WARNING

This story contains character deaths, sexual themes, graphic violence, swearing, trigger themes and psychological themes.

Please read at your own discretion

CHAPTER 3

Southern Isles
19th Augo, 391

Dear Anna,

How are you? Are you eating well? Are you sleeping well? Have you received my letters? Of course you won't. What was I even thinking about when I decided to write you these letters? They always end up just piling beneath my feet, sometimes they get swapped out by the attendants of that man. I am well aware that my hopeful letters to you are being opened and checked by the people of this mansion. They do not want me gone. They do not want me saying anything about what dirty activities go on in this…demonic house. Nobody here is on my side. Well maybe there are a few of them, but they are much too afraid of the Viscount to step forward and help me escape.

Life here is difficult. It is always a struggle for survival. Every day I can't help but wonder what abuse I would be subject to this time. I can't help but count the days of my survival…the days I would still be alive. Thinking about you gives me comfort and gives me great pain at the same time, knowing I might not be able to see your face. I wouldn't be able to hear your laugh, or see your smile. And yet, thinking about you fuels me with hope and the want to escape my rotten reality.

I know that you will not be receiving this letter. Perhaps this too, will be burned at his fireplace, or crumpled up and thrown to the mud where the pigs sleep. I am foolish for trying to reach out to you even though my efforts are futile. However, I can't help but hope that one day…at least one of my letters will be able to find their way to you.

Always thinking of you,
Elsa

Jack stood before the tall mirror in his bedroom, getting ready for his visit to the Bjorgman mansions. The warm morning light filtering through his opened windows. His valet moved deftly around him, smoothing out the fine and intricate lines of his waistcoat, making sure each button gleamed like it was polished silver. For the past two weeks, Jack has been visiting the emotionally detached Lady Elsa Arendelle, trying his best to strike up small conversations with her. To the normal noble, it might seem like he isn't enjoying his time, but Jack finds his conversations with Elsa quite…enjoyable.

The valet adjusted his cravat, the crisp white fabric folding neatly under his practiced hands. Jack's expression was calm and composed, but underneath, he was brimming with excitement. A slight trace of anticipation flickered in his eyes as he looked at his reflection in the mirror. He couldn't wait to meet her again—Elsa. It was strange to him, how much intrigue she gave him. Even though she answers only in yes or no, Jack finds it quite…soothing to be with her.

The air in his bedroom carried the faint scent of bergamot and leather. Jack glanced at the pocket watch resting on a nearby mahogany table, it was etched with real gold and some silver adornments. He was on a tight schedule, as always, but he could feel the excitement of the visit vibrate in his nerves.

Elsa was a woman of few words, only ever conversing with him, just like what Madam Bjorgman had told him weeks before. On the first day, Jack observed Elsa's interactions with her maids and her sister, patiently waiting for any sort of interaction. But there was nothing. Not a glance, not a word—not even a simple acknowledgement. She just stares outside the window of her room with a distant gaze.

Jack's dark riding boots clicked softly against the marble floor as he stepped down. He donned his tailored frock coat—a deep navy hue accented by gold embroidery along the cuffs and lapels. He turned to the valet, giving him a curt nod of approval.

"Your grace, the postman has come with a letter." Jamie, his aide, walked into the open room holding an envelope.

"Put it on the table." Jack answered, casting one last glance at the mirror. His lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile.

"Aren't you going to read it?" Jamie asked cautiously, earning a curt no from Jack. "Leave it be." He said, boots clacking on the marble floor as he walked out of his bedroom. Jamie followed behind him, a confused look on his face.

"How odd," he mumbled.

Jack paused, turning around to look at Jamie with a raised eyebrow. "What is?"

"By now you would have already dealt with the letter, but you're strangely leaving it be."

Jack shrugged before turning back around and making his way through the extravagant corridors of the Duchy. "The letter from that woman can wait."

"How did you even know it was from her?"

A low chuckle escaped Jack's mouth as he turned to a corner with Jamie lagging behind him. "Who else would send me such an extravagant letter?" Jack nodded his head at the letter in Jamie's hands.

The envelope was a rich cream color, the texture faintly embossed with swirling patterns and the edges were gilded with fine gold leaf. It caught the light of the sun and shimmered an opulent glow. At the center was an intricate wax seal that held the flap shut securely—a deep crimson imprint of a crest. A faint scent of jasmine and cedarwood clung to the envelope—possibly, the paper—it was subtle but unmistakable.

Jamie agreed silently, nodding his head, though it was only for his own. He casted his master a small glance, gaze all knowing. "Are you going to meet that lady again?" He guessed.

Jack paused for a moment, before continuing down the corridors. The silence alone confirmed Jamie's guess. "Are you crazy?" He scowled. "May I remind you that you are engaged."

"I know." Jack nodded, fully aware of his situation.

Jamie massaged his temples as he followed Jack from behind through winding corridors and down the grand staircase. "You know and you're still going to meet with a Lady who doesn't have a clear identity in North Pacifica?"

Jack frowned, unamused at his aide's strong reaction. "She's a princess, watch what you're saying."

"A princess of a fallen kingdom!" Jamie bellowed, looking at Jack insolently from behind him. But Jack remained unbothered.

"A princess nonetheless, Jamie."

Jamie ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "I don't think you understand that the princess has no title in North Pacifica!"

Jack shook his head and stepped out of the mansion, making his way towards the stationed carriage waiting for him to board. "She is still a princess and we will treat her as such." Jack continued, stepping into the carriage and looking at his aide with a serious expression on his face, his lips pressed firmly together, indicating that he was serious about this. And Jamie knew well enough not to press and argue further.

"I apologize for making you do this, your grace." Madam Bjorgman walked inside the sitting room with a shamed expression on her face. Jack smiled at her and shook his head. For the last two weeks, she had been receiving him into their mansion with open arms whilst also taking the time to constantly apologize to him every two minutes.

Jack flashed the ashamed lady with a thoughtful smile as he greeted her with a bow. "You have nothing to worry about, Madam Bjorgman. This was something I willingly did, so you don't have to apologize to me."

Anna gave him a warm smile, her eyes weary and laced with sadness—and perhaps, envy—as she took him to her sister's bedroom. Jack felt conflicted as he watched Madam Bjorgman's expression change. He felt guilty for being the only one who can converse with the elusive Lady Elsa Arendelle. He wished to say something to lighten up the mood, but he couldn't think of anything to say at all. He wondered if Anna felt…envious—of course she would be.

"Wha—what do you and my sister talk about?" Anna asked cautiously, giving Jack a long side glance. Their eyes locked and Jack could see the desperation swirling in her irises, as if begging to tell her something. "Does she talk about what happened to her in the Southern Isles?"

Jack shook his head, an apologetic expression on his face. He wished he could tell her the things she really wanted to hear, but so far, there was nothing of importance during their conversations. "Lady Elsa would only respond with a simple yes or no before. But she's slowly forming small sentences. Our conversations don't really have any…important information. But it's more like small talk."

Anna nodded her head in disappointment. "Of course, it would be too soon right?"

Jack didn't want to say anything, but he did think it would be too soon for her to share such a deep and traumatic memory. He knew that all too well. All too well.

They came to halt in front of a grand door of Elsa's chambers, their footsteps fading into the tick silence of the corridor. Two knights guard the lady's room, making sure that nobody would be able to get in or out freely from her room. The heavy oak door loomed before them, its surface polished like a mirror. Intricate carvings of snowflakes frame its edges, adorning the wood with its beauty.

Jack watched as Madam Anna rested her gloved hand lightly on the doorknob, her fingers hesitant. What could it be? Jack thought. Could she be afraid? Nervous? He didn't know. Anna glanced at Jack, her expression unreadable save for the flicker of concern that lingered in her blue eyes.

"Please take care of my sister again today, your grace." She said, her voice low, barely carrying in the still air.

Jack's gaze lingered on the door for a moment longer, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he could see through the layers of wood. His lips were pressed into a thin line before curling up to flash Anna a reassuring smile.

"Shall we?" He asked at last.

Anna nodded, her movements deliberate as though preparing herself. They exchanged a final glance—hers tinged with uncertainty, his with restrained determination—before the door groaned softly.

Jack searched for the woman he was meeting and landed on her petite figure sitting near the window in a high-backed chair upholstered in rich cream fabric. Her posture was elegant—but it was distant. Her hands rested lightly on her lap, fingers intertwined, staying still. Her gaze was fixed somewhere outside—beyond the garden—unfocused and far away as if she was looking through the landscape rather than at it.

Jack took one step while Anna stayed behind, her gaze trained on her sister, an expression of hurt clouding her eyes. The morning light poured into the room through tall, arched windows framed by sheer lace curtains. The light softened as it filtered through, casting delicate patterns on the pale blue walls and the marble floor. A faint breeze stirred the curtains, making them billow like gentle whispers of movement in the still room.

He took one last glance at Anna who gave him a small nod before closing the doors shut.

"Hello." Jack greeted her, still standing up.

Elsa did not respond. Her face was serene, but her eyes—distant and glassy—avoided the presence of anybody in the room. She refused to meet their gaze or acknowledge a voice. Jack walked closer, lowering himself down on the chair on the opposite side of where Elsa was sitting down.

He's been in this room many, many times before now. Sometimes he sat here for hours just basking in the quietness of the moment. By now he had memorized her room and etched every nook, every crevice, in his mind. Elsa's room was an oasis of femininity and refinement. A four-poster bed stood against one wall, its canopy draped in soft, gentle layers of baby blue colored silk.

There was a small writing desk near the corner that held an assortment of quills, inkpots, and unopened letters, their edges slightly curled from the humidity. Jack could see how that part of the room was untouched and unfavored. It seemed like everything there was brand new. His eyes trailed on the vases of fresh flowers—roses, lavenders, lilies—adorned the surfaces, their fragrance faint but persistent, mingling with the crisp morning air in the still room.

Jack stayed quiet, his eyes observing his surroundings. The lady's untouched breakfast tray sat on a side table, the tea long gone cold, and the bread was barely nibbled. There was a book lying abandoned on the floor beside her chair, its pages slightly splayed, as if she'd dropped it mid-read without a single care.

"Hello." Jack said again, this time louder.

He waited for her response, gazing at her serene face as she shifted her attention away from the garden and onto him. Jack's breath caught as he locked eyes with her.

"Hello."

Her voice was soft, ringing in Jack's ears as she acknowledged him slowly. He flashed her a thoughtful smile and removed his gloves, placing them gingerly on the table in front of them.

"It's a fine morning," he began, his tone was casual yet measured. "The gardens outside are quite lovely this time of year. Have you noticed the roses?"

Elsa removed her gaze from him and let it fixed outside the window. Jack always wondered what she was looking at. Her fingers toyed absently with the hem of her sleeve. Jack tilted his head slightly, studying her as though he was studying a cryptic painting.

"Do you enjoy the roses?" He asked, hoping for a single answer.

"Yes," she murmured faintly, the word almost carried away by the breeze wafting through the open window.

Encouraged by her reply, Jack continued to speak. "Do you often sit here in the mornings?" he ventured.

Elsa's head turned slightly towards his direction, but her eyes did not meet his. After an excruciatingly long pause—longer than how Jack preferred—she gave a quiet, "No."

He leaned in slightly, elbows on his legs, considering her patiently and curiously. "Have you been well?" he asked gently, his voice softening.

This time, Elsa didn't respond at all. Instead, her gaze dropped to her lap, her hands going still, as if she were bracing herself against the weight of Jack's sudden question. Jack felt a pang in his chest at the sight of her. It was like he was standing before a locked door, one that had been left unguarded yet remained firmly closed.

She wasn't indifferent to him—he could notice that much at least. It seemed like she was open to having a conversation with him, but she doesn't respond to anybody else. Not even her own sister.

The silence stretched between them like a taut thread, and Jack sighed inwardly. With a lighter tone this time, he tried again. "Should I bring you a book from the library? Do you enjoy reading?"

She looked at him then, her eyes meeting his own for the briefest of moments. They were blue—too blue—that held too much depth for him to understand.

"Sometimes," she said, her voice was louder this time.

"Is there anything you would like me to do for you?" he asked, at last, his voice was sincere—hopeful, that she might tell him something.

He watched as her lips parted, but no sound came out. After a long moment, Elsa turned back toward the window, her silence speaking louder than any refusal. No…it was screaming at him. Jack sat there, a quiet frustration bubbling in his chest. It's not like he was annoyed at the situation.

No, that was entirely wrong.

Jack just wanted to understand her. He wanted to break through her guarded, tall walls. He wanted to let her know that he was there for her. To talk. And perhaps, Elsa knew that. Jack doesn't know, he could only guess.

It seemed like Jack was experiencing it all over again. That small memory etched in his brain, something he wanted to forgive and forget. He knows this will wear him down someday, but he wanted to help her. Yet he also knew that futility of trying to force open a door that only Elsa could choose to unlock.

For now, all Jack could do was remain—there—in her world of quiet walls…and hope that someday, she will unlock her door and let him in.

Anna sat on the edge of a settee, her thoughts tangled, and fingers gripping the edge of a delicate porcelain teacup. Across from her sat the Duke on an upholstered chair, teacup on the table, untouched and cold.

"She answered you today too?" Anna asked.

Jack inclined his head. "Yes, though only briefly. She replied to my questions, but only when they needed simple answers. Mostly she…" He hesitated, searching for the right words. "...watched the world beyond her window, as if she was waiting for something."

Anna's chest tightened at his words, her mind raced. She spoke to him? Truly? It was a flicker of hope Anna dared not to entertain. For two long years, her sister had retreated into a shell of silence, never acknowledging people. And yet, when it was in front of the Duke, she had answered him.

"What did she say?" she asked quickly, unable to stop herself. Her voice betrayed a tremor of both curiosity and apprehension. This was a question she would usually ask the Duke after his conversations with her sister, but two weeks wasn't much. And certainly, their conversations weren't much either.

"She admitted to enjoying the roses," Jack said with a faint smile, "and mentioned she doesn't often sit by the window in the mornings. Small details, but…" He trailed off, his gaze distant. "They felt rather significant."

Anna looked down on her teacup, her thoughts in a jumble. She had always thought about it. Why him? Why now? Elsa's silence had become a shadow, a constant in their house. She'd tried everything to coax her out—gentle conversations, gifts, childhood memories, music—but all of her efforts had fallen short. And yet here he was. This man, a near-stranger, who had managed to elicit a few words from Elsa. He was the first one to hear her sister's voice, the only one allowed to.

And it hurt.

"I don't understand," she murmured, more to herself than to the duke. "She hasn't spoken to me like that in…well, in ages."

Jack leaned forward slightly, his expression softening. "Perhaps she needs someone outside her immediate and direct world. A fresh presence perhaps? Unburdened by…whatever hurtful memories that keep her bound."

Anna swallowed hard, his words were uncomfortably and strikingly close to her own fears. Am I part of the reason why Elsa remains locked in…silence? She had always assumed her presence brought Elsa comfort—solace—but perhaps it also served as a reminder of what Elsa had gone through. What she had lost.

"Do you think she might…" Her voice faltered, but she pressed on. "Do you think she might open up more if you keep asking? If you returned?"

Jack considered her suggestion, his brow furrowing slightly. "It is possible. We've tried this for two weeks, progress is slow. She seems…guarded. As if she's afraid to let anyone get too close."

Anna nodded, her grip on the teacup tightening. Afraid, yes. But of what? The question gnawed at her, unanswered and relentless.

The atmosphere in the sitting room seemed to hold its breath as the conversation turned towards heavier matters. Jack leaned back slightly in his chair, his fingers idly tapping the edge of the chair. What is he thinking about? Anna wondered as his gaze landed on her, softening in concern.

"If you don't mind me asking," he began carefully, "what happened to her? I understand if it's not in my place, but…" He hesitated, choosing his words. "She seems to carry a weight that's difficult to ignore. It pains me to see."

Anna stiffened, her hands tightening around her porcelain teacup until her knuckles turned white. The question hung thick in the air like an unwelcome guest, but she knew it was inevitable. Her sister's silence and the terror in her eyes weren't something that she could conceal forever. The duke was much too involved in this matter, he needed to know.

Anna set the teacup down carefully, taking a long moment to gather herself. "It's…difficult to speak of," she admitted, her voice low and steady, though her composure wavered at the edges. "Two years ago, she was…rescued from the Southern Isles."

Jack's brow furrowed slightly. He leaned forward, sensing the gravity of what she was about to reveal to him.

"She had been under the care of a so-called sponsor after our kingdom fell," Anna continued, her tone bitter as the word tasted foul in her mouth. "A man who claimed to provide her with opportunities, protection—happiness. In truth, he did nothing but…" Her voice cracked, and she paused to collect herself. "When she was found, she was barely recognizable. Bruised, injured—physically and otherwise. The mansion had been burned and the sponsor was nowhere to be found."

Jack's expression darkened. Anna was thankful he didn't interrupt, though every word seemed to weigh heavily on him.

"She endured so much in silence," Anna said, her voice trembling and her brows furrowed. A trace of regret crossed her expressions. "And when we brought her back here, it was as though a part of her had been left behind. She barely speaks, avoids others, and rarely even looks at me. She's…lost in her own world. It took her a long time to recover. The first year was the hardest…" She trailed off. "...until now she still has nightmares, but not as frequently as she had before."

The room fell silent, save for the ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece. Jack exhaled quietly, his mind reeling. It seemed like he hadn't expected this—a dark story and a painful past hidden behind the quiet demeanor of the very broken woman upstairs.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "I didn't mean to bring up painful memories."

Anna shook her head. "It's not your fault. I know people will wonder, and it's better to explain than let rumors fester. But…it's not easy. It's never easy. I've tried everything to bring her back to being herself, but nothing seems to reach her." She said, clenching her fists until her knuckles turned white.

"I want to understand her…but how can I when she refuses to talk to me? How can I when she's still so…so—afraid. I want to know what happened in that house, but only Elsa can tell me what really went on during her years there."

Jack leaned forward, his tone steady and resolute. "Perhaps what she needs the most is patience. Not to be pulled, but to be reminded that people are still here for her when she's ready."

Anna nodded, her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "I just hope it's enough. I hope I'm enough."

Jack's expression softened. "You're here for her. That's more than enough."

"I'm grateful you tried," she said at last, her voice shaking but quiet. "Even small steps feel like a victory."

Jack nodded, his expression thoughtful. "I'll visit again if you think it would help. She just needs time."

Anna watched him, torn between gratitude and frustration. She appreciated his offer, it was of big help, yes. But she couldn't shake the helplessness that settled in her chest like a relentless parasite. Time, they said. But time had already stolen so much from her sister—what if it only took more?