Fire

[ignisregina]

 If Anna's hair was red, then Elsa's was fire.

The younger Arendelle princess remembered a time before Elsa had started shutting her out, when her older sister would wear her hair down and free of any ties. Try as her mother and nannies might to put it up in buns and intricate braids, the fiery princess would just take it out again the moment their backs were turned. Much to Anna's delight.
When the light caught it just right, it really looked like her hair was made of fire. Coupled with her golden brown eyes, it made for quite a sight. It seemed to reflect the boundless energy the heiress held inside. She would always be running around with her younger sister, playing games and tricks on their tutors, sneaking sweets from the kitchens, and generally making mischief wherever they went.

It was fun. And somehow, no matter how cold it got in the frozen kingdom of Arendelle, Anna always felt warm with her sister around.

She missed those days.

Elsa never wore her hair down anymore. She didn't run, or play or sneak. She stayed locked up inside her room all the time.

And Anna always felt cold.