nobody, or nothing, but a portrait hanging on the wall. Most of the time she would only shrug it off and walk away, up until that morning.

The way she was abruptly woken up by a pair of cold hands grabbing her ankles, yanking and dragging her out of the bed, away from her husband's warmth and comfort, really stirred something like a curiosity inside her. It wasn't as if she wasn't aware of their presence—she was, but their mere existence had never really bothered her, for she could see them. It's a gift, they said, one that not many possess. When she was just a little girl, their presence often scared her and people would look at her as if she had lost her mind, but as the time passed she got used to it. Only a few people knew about her gift—her late parents, her sister and her brother in law, Anna and Kristoff, and her husband, Hans.

"What's wrong, love?" the deep baritone voice asked, stopping just one step ahead of her.

Elsa tore her gaze from the portrait back to her husband with a small smile, shaking her head slightly. "Nothing. It's just, the painting seems so," she paused, stealing a brief glance, "alive. I've only noticed it just now."

Taking a step to stand beside her, Hans said, "We've heard that quite a lot. Mother, herself, insisted that the painting should preserve the life captured by the painter's eyes. It has to resemble their lives, only that way her and my father's presence could be known in the house, even after their deaths..."

"A day after the painting was finished," she added, before grabbing his arm gently. "I'm sorry, Hans."

"It was a long time ago, I was fifteen." He shrugged.

Elsa squeezed his hand in comfort and understanding, before turning back to the painting, catching an initial at the bottom.

"O.P. 1837."

"Oskar Paulsen, the painter." Hans replied, in which she returned with a nod. "Now let's head down to breakfast."

"Sure."

The couple made their way down the dark corridor which led towards the dining hall. The lack of sunlight in that area of the house gave an eerie vibe straight out of a horror children's book she had seen at the bookstore. Elsa wasn't a fan of horror stories, but then again she wouldn't need another ghost story when she practically lived in one. Though, it hadn't been that bad the past few years.

It was only seven in the morning but it seemed like Hans' brothers and their wives—or most of them had already started breakfast, as the sound of people chattering and the clinking sounds of silverware against the plates could be heard from the hallway. Elsa inhaled, trying to keep her composure calm and neutral. Another day of having to deal with the brothers' uncivilised manner.

Deep down, she couldn't wait to go back to her own manor. Neither she nor Hans liked staying in that chateau, and if it wasn't for the mysterious death of the eldest Westergaard brother, Frans, they wouldn't be there willingly. It had been over a week since the funeral, and maybe they could go home soon. Hopefully.

Approaching the dining hall, Hans halted and turned to say, "I hope they 're not bothering you."

He pressed a kiss on top of her head, and Elsa could sense that he was worried.

"Nah, it's fine," she smiled, "so far, nothing annoys me the way your brothers do."

"Fair enough." Hans grinned. "Anyway, would you like to go riding with me after breakfast? We can have a picnic on the spot by the lake that I told you about."

"Why, husband, you don't have to ask. I'm always up for a date," Elsa replied, winking at him.

Alas, there was always a spoilsport who kept reminding them that they couldn't really have nice things in that house. Jannik, now the oldest, suggested that since the first week of the period of mourning had passed, all brothers should go out shooting, which was Frans' favourite pastime activity, as a tribute. The rest of the brothers didn't even give Hans the chance to reject, and Elsa could only resist her urge to roll her eyes and give her husband's hand a gentle squeeze from her seat next to him. It wasn't the first time his brothers ever ruined their plans, and certainly it wouldn't be the last. Elsa tried to not roll her eyes.

And so, once they had finished the meal, the brothers quickly got ready. Several footmen could be seen passing by the hallway, from the armoury to the front doors. The whole time, the wives—except for Elsa who was making sure Hans had everything packed—were huddling by the window, probably too busy gossiping about other wives who weren't present. By the time the contingent left, Elsa was the only one standing on the steps after bidding them goodbye. She stayed there for a while, savouring the silence, before it was shortly ruined by footsteps that came approaching. Turning back, Elsa was greeted by one of her in-laws.

"Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to join me and Belinda to the salon."

It was Helena Westergaard, brother number 8's wife.

Elsa politely smiled and shook her head. "Thank you for the offer, but I think I'm gonna stay in."

"If you say so," Helena replied, before sharing glances with Belinda, the redhead standing beside her. Not forgetting to flash Elsa her best fake smile, the pair walked away.

Just when she was about to leave, Elsa heard Belinda mutter, "Look at her! She thinks she is all better than us just because she comes from the upper class and most of us don't. Ever since she got here, she hasn't even interacted with any of us. What a snob!"

Elsa frowned, tucking a few strands of platinum blonde hair behind her ear, a habit she did whenever she was nervous or feeling uneasy. Of course it wasn't the reason why she barely interacted with the others. The first time Hans invited her to a family dinner, she had caught words spoken about her, strong judgements with no valid reason and proof given to back them up, and when later on she learned more about their closed mindedness, she knew she shouldn't bother trying.

Shrugging it off, the blonde decided to spend some time in the library. Perhaps she could find a good book to distract herself and find comfort in between the shelves. The thought of exploring the other part of the Westergaard chateau excited her, but little did she know that something waited for her.

The library was huge, but it was dead silent and you could almost hear the sound of pin dropping. It felt as if time stopped and only she was moving. Judging from the dust covered books on the desk by the window, it had been a while since the last time someone did a cleaning. Elsa frowned. How could the estate that's supposedly well managed leave out a particular area unkempt—purposefully or not. Then again, she had seen the dark and damp hallway, so she shouldn't be surprised to see the library being mistreated.

She walked around, hands skimming over the books on one of the shelves. There were books on history, politics, philosophy, but Elsa wasn't in the mood for all that. She wanted to escape from reality into the fantasy world. Perhaps a book about a magical adventure to the underworld, or one with stories about the ancient Norse gods and goddesses-anything to distract herself. Her blue eyes scanned the titles, one book after another, and that was when she heard a loud thump from the other side of the room, making her gasp in shock.

Knowing what kind of visitor she was expecting, Elsa took a deep breath. Conceal, don't freak out. They're probably just curious. After another minute of complete silence, she shrugged it off and continued to browse through the titles, but it didn't take long until she heard three knockings on a wooden surface.

"I can see you, you know," Elsa said, stopping on her track. "I'm not afraid."

"I know," the voice, faint and ghostly, replied, causing the blonde to look back to the direction she came from.

There, by the wooden desk, stood an old looking woman with her skin white as sheets, rays of sunshine going through her barely-there form. A hint of sneer could be seen on her tired face, as she floated in the air towards Elsa, who was frozen on her spot. She looked like the woman in the painting, only this one looked more tired.

"Of all my sons, Hans seems to be the only one who picked a decent bride." The ghost stopped only a few feet away from her. "And she is the only one with the gift many do not possess. The only pair whose fate would be spared."

Tilting her head slightly to the side, she frowned. Spared from what? Are they supposedly cursed or something? But before she could say anything, the ghost added,

"A curse? I'm not sure if I want to use that word to describe it. It's...more than that. But if you stay here for a while, I may tell you about it."

Elsa wanted to believe this ghost of the late Westergaard matriarch, but she was unsure. She had heard stories before about ghosts and spirits having evil intentions and leading the mortals into their doom. Yet there was something about this particular ghost, the one with whom she had the longest conversation. Usually she would ignore them, since most of them were more curious, but this time it was something like a warning that she got.

"How can I believe that you're telling the truth?"

The ghost looked a little offended—if that's even possible. She floated back and forth, before facing her.

"You can't. But I know you want to." She paused. "You see, thanks to my preserved immortality I have been watching over this chateau, and my sons, and their spouses—every single one of them have their own purpose, and I'm afraid some of them are willing to follow in my steps."

"To preserve their lives? To live forever?"

The ghost laughed. "There's no such thing as living forever and being physically immortal. Spirits, ghosts, all of them are eternal, and they don't really need flesh to survive."

No flesh is eternal, only spirits. She had heard about that before.

"However, my dear. Of all my children's spouses, you're the only one marrying into the family without expecting something for your personal gain. Was it love?"

Elsa didn't expect such a question. Deep down, she kinda regretted that one time she laughed at Anna for panicking about meeting her mother in-law. Now that she was in a similar situation, she wanted to quickly end the conversation. As if talking to a ghost wasn't enough to bring her discomfort already.

"Yes, I do love Hans," she declared, smiling softly at the thought of her husband.

"I can see that."

Elsa caught something like fondness and regret on the ghost's face, before she moved away towards the desk and 'took a seat' there. As much as she wanted nothing to do with the ghost, she was still curious. So many questions ran through her mind, waiting for an answer, and who else had the answer if it wasn't this wandering soul.

"The curse that you mentioned, what was that?" She asked, taking a few careful steps further. "You said mine and my husband's lives are about to be spared. What does that mean?"

The ghost of Augusta Westergaard (Elsa finally recalled the name) slowly looked up. "My oldest son has just died, hence why you're here. Have you ever wondered if his death wasn't exactly an accident?" Elsa didn't reply. "It wasn't. Jannik had been planning his murder for a while, and he was willing to do all that so he could gain more money, land, and power."

Elsa was grimacing, not liking the sound of that at all. Of course she had thought about it before, how could a family chef accidentally mistake a bag of arsenic for a bag of sugar? Such a deadly ingredient shouldn't have found its way into the kitchen in the first place, unless someone already put it there.

" Doom will bestow upon those who are greedy. This family is falling apart because they always want more, and they would do anything even as far as getting blood in their hands. You see, greed has been running in this family for generations. I'd seen it in all of my sons, except for one." Surprisingly, the ghost smiled. "All his life, Hans has been tricked into thinking that he is the unluckiest person because he is the thirteenth son— well, was. But he has never been the unlucky one, has he? Now I can see that his luck has guided him to you."

The blonde blushed, before briefly looking away, trying to hide her blushing cheeks. "He said so."

"Do you really want to know the reason why you two would be spared? He isn't my biological son, I'm sure you already know. But the truth is my husband's blood didn't even run in his veins. My cousin got pregnant when she was running away from home. She came to me for help, to stay with her during most of her pregnancy. So I did, and I took the baby to my care when she died."

The blonde was stunned.

"Why did you do that?"

"Pity," Augusta shrugged, sounding unsure. "Then I told my sons that Hans was their father's bastard, an illegitimate child, and my husband didn't even care. I should have told them the truth."

Elsa frowned, feeling sick at the story. Sometimes she found it hard to believe that such wickedness could exist, but it did. Her chest felt so tight as she recalled how unfair the brothers could be towards Hans, which she had unfortunately witnessed. And to hear that it could have been possibly prevented. The more she heard things about this family, the more she was disgusted by them.

"Why, you might wonder. I don't know, jealousy perhaps? I was pressured into an arranged marriage, and somewhat I married into a family whose virtues are greed and lust for power, while my cousin bravely ran away with the love of her life, who ended up killed trying to protect her. She was happier than I ever was."

Shaking her head in disbelief, she then coldly said, "He looked up to you, you know. He used to see you as someone he greatly admired. He told me himself."

"I know."

Elsa scoffed, suddenly angered by the lack of remorse in her response. "But you know what, thank you, Augusta. Now I know for sure that marrying him was one of the best decisions I have ever made." She stormed towards the door, before stopping to look back. "I've said my vows to him on our wedding day, and I mean every word. I will do my best to make him happy. I'll show him how your family has failed him." Without waiting for a response, she walked out of the door.

What a dysfunctional family , Elsa thought once she stepped into the empty corridor. Now, all she needed was to do the right thing, to pack their bags and leave the place as soon as they could. She didn't think she could stand another night staying there after hearing about the family's hidden truths. Just when she arrived upstairs, she realised that the men must have been back. Quickly, she made her way towards the room they were staying in, and without knocking, she pushed the door open.

"Hans?" She gently called. At the sight of her husband, the anger towards his family began to evaporate.

Smiling, Hans walked over to greet her and immediately pulled her into his embrace. Elsa buried her face into his chest, trying to hold back a sob. For some reason, she felt overwhelmed, and only in his arms did she find the comfort she needed. As if he sensed that something was wrong with her, she could feel his kisses on top of her head, and his hand stroking her back. To say that she was grateful to be with him would be an understatement.

"Let's go home, yeah?" He murmured into her hair, nuzzling gently with his nose.

"Yes," she nodded furiously, "please."

"Alright, shh, it's okay."

She slowly pulled away from his embrace, before sitting down on the bed and pulling him with her so he could sit beside her. Once he had settled, Elsa took a deep breath.

"There's something that you need to know," she said.

He placed his fingers under her chin, his thumb brushing against her cheek, before he brushed back some blonde strands and cupped her face. The whole time, his gentle smile didn't seem to fade, and Elsa leaned to his touch.

"I'm all ears, my love."

His reassuring touch had given her more courage, that the only thing she was worried about was how well he would take it. But he deserved to know the truth. He deserved to be happy, to have a loving family, the one that would treat him right and support him.

She loves him, that's for sure, and she's determined to show him how much.