Elsa laid the draft back down on her desk. Seeing her father's unfinished work had been more affecting than she had anticipated—there were pages of it, all littered with margin notes that she would need to pore over, but not tonight.

She was spent from dealing with the twin thorns of duke and countess, and was in no condition to work more. As irritating as the duke and countess were, their meddling was also constructive, in a way; they had cleared her eyes to the real enemy. Elsa knew who her opponent was now—it'd never been Anna. This game she knew how to play. Her father had raised her for exactly this kind of game, and she needed to scramble her pieces into position quickly; she'd dawdled far too much the past few days. Even if she had not been able to read much of the draft before she had to stop again, she had seen enough to know what her next step should be. She would call upon each member of the Royal Council, and she already knew who she needed to see first.

After writing a note for Kai and calling a servant to deliver it, Elsa left the study for her room. Gerda met her along the way, offering such a warm smile that Elsa stopped short with a frown.

"Are you all right?" Elsa asked.

"Of course, dear," Gerda replied, her face beatific as a saint's. "Are you looking for the princess? She's in your bedroom. I hope your living arrangements are permanent now. You seem to sleep in a different room every night."

Suspicion prickled—her housekeeper looked entirely too pleased with herself, which was always a cause for concern. "I think I've settled down into one room, yes. You won't have to worry about me wandering about in the middle of the night anymore."

"You do have the princess to keep you warm at night," Gerda replied with a wicked gleam in her eye.

Elsa affixed her best glower and refused to blush. "Gerda, I do not pay you wages to keep tabs on my sleeping habits." She knew it wouldn't cow her housekeeper, who seemed to forget their stations with alarming frequency, but Elsa still hoped for it like a fervent childhood wish. It would be just as likely as pigs soaring through the skies, or Anna would deciding horses were better attached to carriages and plows, but even queens had to indulge themselves with fantasy on occasion.

"Only sleeping, now? What does the princess think of this arrangement?"

Her glower narrowed into a glare. "Nor to speculate or comment on how my evenings are spent!"

"I'll not keep you, then. I do have dinner preparations to see to. Your wife should be in your bedroom, if you're looking for her," Gerda said again, as though Elsa were a particularly slow child that required repeated direction. Elsa scowled as she marched away from her smug housekeeper.

Why, Elsa wondered as she threw open the door to the Queen's chambers, was everybody so concerned about what she and Anna did? It was nobody's business but their own. If she decided the entire kingdom should be privy to the goings-on of their bedroom—or lack of it—then she would commission a new standard for the flag tower to better broadcast their private business. Elsa nearly kicked the door shut in a fit of pique. She could already imagine the colors they'd choose: white for purity, red for sin, and then the townspeople could enjoy a good titter at their queen's expense, just as Gerda undoubtedly had. She existed to serve, didn't she? What was she if not a fount of entertainment?

Elsa pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. If Anna could hear her thoughts…

"Anna?" Elsa called, sounding cross even to her own ears. If Anna was exploring the rest of the apartments, then Elsa would have no hope of seeing her before dinner. As Elsa strode in to search Anna's wardrobe, she saw twine and wrapping paper left on a dresser. Anna had received a package of some kind.

A dire warning wafted up in the back of her mind, that had Elsa's hackles rising—the countess had mentioned something about redirecting letters to Anna, but so soon? She had to stifle the immediate urge to go tearing through the castle for Anna, and breathed in and out instead. Whatever it was, it was probably harmless; if it wasn't, then she would deal with it later. In an appropriate and moderate manner.

She might be high-strung, but she was self-aware enough to attempt to correct the behavior. Elsa took another deep, calming breath, then called a maid to draw a bath.

When Anna finally emerged from the library, her face scorched every variety of red, she knew it hadn't been wise to try to read the book before dinner, especially since her parents would be in attendance. How on earth was she going to pay any attention to her family when she was busy pondering the logistics of sex against a wall? And that was only the least of her worries—she didn't think her face would ever cool again. Fortune was on her side as she did not encounter anyone along the way back to her shared bedroom, and hoped a bath would bring her color down.

After ringing for a maid, Anna had begun to undo her plaits when she saw the forgotten wrapping paper left on the dresser. She grimaced and made a note to have the maid dispose of it. If Elsa found it, she hadn't the faintest notion how she would explain it. She could just imagine how well that conversation would go, especially if Elsa knew who it was from—

"Anna?"

Her good luck had evidently run out. Anna could feel the blood drain out of her face, which had to be the most disconcerting feeling ever. Everything froze, including her brain; the only coherent thought that formed was, ludicrously, that her blushing problem was taken care of now.

"Anna, is that you?" Elsa called again, emerging from the closet in nothing but a silk white chemise that ended mid-thigh. "Where have you been? Gerda said you were here earlier."

Anna, very carefully, did not look at her dresser. She gave Elsa a genial smile and attempted to school her features into innocent surprise. "Oh, I was in the—the library." She had meant to sound nonchalant, but her voice had come out reed-thin and unconvincing.

"The library?" Elsa looked amused. "You don't even like the library. Dark and drafty, remember? What were you up to?"

Translating an erotic novel and regretting her indifference to French lessons. While she pondered an answer that would not sink her dignity, Anna gathered enough of her wits to notice just how revealing Elsa's chemise was. Her legs were long and slender, feet sinking into the thick rug. Elsa's bare shoulders and arms were a bit on the thinner side, but just as appealing as the rest of her. The chemise wasn't very form-fitting, but Anna could make out the curve of Elsa's hip tapering up into her waist through the sheer material. Further up, the silk clung to cleavage in a way that demanded visual appreciation; Anna obliged.

"Well?" Elsa asked, oblivious to Anna's scrutiny.

Well, I think you're ridiculously pretty, was the first thing that came to mind. Elsa was all slim lines and grace, like a delicate filly; the fact that Elsa was so unaware of it only made Anna want to admire her form even more.

"Reading. You know, since it's a library," Anna hedged. Privately, she was very grateful for the foresight to hide the French book in the library. God only knew how she would explain its existence if she had it with her.

Elsa frowned, but she grinned after a moment. "Well, I hope you learned something, then. Since it is a library, a place of learning and deep thought. One knows how much a princess values learning and deep thought."

Anna squirmed at the teasing poke, torn between creeping mortification and replying with something that would prompt more gentle mockery. "I like to read," she said defensively.

Elsa laughed and motioned for Anna to follow. "I never meant to imply otherwise. You need to take a bath now if you don't want to be late for dinner. I've already taken mine."

"I had forgotten that there's a bathroom in these apartments," Elsa commented once hot water had been delivered. She gestured for Anna to turn and began to untie her dress stays. "The King's chambers don't. Well, I'm sure one of the rooms could be repurposed for that, but my parents didn't use those rooms. My mother preferred these."

"So that's why your bedroom was so barren." Anna should have felt a little more agitated than she was that Elsa was undressing her, but Elsa's voice and manner was so calm, almost demure, that Anna found herself lulled into an equally placid state.

"Yes, it wasn't in use for years before I moved. Most of the furnishings in the Queen's chambers were my mother's. If you want to redecorate, you're free to." The bodice loosened and fell, bunching around Anna's waist. Anna stepped out of the dress with her petticoat and blouse still remaining.

Elsa brushed a lock of copper between her fingers when Anna faced her. "We have some time, but… do you want me to wash your hair?"

Anna's eyes widened. Elsa looked hesitant and avoided Anna's gaze, her own eyes aimed down at the soft curl looped about her fingers.

"I used to do that for you. You probably don't remember, but when you were about four years old, you went through an episode where you had to be coaxed into taking baths—partly Kristoff's doing, no doubt. Something about boys being allergic to baths and not needing them. I had to convince you to take one sometimes. You seemed to like it when I washed your hair, when you weren't trying to splash water at me to freeze."

"Did I really?"

"You doubt that you were a rambunctious and an occasionally difficult child?"

Anna laughed and conceded defeat. "All right, I believe you." She started to unbutton her blouse while Elsa turned away to examine the jars of bath salts and soaps neatly lined on a side table.

"Have you been using these?" Elsa asked, picking one up to examine the contents. She kept her back to Anna, and tried not to swallow as she heard buttons being undone. The room was still warm and humid from her last bath, the candles casting the walls into a dusky light.

"No, not yet." Anna hesitated on the last button, her eyes on Elsa's back. Ignoring her jangling nerves, she pulled the button free.

"My mother used to like long baths," Elsa said, acutely aware of even the briefest silence. "Gerda always kept all kinds of exotic soaps and bath oils stocked for her. Some of these look new, though. Perhaps we should try—that is, you should try some of these," Elsa babbled, heat scoring her skin at the rustle of discarded clothes behind her. Anna was naked, or very close to it, Elsa thought in a half-daze. She was going to see Anna naked, and wash her hair, and probably get struck by lightning for all the impure thoughts that were parading through her mind.

"Perhaps I should wait outside," Elsa croaked, already lurching for the door. "Just tell me—" She caught a flash of Anna in nothing but an unbuttoned blouse bending over the tub to dip her hand into the water. Her legs were even more glorious out of riding breeches, and the blouse hem denied Elsa the opportunity to worship her wife's form any further than the top of her thighs.

"Anna!" Elsa yelped, immediately whipping her eyes the opposite direction. Her face was utterly scalded, hands fisted at her sides. "You could have at least waited for me to leave the room."

"Prude," Anna said, a laugh lurking behind the gentle insult. "It's not like you've never seen a naked woman before."

"I've never seen anyone else naked before," Elsa snapped. She attempted to chill her hands and press them to her burning cheeks, but she was too distracted to manage even that simple act, her palms clammy and useless.

Anna glanced at Elsa and had to swallow another laugh. Elsa's embarrassment was palpable and it helped to vanquish her own anxiety. Anna shucked the blouse, stepped into the tub, and, in a fit of mischief, balled it up in her fist. "Elsa, it's safe now."

The moment the queen turned, Anna pelted it at Elsa's head. Her aim was true, as it always was. Elsa made an undignified noise as the shirt enveloped her face; she wheeled backward, her arms windmilling, while Anna's laughter rang like a taunt.

"Anna!" Elsa growled, tearing the shirt off her face before she realized what sight would greet her. What she found was Anna safely submerged to her chin in the tub and still chortling gleefully.

"Are you five?" Elsa demanded, brandishing the shirt like a mauled boot to a puppy.

"You're going to wash my hair like I am. I thought I should get into character." She squealed and huddled in the far corner of the tub when Elsa rounded on her. "Elsa, you wouldn't dare!" Anna yelped, correctly reading the intent written on the queen's face.

"I wouldn't?" Elsa's voice was incredulous. "Why would that be? I am the queen. I'm well within my rights to exact punishment for your assault on me. Again."

Anna was torn between more laughter and morbid curiosity. "Because you're obviously the only mature one between the two of us?" Anna tried. "And—and you're above petty retaliation!" Anna threw in, inspired.

"Appealing to my higher nature?" Tossing the shirt on the table, Elsa pulled up a stool to the tub and sat. Anna watched her warily. "Come now," Elsa said mildly, eyebrows lifted. "You just said I wouldn't dare."

"I don't trust you."

"That's unfortunate," Elsa commented, looking far too forgiving for someone who'd just gotten pelted in the face, and beckoned. "We do have dinner to attend. Let's not dwaddle because you doubt my mercy."

Cautiously, Anna slid to end of the tub closest to Elsa. Elsa's face was still blandly innocent, though her mouth did twitch at Anna's reluctance.

"You're not going to make a snowball and smash it into my hair or the back of my neck, are you?" Anna asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"I'm above petty retaliation," Elsa repeated. While Elsa examined a jar of some concoction, Anna decided to give her the benefit of the doubt.

"You don't need to wash very thoroughly," Anna said. "My hair isn't as thick as yours, but—" A hand pressed down on the crown of her head and gave a mighty shove. Anna gave an squawk of betrayal, but only a gurgle emerged as her mouth filled with water. Elsa held her under for no more than a few seconds, but it was enough to make Anna thrash out of pure indignation.

"Elsa!" Anna shrieked the instant her head cleared. She sputtered and squinted burning eyes; her ears were clogged, but Elsa's laugh was unmistakable. Anna smacked her hand into water to splash the queen, who neatly dodged it. "You said you were above that and I believed you!"

"What did you expect, Anna? For me to roll belly up if you asked nicely enough?" Elsa snorted. "I may go along with most of your ideas, but certainly not all of them."

Anna flicked water at her, which only made Elsa laugh again. "Gloating isn't nice, deserved or not," Anna muttered, swiping wet hair back.

The scales righted now, Elsa poured soap onto her hands and motioned for Anna to turn, rolling her eyes when Anna glared. "Don't worry, my appetite for vengeance has been sated."

"Thank you," Elsa said, much more softly, her hands lathering the soap into Anna's hair.

Anna gave a wordless nod—the playfulness had broken the tension, just as Anna had hoped it would. A comfortable silence settled between them, interrupted by only the soft sound of hair being scrubbed.

"Anna, did the countess send you something?"

Anna couldn't help it—she stiffened enough that Elsa stopped. "Anna? What's wrong?"

"She did," Anna admitted while her thoughts raced. "How did you know?"

"I saw wrapping paper on your dresser. What was it?"

"Um. She sent a book." Anna fidgeted. "It was a French book."

"What kind of book?" Elsa asked, wondering at Anna's reluctance.

"It's a—I think it's a romance novel." Anna's voice sounded strangled even to herself. She could feel Elsa wanting to ask more questions, and quickly added, "That's why I was in the library. It's in French and you know I'm not fluent in it like you are, so I was trying to read it." She had certainly read enough to know 'romance novel' was putting it very loosely.

"I see," Elsa said, sounding doubtful. A romance novel? Her nose wrinkled; she wanted to ask more about it, but if Anna was embarrassed, she wouldn't press. "If you'd like assistance reading it, you can always ask, you know. I'd be more than happy to help."

Anna blushed to her roots—'help' was taking on all kinds of meanings in her mind, none appropriate—and was glad that Elsa couldn't see it.

"M-maybe," she managed, wanting to sink through the tub and into the floor. She knew she would have to tell Elsa at some point, but she only had to imagine the embarrassment that event would elicit to make her push it to another day. She reminded herself that now was hardly a good time either—Elsa might just dunk her head again on principle if she knew what was really in that book.

"Will you really be all right with your parents leaving?" Elsa suddenly asked.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

She felt Elsa's brief shrug. "I don't know. It's just—you may not be able to visit them as often as you'd like. You've always been close to your family and I don't think you've ever been apart from them for very long. I thought… perhaps their impending departure might be more affecting than you were letting on."

Anna gave a small shake of her head and smiled, even though Elsa couldn't see it. "I'll be fine, Elsa. I've always known I'd have to leave Corona one day. I'll see them again soon. Well, I'll see my parents soon. Kristoff—" She immediately shut her mouth while another silence, more tense, stretched.

"I miss him, too," Elsa said, her voice as gentle as her hands.

Unexpected tears prickled at the back of her eyes, to Anna's embarrassment. How strange, she thought in disbelief. She had not cried in years and it'd only taken an oblique slip of her brother's name to send her back.

She pressed fingertips into her eyes, her breath shuddering out. The words clustered at the back of her throat, wanting to be heard. Her parents never wanted to talk about Kristoff, and she'd never felt close enough to any ladies in Corona to speak of private family matters. "Elsa, he's been gone for nearly three years. I'm afraid—I'm afraid he won't ever come home," Anna whispered.

"He will," Elsa said firmly. "Kristoff knows that Corona is his duty. Nothing means more to him than family."

"He was only supposed to be gone for a year, maybe a year and half. That was all Papa would allow him. He sends letters, he makes promises, but he—" Anna's breath hitched. "He said he'd be here for the wedding. He promised months ago, but he didn't come."

Elsa squeezed Anna's shoulder gently instead, her voice quiet. "I'm sorry. We don't have to speak of it if you don't want to. I hadn't meant to bring him up."

Anna shook her head. "No, I think maybe I should. Talk about him, I mean. Nobody does, not even my parents. And if he does get brought up, everybody says it's when he comes home, but how can anyone know for sure? How long does it need to be before that 'when' turns into an 'if?' All we really know is what he writes in his letters, we don't know what he's actually thinking, what he feels—"

"Anna," Elsa interrupted. Anna covered her mouth, trying to breathe in deeply to quell the rising panic.

Elsa moved the stool alongside the tub to face Anna. She could see the helplessness and pain on Anna's face, and suffered her own helplessness for not knowing the right things to say when Anna needed her.

"I'm sure Kristoff has his reasons for staying away," Elsa said, though she did wonder what they were if promises were being broken. She hadn't been nearly as close to Kristoff as she had been with his sister, but she remembered the shared camaraderie between the two heir apparents; they'd both known what was waiting for them when the time came. For them, promises were not idly given.

"I wish I could go find him," Anna whispered. "I wish Papa would let me go find him and bring him home."

"That's more like you, to go after the things you want. Not surprising that your father wouldn't have let you, though. The places Kristoff have gone to don't make it easy to track down someone who doesn't want to be found, does it? I recall rumors that he'd gone off to Africa, of all places. You'd stand out like a thoroughbred in a string of nags there, if Kristoff doesn't already."

Anna couldn't help the small laugh that bubbled up. "You made a horse joke."

"I learned from the best." Elsa's brow furrowed as she considered options. "Anna, if you wanted, I could have Calhoun try to find Kristoff."

Anna looked up, hope lodging in her throat. "Would Calhoun be able to do it? What if I could go with him? Kristoff might show himself if he heard that I was looking for him."

Elsa was already shaking her head. "Anna, no. You know you can't. If Kristoff does not want to be found, he might be avoiding towns and cities where his presence would be noted. He might not even be in Africa anymore. Didn't he also want to visit places like India and the Far East? A trip like that, it would take years—" Elsa nearly cursed herself when Anna looked away.

"I'm sorry, I hadn't meant to sound discouraging," Elsa sighed. "I meant to say that it would be dangerous for you to go." Though Elsa had a suspicion that someone might already know where Kristoff was.

As understanding and gregarious as Frederick was, he was a king with a kingdom to look after; she doubted he'd allow his only heir to wander the world without knowing exactly where he was. The only thing she could not understand was why Anna was left in the dark about Kristoff's whereabouts if Frederick did know.

"I know it's a stupid idea, Elsa. I just can't stand doing nothing about it. If I could do something, anything to get him to come home—" Anna cut herself off. "I'm sorry. I just want to help and he's my brother. I'm supposed to be there for him and I can't help but wonder if there's more to why he left." Anna's voice dropped off in a way that conveyed exactly where she thought the blame might be.

"I hope you're not implying that you think it's your fault," Elsa said, her voice sharper than she'd intended. "Kristoff's decisions are his own. You are not accountable for what he does."

Anna flinched. Elsa wanted to curse herself again and scrubbed her face with her hands. There was no end to how she was botching things again.

"Forgive me," she started. "I'm apparently poor at reassurances. I meant that no matter why he's been gone, it's not your fault. Nobody knows his reasons except himself—perhaps now is a good time to tell you about my parents. We've delayed again, so if you'll finish your bath, I'll tell you."

Elsa turned away and rested her back against the tub to give Anna some privacy, the porcelain cold across her shoulder blades. "You remember what I told you earlier today? About my parents' reason for marriage?"

"Yes, of course."

"Have you ever wondered why they never had more children after me?"

There was a brief silence as Anna thought on it. "I did," she admitted. "But just in passing. I always thought you had to be lonely by yourself. Servants and parents aren't the same, not like me and Kristoff."

"No, you're right, it's not quite the same. Alice said it was because my mother couldn't have more children. When my parents married, the first pregnancy was a miscarriage."

There was a small splash that sounded like the washcloth had been dropped into water. Anna's voice was small and edged in shock when she spoke. "A miscarriage? I thought—the pregnancy was..."

"Was me?" Elsa examined the hem of her chemise that lay over her crossed legs, her fingers plucking at the lace. "I thought so, too, until I remembered the year they wed and when I was born. Alice said my mother and father tried several times, but it never… took. Until me. The doctors told my mother to not try anymore; another might kill her, miscarriage or not. My mother gave my father leave to take a royal mistress, for a male heir. Like the English do."

"A mistress?" Anna gasped. "Your mother, Aunt Marina, she would never—"

"My father refused," Elsa interjected with a smile. "And he decided I would be his heir. Do you see, Anna? For a very long time, I thought I was the reason they didn't have more children. I thought they didn't want to risk having another child inheriting ice magic, but that's not the case at all. I never had the courage to ask, though I'm sure they'd have told me if I had. When they died, I'd have never known if it hadn't been for your mother."

Anna was silent as she digested the rest of the tale.

"If there's anything I've learned from my family, Anna, it's to not think you know the reasons why. Don't take silence and uncertainty as proof. Kristoff wouldn't have left because of you; you know that's preposterous as well as I do. You're his sister and he loves you."

"But if not me, then Corona could have," Anna said softly. "And he can't leave Corona behind forever. Kristoff isn't like you, Elsa. He was never comfortable with power or responsibility, not the kind that comes with ruling a kingdom. He always felt too much." Anna realized her slip and bit her lip. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it the way it sounded." She certainly had not meant to imply that Elsa felt too little; Anna knew that was the farthest thing from the truth.

Elsa shook her head. "I know what you meant. There's a distance that rulers must place between themselves and those they lead and, well, we both know how good I am at that. He's not like me, but he doesn't need to be. I think Kristoff is capable."

Anna relaxed visibly. There was no one who knew better than Elsa, and she took comfort in that. "Do you really believe that?"

"Have you ever known me to give idle compliments?" Elsa asked with a faint curve of her lips. "I'm more apt to say nothing at all if I come across an incompetent."

"Or fill my ear with words like 'idiot,' or 'ass' privately—"

"Enough," Elsa shushed, laughing in spite of herself. "Some people look in the mirror and expect to find someone with a brain gazing back. Who am I to relieve them of this blissful state?"

Anna snorted. "Yes, it's a kindness that you dispense out like candy."

"But short of having Kristoff dragged home, you'd at least want to know he's safe, is that right?"

"Nobody can really make him come home other than Papa, but I do want to know that he's safe."

"I'll do my best," Elsa promised. "And who knows, perhaps Calhoun will enjoy the idea of wrangling a royal prince and bringing him here."

Anna grinned at the image. "I wouldn't object if he did. I'd like to give Kristoff a piece of my mind after all this time."

"I'll offer a nice bonus to him for you, then."

Dinner was confirmed to be a grand one; its opulence bordered that of the wedding party. Elsa suspected Gerda had browbeaten and baited the cooks into producing their very best, and maybe most questionable, fares. Dishes were laid out on the long table like a smattering of trophies, all vying for attention. Even the footmen were dressed in their very finest, which had to have taken some doing as they wore the exact same thing every evening. But they still managed to look… shinier than usual.

Elsa squinted. Yes, that was it—buttons had been polished, uniforms starched, pristine white gloves standing out starkly as a flock of doves, and boots gleamed like newly minted coins.

"Gerda, I'd no idea we were hosting every head of state on the continent tonight," Elsa remarked as she studied the glittering room. Even the candles looked brighter than usual. "I hope you've no plans to seat my mother and father-in-law at the other end, I have no yearning to shout conversation down the table like a street vendor at a horse fair."

Anna couldn't quite stifle her snicker. Gerda looked as though she'd like to send Elsa to her room without supper, which did nothing but make Elsa raise her brows in challenge.

"I certainly would not dictate where to seat the king and queen of Corona," Gerda replied. Even the housekeeper was attired in her best dress, the very image of a stately lady quietly plotting revenge behind a prim mask. Elsa bit back a laugh and nodded to the table.

"You've outdone yourself. I'm sure Frederick and Alice will love this," she said earnestly—a peace offering for the gibe.

Gerda beamed back. With Elsa apparently pardoned, the housekeeper turned and swept away to order more servants about like a power-mad martinet.

"She's still going to make you pay for that," Anna remarked as they seated themselves.

"Probably," Elsa agreed, unperturbed. "It's a game we play. You can probably imagine who wins most of the time, though I've long since lost track of the score."

"She loves you," Anna said, remembering her conversation with Gerda earlier that evening. "She calls you her little girl."

"No matter if I've a crown on my head, an army at my back, or you by my side, I'll likely always be that little girl to her," Elsa said with a half-smile. "I can't say I really mind it. I'm very lucky to have her."

Dinner began once Frederick and Alice arrived. Conversation was animated between Anna and her parents, and largely kept to the day's events, though Anna was careful to leave out details of the trip to Weselton, and avoided Lady Charlotte entirely.

"The servants were going on and on about your walk today in the city," Alice commented. "Goodness, one would think a stroll is tantamount to stripping down to undergarments in the middle of Ardvik Square and dancing about that statue of some ancestor of yours, dear. The way the maids talked! I really must question your staff's standards for real titillating gossip, Elsa."

Elsa closed her eyes while Anna burst out laughing next to her. Her mother-in-law, she decided silently, would never, ever be proper. Privately, Elsa couldn't say that she didn't enjoy it—conversations with Alice were never boring.

"I will pass along your comments," Elsa said, completely straight-faced. "I will suggest for them to speak to the stable hands. According to Anna, all sorts of gossip and tales fill the stalls that are not fit for polite company."

"The best kind!" Alice beamed.

And so that ridiculous line of dialogue went for most of the night with Elsa following along with good humor—dinner with her own parents had never proceeded in such an absurd fashion. While Frederick and Anna dove into discussion about horses again, Elsa turned to find Alice studying her. For once, Elsa did not feel pinned by her mother-in-law's gaze; she was remarkably at ease and gave her a questioning look.

"You look considerably happier than before," Alice said by way of explanation. "Both you and Anna, in fact."

"We did enjoy our city stroll that has the entire castle buzzing," Elsa said drily. "It also served the purpose of averting rumors that I am a vampire that only rises in the dead of moonless night."

"Ah, some domestic diplomacy! How thoughtful of you to both banish old rumors and provide fodder for new ones. Though your complexion does indicate that you favor nighttime activities. You will assure me that it was my daughter's idea, is that right?" Alice replied, just as ironic.

"Actually, it was mine." Elsa had not missed the innuendo and reconsidered the flag idea; there was some merit to it if it would stop all the personal questions. "We cleared up some more things about our future."

"Setting up ground rules?"

"More like making clear what our mutual intentions are," Elsa said, smiling. "How was your ride today? I hope Anna directed you to one of the milder trails."

"She did at least do that much before she abandoned us for your esteemed company. My last day and she still deserts her mother," Alice sighed, but continued in a more serious tone, "You know, dear, I've no great fondness for those hooved things despite what the rest of my family thinks. The irony that I am queen to the country famous for the beasts is not lost on me."

Elsa chuckled. "That I'm married to the princess of the same country is not lost on me either. I suspect Anna will try to sway my opinion on horses more actively than Frederick tried with you."

"My daughter does seem to think love for the overgrown things can be cajoled out of anyone, yes. I've no words of advice other than good luck to you and your saddle sores, dear. I do not envy you."

Elsa smiled again and gave a small shrug. "Well, she just might convince me. She's requested daily morning rides."

"Daily! Your seat will never be the same." Alice affected mock horror. "Not to veer very far away from topic, but I do trust you to take care of Anna. It's why Frederick and I agreed to allow the marriage. I can't imagine Anna being very happy with anyone else."

Elsa couldn't help herself. "Not even Prince Hans?"

Alice rolled her eyes, her expression remarkably similar to that of Frederick's when the Southern Isles prince had last come up. "Oh, that boy. He'd have bored Anna to tears inside of six months, I'd wager every one of my heirlooms on that. I've never known anyone so utterly lacking in personality; almost every opinion he had was from someone else. Not passionate about a single thing, if you could believe it. At least you can enjoy a good joke, dear. Half the time, the poor boy didn't know whether to nod like a farm chicken or scold me. His face would turn into a blank slate, like a mirror waiting for a subject to come by."

Alice shook her head and continued, "You'd think one of those dozen brothers would have pounded something into that empty head of his."

Elsa blinked, shocked at the narrative. This was the man Anna had wanted to marry, if only for companionship and respectability? By Anna's own admission, she had not known Prince Hans for very long; if he was as chameleon-like as Alice had implied, then perhaps he'd only shown what Anna had thought she wanted in a husband. Perhaps it'd be worthwhile to consider what exactly Anna had thought she wanted and how Elsa compared to it, but she pushed the thought away for the time being.

Surprising or not, Alice's commentary did thoroughly vanquished any lingering feelings of jealousy.

"You're a much better match for Anna," Alice added unnecessarily. Her eyes softened as she watched Elsa. "I think Marina and Alexander would have been very happy if they could see you like this."

Elsa waited, letting the familiar heartache and grief pass over her, though it wasn't nearly so intense as it'd once been. At its worst years ago, it would have choked her and left her mired in pain, barely able to eat or sleep, much less function in any kind of useful capacity. This time, the dark misery receded as quickly as it'd come, instead of haunting her like a spectre for days, or weeks.

A buoyant lightness slowly filled her as Elsa found that she believed Alice's words; if her mother and father were here to see her, she imagined they would have been happy. She wasn't the grief-stricken, orphaned daughter, or the withdrawn, reluctant queen, nor the woman bracing herself for heartbreak, anymore.

She'd changed, and become something that felt whole again. She only wished they were alive to thank them for steering her down the right path, and leading Anna to her to help her back up when she stumbled.

"I think they would have been happy as well, Aunt Alice," Elsa answered softly. "I truly do."

As dinner's end drew close, Kai discreetly delivered a message that Elsa had been expecting, though not quite so soon. Before she could ponder her next step, Frederick and Alice rose to their feet. Anna followed suit with a comment that she wanted to join her mother for a little longer before they retired. Frederick ruffled his daughter's hair fondly as she passed him by; Elsa sprung on the opportunity.

"Uncle Frederick, do you have a moment?"

Frederick stopped mid-step as Alice and Anna left, head turning to face his daughter-in-law. "I've no other plans for the evening," he replied, his tone as neutral as her own.

Elsa grimaced inwardly—relations were still a bit strained without company to buffer the tension. Frederick looked wary, as if she might start demanding marriage contract amendments again. "I'll try to keep this brief, but if you'd be seated?"

Frederick obeyed and aimed a questioning look when Elsa dismissed the footmen. The doors closed after the last man.

"I doubt you'd want this conversation to be part of castle gossip," Elsa said. She sat and pushed her plate aside.

"First, I do want to apologize about the way I handled certain aspects of my marriage," Elsa began. "Especially in regards to the marriage clause and… our previous meeting. I regret my words and I did not mean to offend you. I consider you my uncle, as I always have, and a second father," she added honestly.

Frederick puffed out a breath, then released a short bark of laughter. "Your father taught you to wear remorse well."

Elsa sighed softly in relief at that; the air eased and she relaxed against the back of her chair. "I've had a lot of practice recently. Anna humbles me. A great deal."

"I cannot say that you don't look improved recently. Very well, I accept your apology and you have mine as well. What did you wish to speak of?"

She hoped what she was about to say wouldn't damage their relationship so soon after forgiveness had been exchanged. "Anna has recently expressed her concern about…" Elsa gave it up. There was no point in trying to dance around the issue, especially not with Frederick; he appreciated the straightforward approach as much as she did.

"Anna misses her brother," Elsa said bluntly.

The mix of surprise and pain that passed over Frederick's face had a second apology hovering on the tip of her tongue as she braced herself for refusal.

"She wouldn't be alone in that," Frederick answered, before she could say anything else. "We all miss him."

Relieved that her father-in-law had not thrown her out of the room, Elsa nodded and continued, "While I have faith that Kristoff will return home soon, Anna is worried for him. I've promised Anna I would try to find him and at least confirm his well-being. The reason I bring this up to you is because I think you may know where Kristoff is. That you may have been keeping track of his movements since the day he left."

Frederick's face went blank. It was several moments before he could answer. "You're very much your father's daughter," he said, his voice oddly tight. "Alexander could do that as well—discern a man's thoughts with nothing more than what he could see."

"I may be like my father, but I've known you for almost my entire life, Uncle. I knew you'd have never let Kristoff put himself in danger, not if you could help it."

The king closed his eyes and rubbed a hand over his face before he answered. "You're right. He is my son, and I protect my own. I did have him followed."

"Did?" Elsa prompted.

Frederick looked immeasurably tired. "Did. My men lost track of him eight months ago in Egypt. He got caught up in some Bedouin tribal dispute in the desert and disappeared. I don't know where he is anymore."

She breathed in sharply as Frederick's words sank in. Kristoff was missing? "You haven't had any word of him for eight months? No letters from him or anyone else? What about his promise to attend the wedding?"

"His last letter did promise he'd come to the wedding, but that was almost ten months ago. This is not the first time Kristoff has disappeared. He's lost my men before for a few weeks, sometimes months. All I have now are sporadic sightings, none of which can be confirmed were him." He sighed. "The distance does not help. Even if someone were to find him, it'd be weeks before I'd catch wind of it."

"Why haven't you told Anna any of this?"

He looked away. "How do you expect me to tell my daughter that I've lost her brother in the godforsaken desert? She'd have no choice but to believe he was dead, and you know that would have hurt her deeply. If he were in a safe place, he'd have sent word of some kind. I don't know what to believe, but the only thing that can be done now is that I find my son, so that conversation with Anna will never have to take place."

"Do you think he might have been kidnapped for ransom, then?"

"No. If he had, I'd have received a demand for his life by now."

"Where was he last seen, then? What city?"

"South of Cairo. What do you plan to do?" Frederick asked when Elsa stood.

"I told Anna I would try to find him. Even if you haven't had any success, I'd at least like to try. My attorney, Calhoun, will likely have some kind of contact in Egypt or elsewhere. Give me the name of whoever is coordinating your search and perhaps we'll be able to find more."

Frederick relayed names and locations. "I know it's unnecessary to repeat this, but this must be kept quiet. As far as everybody else knows, my son is only traveling. Not a word about him being missing." Or dead, which truly did not need to be said at all.

"I know." Elsa filed away the names and made a note to contact Holsen at the soonest opportunity. She stopped at the door and looked back at the king with a trace of regret. "I can't promise the same for Anna, though. She should know. I don't want to keep secrets from her anymore."

Frederick looked resigned, but unsurprised. "I would not ask you to. I know she will be angry with me."

Elsa hesitated. "If you want, I can tell her after you leave."

But Frederick was already shaking his head. "No, you know that's the coward's way out, Elsa. I will not do that, not to my daughter."

Elsa nodded once and left her father-in-law to contemplate a glass of wine.

—

Anna later found Elsa in her study after she left her mother.

"You spend far too much time in here," Anna informed the queen. Instead of pulling up a chair, she simply tossed her legs over Elsa's lap and settled in like an affectionate cat.

"Comfortable?" Elsa inquired with quirked brow, her hands aloft and still full of parchment that she needed to read. "Does your highness require a pillow as well?"

Anna gave Elsa a patronizing little pat and looped an arm behind Elsa's shoulders, her fingers tangling in blonde hair. "No, thank you, I find your lap most accommodating. Mother wanted to give me some of her things before she and Papa leave tomorrow. What are you reading? Your father's old draft?"

"No, just some legislation about livestock. Shall I read it to you? It'd make for an excellent bedtime story. There's even sheep involved."

Anna laughed. "That would send me straight off into dreams, but maybe later. I'm still quite awake."

Elsa set the papers back down on her desk and wrapped one arm about Anna's waist and the other hand on her bent knee. "I was waiting for you, actually. Do you have any plans for tomorrow?"

"Are you referring to my demanding social schedule? All those visits that I, Princess Consort of Arendelle, must bestow upon the eager populace like the rare favors they are?" Anna said in her best imitation of Elsa's imperiousness.

Once Elsa had finished snorting at that, Anna grinned and answered, "Aside from the morning ride that you won't be wriggling out of, and seeing my parents off, no. Why?"

"Do you remember how I said that I would need to speak to the Royal Council about that inheritance law?"

"Of course, what about it?"

"Well, quite a few of them are in the city currently. It's rather fortuitous timing since most did attend our wedding. I sent a letter to one who I know will be itching to leave the city as soon as it's acceptably polite to, which is Baron Enberg. You don't know him—we weren't very social during the party, and he wasn't formally introduced to you."

"You'll be meeting him, then?"

"Yes, I received a response right after dinner. He's available tomorrow."

"Do you want me to come with you? If it might convince him to help you?"

Elsa paused to think about that. "I'm not sure. I'm afraid I don't know the baron very well. He's one of the more influential councilmembers. I know he dislikes city life; he much prefers his countryside estate that's rather far-removed to the east. His lands are rich in timber that's sold to shipyards, and he makes some profit selling furs, too. Quite different from how the rest of Arendelle's trade is done," she remarked. "My forefathers were not called the accountant kings for nothing."

"Because of all the loans and investing?"

"Yes. Arendelle doesn't make much of anything. We simply… have wealth by virtue of our gold mines, and the way we conduct business. It breeds some resentment, undeserved or not." Elsa idly traced a pattern on Anna's knee with a finger, feeling very content at the moment.

"I think I would like it if you came with me to meet Baron Enberg. You'd likely meet him at some point anyway. Perhaps you'll do most of the work and charm him for me. He likes horses, too, from what I understand of him," Elsa said with exaggerated patience, as though the preference was a character flaw that had to be endured.

Anna smiled against Elsa's hair; she was tempted to indulge Elsa and take the bait, but she was also feeling remarkably content and allowed it to pass. "I think I do have some experience with charming lords. I'll come with you to meet your baron, then."

Elsa was quiet for a moment, her heart heavy with what she needed to do, and said, "Anna, I spoke to your father about Kristoff."

Anna sat up straight to examine Elsa. "You did? What did he say? I mean, Papa never talks about Kristoff, and anytime I try to bring him up, he always changes the subject. It's like pulling teeth."

Elsa repeated what Frederick had told her, taking care to leave nothing out.

"He's what?" Anna snapped, her voice nearly cracking. "He didn't say anything when Kristoff got kidnapped by Arabs?!"

"I don't know if Kristoff was actually kidnapped. Your father said he'd gotten caught up in something and that he has been trying to find Kristoff since. He said didn't want to worry you." But even that excuse felt weak in the face of Anna's outrage.

"My brother might be dead or dying and my father didn't want to worry me?" Anna launched herself from Elsa's lap violently enough to have the queen rub at her abused legs with a wince. "Is there something wrong with me? Why does everybody want to keep things from me?" Anna demanded.

Elsa just managed to control her flinch. "There's nothing wrong with you, Anna. It's not to keep the truth from you, it's just—" She struggled to find the right words, the right tone, but she'd been guilty of doing the very same thing and it felt patently false to defend it.

"Papa knew, he knew the entire time, and he didn't tell me. Oh, my god, I knew there was a reason why there hasn't been a letter for months. Because Kristoff might not ever—because he could be—" Anna's voice went thick and she pressed a hand to her mouth.

Elsa went to Anna at once, reaching a hand out to touch her, but Anna jerked away.

"I don't want to be coddled. I didn't ask for it. Do people think that I can't bear to hear the truth? Or that I'm a child and not a grown woman?"

"You're not a child," Elsa said softly. "But you are upset and I'm sorry for it. You have every right to feel the way that you do."

Anna's hard stare was aimed somewhere over Elsa's shoulder. Her face was pale, her breathing uneven. "You did it, too," she muttered, but Elsa could hear the accusing tone. She inclined her head in acknowledgment of that fact, well-deserved as it was.

"I did. I know I was wrong to have assumed I knew what was best. Before the wedding, the last time I had seen you was when you were but a girl, and perhaps that was what stayed in my mind—that I had to act in your best interest because I thought you didn't know what you wanted. It wasn't my place to make those decisions for you, I know that."

Anna's hands clenched before she forced them to relax. "I know it's not your fault. Kristoff and Papa not saying anything isn't your fault." Anna swallowed and pressed fingers to her eyes before her breath heaved out in a sigh. "It's not your fault. But my own father lied to me, Elsa. For months, he didn't say anything."

She drew Anna into her arms, hugging her tightly. "I'm sorry, Anna. I truly am. Do you want to speak to your father?"

Anna shook her head silently.

"All right, then. I know you're upset, but do you think that Kristoff could be dead?"

Anna hesitated, then shook her head again. "No, I don't. Not really. Kristoff is capable, like you said. Not in the way that he can be a king—I mean that he knows how to survive. He always liked being outside, and he had friends in the army who taught him how to fight. He knows what to do if he's stranded somewhere, how to forage, find water and shelter. We used to go camping."

"Yes, I remember you suggesting that particular past time," Elsa said, making a face to lighten the mood. "And did your father ever say anything about following Kristoff?"

Anna sighed and looked away. "To be honest, I thought he might have been doing that. It's like him to, even though Papa wouldn't admit it. He wouldn't let Kristoff go alone at first. He had some people go with Kristoff, but Kristoff stranded them at the first port their ship docked in, and he's only gotten better at losing them since. But I trusted Papa to tell me if something like this happened, Elsa."

"I won't dispute that he should have told you. I'd want to know if I were in your place. But remember that he was thinking of you when he did it. It doesn't make what he did justifiable, but he is your father. Family is..." Elsa smiled and brushed Anna's fringe out of her eyes. "Well, you know. Complicated. Look at my own family."

Anna's expression remained troubled. "Keeping secrets—"

"I know. I can't tell you how you should feel, but your parents are leaving tomorrow and it might be some time before you can see them again. I just don't want you to regret anything when you look back at this."

"You're saying I should forgive Papa for this?"

"Not necessarily. Do you think you'd regret exchanging potentially angry words with him, and then having to wait several months or more before you get the chance to speak again?" Elsa waited a beat, then added, "Perhaps I'm biased, but I've always valued my relationship with my father. I don't want you and your father to become estranged. Both of you are very close."

Anna struggled with herself before her shoulders slumped in defeat. "Since when did you become the voice of reason?"

"I must hoard those rare moments for when you need them," Elsa said lightly. "Don't worry, I'm sure my nerves will be as delicate and as sensitive as ever, and require your attention to soothe."

Anna smiled at that, quick and small. "I should talk to Papa, but I don't think right now. I think if I talked to him now I probably will regret what I say."

"A good night's sleep might be best. If it eases your mind, your father did give me the names of the people who are looking for Kristoff now. I'll pass them on to Calhoun and see if we can broaden the search."

Anna gripped Elsa's hands and smiled up at her again. "It does. Thank you."

Because the moment seemed to call for it, because Anna still looked wounded and worried, a sight which Elsa could not stand and would do anything to prevent, she cupped Anna's face and kissed her.

Anna started at first, but she returned the kiss and the solace it offered, pressing herself against Elsa. Lips teased and lingered, their owners reluctant to part even for air. Noses and foreheads touched and bumped together while their breaths mingled, warm and soft.

"Anna," Elsa murmured, just to say her name. Her entire life, she had associated happiness with that name—whenever a letter arrived bearing a royal seal and a distinctive scrawl, whenever she saw a knight chess piece, whenever she stood beneath the sun in summer, waiting for the Coronan flag to appear over the water on the horizon—Anna. There were no other words she needed. She would gladly give up every word she knew, lock them all away, if she could have only that one.

"Anna," Elsa said, her eyes opening to look at Anna's face. It felt like her heart was going to burst with how much she felt, as though there wasn't enough space to hold in the emotion. Elsa framed Anna's beautiful face, thumbs brushing the freckles that she'd yet to count. She took in lush eyelashes, blue eyes, pert nose, even the faint white scar near the bottom of her chin from a riding accident. All of it perfect and real and hers.

How, Elsa wondered in amazement, had she remained silent for so long? How could she have never even tried to express what had been lurking inside her for so long, like a hibernating animal stirring for spring, because it suddenly felt so wrong that she had never said—

"Anna, I love you."

And nothing had ever felt more right and true than those words. Elsa couldn't stop the smile that unfurled anymore than she could command the planets to align. Anna's eyes went wide, her lips parting in surprise, while Elsa wanted to laugh with joy.

It felt so good to say it—the greatest weight off her, a pressure that she'd never known was there in the first place. A very deep sense of relief followed, the kind that was so acute that it bordered on pain to experience it.

"I love you," Elsa repeated, this time testing the words, savoring the way they rolled off her tongue. Would she ever taste anything as sweet as this? "I love—"

Anna pulled her down and crushed their lips together, as though she was greedy for the words, impatient enough to drag them out of Elsa. The kiss was fierce and a little bruising, eliciting a burning thrill down Elsa's spine that had her wrapping her arms around Anna's hips as if her wife was Elsa's only anchor to the world.

When Anna finally released her, she stared up at Elsa with eyes that looked almost angry, if it weren't for her next words.

"What took you so long?" Anna demanded.

"I don't know," Elsa answered honestly. She frowned before her mind caught up. "Wait, you knew?"

Anna at least had the grace to look guilty. "I did."

"When? When did you—god, don't answer that. I'm not sure I want to know, I thought—" Elsa looked distinctly aggrieved and sighed. "Your mother did say it was… painfully obvious."

To everybody but herself, evidently. Though her issue had been that she hadn't wanted to admit it, most especially to herself. What point had there been in coveting something she'd never have? It was as useful as wishing ice magic away.

"It was after our fight. I knew then," Anna clarified.

Elsa gave her a dubious look. "When we were yelling at each other and I was being vicious? Did your horse kick you in the head and you remember it differently than I do?"

"No, silly. I just realized why you did the things you did."

"You deduced it from…" Elsa trailed off and shifted uncomfortably. "God, that's just—"

Anna interrupted before Elsa could decide whether she should feel more embarrassed about the matter. "Now, answer my question about why you took so long."

Elsa shifted her weight from one foot to the other and, foolishly, wanted to grumble. "Well, we're both aware that I'm an idiot when it comes to things like this. But I love you and I'm not letting you go, even if you change your mind and decide you'd prefer that Southern Isles prince, who your mother said had the personality of a rock anyway—"

"You talked to my mother about Hans?" Anna interrupted, sounding vaguely outraged.

Elsa tried not to glare. She was no more pleased by the way Anna addressed the prince—her almost-fiance, a dark thought rumbled—by his given name now than she had been before. "Yes. Do you find this offensive?"

"I—well, no, not really, but you didn't have to ask my mother about him. I would have told you if you had asked."

"I do not entertain a secret desire to talk about your suitors," Elsa said, just barely keeping the sneer off her face, but not the shadow of it out of her voice.

"In any case, your mother told me plenty. You apparently have poor taste in men. She said I'm better." She knew she was being insufferably smug about it, but it would serve to distract Anna. Elsa lifted a brow up at her, all but daring her wife to say otherwise.

Narrowing her eyes, Anna opened her mouth, then decided against it. Instead, Anna leaned in for a kiss and sank her teeth lightly into Elsa's lower lip.

"You're not a man," Anna murmured against Elsa's mouth. "And you definitely don't have the personality of a rock either—god, you do bait me so much that I wonder if I'm a pond fish instead of your wife. I actually think I have excellent taste, but if you think otherwise, maybe I should reconsider your annulment offer. "

Elsa's head swam while her knees quivered. She would never get tired of Anna's kisses, not ever. "I won't let you," she managed to say. "You're married to me and it's too late to change your mind now."

"And if I protested? Called you a tyrant and all sorts of abuse about you to anybody who would listen?"

Elsa felt more than saw Anna's smirk. She gripped Anna's hips in a firmer hold and bent down until her mouth was over Anna's ear.

"Then I would do my utmost to convince you otherwise, your highness," Elsa promised, her breath warm and silky. "Besides, weren't you the one who said it'd be—how did you put it? That it'd be 'so good.'"

Had she said that? Anna couldn't recall much beyond her own name at the moment. She grasped at Elsa's shoulders, fingers digging into the cloth, just as her eyes fell on the wall behind Elsa. Of course, her memory helpfully recollected the passionate encounter from the erotic novel.

Anna shuddered, torn between pushing Elsa to that wall and just standing there to let Elsa do as she pleased. Both were equally appealing, especially when Elsa began to lavish open-mouthed kisses on her ear.

"Elsa," Anna gasped. Each kiss was destroying every thought in her brain; she knew she had left something important out and Elsa abruptly—and wonderfully—acting upon her desires was not helping. "Wait, wait! I can't—I can't think when you do that. Give me a second."

Elsa chuckled, low and satisfied, and pulled back obligingly. "What is it?"

Anna teetered on her feet and clutched at Elsa to keep from falling. Elsa chuckled again and held her up, walking Anna backward until the backs of her thighs collided with the edge of the desk. Without thinking, Anna sat and slid back on the smooth surface while Elsa stood before her parted legs. A pale hand rested on Anna's knee, the touch both light and arousing.

Elsa's eyes were dark and heated, her lips glistening in the light. "You were saying?" She prompted, her voice husky.

Anna wanted to groan at the sight. Every part of Elsa read pure want—the intent focus of her eyes, the angle of her body toward Anna, even her hands: the one on her knee was trailing fingers down to caress the back of her calf while the other still cupped Anna's hip in a distinctively possessive manner.

No one had ever looked at her that way before. Not Hans, not any of her suitors—no one but Elsa had ever aimed such a look of naked desire at her and every nerve in her body was responding to it eagerly. Anything Elsa asked, she wanted to give it. She was both abashed and thrilled at the thought of their first encounter in the study and on a desk, no less—not because she didn't want it, but at how willing she was to do it, if Elsa wanted it.

If Elsa asked, in that same husky voice, for Anna to draw up her skirts and spread her legs like that woman in the French book, Anna would have complied with shameless rapidity. She had assumed their consummation would involve a bed, but the more she thought about it, the more Anna realized that she really was not opposed to the idea of it being done here, and now, especially if Elsa kept looking at her like that.

"Anna, if you don't say anything soon, I'm going to kiss you," Elsa warned.

That snapped her attention back. "We need to talk about how you feel about me."

"Yes, we can discuss it all you like, though I'm not sure what else there is to say since you knew all along anyway, but does it need to be now?"

"Just this morning, you were fretting yourself into old age about sex and now you're ready to toss my skirts up in your study?" Anna squawked, more than a little indignant. Further criticism died in her mouth when Elsa's eyes dropped down to her skirts with renewed interest.

"Elsa!" Anna hissed, for lack of anything better to say. She almost clapped her hands over her skirt in a ridiculous show of modesty, but stopped herself in time. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm trying very hard not to," Elsa replied with surprising candor. "When I am thinking, I start worrying and fretting, as you said, and the last thing I want to do is brood myself into an agonizing stupor. I do excel at that, you have to admit."

Rather than agreeing—it really was an irrefutable truth that did not need confirmation—Anna cupped the back of Elsa's neck, her hand slipping under long blonde hair, and pulled the queen down until their foreheads bumped together. She gathered herself, pushing the shimmering desire back. Then Anna took a deep breath and, trusting her instincts, leapt. "I love you, too, Elsa."

Elsa went very, very still as silence stretched between them. Anna heard Elsa swallow.

"Is that so?" Elsa said with forced lightness. That was the best she could manage when she was so off-kilter and dazed. Anna's meaning was unmistakable—there was no uncertainty or doubt about what kind of love she was talking about. No "as a friend" or "because we're married and I'm obligated to say these things."

Anna meant it in the same way that Elsa had. Anna meant it.

Her palms went damp while her body was swathed in both heat and cold and overlaid with shaky nerves and terror. For a horrifying moment, Elsa thought she had misheard, that everything that had just happened was a conjured dream from fever-induced delirium, and that she was actually dying and unaware of it—and then she would be cruelly jerked awake for either a life of misery or blissful oblivion.

She was being melodramatic in her mental hysteria, Elsa realized. Just how did Anna tolerate her? Probably because Elsa knew well enough when to keep her trap shut during moments like these, settling on gross understatements rather than exposing her absurdities. Anna was right—she truly would fret herself into an early grave at this rate.

Anna cupped Elsa's jaw with her other hand, peering into Elsa's eyes as she would a restive mare. "Yes, I think so. If I'm not already in love with you, then I'm falling more in love with you every day. I'll catch up to you soon."

"'Catch up?' What do you mean?"

"I think you've loved me for longer than you're letting on while I've only just started. But I know where I'll end up, and there's nowhere else that I would want to be than with you. I didn't say anything earlier because I wasn't sure how I felt and I didn't know if you were ever going to say anything at all, much less told me what you wanted. I didn't know what was the right thing to do, but once you said it, it was…" Anna laughed softly, still surprised at herself. "Well, it was a very good hint that I needed."

"My god," Elsa muttered, reeling. She buried her face in Anna's neck, arms hugging the younger woman tightly. Tears were crept up at the back of her eyes, which would have stung her pride if she weren't so relieved and happy. Nonetheless, she would not cry on Anna, and fought tears with deep breaths and the solid support of Anna's body. "Anna, I don't deserve you."

Anna rubbed Elsa's back soothingly. "Maybe not, but your father did decide to inflict me upon you, so you'll just have to put up with me for the rest of your life. A hard burden, isn't it?"

Elsa gave a surprised laugh and drew back. "Yes, I'll have the remainder of my years to ruminate on what I could have done to deserve you. How lucky I am that we're both young and I'll have plenty of time to ponder the question."

Anna grinned. "Maybe it's a rhetorical one."

"Maybe," Elsa agreed. She simply looked at Anna and traced the line of her cheek with a thumb. "You know, Anna, you might find me dumbfounded about this sometimes. Or intolerably smug. I didn't ever think—" She paused, her expression turning rueful. "I never thought things would have turned out the way they have."

"I didn't, either. Everything's just been so… unexpected. In a very good way." Anna tugged at a lock of flaxen hair draped over Elsa's shoulder. She had always admired Elsa's hair, but there was something sensual about it now. "I never thought about women before you. In that way."

Elsa was momentarily speechless. "I've never thought of anyone else at all," she blurted out before she realized what she was saying.

Anna stared. "No one?"

Elsa shook her head. "I've never—" Wanted to think of anyone else; that would have made her life a great deal easier if she could have, but that was just as futile as the ice magic. "You were enough for me," she finished with a faint blush.

Anna's lips parted before she realized she was gaping. She knew Elsa was telling the truth, which only compounded her astonishment—no one at all? She must have been quiet for too long because Elsa's face grew redder.

"I'm sorry, is that strange?" Elsa asked, trying not to sound anxious.

"What? No, that's not—no. It's not, but really, no one else? Not even someone who'd caught your eye?"

Elsa looked even more uncomfortable. "I've never been as close to anyone as I am with you," she said defensively. "Why would I think of anyone else that way?"

Why indeed. When put that way, it did sound like a very silly question. Anna pushed herself off the desk and took a moment to gather herself, smoothing her skirts out. When she was done, she looked up at Elsa with a slight smile. "We've been very lucky, haven't we?"

Elsa tilted her head as she considered the question. "Do you mean in the position that we've found ourselves in? Married and so very…" She exhaled, the sound equal parts surprised and amused. "Mutually fond of each other?"

Anna gave a look of ironic affront. "Yes, how fond we are of each other. Was that in our marriage vows? 'To… be fond of and to cherish, till death do us part?'"

Elsa grinned back, delighted. Instead of answer, she seized Anna in a hug and held her tightly, her breath settling over Anna's ear.

"Yes," Elsa whispered. "I think we've been very lucky."

A/N: I apologize for the prolonged delay. For anyone who wants news on chapter updates, you can check out my tumblr page, which is located in my bio. As always, thanks to somonastic and Rebecca Keys for their help beta-ing this chapter!