The stones were rough, and heavy, and they towered over Anna. That felt right to her. That’s the way her grief felt.

Anna had been standing a little apart from the other mourners, listening to Pastor Jensen drone through the funeral service. A tall man, his greying head sitting on the traditional clerical ruff of the Lutheran Church of Arendelle, he stood nearer one of the rough stone monoliths, the one that bore her father’s name in the runes of Old Arendellan. She was nearer her mother’s stone. Not that she preferred her mother over her father. More that she felt that her mother — if she had been alive, even if her body had been there instead of lost at sea — would’ve needed her comfort, would’ve been more accepting of it.

Her feet were soaked through with the morning dew, still lingering on the grass and on the surfaces of the stones. She shivered in the unseasonably cold weather. A chill breeze gusted across the clearing and Anna fought the urge to huddle against her mother’s stone, out of the wind. But she had to maintain her dignity. Someone had to be the public face of the Royal Family. With Elsa hiding like a fugitive, the duty fell to her. The service had started, and since Elsa was either as punctual as a pin or didn’t show up at all, Anna knew she would have to stand alone.

She stood bravely, tears gliding silently down her cheeks, only an occasional sniffle a concession to her sadness. Heads turned at the sound of a horse and carriage interrupting the service. It was from the Royal Stables. Anna stared. She thought she was too numb to be surprised, until the footman opened the door and Elsa descended, declining to take his hand. The mourners murmured and whispered. Elsa sightings were as rare as a double-yolked egg. As Elsa came timidly forward Pastor Jensen paused, his voice replaced by whispers and murmurs from the mourners. The grass crunched under her feet as she walked to the front, standing between Anna and the pastor, fidgeting with the paper in her hands.

Anna couldn’t help herself. She stared directly at her. Elsa looked up for a moment and gave Anna a shy, apologetic smile.

Anna longed to hug her sister, to comfort her. She could actually feel an ache in the undersides of her arms where they would press against Elsa as she would squeeze her tightly and never let go. She wanted to ask her what the matter was, what she could do, how they could fix this long isolation, together. She wanted to cry with someone who was family, not servants or civil servants or important people she’d never met. She wanted to not be alone.

As Pastor Jensen resumed, Anna made a tentative sideways half-step towards her sister. Elsa flinched away, stepping into a circle of frozen dew that Anna hadn’t noticed. Anna looked down, drawing her arms in to her sides, hands clasped in front of her. What have I done? What did I do that was so horrible she can’t bear to be near me, even at a time like this?

The sermon concluded, and the pastor paused before inviting — her? Elsa? — up to speak. I don’t care what it is, I have to talk to her. Now. Anna ran to hug her sister, saying, “Please, Elsa — ”

“NO!” Her eyes wide, her face drawn, Elsa bolted away and ran to the carriage. Anna followed, but Elsa was long gone before Anna was halfway there. A sudden chill froze the dew and coated the stones with frost.

As Anna returned to her spot, she saw that Elsa had dropped her sheet of paper. She picked it up and read. In Elsa’s impeccable penmanship, she saw that it was the eulogy Elsa had planned to give. Anna had a eulogy of her own, but the words felt as clumsy as her ink-blotched handwriting. She nodded to the pastor.

“Hi. Welcome. Thank you. Hi. I’m Anna. Princess Anna. And that was my sister, Princess Elsa. Well, Queen Elsa now, I guess.” You’re blathering, Anna. She stood up straighter, composed herself. “Although she was…suddenly called away…” Yeah, like people didn’t see what just happened. “…Her Highness — sorry, Her Majesty, I’m still not used — ” Anna interrupted herself with a couple of quick sobs. Pastor Jensen moved to her and laid his hand on her shoulder. Anna took a deep breath, then nodded to him. He stepped back, and she continued.

“She’s left behind a few words. I’m going to read them for her.” She blinked the tears from her eyes and began.

Pastor, loyal councillors, faithful servants, dear friends, and most of all my beloved sister. I am so sorry.

Anna paused, blinked.

We mourn the loss of King Agdar and Queen Idunn, rulers of Arendelle, our parents. They will be long and deeply missed.

They did not deserve this death. And they deserved better than me for a daughter

this difficult life.

I was a burden

They faced many burdens, some of which I can’t face

I can’t talk about

were public, and some private. We

They missed their friends, as I’m sure you missed them.

Anna

I made them

They kept Anna safe

But through it all, they were brave and they did their best, for Arendelle and for us.

I wish I could speak to them for just one minute, so that I could tell them how much I love them, and apologize

beg for forgiveness

thank them for their love and patience with a monster like

me, and keeping my secret from

my sister, who deserved so much better

didn’t deserve this

faced trials of her own.

At a time like this, family is important. I miss Anna so much.

I ask that you be patient and understand that we all must grieve in our own way, and that you respect our privacy in this difficult, painful time.

On behalf of my sister and myself, I’d like to thank you all for your sympathy and caring. It means more than I can say. I’m sorry Anna.

She had thought Elsa hated her. Elsa hated herself.

Anna was in shock. She got through the rest of the funeral like a sleepwalker. Kai literally had to take her elbow and steer her from one duty to the next. Sometimes she just repeated the last thing she heard, telling other mourners “so sorry for your loss” and “if there’s anything I can do…” People assumed she was overwhelmed with grief, and they were more right than they knew.

When they returned to the castle, Kai had Gerda lead her back to her rooms and give her a cup of tea. She tried to offer anything — something to eat, a sympathetic ear, distraction — until Anna finally woke up enough to say, “Thanks, that’s really kind, but I just need to sit and think for awhile.” Anna sat and read the words over and over, not noticing as the sun had set and sank her suite into gloom until it was too dark to see the words. Not that it made any difference by then.

She lit an oil lamp and walked to Elsa’s bedroom.

She knocked.

“Elsa, it’s me. We have to talk.”

Nothing.

“I’m pretty sure you’re in there.”

Nothing.

“I read the letter. The eulogy.”

Nothing.

“Not the crossed out bits, of course.”

Nothing.

“But that’s what I’ve got to talk to you about.” She sat down, back against the door. “I read it. All of it. And I just…I had no idea. I still have no idea. And I know you didn’t mean for me to see it, and I’m sorry if that crosses a line. But first I want to say thank you. And I’m sorry, too. I had no idea. Oh, I said that. Never mind. Anyway, I always thought it was something I did. I thought you were mad at me, or ashamed of me, or something. I thought there was something the matter with me. And I’m sorry — I said that — oh hell, I’m gonna keep saying it. I’m sorry for whatever it is you think is wrong with you, and even though it’s not my fault I’m sorry that I couldn’t be there for you. And I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you. I can’t see how. But we have to talk about this.”

She waited. Nothing.

“I’m not giving up, you know”

Nothing.

“Dammit, Elsa, I’ve been missing you for years! I’ve spent years trying to think what I could do to fix it. You could’ve been in those years, and you weren’t, and they’re gone. And now Mama and Papa are gone, and it’s just us, and I love you, and I need you in my life more than ever, and so help me god if you do not say something by the count of three I’m getting an axe and chopping this door down, because I have waited years and I am not waiting one minute longer. One.”

Nothing.

“Two.”

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

A muffled voice from the other side of the door said, “Seven.”

“What?” Crying, laughing, Anna shifted to face the door, alternately pressing her ear to it and cupping her hands to her mouth against it. “Did you say, ‘Seven’?”

“Square root of five.”

Anna shouted back, “Minus six and a half.”

“Pi.”

“Eleven seventeenths.”

They laughed, giddy with released tension. And cried, too.

“So, Elsa. Gonna open the door?”

The sounds from the other side vanished.

“Okay. That’s okay. We can just keep talking like this. Okay? Elsa?”

Nothing.

“Anyway. You said you have a secret. In the…eulogy thing. And that you and Mama and Papa were keeping it from me. I think I need to know what it is. I think I have a right to know. I have to know, Elsa, so we can fix this.”

Elsa’s voice was back. Soft, muffled. “We can’t fix it. I tried. I can’t.”

“We can try together. We can do it.”

“How can you say that if you don’t even know what it is?”

“Because I know you’re amazing. Even with all this distance, I just know it. And I’m, well, very tenacious.” Anna heard a snort of laughter. “Okay. This secret. Is it anything to do with me?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No, god no. You…you are so innocent in this whole catastrophe. You are the one person no one can blame.”

“Blame for what? What is it? Something perverted?”

“No, of course not.”

“The way you don’t want to talk about it, I kind of wondered… So, did someone get killed?”

“No! No. No, thank god.”

“Elsa, this is enough. I am camping outside this door, and I am not moving until you tell me everything. And I know for a fact you don’t have a chamberpot in there, so you will have to come out eventually.”

Nothing.

“I’m serious, Elsa.”

Nothing. And then Anna heard, “Papa’s gone, Mama’s gone, I'm… Since things can’t possibly get any worse, I might as well go ahead. Anna, you know that white streak in your hair?”

“Sure. Why?”

“How do you think it got there?”

“I don’t know. It’s always been there. As long as I can remember.”

“ 'Remember.’ Yeah. Doesn’t it ever seem cold in this part of the castle? Unnaturally cold?”

“Sure. It’s drafty.”

Elsa sighed. “Today. At the service. You didn’t notice the patches of frost on the grass? That only showed up when I was there? And appeared instantly? And covered everything when I ran away? You didn’t wonder about that?”

“It was a cold snap. What’s the big deal?”

“Anna, nothing can make things freeze that fast! Not a cold snap, nothing!” And then, much quieter, “Except me.”

“Wait, what? You? You can make things freeze? That’s impossible.”

“I wish it was.”

“But this is amazing. This is incredible. Why didn’t — ”

“I almost killed you, Anna!”

“What? How? What happened?”

Nothing.

“It’s okay, Elsa. I’m here.”

“It is not okay. It is not okay, and it is not okay that you’re here. It's… Go away, Anna.”

“No. Whatever it is, I can handle it.”

“The white streak in your hair. I was…using my magic. Playing with it. With you.”

“When was this?”

“You were five. I was eight. We were playing in the Ballroom. We made a snowman, went skating, tobogganing — ”

“In the Ballroom?”

“ — then you were jumping from snowdrift to snowdrift — ”

“You can do that? Oh, of course you can do that, never mind, shutting up now.”

“I hit you. With my magic. I slipped on the ice. My own ice. It was an accident. I’m so sorry.”

“That’s how I got my stripe.”

“Hah! That’s how I almost killed you. You were freezing to death, literally freezing to death, because of me. If it hadn’t been for the trolls — ”

“Trolls?!? Sorry, shutting up again now.”

“They…stopped it. They made you better. And I had to keep you away from magic. And they took away all your memories of my magic to keep you safe.”

“O-kay.”

“They told me that fear would be my enemy. That I had to learn to control my powers. And I couldn’t. And I can’t. And that’s why I hide away. To keep you safe.”

Anna started crying again. She sat motionless, tears running down her cheeks, making quiet mewling sounds. Not crying for her parents or herself, or even for the frightened woman on the other side of the door. For an eight year old girl who suddenly had the weight of the world on her shoulders, who had to hide, terrified, from the sister she loved, and could never explain why she had to hurt her. “Oh, god, Elsa, that’s awful. That’s horrible. I’m so, so sorry for you.”

“You see? Now I’ve lost Mama and Papa, I can’t lose you too. I'd— ” She couldn’t finish.

Anna’s hands were folded in her lap. She stared at them. “It wasn’t fair.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“No, Elsa! It wasn’t fair to you. You were eight years old. You had an accident. You were a little girl who made a mistake and…how could anyone hold that against you? How could you hold it against you?”

“Anna — ”

“My god, do you know how many accidents I had when I was eight? I mean, I set the kitchens on fire on three separate occasions. And no one locked me in my room for the rest of my life.”

“It’s not the same.”

“You were just a kid. You were eight!”

“You were five!” They were both silent for a moment. “You were five, Anna. You were so precious to me, and so adorable, and so little. So little. And I hurt you. I almost killed you. I held you, and you were shivering, and…and…”

“Elsa, I’m here. I’m fine now. I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m right here, and I love you, and I don’t hold anything against you.” Anna heard sniffling. Quietly, tentatively, she said, “Elsa?”

“Yes?”

“Would you let me in, please? Into your room?”

Elsa sighed so deeply Anna could almost feel it through the door. “Anna, what have I just been saying? I can’t do that. I have to keep you safe. I have to…not hurt you.”

“I’m not afraid. I’ll be okay.”

“Anna, no.”

“I have to see you, Elsa. I have to…just look at you. See you. I can’t leave you alone like this. Not now.”

“I can’t. I just can’t.”

“How about, you open the door and I stay out in the hall? You can stay in your room, I’ll sit here, and we can talk? Would that be okay?”

Nothing.

“Elsa? Are you okay? Are you still there?” Nothing. “I miss you, Elsa. I love you. I’ve got to at least see you.”

Anna waited. Eventually Elsa said, “Okay. But stay back. And be careful.” Anna scootched away from the door, still sitting down. The lock rattled, and the door opened.

Elsa stayed behind the door, so the first thing Anna saw was Elsa’s room. Jagged rays of ice and frost radiated from the doorway, painting the room white and blue-white, glittering in the light of the oil lamps. Anna half-gasped, half-sighed. “Oh, Elsa, it’s beautiful.”

Still unseen, Elsa said, “It’s what?”

“It’s beautiful. It’s a little freaky, too, I won’t lie to you. But I didn’t think it’d make a design like this. You’ve got to admit it’s really, um, pretty.” She watched her breath condense into clouds. “Now come out where I can see you.”

From behind the door, Elsa walked away to the centre of her room, surrounded by the bold design of frost that covered the floor and walls, and sat on the floor, holding her lamp and facing Anna. She smiled timidly, and waved a little. “Hi.”

“Hey. You look great, by the way. I mean, I know those are funeral clothes and they’re not supposed to look, um happy-good, but you look good. You’re always so smooth and dignified, and I’m just this big goofball. Seriously, you look good. It’s good to see you.”

“Thank you. And don’t call yourself a goofball. You always look so, I don’t know, so…alive. So free. You’re beautiful. I love to see you.”

“Then why did we have to stay so far apart? Why couldn’t we do like this?”

“Anna, I’m dangerous.”

“You know what else is dangerous? Fire. Yeah, that’s right, fire. And you have some of it in that lamp right there.” She pointed at Elsa’s lamp, and then her own. “And so do I.” She moved her hand slowly towards her lamp, pretending to be terrified, then jerking it back. “See? Nothing.”

“Goofball.”

“Listen, when did you lose control of your powers?”

Elsa’s face looked stricken. “Do we have to talk about this now?” Anna nodded, her mouth a firm line. “Anytime I get scared, or angry, or upset.”

“No, I mean when did you stop being able to control your powers? To do things with them on purpose, like you were talking about with the snowman and the tobogganing and stuff?”

“I…I never did. I don’t think so. I just never used them again. It was too — ”

“Too dangerous, yeah, I know. Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I mean, did you do anything besides just try to hold it in?” Elsa shook her head. “Well, you said the trolls told you that you had to control your powers. Did they say 'control’ or did they say 'stop’, 'cause I’m thinking maybe it’s like…well, like peeing.”

A shocked laugh burst out of Elsa. “What?”

“I mean, maybe it’s not that you hold it in forever, maybe you only have to make sure it all goes…into…the…chamberpot, you know? Oh god, I sound stupid.”

“Anna,” said Elsa, chuckling despite herself, “I really don’t think it’s the same.”

“Okay, like when I’m on a bike. It’s very important that I control it, right? But if I make a wrong turn and start heading down the stairs — ”

“You what?”

“ — I can’t stop it, but I can still control it. And that’s why I didn’t crash into the suits of armour.”

“You what?”

“But my point is, maybe that’s the kind of control you need. And even if it isn’t, even if you do have to just hold it in, maybe it’d help. I think you need to practice it.”

“Anna, I can’t!”

“Yes, you can. I know you can. You told me so. You did it when you were eight, you can do it now. We…I’m sorry, but we don’t have Mama and Papa anymore. We have to fix this ourselves. We have to try.”

“Anna, I don’t know.”

“Well, I do. I’m not afraid. I know you can do this.” Anna looked away, then back to Elsa, grinning and shrugging. “Besides, I really want to see it.”

“Anna!”

“Okay, okay. Being serious now. You were eight, and you did have control over your magic. You just slipped and had an accident. And maybe it made sense when you were eight, but you’re eighteen, now. You are so in control of yourself, of everything, I just know you can control this. Now, please, for me…” Anna’s eyes were shining as she looked at her big sister and whispered, “Do the magic.”