Author's Note: A huge merci/dankeschön to our translation assistants, a-kiirii-on-board, darkdraconis, and pascaldragon. Thank you so much!

La Guerre de l'Art - Un Portrait de Deux Lesbiennes Amoureuses
[The War of Art - A Portrait of Two Lesbians in Love]

CHAPTER 2

The Art of Reconnaissance

The next day's work was to complete the canvas, which Elsa did not infuse with the qualities her imagination had yearned for the previous evening. As was their convention, they took turns painting and being the model for the other's—though as often, Anna would paint some simple landscape or a bowl of fruit. She was capable of so much more, but being in the presence of such greatness as Elsa Maurer robbed her of the will to test her mettle.

Today, she had been asked to don a toga and pose with one hand ascended. She didn't ask why; it didn't matter. Any fool knew Elsa would turn a simple pose like that into unbridled artistry and make it look easy in the doing.

"You twitched your nose."

"Sorry," Anna whispered, ducking her head very briefly before correcting it to its previous position. "Here, right?"

"Just so, oui." As she resumed painting, she cleared her throat before asking, "That toga… you looked like you wanted to groan when I asked you to wear it, but kept silent."

"What? N-no, of course not! It's lovely, I… well… it's a bit unconventional for our day and age, isn't it? I'm not in a stage production." Then she hurriedly followed up with, "But I don't mind wearing it for your art, of course. Don't think that, s'il-vous-plaît!"

"Ah, ma chérie," Elsa began—the unbidden appellation fell tenderly from her lips, "you truly are the kindest… the most considerate… la fille la plus adorable I've ever met." Her eyes twinkled as if the stars themselves had alighted within them, and her mouth was stretched into the widest of smiles.

Anna, thoroughly flustered, replied, "O-Oh… oh… ummmm… Thank you." Her cheeks flushed, highlighting the freckles sprinkled heavily across them.

"There… hold that." The expression seemed to please the eminent artist. Whatever she had intended to paint before now fled like the night before the rising sun when she glimpsed the blushing smile of her muse, and she set to work.

"O-oui," Anna breathed, clearly even more nervous at being told how nervous she was leant itself to creation. As Elsa painted, she grew warmer and warmer. Butterflies filled her stomach, and she was breathing harder, heart pounding so hard it could be seen in the twitching in her neck of a vein that sent blood coursing through her entire body—even down into…

"Roxanna." The interruption spared her trying to come up with another thought to cut off the ones she had been drifting dangerously close to a moment ago. "What sort of clothes do you prefer? Out of curiosity."

The question caught her unawares. "Me? Oh… any clothes are better than none. Most of the time," she added with a titter. When Elsa stopped painting to fix her with an affronted glare, she again dipped her head in chagrin. "A-alright. Well, the common clothes I have are fine, of course. But… oh, I should love to have something fancy, with ruffs and cuffs, and wings at the shoulders! Ce serait magnifique, ce serait beau!"

"So like an angel?" Elsa continued painting.

"W-Well, sure, but let's make it simple. Simple but fancy."

"I'm not sure how that'll work."

She groaned, having a huge temptation to roll her eyes. "You're the artist, you'll do just fine."

"I've always thought you're much more suited to wear a uniform… Like our king?"

Anna raised her eyebrow and lowered it immediately after experiencing another cold glare from Elsa."H-Henry the Second? Oh lord, I would look hideous."

"I have great imaginations, Anna, I doubt you'd look as hideous as you said you'd be."

"Well, he does. Kind of."

Elsa laughed. "Watch it, he'll behead you."

She rolled her eyes at the empty threat, trying not to smile too much and ruin the paintings. "My, such ghastly talk this early in the day…"

"Oh?" Another chuckle fell from the blonde's lips. "And what sort of talk would you prefer? Philosophy? Literature? Our patron's horrid taste in fashion?"

Doing her best to titter without moving unduly, Anna said, "Not his fashion, but… I adore poetry. I used to read books of it when I was a girl, before… well, before."

Elsa's brush hovered where it was about to touch the canvas. Anytime Anna came close to broaching the subject of her upbringing, she withdrew into her shell like a frightened tortoise. Eyes glancing over, she mercifully granted her the reprieve by instead commenting, "Your arm should be more gracefully arced."

"Oh? Like this?" Elsa shook her head, so Anna tried again. "Here?"

"No, like- here." Laying aside her brush and palette, she rounded her easel and gently began to pose Anna's arm very gently. "Just up, and maybe a little this way. And don't be so stiff with your wrist."

"It's hard not to be, when I have to sit here for ages on end." At Elsa's snort, she added, "Again, it's a privilege, but… a painful privilege."

Nodding, Elsa then moved her hands down. "As long as I'm here…" She tucked Anna's shoulders back, reached down to pull her waist forward. Angled her leg more to one side. Anna took all of this in stride, practiced as she was at being a glorified mannequin for her fellow artist's use. "There."

"Do you want to cover me in candle wax to hold me in this shape?" she jested.

"Maybe later." Again, Elsa caught herself flashing one of her roguish grins, and squashed it as quickly as she could. That was not a habit she wanted coming back to haunt her—not after she took so much pains to move away from that old life! Instead, she fixed a pleasant smile on her face and tilted Anna's face up…

And saw that she had not been quite fast enough. The young redhead had most certainly picked up on this flirtation, whereas she had either missed or laughed off all the others. The look in her aquamarine eyes told her that she was decidedly uncertain whether or not she had imagined the entire thing… but the suspicion was planted.

Elsa wasn't quite sure how she was feeling with Anna's face in her fingers, and they were this close. "You… might want to stay still for a moment. Try your best," she said and the wording was quite confusing as it might've led to something else other than art. Elsa was fast enough to pick that up, and looked away.

Anna knew that look of uncertainty… but there was this adoring gaze in her eyes. She smiled, lovingly. "Ma chère…"

Elsa wasn't quite sure if she heard that correctly. "Quoi?"

"Go paint, I'll stay completely still."

That wasn't what she heard but… it eased the tension. Quickly, she got back to the canvas and her fingers had no way of holding the brush. Taking a deep breath, counting to ten, she looked back to see Anna in the same position but with a grin. God, this woman would mean death for her.

"Be still."

"I will, don't worry."

Mercifully, the next few minutes passed by in uninterrupted silence as Elsa worked her craft. Had this been created centuries upon centuries before, it certainly would've been sacrilege, she couldn't help but think as her eyes roved over Anna's painted form. Indeed, the girl could have very well rivaled the ancients' portrayals of the goddess of love. Aphrodite, Venus...The rippling toga that could only hint at the promise of her artful curves, the graceful arc of her arm, fingers come-hither—

Her hand froze, poised over painted Anna's hooded gaze and enticing smirk, promising...more.

"Are you done?" she heard the real Anna ask. "You stopped."

Startled by the question, Elsa's shaking hands grasped for the turpentine and the rag she kept around for instances just such as these. She had to destroy the evidence. No one could see the look she had brought to life on the face of someone who was… only a pupil to her. A protégée, someone she was supposed to foster into the world of art.

And someone she was supposed to gift-wrap for her wealthy benefactor. So much the worse if he were to see this… but she couldn't just destroy it, could she?

"What is it?" came the voice from her ear—causing her to leap out to the side, away from the easel, the paints… and Anna, who had come around to find out why she looked so panicked.

"Now, wait," Elsa began in a strained voice. "You mustn't- my work, it's not finished, y-you aren't supposed to see—

"It's beautiful, as always. But I can't help but notice…" The delicate hand gestured vaguely at the face, and she leaned in to gaze more closely. Inspecting her own apparent desire in the viewer. "Well… I can't imagine who you intend to buy this painting, but I'm not sure I want to meet them! What a letch they must be!"

Biting her tongue, Elsa shot, What a letch, indeed, at herself internally. She was mortified, and wanted to run screaming from the room, but that would only give Anna more cause to question her motives. Even so, she still found herself opening up her mouth and saying something much more damning than fleeing.

"It's not for sale."

Anna was confused, blinking once, twice… and yet, she just couldn't understand. Why spend the effort on making something so beautiful, and not gain any money from it? It was a stupid move, Anna thought. But she was sure Elsa had a reason for it… a reason that Anna just couldn't make sense out of.

"Not…Oh, is it a gift?"

"Not a gift." Anna frowned and noticed Elsa looking quite uncomfortable for once.

"Then what for?"

"Mon Dieu, Anna…" she sighed, fingers rubbing her tight temples. "It's… really nothing you should be concerned about."

Even more curious now. "Now, I'm actually concerned. What's it for? Who are you giving it to?"

"Nobody! It's for…" Elsa paused and she knew, she had just crossed the line. But it was too late, with the overly curious Anna and the mouth that she just couldn't keep shut.

"Me." They were both startled out of their thoughts by the interruption—neither of them had heard Hans open the door, let alone enter the room. "Elsa was painting this for my private collection." He smirked.

"O-oh!" Anna laughed gaily, indulging him as always. "What a flatterer! Or a scoundrel! I can't decide!"

Chuckling under his breath, he walked up to the painting and inspected Elsa's work. "Parfait, I love it! You brought out the passion in her eyes so effectively."

Implication lurked within his tone, but Elsa was much more used to concealing her inner heart from Hans than from Anna. By the time he looked to her again, she was standing aloof, gazing at nothing. "Well, I knew all too well what you would want, pig. But… yes, I'm rather pleased with how it turned out. Shall I have it sent directly to your rooms once it's dry?"

"Oh, no… no, no, no, it will be shown off in Orléans! Not for sale, as you said, but I must allow people to gaze upon the beauty of our dear Anna before she is hidden away in my home forever." As he spoke, his hand took Anna's and left a chaste kiss on its back, and she tittered obediently.

Knowing her place. Trained. That nearly angered Elsa enough to bring the canvas down over his head, but she suppressed that desire, as she did all of her desires. Panache was one thing, but recklessness and rage were to be managed, not given free reign. No matter how much she wanted to remove his hand from her elbow, to prevent him from steering her from the room and toward the parlour, where he could ply her with drinks and attempt his own brand of charm.

"This is your fault, you know," she snapped at the "come hither" version of Anna on her easel before storming out of the room like a bull in the streets of Pamplona.

Elsa, alone back in their shared room, wallowed in her own misery.

Why? She asked herself, as her tears trailed over the crest of her pale cheeks—meandering their way down until they fell to her bed.

Why does she hold such sway over me?

Why can I not control myself around her?

She felt a stray tear fall onto her hands. Why am I crying over this?

She clasped and unclasped her hands repeatedly, wringing them together each time they met.

Why did that BRANLEUR PRÉTENTIEUX have to choose HER?

And that painting… Bon Dieu, that painting!

Drying her eyes on the hem of her paint-stained long-sleeved shirt, Elsa rubbed all over her face and crossed to the window. The painting was far more telling than anything else she had done, and she was positive Hans knew it—or suspected, at the very least. As her knuckles turned white from gripping the sill, she tried to alter how she thought about Anna, roll back the tide… and it worked, to a degree.

Anna is part of my job now. I will help bring her and Hans together, and get my own chateaux, and be done with this abominable situation for good. She is… more enamoured of him, anyway. This is in everyone's best interests. Especially mine.

Again, she had to admonish herself; Anna was only enamoured of Hans! The young mademoiselle was not a deviant like her, there was no sense in agonising over such a matter when it was entirely irrelevant. Swearing under her breath, she stomped off toward the bathing room to cleanse both body and mind.

Two hours later, Elsa was well-scrubbed and lounging easily in a chair in the corner of their room, a book open in her lap and a glass of wine balanced in one hand, garbed in another loose white shirt and trousers. After the refreshing bath, she had finally been able to focus on François Villon's verses instead of obsessing over the worst aspects of her current state of living. The dark subject matter helped with said distraction.

Alas, she was then distracted from the distraction. As was her wont, Roxanna strolled into the room at a late hour wearing a pristine chemise and her hair in simple braids for sleep, slippered feet dancing over the hardwood. One of Hans's parties always put her in such a pleasant mood.

Elsa paused, knowing that once her protégée realized that she was awake, she was apt to launch into a recount of the evening's festivities—something she decidedly did not want to hear, particularly after the day's events.

Unconsciously, her eyes trailed over Anna's slim womanly figure. The forest green chemise loosely cascaded around the hips then became more form-fitting as it moved up her torso to conform around her bosom—as if sculpted there—where Elsa's eyes lingered before she snapped out of her trance.

She rapidly shifted her gaze upwards to see that Anna was still distractedly arranging things around her bedside—she was not as fastidious as Elsa about keeping her living area tidy.

Thank the heavens.

"Oh, how I love a ball," Anna sighed as she finally sat on her bed, leaning back on her palms to gaze up at the canopy overhead. "I never thought I'd get to attend one, and now… my luck has changed so much! Bordeaux and caviar, and every variety of pastry! And the music!"

"Indeed," Elsa grunted, tipping her glass up to drain the last of the wine. There was a long silence, and Elsa had assumed Anna was merely reflecting on the evening… but when she glanced up, she saw the girl watching her with a curious, level gaze. "What?"

Leaning on her elbow, she rolled slightly to look at her roommate more properly. "You don't, though. You find parties completely tedious. Does that mean… you were aristocratie in Allemagne?"

"Oh, hardly; I was as hard-working with a brush as I am here. Though decidedly better off than you were before Hans plucked you from the gutter."

Anna's face fell. "Y-yes. I am grateful for that, I was… worthless."

"That isn't what I meant," she corrected, setting the glass aside. "Just that… I was only speaking about monetary status, not true worth. Your heart is more precious than gold when weighed against others." But the instant she had finished speaking, she clamped her lips shut. That was just a hair too far.

Anna stared at her, shock clearly written across her face. "You…" she began hesitantly, "you truly believe that... don't you?" Her voice was low, timid even.

Elsa could only nod, for fear of anything further slipping unbidden past her lips. Her face was already alighted with a warm rose across her cheeks. She could only count her stars that the corner she occupied was relatively dark—the light she had read by came from behind her, concealing her tell.

She cleared her throat, shaky fingers reaching up to turn a page in her book with feigned nonchalance. "I've encountered many characters of dubious repute before we ever met, Anna. Trust me when I say that you are a veritable star amidst the darkness of France."

Elsa bit her tongue this time at the silence that followed, cursing herself in the relative safety of her mind. She had done it again.

"Very well," she heard Anna say at last, and the smile was evident in the lilt of her voice, "I trust you."

If only I could trust myself… But that thought was unproductive. When she glanced up again, it was to see Anna kicking off her slippers and sliding beneath her sheets, readying for sleep. She raised her voice to ask, "Is the light bothering you?"

"Not at all," she yawned. "It's comforting, knowing you're here. A friendly presence… after all those nights spent alone, afraid…"

"I see." Her eyes returned to the page, but she wasn't taking in any of the words. Only turning that over and over in her mind: Anna found her presence friendly and comforting, instead of threatening. Unwanted. Disgusting. So many adjectives that had applied to her in Germany…

"Elsa?"

"Oui, ma chère?" Again, she mentally kicked herself, but knew it wasn't altogether untoward to say such a thing to a mere friend. Only somewhat. Luckily, she had not slipped again and called her chérie; that was harder to cover up.

"Do you… have any reservations about… our patron's intentions toward me? Any at all?" Clearing her throat, Anna rolled so she was looking more in her direction. "Your reasons don't have to be made public, I just… want to know what you're feeling about Hans."

I feel a great many things towards Hans, most of which lie firmly on the negative side of the spectrum.

"One certainly wouldn't have to worry about lack of food or sleeping on the streets while under his care," Elsa found herself answering as diplomatically as she could. "He is...wealthy. His face leans on the side of decent, though his sideburns leave much to be desired."

A delightful giggle floated from within the auburn-haired protégée's throat as she doubtless envisioned the furry red monstrosities. "Ahhh, he loves them so! And… I suppose you're right about the rest. At times, I find him very tiresome, but then again, isn't that normal with any relationship?"

"Oh, I don't know. I could never find you tiresome." Clearing her throat self-consciously, she turned the page, even though she wasn't at all certain she had finished what she had been reading on the one previous. "Then again, we are mere colleagues; your relationship with him would no doubt be… quite different. Should it go that route, I mean."

"Very true." Another laugh, more subtle, like a creme sauce brought to a low boil. "Perhaps I should be courting you rather than he."

What? Elsa looked up sharply from her book. Even in jest, that was a comment that brought heat to her cheeks. Maybe Anna wasn't intending to tease, but she had accomplished it effortlessly. Which may have been the motivating factor behind her following comment.

"Perhaps so. After all, I am wearing trousers."

Elsa paused a moment hesitantly while she watched for the young woman's reaction—of which there was none visible—before she continued with the jest, "Though, I believe custom would dictate that I should be the one to court you."

"Then you had better hurry up, before Hans beats you to my hand in marriage." Anna's tone was light, but not as light as before. There was the possibility—miniscule, but real—that she wasn't being entirely sarcastic.

"If I thought I could provide a better life for you than he, I might consider it…"

They both fell silent. The entire room was now a mausoleum as the tone shifted from whimsical to urgently oppressive. The lantern behind Elsa's head flickered ominously, casting stark shadows out across her page from her hands. They looked gnarled and twisted, like trees along the shores of the River Styx.

"Elsa…" Her voice held a hint of sadness. "Hopefully you won't tease me for this—well, or you will. But… if you were a lord, I would have been yours already. You're the only true friend I have in the world, and… and oh, how I wish I could marry a man who would be a friend to me the way you are."

Elsa's frenzied heart nearly gave out, an immediate stop. This was the first time they'd had such private conversations together—a conversation through which Elsa could only assume that Hans… just wasn't right for her. But it was rather a bold assumption to entertain.

And that grin! It was adoring, but Elsa knew that behind it lay confusion.

"And if I could… If it wasn't a man, I'd rather it be you."

She twitched.

It felt as if a vice of some sort had clamped around her throat, for she could offer no words in reply. Again, she thanked the darkness for hiding the heat rapidly consuming her face, though she wouldn't be surprised if her cheeks could provide a glow all their own with how brightly they burned. Those thoughts that had earned her hushed whispers and second glances back at Germany pushed with greater insistence at the edges of her mind.

A snore reached her ears, startling her out of her stunned stupor.

It seemed Anna had been too exhausted by the festivities to continue further...thankfully.

Mon Dieu, what on earth am I doing? she swore at herself, shoving the book onto the floor and pulling her legs up into the chair. Am I really so very weak as this?

Six days and many scattered conversations later, Elsa had gleaned a fair bit of information from the hapless young thing across her chambers. During painting sessions, meals, even dressing, she tried to slip in at least one question about her secret desires, her hopes and dreams, her likes and dislikes. It made her feel distinctly dirty to go rooting through her wardrobe to find what sizes she wore, but she did the deed—all for the sake of her commission.

That it gave her the opportunity to brush against Anna's undergarments was something she took great pains not to view as a fringe benefit.

As fate would have it, a box arrived at the door when Hans was meeting with his all-too-important father, hobnobbing with nobility of which a common girl such as Anna would not be allowed to come within a hundred paces. Therefore, there was no real chance for Elsa to squirrel it away before she was asking.

"What's in the box?"

In vain, Elsa tried to hide it behind her back. Her mind raced for an answer that wouldn't have the girl's suspicion piqued, but judging by Anna's narrowed eyes and mischievous smirk, it would be of little use to deflect at this point. Especially with Anna stepping closer, and Elsa retreating until her back hit the nearest wall with a dull thud, the box's edges digging into that very back.

"It has to be something good," her protégée teased, voice adopting a more melodic tone, "Come on, let me see!"

Elsa laughed nervously and gripped onto the side of the box, tightly. She felt Anna's hands on top of hers.

"Come on, Elsa! I want to know!"

"I-I'll show you if you could just step away for a second because…" Elsa suddenly became very conscious of how close the two of them were, struggling and fighting for the box that Elsa would eventually show. After all, it was Anna's little gift and it should've been a surprise. And Anna's eyes were clear, looking straight into her own.

"Because?"

Her heart quickened when she too aware of the warm body that was pressed against hers and the arms that was reaching behind her, hugging her.

The silence was deafening with laughters that faded with each second that passed, and every breath taken.

God, too close… it shouldn't be like this.

"F-fine!" Elsa burst out, only to get Anna to stop making her life into a waking version of many dreams she had tried so hard to forget. "Get off me and I'll show you, even though I'm not supposed to!"

A pang of regret flooded through her when Anna stepped back, but it was easily soothed by the relief that she wouldn't have to keep enduring that exquisite torture any longer. However, before she could produce the box, Anna's smile slipped a notch. "Oh… why Elsa, you look so flushed. Are you alright? Did I… that is, I wasn't trying to upset you—do you have a heart problem?"

"No, I… no. I'm fine, just… not used to playing like children." When the freckle-faced girl winced, Elsa felt guilty for making it sound like she was disapproving, so she followed up by bringing the box around from her back. "Alright, I did promise—but you have to act surprised when Hans gives them to you."

"Gives… me what?" Her eyes sparkled, and Elsa wanted to dive into them. "Gives me what, what, what?!"

Slowly, the lid was tipped open, and Anna gasped. Inside was a wooden box with a glass pane set into the lid, so that the contents were clearly visible. However, what she said was both amusing and underwhelming.

"What… is that in there? Dirt?"

"Mon Dieu, of course it's not dirt!" Elsa exclaimed before she could help herself, fighting back the urge to laugh in the girl's face. It would be rude, for one, and she already felt guilty enough as it was. The pout on Anna's face told her she must be close in failing to do so.

"The Spaniards call it chocolatl," the blonde explained, "Someone found a way to harden them into a more solid shape—they're a lot easier to smuggle in this form rather than carrying it in a flask."

Anna's teal eyes widened as she leaned forward. "Are you saying...these are illegal?" she whispered in what seemed like mock horror. Already her lips had curved back into a mischievous smirk, and those eyes dropped down to regard the treats with new interest. That smirk faltered a little as her brow furrowed. "These...can be eaten, yes? You mentioned a flask, so…"

"Of course," Elsa all but snorted, and a slight smile found its way onto her face. "Would you...like a taste?"

Anna pondered, glaring at the solid brown substances that were shaped as little pebbles. She did find the smell quite… irresistible and fragrant, but she honestly wouldn't know what it'd taste like. Dear God, it looked like feces to her and it probably would taste like one too!

"H-Have you tasted them?"

Elsa blinked. "No, but I've heard they're very sweet and delicious."

Anna was even more suspicious as Elsa took a piece out, motioning it towards her. "Y-You said, Hans was supposed to be taking it to surprise me right? I shouldn't be eating one."

"Anna, it's just one, I'm sure Hans wouldn't even notice one is missing." She grinned. "I think you'll be more excited to know that you'll be having more later if you take this one."

"How would you know?"

Elsa shrugged. "Pure guess."

Still dubious, Anna took the offered bit. It felt a bit like chalk to her, but also began to melt very slightly the longer she held it. And while the look of it was unappealing, the smell it released was somehow the most divine thing she had ever scented on the air.

"Well… Allons-y!" Then she tipped it up into her mouth.

Smiling, Elsa watched the expression slowly morph from puzzlement, to clarity, to overwhelming joy. A sound not unlike a moan floated between them, and Elsa stubbornly kept her thoughts civil. Anna's eyes slid closed as she swayed back and forth, completely lost in the whirlwind of new sensation.

"So then… better than dirt?"

"Better than anything! Oh, Elsa, I can't believe this exists—and I've never had it before! Can this be real?" She spun around once, laughing gleefully, then came to a stop gazing at her mentor. "Try some! Dieu, it's so good!"

Shaking her head very gently, Elsa eased the lid closed. "One and one only; otherwise the box will look too empty, and Hans will blame me for letting you glimpse the package early."

"Aww… but you can't go without trying this, you absolutely…" Then she spied the smears of sweetness on her thumb and forefinger. Without another thought in her head, she thrust them toward Elsa's face. "Go on—at least this much, you have to!"

Elsa's face flushed yet again. "I-I…" she stammered.

"Elsa, s'il-vous-plaît… you must try some." Anna forcefully pushed her forefinger into Elsa's mouth, onto her tongue.

She realized that she was not being given a choice in the matter, and slowly rolled her tongue around the appendage. The sensation of the chocolatl combined with the soft warmth of Anna's finger inside her mouth was too much for her—a deep moan escaped her.

Elsa froze in horror at the slip, certain that Anna would immediately recoil and disgust would finally take its place on her face...but instead the girl simply pressed her finger more insistently. Her gaze flicked up, heat gathering upon her cheeks at the unexpected action, and noticed that a similar flush had settled on Anna's freckled visage.

I...I have to stop this.

Elsa pulled away, mouth parting at the same time Anna withdrew her finger. She kept her gaze firmly fixed on the box in her hands as the seconds passed. Her heartbeat felt impossibly loud in her ears, threatening to drown out the myriad of thoughts spiraling about in her head.

"This… I'm sorry, I-I didn't—"

"No, it's… it's fine."

Elsa couldn't help feeling the intense gaze of Anna's crawling up her skin and God, she could still taste the sweetness of the chocolatl—possibly even the sweetness of Anna's finger. No, she shouldn't be thinking like this… shouldn't even have acted so… so indecent. Anna was going to be someone else's wife!

But if she were yours…

Elsa forcibly shoved the errant thought to the deepest corner of her mind, her grip tightening on the box in her hands. With great effort, she managed a calm, "I'll bring these to his quarters."

"But you haven't eaten the chocolatl off my thumb…" Anna even proffered it, ready to please.

"You eat it, I… just too sweet for my palate." This technically was not a lie; having Anna in the mix sweetened it drastically, yes. It was the reason she could not have any more. "Maybe another time. Now, if you'll excuse me…"

And this time, Anna let her go, a confused and wistful expression haunting her eyes. Elsa did not look back to examine it, only stubbornly put one foot in front of the other until she was gone from that abominable situation.

The situation… and the dangerous possibilities it held.

Our contributors: forkanna/Jessica-X, Cyrianu, iamrottingunman/iamrottingbitch, The Wandering Quill