#frozenauweek

The princess in question was balanced atop a thrust of rock at the edges of the trolls’ domain. The barren stony valley bordered the forest. She’d spent the week scouring the treeline for a glimpse of the city. The forest was dense and vast, but Elsa had little else to occupy her time. If she climbed just so high and looked through just the right gap in the trees, she’d learned she could see clear to the harbor.

The fjord glittered reds and oranges in the sunset. Elsa watched the last of the light on Arendelle, nestled in fiery lit waters. She could just make out the spires of the castle. She imagined she could pick out her--- no, Anna’s room. 

The sun slid beneath the horizon, extinguishing the light on the water. She jumped down from her perch, landing softly on the dirt. It was time to go back. 

Time for magic.

-----   "The prophecy is nonsense, Bulda."   "Well, yeah," she agreed. "Probably." Pabbie narrowed his eyes. "We haven't made any prophecies for hundreds of years. There is no more stock in this one than the wives' tale that trolls kidnap children." Bulda deadpanned. Pabbie blinked at her once. Twice. "That--this is different," he sputtered. "We didn't kidnap them." "Speak for yourself," she said. "Anyway, that’s not what I’m here for. I need to know - are you going to tell her?" "No," Pabbie answered immediately. "Why not?” Bulda demanded, the rest of the argument already forming on her lips. Pabbie held his hands out, waving her into reluctant silence. "Whether there is any truth in the prophecy," Pabbie lowered his hands and chose his words carefully. "Or not, knowing it will only pressure her. We must not let her know." Bulda frowned. "Is she that out of control?" "I don't know," Pabbie sighed. "Not yet. I can't tell. Her magic is chaotic and unpredictable right now. It may even out after she learns to control it." "And if it doesn't?" Pabbie's face was grim. "Fighting her fate will only bring it upon her that much faster.” -----

Elsa picked her way through the sleeping trolls to the hillside of Pabbie’s cave. The sun was still dying on the horizon. All trolls were still sleeping. Yet she heard hushed voices echoing on the mountain.

“…should know…”

“…that is final…”

Pabbie’s voice, and one other. Two trolls emerged from the cave. They saw her immediately, obvious as she was, standing alone among the rocks. 

“Elsa,” Pabbie called. “Stay there. I’ll be right down.”

Elsa felt like she’d been caught doing something wrong. She nodded. The trolls whispered to each other for a minute more, careful to keep their voices low. Then they curled into balls and rolled down the pathway together. Pabbie slowed when he reached the foot of the path, but his companion escaped before Elsa could tell who it was. 

The elder extended his hand to Elsa, who scurried across the rocky ground to him. He took her hand in his and they walked wordlessly to the field to practice.

-----

"Freeze it."   Elsa raised a hand. The boulder (just a boulder - though Pabbie assured her, Elsa took care to check that she was not going to freeze one of the trolls) was suddenly shining in the moonlight with a thin layer of frost.   "Thaw it."   Pabbie never offered words of encouragement while they were training. He barely made any expression at all. He only told her what to do, and she obeyed him.   Or she tried to. The freezing, that was easy. That came naturally to her, like walking, like breathing. But taking away the ice was another beast entirely. she held both hands out, concentrating on melting. she imagined water dripping down the boulder. She imagined the frost flowing back into her, the magic traveling back into her fingertips and up her arms and settling somewhere around her heart, cool and comforting.   What actually happened was she stood with her arms outstretched, and the rock stayed just as frozen as when she started.   "Do not fear it," Pabbie ordered. "It is part of you. It will listen to you if you tell it what to do."   Elsa nodded, tempted to bite out, I am telling it what to do but she refrained. Anna would probably say something like that. Anna would probably be able to help her thaw the stupid thing. Her powers always worked better with Anna around.   Except— 

Until—   The frost thickened into a proper layer of ice, obscuring the rock itself until it resembled an iceberg. Elsa tried to slow the magic, but it kept pouring out of her open palms. The boulder was twice its size, and finally Pabbie stepped forward and shouted,   "Stop!” 

Elsa lowered her hands and tried not to think of the white in her sister's hair. Her hands clenched without thinking. The magic stopped.   "Elsa," the old troll sighed, crossing the field. Elsa bowed her head, bracing for his rebuke. "What were you thinking of?"   "Nothing,” she said too quickly. Pabbie fixed her a look. She frowned, admitted, "My sister."   "I know you miss your family, but every time...” Pabbie trailed off, recalling the last two times Elsa had lost control while practicing. “You must put them from your mind when you're using your powers."   "I know," she nodded. But the more she tried not to think about it, the harder it was to put from her mind. Every happy memory of home turned into her parents' worried faces, her sister cold and motionless, frost spiraling and covering the ballroom.   Pabbie offered his heavy hand. Elsa took it, and the earth started whispering to her.   "Do you feel the magic, Elsa?"   She nodded. Pabbie dug his feet into the ground, and the magic flowed through him into her, warm and heavy where hers was cold and airy. It was like he threw a blanket over her shoulders. Together they raised their hands. The ice thinned and finally water ran off the boulder.   "I think that is enough for tonight," Pabbie sighed. Elsa hung her head. Pabbie patted her hand in an attempt to be reassuring.   "Give it time. You are improving," he smiled distantly, his eyes far away and focused past her. Elsa nodded. Pabbie gave her hand one last squeeze and rolled away.   The moon was just rising. Pabbie tried to compromise their schedules, waking earlier so Elsa would not have to stay up as late - the trolls being nocturnal and all - but Elsa still had trouble adjusting to the long nights and short days.   The combination of magic and lack of sleep was taking its toll. Elsa was so tired. She turned, intending to return to her spot in Pabbie's cave. Instead of empty hillside, she found herself staring into the eyes of the boy, peeking out from behind a boulder. He realized he'd been caught and ducked out of sight. Elsa sighed.   "What are you doing?"   She heard his reindeer bleat, a shush, and then silence.   "You shouldn't watch it. It's dangerous."   She waited for his reaction. She hoped he would just leave. Or say nothing. He glanced out from the rock, and discovering Elsa to still be there, he hopped out. He did neither of the things she hoped, instead called across the field to her.   "I don't think it's dangerous. I think it's really cool." She stepped back as he walked out of his hiding spot. He noticed her retreat and stopped.   "You don't know," she shook her head, eyes shining with whatever it was Kristoff didn't know. But halfway across the field and with as much experience with other human children as the trolls, he didn’t take pause.   "You can make ice," he said in awe, walking to her again without thinking. Elsa wrapped her arms around herself, pressing her hands to her arms.   "You saw us. That night. Didn't you?" He didn't deny her accusation. Sven bounded next to him and let out a bray, nodding his head furiously. Kristoff groaned at his friend's lack of subtlety.   "Yeah," he admitted. "But we were just following the ice. We had to see where it was coming from!” Elsa's head snapped up. "What ice?" Kristoff blinked, surprised at her sudden reaction.   "Uh.. there was a trail of ice. From your horse. I mean, from you, but following your horse. It led to the trolls. I didn’t know it was you. We didn’t mean to spy or anything."   Elsa stared at him in disbelief. Ice. On the way there. She didn't even remember it. Was her control that weak? The wind stirred. The boy was walking towards her but she hardly noticed.   “Um... are you okay?"   "No," Elsa snapped, then quickly regretted it. "I'm... no. I'm sorry. I just...” That night was burned into her memory. It was a panicked whirlwind, but one that she remembered in excruciating detail. Horses. Mountainside. Fear. 

Not ice. Not magic. Her stomach dropped at the thought—or the lack of a thought. Her voice was tight.“I didn't know I made ice then."   "What's it like to make ice?" Elsa was about to retort a snappy I don’t want to talk about it—but she looked up at his eager face. He didn’t notice how uncomfortable she was. He was too excited, his grin wide and lighting up his face. It reminded her of Anna. His eagerness warmed her, drawing her out of days of solitude. She pondered her response carefully.   "It's cold here--" she tapped her chest. "-and I feel it in my arms and hands and then--I can make it snow." She waved her hands in front of her and a snowball appeared. Do the magic. She hurled it into the air and snowflakes fell gently around them.   "Wow," he stared open-mouthed at the sudden snowfall. "That's... wow." Snow dusted the moss, melting against the warm earth. The field shined like starlight. Elsa bowed her head, as though she was ashamed of it.   "Yeah. But it's dangerous," she repeated to the ground. Kristoff shook his head.   "I still think it's cool." He chuckled. Elsa lifted her head, raising her eyebrows at the bad joke. Kristoff's laugh faded.   "Thank you," Elsa said at last.   "I'm Kristoff," he stuck out his bare hand to Elsa. "By the way." She eyed the hand like it might attack her. Kristoff looked from her face to his arm. His expression changed - offended somehow, and resigned. "Oh," he muttered, like he just figured something out. "Cause you're a princess and all."   Elsa didn't comprehend--until his face fell and he said princess, and she realized he thought that she thought-- "No," she said quickly. "It's not that--you're not--" But he wasn't listening anymore, so she rushed forward and grabbed his hand. "I'm Elsa," she said, shaking his hand. It was nice, she realized, just to feel another person again.   "Princess Elsa." Kristoff grasped her hand as well, but his expression was still wary. Elsa shook her heard. In the mountains with only one other human, she couldn't feel less like a princess.   "Just Elsa."   “Oh. Okay,” Kristoff smiled. "Elsa."

-----

There was a crowd waiting for Pabbie when he returned to his cave. Half a dozen trolls ringed the entrance.

“Grand Pabbie,”

He furrowed his brow.

Your future is bleak. Your kingdom will splinter.

“The council wishes to speak with you.”

-----

Elsa, Kristoff, and Sven wandered along the edge of the forest. Or rather Kristoff and Sven led the way and Elsa followed. Both were adjusting to the trolls’ nocturnal schedule, and despite the moon high in the sky, neither was tired. 

“You should come harvesting with me sometime,” Kristoff was saying. He hopped up onto a log, sticking out his arms for balance when he wobbled dangerously.

“Harvesting?”

He jumped off the end of the log and stuck out his chest with pride. “We’re ice harvesters.”

“You harvest… ice?” The image was ridiculous, but Elsa pictured them chipping away at an iceberg. She pushed the thought aside--suddenly his enthusiasm for her powers made a whole lot more sense.

“Yeah, not all of us can just… whoosh and make it, you know,” he laughed. “We have to cut it out of the mountain!” Elsa smiled.

“That sounds hard.”

“Yeah, it’s real hard work—sometimes we’re gone for weeks,” Kristoff swatted a fern that threatened to hit him in the face. He was walking a deliberate path, turning at landmarks – a mossy boulder, a crooked tree, a ford in the stream—talking nonstop all the while. Elsa liked just listening to him. Hearing about the harvesting was interesting, for one thing, but it was wonderful to not think about magic or being a princess and just walk with someone. 

“…each cube has to be the same size, or we can’t sell them…“ 

The trees were getting thinner. The ground was rock. Elsa heard a sharp hissing noise and jumped. 

“What was that?”

“Oh, just one of the hot springs,” Kristoff shrugged. “They do that a lot.” He kept walking forward, toward the creepy noises. Elsa stopped.

“Wait, where are we going?”

“Oh. Oh yeah. I totally forgot you were—I mean, you can come with us, it’s gonna be fun and we could use one more—“

“Kristoff.” There was a beat in which Elsa processed—and was horrified--that she’d interrupted him. Her tutors would lecture her for hours. But Kristoff just broke off his rambling with a sheepish grin, knowing full well he’d been over-explaining, and she remembered that her tutors weren’t there.

“Hot springs,” he answered. “We’re meeting some of the guys to play hockey.”

Guys. Play. 

Hockey?

“Um… what?” Um. Good job, Elsa. Way to converse like a lady. Would her parents even recognize her when she got home?

“Hockey. Y’know. You try to hit the puck into the other team’s goal…” Elsa’s face was blank.  “No...? Princesses don’t play hockey?”

“No,” she said. “Princesses do not.”

“Well you’re just Elsa now, so you can play hockey with us!”

“Okay…”

-----

Your land shall be cursed with unending winter.

“One at a time,” Pabbie raised his hands over the group, trying to quell the overlapping voices. They fell silent, looking to each other. One, the tallest, stepped forward. His pale red gems caught the moonlight. 

“Orm,” Pabbie inclined his head. “Please. What do you have to say?”

“Pabbie,” Orm intoned, his deep voice filling the cave. “I am sure you know the prophecies. ‘All will perish in snow and ice.’ We must not let it come to pass. Not only for us, but for the innocent lives in the town.”

“I agree. We must not. But there is nothing to say that Elsa is part of the prophecy.”

“She can create snow, for Odin’s sake!” one of the younger members of the group, Edda, exclaimed. “When has there been a clearer sign?”

“Many, many times,” was Pabbie’s simple reply. 

“Even if she is not the prophecy,” a squat troll with long tufts of grassy hair raised a hand to indicate herself. “She should know that she might be.”

“That will just cause her needless grief!” Pabbie shouted, starting to lose his temper.

“He has a point,” a quiet voice in the back agreed. Her blue gems shone when she spoke, and the crowd became somehow calmer. Pabbie sighed, getting control of his anger.

“Thank you, Verdand,” 

“Pabbie,” A troll even older than Pabbie, doubled over and mossy with age, stepped forward. “No. The signs are clear. You want to protect the girl.”

Pabbie blanched. The silence lay thick as all the trolls stared at him.

“Yes, Nori,” he admitted. “You’re right. I don’t want to place the burden of the entire kingdom on her yet. Is that so wrong?”

Pabbie felt the pity, the judgement, the open scorn in their eyes. He knew how foolish he must sound, needlessly shielding the human girl from the truth, lying to her because he wanted to save her innocence. 

Orm shook his mossy head. “You forget she is to be queen. She has the burden of a kingdom on her already.”

“We know the prophecy. We have a responsibility,” Edda said gently. 

“Those villagers know it too. What will happen when she returns and they mob her?” Nori added.

“They won’t because we will teach her how to use her magic!” Pabbie shouted, silencing them again. “We will teach her to use magic, she will not be a threat, and the prophecy will not come to pass!”

“Pabbie,” Orm put a hand on his old friend’s shoulder. “The council has already reached a unanimous decision. We are more than happy to care for the girl and teach her our ways. But she must know why. You must tell her. Tonight.”

Pabbie looked to the faces of his friends for any sympathy, any chance he might talk them out of this decision. They looked on him not unkindly, but determinedly. There would be no compromising. He thought of the girl, the weight of her sisters’s life already hanging over her head. She was already destined to care for the entire kingdom. Perhaps she should know, so that she might not harm anyone again. Pabbie felt uneasy, but he saw the wisdom in his friends’ words.

“Very well,” Pabbie sighed. “Let us go.”

-----

“Hey guys!” Kristoff called into the clearing. Elsa hung back a few steps as a couple trolls rolled over to Kristoff and tackled him. Half a dozen more were scattered about, knocking a stone around with carved branches.

“Kristoff!” one shouted. 

“We’re gonna have to play 4-a-side today,” the other pouted, crossing her arms. Kristoff frowned and counted the trolls. Six-seven-eight he mouthed, nine, pointing to himself… Sven jumped up, but Kristoff shook his head, still pointing at himself. He scanned the group, making sure he hadn’t missed anyone… and his eyes found Elsa.

“Elsa?” He asked. The entire group turned their attention to her, and she wasn’t quite sure why until she noticed Kristoff pointing at her and the trolls huddled into two slightly uneven groups. 

“What—me? No. I don’t even know how to play.”

“Aw, it’s easy!” the second troll said, turning her attention to Elsa, not even blinking that she was human—or magic—or so hopelessly out of place. Kristoff could see her distress.

“You don’t have to,” he offered, though clearly he wanted her to join. “It’s cool.”

“I…” 

Something nudged her, pushing her forward until she was on Kristoff’s level. She twisted around to see Sven’s face poking out from behind her. He offered a sheepish smile, then butted his head on her hand. After a moment Elsa understood and scratched between his ears. 

“Well…” she looked to the group of trolls huddled around Kristoff, staring at her expectantly. She thought briefly of the tutors, her parents, her— she tried to stop thinking about them because it always ended in heartache and something freezing— but she couldn’t help but finish the thought of her sister. Anna would say yes. She tried to force the image out of her mind, but her magic didn’t seem to care this time. The tension she’d been carrying from the frozen boulder finally loosened. Elsa, slowly, let herself relax, and found she was not losing control.

Sometimes Anna catches Elsa looking emptily at her hands. Staring down like they're not a part of her and she's seeing them for the first time.

"I see their faces," she says, cracking.

"It's not your fault," Anna whispers and gathers her close.

“They stare at me.” Elsa's dark, haunted eyes turn to her, begging for things Anna cannot give her.

"They're not looking at you, Elsa. You weren't there."

Some nights Anna jerks awake, hair on the back of her neck tingling, and freezes at the figure hovering in the bed above her. Elsa is all ice, then; solid and hard, eyes cold and empty. Her arm is cocked back ready to strike: powerful, coiled, waiting.

"Elsa?" she whispers, heart pounding, at the thing above her.

She says it again, more forcefully this time. Harder. "Elsa."

It blinks.

"Come back to me, Elsa.”

It takes her a moment to get through because sometimes her sister still wakes up as a weapon. How do you disarm something that doesn't know what it is?

How do you bring back summer?

_________________________________________________________

Before Elsa, there was only Anna.

Anna who woke up confused and alone in a box of a bedroom, (which reminded her far far too much of her childhood), alone in a world where there was nobody who loved her. Sure, people knew Captain America. But no one knew Anna.

Anna, the girl who lived with perpetual scabbed knees and was as stubborn as an ass. Who sung at the top of her lungs off-key and didn't care what anyone thought. Who took her time eating ice cream in the summer because she wanted it to last as long as possible, even if it ran down her fingers and made everything sticky. Anna, who had a sister.

A sister no one talked about, but instead looked quickly away whenever her name ghosts across someone's lips. A sister the nation mourned and memorialized, but forgot that before Elsa was an American hero, she was Anna's, first. No one knew Elsa the same way no one knew Anna. Who they really were before the world got in the way. The Elsa who bandaged Anna's knees and bought her ice cream in the summer. The Elsa who held Anna when she had nightmares and checked for monsters before she went to bed.

Anna who went to sleep trying to save the world only to wake up to one that still needs so much help and sometimes she just feels so tired.

It’s been three years since she thawed, but sometimes it feels like the cold never left her because some mornings Anna wakes up shivering, gasping for breath like she's still drowning; like she's still falling out of the sky.

But then Kristoff is there, and with one hand on her back, rubs the life back into her. He's got wings; he catches her.

Curling into him, she isn't Captain America anymore, no one's princess, no one's captain. The wings are locked up at headquarters, but Kristoff doesn't need them, he's a healer with his hands. It's as simple as a touch; as murmured words to soothe her when she wakes from a nightmare. When he smoothes her hair and holds her close so she can hears the thump thump of his heart and knows she has a place in this new century. They aren't soldiers anymore and he knows Anna. She's on his left, he’s on her right, and with Elsa somewhere in the middle, together they can move forward.

_________________________________________________________

They're each others’ fixer-uppers - all of them. Each have their broken pieces and scars, but sometimes it’s easier to heal someone other than yourself: to focus on someone else's hurt instead of your own. And eventually, one day, you wake up to realize those hurts are gone; that they don't ache the same way they used to. Because they're not alone in their pain. Together they keep the ghosts at bay.

Kristoff knows. He's washed the blood off plenty of other people's hands and helped put them back together again. He stands with Elsa as they do the dishes in a heavy comfortable silence and sometimes Anna wakes up to them talking in hushed voices out on the fire escape late into the night.

He works at the VA, catching people after they fall, helping them land: to find footing, solid ground. Roots. Something new to stand on. It's something they all need, terra firma, solid ground when the plates between past and present can shift so suddenly and they fall between the cracks.

Alone they're a fraction of their broken parts but together they’re whole; a family. They're bare in front of each other - naked with their hurts and their pain, and there is no hiding in their home. They can’t; there’s nowhere to hide. Because Elsa bears hers on her arm, Kristoff in his wings, and Anna with the things she carries on her back.

But more and more it’s Elsa who wrests control from her past, and the Winter Soldier slowly realizes it’s not welcome in their home anymore. There is no place for it here.

Not when Kristoff works out with Elsa and they take turns bench pressing each other effortlessly, Elsa smirking while he complains whenever she does it one-handed.

When they make pancakes and eggs on Sunday mornings.

When shadows fade a little farther away as Elsa hums under her breath while she's cooking. Anna walks into the kitchen while she's singing to the radio like she used to and it almost seems like nothing ever happened. Almost as though they’re kids again.

Like in the middle of the night when Anna shuffles into the living room in her kitty cat PJs, yawning and rubbing her eyes. Elsa’s already wrapped up in a blanket on the couch with a book in her lap.

“Can’t sleep? Elsa asks.

Anna shakes her head. "Nope. Feel like I've done enough of that for a lifetime.” She slumps into the couch and buries herself into her sister’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Elsa says. "Me too."