She spent hours scanning through every word.

There was a certain ick in her that just refused to go away even after months of peace, something that told her that she needed to find something, that there was something that she should have known but didn't.

Her Father was a man who upheld education above all else, had never shy away from the prospect of his daughters learning from a very young age, had even personally tutor both sisters—but mostly Elsa—with certain studies. He had expressed his desire for his daughters to be proper royals and future rulers of Arendelle and that they would not lack a thing when the crown would eventually pass to either one of them.

It was understandable from him, knowing that he was crowned at the early age of fourteen after the sudden passing of his own Father King Runeard, and the young King may or may not struggle with the sudden responsibilities that weighted his shoulders down.

He was one of the reasons why she had developed such liking toward reading, had even encouraged her to read and study whatever she wanted beyond the stories and fairytales when she was young. After the incident that lead to her isolation, she had only read more, as there was only a limited amount of entertainment that she could do without causing anyone harm.

It was why the library was such a comforting place for her, it offered familiarity as she gazed at the books upon books that lined up the tall shelves.

And now, with the book of histories regarding the kingdoms laid before her, she had been reading about both Weselton and the Southern Isles yet found nothing.

Duke Robert of Weselton had a number of wives he was previously married to before Duchess Atalie, yet had only Sofia as an only child. The previous wives had died from various causes; disease, illness, miscarriage, labor—she physically shuddered at this, and even accident at sea.

None of it had anything to do with what she was searching for.

King Harald of the Southern Isles, just like how his wife had claimed, had been the first to ascend the throne and created the kingdom that had been Arendelle's ally through marriage for close to six years now.

She had heard the door to the library open and close when she was just about to give up.

Expecting her husband or even her younger sister—as there was not much ruckus to indicate her ladies-in-waiting or other servants, she was actually pleasantly surprised to see small hands coming up to hold at the edge of the desk before wide blue eyes peeking up. "Mama?"

Wilhelm must have been standing on his tip-toes if he could peek like that, it was also clear from the way that he did not look the most stable, which made her chuckle as she gestured for him to come around the side to her. He had automatically climbed up onto her lap with her help, settling quite comfortably despite the growing bump that was his younger sibling.

"What you reading?" he asked, peering at the book, brows furrowing at the words and lack of pictures.

"Just a history book, darling." She sighed, running her hand through her son's hair as she look at the book over his head. "But I didn't find what I was looking for."

Wilhelm hummed, he wasn't even bothered with the details, as his little finger pointed at the Southern Isles' crest. "Papa?"

"Yes, that's the crest of the Southern Isles, Papa's home."

"Where's home?"

"Our home?" when she had received an excited nod from him, the platinum blonde haired Queen had flipped through the pages until she spotted the familiar golden crocus. "Here it is: Arendelle."

Pages upon pages of history that she knew so well. She hadn't taught Wilhelm much about the Arendelle royal family outside of the current one—he asked about his grandparents and she did her best to explain in a way that he could understand. She had read this section many times over the years—too many to count even—and could even claim that she knew everything like the back of her hand.

From the kingdom's founder Lord Aren, King Eric, Queen Else—who she had a suspicion was an inspiration for her own name, to her own grandparents King Harald and Queen Rita and their only son and her father King Agnarr, down to herself. The royal family succession was always closely recorded.

As Wilhelm marveled at the few portraits that adorned the pages, the Queen had leisurely skimmed through the words written with black ink, recognizing the names and the sentences she used to memorize front and back.

Until her eyes caught a name that she had been reading earlier—one that her childhood self would probably breeze through due to the fact that the name had not mattered to her back then.

Harald. Captain Harald.

A man of a noble house that had been her grandfather's friend since childhood and was appointed as Captain during her reign. A Captain that had not served his life with the King as he elected to conquer—with the King's support in the form of an army—an archipelago south of Arendelle that was not under Runeard's rule.

An archipelago south of Arendelle would be…

The Southern Isles.

Her grandfather and Hans' father were childhood friends.

Hans' father had become King with the help of her grandfather through conquering a peaceful land that was not under Arendelle's rule.

"During the early years of his rule, Harald had faced many oppositions." Queen Adela had once explained to her, "From one of those oppositions, Atalie had fallen into our care."

A sudden feel of dread crept up her spine.

Had it been so simple then? That everything the Duchess had done, to her family and especially to her, was based on the ground of revenge? Had Atalie been part of that opposition against the now King of the Southern Isles, she could somewhat understand if she had harbored hatred toward them, a little of a stretch since neither she nor Hans were even directly involved, but understandable.

And a vengeful person would not back down so easily. Especially not someone like Atalie.

"Wilhelm?" She called out, as her hand paused in its motion of brushing through his auburn locks, keeping her voice even and soft as her son looked up at her with wondering eyes. "Could you please get Papa for me, please? Mama needs to speak to him."

Oh, she needed to speak to him alright.

Hans had been quiet for such a long moment that she began to wonder if he even still had his voice.

The Prince Consort had come into the library just as soon as his young son had come to get him, and if it had not been the weight of their discussion, Elsa would have found his expression to be rather amusing—wide eyed and alarmed as he feared something had happened to her. When she had assured him that it was nothing of sort and invited him to sit on the armchair by the tall windows where she had moved and occupied the other one as she waited for him, Hans had not torn his eyes away from her one bit.

And after she had laid out everything that she had read and discovered, the theory that she had come up with regarding Atalie's possible intention and motive, he had not spoken a word in return.

"Hans," she frowned at him, after waiting for yet another minute and not having her husband uttering a single thing. "Say something, darling."

"I do not know what to say, darling." Hans admitted as he turned to look at her, as if just getting out of his daze. "What do you expect me to say regarding this?"

Elsa blinked. She was just as loss, and thought that informing Hans might give her some insight from a different perspective, though it seemed that she was mistaken. "I am unsure myself." But then, she added. "Do you not remember her? Your Mother had mentioned that Atalie did 'come under their care', had she not lived in the palace with you?"

"It has been a very long years ago, Elsa." The auburn-haired Prince sighed, shaking his head. "I could not recall a specific face from my childhood, especially if she left for Weselton when I was still fairly young."

Sighing, the Queen had pushed herself up onto her feet, one hand at the underside of her belly to support it's weight as she made her way to stand by the tall window overlooking the kingdom's town.

"We know of Atalie's past now," Hans said as he had stood up as well, joining his wife by her side, hands resting on her shoulders. "It does not really help us in finding out where she is or whether she would show herself once again."

"She would." There was no denying it. Someone like Atalie would not simply give up, especially after she had crafted such intricated plan. "When, I am not sure. I fear we would have to face her once more before this little one is born."

Hans leaned down, pressing his lips against the side of his wife's neck, warm on her chilled skin. "Let us not say such a grim thing, Elsa."

"You still have that medal I gave you, yes?" Hans would know which one she had referred too, and the sure nod of his head had only proved her right. "Good." That snowflake-shaped medal that she had given him during Jul when she was pregnant with Wilhelm—the shape had matched with Anna's necklace that still hung around her neck even as years had gone by. An assurance for her regarding her family.

Her eyelashes fluttered in a blink when she felt her unborn child kicked against her rib. She had been far along enough that the babe had turned, her free hand moving to caress the spot while her eyes remained focused on the people down below. They still had at least two months before the annual Harvest Festival—so that was how much she had before she was to expect her child to be born.

"Wandering thoughts?" Hans inquired, fingers curling around her chin as he tilted her head up to look at him.

"It would likely be cold," she started, with a pursed lips. "When the babe arrives."

She couldn't quite figure out what part of her sentence had made Hans chuckled, but he did, as he leaned down to press a light kiss on her lips. "A child of the Snow Queen indeed." He had teased. "Do not be wary, Elsa, the babe will know nothing but the warmth of its mother's embrace."

"And its father's?"

"And its brother's and aunt's and uncle's." Hans promised. "Our child will be surrounded with the love of our family."

Elsa prayed to the Gods above that her husband was right.