Author's Note: Short drabble/one-shot about Onion/Evil/Early Elsa x White Anna that's sweet to counter "The Breaking of the Shrew", or as you'll see, bittersweet. This presumes that Anna was hurt by her sister, Eira, at an early age, but their relationship is different from that of either the movie or my previous fic.
A Quiet Heartbeat in Time
"Unfortunately, I don't believe…"
"It is not my wish that I would tell you this…"
"But your Majesty, we cannot…"
Every day, the same. One headache after another to be dealt with. One blabbering bureaucrat to meet in the morning so she could be informed that no, they could do nothing, for neither doctors nor wizards knew of any solutions, one to meet at lunch who would spend forty words saying "no", and one to see before she retired, their discussion so exceptionally useless it was not even worth describing. It made her want to throw all her carefully laid plans aside and just tear into their countries with her hard hands like claws ripping into a carcass for the meat inside. But there was none to be found.
The queen braced herself on the armrests and stood. She headed towards the large windows overlooking the courtyard and looked out, or would have if she was interested in looking any place in particular. Usually she just stared into the distance, her eyes relaxing, the tension headache unwinding just a bit as she rested for long, quiet moments.
She caught sight of herself in the pane and was not surprised by what she saw. Thin tracks ran through her scruffy hair and she raised her hand, dragging her fingers through one set of them: they fit perfectly. The worn bags under her eyes were her constant companions through the days, much like the fine lines bracketing her mouth, so out of place on such a young face. But the pale blue eyes that looked back at her were very old indeed.
The sound of soft, almost hesitant footsteps in the corridor had her turning towards the noise just like a compass needle points north. She walked over to the wooden doorframe and laid a hand on it, looking out. Her sister, carrying a small bag, waved at her. The sleeves of her dress, which had been fitted to her last month, were already too large for her forearms.
"What are you doing?" Eira asked, her voice hardly more than a rough whisper, leaning against the doorframe. Anna's smile was broad, if trembling with poorly concealed fatigue, and she licked her cracked lips against the small flecks of blood that arose at the movement. "I'm feeding the ducks in the garden," she answered. "Would you like to join me?" She never needed to ask, but she did so all the same. It made something within Eira's chest twist savagely and strain against her breastbone every time she looked into Anna's patient, hopeful eyes. She had nightmares where those eyes, so vibrant and as green as the first blades of grass in spring, dripped tears of color down her emaciated cheeks until they were as white and lifeless as her hair. Eira nodded, and her sister extended her hand. The queen accepted the offering, or maybe it was the other way around, and they set off, Eira matching Anna's steady, plodding pace.
"What are you planning on feeding them?"
Anna lifted the bag, which could not have contained much, though the weight made her hand shake. "It's just some leftover bread." She protested when Eira wordlessly took the bag from her but stopped when the queen slid her arm around her sister's waist. The material was soft against her skin, but thick enough so that Eira's perpetual chill did not sink through and snuff out the small, fading heat of Anna's body.
The ducks set about making a great chatter when the pair of them entered the gardens, some of them shooting out of the large, sprawling pond and honking as they wagged their tails, heads cocking at the sight of the princess. Anna cooed at them in response, as if they were actually talking, and Eira held back a grin as she considered that this conversation, at least, actually meant something. They sat down on rocks warmed by the summer sun as the ducks plopped back into the water, watching the pair of them expectantly.
"Here." Anna offered her a few slices of bread, and Eira took one, their hands touching briefly. Anna shivered and Eira looked away. She had learned that this was for the best.
Some days the only thing she wanted to do was hold her sister, her Anna, to her chest and let the world fade away as her arms tightened around her until there was nothing separating them at all. Some days she dared not even let her shadow fall upon her, for fear that Anna would crack and break apart under the weight of it.
Eira was running out of time, and had nothing to show for it. Anna didn't see it that way, despite numerous impassioned arguments on her sister's part that she listened to silently, without blinking or objecting, just waiting for Eira to be done so she could run her thumbs over the tear tracks, smearing them away as her calm hands breathed peace into her through their touch. She did not see her life as those last precious grains of sand as they filtered through an hourglass, but rather as a favorite book that had just been given away, the source of many treasured memories to look back fondly on while the reader was off making new memories. And unlike the queen, she did not blame Eira for the accident that set the ice in her blood, the ice that sliced years of her life away like impossibly sharp knives.
She wondered sometimes, when her thoughts turned as dark and cold as her dreams, if it would have been better if Anna had simply died that night. At least she would not have grown up, fully aware of the fact that she would never live to grow old.
She tossed a slice into the pond and snorted as a trio of ducks raced for it, one yanking it out of the water and squirming away as fast as it could.
Beside her, Anna's thin body quaked in a violent fit, and Eira looked down at her hands fallen upon her lap. She much preferred to listen to Anna's laughter rather than see it. The girl took up one of Eira's hands, pressing a new slice into it.
"Here: you need to tear it apart, otherwise they'll choke, see?" She curled Eira's fingers around the bread, and the two of them tore the slice in half. Eira wasn't sure why Anna needed to show her how to break things apart. She was already quite good at that.
"I named that one after you." Anna pointed at one of the birds as it floated in the pond, well away from the rest of the group. It had its head tucked in to its chest and there was a bright white streak splashed across its breast, as if someone had thrown paint on it.
Eira drew her eyes over her sister's profile. Her hair fairly shone in the light, as if she already bore a halo. Her throat tightened at the thought: whenever it came time for her sister to leave, it would always be too soon. "Why is that?" she murmured.
Anna smiled. Her eyes twinkled like the stars they used to watch as children. "Because she doesn't like other ducks."
This time it was Eira who was laughing, shaking her head. Sometimes it felt like a betrayal to laugh with lungs that were healthy and strong.
"But she does like me," Anna said, and placed her now empty hand in Eira's. The queen of all of Arendelle, with her awesome, terrible power over storms and ice and snow, laid her head atop her sister's hair and just breathed, her heart beating with hers, for as long as they both could.