A/N: To those who take offence to dialogue heavy writing styles: I switched to a far better style in Chapter 7. I hope you can bear with me until then.

A/N: Chapter 1 has been rewritten!

Your sister? She returned from the mountain, weak and cold.

Had she? When?

I tried to save her, but it was too late!

What?

Her skin was ice…

No! No, she was such a warm person…

...her hair turned white.

Oh no… what have I done?

Your sister is dead, because of you.

No! After - after all this time… I still killed her?

Elsa jolted awake. Further tremors rippled through her body. She blinked.

And again.

She was in bed.

Home.

Not on the fjord.

She sat up, resting her back against the headrest of her bed, quilt pooling around her waist. She looked around. She saw the desk on her right. She could just see her reply to Weselton's umpteenth request to reinstate trade peeking over its edge - she'd said no, of course. Beside the letter sat the pile of manifestos she had to read and sign by tomorrow's meeting.

Or was it today? What time was it?

She looked out the window. It was dark. The moon was bright, blotting out the light of the stars surrounding it. But they still shone around it, their tiny pinpricks of light reflected off of the fjord.

The fjord filled with water. Not covered in her ice.

She gazed at the dark surface before bringing her peripheral vision into her mind's eye. She saw the fjord in fragments, the view broken by the large triangular window taking up most of the wall. She saw the other three. Felt her bed.

This was her room. Her home.

And it was covered in ice.

Her eyes traveled over the white mist coating the glass, the sharp essence coating dark walls and floor, the thin ice forming a second layer over her bed. Blinking back the tears she had not felt wetting her cheeks until now, she held out her hand.

Your sister is dead...

"No!"

Elsa had meant to recall her ice. Instead a second pulse burst from her hand. The window whitened completely. The frost covering her walls now emerged from it, spikes that had until now seemed like drawings upon them now pointing to her, like fingers. Accusations. And again, there was her sister. Frozen. Dead. Killed by her hands, her fear, her inadequacy. Giving her life to save hers, Elsa's, one undeserving of anyone's love, much less the adoration showered upon her each day. Elsa shut her eyes.

"Love will thaw."

Her heart was still beating too fast. She couldn't breathe.

"Love will thaw!"

It had been so long since she had learned her new mantra. Why couldn't she move on? The nightmares had come daily at first, robbing her of sleep even as she made reparations for the harm she had wrought upon her people. But with Anna telling her she was forgiven over and over they had grown less frequent.

But they had never left.

At times Elsa thought they had. New dreams had taken over. Dreams where she was happy with her sister. With her new family. Dreams in which her powers were a blessing. Then the nightmare would return. And when it did it would return in full force. Vivid, as if to make up for lost time.

Like it had tonight.

She shut her eyes again. Her ice was not receding. Anna is alive and well she pleaded. But to whom? Herself? Her powers? She's forgiven me. I don't know how, but she's forgiven me. She loves me. Elsa's mind caught on the thought. Somehow, after all she had done - after all she hadn't done - Anna still loved her. We're making up for lost time. The time I took from her. We're happy! We're finally, finally happy! What's wrong with me?

She could still see Anna's frozen form. She willed new memories to replace it. The tales Anna had regaled her with every breakfast of what she'd done in their years apart, stories that made her snort whatever she was drinking out of her nose. She remembered the snow fights. She remembered how Anna had worked her through her fear of hitting her sister with her magic and the fun they'd had. She remembered the time Anna had "won". She remembered the times they'd traveled to her palace atop the North Mountain and seeing Olaf and Marshmallow playing as the sisters watched, laughing at how human and petty they could be. She remembered, soon after she'd gotten her sister back, the look on Anna's face as she waited for her approval of Kristoff. She remembered wearing a thoughtful on her face, stalling for time before unable to hold back her laughter.

We're happy.

She opened her eyes and inhaled. She exhaled through her nose. Her hands and curled into her chest but now her left reached out again. With Anna's hug fresh in her mind and skin she waved. The ice around her, on her, broke apart and swirled in the air above her head. It formed her snowflake, glittering at her.

It was beautiful.

She waved again and the creation shattered, fragments dispersing into the air and out of sight. She lay there, arm still outstretched. Too soon her sister's smile faded. Her features dimmed, glazing over with ice. Her arms, curved for a hug now parted - one reaching behind her, the other reaching up to block a sword. The castle gave way to a frozen fjord and -

I can't sleep like this.

Elsa slipped out of her bed. A thin cloak hug beside her door. She donned it and left the room.

There she is.

Elsa stood in the doorway. Even from here she could see the body tangled in its quilt and the mane of strawberry blonde hair rearing above it. She could remember the countless times she would wake her sister and be forced from the room until she could tame those red locks. She would demand Elsa not laugh and tell her they couldn't all be as fortunate as her.

But a smile would force its way to Elsa's lips all the same as it did now.

Should she go in?

She wanted to. She leaned forward but her feet wouldn't accommodate her wishes. Face falling she remembered the purpose of her visit and fell back, looking at Anna once more, her eyes tracing over every detail of her sister's body.

Her hair wasn't white: it was purely Anna. Even the trace of her childhood crime had vanished without a trace and for that she was glad. She would never tell her sister, but it had been torture to look upon it and be reminded of what she was. Of why they could never be together.

Her skin wasn't ice: even in the dim moonlight Elsa could see the natural tone of her sister's face. Human. Adorned with freckles. She was as alive as she always was and always had to be.

She wasn't weak: the tangled sheets would attest to that. Even asleep Elsa could see her sister lash out at invisible...somethings. Even her dreams were lively.

She wasn't cold: again Elsa concentrated on Anna's face. Her cheeks were flushed with warmth and life. She wasn't shivering. Her breath wasn't visible.

In short her sister was fine.

As Elsa knew she would be.

She scolded herself for panicking and reassured herself it was best that she hadn't entered, for Anna would not appreciate being stared at in such a way. She rubbed her eyes, brushing away the tears before they could form. She pushed the door gently, wincing at the faint sound of it closing shut and returned to her own room, tiptoeing as she had on her way out. When she entered she turned to close it behind her but stopped with her hand on the knob.

Not anymore.

With a small nod to herself she let the door rest against its frame, slightly ajar. She removed the cloak and slipped back into bed. She would make amends, she knew that, but that did not mean she could ever stop trying. And she would, for the rest of their lives. For longer, if she could.

She closed her eyes, desperate for emptiness of sleep.

...because of you.

"I'm so sorry Anna."

There was no restraining the tears now. They dripped from beneath her eyelids and trailed twin paths down her cheeks and nose. She shuddered, gasping for breath before breaking into sobs. They grew louder. Louder still until she muffled her cries with her pillow.

Don't let them see.

She stayed that way, shaking with the truth of what she'd done. She still made no effort to wipe her tears. What was the point when they were fully deserved, when they would just be replaced by more? She wailed herself to sleep.

And completed her ritual.