Status: Slowly active. Work in progress.
Stockholm
Chapter three.
Christmas had the dubious honour of being celebrated as the most wonderful time of the year. That is one hell of a title to live up to and for the most part the Frost’s celebrated in style. It was the one time they’d get together as a family and give thanks. It was sort of combined with Thanksgiving as that was a holiday that held no sway over the family but it was definitely an excuse for celebration.
Usually on Christmas Eve the entire family with their spouses and children would dress up in their most expensive gowns, competing with each other to see who would get the approving nod from their mother whilst the men worked hard all year around to get the approving nod from the big boss, the patriarch himself. They’d list all of their accomplishments from that year and see who would win. This twisted competition took part in the massive ballroom of the Maldives house, the only mock-old aspect of the house but it had been built as a requirement for Christmas Eve. It was closed off all year round, seen as something not fitting with their usual thoroughly modern décor and only ever opened at Christmas Eve fully decorated and waiting with staff to cater the party.
When Annabelle was younger and they had celebrated Christmas on some other tropical island the ballroom there was also decorated behind closed doors and Annabelle believed that elves worked secretly behind those doors to create the wonder Annabelle still felt as a child. Her brothers and sisters encouraged this childlike belief, her and the brother a year older than her believed it for a long time. They kept it to themselves, like a dirty little secret. They always thought that their parents would never allow such frivolous beliefs so the oldest sister had discovered the idea of Santa and promised herself that all of the children who came after her would believe in magic when she couldn’t. So she’d sneak into the tree room on Christmas Eve night after the party with some labels and expertly change the labels to read ‘from Santa’. All but one of the Frost children developed and dispersed their belief in Santa Clause and magic by themselves encouraged by the eldest sister.
But since then Annabelle had held a certain fascination with Christmas Eve, much more excited about it than any other holiday despite the fierce competition that dominated the night. Annabelle never put herself in to, around her parents a lot more than the others and so felt no need to try and please them. This meant that she was free to float around the room, talking to the staff and laugh inwardly at the rest of her family clambering for attention. There was only one downside to the Christmas Ball and that was the fact that Michael never attended. The only days off he was allowed a year were Christmas Eve, Christmas Day and Boxing Day and he never chose to attend the Ball. He was around the decadence and competition most of the time and he was hesitant to attend dressed in a tuxedo. The one time he’d done so, the first one of his time with the Frost’s, Eleanor had tried to sleep with him, thinking him an inexperienced and impressionable young man. Whilst he was young and in a bittersweet type of awe of the Frosts’ lifestyle, bitter at the idea that people could live as wastefully as they did when people were living like he had been, Michael was far from inexperienced and knew exactly what Eleanor’s game had been. Ever since then he had avoided the Ball like the plague and, once Annabelle learnt the reason for his avoidance when she was old enough and was wise to the extra-marital affairs, she stopped begging for his reason. She never asked him to attend as she knew he would say yes, just for her. And so she never asked him, allowing him his time off away from her and in the small but beautiful house set aside for all of the bodyguards around Christmas time.
Unfortunately it didn’t make the party a little bit duller but that was only because Annabelle felt a dull ache in her gut and suffered from a heavy chest whenever Michael wasn’t around.
“Your bodyguard is still not attending Anna?” Eleanor’s disappointed tone cut through the wistful memories of Annabelle as she floated towards her youngest daughter in the midst of the ball, dressed in beautiful vintage. Anna had to give it to her mother; she always did look stunning all of the time. It was a prerequisite for being married to Gideon.
“You ask this every year mother.” She gritted her teeth at her mother who only seemed concerned at the lack of eye candy rather than being impressed by her children, “he doesn’t like the Ball. He video calls his family around this time to be with them at Christmas.”
“Ah what a pity. Well!” Eleanor was never disappointed for long, “we’re leaving tonight dear. We’ve been invited to the Alps. How fun. I hope you don’t mind. Just get Michael to come and keep you company hmm dear?” And with that Eleanor floated away to go back to socialising with the family leaving Anna alone in the party with her mouth hanging open. She quickly composed herself surprised more at the fact that she had expected any different when they never had stayed before. The Maldives was their winter home but never their Christmas one.
And so Anna organised the same Christmas she did every year. Alone, as all of the staff were let off to celebrate with their families, Anna turned off every single light in the house and curled herself up in her room. Since there was no real fireplace Anna would put one on her television. She would then grab all of her favourite Christmas themed books, contemporary and classic, ensconce herself, her books and her whiskey in many duvets on the floor and read by the light of the 'fire'.
"Merry Christmas." Anna sighed to herself and lifted her whiskey up, toasting the invisible tea party in her mind. She liked to pretend people were there. All sorts of wonderful people whose only faults are that they were imaginary. It was something she'd started the first Christmas she'd spent alone at 15 and had been something of a tradition ever since. Although tonight something new happened. One of her imaginary guests spoke back,
"Merry Christmas Annabelle Frost." Intoned a deep, husky and overtly unfamiliar voice from the shadows that the light couldn't touch. With a surprised squeal Anna dropped her whiskey and instantly leapt to grab the little panic button that linked to Michael. But her hand closed over nothing although she could swear it had been there only moments before and so she made to stand and run.
"Oh I don't think you'll be going anywhere." The voice called out again from the shadows. There was no mocking edge or smug ring to the man's voice. It was entirely indifferent and that made it all the more frightening. If Anna squinted hard enough in to the darkness she could just make out the faint red flashing light of the panic button. Instantly she started to tremble all over. How on earth did they manage to steal that button from her side? So quietly. So expertly. Finally the man stepped out to where the orangey haze of the television could reach him and gave her a brief, cold smile before twisting to hand the panic button to someone else in the shadows. Anna could only make out two pairs of shoes peeking out of the shadows. She gulped, "oh don't worry about them. We are Tom, Dick and Harry and we're not here to harm you. We're just here to kidnap you and we don't want any undue fussing."
"Any undue fussing?" Anna burst out, completely outraged and confused but she didn't move. She felt as she was glued to the spot. And then Michael's voice suddenly rang through her mind as she remembered something he'd said. If they have their faces covered they mean to ransom you. If they don't they mean to kill you. She started to tremble. The man knelt down and stared at Anna who stared back, completely at a loss of what to do. So she studied her soon-to-be kidnapper. Tall, especially compared to her tiny frame, the man looked positively graceful. Dressed in a grey dress shirt and dark jeans they highlighted his long, long legs and lean body. His face was cast in shadow and so none of his facial features could be fully distinguished. And firelight is always the most forgiving of lights. However a bunch of tight blonde curls atop his head could be seen. In any other circumstance he probably wouldn’t be seen as a threat. However under the current circumstances, in that and he and his merry band of criminals had snuck in to the house, past all security measures and stolen something from by her side, this man was probably the most terrifying and threatening man Anna had ever come across. He extended a long finger towards her face. Anna flinched away. He continued and drew an invisible line from the top of her forehead to her jaw.
"Can I ask you a question?"
"No."
The man sighed as if dealing with a petulant child. "Fine. Then listen." Some annoyance had crept in to his tone. She listened. She couldn't hear anything, just the buzz of the fridge, the crackling of the fire on her television. Anna still kept silent but stared intently in to his darkened, orange eyes, stock silent and shaking, "now listen again." And then there was nothing. The ‘fire’ went out, plunging them in to total darkness. A hand on the back of her head. Her scream muffled by a cloth. A faint thud.
Usually on Christmas Eve the entire family with their spouses and children would dress up in their most expensive gowns, competing with each other to see who would get the approving nod from their mother whilst the men worked hard all year around to get the approving nod from the big boss, the patriarch himself. They’d list all of their accomplishments from that year and see who would win. This twisted competition took part in the massive ballroom of the Maldives house, the only mock-old aspect of the house but it had been built as a requirement for Christmas Eve. It was closed off all year round, seen as something not fitting with their usual thoroughly modern décor and only ever opened at Christmas Eve fully decorated and waiting with staff to cater the party.
When Annabelle was younger and they had celebrated Christmas on some other tropical island the ballroom there was also decorated behind closed doors and Annabelle believed that elves worked secretly behind those doors to create the wonder Annabelle still felt as a child. Her brothers and sisters encouraged this childlike belief, her and the brother a year older than her believed it for a long time. They kept it to themselves, like a dirty little secret. They always thought that their parents would never allow such frivolous beliefs so the oldest sister had discovered the idea of Santa and promised herself that all of the children who came after her would believe in magic when she couldn’t. So she’d sneak into the tree room on Christmas Eve night after the party with some labels and expertly change the labels to read ‘from Santa’. All but one of the Frost children developed and dispersed their belief in Santa Clause and magic by themselves encouraged by the eldest sister.
But since then Annabelle had held a certain fascination with Christmas Eve, much more excited about it than any other holiday despite the fierce competition that dominated the night. Annabelle never put herself in to, around her parents a lot more than the others and so felt no need to try and please them. This meant that she was free to float around the room, talking to the staff and laugh inwardly at the rest of her family clambering for attention. There was only one downside to the Christmas Ball and that was the fact that Michael never attended. The only days off he was allowed a year were Christmas Eve, Christmas Day and Boxing Day and he never chose to attend the Ball. He was around the decadence and competition most of the time and he was hesitant to attend dressed in a tuxedo. The one time he’d done so, the first one of his time with the Frost’s, Eleanor had tried to sleep with him, thinking him an inexperienced and impressionable young man. Whilst he was young and in a bittersweet type of awe of the Frosts’ lifestyle, bitter at the idea that people could live as wastefully as they did when people were living like he had been, Michael was far from inexperienced and knew exactly what Eleanor’s game had been. Ever since then he had avoided the Ball like the plague and, once Annabelle learnt the reason for his avoidance when she was old enough and was wise to the extra-marital affairs, she stopped begging for his reason. She never asked him to attend as she knew he would say yes, just for her. And so she never asked him, allowing him his time off away from her and in the small but beautiful house set aside for all of the bodyguards around Christmas time.
Unfortunately it didn’t make the party a little bit duller but that was only because Annabelle felt a dull ache in her gut and suffered from a heavy chest whenever Michael wasn’t around.
“Your bodyguard is still not attending Anna?” Eleanor’s disappointed tone cut through the wistful memories of Annabelle as she floated towards her youngest daughter in the midst of the ball, dressed in beautiful vintage. Anna had to give it to her mother; she always did look stunning all of the time. It was a prerequisite for being married to Gideon.
“You ask this every year mother.” She gritted her teeth at her mother who only seemed concerned at the lack of eye candy rather than being impressed by her children, “he doesn’t like the Ball. He video calls his family around this time to be with them at Christmas.”
“Ah what a pity. Well!” Eleanor was never disappointed for long, “we’re leaving tonight dear. We’ve been invited to the Alps. How fun. I hope you don’t mind. Just get Michael to come and keep you company hmm dear?” And with that Eleanor floated away to go back to socialising with the family leaving Anna alone in the party with her mouth hanging open. She quickly composed herself surprised more at the fact that she had expected any different when they never had stayed before. The Maldives was their winter home but never their Christmas one.
And so Anna organised the same Christmas she did every year. Alone, as all of the staff were let off to celebrate with their families, Anna turned off every single light in the house and curled herself up in her room. Since there was no real fireplace Anna would put one on her television. She would then grab all of her favourite Christmas themed books, contemporary and classic, ensconce herself, her books and her whiskey in many duvets on the floor and read by the light of the 'fire'.
"Merry Christmas." Anna sighed to herself and lifted her whiskey up, toasting the invisible tea party in her mind. She liked to pretend people were there. All sorts of wonderful people whose only faults are that they were imaginary. It was something she'd started the first Christmas she'd spent alone at 15 and had been something of a tradition ever since. Although tonight something new happened. One of her imaginary guests spoke back,
"Merry Christmas Annabelle Frost." Intoned a deep, husky and overtly unfamiliar voice from the shadows that the light couldn't touch. With a surprised squeal Anna dropped her whiskey and instantly leapt to grab the little panic button that linked to Michael. But her hand closed over nothing although she could swear it had been there only moments before and so she made to stand and run.
"Oh I don't think you'll be going anywhere." The voice called out again from the shadows. There was no mocking edge or smug ring to the man's voice. It was entirely indifferent and that made it all the more frightening. If Anna squinted hard enough in to the darkness she could just make out the faint red flashing light of the panic button. Instantly she started to tremble all over. How on earth did they manage to steal that button from her side? So quietly. So expertly. Finally the man stepped out to where the orangey haze of the television could reach him and gave her a brief, cold smile before twisting to hand the panic button to someone else in the shadows. Anna could only make out two pairs of shoes peeking out of the shadows. She gulped, "oh don't worry about them. We are Tom, Dick and Harry and we're not here to harm you. We're just here to kidnap you and we don't want any undue fussing."
"Any undue fussing?" Anna burst out, completely outraged and confused but she didn't move. She felt as she was glued to the spot. And then Michael's voice suddenly rang through her mind as she remembered something he'd said. If they have their faces covered they mean to ransom you. If they don't they mean to kill you. She started to tremble. The man knelt down and stared at Anna who stared back, completely at a loss of what to do. So she studied her soon-to-be kidnapper. Tall, especially compared to her tiny frame, the man looked positively graceful. Dressed in a grey dress shirt and dark jeans they highlighted his long, long legs and lean body. His face was cast in shadow and so none of his facial features could be fully distinguished. And firelight is always the most forgiving of lights. However a bunch of tight blonde curls atop his head could be seen. In any other circumstance he probably wouldn’t be seen as a threat. However under the current circumstances, in that and he and his merry band of criminals had snuck in to the house, past all security measures and stolen something from by her side, this man was probably the most terrifying and threatening man Anna had ever come across. He extended a long finger towards her face. Anna flinched away. He continued and drew an invisible line from the top of her forehead to her jaw.
"Can I ask you a question?"
"No."
The man sighed as if dealing with a petulant child. "Fine. Then listen." Some annoyance had crept in to his tone. She listened. She couldn't hear anything, just the buzz of the fridge, the crackling of the fire on her television. Anna still kept silent but stared intently in to his darkened, orange eyes, stock silent and shaking, "now listen again." And then there was nothing. The ‘fire’ went out, plunging them in to total darkness. A hand on the back of her head. Her scream muffled by a cloth. A faint thud.