A/N: Thank you guys for all the support you've given, and for the patience of waiting for the Elsanna through 19 whole chapters! You guys are amazing.

Stay awesome guys, and once again, thank you so much for sticking with me!

Anna pressed her lips to Elsa's racing pulse, and in that moment neither of them expected the feral growth that erupted from the back of Elsa's throat. Almost forcefully, Elsa brought the hand that was tangled in Anna's hair to cup her face and drag her chin upward.

When their lips met a second time, it was nothing like the first one. The first one was guarded in comparison. Desperate, yes, but still hesitant, unsure. This one was fueled by unfiltered, unbridled desire, bordering on lust, any remaining uncertainty wiped away by the residual heat of the first kiss, replacing it with an inferno that spread like wildfire the moment they found each other again.

Elsa let out an airy moan as Anna returned the ardor by nipping at her lower lip and crushing their bodies closer together, if it were even possible. Elsa could feel everything now, with Anna pressed flush against her, legs half-straddling one of her thighs. The hips wrapped around her clouding her thoughts. And then the heaving of Anna's chest as they whispered wordless secrets into each other stopped all cognition entirely. The sensation was overwhelming. She couldn't think. She could only feel.

The second kiss was a passionate dialogue. A heady, iridescent conversation, but a conversation nonetheless, coloured by sounds of pleasure and heavy breathing.

It wasn't until Elsa felt Anna's warm hands ghost over the skin of her hip, under her shirt, that she realized exactly where this was going.

A sharp instinct, almost fearful, piercing through the fog of desire and lust, seized her, and she abruptly gripped Anna's shoulders, hands travelling downward until she was holding her sister's wandering ones.

Breathless, she pushed Anna back, and fought the urge to look down because Anna was still wearing that damned tube top, registering the confusion on her sister's face at her sudden interruption.

"We should…" she grasped at the right word, "… talk."

"Talking can wait," Anna muttered, eyes still dark with desire, focused intently on Elsa's lips.

Elsa struggled to reign herself in. "Yes, until after you get change out of that abominable outfit," she grumbled, an attempt to change the atmosphere. She loosened her hold on her sister, trying not to look further south than the girl's half-lidded eyes. Nope. Not working.

Anna peered up at her with a dash of amusement gracing her irises. "Would you like to help?"

Elsa blinked and attempted to redirect her gaze, face burning. "Anna. That's not what I meant. Get changed."

The finality in her voice told Anna that the passionate moment was over. Disappointed, the younger girl pouted and skipped, albeit provocatively, out of her older sister's room, throwing a, "You better not lock the door again," over her shoulder.

Elsa only smiled in response.

When Anna was gone, Elsa sank to her knees, tilting her head back against the wall, heart still thumping painfully against her ribcage. A sinking apprehension grew in her belly as she realized just how close Anna's hands had been to touching—

No, she would not go there. She would not think about them. Much less the one who put them there.

How could she have been so foolish to think that she could have a normal relationship with Anna, even if the latter returned her feelings? There was one door that she had savagely kept shut her entire life that she would have to inevitably open to her sister if they were going to pursue a working relationship. Not a door, more like an iron gate. A locked gate that arrested black secrets, which would undoubtedly destroy Anna if they were released. A gate that should never be mentioned, much less touched or opened.

But it had just come so close to opening. And it was horrifying to Elsa; a door that she'd spent almost her entire life keeping closed had come so close to opening because she had absolutely no self-control when it came to Anna. The moment Anna touched her, Elsa's self-control had evaporated into thin air. No matter how many walls and locks she put up between herself and Anna, they always came crumbling down eventually. Anna always knew her way through Elsa's defenses.

It was terrifying. She could not let that self-discipline slip again. She wasn't even thinking about her actions when they were kissing, running entirely on instinct and carnal desire, looking only to feed her hunger. She couldn't let that happen again.

This door was different. It had to be.

This one would have to remain closed. She could not bear the consequences of its unlocking. She would die before she allowed this gate to open. Or maybe her life would end upon its opening. There was no real difference anyway.

"Hey! Okay, let's talk—why are you on the floor?" Anna bounded back into her room, curiously taking in Elsa's fetal position against the wall.

"Oh," Elsa scrambled to her feet. Anna had changed into a double-tee, coral with black underneath, and a pair of white denim capris, her silky hair catching fire as she stepped into a spot that was occupied by the rays of the setting sun. For some reason, she didn't look any less enticing to Elsa than she had before. "Just thinking."

"About what?" Anna leaned forward, blocking the spot on the ground that Elsa was focusing so intently on.

"How we're going to handle… us," Elsa sighed heavily. And how I'm going to handle keeping my hands off you.

Anna only smiled and reached to intertwine their fingers. "I don't care, as long as we stay together."

Are you even aware of what you do to me? Elsa was close to growling again merely at the proximity of their hands. The kiss had opened the floodgates to the feelings that Elsa had tried so hard to keep under control, and now she was grasping for the last shreds of the discipline that she spent her entire life developing.

When she didn't respond, Anna stood on the tip of her toes and whispered, "I'm hungry."

Elsa tried to hold back her amusement, but to no avail. She held a hand to her mouth to hold back her laughter; instead, it came out in suppressed giggles. This was so like Anna, the ability to melt away all anxiety and apprehension, to cleanse negativity.

Anna glared at her indignantly. "What? You have no idea how long it took me and Ariel to put that outfit together! I had to go through almost half the rack to find something that she thought was sexy enough! I even skipped lunch for you! And you laugh at me!"

"Yes, that's a criminal offense in Anna-land." Elsa had to take a deep breath to calm herself, shoulders still shaking from laughter.

"You better watch yourself, or I'm going to kiss you again," Anna threatened, still unimpressed by her sister's mirth.

The hilarity of the moment interrupted by Anna's unintended seductive tone, Elsa shook her head. "May I say something?"

"When did you ever need my permission?"

Elsa grinned. "Do you want to make a pizza?"

They both burst out laughing.

The last time they tried to bake a pizza was when their parents were both away on business; Elsa was nine and Anna seven. But the memory of the experience was clear as day in their minds, mostly because of the hefty scolding Gerda had given them after. Anna had wanted to make a pizza; she goaded Elsa into it after an extensive obsession with the cooking channel, and was so adamant to try her hand. Elsa, despite being heavily against it, had agreed to participate out of concern that her clumsy sister would somehow hurt herself on the kitchen equipment.

It was the middle of the night when the giddy girls snuck into the kitchen on their adventure. Alas, they only got as far as dragging the sack of flour out of the pantry when Anna grabbed a handful of the white powder and threw it at her sister as she would a snowball. Unfortunately, flour was obviously not the same as snow, and it flew everywhere, dusting the platinum blonde with a light coat of alabaster. Elsa, never one to back down from what she considered a challenge from Anna, hastily reciprocated, and they ended up using the flour as makeshift snow on the floors, counters, and cabinets of the kitchen, rolling and flinging it upon each other.

Of course, the giggling and shrieking had woken up the entire house. More like shook the entire house until everyone had to be awake. Gerda had come rushing down, but nothing could have prepared her for the shocking sight of the entire kitchen covered in thick sheets of flour. Of course, she had furiously reprimanded the girls to the best that her gentle demeanor allowed, and made them clean up their mess as punishment. But she had never been one to deny the girls a little bit of fun, all things considered.

They were giggling now, just like they had ten years before. The only difference was that this time the flour was not being using in projectile warfare.

"You do know how to do this, right?" Elsa murmured skeptically as she measured the flour.

"Oh, how hard could it be? You just put flour and water together, and voila!" Anna danced around the kitchen, grabbing various pieces of equipment from the oak cabinets, after unceremoniously shooing the chefs from their natural habitat. "Why are you measuring? You don't need to measure! Just throw them together! Oh, and throw in some of the herbs from the spice rack!"

"Dear god," Elsa shook her head again at her sister.

"Don't worry, it won't end up like the time you tried to make spaghetti and burned it because you forgot to stir," the redhead chided, casting Elsa a mocking glance. "For all your common sense, you'd think you'd remember that you need to stir."

Elsa sputtered, temporarily unable to summon a comeback, the humiliating memory at the forefront of her thoughts. "Yes, because we're never going to get there! Look at this!" she motioned to the soggy mush forming in the mixing bowl before her as Anna dumped some water into it.

Anna frowned. "It probably just needs more flour. Here," she filled the mixing bowl to the brim with flour. "Now we need to knead it. Oh—and herbs!" She hopped away to collect said ingredients.

Elsa stared at the metal mixing bowl that housed the mountain of flour, unsure of what to do. Was she supposed to use her hands? She was hopeless at cooking. Her encounter with the pasta sufficiently proved that. She prodded the mound with a wooden spoon.

Anna returned, clumsily spilling all the bottles of spices onto the granite countertop. "Oops! Heh, well, we'll clean that up later." Noticing Elsa's hesitation, she chirped, "Sis, you're supposed to use your hands."

"Oh." Elsa flexed her hands, still uncertain of what to do.

Anna came up behind her, and Elsa tensed instinctively. "Here," Anna murmured as she put her hands over Elsa's and guided them into the mixture. Anna's chin was resting on Elsa's shoulder, and she didn't seem to notice Elsa's tight posture as she continued to work the mush in front of them. "By the way, I have a game next Friday. Will you come? I want you to watch me play."

Anna's warm breath washed over the skin of Elsa's neck as she spoke, and suddenly Elsa couldn't find the connection between her brain and mouth. Instead, she ducked under Anna's outstretched arm and retracted her hands from the bowl, trying to ignore the expression of hurt on her sister's face. "I-I'm not sure you're doing this right. I'm going to fetch Chef Lumiere," she muttered, hastily wiping her floury hands on a towel to distract herself. "You're hungry, and at the rate this is going we're going to take all night and the next day to finish this thing." Then she all but sprinted out the door.

As per her words, she soon returned, with the indignant Head Chef (who was aghast at the blaspheming abomination in his kitchen) in tow. Feeling more comfortable now that they were not alone, she let the Chef fix the offending dough and tentatively put her hand on her sister's shoulder. "I'll go to your game," she whispered, and hoped it was enough to compensate for her earlier retreat.

It was, and what could she say? Anna was never one to hold grudges. Teal orbits returned her apologetic gaze with an excited one. "Really? Great! We've been practicing really hard for it!"

Elsa could only give an affirmative nod as she felt her sister snuggle into her side. This has to stop, she decided. She needed to stop feeling like a teenage boy in heat every time Anna so much as touched her, or the door that must not be opened is going to open. How did she manage to control herself all those other times that Anna touched her, before they kissed?

Thankfully, since Anna was distracted for the rest of the afternoon by Chef Lumiere's professional display of forming the pizza crust, and by the prospect of piling on ingredients of her choice, Elsa was able to avoid the issue for a while longer.

She almost forgot the issue of their mother's return the next day.

The carpet was out again. The carpet that was traditionally used to receive the master of the house when they returned from a journey away from home. The carpet that was passed down through the generations of the house of Arendelle, its dark red colour akin to blood as it contrasted with the cool gray marble of the floor.

The air of rigidity and courteousness was stifling. It seemed everyone was holding their breath as Josef Arendelle stepped back through the front doors of his mansion.

The entire floor had been waxed and polished, the regal carpet laid out in its splendid golden mahogany, as if welcoming royalty, stretching from the entrance to the shining staircase. The maids were lined up along the long carpet on either side, scarcely moving, as Josef Arendelle strode through the doors, hands at his sides, head high, and down the carpeted pathway.

There was a flash of ginger, and suddenly the entire foyer seemed to let out a relieved exhale. "Daddy!"

Josef knelt to catch his crazed seven-year-old daughter as she raced toward him, arms swinging wildly. Gripping his daughter's sides tightly, he laughed and spun her around in the air once before setting her down again, letting her hug his legs with unbridled affection. "Welcome home, Daddy!"

"Thank you, Anna. It's good to be back."

Elsa watched the exchange apprehensively from the apex of the staircase as her sister dashed to their father, arms outstretched. Her own instinct was telling her to hide, to create as much distance from this man as possible. But he was her father, who was she to hide from him? It never worked anyway.

She tried to hate him. But Anna loved him.

So she had to, too.

Slowly descending the cold, polished steps, she approached the sovereign of the house. He raised his gaze from the cuddling form of Anna to his other daughter, the warmth from his interaction with Anna promptly dissipating from his face.

"Welcome home, Father."

He gave her a nod, the only acknowledgement that he'd heard her. And then, reaching a hand into his pocket, he produced a small box. Kneeling again, he held it in front of Anna. "This is for you, princess," he smiled at her, eyes crinkling with affection.

"Thanks, Daddy! I love presents!" Little Anna gave their father a clumsy kiss on the cheek, barely above his bronze mustache. Frowning, she blinked at him and then her sister. "Daddy, where's Elsa's?"

He smiled again, but Elsa, despite being only nine, could discern the difference between this display and the previous one. "She'll get hers, too." To Elsa, the words were ominous, cold. Turning back to Anna, he said tenderly, "I hope you two haven't been getting into too much trouble."

Elsa cringed internally, knowing what was to come.

"Oh, oh, we skipped our lessons and played in the snow again yesterday, when Mom wasn't watching!" Then, realizing what she had just confessed, little Anna gasped, "You won't tell her, will you?"

"Of course not, Anna. It'll be our secret." Josef Arendelle gave his youngest daughter a swift kiss on the forehead, and turned to his eldest daughter. His words, seemingly warm, brought a chill down Elsa's spine. "It'll be our secret, Elsa."

She was shaking again, her back on fire. She had no idea why the mere sight of the mahogany carpet laced with golden threads would incite this memory within her, when it hadn't all those other times she'd seen it put out to welcome her mother's return.

Maybe it was a warning. Her subconscious was trying to warn her of the inevitable disaster that her relationship with her sister would bring. That this was a mistake, to add to all the other mistakes that she had been making lately. That every time she made a mistake, there were costs to pay.

She only ever made mistakes when Anna was involved. Her sister seemed to have some intrinsic ability to smother her common sense to the point where she was even able to convince herself that everything was all right.

She looked up as the doors opened; Anna was already rushing down the steps to greet their mother. Alana Arendelle strode through the doors, an air of elegance and authority around her, and toward her youngest daughter.

"Hello, Anna."

"How was Montreal?" Anna seemed undeterred by their mother's cool demeanor. Something she picked up from interacting with Elsa, perhaps.

"Splendid. Where is your sister?"

Anna looked around confusedly, realizing that Elsa was still at the top of the stairs, gripping the handlebars tightly.

Alana Arendelle met Elsa's forced smile with a façade of her own. "I would like to meet with you in my study." With that, she veered off the path of the carpet, her clacking stilettos echoing off the stone walls of the hallway.

Elsa could already guess what this was about.

Her mother's study was an extravagant, ornamented room, complete with portraits of the most successful Arendelle ancestors, glass display cabinets filled with awards, and bookshelves laden with stock records. In the centre of the room, on the hard walnut floor, stood an aristocratic roll top desk, its royal-oak finish shimmering under the sunlight that was streaming in through one of the large fixed windows. Seated behind the desk was her mother, in a black leather chair, her gaze bordering on hostile.

"I heard your foolishness caused Miss del Rey to be injured."

Elsa wondered exactly how much her mother knew already. "Yes."

"I will not tolerate the Arendelle name to be marred by you any further, do you understand? To think, an Arendelle would be drinking at some disgusting bar in the slums. Just how much do you plan to disgrace yourself?"

Elsa narrowed her eyes. "It was a miscalculation on my part. It will not happen again."

"Fortunately, President del Rey has decided to overlook your idiocy and has not allowed it to affect our dealings with Neptune Corp. It did, however, cost me a courteous increase in the annual payment."

"I will do my best to compensate."

"Your best, Elsa?" Alana replied disdainfully. "How about you show me this 'best' of yours by negotiating a merger with Falk Industries?"

"A merger? I thought—"

"I could care less what you thought. I have decided that since oil is going to be a rare commodity in a few years, it is in the best interest of the company to own as much of the industry as possible. I recently negotiated several mergers with smaller oil companies, but having Falk Industries cooperate with us will be a great asset, especially when prices begin to increase."

Elsa returned her mother's cold, emotionless glare. "I understand. I will schedule a meeting with the president of Falk Industries as soon as possible."

"I heard that Falk Industries is going to have a change in management. President Falk will be stepping down, and his son Hans will be taking his place. You will do well to meet with him privately."

"Privately? Why not call a conference?"

"Elsa, even you must realize the easiest way to assimilate Falk Industries is to simply marry the president. Lucky for you, the next president will be your age," Alana added with a sneer.

It took a moment for the words to sink in. Marry. Her mother expected her to marry Hans Falk.