Kai and Gerda greeted the newlyweds at the doors of the main hall. Both were the heads of the royal household, the butler and housekeeper respectively. Gerda was attempting to contain her joy, eyes bright with unshed tears, and Kai was grinning from ear to ear.
"Such a wonderful ceremony, your majesty," Gerda said to Elsa. She and Kai had attended most of the service and rushed back to the castle to receive the royal couple. "Oh, if only the old king and queen could have seen it! Your father would have been so proud."
Elsa gave a tight smile and nodded. Her hand gripped the hilt of her father's old sword, careful not to allow ice to form on it.
The housekeeper turned to Anna and drew her into a hug. "Oh, my dear," she whispered, pulling back to cup Anna's cheeks. "It's 'your majesty' now! And look at you! How you've grown into such a fine lady and bride. We've missed you so."
Anna grinned and returned the embrace. Gerda had always been her favorite servant when Anna visited Arendelle, sneaking her chocolate treats and keeping her schemes secret, even when she'd made a bad enough mess to warrant a royal spanking as a child. Anna was certain Gerda was the sole reason her bottom wasn't tanned off due to her fondness for the Corona princess, even when she deserved it.
"It's wonderful to see you, too, Gerda."
Kai bowed deeply. "Your majesties," he began, still smiling. "I beg your pardon for interrupting, but the day's schedule is rather full."
"You'll have to change out of that dress," Elsa said, careful not to let her eyes linger on Anna's cleavage. Her mouth suddenly dried as she remembered how Anna had felt in her arms, sitting in her lap. She continued on, her tone brusque to hide the sudden heat that washed over her. "You'll find another dress has been prepared for the evening ball. Gerda will take you."
Elsa watched the housekeeper lead Anna away. When she reached the threshold, Anna looked back and gave her a small smile over her shoulder. Elsa didn't trust herself not do something stupid, so she nodded once and then Anna was gone.
"Your majesty, you have your own change of attire as well," Kai said. He was watching the queen with veiled curiosity. Her majesty seemed tense and he'd seen the way she kept gripping the ceremonial sword like an anchor, the glove stretching over her knuckles.
"Have you decided if you'd prefer the suit or the dress for the evening party?"
"Your majesty?" He prompted when she didn't react.
Elsa finally turned back to the butler. "I have to wear the suit," she said. "I have to dance with her, don't I?"
The butler blinked. The queen sounded distressed about it, which was odd in itself given the amount of effort she'd personally put into planning the wedding; her majesty had decided everything from start to finish, including the dance. Kai had also seen firsthand the weeks the queen had spent relearning every popular waltz and ballroom dance in the male role with the etiquette master. Performance jitters? Kai wondered.
"Yes, your majesty," he affirmed.
Elsa's shoulders fell. "I'll go change, then."
Kai watched the queen leave the hall with a frown.
Gerda took Anna to the Queen's chambers, which was a series of rooms adjoining the King's chambers. Arendelle Castle was now vast and winding and rather circuitous. In its original state, it had been quite small, but as the kingdom's fortunes improved over the centuries, previous monarchs took to adding their own renovations to make the once modest castle into the great labyrinth it was now. Anna didn't mind; she had fond memories of exploring the corridors and hidden rooms, drafty as they were. Quite a few of those recollections did involve her and Elsa getting lost as children, but that was part of the fun at that age. Elsa had claimed there was a map of the castle with all its strange additions somewhere and they'd made a game out of it, like a treasure hunt. She wondered if Elsa ever found it.
Anna smiled, suddenly feeling nostalgic. It'd been so long since she'd last been inside the castle. Custom dictated that the bride and groom live separately until the actual ceremony, so Anna had been staying in a vacant estate built for visiting nobility with her parents instead of being housed in the castle proper as in the past. And now she had her own chambers. There were probably attached rooms that she'd never find.
Gerda ushered her into an enormous walk-in closet that rivaled her bedroom in Corona. Anna gaped. Dresses and outfits of every kind lined the walls. None of them looked familiar.
"Gerda, are these the old queen's?" Anna asked.
"Oh, heavens, no. These are all yours, dear," Gerda said, walking to an elegant forest green ballgown displayed on a mannequin.
"The queen commissioned several dressmakers for your wardrobe. Come, come, let's get you out of that and into this lovely dress. I'm sure the wedding gown is heavy, beautiful as it is," the housekeeper continued on, oblivious to Anna's shock. Even Anna could see that the contents of that closet had to have cost a fortune. Then again, Arendelle was ludicrously wealthy. Anna had just never realized how that wealth would manifest itself.
Her thoughts were interrupted as Gerda began undoing her stays. Anna obediently held still.
"You must be busy with other duties," Anna remarked. "You could send in a maid for something like this."
"Oh, the staff won't fall apart without me," Gerda replied. "And I'd like to be here for you, dear. It's not every day you get to see a princess properly married off in a grand royal wedding."
"As opposed to improperly?" Anna snickered. The bodice loosened and she pulled her arms free, the silk falling to her hips. She wore a chemise and drawers underneath.
Gerda tsked as she gathered up the wedding dress and laid it reverently out on a naked mannequin. "You were always so wild when you were girl," she started, lips pursed. "Leading the young princess about on such adventures and getting lost in the castle. We were worried you'd get up to trouble with that boy from the Southern Isles."
"'That boy?'" Anna grinned. "You mean Prince Hans?" Only Gerda could call a prince "that boy" with such distaste.
"Only thirteenth in line to the throne of the Southern Isles," Gerda sniffed, her disdain obvious.
"That hardly compares to the queen of Arendelle." Few could compare to Arendelle's blue blood and Anna could hardly fault Hans for that, though the Southern Isles was a relatively young nation. The Southern Isles royal family was generally viewed as an upstart in the land of revered ancient bloodlines. Their breeding was (in private company) often compared unfavorably to that of rabbits in both quality and frequency, thus Hans's unfortunate place in the line of succession.
"I liked Hans!" Anna protested. Gerda awarded her with another pointed look and held out the green ball gown. She stepped in, careful not to crush the fine lace and silk.
"He wrote me lovely poetry."
Gerda's eyes rolled, but she was behind her lacing up the dress, so Anna missed it. "All the same, you're now the queen of Arendelle." She turned Anna to face her, examining the dress.
"You'll make her very happy," she said, referring to Elsa, her eyes going soft and wet again.
"Oh, Gerda." Anna drew the matron into her arms. "I'll try to. God, I haven't seen Elsa in years. I have no idea what kind of person she is now."
The kiss in the carriage roared to the forefront of her mind as glaring proof of that statement. Her cheeks warmed.
"She's still the same wonderful girl," Gerda said after releasing Anna, careful to keep her face away from staining the silk. She fished out a handkerchief to dab her eyes. "A grown woman now, of course." She patted Anna's cheek, smiling fondly at the former princess she treated as her own daughter.
"You'll discover all the lovely things about her soon enough."
Anna pressed her lips together again, recalling the image of Elsa beneath her, flushed and panting.
"I think I'm well on my way to."
While Anna was considering how to go about rediscovering her new spouse, Elsa was in the King's chambers trying to do the exact opposite.
Her eyes kept drifting to the door adjoining their rooms. Just beyond the door (and past the Queen's breakfast room, private drawing room and the actual bedroom), Anna would be changing into the green dress Elsa had chosen. She would slide out of the cream wedding dress, wearing only a chemise and drawers and garters and stockings. All cream colored. Elsa knew all of these details because she'd decided to be responsible for everything in order to make Anna's new life in the castle as pleasant as possible.
She'd immersed herself in clothes and fashion for Anna's wardrobe. She had no idea of the sheer number of choices women had to subject themselves to—Elsa had previously allowed Gerda to handle the matter of her wardrobe. Or how many shades of green there were. Even dressmakers had a breaking point when their patron, royalty or not, could not adequately describe which green she wanted. "I beg a thousand pardons, your majesty," one of the kinder dressmakers had said with a trace of exasperation, "but 'in-between fresh summer grass and fern' is not a shade I have. Please choose from one of these samples." Horrifying, especially when she didn't like any of them, trying to imagine how they'd contrast to Anna's hair. Elsa imagined if there was a hell, samples would be waiting for her.
Then she'd redecorated the Queen's chambers in Anna's favorite colors, retaining her sanity only through astute delegation having learned from the dressmaker episode. She agonized over the selection of antique furniture inside, wondering if Anna would even like any of it. Then felt terrible for having considered replacing them—they were her late mother's. In the end, she decided to leave them.
She'd had the entire castle cleaned and dusted, a vast undertaking since her ancestors were consistent in the shared notion that their legacy needed to be permanently stamped into the castle, each generation trying to outdo and outspend the last. She didn't know how it was possible the castle could keep expanding outward like an obese cat. It was practically on an island. Where did the land to support it even come from? Were the waters outside that shallow? She suspected that sometime by the next century the battlements that concealed the hodgepodge of dubious improvements would burst at the seams and spill out into the city, gobbling up the bridge and maybe the rest of the fjord, too.
That'd make an impression on later generations.
And all these additions meant the equivalent of the annual income of a small country was needed to maintain it, and could comfortably house that same population, too. Elsa's eyes had nearly fallen out of her skull when she'd seen the estimated household costs. No wonder most of the castle was closed off. Even Arendelle's bounty had its limits. Still, the castle would be where her new wife would live and she would make it presentable. Just in case Anna preferred to sleep elsewhere. The thought hurt and made Elsa not want to sleep at all, but she was prepared for it. While her mother and father had not slept in separate beds, there were other ancestors who had. Legend was that one Arendelle king maintained a mistress in one wing and installed his queen in another and neither was aware of the other's existence for nearly a decade.
Elsa thought that tale was more a testament to the discretion of the castle servants at the time and less to do with the vastness of the castle.
She'd hired cooks of varying culinary backgrounds in case Anna enjoyed different types and cultures of food. She'd refurbished the stables and bought a string of thoroughbreds because she remembered Anna enjoyed riding. She'd imported all manner of exotic plants and flowers to harvest in the royal greenhouse. Anna liked flowers, she thought. She was sure Anna had mentioned some fondness for flora, but not what type, so she'd bought every kind she could get her hands on. There were many. She ought to have torn the leaves off a few and shown them to the dressmakers, but by the time she'd thought of it, the wardrobe was mostly done.
Elsa was painfully aware that she was overcompensating. She'd come upon the conclusion late one night in her father's—no, her study now—when she was reviewing the monthly fiscal report. Granted, Anna would be her queen and lavish gifts and gestures were the norm, but looking at the list still made her drop her head into her hands in chagrin. She was trying too hard.
Not that she would ever admit it to anybody but herself and only in moments like now when she was riddled with despair and self-doubt. She was pathetic, staring at the door that would lead (after an arduous trek through three other rooms) to where her wife was dressing, fantasizing about her bare form while wearing her father's uniform. Such was the lengths she was willing to go to please Anna.
She would even dress as a man.
It wasn't that she disliked men's clothes. But she certainly didn't make a habit of wearing them and had only done it because it was for Anna. Not that Anna had ever expressed a desire that she wanted Elsa to wear the uniform for the wedding, but... even if they'd been betrothed for years and years, Anna was still a woman who dreamed of a prince, Elsa knew. Elsa understood. So, she did her best to fulfill that dream, even if it was superficial and temporary.
Elsa loved Anna. She'd loved her for years while Anna dreamed of that prince. Elsa loved her for so long that she couldn't remember a time when she didn't, like she'd sprung from the womb with her heart already belonging to Anna in some form or another. She'd been in Corona with her parents when Anna came to the world, had been entranced by the babe King Frederick had so proudly presented to his close friends. She'd even begged her parents for a sibling, though her mother had always smiled sadly and told her she could not.
She watched Anna grow and they were the best of friends when they were together. And when Elsa was old enough to know that what she felt for Anna was turning from friendship to infatuation... well. She didn't know what possessed her father to propose the betrothal to King Frederick. The match heavily favored Corona for a single reason: they already had a healthy male heir, Prince Kristoff, who was Anna's older brother. There was no concern of the bloodline being severed. Elsa, on the other hand, was the last Arendelle.
She'd begged her parents to not make Anna her betrothal, even if the thought of marrying Anna made her breathless. She would have swallowed her love and pride and married whichever man they chose. It was her duty. She would have borne a child and continued the line, regardless of how miserable she'd have been.
But if her wife was Anna…
No. She would not dishonor Anna. She'd rather die than shame her.
Elsa swallowed the hard lump that formed in her throat, her vision blurring.
There was a clause in their marriage contract, a very specific clause that Elsa had inserted and made sure King Frederick agreed to. The clause gave her consent as sole representative of House Arendelle to legitimize any children produced by a union between Anna and a male consort. Any child of Anna's would automatically be afforded the same status and protection as though it were Elsa's own. The child would inherit her name. Anna would suffer no punishment, no repercussions, no loss of her royal titles, esteem, status, privilege. She would remain Elsa's wife, free to do as she pleased.
She had, in essence, given Anna permission to break her heart.
Corona, one year ago
King Frederick seized the pale girl before him into a bear hug.
"My god, Elsa, it's good to see you," the king exclaimed. He pulled her back and examined her with a critical eye.
"You need to eat more. You look like a damned martyr on death's doorstep."
Elsa smiled weakly, aware of the dark circles under her eyes and her wan complexion. She'd glimpsed her reflection on the silver platter that a servant had left next to her while she was waiting for an audience with the king.
"I'm sorry, Uncle," she said, her voice cracking with disuse. The king was not her uncle by blood, but she'd always referred to him affectionately as such. "I'll try not to remind you of sacrifices."
The king chuckled, though the words were a bit too close to the truth. The last time King Frederick had seen Elsa was over two years ago, a few months before the loss of Alexander and Marina. She looked heartbreakingly somber, grief etched into her eyes. Marina's eyes and Alexander's proud bearing. Too young for such loss, for both Elsa and her parents.
King Frederick led her to the large desk that dominated his study. They sat, King Frederick behind the desk, the surface having been hastily cleared off when his secretary had informed him that Princess Elsa was waiting outside his door, heels still dusty from travel. She'd arrived unannounced and while King Frederick was glad to see her, he was also confused. Matters had to be urgent for Elsa to leave Arendelle, and in secret no less.
"Shall I call for Anna?" He grinned. "She'd love to see you."
"No, that's not necessary," Elsa said quickly. "I apologize for the terse message earlier… regarding the betrothal. And not passing on word that I would be coming."
"You're always welcome here," King Frederick said gently. "Though you did surprise me. Is aught amiss? I will help to the best of my ability."
Elsa reached into her satchel on her lap, fingers brushing the folder of parchment that'd never left her side since she left Arendelle. Papers that she'd read and reread, going over every word, memorizing each sentence and paragraph. Making sure it was ironclad.
"I'm glad you're still receptive to the betrothal," she began. "That's… partly why I'm here."
King Frederick's brow furrowed as he regarded the young woman before him. Even though exhaustion showed on her features, she looked steadily back at him.
"If you're worried about the betrothal, my messenger ought to be on the road to Arendelle already," he began. "We received your letter only two days past. When did you leave? You must have chased the man's heels to get here."
Elsa shook her head. "No, I… it's a personal matter. Well, not personal," she corrected. "It is for both Corona and Arendelle. The marriage contract."
King Frederick frowned now, lips pursing. "That contract was already signed long ago between myself and your father. Even if you hadn't sent that letter, Anna has always been promised to you. Of course, if you didn't want to go through with the betrothal, we would have rescinded it."
His brows rose. "Are you here to rescind? Was that letter from earlier sent by mistake?"
"No! That is… no," she blurted out. "I wish to honor my commitment to Anna."
"Were you concerned we would back out, then?"
"No, no, I… Forgive me, I am having some difficulty articulating what I mean." Elsa took a deep breath. Her hands were cold and sweaty. She felt numb. "Please give me a moment."
"Do you want to hear about Anna?" King Frederick asked after a long silence. He knew his only daughter and Elsa, who he cared for as deeply as his own, were close. Mentions of Anna always brought some levity to Elsa's seriousness and the princess looked like she was facing an executioner at that moment.
"Her birthday is in a few weeks. We'd love for you to stay, join in the celebration. Anna would be overjoyed to see you."
But Elsa didn't smile as King Frederick expected. In fact, she seemed to look even more grim.
"I doubt that. I know she had a… an engagement. To a Prince Hans."
King Frederick snorted. "Him? Hardly. I haven't approved any kind of engagement. He's a nice enough sort," the king grumbled, catching Elsa's questioning look. "Polished, good manners. I don't trust him, though. I doubt my girl would be happy with him for long."
"I see. Does Anna love him?"
"Does it matter? I don't approve and I don't think he deserves her. I won't give her to him." He'd meant it to reassure Elsa, but her expression didn't change at all.
"I want to amend the marriage contract." She drew out the contents of her satchel and gingerly laid it out on the desk. Her hand was steady now.
The king blinked at the documents. "What's wrong with the old one?"
She was tired, so tired. And numb. She sometimes had to concentrate and place her hand over her breast to feel her own heartbeat and know she was still alive. To make sure her heart had not frozen over from grief and heartache.
"My understanding of the contract that was agreed upon between you and my father was the standard one for two women entering a marriage with property involved," Elsa started. The words came out smoothly, just as she'd practiced. "With alterations to a few clauses regarding the matter of Anna's dowry, her allowance, land and titles bequeathed to her."
"Yes?" The king prompted. Elsa had paused overly long. She blinked several times as though coming out of a trance.
"I believe my father also removed a particular clause regarding… heirs. And the matter of… companionship."
The king stared.
"Elsa," he started to say, his disbelief evident. "That matter has already been decided-"
"I know it has! I want—No. I-I request, with all due respect, to…" Why were her words failing her now? At this very moment, when she needed them the most? She held up her hand and breathed in again. In. Out. In. Out.
"I request that the marriage contract between Princess Anna of Corona and I, head of House Arendelle, be amended to include provisions regarding heirs produced outside of our marriage and the consequences therein should such an occurrence arise." She recited it without stumbling.
King Frederick looked at her with sad eyes. "Why would you do this, Elsa? Is this some kind of test? We-your father and I-removed that clause because it was unnecessary. Anna would never-"
"Uncle, please. It's not for myself, it's for Anna, for her children-"
"But you love her," he said. "I know you, Elsa. It would break your heart if Anna ever did anything like that. Your father knew as well, and that was why we agreed it should not be there. It is a terrible thing, and even if you did include it, Anna would never betray your trust. Anna keeps her promises."
"It's not that," she said through numb lips. "I know she wouldn't… stray. But I know she would like children."
King Frederick huffed out a breath. "Then adopt."
"That's… no. That's not good enough. It wouldn't be a blood relation and you know adoptions can be invalidated for inheritances," she insisted.
"It would be enough if you simply wanted Anna to raise children."
Elsa made a frustrated noise. "It's different. She ought to have her own. It's… it's not the same."
"Then explain it to me, Elsa," he pleaded, speaking to the girl before him as he would his own child. "Tell me why."
"I am the last Arendelle. I'm all that remains after Mother and Father passed. I should have been betrothed to a prince, a man, someone who would sire the next Arendelle and continue the line. But Father didn't promise me to a prince. He chose Anna. Do you understand? He chose to end our family with me."
Horror spread over King Frederick's face. "No," he said at once. "That is not true. He chose nothing of the kind. He wanted only the best for you-"
"I will not let Arendelle end with me!" Elsa shouted, knocking her chair over as she snapped to her feet. Frost covered the desk surface, stopping just short of the pile of documents.
The king sighed. He rose as well and righted Elsa's chair, motioning for her to sit. Instead of returning, he dropped down on a neighboring seat and took Elsa's hands in his own. He winced. They were ice.
"The best way thing for Arendelle would be to break the betrothal," Elsa said dully. "Find a suitable man, have a child, secure Arendelle's future. But Father chose Anna for me and I don't know why. One of his last wishes was for me to take Anna as wife and I—I want to fulfill that.
You have my word that I will marry Anna. I want to offer the protection of my name and a future for any child Anna bears. Not for me. I will not bear children. I will not betray the vow I make to Anna, nor do I want to pass this curse onto my children."
Elsa closed her eyes.
"I think that was why he wanted me to marry Anna and remove that clause. The removal was meant for me, even though I would be faithful. So this… this curse will not continue. It will die with me, and so will Arendelle blood, but Anna's will carry Arendelle forward," she whispered.
King Frederick dropped his head to stare at their joined hands.
"I will agree to this," he finally said. "But all this pain will be for nothing if Anna refuses to bear a child. She will love you, Elsa, I swear it."
But Elsa was already shaking her head. "I'm not who she wants. She'd never say it, but I'm not it." Princes and knights, she thought. Not me. I'm neither. I'm just someone who she had no choice in.
"I don't know what you think Anna feels, but marriage changes everything, Elsa. I don't want your union to carry this cloud over your heads. And I don't want you to drive Anna away just so Arendelle will have an heir under some mistaken belief that it's for the best."
"I will not mistreat her," Elsa promised. "I will love her and take care of her and if what I have to offer is not enough, then she'll have a way out. You see, I am the one benefitting from it. If she leaves and has a child, that child will be cared for. And if she stays, then… then I would still win. I would benefit either way."
The king sighed in defeat. "I was wrong. You are a damned martyr."
Elsa had stayed the night in Corona. King Frederick would not sign the amended contract until she had rested and thought her decision through again, but she'd known it would not change. She'd managed to persuade him to keep her presence secret and he had tucked her away into one of the guest bedrooms on the opposite side of the castle from Anna's room.
Luckily, Anna had been confined to her rooms at the time. King Frederick had said she'd thrown a childish fit over the news of their renewed betrothal. If anything, that bit of information only reaffirmed her belief that that clause needed to be included.
By the next morning, Elsa was ready to leave, still firm in her belief of the amendment. King Frederick had grudgingly signed it, but not before making her watch him escort Anna outside to the stables from her window, claiming she ought to at least see what her bride looked like.
In the span of only two years, Anna had become beautiful.
No, that was wrong. She'd always thought Anna beautiful. What had changed was that she'd become aware of her physically.
Elsa had been surprised at her own body's reaction to Anna. She'd stared hungrily at Anna, appalled at how her gaze lingered on Anna's legs and hips, stared too long at the breasts hidden under the riding jacket. Gazed at her face, how it had matured, losing the last of its baby fat.
Alarmed at the direction of her thoughts, she'd nearly ripped the contract free from King Frederick's hands in her attempt to flee once Anna was away from the castle. She'd felt like a voyeur. She couldn't put distance between herself and Anna fast enough.
Elsa glanced at the clock. She'd been standing in the middle of the room staring blankly at Anna's door for the past fifteen minutes, reliving bad memories. The happiness from earlier was gone, leaving her heart heavy, if it was there at all. She tried to summon up the vision of Anna in her wedding dress, walking down the aisle, a realized dream; then her throat closed up as she wondered when Anna would be walking away from her because she found her lacking.
The door suddenly opened.
Elsa and Gerda stared at one another, both going stiff with surprise.
Gerda recovered first and scowled. "You haven't changed yet!" She bustled into the room and closed the door before Elsa could react.
"Your wife has already finished!" Gerda scolded. She herded Elsa to the large bed where her evening attire was laid out.
"Has she?" Elsa asked, dazed. Yes, Anna would be wearing the green dress. "Does it compliment her?"
Gerda gave her an odd look. "You'll see her soon."
She began unbuttoning Elsa's uniform for her since the queen seemed incapable of it, her eyes distant and arms limp at her sides.
"I must ask, but are you all right, dear?"
She seemed to snap out of whatever had been arresting her attention. "Yes. I'm fine. I can dress myself, Gerda. You can go," she said firmly.
The older woman looked like she wanted to protest, but left when the queen gave a shake of her head. Elsa draped the uniform top over the back of a chair, discarded the gloves and pulled the pristine white shirt free of her trousers. She glanced at her reflection.
This was who Anna married. A pale woman masquerading as a man, chest swelling just below the last button she'd left undone at the center. A family heirloom sword at her side, meant for someone who could wield it. For some reason, her father had wanted this.
It wasn't who she was.
With a frustrated sound, Elsa tore the pins out of her hair and yanked the coiled blonde plait down. The sword was unbelted and thrown on the bed, landing with a rattle. With palms pressed to the table, she leaned in and glared at the mirror, chest moving with quick agitated breaths. Long blonde hair fell in uneven layers around her pale face, past shoulders that could never pass as a man's. A feminine face—her mother's face, undeniably aristocratic and with sharper lines from stress and weight loss—stared back.
How could she have ever thought she could convince Anna with something like this? No matter what angle or misdirection Elsa could come up with, she was a woman. She was playing at pretend like a child, trying to impress another girl.
A bubble of hysterical laughter rose up. She smothered it with a hand and shook her head at her folly.
She had a full day ahead of celebrations and she needed to change. Wallowing in self-pity would get her nowhere and she needed to get through the schedule, at least for Anna's sake. Anna would have her wedding and party, just as Elsa had planned.
With a sigh, Elsa went to the door to call for Gerda to help her dress for the sake of time, expecting the housekeeper to be hovering outside. But the person at the door she saw, hand oustretched to where the doorknob would have been, was Anna.
Elsa nearly slammed the door shut again, feeling raw and exposed.
"Uh," Anna said, her eyes sweeping down to take in the sight of disheveled and half-dressed queen. Elsa wanted to close her eyes. If ever she wanted to remind Anna that she was a woman… She resisted the urge to yank her shirt shut over her chest.
"Hello. I didn't know where this door was supposed to go to," Anna said. She smiled crookedly, apologetic. "I didn't mean to intrude."
"It's all right." She stole a quick look at Anna's dress. It did suit her, wonderfully. The thought of sample hell was suddenly more bearable.
"You look beautiful," she said without thinking.
Anna blushed. "Thank you." A pause. "And for the dress, I mean. Gerda told me you bought my wardrobe. It must have cost so much."
"You're worth it," Elsa said, again without thinking. She grimaced. Did she have no control over her mouth now? She was just an endless litany of flaws.
But the look of surprise Anna showed her, complete with the rosy cheeks and shy smile, had her discarding the apology. She'd probably bungle that, too. She decided she ought to just keep her mouth shut.
A lock of blonde hair fell over her eye. Anna beat her to it, stepping into her to brush it back. Elsa's eyes went wide, her nerves buzzing at Anna's close proximity. Anna's eyes were on her lips. The queen breathed in sharply, her body leaping in response. Desire made her hands twitch to reach for her wife and hold her tight.
She wanted to kiss Anna again.
Elsa tried to crush the urge. Her hand was still gripping the doorknob, frost making it slippery. She needed to go if she wanted to avoid a repeat of the carriage ride. Now.
"I'm sorry, but I have to finish changing," Elsa forced out, taking a deliberate step back. Retreating into the safety of her room.
"I was looking for Gerda. Is she about?"
Anna blinked, disappointment evident. "She's in the, uh, bedroom. I think. Too many rooms, I might get lost in them." She paused, searching Elsa's face.
"I'll go get her if you want," she said.
Elsa nodded stiffly. "Please. Thank you." Her control slipping, she closed the door a little too quickly in her hurry. She leaned against it, wincing as ice bit into her back through the shirt, waiting. There were a few seconds of silence, but she eventually heard the ripple of skirts and footfalls that faded away. I'm sorry, Anna.
She put her face in her hands and smacked her head back against the door with a low groan.
This was going to be much harder than she'd anticipated.
A/N: Thank you for all the reviews! Sorry about the angst. Constructive criticism is always appreciated.
