Silent Spare
DAY SIX
A 12 Days of Frozen Drabble
Main Character(s): Anna and Elsa
What's this?: A 12-Day drabble writing for the Frozen fandom. You may do this as well for your own self-motivational writing process!
Listen up: I am allowing anyone to expand my written drabbles. However, I need to see credits. Otherwise, it's considered "plagiarism", or, well, basically "stealing" one's ideas or work.
It was a blur of movements on that particular night.
The grandfather clock ticked in tandem with a particular princess's clicking of tongue against teeth. This princess went to the kitchens, unseen by the guards that are apparently asleep under metal helmets. The sound of her small feet clicking against hardwood nearly woke one of the guards near the door that lead to the gardens. She silenced her steps, tip-toing as she tick-tocked with her tongue.
The sound of the sharpest blade unsheathed itself from one of the stands; its silver blade gleaming in the winter night. The princess took a dirty cloth and began cleaning the blade, stopping her tick-tocking and went for a hum – a hum that she always sang before someone's particular door.
After cleaning the blade to its sheer glory, she took lithe steps as she exited the kitchen. Still – the guards remain asleep under their helmets; completely oblivious to what is happening. The princess passed by numerous halls, counting the paintings that she spoke to as a child – and remembering that she had lived such a lonely life that time. But her eyes fall on a new painting framed against the mahogany-painted walls intricate with lace and Arendelle's symbolic flower.
That new painting shows a man with burly mountain-like clothes, blonde hair distorted from what seemed like a blizzard that had passed and a pose any regular mountain man would do. He had his leg up against a block of ice, his left elbow against the knee from where his leg stands on ice. His eyes – those beautiful, dazzling eyes; seemingly sparkled in the young of the night. That smile that always made her knees buckle weak every time he flashed such to her. But this time, her knees no longer went weak. The image was simply a decoy – a fallacy of what's already been lost.
This new idea fueled what already have been her thoughts since the day he passed away. Her beloved Kristoff – the one man she ever truly loved – gone in an instant. He was gone before she even knew it. He was gone before they were to be wed. He was gone before he even found out that she is with child.
He was gone all because of a frozen heart of which true love can no longer thaw.
There were no guards in the hallway of which she newly entered. These were the halls that she played back and forth on, trying to catch the attention of her imprisoned sister behind cold, closed doors. But tonight, she wasn't going to play like a child in these halls. A magnificent bonus, for guards no longer walk these halls because they know that the woman behind that one door in the hall is capable of defending herself.
This time, she didn't knock.
She crept inside the room, closing the door as gently as she possibly could. Before her slept a beautiful woman with a head of blonde, silently snuggled in with a pillow she desperately hugs. As the princess nears the sleeping figure, she analyzes the woman.
This was the woman that had shut her out for years, not even the slightest of remorse during her coronation night. This was the woman that received all attention even if she's been hiding behind closed gates. This was the woman that received all the recognition – one of which she never had, and probably will never have. This was the woman that froze her heart – and thawed it out of true love.
But if she could thaw a frozen heart; why couldn't she – the Queen – help thaw the princess's fiance's frozen heart?
The princess raised the blade as she stared at sleeping figure.
Her sister. Her friend. Her Queen.
But more importantly, her fiance's murderer.
The sleeping figure stirred and her eyes slowly blinked before they were fully open. The Queen rest agape on the bed, eyes wide with fear as she drew her last words, "Anna?"
All that occurred was darkness, a fit of struggles and grunts, and finally – finally, the stain of scarlet red blood against the sheets of pure ice.
AN: I didn't want to be super detailed on the blood part, since I'm not very good with violence. This is just my take on a darker, more sinister version of Anna. Everybody has a place where they finally snap, and this is probably Anna's breaking point when Elsa couldn't save Kristoff from his frozen state. But if you think you can expand this to a more bloody situation, then be my guest! Just remember to ask for permission and never forget to credit.
Reviews are highly appreciated. Thanks for being patient with me on this.