DISCLAIMER: I don't own Frozen. It belongs to Disney and Disney alone! Except for my OCs, I own them.
**The fanfic cover "Love is what saves the frozen world" belongs to Eminaytor from Deviantart. Here's the link: art/Love-is-what-saves-the-frozen-world-388597309
THANK YOU FOR CLICKING TO VIEW THIS FANFIC :D
Hello, everyone! This is my first fanfic ever, so, please, be kind. I'm not a professional writer :) But before you read my fanfic I would like to discuss something about it.
**THERE WILL BE NO HANS: I'm sorry, but I don't regret my decision!
Plot [No spoiler! I promise! ;)]:
The first few chapters are kind of like a novelization of the Act I of the film (before Elsa ran away), but I will approach it differently. It's gonna be DARKER and more MATURE and the same will be applied to the rest of the story. I want to explore these characters in terms of flawed human who were heartbroken, and they will be on their journey to healing, growing and discovering themselves. So, please, keep in mind that these characters don't have only black or white personality. But don't worry! There won't be any graphic sexual content, and if I wanna be a sick gore psycho, I'll let you know the warning. As for the Act II of the story (Anna's adventures with Kristoff), there will be a major enlargement in their journey for their deep relationship to develop. The plot during this will be changed for about 90%. The names of the set outside of Arendelle are based upon the realcities and towns in Norway (P.S. I wish I was a Norwegian, though. Love their culture!) + More elements from the original Hans Christian Andersen's "The Snow Queen" & Norse/Scandinavian mythology
**I've NEVER read any additional Frozen junior novelization or The Frozen Heart book because I don't want my plot to get mixed up with them. All detail about my Arendelle universe is either based upon the research in Frozen Wiki, Frozen movie script, The Art of Frozen book, Finding Arendelle Tumblr, Norway tourist websites or my own imagination.
I really enjoy writing this, and I'm so sorry for such a long message. In the next chapter it won't be this long. Plus, I welcome reviews and any suggestion that will help me improving my writing skills since I'm not a native English speaker. HOPE YOU ENJOY IT!
Norwegian vocabulary:
1) Smørbrød = Open sandwich with toppings
2) Rugbrød = A very commonly used bread in Denmark, and a main ingredient of smørbrød
3) Krumkake = A Norwegian waffle cookie made of flour, butter, eggs, sugar, and cream. While hot, the 13–20 cm krumkake are rolled into small cones around a wooden or plastic cone form. It can be eaten plain or filled with whipped cream (often multekrem) or other fillings.
4) Arnbjørg (female) = Old Norse name derived from the elements arn meaning "eagle" and bjørg meaning "help, save, rescue".
5) Hallo = Hello
*WARNING: A bit of gore in the middle of this chapter*
"I simply can't build my hopes on a foundation of confusion, misery and death... I think... peace and tranquility will return again."
- Anne Frank -
Prologue: A Lady Who Is Isolated
It seems that staring into the sky is part of my sacred ceremony now. I spend hours of my time drinking in the view of Arendelle with my book resting on my lap from the windowsill of my bedroom every morning after breakfast, and every evening after supper despite Gerda and Kai's protest. In the afternoon, if I'm not studying with the royal tutor, then I'll either lie by the fjord in my striped swimming suit - which is what I'm currently doing - or lie on my stallion's back, Kjekk, and fix my eyes up to the blue sky. And during gloomy and raining days, I would roam around my father's art gallery, talking to the paintings as if they're my best friends. My father is…was an art patron. Even though he couldn't paint well, he still found himself enjoying the fine art. He even won an auction for The Happy Accident of the Swing by his favorite French painter, Jean-Honoré Fragonard.
By this far, I might come close to the definition of a loner, but actually I do love to meet people, too. Recently, after my parents passed away, Gerda, my housekeeper, decided to ignore the regulation for once, and introduced me to several young maids around my age from the laundry. In case of confusion - in my words - the regulation stated that none of the servant shall make themselves too comfortable around the royalties, or better yet, make themselves invisible. Now back to my maids; I quickly made friends with them, and invite them to either back yard garden, or my drawing room to have afternoon tea every Wednesday and Saturday, and of course, with Gerda's consent. On those days I would be down in the royal kitchen, preparing krumkake and hot chocolate with my maiden friends. There are six of us to be exact, and we are a very good team work. I'm pretty talented in handling the desserts, but I'm hopeless when it comes to food no matter how much they tried to teach me.
"Don't give up, your highness. The skill will eventually be absorbed into your skin," Eira Leite patted my shoulder one day when I overcooked what was supposed to be a scramble egg. She's the oldest and the wisest of all my maiden friends. At the age of eighteen, she's tall, graceful and kind. She has a slim build, pale green eyes, and platinum blonde hair tied into a low bun. I'm not surprise that she has a lover. Her gentle heart was able to catch Arendelle's finest captain of the guard's heart, Sir Halstein Fossen. He's twenty five, and he's quite a charm with light brown hair and high cheekbones, despite his stern unmoving face. But I did catch a glimpse of a faint smile at the corners of his lips whenever Eira walked past him in the corridor from time to time.
We shriek in excitement every time she walks towards us with a rose and a love letter, but she always gently declined our request to read it. Boy is our favorite topic during our tea time, except for Eira and Renate Rinde, who is seventeen. Mathiasen Mikaela and Mari Prestegard, who are the same age as me (fourteen), tend to go into the naughty stuff, making Eira rolling her eyes, and Renate shaking her head. Sometimes I joined in the topic just for fun, but I never went too far even though I'm an outrageous girl, I'm sure that I'm not a pervert like those two. Jordahl Synnove is the youngest with the age of thirteen. She often gets embarrassed every time they start this topic.
"Ma'am, please, tell them that we shouldn't be talking about this," Synnove said in shaky voice, and held up her cup of tea in front of her face in order to hide her blush. I burst into laughter, and asked Mikaela and Mari to lay off the topic. "Alright, gals, can you please keep this to yourself for now? We have heard enough of it." They giggled in unison. Eira put down her cup, and sighed in relief.
"Ugh, do you know no shame?" Renate moaned and brushed her dirty blonde bang off her eyebrow before taking a small bite out of sweet krumkake. "No wonder why none of the lads take a notice of you two!"
"Ouch," I whispered, and made a pain face.
"No! My heart!" Mari mockingly pretended to sob, and Mikaela dramatically put the back of hand against her forehead, batting her eyes. Not once they fail to amuse us. Mikaela and Mari are best friends since they were six years old. They live next to one another near the church ground, and their parents are very fond of each other. They used to sing choir in the church, and they taught us some beautiful psalms. When the tax was announced to be raised at the beginning of this year, they decided to earn more for their families by signing up for the castle's laundromat.
Other than boys, we talk just about anything. Our dreams, problems, new recipes, latest fashion, music, and novels. Speaking of the novels, Renate is the real bookworm of our group. She self-taught herself to read and write, and used to sneak into an all-girl elementary school because her family cannot afford her an education that she want. I let her borrow some of my books from my personal library, and the recent one is the English version of Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. When I asked her how she managed to find time to read, she replied that she read during meals and before going to bed. She and I are the only two who know English. Synnove is still working on her English with Renate's guidance though. Lately, Renate often complain about her blurry vision, so I ordered a pair glasses for her. It should arrive anytime soon.
My friends are so precious to me. They are helping me putting my broken pieces of my reality back together. At the instance I knew my parents were dead two months ago, everything beneath my skin shamelessly spilled out and splashed across the wooden floor. Everything was emptied out of me. My heart was lying still atop of a pile of white bones soaked in sticky dark blood and tangled with my pink gut. I stood at the door of my room as an empty shell, stunned to the other world. My brain was blank and my nerves were numb as a dead fish. It took awhile before my sensation came back, and hit me with sheer intensity. I burst into tears for hours until my throat was sore, my fingers were numb, and my body was controllably shaking. My parents were the church for me where I put my faith in. And all of sudden I was torn away from them by a strong gush of wind and rain, flying away like a flag torn from its pole. Of all ship on the same day, it had to be them. Sometimes, people left you for no reason, do they? I had so many things I hadn't told them, and so many questions to be answer. That was the first time I knew the full taste of desperation and despair. My small chance of freedom was drowned along with the rest of the ship with its ripped sails in a stormy night because of a single wedding invitation.
While I was wailing senselessly, the world began to crack just like mirror. The crack gradually zigzagged its way through the polished surface, extended its branches, and widened the space between pieces. Eventually - CRACK! - the reality sickly breaks into bits. Everything was a lie. My isolated life, my parents' death, my sister's shutting away, they were all LIES. To make it worse, the physician seemed to do nothing fruitful, but generalized my grief. It's alright, my lady. Everybody goes through the same phase as you are, he said. But before he could continue, I couldn't take it anymore, and shouted in his face. You have no idea what I've been through! No idea at all! With that I stormed out of the main drawing room, fuming as a fearsome bear ready to snap anyone's neck in my sight. Once I cooled down, I went back only to find out that the counselor had already left. I asked Kai to find out about the physician's address. After that I wrote an apologizing letter to him saying that I should have let him finish what he had to say, and I was truly regret for what I had done. Although I asked Gerda and Kai to never hire a physician ever again. I didn't want a stranger who pretends to completely understand my situation. It was pretentious and alienated me.
There's someone in the northern wing, a voice whispered to me. She might help you.
No! I refused. She doesn't exist.
However, deep down in my heart, she's still there. I've been trying to deny her, but the cold hard fact never lies: she's my sister, my flesh and blood, my Elsa. Sometimes I wish that Eira was her replacement. With her cold and distant attitude towards me, I can't break through her layers of ice. I might as well come out and say it. I despised her. My hatred didn't come from the grudge, but rather from the longing. I yearned for the clarification of why I was shut away from her and from the rest of the world. I yearned for her to face me, to heal with me, or at least give me a sign of warmth in her heart if she had any left. I needed it so much that I wanted to shred the memories of her into million pieces so that the torment would go away, and just for a moment I would feel truly free. But all I could do was pushing them away like drawers, and closing them behind like doors. She's part of why I treat young Synnove generously, and shower her with warmth from my heart. I promised myself that if I ever have a younger sister or only more siblings at all, I'll never leave them out in a cold. I know what I feels like because I've stood in the cold, too, banging on the door like maniac for the person on the other side to let me in.
Enough with the heavy subject! It's pointless to think about her now. I'm immersing myself into the scenery of the calm fjord and the lush green North Mountain Range, so there's no need to ruin the moment. I'm a bird looking forward to fly somewhere else soon. This is summer after all. I might as well indulge myself in the warm and sunny weather as much as possible.
"Two smørbrøds with smoked salmon and drilled mayonnaise, and a glass of lemonade as you ordered, your highness," the servant announces, and put the tray down on the side table. I thank her, dip the straw into the lemonade and quickly dry the glass before the straw turns into mush. I close my eyes and let the freshness wash down from my throat to my stomach. Lemonade certainly helps me to clear my head. Today is Sunday, June 12, 1836, I told myself. My name is Anna, daughter of Agnarr and Iduna, and I can be as joyous as other girls in the rest of world.
The lemon scent baths my nose and tongue. Refreshment is certainly a great way sew myself back to the reality. The warm summer breeze blows past my body to the southwest. The calm water rolls itself into small waves along with the wind. Three sailing ships with Arendelle flags sail past Fortress of Arnbjørg, heading for the pier. If I'm not mistaken, the ships just return from their journey to Weselton, our closest partner in trade. We've been forbidding the entrance of the foreign ship for thirteen years now. Well, more work for us to sail out.
"Hi! Welcome back!" I shout from the top of my lungs, and move both of my arms into flag semaphore, signaling two alphabets, 'H' and 'I' for 'Hi'. There are two men on the last ship notice me and guffaw. One of them decides to respond by swiftly waving his flags into the word 'Hallo'. I laugh and cheerfully wave back. Whew! I'm getting the hang of this! I haven't received any error signal for seven times in a roll. My hard work has finally paid off. I've passion for anything that will get me out of here, or at least anything that can aid me to communicate to the outside world. I keep my eyes fixed on the ships as they dock at the pier, and take a huge bite out of the smørbrød. The sweet and sour flavor bursts in my mouth and soft texture of smoked salmon mixed with grainy rugbrød strokes my tongue and cheeks. Mm, this is the best recipe of smørbrød I've ever had. This afternoon isn't so bad after all. It's good to be back to the reality.
Up until now, I've been much quieter. More pessimistic even, I confess. But at least, my condition has been improving since last spring. See? I'm healing. Even though I'm not in my best form, I can say one thing for sure: I'm well enough to dare to dream that I'll fight my way out to be free.
++End of Prologue++
**Counseling in present days is very HELPFUL if you're willing to cooperate with the therapist! There are many kinds of therapy to be chosen such as cognitive behavioral therapy, existential therapy, Adlerian therapy, etc. In Anna's time (mid-19th century), there was no proper psychotherapy that based on solid theory and technique until early 20th century when Sigmund Freud, father of psychotherapy, established the term "psychoanalysis". I've tried six sessions of group counseling before and it really helped me.**
Thank you for finishing it! :) Please, review! I would love to read them. There's so little action in this chapter, but this is just an introduction to Anna. I promise that there will be more actions in upcoming chapters, so I'll update as soon as possible within next two weeks. Hoping to see you again next chapter! Bye :D - fidelia67190
Inspired by:
- Claude Debussy - Suite Bergamasque - Clair de Lune (Cover) by Stanley Black & London Symphony Orchestra
- Caribou/Joni Mitchell - Yellow Taxi Back Home (Cover) by Daniela Andrade
- Godzilla - Feel Good Inc. (Cover) by Daniela Andrade
- Frédéric Chopin - Prelude Op.28, No. 15 [Raindrop]
- J. Ralph & Antony - Manta Ray