Anna woke blinking away black spots in her vision, feeling her head pound like a contingent of soldiers was marching through her skull. Her throat was sore and her mouth felt parched; but she could barely swallow. Alcohol was evil. At least she wasn't cold, though. . .

Because a rather familiar overcoat was draped over her shoulders. Anna slid it off, recognizing it as the one Hans had been wearing, and nearly panicked until she checked herself and saw she was still fully dressed. Nothing had happened. Once she calmed down she could remember everything anyway. They had been drinking, and then drinking some more, and then Hans had told her to stop, which was probably wise because she collapsed not long after.

Where was Hans, then? She looked around the kitchens, but there was no sign of the prince. Anna was more than a little disappointed that he ditched her, but it made sense that he left after she blacked out. No more alcohol for her. She pushed against the edge of the table to rise to her feet and then shook her head to clear her thoughts. It did little except make her even dizzier. Anna bowed her head, and only then did she see a slip of paper tucked under the candleholder.

She took the paper and slowly unfolded it.

It's a pity that I can't stay with you, Anna. Because I'm afraid... I'll really fall in love with you.

Don't worry; I haven't yet, not quite. I know your heart belongs with another. It's just that your heartfelt advice touched me deeply. From now on, please try not to make a man feel touched, because he will end up falling for you. I have gone too far already. I cannot afford to be distracted, but thank you regardless.

Finally, I would like to offer you some advice as well, though I know you will not heed it. You told me that love from the heart "just has to be," but that, while precious, is also a path of no return. Especially in the case of Queen Elsa, someone who even I cannot fully understand. But, knowing you, something as simple a matter as that won't stop you.

Take care.

"Is it that obvious that I. . . ?" Anna sighed and crumpled the paper in her hands.

Who was she kidding? Everyone knew, and if Anna would stop lying to herself for one second, even she realized exactly how she felt about Elsa. Love from the heart was something that just had to be. Where had those words come from? She had hated Elsa, and then puzzled over her, cried for her, hurt because of her, but she had never wanted to give up.

It just. . . had to be that way.

Anna stumbled out of the kitchens, unsure if her dizziness was from hangover or the revelation that she had fallen in love with Elsa. Queen Elsa, the same queen who had conquered Arendelle, but also the same one who had tended to her wounds, protected her from harm, and done nothing but care for her.

Anna needed to see her again.

"It's already so late. . . " Out of the enclosed kitchen, Anna looked out the windows and saw the moon shining bright in a perfectly cloudless sky. It had been evening when she decided to get drunk. It had to be a ridiculous hour now. "Where can she be?"

She needed to set things right again.

Anna walked back to their room and carefully opened the door, but it still creaked with a dull groan and she winced at the irritating noise. When Anna peered in, she saw an empty bedroom with no sign of Elsa. Not entirely surprising. Anna's next try would be the study, but she had a feeling Elsa wouldn't be there either, not after that fiasco. There was a way of making sure, but would it be an invasion of privacy?

Desperate times called for desperate measures. Anna closed her eyes and reached for that same bright spot in the corner of her mind she had prodded at only once before. Last time, she had recoiled. This time she pushed further, feeling the link expand between them and more and more foreign thoughts pour through to her mind. It was absolute turmoil. On the other end was nothing but a maelstrom of confusion and loss, spiraling together until thoughts had neither beginning nor end. All from Elsa. . .

A part of Anna hadn't been expecting it to work, but through the tumultuous thoughts appeared a hazy image of Elsa standing at the balcony.

Anna pulled away sure she would be disoriented, but instead the headache of her hangover had vanished entirely and she was more determined than ever before. She raced to the main hall and up the spiral stairs, though her steps slowed when she realized she was retracing the exact same path she had taken to the tower. Dej´ a vu, but she wouldn't let that stop her. ` Picking up her pace again, Anna opened the doors and stepped outside to the balcony.

….

It was cold that night, even colder than usual and focused, somehow, so that the wind felt like the edge of a serrated blade. Even though she raised her arm as a shield, her eyes still watered from the buffeting of the fierce gale. She may as well have been walking into a hurricane. But maybe she really was, and she was headed for its source.

But Anna didn't feel cold, not when she only had eyes for who lay ahead. Standing only a few steps away was Elsa, looking out with her back towards her and hands resting on the edge of the balcony. A forest of dead trees stood beyond the outlook, what should have been a treeline of thick, abundant foliage reduced to little more than brittle branches. They twisted and contorted at grotesque angles, bent by wind and battered by snow into a visible expression of pain. Nothing survived outside.

"I thought I felt something," Elsa murmured, not looking back as Anna approached, and slowly the wind calmed to a light breeze. "I could feel it when you tried to reach out to me."

"I'm really sorry about that, but. . . I needed to know where you were."

"It was fine. It felt warm."

"Can I join you?" Anna asked. Elsa nodded, again without looking back. Anna turned and leaned her back against the railing so that while Elsa faced outwards, she faced the castle. It was probably cowardice, to address the wall, but just hearing Elsa's voice was more than she could bear. The Elsa she had met— regal, proud, beautiful and horribly powerful as ice blasted from her fingertips over and over again—had been someone she feared and admired: a woman who was more than mortal, the storm itself, the goddess.

Powerful as Elsa was, she was just lost and Anna felt pain in the very depths of her heart.

"Why are you out here?" Anna asked softly.

"I don't know. A lot of reasons," Elsa said.

"Do you want to tell me?"

"That's unusually hesitant for you."

Anna lowered her head and let her foot shuffle back and forth, silent because she couldn't find the right words. There wasn't a way to say exactly what she felt, not without devolving into a rambling, incoherent mess. "Well, I—I've learned my lesson. About earlier, I—"

"I apologize about before. I overreacted. It won't happen again."

There it was, the ubiquitous apology. Anna had been expecting it, and not just because she had heard it so many times. Elsa only ever apologized to keep distance. She would never apologize to anyone but Anna because there was no one else who might be able to get close. Anna could recognize now how every time Elsa had said those same words before, she had been trying to push her away.

"You didn't overreact, I pushed you," Anna said.

"I should have been able to stay in control," Elsa said.

"Just because you became upset doesn't mean you lost control. Everyone can get that way sometimes, so don't try and shut it out along with everything else— " Anna took a deep breath. She was doing it again, pushing too hard without a thought. There was a time and a place. "Let me start over, all right? I should be the one to say sorry. I wasn't thinking."

"Apology accepted."

Coming from that deadened voice, Anna may as well have heard the opposite for all that it mattered. Elsa wasn't angry. Hearing anger would have been a relief, because it was worse, much worse, to hear that flat monotone. Elsa just didn't care anymore. She was giving up again.

"You didn't tell me why you're up here," Anna said. Her eyes roamed up, to the tip of the tower, and her mind went to what, and who, resided there.

"...It's so perfect." Elsa tilted her head and Anna turned to follow her gaze instead to the moon, pale and flawless and bathing the tress below so that even their deadened husks glowed with ethereal white light. "You asked me about the Mirror, and I wonder the same. How is it that I'm connected to it? But then, there are so many similarities between us. We're both fractured and unrecognizable. Does the Mirror dream of the beauty of the moon, I wonder?"

"It's only perfect this far away," Anna said. "If you look closely, anything has its flaws. It's just natural."

". . . Just natural," Elsa said. She bowed her head. "Do you ever wonder about something as simple as who you are?"

"No," Anna said.

"You never had to, because you're Princess Anna of Arendelle. But I..." Elsa exhaled a shaky laugh, the rustle of dead reeds on a dry river bank. "Who am I? Am I the peasant, Elsa of Arendelle, or Queen Elsa of the Southern Isles?"

Anna stilled.

"You didn't see it, then. I wondered why you hadn't asked," Elsa said, and this time her laugh rang clearer so that, just as in the morning, Anna was struck by the beauty of her voice. Only in the opposite way. A voice such as hers could imbue words with colors, textures. Hearing such a wry, bitter sound come from her lips felt horribly wrong, somehow made it more perverse. "I was born to Vagn and Elmira, common peasants who lived on the outskirts of the kingdom of Arendelle. Then I was raised Princess Elsa of the Southern Isles, because I was gifted with a curse and could find no solace elsewhere."

"Is that why you asked me so much about Arendelle?"

"No. I never cared about that wretched place," Elsa said. "It was where I was born, where my curse manifested itself, and nothing else. If I could choose, I would blot out that connection as well."

Another time, Anna might have tried to defend Arendelle, might have bristled at her home being called wretched. But knowing what had happened. . .

No. Elsa had every reason to despise Arendelle.

"You think of your powers as a curse?" Anna asked instead.

"Does it matter? For all I know, these powers could be. I don't know why I have them."

"It's magic," Anna insisted. She clenched the railing until the skin of her knuckles was drawn so tight it felt ready to split apart. "It can be beautiful if you would just let it be. There's nothing to hide, nothing to be ashamed of. It's part of who you are, Elsa."

"It was beautiful. And once, I was enamored by the possibility," Elsa agreed. Then her voice harshened like the crack of a whip. "But you're forgetting who I really am." A hum droned from behind, and Anna turned to see a ball of electricity resting at the tip of Elsa's index finger. She flicked it forward and a bolt of lightning tore across the sky with an ear-splitting crack.

Anna turned away.

"Are you trying to prove something?"

"I destroy, I kill, and I don't regret it. A part of me enjoys it. Can you understand that, Anna?" Elsa asked. Although her tone was flat, nothing could mask the surge of viciousness Anna felt in her heart: the thrill of adrenaline singing in her veins when she was in control, the glory of power when she saw those who feared her at her mercy. For too long, it had been the other way around.

Not so long ago, knowing that would have disgusted her. Anna had never thought her answer would be the one she was about to give.

"Yes, I can."

Elsa paused. And then: "How can you?"

They had both avoided the subject long enough, taken every conceivable opportunity to ignore what lay so blatantly in front of them. Ever since Anna woke up with a shard of Elsa's heart embedded in her own, not once had they ever talked about the memories. Anna hadn't known how to breach it. Elsa had been content to let them fade away again. Not anymore.

"I saw everything," Anna murmured.

"Pity, then," Elsa said cuttingly. "I don't need it. I'm not that weak child anymore at the mercy of others. Nothing can hurt me now."

"It's not pity. I was there, I felt what you felt. I still feel what you feel now," Anna said. Her hand fluttered up to rest over her heart, feeling the throb of their pulse against her fingers. She could feel every emotion as strongly as if she lived through it herself, the fear, the hate, the desperation. "And maybe I still don't understand completely, but I never will if you won't let me. I'm trying, Elsa."

"Then try if you can. Tell me how I feel," Elsa challenged.

"I will."

"And what if you're wrong?"

The half-threat lingered in the air like smoke and honey, the echo of a dirge.

"I won't be wrong. I know you," Anna said.

Elsa said nothing, and Anna took that as permission to continue.

"At first I thought you hated being different, but that's not true. You... loved your magic. You still love it." No matter how much Elsa had yearned to be accepted, she had never once considered abandoning her gift in exchange. Anna knew that. How could she not, when the memory of Elsa's awe at her own ability was burned into her heart? It had been the most beautiful thing in the world, and it always would be.

Again Elsa said nothing. Anna continued.

"But what you loved wasn't power." It was the song of the snowflakes she had craved, the dancing of snowmen, never the drone of war and the smell of bloodsoaked ice. "You wanted to create, not destroy, and that's why it hurts, because..." Anna paused. Maybe it was just her imagination, but she thought she felt her heart skip a beat. It certainly wasn't her imagination that frost was beginning to ice over the railing and down. She could see it spreading under her feet. "You can't anymore."

Anna tightened her grip on the railing, feeling ice crunch under her hand.

"Nothing hurts," Elsa said, deigning to speak at last and so carefully measured in her tone it became obvious just how close Anna had hit. "Maybe what you're saying used to be true but I have control now, I would sacrifice whatever childish, naıve ¨ aspirations I had for this power—"

"Then why did you run away this morning?" Anna asked.

Elsa stiffened. "I didn't run away."

Anna smiled sadly. "You're always running away, Elsa."

"From what?"

"Yourself," Anna said, and she could ignore the throb in her heart, the sting of truth that made her want to break something, because she knew that was Elsa and not her. "You repressed your emotions just so you could get away from the memories. Is it so hard to admit?"

She heard Elsa exhale heavily.

"Please just be truthful with me. Please," Anna whispered.

". . . Yes," Elsa admitted, speaking hurriedly now, desperate and out of breath though she no longer even needed it. "Designing was the only thing I had, Anna, the one thing I had that made me think maybe, just maybe, I wasn't a monster; and then I mutilated myself, I threw it away. I need to have made the right choice."

"It wasn't your fault."

"Wasn't it, really? I made my choice; I don't deserve to regret it."

"It wasn't your choice. Maybe you thought it was, but you never had one." Anna could feel that Elsa wanted to question her, but she wouldn't be sidetracked because she knew that was a battle she couldn't win, not yet. "You're not letting yourself be yourself."

"...What are you saying?" Elsa sighed with an ageold weariness, one that was enshrined in her soul. Anna knew Elsa wanted this conversation to stop. She wouldn't allow it.

"You're right that there's nothing to pity," Anna said. "Everything that happened to you—I wish it never happened, but I don't pity you. It made you who you are, all of that was a part of you, until you decided to pretend like it never happened."

She wasn't sure how their conversation had taken this turn. Anna had intended to apologize, not blame, and yet here she was feeling utter fury that Elsa had willingly destroyed part of herself. But not at Elsa. She didn't blame Elsa. She was angry for her, but not at her.

Elsa clenched her jaw, so tightly Anna could hear a slight grind where her teeth gnashed together. "Is that so wrong?"

Anna could easily say no. That was the answer Elsa wanted and the answer that didn't push her, the answer that would guarantee things become normal between them again, and they could go on as they had before. And what Elsa did was understandable. It was almost right. Was it really wrong to try to be someone else, when everything that made you, you, was so painful?

"Yes. You. . . "

You used to be more than this. You were more tan just your powers because you could choose, but now you let yourself become a weapon. This isn't what you wanted. This isn't magic. This isn't you.

It was an impulse to forgo speech and just think, think as hard as she could and hope Elsa would hear her and feel what she felt. Words weren't enough, not truly. Words were weak. Emotions and impressions, abstract thoughts and sensations, feelings, those were the messages she sent Elsa.

Be yourself. Feel. Don't conceal.

Elsa leaned forward and took in a deep, shuddering breath. She made no other indication that she had heard, but Anna knew she had and that was enough. Elsa said nothing for a long while, until—

"He told me to kill you, twice now."

Such silence fell over them both that Anna was sure the only sound came from her breathing, and even then it felt as though they had stepped through to an empty void. She didn't need to ask to know who. Elsa would only take orders from one person. Anna asked simply, "Why?"

"Because you are a distraction," Elsa answered.

"Am I?"

"Yes."

"What else did he say?" Anna asked.

"He said that you would destroy everything, that you would ruin me."

"Have I?"

"Yes," Elsa answered, urgently. "You've shattered me all over again, utterly and completely. Whatever peace I had found, I've lost because of you."

Anna raised her chin as though baring her neck and awaiting her fate, but she did so in challenge and trust. "Then are you going to kill me?"

"I won't," Elsa said. Anna felt her heart skip a beat, this time of her own accord, at the vehemence in Elsa's tone. "No matter what anyone says, I won't kill you."

"You said it yourself that you enjoy it," Anna said. "Why am I any different?"

"It's not—I don't. . . " Elsa swallowed. "You're Anna."

"Is that all you're going to say?"

"What do you want me to say?"

Anna shook her head. "It's not that I want you to say something in particular. I just want you to say what you feel, because I know you still can. Or if you can't say it out loud, at least admit it to yourself."

"Why—?"

"I'm not going to tell you one thing and do another. I'm going to do what my heart tells me, and say what I need to say." Anna closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I—I love you." Elsa didn't respond, but Anna had expected as much so she put on a brave smile.

"Maybe I'm being stupid, but I do. I'm sorry if I misunderstood your feelings. I thought you. . . " Anna laughed. "Never mind."

She had done all that she could for Elsa, and now it was time for her to make her own decisions. Anna began to walk away.

Until she felt Elsa wrapping her arms around her, pulling her back.

"Why do you have to force me?" Elsa asked, and for the first time her voice shook. "I-I've tried so hard to deny it. I want so much to just let you go, I don't want to ever hurt you. Ever since the day I met you, my heart. . . I couldn't push it away or hide from it anymore. Because of you, I. . . " Elsa loosened her hold.

She had fought to look away before. It was impossible now. Anna turned to look at Elsa and saw tears welling in her red-rimmed eyes, sliding down her face, but Elsa made no sound, no move to wipe them away. Whatever defenses she had built up were gone, leaving her gaze vulnerable but gentler, softer. Anna silently brushed Elsa's tears away, thumb gently tracing over soft skin.

"All I want is to lean on you. I was taught never to rely on anyone. I was told that dependency makes me weak. But. .." Elsa smiled through her tears. "But when I see you, I become not like myself. No matter what I do, I just can't pretend anymore, I don't know who I am, I—"

Anna pulled Elsa into an embrace. Elsa held on and leaned her forehead against her shoulder, finally breaking down into quiet sobs. Anna could feel her entire body trembling against her and held on tighter.

"It's okay. You don't have to say anymore," Anna murmured. "No matter what happens. . . "

You're still my Elsa.