Note: I really want to thank everyone for all the kind reviews! I had no idea starting out that this story would go anywhere, but -surprise- it seems well-received & I'm glad you are enjoying it!

I do want to apologize for what I see as a complete shift in writing style; what can I say, I'm experiencing some writer's schizophrenia and I just can't decide how I want to do this.

Please bear with me, and let me know if you like this densely-comma'd, run-on sentence-ish, convoluted, stream-of-consciousness-y stuff… or if it sucks.

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It's funny how I feel more myself with you

Than anybody else that I ever knew

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As Elsa fastened the navy blue cloak around her shoulders, she wondered if the night was cool enough to warrant it. She could think of no simpler way to disguise herself, and Peter was being so insistent that they leave the castle, and of course she wasn't arguing, because, really, this is exactly what she wanted.

What would Anna think?

What would my parents think? She felt something painful turn over in her stomach, and doubted herself for a moment.

But then she checked the mirror once more, to make sure her distinctive hair was tucked beneath the hood, and left the dressing room.

() () ()

Peter waited near the magnolia tree, her magnolia tree, and felt almost giddy. What would they do? Where would they go? If I were stuck in the castle every day, where would I most want to visit?

The most prominent thought in his mind was she said yes; she agreed to come with me, even though there were papers to sign and visits to arrange and documents to write up.

And there was don't screw this up, Peter.

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And then she was leading him down through the gardens, and out a stone hallway and down some steps and suddenly, immediately, there was the strong salty breeze blowing in off the fjord, and the docks were right there, and he wondered how she knew this secret way out of the castle, but only for a second, because, of course, she probably knew everything about the castle.

And he could have sworn he saw a mischievous glint in her eye as she leaned in and asked, "What do you want to do now?"

And he thought, when was the last time she snuck out like this? But he knew, with almost certainty, she had never done it before.

And he swallowed, and gulped, because he wanted nothing more than to grab her arms and pull her to him and hold her, there, just like that, for long enough that his brothers would give up searching for him and return home alone.

But instead, he said, "I was thinking we could … walk."

Elsa gave him a small smile. "I like to walk."

And she surprised him by offering her arm, which he settled against his bicep. And they walked.

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"I, um, I—I am leaving tomorrow," he said after what seemed like an hour of walking. The sun had set and it was twilight and the lights from the houses spilled out onto the streets and there was music floating around and he wondered is Arendelle always like this, because this is so much more alive than the Southern Isles, and then there was the breathtaking pale perfect queen on his arm, and he thought again how small she was.

"Yes… I know."

"Of-of course you know. I mean—what I mean to say is, well, what I want you to understand is, that, well… I don't want to go." He stopped walking and turned to face her. He took a deep breath. She had turned to look at him also, and he could only see one piece of light hair peeking out from under her hood, but what he could see clearly were her eyes, and in them he saw wonder and fear and comfort and kindness and so, so much love.

"Peter… I think they would notice if one of their princes did not return home." She said it with a small smile, and her eyes trailed down to the collar of his shirt, and then over to the empty square surrounded by houses and shops. They had stopped right on the edge.

"Yes. They would. Unfortunately."

She looked back at his eyes, and then she was pulling him toward the center of the square. There was a fountain bubbling and she sat down on the low wall around it.

"I, um, I have never been outside the castle… with… a man, before." The words came out quickly and yet he could tell she was having difficulty stringing them together. Her gaze was fixated on the clasp of her cloak, and her hands were fiddling with it. If he didn't know her, he would guess she was uncomfortable, but he suspected she was merely trying to organize her thoughts.

She is a queen, after all.

"I'm sorry, I didn't even think—do you want to have one of your guards, we can go ba—" he started, attempting to backtrack and make up for the wrong he had accidentally committed. But she cut him off with a shake of her head and a hand on his shoulder, and he realized she just touched me, and it wasn't because I grabbed her hand or because I asked her permission – she just willingly and knowingly touched me for the first time, and he almost stopped breathing, but not before he thought he could die a happy man.

"Absolutely not, Peter. I know I'm safe with you."

And it was true.

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On that fountain, in that square, a mile from the castle, beneath the stars, the queen and the prince talked for hours.

There were moments when Elsa thought we should really go back, it's late, what will everyone think, I am the queen, and yet she also thought he will be gone tomorrow, I enjoy talking with him, this is all so new, I am the queen. She surprised him with her knowledge of astronomy. He surprised her with his interest in Homer's writings.

But the night is only so long, and Peter began to yawn more frequently as their conversation continued on. He probably sleeps like a normal person, instead of spending the nights awake worrying, she realized, and felt bad for keeping him up so long. It hadn't occurred to her that any normal person would be exhausted by then.

Then she frowned, because of course I'm not normal. And also why am I letting this go on? He will have to realize soon that this was a mistake, and I'm a curse.

And her frown traveled up her face to her eyes, which she tore away from his face.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, now confused. He had been explaining the types of fish he caught most often, and she seemed interested, and then she was gone. She was staring at the ground, and her breathing quickened, and he could see her face pulled into a frown, the most beautiful frown I have ever seen.

"I, um, I guess we should be returning to the castle. It is very late." She said it quietly. She said it in her formal, controlled, regal voice. He took it to mean Peter, this is all over. I'm finished with the honesty, and the openness, and the comfort we had.

He felt it like a punch in his stomach.

He grabbed her hands. She did not look up.

"Elsa. Please don't do this. I am having the best night of my life. We can go back-of course we can-but I don't want to lose this." And he motioned between the two of them, and he thought, what does that even mean, and he wondered if she understood.

She nodded, "I know. I know I'm being… I'm being ridiculous. I just… Peter, I don't know how… this is all so…" she trailed off, knowing she sounded nothing like a queen. Absolutely nothing like a queen. And she probably looked nothing like a queen, hiding underneath a cloak like some ill-plotted disguise. A queen who had snuck out of her castle, with a prince. It all sounded so terrifyingly dishonest. She looked up at him, begging him to hear what she could find no way to say.

He couldn't hold it in; he had to try and make her understand. "Perfect? Wonderful? This is everything I never expected, Elsa, all rolled up into the best I could have ever hoped." He released her hands, which he had probably been gripping too tightly, and he cupped her cheeks. Her eyes widened at the proximity of his face to hers. He softly trailed his thumbs across her cheeks and pulled her closer to him.

"I don't know what to do, Peter." She whispered it, eyes still wide, and she closed the distance between them to rest her head against his collarbone. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, the soft fabric of her cloak cooling his fingers.

She trembled slightly, and he tightened his grip. This was how they sat, for long eternal moments until the steady trickling of the fountain brought them back. She pulled away, wiping her eyes even though they appeared dry.

"I'm sorry," she said automatically.

He grinned at her, noticing her hood had slipped down. Her hair reflected the moonlight and the firelight from the surrounding houses.

"I'm not."

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And then they had walked back, her hand nestled in his elbow, and it seemed to take much longer this time, but maybe, just maybe, it was on purpose.

And they had entered the gardens through the stone passageway, and tiptoed through the hallways, and climbed up to her tower, and reached her door.

But then they stopped.

She let go of his arm and placed a hand on her doorknob, but turned her face back to him.

"Thank you for taking me out. I mean, of the castle. Thank you for helping me… get away."

"No, really – I mean – I hope you – um, you're welcome."

Moments.

"Um… it really is… a shame, that you are leaving tomorrow. I mean today." she offered, absentmindedly pulling a strand of hair back behind her ear.

He nodded. This is maddening. He took a step forward, now inches from her face, and she has more freckles than I realized, and they are perfect, and her eyes are wide again, and he raises his eyebrows as if asking the question, but then he really doesn't wait for her to answer, because he has leaned in and placed a hand beneath her chin, and tilted it upwards, and now he's kissing her.

And god, her lips are so soft and so cold and this must be what love feels like, because I can't remember where I am but I know there is an angel right in front of me.

And is this really happening, because I'm the queen and I can't believe I am kissing someone in the hallway, and oh my god I just grabbed his collar with both hands and please don't let him pull away because his lips are so warm and I think I might pass out.

And he doesn't even try to deepen the kiss, because how could this be any better, how could she be any better, and I might explode.

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