Eugene had never been allowed very close to the castle. Much less, inside of it. As he walked beside the soldier that had led him here, holding his hand, Eugene took in the sights of the immensely high ceiling, the buttresses, the paintings, and the eloquently colored drapes, carpets, and furnishings. The little boy's eyes were wide. After living in a shanty, small house for his whole life, he pictured himself living in a castle of his own. He tilted his face up to see the soldier, who had told Eugene that his name was Hugo.

"Someday," Eugene whispered, "I'm going to live here."

Hugo chuckled, "Don't know about that, lad. This is just temporary, but don't you worry. We'll find you a place to stay soon enough."

They entered into a very large room, and Eugene's jaw dropped. Books! Books as far as he could see, all the way up to the ceiling, with long wooden ladders to climb, and a softly crackling fire in the fireplace. A young woman was sitting in an arm chair a ways away, rocking a sleeping baby. As Hugo approached her, he bowed slightly, and she smiled.

"Good morning," the woman said, her voice light.

"Morning, your highness," responded Hugo, "This is the boy," and he placed his hand on Eugene's shoulder.

"Ah, of course!"

The woman grinned down at him and shifted her body to place the sleeping baby in a bassinet next to the chair. Then she knelt down next to him and waved a small hand.

"Hello, there… What's your name?"

Eugene didn't speak. He didn't know why he was here. He wanted his own mother, not this woman, whoever she was.

"My name's Rosie."

Blank stares.

Rosie straightened up and motioned to the little boy.

"Here, darling, you can sit in this chair, if you want. There's a book there you might like. It has pictures!"

Eugene couldn't help himself. He had never read a book before! Clambering up onto the soft cushion, he sat down and lifted to book into his lap, briefly glancing over to see the baby. She was still sound asleep, her golden hair in soft waves around her head. Normal baby stuff.

Rosie turned to Hugo, bringing her voice down to a whisper.

"Do you know anything about him? Or his parents?"

"The neighbor found his parents' bodies. They both had had their throats cut. Terrible. They seemed pretty poor, judging by the state of their house. As for the boy, all I know is that he likes castles."

Rosie shook her head sadly, "Any word on the orphanage?"

"There's a bed opening up in ten days. Someone adopted a little girl. Until then, there's no place for him to go."

The queen straightened up. "Well, in that case, he can just stay here for a while."

Hugo smiled. "I thought you might say that. Thank you, your highness." Then he left.

Eugene looked up suddenly as the soldier exited the room, his lip quivering. He had quite liked Hugo. The woman, Rosie, came and stood next to him.

"So, would you like me to read that to you?"

Eugene thought about it for a minute. Then he nodded. Smiling, Rosie lifted him up, sat down, then placed the boy in her lap. Holding the book in front of them, she began to read.

"The Tales of Flynnigan Rider."

Freja awoke suddenly to Elsa's crying. She sat up straight in bed, feeling strangely light now that her body was, more or less, retreating back to its original shape. Beside her, Stellan moved and grunted, then propped himself up on his elbow and ran a hand over his eyes. Jumping out of her covers, Freja ran to the bassinet at the foot of the bed. Her head seemed to be pounding. Elsa, Elsa, Elsa.

Reaching the small, padded crib, Freja gazed down as the crying stopped. Her daughter looked up at her with big blue eyes, her tiny lips moving frantically. The queen sighed. Elsa was okay. A week they had stayed in Corona, since she had given birth. And every day felt safer and more secure. She already could see Elsa growing, her eyes becoming more and more observant, and her facial expressions portraying everything from frustration to recognition. She was, in a word, incredible.

She felt Stellan wrap his arms around her waist and leaned into him, smiling in the dark as her pulse slowed.

"You see?" her husband said softly, "She's fine."

"I know," Freja grinning, holding his hand and kissing it, "I think she just needed to know that we were in the room."

Already, Elsa's eyes were drooping and she was slipping back into slumber.

Freja followed Stellan back to the bed, snuggling up against his side, relishing his warmth. As he began to snore lightly, she almost laughed. Everything was perfect, safe, and wonderful. And she had never felt so relieved.

Only a few hours passed before Freja was woken a second time. She hesitated to open her eyes. Elsa again. As much as she loved her daughter, this no sleep thing was definitely going to give her wrinkles. She heard Stellan snoring, along with Elsa fussing. A minute more, then she would actually wake up and go check on her. Listening to the tiny, soft wail, Freja couldn't help but smile. Then another sound caught her ear. A faint click. What was that? Yawning, Freja sat up, rubbing her eyes and looking toward Elsa's crib. Then her eyes widened.

"ELSA!"

The baby's crying came from the window. It was open, a dark figure silhouetted against the starlight.

Stellan startled from his sleep, automatically flailing for his sword, which was kept underneath the bed.

"ELSA! NO!" Freja was already running toward the cloaked figure. She felt the déjà vu set on her almost instantly, and her breath caught in her throat as she gasped, yelling over Elsa's crying.

"Please! Please, no!"

The figure dropped off the window ledge like a stone.

"NO!" Stellan shouted, running past her wife toward the ledge. But when he looked down, the courtyard below was empty. He turned back to Freja. She was gone, racing with every fiber in her body down the hall, her bare feet slapping the wood floors.

"Guards! Intruder! Help!" Stellan was yelling behind her, and Freja could hear him running after her. But everything had faded from her mind. She felt like she was back in that horrible nightmare as she sprinted down the passage, like her feet were carrying weights and her legs were limp and useless. Rosie's bed-head poked out of their bedroom as Freja neared it.

"Wha's wrong?" but as soon as her sister had spoken, Freja saw it in her eyes. She knew. The younger sister barely had time to glimpse Rosie sink to the floor, her head in her hands, before she was past, breaking out into the grand entry, then pushing her way out of the huge castle doors. Her heart was beating so loudly that it was the only thing Freja could hear. She didn't even realize that she was screaming.

"ELSA! ALAZAIR! PLEASE!" she sobbed, "DON'T TAKE HER!" A wave of anger rushed over her, and she screamed and yelled and cursed at the cool night air, "ALAZAIR! I'M GOING TO FIND YOU!"