He watched her, irritation visible on his face.

She was seven, and playing with her doll in solitude. It was clear to him that she was bored, judging by the fact that she sat with her head leaning on her palm, slowly dragging her toy across the cold floor.

He was the guardian of fun, and he couldn't even make her smile. With every snow flurry he made to cheer her up, fear flashed across her face as she hastily shoved her hands into the folds of her skirt, terrified that she had created it. He sat cross-legged in front of her, and studied her. She was petite, and her features were as delicate as a snowflake. White blond lashes framed her ice blue eyes. Her tiny nose had a graceful dip, and her lips were thin and pink, like the horizon right before the break of dawn.

He noticed that even though she had the face of a child, there were hints of the maturity and worry of an adult.

"Elsa!" piped a tiny voice from outside the door. "Do you want to build a snowman?"

Elsa sighed, "Go away, Anna." There was the sound of tiny footsteps retreating, then silence.

The young girl went back to staring past the guardian, who she could not see, and returned to mindlessly toying with her doll, a frown on her face. He decided there was nothing he could do to entertain her, so he slipped out the open window into the wind.

He was relieved to see that she was less stressed with her new-found hobby.

She was eleven, and had recently taken an interest to looking out her window. It gave her a temporary escape from the cold reality that she thought was her life, and made her happy to see all the different people down below. He was floating right outside her window, and as he touched the glass, she moved her hand to the same exact spot. Immediately magic flowed from her small hand, and produced sharp, cruel-looking icicles on the clear glass. She quickly pulled her hand away, frightened at what she had done. To lessen her fear, he turned her icicles into more aesthetic ones, with soft swirls and curlicues of frost.

However, she called out for her parents, and he saw that it only made her grow more anxious.

He looked down in shame for scaring the girl, and left.

He stood in a corner of her room, not knowing what to do.

"I'm scared," cried Elsa. "It's getting stronger!"

Her father pleaded with her to calm down, and came close to comfort her. She only screamed at him to stay back, reminding him that she did not want to hurt him. Her mother nodded, and guided the king out of the room.

Once the almost-fourteen-year-old thought she was alone, she paced back and forth. Back and forth.

"Control it, Elsa. Conceal, don't feel it. Don't feel it… Don't feel. Don't feel," she repeated over and over again.

He grew frustrated. He could not risk making snow to make her smile - she would only cry. She couldn't see or hear him, so he couldn't even tell her that he wanted to help her, that he was there for her, even if it was just for support. So, he floated over to her, rubbed her head affectionately, and flew away.

His heart was broken.

She was lying against her door, her face a mixture of angst, tiredness, and grief. Grief. Grief for the death of her parents. She was eighteen, and an orphan. And he still could not help her.

He used to think that her panic attacks were terrible, but this was worse than he could have imagined. Tears streaked her face, her eyes swimming with emotion. Her beautiful mouth seemed to be permanently etched into a frown, and her face looked tired. So tired. It made him sick to his stomach to see her like this, but he found it strangely beautiful.

No.

Raw.

The word was raw. She was raw and beautiful and real. She was Elsa, his Elsa. And his Elsa was in a state of misery. The only people she ever came close with were gone, their bodies being buried on a green hill. He gathered her into his arms and embraced her. Although she could not feel it, she was greeted with a light breeze and a tingling chill. She was slightly comforted before she fell back into her suffering. It was a small relief, but it was some.

He had never been more proud.

She was twenty-one. She had been coronated, the kingdom had found out her secret, and she had thawed the storm she accidentally created.

"Are you ready?" shouted Elsa, no longer afraid of showing her true self.

The crowd murmured in excitement, eager to see their queen work her magic. She struck a delicate heel into the ground, which turned the cobblestones into ice for her subjects to skate upon. She swirled her hands around each other, creating a sphere of her ice magic between her palms, and threw it high in the air. A giant snowflake formed in the sky before bursting, creating snow that fell all around the people. The guardian used a bit of his own magic to ensure that the snow would not stop falling for a short while.

The queen knew that this was not her doing, and immediately stopped helping her sister to ice skate. Her sibling carried on with ease, and Elsa was soon left alone on the ice.

Well, almost alone.

He stood in front of her, and gazed at the girl. He saw the same pink lips, the smart nose, and the white blond hair. But the eyes, the eyes had changed.

There was not a trace of worry in them, but a confidence that blazed within her pupils. She was no longer the small child he had watched over all these years, but a strong young woman. He saw that she didn't need him anymore – she never did, anyways – and decided to leave her kingdom forever, in the hands of the young ruler, who was currently looking around for who had caused the sky to continue snowing.

But before he left…

The guardian flew up so close in front of her that he was able to plant a kiss to her forehead. As his lips touched her brow, sparks of magic and frost flew around her bangs.

And she smiled.

She smiled.