longingmuse

Wind sang in curls beyond the painted glass, churning brilliant patterns of greens and blue across Elsa’s icy carpet. Frost crept further along the rugs and wooded floor, coming to a halt at the foot of the walls. Elsa stared icy daggers at the defiant wall, willing her ice to seek dominance over the slaves of her room, but the ice would push no further. After a moment of tight brows and clenched fists, the heiress relaxed her body in a heavy sigh. Her bed was now frozen nearly solid. She would need to have the sheets replaced in the morning. Maybe the frame, too. The blankets covering her glistened in a way only ice could, without pla