The falling took hours. Even if it happened in just a few heartbeats.
Anna might have been the one who fell cold and still to the floor but the world froze around Elsa that night, too. There are no altered memories for her, every awful moment is seared onto her brain and the trolls' chilling vision dances in streaks of bloody red across her mind.
They came up with a story, of course, but long after Elsa had "recovered" from her "illness", they never moved her back into Anna's room. Between facing Anna's innocent hurt and the lonely voiceless walls of her room, Elsa knew there were some things she would never recover from. Not really.
Their separation was almost absolute and it tore Elsa asunder. Half the world was missing, half of herself. The only thing worse than being alone was when she forgot. She'd swivel around, mouth open, eyes lit up, ready to tell Anna something only to remember halfway. She missed her best friend.
The only time they saw each other was at dinner. Ever the formal event, the entire family was expected to be present (unless there were pressing matters of state for her father to attend to, but the instances were rare) and despite recent circumstances, Elsa was no exception.
Anna's stares burned and Elsa could feel her questions and hurt press against her face and she blistered beneath them.
Sometimes silence reigned, stretching in-between Anna's stories, and it was deafening. Swallows seemed loud, water tinkled in the glass, and silverware clanged against the plates. Elsa dully pushed her food around, taking minuscule bites of things she didn't taste.
But most of the time, Anna would ramble about her day with their parents smiling and asking polite questions about their studies. Elsa would speak as few words as possible, certain that if she didn't, everything would tumble out and she'd never stop. A quick glance at her sister would flood her with shame, and it was enough to keep her promise. It never stopped Anna, though.
Dinner had started out innocuously enough one midwinter evening, until-
"Last night I had a dream about trolls!"
It was all she could do to not drop her fork with a clatter on the plate, but Elsa's hand was shaking and suddenly there was no air and her head was spinning and why was the table so far away?
"Did you now?" her father said lightly, glancing at her mother, but Elsa could hear the unease behind it. Danger suddenly hovered in the thin air above the table and it was all her fault.
Heart still pounding, Elsa grasped onto the voice and used it to pull herself back. Anna continued on in a different direction, growing bored of trolls at the lack of interest her parents seemed to show. But Elsa knew and her heart still pounded.
Later, in the middle of her barrage of questions came, "Elsa, is it really cold where you're sitting because wow, look at your glass!" Elsa turns in horror to see the rim frosted over. Fear flames, licking at her heart, and Elsa cannot push herself away from the table fast enough.
"Excuse me," she manages to stutter in some semblance of a calm voice, "I'm really not feeling well, may I please be excused?"
Though the worry on her parents' faces is palpable, they nod their assent and her mother reaches out with one arm to brush comfortingly against Elsa as she leaves. She tries not to flinch. Anna's disappointed, her father's lips are tight, her mother is heartbroken and Elsa is crushed under the weight of them all.
"Thank you," she whispers, hugging herself. Hands locked onto her elbows seems like the safest position because no one can touch her and she can't freeze anything that way, at least not herself, but parts of her are always cold these days anyway.
She doesn't come to dinner anymore after that.
Reminders of what she'd done were everywhere; they were a part of her. She couldn't stand the sight of her bare hands anymore.
They'd sent Gerda and the other nursemaids away in favor of her mother bathing her. After the servants had set up the bath, they'd be quietly dismissed and her mother would hum under her breath while scrubbing Elsa's hair or tell stories from around the castle. But any time she mentioned Anna, Elsa's heart would seize with guilt and frozen lillypads would crest atop the water. Bubbles would ice over and Elsa would be left shivering in the water, apologizing even as the Queen hushed her gently, draped warm towels around her shoulders and squeezed reassuringly, as if Elsa were a normal thing.
They brought back Gerda after that.
Instead, Elsa and her mother met over needlepoint and court lessons.
She'd still hum and talk, but from the safety of the gloves, Elsa could at least bear to hear the stories; they pricked, but she felt it dully, numbed beneath her gloves.
Sometimes she missed feeling things, but the lines blur between 'too much' and 'not enough' and since Elsa's never been good with moderation, 'don't feel' is something she decides is better to live with. Her hands itch when the gloves aren't on and deep down they sometimes feel like the only things that can save her.