A.N.: So as I was struggling to come up with a sequel to Forbidden Friendship and getting nowhere but tied up in clichés, it hit me. Don't write one. Nevertheless, I loved the response FF got and I'm currently giving in to my obsession with these two (and avoiding working on Council revision). So I had a couple of ideas for stories like FF where I could explore the vast universe of Elsanna more deeply. So here's the first idea I came up with. I thankfully have several more, but I'm open to suggestions. Forbidden Friendship has become chapter 1.

All AU's will be in Arendelle, around the same time period as the movie, Elsa will always have powers and not all endings will be happy or even endings at all. Critical feedback on this will make me so happy. The reviews for FF had me in tears. Thanks guys. :)

Also, don't be shy to shoot an idea my way. If it strikes my imagination, I'll give it a shot!

So because I tried so hard on this one, I'm going to confess it is probably not of the same quality as Forbidden Friendship. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy it and leave me lots of feedback!

Song for this fic/alternate title: Something to Fight For by Sencit music

Summary: Death always collects in war. War is hell. But there is no reason why those caught in the cross-fire need to be enemies.

Hell-fractals

No one really knew why there was a war.

Arendelle was not a large kingdom, nor was it particularly wealthy, nor could it claim any strategic military advantage. There was not much worth fighting for except the everyday well-being of the citizens and the majesty of the fjord and surrounding mountains. So for centuries, the tiny kingdom enjoyed a peaceful existence, its citizens purchasing fish and vegetables at market, its farmers laboring in the fields, its rulers gently and firmly handling all disputes and foreign affairs. Life was comforting, if not entirely comfortable.

Then one day, it rained fire.

The common folk woke to find their cobblestone streets riddled with cannonballs, smoke blocking out the sun, flames licking at the wooden structures. Enormous ships filled the harbor, blocking in the merchants and fishermen, driving the navy into deeper waters. Soldiers came ashore in endless waves, swords brandished, helms gleaming. Hundreds died in that first initial attack. Thousands more were left homeless, orphaned, injured or some combination of the three. Chaos became the new norm.

For over a month, no one could fathom why the fighting had started. Then slowly, like a pathogen, the truth spread among the masses. There had been news of a shipwreck several weeks prior, before the ships had arrived. But none of the common city-folk had seemed to realize at the time that said shipwreck had led the child-less Arendelle king and queen to their watery graves.

Needless to say, the vultures had descended as soon as that carcass was opened.

Arendelle had not had enemies per se but many of their allies were large, powerful empires who preferred to swallow their allies rather than trade with them. Now they squabbled over the ruler-less land like children, their armies clashing on the very thing they wished to claim, making no distinctions between enemy, ally or innocent bystander.

After three bloody, endless years of war, it was the empire of the Southern Isles that finally claimed Arendelle as its own.

The soldiers settled in the town, taking full advantage of the lack of military to claim ownership of the castle and the noblemen's lands surrounding, soaking up the spoils. The remnants of the defeated nations retreated to their homelands and the people slowly began to crawl back to the light.

That would have been the end of the conflict. A new king would have eventually risen from the ranks of the invaders, perhaps their young, charismatic, ruthless commander Prince Hans and the common folk would have eventually settled down again under new laws and learned to love their new overlords.

Except that some had chosen not to bend so easily. Remnants of the Arendelle army, noblemen who had been booted from their homes and farmers whose lands had been burned in the war descended from the forests, determined to drive out the soldiers and restore Arendelle to its former glory, never mind the lack of an heir. They stormed the city at random intervals, attacking soldiers, burning supplies and firing stolen cannons. The fighting was savage and brutal and could sometimes last for days with neither side gaining or losing much ground. It was a horrid stalemate where desperation met desolation and the flames of war burst to life in unpredictable spurts of heat, destruction and bloodshed.

And while these dogs fought and snarled at each other over the feast, it was the mice under their feet struggling for the smallest tidbits who suffered the most.

Elsa had been born before the war. But it defined her life from the moment she drew her first breath. The fighting had started when she was barely three months old and only lapsed once when she was about four. The next year, the rebels had organized and attacked and in the space of about an hour, she found her home destroyed, her parents dead and a long scar marring her right leg from mid-thigh to ankle.

Homeless, helpless and alone, she had taken to the streets and learned to survive. She stole food whenever she could and suffered the pangs of hunger when she couldn't. She learned the booms of the cannons and the crackling of fire even through the thick haze of sleep so that even if she'd been deep inside a dream, she could awaken and scamper from whatever hole she'd tucked herself into for the night to survive another day.

Death became a constant threat.

She was not fast or strong nor any more cunning than your average city orphan. In fights over food or sleeping spaces, she was more likely to snatch and flee or hide then face a fight head on. It was all about survival: take only the risks necessary to get that crust of bread to keep from starving, that blanket to keep the rain from soaking you completely through. Elsa lived her days alone in a haze of split-second decisions, each one a gamble for life.

But Elsa had one advantage that the others did not and it would ultimately save her life. An advantage she only discovered by nearly dying.

It happened how everything in war always happens: without warning or time to think.

Elsa had been in the main square outside the castle gates, waiting for the kitchen scraps from the castle to be thrown out the window so she wouldn't starve today.

She was nearing her tenth birthday and was in desperate need of a new dress to commemorate the occasion. Not for vanity, you'll understand, the only dress she currently owned she was wearing and it could hardly be called a 'dress'. She'd had it for two years, it was torn nearly to shreds and three inches too short in the sleeves and hem.

Bored and trying not to think about her dress or the pangs of hunger in her stomach, Elsa had instead begun observing the other children. Several other children had been waiting around her for their chance at castle scraps. All sorts gathered here: pudgy kids from further uptown who usually got by on bread crusts from the former baking district, dock hands who were as scrawny as the fish they caught and inner-city orphans in varying states of health and dress. Nothing took Elsa by surprise anymore, not even children missing several limbs painstakingly dragging themselves around on make-shift crutches. Such was war.

Today there was even one kid with a white streak in her hair. Gods knew how that had gotten there. Elsa only paid attention to it because it was the same color as her own hair. The child attached to it wasn't much to look at: scrawny and flea-bitten with hair that stuck up in every which way imaginable. The little white streak of hair danced among thick wisps of strawberry-blonde caked with mud, perfectly clean and defiant of everything that seemed to define its owner.

Bored as she was, Elsa couldn't help but be fascinated by it.

So focused was she on the streak, she didn't hear the tell-tale shriek of cannon-fire until it was nearly upon her.

In a moment of panic, she realized her predicament was hopeless: she was too exposed, there was nowhere to run. And there were too many people here, scattering in all directions. All the children around her were crying, screaming and running or standing in paralyzed fear. There was no time to think.

There was an intense flare of heat and the acrid smell of air burning as the projectile whistled towards them. This was the end. Elsa didn't know what came over her but quite suddenly she threw herself forward and folded her body around the child closest to her, the small, terrified girl with the white streak in her hair. She took a gamble and she won.

Later, those who survived the attack would describe the impossibility that had happened. As the small, white-haired child closed her arms around the smaller girl, the air around the square suddenly seemed to drop in temperature. Then again, anything was cold compared to the burning heat of the cannonballs.

When the smoke cleared, there was a giant sheet of ice curled around the place where the two children had been, slowly dripping onto the shrapnel on the street. The two girls were nowhere to be seen.

It was assumed neither had survived.

Elsa had taken the trembling girl to the caved-in shack where she had been planning to spend the night. Well not so much taken as dragged, the child hadn't let go of her arm since Elsa had pulled her out of the ice shield. Elsa would have been in shock about that too except for her concern about the child.

The girl was shaking so violently, Elsa could feel herself trembling in response. She seemed incapable of moving without Elsa's guidance.

The little girl only let go of Elsa when her legs gave out. And even then, she was practically sitting on Elsa's feet, making it impossible to move away. The poor child sat there, whimpering, sniffling and occasionally muttering to herself.

Elsa's own lack of response to the circumstances was scaring her more than the knowledge that death had almost grabbed her was. She'd never done anything like that before. She'd lost a gamble, she should have been dead, they both should have perished. Death had been cheated.

But that all seemed trivial when the reason for it was so impossible.

She'd made ice. From nothing.

Elsa examined her hands but they looked no different than normal. They felt a little cooler maybe but that could mean anything. She flexed her fingers and willed ice to form but nothing happened.

Elsa closed her palms and tilted her head back, thinking. Her life was an endless struggle: the struggle simply to live another day, to keep pushing through until some unknown future was bestowed upon her. She was always starting over, with the end in doubt as all she knew constantly was destroyed. Now she not only had another to push through that hell, she also had some kind of gift.

Unable to spontaneously return the ice, Elsa examined the lucky child she had saved.

She was not a native Arendellian, of that Elsa was certain. The sheer number of freckles on her face clearly indicated a more southern origin than Arendelle could claim and when she did speak, her accent was wrong.

The girl sniffled and buried her head further into Elsa's hip. She was one of them, Elsa realized. One of the children of the soldiers who had invaded and seen fit to spread his progeny around the town. These were the symbols of the destruction wrought by the war: a blending of two uncooperative cultures that existed no matter how hard others tried to stamp it out. Children like her were scum even to the scum of the streets. Elsa had seen Arendellian parents throw such children as these out of their cellars and barns into the cold and the cannon-fire for no reason other than spite. These were the first children to be killed by the Rebels on their raids.

But Elsa had known from the moment she'd thrown her arms around her, she could not abandon this child.

This was war. In wars, it was better to have allies than to be alone among enemies.

Softly stroking the child's hair, Elsa had asked her name. The child hadn't replied, staring up at the taller girl with wide eyes still swimming in tears. Elsa stared into them. They were a deep icy blue, identical to her own. If she hadn't been so certain this child was Southern Isles' scum, Elsa could've sworn she'd just found her long-lost sister.

Elsa had tried asking her name again in the Southern Isles' language, words of which she had picked up when scavenging near the nobles' lands. The girl had shaken her head and buried her face in Elsa's hip, the tiny white streak in her hair, twisting and flapping among her dirty mud-streaked locks.

She refused to look up, no matter what Elsa said or how she prodded her.

Frustrated, Elsa contemplated smacking the child to force her to cooperate. But the thought had barely formed in her mind when there was a sound outside. It was little more than a crash, perhaps a crate had fallen off of a merchant's cart or said cart had hit the side of the building. The girl had reacted to the crash as if another bomb had gone off. With a cry of pure fear, she threw her arms around Elsa's neck and buried her face into Elsa's shoulder.

Without any hint of shyness or trepidation of Elsa's powers. Trusting her completely.

Something surged through the small blonde girl as she held the younger girl's body close. Something inside of her grew until it filled her entire frame, sweeping away her past, cleansing her mind of everything that used to matter and filling it with a warm, flaring heat that made her feel older, stronger, bigger.

Elsa recalled the feeling as similar to that which had overcome her at the moment she jumped forward back in the square.

Immediately her hands grew cold.

Still holding the child against her, she opened her palm and a ball of snow that glowed with a soft blue light rose into the air. It drifted lazily upward, bathing the embracing girls in soft blue light. When it hit the sagging roof of their shelter, it burst, sending delicate snowflakes drifting down over the pair.

Elsa gently nudged the girl until she lifted her head. When the girl's eyes went wide with wonder and amazement, Elsa felt the feeling within her settle thickly over her limbs, painting her heart an entirely new color.

She didn't care at all.

She would never raise a finger against this girl. No matter the circumstance, for as long as she lived, she would protect this child.

The child gently caught a snowflake and watched it melt on her palm. Then she turned to Elsa, a question and an unspoken request in her eyes. Elsa understood immediately. Raising her hands again, she sent more snowflakes into the air. The action became easier with every repetition.

Finally, when the entire room danced with delicate snowflakes, the girl spoke for the first time.

"My name is Anna."

From that day on, Elsa took Anna with her everywhere. She couldn't seem to lose the girl, even for a second. Like a shadow, Anna clung to Elsa, stepping in her footprints and catching the corner of her eye. Not that Elsa minded in the slightest. War is hell and those who want to survive know that more hands make it easier to smoother the flames. Especially when one of those pairs of hands can conjure ice and snow.

Elsa taught Anna how to braid her hair, weaving the uncompromising white-streak into delicate patterns among the darker ones, like a snowflake dancing on an autumn breeze. She had to admit, when Anna's unruly hair was washed and braided, it was actually quite beautiful. The braids suited her: they were both beautiful and functional. Anna always smiled brightly when Elsa braided her hair. She could do it herself but almost always asked the older girl to do it instead. Elsa never said no. Braiding Anna's hair was one of the few things in this hell that made her relax. And it made Anna smile.

The two of them became a pair, making survival into a game that they won ceaselessly.

Snatching food and necessities were easier when one of them could cause a distraction: Elsa with a little snow or Anna with her uncanny ability to draw every eye to her either with her singing and dancing or her clumsy habit of completely unintentionally knocking large things over.

Nothing and no one was safe from their antics. They stole fresh bread from the bakers, shoes off of the cobbler's feet and even dresses from seamstresses. Some of the townsfolk began to whisper but the activities seemed harmless enough. They weren't hurting anyone, just struggling to survive like everyone else. Finding snowmen in the middle of summer was no longer a shock to the people of Arendelle. So they let them be.

Elsa, a child who had never known real joy, suddenly found she knew what happiness felt like. She had to admit, with a friend, life became so much brighter.

The two of them lived together, moving around the city, dodging attacks, surviving.

The bombings were still scary times for the younger girl but Anna coped with her fear the only way she knew how: by wrapping Elsa's arms around herself and letting the older girl protect and comfort her until the danger or nightmare had passed.

When Anna wasn't afraid, she gave Elsa hope. While there was plenty of fire in hell, none burned brighter than little Anna.

Anna smiled far more often than a child of war should have been capable of. She found beauty even among the horrors around them, pointing out both interesting patterns of shrapnel damage on buildings as well as delicate flowers springing up through the broken cobblestones. Small animals loved her and often flocked to her, even at night as they slept. She regularly sang and ran even when such things were not necessary.

At night, whenever the Northern Lights appeared through the smoke, she would poke Elsa awake without fail and sit on top of her until the older girl took her outside to look at them.

But all these things did nothing but make Elsa's heart grow for her. To her, Anna was an angel lost in the wrong realm. An angel Elsa had been charged to protect.

Elsa practiced with her newfound gift endlessly, determined to always be able to protect Anna. She no longer cared about her own day-to-day survival. Anna had taken the paramount position in her life. On nights when they couldn't steal enough food, she went hungry to ensure Anna had enough. All her clothes, except the ones she needed to wear went to the younger girl even if they were too big. Elsa gave up her sturdy black shoes to Anna and went barefoot even in winter.

Elsa didn't care.

She had finally found something to fight for.

Inevitably there were others who joined their little group: Kristoff the grubby woodsboy and his pet reindeer Sven who had fled their homeland when the rebels invaded them, Olaf the clingy toddler who had nearly died in a fire and hugged Anna tightly every time he saw her. Kai the little servant's child who lost his way after a cannonball sent a piece of shrapnel through his left eye, and Gerda, a kind soul with burned hands who always knew where to find food on account of the fact that her parents had been Arendelle's best bakers.

They were survivors. Children of war. Victims of the unholy doctrine of the generations before them.

Anna made such friends very easily, just as assuredly as she drew breath and she always brought them back to Elsa, almost like she was seeking her approval. Elsa cared for all of them without question and helped them find their way out of hell or survive it as best as possible. But it was always Anna who came first.

Anna always got the extra crumb of bread, even though she usually gave it to one of the others. Anna always slept next to Elsa at night, with the older girl's arms wrapped protectively around her. Anna always got the ice first if one of them was burned by a blast.

Elsa's favoritism of Anna was far from secret, if anything it was the most obvious thing about her. If the others cared about this, they said nothing. They saw the look in Elsa's eyes when Anna was smiling, the pain when Anna was suffering. They noticed the way Elsa always took Anna's hands in her own and how Elsa's hugs belonged only to her. No one complained but several knowing smiles were shared.

It was hard to deny Anna's innocent charm and pull. And soon to them, Anna became their lives as well.

One day Elsa, Anna and Kristoff had been stealing bread from a bakery that was mercifully still running when the screaming had started.

Elsa hadn't even waited to see who was attacking who or what this time, she'd grabbed Anna around the waist, making the girl drop the loaves she'd snatched and half-pushed, half-thrown her to Kristoff. Kristoff wasn't even surprised; he'd grabbed the girl and like a well-practiced drill, dashed out the door with her in his arms and tossed her onto Sven's back.

Sven had dashed away, despite Anna's protests for him to stop, to go back and rescue the others. The reindeer had only slowed when he'd reached the shelter of the grounded ship where they, Olaf, Kai and Gerda had been planning to stay that night.

Anna had been ready to dash back out to save them but Sven prevented her from doing so, no matter how hard she tried.

Gerda took her hands and Olaf wrapped himself around her leg as Kai and Sven watched for their friends. All they could do was wait as they listened to the far away sounds of the other side of the city burning and try not to imagine the worst.

When Elsa and Kristoff finally returned to the shelter two hours later, grimy but otherwise unhurt, Anna had tackled Elsa around the middle and cried unceasingly.

"Don't ever do that again!" She sobbed, clinging tightly to Elsa as the older girl's heart broke. "Don't leave me on my own."

Elsa brushed Anna's bangs back from her face. She promised that she never would.

Sensing that the two of them would not need company, Kristoff ushered the others further into the ship, glancing back with a small smile on his face as the two embraced completely.

Elsa held Anna tightly, small tremors racking her body as the events of the day caught up to her.

When she'd heard the scream, her only thought had been for Anna. The roof had collapsed just as Sven ran off. If they had waited even a second more, Anna would have been buried in the rubble.

The only thing that had helped her climb out of the wreckage of the bakery and run past the attacking soldiers was the knowledge that Anna was alive. That at least she had made it home safe.

That was all she needed to know.

Elsa sobbed quietly into Anna's shoulder, determined to hide her fear and her tears from the younger girl. As strong as Elsa was around the younger girl, such close scrapes with Death frightened her. She knew Death was coming to collect payment from when she'd saved Anna the first time, angry that she had taken the angel away from him.

But so long as Anna was still alive, Elsa knew she could die happy. She would gladly trade her life for Anna's if Death gave her that option.

The two of them eventually cried themselves out and sank to the floor, still tangled up in their embrace.

Elsa kept apologizing, murmuring reassurances against Anna's hair. Eventually, they ended up sprawled on the floor, still wrapped tightly together, tears drying into hard tracts on their faces.

It was then that Anna tilted her head up slightly and touched Elsa's lips with her own.

It was barely more than a gentle brush of lips, something two close friends or sisters might do as a parting gesture.

But Elsa didn't feel like it was supposed to be taken that way.

Several years passed and Elsa grew into a graceful, smart, respected young ruffian of the street. Many of the orphans knew her and respected her for her kindness and the icy gift that she readily shared. She had become a sort of ruler among the street children. Ice Queen some called her in excited, hushed whispers. If anyone had nowhere to go or nothing to eat, the Ice Queen was the person you sought out for help.

Now approaching 18, Elsa was thin, pale and beautiful, her flawless platinum hair and piercing icy blue eyes turning the heads of both men and women as she walked down the street.

Anna had grown up as well: her hair had lengthened into two long braids that slapped her shoulders when she skipped down the street. Her legs were long and lithe from all her years of running and dancing and her skin was tanned from hours spent outside. She was almost 15, but in many ways she was still the same little girl Elsa had taken in all those years ago. She still could not sleep without Elsa pressed against her, she still trusted the older girl and loved her unconditionally. She still woke Elsa up every night the lights were visible. She was still adorably clumsy and full of bright fire.

The two were inseparable and no one questioned it.

After years of careful practice, Elsa had gained considerable mastery over her powers, so much so that she had taken to building the orphans she cared for a tiny ice palace on the edge of the harbor where they ended up settling most nights. The number of orphans varied on a nightly basis, more tended to stay in the ice palace during the summer when it was too hot to sleep anywhere else. In the winter, only Anna would stay with her.

Kristoff and Sven were still with them of course and Olaf visited occasionally but Kai and Gerda had left to travel north several years back as stowaways on board a merchant ship. Elsa could only hope they had made it past the rebel blockades and to safety.

It was not often someone escaped hell.

Elsa had often thought of trying to escape herself. But where would she go? The North Mountain? She supposed that could work. It might actually be nice up there, away from hell. She could build herself a giant ice palace and revel in the freedom of being alone and safe from war.

But not without Anna of course. And she could never take Anna away from Arendelle. Although only half-native by blood, Anna belonged to Arendelle even more than Elsa did. It was her city. Anna knew passages around the city that even Elsa was not aware of. She was sometimes able to predict raids before even Sven's keen nose detected a whiff of smoke.

Elsa may be the Ice Queen but Anna was the Spring Princess. Everyone loved her, even if they did not know her name. Most simply knew her as Elsa's constant companion. But even that was enough for them to love her. It was her devotion to Elsa that helped those afraid of her powers overcome their apprehension to ask for help from the girl.

They occasionally shared kisses like the one they had all those years ago. But Elsa irrationally and selfishly longed for more. Anna had become so much more than just a friend to her, so much more than just someone she had to protect.

Anna had always been her whole world. Elsa had started to doubt that she had really existed before she'd thrown her arms around the frightened child in the square.

Caught up in her bliss, she had forgotten that she had stolen Anna from Death. And Death never forgot a debt.

It began as things in hell often do. Without warning.

Of course rumors about Arendelle's "ice witch" had spread among the people; citizen, soldier and rebel alike. From rumors had spun stories and stories had fathered fear.

At first, the rebels wanted her for their idolized New Arendelle. She would sit on the throne as their new queen, despite her simple upbringing. But then some began to fear that her powers could not be controlled. What if she killed them all? What if she became an icy tyrant?

The soldiers saw her as a threat. The one piece that could wrest their tenuous grasp on the kingdom from them. Or perhaps a weapon that might be useful.

Hell feeds fear and fear breeds desperation.

The attack came on a warm spring night.

Anna had been curled against Elsa, fast asleep when she suddenly jolted awake. That was odd for Anna because Elsa so often teased her for her ability to sleep through cannon-fire (a feat Anna had achieved several times, to Elsa's concern). While Anna excelled at anticipating attacks in daylight, Elsa and Kristoff were the ones who heard them through the haze of sleep. Anna usually only woke spontaneously when the sky did.

But the night was black and smoky tonight. No lights danced across the sky.

Anna didn't know why she had woken up and was about burrow closer to Elsa's reassuring heartbeat to drift back to sleep when she heard a sound cut through the silence and the dark.

A sound they all knew too well.

"Elsa!" She screamed, shaking the older girl.

Elsa's eyes had flown open. She hadn't asked any questions or made a sound. Suddenly, the floor under Anna grew slick and she began to slid away from Elsa. With a push, Elsa sent Anna sliding away from her, letting a hand linger briefly on Anna's shoulder as the younger girl left her grip.

Breaking her promise for the first time in ten years.

Anna struggled and fought but the ground under her was quickly becoming a slide, taking her down from the room her and Elsa shared, around the main staircase of the castle and down the back wall. Anna was half-way down the stairs before she could even whisper Elsa's name.

Sven and Kristoff were waiting at the bottom, almost as if they had anticipated such a thing happening. Before her feet even touched the ground, Kristoff had scooped Anna into his arms and jumped on the reindeer. They cantered away as the first cannon-ball hit the street.

Anna heard the screams of the children sleeping on the lower floors. She saw numerous cannonballs hit the entryway, blocking the main escape. She twisted in Kristoff's grip, pleading for him to take her back, to help them, to get back to Elsa.

The older boy had only tightened his grip. He'd always had a weak spot for Anna. But when her safety was on the line, his judgment grew far sharper and harder to break.

Elsa knew this of course. She also knew that one day, someone would come after her because of her powers. And when that day came, she'd have to break her promise to Anna.

From her vantage point in the palace's highest room, she saw Sven, Kristoff and Anna reach the old storage house across the docks that was their rendezvous point. All concern lifted from her heart as she saw Kristoff drag Anna inside, his arms wrapped tightly around the clearly struggling girl.

Kristoff would keep her safe, would keep her from running back to try to help while she saved as many of the others as she could.

What Elsa didn't know was where the cannons would be aiming.

She watched the roof of the storage house collapse as if in a dream. As flames licked at the wreckage of their safe haven, something inside the girl snapped.

The soldiers invaded the palace of ice, searching for Elsa, stepping over the carcasses of children or kicking aside those that remained alive.

It was so dark, no one could tell if they were rebels or Southern Isles soldiers.

Elsa didn't care. She heard the cries of the children and the guttural sound of blades meeting flesh as if through a thick haze. The booms of the cannons sounded like they belonged to another world.

Elsa was gone. All she could see was Anna's trusting face as she had pushed her away. Why hadn't she kept her promise? Then Anna would at least be here, beside her now. Still alive.

It didn't matter which side it was that caused the building to collapse. They were all in hell. There is no revenge or redemption.

The invaders burst into her room as snow began to swirl tightly around Elsa's form.

When they saw the look on her face, several of them felt all their resolve drain away.

Slowly, the Ice Queen turned to face the intruders.

Then Elsa screamed and the wall behind her exploded into millions of flying fractals of ice. Shrapnel from the Ice Queen. The invaders covered their eyes but the ice found its way into the tiniest of openings, piercing skin and clothes, expanding and growing. Several screams died in throats as ice invaded their mouths and choked the life from them.

Panicking, several of them who could still breathe charged the girl.

The ice was taking control of Elsa now, she couldn't have stopped it if she wanted to.

She rose to her feet, snow swirling tightly around her in a blizzard of anger and hate. With a sweep of her hand, they all went flying backwards. Several were pierced by long icicles that had risen from the floor. The ice became red.

Elsa only felt her anger.

One of those still alive tried foolishly to shoot her with an arrow. An icicle pierced his throat before he'd even touched the trigger.

Anyone who tried to attack her ended up impaled or frozen solid. None could touch her.

Elsa's power swirled inside her, mixing with her rage and began to flurry all around, making her feel bigger, stronger. Invincible.

The soldiers all fell before her, one by one.

She was the Ice Queen! She was a goddess raining judgment on these stupid humans.

She was…

Death.

Just as quickly and violently as it had come, all the fury and battle lust drained from Elsa. The snow swirling in the air all froze in place, as if time had stopped.

Elsa finally, really saw what had happened in the few moments where she had lost control.

The room was littered in corpses and discarded weapons, the walls were spattered in blood. Bodies hung propped up on the end of icicles that slowly dripped water and blood onto the floor.

It was hell.

She had become Death.

A single soldier remained alive in front of her, his sword held limply by his side. Resigned to his death by her.

Looking at him, the realization crashed over Elsa with the weight of a thousand cannonballs.

He hadn't fired the cannon. He hadn't cut Anna down or forced her into that building.

Death had collected. Anna was gone.

Elsa had taken Anna's life.

With a strangled cry, the entire ice palace split in two and crumbled to pieces.

Of course it hadn't been enough to kill her. Her own ice would not hurt her, no matter how much she wished it would.

Elsa stood firmly on the ground as if she hadn't just fallen two stories, surrounded by the pieces of her creation and the bodies of those whose blood was on her hands: the soldiers who had wanted to kill her and the children who had trusted her to protect them.

Blood ran in rivulets down the shards of ice, pooling all around her.

Truly, this was the real hell.

Just next to her, a single soldier, still mercifully alive, was struggling to free himself from under a thick beam of ice. With a flick of her hand, Elsa made it vanish. He sat up, dazed and clutching his sword. It was the same man from above: the soldier with thick auburn hair and bright green eyes who she had spared.

When those eyes saw Elsa, they filled with murderous intent.

Elsa only turned towards him, her hands at her sides. She was ready to die. Ready to see Anna again. Death could come and collect its debt now that it had had its cruel revenge on her, to hell with this petty, meaningless life of hers.

Why had she never kissed Anna the way she wanted to?

The soldier lashed out, the pommel of his sword catching Elsa on the side of the head.

Elsa reeled backwards and fell hard, tripping over one of the children's bodies as she clutched her head. Her vision swam and went blissfully blurry as the soldier raised his sword to finally deliver the death-blow. She could hear Anna's voice again. Death must be close…

As Elsa drew her last breath, gazing up at the eyes of the reaper, she could have sworn Anna was there. An angel lost in the midst of hell. Standing between…wait.

The realization hit her in the fraction of a second before her world ended.

Anna was alive.

Anna was between Elsa and the soldier, her arms spread wide, staring down at her, protecting Elsa the same way the girl had protected her all those years ago. She stood tall and firm, resolute like a statue. Her eyes blazed with defiance and love as the sword swung down.

Elsa had always protected her. Now it was Anna's turn.

Only Anna had no ice.

There was nothing to stop the blade.

At that very moment, the sun rose, painting the horizon a bloody red and casting an eerie illumination across the scene.

To the soldier, she was just another kill, another ended life to make them one inch closer to claiming their prize. Another splash of blood on the shattered cobblestones. Another body in the wreckage of the ice palace. One more of a vast number to pray to his god for forgiveness for.

To Elsa, helplessly watching as a beautiful fantasy morphed into a cold, hard reality, the loss was unfathomable beyond the descriptive power of mere words.

That day, the citizens of Arendelle who greeted the dawn had a new question they would never receive an answer to:

Why was it snowing in hell?

A.N.: Please listen to this song if you are not familiar with it. It is a beautiful, dramatic, heartbreaking piece of music that brought this to mind.

So kind of a similar set-up and plot to Forbidden Friendship but I wanted to place the girls in a desperate situation and see what happened. I guess this one kind of became more of an 'Elsa's devotion to Anna' kind of thing. I need to stop "killing" Anna…this is becoming a problem. I promise I will try to make my next one of these end on a happier note!

Was this better than Forbidden Friendship or was it somewhat lacking? Should I continue this one-shot collection?

Also, did anybody catch the Rent reference? Let me know if you did, it's kind of subtle. There also may or may not be an If/Then reference in here…not sure how many are familiar with that…point it out if you see it though!