Dr. Robinson's dressed in a cream blazer this time. Black pants and high heels. The counsellor's office finally feels like it's country other than Siberia.

"Goddamn - I mean, if I knew just how much time we were spending in the lab, I would've picked another major - probably English or something."

"Mmhmm," Robinson nods, "how do you think you're coping with the increased level of academic participation? Do you feel that this is harder than high school?"

"No, well I mean, yes," Anna replies, hugging a fluffy unicorn plushie, "the people make it worthwhile. Belle especially, she's a blast, she makes this amazing yummy oatmeal, I've gotta learn how she cooks it, supposedly after her mom made it after her dad died and it-"

Anna cuts herself off mid-sentence when she notices a smirk on Robinson's wrinkled lips.

"Why're you smiling at me?" Anna chuckles, "Aren't you guys supposed to be like, super professional or something?"

"You're happier," Robinson observes, "I remember you flooding the carpet with tears last month."

"I- I-, sorry I don't have an explanation for this," Anna sucks in a breath, "am I supposed to act different? I don't know-"

"You've been through a lot, for a young woman," Robinson reassures her, "I'd say you're being very brave, moving to college and all. Have you been making any changes to your lifestyle?"

Fingers flex before her. She looks at her knuckles, stained coffee-brown with bruises.

"Not much, trying to eat food that's not some combination of pizza or hotdogs," Anna mumbles, "and um, I've been exercising - I hope it lasts."

"Great!" Robinson chirps, "What sort of exercise?"

"Oh nothing much, just running around the Quadrangle in the morning, if you even call what I do running," Anna's voice drops, "And um, Boxing."

The counsellor's head jerks up. Oh yea, that got a rise out of her.

"The pride of Arendelle College, very brave of you-"

"I literally walked in by accident."

"Still counts as a win, in my books - especially coming from someone with your past. Did you feel intimidated by it?"

"Yes," Anna blurts out, before she inhales sharply. The memory forces a resurgence in her brain. But unlike every other pain she's suffered, Anna doesn't want to push it away. She lets it float to the top. Liking how it put the faintest ray of pride in her heart. Allowing it to beam from her face as she recounts to Robinson how she had a freaking meltdown in public and still went back for seconds.

"Wow, that's pretty amazing," Robinson's scribbling furiously now, "Not a lot of people would have the courage to get back up after failing to confront their fears. As much as a hardass your coach appears to be, he genuinely seemed to have your best intentions at heart when he hit you like that."

Anna purses her lips. The clock ticks by, just five more minutes.

"I think there's more to it than me, or Kristoff."

Robinson raises an eyebrow, "Is there? Tell me more."

Anna clasps her hands together.

"Um, doctor?" Anna asks, keeping out the saccharine tilt in her voice, "How do I go about talking to a girl who's like, super, super quiet and intimidating?"


She resists checking her phone the second she gets it back from Robinson's receptionist. Opting for the red glow of a vending machine in the parking lot. Two messages. One from Belle asking to hang out at a bar. The other from her mom.

Mom.

Shit.

Has it been a month already?

Iduna: I hope you've been well. The school dropped off some instruments you've left behind, would you like them mailed over? Let me know the address if yes, otherwise it's going in the garage. Call me sometime whenever you're free. Love you.

She scrolls up a tick, eyes widening at the realisation it's been a week since she last texted or called her mother. Has college been that exciting? Anna searches her soul the entire drive back to campus. Feeling for that little rope that tethers her all the way back to California and all the messed-up shit she clawed her way out of. That dressing table mirror sitting on the floor reminds her. Her fists clench. Wrists and knuckles stinging with the residual ache of the nights at the gym. How long are you going to be like this? Anna swallows, before ignoring every screaming instinct of hers and picking up the mirror. Setting it back onto the table and looking deep into her own reflection.

Has anything changed?

She looks deep within her eyes.

An answer eludes her, but she can't be chuffed about that right now. Anna picks up her gym bag and marches out the door.

To Kristoff's absolute delight, more students have signed up for boxing. Anna's adopted her own routine: skipping, shadowboxing, punching that heavybag. Leaving Kristoff more time to deal with the beginners. There're a few guys who appear to be speaking…Russian? One of their names is Rusev. And the other guy is Zangief. What, like from Street Fighter? They sure look like video game characters. Biceps as big as tree trunks. And another guy who looks like he belongs in a wrestling ring instead of a boxing gym. Still, when a wide-eyed girl with creamy tanned skin shows up with the same sheepish look as she did weeks ago. Anna can't help but ask her name. The girl bats her impossibly long eyelashes. A spark of life dances within those green eyes. She smiles.

"Esmeralda," the name rolls right off her tongue, before she's whisked away by Kristoff.

Her curly brown hair bounces as Kristoff takes her through the entire beginner's routine. Save for the inspirational speeches and face-slapping. Not fair.

That simmering sense of unfairness creeps further beneath Anna's skin when she notices, out the corner of her eye - Elsa Williams. Throwing more than her usual fair share of glances towards Esmeralda. That look she's never been on the receiving end of. At least not from a gorgeous, frosty-cold woman like her.

Yes, she still hasn't plucked up the courage to talk to Elsa directly.

Yes, she's conjured up a dozen or so nicknames for her. Mute woman. Snow Princess. Ice Queen.

Anna frowns, trying to think of another name that doesn't start with B and end with H

The annoyance tugs at her chest in an inexplicable, nearly painful way for the rest of training. But she shakes it off as poor fitness. Not realising she's punching Kristoff's mitts harder than usual.

THWACK.

Eardrums crackle from the volume. A sudden wave of acid courses through her shoulders. Anna keels over once the timer beeps.

"Wow, hell of a firecracker that was," Kristoff sneers, wiping the mitt on his pants, "pity about the gas though."

Her eyes swim over to Elsa. Whaling away at the bags, yet keeping a reserved stoic calmness on her face. Does her expression ever change? She ponders that scowling gaze burning down on her if she dares ventures a simple "hello, how are you doing?" and shudders at the thought.

Maybe another approach would work. You're an inspiration to me. You're beautiful. I was looking for a gym and then I saw you. And I wanted to be like you. No, too creepy for sure. A dozen or so corny pickup lines cycle through Anna's head as Kristoff calls the entire gym after the session's over.

"Yo, yo guys listen up," Kristoff smacks the mitts together to get their attention, "shout outs to all the new faces joining us this month. Arendelle's the best college for boxing on the east coast-"

"More like North America!" a voice pipes up. Laughter scatters around the gym.

Anna looks over at Elsa, deadpan expression with folded arms. Her glimmering blue eyes stare straight at the clipboard in Kristoff's hand. There's a perceptible clench in her jaw.

"We're kicking off this season of fights. Amateur competition starts in November which will go on your record, if you have one. I'm gonna leave this clipboard outside the gym if you want to sign up."

Fights.

With other human beings.

She's seen it before. On late night ESPN when her father's passed out on the couch. Sweat and blood and bulging muscles straining to survive. Two human beings in a confined space attempting to murder each other within a time limit. The imagined violence contorts her face in fear. And worse still, Elsa already has her pen out.

Anna trots out the gym to see Elsa writing her name on the sign-up sheet like she's done a million times before. Like it's exactly what she's come here to do. The curiosity overtakes Anna's fear and she steps closer for a look.

Elsa Williams. 135lbs. 5'7". 24-5-2

"You're, you're going to fight," Anna's voice breaks, "Like, for real. With another person."

Elsa snaps her head to the petite, redheaded girl talking to her.

"Yes."

The single word sticks in her gut. She might as well have gotten slapped by Kristoff all over again. And Elsa's still staring directly at her. Say something, idiot.

"Y-you didn't even need to think about it for a second."

Her head tilts. Glimmering blue eyes narrow.

"No."

"Wow, that's really cool, I mean-"

The words spill out her mouth in a mountain of spaghetti as Elsa brushes past her on the way out. Beneath her sweat, she smells vanilla. And condescension. A nickname pushes itself to the front of her mind. One perfect for Elsa.

Ice Bitch.


Nails scratch against her study table as she recounts the two sparse answers Elsa's hurled her way. Voice soft like a melody. Words sharp like poison. And that look in her eyes, god. How could someone with the radiant face of an angel cast a look as disparaging as this? Anna's skin prickles with unease. She felt like a child caught stealing cookies from the kitchen. Or a dog which just pooped on the carpet. Whatever.

She screws her eyes shut and shakes her head. Needing a distraction - Anna opens a tab of Youtube, only to find herself absentmindedly typing Elsa Williams boxing into Google.

Christ.

Elsa's started boxing at fourteen? High school New York State Titles. Two-time Junior Golden Gloves Champion. A fight record so long it makes her eyes dizzy. Anna chances upon a photo of the referee holding her hand up after a match. That same, cold stare on her face looking like she hasn't even broken a sweat. Opponent with her eyes swollen shut and blood leaking out her nose. Is that what she's capable of? A killer. That familiar, foreboding sense of fear creeps beneath her skin, right before it's flushed away by that thought from the first day they met. She wants to fearless like her.

The sudden knock on her door forces her to Alt-F4 the tab. It's Belle. Craning her head into the room. As always, the brunette doesn't waste any words.

"I wanna go out," Belle groans, "it's Thursday night."

Her eyes light up, she sees it clear as day in the mirror. A month of classes and endless exercising and that taste of college life still barely out of reach.

"Really?" Anna's voice rises, "Where?"

"Oh, that got your attention?" Belle snickers, "I know a bar, c'mon."

"If it's full of other girls sitting quietly and reading, I'm not gonna go with you."

She rolls her eyes, "Seriously, is that what you think of me? You owe me for all the oatmeal I've been making you-"

"Oh I don't recall entering any sort of oatmeal-rrangement with you!"

"Get used to it," Belle giggles, before mouthing off as she shuts the door, "I'll buy you a drink-"

Anna turns to her overflowing closet of clothes, pondering what to wear for her first night out in ages. A dress? The thought of those glimmering blue eyes pushes itself all the way to the back of her mind.


Anna: Hey mom, I'm sorry I haven't texted back - College has been busy. I've been thinking of you all the time. Unfortunately I couldn't get into any of the musical programmes so I don't think I'll need my instruments for now. Heading out tonight with Belle! Love you and talk to you soon.


As she expects, Belle takes her to a college bar. Oaken's Fold. What she doesn't expect, is how boisterous a college bar could be. And how many, apparently random friends Belle has made over the course of a month. Beneath the buzz of neon lights and rancorous conversation, Anna recognises classmates from Chemistry 101. Without asking, Belle pays for a mug of beer and leaves Anna alone while she heads off to play darts with some dudes. She checks her phone. Not even 10pm. Already, the bar, with its Jay-Z and Kanye West music, starts to morph into a nightclub. The lights go low. She stumbles around the thick crowd, drink in hand - eyeing that empty table in the corner. The sudden crack of a pool cue distracts her and a guy bumps her elbow. Large as a bull, his shoulders blot out her view.

Wait a minute.

She recognises that face as one of the guys living in her dorm. That same dude who froze her in terror fooling around with a friend. A month ago. Anna searches within herself for that same kind of fear as she hides her face behind a sip of beer. And finds vacant indifference.

What happened?

The bar's TV screen shuts off and a bunch of burly, half-wasted guys wearing Football Jerseys bump her on the way out. And when those broad shoulders filter pass her view. She sees a familiar male face sitting at the empty table. He flashes a handsome smile the moment those green eyes land on her, and it draws her to that comforting sense of familiarity. Someone she knows from back home.

"Hans! I knew I'd run into you some day."

"Just not at a dump like this," Hans sneers, before leaning back in that pretend-suave pose and drinking from a bottle of Bud light.

"Well, looks like a dump is good enough for you-"

For the moment, it's more than good enough for Anna. Listening to Hans talk about news from her hometown. News she'd deliberately walled off from her mind. His sickly-sweet voice recounts where each one of their classmates ended up. Ariel's pregnant with Herc's baby. Merida shipped off to the Military. Rapunzel got into Harvard. Jasmine went back to Iran with her dad. Conveniently avoiding the gossip that the entire town knows her mobster dad's in prison.

"How about you?" Hans asks with a coy smile, "How's college holding up for you?"

"Great!" Anna shoots back, before catching herself realising that she meant it, for once.

"Y'know, I've always hoped it'd be you getting into Arendelle College - I wasn't looking forward to living across the country on my own."

Oh boy, here it comes. That clumsy, awkward flirting which precedes his reputation. She'd been warned enough times about Hans's perfect row of teeth hiding a sheath of lies. Back home there'd always be a prettier girl for him to target. Someone more popular. Down here it's just…her. Anna looks around the bar as he continues his flirtations, hoping to find someone who could serve as a distraction. Nope. Belle's getting shitfaced. And Elsa wouldn't show up to a bar like this, would she?

"Would you like to dance?"

His thumb points at the dancing couples. The music's changed to some downbeat house music. She cranes forward in an attempt to re-engage conversation but Hans takes it as consent. Bony fingers wrap taut around her wrist and it shoots numb compliance up her spine. That paralyzing fear blankets her again. It allows him leeway to drag her into the thick of the dancing crowd.

"Belle," Anna croaks, voice lost to the music, before sighing and rolling her eyes, "oh fuck it."

A muffled gasp leaves her throat when he pulls her close. Too close. Hans smells like formaldehyde and cheap cologne. Her spine strains and she turns away from the beer on his breath.

"Y'know, I've always wanted to tell you this since Junior high-"

Anna rolls her eyes so hard that it's a miracle they don't fall out her skull. She exhales an exasperated breath.

"You're the prettiest girl I've ever met in school-"

"Right, and you waited until college to tell me - how many girls have you dated? Four? Two for each year?"

"Maybe I was just shy-"

"You don't seem that shy right now," Anna presses a palm to his chest. To keep her distance? God I hope he doesn't get the wrong message. She leans away. Her gaze catches a gorgeous brunette woman. Open plaid blue shirt. Beaded necklace dangling over a white tank top. Almost unrecognisable. Esmeralda. Anna flashes her a wide-eyed look of alarm and it's enough to catch her attention. The woman narrows her eyes and marches through the crowd. Hans's right hand wanders lower and lower down the small of her back. Hurry up, woman!

She catches hold of Anna's hand with a hiss. Muttering a barely audible, "Do you mind giving me a few minutes with my friend?"

There's no venom in Esmeralda's voice, only that sultry tone she knows would get her way. And it does, eliciting a compliant for sure, lady - from Hans.

The sigh of relief billowing from Anna's lungs flutters through her fringe. She doesn't even mind Esmeralda's hands replacing the exact places Hans's ones were in seconds ago.

"God, thank you - that guy from my town, p-hew! He won't let up," Anna leans into her chest, like an entire week's worth of energy was spent holding Hans away, "I gotta say this, we hardly know each other and you're already saving my ass-"

"Hey, I always know some help's needed when I see it."

"Fancy seeing you here though," Anna looks into her eyes. Hazel-flecked emeralds. Gold specks litter her light eyeshadow like stars. Esmeralda's touch is soft, and it soothes her strung-out nerves.

"It's a popular bar! I don't drink often but I had to make an exception tonight," Esmeralda cranes her voice into Anna's ear, "A friend asked me to hang out tonight but I think she bailed-"

Anna's voice lights up. She'd take any goddamned opportunity to make new friends. Even if it's by proxy.

"Do you know her from classes?"

The brunette's eyes swivel back, betraying their surprise.

"Oh no, you've met her actually," Esmeralda brushes the red tips of Anna's fringe from her eyes, "it's that Elsa girl from boxing - she asked me out."