She was fifteen years old. Her lithe, thin body hung from two metal manacles attached to chains that ran through two metal rings several meters above, set in the rocky ceiling high above. Looking up at her hands, fully enclosed in the heavy metal restraints, she followed the chains up to the ceiling and then back down to large spools to either side of her. Ahead, she could barely make out the faint outline of a door, set in the roughly hewn rock wall a scant few meters away. From beyond it, she heard what seemed to be muffled voices in conversation.

The room was hot and musty. The acrid smell of sweat hung heavy in the air. Sticky strands of her long hair stuck to her forehead and cheeks, brushing against her eyelashes and stinging her eyes. Blinking, she could make out a shadow on the wall, dancing with an orange halo due to the single torch on what must have been the stone wall behind her. The dark reflection swung from side to side on the rough rock wall, legs swinging like a black human pendulum. She looked down. A foot below her lay the dirt-strewn, rocky floor. Pain burst forth from her taut shoulders as she recognized the shadow on the wall as hers. She was hanging.

Fear and panic slowly crept in from the back of her mind. The chains rattled and scraped against the ceiling rings as she started swinging wildly, her bare legs trying futilely to reach the safety of the ground below. 'Her bare legs'. A further level of terror gripped her as she realized her complete nakedness.

Patches of glistening sweat covered her unclothed body. More drops streamed from her forehead, sliding along matted strands of her hair and leaving trails down her back, around her breasts, down her legs all the way to her toes, where they leapt off her body onto a growing puddle on the floor. It was getting hotter. As if someone had lit a pyre on the ground below her. The room grew brighter. The torchlight appeared to be getting stronger. Her breathing grew more shallow and extremely strained.

The voices behind the door grew louder, more frantic and exasperated. Whoever they were, they were shouting now - at each other. The argument seemed to be getting worse. And it was heading closer. Whoever the voices belonged to, they were headed towards the room, for better...or worse.

There was a loud crash, like the sound of a tall pine tree falling on a snow-covered pile of rocks in the dead silence of winter. Eyes shut in terror, she registered the loud grinding of metal against metal, accompanied by a sudden release of pain from her shoulders. She screamed out loud as blood flowed back into her formerly-numb limbs. The sensation of a thousand tiny needles embedded in her tender flesh. Suddenly, the unbearable heat of the room was replaced by the comforting warmth of a blanket being caringly wrapped around her. She felt herself being carried, past crude stone hallways lit only by the most meager of lamps.

"You're going to be alright now." her rescuer said. "I won't let them do this to you anymore. Everything's going to be ok." She felt the rough caress of calloused fingers stroke her left cheek. It was a familiar feeling. With the sweltering sensation gone, she braved a weak smile accompanied by a peek at her rescuer's face. Still adjusting from the darkness she had been in for the past...hours? Days? She tried to make out his blurry face. His features gradually came into focus as her eyes let the moonlight in. A familiar face.

Elsa opened her eyes to find herself back in the comfortable safety of her bed in the queen's quarters of Arendelle castle. As she tried hard to banish the images of the nightmare she had been freed of, a single thought remained in her mind - the all-too familiar face of her rescuer. Kristoff.