"Conceal it. Don't feel it. Don't let it show. Conceal it. Don't feel it. Don't let it show. Fear is your enemy. Fear is your-
Elsa's foot had miss calculated the distance to the next step going up. With her extraordinary reflexes she quickly caught herself running up the remaining steps. Shutting the door behind her she repeated the same words over and over.
Fear is you enemy.
It was the night when she came close to killing her sister, Anna. The trolls stripped Anna of the memories, leaving her with zero knowledge of Elsa's powers. They told her that fear was not only her enemy but drove her powers as well. The only solution was to keep her and the cryokinetic abilities in isolation.
That tragic night coincidently was also when the nightmares began.
These chilling fantasies brought her to tears at the rise of the moon. The one thing that her parents thought could help her escape her fears encouraged them. Go away. Go away. Go away. Go away. GO. AWAY! Elsa extended her arm, shooting dangerously sharp icicles into the subject of the oil paintings chest. The priceless art piece was a self-portrait painted on her 16th birthday.
Elsa then fell to the floor with the grace of a snowflake. The war in her mind had taken a toll on her body and she needed to rest.
Don't sleep. You cannot sleep. You can't go back you understand? You can't change that night. Your parents won't forgive you. How will they ever love you if they can't even forgive what you've done. It's too late now to ask for their forgiveness. They're already dead.
A single tear fell from the icy blue eye of Elsa's stunning face. But as it touched her skin it quickly turned to ice. The curse wouldn't even enable her to cry.
"Darrrrliiinggg. Now. Don't you cry…
Oh wait you can't." Laughter bounced off the high walls.
Elsa was alone. It was impossible for someone to be in here. All the possible routes enabling someone to enter her room ran through her head in seconds… because there were none. Impossible. Impossible. Impossible. It's just in your head. Don't be stupid someone is obviously in here. Impossible. Impossible. Impossible. Listen to me there is someone here. Impossible… Yellow eyes flicked in her mirror. Past the tapestries. Again in the mirror. Shadows moved disregarding the total darkness.
"There can't be shadows darker than dark itself." she mumbled under her breath.
"Oh what a misconception. Such an ignorant statement. Quite insulting actually. I mean at least I hope that wasn't an insult, for your own sake of course."
Elsa frantically tried to find the voice's source. Fear is your own enemy.
"I order you to show yourself caster of shadows!" She tried to channel a strong powerful women. It was working.
"I like that. Castor of Shadows" The voice mocked her bravery. Her temper started to rise.
"You know I may use that. Very mysterious. You may be creative but your bravery is no match for FEAR. I know that word has a significant effect on you. No use in hiding it your eyes can't keep their mouths shut. Now what would you call your surroundings? Dark? Veryyyy Dark? Black?-
"Pitch Black. I would call the current condition pitch black." Elsa was gaining confidence. She stood straighter. She looked into the darkness with a straight face. Although there was nothing scarier than an invisible predator, she felt stable again. Ready.
"And she's smart too." Elsa couldn't tell if it was more mockery or if the yellow eyes and voice with no owner were serious.
The shadow came closer. The more it moved towards her the better she could identify the outline of a man. The room's temperature came down to freezing point. Not that Elsa minded. The cold never bothered her anyway.
A hand touched her face.
SHUOOOSH! In a matter of seconds Elsa sent a whiplash of frost over the shadow, creating a film around the figure. Suspending Pitch Black's movement for only seconds Elsa had managed to put a few feet between them.
"Finally! Someone who knows how to have a little fun! In all honesty here you are not the first person I've said this to."
A black harpoon grazed Elsa's porcelain skin. The difference a few millimeters could make.
"That right I can create weapons with my black sand sweetie."
"DON'T CALL ME THAT." Sweetie was what her mother, former queen of Arendelle, would call her before the night that ruined it all. She defiantly did not want to hear it from someone who had her name on the top of their hunting list.
Then, as if in practiced unison, Pitch Black and Elsa pounded on another with their powers. Equal in strength and power. Dark against light. This fight for power went on for approximately 15 minutes until they both surrendered, a surprise to both opponents.
"You stubborn, hard headed princes- ah wait. Forgive me. I completely forgot about your parents TRAGGICC deaths, Queen Elsa."
Elsa began to suffocate. It seemed as though Pitch Black was manipulating the shadows and using them for his personal chores.
Her vision became spotty. Until she could honestly say she could only see pitch black.
The next morning she wondered if last night was another nightmare.
The bruises on her neck told her otherwise.