A/N: I forgot to clarify something, I'm sorry. This is an entirely out of the original Frozen timeline. The events of the canonical Frozen never transpired.

Poltergeist II

Pride

Elsa saw to it that no time is wasted on her second day at the Southern Isles.

Something had apparently delayed her schedule as it is.

Contrary to her cold welcome the day before, every staff member she passed by on her way to breakfast were concerned and surprised that she was already up on her feet. She told them with heartfelt gratitude and assurance that she was as fine as she could be.

She conducted her affairs at the breakfast table; documents and stacks of paper were neatly placed alongside her meal. If any member of the staff found this weird, they didn't let it on. Elsa simply couldn't guarantee her safety and her peace within the confines of her room.

The yesterday's events had shaken her, she cannot deny that.

It took her several hours to find the will to sleep. She spent countless hours worrying about Anna and Arendelle, and her own safety in the Southern Isles. Her anxiety was evident through an inch deep snow in her bedroom that morning, which she took time to thaw before getting ready for the day.

She had been in the dining hall all morning and well after lunch before she finally took a break.

Her eyes were getting sore from consulting various Southern Isles books and documents. Her hands were shaky from the continuous use on writing letters and decrees. Her voice sounded parched and incredibly hoarse from the neglect of usage when she told one of her guards to send her letter and her instructions to Anna.

Normally, she would have gone to a library to bask in the comfort of the scent of books and the calm quiet that envelops her entirely. But after yesterday's events, she opted to take a short trip around town instead.

So after taking a short break to breath and relax, she went to the stables to borrow a horse.

The lone stableboy tending the horses nearly tripped over himself in his attempt to bow to her obsequiously.

When she told him that she wished to ride one of the horses, the young stableboy scratched his head and tilted his head aside in curiosity, "Won't Her Majesty prefer a carriage instead?"

Elsa shook her head with a tired smile. She wants the people of the Southern Isles to get used to her presence among them. Being inside a carriage will hide her from plain sight, and she felt that the people will take her wish to remain unseen as her wish to be distant from them.

The stableboy returned several minutes later with a large Fjord horse. It was a beautiful stallion, she thought. It was a tan horse with a mesmerising black and white mane. But what spoke most of all to Elsa was its soulful amber eyes. One glance at the magnificent creature and one could easily tell that it was mired in some sort of depressive state. Its ears were lowered, and its neck was bowed.

"I hope Her Majesty will like 'im," said the stableboy, patting the horse's nose affectionately, "He's been a lonely one, he is. But he's a smart one. Been awhile since someone rode 'im."

"What happened to his previous owner?" Elsa asked, pathos powerfully tugging at her heartstrings at the sight of the poor horse.

The stableboy paused and lowered his head. "He's gone for several years now, ma'am," he said quietly.

At first, Elsa felt the unpleasant plummeting sensation in her gut at the thought that this was the horse of one of the previous king's brothers, but the last part of the statement captured her interest.

"Several years?" Elsa asked in hushed tones.

The stableboy nodded. "That's what they told me. I was kind of new here, you see, ma'am. Been here for a couple of months before the king died. All I know is that they told me Sitron here was some prince's horse."

"This prince you spoke of, who was he?" Elsa further pressed.

"I don't know him, ma'am, but from what I've heard, he was the youngest prince, I think. The thirteenth one, they told me. No one talked about him much."

Odd, Elsa thought. From what she could remember before the Arendelle was attacked, she was going to defend her kingdom against twelve brothers from the Southern Isles. Not thirteen. She had never known the members of their kin as Southern Isles had little to nonexistent contact with Arendelle beforehand. No delegation even came from the kingdom on the day she was crowned as queen.

"What happened to him?" Elsa asked cautiously, her heart beginning to increase its pace at the possibility of a survivor to usurp the throne.

The stableboy scratched his head and shifted anxiously on the spot. "The details are kinda foggy, ma'am. I'm not sure for myself."

Again, she felt the cold creep up her spine and grip her heart tenaciously.

An unknown prince. The supposed brother of the previous monarch.

Where is he? What happened to him? Does he know that his brothers are dead? If he does, is he not interested to take back the throne from her?

In her short pause, the stableboy spoke up, "Does Her Majesty need help with the horse?"

Elsa shook her head and smiled at him, trying to shake off the unpleasant cold enveloping her. "No, thank you. I can take it from here."

The Southern Isle folk took their time in interacting with her.

They were deathly afraid of her first, but Elsa had been genuine in her attempt to be closer to them. She even stopped several times to entertain curious children by making ice figures for them. She toured the marketplace, the streets where the elite lived, the ports, and even the dilapidated houses at the borders of the kingdom's walls. She talked to anyone who are willing to entertain her questions. She listened to the problems they observed and the developments they longed to see.

She took notes of her observations as her guards trailed mutely behind her. Sitron was quiet and somber throughout the tour, but he was cooperative nonetheless. He neighed gratefully, though, every time children handed him carrots or apples to feed on as they passed by.

By the time she retired to the castle, it was getting dark, but she was in good spirits.

Though some people are still wary of her and her anomalous ice powers, she was sure she had made a good impression on the people.

She personally returned Sitron to the stables.

"Thank you for today, Sitron. I'm sorry if that was a long walk," Elsa said to him as she affectionately patted his neck. "I'll make it up to you tomorrow. I promise. I'll come visit you, all right?"

The horse grunted, but he nudged her cheek with his nose to show her that he understood her.

He was such a good horse, Elsa thought. She was sorry that he had been lonely for quite some time.

When she got to the stables, a portly man greeted her instead of the stableboy earlier.

"Oh, Janik?" The man said when she asked him where the young man was, "I sent him home for the time being, Your Grace. He took a nasty blow to the head sometime in the afternoon after you left the castle. I found him facedown on the hay and the place was a mess! Horses running about and the tools strewn everywhere! I had a word with his father about this, I did. Janik was mumbling about some flying horseshoe hitting him squarely in the face. The poor lad must've had a lot to drink, I'd say."

Elsa's brow furrowed. "He wasn't drunk when I visited him this afternoon," she said.

The man simply shrugged. "Regardless, we'll have to consider putting him back again after this little fiasco. Anyway…"

He faltered when he finally noticed the horse accompanying Elsa.

He blanched under the candlelight. "Her Majesty has ridden Sitron?"

"Yes," Elsa said, smiling slightly as she patted the horse again, "He's been a gentle companion. Please, sir, can you assure that Sitron gets a good ration of apples tonight?"

The man was still for a moment, and then he cleared his throat. "Uh, yes, Your Grace, of course…"

She bade Sitron a final goodbye before she made her way back to the castle. She made a final glance before the stables were out of sight.

She saw silhouettes of two people.

She chanced a glance again, heart jamming into her throat.

She saw the man escort Sitron back, alone.

Elsa began to plan her next course of action to improve the kingdom's economy. To do that, she'll have to consult with another set of books to deal with the culture, norms, and customs of the Southern Isle folk. This will be significant in terms of the items they sold, and the items they will be willing to buy from their foreign neighbors.

If there's on thing Elsa couldn't deny, it was that she is a perfectionist.

Even if that perfectionism was going to kill her.

On her trip to the library that evening, she had her guards follow her into the massive room. Even Alva was there should she need anything to accompany her late night time, she positioned herself in front of the fireplace, sitting securely in one of the comfortable sofas.

Though she was more confident now that she had company, Elsa can't help but glance at the second floor every now and then, straining her ears to hear with vivid clarity.

With her eyes trained on the books, she did not notice the light snowfall around her.

When her guards didn't speak up, Alva did.

"Pardon me, Your Grace," she began quietly, which prompted Elsa to direct her attention to her, albeit startled slightly, "Is there something you need?"

Elsa finally noticed the snow steadily powdering the room. She waved her hand, and the snow disappeared from sight, much to the young servant's awe. Normally, she would've waved off the question, but with the day's events finally catching up to her, she deemed to ask, "Alva, how long have you been serving in the castle?"

Alva seemed quite taken aback by the question, but she answered nonetheless. "Since I was ten years of age, Your Grace. I am now past nineteen years old."

"Ah. I would just like to verify something with you," Elsa said, and then she patted the empty spot next to her. "Please, sit with me."

Alva gingerly sat herself down next to the queen, placing a respectable distance between the two of them.

"Alva," Elsa began, meticulously marking the pages of the books opened in front of her as she talked, "How many brothers did the king have?"

Alva shifted on her seat, staring at her hands on her lap. "Eleven, Your Grace."

"Just eleven? Are they really just twelve brothers all in all?"

Alva paused. "No," she finally said. "They were supposed thirteen, including the king."

Elsa sat straighter, "The brother they have omitted. What happened to him?"

Alva's head shot up, and she fidgeted with her hands agitatedly; a gesture Elsa herself was well familiar with. Anna had pointed out to her countless times that when she was anxious, she would turn her nervous energy to her hands. Though her habit was still difficult to control, she was more aware of it now.

She regretted asking, as this was clearly something that somehow bothers the young servant woman. "Alva—"

"He's dead, Your Majesty," the girl blurted out. "He's been dead for quite some time. Seven years, in fact. He's been laid to rest at the castle catacombs alongside his father and ancestors for years."

Elsa felt a sickening freezing sensation envelop her all over. "Dead? What… What happened?"

Alva took a deep breath and straightened up. "There were many speculations. None of us really knew why. It all happened so suddenly. One day they just found him dead in his room. After he was interred, the king strictly told us not to talk about him, let alone mention his name."

Elsa suddenly realised something, and it made her feel colder.

"His room… Where was his room?"

Alva's facial response told her all that she needed to know.

When Elsa returned to the "spare room" she was residing in at the end of the hall, she knew that sleep was nearly impossible to be acquired that night.

Literally everything was in a state of disarray.

All her personal effects in the closets and the cabinets were strewn all over the floor from her clothes to her jewelries. The sheets had evidently been pulled— rather violently— from the bed. She realised with a heavy heart the moment she saw her books on the floor was that the pages had been ripped from their bindings as well.

Shocked, frightened, and angry all at the same time, Elsa stood in the middle of room.

The sooner she gets through this little problem, the sooner she can work in peace. Ignoring it was not an option.

"Are you here?" Elsa asked aloud, clutching the books she had from the library tightly under her arm as an anchorage.

It felt ridiculously silly for her to ask the apparent ruin all around her, but if her hunch was right…

Chilling silence.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when the door of the adjoining bathroom slammed close with a deafening bang!

Elsa gripped the books tighter, facing the direction of the bathroom with steel resolution as she held her head high. "I'm sorry if I'm seemingly invading your room, but—"

"Murderer."

Elsa dropped the books as she whipped around, her shaking hands poised to discharge her powers. It sounded as if the voice was directly behind her. She steeled her expression, not letting her fear win over her.

"You killed them."

The accusation sounded heavy in her ears, and she felt her resolve melt.

It wasn't her fault. She didn't want them to die.

"I didn't—"

"GET OUT!"

The windows blasted open with a powerful gust of wind, knocking Elsa off-balance, and she stumbled to the bed.

Her guards came bursting through her door, their swords drawn and they stood in vigilance.

Elsa quickly waved them off to wait outside. They gave her confused looks, but she was adamant to keep them out of harm's way. She can handle this on her own.

When they reluctantly exited, Elsa shakily stood to her feet again. She crossed her arms in defiance as she raised her head high in an imposing figure with a grimace affixed to her face.

"You accuse me of things that you don't understand," she began, addressing the now silent room. The quiet gave her courage. "I find it insulting. I am no such thing and I don't want you to call me that ever again."

No response.

Elsa took this as a positive sign that he was probably listening. She was still afraid, but she wasn't about to show him that.

"Secondly, had I known that someone was using the room, I would've asked your permission. The staff told me absolutely nothing about you and your outbursts, so I wouldn't have known. Obviously, you don't like me, and I can say the feeling's quite mutual, sir. But I'm here to help Southern Isles, and I can't do that with you violating my belongings and making a scene for yourself."

One of the marble figures at the mantel shelf began floating on its own. Elsa watched, bewildered, as the poor little figure was hurled out of the open windows and into the courtyard below.

She glared at the direction of the fireplace. "Are you done?"

A marble figure of a man on a horse was hurled at her head. It missed her ear by mere inches and it landed with a feeble thump! on the bed instead.

"Well… I hope you're pleased with yourself," Elsa huffed as she picked one of her nightclothes from the floor. "Now, if you still have some decency left in you, you'd leave me momentarily while I change."

Another marble figure dropped on the floor and was smashed to pieces, joining the assorted mess already accumulated across the floor.

Elsa sighed.

Perhaps asserting her dominance was not the best approach. True, she badly wanted to get this ordeal with the turbulent spirit done with so that she could work efficiently in peace, but at the same time, she felt the need to pacify him. The Afterlife couldn't be more unfair to him. She couldn't imagine dying and losing Anna. For seven years, this seemingly violent soul had roamed the castle walls, and to what end?

She maybe angry at him for destroying her belongings, but she also feels sorry for him. Heaven knows she does. Her human heart, her human compassion and kindness, won over her shallow hatred. It always does.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. It was all she could say. "I didn't want any of them to die."

Silence. Everything was still.

Nothing but the howls of the wind beyond the windows accompanied her troubled thoughts.