The Sky Is Awake

V. We Know Better

In Elsa's memory, she was small and drowsy, and it was the first night in a long time that she was letting Papa tuck her in. As he secured the blanket around her shoulders, she asked in a muffled voice, "Papa? Is Anna asleep?"

Chuckling, her father cupped his large hand against her head. He was warm. "Yes, Princess. I wager you might even hear her snoring from here."

Elsa fell asleep before she could tell her father that on some nights, she really could.

And she had never told him that she sometimes woke in the grey hours with a pounding heart and the chill of snowflakes on her skin, clutching her chest through a damp nightgown. But she had a feeling her father had always known. After all, his portrait had watched her toss and turn beneath the sheets for years.

This time, Elsa woke to the hiss of rain crystallising to ice against her window.

Please, no, she prayed. But when she opened her eyes, her room was powdered white.

She didn't even know what she'd been dreaming of.

Elsa sat up. Icy dew seeped into her nightgown. She realised she was shivering, and it wasn't from the cold. "Melt," she said helplessly. "Please. Just… go away."

It didn't. It never did.

You will learn to control your powers.

She couldn't look at her father's portrait. She couldn't stay where his strong gaze could find her.

Wrapping the blanket around herself, Elsa slid out of bed. The snow was soft beneath her feet – almost warm, somehow – but goosebumps prickled her skin anyway. She hurried to the door, only to hesitate and look back.

Her room could have belonged in a child's snow globe; timeless, untouchable. For a fleeting second, Elsa remembered what it was like to be awed by the beauty of her powers, to feel excited that she could make snowmen with a mere thought. She remembered… liking her powers.

Then the moment was gone, and Elsa shut herself out of the room.

Outside, the corridor was dark and quiet. The sky wasn't even awake yet. Elsa held her breath, afraid the ice would spread through the cracks. But the door stayed closed, and Elsa's quick breathing was the only sound breaking the palace's pre-dawn tranquillity. Anna and everyone else were safe… for now.

Elsa looked down at herself. She had nothing but slippers, a blanket and nowhere to go. If anyone saw her now, they wouldn't believe she was the future mistress of this great palace. Elsa would've laughed if she wasn't so terrified by the thought.

She was going to be queen. In less than three years, she'd hold the orb and sceptre in front of her people… her people. How could her father promise that she would be ready when she so clearly never would be?

A cold tingle spread beneath her palm. Don't feel, don't feel…

There was a deep growl in the darkness.

Eyes widening, Elsa turned around. The corridor was empty.

Then– snort. And the rumbling resumed.

Elsa couldn't help smiling when she recognised that sound. Anna. She didn't know how she'd ever slept in the same room with that awful noise And yet she would return to those days in a heartbeat.

Except she hadn't heard Anna snore this loudly in a long time. It was as if there wasn't a door between them… Elsa slipped around the corner.

Anna's door was wide open. But the room beyond was silent. Which meant–

Elsa backtracked, her blanket swirling like a cape. The sounds went past her room, around another corner. And as Elsa turned it, she had a sinking feeling that she knew where they were taking her.

Her feet remembered this path. They'd worn it thin on many nights like this, until she'd realised she couldn't keep going to them… and she was right. But not like this. If she'd known, she would have gone to them a thousand nights over. She would have…

She stopped at the bottom of a carpeted staircase.

Fast asleep at the top, curled against their parents' bedroom door, was Anna.

There was no way her sister could be comfortable in that position. Then again, Anna at five hadn't been picky with her sleeping surfaces and it should have comforted Elsa to find that some things never changed. But it didn't comfort her, because this was not a study desk or the stables, or even Elsa herself—this was everything that haunted her dreams.

Elsa raised her gaze to the double mahogany doors. It used to take both of them just to open one of those doors. Their mother made a point of leaving them open. Sometimes there are doors that we can't see in life, she'd said once. That is why we should practice opening the ones we can see.

Elsa hadn't understood. Not until the gates had to close because of her, and by then it was much too late.

Her nails cut crescents into her palms as she climbed the first step.

Up close, Anna's sleep did not look as restful as Elsa had thought. She twitched and mumbled. Elsa held her breath, but her sister dozed on with a line of drool on her chin. Very carefully, Elsa tucked her blanket around her sister. Anna's hair was a nest, but the single white lock shone bright in the dimness.

Elsa drew back and was halfway down the stairs before she realised she couldn't knock to tell Father that Anna was sleeping outside again. She couldn't tell her mother that she finally understood her words from all those years ago. There was no one left to open Elsa's doors when she slammed them shut… and no one to shield Anna when she left herself wide open.

Elsa wished she hadn't left her room. She wished Anna knew better, wished that their parents hadn't boarded their ship. She wished none of this had ever happened.

She went back and gently shook Anna's knee. "Wake up, Anna. Please. Anna."

No response. Elsa tried a while longer, and then gave up. She realised she hadn't tried at all; not the way Anna tried with her. And yet she felt weary.

Elsa sat down beside her sister; far enough that they wouldn't touch, close enough to hear Anna's soft breathing. Elsa pulled her knees up and dropped her head with a sigh. Her throat clenched.

"We can't wait here forever, Anna… they won't be coming back."

The words drifted into the early morning chill and were gone. Elsa could never take them back again, and she foolishly didn't think it was a mistake until-

"I know."

Elsa's head shot up. Anna hadn't moved, her face hidden in the shadows.

But her voice told Elsa she had been crying.

"Anna–"

"It's okay – I'm okay," Anna said quickly. She sniffled, and then gave a quiet laugh. "Do you think I sleepwalk? Because sometimes Alfred says a cat raided his kitchen and I wake up with chocolate on my face – but don't go telling him that, okay?"

Elsa tried to smile. "Go back to your room, Anna. You'll catch a cold."

Anna pushed her hair from her face. Then she looked meekly at Elsa. "I look like an idiot, don't I? Sleeping out– here."

She didn't, and never would. But if agreeing with her sister was all it took to shield her from all the world's cruelty, Elsa would do it. If only.

"Okay, you totally think I'm lame. It's fine." Anna filled in her sister's silence. Then she sighed. "I was going to go in but… I guess I couldn't. So I was going to leave except, well, I couldn't do that either... It's funny, huh? I'm usually pretty good at running in without thinking."

Anna was good at that, Elsa realised. Distracting people from herself. She'd never seen it before; now it was all she could see. And when Anna, wiping her face, turned to give her a wobbly grin, Elsa felt something old and warm stir within her.

"I miss them, too."

Anna closed her mouth. She curled up tighter, and so did Elsa. Neither of them spoke for a long time.

Elsa stiffened when Anna leaned into her. But Anna didn't give her a chance to bring her walls up. "Elsa? We'll be okay, won't we?"

And Elsa realised that Anna had only pretended to know the answer, that day outside her door. She had been waiting for someone to agree with her… and the white door never answered. But now the door was behind them rather than in between, and Elsa had never wanted to believe something so desperately.

"You'll be fine, Anna… I promise."

Anna just nodded into her arm. Moments later, she was asleep again, her steady breathing warm against Elsa's neck. Elsa pulled her hands closer to her chest, just in case. She'd forgotten how heavy and warm Anna could be… but Anna clearly hadn't forgotten how to trust someone with all her weight. She still believed in empty promises. She still believed everything that her big sister told her.

"I missed you, too," Elsa whispered. It was all she could manage before Anna's strand of white – her white – started to burn a terrible memory into her skin. She couldn't let that night happen again.

But every question she answered, every note she passed, every piece of warmth she received… they were dangerously breaking down all that she had hidden behind for the last ten years. And suddenly Elsa didn't want the sky to wake, because everything she felt in this moment had become far too precious to conceal.

A/N: I am completely overwhelmed by the support this story gained in the last chapter. Seriously, where did it all come from?! Looks like Frozen won a lot more than my heart! And that's a very happy thought.

This chapter turned out to be the toughest I've had to write in a long time. At so many points I just wanted to give up on it. But I knew I had to do this right - so after much editing and rewriting, I have to let this one go and live with the fact that Elsa and Anna's story can't always be put into words.

And as always, thanks so much for reading!