Disclaimer: I do not nor do I claim to own Frozen and its characters.
"The past can hurt.
But the way I see
it, you can either
run from it, or
learn from it."
..
Walt Disney
The faint moonlight that leaked through the bars of his cell was the only version of incandescence he had at night. The only warmth for his brothers had refused to give him the privilege of ever seeing brightness and what security it would offer him when horrors dare haunt his fathomless mind. The silence, penetrating, was the only thing to accompany him as he occupied the space in the corners, and crouched to be able to form anything coherent. Years of punishment hadn't taken out his ability to write as though he belonged to the monarchy that reigned down the lowest of the isles like the sun. It was the only thing he cherished, aside from what has been given to him out of pity. Words rained down on paper, the point of the pen skidding flawlessly as thoughts upon thoughts had been tattooed upon its pearl skin, but never an apology had been one of them. He'd known that these most likely hadn't been graced by the glower of her sapphirine hues. Nevertheless, he wrote, not to atone for what he's done, but for the sake of saying.
As he squinted and thrived hard to form anything different from what he's sent her a week ago, the queen on the other hand had indulged herself into languor. The moon had been a companion, so had been the stars that peered into her windows through thin, white curtains blown so slightly by the autumn breeze. She could feel the weight of the day upon her as she tried not to fret of what lay ahead of her and forced herself not to crease her forehead in agitation. She was only twenty-five, but already, she could feel as though she was older than what she's supposed to be. But, she countered, it was expected as she never had been for inactivity when there were things to do. Her obligations had kept her far from the curiosity she'd held for the box, and the frustrations she's had with herself when she's reminded of what she'd previously done. Sharing had never been an option, especially when the mind was too occupied with things she was better off without; hence, why she'd deflected the idea of a king beside her and had turned a cold shoulder when suitors had their feet upon her ground, and offered her various negotiations her council had salivated on.
Rolling her eyes heaven ward, the queen had dispelled these thoughts and had tended to her bed. Donned in a nightgown that winked when the silver finery of the moon had touched it, she had allowed a yawn escape her soft lips, stretching away the tension that settled in the width of her shoulders, and the length of her back. The tranquility of the night was getting to her as it sang the songs of sleep, luring them into the hay so as to call it a night. The bed dipped as she had settled underneath the ocean of pristine sheets and blankets, the heaviness that settled in her temples and between her eyes already becoming unbearable. With a wave of a hand, the breeze had picked up, a whistle being carried as it had tended to the flames of the candles, then leaving her with the darkness. She's closed this page, and planned to flip to another when morning comes, and she's donning the mask of indifference. Silently, she prayed that tomorrow would be a relief albeit knowing that it was just as bland as it always was. And before she had fully sunken into the bliss of slumber, she prayed for the living rather than the dead. If he be quiet, she'd have the peace she'd been wishing ever since her eyes had fallen onto his very first parchment.
What she didn't know that silence from the opposite end would be harder to achieve, especially with the impending situation that's waiting for the sun to rise.