Anna was giving me a little trouble for this one.
For clarification, Anna is 18 when she meets Hans, Elsa is 20, and Hans is 20 and roughly a half. Therefore, since nearly a decade has passed, Anna is 26, Elsa is 29, and Hans is about 29, but not quite. Elsa and Hans have had their birthdays, but Anna has not.
Edit: I don't know where I mixed up Anna with Elsa, but I did notice some errors with the dividing. Thanks for letting me know. I didn't do anything else to this chapter, other than adding the dividers. It might have been confusing earlier, so I decided to change it.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
"Anna, please."
"Kristoff, what do you want me to do?" Anna is clearly on the edge now, her emotions spilling out of her throat and she chokes on the words as Kristoff watches helplessly. Their words have been going around in circles now.
"I-" Kristoff begins, but the sounds fade off with a burning crackle as Anna takes a step back, as if to run. They stand in stilted silence, and the only sound is the fading swoosh of wind and the sounds of the forest around the lake.
"Anna," Kristoff persists, and Anna is this close from having a breakdown, but Kristoff will not have any of it, "I swear, I did not know, it really wasn-"
"How do you expect me to trust you?" She asks, and she seems more exhausted than anything else. The year and a world of tiredness seems to have caught up with her, and her leafy green eyes hold nothing but weariness.
Kristoff feels an irrational anger begin to rise up inside of him, and he knows it is utterly wrong and uncalled for, but it bursts out before he can stop it. "So it's all my fault, then? This-" Kristoff gestures to Anna wildly, "is a lie? All of it?" He feels so very frustrated.
Anna looks uncertain. "Look, it is not just that-"
"Then what?"
"Look, you don't get it! This- this is not just about you and me! Your family," Anna spits out, and it falls from her lips and hits him better than the butt of any blade or axe could, "ruined someone's life. Someone they did not even know, and all for the sake of a happy ever after?" The last words are drawn out, and it vaguely sounds like Anna is singing along to a much, much happier tune than the situation warrants. She seems shocked by her outburst.
"I'm sorry, Kristoff, I just..."
"I get it," Kristoff murmurs.
Anna runs and leaves footprints behind in the snow to the haunting scent of dead perennials.
The forest looks dark, looming, filled with monsters and boogeymen, and the icicles hanging off the trees look dangerous, spiked, instead of the usual elegance and shimmering beauty Anna was accustomed to. Anna wonders how desperate Hans was. Or perhaps, how much time he had to imagine riding off into a landscape like this, with the wind whistling past his ears, without the stench of mildew burning his senses. That was her fault, she thinks.
The truth stains the evening snow.
Anna does not move on.
At the very least, it is the most she can do for the one person that she sent spiraling into an abyss so deep it seems like forever. She will not forget, not for him. The memories will stay, like the color of Arendelle in endless, all encompassing winter, a head of burning auburn and blue eyes and betrayal, a streak of platinum blonde through honey golden brown.
She locks it up behind bars and cages and laughter and tears and sorrow and anger, and she does not let Kristoff's broad shoulders and blonde hair wither the memory down. It remains pristine and clear, a portrait behind a black veil.
It is a cornerstone, a stepping stone, a breaking point, and from then on, there, Anna falters in her footsteps. Each time she walks, there always seems to be something dragging her down.
She does not forget.
(go away, Anna.)
Elsa wrings her hands, and Anna watches as the sunlight from the nearby lattice window flickers off her hair.
"Anna, why don't you just look for him? You might have a chance at finding him."
"Elsa... The thing is, this is all my fault. He is probably laying low- if otherwise, I do not believe he will want to see me," Anna says bitterly. "I just wanted you to know that- that we were wrong."
"The thing is- how can you be so sure? He did love you, after all."
"I don't know if I can reciprocate that. That was the whimsical promises of a child, and I was won over by his handsomeness and charisma- but I do need to make up for it, and I don't know how."
"Think of him as a friend, then. There are many different kinds of love- and I know you, Anna. This isn't just borne out of guilt and regret that you somehow caused it."
"I'm just so confused..."
Elsa reaches over and pours another cup of steaming Earl Grey tea. She sets it on a ornate plate and pushes it towards Anna. "Think on it."
When Elsa announces the plans for a bigger castle, Anna thinks about the music of an orchestra, dancing silhouettes on a warm ice, and a duet on top of a lighthouse.
When Anna sees the clear, ice windows, sharp and beautiful and everything that her sister is but she is not, she wants to cry.
Elsa fumbles anxiously, her expression so far from her usual façade. She only lets Anna see it now, and even after all this while, she feels something warm inside. It is another thing that only Anna is privy to, and she no longer longs for how things used to be.
Elsa looks gorgeous in her wedding dress, and Anna feels a unreasonable pang of jealousy. The marriage is only for convenience, she knows, but Anna wants something like Elsa has, to be able to jump around and twiddle her thumbs nervously, because this was the person she was going to spend the rest of her life with, no matter what. She remembers a strong jaw and broad shoulders and shining black boots and an Isabelline colored coat.
She stares at white roses in a china vase on Elsa's windowsill, and blinks until her eyes are dry.
Anna remembers, but sometimes she wonders if she made the right choice. She remembers a day when she rode out to the forest and saw wilting roses, petals ground to dust and ash. It leaves a bitter taste in her mouth and an inky smear on her fingertips.
*Isabelline is a color and is referring to Hans' horse.