Hey everybody! Before I begin, I just want to say thank you to ALL of you for reading. I received some really great reviews for my last chapter, and they really just made my day. So if you've reviewed, favorited, or even followed my fic, then thanks a lot! You really inspired me to write :D.

Okay, so this chapter takes place a day after the last, and it gets very depressing and gruesome at some parts. Its also VERY long. More than double the length of my last chapter... as you can tell, I tend to ramble. Well, anyway, I hope you like it. Enjoy!


Elsa could barely sleep that night. She doubted she'd ever be able to sleep again.

Her breathing was loud and consistent in her ear. Her heartbeat rough and unsteady. Every little creak that broke out into the night, whether real or just in her head, shocked her to alertness, and she found that she could not drift even close to the sweet, comforting border of unconsciousness.

Not that sleep seemed all that pleasant, at the moment. With the mix of hopeless desperation for the truth she had discovered, and nervous anticipation for the truth that was yet to come, she knew all she'd end up having was another nightmare. But at a time like this, as she lay awake in the dead of night consuming herself with fear, even a nightmare seemed like a blessing. Anything, it seemed, was better than reality.

Elsa wasn't sure what time it was when she finally gave up on trying to get a good night's rest, but by the look of the moon in the sky and the silence that pulsated from the darkness around it, she could tell that it was very, very late. Creeping on stealthy toes, she pulled herself from her bed and walked over to the window at the edge of her room, her nightgown fluttering at her ankles as light and soundless as a whisper.

The window in her room had a built-in stool beneath it, dressed in a soft, blue pillow for comfort. Very carefully, Elsa sat herself upon it, gazing outwards at the paned glass. She remembered, years ago, how one of her first major outburst of power—or at least the first that she hadn't even meant to release—had been at a window just like this one. Back before she moved herself into a smaller bedroom—Anna's absence making the room built for two seem incredibly huge and lonely—Elsa had always found herself gazing out of the huge window at the very end of the room, nearly five times as big as the one she had now. After having only been trapped inside for a day of two, not yet used to the confinement, Elsa had missed nature's wonders desperately, and this was the only way she got to see its sweet face again.

The sky was clouded to the point of overflow on that certain afternoon, and though she'd seen it almost a thousand times before, her eight-year-old self couldn't help but gaze at the light layer of snow just beginning to graze the ground. It was so beautiful, she remembered thinking to herself, just too perfect. And it was her. She was not the sun princess, not the sand princess, not even the rain princess. She was the ice princess, and this snow was for her. She was sure of it.

She hadn't been scared, hadn't even been the tiniest bit nervous, on that certain day. But maybe it had been the excitement, the adrenaline pumping through her veins, that had put her over the edge. As she had pressed her hands against the windowsill, gazing out as her breath fogged the glass, it had only taken only a split second for the particles of familiar ice to shoot out beneath her fingertips. In an instant, the entire sill had turned to an icy, stinging blue. She had been shocked, really. Shocked and scared and confused. It was the first time she had used her ice powers by accident, and the moment when she realized that they weren't entirely in her control. But she hadn't known, yet. Hadn't known just how powerful she was meant to be. The next day, her father had given her the gloves, and whatever worry still floating in her mind had been set at ease. If only she'd known…

Elsa blinked twice, realizing the unpleasant place her thoughts were wandering, and pulled herself back to reality. As she sat upon the ledge, looking outwards at the gooey blackness—not a star in sight—she began to feel just like the moon. So bright and strong and powerful… yet all alone. And what was the point of being powerful if she didn't have anyone to share it with? She didn't know, she really didn't.

She felt as if she had stared into nothingness for hours, and eventually, her sleep timer managed to catch up with her. Three hours before the designated arrival of her parents, Elsa passed out on the windowsill where she still sat, her face pressed against the glass and smudging it with natural oil. Lucky for her, at least, her general exhaustion had presented her with the gift of a dreamless sleep. Not a nightmare in sight. This would prove as blessing later on. At least she got a few hours peace before she was thrust into the worst experience of her entire life.

She woke, as expected, to the sound of her parent's sharp, loud knock on her door. As they entered without invitation, she arose from her spot on the windowsill, her pale face looking pinker than usual at the thought of being caught in such an embarrassing position. Quickly, Elsa ran to the bathroom to change into her day dress and fix her messy braid. She looked over herself in the full-length mirror, forcing a fake smile to stretch across her face, before hurrying over to her waiting mother and father. They both looked very grim today. Elsa struggled to hold back the gulp in her throat.

Anna must have still been sleeping this morning, for her parents didn't even bother to avoid the main hallways. They trudged gloomily down to the same door that they had led their first-born daughter into yesterday, and her heart pounded in her chest as she followed them, nervously glancing around at the walls.

They marched her straight passed all the dungeons that stretched across the first hallway, even passed her own personal prison, and that allowed Elsa to breathe a sigh of relief. At least she wouldn't have to go there anymore. She followed them all the way until the hallway ended, a new one—far emptier than the first— branching off to the right. It didn't even have torches spread out across it to give off light, and Elsa found herself gripping onto her dad's hand so that she didn't veer off or run into a wall or something stupid like that. She may have been far more graceful than Anna, but that didn't mean she didn't have her share of klutz hidden in her DNA.

The hall ended with a single, latched door, and her mother and father stopped dead in their tracks. Her father lit his own personal torch so that they could all see each other. He looked at Elsa deep in her eyes, and in shame of the coldness of her own, she looked away. She could feel his gaze, his judgment, spreading throughout her, and she cringed away in shyness. Unlike Anna, she wasn't much of an attention-lover.

"Elsa, honey," she heard her mother whisper to her, the first word she had spoken the entire way here. "We need you to be strong today, okay? What you're about to see may scare you, but you need to stay strong."

Her father nodded in agreement. "Just remember," he added, "You still have a chance to live a perfectly normal, happy life. There's nothing to worry about. This is only a warning, a reminder, for you to stay on the right track. Your mother and I both love you desperately. Never doubt that."

Elsa nodded, her eyes wide and her entire body tense. How bad was this mystery room? She tried to ease her mind by taking a serious of calming breaths, but no matter what, no relaxation came. She figured she'd just have to tough it out until it was all over. Whenever 'it' happened to be, she could do this.

She watched, almost in emotional detachment, as her father slid a bronze key into the lock on the door. Admiring the way his wrist turned so gracefully, she barely even heard the deadly click as it rang out into the air. She stood stock-still as he pushed away the heavy block of steel—something even stronger than iron, she thought—and followed him, her head down, as he strutted inside. She couldn't process what she saw for a good long time. It was all so much to take in.

The first thing her mind picked up was the smell. It was rank and rancid, stinging her nostrils and causing them to crinkle in disgust. It was a concoction of such a varied mix of scents that her nose could barely even distinguish them all. Sweat, she knew, was rather strong in the aroma. There was also a heavy tint of rotting wood, covered up almost fully by the indistinguishable smell of human waste. And could it be that that was a hint of blood she detected in the air?

Her eyes found the floor, first, and her mind was unsettled at the way the cement below her seemed to be tinted pink, most likely by the continuous contact of a substance that must have been very red to leave such a mark. The skin at her fingertips tingled.

As she raised her head, she discovered where the smell of rotting wood was coming from. Despite the entire room being made up of almost entirely concrete, there was an array of strange, wooden structures splayed out across the empty space, looking almost like a weird little jungle gym. Elsa gawked at all the contraptions. They were all very different sizes, some with wheels, or holes, or levers, or even chains, and all gave her a very uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, though she couldn't for the life of her figure out why. She had no idea what these things were, she'd never seen anything like them before.

Slowly, Elsa turned to her parents. They stood behind her, hands still clasped coldly in their laps, and she saw real guilt in their eyes. She didn't know why. What was there to feel guilty about for a bunch of old toys?

"What is this room?" she asked, gazing around with a strange mix of curiosity and uncertainty. "What are these wood things for?"

Usually her father might have scolded her for using a word as casual and un-queen like as 'things,' but today he didn't seem to be in the mood. He only shook his head sadly, not even bothering to answer her.

"Come on, Elsa dear," her mother suddenly spoke up, and Elsa was shocked to see her eyes shining with unreleased tears. "We're almost there, just follow us."

The girl nodded and let her parents walk ahead of her before following right at their heels. In the emptiness of the giant room, the click of her mother's shoes echoed around and around, and Elsa used that flat, continuous sound to calm her aching nerve. It wasn't such a big deal. Whatever it was, she'd just have to get over it. She knew she could.

As she followed in her parents wake, the boundaries of this gigantic room expanding whenever they turned a corner, the endless pile of contraptions did not cease to surprise and amaze her. She saw ropes hanging from the ceiling in simple little loops. Stone pits dug into the ground that seemed almost endless in depth. Tiny, bared cages that were so small even a child would have to crouch in them. And blades. Lots and lots of blades.

Mother and father had always told Anna and her that knives were dangerous, and so Elsa had never had much of an experience with them, but by the looks of it, her parents were gigantic hypocrites. Whichever servant worked in this place must have loved those sharp, little weapons, because she had never seen so many in all her life. Everywhere she looked she saw a glint of silver in the corner of her vision, all different shapes and styles and sizes. She didn't even know blades came in this many different ways. It was very strange to think that her parents were so fond of them.

The site of all the glinting silver, she found, had filled her with an immaculate, illogical sense of dread, and she found herself gazing down at her shoes rather than have to look at any more of the strange toys surrounding her. Being the princess she was, she was aware that her parents had tried hard to shelter her from a lot of the scarier things in life, and somehow she felt that this was one of those mysterious things. But not anymore. Today her vision of the world around her would get just a little bit clearer.

She knew her parents had arrived at their intended destination almost immediately. She didn't know why, but it was almost as if something in the air changed when they got close to it. As if the fear itself was thick and palpable around them. When she got near enough to sense the presence of another human being standing in the room with them, she was absolutely positive she was where she was meant to be. Slowly, ignoring the way her heart thumped mechanically in her chest, Elsa raised her head.

What she saw first was not much of a surprise. Just a servant. Not as pleasant or as formal-looking as the others that worked in the house—that was for sure—but a servant all the same. He was an old man with barely any hair at all scraping his round head, and he was dressed in the classic guard's ware. Except, of course, that his clothing was covered in an array of mysterious-looking stains. At the moment, Elsa didn't feel like trying to guess what they were from.

Besides the man, what really caught her eye was the pair of feet dangling besides him. Cold, bare feet. They were swinging there helplessly, kicking out every once in a while but otherwise staying relatively still. Elsa did not hesitate to look up and stare at the person they belonged to.

It was a woman. She had long, black, stringy hair, and her arms were raised high above her head, attached to rusting metal chains that hooked to the ceiling. By the way her shoulder blades jutted out, it was clearly not a very comfortable position, but she did barely anything to struggle against them. She must have been hanging there for quite a while, to be being so submissive, and the gaunt, sickly look of her face and body was a pretty big clue that nobody had bothered to feed her during all that time. She had a grimace on her face, and the look of her pained expression was immediately copied onto Elsa's own. She couldn't help it. Whatever was happening to this poor lady was wrong. She knew it was.

"Mama, Papa," she whispered, her voice higher-pitched than usual, "What's going on here?" She hardly ever called her parents 'mama and papa' unless she was really upset, really needed their help. They seemed to understand this, and she could feel them shrink behind her.

"This woman," she heard her father reply in false strength, "Is paying for her crimes, Elsa. Do you have any guesses as to what her crimes could be?"

Crimes? Elsa couldn't imagine how a woman so sad and hopeless looking could have done anything seriously wrong in the past, and even if she had, why would Elsa care? At the moment, all she cared about were the thin, dirty rags draped over her emancipated body. The way her feet were bare and bleeding, nearly black with muck. She wasn't a pretty woman, really. Even without the gauntness of her face, and the smears of grime rubbed upon it, her skin was rather wrinkled and dry, and her nose far too large and bumpy to be considered desirable. But somehow this scene had given her a sort of tragic beauty that could not be ignored, and ignored it was not. Without warning, Elsa felt a wash of love and pity spread upon her as she gazed upwards at the weakened woman. Is this what they did to all the criminals in Arendelle? Is this what they did to all the criminals everywhere?

"No, no," Elsa huffed out, almost forgetting that her father had asked her a question. "I don't care what her crimes are. Why is she hanging up there? What are you doing to her?"

"She's getting what she deserves, Elsa."

"No. Please, put her down."

She could practically feel the way her father released his sigh of frustration, his heavy shoulders heaving, but at the moment she cared not a bit. All that mattered was that woman. That dainty, little woman. What were they doing to her?

"Honey," she heard her mother whisper, her voice raspy with sadness. "This prisoner was jailed for witchcraft."

Elsa couldn't process that for a second. Witchcraft? She'd certainly heard that term before, passed between the lips of schoolchildren as they told each other the fascinating, yet disturbing, tales of magic, but never before had it been said to her with such disgust. As if it were some horrible, monstrous thing.

"Witchcraft?" Elsa asked, not even turning around to face who she was talking to. "You mean… she has powers like me?"

"Exactly," her father responded. "Not ice powers, but powers all the same. By the looks of it she'd been hiding them fairly well for a while, but the villagers found out a few days ago and with such a cry of outrage we had no choice but to send her here. We decreed the punishment that they suggested. We had no other option, Elsa; they would have started a riot had we declined."

"W-what exactly did she do?" Her voice was so shaky it was embarrassing.

"They say she was casting spells on them. Cursing their crops so that they wouldn't grow and casting bad luck charms on all the merchants so that their goods wouldn't sell. A child went missing a few days ago, and they claimed she was the one who took him. Used his bones to concoct one of her potions. They were all so riled up… they would've thrown her in the river themselves if I hadn't sentenced her."

Suddenly, from a weak, raspy voice above them, came a croak of protest.

"Lies," hissed the woman, tears dripping down her face. "All lies. Innocent…" She coughed weakly and then went quiet. Elsa hadn't realized she had even been conscious. Her eyes were so dark and empty, it was heartbreaking.

"SILENCE!" screamed the guard below her, so loud his voice shook the entire room. "DO NOT CONTRADICT THE KING, YOU WICKED BEAST!" Without even hesitating, he grabbed her legs and yanked hard. The sound of her shoulder blades cracking was just barely audible beneath the woman's cry of pain. Elsa shuddered on the spot, and her eyes filled with cold water.

"See!" she exclaimed. "She said she's innocent! It's all just a misunderstanding! Just let her go!"

"Elsa, princess," her father whispered, coming up closer to lay a hand on her shoulder. "I can't do that. Whether she did it or not, the child was kidnapped, and someone needs to pay. Unfortunately for her, the village chose her to be that person. But that's just the way life is sometimes. Its unfair."

Elsa couldn't even begin to wrap her mind around all this. It just didn't make any logical sense. She had thought—was sure—that the only people who were arrested were actual criminals. People who had commited real crimes and were too dangerous to be left running loose. But this? It was insane! Why punish someone if you didn't even know they were guilty or not? Elsa couldn't let this happen… she just couldn't!

"Why did you even bring me here?" she moaned, not taking her eyes off of the victim. "Why are you even showing me this? Please stop it. Please, I'm begging you."

"Elsa, we can't do that," her mother replied, her voice as soft as a flower. "Your father and I agreed that this would be the only way to make clear to you the true dangers of failing to hold back your powers. I know this is hard for you... but it's the only way."

Her father, satisfied with that explanation, turned to the servant standing silently by and released the three short words that would repeat in Elsa's nightmares every night for the next three years of her life.

"Begin the execution."

Execution. In Elsa's opinion, it was the most horrible word that had ever existed.

The servant nearly seemed to smile as he leaned backwards and picked up a long, thin strip of cloth behind him. Elsa had never seen one in person before, but she knew enough to understand that it was a whip. And that getting hit with it hurt… a lot.

The first time the strip of leather was raised into the air, Elsa did nothing. She just stood completely still and watched, in almost robotic like attention, as the man swung it towards the woman's back. There was a loud, deafening crack, and her screams broke out into the air, high-pitched and painful. Elsa gasped, stepping backwards. Somehow, even with all those other noises surrounding her, she could still hear her heartbeat loud and consistent in her ear.

"Stop, please stop this," she murmured, voice static and emotionless. "Let her down. Now."

"No Elsa," one of her parent's responded. She couldn't tell which, her mind was in too much of a flurry, but at the moment she didn't really care. The whip swung down again and lashed against the woman. She struggled harshly against the chains, tilting her head up and screaming towards the heavens. This time, Elsa's own voice mingled with her own.

"Stop it!" she yelled, frantic this time. "Please stop! I can't take this, just stop!"

"Elsa, please, you can handle it. We know you can."

As the third strike found its mark, Elsa let her gaze linger and spotted the way the woman's filthy rags were beginning to slowly soak through with a thick, red liquid. They ran across the fabric in cracked, jagged lines. Like crevices in the earth. Cracks in ice. Elsa couldn't breathe.

"No, no, no I can't handle this, I can't do it," her voice was halfway between a sob and a scream, so cracked that it was barely even distinguishable as her own. "I'll do anything… please. Just let her go."

"We're sorry, princess, but she's only getting what she deserves."

A fourth and a fifth strike attacked the woman's fragile skin. Then a sixth and a seventh and an eighth. Each was attached to a bloodcurdling scream, none any less frightening than the last. Elsa could practically feel the way the woman's skin must have stung as the force of the blow stretched across her back. The soft, warm feel of blood as it flowed down the curves of her body. The vibrations of the whip as its power traveled right through to her very bones. She wanted it to end, she wanted it so badly she could barely breathe. But she knew it wouldn't. They would just keep lashing the woman, over and over and over again, until her frail little body gave way into itself and the life seeped out of her magical soul. She was going to die no matter what. At this revelation, Elsa's fingers burned. She hadn't even noticed the strong sensation of tingling that had been traveling down her spine for the past few minutes. She looked at her feet and saw the way the stone beneath her was already beginning to freeze over, the ice already having broken through the soles of her shoes. This couldn't be good.

"Fine," Elsa whimpered, tears blurring her vision to the extent that she could see nothing but a blob of depressing shapes. "FINE! But if you're going to do this, just let me out of here! I can't watch this! I really, really can't! Just let me out!"

"Elsa, please, you can do this. Conceal, don't feel. Don't let it show."

It was her father speaking that time, she could just tell. He was trying to reassure her. She didn't care. Nothing he said could reassure her ever again. Elsa backed up against the wall, her hand brushing momentarily against the stone behind her. She was wearing her newly-improved gloves, but it almost didn't seem to matter. She had never experienced so much emotional trauma in all her life, not even with Anna. These gloves stood no chance.

The lashes kept raining down on the woman's back, her screams continuing to echo throughout the silent room. It would never end. Never, ever, ever end. Elsa felt the way her frost began to climb up the wall, slide across the floor. It was spreading like wildfire in a forest of oak, like a disease in a tenant crammed with people. She couldn't hold it in. She couldn't hold it in!

"Elsa," her father scolded, backing away to avoid the spreading sheets of ice. "Stop this at once! Control yourself!"

"I can't!" she shrieked, her voice as shrill as a bird's. "Just stop this! Just end this! Please, I'm begging you, I can't do this anymore!" She was hyperventilating now. Every breath she released was flecked with particles of snow. By the way her parents shivered in the corner, she could tell the temperature in the room must have lowered considerably. There was so much ice on the wall and floor around her it looked as if an igloo had exploded in the corner.

"ELSA!" her father yelled right back, his voice clearly trying to sound angry but ending up with more than a tint of desperation. "You need to learn to deal with this right now! Do you want to end up like her!?"

The words. The lash. The scream. The trembling. The burning. The pain. The ice.

Did she want to end up like her? No, no she didn't.

But it looked like she didn't have a choice.

And that was when it had happened. So quick and powerful and unannounced, it literally knocked Elsa off her feet. She'd never known she held that much power. It terrified her even more.

As she had stood there, cowering in the corner, she had exploded. Literally. That was the only word that seemed to fit. An immense stream of her icy powers had erupted from her fingers, shooting across the room as fast as a bullet and as large as an ocean wave. Everything it passed turned to an icy, shining blue. Her parents just narrowly missed standing in its path. The servant jumped out of the way just in time. The woman, however, could do nothing but continue to sob in her rusting chains. She didn't even see it coming. Elsa figured it was better that way.

When the girl looked up, her back aching as it had been flung against the wall, she caught sight of the work she had created. The woman, now held to the ceiling by chains of a slick, translucent material, was now completely frozen. Her body was carved fully of ice, an expression of complete pain stretched across her translucent features. But it didn't matter anymore, because that woman's pain was gone now. Her expression was only evidence of the crimes that had been done to her. Evidence of how she had suffered.

She may have looked gruesome before, but under the dim lighting of the cellar, the woman's icy skin sparkling in a thousand different ways, she looked absolutely ravishing. A mere picture of innocence and beauty. Ice, Elsa realized, made everything beautiful. Often in the most horrible of ways.

As she sat there, paralyzed at what she had done, her parents had stared at her, looks of shock and fear plaguing their faces. They were afraid of her, she realized. Only now did they understand her true power. Only now could they really see just how impossible it was for her to hold back. They had to. She had shown them, proved to them, that no matter how hard she pushed it inside, her power always pushed a thousand times harder. There was no way she could win.

As Elsa tore her eyes away from her parents, she gazed once more at the sadness of her creation. She looked at all its beautiful, elegant curves, a well of pain beginning to build up inside her. The poor woman did not deserve to be hung up by those perilous chains any longer. Without a moment's thought, Elsa cracked the ice above her. What once bound her had fallen away. For a second, her frozen body seemed almost to be suspended in midair, then it came crashing to the ground. It split into a thousand separate pieces. Shards of ice splattered everywhere.

Good, Elsa thought. Now she's finally at rest. Finally free. I just wish she could've taken me with her.

Without thinking, Elsa pushed herself up from the ground. It was slippery with ice, but somehow she did not struggle to regain her balance. Within seconds she was standing straight and tall in the corner of the room. The center of attention.

She looked at her parents. Her mother had an expression of pure shock and fear painted upon her beautiful face. Her father's was merely a mix of blinding fury and tingling disappointment. Elsa gazed at them for only a second. She could not stand to look at them, those horrible emotions in their eyes, for any longer. In an instant, without so much as a second thought, she'd turned and ran. Ran as far and as fast as she could. She didn't look back once.

As her feet pounded against the cold, cement ground, the sounds of her footsteps shattering the silence and echoing around and around in the large room, Elsa barely felt as her own frozen tears began to glide down face, leaving invisible lines of frost against her cheeks. Her parents weren't following her just yet, but she knew by experience that she was trailing a path of ice behind her. Wherever she went, it was only a matter of time before they would catch up to her. She ran anyway.

Before long, she had reached the heavy, steel door that had brought her here. She didn't even try to pull it open herself. Instead she stuck out her hands, and in a single pulse of anger, a mound of ice pushed from her fingers and knocked that chunk of metal right off its sockets. What did it matter anymore? After what she'd already done today, it was practically nothing.

As she strutted through the gaping hole in the wall, she heard her father shout, from somewhere out of her line of sight, "Elsa, come back!" She paid his voice no attention. If anything, she ran a little faster.

Her mind was swimming with too many emotions to process. So many that even as her chest heaved from running up the hundreds of steps to the main floor of the castle, her body screaming for oxygen, she didn't slow down a bit. Somehow, she couldn't even remember how, she ended up crouched against the smooth, marble wall of the ballroom. Her back slid all the way down it until she was sitting on the floor, her knees pressed against her chest and her head curled downwards. She pushed her hands to her face and trembled for the longest time, tears rolling silently down her cheeks and soaking her beautiful, hand-made dress. She didn't even care. Didn't even notice. Nothing mattered anymore.

She wasn't sure how long she had been sobbing there, alone, when she heard footsteps coming up in front of her. For some strange reason, she wished they were Anna's. She didn't want to speak to either of her parent's right now, and the prospect of someone finally seeing things her way—for Anna surely would, there was no doubt—was just too beautiful to bear. But no, when the male voice rang out into the chill of the room, Elsa knew that it most definitely did not belong to her little sister.

"Elsa..." her father began, his voice hollow with shock. "W-what have you done?"

He was probably speaking about the trails of ice she had left lying around the house. Up here, Anna could be anywhere, and she knew perfectly well that the girl was not to find out about any of this. Usually this would've concerned her, but not today. There wasn't any real risk to it, anyway, as it seemed that Anna was still deep in her princess-like slumber. Elsa wasn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed that her sister was such a late riser.

"I don't know," she replied, her voice cracked with tears. "I don't know anything anymore."

Almost soundlessly, she felt as her father stepped closer to her. He turned his back to the wall and slid himself right down next to her frail body, his hand resting comfortably atop her knee. She wanted to shrink away from him, wanted to scream at him to leave her alone, to truly hate his guts with every ounce of her being, yet for some reason, she just couldn't. For some reason, from the very stem of her soul, she loved her father with everything she was. And she just couldn't let that go. In an instant, she had collapsed into him, pressing her head into his chest and flooding his royal robes with her tears. She had held those beads of water in for so long, but now they were finally out. She couldn't say she was surprised.

"I'm so sorry, Papa," she cried, her voice quivering like a child's. "I'm so sorry, I couldn't take it. But why? Why did you show me that? WHY DID YOU HAVE TO DO THAT TO HER?"

Her father just shook his head, one hand stroking her long, white hair.

"Its alright, Elsa," he replied, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the back of the wall. "It's all alright. Your mother and I were only trying to help you. We shouldn't have… it was too soon. But its alright, just calm down now, okay? Just calm down, stop crying, it's all going to be alright."

At his request, Elsa lifted her head, sniffing silently and rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. She probably looked like a mess right now. Her hair flying out of her once-neat braid and her eyes all puffy and red. But at the moment, her appearance was the least of her worries.

"I'm alright," she repeated, shaking away her despair. "I am."

Her father gave her a very weak smile. "Good girl," he replied, causing her to beam at him. "Now, the servants need to scrape down the ice you made before Anna wakes up. But in the meanwhile, and I hate to say this, I'm going to need you out of the way."

Elsa nodded in understanding. "That's fine," she said, "I'll just go up to my room. I promise; I won't come out until I feel like I can control myself again."

To her surprise, her father only hung down his head and shook it sadly.

"I'm afraid that's too much of a risk, princess," he whispered, and before Elsa could even process what was happening, two large guards had come out of nowhere and hoisted her to her feet, shoving newly stitched gloves onto her hands.

"W-what?" She gasped in horror. "What's going on?"

"I'm sorry, but… we're going to have to confine you to your, um, 'special room' until the adrenaline runs from your system."

Elsa was speechless. He couldn't possibly be talking about her dungeon… could he?

"B-but," she stuttered, the tears beginning to sting again. "I-I can't—"

"I'm sorry, Elsa," he said again, this time louder. "But this is the way it has to be for now. Don't worry, I'll come get you in an hour or so when I'm sure you're calm."

He turned to face the guards.

"Take her away," he demanded, and they did just that.

Within fifteen minutes, Elsa was once again introduced to that familiar, snowflake doorway. As she entered, her gloves were peeled off and her hands shoved deep inside those metal cups. She felt them click and lock around her wrists, the chains banging together as she pulled against them, and she cried out when she saw the guards shuffling out of her empty prison.

"Please!" she called to them, desperation in her voice. "Don't leave me!"

The first guard looked at her with an expression of cold stone, as if she were some sort of monster, and she looked away in heavy shame. The other, however, had kinder eyes, almost sympathetic, and he said to her guiltily, "I'm sorry, princess," before he walked out and shut the door behind him, leaving her, once again, all alone.

Almost immediately, Elsa felt a well of panic beginning to build up in the pit of her stomach. Alone and trapped, alone and trapped, alone and trapped. She'd rather be anywhere in the entire world than in this cage, she was sure of it.

Inevitably, she watched as a vein of frost began to crawl up the metal cups on her hands without her trying, turning the metallic gray to a cool blue. She waited, her heart in a swirl of hope and fear, for her ice to spread up the chains and crumble them away into a pile of icy crystals. Instead, however, as fast as they had appeared, the particles of frozen water melted right away. Elsa was surprised. She tried again, this time shooting the frost on purpose, but once again it all melted. Something was happening here. This wasn't right.

As she gazed across the room, it didn't take her long to spot the thin, rectangular slits cut high up into the stone wall. From where she sat, sprawled on the hard ground, Elsa could still feel the soft push of the air that came from it. She couldn't quite tell what temperature it was, but she had the feeling that the air it blew was very, very hot. She remembered the way the guards had pushed back beads of sweat that had clung to their foreheads when they had locked her up. She hadn't noticed it then, but now it suddenly came back to her, seeming a thousand times more important. That slit was a vent. There must have been a furnace on the other side of that wall. Her parents had put it there to melt her powers.

That was smart, Elsa thought to herself as she let go of any thoughts she'd had about escape. Very, very smart. If only she could carry a furnace with her wherever she when, then all her problems would be over.

Her mind now feeling comfortably numb, Elsa leaned her head down on the floor and curled up into a tight ball. The stone was extremely rough and hard, but the bed-frame still hadn't been cushioned, so it was all she had. Slowly, her heartbeat once again loud and consistent in her ear, Elsa's eyelids stuck closed, and she fell asleep to the comforting thought that the worst was over. Her life could get nothing but better from here on out.

If only she knew how wrong she was…


Well, that was it... I worked really hard on this chapter, but since its so long, I'm sure there are plenty of mistakes in there, and its not really written as well as it could have been. Still, I'm really proud of it, and I'm super excited to write more. I have plenty of more ideas, one's even better than this one, and I seriously can't wait to write them. Please, if you liked this chapter (and even if you didn't) review! I just want to know that people are reading the things I write. What do you guys think... should I continue?

Oh, and btw, the reason Elsa couldn't break through her chains in this chapter, but she could in the movie, is because Elsa's powers get a lot stronger as she grows. At the age she's at now, she's simply not strong enough to break through.

Anyway... I hope you liked it! I'll try to update as soon as I can ;)