A/N: This is my attempt at a darker Frozen, focusing more on the people of Arendelle and how their lifestyles are affected by the winter. I hope I'm doing the fandom justice!

I do not own Frozen, but I do own characters unfamiliar to canon.


Red. There was red everywhere. Red dribbled down my chin and onto my mitten-covered hands. Spots of red decorated the snow. I can't remember if I've ever seen the color before; especially a hue so...striking. Tears mingled with the red, and I was confused as to whether they existed because of the pain, or because of the red itself. Sweet red in a world full of white.

"Oh...Oh my Queen!" I could hear my sister scream, "I did not mean to...! Mother is going to kill me..." I could hear the snow crackling under her boots as she paced. She huffed in exasperation.

The red pooled in my hands as I remained kneeling on the frosty ground. My breathing was ragged, heavy, painful.

Red soaked into the material of the mittens and I found myself tightening my hands into fists in an attempt to preserve it. I could use it to bring Arendelle back. I could...I could...

The cold is all I know. Vicious. Consuming. Deceptively beautiful winter; it was hard to imagine that Arendelle was once a lively town bursting with color, beauty, and smiles. Tales of the former Arendelle are told to me by the elders who have yet to freeze over in death, as I am too young to have experienced The Sun Years myself. Years that were dampened by Queen Elsa, whose powers to freeze mistakenly froze the town two decades ago.

From what I've heard, Princess Anna—Queen Elsa's sister—had traveled to find the queen after she exiled herself from Arendelle. The princess, upon finding the queen, was struck in the heart by the queen's icy powers and gradually turned to ice. When Queen Elsa saw her sister's inanimate body she lost it, falling into a deep depression; she hid both herself and Princess Anna in her ice tower for as long as anyone could remember. All of the queen's plans to bring Arendelle back to summer for the sake of her sister were forgotten.

"...Come on, let's get you cleaned up, okay?" My sister, Grete, took my arm in her huge iron grip, pulling me to my feet.

The red is gone. All gone. Lost in white.

"You know I didn't mean to hurt you, brother...I would never...I-I'm sorry. It was a stupid idea for me to..."

Glancing upward, I searched my sister's face. Her eyes were unfocused, misted over with guilt. I couldn't understand why she kept apologizing. I was fine—or at least I would be. I was just as strong as she was! Really! But I must've looked terrible, I guess.

Grete and I were wrestling only moments before. It was all in jest, something we did when we were bored or wanted to test our strength. So when Mother had us scrounge the mountains' forest for food again this morning (we often returned empty-handed), wrestling was the best option to bring some enjoyment to a task Grete and I knew would end in sadness. Grete-who had the body of a bear and the strength of a dozen reindeer—always won. And me, being the complete opposite, lost. Every single time. And I definitely lost this match when I took an accidental elbow to the mouth, bringing forth the appearance of red.

I was lead to a river glossed over with a sheet of ice, shivering when a gust of frozen air ripped through layers of my clothes to bite my bones. At the sight of my trembling, Grete unfastened her cloak and was in the process of throwing it over my shoulders when I stepped aside. I despised how she babied me. I could look after myself. At fourteen, I was a man!

Sighing as if to say "your loss," Grete threw the cloak back over her broad shoulders, kneeling before the narrow body of water before us. She reached for the pickax tied to her hip with a strip of fabric, tapping the river's ice with a firm grace I secretly envied. The thin layer of ice broke away to reveal raging dark water underneath. I knelt beside Grete to get a closer view; it was mesmerizing how opaque the waves were, how the strongly the scent of salt greeted me, relaxed me.

My mouth tasted bitter, like copper, so I scooped handfuls of water into my mouth to rinse out with. Something didn't feel right as I gargled the water and spat it out in the snow alongside me. I assumed it was due to swelling.

The harsh sound of something being ripped apart received my immediate attention. I whipped my head in the direction of the noise in the event it belonged to one of the wild animals (now endangered because of the weather) living near us. It was only my sister, who was tearing the end of the fabric that was wrapped around her. I let out a subtle sigh of relief.

Grete then dipped the piece of fabric into the frosty depths of the river, being careful enough not to soak her mittens. She removed it, grasping it in one hand as she turned to me. "Try to stay still."

Before I knew it she was dabbing at my face with the fabric to remove the red. I shrunk back whenever the fabric touched my skin; the water was so frigid that it burned against my newly-acquired sores and cuts. I would've objected to Grete cleaning me on an average day, but her gentleness—reminiscent of Mother—helped to ease the pain.

"All better." Grete held me by the chin as she admired her work of wiping my face clean. She offered up a small smile and I returned it.

"Thanks." I replied, but my swelling lower lip muffled my voice.

Grete's eyes grew as large as an owl's. She stopped breathing, angling my chin closer to her own face. "Wh-What?"

I frowned, wanting to return the question. What exactly was going on?

"Say that again, Anders...I didn't hear you."

"Thanks?"

My sister searched my face for a moment, and her mouth fell open a bit. She let go of my chin, stunned. The look of shock on her face contorted to that of amusement, and she began to giggle. And she never giggles.

"What?" My voice was shrill with panic, "Wh-What's going on? Tell me!" I swung at Grete's arm half-heartedly to stop her laughter, but it was no use. My face burned with embarrassment. Was my swollen lip that hilarious?

Still laughing, Grete took out her pickax again and tapped away a small sheet of ice from the river. This time she caught it before it was swept away by the strong current and placed it in my hands.

I hoped that whatever Grete found funny wasn't as bad as it seemed. Using the ice sheet as a makeshift mirror, I held it up to my face. My reflection materialized: Dark eyes. Brown skin. Dark curls peeking out from under my hat. All looked fine except for the bruising and swelling, of course. "I don't see anything—" I began to say, but paused when I saw it.

Holy Arendelle.

"Geeeeeee..." I whined like a four-year-old, in complete disbelief at what I was seeing. "Gee" was the nickname I gave Grete as a toddler when I was learning how to speak and couldn't pronounce her name. "You chipped my tooooooth!"

Grete stopped laughing immediately. She crossed her arms and gave me a look. She hated it when I called her Gee. Hated it. "Sorry, Andy." She said through her teeth.

"Andy" was my childhood nickname. It was mostly used by mother...who still uses it, actually. She was the only person I could tolerate calling me Andy. No one else.

And if you haven't already guessed it, there was a time when we were known to Arendelle as "Gee and Andy."

Grete and Anders. Gee and Andy. Like a pair of musicians.

Yes, "Gee and Andy" actually happened. Grete was my role model growing up (she still is) and I used to follow her everywhere. We were inseparable (much to Grete's disdain), and people used that collective title to refer to us. "Gee and Andy" sent icy tremors through me that no Arendelle wind could ever match.

"It's ANDERS." I corrected.

"Really? I could've sworn it was 'Chip'!" Another giggle escaped from Grete.

Chip? Because of my chipped tooth? Originality was lacking here. I rolled my eyes. "Very funny." I held up the ice-mirror again, baring my teeth. The front tooth on the left was chipped diagonally at its outer corner; a third of the bone missing. A clean break. And it hurt like a—

"Here." Grete regained composure long enough to hand me the piece of fabric she used to clean my face earlier. This time she had wrapped a snowball inside of it and tied the ends at the top. "For your face."

I took the bundle of snow and held it to my face where the heat of the injuries mingled with the cold of the snow, creating a comfortable numbness. I rose to my feet, and Grete joined me.

"...Sorry for laughing earlier." My sister returned to the serious person I knew her for, "I just wanted to have some fun before Mother kills me."

I gave a curt nod as I was too self-conscious to open my mouth to say anything. A part of me wished I had gotten a black eye instead. At least that was temporary!

"Don't be like that, brother. I said I was sorry!" Grete argued, "Besides, a chipped tooth gives you a whole lot of character. Think about it. Now you're experienced, mysterious...rugged!"

I turned my nose up at Grete, who was trying to play into my insecurities about being manly enough, just to make the chip in my tooth seem worthwhile. I had to hold a snowball to my face! I wasn't falling for it.

"A chipped tooth is a battle scar..." Grete started again.

I snorted. Grete would probably try telling me that all of Arendelle's war heroes sported papercuts!

"Okay...Um...Girls like chipped teeth?" My sister sounded like a desperate ice harvester struggling to sell ice in this weather.

"Ugh!" I was fed up with Grete's suggestions, stopping her before she started Round Three, "No they don't! No one likes chipped teeth! I look like a felon!"

"He lives!" Grete cried out in mock surprise. "And I'd say you make an adorable felon."

"Grrah! I'm not 'adorable'! I'm on the cusp of manhood!"

"'Cusp'? Did you just say 'cusp'?" Grete chuckled.

"That's what Mother says! That boyhood is fleeting and I—"

"Mother did not say 'cusp'! I can't see her saying that!"

"She did say 'cusp'!"

"Stop saying 'cusp'!" Grete waved a dismissive hand, "Jeez!"

"Well...stop trying to make chipped teeth a thing! Chipped teeth are not—and never will be—a good thing!" I began the descent from the mountains, my sister close behind me.

"Says you! One day everyone will be dying to chip their teeth—"

"Ew..." I shook away the horrific image. "Like summer!"

In Arendelle, the younger generation uses the phrase "like summer" for things that will never happen. Because when will we ever get to experience summer? Not in our lifetimes.

Grete chuckled again. "Okay, maybe not! Consider yourself one-of-a-kind!"

"I was 'one-of-a-kind' before you broke my face!"

"I didn't break your face. Just your tooth. And it was an accident!"

"My tooth is a part of my face. Therefore, you broke my face!"

"Fine! I broke your face! Truce?"

"I told you so. And truce."

Grete and I walked the rest of the way to town in complete silence; me still nursing my face with the snowball and she observing the area around us with keen eyes, ever ready for anything.


A/N: Well, that's the first chapter! Thank you for reading! I wanted to establish the relationship between Anders and his sister before anything else. :) I had fun writing their banter. Anders is so sassy...

Please tell me what you think!

Until next time!