Anna is by the dessert table when I find her eating a strawberry tart. She has some white cream on her upper lip when she notices me. "Oh hey Elsa, 'haven't gotten the chance to say Happy 15th! How'd the throne feel? Did you like it?" Yap yap yap. I only hear half of it.
"Yeah, Mom said to come get you and get ready for bed upstairs," I break her off. She pauses a moment, then complies with the demand. The rest of the tart is practically swallowed whole and absorbed by her stomach acids. Then she prances off up the grand spiral staircase. I can't help but roll my eyes at her giddy demeanor.
I meet some guests out in the courtyard. Each guest nods and says something along the lines of "Happy Birthday, your highness," or "Have a pleasant evening, Princess." I smile and thank them and nod and bow and maintain grace and get dizzy until everyone is gone. The rage from 10 minutes ago is mixing with my irritation and it's showing in my voice.
I wave to some left over stragglers with one hand, and my shoes and dress skirt and organs in the other while I climb the thousand stairs. I hold together long enough to make it to my bed and shut the door behind me. The sheets under me feel so cool on my back, and wet with my tears. They slowly freeze and form heavy drops of ice on the bedding. With my shoes kicked off and my corset unbuttoned, I slide to the floor and slap my palm on the cold surface. A sheet of ice forms a snowflake shape centering my hand. Another drop of salt water hits the floor and similarly repeats the same thing.
I'm curled up inside myself. I let my head hang over my knees and fall to the side. Each drop of anger, of sadness, of pain, of loneliness, of me hugs the ground in snowflake form. Once I notice this, I bend over and squeeze the last dew drop out of me, again watching it repeat it's brethren. Pain boils over into anger. That fucking bitch!
No! My tears fling across the room.
No! No! No! The cold eats up the floor when my fists pound it.
This isn't happening! No! Snowflakes rise up and tornado around me, enveloping me - concealing me. I'm swallowed and dispersed. I'm nothing anymore. I am snow.
I am the snow! I spend hours repeating this, realizing this, defeating this - pounding it to death. Over and over. The ice has eaten me up and became me. Me...
As a child, my parents idolized me. They would have given me anything. I wasn't an evil child. Snow wasn't the only thing that gave me life. I was 3 years old when Anna came into the picture. I loved her with every ounce of my being. She was my best friend. One summer morning, I woke her up earlier than the birds would and we snuck outside. There was this special tree that was out of sight from the master bedroom window; distance kept it hidden.
There was a family of goldfinches that nested near the top of the tree. If we got up early enough, we could see them sleeping. So peaceful. So adorable. We climb to the top, getting little bangs or tears in our night gowns on the way. Anna giggled at the sight, "Those two little ones back there remind me of us!" She pointed her tiny finger towards two small baby birds that were snuggling in the corner of the nest. One was slightly bigger than the other. Anna whispered to me that I was the biggest one and she was the little one. It made me laugh to hear the comparison, and the smallest finch's eyes shot open at the sound. I turned to my sister and put my finger against my lips and shhhhhushed, then we climbed back down the tree.
A mommy duck lead her waddling ducklings down to the pond right passed us. The little ones were quacking and making little squeaky sounds. They made it to the water as Anna and I reached the tree next to it. The runt of the flock wabbled a little funny. It was slower than the rest of them. It's mama crosses back to it and nudges it's little butt along until it gets to it's brothers and sisters in the water. I watched and secretly compared this to myself. The mama duck is my parents, I am the little duckling...
The morning sun opens my tired eyes. My forehead feels strained after furrowing my brows all night. I grimace at the light. It reflects off the ice below me and directly into my pupils. Everything is white. The walls are white. The floor is blueish-white. My insides are painful.
I'm on the floor. I slept on the ice. Everything is frosted over and I'm in the center of a circle of icy snow. I'm a little frosted myself, though I'm phased by the coldness. The mass of a ship in port blocks a little of the light when I stand up - it casts a shadow on the floor that I absentmindedly attempt to use as my only path to the window. Some men are carrying luggage onto the ship. One is standing at the end of the dock talking to my father. I roll my eyes at the sight - if I roll them any faster, they'd probably melt from friction heat.
Somehow, the wind has unhinged the window and opened it. Bits and pieces of their conversation ride the current into my room as it echos up the side of the castle. They're discussing the weather for the trip. The man says it should be decent for the whole way to Corona. They should make it in time for the wedding.
I glare at mother when she comes into view, telling her husband that she's so excited to see her sister again and thrilled to see her niece after she went missing and went on and on and on and on. Their voices annoy me.
Darkness spills into the cracks in the ice and grows up the walls. I release my demons out into the world once I open the seal between sanity and the hallway. The cold air blends with the heat and creates a fog. My breath looks like smoke.
I make my way downstairs. I don't think about anything I'm doing until the king and queen come inside to say their goodbyes. Maintain a strong poker face, I hug them and promise I'll be okay and take care of the little bitc- Anna. My mother smiles and embraces me. It isn't loving. It's cold. Everywhere on my body that she is touching leaves a freezing burn. The only cold that ever bothered me. This repeats with my father, except he doesn't try to hide his contempt towards me or my attitude or my powers or my being or whatever the hell he despises of me. Whatever I've done, he's disappointed in it, and I feel it in that hug.
He leans back slightly before pulling away and whispers, "You'll be fine, Elsa," in my ear. I nod and every muscle in my body freezes besides my eyes. I try to find a way to turn them off. Turn off my ears. Have everything be open, but off. There but not. Let me concave into myself. Please.
My little sister skips into the room, smiling. I look her up and down before saying, "Well good luck," and run back to my cave. There's a silence for the long time I'm running and I fill it with heavy breathing to keep myself sane. I'd stab it with a kitchen knife if it was an actual physical object. It's harder to drown yourself in silence.
They're small, light, voices travel up the stairs to me and the fuzzy pieces I hear are too generic for my interest level.
"Good luck in Corona!" That pierced my ears even from where I was sitting in the hall.
"Thank... dear, keep... eye on Elsa if you see her." There's a pause when my mother remembers that there is no way in hell Anna will ever see me.
"We're off then," my father says. I don't even have to try to roll my eyes. I can't stand the thought of any of them. None. Nope. Never ever. Ever.
My chest aches with the quick thought of them getting any closer to me than they are now. Those stairs are pure marble with carpet, and the walls are solid oak painted lightly. It's hard to breathe even with that distance between us. I retreat to my bed and quietly shut the door. That little duckling is still me. Even though I'm not the runt, somehow I'm still the little forgotten duckling, waddling my way into the world - blind, disadvantaged.
It's now I realized the sky is grey. I glance at the boat and it gets a little darker. I wonder if it's because of me but I wave it off as coincidence. The king and queen walk out with grace onto the ship. The captain bows and gestures them to the deck. They're off in a moment, and I'm curled up on the cushy window seat, still cold from this morning. I almost don't notice that my sister is outside my door. The crack I left open shines a light on the floor that turns into shadow when she stands there.
"Elsa? Can I come in?" she murmurs loud enough for me to hear, faintly. I groan to myself, make sure the ice is melted enough, and grant her permission. There's a dim light source from the candle on the other side of the room. She stumbles a moment closing the door behind her. I wrap my arms around my legs and dig my nails into my legs.
"What do you want?" I don't dare look at her. I keep my eyes glued to the ship on the water. It bobs as the sea twists and turns and swirls and crashes. The boat looks like a little dot from here.
"I just thought... you know... maybe you'd want some hot chocolate? I could bring it up if you'd like." Her voice annoys me. I sigh and the little dot is covered by frost.
"I'm okay," I reply - my voice cracks.
"Well... okay. Do you want me to stay here with you?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
I pull my eyes away from the window and stare straight at her. "Positive."
She's taken aback by my eyes. By the look I'm giving her. She folds her hands in front of her and says, "...Okay," then begins to walk away.
I return to the fjord. However she stops in the doorway, hand on the inner doorknob. I hold my breath. "Elsa?"
I was almost rid of her. "Yes?"
She's hesitant, as if not sure what to follow up. "I-I'm... I'm sorry."
My eyebrow raises, but I still don't look at her. "For what?"
"For upsetting you, I guess. I don't know what I did, but I know you've changed and now you barely talk to me. And the only thing I want to know is why, but I also know you're too stubborn to tell me," - she giggles at her remark, I assume which meant to be lighthearted, but it only infuriates me. She pauses, "...So what did I do?"
The neat, carefully placed pieces of me are teetering. They're cracking and falling and shaking and crashing. Everything inside me is loud screams and cursings and crying. The room is dead silent. Painfully silent. The blood behind my ears is rushing and swirling like the greatest snow storms. I think my nails drew blood on my legs.
"What did I do?" she repeats, anger rising in her voice. Wait no, desperation, definitely.
"Nothing," I sigh, finally. It takes all of my efforts to breath it out again.
She knows I'm lying. "I know it's something, can't you at least spare me the curiosity?"
"I said nothing, Anna. Please leave." My teeth crack from the grinding.
"I know that's not true!"
"LEAVE! L-E-A-V-E, Anna! Get the fuck out of my room! I'm done talking about this!" All that is left in the room is the faint echo of my voice. The silence that follows stings my ears.
I turn away from her and she's in tears. What a bitch. No muscle in my body dares to move an inch. My chest hurts.
She sighs, or breathes deeply, or something. The sound is audible and painful. Her footsteps grow further away, so do her sobs. The door slams and boots hit the ground as the little bitch runs to her room. The other door slams even harder.
Stupid bitch, she doesn't deserve me.
She doesn't understand me.
Or my powers.
She'll never see it.
Not even the throne's view. She'll never fucking see it!
They will never choose her over me!
Although my blood is burning, I'm colder than ice. It all happens so quickly. Ice rockets from my hands anywhere I point them. Breaks the window, shatters my vanity mirror. Everything is ice and snow. I am ice and snow. It's increasingly difficult to see the other side of the room. Ice seams the door shut. The walls frost over. There's crashing and banging, a symphony of anger and pain and destruction. I pound the floor and strike the wall and rip my dress and throw glass around the room. I bath in the cold and wash in the blood on my hands. I'm the little duckling. Only this time, no one is here to help me.
And my mother ducklings abandoned me when I needed them the most. The anger builds up inside me, turning into snow. If they want to fuck me over, I'll beat them to it. One last blast launches from the depths of my soul. The skies above grow darker, the waves topple over themselves, and the small ship that is far out to sea is swallowed. Their frozen doom is sealed forever, and my anger rushes away, like the waves.