A/N: Here's something to give a bit more dimension to this rather small AU.
"Take care of the place, Leonin," she said regally.
"Of course, Your Majesty."
She knew that he knew where the food and beverage stores were, so she did't let it worry her. He raised a hand feebly.
"How long will you be gone?"
"Only for a day or two. Will you miss me?" She almost laughed at her attempt of a joke.
"As much as I may. Is it in preparation for next month?"
Elsa brought a hand to her face briefly. "I might tell you when I return over some wine."
"As you wish, Your Majesty. Enjoy your time away."
He noticed how she walked over to the doors, fully aware that she didn't need any escort to the castle—not even from the top of the North Mountain. Utterly majestic, he thought.
She pushed the doors open, then left without another word.
The desk's lacquered surface had since accumulated fifteen smudges stacked on top of each other.
"Damn that witch!"
Make that sixteen.
"Does she have any idea how difficult those dragons are to come by?" He huffed.
"My Lord, if it's any consolation—" he paused as he saw the bespectacled duke eyeing him with vitriol, "the keep informs us that there are eleven more where that came from." He wasn't at all expecting for the duke to step up from his chair and remove his sigil.
"That'll be all, Mr. Theodoro," he said, placing the seal back into a drawer in his desk. He turned his head to see the man gawking and red-faced.
"But sir—"
And the unsheathing of cold steel cut him off. "Do not make me repeat myself." The cane sword (a family heirloom) shone in the lamplight.
The man before him ceased his shifting motions. He only asked, "Why?" Having the sword point directly to his face, he gulped. "For being an imbecile the entire time I've known you, of course. Now leave."
Damn duke and his ways. Fine, I'll gladly go, he thought. The door closed with a mild slam, if it could be called that.
Having been left alone in the comfort of his office, he sheathed his weapon back to his waist. "Just a duke, they all say." He sat back down in his chair to look around each and every one of his accolades; all of which earned through a hard life. He sighed as his eyes fell to a specific document—one that all Weselton officials were to have a copy of in their office.
It was a treaty of peace with many surrounding kingdoms. Arendelle was one of them. He could still remember the terms of that particular engagement.
Fifty years prior, a sect of vagrants in Arendelle had heard legend of a plant in Weselton's borders that could grant a wish. While no one ever found the flower, much blood was spilt. Leading the vagrants was none other than Isaac Vodolvan; the same man who had tried to incite anarchy in his home kingdom in much the same manner. King Ulrich thought nothing of executing the fool for what he had done.
Back when the old man could think. He scoffed as he brought his elbows atop the ebony desk.
Arendelle inevitably wanted a declaration of peace, and seeing as how the actions of some vagrants could be excused, they were granted peace with the document on his wall.
Speaking into his hands, "Now the old man is too far gone to realize how much this damn country needs a good war. People starving, people begging, people estranged." His fingers dug into the palms of his hands. "And that Queen Elsa refusing us again and again; not giving us the trade we so very much need." He stood up and moseyed over to stare out his window into the purple of the night. "Curiouser and curiouser," he said, stroking his chin. "How could she have felled a grand dragon? Even if only an adolescent, that's still unheard of. I was sure that after speaking to it that no error would surface."
It was his least-known talent and his greatest secret. The Duke of Weselton, Albert Lichtenstein, could speak to dragons. He had discovered it on the fields of Moravia when he thought himself left for dead by his deserted platoon. His cries of regret and sorrow were met by a majestic creature, whisking him back home to give news of the conflict with the neighboring kingdom. The ride over he had discovered that the dragon's name was Gujanīr, as well as where it hailed from.
He had always known of them; dragons were by no means mythical creatures. Agdar had once sent a regiment to deal with one that plagued the Valley of the Living Rock, fearing that the one source of wisdom regarding his eldest daughter would become as ash. They succeeded, but that was only a drake. Lord Helerin was nevertheless revered as a hero for leading the group.
"I'll make her pay. Even if it takes all the dragons on the face of the Earth, she'll pay." He then removed his glove as he returned to his seat at once. Removing an envelope, he pulled out the letter he had received earlier in the afternoon.
Only for your eyes, Albert Lichtenstein:
The Queen disposed of the dragon in a single motion. The trainers you requested, Mr. Trellers and Mr. Sorren, were done away with as well. According to my watchman, who accompanied them from a distance, no evidence was left. She apparently did away with everything in a scourge of ice.
I do not presume to know your motives in all of this, but the Queen is planning a party for the princess in two fortnights' time. Should you plan you next move, I would suggest this date. But please remember that there are only so many dragons in our keep.
I'll leave it at that. As always, no payment is necessary. We have faith that your plans will come to fruition.
In secret,
Keeper Donovan
It was now the second time he had laid eyes on the letter. And still he regarded it with much the same level of disbelief. Every part of him practically writhed with unmatched perplexity. A single motion? How, with what? He did well to remember that he didn't correspond with the keep for chatty conversation, but wished that they could be a tad more forthcoming in responding.
He folded the letter and then held it over the open flame of his candle. After scrawling his reply, he removed a small knife from his coat pocket. Pressing the blade to his palm, he let just a single drop grace the end of the parchment. The droplet seemed to sear the paper as a red plume evaporated into the air. All that was left was a perfect blood seal in the form of a four-winged dragon. Packing away the letter, he once again stood at his window where a messenger bird had been pecking away; calling on him. Having sent it, he sat back down restlessly.
Well, now that Theodoro's gone, I guess that leaves only me in this office. The silly man couldn't have been of much use to me anyway. Besides carrying papers to and fro, I'm not convinced he could even tie his shoes without his wife.
He looked around the glorified cubicle—a segmented ceiling with many parts to it, all with gold trim. The rug atop the polished floor was a deep purple color, adorned with Weselton's coat of arms.
A knock at the door took him from his brief reverie, causing him to glance at the clock. Is it that time already?
"Come in, Westergard."
The Queen had expected a relaxing evening, but nothing could've prepared her for what Anna had planned. Eventually they found themselves in a compromising position, laughing the world away.
As giggly tears broke through the dam of her tear ducts, the eye shadow and blush on her peachy face had melted into each other, making her look like a true-blue carnival attraction. Elsa had thought that the funny faces they would make as young children were hilarious, but this was in another league.
So they laughed and laughed, and then laughed some more. Having exhausted all possible stimuli that could've further driven their fit of giggles, they slowly calmed. Anna removed herself from the frills of her sister's dress, wasting no time in saying, "You were right all along." She wiped her face as best she could. "One of your ice dresses would be the best idea."
Elsa nodded in agreement. "But it was worth it," she said as she moved in a manner exaggerating just how tight-fit and over-the-top the dress was, "even if only to laugh with you like that."
No one saw her like this. No one. Except Anna.
It was an unspoken truth that only those closest to her were gifted even the slightest knowledge of. Her unflinching seriousness in the role of Queen Elsa almost certainly gave the impression that she was nothing more than the Ice Queen many knew her as. But it was there; the soft spot she had for her kin. My blood.
Anna had offered to choose a dress for her sister that she believed fitting for the festivities of her 21st birthday. Elsa, of course, obliged since she was home to tend to grievances and other stuffy royal things—she was more than glad at the offer.
Her little sister had, admittedly, given her too much credit in assuming that their frames were near-identical. Elsa was just the slightest bit envious that Anna could eat all the chocolate she wanted and never show heads nor tails of it. So when she had gone through all the trouble of fully fitting the ruby-red dress to her body, it became obvious that the seams were begging for the torture to end.
She and Anna had just laughed it off instead, coming to the conclusion that Anna needed to be a little more realistic about her assumptions. As a whole, perhaps. But she couldn't care less.
"I'm sure you'll come up with something amazing," Anna said as they finally decided to put her fashion direction to the wayside.
Elsa just smiled. They now sat at the foot of her bed. Anna had her chin in her hands.
"I forgot all about Kristoff!"
Elsa remembered how long it had taken her to finally commit her name to memory, much to Anna's chagrin. She regarded the thought humorously. "Would you have him wear the same thing he saved you in?"
Anna put a finger up, eyes closed. "Correction—you saved me." Then she lowered the digit and opened her teal eyes. "And what the heck makes you think I would suggest such a thing?"
"Because you're Anna."
The younger girl just huffed and stood up for a stretch. "Lucky for you since you'd probably go nuts without me." She gave Elsa a grin as she breathed out, arms coming down from their stretch.
You don't even know the half of it, Anna.
The powerful woman had become used to being looked at like some sort of tyrant, and her to-the-point way of running the kingdom had instilled in her the protectiveness necessary to go even further. But she was still human—that's what she told herself. That meant having to deal with emotions and problems just like anyone else, hence why she would spend every Saturday in Anna's company. She knew it was the only thing keeping her attached to the world.
It made her feel selfish at times; that maybe Anna would feel like she was simply a conduit for her less-seen side. Her little sister would always go out of her way to assure her that it wasn't a problem. In fact, according to Anna, she was more than okay with it. She was quite happy knowing that she got to see a side of Elsa that no one else did.
And they both saw the significance of it. They were truly there for each other. Anna, as her last blood relation and receiver of 13 years of isolation, was not going to be put to the wayside. Elsa.. well, Anna had always loved her. There was something about the redhead that made her galvanizing in every aspect.
Had her sanity—and perhaps humanity, as well—not been dependent on her sister, Elsa would say that she didn't deserve someone so full of life and love as a sibling. Instead she tried to never imagine life without the younger girl. She simply couldn't.
"What's this?"
"Oh, that thing?" Anna had picked up a piece of ice jewelry she made from Elsa's nightstand. "It's just an ice bracelet. Something I made in the early morning some while back." She already knew what to expect.
Her smile curled upwards. "Can I have it? Please?"
Elsa didn't bother herself with a playful refusal. "Of course. Here," she said as she did a wave of her hand about the bracelet, "that should keep you from melting it." Anna nearly dropped the icy art at the height of its imbuing. It flashed a pearly white briefly as the temperature got so cold it felt like burning needles, but only for an instant.
"So that's how you do it? You know, to keep stuff from melting?"
Elsa remembered the days when she had to make a permanent flurry over her creations to keep them from melting, save for her ice palace. It proved to be an inefficient method that required constant weather manipulation. Once she figured out the real source of her powers, she could just impart a piece of her being into something, thereby giving it never-melt status.
"That's right."
Anna smiled at the thought, slipping the bracelet onto her wrist. "It's like I'll never be without you," she said, giggling. "I love it."
Elsa just sighed and got up along with her. "I'm glad you feel that way." And then a yawn. "But your Queen is tired."
"Then go to bed, you sleepyhead."
As tempting as it may have been to just fall back onto the bed at that moment, she stood just a while longer. She figured she would at least wait until Anna left.
Instead, the younger girl went over to the window. She placed a hand against the glass as she looked out to the sky above.
And then her eyes strained to see the bright glint of an object hurtling towards her with blinding speed.
To be continued.
A/N: Sorry if the fluff came as a surprise, but it was the only way I could think to show how different Elsa is around Anna. She is not unfeeling, by any means. Like I said before—as if the cliffhanger isn't any indicator—you'll get something nice and dark next chapter.
