har aldri sett på en som tenker helt som jeg jinx, jinx igjen! og den slags synkronisering kan bare ha en forklaring: du og jeg går på samme vei si farvel til en fortid i frykt vi kan glemme alt ting som var før alt blir en åpen dør, alt blir en åpen dør livet er slik det bør med deg med deg alt blir en åpen dør![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
koldblodet
Jul. 7th, 2014 04:13 amA coronation ought to have been the worst conceivable thing to happen to Anna. For the last three days, as a matter of fact, she had been curled up outside of her sister's door, telling her exactly that. It wasn't fair. Elsa couldn't be queen, she already had too many distractions. If she took the throne, then she would never have time to play. Never even have time to think about it, which, no matter what she said (or didn't say, more often), at least she did now, sometimes.
But, by the time it rolled around - after she had let off some steam in the cabinets (making sure that eight thousand salad plates became something more like seven thousand and sixty three, once she lost interest) - it didn't seem so horrid. Kai, unperturbed by the mess she left for him to sweep up, as usual, let it slip that their guests would be arriving soon and that, if she was quick, she might catch some of the ships coming in from her bedroom window.
Elsa never told her anything about a party or dancing or visitors. Never warned her that the empty halls would soon be spilling over with people, come to congratulate the new queen of Arendelle. But what would they say to the queen's sister?
The view from her parents' window was even more magnificent than it would have been from hers. She almost forgot herself, blowing frost on the window so she could keep count of each mast she could see, out in the harbour. She counted horses and riders and ball gowns and maypoles and burst into a wail for each one that she couldn't go out and pet or greet or wear or dance around. This couldn't be, the one day of her whole existence that she might have finally had the chance to know what life there was beyond the gates of the palace, and Elsa - like their parents before her - would never allow her share in it.
But let them try and stop her. She found the perfect hiding spot in the chapel, just behind the altar. When she knew no one would see her, she stood up on her tiptoes and blew on the orb and scepter. They would already be cold to the touch, by the time Elsa had to take them without her gloves! Anna fell into a fit of giggles, during the ceremony, when they hit the pillow again, covered in a thin layer of her sister's frost. Didn't anyone else see that? Wasn't anyone else going to get mad about what she could do?
Anna scanned the crowd for a reaction, but there was nothing. All those faces, and none of them - oh. If her still heart could have leaped out of her chest, it surely would have. For only an instant, she caught someone's eye, not on Elsa. On her. Not on her, that was almost impossible, wasn't it? He was in the second row and looked about as bored with this half of the affair as she was getting. And he was beautiful.
Enough hiding. No one wanted to see her, least of all Elsa, so who would know? She climbed up the side of the pew and perched near the man - a prince, she decided, even if he wasn't. It was worse, up close. She had never wanted something so bad - save for her sister's attention, maybe - for as long as she could remember. If her mind hadn't been made up already, it would be now. She kissed his cheek and left the ceremony behind.
In her own bedroom, staring at the dusty portrait of her parents, Anna tried something that she only ever managed twice before. (Both times, Elsa had cried, even said her name out loud, instead of just in her head.) With her prince in mind, it was even easier than she recalled to think big thoughts. There was a dress she found in her mother's wardrobe and before long, with a little guidance from the painting and all the imagination she could muster, Anna filled into it like she would have if she'd lived to see her eighteenth year.
Out of habit, she stuck near the ballroom's drapes and corners, but more than once, she had to accept someone's apology for bumping into her or standing in her way. She returned gracious smiles, curtsied when appropriate, but mostly sneaked her way through the crowd, without alarming too many people. That meant she had done well, right? Maybe, but what did it matter, if she couldn't find her prince?
How hopeless. The double doors to the mezzanine were open, though. That was a first, at least. There wouldn't be any hopping the raining to run away, like she sometimes wished she could, but at least no one would tell Anna to come in from her own balcony if no one was out there to see her. As usual.
But, by the time it rolled around - after she had let off some steam in the cabinets (making sure that eight thousand salad plates became something more like seven thousand and sixty three, once she lost interest) - it didn't seem so horrid. Kai, unperturbed by the mess she left for him to sweep up, as usual, let it slip that their guests would be arriving soon and that, if she was quick, she might catch some of the ships coming in from her bedroom window.
Elsa never told her anything about a party or dancing or visitors. Never warned her that the empty halls would soon be spilling over with people, come to congratulate the new queen of Arendelle. But what would they say to the queen's sister?
The view from her parents' window was even more magnificent than it would have been from hers. She almost forgot herself, blowing frost on the window so she could keep count of each mast she could see, out in the harbour. She counted horses and riders and ball gowns and maypoles and burst into a wail for each one that she couldn't go out and pet or greet or wear or dance around. This couldn't be, the one day of her whole existence that she might have finally had the chance to know what life there was beyond the gates of the palace, and Elsa - like their parents before her - would never allow her share in it.
But let them try and stop her. She found the perfect hiding spot in the chapel, just behind the altar. When she knew no one would see her, she stood up on her tiptoes and blew on the orb and scepter. They would already be cold to the touch, by the time Elsa had to take them without her gloves! Anna fell into a fit of giggles, during the ceremony, when they hit the pillow again, covered in a thin layer of her sister's frost. Didn't anyone else see that? Wasn't anyone else going to get mad about what she could do?
Anna scanned the crowd for a reaction, but there was nothing. All those faces, and none of them - oh. If her still heart could have leaped out of her chest, it surely would have. For only an instant, she caught someone's eye, not on Elsa. On her. Not on her, that was almost impossible, wasn't it? He was in the second row and looked about as bored with this half of the affair as she was getting. And he was beautiful.
Enough hiding. No one wanted to see her, least of all Elsa, so who would know? She climbed up the side of the pew and perched near the man - a prince, she decided, even if he wasn't. It was worse, up close. She had never wanted something so bad - save for her sister's attention, maybe - for as long as she could remember. If her mind hadn't been made up already, it would be now. She kissed his cheek and left the ceremony behind.
In her own bedroom, staring at the dusty portrait of her parents, Anna tried something that she only ever managed twice before. (Both times, Elsa had cried, even said her name out loud, instead of just in her head.) With her prince in mind, it was even easier than she recalled to think big thoughts. There was a dress she found in her mother's wardrobe and before long, with a little guidance from the painting and all the imagination she could muster, Anna filled into it like she would have if she'd lived to see her eighteenth year.
Out of habit, she stuck near the ballroom's drapes and corners, but more than once, she had to accept someone's apology for bumping into her or standing in her way. She returned gracious smiles, curtsied when appropriate, but mostly sneaked her way through the crowd, without alarming too many people. That meant she had done well, right? Maybe, but what did it matter, if she couldn't find her prince?
How hopeless. The double doors to the mezzanine were open, though. That was a first, at least. There wouldn't be any hopping the raining to run away, like she sometimes wished she could, but at least no one would tell Anna to come in from her own balcony if no one was out there to see her. As usual.