A/N: A little birdie whispered something in my ear.

Prompt: Adore

“I adore you.”

The words were out before Anna had a chance to comprehend what she said. Elsa looked up from her book, one eyebrow arched high. A flush rose to Anna’s cheeks and she ducked her head back into her own book; so very, very grateful for the dim lighting in the study.

Elsa blinked. “Okay?” She tilted her head and smiled shyly. “I adore you too Anna.”

And therein lay the source of her problem.

Anna puffed up her cheeks. She’d been trying the same thing for weeks now. At first, the sensible thing had been to say, “I love you.” Which would have worked out for most people, but since it was something she told Elsa daily, the result hadn’t actually been what she wanted. Oh sure, Elsa had brightened like the aurora borealis, kissed her cheek, and said, “I love you too,” but Anna had gotten the distinct feeling she hadn’t meant it in the way Anna had.

After that she had tried flowers and chocolate. Which she heard and read were completely romantic, except Elsa apparently didn’t care for flowers. She loved the chocolate though.

So Anna had bought jewelry. A load of good it did when she was presenting it to the Queen of Arendelle and Elsa already had a box full of ornate and colorful accessories.

Anna had then opted to write a poem. A very, very long poem that neither rhymed nor sounded romantic. She’d never been good at poetry. Metaphors weren’t her forte. Still, Elsa had hugged and kissed her forehead for the effort so it hadn’t been a complete failure.

Discounting the fact that Elsa still didn’t know she loved her. Well, she did. But still!

Anna groaned and buried her face in her knees. She felt like one of those silly boys in her stories, trying to get the girl she liked to understand she didn’t just mean it platonically when she said, “I love you.”

Then again, most of those people aren’t related to the girl they like.

Anna pursed her lips and scowled at her dress. A year of wrestling with her own feelings and she had stumbled into another obstacle soon after. Why was love so difficult?

“Anna?”

Anna snapped her head up to see Elsa staring at her worriedly.

“Are you alright?”

The princess let out a strained laugh. “Why do you ask?”

Her older sister frowned. “You’ve been acting oddly tonight.” She eyed the book in Anna’s lap. “You haven’t read a single page in the last hour and you were muttering to yourself.”

Anna felt her palms begin to sweat. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, stammering, “I’ve just had a lot of stuff on my mind lately.”

Elsa’s frown deepened. She reached over and clasped Anna’s hand. Her palm was cool and soft. “Is it something I can help with?”

Anna opened her mouth, ready to say that yes, yes it was something her sister could help with. But in light of the fire, she stared into Elsa’s confused eyes and felt a wave of exhaustion hit her. The princess sighed and her shoulders drooped.

“Actually, I think I’ll just sleep on it tonight.” She got up and stretched, back muscles popping. The heavy weight over her eyelids was suddenly tenfold. She was tempted to curl up next to Elsa and just sleep in the study, but her bed was much comfier than the chesterfield couch.

The worry on Elsa’s face remained. “Are you sure?”

“As sure as love is,” Anna said. She padded the few steps to her sister and leaned down. “Kiss goodnight?”

Elsa brightened and titled her head to meet her. And later, Anna would blame how dead-tired she was for her mistake.

“I adore you,” she said as they closed the last few inches.

“I adore you too,” Elsa whispered, brushing her lips over Anna.

Anna hummed in satisfaction before exiting the study with a yawn.

- - -

Elsa watched the door close with a mixture of curiosity and concern. Maybe it was all the studies and council meetings taking their toll on Anna, causing her mind to wander off and making her mumble to herself. Elsa had a habit of doing that too when she was tired.

Never about romantic proposals or misunderstandings, but love stories and adventures tales were more up Anna’s alley than hers. So her younger sister could be forgiven for her wayward mind.

Besides if it was truly bothersome, Anna would tell her on her own time. Elsa shrugged to herself and returned to her book. She only had a few more pages left. As she flipped the page, a thought nagged at her.

Where does Anna come up with all these ways to tell me she loves me?

Perhaps those romance books her sister loved had something to them after all.