Daphne's story continues!

Read the next first four chapters of the sequel, "The Ice Queen Lives" available on my page now!

Or alternatively, make your way through my spin-off fic, "The Nobody in Room Fourteen", set in the same continuity. The Ice Queen Lives is a little on the edgier side to begin with, while The Nobody takes a more slice of life approach. It's also been struggling so could definitely do with the views, ahaha. Hope they both meet the expectations that have been set by such a long hiatus, I've been hard at work on Youtube and working on an original book series of my own!

Here's a little teaser of The Ice Queen Lives, live to read now!

"Are you coming inside… ?"

There was an odd relationship between this woman and her. They had no relation by blood and thus never had much to do with each other. She had no childhood memories of her to remember, and from Elizabeth's point of view, she imagined she was simply a walking reminder of her lover's previous marriage. She had less of a presence in her sister's life than Moira had had in hers and about the only time they'd see each other were the obligatory Christmas get-togethers and birthdays. Their relationship was built on a shared love for Astoria and clearly, to be getting such hostility from her, was indicative of her current mood. Which she didn't understand.

She watched her from beneath the rim of her large hat. When she did not respond, the woman tried again.

"Listen - I don't care how you're feeling. This isn't about you. Stop being a moody bitch and go say goodbye to your father."

Were her face not frozen from the cold, she may have scolded her for her chosen tone. Instead, she chose to remain icy.

"... I have nothing to say to him."

It was the first time her voice had been used all day, and sounded as such.

Elizabeth's eyes flared.

"Then do it for Astoria. She is in there, crying her eyes out!" she spat in a loud whisper. "She misses her daddy!"

She looked past her to the building shrouded in rain and for a moment, wished it could be as easy as she made it sound.

"... you're her Mum, why don't you look after her? You know, for once?"

She scoffed - a hateful sound.

"For Merlin's sake - she's fifteen, she's just lost her dad, she wants her big sister! What the hell is wrong with -"

"I'm not coming inside."

"Oh, you little… selfish brat!"

She glared under the brim of her hat at her.

"Piss off, Liz."

Elizabeth didn't wait for her to change her mind, as she stormed back towards the procession through the aisles of headstones. She watched the landscape from beneath her hat, trying to decide if they had been watched or not. Though she'd been able to keep out of the eye of other attendee's since leaving the Woodhouse, it was not them she sought to avoid.

Journalists and newspapermen had hovered around the proceedings like flies on manure. It was not every day that the Head Curator of the Department of Magical Artefacts passed away tragically in a boating accident and left behind his two illegitimate daughters as the heirs of their ancient estate. All sorts of dignitaries were arranged to appear; the newest Minister of Magic, various lords from the Sacred Twenty-Eight and some very important members of the Wizengamot. It was all very cunning picking. No mention of any of his lesser-known hobbies. As far as funerals go, this one was as best as anyone could hope for. And was more than the man deserved.

Don't speak ill of the dead, she thought. What nonsense that was. The dead were dead.

Her grieving was over. She held no feelings for the dead man inside that building, anything beyond contempt, anyway, and it was out of respect for others she did not make those true opinions known. But she refused to pretend. She'd meant nothing to him besides being an opportunity for gaining his goals. And he was to her, nothing except the force that caused everything bad that's ever happened to her. He had only himself to blame for the events that led him to that box. He'd made a choice between the family name or the family. And now that family was left without its head and the precious name would die with him. And now because of that, they were as good as orphaned. Even in death she was still suffering the consequences of his actions.

The only grieving in her mind today was for the life she'd never have the chance to live. Perhaps there was a world out there where this was the worst day of her life? That was what she was mourning. The happy family he could have chosen. Or, failing that, the closure she'd be forever denied from now.

At this point, being called selfish was an achievement. She had earned the right. She was raised to be a pet who spoke when spoken to and married rich. She only existed as an extension of his will. So forgive her for not being disappointed that she had the opportunity to be herself. None of it mattered anymore now. His death would not bring her the freedom she wished it would. She'd broken away from his influence too late and fell in too deep. Her actions made under him would be chasing her long after this, and they were not so easily forgotten.

More than just him had died that night. The fanciful side of her that knew if she was a good girl, did as she was told and upheld everyone's expectations, then it'd all be worth it in the end. If she remained as unproblematic as possible, by the end of it she'd be rewarded. She had to be, because otherwise she'd traded her freedom for nothing. Again, an idea that she'd broken from too late. That was never on the cards for her, for it was not her happiness she was seeking to achieve. That innocence died with him and now she saw him for who he was. He had set her on the wrong path and then had left before having to face the consequences. This was the freedom he'd awarded her. All that remained now was that newfound clarity. It was only in numbness that she found her head the clearest it'd ever felt. She forwarded all of the emotions she should have been experiencing today into a singular one. Disdain for the man whose actions lead them to this fateful day, and hatred for the people who stole her life away from her. A piece of her died that night and what was left was a hateful, vengeful shell that sought to wreak the same injustice on the world that had been done to her.

The stars would grow darker again tonight, but still, they would remain. She could never be herself again, because Daphne Greengrass had died that night. All that remained now was a haunted vessel of hate.