A/N: Hey, sorry the chapters are taking so long; I meant to be better at this, oh well I suck. Anyway, thank you to Blackfirewolfy for being my beta, and yeah my last chapter didn't have an authors note. It seems pointless to go back and fix it. My friend pointed out that this might not be clear and I'm not sure how to fix it so I'll explain just in case. Anna was hidden in the castle, and Elsa was told she was with magic trolls in the mountain so that she wouldn't go looking for her. Sorry that might not be clear. Also I'll be adding stuff from other movies in soon just be patient please. Review and enjoy, thanks.

Beatrice and I now stand side by side at the back of the crowd, our heads down, and our hands clasped just like everyone else. My black veil makes everything seem dark, as if the lights of heaven have been turned out. I can hear the priest standing in front of the tombstones speaking about life and death. His voice carries across the crowd to me and sticks deep in my heart. I am thankful to have my own gloomy space beneath the veil where no one can see me cry.

Tear drops form against the black webbing of the veil, mixing with the condensation from my breath. They sparkle at me like stars in the night sky. Children of the sun, and moon; I think quietly to myself, but where are the sun and the moon? I close my eyes and shudder with sobs.

I wonder to myself if my parents knew what life was. Surely they did, for they were going on exciting sea voyages, not wasting away in their rooms. Of course, that sea voyage was their ultimate end, but I wonder if it was worth it to feel actual air on their face if only for a day. I'd like to think it was.

I lean towards Beatrice and whisper in her ear, "Beatrice, I don't want to be stuck in my room anymore. I want to go outside like a normal person."

She gives me a skeptical look from beneath her veil as she answers, "You are not a normal person. We will talk about this later."

"We will not," I hiss back softly, grateful that she can't see how upset I am through the veil. "Beatrice, I'm old enough to start making my own decisions. I'm going to start doing things beyond the confines of my bedroom, and that's the end of that."

"It is not," she spits angrily. We've draw some attention from the people in front of us. Beatrice gives them an apologetic nod then takes my arm and leads me a couple steps back from the crowd. "You're parents left me in charge of your safety. I'm not going to fail them."

"I'm not a baby," I scowl back, "and even if I was, locking me away from the world isn't going to fix that."

"Anna," she warns but I continue.

"No, I'm going to leave that room, see the world, and live my life. I can take care of myself." And with that, I stalk forward and disappear in the crowd.

I don't go to the funeral. I am too upset, and I'm sure that if I went I would have covered their graves in ice. So I stay in my room and lay on my bed trying not to cry or shoot ice as I fidget with my gloves.

"Not mourning for your parents isn't natural, Elsa," Pitch says from somewhere in the room. "Especially when you killed them."

I can't hear him. I can't see him. He's not real. The only thing that's real is the canopy above my bed, that's it, nothing else exists. I breathe out slowly and am alarmed when I can see my breath above my face. I close my eyes for a moment, trying to shove the emotions back down, conceal don't feel. Those are the rules, those are the rules. I sigh and open my eyes again, and the tears pour out.

I don't wait for Beatrice before leaving; I disappear with the crowd, climb on my horse, and ride back to the castle as fast as I possibly can. I know she won't expect me to do this, that she'll linger behind and search for me, which means I'll get a head start.

I get to the castle and rush inside. Racing down the vaguely familiar halls, I head towards what used to be my tower bedroom. I bolt up the stairs to the top floor, hurry around the circular hall, and stop in front of a white door decorated with blue and green flowers made from geometrical shapes. I reach for the curling brass handle of the door, then hesitate.

It has been so long, and I doubt she's expecting me. I don't want to startle her, so I draw my hand back from the handle, and raise my fist.

I knock three times on the door.

Knock, knock, knock.

I've finally calmed myself down when I hear the noise. I turn my head to frown at the door. It's been a while since someone's knocked on my door. Slowly, I rise from the bed and approach the door cautiously. I tug at the edges of my gloves, and straighten before placing my hand on the brass handle. I take a deep reassuring breath, and then pull open the door.

I stand stock-still at what I see before me. Shocked into silence I stare at what I see, who I see, a ghost come back from the grave. She has shifted back from the door, and has turned away ever so slightly with her head down, as if she were about to leave. Now that I've opened the door, however, she slowly raises her eyes to me, a smile creeping across her face the higher her head lifts.

My first thought is that it's some illusion Pitch created to torment me, but it can't be so because she is too perfect, too whole, and too familiar. She is older, her face matured to match her age, so much so that I might not have recognized her, but I do. I recognize her because I've thought about her every day of my life. I haven't let myself forget even the smallest details about her, and as such I know her face in every shape and form. I know those eyes, those freckles, and those pigtails. I know them better than I know the back of my hand. I know that this is real, that she is real, even if I don't understand how.

"Anna," I whisper, reaching both hands to cup her face, but then my eyes lift higher and I hesitate. Between her eyes is a white discolouration with faded blue lines running through it. I remember my ice striking her in that exact spot; the memory leaps forth so violently that I curl my fingers into fists, as if to trap any excess magic that might try to escape. My eyes drift to the white streak in her hair, and I remember her hair paling before my eyes.

Suddenly I am filled with visions of pain and horror, of ink-coloured lips and frost vines tangled around skin. The images start in flashes of the past but slowly blend into the present. I see the current Anna being consumed by hoarfrost so thick that you can't see her sky-coloured skin through it, until she's choking, drowning in it.

I flinch so hard at the mess of revelations that I stagger back and spin away from Anna. I almost go careening into the floor, but crash into my bedpost instead. I pinch my eyes shut as I hold myself there.

"Elsa!" Anna cries from behind me, and I hear her footsteps clop against the floor as she rushes into the room. "Are you alright?" she asks and I can feel her hands on my arm trying to support me.

All of a sudden I can see everything with perfect clarity. I did not kill Anna; all this torture, all this pain, for the despicable thing I'd done to the person I loved most, but it wasn't so. Yet despite the lie I know I deserved all that suffering anyway, because I know I really did risk Anna's life that day and my parents knew that too. Why else would they hide her from me? They were trying to protect her, from me, and I know they were right to do so.

I cannot risk her life, not again. I've been given a second chance, something I've always longed for, but never dared to hope I could have. I will not fail again.

"I'm fine!" I snap, shoving her away; we stagger away from each other, and I cross my arms over my chest as she gives me a baffled look. "Why are you here?"

"Why am I here? Our parents just died! That's why I'm here." She takes a deep breath. "I missed you, that's why I'm here! Didn't you miss me?" Yes, yes of course I missed her, but I can't tell her that because if I admit that to her she'll never leave. "Of course not, otherwise you would have visited me! Well, excuse me for wanting to talk to you!"

"Anna!" I cry softly before I remember myself. I compose myself quickly, and try to ignore the pinch of frost in my gloves "How could you have ever thought I cared? I ignored you for nine years, did you think I seriously couldn't spare a moment in all that time? Honestly, Anna, how much does it take for you to get it?" Every word feels like a knife to the heart.

"Just tell me one thing, Elsa; is it because of the illness?" she growls. I don't know what illness she's talking about, but I go with it.

"Yes, Anna, it's the illness. How could I ever love someone as bedridden as you?" The frost travels out of the edge of my gloves, and I turn away so she won't see.

"Wow Elsa, I never would have thought you were so petty." She scowls at my back.

"And I never would have thought you to be so naive." I wish I could tell her, I wish I could make her understand, but it's too much of a risk.

"I can't believe I ever idolized you!" she snaps, her voice full of pain, and it takes everything in me not to apologize, and hug her, and never let her go.

"Please," I say as tears well in my eyes, "Just leave before you infect me."

"It's not contagious!" she almost shrieks at me. I take a breath as I prepare to break both our hearts again, except that this time I'll be doing it with the truth.

"Oh Anna, all ailments find a way to affect others."

"When did you become so cold?" she half cries, half screams at me, and runs out of the room. The door slams hard behind her and the sound makes me wince. Slowly I sink down to my knees and stare down at my gloved hands; I can see the moisture from my own tear drops spotting the fabric.

"Dear Anna," I whisper softly to myself what I could never say to her, "I've always been cold."

I can't stop crying. How could I have been so stupid? It was so obvious she didn't love me, and yet I refused to believe it was so. Honestly, who didn't have a moment to spare for nine years? I've been such a fool, but not anymore; now that I see the truth I can quit holding out for a fantasy. My head pounds from my sisters cruel words in a radiating pain that won't quit. My whole life seems to pass before me in a blur of waiting, waiting for her to never come; my heart aches. I just don't understand what could have happened all those years ago that would make her so malicious. There was a time, I'm sure, where she would have stood by me in my agony, but when did that change? Maybe it's more than just the illness, maybe somewhere down the road she saw me as competition for the throne, like I even cared about that anyway.

"D-do you wanna build a snowman?" I mutter to myself as I wander the halls. Some hours later, Beatrice finds me. When I confess to her what happened she tries to lead me back to my room, but I refuse. From now on I'll go where I want, when I want, and Beatrice can't do much to stop me.

I despise Elsa, but at the same time I know I'll always care about her, even if she's no longer the girl from my childhood; in the end I just want to know why. I linger at the base of the tower steps time and time again, but cannot gather the courage to walk up them. I want to ask her why but I know she'll just push me away, and shut me out. So I just stand there murmuring to myself, "Do you wanna build a snowman?" because those used to be the magic words to make her leave the room.

One day I realize that sooner or later I have to accept that those words no longer have any power, and that day I stop trying to understand, and just give up.

Later Anna's nurse finds me and explains to me the whole situation with Anna, though I already figured out most of it. I now know that I am the reason she has illness, and memory loss, and this adds to the pain of almost killing her. I ask Pitch once if he knew about Anna, but he only shrugs and replies, "So what if I did?" and though that answer was as good as a yes, it's true that it really doesn't matter.

I don't see Anna again after that; I want to go apologize to her, and I must constantly remind myself why I cannot go find her. Sometimes I swear I can hear her though, calling for me to build snowmen, and I'm sure I must be going insane. Of course there's always the possibility that it's Pitch taunting me, though he claims to be doing no such thing. It doesn't matter what he says though, because I know I can't trust him to tell the truth. So I tell myself that it's only him.

One day I stop hearing her voice, and I'm not sure why, but I'm overcome with the feeling that she's stopped caring about me. I've never felt so lonely in my life. I tell myself anyway:

It's for the best.