9.

It's not a pretty sight: the spilled goblet and the ink bleeding down the parchment. Her shaking fists.

For a moment she stares at the puddle of water – transfixed. An attempt to give herself time to sort her thoughts out. It's time that only lasts mere seconds, because it doesn't take long for Elsa to freeze the puddle of water before it can do any more damage to the letter.

"Well, now we know that time really isn't really a luxury we can afford," Elsa says. Anna watches as she rights the goblet up with one precise, elegant motion. "Better to realise this sooner than later."

Gingerly at first, Anna begins tapping her nail on the letter now frozen solid, right on the empty space where Sincerest regards, ends and King Tiberius of Averny the Second begins. "Soon. Later. What difference does it make?"

"The difference being prepared and being caught with your underwear off."

Anna looks up at Elsa and stares. She's not sure what she's expecting, but probably not the stern face of someone completely oblivious to the ridiculousness of her words. Is Anna supposed to laugh? No? "Under… it's pants down, Elsa. Caught with your pants down."

Appearing to be carefully processing that bit of correction, Elsa tilts her head, then nods. "Caught with your pants down, then. I apologise – I suppose my lack of practice in conversations is quite apparent." She smiles thinly, and Anna's reminded of what Elsa's life was like before Corona.

Elsa's right; it's better to be prepare when the time comes. It's not only her freedom and her people's that are at stake. Elsa's is too. She won't allow Elsa to go back to her old life. It's inhumane and awful and no one deserves to be treated that way – to live as merely as a weapon and a tool for pleasure. No one. Not even the woman who can kill a dozen men with a blink of her eyes.

Anna doesn't voice her thoughts. She's made a promise anyway; constant reassurance just reeks of empty words. She'll prove it through her actions. Not her words. Instead she says, "it's disconcerting, though. How fast they move. You've been here what, a week? A week and a half? Not enough time to send a message back and forth. I mean Averny isn't across the continent, but…"

"Eleven days," Elsa says. "Spies, perhaps. A terrific network of carrier pigeons. Both."

Anna wrinkles her nose. "Oh yeah. Carrier pigeons. Sounds far less impressive than a band of couriers racing at breakneck speed back and forth. Ah well."

"Indeed. Now."

"Yeah."

"We both know what their objective is, yes?"

Of course she does. After the various marriage proposals from lesser lords and slightly wealthy merchants, she knows that the sudden interest of a big player like Averny has nothing to do with the merits of her or Corona. Nothing at all. They're just stepping stones towards the real target. "Easy. They want you, and Corona and I are just the unwanted tag along. I guess I should be glad the first move is a marriage proposal and not a declaration of war."

"Though a marriage proposal might as well also lead to war. You're not planning on accepting it, I assume."

Marriage? Of course not. That's too farfetched to even think about. That's just… stupid. She almost blurts out her answer, but then comes a thought: if push comes to shove, what is she willing to sacrifice for her people?

Her life? That's easy. Of course.

But her freedom? To live the rest of her natural life in a cage – she only needs to look straight across to know what it does to a person. Even if it's for the greater good.

Another question: is she willing to sacrifice Elsa's freedom along with hers? If she loses Elsa

(again)

Again.

Again. Again?

A door that won't open. She doesn't under

"Enough!"

Anna looks up, slightly teary eyed, her shoulders hunched.

"Enough," Elsa says again, softer. She's standing up, shoulders tense. It's becoming familiar, that concerned look. Anna notices then too that Elsa has her own nervous tic. It's how she sits: the ramrod straight back, the clenched neck. "It's all right, Anna. I apologise. We don't have to think about this now – we still have time. Please don't—exert yourself."

Anna hears the hitched syllable in that sentence, and she wonders just how bad she looks. Massaging her temple with her fingertips, she tries hard not to wince. "It's nothing. I just had—um, a headache." It's a white lie. It feels more like she pulled a brain muscle. The strain she typically associates from memorising historical dates. It's odd. What was that? "Maybe it's just the lack of sleep."

Elsa looks like she doesn't believe it one bit, but she gives a small nod anyway. "I'm not surprised. It would happen to anyone facing this predicament." Then, with a barely noticeable sigh, she smoothens the fabric of her pants and retakes her seat. "I presume telling you to retire early would not help?"

Sleep? Yeah; no. Not now. Anna has eye bags to attest to that. She slept well enough yesterday, but only because she was nearly frozen solid – and well, Elsa's presence helped. There's something calming about Elsa being around. Probably just another aspect of their bond.

"I wish. I'll sleep when I'm dead," Anna says, having started on mentally creating a checklist. "I need to set up a meeting with my parents." Check. "Then we'll have to go to council…" Check. "It's a tough one, but I'd like to think they won't just pawn me off to the first suitor just for a chance of survival. I mean, Averny isn't even the top of the food chain—"

"But powerful enough to raze us off the map, should they want to."

Us. Not you. Us. It's the small things, Anna thinks.

"Yeah well, most of everyone is. It's like taking candy from a baby, really. The council is full of old fogeys, but they're not stupid… at least I don't think so? They'd wait for something better to take the bait like… oh. The Southern Isles or something," she says, waving flippantly. But then she sees Elsa's expression and immediately grimaces. Shouldn't have brought them up. God she's so stupid sometimes. "Sorry, I didn't meant to…"

"That's fine."

Silence.

She messed up didn't she? Yeah, she did. She doesn't want to even imagine the unpleasant memories Elsa must be reliving now. Elsa has been particularly tight lipped about her time there, but from the sentence here and there, Anna knows enough that if it were her, death might be a far better option than to continue that existence. It makes sense; Elsa's callousness, her resignation to the sentence almost handed to her. Her strength.

"You hate them."

"Hate is an understatement," Elsa says. Her gaze is still the personification of all her powers. "Is it a rhetorical question?"

"Well y—no. No it's not." Anna looks down. Stammers. She likes to think that they know each other well enough by now that distance? Awkwardness. Shouldn't be an issue. But it doesn't, because right now she feels small – like it's her Queen that's staring down at her, and not Elsa. She realises that she's holding her hands tight together, and has to expend a certain amount of effort to disengage them and rest them neatly on her knees. "Sorry. I just thought – I mean, if you hate every single one of your contractors, that would be a lot of people to hate."

"Yes, I do hate every single one of them. But none I hate more than the Southern Isles. What's the point of this line of inquiry?"

That's a good question. What is the point. How did they get here from talking about her impending doom?

"No point. Sorry I brought it up. I just…" She glances to the side, then sighs. There's no way she's going to end it here, not after Elsa's words. She needs to know. Still needs to know Elsa's motives. "Actually, since we're at it. Uh." Hesitating, her eyes darts here and there before finally settling to meet Elsa's. "May I ask why? Why them? Were they the cruellest in their treatment of you?"

But as deep as her curiosity is, she's ready to backpedal if Elsa responds in any way unfavourably. She's not going to sprinkle salt all over Elsa's wounds even if she's dying to know. She's not that type of person. It's cruel and needless, and she cares about Elsa's feelings. That stupid, needless crush.

For a long time, Elsa remains silent.

It's silence so thick Anna feels like she can cut through it with a knife like butter, and she's about to open her mouth to say forget it, I'm sorry. Let's talk about something else when Elsa finally reaches forward, takes the letter between her thumb and index, folds it neatly into two halves and slides it into her pocket.

"Let's talk about this elsewhere," Elsa says before Anna can react. Standing up, Elsa steps behind her chair and pushes it forward until backrest meets the edge of the table with a louder than necessary thud. "Perhaps a change of scenery will do both of us good."

Her tone is calm and collected but there's the lash of whip in it. She's bristling, Anna realises. It's an anger so cold, so targeted, so intense Anna feels she might burn her skin if she touches Elsa now. The skin under her bracelet tingles.

Tread lightly.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

They're stubborn, the wrinkles.

It's the fifth time Anna's run her hand over that pillow, all the way from one edge to another. She tries again for the sixth time, pressing down and sideways with enough force she can see the tiny folds on the bridge between her wrist and the back of her hand. Old creases disappear to be replaced by newer, bigger ones and she gives up.

It's hard not to compare her life with this pillow. Or her relationship with Elsa. They argue, they make up, they argue. But unlike her pillow, she can't simply blame the shoddy work of her maids for this—whatever she is in now. But at least there's one more pain point she's learned Elsa has. Never mention the Southern Isles again. Ever. Maybe unless they're smackdab in the middle of her ocean again, committing mass genocide against her people. That might be all right.

There's no wonder Elsa was so quick to turn from slaughtering Anna's men to slaughtering those soldiers. So quick, it might be glee. Was she smiling then? Was there small quirk on her lips? But Anna convinces herself that it was just necessity. The Elsa in her mind doesn't take pleasure from killing, and that's how it will remain.

Perched at the edge of her bed, Anna takes a look down at the bracelet, turning her wrist over to the inside and out again. The skin underneath no longer tingles, and she takes it as a good sign. Still, Elsa has scarcely spoken five words since she's followed Elsa back to her room. It might just be Elsa, or it might be the residual effect of the conversation they've had before. It's a bit lonely seeing Elsa's back turned toward her with no words to fill in the gap. A bit lonely, a bit wistful.

So she tries. "Can I get that letter back, please?"

No reply.

She tries again. "It's a bit important, you know. I'd like to show it to my parents and maybe have a cup of earl grey while we discuss on how best not to allow our people get murdered without marrying me and you off to some foreign bearded guy with six wives? The sooner the better."

Silence. Elsa's still busy rummaging through Anna's wardrobe. Whatever she's trying to find, it seems to be eluding her for the last five minutes. It's not a bad thing, come to think of it. As horrible as the silence and the cold shoulders are, it's a respite Anna doesn't mind. It's something that she needs – to just sit and wait for something as innocuous and someone picking your clothes for you. She tries not to let her thoughts drift away towards the impending war, of the kingdoms circling around Elsa and her like vultures, of Jan and her soldiers in the mountain dealing with the tribes.

She needs a rest.

"Which one would you prefer?"

But alas, rest is short lived. Elsa's in front of her, uttering her first words in god knows how long, holding two dresses at an arm's length.

Two very plain dresses. The kind she sometimes wears when she was out playing in the mud during her formative years. She wants to ask Elsa what's this all about, but sometimes it's just easier to follow than to question.

Without much thought, she picks the one on the left. It's a non-descript woollen brown to the right's bright red. Nothing much to look at, and she has an inkling that's exactly what Elsa's striving for. And true to her suspicions, Elsa nods, as if pleased, then sets the dress down at the bed before returning the other one to the wardrobe.

Anna casts a glance at the dress lying next to her.

"You want me to change into it?"

"Yes, please. And this, too," Elsa says, then tosses another garment in Anna's general direction.

Elsa's throwing skills must be as atrocious as her navigational skills because it veers off trajectory enough that Anna nearly has to dive one way to catch it.

A cloak. Equally plain. Hmm. She runs her fingers through the slightly frayed trimmings of the cloak, reminiscing about that time when Horse tried to run her down in the middle of a swamp due to a particularly big rat or some other. Big, but such a coward. It was this cloak she was wearing, she thinks, or something quite similar to it. It's the type of thing she wears when she tries to blend in, break rules, or both. Is Elsa thinking of doing what she thinks Elsa is going to do?

"We're going somewhere we're not supposed to, aren't we?"

"Not quite," Elsa says, and Anna realises that she's already unbuttoning her blouse.

Audacious enough to not even turn away, but with her past – well, her ease with nudity certainly seem to make sense. A furtive glimpse of pale shoulders, and it becomes too much for Anna. Supressing her gaze (and the rising heat on her cheeks), Anna stands and turns to face the far wall, giving a little cough.

Concentrating on looking down to untie her bodice and ushering any errand thoughts of shoulders and anything below, she strips down to her undergarments – praying to whatever god that Elsa isn't looking at her – and pulls the dress down her neck. She's always been a fast dresser. "So um, is there a reason to this or do you just want to play dress down with me?"

"There is a reason. Two actually – you can look now, Anna."

"You… uh, sure?" For some reason her voice is more high pitched than usual, tripping over one syllable like a limping chicken.

"Yes; I'm very sure that I'm sufficiently dressed, if that was what you are worrying about."

Her pride tells her she should mentally strangle herself, but she swallows it and obediently turns, facing Elsa.

Anna stares. "Wow," she starts, for a lack of any better proclamation of awe. "You're certainly nailing that… average look really well."

Because Elsa is. Not average average, because you can't make that face and that bearing truly average. But apparently you can make it averagely pretty. Pleasant enough to look at, but nothing special as to draw a second glance. It can be attributed to the run of the mill rich housewife garb Elsa's chosen, but Anna thinks it's more how Elsa's carrying herself – back not nearly as straight, shoulders slightly stooped, accessorised with just enough jewellery a person of middling wealth can afford. It's so utterly unassuming, Anna has reins herself in from bursting into a slow clap and a whistle. Instead of throwing the confetti, she says instead, "very impressive, Els. I don't know which treasure room you're trying to break into, but I would never think you're well—you, at first glance."

"Thank you. That's good enough, then," Elsa says, looking pleased. She slides the last ring into her left index finger and only then has Anna realised that she's speaking in flawless Coronan accent. No trace of the lilt, that stiff speech.

Yep. This transformation or whatever it's called definitely warrants throwing confetti. "So… worked as a spy before?"

"No." Then, bending down to swipe the cloak that's fallen wayside off the floor, Elsa disappears from view – moving behind her to drape the cloak over her shoulders. "Merely experienced in having to disappear for periods of time. Turn around."

Anna does. She peers up in an attempt to maintain eye contact – because really, that's the polite thing to do – but immediately gazes down again. She realises she has trouble looking straight into Elsa's eyes at this distance – barely an elbow's length away as Elsa works on tying the lace fastening the cloak's collar.

"And how did that work for you?" she asks her shoes.

"I'm here, aren't I?"

"…yeah." That's answer enough. "I'm sorry," she says for good measure. Not to her shoes. She tilts her head back up, staring straight at Elsa. She's been apologising a lot for atrocities she didn't commit – but it feels like the right thing to do.

The unneeded apology nor the accidental probing of her past doesn't seem to faze Elsa – a huge difference to her reaction to that conversation about the Southern Isles. Maybe it's just the timing, or the very specific trigger.

(tread on glass, for she is fire)

Anna wonders about Elsa's mental health, sometimes.

"Done," Elsa says, looping through stage of the knot and cinching it by pulling the loose ends tight. Then she runs both hands down Anna's shoulders, starting from the base of her neck, down the length of her collarbones. Her hands stop when they reach the peak of Anna's forearms, and there's that odd halfhearted squeeze, as if Elsa's not sure whether she wants to grab or let go. There's the halfhearted squeeze, and then a sigh, and Anna just wishes the rapid beating of her heart isn't loud enough to be heard.

Like she wishes her first impulse is not to relive that night of foolishness under the stars. She remembers how warm Elsa felt, how nostalgic her scent was, how… comforting that moment felt. She feels a shiver run down her spine and inevitably, unconsciously, she steps back. Away from danger, the crush she has no time for.

And Elsa? Elsa looks like she's been struck on the face. Her arms briefly hang in the air – above the spot Anna's shoulders were – before she retracts them back to her sides, and her expression returns to still water.

"I…" Mind racing a thousand words per minute, Anna tries to scramble for words. The right words to placate that fear of lingering physical contact Elsa has. Or maybe she needs to find the words to convey that she didn't mean it. It's not Elsa's touch that caused her reeling; it was her reaction to it. It's not you, I swear. It's me. Because she knows that expression well. Rejection. She scrambles, but it's too late. Elsa's gone, having withdrawn back into that shell of placidity and indifference.

"We should go now," Elsa says as she turns away, putting on a wimple while she tucks her hair into place underneath it.

There's no indication that anything's happened and it's frustrating and unfair and Anna's tired of this vicious see-sawing back and forth.

And a small voice says: maybe, maybe she has as much of an effect on Elsa as Elsa does to her.

Why?

And she nearly opens her mouth to say that exact word, but she knows better. The best way of solving a problem is indirect, Cecile has always said. Work your way to find that chink in the armour and work your way through until you reach flesh, the heart of the problem. Slow, methodical, controlled. But hammers and chisels don't work on Elsa. How can they the chinks in Elsa's armour are like mirages? So expertly repaired every time it's exposed it might as well be non-existent.

She grits her teeth. It's frustrating. It's unfair.

One of these days—

"One of us is going to break." That catches Anna by surprise. Jaws loosening, she furrows her brows and looks at Elsa, who's still preoccupied with arranging her hair neatly into the wimple. A stray wavy lock hangs loose, and Elsa lets it be. The rings on her fingers glint almost as brilliantly as her hair in the sun, and she glances at the window. The sun hangs high. Barely angling towards noon. "I know what you want to say, Anna. I apologise for my reaction. It was unsightly."

"No, I—" wow. That did catch Anna by surprise. Elsa offering the hand of peace first crumbles her planned arguments like castle on sand. "I was just—" trying to word her sentence as diplomatically as possible and failing, she lets out a sigh. Diplomacy out of the court has never been her strong suit. "Okay. Let's start again. I'm sorry – it wasn't my intention to offend you, Els. I didn't mean to retreat from your touch. It's just that I'm not really used to someone being so… close. Physically, I mean." Which is a big fat lie. She was fine when Elsa helped put her armour on, wasn't she? She was fine with the hug. She was fine until her heart started to betray her. Elsa probably knows she's lying, but what is she going to say? That she's developing a crush at the last person on earth she should be crushing at?

Yeah. Right.

"Please don't apologise," Elsa says in a neutral tone Anna's paranoia can only hear as disbelief, "I have been… difficult today. More so than usual."

"…oh." Holy crap. What is it today? The day of peace treaties?

"And I want to explain; I do, but it seems like the time is never right."

Or not. Something about those words causes Anna to flare. It reeks too much of well-practised damage control spiel. The time is never right? Next thing Elsa is going to say something about hiding the truth for the greater good. Right. "…really."

"You find it hard to believe," Elsa says.

"Well yes. You say that you want to explain, but you never really do. A relationship should be a two-way street, Elsa. I've only been honest with you, and you? You obscure everything. I'm tired of stumbling in the dark, guessing what might or might not offend you, wondering what the hell is happening. Like now. You stole a very important letter, dressed me in this getup –to go where? What are we doing? It's not fair, Els. It's so not fair. " Frustration is rearing its ugly head again, and Anna finds herself unable to damper the torrent of words that comes out of her mouth. They're stuck for life, after all, and isn't honesty the first step towards a working relationship? Partners in life. For better or worse. Reciprocity. That's all Anna wants. Just a little bit of reciprocal.

At this onslaught, Elsa falls silent for a moment. Starts playing with the ring on her index finger, sliding it right, left, right. It's as if she's contemplating, truly contemplating, but Anna doesn't get her hopes up. Resolution isn't so easily found, after all. Talk all they want; there's always another kink to unknot.

Elsa slides the ring back to its rightful position and finally she says, "I understand how you feel. I haven't handled this… situation the best way, I admit. I…" she pauses, bring her hand up and rubs her collarbone, propping her elbow on her palm. "How about this: do me a favour, and by the time the sun sets you can ask three questions. I might not be able to answer all of them, but I promise I will make the best effort to."

Now that is shocking. No more spiel – as jaded as Anna feels right now, she can hear the sincerity in Elsa's voice, the tentatively offered white handkerchief. Three questions. "That's more than I could ask for, I guess. You sure about this?" Anna asks. Slowly. Carefully. Even though she very much deserves those three questions, she doesn't want Elsa to feel unduly burdened, or forced to disclose something she doesn't want. Call it selfless. Call it foolish, but she cares about Elsa's feelings as much as she cares about hers.

Folding her arms together, Elsa nods. "Yes. It's the least I can do."

Anna sucks in air between her teeth. Lets it out slowly. "Okay," she says. "Deal. So, what's the favour?"

"Allow me to relive a little bit of my freedom."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Freedom, by Elsa's definition, is a casual stroll in the city.

"This is the main bazaar," Anna needlessly says, because it's so obvious they're in a bazaar. Merchants, wagons full of goods, mules, stalls. A bank. Way too many people and way too many sounds. It's all encompassed in one giant square surrounded by brick and wooden buildings, each with a flat roof and way too many chimneys to be practical. Coronan architecture at its finest. "You can buy stuff here. Like chocolate, and candies. And marshmallow."

Elsa laughs lightly at this. The mood has considerably brightened ever since they've left the walls of the castle. Maybe it's the sun, or the salty air. Whatever it is, Anna thinks it's doing them both good.

"Sweets. Is that the only thing you care about? Nothing about your exquisite wood carvings? They're quite coveted outside of Corona, if I recall correctly."

"Oh, that?" Following Elsa's gaze, Anna spots the stall selling the carvings. "That was a while ago, though. Merchants are too afraid to travel across borders, nowadays. The tribes and the war and all… though I suppose the former shouldn't be a problem anymore. I hope."

"If Jan and his men do their duties correctly, it shouldn't. He's looking at us."

"Huh?" Oh, the merchant. Anna mentally cringes inside. She hates it when people stare directly at her while she's out shopping. It makes her feel guilty, like she should approach them and buy everything in their stall just because she's the princess and it's her duty to help the poor and the middle class. But she shouldn't feel that way now, because they're currently just two unassuming folks: a noblewoman and her handmaiden and nothing more. God. The hood is way too warm. "Uh, never mind him. Let's go buy some choco—"

Too late. Elsa is already walking towards the merchant. Casually walking, not her usual purposeful stride. She's really playing her part brilliantly. Anna sighs, then follows suit. Why is she the handmaiden, anyway?

"A pretty carving for two pretty ladies?" the merchant says in the way of greeting, smiling wide.

Anna notices that he's missing a few teeth and goddamnit, now she has to buy something. She hopes he doesn't recognise who she is. Wait, is he addressing her, or Elsa? Who should talk first in a noblewoman-handmaiden duo? How does all this work?

Maybe she notices Anna's confusion, because Elsa immediately goes to the rescue.

"Perhaps," Elsa says. Her hand hovers a selection of carvings: animals, trees, random pretty motifs, buildings, before it descends and she singles out the simplest, least intricate carving: a reindeer. There's truly nothing special about it. Just a reindeer with some impressive antlers. No details besides a pair of dots as eyes. Elsa turns it this way and that, and she asks, "how much for this?"

"Twelve pennies, my lady."

"I'll—"

"Five!" Before Elsa can commit the egregious error of not haggling, Anna decides that she should do the right thing by not allowing anyone to be swindled in her sight. Ever. "Five or we're walking away."

Elsa casts a sideway glance that suggests she's utterly unfamiliar with the art of haggling, and her lips part like she's about to say something. She's going to ruin this whole thing, Anna realises, so she pushes herself into the space between Elsa and the merchant, and holds out five fingers. "Five. Twelve is outrageous. You know well enough that a basic carving like that reindeer there is worth a pittance of your opening price. Just because my lady—" she clears her throat "– Elizabeth here doesn't know the value of real life things, doesn't mean I don't. As her most faithful servant I declare five."

"Eight." The merchant.

"Five." Anna/most faithful servant.

"Do I not have a say in this?" Elsa/my lady Elizabeth.

"Six."

"Five, and it's final."

The merchant takes his time to ponder – seemingly torn at the prospect of shooing them away or losing a sale. Finally he relents and makes a motion like he's fanning the air. "Fine. Take it. Just know that you've deprived an honest man of his pennies. Packaging isn't included at that price, just so you know."

Yeah. Honest man. Pssh.

"It's fine as it is," Elsa says, looking down at the reindeer. She looks like she's trying to stifle a laugh. A rare, rare sight indeed. Elsa looks like she's genuinely having fun, but Anna can't help but if it's just part of the persona she's assuming. "Angelica, would you kindly pay this man five pennies, please?"

Anna blinks. Who the hell is Ange—oh. Angelica? Really? Having come to realisation that she's Angelica the handmaiden now, Anna fishes the coin purse from her satchel and rifles around, blindly picking five coins and drops it into the merchant's outstretched palm. "Five pennies," she says, just to truly drill down that it's five pennies and not a single digit over.

Deciding that Elsa and Anna isn't worth wasting time on anymore, the merchant turns his back on them and proceeds to re-arrange his already meticulously arranged wares. Fine, she gets the signal. Motioning at Elsa to step away from the stall and off the path, Anna manoeuvres between a set of stalls selling vegetables and bread (stopping briefly to buy two sandwiches) and heads towards the only empty bench in the vicinity. It's facing their prized fountain with its statue of a peeing boy and a flying fish, but it's as good as any. A fair enough spot to watch the throngs of people at the other side of the fountain and to have a little picnic. It would be nice if the couple in the next bench over would stop slobbering over each other, though.

Taking a seat on the bench, she pats the space beside her. "Come sit. Let's take a break – I'm starving." Also because she knows Elsa hasn't eaten all day long, and a fainting Elsa is the last thing she wants to experience.

"Yes – I must admit I'm quite famished myself," Elsa says as she primly runs her hands down the length of her dress before sitting down. It doesn't escape Anna's notice that Elsa is taking in everything in her sight. Eyes darting from right to left, scanning faces.

Anna hands one of the sandwiches over – still in its wrapper. "Anything interesting?"

"Nothing alarming. And I hope it stays that way." Peeling the wrap off, Elsa gingerly lifts one corner of the sandwich up and peers at its contents, the corner of her lips forming into a grimace.

Anna ignores it. Whether she likes it or not, Elsa will eat her veggies.

"So," Anna says after her first bite. "Why the reindeer?" Despite being worded as an innocuous question, Anna knows it's anything but. Because the reindeer is now proper on Elsa's lap instead of being stashed away somewhere. She doesn't seem like the sentimental type, so it must be something important. Maybe symbolic, or a remembrance of her past life. "Or… is that counted as one of the three questions? In that case, I'll retract that question."

"It doesn't count, don't worry. I'll notify you if you've breached one of your free passes."

Anna makes a face, and Elsa smiles faintly. The open air has done them good.

With her free hand, Elsa lightly, absentmindedly strokes the reindeer on its wooden back. "I was friends with a reindeer, once upon a time. He was the royal ice master's companion – served tirelessly for more than a decade. When he died, we sent him away with a funeral worthy of kings. I suppose I like to remember the happier days, sometimes."

"Friends… with a reindeer?"

"He had good qualities. Not being able to speak, for one. A perfect listener."

Wow. Elsa must have been a really, really lonely person. Anna can't help but imagine Elsa talking to the reindeer, animatedly having a one-sided conversation about the weather and such. Did she have friends at all?

"Okaaaayyy…. What about the royal ice master, then? What kind of title is that?"

"Him, I would rather not talk about."

That's it. That line of questioning shut tight. But… did Anna not dream of a reindeer then? Maybe there's a connec—no; that's just too farfetched. Nothing but a coincidence. Still, she would like to know more about this royal ice master business. Sounds intriguing. But another day. Slow, take it slow, she reminds herself like a mantra.

She takes another bite, and through the corner of her eyes she sees Elsa follow suit. A small, dainty bite compared to hers.

"Guess I'm glad you have something to remember him by, then. What's his name?"

Elsa takes a moment to finish her bite, then says, "Sven. His name was Sven."

"Good name for a reindeer."

"Indeed."

The couple at the other bench has finally stopped gluing their faces together, but now they're locked into a tight embrace, swaying back and forth like a pendulum. Anna wants to throw her sandwich at them and tell them to get a room.

"So," she says.

"Yes?"

"Now that you've been outside the castle walls, how do you like Corona?" There's an easy topic. Safe and innocent. She's saving the hard hitting questions for sunset, after all. It's part of their deal.

"It's—" A horse whines loudly in the distance, interrupting Elsa. Anna spots a toppled cart and a harried man, but thankfully bystanders have begun helping him by collecting his stray wares. Good people, they are. Good people. Elsa waits until the commotion has died down and continues, "it's different than the last time I was here. More buildings; more people. It was not enclosed in walls, then."

Ah yes, the walls. Even from the middle of the city, it rises tall: grey and unsightly. Living long enough to see the city before the walls – it's beyond Anna's comprehension. "Yeah – it kinda went to hell during King Eugene and Queen Rapunzel's reign. The Great War. I think a few kingdoms disappeared then. Big ones, too. They had to build this wall to protect against invading armies – we were grand then. Imagine if it happens now." Anna chuckles darkly. It hits too close to her heart. "We'd be toast."

"I know," Elsa says. She, too, is surveying the wall. An ugly souvenir from an ugly past bound to repeat soon if Anna doesn't make the correct choices. "I was there. Before. During. After. Passed from hand to hand – clamoured for like a toy to greedy children."

Her answer stuns Anna in speechlessness and she grabs her sandwich a little tighter, appetite fleeing with each syllable Elsa's uttered. She can't—doesn't want to look at Elsa right now. She fears the expression she'll see. She fears the heartbreak she will suffer if she does. She repeats the promise she's told Elsa to herself: that she won't let it happen again. This will be the last. She doesn't say it out loud because it'll seem like empty words. She knows that Elsa will just smile and nod in a cordial disbelief. It seems pointless so, and so it stays within her.

"They're decent people, your citizens. They're people worth protecting" Elsa says, nonchalant.

"…yeah. They are." What is Elsa angling at?

"This is why I want you to know that if you had to choose between all of Corona and yourself, you should always choose the latter."

"What!" Her voice is loud enough that even the couple has taken a break from their romance and gives them a patronising stare. Conscious of her volume, Anna angles herself sideways towards Elsa and lowers her volume. What the hell is Elsa talking about? That's… that's outrageous. Is she seriously asking her to sacrifice her people in lieu of herself? "That's not—that's impossible, Els. There's no way I'm going to trade my life for thousands of theirs. Each one of their lives is worth mine – much less a thousand of them. You don't seriously—"

"But I do," Elsa replies without missing a beat. "I am not taking their lives lightly, believe me. But don't forget I'm yours. We're inextricably linked together. Have you forgotten the massacre I've committed in the name of kings and queens? I trust you enough to never slip into that route, but others are not quite as benign as you are. Take that into mind, Anna. It's a choice between two lesser evils. I want to imprint this into you now, while we still have the leisure to discuss this in depth."

The greater good. That's what Elsa is angling at. It's always the greater good, isn't it? The sandwich is forgotten, gathering dirt on the ground, but Anna doesn't care a whit. "I…" she falters, collects herself then tries again. "This is too heavy of a topic to spring on me, Elsa. It may never happen – making decisions about hypothetical situations isn't exactly my forte. I get where you're coming from, but… I can't. I just can't imagine doing that. Is this about the marriage proposal? Is that what've sprung this topic?"

"One of many, yes."

Anna stays silent. The reindeer perched on Elsa's lap now seems out of place in this ominous cloud. "Can we… talk about this another day? Please. Tomorrow. Let's just enjoy this evening."

"As you wish," Elsa says. She re-wraps her sandwich back into its tattered paper and bends to pick Anna's discarded one – carefully as not to topple the reindeer over – and places both sandwiches stacked on top of another beside her. It seems like both of them are no longer in the mood for food.

Anna motions at the reindeer. "Do you want to put it in my satchel? Just in case."

"Please," Elsa says.

She passes the reindeer and Anna takes it, placing it safely in the front compartment of her satchel. She closes the clasp and gives it a good pat over the bulge, just in case.

Elsa looks up into the sky. "It's sunset. Thank you for today, Anna. I enjoyed the city. It's very pleasant."

That's a lot of gratitude for something so simple. It's not like Anna minded. She needed the stretch and the fresh air anyway. "Anytime, Els. This isn't a favour, you know. You can ask to go out with you anytime you want. I had fun too, though you could probably learn how to haggle. It's a valuable skill to have."

"To me, it is. This is the first time in long time I've been able to enjoy a day like this without anything expected of me. I appreciate this. Thank you." And Elsa smiles. Warm. Genuine.

And that smile breaks Anna's heart in three. She has to place her hand on her stomach to calm the lurch, the sinking feeling. She feels like throwing up. Elsa never goes deep into the details of her past. A sentence here, an offhanded remark there. But every time she does, it hits hard. It feels like a punch to her stomach, a stab and a twist to her chest.

That's why the promise is so important to her. She repeats it once more, just to herself. It's no longer a promise between her and Elsa, but a promise to herself alone.

"Anytime," she finally musters. Her voice is almost a whisper. "We'll do this again soon, I promise."

Elsa doesn't address that promise. Instead, she says, "now it's my turn to fulfil my promise. Have you thought of your three questions yet?"

"Yes." Yes; she has.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

A/N: You know what sucks? Having to buy a ps4 just to replay Witcher 3 because your pc crapped out and your 43 hour save is gone.

You know what sucks more? Rare updates. And I swear it's not just because of Witcher 3.

And I realise that a few of you guys have been finding me on reddit and PMing me over there. If you feel the need to lodge any inquires please just message me on reddit. It's the same username and it's just easier via reddit. Do you know doesn't allow links? Yeah.