There was an old Arendellan lullaby that warned children to stay away from the water. It spoke of monsters that lived there, monsters that liked to spirit away children and drown them, or worse. Though what was worse was never told, leaving it up to overactive imaginations.

But Elsa was never afraid of the water. Instead she was drawn to it, as inexorable as the flow of the river to the sea. It was beautiful, and calming. With water came life, and water was the basis of ice and all the other things that Elsa enjoyed. She became a very good swimmer and if she sometimes saw eyes watching her she thought it was merely her imagination.

The fascination followed her into adulthood, and even as monarch she loved the water. Water in all its forms, ice, or snow, or rain, she loved it anyway. Her sister would often find her dancing in puddles; and immediately join her, much to the consternation of her stewards and aides, and the tittering of the rest of the staff. Two grown adults playing in the rain; Elsa couldn't imagine a life without Anna.

There was another habit Elsa picked up, and a much more dangerous one at that; to sneak out into the kingdom proper. She liked to get to know her people, and talk to them as one of them. Living apart was no way to rule a kingdom and she would often discover problems that she could fix, but no one had bothered to tell her about.

It was raining on one such journey, as she took a detour over a little stone bridge on one part of the fjord. She heard a splashing sound, something too big to be a fish, and peered into the water, but the ripples had already washed away.

She almost missed the folded cloak on a rock on the shore and out of curiosity she walked down to inspect it. It was a dark blue pelt, soft and smooth, and she lifted it up and turned it over in her hands. Marveling at the softness, she brought it up to her face and nuzzled it.

The splashing returned and this time Elsa spied the cause of it.

A woman rose out of the water, brown skin glistening in the light of the full moon. She was nude, with dark hair that fell in waves down her back. Her eyes, nearly the same dark brown as her hair, were locked onto the pelt in Elsa's hands.

It took Elsa a few moments of being stunned to realize what she was seeing; the woman was very beautiful and stirred both Elsa's heart and her body. But she looked down at the pelt, then at the woman, and suddenly understood. Slowly, she held out one of her hands palm up and called out, "Please, come here, I won't hurt you."

The woman stepped closer, stopping a foot or two away. She rubbed a hand up her own arm, staring at Elsa with curiosity and something a little warmer. But Elsa held the pelt out, smiling reassuringly, "You should hide this better. Not everyone would be so kind as to return it."

She took the pelt, looking down at it, then at Elsa, before pulling it over herself. Elsa couldn't tell what actually happened or even how it had happened, but one moment the woman was standing there and the next a seal had dove into the water.

"I should have asked her name," She said to herself, fanning her face.

After she snuck back into the castle and changed into her night dress, Elsa sat down at her desk and tried to sketch the selkie from memory. The eyes were easy, as they were seared into memory, but so was the rest of her. She looked down at the sketch, at the curves her pencil had produced, the woman and the seal she'd drawn next to her. Elsa wished she'd held on to the pelt a few moments longer, just to get her name, or even hear her voice but that felt wrong. Like a violation.

"Hello."

Elsa whipped around at the sound of a voice, but her own cry of alarm died on her lips. The selkie was standing in her bedroom, lantern-light dancing on her skin. Her voice was every bit as beautiful as Elsa had imagined.

"Hello." She smiled, mostly to reassure herself, "You startled me."

"I didn't mean to."

"Did you hide it well?" Elsa got to her feet, though she didn't approach the selkie, who didn't seem all that wet though her hair was still damp. A part of Elsa hoped this might be more than a one -time visit and she started planning how to make sure the selkie had dry clothing for when she was on land. Not that she minded the view, but it would raise questions if she was seen. If someone with unkind ambitions, such as the prince who'd tried to steal Anna away, got their hands on her cloak...

"I did. You were very kind." She stepped closer, walking until they were nearly chest to chest, looking up at her with a sly, appraising smile.

Elsa's throat bobbed and she hastily blurted, "Would you like to wear something? I can get you a cloak, or something. You really shouldn't walk around like this, people might see and though most of my people are kind there are those who-"

The selkie's body was warm as she pressed into her, molded to fit Elsa's in a way she didn't know was possible. Her lips tasted like the berries that she and Anna had picked as children, but childhood was the furthest thing from her mind. It was like the kiss had unlocked something ravenous and needy inside her and the ferocity of it was almost frightening. Her hands roamed across smooth skin as she pushed the selkie towards her bed. The selkie responded in kind, tearing at Elsa's nightdress until it fell in tatters from her body.

They crawled into bed, bodies moving together, writhing skin to skin. Elsa whimpered into the selkie's mouth, overwhelmed by the feel of her and the heat of the moment. A moment that stretched on, with hands and hungry mouths until Elsa felt like she was dying, again and again and again, experiencing all those little deaths she read about in the French books. Ripples and waves, cresting over and drowning her. Again. Again. Again.

Wrapped in a warm embrace, Elsa floated. Gentle fingers stroked through her hair, her own hands tracing patterns in the selkie's hip, Elsa couldn't imagine why she'd ever want to move. It felt like she'd been drawn into one of Anna's fairy tales, and yet she wouldn't change a thing.

Tipping her head up, she gazed into golden brown eyes. "You're so beautiful. What's your name?"

Hesitation. Uncertainty in the selkie's eyes, and Elsa was quick to reassure her again, "You don't have to tell me. I'd understand. Names have power."

"Honeymaren," She said. "My name is Honeymaren."

As beautiful as the person it belonged to. Elsa smiled broadly. It was only fair, a name for a name, "I'm Elsa."

"Elsa," Honeymaren said, her tongue rolling over the letters curiously. And then she leaned in and her tongue became preoccupied with many other things.

Honeymaren would be gone by the morning, but over the next few weeks Elsa would find little presents left for her. A seashell in her path, river flowers on her pillow, even a fish, once. Elsa appreciated the gesture but that one was going a little too far. It became increasingly difficult to hide the gifts and she didn't quite have the words to explain to Anna what was happening. In part, she wanted to keep this to herself a little while longer.

The presents were wonderful, but what Elsa most wanted was Honeymaren, asleep in her bed, or sitting across from her while they talked, or dancing with her, or singing with her, or just…

There were stories of men who'd taken selkies for wives. They were common in some other nations and Elsa had heard a few of the stories from both travelers and visiting dignitaries. The Scottish, it seemed, rather liked that she enjoyed their taleweaving. It made for good diplomacy.

In most of these stories, the fishermen would hide the pelt, forever trapping their wife with them. There were a few where the selkie got one over on the mane, and fewer still where the fisherman was kind and did not trap the selkie.

The very thought of stealing a selkie's pelt angered Elsa. She wanted Honeymaren to come back to her, but of her own free will.

Hoping that the selkie's gifts were a hint, she started to leave little presents of her own. Shiny stones, jewelry and yes, fish. And almost every night, she'd wander along the river, or up and down the coast of the fjord and sing. Once, Anna asked her what was wrong, and all Elsa could tell her was, "I'm waiting for something. I'll tell you when I find it."

Anna had accepted the answer then, but for how much longer Elsa couldn't know. For now, she really did want to keep Honeymaren a secret, just for herself. There were, after all, very few things she got to keep to herself, and she was afraid someone might try to harm the selkie.

Honeymaren finally came to her, one night, a few weeks later. Again her pelt was hidden, though Elsa didn't even have a thought of searching for it. She welcomed Honeymaren with open arms and sweet kisses, cupping her face and memorizing the light in her eyes. They made love on the shore beneath a crescent moon and like the first time, Honeymaren was gone by morning. Unlike the first time, Elsa was able to talk to her until the twilight hours and she was awake to watch her disappear into the sea.

Three more times Honeymaren would come to her. Three more nights; one two weeks after the shore, the next a week later, and the third...

On the third, Elsa held her in her arms as the sun peeked over the eastern mountains. Her heart was in her throat and she had the sensation that if she did not take the risk she would never see her again. "Would you stay with me? I won't keep your pelt, and you'd be free to leave any time. I swear on my kingdom. But would you stay?"

She thought about the warning in that old lullaby, of monsters that lured one into the sea to drown them. Maybe it hadn't been meant to be literal because she had been drowned so thoroughly that she thought she might never see the surface again.

Honeymaren smiled at her, stole a kiss, and stood, "Wait here."

Nervously, Elsa watched her as she walked away, far off down the beach and until she was no longer out of sight. That wasn't exactly the answer that she'd been hoping for.

What had she been hoping for? Yes, I'll stay. Yes, I'll marry you. Elsa didn't want Honeymaren to give up the water, to give up who and what she was. But she wanted her in her life. Even if she might disappear for weeks on end, as long as she came back, Elsa could live with that.

The water was so deep that Elsa knew no other woman would be able to pull her out, let alone any man. Elsa would wait until nightfall, and perhaps a few hours after that. If Honeymaren did not return by then, she would not return at all and Elsa would have to accept a life of solitude.

The sun had nearly reached its zenith before Elsa saw a seal bounce out of the water. And then, in as quick as a blink of the eye the seal transformed into Honeymaren, holding her pelt.

She knelt in front of Elsa, and placed the pelt into her lap.

"Mare, baby, I don't want to trap you." Elsa started to push the pelt back, but Honeymaren was stronger than she looked, and didn't let her.

"I'll stay." Honeymaren's voice was firm in a way that brokered no argument. All along this had been Honeymaren's choice and Elsa had simply come along for the ride.

"Okay." Elsa's throat bobbed and she hugged the pelt to her chest, "But we'll put this someplace safe, where only you can have a key. You can come and go as you please. But my bed … and my heart are yours."

It was bold, sister-trying-to-marry-a-man-she-just-met levels of not thinking things through, but she didn't care.

"I trust you." Honeymaren crawled into Elsa's lap and kissed her deeply, "You have a good heart and a good soul."

Elsa would have to figure out a story. Anna would be told the truth, but for everyone else, Honeymaren would simply be the woman their Queen loved. No more, no less. "I need to introduce you to my sister…"

"Later." Maren carefully took the pelt and set it aside, before pushing Elsa down, "I want to celebrate now."

Elsa laughed, "Who am I to deny you that?"

"Hush," Maren brushed her lips lightly over Elsa's. "I trust you."

Elsa read between the lines as she looped her arms around the selkie, "I love you too."