Care

“Do you wanna build a snowman?”

For a single moment, she almost said yes. She could hear how much her sister hurt, how desperate she was for someone other than the staff to play with. How much the little red-headed girl standing behind the door wanted her sister back, wanted what they had had before the night they’d supposedly left the castle to play in the snow back between them.

Elsa could hear how hopeful Anna was, hopeful that today might finally be the day she left her room, and for a single moment, she almost said yes.

“No, Anna. Go away.”

“…okay, bye.”

It hurt, listening to her sister walk away, her footsteps heavy on the padded carpet, just loud enough for Elsa to hear for a few minutes before Anna rounded the corner, her little sister gone from her corridor for another day. She wasn’t worried about the child; in a few minutes she’d be in the courtyard, harrying the help into playing a game of tag or hide-and-go-seek with her, games the staff always consented to, at least for a little while. It was hard to say no to those big blue eyes and that perfect little pout Anna had created over the years; reason number two why Elsa had yet to open her door and tell her sister to go away to her face.

Reason number one being she knew she’d never be able to, and would just end up hurting Anna again.

Glancing at the clock that ticked in the corner of her room, a small smile crossed her face as she read the time, prompting her to move to her window and open it ever so slightly so she could hear. Anna had beaten her this time; already the old woman in charge of the wash was scolding her and the men who worked in the stables for getting in everyone’s way. Others were laughing at the men’s vain attempts to catch her; everyone knew Anna wouldn’t be caught if she didn’t want to be, and that it was better to let her run her course and have her way before even trying.

That didn’t stop one of them from mounting an attempt. Ducking behind one of the poles, he slowly gathered up a handful of snow, some of the last that littered the ground as winter drew to an end. Following her path with keen eyes as his coworker chased her, the little girl just always avoiding his grasping hands, the man stood and threw.

The yard went silent as the snowball hit, gasps filling the air and the man’s face going pale as the little princess fell.

Else was almost to her door, ready to run to the yard and help her little sister, when laughter reached her through her still cracked window, Anna’s giggles stopping her from turning the knob her hand was already on.

“Are you okay, Princess,” many voices breathed in relief as Elsa returned to her window and watched them help her to her feet, the man who’d thrown the ball stuttering out apologies as he brushed snow from her clothes. Her cheeks pink from laughing and her nose red from the last of the cold, it was all Anna could do to shake her head and smile, silently reassuring the man and everyone else that she’d come to no hard.

“I’m fine,” she finally chocked out, chest heaving as she fought to recapture her breath. “I’m not hurt, promise,” she claimed, even as the matron of the washer women found a small hole in her dress, a tear that had appeared when her heel had caught the hem as she fell. Deciding that the time for fun had passed-and that they had few enough hands now that even a few couldn’t be spared for play an longer- it was the matron who waved everyone else back to work, and her who began to repair the dress, her and Anna sitting on a stone bench right under Elsa’s window.

And it was her Anna asked the question to.

“Did I do something to make Elsa stop caring about me?”

Elsa never heard the woman’s response-though through the window she’d slammed shut far too late, she knew the matron was venomously denying it, repeating the story about an illness that her parents had made up for the staff to stop their questions about her isolation. Ice frosted the window panes as she rapidly blinked, trying to hold back the sudden moisture that had formed in the corners of her eyes. She’s too young to understand, a small part of her whispered, the part that knew and understood, but it was quickly drowned out by the hurt, the rest of her that wanted to rage and cry and despise little Anna for her words.

“It’s because I care about her that I’m doing this,” Elsa muttered under her breath, for once ignoring the sudden pile of snow that appeared at her feet as she paced across her room. “I don’t want her to get hurt again. If only I could make her see…”

“Do you wanna build a snowman?”

“No…” Elsa whispered quietly, mind reeling at the thought she’d just had. Her parents would be furious if they found out, and it’s been so long since she’d willingly used it…  But Anna would never guess. She’d think it was made out of ice shavings from the kitchens, but the message would get across all the same.

Pulling the curtain across her window to shut out the sunlight, leaving only the unnatural glow that seemed to come from her ice to light her room, Elsa grabbed a bowl, pulled off her gloves, and set to work.

----------------------

The next morning, Anna would wake up to her door ajar, the slightest of openings when she’d thought she’d completely closed it the night before. She’d wake up cold, a blue mark that almost looked like the impression of a kiss just visible on her cheek when she glanced into the mirror melting from her face as she rubbed at it, trying to bring warmth back into her skin. And she’d wake up to the sight of a tiny, perfect little snowman sitting in a bowl on her bedside table, complete with the tiniest bits of coal for eyes and a sliver of carrot for its nose.

She’d never ask, and when the snowman melted a few days later she’d just empty out the bowl into a pot of flowers, but never again did Anna think that Elsa didn’t care.