NOTE: Ugh, this small little story I had in mind has really taken on a life of it's own. As far as I know, or at least I hope, there will only be one more chapter after this one. Seriously, I love this arch, but I need to wrap it up and start on something fun! All these feels I've been writing since mid December are really getting to me. I need to prove that I can write funny and sweet things to, not just just rip-my-heart-out-with-a-spoon stories!
It wasn't as if she wanted to wake up, sleeping for eternity sounded like paradise, but her body wouldn't take no for an answer. Behind the closed curtain of her eyes her fevered dreams clung to her like a drunken lover. She could see two luminescent green orbs looking down at her, a kind face emerging from a sea of pain and grief. Elsa reached for the specter but he dissolved the moment she shifted, disappearing into the gray darkness like a wraith. Slowly, Elsa rose out of the embrace of sleep like a body rising to the surface of a stagnant lake, head pounding and body aching. She immediately knew she wasn't in her room by the smell and temperature. Her room remained constantly cool and smelled of morning frost and arctic air. This room was warm and smelled like wood smoke and dust. Opening her eyes fractionally, her vision swam and Elsa groaned, putting a hand over her eyes and nearly screaming at the unexpected pain that lanced through her hand.
"Damnit," she hissed and lifted her hands into the light. Cotton bandages had been wrapped around both, each finger painstakingly covered in salve and wrapped snugly. When she attempted to bend her fingers white hot pain flared and she ground her teeth, stomach rolling uneasily.
Using her elbow to jack herself into a sitting position, Elsa felt the constriction of bandages scattered across her body and threw back the covers to investigate. She'd been dressed in a loose white nightgown, thin and soft as silk, but through the material she could see the bumps and lumps of bandages. Gingerly she lifted her nightgown and stared stupidly at the bloody gauze patches, mind working to understand why they were there. She looked like those people from her books who were wrapped in ceremonial cloth to preserve the body after their death. Long swaths of red speckled cloth wound around her legs and crept up her thighs. Her torso was one massive patch, not a hint of skin showing anywhere. The bindings continued up her chest and down her arms, stopping at her wrists only to begin again around her hands. Dumbfounded, Elsa shifted and gasped, skin alive with fire. What had happened? Why was she here and not in her…
The memory came racing back at her like a cannon ball. She'd been in the dining hall waiting on Anna when Kai had come in. He'd announced that her parents had been killed at sea, a squall taking them earlier the previous day. Elsa remembered seeing the pained and confused look on Anna's face, remembered feeling the frost creeping up her arms even while she wore her gloves, and remembered the pleading command from Kai to run. And run she had. Right into her room just seconds before her power broke through her defenses and wreaked havoc on her room. It all seemed so long ago, like years had passed, but judging from how fresh the blood was on her bandages it couldn't have been more than a few hours.
"It's good to see you awake, Majesty."
Elsa jumped and felt a fresh wave of cold spark against the bandages of her left palm and swore, clapping her hands to her chest.
"Forgive me, I didn't mean to startle you," Gerda said quickly getting up from her chair in front of the fire and walking over to the young queen. Elsa allowed the service matron to take her left hand and examine it. Lips pursed, Gerda unbound the bandages around Elsa's palm and sighed. The queen's skin was shinny and raw and the service matron could see new blooms of blood pooling at the center of her palm. Elsa stared at her hand as well, not at all surprised to see it like this, but still shocked at the state of her skin. It was like she'd been burned.
"I have to add some more poultice," the service matron said catching the queen's eye. Elsa nodded woodenly, staring out the dark window to her left while Gerda worked. Once finished, the service matron rebound the young queen's hand and stood, hands clasped in front of her. Elsa knew Gerda was giving her the servant's stance, hands folded in front and head bowed, and sighed.
Ever the dutiful servant even in the wake of all that's happened.
"Thank you, Gerda. You may retire to your quarters now."
That didn't seem to be what the service matron wanted to hear and she ducked her head even more, shoulders tight. "Forgive me, Majesty, but I do not think it would be wise if you were left alone."
"I'm sorry?" Elsa said with a frown.
"I do not think it wise you were alone, Highness."
The young queen felt a sudden flush of anger work into her cheeks. Of course she wanted to be alone, why the hell wouldn't she? Her room was proof enough that it was best she remain alone for the rest of her life less she accidently kill someone. Why was that so hard for people to grasp? She was dangerous! She was a weapon without a master, a loose cannon whizzing through the air looking for a wayward target to crash into. Ten years ago she'd crashed into her sister and nearly killed her, nearly snuffed out a light with just the flick of the wrist. Her parents had had the right idea about cloistering her away, so why did everyone else in the castle, Anna especially, insist on trying to get close to her?
"Please leave, Gerda," Elsa said in a quiet voice. The service matron swallowed but remained in place, posture as passive as always but determination shinning in her downcast eyes.
"I'm sorry, Majesty but I—"
"Leave, Gerda."
"No, Highness," Gerda said in a hushed whisper, chin to her chest. When she raised her head to glance at the queen, Elsa was shocked to see tears welling in the slender woman's eyes. She'd never seen Gerda cry, didn't even know it was possible for her to, but Elsa's shock was quickly replaced by anger.
Don't you dare cry over me, the young queen seethed. Monsters don't get that luxury. We're not deserving of pity or love.
"I said get out!"
"No."
Elsa thrashed at the thin sheets covering her lower body and swung her feet over the edge, eyes burning with cold rage. She had every intention of physically throwing the infuriating woman out of the room, but her body was having none of it. The moment her full weight rested on her legs, Elsa's knees gave out and she stumbled forward, crashing into the wall left shoulder first. The sudden collision woke many bruises and cuts that had until this moment been silent and she cried out, sinking to the floor. Gerda moved swiftly to help her stand but Elsa swatted her away, embarrassment and anger warring across her face.
"Don't…don't touch me. Just, please get out."
Gerda stepped back but didn't make for the door, instead turning so that she wasn't looking at the queen, sparing her the indignity of someone watching her while she struggled to stand. Eventually Elsa was able to pull herself up using the bed as a support. She was breathing heavily by the end of it and sweating, but the accomplishment left her with mixed feelings. Yes she'd stood on her own without aid from anyone, but she was still so goddamned infuriatingly weak. It was the realization of this weakness that brought the tears back and she hiccupped a sob, bandaged hand over her mouth.
How am I ever going to rule this kingdom if I can't even stand on my own? Papa never showed weakness. Even when grandfather passed away when Anna and I were young he never cried, never stopped being the king. How will I ever fill his shoes?
This time when Gerda approached, Elsa allowed herself to be helped. The service matron looped an arm around the queen's waist for added support and guided her to one of the large wingback chairs set before the fireplace. Elsa collapsed into the comfortable cushions, cheeks shinning with tears. Gerda knelt in front of the young queen and gently rubbed away the moisture with a soft cloth, knowing if she left them there the tears would freeze.
"It's alright to feel, Highness," Gerda said in a soft voice.
Elsa snorted contemptuously, eyes locked on the fire. "Ruling monarchs don't get the luxury of feeling anything, especially grief."
"That's not true," Gerda said sitting back on her knees. "Every human being feels sadness and expresses it differently, but we have to express it. Grieving is a natural thing, Highness. It's how we heal after a great loss, like putting a salve on a burn," Gerda gently took one of Elsa's hands in her own. "To not feel it, to push the feelings away because they hurt too much or because they're inconvenient means that you won't heal and will bear open wounds for years."
For half a heartbeat Elsa believed the service matron. There was so much truth to her words, so much love and openness it was hard not to, but the reality of the young queen's situation was that she couldn't let herself feel these powerful emotions. She couldn't ever let herself fall that deeply into any emotion ever again for fear of losing control of her power. That's what it all came down to, control. Elsa was in control when her emotions were kept under lock and key, when she pushed aside normal human feelings and slipped her mask back in place.
Conceal, don't feel. Don't let it show.
That's what she had to do, what she would do, from now until her inevitable death. She would pull herself up by her boot straps, dust herself off, and continue on because that's what queens did. They had to be strong while others around them were weak. They had to be the pillars of their kingdoms, strong and resolute regardless of what they were feeling inside.
Elsa took a deep breath that began at the tips of her toes and finished at the top of her head. She held it for a three count then let the air rush out taking her anxiety, her fears, her grief and anything that wasn't cool neutrality with it. Her mask fell into place like a well-worn glove. It was a subtle transformation and to anyone not paying attention they wouldn't have seen it. Elsa was anything if not a capable actress, falling into her role as if it were a second skin, but Gerda saw the shift and felt her heart sink into her stomach.
No, she wanted to scream at the queen. Don't bottle this up. Let it go.
"Thank you for your help, Gerda," Elsa said a little too woodenly, her eyes a little to brittle. "If you have the strength, please help me back into bed. I think rest is what I need more than anything right now."
Gerda nodded and rose numbly, helping the young queen back across the room to the large four poster bed. Elsa slid under the covers and promptly turned away from the service matron, shifting onto her left side where the burns and cuts weren't as bad.
"Is there anything else I can get you, Majesty," Gerda asked in a small voice.
"No, thank you. I'll call if I need you."
The dismissal was gentle but Gerda couldn't help but feel like a door had just been slammed in her face. Sighing quietly, she dipped into a shallow curtsey and made for the door. Before stepping over the threshold, the service matron turned one last time.
"Your father cried at your grandfather's funeral. He waited until he was alone at the gravesite after you, your sister and mother had left. He wanted to be strong as well, to be the pillar, but he knew when to let go. Good night, Highness."
Gerda shut the door with a metallic click and leaned her forehead against the cool wood grain. For just a brief moment she thought she heard sobbing coming from the other side but couldn't be sure. Heavy hearted, the service matron walked away leaving her queen, the girl she'd helped raise from birth who had been forced to grow up far too fast, to her grief. She sent a silent prayer skyward that Elsa would find peace, that her heart would heal and that the family would remain strong in the face of such devastating circumstances. With no indication God had heard, Gerda clung to hope and faith because that was all she had to grasp at the moment.