get ready for some elsanna y'all.

a treat because this means i have to insert a chapter (which i haven't written yet) and also my life is going to be ridiculously busy until january because i uh am moving overseas. again.

i'll still try and update weekly, but hopefully this will tide you over :)

Elsa doesn't go out that night, something for which you are extremely grateful. She orders some dinner through Uber Eats, which apparently exists in Norway; the food isn't something you recognise, but there's a starter, and she pulls out the alcohol she'd bought at the duty-free shop and pours a glass.

Bente knocks on the door about ten minutes after the food arrives and says something to Elsa. Elsa looks at you from the corner of her eyes, and you try and be a little more interested in your food than the conversation going on. It's not like you can understand them anyway. After a few minutes, Bente leaves, and Elsa returns to you.

"Everything okay?" you ask. She nods, taking a forkful of food. It doesn't quite make it to her mouth before she returns it to the plate, letting it rest there.

"It seems as though we will be roommates a while longer," she says, not meeting your eyes. "Is that... okay?"

You look at her for a moment. "Of course it's okay with me," you tell her, because it is. You just... don't want to put Elsa out any more than you already seem to have been.

So... you tell her that.

Elsa doesn't respond straight away. Her hand rests on her fork, which rests on her plate, and she seems to be trying to think of a way to answer – even though you didn't really ask a question, your words still need a response.

"Anna, I..." she starts. Then, she heaves a huge sigh and takes a rather large gulp of her drink. "I'm sorry that I haven't been very good company this trip." Her eyes flicker to yours, and once more, you're desperately curious as to where she went last night.

Who she went with.

You wish you had her confidence. You're the only person you know who is a virgin, and honestly, you kind of want to get it out of the way just so you can cross that hurdle. At the same time, though, you want it to be meaningful.

Hans has already... made his own thoughts clear. Maybe you should talk to him. When you get back.

But Elsa's talking again, so you focus on her.

"I feel like... nothing I do is right."

What? That can't be true. A look into her eyes, even focussed away from you as they are, confirms her words, though. "Why do you feel that way?" you ask, trying not to pry but... Elsa really seems like she wants to share this time.

If she didn't, why would she have mentioned it?

She takes another drink, realises it's empty, and pours another. And maybe that's why she's sharing; because she's drunk. Or, not quite drunk. Definitely moving into the 'inebriated' phase, though.

"I keep trying to make things okay and sometimes I feel like I do a good job of it but then other times I just... it gets to me, which is stupid because it's not even about me but there you go. I feel like no matter what I do, it's never going to be enough!"

Your focus is entirely taken up by Elsa, by her words, that it takes a moment to realise that you feel a little cold. You don't like her words, what she's saying. She's talking like she hurt someone, and while that was a possibility, she'd never do it on purpose. Even though it sounds like she definitely blames herself for whatever it was. For some stupid reason, a ridiculous thought pops into your head: did she like... kill someone?

Of course, that idea is complete nonsense. Sure, she might be a CEO, but there's other things that aren't murder. Corporate espionage. Fraud and money laundering. Blackmail.

All things that the woman in front of you is not capable of. Sure, maybe you don't know her that well – not as well as you'd like – you've still always been a fairly decent judge of character.

Except with Kristoff. You really didn't like him at first.

But other than him, you've been great! And besides, if Elsa is so upset about something that she might not even have done, then doesn't that prove that she's a good person?

It does to you, at least, so you move over to put your hand on her arm.

"What do you think you did, Elsa?" you ask gently. "Because I don't think you deserve all of the pressure you're putting on yourself. You're a great person, and as long as we all keep trying, that's all anyone can ask, right?"

You smile at her, and she looks up at you. Her eyes are glassy, and they bore into yours. It actually leaves you kind of breathless.

"I-" she starts, but doesn't finish. You have the stupid thought that you should really hug her. You've always been a tactile person, and she looks like she needs one.

Slowly, you move your hand up her arm as your other one comes up to her side. It's slow enough that she has more than enough time to move or give some kind of indication that she doesn't want it.

She doesn't. Elsa's eyes stay on yours even as you close the distance. It's a little awkward, hugging from your chair when the other person isn't really making any move to hug back, but it's okay because she does start to relax when your arms enclose around her.

And then her head falls onto your shoulder and, with a start, you realise that she's crying.

It's soft and low, except for every few sobs where she lets out another cry that almost sounds like she's in pain. Her hands hold you close, and it's the tightest embrace you've had in years. You hug Kristoff sometimes, but it's different with Elsa. Your shoulder dampens and her short fingernails dig into your back.

But, you keep holding onto her, patting up and down her back every so often as you make gentle shushing noises. Not to get her to stop crying, but just to tell her that you're here.

It goes on like this for some time before she slowly pulls herself together. She doesn't let go immediately, and it could have been for any number of reasons; maybe she fell asleep (unlikely), or she doesn't want to face you (probable).

You don't know what prompts you to lift a hand, but it stops rubbing her back and begins petting up and down her scalp. Her hair is up, so the first thing you do is take out the hair ties. A small grin rises to your lips when you notice that they're the cheap plastic ones designed to look invisible. They're a pale blue – the same colour as her fancy dress from the night before – and blend in really well to her hair, light as it is.

She doesn't move, but she does relax into you. Her arms fall limp, still around your waist but not holding on anymore. She's warm and comfortable and needs comforting, so you don't try and move, and you don't try and speak. You're happy to stay here as long as she wants.

Given that, you're not sure how long it's been before Elsa finally does move. Long enough that her eyes aren't red, though they're still a little swollen. Her face looks sticky, and you're not sure if you should avoid her gaze or not. She presses the ball of her hand into her eyes and groans.

"I'm sorry," she says, hands still covering her eyes. It muffles her voice, but given that she hasn't actually moved back very far, it doesn't matter. "I shouldn't have..."

"Hey, it's okay," you rush to comfort her. "Do you... is there anything I can do?"

She shakes her head, hands finally moving. Sucks in a mucousy sniffle and stands up. "No, it's- thank you, though, for the offer. I... I just need a shower. Sorry."

You nod and move back, just far enough for her to get past you and collect her clothes for her shower.

Given how long she's taken in the past, you decide to start packing away her dinner. There's a small mini-fridge, and the containers are resealable. They'll be cold by the time you get around to eating them. Once again, you've lost your appetite.

You also put away her alcohol, because it's entirely possible that Elsa can't hold it – at least, nothing more than a glass of wine with lunch. It smells pretty strong, at any rate.

Just as you predicted, Elsa's in the shower for a long time. You hear, over the sounds of the tap, her crying again, and wow that makes three times in one day.

Maybe she's missing home, or is hormonal or something. You always feel bloated and sensitive when you're on your period (and you usually get a huge pimple because you can't control your cravings at all which, naturally, just makes it worse).

If you have a chance, you want to go to a Norwegian chocolaterie, or bakery, or somewhere that you can buy a treat for her.

When she returns, you've moved to your bed, laptop in your lap. You have Netflix open again – you never managed to finish your episode of Doctor Who (in fact, you'd barely started it). You look up when she reappears. This Elsa is a far cry from the one you saw on the first night, and even further from the one yesterday. With her makeup gone, the bags under her eyes are the first thing you notice.

She looks at you, almost guiltily, before making her way to her bed.

"Els-"

Her step falters as she looks at you. You try to hold her gaze, even though you weren't really sure why you'd spoken her name. A little idea flickers in your mind, and you grab tight.

"Do you... wanna watch some Netflix with me? We can push the beds together and... I dunno... Sorry, it's a stupid idea..."

You don't mean to sound so self-deprecating, but it's kind of hard. Elsa probably just wants to go to bed and forget today ever existed.

But then, surprisingly – amazingly – she smiles. It's small, but definitely there.

"That sounds nice..."