The man known in Arendelle as Karl, advisor to the King, sat demurely outside the chambers of Prince Hans of the Southern Isles, thinking about ice.

Ice was never given much thought in Arendelle - it was so much of a constant on the hills and woods of his native land that for most it was simply a nuisance to be shoveled and plowed away into gray heaps by the roadside, wished only to be melted away by an early Spring.

Many years before, Karl remembered a particularly harsh Winter come early. Summer rushed headlong through Autumn, felling lush green leaves to float on harsh winds down to frosted soil, leaving bare branches in place of boughs of gold. The winds brought wolves from the mountains and into the valleys, destroying sheep and cattle, horses and oxen. Babies ripped from mother's breast. Pale moonlight turned ragged, snow clogged fields of wheat to cracked-glass.

When Karl's father died, extremities blackened from cold in a last ditch effort to save the fields, he and his mother and sister, stomachs shouting out in emptiness, limped their way to Arendelle. They found little solace there. He remembered his mother struggling to tell Karl why she had to sell herself at the docks, why he and his sister had to toil in a workhouse for twelve hours a day to afford bread, and why they were lucky to have even that: Men, women, and children lay wasted and spent on street corners, in rubbish-filled gullies, and in every conceivable orifice of the city, skin pulled taut against cold and brittle bones. They slept outside, shivering under thin blankets, not knowing each night if they would wake up in the morning, starvation always around the corner. The Kingdom was like a beat dog; coerced into submission by the totalitarian strength of Winter. One morning his sister did not wake up, and one night his mother did not return.

Karl's reminiscences were interrupted by one of Prince Hans' attendants peeking furtively around the edge of the door, nodding his permission to enter; Karl and Hans were well beyond formal visits and all the pomp and attention that came with them.

He strode into the small chamber, footsteps sending muffled echoes off dark stone walls. Dust motes danced on a beam of sunlight out of a small window in the East wall, landing on the desk in front of the auburn-haired prince, whose hands folded loosely in front of him.

"I trust your voyage was smooth and uneventful?" Hans asked.

"Very much so, I couldn't have asked for better weather on the North Sea at this time of year" Karl replied, taking his seat in an elaborately carved mahogany chair. "I trust you've been well?"

Hans smiled. "Well, if you mean to inquire about the state of my brotherly relations - they are much improved. "Anders and Nikolaj were killed last month in a shipwreck on their way to Schleswig." He said it like a jibe.

"Three others have been married off in Denmark, Austria, and Bavaria, never to return. Three are recluses, two are infirm and one is insane. The castle has grown quiet… but enough of me." Hans leaned forward, an eager glint in his eye. "Are these rumors out of Arendelle true? Is the King truly on the verge of death?"

"They are true." Karl responded, matter-of-factly.

"How soon?"

"Weeks, no more."

"Then we must move forward. I must propose to her as soon as possible." Hans said, now leaning back, pensive. Karl held up his hands. "Don't be hasty. We cannot appear to take advantage. Elsa must be allowed the proper time to grieve first."

"Yes, yes… of course." Hans said, grasping his chin and staring at the papers in front of him.

"Once he dies, she won't… reveal-"

"Her powers? No, I know for sure she won't use them unless provoked," he stated, shaking his head. "However when the proper circumstances are reached, I believe she will - our goals for Elsa depend upon it. My spies among the servants have told me much about her demeanor." Karl paused, smirk curling upon his lips. "She will be devastating when pushed."

Hans leaned in. Narrowed his eyes. "And the trigger?"

"I've drawn quite the list of political malcontents to my side during my tenure under the beloved King - in the courts, in the nascent opposition, in the Navy. Even in the Church. Queen Elsa will have no shortage of enemies on which we can lean."

"What about-"

"Anna?" Karl cocked his eyebrow and scoffed. "We needn't worry about her. She's a simple girl and will not get in our way. Her and Elsa have not truly spoken in years. I doubt she really cares for her at all." He said, waving his hand flippantly.

Hans nearly sighed. "Sounds like we would get along."

"Don't lose sight, Hans," Karl insisted. "Your mission is to marry Elsa, and nothing more. Remember that she is our key to Europe." Karl had grown in his seat and now seemed to tower over the prince despite his age and stature.

"I know. I thank you for trusting me with this… duty… and opportunity."

Hans finally sat back and peered out the window to the glowing horizon - the only thing seeming to separate him from the object of his desires.

One more piece in the puzzle. Karl thought. He too gazed out the window, thinking again about ice.

Anna had been visiting the King's chambers alone for weeks. As always, she was greeted by a closed door, like so many others in her life - as if the universe itself were trying to separate her from those she loved. Eyes raw and rimmed with red, Anna knocked lightly and waited to be admitted. She spent most of the day crying. Not sobbing - sometimes not even shedding tears - but in a sort of state of desperate emotional anguish that enveloped her heart like a wet blanket. A crying of the soul.

Her eyes lifted when she heard the lock click on the other side, and the door swept aside to reveal the craggy face of the Royal physician.

"Your highness" the physician intoned.

Anna only nodded. Conversation had grown less frequent recently. Whatever conversation there was around the castle was quiet and strained: Evening had fallen over their collective hearts.

"How is he?" she finally asked, at last bringing her eyes to meet the physician's.

"Better. The coughing is not as bad and there is less blood than before; however, Tuberculosis is a terrible disease and comes and goes in its intensity, but things seem promising for now."

She could see the past the thinly veiled lie. Anna knew the truth; she had known for weeks. Her father would die, and soon. The physician looked away, face expressionless but concealing a knowing sense of sadness and shame.

After Anna had gathered herself yet again, she made her way slowly to her father's bedside and sat in the small chair that rested there permanently, meant just for her.

All she could focus on was his shrunken frame and pale, tortured face - chest rising and falling imperceptibly. She realized how little the man who lay before her resembled the father whom she had loved so dearly. He had become a living wraith, but Anna could remember how he had been. How they used to go riding together in the mountains, pursuing alpine streams to picnic at glacial lakes, or how she used watched him at court when he seemed to occupy the throne with such a presence that he was larger than the world.

Anna was so lost in past that she hardly registered the king opening his eyes.

The first sound out of his mouth was not that of a heartfelt greeting but that of a deep gurgle and a raucous coughing that seemed to stretch on and on, forcing Anna to look away from the King with its intensity.

"M-my beautiful daughter," he finally managed, choking back phlegm. He grinned despite himself.

Anna's lips curled into a pained smile at the show of sincerity, not even half as wide as her father's. Sudden emotion welled behind her eyes, but she would not let tears fall, not here.

"Oh Papa..." Anna let actions finish her words, clasping his thin, veiny hands in her own and looking expectantly into his eyes.

"My dear Anna…" The King began, a little stronger; "you never paid much attention to etiquette, did you?"

Anna did realize that she had lapsed into calling him papa, something she hadn't done in years. She supposed that whatever barriers of formal etiquette that existed between them had been worn down by the present situation, although she gave it to father for noticing such trifles in his current state. She even managed to giggle at the remark.

"No papa, and don't think I'll ever change." she replied softly.

"I know - you were always so stubborn. I remember when it took your mother and I almost two years to get you to eat anything but chocolate, and…"

A sudden cough interrupted the anecdote. The physician hurried over to the bedside, gently lifting the King's head from the pillow and placing a small pan under his chin. Straining to keep his head still enough, he managed to spew a wad of phlegm and blood that dropped off his chin and into the pan with a sickening splash. The King fell back onto the pillow, breath taken out of him, eyes glazed over and body spent. Somehow, he had shrunk even further than before - whatever exuberance he had at first seeing Anna was gone. He appeared as a man on the verge of death.

"It's still my favorite" she whispered. Tears met no resistance now, and fell down her cheeks in two warm rivulets, but the King didn't notice.

"It's so beautiful outside. I wish I had seen more of it. Being in charge... didn't leave much time. So little time."

"Don't despair papa" Anna pleaded, but without the sincerity she wished to impart. Something inside Anna had resigned itself.

The King had his head turned away from Anna. Gazed longingly out the window.. "It's times like these that make you remember the little things. Things so beautiful you don't even realize them when they're right there in front of you, staring you in the face. The touch of the first snowflakes of winter on your face, colors of a sunset on the sea. The kind of love only family can give..." He trailed off and turned away from the window and towards Anna.

Anna was stunned by her father's brief soliloquy. He was normally a pragmatic man of few words, but who now waxed poetic. Her father had become more determined: "Appreciate those things while you can, Anna, because it will get harder. Soon it will become very hard."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"There is something that I am going to ask of you, Anna, that will not be easy for you to understand, but which you must learn to understand, and accept." A hardness had returned to the King's voice that had been absent for weeks. His face betrayed no frailty now. Anna nodded imperceptibly.

"Elsa..."

Her eyebrows narrowed at the mention of her enigmatic older sister whom she had not seen in weeks - not since Anna had brought her news of their father's illness, news which was met with a reaction as cold as ice-walls of the fjord around them. She didn't think Elsa visited their father often.

"Elsa" He began again, "is… damaged-"

"And inconsiderate. She never even visits you." she said with a hint of venom in her voice. "You're her father, you think that she would care."

"She has visited me, and It's not a matter of caring, Anna. There are things about Elsa - about myself, that you don't understand, that you can't even imagine. Things that would shame me" the King trailed off, eyes staring off into space.

Anna was confused. She always thought that Elsa was mentally ill, incredibly shy, simply frightened of the world outside her room, or all three.

The sickly man snapped out of his momentary stupor: "But that is a matter for another time. You will know everything soon - she will show you. I promise."

Suddenly an ocean of secrets exposed its wide vista to her perception - possibilities revealing themselves and being forgotten again, as if she could catch a glimpse of that ocean's floor if not for the crash of waves on the surface. Show me? Anna thought, still at a loss.

"As I said, Elsa herself as well as her image are damaged. I fear that she is well past being accepted by the Court or by Arendelle, let alone other nations on our doorstep. The rumors about her… run too deep. It is a dangerous time to be a monarch and be doubted so widely." For the first time during his illness, the King seemed genuinely afraid. "People are stirring, these so-called Constitutionalists have been gaining strength in the towns.. Norway is becoming bold. Times are changing, and you and Elsa will be left to deal with these problems when I am gone."

Anna sobered at the reminder of her father's illness - momentarily forgotten among the swirling questions surrounding her sister.

"What can we do?" she asked meekly. Her father looked at her for a long time after that, face hiding whatever emotion or intention he had.

"Be strong Anna."

"I'll try papa. I'll try."

Her father breathed deeply, steeling Anna with his gaze.

"Elsa cannot be queen."

The statement seemed to hang in the air between them.

Anna was surprised at her own reaction: None whatsoever. Of course she knew. Elsa? How could someone who can count the number of people she has ever talked to on one hand rule a kingdom? She hated to admit it but she knew that Elsa would fail as Queen, to the ruin of Arendelle.

"I am naming you as my heir. You will rule with justice and compassion. Your heart is strong and kind and your mind keen to the thoughts and feelings of others. You will not fail Arendelle."

The man who had sunken so far from the world into despair was briefly King once again.

Anna breathed deeply, staring down at her hands folded neatly in her lap. I cannot change this.

"Does she know?"

"No."