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The first ball that Elsa attends is in celebration for her own seventeenth birthday. While her mother and father mingle with the nobles of Arendelle (as well as delegates from other nations) and Anna bounces all over the room with a wide smile, Elsa is left standing at the front of the ballroom in her modest black and green gown and blue gloves—and she is absolutely terrified.
“It’s just one night, Elsa,” she remembers her mother reassuring her with a warm smile. “Go out, dance, talk to people. Who knows? You might even meet someone special.”
Elsa casts a look around the room, and she shudders. I don’t want to meet anyone.
Just the thought of having someone so close, someone touching her—
Conceal it, don’t feel it, conceal, don’t feel, don’t feel—
She has to shut her eyes and take a deep, shuddering breath. She should eat something, or perhaps get a drink. Anything warm enough to block the ice, at least for a little while.
Just as she’s about to walk to the table with the refreshments, a guard by the door once again blows his horn to announce a new arrival. Elsa has to resist the urge to just run for her room. However, because she is crown princess and doesn’t want to raise any more suspicions from Arendelle, she stands still and as regal as the rest of her family does—or tries to do, in Anna’s case.
“Presenting, from France, the Marquis of Orléans and his daughter, the Sun Princess!”
Sun Princess? Elsa nearly rolls her eyes, before looking towards the new guests. What sort of name is that for—? Her blue eyes widen, and her mouth drops open a little.
First, there is a man. He is tall, pale, with rich dark hair that rolls down his shoulders in noble waves. His clothing consists of your typical black velvet uniform with brass buttons and shoulder pads, along with a red cloak that likely protects him from Arendelle’s cool weather (while also looking fashionable). He smiles when he sees Elsa’s father and he immediately goes over to exchange pleasantries.
Coming up behind him, however, is his Sun Princess. She is wearing a dress that looked like it was tailored from gold, with a snug bodice, off the shoulder straps, and flowing skirts. It beautifully matches her skin, which is a bit darker in tone than her father’s, but also light enough to reveal the freckles on her cheeks. Her eyes are wide, warm, and hazel—a lovely mesh of brown and green—and her lips painted red, further marking her as a young lady heading toward womanhood. Her hair, long and dark, was let loose and curled along her bare shoulders and down her back.
For the first time that night (possibly ever), Elsa feels warm all over and she has to pull at her collar to get some reprieve. She watches as the girl—the Sun Princess—smiles at the King and Queen, and Anna, greeting them all with a cheerful bow and some words. Then she looks over to where Elsa is and her smile widens. She greets Elsa with a nod that Elsa can’t respond to; she doesn’t even move. Seeing this girl, feeling all this heat, and this pounding of her heart—Elsa feels like the slightest movement of her jelly limbs will cause her to fall apart.
She doesn’t seem to see what’s happening to Elsa, however; she just walks over.
“Hi! You’re Elsa, right, the crown princess? I’m Marie, of Orléans. Please, don’t call me Sun Princess. I don’t understand why my father had that put on the guest list. I haven’t been called that since I was a child!”
Marie laughs, a warm sound that almost rumbles. Then she graces Elsa with a smile that just beams, and she curtsies. “It’s nice to meet you, Princess Elsa.”
Elsa swallows, her blue eyes going wider. Damn.