When It Starts to Snow

The gates of Arendelle Castle had been open for six months. People could come and go as they pleased—which they did often, for it hadn't taken long for stories of "the Snow Queen of Arendelle" to spread far and wide. In every land there was talk of the extravagant parties that the royal siblings held on important dates, during which occasions the Snow Queen herself would transform the castle courtyards into beautiful ice-skating rinks no matter what the time of year. There was always music, dancing, talk, and laughter. After years of hiding in solitude, Queen Elsa was finally meeting her subjects, and they loved her.

The sun had set hours ago. Elsa stood on one of the balconies with her hands resting lightly on the railing, her eyes closed as she let the frigid December wind play her braided hair across her shoulders. Tiny, invisible ice crystals stung her cheeks, hands, and nose, but rather than being made uncomfortable by it, she relished the feeling. Somehow the chill that descended naturally upon the Earth in winter had always been more comforting, more magical than the frost and snow conjured from the air by her own hand. She breathed calmly, evenly, her chilled breath exiting her lungs without creating a cloud under her nose. Her face softened, the corners of her mouth tilting upwards. It feltso good to smile, really smile, not fake it like she had been forced to for thirteen years.

She opened her eyes and gazed down over Arendelle. What she could see of her kingdom was cloaked in darkness, with the soft, warm glow of candles and log fires flickering through the windows of every house. Above, the stars and moon were obscured by a thick blanket of clouds from which snowflakes drifted down. The world was quiet but for the wind tickling her ears. No human voices could be heard, for which she was grateful. While Elsa was learning to enjoy the company of others, something she had been denied for the majority of her life, she enjoyed her solitude as well. Perhaps it came innately with the powers she'd been born with. Maybe the feelings were residual from the time she'd been forced to spend alone as a child locked in her room. Either way, she felt calmest and most at peace when she was by herself.

There was a thin layer of frost on the railing. Elsa traced her finger over it, leaving a trail and stirring the crystals into the air. They sparkled, shimmering, twirling around her fingers and then sailing off into the dark sky. She stepped back from the railing, wriggling her fingers and enjoying the feeling of the wind against the bare skin. Why had she everworn gloves for so long?

She was about to turn and go back inside when running footsteps caught her attention and she looked sharply at the door leading to the balcony.

"Your Majesty!" someone cried, dashing onto the balcony and skidding on the icy ground. Elsa caught the flailing woman before she could fall, letting her regain her balance and flicking her hand at the floor. The ice on the balcony receded, creating a dry area for the two to stand on. "Thank you," the woman said breathlessly, pushing her hair back into the band around her head. It was Gerda, a servant who had been employed at the castle since before Elsa was born, and her cheeks were flushed with excitement.

"Gerda!" Elsa said with a light laugh. "What is it?"

Gerda, speechless, thrust a rolled-up message at her. Elsa took the paper from her and unrolled it, reading through it. Her eyes widened. Her hands turned numb, the paper slipping through her fingers and drifting to the ground before the wind picked up and caught it, lifting it up and swirling it around their heads in a sudden flurry of snow.

Gerda took a step backward and spoke up in a timid voice. "Queen Elsa?"

Elsa blinked, snapping out of her trance-like state. She located the notice, still whirling around their heads, and plucked it from the air with her fingertips. Her eyes flew over it again and the breath caught in her throat. Her face didn't quite know what to do—her expression hovered somewhere between a stunned, hopeful smile and sheer incredulity. Wetness glistened in her eyes but she lifted her chin, forcing the tears back, and stared at Gerda over the paper. "Did you read this?" she asked, struggling to keep her voice level.