NOTES:

01.03.25 05:00PM

HAPPY NEW YEAR lovelies! How was your new year? Like how was your 2024?! Good? Great? I had a great year (well maybe). Anyway, HELLO everyone! Welcome back to Bird Cage and yes I did just drop two chapters for you all! Take it as a New Year's gift from me! Honestly, I contemplated whether to drop five chapters to signify 2025, but I decided I'll just put them in later hehe. Don't resent me too much, please! I'm trying my best to complete the other parts of rewriting. So it might take a while.

Anyway, did I leave you all in a great cliffhanger at chapter ten? Haha! It wasn't intended to be honest, I just thought that I'd end the year on Chapter 10 and come back strong next year. Yup, did not expect to have a cliffhanger there. So~! Things are going to get a bit heated and pick up soon.

One thing I'm going to say though, is it's true when they say the characters write themselves. Because honestly, I've just been breezing through the story at this point. Like even I don't know what's going to happen because as I started the rewrite, the characters probably developed a mind of their own to the point where I just started becoming a vessel who writes their story on paper. Like, even I am surprised with the way things have developed. Anyway~ before I let you guys go, let me just take this moment to acknowledge a few people who came and were amazing enough to write reviews. I love reading them and I'm glad you guys loved the story!

Also! I just wanted to tell you guys that: I actually have another fanfic coming soon lol. Um, it's completed. I actually wrote it a long time ago but it's been sitting in my google drive, collecting dust for so long. And I read through everything, and thought that it was good. I did tweak it a bit to correct grammar mistakes, typos, and everything in between. It's a ROMCOM! And I wanted to ask if you guys wanted it. Hehe, it's pretty fun. I had a bunch of laughs reading it and even had the thought 'What was I thinking when I wrote this?'

ANYWAY!

REVIEW HIGHLIGHTS

DCMAISON

Thank you so much for the kind words! I'm happy to see you again and I'm really thankful for your constant love and support for Bird Cage even during the previous version. Yes, sadly the market scene had to be cut (I was pained as well). But who knows? Maybe it'll come back but at a much, much, later chapter. Please continue to give love to Bird Cage this year too!

Guest

Thank you so much for the kind words! I'm glad you enjoyed this, it fills me with so much joy to see! Haha! There's more coming soon in the later chapters! For your question, we'll have to see in the following chapters!

Guest

Hello! I'm glad you're enjoying Bird Cage! This story has a special place in my heart ever since I started writing it during the pandemic, because yes, boredom. And I'm glad that you find it interesting and fantastic as well! And don't worry! Bird Cage won't go anywhere because I am determined to finish the story. Chapter 10 was the end of last year and here we are, back in 2025 with new chapters! As for the original version, unfortunately, I won't be putting it out anymore, frankly because I am embarrassed with the way it was written (grammar-wise and typo-wise). Plus, a lot of things have changed ever since the rewrite, so that version feels more like an… unpolished version of our current Bird Cage. But please continue to give love to Bird Cage this year as well!

Guest

I'm so glad you enjoyed Bird Cage and the previous version! As for reposting or reuploading the first version—I don't think I will put that out now or in the future. It has something to do with structure—frankly because I thought the story was progressing much too quickly for my own taste. I'm sorry c': But, I would like to clarify though, that the previous scenes that were part of the first version will be repurposed in later chapters, (yaaay!). Thank you so much for giving Bird Cage the love that you have! Please continue to support Bird Cage this year too!

WARNING

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

Please read at your own discretion

CHAPTER 11

Anna sat on the edge of their bed, her hands absently smoothing the soft fabric of her nightgown over her knees. The room was quiet, save for the faint crackle of the hearth in the corner. Shadows danced on the walls, their movements hypnotic but doing little to quiet the growing restlessness in her chest. Today was heavy and tiring—her sister's still silence, the endless tasks of managing the estate, and the gnawing worry that no matter what she did, it wouldn't be enough.

She wished she knew what else she could do to help ease her sister's pain. But she knew very well in her heart that she could only stay by her side and wait until Elsa was ready to brave her demons and let go of the past. It won't be easy, and Anna knew that it might take a while—years, even—but she was willing to wait no matter how long Elsa will take. She wants Elsa to know that she's not giving up on her, she will never give up on her.

But there are days when that thought comes from the back of her mind. It resurfaces, like the tide of the sea rising up again. Anna hated thinking negatively, but sometimes she feels much too tired to fight the thoughts—to fight her demons. They come creeping, grabbing her ankles and pulling her down into the depths of her own negative ocean.

She doesn't want to think that way, but she can't help it.

The door creaked open, pulling Anna from her thoughts. Kristoff stepped in, his broad frame silhouetted against the soft glow of the corridor. He tugged at his cravat, his movements stiff and deliberate, as though his mind was elsewhere. His expression was calm—too calm.

Anna's eyes narrowed slightly as she watched him. She knew that look. It was the mask he wore when he was trying to hide something from her. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it for a moment, sighing deeply before moving toward the dresser.

"Long day?" Anna ventured, her voice light, though her gaze was sharp, studying the tension in his shoulders.

"Yeah," Kristoff replied, his tone casual as he untied his cravat and tossed it onto the dresser. "Just... the usual. Nothing to worry about."

Anna's heart sank slightly. There it is. The tiny hitch in his voice, the way his eyes flicked away from hers for just a second too long—it was his tell. He was lying. She had learned to read him like her favorite book, every nuance and habit etched into her memory.

"Kristoff," she said gently, tilting her head as she watched him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, really," he said, pulling at the cuffs of his sleeves and avoiding her gaze. "Just... estate matters. You know how it is."

"Don't do that," Anna frowned, leaning forward. "Don't lie to me. You're terrible at it, you know."

Kristoff stilled, his hands pausing mid-movement. For a moment, the room was filled only with the sound of the crackling fire. Then he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he turned to face her.

"I didn't want to worry you," he admitted.

"Worry me about what?"

He hesitated, his eyes searching hers, as if weighing whether to tell her. Finally, he crossed the room and sat beside her on the bed. The mattress dipped under his weight, and for a moment, neither of them spoke.

Anna waited, like always.

"It's the fields," Kristoff began, his voice rough around the edges.

"The eastern ones. They're... ruined. Completely. The soil's torn up, burnt in some places. We don't know what caused it, but the harvest is gone. All of it. The stores we have will only last four months, maybe five if we ration and stretch it out. But it won't be enough to get us all through the winter."

The words hit Anna like a gust of icy wind, stealing her breath for a moment. She stared at him, her mind racing to make sense of the enormity of what he was saying. Hunger. Cold. Families struggling to survive through the harshest months. The weight of it settled in her chest, heavy and unyielding.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" she asked, her voice quiet but steady.

"Because you already have so much on your plate," he said. "The estate, your sister... I see how much you're carrying, Anna. I didn't want to add to it."

"Kristoff," she said softly. Anna reached out, placing her hand over his.

"We're in this together. That's what marriage is about. It's not just you carrying this burden, or me. It's us."

His gaze lifted to meet hers, and for a moment, the vulnerability in his eyes made her heart ache.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I just... I didn't want to fail you. Or them."

"You haven't failed anyone. We'll figure this out. Together."

Kristoff's shoulders relaxed slightly, though the worry in his expression didn't entirely fade.

"I can reach out to the noble ladies in my circle," Anna said, her voice growing more resolute. "See if they're willing to send any supplies or lend aid. And we can find a way to make what we have stretch out for as long as we can. We'll get through this."

Kristoff nodded, though the lines of tension around his mouth remained. "Thank you," he said quietly.

Anna smiled, leaning her head against his shoulder. "You don't have to thank me," she said. "That's what love is, Kristoff. Standing by each other when things get hard."

Kristoff shifted, wrapping an arm loosely around Anna's shoulders, his thumb brushing absentmindedly against her sleeve. The silence between them lingered for a moment, heavy but not uncomfortable, until he spoke again, his voice softer this time.

"How's it going with Elsa?" he asked, his words careful, as though not wanting to disturb the fragile thread.

Anna exhaled, her gaze dropping to the fabric of her gown. Her fingers fiddled with a loose thread at the hem, her thoughts churning like leaves caught in a restless breeze.

"It's... slow," she admitted. "Some days it feels like I'm talking to a shadow instead of my sister."

"She still hasn't opened up?"

Anna shook her head, her chest tightening as she recalled the many evenings spent trying to coax a word, a smile, even a flicker of warmth from Elsa. "Not really. She listens, sometimes even looks at me when I talk, but it's like..." She trailed off, searching for the right words.

"It's like she's behind a thick sheet of ice. I can see her, but I can't reach her."

Kristoff frowned, his hand rubbing soothing circles against her shoulder. "That must be hard."

"It is," Anna whispered, her voice catching. "But I can't give up on her. She's been through so much, Kristoff. Things I can't even begin to imagine. And then there's..." Her voice faltered, her jaw tightening as a pang of unease twisted in her stomach. "There's Jack."

"What about the Duke?"

Anna sighed, the weight of the thought pressing heavily against her chest. "He's... helping her. More than I can, it seems. Whenever they're together, she's different. Not completely, but she's more present. She nods, answers him sometimes. It's like he's found a way to chip at that ice, while I'm just standing there with nothing but my bare hands."

Kristoff leaned back slightly, considering her words. "Do you think he's a good influence on her?"

"I don't know," Anna admitted, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "I think he's trying. He's patient with her, and he doesn't push. But... it's hard not to feel..." She hesitated, her fingers twisting in her lap. "Jealous."

Kristoff raised a brow, his expression softening. "Jealous?"

Anna nodded, her cheeks warming slightly as she continued. "Not of him, exactly. Just... of the fact that he's able to reach her when I can't. I'm her sister, Kristoff. I've been by her side through everything. And yet, she still keeps me at arm's length."

Kristoff was quiet for a moment, his gaze steady as he watched her. "Anna," he said finally, his tone gentle, "you've been there for her in ways no one else could. That doesn't just go away. But maybe... maybe Jack's just what she needs right now. It doesn't mean she loves you any less."

Anna's eyes shimmered, and she blinked quickly, swallowing the lump rising in her throat. "I know," she said softly. "I do. But it's hard to remind myself of that when I see her actually engaging with him, even just a little. I want to be happy that she's making progress, but I can't help feeling like I've failed her somehow."

"Hey, hey," Kristoff's arm tightened around her, pulling her closer. "You haven't failed her, Anna. You've stayed, even when it was the hardest thing to do. That's not failure—that's love."

"I just want her to be okay," Anna leaned into him, her head resting against his shoulder.

"I want her to find herself again, to heal. And if Jack can help her do that, then... I guess I have to set my feelings aside. She's more important. I have to be more understanding."

Kristoff pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his warmth grounding her. "You're stronger than you give yourself credit for," he said. "And Elsa knows how much you love her, even if she can't show it right now."

"Have you asked Lord Jack about Elsa?" Kristoff's voice was steady, but there was an edge of curiosity, his tone the faintest ripple against the still air. Anna shifted against Kristoff's shoulder, her fingers nervously twisting the fabric of her skirt.

And then she froze for a moment, her breath hitching. Her mind flickered back to the sealed envelope resting in the small drawer of her desk upstairs, the weight of its words still pressing against her chest. She pulled away slightly, sitting upright to meet Kristoff's gaze. The question hung there between them, and she could see in his eyes that he was waiting for something more than just a simple answer.

"I haven't had the chance," Anna admitted, her voice softer now, like the hesitant rustle of leaves in a breeze. "I got a letter from him earlier today."

"A letter?"

"Yes," she said, nodding. "He said he had something to investigate. Something important. And that when he gets back, he'll tell me everything."

Kristoff tilted his head slightly, his expression thoughtful but unreadable. Anna could feel his steady presence beside her, welcomed but not entirely comforting—not with the questions still spinning in her head. She glanced down at her lap, her thoughts tumbling like loose stones on a hillside, impossible to contain.

"He wrote that he'd explain their conversations," Anna continued, her voice gaining a little strength. "When he's back from wherever he's gone." She let out a soft, bitter laugh, one that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"But until then, I'm left in the dark, as always."

She clenched her hands together tightly, feeling the way her nails dug into her palms, a small grounding sensation against the storm building in her chest.

"It's maddening, Kristoff," she murmured. "Like chasing shadows in a room full of mirrors. Every time I think I'm getting close to understanding, something shifts, and I'm back where I started. Trapped."

Kristoff leaned forward slightly, his eyes searching hers. "Do you trust him?" he asked quietly, the words heavy with significance.

Anna hesitated, her lips parting as if to answer before closing again. Trust. It was such a fragile word, like a single snowflake in her palm, beautiful but fleeting, melting before she could fully grasp it.

"I want to," she said at last, her voice barely above a whisper. "He's helping her, and I see that. But it's hard, Kristoff. It's hard not knowing what's being said, what's happening between them. I feel like I'm standing outside a locked door, hearing murmurs on the other side but never being allowed in."

Her throat tightened, and she swallowed hard against the lump that had formed. "And Elsa," she added, her voice breaking slightly. "What if she's telling him things she won't tell me? What if... what if he knows more about her pain than I ever will?"

Kristoff reached out, his hand covering hers, stilling her restless movements. His touch was warm, solid, a quiet reassurance that pulled her back from the edge of her spiraling thoughts. "It's not a competition, Anna," he said gently, echoing words he'd spoken before. "You're her sister. No one can replace that."

Anna nodded slowly, but the ache in her chest didn't ease. It never did.

"I know," she whispered. "But it feels like... like I'm losing her piece by piece, Kristoff. And I'm terrified that one day, there won't be anything left for me to hold on to." She paused momentarily, closing her eyes. She knows she's being pathetic for feeling this way, envying the Duke who she begged for help.

But she couldn't help it. "Jealousy is hard to keep feeling. I don't mean to feel this way, but I can't help it."

Her words hung in the air, and she felt tears sting her eyes, hot and unwelcome. She blinked them away, unwilling to let them fall. "I'll wait for Jack," she said, forcing her voice to steady. "I'll hear what he has to say. But I just wish... I wish I didn't feel so powerless."

"You're not powerless, honey," he said firmly. "You're doing everything you can for her. And I know she sees that, even if she can't show it right now."

Anna closed her eyes, letting his words settle over her like a fragile blanket of hope. She wanted to believe him—needed to believe him. But the shadows of doubt lingered in her mind even though she knew they were fake.

The night wrapped around Jack like a suffocating shroud, its darkness broken only by the faint glow of the moon peeking through scattered clouds. This scene would be beautiful if not for the circumstances he's here for. He pulled his heavy black cloak tighter against the chill, the edges whispering against the ground as he walked. He didn't want anyone else knowing he was on the move. Alerting possible enemies he doesn't know they have would be terrible. Jack didn't want to shed blood on this very night.

The smell hit him first—ash and charred wood mingling with damp earth, an acrid tang that seemed to settle in his lungs. It was the scent of destruction, of something that once was a beautiful building from a prideful noble reduced to little more than just mere cinders littering the ground.

Jack's boots crunched softly against the scorched ground as he approached the remains of the villa. It was a shadow of its former and regal self, jagged beams stabbing skyward like skeletal fingers wanting to be set free. A place once filled with life now lay silent, its stories reduced to smoldering rubble. The sight sent a pang through his chest, sharp and unexpected. This was more than ruins; it was evidence, a cruel testament to the horrors that had unfolded here.

"Over there," Jamie whispered, gesturing toward what was left of the main hall. His voice was low, cautious, as if the ruins themselves might awaken at the sound. Beside him, the knight of the duchy, Sir Edric, kept a hand on his sheathed sword, his sharp eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of danger.

Jack nodded, his throat tightening as he moved forward. The air was heavy, oppressive, like wading through molasses. I don't like the atmosphere of this place. There was something that Jack couldn't quite pinpoint. But he certainly did not like what he was seeing.

He stepped carefully over the debris, his cloak snagging on a jagged splinter of wood. The closer he got, the colder he felt—not from the night air but from something deeper, a chill that seeped into his bones and refused to let go.

His mind churned with questions, each one more pressing than the last. Was Elsa here when this happened? Did she see this place burn, hear the screams of the wood as it cracked and fell?

The thought of her standing here, surrounded by flames, sent a wave of anger through him, hot and consuming, as if his own insides were lit up with fire. His hands curled into fists beneath his cloak.

This wasn't just an accident—it couldn't be. It could never be just an accident.

The timing, the circumstances... everything pointed to something far darker. As if bigger names were behind this. And Jack was sure of it.

"Hiro," Jack said quietly, his voice cutting through the stillness. "Did the villagers see anyone leaving the villa before the fire?"

Hiro shook his head, his expression grim. "No one's talking, Your Grace. Either they didn't see anything, or they're too scared to say. My men and I have asked around, but they say they don't know anything. Although I doubt that's the case."

"It never is."

Jack exhaled sharply, his breath visible in the cold air. Fear was a powerful silencer, more effective than any chain could ever be. Whoever was behind this had ensured there would be no loose ends. But there were always traces, always cracks in even the most carefully laid plans. He just had to find them.

As they reached what was once the center of the villa, Jack knelt, his cloak pooling around him. His gloved hand brushed against the scorched ground, sifting through the ashes. Something metallic caught the faint light, and he picked it up—a small, twisted fragment of a locket. The delicate engraving was almost entirely obscured by soot, but he could just make out the faint outline of a snowflake.

His chest tightened at the sight, and his thoughts turned to Elsa. Had this belonged to her? Had she carried it, held it close, only to lose it in the chaos? The fragment felt heavy in his hand, a relic of a life shattered.

He had to move quickly. There are still so many things he needs to investigate in this—hell hole they put her in.

"This way," Hiro murmured, his voice barely audible. He moved with a purpose, his wiry frame slipping through the narrow corridor like a ghost. Jack and Edric followed, Jamie close behind him, his aide silent but visibly uneasy.

Jack's lantern cast trembling shadows on the walls as Hiro led them deeper into the dungeon. The stone passageway felt alive, its walls almost breathing with dampness, the air thick and stale. There was muck and grime everywhere, an indication that this place hadn't been cleansed at all. The hall smelled like a very pungent mixture of mold and blood—and death.

They hurried. Every step echoed, a haunting rhythm that made Jack's grip on his blade tighten. He could feel the weight of the place pressing down on him, like the remnants of countless unspeakable acts clung to the air, refusing to be forgotten.

The first room Hiro stopped at was small, the metal bars of its door warped and rusted. Jack's lantern illuminated the space, revealing chains bolted to the walls and a wooden chair splintered and blackened by fire. A smell lingered here, faint but unmistakable—sweat, iron, despair.

Jack swallowed hard, his pulse pounding in his ears.

"These were the cells," Hiro said, his tone clinical, but his lips pressed into a thin line betrayed his discomfort. "No sign of who or what was kept here now, but it's clear they were used recently before the fire."

Jack stepped closer, his eyes sweeping over the stone floor. Deep gouges marred the surface, as though someone had dragged their nails or a sharp object across it in desperation. His chest tightened, the scene weaving an image in his mind too vivid to ignore. Elsa might have been here, he thought, the possibility striking him like a dagger to the gut. The idea of her trapped, enduring this place, made his blood boil.

I just hope it wasn't her.

"Your Grace," Jamie spoke for the first time since they entered this wretched dungeon, his voice subdued, "there's more."

Jack nodded stiffly, his jaw tight as they pressed on. Hiro led them to another chamber, this one larger, almost eerily ordinary compared to the cells. A bed sat against one wall, its frame singed but still intact. A small writing desk stood nearby, its surface cluttered with charred papers, a shattered inkwell, and a blackened candlestick.

But what caught Jack's attention was the portrait. It hung crookedly on the far wall, the glass cracked but the image beneath untouched by the fire. Elsa's face stared back at him, regal and composed, but her eyes—the painter had captured something haunting in her gaze, a sadness too deep to be fully understood.

"She lived here," Hiro said quietly, almost reverently. "This space—it wasn't just a cell. It was... hers. At least that's what we think."

Jack's heart twisted, the realization cutting through him like a blade. The contrast between the sparse comforts of the room and the hellish cells outside painted a grim picture. She wasn't just imprisoned; she was kept. Like a prized bird in a gilded cage, the semblance of freedom was an illusion. His grip on the lantern tightened, his knuckles whitening.

Hiro gestured toward the desk. "We found fragments of writing here."

Jack moved toward the desk, setting the lantern down to inspect the papers. Most were too scorched to make sense of, but one fragment caught his eye: a torn corner with delicate handwriting, precise and deliberate. It wasn't enough to piece together anything coherent, but the familiarity of the script left no doubt in his mind. It was Elsa's.

"She must've tried to destroy something," Jack murmured, the weight of the thought settling heavily in his chest. "Or someone tried to erase the evidence."

Jamie, standing near the bed, cleared his throat. "This doesn't look like a prisoner's quarters," he observed. "It's more like… someone wanted her to live here, but not leave."

Jack's jaw clenched as he stared at the portrait again. The firelight from the lantern danced across Elsa's painted features, making her expression seem almost alive. How long were you here, Elsa? What did you endure? The questions clawed at him, their answers just out of reach but close enough to torment.

"We'll take everything we can salvage," Jack said finally, his voice hard. His mind raced, a whirlwind of anger and determination. If this dungeon held more secrets, he would uncover them. Every clue brought him closer to understanding the depths of what had happened to her. He owed her that much.

As they prepared to leave, Jack's eyes lingered on the portrait one last time. Her painted gaze seemed to follow him, a silent reminder of why he couldn't rest. Elsa's pain wasn't just hers anymore—it was his burden too.