Elsa stood at the window of her throne room, breathing in the crisp morning air which accompanied the new day. The shadow of the mountains were shrinking, fleeing before the rising sun and leaving behind a field of golden light which sparkled across the harbor. The bright blue sky stretched from the farthest reaches of the fjord to the most distant mountains, not a single cloud dotting its canvas. Of course, there were never any clouds, not anymore; no clouds, no rain, and no snow, not even on the mountains. The rivers had run dry and the wells had stopped, there was no water to be found anywhere.

The drought started near the beginning of spring, both fierce in its intensity and unusual in its timing. First, the snow of the mountains melted, disappearing over the course of many days as if it evaporated. It was Kristoff who first noticed this, pointing to the line of peaks behind the castle and commenting how the snow seemed to be receding, and he was right. Each morning Elsa would look out the window of her bedroom to see the edge of the snow had crept further up the sides of the mountains. In the beginning it was more of a curiosity than a concern as she was used to fluctuations in snow cover, perhaps not as dramatic, but fluctuations nonetheless. However, when the melting didn't stop and the snow disappeared she knew something was wrong.

By all accounts, if the snow melted as fast as it had then the rivers should've overflowed their banks, flooding the valleys and turning waterfalls into sideways geysers, but none of that happened. In fact, the opposite occurred. The nearest waterfall, a magnificent stream of water which plummeted from the mountains high above the city, had dried up. Not all at once, not in one day, but it was a noticeable decline, its flow tapering until it slowed to a trickle and then stopped altogether, as if someone dammed it up, but of course, no one had.

Once the rivers stopped and the snow melted there was a palpable sense of foreboding which passed through the kingdom. No one ever heard of such a thing, not even the old timers, and no one knew what to do. The only thing they could do was pray for rain, but that was a prayer which had so far gone unanswered. It hadn't rained in Arendelle for almost six months and without water the people couldn't survive, and they were looking to their queen to avert such a dire conclusion.

Elsa, for her part, relied on her trading partners for deliveries of water, and what she received she stored in the cellar of the castle, rationing it amongst all the residents of Arendelle. Every morning it was the same routine, the people would come streaming to the castle to receive their daily allotment of water, standing in long lines which grew shorter every day as more and more people fled the kingdom. It was well that they left, Elsa thought, and she'd be lying if she said she hadn't thought about leaving too, but that was impossible. Many who remained in Arendelle simply had nowhere else to go, and she wouldn't abandon those who were trapped here. The people, for their part, trusted her to take care of them, to provide for them, and they believed she wouldn't fail them.

She wished that were true.

She tried to find a solution in the early days of the drought, and the obvious source of relief was her magic. Large wooden structures were built, devices resembling troughs designed to capture her ice and divert the melting water into barrels. It'd been a fine idea and an engineering marvel, but it didn't work.

It's not that the contraptions hadn't produced water; they had. Over the course of a single night's melting they'd collected enough water to fill over 20 barrels, but there was something wrong with the water, harvested from magical ice with properties unknown. Everyone who drank it got sick, falling so ill many became bedridden. Animals refused to taste it, turning away after a single sniff. Even the crops wilted and died after being doused with the unnatural liquid.

For the first time since the great thaw, her magic had felt like a curse again. After all, what good were her powers if they couldn't help the people she loved?

She heard footsteps in the hall.

"Alek?"

There was a short silence followed by heavy footsteps, then a gaunt man appeared through the archway, removing his hat and tucking it under his arm. He wore a green uniform, as all the guards did, but his had red patches on the shoulders to indicate his position of authority as captain of the guard. He was older than most of the guards, the lines in his face betraying a youthful appearance, and his jet black hair was flecked with grey. Elsa could tell he hadn't bathed recently as dark smudges of dirt and mud speckled his cheeks and chin. This was unusual, she thought, for Alek was always well groomed, clean, and presentable. He had high standards for the appearance of his men and he was the sort who would never ask of someone what he wasn't willing to do himself. She knew he was depriving himself of water.

"Yes, Your Majesty?"

He stood at attention, his back straight, his shoulders up, and his heels pressed together. Despite having served in the castle for many years his insistence on routine never faltered. The kingdom may be crumbling around them, but Alek's sense of formality was too ingrained to be diminished by it.

"Have you taken your ration of water today?"

This wasn't the reason she'd called him, but she felt compelled to ask.

"Not yet, Your Majesty."

That was all he offered, and though she waited for an explanation she knew she'd have to pry it out of him.

"When was the last time you took your ration?"

"The day before yesterday, Your Majesty."

"Alek!"

This wasn't the first time they'd had such a discussion, but it was the first time she'd noticed evidence of his abstain. Something stirred inside her, like maternal instincts, as if it were her responsibility to care for his well being. Alek was capable of caring for himself, she knew that, but when she saw him neglecting his own welfare she felt like a mother who'd failed to provide for her own. It was a feeling that was becoming all too familiar.

"You are to take a double ration of water today."

"Your Majesty, the people-"

"That is a command, not a request!"

Her words came out more stern than she intended, but that was just as well, she thought.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Alek was stubborn, but she knew he'd obey. He always did.

She turned back to the window, watching the line of people shrink as they received their portions then left, carrying the water in whatever receptacles they had to carry it in. The allotment wasn't much, and it grew smaller every week. It wouldn't be long before there was no more to give.

"How much water do we have left?"

A woman had brought a small child with her, he couldn't have been more than 4 or 5, and he was dancing around her as if it was an occasion for celebration, oblivious to the somber reason for their gathering. She envied him.

"A week perhaps," Alek said. "Two at the most."

A week? Maybe two? So far, the people hadn't protested, though their situation was bleak; but what would they do on the morning they came for water and found there was none?

"Do the people know?"

"No. The records are kept under lock and key. Only you and I have access to them."

"Good. Please keep it that way."

She had no intention of deceiving them; she kept them informed and they knew the stakes, that if they didn't find water these bartered supplies would only last so long. But the people had enough problems to deal with, they didn't need to worry about how close they were to losing all hope. That was her burden to bear and she'd bear it alone as long as she could, until there was no hope left, but that time hadn't yet come.

"Anna and Kristoff should be returning today," she said, turning back to him. "They'll have news of the journey west."

She intended that to sound hopeful, but it rung hollow in her ears. Was there any reason to believe this journey would end differently than the others?

In the spring, after it became clear the rain was gone and the snow wouldn't be returning, every able bodied man in the kingdom was asked to participate in a search for water. Elsa hadn't made it mandatory, as Alek suggested, but the response was overwhelming.

The volunteers were split into groups and assigned to alternating one week excursions with a period of time off in between, time intended for them to rest with their families and recover from the search. Much to Anna's dismay, Kristoff refused to take a break from the exhaustive explorations. He'd become the defacto leader of each expedition, heading up search party after search party as they combed the land in every direction, looking for the one resource that would save the kingdom from disaster.

The first group of volunteers made a foray into the mountains to the north, checking the valleys for lakes and ponds that might've escaped the wrath of the drought. It was a vast area made up of difficult terrain, so repeated patrols were dispatched to make sure nothing was overlooked or forgotten, however, they found nothing. The same was true of the searches east and south.

By the time they were ready to search west, along the fingers of the fjord, most of the men had left, fleeing Arendelle and taking their families with them. That left only a small number of people who were able to participate in the hunt, and perhaps that's why Kristoff insisted Anna go with him on this last excursion. Or maybe he just missed her. Either way, she'd gone and Elsa was left to worry about her safety, worry born from Anna's frequent cases of carelessness and intensified by her accident last spring, when she took a tumble while climbing a rock, but she knew Anna couldn't be in more capable hands. Besides, if they didn't find water another accident would be the least of her concerns.

If they didn't find water...

How could she even consider such a notion? She didn't want to think what would happen if they didn't find water. As long as there remained places to look, she could afford the luxury of a little hope.

"We're going to find water, Alek."

She could tell he wasn't convinced by her assurance. Was she convinced by her own words? She had to be. If they didn't have hope they didn't have anything.

"We'll find water."

"Of course, Your Majesty."

He stood at attention a while longer, waiting for additional exposition that never came. Elsa wondered how many of her people had lost hope, as the captain of her guard seemed to have.

"Will that be all?"

"Yes," she said, turning back to the window. "Thank you."

Alek shoved his hat back on and prepared to leave, but stopped beneath the archway. He waited for a long moment with his head bowed, as if contemplating something, started to leave again, then turned around, coming back into the room.

"Your Majesty."

"Yes?"

She was watching the people outside. The line had dwindled to a few men with a couple of stragglers joining at the last moment. One of them, an old man with white hair, was hobbling as fast as his crooked legs would carry him, waving a silver cup over his head.

"There are rumors," Alek said.

His tone was odd and Elsa couldn't quite place it. She turned to look at him, trying to read his expression.

"Rumors?"

"Yes. People are saying the Duke of Weselton brought water, but you refused his offer."

It sounded like an accusation. Was he charging her with neglect? She fought against the stale remnants of emotions stirred within her the day before, then scolded herself. This was Alek, not the Duke of Weselton.

Alek had served as a guard to the royal family for many years, having been hired by her father when she was a little girl. He'd always been there, an integral part of the castle as if he were an essential cog in the works that made it run, and perhaps that wasn't far from the truth. He'd never married, choosing instead to dedicate his life to the guardianship of Arendelle's monarchs. During this time he'd weathered multiple crises with his loyalty intact, including the Hans led coup following her coronation. He never wavered in his allegiance and she'd always been able to count on him for support. There was no malice in the question.

"I'd never deprive you or any of my people from having the things they need if it's in my power to give it."

"I know, Your Majesty. I'm sorry, I should've never brought it up."

"You love these people as much as I do," she said, returning to the window. "You have nothing to apologize for."

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

The old man arrived at his destination just in time, huffing and puffing his relief. The waiting servants gave him two ladlefuls of water.

"If you need me I'll be in the cellar," Alek said, then left.

He passed Olaf in the hall and Olaf waved, flailing his little stick arm so wildly it seemed it might come off.

"Elsa!" Olaf called out, running toward her in the waddling, skipping manner he used when he was happy, which was most of the time. In fact, Olaf was about the only smile regularly seen in Arendelle anymore. That smile could often melt through the most bitter of spirits, but today the flicker of his grin failed to kindle any life in her own expression, or burn away the remnants of her frown.

"Good morning," he said.

"Good morning, Olaf."

She picked at the loose snow clumped around a cluster of small sticks on his head arranged like hair.

"Do you know what today is?" he asked, standing on his tiptoes. Well, perhaps tiptoes was the wrong word, because he didn't have any toes, just two balls of snow where his feet should be. And despite making himself as tall as possible, he was still too short to meet Elsa's eyes, so he just stared up at her, grinning.

When he didn't continue she realized he was waiting for an answer. She thought for a moment then shook her head.

"No, tell me. What day is it?"

"Ice skating day!" he said, laughing and twirling away as if the throne room were a frozen lake and he was an ice skating ballerina.

It made Elsa chuckle, and it felt good, even if it was brief. She could always count on Olaf to cheer her up, but today it wouldn't last. She went to her throne and sat down, tracing the outlines of its decorations with one finger.

"I don't think we'll be having an ice skating day today."

Olaf's head stopped mid twirl, turning to look at Elsa as the rest of his body completed the graceful twist.

"What? But we never miss ice skating day."

"I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

Olaf left the room, head low and feet shuffling in disappointment. She hated turning him away, saying no, but entertaining the kingdom with an ice skating day was the last thing she wanted to do. She just wanted to be alone. It'd been a long time since she'd felt that way, since she felt like crawling in a hole and shutting out the world. She'd spent most of her childhood shutting out the world, locked away in her room, hating every minute of her solitude and yet wanting it at the same time. Hating and wanting, that was the curse for most of her life and now it was back. For the first time since her coronation she wanted the world to disappear, to go away and take its incredible weight off her shoulders.

She went to the window again, wondering how far Kristoff and Anna were from home. Their plan was to follow the southern edge of the fjord, searching more inland at first and then turning closer to the shore on their way back. She strained to see as far west as possible, but the fjord was straddled by the feet of massive mountains, making it impossible to see beyond the nearest peak. She left the window, pacing back and forth as she mulled questions she didn't have answers for. How far had they gone? Had they found water? Had they encountered danger? This last question always vexed her, and she tried not to dwell on the dangers which waited for them in the uncharted wilderness, but it was hard not to worry. This was doubly true with Anna joining them, not that she didn't trust Kristoff to keep her sister safe, but sometimes Anna wasn't one to listen to reason when it came to her own safety.

She spent the rest of the day waiting, pacing, sitting on the throne, watching out the window, and wandering the castle. She had lunch in the rose garden and dinner in the great hall, but all she could manage was a few bites, spending most of the time pushing the food around the plate until one of the servants took it away.

Olaf returned with her to the throne room, and when she started pacing again he joined her. He followed as they made their circular journey to nowhere, the shadows tracing low arches across the floor as the sun sank toward the fjord. Still, Anna and Kristoff hadn't returned.

After the sun set one of the servants arrived to light candles, and as the darkness outside drew deeper Elsa's gnawing worry chewed a hole through her voice of reason, convincing her something had happened, another accident perhaps, a fall from a cliff face or an attack by some wild animal. Her worry was beginning to boil over when she heard footsteps coming down the hall. She leapt up from the throne, startling Olaf who stood beside her, and ran toward the archway just as Anna emerged, grinning and towing Kristoff close behind.

"Elsa!" Anna called out, throwing her arms around her sister.

Olaf joined in the embrace, wrapping his stick arms around their legs. When he noticed Kristoff standing at a distance, he gave him a wave.

"Hi, Kristoff!"

Kristoff waved back but didn't return the smile.

Elsa held Anna at arm's length. Her dark blue dress was ruffled and scuffed around the knees and her ruby red sleeveless cloak had smudges of dirt along the edges. Elsa had a vision of her scaling rocky cliffs and dangling from ledges, and she shuddered, trying not to think about it. Anna's strawberry blonde hair was braided into pigtails, as usual, and her cheeks were flushed with color, nearly matching her hair in tone. Her turquoise eyes flickered between green and blue in the candlelight, freckles dancing across her nose as she smiled.

"You're practically glowing," Elsa said.

Elsa looked at Kristoff for some clue to Anna's excitement but he was expressionless, scratching a hand through his thick, blonde hair.

"You found it then?" Elsa said, a ray of hope daring to pierce her heart. "Did you find it?"

"The water?" Anna said. "Well...no...not exactly. But I know we will, it's just a matter of time!"

"Oh," Elsa said, trying not to sound disappointed.

Despite her effort to restrain her expectations, Anna's smile had brought a glimmer of hope, but now it was gone. She rubbed at her shoulders as if to ward off a chill, drawn once again into that shell of hopelessness that'd built itself around her.

Anna looked at Kristoff, as if seeking direction, but Kristoff just shrugged and motioned for her to continue. She went to him, taking his hand.

"Elsa, we have something to tell you."

Elsa didn't notice how nervous Kristoff appeared as he glanced between the two girls, or how eager Anna was to have her attention. She was too busy trying to figure out what they were going to do now that their last hope for salvation had ended in yet another