College was very time consuming, and it demanded all my attention. I really did try to write during the weekends but things sort of… congested and I was sucked into the depths of my third semester. However, thanks to my diligent attention and hard work, it all paid off and I even earned a job out of it thanks to the recommendation of my English professor.

Do I regret taking the time away from my fan fiction? Yes, but I'm glad I did. It gave me a chance to breathe and focus solely on my education. Now I have a packed schedule and spend all my time at school. But I'm finally doing something special and fulfilling. I still care deeply about this fan fic. It's one of my proudest pieces. I'll find time for it, and I will finish it.

I was going to update this sooner but, unfortunately, my computer's power crapped out during the holidays and it was in the shop for a week and a half. So… that was a setback.

This is a chapter I've been sitting on for a while, and it's been giving me real difficulty in trying to see how it would pan out… and so far, I liked it and then I didn't but then I did again. It's to give you a bit of a backstory of Elsa and her development as a person. Rather than have her just sit down and spew it all out on Anna, I decided to let it be a sequence of events.

Not everything she's experienced will be in this. But… I guess you'll have to see for yourself.

TRIGGER WARNING: abuse

In celebration for my first 600 reviews, which is amazing and fantastic and I thank you all so much, I give you this lengthy chapter.

"Do we have to go?" Elsa inquired, staring up at her mother through the rearview mirror with glassy eyes. When Iduna didn't respond, Elsa pestered her again. "Why do we have to go? And why isn't Papa coming with us?"

"Elsa, this is for you," Iduna said. "We're going to live with your grandmother for a while."

"But where is Papa? Why isn't he here?" Elsa pushed her, her tiny face contorted with confusion and desperation.

"He agreed this was important," Iduna said, keeping her focus on the road. "Important for you."

"I want my Papa!" Elsa wailed, unbuckling her carseat.

"Young lady, you get back in your seat this instant!"

Elsa didn't listen. She pushed away the luggage stacked in the trunk in order to see the road behind her, hoping to see her father running after her in attempts to catch up and hold her one last time. She didn't understand why he had been shaking when he hugged her goodbye.

"I hope I'll see you soon, kid," he had said, his voice cracking.

But she didn't understand. Her mother was taking her to her grandmother's house for how long? Elsa wanted to go back home to where she had her mother and father. Had her bedroom and backyard… the backyard where they chased her around and laughed. Where she was the captured princess in her treehouse and her father had to come rescue her. Where her mother twirled her and jumped on the trampoline with her. Where they were happy, where they were a family.

Why were they leaving? Why was it just she and her mother?

Iduna pulled the car over and got a whimpering, crying Elsa to sit back down. She told her not to do it again. She told her to behave like a good girl should. Elsa's lip quivered as she stared down at her hands. Hot, sorrowful tears poured down Elsa's cheeks as Iduna started up the car.

She kept her mouth shut during the rest of the drive, heart in her throat. For the first time in her eight years of life, she glanced up at glared at her mother. There was an anger inside her tiny, broken heart that was directed at the woman who would not give her a straight answer.

And it would continue to grow from that point forward.

"Iduna, why do you let her wear jeans? It's not very becoming on a young woman," her grandmother said one afternoon.

Two months or so after moving in with her grandmother, this was the first time Elsa had heard something critical about the way she dressed. Elsa, who was calmly eating her PB&J in the breakfast nook, furrowed her brows and suddenly felt very uncomfortable in her jeans. Iduna cocked her head at her mother curiously.

"However do you mean? Elsa looks just fine in her jeans," she said.

"She's a girl. She should be wearing skirts and not sitting with her legs apart." She directed her attention to Elsa, who winced and shut her legs, shoulders hunched to her ears.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly.

"Mother, she's only eight, almost nine," Iduna said.

"That's no excuse. Under my roof, she's a lady. Starting tomorrow, we're getting rid of all her jeans and she will wear skirts everyday," Grandmother said tartly.

"But I don't like skirts," Elsa protested. "My legs will get scraped when I play."

"Don't talk back to me. Tough it out. You're a lady, Elsa, and you will behave as such."

Elsa flushed and felt tears come to her eyes. Iduna didn't fight her mother on it. Rather, she told Elsa to finish up her lunch and go play outside. And that was exactly what Elsa did. She trudged out to the backyard with its yellowing grass and overgrown weeds near the fence, the heat of the summer sun pounding down on the back of her neck.

She plopped herself down in the patch of dirt by the side of the house where her Matchbox cars were waiting from their recent race. Grandmother had already confiscated her Legos and gave her Barbies instead, so she had to quietly play with her toy cars, a gift her father had given her for her fifth birthday because she had become fond of watching him build his model cars. If Grandmother discovered she had a "boy's toy", they'd be chucked in a bin and she would be presented with a fake make-up kit or kitchen unit or some female-gender-oriented toy that girls are "supposed" to play with.

Elsa scowled as she flicked her red car forward, sending it flying across the dirt and into the grass nearby.

"Disqualified," she mumbled, feeling sweat on her brow as the sun beat down up above.

She looked down at her fading jeans, filled with several holes from her attempts to climb trees and over the fences before she got caught. Without the protection of the denim, she would get scratches on her legs, like she had tried to explain to Grandmother. Skirts were too exposing.

"I don't see what the big deal is. They're just pants." She picked up her promotional Mountain Dew truck that she was pretty sure was a Hot Wheel mixed in with her Matchbox. "It's not like skirts are so great."

She set the truck down and drove it across the dirt, guiding it in a circle. She made car noises, her tiny braid falling over her left shoulder. She paused and let her left hand—her dominate hand, the hand she wrote with, the hand Grandmother scolded her for using—touch the braid.

She liked the way her braid fell. Instead of letting it run down her back in a neat braid, Elsa preferred the different take. Grandmother wouldn't like the difference for whatever reason. But that was more than enough to get Elsa to continue to wear her braid over her shoulder.

Elsa sat back down, trying to think about why things were changing so fast. Why her wearing jeans was such a blasphemous thing in this house. She had always worn jeans. She used to run around in overalls when she was really little. It just didn't make sense to her why something like this was such a big deal.

Over time, her mother grew more and more strict as they lived under the thumb of Elsa's grandmother. She enforced the skirt rule and would tell Elsa not to complain when she or Grandmother wore pants, and Elsa was still not allowed to. Elsa's cars were eventually taken away after Grandmother caught her making a muddy mess with her monster trucks. She was presented with a dollhouse as a replacement. Elsa threw a fit and broke it on the first day, sending the plastic pieces flying across the backyard as her tantrum brewed ever larger. She smashed it into the ground and glared defiantly at the gawking pair of women on the back porch. The furniture pieces lay askew along the grass and the family it came with had gotten lost in the bushes.

Elsa was grounded for a week.

During her time at Grandmother's, Elsa cried. A lot. It wasn't as though she liked crying. She just felt lost and unhappy. She cried for her father to take her with him. She cried for her favorite pair of jeans that had long since been thrown away, for the toys she tried to salvage from the trash bin before she got caught. She cried because the boys in her neighborhood started picking on her and calling her a wuss for wearing skirts instead of jeans and stopped playing with her. She cried because the girls would only sit around and play with the girly toys instead of with cars or GI-Joe's like she played with before.

She cried because she felt like she was dying, like a part of her true self was dying. Of course, she was too young to really comprehend what she was feeling exactly. She didn't understand why she couldn't do what she pleased, why she had to dress like a proper lady. She hated skirts. She hated dresses. She didn't want to be like all the other girls.

Elsa felt different from everybody else in the neighborhood.

"Different is great," her father once told her. "It's okay to be different, kid."

Oh, how she wanted to believe him. With the way her mother and grandmother were treating her, it was hard not to conform to the norm. One day Elsa just sucked it up, and hardly shed a tear ever since. What was the point in crying when nobody was looking to save her?

When she was ten, she tried, she really did. A year and a half of fighting left her tired and she wondered would it really be that bad to listen to them for once? So she kept her mouth shut and behaved, went to school, got good grades, and played house with the girls in her class. And she soon discovered that loved to play house with the girls in class for some reason. While Grandmother would think that the playdates she had upstairs with her classmates were innocent games of house, it was beyond her knowledge that Elsa would willingly take the role has the father.

There weren't any boys, she figured, so what was the big deal? Elsa would kiss her "wife" whenever she "got home from work" and none of the girls thought anything of it. But Elsa liked it.

After one particular playdate, when her three friends went home, Elsa was sitting at the kitchen table with Grandmother and Idunn.

"Mama?" Elsa said, poking her peas around with her fork.

"Yes, dear?" Iduna replied.

"Today when we were playing house, I was the Dad," she said.

"Mhm?"

"And so, it's normal when Dads come home and kiss the Mamas… right?" Elsa blinked curiously at her mother, who froze over the piece of steak she was about to eat.

"I beg your pardon?" said Grandmother, staring at Elsa as if she couldn't believe her eyes.

"I kissed Lizzy," Elsa explained, "because she was the Mama. And Julia and Becca were our daughters and—"

"You kissed a girl?" Grandmother held a quiet fire in her eyes and Elsa suddenly felt very afraid.

"'Cause Dads and Moms kiss. I was just being realistic," Elsa tried to justify.

"Elsa Andersen, there will be no such filth living under my roof," Grandmother growled quietly.

"Mother—" Iduna tried but Grandmother held up a hand to silence her.

"What you did, Elsa, was sinful and disgusting."

"But I liked it a lot!" Elsa whined. "Why is it gross?"

"Listen to my words Elsa: conceal and don't feel. You'll be a social outcast if you continue this behavior. Do you understand?"

Elsa sank into her seat. "I think so…"

"Good. I think it's time you found other friends, as well," Grandmother said sharply, with the air of a queen ruling over her kingdom. "No more hanging out with that Lizzy girl."

"But—"

"Not a word, Elsa. Not a word."

The young girl frowned and glanced down at her food, suddenly losing her appetite altogether. She didn't notice her mother trying to come to her defense for the first time in forever, and Grandmother shutting her down with a stern expression. Iduna cast an apologetic look Elsa's way, but Elsa never caught it.

Elsa loved getting mail. Ever since her father sent her a postcard from New York last year, she would hope and pray that he would send her something else to let her know he was still thinking about her.

She would run out to the mailbox every morning before school in order to see if she got any. The mailman knew her by name, though she never took the time to know his. He would laugh every time the eleven year old would run outside in her school uniform, the red and blue plaid skirt and white polo shirt and knee high socks, and ask if she got anything.

Most often, Elsa was without mail and she would grow disappointed, taking the rest inside and eating her cereal with a long face.

However, on her twelfth birthday, when Elsa ran outside in the bitter winter air to the meet the mail man, he was standing there with a smile she had never seen him wear before.

"Guess who got mail today?" he said.

Her eyes nearly popped out of her head. "Really!?"

"Yes! In fact, it's not just mail." He handed her a brown package. "It's something better."

Elsa gaped at it, mindlessly taking the other mail he presented to her. She stuttered out a "thank you" and rushed back inside. The threw the letters at Grandmother and bolted up the stairs, ignoring the calls of her name.

She leapt onto her bed and tore open the box. There was another wrapped gift inside, birthday balloons and confetti decorating the paper. But there was also a card on top of it.

A fine brow lifted in curiosity and she slowly opened the card. Her heart skipped a beat and she immediately recognized the handwriting, blue eyes flickering towards the postcard that was lying on her bedside table.

Happy Birthday, Elsa!

I miss you so much, kid, and I promise I'll see you as soon as possible. I'm still in New York, trying to get a few gigs and make some money to send your way. Would you believe I actually have an apartment here? Don't worry, I'll be home when I can get back.

Anyway, I was a music store the other day and I discovered a CD from a band that really inspired me to become the musician I am. It came out a couple of years ago but I think you'll enjoy it.

Hope to see you very soon.

Love you!

~Papa~

Elsa bit her lip, hiding a smile, and opened the gift. In her hands, she held No Doubt's 2001 album, Rock Steady. She stared at it, her fingers gliding over the plastic wrap. She removed the plastic and cracked open the cover, grinning big at the CD. She felt a pull towards it, as if she was supposed to listen to it right away.

"Oh no," she heard from her doorway.

Dang! I forgot to close my door! Elsa thought, eyes falling on her mother.

"Elsa, give me the CD," Iduna commanded. "That's not for you to listen to."

"No! Papa gave it to me for my birthday!" Elsa said, closing the cover and hugging it to her chest.

"Give it to me now," Iduna snapped.

"Listen to your mother," Grandmother said, appearing behind her.

Elsa shook her head. "I'm not letting you take this away from me! Not like everything else you've done!"

Iduna gaped. "Elsa Andersen, you give me that CD this instant or you're in big trouble."

The pre-teen's face darkened and her eyes darted to her WalkMan CD player sitting on her desk, to her mother, and then to the window. She could do it if she moved fast. In a flash, Elsa flew off her bed, grabbed her WalkMan, pocketed it and the CD, threw open the window, and climbed up the side of the house.

She ignored their screeches for her to get back inside. She ignored the fact she was still wearing a skirt and was probably flashing her underwear to the entire neighborhood.

She had made a successful escape onto the roof of the garage and they didn't find her all day. She had heard them calling her name but where she was nestled, it was impossible to find her immediately.

Elsa lay in the thin layer of snow that had piled on top of the garage. She put in the CD, snapped on her headphones, and pressed play.

From the first track, Elsa felt a rush of warmth at the sound of Gwen Stefani's voice. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to be absorbed in the music. Each drum beat, each bassline, each riff of the guitar sent her further and further in love with this type of music.

For so long, she had been forced to listen to the music her mother liked. For so long, she was told to conform to the norm. But this was something from her father, something that felt like home. It was familiar territory and she was basking in it for as long as she could.

She listened to the CD over and over and over again, getting lost in the soundtrack, ignoring the chill of the snow that surrounded her pale body. In fact, she loved the cold suddenly. She picked up a bit of snow and let it melt on her face, looking up into the pearly grey sky and deciding that no more would she be under the thumb of the women inside.

No, Elsa was her own person. For a reason still not explained to her, her father was taken from her. And for the longest time, Grandmother and Iduna tried to take whatever lit up Elsa's world away.

Music, she thought, was going to be her life from now on. If there was any way to rebel, it was to be a punk.

Elsa felt a deep, devious smirk crawl across her young face. She could see herself so clearly in dark clothes and glinting piercings. Maybe a tattoo or two. She was standing on a stage, people who loved her calling her name. She would get away from all of this and find a life among the stars.

She swore it in the name of rock itself.

Her rebellion started off slow. First it was with the music. She had asked Iduna if she could take singing lessons, but she was given the thumbs down. Enraged, Elsa decided to teach herself. With her birthday money she received from her uncle and aunt on her father's side, Elsa went out and bought two more No Doubt CDs and a songbook. She purchased with what she had left a small CD player and made sure to lock her door so she could play her music on blast without being disturbed.

Whenever she left for school, she would hide her things in a place where neither her mother or grandmother could find. Elsa could tell when they looked, for things would be out of place when she got home. But they never found it. She continued to lock her door and blast her music, singing along with tenacity and strength.

Then Grandmother made sure to get a key.

Elsa retaliated by blocking her door with her desk chair. Then that was taken away. But Elsa argued that she couldn't properly do her homework in her room without it. Grandmother insisted that Elsa do it downstairs but Iduna decided to let it be and returned the chair to Elsa, who gained a score point in her mind.

She started to dress differently, too. When she turned thirteen, she got a part-time job at a local deli, busting tables. With the money she earned, she bought herself some used clothes at hand-me-down stores. Tattered jeans, graphic tees, sneakers, anything she could get her hands on that wasn't frilly or pink or a damned skirt. Grandmother was furious when Elsa came down for breakfast one Saturday morning in a Star Wars T-Shirt and a pair of black skinny jeans.

Elsa merely sneered at her, sitting down at her usual spot and peacefully eating her cereal, trying to ignore the screams and shouts of her ridiculous grandmother, who just couldn't let things go.

"Not in my house, young lady!" Grandmother hollered.

Elsa shrugged, eyes lidded.

"How dare you think this is appropriate!?"

"I do what I like. This is comfortable for me," Elsa responded calmly.

"What do I keep telling you about talking back?!"

"Grandmother, I'm not even giving to attitude," Elsa said sincerely. "I don't see what the big deal is."

"It's a big deal. You are deliberately disobeying me."

Elsa's blood started to boil, though she tried to keep cool. "They're just clothes."

"No!"

"Yes! I wear the required uniform for school everyday anyway. I don't know why wearing pants on the weekend is suddenly blasphemous."

"You are a girl and here you are dressing like a dyke!"

With that last word, something snapped in Elsa. She shot out of her chair and shouted, "SHUT UP!"

That was greeted with a ringing silence. Iduna, who had been quiet the whole time, stared at Elsa as if she had never seen her before. Grandmother was shaking with rage.

"How dare you?" she whispered.

"How dare I?" Elsa snarled. "You're making a big deal out of nothing. Go to hell!"

"Elsa!" Iduna snapped, finally engaging in the argument.

"No! Screw this!" Elsa smacked her bowl and sent it flying across the room, where it smashed against the wall, milk and Cheerios sliding to the tiled floor. "Let me be me! Mind your own fucking business!"

Elsa had never sworn before, but she had heard the kids at school do it in the halls. And it felt so good to let her pent up rage out in one word. Both women were staring at Elsa as though she had grown two heads and five additional arms.

She stormed upstairs and slammed her door shut. She clenched her fists and slowed her breathing.

Finally, she had made her stand. She was doing something that felt better than listening like the good girl she always had to be. Elsa took in one more calming breath and moved her chair in front of her door, blocking their way into her room.

Blocking their way into her life.

Her first month of high school could have gone better, she thought. She wasn't an outcast simply because she was a freshman. No, with little to no friends from middle school, Elsa spent her lunchtime alone in the back of the cafeteria, watching her peers enjoy themselves with their little cliques. She desperately wanted to join some kind of club or group, but noticed that a lot of the students whispered in the halls whenever she walked by. It bugged her to no end, but she tried not to think about it too much.

Her second month, however, took a turn.

It was lunchtime when Elsa was slowly making her way to the cafeteria. She was looking down, hands on the straps of her backpack, eyes lidded with exhaustion and loneliness. She had thought that things would be different but so far, friends were nowhere to be seen. Since she wasn't looking where she was going, Elsa accidentally smacked into someone in a rush—who also wasn't looking where they were going—and both went crashing to the floor.

Music sheets went flying, Elsa caught herself before she ate it. Though the stranger wasn't as lucky. Elsa turned to see that the boy she bumped into had fallen face-first onto the tile, groaning and struggling to stand.

"Oh my god!" Elsa gasped, running over to help him up. "I'm so sorry!"

"It's no biggie," chuckled the boy, shaking his head to rid himself of his daze. "Whoa, head rush!" He giggled and got to his feet, brushing off his pants. "That's my bad for not looking where I was going. I dropped my music though."

Elsa stared at him curiously. He was a tall, lanky boy with a head full of snow-white hair. His eyes were dark as coals and his face was pointed and pale. He was still smiling, two buck teeth the most obvious of his features, and his hands were covered with calluses. No doubt from a guitar, Elsa noted, if he was a musician.

She realized that she should probably help this kid so she rushed to pick up the sheets of music, continuously apologizing as she shoved them back into his hands.

"It's alright, really!" he assured. "I'm a klutz by profession."

She felt herself smile. "I'm still sorry. You totally ate shit not two minutes ago."

"That's not even the worst thing that's happened to me," he said cheerfully.

"Oh… well, uh…" She wasn't quite sure how to respond to that.

"My name is Olaf Kollsvein, by the way!" he continued, sticking out his hand, unphased by her awkward stammering. "I'm a freshman."

"I'm Elsa Ander—" She stopped herself. "Elsa. Just Elsa." She took his hand and they shook politely. "Same boat as you."

"Awesome! Hey, I was about to grab lunch with my buddy Sitron. You wanna join us?"

"You mean it?"

"Heck, yeah!" He looped his arm with hers. "C'mon, just Elsa." He laughed. "You're my new friend. I love starting friendships with interesting beginnings."

Elsa felt her heart swell. "Yeah, okay!"

She never had a friend like this before. She had isolated herself so deep that everyone considered her to be a freak. But now she was being treated with kindness from what was basically a total stranger she bumped into—quite literally.

Olaf took her over to the cafeteria and the two grabbed their lunches before Olaf made his way over to a table where another boy was sitting. His dark hair fell into his large, copper colored eyes. His skin was tanned, as if he spent countless hours under the sun and never got burned. He glanced up at Olaf, nodded at him, and then looked at Elsa.

"Who's this?" he asked bitterly.

"This is Elsa!" Olaf chirped, sitting down across from him. "Elsa, this is Sitron. He's my buddy from middle school."

"Hey," Elsa greeted.

Sitron didn't respond, merely continuing to eat his lunch. Elsa gave Olaf and uneasy expression and he returned it with an assuring smile.

"Sooooo, Sitron," Olaf tried. "How was fourth period?"

"Lame."

"…Kay…"

"What do you do here, Sitron?" Elsa tried for conversation.

Sitron shrugged.

"He's in band with me," Olaf told her instead. "He plays bass guitar, right buddy?"

"Mhm."

"You're not very friendly," Elsa said, pursing her lips. "What's eating you?"

"You hardly know who I am and you're talking to me like that?" Sitron snarled.

"Whoa, hey, I'm trying to make conversation," Elsa snapped back. "And you're a brooding mess with hardly anything to say."

"I don't have anything to say to you," Sitron said. "Olaf, why the hell did you bring this weirdo along? This is Elsa. She's the one who doesn't interact with anybody because she thinks she's better than them."

"…People say that about me?" Elsa's shoulders dropped.

"She doesn't seem like that at all to me!" Olaf defended. "She was very nice when she helped me with my papers. Give her a chance."

"She can join us for lunch as many times as she likes but don't expect me to like her," Sitron grumbled.

Elsa glared at him. "You don't even know me, either."

"Get used to this. I don't interact with stuck up brats."

"Well, I don't interact with jerks!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!

"I'm really sorry about him," Olaf said to Elsa as they walked to her next class together. "He's not usually… uh…"

"An asshole?" Elsa supplied.

"Yeah—no—uhm," Olaf grinned at her. "He'll warm up to you. I promise. It took him all of middle school to even call me his friend! I was just very persistent. I'm lucky you're so nice."

Elsa smiled back. "Actually, you're my first friend in a long time."

He nudged her playfully. "That's good to know, well, I mean—not about you not having friends, but I'm glad to be yours." They stopped in front of her classroom. "Well, I'm gonna go before I screw this up further."

She laughed and nudged him back. "You're not screwing anything up. You're the best damn person I've ever met."

And it became more and more true over the course of her freshman year. In spite of Sitron's nasty looks, Elsa sat with him and Olaf everyday for lunch. She was able to ignore them with ease, far too used to it from the glances Grandmother would shoot at her across meals—before Elsa took them up to her room and never ate a single breakfast, lunch, or dinner with them again.

One day after school, Elsa confided in Olaf that she wanted to be a rockstar. He expressed passionately that he, too, wanted to be one. They excitedly invested in a deep discussion about their favorite bands and singers.

"I want to take singing lessons," Elsa said sadly, looking out at the start of a sunset, her mother late picking her up again.

"Why can't you?" Olaf asked.

"My mother won't let me," Elsa sighed.

"Why not?"

"I dunno. Something about a rebellion brewing and stupid dramatics like that."

Olaf pursed his lips and hummed to himself for a second. "If you're willing to go against her," he said, "then I think I can set you up with free lessons with my folks."

Elsa stared at him. "You're shitting me."

"Nope! My mom gives singing lessons and my dad plays guitar. My whole family is full of musicians. Even my little brother is one! He's a drummer."

"For free?"

"Totally free."

"Dude… I think I found my best friend."

He laughed and clapped her on the shoulder. "Ditto, Elsa! You can come over Fridays once I get the okay. They're gonna love you, I just know it!"

Elsa started to take lessons from Olaf's parents, and met his younger brother on the first day she went over to his house. Marshmallow, was what he called himself, but he told her that, in truth, his real name was Marshall. Elsa had to do a double take when she met him, however, because she realized that Olaf was significantly shorter than Marshmallow. She wondered, for a brief moment before introductions, if Olaf had an older brother he forgot to mention.

Regardless of the previous confusion, Elsa found that Marshmallow was a very sweet boy and welcomed Elsa into the home. He was quiet, but endearingly so.

Olaf's parents were even more incredible than she had anticipated. Skyler, his mother and her singing teacher, greeted Elsa at the door with snickerdoodle cookies whenever she came over. Nikolai, Olaf's father and Elsa's guitar teacher, made Elsa laugh until her sides hurt. The two parents were crazy about each other and were, for lack of a better word, hippies. Elsa adored them.

They made her yearn for parents like them, reminded her of a time when her parents actually loved each other before everything went wrong.

Over time, Elsa found a home in the Kollsvein household. A place where she could be herself, a place where she was allowed to thrive as a musician. Skyler and Nikolai even understood Elsa's stifled surroundings and promised that she would never have to fear her mother finding out about her lessons. She kept lying to Iduna and Grandmother, telling them she had a homework club on Fridays at a friend's house, not caring that she was fibbing to their faces.

Occasionally Sitron would come over, days Elsa would not really enjoy since he was still bitter towards her. He would snicker at her clumsy guitar playing and mock her whenever she sang off-key. She would settle the score by punching him in the stomach after school on the following Monday.

However, on one particularly rainy morning, Elsa had forgotten her umbrella at home and was shivering on the curb, waiting for the bus to come get her. She had gotten in a nasty fight with her mother that morning and left the house hastily, grabbing everything but her umbrella.

She was wiping away tears when she felt the rain completely let up above her. Elsa lifted her eyes from off the wet sidewalk and gazed up at the figure holding an umbrella over her head.

Sitron spared her a glance and a small smirk before looking straight ahead. Elsa smiled tearfully at him and punched him lightly in the shoulder with the back of her hand in thanks.

They only bickered like siblings ever since.

"We should start a band," Elsa, now a sophomore, said one Saturday afternoon at Olaf's house. Somehow she managed to slip away from doing her chores and booked it to his place.

"Are you serious?" Sitron said from the desk chair.

"Yeah, I am." Elsa sat up on Olaf's bed. "And why not? We all have musical talent. We're the very makings of a band. I can sing, Olaf can play guitar, you on bass, and Marsh on drums. Fate made us friends so we can start this!"

"Els, it's very unlikely we'll become successful," Olaf said quietly.

"I thought you wanted to be a rockstar, too?" Elsa asked him.

He shrugged. "It was just a thought I had one day. Reality kicked me awake after a while."

"This can be reality. Every great band had to start somewhere. C'mon, we can at least give it a try. Goof around a bit, do some covers, maybe do a few concerts in your garage for a couple of bucks. Couldn't hurt to try."

The boys exchanged unconvinced looks.

"Don't pretend you haven't been the least bit interested in making your mark in the world of music. I think we can do it. Even if we only release one single at the most, we made a tiny impression on this planet," Elsa said, starting to grin big. "If we try and fail, then at least we didn't give the opportunity up. But if we try and succeed, then it'll be great!"

Olaf started to nod at Elsa's words. "Yeah… yeah, you're right."

"You're damn right I'm right!" Elsa said.

"Imagine it! Me on the guitar playing in front of thousands—no, millions of fans!" Olaf cheered. "And you on the drums, Marsh!"

"I think I can keep up a beat," Marshmallow smiled bashfully.

"Fuck yeah you can! You're one of the greatest drummers I've ever seen!" Elsa encouraged.

Olaf clapped Marshmallow on the back. "You'll see, lil' bro. There'll be people chanting your name. Fan girls swarming all of us, begging for autographs." He raised his hand in the air, as if it really was right in front of the pair of them.

"Fan girls?" Elsa said suddenly. "Why not fan boys too?"

"Well… It's cause you're gay, right Elsa?" Olaf said.

Elsa stared at him. "You… You know?"

"Sure I do! At least, I think I do. You always look at the girls instead of the guys. At first I thought that maybe you just liked the girls' outfits better but then I thought, Olaf don't be stupid." He beamed at her. "It's alright, Elsa! I'm one hundred percent for it!"

"Me too," Marshmallow added.

Sitron nodded in agreement.

Elsa was overwhelmed with emotion and she blinked back tears. Never did she ever have someone care about her and accept her the way her friends did.

"So… you wouldn't mind if I dated girls?" she asked quietly.

"Of course not!" Sitron grinned. "Just don't take them all from us."

Marshmallow and Olaf laughed.

"And besides, I'll be the one the babes are after," Sitron said. "The bass player to a hot new band? Count me in."

Elsa smiled. "So we're gonna do it?"

"It's worth a shot!" Olaf said. "Shall I grab the instruments? We can dive right in now!"

"Fuck yeah, bro!" Sitron yelled. "Let's go!"

"Wait, what should we call ourselves?" Marshmallow asked.

Everyone fell silent. Naming a band wasn't an easy task. They all sat and thought for a few moments, and then Elsa opened her mouth.

"Glacier?" she offered.

The boys cringed.

"I know, I know. It's a shit name but it'll be our name for now until we come up with a different one. A better one." She hopped off the bed. "C'mon, losers. Let's go make some fucking music!"

They ran out of Olaf's bedroom and down in the basement to grab some equipment. They then set up in the garage, tripping over wires and bickering about what goes where. Finally, the area was perfect for them to start practicing.

"Uh…" Olaf fingered his guitar as he tuned it. "What should we start with?"

"Elsa's the leader," Sitron said, nodding at her. "Ask her."

Elsa furrowed her brows at him. "Wait, what? I'm not the leader—"

"Sure you are! The lead singer is always the one calling the shots," Sitron shrugged. "I don't have a problem with it. Anyone else?" He addressed the room. Nobody objected, but Elsa was humbled. "Alright then! Els, what song should we play?"

"Do you guys know any No Doubt?" Elsa asked hopefully.

"Ooh, I do!" Olaf said excitedly. "I know Hella Good."

"That's an easy one. Marsh, you got this?" Sitron said as he started to pound out the bassline.

"Yeah, I think so." Marshmallow did his best to keep up.

Elsa bopped her head to the beat and gripped the microphone. She gazed out in front of her before closing her eyes.

"Whenever you're ready, Elsa," Olaf said.

"One moment," Elsa whispered.

She strained her ears and could have sworn she heard them chanting, whoever "they" were. But they were shouting her name. Cheering, screaming. A sea of people who came out to listen to her sing, people who cared, people who wanted to bask in her presence.

And maybe, just maybe, her father was one of those people in the crowd.

Elsa cracked open her eyes and, for a short second, she saw a theatre full of fans. She smirked and they hollered out praises and declarations of love.

"Alright. Let's do it," Elsa said before jumping into the song.

Glacier was short lived but semi-popular. Kids from their school came out to see them play in Olaf's garage and paid a couple of bucks each for the show. It lasted throughout Elsa's high school career but her mother and grandmother soon discovered where Elsa was going on the weekends. The forbid her from leaving the house near the end of her senior year.

It devastated Elsa that she could no longer see her best friends as often as she used to. Skyler and Nikolai even tried to talk to Iduna and Grandmother. While Iduna was apprehensive to discussion, but seemed like she was willing to talk for a moment, Grandmother slammed the door in the couple's faces. Elsa watched them sulk away down the lawn from her bedroom window, holding back tears.

She didn't let that deter her. Elsa still wore her punk outfits, got several piercings from Sitron's older sister when she managed to sneak away, and had a couple of sexual relationships with other girls from school. While she was pretty comfortable with identifying as a lesbian, she experimented with boys for a couple of months, she never ventured past second base. She also developed a crush on one of her female teachers, a young British woman who taught English in Elsa's senior year, but Elsa eventually got over her school girl crush and came to appreciate Ms. Porter instead. Though she was going through all this and was slowly coming out of her shell around other people, she was still a prisoner in her home. More so than she used to be.

It frustrated her, and her mother was determined to send her to college once Elsa graduated.

Elsa wouldn't have any of it. College wasn't the path she wanted. During her senior year, she avoided everything that even invoked the idea of college of any kind. She threw away brochures, applications, anything her guidance counselor shoved in her face. She ignored questions about what she wanted to major in. She didn't care. She wanted to be a musician, not get caught in the daily grind of life.

So she searched for people to take her along on a tour or something. Anything to get her away from her family for a long period of time. She ended up hearing of a small band going on a tour from the very same English teacher Elsa once doted on. Ms. Porter knew of Elsa's dreams and fully supported them, so she surreptitiously passed along the information to her student. Elsa met with the band and offered to be a roadie for the lowest possible pay for the oncoming summer, and they brought her on board, their only request being that she had to have some ink.

She got a snowflake tattoo on her shoulder. Grandmother nearly had a heart attack and Iduna screamed at Elsa, who sat there unfeeling. She glared at them the entire time they yelled. And as soon as they finished, she went up to her room since they were about to send her up there anyway.

The final straw was near the end of her senior year. She was so excited to go on tour, a secret she had been keeping close to her heart so her family wouldn't find out. She was also excited because she was going to have her then-girlfriend, Jessie, come over after school. Her mother and grandmother weren't due to be home until six that night, so Elsa knew it was her golden opportunity to have Jessie over.

So they had gotten comfortable on top of Elsa's bed, giggling and kissing. Elsa was overjoyed. She was kissing a girl she liked without feeling any guilt. For years, it would eat at her confidence. Time and time again, Grandmother had smacked away Elsa's belief in herself and how she loved. But now? Elsa was no longer bound to those chains.

The joy did not last, sadly. Grandmother was pulling into the driveway having got off work early. She opened the front door, hearing music up in Elsa's room. Deciding to give her granddaughter some chores to do before dinner, she made her way upstairs. Without knocking, she turned the knob, and...

A quiet fury, "Elsa."

Elsa all but flew off Jessie, paralyzed. The redhead was confused, lying still on the bed, looking from Elsa to Grandmother. The old woman glanced at Jessie with an unreadable expression.

"I think you should leave," Grandmother said, voice like steel.

"What?"

"Go home, dear." It was almost a threat. Frightened, Jessie grabbed her stuff at once and hurried out. Elsa was still frozen to her bed. "You. With me. Now."

Elsa was terrified, meagerly following Grandmother outside. She had never seen her grandmother like this. Any streaks of disobedience were long gone. They soon reached their backyard shed. There she opened their large freezer where they stored some extra food. Elsa stared into the contents, stomach churning. It was smoking, a few lumps of dry ice bundled in newspaper at the bottom to maintain the chill.

"Pick up the ice, Elsa," Grandmother said stoically.

"The... the dry ice?" Elsa croaked.

"Yes. Bare hands. No paper."

"But—"

"Now, young lady."

With trembling fingers, Elsa unwrapped the paper an cried out as the ice began to burn her hands. She wept as Grandmother told her to keep holding on until she said stop.

"This is a reminder of how you're tainted," Grandmother snarled. "You're a mistake, Elsa. These feelings are not pure. This is not love. This is disgusting." She had to speak up, Elsa sobbing uncontrollably. "How dare you defy me?"

It wasn't until the burns were gnarled and red did Grandmother let her drop it into the dirt. Grandmother took her inside, treated the burns, and did not stop Elsa from running out that night.

Olaf opened his door to find Elsa standing at the threshold with bandaged hands, and eyes full of unshed tears.

"Can I stay with you?" she whispered.

Olaf didn't even have to ask any questions as to why she was there. He merely embraced Elsa and told her, "You're home now."

Elsa got home the next night, Iduna frantically demanding where Elsa had gone off to. Elsa simply shrugged.

"Why are your hands bandaged!?" Iduna cried.

"Burned them last night on the freezer's dry ice."

"Why on Earth did you handle that stuff?"

Elsa looked over Iduna's shoulder to a cloudy-faced Grandmother. Elsa cleared her throat and mumbled, "Wasn't being careful."

In the dead of night after her graduation, Elsa packed her backpack and jumped out of the window. She ran from her home, from her friends, from everything she knew. Elsa cried and smiled at the same time. She had spun around several times on her way to the bus stop, laughed out loud, and even sang to herself, because for the first time in a long time, she felt free.

She toured with them the entire summer, writing some of her own music to occupy her time. Her hands were bandaged for much of that time, her scars still healing. But they didn't deter her from working hard. It wasn't until one of the band members suggested Elsa wear fingerless gloves to go with her punk-rock look did she finally shed her bandages. It was a bit uncomfortable to wear the gloves for a while, but she soon adapted.

Since then, she rarely ever took them off.

When she got home, she immediately went to Olaf's. He welcomed her in with open arms, as did Skyler and Nikolai. Elsa was almost eighteen, and she chose to never go back to her old home.

"I want to change the name of the band," Elsa said, she and the guys sitting at their usual spot in Denny's. She was gripping a cup of coffee with her now gloved hands, and had been deep in thought while the others talked.

"Are we still doing that?" Sitron said, raising a brow.

"Yes."

"Since when?"

"Since now. I even wrote a real song on the bus ride back," Elsa said, looking at them each in turn. "I think it's time we do this again."

"What are you thinking, Els?" Olaf wondered.

"Dry Ice. I want the band to be named Dry Ice." Her eyes drift down to her hands. "It's fitting."

"And your song?" Marshmallow said.

"It's called 'Let It Go.' I promise you guys will love it," Elsa said.

Olaf patted her on the back. "I'm sure we will, Elsa. I can't wait to hear it."

And they did, and they performed it over and over until it was perfect. Sitron sent a home video they made of them playing 'Let It Go' to a friend of a friend… who eventually contacted Kai Morstad.

The next thing Elsa and the boys knew, Kai was at their doorstep offering a deal, a large man named Oaken who worked for security standing behind him, and a redhaired boy named Hans who was representing the amp sponsor. Dry Ice was soon spiraled into a whirlwind of success and starting to do openings for Indie bands, eventually more popular bands, and then they were on their own mini tour.

Elsa started to date Hans sometime during the start of the band's uprising in order to seal the deal between the amp sponsor and her band. He had been coming onto Elsa for months. While she wasn't interested, she decided to thrown him a bone and grit her teeth for the good of the band. He lived in a small mountain town in Northern California, but was willing to travel around with the band once they got big. Sometime after the tour was made official, Hans returned to Dry Ice's base in Wisconsin with a black eye and Elsa asked why he looked like he had a run in with a semi-truck.

"You should see the other guy," Hans mumbled, rubbing his cheek.

Eventually, Elsa broke up with him when he became too much to handle, but kept him around as a roadie since they couldn't afford too many hands-on staff members.

One day, their little tour bus—Sitron's old van at the time—stopped Hans' hometown of Arendelle, and Elsa met-



"Hey," Anna said from the doorway, knocking her fist on the frame.

Elsa looked up from the photo album in her lap. She was sitting in her old bedroom, looking back on a couple of memories that she had long since forgotten, the tour and everything else demanding her immediate attention up until then. Her father's funeral was yesterday, and she had to say goodbye to him one last time. Some of his ashes, however, now rested in a small, decorative box with his name engraved on it for Elsa to keep with her. The box was placed in the bottom drawer of her bedside table on the bus.

"Hey," Elsa replied.

"We're gonna start packing up so we can get to Chicago. You ready to go?"

Elsa glanced around the room, now stripped of some of Elsa's possessions she decided to take along with her.

"Yeah… I'm ready." Elsa tucked the album under her arm and stood. "I'm just gonna say goodbye to Mama."

"Okay. We'll be down in the bus waiting."

Anna turned to leave but Elsa grabbed her arm. The redhead looked up at Elsa for a split second before the blonde pressed a kiss against her lips.

"I love you," Elsa said sweetly.

"I love you too," Anna smiled. "See you in a bit."

As Anna left, Elsa stared after her. Yes, she had a book full of pictures and memories from a past she both loved and hated. A complicated, difficult past that has been her goal to come to terms with. But before her, she has a future.

She saw a future in Anna.

With one final look around the room, Elsa left, closing the door behind her. She walked downstairs and hugged her mother goodbye, telling her to wish Grandmother well. She met up with the band outside, the bus idling in place.

As they filed inside the metal monster that they called home, Elsa gave her old house a solemn wave in farewell, and received one back from Idunn, who was watching from the window, teary eyed and smiley at the same time.

"D'you think you'll ever come back?" Anna asked as Elsa stepped inside finally.

The doors slid shut behind Elsa and the bus roared to life, Oaken steering them away from the house and towards the road to Chicago.

"I don't need to." Elsa hugged Anna tightly. "I have a new home."

Like it, hate it, whatever. It's here and it's gonna stay.

NOW I CAN FINALLY FUCKING CONTINUE YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW LONG THIS TOOK ME TO WRITE… well, you kinda do, you've been waiting forever and for that I apologize.

But I needed to churn this one out. I needed to give Elsa a backstory that nobody asked for. And now this story can progress and an old… friend… is show up. Take a guess.

Anyway—Thank you all for being so patient with me. I know it's frustrating when an author doesn't update. Believe me, I get it. I'm right there with you when it comes to certain stories. I read while I write so I'm in the pool of impatience with you. More than you think.

I promise that I'm going to try to get a flow going since the story is almost over. I'm guessing around… at least five more chapters? I hope you're gonna stick with me until the end! If you do, I might have a special little gift for you in relation to this fic.

But we'll see ;)

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See you next time!