Hello, I am back from the Hell that is final exam. I've actually finished a couple days ago but I took my sweet time in refreshing my mind and enjoying life, you know. Also I was stuck at the end of this chapter lmao.

"You would not believe the actual situation we are in right now."

The day had not been the easiest for her, that was for sure. The sudden arrival of the Queen of the Southern Isles –Hans' mother that she had only seen once many years ago during Wilhelm's baptism and didn't even talk to, had been the most surprising thing for her before her brother in-law had revealed an event more shocking news regarding her older sister.

There was a certain feeling of betrayal that nagged in her mind, to have the two kept such huge secret from her as if she was not worth of trust even when she was literally the younger sister of the Queen, one that had been promised to not being kept in the dark anymore ever since she had spent thirteen years of her life feeling all alone and believing that she had been the cause of Elsa's self-isolation –because she had angered her older sister so much that she no longer wished to see her, before she finally understood the real reason behind it.

Her confrontation with Hans, followed closely by them basically comforting each other –mostly her really but she wouldn't admit it out loud, had sent her making quick steps through the halls, ignoring how loud her footsteps had echoed against the stone flooring, as she headed to the back of the castle where the stables were located.

She knew her fiancé well, enough to know where to find him during the day when he was not up in the mountains harvesting ice with the others. Despite the fact that he was engaged and to be married to the Princess of Arendelle, the blonde man still insisted on doing his usual hard labor. She couldn't blame him, really, as he had basically grown up with the environment and pulling him away from his lifestyle would just be cruel.

Surely enough Kristoff was there, tending to Sven's fur, brushing it throughout as the reindeer enjoyed his lunch of carrots, occasionally having a conversation between themselves, Kristoff and his 'Sven voice', arguing lightly over their last trip up the mountains.

But the moment she had made her presence known, the mountain man had dropped what he was doing as he rose up to his feet, intrigued as he waited for her to share her piece of mind.

And, of course, she did.

She may have rambled too, and being a little too fast in saying her words that once or twice Kristoff had to remind her to slow down as he did not wish to get lost in the middle of her story and thus missing the point, but she went over everything. Hans' mother arriving at their doorstep, unannounced without even a letter so the servants had to rush into preparing a guest bedchamber for her, how Hans had asked for her help regarding finding Elsa -and the strange exchange about his brothers and how Queen Adela had almost made it sound like it would be Hans' last choice, and of course regarding the condition that her sister was apparently in.

"Elsa's pregnant?"

She was pregnant and at the mercy of a woman who sounded like an even more trouble than her husband had been or else she would have made an attempt to flee and return back to the safety of her own kingdom. Shuddering, she didn't even want to know what kind of a threat that the Duchess possessed to be able to hold Elsa back from defending herself.

"Auntie Anna?"

The small innocent voice had come unexpectedly, as both adults turned their heads toward the entrance, seeing the young boy lingering about quietly. Neither had noticed that they had been joined by another, eyes widening at the prospect that Wilhelm may have heard more than he was supposed to, of the reality that they were trying to shield himself from.

Standing up from the stool that she had sat on earlier as she and her fiancé spoke to one another, she had approached the boy, kneeling down in front of him. "Wilhelm, how long have you been standing here?"

"Not long." He admitted, head lowered in embarrassment. He was aware that eavesdropping was not nice. "But," he dared himself to look up, blue eyes wide and God Anna could have sworn that he truly had his mother's eyes right now, in this light, with the same innocence that Elsa bears only at the privacy of her family. "What is 'peganant' means?"

The question had rendered her speechless, lips parted as she tried to remain as collected as she could. How much could Wilhelm be allowed to know? Hans had stated that only him had known –before he had told Anna and now that she had told Kristoff, and should Wilhelm even be allowed to know? Would he understand?

"'Pregnant'," Kristoff corrected, behind her, but she didn't even bother to glance over her shoulders. "The right word is 'pregnant', Wilhelm."

"Pregnant." The boy repeated, nodding. "What is that?"

"It's uh," this was probably not her place nor her right to tell, but the boy was merely curious, especially since it was his beloved mother they were talking about, and Hans would be far too busy to explain. "It's when a Mama has a baby in her belly."

Auburn brows furrowed. "Why is the baby in her belly? Did she eat the baby?"

"No, of course not, God no." quickly shaking her head, she had to clear up the strange image that her nephew had conjured before he grew to believe it. "She grew it, from the tiniest little thing to a full baby ready to be born."

"How did she make it?"

"With the help from the Papa." Kristoff chirped in, and she almost turned to glare at him.

"How?"

She knew that this question would come up, but she was not prepared to be the one to answer it. There was no way for her to answer this without feeling awkward. "You can ask Mama and Papa that later."

The head tilt was certainly a way for her to know that Wilhelm was not satisfied with having his question dismissed. "Why wouldn't you answer it, Auntie Anna?"

"Because—"

"Because Auntie Anna never made a baby before." For the third time the blonde man had answered, but this time he managed to send blood rushing over his fiancée's face until it was reddened with a deep blush. "But Mama and Papa have made you, so I'm sure they know."

Wilhelm considered the information for a short moment of time before his head perked up, looking at the Ice Harvester with wonder. "Have you did it before?"

"Yes, Kristoff," she joined, turning her attention back to the man, suppressing a round of laughter that desperately wish to be let out. "Have you?"

Taken aback by the boy's innocent question, and her own teasing, the large man stumbled back in his place while Sven had grinned –as far as grinning could be done by a reindeer at least. "N-no! Of course not!"

His awkwardness was actually what had sent her into a fit of laughter after all, as she lifted her nephew up in her arms, holding him against her hip. Despite the fact that she had been there for practically Wilhelm's whole life, she still could not believe how big he had grown, no longer that small bundle that she cuddled up so closely. But even when he could walk and run all by himself, she still loved to hold him like this, drinking on his warmth and softness.

"Now, why don't we get back inside?" She suggested, "It's quite hot today and I'm sure your nannies are wondering where the little Prince has gone to." And that she didn't want to discuss anything further with Kristoff with Wilhelm around, he didn't need to know, in detail, about his Mama right now.

"I'll catch up," the blonde man stated, approaching the two as he planted a sweet kiss against her cheek. "I'm not done with Sven here."

Wilhelm had scrunched his nose at the display of affection, which prompted the Princess to give him a 'boop' on his nose as she smiled, amused. At least he had not thrown a tantrum –according to Elsa's story when he was younger it seemed that her beloved nephew had some sort of a jealousy issue. Who could blame him though? He had been dotted and spoiled by everyone just by being his own self.

They were probably halfway across the yard when she could feel the tugging of a small hand against the fabric of her dress, making her glance sideways to the boy in her arms. "Yes Wilhelm?"

But he didn't speak up right away, which alarmed her really, since the auburn-haired Prince was known as quite the curious one and would not shy away from asking questions. But at the moment he looked as if he was actually considering it, and it made her pause just as she reached the doorway, not quite in the intend to enter just yet but to just stand under the shade that the castle's walls casted down.

"So… Mama is pregnant?" his eyes were casted downward, avoiding her gaze as his fingers toyed with the trim of her black bodice. "There's a baby in her belly?"

Nodding, she noted how sad he looked, or perhaps it was more of a confusion really. He didn't quite understand what it was and he was upset about not knowing. "Yes, you're going to have a sibling, Wilhelm."

"What's a sibling?"

"A sibling is like…" how should she worded this? Shifting her hold against him, as her arm was starting to get tired but not quite ready to put him back on his feet just yet, she had to consider some simple words to use. "It's like me and Mama. We're siblings, I'm Mama's younger sister."

His brows still furrowed, though not as much, he was starting to have a grasp at the concept. "So, I'm going to have a younger sister?"

"Or a younger brother." She shrugged, "Who knows. We have to wait and see until the baby's born."

"When?"

Lips pursuing, she herself had no actual answer to that. But seeing that Elsa could hide her condition even from her and Hans, it seemed to not be that far along. "I don't know."

If her calculation was right -and often times it did, she should be in her second trimester by now.

Learning from her previous experience with Wilhelm, and remembering all of the information that the doctor and midwives had told her before, she had timed her symptoms with what she should be expecting at certain points through her pregnancy even without the capable hands of medical experts. There was Sofia, yes, who seemed to have learned to attend to medical needs ever since she was young, but she would rather not have her around -let alone having her hands feeling around her belly and being so close to her baby.

It was a small secluded hut that they had brought her to, in the middle of the woods where there was nothing else for miles and miles away, making sure to choose a place where no one would come across with. The building itself had reminded her of some sort of a witch's house from the many stories she often read to her son, ironic really, for it was usually the witch that held people hostage and not the other way around.

She was given a room, even smaller than the one at the inn, and this time there was no connecting washroom to it, forcing her to come out and see them sitting around should she needed anything –because now that she had knew of their intention they found no need to bring anything to her anymore.

There was always someone keeping watch in the kitchen, no matter how late she had come out from her room, either the Duchess herself or Sofia, and if not them then one of the large men that Atalie had apparently hired to serve her.

Her nausea was not as bad, thank the Gods for that, but instead she often find herself hungry, needing to snack on bits of food that she could get her hands onto, and no matter how she tried to avoid meeting anyone, it was her need to search the cabinets that drove her to walk out from her room once again for the day.

Her luck ran out when it was Atalie and Sofia who sat there, with the Duchess casually cutting a red apple with a knife while her daughter read a book, causing her to pause and lingered at the other end of the table as she eyed them.

"Out for another snack, Your Majesty?" the red-haired woman asked, one eyebrow raised. "Come sit and have a slice." She offered, gesturing to the sliced apples with the tip of her knife. "Do not fret, it's not poisonous."

She would not be surprised if it was though.

"Hans will know how to find me." By the point it was certain that he would know she was not alright, that she had lied on where she was going and who she was meeting, and he would have gone and searched for her, if not already.

Sofia's gray eyes glanced up over her opened book curiously, but then it had returned to whatever it was that had interested her so much just as the corners of Atalie's lips tugged into a smile. "Oh, I'm sure he does." She noted, dismissively. "He may have been the youngest, but he is one of the thirteen sons of the Southern Isles nonetheless, I do not expect less from him."

The way that the Duchess had referred to her husband like that had made her brows furrowed, as now her initial attempt to sound threatening had reduced into one of a confusion instead. "What do you know of my husband's family?"

"More than you do, I'm sure of it."

How could the Duchess of Weselton have more knowledge regarding the Southern Isles than the woman who married one of the Princes of the said kingdom? She had once mentioned that she traveled a lot for trades, and she would not be surprised if the Southern Isles would be one of them, but it was not the same as having knowledge over the immediate royal family.

"It is quite unfortunate, for you to have only the surface of what kind of a family you are married into." Atalie continued, placing her knife aside on the wooden table with a clang. "Or else you may have known better."

Compared to what Hans knew about Arendelle, she could not deny the truth that she barely knew anything about the Southern Isles outside of what she already learned when she was young regarding the neighboring kingdoms that surrounded her own, as he made sure that it was not the subject that they discuss often. He had told her of his childhood, of how painful and hard it was, and ever since then she never pried.

But she would not let this woman tricked her into doubting her own alliance, to doubt her husband, as her jaw tightened and fingers curled into fists at her side, frost growing over her palms. "You know nothing, Duchess Atalie." She was merely coming up with lies, it was what she did best after all. "And I will not fall for empty words coming from you."

Something in her way of speaking had prompted the older woman to rise from her chair, and in an instant Sofia's head had perked up, full attention over her mother, watching. "On the contrary," Atalie started, fingers brushing against the silver knife she had abandoned earlier, picking it up as she made her way closer to her. And while the blade in the woman's hand had definitely made her very much alarmed, she had stood her ground until they were face to face with one another. Atalie raised the silverware, the tip touching the underside of the young Queen's chin, tilting her head up. "I can tell you anything regarding the Southern Isles."

Focused solely on the icy cold gaze of the Duchess, and the blade that was pressing against her skin –hard but not enough to draw blood yet, she had not noticed how the young girl had moved from her seat, not until she had stood right behind her mother, a hand resting against her shoulder.

The touch had seemed to serve as some sort of a silent reminder, of what she was unsure of, as the reddish haired woman lowered her knife, as something in her eyes shifted. "Well, Queen Elsa," she started, slowly as she dragged her blade across the table, lightly and had only left a faint scratch mark. "Would you like an apple or not?"

The drastic change sent a shiver down her spine, as she finally taken one step back to create more distance between her and the Duchess. "No." Her initial need to snack on something had long since gone, disappeared the moment her talk with the older woman had taken an unexpected turn.

"Then I suggest you run along and back to your room." the Duchess' lips were pulled into a thin line, the corners tugging into the smallest of smile. "After all, we don't need you… yet."

Normally, she would not let someone like Duchess Atalie to order her nor telling her around like so, but something that she had said made her feel like she needed to sit down, and she was most definitely would much prefer not to sit here with the two. Thus, she had turned around on her heels before making her short way back to her room, closing the door behind her before she had pressed her back against the wood, letting out a shaky breath.

She didn't want to admit it, but she knew that the moment Atalie had claimed that she knew more of the Southern Isles than her was a moment of truth, there was no lie beneath her words nor behind the glint in her eyes.

Somehow, for some unknown reason, she may bear all the information –all the answers, that she had over the mysterious family that her husband had come from, the royal family that she had been tied to through her betrothal.

But why?