Author's Note: Thank you for all the lovely reviews, follows and faves! Glad you're all enjoying the fic so much, and I apologize for taking a tad longer than expected to upload this next chapter. But from here on out, you can expect about an update a week. Hope you enjoy!


Chapter 2: The Gossip

The longer Elsa stood and watched as Gerda and her assistants bustled about the bedroom packing her belongings into a series of luggage cases, the more she felt herself doubting every decision she had made in the past month.

I'm not actually going, am I?

It hadn't seemed any realer two weeks ago, when she received an unexpectedly prompt reply from the Southern Isles after sending her note accepting their proposal. At the time, though, she'd simply pushed that letter towards Kai to read aloud to her, refusing to allow herself to get so worked up again over a flimsy piece of paper.

Even though he'd read the words to her, and she had, at the time, acknowledged them, a part of her wondered if she had really understood anything he'd said at all.

I guess I have to go now anyway, whether I understood or not, she thought, defeated, and sat down in a chair by her dresser, turning towards her mirror.

A tired, drawn face stared back at her, and she frowned.

I haven't slept enough recently, either.

She pulled lightly at the bags under her eyes before sighing and rolling her head slowly across her shoulders, attempting to stretch the sore, tight muscles there.

A knock thumped against the door, followed by Kai's voice as Gerda opened it for him.

"Queen Elsa?"

She looked up at the door, her eyes blank from exhaustion, and nodded lightly. "Come in, Kai," she said gently, not rising as she normally would, and gestured for him to sit in the chair by her.

Seeing that he had brought her no books or particular documents to read in preparation for her visit—during his last appearance, he had produced a four-volume set of tomes entitled, ironically, A Brief History of the Southern Isles and Their Ruling Families—she was somewhat intrigued by his empty hands.

"You have some news to tell me?"

Kai nodded diligently. "Yes, Your Majesty. I wanted to inform you in advance of your departu—"

From the corner of her eye, Elsa noticed Olaf waddling in past the guards outside, and she regarded him with a smile, distracted from whatever Kai had started to say. She wasn't used to the snowman wandering into her room, since he and Anna were closer friends and usually he went directly to her.

Somehow, though, his presence was a welcome respite from Kai's serious stare.

And all of this.

"Olaf," she greeted him warmly, and the snowman paused in watching Gerda's and the other maids' antics long enough to glance back at her in surprise.

"Elsa!" he exclaimed, hopping over to her with a toothy grin, and his snow cloud, as always, was in tow overhead. "So you're really leaving, huh?"

Her smile faded at this question, and he pressed one of his twiggy arms to her lap in concern.

"Oh, uh, I didn't mean to sound so happy about it," he said with a sheepish look. "I mean, we're all going to miss you a lot when you go."

He added, after a pause: "Especially Anna."

Elsa tensed at this without meaning to, and she closed her eyes for a moment.

He's always so . . . straightforward, isn't he?

It was a quality she'd never had, and so she supposed she had subconsciously imparted her desire for it to Olaf when she'd created him. And amazingly, even after a year, he still managed to catch her off-guard with his remarkably pointed observations.

Her smile was small, but genuine. "I know," she said after a time, and gave Olaf's arm a slight, affectionate squeeze. "And I'll miss all of you, too."

Olaf looked reassured by her answer, and patted her leg.

"Just remember, if you need someone to beat up that creep who tried to kill you," he said with narrowed eyes, his voice lowering and his tone grave, "I got your back."

Elsa hid a giggle at this, doing her best to keep her expression just as grim.

"Of course, Olaf," she whispered back with a furrowed brow, though her lip twitched in amusement. "I wouldn't even dream of going to anyone else."

When the snowman was decidedly satisfied with this reassurance, he drew back from the queen.

"Good. Well, it was nice talking to you, Elsa," he said as he glanced at the women packing her bags again, and then back at her. "I'll see you later," he added with a knowing look as he slowly left the room.

Elsa couldn't help but give in to the laughter bubbling up inside of her when the door shut behind him, and she was doubly thankful that Kai didn't appear to disapprove of her doing so. She rubbed her eyes as the giggles subsided, smiling widely.

"I apologise for the interruption, Kai," she said as she straightened herself out in her chair again, facing him fully. "He doesn't visit often, so I thought it couldn't hurt to let him in."

Kai smiled. "On the contrary, Your Majesty," he said, bowing his head a little, "I think it's a good thing that he did visit. You were looking rather . . ." he paused, "weary before he showed up, if you don't mind me saying so."

She shook her head, and another sigh involuntarily escaped her lips.

"No, you're right," she admitted easily. "I've just been so . . . tired recently, what with preparing to leave and making all the necessary arrangements for Anna," she tried to explain, and her hands locked messily in her lap. "I haven't had much time to sleep, or even to—to . . ."

. . . to process all of this, she thought with a small frown.

Kai nodded in understanding, and patted her coiled hands gently. "It's been a difficult few weeks, I know," he said, and his calm voice relaxed her. "But I think you've held up remarkably well under the circumstances, my Queen."

She pinked. "I'm glad you think so."

His brow rose. "I know so," he remarked, and smiled when her stare met his in surprise. He coughed after a moment. "Anyway, I came here to speak with you about something . . . important," he said vaguely, and glanced at Gerda and the other ladies in the room.

Elsa immediately snapped to attention. "Yes, of course—I'm sorry for getting distracted earlier," she apologised quickly, though Kai dismissed the gesture with a shake of his head.

"There's no need, Your Majesty," he said.

She turned to Gerda in the next moment. "Gerda, would you mind giving us some privacy?"

Her lady-in-waiting nodded dutifully. "Of course, Your Majesty," she responded and waved out the other girls, leaving last so she could close the door behind them.

Once alone again, Elsa's gaze returned to Kai's. "So—what was it that you wanted to discuss?"

He cleared his throat. "Well, knowing that you've likely already finished the volumes I brought you during my last visit," he began, "I thought I'd better come to personally fill in the gaps as to the nature of the Isles' current rulers."

She swallowed nervously at his confidence in her studiousness.

I suppose this wouldn't be a good time to mention that I'm only halfway through the second book.

She pushed away the guilty thought, and nodded. "Of course. What about them, Kai?"

"As you know, Your Majesty," he replied, "the Isles are currently administered by Their Royal Majesties King Oskar of the Westergards and his wife, Queen Therese, and—as you're probably also aware—the King and Queen have sired thirteen boys during their reign, one of whom was—" Kai paused, and flushed with irritation at the thought of him. "Well, there's no need to speak his name."

Elsa's eyes narrowed. "No, there isn't," she agreed thinly, and a small flurry of snowflakes rushed past her cold expression.

Kai swallowed. Even being used to seeing her powers as he was, they were still somewhat terrifying in their beauty to behold.

"I—I wasn't sure if you'd heard any of the stories about . . . about Queen Therese," he said haltingly, hoping to pique her interest enough to bring some warmth back to the room. "There are many, you see, and, well . . . none paint in her in a particularly flattering light, to say the least."

Thankfully, Elsa's curiosity won out over her temporary anger at the mention of the traitor, and the snow disappeared.

"What do you mean, Kai?"

He relaxed a little, but his tone grew sombre. "I don't want to simply repeat awful rumours about her and the King to you, Your Majesty, lest they be factually inaccurate," he said judiciously, "but I feel it's my duty to make you aware of what has been said."

Elsa refrained from rolling her eyes at his hedging preface, doing her utmost to keep her expression clear and attentive.

"I understand," she assured him, "so please proceed."

He nodded at this encouragement, and continued.

"She's a very . . . unique individual, Your Majesty. A seamstress who rose up to become the Queen of the Southern Isles—it's practically unbelievable. And although her simple origins have endeared her to the public," he said with a frown, "you can imagine the kind of resentment it's caused towards her amongst the courtiers there over the years."

Elsa nodded softly at this, but her brows furrowed. "But how did she become Queen, then? And how did she maintain her position, when—as you say—so many dislike her for it?"

Kai looked uncertain. "Her rise to power is the most difficult thing to explain, I'm afraid, when trying to separate the truth from fiction," he admitted, his shoulders tense. "Some say she disguised herself as a courtier and seduced the King during a ball; others that she used magic to enchant him while he was visiting the village where she lived; and then, there are those who say—who say that she . . ."

When he didn't finish, his expression troubled, Elsa waited with bated breath.

"What, Kai? What do they say?"

He reddened, looking down. "Forgive me, Your Majesty," he said, contrite. "It's too awful a rumour to repeat, I think."

Elsa swallowed a frown at his hesitation, forcing herself to be patient with him.

"Please, Kai," she touched his hand softly, "it's all right."

He looked up at her again, and their eyes locked; his, she noted, were more anxious than ever.

"They say that she—that she killed someone," he said finally. "Someone close to her: a brother, sister . . . even her mother or father," he said, mortified. He added, more quietly: "And all that just to take the throne and marry a man who was old enough to be her father."

Elsa swallowed uneasily, suddenly understanding why Kai had been so uncomfortable in telling the tale.

It sounds like something out of a gothic novel, she thought darkly, her heart thudding faster in her chest, and just as hard to believe.

She stared apprehensively at her hands in her lap, then up at Kai's grave features.

"Is this—is any of this—really true, though?"

He frowned, his brows knitting together. "Honestly, Your Majesty, I cannot say for certain," he confessed. "But if even one of these things has any truth to it," he continued, eyeing her cautiously, "then you must absolutely be on your guard when you are there, for she is not a woman to be trifled with."

Obviously not, Elsa thought, and a strange chill ran down her spine at the image which her mind suddenly spun of the wicked Southern Queen: a tall woman, black of hair and black of eyes, with lips as red as the roses of summer . . .

"What does she look like?" she asked Kai suddenly, wanting to erase the dark picture from her thoughts.

He was taken aback by the query. "Well, I'm not entirely sure, since I've never met her myself, but . . ." He wracked his brain for a memory—of something that someone had said once to him about it, or something he'd read in the papers—and when he seemed to land upon it, he scratched his chin thoughtfully. "I vaguely recall hearing that she had eyes as bright as emeralds, and hair like maple leaves in autumn," he said slowly, "but I could be mistaken." He blushed a little. "All I know for certain is that she is meant to be beautiful—one of the most beautiful women in all the lands, in her youth—but, of course," he quickly corrected himself, "now, considering her age, I doubt she can hold a candle to you, Queen Elsa."

Elsa wanted to blush at the compliment, but she was too caught up in the depiction of the Queen's features to fully appreciate it then. She closed her eyes as she tried to picture the woman Kai had described in her mind: eyes as bright as emeralds, and hair like maple leaves in autumn—

Your sister is dead . . . because of you.

Her eyes shot open at the memory, and she gripped the fabric of her dress tightly, grimacing as she felt it become icy beneath her fingertips.

Why did I—why did I suddenly remember him?

As she calmed herself down again, the answer was clear to her; in fact, she wondered how it hadn't occurred to her even as the words had left Kai's lips.

Of course she would look like him, she thought to herself, frowning. Or, more likely: he looks like her.

"Your Majesty?"

She shook off the unpleasant thought, and greeted Kai's worried gaze.

"I'm sorry, I—I was off somewhere else for a moment," she excused herself with an unconvincing laugh. "Was that all, Kai?"

He didn't look convinced by her explanation, unsurprisingly. Nonetheless, he carried on, sensing her discomfort with the previous topic.

"Well, there are a few more details you should know."

Her eyebrow rose reluctantly in curiosity. "Such as?"

"King Oskar, for instance," he started with a much easier expression than the one he had worn for Queen Therese, "is also an interesting case. As I mentioned earlier," he continued, "he married the Queen while she was still just a girl, no more than fifteen—and he over forty."

Elsa held back a small gasp at this age difference, not having expected it to be quite that large.

"Fifteen?" she asked incredulously, to which Kai nodded solemnly.

"I'm afraid so," he confirmed. "And she was not his first wife, of course—he'd been married once previously, also to a younger woman, but she unfortunately died in childbirth, and he married Queen Therese mere months after the previous queen's passing." He pursed his lips in disapproval. "Had he not taken another wife and produced an heir to the throne, however, it was likely that one of his two younger brothers might have tried to depose him."

Elsa's gaze flashed with recognition at this information.

Maybe he didn't just get it from his mother after all.

Kai went on. "And even though he did go on to produce many heirs with the young Queen, I'm afraid that there are equally unhappy reports circling around the King."

Elsa stared at him expectantly, and he explained: "Although he's very advanced in age now—nearly eighty, I suspect—he's never been a particularly . . . respected ruler," he said, and from his tone it was obvious to her that he was reluctant to cast too many aspersions on the King while he lived. "According to my contacts who have visited the Isles, he's regarded as being quite, well, susceptible to the wishes of the Queen—even in official matters of state."

When Elsa's lips turned down in a sudden frown, Kai backpedalled, red as a cherry.

"Of course, that's not to say she doesn't have the right to advise him privately or even to attend such meetings in person, Your Majesty," he amended, though Elsa's look was as profoundly annoyed as before. "I meant—that is—well," he stuttered, looking guiltier than a chastised dog, "the Isles—they're not as progressive when it comes to this sort of thing."

He couldn't look her in the eyes, though her expression had lightened at this last comment.

"A woman's involvement in diplomatic affairs, trade, military issues—it's simply unheard of there," he explained. "Or, at least, it was . . . before the current Queen came to power."

Elsa considered this idea with wide eyes, but not with any particular sense of shock.

She had often suspected, in fact, that—rather than being intimidated by her powers to create snow monsters out of thin air or ice daggers sharper than the swords most soldiers carried—the real reason that some of the neighbouring kingdoms to the east had refused Arendelle's trade had more to do with her lack of a husband ruling in her place.

But I thought the Southern Isles wouldn't have such problems, she mused, since they are fairly close to us by comparison.

"So the Queen controls him," she surmised bluntly, "and thus his own people do not respect him."

Kai blushed at her forthrightness, unused to it. "In a matter of speaking . . . yes," he conceded. Pausing for a moment, he then added: "But there's something else about the King, as well, that has led to these strange circumstances."

"Go on," Elsa pressed him, and he fidgeted uncomfortably.

"Again, Your Majesty it's—it's not an easy thing to discuss in . . . polite society," he said reticently, "since it has to do with—with the paternity of the King's sons."

Her face flushed.

"Paternity?"

His cheeks were equally rouged. "Yes—at least, that is what the gossips say," he emphasised, sitting straight up in the chair. "But I must stress that such rumours have never been proven true, and the King himself has claimed all of his and the Queen's sons as his own, so . . ."

"But the possibility remains," Elsa cut in as he trailed off, her expression returning to its normal pallor. "Doesn't it, Kai?"

His answer was unusually circumspect.

"Yes, I suppose so."

She thought of him in that moment—tall and proud, a regal nose, fine auburn hair—and found it difficult to consider the possibility that he might not be of royal blood at all.

But there are far stranger things in this world than a handsome man of low birth, she reminded herself, and looked down at her bare hands in consternation.

"And what of the Queen, then?" she inquired, pushing away the stray thought. "If not her husband, then surely she, at least, must have the public's support?"

"A very astute observation, Your Majesty," Kai praised her. "Indeed, you are correct: the Queen appears to have taken great pains over the course of her reign to ensure that the public's affections remain in her favour," he noted, "mainly through the normal means of 'bread and circuses,' but also by way of public works projects and regular engagement with the people."

At this information, Elsa didn't know whether to admire the woman's tenacity . . . or to be even more apprehensive of her singular, overwhelming drive to maintain her hold on power through whatever means necessary.

Oh, Anna . . . if only there was someone out there who loved you.

The latter feeling towards the Queen won a decisive victory in that moment, and Elsa snapped her hand open and shut long enough to create a large burst of snow to hurl into the wall on the other side of the room.

"What about the brothers?" she asked suddenly, her forehead wrinkled in irritation. "Do you know anything about them?"

Kai nearly bolted out of his seat in surprise at the snow blast; soon, however, he realized that it was just another one of Elsa's "stress-related" moments, as he called them, and he relaxed again.

"I'm afraid I don't know much, Your Majesty," he confessed embarrassedly. "Only a few details about their occupations and such."

He cleared his throat as impatience finally began to surface on her features, and went straight to the point.

"The oldest—Magnus, I think his name was—is a general in the Army there," he began, "and the second-oldest—Finn, Ferdinand, I can't quite remember—is the head of the Royal Guard." He looked off to the side in thought. "The others are mainly diplomats and military officers in the Royal Army and Navy, from what I understand, but I'm sorry to say I can't recall their names at the moment."

"I'm sure I'll learn them soon enough," Elsa said with a disinterested frown, her eyes narrowing.

Seeing her crossness, Kai tried to change the subject. "Anyway, this all goes to show, I believe," he said somewhat nervously, "that this Queen Therese can prove to be a powerful ally for us."

"Or a formidable enemy," Elsa countered, her blue eyes sharp.

Suddenly, she was reminded of what Anna had called the Isles during their conversation at dinner two weeks ago—a "snake den," or had it been the "vipers' pit"? She was sure she was mixing them up somehow—but the descriptors now seemed more fitting than ever.

Kai swallowed, discomfited at the idea. "Yes, or that." He sighed, resigned. "In any case, I don't think that you going there will hurt our chances for friendship. And besides," he added, "in spite of their worsened reputation, the reports coming in recently show signs that their relations with previous allies have been improving, and some of these allies are the very same ones who have been . . . reluctant to partner on similar terms with Arendelle."

His observation went straight to the heart of the matter, and Elsa understood it keenly. The reminder that her kingdom remained cut off from important trade routes that it desperately needed to maintain a comfortable standard of living for all of its citizens—and that this was on account of her powers, or, perhaps, her gender and unmarried status—had the sudden and crushing effect of ending the futile debate in her heart that would otherwise have lasted until the day she set foot on the boat headed for the Isles.

"I understand," she said soberly, and her expression was hollow. "And I will go."

Kai's expression fell at her heavy voice, and he tentatively rested his hands on her shoulders, making her flinch.

"If you need me to, I—I would gladly accompany you, my Queen," he said seriously, and his grip tightened. "Just say the word."

Elsa shook her head. "No, Kai," she said softly, "I need you here. With Anna." Her gaze, still distant, locked with his. "She'll need your help more than I will." After a pause, she added: "And besides, I'll have Leif with me, and, well, you know him—he's as hard-nosed as they come. I'm sure he'll be able to guide me through the negotiations."

Kai sighed in defeat. "I understand," he acknowledged her point, and rose from his chair. "I'll do everything in my power to make sure things run smoothly in your absence, Your Majesty."

And with this concluding reassurance, he bowed gently to her and left the room—but not before shooting her his usual look of distress at the predicament.

Elsa released another blast of snow at the wall just as soon as Kai was gone, though she was mortified to find that it had created a crater in its wake.

I really have to stop doing that, she reprimanded herself, and finally withdrew a pair of thin gloves from a nearby drawer.

She felt a mixture of relief and irritation as she slipped them on, glancing up at the hole in the wall with a grimace; she supposed, as much as she had been trying to keep from wearing any kind of gloves recently, she still needed them while she was learning to control her powers.

However, as she stared down at the white gloves—a present from Kristoff for her last birthday (and one that Anna had nearly killed him for), since he'd observed, correctly, that she didn't have much in the way of variety with that particular accessory—a sense of dread struck her, and she clasped her hands together tightly.

I'll have to wear these all the time there, won't I?

It was a bitterly unattractive idea—in fact, it made her scowl to even consider it—but, all the same, she knew it would have to become a practical reality.

After all, bearing in mind the fantastical stories Kai had just regaled her with, coupled to her own experience with the progeny of the Isles' ruling family, she could easily imagine herself losing control of her temper—and where her temper flew, so, too often, did little shards of ice from her fingertips.

But she couldn't do that—or, more to the point, she couldn't let herself do that—anymore.

Unless, of course, her mind interrupted, a certain someone decides to show up.

She swatted away the cruel thought just as quickly as it had come, baffled by her sudden was no way she would be seeing him, anyway, since he was, as the letters from the Isles had repeatedly made clear, both cut off from the throne and living in exile on some far-off island.

But it's still an island in the Southern Isles, her brain reminded her, and she frowned at the notion.

Even if he were still in the Isles chain, she highly doubted—given what she now knew of Queen Therese and her great cunning—that his mother would dare to allow him anywhere near the main island of Strande, let alone even speak his name in Elsa's presence, lest she permanently ruin any chance their kingdoms had to finally make right what he had thrown into disorder.

She contradictorily reassured herself at last with the idea of the Queen's ruthless determination working in her favour, and moved to sit by the window.

Nevertheless, as she stared out onto the kingdom below, watching children play by the fountain in the castle courtyard under the warm, summer sun, something inside of Elsa stirred—and a coldly familiar feeling struck her heart.

Fear.


There was a knock on the door to her study, but she didn't bother looking up from her paperwork.

"Come in," she said automatically, signing her name onto what seemed like the hundredth document with a cramping hand.

Anna peeked her head out from behind the door, at first; however, seeing the queen so intensely concentrated on her papers, she ducked a little.

"Oh, sorry—I didn't realize you were still—"

Elsa finally glanced up, recognising the voice, and she stood in surprise.

"Anna! Please, don't leave," she said hurriedly, gesturing to an empty chair by the desk. "I was just about to finish, anyway."

Anna smiled brightly at this, though Elsa suspected that her younger sister knew that she was lying, since there was never a "finish" to the work of the Queen of Arendelle, even as the clock neared midnight.

"I just need to do one thing," Elsa excused herself, and rolled up the letter she had signed, hoping that she hadn't smudged the ink too badly inside. Once rolled, the queen blew softly into her open palm—creating a tiny, beautiful ice fractal in the shape of an official seal—and pressed it to the paper, freezing it shut.

Anna watched the process fascinatedly as if it were the first time, rather than the thousandth, that she were witnessing it; and Elsa, amused by her sister's enthrallment with the simple act, handed the letter to her.

Anna blinked, her eyes wide. "Can I—can I touch it?" she asked innocently, staring down at the seal of ice.

Elsa smiled. "Of course." After a moment, she added with a smirk: "I promise it won't melt."

Anna rolled her eyes at the remark, though it made her smile as well. "Well, duh," she said, and inspected the seal close-up. "It's your ice, after all." She lightly pressed her fingers against it, and there was a kind of reverence for Elsa's powers in her touch. As she stared at the creation, it seemed to glitter and glow with a hundred different colours, capturing and refracting every bit of light from around the room.

"It's so beautiful," she whispered, mesmerised.

Elsa reddened, unused to Anna being . . . well, stunned into such quietude.

"Thank you," she said awkwardly, and coughed suddenly, hoping to dispel the silence.

Anna blushed herself, embarrassed to have been caught ogling her sister's magic.

"Sorry," she said quickly, and handed the letter back to Elsa. "I just—it's just—well, it's really pretty," she explained, flustered.

Elsa smiled again at this, and squeezed Anna's shoulder tenderly.

"It's fine," she said gently, placing the letter back down on the table. Her eyes glanced behind Anna to check the grandfather clock at the opposite end of the room, and they widened when she realized what time it was.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, surprised, and turned her large blue irises onto her sister. "What are you doing here so late?"

Anna glanced at the clock as well—though she knew what it would say without needing to see it—and shrugged nonchalantly.

"It's not that late," she said, making Elsa's brow raise sceptically, "not for me, anyway." She was indifferent to her older sister's questioning look. "You know me. I don't really get sleepy, since I always have too much energ—"

She yawned suddenly, and Elsa grinned.

"You were saying?"

Anna's face heated in embarrassment. "I usually have too much energy," she mumbled under breath, and Elsa giggled behind her hand.

The queen tried to put on a more serious face after a moment, and sighed.

"Well, you should really try to go to sleep at a normal hour, Anna," she told her, though a smile broke through her attempt to give this advice. "But, seeing as I'm still awake as well," she conceded, "I suppose I shouldn't be telling you what 'normal' is."

Anna was taken aback by this self-aware comment, but managed to grin about it in the next moment, nudging her sister gently in the ribs.

"No, you shouldn't be," she agreed, and the two laughed.

As their laughter subsided, Elsa regarded Anna with genuine curiosity.

"So . . . what brings you here, then?" she asked, her brow furrowing. "It's—it's been a while since you visited, after all."

Anna bit her lip at the query, suddenly feeling awkward.

"Oh, uh, well, I guess I just—I just wanted to see you, and, uh, apologise about—about how I've been, lately," she said, and a small frown settled onto her pink lips. "I mean, you're leaving tomorrow, and I just didn't want—I didn't want things to be weird between us before you left, I guess."

Elsa's own smile dissipated at the reminder of her upcoming trip—not to mention the reminder of why she was still even up so late in the evening, the night before her departure, signing stacks upon stacks of papers.

Likewise, Anna's comments brought to mind the on-and-off frosty relations between the two sisters in the weeks since Elsa had made her decision to leave. The Princess had been in a near-constant irritable mood since Kai had started her on a strict schedule of lessons on the management of the state, the history of the Royal Council, and on the ruling families of their neighbouring kingdoms, leaving her little time to go off and see Kristoff, let alone talk much with Olaf inside the castle.

Seeing her younger sister so unhappy at this turn of events had roiled Elsa with guilt, though Kai was always quick to detect this and chide her for even daring to feel it.

After all, he would always say to her, Anna is to be the Princess Regent, and she must learn these things at some point or another—it might as well be now, while you are away.

Not wanting Anna to see her personal reservations with the situation, Elsa gestured for her sister to sit down by her in the spare chair, and warmly took the girl's hand into her own.

"I know it's been hard on you, too," she said kindly, and Anna looked down as if ashamed. "Learning so many new things, and not having much time to yourself . . . I really do appreciate everything you've done for me."

Anna looked surprised at Elsa's gratitude, not having expected to receive it. "It's—it's nothing," she tried to shrug it off, blushing. "It's not like I could just keep on doing whatever I wanted anyway, right?" She smiled tiredly. "It's just . . . I'm so bad at this stuff, Elsa!"

Elsa's lip twitched with a grin as Anna sighed loudly, flopping back against the plush chair.

"Memorizing the names of all these kings and queens and dukes and earls," she listed wearily, "plus all their fathers and grandfathers and great-grandfathers and great-great-great grandfathers . . ." she trailed off, and pressed her fingers to her temples. "It's impossible!"

Elsa smiled widely. "I'm sure you'll manage."

Anna stared back at her sister's smile with a sceptical frown. "I'm not even managing now," she groaned, and her eyes met Elsa's with begrudging admiration. "I really don't know how you do it," she said, a hint of envy colouring her tone. "I mean, I was always jealous of how smart you were when we were kids, but now . . ." She pouted. "I really feel like there's no chance that I'll ever catch up to you."

Elsa sighed quietly at this, and squeezed Anna's hand. "Don't underestimate yourself, Anna," she told her, and her eyes were steady. "You're strong, and kind, and—and you're braver than I could ever be," she assured her, though a flash of pain darted across her blue eyes at the admission. "I'm sure—no, I know that you'll do a fine job in my place."

She wondered if Anna had seen the brief regret in her expression—that dash of sorrow—but from the girl's warm cheeks and even warmer hand in hers, she somehow doubted it.

"Thanks, Elsa," she said quietly, and suddenly hugged her older sister tightly. "I'm really going to miss you when you're gone," she added in just above a whisper, and Elsa thought she could hear a small sniffle as Anna buried her face in her shoulder, her arms shaking.

"Anna?" she said concernedly, tentatively stroking the back of her sister's strawberry-blonde head. "Are you—are you all right?"

The girl hesitated for a moment, still clinging to Elsa; soon after, however, she separated from her with lightly red eyes, and sniffled as she wiped away any trace of tears, a bright smile plastered onto her features.

"I'm fine," she said cheerfully, dismissing Elsa's apprehension. "Just got caught up in the moment." She grinned to prove this, though she still had to sniffle a couple more times to remove any last evidence of her moment of weakness. "Anyway, I, uh—I guess I'd better let you get back to your work," she said as she stood again from the seat, glancing at the pile of letters. "Just, um, make sure you get some sleep tonight, all right? Because I don't wanna have to see you off with huge, ugly bags under your eyes."

Elsa's brow rose at this, and Anna reddened.

"Not that you ever get huge, ugly bags there, or anything," she stammered nervously. "I just meant—uh, you know—"

"It's fine, Anna," Elsa cut short her rambling with an amused look. "I'm a person like anyone else—and I do get huge, ugly bags under my eyes, too."

Anna's lips curled into a shy smile at this admission, and Elsa patted her on the shoulder. "Anyway, I promise I won't stay up too late—so you should go now, too, and get some rest."

Anna nodded reluctantly, and gave her sister one last, brief hug before finally making her way back to the door, still smiling. "See ya tomorrow," she said and waved in parting, waiting until Elsa had waved back to quietly close the door behind her.

Elsa smiled contentedly, even as the door clicked shut and Anna's footsteps faded into the distance.

I'm glad we could be on good terms before I leave, too, Anna, she thought, staring at the door peacefully, and I'll miss you every second of every day that I'm gone.

The clock struck midnight.