A/N: First, she drops out of the world for like, 5000 years. Then she has the galls to give up a short chapter because the next chapter is so bloody long so she has to cut it up!? HOW DARE SHE! Anyway, I'm suuuper sorry guys. Life's crazy and stuff. Hopefully this doesn't happen again. But exams is coming up, so no concrete promises. But next chap is almost done. Yay!
7.
Elsa is the epitome of perfection. Smart, powerful, regal, beautiful. Unfortunately, sometimes she can also be the epitome of an eight carriage pile-up with her non-existent sense of self-preservation, drowning in bathtubs, and so very unfortunately, her complete lack of navigational skills.
Or maybe it's the dragon that's at fault, because flying with eyeballs made of ice doesn't seem like an easy feat to do, but regardless of whatever the reason is, Anna finds herself assaulted with the imagery of throwing up at Elsa's back after the fifth time they've flown over the same small mountain with the same bald patch of clearing with the same stream running through. By the sixth time, her stomach's gone from doing a series of cartwheels to threatening to erupt by emulating a violent earthquake. Several violent earthquakes.
Her stomach's had enough. Every time the dragon changes courses or alters its elevation, she feels like she's been dropped down a cliff, face first. Unless she wants to really end up doing something utterly unprincessy towards Elsa, they need to stop. And she tries to get Elsa to do exactly that. The dragon's wings and the shrill howl of wind are too loud for words, so she resorts to hitting Elsa's shoulder with her open palm in succession. Gently, of course. Jostling your driver in a carriage way up in the sky is never a bright idea. So is assigning Elsa as the driver.
Elsa shoots her a look over her shoulder, mouth moving to utter what Anna guesses as "what?". Even if Anna can't hear it, she can definitely see the italics. A hand clasped over her mouth, she points her index finger downward, jabbing the air repeatedly with an up and down motion. Once again Elsa's mouth moves, and this time Anna can definitely see the bolded italics. But despite that, Elsa's mild irritation quickly morphs into a concerned frown.
Anna pantomimes the vague motion of throwing up, just in case. She also mouths the sentence "clearing. Down. Slowly. I think. I'm dying", also just in case Elsa has the hidden ability of lip reading to go with her magic.
Now the concern has turned into alarm and Elsa whips her head, staring straight ahead. Slowly, gently, Anna feels their course altering to the left in a wide arc, slowly angling downwards. The dragon's beating wings too, are getting slower and slower. Casually and almost lazily. She closes her eyes. If it weren't for the fact that she's flying high on a dragon, she can almost imagine herself on a canoe, feeling the bumps and undulations of the ocean wave. But sadly, she is on a dragon, and there's nothing nice about that. It's embarrassing enough that she's been pressing her chest flush against Elsa's back the entire ride, arms tight around the curve of Elsa's waist (embarrassing, but oddly, slightly pleasant. If she weren't riding a freaking DRAGON), but even worse is the fact that Anna's arms has tightened into a death vice, and she wonders if Elsa will find bruises on her stomach the next day. She clenches her eyelids harder, willing the tsunami in her stomach to roll away.
Only after she feels and hears the thud of the dragon's landing does she allow herself to open her eyes – squinting in a narrow line at first to see if they're indeed very grounded. Very down to earth. Very not flying.
She's still holding Elsa tight.
"Are you all right?" Elsa asks over her shoulder, frowning slightly.
"Yeah yeah sorry. I'm—" Anna waves her hand in attempt to appear flippant, but really, she feels anything but. Someone or another said that flying will be humanity's greatest achievement, and well, what a load of lies. Flying simply isn't meant for mortals. With a groan, she buries her face into the cleft between Elsa's shoulder blades – personal space be damned – in an attempt to steady herself. At once she hears Elsa does a sharp inhale, her body going rigid. Before she can register the oddness of that reaction, Elsa grabs her wrists and forces them apart, then swings her leg, angling her body to the side and jumps off.
Landing on the balls of her feet, crouched, Elsa then straightens and flicks her wrist, creating a short, very fancy, very pretty stairwell that extends from the saddle to the ground. "Hold on to me," she says, taking two steps up, hand extended.
And Anna does, latching on to her makeshift Prince Charming as she descends down the stairs. Once both the soles of her boots have touched the solid, unshakeable presence of the earth, she lets out a long sigh of relief, untangles her hand from Elsa's and immediately plops down, back flush against the grass, hands folded on her stomach.
She's about to do a mental soliloquy on how beautiful the sky is when you're not trip traipsing in it when Elsa decides to obscure the view, bending over Anna's field of vision with her wind-swept hair tumbling over her shoulders.
Anna compares the blue of Elsa's eyes against the sky and finds hers much nicer. "Elsa: the destroyer of dreams. The shatterer of expectations."
Elsa looks nonplussed, as if Anna's the first person who has ever accused her of ruining dreams and murdering expectations. "Why is that? And shatterer is not a word."
Pedantic, as always. "Because I used to dream I could fly. Now? Not so much. It was my first time – you could've been gentler, y'know."
"You don't strike me as a woman who likes it gentle."
"Well, if you get to know me more…"
"I see." Elsa disappears from view and Anna cranes her neck left, seeing her smoothening the grass and taking a seat nearby. Then she says, "I'd like to."
Anna blinks. "Like to what?"
"Get to know you better."
"You can. I'm an open book. Ask me anything and I shall answer. I'm a very down to earth person. Very grounded. Literally, as you can see." She waits for Elsa to laugh at that awesome joke, but when nothing comes, she does the best shrug she can do in her current position. No one's ever said that Elsa has a healthy sense of humour. "I'm sorry about this. I should've told you I have a crippling fear of heights. I was this—" she lifts a hand and holds her thumb and index apart "—close to throwing up on you. Lucky I didn't."
"I appreciate the warning. Like you and flying, that would be a first time for me, too."
Anna chuckles at Elsa's deadpan, lifting herself up by the elbows and stretches, then sidles on her butt and rotates herself to face Elsa. "Anyway—"
But Elsa cuts her short. "You should have told me so. We would have ridden horses instead and used the dragon only when we're close enough."
Anna thinks about that for a moment. She supposes she should have – but that's. Well, she couldn't. She's the kind of person who will rather crash and burn trying than have not tried at all. Cecile calls it pride, but she thinks it's only tenacity. And being tenacious is never a bad quality to have. She can't tell Elsa this, though, because despite everything, they're not quite close enough, and she knows from previous events and Elsa holds the same opinion as Cecile does. So she scrambles for another excuse and comes up with, "because um. I didn't know how bad it was?"
And no one ever says that she's an accomplished liar. So much like her father.
Eyes narrowed, Elsa gives her a long, blank look and says, "I see."
"Yep. You totally do."
The dragon snorts.
They ignore it.
"You're a terrible liar, Anna."
"Tell me something I don't know already."
"This, then: you are trying too hard because due to overcompensation for your gender and your position as the heir of the throne."
Now it's Anna's turn to draw a blank look, watching Elsa watching her, both equally as still. She wishes the dragon will stop snorting though. Either it's laughing at her or suffering from an asthma attack. "Um… big words, Els."
"And you prefer to obfuscate your intelligence when you deem the conversation too difficult or otherwise unfavourable."
"Well, that I know…"
"Like a puppy, you're boundless in optimism and cheer, but your pride and stubborn nature is reminiscent of a rampaging bull bent on tackling everything in its path head first."
"Wow. Escalating to personal attacks already? And I do not resemble a puppy. I don't mind the rampaging bull part, though. I think that's awesome."
"You are a puppy," Elsa says, oddly adamant.
"I am definitely not a puppy," Anna retorts, rightfully adamant. "And hey look – as much as I appreciate you analysing my character traits, you're hardly one to talk, Ms. I Walk and Talk Like a Brick Wall Personified. Is it about my decision? I thought we've agreed to disagree and follow me regardless."
"Yes; we did." Elsa nods, but she's starting to play with her collar again. It tells everything that she doesn't, and Anna realises that she's still unhappy about this whole thing. Trust, she wants to tell Elsa. Trust me as I trust you. But there's no way to say that without sounding like a sappy character from a romance novel or like a petulant child, so she drops it.
"So aaaanyway, I'm good now." No she's not. Her legs still feel like jelly and she has a suspicion falling will be a theme for her nightmares for a long time, but it's not like she can sit here forever and admire the flowers and Elsa's hair and Elsa's eyes and Elsa's elegance. Pretty things are pleasing to stare at while doing nothing, but sadly, she has something to do. She's a woman on a mission. "Should we go? I promise I won't fall or throw up or anything."
But despite that, she makes no attempt to move, and Elsa must've caught on, eyes flitting down towards Anna's legs for a brief moment before she shakes her head.
"Not a bright idea," she says. "You might not do any of those, but you might faint and tumble down onto the earth. I'd rather not risk that happen." Anna whole heatedly agrees, even if her pride's taking a dent from it. "What do you say to resting briefly before adhering to my suggestion of riding until we are close by?"
"Sounds like an excellent plan!" Anna says, then internally winces at the desperate enthusiasm of her voice. Clapping to emphasise her words probably doesn't really help either.
And by briefly, apparently Elsa means something between brief and long bordering on procrastination, because the next thing Anna knows is they're huddled over a fire (lit by the dragon that oddly breathes fire despite being made from ice), her bundled up in her cloak and Elsa looking easy breezy with just her sheer blouse. Not only is Elsa taller than her, but she's also more resilient to cold. The world can be unfair, sometimes. Like today. It's spring in name only.
Anna hates the cold.
"Cold?" Elsa asks, but Anna merely waves her hand dismissively.
"Naaah. Just a bit chilly, that's all. Should've packed another layer I suppose. And lunch. But no use crying over spilled milk—hey can you live by eating ice cubes alone?"
It takes a while for Elsa to answer, and even then, she seems to be stumbling over her words, mouth parting slightly then closed again. And Anna? Anna's busy pretending she's never said anything at all. There's no question too stupid to ask, her father once said, but she feels like she might have attempted the impossible and succeeded.
"Um. That was… that was a very stupid question," she says, wishing there's a conveniently placed hole somewhere she can jump and maybe die in. "Can we both pretend I never said that? Please?"
Just one word, Els. Just say yes and we can get this over with and move on to the important bits of the day like getting skewered by a narcissistic warlord and maybe celebrate with a few kegs of ale and pretend that question never happened, ever.
But alas, fate isn't so forgiving, because instead of saying yes, a few moments of dead silence in which Anna is admiring a particularly interesting patch of grass and Elsa simply looks like she's concentrating very, very hard. A few more moments of very pregnant silence reigned before it finally goes to labour and Elsa bursts out laughing.
Bursts. Out. Laughing.
Shaking shoulders, hand clasped over mouth and all that.
Anna's jaw almost drops the ground as she stares at the rarer than rare spectacle unfolding in front of her. Elsa. Laughing. Even clutching her stomach. Oh god. There's something terribly wrong about the scene, like hearing a brick wall laugh.
It's just… jarring.
"Uh…" Anna starts, wondering if she should… well. Something. "I'm—are you okay?"
It takes a while for Elsa to smother her laughter enough to answer. "Yes. I apologise; I didn't mean that as a jab to your question…" Another chuckle escapes and dies, and she's finally back to being a brick wall personified. A very mirthful brick wall, but not quite as bad as before, thank god. "No; I do apologise. It reminds me of a question my sister used to ask because I was conspicuously absent from family dinners for the longest of times. And to answer your question: no, I cannot live on ice cubes alone. Although it would be terribly convenient if I could. Perhaps I could try?"
"Please don't?" is all Anna can think of saying. She's still a little bit shocked at the sudden display of something very un-Elsa, and she realises it's just another layer of Elsa she's been given the glimpse of. She wonders what kind of woman Elsa is before this, if the laughter is just a small tell-tale of the woman before the shackles.
And it is a very brief glimpse, because the traces of mirth has disappeared, replaced by that blank, carefully arranged look that Anna's seen so often. Elsa keeps her gaze trained at Anna, appearing as if she's thinking, slowly deliberating. As if the laughter isn't something Anna is meant to see. A momentary lapse.
"Els—"
"We should go," Elsa says. The fire's doused by a small flurry of snow and she rises from the ground. Pauses. Gives Anna the most convincing half-hearted smile she's seen. "Only if you are able to, of course."
She thinks she understands why. Because despite Elsa's words of wanting to know her better, Elsa's not giving her the chance to reciprocate. Or well, Elsa's trying not to, but Anna is adamant and persistent, and one day she will, just like how one day Elsa will come to trust her.
"Gee finally, Els. I thought we were gonna camp here forever. Nearly died from boredom you know – a bit longer and I would've have to start accusing you of procrastinating," says Anna, keeping her voice light.
Elsa's smile is now lopsided: a show of amusement. Equally as half-hearted and distracted. "I never procrastinate, Anna."
"Uh-huh. Sure. This coming from a woman who likes to sleep in baths and nearly drown. Why do I find it hard to believe?"
"Then you simply need to know me better."
Liar. But Anna has the time and persistence, and one day it won't be such a lie anymore. At least now she knows Elsa had a sister once. Another piece of information learned. Collected like pennies in a jar.
If you'd only give me the chance, Els, Anna wants to say, but she doesn't. "We won't reach their place if we go with the riding-route, y'know. We'd probably have to camp the night. Also, I'll be the one guiding us, thank you very much. You're hopeless as a navigator."
"No one ever said navigation is one of my expertise. You think too highly of me."
"Oh no worries. I no longer do. Thanks for disappointing me, Els."
"You are utmost welcome." Elsa executes a deep, mocking bow and Anna laughs. "Well then. I suppose we should go now."
"Yep." Then something strikes her and she pauses. "...heeeey, you reckon I can get a Pegasus instead?"
"They fly."
"Never mind then. A unicorn? Those don't fly, right?"
"As you wish," Elsa says, and just like that the dragon dissolves into a pile of snow, replaced by a horse and a unicorn standing in the midst of the snow. Show off as always.
And always so majestic, her creatures. And her. Anna can't help but to always draw a parallel between Elsa and her creatures. Murderous and beautiful. But then she remembers the reptilian humanoids from the night in the mountains and tries to shake the bitter taste away.
She's past that. They're past that. It's good.
"We're good."
"I didn't catch that."
"Nothing nothing." Flashing a small smile, Anna ignores Elsa's quirked brow and trots off towards the mounts. They're good.
It's as if the mere act of repeating it over and over again will make it true – but that's what they say. It's not self-delusion. It's trust.
They'll simply talk and Elsa will stay her hand and everything will be all right.
-X-X-X-X-X-
They ride in silence. Not unusual, because despite the general consensus, Anna isn't tireless in her barrage of chit chat. It's not that she's tired of speaking or of Elsa's presence – it's simply performance jitters. The tell-tale queasy feeling, the rapid heartbeat, the looming feeling of intangible terror. The sweaty palms. She tightens her grip on the icy reins of her steed (wishing fervently that she hasn't asked for a unicorn, because as majestic and mythical as they are, having a horn protruding from your head is just recipe for getting hit by random branches) and focuses instead on the landmarks around them.
She knows these mountains by heart, but they're approaching a territory unfamiliar to her, and she fears any lapse of attention will send them lost. She wishes they will get lost.
"You don't seem well," Elsa says, voice clear even in the midst of their horses' soft gallops and the humdrum of insects.
A low branch obscures her way and Anna ducks, then straightens again, swaying slightly as she rides over a particularly uneven terrain. She sees Elsa do the same from the corner of her right eye and feels relief that even someone like her is affected by something as mundane as a hole in the ground.
"Just a bit sore from all the riding, that's all," Anna says after she's stabilised herself. She sees the shadow of Elsa glancing at her, then stares straight ahead again. Elsa knows. Of course she does. Anna wishes they're not riding abreast, because at least it'll be easier to hide any facial tics when her face is obscured from Elsa's line of sight.
"It isn't too late to turn back," Elsa says.
"No." She hears a small sigh from Elsa and ignores it. "I'm sure it'll go swimmingly anyway. No need to worry yourself bald, Els. You'll be there anyway so it'll be fine, right?" And with that, Anna leans right and gives Elsa's horse a reassuring pat on the head. Because Elsa is still fire, and touching her is still a thought so odd there is no way she can entertain it.
"Anna…" Another sigh. "My being there does not mean anything when I cannot interfere without your say. Will you at least consider that part of the clause?"
"Clause what clause. There's no written contract in our…" What's the word? "Relationship. No one's stopping you from simply disobeying. You know I won't hurt you."
"I would rather not chance it."
"Me hurting you?" Is that how fickle she sounds to Elsa? That Elsa thinks she'll break her words just from a spur of emotion? But then she remembers the rage she feels then. The one thought that ran in her mind over and over against like a siren and understands.
They both have something to prove tonight.
"You tell me conflicting words."
Anna blinks. "Huh?" Did she? "What do you mean?"
"First you tell me to—no. Disregard it. This can be a talk for another day."
Another day, another time. It's Elsa's default reply for anything even remotely personal, and from what Anna's gathered, anything means pretty much everything. But she's learnt to let it go. Elsa's right. All in time.
So she gives a shrug and says, "okay then." And besides, she is sore. Particularly her backside. An ice saddle is nice and pretty and all, but it still has a long way to go in terms of comfort. Wonder if she can
"Huh?"
And huh indeed. Because the next thing she knows her horse/unicorn/very uncomfortable ride is banking sharply left, away from the trail and deeper into the forest. This must be Elsa's doing, because she can hear the second set of hooves right behind her. Frowning, she cranes twists her body around.
"Dismount," Elsa says. A command.
Though still confused, Anna obliges. She swings sideways and hops down, just in time to have the unicorn revert back to snow in front of her. She glances down at the specks of snow dusting the front of her clothes and then up again.
"Too visible," Elsa says by way of explanation. As if everything is so clearly obvious to Anna already.
"Okay…"
"Too low."
"Okaaay…"
Elsa's started to pace now. Arms crossed, she treads the same small circle over and over again, barely sparing Anna as much as a fraction of a glance. It's a tight enough clearing with way too many trees surrounding them, and with Elsa pacing like that, Anna can't help but feel more claustrophobic than warranted.
Now she's worried.
"Elsa." Nothing. Still doing the circles. Round and round. That's a new nervous tic she hasn't known Elsa has, and an overt showing of anything resembling emotion from Elsa is never a good thing. Anna's had enough. She steps into Elsa's immediate path and holds her hands out, a signal to stop. "Elsa!" And just like that, Elsa stops a mere pace away from Anna's hands. Whew. At least Elsa's still responsive. Thank god. "Tell me what's wrong," Anna says. "You're worrying me. Why did we stop? Is there anything you're not telling me?"
"Please retract your hands."
Anna looks down. Notices which part of Elsa they're directly in front of. Then sheepishly brings her arms down to her sides. "Sorry. Forgot about that. So what's up anyway?"
"I apologise. I was thinking—"
"About?"
"Our next course of action. I sent one of my creations further ahead. As a scout."
"Uh-huh. And?"
"And it doesn't bode well for us," Elsa says. She runs a hand through her hair, gaze unfocused, looking at nowhere – as if only a part of her is here with Anna. The rest is out there, seeing what her familiar is seeing, Anna supposes. She's read the stories. "I cannot count how many – but even as we're speaking right now they're heading towards us. Straight to Corona."
"They? I don't—" Then it clicks and the queasiness Anna feels multiplies tenfold. "Oh god. No. No. This can't—it's way too fast. Even if we were to warn papa now, there's no way he'd have the time to…"
She trails off, feeling Elsa's touch on her wrist. Only then has she realised she's reverted to her old habit of biting her nail. She doesn't fight it when Elsa guides her wrist down, away from her face. Then the warmth is gone but she's too distraught to linger on the thought.
And Elsa says, "it won't be a problem if you allow me to solve it, Anna. But you won't – so here is my question: what do you want to do?"
So that's it. Elsa's handing Anna the reins to the situation, no questions asked. Anna feels like she's being charged of mounting a rampaging bull mid-gallop, but she knows that's only her fault. And she knows too that there's no other choice but to take those reins and run with it.
It's her pride. It's the safety of her people. It's her resolve being tested.
"I…"
"You only need ask," Elsa says. A reminder. Command and I shall obey.
She supposes she can feign bravery. Wave her sword around, swoop down on the dragon she hates so much and bar their path, demand to talk. Only the plan's changed and she's not so sure of herself anymore. She can do a lot of things, but none of them are favourable – it'll end up with either her or Elsa dead, and at least she's not bullheaded enough to dismiss that probability.
And everything just cements how useless she is. Even now, when she can feel the slight tremor of her hands, can see the steadiness of Elsa's bearing. There's just one thing to do, and she hates, hates hates that the solution is just so easy, so right in front of her. Once again she looks at her hands, palms upturned. Sees the lines and rough callouses unbefitting for a Princess. All this and for what? If only she is as strong as the warriors and Kings in her childhood bedtime stories – if only her kingdom is anything but small and poor.
Because what use is victory when it's not you but a woman who has just happened to fall onto your lap like an utterly convenient lucky star?
She feels like a child who can scarcely walk. A child who is left alone with a sword taller than herself.
It's so very real and so very depressing. Still looking down at her hands she says, "I suppose you think I'm an idiot for still trying to find a way out when the solution is right in front of me, huh?"
"No," Elsa says, and Anna nearly recoils from surprise when she finds Elsa's hands on hers. Thumbs lightly places on her palms, fingers encircling the back of her hands. Then Elsa's hands shift, almost into an action that resembles an act of intertwining their fingers together before she stops. Still, her touch remains firm and without fear – different than Elsa's previous touches. Anna looks up, finds Elsa's gaze piercing and indecipherable. "But there's no shame in relying upon others, Anna. It was a lesson that took me far too long to learn, and I would not wish you to impart upon yourself the same mistakes."
"Is this a life advice from the elderly?"
"Yes."
"What mistakes?"
"Now is not the time."
It never is.
"I see," says Anna. She's struggling not to let her thoughts run off into a gallop. Off-track, wild. But there are too many implications. Questions. Shadows of answers. There's so many she wants to say, but Elsa's right. Now is not the time.
Time.
She needs—
"—time," she says again. Her voice is low and quiet. "Can you buy me—us time? Not long, just enough for…" For what? To warn Lord Gervais and her father. But she has the inkling that the former already knows; that she's just a pawn on his board. What about her mother? Elsa?
Elsa's lips are pursed into a thin line. Anna wants to avert her gaze, look at the safety of their hands together. She's afraid that Elsa's looking at her in disapproval. She's afraid that her façade of bravado is crumbling piece by piece.
Elsa's grip tightens. Urgent. "You can think all you want later, Anna. There will be time for that, I promise. But now is not the time. There is little I can do once they reach us – and even less when they reach open grounds. The time to make a decision is now, and I need you to tell me what to do."
Circles.
Anna needs to break out of the circle they're walking over and over. Worn, treaded upon one too many times.
So she steels herself and asks: "how long can you delay them?"
"Several days. Four. Five. But I will be useless after, and what comes after will rest solely upon you."
Almost immediately, Anna catches the allusion. "You're saying it'll be easier to just eliminate them now. Once and for all."
"Yes." That word: concise, chilling, offhanded. It comes with a nod. Elsa's bangs flutter in the breeze. "But I won't. So make your decision now—"
"—or forever hold my peace?" That sentence: truth behind a jest. Anna draws a long sigh, lets it out. "Okay," she says. "Do what you have to – I'm giving you explicit permission. But—" and she breaks free from Elsa's grip and jabs her finger at the air, pointed at Elsa. "No casualties… or at least, keep it to the bare minimum. Remember that we still need them, Els. Otherwise this entire thing would be in vain."
All that slaughter will be in vain.
"If they perish, it will only be their weakness that is at fault. It will not be on my hands this time. Remember – I am only following your orders."
Princess. Anna can imagine that unspoken word. High and lilting: mocking. Just like Jan's. It's just her imagination, she tells herself. Just her and her bullish pride. Because there's no indication that Elsa is the type to mock – certainly nothing in her facial expression that betrays that sentiment. It's just Anna being
(too sensitive. If she were born a man… my lord, do you not desire a son? A true heir?)
stubborn. She takes another breath. Deep. Closes her eyes. Tries to ignore that voice. But contrary to popular belief, things just don't go away when you ignore them - it just gets worse. She remembers the looks, the whispers, the cutting words hidden behind jests about the barrenness of her mother's womb, about her father's manhood.
"I… understand. This might not be the correct decision to make—" then again, when has it even been correct? It seems like her life is just brick upon brick of mistakes "—still, I'm taking full responsibility." She steps back and sweeps her hand in an arc. "Go do your thing, Els. Do your thing and we'll head back to the castle and reconvene."
"As you wish," Elsa says.
Princess.