Author's Note: A huge merci/dankeschön to our translation assistants, a-kiirii-on-board, darkdraconis, and pascaldragon. Thank you so much!

La Guerre de l'Art - Un Portrait de Deux Lesbiennes Amoureuses

[The War of Art - A Portrait of Two Lesbians in Love]

CHAPTER 3

The Art of Courtship

"Oh, Hans! It's…what is it?" True to her promise, Anna feigned surprise at the sight of the chocolatl, going so far as to tilt her head and examine the treats from every conceivable direction. Off to the side, Elsa suppressed a chuckle behind her hand—Hans wouldn't be able to tell, but she knew that the girl was investing just a little too much into her performance. As it were, he was about as blind as the king to the plight of the poor; grinning triumphantly at the apparent success of 'his' gift.

"It's called chocolatl, my dear. Brought from the far reaches of Spain, just for you!" Hans said, giving another flourish of his hand. "I doubt you would find anything sweeter than this in all of France."

Anna's gaze met hers over the man's shoulders, a knowing twinkle in her eye, and Elsa smirked. Poor Hans de Neuvillette...Had you bothered to procure them yourself, perhaps you would have been spared of this embarrassing performance. She rolled her eyes at him, silently urging her protégée to maintain her facade of incredulity.

"Elsa, would you like one too?"

Elsa looked up suddenly at the sound of Anna's voice calling to her from across the room. Should I? I suppose she is offering, it would only be polite… Not that I think I could refuse her something as trivial as this, anyway. Her cheeks were alighted by a faint blush.

"S'il-vous-plaît. That is most generous of you to share your gift with me, mademoiselle Roxanna."

She walked over to join the pair. While she did so Anna took a piece from the box between thumb and forefinger as she had earlier that day, and held it out for Elsa to eat. Elsa smiled warmly at the memory, though her cheeks warmed slightly further than they already were.

As she gently took the piece from Anna, carefully ensuring that she did not touch the young girl's hand while she did so, she quietly uttered, "Thank you."

She took a small bite of the chocolatl, and let it melt a bit in her mouth to test the flavour when it was not on the finger of the beautiful woman in front of her. By no means did it compare favourably. On it's own, this is quite… amer, nothing like—She was not finishing that train of thought at that moment, even as her cheeks darkened to a rose tint.

"If-If you'll please excuse me..." she started, as she tried to get herself out of the room, "I don't believe I'm feeling quite myself this evening. I'd like to return to my room."

"Was it not to your liking?" Anna asked hurriedly—and with very slightly too much urgency.

"It was. I've… never had anything like that. But again, I feel faint and should like to lie down."

As she retreated, she heard Hans offer an insincere "Feel better, Madame Maurer," but made no move to return the sentiment. There was no true need.

An hour or so later, Anna returned to their shared chamber to find Elsa did, indeed, lie down on her bed. Still dressed in the rather plain clothing usually reserved for peasant males, she gazed at the ceiling, spread-eagle and dazed. No will to move, to paint, to read… anything. Her head was too awash with worries and impossible possibilities for her to settle to any one thing.

"Again," Anna sighed as she sank down onto the bed next to her, "you didn't get my thumb."

"Your what?" she asked in a dazed tone.

"The melted chocolatl on my thumb. I keep having to lick it off myself." She let out a snort as she reached up to unpin the complicated bun at the nape of her neck. "Our patron did not even think to offer the same service; he's rather short-sighted that way."

Elsa's eyes raked over the waves of gentle auburn that unfurled slowly at the prompting of nimble fingertips, imagined them as a waterfall of scarlet crashing over befreckled crags into the sea below. The urge to paint rose powerfully in her, swelled, and then receded; perhaps another time.

In that same brief span of time, her face flushed rose again.

"I-I… What?"

She snapped out of her dazed state, and rapidly turned her head to face Anna. Recognition of what Anna so plainly stated flashed through Elsa's eyes in a flurry of emotions—confusion, amazement, mortification, terror, joy, love, want.

She stammered in disbelief, "Y-y-you… you want me to… t-to do… t-that? A-again?"

The smirk that spread across Anna's face was only bemused. "Je déconne! Plaisante. You're far too serious all the time, Elsa…" One of her shoulders shrugged very slightly. "Not that I minded you doing it, but obviously I don't expect you to again."

Curiosity exploded within Elsa's chest, so powerfully it could not be ignored. Before she could let something as annoying as rational thought get in the way, she asked, "But did you enjoy it?"

"You're awful," Anna giggled as she swatted her knee, standing up to approach her wardrobe and nip a chemise out from inside to change into after her bath. "Always teasing me."

"Well, I was under the impression you liked the teasing," she pushed. Stupidly. Idiotically. "If you don't, I shall of course stop at once."

The look Anna shot over her shoulder as she added her slippers to the armload should have been disapproving, or reassuring. Instead… there was a coquettish spice to the always-simmering roux of emotions in the younger woman's features now.

"Who said I wanted you to stop?" Her eyes remained on Elsa until she got to the door and slipped out, leaving Elsa completely befuddled.

Elsa, once again left alone with her clouded thoughts, returned to dazedly staring at the ceiling.

She rolled the events through her mind backwards, in an attempt to decipher what exactly had just occurred. She doesn't want me to stop teasing. And that look… DIEU, that look—what WAS that? She felt her heart race, slamming itself against her ribcage. And… she… she didn't say 'no'—

She suddenly froze, her thoughts halted as though they had just slammed up against a brick wall. Her heart felt like it had just jumped up into her throat.

Either way, she knew the distinct feeling of falling in love and this was it. She held her hand up to her chest, eyes staring emptily at the closed door in front of her. It conflicted her. It wasn't her teasing Anna anymore, it was the other way around and Elsa just couldn't stand it.

She looked down, sighing. I shouldn't have done that earlier…

But regrets were for the weak and the nostalgic. She would simply have to make sure she kept a tighter leash on her feelings from now on.

Hans never did truly thank Elsa for the gesture of the chocolatl, even though Anna was so obviously pleased by the gift. He simply acknowledged it was a shrewd choice. That was something, at the very least.

When he presented Anna with a necklace of fine silver and cut emerald a few days following—again, selected by her according to Anna's specified tastes—she glowed with appreciation and asked it to be put on her immediately. Afterward, Hans clapped her on the shoulder and reminded her that the château was now even closer to being hers than ever… given that Anna was closer to being his.

All the while, these proclamations began to irritate Elsa even more, and in ways she couldn't explain. The possessiveness he viewed both of them with; not merely Anna, which was bad enough, but herself. She had become his pawn, one he moved across the board to take the enemy queen and make it his own piece. Part of the collection. It churned her stomach, but what else could she do but play the part as she had been cast?

An irritable growl escaped from her lips as she ran a hand through her disheveled hair, peering at the words on the page. She held her quill tightly, poised over the last word, the last stroke...only to furiously cross out the entire line and those preceding the verse. Elsa all but jabbed the quill back into its inkwell, leaning back in her chair and wearily running her non-ink-stained hand down her face.

The words used to flow so easily. After all, writing was merely another form of painting—strokes and curves forming a picture of words. So, then...why was she having such difficulty crafting another poem for Hans to woo Anna over? She had already done so before—had written limericks, sonnets, fashioning their styles after Anna's favorite poets…

But then again...Elsa had not fallen so deeply before. Had not, at last, fully admitted to herself of this...attraction.

I can't do this! Not right now…

She stared darkly at the wall in front of her, face tightened into a fierce grimace.

She silently cursed to herself—slipping back into use of her mother-tongue, "Scheissen!" Elsa slammed her open palm against the desk in frustration.

"Why? Out of all the people in this vast world, why did I have to fall in love with her?"

She sat in thought for a few brief moments.

With fiery anger behind her voice she uttered, "Why did HE decide to court her? He's a wealthy man of good standing… Why would he choose to pursue an artiste—especially one from the streets? He doesn't even love her."

She let her head fall onto her open palms, elbows arched to rest against the desk surface. Tears rapidly streamed from her ice blue eyes, down her pale face and arms, soaking into the parchment. Her thin body shook with the force of her breaths, sobs wracked her chest and throat.

For god knows how long, she cried in anger, tears streaming down her cheeks until she'd fallen asleep on her desk.

The next morning was a loud one when Anna came barging in, sounding obnoxiously loud. "Good morning, Elsa!"

Elsa was startled awake, gasping and groaning as Anna was pounced up behind her, arms around her. Her heart dropped, and she looked out of the windows. "Morning… already…?" She turned to the redhead. She seemed extremely happy for some odd reason.

"Anna…? Why are you here?"

Anna blinked, slowly pulling away. "I thought you have to paint again—wait, why are your eyes red?"

"Oh...just a late night, is all," she managed to say, offering a tired smile in the girl's direction. Her hands moved quickly to crumple the papers scattered across the desk, gathering them into a makeshift ball to dispose later. "Failed ideas—nothing you need to worry about," Elsa elaborated further at the sight of Anna's inquisitive look.

"Please, they can't possibly be that bad under your artful touch," she scoffed, her lips quirking into a smile. The worry in her eyes, however, remained. "Are you...certain you're not feeling unwell?"

Elsa averted her gaze to the crumpled papers in her hands. "I'm fine, Anna."

"But—"

"Anna… is there something you want to tell me?" Elsa looked at her, nearly pleading for her to say something she wanted to hear. Anna's smile turned into a frown, watching Elsa lean against her desk, hands holding the edge. The look Elsa had was nothing she had seen before. Desire. Anger. Grief.

"What…" Anna chuckled nervously. "Do you?"

Elsa shrugged, turning her eyes to her hand, knuckles white at the tight hold. "When you said… you'd rather have me court you… were you joking?"

"I don't understand… Elsa, what are you saying? Are you okay?" Anna put her hand on top of Elsa's and she flinched. Elsa didn't answer her, eyes to her hand caressing her own. She was empty from any emotions and letting out a chuckle, she figured it sounded nothing that seemed to be joyful.

"Stop playing with my feelings," she whispered to herself.

"W-What?"

"I retract what I said before," Elsa continued quietly, "Perhaps I am feeling unwell."

"Elsa?"

Elsa sighed. "I think you should go."

"No." Anna was quick to grab hold of Elsa's hand and her eyebrows furrowed from worry to frustration. "Do you always run away like this? Elsa, you… is it me? Is this why you've been acting so strange around me lately? What have I done?"

She'd done many things that had made Elsa's blood rush to her brain, her heart beating and breaking each time she comes and goes. But this… having Anna say something as to wanting Elsa to court her, rather than to have some rich guy who found her in the streets to… Elsa felt as if she'd explode if this was to get a little more further.

"It's you," she answered boldly, but her voice was timid and quiet. It was filled with irritation. "It has always been you… and have you not noticed the way you've been acting towards me…?"

Elsa swallowed hard, clenching and unclenching her hands. "Can't you see what being around you does to me?"

"...lsa...Elsa!"

She jerked awake, blue eyes flying open to see Anna's concerned face hovering before her. Hands grasped tightly at her shoulders, shaking her again for good measure. The events of her apparent dream flitted through her mind, and Elsa reached a hand up to her forehead, cursing quietly.

Have I been so wrapped up in these thoughts swirling about that I can no longer distinguish fact from fiction?

"Elsa, I think you need to rest," she heard Anna say, and those hands tugged at her, urging her towards her bed. "Again. Rest again, I mean. You swooned just now! How hard have you been working yourself lately?"

Not hard enough if you continue to haunt my thoughts both day and night.

Elsa groaned, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. "I'm… I'm fine. I was up.. thinking about something." She shouldn't have said that because right this moment, Anna had a frown over her face, and her grip tightened on her arms.

"You had a dream… of some sort. Mumbling about—"

"Anna, it's nothing. I'm fine." But she was already pushed down in bed, and a blanket covering her warmly. She could fall asleep right this instant, but with Anna around… she couldn't do anything other than to wanting her to be around her more… only if Anna realized how Elsa was feeling.

"Elsa?"

"Anna, for the last time I'm fine, I just need some rest," Elsa hesitantly reassured.

Enough rest to put me out of this nightmare.

Anna tried to put a comforting hand on Elsa's shoulder, but she quickly backed away from the touch.

She sighed before she brought the subject up, "You were mumbling and muttering a little. Something about Hans, paintings, and you kept saying my name a lot…" she trailed off.

"Just...let me rest Anna, please. I'm usually not myself after working so long." And with that, Elsa buried herself under the covers hiding every inch of her face from Anna. She faintly heard a stutter from the redhead before she quietly stood up from the bed and headed towards the door.

Elsa wasn't sure whether her mind was playing with her again. It was difficult enough having such unrequited feelings towards the girl, but Anna's next question put her in a rather uncomfortable position.

"Um, Elsa? What do you think of Hans?" she asked.

"Excuse me?" Elsa got up from under the covers, rather quickly, but carefully. Anna would have stopped there and left Elsa to continue her rest, but the back of her mind was too curious, too persistent to let the subject go.

"It's just, you've been acting strange these past few days whenever I'm with him. I don't know if this marriage would be a good idea," Anna continued.

A part of Elsa wanted to feel relieved. Maybe Anna could back out of the marriage? Maybe she didn't have to be with Hans. Maybe she could finally stop putting herself through a masochistic struggle.

"What makes you say that?" Elsa replied, keeping her excitement low key.

"Well," Anna started playing with the sheets of the bed, "I just thought, are you envious of my spending time with Hans?"

More than anything. Why should you be with sideburns? The fool doesn't even love you like I do.

But before Elsa could give her response, Anna spoke. "...because if you feel that way. I could stop seeing him...if it's for the best."

Yes, please!

Elsa couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"...so that you could be with him."

Nevermind the last thought. Now, Elsa couldn't believe what she was hearing.

Elsa was dumbfounded. To Anna, she was deadpanned, but internally she wanted to laugh to high heaven.

Hans? And me? Anna, you know how to give a good laugh.

"No...no, Anna. It's not like that. I'm sure that whatever you and Hans have, it would be for the best. I mean, you love him, right?" Elsa asked, trying to sound supportive.

Anna hesitated a little, trying to find the best words to say.

"Then why have you been so… unlike yourself lately?" Anna demanded, growing frustrated. Seemed she had finally reached the end of her tether. "All this… muttering, whispers, you falling asleep at your desk, becoming flustered over a little chocolatl! I'm concerned."

A hollow little laugh sailed out of her. "Anna… how can you think it had anything to do with what was on your finger?"

"Then I… what, embarrassed you? By feeding you as I would feed a baby?"

Against her will, an image of Anna truly feeding her as she would feed a baby flitted through Elsa's mind, and she had to immediately speak before the image took root. "Enough! Just… stop pressing this matter, it is none of your concern! I am allowed a few eccentricities, am I not? I am artiste! It is part and parcel for those with my occupation!"

"Why do you keep glancing at my chest? Did I spill something?"

"OUT!" Elsa shouted as her face further reddened, gesturing violently toward the door. "I… I need rest, as you so accurately assessed! So let me rest and… and go on about your business!"

"And what if it is my business to know what your business is?" Anna retorted, raising her voice. "We're...We're partners in this, aren't we? And I—"

A knock on the door interrupted whatever she wanted to say next.

Pouncing on the chance to escape this unending nightmare, Elsa called out, "What is it?"

"'Tis I, your favourite monsieur, my sweets!" Hans chortled, without a care in the world. "I have a gift for one of you!"

"You really shouldn't have!" Elsa answered drily. Still, she turned to Anna, raising an eyebrow as if to goad her into opening the door.

"This conversation is not finished," Anna told her with a pout of her lips. "Something is bothering you, and I want to understand… and I shall." Then she went to open the door, already nothing but smiles when Hans's visage appeared framed by the portal through which he walked, holding a long garment bag that nearly brushed the floor.

"It has arrived!" he announced with a spring in his step. Elsa would not have been surprised if he were to tour jete his way into the room rather than walk. "The seamstresses have managed the impossible, I'm overjoyed!"

Taking quick little hops, Anna gazed at the undisclosed item with raw adoration. "Oooh, what is it, what is it?!"

Grinning at the girl's enthusiasm, Hans held the garment bag out for her to take. "See for yourself, my dear."

Of course, once Anna carefully opened the bag and withdrew what was hiding inside, there was a gasp of delight as her hands ran up and down the fabric of her new dress. Ruffs, cuffs, and wings, and bedecked in all manner of green and yellow tints that suited her hair and complexion perfectly. A small bit of royal purple here and there even seemed to hint that she was far above her true status—which had been something subtle Elsa wanted there, because if anyone deserved to be elevated…

"Ohhhh… it's gorgeous! Absolument parfait, je vous remercie!" Awed completely, she turned and studied the effect when draped against her body in the mirror, and caught Elsa's eyes in the glass. Holding her gaze in this way, she said, "Thank you so much! I will always think of you when I wear it."

Again and so easily, the German felt her pulse thundering in her ears. That couldn't mean what Anna seemed to intend… could it? Had she figured out their ruse and was merely playing along?

"Are you two going to stay in here long? Because I need to rest." Elsa crossed her arms, eyes flicking back and forth between Hans and Anna.

"Oh, um…" Anna turned to her, her grin melting down to a frown. "Yeah… Hans, we should let her rest."

The man's brow furrowed, his green eyes unreadable as he glanced her way. "Is something the matter?"

Elsa waved away whatever concerns—be they real or imaginary—he had, returning to her bed with her back mercifully turned towards them. "Even an artiste requires a break from her craft. And you must admit, the amount of progress you desire each day can be...exhausting if done so continuously." She chanced a brief glance over her shoulder. "I am not a work horse."

Hans held her gaze for a moment, his jaw hardening ever so slightly. "No, you are not," he said at last, heaving a theatrical sigh, "I suppose you've earned a day of rest, then. Come, Anna! Let us allow our dear Elsa to recuperate so that she may inspire us with her talents tomorrow, hm?"

"Yes, let's," Anna sighed, hanging the dress on the back of the closet door for the time being, smoothing it down with her hands. What a relief; she would be leaving, and that would be the end of this.

But once Elsa had crawled into the bed again and pulled the blankets up to her shoulder, she suddenly felt warm lips pressing down against her temple. The same lips that whispered as quietly as was humanly possible a moment later, "Merci, sweet Elsa." Once she pulled back, she added in a louder, gentle voice, "I hope you feel better soon."

Which left a blushing mess in the bed behind them once the door was closed. Fortunately, she had chosen to crawl into the bed facing away from them; she wouldn't have survived that otherwise.

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