~𝒩𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝐿𝑒𝓉 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒢𝑜~

15. I See Her

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(Y/N)'s POV

Beneath Elsa's mask of emotions, which she wears elegantly, akin to her ice crown, I see the thrashing winter storm pulsing in her veins. I see her soul clawing to be unbound from her flesh as if it's too large—and she has been through too much, knows too much, and thinks too deeply.

A soul that was supposed to be oblivious like the rest but was forced to be too aware. A soul that is trapped in a fragile mortal body with a glass heart that should have shattered a long time ago, but it remained strong. A glass heart turned to ice. A heart that is dangerous and cold and seemingly afraid to fully thaw and feel.

I glimpsed those emotions in Elsa last night when she left my bedroom—and left me with the universe to analyze and that empty desire to touch.

And once I seemed to understand Elsa, or at least a kernel of her, my heart fluttered and sang, as if I had discovered the secret to life.

Imbued in me was a quiddity of triumph, as if I were a translator of Egyptian text and translated the Book of Life. And although Elsa remains distant as often as she can, I am a bit more fulfilled. Fulfilled in what, I do not know. That is another question for dawn's next light, as, with a smile on my face, sleep wrapped around me and darkness slipped into my sight.

Now, a large yawn roars through me. Already, I am dressed in bundled-up winter clothes, better equipped for hunting. All the clothes and layers I wear were gifted to me by Elsa. She said the clothes were acquired from "generous travelers," who "left many of their belongings behind unexpectedly."

Even I know that sounds suspicious, but, at least I'm warm. As I should be, adorned in many, many layers. Albeit, I will add what happened to all these people whom I am getting their hand-me-downs to my list of questions for Elsa.

She's hiding something from me. Or a lot.

Anyway, what is most unique about my outfit is the warm pants I wear. Although they are large, they are warm and more flexible for me to move than in my winter dress.

My, or rather the thick fur-lined boots Elsa gifted to me, clunk with my steps as I meander down the main staircase. My limbs are taunt and my eyes heavy, still dazed in some drowsiness, yet this morning is peaceful. Apricity warms my cheeks as vibrant orange and violet light enters through ice-panned windows. The walls and floor effulgent in a glow akin to a fire trapped within the ice.

'Trapped just like that odd hand.' I remember. 'A possible cry for help or my hallucination. Or, a consequence of living at such a high altitude for over a week.'

There's something amiss in the castle. I don't even know if Elsa is aware of it. Or perhaps she is and that explains her odd behavior the last few days.

In one moment, she will be more transparent about her emotions, and the next, she clams back up. Back to the ice queen, who left me stunned as she stood on the staircase. I see only a glimpse of her inner battle, I know. And it only draws me further into Elsa's enigmatic, icy existence.

Arriving at the large arched doorway to the dining room, Elsa is already seated at the ice-made table. She sits in her signature seat with her back straight and her face stupor. Even her breathing appears abnormally slow this morning.

My heart lurches in concern at seeing her so accustomed to that mask, and Elsa is whelving her true emotions beneath it.

As my winter boots clunk on the ice floor and I approach the table and the orphic ice queen, I wish to scream to her, 'No! Feel! Stop pushing and locking your feelings away!'