Everything passes by in a blur of sounds and sights and colors and magic.
Of adventures and games, mischief and silliness.
Of being together so freely and joyfully.
Of laughter.
Elsa trots behind the guards, imitating their rigid marching with her tongue sticking out and eyes crossed while Anna laughs in fits from the stairs.
Anna sticks grapes in her nose and shoots them out one nostril at a time and it makes Elsa laugh so hard she falls off her chair. Their parents' glares snap them back into place, but they couldn't stop giggling for the rest of the meal.
Once they raced around in the stables with horseshoes tied to their hands and feet, clopping around like ponies. They would have gotten away with it too, if it hadn't been for Anna accidentally knocking a rake over, opening a latch which let one of the horses run loose. It took the stablemaster a day to track it down, and they were forced to sit in separate corners facing the wall for an entire afternoon as punishment, but it was completely worth it. They might have been removed from each other, but they were never apart.
They know every inch of the castle from years of hide-and-seek but from the first thaw of winter, the outside is theirs to own. Elsa yearns for summer; for the way sun dances on her skin, warming her outsides the way Anna warms her from within. Not one minute of sunshine is wasted indoors, the months of cooped-up long winters finally over and their freedom restored.
Their favorite spot to picnic is under a weeping willow tree in the courtyard. They practically live there during the summers, weeks passing in the pages of the books Elsa reads out loud to Anna. They get lost in romance, swashbuckling adventures of pirates and princesses, thieves and orphans. Anna hangs onto every word, gasping in surprise and twisting her hair around her fingers during stressful parts. Elsa delights in Anna's reactions, and she does her part to give each character a different voice and drawing out the drama or excitement. She loves reading, but she loves reading to Anna more.
They cloud-gaze for whole afternoons, squinting at the sky until the sun burns their eyes. With a wave of her hand, Elsa keeps their lemonade cold for hours.
They make up their own language during their lessons, blinking in code and speaking gibberish to everyone except themselves. Their teacher raps their knuckles with a cane, and though it makes their hands throb, their eyes still twinkle.
Late at night they make vows to each other, solemnly sworn in the veil of moonlight and promises, to always be good and kind and fair. To rule together no matter what. They're princesses first, but sisters always and Elsa and Anna are a proper pair of bandits, sharing everything together and stealing the world for themselves, making it their own.
