Night was falling.

The swirling, sumptuous clouds that dominated the sky darkened perceptibly, only a sliver of fading blue visible in the distance, a sparse reminder of the summer that existed far outside the kingdom of Arendelle. Pristine, glistening snow coated the mountainous landscape, stark against the clamorous sky overhead. The harsh bite of the wind had increased, snowflakes being propelled like frozen projectiles.

It was cold.

Erin Godal, Royal Guardsman, shivered under his teal-colored cloak. The storm just seemed to be getting worse. The journey up to the North Mountain had taken nearly all-day, the all-volunteer rescue party led by Prince Hans finally having reached the peak. It had been difficult, their passage hindered the entire way by the elements of nature, which seemed determined to keep them away.

The blond-haired teen looked over his shoulder, observing the path they had forged between the snow-drenched mountains and frost-ridden forest. They had passed by the last settlement some three hours ago.

It was the farthest he'd been from home.

A noble mission was the last thing on his mind, the day after the Queen had brought winter to them so early in the year. Erin, like the rest of his company, had been busy helping the residents in town winterize in an abnormally short time.

He didn't feel a shred of hesitation when he raised his hand at the Prince's request for volunteers: his youthful patriotism was often the cause of teasing from his fellow soldiers, though he knew that beneath the joking and camaraderie they all shared a deep pride in Arendelle, the land of Fjords. Him and six other Guardsmen, plus the two volunteers from Weselton, saddled up and followed the man Princess Anna had left in command.

After endless comments on the weather and the unusual mix of banter and complaining, the others in his party grew silent, their horses slowing as their riders were captivated by the sight before them.

Brilliant and teal, a stupendously grand ice castle stood, sharp against the white snow and near-black colored rock that made up the mountain. The small amount of sunlight still visible was reflected off the walls and steeples, resulting in an impeccable sheen, innumerable shades of color shining and sparkling. It was massive, rising hundreds of feet in the air, easily the tallest structure any of them had surely seen.

If he didn't know better, he'd say it was a piece of Heaven that had fallen from the sky. Beautiful to look at, impossible to look away from. It felt strange, knowing that their Queen was the one responsible for this otherworldly, resplendent beauty, yet was equally to blame for the terrible weather.

Erin had been off-duty at the time, but he'd heard a litany of rumors about what had happened the night of the Queen's coronation; it was hard to separate the truth from fiction. He wanted to believe that it was an accident, which was an opinion most of the Guards shared, but he wished to see for himself what state the so recently crowned Monarch was in.

His father had spoken highly of Queen Elsa's parents, assuring him it would be a privilege to serve under her in the Arendelle Royal Guard. And it had been: steady, surprisingly safe work in the castle, a hybrid of military style patrols and training with assignments and tasks that benefited the infrastructure and residents of the town.

Though his interactions with the Royal Family were rather few. Unlike her sister, he had only seen Elsa twice, and both times were from the other end of an empty hallway.

At the time, she seemed like the least-threatening person in the castle…

But no one could have imagined she possessed powerful, weather-altering magic.

Bitingly cold magic, the aching of his muscles and numbness of his cheeks an incessant reminder of that fact. No one alive had seen so sudden a change in seasons, the summer having all but evaporated into the rapidly all-encompassing winter chill.

Their group cautiously dismounted, the Prince looking towards them as he issued his orders.

"We are here to find Princess Anna. Be on your guard, but no harm is to come to the Queen."

For the Guardsmen, Erin felt the latter statement was unnecessary, but…

He glanced over at the two men from Weselton; on the surface, they appeared hardy, perhaps a bit cruel, but in Erin's mind they needed all the manpower they could get, for whatever it was that they would face in the unforgiving weather.

A part of him hoped that their presence would convince Her Majesty to return to the throne, if her actions were in fact accidental. If nothing else, they could at least guarantee the safety of Princess Anna, once they'd found her.

It'd been just over a year since he had enlisted at the age of eighteen; in that time he'd caught quite a few glimpses of the radiant princess, and even once engaged in conversation with her, at her insistence. It was fleeting, but that was enough to earn his devotion for life.

Well, perhaps that was an exaggeration. There was something irresistibly charming about the way she carried herself, though.

Erin and the others followed Prince Hans as he approached the staircase, the wind having quieted somewhat in the time they'd been on the peak.

Hopefully, both Royals were inside the ice palace, and they'd-

-There was something in the snow.

"Woah-"

"Look out!"

That something turned out to be a great monstrosity, a snow-creature constructed from the pure elements of winter, rising up like a fiendish creature from Hell. It issued a thunderous roar from its gaping, snowy maw, the sight filling Erin with adrenaline, mixing with fear and bravado in an invigorating blend. He drew his sword and raised his shield, bashing his weapon against the Arendellic symbol on the front of the shield. The sound was comforting, almost enough to set his mind at ease, were it not for the menacing beast raging at them.

Their small party rallied and attacked, the sharp whistle of crossbow bolts and thrown spears ringing through the air, the projectiles slicing into the monster's arm with little resistance, and even littler effect.

In response, the snow-beast swung it's massive arm, sending several men flying into the snow.

Erin had barely jumped out of the way, but now the beast fixed it's soulless eyes on him. It moved towards him, forcing him to quickly scamper out of the way.

An oversized icy foot slammed down right where he had been standing, his breath stolen away as he rose unsteadily back to his feet, having rolled to the side when he saw it's leg rear upwards.

Two Guardsmen charged, swinging their swords in an attempt to cut down it's legs, only to get sent flying back by another crash of its arm. Erin juggled his weight between his feet, looking for an opening, when Prince Hans suddenly lept forward, and with a fearsome yell severed the beast's left leg. The monster fell, crying out as the Prince rushed behind it, who was waving them forward with his sword in the air.

"Come on!"

The rest began to follow, when an errant swipe of the creature's claws barely caught the Prince, fracturing part of the stairway as it fell into the abyss, It's wailing bellow echoing off the mountainside.

Prince Hans, who had nearly been dragged down with the monster, was hanging from the broken stairs, his gloves straining to find purchase on the ice. As two nearby guards rushed to help the dangling Prince, Erin swept his eyes over the battlefield; no one appeared injured, which was very fortunate, but…

Where were the two from Weselton?

His eyes were drawn to the open palace doors, at the same time as a strange noise sounded from the balcony high above. Finally catching on, Erin ran to catch up with his fellows, his eyes drawn upwards by the sheer grandeur of the castle, which seemed to tower over them. It's immense size almost caused him to trip on the stairs, a steady hand and gruff voice landing on his shoulder as he regained his balance.

"Watch your feet, lad."

It was the unmistakable grovely tone of Sergeant Gaunt, which would normally be a signal of impending doom: but now, it was almost comforting, given the circumstances.

Erin quickly passed through the open doors, the rest piling in behind him. If the outside of the palace was near indescribable, the interior was something else entirely. Certainly greater than any chapel he had ever seen, let alone heard of: but alas, they had no time to admire. The Prince quickly overtook them, waving them on with puffs of visible air streaming from his nostrils. They all crowded onto the grandiose staircase leading upwards, the clacking thud of their boots producing a steady cadence.

There was a tangible feeling of foreboding in the air; as if on cue, screams echoed down the immaculate staircase. Erin's vision darkened, a veil of night falling inside the sculpted fortress. The purple and blue hues were fading away, replaced by a violent and deep crimson. Though he was with seven other men, he suddenly felt alone, rushing up to a raucous din of sounds that could have only existed in a nightmare. Reluctance threaded through the blonde's steps, his mind running through a litany of excuses to stop: to turn around and flee.

But whatever was happening, it was their duty to stop it.

His chest heaved as his heart pounded, a cloud of steamy air forming around them as they pressed on. There was an abrupt noise, accompanied by the shaking of the earth, not unlike a thunderclap of lightning: a boom thudded in his chest, at the same time as vibrations resounded throughout the ice.

The Prince's pace slowed noticeably.

There was a distinct pressure in the air, like the downward thrust of unseen water surrounding them. Bubbling, and boiling, building up to an unknown ending.

A feeling, which Erin could only assume to dread, began to cloud his mind. Sweat dripped down the small of his back, even in the blistering cold. He could hear the others muttering under their breath as they ran, though their words were lost to him in the increasingly thick atmosphere.

A distinct odor wafted through the air…

It smelled like iron.

They'd reached the top of the stairs, and after squaring his shoulders, Hans approached the closed doors. They were colored a distinct shade of maroon. The wind outside had ceased. It was quiet.

With gloved hands on either door, he pushed them open.

The scene before them…

Erin froze.

There was blood.

Everywhere.

The floor… The walls… The ceiling…

Everything was painted in red.

His focus was immediately drawn to the overpowering presence on the other side of the room, for there stood Queen Elsa; with bright, freshly shed blood splattered across her upright body. Her left arm was extended in front of her, hovering over the bodies at her feet as she looked down at them.

Erin's eyes dashed everywhere, trying to comprehend what he was seeing.

The Queen exuded a fury that defied the natural order: clothed in a lightish colored dress, the exact hue hard to tell in the dim light: The visible strip of sky behind her was gold, the rest covered in charcoal-colored clouds: the very ice in the room itself had turned red: the chandelier overhead glowed ominously: in the center of it all were massive stained icicles rising from the floor, sharper than any blade he had seen, and the bodies skewered on them.

It was a despondent sight.

He knew who they had to have been, yet they were entirely unrecognizable. Erin averted his eyes; the amount of blood spilled was far beyond what any man could survive.

"Queen Elsa…" Hans ventured, his voice uncertain and near wavering, his stance emulating a bravery Erin doubted any of them felt. No one else spoke; words seemed like an alien concept.

The Queen's cobalt eyes shone unnaturally, fearsomely glowering in the encroaching darkness, a sight from something beyond the limits of their understanding made reality. Immutable shadows hung beneath her eyes. Her brows were drawn together, pale lips pressed into a thin line.

Goosebumps ran wild over the young Guardsman's skin, some inner instinct screaming at him to bolt and run: for all the good it would do.

"I told you…"

Her emotionless voice was soft, almost a whisper; the voice of a kitten in the shape of a lion.

Erin couldn't stop the shivers that racked his body.

Yet his body was warm.

"Stay away."

Cold. It was supposed to be cold. He shivered again.

His lungs felt like they had been set ablaze.

No one else moved; they stood dumbstruck, as cattle herded before the slaughter.

Queen Elsa's hand slowly raised, beckoning forth ethereal power at her fingertips as she glared down at them, the very image of a vengeful angel. Her now brightly-shining, nearly blinding eyes searched them, as if they were beneath contempt.

Nothing about this was right.

They'd come to help her?

Hadn't they?

Erin felt confusion wash over him.

But she didn't need help. Their Queen, who was…

What even was she anymore…?

Her blue eyes suddenly found his, and Erin knew true fear.

Tired. She was tired.

No, that was not nearly adequate enough.

She was utterly exhausted.

Elsa Árnadalr, newly crowned Queen of Arendelle, was wrought with worry, her dear sister's recent words still echoing in the dim of her mind. The clacking of her magically-created heels reverberated around the palace, at an ever-increasing pace.

Deep, deep snow.

Her sister had never been safe with her around. And now her people weren't safe, even after secluding herself upon the mountaintop. She couldn't get far enough.

The seemingly depthless pit in her gut gnawed endlessly at her; she had not eaten anything of substance since the wretched coronation, and snow was not nearly enough to abate her hunger. Yet all the protesting of her stomach was but a dim chorus, compared to the raging cacophony of thoughts in her mind, imbued with endless duet of fear and guilt. Further adding to the barrage of noise, weariness and fatigue were constantly singing together, crooning throughout her muscles and bones.

Elsa would have been shocked that she was still standing, let alone awake, had she given her health any thought.

She hadn't.

She stormed out to the balcony, taking in the increasingly repetitious view. The massive golem she had made earlier to dissuade her sister had taken up post by the foot of the stairs. The fact that she could create life with a wave of her hand still made her head ache: like so many other concerning things, she shoved the thoughts and implications out of her mind. Just one of many problems for later.

Cobalt eyes searched for something new. The sky was darkening, even beyond the raging storm.

Night was falling. And… There was something approaching. A party of soldiers, it looked like. So, her reckoning had come. Running away from the throne on the day of her coronation certainly couldn't have endured herself to Arendelle, or the many dignitaries in attendance. Hardly Queen-like behavior…

But it was better this way.

So Elsa told herself, a new mantra added to the ones that had been engraved into her psyche. Her sister would be better for the throne, anyway.

(Was her sister even alright…?)

She could only hope.

The party stopped, dismounted and cautiously approached, wary but apparently not aware of the lurking guardian in front of them.

She stalked away from the balcony back to the interior, hoping the Golem would be enough to encourage them to stay away. If they came up here… Who knew what would happen.

The sounds of fighting were carried over the wind, a fearsome, inhuman roar accompanying them.

The noise was unsettling. Yet she had created it…

What were the limits?

Boots rambled up the staircase, the intruders apparently in quite the rush to get to her. In response, she turned to face the doors, her hands raised in a placating manner for whoever it was on the other side.

They had to leave.

The gold-tinted doors banged open, and two red-cloaked men barged in, crossbows already up and aimed towards her.

So they weren't Royal Guardsmen, Elsa observed almost spitefully.

"Please, don't!" Her voice sounded uneven, almost hoarse, fingers splayed non-threateningly in front of her. They moved in, narrowed eyes focused unerringly on her. Weren't they going to say anything?

Her eyes darted back and forth, following them as they spread out, ignoring her pleas.

A sudden motion startled her, causing her to duck her head and draw back her hands. It was a cross bolt firing, she realized a second later. Cautiously opening her eyes, she looked for where it had gone, only to see the tip suspended mere inches from her face, trapped in ice.

A killshot.

Her heart thundered, rare heat blooming in her chest. Her magic had saved her. She barely noticed the quivering in her hands, mind working overtime trying to understand what was happening. Her attackers moved as a team, shouting encouragement to each other and repositioning for the next shot.

"Stay away!" She fired off a half-hearted blast of ice, causing one of the men to roll out of the way. The other was nearly in position, a new bolt replacing the one he had fired. She had already backed up to the balcony doors. That one single moment seemed to stretch on, her vision sharpening into perfect focus. The previous grandeur of the room suddenly seemed suffocating. Confining.

A prison of her own making.

Her mind surged with an endless slew of thoughts; none of them touched the concept of mercy. They were trying to kill her. They had ignored the warnings, invaded her home. They had cornered her, like hunters in the wild.

Elsa suddenly felt as if she were in a dream, sluggishly out of control, an observer to her own subconscious id. Slipping into instinct.

Something inside the Queen snapped.

The flagging cry of desperation fell away, replaced by a comforting sense of vindication. She could hear it as an orchestra rousing in her veins, pulsating throughout the castle and all that she had made.

The doors to the stairs closed by themselves.

Her hand waved, and a spear of ice pierced through the man's crossbow and right arm.

He cried out as she turned her attention to the other, who had recovered from her previous feint and was kneeling, sweat streaming down his face as he aimed for her heart.

She could sense his fear.

Another wave of her fingers, and both his hands and weapon were sliced apart, jagged ice rising from the floor and forcing him into a bloody fall backwards.

Elsa's teeth grinded together, her gums aching. She wasn't finished with them.

She turned back to the first one, observing him as he awkwardly drew a dagger with his left arm, his right hanging limp with a three-foot ice spear still embedded in it.

He roared at her, spittle flying out as he charged.

Elsa twisted the fingers she had pointed at him; many dagger-sized icicles suddenly dropped down from the ceiling and shot up from the floor, cutting straight through his tattered clothes and sending him in a bloody, moaning heap to the ground.

Her head swiveled mechanically back to the other.

He was staggering as he attempted to stand, his eyes piercing her with hatred even as his body trembled. His shredded hands were useless. He had nothing but his anger to attack her with. Still, he did not relent.

Her forehead was throbbing.

She clinically reached her right arm out, and pulled it back, taking the cold winter air surrounding him and in his lungs, ripping it back to her. He choked, and gasped, his chest making strange noises as scarlet liquid shot profusely from his mouth and nose.

There was a distinct ringing in her ears.

Her attackers were howling and yelling, the distinct sound of wailing panic and whimpering despair crashing through the air; only to fall upon the deaf ears of the Queen. Still, they were not dead yet.

Elsa's eyes shone.

Something stirred deep within the castle, it's very foundation groaning under the weight of its creator's animalistic fervor. There was a tremendous swell of white-blue magic; then the eardrum-shattering crack of ice, and the screams were finally silenced.

There was a sound, gentle and serene, not unlike water dripping from a faucet, splashing into a bowl.

Elsa opened her eyes.

(When had she closed them…?)

Blue irises sought what she had done, and only found red.

The smell was overwhelming.

Her stomach seized, but there was nothing within it to throw back up; so she dry heaved.

Agony rippled through her nervous system, her arms clutching her sides as she nearly keeled over, until the feeling passed. Her vision swam before her, the blurry mess gradually sharpening into a reality she did not wish to see.

The bodies… Her victims.

She had killed them.

And yet she felt… Nothing.

Numb.

Pale fingers rifled through her hair, doting her platinum blonde strands with spikes of red. Fingernails dug into her scalp, the dampness soaking into her skin. With a grip bordering on desperate, she nearly tore her own hair out, searching fruitlessly for guilt, anguish, even anxiety, any feeling at all other than the utter blankness coating her mind. There was nothing, and it was too much.

Her hands were drenched in blood. It was everywhere.

It was fucking everywhere.

"No… Please…" A whisper cried, a voice she did not recognize dripping from her sordid lips.

"Just… Stay away."

(Who was she even speaking to?)

Queen Elsa's gaze turned towards the ceiling, searching for visual respite. The very color of the ice palace had changed, the vibrant, lively red influenced by her magic seemingly mocking her.

Dryness stung her eyes. Unease crawled under her skin, making her own blood simmer and bubble.

A dim fire began to stir in her mind… A shape that felt like a knife, searing through her mind and begging her to take up it's handle. Bitter, and hateful.

She would have been killed if her magic hadn't acted on it's own. Disgust rankled through her, making her nostrils flair. The palace grew darker.

It was their choice. Their actions.

Not hers.

The doors burst open again, a white-uniformed man and a group of Guardsmen stopping in their tracks as they took in the sight before them.

Intruders…

"Queen Elsa!"

He had called her Queen.

Behind Hans, there stood seven of her subjects, their chests heaving and mouths agape. She could not look at them, nor could she look away from them. The men sworn to protect her, to the very end.

Her response was automatic.

"I told you… Stay away…"

Tremors rippled down her arms and through her fingers. The air suddenly seemed thin, deeper breaths not enough to keep up with the ravenous inferno inside her. Pulsing, flaming red consumed her vision. She could feel the curse-ed magic swirling just beneath the surface of her skin, like floes of ice floating over a tumultuous sea. Rage seared and battered against her ribcage, swelling with the sickness coursing through her veins. Fighting it only made it worse. There was only one place for the magic to go.

She took her time surveying the men in front of her, their fate already a forgone conclusion. Afterall, no one could withstand her.

Blue light overpowered the red.