Three months.
She made it three months without breaking down again.
Who could say what caused it-
Perhaps it was the anniversary of their parents' death.
Perhaps it was visiting their graves.
Perhaps it was simply the remembering—
But, then again, anxiety doesn't necessarily have a cause. It comes and it goes and there are good times and there are bad times and who can tell when a bad time is coming before it gets there only that at one moment you were good and then all of a sudden that changed and the world is crashing around you, the air itself pounding in your ears, your blood running cold, and you unable to breathe, unable to get any oxygen through your lips, but it's there, you're trying, but the trying doesn't seem to do any good—
Frost spread around her feet and outwards,
started towards the trees in the palace gardens,
coated the tree trunks–
she gave herself a moment of control,
forming ice gloves on her hands because
gloves helped and even if they were gloves of ice—
It helped.
The frost stopped.
And she locked herself up in her room again, burying herself in tomes of paperwork, making sure to keep real gloves on her hands at all times. Every now and again, she'd allow herself to play with her powers because she'd been doing well. She'd been doing really well. But when a crash comes, it's all she can do to even reach out again, especially when her crashes can be so…devastating.
Elsa could hope to control her powers,
but the anxiety….
There was no controlling that.