She wakes up hot. The sun's beating down unpleasantly on the side of her face, but it's not just that.
Elsa opens her eyes only to find a head curled against her chest. That, and- oh. That's- that's her hand. Elsa peers down.
Anna's fist is curled, the back of her fingers pressed against the swell of Elsa's stomach. She shifts a little, leaning in closer. Elsa's eyes trace the line of her jaw. She's so young.
She rolls away from Anna then, and leaves.
Before she does something she'll regret.