~𝒩𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝐿𝑒𝓉 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒢𝑜~

8. A Penguin's Knife Play

(Y/N)'s POV

Pain tingles through my calves from ice skating for so many hours, yet a smile is etched onto my face.

With eyes crinkled from delight, I look down at my reflection in a cup of hot sjokolade (Norwegian hot chocolate) in Elsa's icy library, which does have hundreds of real books, probably collected from the original Arendale castle.

I sigh, sitting on a fur rug close to the fire, the heat relaxingly tickling my face.

However, my brows furrow, deep in thought regarding the complexity of the ice castle and its inhabitants.

In the library is a grand unmeltable ice fireplace crackling with upturned stacked wood, the right way a traditional Arendale fire should be, as Elsa claims, although Olaf argued differently—well, not argued; the snowman seems too sweet to necessarily argue.

Although sometimes the ice castle imbues me with a disturbing sensation, always wanting me to be on guard as if a predator is nearby, it also feels magical, as if a guardian angel is watching me.

Perhaps the angel is Olaf.

Speaking of the snowman, he is snoozing on a large ice-made couch, sometimes muttering about "summer" between snores.

Adorable, but sad since it's been nothing but winter in Arendale for half a decade now.

And how can Olaf snore with only a carrot nose? I do not know. It shall be one of the many mysteries of the universe.

I chuckle at the thought before taking a drink of the warm beverage and letting the heat spread throughout me.

Elsa left for the bathroom, giving me a chance to contemplate much.

Olaf is so friendly, wanting to cuddle, play, and make friends. He reminds me of a little cousin. He's amiable, but just like Elsa, he has this haunting and longing sadness in his eyes.

I set the mug on the ground.

I have no doubt that he and Elsa have seen and done things that make them sinners, and that's what scares me. Not that they have sinned, but that they can sin and kill again.

I already came close to dying when I came to the castle to see Elsa.

Elsa.

The Ice Queen is nothing like I imagined her, mostly because I expected to be in more life-threatening situations with an icy ogre of a former princess trying to freeze me. Which is why I brought a few knives and charms with me in my bag.

After all, with her being isolated for so many years, it's easy to imagine a royal-looking bestial and unkept, yet Elsa is a vision of loveliness and holds onto the manners of a true queen.

Although her personality can be cold at times, I wouldn't say she is as cold-hearted as the rumors say she is. Heck, if I hadn't seen the bodies frozen in the snow on my way here, I might not believe the lore of her slaughtering people. Elsa merely seems reserved.

I bite the inside of my cheek, visualizing the alluring, dark Ice Queen. My sight descends to my gloved hand, where we had held hands for hours today. Elation floods me, but is it entirely joy I feel (besides a bit of fear because, well, it's Elsa) or something more?

But how much do I really know about Elsa? That's why I came here after all: to know the provenance of the Ice Queen, her powers, and perhaps prove to myself that I dared to survive the journey to her kingdom and discover the certitude of the Ice Queen's life.

"The truth always comes at a price." I was warned on my journey here, and that advice in itself is the truth.

Suddenly my body stiffens on instinct, feeling a harsh gaze watching from behind me. I partly wonder if it's Hunky the Ice Cube back for revenge for some reason.