Prologue

Unto the kingdom of Arendelle, a second daughter was born.

Elsa, heir apparent to the throne, hovered in the doorway. True blue eyes gazed solemnly into the room, a heavy expression for such a precocious three-years-old. Her parents awaited her with their hands clasped. Her father's free hand drifted by his side while her mother's free hand caressed the recently constructed crib. Within that crib a baby's restless wail rattled ornate railings. The unhappy noise made Elsa flinch.

"Your sister has a healthy set of lungs," the King rumbled with an amused smile. "You should come say hello."

Elsa glanced to him, pale eyebrows lowering over her eyes. "My sis-ter?" she echoed without moving from the doorway.

The Queen nodded, adding her own gentle smile to her husband's. "A princess, just like you," she said reassuringly.

"Just like me," their now-elder daughter echoed. Emboldened by this similarity, she crept towards the crib. Steps had been laid beside it, and she now climbed these with determined caution. She peered between the railings at the source of the coarse crying. A face made of wrinkles and gaping mouth greeted her. Elsa scrunched her face in unconscious imitation. Without removing her gaze from the strange being, she declared, "It loud."

Both of her parents chuckled. Her mother leaned forward to lay a gentle hand upon Elsa's shoulder. "She's tired, but not ready to sleep yet. She'll learn better manners as she grows up. You can help her, you know."

Elsa twisted to stare up at her mother. "I help?"

She tilted her head forward with the regal control of a Queen, but the smile she bestowed on Elsa contained all the loving warmth of a mother. "Yes, my dear. You can teach her how to be a princess."

Blue eyes blinked, a sparkle of mischief glittering across Elsa's normally serious expression. "Like me!" she chirped, studying her parents' expressions for confirmation.

"Like you," her mother the Queen affirmed. Queen and King exchanged a gentle, bemused smile before returning their attention to Elsa. The Queen straightened and added in a loving, firm tone, "Her name is Anna."

"An-na," Elsa dutifully repeated. She turned her full attention to the wailing bundle. "Prin-cess, like me!" Suddenly her eyes widened. She glanced over her shoulder at her parents, then to the crying baby. Blue eyes flickered to her own fingers, igniting crystalline glitter about their tips. With a flick of those fingers, the glitter was sent dancing about the baby's head.

Behind Elsa, the royal couple's happy expressions twisted into worried frowns. Father and mother glanced at each other, clasped hands briefly tightening. It wasn't the first time they had witnessed their daughter's icy powers. They knew it wouldn't be the last time. Each parent took a deep breath as they silently reminded each other that if they panicked, Elsa would panic as well. As father and mother, they held those breaths and their bodies so very still. As King and Queen, they contemplated their elder daughter's future as heir apparent.

Unaware of their concerns, Elsa watched her new sister's reaction to the sparkling cloud. A fascinated gurgle choked the abrasive cries. Blue-green eyes emerged from the wrinkled visage to peer at the scattered glitter. Tiny arms and hands wrestled free of blankets so they could wave in vague pursuit. Red hair sprang free, framing the chubby face. A happy chirrup chased a bubble of spit. The bubble was popped by a contagious laugh.

Smiling now, Elsa leaned closer. The smile turned sly, warming her pale face. "Sis-ter," she whispered, "prin-cess like me." She glanced at her parents, then returned her gaze to the baby. Even more softly, Elsa whispered, "Tell you sec-ret. Lots will tell you what do. Lots tell you what not do. Lots say, no fun being prin-cess." A fresh cloud of softly chiming ice crystals was sent spiraling over the baby's head. Elsa's sly smile became a grin as Anna answered with a gurgling laugh. "You and me?" she confided, "We know bet-ter."

Elsa eagerly watched over Anna the next few years. She pestered her mother with questions about her younger sister's development, impatient for a more mobile companion. While Anna remained in her crib, Elsa would often sneak into the nursery. The royal Nanny or even the King and Queen would find her entertaining her sister with spiraling crystals or an off-tune lullaby. As soon as Anna discovered the use of her feet, she returned the favor by leading Elsa on giggling explorations of the castle they called home. Much of the kingdom came to view Ana's birth as a blessing for the normally solemn Elsa.

This wasn't to say they were purely angels. The castle staff quickly learned the frustrating combination of loving hearts and challenging inquisitiveness that possessed the sisters. Anna especially contained an impressive capacity for well-intended mischief. One day a determination to obtain a particularly fine fruit for her mother led to an impressive climb up and equally impressive tumble from one of the royal orchard trees. She was saved by Elsa's snow, but both sisters were too young to understand how such an adventure could worry the royal staff so. Another time Anna sought to match her father's battle prowess, so Elsa took her to the royal armory. One mock battle later set all the armor displays toppling. While they did not escape that one unscathed, they still had enough mettle to peer around anxious nurses and stick tongues out at each other while bandages were applied to various cuts and scrapes.

Anna's reckless innocence seemed to encourage a touch of rebellion within the normally studious Elsa, as well. Where the royal Nanny had previously complained of the heir-apparent's too-solemn bearing, now she complained of unpredictable mischievousness. If Anna was upset, or if a well-deserved scolding had to be administered, the Nanny often found herself the recipient of an icy blast to her posterior. It took a solid scolding from both King and Queen to impress Elsa with the importance of accepting due punishment, as well as finding other ways to cheer Anna up.

Other staff suffered as well. Normally Elsa was as patient as one could expect a child to be, but Anna's restlessness was contagious. The royal Tutor learned to keep lessons lively to prevent the freezing of his favorite tea. It also kept frost from creating various princess-giggle-inducing patterns upon his person. Royal seamstresses grumbled about cloth stiff with cold and frozen needles that stuck to their fingers whenever fittings lasted longer than the princesses' patience. The complaints were half-hearted, however, as the two sisters were as quick with loving hugs as they were playful pranks.

All that changed the night the sky danced in colors and Anna, then five years old, teased Elsa, then eight years old, into making a snowman. Before the dawn broke and the colors sought rest from their revelries, one sister would lose all memory of magic while the other would lose her innocence. Both would lose each other for the next thirteen years, though they remained in the same castle.

Ah, but we know this part of the story, do we not? So let's race ahead to the present. A year and a half has passed since the events of Elsa's coronation. A year and a half in which Queen and country are still learning to stand with one another, a Princess stands nowhere in particular, and two sisters are growing into individuals even as they try to grow together again.

Author's Note: This prologue is based off the outtake song "We Know Better" from the Frozen Deluxe soundtrack. Basically just a way to crack the writing knuckles before starting the main story... so I take a deep breath and yelp, "Here we go!"