Frostskader
That's "Frostbite" in Norwegian
Disclaimer: I already said no :_(
A/N: So we were playing the Spring Concert last week for band class, and when we got to "Let it Go" in Highlights from Frozen, you could hear everyone whispering in delight, like "Yaaay! Let it Go!" And afterwards, I swear, we had never gotten that much applause from any piece we had ever played before.
That's the power of Frozen, baby.
OVER THIRTY REVEIWS OH MY GOD FANGIRL
If you all think that I'm happy in my cell, then you can all go lick ice.
Honestly, the only thing I even remotely like around here are Elsa's visits. Most of the time the prisons are stifling hot, even if Elsa's ice lingers on the walls. Though I'm pretty much isolated down here, I can hear the prisoners in the upper levels of the dungeons either screaming or hollering obscenities in their rough, grating voices. It makes sleeping a skill that needed to be mastered.
Usually I either sit around bored out of my skull or curled up on my bead trying to sleep. Occasionally I drew, but the parchment was precious to me, and I didn't want to waste it, so I usually ended up rubbing out the charcoal marks, leaving long black streaks on the paper.
The only drawings I spared were the ones of Queen Elsa.
I was also writing a story; slowly, little bits and flashed coming forth from my mind. At first I didn't decide what the story was about- I wrote it down simply for the sake of my own amusement- but it was not until I had written several sheets that the pieces drifted together, and I realized that the story I was writing was about a woman, cold and beautiful and terrible, who held winter in her hands and wielded a heart of ice.
I found it terribly funny, in a morbid sort of way.
I was thinking about this story as I ate dinner the third night from the last of Elsa's visits. The food prepared for the prisoners was usually just all the leftovers shoveled into a pot and boiled into a sort of gruel. Sometimes, if the cook wasn't feeling particularly creative, they just sent down, the leftovers, but that rarely happened.
It looked and tasted like something that came out of a sheep's hind end, but at least it was filling.
I picked up the sheaf of parchment and read the opening line.
Once, not that long ago, there was a queen with a soul of ice and a heart of frozen glass...
I let my laughter fill the cell with the echoes of heartless daydreams.
