A frenzy of snow whirls around Elsa as she tries to block out Anna’s well-meaning words of encouragement. She can’t take it anymore—she can’t save anyone, she can’t save Arendelle. She is helpless, drowning in her own self-loathing. In the shell of panic and anxiety, Elsa slams her hands against the sides of her head, pressing into her temples with her fingers. Elsa could no longer hear Anna over the rushing blood in her ears, over the buzzing of her panic like angry hornets in her ears.



Go away Anna! Don’t you see—



“I CAN’T!” Elsa all but screams, ice flying like shrapnel from her heart, her arms rigid, flung back behind her, eyes open, body twisting so she still sees Anna from the corner of her vision.



Time slows down as she sees her curse strike Anna, bowling her backwards, her chest glowing for a few long, horrible seconds. She is unable to tear her eyes away as Anna stumbles, eyes squeezed shut as she clutches her chest that glows for several seconds, right over her heart. A memory flashes, vivid and accusatory, of a much younger Anna lying motionless on the ground, struck by the very same curse. History had repeated itself, proving once again that her “magic” was a curse, that she was a monster.



No…please…



The world is tilting, moving in slow motion as Anna collapses to her knees on the icy floor, panting from the agony of ice coursing through her veins. Elsa wants to rush to Anna, to try and make it better, but she cannot.



“A-Anna?” Elsa croaks, “Not again…”



She still cannot move, even as her brain screams at her to go to Anna, to try to comfort her somehow, but her feet won’t budge. All she can do is stare, heart pounding so hard it might burst from her own chest, trying to block out Anna’s shallow breaths of pain.



“Anna, please…”



Please be okay…



Elsa’s world darkens at the edges of her vision, and the palace seems to be on some curious tilt.



Go to Anna! She begs herself, but she still can’t move.



And then someone else, a blonde man, no doubt a peasant of some sort, slides in through the door on one knee, puts his arms around Anna, asks her if she’s alright. The little snowman—Olaf—races in, hot on his heels.



God, a stranger and an animate snowman are more willing to rush to her aide than I am. What kind of monster am I? What kind of coward am I?



Anna stands up, supported by the strange blonde man who reeks of odd musky smells. But Elsa cares only for Anna, whose eyes are full of steely determination. She gets her breathing under control, straightening herself up, but her gloved hand still holds her heart, despite insisting that she was fine.



“No!” Elsa blurts out, “I…” Her voice drops to a half-whisper, a half-whimper, “I hurt you.”



Why was the world spinning around her? It shouldn’t be spinning that fast.



“I hurt you.” Elsa’s voice falters, losing any last strands of strength it might have had a minute ago.



Anna’s eyes widen as Elsa slips to her knees, head in hands.



“Not again…” Elsa mumbles through her fingers. “I can’t stop it. I can’t!”



“Elsa?” Anna takes a cautious step toward her, kneels down. “Elsa, are you okay? Please, just tell me what’s going on. Maybe I—we—can help.”



“No…” Elsa breathes, “I don’t deserve help.”



“Yes you do,” Anna insists, “And you can’t keep pushing away those who want to help.”



Elsa inhales as deep as she can, snow falling gently around her. She lowers her hands, letting them lie limp in her lap.



“I did it for thirteen years, and I still hurt you. Don’t you see?”



“See what?”



“I’m cursed. I’m a freak.”



“Elsa, no…”



A flare of anger, frustration, she just wants Anna to get away from danger.



“Anna, I have to stay here!” she snaps, eyes fierce, “I can’t hurt anyone else again. Just…” a deep breath, a quick exhalation, like her energy had been sapped out all at once. “Anna, you have to go to the trolls.”



Anna blinks at her in befuddlement, but now the stranger has her full attention, staring at her as though he recognised what Elsa spoke of. Perhaps she sensed this, for she directed her next words at him.



“Please, whatever you do, get my sister to the trolls as soon as possible,” she pleads to him, “they will know what to do.”



“The trolls?” Anna queries, then turns to the strange man.



He winces, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously. “Uh, my friends. The love experts.”



“Promise me,” Elsa emphasises, still talking to the stranger, “I want you to promise me.”



A grave look comes over his face. “I will—I promise.” He bends down again, holds Anna’s shoulders again in his hands. “Please, Anna, we need to go.”



“I want to help Elsa.”



Elsa shakes her head vehemently, standing up as she does so. She knows Anna won’t leave unless forced to do so.



“No, you have to go.”



“Elsa! I know we can figure this out together!”



“How?!” Elsa demands, “What power do you have to stop this winter? To stop me?”



The cracking ice walls groan ominously around them. The young man’s eyes roam over the walls, his face tensing with apprehension.



“Anna, I think we need to leave.”



Anna pulls herself out of his grip, trying to get to Elsa. “No, I’m not leaving without you, Elsa!”



“Yes, you are.”



I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…



She plunges her hands downwards, and from them is born a collosal snowman who towers over all in the palace. Elsa stumbles backwards, turning her head away so she doesn’t have to see Anna’s look of desperate pleading. She meant well, but who could help, let alone save, someone like her? How could she save Arendelle? It was impossible.



She deserved death.



She hurt her again, struck her in the heart, then threw her out.



Please, she pleads, please go to the trolls. They will heal you. I want you to be safe, to be whole again. I love you, Anna. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry…