Author's Note: Inspired on some level by The book Theif by Markus Zusak, I own nothing

Elsa remembers the world in colors.

First there is white. She's three and with chubby cheeks and a short white braid she is running through the halls, being chased by her playful father while her mamma is napping; Tired from carrying around her baby sister. Her shoes catch each other in a hug and Elsa reaches out with tiny, flat hands to catch herself. When she pulls them back there's a sheet of white ice where her hand once was.

Next comes the blue. It's the color of her heart when Elsa holds her baby sister in her arms until her mother rips her away. Poor, sweet, Anna almost died because Elsa was careless. It's more than a little hard for her not to practically see the blue.

Red runs through her for the rest of her childhood. She's angry with herself, she's angry with God, she's angry at the walls of her empty room, she's even angry with her parents sometimes. And every day when Anna knocks on her door singing of snowmen she hates herself a bit more.

The grey comes and goes for months after her parents pass. Everything is in shades of greys, the castle drapes, people's clothes, the weather she sees through the windows, in people's faces and voices. It hangs itself in the air like a bug that refuses to leave. And doesn't until sometime later.

Purple seems to be the sweetest color of all in those frozen mountains.

It's the color of freedom.

Black is the worst of them all. She sees it with her eyes closed, on her knees cold against the ice. Hans is above her and she doesn't bother to try and stop the inevitable. It wasn't inevitable, Elsa doesn't feel pain she hears cracking, and when she opens her eyes her baby sister is frozen. Poor, sweet, Anna was dead and the world was dark.

White, blue, red, grey's, black, even sweet, sweet, purple Elsa comes to realize is nothing compared to yellow. The same yellow as the sun warming her face when ice, the good kind, glides under her skates.