"Why can't Elsa come out and play, Mama?"

"She just can't." The queen didn't mean to sound so harsh, but Anna didn't seem to notice or care.

"But why? Is she okay? Is she hurt? Or sick? She must need me, Mama! Will you let me in to see her, please? I know I can make it better!"

"Oh Anna, I'm sorry, but I can't. She's…" the queen trailed off.

"She's what, Mama?" curious eyes looked up from a tilted little head.

"Afraid, Anna. She's afraid. And… and I can't tell you why. I'm sorry."

"Afraid?" The little one sounded perplexed. Elsa afraid? I've never seen Elsa be afraid. Is it monsters? She always told me not to be afraid of those. Is it people? She lets Mama and Papa in, but not me. Never me. Could it be that she… "She's not afraid of me, is she?" the words came soft and hesitant from the downcast child.

"No, of course not, dear. She loves you very much," the queen insisted, kneeling and gathering the seven-year-old into her arms.

"Really?" a shy smile crept onto her face. "I love her too." A pause, and then, "Is there anything I can do for her? To help her not be afraid any more?"

"I… we'll talk about it later," Idun stuttered before guiding the little girl away from the blue and white door. "Come now, it's time for bed."

(Later that night…)

"Elsa?" The young voice was quieter than usual. Not a shade of playfulness to be found. Elsa had hardly moved from her usual position, pressed against the door and yearning to participate in the world outside. A world with Anna in it. As usual, Elsa did not respond to her sister's call, but she was intrigued by the somber tone.

"I talked with Mama today. About… well, about you. I wanted to know why you don't come out, and why you don't answer when I talk to you. She said you're afraid. But she said she can't tell me why." The little girl slid to the ground, leaning against the door.

"It must be awful, whatever it is, because you're the bravest person I know, Elsa. And the strongest. So it's gotta be pretty bad. I… wish I could be in there with you. I wish I could help you not be afraid. But I don't know how!" Tears of frustration and helplessness started in her eyes as she leaned dejectedly against the white wood paneling. She turned to press her body against the door in a wide-armed embrace, yearning to be as close as possible to her distant sister.

"I love you, Elsa. I really do. A whole, whole lot."

Silence was her only reply and the unyielding surface was less than satisfying to hug. Anna settled on her knees, her forehead resting against the door, both hands planted on it, trying to reach through somehow. She sniffed back some tears and continued.

"Mama said she'd find some way for me to help you. Well, she didn't exactly say that, but she didn't say that she wouldn't, so I'm hoping that means that she will. Maybe you could tell me how? I… I know you don't talk to me any more. I guess that's because you're afraid, but maybe you could write? Would that be better? Or draw? Or… or just tap on the door, please?" Her little hands formed fists.

"I'm worried about you, Elsa. I'm worried that whatever you're afraid of has got you and I wouldn't even know! Would you please just knock back to me? Just once, so I know you're alive?"

Anna sat very still, hardly daring to hope for a response. There was no sound from the other side of the door for what seemed like ages. But just as Anna was losing hope, she heard a single tiny tap. It sounded like an enormous thud to her attentive ears and she gasped. There had never been a response like that. Not in years! Anna hadn't even heard Elsa's voice since she last told Anna to go away one year, seven months, and thirteen days ago. Not that Anna had ever obeyed that particular command. But this little knock showed promise.

The little princess had to restrain herself from reacting with an excited vocal torrent, but she couldn't stop the wide grin that split her face.

"Oh Elsa," she whispered. "It's really you." Her eyes were alight and had started to brim with tears.

"I'm so glad you're alive. Thank you. Thank you for knocking back to me." Anna hoped she had really heard the tap. It seemed so faint. The echoes of it in her memory were already fading. If she could hear it again… if it wouldn't be too much to ask…

"Would… would you do it again, please? It's okay if you don't want to or it's too scary… I just don't want it to be my imagination," she babbled apologetically before falling into a hopeful silence. This time she didn't have to wait quite as long.

Tap, Tap. Two little knocks this time. And they were definitely real. Anna couldn't suppress a tiny squeal. She embraced the door separating the two sisters as best as she could. Though she was beaming, tears had begun to fall from her eyes.

"Thank you," she almost sobbed. "Thank you, Elsa. I love you. I promise I won't give up on you. I'll always try to help you not be scared any more. Then you can come out and we'll be together again. Just like we're supposed to!"

Though the years passed and admonitions against encouraging her sister silenced Elsa's tapped replies, she never forgot Anna's promise. Anna, however, did. She was only a child when she made it, after all. Time grew the distance between the sisters. The moment Elsa was most sorely tempted to knock back was the day they found out their parents had died. Anna had come to her after attending their parents' funeral alone and sat at her door again, just like she used to. But in a guilt-filled last act of respect for her fallen parents, Elsa obeyed their orders still. And left her sister all alone.