"She. Is. Exasperating," said Elsa as she – well, she didn't stomp down the hallway, queens don't stomp – as she strode firmly and rapidly down the hallway, leaving Anna's rooms, and leaving frosty footprints behind her.

Beside her Ingrid, Maid-Consort to the Queen, walked briskly to keep up. Grasping for a response that was both honest and loyal to the royal family, she settled for "Oh dear."

" 'Oh dear' is right." Elsa came to a stop. "We have to meet the Tuscan and Sicilian dukes in fifteen minutes." She glanced back at a standing clock. "Less, now. And they're rivals. The last thing we need is to leave them together, unsupervised, impatient, and waiting for us. And she wasn't even dressed. She said she didn't want to go. She said they made her uncomfortable. Of course they do. They make me uncomfortable, but I'm going. It's my – our job. I had to argue her into coming. I couldn't leave until I was sure she was getting dressed for the reception. I need her."

Ingrid nodded. "To help with the diplomacy."

Elsa shook her head. "Oh god, I need her. She was so…passionate. And unrestrained, and infuriating, and alive. And half-undressed, and a little dishevelled, with little wisps of hair coming loose from her – Oh God, Ingrid, I can't meet the delegations like this. I don't think I can be trusted in the same room as her right now."

Elsa's feelings were contagious. Ingrid, seeing Elsa's agitation and arousal, standing so close to her, began to feel the same. She ran the back of her hand across her forehead. "I could help you relax, if you like." A shared glance let Elsa know what she meant.

"Thank you for offering, but there's no time. We can't get from here to my rooms to the reception in time, let alone…"

As Elsa folded her arms tightly and hugged herself, Ingrid thought frantically. All the spare rooms on that floor were occupied by one delegation or the other. The nearest empty one was farther away than the queen's chambers. There weren't any alternatives. Except…

Desperate times, desperate measures. Bold and agitated, without a moment to lose, Ingrid took Elsa's hand and led her a few paces to what looked like a large wardrobe. "My apologies, Your Majesty." She opened the door, took a moment to wrap a dustcloth around the doorhandle, and led Elsa inside, closing the door behind them.

Inside, there wasn't air, light, or room to spare. Surrounded by brooms, mops, and shelves of cleaning supplies, they couldn't stand more than two inches apart. The supply closet smelled of lye, borax, and furniture wax. "What in heaven?" said Elsa.

"I'm very, very sorry, but it's the only thing I could think of."

"You want us to hide in here?"

"Um, not exactly." Their bodies brushed against each other as Ingrid squirmed nervously. "Some of the staff, in spare moments, duck in here for…privacy. With each other." In the dim light Elsa could feel the heat of Ingrid's blushing.

"What if someone finds us in here?"

"I hung a dustcloth around the handle. It's a kind of signal. We shouldn't be interrupted. If we were to…do anything. I do apologize for my forwardness, and taking your hand without leave, and, well, I'm sorry but it's the best I could think of. Maybe. If you – "

"Shut up." Elsa grabbed Ingrid's wrists, slammed her against the wall, and kissed her hungrily. With a moan, Ingrid kissed back, her body pinned by Elsa's.

Elsa broke away from Ingrid's mouth to hiss in her ear, "Don't just stand there. Be infuriating." Ingrid struggled against Elsa, driving a thigh between Elsa's legs, trying to wrench her wrists free. She kissed and licked Elsa's neck, starting at the sensitive hollow behind her ear, fighting against Elsa writhing and pushing against her. Elsa tipped her head, pressing sideways against Ingrid's, trying to push her away from the sensitive spot that made her squirm and gasp. Ingrid's mouth only slid down and fastened just above Elsa's shoulder as the queen ground their hips together.

Elsa's hands left Ingrid's wrists, one wrapping around her waist and holding her even closer, the other running along her body, fiercely exploring the softness of Ingrid's body, buttocks, breasts, through her maid's uniform, claiming it as her possession.

Ingrid, her arms free, pressed them backwards against the wall. She had felt passion before with Elsa, but not as violently as this. She was frightened of the wild energy running through her body, urging her to lose control. She had lost control once, in a fury, and it hadn't been pleasant. "Hold me," she pleaded. "Pin me. I'm afraid of myself."

In a voice that was almost a growl, Elsa laughed and said, "I can take care of myself."

"I think I'm going to lose control."

"Good."

"I don't know what I'm going to do."

With a thump Elsa banged her against the wall. "Try me, brat."

With a whimper of surrender, Ingrid brought down her arms and quickly hiked her skirt up around her waist, leaving only her pantelettes (the traditional kind, open at the crotch) between her and her sovereign. As Elsa's mouth closed on Ingrid's earlobe, nipping and sucking, Ingrid grasped and yanked at the icefabric of Elsa's dress, frantically pulling it up. The air in the closet was hot and moist with their exertion. Elsa could taste it on her tongue as she inhaled. She inhaled harder as Ingrid's hands found their way under her dress. Not even pantelettes stood between Ingrid's probing fingers and Elsa's smooth, soft, and sensitive bottom. As one hand under Elsa's skirt grasped a rounded cheek the other twisted around to the front and brushed against the soft white fur.

Solvej walked to the supply closet to get some laundry soap. Her hand reached for the doorhandle. At the last moment she spotted the cloth and stopped herself. Any doubts she had were dispelled in an instant by the soft thudding she heard. Amused and curious, she put her hand against the frame and felt it shake. Someone's having an exciting time. She wondered who it was. Who they were, rather. No one else on staff was supposed to be in that wing of the castle just then. Except for Ingrid, but it couldn't be her, of course. Did Kurt finally get Marie out of the laundry? Had Lissi finally given in to one of her admirers?

She heard a voice say, "Harder, dammit! I won't break!" It sounded remarkably like the queen. Solvej grinned. And someone's playing make-believe. It was probably Lissi, then. She listened for a while longer, wondering who the other person was, but she didn't hear a male voice. The doorframe continued to vibrate under her hand. She realized she was getting caught up in what was happening, and stepped back. Just curiosity, that's all it was, she said to herself, and pretended to believe it. She walked briskly away to…do some dusting. Yeah, that was it. Dusting.

Ingrid stepped out of the supply closet in a happy daze, filling her lungs with fresh air. "All clear," she said breathily.

Elsa stepped out behind her, glancing nervously in all directions. "Am I late? How are we for time?"

Ingrid looked down the hall at the grandfather clock. "No problem. You're fine." She hummed to herself, thinking about just how fine Elsa was. As she turned to face her, she brought her hands up to cover an anxious, naughty smile. "Before you go, Your Majesty may want to conjure something with a collar." She indicated on her own neck where she had left a red mark on Elsa's.

With a frost-white ripple of magic, Elsa gave her dress a higher neck, and added a standing collar to her cape to balance it. "How's this?"

"You're perfect," said Ingrid. "You are perfect."

"You're pretty special yourself," said Elsa, and caressed Ingrid's cheek. "Are you…okay? Was I – it – too much?"

With a contented sigh Ingrid leaned into Elsa's palm. "I can honestly say that I have never felt better."

When Elsa entered the room, Anna excused herself from the dukes and rushed up to her. "Listen, I'm so sorry about how I behaved earlier. I was being a brat."

With a fond smile, Elsa replied, "Yes, you were. But we're here, you look beautiful, and everything is okay."

"You look pretty beautiful yourself. I like the new collar. And there's something else different." Anna tilted her head. "You look… What is it, rouge? Your hair? Well, anyway, you look good."

"Thank you. Now let's see if we can keep the dukes from putting their dukes up, at least until dinner."

It was a pleasant reception, with the queen and princess introducing the Tuscan and Sicilian nobles to their guests, and chatting pleasantly as servants circulated with drinks and hors-d'oeuvres.

The only moment of note was when the dukes presented presents to the queen. The Duke of Tuscany, a thin, dapper man, had his assistant bring forward an elaborate wooden chest a little smaller than a breadbox and set it on a side table. "It is my honour to present Your Majesty with this small token of the esteem of the Tuscan people and of myself." The assistant fiddled with the latch, but it wouldn't open. There was an uncomfortable pause filled with the rattling of the fastener as the nervous young man tried to get it unstuck. Exasperated, the duke said, "Harder, dammit! It won't break!"

He was shocked at the delicate sensibilities of Arendellan women. Apparently just saying "dammit" could make the queen and two of the servants blush beet red.