WARNING

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

Please read at your own discretion

CHAPTER 5

Anna stood right outside of Elsa's door, her hand resting lightly against the polished wood. She didn't mean to eavesdrop—it wasn't in her nature—but as soon as she heard their voices, she couldn't bring herself to walk away.

Duke Overland's deep baritone was steady, but it was gentle. His words were indistinct, though every now and then, Anna caught snippets: "...wanted to ensure…anything I can do…" Elsa's voice was quieter, more hesitant, and yet she heard the rare softness in her sister's voice she hadn't heard for two whole years.

For a moment, Anna pressed her forehead against the doorframe, closing her eyes as she tried to listen in. But she could hear no more than just faint whispers through the walls. A mixture of emotion surged within her: hope, relief, and a lingering sorrow.

She's talking. She's letting someone in, even if it's just a little.

Anna didn't stay long enough to hear the rest, her heart was much too heavy to endure more. She turned away and walked down the corridor, her steps were light but deliberate.

In her study, Anna found her husband in an armchair near the window, a stack of documents balanced on his lap. He looked up as she entered, his brows lifting slightly in concern at her pensive expression. Of course he would worry. He always does when it comes to Anna.

"She spoke with him," she said quietly, crossing the room and sinking into the chair opposite him. "Not much, and she still looks like she's holding back everything inside…but she spoke."

Kristoff set the documents aside and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "That's good news, isn't it?" He asked gently. "But why does it seem like you're sad?"

Anna nodded, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "It is good news. It really is. But it's hard to see her like this—guarded and distant. Even with me." She drew in a shaky breath. "There are moments when she looks at me, really looks at me, and I think she's about to say something. But then…she doesn't."

She shook her head, her hands twisting together on her lap. "I should be happy. I mean I am. She looks at me in the eyes for more than a second…two years ago she would've—"

Kristoff reached out, taking her hands in his own, offering her his comfort. "That's still progress," he said softly. "Small steps, but steps forward."

Anna let out a bitter laugh, wiping the stray tear at the corner of her eye. "I just keep thinking…if I'd done more, been there for her earlier—maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe she wouldn't have needed someone like the duke to step in and do what I should have done."

"Don't do that to yourself," Kristoff said, his voice steady, a small frown on his face as he looked into Anna's eyes gently. "You've done everything you could, everything you can. And look what you've done for her now. You've brought the duke into her life when she needed someone who could help. You've given her a chance to heal."

"But what if it's not enough, Kristoff?" she whispered, her voice breaking. "What if she never…" She trailed off, unable to say the words aloud, fearing it might come true.

Kristoff rose from his chair and knelt before her, holding her hands tightly. "Listen to me," he said, his eyes meeting hers. "She's making progress, no matter how slow. And that's because of you. Because you care, because you refuse to give up on her. That's what matters."

Anna looked down at him, her tears finally spilling over. "I just…I feel like I failed her, over and over again."

Kristoff reached up, gently brushing a tear from her cheek. "You haven't failed her," he said, "You're here, by her side, every step of the way. That's not failure, Anna. That's love."

His words broke through the wall of guild and self-recrimination she'd unknowingly built around herself. She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around him as a sob escaped her. She was so lucky to have him, to see that he cared. About her and the people she loved.

"She'll be okay," he murmured against her hair, holding her tightly in his arms. "It'll take time, but she'll be okay. And so will you—us."

Kristoff leaned back in his chair, his demeanor calm but watchful. Anna perched on a velvet settee, her eyes darting between Jack and her husband, with a mix of curiosity and concern. Jack was dressed impeccably as always, sitting opposite them, his expression was somber, and yet he seemed composed.

"Your grace," Anna began softly, smoothing the folds of her gown as she watched Jack expectantly. "How is Elsa? Do you…do you think she would be able to talk to me soon?" Anna's voice wavered slightly showing the depth of her worry.

"She's managing. Although I'm not sure about the latter part. We'll have to see," he said carefully, his eyes landing on Anna's. "But, she did admit that there are moments where she finds things…difficult."

Kristoff straightened slightly, his brow furrowing as he exchanged a glance with his wife. "I can understand," he said, his tone measured but with an edge of concern for his sister-in-law. "With what she just went through back in the South…"

Anna placed a hand to her chest, her expression stricken. "Oh, my poor sister," she murmured. "I want to understand what happened to her. What happened to her in the South?"

"How was it? The days when she first arrived here?" Jack asked, curiosity taking a hold of him.

Anna glanced down at her clasped hands. She looked tired, as if recounting the story drained her as much as living through it. "The first year," she began softly, her voice trembling despite her very efforts to stay composed, "was…unbearable."

Jack's jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

"It was worse during mealtimes," Anna went on. "She would sit in her room, staring blankly outside the window, with the plate untouched. It took hours of coaxing her, encouraging her to at least take a few bites. And when she did…" she faltered, swallowing hard. "She would throw everything up as if her body was rejecting the food, and it made her ill."

Kristoff spoke up, his voice low but firm. "We don't know everything that happened to her, but from the state she was in when I brought her here with my men, it's clear that she had endured unspeakable things. I saw it…the room she was kept in was luxurious, but it doesn't seem like the room was being used by a living person. There were no personal touches, no warmth. It almost…seemed like a cage. By the time we found her, she was no longer herself."

Jack's fingers curled tightly against the armrest. "And where is the man? Have you found him?"

Kristoff shook his head, and Jack could feel his blood rising. "He vanished. Likely aware that we'd come looking for him. Whatever power or connections he once had were enough to keep her in silence for years."

Jack's gaze shifted to the window, his frown deepened. He did not voice his thoughts, but the injustice gnawed at him. She was no longer herself… Those words echoed in his mind, colliding with the image of Elsa's distant gaze in her room.

"I don't know how we've managed," Anna admitted, her voice breaking slightly. Jack could see the pure and raw emotion of hurt in her eyes, and his heart tightened. He knew that look. He was much too familiar with that look.

"It's taken so much patience, so much love just to keep her here with us. But sometimes I wonder if what we're doing is enough for her. She doesn't speak to us and she doesn't even engage with the world anymore. But now…" she trailed off, "...I'm just glad she's speaking to someone. To you."

"You've done more than most would, Madam." He said calmly.

Anna gave him a faint smile, though her eyes were glossy, glistening with unshed tears. "We only hope that she finds herself again…that she'd come home. That's all we want—for her to live without fear haunting her every step."

Jack's gaze sharpened, and he leaned forward, his voice taking on a note of urgency. "Do you really have no intention of investigating what happened to her back there?"

Kristoff frowned, clearly uncomfortable with the subject. "It's not that we don't have the intention, your grace—"

"If that is the case, then allow me to assist. Allow me to help you. If there is any chance of uncovering the truth, should we not take it?"

Anna looked between them, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. "I want to…but I also want to hear it from Elsa's mouth. I want to know what happened, how she felt…But you think there is more to this than we know," she said quietly.

"I understand you want to hear the full story from Lady Elsa's perspective, but how long can you wait? How long will it take for her to speak of the injustice she's gone through? What? If he's living a fulfilled life? If he's dead?" He frowned, "If we want to help her, we should at least have an idea about what truly happened," Jack said firmly. "For her sake—and for yours. She deserves justice, whatever the cost."

A heavy silence fell over the room. Anna agreed with Jack. She really did. She was one of the people who wanted to know what really happened to her sister. It pained her to see her sister retreat into her own world, shutting her out. And yet—Anna feared to know the truth.

"What do you want to do, Anna?" Kristoff asked, giving the final decision to his wife.

With a long pause, Anna nodded her head reluctantly. "Very well, you grace. We will accept your help…please, help us uncover the truth."

Jack inclined his head. "Of course, I will do everything in my power."

The carriage had barely come to halt before Jack flung the door open and stepped out, his strides were swift as he crossed the grand foyer of his estate. He had to quickly go into the study. There was just something he needed to do. The evening lamps cast a soft golden glow on the white marble floors, they flickered as Jack passed them by quickly. His thoughts churned like a storm, his mind loud—unsilenced.

"Jamie," he called over his shoulder, voice firm and low, as his aide hurried to keep the pace behind him. The click of their boots echoed in the expansive corridors as maids stepped aside to avoid them, making a small respectful bow as Jack passed them by. Jack turned a corner, the faint scent of wax and parchment grew stronger as they neared his office.

He pushed the heavy oak doors open and the scent of old books and ink greeting them like a long time comrade. He didn't pause, he didn't have time. Moving quickly towards his desk, he discarded his gloves. It fell down to the floor with a small thunk—it was unusual of him to be this careless with his things. But Jack's mind was fixed elsewhere.

"Sit," he commanded brusquely, gesturing to the vacant chair. Jamie followed suit, his eyes studying his master's uncharacteristic agitation.

"Your grace," Jamie began cautiously, "is something the matter?"

Jack's response was delayed, almost as if he couldn't hear Jamie's calls or questions. Instead, he moved to a nearby shelf, eyes scanning the books frantically before pulling out a map of the Southern areas and laying it flat on his desk. Where did they say she was staying prior to being rescued? Jack's eyes roamed around the map, his hands shook, but that was the last thing on his mind. Was it…AH! Here…Southern Isles.

"Your Gra—Jack!"

Jack flinched, getting pulled out from his unnecessary immersion. His eyes landed on Jamie standing in front of him with a confused expression on his face. Oh yes…Jamie was here. "What's wrong? You have to tell me or I can't help you," His aide asked in confusion, looking at him with a concerned gaze.

Jack took a deep breath, eyes solely focused on the map before him. "Everything," he said finally, his voice taut with restrained anger. "I want you to investigate everything about Lady Elsa." He leaned heavily on the desk, his knuckles whitening. "Her history, her sponsor, the people she was close to, the people surrounding her, her life, her rescue. No detail is too small, and I want nothing withheld from me."

Jamie's brow furrowed in concern. "Your Grace, did…something happen to Lady Arendelle?"

Jack's jaw tightened, hesitating and contemplating whether Jamie would understand his intentions or Elsa's past. "Something is amiss," he said, his voice low. "Lady Elsa's story…it was incomplete. I could see it in Madam Bjorgman's eyes, the way she hesitated…"

He straightened up, pacing to the large window that overlooked the moonlit gardens. The cool glass beneath his palm did nothing to soothe his burning anger. Why does this matter so much to me? He wondered. He'd encountered tales of misfortune before, heard the hushed whispers of scandals in other noble mansions—he had witnessed one in this very mansion—but this was different.

The image of Elsa's haunted eyes flashed in his mind, her silence louder than any scream. No one should have to endure what she has—especially not alone.

Jack turned back to Jamie, a frown on his face. "You have the resources and my full authority. Please, start tonight. And, Jamie—" he paused, his voice dropping lower. "Make sure nobody knows about this. The fewer the people know, the better."

Jamie nodded, although confused, still already making mental calculations of who to contact and where to begin. "Understood, Your Grace."