Maybe today, Andy thought eagerly as he rushed down the hall, maybe.

He stopped in his tracks in front of the large white oak door, which had now been painted and decorated with little snowflake carvings. Had this been Elliott's doing?

Probably, Andy thought as he knocked quickly three times- his signature knock, what else would he be doing all day.

"Elliott!" he called, pointing at the window that showed the falling snowflakes even though his brother couldn't see, "come on, it's snowing, let's go and play!"

He waited two heartbeats, but the heir to Arendelle was silent. Like he always was. Andy pouted, peeking under the door, checking to see if Elliott was standing right there and was just messing with him. But he wasn't.

"Let's build a snowman, let's build General Winter!" Andy decided to bring out his secret weapon. From his pockets, he took out a handful of snow he'd got from the courtyard, most of it had melted, but it would do. He shoved it under the door, "look, Elliott!"

He waited, but all he got in return was silence.

"I never see you anymore, not like before. I wish you would tell me why..." Andy knocked again, more times, more insistently, "it's like you've gone away! Come out!"

He peeked through the keyhole, "Do you wanna build a snowman?"

When nothing happened, he pressed his lips against the keyhole and said in General Winter's voice, "It doesn't have to be a snowman..."

His spirits both lifted and crashed back down when Elliott's voice called back, "Leave me alone, Andy."

Heartbroken, Andy slipped his cold hands inside the wet pockets thanks to the snow. He walked down the hall, head down.

• • •

Elliott watched longingly out the window at the courtyard, as Andy rolled another snowball into shape. His freckled cheeks were flushed, and his hair was tucked inside an earflap winter cap. Elliott cringed at the white streak of hair poking out- the streak of hair he'd caused. His mother, the Queen, sat nearby with a book on her lap.

He pressed a hand against the window, desperately trying to reach out, because shutting his brother out was killing him slowly. A flurry of snow descended to where Andy was, and while his back was turned, the chest of the General Winter he was building got decorated with intricate medals.

From his spot in the windowsill Elliott watched happily as his brother's face turned to one of delight upon seeing the addition.

"Mama, look!" he heard Andy say. But his heart sank when the Queen looked up and glared at Elliott.

He doesn't know you have powers. Stop, her expression clearly read. Scared, Elliott pushed himself way from the window, his icy hands accidentally frosting it over.

Later that day, the Queen probably told her husband what had happened, because he came by Elliott's room and handed him some nice leather gloves.

"The gloves will help," his father told him confidently, "See? It'll be alright."

He patted Elliott's gloved hand and looked him in the eyes, "Conceal it."

"Don't feel it..." Elliott halfheartedly continued the mantra his father had started drilling into his head.

"Don't let it show," they said together. The King grinned, but Elliott just felt empty.

• • •

"Do you want to build a snowman?" 9-year-old Andy asked, knocking on the door three times, like he always did. "Or, maybe not a snowman? We can try out the bikes Ser Greene gave us? Yours is still all wrapped up, Elliott!"

Andy pressed his ear against the door, but all he heard was the quiet scratching of pencil on paper. Did Elliott spend all his time studying? What a drag.

"Come out, darling brother. It's a little lonely out here," Andy tried, "Some company is overdue, I've started talking to the furniture!" he saluted the bust of a man made in marble near Elliott's door, "hang in there, Caesar!"

When, unsurprisingly, he got no reply, he sulked away to the big grandfather clock at the end of the hall. His eyes followed the swinging pendulum, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock.

• • •

"It's getting stronger!" Elliott wanted to scream, but all that came out was a frustrated whisper. The entire wall behind him had frozen over, after he took off the gloves to show his parents how the control over his powers was doing now that he was 12.

"Calm down, son. You know it only gets worse when you get upset," the King said gently, spreading his arms to pull Elliott into a hug.

"No! Stop. Don't- don't touch me," Elliott jerked back, hiding his hands behind his back. His parents exchanged an alarmed look. "I... I don't want to hurt you," he said in a tiny voice.

"Elliott..." the Queen's heartbroken eyes dug into Elliott like a blade.

• • •

Andy ran down the hall to his parent's quarters, passing without stopping by the snowflake-carved door. He barged in just in time to give his mother a big hug, "See you in two weeks!"

The King shut the final suitcase, "Behave, Andy. I don't want more notices about the prince breaking-and-entering forbidden areas. That's why they're forbidden."

The now teenager Andy laughed good-naturedly, "Don't worry, Papa. Have fun at the wedding in Corona for me, hm?"

The three of them chuckled and shared a nice embrace.

• • •

Elliott, looking more and more like a fine young man every day, bowed low and formally at his parents, not touching them.

"Do you have to go?" he murmured sullenly, thinking about 2 weeks without either of his parents to run the kingdom and only with him in charge sounded like a nightmare. Too bad that was his birthright.

"You'll be fine, Elliott," the King smiled confidently, his arms twitched as he probably decided against a hugging his son. Elliott would pull away anyway.

The stormy blue eyes showed less and less emotion every day. "See you soon," Elliott stood to his full height, almost as tall as his father now.

• • •

"A terrible accident... Ship got caught in the middle of a storm..."

"Is Prince Elliott around? I'd like to give my condolences..."

"I am so sorry, Andy, they were fantastic people, your parents..."

"Now to wait until the prince becomes of age..."

"Have courage, Anders."

Andy thought that getting away from the crowd of mourning people would ease the pain in his chest, but arriving to the empty castle only made him feel worse. He appreciated their words, but after such loss, he doubted anyone felt the way he did... well, maybe except for one person.

Maybe, Andy sighed in front of the great oak door he'd spent countless hours of his childhood trying to break into. Trying to get his only brother to come out. The castle was darker and for some reason colder than ever, and on the way in he'd had to bear the sight of a servant covering the great painting of his parents in a black mourning cloth.

He gathered his courage and placed his palm against the door.

"Elliott, please. I know you're in there. People are asking where you've been," Andy bit the inside of his cheek, remembering himself standing between the two burial stones alone with the priest. "They tell me to have courage, and... I'm trying to, Elliott. I really am..." he knocked slowly, tiredly, three times.

"I'm right out here for you," Andy ground out, his shoulders starting to shake. He kicked the door with the point of his black boot, once, twice, three times. And then he did something he had never done before, "Elliott. Please let me in."

For years he'd asked Elliott to come out, and for the first time he was asking to be let in. Gritting his teeth, he slid back against the door, his head resting against it.

"You're all I have left, just... just listen to me," he slammed his elbow against the door, the tears now falling freely. "I don't know what to do..." he sobbed weakly, "what are we gonna do?"

He kept hitting the door with his elbow until it throbbed so bad he had to stop. And he sat there, his back against the door, grieving by himself.

"Do you want to build a snowman..." Andy didn't even have the energy to raise his voice at the end of the question. He figured he was pretty much talking to himself, alone, like it had felt for most of his life.

• • •

Every time Andy's elbow made contact with the door, Elliott felt it to his core. His pose was mirroring his brother's, sitting against the door, just from the other side. Every time the door shook with the force of Andy's pent up grief, Elliott pretended all of them were meant for him.

I'm sorry, didn't cut it, not by a long shot, but what else did Elliott have to offer? He hesitated. He should let Andy in. They only had each other.

He looked up, and quickly decided against that idea. His bedroom was frozen with ice, snowflakes hung in the air, suspended by grief. It was like time had stopped, and for Elliott, it sort of had. He clenched and unclenched his jaw so hard it hurt. Andy's nonstop banging on the door just added to his sorrow.

What had been his last words to his parents?

Not I love you, he thought, hugging his legs closer and burrowing his face in his knees. He hadn't even hugged them. And to make matters worse, he didn't trust himself to go out in public. Look what he'd done to his bedroom, gloves and all. The funeral would have overwhelmed him so much, he probably would've set off a raging blizzard right there and then. Under other circumstances, Andy would have loved it, diving into the snow and asking Elliott to join him. The thought almost made him smile, but then the banging against his door stopped.

"Do you want to build a snowman..."

As the quiet words reached his ears through the door, Elliott broke down.

For now I'm heavily leaning on the Frozen script and using some of the translations from the spanish version of the movie which i think worked well, and also the transition from song to story went kinda alright? anyway, the differences will start showing soon, I may just take the path disney decided not to take to make 'elsa' the villian ;) but who knows.

+ also to the person that sent me a message on tumblr, thank you for the suggestion! but it's too late to change the names now, srry elliott isn't really a scandinavian name but at least anders is i think. anyway hope u enjoyed, feedback is appreciated!