Jack

Elsa was what some might call a "problem child." Her behavior was exemplary in most cases, but it was her actions that were the problem. Again, she was a sweet and gentle child, and the actions were not her fault. It was simply the fact that she could not control herself. I often leave home in the summer to bring winter to other parts of the world, but it is never a surprise to me anymore to return to winter in my own home. Snowmen decorate the halls and the ballroom becomes an ice rink, and it is my duty to clean it all up when I get back. I figured that it was a phase she was going through at a young age, and her ice powers would come under control after a while.

Elsa apologizes and I punish her lightly, but nothing can ever change what happens, so year after year I go through the same thing. It all changed, though, when my wife Rapunzel (long story for another time) had another daughter. We named her Anna. Anna was much wilder than her sister and found my ice powers amazing. She loved when I brought snow and would spend hours building catching snowflakes on her tongue and making lopsided angels in the powder. More problems came when she grew to toddler age and had enough energy to be awake late into the night, when I was out or sleeping. To satisfy her boredom, she would often wake Elsa up for entertainment.

Elsa didn't mind, of course. Her powers were just as wondrous to her as they were for Anna, but as she was getting older, she was understanding more and more that she needed to use them less to avoid suspicion from others. Anna came as a welcome excuse to use them without care, even if said excuse came in the middle of the night with only the northern lights to light the castle halls. They would always run barefoot to the ballroom where there was more room to play, and where nearly every morning, I would have to clean up a half-melted winter wonderland. Instead of going through the routine only once a year, I now had to endure it nearly every day.

I still didn't really mind, though. In fact, it thrilled me to know that my powers had been passed on to at least one of my children, and I felt even closer to the eldest when I spent time trying to teach her how to use them. Only, she never learned. I couldn't understand it. Sure, she could form snowflakes easy enough, and as she grew older, she got strong enough to cause a blizzard in a room, but the problem was that she was getting stronger.

I didn't think anything of it until one day, as my daughters were chasing me down the halls in a game of tag (I was flying to keep the game interesting), Elsa paused to catch her breath and leaned against the wall. Where her hand touched, ice suddenly coated the entire section of wall, even freezing over a lantern above her head. This caused me to pause and drift back over to her, where Anna swiftly tagged me and continued running down the hallway. Elsa stared at me with my own blue eyes, looking as surprised as I felt. Still, I only cleaned up the mess, patted her hair (and odd mixture of my white and Rapunzel's blonde), and told her to be more careful. Reassured, she smiled and ran after her sister. I looked back at the spot that had just been frozen and shrugged. Even I still frosted surfaces by accident. This was nothing, right?

Then, one morning, the girls didn't come down for breakfast. Rapunzel and I ran up to their room, both of us expecting to see that they had simply played too late the night before, but the ballroom was absolutely dry when we passed. We got to their room, and Rapunzel reached for the doorknob but jumped back immediately, claiming it was ice cold. I felt it, too, then tried to open the door, but it was also frozen shut. I summoned a massive gust to blow it open and found myself in yet another winter wonderland of Elsa's creation, but she was still fast asleep. Anna, who was curled up on her bed, wrapped in her thickest blankets, explained how it had been this way ever since she had woken up that morning, but Elsa had been asleep the entire night, only opening her eyes as we forced our way in. She had nearly frozen her sister in her sleep.

Anna was treated to a hot bath and forgave Elsa almost immediately, being the bright, happy imp that she was, but Rapunzel and I were concerned. Elsa was eight years old, and her powers only became stronger each and every day, and as her strength grew, her control was getting weaker and weaker. It seemed that the winter dream had only been a one time thing, but when she was awake, we had to constantly watch out for her random spurts of energy. Windows would frost over by her skipping by, snow storms would break out inside if we tickled her, her baths had to be scalding hot to keep them from freezing right when she jumped in, and icicles would form if she ever threw a tantrum. We quickly concluded that even the tiniest bit of emotion set her off.

As parents, we loved seeing her happy. We smiled along with her as she guided snowflakes to her head to form a tiara, proudly proclaiming, "I am the Snow Queen!" Still, we were afraid. We considered moving her to a new room away from Anna for safety, but we knew how upset both of them were apart. We didn't know what was wrong. No matter how many hours I spent trying to teach her, her powers would inevitably fly out of control again. I loved my daughter beyond words and was proud of her powers, but I wondered how long it would be before she hurt someone.