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Your sister is dead! The words seemed to echo in the vast, empty space that now made up her thoughts. Dead! Because of you!
And Elsa was absolutely sure that her body had just... stopped. She could no longer hear the slight whoosh of the wind, or Hans' breathing. She couldn't feel the ice under the hand she was leaning on, or smell the cold in the air. But she could think, though right now she was dearly wishing that she had lost that ability as well.
All she saw in her mind's eye was Anna. All she heard was her voice; laughing, teasing, pleading, crying and a thousand more different inflections of warmth and hurt and oh Gods, no, no, no - not Anna. Anyone but Anna.
Somewhere, she registered the sound of Hans drawing his sword and knew why; knew that she was probably about to die. But care? No, she couldn't bring herself to do that.
She deserved whatever punishment was fitting for killing her beloved sister - even if that punishment was to die herself.
You'll be there, won't you? she begged of the smiling Anna on the inside of her eyelids. Waiting for me? Please, be there. I don't mind if you're angry - you have every right to be - but please let me see you again. Her chest heaved in a silent sob. Just one more look into your eyes, Anna; that's all I ask.
We can build a snowman... A sharp, hitched breath. And then... then I'll go wherever I deserve to go. For murdering you. Oh, Anna, I'm so, so sorry. I never meant to hurt you; you have to know that.
The sword, she knew, was rising, and she tensed her shoulders; unwilling to move.
Please know that. All I ever wanted to do was love you.
I'll see you soon - won't I?
"NO!"
And Elsa's heart - which had surely stopped beating what felt like hours ago - jumped at the familiar voice, which was not in her mind, but right next to her. Not gentle, as it had almost always been, but panicked, frightened.
Determined.
Disbelievingly, Elsa turned her head, and in a single instant, her heart started pounding so fast that the roaring thumping against her ribs was the only thing she could hear.
"ANNA!"
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"NO!" She jerked to a seat and woke herself with a hoarse cry; hazy, wide eyes blinking into the moonlit room as she saw her hand stretched out in front of her face; grasping, reaching for something that was too far away.
"God..." Elsa of Arendelle fell back onto her bed with a harsh exhale, and wiped shakily at the tears she could feel on her face. Her skin was unusually hot, and a glance at her surroundings through blurry, ice-blue eyes saw the better part of her pillows and covers spread in a semi-circle around the bed, rather than on it.
Just a nightmare, she told herself as she squeezed her eyes shut and willed her heartbeat back to a normal pace in spite of her aching, hitching breaths. It's over, remember? Anna is alive. She's alright.
... Isn't she?
The icy breath of doubt crept up on her, and its clammy hands clenched at her insides as blue eyes snapped open again, flickering frantically around the room. Anna had given her that intricately carved, wooden box that she now kept her jewelry in, she recalled. Not long ago; a bare week. Just a few days after... after the incident that still haunted her.
Or had that been a dream?
Trembling, the young queen pushed herself to a stand on the chilly, stone floor, and ignored the glittering frost slowly creeping out from her bare feet as she hurriedly pulled a soft robe over her mostly exposed body. The shimmering, crackling ice followed her as she left her chambers and half-ran down the darkened hallways; swallowing against the lump that was rising higher and higher in her throat and blinking rapidly to scatter the tears.
Then she was at the door, breathing shallow, and although her hand was shaking so badly that she could barely move it, she willed it to grasp the handle and push; anxious eyes searching as soon as the heavy door opened just a fraction.
Her knees ached when they impacted the hard floors abruptly, and yet Elsa just stared; one hand in front of her mouth, and the other clenched tightly in the material of her robe.
In the bed a few feet away, was Anna. Utterly and completely dead to the world with tanned, bare arms and legs poking out from soft, white covers that had been hopelessly tangled around her as she slept. Fiery, copper hair - almost obsidian in the low light - was spread wildly around her head and shoulders, and Elsa could faintly hear her murmuring grouchily as the fingers of one, freckled hand dug into the mattress.
Slowly and silently, the young queen rose to her feet and closed the door again - from the inside - before making her way over to the massive bed and its single occupant. She knelt there, just beside it, and found a slender hand that immediately curled around her own.
"No more broccoli, Gerda..." Anna mumbled sadly, and Elsa was hard pressed to contain the watery chuckle that bubbled up.
She managed, though, and felt her lips shape a smile as she brought Anna's hand to her cheek and felt the real, living warmth beneath the lightly calloused skin.
She's safe, she told herself, and felt her heart lighten so abruptly that the sensation made her dizzy. In spite of everything, she's here, and safe, and alive. Thank God.
"I finally understand!" Anna's voice in her head - from not so long ago, when she'd climbed the icy steps.
No, she silently told the sleeping girl as she held Anna's hand in both of her own, and just watched her sister breathe. You don't understand. Not really. Elsa touched her lips almost fearfully to Anna's knuckles, and closed her eyes. But that's alright.
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