Author's note: This is my first Frozen fanfiction, it's a long time coming and frankly, I think I missed the Frozen train waaaay before, but still, here it is.
Standard Disclaimer Applied
inspiration: ice skating with friends and milo ice candies
In the kingdom of Arendelle, visitors of all kinds, be it trade visitors or just simple tourists, will be treated to a story the very moment they dock. Of course, this story comes in different ways; incoherent babblings of a drunkard at the local tavern, fluttering incomplete sentences of gossiping housewives and excited, running sentences of bright-eyed children.
They will tell of the story of their queen.
In hush voices, they will tell you of a fearful child, isolated and alone, after having struck her sister with her ice powers. In hush voices tinted with grief instilled in bones, they will tell you of dead kings and queens, swallowed by the ocean, leaving orphans in a giant house. The story will progress and so will their voices, excitement and wonder will color their voice, (forgetting how they screamed and shouted and fled) they will tell you of a coronation, opening of long closed gates and a revelation of something white and cold. They will tell you of their queen, young and still fearful, building a castle made of ice at the side of the mountain and how everything glitters. They will tell you of how she defeated a usurper by melting her ice and driving him away with her giant snowman.
Of course, versions vary, some will tell you it's a giant snow bear or an army of it.
But one thing's in common of all these stories (no matter how many of its percentage was true); they will tell you of magic.
However, like in every kingdom, there is one odd man or woman, in rare cases, that tells the story a little bit differently. It's the same story, he will insist, as he carts off blocks of ice after ice.
He will tell you a story of a bright child, abandoned by memories, orphaned by parents and sibling, who will burn brighter and brighter. He will tell you with a tinge of seriousness and hint of fondness of how the bright child – young woman- chased her sister through white forests. He will tell you of wolf chases and broken sleds, of broken hearts and dying hearths, of sisters and melting hearts. He will tell you of a very ordinary girl, on her first day out in the world.
It's not magic, Kristoff. People laugh.
But Kristoff disagrees, because for him, Anna was magic too.
Anna was bravery and belief, faith and love and forgiveness. She is the fire crystals of his love expert friends, she is acceptance and she is spring.
She is love, and for Kristoff, that's more of a magic to him than anything else.
End notes: I was thinking of ending it at "Anna was magic too" but this happened. Tell me what you think!
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I am a starving, soon-to-be sleep-deprived graduating student, oh yeah, PM me too! Let's talk! :)