The Tides of Destruction

Chapter Twenty-Five

Control

"If you only knew . . ."

Elsa frowned as she pondered Sebastiaan's statement. Something about the way he was looking at her caused her to shudder involuntarily. He stared at her unblinking, unmoving, a slow smile crossing his face.

Swallowing, she did her best to maintain an air of dignity despite the mass of pain within her temples. "I . . . I'm afraid I don't follow, Sebastiaan. If I only knew—"

"Your hand."

Sebastiaan gestured toward Elsa's right hand, his eyes alight with anticipation. "You seem to have an unsteady grip there, Elsa."

Realizing there was no point in denying it, Elsa nodded. "It . . . It happens from time to time." Narrowing her eyes, she returned Sebastiaan's intense gaze. "I thought we were here to discuss the consequences of my men's actions—"

"Please." Sebastiaan rolled his eyes dismissively. "There is no need for that. Those fools are of no consequence. Their actions are an unfortunate diversion, nothing more."

Elsa was now thoroughly confused. "Sebastiaan, I'm afraid you've lost me. I—"

A mirthless laugh erupted from Sebastiaan's throat. "Oh, Elsa," he said, slowly, casually advancing toward her. "You're supposed to be the wise queen of Arendelle. So intelligent . . . So brilliant . . ." He shook his head. "It's going to spoil all the fun if I have to spell everything out for you . . ."

An sense of foreboding fell upon Elsa, Sebastiaan's tone making her increasingly uncomfortable. Instinctively, she glanced down at the Eden-stone on her finger.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Sebastiaan said, gesturing toward the ring. "Your friend cannot help you now, I'm sorry to say. Her intervention will only lead to more . . . unpleasantries . . ."

How does he know about . . .

Elsa's eyes narrowed as she looked at Sebastiaan once more. "Are you threatening me, Sebastiaan? Because I have faced far more intimidating enemies than you, and I have—"

Her words disappeared into her throat as her temples exploded. Stars danced before her eyes as she clenched her fists against her brow, futilely trying to banish the searing pain.

"What's the matter, Elsa?"

Sebastiaan's voice rang in her ears, his tone mocking, dripping with sarcasm. "You don't look well . . ."

"I'm . . . I'm fine." Elsa's words sounded distant to her own ears, as if they were coming from somewhere far in the distance. Panting, she looked at Sebastiaan once more, her eyes growing wide as she realized he looked . . . satisfied? "What are you—"

"No more talking."

Elsa's lips suddenly refused to obey her commands. No matter how hard she fought to move her jaw, no matter how much she fought to force her tongue to do as she desired, her mouth remained shut, her voice silent. Panic mingled with agony as she fell to her knees, rocking back and forth, staring at Sebastiaan in utter confusion.

"That's better." Sebastiaan knelt beside her, his fingers brushing against her chin. On instinct, Elsa slid away, her hands rising, her fingers glowing silver as the cold began to flow through her arms.

"Ah, ah, ah." Glaring at Elsa, Sebastiaan shook his head. "Hands down, Elsa. Now."

Elsa's eyes widened in horror as, against her will, her arms fell to her side, pressed firmly against her body, refusing to obey the orders her mind screamed at them. Unable to speak, unable to move her arms, Elsa looked at Sebastiaan, her eyes darting wildly about.

Sebastiaan let out a long sigh. "You're probably wondering just what the hell is going on, aren't you, Elsa?" He looked at the Queen, a bemused expression gracing his countenance. "Nod, please. It's rude not to respond when someone asks you a question."

Against her will, Elsa felt her head move up and down, nodding as Sebastiaan had ordered.

Sebastiaan walked toward the throne, his hand grazing the smooth wood of the chair. "All the power of a kingdom suddenly placed within these hands," he murmured. He turned back to Elsa. "Who would have thought?"

He smiled as Elsa stared back at him, nearly panicking. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said. "I admit, I have done a terrible job of explaining your current predicament. I had so hoped you would have figured it out. Clearly, you are not as imaginative as I had been led to believe . . ."

Sitting upon the throne, Sebastiaan crossed his feet nonchalantly. "Think, Elsa. Think back six months ago, to when you were here last."

Elsa shook her head in despair, unsure of what Sebastiaan was driving toward, her lips continuing to obstinately refuse to function.

"You may speak," Sebastiaan stated flatly.

Elsa felt her tongue suddenly move about within her mouth once more. Slowly, her voice cracking painfully, she deliberately formed the question at the forefront of her mind: "What . . . What are you talking . . . about? How are you—"

"That's enough," Sebastiaan said, holding up his hand. Immediately, Elsa's mouth became unresponsive once more.

Sebastiaan nodded in approval. "Still you don't understand," he whispered to himself. Raising his voice, he stood once more. "Think, Elsa. Think to the night of my father's funeral. Remember what you and Alwin did that evening . . ."

"How are you feeling?"

Alwin looked at Elsa, unsure of how to respond to her question, as they sat alone in the main dining hall. The rest of the dignitaries who had arrived to pay their respects had departed for the night, as had most of the servants. The newly-crowned King and the Queen of Arendelle were seated near each other, plates of barely-touched food resting before them.

Inhaling deeply, Alwin stroked his chin. "I . . . I don't know, Elsa," he confessed. "I . . . I always knew this day would come . . . That it had to come. I thought when it did, I would feel prepared. Confident, even. But now, I feel . . . I feel . . ."

Elsa rested her fingers upon his hand, noticing how Alwin did not recoil instinctively at her cool touch. "You feel unworthy," she said softly. "Like you don't deserve to be King. You're questioning yourself, wondering if this isn't just some terrible misunderstanding . . ."

Alwin nodded slowly as Elsa's words seeped into his ears. "That's right," he murmured. Looking Elsa in the eye, he shook his head. "How did you . . . I mean, you were so young when you . . . And you had . . . You were—"

"It wasn't easy," Elsa admitted. "I made mistakes. So many mistakes. But I learned from them, Alwin. I was fortunate to have Anna with me. She helped me through so much." She smiled. "Just think how lucky you are, Alwin. You have so many more siblings to give you strength . . ."

Alwin laughed once. "I know," he said. "Sebastiaan, especially. I . . . I don't know what I would do without him. He has done so much for me without ever asking for anything—"

"And don't you forget it!"

Elsa and Alwin turned to see Sebastiaan enter the room, a freshly-opened bottle of wine in his hand. Alwin rose immediately, embracing his brother in a tight hug.

"I meant what I said," he said softly. "Thank you, brother, for everything . . ."

Sebastiaan shifted uncomfortably in his brother's embrace. "Alwin, this wine is three hundred years old. I don't think you want it decorating the floor, do you?"

Alwin smiled as he released Sebastiaan from his grasp. "Good point," he said. Turning back to Elsa, he took the bottle of wine from Sebastiaan's hand, pouring it into three glasses. "After today, I think the three of us could each use a drink."

Elsa took the glass of wine from Alwin, raising it to her lips, Alwin and Sebastiaan doing the same.

"To family," Alwin said. "To friends . . ." He looked Elsa in the eye. "And to new beginnings . . ."

The Queen of Arendelle felt a feeling of soothing warmness flow through her as she swallowed the wine. Sliding her glass toward Alwin, she raised an eyebrow. "I could use another, if no one objects."

Alwin and Sebastiaan looked at each other before bursting out into laughter. Taking Elsa's glass, Alwin filled it once more. "Take it easy, Elsa," he said. "It's three hundred years old, after all."

Elsa rolled her eyes as she took her glass back from Alwin. "I'm not the one whose face is as red as a strawberry," she countered. "Unlike some people, I know how to hold my liquor."

Alwin shook his head, tears of laughter streaming down his cheeks. "Oh, what the hell," he said, pouring himself another glass as well. Looking into his glass, he glanced back up at the Queen seated next to him. "You're . . . You're a good friend, Elsa," he confessed, the wine having loosened him up considerably. "Thank you . . . Thank you for everything . . ."

Sebastiaan walked slowly around Elsa, his eyes never leaving the Queen's form. "I still can't believe you would be so careless as to drink from a bottle that was already open. You must have been having an off day, having spent all your time consoling my dearly-departed brother." He stroked his chin once more. "Nevertheless, the moment you drank that wine, I had you."

Elsa's eyes were even wider than before, her face pale, her brow furrowed in confusion.

"Go ahead," Sebastiaan said. "Ask your question."

Able to speak once more, Elsa looked at Sebastiaan in horror. "What . . . What did you do to me?" she whispered. "What did you do . . . to Alwin?!"

"That's cheating," Sebastiaan said, waving a finger at Elsa. "Two questions at once." Inhaling, he thrust his hands into his pocket. "In response to your second question, I eliminated a problem that never should have been permitted to exist in the first place. As wonderful a human being as my brother was, he was simply dreadful as a ruler." He shook his head. "Even that idiot priest Francis would have done a better job. So, I did what any good ruler must do when presented with a problem: I did what had to be done for the good of the kingdom."

"You . . . You killed him?!" Elsa fought to move her arms, to stand. "You did this—"

Sebastiaan was kneeling before her in an instant, his hands on her shoulder. "You have no idea what I am capable of, Elsa," he hissed. "What I have been through . . . The things I have seen . . ."

Regaining his composure, Sebastiaan released his grip on Elsa's shoulder. "Now, in response to your first question, I simply used an ancient technique of my people to take advantage of a weakness of yours . . ."

"'Your people'?" Elsa responded. "None of this makes any sense—"

"The død frukt," Sebastiaan stated. "A most peculiar little plant, found only in certain . . . unusual locations upon that Continent you call home. Harmless to ordinary Men, you see. However, when properly prepared . . . When given to one who carries winter within them . . . When given to an ice bærer, it immediately bonds with that cold place within the very center of their being, entwining with it, becoming one with that unfortunate fool, waiting in the shadows for the one who administered it to decide to employ its . . . unique properties. And once he does, that poor bastard is rendered incapable of functioning, much less living, without the express consent of the one who poisoned him."

Elsa's eye twitched as she realized just what Sebastiaan was saying. "You . . . You poisoned me?!" Her brow furrowed as doubt rang through her mind. "You're lying," she whispered. "This can't be true! It's impossible—"

"Then prove me wrong," Sebastiaan said. He looked to the door on the far wall. "If you don't need my permission, then stand up and walk out that door. I won't try to stop you."

Elsa looked to the door, then back to Sebastiaan. Straining with all her might, she fought to move her arms, to push herself back to her feet, to prove him wrong. But her arms would not listen to her instructions. Her muscles exhausted from her straining, the Queen of Arendelle fell backward, her back hitting the floor, her body betraying her.

Sebastiaan laughed as he towered over her. "Well, then. I suppose you have your answer."

Elsa shook her head over and over again, her eyes staring at the ceiling far above. "You can't do this," she whispered. "I won't be your slave! I am in control of me! Not you! Not—"

"No more sound," Sebastiaan said. "But perhaps . . ."

Had she been able to speak, Elsa would have screamed louder than she had ever screamed before. Pain unlike any she had ever experienced tore through her body. Her torso felt as though a hot knife was slicing it in half, while her limbs twitched and flailed, her nerves experiencing all degrees of hot and cold simultaneously. Her head felt as though it was about to explode from the pressure. Unable to stand, unable to escape, Elsa lay on the floor in silent agony until—

The pain was gone almost as soon as it had begun. Her face glistening with perspiration, Elsa lay upon the floor, unmoving, her breathing ragged, uneven.

Sebastiaan appeared unperturbed by the suffering he had just witnessed. "This pain you've been experiencing recently, Elsa," he said, walking in a circle around the fallen Queen, studying her, like an animal in a cage. "On and off again, always coming and going unpredictably . . . All of that has been me. I've been testing you. Studying you. Even when you were in Arendelle, I was still able to exert my control. And now . . . Now you are finally ready . . ."

Elsa looked at him through half-opened eyes, barely able to focus.

"Tell me," Sebastiaan said. "Did you enjoy your little excursion last night? I know you claim not to remember, but I think, deep down inside yourself, you know the truth." He cocked his head. "You may whisper . . ."

What . . . is he talking about? she thought to herself as she struggled to remain conscious. Last night? I . . . I . . . Oh, God! Please, no!

"It's . . . It's not true," she whispered. "It can't be! I couldn't have . . . I—"

A gleeful grin fell upon Sebastiaan's countenance. "Oh, how I wish I could have been there to see the look on dear Alwin's face!" he cackled. "He must have been so happy to see you in his chambers so late in the evening. I can just picture it now: Happiness turning to abject terror as you summoned that ice dagger. As you caught him by surprise. As you drove it through his heart . . ."

Unable to deny it any longer, Elsa closed her eyes. "You . . . You used me to murder your own brother?" she whispered. "You didn't have the courage to do it yourself, so you picked me? Why—"

Sebastiaan knelt beside her, cradling her head in his hand. "Oh, Elsa," he said. "Part of me wants so much to tell you everything right now. To explain it all away so you can see just how cruelly I've planned all of this." He looked to the nearby window. "But I'm having so much fun watching you struggle to grasp all of this. I think I'll save the really good revelations for later . . ."

He turned away, moving back toward the throne. "You may move your arms," he said. "You may even stand. But don't think about trying to go anywhere—"

That small piece of freedom was all Elsa needed. Her arms finally free, Elsa pulled herself to her feet, extending her arms, summoning the coldness from deep within herself, sending an explosion of ice and snow toward the throne.

Her lip trembled despite herself as she saw Sebastiaan walk slowly toward her once more, his body unharmed by her desperate attack. This . . . This can't be! He can't be uninjured! Before she could summon her power once more, she felt the agony consume her again, tearing her apart.

"Silence," Sebastiaan commaned, stopping Elsa from screaming before she could even begin. Wordlessly, he watched as the Queen before him flailed about in silent suffering, unable to defend herself from the invisible foe assailing her.

Releasing her from her suffering, Sebastiaan moved behind Elsa, grabbing hold of her long braid, pulling her head back. "That was not an intelligent decision, Elsa," he hissed. "You may whisper."

Elsa broke free from Sebastiaan's grasp, her eyes filled with anger. "You can't control me like this," she whispered. "I'll fight it. You won't be able to use me to hurt anyone again."

Sebastiaan yawned deliberately. "Please do. You've done such a fantastic job of resisting so far, I can't wait to see what it looks like when you actually apply yourself."

"Who are you?" Elsa's voice was barely audible, her eyes wide with fear. "How did you survive—"

"Like I said," Sebastiaan interrupted. "I want to savor this for as long as I possibly can. In the meantime, you will be a good girl and do as I say. I have so much planned for you, Elsa." He laughed once to himself. "It most certainly does seem to be true: Revenge is definitely a dish best served ice cold . . ."

Revenge? Revenge . . . for what?!

"Now," Sebastiaan said, rubbing his hands. "You're going to go into the corridor and confess to everyone—Philomena, my brothers, and especially that irritating sister of yours—that you murdered the King. I cannot wait to see the looks on their faces—"

"No."

Elsa looked Sebastiaan in the eye, her face betraying the strain required to speak louder than a whisper as she fought against his control over her. "I won't! You . . . can't . . . make . . . me . . ."

"I thought you would say that," Sebastiaan said. Sighing, he moved behind the throne room, retrieving a bundle placed behind it. "Perhaps this will change your mind . . ."

Opening the bundle, Sebastiaan raised an eyebrow. "You wouldn't happen to recognize this, would you?"

Elsa's heart nearly stopped beating as she beheld the object before her. Her trembling hand reached out and touched it, running her hand over the familiar fabric. "Maíreweth . . ." Her fingers flew to her lips as she beheld the large patch of blood staining the garment. "Oh, God . . ."

Sometimes coincidence can be your ally, Sebastiaan thought as he watched Elsa's horrified reaction. One of his guards had brought him the dress early that morning, having found it on patrol along the beach. And now . . .

The next thing he knew, Elsa's hands were wrapped around his throat, her fingers frigid, digging into his flesh as she caught him by surprise. His own hands quickly moved toward Elsa's shoulders, desperately trying to push her away, his face filled with concentration as he unleashed a fresh wave of unbearable agony upon the Queen.

"Silence!" he gasped. "Silence!"

Elsa fought through the pain, wanting nothing more than to see Sebastiaan suffer for what he had done to her, to her daughter, but the pain soon was more than she could bear. Falling to her knees, she lost her grip on Sebastiaan's throat, her exhausted body writhing soundlessly as the invisible knife went to work upon her flesh.

Sebastiaan stared angrily upon her, his confident demeanor nowhere to be found. "Do not try that again, Elsa," he whispered, delivering a sharp kick to Elsa's ribcage. "Ever!"

Taking a deep breath, he calmed himself. "Now. As for your daughter, my men have her in the dungeon. She has been only mildly injured; she would not let them take her without a fight." The lies glided effortlessly from his tongue. "No further harm will come to her as long as you do as I command. If, however, you continue this futile resistance of yours, I will be forced to take drastic measures against her." Pausing, he ran his hand through his hair. "You may speak. Quietly . . ."

Elsa looked up at Sebastiaan, her blonde hair now matted to the sweat on her brow. "Please," she whispered. "Please, let me see her. She can't see . . . She doesn't know where she is. She must be so scared. Please, let me see her. Just for a moment . . ."

Sebastiaan shook his head. "I am afraid that is impossible, Elsa," he said. "After what you just did, I have very little trust in you. If you want to see your daughter again, you will have to do exactly what I say."

Realizing she had no choice, Elsa nodded slowly. "What . . . What do you need me to do?"

"Like I said," Sebastiaan said. "Stand up. Pull yourself together. And go through those doors and tell everyone just what you have done."

Unwilling to fight any longer, her body reacting of its own accord, Elsa stood, her hands smoothing out her dress, fixing her hair as best she could. As if watching herself in a dream—a nightmare—Elsa walked to the door, her hand resting upon the heavy doorknob. What am I going to do? What am I going to do?

AN: More to come!