"Some say, don't burn your bridges.
I say, if necessary,
let the kerosene
kiss it on the lips,
and watch it
turn to ash.
There's always more than one way
to cross the water."
..
Ruby Francisco
The morning had been eager to make an appearance.
A faint stroke of light had enveloped the starkness, giving it a pink flush and a dark hue of blue, painting it with the morn. An announcement as it stretched within the expanse and had graced the people from below with its smile-pleasant as the birds chirped and the wind hummed.
The sky was awake.
The stars that had been intricately lain out on its arms had twinkled into oblivion as the silver threads of the moon had been overwhelmed by a new reign; an hour earlier than its rise as though the gods from above had urged it to tumble out to welcome a new beginning, and a plot twist the regalia should have had seen coming.
In her chambers in the palace she lay, eyes painted close by slumber, and body twisted with a lack of grace, in directions that would inevitably cause a strain. Unaware of the vibrancy, still within the fathoms of her own thought and imagination, ingrained and unmoving, seeming as though she had no plans of rousing within the second or the hour that would proceed it. Her mouth was agape and her usual pallid visage was a plane, lacking of the creases that had dared trouble her when she had been conscious. Not a smile, though, had stained her immaculacy as she remaied the epitome of neutrality even underneath the influence of the tempest that had been slumber. Suppose it was because she was no servant to anyone, and that she never recognized any saint; or quite perhaps she remained in a limbo, and she floated in the darkness as she had rested.
Gently, the sunlight had peeked through the slit of her curtains, slowly slanting across the room to battle out the darkness. It didn't recognize any saint either as it creeped slowly, and danced around the peaceful queen until it rested atop her cheeks and teased her closed eyes. It dared to wake her, and neither fear nor respect did it bear for her. It was playful, and it was unforgiving as a caress became a harsh glower until it roused her in a state that wasn't appreciated.
Eyelids fluttered open, sapphirine hues gazing against a ceiling, steady breathing becoming unequal as she shifted before she sat. Her blankets gather at the end of her torso, and her platinum threads of hair fall on the length of her back in a stream that ended at the base of her spine. There was a certain coldness that lingered, one that had been disperesed the moment she'd come to her senses and her handmaiden had rapped on her door.
"Queen Elsa," she spoke in a manner of gentleness as though the monarch she was addressing was fragile.
She had been. But that had been in the past, and it was never more than just a stain to her reputation; a reminder of what she's not supposed to be, and something left to rot at the cobwebs of her mind and everybody else's. A mockery to the strength she held now, and a thought she never wish to venture, though she had continuously failed to do so-unfortunately, miserably so.
The regalia frowned.
A timid come in had then escaped her svelte lips, a hither to that was quiet, but enough to be heard.
The door knob glinted and it jingled as she imagined the elder would be unlocking it as she balanced whatever she had been carrying. The monarch thought of helping her, but she couldn't be bothered as a feeling was gravitating her in a way that had caused aggravation in such an early morning. Blue eyes kept still on the white, oak door, mentally counting the rosemalling as she always did when she tried to calm herself down or tried to put up a pleasant front.
In patience, she waited, until the handmaiden had put up an appearance with two young maids trailing before her with silk and shoes in their hands. A new dress. She vaguely remembered being told that Gerda had been planning on sewing her a new one in addition to the rest of hers. A sort of token or something, she couldn't quite remember.
"Good morning, Your Majesty." They spoke in unison just as she had disentangled herself from the blankets that previously pooled around her and kissed the possibility of sleeping in goodbye.
She stretched her legs as she stood, the nightgown slowly falling like a stream down her ankles. "Good morning," she returned and offered them a small smile.
Routine had followed through, and conversation had been idle to none. She'd watched them, a little detached, take measurements and tut. Absent, she'd kept her lips sealed even as they'd scrubbed her thoroughly off the dirt from the evening, and clothed her appropriately in such finery. The epitome of beauty and grace, sophistication and reservation, intellect and youth. The crown nestled snuggly on top of her golden tresses, a little thing that boasted more than a handful of power, but not more than what she could wield. A piece of gold and alloy that had men lining up for, even so much as killing to share it or to have it for themselves.
She's reminded of an incident and a certain monarch that had been stripped to nothing, a man who didn't have peace in his vernacular; a man she'd come to loathe than pity. He was man she wished not to see nor hear off, but she'd later on learn that people often didn't get what they wanted, especially in this position in the hierarchy. For now, she held onto that, basking in ignorance before she'd blinked back at her reflection, and picked at what she'd heard and had tuned out. Her handmaiden had spoken, and she hadn't been with them when it had happened. She was busy, busy mulling over things she had vowed not to look back to, and she was quite ashamed, quite vexed for even finding a connection in thoughts she'd thought she had abandoned.
"I beg your pardon?" She had echoed in response, blinking, and making it seem as though she had been dazed because of drowsiness. Pale brows had been furrowed, a crease settling among the expanse of her forehead, slightly, so as to not seem as though she had been bothered.
The elder straightened her self, and had given her shoulder a comforting squeeze; a fond and understanding smile had given her grace, one she had returned as she smoothened her features.
"The council wishes to discuss something of importance, though they didn't say." The statement had been put delicately, the woman's eyes kind towards the other as though she was speaking to one of her own, a daughter; and if Elsa squinted, she could see her mother.
She'd let a smile ease her features, blue eyes reflecting and connecting towards her handmaiden. She forced to swallow the reminder, telling herself she needn't a cup of angst in the morning, especially when there was much to do and a kingdom to govern.
"Thank you, Gerda." She had replied, a matter of dismissal as she rose, abandoning her vanity and clasping her hands in front of her lap.
Pleasantries had been exchanged and a series of Your Highness had left their pale lips; before long, she was left to walk herself to the dining hall to meet her sister for breakfast.
. . .
"Elsa,"
they were never without vibrancy. In every room that had been occupied by the younger sister, colour never seemed to have faded. Humour went along with conversation, and conversation was filled with triviality and the like, things that had left from the commoners tongues being served alongside delicacies for her to ponder on or simply find humour within. Musings aloud had given such a normal thing life, ridding of any sort of silence or of staidness. Needless to say, with Anna, she'd never have to worry about misplaced quietness; never have to suppress a simple smile or withhold herself of any laughter if she found ludicrousness in a sentence.
If the conversation had died down, it was simply because the other would be taking a breath, and there hadn't been much to offer from her side of the bargain. It usually lasted a few seconds, and if seriousness may wash over such a jovial convocation, it was to address a petty little thing such as colour palettes for a dress. There was never really a problem too big to concern both sisters.
So, when she'd spoken in such softness and such neutrality, the queen had feared for the rest of the sentence. There was something in the light of her sister's eyes that had been quite telling.
"Yes, Anna?" she'd inquired when a normal flit of her gaze hadn't been enough to provoke the other to continue. Her brows had slightly furrowed as she kept her gaze, the tip of her finger tapping onto the cutlery she had held.
The redhead that had sat across her had visibly chewed on her bottom lip and had dared cast her gaze downwards. She seemed crestfallen, and Elsa had wondered if there had been trouble in paradise and if she'd need to have a serious conversation with the ice master. She hoped it wasn't something quite grave.
"I..." She had started, only to clam up and further distance herself from the other, which had raised another fit of worry from the side of the queen.
This time, she had allowed herself to incline an eyebrow, tilting her head in question. "Is there a problem?"
"No!" She said too quickly, too loudly. Anna winced. Elsa flinched. "I mean, no, there isn't a problem. It's just... It's not a problem-not yet, anyway." She paused, made a face, which had made her sister knit her brows at the center, confusion and worry present within her features. "It's well... Kind of a predicament, but not really a predicament, just a-"
"Anna."
Teeth clamped at her lower lip as she suffered under her sister's questioning glance, she fidgeted, inhaled, exhaled, then straightened herself. Patiently, Elsa had waited, though she knew her patience was running thin the longer tension had lingered between the both of them.
"Kristoff and I... Uh, we, uh..." She drifted her gaze away then back at Elsa. "Would like your blessing... for our marriage."
She blinked, once, twice, the silence slicing through the remnants of the redhead's outburst, highlighting the faintest ticking of the grandfather clock. Anna gripped her fork tightly, and felt her chest tighten in anticipation, teal eyes staring back at the queen with so much hope, so much fear. She wanted a positive answer, wanted validation from the sister she'd always longed to be around with, from someone she looked up to. She didn't want silence as it often offered things that weren't much too good, or not good at all; from what she's gone through, the pregnancy of silence was much more than a pause to think. It was a pause to put up a wall to separate the both of them, to isolate her once more, to inflict loneliness-and Anna feared that it might happen again.
"That's..." Elsa had trailed off, her eyes flickering back to her sister, luminiscent with a certain kind of happiness. A smile ghosted upon her lips, a dimple showing at the corner as she tried to speak despite the speechlessness the news had bestowed upon her. "...Wonderful, Anna. Of course, of course. You have my blessing."
There was laughter within her tone, given by happiness than of humour as one would normally think-almost breathless, more of a sigh. She'd smiled, so wide, so-so genuine, so different from the ones she normally had held. A seal from the queen, an approval-the validation the redhead had needed, had always wanted. It wasn't long before the younger one had grinned, a dust of scarlet painting the tops of her cheeks, eyes squinting as she held herself, tried to be civil. She was brighter than the sun, Elsa had concluded, better than a glare, but a soft sweep of warmth; summer after the dreadful lengths of winter. She looked beautiful, radiant.
She took pride in that.
"Thank you! Thank you!"
For thirteen years, she'd unintentionally painted sadness upon the heart of the other, and had deprived her of the warmth she knew Anna had deserved. Sweet, sweet Anna, only wanting to build a snowman, to see her, to make a connection, to feel as though she wasn't alone. She was glad they had been able to reverse the damage her parents had done in fear.
Fear.
It's something she hadn't felt in quite some time, and that was pleasant. More than, to be quite honest.
"I was thinking-well, we were thinking," she corrected, doing a little roll of her eyes, already at the start of a prattle that did anything but annoy the queen. "To have two weddings. Here and in the Valley of the Rocks, you know, with his family and because of the energy-God, Elsa! The energy there is so fantastic and it's so different, and kind of like home."
By then, the princess had managed to lift her off the chair and to sit at the edge of the table, the corner closest to her sister. She was holding herself, and she knew that Anna was trying to control her excitement, trying to breathe deeply, trying to take it all in.
"Whatever you want." She'd spoken once she had been certain that not another string of words would follow the previous sentence.
She as well had stood from where she had been sitting and had went beside her. Ungloved hands had held both of Anna's shoulders at arm's length, giving her a smile of assurance before she'd engulfed her in a tight hug.
"You know I only want you to be happy." She had said, above a whisper, but close enough as she rested her chin on the crest of Anna's neck.
"And I you."
The rest of the morning had been spent making plans for the wedding, ideas being tossed here and there. More than occasionally, there had been laughter, and there had been more than enough smiles that could last them a lifetime. She'd asked Anna how she was despite the obvious answer, and she had asked Elsa the same, though she prodded more as she always had. And when breakfast had ended, both sisters had left in highspirits; Anna vowed to update her as Elsa vowed to herself that she'd be more honest if she'd dare to ask of her problems however the fact she wouldn't understand most of them.
. . .
In the afternoon, she had attended another convocation, but instead of having humour within it, it had staidness. It's a part of her job that she didn't look forward to amongst other things as it always left uneasiness within her, especially when she'd disagreed to most of the propositions old men had been presenting to her in forced politeness. She was sure they had thought of her incompetent due to her age and her gender; after all, in the hushed words of Lord Veron, what did she know about politics? Arendelle's economic stance wasn't enough, and so had been the alliances she'd managed to build; not to mention the kingdom's uncompromising walls, and its fluorishing state. She'd understood where they had been coming from; a man always tended to want more despite having most of what was necessary; a man always disagreed when a woman had a more significant authority. From observation, from the books she had read, but she was strong-stronger than who she had been before. She knew not to pay much mind to their leers, and sneers. After all, she was a queen, and was more refined than to engage in such pettiness.
"Your Majesty," they'd greeted once she had entered the room, chatters dying down into hushed whispers and into nothingness.
Her eyes flitted over to the empty chair at the other end of the table, the lack of a hand a reminder what these men had been pestering her about for half a decade. She told herself she wouldn't concede. She didn't do well with sharing, and, she argued, the right time to choose would come, the right person for the position would come. They just had to be patient.
"Good afternoon, gentlemen." She paused, taking the seat gracefully, and folding her hands upon the table in a manner of calmness and authority. "I heard there was a matter you wished to discuss." The intonation suggested that it was a question, despite having it phrased in a statement of urgency, of directness she often exuded.
"Ah, yes, Your Highness." The other lord had spoken in great respect as he had straightened himself. There seemed to have been caution within his actions, and she had fought to raise a brow at such a suspicious behaviour. "The matter concerning Hans Westergard. King Klaus of the Southern Isles has sent a letter concerning the agreement you had in court, and we're waiting for a course of action on your part. If you may,"
Her Majesty's brows had been furrowed, a frown settling on her svelte lips, though ghosted as she had crossed her legs underneath the table. There was a menacing glare that had been given towards the letter that was being passed man to man until it had reached her end, until it had burned the tips of her fingers that dared to strech out from the clasp. For a moment, she feared that her powers may take the best of her, reflecting what she felt towards the matter; but then, she had to remind herself that she was better than this, that she managed to become someone she wasn't before, someone that wielded strength than had hidden herself behind the back of something supernatural or closed doors. He wasn't going to topple her resolve once more, not when she believed herself to be better than the quivering woman she had been reduced to when her emotions had gotten the best of her in the fjord.
In silence, she'd peeled the letter off the table, ignored the insigna, and unfolded the words of a king who detested his brother, who had been ashamed out of his skin for what had been done. Eyes were pinned towards her, and she was more than aware to be comfortable, but she swallowed this, and prevented herself from doing something that could be viewed as incompetence, such as dropping the room's temperature by certain degrees.
Instead of berating with a simple glance, she focused on the task at hand.
"Dearest Her Majesty Queen Elsa of Arendelle,
A pleasant morning! I do wish that Her Majesty has experienced more than a fair morning, and would like to wish her the best of the afternoon, the evening, and the morrows to follow. I also would like to congratulate you as Arendelle continues to stand quite spectacularly. It impresses me that you've managed to repair what had been damaged due to monarchial absence, I dare say.
Pleasantries aside, I would like to inform you that Hans Westergard and I are due to arrive in a fortnight to discuss further punishments for his crimes towards the crown of Arendelle and the princess regnant. As agreed in the court of both Arendelle and the Southern Isles, both kingdoms would impose legal punishments in a span of five years; that is of course, if you wish not to cooperate, which would inevitably elicit another court hearing, and would further complicate the situation at hand. But, I suppose the council had informed you of the consequences if the queen wishes not to accommodate the former prince.
I would also like to inform you that I would like to discuss a business proposition to further fix the damage my youngest brother had made in our alliance. Hans' punishments shall also be discussed as we both had agreed that a death sentence was out of the equation. This being said, I wish you will accommodate me for two weeks in order to finally put everything at ease.
Respectfully yours,
King Klaus of the Southern Isles"
Silence. For a moment, she had settled with silence before deciding on reading it once more, and a second time before she'd come to a rather, emotional, decision.
"I would like to accept King Klaus' business proposition, but I cannot honor my end of the court agreement." She concluded, meticulously folding the piece of paper the way it had been when it was handed to her.
She kept her eyes level to those who dare question her decision, waiting for a specific reaction, whether it be positive or negative. She'd heard a lord clearing his voice, and had seen another scrunch his nose up in disagreement, further frowning until he sought deflection from another party. There had been a silent chorus of opposition, exchanging looks before they'd turned to the queen, some eyes pleading, others scolding.
"Your Majesty, I'm sure that doing so would only complicate our stand with the Southern Isles."
"I'm well-aware of that. I was present in the hearing five years ago." She stated, tone neutral, face the epitome of stoicism. Her blue eyes had been a shade darker, jaw quite clenched, though masked skillfully by neutrality.
"I'd like to remind you that some alliances had become possible because of the Southern Isles. If we were to sever-"
She turned to Lord Veron, who had picked up what Lord Mallory had started with much edge. She tilted her head quite so, eyes a little narrowed.
"As I said, I would accept the business proposition." She paused. "There's a significant difference between accommodating a king towards accommodating a criminal regardless if he is a former prince."
"Your Majesty, I beg of you to think this through. You had been informed of the consequences and-"
"-The meeting is adjourned. Thank you for your cooperation, gentlemen, but my decision is final. I'll send a letter in correspondence first thing in the morning right after our council."
Author's note:
I'd like to thank you guys for giving this story a chance. I honestly didn't expect to get anything than a few clicks, but I'm really thankful for the reviews I've been given. :)
