The King of Arendelle

Gift Liv

"From all the flowers trooped little ladies and gentlemen delightful to behold. Every one of them brought Thumbelina a present, but the best gift of all was a pair of wings that had belonged to a large silver fly. When these were made fast to her back, she too could flit from flower to flower. Everyone rejoiced, as the swallow perched above them in his nest and sang his very best songs for them. He was sad though, deep down in his heart, for he liked Thumbelina so much that he wanted never to part with her.

"You shall no longer be called Thumbelina," the flower spirit told her. " That name is too ugly for anyone as pretty as you are. We shall call you Maia."

"Hey! I like Thumbelina!" Exclaimed Agnes, nestled in her father's lap. He chuckled at her seriousness, then she tugged on his sleeve. "Finish, finish!"

And he read the rest:

"Good-bye, good-bye," said the swallow. He flew away again from the warm countries, back to far-away Denmark, where he had a little nest over the window of the man who can tell you fairy tales. To him the bird sang, "Chirp, chirp! Chirp, chirp!" and that's how we heard the whole story."

With a sigh, he closed the book, "Okay, nighttime story, done. Now it's bedtime." Agnes had been stalling her bedtime by asking for little things from her father—and admittedly, he allowed himself to be fooled to spend more time with her. First, she wanted some hot chocolate, then she wanted her Daddy to do one of his special magic tricks for her, and finally, she wanted a bedtime story.

He had just begun to tuck her into her blanket when she said, "One more time, Daddy?" He knew what she was talking about.

Though he was tired, her father smirked. "All right. One more. But that's it."

Agnes Overland giggled excitedly and watched her father make tiny snow bunnies hop around on her bed and then disappear. She was always begging her mother and father to conjure up ice-skating rinks and snowmen and other forms of icy entertainment for her enjoyment—sometimes being rather persistent about it, as little children could be. But to her credit, her parents always obliged.

Nothing made them happier than to see their little one smile. And who could be luckier than her to have magical parents?

Though Agnes did not have powers like her mother or father, she had a special spirit of her own, with boundless curiosity and exuberance.

Jackson Overland then brushed his daughter's rather wild bangs out of her face, "Okay, now it's bedtime. Far past it, actually." He tucked her in beneath her blankets, "I'll see you in the morning." He caressed her chin and went towards her bedroom door. He could hear Agnes shuffling in bed like she was about to try and sneak out. Without turning around, Jack added, "You better get to sleep soon or else Sandman might miss us."

At that, she quickly cocooned herself in the covers and squeezed her eyes shut. One of these days, she was certain she would catch the Sandman when he entered her room to help her sleep. She so dearly wanted to see his pretty, golden sand twinkling across her room the way her mother had described it would.

With a small sigh of relief, Jack closed the door and went down the darkened hallway to his own chamber, where his wife was already asleep.

Hours later, a sharp cry roared through the castle. Loud screeching that had Jack jump out of his sleep and go pale with fear.

"Agnes!" He called in a panic. Without even waking his wife, Jack dove out of the room, running towards the noise. What was happening? Who had her? Heart seized with terror, Jack threw the doors of her bedroom open.

Her room wasn't there. Instead, it was a forest covered in snow.

Even more horrifying, Agnes. Alone. Trapped on a crackling pond.