To Know The Dark ; frozen fanfic

prologue

"I caught snowflakes
on my fingertips
but they melted away
to my dismay."
-
Sabina Laura

'It's not fair,' Emil thought, listening to the whimpers and whines of his little brother from the other side of the heavy wooden door. He understood that he was capable of hurting others - Alexander had suffered before him enough. But even so, he merely seven. The trolls had said that, had he aimed just the slightest bit higher, Alexander wouldn't be on the other side of that door, crying for Emil to come out. The thought made the older boy curl into himself tighter. His own little brother, his favorite person in the whole world, could've been gone because of him.

He didn't fully understand the concept of death, what a weight death would be on his own little shoulders, but he knew that death involved going away and never ever coming back. He hated that he couldn't play with his little brother anymore, but he'd hate it even more if Alexander was not on the other side of that door, even at the cost of Emil being able to go out again.

The white haired boy sighed, his breath shaky as tears dripped off the tip of his nose. He wanted to play with Alexander, of course he did. But he couldn't because he'd hurt him, even if he didn't want to. The whole thing made his head hurt and the crying didn't help either. He let out a small whimper, barely audible to his own ears. His nose was running, making his upper lip sticky, and his eyes felt uncomfortably puffy and scratchy. He knew taking a small nap on his bed and washing his face after would make him feel a lot better, but his legs felt like jelly beneath him and wouldn't move.

A hand laid gently on top of his strewn white tresses, Emil instantly jerking upwards. He was supposed to be alone in his room. Wide and pale (e/c) stared back at him, the other kid's lips formed into a small and surprised 'o'. Emil, momentarily forgetting his sorrow, filled with fear. How did this kid get in here? Who was he? He'd never seen this child running around outside the streets of Arendelle in his entire life, and his room had a pretty good view. However, the longer Emil stared at this kid, the longer the kid stared back. It went on for so long that the little prince was almost certain this other child was a ghost. Ghosts, he thought, were supposed to be scary. Emil couldn't help but reach a hand forward, curiosity getting the better of him. He wanted to see if his hand would pass through the other.

Hardly halfway there and with those strikingly dull eyes following every single twitch of his finger, the hand of the other boy shot upwards, gripping Emil's. He couldn't stop the yelp that escaped him, automatically jerking back. The boy, in response to this, leaned away but kept his grip on Emil's hand. It took him a moment of cowering, but the prince realized that the boy did not move further, staying completely still and holding his hand. And then Emil realized that the boy was warm. Emil tried to tug his hand away, but the boy refused to let go. Ugh.

"You have to let go," Emil muttered, continuing to tug at his own hand. "You'll get hurt if you hold my hands." The boy still refused. Emil was starting to get upset. With a scowl, he yanked his hand back, repressing the shudder as the only drop of warmth he'd felt since being locked away disappeared. The boy continued to look longingly after Emil's hand, but he guarded it towards his chest, curling farther into himself. The boy, although upset, decided to sit on the frosty floor next to Emil, completely ignoring the manacles bolted into the stone wall above them. Emil looked at him, face still scrunched. He wasn't even sure if the other kid could understand what he was saying. As the boy laid his head on Emil's shoulder and continued to face him, the prince decided to test his theory.

"Uhm, what's your name? And how did you get in?" The boy continued to blankly stare at him, not a sound passing through his lips. Then, Emil started to think, maybe the boy couldn't hear? The white haired boy deflated a little. What joy, he finally had a friend in this cell and he couldn't even talk to him. But ... communicating was worth a shot. Emil looked at the boy, pointing his finger towards his own chest. The boy watched his finger with rapt attention, cheek squishing against Emil's shoulder.

"I'm Emil. That's my name," he stated loudly and slowly. He then moved his finger to point at the boy's chest. The boy had appeared naked at first, then Emil had reasoned that he was probably wearing a leotard, but the sheer waves of warmth that spread through where Emil's finger met the boy's chest was much too hot to be simple skin tight clothes, especially in such a cold room.

"You are?" The boy, who had looked downward to follow Emil's hand, gazed back up into Emil's eyes with a clueless expression. His lips had pursed and brows had furrowed, as if turning what Emil had said in his brain. The white haired prince could hear the strange boy humming and whining in frustration, probably attempting to speak. Emil watched him patiently, reminding himself that Alexander had done the same thing when he had been learning to speak.

With a scratchy and weak voice, the boy emitted a small coo. The noise seemed to startle the boy himself, blinking in surprise before cooing again, more enthusiastically this time. Emil watched idly as the boy continued to coo, before attempting to make other noises, sparkling eyes gazing up at Emil in amazement and wonder. The prince couldn't help smiling, pointing to himself again.

"Emil," he spoke, the boy watching him with big eyes.

"Ah."

"No," Emil shook his head. "Emil. Eh - mil."

"Mi!" Emil sighed, nodding.

"Yeah. Me." Boy, this was going to take some work.