Prologue
Anna struggled to put one foot in front of the other as she made her way slowly back to the castle from the hill where they had memorialized her parents. If she had been able to look at them, she knew she would have seen that the inscriptions in the stones were still fresh, telling the story of two kind and caring rulers who were beloved by their kingdom, who had been lost too soon in a tragedy at sea.
Anna knew, on an intellectual level, that they were gone. But her parents were the ones who had talked her through every hard time in her life. And no time had ever been as hard as this. She couldn't process it, couldn't believe it, without them there to confirm that it was true, and guide her through what to do next.
She had no idea what to do. The servants had helped her with the logistics of the memorial ceremony, with written instructions from her sister Elsa passed underneath Elsa's door to the Royal Advisor. Anna had snatched each note away as soon as it was passed under the door, dying to read Elsa's words and mourn with her sister, but the notes were brief and held no hint of emotion – just instructions: Invite all the townspeople to the memorial, hold the memorial at dawn, etc. Anna had even written her own notes to Elsa, begging her to let Anna into her room so they could hold each other and cry, even just for a minute. But those notes had gone un-acknowledged and un-answered.
Even so, Anna's dragging feet brought her back to Elsa's door when she returned to the palace after the memorial ceremony. She knew Elsa had found her annoying since childhood, and hadn't wanted to be anywhere near Anna since they were little children, but she still brought her hand up and knocked on the door, hoping against hope…
"Please, I know you're in there," she begged. "People are asking where you've been. They say have courage, and I'm trying to…I'm right out here for you. Please let me in." She waited a moment before her body gave out and she slumped on the floor, leaning on Elsa's door. She felt so, so alone. And if she felt alone, surrounded by caring servants, castle staff, and townspeople, she couldn't imagine how alone Elsa felt in her room with no one to talk to. She couldn't imagine why Elsa would choose to isolate herself this way, but she knew it wasn't healthy to try and get through a tragedy like this alone, especially when you have a loving sister ready to offer you support as you grieve together. She would be letting down their parents if she abandoned Elsa now. She had to keep trying. And if Elsa opened the door, she vowed she wouldn't be annoying, distracting, or too loud, or any of the qualities she had that she imagined had caused Elsa to start ignoring her in the first place.
"We only have each other now," she continued, tears in her voice. "It's just you and me. What are we going to do?" Quietly, as a last ditch effort, she whispered the only words that had ever tempted Elsa to spend any time with her. "Do you wanna build a snowman?" Playing in the snow had been their favorite activity together as children – the one thing that would tempt Elsa away from her responsibilities, to come play with her annoying little sister instead. Anna knew all her flaws. She knew her support was a pitiful excuse for that of her parents, as Elsa prepared to take the throne when she came of age. But she would do whatever it took to be better, to be someone that Elsa could love and rely on, and want to spend time with. She just needed Elsa to open the door.
But there was no response from behind the door. Anna drew up her knees, held herself and sobbed, shivering in icy cold despair.