A/N: You could almost call this some meat and potatoes. This brings up quite a bit about their past and shows a good bit more sisterly stuff.

Next chapter will pick up where this diverges.

"Why're you showing me this?" Anna was confused. Really, really confused.

"To make you feel a little dumb." Elsa stuck out her tongue.

Anna just shook her head. She had no idea why she was the one holding the pencil. The top of the paper said something about calculating the parallax between these two stars that were some ungodly distance from each other. And there was some other information; looked to be helpful stuff added on by the professor. No big deal. Pfft.

"You know I can't do it, you stinker," she said, shoving the paper back over towards her sister.

The elder pulled back a drawer on the face of her enormous mahogany desk, rummaging through the contents. Even if they were meticulously well-kept, there were too many for a search for a particular item to not be a little messy. If only I could keep my clothes that organized.

Elsa pulled out her protractor, then put everything back where it was, knowing she'd have to do it all again when she was done. "Okay," she did a swatting motion at Anna, "I'm through torturing you. Let me finish up this work."

Anna rose from the chair and left her to that. She sighed as she shut the door to a mere crack, shaking her head. Having a brainiac for a sister isn't as easy as everyone thinks.

She could swear that no one really got it. It wasn't that Elsa was like a big deal, or anything; it was just that the very idea of her was almost unthinkable—a gorgeous blonde who: 1) always wore her hair in a casually-done braid, messy bangs accentuating her hairline; 2) managed to look incredibly sexy in dorky T-shirts and shorts; 3) was smart as hell; and 4) couldn't stop thinking about her little sister. With her smarts, she often wondered what was keeping her around. Almost all of it went totally over her head.

Come to think about it, it's been a real long time since I've asked her why she likes any of that stuff. Maybe I will later.

Then that thought from moments ago came back to her (No one really gets it.). She realized she was wrong. There was one person who got it; her best friend, Meg.

The house smelled of rosemary and lemon; the former because she had just cooked some lamb, and the latter because it was the brunette's favorite air freshener.

Hercules had said nothing when Anna knocked on the door. After opening it he simply went down into the basement to do some pre-dinner workout that would probably blow her mind.

After walking a couple of feet into the house, she stood and looked around the place. Just above her head as she shut the front door was a pretty nice-looking chandelier, and under her feet was a frilly rug that could probably hold enough dirt for 10 thousand visits from the outside. As she took her shoes off and placed them in the rack, a familiar furry face greeted her hand. "Hey there, Esmeralda," she said smiling. The cat crooned a meow, causing her to vocalize something similar in response. Just as she was rubbing the cat's belly, "Fancy seeing you here, Anna."

The cat meowed again, wanting her attention back. "Hey, Meg," she said, petting the cat slowly. Her gaze went unfocused, not really looking to anything in particular. Just past Meg, a small table sat with seven chairs. It had a showy arrangement atop it with a sterling silver tea set. Had my first tea party there. She could admit that she was a little slow on some things, but she couldn't help but wonder why Meg still had it. This is her house, after all. I wonder why she kept this after the move?

"How long's it been since you had lamb?" Meg asked her with one hand on her hip. She was standing just outside the reach of the kitchen, the light from behind her draping over her shoulders like a waterfall.

"That's an easy one—over here about a year and a half ago." Anna smiled, standing up slowly. "You're the only Greek I know." After a snicker, she added, "And Herc, of course."

Meg shook her head in that fashion any good friend would when met with unassuming ignorance. "Some people like stuff other than beef and chicken, too, you know."

Anna imagined that, had she been right next to her, Meg probably would've given her a noogie. She nonetheless took the jeer in tow, smiling dumbly as Meg turned to let her into the kitchen.

Part of her hadn't left the ground, however; and said part was stuck in remembrance of the old days spent at Meg's old house.

Anna could still see the sprawling backyard. It had a trampoline, a swimming pool, and even a ferris wheel built by Meg's dad. When she came over most of the time, she lounged in the hammock and read. Or she just talked to Meg. Rapunzel was there, too, sometimes. Some days she'd play touch football with Kristoff and Olaf, sometimes falling into the pool—and on days when she was wearing make-up it was even funnier.

There was that one time Meg had invited them over (Me and Elsa, who else?) for a sleepover. Anna was only 14 at the time, just starting high school. They tuckered each other out around the fire they made outside, telling each other stories. Meg even had a flashlight for dramatic effect.

After they told stories, they enjoyed some s'mores. The graham crackers may have been a little oversized (I wasn't about to make a mess by breaking them up, either.), but it was fun watching the marshmallows roast. They hadn't needed to get their hands dirty by going to get sticks because Meg had metal rods for that particular purpose.

Then they went back in and got into their pajamas and just talked about stuff. Elsa, for the most part, just nodded her head and giggled along with the other two. She did occasionally say something about their mom. She had just conquered breast cancer that year. Or, if it wasn't something about their mom, it was something on the nerdy side. The other two girls were curiously delighted, much to her surprise. It had made her feel warm inside.

There was no pillow fight that night (I think we all know that cliché). But Anna was surprised that—after reading some funny stuff from one of Meg's old diaries and tucking in for bed—she found a hand tugging on hers whilst she was under the covers.

"Anna? Anna get up," she whispered.

"Elsa?" She reached under her pillow for the black, blocky device that allowed her to talk to people whenever she wanted. Feeing its presence, she grabbed it and removed it from the fabric-y hovel. 2 a.m. "Go back to bed, Elsa. It's 2 in the morning." She closed her eyes again, letting her hands go limp as she slumped back into the mattress, where her sleeping form had imprinted in it.

"No." She felt the hand pull much harder, hard enough to wrench her up and out of the bed whilst covers flew off and away. Thankfully it wasn't too noisy or else Meg would've been woken as well. "What's the big idea, Elsa?" She whisper-yelled. It wasn't that she was pissed, but she did want to sleep. She glanced back to where she was just sleeping, and already very much longing to return to.

"I couldn't sleep." The blonde curled her fingers in front of her. Anna eyed how she fiddled with them: on each hand she would rub her thumb along the tips of all her fingers, going backwards and forwards as she thought. It was one of her only nervous ticks.

"Elsa," she sighed, feeling her super bed-head cluttering her vision. She reached up and with a firm grip flung the hair from out of her eyes. Much as she tried to glower, the sheer lack of light made it pointless to even try. "What's bothering you?" She stood with her arms to her sides, and she could tell that Elsa wasn't even two feet away. They were directly in the middle of Meg's room. Very spacious, but still, at least one of them was trying to sleep.

"It's about earlier." She rustled her fingers in the hem of her shirt.

"What about earlier?"

"I was the only one who didn't tell any stories."

Her eyes stopped looking anywhere. She could've looked to the diorama lining the edge of Meg's large window/hide-away, or the fan that was rotating almost silently overhead, or to her thrown covers and just go back to sleep. Instead, she looked only at her older sister incredulously.

"You mean to tell me you've stayed up for—what—4 hours now, because you didn't tell any stories out by the fire?" It was getting hard to whisper. But it all seemed so baffling, ridiculous. Why had that been enough of a reason to be a freaking insomniac? Why did she have to wake her up to tell her?

As Anna looked across to her she noticed how, like usual, Elsa's hair was remarkably undisturbed. She had imagined that she probably tossed and turned under the sheets feeling guilty, but by gosh her hair would stay perfect, regardless.

Elsa shook her head, bangs swinging as her braid slunk over her shoulder and resting across her front.

"You don't understand, Anna."

The redhead groaned, and feared that for a moment that it might wake the brunette. Out of the three of them, none ever snored, but Meg slept so silently you'd think she was in cryo-sleep. "Elsa, what is there to understand? Were you offended that we didn't ask you to tell some or something?"

In that moment, truth be told, Anna only knew how much she wanted to get back to bed and continue dreaming about being a famous painter named Florelli. Her haste made itself unknown to her, however, as did her currently crinkled brow and hair that looked almost akin to a hedgehog. Her skin even prickled slightly as the fan's breeze ghosted over her form.

"Anna." Elsa took a deep breath, which was saying something because you could actually notice a rise in her abdomen, despite her very slim frame. She wiped back her bangs with both of her hands, one hand doing a slow motion sweeping all the strands, and the second one doing a more cursory movement to restore the volume. Was this a nervous habit as well?

"It's just that," she said, her voice sounding as puny as a little baby hummingbird being whisked away by the wind, "I've never told you any before."

The room seemed to give way slightly under the newfound gravity of the situation. Cogs were whirring inside Anna's head, trying to make sense of what Elsa made seem like a very weighty admission.

The truth was that Elsa had read stories to her before, like read her bedtime stories and stuff like that. They had grown up together learning how to read, though Elsa never stuttered as much.

But it hit her right where it counted—right smack in the head.

"I-I—" now she was twiddling her own thumbs, one hand coming up apprehensively to smooth her hilarious hive, "I don't even—"

"It's alright," Elsa said. Anna still just looked at her dumbfounded. Her hand was shaking just barely in the tangles of her hair, her other being held uselessly out in front. If she were in motion it would've looked like she was doing a jog while trying, hopelessly, to fix her hair.

Elsa slowly reached out, hearing a slight crinkle in the fabric of her pajama shirt as her arm outstretched. She could feel every nerve lighting up and firing to its pair mate as they worked synchronously, giving her the wonderful sense of feel. Except, she wasn't feeling anything at her fingers. Yet.

When her digits met Anna's hand, still in a cupped formation, the younger started with a gasp. Her eyes danced like a tribesman around a new year's fire, but then subsided just as quickly. Her other hand ripped out of her hair, which somehow didn't cause her to scream; but it didn't matter to her at all in that moment. Wrapping her other hand around her older sister's—two around one—she nodded, finally signaling her acknowledgment to what Elsa had said just moments ago in the dark of the room.

There was a smidgeon, perhaps more of a smattering when you consider its obstruction by the tree-line, of moonlight filtering in through the window. The effect was something like a prism, where you could see each individual ray and where it went. Anna could tell, as she traced the outline of that wayward beam of silvery light, that one was shining into Elsa's eyes. Those beautiful deep blue orbs looked like they could hold all the water of the world's oceans ten times over, like the deepest and most placid pools in the whole universe. Looking just a little bit closer, she could see flecks of azure and brilliant white in those gorgeous irises, only adding to the unmatched beauty and utter poetry of that gaze she had known all her life.

She could only think, That's my sister.

Elsa took a small first step, and then another, sounding out the teeniest pitter-patter of bare feet of which she knew herself capable. Anna, her hands clasped around Elsa's one, had to just go with it, trying her best to mimic the silent grace of her elder. As she reached for the door handle, Elsa looked over her shoulder to see Anna gazing at Meg's sleeping form with cautious eyes. She noticed the profile of her younger sister's face—how cute her little button nose was against the well-defined apples of her cheeks; how her bangs (when patted down, at least) framed her face lazily, adding countless volumes to her charm.

She hadn't been looking at Meg before, but she soon joined Anna when they both noticed a ripple in the bedspread across the room. It started at the bottom, working its way up slowly and diagonally as her whole body turned to the left, laying on her side. She breathed out audibly, for once, and fiddled just slightly with the covers before resuming her repose. The sisters could've swore that, if their hearing hadn't betrayed them, that they could barely hear the opening and closing of her mouth. No words, of course, but it was certainly humorous in any case.

The two of them giggled, Elsa muting hers with her free hand, while Anna's was just a little more vocal. Elsa gave her a look of warning that said "Careful, now." Anna was still giggling behind her teal eyes, not that the light would have anything to say about it, but she was.

Elsa still had her hand poised in front of the handle of the door. She turned her head back around slowly, somewhat surprised that she didn't hear a joint crack after her long, sustained gaze over at the sleeping brunette who was buried within her purple stack of quilts. Turning her attention, now undivided, to the door, she felt the same sensation that she had before—nerves firing like an array of cannons as their signals flew a mile a minute. Her hand wasn't even 3 inches away from the knob before this focusing of her attention, it was just that now she had nowhere else to direct it. The distance was impossible not to notice, and now it was perfectly observable as she came within a hair's width of touching it.

Rustic; the only way she could describe it as her fingers made contact with the brass door handle. It was shaped out into a long and overly-elegant design, she noticed. There was a tiny amount of patina where her hand met the cold metal, adding a bit of green to the otherwise gold object in her grasp.

"Elsa?"

She looked back just enough to see that which she knew was there. It was an interesting expression. Most interesting.

Anna, with her neck craned out just barely, had those teal eyes asking a slew of questions without even trying. The faintest whispers could be felt like one would perceive the call of the wind, the sounds of which tickled her mind's ear just the slightest. Her own eyes went round at the sight and she could feel the movement of her body just slightly. It had been such an engrossing moment that she came back in a jolt when she felt that brush of metal against her hand. Oh.

Then—after staring at Anna for a good while—she nodded, finally understanding what Anna's inquiry had meant in the first place.

It's just a door, silly.

She turned back around carefully, remembering in that moment that her other hand was still clasped within both of Anna's. The hand on the door had remained completely still, but now it was time to face it for what it was: an obstacle. Breathing in slowly, she sent forth the force of her arm as she began a supine motion with her arm. If she thought she could feel a scratchiness on the door handle before, then this had to've been a big step up. When the handle finally gave way she could feel the many parts of the door rotating and creaking and making so much noise it seemed like the world was gonna cave in. It was nearly panic-inducing. But then there was a squeeze at her hand. "I'm right here, Elsa."

And with that she pushed the handle down the rest of the way, sounding itself with a shtick.

Loud, she thought, but at least that's out of the way. The next part terrified her for one big reason. What if it creaks?

It was at that point that she couldn't have expected, not even in the slightest, for Anna to pull her back with much the same force she had exerted to get Anna out of bed. "Anna!?" As she glared back at the redhead, she only noted a smile plastered onto her face. "What's so funny?" Anna did not change expression at all; only released one of her hands from Elsa's and pointed towards the door. When she looked, the message was clear. Her whisper-yell must've silenced the creaking of the door, or that's what she thought, anyway. None of it mattered at that point. She was just thankful that Anna was gutsy enough to get it over with, even if it meant that—

"Elsa? Anna?"

—it may have been a little loud.

When Meg looked over her bed to see what the fuss was, she only saw the door closed and no one standing in the room. They were in sleeping bags, right? She was too tired to worry about it. Part of her even doubted she was awake, actually. Back to sleep it is.

Behind the door Elsa and Anna giggled as silently as they could. "That was like something out of a movie," Anna said, moving from the wall slowly. Elsa couldn't believe that they had managed to shut the door so quickly and noiselessly, but it had sure enough happened. Elsa smiled and nodded. "It pretty much was." She giggled again.

The walk down the stairs wasn't nearly as troublesome, since Meg's parents slept way on down the hall and it's not like they had iron footsteps or anything. Coming down to the first floor, Elsa led her younger sister out into the backyard. So this is what she had in mind, Anna thought. But it was more vague than anything, truth be told.

After shutting the screen door to the outside, they sat down at the edge of the porch, Elsa looking up to the stars. She was glad that it was a clear night—part of the reason she had stayed up, in fact. But then she remembered the other one. "Can you see the Big Dipper, Anna?"

"Hm?" Anna hummed, looking at nothing other than her sister. She looks incredible under the starlight.

"The Big Dipper," Elsa said, meeting Anna's gaze, "can you see it?"

Anna then realized that she hadn't gone deaf, just distracted. "I-I heard you the first time," she said as she looked up to the stars. She heard a small laugh from beside her at the remark. "What?"

A laugh like the call of heaven. "What do you mean what?" Anna felt a poke at her cheek, causing her upward staring to cease. Elsa was staring at her with a most unusual smirk. "I saw you staring." She laughed again as her gaze went skyward again. Anna blushed even in the near-complete darkness. Her sister's candidness was.. well, it was weird. Anna had always figured that she was the more open, more personal one; but Elsa sure as hell could tell you the what-for herself.

She finally laughed a small, almost chirpy little thing as they both looked back up to the stars.

"There it is." Anna pointed to the aforementioned constellation with her forefinger. Elsa simply hummed in approval but then stood up. "What now?" Anna couldn't help but feel she wasn't going back to sleep anytime soon.

Elsa merely stood and held out her hand, directing those deep blue eyes to teal. The light summer chill was sort of delighting, even with the air dead still; silent. "Just come on," Elsa said half-annoyed, half-anticipatory. Anna just looked her over as if not knowing at all what to expect. When it looked almost like Anna was about to shake her head, "Come on!" She giggled with abandon as she took Anna's hand into her own, taking her up and off of the porch and into a brisk run to the other side of the yard. Anna could barely keep up; barely think as her everything was suddenly assaulted with the need to press onward. She wanted to tell Elsa how crazy she was for doing all this crap in the wee hours of the morning but could do no such thing as she and her sister headed across the yard. The grass felt like little feathers beneath their feet, spurring them on as they giggled together. Not too loud, they made sure, though Elsa was certainly putting less thought into restraining herself.

When at last they got to it—about a million laughs later—Anna had nearly slumped over right then and there for breath. "All this—" she did, however, stop to take a short breather, "—for the hammock?" She could barely breathe.

"What of it?" Elsa asked.

"Nothing," another breath, "it's just that I'm usually the one out here reading." She righted herself, amazed that Elsa wasn't winded in the least. Aren't I the more athletic one?

"You should take a better look around, you know." Elsa put a hand around her shoulder, leaning in close to Anna as she gestured out to the stars with her hands. It looked like the sort of thing a visionary would do if you asked for guidance. "Beyond the stars—far past the dreams of night and day, you'll see a blonde in her hammock, reading as the stars dance around her."

Anna giggled, swatting Elsa's hand away. "You're such a dork, you know that?"

"Well, I had to tell you that I've read here before somehow." She smiled. It looked almost cheshire under the light of the night.

"I know, I know," Anna said. She realized that Elsa still had her hand around her shoulder; and, as she was now turned to face her, just how close they actually were. Anna had a habit of making pictures of scenes, even if she rarely remembered them. She, therefore, focused on the freckles outlying her older sister's nose. While Elsa was a math genius, she could count with her eyes quite well.
Seventeen. She has seventeen freckles. As their faces were literally inches apart, she thought it odd that Elsa's number of freckles was the same as her age.

Her train of thought came to a screeching halt as the face in front of her bore the transformation of a curious gaze to a venomous sneer. "Staring again, I see," said the one just in front of her. And then her vision blurred as she felt a hand at her left side push her hard into the hammock.

"Ngh, Elsa!" And then she plopped right down next to her.

"Oh come on, you were asking for it and you know it."

Their heads were touching and their legs were hanging off the edge. Anna groaned in defeat. She always wins, anyway.

"Okay, so I was." She shifted about an inch away from Elsa.

"Nuh-uh." Elsa closed the distance once again. Anna just closed her eyes as she felt the blonde pressed to her side once again. Elsa, I swear it's like your half my age sometimes.

A hand came to mingle with hers. "Did you like what you saw?" Elsa giggled. Anna's mind could barely register exactly what she was asking.

B-beautiful. Heavenly, even.

But before she could say anything, Elsa cut her off. "Just kidding." She gave Anna a little bit of room as she scooted over. "Just my fill of picking on you." Anna didn't even need to look over to know that there was a playful tongue being stuck out in her direction.

Yeah, picking on me at 2 in the morning. That's Elsa, for ya.

"So.. what did you have in mind?" Anna breathed out slowly as she put her arms behind her head. Elsa looked over at her.

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna conk out on ya." Elsa laughed rather haughtily at that one. "I wouldn't let you." Anna knew it was true, just like so many other things about her.

"Hmm…" The elder hummed as she brought a hand up to her chin. Anna had to resist rather intensely the urge to not just shift over and stare openly at Elsa. She knew that she probably looked cute as a button in that thinking pose, especially in the hammock.

But she couldn't not think herself. She and Elsa had done a lot together, really a lot, but her memory was doing a pathetic job recalling most of whatever was stored away. Damn you, brain.

"Wanna hear how I got my first pet?"

"Gregory the goldfish?"

Elsa knew that Anna probably thought she knew about her first pet, but this confirmed her suspicion. "Nope." She put her hand back down to her side. "Tina."

"Gregory really wasn't your first pet?" She should've known that Anna would be surprised. Mom was well aware of why not to tell Anna, but I certainly will. No use hiding it.

"I'll tell you why mom never told you about her; my kitten, Tina." She gulped. You can do it.

She began with, "I was 5; you were 2, and we both used to play with her all the time. You were always more gentle with her, though."

"How'd we get her," Anna asked.

"Mom got her from a friend at her work—said she had too many."

"Okay."

Elsa took a moment to remember where she left off. "Oh yeah—you being more gentle with the cat than I was." Anna giggled, and then she continued, "I would sometimes slide her on the floor like she was a bowling ball and I'd have some little pins set up for her to knock over."

"Elsa!"

"Oh, believe me, that's not even the worst part." That part was certainly true. Having said that, I should really just get right to it; get this off my chest.

Anna was now looking straight at her, but she welcomed it. I know you're there for me, Anna. But just telling herself wouldn't cut it, not in the slightest. She grabbed one of her hands and took a breath.

"One day I was just outside and decided to play a game with Tina and.. and—"

She felt unconscious tremors wracking through her whole body. Starting from the crown of her head and spreading outward like a slow quake.

"—Just say it, Elsa, whatever it is." Elsa looked over to see that innocent assurance. Of course Anna would've felt her quivering spirit in that moment. She wouldn't dare look away. Not after coming this far.

"I threw her up and down like a rag-doll." Huh. That wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. The hand in her own gripped with a vengeance.

"Y-you what?"

Elsa squeezed back. She eeked out, "It actually is what it sounds like."

After a silence and a gasp, "Y-you mean that you killed her?"

The sigh she heard from Elsa would've been enough, but she nonetheless did clarify, wanting the rid the guilt as best she could. "—Yes." It came out choked, puny.

"So that's why mom never mentioned her." Anna knew well enough not to utter the name again. She also knew well enough that Elsa felt bad about it because she hadn't really known any better at the time, but harbored it so, regardless.

She thought that maybe, just maybe that may've been one of the reasons her mom had told her to be careful around Elsa from time to time. Anyone could tell that she was certainly no troublemaker—that wasn't even a consideration. She had been very to-herself, though. How she had kept something like this in for so long was beyond her. I would've crumbled after a month.

She observed a particular sort of strength in the blonde that she had never seen anywhere else. Will; determination; faith. She wasn't too keen on calling her powerful or anything similarly out of the sort.

How does she do it?

"Tell me why you like the stars so much. I mean we all like them and see them every night, but I know you're really into them." She tried to slink her hand back over to herself, but wasn't overly surprised when it was snatched back in an instant.

"I'll be holding onto this," said Elsa. Anna caught her smile. "Suit yourself." Elsa laughed, then stilled herself as she stared up into the expanse above; the object of her passion, and also that of Anna's question.

"Well, it all started when I noticed that they were always there. Like, every night you can look up and see them up there." She took a short pause, giving Anna's hand a squeeze. "When grandpa passed away, that's when I truly began to love them." She felt Anna's gaze boring into her, taking that as a call for elaboration. "He always told me to look for Venus, which I'm sure you know isn't a star—" she stifled a giggle, at least hoping that she was right, "—and I could swear that from that day forth it glowed even brighter."

She felt another hand on hers—two around one—just like earlier. With her other hand, she pointed skyward. "And that's where he'll always be, should anyone ask." She breathed deep. "The brightest point in the sky, basking in the glory of the moon."

Sniffling. Why sniffling?

"Y-you must've really loved him." More than you know, Anna. "But sadly I don't remember him."

"That's really too bad." She meant it, too. He had been more of a father figure to her than her dad could ever have been. "Grandpa Ogden did a lot for us when we were little—took us to and from school for a while, and took it upon himself to take us to stuff when things at home got rough." She didn't need to elaborate on that.

"That I do remember," said Anna, "the rough edges, that is." They both most certainly did.

The elder allowed the silence to drown out those memories.

"What I mean to say," she started, figuring she may veer back on the course of answering Anna's question, "is that the stars are both limitless and forever at the same time."

Anna shook her head. "Limitless I can understand, but nothing lasts forever." She squeezed Elsa's hand. "Right?"

"It's all just a matter of perspective." She squeezed back. "They're more "forever" than we are, aren't they?" She was sure that Anna wanted to snicker at her choice of words, but was nonetheless alright with an "Uh-huh."

"One thing that you might not know.. actually, how about I just ask: what is everything made of?"

Anna clearly thought she had this one in the bag. "I learned this one in school: atoms." Elsa was sure the younger girl was probably smiling to herself.

"You're both right and wrong," Elsa replied.

"How?"

"Like I said, it's all a matter of perspective." Elsa breathed out slowly, her eyes going out of focus. "I'll give you a hint; they're my passion." She gave Anna a smirk that practically screamed "Just try to tell me that doesn't make it obvious."

Anna snorted out a laugh. "Stars?"

"Yep."

"How so?"

"You ever notice how we're the only planet with life on it?"

"That we know of."

"Yes, but that's not the point." Anna silenced herself for fear of getting chewed out. That's a good Anna, she thought playfully. "No planet is going to get life at all without a star to give it light; the source of all energy for us. It's like a mother for everything in its reach."

"Oh," Anna said in a sort of far-off manner.

"And in the same way, stars are like a mother in that they gave to us our everything. These hands that can create are so like the stars above that gave birth to everything."

"So you really mean that—"

"Yes, Anna. It's like they, them up there are like us; just looking down from a twinkling heaven." Anna took one of her hands to her heart, looking straight up to the night sky. Elsa said, "You might could say that my passion for the stars is just my answering their calls—to see that it's not just some big waste of space."

Anna sighed heavily, bringing her other hand back to where the other was still wrapped around Elsa's. "T-that's," she turned over to face her sister, "really deep."

"It is what it is," Elsa replied. She looked over at her, blue eyes meeting teal.

And then it hit Anna. The single, unifying thing that explained everything about Elsa. Love. She noticed it in everything she did, none more endearing than how Elsa would refer to her so properly all the time; like she was of paramount importance. The idea that she had such a profound complement in the world warmed her heart.
But then there was something of her own. Forever. Something Elsa had said, no doubt.
Love and forever. But there was one piece missing from what should've been a perfect trinity. And the being right across from her in the hammock gave the last piece.
Love Elsa forever.

"I love you, Elsa."

Her older sister turned over as she had, putting her free hand against her cheek. She looked over her completely. Eyes going from all the down where her legs hung over the edge of the hammock up to that head of hair that one might call a fireball, freckled face and the most cute petite frame you'd ever seen. She rubbed her cheek softly.

"I love you too, Anna."

You'll never know how much.

Her heart cringed slightly, telling her that some things were never meant to be.

But as she snuggled close to Anna and closed her eyes against the stars, the night melted away all worry.

To be continued.