The Sky Is Awake

VI. Somewhere In That Zone

Chestnut didn't think she was doing it right.

"What was that? 'Anna is only good at breaking things'? Well, excuse you! What do you know about fixing bikes, you apple addict?"

Her horse just looked at her. Anna stared back. Chestnut tilted his head. She dropped the screwdriver.

"Fine, I'm only good at breaking things. Happy?"

Satisfied, Chestnut returned to his apple. It was just silly how jumpy and scared he was of everything except her, and apparently anything he wasn't afraid of got bossed around. He'd probably get her lost on a mountain someday, but she loved the silly creature anyway.

Then Anna looked at the scrap of metal and wheels, and felt a tremor of despair. "Why didn't you tell me this was a bad idea before I made it worse?" she wailed.

After all, what kind of idiot would ride a bike down two flights of stairs without sitting on it? And what kind of maniac would dream of fixing such a wreck after leaving it to rust for so long?

"… Don't answer that."

Chestnut snorted.

Anna's fingers trailed along the bike's scratched frame, up one seat and across to the other. She remembered when her legs weren't even long enough to reach – she'd bugged Mama and Papa about that for months. Elsa had pedalled double-time while Anna steered, which probably explained why they never really got anywhere. So Anna drank her milk and ate all her greens, and finally her feet could reach the pedals… but by then Elsa didn't want to ride their bike around the halls anymore.

And this morning, in the middle of brushing her teeth, it struck Anna that they had never actually ridden their bike together.

Except she'd crashed and hidden it in the barn for two whole years. And Plan A had kind of gone to pieces with the rest of the bike.

If there had been any chance of salvaging the relic, it was all gone now. She should've told Kai to find someone who actually knew what they were doing. Because surely no fool would take apart something they had absolutely no idea how to put back together – seriously, who did that?

"You don't understand, buddy," Anna moaned, scratching Chestnut's ears. "I have to be the one to fix it. Never mind I'm also the one who broke it – but honestly, who puts a suit of armour right there? Anyway, it just has to be me." Chestnut nipped her braid. "'Why'? What do you mean why? Obviously it's because… um… because…"

Anna's hand went up to touch that strange strand of white in her hair. Sometimes she dreamed she'd been kissed there by a troll, but on that special night she only remembered Elsa's warm cheek against her head.

You'll be fine, Anna… I promise.

Chestnut nudged her shoulder. Anna leaned into his flank, breathing in his musky hay smell. He was really supposed to be Elsa's horse; a Christmas present. Anna had gotten, well, there were so many gifts from Alfred and the palace staff that she didn't remember what her parents had given her. And even though Elsa only received two presents that year, Anna still remembered being jealous.

He was white and shy, and Mama called him Gulbrand, or Gunnar, or something just as stuffy, which Anna thought was absurd because the pony was obviously too beautiful for a name like that. And he reminded her of Elsa, so, so much.

But when Papa put his reins in Elsa's hands, Anna had watched her sister's awe dissolve into fear. Her wide blue eyes stared at the pony – and then, almost by accident, they landed on Anna, who had practically draped herself over his neck in excitement.

Elsa slowly walked up to the pony. She raised a gloved hand to his snout, and stroked him carefully. Anna felt him shiver. Elsa pulled away. And gave Anna the reinns.

"He likes Anna more," she said to Papa. When he worriedly asked if she wanted another pony, Elsa just shook her head and said, "I have enough presents this year." Even if she had just given half of them away.

And Anna, partly ecstatic but mostly ashamed, couldn't find the words to thank her sister until the pony tried to eat her hair. He was the first Christmas present Elsa had given her in three years.

Chestnut snorted loudly. Anna blinked, and the answer was right there.

"She promised I would be okay but… she never said she would be, too."

Suddenly, Chestnut shook his entire body, throwing Anna off with a surprised "Hey!" She slipped on some screws and would've fallen spectacularly if Chestnut didn't rescue her with his long neck.

Clinging to salvation, Anna glared at her horse. "What was that for? I was trying to be serious! I do have that mode, you know."

He stamped and jerked his head. Go, you chicken.

"Am not! What about you? You're a… a… oh dear, I'm talking to a horse. Ow! Okay, I'm going! I'm going!"

OoOoO

"Chestnut – that's what I called him, did I tell you? – he wanted to see – no wait. He wanted me to see you… I wanted to… see – damn it!"

She knew she should've ignored that silly horse! Then she wouldn't have to sound like such an awkward chipmunk in front of her sister and pretend – wait, why was she even pretending again?

Anna flopped back on her bed. She'd just about paced her room bald. She'd been doing that a lot lately, ever since that night Elsa found her outside their parents' door.

Come to think of it, she'd started doing a lot of new things since then. Fixing bikes, for example. She and Elsa talked a lot more, too. Which would've been the news of the century if all of it didn't feel so… so… polite.

Weather, food, architecture, Arendelle, pigeons – they covered it all over breakfast, lunch and dinner. Sometimes they even had a laugh over dessert. And it wasn't like she wasn't happy about that – it was everything she'd spent all her birthday wishes on.

Everything, but just– not quite there.

Not quite the way it felt when they were still separated by the white door, only Anna was frustrated and begging, and Elsa was telling her to Go away in that sad voice. Which was bizarre, because Anna never thought she would prefer being shut out over… whatever they were doing right now.

It was just– it was like they were sweeping more and more of that night under the door, trying to pretend they hadn't seen each other at their most honest moments and God, that had been so embarrassing–

"… Oh."

Oh.

Anna slapped a pillow over her head. Because she was so stupid… and because she didn't really want to remember how hard it was to cry in front of her sister without a door in between them. She'd spent so long blaming Elsa for her walls that she never realised what a hypocrite she was. But…

But the bad dreams had stayed away, and when she woke up Elsa was still warm and there, right next to her and Anna hadn't felt so safe since they'd veiled their parents' portrait.

And then they'd tried to pretend the whole thing hadn't happened.

In a flurry of bed sheets, Anna was out the door and stalking down the corridor, amazed that she wasn't the only idiot this time.

"Elsa, I'm coming in, okay?"

Anna didn't wait – she couldn't wait. Otherwise Elsa would shut her out and this daring courage would drain away, and they'd never move past weather, architecture and pigeons. And that was just torture. Anna had never been so sure of something so disastrous: she had to do it right now.

Except for some reason, she never expected the handle to actually turn… so when it did, Anna froze in shock, unable to push open the door. Because she never knew.

Had Elsa never locked her door?

Slowly, her fingers pulled away from the handle, leaving the door unopened. Anna tucked her hands behind her back like her actions had painted them red. But Elsa didn't come to the door – she probably wasn't even inside, and Anna was too dumbfounded to be surprised.

She was lucky. Elsa must be having her lessons with her tutor, just about the only reason she ever left her room. Anna used to be jealous (and maybe still was), but right now she felt just like she had when Elsa had handed over Chestnut's reins.

"Sorry," she breathed to the white door. "I can't go in there, can I?"

It watched her silently.

And then Anna knew.

She knew what they were going to talk about at dinner tonight, leaning on either side of this door. She'd tell Elsa how Chestnut was doing and that they should take him for a ride together, because their bike was too small for them anyway. They'd stumble awkwardly through memories of the things they used to do, and Elsa might apologise and Anna would try not to push too hard. And then she'd ask Elsa if she had always trusted her not to break through her door, or if that was exactly what she'd been waiting for all these years.

She really, really needed to know.

She wanted to promise that Elsa was going to be okay, too, because she deserved to be. She'd even steal a chocolate bunny from the kitchen, just like she did every Christmas–

I have enough presents this year.

Anna's hands came up to her mouth. She stared at the white door, and her vision began to waver.

She didn't know anything at all.

"Anna? What are you doing?"

She whirled, wiping her eyes – and there was Elsa, a stack of books weighing down her arms. Anna met her sister's cautious gaze, and suddenly she couldn't help it.

She sniffled once, twice – and burst into tears.

"Anna?" Elsa put down the books, flustered. "Is something wrong? Are you hurt? I don't… please tell me what's wrong. I-I'm right here… Anna?"

Somehow that just made it all worse.

Anna blubbered, "Why didn't you just tell me that was all you wanted?"

Elsa looked bewildered. Anna wanted to dig a hole in the stables and stay there forever.

Then Elsa took a deep breath. "I-If you cry too much, your tears will create a big monster that will eat all the chocolate in Arendelle…"

Anna choked on tears and laughter. Elsa flushed and patted her back.

And Anna didn't quite understand it all; that sometimes you didn't know what you wanted until someone gave it to you. But she did learn that the best gifts, like a chocolate bunny left outside a white door, were often accidents.

A/N: Is it weird that I loved how Anna scratches Hans' horse under the chin when they first meet? Because that was the precise moment I fell in love with her.