A/N: Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed and please don't forget to tip your writers on the way out!


Elsa sat longways on the carriage bench, feet up and knees tented, balancing paperwork on her thighs like a makeshift desk. She'd given up on sitting "properly" after the first six hours. The carriage was comfortable enough without being lavish or ostentatious. The seats were soft, covered in a deep purple velvet and just long enough to stretch out.

Having spent the last thirteen years almost strictly confined to a single space, she made sure to bring enough work along so not to get bored, but she'd grossly underestimated how uncomfortable being confined in so small a space for an extended period would be.

A box filled with items she brought to work on sat on the floor next to her. She pulled a stack of folded papers bound by a length of twine—missives and letters from other kingdoms that she hadn't had the chance to read before now. She couldn't write any responses in the rocking carriage, but she could at least read through and organize the letters by priority. Later, when they reached Valle, she could draw up responses.

On the cushioned bench across from her, Anna reclined in a similar position, leaning against the side of the carriage. Every few minutes, a soft snore broke the otherwise peaceful quiet. Despite the early hour of their departure, the younger woman had been a ball of energy as they settled into the carriage; her excitement had lasted most of the first day. The sisters spent the hours talking about things they hadn't been able to over the last three months. For the most part they kept things light, including the full story of why Elsa owed Kristoff a brand-new sled, plus supplies. Considering the cost, she probably should have asked sooner, but they were finally together again for the first time in thirteen years; her sister could have requested the moon and Elsa would have done everything in her power it give it to her. She still would.

By the time they reached Lauvdal, the halfway point between Arendelle and Valle, Anna's excitement had worn down to restlessness. The Lord of Lauvdal had been ecstatic to receive them, though Elsa was sure it disappointed him they'd be leaving again before first light. It had left little time in town, but enough for Anna to explore the town—much to her guard's dismay—and for them both to eat a hot meal and get a decent night's sleep.

Once they were back on the road to Valle, Anna's excitement had been less palpable, a more quiet, but still enthusiastic energy. Though she still fidgeted restlessly, she was uncharacteristically silent watching the lush scenery pass outside the carriage as they moved into less populated areas of the kingdom. It was sometime before noon when she drifted off, head bobbing on her neck as she fruitlessly fought against the cozy warmth of the carriage and the enticing pull of sleep.

As Elsa watched as Anna shifted in her sleep, the blanket she'd wrapped around herself slipped to her lap. Elsa smiled and reached over to pull the blanket back up to her sister's shoulders, tucking her in. She continued to watch as Anna settled under the blanket with a contented sigh, then pulled apart the twine on the stack of letters and got down to work while she could.


A dog was licking her nose. At least, that's what it felt like as Anna woke from her nap. She'd made it as long as she could, excited to spend some quality time with her sister and see parts of the kingdom she hadn't visited in years. But between Elsa's stubborn desire to complete as much paperwork as possible during the trip and the generous lunch packed for them by the kitchen staff at Lauvdal, she hadn't stood a chance, quickly lulled to sleep by the gentle rocking of the carriage.

She untangled an arm from beneath the cozy wool blanket and dragged a clumsy hand across her face. There was a cold wetness there, melting as it touched her nose and cheeks, running to her chin in skinny rivulets. So, not a dog, obviously. Anna worked her eyes open and frowned. It was snowing. Inside the carriage. She pushed herself upright from where she'd tipped against the side, swiping more snowflakes from her face as she glanced over to her sister in the opposite seat.

Elsa hadn't seemed to notice Anna was awake, staring with a faraway look at a piece of parchment in hand, her mouth twisted in thought. Anna had seen this look before, and she didn't need the light flurry of snowflakes floating around her head to confirm; something in the letter had upset her.

"Elsa?" When Anna got no response, she frowned and straightened on the bench seat. The blanket pooled on her lap as she leaned forward. "Elsa," she said again, louder.

Elsa's gaze snapped up. Her eyes cleared as she noticed the flurry drifting around her. "Oh," she said, cheeks red, "sorry." With a flick of her wrist, the snowflakes vanished and the temperature in the carriage rose back to normal.

"You okay?" Anna craned her neck in a futile attempt to glimpse the small writing on the note her sister was holding.

"Fine," Elsa responded, so quietly Anna almost missed it entirely.

"Uh-huh." Anna nodded. "So, you normally make flurries when you're fine and happy?"

"Yes, actually" her sister replied, gaze drifting back down to the paper in her hand. "I did. When I was younger."

Anna gaped. "What?"

Elsa folded the paper and sat up straighter, offered her sister a weak smile. "Fear and anger weren't the only emotions that would bring my power out. My magic and my emotions are, it seems, unfortunately bound to one another. So, happiness, excitement, joy . . . they used to cause my magic to manifest just as much as any negative emotion."

She knew fear and anger caused Elsa's magic to manifest, sometimes in unexpected ways, but she'd never considered positive emotions like joy or happiness would do the same. She frowned as her sister's choice of words sank in. "Used to?" she asked carefully, knowing that her best intentions weren't always enough to overtake Elsa's closed-off nature and thirteen years of isolation. Elsa might no longer hide her powers, but she was still hesitant to use them, with few exceptions, like the ice-skating rink in the courtyard roughly two months after she'd thawed Arendelle. Something that had taken some encouragement on Anna's part.

A month after the coronation and thawing of Arendelle, Anna convinced her sister to allow her to plan a celebration for the people, for the opening of the gates and reconnection of Arendelle to the world, for the ascension of their new queen, and for the great thaw.

Elsa had been open to the idea of a festival to celebrate the open gates, but hesitant to bring attention to herself or—as people called it, much to her mortification—The Queen's Winter. In the end, they compromised. They would celebrate the open gates of Arendelle and the end of winter, along with Anna and Kristoff's actions that had led to the end of that unseasonal blizzard. Understandably, Kristoff wasn't happy about being dragged into the spotlight, but worried that if he said no to the queen of Arendelle, he'd end up as a frozen lawn ornament.

Elsa had been concerned that any display of her powers would only further scare their people, but Anna knew that showing the people of Arendelle that her sister's magic was as beautiful as its wielder would go a long way toward their acceptance of a magical Queen. Anna couldn't have been more right; the celebration had gone off without a hitch, the day better than she had hoped for. More importantly, great strides were made in helping her sister feel accepted.

Elsa tapped the folded piece of paper against her knee, looking lost in thought as she stared out the carriage window. "Father helped me learn to conceal everything. Not just negative emotions, but positive ones, too. Truthfully, it wasn't nearly as difficult."

Anna stiffened, her gaze narrowing. "You're saying Mama and Papa wouldn't let you feel anything?" Her chest tightened, frustration with her parents rising. She loved them dearly and cherished every memory, but couldn't help feeling angry about the lasting damaged they had caused.

Elsa brought her hands together against her stomach, trapping the parchment there. "No, Anna. They didn't stop me from feeling. They just . . . taught me how to keep an emotion from getting the better of me. My contact with anyone aside from them was carefully controlled, to avoid any outbursts. Or accidents."

"Well, we saw how well that worked out," Anna muttered.

Elsa frowned. "Anna—"

"Oh, come on, Elsa," she cut her sister off, her frustration bubbling over. "I'm pretty sure they couldn't have handled the whole thing worse if they tried."

"Anna," Elsa reprimanded with a single word. "They did the best they could. It wasn't easy for them, either."

Anna folded her arms over her chest and flopped against the seatback. She wasn't sure she agreed, but didn't want to argue any further about something neither of them could change. She turned to the window and spent a few quiet moments watching the scenery pass. Then she remembered what had started the conversation and looked back to Elsa. Her sister was wonderful at deflecting attention to where she wanted it. It was part of what made Elsa a formidable politician, but Anna wasn't going to let her off the original train of thought, not this time. "So, you wanna tell me what's wrong?"

"What?" Elsa's brows drew together in confusion.

Anna pointed to the letter. "Your snow flurries woke me up, and I've seen that look before. It was definitely not the look of someone who is fine and happy."

Elsa dropped her gaze to the letter, her lips pressed into a thin line. She shook her head. "It's nothing for you to worry about."

Anna frowned. "You're keeping secrets. Even after you promised."

Her sister sighed. "Anna, as cliché as it sounds, I am the queen, and even my secrets have secrets."

"Not from me."

"Yes, even from you."

Anna leaned back against her seat, feeling hurt and shut out by her sister's admission. "I thought I was more important than that."

Elsa sighed, her shoulders dropping. "Anna, it's not that you aren't important to me. You are the most important thing to me."

"You just don't trust me."

Elsa's jaw dropped, her mouth falling open in what would, under different circumstances, be a comical display for someone normally so poised. "Not trust you?" She swiveled on the bench and leaned across the small space, taking her sister's hands into her cold ones. "Anna, you are my sister and best friend. There is no one in the world I trust more. If I have made you feel otherwise, I am sorry. My intent has always been to protect you, not make you feel unimportant."

"You don't have to protect me, you know."

Elsa smiled warmly. "I'm your sister. If I could, I would protect you from anything and everything." She released her sister's hands and sat back on the bench. She retrieved up the letter she'd dropped and held it out to Anna. "But if it means that much to you, here."

Anna hesitated in taking the letter, but once she did, she quickly unfolded the paper, eager to see what had unsettled her sister so much.

While the letter seemed cold and not overly friendly, it wasn't something that should have caused the reaction Anna had seen when she woke. She looked up at Elsa with a question clear in her eyes.

Elsa smiled tightly as she took the letter back. "They address the letter to the Snow Queen, rather than to Arendelle, or Queen Elsa."

"And that's bad?"

Her sister dipped her chin. "Using the nickname Snow Queen tells me they are not writing to me as a leader, but as someone with the ability to lock down an entire kingdom in an eternal winter. They are addressing me as a threat who happens to be a queen rather than the Queen of Arendelle. They meant it as a slight. And a threat."

Anna blinked. "You got all that from the first two words?"

"Consider this a lesson in politics." Elsa studied the letter as she spoke. "Leaders rarely make outright threats against one another. Instead, everything is subtle, flowery words meant to hide sharp thorns, though you always know what lies just beneath the petals."

Anna raised a hand to her temple, sagging in her seat. "No wonder you always looked stressed. That sounds exhausting. Why doesn't everyone just speak, you know, plainly?"

Elsa laughed, though it didn't reach her eyes. "That would be lovely. But this is how the game is played. Veiled threats behind a charming smile. Political maneuvering, manipulation, blackmail, moves and countermoves. This is the life we were born into, and it's something which I hope to spare you from as much and as long as I can."


By the time the carriage rolled through the gates of Valle's estate, the mood inside had lightened considerably. Elsa had allowed Anna to help sort through the remaining letters and answered any questions her younger sister had. Relief surged through her as the carriage pulled to a stop; as much as Elsa had enjoyed nearly two days of uninterrupted quality time with Anna, she was just as happy for the opportunity to escape the claustrophobic space and stretch her legs.

This was the first time she was traveling as the queen, but she was fully aware of the fanfare involved in receiving a monarch. She was not a fan of the extravagant ceremony of it all and had always hated being the center of attention, but as Queen she understood it was an uncomfortable awkwardness she would always have to bear.

Baron Oskar and his wife Adelaida had greeted them, flanked by two diagonal rows of smartly dressed people who lined either side of the arched stone doorway. Before leaving Arendelle, Elsa had done some reading up on the customs and courtesy of the noble caste. She wasn't necessarily ignorant to them, but her lack of travel experience left the information in her mind dusty and second-hand, and she'd felt the need for a refresher. She knew that the row of people on the right of the door was the household staff, with their butler at the head of the line. The shorter line on the left consisted of the Baron's relatives; she guessed his two daughters and youngest son.

After the brief introductions, she and Anna were shown to the guest rooms and given time to settle in, bathe, and change into proper attire before dinner.

Alone in her spacious guest quarters, Elsa tightened her hands into fists, then loosened them with a slow exhale. Dinner began service in only a few minutes. She preferred to arrive to the table early, but it was something her father had cautioned her against as she grew older and closer to the reality of her own rule; once she, as Queen, arrived, any event or dinner would swiftly begin regardless of previous scheduling. Once she cleared her plate, that course would be deemed complete, and anyone she was dining with would respectfully set aside their own cutlery, no matter how much remained on their own plate. She loved her people and her kingdom, but these were the parts of being Queen she hated the most, how they watched and dissected every move she made, how it set the tone for everyone around her. It was enough pressure to trigger a full-blown anxiety attack in even the most level-headed, normal person. Another thing she could not afford to let slip.

She glanced at the clock on the wall and decided to wait another few minutes before leaving her room, giving others enough time to gather in the dining hall. More specifically, giving her sister as much time as possible to get ready.

She crossed the hall and rapped her knuckles against her sister's door. The door swung open immediately and revealed a fresh-faced and fully dressed Anna. Her sister was ready, on time, for once.

Anna greeted her with a big smile linking her arm through Elsa's, as she set out down the corridor, confidently leading the way toward the dining hall.

Elsa raised an eyebrow. "Do you know where we're going?"

"Of course!" Anna replied cheerfully. "Down the stairs, then to the left hallway, second door."

Elsa's couldn't recall anyone giving them directions, but they must have. Perhaps she was more tired than she originally thought.

They paused at the door to the dining hall and dutifully allowed the footman to open it for them. Elsa entered first as the footman announced her arrival, and her sister followed closely behind. The party around the long, polished table stayed standing until Elsa took her seat at the center, with the Baron on her left and Anna on the right. She gave a small nod of her head, signaling for the dinner party to take their seats. The footmen immediately jumped into action, pouring drinks and bringing out the first course.

Elsa used the cover of the bustling service to look around the table. Aside from Oskar and his family, there were a handful of faces she didn't know, likely Valle's lesser lords who served under the barony. Roughly twenty people in total made up the dinner party. The clink of glasses, cutlery and lively buzz of conversation brought to mind the last sizeable gathering she'd attended, her first in thirteen years, and how that had turned out.

Elsa twisted the napkin on her lap where the guests couldn't see. A warm hand touched her arm, and she barely managed not to jump out of her skin. She followed the hand up to her sister's face.

Anna squeezed her arm and offered a reassuring smile. Elsa returned the smile and released a slow breath. Suddenly feeling relieved, Anna had invited herself on the trip.

"Your Majesty," The baroness Adelaida spoke up from her spot across the table from her husband. "I hope while you are here you have a chance to go into town for the Vetnaetr festival."

"What's Vetnaetr?" Anna asked, leaning to the side to allow a bowl of soup to be placed in front of her.

"It's an old Winter festival," Elsa answered for her, "the name means 'winter nights.' It used to be one of three most important festivals celebrated by the Vikings, if I remember correctly?" Elsa searched her memory for details about the festival. It had been a long time since she studied the old traditions. Most of them hadn't been practiced in centuries. "I wasn't aware anyone still celebrated Vetnaetr."

Oskar nodded. "That's correct, though we don't follow most of the old traditions. It's more of an excuse for people to get together, to tell stores and sell goods. And drink too much ale, of course," he said good-naturedly. "Your Majesties have great timing. The festival has just started and will go on for three more days."

Anna clapped her hands together and started excitedly chatting away with Adelaida about the festival. Elsa chuckled as she listened to her sister, happy to see her excited and enjoying herself. It amazed her how easy it was for Anna to fit in with and befriend everyone she met.

The Baron leaned in. "Your Majesty," he whispered, "I wanted to express my gratitude for your willingness to travel here to Valle when you could have just as easily sent someone in your stead. I can only imagine how busy you must be."

Elsa smiled. "You give me too much credit, Lord Oskar. It is I who should thank you. Your crops will keep Arendelle from going hungry this winter. Traveling here and personally ensuring Valle receive a fair deal is the absolute least I could do."

"Your Majesty, I don't believe you give yourself enough credit." The Baron studied her a long moment, like he was talking stock. She struggled not to fidget under his appraisal. "You are so very much like your father."

Her chest warmed from the praise, chasing away the lingering ice in her veins. "You're to kind," she said, blushing up to her ears.

"You probably don't know this, but many years ago, perhaps just before you were born, Valle was stricken with a terrible disease. This disease not only destroyed our crops but many of the livestock that grazed in the fields."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

Oskar nodded. "If it wasn't for your father, Valle would have starved that winter. In sharing our crop with Arendelle, we are merely repaying a long overdue debt. A debt that our people are more than happy to pay."

As the party moved to the next course, conversation flowed easily around her, and Elsa was content to witness rather than take part, listening with mild interest. She settled in her chair and sipped her wine.

"Why don't I get any wine?" Anna frowned, eyeing her sister's glass. "I'm old enough."

"Barely," Elsa replied with a smile. "You don't like wine, Anna."

"You don't know that," Anna insisted with a pout.

Elsa sighed, feeling herself cave. After everything they'd been through, she couldn't help but spoil her sister. "If it means that much, you can have a sip of mine."

"Really?"

"A small sip," she reiterated.

"What does it taste like?" Anna leaned forward and picked up the glass, then drank much more than a small sip. Her eyes widened, gaze darting around frantically.

Elsa shot her sister a dangerous look. "Anna," she whispered harshly, "don't you dare spit that out."

Anna froze, scrunching her face as she concentrated on choking down the mouthful of wine. She immediately reached for her glass of water, but in her frantic effort to rid her mouth of the taste, clumsily knocked the glass aside instead.

As the glass bounced off her sister's knuckles, Elsa startled and threw her hands out. Ice instantly encased the glass, spiraling upwards and freezing the displaced water as it spilled into the air. Tiny snowflakes and crystals glittered around the frozen, tilted glass, like an icy sculpture in the middle of the table.

It took a moment for Elsa to note the dead silence in the room. Then, she realized what she had just done, and she cupped her hands protectively against her chest.

Every eye in the room, including those of the servants, was on her. She tried to remind herself that it was okay, that she didn't need to hide her magic. Everyone here knew of her powers, but the old, well-ingrained fears wrapped a constricting band around her chest until she could hardly draw a breath.

Oskar leaned forward to inspect the frozen glass. "Your Majesty, may I compliment you on your quick reflexes. If it had been me, I'm not sure I could have moved so fast, magic or not."

Adelaida smiled across the table at her husband. "Darling, if we were at the mercy of your quick reflexes, I fear we'd all be wet and half-dried again before you first moved."

The Baron winked at his wife then looked over his shoulder, gesturing to the butler. "Carson, would you get the princess a fresh glass?"

Elsa chuckled at the Baroness's good-natured teasing, feeling the tension in the room break. They replaced the frozen glass with a fresh one, and the conversation started up once more. She took a steadying breath and allowed her hands to slide to her lap. "Thank you," she whispered to the Baron.

He merely smiled. "I'm afraid I don't know to what Your Majesty is referring to."

Elsa returned his smile then turned to her sister who had the good grace to look both bashful and apologetic. The Baron's youngest son, Danel, sitting across from Anna, saved the younger woman from having to apologize.

"Princess Anna," he said, "It's good to have you back in Valle. We've sorely missed your presence these last three years."

Elsa looked at her sister, the fear from just moments ago replaced by surprise. "Back in Valle?"

Anna smiled sheepishly. "I may have been here once or twice before."

"Once or twice? More like once a year for a week since we were . . . ten, I believe?" Danel turned his attention to Elsa. "You didn't know?"

"No," Elsa replied, staring at her sister as she processed the information. "I didn't."

Danel chuckled. "I'm surprised. The mischief your sister got into was legendary. There was never a dull moment with her around."

Elsa broke her gaze from Anna, dipping her head with a chuckle. "I can imagine. I assure you, not much has changed on that front." She took a bite of her dinner, chewing thoughtfully. Their parents forced them apart as they grew up, but she had no idea Anna ever left the castle, much less traveled this far for an entire week, every year. She felt a tightness in her chest, unsure what to make of this piece of information. Perhaps she'd have to wait until they retired for the night and get the full story from her sister.