Author's Notes: This is a minor AU at the start, that will turn into one a little less minor along the way as Elsa and Anna grow up. That's the ripple effect for you. But it came from me imagining the characters of Frozen taken (somewhat) out of the children's story/fairy tale context, and adding a bit more historical and psychological context. The story itself is about the effects of mental trauma on relationships, and how magic and other secrets influence that further, especially in a Victorian-ish world. Which all sounds rather stuffy but basically this is a story about family.
I'm keeping some of the anachronisms from the movie (mainly in dialogue and family interactions) because it doesn't feel quite Frozen without them, to me. Also, given that this is still a fantasy story, the psychology, especially as it relates to brain anatomy, is not going to be 100% accurate.
They heard the girls run giggling through the halls that night, of course. The royal chambers were kept separate from the bustle and noise of castle business, so at night every sound echoed. Silence, a rare quality now after the princesses' births, felt heavy in the air for only a few hours. Just long enough for Anna to sleep as little as she thought she needed.
Agdar wrote letters at his desk, but heard the pitter-patter outside, louder than the scritching of his pen. He snorted to himself, and decided to order them back to bed once this letter was finished. It would mean more snow for the servants to wake up to, but it wasn't like they did anything dangerous. Even at eight, his heir was a good girl, dutiful in almost every area of life, and kept her sister mostly in line.
Idunn woke at the sound of a slip, a fall, and two muffled girlish giggles. "What is it?" she asked, sitting upright in the bed.
"Anna can't sleep during the skylights anymore than I can," Agdar said, dryly. "And she thinks we don't know when they leave bed."
The queen sighed, yawned. "I'll bring them back."
"Nonsense, we'll do it together in a few minutes." He allowed a small smile. "If we must be the villains of their little play, for the sake of order, there is still no cause to take all their fun."
Idunn began twisting her hair up. "Kai will not be happy when he finds the secondary ballroom full of snowmen tomorrow."
"Elsa will charm the scowl right off his face," Agdar said, a hint of pride in his smile.
The smile lasted until he finished the letter. Until there was a screaming of Anna's name, and then echoing through the halls, "Mama! Papa!"
Self-delusion is a common affliction of royals, and often it is never shaken. No matter how strange and selfish the world they create around them, it is easy to pretend that it's normal - who among their staff would ever say otherwise. So it is easy for a King to be calm and unconcerned about sorcery in his heir that has not been seen for a thousand years, no matter how much the Bishop protested on her birth day.
Yet even among royals, immunity against the harsh reality of the wider world doesn't last forever. For Agdar, it all came crashing down when he saw the tiny lifeless body of his daughter, cradled by the older child, in a wilderness of winter that should never have existed on a late-summer night.
What words were there to say? What was there to do but embrace the madness of ancient legends, once researched with curiosity and now recalled with only suspicion and fear.
"She's ice cold," Idunn whispered, and could have meant either of the girls.
Agdar hardened his heart against it. "I know where we have to take her."
-o-
"I have often asked that question," the troll said after Agdar's answer. His voice sounded harsh, unnatural. Rocks scraping together and barely sounding like words. "Out of habit more than any other reason. There has not been a child born with magic in these lands for hundreds of years."
"But she was," the King said, almost spitting the words. Elsa's tiny hand gripped more tightly to the tail of his coat.
Idunn remembered a child so small, so beautiful, when her magic was just a few snowflakes dancing above her cradle and it was...well, magical. She remembered when they didn't listen to frightened advisors (whether religious or political). Magic had come into the world again, but this was as innocent as could be. Not sorcery, no, just magic. Like the stories. Perhaps they had been too young themselves to know of the full import of such matters. Agdar with his beard still scarce with young manhood, and Idunn herself trailing a couple years behind him.
Young fools with power and pride and the blindness of parenthood.
Now they stood before this creature of the mountain and it was warm here, but Idunn still shivered and clutched Anna to her breast.
"And she cannot reverse it," the troll said again in his eldritch voice. It was not a question.
"I don't know how," Elsa spoke up, trembling but composed - still in shock of what was happening. "It always went away before, when I wasn't even thinking. Only sometimes it didn't...it just melted...later. I thought I could control it enough." Her whole body trembled and Idunn wished her husband would wrap his arm around their girl. This wasn't her fault yet; it was theirs for being complacent.
"I cannot speak too much of mortal magic," the troll declared.
"But my daughter Anna," Agdar said, stiff with impatience. "Elsa cannot undo the hurt. Can you?"
The troll's eyes looked hollow, then, not really like eyes at all. Its words crumbled out like gravel, "It will not be easy to persuade the human mind to release this magic. There are risks. But it is possible."
"Risks?"
The creature sighed like thunder. "It is beyond your mortal knowledge in this age, but I will explain as I can. The magic has struck so that it is tied to her memory - but also to her emotion. They are connected in her mind, in impossibly intricate ways. It may be that I can pull the magic and only the memory with it. If she is lucky, she will forget just a day or two. But I cannot help but pull joy and love as well, for she did not fear the magic before being struck. If she does not already feel deeply, which is not for certain with children so young, that removal may leave a scar. Even a permanent one."
Idunn spoke then, feeling her legs grow weak. "Anna might not...feel?"
The troll shrugged. "You came to me quickly. I doubt the magic has spread so far. And if she is a loving child, the scar may not damage any further growth at all. It will be as if there was no harm. It is a risk, but not a grave one."
King and Queen held a glance.
"Do it," Agdar said.
Even in sleep, Anna flinched when the troll's magic passed through her skull and pulled something white and shiny out. Still clinging to her father, Elsa let out a cry and turned her face into his coat.
"The magic is gone," said the troll at last. Its tone made Idunn shiver. "So far as I can tell. But she must be kept away from it until her mind fully heals."
"She will." Agdar nodded, and laid a hand over Elsa's shoulder.
"As for you, child." The troll stepped forward, creaking, and took Elsa's hand.
She looked so small, so fragile, and yet nothing was that simple. Even Elsa knew that, and stared straight into those horrible hollow eyes.
"Your power will only grow. I cannot teach you how to control it; only you can find the key to mastery. But I can tell you that fear will be your enemy throughout your journey. Magic, being rare, is not fondly regarded. It will be difficult to avoid fear, but it is a necessity, child. Your power has beauty but there is also deadly danger in it."
Elsa did not see it, staring intently at the troll, but Idunn saw Agdar shift as the troll called magic beautiful. His jaw twitched and she wondered where the calm had gone. Where was the man who defied church and country and embraced the legend in his tiny daughter and heir?
Gone, she supposed. Gone with Anna's safety.
Elsa had tears in her eyes, but she nodded politely. "I will learn," she said, a promise, and looked up to father and then mother. There was stubbornness in her, and desperation. And guilt, also, the weight of which made her shoulders sag.
They left the mountains with a warm Anna, and an Elsa who no longer left an ice trail behind them. But even before the palace gates closed behind their horses, Idunn felt the shift in the air. Those youthful happy days were gone, and it would take a good deal of work to bring them back.
"We speak of this to no one," Agdar said, but mostly to Elsa. "Anna is young and will forget, but you cannot let her, Elsa. You'll understand when you're older."
Elsa nodded obediently.
Idunn could see in her eyes, though, that Elsa understood more than she ever should have. She felt her heart crack a little, but she swallowed the lump in her throat and tucked the girls to bed.
-o-
There were no more late-night trips to the secondary ballroom. There were no more snowmen left for Kai to clean up.
-o-
"But I don't remember," Anna kept protesting. This had to be a trick. Maybe they were planning a surprise party and they didn't want her to see, but keeping her in bed was not fair.
"You hurt your head and that's why you can't remember," said Nursie pointedly, giving Anna the teensiest shove back under the covers. "Rest, your highness. Don't want to have another accident."
If this was all for a surprise party then Anna was determined to disapprove on principle. No party was worth this. Unless there was a chocolate cake. Hmm. Well, then she'd be lenient.
She obeyed and stayed in bed a fatiguing amount of minutes - 37 and a half - before sneaking out to find Elsa with the plan of tickling her until she revealed the plot.
Her sister wasn't in all the usual haunts, however, and when Anna did catch sight of her at last, Elsa only gave Anna a sad look and disappeared into her bedroom. She even closed the door. Anna had to swallow a funny feeling in her midsection at that, and trudged back to her room to think about it.
"Did I really hit my head?" she demanded of the servant who came to bring her lunch.
The woman blanched momentarily, then nodded. "Yes, your highness. You fell a long way and the whole house was scared you were going to be badly injured."
Anna deflated at that, for there was no world in which even the servants would tell this kind of cruel story. With that in mind, she used her fingers to probe her scalp and - ouch - there was indeed a sore and swollen spot. It was even visible when she hopped up on the bench and looked at her reflection in the mirror.
And some of her hair was white, in a perfect little stripe. It looked kind of...dashing. But it was opposite to her sore spot so it couldn't be some kind of amazing hair scar. Maybe she'd had more than one injury.
Excited at this notion, she hopped off her bed and ran to Elsa's room. Elsa would know. That must be why she was sad, she'd been worried for Anna. Silly Elsa, really, since Anna was fine now.
Funnily, this time Elsa's door was open. Anna peeked in and was surprised to see her mother sitting on the edge of Elsa's bed. Her frozen bed. Why would Elsa freeze her sheets? Magic wasn't good for things like cloth. Mother must be explaining that to her. Anna listened hard, but silently.
"You need to eat, my dear," Mother said in a soft voice.
"I don't want to. I feel sick."
And sounded it too – Elsa's voice was all sniffly. That explained things, Anna thought, but Mother didn't seem to agree.
"Elsa, everyone knows it was an accident. Even Anna. You don't need to feel badly about it."
Elsa made a choking sound, though, and Anna realized that she had been crying. Elsa, crying. "But I hurt her," she said in a small voice that Anna could barely hear. "Nobody told her that, did they."
Anna blinked. They weren't making sense. What was going on?
"Shh, shh," Mother said and combed her fingers through Elsa's hair. "Sweet child, everything will be all right. You won't do it again. I know you, Elsa. You'll control it better now. We were lucky to have this warning. But if you stay in here and cry all day, nothing will get better."
Had Elsa hurt Anna? How? Anna didn't believe it. Elsa wouldn't. How could she, anyway, unless she'd called Anna a very bad name and Anna couldn't think of a way to accidentally do that. Though she couldn't remember how she'd gotten hurt on the head...
Maybe Elsa had tripped and knocked Anna into a bookshelf or something. She didn't need to cry, though. Anna was fine now. Who cared about a couple lost memories and a sore spot?
Elsa didn't move or say anything for a few seconds, then said in the same sniffly voice. "I'm scared. They said not to be, but I am."
Mother pulled Elsa into her arms then. "I know, my dear. But we will all be fine. Together. You'll feel better if you get up and eat, I promise. Maybe visit Anna and bring her some dessert? It's her favorite tonight."
That only made Elsa cry again, and Anna still didn't know why it was so bad. It was confusing and it made her head hurt a bit.
"Shh, shh, it's all right. It's not so bad that it needs all these tears. Calm down, sweet child."
"I can't."
Now Anna wanted to cry too, for some reason. She gulped down the lump in her throat. Too hard, though - Mother heard and turned her head. A little shake of Mother's head told Anna that she should go, and so she did, running on almost-wobbly feet.
It didn't make sense at all.
Anna went down to supper when called, and expected an explanation, but Elsa wasn't there and no one talked much, to her or anyone.
That night she didn't sleep, but not because of all the fun. It must have been magic, she decided, that hurt her. She probably slipped on Elsa's ice. That would be scary, she admitted, especially for Elsa. She had to be responsible, being the oldest. But Anna was fine now, so Mother was right. It would be okay now.
Finally she could bear it no longer and ran out and down the hall to knock on Elsa's door. Normally she'd just sneak in, but nothing was really normal right now. The knocking sounded hollow and echoed in the hall, which reminded Anna that Elsa usually slept at this time of night. She probably wasn't even awake to answer.
Still, there was a desperate feeling rising up in Anna's chest and she couldn't make herself worry about Elsa's sleep. She knocked again, louder, and added a fourth knock just to be sure.
Surprisingly, the door opened a crack.
"Hi," Anna whispered, hands clasped. She hadn't planned words ahead of time but they came out quickly all the same. "I know you've been sad and I know it's because I got hurt, but I wanted to let you know that it's okay, even if it was your magic. I still love your snow, and you, and I'm feeling a lot better now. Really."
Elsa chewed her lip, eyes shiny and swollen-ish. She didn't look very comforted, or very anything, and that wasn't right. "Anna, we need to be sleeping."
The desperate feeling swelled in Anna's chest, making her ribs hurt in a weird way, and she blurted, "But it's okay! I love you! We can play in the snow and I'll just be really careful and it'll still be fun."
Elsa flinched, her eyes suddenly wide. "No, Anna, no we can't. Not ever."
"Why?" Anna felt like she would explode with this anxious, confused feeling. Or maybe cry, if Elsa didn't stop being so strange, so not-Elsa, because it was getting kind of scary.
"We can't play anymore," Elsa said, all wobbly and too-loud like she was afraid, "not ever, okay, because I could kill you." Then her whole face fell to pieces, the door closed, and Anna heard a muffled sob behind it as if Elsa was in pain.
Killed? It made no sense. Anna had just been a bit hurt, she wasn't going to die, why was everyone so sad when she was fine? Despite all her efforts, hot tears spilled down her cheeks and she pounded on the door. "Elsa, please don't go away. I don't understand, I don't believe you, Elsa. Elsa, Elsa, please..."
She kept knocking at the door and crying frantic tears until her father came and pulled her gently away. "Anna, you should be sleeping."
Anna couldn't stand his calm voice, not now. "But something's wrong with Elsa, something's all wrong! She's not going to kill me, she's not!" Tears were blinding her eyes and her father was a blur.
Even so, she could see that he was sad too, and stern, and all those things that fathers were that made you listen and obey. "I know that, Anna. We'll talk about this after you and Elsa rest, understand?"
"But why?" Anna begged, even as he took her hand and led her to her room.
"We'll talk in the morning," he said firmly, and kissed her forehead. "Your sister's upset right now, and so are you, and talking when you're upset only makes it worse."
Maybe he was right, maybe he was wrong, Anna couldn't think. She could only think of the fear and sadness in Elsa's eyes, and those horribly scary words, and how Elsa had sobbed after she shut the door. Anna just didn't understand why, and now the bump on her head felt sore, so she cried into her pillow until she fell asleep.
She slept so deeply, she didn't even hear Elsa cry out, nor Mother running down the halls to comfort her, whispering over and over, "It's just a nightmare, my dear. Just a nightmare."
-o-
If this was what magic truly was, then it was a curse indeed, Idunn told herself in secret. A week since the incident and the palace still felt like a funeral had taken place. Part of her thought it was too much fuss - the other part felt tendrils of despair wrap around her heart, the same heart that hadn't quite healed from the crack of seeing her daughters so hurt.
The shock had faded, at least. Agdar hadn't shown signs of it but Elsa had truly scared Idunn. For nearly five days she'd alternated from blank expressions to panic and grief and self-loathing. It was simply shock, the doctor told them, and it would pass. But she was so young, so very young, and to be nearly responsible for death was a weight that not even a grown person could carry easily. Idunn barely slept, so she was awake to catch every nightmare and run to cradle Elsa close, ignoring the frozen sheets, frozen floor, frozen fingers gripping Idunn's gown and spreading frost across the fabric.
Anna didn't understand death as easily as Elsa, so it had been easier on her. She had felt Elsa's pain, of course, as sisters did, and cried miserably for days. But it wasn't so serious to her. At least she'd stayed in bed, though, and her head seemed to be mended now. Idunn kept touching her hair, glad that she was warm and no longer like ice (never again, god, please never again) though wondering why the pale stripe hadn't faded. It tugged at her heart even among all her greater worries.
And then there was Agdar, who had buried away all feelings where even Idunn couldn't find them. She knew he must be worried and heartbroken, and unsure about the future. She knew, but he wouldn't talk.
After the first night when Elsa had panicked and half-convinced Anna that she was a murderess, it was clear that they needed to talk about it as a family. Agdar pushed Elsa to explain what happened, correcting her along the way when she made the events sound too severe. He was good with her, Idunn thought. Firm but kind.
Anna accepted it all quite well, smiling at Elsa and then trying to hug her. Elsa cringed, though, and Idunn pulled Anna back.
Then they talked about the new rules.
"Magic isn't a toy," Agdar had told the girls in a low voice. "We all know that now. There's no need to fear it, though, so long as we're all very careful."
Elsa had looked up, then. "Especially me."
"Yes," Agdar said, but gently. "And that will be easier if we keep it a secret."
"Why?" asked Anna.
"Because the less Elsa uses magic, and the less people know about it, there's little chance of further accident. Out of sight, out of mind, out of danger."
Elsa nodded slowly, her hands folded into tight little fists, but Anna said loudly, "But I like her magic. I don't see why we can't play just because of one accident."
"Anna," Agdar rebuked. "You were hurt. You could have been hurt much, much worse, in ways that couldn't be fixed. Like I said, magic is not a toy. We made a mistake in letting you two do so much with it before."
"But…" Anna trailed off, face falling.
"Other people aren't like you, Anna," Idunn put in with a smile, quickly, before it became a battle of wills. "They haven't seen how beautiful Elsa's magic is. They don't understand, and we can't expect them to. No one else has magic like Elsa - they might be scared of her, even if she's very careful. It's safer to keep it secret. And if you two are always playing with magic, someone might see and be scared and cause trouble for our whole family. Do you understand?"
No, she didn't. Anna seemed to think it was all very unfair, considering that they were princesses and that meant people had to listen to what they thought. That particular comment led to an entire lecture from Agdar about responsibility and obligation, accompanied by his furrowed brow and stern glance. Throughout, Idunn couldn't help but notice Elsa shrinking away, drawing into herself until it was as if she was no longer there.
Finally Anna accepted the new rules.
"It's for the best," Agdar said at last, and smiled. It didn't quite reach his eyes, but Idunn could see that he was trying.
The girls nodded and Anna again attempted a sisterly hug. This time Elsa didn't push her away, but her eyes widened in near-panic all the same and she didn't fully return it. Idunn's heart cracked a little more.
All that had taken place days ago, however, and yet no one was happy again. Anna tried her best, being so cheery that Idunn was fully reassured that no harm had been done to her ability to feel. Elsa and Agdar, though, seemed caught in a cycle of brooding that did none of them good. It was all over, after all. Frightening, but over.
When it snowed in Arendelle at last, after a long rainy autumn, Idunn told Anna to get her sister and go play. "Make snowmen without magic," she encouraged. "There's enough snow for a dozen at least."
Only a half hour later she was pleased to hear laughter. From both girls. Idunn watched the gleeful play from the window and allowed herself a small smile. Elsa seemed to have no problems of control when she was occupied and happy, and that was a very, very good portent.
Elsa and Anna came in that evening red-faced and giggling, and even Agdar's comments about tracking snow through the halls did not break their cheery moment. They looked so bright and beautiful as they sipped hot chocolate and talked about names for their army of snowmen.
Yet Idunn hoped too much too soon. The next morning Anna woke late, still red-faced but now due to a fever. "Too much play in the cold," the doctor pronounced, "it's nothing."
Anna grumbled to everyone who would listen about the unfairness of being sick, especially when the doctor said that she could eat no chocolate until she got well, but she was too sick to disobey any orders. Elsa seemed to think it was her fault, for keeping Anna too long in the snowy courtyard, and Idunn could not bear to see her like that again. She all but ordered Elsa to sit by Anna's bed and read books to her, hoping it would distract them both.
It did, and they both ate a supper of broth together in peace.
Idunn went to kiss Anna goodnight and found her forehead chill, which she took to mean that the fever would be breaking soon. Elsa had fallen asleep with her face in a book, leaned against the side of the bed with her left hand gripping Anna's right. Idunn didn't have the heart to separate them. She kissed Elsa's head too and then left for her own chamber.
Only a few hours later came Elsa's terrified cries of "Mama! Papa!"
The world crashed around her, ripping open the not-quite-healed memories. Idunn ran, heart in her throat, Agdar at her side, fear like a dark monster at her heels. It was too soon for this, too soon.
In Anna's room, Elsa clung to Anna's hand with both of hers, her whole body shaking and the floor slick with ice. "Anna's too hot," she said desperately when King and Queen came in. "She's too hot but her head is so cold." Then a broken whisper, "I think she's freezing again."
Idunn wanted this to be a nightmare, something to be soothed away by simply waking up. But once touch of Anna's forehead and one look at her whitening hair, and she knew she was fully awake.
Agdar breathed in sharply as he lifted Anna into his arms, confirming the malady as being far more than a normal illness. Beside him, hands tucked beneath her armpits, Elsa trembled with fear. For a moment no one moved, as if taking the first step would be signing their doom.
"We have to take her back to the trolls," Idunn finally said. The last bit of hope was gone from her voice - her heart cracked just a bit further.