Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, only the plot. I don't own the cover image either!

Warnings: This is Elsanna (albeit AU and my first non-incest). Also, character's might be a little OOC (out of character), especially at the beginning. I tried to keep it to a minimum but, its part of it.

Author's Notes: This had been lying around my computer for a while. I finished it today and wanted to share it. It's a bit different, mostly for the AU and the first person and present time point of view. I hope you give it a chance though. ^-^

For the Growth of the Flower of Love: You must sow the seed

Episode One:

And my life was ruined

The sky was as bright, shimmering and splendid as the pale color of my blue orbs. It was daybreak, and I awoke refreshed, my cells shivering with excitement at such a wonderful morning. I threw myself off my enormous bed and rushed across the wooden floor of my bedchambers towards my window. I opened it with unrestrained excitement, for that morning, like many others, my dear friends would enter my bedroom as quickly and as cheerily as the rays of sun light. I was not disappointed. At the sight of my beauty my cherished winged companions flew over my head, curving by the door and returning to my side. They chirped and danced around me, some pecking at my slightly disheveled locks to restore them into their immaculate state while others helped me out of my nightgown and into the day's chosen regal dress.

I couldn't have asked for a better life. Although, truth be told, I know others may wonder how it is possible for nature's offspring, birds in fact, to help me groom…

Well, that is only because I am Anna! Princess and future Queen of Arendelle!

Why, you must pardon my unbecoming bragging. Is just that—

Knock, knock, knock!

Darn. I groan. There's that incessant tapping at my door that really shouldn't occur before 11 am.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

It got worst.

"Anna! Get up already or you will be late for school!" My mistake, now it got worst.

Well, there goes my wonderful morning of dreaming…

That was my mother by the way, because no, no matter how much I use my morning hours (and many other hours of the day) to imagine a wonderful life where I'm a freaking princess in a freaking wonderful world where animals help me dress and I'm actually happy to be awake at the unnecessary creation of dawn…my enduring wishes do not make it any more real.

It is still all a fantasy created by me, and me is…

"Anna if you don't get up right now I swear to God I will go in there with a bucket of ice cold water that I will drop on your head, because for the life of me you will not miss your first day of high school!"

Yeap! You guessed it! I'm a high school student, a freshmen to be precise (or freshgirl), who just turned fifteen last month and is currently being harassed by her mother to go to this place of imprisonment, I mean…education. How I wish it was the seventeen century and not the twenty first century where girls actually have to go to school; I know, all those feminists are turning in their graves right now, but can you blame me? It's fucking 7:30 in the morning! On a Monday! If you ever want to prove that God doesn't exist, just remember, Monday's do.

Whatever, I roll out of my twin sized bed with the longest groan I can muster. I hope mom hears it all the way downstairs. It would push her off my back, if only for a short while.

I hurry to the bathroom. And by that I mean that I drag my feet along the hallway until I reach the door that I push open with my forehead. After closing it, I drop all of my clothes on the floor, wash my face, and then take a bath that makes me swear under my breath because the damn water heater is broken again. After, cleaned but not really refreshed (that can only happen if this bath had taken place after 11 am), I dry myself and realize that in my drowsiness I have forgotten my clothes in my room, which forces me to scurry down the hall in only a towel while hoping no one decides to come up to check on me again; that would be so embarrassing.

Now that definitely woke me up. This is the same ritual I have every school morning, I don't understand why I never learn. How hard can it be to remember to bring clothes with me? Not like it matters, some things are just not worth thinking over.

Slowly, I descend the stairs and head into the kitchen where mom is preparing breakfast. She's on the stove, working over a frying pan, but my father is nowhere in sight; he probably already left for work. I make my way to the table and ruffle my little brother's tuft of copper hair as I sit down beside him. He barely noticed, his freckled face almost falling onto the cereal before him. I take pity on him, although I laugh at his expense anyway, and push his forehead back so he won't drown in chocolate milk.

"You are finally up." My mother says, too cheerful for the time of day.

I grunt in response.

"What? Aren't you excited? You are a high-schooler now!" Her grin makes it seem like she's the one who is a high-schooler now. She drops some pancakes on my plate and I stare at them.

No, I'm not excited at all. I already know how this is going to go. Yet, I force myself to smile a bit and say, "Yeah, totally", for her sake.

But she's my mother, and as such she knows there's no excitement whatsoever in my voice and therefore there really is none in my whole being either. Yet also, because she is my mother, she refrains from pushing the subject and just smirks slightly at my inevitable fate before turning back to the stove.

I finish my breakfast rather quickly. In a way I guess I'm hoping for this day to start and finish as quickly as possible. However, as the laws of relativity go, my wish is ignored and my prayers go unheard as I waste away my life in one of the many gaunt desks the school has to offer.

You know in anime, they have this ceremony where they welcome all the newcomers. It looks like a really boring procedure, but at least it lets your know who are all the other newbies like yourself, who might be picked on with you, or in your place; unlike in real life, where they just throw you to the wolves and expect you to survive.

If I stare through the window and drown out the teacher's incessant babbling, I can almost see Arendelle. That wonderful land I've created in my mind, of which I'm the princess. I imagine that there must be a place like that in this world; new and exciting, full of wonder and magic.

I'm not there though, in Arendelle. I'm here, at St. Martin's High School (what's up with that name? This is not a catholic school), and I'm not even pretending to listen to the gibberish that leaves the teacher's mouth.

The bell couldn't have sounded fast enough, and as I stroll over the tiled floors on the second story of St. Martin's High School of Florida, I conclude clearly and vehemently that I will not spend another hour like the last one.

Quickly, I type a text to my best friend, asking him to meet me by the front gates.

The only good thing about high school is that there are no guards by the school entrance. No one to make sure you stay inside. I see my friend leaning against one of the metal gates, his hands busy with a rusty old camera he never leaves behind.

"Hey Kristoff!" I shout, sincerely happy to see him. We spoke little during summer break and saw each other even less because he took a trip to visit his family all the way up in the mountains of Idaho.

"Anna!" His enthusiasm makes me grin and his bear hug makes me cough. "How are you babe?"

Oh no, that was not going to roll. "Babe?" I give him a disapproving stare as we begin our walk out of the school's premises. "No, don't call me that."

I'm proud to say that he deflates instantly.

"Aw don't be like that. You are the only one I can practice my lines on!" He whines.

I roll my eyes, amused among the annoyance. He always does this, trying to play his "smooth" pick-up lines on me; not that a single word counts as a line, but yeah.

"And I will never understand why you pick me for it. Is not like it helps you anyway, you are still a dork!" I tease. He is a cute dork I'll admit (never to him) but a dork nonetheless.

"Only when I'm with you!" He refutes childishly, going back to tinker with his camera.

"Yeah keep telling yourself that's the only reason why no girl falls for you." I smile at his seemingly offended expression, but he's a tough boy, it will take more than that to actually hurt him. That's probably why our friendship has lasted so long too.

With a shove to my shoulder and my promise of paying for the upcoming meal everything is forgiven; he's easy to please.

Our bellies full and school hours spent, we return to the school with the most leisure pace we can muster, and part ways to our respective classrooms.

Who would have thought two and a half hours left of class could go by so slowly, and by the time the last bell of the day rings I'm utterly exhausted.

I pull one strap of my backpack over a shoulder and make my way out of the classroom, out of the school and far, far away from its premises without a thought or a second glance; and to think it's only Monday.

My only reprieve are my anime and video games, which I'm not supposed to play during weekdays but that's what hand-held consoles that you can easily hide from your mother's sight are for.

My mind is wonderfully absent of my present with thoughts of amazing imaginary worlds and awesome combat systems, when I hear the most obnoxious and irritating voice I had hoped to never have the displeasure of hearing again.

Actually, I thought this squeaky bitch had been sent to juvie or something.

Alas, her pimple full face and ridiculous nose ring are here to prove me wrong.

"My, my, if it isn't tomato!" Her squeaky voice penetrates into my eardrums; like a mosquito I tell you.

"No, no, Shirley, I think is tom-A-to." The voice is thick, like the owner's body, yet with a surprising feminine undertone.

I roll my eyes at their stupid, uncreative and repetitive joke. They've pulled that one since seventh grade, just because of my hair.

"Hello Marshmallow!" I smirk at the round…everything (face, body, legs, arms…double chin) that is Shirley's sidekick. She's pale like a salamander, so really I couldn't have been nicer with my nickname for her.

She frowns deeply, evidently hating the name that suits her so well. "Stupid, call me that again and I will make you a vegetable smoothie!" She growls.

Seriously? Did she just call me stupid while implying that as a tomato I'm a vegetable?

"Tomatoes are fruits you dumbass." I provoke, not that they need much of that. I begin to pull my backpack from my shoulder as I wait for their comeback, because this is not the first encounter I've had with these girls and I already know how it's going to end.

Fat Girl snarls like a bull, she even bends slightly as if preparing to charge at me, but Whiney Voice Shirley puts a hand on her shoulder preventing her from attacking.

"Now, now Janice, don't be hasty." She advices in that superior voice she thinks makes her so great; her mother is a manager at a bank, and somehow her conclusion (delusion) is that they are important people with money.

"Listen to Miss Banker here Janice, because she's clearly better and wiser than us, even though she goes to the same public school that we do!" I say, speaking directly to Janice, although we all know I'm taking a jab at Miss Shirley's pride.

It's her own fault really. Last year, just before graduation, Shirley begged her mother to enroll her in the High School for Performing Arts of Florida, yet she could not pass the auditions and her mother could not pay (or bribe) her acceptance. Therefore, the fact that she's studying in a public school, especially with all of us who she bragged to, is a real blow to her gigantic ego; one I'm not above imparting on her.

It doesn't take much more after that. Shirley takes her hand off Janice's shoulder and the big girl comes barreling towards me like a wayward train.

My first instinct is to run, but because I know I would have more than two bullies if I had never stood up for myself, I brace myself for a fight, again.

Shirley stands back, always all talk and no action, for which I'm glad right now because I can barely take Janice. I'm also glad for how thin and somewhat scrawny I am even at fifteen years of age. My lithe form aides me in evading most of her heavy and slow punches. I duck under her arm and walk around her, waiting for her to tire out. No I don't know boxing, but I've seen enough Bruce Lee and Rocky movies to know how this is supposed to work. And it does, work I mean, I dodge her punches and efforts at grabbing me for the most part, while Shirley keeps "coaching" her from ten feet away, until a yell catches my attention. A rookie mistake, Lee would be so ashamed. Still, even I, a "rebel", tend to hesitate at the sound of an authoritarian figure; an adult. It is clearly not the same for my opponent, who wastes no time in punching me right on the mouth to then throw me on the ground with her heavy weight. I taste blood on my tongue, which disgusts me greatly, and I'm quite dizzy and out of breath even after all the weight is pulled off of me.

Composing myself as I stand and wipe at my broken lip, I see a gray haired man has come to my rescue. He's holding onto Janice while Shirley is talking bullshit about how she tried to stop us. Whiney lying bitch.

The man is scowling and scolding us all, while saying something about calling our parents. I don't have time for this. Besides, my parents will surely be made aware of what happened once I go into the house with dirty clothes and a bleeding mouth. So with a frown that I'm sure won't leave me for the rest of the day, I grab my backpack, mutter a quick 'I'm sorry' and briskly walk away.

I end up running all the way to my house. I stop at the door and take a few deep breaths before entering as softly as I can. But of course, nothing happens within this house that my mother knows nothing about, and the soft click of the door is enough to bring attention to me.

As most of the time, she comes from the kitchen, a cleaning rag drying her hands. The recognition is instantaneous. I prepare mentally for the sermon that is to come.

"Anna…" She says with such resigned disappointment that I can't help but instantly feel like the worst daughter ever.

My eyes to the floor, I try to save myself, "It's not my fault, they came after me and I was not going to stand by and let them use me as a punching bag!", but it's no use.

She sighs, and points to the sofa, already turning to search for the first aid kit.

I drag my feet to the couch in the living room and plop my butt on it dejectedly without noticing that there's another body, a much smaller body, resting on it as well. The motion wakes him up, his eyes bleary for the time it takes him to yawn cutely. Then he notices me and my bruises and it's like a new episode of his favorite show, "Go, Diego, Go", has just come up. He stands on his small legs on the sofa's cushion and looks at my face with widened eyes filled with excitement.

"Annie, you got new war scars!" He screams, truly joyous. I smirk, indulging him by letting him poke at a side of my cheek that hurts enough to let me know somehow that bitch got it to bruise.

"Of course I did Nathan! I told you I was going to start my ninja training again today. Is only part of the job." I shrug nonchalantly, feeling like the toughest girl in the world as he gazes up at me reverently.

"Anna you need to stop filling his head with that kind of stories." Mom says as she sits beside me on the sofa and begins to rummage within the first aid kit. My spirits drop once again and I play with my hands as I wait for her to tend to my injuries.

"They are not stories mama! Annie has to practice her ninja skills, just like Naruto!" Nathan defends me vehemently; at least someone's on my side.

"I really wish you stopped showing him that kind of violent cartoons when I'm not around." I hiss as she dabs at my busted lip with a cotton ball drenched in alcohol. I'm pretty sure she's being so harsh on purpose; someday I need to learn all of these passive-aggressive techniques.

"They are not cartoons. They are anime!" I try to argue without moving my lip too much. There's an obvious and very important distinction between the two, and anyone who has watched anime knows this.

My mother sighs once again, probably deeming me irremediable. She opts to change the subject, slightly, for she's still scolding me, "Your clothes were new."

"I'm sorry." I say honestly. It was not my intention to dirty my clothes and even rip my new jeans.

She shakes her head softly and dabs at my cheek, but her eyes are no longer mad. She gazes at me fondly, because she's my mother and what is she going to do with me?

Most of my face has been cleaned thanks to her and the scraps on my left forearm healed with the help of my little brother by the time the front door opens and closes again.

I guess it is later than I had previously thought, because dad is home. He comes into the living room; his shoulders hunched, almost dragging his suitcase along the carpeted floor.

"Hello dear." Mom says simultaneously with Nathan's shout of "Daddy!" He runs to jump on his lap as soon as dad has deposited himself on the love couch before us. He's tired, we can tell, but he makes sure to smile for Nathan and ruffle his hair playfully.

His kind eyes then turn to us, mom and me, and it makes me happy to see that although it diminishes at my physical state it does not completely evaporate from his face.

"Oh, Anna…" He says, shaking his head just like mom did a while ago. He's somewhat amused though, unlike mom had been. I grin sheepishly. "At least tell me you gave as good as you got."

"Anderson!" Mom yells, scandalized. My chuckle answers him and he shrugs at his wife in a silent, rhetorical question of 'what?'

Mom is ready to ignore the rhetorical aspects of his body language and go on with her usual ranting, but then dad's humor disappears in a blink, and in its place is a sorrowful hesitation.

He exhales, long and heavy, and he's silent even as mom probes him with a, "Dear?"

Nathan is looking up at him through worried blue eyes, and dad gives him a sad half smile before his own eyes settle over mine.

"What's up dad? Something wrong at work?" I ask, because it seems to me that would be the only reason for his gloomy mood. My father is a happy family man, and only worries over his inability to provide for us have ever interfered with his cheery personality.

"You could say." He mutters, waits a second, and continues, "Anna, I have something I need to tell you that you will not like." He says, enunciating each word as if he was carefully approaching a wild animal. His gaze then goes to mom, and I can almost see the telepathic communication going between them. Mom knows what he's talking about, I can tell from the apprehension in her eyes when she looks down at me.

I turn to dad, "Are we moving again?" I ask, a sense of dread settling on my chest from the thought of having to leave my only friend, Kristoff.

But dad shakes his head in negative. We are not moving. "Did you get fired?"

He chuckles ruefully, "Our corporation is much smaller now, but I'm still the boss sweetheart. They can't fire me even if they wanted."

"Then?" I have no more guesses that could shake my family's foundation.

"Anna, do you remember why we moved here? Why you even go to public school?" He asks and I nod my head immediately.

It had not been that long ago. Actually, I still remember with a lot of contempt those long pencil skirts that I was forced to use at elementary school as well as the high necks of our lime green blouses. I always complained about how the uniform was horrific; I've never been into fashion but there was just no way around that, just like there was no way around the nuns with their hard rulers and harder rules who never let me run even during recess ("Young ladies don't do such boyish things"). I hated that private school, and although it came at a great loss for my parents, I was ecstatic when dad announced that we had to move.

I had not seen it coming, but then at ten years old you don't much notice that your parents are lacking a shoe because they are lending it to you. Also, we left before we were actually thrown out, or so I gathered. One evening much like this one, dad came home and said: 'We are broke, we have to leave Ireland." The decision was final. There was no discussion as there was no apparent hope for finding a solution in our homeland. We found one far from our country though, all the way in another continent, and although my then pregnant mom had been inconsolable, the sudden birth of my little brother who apparently couldn't wait a week after we set foot in Florida to look at the sights for himself took her mind off our new reality.

We were no longer the rich Callaghan family. My father was the owner and CEO of a Shipbuilding corporation no more. My mother left her charity clubs and I was taken out of the most prestigious private catholic school of Ireland.

Now we are just Anderson, Aileen, Anna and Nathan. And yes, we are still the Callaghan's, but no one here cares about the surnames of a family that owns a furniture store.

"Yes." I answer simply.

He nods thoughtfully. "Then, have you ever wondered how we managed to move all the way over here although we were indebted immigrants?"

Well, of course not! Like I said, I was ten! But now that he mentions it…

"Ah…no. I mean, I guess I thought you had somehow used your last resources for it."

His head keeps bobbing like one of those dolls people put on their car's dashboards. "Yeah, that's pretty much it." He says, his gaze off to the side while his palm brush over Nathan's orange curls; the kid is almost falling asleep and dad gestures for mom to take him upstairs.

She does, and I am left alone with a very uneasy man. Dad sweeps his apparently sweaty palms over the knees of his trousers, bending and settling his elbows over them before he continues his seemingly pointless explanation.

"Anna, sweetie, my last resources to get us to a country where I would already have a job and you and your mom would not lack a house or food as I waited for my first paycheck, was to ask a friend for help."

I nod in understanding, because that seems quite logical. As a businessman dad knew many other businessmen, and as a good man he had made good friends who in my mind would surely not hesitate to help him in his time of need.

"However, in the business world, every favor has a price." He adds, his eyes squinting slightly as if wishing for me to understand what he had yet to explain.

"Aha…?"

He exhales, seemingly exasperated with himself. "I asked my friend for the favor of helping us monetarily, for a loan you could say, one night after drinks…many drinks."

I give him a disapproving look even as my stomach fills with wariness. My father is not a drinker, and all of this hesitance and uneasiness is making me wonder about what horrible thing he could have done.

"And he accepted!" He continues. "For which I was very glad because I had not a cent left."

"And, what did he want in exchange?" I ask carefully.

A beat, and another, and one more, and then he said, "You."

"What?!" I shout, rising from the sofa in my shock.

"No, wait." He tries to stop my reaction with a gesture of the hand. That will not be enough, I am more than astonished. "Not you as in…I meant your hand, in marriage." He explains, as if that is as good an explanation as any other, as if he had just told me he was going to give away my favorite video games to this man.

I couldn't believe this. That my father had…no, he really couldn't have… "And what did you say to that?" I ask, visibly outraged.

"What could I say Anna? I couldn't let us end up on the streets!"

I huff indignantly to that. "I can't believe you!"

I hear footsteps behind me, coming from the stairs, and soon I get another scolding from my mother, "Anna, lower your voice. This is nothing for the neighbors to hear." She hisses.

"Of course not." I turn to her. "You wouldn't want your neighbors to know you are selling your daughter!"

"Anna we are not selling you!" Dad tries to defend himself, but I'm not listening, not any more.

"And to an old man no less! Did you know that mom? He wants me to marry some old dude!" I whine to her, although I knew she was at least somewhat aware.

Dad shouts over my voice. "No, of course not Anna! You are not marrying my friend!"

I turned instantly to him, those last words, that last ray of hope, stopping my tirade. "I'm not?" I say, my voice lower now but my scowl still blaring.

"No. You are marrying his daughter."

Well, shit, because that was much better.

Let it be known that today, my life is officially ruined.

To be continued…

Author's notes: I swear that was supposed to be lighter, and yet by the end it kind of ended up a bit too serious, don't you think?

Anyway, review?