Anna POV

An arresting hitching movement abruptly suspends my slumber. I jolt awake, startled by the sudden movement in the bed. Elsa lurches forward, her hand pressed to her face, her eyes shut tight.

"Elsa?" I say, still disoriented and drowsy, confused as to what is ailing my sister. "Are you okay?"

Elsa sits back up and I catch a glimpse of her face. A taut smile is plastered on her lips and her bright blue eyes are shining with amusement. She doesn't speak, however, which only confuses me more. I'm about to question her again when suddenly Elsa pitches forward in a powerful sneeze. A soft spray of powdery snow dusts the bed sheets.

"Bless you," I say with a laugh.

Elsa takes another hitching breath and then sneezes forcefully once more, showering our bedspread in a flurry of crystalized snowflakes. She raises her head, rubbing her nose, her eyes bright with laughter. "Sorry."

I smile at her. "Is this a common occurrence?"

Elsa sniffles and stretches her slender hands out to brush the frost off of our bodies. "Occasionally I discover particular circumstances where it's difficult to control my powers."

"I hope you're not getting sick," I say anxiously, guilt striking me fiercely in the abdomen.

Elsa smiles at me. "I feel fine, Anna. Don't worry about me. How are you feeling?"

"Oh," I say softly. "Not too bad."

She eyes me warily, reading right through my lie. I can be pretty transparent at times, but it's hard to defer away from the truth when my head and stomach ache so fiercely. She rests the back of her palm gently against my cheek and again on my forehead.

"You feel a little cooler though," she says. "You really should eat something, though. Gerda brought us in some soup a few minutes ago. It should still be hot."

I scowl at the thought of food. Elsa reads my expression, her lips twisting into a crooked smile. "Just try to eat something, okay? You really need to keep your strength up and starving yourself isn't going to make you better."

She sets the bowl on my lap and I stare down disdainfully at the dish that is normally my favorite meal: carrot and potato soup. The steam rising from the broth tickles my face, but its normally tantalizing smell seems unappetizing to me. "What time is it?" I ask, carefully clearing my throat.

"About 8:15."

"What?" I say incredulously. "I slept through the whole day?"

"No, no. That's good," Elsa assures me. "I want you to sleep. You need your rest."

I groan softly. This flu caused Elsa and I to miss out on an entire day's worth of duties. Kristoff is due to return tomorrow morning and I am still feeling just as miserable as before. I wrinkle my nose in disgust.

"Anna," Elsa says sternly. "It's okay to take a sick day every once and awhile. Now eat your soup."

When I hesitate, Elsa pointedly dips the spoon into the broth and then holds it in front of my lips. "Open," she orders and I give her an incredulous stare.

Elsa's eyes sparkle with mischief. "Oh, just open already."

I roll my eyes and do as I'm told, savoring the warmth of the liquid as it runs down the back of my sore throat. I smile gratefully at my sister. I open my mouth to say something when Elsa shoves another spoonful of soup into my mouth.

"Goodness, child," Elsa teases, deliberately trying to sound like our mother when she used to chastise us as children. "Does that mouth of yours ever stop moving?"

My mouth filled with soup, I resort to gently smacking Elsa's arm playfully with my hand. I swallow with difficulty and then chuckle quietly. "And when exactly were you planning on letting me breathe? You're practically choking me to death."

Elsa laughs softly and continues to feed me. I don't argue or resist. On the contrary, though it's embarrassing to be spoon-fed by your older sister at the age of eighteen, I'm very flattered that she cares about me enough to do this at all. After I've dipped into at least half of the bowl, I'm starting to feel nauseous.

"I think that's enough for tonight," I mumble, fighting back the urge to be sick.

"Fair enough," Elsa says, setting the bowl down on the nightstand beside my bed. I rest my head on her shoulder, shivering slightly.

We sit in silence for a few heartbeats and then Elsa turns to me. "Anna," she says suddenly. "How much of our childhood together do you remember?"

I wince and close my eyes, hesitating for a few seconds longer before whispering, "Everything."

Elsa's eyes are pools of sorrow. "By 'everything', what exactly do you mean? You can't remember that I had powers," She shakes her head in sadness. "The trolls took care of that."

I shudder at the thought of someone tampering with my memories. Mutated images altered within my own head for my conscience to grow accustomed to and accept. The memories that I've been clinging to for the thirteen years that I blamed myself for Elsa shutting me out.

"I don't know what to believe, to be honest," I mutter. "All I know is that we were really close and then after I fell through the ice, you wouldn't talk to me anymore. I rarely ever saw you after that and you would hardly make brief eye contact with me when I did."

Though Elsa had clarified that she had struck me in the head with her powers when I was five, the story that my parents had formulated was that we had been playing on the thin ice encrusted over the fjord and I had fallen in. Because it had not actually happened, my recollection of it is inconstant and unreliable, but I had always thought that that was a direct result of the accident itself. For the longest time, I thought Elsa ceased hanging out with me because she thought I was just a foolish girl who made the stupid decision to go and almost drown herself in the icy depths of the fjord.

Elsa doesn't say anything, but the pained lines in her face reflect the gravity of her remorse and guilt. I slip my fingers through hers and rest my head back on her shoulder. Our silence speaks volumes and we're content in basking in each other's companionship.

"I love you," Elsa whispers, her voice hardly audible.

I gaze up at her through the soft light of our darkened room. Her vivid blue eyes glow unnaturally bright and they brim with heavy tears. Her lower lip quivers ever so slightly, but she manages a small smile. All of her sorrow and unspoken words are expressed through a storm of swirling emotions in her eyes. I try to imagine what it must have been like to feel responsible for nearly killing your younger sister. To look at my elder and approximate the magnitude of her accountability for what happened in the past. . . After our parents died, the extent of my sister's presence in the castle had been occasional flashes of blonde hair, the quiet murmuring of her voice when she would speak to any of the servants, or those wide and anxious eyes every time we briefly glanced each other's way.

"I love you more than you'll ever know," I murmur, snuggling into the crook of my sister's arm. Elsa affectionately strokes my arm, causing me to shiver slightly, but the sensation is so delicate and soothing that I start to feel the dregs of sleep pull me into a deep slumber. I'm just starting to cross over from the waking world when suddenly Elsa's shoulder stiffens and she turns away from me, sneezing twice, showering the floor next to our bed in a blanket of frost.

I sit up a little, frowning slightly. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Elsa turns to me, rubbing her nose drowsily. "Don't worry about me, Anna." She suppresses a shiver, but it's hard to miss the unmistakable blush to her porcelain cheeks and the irregular luminosity in her ice blue eyes. I cup her face in my hands and frown, feeling guilt weigh heavily upon my shoulders.

"You feel feverish," I say, feeling concern welling up within me. Suddenly, I find my lips moving and my emotions press against my eyeballs, threatening to materialize into tears. "Dammit, Elsa, I'm sorry. I told you should have kept your distance. I really didn't mean to get you sick. You were so nice to take care of me today and I repay you by infecting you with this—"

"Anna," Elsa interrupts me, taking me by the shoulders. "Anna," She smiles at me. "It's okay. Really. I don't mind being sick," She gently prods my nose with a fingertip. "You're my sister and you mean the world to me. So what if I'm coming down with something? As long as I'm with you, nothing else matters."

My face grows hot as I maintain my sister's sharp cerulean gaze. A strange sensation flutters in my stomach. It's nice to feel appreciated and needed by my sister; needed by anybody really. For years I've craved the companionship of a friend and here my sister and I were holding one another close, providing the other with stability after so long of being emotionally stunted by our childhood.

There are no words to describe this dependence on my bond with Elsa, but I praise my luck every day for having her in my life. Our familiarity and trust in one another leaves me feeling safe and never alone. I know that if anything ever happened, I could count on Elsa to be there for me in a heartbeat and I would lay down my life for her without hesitation; evidence shows that I have in the past.

Elsa sniffles miserably and I'm reminded of how wretched she must feel, because it's exactly how I feel. I rest my forehead against hers, grateful for her company when our parents' existence has been stripped from our lives. We drift off in one another's arms, breathing in unison, our hearts beating as one unit of amity.