Frozen Together Chapter 1

A/N What would have happened if Elsa had found the courage to say three tiny words near the beginning of the movie? Things might have turned out somewhat differently, especially with a few other plausible plot twists. This story is rated K-plus; the language is all K.

I wasn't interested in Frozen until I saw "Let It Go" on youtube. I finally broke down and went to see it, and I was completely captivated. Put me down firmly in Elsa's fan club. My favorite moment in the movie is during "Let It Go," when she takes her first step onto her ice stairway, realizes that it will support her, and joyously runs up the stairs as she creates them, free from her fears at last. I'm so happy for her at that moment!

I've been writing for this site for about a year, entirely for "How to Train Your Dragon." Aside from one crossover between "Dragon" and "My Little Pony," this is my first attempt at writing for any other fandom. I hope my story isn't too similar to someone else's fanfic. I love reviews; I can take criticism if it's not mean-spirited; and I often respond to questions or comments from reviewers. Just don't ask a question if you're reviewing from a guest account, because I can't answer you, and that frustrates me.

o

Anna paced the dim, quiet halls of her palatial home, desperately trying to think of some way to make things different. Making things better seemed impossible; "different" was all she dared hope for.

Her parents' funeral that morning had been a cold nightmare. As the sole member of the royal family who had attended, it was expected that she would act royal. A few tears had spilled over, in spite of her desire to meet everyone's expectations, but for the most part, she'd managed to look dignified and choke down her grief. "Choke" was a good choice of words; her throat was so tight, she could hardly swallow. Now she was alone at last, and free to cry as much as she wanted, but now the tears wouldn't flow.

Her only possible source of comfort was hiding on the other side of a locked door. Elsa hadn't been out of her room in years, as far as Anna knew, and by order of her parents, no one except them was allowed in. Gerda would knock on the door three times a day, slide a meal in when the door opened just wide enough to let the tray through, and then leave. She never saw Elsa. Her own parents seldom saw her. Anna never saw her or heard her, and that was the cruelest blow of all.

They used to be so close! Anna still had some dim memories of early childhood, when the two of them would play together. Some of the memories were certainly distorted by time – they couldn't have actually played with snow inside the palace, could they? But Elsa was her sister, her only sibling, and now, aside from some distant cousins who lived in other kingdoms, she was all the family Anna had left.

But something – some unknown, mysterious, horrible something – kept her sister in her room, locked away from all human contact. Anna desperately needed human contact now. She needed it so badly that she was willing to risk one more rejection from the one who used to be her closest friend.

She hesitantly approached Elsa's bedroom door. They contrasted badly – the door was white, brightly painted in traditional blue and gold patterns, and she was still wearing black from the funeral. She knocked on the door three times, not hard, but hard enough to be heard. It was the first time in several years that she'd even tried to knock. She'd grown weary of being rejected and ignored, but now she had to try, just once more.

"Elsa?" she called hesitantly.

"Please – I know you're in there.
"People are asking where you've been.
"They say, 'Have courage,' and I'm trying to. I'm right out here for you. Just let me in.
"We only have each other. It's just you and me. What are we gonna do?"

She slid to the floor, no longer able to stand. Childhood memories of her sister flooded her mind, adding to her torment at losing her parents, to the point where she nearly couldn't speak. She could barely get out the last few words she was thinking.

"Do you want to build a snowman?"

Her voice broke off in a sob. It was her heart's cry to the sister she didn't even know any more, one last desperate attempt to reclaim something from the past that they might share.

She listened. There was no sound from within the room. Slowly, she slumped forward; even the effort of holding her head up was too much of a strain now.

And just as her head fell into her hands, she heard another grief-choked voice, seemingly from far, far away.

"Yes... I do."

Had she imagined it? She had dreamed of restoring her relationship with her sister for so long... was she just hearing what she wanted to hear?

"Elsa?" she tried to say, but her voice failed, and all she could do was whisper. She listened in the quiet hall for an answer, any answer at all.

All she heard was the quiet sound, muffled by the heavy oak door, of her sister weeping. After a few seconds, she thought she heard the words, "Father, Mother, please come back!" but she couldn't tell for sure. The voice on the other side of the door was as tight with grief as her own.

That sound was the first contact she'd had with Elsa in over ten years. It was also the trigger that opened the floodgates for her own tears, long held back, now free to flow at last.

On opposite sides of a locked door, Anna and Elsa wept and mourned together.

o

The next day, Anna tried knocking at Elsa's door. There was no response.

"Elsa... please talk to me? I really need to hear from you." She got no answer.

"Elsa, I know you haven't stepped out for the day! Answer me!" There was no reply.

"Fine!" she burst out. "Be stubborn! Stay in your prison cell if that's what you want! I am going for a nice walk outside!" She stormed off in a huff. She never had any intentions of going for a walk, and it was just as well. She managed to hold off the tears until she was safely back in her own room.

She'd thought maybe they'd had a breakthrough yesterday. Maybe not. But still, something had changed, even if it was just for a few minutes. Maybe it might be worth trying again.

o

It was a week later. Anna was at the table in the informal dining room, sitting in her usual place, eating her breakfast. She ate by herself, as usual. For the eighth time in eight days, she thought of inviting the servants to join her, but she came to the same inescapable conclusion – it wouldn't be proper, no matter how faithful and kind they were. Her rank kept her apart from them, and it always would. She sat alone at the table that was meant to seat twelve, feeling even more small and isolated than usual.

Sometimes she hated being a princess.

She tried not to look at the places where her mother and father should be sitting. She had little appetite; she picked at her meal but didn't eat much. Gerda came in to check on her after half an hour. "Is there something else I could get for you, Princess Anna?" she asked, obviously concerned that the food wasn't to the princess' liking.

"No, Gerda. Thank you," she said quietly. As the servant turned to leave, Anna burst out, "Wait!" Gerda turned back, surprised.

"Gerda... when was the last time you saw Elsa?"

The older woman wrinkled her brow. She couldn't bring herself to mention that moment when Elsa had said goodbye to her parents at the back stairway. "I really can't say. It was such a long time ago... I'm really not sure."

"Did she look okay?" Anna asked her.

"Well, yes, of course. She was always such a pretty girl... I imagine she's grown into a lovely young lady by now, like you."

"But there was nothing wrong with her?" Anna persisted.

"No, nothing that I can remember," Gerda said, puzzled by this sudden turn of conversation. It was an unwritten rule in the palace that no one talked about Elsa. Any such conversations tended to turn awkward anyway, so it was easier to say nothing.

"When you bring her meals during the day, can you see anything unusual in her room?" Anna wasn't giving up.

"No, it looks rather plain inside. There isn't anything to see, really." Gerda suddenly looked suspicious. "You aren't planning to sneak in there, the way you always sneak around to find your Christmas presents before Christmas, are you? You know your parents' rule –"

"Yes, Gerda, I know the rule," Anna said quietly. "But it's just me and Elsa now. I can't go on pretending I have a sister who isn't there – I can't live that way anymore! I'm a princess of Arendelle, second in line to the throne, and maybe it's time I made a new rule or two."

"I can't say I like the sound of that, Your Excellency," Gerda warned her. "If you're planning to start breaking your parents' rules, you'd better leave me out of it."

Anna looked at her speculatively. "Actually, Gerda, that's a very good idea."