12. Crocus Lips and Tundra Mind

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(Y/N) Point View

I swallow hard before biting the inside of my cheek. Letters and words wiggle into blurs on the page as I hold the book with shaky hands. My heart pounds in my chest, matching the rapid rhythm of my trembling fingers.

Why is reading out loud so embarrassing all of a sudden?

Reading to Olaf has never been uncomfortable, but reading to Elsa with her intense gaze on me, as if her eyes can see underneath my clothes, my undergarments, beneath my skin, and deep into the smallest crevices of my soul, is nerve-racking, to say the least.

The weight of the book in my hands feels heavier with each passing moment, as if it's mocking my inability to transfer the words to my tongue. I let out a breath, but when trying to read the words becomes like daggers to my eyes, I look up from the pages.

Anxious (e/c) eyes glance from optimistic black then to intellectual light blue.

I quickly look back down at the pages as warmth still tingles my cheeks from the previous intimate moment Elsa and I experienced. An almost kiss.

As I try to concentrate on the pages, I can't help my thoughts from swimming like the mermaid I should be reading aloud about. Questions bubble in my mind as I wonder, what if I didn't pull away from Elsa? What if I kissed her, and she kissed me back?

For a heartbeat, regret ripples through me for not kissing the enchanting beauty.

But the feelings that followed makes my stomach churn, imagining all the possibilities of the outcome after the kiss; if I had let my heart win in the moment. Possibilities, both good and bad. Some very bad.

Murderer. Elsa is a cold and calculated murderer. And I am not, nor do I want to be, associated with a killer.

I want to return home and continue living my life in peace. If I allow any more attachment toward Elsa and Olaf to grow, then there will be problems, because, as I witnessed on the first night of my stay, I would want to leave and Olaf and Elsa would want me to stay. Maybe even force me to stay.

A shiver runs down my spine, as if thinking about the amount of cold that would be deep into my bones spending the next decades in this snowy fortress, was summoned the chill into me.

"(Y/N), Why aren't you reading? Olaf asks with concern.

Feeling the questioning gaze of the flushed, but demure queen, I blab a reply to Olaf.

"Just warming up my eyes." I rashly say. Then I blink several times as what I just said hits me like a crashing wave. Redness adds to my already pink cheeks, and my heart picks up pace, thudding like the snowflakes hitting the study's large gothic crystal windows.

I open my mouth to defend myself from my stupid comment, when the study erupts in giggles.

Olaf rolls onto the floor, boisterously laughing as he wheezes,

"Warming up your eyes?!" His laugh grows, and his torso and head bobble. "Humans-Humans are so silly! Do you warm up your ears too?"

Soon, a rich laughter comes from Elsa. She clutches her stomach with her blonde bangs bouncing to frame her face.

My shoulders close inward, and my knuckles turn white grasping the book, partly wishing to dive into the pages. Maybe in the fantasy world of mermaids, I would give the sea witch my voice to prevent myself from saying anything more stupid.

Although Olaf and Elsa have no malice in their words or in their laughter, the action stings.

What am I, a five-year-old spouting gibberish? What's next? My feet are eating the leaves, and my toenails are the teeth? [My niece did say something like this when she was five once.]

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