A/N: Hi everybody. This fic is completed and will be three chapters long. I hope you all enjoy it.
Knock knock. "Elsa?" Anna is seven years old and restless, roaming the halls aimlessly for hours on end. "Do you wanna build a snowman?"
No answer. There never is anymore, not since their last snowman Olaf was built. The sisters used to be inseparable, playing in the snow and sharing jokes and secrets. Never was there one without the other. But now...
"It doesn't have to be a snowman," Anna wheedles through the keyhole. Why won't Elsa talk to her?
"Go away, Anna," her sister snaps. Anna supposes she got her wish.
"Okay, bye." Another day of locked doors and empty castles. Sure it's routine, but Anna can't keep the disappointment out of her voice. Elsa is so frosty and boring just sitting in her room all the time.
Every day Anna knocks on her sister's thick oaken door. Every time, she is rejected. And every day, the door looks exactly the same: smooth and unyielding, purple flowers on a white background. Beautiful, regal even in its appearance — but cold and distant, with no reason to be locked all the time. Just like Elsa herself.
Anna only sees her sister at mealtimes really. Their parents tread carefully at the table, asking Anna questions about her daily frolics around the castle: her latest run-in with a grumpy servant, the sixth time she crashed her bike into the same suit of armor, the time Anna tried to help with dinner and nearly burned the kitchen to ashes. They never ask Elsa why she never talks to Anna anymore, no matter how much they sense that Anna wants to know. Her father in particular only glances at Elsa once in a while, a crease in his brow.
Elsa herself just pokes at her food, all sullen and quiet. And she always wears those stupid blue gloves. One day, Anna asks her about it.
Her sister's piercing blue gaze meets Anna's green one. Elsa says nothing, drinking in the sight of her sibling all curious and naive.
"Elsa, why do you wear those gloves all the time?"
The blonde stares at her plate. "I just do."
"That's not an answer," Anna replies with a huff.
"Yes it is."
"No, it's not."
"Yeah it is."
"No, it's not!"
"Yes it is!"
"No, that's not an answer Elsa!"
"Anna, shut up." Are those tears in Elsa's eyes?
It would have been worse if her sister had yelled. Yelling Anna could handle, having been scolded by countless servants for her rather creative ways of alleviating boredom. But this quiet slap is almost too much for Anna. The redhead's eyes sting.
"Why do you hate me so?"
Elsa buries her head in her arms and doesn't reply. Their father flashes Anna a warning look and opens his mouth, but Anna beats him to it.
"Why don't you ever come out and build a snowman with me?"
Elsa flinches and stands abruptly from the table. So does Anna, fists clenched. As Elsa starts to run from the room, their mother blocks her path.
"Elsa," her mother says gently, "calm down, love." She starts to hug the blonde, who shrinks away wide-eyed.
"Don't touch me!" A frigid wind whips at Anna's braids. "I'm dangerous! Leave me alone!"
Elsa pushes past her mother. Anna hears frantic footsteps ascending the stairs, and the slam of a door. She turns around and gasps.
A thick layer of patterned frost covers the walls, spiraling into the hallway. Snow starts to fall as a layer of ice thickens under Anna's feet. Wind lashes her face. The younger girl backs up and runs from her father's anger and her mother's tearful sorrow. She only makes it to the Great Hall before she slips on the unforgiving terrain; Anna's arms flap uselessly as the ice rises to meet her.
A cold wind pushes her upright. Anna wobbles to the bottom of the stairs to see Elsa, only ten but with a definite air of majesty, a blue light in her gloved hand. A second later the ice vanishes. Her big sister turns and slams the door in Anna's face again. Anna can only stare after her.
Did Elsa just blow wind at her sister? What was that light, and how did it control the ice? Where did the frost and all the snow come from? What is going on?
Later that afternoon, Anna tries to ask her parents about what happened. Her mother claims a door was open somewhere in the castle, and that Elsa had nothing to do with the storm at the dining table. Her father just becomes angry and yells at Anna to forget the incident, which of course makes the redhead all the more determined to figure out her mysterious sister.
A/N: I promise the next chapter will be longer and more involved. Thank you for reading.