Arendelle

Wine, it seems - is the only thing which helps Elsa cope. The empty glass, once filled with red comfort - now mocks her like the forethought to her impending grief. Her head spins beneath the dim candlelight in her chambers. Its ghastly aura lending to the shadows that torment her waking dreams. She can hear the spirits calling her name in whispers. She should've gone home weeks ago. But something else within these walls forces her to endure this tumultuous existence.

Or someone.

The knock on her door comes like clockwork. She doesn't answer - hoping her persistent silence will make Anna's daughter give up. But she underestimates Annette's patience. Stiffness courses through Elsa's body when the woman enters without calling out. Not alone. With a priest this time.

"Elsa." No ma'am. No Aunt. She detects a trace of annoyance in Annette's voice. And an anger in her footsteps as she clomps closer.

"Elsa," she repeats, "She's in pain. Clinging onto the last shreds of life. Why won't you go see her?"

Because you're selfish. You're a selfish horrid bitch who'd rather let your sister suffer because you can't bear the pain, can you? So much for fifth spirit-

"She's on her last legs," Father Christian continues, "I've given her the rites. All that is needed is-"

"-No."

The single word sending a chill through the room. And it's not her powers for sure. A snivel from Annette comes close to breaking Elsa's resolve. And she's teetering on the edge of giving in when the woman, earlier so poised and dignified in her grief, flings herself on her knees by Elsa's side. Slender fingers digging into her dress. Begging. Elsa turns away from the throbbing grief manifesting beside her. How cruel can you be? She curses the cruelty within her.

"Please," Annette begs, "if you won't do it for me. If you won't do it for yourself. Please - do it for her."

A glint catches her eye. She turns briefly, breath catching at the candlelight which refracts in a teary line down her freckled cheek. Annette appears cracked with grief. The oncoming death on the verge of shattering her. Her red crown braid is out of place from all the sleepless nights and her skin pale from hours spent by her mother's side. Like countless times in the past, she sees every trace of Anna in this woman. And it kills her to see Annette suffer like this.

Her resolve crumbles. Clenching her jaw and dispelling the snowflakes that follow the sparse footsteps to Queen Anna's bedroom. Her hands go cold even before she touches the polished brass handle. Metal fogging from the radiant frost she exudes. And when her fingers contact the gleaming metal - all their memories within that room come flooding back.

Riding that rocking horse across the icy bedroom floor.

That first night she slept over after Anna's coronation.

Stolen glances over tea.

That averted gaze when she asked how are things with Kristoff.

Their first kiss, and every one after that.

The arguments. All out-of-control and boiling over with seething rage.

Anna's broken, shaking voice as she screams her name in the throes of their passion.

The painful childbirths and joyous birthdays and heartfelt anniversaries they spent together.

And when she opens the door - she sees all that's left of Anna's lifetime lying on that bed. Laboured breaths shifting the cotton sheets like an immeasurable weight over her frail, wrinkled body.

"Elsa."

Oh god that voice - so fragile it sounds like Anna spent the last remnants of her strength to summon. She beckons to her side in an instant, wishing it were over just as quickly. But the gentle blues in Anna's sunken sockets clenches so hard at her chest. It makes her realise just how unprepared she is for this. She can't let go.

"I'm-I'm sorry," Anna croaks, "You have to see me like this."

Elsa's eyes fracture with tears, hot ones dribbling down her chin and wetting the sheets.

"No-"

"Don't, don't cry," Anna pleads, "I'm-"

"I'm here," Elsa reassures. Eyes fixed on Anna's fluttering shut - she fumbles through the sheets until she finds her wrinkled fingers. The warmth of her touch touches a smile to Anna's lips.

"Yes, yes, please, like this," Anna's breath fades, "I want to go like this."

Elsa's heart cracks at those words. Her sister senses the jolt in her hands immediately.

"Tell me," Anna asks, with the last of her strength, "What- what'd you do differently. With me."

An ugly frown scrawls across Elsa's face as she cradles her sister's - just like the last time she watched her die in the fjord years ago. No one should ever have to watch their loved one die twice.

"Nothing, nothing at all. I couldn't have asked for a better sister. A more passionate lover. A soulmate I never deserved or merited or-"

"Tell me-"

Elsa sucks in a breath as she feels Anna's frail strength pressing back against hers. She thinks and thinks. Hesitates as she always does. Before realising she's out of time.

"I would've told you I loved you earlier. I would've kissed you more. Took you away from your duties more. Gone for more of those quiet walks along the fjords where nothing mattered but your presence. Stole your gowns more just so you'd have to find me to get them back. Finished that hunting lodge in the woods just so we'd have a secret place to stow away those stolen moments at night. Made love to you more-"

Anna's words are reduced to mere movements of her lips. She leans closer, hanging onto every last shallow breath her sister takes.

"If- If-."

A surge of icy cold panic pierces Elsa when her chest stops moving. Before it shifts again as Anna forces out her last words.

"If we meet again," Anna whispers, "in another life-"

Elsa grimaces. The blanket soaks with frosty cold tears when she weeps out the last of her brokenness.

"Please, Anna - don't leave me like this-"

"Make sure you do those things right from the start."