~ ~ Anna ~ Present Day ~ ~
Anna cannot remember dashing through the castle, nearly knocking over her favorite tutor, running through the streets of Arendelle, and finally ending up on the docks, at the end of the longest pier, gazing longingly out at the water, but she supposes all that must have happened. It must have, because here she stands, barely balanced where wood ends and sea begins, wishing she could step out onto the ocean and run into the horizon. Her chest heaves as her breathing slows, leaving the young princess drenched in cold sweat and alight with dread and anticipation. She feels as if her heart is about to explode, it could be any second now, but the minutes pass and she still stands there, whole and alive as ever. It's unfathomable to her, with the feelings that course uncomfortably through her, that she looks the same as she always has on the outside, that she's still just an eighteen-year-old human girl with strawberry blonde hair and freckles and skirts rumpled and creased from running.
Her reflection in the gently lapping water of the fjord reassures her, but the emotions within her leave the young princess shaking, feeling as though she should have been turned inside out or somethingby now.
But she hasn't, and the long minutes of waiting don't change that. They do, however, eventually allow her to make out purple sails adorning a proud, well-crafted ship, and eventually, the golden suns illuminating the sails, and the three silhouettes at the bow she is most anxious to see. Though it will be longer still until she can see the faces of her beloved aunt, uncle, and cousin, Anna's gaze doesn't waver, and her thoughts do not stray from calculating, every few minutes, approximately how long it will be until the ship docks. She doesn't allow them to, because if she did, she might see blood staining the floor of Arendelle's deepest, darkest dungeon, might think of the soldiers she'd overheard just last night, back pressed tightly up against the cold stone of the alcove that barely concealed her, sneaking back to her room after a midnight cup of cocoa. Her mind might recall what they said, and the knowledge is already eating her alive, spinning webs of horror inside her mind, delicate silk nightmares, even as she squints into the descending sun desperately, watching as waves part for the ship whose arrival she so desperately anticipates.
By the time the ship finally reaches the dock, Anna feels as if she has waged an entire battle, her mind is cut up and torn and bloody from trying not to think and thinking about not thinking. Her brilliant aquamarine eyes are unfocused as she greets her Uncle Thomas, King of Corona, and her Aunt Primrose, the Queen. It is Rapunzel's arrival that she has really been waiting for, but even as she falls into her cousin's arms, her confidante finally here, she feels shaky and out-of-sorts. Even a friendly lick from Rapunzel's chameleon, Pascal, isn't enough to pull her from her funk, although when his tongue attaches to her cheek, she does manage a weak smile.
As their royal parents greet each other, Rapunzel's intense green eyes flit around Anna's face, trying to discern the problem. Anna knows she has not fooled her cousin in the slightest, but her eyes plead the other girl to stay silent. "Later," she whispers, and Rapunzel nods.
Though normally the two girls can't help talking over each other in excitement, the walk back up to the castle is filled only by Rapunzel's chatter; Anna cannot risk being overheard by either of their sets of parents or even the guards flanking them. She tries to concentrate about what Corona's no-longer-lost princess is saying, but only a few words here and there penetrate the fog encasing her mind.
"Anna, did you hear me?" Rapunzel asks finally, seemingly puzzled. "My parents finally agreed to knight Eugene for rescuing me! We're officially courting!" she squeals.
"Finally," Anna smiles, genuinely excited for the girl she considered a sister. "That's so exciting, Punzie. Really," she adds, when the other girl's eyebrows raise in disbelief.
"I've never seen you like this," Rapunzel observes, lowering her voice. "Something must really be ... I mean, I can't ... you're so quiet," she finally manages.
"I have to tell you something," Anna murmurs. "Something big. Something bigger than big. But I can't right now. So please, just keep talking. About Eugene, about Corona. I'm listening, I swear," she says. Rapunzel nods, catching on, and continues talking about how Eugene is adjusting to being close to the royal family, and his mishaps and run-ins with the other knights who, until a few years ago, had been trying to hunt him down. Anna manages to at least laugh in the right places this time around, and something in Rapunzel's eyes tells her she knows something is wrong and that she'll cover for her, so their parents don't notice the lack of chatter that usually surrounds the two. Anna's sure her eyes can't fully express her gratitude, so she loops her arm through her cousin's as they walk, wishing time would hurry up so she could confide in her friend.
Anna hadn't even known Rapunzel until the girl had shown up, barefoot, chameleon on her shoulder, and in the company of a wanted thief, after being missing for fifteen years. The news had reached Arendelle before anywhere else, as the Queens were sisters and had grown up close. Each had lost a child around the same time, and both had let their grief seclude them, wrapping both Arendelle and Corona in gloom and despair. Anna saw real joy on her mother's face for the first time in years when she learned of her niece's return, and the Queen had even managed to leave her bed for a couple of hours. Though her mother had been too weak to leave Arendelle, Rapunzel and her mother, the Queen of Corona, soon visited, re-forging the connection between the two kingdoms. Anna had grown up locked in a castle, Rapunzel in a tower. Both girls were bright, inquisitive, outgoing, and eager for adventure, and they became friends within minutes of meeting each other. Through the three intervening years, Rapunzel came to Arendelle as often as she was allowed, bringing either a parent or her ex-thief/rescuer, Eugene, and she had Anna had become best friends. And though Rapunzel can't replace Elsa, the sister who died before Anna could remember her, she considers the bubbly, kind-hearted princess as close as a sister and cherishes their relationship.
The rest of the evening passes, for Anna, in a similar daze, as Arendelle's Royal Council greets the visiting dignitaries, the two families sit down to dinner, and chatter throughout a prolonged dessert, until finally, the Queen gets tired and excuses herself, and the King follows her to help her to bed. Anna knows her mother has to be exhausted, even walking to the docks and back is more than the Queen has done in years. She watches her mother's retreating back as she limps away, leaning heavily on the King, with guilt, but her discussion with Rapunzel cannot wait any longer. Her quick-thinking cousin excuses them from the table as well, citing the need to make a warm winter coat for Pascal - the small reptile isn't adapted to such cold temperatures. King Thomas and Queen Primrose accept this excuse easily, and soon the royal couple of Corona retires to bed as well, leaving the two girls to sprint wildly through the halls up to Anna's room.
Once inside her bedroom, Anna leaps at the door, quickly closing it and locking it, wincing as it slams. Her parents are too occupied to reprimand her, it seems, and she sighs in relief as she turns to her cousin, eager to share the secret that has burdened her all day. Rapunzel is consoling an irate Pascal, who doesn't understand - or is refusing to believe - that the winter jacket thing was just an excuse.
"Later, Pascal," Rapunzel promises. "I have to talk to Anna. It's really important," the slim princess pleads with the little bundle on the bed, but Pascal continues pouting, even when the girls wrap him cozily in a handkerchief. "He'll get over it," Rapunzel assures a slightly guilty Anna. "In like, five minutes. Now tell me what's going on!"
Anna glances once again at her closed door before joining Rapunzel on her bed, careful to avoid squashing the angry chameleon as she does. She beckons Rapunzel closer before whispering, "You know the Snow Queen?"
Rapunzel's spring-colored eyes widen in shock. "The one who killed Elsa?" she whispers back. Anna knows the other girl is surprised, she rarely talks about her dead sister or the evil sorceress who had killed Elsa when the little princess was only three.
"Yeah," Anna confirms. "She's ... she's here."
"Here?!" Rapunzel squeaks in alarm. "Oh my gosh, Anna, that's terrible! Where is she? Did she try to attack you too?"
"No, Punzie, she ... she's been here. For years. Ever since she k-killed Elsa. Father keeps her locked away in the dungeons." Rapunzel's mouth is wide open with shock, and a twitch from Pascal proves even he is paying close attention.
"Anna, how do you ... you saw her, didn't you?! You went down there?" Rapunzel gasps.
"Shh!" Anna hisses urgently. "No one can know. Father forbade it."
"How long have you known?"
"Since I was five," Anna admits.
~ ~ Anna ~ Age 5 ~ ~
Despite her tender age, Crown Princess Anna of Arendelle has heard the stories. They have been whispered between maids in dark corners as they fold laundry and dust the dark empty castle, they've been muttered into disgruntled ears of fellow councilmen under the king's watchful but not all-seeing gaze. On the few occasions Anna has interacted with other village children her age, even they know, and dare ask if she has seen the monster that hides deep within the confines of the castle.
Wide-eyed and innocent, Princess Anna tells them, small chin raised in defiance, that her father, the king himself, told her the howls were only the wind, the cries came from beasts in the woods, the screams were only the creaking of the old castle at night. The other children roll their eyes and shake their heads, regarding the young princess with the same distrustful looks they give the village adults when they know they are being lied to. The incident upsets Anna, but she's comforted by the fact that she lives in the closed-off castle and would rarely ever have to see those children again.
But the insinuation remains at the back of her mind, and every time she hears even the faintest thump or howl, she shivers with curiosity rather than fear.
That night, Anna lays alone in her bedroom for hours, long after the castle staff have put her to bed and her father as looked in on her. She can feel the pulses of energy racing through her, invigorating her, and she knows sleep will not find her tonight. The sky dances behind her eyelids until she gives up and gets up, running to the window to see the rainbow of lights that shimmer in the night. She cannot sleep when the sky is awake. She has tried to explain this numerous times, but so far no one has been able to understand.
Sighing, Anna slips from bed and locates her furry slippers, before tiptoeing carefully from her room, through long, cold corridors and heavy oak doors, until she reaches the ballroom. She surveys the large space, thumb in her mouth, realizing, once again, that despite her insistence that she's abig-girl Princess, she really quite small. The cavernous space is lonely, awake and alive but empty, and it is times such as these that Anna wishes most for the presence of her sister, Elsa.
Anna holds up her fingers and counts, Elsa would be eight now, had she lived. She imagines, or hopes rather, that her sister would have played with her, would have accompanied her on her nighttime adventures and somehow made the empty castle brighter and more friendly. Elsa's voice, in her mind, can chase away monsters and sing fun from pure air. She's not sure what her sister looked like, there are no pictures of her anywhere in the castle, but in her mind Anna conjures up a larger version of herself, with rich brown hair like their mother's, looking down at her and pulling her hand along as they play.
Instead, all she has is her redheaded doll, its limp form hanging motionlessly from her tight grip.
A scream echoes through the castle, vibrating up through the very floors, and Anna gasps, for this time there is no mistaking the sounds of a monster. The moaning continues, occasionally punctuated with a shriek, and Anna's cheeks quickly streak with tears as she stands in terror, unable to move. There are vague thumps and bangs beneath her feet, more yelling, this time angry, and a shrill, sharp keening sound. Soon Anna's frightened sobbing mixes in with the noise, and it is there that Gerda, the Head of the female servants and ladies in waiting, finds the little princess after being woken by the noise. Gerda has essentially run the domestic and household affairs of the castle since the king himself was young, and therefore has much experience with young Anna. She scoops up the crying child and returns her to her room, but Anna will not calm.
The young girl murmurs her horrifying story with her head tucked snugly into Gerda's bosom, prattling on for long minutes, and even after the fifth rendition, the experienced maid can't get her young charge to bed. They are within morning's territory, albeit barely, by the time the king finishes his duties and notices the candle still burning within his young child's room.
"Father!" Anna shouts jubilantly, launching herself off of Gerda and towards the head that has peered curiously through the slightly open door. King Agdar of Arendelle hurriedly hushes his precious daughter, wrapping his arms around the excitable child as he thanks Gerda and bids her goodnight.
Giggling, Anna settles herself against her father's form as he sits them both on the bed, she is wiggly and squirmy and elated at his attention, and he gifts her with a smile, pushing wayward strawberry bangs from her eyes. But the events of the night are not so easily forgotten, and Anna runs questing fingers across the stubble of the king's cheeks, pondering how to ask her question without getting in trouble for wandering the castle at night.
"What is it, Anna?" Agdar asks her, the question apparent in her wide eyes and slightly parted mouth, in the way she tips her head and purses her little lips.
"I heard noises," she whispers, as if afraid the monster in the depths could somehow hear her. "The sky was awake, soIwas awake, and I went to play in the ballroom ... and I heard the noises."
"Mmm," the king says noncommittally. "And what do you think those noises were?"
"The kids in the village say it's a monster!" Anna exclaims fearfully. "And I know you told me it was just the castle and the wolves and the wind, but I heard something down there, I know I did!"
The fair-haired king scrutinizes his feisty daughter thoughtfully. He knows the questions will not cease until Anna knows the truth, she is too curious and too intelligent, too sheltered, too bored, and so he makes his decision. "What I am about to tell you," he begins softly, reverently, "you cannot repeat to anyone. Anna, do you understand?"
"Not even Mama?" the little girl pipes up, and the king sighs, of course it is the child who asks the toughest questions.
"Your mother already knows of this, but I advise you not to speak of it to her, and when I finish, I think you will understand why." Anna's eyes are wide with wonder and intrigue, and after a pause to let the weight of his words sink in, the king continues. "There is not a monster in the dungeons beneath the castle, Anna. There is something much, much worse."
"Worse than a monster?" Anna exclaims, clutching her doll more tightly to her chest and covering its sightless eyes, as if the stitchings of fabric and yarn might be frightened by the room's long shadows.
"Yes, worse than any monster you have ever imagined," Agdar confirms. "Anna, do you know what happened to Elsa?"
"She died," Anna answers quietly. "When I was a little baby."
"There is more to it than that, but you are correct. When you were just a few months old, a terrible sorceress called the Snow Queen broke into the castle, covered everything in snow, and killed your sister."
"Why?!" Anna exclaims, quite upset, and the king wonders if he has done right in telling her this. "Why, Papa? Elsa was only little, she was littler than me, why did the Snow Queen kill her?"
"Even to this day, Anna, I do not know." After this admission, father and daughter are briefly quiet.
"Did you get her, Papa? Did you kill the bad Snow Queen?" asks Anna finally.
"Some soldiers, the guards, and I managed to capture her before she could get to you and your mother. We imprisoned her in the dungeons, where she remains to this day. Because, my precious Anna, try as we might, no one has been able to kill that witch. Many good men have perished in the attempt. So then, the noises you and others have heard at night, the screaming and moaning? That is us trying to rid the world of her evil, and sometimes paying for it with our lives."
"Oh," says Anna, eyes wide as she processes all she has learned that night. "Why can't I talk about it to Mama?"
"Talking about anything related to the Snow Queen or even to Elsa makes your mother very, very sad, Anna. Perhaps you have wondered what has kept her in bed all these years, and now, finally, you will know. Your mother still grieves, every minute, of every day, for Elsa, because she loved her dearly, just as she loves you dearly. Sometimes it makes her so sad, she cannot get out of bed. You and I both want the best for her, don't we?" Agdar asks, and Anna nods. "Very well. Then you understand why it is best to mention none of this to her - she is already so sad, and I know that you would not want to make her sadder still by bringing all up."
"I don't want to make her sad, Papa!" Anna exclaims passionately.
"Then you must give me your word that, no matter what may happen, you won't speak of this to your mother or to anyone else. You must also promise that you will not go near or speak to the Snow Queen, or seek her out at all. Do you promise, Anna?" the king inquires gravely.
"I promise," Anna whispers determinedly, pretending to lock her mouth up and throw away the key, which finally brings forth a smile from the somber ruler of Arendelle.
"To bed with you, then, Little One," he says, tickling her until giggles erupt, and then taking advantage of her thrashing to tuck her under the covers. "It is time for little Princesses, and even old kings, to go to bed."
"Yes, Father," Anna says, burrowing under her blankets, but even after he has left and blown out the candle, she lays awake, gazing out the window, never having been more glad in her entire life that it is late May instead of winter.
~ Present ~
"Father told me, when I heard strange noises one night. He said I was never to try and find her, because even locked up, she's dangerous ..."
"But you did?" Rapunzel asks, almost in awe of Anna's daring.
"Yes," Anna admits in a hushed voice. "It was an accident, I was playing, and I stumbled upon a secret entrance to the dungeons." Rapunzel nods, indicating that she should continue. Neither girl doubts for a second that Anna explored the hidden staircase; they are too similar, and know too well the burning curiosity that comes from being confined for years on end. "And down there … I saw her."
"The Snow Queen?"
"Yeah."
~ ~ Anna ~ Age 8 ~ ~
In all fairness, Anna intends to keep the promise she made to her father. Three winters come and pass, and Anna skirts away from even the gently falling snowflakes that stick to the icy castle windows. She looks over her shoulder every few seconds when she is forced to venture outside, and tiptoes carefully over the snow, lest even her heavy winter boots sink into it.
However, the coming of gentler breezes and the steady, even tempo of the rain pounding down to eat away the snow go a long way to ease Anna's mind, and by midsummer each year, she has abandoned all caution and worry as she dances through the plush emerald grass surrounding her home.
Late summer evenings make for extended hours of play, and on one such evening, Anna explores the castle grounds for hour upon hour, hoping to discover new secrets or even hidden passageways. The sky is barely painted with periwinkle dusk by the time the princess even registers the late hour. Her father, she knows, has been in trade negotiations all day, and her mother is likely resting, perhaps with the window cracked open to enjoy the cool summer breeze. If no servant has sought her out yet, she deems she has at least another hour of play until someone notices her absence, and continues to stage a pretend ballet on the sweeping castle lawns.
The turns and twirls of her acrobatics require Anna to expand her make-believe stage, until it reaches the stone wall surrounding the castle. Trying to avoid the rocks that have come up so suddenly beside her during her inattention, Anna stumbles and falls, scraping her arm on stone. This isn't unusual for the slightly clumsy princess, and in seconds she is back on her feet again, with only a cursory glance at the shallow scrape. However, her gaze is caught by the stone that she'd hit, which looks suspiciously separated from the others. Curious, and well aware that her slight weight isn't enough to dislodge a stone wall, Anna investigates, only to discover that particular stone is loose and not cemented into the wall like all the others.
Had Anna been a different child, with a less sheltered and more stimulating upbringing, she might have reported the loose stone to the castle guard or even her parents, and might have been aware of how dangerous a weakness in the wall or a previously unknown hideout could be. As far as she is concerned, however, the greatest peril is associated with the Snow Queen that resides in the dungeons below the very castle itself, and anything outside can hardly compare to the evil of the one that had killed her older sister for no particular reason other than a thirst for blood.
So, Anna immediately gets to work moving the stone, with occasional glances around for patrolling guards. As said guards are actively on the lookout for external dangers, none of them has the time nor inclination to monitor the activities of an eight-year-old princess, so long as no one is causing her harm. She is able to wrestle the large boulder from its spot in the wall undetected, and ducking inside, she discovers this particular pillar of the wall is hollow: there are additional rocks missing, creating a small, winding tunnel that Anna easily fits into. Without a second thought, and gleeful at her discovery, she crawls on her hands and knees, unmindful of the dirt gathering on her dress, into the small space. It continues for a few feet and around a bend, then slopes into descending stone staircase that winds down and out of sight.
A lantern sits in an alcove at the beginning of the staircase, a layer of dust indicating it has been long abandoned. After a few tries, Anna is able to light the lantern with the matches that accompany it, and she holds it aloft, peering down the spiral staircase. The light only illuminates down a couple of turns, however, so Anna creeps closer and closer, suddenly aware of the chill of the dank air, and the delicate summer slippers adorning her feet. If Gerda or Kai, or, God forbid, her father, found her here, she would be in huge trouble, strangely, this lends the adventure even more appeal instead of detracting from it. Her stomach tightens with excitement at the thought of what she might discover, and the thrill of something unfamiliar, something yet to be explored in the nooks and crannies of the grounds she thought she knew so well, spurs her on.
"Hello?" the princess whispers, but there is no answer save for a slight echo of the greeting, and Anna immediately feels foolish. It is clear that the passage has been long abandoned, so she doesn't see the harm in exploring a little further.
She edges further and further down the staircase, the lantern's glow illuminating her path, sure that around every curve and corner, she will finally discover the end of the passageway. In reality, it is many long minutes before the darkness lessens of its own accord and the passage, once sloping so steeply downward, begins to level. The steps end at last, and Anna reaches the bottom only to find herself in an abandoned prison cell.
She knows this particular cell must be nonfunctional; the iron gate hangs off its hinges at an odd angle, leaving a gaping opportunity for escape. The bars of the cell next to her, in contrast, are continuous and straight, the gate unscathed, she is sure if said gate were closed, it would fulfill its purpose of keeping a potential criminal inside. As it is, however, the next three or four cells are all empty, their doors slightly open, functional but not currently in use. Anna leaves the cell with the hidden staircase carefully, making sure to note its location, before following the row of lit torches past the row of cells.
The dungeon, as Anna figures the underground prison must be, could hold dozens of people, though she supposes it is good that Arendelle doesn't have quite that many criminals. In fact, she would assume the entire prison to be unoccupied if not for the story her father had told her more than two years ago. According to him, this was where they kept the Snow Queen. Up until now, Anna has been able to keep from directly disobeying any rules on this venture. She knows she isn't supposed to be down here, but no one has told her explicitly that she cannot explore hidden tunnels found accidentally in the castle walls. She has been told, quite explicitly, however, that she is not to look for the Snow Queen, or to go anywhere near her, and until today, Anna hasn't even the faintest desire to. The icy witch killed her sister without even a second thought, in addition to causing a snowstorminsidethe walls of the castle! As if that isn't enough, it is apparently nigh impossible to kill her. All of these things bespeak great danger.
Still, Anna creeps further down the hallway, away from the hidden stairs.
After all, what will one glimpse hurt? She can just peek at the woman that had caused her parents so much pain, maybe discern something in the sorceress's face that would even begin to explain why she had murdered a three-year-old, and then go on her way. There is no need for the Snow Queen to even know she is here. And try as she might, she can't make herself leave without satiating her curiosity about the one responsible for the lonely life she currently leads.
The hallway ends abruptly, depositing Anna in what must be the main commons of the dungeons. Several larger cells line the edges of the cavernous enclosure, and a shorter hallway to Anna's right leads to a thick stone door, which is barred heavily shut. She assumes this must be the main entrance to the dungeons and is relieved that any dungeon guards must be watching from the other side of the door.
Only two of the prison cells house anything besides dust, shackles, and vermin. One holds a smashed bookcase, with various tomes spread haphazardly around it, a sad-looking desk that had definitely seen better days, and rusted bed constructed completely out of metal. In the other, Anna can make out a hunched, seemingly unconscious figure with a head of silvery white hair: The Snow Queen.
She hardly looks dangerous, Anna muses as she cautiously approaches, in fact, if she didn't know better, she might have assumed the figure to be either very sick or perhaps some sort of misfortunate beggar. As it is, she can hardly imagine the Snow Queen, fearsome sorceress or not, doing her any harm in this state, and deems it safe to get a close-up look.
When Anna is finally close enough to reach out and touch the Snow Queen, if she so desired, she lets out an involuntary gasp. She has hardly seen anyone in such a state, and if not for her father's assurances, and strained, uneven breaths of the figure, Anna would have believed the Snow Queen to be dead. The witch's back is crisscrossed in a pattern of dried blood, effectively gluing the coarse, white fabric of a roughly made shift to her body. She has never seen even the aftermath of anything so violent, save for perhaps in a book, and she finds herself unable to tear her gaze from where puddles of blood had dried a deep, brownish red, and she can't help shudder at what injuries might cause so much blood to escape.
Anna's wide, astonished blue eyes continue cataloging the details. The ice witch is beyond starved and sickly, she is emaciated, as if she hasn't eaten in years instead of weeks or months. She is also relatively small, height wise at least, and Anna estimates that, if standing, the Snow Queen might be as tall as a ten or eleven-year-old child, if that. The hair that she had assumed was white is in fact platinum blonde and matted and tangled with dried blood as well, and even from a few feet away, the entire cell smells foul.
The only adornment in the cell, besides the chains encircling the unconscious figure's raw wrists and ankles, is a metal bucket in a corner, but Anna supposes that the prisoner may not often be in a state that allows her to get to it, especially with her legs the way they are. Bruises mottle the deathly pale skin, turning it a splotchy mix of vivid purple and more healed yellows and greens. The Snow Queen's feet have not escaped unscathed either, even on the soles of both feet, where there aren't bruises, scrapes, or chafing from the manacles, Anna sees deep cuts latticing both surfaces, mirroring the pattern on the witch's back. None of the lacerations look to be healing well, and it is surprising that infection itself hasn't caused the sorceress's demise.
Anna isn't sure how to feel, how to react, and wishes she had not indulged her curiosity, desperately craves to turn back time and head back up the staircase and never enter this accursed dungeon at all. Because although her head tells her that her sister's murderer deserves this pain, and all the punishments in the world and more can't bring Elsa back, her heart doubts. Does the Snow Queen, evil as she is, deserve this? Does anyone? And why, why would anyone hold onto life at all, in the midst of such torture?
They are questions that, no matter how sharp, no matter how bright, no matter how precocious, Anna's eight-year-old intellect cannot answer.
Wanting to be rid of the nightmare in front of her and the moral quandary it presents, Anna begins to back away from the prison cell. In her haste, however, she forgets the rough, uneven texture of the stone floor, and being rather clumsy even at the best of times, finds herself sprawled on the ground. A sharp twinge of agony shoots up her ankle as she lands on it, and Anna cries out inadvertently at the sudden pain. The noise is much louder than she had intended, and made even louder still by the still, ominous silence of the underground prison. As Anna watches with horrified eyes, clutching her damaged ankle, the Snow Queen stirs.
Before she can scramble so much as a few inches backward, the figure in the cell slowly, painfully raises her head a few inches. All Anna can see is the faint outline of a face behind even more tangled, bloody blonde hair, no expression of hatred or eyes alight with malice. Just achingly slow movements and slight shaking as the Snow Queen struggles to keep her head elevated. Scared beyond measure, Anna awaits her fate, cursing her own foolishness while trying not to imagine the reactions of her parents when they found a second child murdered by the Snow Queen.
But no magic comes forth. Instead, in a thin, quiet voice, raspy with disuse, the limp form asks, "Anna?"
In her surprise, Anna answers without thinking. "You know my name?"
"Of course," the figure murmurs, every word seemingly to cause her great effort. Even that, however, cannot disguise that she deems her answer painfully obvious.
Intrigued, and convinced that the ice witch is in no state to hurt her, Anna doesn't move. "Are you really the Snow Queen?" she wonders aloud, more to herself than to her companion.
"The Snow Queen?" the voice ponders, as if this thought has never occurred to her before. After a few painfully long seconds, the Snow Queen raises a few swollen, purple fingers, and makes a tiny gesture. As she does, a frigid breeze escapes from the cell, causing Anna to gasp and shiver as snowflakes settle on her dress, in her hair, and stick to the ground around her. However, seemingly unable to sustain the magic, the Snow Queen lets the wind die down before answering, "Yes, I suppose I am."
"Why?!" The question bursts from Anna's mouth, desperate to be heard and loaded with pain.
"I cannot change who I am," the voice replies, and it strikes Anna how young the Snow Queen sounds, how vulnerable and sad. "I can't help having magic. Believe me, I've tried."
"Then why don't you just die?!" Anna screams at her angrily. "You deserve it!"
"I would if I could," the voice admits tiredly. "You think this life is worth living? I remember a different life. I was a person once too, I think."
"Why did you go bad, then? Why did you do it? Didn't you have a home? Didn't you have a family that loved you? Didn't you have a name?"
"My name ... was Elsa."
Any sympathy Anna might have been experiencing evaporates in an instant as white hot anger and disbelief flare within her chest, and she regards the Snow Queen with undisguised disgust. "W-what? No. No! You're lying. How could you? How could you mock my sister after YOU KILLED HER?!" she screams, riddled with grief.
"No ... I ..."
Anna cuts across the sorceress's week protests, unwilling to be fooled again. "You're evil! Here I was, wondering if anyone deserved all this torture ... Well you do! You deserve it! How could you, I-I hate you, I ..."
" ... A-Anna ... I ..."
But Anna is backing haphazardly away, tripping over herself in her hurry to escape. "I'm leaving!" she shouts, tears streaming down her cheeks in desolate rivers. "I hope you rot down here! You killed my sister ... y-you think it's funny ... well, you're going to be down here forever until you die! And even that isn't a bad enough punishment!" Clutching handfuls of her dress, Anna begins to outright run down the stone hallway towards the cell with the stairs that lead above. Her ankle throbs painfully, but the adrenaline racing through her veins allows her to ignore it. "I hope you go to Hell!" she yells tearfully, one last time, heart aching. She doesn't look back again.
Panting and gasping, Anna emerges from the tunnel a half hour, her forehead smeared with dirt and her dress beyond ruined. She collapses into the relieved arms of Kai, her father's advisor and head of the castle servants, who had been fretfully searching for the young princess by lantern light. He holds the little girl as she sobs, occasionally gasping incoherent words, until she calms. When the last few teardrops have dried in salty trails on her cheeks, he cautiously asks her where she has been, as he had been searching for her for more than an hour. Head hung in shame, Anna points.
Upon investigation, Kai too finds the loose boulder and the tunnel within. Judging by the princess's appearance, she had fully explored her discovery. However, the old advisor's sharp eyes alight on the few, strangely unmelted snowflakes dusting the princess's adventure-tangled hair and the velvet shoulders of her once-beautiful gown. Pairing these clues, he comes to an incredulous but firm conclusion. "You've been to see the Snow Queen," his low voice discerns. It isn't a question.
"It was an accident! Kai, I promise! You cannot tell father!" Anna cries before succumbing to tears once again.
"Did she hurt you?" Kai asks, holding the little princess at arms length to examine her, but Anna shakes her head quickly.
"No," she murmurs. "No. She didn't do anything."
Though the unending moisture coming from her eyes indicates otherwise, Anna attributes her likely-sprained ankle to a fall, and Kai decides to let the matter drop, providing he obtains her promise to never go near the Snow Queen again. It is much easier for Kai to replace the boulder than it had been for Anna, and he refuses her offers of help, telling the young heir to the crown to rest her ankle. Soon the rock is back in place, with nothing besides their knowledge to distinguish it from any of its innocent companions, and Kai scoops up the princess in his arms and carries her back toward the castle.
"Kai?" Anna asks softly before they have gone too far. "How did you know about the Snow Queen?"
"Besides the you and the Queen, only Gerda and myself know for certain that the Snow Queen lies within the castle dungeons," Kai admits. "Your father knew that people would be suspicious. Gerda and I have served him longest, so he trusted us with the secret, knowing that we could help address questions that arose among the servants and villagers."
Anna nods before voicing her next, seemingly unrelated, question, "What did Elsa look like? No one has ever told me."
Kai sighs, figuring that the princess is simply in one of her more inquisitive moods. He can't see the harm in indulging her, especially since it is difficult to find anyone within Arendelle who knows much about the deceased princess. "She looked a lot like you," Kai says, and Anna's sharp, wide eyes note the sad smile upon his face. "Same nose. Same big, beautiful blue eyes," he says, turning his smile upon her fondly, and she giggles. "The main difference was her hair," he continues. "It was pale blonde, so blonde it was nearly white," he reveals, and Anna gasps. Suddenly suspicious, he questions her sudden curiosity.
"Kai, I ... I think the Snow Queen ... I think she's a shape-shifter," Anna says quietly.
"Why do you say that?" Kai asks urgently, almost sharply. He stops walking abruptly, wanting to impress upon Anna the seriousness of her statement.
"S-she made herself look like Elsa," Anna whispers in an anguished voice. "Or how Elsa would have looked, I guess. She did it t-to tease me, and to mock Elsa!"
Kai curses lowly, and it is a mark of Anna's extreme distress that she barely registers the language. "Even after all the pain and hurt she has caused, she still feels the need to torture members of your family," he says. "Anna, I do not understand it, but you must realize this: Even at her weakest, lowest point, the Snow Queen is still evil and cunning. She proved this once again tonight. You must never go back there, do you understand me?"
His firm words bring back another promise, one that she had made three years ago and broken today. Though any physical hurt she experienced is her own fault, Anna finally realizes the gravity of the situation. The Snow Queen is extremely dangerous. She isn't something to be curious about or even tell tales about. She is an evil that must stay contained until she can be destroyed. "I promise," she tells Kai, with even more conviction than she'd had when she was five.
Anna expects to have to dodge her father's questions upon returning to the castle, but as it turns out, he hadn't even noticed her absence. Rather, it had been a fretting Gerda that had sent Kai after her. Kai tells her not to mind her father; there is a terrible famine in the Southern Isles that her father is having to contend with, as they haven't sent the goods they promised yet still have the gall to ask for aid. Anna cannot doubt the advisor's words, as King Agdar is still muttering about surpluses and how much to gift to the Southern Isles when he bids her goodnight.
Much like that fateful night three years previously, sleep evades her for hours. Nestled in layers of warm blankets, despite the mild season, Anna lies awake late into the night. Silent tears create puddles of sorrow upon her downy pillows, and the images from that day's wayward adventure stain her mind. She cries for Elsa, who is dead, she cries for the sisterhood they never got to have, and she cries for her family, unable to fathom the depths of the Snow Queen's wickedness. She cries as she tries to push pictures of the Snow Queen posing as Elsa, bloody and dying, from her mind, as she knows dwelling on them would only bring the witch satisfaction.
She doesn't know that, stories below her, another little girl cries as well, her heart breaking with the knowledge that even her baby sister now considers her and her powers evil.
~ ~ TBC ~ ~