A/N: Thanks to Hunhund for inspiring a certain chunk of dialogue in this chapter. Heh.
She was vehemently regretting asking Elsa that question. What if she wasn't ready to answer? Anna reminded herself that she had decided to give Elsa space. More like, she wasn't ready to face rejection again, not after the soul crushing experience of that first time. She was about to take back her question, to tell Elsa that she didn't have to answer that, when she heard it.
A half-sung line.
The plate dropped to the ground with a shattering crash, but Anna was too shocked out of her mind to do anything about it. Not because of the fact that Elsa had completely caught her off-guard with that line. Not because of the mind-blowing, toe-warming, tingly confirmation that Elsa did love her, in at least in one way or another.
In fact, she was pretty sure she was still dreaming, that this was another fantasy, and any moment now an annoyed Elsa was going to be shaking her awake, chastising her for sleeping like a damned sloth. She would have pinched herself too, and she really wanted to do so, except her entire body seemed entirely disconnected from her brain and she couldn't exercise any sort of control at all. She briefly wondered how she was still standing—she couldn't feel anything except the quickening thrum of her ribcage.
What did Elsa just say? Or rather, sing. And it was such an incredible sight, too—Elsa standing against the powdery white quartz countertop that was just marginally paler than herself, bathed in the sunlight that was bouncing off the snowy walls of the living room, her loose platinum blond locks aglow, radiating a warmth that only Anna knew (or at least, she hoped). Elsa's words were ricocheting around in Anna's head, leaving a path of blankness and disorientation in their wake, and Anna was trying to make sense of them through the dense cloud of excitement that the words had wrought.
I want the world to see you be with me.
Did that mean what she thought it meant? The operative word in that sentence was 'be' and Anna suddenly couldn't remember what its definition was. Why were the small words in English always the hardest to define? To be: to live, to exist, to take place, to happen, to occur, to continue, to…
Yet none of those words, none of them replacing 'be' in that sentence would make any sense whatsoever.
Unless… Anna dared to hope… that it meant… reciprocation?
She barely noticed that Elsa had turned her attention to the shattered ceramic pieces on the floor. She blinked, snapping back to the present, barely believing that this was not a dream. Well, if it was a dream, she would enjoy it.
Elsa seemed confused. "Are you okay, Anna?" She asked, as she bent over, one hand elegantly resting on the ivory counter, to gather up the broken pieces and toss them into the trash.
Anna realized she was staring, and had been for a long time, when she finally regained some miniscule portion of her grasp on reality. "Cl-clarification," she heard herself say, "please." That was about all she could manage.
Elsa straightened and tactfully took in Anna's stiff form, comprehension followed by regret and guilt tinting the oceanic depths of her eyes as she held Anna's bewildered stare. Still, Anna could do nothing but watch as a parade of emotions sauntered across Elsa's features—each one representing a different thought? Remorse reigned above all, doubt a close second, then some mix of caution, worry, grief, more caution, until Elsa closed her eyes and opened them again—and all the hesitation was gone. What once was cloudy was now clear, blindingly clear like the sun burning the cerulean of the midsummer sky, so intense that Anna felt the urge to look away. Yet, somehow, it was gentle at the same time.
Elsa took a step toward her, fingers lightly brushing the smooth stone of the countertop as she, despite her injured leg, moved with unparalleled fluidity. But Anna's brain was far too fried by Elsa's actions in the past couple of minutes to even have the capacity to envy her grace.
"Don't move." The command was a cleverly disguised one, hidden by soft intonation and lacking any characteristic of an imperative, save for the words themselves.
It's not like Anna could have moved anyways, command or not; her mind was still floating carelessly up in space, neglecting to issue any sort of order to her rigid form. Her joints were stiff, back straight (straighter than her usual posture, anyway), and knees locked, or she would have tumbled straight to the floor. Frighteningly atypical of her to not be performing any sort of fidgeting or shifting whatsoever.
But the way Elsa was looking at her, a piercing brilliance that she couldn't define, made her heart thud incessantly against her ribcage—and it was just the way Elsa was looking at her.
Not fair.
She promptly forgot how to breathe when she felt a warm hand—Elsa's, probably, seeing as there was no one else—cup one side of her jaw, fingers sliding against her nape, firm but tender. How did Elsa do that? Demand obedience so easily, but all the while displaying the most heartwarming care.
Elsa leaned closer, and Anna didn't have any brain functions left to cease—breathing, cognition, movement had all swiftly been kicked out the door—so all she could do was stare into the endless stretch of azure sky in Elsa's mesmerizing eyes while their lips slowly came to be within an inch of one another.
But Elsa stopped, and their lips didn't touch, although so close that Anna could faintly taste fresh mint mixed with sweet saltiness on the breath that fell on her lips. Anna would have closed her eyes, wrapped her arms around Elsa, pressed their bodies together, if she wasn't still entertaining the notion that this was a dream and any movement whatsoever would irreversibly disrupt this perfect moment.
There was warmth on her cheeks—a side effect from having Elsa so close to her, and the only thing that she could register aside from the thumping that was reverberating in her ears was Elsa's hooded eyes, beautiful blue eyes, crystal clear, and the distance between her own eyes and those magically hypnotizing ones so miniscule that she could count each fluttering eyelash as Elsa blinked. Which was something that Anna should have also considered doing, if she weren't still convinced that this was a dream.
Another hand held the other side of Anna's face, thumb lightly brushing her cheek, as Elsa leaned even closer. Then she hovered, and their lips were barely touching, but not really. Anna's breathing abruptly became ragged—a consequence of forgetting to breathe—and she was already feeling rather lightheaded. Their lips weren't even touching! How could one person have this strong of an effect on her?
They stayed like that for the next couple of seconds that felt like an eternity to Anna, with Elsa's lips lingering a hair's width away from her own. She lost focus of everything else, and dared to blink in anticipation of a fantasy. This was a dream, after all. Right?
And then Elsa's lids lowered even more, and she slowly brushed her lips against Anna's, lightly, along the length of Anna's mouth, with almost no pressure behind the contact, in only the gentlest of strokes. Anna's face warmed even more in response under Elsa's palms, and Elsa's lips stretched into a slight smile; Anna could feel it.
God, she could feel it. And it was all she could feel. It was as if her brain decided to sever every nerve save for the ones connected to her lips. And they were on fire. All she could register was the softness that brushed across her mouth and back, leaving a tingly burn in its wake. She would have shuddered at the pleasure if she still weren't afraid of waking up.
Her lips parted to drink in more of Elsa's scent, inhaling the sweet aroma of peaches on her shampoo, the fresh fragrance of roses on her cleanser, and a whiff of orange blossom on her perfume. Anna was getting dizzy, and she most likely would have fainted if this weren't a dream.
Elsa kissed her upper lip, then her lower one, touching each one with a tenderness that was fit for blown glass, the very thing Anna had insisted that she was not. It felt so real, but it couldn't be, could it?
These kisses were not heated but stirring, not desperate but intense, not lustful, but loving, strikingly unlike any kiss they'd shared before, so deliberate, yet still sending an inflamed tingle to the pit of Anna's stomach.
Elsa had never kissed her like this before. Never, in any dream, had Elsa kissed her this carefully, this purposefully, this delicately before.
This couldn't be a dream.
Suddenly, Anna heard it. She heard what Elsa was trying to tell her. The kiss carried with it a sense of longing, yearning, with a hint of desire, but not lust. There was love. Love so warm that it sizzled across every one of Anna's nerves, that it nestled into the void of her soul and filled her to the brim with euphoria.
Love.
Elsa loved her.
This was not a dream.
Elsa loved her.
She was about to react, after finally accepting that this was not a dream, despite feeling extremely floaty and blown-away, when Elsa halted and pulled away. Anna's eyes flew open in disapproval, but she managed to wrap her arms around Elsa's neck to prevent the distance between them from increasing. "Again," she demanded, eyes fluttering shut expectantly.
And Elsa willingly obliged, just as softly and as chaste as before, and the gesture was so lovingly calm that it was as if Elsa was only showing her a miniscule fragment of her feelings, like there was an infinite reserve being held back. Anna had only been shown the surface of a serene ocean, with endless power hidden underneath. No, not hidden. Restrained.
Anna's brow furrowed in protest as Elsa moved away, for the kiss had been too short, too quick, too calm to satisfy all the reciprocation Anna wanted to give. "Again," she complained, eyes still closed, lower lip jutting out in a pout.
Elsa kissed her forehead instead, mouth curved in a smile, a hand sliding along Anna's jaw to gently thumb her bottom lip back in place, and Anna's eyes opened again in displeasure. She wanted more, more, more, she wanted Elsa to show her more, to whisper more secrets past their lips, to fulfill the yearning in those wistful kisses.
So she tightened her hold on Elsa's neck and pulled her sister down, lips closer to her own, heart aching to turn those melancholy kisses into happy ones, but Elsa's firm hands stemmed her fervor.
"That's enough," Elsa murmured, cool breath brushing the sensitive skin of Anna's lips, before unlatching Anna's arms from around her neck and stepping away.
Enough? How in the world was that enough? To Anna, that was nowhere near enough; she wanted nothing more than to lock onto Elsa and kiss her so passionately that it wiped all traces of regret, guilt, and any other negative emotion Elsa came up with off the face of the planet.
"You love me," Anna said, voice coming out in a hoarse rasp when she tried to raise it above a whisper. Her face was so hot that she wanted to fan herself, but decided that that would be even more super-embarrassing. She looked up to see Elsa nodding.
"Yes," the blonde affirmed, a smile lingering on her features.
Anna's heart was doing jumps, flips, leaps. Somersaults. "You really love me."
"Yes," Elsa replied patiently.
"Really?"
"Yes," the older girl answered again, leaning onto an elbow resting on the counter.
"Really-really?"
This time, Elsa rolled her eyes, "Yes."
"I'm not dreaming?" Anna blurted. Although the warmth of the kiss was seared into her mind, she was still the type to need verbal confirmation. Actually, she had half a mind to ask Elsa to pinch her.
Elsa's smile spread from reassuring to villainous, "Do you dream about this often?"
Anna's face burned impossibly hotter at the playful jab, because of how true the embedded statement was. Ever since Elsa's departure three years ago, ever since Elsa's return, ever since Ariel's question, ever since the prom, soccer game, gala, and kidnapping, Anna's nights had been beset by the fantasies of kisses Elsa would never give, words Elsa would never say, love Elsa would never feel, in the form of dreams, thoughts, nightmares, always permeating her mind in some way or another.
But before Elsa could write off her blushing silence as nonverbal consensus, she deflected, "Then why did you stop?"
Elsa bit her lip—god, Anna wished she would never do that, because every time she did, well—let's not get carried away, okay? Anna berated herself, as she waited for Elsa's reply. Nevertheless, she couldn't help thinking, would she mind not doing that? Because the things it does to me—
"I don't want to mess things up any more than I already have," Elsa sighed, looking defeated as she tore her eyes away and traced imaginary circles on the quartz countertop instead.
Anna's heart fell at the statement and the guilt in Elsa's eyes. Did Elsa still see this as a mistake? Did she regret the kisses that they've shared? Reluctantly, Anna took a step closer. "Do you—do you still think this is wrong?"
Elsa shook her head, golden locks falling across her eyes as she stared at the floor dejectedly. "I don't know, Anna. I don't know what's right and what's wrong. I don't know what I should do anymore." She ran a hand through her hair, raking back platinum bangs and chuckled at herself. "I wish this was as easy as deciding the toppings for a pizza, or choosing the flavour of chocolate to put in a cake." She looked at Anna, blue eyes shining with apology and conflict. "But I do know that I can't lose you again. That I can't hurt you anymore. That I don't want to lie to you anymore."
Cold steel ripped its way into Anna's chest as a particular realization dawned on her. "Would you have hidden your feelings from me forever? If I didn't… feel the same?"
And the solid metal gripped even tighter when Elsa smiled at her and declared, "Of course."
Didn't Elsa ever want happiness for herself? Why was Elsa so damned altruistic? It drove Anna insane with misery as she pictured Elsa smiling for her as she went on dates with other people, as she kissed other people, as she fell in love with someone else, moved out, got married, had kids. It killed her to think that Elsa would never have tried to pursue her, that Elsa would have always put Anna's needs before anyone else's, that Elsa would most likely have just smiled and waved if Anna ever left her, if she was sure that Anna would have been happy, all the while maintaining the charade that she was glad and content and joyful for Anna, when, in fact, she would be dying inside. Or maybe she wouldn't, because that was what made Elsa so beautiful, was that she would gladly stomach her own pain if it meant Anna's happiness.
Which she had already been doing for years prior. God, since she was six, Elsa had been suffering silently and enduring in solitude, pretending that she was okay, so that Anna wouldn't be concerned about her and have to share in her burden.
That was the extent of Elsa's love for her.
The thought was both heartwarming and heartbreaking.
Then something else occurred to her. "Would you have pretended that you feel the same… if I did… and you didn't?"
Elsa looked at her solidly, hurt bleeding into her pale blue irises. "Is that what you think? That I'm pretending because it's what you want?"
Anna blanched. A++ in how-to-offend-your-sister. She shook her head rapidly, trying to immediately dispel any doubt that she may have returned to Elsa's mind with that poorly worded question. "No! No, that's not what I think!" The way Elsa had kissed her… it was every form of genuine. "No, of course not. No. No!"
How could she explain it? How could she word it so that Elsa would understand? It was just… it hurt her to even think about it. In fact, it made her want to kick over another table. It was a good thing that they didn't have any furniture in the living room for her to punish.
It was just one thing. One thing about Elsa that she had always been too stupid to see.
That Elsa would have done anything to make her happy. Even if that meant keeping everything inside forever. Anna could see that now. And that Elsa would have been whatever Anna needed her to be. Even if that meant willingly pretending, lying, suffering, forcing herself to be who she wasn't.
Because Elsa was like that.
Because Elsa was the little girl in Anna's memories who let herself be dragged around, drenched in mischief, fully knowing what punishment awaited her, yet eagerly agreeing to do the same thing again the next time.
That must have been so hard. So hard. Pretending to have fun, pretending to be okay, pretending to smile, all the while knowing what her father would do to her. For her stupid, oblivious, selfish sister.
How could Elsa still smile at Anna in light of everything she's been through? How could Elsa not be embittered by all the mistreatment and misjudgment that she's had to endure, from her entire family? How was Elsa still able to love?
Somehow, Elsa hadn't let it get to her. She didn't let it break her. She had every right to be angry and resentful at the entire world, but she wasn't. She was the exact opposite, kind, caring, compassionate, understanding.
Perfect.
… And so deserving of love.
Anna launched herself at Elsa, who up until then had defensively crossed her arms over her midsection as she dejectedly waited for Anna's explanation. Elsa had been completely unprepared for her assault, and the impact caused them both to land in a heap against the cinnamon-coloured flooring.
"—Ow." Elsa groaned, rubbing her back where it had first made contact with the hardwood finish. Thankfully, her leg was okay; it was more her behind that had absorbed the full brunt of the fall.
"I'm sorry," Anna whispered, and hoped Elsa would somehow know that it wasn't for knocking her over. "That's not what I meant."
Elsa looked down at the clump of red hair against her shoulder. Anna's weight was mostly on the floor beside her, but limbs were strewn over her body, clutching at her tightly. "It's okay?" The answer came out as a question, because she wasn't sure what Anna was apologizing for, and she sounded more bewildered than hurt by Anna's sudden attack. "If you're apologizing for suddenly jumping me, well, then you owe me a box of chocolates for my sore behind."
"I love you," Anna muttered, burying her face against Elsa's shoulder. "And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. How can I ever make up for what I've done to you?"
"You could stop apologizing," Anna heard Elsa sigh.
Elsa was right; apologizing fixed absolutely nothing. But there was no consolation, no compensation that Anna could give her, and that made everything even worse.
"You have one more wish left," Elsa exhaled into the despairing air. "Have you decided what you want?"
Anna's ears twitched at the change of subject. Elsa was right again, dwelling on it wouldn't change anything either. She grinned; Elsa always made it so easy for her to smile again. "I have, O leprechaun sister of mine," she declared lightly.
"God, please don't make that a habit," Elsa grumbled, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Well? What is it?"
"A date."
"A date! Hoooooooooooh my God, what the hell was I thinking?" Anna paced back and forth, hyperventilating in an exaggerated manner, in front of Ariel at the coffee shop where she was supposed to meet Elsa in thirty minutes. Elsa had gone to the office, to pick something up or drop something off; Anna hadn't really been listening at that point, after Elsa had agreed to her request.
Ariel was fighting the urge to slap a palm to her forehead in exasperation. "That's what you called me out here for? I'm glad you two finally got together, but, Anna, is a date with Elsa something you need to be stressing over?"
"Yes!" Anna almost screamed, drawing the attention of the other patrons in the café.
"Why?" Ariel yelled back at her, disbelief forming a thick coat around the question.
They both ignored the glares that were flung their way.
"Because!" Anna's arms flailed aimlessly in her anxiety. "I don't—I don't know her!"
Ariel stared at her as if she'd sprouted a third eye in the middle of her forehead. "You don't know her? If you don't know her, who does? Anna, you've known her your entire life. No one knows her better than you!"
"Dahhh! I've known her my whole life!" Anna exclaimed, as if the fact was shocking news to her. She placed her hands on her cheeks and pulled them down, wailing, "But I still don't know her, Ariel! What if we have nothing in common? What if she finds me boring? What if she regrets her decision? What if—"
"Anna! Will you please calm down!"
"We have nothing in common!" Anna gasped as it suddenly dawned on her that she and Elsa were basically from different worlds. "I know nothing about what she does, and I never have! Oh, my god, why didn't I pay more attention during my lessons? Gahhh!"
"Anna, did you ask Elsa on a date thinking that you'd be talking about violin lessons or ballet lessons?"
"I don't know! I didn't pay attention during either!"
Ariel's hands scraped the table in exasperation, polished fingernails making a scratching noise. "You're missing the point! Elsa's not going to care what you learned during your lessons! She wants to spend time with you, Anna!"
Anna sucked in an audible breath. "Huuuuuughhh what if there are a lot of awkward silences?" Her eyes widened. "What if I say something stupid? What if she doesn't want to be seen in public with me?"
"Anna, calm your tits!"
"My tits are never calm!" Anna blurted, and clamped a hand over her mouth as she realized what she had just shrieked in front of a dozen other people, then buried her face in her hands. "Why did I say that? Oh god, Elsa will never want to be seen with me!"
Ariel had covered her mouth with a hand as well, shaking uncontrollably with silent laughter. "Anna, Elsa loves you for you; she knows what kind of person you are. She has for almost nineteen years. You've been alone with her a million times before. It'll just be like that, except you guys love each other even more now. So you need to just calm down."
Anna let out a heavy puff of depression.
Ariel shifted in her seat, "Why don't you tell me what's really bothering you?"
"I can't give her anything, Ariel!" Anna blubbered, arms flailing again. "She's so perfect, and I'm nowhere near good enough for her! All I can do is apologize for all the trouble I've caused her, and it does nothing!"
Ariel watched her, listening intently.
Anna looked at the ground. "And it makes me feel so… useless. I've never been able to do anything for her. She looks so sad every time I say sorry, but it's all I can do."
Ariel tilted her head, pondering thoughtfully. "Then don't say sorry," she suggested simply.
Anna threw her a conflicted look. "What do I say, then?"
Grinning, Ariel gestured for Anna to come closer, and yanked the younger girl down so that she could whisper something in her ear.
When Anna pulled away, looking inspired, Ariel added, "Your sister isn't always perfect, you know. She's human too."
Elsa was having one of those not-perfect moments, stiffly marching back and forth between the two opposite walls of her office, arms crossed, trying not to panic.
A date. Anna wanted a date. Oh god. Elsa had never been on a real date before. In her two weeks of going out with Ariel, they hadn't really had time for going on dates, swamped under piles and piles of papers. They only had time for short kisses in the brief moments they had alone, both of them too exhausted at the end of the day for anything more.
Elsa was aware that she was socially challenged. She missed social cues like a batter whiffing a baseball. And now Anna knew how she felt. How was this not going to be awkward?
How did she spend time with Anna alone before? She couldn't remember anymore. She suddenly longed for those easygoing times where they'd snuggled up together on the couch in the theatre room of Arendelle Manor, just enjoying the silence and comfort of one another's presence.
But she did want this with Anna, didn't she? Elsa wanted to be with her so much that it hurt. Like there was some sort of gravity pulling them together, threatening to rip her in half if she dared to resist.
But, ugh, romance. Elsa didn't have a romantic bone in her body. What little knowledge she had of romantic gestures stemmed from the limited romantic comedies that she had watched with Anna in the six months before her departure to Oxford.
She knew that was what Anna would want, though. It was obvious enough from the way the younger girl's eyes always lit up with joy during the fairytale stories about princes and balls and magic that Elsa always read to her in their childhood. Anna had always been the one who fantasized about romantic candlelight dinners, sunset strolls on the docks, bouquets of red roses, and dramatic marriage proposals.
And corny I love you's on white sand beaches. Elsa almost shuddered at the thought. How did people in movies always throw out I love you's so easily like the words were commercial advertisements? To Elsa, words meant absolutely nothing. Words and promises, spoken agreements, they were so easily broken. Easily warped, bended, changed, to suit the situation. Actions were concrete proof, and spoke a thousand times louder than words.
Those three puny words were not enough to embody what she felt for Anna, anyway. Barely a scrap of her feelings. That was why she hadn't said it, but shown it to Anna earlier that morning.
She was pleased with herself about that, as well. Those kisses had taken strenuous effort to control them, to not let them escalate into something more intense, more crushing, more representative of what she felt. She had told herself if she really loved Anna, then she would demonstrate discipline, to show herself that she wouldn't let this feeling dominate her like it had so many times before.
And she was pleasantly surprised with the result.
But she had also been afraid, like she always was, of Anna turning against her, being disgusted with her, if Elsa had really shown her just how deep these feelings ran. She didn't want her sister to be crushed by the weight of the incestuous love she harboured, taking extra care to temper her movements, to always be gentle.
Mark entered her office then, carrying a missive. "The Board requests a meeting with you on Monday," he told her. "They want to know where you plan to take this company. I think they'd like a business proposal."
The Board. She tried not to scowl at the mention of the nine other abominable copies of her mother that sat around a conference table every week, discussing how incompetent the CEO was.
"Gustav has already started to research the current events on them," Mark continued.
She sighed. Of course he would. It was what her mother had trained all her PA's to do. Find out any possible leverage that could be dangled in front of them during negotiations to induce obedience, should they decide to disagree with her decisions. That was how Alana had kept the seat of CEO and Chairwoman for the Arendelle family since her father's death. Their family may have owned the largest portion of the company shares, but the shares of the rest of the Board combined would be enough to overrule them, if the rest of Board were ever in consensus.
Elsa pushed unpleasant thoughts about having to read more biographies and news reports aside, hastily nodding her acknowledgement.
"Is there anything else you need?" He asked her, placing the letter on her desk.
There was, but she hesitated to speak it. Was she really considering requesting relationship advice from her PA? Well, it wasn't as if he would be suspicious that she was going on a date with her sister; the rest of the world still thought she was straight, ha. She sighed.
Oh, what the hell? Might as well ask, right? He would have more experience wooing women than she did, anyway. She gave him a scrutinizing stare, which made him look down at his polished leather shoes. "This is not business-related, but…"
"Yes?" He looked at her.
"If you liked someone, what would you do to get them to like you?"
His brows scrunched together in confusion. Then, a slight look of amusement crossed his face, "Is there someone you like, Ms. Elsa?"
She flushed, and quickly turned her back to him, swiftly grabbing the letter on the desk for a distraction. "Forget it; pretend I never asked."
There was shifting of fabric as shoulders shrugged. "I would buy her gifts, for a start. Oh, but you're talking about a man, aren't you? It really depends on the person, Ms. Elsa. I would say, find out what they like and dislike, then do things accordingly. Make friends, first."
We've been friends her whole life.
What did Anna like? With a sinking feeling, Elsa realized she didn't really know. She knew Anna's favourite animal, colour, season, but she didn't really know what to do to make her happy. It was way past the age for gifting crayons, and Elsa wasn't going to let Anna keep a sloth in the house. Anna liked movies, right? But gifting movies was so dull and uncreative. She wanted to bash her head against the desk; her brain wasn't doing her any good anyway.
With a start, she noticed the time, and stuffed the letter into her purse. "I'll see you Monday, Mark. Call me if anything comes up."
"Of course. Good luck, Ms. Elsa," he smiled at her, and then turned to leave.
The café where she was supposed to meet Anna was only a few blocks from the office building, so thankfully Elsa wasn't late, despite being hindered by her injured leg. She stepped into the shop, greeted with the scent of freshly ground coffee beans, searching for Anna among the rounded birch tables and booths. The shop was surprisingly empty, so she found two redheads seated near a corner. Wait, two?
Ariel noticed her, and waved, saying a goodbye to Anna, and wheeled herself in Elsa's direction. She looked at Elsa pointedly, "I'm glad you finally told her, Elsa. But what did you do to her? Why is she so nervous about this?"
Anna was nervous about this? Elsa was practically having heart attacks her entire walk to the store, as she conjured up images where she would say something stupid, and disillusion Anna even more. "I didn't…" she stammered.
Ariel waved her off, "Forget it. Just do something about it." She looked like she was about to disclose something else, but shook her head. "Have fun!"
Anna blinked up at her as Elsa approached the table. "Hi!"
There was something off about her voice, like it was too high, much higher than normal—like she was trying to sound cheerful. Elsa raised an eyebrow, but smiled. "Hi."
"I got you a hot chocolate," Anna said, offering her a cup.
Elsa sat. "Thanks." She stared at her sister; Anna had changed out of her t-shirt and shorts from this morning into a light green summer dress, the lack of sleeves exposing the constellation of freckles on the girl's arms and shoulders. Her eyes then met Anna's, and, having been caught staring, she turned her gaze to a scratch on the birch table, face already warming.
An awkward silence descended over them.
Oh god, she's probably super-bored already. Come on; say something interesting, you sorry excuse for a human being. Make conversation; you know how to do that, right? Talk about the weather. Talk about something. Before she regrets being here with you.
Elsa's thoughts prompted her to raise her head, meeting Anna's eyes, and she found them fixated on her. A blush crept onto Anna's cheeks, and then it was the younger girl's turn to look down.
Another silence polluted the air of the table.
"Um—" Elsa began.
"Uh—" Anna said at the same time.
Another silence.
"You first," Elsa prompted.
Anna shook her head. "No, you first."
Elsa sported a lopsided smirk. "Settle this the usual way?"
Anna grinned back at her. "Rock—"
"Paper—"
"Scissors!"
Elsa was paper. Anna was rock.
How befitting, Elsa thought. "I win. You first."
"What? I thought—"
"You first," Elsa insisted.
Anna's posture was hunched, hands in her lap, shoulders slanting in a depressed manner.
The tension was back, as thick as coagulated blood. What tension? Elsa wondered. Why the hell was there tension between them, best friends, sisters, who'd known each other their entire lives. How could there possibly be tension between them?
"I was just gonna say… if this is uncomfortable for you, you don't have to stay." Anna tucked a stray lock of strawberry-blond behind her ear.
God, what made Anna think that this was uncomfortable for Elsa? She hooked her good leg around the leg of the chair, shuffling closer.
"What I was trying to say this morning was…" Looking at her lap, Anna began fiddling nervously with one of her braids, "You've always done things for me. But I don't want you to do that anymore. I don't want you to be doing things that make you unhappy, because you think it'll make me happy. You need to live for yourself, Elsa."
The corner of Elsa's mouth twitched. "I don't regret doing any of the things I did for you, Anna. Except the… unfortunate incident at the gala. I do regret that."
Anna flinched at the mention of the gala. "I don't blame you for that, Elsa. I don't blame you for anything you've done, because you've done it all for what you thought was my best interest. Even though some of them were questionable, but still. You did your best. And sor—"
Elsa grimacing, bracing herself for another round of apologies that would only cast more guilt into the pit of her heart. She'd had enough of Anna saying those words to her, looking tortured, anguished, as she apologized to remedy the crimes she didn't commit.
But it never came.
"And thank you," Anna said instead, guilt melting into an appreciative smile. "Thank you for doing all that for me. Thank you for being my big sister, for always being there for me when I need you. For saving me, not just once."
For some reason, a huge weight was lifted off of Elsa's shoulders as soon as she heard those words. Relieved. She was relieved. She was relieved because this meant that she hadn't failed, she hadn't failed as a sister, she hadn't failed as a friend. This was the first time in her life when someone had ever thanked her for just being. And of course that someone would be Anna.
She felt herself smiling along with her sister, because what could she say? Anna's smiles were always dangerously contagious. "You've done more for me than you know, Anna, so I was just returning the favour."
Elsa watched as her sister's posture relaxed, and added coolly, "So, what do people do on first dates?"
Anna leaned an elbow onto the table, swirling the hot chocolate in her cup with her other hand, looking thoughtful. "I think it's the time people take to get to know one another."
An idea occurred to Elsa then, and she couldn't help but grin at the idea. "Do you want to play a game?"
Excitement snuck its way onto Anna's features, and the redhead lit up with anticipation. "What kind of game?"
"Well, we've known each other our whole lives, so I was thinking, we do the reverse of what normal people do. I'll ask you questions about me, and you ask me questions about you. Whoever can answer the most, wins."
Anna's smile grew wider. "So it's like a competition, then," she clarified.
Yes, Anna loved competitions, and Elsa could never deny them to her simply because of the way her eyes and face radiated exuberance at the prospect. Age had not changed that very much, Elsa noted. "Yes," she relented, "Like a competition."
Quickly, the redhead produced a pen and began scribbling something on a paper napkin on front of her. Elsa leaned on the table to get a better view of what she was writing. Their first initials, she realized. So Anna was really going to keep score. Elsa shouldn't have been surprised.
"You first," Anna suggested, "since I went first last time."
Elsa looked at the ceiling. She would start off with an easy one then. "What's my favourite colour?"
Anna laughed at her. "That's easy; it's blue!" Before Elsa could speak, she elaborated, "Not just any blue. You like the dark blue of morning just before dawn, just before the sky's awake."
The younger girl was already giving herself a point when Elsa admitted, "Right. Your turn, then."
Anna tapped her chin with the end of the pen, following the trend of easy questions. "What's my favourite animal?"
Elsa had just been thinking about this earlier. "Sloths," she bit back a laugh, "Because you envy how they sleep sixteen hours a day. You were a lazy bum, huh?"
Anna flicked the pen on the napkin. "I'm going to pretend you didn't say that so you don't have to face the fires of my wrath. One-one. Your turn."
Okay, time to up the difficulty, "Hmmm. What's my favourite song?"
Anna snorted. "Do you even need to ask? It's Hakuna Matata. I still hear you humming it when you take your showers. Okay, my turn." After giving herself a point, she announced, "I've got one! What's my favourite season?"
Elsa had been thinking about this one, too, "Winter."
"Dammit," Anna muttered to herself, giving Elsa another check. "Do you know why?" she asked, tone cautious.
"Snowmen? Snowball fights? Snow?"
Anna shook her head, looking wistful. "It was the only time Dad would let me play with you."
Elsa had considered that, but thought it would be too arrogant of her to attribute herself as the cause. "Oh." Winter breaks were the only holidays too short that Elsa couldn't start any long-term lessons, and long enough so that she would have time for both studying and playing.
"Your turn," Anna prodded her hand with the pen, not willing to dwell on the memory. "Hurry up."
"My favourite food, besides chocolate?"
Sipping her chocolate at the mention of chocolate, Anna declared, "Ice cream!"
Elsa rolled her eyes, "Not everything I like is sweet, Anna. I like fruits and vegetables, too."
"Watermelon?"
"Stop guessing what you like."
Anna smirked, "Snow cones."
Elsa wanted very badly to snort. "You're still guessing what you like."
"We're sisters; I can't be far off," Anna grumbled, "So what is it?"
Elsa adopted a very mischievous countenance. "You were right with ice cream. I just wanted to see what else you'd guess."
That elicited a deadly glare from her sister, who grunted, "You just lost a point for that."
"Hey! Who says?"
Anna stuck her tongue out. "I say. Is there a problem?"
Elsa crossed her arms and sat back in her seat, wondering where her air of authority was when she needed it. It seemed to flee at the first sign of Anna. "No."
"Since you were so unsportsmanlike with the last question, I'm going to give you a hard one. What is my earliest memory?"
"Only you know that!"
"Then tell me yours."
Elsa took a sip from her cup. "Are we deviating from the game?"
Anna shrugged. "I can't help it; I'm actually curious."
That was understandable. Elsa racked her brain for an answer, sifting through years of books and bookshelves, toys and people, until she finally reached one. She closed her eyes, concentrating, trying to remember the details. "I think… it was when we first met, actually."
Anna quirked an eyebrow. "Oh? Didn't we meet when I was born?"
"No," Elsa said. She could remember this much, because Gerda had told her. "You were born in Norway, and Mother brought you to Vancouver when you were one and a half, or so Gerda said."
"One and a half?"
Elsa nodded, "I don't know why," she added, anticipating Anna's next question. "But if you want to know of our first meeting, I'll tell you. It was somewhat an unforgettable experience for me." Although she didn't remember more than bits and pieces of it, she remembered the most important part.
Shuffling in her seat, Anna leaned her weight onto her elbows on the table, excited for a story.
Gerda was leading a three-year-old Elsa into her baby sister's room. Such a young Elsa hadn't understood the meaning of having a sister yet; she just thought she was going to meet a new friend, someone to play with.
"Your sister is very young, Elsa, so you have to be nice to her," Gerda said to her, as they rounded the corner to Anna's room. "And she can't speak, yet."
"But why?" Elsa asked, wide-eyed and curious.
"She hasn't learned how to speak yet, Elsa. Your mother was busy in Norway with other things, so she hasn't had the time to teach your sister how to talk properly," Gerda explained. "It's just like you how you have to learn the alphabet."
Gerda pushed open the door to Anna's room. Elsa didn't remember much else about it, only that Anna's crib was in the middle, and Elsa had heard soft cooing coming from it. Gerda had probably found a stool for her to stand on, so she could lean over the side of the crib and get a good look at her sister.
Elsa remembered wide, trusting eyes, more green than blue, unlike the teal they were now. She remembered noting that this girl, her 'sister', had looked so vulnerable, so delicate. Elsa had peered over the edge of the crib, curious, and Anna had smiled back at her, soft, plump mouth pulled back in a laugh, the precious sound still ringing in Elsa's ears.
Anna made noises at her, and Elsa hadn't understood. "What is she saying?" She asked Gerda.
"She hasn't said a real word yet. She's a bit of a late bloomer," Gerda had murmured softly. "She can only make these noises. Why don't you teach her to speak?"
So Elsa had turned to the child, her sister, in the crib, and grinned, "Hi, my name is Elsa. I'm your big sister."
Anna made more unintelligible noises at her, and Elsa giggled at her effort. "That's right; my name is Elsa."
"Ah-sah," the bundle of red hair had cooed. "Ehl-sah."
And at that moment, it was as if all time had frozen over. Elsa hadn't understood the entire meaning of it at that time, but she had felt something. She felt special. And she had never loved her name more than that moment, when it was so adorably uttered from the mouth of her sister.
Anna took in a sharp breath. "You mean—"
"That's right," Elsa said, grinning wildly at the memory, "Your first word… was my name."