There was darkness in that silent wake. It was the most delectable sleep Alve had since the last of Oria’s glides in the dark sky. Have not the tingle of needles upon her feet churned her trance, she would have not lurched to shift. Traveling further into the calmness she ought to last forever, her shivers began to irritate. She caught the breath of cold dry air, and when the reclused prickle finally warped every ounce of her skin, she opened her eyes.

Tardily she glimpsed the blurred reflection of her vanity’s mirror. Oria’s trapped moonlight then caught the foggy rise of the princess’ gasp. It was freezing. The mystical glow of the flower upon Alve’s bedside table however was still intact, but the growing frost devouring its petals prompted the little girl to rise. She took stock of her flat window and discovered the still tranquility of the wind outside. There was no storm any longer but it was beginning to hurt when she moved. With great tremors and her difficulty in size, Alve stood and swung to the sitting room’s doors.

The chamber was empty. Without any servants to bid the barren fireplace, the princess then turned for the guards outside. She began to knock on the door while in pants of plea, “excuse me. I need assistance,” hoping for any response. When silence was its answer, Alve then reached for the door handle but with the saddest of luck, it was locked.

She began to panic. Guilt stricken, Alve thought her imprisonment was payment for her negligence and failure in her studies. Her wager for her Urda’s return. Her continuous complaints of the long hours of repeating letters over and over again. Table etiquette. Walking poise. Dancing stance. Her eerie eyes were upon every reflection. Dejected, she crouched down in front of the double doors and cried, solemnly. She hated the weakness whenever they looked at her as their own faces glistened with fear. She would cry but have only disappointed her cousins, her brother, her uncle, and her father. Perhaps it was due. The chill beneath her bones was at its end. It was perhaps the time to finally never wake up.

Then there was anger, anger inside the room. Alve stood to face the hushed parlor. The clutter of her unfinished art lay still atop her work table, its placement between the untouched bookshelves of etiquettes stood silent. Near the hearth, the gathered long plush couches radiated no comfort for what the princess felt. This anger was hardening just like the cold and was now worrying. There was no fear, however, only her furious turmoil in search of what or who was angry.

Sympathetic, she called out sorely, “why are you angry?”

When there was no response, she began to angle towards the light of her window. Begrudgingly disappointed with the loss of her own balcony, she made use of Oria’s humble glow to scour for the root of the bursting aggravation. When her eyes took notice of permeating white frost on the sullen blue carpet, Alve fought her perception back to the couches. Surrounded by shards of thriving ice, fractals, and even small sickles, the man of dark bluish skin sat sternly on the lounge, eyes glowing white while sneering at the empty hearth.

Unable to notice the person who had entirely been sitting there the whole time, Alve blanched. When the words of the tall mage echoed into her memory, Alve stood erect. Courage, she needs courage. “Umm… Sir?”

The person seemingly ignoring her squelched entreaty, Alve tried again, “My… My Lord? Is there amiss?”

Had it been a blessing if the being did not turn his furrowed loathing towards her small scrambling frame, but the shock on his face right after he faced her melted every anxiety Alve had held in.

“You can see me, child of the north?” He spoke, but more entirely his mind spoke. Baritone and thundering speech hammered Alve’s head as she did not catch his mouth moving. When he stood and asked again, “can you see me, child?” she stuttered to respond.

“Ye-... Yes. Yes, I do.” He wore nothing. Nor anything was there to hide. His long silky white hair however flounced to an empty length of space when he laughed. Much to Alve’s consternation so did his hands and feet. He floated on the carpet, limbs missing on the steps of ice as he made his way towards her. His chuckling was like an avalanche.

Alve closed her eyes and covered her ears in discomfort at the moments of his laughs. When he noticed her distress, he immediately stopped and brisked to her side. “I am sorry,” the weird being said as he enclosed hid frost-bitten hands on hers and gently took them away. “Forgive me, Daima, I forget humans have very fragile psyches.”

The princess did not know that he knelt in front of her, so when she opened her eyes and faced the bluish skin and eyes of white winter, she froze in the humbling moments. When she recalled the particular use of the name, she said, “Daima? I am Alvedaima.” When the being did not mind reply, she asked, “who are you?”

Snarling and smiling were the only times the being used his face. When he smiled at her, he said, “I am what you humans call, an elemental. And you child of the north, are my ward. I owe your mother my protection.”

“Elemental,” Alve whispered in parallel to the elemental standing to look down at her disheveled state. “But if you are an elemental, does that mean…” The princess regarded the being’s azure tint and peaked white hair against the light of the elemental that rests up in the heavens each night. Blue. “You are the Tron Mountain?”

The elemental only smiled again and nodded.

“But if you are the Tron Mountain. Ugh… forgive me, my Lord. If you are my Lord Tron, why are you in my room?” Alve asked, puzzled.

“As I said, I am your guardian. I owe that to your mother.”

“You knew my mother?”

Suddenly, the held cold temperature continued to drop. Tron was angry again, his eyes blazing white, alarmingly absent of any pupils, and face clenched in bitterness. Realizing the mention of her mother changed the elemental’s mood, Alve immediately inclined, “please my Lord Tron, don’t get angry.”

Consciousness and anguish rested on the being’s frame as he seized the freezing and collapsing image of his ward. Determined to control his emotions, the chilling finally stopped. His composure was distraught, and the elemental begged reprieve. “Forgive me, Daima. I have become unchecked. I must leave for your safety alone.”

“Wait. My Lord…”

The terras vanished. The fractals on Alve’s windowpane slowly shrink away into vapor. When she turned to face the only view she has of the outside world, Torion was now rising in the east. Alve sighed. To the princess’ dismay, she could no longer see the purples of the morning celestial as he rose. The only scene that lay upon her window was the old snowed stone edifice of the other buildings trapped inside the expanding palace. She was still held prisoned and alone.