~𝒩𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝐿𝑒𝓉 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒢𝑜~

3. Warm Hugs with a Killer

(Y/N)'s POV

"Hi. I'm Olaf and I like warm hugs."

I feel like I'm about to pass out from exhaustion and fear; nevertheless, I manage to keep my eyes open as the snowman hugs me. Luckily, all of the jutting ice spikes on his body are mostly on his back, and he's careful not to stab me with them.

Having the sense that if I don't give the monster or Olaf affection, I'll die, I begrudgingly wrap my arms around the giant snowman. My body pressed against his cold chest. Despite his icy exterior, Olaf's hug radiate a sense of love and compassion that soothes several of my worries.

We 'hug' in the forest for a while, with Olaf muttering about 'warm hugs', and 'Anna' before saying something about Elsa. At the mention of the Snow Queen's real name, my heart skips a beat. Then an idea forms.

"Olaf, can you take me to Elsa, please?" I ask in a sickly sweet voice.

Olaf tilts his head as if thinking.

"We can do a group hug with Elsa," I add, and that seems to make Olaf satisfied.

"More warm hugs!" He happily exclaims, next placing me on top of his shoulder, which I do my best to balance on and not fall off.

"Yes, Olaf, more warm hugs."

'And hopefully some answers.'

We begin our journey back to the ice stairs and castle, my stomach lacing with joy and apprehension.

After all, traversing this land is dangerous with its natural dangers, let alone a murderous queen who manipulates deadly ice and snow at her whim.

As we make our way through the chilly forest, my body sways with the clunky movements of the giant snowman atop his shoulder. The winter wind hits my face, rubbing my almost numb cheeks, but the stinging of the cold doesn't bother me as much as it should, as I start drowning in memories of forewarning tales of Elsa.

'She kills in cold blood.'

'The Ice Queen could freeze the entire world down to its core if she is in a bad enough mood.' My aunt had warned me, not daring to utter Her real name.

'She's just like ice—cold and dangerous.'

'She killed her sister, her parents, her kingdom, and her dog without a second thought.'

Ok, granted, those aspects of the tale are often embellishments, but still, all rumors come from somewhere. Right?

I can't help but wonder what awaits me at Elsa's ice palace. The thought of finally meeting the Snow Queen fills me with zeal and anxiety.

As my inner gears turn in intense thought, and my eyebrows furrow until I notice another perspective of the beauty of winter: how the setting sun illuminates icicles hanging off the branches like chandeliers, lighting the ice in rich oranges, such as the color of Olaf's carrot nose.

Winter can be as beautiful as it can be dangerous.

With the ice stairs in our sight, Olaf chats with me.

"You know, Elsa never hurt anyone before, but she was hurt inside for a long time. Hurt so much that none of my hugs fixed her. She so sad and she seems lonely. I want Elsa happy. Will you make Elsa happy, new friend? Maybe you can cheer her up and fix her so she's happy?

I bite the inside of my cheek, pondering the snowman's statements and questions. I might as well agree so Olaf doesn't hurt me. He may have a gentle personality, but anyone can become a killer if pushed.

"Yes, Olaf, I'll try and make her happy."

"Yay!"

As I sit upon Olaf's shoulder, I observe the snowy world from the new high height. Suddenly, something in the snow grabs my attention, and I gasp.

My eyes grow wide seeing human corpses frozen in the snow, preserved like ice mummies. Some of the bodies seem mangled and squashed as if Olaf had stepped on them; others have large spears of ice stabbing them in the chest. A grimace spreads across my face at the sight.

Is this why no one returned home?

Olaf seems to sense my discomfort.

"They didn't want to hug me." He says. "Then they tried to hurt me and Elsa. I'm glad you didn't. You're nice and give warm hugs."

I give a weak smile now, believing I'm only alive because I succumbed to a hug.

I suppress a shiver that either stems from the chilliness or the thought of my close tragic end.

By the time Olaf and I make it back to the ice palace, the day has taken its rest, and the moon is perched in the sky high, gleaming a bright white, and illuminating Elsa's majestic fortress.

The giant snowman keeps me perched on his shoulder like a parrot as he pushes the grand doors of the ice palace open.

Immediately, I feel some relief from the cold. The temperature within the ice castle is warmer than outside. It's still slightly cool, but there's no bitter wind inside.

My heart races and my (e/c) eyes start to water at the realization that it's real. The legend of the Snow Queen is real, and I'm in her castle.

I gaze around at the frozen architecture, completely in stupefaction. This must be the great hall of the castle, with the monumental and intricate ice throne, lavishly high ceilings, stunning crystal chandelier, and sensational royal-like staircase all made of ice. Each piece had such fine detail that no ice carver, no matter how old or experienced, could ever achieve this level of craft—only an Ice Queen could.

Olaf yells into the castle, like a husband calling, 'Honey, I'm home!'

"Elsa! I brought us a friend! You'll like her! She is kind and pretty and gave me a warm up!"

Olaf then gently grabs my body and sets me down to stand on the ground. I wobble, trying to catch my balance with practically numb legs and an ice floor underneath.

My boots slide across the floor despite their light grip. I chuckle, from a mix of excitement and uneasiness in my system. I've never been ice skating before, and now I'm doing it in a magical castle.

I push my body forward; okay, try, but my legs start doing the splits, and I have to quickly scramble to fix my position before my body is ripped in two.

Olaf seems to find my skating display fun and soon joins me. He glides effortlessly across the ice, to me. He naturally performs jumps and turns, his carrot nose bouncing with each movement. Despite my initial clumsiness, I can't help but feel a surge of determination to improve my skating skills and keep up with Olaf's playful antics.

"You can do it!" The giant snowman encourages, and he is right. I manage to stand—kind of—on the ice while gliding a few inches here and there as Olaf claps. I try to mimic Olaf's graceful movements, but my legs wobble and threaten to give out. However, with each failed attempt, I become more determined to conquer the ice and match Olaf's skill. As I continue to practice, I can't help but feel a sense of accomplishment with every small improvement I make.

We skate for a few minutes together until a shadow falls over my frame. A stern, feminine voice echoes the icy halls.

"Good evening, m'lady; why are you on my mountain?"