"You have not consummated, have you?"

A thick silence blanketed the room, like the fraught stillness after a gunshot. The feeling was even similar to being shot—not that Anna had ever been shot before. One of her less reputable suitors had gotten foxed at a party once, and had somberly recounted his experience with the irate husband of a lover.

"You don't even feel it at first. But it hits hard and your body goes numb and you cannot comprehend that you've been dealt a wound. Then it hurts like the very devil and then you wonder how you ever thought any woman would be worth it."

He had been one of the more interesting suitors, Anna was forced to admit. Interesting, but also the kind of man her father and Kristoff would scowl deeply at. She didn't really know why she had suddenly thought of him—perhaps his ill-repute reminded her of the countess's.

In spite of the odd association, the analogy was appropriate: she had been struck in the most unexpected way, and left at a loss. One moment, they'd been talking of honeymoon plans and the next… She stared at Lady Charlotte and said nothing. The numbness seemed to have spread to her vocal functions.

That was apparently confirmation enough for the countess. "Ah," she said.

What did that even mean? Her control was being tested, deliberately or not, Anna would not give in to the temptation to get up and leave the room. She thought of Elsa and her icy control instead.

Lady Charlotte found herself looking at a mirror of the queen in Anna's face. Her eyes, a lighter shade of blue than her royal spouse's, were narrowed and cool. Her jaw was set into a tense angle and her mouth a flat line.

Lady Charlotte leaned back and smiled faintly. "I've offended you."

"That's one way of putting it," Anna said, a distinct chill in her voice. She'd handled traps and snares veiled as polite conversation before. "It is none of your concern. Please refrain from addressing it with me."

"I didn't mean to offend, but I do prefer being direct. I could help you," the countess persisted, uncowed.

"I don't need your help with anything—" The countess gave her such a blandly superior look that Anna immediately clapped her mouth shut.

"Is that why your marriage remains unconsummated? Why, I'd have wagered that you two would have been on each other like animals on the wedding night. I am rarely wrong in these things—it comes with my trade."

Anna nearly blushed to her hairline; the countess wasn't wrong—she and Elsa had been on each other like animals on the night of their wedding. It'd only been Elsa's stubbornness that had prevented them from doing more, something which Anna still wasn't sure how she felt about. The disappointment that night had been keen, but she did not regret their decision to wait… did she?

"Ah," Lady Charlotte said again, the gleam in her eye making the hair on Anna's skin stand on end with premonition.

"What?" Anna snapped, her temper fraying.

The countess waved a hand and covered her mouth in a gesture that looked far too much like she was containing mirth. "Nothing, your highness. Forgive me. I was just… reminiscing. About what it was like to be so… young." Her green eyes lingered over Anna's plaits that said exactly where the notion of youth had originated. Anna knew the way she wore her braids was not exactly the height of fashion, but it was just how she'd always worn her hair. It was practical for riding and habitual and damn the countess for making her feel adolescent for how she wore her own hair. She had never felt so reduced before.

Then the countess's shoulders gave a telling little shake like the coup de grâce of this farce; her hand smothering laughter and making absolutely nothing better.

It was utterly humiliating. A complete stranger had seen through her and correctly surmised something they had no business knowing; Anna was certain her face was bright enough to be visible from the moon. She wasn't used to being so thoroughly mocked—the countess was simply so blatant about it—and she regretted every instance when she'd taken advantage of Elsa's formidable pride. Anna was capable of royal hauteur, but Elsa's brand of it was another thing entirely—most people didn't even know they'd been insulted when Elsa turned her attention on them. Anna wished for Elsa's talent for subtle disdain more than ever, instead of the speechless, indignant state she was currently languishing in.

"I would ask if there might be some… performance anxiety involved, but perhaps that isn't quite applicable in your case. That particular issue is usually a male one." Lady Charlotte peered at Anna's face. "I am curious as to what the problem is. I thought you both looked quite happy during your wedding and the party. Perhaps you've discovered something truly unappealing about the queen? Or maybe you prefer men?"

Anna opened her mouth with a ready denial to both questions, but she knew in the same instant that it wasn't entirely true—she really had never thought of women before Elsa. Even now after all those kisses, she still didn't think of women that way; she just thought of Elsa that way.

"Would you have preferred if the queen were a king instead?" The countess asked, the question surprisingly gentle.

"No," Anna found herself saying. "I like Elsa as she is. I don't want to change her."

"Not even the worst traits or habits?"

She wanted to say that Elsa didn't have any bad habits or traits, but that wasn't true either. Elsa was high-strung, had a probable penchant to prefer work over sleep, and regarded all horses with narrow-eyed suspicion. Elsa also had an infuriating habit of thinking she knew better than everyone else, which, Anna supposed, was expected for a queen, but certainly not acceptable when applied to their marriage. Anna had made herself very clear to Elsa what her opinion was on that particular quirk. Elsa wouldn't make the same mistake twice, of that Anna could be certain.

"No. I wouldn't change anything about Elsa," Anna said with the certainty of a childhood friendship, four days of marriage, and a lifetime of more to come. She'd never been more sure of that than anything else in her life.

"You're lucky. Most married couples always have something to say about their spouses. Though you are a newlywed, so perhaps you're still a bit starstruck—"

Anna scowled at Lady Charlotte. "Are you determined to make me find fault in Elsa? Because you won't succeed."

"Oh, not at all. I was just surprised at your certainty that you find nothing objectionable. Of course, speaking ill of others while they are not present is hardly polite. Forgive me."

Anna stared. She was being baited and it wasn't even very subtle, but the urge to answer with something acerbic was great. "I agree. It's not very polite," Anna said in lieu of insult.

Lady Charlotte looked almost… approving of her answer. "The same," she began, her green eyes sharp on Anna's face, "can be said of the dead. My husband was murdered."

Anna started and drew back, eyes wide. "My condolences," she managed. This was certainly not proper conversation, she thought, her mind scrambling. Not that anything else said before was either, but the shift had been so abrupt and jarring that she found herself floundering once again. Etiquette lessons were failing her—she could not recall a single instance where Master Flynn might have mentioned murdered husbands as a possible topic.

The countess acknowledged that with a nod, her smile never moving. "It was some years ago. He was a very handsome and charming man. A spendthrift and a wastrel, though."

She had no idea how to respond to that, nor did she have any notion of where the countess wanted to lead them. To her shame, she struggled between sympathy and distrust before settling on the former.

"Do you miss him?" Anna asked carefully.

Lady Charlotte paused. "I think you may be the first person to ask me that in some time," she finally said, her smile slipping just a little. "I do, yes."

"I'm very sorry for your loss," Anna said, more heartfelt than before.

"There's no need to repeat yourself, your highness. He died over a gambling debt." The countess's voice turned sardonic. "Murdered over money, just because he didn't have any. Some debt collectors prefer you pay with your life rather than with promises."

Anna shifted uncomfortably, wondering if that dart had been calculated to land where she thought it was. "I'm sorry for your loss, but why are you telling me this? I didn't know your husband."

"To help you with your queen. I don't advise waiting before seizing what you want. You think there will be more time, but sometimes there isn't any before the people you love are taken from you."

"Elsa is hardly going to be knifed in a back alley," Anna said before she could stop herself. She could feel her face paling the instant the words left her mouth.

The countess's brows lifted, her expression bemused. "No, I doubt queens are often found in back alleys, but my point still stands. If it's instruction that is keeping you from enjoying the evenings, I would certainly be able to provide… guidance."

Her face instantly flamed. Anna's immediate reaction was to tell the countess where she could put her "guidance," but the second, infinitely more alarming reaction was an overwhelming curiosity.

Before she could swallow the ball of trepidation that had lodged in her throat, the door opened with Elsa at the threshold.

"Anna. We are leaving," Elsa said, her voice barely above a growl. Her eyes flicked from Anna's face to Lady Charlotte, her expression darkening at what she saw. "What did you do?"

The countess smiled back at her, toothy as a crocodile. "A favor on your behalf." To Anna, she said, "I hope you'll take my words to heart, your highness. Perhaps I'll even address a letter or two to you myself if Queen Elsa is unappreciative of my efforts."

Fury leapt into Elsa's eyes. She started forward with icy intent, murder clear on her face.

"Let's go now, Elsa," Anna said loudly before Elsa could make the countess pay in a more permanent manner. She caught Elsa by the elbow and forcibly towed her out of the room, past the butler holding the door open, and outside to where the carriage was waiting. Elsa was strangely silent and very stiff, which was deeply worrying; Anna could only imagine the meeting with the duke had not gone as planned if her reaction to the countess was a sign.

Anna looked back when Elsa did not climb into the carriage after her.

"You go ahead. Back to the castle. I need to speak with Holsen." Elsa's jaw was tense, her eyes shuttered. Even the cant of her shoulders looked uncomfortably rigid.

"What? How are you going to get there? I'll come with you."

"I'll walk. His office is a few blocks away. Go home, I'll see you in a few hours." There was a discernible chill in her voice and demeanor, something that had not been there before. Anna knew immediately that she should not leave Elsa alone. She left the carriage and planted herself next to Elsa.

"I'll come with you," Anna repeated.

A dark scowl formed on Elsa's brow. "Anna, I don't—" She breathed in sharply and turned her face away.

"I don't think I'm the best kind of company right now," Elsa finished, her tone strained. "I'm not— You should go home. Your parents. They're leaving tomorrow and I don't know how long I'll be. You should—"

"Elsa, stop it. I'm coming with you." Heedless of the mounted guards, Anna drew Elsa into a quick hug. "Don't make me repeat myself, Elsa. I don't want to fight in front of other people," Anna whispered, her tone firm.

Elsa drew back to look at Anna, her scowl still present, then her breath came out in a sigh. "All right. I don't want to take the carriage. It's—confining and I'm—"

"It's fine, Elsa. The driver can just wait for us outside Holsen's office." The driver obeyed without another word and flicked his whip over the horses, but the guards were less cooperative. The officer on duty refused to leave them to wander the city alone until Elsa allowed them to stay; her assent was accompanied with an irritable snap threatening conscripted service into the Royal Navy if they protested any further. She ordered them to maintain a decorous distance in exchange for their presence; they reluctantly obeyed, organizing themselves with two men riding ahead and the last two at the rear. The square was largely devoid of people as they set off, but they would encounter more people as they traveled deeper into the city. The guards looked alert of that fact, their gazes sweeping the streets for large crowds.

"What happened with the duke, Elsa?"

Elsa glanced at the guards even though they were far enough to not make out any conversation. "I don't particularly want to talk about it, Anna."

"Then why are we going to Holsen?"

"I want to know how much of a fuss I'll cause if I have him ejected from the kingdom."

Anna turned wide eyes on Elsa. "Are you—Elsa, are you serious?"

Elsa glanced at Anna, her face inscrutable. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Elsa, what did he say to you?"

"I'd prefer not to discuss it here."

"Why? Because we're in public? There's nobody around and the guards can't hear us."

Elsa stopped short and rounded on Anna, her temper almost visibly fraying before Anna's eyes. "He had the unmitigated gall to tell me that we should not have married," Elsa spat. "He told me that I could not choose my heir. He questioned my authority in my own kingdom. And he threatened a political fight with the Royal Council should I exercise my authority." Elsa's voice was low, but Anna could feel the fire behind each word. "I will remove him in the way I deem fit, Anna. I will not bend on this, so do not attempt it."

Anna was shocked at what Elsa had relayed, but that part wasn't what had her attention. She met Elsa's gaze and asked, "What makes you think I would try to stop you?"

Elsa stared at her. Slowly, composure returned until she was able to speak without shaking with suppressed anger. "I don't know," Elsa said with a distinctly cautious air, much like how she used to approach her old cranky pony. "Your gentle, giving nature, perhaps?"

Anna aimed an exasperated look at her. "I'm hardly a saint, Elsa. I don't expect you to be one either. Did the duke really say all that to you? That we shouldn't have married?"

Elsa's jaw flexed. "There's nothing wrong with my hearing, Anna."

"Why did he say it? He's a duke, but you're the queen, Elsa. He's not even a peer of the realm."

"He said it was because of heirs, that people wouldn't accept us adopting. An adopted heir might have a disputed claim." Elsa made an irritated sound. "I don't know what he thinks, probably that if I can't rule because I'm busy dealing with rebellions, then he has to worry about how much he owes the kingdom.'

Anna suddenly felt cold. It was exactly what Elsa had said when they'd fought about the marriage contract, and to hear it from another peer, a duke—"Elsa, what does that mean? You said we would adopt, are you going to change your mind—"

"'Change my mind'?" Elsa looked offended, drawing up to her full height like a spitting cobra. "'Change my mind'? Because some foreigner duke thinks I cannot run my own country? Because he thinks he knows who I ought to marry and who my successor should be?" Elsa sneered magnificently, utter contempt written into every line of her face. Anna had never seen arrogance framed so spectacularly; she could have kissed that sneer right off Elsa's face if it weren't for the relief that flooded her. "The nerve of the man, Anna, the utter nerve of that ass. If he wasn't a duke, I'd have had him trussed up like a game pheasant and displayed over the damned square for everybody to—"

Anna could bear it no longer. She didn't care about the guards or passerby, nor the fact that they were standing in broad daylight and what she was about to do might not be entirely welcome; Elsa couldn't expect her to just stand there and not kiss her. Anna brought Elsa's face down with a hand around the back of her neck and laid her lips against that mouth. Elsa made a startled noise that sounded like a squeak, her tirade cut short. Anna let the kiss linger until Elsa began to quiver.

When they parted, Elsa was red and battling embarrassment, glancing pointedly at the guards. "Anna, we're outside, you can't just—do that. People will—they'll— "

"What, see me kissing you?" Anna was amused. "I think they'll be too busy marveling at how red you are rather than worrying about impropriety."

Elsa gave her a helpless look. "You know very well it's not appropriate," she hissed.

"There's nobody around. The nearest person is down that street, and look, the guards know what they're about."

Elsa looked. Their escorts had maintained the mandatory distance, but shifted to position their horses to obscure the view of any passerby. The guards were also carefully avoiding looking at their charges as well, their eyes studiously cast somewhere about the horizon. Good god. The castle was going to be teeming with gossip the instant they returned.

"Some warning next time, please," was the best Elsa could come up with.

Anna smiled at her, but it slipped as she asked, "Elsa, do you think what the duke said has any merit? That people wouldn't accept an adopted heir?"

Elsa studied her. Gently, Elsa clasped her hands about Anna's wrists and brought their hands down between them. Her gloved hands were cool, but warming again. "Were you afraid that I would go back on my word about adoption?"

"At first," Anna admitted. "I know the line of succession isn't a trivial thing, but I hadn't thought about it before the wedding—about what it would mean for me, that is. I just thought that people would accept adoption the same way they did the betrothal."

Elsa looked away meaningfully. "Let's not stand here in the middle of the street," she said. "I want to see Holsen before it gets late."

They walked with Anna's hand tucked under Elsa's arm. Most of the people they passed were startled at the sight of the queen and princess consort apparently enjoying an afternoon stroll, but no large crowds formed. People simply smiled and waved and then went along their way.

"I've given it some thought after our… argument. The matter of adoption," Elsa began.

Anna looked askance at Elsa. "Yes?"

"In response to your earlier question—ultimately, no, I don't think the duke's opinion has much weight. I am the queen. It is my prerogative to choose a successor and Weselton has no right or place in my decision-making. As for what the kingdom thinks… Well, that I am a bit less sure about. The fact that my father had drawn up a draft to allow adoption would indicate he thought it would be acceptable. That's also why I want to see Holsen—to get that draft and see what my father might have written on it." Elsa met Anna's eyes. "I won't go back on my word. I made a promise to you and I will keep it."

Anna leaned her shoulder against Elsa in a nudge. "But do you want it? Adoption?"

"With you, yes."

Anna looked up at the certainty she heard in Elsa's voice. "What if you could have your own children, though? Barring worries about your powers being passed on. You said you put that clause in because you thought I wanted to have my own children. What about you?"

It was a long moment before Elsa answered, and when she did, each word was said with great care. "I'm not sure. I've always thought, well, my powers. They shouldn't be passed on, but if I had a choice… that, I have never considered before. The only thought I've had about our marriage was how… easy it would have been if I were a man. How it would resolve many obstacles, ones that we are seeing now. There wouldn't be idiot dukes confronting me about my successor, for one."

Anna smiled at the irritated tone and decided to steer the conversation down a friendlier road. "If you were a man, we could have children, true. What if you were a man with ice magic? Would you still have wanted children?"

Anna had the rare pleasure of watching Elsa's jaw going slack. "I don't know," Elsa managed. "I just—yes, it'd be easier, the heir matter would have been taken care of, but the powers—" Elsa frowned as her eyes took on a contemplative look.

"I'd have wanted a little blonde girl who would look just like you," Anna said

Elsa gave a surprised laugh. "If I were a man, I don't think I'd want my daughter to look like me. She should look like you, her mother. Beautiful and sweet-tempered."

It was Anna's turn to laugh, her cheeks warming at the compliment. "'Beautiful and sweet-tempered'?"

"Mm, yes. Perhaps not your sense of grace, though; I imagine our daughter wouldn't wish to trip on her way to the altar." Elsa grinned when Anna gave her arm a deservedly good pinch.

"I can't imagine you as a man, though," Anna said, her eyes on Elsa's face. "You're just—you." Even if many of her mannerisms had been inherited from her father, Elsa's bearing was distinctly her own.

Elsa glanced at Anna as though she could read her thoughts. "I don't harbor any desire to be a man. Being a man might have made things easier in some ways, but I'm not unhappy that I'm a woman. I suppose I have my mother to thank for that. She made sure my father didn't make me do nothing but study. My mother wanted me to do things that I liked outside of lessons, like art." Elsa smiled. "My father had a more visible influence on my life, but my mother had just as strong an influence, if more subtle."

"I wouldn't change you," Anna repeated, remembering what she'd told the countess. "I think you're fine as you are."

"Not even my occasionally sour temperament?"

"It gives you character," Anna stoutly said, recognizing a trap when she saw one.

"Ah, well. I must have plenty of character for you to admire, then."

Anna laughed at the arid tone, not at all tempted to take the proffered bait. "Well, I am apparently sweet-tempered, so that should make up for your lack of it."

"A fine match we are," Elsa replied. "I daresay my father had no idea how fantastically well-suited we would be when he arranged our marriage."

"Maybe he did. I always thought your father knew just about everything."

"You wouldn't be alone in that assessment. I also thought he was omniscient, to a point." Elsa suddenly frowned at her. "Anna, what did the countess say to you? If I'm going to deport a duke, it would be child's play for me to kick the countess out, too. I might even save myself the fare and put them on the same ship since they obviously enjoy each other's company."

Anna laughed, delighted at the alliteration. "Deporting dukes and kicking countesses? Elsa, I think you are clever sometimes."

To Elsa's credit, her eyes did not roll, but an imperious eyebrow did twitch at Anna. "I live to serve, your highness. Even if all that is required is some simple word play and an even simpler mind to enjoy it."

Anna smacked Elsa's arm. "Elsa! I was complimenting you."

"It was as backhanded as that blow. I have witnesses of your assault on my person this time." Elsa eyed Anna. "But really, what did the countess say to you? You looked upset when I came in. She said something about doing me a favor and favors from that type usually aren't, at all."

What to say? Anna pondered it, chewing her lip as she did so. If she gave the word, Elsa would follow through with her threat and have Lady Charlotte removed on the next available ship. That prospect was not entirely unwelcome, but Anna felt… responsible. She was already uncomfortable with the thought of exercising power like that, even if it was warranted in some way. Perhaps Elsa was right—maybe she did have a kind nature that made her reluctant to exact retribution for slights.

"She didn't say much," Anna said. She was lying to Elsa, even after all that talk about not keeping things from each other, but she could hardly tell Elsa that the countess knew intimate details about them. "She… she told me a little bit about her husband," Anna hedged.

"Her husband?"

"How he was killed over a gambling debt."

Elsa's head whipped to Anna. "She talked to you about her husband's murder."

"Not the murder itself! It was for advice. She misses him," Anna protested. "I think she loved him."

Elsa's expression remained dubious. "What kind of advice was she giving, exactly?"

"Just… about people being taken away too quickly. Like her husband."

Something dark passed over Elsa's face, like flickered shadow from a wind-blown flame. "I see," Elsa said. Too late did Anna realize where Elsa's thoughts had immediately gone.

"I'm sorry, I didn't think—I mean, I don't think the countess had meant your parents."

"No, I doubt she did," Elsa said. They stopped before a stately townhouse with a gold-lettered plaque that read The Law Offices of Holsen & Calhoun. "But we'll speak more on that later."

While the guards waited outside, a secretary showed them to Holsen's office.

"Your majesty," Holsen greeted with a bow. He was already standing by his desk with two chairs pulled out. His suit was impeccable as usual, though there were signs that his desk had been hastily cleared away for their arrival. "A lovely surprise to see you and the princess consort again."

"I apologize for the unannounced meeting and if I've interrupted anything," Elsa said as she and Anna took their seats. "I've a matter of some importance to speak to you about. I'll try to keep this brief."

"Of course," Holsen replied, settling behind his desk. "How may I be of assistance?"

While Elsa recounted the conversation with the duke again, Anna found her attention drifting to her spouse. Elsa was calmer than she had been before, but there was still a shimmer of anger in the set of her jaw and the angle of her brows. Even her pale hair seemed to embody her crackling energy, the thick tresses flowing and fluttering with every toss and jerk of Elsa's head.

Elsa just looked so alive. How could Elsa have ever thought she was boring? She radiated with vitality and purpose in a way that Anna had never seen before. What had changed? Anna wondered. Elsa looked no different than before—she was still beautiful as ever, a fact that nobody could miss—yet there was a prickling awareness of everything that Elsa meant to her, and how all of it belonged to her. Elsa was hers by name and much more—Anna knew that Elsa loved her, even if she didn't know how she had come to earn that love.

Maybe that was it, Anna realized. Elsa was fighting for them. Not for duty, not for legacy, but for them. There was a determination in her eyes, a honed focus that Anna had only seen when Elsa played chess with her father and scented victory. Only, Anna didn't think Elsa felt close to victory this time; Elsa wasn't going to fight because she thought she was going to win—Elsa was going to fight to win. If she needed proof of Elsa's feelings, it was right there before her eyes.

But why hadn't Elsa said anything yet? Was Elsa planning on never telling her, or even waiting for her to say something first? Anna resisted pressing her hand to her aching temple. She had thought, naively, that love was supposed to be easy and uncomplicated; after all, if both people loved each other, they'd say it to one another and that was that, wasn't it?

"The timing is most suspect," Holsen began once Elsa had finished. "As you noted, there are some indications that the duke's comments are unlikely to be completely selfless. The duke never aired any misgivings to the renewed betrothal announcement a year ago. To do so now does invite some skepticism."

"Nobody did say anything before," Elsa replied. "As far as I know, nobody breathed a word to my father when he announced it nearly five years ago."

"Not even petty gossip?" Holsen asked.

"The aristocracy will always gossip," Elsa said dismissively. "They can talk themselves blue in the face for how much their pettiness means to me. They know well enough to continue keeping their mouths shut in my presence."

Elsa exhaled, her jaw clenched. "Holsen, there is the matter of tradition with blood heirs, but some of these people have forgotten that I am the queen. If I wanted to entertain myself and appoint my wife's bloody horse as my new head advisor, it is entirely within my right to do so."

Holsen chuckled. "If you so wished, your majesty, nobody would gainsay your right to it, though they may be dismayed at your choice. Jests aside, if we were to lend some credit to the duke's concerns, I don't believe that any peer will resist your plan for adoption. If there were no protests prior to the betrothal announcement, and up to your wedding, then I see no cause for concern."

"I think some may have been assuming that Anna would… bear an heir," Elsa said, exchanging a glance with Anna.

Holsen's brow furrowed. "That's not always the case with marriages such as yours. It cannot be expected."

"It shouldn't have been an expectation, but nonetheless, it may have become one."

"Some of the more traditional families may take issue, I imagine. If they do, they would most likely do so privately—as newly crowned as you are, your majesty, no forward-thinking lord should wish to earn the displeasure of the crown. The matter of accession also falls within the jurisdiction of the royal family and the Royal Council. Your father and I had discussed this at some length, your majesty."

"My father?" Elsa repeated. "He spoke in detail about this?"

"Yes, your majesty. We agreed that most of the populace would be unlikely to reject an adopted heir; adoption is already a common enough practice amongst the lower class. It was only a matter of passing the law as a way of announcing your intent to adopt, as well as to preempt the unlikely event of a far-flung relative attempting to lay claim to the throne."

Elsa sat back heavily, heart pounding. It shouldn't have affected her so much given she had already known the truth from Alice. It was nothing more than supporting evidence of a truth she knew, but it was another thing to hear Holsen say that her father had spoken about adoption. It ached that it had taken this long for her to find the truth, to have carried the pain and uncertainty that she had been unworthy to her father's eyes for nothing—all because of death and self-doubt. She started when she felt a warm hand grip her own. Anna was smiling gently at her.

The wordless gesture was both intimate and comforting. The tension drained out of her, leaving her limbs relaxed and her breathing easier. Elsa freed her hand, turned it palm up gripped Anna's hand in gratitude. Somehow, her father had known what Anna meant to her. He had defied everything to make their marriage possible and Elsa was not going to squander this chance.

She was not going to give Anna up.

Holsen watched the queen and princess consort for a moment, before he opened a drawer and placed a folder on the desk before Elsa. "It's the draft of the new inheritance law your father wrote. I was going to have it sent over today, but you arrived before I could do so."

Elsa's hand was remarkably steady as she touched the edge of the folder. It had to have been one of the last things her father worked on before his death, and to have it before her, to know that inside she would find his notes on the margins, his corrections and bold slashes through unnecessary words—Elsa swallowed.

"Thank you, Holsen," Elsa said. She would not read it here, a fact that Holsen seemed to sense.

"I am glad that I could be of help. Now, in regard to your desire to expel the duke from the kingdom, I would not suggest it. I would recommend waiting to see what his grace actually does if you allow him to stay."

Elsa was silent as she contemplated it.

Anna finally spoke. "That makes some sense," she said, frowning. "The duke doesn't like you or Arendelle, so why would it matter to him if you did something he disapproved of? He doesn't stand to gain anything from making you angry."

"He was talking about unrest if I adopted. But as we discussed, even if there were some kind of crisis, it's not likely to be violent. At worst, there'd be some nobles grumbling about it, but it is my choice who my successor should be," Elsa said, her eyes falling back on the folder. "My father could have done the same to me. If he thought I was unfit, he could have made it so that I would not have inherited and the throne would have been passed down to whoever he wanted."

"With any other prince or princess, they would have fought to regain their birthright," Holsen pointed out. "I do not think you would have done the same, your majesty."

"I made sure I earned my birthright. My father valued merit and ability, not parentage." Elsa sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "As much as I'd like to have the duke forcibly escorted to the docks, I see your point. I've no idea why Weselton wanted to antagonize me unless he thought I would be weak-willed enough to allow him to prod me like a zoo animal. I'll call a session with the Council as well."

"A sound course of action. If you wish, I will have Calhoun acquaint himself with the duke."

Elsa smiled in spite of herself—Calhoun's method of "acquainting" himself to people included digging up disconcertingly personal details that were more often than not completely irrelevant. She never knew how serious Calhoun was when he relayed those sorts of things or if he simply enjoyed shocking people, like a dog presenting its master with a particularly awful—and very dead—toy. "Please. I understand there may be a delay given Calhoun is occupied with the countess."

"He has to earn his salary some time," Holsen replied, his face entirely serious.

The meeting concluded with Holsen showing them out to their waiting carriage. Elsa sat with the folder laid carefully on her lap, a hand laid over the leather cover.

"What are you going to do, Elsa?" Anna asked, leaning against Elsa's shoulder. Elsa rested her arm around Anna's shoulders with a faint smile.

"I haven't changed my mind, Anna. I'm going to make sure I finish what my father started. And if anybody tries to stop me, they can pitch themselves off the North Mountain with my blessing."

Anna chuckled at the image. "With just your blessing?"

"I suppose I could make their flight more comfortable with a helpful boot. I endeavor to please and serve." Elsa's tone was dry as sawdust.

"What changed, Elsa?" Anna asked after a pause. "Just a few days ago, you were convinced that an adopted heir wasn't acceptable at all. You wanted to send me off to find some man or other—"

Elsa angled her head down until her nose was buried in warm, copper hair. "Because I thought I wasn't anything but everybody else's wants and expectations, Anna," Elsa murmured, her breath warm against Anna's temple. "It didn't matter what I wanted. It mattered what my father wanted, what the kingdom wanted, what you wanted. What I wanted… never played a role in any of my decisions."

"Elsa," Anna sighed deeply. "You can't be selfless all the time. Nobody can be like that."

"I know. I realized my mistake." Elsa tightened her hold on Anna when she started to shift. "No, let me finish. My mistake was that I thought I knew what everybody wanted. I thought my father wanted me to think of nothing but Arendelle. I thought the kingdom wanted a blood heir. And I thought you wanted someone else, and a different life. But I was wrong. And I'm almost never wrong," Elsa added, sounding rather peeved for what should have been a valuable lesson in hubris.

Anna drew back to narrow her eyes at Elsa and was only half-serious when she answered. "How very big of you to admit that you don't know everything. Did that fall from your high horse hurt much? Because now you have to live amongst us lesser mortals and—"

Elsa laughed, the sound full and rich. The queen pulled Anna back into a hug, pressing Anna's face into the crook of her shoulder to muffle the tart words. "Shh. No, it didn't hurt very much, though I appreciate your concern. I had a very good teacher who showed me how to take a tumble off a horse," Elsa placated with a very wide and unapologetic grin that Anna would have been tempted to smack off her face if she could see it.

"You're lucky you're the queen," Anna muttered, her face tucked against Elsa's neck. She breathed in Elsa's scent, her lashes brushing against pale skin as her eyes slid shut. "I think it's the only reason anyone tolerates you. That, and your good looks."

Laughter resounded through Elsa's chest. "I don't think I've ever been put in my place so skillfully. Well done, your highness."

"I also endeavor to please and serve," Anna said with an eyeroll, even though Elsa couldn't see it.

Anna could tell Elsa was grinning at her response, until Elsa said something that made her eyes roll even more dramatically: "You think I have good looks?"

"I suppose they could be improved with a potato sack over your head, I mean, you do ride like one—" She was interrupted by an uncouth yelp of laughter as gloved fingers dug into her side. Anna lurched gracelessly away from Elsa's hand, alternating between frantic laughter and protests. Elsa refused to release Anna, her grip surprisingly strong as she doggedly enacted retribution.

"Elsa! Stop it, we're in a carriage!" Anna pleaded breathlessly, red in the face and hair askew.

"You started it. I was only exercising my sovereign right to stop slander." But Elsa stopped, her hands smoothing Anna's thrashed skirts flat. "Besides, I think we've done much worse things in a carriage." She had meant her tone to be light, but it had come out rough enough to have Anna looking at her from beneath thick lashes that put fire in her veins.

"We're in a carriage," Elsa repeated weakly, the irony not lost on her. She should have been alarmed at how little it took for them to reach that point—one moment, sweetness and laughter, and the next, just—so much heat.

Anna paid her no mind and laid her hands over the slope of Elsa's shoulders, fingers fanning over shoulder blades. Elsa shook underneath her palms and glanced out the window to distract herself—they weren't quite out of the city yet, but they would be soon. She opened her mouth to protest.

"I'm only touching you, Elsa. As you said, we've done much worse things," Anna said, her voice husky and her eyes dark. "Do you remember? It was only a few days ago that we got married, but it feels like it's been so long. You had that military uniform on, with the epaulettes over your shoulders."

"I remember." The memory of that carriage ride had been seared into her brain; Elsa was certain nothing short of a traumatic boulder drop to the head would be enough to erase it. "You were beautiful in your wedding dress. I don't think I told you, but you were. I wanted—" If they were going to be brutally honest, Elsa had wanted it anywhere but on Anna during that cruelly short ride. "I wanted that day to be perfect for you," Elsa said instead, because that felt very safe and was also true.

Anna's eyes went wide. "It was our day," she said, her face sober. "We got married. Not just me."

"I know. But that was still my motivation."

Anna was silent. "And has that changed? Your motivations."

Elsa knew Anna wasn't asking about the wedding anymore. She considered her answer and answered carefully. "Yes, I think they have. When I said I thought I knew what everyone wanted, but I never thought about what I wanted. I don't want to think about everybody else anymore, Anna." Elsa held a copper plait between her fingers, her thumb brushing over the end. "I want to chase my own happiness for once."

Elsa looked a little amazed at her own words, so Anna leaned in to kiss her gently. "You deserve to be happy, Elsa. You deserve… everything."

The carriage came to a stop before Elsa could answer.

"I'll see you at dinner," Elsa said once they were standing outside, the folder under her arm. "I want to take a little time to read this."

Anna knew Elsa wanted to be alone to do that, and nodded with a smile. "Until dinner, then."

While Elsa left for her study, Anna headed to her room and found Gerda in the midst of delivering a wrapped package.

"A messenger came saying this was for you," Gerda said with a frown. "He was very insistent that it was only to come to you."

Anna hefted the package. It was wrapped in plain paper with twine and no signs of who the sender was, but the shape and weight indicated a box of some kind. "Did he say who sent it?"

"He didn't."

Anna had a good idea of who had sent it and had no wish to confirm her suspicions before an audience. She deliberately set it aside on her dresser, much to Gerda's disappointment. "Thank you, Gerda," Anna said pointedly.

Gerda remained unmoved, but her expression softened from blatant curiosity to matronly interest. "Did you enjoy your outing today?"

"It wasn't really an outing, Gerda. It was just a business meeting with a duke, and then an unscheduled one with Holsen."

"I thought I heard you two had enjoyed a nice walk in the city as well," Gerda countered with a sly look.

Anna gazed at Gerda, nonplussed. Astonishing—the castle gossip had beaten her to her own room. Granted, she had taken a detour to the stables to see if her parents had returned yet, but it still defied reasonable expectation. "We did," Anna hazarded, wary of fishing expeditions. "Elsa wanted to walk."

To Anna's horror, unshed tears shined over Gerda's eyes. A pang of guilt lodged itself into her chest that rendered her feeling clumsy and confused. Anna immediately started patting her pockets for a handkerchief and silently cursed her inability to ever have one available. She wished desperately for Elsa, who would undoubtedly have the right words and an arsenal of personal cloths. "Ah, Gerda, I'm sorry, was it something I said? I didn't mean to—"

"No, no, it's not you, my dear," Gerda interrupted, forestalling further apologies. The housekeeper dabbed at the corner of her eyes with a handkerchief fished out from her apron. "It would never be you."

"Oh. All right." Anna fidgeted, feeling very young and helpless. "Should I… should I leave?"

Gerda gave a mighty sniffle, but shook her head. "No, forgive me. It's just… I'm so happy."

Anna gave her a dubious look. "Happy?"

"Yes. I've never seen my little girl so happy before. Not in years." Gerda cupped Anna's face with warm hands and smiled. "You did that for her. I knew you would be good for her and I was right."

"Oh. You mean—Elsa?" Anna flushed as the full import of Gerda's words sank in. "I—really? I make her that happy?"

"I can't even remember the last time she went out for a walk, or much less a ride!" Gerda said, blowing her nose as she did so. "All it's been since the old king and queen passed, may God rest their souls, is work and wedding arrangements and meetings. And if she did go out, it was for more meetings! A terrible thing, nobody should be cooped up inside all day with nothing for company but documents and dusty tomes."

An idea formed, and it was one that Anna felt almost immediately guilty for considering. Gerda had been there for Elsa when her parents died. Anna knew, if she asked it of Gerda, the housekeeper would probably tell her everything that had occurred. But the thought of finding details about something so deeply personal, especially when it involved death and grief, and asking someone other than Elsa… Anna gently pushed the idea away. She would not think of it now. Elsa might yet open up about the loss, so Anna would be patient.

"You're so very good for her," Gerda said, drawing Anna back. "You've even gotten her to sleep more."

That got Anna's attention. It was confirmation that Elsa had not been taking care of herself. "Did she really work so much?" Anna prompted.

"Goodness, I don't know what she got up to in the early hours, but it certainly wasn't sleep! Sometimes the servants would catch her napping in the middle of the day at her desk, and they knew better than to disturb her."

Anna sighed. Tired enough to sleep during the day? Little wonder that Elsa had been sleeping so much lately if a decent night's rest was so elusive. It hurt even more to think how long this could have been going on.

"But that's in the past now," Gerda said firmly. She gave Anna a motherly pat on the cheek and stepped back. "You love each other and you'll make each other so happy. My little girl's bought all those fine horses that you love, even hired new cooks and fixed up the greenhouse with so many lovely flowers—"

"Wait, what?" Anna interrupted. "Did Elsa get more than the horses? She never mentioned hiring cooks or anything about the greenhouse."

Gerda stared back, just as confused. "Yes, of course. She never said anything about them? They were to be wedding gifts, I believe."

Anna shook her head. "No. I only know about my new wardrobe and the horses. Elsa hasn't said anything else about other… renovations."

"Oh, dear." Gerda was stricken. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have been the one to tell you. Perhaps she was waiting until later? There are all those other wedding gifts guests left that haven't been opened."

Anna reeled at the thought of more gifts from Elsa, the ones left by the other guests notwithstanding as she had completely forgotten about those and cared no more about them now than she had before. She couldn't come up with a single reason why Elsa would have chosen to not inform her about those other than maybe Elsa really had chosen to wait before presenting them.

"Thank you for telling me, Gerda," Anna said absentmindedly, still pondering Elsa's behavior. "I won't tell Elsa, I promise."

Gerda was visibly relieved. "I hope I didn't ruin a surprise, but we'll keep it between ourselves if it was, won't we?"

Anna laughed. "Yes, just like all those sweets you used to sneak me and Elsa."

Gerda gazed at Anna for moment, smiling fondly until the housekeeper drew Anna into a warm hug. "I'm so happy for you two. I always knew that you'd be just lovely together. The old king did the best thing when he arranged your marriage. My little girl has always loved you, you know," Gerda remarked as she pulled away.

"What? 'Always?'" Anna echoed. Anna wanted to ask how long had Elsa felt this way, but Gerda simply patted her cheek in that indulgent, motherly way that meant nothing useful was going to be pried out no matter how persistently she tried.

"I know you'll take care of her," Gerda said. "You love her, too."

Then Gerda took her leave to see to dinner preparations, abandoning Anna to stare blankly after her while feeling a bit cheated. People couldn't just do that, Anna thought dazedly. They couldn't just drop revelations like that and expect to leave off before explaining anything. It just wasn't fair.

But it did raise the question of why Elsa still hadn't said anything about her feelings. What if Elsa was afraid of her response? Anna almost immediately rejected the notion, but the thought refused to be dismissed. If she were truly honest with herself, it wasn't just friendship she felt for Elsa, but she didn't know what to call what she felt, either. Perhaps it was best that Elsa had said nothing yet—Anna would not lie, but she didn't want to hurt or disappoint Elsa with some vague, nebulous answer, either.

Aware that she would accomplish nothing turning it over endlessly in her mind as Elsa was wont to do, Anna sat on a chair by her dresser to see to the package. The countess had certainly wasted no time delivering on her promise of more letters; even without a note, Anna was certain it was from Lady Charlotte.

She wondered if she ought to call a footman in case the thing contained a viper, but was instantly remorseful for entertaining the unworthy thought. By all accounts, Lady Charlotte had shown herself to be grossly inappropriate for polite company, but certainly not some evil witch—the mention of her slain husband softened Anna's feelings toward the woman, regardless of whether that had been the other woman's intention or not. Despite feeling kinder, Anna untied the twine with some trepidation and unwrapped the paper. She blinked in surprise.

It was a book. Leatherbound, well-worn, and French if the title was any indication: Une Dame à Paris—A Lady in Paris. Anna pulled free a piece of paper that had been tucked behind the front cover with a thin sliver peeking out, and examined the bold handwriting.

Do not wait for what will come—seize what you want with both hands. Inexperience is also fleeting, so read well, Princess. It need not be a solitary pursuit.

She wrinkled her brow at the unsigned note. The words made little sense to her, but it did confirm that it was from Lady Charlotte. Anna picked up the book, thumbing through the pages to the middle, and squinted at the words. She could read French a bit better than she could speak it, but she knew she would need either a dictionary or Elsa's assistance to comprehend more than every other word.

"Good god, did she send me a romance novel?" Anna wondered out loud with some bemusement. "Ah, what is this ... 'son mari était dans la chambre à côté, pourtant elle continuait de me dévorer des yeux et elle souleva sa jupe. Je me suis agenouillée devant elle telle une pécheresse repentante, pour découvrir son intimité déjà humide.'"

It took several seconds for her to decipher each word, string them together, and form the meaning. It took even longer for the meaning to take before her entire body went rigid with shock.

"Oh, my god," Anna said, a little wild-eyed. "Oh, my god."

If she was correct, then the passage she'd just read was: '...her husband was only a room away, but she still looked at me with hot, bright eyes and lifted her skirts. I kneeled before her like a penitent sinner, and found her bare and wet for me…'

The book slid free of numb fingers, bounced off her lap and onto the floor. Anna's face was hot as a kettle, her expression a mix of flustered mortification and unwilling interest. It was a novel, in a way. It was just the kind that no proper lady had any business reading. The kind that curious schoolgirls giggled over in private, stolen from somewhere or other, the kind that—

Anna snatched up the book again and found the author's name. It was a woman's name, thankfully not containing any of the words: Charlotte, comtesse, or Artois. She searched frantically through the passage she'd just read. Oh, god. The speaker was clearly also female. The countess had followed through on her promise to provide guidance. Everything that Anna had wondered about when she thought of sex and Elsa and how it was supposed to be done between two women, all her questions lay in a torridly erotic novel an infamous courtesan had gifted her with.

Anna didn't know whether to cringe or immediately start reading again. If she started reading, she would need that dictionary because she'd spotted many, many unknown words that she was certain were not used in genteel circles and—her mind screeched to halt.

Elsa could read it.

A very loud 'no' resounded through her mind, followed by thoughts of Elsa's reaction to being presented with an obscene book—Elsa might just look at her like she was the one who needed a helpful boot off the North Mountain. Or worse, Elsa might just laugh and mock her endlessly. She would probably do it with that patently superior look down her nose and just wait for the avalanche of humiliation to crush Anna for her, too.

Anna was aware of the book still heavy in her hands and discovered that her palms were damp. Grimacing, Anna closed the book and gingerly set it back down. It looked so innocuous atop her dresser, and not at all like something that would send her soul straight to hell as some of the clergymen would have everyone believe. She could already feel heat creeping up her spine.

Anna swallowed, clutched the book back up—she certainly did not want a servant to come across it— and bolted for the library to find that French dictionary.

A/N: Thanks to somonastic and Rebecca Keys for their help beta-ing this chapter! Also, I forgot to credit Chibikrys for her help translating the French. Thanks!