Here, at the edge of myself, it all feels obvious when I think about it. The questions started when my sister came to bear child. She was 27 years old, and the happiest I have ever seen her. Kristoff's frame had expanded in all directions, and by that point he was the image of a proud Arendellian father. Maturity had come like an old friend – unannounced, almost as if it had always been here. Anna herself could not believe when her belly began to swell. All her friends came to congratulate her. Kings, queens, princes and princesses from several kingdoms came to pledge their allegiance, sensing a twist in the world's political fabric. Olaf showed up briefly, and later on would help care for the babies, but his life was traveling the world now. While I remained on the throne, Anna gave birth to the next generation of the proud royal family of Arendelle, as my counsel insisted that I referred to it in public.

But the question; it came casually at first, much like all important questions usually come. Nothing was meant by it, and towards anyone else, it would have been a simple compliment.

"Wow, sis— you don't look a day over 20!" My sister said to me, a piece of ham sticking from her fork, as her lady in waiting begged her to show proper manners. "You have to give me your secret, I feel so old already!"

I smiled and laughed, teasing her back with some easy comment. It was a compliment I had received from several other women of the court. The conversation barely registered in my memory, but now, I find it to be unnerving. Maybe I should have wondered why that was. Maybe it was not normal that my frame had remained as it was years ago. But then again, I was very young; barely entering my thirties. I counted myself lucky that my kingdom was thriving, my sister was taking upon herself to continue the royal blood, and I had nary a wrinkle on my face.

Everyone noticed it, one step at a time. The moment it started to bother me was when one of Anna's children, Magnus, seemed to notice how much younger I looked than his mother. We were studying cartography when it came out. He had always been a bright young boy, so much his mother's son in sharpness, and definitely my nephew in curiosity.

"Aunt Queen Elsa, why can't I call you big sis?"

I smiled at first, imagining it was just a 6 year old's idea of what family was. "I'm your auntie silly, that's why. I can't be your big sister. Besides, wouldn't Fredrik be jealous?" I didn't expect to become to acquainted with the children. Especially not after all I witnessed my sister go through in the first three years. But they had a way to relax me that I never imagined before. It even made me consider…

"Oh, he's a big poo!" I pretended to audibly gasp, although the prude in me did have a problem with the child's potty mouth. But it had been a long day, and we were having fun. "But you look like the older kids I play with sometimes."

"Do I?" I started bringing my focus back to the map. Some nations had seceded, other countries had expanded— I was getting quite good at recognizing them, too. "You sound like you're just trying to be nice to auntie Elsa."

"No, no, look—" He took out an automatic photograph, all the rage with the rich kids his age. It was an image of him and various children and teens of different ages and sizes. I recognized them from a social event several royal families attended in the castle. "Look, see? You're just like these girls."

He pointed to some older, slender young women to the side of the picture. They mingled less; clearly princesses in their late teens. I remember smiling and teasing him about it.

"Why, does your mother know you're carrying around pictures of young princesses in your pocket? Maybe I should…"

"No! No! Please!" He recoiled immediately, and I laughed at how adorable he was. He relaxed when he saw me laughing. His brother Fredrik came running soon after, always energetic and ready to get in trouble. I let the boys go do their deeds and started closing my maps.

Still, I caught my reflection on one of the goblets scattered on the table. Magnus had a point. I did look younger than most women my age. Much more in line with those princesses, right out of their teens and into adulthood.

But surely it was simple luck. An odd version of a late bloomer. Nothing to worry about.

I remember at least one moment when I allowed myself to truly consider the implications of what was happening to me, or rather, of what wasn't. There were few people I was comfortable talking about it. In retrospect, the act didn't change much at the time, but I admit it was good to say it out loud. As long as no one else knew, it was fine. Like dripping your toes in a nightmare before fully submerging.

"Olaf?" I asked eventually, when I caught him nodding off. "Do you feel like there's something different about me?"

He shot up at the sound of my voice, and his smile opened up as it always did. His teeth were made of snow, and I had no idea how he was breathing, but no one else would have as interesting a perspective on this as he would. He spent his time traveling the world, paradoxically attracted to the tropics, the green outdoors. This was a relatively rare visit.

"New clothes? Or are we talking about the ice thing?"

"No, I mean—"

"New hair? New teeth? New skin? I mean I'll be honest you guys all look the same to me—"

"No, Olaf, stop." I got closer, and looked into his little beady eyes. "I misspoke. Does it look like… I ever change to you? Like I ever get… older?"

He closed his open smile into a smirk, and then into a thinking face. His little twig arms scratched an inexistent chin. Was he based on my idea of what best friends were like? Was he supposed to be a tiny, snow Anna? Sometimes I caught myself wondering how it all came to be.

"Well… I guess you've got some marks on your face here, and… oh, no." He poked my forehead, comically disappointed. "Just a snowflake. Then I guess no, not really."

I winced. "Doesn't that… freak you out?"

He raised an eyebrow at me, twisting the snow in his face. "I'm a snowman! I don't see age. You're all wonderful squishy human to me."

I gave him a second to rephrase it, with a disapproving look on my face.

"I mean… um, age wouldn't really change anything for me. We'd still be best friends. And you'd still be keeping my little cloud above me." He poked the cloud of eternal winter above his head, and went back to smiling brightly. "Why wouldn't I want this to keep going forever?"

I felt enough anxiety at the idea that I decided not to talk to Olaf about it again. At least, not for a while. He didn't understand the problem, and why would he. Honestly, neither did I. Not fully, at that point.

The questions furthered once Anna turned 40. Fredrik and Magnus were strong and capable; their dynamic incredibly familiar to us, yet completely new. They were also almost 14— almost men. I had watched them grow like a fairy tale princess, always perfect, always present. And their dear mother was starting to get worried about me.

"You're so fit, Elsa." She would say, her lips smiling gently, but her brown furrowed. Compliments were how she started to get into uncomfortable subjects. "So beautiful."

I was 44 years old – 46? I forget. It matters not. – and my hair laid proud and golden. My powers resonated with my every breath. Arendelle was at times a tropical paradise, at others a temperate, lush garden. Winter came when it was relevant, convenient, and most importantly, when and where I wanted it to. Arendelle thrived under the sisters' rule, but the rumors were spreading.

"I don't know about that, Anna— you're giving me a run for my money. I love your new haircut." Our banter always sounded stiff around the topic. We could feel the big conversation coming, but neither of us knew how to address it. Still, I was telling the truth. She looked gorgeous with short hair. It made her look very mature. "I'm just waiting for the grey hairs to pop up on me."

"Hmm." Anna was rarely this quiet with me. I knew something was on her mind. "Sorry, I'm not calling you old or anything. It's just… amazing how young you look."

We were silent for a little while. We were doing something important. Something to do with the children, I believe their birthday was coming up? It was about half a minute before Anna continued on her train of thought. "Maaaaybe… your powers have something to do with it?"

It's not like I hadn't considered it before, but at that point, I was still hopeful. "Maybe. Or maybe I just turn into a troll when I get old enough."

Anna laughed. I loved her laughter. "Rolling around like a rock! I'd love to see it."

"You're way too excited about me turning into a rock."

"Yeah! It would be great! We could roll you around the mountain as a new national sport."

It was my turn to laugh. The tension had gone away, and we were just two sisters again, enjoying their time together. That's how most of our conversation turned out, anyway. A hint of something deeper and uncomfortable would prod its head in every once in a while, but it would quickly recede back to the shadows.

But even then, I felt a cloud looming over my thoughts. Something that I felt unable to truly focus on, but was ever present. In my dreams, I saw an endless wasteland of ice and snow, with me standing alone in the middle of it.

Ah, I remember what we were doing. Making Magnus's royal garb by hand. I prickled my finger, and yelped in shock. Anna hurried over to me, but to our surprise, the wound was already gone.

"What was that?" Anna held my hand, inspecting the drop of blood that somehow left me. "There's nothing here."

I could feel cold in my fingertips, however. I used my powers for something. It would take a long time before I realized it was becoming increasingly difficult to wound me.

While Magnus grew gradually warier of my looks, Fredrik loved having an aunt so "young and pretty," as he put it. He would boast about it to his friends, ask me what I thought of his girlfriends, and would often treat me like a friend instead of an older member of his family. He was direct, playfully inappropriate, and wonderful to have around. I remember he loved introducing his girlfriends to me.

A young lady in a purple dress approached me after lunch. She had a sharp nose and black hair, and looked utterly star struck to be in the palace. Many people felt like that, but the novelty died down quickly. She made to bow, but I waved my hand at her. "No need for this, you're my nephew's friend. It's nice to meet you."

She held my hand politely, not sure where to look. "Enchanted, my queen." I don't remember her name. It wasn't very memorable.

"Likewise." Fredrik's smile was as big as ever. He motioned to her as if saying See auntie? I told you she was great. This was not the first woman he took to meet his family, and it would not be the last. But he always treated them like this was it. "Now, I'm sure you two have lots to do, and I don't mean to be on the way of your fun."

"Yeah!" Fredrik exclaimed, excited. The girl blushed. "Thanks auntie!"

"Auntie?" She looked at me, confused. "I thought you were the prince."

"No, not like that." Fredrik, gods bless him, didn't mind that this girl somehow didn't know the mechanics of her country's royal family. "My mother's the princess, I'm her son."

She looked at me, and at Fredrik, and at me again, and I could almost see the poor girl doing basic math in her head. My precious nephew had chosen a good one again, I thought.

He didn't let her express her confusion, pulling her away to show her the rest of the castle. Their day must have been fun, because I only saw him hours later, beside himself with joy. I was having supper, but simply could not muster much excitement for food. It was like I was always full. That would eventually become the norm.

"I think she's the one, auntie." He said, for the nth time, about the nth young lady. "She's so good to me."

"mhm." It was always a nostalgic trip to hear him say it. Luckily, he hadn't been played with like his mother had, but he had the same capacity for love she did in her young years. I made sure they were all respectable, of course, through my own channels. Aside from that, I had learned to simply stay back and watch as things took their natural course. "And what did she think of the castle?"

"Oh, she was impressed by it, I guess." He seemed to be thinking back, and becoming less enthusiastic as a result. "Not as impressed as she was by you, though. She thought you'd be…" And then he stopped.

"Yes?"

"I mean… she expected different."

Hesitation was not Fredrik's forte. He always jumped at what he wanted to do. Meaning he didn't know how to say what he meant.

"What did she expect? A king?" I smiled, wondering if she was truly that ignorant about current affairs.

"Well… maybe she expected you not to look like…" He felt like he was remembering a conversation, and maybe more than he wanted to remember to keep her on his good side. "… like herself?"

"I'll try to take that as a compliment, I suppose." I was playing with some carrots on my plate, which looked less and less appetizing. The girl had touched a sore node. "How long have you known each other, Fredrik?"

He started his usual inception story of love, how they met as an accident but really hit it off; at some point it seemed to involve unrehearsed singing. If Magnus got the family's sharp wit and mind, Fredrik had our most… emotional features. Still, it was adorable.

I tried focusing on that instead of the growing sense of dread developing on the back of my head. It would be many years before I started dodging these meetings with my nephew's sweethearts. They all started to look so much older than me.

Anna's 50th birthday was a time of great joy in our beautiful country. The sky was a canvas for her name written in snowflakes, as fractals of ice shined beautiful messages upon all the citizens of the realm. Once I figured out my powers reacted to how I felt, the rest was practice. And at that point, I had been practicing for decades.

Kristoff walked with a cane. A hunting accident, but nothing could break his charming smile. He never cared what I looked like. He saw me amidst other politicians and hugged me, warm and fuzzy. I was family, and that was enough. I liked Kristoff. I would always miss him.

Anna, on the other hand, definitely cared what I looked like. I could see it in her eyes, even when she stopped talking about it. In my sister's honor, it was never jealousy. But it was always there, behind every smile, every joke, every silent dinner. Her birthday celebration was no different. Every time I looked at her, she looked back at me for just a second too long. Luckily, she was busy partying with apparently half the realm.

The party was the usual affair. Great food, good music, good enough company. I could never quite summon the right kind of party-goer that would get my sister to have as much fun as possible. Fortunately, Anna had a wide social circle she could always tap into for high quality guests, who had all the charm, dance moves and impromptu singing that she could ask for. A mixture of castle staff and ice golems served food and drinks, and, during the festivities, I was socially allowed to sit on my throne, as long as I acknowledged people as they came up. That meant I could sit back and relax, trying not to let the crowd get to me.

I never got used to them. So many people in one place, and all I could think about was how they were all looking at me. Of course, I could see that they didn't look at me all the time— it just didn't make a difference. Even though the endless winter of my youth was over, they still didn't trust me. Not really. And I didn't blame them.

I received pledges and marriage offers as usual, but to me, they only got more disturbing as time went on. At that point, I had a pretty good idea of what was going on, and the prospect of outliving a husband and son did not appeal to me. The exact nature of my condition still eluded me, and even if it were possible to — cure? Stop? — whatever was happening, the issue of my place in this world remained. For example, it was at that particular party that I realized I had seen most of the attending adults growing from babes into grown-ups. One gentleman visited my court when he was eight, and I was the same age as his mother. Yet here he was, fully grown and already balding, describing the political advantages of a reunion between our families.

Staring into his eyes made me feel dull. Aside from the greed and lust that usually befall royalty, there was also a certain hesitation. I could understand the excitement in proposing to an ever-young woman, but the prospect also scared him. Or maybe I scared him. I could never quite tell. Over time, the difference became moot.

I politely declined, but said his many children were welcome to court Magnus and Fredrik. He grimaced, but accepted defeat. It was more dignified than most. But as he walked back, I saw his shoulders relaxing. It did not surprise me he didn't truly want to marry the Ice Witch of Arendelle.

It did, however, surprise me that this was the day Anna decided to address the issue. From how calm she was, I assume she had pondered it for a while. The celebrations lasted a whole day, and she knocked on my door late at night. I had not been sleeping. At that point, sometimes I just spent the night awake, looking at the stars. Almost as if waiting.

"Elsa." She said, as if every word after were heavy. She was sitting on my bed, and pleaded me with her eyes. "We have to talk to the trolls."

I nodded, uncomfortable. Although I would like to say I met her with my head high, I admit only remembering the floor looking very interesting at that moment. "I don't want to."

"Why not?"

"Because if they say it, then it's… real."

She approached me, and held my hands tight. I looked up, and it pained me to see the wrinkles beginning to form on her face. Her beautiful hair looked much grayer that day, but her eyes were as sharp as ever. "You're not alone, sister. You'll never be. I promise."

In my darkest nights, I remember that conversation and cry. I eventually realized it was because of that moment. I love her for saying those words, but it takes all I have not to let them get to me.

It makes it better, but it does not make it easy.

At one point, entering the forest alone may have frightened both of us, but not a single inhabitant of those woods had doubts about where they stood with their queen. Our path was serene and silent, yet we arrived to partying, singing and dancing. The trolls were as lively as ever. It was always a good time for them.

I could not help but notice the grand priest, Pabbie, was not joining the celebrations. It was obvious he knew why we were there. After their encore, the little rock trolls rolled away, giving way to their spiritual leader. His fatherly composure always made me at ease with him, but we had not spoken in years.

"My Queen, I am your humble servant."

"No such thing, my friend." I kneeled and held his hands. These creatures — these people — had done so much for me, for my whole family, that I could never see myself as anything other than in their debt. "We… come to you with a question."

"Yes, yes." His gaze quickly inspected both of us. He scratched his rocky chin, and lazily stepped away to give himself space. His hand summoned a purple cloud of magic, as big as himself, which encompassed my sister and I. "I know what you came to ask."

Anna and I looked at each other through the cloud. Her expression went from confusion to shock, to then land in utter misery. I did not understand at first, since she looked perfectly normal. Then I looked down.

My hands were made of ice. So was my torso. I could assume so was my face. But the ice emanated a… different feeling than usual. It felt ancient and pure, like an iceberg. Like it would never melt away.

"Your powers, my queen, are not simply relegated to the world around you. They affect you, as well."

And so, two trolls brought me a shard of crystal, and I looked upon my true reflection. A life-like ice statue, perfect in every way, with every muscle, every detail a normal person would have.

But no one looked back at me, aside from the statue. Beautiful, cold, and frozen in time. A perfect replica of humanity, but not quite right.

"I am as old as the Earth. And one day, maybe, we will walk as equals." I felt his little hands touching my dress, and the smoke was gone. Aside from the ancient one's words, the forest was dead silent. "I am sorry, Elsa. It is a heavy burden for a human to bear."

Anna snatched me in a hug, desperate to touch my skin. To make sure I was still warm, still her sister. I remember being too shocked to say anything, but still aware enough of what was happening to reciprocate. I closed my eyes, and cried.

For the first time that year, it snowed in Arendelle.

Elsa, the Snow Queen. Elsa, the Witch. Elsa, the Iceborne. The Cold. The Eternal Monarch. The Ice-Hearted. Summer's Bane. The Cursed. The list of nicknames people gave me could only be compared to the list of rumors for the source of my powers.

According to many, I had made a pact with a Winter devil, whatever those were. I had done despicable rituals and sacrificed my ability to generate children. I had a dungeon full of maidens and sapped their years away unto me. Sometimes, it was my parents' fault. Sometimes, I was an apparition – inhuman in everything but appearance, fooling the world into servitude.

I don't exactly remember what I did when I got home that night. I remember fractals of my arrival. My guards looking at me worried, but fully aware I could defend myself. My sister asking our maids for privacy. And then I can only remember hugging her.

I can also remember feelings. More than anything, I wanted to put my hand inside the fireplace. The flames had been burning away since the maids realized we were back, and their enticing dance almost called to me. Maybe all I needed to do to be normal was to douse myself in flames. Burn the ice into water, then into nothing, and whatever was within me could come out and be alive. Grow old. Die.

I admit, I didn't feel alive at that point. Not exactly. I wouldn't feel truly alive for a long time.

But I could feel my sister's body against mine, and could hear her crying, and how her tears felt when they hit my shoulders. I could feel it when her breathing normalized as she fell asleep, still holding on to me, as tight as she could. I hugged her back, but could not sleep. Sleep, I thought then, was for the living. I find the thought a bit dramatic nowadays, but back then, it felt so real and novel to truly think about my situation. Before, I could at least ignore it. I could avoid feeling it.

Here, at the edge of myself, I can safely say that was the night I started to come to terms with, one day, saying goodbye to her. Or at least, I tried to.

Life went on. I was slightly more detached, but busy as ever. Poor Anna never had the heart for politics. She could barely understand how people could be unpleasant to each other on purpose, much less how could people truly hate one another, especially after how good life in Arendelle had become. Technologies never dreamed of were now simple matter of fact. The telephone, the horseless carriage, electricity… it was all coming along. But hatred is irrational, I tried telling her. It doesn't matter how well things are, all that matters is how people feel inside. Still, I always lived by the idea that anyone can grow to be good, if only they have the opportunity. Yet this is how I spent my 63th birthday.

A family, among many that day, showed up at the castle. There were no celebrations– they became… uncomfortable. But anyone was always allowed in so they could talk to their queen. Our people were tightly knit. The guards knew most families in the capital by name. Expansion had not yet robbed us of our neighborly tradition. Centuries of heavy weather had adapted us for brotherhood, and charity.

Such values were not immediately obvious in the man who tried to shoot me.

His children were in front of him, at first as distractions, then as shields. The man approached me as much as he dared, one of the last of the day, and while I asked what we could do for him that day, he pulled out a weapon and desperately took aim. My eyes widened as Fredrik, at that time my personal guard, jumped towards the assailant.

He shot true. He would never have hit my heart, but definitely my torso. The icy blast that left my hand managed to stop the projectile, a stalagmite connecting it to my palm, and then shattering. Fredrik tackled him, but not before a second shot was fired.

My nephew yelled, but managed to throw the man's gun away from him. He tried to escape, but I did not allow it. Ice broke his run, ice held him in place, ice turned him around and made him face me. And my heart sunk as I recognized this man.

I recognized his children, and his story. He had always been an upstanding citizen, a real man of the people, exemplary of the values in our beautiful land. But in his eyes, I saw none of the honor, of the chivalry, the tenderness of Arendelle. I saw fear; and a familiar hint of disgust.

I said nothing to him. I yelled at the other guards to call doctors, while I attended to Fredrik myself. The bullet caught his thorax, and he was bleeding profusely. Decades before, I would have panicked.

Instead, I summoned the cold. The icy wind brought the lead out of him. It had been destroyed in the blast, and there was nothing I could do about shrapnel. The blood was staunched by manner of freezing the hole. It would give way when the doctors arrived. I prayed he would be fine.

I turned around and saw that Anna and Kristoff had arrived. Oh, Anna. My poor, poor Anna.

Her eyes were not as good as they had once been, her hair was grey, and her legs couldn't quite muster the strength of the young girl I loved. But in an instant, she threw herself at her child, as fast and feral as an ocelot. Her wails echoed the halls, hitting the walls and piercing me like hot knives. This was my fault.

Kristoff was slower, but that was par for the course. When Anna was upset, she became overwhelmed. When Kristoff was upset, he went quiet.

He stared at the man who shot his son in the chest with calm fury. In that moment, I knew Kristoff would kill him. He would grab his old hunting knife and stab him through the heart. But before that, he asked a question.

"What do you think you're doing?" It was an unexpected way to put what he was feeling into words, but it seemed to affect the attacker. He looked straight at me and replied, as if swearing.

"Getting rid of evil."

I looked away. I couldn't meet his eyes. I looked around for his children, and saw one of them getting close to the gun. My look of disbelief probably convinced him otherwise.

More than that, I remember looking at the families that remained outside. The guards had filled the hall. None dared meet my gaze. Was it because of the ice bondage the criminal found himself in? Did they fear a similar fate? A worse fate?

I distinctively remember, of all things, thinking about Hans. Hans, the cowardly snake that he was. Queen Elsa, don't be the monster they fear you to be.

I silently thanked my captain of the guard when he pulled me away from prying eyes. For at least a second, the nightmare was over.

Things were not the same after that day.

The castle was closed for public visitation, "at least for a while," as my court told the people who genuinely needed help. They dealt with the rest of the government, and I made it so that they were accounted for in their need. But my attention was needed elsewhere.

Fredrik grew healthier, but his breathing never recovered. The athletic young man was still there, but he struggled to perform basic activities. When the doctors mentioned he could no longer run, lift heavy weights or ride horses, it was as if his entire personality melted from him. All that was left was a hollow man, a burden in his own eyes. He never recovered to a point where he could live unaccompanied.

Sometimes, he would stare at the beautiful horizon outside the castle silently for hours. Watching the aurora as if it could grant his wishes. Take him like the vast ocean, to a land where everything went right.

Magnus came back from a trip to a neighboring kingdom when he heard the news, and the poor man was beside himself. His brother had always been his physical superior— Magnus more than made up for it with his smarts, and a grand life in politics awaited him. But seeing his brother in a hospital bed, crying silently over the news that his strength and boisterous nature were now forbidden to him, changed something inside the youngest. His eyes grew colder and colder after that day. Especially when he looked at me.

Anna… tried her best. Were she in her prime, she would have dedicated all her days, all her hours to taking care of her son. But her body could not agree to her anymore. The heavy burdens took a toll on her; as well as on her mind. She and Kristoff would spend such a long time with Fredrik, but simply not enough to replace what once was the reasons he lived.

Fredrik the Brave, is how the people called him. But the worst places in the streets also called him Fredrik the Traitor. That bullet had been meant for me.

For Kristoff, it came as a cough. Both he and Anna were running on their seventies at that point. The tragedies and stresses of daily life treated them poorly, but anyone would guess they were doing fine. He coughed for days, until he wouldn't get out of his bed without assistance. The doctor gave us plenty warning about it. These things happened, he said. Kristoff faced it bravely. He never stopped smiling.

Magnus and Anna held his hands for what felt like days. I watched from a distance at first, but finally I joined them before it was over. Kristoff's eyes were strained, but a life well lived shined behind them. He was so proud of everything he had come to do, and most importantly, of the men his children became. He coughed more and more, until he stopped coughing. At no point did Magnus address me.

Anna, herself, stopped smiling for a while. The first year after Kristoff's death was the worst. Fredrik would wheel around in his chair occasionally, but in those days, he mostly kept to himself. He was grieving too, after all. Olaf and Magnus came back to live in the castle, but the structure felt as cold as the people said in their lies. She went past inconsolable straight into a different type of sad. She would sit in her chair and stare, and it would take more and more effort to convince her to perform her duties. Or, eventually, anything.

Sometimes I would hold her hand, and the bright, warm girl that thawed my heart all those years ago would sparkle from within. I could feel it; she was still there, still reachable, if I could just… I don't know, be a better sister. But we would simply sit together, holding hands. Most times in the porch by her room; seldom atop the castle, on the highest tower. The stars and aurora were so beautiful back then. Even if she remained monosyllabic, it felt strangely peaceful. Like a safety net both of us enjoyed sitting on.

I would also look down, trying to find the children playing in the snow. It wouldn't be Arendelle's great new year feast without snow, so I always made sure it was fluffy and glittery. Friends and family alike would play nearby the castle in years past, but now, I had to squint to catch the nearest comfortable show of happiness. The castle grounds were empty, aside from many guards.

"Elsa?"

I left my thoughts, happy to talk to her. "Yes?"

"Do you miss Mom and Dad?"

The question came out so casual, it startled me. It pierced a part of me I had long decided to keep under careful quarantine. I did not know what to say. So, she continued.

"I miss them. I miss them a lot."

I held her hand tighter and turned to face her. "I-I miss them too." I shouldn't have hesitated, I immediately thought. But I did anyway. Those were the people who tried their best to understand what was happening to me, and yet, so much of my early life's struggles could be attributed to my father's genuine attempts at comfort.

Conceal it, don't feel it. Don't let it show.

"Do you remember them?" It came out innocent, but it peeled off my defenses. That made her feel so old. I couldn't tell what age had done to her memory, and for a moment I was terrified to find out.

"I…" There was a right answer, but it eluded me. "I do. Sometimes. Over time, it… gets harder. But I remember what they felt like." Loving, but distant. Trying their best. It didn't make it better. "I remember how much they loved us. You, especially."

"I don't know if I remember them that well, or how much… how much comes from dreams. I wasn't that young, but it's been such a long time since they… they…" And that did it. For the first time in months, Anna teared up and sobbed like a child. I pulled my chair closer so as to better hold Anna, who quickly cradled up to me. Her cries could probably be heard everywhere in the castle, but neither of us cared.

"I miss them so much—"

"There, there…" I was bad at this. I am bad at this. "It's okay sis, it's okay…"

"I…" Her words muddled in the storm of her cries, but even then, what I heard didn't make any sense. I frowned, more concerned than curious.

"What did you say?"

"I always… I wanted you to bring them back."

I remember almost letting go of her. Cold anxiety washed down my back, infecting my stomach and my heart. I almost cried.

"Olaf, and the golems, and even the trolls, everyone… everything you touch is magical, I…" Anna looked at me, and I realized what she had been holding back all this time. The stares, the awkward conversations. All of it made sense. "All my life, you could do anything, Elsa. You're… you're so young. I thought… one day, I thought… you'd just bring them back, as young and alive as you are, and every time I looked at you—" She kept crying. She broke away from my hug and curled into herself. "I just wanted them back. I just wanted you to bring them all back…"

I had never felt so immature. So completely and utterly inappropriate. A child playing at being an adult. I feared even looking at her, much less touching her. My hands laid immobile, exactly where she left them. For a few seconds that felt like hours, all I did was watch my younger, yet so much older sister cry. And then it was her time to reach for my hand.

"But I know you can't. And it's not your fault. It's… nothing, nothing is your fault. Okay?" She forced herself to stop crying to look at me. I hadn't such strength. I could barely make out her face from behind my own tears. "I know you blame yourself for Fredrik, but it's okay. He would do it all over again. And so would I, or Kristoff, or even… even Magnus. We love you. I love you. That's never going to change."

It was my turn to hug her and sob, although not as loud. So many years of etiquette are hard to break down, but the night felt made for that.

"I love you too, Anna." I managed to say, between sobs. "I love you so much."

"Please remember you're never alone." Her voice cracked, but she was making so much effort… "Please don't ever lock yourself away again. Things may be difficult, but you can't… you can't shut people out. Not again. Please."

I made promises and commitments that I would try and struggle to follow, for the rest of my life. I couldn't understand what it entailed at that point, but regardless, I would not change anything. My sister would always be more important than… everything, really.

The conversation fizzled out, as our feelings diminished. The aurora sparkled in the sky, soothing as always. Anna eventually stood up and smiled. She said she felt better, and would retire for the night. I hugged her one last time, for a long time. I could feel her heartbeat against mine, the warmth of her body, the smell of her hair. I remember all those things.

Anna died peacefully the next morning.

I knew what came next, but did nothing to prevent it. Only a fool would ignore the signs. The way guards looked at me from their posts, the silence in the halls, the strained tone my advisors took. Magnus was coming for me, and there was nothing I could do about it.

Of course, that was a lie. There was plenty I could do about it. But I chose not to.

The population took Anna's death poorly. Kristoff was a source of pride and joy for the people— a commoner ascending into untold riches and power, yet keeping himself firmly planted in reality; never a snob or an aristocrat. But Anna… she gave people hope. Hope that I could never give them. Her death was the end of an era, and, apparently, I was the promise of a grim, endless future. The cursed child of the late king Agnarr: eternal ruler of Arendelle.

The kingdom was officially in mourning, with the flags and crests being replaced by their blackened versions. She never enjoyed the tradition, but it felt wrong waving colors in a world without her. A lot of things felt wrong in a world without her.

My reflection, for instance. Every day I looked at myself in the mirror, and somehow the same image looked more and more alien. So young, perfect and fit. Golden blond hair, large blue eyes, every aspect of myself that she had ever complimented was eternally static. She made me feel like no one ever did. And at that point, months after the last time I saw her, all I had was this youthful body and an aging mind, too sharp and too tired for what it must go through. Tired and filled with regrets, begging for it to stop.

I felt like an impostor in my own skin. And all the while, I could hear her.

I wanted you to bring them all back.

I held back tears every time I remembered it. She didn't mean it to hurt me, gods– she would never hurt me. But it scared me. Not because of what she thought of me, but because I had considered it before.

I had so many powers… with Olaf and Marshmallow and all my other minions, who was to say I could not command the dead as well as the cold? With effort, research, experimentation… maybe. I didn't know. I never tried.

It felt… wrong. The idea felt wrong in ways I could not quite explain. Wrong enough that I never tested it.

I wanted you to bring them all back.

Everything you touch is magical.

A line so primal, so inherent, I could not say I drew it myself. It was simply something mortals shouldn't concern themselves with. The line I would never cross.

You're so young.

The domain of the gods, of high spirits and—

Every time I looked at you—

A simple mortal queen should not propose to—

I love you.

But what if it went wrong, what if what came back was not—

"My Queen?"

My crisis would have to wait. Magnus was visiting my chambers. I scarcely noticed my frozen mirror, cold fog emanating from its edges. I recomposed myself and reached for a robe.

"Enter."

He was far from the twilight of his years, but Magnus was also far removed from his childhood. Time had been kind with him, in a way they had not been kind to his brother. He has his mother's eyes, but his father's strong chin. But the stare he gave me— cold, calculating, like a chess player… that, I did not recognize. Or maybe I did not want to.

"I hope I am not interrupting your routine."

"Not at all, nephew." Neither motioned for a hug, and I could feel something pressed him. "What can I do for you?"

He sighed briefly, an uncharacteristic show of… weakness, I suppose. At the time, I assumed he was simply fatigued. But even then, I could see something creeping at his back, a doubt that clawed away at his heart and resolve. He looked around my chambers and motioned to a chair. I nodded, and he let himself sink on it.

"Magnus, is everything okay?"

"I wish I had an easy answer for that." His gaze wouldn't meet mine, and his hands wouldn't stop moving. "Aunt Elsa, I… I don't know what to do."

I made myself a chair, out of habit. I couldn't tell if he flinched or not. "What is going on?"

"I…" He took a deep breath. "People expect things from me now. Big things. Terrible things. And I have no one to… talk to about it."

"You have me."

His eyes finally met with mine, and I pitied what I saw. As cold and calculating as he was, the man had just lost his mother, and was about to dethrone his aunt. He was drowning in a lake and had nowhere to go. He probably expected me to end his misery, somehow. But here he was, ready to open up.

Oh, this is it, I remember thinking. Not a revolution, not a sneak attack. Just… this.

"I don't understand why the people hate you so much. I really don't." He stood up slowly, walking towards my window. There was a good view of the city beneath, a growing metropolis that would, in a few decades, sprawl massively. "You've done so much for them. More than any other monarch. Yet they see your powers as a curse upon themselves, as well. Even though it has only given them prosperity."

I smiled at my nephew. He may not look like it, but he was still very young. "Not always, Magnus. I was not always this… in control. And some of our elderly might remember that." I joined him at the window. I could still recognize my favorite spots. Anna's favorite's spots, too. Gods, everything hurt. "The old feed the young with stories, exaggerated to what sides they support. Brave men become heroes, and the inexplicable becomes… other." My gaze lowered to the empty castle grounds. I yearned for the days where children played in our yards. This silence, the castle gates closed… it was far too reminiscent of darker times. "I am not sure I'm not afraid, myself."

He stared as me, as if studying his options. Finally, he said, in a genuine tone. "I'm not afraid of you. I… I never was. Never could be. You're my Aunt Elsa."

His statement had been more for his sake than mine. "I appreciate it."

"Yet now that mother passed away, they…"

"Yes." I didn't need to hear it from him. I was fully aware. "They expect you to overtake me."

"You knew?" He wasn't surprised, but I heard the tinge of regret in his voice. "You knew it would be me?" I smiled. "Since when?"

"Since Fredrik."

He stepped away, breathing heavier than before. This confrontation had clearly been different in his mind. He probably expected revolt, and a spectacular show of magic to fight against. Not his aunt, wearing a robe, casually gazing at a city she recognized far too well, but not nearly enough anymore.

"I couldn't hate you. I tried, I tried so hard." He turned to face me, and I finally saw the dagger he always carried. Had he planned to kill me today? Or was it just in case? "I wanted to blame you for him. I wanted to blame you for everything the people said about our family, but it's… not. It's not you. That's just how they are."

"How?"

"Look out there!" His hand motioned outside, but I maintained eye contact. "They will blame their next monarch for their problems, too! And the one after that! They'll spread rumors about him, they'll tear him down, they'll… they'll…"

I acted slowly. My hands met his, and almost surprised me with how cold he felt. This had been bubbling for a long time. "Go on."

"They're not afraid of you. They just don't understand, you're just— you're just different. They don't want to understand. And that's enough."

I held his hands, and for a moment, I wished I could control fire. My nephew was so cold.

"I don't want this, Aunt Elsa." Magnus's tears trickled down his face, and I recognized the strong boy who would ask for protection after being mischievous. I recognized the child who would stay with me for hours studying maps, constellations and history books. He needed help. "I just want my brother to live well. I don't know what to do."

"Magnus…" The right thing to do was obvious. It's what she would have done. "You're not alone. You will never be. I promise."

He held me, and I held him back.

Magnus and I settled on a private transfer of power, to be announced once the transition was well underway. The royal council approved of the idea, and although the lack of bloodshed might irritate some of the population, we decided not to appeal to violence when we could appeal to common sense.

Fact of the matter is, our system had been built with succession in mind. Although the idea of an immortal monarch sounds easy to handle on paper, the world stage does not work like that. Governments changed frequently, and one static block of ice in the middle of a swimming lake was sometimes not as viable as one would hope. Besides, even if Arendelle was a peaceful nation, that did not mean others were not intimated by or wary of my powers. Having an immortal master of ice magic as the head of government for nearly a century was starting to make the wrong pieces move in the politics table.

More than that, the people liked Magnus. They had loved the twins since birth, had suffered with Magnus when Fredrik was wounded, and dreamed of the day they would go to one of their coronations. This was a return to a leader the new generation loved, and a brighter future for the common man. At least, that was what my intelligence personnel told me was the popular sentiment. For me, the important part was to keep the people happy, and to get me out of the spotlight.

Arendelle was my home, but I could feel it. My time here was coming to an end.

Not literally, of course – at this point, I was fully convinced my powers would always prevent me from expiring. But the place I could truly fit in, the one I yearned to go back to every time danger peaked its head at me, was dead. I had buried her, and given the throne to her smartest son. If the life of an immortal laid bare before me, I needed time to adjust to it. The irony, of course, was not lost in me. I had all the time in the world.

My memory is not perfect, but some memories stand out. I remember Magnus being announced as king, his brother sitting by his side with a somber, yet genuine smile on his face. The crowds filled the castle grounds once more, as I stared down from a relatively secluded tower. He insisted I should be there with him, that there was still a chance to regain the people's love, but I politely refused. That was not the point of this. The point of this, more than anything, was freedom.

I could finally walk around my castle without royal responsibility. I decided to take a more private role in court, and limit people's knowledge that I was still somewhat in power. The conspirators would always say I was behind the curtain, manipulating events as I saw fit, but the truth is that I could not be bothered. Arendelle was happy, its technology boomed, its economy was strong, and its children were well fed. And every year, winter came whenever more convenient.

I occupied myself with small errands, taking care of Fredrik, and conversing with the trolls. That was probably the moment when I realized the hidden depths of my magic powers. The forest was home to an untold number of creatures — sometimes I would lose myself in its woods like a child, meeting inhabitants of all colors, shapes and sizes. The woods felt infinite, and the knowledge hidden there kept me coming back for years. I would sometimes return to the castle after weeks, once a whole year, of absence, but barely feel time moving forward. That would become a common theme. When Fredrik passed away peacefully, I fully immersed myself into my studies.

In a decade or two, I would be one hundred years old. The weight of the idea that I only knew about Arendelle was heavier by the minute. Of course, I had traveled before — it would be remiss of me to rule a country if I had no international ties. But to truly explore this world, to see its wonders and what lies beyond its horizons… those adventures had never been meant for me. Until now, that is.

I stayed in the castle for a while longer. The council took to Magnus like a son, probably happy to have the Ice Witch away from world powers. Many times, my nephew confided in me his doubts and worries, and I would do my best to advise him. But far into his life, when he decided to marry and have children; when I finally held in my arms his little daughter, Annita, I knew it was time. Everything was set up. The Kingdom of Arendelle was ready to move on without me.

So, in the dead of night, after saying my goodbyes, I left. But not alone.

I could hear the tiny footsteps behind me. I could feel the air growing colder. I turned around, and Olaf was there.

"Uh," he started, as if his presence was embarrassing. "I know you said you're leaving, but… do you really have to?"

I kneeled, my ice gown doing waves around the floor. His childish face was nostalgic. At this point, I knew he understood me. Better than anyone.

"It is for the best, my friend. Everything is going well. They don't need me, and that's how it should be."

His little wooden arms held my arm, and I realized he was scared.

"Bu-bu-but, where will you go? The world is so much different now, it's… it's getting so loud, so… cold. And not in a good way, not like us. I know I talked a lot about traveling, but really, I don't… I don't know if you're gonna like what you see out there. Or if they're gonna like you."

"Well, then why don't you come along?" I smiled at his surprise. I had created many golems throughout my life, but Olaf was special. He was simple and pure. Over time, I lost many things, including my capacity for those feelings. No golem was ever like him. "I need a knight in shining armor to protect me from the dangers of the world, after all. You could show me your favorite parts."

"I…" I realized had neglected to think about what he expected the rest of his life to be. He was probably looking forward to staying with Annita, watching her grow into a beautiful young woman, and be her knight in shining armor. But he turned around and looked at the castle one more time. It was so far removed from the castle he had first called his home, and I knew he felt it, too. "I don't know. This feels so much bigger than what I was supposed to do. Should I?"

"I won't tell you what to do, my friend. But you will always have a place by my side."

I gave his forehead a kiss and got up to walk away. This had been delayed long enough. The rest of the world waited for me.

And my little friend, with tiny footstep sounds behind me.

Here, at the edge of myself, I think back on my beginnings a lot.

The world was a terrifying place. A loud place, unfriendly place, ever-changing place. And it was beautiful. Glorious. Everything I could ask for, and more.

Watching everything from within, yet always from a distance, felt like a grand play that I never wanted to stop watching. Eventually, it felt like a movie, too. I went on adventures. I met friends. I was betrayed, and betrayed false allies. I led armies and was a soldier. I did things I deeply regret. I fell in love.

But more than anything, I lost so much. Time heals all wounds, but time also causes them. Burying my lovers was almost as hard as burying my sister. But I never secluded myself again. No ice castles, no giant fortresses of solitude. I built homes and houses for those whom I loved, but never only for myself.

Yet here I am. Watching the aurora once more, in a far away, icy wonderland. No matter where I look, I am by myself.

"Boom! I caught one!"

Aside from Olaf, of course.

"Look! Look!" His little hands somehow held up an ice worm. It was disgusting, but Olaf seemed to be enamored with it. "Look at this little guy! I can't believe he was under the snow this whole time!"

"I don't think he appreciates being off the snow, Olaf."

"Ah… I guess that makes sense. He's an ice worm after all. Hey, why wasn't he in ice, then? Hey buddy, why weren't you on i—Aaah! Aaaah! Out! Out!" The worm darted inside his body, and Olaf tried desperately to get rid of him. I watched and laughed, almost feeling innocent.

I eventually helped, and we watched the light shows together. For a loud, scary place, the world felt pretty quiet at that point.

"It reminds me of Anna." He said, not an ounce of sadness in his voice. "I'm glad I got to meet her."

I looked at the snowman. We had talked about this before, and it never stopped surprising me how wise he could sound.

"Me too, Olaf." I missed her, but I didn't cry. The aurora was filled with too many good memories to do so. "I'm glad as well."