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It was a warm August day, and the last of the sun's rays illuminated the pile of parchments that lay across Elsa's desk. Her eyes darted over a paper she held—likely a report from a minister—when she felt it sag down. With a flick of a wrist, she securely pinched it between her thumb and forefinger. The sleeve of her icy blue dress was up at her elbow. Embroidered with tiny diamonds made of snow all over, which spiraled and chased each other, it emitted a faint inner light, especially visible in the shadow. She continued reading with less haste than before. She knew she couldn't afford to waste more energy on reconstituting the dress as it was, and again; recreating it a few days ago, after having spilled ink over her arm, took up much of her strength. But she had an appearance to keep.
Ignoring the hefty ending remarks of the writer’s never-ending submission to the throne, Elsa lightly put the paper next to herself and picked up another from the pile. Yet another message from the same minister, seemingly written in haste, answering her reply that indeed, the previous message was correct. The author was once again expressing his unadulterated joy at serving the Queen.
The young woman’s expression darkened slightly. The ministers weren’t too fond of her, and their excessive flattery only highlighted their distaste. She put the message on the previous one and dipped her quill, reaching for a clear parchment on the left. But the quill wasn't accepting ink well—too dry, too brittle. Elsa set it aside and retrieved another from her desk drawer, where Kai would have always left them. The new one shimmered with iridescence in the fading light.
A servant would soon come and light the candles. Sighing deeply, she centered the parchment, then dropped the tip of the sparkling accessory in ink with a stern expression. And started writing.
Anna sat relaxed against an apple tree in the courtyard, arms at her sides. Her tree. She wore a simple green dress and slightly yellow pants as she basked in the afternoon sun after an enjoyable ride around the castle. The slight breeze played with her bangs and brought the sweet smells of numerous, groomed roses that bordered every paved path.
Anna took an intoxicating breath of bliss and shifted just so that her shoulder blades rested in a nook of the tree. From where she was sitting, she could oversee the yard and hear the horses from the nearby stables. Somehow, the roses weren’t affected by her sister’s attempts at fame. She tried to be content with the thought. Apple trees, her favorite, weren’t destined to bear fruit this year. She closed her eyes.
What about Elsa? A thought she pushed away in the morning, during her ride appeared once again. Now, she couldn’t shake it off completely. Since their last fight, Elsa had been avoiding her. In a flash of anger that evening, Anna raided the castle’s pantry and emerged victorious with a bottle. Today, she brought one with her during her ride. Kristoff was appalled and threatened to tell Elsa. Anna argued back, saying that it calmed her nerves and provided her solace from thinking about her sister. In turn, Kristoff made her promise that she would stop drinking, and here she was, the drink still lingering in her mouth.
A part of her was scared and crying out how low she'd fallen. For heaven’s sake, now she couldn’t recall how she made her way to the tree! The other part would just chug the bottle.
So what if she’s the Queen of Arendelle? Is she not allowed to relax? Anna already imagined her sister’s expression. Locked in the moment, unyielding as ever with a look that Anna could only read as slight pity, she would graciously stop her activity and relay to her that no, she couldn’t, and that as the Queen, she took on a selfless duty to rule by serving. Or serve by ruling? Whatever. She never probed further. As amusing as the thought was, reminding Elsa of her selfless avoidance of her duties the very day of her coronation would lead to interesting discussions. Probably. With a good bit of ice.
Elsa could definitely feel anger and fear. And show something akin to love, though Anna sometimes wondered if that was just her not being regal in full force on a rare occasion. Maybe, just maybe, she enjoyed being broken, unwilling to give up the things that made her sick. Anna’s intoxicated mind couldn’t exactly define what was real.
She yawned, covering her mouth with her left palm, and shifted in place. Too many thoughts about Elsa. It looks like she fell asleep.
The sun was beginning to set. A servant passed by in a hurry, stealing a glance at the princess. Anna sighed, her eyes fluttering open. There was so much about Elsa that she didn’t understand. The servant was moving in the direction of the kitchen, and she had to take a bath. Pushing herself away from the tree, her stomach growled with her. A very warm bath, for more reasons than one.
“Should I light these, Your Majesty?”
Elsa looked up to see a woman, dressed in the usual dark clothes, asking whether to light the three candles on each side of her table. “Yes, if you don’t mind.”
The servant lit six candles, tall enough to burn until dawn if Elsa worked that long. She usually did. Gradually, she stopped squinting at the report, and looked up with a slight smile. “Thank you. Is dinner ready?”
“It is, Your Majesty.”
Elsa glanced at the window, a pointless gesture. It was obvious that night fell. “Has my sister returned?”
The woman nodded. “Last I heard, Your Majesty, is that Princess Anna is enjoying a bath.”
“Thank you. Enjoy your evening.” The servant smiled and bowed, then headed for the door.
Elsa glanced at the remaining paper and pinched the bridge of her nose. The dull pain behind her eyes seemed to grow a little stronger. The reports were unsettling. The Great Freeze, as the ministers took to calling that, had destroyed most of the crops. Thankfully, under her father’s rule, Arendelle had amassed decent commodity reserves, but they were chipping. According to the paper she read earlier, as of yesterday, they could last for a month. Maybe a week more at the current rate.
Her eyes started watering, a sign that it was enough. She trudged on, thinking. The affected regions petitioned for tax breaks, and the shipments from a few less affected ones were scarce and irregular. The reports again suggested that they kept the harvest for themselves, silently probing for a response from the new queen.
What would her father do? What should she do? She still hadn't decided, and the clock was ticking. Tomorrow, she will visit the library to investigate any previous widespread hunger. Surely someone from the past managed? In two days, she had to present a plan of action to the ministers.
Wiping newly formed tears from her eyes with her sleeve, Elsa blinked and tried to focus. Behavior not befitting a queen, but she was alone. The candles helped immensely, and she soon found herself doing a double take of what she read. The paper indicated an unusual number of uncounted disappearances of beverages.
“Three bottles of wine this week. That’s for red wine… Two bottles of white? And... one champagne from 1793?” Elsa muttered to herself incredulously.
The paper detailed the castle’s weekly usage of beverages, one of the many reports she requested be delivered on a weekly basis. She frowned. The last celebration was Anna’s birthday some time ago. And she never let her sister know that a painful amount of fruit juice reserves were slashed that day. Who could have used up this much and not reported it? And why the champagne from almost fifty years ago? She turned the parchment over, but it was empty. This was probably a counting mistake; she’d have to ask the writer to reevaluate.
A yawn took over, and she slumped in her chair, suddenly too tired to care. Looking over her desk with a glassy gaze, Elsa decided to call it a night. A few murky ideas swirled in her mind as she left the report in the second drawer. Did Kai put this report last on purpose?
Whoever was perusing all that alcohol could be investigated tomorrow. This was one of the rare nights when she felt a need to eat.
Head pounding dully, Elsa yawned as she slowly closed the door to her study. It was late; Anna should have already finished dinner.
Still feeling a little bit fuzzy from the bath, Anna dove into the delicious meal with a healthy appetite. Her hair was a bit of a mess and somewhat wet; she had to thoroughly soap it to get rid of the smell of horse. She didn’t mind it much, but her sister did. Mouth half open, Anna cringed at the memory of Elsa finally sitting down with her to dine and seeing her disappointed gaze, listening to carefully crafted sentences conveying her expectations. Since then, she hasn’t skipped hair washing. Even after what happened.
She drowned the thought with a long gulp. The taste wasn’t so bad now.
Sitting on a large plate, Elsa’s bowl of soup was letting off steam, positioned in front of the empty chair at the head of the table. Beside it was a vegetable salad and a bowl of perfectly juicy and crisp chicken legs—the same amount Anna was served. Except that Anna made a small deal with the chef to get a few pralines in place of the salad. And by few, she meant twenty or so. The chef couldn’t say no. Anna brought the wine bottle herself.
Soon she finished her soup and edged forward just a bit to look at Elsa’s portion of the chicken, pondering. They seemed a bit more crisp than hers. She cocked her head. And a little bigger...
Carefully, she stood over and grabbed Elsa’s plate from the side, bringing it next to hers. Then, she slid her plate over to where her sister was supposed to sit. The plate screeched a bit. Anna let out a small sigh of relief that her clumsiness didn’t invade at the opportune moment. But now the chocolates were a bit too far away, so Anna took the plate, looking for where to put it.
The door suddenly opened, revealing Elsa. Anna panicked and put the plate in front of the steaming bowl of soup with a bit of force. The sound reverberated through the room. Anna sheepishly let go and turned to face her sister, not hiding her surprise.
“Elsa!”
Her sister approached the table, wearily smiling. “Um, hi, Anna.”
Anna quickly sat down, a bit flustered. “Well… Um… It’s so good to see you! Have you eaten anything today?” she said, looking at Elsa. That was one of the main points of their recent qualm.
Elsa pulled the chair back and sat down. “Yes, a bit of what you’ve left me.” She frowned, noticing the bottle. Wine? Anna? Her face wavered between concern and surprise.
Anna frowned. She did leave a portion in her room, but not today. “But that was... that was yesterday, Elsa.” Her voice took on a tinge of concern. “Don’t tell me you went a whole day without eating.”
Elsa decided to retort, not hiding the disgust in her tone. “Don’t tell me that you have been drinking.”
Anna’s expression darkened. “So what... what if I have decided to indulge a little bit?” Elsa didn’t miss how she clasped her hands. To stop them from shaking?
Elsa decided to feign interest and tilted her head. “Anna… Is this wine from the royal cellar?”
Anna’s jaw tightened. “I think you can read,” she said, bitter. “You love reading.” Elsa raised an eyebrow and reached for the bottle, the label catching the candlelight. It was half empty. At that moment, she wished she had her gloves on.
“Champagne from 1793,” she said softly. “Of course it is.” She set it down in front of Anna with care that bordered on reverence. “Impeccable taste. I’m proud.”
Anna slowly grabbed the bottle and angled it to read the fine print. “It’s from... 1793?” She slurred the words slightly, then put the bottle to rest. “So what if it’s not wine?” She motioned to it. “You want some?”
Elsa shook her head. “No. I’ve lost my appetite… and you reek of alcohol.”
Anna decided to gloss over the last part. ““No no no, don’t even— don’t do the queen thing right now. Just sit and eat like… like a human being for once, please? I don’t want to have a fight with you again.”
To her surprise, Elsa covered her mouth to yawn. “I guess…” She yawned the second time. “I guess I have to after all,” she said acceptingly, glossing over what she heard. The second yawn was fake, just to see if Anna would notice. A moment later, she looked over the plates and bowls. Full and fresh, as if nothing were brewing. What is she thinking with the alcohol?
Seemingly, Anna noticed. “Oh, the champagne chocolates are for me, you know.”
Lips slightly parted, Elsa shot her a look, barely controlling herself. Even the chocolates are spiked? Her mind was racing. Is Anna becoming an alcoholic? Picking up her spoon, she tried to make conversation. Attack is the best defense. “So, Anna, how was your day?”
Anna flinched, bowing over her plate, her mouth already full of Elsa’s chicken. Her eyes grew wide. “Ahhh… Fuwt giwe me a nomemt," came out a barely intelligible reply, motioning with her left hand.
Notably, Elsa didn’t smile at her sister’s antics; she just swallowed a spoonful of soup. The spices burned a bit, but in a good way. Her insides felt reinvigorated. Content, she directed her gaze at it, wondering what herbs were floating around. The liquid had such a nice tint to it.
Anna soon recovered. “Oh, so first I woke up and ate. Then I went to the stables to see Sven, and Olaf was there, and they were playing. The weather was so nice that I decided to ride my horse a little around town, just to stretch her legs, then Kristoff showed up and decided to join me.” She tore into the chicken with drunken hunger.
In between two sips, Elsa spoke. “And what did you two do for the rest of the day?” Her voice became one of concern. “Did Kristoff bring a bottle, or did you surprise him too?”
“We rode through the gates—I love that they are open again, Elsa—and first we went around the castle. And Sven," she swallowed and looked at her. “Sven is so much stronger than Bella that it’s not even—are you even listening?”
Elsa realized that the now empty bowl she’s been staring at had a slight crack in the bottom. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts and looked longingly at other plates. The soup was really good.
Anna, an alcoholic? For heaven’s sake...
Suddenly, she realized that Anna wasn’t talking and turned to her. “Ah, I’m sorry, Anna. I didn’t quite—” She paused. “You like the chicken?”
Anna's eyes struggled to focus before she took a bite. “Mhm. Very tasty. Crispy. Mm. Oh, right—" she looked at her. "Wait, what was I saying?”
Elsa took a chicken leg, noticing that it crunched just slightly. “You went riding, right?” she offered.
Anna remembered, picking up her second part of what was once an animal that ran about somewhere. “Ah. So me and Kristoff first rode around the castle,” she mouthed, stopping only to wipe her chin. “He was riding Sven, of course, who is so much stronger than a regular horse. Not that that’s weird, I mean,” she shrugged, “Sven’s a reindeer. Anyway, we got bored and went riding in the woods. Bella got a little scared, so we stopped and Kristoff kissed me, and then we returned, and I guess I slept under a tree in the yard for a while. Much nicer than laying down in the woods, you know. You should try it,” she said earnestly. Then, she looked up at her sister and froze, realizing what she had just drunkenly revealed.
Elsa choked, lowering the chicken as the image entered her mind. And started coughing, wide-eyed, covering her mouth. Anna slowly curled her legs under the chair and sat straight. Elsa soon recovered. “Are you two that close already?” she asked quietly. Or is that alcohol talking?
Anna squirmed under her sister’s astonished gaze, feeling the grease on her fingers. “I said... that you should try laying down on the...” she gulped. “Um, as for Kristoff...”
For what felt like an eternity, Elsa stared at Anna, frozen in the moment. And then she shook her head. Anna felt as if her sister were looking through her. “I’m sorry, Anna,” she muttered, softly placing the food remains onto her plate. She reached for a napkin to wipe her hands, then looked her sister in the eye. “We’ll continue this conversation some other time when you sober up.”
She carefully set the napkin into the bowl and rose up, heading for the door. Suddenly she looked small and impossibly tired. Surprised, Anna quickly freed her hands and got up from her chair, which screeched. “Elsa, wait.”
The queen hugged herself, halfway to the door. “Good night, Anna,” she said, voice trembling. Her footsteps were faint; so faint, it seemed as if she were a ghost, floating and ready to part with her material presentation.
“No, Elsa, no.” Anna ran to the door and got in the way. Her sister stopped, looking down. “We are not going through this again!”
“Anna, please move.”
She didn’t obey. Instead, her voice grew more determined. It reminded Elsa of that fateful day.
“No, Elsa. I won’t move. If— if I move, all you are going to do is lock yourself in that queenly, icy room and pretend that I don’t exist, just like you did last week.” She took a breath and warily pointed at Elsa, noticing her frown. “All because you decided that you overstepped our bounds. Well, guess what, Elsa, I have a say in that as much as you do!”
Elsa clutched her hands, dearly wishing that she had her gloves on. For the sake of her sister.
Anna continued her barrage. The smell of alcohol mingled with the air, at which Elsa scoffed, cutting her off. “Anna, you are drunk! You’re disgusting, and you need serious help if you mean to go on like this!”
Anna panted. “No! You need help. Do you have any idea how much it hurts to see you bring yourself to the brink of exhaustion?” A tear appeared, and she glanced at the table, then back at Elsa, who appeared to tremble. “To see you fading? To see you reject meals, to wake up and race to your study to see if you’re even alive? Do you?” She paused for a moment, and tears welled up. Elsa’s mind wandered to the champagne from... was it 1817?
“Look at your hair, your face. Or do you just not care? Is that it? Should I just excuse myself to my room all day and also start playing the martyr, wailing in self-pity of 'I almost killed my sister'?” Elsa looked up, hugging herself.
Anna responded in kind, nodding. “Is that it, Elsa? Deep inside, you couldn’t wait to show your suffering to the world, and being the heir,” she said mockingly, “gave you a platform. You wanted everyone to see. The whole kingdom watching you suffer." She sniffled, wiping her upper lip with her hand, "You want this," she growled. "You are the cause of my drinking.” Her words seemed rehearsed, and she sobbed. “You are making me do this…!”
Her mocking voice rang in Elsa’s mind. “Enough, Anna. You do not understand, and this ends now. Step aside!”
"I understand that you're killing yourself!" Anna spat. "I understand that you haven't eaten a proper meal in weeks! I understand that you work until you collapse and then force yourself to work more!"
"I do what I must." Elsa's voice was quiet, but there was steel in it. "Our people depend on me."
Her sister laughed. With warm rivulets streaming down her face, Anna laughed, heartily. Elsa saw her sister starting to unravel, bursting at the seams. She could feel the abundance of energy simultaneously directed at her and at no one in particular, and felt fear.
“And if I don't? Then what? Then what? Will you call for the guards, your highness?" she said with a slight sense of drunken disbelief. “Throw me into a dungeon, your highness? Will you run to the mountains? Or, or—" she imitated the excited voice of a little girl, “do you want to build a snowman out of me, Elsa?” Her expression was unreadable. Anna continued. “If you do, I’m alright with that. Fully. I'll do anything, if you would just stop killing yourself!”
“Anna..." Elsa sighed heavily, frost erupting around her. "Please, stop."
Anna started tearing her nightgown like parchment with strength she didn’t know she possessed, revealing her bra. “Here. I will let you. I give you permission. Freeze my lips shut first, if you want. Make us match. Go ahead,” she slurred, nodding with almost religious conviction. Her eyes pooled with warm tears. “Strike me. Please. G- give me a way out.”
Closing her eyes, Elsa shook her head. This was ridiculous; couldn’t Anna see? None of this made sense. Arendelle could starve, and yet here she was, listening to this… blabbering. She felt a bit lightheaded and took a deep breath. It was as if her lungs filled up with less air than before. The feeling was unusual, and her upper left arm... she didn’t remember bruising it, yet now it was hurting as if an animal stomped on it.
Anna was heaving, intently watching Elsa. Her sister had a painful expression and pressed her upper left arm. And took a step back. Her face took on a confused, almost innocent look. She stopped in the middle of her next rant, of which Elsa only noted words akin to "hate" and "death", which made her want to cry.
She tried to catch her breath, again, feeling funny. The pain was expanding through her chest, crawling up the left side of her neck. A cold sweat broke on her temples, and she wiped it with her hand, confused. One month of reserves. She still had to check the records. Her dress pulsed with light once, faintly. Her sister was winding down and starting to feel cold without a full dress, still watching her for a reaction. Something clicked and gave way to the scared, pushed-away voice of reason. "Elsa?" Anna's voice seemed to come from very far away. "Elsa, what's wrong?"
The ice around her slowly dissipated. Elsa clasped her hands above her chest and looked up at Anna. Her gaze was devoid of emotion. She took another step back, managing to utter a weak "no.” She blinked, once, pressing her chest. Twice. The pain was getting stronger, crushing and excruciating. Her only thought was that this must be similar to Marshmallow stepping on you.
A searing pain manifested, as if a cleaver had cut her chest in half. Then both sides were being torn apart. Her lungs were on fire, unresponding, trying to regain air. Her left arm burned as if someone had poured molten metal into her veins, and her vision blurred at the edges. Prickling, gnawing, burning, every particle of her chest was being torn apart to shreds. She managed to let out a quiet, surprised sound; it was as if an arrow flew and lodged itself into her bosom, its tail still rippling. She tried to speak, tried to tell Anna that something was wrong, that she needed help, but the words wouldn't come. Her knees buckled, and she felt herself falling, toppling backwards. In that infinite instant, Elsa understood—not with fear, but with a strange, detached clarity—that she would not see tomorrow. Crashing to the hard lacquered floor, her head struck it and rebounded. The world tilted sideways as darkness rushed in to claim her, and the last thing she saw was Anna's face, eyes wide with terror, mouth open in a scream that she couldn't hear over the roaring in her ears.
Then there was nothing.
By morning, the whole castle was up in arms. It was apparent that something had happened. No one knew where Princess Anna and Queen Elsa were. Some still claimed that they heard shouting. The queen’s private room was locked. Quiet whispers spread at every corner.
The sun had started to rise. Outside of the city, a disheveled man in a half buttoned green winter coat spurred his horse even more through the fog. The animal huffed and tried to gallop faster towards the castle gates. The guards shifted, weapons in their hands, watching him approach.
The stranger barely contained his horse and quickly dismounted, almost falling over. “I bring news! You have to let me see the Queen! It’s terrible!”
The guards were uneasy. His horse panicked, strutting around. “What news do you bear, man?” One of them pointed his spear towards him. “Speak! Why the Queen?”
The man was out of his mind. “You have to let me see her! Or Princess Anna! The, the—” he stuttered and finally yelled out, “The Queen’s ice palace is gone!”
A guard grabbed him by the sleeve. “Are you sure? What have you seen? Speak!”
His eyes darted from one guard to another. He gulped. “I am just a lumberjack, please don’t hurt me!” The guards exchanged worried glances. The man continued. “I— I was in the woods, and I saw,” he grabbed his head, “I saw it crumble. I saw it crack and crumble like it never existed!”
He latched onto the guard’s coat with his burly hands, a maniacal look in his eyes. “This is bad news, I’m telling you. Ooh, it is. Magic unbinds only if it’s released by its weaver," he said, looking at the other guard, “or if the weaver is released.” He nodded to himself, licking his lips. “Ooh, such it is, I’m telling you. Every child knows.”
The poor guard managed to throw him off, and he fell on the paved road, then scurried away. His horse panicked again. The other guard hesitated, then threw his spear away and ran towards the castle.
“Is this true, what you’re telling?” the guard yelled.
The lumberjack hopped on his horse and said nothing, leaving the servant in a wake of dust.
“Mommy, will the Queen make the earth icy so we can skate?” A boy asked his mom, walking to the castle’s yard.
“I don’t know, dear.” She smiled. “We’ll see soon. They called everyone to gather on the castle grounds.”
A formally clothed man, bearing the green-and-purple crocus on his sleeves, appeared on the terrace and surveyed the crowd.
“The recently crowned Queen of Arendelle, Princess Elsa, weaver of ice magic and rightful heir to the throne, suddenly fell ill two nights ago.” The castle messenger’s flat voice boomed through the crowd, accentuating every word. He took a breath, waiting for the murmur to subside. “With great sadness, Princess Anna of Arendelle announces that her sister, Queen Elsa, died peacefully this morning.”
The citizens looked at each other in shock. Brisk whispers erupted from the crowd.
Died? What?
Is this true?
What happened?
The messenger continued. “Princess Anna also hereby declares six days of mourning from this moment on.”
Another wave of conversations erupted, this time a bit louder. The most that the law allowed was three.
“Her decision that the gates of the castle remain open will be honored and coded into law for all occasions, except in a state of war. May she be remembered for her beauty, wit, intellect, and unique abilities. The funerals will be arranged in two weeks' time.”
The messenger folded his scroll and put it aside. “She also wants everyone to know that Princess Elsa’s last moments were spent with her family and that she died peacefully in her sleep.” He intoned in his normal voice, loud enough for everyone to hear.
“Mama, what does this mean?” The boy was tugging at his mother’s dress. “Can I skate? Mama?”
The woman was staring at the terrace, watching the man retreat. The courtyard would not be a source of amusement, now. Soon, Arendelle would see black banners being unfurled from every tower. She kneeled and hugged him tightly.
“No, my son," she whispered into his hair, thoughts tumbling one over the other. "Not anymore.”
The knife had been in her hand for some time before she consciously acknowledged it. Now, Anna relished its metallic gleam. She embraced the pain emanating from her left palm, clenching her fist. Blood dripped down her elbow, drops settling on the mattress. The test was successful. The knife was a work of art, adorned with wooden patterns that could only be made by a few experienced craftsmen in Arendelle. Her right hand was covered in ink splotches. A quill she found in Elsa’s study wasn’t the best.
Numb, she looked through Elsa’s window, overlooking the garden. The sky seemed awake. She yearned to smell the roses once more, but now there wouldn't be time. Her apple tree would bloom and bear fruit again, but there would be no one left to appreciate its sweetness among all others. And Sven would be sad. She could recall she'd promised more carrots. Abruptly she chuckled, more to herself and in madness; someone will be very confused once they find a wet carrot lying about somewhere. It meant something, that image, but she could not recall what it was.
The dawn was breaking, with the remaining moon rays falling upon her sister on the bed. Pale, beautiful, and immobile, hands clasped at her waist, even now she was dignified; Anna's hand caressing her sister's bodice was the last friendly touch Elsa would receive. And her dress would never pulse with light again. Anna knew that she was no match for her cold perfection. There would be no one else to fix the inevitable wrinkles on her dress, nor to place her braids over her chest. She wore the best attire she had; dark silk that glistened with falls of delicate lace. She had donned a necklace of emeralds and firedrops, surely her best pieces that have been locked away for a wedding of a lifetime.
Love would thaw. But there was no love, and nothing to thaw. Nothing was frozen. Elsa, her ever-unavailable sister, couldn’t run away anymore, couldn't push her away now. Anna bitterly laughed at the absurdity, raising the knife. There was still one way they'd be together.
The blade found its mark as she fell onto the bed beside her sister. Only in death could they finally be close.