Dear Prince Hans Westergaard of the Southern Isles,
Being lonely is different than being alone. Were you either, or were you both?
I tried not to be either, but I would find myself feeling the effects of both. Some days were desperately lonely. Some days, I was merely alone. The main difference between you and I is that I was raised by my parents. They had help with servants, of course, but none so much as you paint for your experiences.
I will neither say that I pity you or if I believe you. I will not say whether my heart aches for the hand you were dealt or whether I wish you would have stayed your place as you claim was your destiny. I cannot say one way or another, because I do not have any example for when you were once honest or working toward something that was not only for your gain, but for someone else's.
Sincerely,
Queen Elsa of Arendelle
P.S. Where do you write your letters? Are you in a cell, or are you comfortably swathed in the blankets of your own bed? Rumors are only that. Your parents only say that you have been taken care of. But I must know.
Dear Queen Elsa of Arendelle,
I was lonely. I was never alone. I was always surrounded by people, though they always seemed a world away. They did not try to understand me, and in turn, I forced myself to understand them. You see, power and control come in all forms. I had to control something outside of me. I was not blessed with powers like yours, Queen Elsa. If I had been, perhaps the need for power would not have been so prominent. Or maybe I always would have been interested in power, even if my life were different. Had my life more meaning, would I have still dabbled in treachery and exploiting others for my own gain? That answer will never be known.
Ah, you are mimicking me. Clever. At least, you are clever now. Were you clever before? I didn't get to know you before. Am I rubbing off on you? Or are you mocking me? I'd like to think both. You may refute that, but be warned. If you do, it will only solidify the notion. The surest way to admit to something is to deny it. You are probably aware, given…everything. Avoiding the answer only makes me more curious.
I wonder. You mention your heart may ache for what I endured in my past. If I were able to convince you, would you still feel that way?
Before I answer your post-script, tell me. Where do you think I write these letters?
Yours truly,
Prince Hans Westergaard of the Southern Isles