First, much love and thanks for my many faves, follows and reviews! I love that you love my fluffy story. Even if I went to San Francisco a while ago and wrote Chapter Eight, which ended up being non-fluffy, and might even have some plot in it? Until then, you can have Chapter Seven - Just The Way You Are (by Bruno Mars).


Chapter Seven – Just the Way You Are

Elsa woke up with a smile on her lips, and a song in her heart. She greeted the Saturday morning with all the exuberance she had once had as a child, before the accident, before the gloves and the mantra of restraint they represented. She looked out upon the dawning world and wished she could follow only the impulses of her heart this day, and join Anna in her shopping trip, and take a walk together to the waterfalls, and maybe have a picnic in the nearby grove, with the grass smelling sweet and the clouds drifting lazily above, shedding her worries and cares as she would shed her crown, just for one day.

Elsa walked to her wardrobe out of sheer habit, looked with distaste at the dresses within, and promptly shed her nightgown. Then she created an ice dress, shimmering with delightful cold, an array of her favourite blues and sea foam greens. Soon her hair was brushed, plaited in a thick and generous cable of platinum with threads of blue ribbon, and she was out the door.

The kitchen staff certainly did not expect to see her knocking on the doorframe to the enormous set of rooms that served the denizens of the castle. The woman who was forming the last loaves of bread in their pans was the closest to the Queen, and she gaped for just a moment before dipping into a rusty-looking curtsey. "Your Majesty," she said, loud enough for everyone working in the kitchen to be aware of the presence of royalty and to make their obeisance.

Elsa smiled, a shade deeper and more joyous than the polite smile often levied upon the people, and inclined her head to the bows and curtsies that swept through the room. At the farther end, Kai had been in a conversation with the head cook, and he looked up in surprise. "Please, I have no wish to greatly trouble you," Elsa said. She could see Kai abandon his conversation and make his way over to her.

"Your Majesty," he said. "You are up earlier than expected. I'm sorry, but breakfast is not quite ready yet."

"I can appreciate that, Kai. However, all I would like at this moment is carrots."

His look was nearly indecipherable, but the pause spoke of his confusion. "Carrots?" he repeated.

"Yes, carrots. Olaf would like some."

"You could have told me in our morning briefing," he said. "There was no need to come down here."

"There was no need, but there was a wish," Elsa replied, thinking of her conversation with the snowman. "Why send others to fulfill promises that I make?"

Apparently the queen's wish was ample enough, for a small sack of carrots was hastily fetched from the stores and brought to the queen. "Thank you," said Elsa. "I'll go find Olaf, and then I'll meet you as scheduled for our briefing, Kai."

Her steward shortly bowed, and she walked away from the room, her heels clicking brightly on the polished stone floor, aware that there was a remarkable resurgence of whispers and chatter when she left the room.

She began to despair of finding Olaf in time to keep her promise to meet Kai again, but after inquiring of a guard or two she found him in the gallery. He seemed likewise astonished that she personally had acquired the carrots for him, and he scampered off with the gift for Sven.

It was a very enjoyable way to start her day, and she laughed with Kai as he briefed her on various issues in progress, startled and pleased that he had limited her queenly interactions to only half of the day. Perhaps Sera Avundir had given him a directive as well, to make sure the Queen did not overexert herself in the first few days after the disaster.

Anna was ecstatic at the news when she joined Elsa for breakfast. Elsa was pleased to see Anna eating heartily and well, and her sister also reported that she had slept deeply and without dreams. "How about you, Elsa?" Anna inquired. "How did you sleep?"

Elsa should have realized this would come up, and the promise she gave Anna bolted her tongue to the truth, even though she instantly knew that she would face the same questions that Olaf had posed the night before. "I… had another nightmare last night."

"You did? Was it as bad as the night before?"

Elsa nodded, desperately trying to stuff the awful images into some box in the back of her brain. Anna was alive, not frozen, and eating breakfast, not a statue. Elsa had not become a monster who froze people into solid ice and enjoyed it.

"Why didn't you wake me?"

Here it goes.

"I admit I did come into your room, just to make sure that you were still safe, and still alive. But Sera Avundir ordered lots of rest for you, so I didn't wake you up." Elsa continued, speaking over the opening of Anna's mouth in indignation, "I went to the drawing room and found Olaf there, and we had a nice conversation."

"I know Sera said I need sleep, but what do you need, Elsa? And why do your needs always come second?"

"Right now I need only you," Elsa softly admitted. "And it was enough, barely, to just watch you sleep and convince myself that it was only a nightmare."

"I want you to promise me that you'll wake me up if you ever have nightmares like that," Anna demanded.

"Oh, Anna!"

"Promise! Or I won't sleep at all, I'll stay awake all night just sitting by your bed and watching you like a hawk. Or like a chicken with the face of a monkey." She replicated the Duke of Weselton's very strange facial expression the night of the ball.

Elsa couldn't help but smile. "All right, Anna," she agreed. "I promise."

"I'm glad that's settled. Now, about this afternoon. I would really like it if you came shopping with me. Do you… is that something you might like?"

They both looked at Elsa's eating utensils, which had become suddenly coated in frost.

Elsa pulled the frost back into her palms and carefully set them down on the table. She wiped her mouth with her napkin and said, "I've never been shopping before. I'm still scared of being around a lot of people, especially when I still don't have the best control of my powers. If… if it's okay with you, why don't you shop with Olaf, and then we can think of something else to do together. Maybe something more… private."

The minute she said the word private, she wished she could take it back. She instantly thought back to the intimate privacy of the drawing room the night before, recalling the softness and depth of the lips she ever so briefly kissed.

Her sister blushed, and Elsa wondered if she was thinking the same thing. "Sure, Elsa," she said, her voice creaking slightly. "Olaf loves shopping. But what do you want to do?"

"How about a walk to the waterfall? I've never been there."

"That sounds great," Anna replied, all the brightness back in her voice. "What time?"

"I should be finished with everything by about two o'clock."

"Perfect. That should give me enough time to finish up with Kristoff's things." The two sisters quickly finished their breakfast. When they rose from their chairs, Anna came quickly to her and gave her a hug.

Elsa felt she could never get enough of these hugs, and she held Anna close. "Mmm, breakfast hugs," Elsa whispered.

"An infinite supply, just for you," Anna whispered back, giving Elsa a final beloved squeeze before drawing away.

Then Anna kissed Elsa's cheek, quick and fierce. "I wish you didn't dream those awful dreams, Elsa," Anna said. "I can't even really imagine how it would feel to watch you die every night. Well, actually, I can. It would feel awful, and terrifying. Please, please don't think you have to shoulder the weight of it alone."

A vast boulder of love lodged itself in Elsa's throat, and she was amazed at the size of it, for she did not realize that there could be even greater heights of love to gain when it already seemed to saturate every part of her being. She dared not speak, so she nodded instead.

"Good," Anna stated. "As you said last night, I believe we understand one another."

They left the room side by side and immediately parted ways, and after Elsa took five steps she stopped and glanced back, only to see that Anna had also briefly stopped and was looking in her direction.

The unexpected collision of eyes revealed such secret need and desire that nearly breached all of Elsa's defenses; if Anna raised but one finger in a welcoming gesture Elsa would run to her, sweep her off her feet, and kiss her again and again in a torrent that could never cease.

Anna recovered first, and dipped in a curtsey to her older sister; it was a rite that brought Elsa back to her senses. Her heart hammering in her throat, Elsa curtsied back, and then turned to walk away, wondering if Anna still watched, wondering what Anna was thinking, wondering if this sudden rage of affection and longing could only be attributed to the many years of lack, or if truly signified something more.

The thought of something more was terrifying, so she shut it firmly away, and every step she took towards her study she became the Queen of Arendelle once more.

The hours of work passed by in satisfying quickness. She finished all her letters and correspondence, reviewed the trade dissolution and signed it, and had another quick briefing with Kai just before two o'clock in the afternoon. She had no idea if Olaf would still be with Anna, but she wanted him to feel welcome if he was there. She asked the kitchen to send up a basket of food to enjoy as a late lunch.

Elsa was just making her way down to the castle entrance with said basket in tow when she saw Anna come dashing through the front gate into the forecourt. Olaf was trotting merrily behind her. "Oh, Elsa, I mean, Queen Elsa," Anna puffed as she careened to a halt. Elsa put out an arm to steady her, grinning widely. "Just let me put my things away and I'll come right down. Please say that there is food in the basket. I'm starving."

"There is food in the basket, and plenty of it. Olaf, would you like to join us for a picnic?"

"Really? Come with you and Anna? Just the three of us?"

"Yes, if you'd like."

"I always loved the idea of a picnic. Elsa, you're making all my dreams come true, first with the dandelion fuzz and now a picnic…"

"What's this?" Anna asked, stopping just before dashing upstairs.

"Get on with you," Elsa teased, "I'll tell you the story when you get back. Hurry!"

She watched Anna dash up the stairs, two at a time. So far there was no indication that her heart had been altered at all. Looking only at the surfaces of things, one would think Anna was in perfect health.

Elsa saw so much deeper now, into the impetuous heart of courage that so exemplified her sister, though the surface was still very appealing; Anna was like the shimmering of dawn upon the waves of the sea in the fjord, belying the vast and strong currents of water deep and pure.

Indeed, the princess returned very quickly, and she was the picture of ebullience and amusement, telling Elsa stories about the shopping trip, adventures with Olaf (who considered smelling flowers an adventure), and Elsa could barely find a moment to inquire after the cut arm (healing very nicely, thank you for asking), and how she was feeling generally (never better, you'd think my heart was perfectly fine).

Elsa was mostly quiet, but her heart was soaring with the kind of peaceful goodness that embodies simple appreciation of nature and good company. The grass did indeed smell incredibly sweet, almost a growing smell, like if she breathed in hard enough it would start sprouting in her lungs. The sun was dappled in a million shades of green and yellow as it filtered through the trees. They saw other people along the same wide path that led to the waterfalls, some of them also taking their ease on blankets on the mowed swards of grass, others playing with small children under the trees. Elsa was a bit nervous at first at how many people were around, but she managed to just relax into every moment that arose.

She was aware of their excited whispers as she moved among them, and gave each of them a smile and a nod as she walked side by side with her sister and the flurry-covered snowman. She outright grinned as she saw a woman elbow her husband and exclaim, "It's the Queen. It's really her, Percy!"

Elsa was also immensely pleased to see that her people gave her the space she so desired, and no one intruded on her small party as they continued to make their way to the falls.

They were in no particular hurry, and Anna was moaning with hunger, so Elsa stopped by a great willow tree, gave her the basket and spread out a thin blanket that was tucked on top. They all dug into the food with vigour, and Olaf looked so curious about the aspect of eating that Elsa created a little repast of snow dishes just for him. He nibbled and dined on the same snowy items as the Queen and Princess, mimicking their own exclamations of appreciation for flavour and savour.

And time slowed just for them, with talk and food and then satisfied quiet. Elsa leaned her back against the tree and looked up into the canopy, continually amazed by the depth of colour and beauty surrounding her. She had never spent much time outdoors, and she felt she could stay outside forever.

She sensed eyes on her and glanced at Anna, who just happened to be staring at her with what appeared to be open-eyed adoration. "You know what, Anna?" Elsa said, patting the ground next to her as an invitation for her sister to sit down. Anna came closer but stopped just shy of her. Before Elsa could protest, Anna carefully sat down, and then lay down entirely, tucking her skirts carefully around her long and graceful legs, her head in Elsa's lap.

Elsa's breath tangled in her throat, and she touched Anna's luxurious hair with one hand that scarcely kept from trembling, then placed it on Anna's shoulder.

"Go on, Elsa," her sister murmured, snuggling with contentment and closing her eyes.

Elsa swallowed, and finally was able to say, "This is the best day of my life."

Anna momentarily opened her eyes, to gaze fulsomely and upside down on the queen and grace her with a generous, Anna-like smile. She put one hand on Elsa's knee and closed her eyes again, saying, "I agree, Elsa. It just gets better and better, doesn't it?"

Elsa didn't have to agree out loud. She merely had to caress Anna's neck, and Anna understood.

The magic of this time spent together under the spreading tree was indescribable. Elsa wasn't sure if Anna fell entirely asleep, but neither was she going to break the spell of exquisite silence and soul-comfort that had come upon them. Elsa felt whole and complete in a way never experienced before now, because she could see the families and couples around her rejoicing in the same sunshine, and she could sometimes hear them talk to each other of how wonderful it was to see the Queen and the Princess outside together, and she watched Olaf chase butterflies and small children and anything else worth chasing.

And it felt as if that last tight ball of worry began to melt in her heart, and she began to realize that she needn't be afraid of her people, no more than they should be afraid of her. It was a partnership in this kingdom, and they each had a role to play. If Elsa were to be serious in what she told her advisers, that it was critical to regain the loyalty and trust of Arendelle, then moments like this would do remarkable good. She loved to be seen as a person, out with her sister and her walking snowman-friend, enjoying the summer sun and heat and smell of green growing things.

And her idea for the morrow grew and grew until it was a vast soap bubble in her mind, shimmering with translucent colour and excitement and hope. Tomorrow they would be rid of Prince Hans and the Duke of Weselton, tomorrow Anna would give the new sled to Kristoff and Sven, and tomorrow the Queen would surprise her people with a skating party.

Tomorrow.

But tomorrow did not come without yet another night filled with terror.

It seemed that every hideous mare of the underworld felt free to prey on the young Queen during the midnight hours. Elsa struggled in yet another reality where Anna stayed dead, and the kingdom stayed frozen, and Elsa herself sank into the guise of a ruthless dictator, taxing her people and imprisoning dissenters, until all her kingdom rose in violence and bloodshed, her dream ending with the feeling of a rope around her neck, hanging from a gibbet in the square, seeing with her dying breath that the sun broke through the clouds and the mob cheered in celebration.

She did not wake quickly. She felt the rope around her neck even as she swam to consciousness through viscous heated pools of tar, suffocating and perishing with every breath. When Elsa finally realized that she was awake, she broke down into the most soft and wretched tears imaginable. She buried her face in her pillow and wept like a lost, forlorn and pitiable thing, just as she had when holding her frozen Anna in her arms.

It was unbearable. So many visions of a dead sister, of a future all dark and maleficent and empty of love, a future of violence and outrage, oh so much beauty lost in a blizzard of nightmare and fear.

Elsa could not seem to stop crying, never quite sure if her tears were for herself or for the sister she had so nearly lost. Neither could she immediately summon the resources necessary to crawl out of her bed and fulfill the promise she made.

So for a long time she sobbed, fearful and alone, until she could bear it no longer. Queen Elsa laboriously crawled out of bed, burning with sorrow and fever. She did not bother to fetch a robe for the short jaunt down the hallway. She made no sound in her bare feet down the polished floor even though she stumbled in her weariness, her vision clouded and unsure.

She finally came upon Anna's door, and it had been left partially open, and that slim space spoke of promises kept, of faith restored. That space between door and frame was welcome enough, and the unsteady Queen slipped through without knocking.

She could not hesitate now; her need was all-powerful and consuming. Anna seemed deeply asleep on the far side of the bed, facing the doorway, her face gentle and soft and partially shadowed. Elsa walked to the bedside, pulled down the covers, and slid in between the cool sheets. She put her head down on the empty pillow that had been waiting there, and only then did Anna's eyes flutter open.

No words were spoken. Anna looked at her, and then she smiled even as she reached out her hands, pulling her grieving sister closer. Elsa let herself be tucked all soft and gentle along the warm curves of Anna's body, her head pillowed on Anna's shoulder, her arm over Anna's waist.

And Anna pressed her lips to Elsa's forehead, in a kiss that was a caress, infinitely long and tender.

Heavy with sorrow and devotion, Elsa was cradled like a babe in Anna's arms, and between one breath and another she fell back asleep.

It was a combination of light and warmth that brought Elsa back to wakefulness. If she had other dreams, they escaped her as she opened her eyes.

Elsa could scarcely believe the loveliness of waking in Anna's arms. They had shifted slightly in the night, until Anna slept entirely on her back with an arm over Elsa's hips, and Elsa slept draped over her whole body, her leg between Anna's, her hand clutching Anna's waist. The intimacy of it brought a flush to her cheeks and she made to move away, but Anna would have none of it. The moment Elsa began to move she felt Anna's arm tighten on hers, and then her voice in her ear, "Oh no, you don't, Your Majesty. Not yet."

Elsa relaxed, but she couldn't quite summon the nerve to look into Anna's eyes. Given permission to enjoy the moment, she leaned into it with all the courage she could muster.

How strange was this aspect of courage, when it was the smallest and broadest of moments that truly tested the capacity of faith and conviction. Elsa reflected on her own courage, and knew that staying fully present and engaged in this precious moment with her sister was far harder than facing down the Duke's henchmen that day in her palace. It was so much easier to disengage, to run, and to react.

Ever mindful, wonderfully present, Elsa felt it when Anna's breath began to change. It was a slight alteration, a shade shallower than before, so Elsa finally drew back her head to look at Anna's face. Her eyes seemed almost stormy, and there was something vulnerable there as well that Elsa didn't quite understand.

"Thank you for keeping your promise, Elsa," Anna whispered, taking a tendril of Elsa's hair to tuck behind her ear.

Elsa nodded, for she didn't trust herself enough to speak.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Elsa shook her head.

"All right."

Elsa put her head back on Anna's shoulder, and felt Anna's arm grip her even tighter on her waist. Anna's other hand stroked Elsa's hair again before falling to grasp her elbow.

Never in her life had Elsa known such contentment. It didn't seem possible that each and every day could bring new heights of joy.

Yet Elsa felt a tiny shade of fear even in the midst of this communion, this bliss. It was a fear far different than the old and familiar terrors of her past, and it had begun to grow and swell in the last two days. It was so sharp and thin that Elsa could not summon the courage to name it; it hovered there, just beyond expression and reality.

"Talk to me, Anna," she begged lightly, speaking to the fabric of Anna's nightgown.

So Anna began to talk, to relate stories of her numerous scrapes and escapades, the ones involving suits of armour and blades practice, as well as her flubs in embroidery and cooking. She spoke of the friendships she made with the gallery paintings, and the many adventures she had shared with Joan of Arc.

Then she suddenly stopped talking, and her heartbeat was strange and fluttery, and Elsa drew back again in order to look at her, a far different fear clenching her lungs.

Her first glance erased all fear and replaced it with wonder.

The rising sun painted a halo about Anna's somewhat wild hair, so she appeared as an angel in truth as well as the angel of Elsa's salvation. Elsa found herself forgetting all about the strange heartbeat she had felt while she stared at Anna's lips, and her next battle was massive and silent, to keep herself from tasting those lips again, sampling their depth and sweetness.

And though she won that battle, and kept herself from kissing her sister with every fervent desire she possessed, she found herself naming her newest fear. It became so obvious it could be hidden no longer. It demanded recognition; it demanded to be realized in thought, if not yet in word aloud.

I've fallen in love with Anna.

My sister.

Oh, god, what do I do?

Anna was still gazing at her, and Elsa reminded herself that Anna's heart had hitched for a reason. She gladly latched on to the present moment, setting aside her startling revelation of wonder and fear, and asked, "What's wrong, pet?"

"I can barely understand it," Anna said slowly. "I mean, you've been back in my life for only a few days, but they've been such wonderful days that I find myself already forgetting what my life used to be like before you came back into it. How is it possible for the loneliness of thirteen years to be erased so easily?"

"Because it's necessary," Elsa replied. "If fear is our great enemy, then it will always be conquered by love. Why would we hold on to the pain of the past if the present moment is filled with such joy? I think it speaks beautifully of you as a person, Anna, that you can genuinely forgive and forget."

"I daydreamed of many things with you, Elsa, in those long years," Anna slowly admitted, her fingers tracing circles on Elsa's hip. "But the reality is so much better. It's so good, in fact, that every once in a while I wonder if I'm only dreaming all of this."

Elsa reached up and lightly tugged on Anna's hair. Anna lightly grimaced and then grinned. "Okay, okay, smartypants. Besides, if this was only a dream, I'd never want to wake up."

"Dreams are no good," Elsa said quietly, her thoughts turning momentarily back to the horrors of three nights running. "Reality is better. You are better."

"Why are you still having these nightmares, Elsa?" Anna asked quietly.

"I wish I knew," Elsa admitted. "I wish I wouldn't dream the awful things I do. I can only pray that it won't last much longer. Beyond that, there is little I can do."

"Do you suppose the trolls might be able to help you?"

Elsa couldn't help the shudder that rippled through her body, and she saw the surprise in Anna's eyes. "I'm sorry, Anna, but I would have a hard time trusting the trolls. I know they helped to save you, twice now, but at what cost? Tell me Anna, do you remember me using my power as a child?"

"No," Anna admitted. "I remember so many happy times together, outside building Olaf, and sledding in the snow. I remember that it very suddenly stopped."

"We built Olaf in the ballroom. We slid down the castle stairs. We skated in the halls. I built a million playgrounds of snow for you in nearly every room of the palace."

Anna's eyes grew wide. "You mean you used your magic in front of me?"

"On a nearly daily basis," Elsa said. "In fact, the night of the accident, you woke me up because the northern lights were particularly bright." She couldn't help but smile in memory. "I told you to go back to bed, but you said the sky's awake, so you were awake, so we had to play. You asked if I wanted to build a snowman. I couldn't refuse you, I never could. So we went to the ballroom, and we played one last time."

Anna's face was expectant, pleading. Elsa understood the unspoken request and continued relating the story. How they had scampered through drifts of snow, how they built Olaf together, and then skated with him on the icy floor. Her voice got slower when she drew nearer the moment everything changed.

"You began leaping from snow drift to drift, asking me to catch you, so I made pile after pile, but you were jumping so fast and high that I couldn't keep up, and then I – I slipped on the ice, and you leaped from the last huge drift and headed straight for the floor. I panicked, and the blast that was supposed to create a safe landing hit your head instead, and you fell unconscious to the ground."

Elsa couldn't stop now, not when the truth was finally coming out in its entirety, and it was like removing the last festering splinter that had been so deeply lodged in Elsa's heart. She relived the experience aloud, clutching her fallen sister, watching the streak of white appear in her hair, crying aloud for their parents. Somehow papa knew where to go. She had ridden with father, Anna with mother, and her fear and anxiety left a trail of ice behind their galloping horses.

Then they had arrived at the Valley of Living Rock, to receive the counsel of their eldest troll; he said that he could indeed remove the ice, and recommended to remove all memory of magic, to be safe. He spoke of fear being Elsa's greatest enemy, and warned her to learn to control her powers. The King agreed that they would keep it a secret from everyone from now on; they would close the gates, reduce the staff, and limit Elsa's contact with everyone. Including Anna.

The torrent of words finally ceased, and Elsa focused on Anna's face. She could not be surprised at the anger and anxiety mired therein. Elsa had had many years to despise her parents, years to grow into the role of protector and secret-keeper, becoming the good girl she always had to be. Anna now had to integrate this knowledge, and find its rightful place in her heart and memory. Elsa did not envy her the task.

Her next words still stunned the young Queen.

"So it really was all my fault," Anna murmured.

"No, Anna," Elsa said firmly, grasping Anna's elbow. "It was not. We were playing. We were having the time of our lives. I knew you then, just as I know you now. Your impulsive and fun-loving nature is what I so dearly love in you. Yes, you can be hasty at times, but I wouldn't change it, not even if it could erase that pivotal moment in our lives."

Anna didn't look quite convinced, so Elsa leaned over and held her face and kissed her on the cheek. When she withdrew she looked deep into Anna's distressed eyes and said, "We've passed through the storm, Anna. We're here, we're together again, and I truly believe we are stronger for what we've experienced. I love you with my whole heart, and I love you just the way you are."

Anna swallowed, and finally she nodded, her eyes red-rimmed. "Now, my princess," Elsa said brightly. "Today is going to be a great day. I believe you are giving Kristoff his sled today, right?"

Anna nodded, wiping brusquely at her eyes.

"Good. I've found a silver medallion for you to give to Sven, in his capacity as Chief Reindeer to the Official Arendelle Ice Master and Deliverer. Also, we are getting rid of both Prince Hans and the Duke of Weselton this morning, so that will be fantastic.

"And," Elsa continued, talking over her sister's opened mouth of delight, "I have a special surprise for you this afternoon. Well, for you and for the village. Make sure you're back in the forecourt around lunch!"

"A surprise for everyone?" Anna squealed. "What is it?"

"Silly bear, if I told you, then it wouldn't be a surprise!"

"Silly bear?"

"Would you prefer stinker?"

"I prefer pet." Anna blushed after she blurted out the words.

"Pet it is." Elsa leaned over to give Anna one last quick peck on the cheek, and then she squeezed Anna's hand. "Thank you for everything this morning, pet. I needed it."

"I needed it, too."

It was indescribably hard to leave the comfort of Anna's arms, even as she chastised herself for enjoying these stolen moments so very much. Could it be possible that her subconscious forced the dreams upon her because she wanted Anna's comfort so much?

It was an impossible riddle, but as Elsa returned to her chambers she reflected on the awful truth that had blazed into existence. She forced it into the front of the mind, there to confront it with all the bravery she could muster.

She had fallen completely, utterly, head-over-heels in love with Anna. The image of her sister filled every thought, every daydream. Thinking of the intimacy of their sleeping caused a most excruciating yet wondrous hunger to overtake her, profound in its depth, startling in intensity.

It was also terrifying in the extreme. She could feel the uncertainty and fear igniting the magic in her palms, and once again she wanted her gloves.

Was it only due to thirteen years of tightness and restraint that she resurrected her old mantra so easily?

Get it together, Elsa. Control it. Don't feel.

Don't feel.


See you Tuesday for the next instalment. I'll probably go to once a week postings after that, but I really want to share Chapter Eight.