This is the entirety of the first scene of AFA Ch. 20. Any errors are mine as this was not beta’d thoroughly (unless you count being one and a half years late long enough for me to get my shit together). I am sorry for the delay :<





“Yes, I think we’ve been very lucky.” Elsa’s smile was slight, but no less luminous.

“But it wasn’t luck,” Anna murmured. Their gazes met and held, a long moment passing as they simply studied each other. The expression in dark blue eyes eventually became quizzical, but Elsa seemed content to allow the pleasant silence to stretch.

So very pretty and beloved, that face, even if its owner sometimes tested her patience relentlessly like a determined cat. Anna could feel herself softening like chocolate held too long. Even the thought of Elsa annoying her with one of her patently ridiculous notions only elicited a spurt of deep affectionate fondness, though she was sure the sentiment was not going to be permanent.

But Elsa was all hers: gorgeous face, sharp tongue, aggravating tendencies. And the certainty of it warmed her down to her toes.

“How could it have been luck?” Anna leaned back on her heels and gave in to the urge to sigh happily. “I think your father knew that if he didn’t do something, you’d dither endlessly and never get anything done. He saved you a great deal of agony, if you think about it.”

“You make it sound like he did it out of exasperation on my behalf. Like I need to be…managed.” There was a twinge of affront, just enough to make Elsa’s lip curl.

Ah, that pride. Anna wanted to kiss it right off Elsa’s face, but she enjoyed teasing the queen almost as much as she did kissing, so Anna simply tucked her tongue firmly in cheek. “You don’t think so?”

“I fear I do not share this opinion with you,” Elsa replied, her eyes narrowing just the slightest at her.

“But I know you so well. I’d bet there would have been enough dithering and handwringing to have Arendelle grinding to a standstill. Really, we should be thankful for Uncle Alexander’s foresight.” This was accompanied with a very sage nod.

“My word, the cheek,” the queen murmured with a cocked brow and crossed arms. Her tone turned haughty as she drew herself up with impressive majesty, rather like a cross peacock. “I think you forget who you’re married to.”

The pointed tone made her lips twitch before Anna could catch herself. “Oh, but think of who I would have married if it hadn’t been for your father!” Anna gave a theatrical sweep of her arm, nearly backhanding Elsa in the chin as she did so. “I’d have twelve extra brothers and God only knows how many sisters to contend with! Could you imagine it?” Anna posed grandly.

Elsa’s eyes rolled in magnificent fashion. “Praise be that I had the good sense to be an only child if you cannot stand the idea of in-laws. Not only that, but I should be congratulated for keeping you off the marriage market for the well-being of all ignorant and overbred princes. Truly, my generosity knows no bounds even though you evidently credit the grace of my father for my sacrifice.” Elsa laid a hand upon her own chest, the vaguely offended expression on her face belying the wounded tone. “I thought I had earned your affections, but this is apparently not the case.”

“So you would have married me if he hadn’t arranged it? Charity case and all?” Anna asked with a hiked brow.

Elsa opened her mouth to give some pithy retort, then promptly shut it and looked away. “You know I’m not serious about that.” It was delivered so softly that Anna blinked at the abrupt change. “But you are right. I wouldn’t have married you on my own. And if we hadn’t married, you’d probably now be on some sunny island with…” Elsa deliberately trailed off with an exaggerated display of distaste.

“A well-mannered and handsome overbred prince,” Anna said with humor, entirely unoffended. “But he really was easy on the eyes.” As though this was a great loss to be mourned. It was such obvious bait that Elsa didn’t even bother responding—the queen simply sent another look that said very clearly what she thought of that. I am also quite good-looking, it suggested, and with enough confidence to make Anna grin with delight, utterly charmed.

“I had no idea you’d become so shallow,” Elsa said with wide eyes and feigned shock.

“How else could I tolerate you if not for my weakness for good looks?” Anna chortled, covering her mouth when Elsa’s eyes threatened to roll again. Of course, Elsa wouldn’t allow that to go unpunished. Anna tried to dodge her, but Elsa was faster, seizing Anna’s nose in a firm pinch. She made a noise caught somewhere between a snort and a hiccup, almost choking when she tried to inhale.

“Elsa!” But Anna was already laughing again as she swatted her hand away. She hadn’t gotten her nose pinched like that since she was a child. It was so easy for them to fall back to this lightness that it made her heart ache, especially when Elsa looked at her with such obvious affection.

“I also don’t remember you being so irredeemably impudent when you were younger,” Elsa mused, humor glinting in her eyes. “I’m not sure you ever needed me to save you from your ardent suitors.”

Elsa was right, of course—Anna hadn’t needed saving, but she was still glad that it was Elsa before her now. The thought of never knowing what they’d have lost had Elsa not chosen to renew their engagement drew a sharp pang of sorrow.

But Elsa was hers now, a fact that Anna was sure to relish for some time. And if love was going to make her soft and possibly a bit daft, she certainly wasn’t going to fight it. Anna leaned back on the desk and reached out to tug her wife closer. Elsa immediately complied, bending down to brush her lips against a temple as her arms encircled Anna’s shoulders. The princess exhaled, her forehead resting against Elsa’s shoulder, her hands clasped around a slim waist. They stood together and simply enjoyed the shared intimacy. There could be nothing more perfect, Anna thought, than this.

“You know, I don’t think Kristoff would have liked Hans,” Anna finally said.

“Oh?” Elsa sounded disinterested, but they both knew her attention was rapt. She even nuzzled Anna a bit, leaning her cheek against copper hair as though to encourage this line of thought. Anna had to suppress a giggle and decided to indulge her.

“Mhm. Well, I doubt Kristoff would have liked any of my suitors, but he’s not the one who has to get married,” Anna said with a flippant wave of her hand. “Someday he will, but he doesn’t get a say about who I’d get shackled to.”

“And I thought you were eager to get married and leave the nest,” Elsa mused. They parted when the clock in the corner tolled the hour. Anna slid her hand under Elsa’s elbow and they walked together to the Queen’s chambers before she answered. “I was, but the people I met at balls were…not really what I expected.” Anna paused again. “I did wonder if I’d have liked them better if you were there,” she admitted.

Elsa swiveled her head, surprised. “You did?”

“Sometimes. We’ve never attended a ball together, you know. I wasn’t old enough to go the last time I was in Arendelle.”

“I’m sorry,” Elsa said after a moment, the regret evident in her voice. “Though if I’d been present, you wouldn’t have had the opportunity to socialize. I’d probably monopolize you.”

Anna chuckled. “I’d trade all the dances and suitors for you, definitely.”

Elsa looked startled, but pleased. “I wish I could have been there with you. And if we are going to reflect on all the things we’ve missed, I doubt I’d have been much fun at balls. My…reputation and the fact that my father was usually present did not make make for many brave conversationalists. I was certainly not the life of a party like you were.”

It was Anna’s turn to be surprised. “How did you—?” Then she realized that she already knew the answer.

“Calhoun,” Elsa confirmed. “Since he was already going about the whole suitors business, he listened to the rumors about you as well.”

Calhoun was also a reminder of the blackmail material that still lay in Elsa’s study, and brought back the uneasy feeling associated with it. Elsa seemed to sense it and explained, “Calhoun didn’t spy on you if that’s what you’re concerned about. I made sure he wouldn’t, once I knew what he was about. He just… “ Elsa’s sigh was pure exasperation. “He has an ear for that sort of thing. Being in the right place at the right time, as he likes to say. I think he did it to prod me along about our engagement since I was doing my best to not think about it then.”

“I see,” was all Anna could say, distracted by the reminder of blackmail in Elsa’s study.

“I’m sorry,” Elsa said, mistaking the cause for Anna’s ambivalence. “I would never have allowed him to in the first place, and I did threaten to lend some truth to those rumors about freezing my enemies to dump into the fjord if he continued.”

“No, I’m not angry about that, Elsa,” Anna sighed, deciding that she was going to get rid of the blackmail at the next opportunity. Elsa had given it to her to do as she pleased, and it would certainly please her to dispose of it. And perhaps she ought to have a talk with Calhoun about his more disreputable habits. “You didn’t want to hear about my gossip?” Anna asked, interrupting the next wave of apologies.

Elsa stared at her. “I—well, I suppose, I wouldn’t oppo—wait, what?”

“Oh, come on, Elsa. Don’t tell me you didn’t want to know what I was doing in Corona. Everybody likes to hear about gossip about everybody else.”

Elsa attempted to look aloof. “I would never,” she said unconvincingly.

“You liar,” Anna cheerfully accused. “Don’t pretend you’re above it.”

“I most certainly did not seek out gossip! And besides, the vast majority of gossip isn’t even true. That’s why it’s gossip in the first place.”

“How would you know if you don’t hear it?” Anna asked, grinning when Elsa huffed in response. “So what gossip did you hear from Calhoun?”

Elsa seemed poised to deny her even that until she gave in with a defeated sigh. “The typical things you hear about a popular debutante, I suppose. Very pretty, dances well, laughs at the right things. An easy manner. Spends a questionable amount of time with a certain Southern Isles prince.”

“That is surprisingly accurate,” Anna said after a moment of consideration. “I also sound really boring.”

Elsa smiled in sympathy. “Would you have preferred the salacious kind of gossip?”

“My parents would never have let happen, but that would have been exciting,” Anna sighed wistfully.

“I’m sure you were the source of envy all the same,” Elsa reassured.

“Hardly,” Anna scoffed. “I never got any grand gestures, or had awful poetry written about me. I got along well with most people, but I hardly want to be known for just…dancing well, and being easy-going.”

Elsa slid her eyes over and took in Anna’s disappointment. “Well, if it’s poetry you want, I may be able to oblige you,” she graciously offered.

Anna grinned up at her, instantly gleeful. “Will it be atrocious?”

“Oh, almost certainly. I have always longed to compare your eyes to the stars, your lips to roses, your teeth to pearls—”

“Oh, no!” Anna shushed, giggling too much to stop Elsa.

“—and your eyelashes to…to…” Elsa’s brow furrowed in concentration.

“To?” Anna prompted as they arrived to their bedchamber.

“I cannot conjure anything suitably appalling to compare eyelashes to,” the queen confessed as she held the door open. “Forgive me.”

“And I thought you were well-read,” Anna sniffed as she fluttered the neglected eyelashes. She flounced into the bedchamber, nose sailing high as a ship’s prow. “Is it so much to ask for a few poorly assembled verses?”

“A personal failing that I regret daily,” Elsa murmured, turning to close the door after them and failed to notice Anna stopping short. The room was swathed in a soft darkness, illuminated only by the small flames flickering in the fireplace.

“Odd, it’s not so late that the fire would have burned so low already,” Elsa remarked. “Are you cold? I’ll build the fire if you are.”

Anna didn’t answer. Elsa glanced at her curiously, then at the bed, and stiffened. It was an agonizingly long time before she could summon words.

“Well,” Elsa began, her voice unusually high. She cleared her throat, reaching for dignity. “I didn’t—I didn’t tell the servants to—”

Anna had to turn her head away, a raised hand smothering a laugh. “Could you repeat yourself, Elsa? I’m not sure I caught that.”

“I didn’t do it!” Elsa expelled, the denial rushed and a tad louder than necessary. “I swear it!”

“Oh?” Anna said as benignly as she could manage. “It’s just coincidental that you confess your feelings to me not an hour ago and our marriage bed now happens to be covered with…rose petals?” Her voice cracked with mirth on the last word.

Elsa shut her eyes and pressed a hand to her own face. “Anna, do you really believe I’d do something so trite?”

“I don’t think it’s beneath you, if you could somehow justify it in your mind.” Anna went to the bed and plucked a petal up to brush it over her lips. She tossed a coy glance over her shoulder, her mouth curving into a smirk. “You’re guilty of far worse, you know. I also find it suspicious that you did just compare my lips to roses. Are you sure this wasn’t orchestrated for my benefit?”

Color flooded pale cheeks. “That was entirely unrelated, Anna, I can assure you.” Elsa folded her arms and glared at an imaginary speck on the wall and at anything else but Anna, her back ramrod straight. Anna’s smile softened.

Elsa looked remarkably young at that moment, especially when she was trying to not look mortified. It made her want to simultaneously coax the embarrassment away, as well as wonder again just how Elsa would have gone about courting her like a real suitor if she’d ever worked up the nerve for it. That was certainly a thought Anna could entertain herself more with later. She decided to be merciful. “The petals are still fresh. It’s a nice gesture, don’t you think?”

“It’s not meant to be nice. It’s a heavy-handed reminder of my royal duty,” Elsa replied, casting her eyes heavenward. “I shall take it as a hint to do some reminding of my own to Gerda about her place in this household.”

“You do need some prodding on occasion, but I think this was meant to be enjoyed, not resented.” Anna turned and settled on the edge of the bed, spreading her hands to scatter the petals over her dress. “Come here,” she commanded softly.

Up went the brows as interest glimmered just below in blue eyes. “May I inquire for what purpose, Your Highness?”

“Your royal duty, obviously. Come along now.” Anna even patted her knee expectantly.

As Elsa approached the bed, Anna tipped her head back. “Kiss me,” she whispered.

The corner of her mouth tilted. Elsa looked wonderfully playful as she considered the order. “Must I?” She asked, adopting a beleaguered tone.

Anna nodded solemnly. “You must. I am your wife and I command it.”

Elsa seemed to seriously ponder this. “Surely there are other options that may please Your Highness,” she finally said, her eyes limpid as a fresh spring pool.

Anna arced an imperious brow, a gesture she’d learned to fend off overly forward suitors. “Thoughts of insubordination are just as deadly as the act,” she declared. It was something Kristoff’s army friends used to mockingly say when they were well into their cups, originating from a particularly disliked commander.

The corners of Elsa’s lips trembled before she could smooth them into a more earnest line. “I wouldn’t ever dare stoop to that, Your Highness. If I may offer another solution?”

Anna pouted. “Is a kiss so much to ask?” She’d meant to say that in the way spoiled nobility responded when a request was being refused—a dash of incredulity with a very healthy dollop of entitlement—but it came out a bit plaintive and faintly wounded for she did actually want a kiss.

And that did it. Elsa’s face softened in a way that suddenly struck Anna as deeply familiar—how had she never noticed that Elsa had always looked at her that way?—before Elsa had bent down and cupped her cheek to oblige, silvery locks falling in a graceful curtain around them.

It began as a light brush of lips, almost tentative in careful exploration, until Anna lifted her chin up to deepen it, smoothing her hands up Elsa’s sides to the bottom of her ribcage. She reveled in the answering sharp intake of breath and, feeling particularly adventurous, lightly scraped her fingernails along the outline of ribs through cloth. Elsa shook and dropped her forehead to rest against Anna’s, their noses brushing, and her lips parted in a pant.

Warm breath ghosted over Anna’s lips like a delicious caress that she had to bite her lip to contain a moan.

“Anna…” Elsa whispered, her eyes squeezed shut. “I don’t know how you do this to me. I’ve never…I’ve never wanted anyone as I do you.”

It was wholly gratifying hearing that said out loud. It lit a fire in her belly and boldness in her movements as a smile bloomed on her lips. Anna grazed her mouth along Elsa’s jaw line and said in a remarkably steady voice, “Well, that means that you are also shallow, falling for my excellent looks like that.”

It took a moment for her to react, but it had Elsa leaning back with a surprised laugh. “I suppose we are perfectly suited in our material preferences,” she remarked, her eyes twinkling. “You are…” Elsa trailed off, her voice and features becoming tender. “I do think you are very beautiful, you know.”

There was that happiness again, so intense that Anna felt almost stupid with it. She was even blushing a bit, as though she’d just been paid her first compliment at her debut ball.

“Do tell.” Anna felt absurdly shy, even lifting a hand to tuck copper hair back behind her ear to conceal it. “A girl could always use more flattery, even with your limited supply of poor poetry. Care to try again about the eyelashes?”

Elsa didn’t say anything at first. She simply gazed at Anna until her eyes lowered. For several exciting heartbeats, Anna thought she was staring at her bosom until she realized Elsa was actually looking at her lap, which was even more thrilling.

“Do you actually like the flower petals?” Elsa suddenly asked.

Anna blinked. “I—what?” She looked down. She’d forgotten about the petals that she’d strewn over herself, engrossed as she’d been in kisses.

“The flower petals. Do you like them?” Elsa looked quite serious.

Too confused to ponder the question, Anna answered truthfully. “I think it’s sweet, but maybe a little too much.” Suspicion struck. “Wait, why? Did you actually have flower petals brought in?”

“No, of course not. I just… wondered. At your mood, that is. I thought, perhaps…” There was no finish to that sentence, but Anna knew. She patted Elsa’s hip as though she was a well-behaved mare.

“I’d probably like it better when I was younger,” she confided.

“Because you are now older and far too wise to indulge in such things,” Elsa retorted, but she smiled back.

Anna chuckled. “It’s romantic and I do appreciate it. Don’t say that you don’t enjoy it, just a little.”

“I’d prefer it if my staff didn’t involve themselves in our business. And I find it more cheeky than romantic.” She glanced away, her cheeks flushing very slightly. “Gerda had originally planned to do something like this, you know. Flower petals for our wedding night. I told her no.”

“Because you’d already planned on banishing me to the queen’s quarters?” Anna said mildly, only half-joking.

Elsa whipped her head back with a ready denial, her eyes wide. “No! I never planned that, truly. I didn’t think you’d want—well, I had no idea what you’d want, but I wanted to be prepared in case you found such a thing in…poor taste.”

“Trite?”

“More like presumptuous. Implying some level of expectation about what was…supposed to happen,” Elsa muttered, coloring faintly.

The imperious brow returned. “You are the queen of Arendelle. Isn’t it your God-given right to be the most presumptuous person in the kingdom?” The sarcasm was layered thick enough to choke an ox. Elsa scowled and extricated herself to cross her arms in what Anna recognized as the beginnings of a sulk.

“Perhaps I really should have entirely disregarded your feelings on the matter,” she declared.

“Not as though that’d have been difficult as you never set eyes on my face until our wedding day anyway.” Anna flicked a petal off her arm. It floated through the air like a particularly lazy bumblebee before it attached itself to the front of Elsa’s dress.

They stared at it mutely for a moment.

Elsa made a face. “You are a child.”

Anna grinned and flicked another petal at her. “And you should learn to have fun. All fun and no play—”



“I’m going to go change,” Elsa declared. She brushed the petals off and, in a fit of devilry, seized a handful and tossed them on Anna’s head. Turning on her heel, she fled with Anna’s rich laughter echoing in her wake, humor of her own bubbling at the back of her throat.