Frozen - Night Music of Arendelle

Night Music of Arendelle

It was several hours after the ball before Elsa walked back to her room, a half-empty wineglass hanging from her hand and her eyes frosted from the night's mirth. Her skin was glazed with sweat, and her feet were sore from the hours of standing and occasional dancing. Although she had long gotten away from the percussion of the orchestra, her head was still bumping rhythmically and her throat hummed with the occasional melody, an afterthought of the beautiful music she had heard.

All in all, it had been a wonderful evening, and she had not wanted it to end.

In a distant flash of her duties, she had dismissed all to return home. The Queen of Arendelle had shown herself long enough to make sure there were not throngs of sleeping citizens strewn around the Great Hall when the morning sun climbed over the mountain peaks. Inwardly, she wished her magic would somehow allow the hazy pleasure of the drink and music to bat away the realities of the morning, and that they all could continue the party into eternity, where truth and consequence had no meaning.

Sadly, it was one thing her magic could not do.

The heavy door was closed behind her, the guard uttering a quiet goodnight. She stared into her empty chambers and her shoulders fell. It was a stark difference from the lively ballroom she remembered. Only a passing thought was given to Anna, as she remembered her sister drunkenly passed out on the royal throne, a stark removal from the royal manners that a Princess of Arendelle was supposed to portray. Only the sight of Kristoff sweeping her up in his powerful arms relieved the Queen, as he nodded politely before whisking Anna away to their chambers, where only the olden walls of the castle would see their private moments together.

Elsa sighed. Staring at her empty bed, she suddenly felt chilled. It was a sad thing to walk alone to one's bedchambers, thinking of the secrets of others and met only by the duties of the guard. She was jealous of Anna, and the openness of her relationship with Kristoff. To be swept away to her bed was an idea that burned within her chest, and she longed for that same freedom.

As Queen, she knew she could never afford to be seen that way.

Taking a few steps into her chambers, she shed her shoes and placed the wineglass on her dresser with a resounding chime. Even the crystal sounded lonely. Sitting before the mirror, she began to push her fingers through her hair and dismantled her braid, making her platinum blonde hair sprawl out over her shoulders. After taking a moment to stare at her lonely figure, she closed her eyes and concentrated, making her dress dissolve from her skin and leaving her naked in the moonlight seeping in from her open balcony doors.

Glancing out to the open doors, and the cool summer wind that danced with her silky curtains, she wrapped her arms loosely around her body and walked to her wardrobe, where she found thin sleepwear and slipped it on over her. Pulling her hair from her neck, she quietly padded back to her vanity, where she sat before the mirror once more and stared at herself, trying to find any blemish or mark. There was, of course, none to be found, and she soon grabbed a brush and began trying to straighten out the wavy lines of her unchained hair.

As always, she could never get the curls out of it completely.

While brushing her hair, she began to hum, the melodic tones of her voice lifting over the pulsing wind and making her bedchamber a little less lonely. Her eyes would glance to the balcony, as if expecting a response. When none came, she frowned and her shoulders once more dropped in a sigh, as if her heart had been denied some great relief that her eyes would afford her. Several times, she swore she heard the something just outside her balcony doors, hidden and elusive, but each time her silent pause was met with nothing but more silence.

To her fear and disappointment, she wondered if she would truly find herself alone that evening.

Just as she expected the worst, a soft, melodic tone came creeping in through her open doors, matching many of the notes she had just been humming to herself. Their intrusion on her loneliness was met with a rise in her chest and a glimmer in her eyes, as if she had been waiting the entire night for their arrival. Only one thing could make such a tune, and chase away the hollow in her heart.

When the melody continued, she knew she would not spend her night alone.

Taking the wineglass from her dresser, she slipped the crystal to her lips and sipped just a little more, as if the liquid would somehow make the music more powerful. She also hoped it would make her more powerful, as she knew what she would find when she dared to push through the silk curtains onto the balcony outside her room, exposed to the night and the breeze that ruled it. Before she could go, however, she looked in her mirror one last time and glanced over her reflection, judging every aspect of it like she would a prospective knight.

Hazy and slightly giddy, she took extra care around the neckline of her dress, making sure she would show ample breast, but not be too revealing. It was a fine line to tread, but she knew there would be no other eyes waiting for her out there.

It would only be his eyes she would find.

As Elsa pushed herself out onto the stone balcony, she found him sitting on the ancient railing, his leg dangling over the sheer drop to the fjord below, his posture not showing a care for his precarious position. Many times she had scolded him for sitting so close to the edge, but he never did listen to her. To fall would be certain death, but he defied that just as he defied everything else.

It was just one of the things that drove her desire for him.

To his lips was a bamboo flute, his breath pushing beautiful, sad notes through as the lonely melody she had come to know by heart. His fingers danced across the holes as a matter of practice, as she had heard him play the song countless times before. She was sure he could play the tune in his sleep, with his hands and his lips otherwise preoccupied.

Walking out to the railing, she placed the empty wineglass by his foot and looked out over the fjord, her nose taking in the cool sea air and her skin thrilled at the feeling of her hair being tossed back. This was her favorite time of night, when the sun had long since set and the air was just fully being taken by the cold of the evening. Leaning on her elbows, she closed her eyes and listened to him play the melody, entranced by its soul. Long gone were her questions at how he managed to get to her balcony without anyone seeing, where it sat as one of the most heavily-guarded places of the castle and far away from any obvious foothold. It only mattered that he got to her, time and time again, night after night. Her doubts seemed silly and her fears distant. She knew he would always come for her, just as he whispered it into her ear as they had danced, hidden away from the prying eyes of the court, as true as the northern star that sparkled overhead.

As he played, the soul of the music took her, making her hum along with it. In time, the tones became lyrics, as she had done much research into finding out the ancient words of the song from his homeland. It had been an effort of passion, as she struggled to grasp the meaning of the song, and why the strangely miserable lyrics grasped at her heart so. They whined of a lost love at sea, and the maiden that waited for him to return. It was saturated with sorrow and regret, yet could draw her in every time, so that she sang each note with remorseless clarity, and played each word beautifully from her tongue.

In her heart, she wished to never feel such things, for even as proxy they tore at her, and made tears sting the edges of her eyes. His notes were powerful, and they pierced the night air, intermingled with the soft tones of her voice, until they mixed into a potent spell of emotion and grace, certain to claim any that heard it.

More than any orchestra, she knew the power in his single flute, and the way it would entrap her mind and enslave her heart.

Even as his last note trailed away, her voice had broken and lost out to the beauty of the song. Her eyes closed, she shed tears for the nameless maiden and her cruel fate to forever wait alone. Her hand was resting on his foot, it clad in nothing but a linen sock, and she slowly raised her eyes to him as he was carefully looking over the condition of his flute. She marveled at him, the way he could pay such attention to the instrument in spite of her longing stare at him, her teeth bit down onto her bottom lip in a vain effort to draw his attention. She knew he would not look at her until he was done, and that maddening fact made her only long for his eyes even more.

He knew exactly how to bait her passion, and the things that drove her mad.

After a moment, his hands stopped their attentive examination, and his eyes slowly moved onto her. Her fingers were tugging at the hem of his pant leg, and her eyes demanding every shred of his attention. The way his silken shirt hung open and the top of his chest pulsed slowly with his calm breath only made her impatience grow, though she had already decided that her patience should be rewarded from this midnight attendant. The overwhelming fog in her head was reminiscent of the first times they had met, and those emotionally-charged meetings that forever tied them together. Even now, he had the capacity to strike fear into her, dominate her heart and make her wish they had never met, yet she found she could not deny him, and would always seek him out in a crowded room, regardless of any expectations put upon her.

She wanted to dominate him, if only to see nothing but herself reflected in his pale eyes. Her lips were quivering with unsaid words, and her eyes devoured him.

She keenly waited for anything he had to say to her.

"What do you wish of me, my Queen?" he purred, his voice deep and enthralling in the night. Just the deep baritone pulses made her lean more heavily on the railing and move closer to him, her fingers running up his leg.

"To make you mine. And be yours forever," she replied, unusually bold as her voice reeked of alcohol and desire.

He smiled softly, placing the flute against the castle wall as it met the ancient railing. Swinging his leg over from the desperate cliff, he slipped down to the stone floor and met her, his hands grasping her wrists as he had done so often before. She gasped at his touch, but continued to face him, her chest rising and her chin lifted to meet his gaze. She reveled in the fact that he controlled her, and she only struggled enough to make it a show. In truth, she would have done anything for him at that moment, and did her best to make sure she was the only thing in his eyes.

"Yes, my Queen."

It was his only reply before he stepped into her, pressing his body into hers and lifting her from her feet, his arms wrapped around her waist and his hand fanned across her back. It took her by surprise, but she naturally curled her legs around his waist, her arms locked around his the back of his neck. Her fingers twirling a bit of his hair, she felt playful and laughed, her face red with blood and booze. Her forehead was pressed against his and she gasped against the sensations that racked her body. It was not the dignified position that she wanted to be in as she was swept into someone's arms, but it was infinitely more gratifying. Again, she remarked at how he defied her expectations of him.

But as he carried her back through the silken curtains, into her empty bedchamber and to the soft sheets of her waiting bed, there were very few clear thoughts that came into focus in her mind, other than the utter pleasure that crawled over every inch of her aching body, and the reality-defying bliss that wiped out every muddled memory of the evening before.

In those wonderful movements of Night Music in Arendelle, the Snow Queen was happy.