I stopped seeing her after that. She still sang to me in the night, there were still snowmen in unexpected places, but I could tell Anna was shaken; she was afraid to show herself. That's what I thought. Never mind that I was wrong, in the end, but that's what I thought. It gave me confidence. Kristoff visited frequently. He passed on the message from his mysterious family that they wanted to meet me, but of course I couldn't do that. Anna had backed off, but that didn't mean she wouldn't still panic and lash out if I left. So I stayed, and he continued to visit, and something like peace came into my life. I could live this way, with Anna just quiet background noise, "Do you wanna build a snowman?"
I even made some effort to clean up the castle, but there wasn't much I could do. Kristoff noticed, though, and began to help. He was much more skilled than I, and helped to tear up soggy carpets, leaving slightly damp wood beneath. It wasn't perfect, but some of the smell dissipated, and once the home-improvement was underway I began seeing even more of Kristoff. Sure, he talked to his reindeer, but he was so unfazed by things that had plagued me all my life, looking at the world though a lens of optimism and hope. Having him in my life made me feel a little less haunted.
When I was sixteen, I was paid a visit by the Duke of Weselton. He seemed immensely surprised when I opened the door at his knock. Had I known it would be him, I wouldn't have, but Kristoff hadn't arrived for the day and I was expecting him.
He brought the news that, since I was still alive despite the ruin of the castle and the near total shut-down of Arendelle, other kingdoms would be expecting a coronation when I came of age. The gates would open, the people of all the other kingdoms would stream in, and I would never again be able to avoid responsibility for the ruin of this town. Then the Duke gave one more sweeping look of disgust at me and the decrepit castle and left. He called one final time over his shoulder that if the doors of the castle did not open on my eighteenth birthday, if there was no coronation, there would have to be a new ruler of Arendelle, a new inhabitant of this filthy castle, and probably a war for it. Then he was gone.
When Kristoff arrived about an hour later, he found me in a state of panic. How could I open the doors of this castle and let others into this nightmare? How could I become queen and rule this broken kingdom? How could I ever take control of this situation?
Obviously Kristoff and I couldn't get this castle up to international par by ourselves in two years. Tentatively, I dipped into my parents' fortune for the first time and hired professionals. They were a huge team of big, burly men with carriage after carriage full of supplies: paint; wood; tapestries; shingles; window panes; carpets; furniture and paintings to replace what was lost. They were miracle workers; we were lucky to have them.
Letting them in the door that first day was terrifying. We ensured they kept strict daylight-only hours, and at the slightest hint of Anna we ushered them out early. We were lucky they were so obliging, lucky we were helped considerably by the money my parents left behind. And yet, without Kristoff there to help, to have the confidence to speak to the construction workers, to reassure me when I got scared, I would never have made it through those two years. He brought news from outside the castle every time he came, and our friendship became closer and closer, and I could feel myself distancing from Anna, from fear, and from my personal hell. It was the strangest thing; I was beginning to enjoy living despite the fear. I was, amazingly, happy.
But the date of coronation was fast approaching. And though the castle was looking royal again, and Anna hadn't done a single thing while the construction men were there, I worried. The men finished their work three months before the date. The last tapestry was hung, the last despairing chair was replaced, and they were gone. I had gathering dread for that night.
Anna had been shrieking ever louder as the castle neared completion. She didn't like the change, didn't like the way the shiny new floors reflected the sunlight, brightening the rooms. She didn't like the drapes that were hung and parted wide, allowing a sense of cheeriness into her haven of darkness. She didn't like the wood that had been stacked neatly into the fireplaces in preparation for guests. She didn't like any of it, and she was very vocal about that. I could only hide in my room, light a fire, and await the coming darkness as the sun sank below the mountains.
Not a single noise other than the settling of the practically new castle broke the silence that night. I measured time in my pounding heartbeat, although I now had all manner of working clocks adorning the freshly painted walls. I couldn't sleep; the silence pounded at my ears with a fury to rival the howling of my sister. Eventually, though I knew it was foolish to leave my fluffy, clean sheets, I climbed out of bed.
I no longer used my childhood bedroom, nor one of the guest rooms. This castle was mine. I slept in the new master suite. But that old bedroom was where I looked for Anna first, even tentatively calling out to her. There was no response, no echo of singing, and I realized that if I were truly looking for Anna, there was only one place to go.
The ballroom was restored to, perhaps even surpassing, its former glory. But although it smelled of fresh paint and lacquer instead of mildew and decay, it was not the same room my sister and I had played in as children. There was no special chill to the air or feeling of eyes on me, but I would never be comfortable in this room. I knelt in the spot where I had last held Anna, where she'd died, and stared up at the ceiling.
"Are you here, Anna?"
The sound was quickly absorbed by the silence.
"Anna?" Suddenly I felt the urge to sing to my sister. Though she was a demon ghoul from hell, though I'd been trying to get rid of her for years… I missed her. "Do you wanna build a snowman? Or ride our bikes around the halls? I think some company is overdue; I've started talking to the pictures on the walls! It gets a little lonely, all these empty rooms, just watching the hours tick by! Do you wanna build a snowman? It doesn't have to be a snowman…" The ballroom was still silent. "Okay, bye."
I closed my eyes and lay still until I felt tired enough to crawl back into bed.
The three months to the coronation passed in the quiet of hushed nights with no singing, no screaming, and no yelling. The kingdom of Arendelle itself seemed to have gotten wind of the impending influx of visitors and was cleaning itself up and preparing. The castle received its second uninvited guest with a visit from the mayor of Arendelle, the person elected by the citizens after the death of my parents in a rudimentary democracy to keep the kingdom functioning. He was very polite, considering I, as princess, had let him and the rest of the citizens down. He offered to step down from the position after the coronation, but I had more of a collaborative effort in mind; after all, I knew next to nothing about the true duties of running a kingdom. Everything seemed in order for the big day.
The eve of the coronation arrived and I was incredibly anxious. Planners had been hired who staunchly refused to close the gates before dark, early evening was the best they could promise, and the events could possibly run later. Of course I couldn't explain Anna to them, so I could only bite my nails and hope that the quiet peace I had been enjoying would hold out. Not that it especially mattered, what with some guests staying for the night. One party was even staying the week due to travel considerations. I tried not to let that worry me. Perhaps Anna had disappeared with the last of the mould and mildew.