You can hum whatever tune you like to Elsa's song. I can write lyrics, but not music.

Chapter 2

The calendar hanging on her study had one date circled in deep blue ink. No, not circled; rather, a snowflake had been drawn around it. Elsa tried to keep her eyes focused on the trade summaries and weather reports that littered her desk, jotting down notes to bring up with her advisers in her neat, tidy script. But her mind, and eyes, kept wandering. If not to the window, than to the calendar, and the date that was highlighted there.

December 21st.

The Winter Solstice.

Tomorrow.

And her bones itched inside her skin. "Calm down," she whispered. "Just make it through tomorrow. It will have to get better." The Winter Solstice, as anyone trained in astronomy knew, was the shortest day and the longest night of the year. It was the first day of winter, when cold and darkness were at their apex. Even though a long winter lay ahead after the solstice, that day- that night- would be the height of its powers. Her ancestors, those who had raided and worshiped in the wilds, had known the Solstice's power. And it was a power, especially to Elsa.

Around the middle of November, Elsa had felt something stirring within her. It was like a pricking of her bones, an itch in her muscles, a tug on her mind. She had never felt it in previous autumns, but of course, in previous autumns she had been working as hard as possible to hide her icy magic. Now, with the love of her sister and her people, with her secret exposed to the world, Elsa allowed her magic to flow freely- she had let it go. And it seemed that said magic had attracted the attention of something in the cold and snow. Something that had begun gently scraping on the doorway of her soul in the middle of November.

It was knocking loudly now, so insistent that Elsa could barely pay attention to her queenly duties. She had canceled all the week's meetings with her advisers, ostensibly to give them a Christmas holiday, but really because she doubted she could have paid attention during their reports. She had, entirely unwittingly, been spending less time with Anna and Kristoff too, which was causing her younger sister no small amount of consternation. But Elsa didn't notice such things.

What she did notice was the cold outside. The frigid bite of the air. The snow that was coming down right now; it had started lightly a few hours ago, but was now much heavier, a thick carpet of white settling on Arendelle. With a curt breath, Elsa pushed away from her desk, and wandered to the window. White flakes were hitting it, softly falling against the backdrop of the slate gray sky. Elsa clutched her arms around herself and began to pace back and forth. She began to sing under her breath.

The Winter calls me quietly,

It doesn't need to shout.

It begs me open up the door

To see what it's about.

It tells me it has things to show me,

Secret, weird and strange.

It asks if it might make suggestions

So that I might change.

On wild impulse, Elsa went to her window and undid the lock. The window swung open, and she stepped outside onto the sill that ran around the castle roof. The city was mostly empty, the snowstorm having driven nearly everyone inside.

DONG, DONG, DONG, DONG.

The bells of the great cathedral were ringing, calling folk to the evening Mass. And when Elsa squinted, she could in fact see a small crowd hurrying up the ancient stone steps. Elsa turned away. Once upon a time, when she was young and very afraid, she had read tales about demons and witches and worried she was one. Her mother had told her that if that were the case, she would not be able to stand the sound of church bells. So hearing them always brought her some comfort. But they could not chase away the itch.

The Winter calls me softly,

But it might as well have yelled.

I find I can't ignore it,

Even with the tolling bells.

My friends, my sister and my people

All have their own cries,

I say they're most important,

But my heart knows my head lies.

Elsa had walked all the way to the edge of the roof, peering down into the courtyard. With a mighty wave of her hand, she produced a staircase of ice, which she used to walk down into the courtyard. The fountains were still billowing their water, though the snowstorm dampened their flow. Elsa flicked her wrist and both fountains froze. Using her magic was like scratching the itch; it made it go away a little. But it kept returning stronger than ever. Elsa glanced up into the sky, could feel the snow falling down, could feel a little of herself in every single flake.

She walked out through the gates, onto the bridge connecting the castle with the city. It afforded her an unobstructed view across the fjord, to where the mighty glacier crashed into the water. The ice was talking to her, whispering sweet nothings in her ear. Her singing grew louder, her voice carried as if by magic through the swirling storm. She leapt onto one of the lamp posts and leaned out toward the fjord, toward the glacier.

The Winter calls me gently, tells me

"You belong out here.

Your place is with the drifts and glaciers

Hard and sharp and clear.

Fling off your shawl! Embrace the ice!

Leave mortal flesh behind!

Be one with all that's cold and white

Until the end of time!"

Elsa leapt down from the lamppost and hurried into the city, her cloak billowing behind her. She spun and twirled, dancing in the driving snow, delighting in every cold touch of the flakes on her face. She closed her eyes in glee. She had once told Anna that the cold didn't bother her. But it was more than that. The cold not only didn't bother her, it delighted her. The chill that drove others indoors to their fires pushed her out into the world, because she adored its feel against her skin.

"Queen Elsa! Queen Elsa!"

She stopped and turned. A gaggle of small children was standing on the steps leading to a lowered portion of the nearby square. They were dressed warmly, and their smiles stirred a similar warmth in Elsa's heart. "Hello, my children," she said gently.

"Psst! Bow and curtsey!" one of the little girls whispered, so loudly that Elsa could easily hear. It made her smile, and she stifled a giggle when the little girls curtseyed and the little boys bowed.

"There's no need for that," she said. "What do you need?"

"Well, we wanted to all go skating," said one of the little boys.

"But the pond's too far! Our parents won't let us leave the city!" said one of the little girls.

Elsa gave them a smile. "I think I can help with that. Stand back."

With cries of delight the children stepped away from the lowered portion of the square. Elsa bent down, brought her open hand up to her mouth, and blew. Frozen tendrils of her magic swarmed out and hit the lowered portion of the square, covering it in a layer of ice several inches thick. Elsa motioned toward it, and the children whooped with glee as they ran to the ice, most of them remembering to stop and sit to put on their skates.

Elsa turned away as they began to laugh and play. They were so happy. They saw the winter as a wonderland, a joy ride, something to be appreciated and then escaped. They didn't need it like Elsa did. They didn't crave it. Elsa sang softly as she turned back to look at the castle.

The Winter calls me tenderly,

As with a lover's tone.

And how I wish that in this hour

My heart was as a stone.

I eat, I sleep, I live, I laugh, and

Do what people do,

Elsa looked hopelessly up into the sky. Every snowflake she saw, every snowflake that hit her face, amplified her terrible yearning.

But still the Winter calls to me.

I can't ignore- what to do?

The answer came at her like a cannonball. Anna! She didn't have to be alone any more. She didn't have to shut people out. If anyone in the world could keep the Winter from claiming her, it was Anna. She had the warmth and light and love to drive away the snow.