Chapter Two - The Wooden Door
Over the years, Erik and Aaron hardly ever saw each other. The last memory Aaron had of Erik was him closing the door to his new bedroom with an apologetic look. Unknowingly, the door he shut would be a cell to him for the next eleven years of his life.
Everyday, Aaron would knock on his brother's door eagerly, asking; "Do you wanna build a snowman?" but for the first time, Erik didn't reply.
Aaron looked at the wooden door, confused and hurt as to why Erik wouldn't talk to him. Maybe he had done something to upset him? "Erik, come on, let's go and play!" he called. But no one replied.
The Queen walked by at that very moment, and Aaron ran up to her. "Mama, Erik won't play with me!" he said, crossing his arms in a pout. The Queen knew this would happen eventually, but she hadn't expected it to be so soon. They had only moved Erik out of Aaron's room a few days after their meeting with the trolls, and already Aaron couldn't stand being apart from his brother.
Gently, she ruffled her son's red hair, where his white streak now stayed permanently due to the collision. She knelt down. "I think Erik just wants to be alone right now," she said, and Aaron nodded, going off to play by himself. But deep down, he couldn't help but think he had done something wrong.
One day, Erik was gazing out his bedroom window at his brother playing in the snow, and his heart longed to go out and join him. He imagined himself building a million snowmen with his brother, to make up for all the times he had rejected him.
Ignoring his better judgement, Erik made dents appear in the snow from afar, dents that spelled out 'I LOVE YOU AARON'
He waited to see his brother's reaction, his little woollen cloak longer than his own height, and saw his delight as he jumped and down, and seemed to start searching for something. Erik knew he was looking for him, like he was hiding somewhere and was going to jump out and surprise him at any minute. But he wasn't. The familiar pang of guilt crept over him, and he felt his powers taking control of his emotions. His anxiety, insecurity and guilt caused a layer of sharp, spiky ice to spawn over the window-sill his hands were touching. He gasped in shock and pulled away as quick as lightning, not wanting his brother to see... or anyone else for that matter.
That night, his father came to him with a solution. It was a pair of tiny white gloves, which he tenderly placed over his son's hand. "The gloves will help," said the King, taking Erik's hand in his own, "See? Conceal it..." he gestured for Erik to finish the sentence.
"Don't feel it," replied the boy, "Don't let it show," father and son recited in unison.
The King smiled at his son's new-found solution, but he was still worried inside as he felt Erik's bedroom become colder day by day.
Three years passed and Aaron was now 10, Erik being 13. The red-head had developed hundreds of tiny freckles all over his face, and his white streak of hair stuck out proud in his enormous mess of fiery orange.
He knocked on his brother's door again, as usual. "Erik! Do you wanna build a snowman?" he called.
To his surprise, he actually got a response. "Go away, Aaron." his brother called from the other side.
The younger prince felt anger and frustration wash over him all over again. Why? He thought. Why did his brother hate him? "Okay," he said, lingering at the door, "Bye."
Little did he know however, that even if Erik hadn't been confined to his room, the door had been frozen over with a layer of ice that was only getting thicker. When his father came to visit that night, he had had to ram through it with his shoulder.
"I'm scared!" Erik cried, "It's getting stronger!" he was practically in tears. "I can't breathe, I can't dream, I can't do anything without it bursting out!"
His father knelt down to meet his gaze. "Getting upset only makes it worse, calm down…" he went in for a hug, but Erik jerked away in fear.
"NO! Don't touch me, please. I don't wanna hurt you..." at these words, the King's heart broke in two, and his mother tried her hardest to hold back the cascades of tears in her eyes. She could never again hug her son?
Erik's powers were getting stronger day by day. Large spikes of ice had nearly covered every part of the ceiling, and no one could enter his room without wearing a warm coat. The room was freezing. Erik never seemed to mind or even notice, though. The cold never seemed to bother him. That night, he had woken up from a nightmare, and looked up in horror to find that sharp icicles, inches away from his face, had formed on the over-head canopy. What was he going to do?
One night, the King and Queen went down to the castle dungeons while everyone else was asleep.
"Are you sure this is necessary?" asked Iduna asked in a desperate tone, "These were made to maintain... animals…"
Agnarr placed a comforting hand on his wife's shoulder. "Calm down, my love. This is only a precaution if... if Erik's powers get too strong. This is for the best." he said, but the Queen jerked his hand away.
"You always say that." she said, her eyes full of suspicion. Agnarr suddenly turned his head, swearing that he had heard someone in the hallway running away. But that was impossible, he thought. All of the palace staff had turned in for the night. When he looked down the hallway, there was no one to be seen. So together, husband and wife left the cell, the specialised chains they had ordered sprawled on the floor...
The years continued to pass, and the Prince's were now 15 and 18. Aaron skidded down the hallway and glanced at Erik's door and felt his muscle memory turn to knock, but stopped himself before he could be disappointed again.
No... He thought. He's not gonna answer... And didn't bother to knock, his heart sinking deeper into the feeling of guilt. What had he done that had been so wrong? Instead, he pushed aside his feelings and ran into his parent's arms as they packed for their three day sea voyage to the kingdom of Corona, as the Princess Rapunzel was to be married.
"See you in two weeks!" he said lovingly, and his parents hugged him back.
Downstairs, as the Queen and King were departing, Erik, now a young man, bowed respectfully to his parents, still sporting a pair of gloves. "Do you have to go?" he asked, fearing what his life would be like without his protectors.
"You'll be fine, Erik," said his father. He placed a hand on his son's shoulder, his grip tight and almost violent. He leant closer to whisper into Erik's ear. "Don't let it show, do you hear me?" he questioned.
Erik silently gulped and nodded, keeping his eyes fixed on the wall in front of him. Agnarr nodded back, and released his painful grip. Iduna put her hands to her mouth, her eyes swimming with worry. She gave her son a look that meant I'm sorry, but Erik just stood proud. His father knew what was best for him. Didn't he?
Erik had developed multiple anxieties and lacked many social skills from his years in isolation. He hated talking to anyone that wasn't his parents and suffered a deep depression due to his forced mistreatment of Aaron.
Meanwhile, the younger Prince had grown into the happy, perfect son their parents had always wanted him to be. He had a sunny disposition and always looked on the bright side of life. Aaron had many friends in the village and loved going outside, giving hugs to everyone whether or not they wanted one. The villagers often whispered about how they wanted Aaron to take the throne instead of his brother, who shut himself away for no reason. Or so it seemed.
Erik slowly began to be consumed by guilt. It was his fault that Aaron grew up without a brother. It was his fault his mother could never hug him, and it was his fault that the kingdom would have to have a King that never showed his face. Everything was his fault. He had caused everything himself. He hated himself.
On the third day of the King and Queen's voyage, a terrible storm thrashed against the sky. Thunder and lighting brutally slashed the air and the water turned furiously angry and cold. Eventually, the waves grew too big for the ship to withstand, and with one giant wave, the ship was devoured by the heart of the ocean. Their bodies were never found.
Back in Arendelle, the mourning of the kingdom's beloved rulers lasted for many months. Erik continued to conceal himself within the castle, and Aaron attended his parent's funeral alone.
A part of Erik was left completely destroyed. He stood hunched over his desk and let his tears fall, as he was now alone to deal with his condition. His last gesture to his parents was a casual bow. That was it. That had been all he had done. He couldn't even push aside his fear for one passing moment and make his last interaction with his father one to look back on and smile. As soon as his tears left his eyes, they froze over and became minuscule snowflakes, which Erik swatted away, attempting to crush them. Attempting to crush his pain. Attempting to crush himself.
The younger prince slowly walked down the hallway to Erik's room with a heart heavier than the strongest iron. Instead of his usual cheery knock that he had used all through his childhood, he simply knocked three times when he reached the door.
"Erik," he began, not playing games anymore. This was too serious for that. "Erik, I know you're in there. People are asking about you. They..." Aaron looked up and tried to stop the tears from flowing, blinking them away, "They tell me have courage, and, I'm trying. God, I'm trying, I'm... I'm right here for you, if you need," Aaron waited for a response, but as usual, received nothing. "Then again, you probably don't. After all, you haven't said ten words to me for three years." giving into his emotions and letting the tears fall, he turned his back and slid down the wall, unsure of what to say. What could he say? Their parents were dead and his brother hated him. Without thinking about the stupidity of his words, Aaron muttered, "Do you wanna build a snowman?"
Little did he know however, that his brother's form was right next to his through the thin frame of the wood, and Erik sat with his back against the door identically.
With one knee brought into his chest and the other sprawled on the floor, his posture awful and painful, the blonde cried silently. He hadn't hugged his parents goodbye. He hadn't had physical contact with anyone for at least five years. His room now resembled a place as icy as the fjords outside, as snowflakes flew around freely and frost covered every surface of the room, but Erik never felt the cold. He never felt anything anymore.
Author's note: Ooooooo, it's gettin' good now, I'm low-key crying for Erik right now, poor guy! Some dialogue is inspired by Do You Wanna Build A Snowman, which is owned by Disney, not me. Please don't sue me, Mickey!