Her own storm, eventually, ended. And it was a tsunami of cheering that erupted as the contestant put the arrow straight through the bullseye.
As part of the Winter Paegent, it'd become tradition to hold several contests, free for any man in Arendelle to enter. Today was the archery. Elsa sat in the wooden stands erected in the town square. Franz sat her right. The seat to her left was empty.
As she thought it would be. Though gazing at her sister's empty seat, she felt a pang of longing. Did she have to say what she'd said? Had there been another way?
"What do you think of that, Elsa?" Franz said with enthusiasm. "That young man's going for the gold, I think!"
Elsa gazed at the arrow through the bullseye, feigning interest. "I think you might be right."
The next contestant stepped up and Franz's attention was diverted. Elsa sat back, eyes slipping closed.
How? She thought. How had she spoilt things between them so irrevocably? Why had Anna believed her? Surely she knew— she had to know— how much Elsa loved her.
Why had she gone along with it so easily?
In an instant, they were back to the way they were. The sisters of Arendelle, sisters of closed door and cold silences.
The memory of another day, their worst day, rose up in her throat. She couldn't swallow it down.
Papa's study smelled of wood, smoke and old books. Stood by the desk with spiral legs, which as a child, she'd curled herself round, fifteen year old Elsa resorted to pleading with her father.
"Please, Papa. It's only for one day," she said.
Sat behind the desk with an ankle resting on his knee, the King took a puff of his pipe, drumming his fingers on the table unhappily.
"You know I'm not doing this to be cruel to you, Elsa," he said. "I'm just looking out for you and your sister."
"I know that. And I understand," said Elsa. She wore her hair in a tight knot behind her head. The collar of her dress chafed her neck. She wore the gloves. "But please. Just for one day. I know I can keep my powers under control. What kind of sister will I be if I don't even wish Anna a happy birthday?"
"One that keeps her safe," the King said, in a tone that told her, case closed.
But Elsa had been working on Anna's present for too long. If her father knew what it was, he'd be furious. One of his strictest rules: never to play with her powers. But for weeks now, she'd been working on Anna's present. Three times she'd accidentally frozen her curtains and countless was the number of gloves she'd been through. When she wasn't working on it, she'd hidden it underneath her bed. Her heart had almost jumped out of her skin when last week, her mother had knocked and walked straight in. She'd barely time to hide the present behind her back, her mother sighing at the bed posts, scaled with icicles.
They wouldn't understand: that this was something she just had to do.
"Please, Papa. I'm begging you," she said, hands pressed down the desk, lips pursed tight with emotion.
The King, conflicted, pressed a thumb and forefinger to his lined brow. "…Alright, Elsa," he said at last, with a great sigh. "You can come to Anna's birthday dinner tomorrow. But that's it."
Elsa wanted to jump up and down with excitement. Instead, she clasped her hands together, sunshine spilling out of her every pore.
"Thank you Papa!"
She just couldn't wait to see Anna's face when she gave her her present!
Anna gazed with ravenous eyes over the table, surprised it wasn't creaking under the weight of all the food laid out. Jam sandwiches, rolls, jelly, chocolate and cake. All the stuff she never usually was allowed to eat, except today was her birthday which meant she got whatever she wanted.
Her parents were sat at her side, the rest of the long table empty. Eagerly she said, "Can we start?" her fingers itching towards the plate of sandwiches. Smiling, her mother captured her hand with her own.
"Not yet," she said.
"Not yet?" Anna moaned, gazing at the food with longing. "What are we waiting for?"
"Your sister's going to join us," said the King.
"Elsa?" she said, brow scrunched up.
"Well, you don't have any more sisters, do you?" her mother tried to joke, though it came out flat. Anna glanced up at her parents. She thought they looked unhappy. It made her feel puzzled, and then annoyed.
"Why's she joining us?"
The spite in her voice made the Queen start. "Anna. Don't talk that way about your sister."
Anna crossed her arms, suddenly sullen. "This is my birthday. I never invited her. It's my birthday."
She saw her parents steal a glance. God, they looked so miserable. It was all Elsa's fault. Whenever someone mentioned her, they got so weird.
"Did you not want her to come?" her mother said softly.
Anna scrunched her arms up tighter. "I didn't say that," she said.
"Then what did you mean?" asked her father.
"I don't know!" she exclaimed. Staring out at the food, there was a sour taste in her mouth.
Even when Elsa wasn't here, she ruined everything.
The door creaked open. "Elsa," said the Queen, with false cheeriness. "We were waiting for you." Anna glared resolutely at the napkins.
"…Anna?" said her sister's voice.
Reluctantly, she pulled her eyes away from the tablecloth and looked up. And stared.
Elsa looked a billion times more graceful than she ever could, wearing a lovely blue dress that hinted at her budding figure. She was in no way awkward in her adolescence: she bloomed. And since when had she got so tall? It was like her sister had grown up, and she'd missed it. Anna stared at the stranger across the room.
Elsa smiled shyly, and offered her the present she held, wrapped in a pretty bow. "Happy birthday," she said. "This is for you."
Anna found herself staring at the box, Elsa holding it out for her awkwardly. "You got me a present?"
Her sister's smile faltered slightly. "I got you a present last year too."
"You did?" said Anna.
Elsa's smile vanished, a sea creature back into its shell. "I got you your favourite chocolates. I left them at your door."
"I thought those were from Papa," Anna said. "The groundsman's dog got into the castle again and messed them all up."
The tension was thick enough you could cut it up and serve for dinner. Tightly their mother said, with a fixed smile, "Anna, open your sister's present."
Elsa handed her the box. Anna turned it over, admiring her sister's neat wrapping. She had to admit: she was curious about what was inside.
Very carefully, she undid the bow with flourish of silk. All eyes were on her. Finding the edge of the paper she ran a fingernail underneath and pulled off the tissue paper. Inside was a very nice box. Without even seeing inside she could tell Elsa had put in a lot of effort. She took off the lid and peered inside.
And pulled out the object inside, puzzled.
"It's… a snow globe," she said.
She turned it upside down and shook it. Little pieces of snow fell in gentle flurries upon a castle. She frowned.
"I… I remembered how you used to collect them," Elsa said.
"It's cold!" said Anna, dropping it onto the table with a chink. She looked up at Elsa. "Yeah, I did. When I was eight." She looked over at her parents. What weird expressions on their faces! She guessed they saw what a stupid present it was, too.
"Elsa…" said the King, in a serious tone.
"I— I thought you'd like it," said Elsa. She was biting her lip so hard it'd turned white.
This was the moment when she was supposed to lie, and pretend she thought it was an amazing present. So Elsa didn't feel bad.
Except, this was her birthday. Her day. For once, everything wasn't supposed to revolve around her marvellous sister.
"Well, I don't. It's lame," she said. Elsa gazed at her with wide eyes. "I'm sorry, is that shocking to hear, your Highness?" she spat the words like poison, from the hardest part of her heart. "What? Am I supposed to act so happy you've decided to grace me with your presence?"
"Anna, I don't understand-…"
"Of course you don't understand. You've never tried!" Anna's cheeks were flushed with rage. She was standing, their parents were standing, the King was telling her to calm down. She didn't care. She picked up the snow globe. "What am I supposed to do with this?" she said. "How is this any good?"
Anna hadn't meant to do what she did. Honestly, she hadn't. But her anger took hold of her, and before she knew what had happened, the snow globe left her hand. It crashed, and shattered into a dozen pieces.
Almost like ice.
It was satisfying, and she gazed up at Elsa with a vindictive smile.
Until she noticed the tears in her sister's eyes. Elsa was crying, she realised. And the smile fell off her face.
A contradiction in her heart: she wanted to hurt Elsa, but to do so hurt her, too.
Hands wrapped round her sides, Elsa turned and ran from from the room. The King went after her.
"Young lady, what is wrong with you?" said the Queen, furious. "You're twelve years old, not five. Why would you do something like that?"
Anna could only shake her head.
Honestly, she didn't know.
Looking back now, the memory made Anna flush with embarrassment and her insides curl up like a burnt bit of paper. Before Elsa's coronation things were often bad between them, but that day had been the worst.
She laid listlessly in bed, ignoring the sunshine that spilt out through the gaps in the curtain. Gerda had come knocking for her an hour ago, but she'd ignored her.
It'd taken her a long time to get to sleep last night. Thoughts had gone round and round in her head: anger at herself, confusion, more confusion. Eventually her thoughts lost all coherency and spiraled into a mess.
She'd spent the night picking apart what she'd done wrong. What she'd said, and what she'd done at the ball. Had she really been that annoying? She'd starting picking through her memories, and then that memory had rose up to to her throat like vomit.
She'd gone past that comfy, morning stage long ago. Now, her pajamas felt uncomfortable, her bed sheet had come loose, and she wanted a wash. But she was reluctant to face the new day.
Another rap came at her door. "Princess Anna!" Gerda sung. "Princess Anna, are you awake?"
Anna slung the cover over her head. "No," she said. She groaned when she heard the door open anyway. Then, the cover was whisked from off of her.
"Gerda!" she complained, squinting her eyes at the sudden sunlight. Of course, she'd opened the curtains.
"You look awake to me, Princess Anna," the servant said, smiling.
Anna grabbed the cover back from her. "Well, I don't want to be," she said, pulling it back over her head. A second later, it was gone again. "Hey!"
Deftly, Gerda folded the duvet and deposited on the other side of the room. Then she began tidying.
Anna sat up in bed, blinking against the sunlight. "No offence Gerda, but I'd really rather just stay in bed today."
"Wouldn't we all?" said Gerda, gathering several dresses from off the floor under her arm. Then she elaborated: "However, Princess, when you have commitments you must keep to them."
"…Commitments?"
Gerda straightened up and smiled at her. "You said you wanted to join the Queen for her meeting with her small council today, Princess."
"Oh. Oh!" said Anna. "I'd forgotten all about it…"
"I thought you might have," said Gerda, with a sneaky smile.
Anna was aware she was being teased, but, she just wasn't in the mood. And, a meeting with Elsa? That was the last thing she wanted.
And probably for Elsa too, she thought. All I'll do is annoy her again.
"I think," she said, her voice wobbling slightly, "I don't think Elsa would want me to go. I should probably stay here."
Gerda paused in what she was doing. She set down the laundry, and came and sat down on the bed. She looked at Anna sternly. "Now, what's all this?" she said.
Anna stared at her hands. "We might have… had a bit of an argument."
"A bit?"
Anna smiled against her sadness. "Maybe more than a bit."
"We did wonder what was up with the weather yesterday…" said Gerda wryly, and Anna let out a soft hiccough of laughter. Like that, the floodgates opened, and Gerda gathered her up in her arms. Anna clung to her tightly, grateful, weathering her sorrow like a ship-wrecked sailor to a spar, as Gerda stroked her hair.
When Anna's tears subsided, Gerda demanded, "Tell me what happened."
"It's stupid…" protested Anna.
"It's not, if it's made you feel like this."
So Anna told Gerda what had happened, about the marriage and Jareth and what Elsa said to her. "Of course I realise now it's all my fault," she said. "I showed her up in front of the Spring City. I just said whatever I was thinking without considering the political implications. Of course she was mad at me."
But, Gerda simply looked puzzled. "She said she was only putting up with you, and she wasn't going to do it anymore? Are you sure?"
"Yes... I think so, anyway."
Gerda frowned deeply. "I don't know what happened, but I think you ought to talk to the Queen."
"Talk to her?" Anna spluttered. "After what she said?"
"Because of what she said. Because, in my honest opinion, Princess, that doesn't sound like the Queen Elsa I know."
"I don't know…"
"The Queen adores you, Princess. That's plain for anyone to see." When Anna made a doubtful noise, Gerda cupped her by the cheeks, hard enough to startle her. "Can't you see what's in front of your eyes, young lady? The two of you have got something great. You can't let an argument ruin it. Everyone argues sometimes— you should hear the howlers me and Kai have— you just have to make up after. Go talk to her." When Anna made to protest, Gerda interrupted her, "Besides. Sitting here being depressed isn't going to fix anything, is it? So go have a wash while I fetch your breakfast, then I'll comb your hair," she eyed Anna's atrocious bed-head, "and we'll get you ready for your meeting. Yes?"
Anna hesitated, and nodded. "I guess it can't make things worse."
"Yip, yip, then! No time like the present," Gerda said, pushing her towards the bathroom.
"I'm going, I'm going!" Anna said. She couldn't help but laugh.
Perhaps, she thought, Gerda was on to something. Because she'd thought Elsa had hated her once before. And she'd been wrong: there was a reason.
Perhaps, there was a reason this time too. The suspicion still nudged at her: that Elsa was keeping something from her. It was up to her to find out what.
Just as, years ago, she'd carefully picked out Elsa's present from the broken shards of ice she thought were glass. And discovered the castle was a tiny Arendelle, surrounded by the fjord. That in her own bedroom window was a minuscule Anna, with a tiny Elsa by her side.
To be continued.