The Night Beckons

“By frailty, I mean that my heart has become softer. I once thought I’d hardened myself to be ruthless. Uncompromising. Able to hurt without regret. But ever since I met Anna, my heart has become… easier to hurt. Or perhaps I only convinced myself I couldn’t be hurt, and Anna’s honesty has forced me to relinquish my lie.”

She walks over to the kitchen, not bothering to slip her heels back on. Her voice recedes but you can hear her voice, until she re-emerges in the living room with two glasses of red liquid. “No, it’s not blood,” she adds, rolling her eyes, as she offers you a glass. “Just wine. Aged to perfection, two decades. From Bordeaux.” You accept the glass.

“You saw me back there. Struggling. In pain. Terrified of hurting anyone. That’s what Anna’s done to me. What you’ve done to me.” She lowered her head. “That’s why I see myself as Arendelle’s shadow protector. I don’t wish to be a force of pain or destruction.”