Ribbons and Braids

By Kysra

I: Brushing Out the Kinks

When it was all over and everything was summer again, Anna found herself separated from her sister again to be "observed" because – apparently, being frozen into solid ice might just be bad for one's overall health. (But she had come BACK, right? That should count for something.)

It was a minor comfort that Kristoff barely left her side (modesty did have to be preserved after all . . . at least that's what Anna kept telling herself through the temptation to try and make Kristoff's blush just that much stronger). Her soul was a little more soothed when Elsa had come to check on her in the midst of more queenly pursuits.

Anna could appreciate that Elsa was super busy doing super ruler-y type things, considering the people's fears of another . . . ahem incident occurring needed to be assuaged and there was the issue of dealing with Hans (that simpering, lying, low-life, son of a -) who was currently enjoying a lovely meal of bread and water in the dungeon . . . not to mention the Duke of Weasletown and any other dignitaries that might be just a wee miffed at what had transpired the last few days and, and the crops (Anna wasn't a botanist by any stretch of the imagination but she was pretty darn sure a sudden freeze in the middle of what was generally a mild growing season wasn't a good thing) and . . . well, simply said, Elsa had a lot on her plate.

And she was probably oh so tired at this time of night.

But Anna was oh so lonely for her sister, and just wanted to be sure . . . Elsa wouldn't begrudge her a little quality sister time just because she was two days into queen-dom and had managed to really, really, really potentially muck up her image with the general populace.

Besides the sky was awake, so that meant Anna was awake and now that the door wasn't locked (it had better not be, darn it), Elsa should be too.

Still . . .

Though she was just a tad unsure, Anna's five-point knock was confident, loud, and precise. The waiting was clumsy, shuffled, and filled with sighs.

The door never opened. Not even after a good fifteen minutes . . . Anna wilted just a bit before pivoting on a heel and –

"Anna?" There was Elsa, glittering in the twilight moon like some kind of ice goddess in her ice dress and her white hair and her blue eyes and wait –

"Els – I mean, Your Majes – I mean . . . W-what are you doing out here?" Anna was positive she had heard Elsa tell Kai she was retiring for the night.

Elsa's expression was enigmatic – part shrewd, part . . . something else, maybe a little guilty? "I was about to ask you the same." Then, a sigh, shoulders that had been up to here relaxed to a normal posture. "I was working on some things in the library. Would you like to go in?"

It took Anna a moment to process that Elsa meant "go into my room," another to comprehend that Elsa was inviting her. The smile that overcame her face must have been miles wide.

Elsa almost looked terrified.

Anna stepped into her sister's room for the first time in forever (or thirteen years) and stopped. It was nothing like she remembered it . . . but then it wouldn't, right? After all, the room Anna remembered was that of an eight year old. The space before her now, was that of a grown woman – one with very defined tastes, mostly for deep blues, mauve, taupe, and painted waterscapes.

Elsa sighed heavily as she kicked off her shoes and padded over to her vanity. She lit two lanterns before pouring two cups of (warm? cold? No steam in sight so . . . ) tea from a gilt tea service sitting between a well-used brush and an assortment of ribbons. She paused as she took up the sugar, glancing at Anna, uncertain, "I'm not sure how you usually take your tea . . . " A shy laugh, "I even forgot to ask if you would like some in the first place."

Anna smiled and stepped closer to her sister, almost disbelieving that she was in this room, this close, and speaking! to the elusive blonde, "Tea sounds nice and four teaspoons please . . . with cream."

Elsa's nose scrunched up in distaste but prepared the tea as she was bid. They seated themselves on the bed in awkward but companionable silence for a few moments before Elsa gave the younger a pointed look, "Not that I'm not grateful you wanted to visit me after the . . . adventure you just had; but I'm stumped as to why you would be here at this time of night."

"Oh . . . well," nervous hands pulled at loose strands of hair, "I mean . . . Am I bothering you? Of course, I must be. You're probably really tired and I didn't see you eat tonight and unless you hunted a bear after making that ice palace – because, seriously Elsa, that was AMAZING – to eat it or . . . something cuz everything was frozen you know and there wasn't any food there and wow, you have to be famished! I know I was, and –"

"Anna?"

"Wait, what?"

Elsa's smile was just as calm and gentle as Mother's used to be. It quieted the jumbled knot of feelings and words coiled in Anna's stomach. "You're not bothering me. I'm glad you're here."

"Oh." Anna felt a little thrill, blushed and looked down to her hands clasped in the material of her nightdress. It felt sort of like those few pleasant words they had shared at the coronation ball . . . before Hans, before the engagement, before asking for Elsa's blessing and all that came after. "I just wanted to . . . have a little sister time."

Elsa sipped her tea sedately, smiling that soft smile. "Well, one thing I missed all these years was brushing each other's hair . . . "

Jaw dropping into an unlady-like gape, Anna exclaimed, "Seriously? Me too! I remember you used to sing some ridiculous songs and you always weaved ribbons into my hair because –"

"I wanted the colors of your inside to be reflected on the outside." Elsa's tea cup clinked hollowly as she placed it on the matching saucer. Anna watched as her sister shifted off the bed to walk over to the vanity, place the spent tea cup there, and turn the chair toward Anna. "Shall I, mademoiselle?"

Anna giggled, feeling all the nervous tension she had been holding release with the sound. She had been so afraid that despite everything, Elsa would decide to hide away again, that Anna would never really know her sister . . . that she would be shut out for the rest of her (reclaimed) life.

Taking care with the half-cup of tea, Anna follows, deposits the cup on the vanity, sits in the chair, unable to stop the near-crazed look of happiness on her face as Elsa took up the brush and began pulling it through the loose vibrant red strands. "Thank you, Elsa."

Her sister merely tugged softly on a lock of hair before lifting her voice in a song about ribbons and braids, wayward sisters and scoundrels, and love that thaws even the coldest of hearts.