Got bored. I should take a nap before the all-night event at my college, but…Elsanna is calling. Servant playmate AU, Shakespeare helps Anna out with her “I’m in love with Elsa” problem.

“Past cure I am, now reason is past care,” Anna lamented, throwing an arm over her eyes. “And frantic-mad with evermore unrest; My thoughts and my discourse as madmen’s are…”



A moment of silence.

She couldn’t help it–she giggled, lowering her arm to assess Shakespeare’s reaction. The man looked hopelessly giddy, broad grin on his lips as he hopped excitedly in place. The ridiculous sight combined with her ridiculous recitation just now made her laugh fully.

“There’s no way I’m gonna win Elsa over with that! It’s so dramatic!”

Shakespeare immediately stopped hopping, a frown replacing his grin. “And what’s wrong with being dramatic? As I understand it, your love quite literally changed the seasons.” He crossed his arms, almost pouting as he continued, “I doubt you’ll find a more dramatic display of love than that.”

Anna shook her head, smiling at her Servant. “Despite what you may believe, I still have reason. Being mad doesn’t apply to me.”

“Everyone who has felt Love’s touch is mad, my star,” Shakespeare countered, his grin returning. “I should know. I am far more suitable as a love expert than those trolls in the valley.”



“Careful now. Wouldn’t want to upset Kristoff with that declaration,” Anna warned. Nevermind that people who are in love in your works tend not to live by the end…



“Ah, but ‘tis true!” her Servant declared, uncrossing his arms to place a hand over his heart, other hand held in the air as he closed his eyes. “Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar…But never doubt I love.”



“Dramatic as ever, William,” Anna sighed, leaning back into the settee again.



“Do you want my help or not?” Shakespeare asked, opening his eyes to arch an eyebrow as he placed his hands on his hips. “I’ve written extensively on the subject of love–to refuse my assistance is to–”



“I need something simple. I don’t want to scare her off,” the princess mumbled, fiddling with the end of one of her braids. “Maybe…Maybe when we’re a bit further along, sure, but…”



He stepped closer, bending down on one knee so he could take her hand. Anna stared at him quizzically, though the intensity in his gaze soon tipped her off, and she rolled her eyes.

He was “in the zone” right now, so to speak. Typical William.

“I love thee,” the playwright softly declared, “I love thee with a love that shall not die. Till the sun grows cold and the stars grow old.”



A beat.

“That is as simple as I am willing to go.”



Anna couldn’t help but giggle at that, Shakespeare smiling along with her. “I’ll keep it in mind. It’s…simple enough.”

“Excellent!” he exclaimed, standing up and tugging her along after him. “As long as you remember what I’ve taught you, Elsa will be yours soon enough!”



“Unless this ends like one of your plays…” Anna muttered under her breath as he gleefully led her out of the gallery.



“Hmmm…I admit, I wouldn’t be opposed–”



“William!”



Anna wasn’t ready after all.

I take it back. I’m not ready. I don’t know what to do now, she thought, heart pounding wildly at the bars of its prison in her chest as those glacial eyes continued to stare at her. This isn’t anything like in the books.

“You say that you love the sun,” she began, falling back on her Servant’s modus operandi for lack of anything else, “but you find a shadow spot when the sun shines. You say that you love the wind, but you close your windows when wind blows.”



She paused, swallowing the hard lump in her throat.

“That is why I am afraid… You say that you love me, too.”



Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs. She could almost hear Shakespeare’s voice now. For so long, she had hopelessly pined after her own sister, after Elsa. And now, to suddenly–



“But I don’t love the sun or the wind as much as you,” Elsa’s soft voice pierced through her frantic thoughts, “You don’t have to be afraid, Anna. I won’t…shut the door.”



The unspoken words hung heavily between them.

Not anymore.

Shakespeare smiled as he watched them take their first bumbling steps as lovers. Anna had almost missed, of course, due to her eagerness. It took a couple more tries before they finally got it right, giggling after they parted.

Satisfied, the Servant immediately phased out of the room to give them privacy, materializing in the hallway outside. The portly manservant, Kai, happened to be heading his way, and when he looked up, Shakespeare merely held a finger to his lips, smirking as he silently conveyed that the queen was not to be disturbed.

Kai was a sharp man despite his figure. Surely he, like many others in Arendelle, had seen the signs as well. Heard the old stories of True Love and curses.

For love is an open door, the playwright thought as he walked away with a flourish of his cape, and it matters not what kind of door it is so long as happiness awaits on the other side.