A.N.: Just a few changes have been made to Arendelle for the sake of the story: the king and queen are still alive, Elsa is the only princess and slavery is prominent. Written while the beautiful song of the same name from How to Train Your Dragon was on repeat.
The first time she saw her was on one of her rare appearances in front of the townsfolk.
Autumn in Arendelle was a time of great reflection and festivity. Harvest festivals were held every year supplying the people with splashes of colorful banners hung all over the city, the Royal Parade, the Troll's Prophecy Pageant and enough glogg that everyone forgot the atrocious actors spewing out the kingdom's prophesized icy doom. Every year, at the start of the harvest, the people donned rich, earthy colors and lit their fish oil lamps every sunrise, praying desperately that winter would come when it was the proper time and no sooner. All too often, winter got impatient and swept down from the mountains mid-harvest to rot the grain in frost or ice the ships in harbor. But sometimes, very infrequently, the winter was patient.
The little kingdom on the fjord had prospered during this past short growing season and was eagerly preparing to collect and store the fruits of its labor. Now they just had to hope winter was patient this year.
As the parade kicked off the festivities, the people all gathered along the edges of the road, craning their necks and shoving each other passive-aggressively, all of them hoping to see the one new fixture in the otherwise unchanging parade. But through the thick battalion of soldiers surrounding the royal family, barely more than a wisp of platinum hair was visible of the elusive princess.
The little Princess Elsa tailed along next to her mother, holding her hand tightly and glancing around nervously at the crowd of civilians peering eagerly at her through the ranks of soldiers. All she saw were people, people everywhere. More people than she'd known existed in their small kingdom.
The musicians played, the dancers leapt and Kai announced them over and over as they walked around town. The people cheered and clapped and raised glasses of glogg high in the air or bowed their head respectfully as the King, Queen and little Princess passed by them.
Elsa was considerably shorter than most of the people in the crowd. She could peer between soldiers' legs easily. Not that she was of course. People frightened her.
The ten-year old girl wanted to bury her face in her mother's skirts to avoid all the staring. But she was a princess, Arendelle's only princess. And a princess is poised and fair. So Elsa swallowed her fear and held her head high, looking forward with calm patience. Today, she could handle it. Today, the gloves were enough.
Elsa had been completely focused on looking forward. So she'd only seen the tiny girl out of the corner of her eye and from quite a distance. But the image had imprinted itself on her mind and struck straight to her core like a burst of autumn rain.
She was a slave, of that much the princess could be certain even from a quick glance. There were scratches all over her face and bruises from the palm of her master. Her clothes were baggy and shapeless, torn in places and caked in mud and horse dung. Her reddish hair was tied back in two lopsided pigtails, like it had grown in crooked. She couldn't have been older than seven and couldn't have had any less to her name.
But she had been smiling.
Hiding in the shadows, squatting in a heap of garbage on the edge of an alley, the little girl had a smile on her face like she was opening gifts on her birthday.
The smile lit up her entire face so much that it threw the rest of her into shadow. Her eyes blazed, her hair seemed to untangle itself and it mattered not if she wore royal robes, torn garments or nothing at all. Elsa was riveted. Here was true happiness: a child's amazement at the beauty of the world around her. A complete disregard of her own problems and circumstances simply because other people were celebrating and laughing together and that was a beautiful thing.
Little Elsa thought that this girl should never do anything but smile again.
She had paused in the parade, hoping to keep the girl in her sights for a little awhile longer, hoping to get the girl to notice her.
But the queen had tugged her hand and Elsa had been swept away. And by the end of the day, she had been through so much that she forgot about the momentary encounter just as assuredly as the drunk festival attendees forgot the words of the Troll's Prophecy Pageant.
The second time was several weeks later.
The leaves had all turned and most had fallen on the naked fields of Arendelle, which still remained mercifully free of winter. The air had chilled but not enough that frost had been seen on the remaining heads of wheat. Extra field hands were being called in from the shops in town and the slaves of the surrounding districts for the unprecedented opportunity for a harvest to be completed before winter's wrath ruined the crops. It was the first time in recent memory that anyone could recall such patience on the part of nature.
Elsa was supposed to have been in history lessons with her tutor but had been let out early when they discovered that today was one of those days when even holding onto a pen was impossible for the young princess.
She wandered the castle halls aimlessly instead, shaking her gloves to try to get them to dry. Everything she touched today was frosting over, she didn't know how to stop it.
The princess had walked past the door to her parents' room, a thin dusting of snow following her. She had quickened her pace as if it would make the ice melt. It had only made it come faster.
Sometimes there were days like this. Days when the cold air inside her seeped out. When the snow just followed her everywhere and the ice frosted everything she touched.
Elsa had ran the last few doors to room, barely dodging the maid coming out of the spare room next to hers and slamming her door in a most unlady-like manner.
She sank against it, the snow and ice particles swirling around her. Why today? She had been fine yesterday, she knew she would be fine tomorrow if only she could get there. In the meantime, she just had to lock herself away and pray that she wouldn't ice too many things.
Elsa had walked over to her window, thinking that perhaps the sight of the last leaves of autumn falling might help her calm down. Instead, she had found herself seeing the gate to the garden under her window being opened by Arun, the palace slave master and several ragged-looking slaves stepping timidly inside. Elsa had stood silently on her window seat cushion to watch. It was the end of the harvest so additional slaves were being brought in to gather as much from the palace grounds as they could before winter began to set in.
One of those slaves was her.
There were several other child slaves with the laborers which was why Elsa had not immediately recognized the smiling girl. But when one of the slaves had laughed at the sight of a butterfly beating its fragile wings over the garden and had been silenced by Arun with a threatening crack of his whip, memories from the parade came crashing back.
Elsa had pressed her face against the window, not caring that she was causing it to ice over.
It was undoubtedly her. Now that she remembered the encounter, there was no mistaking the lopsided pigtails, the dirty face and that brilliant smile.
She had remembered the girl's hair as slightly darker and shorter, her skin as somewhat fairer than it appeared now. She had not noticed the freckles or the way her nose turned up slightly at the end.
The child had settled into her work, throwing herself at the root vegetables with such enthusiasm and rigor that Elsa as well as the other slaves couldn't help but smile.
Elsa watched, intrigued as the child bent both knees, grabbed the stem of a carrot with both hands and heaved backwards with all her might. After a second, she relaxed, the carrot not having budged an inch. Undeterred, she wiggled her bottom, shifted her grip and pulled again. This time the carrot popped free, sending her sprawling on her rear, the carrot clutched triumphantly in hand.
Elsa had watched with an intense curiosity. Her tutor had always told her that slaves were the uncivilized scum of the earth, captives from Arendelle's empire that the kingdom used to lower the cost of labor and production. They were uneducated barbarians only suited for hard labor and discipline. They did not play, they could not laugh. If they did, they were beaten into submission.
Elsa had once asked if she could meet some of the slaves. Her tutor had told her not to be ridiculous. A princess was not meant to mingle with slaves. They were there to be the invisible structure in her life that kept it running smoothly without her ever suspecting someone was holding it up. She would never interact with them.
But as the princess had looked at the slave girl, a girl who was smiling and skipping despite her hard life and difficult work, she had wanted nothing more than to never take her eyes off of her again.
There were thousands of slaves, her tutor always said. Slaves were replaceable. In a good system, you never saw a slave more than once.
Elsa had suddenly become terrified that she might never lay eyes on the girl again. Or worse, she might once again forget how her braids were lopsided, how her smile warmed her eyes and how the spring in her step made her seem more cultured and beautiful than any Arendellian Elsa had ever met. Desperate never to forget the way she looked again, Elsa had taken a sheet of paper from her notebook and plunked herself down on the window seat to watch the slaves work. She hadn't even realized she'd started drawing until the girl's face was half-way formed on the page in front of her.
She had sat at her window until sunset, painstakingly capturing the scene: the young girl dripping in sweat, her backside bent as she toiled over the root vegetables, grasping a single one with both hands and using her whole body to pull it free. But the smile was there, and there was a certain lightness to the toiling scene, like the subject actually very much enjoyed the work.
When the sun set and the slaves had filed out, Elsa had noticed the slave girl looking up at the palace, a strange sort of longing on her face. Elsa had pressed herself back against the wall, suddenly shy that the slave girl might notice her watching.
As the slaves vanished back to their master's manor and the sea swallowed the sun, Elsa had become aware of a startling discovery. The entire time she had been drawing, not a single ice crystal had formed. And the ice on the window had melted.
The third time they actually both got to look at each other.
It was late summer. The previous autumn had finally succumbed to winter but only after a full and plentiful harvest. The cold winds and snow had raged for four months before spring finally drove winter back up the mountain. Even summer had been mild, allowing another plentiful harvest to take root. Everyone was getting very excited and more apprehensive as the harvest festival approached.
Elsa had just turned eleven and not a day had gone by when she hadn't thought of the little smiling slave girl who had her hair in lopsided pigtails. On this particular day, Elsa had opted to take a solitary walk around the edges of the palace woodlot instead of attending etiquette lessons. She knew that they would eventually start to worry about where she was (she hadn't told anyone she was going, that would be rude) but she'd never been caught before and had always managed to make some excuse for her random absences.
Elsa had skipped a little along the rough forest path, giggling and enjoying the freedom from watchful eyes and the restrictions presenting herself as a princess constantly imposed.
She escaped out here once a week on varying days to be alone, not always during her etiquette lessons.
Elsa valued her limited freedom and the time she got to spend when she was truly alone. There was a difference between lonely and alone.
As she walked, Elsa had touched her sleeve softly several times, assuring herself that her most valued possession was still there. She carried the drawing with her everywhere, tucked into the sleeve of her left glove. Feeling the paper press against her skin always seemed to calm her powers on days when the gloves were not enough. She would never ruin this drawing, not even by accident.
She had made no new drawings. It seemed wrong to try to draw the girl without seeing her.
Elsa had walked further than she had meant to that day. Normally once the castle was out of sight she immediately turned back around and made her way home. But on this particular day, she had continued walking for no other reason than that she liked the way the setting sun lit up the leaves on the trees, their edges just starting to curl and color with the coming of autumn.
Finally, the young princess had come upon a small, abandoned shed in the woods and stopped to rest.
In the past, Arendelle had had an ice master who lived out here, gathering ice and seeing that it reached market in a timely manner. But eventually it had been decided a shed would serve better use if kept closer to the ice so the shed in palace grounds had been abandoned.
The young princess had pulled open the rotting door and slipped inside the shack, curious as to how an ice master had lived. She often wondered if she could have been the ice master if she hadn't been a princess.
The shed had been dark and charming, with the kind of silence one only gets from ruins and places forsaken by all other humans. Elsa had loved it and sat with her back to the door for quite some time admiring the various tools used to harvest ice and the simple living arrangements of a working man.
Elsa had been enjoying the silence when suddenly there was a knock upon the door at her back.
Jumping to her feet, her heart pounding, she had pressed her face against a crack in the wood to see who it was who had found her in the forest.
Her heart had stopped. It was her.
The little slave girl was in the clearing, her hands above her head, twirling freely. She appeared to be dancing and had knocked on the door only to keep time for herself as she danced past.
Elsa had kept very silent and watched in fascination as the person who had been haunting her dreams and thoughts danced and skipped past her, completely oblivious to her presence.
In the past few months, the girl's hair had grown out. It was still adorably lopsided but long enough to braid instead of just sticking out from her head in pigtails. The girl was taller, beginning to leave the adorable shortness of youth behind for a hint of the gangly limbs of pre-adolescence. She was wearing a long patchwork dress that looked like it had been passed down through all the slaves in Arendelle and no shoes. But that had in no way hindered her. The child had twirled and sang loudly in varying pitches, letting her voice echo off of the trees, the shed and its transfixed occupant.
The display was more uplifting and inspiring than anything Elsa or her hopeful dancing instructor could have imagined. Elsa should have felt jealous that a slave could dance better than the princess but had found she could not feel anything but respect and admiration. The dance belonged to the slave girl. It was beautiful because she had been the one doing it.
The girl laughed and the princess had felt her heart soar. Her laugh was even more spectacular than her smile.
Not really thinking and eager to see more, Elsa had pressed herself closer to the shed door and found herself stumbling out into the clearing as it gave way.
Startled by the sound of the door opening, the slave had slipped on her long dress and tumbled forward, crying out.
Their timing could not have been better than if they'd rehearsed it and they had collided spectacularly. Elsa had grabbed as their bodies met and found she was holding the slave girl under the arms, their torsos pressed tightly together. Unable to compensate the full weight of both herself and the other girl, Elsa had stumbled and fallen backwards, the slave landing on top of her in the dirt.
The two of them had laid there for a second staring at each other; one confused, the other merely surprised and perhaps a bit pleased. Elsa was staring right into the beautiful eyes whose color she'd had to guess in her drawing. Surprisingly, she had been right. They were icy blue like hers. One of the lopsided braids was touching her cheek.
Then abruptly, the slave had pushed herself to her feet and backed away from Elsa, muttering in a strange language Elsa could not understand, her head bowed meekly. The action had affected Elsa deeply and she had suddenly been reminded that this girl was a slave and therefore, was supposed to be invisible to people such as her. The smiling, dancing girl was the secret life Elsa was not ever supposed to know existed or care about.
The princess had tried to assure her that it was fine, that all was forgiven as she stood and brushed herself off, smiling at the little girl. More than anything she wanted the slave girl to be comfortable around her, to smile again. She had reached out to take the girl's hand or pat her arm but the slave had flinched away from her, speaking in that strange language and seeming terrified. With a glance at Elsa's confused, slightly hurt face, the slave had darted away into the darkening woods with all the speed and skill of a forest creature.
The explanation had come to the princess several seconds after the slave had vanished from sight. Of course, slaves from the west only spoke Dravidian, few of them ever learned English because it was often not required for the work they did, nor did their masters care to teach them. And the girl was too young anyway. There was no way she had been taught anything but her native language.
They could not speak to each other. This realization had caused a thin trail of ice to follow Elsa home that night.
The fourth time, Elsa finally learned her name.
Autumn was upon them again. Winter's patience had so far held out for the second year in a row and Arendelle was once again scrambling to collect the harvest.
Elsa had hoped that would mean the little slave would be returning to the palace to help with the harvest but so far, she had not seen her among the laborers. There had been another group that day, completely different from the previous day's. But not one of them had the smile she craved to see.
So Elsa had returned to the spot in the woods once again and laid out her goods from this day's kitchen raid: a loaf of bread, a slice of cheese and a few dates she'd stolen from the breakfast platter. It was a pitiful amount but Elsa had reasoned, the girl was not starving, merely underfed by her masters. If she couldn't speak to the girl, maybe she could at least communicate with her.
The day had been cool and brisk, with a strong wind rattling the remaining dead leaves high in the trees every so often. Elsa had not been wearing a coat. Cold never bothered her anyways.
She had left things here once a week for the past few months, without fail. There was no way to prove it, but Elsa was certain the food and clothes were reaching the little slave girl she couldn't seem to take her mind off of. So for the past three months she had been coming back to the old ice-master's shack and leaving food and small gifts: An old pair of her shoes that she had outgrown, a length of fabric that could make a new dress, a tiny bar of soap, a doll with hair a similar color to the slave girl's.
But not once had she seen the slave girl.
Like always, Elsa had settled down against the door of the shack to wait, like a hunter watching a trap to see if today the food and trinkets she had brought (a few small wooden toys) would finally bring the slave girl back. But as the daylight faded further on the shortening days, Elsa had sighed and stood, preparing herself for another disappointing trudge back to the castle, comforted only by the knowledge that the girl would enjoy the food and toys.
She had just reached the edge of the clearing when a quiet voice had stopped her dead in her tracks. She had turned slowly, hardly daring to believe it.
It was indeed the girl. And the smile was back. Elsa's heart had soared. She had taken a small step closer but paused as the slave's face had immediately closed off and her head had dropped.
So Elsa had remained where she was as the slave slowly made her way over to the gifts and squatted down next to them, eagerly stuffing the cheese and bread into her mouth and gagging on the dates.
She was wearing the shoes, Elsa had noted with pride. Now that she had an opportunity to observe the girl up close for a long time, Elsa had set about guessing her age. The girl's long limbs and slightly rounded face put her somewhere between seven and eight, the princess had guessed, although her eyes seemed much younger.
As she had picked up the toys, the slave girl had looked up and met the princess's gaze shyly. Elsa had drawn a deep breath. Had she been there every time, the princess had wondered, waiting under the cover of the trees but too afraid to make herself known to the princess?
Elsa had taken one look in the girl's eyes and known this to be true.
Why had she come out this time?
"Anna."
Distracted by the clear, strong voice, Elsa had completely missed the words it spoke. "What?"
The slave girl had pointed at herself. "Anna." She said again. Shyly, she pointed at Elsa's face. "Prinkessa."
Elsa pointed to herself as well. "Elsa." She had said.
"…Elsa…" The slave repeated. Then she had smiled.
The slave had scampered away into the woods after that, clutching the tiny toys joyfully to her chest. But Elsa had remained in the clearing until well after dark, unable to stop smiling.
The fifth time made them friends.
It was the first snow and Princess Elsa had been enjoying some time outside the palace walls, relishing in the one season that let her be herself without hurting anyone. Her powers had been growing stronger this past year but thoughts of Anna helped her keep them under control. No one in the palace, not even the maid who chipped ice from the walls knew that she could now shape perfect snowflakes and ice sculptures whenever she wanted.
She had been trying to return to the shed in the woods to see the slave girl, Anna again but her etiquette tutor had finally grown impatient at her constant absence from her lessons with him and told her father who had made her sit for all the lessons at once.
So Autumn had been chased away by the howling Winter as Elsa had sat in a stuffy room, politely answering questions, balancing books on her head and repeating mantras of good charm and will all the while wondering how many carrots Anna had pulled that harvest.
Elsa had been walking around the edge of the palace grounds, clomping through the foot of snow in a most unlady-like manner and contemplating escaping into the woods but knowing that she'd be caught very quickly with her father keeping a closer eye on her. And that would mean no more visits to try to see Anna again.
The princess had been about to retreat back inside when a laugh had echoed across the silent yard, setting her very core vibrating.
Elsa could have identified that laugh in a crowded room with a full brass band playing.
"Elsa?"
The young princess felt her heart soar.
The slave girl had found her.
Anna had stepped forward, smiling timidly as she trudged through the snow, hauling a bucket behind her. She had beamed up at Elsa as they drew closer. The bucket sloshed with water, probably taken from the well just outside the castle yard.
Anna must be owned by a nearby nobleman, Elsa had realized. There would be no other reason for her to be gathering water from that well.
As the slave set the bucket down, the princess had noticed a glaring black-blue bruise around the girl's left eye. She had stepped closer and run a gentle finger along the fresh bruise on Anna's face as the slave looked on in curiosity. She had been hit by her master.
It wasn't fair. Anna, the sweetest, kindest, best person Elsa had ever met was the one who would be beaten most cruelly just for being who she was. The princess had felt her eyes tearing up and had to look away from Anna as inexplicable shame rose in her chest.
To her surprise, Anna had taken her hand from her face and held it reassuringly in her own.
Anna wasn't wearing mittens of any kind and her dress sleeve had barely covered her wrist. But her hands were warm. So warm.
Elsa had marveled at this as their palms slid together, the hard, calloused palms of the slave scraping against the pale, soft ones of the princess. She'd looked into ice-blue eyes that matched her own and found her chest constricting at the impossibly soft look in Anna's eyes.
And at that moment, without Anna saying a word, Elsa had known the slave girl didn't want to be anywhere but at her side.
Softly, Elsa had extracted her hand and turned away, not wanted to cause Anna to be late for her chores and receive more beatings. She had gently gestured for Anna to pick up the bucket and leave, sad that they would not get to spend time together.
But Anna had had ideas of her own.
A thick, wet snowball had collided with Elsa's neck, snow raining on her shoulders. An absolutely adorable giggle had followed it.
Without thinking Elsa had turned with a wicked smile, swirled her hands in front of her body, gathering the power between them, forcing it to expand…
When she had finished, there was an enormous ball of snow hovering above her hands.
When she had seen Anna's utterly dumbfounded face, Elsa's heart had stopped.
No one outside the palace knew about her powers.
What had she done?
It had just been so natural. Around Anna, she could be free, be herself without being judged. But this...Anna was going to be afraid of her, she was going to run away. Elsa's heart had clenched. She'd never see her again.
But to the Princess's surprise, the corners of Anna's mouth had slowly turned upwards as she looked at the giant snowball. She began to bounce lightly on the balls of her feet, grinning at Elsa.
Then had Anna squealed in delight and pelted off running. After a moment of stunned pleasure, Elsa had chased after her, laughing like she hadn't in years, balancing the enormous snowball above her head.
She had chased Anna halfway across the grounds before she'd finally thrown the giant snowball. It exploded around the girl, burying her in an instant.
"Anna!" Elsa had cried, rushing forward, terrified that she had killed the girl under all that snow.
But a small-fiery head had popped out of the pile a few seconds later, giggling and grinning madly. Anna had turned to Elsa, her face flushed with cold and wet with snow.
"Catcme!" Anna had shouted, wriggling free from the pile and dashing off again, glancing back excitedly to see if Elsa was following.
Elsa hadn't needed to understand Dravidian to know what that meant. She had made another snowball and hurled it after Anna's retreating form.
When they had finally tired of chasing each other with snowballs, Anna had gently taken Elsa's hand again.
"Sannamen?" She asked.
Elsa had furrowed her brow, not understanding the word.
Anna had repeated the word and stooped down to start rolling snow into a large ball. Then Elsa had understood.
The snowman they built was thick and round and barely as tall as Elsa, with a kind face and a smile of chocolate pieces Elsa had stolen from the kitchens to snack on.
There was something about making him with her hands rather than her gift that made Elsa's chest feel very light. As she added the final piece of his smile, she'd turned to Anna for approval.
And the little slave girl had eagerly rushed forward and thrown her arms around the tiny snowman and the princess, smiling so brightly that Elsa had felt certain she would melt right along with the snowman.
Before today, her powers had never given her the slightest bit of pleasure.
Now, Elsa would gladly keep them forever if it meant building more snowmen with Anna.
The final time came too soon.
Elsa and Anna had continued to see each other regularly for over a year, meeting up at the old ice shed to go for long walks in the woods whenever Anna could sneak away and Elsa could come out of her room, sneaking into the palace kitchens and sampling all the chocolate, building snowmen in the ballroom at night no matter what the season. Elsa had never been happier. Anna had never smiled so much despite the bruises and cuts littering her body that seemed to multiply each time Elsa saw her.
Elsa was now approaching her thirteenth birthday. Her Father, the king was keeping a very close eye on her in apprehension of the upcoming milestone. Thirteen was her bridge to womanhood and her acceptance of her birthright as the next queen.
Anna had just turned nine, which she had assured Elsa of using her fingers and much excited jabbering in her native language.
The two had met at the ice shed at the agreed upon day and time. Elsa had known she didn't have long that day, her father was expecting her for a ceremonial rehearsal about an hour from the time she and Anna met. But any time with the slave girl was better than nothing.
Anna had led the walk today, taking Elsa back along the path she usually scampered down when they parted. She had jabbered excitedly the whole time, even though she knew Elsa couldn't understand a word of it. Elsa hadn't cared. She could listen to Anna talk all day.
Anna had led her behind the great waterfall gracing Arendelle's fjord, through Lord Mithran's lands (where Anna had grabbed Elsa's arm and pointed gleefully at the slave quarters, clearing up the mystery of her ownership) and finally back to the clearing.
There, Anna's face had turned up expectantly in a look Elsa knew better than she knew her own reflection. She'd smiled back.
The snowman they'd built had been small and lopsided, since Elsa had known she was running out of time. But Anna had seemed to love it even more than their other ones. And to Elsa's astonishment, when they'd finished, the slave had pulled a carrot out of the sleeve of her dress and boldly added it to the snowman's face.
In the princess's eye, it had been perfect.
When they had parted, the two of them had agreed as usual to the time of their next meeting: holding up fingers to say how many days, indicating a sun position for the time. Two days from then at a little after noon had been decided. Then Anna had dashed off into the woods, as usual, not looking back. And Elsa had turned away too, smiling to herself and not taking advantage of the opportunity to look at Anna one last time.
And then, like a dead leaf on an Autumn breeze, Anna was gone.
The next day, Elsa had been sitting in on a trade meeting with her father, an Arendelle noblemen and a foreign trade partner. The sun had been slowly setting and Elsa was exhausted but still diligently taking notes. Her pen had moved automatically in her gloved hand as her thoughts drifted to the next day, to Anna.
She'd been practicing making slippery ice, eager to take Anna sledding or ice skating. She'd nearly perfected it. She knew it would make Anna so happy…
She had been so lost in thought, she almost missed what her father promised the foreign nobleman in exchange for desperately needed additional storage coffers for the unprecedented surplus harvest from yet another patient year.
Slaves. Two hundred of the finest from the castle and Arendelle nobles.
This by itself would not have bothered Elsa very much. Slaves were sold all the time. Only the nobleman in attendance, the one currently nodding his agreement was none other than Lord Mithran.
The temperature in the room had dropped impossibly fast. Elsa had felt her gloves turn to ice as her stomach dropped to the floor and stayed there. Her father had caught her gaze and his eyes had flashed dangerously. As Elsa had stood and practically ran from the room, her father had made excuses for her. Elsa didn't hear them.
The door to her room slammed and she ripped off the gloves. She'd begun pacing, unable to calm down.
It was just a slave trade, they happened all the time. Anna had been safe up until now, why shouldn't she still be?
All the same, Elsa had been panicking so badly her room iced over in several inches of rime. Finally, she'd thrown open her window, conjured a large pile of snow outside and leapt out of it, pelting off towards the forest.
Elsa had desperately escaped to the shed, pacing in the moonlight and praying that by some miracle Anna would appear. She paced all night, her bare feet growing dirty and bloody, the snow falling thickly all around her. She would have tried to find her way back along the path Anna had taken her on earlier but feared losing her way in the dark wood. So Elsa had waited.
Anna never came.
She was not there at the agreed upon time the next day either.
You never see a good slave more than once.
Elsa had barricaded herself in her room for days to hold back the cold, refusing meals and company but it still had not been enough. The entire palace had been doused in snowflakes and ice, causing the staff to walk the halls bundled up in several layers, cursing as they slipped and muttering in hushed whispers about what had made the princess upset. No one knew.
In the end, everyone agreed it was just nerves about the upcoming ceremony.
Alone in her room, the princess curled up on the ice-coated floor, unable to move. The air around her was frozen with glittering ice crystals and snowflakes suspended in place.
She should have known. All the bruises, all the cuts, every time Anna had winced when Elsa patted her back. A rebellious slave is quick to be beaten. And even quicker to be sold.
Had Anna known? Had she known that day in the woods that day they'd built the lopsided snowman…had she known it was her last time seeing Elsa?
Elsa had wept bitterly at the thought of the little girl hiding that pain from her.
They had never had a real conversation, never spent more than a few hours together at a time, never slept in the same bed or shared more than a few bites of food. But Elsa had never felt closer to anyone in her life.
And now she was gone.
Now today, on her coronation day, the new Queen of Arendelle had been presented with a gift of slaves from Weselton. One of them had been a thin, strong girl with fiery braids and brilliant ice-blue eyes.
"A fine, strong worker." The slave-master had told her when the normally passive queen had paused, staring at the specimen before her. He'd taken hold of the slave's arm and pulled her forward for the queen to examine more closely. He bared his teeth in a grin. "She's also perfect for breeding."
But she wasn't Anna.
Little Anna, with the brilliant smile, unbreakable spirit and strong, warm hands. Anna, who reminded Elsa that she was not alone. Anna, whose warm touch had thawed Elsa's lonely heart.
The queen had stared at the slave so long that she forgot everything else.
Little Anna was gone, crushed into the life of a slave, the fire in her eyes long dead and her smile forgotten like the fallen leaves of Autumns past. She did not meet Elsa's gaze.
She had been beaten into submission.
That was the day Winter's patience ran out.
A.N. If there is sufficient interest, I may expand this or write an Anna's POV one-shot. But I kind of like it as an AU could've-been pairing. Reviews please!