Scars of the Past

Summary: Overtime, Elsa was depicted as the Snow Queen that stole youths and froze hearts. The dark defeated; the light repaid, but all she had a deep hatred was melding into her heart, rising too quickly for Man In Moon. Being the Guardian of Love didn't suit her; it hadn't for 213 years. But the past catches up to you, even when the hope its left has faded, leaving only scars.

Jack Frost was the only Spirit that ever caught my eye. He held power over ice and snow, and was invisible to the human eye. He was always lonely on the inside, therefore reminding me of myself. But he always wore a smile on his face like a favorite clothing piece, and his heart in his sleeve. His aura glowed with a perseverance that I found hopeless. But, in the end, he got his happy ending, and, in a way, his hope paid off.

Lucky him.

He was the one who awoke without the memories weighing him down, without the hopelessness and the lies ringing in your heart. That was what I had to go through. In a way, I was spared a few precious moments from the frigid darkness by Man In Moon's weak attempt to hide my memories from me. According to him, my sister was key in my success (like Frost, but wooptie-do, he got to forget everything), but my death... it could be removed.

More like it was supposed to be removed, to keep me from slitting their hearts with ice.

Upon awakening, it was twilight, the moon barely peaking out from its blanket, preparing for his rest. I heard his chilling voice, informing me of whom he was and of my status (dead). My first thought was my sister; was she in the crossfire? Sometimes I would think about how cute my past self was, so ignorant and full of hope. Sure I was wasting my life, but it had felt so good back then.

So I looked for my sister, and I realized... she was already dead. Fifty-six years exactly had passed since my death, and I'd never know why I didn't live through them with her. I felt my heart ache and sink to the bottom of my abdomen. Staring at the words on my sister's grave made me close my eyes and tears flow out. Ice flew around my head and landed on the grave after just a few moments, there was enough snow to build a snowman with. I drew a two coal eyes, a carrot nose, and a radiant smile in the snow, and smiled softly. Behind me, I heard a few screams of young children and the pattering of feet. I turned around to see two siblings, aged 5 and 7, hiding behind a tree.

I remembered Man In Moon telling me that no one that didn't believe in me could see me. How could they have seen me? To them, I didn't exist. I watched as the older whispered to the younger one.

"Go find Mum. Tell her the Snow Queen's here."

The younger looked up at his older sister.

"But what are you going to do?" he asked.

"Get her off your trail."

Although confused and a bit offended, I smiled softly at the relationship between the two. I could almost see the love radiating off of the two.

The five year old squeaked.

"She's smiling! Is she going to put ice in our hearts and kidnap us like she did in the books?"

My reply was the same as the elder's, just with more conviction.

"No!"

Both the seven and five year old screamed and ran from my vision, and I had enough sense not to follow after.

My heart was speeding up. Books? Frozen hearts? Kidnapping? It was swirling in my head, along with the key words: dead, me, Anna. There was one more word thrown into the mix Monster.

I ran. Not back to the forest, but to the castle library. It couldn't be true; there couldn't be such an outrageous story. Such a false lie put in my historians that knew better. Some children saw my panic and screamed for their doubtful parents, but I kept running, trying to block them out. Slowly and steadily, consciously and unconsciously, I felt my heart encase in ice, protecting me from their words, but turning me more and more to the monster they feared I was.

I opened the book with my title on it: The Snow Queen. My eyes flitted over the pages, trying to find anything, anything that disproved what the children had said, but everything just made it seem like hey were sugar-coating it. Frantic, I turned to the cover to figure out who wrote such lies. My eyes hardened. I should have known. Hans's name decorated the cover of the book. Well, I had to credit his... cliché approach. It was still believed, mostly because people were so gullible once they can't see the truth with their bare eyes. It was then, in the realization of human emotions that the one part of my heart, kept warm by the memory of my sister, froze over creating a thin layer of ice all over. But I wouldn't freeze to death.

No, I was already dead.

Years turned to decades, and decades turned to centuries, and the ice in my heart grew thicker and thicker, simultaneously growing darker as well. My anger never grew violent, no, that was too heated. My anger took form in isolation and vent to the Moon in which would never leave me alone. He always told me there was good in me, and to hold on. Sometimes, I would catch Jack begging the Moon to tell him something, anything, but never getting a response. I wanted to tell him what a pain it was to always have him intruding on your privacy, but then I realized he didn't want privacy. He wanted to be known. It was why I stayed away; his happiness was far too contagious and betraying his cold abilities.

My home was not my ice castle; it was too flamboyant. It changed with my mood, and it quickly became annoying with the frequent and growing amount of spectators. I moved to a cave in an alcove within the Northern Mountain. It was cold, dark, and isolated. It was always said that one's home reflected their personality.

And that was both who and what I was: cold, dark, and alone.

A/N: Darkness...

So for he whole Hans wrote the story of the Snow Queen, I know it wouldn't entirely made sense with the whole history name, but, come on, they both hate The Snow Queen (well, I'd assume by the way HCA wrote her) and have the same name (at least the first name),

So, I see some lightly-dark Elsa stories like this, but not as much as I put in. If you'd like more, review. I've got the whole "Guardian of Love" thing worked out for next chapter.

~ Sam

Oh, by the way, I know Man In Moon doesn't really talk to any of the Guardians (except, I think North); it's part of Elsa's uniqueness.