From the tenor in the voice, Elsa could guess that it was a male. As far as she knew, it was someone unknown to her. There is a doubt that he could’ve been sent here to capture her, but his cry for help meant that he was alone, or maybe he was being false about it to lure her out. Marshmallow’s wrath, on the other hand, not unknown to Elsa, for it proved well in making sure Anna and her Company did not return, and she knew Marshmallow was capable of more than just throwing people out.
“Well, he called for anyone outside,” she said. The statement hung in the air, and the all too familiar beginnings of guilt start turning over in her stomach. Elsa crosses her arm over it. “Bah, I will not risk anymore danger upon him.” An itch to rub her temples made her fingers twitch. She entertained it, but before she felt the sides of her head, her arms went back to keep the churning in her belly. The guilt has hunched her posture, warped her shoulders. A drizzle of snow had begun circling her, and Elsa screwed her eyes shut and wrapped her arms tighter.
The second cry for help was a nail that pricked at her senses.
Bile rose her mouth, and all Elsa could do was push it down her throat. It came like waves on a shore, and it wasn’t a while before nausea accompanied the weight of the guilt. Still, she remained in the walls of her library. Her teeth picked at the broken skin of her lip – it was bleeding – and chattered; not for the coldness in the air, but for the frigidity of her heart.
Outside, Marshmallow bellowed angry shouts and cries at the stranger. It tried to reach up for it in the air, and when it realised that it could not, crystals grew along the sides of its arms. It swung them at the hovering creature, and as it did so, chunks of dangerous crystals were launched into the air. Some of the projectiles hit the sides of the splendid architecture of the palace – bless the handiwork – and tore down large sections of the walls.
Inside, Elsa lingered now near the doorway to the library, and she watched with fearful eyes as all the chandeliers fell down from the tall ceilings. She moved just a blink of an eye too late to seek for cover, and broken piece of ice grazed the skin of her cheek. Scarlet bloomed from that side of her face. Her arms, trembling with nervousness and fear, were now raised in front of her. And she tried to mask herself with all the courage, but she found none and her trembling arms fell again to cover her stomach. Elsa had only the good sense to hide and run away, for that is what she does best. Away she went, deep in her library, and pushed herself back against the farthest corner.
The winter spirit watched as chunks of ice and snow landed on the side wing of the palace, destroying the area almost immediately. He cringed, watching the ice shatter against each other. The palace had been sculpted so nicely, it was such a wasted having it destroyed so brutally.
“Happy?” he said, pointing at the mess with his staff. He had to admit, he felt sorry for the giant; he still thought it owned the ice castle. Or at least, what used to be one.
He turned around and scurried off, wanting to get as far away from the giant as possible. He flew until he reached trees, forests, but not quite far enough to reach the nearest kingdom.
A part of him was hesitating. What was in that ice castle? Why was it there? And more importantly, who would let such a monstrous, dangerous creature live in a part of the world so close to civilization?
In that moment, Jack could've sworn his first instinct was to run - or better yet, fly - away and possible preserve his life, or whatever of it he had left after the monster practically crushed him with his fist, but for reasons inexplicable, he flew back. Back to the castle.
Reaching there, he was careful not to be seen by the monster, and so quickly flew past. Past the broken bridge, past the ice giant, and into the destroyed area.
“Look at all this,” he said, mumbling to himself. He wondered how the giant managed to create such detailed sculptures, noticing the hand-crafted chandelier and the decorated walls. With hands so thick and huge as the giant’s, it almost seemed impossible for it to be able to create and design something so minute.
And then it hit him.
“That thing didn’t create this, did it?”
He looked around, keeping watch in case the giant would return. “Hello?” he called out reluctantly into the opening, his voice diminished to a whisper; although it echoed around the icy walls of the castle.
