"They're going to be coming for you, you know that, right?"
"Shut up!"
"They're going to be right on your tail- torches and pitch forks and anger. They're going to kill you."
"It was an accident!"
"They don't care about that; they saw magic- they saw what it could do- and they're going to take any steps necessary to remove it."
"What do I do?!"
"You run. You run until you can't go any further, and then you fight."
"Will you help me?"
And Elsa wasn't completely sure, but she felt as though the voice in her head, the one that had been with her for years, cooing to her gently with words of wisdom and support; she felt as though it had suddenly turned as cold as the air around them.
"My dear, I thought you'd never ask."
xXx
When Elsa had first moved into the Blue Room- what they had called the spare room down the hall from her and Anna's bed chambers- it hadn't been used in years.
Dignitaries were typically given beds in the west hall, over the ballroom and facing the courtyard; the royal family however, was set in the east wing; their rooms facing the fjord and town proper- Anna had always loved watching the night sky's lights as they danced, illuminating the waters of the harbor.
Anna.
Elsa turned her head away from her window and instead brought her attention to the rest of the room- a wardrobe, two night tables, a beautiful rug and a desk, of which the leather top was engraved with the same pattern as her new door.
The maids had done a fine job keeping the room free of dust, in spite of its lack of habitation, but it was obvious that no one had paid this place any mind in a very long time; if she remembered correctly, the last time this room had been occupied, it had been by her great grandmother, who had lived in the castle for her entire life but died long before she and Anna had been born.
Her father sometimes spoke of her, when they toured the portrait hall- her great grandmother had never ruled- her husband, Erik, had been first in line, but disgraced himself before he could take the throne-his own father passing over him for his younger brother, Aaron, who lead the kingdom into prosperity and Erik died not long after the birth of his first and only child.
Aaron, however, had been unable to provide heirs for himself, naming instead her father's father as crown prince before he passed.
And her great grandmother, Elisabeth, had never remarried- word was that after her husband's death, she rarely left the grounds and had become rather withdrawn.
Elsa sat at the escritoire, the very same that must have belonged to her distant grandmother, and ran her hands along the embossed surface.
It was similar to the one her father had in his study, though this one was done in whites and blues; after a few minutes of contemplation she stood and opened her wardrobe, changing into her night dress and curled up into her bed.
She cried herself to sleep that night, wishing she had her sister's constant chatter to help calm her.
xXx
A week after moving into the room, she started her studies again.
Her tutors had assigned her a book on French conjugations and she was almost excited to start- French was her favorite subject, after spelling.
Sitting at the desk, she looked around for her pen and ink well, confused when she couldn't find them- perhaps they had gotten lost in the move- it wasn't probable, but the desk could possibly have some type of writing utensil, even if only a pencil.
Opening the top drawer, she reached her fingers towards the back, coming in contact with, instead of a pen, something flat and covered in cloth.
Pulling it forward, she looked down- the fabric had come loose, and she found herself staring at her own reflection.
An old antique hand mirror made of plain silver.
She picked it up, turning it over and scanning the back, her eyes falling on the runes carved into the back.
"I-H-N?" She thought back to her lessons in the old alphabet, but no matter what she tried, she couldn't make sense of the letters. Maybe they were initials? She ran her fingers over the symbols and winced, bringing her finger to her mouth.
Something had stuck her.
If she had been looking at the glass, she may have noticed that despite having no face to reflect, her eyes were still there, wicked glee apparent in the blue.
xXx
When Elsa was still young- before she had truly understood what she had agreed to- she would entertain herself.
At first, she would read.
She would read everything and anything she could get her hands on.
But, as her proficiency went up, so did the amount of books she would need to remain occupied.
That was her first mistake.
You see, the worst thing a person can do is learn about the things they can never have.
And that's all Elsa did.
She learnt about botany, about weather, about geography and culture. She learnt about trade and economics and history and bit by bit, year by year, she realized that she might never actually use any of this information.
Because her control never grew.
Elsa's second mistake was listening.
But you couldn't blame her for being lonely- for listening to any words of comfort that could be had- for feeling safe and warm when someone understood her and didn't fear her and didn't flinch.
It was the voice that, in her teens, encouraged, gently, for her to read more about the generals, about their ancestors, about runes and language and naval strategy.
Her mother had started to worry, as she noticed her daughter's tastes change, but her father had been thrilled- 'what a leader she would be,' he'd exclaim, whenever his wife would broach the topic, 'how well read she is!'
And well-read Elsa was.
And the voice was pleased, and would tell her so, and hearing that someone, even someone who didn't-couldn't- exist was proud made Elsa flush with excitement and joy.
And so she learned. She learned and memorized and practiced.
But most importantly, she listened.
And while this may be how our story begins, it's nowhere near how it ends.
xXx
When Elsa slept that night, after finding the mirror in the drawer, she realized her dreams had turned dark- but when she awoke, she could hardly remember them- the only image in her head her sister, cold and still and unmoving.
It strengthened her resolve to keep Anna safe at any cost.
She found her sheets were thrown off her bed and that she woke exhausted and during her studies she noticed her mind wandering- images of the mountains in the distance, she knew it to be them by their shape, but seen in detail that she could never possess herself. And from the desk, her own eyes waited, glowing dimly in the dark of the drawer.
xXx
Her parents noticed that she seemed distracted.
They would have to call her name a few times before she would respond, and when she did it always seemed hesitant and forced, as if she hadn't been fully certain of what they had been saying.
But surely, this was because of the stress of the past weeks- and they let her be, because of course it would get better once she acclimated.
Elsa herself wasn't sure why her head had been so fuzzy lately- but every time she tried to focus her attention shifted to the window.
Maybe she was just feeling a bit confined.
But one night she woke up crying, her sister's name echoing through the room and she had to resist the urge to retch.
She felt pale- her skin was beading with sweat and she was trembling and her eyes burnt, like she had held a candle to them.
She stumbled out of her bed, tangled and tripping in the sheets, and collapsed in front of the desk, fumbling for the mirror- her eyes, she needed to see her eyes- something, something was wrong with them.
Once her hands met the cool metal and glass she crawled towards the fireplace, which had some light left in it and threw on a log, waiting for it to catch and illuminate the area.
But the mirror showed nothing unusual- her eyes seemed fine, blue and blinking back at her.
But the pain- there had to be something wrong, there just had to be, because it was so bad she couldn't even think, and yet words came unbidden to the front of her mind- 'You're going to be okay, I promise. I won't let anything happen to you."
Elsa nearly screamed as the pain doubled, then tripled, clutching her head and clenching her eyes shut tight against even the meager light the fire provided, 'I swear it, I will protect you. The pain will pass, and then no harm will ever come to you again.'
xXx
When Elsa awoke, it was because Gerda had found her on the floor in front of the long dead fire, her hand still clenched around the mirror, sheets scattered behind her, clearly showing her progression from desk to hearth.
But the pain was gone and for the first time in a week, she was refreshed; and when she caught her reflection in the glass she smiled, because somehow, despite feeling different, she also felt right.
-X-
Hello, everyone and welcome to the first chapter of The Looking Glass; I hope you all have enjoyed it so far, in spite of it's length- I promise the chapters will get longer.
This story may become quite dark- but we may find ourselves back in the light by the end of it- only time will tell.
There could potentially be trigger warnings scattered throughout this fic- if so, it will be clearly labeled at the beginning of the chapter, along with it's specific type.
I hope you all decide to continue with me and I appreciate you taking the time to read this story of mine.
Dana