A/N: You're going to be seriously confused if you didn't read Part 1 and Part 2 of this series, so I highly suggest that you go do that now (if you haven't already; because really, why does WtKSiNS have 2x the amount of views as WWCK? Aren't you guys really confused reading one without the other? I really couldn't care either way, I just don't understand how you're not confused as hell).
Cover art is Anna and Elsa: Warrior and Mage by Dragoon23 on DeviantART. I have permission to use the image.
How the events differ from the main story line: Elsa never went with Anna to Iloa, instead opting to stay in Arendelle and force herself to hold together even with the temporary loss of Anna. Not three weeks after Anna's departure, she receives word that the negotiations in Iloa went to shit and Anna was forced into marriage with the Prynian half-noble, Commodore Arwyn. She flew into a rage, plummeting Arendelle into a second Great Freeze, and was barely stopped from sailing to Pryne and slaughtering the kingdom by Gerta's logical insistence. Taking her advice-to not damn Arendelle into hostile relations for her or future generations and get Anna back to Arendelle through political means-Elsa unfroze the kingdom, but only to a point. With her anger bubbling and the love of her life ripped away from her, Arendelle is forced into a half-summer half-winter state, with an even colder spring and autumn, and an unfathomable winter.
Meanwhile, the events in Iloa go exactly as they did in When the Knocking Starts it Never Stops (except without Elsa punching Anna on the boat, or any of their interactions in general), but what changes is that, without Elsa, the king dies and everything falls into chaos. Anna declares that she's going to marry Arwyn, and explains that that means that if Iloa were to declare war on Pryne, Arendelle would be their sworn enemy, and that if Pryne were to attack Iloa, Arendelle would be their sworn enemy.
Almost three weeks later—when Anna is safely in Pryne and preparing wedding arrangements—she receives news of the Arendelle Great Freeze, along with a list of even stricter rules and regulations concerning all kingdoms that want to visit or do business with Arendelle. Anna later finds out that the news also came with a personal letter to the Prynian king, informing him that if Anna is ever injured or put in direct or indirect danger of any form—including (but not limited to) a declaration of war on anyone else—she would personally raze their kingdom to the ground. Anna's heart breaks inside knowing how much this is affecting her one and only true love, but she knows she can't do anything without causing a political scandal and getting the cannons of war aimed at Arendelle, and possibly getting herself killed in the process. Unwilling to do that to Elsa, Anna does her duty and marries Arwyn. Elsa doesn't attend.
This piece takes place one year after the events of WTKSiNS.
Arendelle
The citizens part like wildfire as Elsa enters the city astride her icy mare, her eyes fixated in a permanent glare and her mouth drawn in a thin, tense line. As much as Elsa's former self pounds for her attention at the back of her mind, reprimanding her for scaring her people to the point of fearful submission, the queen can't find it within herself to follow the advice. She knows the population deserves better, but she also knows what little fractured sanity she has left will crumble if she lets her emotions back in.
Despite the odds, though, she's been a fair enough ruler even with her frigid, foreboding air and quick temper. On some disturbing notion, it has actually made her more efficient and precise when dealing with the kingdom's issues; not any less affectionate, but noticeably distant.
One of the many downfalls, however, is Elsa's inability to sleep without dreaming.
Without Anna to soothe her worries, Elsa's anxiety and post traumatic stress have re-inflamed with crushing intensity. It had almost turned the queen into a complete basket case before she took drastic measures and implemented her war-time sleeping strategies she used during Iloa-Arendelle hostilities: fighting till she drops and working herself into exhaustion.
She put in place a regular schedule, in which she works for ten straight days—occasionally passing out on the desk in her study—before retreating to the north mountain for three days. These three days are full of unyielding battles with her snow creatures until she eventually passes out, only to repeat the process when she wakes back up in a continuous loop until she eventually has to return to the kingdom. It's a tiresome schedule, one she knows is running her ragged, but the alternative—letting herself be herself again without Anna—is too painful to consider.
Hell, it hurts so much she had to stop her regular 'get Anna back' strategy talks with Gerta.
Poor Gerta.
Elsa can't suppress her emotions well enough to stop the pang of guilt that springs up at the thought of the plump woman.
Gerta had been planning on retiring until they received the news that Anna wasn't coming back, and Elsa went berserk. Gerta had been the only one able to calm the frothing, raging queen, and—upon seeing her calming influence—the council beseeched her to stay. She agreed under the terms that she could still retire from her position, and the council readily agreed – promptly naming her the queen's personal adviser, giving her enough stasis to take up home in the castle to look after her arduous charge.
It's a good thing Gerta had no intention of tackling the problem of the monarch on her own.
Not only did she subtly train the staff to weather Elsa's ever fluctuating mood, she also teamed up with Kristoff and Kai to help her keep the queen's fiery of a temper in check. Despite all odds, her methods actually worked, and even the council members came scrambling to the woman for advice. Elsa's assuming they heeded it, because council has become much more bearable.
With peace of mind in the castle—as much of it as she can get, at any rate—Elsa finds herself never willing to leave the sturdy walls unless she's going for her regular north mountain isolation. It's not like the city would welcome her with open arms like they used to, anyway.
Word of Elsa's ire spread through the population like wildfire, and they all quickly reverted back to the polite but empty distance they had from before her coronation. In a way Elsa's thankful for it, but a more persistent part of her mourns the absence of the optimistic cheer that once rang in the streets at her presence.
It was Anna who made Arendelle happy. It was Anna the population loved. It was Anna who transformed Elsa into someone worthy of the population's adoration.
Without Anna, Elsa is nothing.
Without Anna's warmth to balance Elsa's chill, Arendelle suffers the queen's cold, uncontrollable wrath.
Without Anna, nothing is worth living anymore.
Conceal. Don't feel. Elsa chides herself as she notices tears beginning to prick her eyes. No matter what, she has to stay strong and protect Arendelle.
It's what Anna would have wanted.
Trotting through the castle gates and up to the main doors on her sure, sturdy mare, Elsa lets out a slow, controlled breath.
Ten more days. She only has to last ten more days.
Jumping off her horse, she silently leaves the icy mare to its own devices as she strides purposefully towards the front doors with her head held high, her shoulders back and her back straight. The royal guards on either side of the lofty doors practically scramble to open them for their majesty, but—somehow—they're still able to retain their poise. Considering her callous reputation as of late, it's certainly a feat to be commended.
If only they knew how much she was torturing herself in a desperate attempt to not break down. Elsa smiles forlornly at the thought. Perhaps it would be better if she did.
The winter this year—a testing season even without influence—was so bad that the population had to either seek refuge in the castle or in the war catacombs Elsa created under the city for the Iloa-Arendelle war. In order to quell her dreadful unconscious manipulation of the weather, Elsa had to fight herself into a bloody stupor up on the north mountain. She had to do this so often that she succumbed to doing business with her council through the use of carrier falcons, and only came down from her seclusion when absolutely necessary. She had to have herself mostly cloaked during every trip as to not cause alarm to her bruised and bloody frame. Elsa didn't mind, though – it was a small price to pay for keeping her people safe.
Besides, the pain helped her suppress emotions and memories better left buried.
"Kai." Elsa clips, nodding sharply as he bows. He silently hands her a clean pair of navy blue with baby blue trimmed gloves. Elsa grunts in response and takes hers—soaked in sweat and blood—off and grabs the new pair, quickly handing the used pair over to the chamberlain. She swiftly pulls on the new pair before walking briskly in the direction of the council room, waving for Kai to follow.
This is another old habit she's taken to – wearing gloves all the time. She hasn't been this dependant on them since before her coronation four years ago, and—although it's for the best—it leaves an unsettling feeling in her stomach when she thinks about it.
"Update." Elsa grunts, dragging herself from her own thoughts.
"Since your leave there have been several non-pressing requests put forth by the populace; the council raised concern over Arendelle's strict foreign policies, saying they boarder on the line of hostile; the head of defense spoke up about our drastic defense increase over the past year, hesitantly suggesting you might be over doing it; Corona has invited you to their annual summer ball; the Southern Isles sends their thanks for your most recent temporary golem aid that helped repair the damage wrought by a storm; and Pryne has—"
Elsa stops in her tracks and stands stock still, her teeth clenching painfully. Kai respectably stops talking to give time for the monarch to catch her bearings, and keep her unruly temper in check.
"What about Pryne?" Elsa grinds, her jaw muscles jumping and her eyes narrowing dangerously at nothing as she spits out the kingdom's name. The temperature drops several degrees. Kai clears his throat gently.
"Pryne has invited you to their famed gladiator tournament that they host every four years." Kai says, keeping his voice carefully neutral.
Pryne is a rough subject on the best of days, but any letter sent that encourages a reply from the monarch is often seen as them trying to rub salt on her still-open wounds. For the most part, however, she's typically not wrong.
"Slimy bastards." Elsa spits, her hands balling into fists and her shoulders trembling in rage. The temperature plummets. Kai, once again, clears his throat – his signature gentle reminder for the queen to keep herself in check.
"The invitation was personally addressed to you by princess consort Anna, your majesty." He says. That gives Elsa pause. On one hand the queen is thrilled, on the other revolted at Kai's use of 'princess consort' and, somewhere in the middle, she wants to break down and weep.
But that's nothing new.
Elsa nods slowly, thoughtfully. The temperature slowly starts to regulate itself.
"What are the details on this tournament?" The queen asks, her voice carefully measured. Kai allows himself a small, pleased smile.
"Gerta wants to go over the details with you later on, so you'll be getting plenty of information then."
Elsa gives the chamberlain a curious quirked eyebrow, but the man remains tight-lipped aside his ever growing smile.
"Something Gerta has taken a personal interest in, eh?" Elsa murmurs to herself, pursing her lips in thought. "Must be something of substantial worth." She hums, before a frown tugs on her lips. She has half the mind to accuse the woman of simply wanting to coax the monarch into seeing Anna again, but the queen knows that Gerta knows better than that – if Elsa were to see Anna without a plan to get her back to Arendelle, she'd freeze Pryne solid in a heartbeat. Talk about a political uproar – slaughtering a whole kingdom just to get your married once-upon-a-time fiancée back.
Anna would never be able to look at her the same, either.
So that means that Gerta—that brilliant tactician—must be brewing up a plan. The thought almost makes Elsa smile. Almost. Hope is the last thing Elsa needs.
Hope can destroy her.
Stifling any joy she might of had, Elsa schools her features and nods sharply.
"I would like to read over this invitation before I am bombarded with a plan in which I have no context. Also, I would like you to fetch me all information we have regarding this tournament." Elsa says, her voice crisp. Kai nods sharply, all traces of emotion disappearing from his features.
"I have already taken the liberty of leaving the tournament's schedule of events and the rules and regulations underneath the invitation on the desk in your study." He informs. Elsa nods and takes a moment to mull over her obligations in her head. With a soft hum, she says:
"Tell the council that the meeting has been moved to this afternoon. Where's Gerta?"
"In her personal study, your majesty."
"Good. Inform her that I will seek her out there immediately after I read over the information you've supplied me." Elsa orders. She doesn't even wait for a response as she turns heel and—with the harshness of her step—practically marches up the stairs and pushes into her study, shutting the door with a blast of winter wind behind her.
Settling herself into her chair, she grabs the gold and silver invitation, authorized by the Pryian royal seal pressed into golden wax. The familiar sight makes her want to puke, but she forges on and forces herself to read the blasted thing.
Elsa's heart melts when she realises the entire thing is written by Anna's hand.
Elsa reverently traces her gloved fingers over the elegant cursive. She traces every letter, every loop, every dotted 'i' and every crossed T until she reaches—
Elsa snaps her hand away as if she's been burnt.
At the bottom of the page, Anna signed her name 'Anna Prathian' instead of 'Anna Arendale'.
Those stupid fucking bastards made her change her goddamn name as if they were branding her like cattle. Elsa seethes, the temperature around her falling far below freezing. Frost starts creeping across the floor, up the walls and over the window. Elsa grits her teeth, trying to convince herself that she's being unreasonable – that Anna would never have been allowed to keep her last name, but part of her just can't allow it.
If Anna were hers, she never would have had to change her name.
Tears burning in her eyes, Elsa growls in frustration and grits her teeth even harder, forcing herself to actually read the wretched invitation.
For the most part it's just formal mumbo-jumbo Anna was no doubt required to write, but at the bottom, in a little sentence all by itself, it reads; 'I know you're not happy with Pryne right now, but I think it'll do everyone a lot of good if you show up. If nothing else, please come to see me. I miss you.' Elsa stares at that little section and reads it over and over again until it practically scorches itself into her pupils. Elsa sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. Hard.
Like I could ever say no to you. Her regretful internal voice sighs, with a grieving edge that quickly urges Elsa to push the voice aside and move onto reading the two documents Kai left underneath the invitation.
It isn't long until Elsa figures out exactly what her former maid is thinking.
"Either you're bloody mad thinking I can pull this off, or you're a fucking genius." Elsa mutters, scanning over the parchment one last time.
In short, all she has to do is sign up as a secret competitor and win every bout fair and square and she is granted anything she desires.
The problem, however, lies in two things. The first is that she'd have to cover her ass so no one would think it strange that she is absent whenever the mystery knight is fighting, and the second is that she'll have to win the matches without the use of magic. While Elsa has insane skills, she recalls her words to Anna right before the girl left for Iloa.
I'm saying that I had to remain strong as a solo for absurdly long amounts of time and my muscles reflect that, but just because I can still pack a punch after twelve hours of constant bombardment, it doesn't mean I can do it with any finesse. I've been trained in the art of downing people with the least amount of energy within the mass of many, not so much in prolonged engagements with skilled fighters. Without the aid of magic, I'm afraid I'd lose those types of fights.
Now, while pounding on golems every ten days might of improved her skill, she doubts it is anywhere near the perfection she'll need in order to pull this off against warriors who no doubt trained specifically for this for who knows how many years.
I'm also going to have to train in the art of downing instead of immediately going for the kill. Elsa muses, reading over the conditions of what is required to win the bouts. It's the standard, 'knockout', 'yield' and 'death', but the fine print below it catches her eye, and makes her scowl.
'Pryne reserves the right to determine whether or not the winning gladiator kills the losing gladiator if the winner triumphs by a knockout or a yield.'
Elsa throws the parchment across the room.
Of course she knows that Pryne isn't stupid enough to call for the death of a losing gladiator unless it is completely justified by everyone in attendance, but the fact that they dangle your life over your head even after battle's complete makes Elsa sick to her stomach.
So not only will she have her missing person at the games and her fighting skill to contend with, but she might have to deal with murdering people, too? She hasn't killed since the war and she doubts her fragile sanity can handle anymore than the strain already pressed upon it, but one fleeting thought of holding Anna in her arms again stops that train of thought cold.
Is it worth going to the point of no return in order to get Anna back?
She grits her teeth as her internal voice starts screaming at her, trying to kick some sense into her head. Instead of paying attention to the desperate cries, however, Elsa summons a sword of ice and tests the weight in her hand. She tries to imagine once again using those sharp edges to draw blood once more. The thought makes her pale and sick to the stomach.
But what other choice does she have?
Her voice of old starts bellowing at her, begging her to stop before it's too late; begging her to think of the kingdom she's sworn to protect; begging her to stop her self-decrementing behavior; begging her to for once think about her own plummeting well-being instead of aiding its downfall.
Begging her to stop killing herself.
Elsa pushes from her desk and exits the room.
She stopped listening to that voice a long time ago.
Pryne
Anna stands on the balcony attached to her room, her elbows resting on the elaborate marble railing as she stares out into the ocean.
The world is so much different, here.
The first thing Anna noticed upon her first arrival—other than the heat—was the sun sparkling over all the vibrate colours of the city. It was the exact opposite of the cool blues that mostly decorated Arendelle, and it was with a jolt that Anna realized that the only reminisce of home she'll ever have is what she brought with her. Now, while over four hundred golems—over three hundred of which Pryne still don't know exist—an ice 'warship'—but, again, Pryne doesn't know about those features—Leo, her protector tigers and personal effects are nice, they're not home.
Of course Anna got used to living here—not that she really had that much of a choice—but she still finds herself missing the gentle kingdom that holds traces of winter all year round, and the things she left behind.
Like Elsa.
The name grips Anna's heart with a cold, icy hand and causes the blood to drain from her face.
The stories coming out of Arendelle—from the nobles and merchants who're still allowed to travel there—are things that one might concoct after reading one too many horror novels. Most were—and still are—so bad that Anna would never have believed them if they weren't confirmed by the Royal Grace's icy helmsmen, Moira.
During one of Anna's regular trips to her ship she had brought up some of the things that she'd been hearing, wholly expecting the sarcastic, charming snow golem to bark an incredulous laugh and wave it off as foolishness. It was to her despair, then, that she was met with stony silence and Moira's jaw clenching so tightly that Anna half expected her ice to fracture.
"I can feel her." Moira had said, after a moment of the crushing silence. "She's . . . she's not in an ideal place, Anna. I'm sorry to say it, but I have no doubt that these things you've been hearing are true."
For a week after that Anna barely moved from her room, and only left when she was required for meals. Arywn—bless her soul—had fretted over the younger girl every spare moment she had away from her duties. It was endearing, but it wasn't enough to quell the sick twisting in Anna's abdomen that told her that it was all her fault.
If she had been better, smarter, would things have turned out differently?
If Elsa had gone instead of her, would she have secured peace?
If Anna had been worthy the position Elsa trusted her with, would she had been stuck in a marriage with a woman she barely knew?
The thoughts make her sick enough to want to retch.
A frown twisting on her features, Anna reaches down and subconsciously rubs the front of her left thigh, the phantom pain of the dagger that once buried itself into her thigh flaring to life. Would she have gotten this wound if she hadn't been so careless with knowledge? Part of her wishes that she could put all the blame on Arwyn, but the half-royal commodore had only been doing her job – it was Anna's fault that she released the information of her demise. Even after Arwyn admitted to knowing more about what fleet admiral Thayne was going to do then she originally let on, Anna couldn't ultimately hold her at fault.
But by the Gods, she tried.
—Flashback—
Anna's eyes, bloodshot from rage, lock on her to-be-wife's eyes. Arwyn, guilt flickering over her face, holds up her hands – silently begging Anna to calm down and listen.
"I was telling the truth when I said that I didn't know what Thayne was planning, but—knowing how he thinks and how Pryne operates—I had a pretty good idea about what sort of things he could have done. The public spectacle he ultimately settled with wasn't what I thought he might have done, but it saved your ass. If he had decided to lore you away from people, you could have been in a hell of a lot more trouble." Arwyn says, trying to make her voice as soothing as possible in an attempt to cushion the impact of her words.
"So you knew that something worse could have happened to me?" Anna snarls, taking a step towards the taller woman. "You suspected that I could have been killed, or even tortured yet you didn't once voice some sort of opinion to Thayne to discourage violent action?" Arwyn's face twists with regret.
"I couldn't let him suspect anything – if I had tried butt into his planning—something I never do, and am not allowed to do unless asked—he would have known that my loyalties were starting to shift. If that had happened,"—the officer swallows thickly—"well, you know what Pryne does to traitors."
Despite the older woman's logic, Anna grabs the scruff of Arwyn's tunic and slams the officer as hard as she can into the nearest wall, practically growling in the half-royal's face.
"If you meant what you said about not wanting me to get hurt, then you would have told me. You would have fucking told me!" Anna bellows, spittle flying from her mouth. "You wouldn't have stood around and did nothing while your commander plotted against me, knowing goddamn well that I could have been killed!"
"I didn't have a choice!" Arwyn shouts, her teeth bared. "If I had told you anything, or discretely tried to tip you off, your behaviour pattern would have changed and Thayne would have noticed it, and if he drew the origin back to me I would be dead, tortured or rotting in a fucking dungeon! Goddamn it, Anna – the only reason I wasn't tried and court-marshalled for interfering with Pryne's military conquest by ultimately helping you with the peace treaty is because you decided to marry me!"
"How do I know that that wasn't another part of some greater scheme to get an Arendale to marry into the Prathian line, huh?" Anna hisses, her lips twisting into an ugly scowl. "As Thayne had so eloquently put it: 'You know as well as I that you wouldn't have even given this treaty a second glance, let alone personal attention, unless you liked the negotiator enough to want to shove your fingers inside of her'. So please give me one reason why I should trust anything you say." Anna snarls, looking very similar to a rabid beast. Arwyn takes in Anna's livid domineer for a long couple of seconds before letting out a soft, resigned sigh; melting all of Arwyn's anger and frustration, only to be replaced by a sad, defeated smile.
"I don't have one." She whispers, a soft flicker of regret dancing in her eyes.
The commodore's unforeseen submission throws Anna for a loop, and slowly the princess's ire is replaced by confusion and her scowl replaced by a frown. Anna's grip on Arwyn's tunic loosens—but doesn't release the fabric—as she searches the older girl's eyes for something, anything to deny the truth that's pulsating off her fiancée in waves.
Only she can't.
Arwyn loves her, and she's telling the truth.
Angry, disappointed tears prick at Anna's eyes and she clenches her teeth.
"Fuck." The girl chokes, releasing the officer's tunic completely to instead cover her eyes with her hand. She doesn't even try to stop the navy soldier when she wraps Anna in her warm arms, gently rubbing circles on the small of her back as Anna weeps into her shoulder.
—Flashback End—
As much as Anna hates to admit it, Arywn made her transition into Pryne's society bearable. If it weren't for her, Anna has no doubt that the last bolt keeping her sanity in place would have fallen out. The princess consort has never told the commodore this, but, after all the times the officer helped Anna deal with night terrors and post traumatic stress, she supposes that she probably should.
Almost as if on cue, Anna hears the bedroom door open and close with a soft click – a habit the officer only adapted to not startle the princess who now shares her room. A fond smile twitches at the corners of Anna's lips upon recollection of the fact.
Arwyn silently takes her place beside Anna on the balcony and stares out at the ocean, not wanting to do anything to disturb her wife's thoughts. Anna's fond smile twitches a little wider at the woman's selfless antics, and she chuckles quietly.
"Hello to you, too." Anna says, humour dancing in her eyes. An affectionate smile spreads over Arwyn's lips, but she keeps her eyes ahead. Anna raises an eyebrow at the unusual lack of response and turns to the older woman, resting her side against the marble railing. She notices the Prynian royal is holding an official-looking piece of parchment, and her amusement fades. "I'm assuming that involves me?" Anna asks, nodding to the offending object. Arywn glances down at it, her expression unreadable.
"Yeah." The commodore breathes, sending the younger woman an uncertain smile. A frown tugs at Anna's lips.
"Is it bad?" She asks, anxiety starting to make it's familiar trek up her spine. An indecisive frown spreads over Arwyn's lips and she shrugs vaguely.
"That depends, really." She says, choosing her words carefully. Her frown deepens and her eyebrows knit together as she half turns to Anna and holds out the neatly folded piece of parchment, bearing a broken royal blue wax seal that once held it closed. Anna glances down at it, and her breath immediately hitches.
The wax has the pressed insignia of the House of Arendale.
"Elsa?" Anna chokes. This is the first thing the young queen has sent to Pryne in almost a year. Anna's eye flickers over the broken seal and her frown deepens. "Why is it open?" She asks, trying to keep the bitter accusation out of her voice. If Arwyn's apologetic smile is anything to go by, she only half succeeds.
"Because it wasn't addressed to you." Arwyn says, flipping the paper over show the addressee: King Phillip Prathian. Anna tries to ignore the disappointment that surges in her chest.
"Oh." Anna says, her face twisting in confliction. She glances up to meet Arwyn's eyes. "Why did you bring it to me?" The same unreadable expression flitters over the officer's face.
"I think it'll make more sense if you read it." Arwyn says, her words slow and carefully placed. Anna's eyebrows furrow in confusion, but she does what Arywn suggests and takes the parchment. She opens it and scans it. Her eyebrows shoot up to her hairline.
It's a short letter that reads:
I accept your invitation to the gladiator tournament.
Sincerely,
Queen Elsa of Arendelle.
Anna's first instinct is to cheer and celebrate, but Arwyn's caution in bringing this to her attention makes her pause, and in that short second she realizes just how ways this could turn sour. Swallowing thickly, Anna tentatively meets Arywn's eye.
"You think she'll make a move, don't you?"
Arwyn's jaw muscles bulge and her eyes flicker to the side, regret falling over her face so fast it makes Anna's heart hurt. When time continues to drag on with the commodore not agreeing or disagreeing—even though the answer is obvious—Anna knows that the woman is sparing her from hearing the words aloud. Although Anna wants to smile at the kind gesture, the same sick feeling she had all those months ago comes crashing back with a ferocity that makes Anna want to hurl, because somehow she knows—she fucking knows—what Elsa is capable of now.
She would raze Pryne and everyone in it to the ground without a second thought.
Suddenly she's very glad that Elsa refused to come to her wedding.
Feeling lightheaded, Anna turns fully to the railing and grips it with both hands, the parchment in her right crinkling under the princess's white-knuckle hold.
While part of Anna desperately wants to believe that Elsa would only ever have accepted her invitation if she felt as though she was mentally prepared to come and leave without incident, but another—more logical—part of her says that the past year has driven her adopted sibling to the brink of insanity. And, as much as Anna hates herself for assuming the worst, she knows Elsa will slaughter hundreds of thousands of people if she herself doesn't tread carefully.
So if something goes wrong, it'll Anna's fault. Again.
So for once in your fucking, worthless life, try to get this right. Anna cringes at her internal voice, but she can't find it within herself to deny it. Why would she? The voice is right.
The stupid fucking thing is always right.
"What do you want me to do?" Anna asks with a soft, fragile voice.
She's so lost in her mind that she physically starts when Arwyn is suddenly flush against her back, with her arms wrapped around the younger girl's waist. The commodore sighs gently and buries her head into the crook of Anna's neck.
"I want you to stop beating yourself up." Arwyn whispers, nuzzling closer to the woman in her arms. A bitter, self decrementing smile slides over Anna's lips, but instead of arguing an issue she's sure to lose, she says:
"What sort of measures do you think I should take during the tournament? I mean, Elsa is liable to shatter if I'm not careful." Anna feels Arwyn frown against her skin, obviously disapproving of Anna's redirection, but lets it slide nonetheless.
"I think that you would be a better judge of that than anyone else – you're the one who grew up with her. Just . . . play it by ear. Oh,"—Arwyn says, suddenly—"I almost forgot – Phillip wants you to wear a dress for the formal banquet." Anna guffaws, half in amusement and half in relief at the topic change.
"Does he ever let up? I'm not wearing one of those dreadfully un-tactical things, no matter what the occasion is. Besides, I don't see anything wrong with my regular wardrobe."
Anna's regular wardrobe is literally almost exactly the same as it was while she was in Arendelle, from the ice blue, the engraved snowflakes, the style and even down to the detail of always rolling her sleeves up past her elbows. Her formalwear isn't that much better, either – not only is it ice blue with royal blue trimming and engraved silver snowflakes, it's also her Arendelle formal military attire. Also, on a silver chain that rarely ever leaves her neck, is a silver ring with an engraved snowflake – the ring Elsa had proposed to her with.
Honestly, the only thing she wears that shows her loyalty to Pryne is the golden sash she always has tied around her waist.
Arywn chuckles against Anna's neck.
"Sure." She drawls. Anna can practically hear the older woman rolling her eyes. Barking a laugh, Anna turns in Arwyn's arms and—dropping the parchment—threads her fingers through the hair falling out of the woman's bun—Anna doesn't understand why it never stays in place—and pulls the officer in, melting their lips together.
Anna admits that she still feels guilty every time she falls into her wife, as if she's somehow betraying Elsa in a relationship that can never be—no matter how much they loved each other; still love each other—but another part of her needs the human contact. She can't even dispel her guilt by saying that it's an expected part of their relationship—like it had been on their wedding night—because it's simply not true.
On their wedding night Anna didn't want Arwyn to touch her; everything was still too fresh for her to allow it in good conscious. Much to Anna's surprise, Arwyn had agreed without question – but said that there were people outside the door listening to making sure they 'did the deed', so she prompted the new princess consort to masturbate and make a lot of noise. Anna had agreed, naturally, and the two got through the night without ever touching each other; even though Anna suspects that Arwyn was just as happy watching the younger woman fall apart beside her.
Since then the half-royal has grown on the princess. She can't go as far as to say that she loves the commodore, because she doesn't, but it's a learned affection that she takes solace in. It'll never match the passion and heart-bursting love she had with Elsa, but it's the best substitute she could have ever hoped for.
Part of her hopes that Elsa is seeing someone else, even if it's only meaningless physical entanglements to fill the gaping hole Anna left behind, but Anna knows Elsa too well for that. As much as she desperately wants to believe otherwise, she knows that Elsa is alone – and it crushes her insides to dust thinking about it because she doesn't know how much longer Elsa can stay sane without it.
Then again, that's the question, isn't it?
Is Elsa still sane?
Bile rising in her throat, Anna forcibly shoves Elsa from her mind and starts pushing Arwyn into the room, towards the bed.
"I have,"—Arwyn tries, only to be cut off by a kiss—"to go back,"—another kiss—"to work." Arywn groans, pulling Anna's hips into hers despite her words. Anna smirks and grinds into the older woman. A low moan rumbles in the commodore's throat, and her eyelids flitter just enough for Anna to notice.
"No you don't." Anna says, as if her word settles everything; and they do. The moment their heated lips connect again, Anna knows that Arwyn isn't going anywhere.
Anna pushes Arwyn back into the bed but, before she climbs on top of her, she chances a glance to May and Lila who sit on either side of the door, diligently guarding it. Lila meets the girl's split-second gaze, and a lump lodges in her throat at what she sees in those snowy eyes.
Understanding. Support. Loyalty. Regret. Shame.
Apology.
Since when had her guardians blamed themselves for the predicament Anna got herself into?
Anna ignores this heart-wrenching thought and lets herself fall and melt into her wife.
She doesn't want to think about how many people she hurt due to her carelessness. Not right now.
Not ever.
A/N: I really wanted to delve into the alternate storyline I had mentioned without getting into the trap of a multi-chapter story, so I decided to do this little one-shot. I'm open to do more based in this universe (if your request follows the brief alternate storyline I gave you at the end of When the Knocking Starts it Never Stops, because I actually have a rough outline of events for this thing), but I'll only do it upon your insistence.
So you know, if you want me to continue, I'm warning you that it will be depressing as shit (this chapter won't even be able to hold a candle to it). That said, if you guys like this enough that you insist upon not only additional chapters but an ending as well, I'll make it as satisfyingly happy as I can safely manage - it'd be the least I can do after ripping your hearts out a dozen times over.