Henricka didn't know how long she'd been wandering around, but somehow she'd found herself in a very dark and dismal place. It was cold, and eerie, but calming at the same time. She liked cold and dark places after all. She breathed in the dank, mouldy air and didn't really care that the moisture clung to her lungs and it was hard to see. She'd come down to these abandoned dungeons and meditate for hours at a time, days at a time she'd find herself lost in it's labyrinth like mazes and she'd occupy creaking, open cells.
She wondered what it was like to die, and wondered if this was anything like the underworld she'd imagined.
These particular dungeons were very spiritually connected, and famously haunted too.
Her dear brother, Olaf, had told her numerous ghost stories about a woman who would appear in the night, just a little whisp of air that would grow into a woman. She'd ask you to not be afraid, but when you are, her bloodied corpse would fall on top of you and she'd melt away.
They say the previous Queen had died here, executed for cursing the kingdom and attempting to murder her own sister, Anna.
Hetty knew the real reason though. She came down here and knew that it wasn't an execution, but in fact a murder. Kids and teenagers who were foolish enough to come down here and test the myths and theories left horrified and psychologically altered at the horrid sight of it, and she believed it one hundred percent.
But alas, she was disappointed to have never made contact with her. She had come down here to see if she could catch a glimpse of Elsa herself.
She wouldn't be afraid. She was ready. She wanted to see her for herself, and tell her that she knew. Tell her that Anna was still alive, and still loved her. Tell her how much she loves her powers and how she'd make the world see one day that the ice and snow were not bad, and that there was so much beauty in it.
She'd tell Elsa how love was the key to controlling it, and how it wasn't her fault for being in fear her whole life.
She sighed and shook her head, ridding the silly imaginings from her head. So many things she'd say, but not an apparition in sight.
She stopped for the fourth time in front of a door which was locked, unlike the others. She had always wanted to see what lay on the other side. At first she didn't much care for the locked room, or the possible contents of it, but now she was beginning to think...
"Elsa?" a voice that was not her own croaked out.
She yelped and fell back, staring at the door...
XxXxXxX
Kristoff Steadied his breath and inched closer and closer to the mysterious patch of ice that was slowly covering the floor.
For months and months now he'd been haunted by her...Elsa, that is. He tried so hard not to be afraid, like she asked, but it was to no avail. he'd almost become used to seeing her rotted corpse, mingling with his own and melting away. Instead of his initial horror, he was more sad, and sympathetic. He'd cry for hours after she'd melt and meld with the floor.
The frosty layer reached him before he could muster up the courage to approach it any quicker and the bloodied stain of the floor turned a vicious red, glowing in the dark.
From that spot, her spirit rose, but she wasn't white as usual, but a glaring ruby color.
She was emotionless and still and stared at the door, facing away from him.
"Elsa?" He croaked, nervously. this time he had promised himself that he wouldn't be afraid, and that he'd not let her melt into him again.
But she ignored him and stepped forward. A peculiar yelp came from the other side of the door and Elsa quickened her pace. She got to the door and when she tried to pass through it...
The spectre screamed in agony and fell back, colliding with him and melting as usual.
Kristoff looked into those dead eyes and then down at the patch of ice, coming from under the door
"Help...me..." the corpse wheezed, lifting a melting hand, pointing towards the door.
XxXxXxXxX
Hetty was utterly petrified. For a brief moment, she room before her had glowed, from under the door and up at the top where the bars were.
Then a horrid scream, and a garbled, gasp like voice breathed 'Help me' before all the glow had disappeared.
She didn't know what to do, but stand there. Now, she thought, now she KNEW she had to get into that room. If this wasn't a sign from the other word, then she was probably going mad, which she highly doubted.
She took a step forward and then another, staggering towards the door.
"Is someone in there?" she called out quietly.
There was no immediate answer, but she persisted, "Hello? Is anyone there?" She placed a hand to the door, the handle was just to her forehead, due to her height, but she ratted it.
"Y-yes." a male voice stuttered.
But before she could respond, she heard footsteps coming from down the hall to the right, and so she sucked up her ice and ran to the left, hiding in the shadows and watching.
The footsteps sounded angry and loud against the empty walls and they came to a very furious halt, just before the locked door.
Hetty squinted in the shadows and could make out who it was...
"Papa...?" she gasped.
He flicked up some keys from a post near the door and carelessly undid the door, she could make out a crumpled, terrified figure on the other side as he entered before slamming the door shut.
Before she could question her own sanity, she stealthily shuffled over to the door...
She listened...
XxXxXxXxX
"Well, I have to hand it to you," Hans chuckled darkly, "You've managed to keep up pretty well in here for a bleeding, dying thing." He lanced over at the poorly illuminated Kristoff, and the lit the lantern in the far corner.
"Hans." he replied spitting his name out with a venomous tone.
Hans chuckled again and smiled, disbelieving at how lively his little pet could be.
"I hear the servant's tales about this... madness that you've been infected with." He waved his hand casually, stepping closer to him, and looking him over, "Apparently you've been seeing the dead?" he asked with a thick, sarcasm dripping off his voice like the blood that seeped through his body every other night.
"Yeah, and what of it?" Kristoff replied, tightening his arms and legs against his chest, wondering if he was the only one who could see the swirling pools of ice and blood that lay all over the floor.
A sudden whip that he hadn't anticipated cracked across his arms and it came back in the other direction. His arms flew up to protect his eyes, his broken eye still had yet to be treated and it was getting infected too...
Hans flicked his wrist in the other direction again and it came back across his chest.
"What do you think your playing at, mutt?" Hans sneered, kicking him in the guts firmly, Sven boots in tact as usual..
"Trying to get one of them to free you? Asking to be moved to another cell?" He raised his voice, incredulous that this lowly beast of a man could even imagine he was in a position to be requesting things.
"What do you think you are? Royalty? A guest here? You superstitious, boar! I couldn't care less if you were eaten alive by rats in your sleep!" He hollered and cracked his whip against the shivering form, blood freshly staining the front of the tattered undershirt.
"I-I'm not t-trying to-" Kristoff began to explain.
In his madness he had gone over the edge for a while there and had begun screaming and begging and pleading the servants to break him out, so he could escape the haunting, but now he'd become used to them.
"Hah, could have fooled me." Hans muttered.
"I leave you alone in here for only three moths... not even bothering with ripping you apart like I'd love to... a true act of 'humanity' you could say.. heh..." He paced back and forth, twiddling the whip handle within his fingers, "And this is my thanks? Maybe I shouldn't have been so kind to you."
He threw aside the whip and then cracked his knuckles, "Now, let's see that busted eye of yours... hehehehe"
XxXxXxXxX
Hetty shivered and recoiled from the sounds of fists against skin, and screams of torture rang out. She heard her father say things she didn't know he was capable of saying and heard his voice twist and contort like never before.
All her life she had only seen the good in him, but this episode lead her to question if it was even real...how could they be the same person?
She knew not how long she stayed there, but by the time Hans had stepped out of the room, and locked the door behind him, she was extremely horrified and yet relieved. Horrified at the blood that stained his knuckles and clothing, and the satisfied look on his face, and relieved that he didn't seem to notice her thee, cowering on the floor.
He tossed the keys up onto the post, where it was before and then stalked away.
She waited until his footsteps were mere ghosts in the distance... and then let it go.
She wailed and shuddered, frost and icicles of all patterns and size shot out from her small form and she steadied herself against the door, her tears pattering to the ground.
She wailed and wept, and crawled to the centre of the door and pressed her hands against it. She rested her forehead on it and she blubbered out,
"I'm sorry... I'm s-so so s-sorry..." she apologised to the man behind the door. She didn't know who he was or why he was there but she knew that no one deserved that.
"I'm sorry," she repeated, chanting it liked it would somehow make him feel better. She wept and slid down to the floor, burying her head in her arms and shivering.
"It's okay..." he voice responded. She gasped, and sat up, startled by the response.
The voice she heard now was so fragile, and sounded like he was nice enough...
He sounded as though his own pain wasn't even significant, "Please... don't cry. It's not that bad...in here." He tried to soothe her.
She shook her head and retorted, "He...I've never seen him do that before. I...I trusted him so much..." She trailed off, sobbing a little, "I loved him so much... I don't want this to be ...real..."
There was a silence and then finally he spoke again, "Elsa?" he asked.
She sniffled, confused and looked up at the door.
"N-no...?" she replied.
There was another silence and then the voice sounded a little closer, some dragging chains and hisses of pain preceeding his next guess, "a-... Anna?" he asked.
As he said her name, with such tenderness and dorrow, suddenly Hetty remembered something from her mother's tales.
There was a man, an ice harvester who had helped her find Elsa, and who had stolen her heart. Hans had conned her into marriage to gain the throne, and she never saw him again...
"N...No" she whispered, but not to answer his guess. It couldn't be... Anna had told her he was dead.
"Kristoff...?" She whispered.
There was yet another dead, cold silence, and her heartbeat provided the only source of sound, echoing against the walls of this forbidden prison...
"Yes." the voice replied.
XxXxXxXxXxX
The wind was fairly warm, despite the bitter cold that had ravaged their kingdom for the past few days But it was nothing to Anna. Right now everything was cold She touched the picture frame she held in her hands, the one and only portrait Olaf had ever sat still for with her.
It had been done when he was about eight or nine, and he'd snuggled up into her so much that his hair was all astray but it only added to the truly personal feel that the picture held. She traced his face and her fingers trembled, the open window letting in the cold light, and shining over his warm and ever cheerful face.
She choked on a sob and glanced up at the mountains where two of the most important and beautiful men in her life now rested.
Hans had told her, after the funeral what had happened Or what he thought' had happened. She was nursing a new patch of bruises and her scarf only aggravated the contusions around he neck from his furious fit.
The only thing that saved her life was probably Hans' desire not to be tried for murder, and the fact that everyone was already expecing him to do it
Everyone in Arendelle was slowly beginning to see his true nature, and their beloved Queen's continued silence and sorrowful obedience was evident. they hadn't seeen her when she was a chipper young woman, full of life and love and wonder, but they'd at least heard about it. She'd see ex-staff sometimes from the windows and see them enjoying their lives, but some would cast a wary glance towards her prison
The people wanted her to be free.. but no one had any evidence. She was too afraid to speak out. The fact that he'd murdered his own son based on an assumption was enough to say that even if she tried to speak up, she'd be silenced one way or another. He had all the staff on his side since he hired new ones, and he'd been sure to speak to them in his native language, choosing foreigners from his home lands to ensure there were language barriers.
He'd gone such a long way to control her. She was beginning to feel like a pathetic damsel in distress though. Sitting around like a little girl, waiting for some ridiculous prince charming to come and rescue her.
Olaf was gone, so there was no more prince charming. Elsa, Kristoff, even Sven, and then there was her parents not to mention. all she had left was her daughter, who was forced to side with the opposition
But why? Why she asked herself, was she just sitting around and being the good girl she always had to be?
Elsa had the right Idea to run away, from his hell, from this terrible prison. She should have stayed up on the north mountain with her, and Kristoff and they'd hunt for food and live in the ice and snow forever, and to hell with the damned kingdom! they could freeze forever and evolve into yetties for all she cared!
She huffed and sat down her portrait and straightened her back, with a new mindset and a determination like never before
"This ends now." She said.
She turned on her heel and ripped her cloak off it's hook and threw it over her shoulders.
"That perfect girl is GONE!" she hissed.
But as she rounded the corner, she ran into her daughter, white as a ghost, and hair a mess. Her eyes were tear stained and she shuddered, but a smile that defied all the rest of her body was ever so bright and visible on her face.
"That's okay, but I have something you should see first." She whispered.
XxXxXxXxX
"It's okay... I'll be f-fine..." I lied. The man shook his head and forced more of the foul liquid down my throat. It was nice and all, the whole healing thing, but it still was driving me mad.
"Are you s-sure this stuff isn't poisonous?" I wretched as He withdrew the crudely carved spoon.
The round, stone man humphed and furrowed his brows at me, his grassy mane bristling against the ground, "I haven't heard a boy complain as much as you since Bulda's boy!" He retorted.
Bulda? Oh! Yes, I had almost forgotten. After a week of no food, and limited water, I had stumbled upon the lovely troll woman who took me in right away.
It felt like she'd done this before. It didn't surprise me that there might've been other young lost boys before me.
"Now you go on and get to her now, before she throws a fit!" The old troll man wheezed. He wasn't as nice as Pabbie was, but he did the job.
I stood slowly and shuffled over to where I had memorised her step.
The man turned and called back to me before I'd reached the stairs however and called back, "say, what was your name again, kid?"
I rolled my eyes and responded with a smile, "Your memory is shot, old guy! The name, is Olaf..."
I grinned at his insulted face and then scurried up the stairs.