A/N: A huge thank you to candied-dreams for allowing me to use her snowfae!AU, lending me her original notes (even if I didn't end up using them), letting me use one of her drawings as cover art and being a general joy collaborating with. If only to check out her gorgeous drawings related to this AU, check her out on tumblr.
This piece was originally going to be my submission for the Elsanna Secret Santa, but I very much refused to post this as anon, so I've decided to dedicate this piece to someone else instead. And that person is *drum roll* Wolf Brigade, the author of Toy Swords and Saltwater Kisses and Kill of the Night. Check her out on FFnet, A03 and tumblr. (Do it. I dare you.)
"Well that's dumb," Anna scoffs, munching away on her carrot. Elsa, unable to speak in her wolf form, tilts her head and raises an eyebrow. An unamused eyebrow, at that. "Oh, don't give me that look," Anna says, waving her carrot for emphasis. "Can you even see what I'm referring to?" Anna pauses, ignoring the wolf's unimpressed stare. "Is it just me, or are you getting fat?"
Elsa snarls, bearing her canines. Anna laughs, bits of orange spraying from her mouth before she kneels in the snow and nuzzles her forehead against the young fae's. Well, youngish. Anna doesn't understand how four hundred some years classifies as youngish, but she supposes being mortal makes her biased.
"I'm just kidding," the redhead murmurs. "You're still as perfect as the day I met you." The fact that Elsa had tried to rip her throat out that day is irrelevant. It's not like Anna was smart enough to realize approaching a wild animal with a axe was a bad idea.
Well that's not entirely true, Anna amends, standing and continuing her trudge through the woods. Like a moron I had forgot the thing was in my hands. Now that she thinks of it, she didn't end up chopping up any wood that day like she had planned. She hasn't found her axe, either.
"You're thinking again," Elsa says. Anna jumps, smacking into a tree. Elsa's eyes widen, her pointed ears twitching forward in concern. "Are you okay?" she asks, her feet shuffling in indecision.
Anna groans, eyes screwed shut as she rubs her head and shakes out her injured arm. "A little warning would have been nice," she says, hissing as her mitted hand grazes a bruise. "Or not scaring me at all," Anna mutters, "that would have been nice, too." She glances at the ground. Her eyes widen. "My carrot!" she cries, scooping up the vegetable and dusting off the snow with the upmost care. She examines it, before nodding firmly. "Still good," the redhead declares, taking a bite with a satisfying crunch.
Elsa stares on, confused. She's been 'hanging out' with this human on and off for the past few months, and she's no closer to understanding modern human quirks than she was when she first began. Not that a few short months are notable with her lifespan, but she's always prided herself in being a fast learner.
The fault, therefore, must be with Anna.
Although 'fault' isn't the right word to use, Elsa corrects, following the muttering redhead as she starts walking again. Anna is more of a . . . pleasant anomaly. Carefree. Willingly disconnected from the others of her species, the creatures Elsa's parents—if nature can be considered as such—so venomously warned her about. She pauses at the thought of the icy mountain that gave her form. She wonders if it is how it was when she left, or if it, too, has been defaced by humanity's expansion.
The chatter of Olaf, Elsa's lesser fae companion, along with an indignant squawk form Anna pulls Elsa's attention from her thoughts. She laughs when her eyes are greeted by Anna pin wheeling and Olaf clinging to Anna's toque for dear life. Shaking her head, Elsa walks forward and plucks her friend from his perch and plops him in the white fur hood of her cloak.
"I would appreciate you not scaring Olaf," Elsa says. Anna glares at her.
"Scare Olaf?" the redhead admonishes. "He scared me. Is this a joint effort to frighten me into an early grave? Is it 'gang up on Anna' day? Because you could have warned me!" Elsa laughs again, harder than before. Anna stomps her foot. "Not funny!" she fumes, flushing crimson and stomping away.
"Anna, wait," Elsa calls, trying her hardest not to cackle when, without looking back, Anna flips her the bird. "Let's be mature about this," she tries again, being sure to keep an acceptable distance between them even though she could close it in seconds.
Anna spins, her cheeks flushed for a reason other than the cold. "I'll be mature when you and your ferret stop trying to kill me!" she shouts.
Elsa nearly doubles over, laughter exploding from her lips with more force than she thought was possible.
"Shut up!" Anna demands, hiding her glowing face from the nose down with her scarf. "Do you want to get charged with second-hand manslaughter? Then keep it up, this is how you do it!" She glances away, muttering, "At the rate you're going you'll make my heart give out before nightfall."
Elsa collapses into the snow, howling. She beats her hand into the ground in mercy, sending snow spraying around her.
Burning red from her chest to the tips of her ears, Anna spins and stalks away. "Brat," she mutters, unable to stop her flush from spreading when Elsa's laughter continues on, her sparkling voice echoing through the otherwise silent forest. Anna had always admired how far sounds could echo in the past, but right now it's not doing her any favours.
She can still hear faint cackling when she reaches her cabin, so she kicks the snow off her boats in haste and scrambles into her home. She chucks her gloves, jacket and toque onto the table, running frustrated fingers through her bangs when her embarrassed flush refuses to go away.
"Damn it," she swears, kicking her boots near the fire and wiggling out of her snow pants, finding themselves with the same mistreatment.
Anna walks to the kitchen and turns on the kettle. She pulls a cup and a package of hot chocolate powder from the cupboard. If her body insists in staying flushed, she might as well make sure it's for a reason she actually appreciates.
A musical knock sounds on the front door.
"Go away," Anna snaps, not quite ready to forgive the fae or her pet for almost scaring her into an early grave.
The door opens despite her words, but when she spins to chew Elsa out, she feels the words catch in her throat. The fae, an unsure smile marring her lips, is sprinkled head to toe in snow, and there's a affectionate glow in her eyes that makes Anna's mouth run dry.
Anna sighs and slumps into one of the dining room chairs, crossing her arms on the table and using them as a pillow for her forehead. Does Elsa even know how easily she makes Anna's heart stutter? Even on the day they met the fae had taken the redhead's breath away, and that was before Anna learnt the wolf was just a persona.
Anna pauses and props her chin on her arms, casting a thoughtful look in Elsa's direction. The fae, still standing by the entrance, tilts her head and stares on with curious eyes, ears twitching forward. Anna smiles, her chest warming at the sight.
All those months ago Anna never would have guessed that that powerful, snarling wolf had a soft underbelly. Even now the redhead can recall the how Elsa's muscles had rippled under her fur, how her hackles raised and how spittle had dripped from her teeth. Anna had been memorized, and if she hadn't heard Olaf's helpless cries she wouldn't have been able to shake it.
Never one to let an animal suffer, Anna had walked toward the sound without thought that maybe the little creature was exactly what the wolf was defending. The next thing Anna knew she was flat on her back, axe out of reach and staring into furious blue eyes.
'Don't hurt me,' Anna had rasped, her eyes wide and her body trembling with fear. 'I'm sorry,' she'd pleaded, tears welling in her eyes when the wolf snapped its teeth in her face. 'I just wanted to help,' she'd said, tears leaking from her eyes as she squeezed them shut. 'I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.'
Fingers snapping in front of her face drags Anna back to the present and she blinks, Elsa's furrowed face narrowing into focus.
"Are you okay?" the fae asks, her body twitching with restrained instincts. "I lost you there for a moment."
Anna smiles and sits up, tapping her own forehead with a finger in offering. Relief floods Elsa's face and she steps forwards, nuzzling their temples together like wolves often do.
"You didn't lose me," Anna breathes, her heart pounding harder than it should at the show of affection. "I was thinking about how we met." She smiles, nudging her nose into Elsa's cheek when the fae shifts uneasily. "I'm glad you didn't eat me."
"It's a hard thing to do when your prey is weeping and refusing to fight back," Elsa murmurs, not proud of her behaviour.
Anna shrugs, pulling back when she hears the kettle click off. "I think it's more like I forgot I was capable of fighting back," she admits. "I had a lot of conflicting emotions battling for my attention at the time."
Elsa nods and sits on the table, her eyebrows refusing to untangle. "What was the emotion that prevailed in the end?" she asks, words slow, uncertain. Like she doesn't want to know.
Anna smiles, laying a warm hand on Elsa's icy gown covered knee. "I couldn't believe I was being pinned to the ground by the most gorgeous creature I had ever seen."
Elsa chokes and sputters on her own spit. Anna laughs, patting the fae's leg before getting up and trotting to the counter.
"Does this mean you don't want to do it again?" Anna teases, preparing her drink. Elsa starts outright hacking, making Anna cackle. Oh, revenge is sweet.
But that whole 'pin me down' scenario? That'd be sweet, too.
"Hello, Olaf," the redhead murmurs, feeling the little ferret climbing her pants. A moment later Olaf is curling himself on the top of her head. 'Looks like Olaf found a new perch' Elsa had said the first time he did it. She wasn't kidding.
"Do you really . . . want to be underneath me?"
Elsa's proximity shocks Anna, a jolt shivering down her spine when the fae's breath tickles her ear. And while Anna would like nothing more despite Elsa lack of subtlety . . .
"Not with Olaf here," Anna mutters, her flush from earlier returning with a vengeance.
Elsa laughs, its musical lilts making Anna smile. The fae playfully bumps her shoulder with the redhead.
"We're not even the same species, you know," Elsa says, her tone sobering. Anna shrugs.
"It's not like anyone from my species is a viable option." The moment she says it, she wishes she could take it back. She turns to Elsa, hands up in a pacifying motion. "That's not what I meant," Anna says, trying to extinguish the hurt in the fae's eyes. "I'm not going after you because you're the only one around. I don't work like that, I—" she sighs. "I never told you why I moved up here, away from civilization." She gestures around her. "I'm not going to get into it now, but I will say that the solitude and being alone ninety percent of the time was more appealing then what I left behind. When I came here I had fully accepted the fact that I wouldn't find anyone who struck my fancy, and I was okay with that. Again, what I left behind—" she winces. "Relationships of any sort were no longer appealing to me," Anna says instead. "But then you came along and I . . ." she swallows, her fingers trembling. I got confused, because I don't want to risk losing anybody else.
Elsa's eyes widen and she pulls Anna into a tight hug. "There's no need to be scared," the fae breathes, her reassuring tone taking away some of the anxious jitters in Anna's stomach.
"I think there's a need for both of us to be scared," Anna admits. "Not because of society—if I cared what anyone else thought I wouldn't be here—but because of us, specifically." The redhead pulls back from the embrace. "Even if we throw all our current emotions to the side, there's still a stark reality that we have to face." Anna pauses here, letting out a shaky exhale. "You live longer than I do," she whispers, absently fiddling with the snowflake clasp keeping Elsa's pelt cloak secure around her shoulders. "While that'd be mildly bad for me, you're the one who'd have to watch me grow old and die. I don't want to be that selfish."
Not for the first time, Elsa gives Anna a look; one Anna knows is the fae's 'what is this human nonsense' expression.
"And?" Elsa asks, looking like she doesn't understand the predicament.
Anna cups the fae's cheeks. "Elsa," she starts, cautious, "you'd have to watch me die."
Once again, Elsa gives her that look. Under her breath she mutters something Anna barely hears, but leaves her blinking nonetheless.
'Human's are so stupid' is what the redhead thinks she heard. What the hell does Elsa know that Anna doesn't?
Knock, knock, knock-knock.
Anna nearly swears. Out of all the freak'n days that stupid idiot—
The redhead sighs. "Want to go wolf?" she asks, dragging her feet towards the door. "Unless you want to meet Hans properly this time instead of pinning him face-first into the snow."
Elsa shrugs, unapologetic. "I sensed you were uncomfortable around him and sought to aid you in stopping any chances at physical closeness," she says. Anna laughs.
"I haven't had many visitors since moving up here," the human explains. "Old friend or not, I was bound to feel like my privacy was being invaded." In lieu of an answer, Anna turns to see a smug looking wolf staring back at her. "Little turkey," Anna chortles, unable to stop herself from kneeling and scooping her friend—more than friend?—into a hug, running her fingers through Elsa's fur. Anna watches the silk strands pass through her fingers, marvelling at how soft they are. Elsa shuffles forward and sits down, her front paws hooking around Anna's back as best as they can, and she rubs her muzzle against the back of Anna's neck, a light growl of approval rumbling in her throat. Anna laughs.
God, how can Elsa be so perfect without even trying?
"Hello?" Hans calls, opening the scarcely-locked door and stepping inside. His face flushes with a mix of bewilderment and fright when his eyes fall on the intimate embrace a stone throw to his right. He clears his throat, feeling uncomfortable and unwelcome all at once. "I see you two have become more . . . friendly, since the last time I was here," he says, careful of his wording.
"Fuck off," Anna grumbles. The wolf growls in agreement, her pupils narrowing to pinpricks as she snarls at the man.
Hans shifts, recalling the last time he invaded Anna's space – or, as Hans' come to calling it, the wolf's 'territory.' Evidently that territory has grown since last he's been here, and he chides himself for it. Anna herself seems none the wiser that a wolf has all but outright claimed her—as a misguided mating instinct or something else he can't be sure—and he failed in his duty as her friend to warn her of its appearance sooner.
Olaf, the little ferret the wolf—he refuses to call her by name—regards as kin, chatters adamantly at him from the top of Anna's head. The wolf flicks her gaze to the tiny animal, an odd expression flitting through her eyes.
The tall man swallows, deciding that he's willing to risk the wolf's wrath to get his point across to Anna. It's not like the animal will know what he's saying unless the shorter redhead reacts less than favourably.
"Anna," he says, shutting the door to buy himself time. "Are you sure it's healthy for you to allow yourself to be courted by a wolf?"
The wolf's eyes narrow, but Anna laughs. She separates from the unconventional hug and stands to face him, much to Hans' relief.
"I hardly believe a wolf is capable of courting a human," Anna says, elusive amusement dancing in her tone that makes the wolf snort. Anna sends the wild animal a bratty smirk in response.
"Owls in captivity have been known to regard their owner as their mates when deprived of company from their own species," Hans states, matter-of-factly. "It's not a stretch to assume the same can apply to other predators." Anna shrugs off his concern, making the redheaded man's chest burn with bitter intensity.
"I understand why you left," Hans says, voice tight, "and I don't blame you, but I doubt your parents would approve of bestiality."
Anna's eyes flash in the same moment the wolf snaps her teeth, a snarl curling back the animal's lips to reveal anxiety-inducing canines.
The redhead points to the door, gritting her teeth. "Get out," she spits.
Hans' head snaps back. "What?" he sputters. He was only trying to warn her— "You can't be serious Anna," he pleads, cutting off his own thoughts. "I only want what's best for you. I trusted you – Kristoff trusted you when you said that meant moving up here, but you have to understand that I can't stand idly by while you—"
"Don't finish that sentence," Anna interrupts, a disturbed frown marring her lips as she holds up a shaky hand in a halting motion. The wolf, strangely enough, appears just as perturbed. "I don't— no. Just no." Anna pinches the bridge of her nose, taking a steadying breath. The wolf nudges the girl's leg with her snout, and the redhead murmurs an automatic 'I'm alright' in response, as if this type of interaction happens all the time between them.
Hans clenches his fists at the sight, swallowing his urge to berate his friend on comforting a wild animal. On the tip on Hans' lips is the urge to ask if Anna's only doing this to fill the gaping hole created by the loss of her parents, but he's unwilling to stoop so low. He wouldn't want that topic broached so callously if their positions were reversed.
"Anna," he tries again, his eyes and tone softening. "I admit that your . . . companion, being female reduces the risk of certain things happening if you decide to go that route, but that doesn't mean she isn't subjected to the same possessive, animalistic instincts." Hans clears and throat, an awkward lump having formed there at having to talk about this at all, to Anna no less. "If you feel you can handle it or you want to deal with this on your own then I won't dissuade you," he says, a vice clamping is vocal cords at the unwilling submission. "But remember that Kristoff and I are just a half a day's walk away if—" his voice cracks. He clears his throat. "If something goes wrong."
A peculiar expression has befallen on Anna's features and she regards him, searching. "Just like that?" she asks, as if not quite believing his declaration. Hans smiles, but there's no humour to it.
"I know better than most how unmoveable you are once you set your mind to something," Hans explains. "When you get like this I've learned that it's better for you to go through the motions in full, for better or for worse." He shuffles from one foot to the other. "But I hope you don't mind if Kristoff and I set up a schedule of one of us checking in with you every week, instead of every month or so."
Anna shrugs. "Okay," she agrees. She doesn't mind either man's company, and she has been feeling rather isolated the last couple of weeks.
Hans smiles and, while still tense, it's more at ease then before. "Good," he breathes. He points to the door, uncomfortable. "Do you . . . still want me to leave?"
The shorter woman snorts and she shakes her head, grinning as she steps forward and punches him in the shoulder. "No, stupid," she chides, laughing. "Take off your shit and sit down; I'll make you some hot chocolate to unfreeze your cold, dead heart."
Hans barks a surprised laugh and dips into a small bow. "How considerate of you, your highness."
Anna snorts and smacks the man upside the head, trotting back to the kettle and her own cooling hot chocolate. She takes the kettle to the sink to fill it with water. "You can take a seat in the living room whenever your royal ducheness decides to fall off his high horse."
Hans bursts into laughter, muffled by his jacket as he finishes pulling it over his head. "And be on the same level as snakes and spiders?" he gasps, throwing a hand over his heart. "How scandalous!"
The redhead raises an eyebrow and sends her friend a pointed look. "Spiders and snakes can climb trees and get into buildings, you know." she teases. She strains her ears to hear the man's response, laughing when it's yeah, don't freak'n remind me.
Anna decides then and there that she misses her friends more than she realized, and her heart pings. Elsa glances at her, sending her a worried look, but the redhead sends her a calm smile. It's nothing a couple days visit to the village can't assuage.
The redhead knows she'll move back eventually—she's too much of a social creature not to—but she's unwilling to have Elsa's attentions split between her and others. Call it jealousy or selfishness, but Anna wants— needs to be Elsa's sole human interaction, just until the death of her parents scars over more. She likes that Elsa doesn't know because it means the fae doesn't give her the look, the one everyone in mourning dreads because it never goes away. Even ten years down the road she'll get the look whenever anyone finds out.
Is it so bad that she wants Elsa to be in blissful ignorance for a little while longer?
Elsa's head bumps her leg and Anna blinks, glancing down into the wolf's concerned blue eyes. Anna hefts a little sigh, knowing she got caught up in her thoughts again, which probably means she had her thousand-meter-stare going on.
Turning on the kettle, Anna kneels and scratches behind Elsa's ears, smiling at the approving growl. "I just got lost in my thoughts again, like earlier," she murmurs, her voice a comfortingly low hum. "Don't worry about me so much, okay?"
Hans, halted halfway into sitting on the couch, stares in open wonder as Anna places a gentle kiss on the bridge of the wolf's nose. The wild animal licks Anna's cheeks, the relaxed muscles under her fur telling Hans that the wolf has gone pliant under his friend's soothing tone.
Hans finds himself fighting a proud smile and an unnerved frown. Should he be more focused on the bond Anna and her odd companion have, or the affection in their eyes that suggest—
The man flops onto the couch, rubbing his eyes. He doesn't want to think about this right now, not when Anna's liable to kick him out at any moment. And, despite the circumstances, Hans doesn't want that. He came here to visit his friend, and that's what he intends to do.
Anna continues waving even as Hans disappears in the woods, heading back home before it gets too dark to navigate.
Elsa hums from behind her as she changes form. She stares off after the man, thinking.
"Penny for your thoughts?" Anna murmurs, shoving her bare hands into her jacket pockets. It was nice having Hans over, but now that the peaceful silence has returned Anna feels reluctant to break it.
The fae shrugs. "I was considering the consequences of me staying in wolf form for the meeting," she admits. "If I'd chosen to stay like this—"
Anna shakes her head. "I'd rather there be unsavoury rumors about me than manhunts against you," she says, sending the older woman a smile. "You have far more to lose then I could ever imagine. Me?" Anna shrugs. "The worst thing I'd have to do is move. Maybe change my name. That compared to the possible threat of an entire species . . . well, my problems don't even make it on the list."
"They make it on my list," Elsa whispers, almost too soft to hear. Anna grins and pulls the fae back inside the house with her.
"Thank you," Anna says, her eyes shining with affection. She leans forward and places a soft kiss on Elsa's jaw line. "But I'd rather have you safe than my reputation spotless."
"Can't we have both?" Elsa asks, her eyes wide and pleading. Anna blinks, her heart unable to take the abuse of the fae's puppy face.
"Oh my god, you're adorable," the woodsman chokes, her cheeks flushing with a need that shouldn't come from 'cute.'
It's Elsa's turn to blink. "Okay?" she questions, amusement in her tone. "That doesn't answer my question, though."
Anna flushes, barking an uncomfortable laugh. "It didn't, did it?" she asks, kicking off her boots and hanging up her coat, tripping over herself in her haste. Elsa raises an eyebrow. Anna's cheeks burn brighter. "Look, Elsa," the redhead starts, guiding the fae into the living room with a gentle hand on the shoulder. "When we're around people it's safest if you stay a wolf because you don't have a license, or birth certificate, or a last name, or parents and you don't show up in any government documents.
"When we're visiting that's fine because we won't be there long, but when I move someplace else and you decide to come with me . . ." Anna flicks her gaze away, not wanting to see the hurt look on Elsa's face that's bond to come. "It's easier registering a tame wolf then creating documents for someone who, by all accounts, shouldn't even exist. And, going back to your original point," she says, charging on before the fae can interrupt her, "whether your form is human or wolf, I can't stop myself from staring at you like"—I love you—"you mean more to me than anything else in the world. That's bound to start some weird rumors." Not to mention if the walls are thin and they hear Anna crying out Elsa's name one night. They'd end up calling some animal abuse activists to ride her ass, and not in the fun way.
"Anna—"
"It's cool," the redhead laughs, walking back to the front door. "I've gone through worse than a reputation issue. As long as you're with me—"
"What aren't you telling me, Anna?" Elsa interrupts, stopping the woodman in her tracks. "We both know about the humanity complications already – you more than me, perhaps, but by the way you talk . . ." she frowns. "Why did you move out here? The real reason."
Anna feels a vice grip clamp around her heart, sucking the air from her lungs. She's not ready to see the look on Elsa yet; doesn't think she'll never be ready.
"Not tonight," Anna whispers, putting on her winter gear. "I didn't steal anything or kill anyone, if that's what you're worried about."
Then Elsa's arms are around Anna's waist, the fae's cheek resting against the top of her head. "I wasn't worried about you harming someone else," Elsa murmurs, her voice calming the redhead's fraying nerves. "I was worried about someone else harming you."
Anna's heart leaps painfully and she turns in the fae's arms, burying her face in the soft fur of Elsa's cloak. She whimpers, the irony of the sound not lost on her as she clutches to Elsa's ice dress for dear life.
Elsa hesitates for only a moment before wrapping her arms around the redhead, her eyebrows twisting into a undecided furrow. "Do you need me to protect you?" she asks. "If you're up here because you're afraid of someone, you shouldn't be. I won't allow it." Olaf, still atop of Anna's head, chatters in agreement. The woodsman barks a watery laugh.
"No," Anna says, her words muffled by Elsa's cloak. "No one hurt me intentionally, nor do they have a chance of doing it again. I just needed . . . time." She pulls back, a soft smile on her face. "But I got to meet you, so I can't say it's a total loss." The fae flushes, an adorable smile upturning the corners of her lips. Anna gives a subdued chortle, gesturing to the door. "Now, I'm going to go sit in the grove overlooking valley forest. Do you want to come with?"
Elsa's eyes light up. "As if I'd ever say no," she says, a grin splitting her face. Considering nature formed her—formed all fae—Anna nods in acknowledgement, bathing in the warmth in Elsa's gaze that, for once, has nothing to do with the redhead.
And it's nice, seeing her happy. She didn't look like she was anything more than content, when they'd first met. Elsa said she didn't mind all that much, but Anna knows the fae prefers surrounding herself with companionable company. It's the reason she's had Olaf for more years than the blond cares to recall. Anna wouldn't doubt if he's been with her since the beginning.
So Anna laces their fingers together and exits the cabin, smiling to herself as the snow fae trembles with contained excitement.
Again, this isn't something the woodsman ever thought she'd be experiencing, not with how her first meeting with Elsa had ended. It was a . . . strange memory, to say the least.
Anna's fingers tremble as she works the injured ferret out of the snare he's tangled himself in. The animal is lucky, though – the trap looks old, far older than Anna's short time living up here, and so it was too broken to accomplish its original purpose. Enough to not cause damage, however? Not so much.
The ferret squeaks, and the weak sound has the hovering wolf growling, lips curling back over their teeth. Anna swallows, still unable to decide if it's good fortune that she's still alive or an extended nightmare.
"Ah ha!" Anna airs, not wanting to startle either animal. She moves the broken piece of the snare and scoops the ferret into her hands, her heart clamping at the pitiful whimper he emits. The wolf head butts her side. When Anna looks to the animal, they use their head to gesture to the ferret, then to the ground. The redhead bristles at the implication.
"I am not leaving him out here to die!" she hisses, even though she knows the wolf can't understand her. "You can growl and snarl at me, but unless you make me let him go, I'm going to save him. Do you understand me? I refuse to leave him here knowing I could have done something to help him." She stands and the wolf circles her, eyes brimmed with caution. "I may not know how to be a vet, but I'm damn well going to try," she mutters, heading towards her cabin and praying she makes it there with all of her limbs. She doubts her parents would want her to be a cripple just because she feels guilty as hell not being able to help them when they needed her. Sending herself to them in heaven one piece at a time is just . . . wrong, and more than a little disturbing.
To Anna's surprise, the wolf simply follows her. Well, stalks her, if she wants to be technical. The woodsman gets the impression that she'll get her throat ripped out in a moment's notice if she does anything the fierce animal doesn't like.
The ferret shivers, his little claws digging into Anna's mittens. Anna grits her teeth and rips off her scarf with her free hand, wrapping it around the ferret and her arm to keep the tiny creature warm.
"You're going to be okay," the redhead whispers, tears pricking in her eyes. "You're going to be alright, I promise."
The trek back to her cabin feels longer than it is, and by the time Anna reaches her door impatience and panic have settled in her heart.
She's therefore startled when the wolf pushes through the door ahead of her when she turns the handle. The animal was so silent Anna had almost forgotten they were still following her.
Rolling with this development—if the wolf wanted to hurt her they could have broken through her windows to do it—Anna kicks off her boots and settles in front of the fire place. She sets the ferret down and, throwing an extra log on the still-burning fire, unwraps her scarf from around him.
Anna stomach rolls and she turns her head away, taking in deep, calming breaths. What was it that doctors always say? It looks worse than it is? She certainly hopes so.
An hour or two later Anna is grateful to realise that yes, the damage did look worse than it was, and the ferret is going to be just fine. That did not solve her wolf problem in the least, however. She tried coaxing the animal out with meat and aspirated logic about not doing your business on my floor, but the wolf retained vigil over their companion. Eventually Anna gave up and went to make herself something to eat, but the stupid animal growled at her every time she made a noise too loud for the creature's liking.
"This is my goddamn house," Anna hisses, confronting the wolf in one of the most idiotic lapses of judgement she's ever had, "and I am not going to starve because you're a overprotective little shit who can't understand that I just saved your friend. So get your head out of your ass, or I'll slap you with a lizard. Kapish?"
For a moment the wolf just stares, head cocked and ears twitched forward, watching the heavy raise and fall of the redhead's chest, the trembling of her pointed finger.
Then the wolf curls around the ferret, ignoring Anna for the remainder of the night.
"Earth to Anna," Elsa says, her amused voice bringing the redhead back to the present. "We're here."
Anna blinks, sparing the fae a sheepish smile before allowing the view to take her breath away. For as far as the eye can see, there is a valley forest, sheltered by the mountains that line either side of it. This time of year has the area blanketed in a beautiful power of snow. Autumn, when Anna moved here, had the entire area shine with different variations of dimming life. She can only imagine how spring and summer will compliment it.
"Sit with me," Elsa says, sitting against a larger-than-average tree and opening her cloak. Anna grins, dropping and snuggling against the fae's side, protecting herself from the cold with fur as soft as Elsa's wolf pelt. Anna wouldn't doubt if, in a way, the cloak is the fae's wolf pelt, but she never felt the obligation to ask. Never felt pertinent. Still doesn't.
"Give a show?" Anna asks, wriggling until Elsa's arm rests atop her shoulders. The fae smiles.
"Another night, perhaps," Elsa says, resting her cheek against the side of the woodsman's head, not wanting to displace their smallest companion. "Tonight I'd rather enjoy the view, and the company."
Olaf chirps, startling Anna. She'd forgotten he was still perched on top of her hair. Elsa chuckles, patting the ferret with her free hand. "He's always liked you, you know," the fae says, affection in her tone. "Did you know that he'd bite my paws if I so much as looked at you wrong when he was recovering in your home?"
Anna laughs. "Did he actually?" she chortles, laughing harder when Elsa nods in affirmation. "I was wondering why you would yelp out of nowhere."
Elsa smiles, the corners of her eyes crinkling in amusement. "I learnt very quickly to either stay out of Olaf's bite-zone or play nice," she says.
"I noticed," Anna teases, neglecting to mention the time after Olaf's recovery. Elsa didn't revert back to being vicious towards her, but she did scoop Olaf into her jaws and trot off before Anna could get a say in the matter, which is worse in the redhead's mind. The following weeks of being alone were some of the hardest Anna has had to bear after getting accumulated to the company of the two animals. Like she said before – she's a social creature by nature, she needs the interactions, craves them. She would have moved back to the village during that time if the loss of her parents still weren't so fresh in her heart.
The woodsman's arms unconsciously tighten around Elsa's waist. The fae raises an eyebrow.
"Something on your mind?" Elsa asks.
"Don't leave me," Anna says, the words flowing out of her before she can filter it. She flushes, all of a sudden grateful that their position doesn't allow them to see each other's faces.
Elsa shifts, but Anna doesn't allow her to move. The fae stills, a contemplative silence falling between them.
"What brought this on?" Elsa asks, testing the waters.
"Please don't leave me," Anna repeats, burying her face in Elsa's shoulder and tightening her hold. She can't imagine losing another person she cares about. It's too unbearable to think about.
The fae's gaze softens, and she plants a soft kiss on the redhead's temple. "Never," she promises. "You've burrowed yourself too far under my skin for that, little fox."
"Little fox?" Anna questions, humour returning to her voice. Elsa grins, gently tugging on the redhead's bangs.
"Red like a fox," the fae says, then lifts Anna's upper lip and runs a finger along the sharpest edge of her teeth. "But without much heft in the hunting division." Elsa pauses, thinking. "Or maybe that means I should call you 'docile fox.' Does that sound more appropriate?"
Anna, who had stilled under Elsa's hand, leans up and presses a firm kiss against the fae's lips. "You're perfect," she puffs against Elsa's mouth, cupping the blond's cheeks with her mitten-covered hands. "And beautiful," Anna huffs between breathtaking kisses, swinging her leg so she's straddling the fae's hips. The redhead pulls away from Elsa's lips and kisses her way along the blond's jaw line until reaching her ear. The redhead presses the side of her head against Elsa's, her lips resting on the fae's ear. "I want to see you writhing underneath me."
Elsa's eyes widen, her fingers tightening on Anna's hips. Where did this come from? Not that the fae's complaining; she's wanted Anna for a while now, the redhead's just been a little slow on the uptake. Or maybe Elsa's not as transparent in showing attraction as she thought she was. Or maybe humans have different courting expressions than they used to and Elsa hasn't been made aware of it – Anna isn't exactly the best person to learn humanity's quirks from. Everything the woman does contradicts itself. Including this.
"Anna," Elsa says, using every ounce of her willpower to push Anna away and hold her by the shoulders. "There is nothing I'd like more," she begins, "but your emotions have been all over the board today. When—if—this happens, I want to be sure it's not because of an emotional whim in the heat of the moment."
"Oh," Anna says, her shoulders sagging. Before Elsa can reassure the redhead, however, Anna continues with, "Can we at least cuddle? In my bed? While we're sleeping? And before we're sleeping, too. I'd be okay with that. I—" she clears her throat, "I-I'd like the company. You can go wolf for it if you want to test boundaries first, or whatever. As long as I'm not alone I don't really care all that much."
Elsa raises an eyebrow. "Did you try to sleep with me just because you wanted company?"
"No, I wanted to sleep with you because you're kind, and thoughtful and hot as fu—" Anna snaps her mouth shut with a click, her face flaring. "Do you want to sleep with me or not?" she clips. Her face brightens further. "I mean sleep in the same bed as me. Cuddling. Not touching each other. Well, I mean we'd technically be touchin— interrupt me at any time now. Save the remaining fragments of my dignity. That'd be great."
Elsa laughs, unable to contain it any longer. "Come on, pup," she says, her throat fluttering in partially restrained humour. She stands, taking Anna with her. The redhead yelps, gripping Elsa's shoulders for balance. The fae rolls her eyes, lowering Anna's feet into the snow. "So melodramatic," she murmurs, turning heel and heading back to the cabin.
Anna grins. "So does that mean this is a bad time to ask if the pelt matches the carp— ack!" Anna stumbles back, trips and collapses onto her back, wiping the snowball from her face. "I'm fine! Totally good!" she calls to Elsa's back, who refuses to stop walking to check on her. "But seriously," Anna yells, getting her voice to travel clearly through the gaping distance between them, "can I lift your dress to find ou— fuck! Elsa, you stinker! Get back here!"
Elsa barks out a bout of laughter at the muffled command, not daring to turn around to see the pair of arms and legs flailing from under a pile of snow of her making. The redhead will meet her back at the cabin or send Olaf in search of her if she can't get out.
After Anna's dramatic entrance back at the cabin, Elsa coaxes the human out of her wet winter clothes and into pajamas. Anna tries to get Elsa into her pair of snowman pajamas, but the fae wiggles her way out of the situation by explaining that a wolf doesn't need to wear a green button-up t-shirt with dancing snowmen all over it.
Anna pouts, the shirt hanging from her hands in defeat. Elsa rolls her eyes and takes the article of clothing to set on the dresser. "If we get to the stage of me sleeping human form I'll wear it," Elsa promises, turning back around and almost rolling her eyes again at the dopy grin the redhead sends her in response. "Okay, Chuckles, hop into bed."
"Three nicknames in one day," Anna says, taking a running leap and whooping when she bounces on the mattress. "What's the special occasion?"
"I figured I'd—" Elsa pauses, trying not to laugh outright when Anna starts rubbing the spot beside her with an awful sexy expression on her face – all pouty lips and ridiculous eyebrow movement. "I figured I'd call you something different every time I address you for the next couple weeks so I can pick out which addresses you like, and which ones you don't," Elsa finishes, walking to the side of the bed and sitting on the edge. "Now, are there any other questions you'd like to ask before I 'go wolf'?"
Anna scoots forward and runs her fingers through the fur of Elsa's cloak, the action soothing the anxiety in the redhead's chest. "Promise you'll stay until I wake up?" she asks, meeting Elsa's gaze.
"You mean I have to stay in bed with you for hours after my wake up time?" the fae teases. "How will I ever occupy my myself?" Anna smacks the fae's arm and Elsa laughs. "Okay," the blond agrees, eyes shining with good humour. "I promise I'll snuggle with you until your obnoxiously late wake-up time."
"Ten in the morning is not late," Anna protests. "And for your information, five in the morning— oh for crying out loud," the redhead sighs, staring at a very self-satisfied wolf. "I don't even know why I bother." Elsa gives a woof, her wagging tail tumbling against the comforter. Anna rolls her eyes and ruffles the fae's fur, scratching behind the ears for good measure.
"Okay," Anna says, settling under her sheets and holding them open. "Come on in, Stinker; let me shower you with love." Elsa snorts, but obediently settles her side into Anna's front. The redhead lowers the blankets, tucking them in close, and wraps the wolf in a loose embrace. "Goodnight, Elsa," Anna murmurs, already feeling sleep overcoming her. Elsa snuggles closer to her in response, and Anna's lips tug a content smile in response. She could get used to this.
Olaf, forgotten about once again, squeaks indignity as he crawls up the side of the bed. He shakes himself off, shooting Elsa and Anna a glare.
Anna sends him a half-coherent smile. "Sleep well, Olaf."
Satisfied with the acknowledgement, the ferret curls himself between Elsa's paw and her neck, already out like a light.
Anna grins, planting one last kiss to Elsa's fur-covered head before being consumed by the land of dreams.
A/N: WHO SAID I COULDN'T WRITE FLUFF? TAKE THIS, YA BASTARD! I HOPE I COMATOSED THE SHIT OUT OF YOUR SHIPPER HEART!