A/N: Merry Christmas, everybody! I know, I know. I haven't been writing for sooo long, and, er, I really apologize for that. But now I'm going to make things even worse by writing a fanfic on Frozen instead of LesMis. I'm terrible, huh? Well, I couldn't help it. I read some really wonderful Frozen fanfics (and some really distressing ones – no hard feelings to anyone) and so I thought, "Why not make my own?" Enjoy, and again, Merry Christmas! (No Elsanna! Just good ol' sister love.)
Chapter One
"Elsa?"
Anna peeked into the chamber. It seldom snowed in the young queen's room nowadays, and the glow of the fireplace stretched its rosy fingers even to the doorway. A perfect mood to break the news . . .
"I'm here, Anna."
At the sound of Elsa's voice, quiet and gentle, the strawberry blonde squirmed. "Hi! I mean, good evening . . . your Highness . . . How was your meeting with, er, what's-his-name?"
"Prince Flynn of France. I believe it went smoothly enough. How was your afternoon with Kristoff?"
"My afternoon with Kristoff?" laughed Anna nervously, plastering a smile on her face. "Well, it went, you know, the way things are supposed to happen when you go down to the village and meet stranger—um, I mean, ordinary people along the way, you know? Of course, you're the Queen, so you don't really go to town and meet strange people—er, but anyway, that doesn't really matter. But Kristoff was a real gentleman, even though he's not a prince, so . . ."
As she listened to the endless babble, Elsa searched her sister's face gravely. A feverish light glowed in Anna's eyes, and her round cheeks flushed a strange crimson. Slowly, Elsa's smile faded.
"Anna!" she broke in sharply. Her sister started and looked up, fidgeting with a braid of hair. Immediately chagrined with her own sudden change of mood, Elsa took a deep breath and began again, not ungently, "Anna, what's going on? There's something you're not telling me."
"I . . . well, it's nothing really. And I don't want to startle you or anything."
"You can tell me, Anna," prompted the Queen quietly, keenly observing the princess's uneasiness. "You can tell me anything."
Anna shook her head vehemently. "I can't. I don't even really know myself, so I'll just step outside, and when I puzzle it all out I'll let you know, ok?" As she spoke, the princess laughed uncomfortably and retraced her footsteps to the door.
"Anna?"
"It has nothing to do with you," returned the girl curtly, "I shouldn't have come here. It doesn't do any good, so I'll be going now."
"Anna!"
But the princess had fled up the corridor, and somewhere downstairs a door slammed shut.
Chilly frost pervaded the Queen's chamber, snuffing out the warm, hazy fire. Anna shouldn't be acting like this. She never spoke that way! Not warm, sunshiny Anna of Arendelle.
Heaven knows how guilty Elsa still felt over the near-death experience. No, not near death. Shivering, she remembered the icy touch of Anna's face—a lifeless statue crafted by the Queen's own accursed hand. Afterwards, she had tried so hard to fix everything, to bridge over the chasm of echoing silence and slammed doors. But every time she saw that sweet face and heard that silly little voice, she saw the girl forever frozen in love and agony.
Elsa closed her eyes, painfully recalling the night after their reunion.
"Elsa?"
"What is it, Anna?"
"I wanted to tell you something. Something important. It's just that . . . well, I wanted you to know I would never ever shut you out."
"How could you say that to me, Anna? You have every right to shut me out. After what I did . . ."
"But you only did that because you loved me. And you didn't want to hurt me. You did more than anyone in all of Arendelle ever did. People always hurt each other, but you sacrificed everything to keep Arendelle safe. You're a hero, Elsa."
"El—Queen Elsa!"
The great hulk of an iceman appeared at the doorway, shattering Elsa's reverie.
"What is it, Kristoff?"
"It's Anna," he gasped, breathless and worried. "She's sick."
Elsa's face turned ashen and a great blizzard shrieked outside, rattling at the windows. "Sick?" she repeated. "Where is she? Take me to her!"
Half stumbling down the stairs, Kristoff led Elsa into the cellar below the castle.
"What on earth is she doing here?" said Elsa. "She'll freeze herself to death!"
"I d-d-didn't know you f-felt the cold," stuttered Kristoff, face pale, lips blue, and breath manifest in tiny white clouds.
"Give me some credit, Kristoff. Look at yourself!"
They rushed down the underground steps, halting in horror at the sight of the small, pale figure that lay at the bottom of the staircase.
"Anna!" cried Elsa, dropping down to her knees and feeling the princess's forehead. She withdrew her hand, heart pounding hard. The platinum blonde managed to steady her voice, "She's burning, Kristoff! Get help, quickly."
"Let me bring her up," insisted Kristoff, his eyes never leaving Anna's face. Feeling terribly helpless, Elsa watched as the young official lifted her sister into his arms and carried her up the stairs.
Anna shivered. An uncomfortable chill pricked at her uncovered feet, making her retreat into a bundle of mattresses. Elsa sat sleeping on the floor at the edge of the bed, clutching her hand.
Oh. So that explained the numb fingers. Without thinking, Anna yanked her hand away.
Elsa murmured in her sleep and turned her head, revealing a face worn-out by tears and worry.
Remorse filled every inch of the strawberry blonde's heart. She slipped her little hand back into her sister's and squeezed her eyes shut, hoping for sleep to come back and claim her. But the sky's awake. And I'm awake . . .
She was crying. Two weeks after being reunited with her sister, Anna lay in bed, sobbing and shaking.
Suddenly Elsa's comforting arms were around her, and a lovely, quiet voice whispered, "Anna, what's wrong?"
"Elsa?" The young princess snuggled close to her sister and tried unsuccessfully to stifle her sobs.
"I'm here," she said soothingly. "What's wrong?"
"I . . . I went to your room," she sniffled, "And your door was shut. I tried to . . . to knock, but you wouldn't open."
"Shhh, it was just a dream," whispered Elsa, pain visible in her crystal eyes. "I'm so sorry, Anna."
"But that's not it," the girl choked, tears streaming down her cheeks, "It was my fault. I banged open the door and you were sitting on the other side of the room—" A spasm of hiccups and sobs broke her voice, and every little cough stabbed Elsa's heart. "And you were . . . frightened of me."
Elsa's lips twitched. She didn't mean to laugh, but the idea of little Anna hurting her? "Oh Anna, I would never fear you."
"You promise?"
"I promise."
Suddenly the smell of smoke snapped Anna out of her dream. Horrified, she jerked away from her sister and gazed at her hand.
Her hand. Her own hand . . .
"Hello, princess."
An old, withered voice that belonged to an old withered woman suddenly spoke in the silent room. "Out of the darkness in the corner, a young lady stepped forward, as beautiful and radiant as the sun.
"How did you get in here?" gasped Anna, trying to get up from the bed.
"Shhh, no, no, no," whispered the woman soothingly, advancing with her slender arms stretched out. "We don't want to wake your sister, do we? Poor Queen Elsa, so tired from worrying over you. But I don't have much time. You must come with me."
"What? Why?" Alarmed, Anna threw her arms over the sleeping Elsa. "Get away from my sister!"
"Look at yourself," replied the woman sympathetically. "Look at what you're doing."
"Anna looked down at her hands and yelped, flying as far away from her sister as possible. "What . . . what's wrong with her?"
"Oh, there's nothing wrong with her. It's you, Anna."
"No, get away!"
"This time, it's all you. But can you be brave, little one?"
"No!"
"Can you be the hero?"
Anna shrank into the corner, wrapping her arms around her knees and squeezing her eyelids shut.
"Poor princess Anna. You have no choice. Unless . . . you'd risk hurting her. She'll fear you, Anna. She'll hate you. But you must do the right thing."
A ghost of a smile floated over the strange lady's lips, and she stretched out her hand in offering. Anna hesitated. But a glance at her sister was all it took to harden the soft features of the princess's face and lift her hand to the stranger.