Rifiuto: Non Miriena

A/N: Written: 2019 - Licia

A week passed, and Elsa received no reply from Kristoff, not that she was expecting one. After all, what could one possibly say about what she was going through?

Nothing, she concluded, which was why he hadn't answered her.

In that week, Elsa spent her free time buried in the books of her library, rereading Plato and Aristotle, combing through the great histories of ancient civilizations and the sweet fabrications of literacy works like Mary Shelley's Frankenstein and other novels of similar interest. She had kept up her duties as the Fifth Spirit, keeping the balance of the elements when needed, and guarding Ahtohallan when she wasn't. Though she had returned to the Northuldra, she had only visited Hans once, to check the infection and change the bandage, repacking the frost, snow and ice, though there was no need. She had made each so thick it would last for several days.

The less time I spend around him, the better, she reasoned. The less time these... feelings have to sprout up.

Four days after sending her letter to Kristoff, she had decided that the feelings she had experienced when she and Hans brushed hands had been nothing more than an involuntary response to being touched. And she made a point not to touch him unless she had to; despite Yelena's attempts to get the young woman to spend time with him, Elsa always found a reason to flee, an act which left the chief suspicious.

So it was nearing the end of the week, not long after she'd sent the letter that Elsa spent the afternoon curled up in her study with a cup of tea, a book in her lap. She sighed, turning another page.

Her father had raised her on the great philosophers, the magnificent poets and playwrights of the age- Aristotle, Plato, Shakespeare and the like, as well as obscure or lesser known writers such as Margaret Cavendish, Mary Wollstonecraft, and her daughter Mary Shelley- of which she often drew on when considering what was best for her people. She knew what her council, what her people called her behind her back, and it was not all just The Snow Queen.

The Philosopher-Queen was perhaps her most prominent, proud title after Snow Queen.

"That ruler which seeks a willingness to live a simple life, shows reliability, intelligence and a deep love of wisdom is a philosopher king. Remember that, Lisbet. A true philosopher is one who values knowledge above all else; a philosopher king is one who values knowledge and how it can help his people above all else."

"Papa? Can queens be philosophers, too?"

"Of course they can, my little Lisbet. But to be a philosopher queen, you must draw on the teachings of the past and find a way to put that knowledge to the best use to help your people, for the people of Arendelle will depend on you to keep them safe and fed and happy. Remember-"

"'A true captain must pay attention to the seasons of the year, the sky, the stars, the winds, and all that pertains to his craft,' as Plato says."

"Correct. You must pay attention to everything once you become queen, for your country and your people will depend on you. It will be your job to rule them fairly and kindly, and if you do that, never will you lose your course in the world, nor your peoples' love."

And she'd gone and blown it the first night, dashing off across the fjord in the middle of spring, leaving an eternal winter in her wake. She had heard her father's voice in her head as she'd dashed across the freezing water, but had told herself that she could not go back, that she would never be the great Philosopher-Queen she knew her father hoped her to be, for she was ruled by fear, no matter her thirst and desire for knowledge.

And yet, when she'd returned, she'd done all she could to make him proud, burying herself in Plato, Aristotle, Socrates, Homer, until she could recite them with her eyes closed. She'd devoured the British poets across the pond and the writings of fifteenth, sixteenth, seventeenth and eighteenth century writers, poets, philosophers and kings, drawing on their strongest examples and using them to tweak her own reign.

The list of monikers she had gained over her short years on the throne of Arendelle- and there were many- began to run through her head:

The Snow Queen of Arendelle; The Good Queen; The Gentle Queen; The Beloved Queen; The Lioness of Arendelle; The Venus of Arendelle; The Literature Queen; The Fairy Queen, and, perhaps the one she did not fully understand, The White Queen.

Though, were she to take a guess, she would say the last one had more to do with her appearance than anything else, given her pale complexion and white hair. But she had to admit, that Philosopher-Queen was perhaps her most cherished title, for she had done exactly as her father said. She had left Arendelle with a strong legacy, despite her short reign.

With a sigh, she shifted onto her side, stretching out on the sofa and resting her book beside her, turning another page in the fanciful tale of Gulliver, but it didn't last long, as thoughts of Arendelle crept into her mind. A moment passed, before she marked her page and closed her book, unable to concentrate. Instead, she moved to the other side of the sofa, curling up and resting her head on the arm, gaze going to the flames. Whenever she had gone anywhere of any importance, her full title had been used- as was common for reigning monarchs.

Her Royal Majesty, Queen Elisabeth Astrid Birgitta Charlotte Tatiana Louise II of Arendelle

It was so long, no wonder everyone called her Elsa.

Why exactly did Mama give me five names to begin with? She knew that two of them were Arendellian saints- Tatiana the Innocent and Brigitta the Pious- that one, Astrid, had been her Great-Great Grandmother on her father's side, and that Louise, Charlotte and Elisabeth had been the three names her parents hadn't been able to choose from, so they had compromised. She also knew that she wast the second queen to reign over Arendelle named Elsa- the first had been back in the thirteen hundreds, if she remembered right.

A sigh escaped her; Anna's name had been much shorter, and Elsa had always been jealous of it- only three names, Annika Miriam Dagmar, but everyone called her Anna instead. And now little Anna was Queen of Arendelle. Her gaze flicked to the desk where her letter to Anna sat locked away, and she sighed, climbing to her feet. She grabbed the key and unlocked the drawer, picking up the unfinished letter.

I'm so sorry I haven't responded in the last couple of weeks. The forest is fine, the other elements are doing well, and everything is in perfect working order...

She continued to read, letting her mind digest the the words she had spelled out so neatly for her little sister. The daily happenings of the tribe and how Bruni and Gale were doing, what she'd been up to in regards to her work and how she was perfectly content to stay within the forest. A moment passed, before she moved around the desk, kneeling beside the fireplace. She read over the letter one more time, before making up her mind. Without a second thought, she tossed the stationary into the fire, watching as the flames began to slowly lick at the paper, blackening her neat scrawl, the names she signed- the only time she ever signed her full birth name was under great stress or anxiety.

A sigh escaped her, but she felt no remorse at burning it. She couldn't send it, she just couldn't.

As she watched the paper turn to ash, she couldn't help wondering, for the briefest of moments, if what she spoke of in the letter had been in reference to Hans. She quickly shook her head. No, it couldn't be. It had to be something else. Couldn't it?

Anna, I feel I must confess something, or I feel I will go mad. I love Mother's people, I love learning more about her, I am happy here, but... but Anna, I am growing restless. I know not if it's resentment or just the desire to go where the wind calls me, but I fear if something does not change, that I will have to force myself to move on, and leave not just the Northuldra and Arendelle, but our small province of Europe as well. I fear I will not be satisfied if I stay here much longer. Anna, I hear the voice; I don't know if it's Mother calling me again or someone else this time, but it is all I've been hearing for the last three weeks. It is pulling me towards something- I just don't know what. And I fear what will happen if I attempt to find out.

Sincerely,

Elisabeth Astrid Birgitta Charlotte Tatiana Louise II of Arendelle