Elsa doubted the newly stocked stables possessed a saintly steed that could tolerate her. Even if there were more of the beasts now, all of them were expensive and weren't the expensive ones usually high-strung? Not that Elsa would know, but she was proven wrong when Anna found an inky black stallion that did not glare at her in suspicion.

"Come on, he's not going to bite!" Anna said. "You do have to, you know, touch the horse if you're going to ride it."

"Why? It's trained to go and stop when I say so. Unless this is one of the ill-mannered ones you like to rehabilitate."

"Elsa! You can't treat horses like they're your subjects!" This was a recurring issue with Elsa, probably because of her autocratic tendencies that Anna found so attractive, though her feelings on that were currently edging into exasperation. Elsa seemed to expect everything to obey her if she glared at it enough, which could probably include the weather and what direction the sun rose. Anna had half a mind to believe that Elsa could very well make the sun rise in the north if it suited her purposes enough.

"Then I suppose I will have to present myself for his grace's approval?"

"His name is Hector," Anna said, undaunted. "He's not a duke, he is your horse and he's well-trained. Let him smell you. He's the one who's going to carry you around and a good rapport would be best."

Elsa sighed and thrust her hand unceremoniously under the horse's nose. Hector's ears flicked back, possibly at the sudden movement or in offense at the cavalier treatment. "You want me to have a good rapport with a horse named after a Greek hero."

"He's sired four champions," Anna defended. "And he's only four years old!"

"A prodigious achievement. One for each year it's been alive," Elsa answered with a faint sneer. "I shall rest easy knowing my investment will produce a champion return per annum. And is it done sniffing me? I grow anxious with my writing hand so close to its teeth."

Anna nearly sighed again. Elsa was just nervous and testy, she told herself. And when Elsa was nervous and testy, she could be difficult and sarcastic. Anna reached deep within herself for her reservoir of patience, which appeared to have sprung a leak.

"His name is Hector," she repeated. "Not 'it.' He does respond to his name. Riding would be a better experience for both parties if the rider didn't look at her horse like he will bite her."

"Forgive me if prior experiences have colored present expectations," Elsa returned, lip still curled.

Anna rolled her eyes and seized Elsa's wrist, pulling her closer to Hector. "It is okay to pet him," she said. "Just stroke his cheek. Yes, like that. See? He's a good boy."

Elsa's eyebrow twitched. A good boy. Like it was an overgrown dog. That wasn't far from the truth in actuality; Anna loved horses and horses loved her back. Even the ones that didn't initially, all horses eventually adored Anna and responded enthusiastically to whatever she asked, be it jumping over very high shrubs to galloping ever faster. Elsa supposed she could understand the sentiment, though she would not be jumping over bushes or galloping anywhere no matter how nicely Anna asked.

Elsa eyed Hector. The horse didn't appear to mind her touch, but was watching her just as warily. A nod from Anna had Elsa lifting her hand away to rub Hector's broad neck. She was surprised at how solid the beast felt. The short bristly hair scraped against her riding glove, but it was almost… nice. He also felt quite warm. She was still prepared to retreat in case he found her alluring enough to avail himself for a taste of her hand, though.

"See? He's a good boy. Very easy-tempered." Anna would have suggested for Elsa to blow into Hector's nose, but she thought that might have been pushing it. For later, Anna decided, she could get Elsa to bond more with Hector, though she thought Roma was better suited for the queen. Anna could see a calm temperament in the mare that would put Elsa at ease, or at least as much at ease as Elsa could be around horses. Anna sincerely wished Uncle Alexander would have just given Elsa a different pony when Elsa was younger so they wouldn't have to deal with Elsa's aversion to horses now.

"He seems to like me well enough," Elsa allowed. "Ah, I think I see Gerda with our lunch."

They both turned to watch the housekeeper walk in quick strides across the courtyard with a large satchel in her arms.

"It's just lunch," Anna said, her eyes wide. "Not an expedition."

Elsa hid a smile as Gerda approached them.

"I hope you were not waiting long," Gerda said, slightly out of breath. A groom stepped forward to take the satchel and, with Elsa's nod, secured it to the back of Hector's saddle.

"Were you expecting us to not return for a week?" Elsa said. "Did you pack a tent as well?"

"Your majesty had not specified what to pack, so I've put in an assortment," Gerda said, giving Elsa a narrow-eyed look that promised unsubtle retribution. Elsa raised her brows in challenge. She had not forgotten their encounter from the library earlier that morning, and was eager to redeem herself.

"Actually, camping wouldn't be a bad idea," Anna commented.

Elsa and Gerda both swiveled their heads to stare at her. "What?" Anna exclaimed. "Kristoff and I used to do it all the time back in Corona! It's fun!"

"Corona is considerably warmer than Arendelle," Elsa said. "And if you'd like to get away from the castle occasionally, there are a few hunting boxes in the forest. With fireplaces and beds."

Anna rolled her eyes. "Oh, please, where's the fun in that? You'd be fine, Elsa. I'd be the only one who'd have to worry about the cold." Which was exactly why Elsa was adverse to the idea, and not just the general inconvenience of it. Camping? Why would anyone willingly consent to sleep on the ground when the alternative was available?

"Perhaps this is another matter we'll revisit," Elsa answered diplomatically, not wanting to argue before Gerda. While Anna rolled her eyes again, Elsa turned back to Gerda. "I'm not sure when we'll be back, but you can expect us for dinner." Her voice dropped so Anna could not hear. "Will my father-in-law be in attendance?"

Gerda frowned slightly, but she understood enough to know when Elsa was speaking of something important. "He has not indicated otherwise. I believe both the king and queen of Corona will be present."

Relief and dread filled her, but Elsa did not allow her expression to change. She gave Gerda a tight nod. "Please ensure, to the best of your ability, that his plans do not change. I want no other guests present either." Once Gerda nodded acknowledgement, Elsa returned to grasp Hector's reins.

"We should leave now," Elsa said to Anna. "We can leave through a side gate to bypass the city. If I remember correctly, there's a trail that cuts through a part of the forest and leads into some fairly flat fields along the fjord."

Anna mounted gracefully on Roma. "I don't think I've been down that path, but if you know the way, I'll follow."

Which was a very good idea since that would mean Elsa could not see Anna's legs. Then Elsa looked at the ground to Hector's saddle and wondered if she could manage to mount at all. It had been a very long time since she'd last done this. She hoped Hector's magnanimity extended until she could get on his back—she prefered to at least be mounted before she humiliated herself. Grasping the saddle pommel in one hand and the seat with the other, Elsa slid one boot into the stirrup and, with a deep breath, hauled herself up.

The world tilted and dropped. With a mild start, Elsa found herself seated properly. Hector was still beneath her and placid. Gerda was watching her with a slight smile. Anna was to Elsa's right and looking pleased as well.

"Good?" Anna asked, pulling Roma closer to Hector. Elsa settled into the saddle, trying to adjust to the feeling of being so high up. It was a bit unnerving, along with how broad a horse's back was. She gingerly eased her other boot into the stirrup, accidentally brushed Hector's flank, and nearly yelped when the horse took a step. Her hand lunged for the saddle pommel.

"Good grief," Elsa managed. She truly was out of practice. A quick inspection found no ice on the saddle leather anywhere. She sighed in relief; the gloves were helping with that, at least.

Anna chuckled. "You're fine. Just relax. It'll come back to you."

Elsa certainly hoped so, especially if she was the one leading. Grasping the reins, she managed to aim Hector's head to the side gate. Gerda went up to her and patted her knee. "You'll be fine," she said, echoing Anna. Her voice lowered. "Your wife does look very fetching today. I've packed a surprise for you. Don't come back too early, now," she said with a sly look.

Elsa stared at her housekeeper. "It's not that kind of ride," she muttered. "I'll be lucky if I don't break my neck during the course of this excursion."

But Gerda had already stepped back and given Hector a good smack on the rump to send them off. Elsa, unprepared, nearly lurched backward and did actually yelp that time, but not loud enough to drown out the sound of Gerda's hearty laugh.

Unsubtle retribution achieved, Elsa thought sourly, and clung to her saddle.

—-

"No guards?" Anna asked as they left the city outskirts. Arendelle looked like a pretty gem surrounded by the clear waters of the fjord, the blue sky reflecting off the mirror-like surface. The path was leading into wooded terrain.

"Not for where we're going," Elsa answered. Her back was already slick with sweat while Anna looked as fresh as the moment they'd left. She had also forgotten how exerting riding could be; they'd only been gone for a half hour. "I have a certain freedom because of my powers."

Anna, who was on Elsa's right side, gave her a curious look. "Really? I mean, not that Arendelle is overrun by shady types, but you are the queen and outside the city walls. I'd have thought the guard would be chaperoning us."

"This trail isn't often used," Elsa said. "And it's precisely because I'm the queen that nobody will want to approach us if we are alone." The smile that bared was cutting. "Cursed and all. Rumor has it that I can freeze anyone into a block of ice and simply dump them into the fjord."

Anna was aghast. "But you would never do that, Elsa!"

"No, but people think I can and will." She shifted on the seat to try to relieve the tension in her lower back. "A perpetuated rumor can be used to advantageous effect. Because of that particular one I have a greater deal of autonomy than others. Others being monarchs, that is."

"But that's still awful," Anna said in a small voice. "That people think you would do that."

Elsa shrugged. "I don't particularly mind it. It can be useful for business negotiations, that unsaid threat. Fear is a strong motivator to acquiesce to my terms." She glanced at Anna. "Does it bother you so much?"

"A little," Anna admitted. "I wouldn't… I wouldn't want people to be afraid of you." Not when Elsa was actually quite kind and so thoughtful, Anna thought. For heaven's sake, Anna was wearing and sitting upon the evidence of Elsa's thoughtfulness. She doubted anyone else would have done so much, wealth notwithstanding.

"I have a more… pragmatic view on it," Elsa said after a moment's hesitation. "The powers are—I don't wish for them. But I have them and I can't change that. I'll make the best of it. But I wouldn't wish my powers upon anyone else. It's not... It's not a gift."

Anna looked like she wanted to say more, but decided against it. They continued along the wooded trail with nothing but the sound of songbirds and their horses' hoofbeats to fill the silence.

From behind Elsa, Anna found her eyes continually drawn back to the queen. It was like looking at a drab painting where the subject was the only source of color—the viewer couldn't help but look and try to decipher the artist's intent. Elsa did cut a fine figure with Hector's strong lines, though she was somewhat awkward with the way she sat in the saddle. Anna had to bite her tongue to keep from correcting Elsa's posture. At some point, Elsa finally had enough and shucked her jacket, folding it over the back of her saddle. Anna found her eyes lingering appreciatively over the way Elsa's damp shirt stuck to her back. She couldn't resist admiring Elsa anymore than she could breathing—she could prevent it for a few minutes, but eventually she would need to breathe lest the princess consort wanted to wind up blue in the face or unconscious on the ground.

Elsa's figure was also very slender. She was not ghastly thin, but Elsa's shoulder blades did seem a bit prominent with the way her shirt molded to them, and her waist a tad too slight. Anna knew that Elsa's hands were strong, but the breadth of her shoulders was on the narrow side. Elsa didn't quite look sickly, but more… overworked, Anna realized. And knowing Elsa, she probably was willfully overworking.

Anna's father had been right—Elsa didneed to eat more. She wasn't quite skin and bones, but she was on her way to it if Anna left her to her own devices. Anna had every intention of making sure that Elsa would be properly fed, though she was recalling with some guilt that she had made Elsa leave before the queen could finish her breakfast. That thought also made her remember the coffee—Elsa didn't even like coffee, which was a taste that both of them shared—Anna made a note to ask her about it. She tried to remember if Elsa had eaten much during the party and could only recall her picking at her food and sharing the chocolates. Elsa had to be feeling hungry by now.

"I can hear you thinking," Elsa commented, not turning. "I think there might be two holes in the back of my shirt with how you've been staring at me."

Anna couldn't prevent the smile that crept up. "Was it so obvious?"

"You do like to fill the silences," Elsa said, glancing over her shoulder at Anna. "If you weren't talking, then you were daydreaming or thinking up schemes to get us in trouble." A glint lit up Elsa's eyes. "And I'd have to wade in to get you out of it if it was the latter."

Anna laughed. "Maybe I'm actually thinking serious thoughts," she said.

"Well, I suppose it was bound to happen one of these days," was Elsa's dry reply.

Anna's jaw dropped. "Elsa! That was mean!" But Anna was unoffended and nudged Roma up next to Hector. "How do you feel, though?"

Elsa gave her an arch look. "Like I've been riding for the first time in forever?"

"Well, other than that." Anna tried to discreetly search for signs of fatigue on Elsa's face and didn't find anything unusual except the look of someone being forced to exercise after too long. "Are you tired? We can stop if you want."

Elsa smiled thinly at her. "Regretting turning down my offer for an escort?" Elsa hated looking so unskilled before Anna even though she had warned the younger woman.

God. Elsa was reacting just as Anna thought she might—affronted dignity glared back at the princess consort. "Not at all," Anna said lightly, deciding to counter the barb with good humor. "I was just asking in case you'd rather have lunch before or after we get to the fields. I was thinking a good race would be nice once we get there."

Anna was rewarded with a suspicious glance. "I see," Elsa allowed after a pause. "My back does hurt a bit," she conceded.

"You're too tense," Anna said. "You're not centered on the saddle and it's jarring you."

"I'm not sure how else to do this," Elsa confessed once she was sure Anna would not think less of her for it. Her damned dented pride. "I'm sorry, I've never been very good at it even when I rode more often."

Anna shook her head at the apology. "It's all right. You… I don't think you like doing something that you can't control," she said. Elsa looked at her in surprise; Anna was a bit surprised herself. She'd never consciously thought about it, but it did make sense for Elsa. She decided to press on.

"You've spent most of your life trying to control your powers, and doing what your father taught you, and Uncle Alexander never did place much stock in riding," Anna said with a slight smile. "But horses can't always be controlled. They're another living thing and while they can be trained and be well-mannered, you can't ever really dictate them the same way you can people."

There was another pause as Elsa absorbed her words. "Well," she said, considering the words. The reasoning wasn't unsound, though it also uncovered some parts of herself that were not very flattering. Elsa did not want to turn her face away from truth, however, and glanced at Anna to continue.

Anna reddened. She wondered if any of that sounded coherent. "I just mean that that might be why you're not comfortable around them, your powers aside. Hector doesn't mind you, clearly, but you're still not willing to trust him."

"He's an animal," Elsa said automatically, then looked away when she realized she'd just proved Anna's point.

"At least you didn't call him an 'it,'" Anna said, smiling. "Progress?"

"Perhaps," Elsa permitted. "As good as your riding lessons are, though, I don't think I will improve by the day's end."

"Well, today isn't about learning to ride," Anna said. "It's just about spending the day together."

Elsa gazed at her for a moment, but smiled and nodded.

—-

They completed the remainder of the trip to the stretch of open field by following the edge of the fjord. They traveled in relative silence, both contained within their own thoughts. The sun was high above their heads and the day warm when they arrived. The fjord lay on one side of the field and trees lined the other with a cleared path that led away from the water into the mountains. Sunlight brightened the tall grass and there was a idyllic air to the scene, the only sound coming from the wind blowing through.

"This is my family's land," Elsa remarked. "Not the kingdom's. It used to be a small bit of farmland, about three acres, but the previous tenants left and my father let it stay vacant." Elsa pointed to the cleared path. "The farmhouse is still standing further up that path, I think."

"Do you come here often?"

Elsa shook her head. "No, not for some time now," She winced as her back and legs complained. "Anna, I need to get down. I don't know how you can do this all the time," Elsa sighed.

"You just haven't done it enough. Go riding with me every morning and you won't be sore."

Elsa didn't look particularly enthused by the invitation. "We'll see," was all she had to say about it.

"Isn't it nice, though? Being outside?" Anna asked. "This place is so pretty, too."

"It is nice," Elsa conceded. "I'm glad that you like it. You're free to come here for your morning rides if you want. It's very quiet. I doubt you'd encounter many travelers on the road, especially if you go the way we came."

"I'd prefer to come here with you, Elsa, Morning rides are more enjoyable with company, you know." Anna nudged Roma closer to Hector to meet Elsa's eyes.

"Please consider it," she said. It couldn't be healthy to stare at paperwork indoors all day. Elsa needed to go outside, at least once in a while. "It doesn't have to be daily. Will you think about it?"

"Is it so important to you?" Elsa asked, slightly taken aback. "We didn't always ride together when we were children."

"You started riding less when you were older," Anna said. "And is it so wrong for me to want your company?"

After a moment spent studying the younger woman, and wondering if she could ever really like riding as Anna did, Elsa nodded once. "I'll consider it."

Well, it was better than nothing. "Elsa, when did you start drinking coffee? You don't even like coffee," Anna asked, thoughts turning to the picnic and food.

Elsa didn't answer. She led them to the foot of a large tree and gingerly dismounted. "We don't have to have lunch now, but I cannot stay in the saddle for much longer. If you want, you can take Roma for a run and I'll just sit and watch."

Anna wasn't that hungry, but Elsa needed to eat. "Oh, don't be silly, we'll have lunch now." She secured Hector and Roma's reins to a low-hanging branch and helped Elsa unload the satchel. Inside, they found a large blanket, a bottle of wine, a half of a wrapped cold chicken, cheese, flatbread and assorted pastries and other dishes. There was also a single sleeping roll that they both studiously ignored—Anna would have been delighted at the sight of it, but seduction was the last thing on her mind since she had realized the state of Elsa's health.

Elsa stared at the wine. "Gerda knows very well that I don't drink alcohol," she muttered. "Something special indeed." She wanted to sigh inwardly. The sleeping roll was probably because the housekeeper knew that they had spent the night in separate rooms. Trust Gerda to play matchmaker this way, Elsa thought with a mix of embarrassment and resignation. Which made no sense since they were already married. What did her housekeeper care if the royal couple was enjoying intimate relations or not?

"Well, the grooms did pack water flasks," Anna said, missing Elsa's last comment. Anna unfurled the blanket and laid it out under the shade, placing the cloth edge right next to the tree. Elsa took the cue and eased herself down along the trunk, sighing in relief.

"Thank you," Elsa murmured, ever polite. She felt sore enough to let Anna lay out their lunch. Her lower back was a giant tight knot and her thighs in not much better condition. If she was this sore at present, she would be in even worse shape tomorrow. And Anna wanted to do this more, she sighed inwardly. Elsa knew that she would probably agree to it—Anna had a way of bringing her around to doing things she didn't even want to do.

Sitting crosslegged a decorous distance away, Anna cut heaping amounts of everything aside from the pastries onto a plate and gave it to Elsa. Elsa looked down at her plate in bemusement.

"I can hardly finish all this. Is this your way of telling me I need to eat more?"

It was, but Anna had learned from the previous attempt at showing concern. "You didn't finish your breakfast," Anna said instead. "I thought you'd be hungry after the ride." It couldn't be construed as anything but politely considerate.

"Ah," was all Elsa had to say about her veiled solicitousness. Anna wasn't sure if Elsa believed her, but the queen started eating and went quiet. Anna shed her own jacket in acknowledgement of the warm day and chewed on a bit of flatbread.

"I don't like coffee," Elsa said suddenly, after several minutes of silence. "But I've had enough of it that I feel poorly if I don't drink it now."

"Why did you start drinking it?" Anna asked. She had a feeling she knew why.

"Late nights." Elsa knew she was dancing around the real issue and that her response had implied it was for work, but the coffee had originally been to avoid sleeping and that was a subject she did not want to broach at all. The lack of sleep had meant more hours available to work, but she didn't want to lie to Anna either. Another half-truth was all she could manage. "And I used to drink it with a bit of chocolate at first to tolerate the taste. I've gotten used to having it without that now."

Anna handed Elsa a water flask and tried not to appear too watchful of how much Elsa was eating—she had experienced that with her mother and knew hovering was an irritating habit to endure when it was directed at you. If Anna found it annoying, then Elsa would probably scalp her for it. "So, you drink it out of habit now?"

"Yes. And to avoid splitting headaches." Elsa exhaled slowly and laid her head back against the tree. It really was a beautiful day. The breeze from the fjord had cooled her and her skin was no longer damp with sweat. The sound of air tousling grass and tree leaves was soothing; it was nothing romantic like music, but just a pleasant sound all the same. A reminder that there was another world outside of the castle, away from work and walls.

Anna bit her lip, her eyes on Elsa. Was now a good time? Elsa hadn't enjoyed the ride, she knew, but that was to be expected for any out of practice rider. Elsa did look better sitting down, her shoulders relaxed and hands loose on her lap. She had even shed the riding gloves to eat. Anna imagined the thick leather restricted dexterity unlike Elsa's cloth gloves. Lovely as Elsa's hands were, they were the last thing on Anna's mind.

"Elsa," Anna started to say, her voice quiet. "Can I ask you something?"

Anna sounded serious. The queen opened her eyes and shifted her plate off her lap to the blanket. She blinked a few times, surprised at how at ease she felt. Maybe Anna's opinion on exercise and outdoors had some merit.

"Of course," Elsa said, composing herself. She would have sat up straighter, but her back was still upset with her.

Anna looked down at her hand, fingers plucking at blades of grass nervously. "You promise not to get angry?"

Elsa's brows drew up together. Anna looked apprehensive. "I won't," Elsa promised. She couldn't imagine what Anna wanted to ask. "Provided you're not about to tell me you did something ludicrous and I must go do something about it this very instant. Then I might be somewhat perturbed that we have to rush our return and my back really will kill me if I move right now," she said lightly.

Anna gave her a smile, quick and small, but it disappeared as her face turned serious. "Why… why did you stop writing?"

Elsa's lips parted even as her belly clenched and plummeted. She had not expected that. The silence grew as Elsa tried to come up with a suitable answer, until Anna asked, "Was it because of your parents? I did write you a few times afterward, but you… you never wrote back. And Mother said you might be… busy." Anna chewed at her lip, her eyes darting away. "I'm sorry if I was bothering you. I didn't know what else to do, not when Papa said we could not rush to Arendelle without knowing what you wanted."

Elsa recalled those letters. They were the only ones from Anna that Elsa had read once, then locked away. She had not been able to reply. She had not even been able to speak of the loss, or write about it, even to Anna. Not then, and possibly not now either.

"Anna," Elsa began. The younger woman looked up, expecting refusal. Elsa opened her mouth, then closed it and looked away. The words felt lodged and heavy in her chest, like a boulder. Three years and she still could not do this. Not that she had tried to before, but it still tasted of failure.

"That really isn't...a suitable conversation topic for a day like this," Elsa tried. She didn't know if she was saying that to avoid having to talk about it or if it really was to keep it from casting a shadow on their outing. She breathed out. "Is there a reason why you're asking now?"

"Well, we haven't talked about what's happened before. Before the wedding, I mean," Anna said, eyes still downcast. "And I thought… we should. Elsa, I know you were right that we've changed. But the letters at least would have kept us in contact. And so much has happened since then, like your… your parents." Anna bit her lip again and made herself look at Elsa, trying to find something in her face to confirm that she was right. Elsa didn't look angry or upset, but she did look uncomfortable.

"I want to know, Elsa. You know what chocolates I like, you know how much I like horses, and I feel like I know you in some ways, Elsa, but in other ways, I don't. We know these little things about each other, but I feel like that's not enough." How could it be enough? The depth of how much they did not know each other seemed impossibly deep, like staring down a barren well, trying to find a hidden stream. It gnawed at Anna insistently like an unreachable itch—somehow, she knew Elsa, but she also just… didn't.

Perhaps that was what the courtship was for, but Anna could say with certainty that she had not known Hans and he had courted her so properly it had bordered on boring. Not that Anna had thought of that before, back when she was obviously an untried girl full of grand ideas and knew nothing of the real world. Knew nothing of Elsa, or proper kisses, or real passion. In just a day, Elsa had upended Anna's every expectation without so much as a by your leave—all just by marrying her. A day before and Anna would never have cornered someone up against a wall and invited them into her bed with the confidence of a courtesan, nor would she have actively tried to seduce them. Elsa had remade her, carved her out from a formless shape like an ice sculpture, into something filled with heat and warmth and light. So many feelings that made Anna wish she was a poet.

Anna wondered, at the back of her mind, if she'd also changed Elsa in some way.

Elsa looked away. "The pitfalls of an arranged marriage," she said tonelessly.

"Elsa," Anna sighed. "I don't mean it like that. The only thing I know for sure is that you care about me enough to buy these wedding gifts and you like kissing me. And that you obviously want to have sex with me, but won't. And you promised you'd tell me why," Anna added, as though Elsa may have forgotten.

It was so blunt that Elsa grimaced. "I did promise," she affirmed. She left the sex part unaddressed because Anna obviously did not need more reassurances in that area.

"I'm horribly attracted to you as well," Anna said with a trace of amusement because she did notice what Elsa had left unsaid. "And I care about you, too. I admit that I didn't know what kind of marriage this would be, being married to you. I had… no frame of reference. I don't know anybody, well, any woman who is married to another woman."

Elsa didn't either, but she hardly socialized, so saying she didn't know any married women as well seemed extraneous. She forced her mind away from focusing on Anna's declaration of… caring. God, it sounded so… She refused to finished the thought, not when her attention needed to stay on the current topic at hand. "Your concern is that you don't know what to expect from being married to me, then? Duties notwithstanding?"

"A little bit of that. But it's more that I don't know anything about what you've been up to." Which was why Anna had started upon the letters as a starting point. It felt as though they'd lost each other at that point.

Elsa couldn't help that saber of a smile that flashed, cutting and cold. "Not much if you'll recall."

Anna flinched even as Elsa instantly regretted it. "I'm sorry—"

"No, that was uncalled for," Elsa interrupted. She breathed out. "I can talk about the letters. Not… not about my parents."

Death affected people in different ways; Anna knew that. She'd never experienced that kind of loss, not in the way Elsa had, but she could understand that it wasn't dinner conversation. She would need to be patient. In certain things, pushing forward a step could mean losing a mile of progress. She could not force it out of Elsa because the potential fallout from that… She didn't even know what kind of damage there would be, but she didn't think the trust between them would survive it. Was that all they had? Anna wondered. A tenuous trust, a great deal of passion and caring? Sprinkled in with fond childhood memories that seemed to pale in comparison to four years of silence, loss, and a whirlwind wedding?

If it was, Anna wanted to build upon it. She wanted to make something real out of it with Elsa.

"I'm sorry that I didn't respond to your letters. It wasn't anything you did. I just… couldn't. I didn't know what to say." Elsa looked away, eyes settling on the calm waters of the fjord. Her hands gripped each other, knuckles white, but the air felt cold. Or perhaps it was just her that was cold.

"I felt like that for a long time, so that's why I never resumed our correspondence." How could she have? The last thing said between them was of death. How could she just start writing again and pretend it had never happened? It was like a door had closed between them in that area, one that Elsa could not open. Would not open.

"And if it's any consolation, I haven't spoken to anyone about... that," Elsa said. "This is probably the closest I've come to… speaking of it."

It was a very small consolation for Anna, but only because she knew now that Elsa had bottled up her pain, sealed it away, and moved on. It was in her face, the way Elsa's eyes became shuttered. It could not be healthy, especially to have held it in for so many years and to have endured the loss alone. Anna wished fiercely, with every fiber of her being, that she could have been there for Elsa. Even if she would have been ill-equipped to help her, at least Elsa would not have been alone. Tears abruptly filled Anna's throat, snaking up to the back of her eyes. Anna gave an unceremonious sniff.

Elsa glanced at her, her face turning remorseful when a tear escaped and left a wet trail down Anna's cheek.

"Ah. I'm sorry. I've made you cry," Elsa said awkwardly. Guilt nipped at her. She had made Anna cry. She did not know what she should do and fidgeted, feeling quite useless.

Anna shook her head and scrubbed at her eyes with her sleeve. She was too sensitive to this sort of thing and it was turning her into a weepy female. "It's not your fault, Elsa. I'm sorry, you know how I get."

Elsa fished out a handkerchief, knowing well that Anna never had one because she was always forgetting or losing them. "You won't shed a tear if you take a tumble off your horse, but you will if you see one being born," she said with a faint smile. Anna blew her nose noisily into the handkerchief.

"I wish I'd been there for you," Anna said, her voice shaky from tears.

"It was a long time ago, Anna," Elsa protested.

"But at least you wouldn't have been by yourself!"

"I wasn't entirely alone. I had Gerda."

"Oh, well, I suppose that's something," Anna said, only a little sarcastically. "Not to disparage Gerda, but I wouldn't have thought you'd let her help you."

Elsa smiled slightly. "You'd be surprised." She gazed at Anna and knew words would not be enough. With a slight wince, Elsa rearranged herself against the tree and straightened her legs. Elsa could offer comfort, even if she couldn't accept it. "Come here," Elsa beckoned gently.

Anna went to her immediately, sitting in the open space between her bent legs and curled into Elsa like it was a long-standing habit. Anna's head went into the crook between Elsa's neck and shoulder and her arms looped about Elsa's waist. Elsa wrapped an arm about Anna's shoulders while her other hand rested on the space beside her thigh, fingers twisting at the blanket.

"I'm not sure you'd have been able to help much, Anna, if you'd come," she said softly. "I was… I wasn't entirely…" Whole, Elsa thought. The loss had shattered her into so many pieces. She thought of the empty ballroom covered in ice, how the servants had to break open doors frozen shut because Gerda had been afraid that grief would end the last surviving member of House Arendelle. To say that Elsa had not handled the loss well was a gross understatement.

She had thought if something could be broken, then surely ice could mend it and she could put herself back together again. Or maybe she'd gone in there to freeze time in place, pretend that messenger had never come, and return to that blissfully ignorant week before everything had been taken from her. Foolish notions, both of them, borne of trauma, helplessness and grief. She had been a disappointment to everyone with how she'd hidden away. No, Elsa was glad Anna hadn't been there to witness her breakdown, the way she'd so profoundly fallen apart. She had needed to be dragged out by her own housekeeper, like a mongrel crouched under a table. Mourning was one thing, but what'd she done… Elsa didn't even know what to call it. It'd been unacceptable. That was really the only appropriate word for it. Unacceptable.

Even remembering it made her feel exhausted; it was like digging up an old buried secret. She did not want to think about it, much less speak of it. It was such an old thing, something that could not be changed, and pointless to dwell on. Her lost family still lingered in her thoughts, but she had no wish to think of the way they had died, or of the way she had cracked. It made her burn with shame.

She clenched her first around the blanket again, frost nipping into her skin. She wished she hadn't taken off the gloves.

"Elsa?" Anna drew her back.

"I'm sorry," she said mechanically. "I haven't thought about this in a long time."

"I'm sorry," Anna echoed. "For making you remember it. I miss them, too." Then she sniffed loudly again and made a plucking motion at Elsa's shirt front. It distracted the queen away from her thoughts, that motion; Elsa knew Anna couldn't have done it deliberately. She wrinkled her nose, not wanting to look down to confirm what she suspected. "I hope you're not using my shirt as a handkerchief."

"No," Anna said in that small voice that meant the exact opposite.

Elsa sighed, discreetly wiped her damp hand on her breeches, and fished out another handkerchief. "I usually take two of these when I'm with you," she offered by way of explanation. Anna took it and blew her nose again.

"I forgot mine," Anna said apologetically.

"You always forget yours." Elsa stroked a hand over Anna's hair, trying to keep her attention on something other than memories. Her fingers brushed the blue ribbon, then down the sleek copper hair, letting the strands flow out of her palm.

"You're wearing my ribbon," Elsa murmured.

"You didn't ask for it back," Anna mumbled. Elsa felt solid and alive, Anna thought. The feel of Elsa against her own body was comforting, knowing that she was there. Elsa was still there. Pressed against Elsa, Anna only felt protectiveness and sorrow for the girl who'd suffered alone. She was also even more aware of how Elsa needed to eat more and it hurt to think that Elsa had been so damaged that she couldn't even take care of herself anymore. Well, her job now, Anna thought with resolve.

"I was too busy trying to find yours last night," Elsa replied. She continued to play with the ends of Anna's hair, her voice just starting to drift drowsily. "I did find it this morning, though. Before breakfast."

"Where was it?"

"Under the chessboard. Gerda found it before I did." Elsa felt Anna start and, without thinking, stroked a hand down Anna's back to calm her. "Shh. Gerda gave it back to me. She won't breathe a word about it."

Anna's lids fluttered at the touch, the way Elsa's fingers feathered down her spine. If only Elsa would touch horses so easily, she thought hazily. They'd all love her, too.

"Did she say anything to you?"

Elsa sighed heavily, remembering her earlier defeat. "Yes. I made off with most of my dignity intact. And a bruise." It even twinged a bit as she thought of it, like a battle wound.

"How did you manage that?"

"I was under the table looking for it. Gerda startled me and I cracked my head. Don't laugh at me," Elsa said, sounding very put-upon. "Gerda already did."

Anna managed to stifle the giggle that welled up at the image of Elsa hitting her head under the chessboard while Gerda looked on, but Elsa could feel her body shaking with mirth and sighed again.

"Everybody is enjoying themselves at my expense today," Elsa complained. "Sometimes I wonder if I have any authority at all."

Anna stroked her hand along Elsa's back, much like what the queen had done to her. "You're very much in charge and everybody knows it," she reassured with a smile, cheek pressed to Elsa's shoulder. "A perfect tyrant, remember? With an impressive glare."

Elsa glanced down at copper hair. "An impressive glare?"

"Very. Makes me shake in my boots. Everybody else, too, if they wore boots."

Elsa snorted, but did not comment. It felt good to just talk about innocuous things. She didn't think she could handle much more than that. Her lids felt like lead and her breathing was becoming deeper and more even. She wanted to sleep. Apparently, one good night of rest didn't quite make up for several years' worth of poor ones. When was the last time she had spent a day without working? She couldn't even remember. She felt so drained.

"Anna," Elsa murmured, her mind trying to grasp for the last thing that had been said, but the attempt was like reaching for smoke. "I'm quite tired. I'm sorry, but I might fall asleep." She tried rubbing at her eyes, but it did nothing. She could feel her chin wanting to drop to her chest. She was quite comfortable—Anna's warm weight against her side, the quiet field, the cool shade, all of it was making her want to just drift off.

Anna sat up to examine her. Elsa didn't look like a queen at the moment, not when she was at the edge of sleep. Elsa tried to focus her eyes on Anna, blinking slowly, but Anna could see that they were heavy. "Sleep then, Elsa," Anna whispered.

Elsa frowned and tried to struggle upright. Anna stopped her with a hand to her shoulder—she didn't even need to apply much force—and made Elsa lean back again. "No, we were supposed to go riding and have a picnic. And then…" Elsa trailed off. "Did we plan something else?" Her words were slurring a little, and it made that protective feeling come back again for Anna. Elsa had to be very tired if she couldn't even remember.

Anna shook her head. "No. We've done all that. You're allowed to sleep."

"But you're here. I don't… want to just sleep. You want to do things. Allegedly with me," Elsa said, her voice drifting again. "Can't imagine why. I'm really very boring, you know. Don't know how to… have fun."

Anna frowned at Elsa, but her eyes were closed. "I don't think you're boring," she said, just in case Elsa was still conscious.

Elsa smiled faintly in response. "Mm. Don't molest me in my sleep, please."

Anna released a surprised laugh. Elsa could still remember certain things, evidently. "No, I'd prefer if you were awake for that," she teased.

Elsa didn't reply, finally surrendering herself.

Anna watched her for a long time. Elsa's face was smooth and relaxed in sleep. It was the first time Anna had seen Elsa sleep in years and she looked so human. Not a queen or a ruler. Just a woman in repose on a sunny day under a tree. Anna had to smile—she had expected to see her spouse's sleeping face for the first time in the morning after their wedding night in bed. Instead, Elsa had fallen asleep underneath her outside in the afternoon. They were doing everything backwards and out of order.

Or maybe it was just right for them. Anna reached for her jacket and draped it over Elsa. Elsa stirred briefly, then settled again, like a child. Anna couldn't resist; she bent down and brushed a kiss over blonde hair and remembered the bruise Elsa had suffered for her ribbon. The tale still made her grin. Poor Elsa, she thought fondly. Well, it was a good thing Elsa had plenty of dignity if it was getting assailed so much.

Then she went to where Hector was grazing and stroked her hand over his nose. "Let's take you out for a run," she said. "Would you like that?"

He nudged at her palm and nickered. "Yes, I bet you would," Anna murmured. "Thank you for not letting Elsa fall off. I know it couldn't have been pleasant with the way she sat on you like a sack of potatoes." Not that she'd ever tell Elsa that, but she still felt she needed to apologize to Hector on the queen's behalf. She doubted he had encountered a worse rider before given his fine pedigree and the renowned stables he had been bought from.

"Elsa will get better," Anna promised. "I'll have her ride Roma next, so you won't have to put up with it very much." She untied his reins and nudged him into a canter to go explore the field and surrounding woods.

—-

It was late afternoon when Elsa opened her eyes. She found herself on her side, the picnic blanket beneath her. As Elsa sat up, she saw that she'd been using her own rolled jacket up jacket as a pillow and Anna's burgundy one as a cover.

Elsa rubbed at her eyes. God. She'd fallen asleep, and for several hours it appeared. She looked out to the fjord and saw Hector drinking by the edge and riderless. Roma was conspicuously missing, as was Anna. Elsa stood and stretched, wincing as her back and legs protested. The picnic food had been packed away, but Anna had thoughtfully left a water flask behind and Elsa drained it in her thirst. As she was twisting it shut, she heard the sound of galloping hooves and looked to the source.

There Anna was, astride Roma's back as they flew down the field. Elsa could see every detail perfectly: Anna was off the saddle, knees bent and leaning forward, reins loose in her hands. Her white shirt pulled taut over her front against the wind, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, showing toned forearms. Her form, as far as Elsa could tell, was perfect. Copper whipped behind her like a flag laced in blue.

Elsa had been right. In the afternoon sun, Roma's coat turned into that heartbreakingly beautiful molten copper, exactly like Anna's. It shimmered in the sun as they moved, the mare's legs a blur as Anna urged her on. If it was possible, Anna had grown even more beautiful—this was the first Elsa had seen her on the back of a galloping horse in years. They moved together, horse and rider, as though they weren't even separate beings anymore.

Grace and glory, was all Elsa could think, her eyes transfixed by the sight. Anna had always evoked that feeling of witnessing something so special whenever Elsa watched her ride. The expression of pure joy that always appeared on Anna's face when she found a rhythm with a horse, when a horse did something just right as she'd taught, only added to it. Elsa could see that expression now, and felt privileged.

Then Anna saw her and that pure joy turned into something else that Elsa couldn't decipher, but it made her heart skip a beat. Elsa waved to her. Anna slowed Roma into a trot and stopped before the queen.

"You're awake," Anna said, smiling. Her hair was windblown and Elsa wanted to pull Anna down and smooth it down with her fingers. Her bare hands twitched.

"I am," Elsa said, smiling back. She should have felt guilty for sleeping the day away, but she'd seen Anna ride and could only feel happy.

"Was it good?" Anna asked.

She nodded. "It was." It had been a deep, dreamless sleep. Her mind felt clear, though that could have been from watching Anna as well. Elsa didn't care—she felt good all the same and those kinds of feelings were rare for her.

Anna dismounted and went to Elsa, reins in hand. Roma wasn't even winded. Anna was pleased that the mare was as fit and well-kept as she looked. Her gait was smooth, the kind that made a rider feel as though they were floating over the ground.

When they were within reach, Elsa reached up to brush Anna's fringe back from her eyes.

"What were you up to while I was unconscious?" Elsa asked. Her hand was already drifting uncertainly to the top of Anna's head, wondering if Anna would permit it.

"Just exploring the area," Anna said. She submitted willingly to Elsa's impromptu grooming. It felt nostalgic—another thing they'd done when they were younger. Elsa had tidied her up when she wasn't presentable even to the most loving of parents after a day spent in the saddle.

"Did you find anything of interest?" Elsa asked as she tucked a loose strand behind Anna's ear. It had gotten pulled out of the ribbon, which was why Anna preferred braids, but Elsa did like her hair unplaited.

"The farmhouse you mentioned, and some trails. They don't look used very much, but shouldn't be difficult to travel."

"Mm. I can look for a map of the area. Are you already planning morning rides for me?" Elsa answered, distracted. A stubborn lock curled over her fingers and she patiently smoothed it down again. "There. From ruffian to royalty again."

Anna grinned and looked up. Elsa did look well rested. "Maybe. I want to be prepared, as you like to say. Both Hector and Roma are very good horses, by the way."

"You think all horses are good horses. Quite democratic of you," Elsa replied drily.

Anna laughed at that. "I am indiscriminate about it, aren't I? But I just meant they're well cared for." Anna began to walk to the fjord to water Roma and Elsa fell into step beside her. Hector grazed as Roma began to drink, a comfortable silence falling while they gazed out at the sparkling water.

The city was still visible in the distance downstream, the soaring turrets of the castle arching high above the battlements. Two flags waved gently in the wind at the highest tower. Anna recognized the the topmost flag as Elsa's royal standard, the crocus upon a violet and green background, but not the one below. Emblazoned upon a green field was a pair of facing golden horses with a crocus between their rearing hooves. Anna recognized the horses from her father's royal standard of Corona.

"Your new standard," Elsa said, as though she had read Anna's thoughts. "The flags are there to mean we are in residence, of course."

Anna turned to stare at Elsa. She knew that when members of royalty were wed, new seals would be made, but it had never occurred to her that she would get her own.

"I hope you like it," Elsa said, looking back at the castle. "You're part of House Arendelle, now."

She was Elsa's family now. Anna took Elsa's ungloved hand in hers, their fingers interlaced, stepping closing until they were shoulder to shoulder. Elsa looked backed at her in surprise.

"I love it," Anna told her with a smile, and they stood together like that for a time, eyes on their home.