a/n: swearing ahead
Kissing him was like having the snow dragon's breath on her skin all over again.
Even if his lips were still soft, the coldness made her want to pull away almost immediately. It was like kissing iron.
But still, they kissed. Helena opened her eyes to peek, and his were closed. So trusting. She could count every freckle, see the faint scar near his eyebrow, the one he'd told her about during their so romantic walk through the rose garden.
Nothing was happening, and the Princess was getting anxious. His hair wasn't turning back and he was as cold as death.
Because you don't love him.
She pulled away, leaned her forehead against his for a few seconds. Oh, Anders. His eyes were still closed, with his brows raised up in confusion, his mouth slightly open, waiting for something that was not going to happen.
"Well. That was anticlimactic." She sighed and sat back, watching him, the glow of the fire reflecting his pale face. It was worth a try, she figured.
Now, it seemed, she'd have to do it the hard way. She felt a pang of regret, but it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. She had to do this.
"I don't understand," he said, his voice quiet, frail. "I don't understand," he said louder, almost like a growl. If he'd had the strength she was sure he would've jumped up and started pacing around.
"What is there to understand? You obviously don't love me," she said, feigning hurt. Time to turn the tables. She stood up and placed both hands on her hips, "After everything I did for your kingdom while you were away!"
"What? Helena! I do, I love you! You're—" he shivered violently, choking on his words. She resisted the urge to smile. When he managed to control himself, he whispered, "I love you."
Helena nodded curtly and leaned close to his face to see his every reaction, "I know you love me... but, Andy...if only there was someone out there who loved you."
His face was almost comical; all wide eyes and open mouth. Like he couldn't register her words.
"This world is cruel, Helena. And if you don't learn to play the game soon, you're going to lose," her sister Katherine's words echoed inside her head, "If you lose, you die."
She was not going to lose.
But Andy was.
• • •
"You— but— but you said... I thought—"
The thoughts were like smoke inside his head, they formed and vanished and he couldn't grasp one. Because Helena's words made no sense.
"Are you proposing to me, Anders?"
"Would it be crazy?"
"Would it be even crazier if I said yes?"
This time her laugh was cold, it cut like glass.
"I am thirteenth in line in my own kingdom. Astrid is young and—" she shrugged nonchalantly, and walked over to the window. "I didn't stand a chance to be Queen." She grabbed the two heavy drapes and pulled them closed, the only light left being the fireplace and the candle on the desk.
"I knew I'd have to marry into the throne somewhere," she stalked around like a cat. Andy could barely move, but he tried to follow her every step with his head and eyes. "I have claim to nothing but the title 'Princess' tacked to the front of my name."
"What are you talking about?" Andy felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as Helena walked behind him, pulling off the glove on her right hand. She licked her thumb and index finger, and put out the candle with a soft hiss.
And suddenly Helena was not the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen anymore. Her eyes were a viper's, her words were poison, and he had fell for every single one. The icy hand in his heart now twisted it, like a knife.
"Elliott was the heir, so he was my first choice, but your brother was such a freak! No one was getting anywhere with him," she stood in front of him once again, a calm, cocky expression on her face, "Do you remember Lucille Westergard?"
Andy's slowly freezing heart clenched painfully, "Traitorous Crow?"
Helena laughed that cruel laugh again, one that did not and should not belong to her, "Is that what you call my poor cousin? She was in a similar situation to mine. But Lucille has always been an ambitious little bitch." Just like you, Andy thought darkly. "But she miscalculated, and left you for your recluse brother. By doing that, she lost both of you!
"But I'm smarter than Lucille. You were the real prize, Andy. You were so desperate for love, you were willing to marry me just like that!" she snapped her fingers and shook her head, smirking. "Didn't your parents ever warn you about strangers?"
A blonde girl did, once, while traveling through dark woods...
Elliott did. Elliott tried to... if he'd had the energy, or the will to keep going, he would have slapped himself.
"Helena..."
"Ah. Don't answer that question, love, they obviously didn't," she walked over to the table and picked up the pitcher of water. She walked over to the fireplace, still chatting away, "Anyway, after we were married, I figured I'd have to stage a little accident for Elliott. My sister Rowena is rather gifted at brewing poison," she dumped the contents of the pitcher on the fireplace, putting it out with a loud hiss and lots of steam. "Or perhaps a hunting trip gone wrong! The possibilities of how the King would perish were endless, really."
With the fire doused he had no extra heat or anything but the crystal around his neck to keep him warm, Andy felt his condition becoming ten times worse, his body getting even colder. Not to mention his mental health.
I'm going to strangle her, Andy decided right then. With hidden strength he did not know he had, he struggled off the sofa— only to fall and land on the soft carpet, unable to get up. He clawed at the floor, trying to get to her.
A surge of General Winter—like strength gave his voice conviction, "You fucking—"
She tsked and kicked him in the ribs with the point of her boot, "No interrupting, sweetling." It wasn't hard enough to really hurt, but he did gasp, which was still very humiliating mostly for his ego.
"As I was saying... then your monster brother doomed himself!" she set the empty pitcher down and looked down at him, "And you were dumb enough to go after him. And look what happened," her voice was mock—pity as she gestured at his hair.
She titled her head in a way he might have once found adorable but now the sight made him sick, "Did you know I went to look for you, after your horse returned without you?"
"Eh?" Andy was still busy trying to move from the floor, but the task was impossible. She stepped over his swatting arms and sat down on her heels so they were at eye—level.
"I went to the ice palace with a small escort. Your monster brother killed two good men."
Andy stared at her, peering at her through the darkness of the room. He could see the smirk on her lips, the cruel glint in her eyes, craving his reaction. She was trying to provoke him.
He thought of little Elliott, who broke his arm trying to get the cat Sprinkles to come down from a tree once. Elliott who voiced out random, seemingly useless facts about squirrels and other things he'd read on books. His gentle older brother who sobbed for hours when they had to put down his favorite horse because it got an infection.
Elliott, who probably completed Andy's snowman's from the window above the courtyard with his magic even if he had not known it at the time. He knew he wasn't going crazy when he'd turn around and the snowman was completed, or those random I love you's in the snow his mother claimed she wrote. It was all Elliott's doing, he knew it.
"Elliott is many things," he said, with surprising calm, "but a murderer is not one of them. Also he's not a liar like you."
"You're so loyal, you're like a dog. It's pathetic," by not giving a reaction, her pretty little face transformed into an ugly scowl. He'd caught her lie at least, but the small victory didn't last long. She raised her eyebrows, and in a swift movement she ripped the fire crystal from his neck. "What is this?"
"It's mine," he made a feeble attempt to snatch it back, but she stepped away easily. She threw it to the fireplace, now without a fire, to the still warm coals. The crystal glowed faintly.
"You won't be needing it, love." Again she sat on her heels in front of him and lifted his chin up to look into her eyes, "I'd love to stay and chat a little more, but I have an Ice King to kill and a summer to bring back."
He jerked his head away and glared daggers at her, "You're no match for Elliott," he snarled, remembering the Blizzard Dragon, the Meltlings, the ice spikes...
She laughed softly, almost sweetly, "No. You're no match for Elliott. If you're not a popsicle by the time I'm back, perhaps I'll show you your brother's head, if you like." At his face of horror, she laughed once again and fanned her face, "Sorry, sorry, that came out a little too Cristina." She stood up, prepared to take her leave. "You and your brother will finally have something in common," she said brightly, as she grabbed the handle of the door, "A frozen heart."
For lack of anything better to say, and because he was starting to get the worst case of brain freeze, he blurted out, "You won't get away with this."
"Oh, sweetie," she yanked open the door, "I already have," she said haughtily, and she shut the door behind her, the click of the lock making something inside him snap.
The door hadn't even finished closing and Andy had already launched himself at it in a fit of rage, trembling and banging the door weakly, "No! No, no, no!"
With a shudder and a sudden chill, he could practically feel the last of his hair turn white.
He slumped against the door, trying to wrap his cloak tighter around himself. The prince closed his eyes.
And he thought of open doors...
• • •
It had been taxing, pulling off the thing with Andy. Helena was exhausted, and a little annoyed. Whose stupid idea was it that only an act of true love could thaw a frozen heart? Why not the high—five of friendship, or the pat in the head of companionship?
Had the boy's heart unfroze she would have had the priest there in a second and had them married. Then accuse the King of treason, and execute him, and hopefully stop the winter that way.
And she would have been queen.
As always, things had to be done the hard way.
She approached the council chamber, where the Duchess' snotty voice could be heard.
"It's getting colder by the minute. If we don't do something soon, we'll all freeze to death!"
Helena took a deep breath and stood outside the door, mentally preparing herself for what had to be done next. Out of the thirteen, Sophia had always been the actress. Her manipulation and fake crying and fake happiness and fake everything were topnotch. The 7th princess of the Southern Isles had married into a rich noble family mostly by acting. So Helena had learned from the best.
She stumbled in, gasping for breath. Warm tears streamed down her face.
"Princess!"
"My lady!"
Everyone's attention went to her immediately. The fresh tears blurred her vision, so she couldn't see who it was that grabbed her elbow and gently led her to a chair. Someone was rubbing slow circles on her back, which she did not appreciate, but whatever. Comforting hands were laid on her shoulder and they let her cry.
Hey, Sophia, is this a ten out of ten or what?
"Sweet Princess, what's wrong? What happened?" the Duchess' beady eyes peered at her, full of concern.
"A—Andy... Prince Andy, he's... he's—" Helena's shoulders shook as she tried to control her sobs. Okay, tone it down a bit, "He's dead!"
The collective gasp in the room was music to her ears. A man swore in his native language, and the Duchess squealed like a startled pig. Helena forced the corner of her mouth down, as it was threatening to go up in a side smile.
"What happened to him?" the Spanish man asked.
"He was killed by King Elliott," she sniffled, suddenly not so proud of all the flawless fake crying. It was going to make her makeup run and make her look like a raccoon.
"¿Qué? His own brother?" the man looked shocked.
"Yes... the King froze his insides, and he burst like—like—" she tried to make wild gestures with her hands, and let out a little sob. "That's why his hair had turned white...little ice shards everywhere... and then those melted and—" she shook her head and shut her eyes tightly. That part was necessary. She did not need someone to be like, hey, let's go check the body! Better they believe there was nothing left worth looking at.
"You don't have to describe it, sweet child, it's alright," the Duchess took her hand in her bony one, and Helena resisted the urge to smack it away.
"A—At least we got to say our marriage vows, before he—before—," the heartbroken sob she let out would've made Sophia proud, she knew it. She covered her face with her hands, finally letting the smile that was itching to spread over her lips show, nobody could see it.
"There is no doubt now," she heard the Duchess of Sandlane say to the dignitaries. "King Elliott is a monster and we're all in grave danger!"
"My lady," the Spanish man said. Helena looked up at him, her mask of grief back on her face. "Prince Andy left you in charge, sí? Arendelle looks to you."
Until you find someone with a better claim.
She had to act fast.
"It pains me so, my lords, my lady," she nodded gravely at the men and at the Duchess. "But..." she swallowed, took a big breath through her nose, "With a heavy heart, I charge King Elliott of Arendelle with treason and sentence him to attend trial for his crimes."
And then he'll be sentenced to death.
• • •
Sadness swirled within him like the snow gathering strength outside.
Elliott remembered, long ago when he'd been young and afraid— well, more so than now— he'd wished he had a brother more like himself.
Maybe not someone with ice powers, perhaps—though those would have been welcome, but just... more like him. Where he was good at sports, Andy made any excuse humanly possible to avoid them. Where he studied geometry and knew it almost religiously, Andy claimed he was deathly allergic to all numbers and forms of math. Elliott's room had been clean and neat, while his little brother's had been an explosion.
Times like those, he'd wished for a brother more like him.
Now, though... now he would give anything to just have that brother back, safe and sound.
After a tidal wave of self—loathing for himself, and brooding for quite a long time, Elliott settled to watch in fascination as his out—of—control emotions transformed his cell.
Frost and spikes decorated the ceiling, and his chains were covered in a thick layer of the stuff. He suspected a strong thrust could break them, brittle as they had become. The floor had a solid layer of ice in it, making it a tiny ice rink. The stone walls complained against the load, cracking and crunching under the weight of all the ice.
There's no way I can win, it's over for me, Elliott reflected sullenly as he stared out at the storm, which was about ten times worse. The fact that the Princess had not come back spoke volumes, and Elliott could only assume the worst.
But... and he thought of his little brother. With his jests and smiles, always laughing. How he would not turn his back on Elliott, even if the rest of the world had. Even if Elliott himself had. I wish I had been there for him long ago.
Andy could be out there in the middle of the mess he'd caused. He resisted the urge to go back to his destructive mantra of conceal, don't feel. What was there to conceal? How could he hope to stop feeling the despair, the hopelessness, the crippling fear? Those feelings were out, they'd been all let out on that cold mountain with only the stars to witness it, but now they were slowly coming back.
"... he's dangerous," a voice said from somewhere outside his cell. The walls were weakening, so that's how he figured the sounds reached him; through the cracks. The scrape of boots on stone and the murmuring of men followed. "Move quickly and seize him at once..."
That horrible feeling of being trapped came back to him, just like he'd got on the ice palace. They were coming for him. He pulled at the shackles savagely, ignoring the sharp pain on his shoulder and arm that the action caused. The wound would reopen if he continued, but he cared not, he had to get away.
If you don't fight, you can't win, a the tiny part of him that still wanted to survive whispered.
The sound of cracking made his heart leap to his throat.
The weight of the ice crumbled the walls with a massive crash, and so the wall was blown open.
• • •
The ugly metal shackles lay broken and frozen on the floor.
Helena pushed over the guards and made her way to the front, her hands clenching into fists. He got away, he got away.
Only a huge gaping hole remained, the white of the landscape outside all there was to see.
She'd placed him in that custom-made dungeon for a reason, it had looked like it was made to hold the likes of Elliott. She thought her parents had been shitty— but Elliott's had been just flat out cruel with those shackles down there.
The Princess didn't realize she'd been scowling deeply until the guard beside her cleared his throat uncomfortably. She immediately wiped her face clear of emotion.
"What do we do now, my lady?"
"Stay put," she placed a gloved hand on the hilt of her sword, "I shall look for the King."
++++ you may not remember 'traitorous crow,' but she was one of Andy's ex-girlfriends that kinda went for elliott instead of him. i think she's mentioned in for the first time in forever chap, not sure tho
+++ reprise of life's too short here, too, u should def listen to that outtake song. also bits and pieces from the book "a sister more like me" that book's where this story's title is taken from
++ two things from Hans that bothered me- like, how did no one think to check anna's body? and excuse me elsa was still the QUEEN he couldnt just like sentence her to death like that?
+ i know i said helena maybe wouldn't be as bad as hans... but who were we kidding. she's too fun to write as a baddie
thank you for reading!:) reviews make my dayy
completely unrelated- THE FROZEN DVD CAME OUT I ALREADY GOT MY COPY IM SO HAPPYYYGJKSDKFHDFA