When the hills and the seas and the fires have froze

But the children are being especially nice

The mothers bring all of the family close

And they tell the story of the princess of ice

Their voices paint pictures of summer and spring

When people could speak without mist in their breath

A time when the children could laugh and could sing

Before their fair princess merged life with cold death

The royals, the mother begin to recall

A kingdom dark powers so wanted to seize

A princess, a sister, who wanted it all

A queen, a sister, with power to freeze

A power kept secret but one fateful day

The queen and the ice made it all fall apart

A wrongful blow she could not take away

An angry shout and a frozen heart

With no signs of stopping, the winter storm rose

The princess began to shiver and shake

Ice from her feet to her head and her nose

And never again would the young princess wake 

The storm raged about the princess of ice

The queen distraught with her sorrowful please

But with all the strength and despair of her cries,

The frozen storm would not ever cease

After that day, Elsa was gone

Her storm all that's left of so long ago

Her people forced to stay and be strong

In a world only formed by ice and by snow

The say that the princess of ice still stands

In the ruins that once were the great Arendelle

Adventurers take hold of her icy hands

As they remember the day when her kingdom fell

The mothers remember there is still a chance

The kingdom's chance at a warmer start

For when adventurers take backwards glance,

Anna's frozen eyes watch them depart

The story does not fill the children with fright

They have never seen a warm sunny day

And if they never do that would be alright

The cold never did bother them anyway

Greed is a cheeky bastard. I find him waiting in the living room. He sits on the couch, his lanky body stretching to cover all three of the cushions. A cigar dangles between his yellow teeth and it bounces when he breathes. His face is a maze of wrinkles that all center back to his eyes. They’re ancient, those things. They weren’t green like I expected the eyes of Greed to be; they’re red, as if his presence needed to be more over-stated.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

He lifts his head as if it is a mighty burden and gestures to my pocket. “You know why, darling.”

My hand shifts to cover the pocket and he chuckles. “Is that Daddy’s money?” He asks, “Or did you dig into Mommy’s ‘Trip to London’ tin?”

I’m reaching into my jeans and pulling out the fifty dollars. My hand is slow as it moves to him and he meets my grasp. The cash slips between his index and middle finger, folding easily into his palm, and he clenches it tightly. He pulls away even quicker than he reached.

“Thank you for this. You’ve been so well-behaved lately,” He sighs. “Not as sustaining as when you were a child.”

His hand slips into his pocket and I follow the movement. When I look back to him, he is smiling ear to ear and those wrinkles are gone.

“Get back to work, darling. I never sleep.”