I

Beneath the Envious Moon

A sky full of stars reigned above the kingdom of Arendelle. They burned overhead like the countless sparkles in the eyes of lovers, and cast pale light into the chambers of the Snow Queen, carefully lining the carpeted floor with straight lines and shadows. It was the cool of night, like an afterthought of winter's embrace, and Elsa was humming softly as she attended to every detail of her appearance, looking into the crystal clarity of the mirror before her, yet letting her eyes drift back and forth to the shadows. The magic surged and glowed across her milky white skin, sometimes causing the blue material of her dress to leave the whole of her back bare, a playful glimmer in her eyes as she tested how low she could cast it before she drew a reaction from the shadows. While commanding the mood, she suffered a heavy blush on her cheeks as she played, moving her arms and hands in coordination with her magic to never let too much show to the shadows or the mirror, even as she was just as engrossed with the game as the subject of her tease.

After letting the atmosphere become dangerously heated, the young queen went back to the matter at hand. Letting out a short breath, she resigned the game and caused her dress to change once more, making the sleeves run longer and the collar grow up her neck. Delicate loops slipped around her middle fingers and drew the sleeves tightly across her arms, while the slit in the skirt completely sealed up, making it far less practical and oppressive, yet reflected the pensive thoughts that churned behind her scrutinizing eyes.

In deference to the diversion they had just enjoyed and in light of the obligations she had as queen, she felt inclined to cover up as much as possible.

"How does this look?" she asked, flaring her arms out.

The shadow's response was delayed as two pale eyes caught errant slivers of moonlight, showing that while he was trying to fulfill his duty as her fashion advisor and had previously been engrossed by her game, his mind had suddenly been somewhere else.

"An unfortunate revision," Yasha replied, settling down and letting out a quiet sigh, "Yet it does not matter what length you wear it, or the shape of the seam. You are beautiful, and will unavoidably take their breath away."

"Don't think you can sweet talk your way out of this. I really need to know how it looks. This is an important reception," she complained, frowning at the thought of the impending gathering in the great hall. It had been so abrupt and so vague that she barely even knew how to respond. All she knew was that the regent had insisted she come, and that she dress appropriately.

She didn't know exactly what he meant by the second part.

He began watching her fidget, her dress changing to any number of lengths, though not as playful as before. She was now taking this serious, which enforced a polite silence on him. He didn't quite understand her mood, but found renewed interest in the flashes of her white skin, the way her red lips twisted and pouted, and the turmoil in her blue eyes. This spell of charming desperation made her whimper and groan, and he found himself entranced by every moment of it.

"If you would like my true opinion, I would advise that you wear it as a queen should," he suddenly suggested.

"Oh? And how exactly should a queen wear it?" she asked with a smirk.

"Any way she sees fit," he replied.

His practical suggestion made her sigh. "That's not very helpful."

After another spate of anxiously trying to adjust the dress and painfully examining every aspect of her appearance, she was settled on a more formal neckline and sleeves, once more feeling a pit in her stomach as she thought of the regent's warning. He was usually so straightforward with her. This vague reference to her appearance made her nervous, and she even considered putting her hair back up into a bun, though even just lifting her braid back up reminded her of the person she once was. She felt she had come too far to step backwards.

"I'm really not looking forward to this. For some reason, I have a bad feeling," she admitted as she knit her hands in front of her to try and give off a practiced, regal appearance.

The person she saw in the mirror made her frown.

"Then do not go," he said, once more offering a simplified solution to her problem.

"I can't do that," she frowned, "This is the regent."

"And you are the queen," he reminder her.

Elsa sighed again. "Try to understand, Yasha. Regent Stenson is one of Arendelle's most trusted nobles, and my closest advisor. He was my father's best friend and steward of the kingdom until I came of age. He's also one of the few that knew about my powers from the beginning. I can't refuse his request," she explained, feeling the weight of her own words.

Incensed by her continuing anxiety, he grunted softly and stepped out from the shadows, emerging into the starlight and leaning back against the frame of her balcony doors. His eyes wandered out to the kingdom beyond as his head rested against the wood. "A shame. Had you done so, I would have been able to refuse as well," he mused.

Elsa gasped. That was something she hadn't been aware of. "The regent invited you?"

"He did," Yasha replied, looking back to the confusion in her face. It only reassured him that the dread they shared wasn't just his imagination. His instincts appeared to be correct. "I am as surprised as you are. I do not know why they want an outsider to attend."

She frowned. It was easy to get dragged into an argument about his place in Arendelle, and she was already too troubled to make an enemy of him. Instead, she played the paramour and walked over, wanting to placate his concerns, but also be close for a moment. "Maybe it's a good sign. Maybe they're starting to see you not as an outsider, but as someone that belongs in here," she offered with a smile, "Like I do."

"I wish I shared your expectations of the world," he remarked solemnly.

Sensing his slipping mood, she stepped closer and took his hands, feeling his warmth. For a moment, she mused at how her past self would have reacted to the scene, when she hated him and fought him and nearly killed him. Now, she couldn't imagine a day without him, and marveled at the effect his simple touch had on her, for it felt like it could defeat even her strongest magic, even as he no longer had the benefit of the FireHeart. "I know this has been hard recently, but it won't always be this way. The day will come when we don't have to hide behind curtains and slip through cracked doors," she said, smiling softly and trying to help him imagine such a beautiful world, "Someday, we'll be able to be together in the way we want, without the whispers and without the talk."

"Now, I also wish for your reveries," he replied, though he visibly relaxed at the attention. Her smile warmed as she saw him give in, and she slowly stretched up to kiss him softly across his cheek.

"Be patient," she whispered, "You're not the only one who wants this without any strings attached. I'm the queen. I'll figure out how to make it work."

His pale gray eyes stayed on her, searching her for the source of her confidence. Despite the many skills he wielded and the vast experience he had of living in the cold world, being in love with her in a kingdom that wouldn't allow it was like nothing he had ever been prepared for. Kings and princes of countless kingdoms flowed through Arendelle's port, each making a case to claim the elusive hand of the infamous Snow Queen. Whispers flowed of an unwed queen, with currents constantly pulling her away from him, despite his own royal bloodline from a king he despised. Somewhere in her kingdom, cast strongly behind shadows and closed doors, were endless excuses why they couldn't be together, leaving them to nurture the love they found on the path to the FireHeart in secret, known only to a very few.

Yet their love burned brightly in spite of the crusade against them.

Despite the impending engagement, Yasha fanned his hand across her back and pulled her closer, wanting to deny the tyrannical world a bit longer. Just the simple act made her heart race and offer little resistance, with her arms tucked in tight and her fingers playing over the line of his chin. Her blue eyes appealed to him, but she knew it wasn't the time to be losing themselves in the moment they had found.

"We have to go, before you tempt me anymore to ignore the regent's invitation," she said hotly, patting him softly across the shoulders and hoping he would be strong enough to let her go.

"It is only one reception. Who would notice our absence?" he replied, though she wasn't sure if he was being playful or serious, as both prospects made it nearly impossible to tear away from his arms. She would have gladly incurred the wrath of the regent if it meant spending a quiet night with him, though the anxiety she had for the evening lingered and reminded her of the importance of her attendance.

For some reason, she felt she had to be there.

"Go," she ordered, then returned his playful mood with a weak smile of her own, "Before I call my guards and tell them there's a kidnapper in my chambers."

The call to his criminal past made him smirk slightly, but ultimately loosen his arms with a reserved breath, disappointed by his own failure to seduce her. "Yes, my queen," he relented, giving in to the false demands and backing out onto her balcony, their hands sliding slowly away. She watched as he vaulted himself up onto the stone railing, standing inches from the sheer drop the rocky fjord below, his feet scraping over the stony edge.

As it always did, seeing him standing there made her breath stutter, and she once more felt the utter terror that he should fall.

"Yasha," she suddenly blurted and it made him turn.

At once, she remembered that he had disappeared over that cliff many times, taking the secret path that only he knew, only to return again to her the next time she longed for him. That security made a smile finally break through her troubles, and she gave him the most alluring look.

"Don't be late."

He knew this wasn't a warning about the reception, but for the time after the kingdom would fall asleep and give them those few quiet moments when they could be together. His eyes affectionately upon her, he repeated himself, though her heart fluttered at the echo, and she marveled how he could project so much more depth on the exact same melody of words.

"Yes, my queen."

He suddenly stepped back and fell into the night, becoming nothing more than wind that gusted through her now lonely chambers. Once more, she felt the overwhelming desire to run over and see how he managed to escape her secluded balcony, but she stayed where she was, leaving him his secrets and the way they made her heart race. One day, she would find out how he reached the most guarded place in the castle with such ease.

For the moment, she was satisfied that he knew how to return.

The chiming of the clock in her room signaled that she had to leave as well, and her hands went to grab the handles of her balcony doors and pull them shut against the cool night.

Pausing, she smiled and let her fingers slip away from them.

Leaving the doors wide open, Elsa turned and left her chambers, heading towards the reception and feeling her premonitions fall away to the fond thoughts she was having about him, and the night they would share after her duties had finally been attended to. As she walked over the crossing lines cast by the starlight through the plated windows of her castle, she was lost in the memory of her waiting shadow, singing quietly to herself, and utterly unaware of just how pervasive the forces were that were already in motion to break them apart.