SIDE: Past 02

It had been three years since the dragon incident, and Anna Arendelle was now twenty-one years old.

She had yet to accomplish anything.

Or rather, she had yet to win any accolades. Her life was the same as it had been since the time she was fifteen—sent to the outskirts to fight foreign foes, cutting off invaders at their borders and routing mercenaries and warlords that, like vultures sensing weakness in a wounded beast, occasionally prodded at Arendelle with testing strikes. Anna was good at it. Her force was small but dedicated, and loyalty and morale won wars; Anna had yet to fail, and her success should, by all rights, have earned her titles and lands. But her father had never acknowledged her success. To King Agdar of Arendelle, Princess Anna may as well have been another faceless, nameless servant, one sent to die and yet who, against all odds, returned to be a thorn in his side for another day.

It hadn't always been that way. Anna had never been favored, but the tolerance and owed affection that her father granted her in her youth had soured ever since Ellie's death. And that souring of their relationship was not one-sided. They reminded each other too strongly of Ellie to be anything but the bitterest of enemies; Anna still thought about her eldest sister every day, and every time, she wished that Agdar had died. Elizabeth – Ellie – had been perfect: ambitious but ethical, innovative but pragmatic, wise but empathetic, morally just but benevolent. She would have been a perfect monarch. Anna had no doubt about that. Ellie would have revolutionized Arendelle and brought them to a glorious golden age greater than any before—Arendelle would not be the stagnant beast it was now, but a utopia.

Instead, Agdar had killed Ellie.

Anna still wasn't sure what had happened. She had been out of the city at the time, fighting her first battle at fifteen. She had left Arendelle only three months before, and Ellie had been there to see her off with a smile and a wave, a promise to celebrate her victory together. Anna had indeed returned victorious. By the time she did, Ellie's entire household was dead, Ellie's supporters were dead, Ellie was dead. Hundreds and hundreds of people, servants, court officials, the crown princess Elizabeth of Arendelle, all executed for treason and never to be mentioned again on pain of death. Anna's entire world—gone.

No matter what happened, Anna would never forget.

Kristoff approached, his steps respectfully light. "You…really shouldn't be here," he said, but he made no attempt to pull her away. Together they stood in vigil at the complex that had once belonged to Ellie. It ought to have been recommissioned by now and granted to someone, anyone, but instead, Agdar seemed to have forgotten its existence. It lay there in disuse, doomed to a fate worse than death. It would be forgotten.

Anna may as well have been raised here, and she alone remembered the sounds of the household servants going about their business, the well-meaning debates that took place in the courtyard, the smells of whatever new delights were being made in the kitchen, the blossoms that fell from the carefully maintained trees. Now there were dead leaves scattered across browning stone. It was so quiet she could hear her own heartbeat—the only thing here that was not still.

"Let's go," Anna said at last.

She had to report to her father about the latest battles, and the day was no longer young; there were many hours left yet to stand at vigil, to wait at the gates before Agdar deigned to listen.

"I'll be right back!"

Elsa gave a backwards wave as she left the shop, basket of medicinal herbs hooked on her left arm, string of coins tied around her right wrist. She made a tiny hop down the stairs that led into the store, coins jingling into her palm and out again as she did, and she was on her way, gliding down the street with new, comfortable agility, before Kai even managed to respond to her chirped message.

About five shops down, there was a Mr. Dimmes who suffered from gout, hence the medicine she was delivering; and during the evening hours the heat of day cooled into a tolerable warmth that no longer stifled her senses, the throngs of people dwindled into a mild trickle that no longer set off her anxiety, so she was free to brave the markets and purchase whatever Kai needed for the store. Leftover money was hers to keep, and this, she most often spent on simple trinkets.

Today, though, Elsa stopped in front of a tank of water and peered through the glass at a bright yellow fish. It returned her gaze with a baleful stare before resuming its circuit around the tank, giving a particularly angry swish of its tail as it turned away.

"Interested in buying a pet, Miss?" asked the vendor owner.

"Ahh…" Elsa cleared her throat. She had long since mastered speaking, but in the presence of strangers, her skill was blunted by nerves. "N-No, I don't think I can take care of it."

"Oh." Visibly deflated, the man shrugged. "This little fellow's been here for a while. Well, feel free to look around, just don't tap the glass—might startle him."

Elsa did stay to accompany the little fish, though it was altogether uninterested in her company and, indeed, seemed to snub her inability to purchase it by swimming to the farthest corner of its home and prison. Elsa, who made sure to keep a proper distance from the tanks and the water they held, could hardly keep a proper eye on it. She wished she could buy it, but taking care of it was impossible and releasing it in the improper habitat might very well kill it instead. Elsa watched the fish swimming its rounds, feeling an increasing sense of melancholy at the monotony of its path. It only had so much space to swim, so much freedom to live, as was permitted by the walls of its prison.

She could understand that.

It wasn't very long ago that she herself toiled in the dungeons of a castle, oppressed on all sides by dark, humid heat, save for the brief times she was pulled out of her cage—only to be prodded with sharp instruments and goaded into bloodlust.

"Make way for Princess Anna!"

"Huh?" Elsa turned sharply at the loud proclamation, and her elbow struck the corner of the fish tank—and the instant she realized what she had done, she whirled around again, jerking her arm away from the splashing water; but her movement was too sudden, she could not regain her balance, and uttering a small yelp, she tripped backwards into the street.

There was a horse charging down the road, and it was coming straight for Elsa.

Elsa braced herself for impact – and prepared to feign injury – but the horse pulled itself to a halt just before their collision. Or, rather, the rider pulled the horse to a halt, so firmly and so abruptly that the horse whinnied with an indignant shriek as it threw its front hooves up and to the side, finally landing, with a heavy thud, away from Elsa.

"Are you all—"

Whoever had spoken cut herself off with a strangled noise, and only then did Elsa look up at her assailant—and her voice died in her throat in much the same way. Years had passed, but she still remembered. Anna. Elsa hadn't made the connection that the princess was the same person who had saved her then; Anna had never introduced herself as princess when they met, and the name was common enough that Elsa, coming to Arendelle and learning the workings of this kingdom, including the estranged Princess Anna, could not have assumed they were one and the same.

There was another, more pressing matter.

Her hand was wet.

Elsa yanked her hand back into her sleeve, praying that no one had seen. It seemed they had not, or else Elsa would not be surrounded by concerned glances and inquisitive murmurs but by torches and pitchforks; and yet panic drove her past reason and into instinct. She hastened to her feet, taking care to pull her over-wide sleeve further down over her hand, and she cradled the limb close to her stomach until her entire body was slightly bent over the source of her unease. Anna noticed, of course, not the deformity of her hand but the strangeness of her behavior. She outstretched her own hand as though concerned, with a tenuous tremor that was the only remaining indication of her surprise in seeing Elsa again. It was as though the past three years had been only an instant, and they were just now waking up from their shared rest, once again reunited in the corner of that dark alley where they once hid from their attackers.

"Elsa—"

Elsa ran.