The palace was quieter than usual. Snowflakes drifted in slow circles above the grand hall, a soft hush clinging to the walls. Young Elsa sat curled in a corner, hugging her knees, eyes red from crying. The streak of ice she had accidentally cast still shimmered faintly on the stone floor.She had hurt Anna.Her little sister.Even now, the memory replayed in painful loops — Anna laughing, jumping, calling out, “Again! Again!” before that icy blast sent her flying.Queen Iduna and King Agnarr had rushed to her side, taken Anna away, called for help… and Elsa had been left alone. Not as punishment, but out of fear. Out of protection.Her room was locked again. Gloves placed firmly on her hands.“Conceal it. Don’t feel it. Don’t let it show.”Her mother’s words echoed in her mind.But even now, in her isolation, the air grew colder. The more she feared, the more the frost grew. She gripped her gloved hands and sobbed.Then came a soft knock at the frosted window. Tap. Tap.Elsa glanced up, startled.A boy — not much older than her — stood outside on the balcony railing, balancing barefoot on the snow. His white hair ruffled in the breeze, a crooked grin on his face. Frost clung to the hem of his hoodie.He looked like the snow.He looked like magic.She stared.He waved.She didn’t move.But somehow… she knew he wasn’t a threat.The balcony doors creaked open with a cold gust, and the boy stepped inside, crunching softly on the thin ice below.

“…Who are you?” Her voice trembled like her fingers.