A/N: Much thanks to Hunhund for her work in beta-ing the last chapter and this one as well.

Oh, god. "My first word… was your name?"

"Mmmmhm."

Anna slammed her head down onto the table, which would have thoroughly annoyed any remaining patron in the shop, but there were already none left from her earlier outburst with Ariel. Face firmly planted on the smooth birch, she wished that the ground would just swallow her up so she could huddle into the fetal position and wallow in her embarrassment forever.

She heard a voice, confused and concerned. "Anna? Are you okay?"

"How many of my firsts are you going to be," Anna grumbled into the wood, face still steadily enjoying its visit to tomato impression land.

"Sorry, what was that?" Elsa called again from somewhere above her.

"Nothing," she muttered, the wood against her face vibrating with the sound of her voice.

"Will you stop trying to eat the table? The barista is giving me weird looks. I'm not sure she's entirely supportive of whatever you're doing to their furniture."

Anna muttered something unintelligible and nonsensical in response, and turned her head to the side so that one cheek was pressed against the cool polish, still floundering about in her self-pity. How much more embarrassing could she get? First she apparently randomly kissed Elsa in a drunken stupor, now she had to find out that her first word was Elsa's name?

Something poked the top of her head. "Are you embarrassed?" Elsa asked innocently. "Why? I didn't even tell you about how I used to change your diapers for you. Did you know you wore diapers until you were four? Late bloomer, indeed."

Anna didn't need to look to know that Elsa was smiling; she could hear it in her voice. She groaned in response and didn't even allow her mind to wander there. Someone please kill me now.

"The Anna I know would wear her embarrassment proudly on her chest," Elsa chided softly, poking again at the mess of red hair lolling dejectedly on the table.

"Maybe if I weren't in love with you," Anna grunted under her breath, against the table, again.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing," she mumbled again, trying to dig her face deeper into the table.

"Oh, come on, Anna, it's not like you don't know embarrassing things about me," Elsa laughed and gently patted the top of Anna's head. "It's one of the perks of knowing each other for so long."

That was not a perk. That was a disadvantage. Elsa knew exactly how to embarrass her. "You're only saying that because you've barely had any embarrassing moments."

"I can't hear you very clearly with the table in your mouth, Anna."

There was a silence as Anna gloomily frolicked in her humiliation.

A bump resonated through the wood as Elsa put an elbow on the table. "Do you want to hear a joke?"

When the sullen redhead remained muted, Elsa continued, "Hey Anna, where does a fish keep his money?"

Anna twitched.

"A river bank."

At that, she cracked a smile, but Elsa couldn't see it.

"Hmm. Oh, you'll like this one. Why can't you borrow money from a leprechaun?" Elsa tapped the table with a knuckle in a failed attempt to prompt a response. "Because they're always a little short."

Trust Elsa to joke about money. But nevertheless a laugh bubbled up from within Anna, and she raised her head to stare incredulously at her smirking sister. "You are so lame," she scoffed, biting back another chuckle. That was an advantage of growing up together, though. Elsa always knew how to make her smile.

Elsa grinned unabashedly and shrugged. "You're lame for liking them," she retorted.

Anna presented her with a disapproving pout. "Your turn," she prompted.

"Do I get a point for the last one?"

"No," Anna snapped. And then grinned again. She recalled how Elsa detested puns and similar jests. "You get one for lightening up and telling a joke, though. Nice change of pace for you."

"At least I'm rewarded for making my brain cells commit suicide," the older girl deadpanned.

"Your question." Anna nudged Elsa's leg with her foot.

"It's a hard one," Elsa warned. "What's my favourite book?"

Oh, that was indeed a hard one. Anna couldn't remember half of the books that lived on Elsa's bookshelves at home. Most of them were monotonous biographies of successful business men, or complex calculus textbooks, or analyses of the stock market; her brain actively rejected them. Any words that flowed from those books hit her skull and bounced away, completely refused entry.

She knew the answer to this. She knew that she knew it. It was the one book in which the spine was creased and worn, which spoke to the amount of rereading its owner had done. Elsa was always careful with her texts; the pages and spines rarely ever had a single wrinkle or groove. Anna herself had discovered this one work of fiction in Elsa's room when the latter had been away at Oxford. The reason it was so hard for her to remember was no doubt the fact that she had absolutely hated it. She had hated the story, hated the ending, hated just the premise of it. But for some reason Elsa had liked it.

The name finally came to her.

"My Sister's Keeper," Anna blurted, blinking in astonishment at her own recollection.

Platinum eyebrows raised in surprise. Had Elsa not been expecting an accurate answer? "Wow," Elsa breathed. "You read it?"

Anna fixed her with a somber gaze. So she was right. That didn't make it any less disturbing. "Why do you like it? I hated it."

Elsa looked undisturbed at the announcement. "Of course you hated it," she said matter-of-factly, "You hate sad stories."

"So why do you like it?"

Elsa shrugged again. "It wasn't sad to me. I actually kind of envied the family. I wasn't the biggest fan of the ending though, that I'll admit."

Oh. Of course. Only Elsa would find a miserable tale about a self-sacrificing big sister and a selfish little sister to be a happy one.

"I envied how easy it was for them," Elsa added. "Like they just knew what they were supposed to do. And everything's okay, in the end. Because they had family, and friends. No one ends up alone. It's a sad ending but it's always okay, in stories."

Huffing a breath of disapproval, Anna shook her head in vehement disagreement. "You're missing the point of the story, Elsa. It wasn't easy for them. It wasn't easy for Kate (the older sister), it wasn't easy for Anna (the younger sister), and it wasn't easy for their parents. It was the conflict that I hated. Each of them, struggling to do what they thought was right, when really, there wasn't a right answer. And it's like that, sometimes. Sometimes there's no right answer, and we just have to pick an option and live with it. Life is like that."

"What are we talking about again?" Elsa sighed.

Despite being the older sister, Elsa could be so thick sometimes. "I like to think of it as two birds with one stone. I know why this is so hard for you to understand." Anna put down the pen and clasped her hands together. She didn't even want to think about it, but it was something that they would both have to face. She had come to realize that their father had forced his black and white sense of right and wrong on Elsa. Anna could relate to the feeling. Being punished, it must have meant she had done something wrong.

What did I do wrong?

That was a question she had asked herself countless times as she sat outside Elsa's door, wondering if it was something she did that caused her sister to put a sea of distance between them. But now she knew it wasn't her. Well, it wasn't just her. There were so many other reasons that Elsa had done it. The problem was, this concept of right and wrong, it was so subjective, and there were so many facets to it. Ethics, morals, laws, social perceptions.

But this wasn't a discussion that Anna wanted to get into on their first date. She imagined that were was a lot of damage done by her father that she needed to undo. "Choices are like onions, Elsa."

"They stink?"

"No!"

"They make you cry?"

"No!" Anna wanted to claw at the table in frustration. "There are layers. An onion is not a big block of vegetable. There are many layers that make it what it is." Wait, what was she talking about again? "Like a choice! It's not always one hundred percent 'right' or one hundred percent 'wrong'. There are a lot of layers to a decision, you know?" She hoped she sounded convincing. Halfway through she completely lost the point she was trying to make.

"Anna…" Elsa's voice was filled with intense concern. "… Are you high?"

"What? No!"

Elsa eyed her dubiously, skepticism plain in her sapphire eyes. "Well, we were talking about a book and now you're telling me about onions. Are you sure you're okay? I know you like Shrek, but there's no need to start talking like him. Should I expect you to be painting your face green and asking for a pet donkey?"

Anna gave a start as she realized she had just subconsciously channeled Shrek. Then she pushed that disturbing realization aside as she glared at her sister with blunted indignation. "Gah! That's not what I meant! Whatever, forget it. I got it right; I get a point." She picked up the pen again and tallied the marks on the napkin. "Oh look! I win!" She announced with a flair. "What do I get?"

Ice blue eyes rolled in exasperated sockets. "I suppose I owe you another wish?" Elsa tapped her chin as her features settled into a pensive expression. "How about I let you pick out the furniture?"

Anna beamed at her. Win or lose, she knew Elsa would no doubt have allowed her to do so anyway. And that was how she knew, wish or not, that Elsa would have given her whatever, as long as it made her happy. Though that was something Anna wanted to change, as touching as the sentiment was.

They moved to exit the coffee shop, and Anna's followed Elsa's gaze to Alistair's form outside the glass doors. "There was something I needed to tell you," Elsa whispered, looking down at their entwined hands. "But I have a feeling you know what it is without me having to say it."

Anna tilted her head to meet her sister's piercing sapphires, and nodded spiritedly. "Of course I do," she muttered back with exaggerated arrogance, "Who do you think I am?" Elsa wanted to keep this hidden between them. Of course she would; the damage this secret would do to her reputation as CEO, the consequences it would bring upon them from their mother—irreversibly destructive. At least for the time being, their relationship would have to be concealed.

She let go of Elsa's hand and sprinted out of the shop in her usual enthusiastic manner, "Last one there is a rotten snail!"

Apparently they had differing opinions of where 'there' was supposed to be. 'Picking out furniture' to Elsa meant a visit to their interior decorator, the world-renowned woman who had designed all the domestic adornments of Arendelle Manor, until Anna voiced her adamant 'suggestion', which was more like an insistence, of personally selecting all their furniture together. With extra emphasis on 'together'.

"But choices are like onions," Elsa had teased, which Anna had silenced with a pointed glare. "Okay, okay, bossy-pants, we'll do it your way," and she had swiftly surrendered. Which was still part of the problem. A glaring problem that signified the damage Anna wanted to mend.

And that was how they found themselves at Ikea, a large Swedish furniture retailer, browsing endless selections of desks, coffee tables, sofas, and chairs. Their bedrooms were also incomplete, save for the beds themselves and certain personal effects that were brought over from the Manor.

Currently perusing the dining room section of the store, Anna scanned her surroundings for the most unsightly table she could find. She finally spotted one, a dirty brown drop-leaf table that would completely destroy the atmosphere of their dining area. Smiling to herself, she bounded over to it. "I like this one," she declared.

Elsa followed, a mild confusion falling on her features as she scrutinized her sister's selection, eyes flicking between Anna and the table.

Yes, yes, that's right, you hate it! Tell me you hate it!

Then Elsa shrugged amiably, "Okay," and fetched a pencil to write down its address in the storage area of the large building.

Oh, come on! Anna gaped at her in disbelief, "But it's ugly! And it doesn't match the colour of our floor!"

Elsa paused, peering over the piece of paper that she was currently scribbling on, looking utterly baffled. "I thought you wanted it?"

This was not what she wanted. She wanted Elsa to argue with her. She wanted Elsa to voice her own opinion, to put her own desires first. As per Anna's instruction, Elsa had said that she deserved to be happy, but Anna wondered how much of Elsa actually believed it. She couldn't even fathom the idea that Elsa had spent more than half her life viciously depreciating herself, cruelly belittling herself to the point where the notion that she didn't deserve any form of happiness was so deeply ingrained in her.

And yet, here it was again, plain as day; Elsa was putting Anna first because she was still chasing some misguided conception that it made Anna happy, or that she didn't merit having her own opinion, or some outrageous mixture of both.

Anna wanted to seize Elsa by the shoulders and shake her until that damned misperception was permanently and eternally exorcized, but instead, she simply stated, "You don't want it."

The pencil resumed its scribble. "So?"

That was both a relief and a disaster. It was a relief because at least Elsa had honestly admitted she did, in fact, not like it. Baby steps.

It was a disaster because of the way Elsa had said it, so readily dismissing Anna's statement as if its truth had no value, no weight at all in the decision, setting alight hot flames in Anna's bones once again at the evidence of what their father had done. She struggled to reign herself in, though; it would not do if she kicked over all the dining tables and earned them a one-way trip to the exit. Patience. Patience was not the enemy. "So why didn't you tell me that?"

Elsa's eyes were fixed firmly on the paper. "It doesn't matter."

Anna resisted the urge to angrily stomp her foot. Compromise let her cross her arms instead. "Yes, it does! It matters to me what you think! And it matters to me that you always push aside what you want for me!" She took a step closer to her resigned sister, softening the tone of her voice, as if she were now coaxing a cornered animal. "You've always spoiled me. Let me spoil you back."

Elsa raised a pale gold eyebrow at her. "I do not spoil you."

"You gave me your dolls when you knew I'd end up destroying them," The accusation was voiced like it was an unlawful crime.

"I didn't like them anyway."

Yeah, right. "You'd let me pick the flavour of the cookies that Gerda baked." Save for once.

"You have good taste in cookies."

Anna was suddenly tempted to smack Elsa over the head. "You always pushed me on the swings."

"I like pushing."

She rolled her eyes. "You let me win staring contests just so I'd go to sleep."

"No, I fell asleep, too," Elsa shot back.

Then explain the foreign blankets I'd always find in the morning. "You always let me pick the movies we'd watch."

Elsa crossed her arms and grinned. "You have good taste in movies."

"You always let me have the first piece of a chocolate bar."

Elsa blinked, and her mouth twitched as she tried to conjure a comeback. "I don't have an excuse for that one," she admitted passively, slowly backing up against a concrete pillar.

"See." Anna grinned smugly at her victory, advancing on her retreating sister. "You spoil me."

Pale hands raised into the air in unconditional surrender as Elsa followed Anna's steps with her eyes. "We're really discussing whether I spoil you in the middle of a furniture store?"

Were they not in public, Anna would have pinned her against the solid pillar until she conceded instead of stopping three feet away. "Yes. Because you refuse to voice your opinion. Will you please tell me what you want? It kinda defeats the entire point of 'together' if I'm the only one picking."

"Just tell me what you want me to do," Elsa said, slumping, defeated, against the concrete.

There were many other things Anna wanted to do to Elsa when she was trapped against a compact surface like that, but none of them came to mind in her current mood. "That's the thing! I don't want to tell you to do anything! I want you to want to do things for yourself!" Anna knew this wasn't going to be easy, but it would've been a hell of a lot easier if Elsa weren't so oblivious.

"Are you trying to pick a fight with me?"

"No! Well… yes. No! Yes… no. Yes. Yes," she finally decided. "Kind of."

"Why is this so important to you? That I fight with you?"

"Because you've spent your entire life ignoring what you want for what I want. Sometimes they're mutually inclusive and sometimes they're mutually exclusive. The problem is, when they're mutually exclusive we don't argue! I've had a grand total of one real fight with you over what you want, and it was about what kind of chocolate to put in cookies when I was only five!" She did stomp her foot this time, eliciting curious glances and hushed whispers from all the other shoppers in the area.

But there were more important matters on her mind. "That argument we had three years ago. That was the most honest you've ever been with me and yourself. And you had to be so angry to let it out. I don't… I don't want that to happen again."

"It won't," Elsa interjected despondently. Obviously, the memory was unwelcome for her as well.

"And I don't want it to. But that's precisely why you need to talk to me, Elsa. Tell me what you want. Don't shut it all in, because sooner or later, you're going to end up resenting me for it. Fight, Elsa, fight for what you want. Please."

Before the dejected blonde could reply, she added, "I know old habits are hard to break. But I think we should make an effort to change. Starting now."

Then Elsa smiled at her, eyes full of warm admiration and… something else Anna couldn't distinguish. Love. Was it love? It was only there for a split second, swiftly replaced by mischief and compliance. "Okay. This table is hideous."

Anna gave her a lopsided grin in response, "Now we're getting somewhere."

Elsa sighed for the fifth time that night. They were huddled on their new white leather couch, chosen after an extensive discussion from both parties. To Anna's pleasant satisfaction, Elsa was making an effort to talk to her, to offer judgments and ideas, and it made the decisions all the more fun; their first date had ended on a more-than-agreeable note for both sides. Elsa brought up concerns and suggestions about each piece of furniture that would never have set foot in Anna's mind, and vice versa.

But right now, Elsa's attention was focused intently on the bright screen of her MacBook Pro, set snugly in her lap, and even though Anna couldn't see Elsa's face from her prone position against Elsa's shoulder, she could feel the unpleasant reactions to whatever the older girl was looking at.

Anna twisted on the couch to peer up at her sister, setting down the novel she had been reading on the spotless rounded glass coffee table. "What's up?"

"Hm? Sorry, did I disturb you?" Elsa's cheek was resting in an exasperated position against her fist, elbow digging into the soft arm of the brand-new leather sofa.

"No. But I can feel you deflating at least once every ten minutes. What's on your mind?"

Elsa sighed again. "The Board. The board of directors. They want to meet with me on Monday."

Anna ran a hand through her loose copper locks; corporate business often made her head itch. "Okay… and who are they?"

"They're a group of people who all hold significant shares, as in portions, of our company. Meaning, they each own a piece of the company."

Anna fiddled with her hands as she forced herself to absorb the information. She remembered reading vaguely about this a long, long, long time ago. "So, can't you ignore them? We still own the most shares, right?"

"Well, yes, we do, but they are able to re-elect a CEO if the current CEO underperforms. That is, if more than fifty percent of the shares are in agreement. They have the power to veto my decisions, because I'm not Chairman, the leader, of the board. Mother is."

Her brain was churning as it tried to digest all the information. "Mom is both CEO and Chairwoman?"

Elsa grunted. "Yes, but that doesn't mean she doesn't have to deal with them. The Chairwoman is selected by the board, too. I don't know how she managed it, but she holds both positions."

"So you're worried about meeting them?"

"Yes... because, well, the way Mother dealt with them… was mostly through blackmail and bribes. They're all greedy bastards, you see, so they take whatever's best for themselves."

"Hmm. So you really don't want to deal with them."

"Four of them, in particular."

Anna propped herself up on her elbows, half-floundering on the soft sea of down under smooth leather. "Tell me about them."

Elsa drew in a long breath, two slender fingers flicking on the trackpad of her laptop as she scrolled through pages of information and pictures. "First, there's Cruella De Vil: Notorious for collecting exotic leathers and skins; all she cares about is fashion and money. She owns the most shares out of everyone else on the Board, and she's also the most…" She struggled for the right word, "Bitchy. She snapped at Mother's heels every step of the way, and there's no doubt she'll bite even harder at mine."

Anna craned her neck to stare at the picture of the woman on the screen. The lady exuded arrogance, from her exquisite long fur coat to her various shiny accessories to the omnipotent smile plastered on her heavily powdered face. One glance, and all that screamed from the photo was that appearances and reputation meant everything to this person. Her expression turned into a grimace as she imagined this pretentious woman even looking at her sister.

"Next," Elsa continued, fingers tapping the track pad, "Shan Yu. Used to be a mercenary. He got his shares when he amalgamated his company with ours back in Father's day when Father wanted to expand to Asia and the black market. There are rumours of Shan Yu going all the way back to before we were born, about his modus operandi—whoever crosses him mysteriously vanishes shortly after, and while rumours are he's behind it, there's never any way to trace it back to him. He's the most coldblooded of all on the Board. But as long as money and power keeps flowing to him, he should keep off our backs."

The skin of the man glaring menacingly back at Anna from the screen was almost gray, eyes snakelike and unforgiving, irises more amber than brown, twin flints—like the visage of a voracious viper. His body was heavily muscled, starkly contrasting the stereotypical fat rich men that the word 'businessmen' always called to mind. Something about his expression made Anna shiver just looking at it; it was chilling and callous, almost inhuman. Elsa would have to deal with him, too? Anna was beginning to understand better and better why Elsa was dreading Monday.

"Last, but not least, there's Ursula and Morgana. Sisters, but they're nothing like us. They gained their wealth by tricking powerful men through contracts that are made with twisted words. I have a feeling that that's how they weaseled their way onto the Board, as well. They're manipulative, but they hide it behind eloquent words and enticing deals. Ariel hates them; I've been told that they and her father, President Triton, have had vicious disagreements in the past—"

"Will you be okay?" Anna blurted, diverting her eyes from the computer screen so as not to see the pair of sinister siblings with slimy black hair that would be smiling sadistically back at her.

"I've half a mind to run off to the Rockies and hermit there forever," Elsa said with a slight smile.

"I wouldn't mind going with you," Anna whispered back, mimicking the lighthearted tone. Then, more seriously, "What do they want from you, though?"

Elsa sank back against the warm embrace of the sofa cushions and let out a long, tired exhale. "I imagine they want to discuss with me my future plans for the company." She abruptly shut her laptop and placed it on the glass table, rubbing her temples as she contemplated her plans.

"What are they? If you don't mind me asking, of course," Anna added quickly, suddenly fearing that she would be encroaching on forbidden territory.

Elsa caught the note of panic in her voice and peered at her. "I don't mind at all. Just... why the interest all of a sudden? You never liked this stuff."

"Umm…" Biting her lip, Anna realized that she had accidentally directed the conversation to a subject that she'd rather remain hidden. "I just thought… we don't really have anything in common, so I wanted to learn… more… about…" You. Well, that was a reason, but not the main one.

Elsa cut her off with a quick kiss, and Anna could feel soft lips pulled into a slight smile against her own, instinct taking over immediately at the mind-numbing sensation. She crawled forward, dragging herself closer to Elsa, all the while keeping their lips locked, and felt an arm sling around her shoulders in response. Anna refused to let this be as infuriatingly teasing as the ones Elsa had given her that morning, so she aggressively pushed Elsa harder against the sofa as she pressed a tongue to Elsa's lips to demand entry, gleefully exploring Elsa's mouth when access was granted. Anna tasted vanilla and chocolate on Elsa, delightfully reminiscent of the ice cream they'd had for dessert that night.

There was a fire set alight in her belly again, and suddenly it was too hot, but she didn't care at all; she just wanted more, more, more, even if they would both be devoured by the fire as a consequence, and she stealthily slid onto the space on Elsa's lap previously occupied by the computer, desperately grasping at Elsa's shoulders to bring them closer together.

But Elsa broke the kiss (with a lot of effort) before things could escalate further, and Anna's brows furrowed in dissatisfaction, eyes still closed, and she brought her lips to trace the graceful curve of Elsa's jaw instead.

"Anna…"

Judging from Elsa's throaty tone, she obviously hadn't expected an inferno to be so easily ignited between them, hadn't expected it to be as if someone had thrown an incendiary grenade between them, hot flames lapping at their cheeks and spreading exponentially whenever their skin made contact.

Anna's chest heaved in sync with Elsa's as they both struggled for air. "That's for torturing me this morning," she breathed, voice unintentionally husky. Had it really been that morning? It felt much further away than that.

"Torturing you?" Elsa gasped, feigning hurt. "I was giving you clarification, just like you asked!"

"By holding back ninety-nine point nine percent of your feelings?"

Elsa's eyes narrowed into sapphire slits. "What I feel for you isn't lust, Anna. I don't want you to confuse it with that. I mean, it's there, but more as a byproduct of what I actually feel."

Anna opened her mouth to speak, only to be stopped by two pale fingers on her lips.

"Now, before you change the subject, I want to make it clear to you that I don't care if we have nothing in common. You are what I'm not. And that's all I need," Elsa gauged her response, eyes searching, "Also, I know you well enough to know that that isn't the real problem, Anna Arendelle. Why don't you tell me what's really bothering you?"

Apparently, Anna was an open book to Elsa. Anna shook her head in disappointment at how painfully transparent she was. And how did Elsa manage to make the atmosphere so mercurial? One moment it was serious, another it was scorching, and then serious again—all in a matter of minutes. But she finally conceded. After all, Elsa knew more embarrassing things about her than she could count. "It's not that I don't have an interest… exactly. I just… wasn't as good at it as you. So I pretended I didn't care to cover up my… incompetence. And I guess after years of pretending I didn't care, I really ended up thinking it had nothing to do with me."

She added with a stilted chuckle, "Mom and Dad gave me the impression that it wasn't really my place, anyway. So I stopped trying."

The sense of uselessness that came over her had caused her to look away, but she hadn't even noticed that she had done so until a hand came to caress her cheek and tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, then wrapping around her nape to yank her into another kiss. She gave a yelp of surprise that was promptly stifled by Elsa's lips moving fervently against hers, as if Elsa was trying to burn away her crushing feelings of ineptitude.

And she succeeded; the gnawing pit in Anna's stomach created by her suffocating sense of futility was chased away by another conflagration flaring from the embers left by the heat of the first kiss. Anna's fingers knotted in the base of Elsa's braid, eagerly reciprocating, feeding the hungry flames.

Then Elsa pulled away again, and damn it, it was never enough. Anna grumbled irritably at the loss of contact, eyes flying open in disapproval, and Elsa smiled as she realized the significance her actions had on her sister. "It is your place, if you want it. But only if you want it."

Anna only acknowledged the statement with a curt nod, and moved to initiate another kiss, but Elsa raised a hand to stop her.

"Wisely, and slow," Elsa whispered, "They stumble that run fast."

Anna could only make another sound of annoyance through the thick fog of desire in her mind. "Why are you quoting Shakespeare at a time like this?"

Elsa returned a noise of satisfaction as she, once again, brushed locks of molten copper from Anna's eyes, "I was told that Shakespeare is romantic," she joked.

"The Friar is hardly romantic," Anna retorted, still unsatisfied.

Continuing with her jest, Elsa replied, "Mm, but he did conduct a marriage." On a more serious note, she asserted, "I'm pretty sure normal people don't kiss like this after the first date."

Anna grinned at her, "Normal people don't go home and find they live in the same house after the first date, either."

"All I'm saying is we should take it slow." All of a sudden, Anna could make out fear and uncertainty brewing in that captivating azure sky. "Heaven knows how confused I was when I first… had these feelings. And how blurred the line is, still, between best friend, sister, and girlfriend."

She tried to put a reason to that hesitation in Elsa's eyes. "Are you afraid that I'm not sure of what I feel?"

"Can you say for sure that you don't want to attach yourself to me with something more, after I've so cruelly neglected you for the past fourteen years? Can you say for sure that the feelings you have for me are romantic? They may be different from three years ago, but we're different, too." When Anna tried to protest, Elsa interrupted, "I know so well the feeling of regret, Anna, you have no idea. And the last thing I want is for you to do something that you'll regret."

"Mmmm… does that mean I have no chance of sleeping with you tonight?"

When Elsa turned pale white, enough to blend into the wall that the couch was set against, Anna burst out with a jovial laughter. "Kidding! I didn't mean that kind of sleeping when I said sleeping, anyway. I get it. I don't want you to do anything you'll regret, either. Even though it's in my blood to rush headfirst into things… I'll make an exception, for you."

She remembered something with a sharp gasp, the sudden stiffing of her spine jostling the bewildered blonde beneath her; in a flash, she hopped off of Elsa's lap, and disappeared, with a figurative cloud of dust, into her room. She was back just as quickly as she'd left, before Elsa could even react, with a small blue gift box in her palm. "This is for you—consider it a get-well present."

Elsa blinked a couple of times to fully register what just happened, and graciously took the offered box. "Anna, you shouldn't have. I'm the one who's supposed to be getting you a present."

Anna waved her off, "Forget it; I've done enough receiving. Open it!"

With the utmost care in the world, Elsa removed the top half of the box, revealing a glimmering silver chain with a shiny piece of golden orange imperial topaz, fashioned into an elongated pear-like cut, flashing a dazzling orange under the warm champagne lights of the ceiling lamps, its outline bordered by a smooth platinum coating.

"You got me… a carrot," Elsa declared slowly, more to herself than her single audience member.

Anna unhooked the Olaf necklace from around her neck, and slid it under the orange topaz carrot, the gleaming vegetable snapping into place with a pop. She grinned in satisfaction at her handiwork; she'd specifically designed the carrot so that it'd fit within the contours of Olaf's profile.

She watched, content, as comprehension settled in Elsa's ice blue irises, and the blonde smiled at her, because now, they both knew that Olaf was complete, just as they were.