He'd never enjoyed being alone.
He'd have thought the world would have figured this out by now. He'd only been around since nearly its beginning. But what was he to expect? Nobody liked winter when they could have spring.
Every man could be an island if he wanted to be or if the world relegated that particular position to him—like the people of the world often enjoyed doing to the beings it didn't quite approve of. But he wasn't even an island. Being an island implied that someone could someday stumble upon his island and be his new companion.
He was a being in a glass box, that let out no sound and that the world could not see into, but that let in all the wonderful things of this world that he was forced to watch pass him by. He had screamed at first. Screamed until he coughed up blood.
But, slowly. He'd gotten used to it. The being alone. He'd slowly curled into a fetal position and longed to be human, that he could look upon death's face.
He wasn't human, though, and so he'd just waited in that same position. His arms curled around his knees curled towards his heart that he hoped would stop beating but knew wouldn't because in a world where you didn't exist, you didn't die.
Making a mountain so it didn't exist was painful. Being compressed. Freedom was like the mass of a mountain leaking through a hole in a bottle. It was nice to be free.
But now… he was alone.
So very, very alone.
He had been that way before. Back when he hadn't existed. But he couldn't have done anything about that then.
She was due to arrive any day now. He could see the party delivering her to him from the crest of his person. The Icequeen—or perhaps she preferred the name from her other world, Elsa- was meant for him. She was his gift to himself
Because, if you don't have any friend except for you and yourself, you should definitely get yourself some presents. That was the only thing to do. Although, he made sure not to indulge himself in his every whim. No true friend would try to spoil another.
He stood on the balcony of his imaginings, letting his hands rest on the twisted ice railing. The cold made him feel more alive than he had felt since being free. It bit and tore at him, but he didn't mind.
The cold never bothered him anyways.
A/N: So… I love Elsa, and I normally ship her with Jack Frost from Rise of the Guardians, but I also love Arkan from the Pellinor quartet and, he's the Winterking. Why not make Elsa the queen to Arkan's king? :3
