Author's Note:
Okay, WOW. I'm really surprised at how many views I've gotten so far! Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy this next chapter!
This story is rated T for dark content, just so you know.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Frozen or any of its characters or plot, I only own my own twists and changes!
Elsa was trapped in her room for eight years. Eight long years, in one guarded room. She had enough food and water, and replacement clothes when she needed them, but that was no excuse to do something like that to a little girl. And of course, there is one question: why didn't I stop it?
Because over time, I became afraid of her, too. Whenever I passed by her room, my temptation to walk in would disappear when I would hear her through the door. Sometimes, I would hear her laughing in there, and it wasn't a sweet child's laugh, it was... horrifying, somehow. I was almost certain that it wasn't a laugh of pleasure, it was a laugh of fear. And then other times, I would hear her screaming, a high and piercing sound. It was often that I would walk down the hallway and see one of the guards having to hack at ice that was creeping under the door, shattering it into thousands of tiny pieces. Frost also crawled along the door, and sometimes, the maids had to pour boiling water on the door in order to at least partially clear it. We were all afraid of what was happening in that room, that much was obvious.
Whenever Elsa was screaming or laughing, I always tried to distract myself with Anna, who was like a bright ray of sunshine in our cold and dark castle. She was always cheerful, running around and causing mischief. That's what the castle sorely needed, a child, who was innocent enough not to know about our dark secret, her sister. She knew that Elsa always stayed in her room, but she somehow never found out about Elsa's powers.
The worst times, though, were when I wasn't with Anna, and I passed by Elsa's door, and it was completely silent behind it. I would always think that she had finally died, and I was never sure if I was horrified or... pleased about it, overjoyed that the darkness that surrounded her was gone. Those thoughts always filled me with the worst guilt, until I could hear her voice behind the door, and I sighed with relief, then wondered why I was relieved.
Elsa was always a source of conflicting feelings and difficult decisions, and the day we opened the door and saw her room for the first time in eight years was no exception. The only advance warning I had was when I woke up next to George, and he looked at me and whispered, "We're opening the door today." We both knew exactly what he was talking about, and as I prepared for it, I felt this awful creeping dread overcoming me. Cold dawn light broke on the window, and the grey clouds outside depicted my mood perfectly. Not quite dark enough to rain, but certainly not happy sunshine. It seemed to be the kind of weather that foreboded a day full of sick anticipation.
It was only an hour later when we were standing outside the door, George to my left and Anna to my right. I held her hand, smiling at her encouragingly. She smiled back, but it was more nervous than excited, that smile. She was probably worried that Elsa would be cold and unfeeling, a terrible sister. I feared for much worse.
The guard took hold of the door handle, then winced and quickly pulled it away. Frost had grown along it, and he pulled on a glove before grabbing it again, though he still shivered from the frigid feeling. He turned the knob with a click, and the door swung open.
"Elsa?" I said quietly. "It's us."
Within the dark interior, we could see the silhouette of a thin young woman sitting on a bed, her hair in a braid that ran down her shoulder. Her head turned towards us in one quick motion, and I started slightly as it did. She then stood, and started slowly walking towards the door. I could feel George beginning to back away, but I took his hand and squeezed it, and he stilled. And Elsa kept walking. After a few seconds, she stopped, and we could see her pale hair glistening in the gray light, and her clear blue eyes sparkling. The bags under her eyes had only darkened over the years, and her figure was tall and lithe, almost graceful. She was beautiful, but in a cold, lifeless way.
"Hello, mother," she said in what was almost a whisper. "It's been too long."