My first Frozen fanfiction, and I'm already tackling tragedy.
I'm sorry if this makes you sad. It was inspired by another fic from another fandom.
This is very sad and it was written hurriedly at 3 in the morning, so you'll forgive me for any errors, right?
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Frozen, it belongs to Disney like everything great does.
I hope you'll like my story, even if it's sad.
And, oh, this story has slight Kristanna and not, I say not Elsanna. I don't like the pairing not because it's a female/female but because I can't stand incest. But I guess you could see Elsanna here if you want.
WARNING: If you don't like stories with major character deaths or tragedy, stay away from this one.
I'll stop talking now.
Enjoy! Lots of love,
-MildeAmasoj
It was cold.
Everything was cold, so cold it almost hurt, but Anna didn't mind it in the slightest.
Kristoff had begged her and her children had cried, but she just couldn't bear to get close to the fire, or to any source of warmth.
Not even a blanket. Not even a hug.
The cold didn't bother her. It made her feel like Elsa was there with her, snowflakes swirling around her and making her look like an angel.
The warmth, on the other hand, gave Anna the chills. It felt uncomfortable, like wearing heavy clothes in summer, and it made her feel all clammy and unsure and unsafe.
The empty chambers that were once so full of life were silent, and so was the fireplace where flames once used to dance merrily.
It felt like centuries had passed since then.
The walls still carried the echoes of their laughter and the shadows of their smiles still hung from the ceiling.
If Anna concentrated just enough, she could still feel the smell of chocolate, and the sweetness of tasting it while her sister looked at her and chuckled at her antics. If she concentrated just enough, she could almost hear Elsa's soothing voice or feel Elsa's cool hands brushing her hair and braiding it.
Moments lost in the tidal wave of time came back to her, haunting her mind with lost laughs and lost smiles and lost warmth.
There had been only one person, one in the whole world, that could lit up the fire that was in Anna. Because despite what everyone though, Elsa was far from cold. She had always been warm, and so had been her smiles, her laugh, her hugs.
She could make Anna feel happy, that happiness that came from spending time with your family, and that not even Kristoff and their two wonderful children could make her feel.
The violent memory of an assassin's dagger hit Anna hard, and it made long-buried – but not forgotten – feelings resurface. Despair, fear, foolish hope.
She had prayed to every deity she knew of, that fateful day two months before. But the blood wouldn't stop its endless flowing, and the snow wouldn't stop it's endless falling.
It was almost ironic, that Elsa would breathe her last in a day when snow dominated the scenery. It was almost as if winter was mourning its queen, just like Arendelle was.
Anna still remembered – the skin had been cold but the blood had been warm, and as the warmth left Elsa's body, it also left Anna's soul.
And now she didn't want it back. She didn't want to feel warm again without a real source of heat – she didn't want her frozen heart to thaw, she didn't want to feel the pain of losing a sister she had barely even known but whom she had loved more than words could describe. She didn't want to feel.
She didn't want to get close to the fire because she wouldn't feel the cold enough, and if she didn't feel cold then she would feel too warm, and it would be that uncomfortable, false warmth that was so different from the beautiful warmth she had once felt.
She wanted to feel cold, because feeling warm would feel too much like betraying Elsa and forgetting Elsa's gentle hugs and tender kisses on her forehead, the sisterly affection that was always there even when there was a shut door between them.
Anna wanted to feel cold, and so she huddled closer to the ice cold window and buried her face in her hands.
The room was cold and she liked it that way, wanted it that way, even though her husband and son and daughter couldn't bear to get in because they felt too cold. She didn't care. She wanted to stay in there, she need to stay in there. She couldn't bring herself to leave.
That cold room was the same it had once been, and yet it was so different.
Anna remembered the same room, centuries ago that were really only a couple of months, when the fire danced merrily in the fireplace and warmth filled the room. When there were laughs, smiles, when she talked of her feelings and ate chocolate. She remembered the giddy feeling of throwing snowballs and hitting someone's face and the sound of her feet hitting the floor as she ran around, braids flying behind her as laughter followed each step she took. Skating on ice and falling down and laughing as the cold of the snow made her cheeks turn red but she could still feel warm inside. Memories of bright blue eyes shining, the call of her name on her sister's lips, the constant joy she felt.
She remembered being happy and always being warm, even out in a blizzard, and those memories kept her inner fire alive.
Anna wanted to feel cold, but the silent burn inside her would never stop.
She didn't want any flames to be lit in the fireplace, she didn't want any fire to burn as warm as than the fire in her heart because she didn't want to feel anything but that silent burn.
And besides, the cold never really bothered her anyway.