"I brought you some decent food." he hears a disembodied yet smooth voice and lifts his gaze over to look at her.

He perfectly knows whose voice it is.

"You didn't have to, Queen Elsa." he politely declines, but reconsiders his answer when he notices the disappointed look that creeps on her face. "Thank you."

She slowly approaches him, holding out the tray for him to take it, and so he does. She folds her hands behind her back as he begins to eat, standing straight like the young Queen she is.

The proud Queentheywant her to be. he corrects his own mind, seeing clearly what emotions lay behind the ice sculpture she could be compared to.

He can still see the broken woman who had to run away from her own kingdom on her coronation day. The one who has lived apart from the outside world her whole life but who yet knows so much about it. It feels kinda odd. Odd to know that somebody who's remained locked up for years understands the real world better than you do, when you are the one who has lived in it from the day of your birth. Odd to know that, after all, being torn apart of your loved ones because you've been cursed by nobody-knows-who is part of this real world.

He can feel her gaze on him while he finishes eating the local food he couldn't put a name on, it makes him uneasy. He takes a sip of his glass of fresh water before entirely drinking it. Clumsily, he hands her the tray back, failing dropping the goblet onto the ground. An awkward silence takes its place between them, and it appears to feel somehow strange for him, albeit he knows he has nothing to do with her, because she's a regnant Queen, and what is he more than a traitor imprisoned in her own kingdom ? Everybody knows he's a defeated prince who's almost murdered the Snow Queen altogether. And her sister. But yet why can't he pull her away from his mind ? Why is she always torturing him inside ? Her perfect face, her body, her lips that undeniably seem to be so tender, and her beauty !

Thisis worse than torture itself... he frowns, desperately trying to erase his forever inappropriate notions, his darkest thoughts and desire, still about the same woman whom he cannot bring himself to cease thinking of.

He decides to break the silence instead.

"Why Sunflower ?" he blurts out, glancing up into her sapphire eyes.

"Pardon me ?"

She spares him a confused look, tightening her grip on the tray she's almost forgotten she is still holding. Now, she looks even more beautif—

No.

"Your horse." he continues, shaking his head slightly to chase away the thought. "Why did you call her that ?" he corrects, coming to his feet to stand in front of her, arms crossed over his chest.

A sigh escapes her lips, her boredom clearly noticeable.

"She's named after my cousin." she states flatly, staring into the full emptiness of the room, just as she' accustomed to.

"Oh. that's kind of a strange name..." he wonders, thinking out loud and frowning slightly. "Did her parents truly call—" he begins innocently before the ice cold voice of the Queen cuts him off, leaving a small cloud in front of her mouth due to the coldness that's emanating from her, filling the cell.

"No, of course not, but it's still related to her. And that closes the subject, I don't believe there's anything more you need to be aware of." she answers dryly, eyes still locked with his.

He takes a step back, wondering what's making her this upset, but still he doesn't understand at all.

You know nothing about her, silly ! he scolds himself, lifting his hands up in front of his face.

"Um, okay, that's fine..." he stutters, trying to find proper words to say not to be the one to be at a loss for words.

Truth is that there's nothing to say. What are they but strangers whose destiny once crossed eachother's ? None of them knows whether their ways will separate soon or remain related forever. Fate will be the only one to tell them.

She doesn't respond. But he can swear he's caught sight of a tear dropping from her eye and rolling down her cheek.

They're not close - both physically and emotionally - enough for him to ask what's bothering her. She might be facing some troubles with her personal life, perhaps with Anna, or with her Queenly stuff. Or maybe it was about that mysterious cousin of her. Albeit he's internally burning of desire to question her about it, he feels like not mentioning it would be wiser. It would be just wise.

He would've never thought her life could interest him so much one day. Now, however, it seems so obvious that something's playing on her mind that his envy to know about it is becoming uncontrollable. And he's going to find out. He's determined to find out, even it this decision reached an incredibly high level of stupidity. It is, because he perfectly knows how she might react to that. She will shove him away, exasperated, pin him against the wall, kiss him passionate—NO, yell at him not to put his nose in her stuff, because it's none of his concern - and it would be no matter of ending up his nose buried into a thick layer of snow this time❄ - and she might also freeze him to death - if she's really angry - and why not put him as a welcoming statue and an advertisement to traitors in the palace courtyard ? Okay, maybe not. She's not that cold hearted, she wouldn't go this far, would she ?

She wouldn't. he tries to persuade himself that, no, she isn't that cold hearted.

His gaze slowly drops to look at her jawline, her neck - perfect -, her throat, her—a place that's not proper for his eyes - nor is it for anyone else's - to stare at. Fortunately for his own safety, she doesn't notice. At least he believes so. Then his gaze falls upon her left hand, where proudly lies - he gasps - an engagement ring he hadn't noticed was there yet.

Engaged ? To whom ?

A flurry of questions invades his mind and it sorta cuts him away from the outside world for a while. His head's underwater and his soul starts to drown as the poisoning reality weights far too heavy for him to support.

Engaged ?!

And it shouldn't bother him. At all. Yet it does.

"Hey !" she snaps her fingers a few centimeters away from his face, pulling him back to the place where he currently is, and he hasn't even noticed she had come so close. "When will you learn to listen to the few people who actually accept to talk with you ?" he voice rings in his ears like the bells of the chapel he used to go on every Sunday.

Threatening.

You'll end up in hell if you don't believe God always keeps a watchful eye on you, my dear. his mother's smooth voice used to say to dissuade him from avoiding mass. And the bells sang the same lyrics, the same threatening words everybody used to throw at him.

But her voice is melodious, whatever she says and no matter how she does say it, unlike his mother's.

"I..." he carefully searches for words, again, but it seems she's not agreeing with him to let him do so.

"What's that face ?" she playfully asks, stifling a giggle and blurting out the words like it's food that's no more consumable while he's so badly looking for what he could reply to her first question he doesn't want to leave unanswered.

"Uh, what face, that face ? It's hum... the one I always wear, I mean, it's... my face" he answers, slightly confused, irritated but stuttering, as always.

He can feel the heat coming up to his freckled cheeks, and yeah, it's embarrassing.

"Well then," she begins, a smirk he thought was his creeping on her lips. "Change it, honestly. It's frightening, and I'm serious, wearing a face like yours shouldn't be allowed." she snaps, her bright mesmerizing eyes staring right into his, still smirking deviously.

Yes, she looks content of herself.

"Well, go tell this to my parents." he snaps back, proud of him for defying what was the initial goal to her reply - having the last word of their argument, of course -, but internally deciding that he won't go further with this conversation.

Instead, he thinks it's better to just take his courage in both hands and jump.

"You're engaged."

Her hypnotizing eyes widen at those words he believe she didn't contemplate he would be saying. He has noticed.

Crap.

It's just like she doesn't dare sparing a glance at her hand, like she simply fears breaking eye contact with him. Perhaps she thinks he'll jump on her if she deosn't look at him directly in the eyes. What more than a threat to anything that has ever moved has he always been ?

It's not natural, the way her wide blue eyes stare, her lips slightly parted, like she was about to burst into tears. It's a mix of pain and... something like deep sadness. It's odd, someone who's just engaged should be happy. Like Anna. She should be gullible, giggling all day for everything and nothing, but no. She's nothing similar to this.

In a second, and he doesn't know how long she's been staring, she straightens herself and clears her throat.

"Yes, I am."

The answer comes as simply as his statement has.

"To whom ?"

He spoke too fast, it almost feels desperate.

"That's none of your concern" she spits yet remains clam, narrowing her eyes at him, and it hits him like pure venom.

Here comes this answer, the eternal perfect 'avoiding thing'. Of course it's none of his concern. And she clearly looks like a snake when she's like this, on the defensive. He isn't surprised no to have received any name. He shouldn't even have asked. But he will find out. Because she's not happy. And he wants to see her happy even if he's never done anything to help, because he has never been, and he doesn't want her to live the same life the both of them have lived forever.

Here comes the incredibly high-leveled stupid decision. He still doesn't understand himself.

"Whom are you getting married to ?" he repeats, louder this time as he steps closer to end up mere centimeters away from her tiny body.

"Prince Naavi from Iolin." she finally answers after a few seconds of deep silence.
He frowns. She smirks, yes, but it still feels strange. It's fake, it's not something to laugh about.

"Iolin," he scoffs, feeling something deep inside he couldn't describe. "What's even that ?" he groans, and he didn't expect her to hear it.

"Oh, would you happen to be jealous ?" she playfully inquires, wearing a victorious grin upon her features.

Yet it hides so much pain beneath.

Perhaps it is this, jealousy. He's never felt anything like this before.

"Jealous of a stranger, for a stranger. How ironic." she teases again and it only makes his frown deepen.

Yes, he is, and what ?

"And by the way, Iolin is a small kingdom, really beautiful and warm, far south west." she declares as her back hits the wall.

"Well then..." he begins, mysterious. "There's something I need to do before you get married to this Prince Naavi." he states, taking a last step forward and pinning her forcefully against the wall behind her, his hands wrapped around her wrists.

Without giving her some time to protest, he leans in and crushes his lips on hers, kissing her fiercely, hungrily like a savage beast savouring its prey. When she gasps in surprise and tries to catch her breath, he slips his tongue into her mouth, pressing his muscular body further against her.

The taste... he focuses on her, wondering how he's managed to hold back the urge to do this for such a long time.

He had to remind himself to let go of her when he was full of her scent, of the taste of her whole mouth, her lips, her tongue, and when he notices that the both of them are completely out of breath.

Now she's staring at him, her eyes filled with icy tears reflecting her incomprehension. She might also have noticed the lust in his gaze, slowly replaced by sudden realization.

Slowly shaking her head, she narrows her eyes at him and runs past him, forgetting to close the wooden door behind.

He stands still, letting his darkest and most lustful desires overwhelm him, knowing that those are meant never to be fulfilled