a/n; thank you for the reviews! to take the time out of your lives to comment on anything takes energy and thought, and i appreciate the time you gave to write them. who knew fandoms could contain so much drama and passion? ;) for the readers who are enjoying it, i hope you continue!
Dear Prince Hans Westergaard of the Southern Isles,
Your list of speculations is astounding and creative. It would be impressive had you been anyone else. However, due to the nature of who you decided to be and who you have become, each speculation listed against me is wrought with arrogance and narcissism.
Your self-aggrandizing is audacious in the way that I've come to think about you. You are attempting to find ways that make you important. It is as similar as mining for coal in a desert. You will never find importance no matter how doggedly you try to trick your mind into believing it.
For once, when you shed the arrogance, you are correct. For me to feel any of the basest of emotions toward you, I must first feel something. It is a stretch for me to call you a person—you are soulless, heartless, and self-proclaimed in your position to be irredeemable. You are much akin to the scum that collects along the drain of a bathtub. Dirty, unpleasant, and hurriedly discarded once noticed. No one pauses to care when flushed into the sewage line.
For a lady of my stature, as you call me, to give you any inkling of emotion above the level of apathy would be nothing less than betraying myself. No self-respecting woman would disservice herself in such a way. As clever as you think you are, I do not believe it to be a stretch for you to understand this.
You will never feel the satisfaction of receiving anything more than my apathy.
Sincerely,
Queen Elsa of Arendelle
Dear Queen Elsa of Arendelle,
It would be an understatement to say I'm disappointed with your last response. You answered with boring predictability. You allowed yourself to answer with a door that has been open since the beginning. You are so self-respecting. You can turn your nose up to filth, because you are a Queen. You are superior. You do not lower yourself to clean the scum that you do not care for—you let your servants do it. I am sure they tell you how honored they are to clean your grime.
I allowed myself to think you would be truthful. Yet, again, you lie. Once a liar, always a liar—that is what you believe, isn't it? I'm a liar, and you will never believe anything I say ever again. I'm sure I don't have to mention how hypocritical this statement is. You've held onto a lie all your life. Why, that's more accomplished than I have ever been. Then, against all odds, you were forgiven. You were bestowed with a second chance by your sister and your people. Have you ever paused to think on that?
Have you ever noticed how similar we are? And how dissimilar? Both isolated then set free. Both choosing to make mistakes. One is forgiven, and one is not. One embracing freedom, one condemned. You may deny this. I would be disappointed if you did not.
You never answered my question, Queen. Why do you continue to write? To feel apathy for me—true apathy—you would never have sent the first letter, much less opened the first letter I sent back to you. You can bite and growl and deny and ridicule my character as much as you like. I welcome it. It's…refreshing. As I sit here and spend inordinate amounts of time thinking on who I really am, it's always helpful receiving your input.
I know why I write. I've never been a fan of denial. It has always left a bitter, lingering taste. I'm not sure how you've managed to subsist on it so much and for so long.
Yours truly,
Prince Hans Westergaard of the Southern Isles