Chapter 3:
Conceal, Don't feel
A lone figure stood gazing out the window at the masses of people milling about in the walkway to the castle. It seemed almost unfathomable that so many other humans could exist in the world, even though it was only the local townspeople and visiting dignitaries. And today, every eye would rest on her: scrutinizing, evaluating, prying.
From the top of her perfectly coiffed pale-blond hair to the end of the trailing magenta cape, Elsa knew she was dressed impeccably. On the outside, she appeared to be everything a royal should be: poised, regal, and impassive. If only it were as easy to replicate that image inwardly.
Elsa took a deep breath, closing her blue eyes. Conceal it, don't feel it. Don't let it show.
Slowly, she pushed the budding panic and turmoil to a far corner of her mind. Her face would need to be a pleasant mask for the entirety of her coronation and the resulting festivities. Every movement, every expression, would be analyzed and used to judge the new ruler. How had her parents endured day after day, year after year of putting their best faces forward to the public?
They didn't have a deadly secret to hide, whispered the traitorous part of her mind that kept her ever fearful and tormented her with nightmares.
Turning away from the window in an effort to send her thoughts down a more pleasant path, Elsa found herself studying the painting of her father's coronation. He had stood firm, resolute—brave in the face of an inescapable life. After that moment, he was no prince. He was King Agdar, responsible for the people and land of Arendelle. Could she do the same? Did she have the strength to assume that responsibility? Even if she didn't have the courage, the willpower, the fortitude needed to rule, she had no choice.
The painting reminded her of her duty to the kingdom—and to Anna. She could never force the restrictions and responsibility of the ruling monarch's role onto her impulsive and carefree sister. She would become queen and take the duties that came with that position; if not for Anna, then because that was what was expected of her. She was the Crown Princess, and always had been. It defined her life—what she learned, how she acted, and who she would become. It didn't matter what she thought or felt, only if she did what she was supposed to like a good girl.
Before her thoughts turned fully to bitterness, Elsa focused on the beloved face of her father. He had believed she could do it—so she would. "I won't let you down," she whispered, praying the words would somehow reach the realm of departed souls.
She picked up the decorated wooden sphere and candlestick placed beneath the painting, imitations of the golden orb and scepter used in the coronation ceremony. Assuming the position she would need to hold for the duration of the consecrating prayer, Elsa turned around to face the imaginary audience. She knew the motions by heart after physically and mentally rehearsing them so much, but it wasn't the protocol of the ceremony that worried her.
Elsa's gaze passed back and forth between the artifact replicas in her hands, and at the frost now enveloping them. Her father had tried so hard to ensure that no one knew about her powers; even Anna was unaware of them. If the magic was revealed, the whole world would know about her powers—and fear them. She quickly put the objects down, repressing a shudder of horror.
"It's only for today. You can do this." The words sounded hollow, even to her own ears, but nonetheless they provided some illusion of comfort. Elsa slipped on her dress-corresponding teal gloves, protecting others from her magic. She would need to make her royal appearance soon. The anticipation was agony; perhaps it would be best to get some of the torment over with as quickly as possible.
Elsa deliberately opened the doors that linked her study to the rest of the castle. Lines of waiting servants respectfully lined the walls of the corridor; they had been temporarily hired for the coronation and the traditional ball that would follow. Without even sparing a glance for the servants, she ordered, "Tell the guards to open up the gate." Elsa slowly walked down the hall toward some glass doors, her spine straight and head up. Without pausing to loosen the knot in her stomach, she opened the doors and stepped out onto the balcony—directly into the gaze of everyone in the crowded courtyard below.
Hundreds of eyes fixed on Elsa, their curious stares almost palpable, but at this distance she was no more than a fancily dressed figure. Looking up beyond the crush of people, Elsa prayed for the strength and resilience to carry out the coronation ceremony. After remaining long enough to fulfill the requirements of the royal appearance, she quickly turned around and went inside, closing the doors behind her. The appearance was done, but Elsa's worry mounted with each passing second. The ceremony was looming over her thoughts, the ceremony that was mere minutes away! She leaned against a wall and slowly slid down to the floor, pulling up her knees and resting her forehead on her arms. Tears of terror and anxiety welled up in her eyes.
Elsa held the moisture firmly in check. She didn't have time for a good cry right now, and it would look ridiculous to show up with red and puffy eyes. The foreign dignitaries would no doubt be reporting back, and she knew other countries might be eager to exploit a weak ruler. Likewise, if her powers spilled out in the ceremony, she could be positive that half the world would know about it within a few weeks.
Shaking her mind from that grim line of thought, Elsa realized that the coronation would be starting soon. She needed to head to the castle cathedral immediately or she would be late. Elsa lifted her head, breathing in deeply as she did so. Composing her face into a calm and neutral mask, she rose to her feet. She refused to let her father down because she couldn't control her fear. "Remember," she reminded herself, "Conceal it, don't feel it. Don't let it show." Elsa straightened her spine and began walking to the cathedral.