Author's Note: And now comes the second-to-last chapter of The North Wind, as promised; thanks again to everyone who has faved, followed, and reviewed the story thus far. This will be my last intrusion at the top, as the last part - Part XII - will be presented without comment.
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Sleep.
It was strange, she thought, how she had gotten so much of it whilst whittling her days away up in her parents' bedroom, since it now escaped her almost entirely.
And it wasn't as if she had so much energy to spare in the first place—in fact, she was bone-weary, and needed rest more than anything else.
But every time she felt her eyes finally begin to flutter shut, unable to stay open any longer, something—or someone—forced her to awaken again.
That morning it had been a guard reading a message from the Duke with details of the public execution—where, when, what they were and were not allowed to do and say—and she had been just conscious enough to make out, albeit fuzzily, his gruff, terse words.
It's only a few hours away, now.
Night was drawing in around them as her head swayed from side to side, and she wondered, vaguely, when the guards would start snoring.
Five minutes? No, probably more like ten . . .
It was the only sound she could rely on to remind her that she was, in fact, still alive, since her talks with Hans had virtually ceased.
Even though she felt as though she had finally come to grips with what he'd said by then, she didn't know how to respond to it—nor how she should respond to it.
I hate him.
No—I don't hate him.
She frowned tiredly at her conflicting thoughts, and brushed a stray bang from her face.
I hate . . . what?
Her forehead scrunched in contemplation, and finally, when the answer came to her, she felt a little relieved.
I hate that he waited so long to say it.
There was a part of her that had innately known, all along, that he had been regretting his decision to lock her in one room or another. That much had become apparent the first time he'd blown up at her, after she'd asked him why he insisted on keeping her in the castle.
You don't understand at all!
She thought, upon recollection, that the phrase had been tinged with more than a hint of shame; then again, that could have been her exhausted mind manipulating her memories to fit her current image of Hans. Either way, she was sure, now, that he was sincere in his remorse, and in his desire for her to leave.
Still, she couldn't bring herself to tell him that she knew of his guilt—that she'd known, in fact—nor could she find the will to speak to him at all in the long days that followed.
I'm afraid I'll say something I regret.
There—there was the problem, she thought with an acrid look: her inability to be truthful with herself . . . or with anyone else, for that matter.
I wish I wasn't like this.
She frowned at the piteous thought, her fists clenching.
"I wish," "I hope," "I'm afraid" . . . why am I like this?
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The North Wind
Fanfiction[Frozen; Alternate Ending; Hans x Elsa.] "If they knew you were still alive, they would never stop hunting you," he told her bluntly. "As long as you're here, you're safe from them." Elsa's stare turned hard and bitter at these words; and yet his da...
