A/N: Every single word in this chapter fought me. Every. Single. Word. I dearly hope that it's not as obvious in the writing as I worry it is.
Fair warning: we have officially entered the "dark" part of the story. Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate.
(Now if you'll excuse me, I think I'd better hide.)
Dark as Snow
Chapter Ten
Anna woke slowly, a pleasant, easy warmth all along her limbs, seeming to burn brightly from within her chest, and she wondered at it even as she yawned and snuggled more deeply into the warm blanket draped over her.
She hadn't dreamed the night before, Anna realized, turning in against the scratchy pillow beneath her cheek with a contented sigh. She'd merely slept, full and deep and warm, with a comfort and contentment she hadn't felt since… since…
Anna started slightly at the feel of a strong arm tightening a fraction around her waist, of a snuffling sigh beside her brow. She lay perfectly still, eyes wide as she took in the feel of a very large and very warm body curled close to her, all bare skin and firm, sloping muscles, and her cheeks burned as the memories of the previous night came rushing back.
Kristoff's fingers intertwined with hers, anchoring and warm as his mouth moved over her, slick and hot and fairly worshiping against her skin as she felt a slow curl of fire begin to burn deep within her belly…
Kristoff's arms tight around her as he lifted her hips and slid inside her, slowly, very slowly, and she'd clung to him, breathed hard against his shoulder and for the first time in her life understood why they called it making love…
Kristoff holding her, kissing her brow, telling her he loved her as he pressed her close, and she'd wrapped herself around him, heart so warm and full it nearly seemed to burst from her chest as she drifted off to sleep in his arms…
Kristoff stirred in his sleep from where he lay spooned against her, pressing a sleepy kiss to her hair, and Anna closed her eyes and curled closer to him even as something sharp and bitter rose to the back of her throat.
The fingers of her right hand rose shakily to twist around the brilliant fire opal ring on her left, and it seemed to burn against her skin, driving deep into her chest even as it pulled her apart.
You're still a married woman, the voice in her head ground out in a harsh whisper. And you couldn't have defiled your wedding vows any worse than what you did last night.
Anna swallowed hard, closing her eyes more tightly, fingers twisting against her ring.
It was right. She knew it was right. She'd sinned against her marriage bed, given herself over to desire, lay down willingly beneath Kristoff and clung to him in the night.
Once, not long before, Anna would have left it at that, let the guilt wash over her, let it burn and twist and tear at her as she slinked away, be a good wife repeating on an endless loop at the back of her mind as she broke heart, mind, and body to pieces yet again.
…but she couldn't.
From the moment Kristoff had first pressed his lips to hers, from the moment she felt that warm rush within her chest, all the wounds scored deep into her heart, old and fresh alike, beginning to heal over as he held her… Anna knew.
Her heart belonged to Kristoff.
And, as he held her hands and stared down at her, as he pressed his forehead to hers and kissed her, slow and lingering, she knew that his belonged to her.
It wasn't enough on its own to heal the still-weeping scars laid into her. Dappled bruises still ached dully along her skin, the sharper bite of fingernail marks scored thick along her sides still stung, and she still trembled at the memory of Hans's hands bruising-tight around her wrists, of his barked commands whipping sharp across her, of being forced to kneel even as her blood ran ice-cold and everything within her screamed at her to run.
But, Anna thought, eyes still closed as she laid her hand over Kristoff's, swallowing hard against the knot that rose to her throat… it was a start. To be loved fully and warmly instead of cruelly, to be held and comforted instead of broken.
And to be reminded, through silent touch and steadfastness, through kindness and warmth and friendship… that she was worthy of love.
And that she was strong enough to heal from what she'd thought it was.
Anna held back a contented sigh as she snuggled into the blankets, blindly turning over as she attempted to get comfortable… only to slip with a hard crash from the bed to the floor in a tangle of blankets and sheets and flailing limbs, her head spinning and eyes dilating as she attempted to reorient herself.
She distantly noticed Kristoff sitting upright in bed, one hand roughly scrubbing over his face as he glanced with bleary eyes around the room. "What the hell was…" he started, voice rough with sleep, words trailing off as he noticed Anna awkwardly pulling the heap of blankets around herself, staring up at him sheepishly.
"…uh…" Anna attempted, clutching the blankets close to her bare chest, "…I… uh… good morning?" She offered him a half-hearted smile.
Kristoff stared at her, hand dropping limply to the bed, eyes wide.
"…I…" Anna said, flexing her toes against the rough hardwood floor and averting her gaze even as Kristoff continued to stare at her, "…I think your bed is, uh, a little smaller than mine up at the house. Not that it's a bad bed or anything, it's actually pretty comfortable… well, okay, sleeping with you was pretty comfortable, not so much the bed… not that sleeping with you was, like, ridiculously comfortable or anything, I swear you're like a furnace at night, Kristoff, but I… it…" Anna shrugged and smiled bashfully up at him, fingers still twisting in the blanket. "…I liked it," she said after a moment. "I… I liked it a lot."
Kristoff was still staring at her, not speaking, brow furrowed in confusion. "…you're here," he said finally, something strange and inscrutable wrapped around the words.
Anna raised a curious eyebrow at him. "…I mean," she said slowly, "I'm told it's, well… it's kind of rude to not stay over… after. Not that I've… aftered that many times or anything, I mean, before last night I'd only aftered with…" Anna bit her lip and closed her eyes for the span of a few heartbeats, pushing Hans out of her mind.
Kristoff shook his head a little, still staring. "I didn't…" he started, swallowing hard, eyes bright and soft as he moved across the bed on shaky legs, reaching out to take Anna's hand and pull her to her feet.
Anna was quiet as he sat at the edge of the bed, one hand curving gingerly along her cheek, eyes searching her face. "…I didn't think last night…" His cheeks were pink in the low lamplight, and he closed his eyes as he inhaled a deep, shaky breath. "…I thought I'd dreamed it." He opened his eyes and stared at her, and Anna's heart turned over in her chest at the raw emotion within them, love and hope and hesitant fear all at once.
Anna raised one trembling hand to fold over his, taking a deep breath and letting the blankets around her fall to the floor. "I'm here," she said on a soft whisper, stroking her thumb over the back of his hand. "I'm here."
She wasn't sure which of them moved first, as Kristoff's hands tangled in her hair and Anna's came fast around his shoulders, their lips pressed together in a firm, desperate kiss, Anna half-turned in Kristoff's lap even as he gently laid her back against the bed.
Kristoff wrapped his arms tightly around her, peppering warm kisses along her brow, her cheeks, her lips, down along the side of her neck before he pressed his forehead to her shoulder. "…I never thought I'd see you again," he said after a moment, voice tight, and Anna bit back a sob as she stroked her hand through his hair. "After… when you said..."
His voice trailed off as Anna nudged him, drawing him up and into a soft, warm kiss.
"I love you," she said, resting their foreheads together, eyes falling shut. "No matter what happens, no matter what I said…" She tangled her fingers in the soft blond hair at his nape, brushed her lips over his. "…I love you."
It was surprising and not all at once, how naturally they fell together then, Kristoff's lips warm and soft against hers, hands stroking over her bared skin in a gentle caress, tangling together as the kiss grew deeper, more fervent, more urgent…
Anna yelped in pain as Kristoff's hands curved over the skin just above her ribs, curving back beside her breasts, and he pulled back, eyes wide in concern as he glanced down to her.
Anna shook her head, attempting to pull him back down to her. "It's fine," she said. "It's… it's nothing."
Kristoff said nothing, and Anna bit hard against her lower lip as his eyes scanned over her torso, over the fading bruises and lines, and she saw his eyes narrow, his shoulders tremble, saw the tightness, the anger rising up along his spine.
"Him?" he asked, voice tight.
Anna nodded, gasping and closing her eyes tight as Kristoff moved then, dipping his head down, and she froze, went rigid with fear as she remembered bruising-tight hands, remembered hurting and hurting and hurting and…
There was a warm kiss against the largest of the bruises, curving down over her hip, the rough outline of a handprint.
Then another over her ribs, a gentle kiss sliding over her skin, and she slowly opened her eyes and watched as Kristoff silently laid his lips over every mark along her body, one hand stroking warmly over the soft curve above her hip.
"Never again," he murmured against her skin. "Never, Anna. I promise. Even if it kills me."
Anna's eyes fluttered shut as Kristoff continued to kiss her, along her breasts, her ribs, her belly, the slope of her thighs, and she sighed contentedly as he once again set his mouth to her, still stroking the curve of her hip even as she arched up against the gentle press and slide of his lips and tongue.
Anna tangled her fingers gently against his nape even as she settled her head back against the pillow.
"I love you," she said softly, smiling a little as Kristoff slid his hand into hers, gently twining their fingers together as he closed his mouth around her and Anna's head fell back on a low moan.
Later, he whispered the words back to her, over and over, the shape of them ghosting over her lips as they made love, slow, unhurried, all clasping hands and searing kisses, foreheads pressed tightly together as they shuddered and clung and fell to pieces.
Anna wasn't entirely sure what time it was as she and Kristoff finally pulled apart, just a little, just enough to kiss and stroke hands through sweat-slicked hair, all sated, gentle touches that ended with Kristoff laying his head upon Anna's breast, nuzzling in against her skin, arms tight and protective around her waist.
Anna was quiet as she wrapped one arm around his shoulders and stroked his hair, frowning to herself as her wedding ring once more flashed brightly in the low light.
The damning voice within her was silent, but the familiar turn of guilt still rose up within her chest.
"Anna," Kristoff murmured against her, and she closed her eyes and held him closer.
She loved him. Loved him in a deep, abiding way that had kept her whole as she was torn apart, before she'd even come to realize it.
But in the end…
…she was still Hans's wife.
Anna closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she pulled gently away, leaning down to press a tender kiss to Kristoff's forehead even as she drew her knees up to her chest and settled her back against the wall, avoiding his gaze.
"…Anna?" Kristoff asked hesitantly, reaching over to gently stroke her hair, and Anna dropped her forehead to her knees but didn't shy from his touch. "…Anna. Sweetheart, talk to me. What's wrong?"
"…I love you," Anna said, her voice muffled by her knees but still audibly breaking. "I love you so much, Kristoff."
Kristoff was quiet for a long moment. "…is… that what's wrong?"
Anna looked up, eyes tight with pain. "No," she said. "…yes. No. I…" She dropped her face into her hands, resting her elbows along her knees. "…I can't go back to the way things were," she said after a long moment, fighting back the tremor building along her shoulders. "I can't let him hurt me anymore. I can't. I won't."
Kristoff was silent beside her.
"… but I can't pretend that this is okay, either. I can't... I can't be his wife and sleep with you like this, and I can't act like it was just a one-time thing because it's already been twice and I really don't want it to even just be twice and I… I know he's hurt me, but I need it to be fair to both of you."
Kristoff still said nothing.
Anna slid her hands from her face in frustration. "Kristoff, would you please say someth…"
She trailed off as she noticed the look on his face, eyes wide, face pale, body utterly still.
"…where did you get that?" he asked.
Anna stared at him curiously, following the track of his eyes to the fire opal ring on her left hand.
"…my wedding ring?" Anna asked in confusion, twisting it around her finger.
"…that's not your wedding ring," Kristoff said, voice strangely inscrutable. "You wear a plain gold band."
"…well, yeah, most of the time. But Hans gave me this one for special occasions on our wedding day." She frowned a little, looking down at it. "I put it on yesterday. When I… when I was thinking about things. What… what I wanted to do. Needed to."
Kristoff's eyes never moved from the ring, and Anna frowned a little at him in concern. "Kristoff?" she asked, gently laying her hand along his forearm.
"…I've seen this before," he said after a long moment, reaching out with one unsteady hand to pull hers closer and examine it.
Anna's frown deepened, brow creasing worriedly as Kristoff tilted her hand, watching as the ring caught the light. "…I've seen this before," he repeated. "On Christabel."
There was something dark and unsteady in his voice, and Anna felt a cold slice of icy fear down her spine. "It…" she started, gingerly pulling her hand away, "…it's a family heirloom. It would make sense if he gave it to her, too."
"No, Anna," Kristoff said, eyes fierce and insistent as he grasped her hands in his. "I saw it the day she and Hans left for their boating trip."
He sat back on his heels, still staring down at the ring. "…she liked to get away sometimes," he said quietly. "She'd have me saddle up her horse and have it waiting for her in the stables some nights. More and more of them the longer she was here. The night before, she'd…" Kristoff hesitated. "…she came in bleeding, all along her arms, her neck. She didn't want to hear anything, just wanted to get out, so I kept my head down and let her ride."
He took a deep breath. "I'd almost hoped for her sake that she'd kept riding, but there she was, with him, first thing in the morning when I brought their horses up. Hans was being, well, himself, shouting orders and insulting everyone… but Christabel was just staring and wringing her hands together. I couldn't say anything, not with him right there… so I just watched her, over and over again, just twisting her wedding ring around."
Kristoff took Anna's hand tightly in his. "It's the same ring," he said in a low, urgent voice. "It's the same ring, Anna. They never found her body after the accident, how does he have this?"
Anna stared down at their clasped hands, something dark and cold tumbling over in her chest.
"…the locked room," she whispered, reaching to stroke trembling fingers over the opal.
"What?"
Anna raised her eyes to Kristoff's, saw the fear and dread she felt reflected within them. "…yesterday," she said slowly, "before… before he left. He gave me… all of these keys, to all of the locked rooms up at the manor house. But he… he told me not to go into one of them."
Anna… there are some things a man keeps solely to himself. Even from his wife.
Anna felt a sharp prickle of fear deep within her chest as she slipped the ring off with unsteady fingers, laying it in her palm and staring at it.
"…Anna," Kristoff said quietly beside her, and Anna started at the rawness of his voice even as she looked to him, "please let me take you home. Please."
Anna was silent, biting her lip and glancing back to the ring.
"Anna," Kristoff said again, curving his hand around her cheek and drawing her gaze up to his, "something's wrong here. I don't know how he has that ring or what he's keeping from you in that room, but something is very, very wrong here." His eyes burned into hers as he stroked his thumb over her cheekbone. "Anna, please. I need you to be safe. I need to get you out of here."
Anna laid her hand over his, brows drawn tight with unease, biting hard against her lip…
"No, no one's seen him all day, Lord Westergard. He put in a lot of time yesterday, might just be resting it off."
Kristoff and Anna pulled apart, eyes wide at the sound of the distant voice, Kristoff pulling Anna protectively behind him.
"Bjorgman's rest patterns are of little concern to me," a familiarly-aristocratic voice said from beyond the door, and Anna felt her blood turn to ice.
"He's supposed to be in France!" Anna said in an urgent whisper, curling close to Kristoff.
"Stay here," Kristoff said quietly, pressing a quick, comforting kiss to Anna's temple even as he wrapped the blanket around her. "I'll take care of him."
Anna nodded, pressing herself up against the wall as Kristoff quickly dressed, throwing on his discarded pants and shirt and moving to the door in two long strides, closing it tightly behind him.
"See, there he is," the unseen servant said in a too-bright voice. "Probably hungover or something, aren't you, Bjorgman, you big…"
"Leave us." Hans's voice was tight and cold, clearly brooking no argument.
Anna slowly rose to her feet, carefully shifting her weight along the bed and creeping over to the door, pressing her ear up against the rough, worn wood.
"Sleeping so late in the day, Kristoff?" Hans asked. "Not like you at all. You do look like hell, though. That's business as usual, at least."
"Thought you were supposed to be gone for awhile," Kristoff said, voice flat and dispassionate.
Hans was quiet for a moment. "Deals fall through sometimes, Kristoff," he said. "Even ones that seem exceptionally promising at the outset. A little like women, really."
"Nice. Wonder why they aren't falling all over themselves to get to you."
"Oh, the one's enough for now. God knows she's dumb as a post, but she's useful enough for her primary purpose."
Anna folded her lip in hard against her teeth, eyes narrowed as she clenched her fists at her sides and struggled to remain silent.
"Are you here just to insult your wife or was there something you actually wanted?" Kristoff asked, and Anna started as his weight settled against the other side of the door, holding it shut.
"There's plenty I want, Kristoff. And one day you'll understand that I always get what I want."
There was the sound of a firm step, and Anna unconsciously took a step backwards.
"Always," Hans said.
There was a heavy silence in the barn for a long moment before Hans spoke again. "But for now," he said, "I'd settle for a full pantry. The kitchen staff informed me that you took an unsuccessful hunting trip not too long ago."
"Not my fault the deer weren't cooperating," Kristoff said in a tight voice, and Anna managed a small smile at the memory of his arrow lodged in the rough bark of a distant pine.
"Yes, well. Maybe they'll be more cooperative today. Get your gear together. I'll meet you here in half an hour."
"…what?" Kristoff's voice betrayed his unease, and Anna pressed her hand to the door, tried to will her strength into him from the other side.
"I don't repeat myself, Kristoff. Admittedly, the snow's a bit thick today, but you've hunted in snow before, surely."
"…I have, yeah. Does it have to be today, though?"
Hans was quiet for a moment. "Yes," he said, voice dark and low. "I'm afraid it does. Schedules to keep, you understand."
Anna felt a slow turn of unease in her stomach. Don't, she thought silently to Kristoff. You're right, something's wrong… don't… don't…
"…fine," Kristoff said after a long moment. "Half an hour. I'll be ready."
"…no," Hans said, and Anna could picture his slow, easy smirk even as the memory of it sent a chill down her spine. "You won't."
She heard his footsteps as he walked away. "Oh, Kristoff," Hans called back. "If you just happen to see my dear Anna around, do give her my best, won't you?"
Anna held her breath until she heard the familiar heavy thud of the barn door closing, and then the door to the bedchamber opened quickly, Kristoff appearing in the doorway and gathering Anna up in his arms.
Anna wrapped her arms tightly around him, burying her face against his chest. "…what was that?" she whispered, eyes wide even as Kristoff stroked a comforting hand through her hair. "I've… I've never heard him like that. Never."
"Wish I could say the same," Kristoff said in a rough voice, kissing the crown of Anna's head.
"…I want to go home," Anna said, closing her eyes as her words broke on a sob. "Kristoff, I want to go home."
Kristoff was quiet, rubbing her back in wide circles and pressing his cheek to the top of her head. "Get dressed," he said after a moment. "Hans'll be back here in half an hour sharp. He's never late. I'll take him out to the forest, spend an hour or two taking down a deer." He pulled back, gently curving a hand around her cheek. "You pack your bags and have them ready when we get back. I'll saddle up Sven and we'll get out of here."
Anna laid her hand over his, staring up at him with teary eyes. "…will you stay with me? After?"
Kristoff hesitated, glancing down at her. "…if I can," he said finally. "Anna, I… I still have debts to settle. I can't leave those in good conscience."
He started to pull away, only for Anna to hold fast. "We'll figure it out together," she said insistently. Her gaze softened a fraction as she interlocked her fingers with his. "Always, remember?"
Kristoff stared at her for a long moment before nodding, leaning down to drop his forehead against hers. "Always," he said.
His arms were warm around her as he tilted his head to capture her lips in a firm kiss, one hand tangling in her hair, and Anna closed her eyes and leaned into the embrace, feeling his touch running hot and fast through her blood.
"I'll keep you safe, Anna," Kristoff murmured against her lips. "I promise."
Anna nodded, turning her face in against their clasped hands. "Promise me you'll come back to me," she said quietly.
"I promise. Don't worry about me." He laid a warm kiss against her forehead before pulling away, moving to the far side of the room and retrieving his bow from behind a small table. "It won't be just me out there," he said meaningfully, offering Anna a small smile as she pulled on her nightdress.
Anna eyed him uneasily as he slung his quiver over his back and tugged on his boots.
"That's what I'm afraid of," she said, very quietly.
The previous day's snow continued to fall in thick, heavy sheets as Anna carefully made her way up to the manor house, one of Kristoff's work shirts draped warmly over her shoulders. The estate was eerily quiet, not a soul to be seen, and Anna wrapped her arms tightly around herself as she slipped into the house and made her way up the stairs to her bedchamber.
The house was as still as the grounds had been, no servants milling about, nothing of the daily chatter that seemed to echo through the halls as any number of hands set about the task of keeping house.
Instead, there was a perfect silence, the kind that almost seemed to reverberate within itself, and Anna quickened her pace as she strode down the hallway.
The doors to her bedchamber opened on a long, dragging creak that seemed deafening in the still quiet, and Anna winced to hear it even as she slipped inside.
The room was exactly as she'd left it, unmade bed and all, and she distantly wondered if Hans had even visited it before his trip to the barn as she quietly retrieved her valise from the closet.
Anna hesitated for a moment as she ran her hands over the rough, worn leather of the suitcase, biting her lip and glancing around the bedchamber.
No one's saying you can't come back, she thought to herself. No one's saying that you're… that you're just leaving your marriage outright…
Anna closed her eyes, dropping her chin to her chest.
In the end… that was exactly what she was doing.
She lifted the valise in her arms and silently carried it over to the bed, dropping it down before heading to the armoire and retrieving the dresses she'd brought with her from home.
Home.
Home to a crumbling house, to a distant sister…
Anna glanced warily at the writing desk, feeling a sharp stab deep in her chest as she thought of the letters she'd written.
You're not surprised that you never heard from her, she thought to herself. You know you're not.
And she wasn't.
But it still hurt.
Anna was quiet as she carefully folded the dresses and set them into her valise, bracing her hands on the sides of it and standing quietly for a long moment.
Dear Elsa, she thought with a humorless smile.
I'm sure you'll be so happy to see me.
To know that you were right.
Anna frowned a little, closing her eyes and sighing deeply.
Maybe that wasn't exactly fair.
After all, it wasn't like Elsa knew what had happened. Anna's letters had been vague even in their emotion — hardly cause for alarm.
Anna worried her lip between her teeth, glancing down to her valise.
…could she really do this?
Could she return home to the life she'd found herself suffocating in, the life she'd been so desperate to leave behind?
Shaking her head, Anna pushed the valise down, heart clenching in her chest at the dull, metallic sound that echoed through the room.
She reached with trembling hands to push the valise aside, staring down at the keys laying dark and unassuming on the bed.
She reached down and hefted them in her hands, fingers curling over the heavy iron key in the middle, blood running cold.
The one room you're barred from entering…
Some things a man keeps solely to himself…
It's the same ring, Anna…
Wordlessly, she slipped the key from the ring, holding it flat in her palm as she glanced to the windows, to the twisting strands of snow falling thickly in the fading light.
Hans and Kristoff would be home soon.
But not that soon.
Anna bit her lip as she stared at the key, finally closing her hand around it and moving silently to the doors, wincing again at the heavy, protesting creak.
The hall was still silent and growing darker as the day wore on, and Anna clutched the key to her chest, heart pounding as she moved slowly past any number of unmarked doors, eyes firmly trained on the last door to the right.
Her nerves were on fire, every angstrom of her screaming to turn on her heel and run, to finish packing her things and wait for Kristoff to return, to leave whatever secrets Hans held fast behind the lock.
But she had to know.
She had to know.
It was a nondescript door, identical to the other thick oak panels along the hallway, but this one had a heavy, old-fashioned iron lock set within it.
The keyhole seemed to stare at her, accusing and dark, even as Anna set the key to it with trembling fingers and turned.
The door opened easily, and Anna took a deep breath as she peered inside.
She felt a slight note of disappointment drop within her chest as she surveyed its interior. It seemed for all the world to be just an ordinary study: a long line of towering bookshelves set against the far wall, a pair of uncomfortable-looking armchairs, and a broad mahogany desk covered with papers.
There was an unlit lantern hung on an iron hook by the doorway, a book of matches on a small sideboard beneath it, and Anna set flame to wick with unsteady hands as she stepped fully into the study, lantern in hand.
She frowned slightly as she ran her finger along the edge of the desk, only for it to come away coated in a thin layer of dust. Guess he's not in here all that often, Anna thought, grimacing slightly as she wiped her hand along her skirts.
Lifting the lantern, Anna glanced quickly through the papers on the desk. Nothing too interesting there, either – balance sheets and memorandums, various notes on business that made little sense to her.
Anna's frown deepened even as she continued to search. It all seemed so innocuous, she thought, glancing to the window. Why in God's name would he be so adamant that she stay away from…
Her hand settled along a thick sheet of parchment, and Anna felt her blood run cold, nearly dropping the lantern as she recognized it within the low circle of light.
Down in the valley, Elsa started, eyes wide, one hand accidentally knocking into the water glass beside her.
"…I'm sorry," she managed, dabbing at the spill with her napkin even as Gerda fussed and quickly contained it. "I'm sorry."
"Nothing to it, dear," Gerda said, patting her on the back. "It's just water. No harm done. Something upset you?"
Elsa was quiet, retrieving her fork and staring down at her dinner, willing her heartbeat to settle. "I don't know what," she said uneasily, setting her fork along the chipped edge of the plate. "Just… just a bad feeling about something."
Gerda frowned as she returned to her seat opposite Elsa. "Well," she said after a moment, spearing a piece of fish on her plate, "it's to be expected, dear. Been a long time since you've come out for dinner like this. Don't be too hard on yourself."
Elsa frowned, leaning back in her chair. "Hard not to," she said, very quietly. She glanced to the empty seat beside her and away, not quickly enough to avoid Gerda's observant gaze.
"…still nothing, I'm afraid," Gerda said, folding her hands into her lap. "Although we've not had the mail yet today."
"I know," Elsa said quietly.
"How many letters have you sent her, dear?"
Elsa shrugged, not looking up. "I stopped counting after ten."
"Well… you know how it is with new brides. Starry-eyed and forgetful as they come. I'm sure she'll write to you soon enough, once the honeymoon phase has started to wane."
"I should have known it would be too late," Elsa said quietly.
Gerda regarded her carefully, but said nothing.
"I don't blame her, you know. Not at all." Elsa swallowed hard, bracing her hands against the arms of her chair. "I should have tried harder, Gerda. I shouldn't have shut her out for so long."
"Elsa, dear, it wasn't your fault…"
Elsa stared at her. "Not all of it, no," she said softly. "But I suppose I never truly thought she'd leave and shut me out." She smiled, tight-lipped and humorless. "Foolish, isn't it? That I'd expect her to be better than I was."
She sighed, standing and pushing her chair back. "The best I can do is hope that she's happy," she said. "That's all I have left."
The dining room was silent for a long moment, Gerda staring at Elsa with soft, sad eyes until a sharp knock sounded from the entryway.
Elsa raised her eyes toward the sound, eyebrows raised.
Gerda reached over and patted her hand comfortingly, rising to her feet. "I'll take care of that, dear," she said. "You just finish your dinner. It'll be all right. You'll see."
Elsa nodded, silently sitting back down and staring blankly at the plate in front of her.
Dear Anna, she thought distantly.
Anna sat at the edge of the desk, blinking numbly into the distance, tears dripping onto the paper twisted tightly in her hands.
Dear Anna, her sister's familiar hand said, I understand if you can't forgive me. I understand if it's too late. But I'd hoped… I'd hoped that somehow, maybe we could still be friends. I know by now that you likely don't want to hear from me again, but you're still my sister, Anna… nothing will ever change that.
There were nearly a dozen letters behind her on the desk, each crumpled and tear-stained, set neatly beside Anna's own letters, still perfectly-creased and neatly-arranged, their seals still intact.
The first few letters had been several pages long, hesitant and awkward, detailed but somehow distant accounts of Elsa's treatments as a child, of the damage they had done. She spoke seemingly not to excuse her distance, but to explain it. She ended each with a solemn plea for Anna to write back, for them to try to learn to be sisters again, even now that they were apart.
Anna had clutched those in her fists for a few moments, angry and unsettled, years-old bitterness turning over in her chest as she imagined Elsa exactly as she had always been, desperate and pleading, wishing her sister would talk to her, notice her, care about her.
It was the last letters that had stabbed through her, had caused her tears to begin flowing in earnest.
Elsa, begging Anna's forgiveness.
Elsa, tearing into herself for not fighting hard enough, for pushing her away, for hurting her.
And finally, Elsa giving up.
I would have written back, Anna thought, a hysterical sob rising to her throat. I… I would have tried. I would have. You're still my sister, too.
Anna dropped her head into her hands, her shoulders shaking with dry, silent sobs.
Why did you do this? she thought towards Hans's absent form, imagining him dispassionately collecting Elsa's letters from whatever messenger carried them, bringing them into his study, carelessly setting them on his desk and locking the door behind him. Why did you take my sister from me the one time she actually cared enough to try?
Anna wrapped her arms tightly around her knees, curling in tightly on herself.
I forgive you, Elsa, she thought on a broken sob.
Please forgive me.
"I'm telling you I don't care if you're the goddamn prime minister, I'm not giving it to you!"
Elsa glanced up from her dinner, eyes widening at the rough voice raising high from the entryway.
"And I'm telling you, young man," she heard Gerda's sharp tone respond, "I'll not allow some ruffian like yourself near a wellborn young lady, especially with that kind of language!"
Elsa stood silently from the table and made her way to the entryway, wrapping her arms tightly around herself and hesitantly stepping past the threshold.
Gerda had her arms crossed over her chest, glaring insistently at a young man in traveling clothes with a satchel slung across his chest and a letter held tightly in one hand. "I've told you three times now," the man said through gritted teeth, "I was told in no uncertain terms to give this letter to Elsa Arendelle, and only to Elsa Arendelle. And I'm not moving from this spot until I do!"
"What's going on here?" Elsa asked quietly, eyeing the man.
He turned to face her, eyebrows raised appreciatively, a slow smile appearing on his features as he took a step towards her. "Well now," he said easily, "if I'd known you were waiting on the other side of my run, I'dve made it down here a lot faster. Now, fast, he said, but surely he knows one single, solitary gold ring doesn't buy much in the way of fast these days, not with the price of grain and the old girl being so ornery in the winters…"
"…I'm sorry," Elsa said, taking a step away from him and suppressing a sigh, "did you say you had a letter for me?"
The man eyed Gerda purposefully before handing the roughly-folded parchment to Elsa. "From the Westergard estate," he said.
Elsa's heart beat faster as she took the letter from him with quick, trembling fingers, tearing it open.
"There now," Gerda said tightly, "you've done your duty. Best take your leave now."
"You know, ma'am, it's customary to provide a bit of a favor for…"
"Out."
The man grumbled loudly, shooting Gerda one final pointed glance before exiting through the front door, closing it behind him with a resounding slam.
Gerda glared after him for a moment before turning to Elsa. "The Westergard estate," she said, glancing over Elsa's shoulder. "Is it from Anna, then?"
Elsa had gone utterly still, deathly pale as her eyes quickly scanned over the letter's contents, hands shaking as she reached the end.
"…Elsa? What is it, dear?"
She raised her eyes to Gerda's, the letter clutched tightly in her hands.
"Fetch me my horse," she said, voice dark and urgent.
It was nearly dark by the time Anna finally pushed away from the desk, her tears dried stiff along her cheeks, and she turned and set Elsa's final letter back on the desk and retrieved the lantern, lifting it high.
She froze as she noticed another door set back in the corner, half-obscured by one of the bookshelves, heavy and dark.
Frowning a little, she strode over to it, trying the handle and finding it locked tight.
Silently, she moved back to the desk, gingerly lifting the iron key in her hand and walking back to the door.
It turned in the lock with a heavy metallic clunk that seemed to echo forebodingly through the study.
Taking a deep breath, Anna set her hand to the knob and turned.
The snow lashed tight around them as they rode, and Kristoff glanced ahead to Hans's straightbacked form, completely untroubled by the snow and wind.
"We're not going to be gone all that long, are we?" Kristoff asked flatly, glancing up at the darkening sky. Sven was uneasy beneath him, and he stroked one comforting hand over the horse's broad neck.
"Just long enough," Hans said simply, pulling back on the reins as Kristoff came up beside him. "One kill should be enough, I think." He smiled softly. "For now, anyway."
Kristoff eyed him, meaningfully drawing an arrow from his quiver and setting it to the nock as he slid down from the saddle, keeping his eyes on Hans as he dismounted.
Just an hour or two, he thought, closing his eyes briefly and thinking of Anna.
An hour or two until he could hold her again.
Until he could take her away from here, make sure she was safe.
"Deep in thought, aren't you," Hans said lightly, and Kristoff glared at him.
"Nothing that would interest you."
Hans smiled at him, dark and humorless. "Oh, I doubt that."
Kristoff hoisted his bow, narrowing his eyes a little. "Here and back, Hans," he said, voice tight. "And don't get smart. In a fair fight, we both know I'd kill you."
Hans watched him start down the path, eyes flat and cold.
"In a fair fight," he said quietly, reaching down to extract a long, sharp dagger from his boot, "you'd be right."
Anna's heart pounded hard and fast in her chest, eyes wide, her hand clutching tight to the lantern as she stared through the doorway, to a long set of evenly-cut stone stairs curving downward, lamplight and shadows flickering red and dark along the walls.
Every nerve within her was on fire, her body threaded tight with tension, legs burning with the desire to run.
They never found her body, Kristoff's voice seemed to echo around her, turning her blood to ice, sealing her breath tight in her lungs.
Did she even want to know?
Could she leave without knowing?
Taking a deep, unsteady breath, Anna took one hesitant step forward.
One step down, as a desperate sister rode into the night.
One step down, as the hunt ended as quickly as it began.
One step down, as a young wife's newfound heart bled thick and red into freshly-fallen slow.
Down.
Down.
Down.