The King’s Judgment.

The second Elsa stepped into the throne room, she felt it. A very suffocating weight. The air was thick and cold, pressing down like it was some sort of warning. It was almost like stepping into the lair of something ancient, something that could devour her whole and not blink while at it.

The only sound was the slow, deliberate rustling of paper. The king sat on a little seat directly below his throne, flipping through some ink and ancient paper that was on the table before him like she wasn't even worth a glance. Like she was a speck of dust that had just floated in, and he was debating whether to bother brushing it off or just let it rot in place.

Okay. What now? What was she supposed to do? Was she supposed to speak? Announce herself? Maybe drop dead on the spot and save everyone the trouble?

She cleared her throat. Nothing.

She shifted on her feet. Nothing.

Oh, fantastic. This is how it ends. Trapped in a room with a some old king who probably can't even hear her breathing over his own self-importance.

Finally—after what felt like an entire lifetime—he spoke. "You embarrassed yourself today, Lady Elsa."

Her spine went rigid. His voice was calm. Too calm. That eerie, spine-chilling calm that people used right before they snapped someone's neck and acted like they hadn't done it.

"And by extension," he continued, finally lifting those ice-chip eyes to her, "you embarrassed me. That is something I do not tolerate, in the slightest."

Her stomach dropped. Oh, well, isn't that just peachy? Does that mean she's getting exiled? Sent to some old dungeon? Maybe just killed on the spot to save everyone the time?

Elsa forced herself to stay still, to not let the nerves crawl up her throat. The king, her husband—she gagged—set his papers down and stood.

And the room immediately shrank. Just like that.

He took a step forward, slow, controlled, like a predator cornering prey. "You need to understand something, Elsa." Each word was sharp, precise and sinking into her like cold steel. "Even if you are not here by your own will, you have no right to be so disrespectful about it. This marriage was never about you or what you want in the first place, it never will be. All that is expected from you is to simply obey every rule I tell you to, like a good bride would or you will regret it."

Her fingers twitched. Every part of her was screaming to snap back, to throw something, to tell this ice-cold old bastard exactly what he could do with his threats.

Her lips parted to do just that but then…

"Oh, yeah, go ahead," Iris's voice slid into her thoughts, dripping with sarcasm. "Tell him those thoughts of yours. Yell at him! Maybe even throw in a joke about his receding hairline while you're at it. You can make it extra spicy with all that so he can have you executed before dinner. Why waste more time, right?"

Elsa inhaled sharply, forcing her mouth shut before something reckless could escape.

The king didn't move. He did not blink either. He just watched, waiting for her to dare speak something that would have him end it there and then.

Elsa was still frozen as usual, only inhaling sharply. Every instinct, every cell in her body screamed against what Iris had just suggested.

"You have a better idea?" she muttered under her breath, barely moving her lips.

Iris didn't hesitate. "Why, yes, actually. I do have a very brilliant idea. Beg."

Elsa physically recoiled. A full-body flinch. "Excuse me?"

"Beg," Iris repeated, sounding way too casual for someone actively destroying her dignity. "Grovel. Pathetically. Make yourself so pitiful he loses interest in killing you. It's basic survival skill."

Elsa wanted to throw up. No—she wanted to throw herself out of the nearest window, take this whole godforsaken palace down with her, leave nothing but ashes and traumatized witnesses—

The king's stare burned into her. Cold. Sharp. Patient.

While her nails dug into her palms. Hard. She felt the sting but welcomed it. 

Her head dipped. And then—

Her knees hit the floor. The action was so sudden that nobody could have seen it coming at all.

Disgust crawled up her throat, but she pushed through it. "I…" The words tasted like poison. Like something she needed to spit out before it rotted her from the inside. She swallowed them down instead. "I deeply regret my actions, Your Majesty."

Oh, she was going to vomit.

"I was overwhelmed," she continued, voice measured, forced, deliberately shaking. "And I failed to compose myself as a proper bride to a great king should. It will not happen again."

Silence. Suffocating, crushing silence was all that greeted her. She could feel the weight of it pressing down on her, like hands on her shoulders, like chains wrapped around her throat.

But she kept going. She had to. "I only wish to fulfill my duty." She took a breath. Or more like a pause, there was a calculated tremble in her tone as she continued. "I swear, I will do better. Just… please."

She could have choked on the shame.

Still, the king didn't move.

He Didn't speak neither did he blink as well. For the first seconds until he then exhaled. Just barely. And for a fraction of a second, Elsa swore she saw it—satisfaction. A Wicked satisfaction.

"See?" he murmured. "You can be obedient after all."

Elsa clenched her teeth so hard she felt it in her skull.

"If you truly wish to prove yourself, you will not test me again." The words were ice, slicing through the thick air between them. "And you will not make another mistake, Elsa."

His gaze locked onto hers, unyielding, absolute. "Because there will not be a third chance."

She thought about it for a second, so she must have already offended him twice? But she quickly inhaled sharply, her head still bowed. "Yes, Your Majesty."

The words came out steady, like it was controlled. But inside, she felt like she had just been scraped raw as humiliation clung to her like filth.

But she was still alive.

And that? That was something.

Iris hummed in her head, way too pleased. "See? Wasn't so bad, was it?"

Elsa, still on the ground, her hands clenched into fists in her lap, had exactly one response. I hope you rot.

The air in the room was still of course thick with a lot of things unsaid especially from Elsa that had to fake it to make it, the air was still thick with the kind of tension that made her want to set herself on fire just to feel clean again.

Just then, the door swung open. 

Elsa flinched, the atmosphere cracking around her as a woman strode in, deep blue robes flowing around her like she owned the entire kingdom. Her expression was sharper than a knife. The kind of sharp that cut before you even realized you'd been wounded.

Behind her trailed a man who looked… exhausted. Like he'd rather be anywhere else but here.

Elsa didn't know who they were. But the sheer authority rolling off them was enough to make her breath hitch.

Something about them told her this was about to get worse, and she could only hope that she was wrong.