The cell he's been living in for the past few months is cold as hell. As he lifts up his head, he distinguishes the frost starting to cover up the walls from the corner of the ceiling, in the darkness of his room.
Her Majesty might be having some... troubles with her 'controlling-her-powers' thing. he thinks, shivering as the cold becomes unbearable and he tightens the blanket around his frail, frosted body.
He hears a door clacking, and another flinging open when he closes his eyes, the metallic sound still resounding in his ears. Then, all goes silent. He just waits, for a second, maybe two. When he opens them again, there she is, standing behind the the bars she's firmly gripping in her ice cold hands, leaving a trace of frost over them. He's remembering the last time he saw her being so damn beautiful. She looked extremely peaceful, as if relieved of all the pain of the world, laying beside the bits of her broken ice chandelier. But now, it is different. She is far from looking - for being, even - peaceful. No. He can see all the problems on earth reflected upon her oh-so pale face. He stares at her angry-looking eyes, ans he's wondering if it is truly anger, or more likely loath. His thin lips curl into a devilish smirk as he brings his knees closer to his chest and wraps his arms loosely around them, trying to protect himself from the striking cold she generates by her mere very presence.
"So, what owes me the pleasure of Her Majesty's visit ?" the auburn-haired man inquires, his head leaning back against the stone wall behind him. "I thought that you— what did you say ?" he pretends to be wondering, his eyes glancing away from her and staring at something invisible in the cold air. "Ah, yes. That you were 'never coming back to visit such a complete asshole, a murderous traitor who's nothing more than a 'royal shame' for his native kingdom', wasn't it ?" he sarcastically asks, gazing back right into her bright icy blue eyes.
"Nothing but an unwanted shame..." she corrects, annoyed, her voice as cold as ice. "And stop pretending that you know nothing of the reason that brought me here. I've wasted enough time with your royal ass." she bitterly adds, removing her hands from the bars and crossing them on her chest.
Confusion shadows his face. He doesn't know anything about what she's speaking of, and he's hesitating between replying seriously, for once, or favouring her with one of his signature smirks. The silence filling the room makes it seem even colder than it already is, and the presence of the Snow Queen in the dungeons doesn't help that much.
He stands up and steps forward, pacing slowly in the direction of the door. He throws away the blanket he's been tightly wrapped in for hours on what acts like his bed and puts his hands on his hips.
"I don't." he mutters with a face as expressionless as a stone, standing an inch away from the bars.
"You don't ?" she ironically asks, and she takes a small step backwards.
I don't.Is she dumb or what ? He doesn't bother to reply because he knows she knows the answer. She knows everything, just by looking into someone's eyes. Maybe she's kind of a telepath.
What she doesn't know is that he can read onto somebody's face, too. And what he sees on hers is that it's far from being expressionless. But there's definitely not anger. There's something much more stronger, more powerful. There's hatred. And what hurts his feeling in spite of himself is that it is directed toward him. He's aware that she'll never hate somebody else as much as she hates him. But knowing this is painful for him, even if it seems completely obvious.
"You were the only one working late yesterday. The only one left alone in the kitchens." she states suspiciously, remaining calm. "There was a cake for Anna's birthday, and after you finished your day, it wasn't there anymore. It had disappeared."
"And... ?" he raises a brow at her.
She lets her arms fall to her side and sighs. "I supposed that you are the one who ate it, or, took it away, but never mind, it's not the matter, it just, disappeared." she says, discreetly looking around his cell, in hope - or not ? - to find it here.
"I see... you 'supposed' it was me, or you 'were sure' I was the culprit ?"
His question catches her off guard and she lifts her eyes to look at him.
"Did you really think that your loyal guards would have let me enter my cell with a might-be-enormous birthday cake ?" he inquires, grinning an still staring right at her light blue eyes, the ones it always takes him all his strength to look away from. "They'd have adverted you, Your grace." he spits her title and moves toward her until his entire body is leaning against the bars he had forgotten that were separating them. He roughly grabs them in his hands.
She doesn't respond. She doesn't even move. She swallows the lump in her throat and asks him if he's seen anybody stealing it.
"I got out of the kitchens once, during a few minutes—" he starts, but she cuts him of before he can even finish his sentence.
"Oh, and shall you tell me what you were doing outside of the kitchens during you working hours ?" she simply asks, walking toward him and stopping only an inch away from the bars of his door.
"I went to the toilets, Milady." he declares in a mocking tone, bowing deeply. "Does Her Highness want some more details ?" he says smirking at her when she sighs exasperatedly.
"No, thank you. It will be fine." she mutters through gritted teeth as her eyes become a darker blue, dangerous, threatening.
While she is focused on his emerald green eyes, he reaches a hand between the bars and grab hers, still looking at her eyes and enjoying the surprise being seen upon her face. With a soft yet firm motion, he brings her in closer, until she herself touches the coldness of the bars as she struggles to break free fro her almost-murderer.
"What do you think you are doing ?" she yells, loud enough for him to understand that he'd better let go, but not for the guards waiting at the entrance to hear.
The widest of his smirks on his freckled face is her only answer and he deosn't seem ready to let her go. He glances at her free hand from where he can see frost spreading across the bar she's holding, trying to shove herself away from it, and from him. Her cool touch on his hand starts to become colder than ice, so he finally lets go of her and steps backward. So does she. No word is spoken. She holds her hand near her chest, where it is the safest, and runs away, out of the dungeons without glancing at him ans he hears the sound of her steps slowly fading away until it's completely gone. He lets himself fall on his bed and feels the emptiness of the room, the coldness of the airs, and he stares at the frosted walls and bars where she has laid her hands on, seconds ago.
"Until soon, My Queen..." he whispers to himself as he covers himself with his blanket again.