Hans didn't try to include me in the affairs of the kingdom anymore. He didn't explain what he was doing, or why.
He didn't look at me with love in his eyes anymore, with that crinkle he got between his brows. He didn't smile at me like he was happy to see me. He didn't wait for me at meals, didn't hold my hand as we walked, didn't rest his hand on my lower back like he used to.
Hans had always been my world, once we met and married. He had been my savior, my love, my hope- my best friend.
I had always felt so alone. My parents, much as they tried, were too busy with their responsibilities for the kingdom and with whatever had been going on with Elsa (which I now knew). And Elsa, of course, had barely acknowledged me after she had been locked away at 8 years old.
But when Hans came into my life it was like I had found the light once again. I had found hope; a reason to keep going, to keep living.
And now that light was snuffed out.
Now, I was stuck with two parents buried deep in a grave, a husband who looked at me like I was nothing but a naïve child, and a sister who was so disturbed that she thought I was dead. I was, essentially, alone.
After I had broken the news of our parents' deaths to Elsa, my sister's mental condition deteriorated even further.
Whatever meager hold she had had on her powers – enough to hide them from me for twenty-two years – had seemed to crumble with my confession regarding our parents. There was a persistent chill suffusing the residential wing that no amount of fires in the hearths seemed to improve. Harsh gusts of wind were constantly whining in her bedroom and ice began to seep out from the gap of her doorway like a spreading disease.
The first few days after I told Elsa, she alternated sobbing with snowing for hours on end, her voice raw but matching in pitch with the gusts of wind swirling inside.
"I can't take this anymore," Hans cried angrily one evening, standing up from the desk that had been passed down from king to king throughout all generations of Arendelle monarchy. "She's gotten too unstable, and that curse of hers is getting dangerous and out of hand."
"No, Hans!" I cried, getting up from my book to chase after him. I grabbed his arm, pulling him back.
"No, please!" He shook me off, glaring. "Leave her be. Please. She's just hurting."
"She's not hurting, Anna," he growled. "She's insane."
"She doesn't know how to deal with the loss," I fought back, tears in my eyes. "Let me go to her, I'll keep her quiet, I swear."
"Fine," Hans relented, looking cross and annoyed. "See to it that you do. Or else I'll have her taken care of myself."
"What do you mean, taken care of?" His tone scared me.
"I have my ways," he said.
I went to Elsa frequently those days to attempt to calm her down.
It was getting difficult, though. I couldn't stay with her long; the raging storm inside her bedroom had me shivering in minutes and fearing frostbite not much longer after that.
"Elsa!" I would call to her, reaching out to stroke her trembling form. "Stop this, Elsa! You're okay, you didn't hurt anyone!"
But she always shied away from me. That is, if she even seemed to notice me there at all. She'd often be crouched on the floor, or on her knees, her gloved hands covering her ears as she shook her head to rid herself of the voices calling her from within.
Once, I had found her with her gloves off. I could hardly believe it- I didn't think they had been off in years. But after getting over my shock at seeing the bare skin of her hands, I noticed the red streaks of blood along both arms where her fingernails had left scratch marks so deep in her skin that she bled.
I knew my meager pleas to my husband could only last for so long, however.
"That's it," Hans clenched his jaw, throwing back the covers and storming out of bed after being woken up by Elsa for the third time that week. Once it had been from her yelling, but this time it was because it had begun to snow all the way in our bedroom, piled up in clumps on the bedspread. "I've had enough."
"Hans, no!" I leapt out to follow him, brushing the sleep out of my eyes, but he shoved me back hard enough to bruise and pushed the door behind him, slamming it in my face.
That was the problem with having a husband when you were queen, you see- despite my power as a ruler of Arendelle, I wasn't the ruler- my husband, the King, would always outrank me. It was always his word against mine.
And that was why I was left struggling against the guards that Hans had ordered to restrain me outside of our bedroom. That was why I fought so hard my wrists chafed from their strong grip. That was why I screamed so long and hard my throat was raw.
That was why I had no option but to watch as my sister was led away from her bedroom by a retinue of armed guards, looking forlorn and guilty but cooperative, as if she thought she deserved such punishment. That was why I saw that she had been chained - heavy-looking cuffs that encompassed her hands and wrists entirely. That was why I watched as she was pulled along, stumbling, to the corridor that led to one place only:
The dungeons.
For the first two weeks I tried desperately to get Hans to change his mind.
"Give me more time with her," I pleaded. "I'll make her understand. Just please, please, don't lock her up in there." I felt like I had betrayed my sister. Elsa was the only family I had left, no matter how damaged she was- and I had failed her.
But Hans' word as King was law- and he wouldn't budge. "There's no hope for her, Anna," he brushed me off angrily, tiredly. "This is to keep us all safe."
"But there is hope!" I insisted. "She just needs some love. Someone to care for her after so many years. Human, social interaction – that's what she needs!"
Hans sneered at me, a look I was becoming more familiar with by the day. "Hope is what drove your sister mad, Anna. Hope is all she ever had to live for. And when she finally realized there was no hope anymore, she became the monster she is today."
It became a sort of unspoken agreement between me and my husband- Hans would overlook my visits to Elsa if I didn't speak of her to him, as if she weren't even in the castle anymore.
I'd go as often as I could, but it was hard- the guards were under orders that no one but the King was to visit her, and I had to learn the hard way which guards would permit me to visit despite their orders, and I would have to be out by the time their shift ended.
I'd carefully pick my way down the steep stone steps leading down to the dungeons, my arms loaded with stacks of books. It was the only thing I could give Elsa to help keep her occupied- and with her hands covered wrist-deep in those wretched cuffs, she had no choice but to turn the pages with her feet when I wasn't there to read to her. But she was always so happy, so grateful- I'm not sure if it was seeing me or seeing me with my arms laden with books that did it, but it was the only time my sister's eyes lit up anymore- the only time I saw her look somewhat like her former self.
Despite the cuffs that she wore, after she had been moved to the dungeons, the ice had seemed to constantly leak out of Elsa- her powers, though weakened from the constraints, were not withheld entirely by the metal.
I wasn't quite sure how Elsa had managed to hide the ice and snow from me and nearly everyone for so long, for now it was her eternal companion. There was a constant scrim of ice on the floor and vines of it snaking up the walls. About two weeks into her confinement, Elsa had had a magical outburst that decimated one of the stone walls of her cell, even cracking the glass window and leaving shards of glass that cut her bare feet and bled.
Hans had ordered a new cell built for her after that- but this time, with stronger, reinforced walls and only a porthole to see outside with glass so thick it was blurry and distorted.
Seeing the damage her powers had wrought to her first stronghold, I had to admit that Hans perhaps had been right- the bedroom in the residency wing wouldn't be safe for Elsa or for any of us- her powers were too dangerous.
I had very nearly wanted to strike myself for even harboring such an awful thought- how dare I think my sister, with such a magical burden, ought to be contained like an animal? How could I actually agree with my parents and Hans on such a thing? But those times when I left Elsa's cell, shivering violently and rubbing feeling back into my fingertips, I had to admit they had a point.
If only there had been some other way.
But despite the danger, I remained by Elsa's side. Because of the handcuffs, the guards had to feed Elsa- Hans had long ago decreed that the cuffs were never to come off my sister's hands without his express permission. They had her sip water from a cup, fed her bread and cheese, and occasionally some fish or fruit if she had a guard on duty who remembered her as a carefree, happy child. Whenever I could manage to sneak some, I'd bring her chocolate- rich, luscious truffles or small bites of cake or pastries I snuck into my napkin at dinner. Chocolate still remained her favorite- that was a part of Elsa her condition could never take away. Our love for chocolate was still something that brought us together. Sitting on the hard bench with her in her cell, our eyes closed in rapture over the decadent silken taste coating our tongues, it was like we had retuned back to childhood, sneaking sweets into the pantry and savoring them while no one was looking.
The familiarity of it seemed to calm her- enough so that she would sit peacefully, leaning against me, so that I could wash her hair- still as long and beautiful as ever, perhaps looking even lighter in color now- without her freezing the water. She would hum as I moved my fingers through the strands, untangling them. I cherished those moments so much; the world fell away around us, the cold, hard brick walls of her cell disappearing until it was simply a moment of two sisters relaxing and caring for each other.
Besides looking out for Elsa's rare bits of enjoyment, I tried my best to keep tabs on who cared for her- and those who didn't, despite their responsibilities. I discovered one heartless guard that had been sliding my sister's tray of food into her cell, just out of reach to tempt and tease her.
Some days, I couldn't stay with Elsa for long- the room grew too cold, the ice spiked dangerously, or Elsa herself wasn't in a state of mind to see me. Some days she'd rain down apologies for her supposed 'murderous transgressions,' others she ignored me, slumped against the wall, while at other times she yelled, cried or lashed out as if she didn't even recognize me, her chains clinking as she lunged. Those days hurt the most, and it took me days to work up the courage again to return to her.
But "she's always calmer after you visit," the nicer guards would tell me. "That's what we see a glimpse of the young woman she used to be."
Gerda, god bless her, was my only pillar of support those days. Elsa and I were like daughters to her, especially after our parents had died- and now one of her daughters she was forbidden to see.
"How is she?!" Gerda would ask me hungrily, desperate for word on Elsa and her wellbeing. "Is she alright? They're treating her well, despite her captivity, are they not?"
Her eyes were anxious- for knowledge, possibly, but most likely for reassurance that her precious girl, driven mad behind walls, was faring well despite the odds.
Unable to fully care for my sister in the capacity I wished, the least I could do was soothe Gerda's fears.
"She's doing well," I life, a practiced smile playing upon my lips. "She's"-chained to the wall- "comfortable," and" –they're not feeding her enough- "and she loves the chocolates you gave me for her; she says thank you." Gerda's brow relaxed, her shoulders easing and breath escaping in a relieved sigh. It scared me how easily the lies came.
Over time Elsa seemed to settle in to her life down below, peppered with my visits. She grew quiet and withdrawn, though she still suffered episodes of visions, and ice storms raged in her cell and soul.
Me, I never came to terms with what life had wrought upon us. To think that this was the life my sister and I lived now, so different from the happy, carefree life we had known and expected as innocent children. What would my parents, god rest their souls, think? Did they watch us from above? Did they see their eldest, chained and contained, ranting and cold, desperate for companionship? Did they see me, their youngest, now turn hardened and bitter, stuck in a loveless marriage and desperate for love?
For I was desperate. My sister may have been alone in the dungeons and her mind, but I was alone as well in the world with no one to turn to. So desperate, in fact, that I still sought bodily release with Hans. His hands along my bare back, fingers grasping my hips, teeth raking across my lips hungrily, a forceful fuck in the dark of night- I craved touch, the be wanted, needed – to escape this life that I was stuck in.
I was thirty when I learned I was carrying Hans' and my child.
My pregnancy was both a blessing and a curse
While since Elsa's imprisonment Hans had grown to scorn my very presence, suddenly I was a delicate flower and my husband became a doting gentleman, catering to my every whim and leaving me wanting for nothing. He tenderly massaged my sore back and caressed my tired and swollen feet, called for tea when I fell ill in the mornings, and wouldn't let me lift a finger. He became once more the man I had first fallen in love with and married.
I should have pushed him away, knowing the wolf in sheep's clothing that lie inside. But I was lonely, and hurting, and scared of this thing growing inside of me- scared of the world this life growing in me would be brought into – so I accepted his care and ministrations, savoring the feeling of being loved for the time I knew would come when it disappeared once more.
The curse, however, was that I could no longer visit my sister.
"These secret visits can't go on anymore, Anna," Hans lectured me immediately after finding out I was with child. "I allowed it before, but you can't be selfish anymore. You will not put my child's life in danger."
Our child, I bit back in my head, not my, but I fell silent, and nodded, because he was right. I couldn't risk one of Elsa's magical outbursts, couldn't chance slipping on her ice or getting stuck by a sharp stalagmite. I longed to see my sister, but Hans promised me he would see to it that she was well cared for in my absence. He had lied before, I know – but my hands were tied as much as Elsa's.
My pregnancy brought pleasure back into the household, something that hadn't been felt in the castle for ages. A baby would mean hope, would mean joy – and we all eagerly awaited the birth of my child.
That winter, on a dreadfully cold and weary day, rain pounding down on the roof and windows, our son was born. With a shock of blonde hair nearly white and startlingly blue eyes, he had the staff whispering over his appearance. I loved him all the more for his familiar looks, and he captured everyone's heart – the future king of Arendelle.
He was a lovely child, our son. Not too fussy, he slept easily, fed well, and, after only a few short months, was full of smiles and laughter. He once more brought light into my life and even Hans was better – he wasn't as quick to scold me and he seemed to take his role as father very seriously.
Likewise, I was eager to return to my role as a sister. I hadn't seen Elsa in over nine months, and I hoped that she was alright in my absence. I had written her letters, so she would know why I had suddenly left her. I was afraid she would react as she did when our parents passed away, thinking I had gone down that same path. I had been afraid of what may have happened to her down there, and my heart had ached every day in fear of the unknown. I had worried if she was being fed, if someone brought her new books. I worried if she was seeing things again, and if the ice grew thicker along the walls of her cell.
Nearly running down the dungeon steps in my haste to see my sister, I stumbled and fell when I saw her, my heart falling to my knees as I shook with rage.
Hans had lied. Again.
Elsa lay on the small cot in her cell, her arms with the ever-present manacles clasped around her thin frame. I had to watch for the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed; otherwise I would've thought her dead.
She was so thin it broke my heart. How often had someone actually fed her?
I rushed into her cell, not even giving thought to the potential danger as I gathered her slight form into my arms.
"Elsa?" She didn't stir, so I gave her a small shake, desperate. "Elsa!"
She stirred, blinking her eyes open slowly, taking some time for her gaze to find and meet mine.
"An-Anna?" The relief and love in her eyes melted my heart. She started to cry softly, tears slowly leaking as she shuddered with her silent cry. "You came back."
"Oh, Elsa," I sighed, stroking her hair as I held her to me. "I'm so sorry, Elsa. I'm so sorry." Her hair was tangled in knots from the lack of care and it seemed even lighter than I remembered. I cupped her cheek with a palm, my breath catching as my fingers grazed over an old, faded bruise on her cheek. "I'll never let you be treated this way again."
As soon as we were alone together in our bedroom that night, I punched Hans.
He never saw it coming. It was a good one too – the buildup of all my rage and agony over these past few years, my disdain for him slowly growing like a tumor. Over how he treated me, over how self-absorbed he had become, and over how he treated Elsa.
Unfortunately, my husband wasn't one to simply take a hit.
"What the fuck, Anna!" He cried, stumbling back, one hand pressed over his bleeding and probably broken nose.
I never saw his strike coming, either. CRACK! I staggered backwards, whimpering and feeling like my cheek bones had just shattered. "What's wrong with you, Anna?!" Hans shouted. "Is this the kind of marriage you want our son to see?"
I didn't take his bait. "You lied, Hans," I seethed. "You haven't looked out for Elsa at all." My rage returned, white-hot and blinding so that I couldn't even register my smarting cheek anymore. "She's practically dead, Hans. Have they even fed her at all? Helped her to wash? And why the fuck does she have bruises?! Is your idea of 'looking out for her' letting your men hit her?!" I caught my breath. "You know, I guess I shouldn't be surprised. What's so wrong with beating your prisoner when you're already hitting your wife?!"
"Don't you dare, Anna!" Hans raged at me. How dare you accuse me – you don't understand anything. And if you'll remember, it was you who struck me first!" He stalked towards me. "What you fail to realize, Anna, is how dangerous Elsa is."
Hans' green eyes gleamed emerald. "Elsa was getting out of control." He dropped his eyes, as if remembering something painful. "Her ice storms were becoming more frequent. A flying icicle nearly took a guard's eye out." He stood straighter, fixing me with an accusatory glare. "It was getting too dangerous for the men to enter her cell, Anna. We had no choice – we figured out that if she's weak, it weakens her powers. If her body's weak enough she doesn't seem to have the energy to make ice. It's better for her this way."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Better for her? More like better for you." I blinked back the tears forming my eyes over what Hans had done to my sister. "She's dying, Hans. Weakening her? You're starving her. You said you would take care of her for me."
Hans grinned at me, baring his teeth. "And I did."
Over the next few weeks, I visited Elsa every day, nursing her back to health. I fed her all the sweets I could find in the kitchens, I washed and combed her hair and rubbed salve on the wounds I didn't want to think about. But no matter what I did, Elsa stayed quiet. She didn't show signs of seeing visions anymore, didn't have fits of ice, didn't apologize for killing anyone. She worried me, but she seemed calm and in a better condition, so I was relieved. She would sit with me as I read to her, resting her head on my shoulder – her version of a hug while her hands were chained.
My son steadily grew, becoming a happy, babbling baby and eventually toddler that continued to bring life and joy to our bleak household. I longed for the day when he would grow into an intelligent, gracious, caring young prince – I vowed to myself I wouldn't allow him to become a power-hungry devil like his father. I loved my son more than anything in this world. His features, a striking reflection of his aunt that he would never know, reminded me of the cheerful little girl that could've been, now locked away in the dungeons below.
It was perhaps a month after Elsa's full recovery when a guard ran out to me while I played with my son in the snow. That was when I was happiest – throwing snowballs, making snow angels – like I used to do with my sister many memories ago.
"Your majesty!" He cried. "Come quickly!" I left my son in his nurse's care and followed the guard down into the dungeons, my heart beating faster and my limbs growing colder with each step, though I couldn't be sure if it were from the actual temperature or my trepidation. I rushed into Elsa's cell, expecting to see it entirely covered in ice and snow. But it wasn't. Not a single snowflake. I ran to my sister's side, confused. She lay curled in a ball in the corner.
"Elsa?" I asked. I turned to the guard, confused. "What's going o-" But then I saw it. I hadn't caught it at first in the dim light. But now I couldn't unsee it.
A line of blood, trailing across the middle of the cell, ending in a pool by Elsa. Under Elsa.
"Elsa!?" I grabbed her shoulders, turning her around to face me. She blinked her eyes slowly, her gaze finally finding mine.
"Anna?" She asked sleepily. I whirled to the guard.
"What happened!?" Which one of you hurt her!?"
"None of us, Your Majesty," he answered frantically. "Clearly she did this to herself."
"That's not possible!" I yelled, rounding on him. "She's chained up, she can't even use her hands, how could you accuse-" but then I stopped. Because a glimmer had caught my eye. And that glimmer was sparkling, like a crystal, like a diamond, like – like ice.
A thin, fine point, tapered like a needle on the end, growing wider along the base which I could see. Protruding from my sister's chest, blood dripping down her front.
"Elsa!" I screamed, dropping to my knees. I gathered her back into my arms. "Elsa, no, no! Please!" I felt frozen, my heart aching like the icicle was embedded in my chest and not hers. "Elsa, no!" I brought her head to my chest, my tears dripping into her hair. She was so cold.
"I'm sorry Anna," Elsa said. Her eyes dripped tears as well, for once not freezing on her cheeks. She looked directly into my eyes, her gaze sorrowful but more lucid than I had seen her in forever. "I love you Anna. And-" she coughed wetly, blood filling her lungs and spotting up onto the floor. "-And I always wanted to build a snowman with you."
Her eyes closed, her breath rattling as she took her last breath gathered in my arms. The icicle melted, dripping down her chest, the cell growing warmer as her powers died with her. I stayed there, sobbing, cradling my sister – my sister, who was so loved yet also feared by those who loved her most – my parents. My sister, who was kept locked away and eventually kept herself locked away only for the protection of others. My sister, who had grown isolated and lonely, and eventually unstable and confused due to her confinement. My poor sister, who had endured her whole life, eventually here in this cold and dark dungeon cell of a hell hole for so long.
I had to be dragged away hours later, they told me. I don't remember. I do know that my husband never even came to see me that night.
All I know of that night is that I was awoken to a light tapping at my door. I blinked wearily, unsure if I was even in the land of the living or still asleep. The knob turned, and my son came padding in, eyes wide and hopeful.
"Mama?" He asked. He turned his gaze to the window, and I did the same. Snow had begun to fall again – big, fat clumps of snowflakes twirling lazily in the moonlight. It was beautiful.
My son reached for my hand, his little fingers wrapped in mine, soft and warm.
"Do you want to build a snowman?"
I would really love love love to hear from anyone that reads this - criticism accepted too! To be perfectly honest, as I said above I myself am not even super happy with this one. I think this is one of the least elegant pieces I've written and I struggled so hard with this one. Maybe also because it's from Anna's POV? Maybe I was too harsh in some spots as well. This could've gone SO many ways so I kinda just had to pick a path and stick with it in the end.
Basically, there was no hope for Elsa. She's too good to try to kill someone and even if she wanted to probably wouldn't have had the means with her powers weakened. This was the only way out for her.
As for Anna's son…what do you think will happen? ;)
Guest named cotton, thanks so much for your last comment- that was so sweet of you!
Thanks so much to all of you who have reviewed- your words mean soooo much to me and keep me writing! If you're reading but not reviewing I really encourage you to do so - the more you review (criticism is welcome too!) the more I write!