riselikethebreakofdawn (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
riselikethebreakofdawn) wrote2015-10-28 06:53 pm
riselikethebreakofdawn) wrote2015-10-28 06:53 pm
Reuniting with Alric
While the last few days had been painful, they'd also been some of the happiest of her life. It was true that she'd left everything; every last support and constant in her entire life, to live upon the mountain as a hermit. Yet it was here, in this chrysalis of ice, that she had found herself. She'd formed its walls and spires, from the very depths of her spirit which she'd always kept hidden. And within it, she was growing. Forming into a stronger and more self-accepting adult.
It was a lonely existence, yes, but most of her life had been. Here, she could be herself. Could play and experiment and let loose again. She'd shed her responsibilities and the expectations of others, in order to better understand what to expect of herself. It was jarring and concerning, yes, but the freedom and inner strength she had found within it, thoroughly overwhelmed such doubts.
Upon the mountain, rose her own triumph, after that uphill climb. And any who wished to see her? They would have to endure such a path, as well. Not a treacherous one of course, as she meant no harm to anyone. But certainly a difficult hike, only for those who were determined enough to continue trudging upwards through the snow.
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She does note that he scowls upon seeing her tears. It's somewhat heartening that he'd wish so much for her own well-being, that he felt it some failure to not have helped. Or maybe he thought he'd made her cry? Either way, he cared. It was possible, but quite difficult to fake that sort of thing.
It confuses her, when he begins to apologize, but then he explains and she's... not really comfortable with the topic, so she lets it pass without comment, glancing away. She glances back, though, when ...But... catches her by surprise, and suddenly she's back to worrying for him again.
Any mistake could cause horror. What had hurt Anna hadn't been the enormous snow drifts her little sister had leapt off of, or the frosting of the floor, like little Elsa might have predicted. It had been just one tiny unpredictable burst of emotion. One stray little shot of ice magic and a young life had teetered in the balance. Just because he had fire and was unafraid... it didn't mean he had good reason to be unafraid. He'd spoken of not wanting to insult her intelligence, and she'd not insult his by voicing that, but she felt her fears were well-placed and she didn't like allowing him anywhere close enough to test that.
She's actually shocked by the phrasing at the risk of contradicting you. Usually people either had no wish to contradict her... or they just did so, like Anna. It was somewhat rare that someone assessed the political risks and then did so, anyway. There wasn't anyone else in this place to reconsider her authority for it, though, so they were both free to speak as they would.
And speak he did. The man was shockingly persuasive, and despite her memories of the woman and child cowering in fear, the Duke shouting monster and all the people startling away from her... admittedly other than those handful of people, Elsa couldn't remember how everyone at the party had reacted. Even before it had gotten so out of control, there had been a lot of people to keep up with.
Then came the question she'd been waiting for, the last several minutes. The very question she'd kept asking herself. Well, what could it hurt? To speak wasn't to hurt him. At least not usually, from this far away. There had always been enough guards present, many of whom had frequently been in closer proximity to her than he was now. Carefully, she agreed, "Yes. We can discuss it. I have--" Whoops, there was no meeting room, because she hadn't thought to need one-- "a dining room. Please come with me."
She'll lead him through one of the archways, into a room with a small round table on a round snowflake dais. The chunks of ice encircling it, look almost like poufs. It only occurs to her, when she looks at them, that they must be so cold to other people.
She hadn't come here with a lot of cloth; she'd left her cape to the storm, not knowing that Oaken had re-sewn it, then sold it as a cloak to Anna. There wasn't... really anything to cover the ice with. "This is... the best I have, here," Elsa had to admit.
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"Ah... no matter, Your Majesty. The honor of being afforded your first private audience far outshines any furnishings, I assure you."
He flashes a reassuring smile and casually releases his cloak, reaching to whisk it off, folding it over a few times before setting it down atop one of the ice seats. He doesn't take a seat yet, though, gesturing to the table and waiting politely. She is the sovereign, here, after all.
"At your convenience, Lady Elsa."
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Swiping the tears from her face, Elsa inclines her head, walks to the table, sweeps her cape aside and sits, waiting for Alric to sit as well. There are 6 seats, despite Elsa's determination for solitude. She'd just wanted a pretty table shaped like a giant snowflake. Given that it was round, there also couldn't really be a head of the table, either. The informality of such accommodations grates upon her, especially as this is her first day as queen. She'd be hard pressed to make worse impressions upon people than she'd made, today. She really had tried.
Well, he was trying to maintain a courtly demeanor, so she would, too. For whatever was left to maintain. "Please sit wherever you'd like." She gestures at the snowflake table and its seats.
A light snowfall was still accumulating around her, even without the tears she'd exhibited before. If Alric was determined to make this a strategic intervention, then she'd play along, for now. It was best to know what others' intentions were, at any rate. Momentarily, she glanced down at her hands, thinking back to the party he'd wanted her to describe.
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"If you have no objection, Lady Elsa, I'm inclined to approach this in the same manner as a dispute arbitration--that is, to hear first your understanding of events, and discuss their details, before suggesting alternatives."
He pauses a moment, giving her a slightly more pensive smile.
"...and... contrary as it may seem, I would suggest that you say what comes to mind as candidly as you feel able. I cannot address what you do not say... but moreover, what we attempt to hold in unexpressed rarely stays very long contained. When we give voice to a thought--a concern, a frustration, a regret--we lessen its ability to echo in our minds unquestioned."
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A handkerchief? Elsa eyes it, and him, reaching for it and tugging the lower corner, to let it slip down into her hand. She'd have to trust him enough to put it to her face. While she could accept the chivalry with aplomb, it still annoyed her to wonder whether he'd offer such a thing to a king as well. Regardless. They have to try to be here for each other. At least he cared and wasn't as likely to be hurt by her magic as others were.
He then goes on to suggest that she be candid. Which would wreck the formalities even further, but that was only the beginning. Candidness would also be a show of trust.
Diplomacy, as Elsa had been taught, usually required a great deal of trust. But that trust was usually allotted in smaller portions than this, or at least so it had been described to her. To be alone with him, and to accept his handkerchief would be considered unavoidable shows of trust. But to confide in him deeply, about her fears and thoughts... that was leaning on her boundaries in ways she wasn't yet fully comfortable with.
So. A compromise. What if she agreed to confide in him, then only described the things he'd already seen? Her thoughts about the fountain, for instance, and the baby. Not little Anna. Not the closing of the gates or her parents. Just the most recent events. She'd be able to see a lot of the past, personally, if someone were to speak of such events to her. Because she cared and was trying to understand.
"Alright, then." Alright, Alric, she thought, realizing the rhyme with a bittersweet smile.
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"Thank you, Lady Elsa. In your own time, then."
One hand rests in his lap, the other atop the pommel of his sword--a position in which it presses the weapon down into its sheath, making it extremely awkward to draw with either hand. It's mainly habit, somewhere nonthreatening to put his hands, his attention much more on Elsa than his pose other than maintaining good posture.
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Elsa glances down the her hands again. "Well... I suppose it's best to start with the argument. With Anna. I'm not sure how much of it you already heard."
Not wanting to embarrass Anna in front of a crown prince of a neighboring nation, Elsa was testing her ground first. If it turned out that he'd overheard the conversation, Queen Elsa would be a bit more forthcoming with details. If not, she'd gloss over the wanting to marry a man you just met part.
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Alric pauses a moment at that. The beginning of the conversation had been in hushed tones--most of the gathering had barely realized anything was even happening until Anna raised her voice--but anyone actually paying attention to the sisters would have noticed there was something amiss beforehand.
"I heard no details before you began making your way toward the door, but I did... notice... your posture, and hers, and-..."
He trails off for a second, pensive, then smiles a little with a slight shake of his head.
"I don't believe I made his acquaintance. The nobleman from the Southern Isles. ...one of the princes, I assume, judging by his garments, but I confess I can't keep track of them merely at a glance. At any rate, his posture, as well."
Point being that he could certainly conjecture about the theme and broad strokes of the conversation, even if he hadn't heard the actual words spoken.
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Their postures. Which had been... well, all over each other. So he knew that Anna had fallen in love quickly, but maaaaybe not that she'd wanted to marry Hans, just yet. Well then. Starting there and trying to save Anna's reputation...
"He is one of the princes, yes," Elsa replied, thinking. "They shared a private matter with me and it turned into an argument. Then, as you saw, she removed my glove and... thought I didn't care about her. And inside that palace... it would drive any extrovert mad. It's too quiet for her. I suggested she leave. And it only made things worse. Until...my ice just... I lost control."
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Still, no sense giving her a hard time about it, especially when she has more to say. His smile grows more wry as Elsa continues, troubled at the thought of such things being said between the two of them, although there's a glimmer of warmth in his eyes as she describes how difficult it had been for Anna.
"...mm. I recall Lady Anna being nearly as irrepressible and restless as I was, back then--and judging by what I saw when she approached you, and afterward, that hasn't much changed. I believe I understand well... but please, go on."
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"I just... I don't know why it came out as spikes. I didn't mean to scare anyone. As when I made this palace, my ice flows from my feelings. But I didn't want to hurt anyone. I was defensive. Protective. There was too much at risk, too much wrong and so much pressure to respond."
Remembering the way she'd cowered from the room, and the way everyone had just stopped, Elsa nervously cupped the lower half of her face with both hands.
"You'd think I would have walled them out. Not... made something that would scare them worse."
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"...mm. I can think of two reasons, although first, let us bear in mind that you also did not hurt anyone. If that had been your desire, I have no doubt that you'd had the means to do as you wished."
He pauses a beat to let that point settle in before he continues.
"As to those reasons... if you'd pardon my saying so, I'd propose that you were perhaps not only protective, but also frustrated and frightened. It wasn't hard to tell that Lady Anna was pushing with all her indomitable might against the limits of your patience, deliberately try to get a reaction. I can only imagine a part of you--very understandably--wanted her not only to let you escape, but also to back off. I gather your practice has generally been to avoid causes for anger, rather than confronting them and actively directing that anger."
Another pause, partly to let her weigh what he'd just said, but also to decide how best to express his other thought.
"...as to the second... I believe you've made it rather obvious that you see your ability above all as a danger, as something to be contained and concealed--as something that is terrifying to you, and should be terrifying to others. In light of my own experience, I'd suggest that the manifestation of your power is at least strongly influenced by how you perceive it."
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Nodding as he pointed out that she hadn't hurt anyone, Elsa listens and thinks back to those moments that she'd shrunk back against the door. He was of course correct, regarding her feelings towards Anna at that moment. The protectiveness was the first thing she'd thought of, but without fear she'd have had no need to be protective at all, and frustration was the obvious result.
She had wanted them to back off, yes, but not in a way that meant she'd threaten them. She had power, both political and magical, that they did not, and she'd never even consider using it in such a way.
He was correct that she'd mostly repressed and avoided negative emotions, rather than metabolizing them, and that her perception of her abilities was a very big factor. But still... the spikes bothered her. It didn't make sense. She hadn't been trying to unleash anything at them, or scare them away or show them that they should be scared of her magic. She had enough political authority to just leave the room without such a show.
But ice spikes... were also icicles, right? Even though they weren't at the correct angle for it. Tiny little droplets coalescing over time, and coming to a point. Maybe that's what it had been? Not a fortification or a threat, although it had felt like those, too. But underneath it... just pent up feelings? A thousand little shards that she'd kept within her, until they couldn't be curbed anymore. Until they'd burst out, clear and reflective, cold and hard.
"They were icicles," she murmured, surprised and oddly gentle with herself in the realization. "All the droplets of emotion, streaming outward. Pointed, but not in threat."