riselikethebreakofdawn | 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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He was right. She didn't like it, but she knew he was. "I'm not in danger. At least not anymore. If I ever was. They're better off, without me."

Keeping her back to him, she tried to hide her expression. Controlling the worried undertone in her voice was more difficult, but the protective affection she felt was also audible.

It truly touched her, that he didn't want to walk away. That he had the heart and the strength of will to stand here amidst her ice, and refuse to walk away.

"Pardon my contrariness, Your Majesty, but I'm afraid I can't agree with your low estimate of how important a Queen is to her people."

He smiled to himself calmly as he accompanied her, slowly drawing nearer as they approached the bottom of the stairs.

"And surely we both know a monarch alone in the mountains is scarcely a... sustainable situation, even in the best circumstances. No, I'm afraid I'm honor-bound to stay by your side for your safety. And to see to it that you smile. ...perhaps I should take you up on the ice skating."

Although he sounded quite sincere--especially about her safety--there was just a hint of a playful tone, as well. Of course a certain amount of flirting was taken for granted at Court, but they obviously weren't at Court at the moment. Not properly, at least, and she seemed to be suggesting she didn't intend to be at Court ever again. If he was merely following protocol, he was certainly going far out of his way to do so... although perhaps she already suspected that he meant to do more than merely be persistently courteous.

Faced with two troublesome situations, Elsa chose to confront the less-immediate one first. Maybe he'd stop asking her to dance, if she agreed to learn from him?

Clenching her fists a little, she summoned her own courage and forced herself to turn around, regarding him. "So. The first step was calm."

At least it wasn't snowing in here, any longer. The fountain replica, made of ice, was soothing to be around, as well. Alric, however... well everyone was frightening to be around right now. Even worse than normal.

Well, it might buy her a temporary reprieve, at least; he seemed determined to show her courtly good manners, at the very least. He raised his eyebrows as she turned to face him, drawing to a stop. He paused a moment, regarding her, and smiled sympathetically.

"...mm. In time, we'll find what works best for you, Your Majesty. Think, for now, of something you find soothing; a pastime, a sound, a smell, an idea."

Another brief pause, and he smiled a little more pensively, and yet somehow vaguely amused.

"......for example... the forests around my grandfather's estate, for myself. As a child, I used to hide up among the branches, when I was troubled. Or..."

He trails off for a second, smiling a touch sheepishly.

"...well. Something like that."

It might not be the best time to bring up his own alternatives; he knew all too well that something could be soothing in one frame of mind, and agonizing in another, and the last thing he wanted to do was risk getting her more upset.

Watching his every calm and relaxed movement, Elsa was beginning to feel a little guilty about not granting any of his obvious wishes. Theoretically, if she didn't agree with him, he wouldn't be harmed. But he kept claiming that this could work, and Elsa definitely wasn't going to deny the possibility. The containment of his fire alone, spoke volumes.

What made her calm? No smells, necessarily that she could think of. Sounds, perhaps. Soothing sounds, music and nature. The feeling of safety, for herself and others. The feeling of connection and belonging. She wouldn't let herself think of that as love, just yet. To her, love was still a painful and protective feeling, best expressed by her insistence upon solitude.

She filed the thought away, in the midst of all this fear, that he'd found branches in the forest soothing as a child. In spite of what must have been a terrible time period marked by unexpected flames. She truly hoped that his forest had been spared that.

Her tension slowly slipped away, recognizable first in her upper back and shoulders, then everywhere else as well. With her gaze meeting his, she noted, "It works. Better than containing it."

Alric smiled gently, although he raised his eyebrows slightly, as in a playful, unspoken question if she'd really found it so surprising he was right about something. He moved right along, though, and nodded. His hands remained clasped behind his back, for the moment, to avoid making her feel put upon just as she seemed to be relaxing a little.

"It often does, yes, when one has to opportunity to take a breath. There may be times when your obviously most admirable restraint is necessary, as well, but I've found that a... suite of options is best. Restraint serves us well when we must act, but... incurs a debt, one might say, that must eventually be paid off in some manner. We can hold in only so much, after all, before it demands to be released, one way or another. ....you feel better, I hope..?"

"I--" She cared. She cared about him. How was this working? After she'd fussed about Anna wanting to marry that other Prince, only earlier this night!

Of course this wasn't marriage, but still. It was the first time they'd met in quite some time and... and she cared. "Yes. Thank you."

It wasn't a problem to care, of course, but she refused to let it sway her.

Was this what opening up the gates was? Suddenly friendship and... more than friendship, and her sister wanting a fiancee's brothers to stay with them... People. So many people, and some of them getting so close within so short a time.

She'd questioned it from Hans. Alric seemed much kinder. But she was afraid and also this entire new world was confusing.

Alric tilted his head slightly at the way she answered, her manner so pensive, even demure, at what must have been a moment of relief. He smiled a little more, reassuringly, and leaned just a little nearer, his posture gently prompting with an attitude of supplication, although he didn't step any closer, not wanting to crowd her.

"...and yet..? Pardon my saying so, Lady Elsa, but you seem... troubled by something, still."

Obviously, it was different, since it wasn't stirring up another ice storm, or even a flurry, but something certainly seemed to have her a bit off balance.

"If I can be any help to you..."

"I--" No, that wasn't a good way to start the sentence; try again. ""It's fine." The brittleness and sudden formality in her tone were far too obvious. Life felt... almost unreal. She was queen, the gates were open, she was up here in an ice castle, being possibly-courted by an old friend, and back at home, Anna wanted to marry a man she'd just met? What had their lives become?

It was snowing again. Big splattery flakes of it that evidently didn't create any snow drifts, on the ice of the castle. She didn't even seem to notice the snow at first, nor its odd tendency to just absorb into her ice. She hadn't noticed the tears, either, but here she was, discovering tears on her own face as she tried to remain calm enough to fight back the quiet snowfall.

"I... do not feel they would accept a queen with magic. You saw what it caused, and we'd only just opened the gates. Just once for the coronation." The coronation. Not my coronation. She'd noticed the slip only after she'd said it. It wasn't how unreal this entire episode seemed, that had caused it, but just that she hadn't wanted the throne. It was their coronation that they demanded of her. She didn't see it as hers because she hadn't wanted it and felt like they hadn't wanted her.

Her tone sounded hushed and brittle, crisp like fall leaves. She seemed deflated, thoughtful and self-conscious. Brooding, she'd certainly done often enough as a child, but she'd faced that brooding mostly outward, back then. She'd wanted to know how others felt, what she could do, how they'd continue together. This was an altogether new way of showing that brooding, almost a ruminating; cognitive gears whirling without as much outward questioning involved. She'd learned how to be alone.

Patiently and attentively, Alric listened without interrupting as she searched for what she wanted to say, cutting herself off as soon as she began, then dismissing the observation, only beginning to respond in earnest as snow began and come down around them. He couldn't help but look troubled, himself, at the sight of her shedding tears, and he tensed slightly where he stood, carefully restraining the impulse to do something to comfort her. She was clearly not in a state where he could make some simple gesture to soothe her, and if he attempted to without regard for her clearly significant anxieties, he had to assume it would only exacerbate them.

Pausing a moment after she'd evidently finished speaking, he sighed softly to himself, and shook his head lightly.

"...I wish I could offer some unequivocal assurance, but I have no intention to so insult your intelligence, Lady Elsa. However, whatever uncertainties and fears they may have, it's my impression that yours are a sensible, practical people. They may indeed find it difficult to adapt to the notion of a queen who wields magic, but I have every confidence that it's an adaptation of which they are quite capable."

Another brief pause, and his expression relaxes and brightens a little.

"I confess, from a rhetorical standpoint, the manner in which it was revealed to them was perhaps less than ideal..."

Hopefully he can defuse her distress over what had happened by framing it as an announcement that was executed poorly, rather than some unbounded total catastrophe, as well as playfully understating the matter.

"...however, I don't believe it was an unrecoverable incident. As I recall, the immediate harm was limited to a fountain and a number of frightened party guests. I assure you that younger, less popular dynasties ruling more capricious nations have weathered far more politically damaging events."

He smiles a touch more warmly, moving slowly so as not to startle her, and offering his hands--distant enough to avoid imposing on her, his posture relaxed and neutral.

"Think of it this way, Lady Elsa: if the people of Arendelle can embrace the coronation of a monarch unseen since her childhood and sealed away from them for a decade as warmly as they seemed ready to embrace you only yesterday, there is only so much of their favor likely to be lost through one more irregularity."

The compliment to her intelligence didn't cause her to relax or smile, as it might with some people. She was obviously confident in her own mental abilities, at least, and was in no need of assurance. Some measure of trust, once again, might have affected her lack of response to the compliment, though. He'd continued talking at any rate, so politeness didn't really dictate that she should thank him in the middle of his explanation.

She's somewhat appalled at herself to find herself eyeing him uncertainly, when he claims that her people are adaptable. As trained and afraid as she is, she turns her back to him to hide her expression. She doesn't even think about how the long cape pulls along behind her, when she does. Like some ancient, sloping statue, only enhancing the slouch in her bared shoulders and the cave inward to her upper back. It's not that she looks defeated at all, but she'd never wish to appear this vulnerable, if she knew the way she looked from behind, right now. She'd turned away to avoid his becoming overly concerned about her. Somehow the tears were hard to stop. Which was odd, considering how happy she'd been to escape it all, only minutes ago. But it couldn't be escaped, apparently. The snow flakes became smaller, driving and more numerous.

In all seriousness, she wasn't sure where her life might lead from here. She'd been trained to survive the wilderness, but she also wanted to make sure the people in Arendelle thrived. She didn't feel their feelings about her were mutual, which did make her a little bitter. Like some hopeless unrequited relationship with society. But then she always did tend to end up in hopeless, solitary relationships, right? Why try again? Why couldn't she just make herself give up?

She gives a sad little laugh at his confession, hearing the tenderness in it and not wanting to fully discourage him. She didn't want to cause pain. Not even emotional pain. As painful as she obviously found the situation, she also understood how thoroughly it had been less than ideal, yes. She'd had it all planned out, but she couldn't plan for everything.

No one could plan for Anna. And as angry and frustrated as Elsa was about Hans, at least she could fully understand how a sheltered, shuttered extrovert might feel at the prospect of having no friends and no family who cared. She'd been desperate, uncontrollable.

As Elsa herself was, now? She glanced around them to the snowfall, as Alric began describing the party. More tears fell, even though she was trying to calm herself. A fountain. Which had turned into this spiked wave like some outreaching menacing hand bent upon crushing her, and everyone else. And the baby. How had he just not even mentioned the poor tiny babe that they'd shoved at her as she'd lost control? She winced out more tears at the memory. It had wailed and for a moment she'd heard Anna in that; little Anna. Elsa couldn't return. The way she'd felt herself recoil and hold her hands as though they were horror... the memory was painful.

And yes she was sure others had... erm... weathered worse, but that didn't mean it was safe. She'd suggest Anna take the throne instead, but... yes, more than one person had managed to come out of that party looking untrustworthy. Elsa dearly hoped she was safe.

She hears him approach, feels it through the ice he steps upon. So she has to turn around, tears or no. "They saw. I was scared of my own powers. In their company, and I'd allowed the gates to be opened. I can't-- undo it. You heard what they said."

It was quite obvious she'd had speaking instruction, because given the tears, most people would probably have stuttered at some point already. She'd just clip a word, now and again, or begin then discard a sentence.

"They don't think of me as an irregularity." She says it sadly with a hint of frustration-anxiety, refusing to make eye-contact even as he's standing so close to her. She doesn't yet accept his hands into her ungloved ones. The lack of the gloves was still taking some getting used to.

As much as he would have sincerely intended the compliment, the rhetorical turn had been intended more to ease her into a different perspective--rather than flatly rejecting her pessimistic view of the situation, conceding that real difficulties and challenges did indeed exist and that it would be insulting to merely dismiss how it appeared to her, so that his counterpoint could be heard as a suggestion or an expansion rather than an argument.

For a brief moment, at least, it seemed to work; she was at least listening, rather than answering with defiance. It was certainly less promising as she turned away from him, her posture folding as though torn between her usual poise and a wish to implode and vanish into herself. Watching her carefully, even without the evidence of the flurry picking up intensity around them, he could tell she was still upset, following some series of thoughts that she left unspoken but that clearly served only to agitate her all the more. Frustrating as it was that he couldn't answer whatever worries were silently feeding her anxieties, he had experience enough--with himself, and with diplomacy in general--to know all he could do was to wait for her to express herself, to respond to what he could.

When she turned back to him at last, Alric winced at the sight of her tears seeming only to be renewed by his attempt to soothe her fears. He glanced downward, a hint of a scowl crossing his brow before he worked to compose himself with a brief huff of a sigh. However worried he might be that his impulse to take action, to do something to help, had been foolish or might render more harm than aid, it was no time to start nursing his own insecurities.

"...I apologize, Lady Elsa."

He shook his head lightly, doing his best to calm and soften his own expression, at the very least; he was still confident that she needed a steady-handed advisor, in that moment--a sturdy rock to brace against, not a comrade in turbulence and doubt. The smile he managed was decidedly on the wan side of confidence, but hopefully at least moderately reassuring. Hopefully at least more help than harm.

"...for insisting on a topic that so clearly pains you. I would far rather see you cheered than..."

He trailed off, his eyes flicking indicatively from hers down to her cheeks, then to her hands carefully clutched to herself as though they might spring free and attack him if she allowed it. Meeting her eyes again, his expression had grown more contrite and solicitous, clearly more concerned for her at that moment than for himself.

"...but... I feel I best serve your interests by speaking honestly with you, rather than attempting to distract or confuse you... and... though it may be a fault on my part, I cannot very well leave a friendly monarch, and--if you would pardon my impetuousness--someone I've thought of always as a friend, in such distress."

He glanced down at her hands, again, raising his slightly in a gentle reiteration of the offer, and allowed himself just a hint of playfulness, hoping to coax her gently into a slightly more relaxed state. The snow whirling about them, he seemed to take entirely in stride; it was no longer a surprise, at least, and he was dressed warmly enough to shrug it off for at least a while longer yet.

"I, too, saw--and I did indeed hear what they said. And... at the risk of contradicting you, Your Majesty, I must suggest that after so many years apart from them, you may be attributing to your people more of your familiar concerns than their own. ...I can speak only for myself, of course, but I've found that when I am at my most troubled, my... assessment of events is often colored by my expectations. I believe they do not see you--even now--nearly so harshly as you seem to presume."

He glanced up to her eyes once more, hesitating briefly before putting forward the offer he'd been working toward. Again: not the time to dwell on his own insecurities.

"...do you trust me enough to discuss the matter? To tell me what you perceive--what you observed, and what you took it to mean--and permit me to suggest another perspective?"

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.

Alric brightens visibly at her more collected manner as she considers the request and agrees, and he follows her lead with a courteous bow. Pausing momentarily to take in the room, he follows her attention to the table, and chuckles softly.

"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."

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.

Seeing her still brushing at her cheeks, but significantly more composed, Alric tugs a handkerchief from his sleeve, offering it to her with a faintly contrite smile. If anything about the arrangements makes a poor impression with him, he certainly shows no sign of it, nodding courteously and taking a seat on his folded-over cloak.

"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."

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.

The handkerchief remains warm in her hand, at least briefly, having been tucked away on his person a moment before. Aware of her hesitation but preferring to let her decide how to respond with a minimum of interference, Alric brightens faintly to see her with at least a bit of a smile and willing to proceed, and he nods, gesturing toward her indicatively.

"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.

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.

"...mm."

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.

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."

Alric listens attentively, raising his eyebrows slightly at the vagueness of "a private matter," his polite smile quirking just slightly with puzzled amusement. A private matter indeed, between a visiting foreign prince and a princess who'd had barely one entire day of opportunities to meet him. Given how much Elsa's bearing had stiffened compared to her already tense state, there had presumably been some manner of unreasonable request, most likely from Anna, given she seemed to be (unsurprisingly) doing the most talking. The list of probable topics wasn't all that long.

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."

"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."

Alric pauses, giving her a quizzical look for a second, then smiles sympathetically as he listens.

"...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."

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."

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October 2015

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