Selfishness and Selflessness
The ballroom was devoid of people, with Anna as its lone wanderer. Here, invisible memories imprinted themselves on the walls, the lofty ceiling, the patterned floor and wooden double doors. She remembered that first night of dancing—the first in so many years. She could still see the revelry and hear the crowds and the enthusiastic orchestra. How she had stood side by side with her beautiful sister, their eyes gazing over the crowd of people on Coronation day. How nervous Anna had been, tucking an invisible lock of hair behind her ear. Then that one word, showing Elsa still remembered her: "Hi". They had connected for a precious few seconds, moments that all too soon flew away like butterflies startled by marauding birds. How Elsa was warm for one minute—warm with love. These were all happy memories of the ballroom.
Then the birds landed, catching the butterflies in their sharp beaks. The moment when Elsa closed up again and the warmth of the precious connection evaporated into the night. How she had walked away, sniffling, so Elsa wouldn't see her tears. Hours later, when she had returned giddy with euphoria with Hans, asking for the queen's blessing, only for Elsa to flatly refuse. Elsa telling her to leave—and Anna's patience then unravelling, angry words flying at Elsa as she demanded to know why she shut everyone out.
But then Anna remembered minute details of hurt buried deep in the bitter memory of anger. Even now, she still remembered Elsa pausing, her countenance briefly changed, to something not so queenly. When the façade of a queen completely in control briefly cast aside its cloak to reveal someone underneath, someone so much more…
Fragile. Anna decided now, staring down at her shadow imprinted on the barred window light thrown on the floor.
In her head, Anna watched as Elsa wrung her hands, her eyes never quite meeting Anna's. Had Elsa's voice quavered then, or was that only in her memory? Anna could have said "yes", could have talked with her alone, with Elsa—the one who had been hiding behind controlled emotions for thirteen years—who, so briefly, had reached to Anna. To the Anna she had loved all her life, the Anna who had knocked on her door for thirteen years, the Anna who wanted to build a snowman. Not the Anna who had found and clung on to someone who showed her love and a willingness to listen, the one who said "no" to both Elsas—the queen and the sister. The one time she finally metaphorically opened her door to Anna, wanting to let her in, Anna slammed her own, having found someone who wanted to enter. Hans, who would talk and laugh with her when Elsa wouldn't. Hans, who showed Anna love when Elsa either couldn't or wouldn't.
Now Anna replayed the moment when Elsa had asked that quiet question, directed only at her.
"May I talk to you? Alone?"
Then, Anna had thought Elsa wanted to lecture her on not marrying a man "she just met", but now she wasn't as sure, her eyes widening as she stared at the double doors.
If it had been about the wedding, she reflected, why had Elsa been so quiet and…worried?
Still studying the doors opening out into the great hallway beyond, Anna imagined a semi-circle of icicles, sharp and jutting, separating Elsa from everyone else in the room. How Elsa had held her hand over her heart, wide, terrified eyes staring at the stunned assemblage. How she fumbled for the door handle, before pushing it open and sprinting down the yawning pink hallway, away from her people, her sister, and her magic.
And all alone in that same ballroom, on this golden, partially overcast evening, Anna gasped, clasping both hands to her mouth, heart skipping a beat. Her gaze roamed up the window seated high up in the wall before her, staring past the stained glass image of the crocus, the national flower of Arendelle.
It hadn't been about the wedding, had it?
Anna dropped her hands back to her heart, guilt now consuming her. She had been so selfish, thinking only of herself. Only now, she saw again her sister's expression, her words quiet, pleading, eyes shifting with worry as she asked to talk to her sister, confide in Anna alone. Anna had refused, and seconds later, shards of ice jutted from the ballroom floor, separating a terrified queen from her subjects.
I never said sorry then.
Not wasting another second, Anna walked apace out of the double doors, leaving the ballroom truly empty except for the shadows shifting over wood panelling as the yellowing sun began its descent deep into the fjord surrounding Arendelle.
Hurried enquiries to passing servants on Elsa's whereabouts led Anna to the palace gardens where she was told she would find her sister. As the servants had said, there she was sitting under the tree with its curious corkscrew trunk and the small bench in its shade. This tree had always been Anna's favourite, where her favourite goose would huddle with its chicks under the shade, out of the bright sun. Today, one young woman occupied the bench, and Anna wondered if this tree was also Elsa's favourite too.
I should have listened, let her talk to me away from Hans.
Her hurt expression when Anna accused her of not knowing anything about true love, only knowing how to shut others out, swam unwanted before her imagination.
She knew what true love was. More than I had, considering what Hans did to me.
"Elsa!" Anna called out, waving at her sister with one hand, while she hitched up her skirts slightly with the other, so she would not trip when running. "Elsa! There you are!"
Elsa looked in Anna's direction with a broad smile that faded a little on seeing Anna's expression as she hurried to the elder. No sooner did Anna draw near the bench, then she threw her arms around Elsa's shoulders.
"I'm sorry, Elsa," she babbled, "I'm sorry I didn't realise! At the coronation—when you asked—"
Elsa gently pulled Anna's arms from around her shoulders, so the younger had to look her in the eyes.
"Calm down, Anna, you're babbling."
"Oh right, yeah, sorry about that." Anna plopped down on the bench beside Elsa, looking more uncomfortable than before.
"Is something wrong?"
Anna stared down at her hands, clenching and unclenching the fabric of her skirts with her fingers. Her eyes were downcast, and a small pout pulled at her lips.
"I was in the ballroom before," she began, "and remembered the coronation party."
Visions of jutting icicles, recoiling onlookers, and her sister so close—too close—to the magic that had burst from her anger, swam before Elsa's mind's eye. Compared to the shock of the exposure of her magic, the brief spark of reconnection with her dear little sister before everything fell apart seemed a distant memory.
"What about the coronation party?" Elsa queried.
Anna bit her lip, eyes darting around the garden, not answering Elsa's question. Just as Elsa was about to repeat her query, Anna spoke.
"You were going to tell me weren't you?" Anna asked, "When you wanted to talk to me alone, it wasn't about Hans, was it? Well, maybe, but…it wasn't was it? After what happened next…"
Elsa realised what Anna was talking about, and the memory, still so clear, returned to her in a heartbeat. She knew she couldn't have thirteen men staying in the palace, and not just because of the lack of servant numbers to clean up after them. Elsa knew that the stress of so many people living in the palace would inevitably expose her powers when she least wanted it to—a fit of anger, an upset, anxiety bubbling from within her chest, exploding in frost and ice.
"Elsa?"
Dragged from her thoughts by Anna's probing voice, Elsa gazed over at her sister, shifting her position so she faced her. She still remembered the pain of Anna's refusal to listen to her, and worse, accusing her of only knowing how to shut people out.
"Oh no, I've upset you haven't I?" Anna cried, eyes full of concern as she took both of Elsa's hands in her own. "I shouldn't have said anything about it."
Elsa squeezed Anna's hands, holding them tight. "No, no, you haven't upset me." And she tried to give her sister the most genuine smile she could muster. It didn't seem to cheer Anna either way.
"I should've seen it," Anna reflected, guilt in every word, "I should have seen that you needed to talk to me alone. And I said no." Two guilt-laden blue eyes gazed into hers. "It wasn't about Hans, after all."
Elsa stalled for a few moments, trying to piece together her thoughts. If she were honest with herself, it did have a little to do with Hans, but only to caution her little sister on marrying a man so soon.
"Anna," Elsa began, knowing her sister wanted only the truth from her, "I do remember everything about coronation day—it's hard to forget, considering all that happened on the night of my coronation. But yes you are right, I had wanted to confess to you about my…powers."
The same powers that had separated us for thirteen years.
"Although, yes, I had wanted to discuss Prince Hans with you, I did want to say why I had to keep myself away from you to protect you all those years."
"It was my fault," Anna declared in a small voice, "It was because of me you lost control of your powers."
Elsa tightened her hands on Anna's, as though she might send her more comfort and love with just her strength alone.
"Anna, you don't have to—"
"Yes!" Anna interrupted, sounding more upset by the second, "It was because of me! I didn't see that you wanted to talk to me! All I could think of was myself—too selfish to consider that you needed me more at that moment! But no, I only thought of Hans, and not you. What kind of person does that make me? I should've been there for you, but I was too selfish to consider anyone but myself."
"Anna, that makes you human."
"But I'm a princess!"
"Princesses and queens are not necessarily absolved of being human beings, just like anyone else," Elsa insisted, freeing one hand to wrap her arm around Anna's shoulders, the latter leaning her head on the queen's shoulder. "I'm a queen, but that doesn't mean I am—or should be—perfect. Remember, I ran away to the North Mountain, thinking it would make everything better, that I could just forget my problems and let it go. But it didn't work did it?"
"You did create a beautiful ice palace though." Anna said, "Kristoff nearly cried from its beauty."
"Beautiful as it may have been," Elsa considered, "It still did not change the fact that Arendelle had been frozen. And I will tell you right now that the very first thing you said to me in my ice palace was an apology, showing just how unselfish a person you are. And what you did for me when…" Elsa took a deep breath, the image of Anna as an ice sculpture still too raw in her heart, "…when you sacrificed yourself for me…that's the most selfless act anyone can make. That's not selfish, Anna—that's true love."
Anna raised her head up from Elsa's shoulder, turning her face to look at her, listening to Elsa's words.
"Would it have changed anything had I talked to you alone at the coronation ball?"
"Plenty," Elsa said simply, "It may have taken me longer to know love will thaw, you may never have met Kristoff, we wouldn't have Olaf, and you might still be courting Hans."
Anna wrinkled her nose in distaste. "No chance of that happening, Elsa. If you don't mind, I would sooner court Kristoff."
A gently knowing smile tugged at one corner of Elsa's mouth. "I believe you already are. But that still doesn't mean you can marry a man you just met, even if it is Kristoff. He would agree with me, Anna, that you are the most selfless person we know. You may be a princess, and I may be a queen, but we are still human."
At last, Anna managed a smile.
"And," Elsa continued, voice low, "know what I think? What happened in the ballroom that day, I'm surprised it hadn't happened sooner."
"You mean your ice powers being exposed?"
"That and the way you finally ran out of patience, demanding to know why I kept shutting you out. I have never seen someone with as much patience as you have had for thirteen years."
"I guess I just kept on hoping," Anna said, "I wanted to see you again, and wanted to be close like we were before. But I know it was all to protect me." A pause. "Elsa?"
"Yes, Anna?"
Anna smiled warmly at her sister, her previous upsets now calmer than they had been before. "What you gave up just to try to keep me safe…that was a lot of selflessness, Elsa. You are the most selfless person I know, and I love you all the more for it."
Unable to hold back, Elsa pulled her sister into a warm embrace, feeling Anna's own arms wrap around her, leaning her head on her shoulder.
"I love you too, Elsa."
The queen and the princess stayed in their hug for a while before they gently concluded the embrace. Elsa shifted on the bench again, reaching to a small plate of chocolates. She grinned as she saw Anna's eyes light up with delight.
"I think we both could use a chocolate or two, what do you think?" Elsa suggested, knowing what Anna's answer would be.
Concentrating intensely, Anna scrutinised the chocolates as though to find her favourite one. Elsa had to hold back a little giggle of amusement as Anna's face shaped itself into a state of thoughtfulness. At last, she made her decision, picking one of the chocolates from the top of the small collection. When Elsa selected her own chocolate, Anna grinned.
"To perfectly imperfect princesses and queens," Anna declared, raising her chocolate in the air as though toasting someone.
Elsa gamely bumped her chocolate against Anna's, joining in the "toast", only with chocolates and not wine glasses.
"To perfectly imperfect princesses, queens, and sisters."
"I'll second that." Anna agreed, before tossing her whole chocolate into her mouth.
Gladdened to see Anna so cheered up again, Elsa settled back on the bench, nibbling daintly at her own little treat. Their appetites for dinner were probably a little ruined, but even a queen had to indulge herself every now and again.
And if indulging in desserts before dinner was what it took to support and be there for her precious little sister, then so be it. She was the queen of Arendelle, and no one was going to stop her indulging in a little treat with her sister before heading to dinner.
The perfect queen is one who knows she is imperfect, Elsa reflected, and yet will do the best she can for the interests of her beloved people and family.