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Chapter 2: Sorrow

Elsa

The fools, the mad fools. I warned them. Not to go in the middle of winter. They never understood what I could be capable of, even if I didn't mean to do anything.

My father, god rest his lost soul, gave me gloves to hide in. Not going to lie, I had no love for them. They were crushing, stifling, a step above handcuffs and chains; that's what they were, nothing else.

And yet, they had the strangest power over me. Once I wore them, I could pretend to be normal. I remember being peaceful and happy after a long time, little knowing that my dastardly powers would always find a way.

It had felt good to be close to Anna after a long time, goodness she was warm. Like a comforting hot coal under the bed. And then, like the rudest, merciless blast of polar wind on my face, my powers make their surroundings unwilling hosts. My powers are uncouth, they have no respect for anything, not even family time.

God bless her innocence, but Anna didn't notice the leaking of my powers. I remember thanking the heavens above for the natural snowfall. But nature couldn't come to my rescue every time.

In that moment I had a terrible realization; I was the flame, and Anna was the moth attracted to me, doomed to be burnt upon contact, or frozen in my case. How could I let that happen? She yearned for my company, as a baby sister would do for a sibling. And I was to be her doom. No, never. If she couldn't stop hovering around me, I had to extinguish myself. For how else could she be saved, if she roamed back to her destruction with such a free heart?

I promised to myself, I'd extinguish my feelings, my passions, I'd be hollow, so that she may come back to me safely. I'd need to conceal it; I can't let it ebb out. She'd hate me forever, but that's the road I had to choose. Better alive than dead.

But it was torture, getting my powers tethered. I could hear them cursing, throwing profanities at me, rendering me worthless. Even the gloves had begun to betray me. I writhed in pain under the strain, the pressure, the impossible task. This terrible vow I had taken began choking me along with my powers. And Anna's voice, ever present at the door, calling me out, shattered my resolve every day.

It had been ages since I sang, since I'd done anything creative, since I'd allowed myself to enjoy good food, pleasure. I'd let the food go tepid on purpose, so that I wouldn't have an emotional reaction to it. I refused to take interest in a typical book, one reason being that it would do nothing to help me in my real life, another reason was I couldn't risk getting invested for reasons that should seem obvious by now. Experiencing pleasure? Out of the question.

But no matter how it made my life easier, it made no less painful the feeling of helplessness when Anna began confronting me more often. All it took was one question, a particular question came to mind all too often.

'Why wouldn't you say anything? Don't you love me?'

It took every ounce of strength in my fragile body to just walk away, else I would have dug a whole right there and buried myself alive. If only I could tell her.

And then I saw the manacles my parents had built. They were designed to cover my whole hand, to constrict if my powers started acting up. Ho, even those I looked up to now had lost hope. And now they were dead.

I was in this fight alone, for even Anna had had enough. The last time I heard her voice, she tearfully sang 'Do you want to build a snowman' at my door, but I was savvy enough to listen the unspoken words 'Please open the door, I don't know how to carry on. Please open the door, else I'll give up.' There went my anchor, broken off my ship, sinking into the abyss, while I was to float adrift now, till the end of my days, without direction and destination. I'm not ashamed to admit it, I wept and mourned the loss of three people that night. Damn my powers, if they were so itching for action, I had no strength or will left to hold them back.

And so, the bedroom turned white once again, echoing the ballroom so long ago.

I would have given up the ghost, had it not been for the correspondence I had started with Hans. Even that had become a chore as of late, but it had given me something to do in my darkest days.

Not because it was tough. In fact, it became as simple and natural as breathing. I had become a very descriptive writer; any natural philosopher would be impressed at my self-description before putting me in a cage. As for Hans, he did have a sense of humour about himself I couldn't even imagine having. His wit shone through his letters, even if he was suffering something like I was. My writing to him had decreased recently, but I always looked forward to his stories of his home and abroad. Despite my oath not to feel, my heart used to soar in excitement when he regaled the stories of his exploits and travels, how he much preferred being a sailor to being a prince. At least one of us could change for the better. I often wondered how he felt about my whining. His life was so much more glamourous, intrepid and free. How I wished I could be beside him.

I wondered how he'd take this news. He'd probably show some irritation at the irresponsible choice to sail in winter, but he'd mostly be sympathetic. Not good enough, I wanted his genuine anger and other feelings, I'd had my fill of fake sympathies. Maybe someday, I could tell him about my powers too, maybe he'd find them appealing? But not today, I just can't, can't burden him with this.

And so, I wrote:

Dear Hans,

I hope a life at sea has treated you well so far, I remember you were so happy when you finally got a ship to command. I remember the name as well; the North Constellation wasn't it? Oh, that flagship of yours must be magnificent to see in person! I wish I could see it someday. As for me, you should know by now that a mundane note with a rare amusing anecdote means that I'm doing well. This is not one of those letters.

It has been a week since the funeral I didn't attend. Since then all I've done is avoid people, take a sharp turn if anyone approaches me for small talk. The phrase 'the king and queen are dead, long live the queen' rings heavier by the day in my ears. God I wish the day may never come when I truly must ascend to the purple, for the sheer prospect terrifies me. I haven't been sleeping, or eating very well this past week, though that can be explained I guess. The difference this time is that I'm feeling too many things at once, I have been feeling too much. My baby sister finally gave up, not that I blame her. I swear I'm king Midas in reverse, everything I touch turns worthless and unusable. I couldn't even stop my parents from sailing to their imminent doom. I knew it could happen, but they didn't listen, the lunatics. Those lunatics. They won't ever listen to anyone, why should I grieve for them now? They couldn't find common ground about me once, why would anyone expect them to have a solution? Bloody demented bats. I hate them. I hate how they treated my case, how they made me believe I was what I was. And yet...and yet, why did it have to be them? I wailed not because I was sad, I wept in derision, in frustration when I found out. The little sense of security, or even power that I had went with them. I still remember across the hall hearing Anna shout, 'Nobody is anything to her now! Not my father, my mother and certainly not me. Just existing in her bubble, god knows what she's concocting in there. Well, she's welcome to stay alone, I'm done!' I fashioned an ice dagger right then and there to plunge in my heart, but I stopped. I stopped when Anna came to my door to apologize. When she left and I recovered from the shock, I decided I would hold on till Anna gets settled somewhere. Someone she could have a happy life with. And then, I'll fade to white.

Thank you Hans, for listening to my story, however short it was. You pulled me through my darkest days, but this is different, I can't saddle this terrible burden on you. I set you free from the correspondence. Live long, fall in love and don't worry about me.

Yours Thankfully,

Elsa

Hans

It was a sombre and dismal mood in the castle, with my father the king being chief architect of said mood. You see, earlier that day, my father had to answer for the deaths of two of his own sons. Apparently, they were charged with treason and conspiracy against the crown. Number five and number six in the running. Leif and Gustav if you're curious about names. On my part, I could never imagine that Leif and Eric of all people would have the guts to do that. I remember then being poets and musicians; Leif could play the fiddle just like Vivaldi; he was a rambunctious sort who loved the outdoors. Loved the shade and could swing a tune with the best of them.

I don't know why I reminisced so much about Leif once he was gone; maybe it was instinctual, primal to remember the good times, but I couldn't find one moment when he was hostile towards me. Maybe the fact that we were separated by a gap of ten years made him protective, or least less of a bully to me. He knew there'd be no worthy fight there, so he just let me be, one of the few who did. He was a musician, an artist, the kind my father detested; according to him "The creative thought is the seed of defiance." What other reason would be to my father's actions, when Leif was captured in a different country, accused of lighting the flames of rebellion in the kingdom, deemed a traitor marked for execution after torture. Bless his poor soul, but the poor sod succumbed and died to torture. As for Gustav, well. That joker used to crack jokes and pull pranks all over. I enjoyed his shenanigans when I wasn't the butt of them. He didn't agree with how Leif was being treated , and despite everyone's warnings, thought of getting Leif out of father's custody, his great blaze of glory. Alas, he was shot dead before they could even recognize who it was.

Not that it affected my father, who had coldly disposed of their belongings, as if they never existed. Fewer people for him to care about.

I don't know why it affected me so; they were pleasant but distant. I guess living with them for so long would leave an impression. And now, they were gone.

I wish I'd known them better; it would at least have been entertaining. They were probably one of the good ones.

Whatever I felt about them, I knew I had to write to Elsa. She hadn't been doing so well two months ago, I just wanted to know that she was alright; losing her parents would not have helped one bit.

My conflicted feelings could wait, for now, her definite feelings needed acknowledgement.

Just then, her trusty messenger pigeon landed on the windowsill in my room. I practically sprinted towards the bird, tore open the envelope to read what was written. My heart sank like a stone when I read it.

Oh no! OH NO! This cannot be happening!

I had never panicked so severely in my whole life. I was so shocked I didn't bother with the quill this time. Just tore off a sheet, scribbled onto it with a charcoal pencil. I'm not terribly proud of what I wrote:

Hey Elsa,

What the hell happened to you?! What in god's name is going on in there? Don't do anything stupid. Remember the song we talked about long ago, the one about the lost sheep, the wolf, mother nature and the shepherd? The-the whatever the hell...yeah the sheep. Remember, you aren't the wolf, you are no predator, you aren't mother nature, you won't doom anyone. You are the lost sheep, trying to find your way home, have faith in the shepherd, do you understand! Please don't do anything someone could regret. God's sakes, girl. I lost a couple of my brothers I didn't even know very well they were that distant; I haven't been able to stop thinking about then for the last seventy-two hours. What is Anna going to feel if you do something unsavoury? I'm sorry for using improper words, but don't fucking do anything you can't come back from. Hold on in there, Els. Don't carry this alone, write to me more often please, I'm in the off season, I'll be at palace itself. I know you don't owe me anything, but please hold strong. I have nowhere else to turn to.

Don't do anything stupid, please don't. You mean a lot to me. I promise, I'll help you get better, I'll even give you a ride in my flagship, we're going to tour the world! I swear on my mother, I'll save you. I won't let you go down the way my brothers did.

Please let me help you. Please.

Yours in every moment of need,

Hans

This entry was so depressing, but I'm glad I wrote it through.

Well, the story's on it's way. Maybe they'll meet next time?

As always, constructive feedback is always welcome.