~𝒩𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝐿𝑒𝓉 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒢𝑜~

14. Let In A Little Too Close

[I am so sorry for the delay of this chapter! Over 4,300 words!! I really wanted to make it perfect.]

(Y/N)'s POV

Am I back in the abyss?

With a pounding in my temple, I blink away the blurriness from the corners of my vision.

I expected to be back in the forest, maybe inside that empty void, but instead, as my sight adjusts to the low, warm light flickering from a fireplace, I find myself in my room. My room in Elsa's Ice Palace, to be exact. And there, sitting on the side of the mattress, with eyes downcast, biting her pinky nail, is the Ice Queen herself.

With my body under the fur blankets, I wiggle my fingers and feel the wet cloth on my forehead, attempting to ground myself instead of feeling as if the room, the bed, or all three are spinning.

As I attempt to grasp coherent thoughts, I keep my sight on Elsa through heavy-slitted lips.

Currently, she fashions a messy ponytail instead of her signature French braid. Her blonde hair is frizzy and imperfect, and yet my cheeks heat up at the new look. Effortlessly beautiful, just like the winter season.

I can feel the mattress shift under Elsa's weight with her subtle movements. She sighs with tight shoulders and a body so rigid that it slightly shakes.

The sensation of imaginary spinning slowly ceases. Soon, my awareness enhances as I focus solely on Elsa.

To see her now after seeing Morana, Iduna, and Agnar—their past—it feels different. As if all this time I have only seen a smeared painting of the history regarding Elsa, her parents, and her power. Heck, even how Arendalle rose to power. But now, after that vision, if it was real, that painting per se has been slightly restored, and I'm starting to see the full picture. I'm starting to understand.

Peering at Elsa through this new perspective of her parents' history, I see the subtle features of Iduna and Agnar in her. Then there was Morana. Elsa's icy eyes are the same color as Morana's and laced with the same type of loneliness; yet also in those icy blues is that disheartened look like Iduna's, and that tension akin to Agnar's.

Nausea in my body remains, but I no longer feel the urge to puke, although some grogginess remains festering in my stomach.

I think back to the end of the memory, or rather, a vision of seeing the past, specifically when Morana's powers hit Iduna's stomach and the growing baby.

My heart lurches, thinking the worst.

When my mouth finally parts open to speak, my words are terse and raspy.

"Is the baby okay?"

Elsa perks up to hearing me. She turns in my direction. She plucks her pinky nail out of her mouth as she says my name breathlessly.

"(Y/N)." Elsa immediately springs from sitting on the bed, coming to stand by my side.

Guilt racks her face; her mask of unfeeling might well be a real mask lying on the floor.

Elsa lifts the wet cloth on my forehead, tenderness in her actions as she magically adds a thin layer of frost to the small towel and gently sets the cool cloth back onto my head.

Goosebumps reemerge and glosses across my skin. I shift to rise up the stacked pillows and again start to ask about the baby, but Elsa hushes me before I can finish my question.

"Shhh. Lay back down." She consoles me.

Starting to feel dizzy again, I obey the Ice Queen, my head returning to the soft pillow.