Master of Her Heart

Harvest

The queen paced the floor, wringing her hands so nervously that she was afraid she might break her fingers. And she might've, were they not already involuntarily encased in a thick, protective sheath of ice.

It was hard to believe that it had already been hardly a week since Elsa had thawed the kingdom, and mere hours since her advisors had returned with the bad news–quite possibly the worst news Elsa had received since the shipwreck that had claimed the lives of her parents, the former King and Queen of Arendelle.

Every so often she paused to gaze out of the window of her office chamber, at the sunny streets of Arendelle below and the fjord beyond. But the sight of her kingdom, which should have been an assuring, constitution-fortifying sight for any monarch, only wrenched her heart tighter.

After all, it was her fault that her subjects had suffered such a devastating loss. And they would only continue to suffer. Because of her actions.

Unless she came up with something.

The clacking of hurried footsteps grew gradually closer in the hall outside the queen's office, until the door flew open in a flurry of activity and olive-green wool, the Princess of Arendelle rushing through it without delay.

"Elsa, I came as soon as I heard," Anna gasped, the auburn tint of her ginger braids shining like fire in the sun-speckled room as she pulled her older sister in for a hug. "Are you okay?"

Still in a daze, Elsa nodded and allowed herself to be held. "I'm well. Or, rather, as well as I can be, considering the," she choked on the last word, "... circumstances."

Anna grimaced in understanding of the weight behind the words and pulled back, a hand on either of the queen's shoulders as she peered into her face, blue eyes meeting shimmery blue. "None of this is your fault."

A laugh like a scoff bubbled up and escaped from Elsa's throat before she could stop it. Anna looked at her more sternly.

"It isn't your fault," she reiterated, pointedly.

But of course it was Elsa's fault. Her deep freeze had destroyed the harvest. Every farmer in Arendelle had lost his crop. All because she couldn't control her powers. All because she couldn't control herself.

"Well," Elsa started airily, a sort of macabre sarcasm dripping into her tone as she smoothed out the front of her bodice, thawing the ice from her fingers as she did so. "If it isn't my fault now, it surely will be soon. With our meager grain stores and abysmal lack of trade prospects, all of Arendelle shall be starved by Yuletide. And I'll have a mob on my doorstep, demanding my head in retribution."

She spun away from her sister and wrapped her arms around herself, holding herself tightly. She wished more than anything that it was just a nightmare she could wake herself up from. To be sure that it wasn't, she gave her upper arm a pinch, and winced at the pain.

Anna scoffed dramatically. "Oh, puh-lease. Public beheadings were all the rage in France years ago, but they're so out of vogue now. I like to believe that things are a bit more civil nowadays."

"Anna, beliefs and facts are two wildly different concepts." Elsa turned slightly, to speak to her sister from over her shoulder. "Just as we all believed that Prince Hans of the Southern Isles had good intentions when he stepped foot onto our shores, the fact is that he's a villain with a hunger for power and eyes only for our kingdom."

The younger sister soured at the backhanded mention of her faux engagement and how willingly she had fallen into his trap, her bottom lip pouting. "Yeah, well, it's too bad he turned out to be such a monster. He might've been able to help." She threw her hands up. "Hell, if we'd have been married by now, he might've even put his knowledge of the harvest to good use to save the crop before too much damage had been done."