Neither Alexander nor Elsa spoke for a while, each lost in thought, only the sound of Fjørå's footsteps in the snow. But they were both thinking about Elsa's snowflake. For Elsa, she have never experienced feelings like these. She had read about physical attraction; but the experience was quiet different, and she had neither mother nor sister to guide her. For Alexander, the more time he spent with her, the more his affection for her deepened: the way she turned back towards him and caught his eye with a shy smile; the way a shiver would run through her body when he touched her; the way she shifted in the saddle when he adjusted his touch on her bodice. She was enchanting.
As Fjørå walked on, Alexander's hands were always in gentle contact with Elsa. He was entirely respectful, and approached her very chivalrously, but approach her he did. With one hand still on her waist, he lifted the other hand to loop a golden whorl around his finger. He brought the whorl to his lips, and kissed it. Elsa found the sensation curious; how could anyone take such interest in her hair? She felt her heart flutter a couple of times when he kissed a whorl too close to her neck, and she could feel his hot breath. Was this too far? She felt a tension inside her bloom.
"Elsa, there is nothing to fear from touch," he said. "It is how our creator made us. It is part of being human," he said. He let his fingertips trace down her gloved arm, but she couldn't keep herself steady. "My lady, however you feel does no discredit to you. Touch is the most intimate of sensations; and whether we know it or not, we need the touch of others."
Elsa did not say anything. But she did extend her right arm. He ran his fingers down her arm, and she immediately flinched. He chuckled. "My lady, I like that you are sensitive. You know, when we were little, you never used to shy away from touch. You were actually quite a cuddle-monkey. I distinctly remember you always reaching for your mama, and your mother holding you in her arms."
"Alexander," said Elsa. "That was a long time ago. I was different then."
"You have changed, but I do not believe you have forgotten who you are. And in the past year, I have seen Anna throw herself into your arms countless times." Alexander stroked down her gloved arm again. This time, she did not flinch.
"This is different too," she said, her breath faltering a little, and trying to maintain her composure.
Elsa liked the feeling of him behind her, and of his touch, but she wasn't sure she should. She was becoming aware of her desire. She squeezed the pommels of the saddle between her legs and shifted a little, which alleviated the tension only a little before it came surging back.
Alexander stifled a chuckle so as not to embarrass her. He was aware that it was different for her, and guessed what she was thinking and feeling, and so he restrained himself. He never broke contact with her; but he sat a little straighter. "Elsa," he whispered, "nothing you feel here is wrong. You cannot do anything to make me turn away from you. You are safe, here with me, in your forest."
They arrived at the lake—the lake where they had first kissed after the Winter Ball. As Fjørå walked by the bush of blue roses, Alexander pointed to them, and Elsa smiled in embarrassed delight. A little farther along, Elsa asked Fjørå to halt, and Alexander dismounted. He stroked Fjørå's side—she didn't whip him with her tail this time—and looked up at the woman perched atop the horse. There was something about how Elsa sat, something about the way she carried herself. Her bearing was graceful, dignified. It was just the way her body naturally moved.
Alexander reached up to help her dismount. She lifted her right leg over the pommel, and Alexander was struck by how bewitching she appeared. As she slid from the saddle, he put his hands to the sides of her corset, and held her aloft—suspending her in midair, both of them holding their breaths, just for a moment. In that moment, she looked in his eyes; and she did not see a boy or a councillor. She saw a man who desired her as a woman. A man who wanted to know all of her. A man whose had given his heart to her—just for the possibility of mutual understanding; just for the chance she might accept him.
She felt herself a chaos of butterflies and tinglings. And at that moment, as he held her aloft, she felt arise in her heart an unforeseen wish: she didn't want this moment to end. The sentiment surprised her, but in no more than a moment, it was over. He set her down lightly, her train and cape cascading behind her.
She had put her arms on his broad shoulders for balance; his hands were still on her waist. The way his arms were around her—she had seen her father put his hands around her mother's waist that way; and she had seen Kristoff do the same with Anna. She felt a tautness inside her swell. That made her intensely shy.
She stepped back a little, putting distance between them; out of his embrace but still within arm's reach; close, but not touching. Not once did they cease to gaze at one another.
"Thank you for—," she said, but paused. She immediately missed the warmth of his embrace. "I mean," she stammered, "for helping me dismount." She looked down, her mind racing to figure out what to say next.
She could feel the colour rising to her cheeks. "Alexander," she said. "Why are you like this?"
"Like what?" he said.
"Attentive to me," she said. "And tender. I have known you for so long, and yet I feel you are so different now. Who would have thought you are the same as that boy who would play Hide-and-Seek with me, all those years ago."
"Elsa," he said, "it is not because of your intellect or beauty."
Elsa lowered her eyes as she tried to make sense of his words. "Alexander, I—I don't know what to—" she stammered.
"I miss the girl who would play Hide-and-Seek with me," said Alexander. I miss her terribly. I don't mean to play children's games. I mean, I miss my friend. And I want to know the woman she has become."
Elsa did not know what to say. Her mind was still swirling around his not being attentive to her because of her intellect and beauty. On the one hand, it was not clear to her why she would be notable for her intellect and beauty. But on the other hand, if it were notable enough to be—well, noted—wait, what?
"Elsa, it is not easy to be direct with you. You are magnif—" and he stopped short, his breath leaving him. He looked down. "Elsa, you mean so much that—," he stopped again. "I desire—"
"Alexander," said Elsa. "I don't want to be magnificent. That belongs to our creator. I just want to be me."
He took a deep breath. "The truth of the matter is, I have felt close to you for a long time. We spent much time together as children. We both lost our parents. We both approach the world with a natural reserve. We both think principle and reason and compassion should guide us." Then he paused and added more quietly, "We both know what you suffered in your isolation is unfair."
"It was not unfair," said Elsa. "It was necessary."
"What is necessary can also be unfair," said Alexander. "You lost your parents. Anna lost a sister. And I lost my friend. But Anna found her sister again, and she loves her dearly."
"And you?" asked Elsa.
"I want my friend back, Elsa," said Alexander. "And I shall go to the ends of the earth to find her again."
"Well!" said Elsa, and then had nothing more to say. To her mind, he thought he adored her, and he would not allow her to say anything against that. But there was truth in what he said as well. He had lost his parents. He did see the world similarly to her. And she was very conscious of his loyalty to her.
"I know you think that you have to master yourself every second of every day; that it seems curious to you that anyone would look at you with admiration," he said. "But my lady, I intend to win your heart—if you will give me the chance—however and entirely as you would wish it."
Elsa looked back at him. Once again, she did not know how to respond. But what she felt in her heart was a different matter. She had, since he had declared his love to her after the Winter Ball, been circumspect: it's not that she was beautiful, it's that he thought she was beautiful; it's not that she was intelligent, it's that he thought she was intelligent. And somehow, some way, he thought he was in love with her. But a human only has so much resilience in the face of such adoration. And as time passed, Elsa felt her resilience, her resolve weakening.
Why? Because she respected him, and found her attraction to him was blooming. And this left her with a terrible contradiction. She could neither accept what he was saying as true, nor reject his opinion as false. Elsa was tired of being vigilant. She was tired of deflecting and recasting in her mind what he, for reasons she could not understand, believed.
She became aware him gazing at her, and saw in his eyes, what? It was his longing. This was what it felt like to be adored—by a man, as a woman. She wanted to reach out and feel his embrace again, but she hesitated. She was unsure of what to do, of how she should be feeling. She nervously rested her gloved hand on his chest; and as he breathed in, she felt his chest rise, his scent, his strength. It was too much. Her magic spiked.
She pushed away from his embrace, and stepped out onto the frozen lake. A few strokes later, she had skated to the middle of the lake and spun to a stop. She picked up her skirts, twisted a little, and stomped with her right foot. Hard.
Ice pellets leapt into the air and spiralled around Elsa, thick and fast. She spread her arms, palms up, and they started to glow, blue and white and silver. The wind picked up and she moved in a large circle, laughing and twirling, dancing in time to the pulse of her magic. As she danced, a cluster of ice pellets started to form at the far edge of the lake. Their numbers grew, accumulating like a tiny mountain amongst the trees, until they all suddenly broke free all at once. The pellets rushed forward, flowing past and around her as they gushed and swirled—a river of ice flowing down from a little mountain. She never stopped moving, turning and twisting amidst the current she had created.
Elsa lifted her hands up, so that the ice pellets paused for a second. In all the trees surrounding the lake, ice crystals began to glow brightly. Then she threw her hands down and back behind her, arching her back. The swirl of ice and snow around her glowed with a blinding white light, and flew up to a single point, a brilliant beacon high above the forest.
The forest floor shook. Even Alexander, who was watching and was aware of her every move, reached out to a nearby tree for balance. And he watched in amazement as the beacon, which Elsa had launched into the sky, exploded in all directions, showering everything in the vicinity with snow and ice. He looked with concern to Elsa; there was a violence in it, and he lost sight of her for a moment in the bright light. But what he caught sight of, as the beacon faded, was a woman who was overjoyed and happy and laughing. A woman at one with the wind and sky. And she was not done yet.
She bent down, turned her palms to the stars, and stood. A hexagonal platform of ice rose from the surface of the lake. Then she threw her arms up, first one and then the other, and great columns vaulted into the sky. Her fractals locked perfectly into place as the magic crackled around her, and she swept her hand across the floor so that her signature snowflake appeared. She had created a little ice palace, a raised platform with vaulting arches but no walls.
After a calm settled over the lake, Alexander stepped onto the ice and approached the little palace. Elsa peaked her head over the edge of the platform and looked at him with a smile. "One second," she said. She had not built a way up. With a flick of her wrist, an arched staircase in ice formed, ending at Alexander's feet. Alexander couldn't help think back to all those doll-sized palaces she would make when they were children—she would often not have a staircase. Not that they were big enough for anyone to go inside. This little palace certainly needed a staircase though, unless you were a magical queen who could create it with a stomp. He ascended the staircase, her demonstration of power and strength washing over him.
"Oh! One moment," she said, as he was about to ascend the stairs. She reached out with her hand and a collection of ice pellets assembled into a small but ornate shelter. She cleared her throat. "Would you mind?" she said. "I don't want Fjørå to get too cold."
Alexander smiled, and calmly said, "Of course, my lady." He walked back to the edge of the lake, and Fjørå allowed herself to be led into the shelter. Then Alexander walked back onto the lake, and ascended the stairs.
The delay gave Elsa time to decide exactly where and how she wanted to stand. With Alexander tending to Fjørå, Elsa hurried to the centre of the snowflake pattern on the floor. She then faced the top of the staircase where he would approach, turned a quarter-turn, and adjusted her skirts so they settled nicely around her. She wanted to appear acceptable, maybe even pretty, if that were at all possible.
She looked down at her reflexion in the ice. There it was: that stubborn bang that licked down on her forehead, forever out of place. It seemed to defy gravity. Worse than that, it defied her magic! "Anna was kissed by trolls; I was licked by a cow," she huffed under her breath. She put it back in place, and then struck a contrapuntal pose: one leg forward a little, her shoulders rotated in the opposite direction; and she folded her hands neatly in front of her with her fingers interlaced.
When he stood at the top of the stairs and saw she had placed herself at the centre of the snowflake pattern on the floor with skirts of her gown just so, he smiled knowingly. There was just something so perfect about seeing her stand amidst her own creation. He hastened towards her. And just then, as he was almost to her, she felt the irritation not of her bang but of a golden whorl out of place. She adjusted it, awkwardly twisting it around her finger and trying to get it to grace her shoulder just so, before folding her hands in front of her again and smiling sweetly.
Seeing Elsa awkwardly fondle her whorl was one of the most enchanting and Elsa-like things he had ever seen. He was overwhelmed by a sense of affection for her. She was like a vision, standing standing there. His lady. As he cautiously made his way across her perfectly smooth ice, he would not have noticed anything other than her, not even if the moon were plucked from the night sky. He delighted in her every nervous glance and movement.
"My glorious Elsa," he said. "Show me who you are. Don't hold back."
Elsa lowered her eyes and smiled. She wanted to show him, more than anything. But she also wanted to feel as free as she had felt on the North Mountain. And she felt an urge to stand before him as she would have as a débutante on the ballroom floor. So she took a deep breath, and undid the fastener of her cape. The white velvet slid from her shoulders.
When one stops breathing, it is difficult to notice the passage of time. As such, Alexander lost several moments of his life, Elsa standing before him in all her glory. Her appearance had brought him to his knees earlier; perhaps it was all the more shocking, then, that he was able to stand now. Her velvet cape gathered in a pile at her feet, revealing her lithe shoulders and delicate clavicle. The sensuality of her long gloves was heightened, showing off every graceful movement of her fingers and arms, and enhancing the exquisiteness of her strapless corset. Her gown hugged the curves of her body, and the circlet on her brow and necklace at her neck shimmered in the moonlight.
Elsa closed her eyes, and tipped her head back, and lifted her gloves arms. The wind picked up again, catching her skirts and his cloak. Blue and white energy started to swirl around them. Alexander was almost blown off his feet.
"Alexander," she said, "hold on to me. I will catch you if you should fall." And she held out her hands.
He held out his hands, and she clasped them in hers with surprising strength. He could feel her natural cold radiating through her gloves, felt it creeping up his arm. The wind and snow grew still stronger, buffeting him with great force; and he could feel the crackle of her powerful magic flow through his body.
Elsa took a step closer. As she did, she enveloped him in the bubble of calm that protected her no matter how tempestuous the forces she summoned. She opened her sapphire blue eyes and looked at him. She felt so very connected to him at this moment. She was with him, alone in the forest, and she could finally be herself. She was unencumbered, unafraid.
She looked at him intently, and became aware of his intense desire for her—that he harboured much more than just a passing fancy for her. She saw that he wanted to be close to her, the way a man wants to be close to a woman he loves. She was embarrassed by it, and her cheeks coloured. It was as if, in the man before her, there were a team of horses, wild and forceful and ardent; there was a passionate violence to them as well, but masterfully kept in check by a circumspect charioteer who overmatched them at every stride.
"Hold on tighter," she said with a smile, squeezing his hands. She breathed in deeply, and with that breath, the swirl of energy around them collected in their hands. There was a spark of light, and her whole body shuddered, almost violently. And then all was silent except for her breathing as if she were out of breath. Her eyes were lustrous, and she stepped back, opening her hands. Then Alexander opened his.
He was cradling a chesspiece carved from ice. A queen, forged from ice of midnight blue, flecked with silver. As he turned it over in his hands, he pointed with delight at Elsa's signature snowflake adorning the crown; she smiled and pointed to the bottom where a stylised rose was embossed. Then they held it aloft and gasped in delight as they noticed that the placement of the silver flecks matched the positions of the stars overhead.
Elsa was surprised. This sort of thing had never happened before. She had not formulated the intention of creating a chesspiece. And while she recognised where the midnight blue ice had come from, the silver flecks were new. It was puzzling. And Alexander was beside himself with delight.
They held the queen close between them and traced the shape; their fingers met as they fondled it. But they were no longer looking at the chesspiece. They were once again gazing at each other. Alexander felt giddy looking into her eyes, almost feeling as if he could pitch forward into those vibrant pools of sapphire blue. Elsa saw in his dark eyes a fervour, a yearning; but she did not retreat. She felt curious, intrigued. The world outside them faded. Time stopped. They were frozen in place.
"It seems your knight has captured my queen after all," she murmured. She couldn't stop herself from blushing as she said it, but she did not look away.
He felt his fondness for her surge, and slipped the chesspiece into and inner pocket of his heavy cloak. Still looking deep into her eyes, he raised her hand to his lips, kissing the back; then he slowly turned her hand over, and deliberately kissed her palm, feeling both the leather of her glove and her natural chill against his lips. She spread her fingers, and lifted her hand up slightly to touch his cheek with her fingertips. He felt himself become breathless and a quiver of desire ran up his spine. He needed to feel her body next to his.
Alexander stepped forward into the folds of her gown, almost as for the first beat of a waltz. But the intention to be closer was not his alone. At the same time, she stepped towards him, sliding her arms under his cloak and around his back. The space between them vanished as they folded each other in an impassioned embrace. Her pretty curves were close against his chest; his inner leg was alongside hers. She felt the hair on the back of her neck prickle with expectancy. She felt her body rise.
Elsa leaned into his body, more real, more sumptuous, than any dream. Her natural frozen-rose scent perfumed the air; her pretty whorls caught the moonlight; and her soft lips beckoned. As he traced her jawline with his forefinger, a flurry of midnight blue snowflakes flecked with silver started to swirl around them. But he did not notice—he was staring at her adoringly. He put his thumb on her lips, until she parted them. Then he leaned towards her. She gasped and fluttered her eyes close.
Their lips met. It was just a touch; but that slight contact was enough to send sparks of pleasure and nerves streaking through her body. But it was too little; the anticipation made her quiver. His taste, his scent, his warmth; the force of her desire washed away her qualms. She needed to go deeper.
She did.
She parted her lips and pulled him towards her. This was not a chaste, polite kiss. It was a kiss that could stop a heart. It was a kiss that would never be forgotten. A strange warmth spread through her body—starting at her lips, and flowing through her veins. The flurry that cascaded around them started to glow, kindled by her passion. And then, all of a sudden, her nervousness and her reservation dissipated; her desire surged and crashed through her body. She felt her body ignite.
"Oh!" she said as she yielded to her yearning; but her vocalisation was stifled by his kissing her. She wasn't sure she could take much more. Her legs grew weak, and she felt as if she could not stand any longer. He ran one arm behind her bare shoulders blades, his hand at the back of her head, to support her. As soon as she felt his fingers amongst her golden whorls, she let herself go; she let him support her. Shocks of pleasure spiralled through her body and she arched her back with a gasp. Her mind went blank.
Alexander loved supporting Elsa's weight, the feel of her body, pressed against him as he kissed her. Her lips, her scent, her breathlessness, drew him in more; there was an urgency, intensity to his touch. He wanted to devour her; to drown in her; to become one with her. But as he became aware of what had arisen in his breast, he restrained himself. Despite the powerful attraction he felt towards her, she deserved the most gentle consideration.
He touched her cheek with his fingertips; and just that little extra touch pushed her over the edge—it was too intense. She felt lightheaded, her body trembled, and she needed to catch her breath; she broke the kiss with a half-sigh, half-moan. He held her until strength came back to her legs, and her breath returned. She put a gloved hand on his chest, and looked him straight in the eye with a lopsided grin. "Well!" she said, exhaling unevenly.
He reached up and pushed back a lick of her hair that had fallen out of place. "My glorious Elsa," he murmured with a knowing smile, "it would appear that you are human after all."
Elsa did not know what to say; she blushed and looked down. It was as if all his longing for her had been contained in that one singular kiss; but more than that, she allowed herself to respond. He had not turned into ice. Her kingdom had not been enveloped in a second Great Freeze. All that happened was that she had let herself feel, let herself be free.
Alexander walked around her, careful never to break contact with her corset, her gloves, or her skin. He caressed her shoulders; and then, with reverence, bowed his head and kissed them, then her neck. She closed her eyes, holding her breath, and interlaced her fingers tightly in front of her, trying to steady herself. But each time his lips came into contact with her skin, a shock ran through her body. "Mmmmm," she said, and gasped. She had never been in such a state before; never knew that it was possible to be this sensitive to another.
There was a glow to her; a pinkness creeping up her chest and shoulders. A warmth. "Elsa," he said, absolutely delighted, "Your natural chill; it's changing. Perhaps love does thaw."
Elsa rested the fingertips of her gloves on her chest, just below her neck, and to her surprise, her chill was not the same as usual. Eyes widened, she chuckled and sighed. "Oh!" she murmured; then she added, "I have heard that said before."
She turned around shyly, demurely, and faced him; he couldn't help but admire her alluring flush. As he held her hands in his, they looked at the floor; Elsa's signature snowflake had become coloured with a midnight blue tincture: darkest under their feet, and slowly creeping towards the edges of the snowflake. She glanced down over one shoulder in self-conscious embarrassment; he simply watched her and adored her with his whole being.
He reached out, and caressed her cheek, her shoulder. And then he reached down to pick up her debutante cape, draping it respectfully over his arm. They strolled hand in hand to the ledge of the platform. As they got to the edge, she picked up some of her skirts, and smiling sweetly said, "Would you mind, Alexander?"
He reached down to the hem where she indicated, and lifted slightly as she sat. Her skirts were so opulent and luxurious, rustling as she settled, her legs swinging freely over the side. He helped her arrange her train so that it was spread out prettily behind her, and then sat down alongside her, dangling his legs over the side.
There was no need to say anything, and so they sat in silence for a long time. They thought about the beauty of where they were, of what had transpired between them. The northern lights bathed the sky in greens and purples, rippling across the night sky; the ice crystals in the surrounding trees glowed and pulsed in silent acknowledgement of their mistress. It seemed to Alexander as if Elsa were in her natural environment, a little ice palace on a frozen lake, amidst a thick copse of trees. But it was more than that.
He was conscious Elsa's feeling free, but also of her revealing herself. Her freedom, her revelation, was the most wondrous part of an entirely spellbinding evening. Between that, and the privilege of sitting next to his lady in her little ice palace, what else could he possibly wish?
Alexander lifted her hand to his lips as he had so many times before, kissing the back of her hand and then her palm. She felt the heat of his lips again and stifled a shudder.
"Alexander," she said. "Why do you do that?"
"My father told me that the way to a woman's heart was through her stomach. But I know that that's not true for you," he said, pausing and tracing her palm with his fingers. He turned towards her. "The way to your heart is through your mind and through your magic. I know your mind is restless, that you see questions and challenges before the rest of us do, and want to protect Arendelle. And I know you feel the great burden of your magic, that you do not see it simply as power, but as power that you have a responsibility to use for good ends. But there is beauty in both."
"And also danger," said Elsa.
"But much of true value has danger to it. Elsa, I want to be close to you, even if there is danger," he said, kissing her palm again, "but because of who I know you to be. I want your heart."
"And why do you want my heart?" asked Elsa. If she were coquettish, she might have been fishing for compliments. But being Elsa, she was actually just curious and wanted to know.
Alexander would have looked at her in disbelief had he not known her reasonably well. How foolish would he have to be not to want her heart? He turned so that only one leg dangled, and took both of her hands in his, squeezing tight. "Elsa, I know you are not a fairytale princess, the sort that finds true love and lives in her castle happily ever after. But I have seen your heart. I know that you will not give it away easily. But I also know if you ever chose to, you will never let go. And that, my dear Elsa, is worth more than anything. You true heart and your lopsided smile."
"But why me, Alexander?" she asked. "Why not Althea who is much wiser than I, or Thea who was never changed by years of isolation?"
"Do you think that a man's heart only wants wisdom or innocence?" asked Alexander. Elsa turned her sapphire blue eyes to him and tilted her head. He reached out, and touched her cheek, traced his thumb along her jawline. "I have never seen anyone love like you do. My parents had a strong bond; and I saw your mother and father together often. I know Anna loves every moment of every day, and brings joy to you always. But I have seen you love, and it takes my breath away. You have so much strength, that for the sake of love you pushed everyone you loved away. Then you used your love to thaw a frozen kingdom.
"As a boy, I loved you as a friend, and as a guardian who was responsible for corralling a mischievous princess. But as a man—," he let his finger trace down her neck, then followed her clavicle with his touch. It was almost too much for her; where he was touching her was too intimate, yet she did not pull away. Her whole gown moved as she breathed in deeply and nervously exhaled. "I want the love of the young woman you have become."
Elsa leaned towards him, and he encircled her with his arms. His snow queen. His Elsa. Slowly, hesitatingly, she tilted her head, almost resting it on his shoulder; then, finally, she let herself do just that. She had stepped out of the shadows, and what she had found was a man whose love and admiration for her seemed boundless. She had never guessed such a thing was possible, let alone that she could inspire it. And she started to see his true strength too. Loyalty, yes. But that was just the beginning. She was starting to allow herself to believe he was in earnest.
Alexander's whole body shivered. Despite being dressed in heavy cloak, they had been standing and then sitting on a platform of ice, so cold that the chill radiated up through him. And even with a flush of intimacy, it was not as if Elsa's body generated heat. She reached across for her velvet cape, and wrapped it around his shoulders. It was softer and finer than anything he had ever owned; and it had acquired a faint echo of her natural frozen-rose scent. He pulled it around himself, and was warmed not just by the thick velvet, but also because it was the cape of his lady.
"Can I ask you another question?" Elsa asked, as if there was some possibility he would say no.
"Yes," said Alexander.
Elsa paused and then took a deep breath. Then she asked, in a quieter voice, "What do you think of me now? Of my magic?"
"Well, I've always wanted my own little ice palace," he said with a chuckle. She smiled weakly back at him and then looked down, not saying anything. He grew serious. He reached out for her hand. "My lady, do you worry that I might see you—as a monster?"
She nodded.
"People sometimes fear what they do not understand; and indeed I do not pretend to understand your magic. But your magic fills me with curiosity and wonder," he said. Then he held her closer. "Elsa, please listen to me. And if you believe nothing else I have ever said, I want you to believe this. You are not, and never have been, a monster. And nothing anyone could say, and nothing you could do, shall make me think otherwise."
"Why?" she asked.
"Because I have known your heart, since you were a girl, and your heart is a good one. And what you have shown me, here tonight, Elsa—you strike my heart with wonder. And you should never fear that anything you do will make me turn away from you. I am yours, mind, soul, and body. Until you want me to go," he said. "And even then, I will still be yours. You never have to explain yourself to me, or to wonder whether I stand by you. You can trust me. All I ask is that you be who you are; that you not hold back."
Elsa exhaled and her hand flew to her mouth. She looked away quickly. Her heart felt full, but full of what she was not sure. She felt like crying and laughing at the same time. A single tear rolled down her cheek.
He could see a longing deep inside Elsa, a desire to connect, a desire to be understood. But who could truly understand a woman who was sui generis? All he could do is adore her with every fibre of his being. She turned back to him, and he lifted his fingers to her cheek, wiping away her tear. "I love you, my glorious Elsa. I will never stop loving you. Not ever."
Elsa looked down and squeezed his hand. She shook her head slowly, her golden whorls repeatedly catching the moonlight as she moved her head.
"Why do you shake your head, my lady," he asked.
"Because I want to know," mumbled Elsa.
"Know what, exactly?" he asked.
"I want to know if it is acceptable for me to want," she said.
He felt his heart break for her. The magical Queen of Arendelle, a sovereign who will be spoken of for generations, with a kingdom that adored her, and complete power over snow an ice, and possibly even life itself—given Olaf and Marshmallow—did not know whether it was acceptable for her to have desires, to want what was not prescribed.
Alexander placed his thumb and forefinger alongside Elsa's jawbone, and gently lifted her chin so she was looking directly at him. "I know this to be true, as surely as I know my own hand. And so I answer: it is acceptable for you to want whatever your heart desires. With a heart like yours, whatever you want will be good. I am sure of it. And you should be as well."
Elsa smiled. And then, much to his surprise, she put her fingers alongside his cheek, and leaned over. She parted her lips and kissed him. It was short, though not altogether chaste. But it was unlike any kiss he had ever experienced, because this time she had entirely taken it upon herself to kiss him. He bowed his head slightly, and she pressed her forehead against his.
The sat together peacefully, her hands in his, looking out from their perch on the ledge. Here in the forest, away from the castle, they had created a fairytale of their own. At least for a little while, they were not queen and councillor. She was indeed a powerful enchantress with power over snow and ice. But more importantly, she was a woman exploring what it meant to be herself and to have desires of her own. And he was a hopelessly in love with the woman who sat beside him, and was discovering how to love her as a man.
They sighed and cleaved together and enjoyed each other's touch. Then, all at once, at the same moment,, they looked at each other. It was time to step out of the fairytale and back into their lives at home. They stood up, him still with her white velvet cape across his shoulders, and walked down the staircase. Fjørå was waiting patiently in her shelter; Alexander led her out. Turning to her little ice palace, Elsa paused wistfully and sighed before turning her back.
Alexander lifted Elsa onto Fjørå. For whatever reason, Fjørå seemed calmer on the walk to the forest's edge, perhaps because Alexander was not sitting behind Elsa but walked quietly alongside. The ice in the trees glowed as Elsa was near, and a trail of midnight blue snowflakes settled on the forest path, behind Fjørå as she passed.
As they got to the forest's edge, Alexander felt somewhat melancholy. The most memorable evening of his life was drawing to a close. Not that he did not hope for more to come. But there would surely never be another night like tonight. Elsa watched him carefully and could tell what he was thinking. At the edge of the forest, where the last lamppost of the village stretched its light in amongst the trees, Elsa pulled the reins taut.
"There shall be other evenings," she said quietly.
With one hand on the reins, she leaned down towards him, and placed her other hand on his shoulder. Then she bent down even further, and with him reaching towards her, they kissed. It was a kiss that exchanged her hesitation for his warmth, her hesitation for his passion, her breath for his soul. When she broke the kiss, and sat upright again in the saddle, he took a couple of uneven steps backwards, trying to regain his composure. She smiled lopsidedly, charmed by the effect she had had on his sense of balance. She chirped to Fjørå, and within a very few moments he found himself alone in the forest, watching the queen of his kingdom and of his heart as she and Fjørå went back to Arendelle Castle.
He watched her the entire way back. From his vantage point at the forest's edge, he could see her make her way back, the moonlight glinting off her golden hair and pure white gown. As they got further away, Fjørå's black coat made the horse invisible in the darkness, almost giving Elsa the appearance of floating as she crossed the Castle Bridge. Alexander followed a short while later. He had never dreamed a night like tonight was possible. He felt truly blessed. And she had engendered in him a love that, from this night forward, was unbreakable, and would only grow with the passage of time.
Just as Fjørå was about to step onto the grounds of the castle, Elsa asked her mount to halt. She turned back, looking wistfully at the forest in the distance. She had never experienced an evening quite like this. She lifted her arms high, and breathed in deeply. The flurries of snow that she had created, the ice crystals that were glowing as she came near, her little ice castle, Fjørå's shelter, all started to dissipate; they gathered and swirled into a cloud.
Alexander saw her raise her arms, and watched in awe as her ice took flight. It swept past him and up into the sky, over the great forests to the north, twisting over cliff faces, and through valleys, and finally across the sea. They settled. And an ancient ice stirred in its primordial slumber.