Oh, Hello. What are you doing here? Probably looking for a Fan-fiction to read. I like to imagine that the one I have lined up for you is pretty good. It is my first proper long story with plot, but I think it's decent. Please give it a chance. I will not blame you if you do not like it, nor if you find fault with it. I only ask that you offer constructive criticism as opposed to wild and confusing flames.
TRIGGER WARNING: This story will include abuse and one instance of rape, the rape is brief and largely implied as opposed to graphic. If this offends you, or is likely to trigger you, do not read the story. There is an additional warning before the chapter that features the rape if you do chose to continue and wish for a more timely warning.
The amazing cover art is the work of Trooper17.
-Whovian123
Disclaimer: I do not own frozen or Disney.
"Do you wanna build a snowman?"
The question disturbs my, unintended, nap and sends me sitting upright with a jolt. I scatter royal documents all about the room in a desperate, and blind, attempt to scramble from my straight-backed chair. Sleep hangs in my eyes, but I cast it away as my power rises up inside of me, roiling and aggressive, leaking out and in to the air. In this moment I am utterly uncontrollable.
Bolts of ice shoot from my palms, sending everything around me flying into walls and windows, giving my fear and panic a voice. Where am I? Am I stuck in my room again, shut away from the world, secrets crushing me, leaving me empty?
No.
I cannot afford to panic, not when life has been moving so smoothly. The oak desk lying on the floor is not part of my rooms' usual decor. I am in my study. I am sitting in my late father's study, which had moments ago served as a temporary bedroom. i am not trapped in my room, as my groggy mind had feared.
Casting my gaze around I see furniture strewn across the floor, along with parchment and a shattered pot of ink leaking inch by inch across what must have been a needlessly expensive rug. My stomach itches at my lapse in control; my panic got the better of me for just a second, now icicles hang from the ceiling and a slick layer of crystalline frost coats the walls.
My nails bite my palms as I clench my hands, trying, in what feels like a hopeless effort, to pull my powers deep into me and away from the surface. Down there they rest uneasy, still on edge. I cannot afford slip-ups, slip-ups are bad, and slip-ups are dangerous. At least this mistake only caused furniture related casualties, next time I might not be so lucky.
There will not be a next time.
Anna breaks the startling stillness of my study with three quick raps to the door, and then asks me, once again, if I would like to build a snowman. A quick look out the window tells me that it is far too late for anything other than sleeping; however as I make my way through the jungle of upturned chairs and sideways tables, I know that I will not be able to say no, though I shall try my best.
"Anna, it's late." I complain as I swing open the heavy door. She does not hesitate to waltz into my study, a smile on her lips and a light in her eyes that does not speak to the tiredness she ought to feel this late.
"I know, but-" Her chatter stops as she looks around at the frosty damage my study has recently acquired. "You are definitely under too much stress." She concludes. "Princesses orders are to build a snowman." Anna's voice is worried. I do not want her to worry, but it is terribly late. Perhaps I could humor her for just a half hour and build one snowman.
"You should be in bed." I counter, not wanting to abandon the paper work lying by my feet. Anna is right, I cannot deny that, the level of stress I am under is becoming a problem. I was not prepared for the duties that come with running a nation. I do need a break, or another nap.
"But, the sky's awake…" Anna trails off, looking at me with expectant eyes.
"So you're awake." I finish her little motto and can't keep the slight smile from my face. "Ok, one snowman, just one. After that you have to go to bed, you need your rest." Lord only knows when we will get to sleep. I very much doubt the snowman making will stop at one, in spite of my best efforts.
"So do you." Anna shoots back at me with heavy implications; she knows I've been up late. She knows that being a Queen is no easy task; she knows it is even harder after being cut off from the world for thirteen years and then freezing your county at your coronation. I don't get all that much sleep anymore, I have to work long into the nights filing though trade treaties, signing documents for royal visits, and cleaning up the mess that an eternal winter causes. The luxury of sleep is one I have long forgotten.
Anna reaches for my hand, intending to pull me along the hallways and into the ballroom where we can go about this snowman building business. I panic and flinch, afraid that I am not yet under control. The revelations I made five months earlier about my powers have not left me in complete control over them, but have reduced the chaos that follows me.
She understands of course, Anna may not know what it is to have such a constant volatile feeling about you, but she understands why I don't allow her to take my hand and pull me down the hallways, as usual, and why I walk to the ball room instead of the typical running.
Once in the ballroom I take a moment to enjoy the architecture of the castle. Having been tucked away in my room for thirteen years has left me marveled by the sweeping pointed windows, archways gracing the walls, and ceilings so tall I doubt any creäture from even the most fantastical fairy-tale would be able to reach them.
Anna and I stand in the center of the room, our feet resting against the patchwork of polished wood grain. She looks to me, waiting without words until I feel it is safe enough to release my magic, to let just enough slip out and keep the rest buried deep. I relax my chest and let my power out of its cage, carefully pulling it though me and in to the world. My hands rest, open palmed, in front of me. Frost leaks out with zeal, swirling though the air, and licking its way across the ground. I smile, feeling weightless and content at the release of pent up magic, not having to hold it in and keep it back. I do though; I have to hold it back the slightest bit. I have to keep it back just enough for complete control, to ward off accidents and mistakes.
Anna's awe is written in her features. She is by no means new to my powers, but it still manages to light up her face when it's not dangerous. I cannot let it get dangerous. My hands snap shut and the snow stops. We have more than enough blanketing the floor to make a snowman, or maybe two.
I survey the ground; at least two.
Wasting no time we jump right into the snowman building. We roll up the bodies; shape and smooth the heads, and then scavenge about for the arms and faces. In the absence of carrots and twigs simple things such as swept aside and forgotten cutlery or dislodged and lost buttons become features.
None of the snowmen we build have the sentience of Olaf. He is an exceptional creation, one which I doubt I could ever manage to duplicate. I doubt my ability to recreate him based on how inadvertent is existence is, he was crafted by me, of course, but him being alive is an inexplicable miracle that happened in the most offhand and mystical way, a miracle which now lives in the castle causing chaos alongside Anna. A miracle I could never bring myself to regret.
Anna trips over herself and finds the ground rushing up to meet her. She ends up piled on the snow in the most spectacular fashion and I find myself supressing a giggle.
"Oh please." She huffs at me once she has regained her composure. "If you weren't all magical and icy, you would fall to."
"Not with my Queenly Elegance." I explain, then promptly fall on my back.
After pushing the stray hair from my face, I see that Anna is sitting across from me trying to hide her sniggering. Her legs are splayed out in front of her and tangled with mine.
She tripped me.
She is going to be the death of me, though it is not a death I will complain about. We descend into a giggling snow fight that leaves the ballroom in an awful state. I feel guilty for the water damage we cause but I cannot bring myself to regret it. For all the years I spent in isolation I deserve some slip ups and late night snow fights.
Several hours of snow activities pass and eventually even Anna cannot continue to resist the call of sweet and silky slumber. I flick my wrists at the ground and let the snow disappear. Anna and I part ways with quick smiles, two long yawns, and wishes of peaceful slumber.
I make my way to my bedroom; all thoughts of the unsigned documents lying on the floor of my study have long since been pushed to the back of my mind. The halls still feel unfamiliar to me; I did not permit myself to leave my room for any reason during my seclusion and as a result I still find myself backtracking on occasion and drawing out maps in my head. It is a strange feeling being lost in your own home.
In the end I reach my door, it is the one thing that is, thankfully, familiar. I often ran out of ways to keep busy during my childhood and took to staring at my tall hardwood door, wondering what was going on outside my room, out in the real world. The real world, as it turned out, wanted to know just as much about what was happening behind my door as I did the other side.
In the wake of my coronation I have been asked by countless nobles where I had spent the last thirteen years and what I had been doing. I always brush the inquiries away; I haven't the time to indulge aristocracies in the torments of my early life.
Resolving to think of dignitaries no more, I push through my door and into my bedroom. The air that hits my face is crisp; it calms me, it always has and I suspect it always will. There is little in my room, no trinkets of any kind, I have never been one to waste time worrying about décor, even more so when it is for my eyes only. Empty crisp blue walls stare at me while I sleep, and bare fragile furniture mocks my poor self-control, many a intricate carved chair has been lost to a childhood explosion.
For all the finery and trinkets that my safe haven lacks it is still one of the few places where I feel a vague sense of ease.
Nothing about my bed is softer than a typical bed, but that does not stop me from falling into it and wrapping myself in several blankets. The blankets are incidental, I am never cold and do not believe I am capable of feeling so, yet I do find solace in the tight embrace they give. Perhaps it is that they are reminiscent of hugs, something which my childhood lacked. It is dangerous to hug a bomb.
I didn't blame anyone; it was dangerous to be in a room with me, even more so to come in contact with me. For those reasons, I was never allowed too near my parents, as king and queen they had to be protected from all potential threats, even if that threat was their daughter. They did bend the rules when I was younger, before I truly resigned myself to solitude in the name of the greater good.
Despite all the logic and reason I still regret the way I said goodbye to them. Had I known it would be the last time I would be in their presence I would have risked it and hugged them, but I didn't know, no one could have ever known.
I push the morbid thoughts from my mind; for they will do me no good. Then, with a deep breath that tests my lungs, I let myself get lost in the blankets, they are safety; a place where I can let my mind be free. Where I can relax and drift into nothing. Down pillows cradle my head and in the moments before I drift off into thoughtlessness I feel like a small child being rocked by their mother. Then my senses dull and sleep overtakes me in a wave of comforting darkness.
let me know what you think of it so far, not that all the much has happened, but everything starts off somewhere. There will be many chapters to come.
-Whovian123