Elsa draped an arm over her eyes as one leg twisted into the sheets again, trying to find a comfortable position so that her brain would allow her to sleep. Her efforts were futile, however, as Anna's question came floating back into her head like a rash that wouldn't go away.
Does that mean I have no chance of sleeping with you tonight?
The effect on her was no less devastating than that of when she first heard it. Her heart leapt into her throat with jarring ferocity, and a disconcerting fever rushed between her legs at the thought of sleeping with Anna.
At that, she promptly flung away the covers and crawled out of bed, reaching for her crutches to sneak, as silently as she could, into the living room, lest she give in to the overwhelming temptation to dig a hand between her legs. She would not condone that. Not that.
If it weren't for the certainty that she had lady parts, she would have been convinced that she was actually a teenage boy; she without a doubt had the libido of one. She was not lusting after Anna. She was not. She refused to. The mere thought of making her sister an object of sexual desire was disturbing, disgusting, even, because Anna was so innocent, so trusting, that it filled Elsa to the brim with revulsion at even having these repulsive thoughts about her.
She wanted to. There was no way she wouldn't want to. Anna was so perfect—honest, sincere, fair—everything that Elsa was not. And that just made her even more disgusted with herself. The last time she had even broached the subject of sex was with Ariel, and that was due to the fact that she wanted to forget, to cleanse, to purge herself of these feelings for Anna. She had used, manipulated, exploited her friend as a means to an end. At this point, she couldn't even believe that she had done such a thing. It made her feel dirty and depraved. It was so shameless, underhanded; what gave her the right, now, to have what she wanted?
Guilt wasn't the only thing on her mind. Every time she contemplated the reality that she was in a relationship with Anna, something that she would never have even allowed herself to dream of, her mind was flooded of every scenario that could take place once Anna saw her scars.
Her scars. The reason that she couldn't bear to look in the mirror whenever she steps out of the shower. Just another reminder of her mistakes, her imperfection, of how she always disappointed everyone around her without fail.
She hadn't even given Ariel a full view of her back. Although Ariel's fingers had brushed passed them to discover their presence, Elsa had never given her any explanation as to why they existed, and the older girl had been perceptive enough to know that Elsa did not want to discuss them.
How would Anna feel about them? Repulsed, disillusioned, outraged, because Elsa couldn't give her an unblemished body with a clean history? Would Anna feel deceived, betrayed, swindled, because she had such an insistent perception of Elsa being a perfect, beautiful, role model?
Her hand flew to her neck to finger the shape of the carrot Anna had given, and its existence once again reassured her that it was really there. A carrot. Anna had given her a carrot. When they built Olaf together, Anna was always the one who completed him with the bright orange vegetable. And she had always been so adamant about it too, insisting that a snowman was not a snowman without a proper nose.
She was scared. Deathly scared. Terrified of disappointing her sister, the one person who has always been with her, for as long as she could remember. Terrified of turning those twinkling turquoise eyes into bitter, tearful ones. But above all, she was terrified that Anna's sincere, candid face would turn into a grimace trying to hide her revulsion. The scars would no doubt inflict all of the above and more, and Elsa couldn't decide which was worse.
She stared out into the dark night through the clear glass walls, her heartbeat steadily calming with each stroke of the melancholy waves lapping at the banks of the ashy beach below. With a soft sigh, she let her forehead rest against the cool window pane, eyes still focused on the pensive reflection of moonlight on ocean tide, soothed by nothing but the sound of her own breathing in the somber silence of nightfall.
The muffled lulling crashes of surf against shore in the distance was enough to remind her of a time she had resolutely considered ending it for good, acknowledging how easy it would be to walk down the path of sand that led straight to the water, how easy it would be to wade into the water, until her head was no longer above the surface. How easy it would have been to just stay down there and never come out.
But she hadn't. Why hadn't she?
Did she even need to answer that question? The answer was obvious.
The answer was also suddenly walking out of her room, rubbing her eyes wearily as she appeared in a loose white t-shirt and pajama pants.
Elsa turned as the pitter-patter of bare feet against hardwood resounded in her ears, slightly alarmed and chagrinned, asking quietly, "Sorry, did I wake you?" A quick glance at the pendulum wall clock told her that it was almost two hours past midnight. Had she been tossing and turning that long?
"No," Anna mumbled, approaching tactfully, "You didn't. I couldn't sleep."
"Me neither," Elsa admitted.
"Were you thinking about the Board? Nervous?"
That, among a million other things. "I'm fine."
"Don't lie to me."
She flinched.
"You don't have to have it together all the time, Elsa." Anna sighed. "At least, not in front of me. You never did tell me what you were planning to present to them."
That was right; they'd parted for bed not long after she received Anna's gift, both of them agreeing that it had been a long day and they needed rest. Apparently, both of them had also lied about that; judging from the telltale ruffle of ginger hair, Anna had also had a restless night, presumably not for the same reasons as Elsa.
Elsa diverted her attention back to the panoramic view of the Pacific before her, hands tightening their hold on her crutches. But she felt comfortable enough, in front of Anna, to confess, almost inaudibly, "I have no idea."
But the night was serene enough for even hushed tones to broadcast, and Anna reacted by moving closer, innocently touching a hand to Elsa's shoulder. "You'll be fine; I'm sure. No one works harder than you."
"Sometimes hard work is not enough, Anna," muttered Elsa, sullenly. "I could work hard at memorizing all the biographies on my laptop and I still wouldn't have the faintest clue what I should say to them."
"What would Mom do?"
She let out an exasperated exhale. "That's the thing. Mother would probably ambitiously set her sights on conquering a new company, or destroying the competition, or moving into a new industry that has a truckload of potential but…"
"… But you don't want to do any of that," Anna finished, visibly unperturbed.
Yes, Elsa realized. That was exactly the problem. She had absolutely no interest in anything Arendelle Corp offered—gemstone excavation, alcohol distillation, crude oil extraction, lumber preparation, automobile construction, designer clothing production, electronics assembly—none of those industries piqued the least bit of curiosity in her. They were all her father's, her mother's, her grandfather's, great-grandfather's accomplishments; they meant nothing to her, thus the lack of motivation to bolster the significance of any of them. Their dreams, not hers.
"Go back to sleep, Anna," She said instead.
"You're awake, so I'm awake," Anna replied cheerfully, blinking up at her.
Elsa sensed that she wasn't about to win this argument; she never did, when it came to a battle of obstinacy—or did she not want to? In any case, she relaxed in silent resignation. "You're right."
It didn't bother Anna at all, it seemed. In fact, the girl seemed to have been expecting it. Was Elsa that transparent?
As if anticipating her older sister's thoughts, Anna commented, "I didn't think you wanted to. Dad never asked you what you wanted. But I'd like to ask. What do you want to do?"
When the air remained steeped in pensive silence, Anna added, "Didn't you have dreams, when you were a kid? Even silly ones, like wanting to be an astronaut, doctor, power ranger, firefighter? Superman, Batman, or Spiderman?"
Elsa had, but with the fourteen years of crushing suppression in between, she couldn't remember what they were anymore. Even the possibility that they had existed felt like a dream to her now. They had only been stupid fantasies, after all.
In fact, her dreams now were, more often than not, torturous nightmares. The positive connotation of the word 'dream' had long since been brutally murdered.
Anna dropped her hand from Elsa's shoulder and reached for the fist clenching the bars of a crutch instead. "Nothing?" She prompted.
"I'm sorry I'm so boring," Elsa alleged bitterly.
Anna frowned at her skeptically. "I don't believe you. Dreams are like stars; they're always there, even if you can't see them."
That elicited a small chuckle. Elsa decided to play along. "You're also implying that they appear when it's darkest."
"And clear. They only appear when it's clear, but they're always there. So, what are yours, Elsa Arendelle?"
"I lost them," Elsa finally conceded, shedding the words as if they had been holding her down. She chewed on her bottom lip, hoping that she did not sound as crushed as she felt. "I lost sight of them."
Anna grabbed her hand, ripping it from its grip on the crutch. "Come with me." Then fiercely she tugged her bewildered sister toward the exit of their residence.
"Anna, we're not dressed to go out!" When her efforts to stop her sister proved to be in vain, Elsa let out another sigh as she let Anna lead them to the fire exit stairwell of the condominium. "Uh, I can't…" She stared at the stairs and wiggled the single crutch that she still had in her possession; the other one was abandoned on the floor of their room.
"You can," the redhead insisted decisively, tucking herself under Elsa's arm to help her sister up the stairs. "Besides, the elevators don't go where we're going."
"And where are we going?" Selecting to grip the handrail instead, Elsa dismissed her remaining crutch as she heaved herself up the steps. Thankfully, her recklessness in and outside of her father's study hadn't impeded the recovery of her leg too much; the week that had passed between commissioning Mark to find them a new place and actually moving in after the paperwork had allowed enough regrowth of bone to permit slight pressure.
Anna opened the door at the top of the stairwell; again, thankfully their condo was only one flight of stairs from the roof of the building.
"Is this where you kill me?" Elsa asked warily, hopping on one leg as Anna turned to fetch the discarded crutch. She peered around cautiously; there were no rails to prevent prospective…drops, and the distance to the ground was about sixty stories. Any stray cars that were speeding down the streets looked like toys, small and insignificant. She could see the rest of the city from here, a mass of towering office buildings, each peppered with windows of bright lights, so near the water that the reflected glows sparkled like diamonds.
"Stop looking down, Elsa," Anna grumbled as she took her place by Elsa's side near one side of the roof, tucking the crutch securely under the blonde's arm. "You're making me nervous, standing so near the edge."
"Where else am I supposed to look?" Elsa answered grudgingly. A hand came to rub the elbow of the arm holding the crutch as a cool breeze encircled them, carrying all the scents of the night.
Anna pulled on her, persuading her into a sitting position on the concrete, then into a sprawl, flat on her back, as their heads gently rested onto the cement, loose locks mixing into a mass of ruby and golden chrome. She pointed. "Up."
Elsa's eyes followed the direction the finger was indicating, and she let out a sigh of disappointment. "You can't see stars from here, Anna. The city lights are too bright."
"Shh." A hand pushed her head back into a position to absorb the night sky. "Look harder."
She rolled her eyes, but did as she was told. A blinking glimmer appeared in the black velvet, followed by another, and another. They form a necklace of ice crystals nestled in obsidian. She shook her head. "Those are just helicopter lights. Or aircraft landing lights."
Anna blew out a breath of impatience. "That's not the point. They're whatever you want them to be. You're supposed to use your imagination."
The air was only disturbed by the lulling melody of ocean tide, until Anna spoke again. "So, anything? Dreams you want to tell me about?"
Elsa pressed her fingers against the rocky surface beneath them, poring over her memories. Anna was trying so hard, being so patient, which was very unlike her. The least Elsa could do was give her a satisfactory answer. To her pleasant surprise, one came to her. Faint, barely hanging onto life, but there. "Infinity," she said. She turned her head to face Anna. "Do you remember what that is?"
Ginger brows furrowed in confusion for a moment, and then relaxed as recognition followed by a wide grin crept across Anna's features. "Word of the day."
Elsa nodded.
"I knew you had it in you."
"Oh, come on, Elsa! We're still using the word if we name something after it!"
Eight-year-old Elsa peered back at the room where her abandoned composition, practice with the word 'infinity', lay. Her hand, the one that was still clutched in her sister's grasp, twitched at the temptation to withdraw and return to her assignment.
"Besides, Daddy comes back tomorrow. He won't let you play."
Blue eyes floated back to the bubbly ginger mass of bouncing hair before her, and immediately, she surrendered. She was going to fail him again, but Anna always had some way of chasing away all of her self-discipline. Making her laugh on the way to self-ruin. "Do you even know what the word 'infinity' means?"
Anna puffed out her cheeks as she settled into her version of 'deep thought'. Half a second later, she shook her head, pigtails whipping the air. "Nope!" She exclaimed happily, giving Elsa a wide smile, showing off her missing bottom tooth.
Only Anna could be this happy about flaunting her ignorance. The smile however, was infectious as always, and Elsa found herself unconsciously curling her lips in response as she followed her sister into their playroom. "It means without end. No limit."
"That's perfect!" Anna declaring jubilantly, knocking over a large box of Lego, spilling its contents across the floor.
Joining her sister on the carpeted floor, Elsa could only stare; it was her turn to be confused. "What's perfect?"
"The name! For what we're making!"
She didn't even have time to understand what Anna meant as she helped Anna gather all the pieces into a concentrated area, and watched the redhead get to work on a large, green, piece of flat Lego. "What are we making?"
"A park!"
"A park?"
Anna nodded energetically. "With rollercoasters and stuff! That stuff we see on TV!"
"An amusement park?"
Turquoise eyes glowed. "Yes!" Anna squealed, enthusiastically sticking piece after piece into place.
It had taken an entire day, but they had completed an amusement park out of Lego, a sprawling mass of coloured blocks. Plastic people were sprinkled along the paths, always in fours or threes or pairs, no one ever left alone. Their faces always smiling and exuberant. Who cried in an amusement park?
After triumphantly naming it 'Infinity', they were forced to separate for bed. The next day, when their father returned, Anna had showed it to him, and he shook his head, asserting, "Amusement parks don't turn a good profit, Anna." And he had looked at Elsa pointedly.
Faint and distant, but that was the first time she had experienced a drive for anything company-related. Some compelling force, deep in her heart, telling her that she could, should, must make this come true. Because she had loved it. The idea, the name, even if she hadn't understood then why Anna wanted to call it 'Infinity', she loved it, because it was something she and Anna had created together. There was passion, enthusiasm; it was something she wanted to do, not something she was forcing herself to do. But, like everything else that made her who she was, she had buried it and released the ashes in that study.
But she knew now why Anna wanted to call it that. Infinity. Limitless. Endless. Because to them, rollercoasters, cotton candy, and arcade games represented a place of boundless happiness, a place of family, a place where no one was ever alone, or denied fun. A place to which parents brought their children to remind them of how much they were loved. A place that has always existed only in dreams, for Anna and Elsa. A place every kid dreamed of.
"It was like the night sky to me," Anna said suddenly. "Infinity. Freedom."
Elsa looked at her curiously. "I fail to see how night represents freedom."
"It's a blank canvas," Anna whispered. "When I was a kid I could paint anything onto it. Dreams. We'd go places, everywhere, and I'd see them in the stars. Endless possibilities. I'd imagine you beside me in every one of them, and it would all be okay. I could pretend you didn't hate me—"
"I don't. Didn't. Never will." Elsa quickly protested. The words were jumbled in her haste to deny the statement, but that didn't make them any less true.
"And I know that now," Anna murmured with a smile, eyes glowing brighter than the stars above.
"It doesn't make up for the past," Elsa continued, still hasty, "I can't repair all the damage done, nor can I return to you all the time we lost together—"
"We'll just have to compensate by making more memories together from now on," Anna decided. "I think you should do it."
"Do what?"
"Build Infinity."
The thought of deviating from the tracks left by her mother reawakened the butterflies in Elsa's stomach. Even after all this time, she hadn't considered the company to be a thing that was actually hers. Maybe that had something to do with the fact that she still didn't want it. "It's not that easy—"
"Sometimes, the difficulty is only in your head. You'd be surprised what you can do once you stop telling yourself, 'I can't'. And heaven knows you say that way too much."
She crossed her arms over her midsection and turned her attention back to the stretch of inky sky above. A smile unexpectedly surfaced as she imagined young Anna, eyes wide and playful, restlessly tracing pictures from star to star like a connect-the-dots puzzle with an outstretched hand. She unconsciously extended a hand toward the sky, as if trying to touch it would give her answers. "Hey, Anna?"
"Hmm?"
She dropped her hand. "Do you think stars are ever lonely? They never appear in pairs, do they?"
Anna turned, scooting closer, and rested her head on her arm. She giggled. "You sound like a little kid, Elsa."
"Humour me."
"If you'll stop deflecting."
After Elsa gave her a quick mutter of agreement, Anna answered, "I don't think they're ever lonely. Think about this. A struggling artist in Paris. A misunderstood adolescent girl in Los Angeles. An old man sitting out on the countryside in China. You, in England. Me, here. We all look to the same stars; their light gives us hope, their independence gives us courage, and in return, we cherish them. We watch them, we appreciate them. And they connect us. And because of that, they're never lonely. They're never alone."
"You know, I was thinking the same thing. We're all under the same sky."
Their hands involuntarily laced together, as if it was the default position: together.
"That's why I want you to do it, Elsa. Build that dream. Just like the stars, you'll be making so many people happy, yourself included. Imagine a family of four who spends most of their hours separated, kids at school, parents at work, taking a vacation to Infinity, making up for lost time. Imagine a couple who visit Infinity, and dream about one day sharing it with their kids. Imagine a group of friends, walking through the gates and wishing that that moment would last forever. Imagine us, finally getting to visit an amusement park for the first time in our lives.
"The question is, Elsa: do you want to?"
She squeezed Anna's hand in appreciation, and weighed the question in her mind, as if she could put a numerical value to how much she wanted to. And she was surprised that she couldn't help but conjure this unshakeable image of the amusement park, life-like and just as vibrantly colourful as its Lego prototype, its grounds filled with laughing children, smiling parents, friendly workers and carefree adolescents, not a soul alone or despairing. And most importantly, Anna, by her side, both of them freed from the burdens of inheritance, where they could just be.
Everyone would forget about worldly anxieties: money, food, shelter, power; that was not the mindset one brought to a place of fun.
She smiled. "It seems to me that all dreams have the same goal in mind."
Anna quirked an eyebrow. "It's the journey that makes the destination worthwhile, isn't it?"
"Yes. I think that's true."
"Then don't be afraid that it's going to be difficult. Because the more difficult it is, the more satisfying the result will be. Besides, I'll be right by your side every step of the way, making sure Mrs. De Vil doesn't chew on your ankles."
Somehow, the night had taken a completely unexpected turn, but Elsa had learned to welcome the unpredictable, especially when she was with Anna. She certainly hadn't anticipated having a profound discussion about stars when she slipped out from under her covers. Now with at least some form of a goal in mind, she was feeling all sorts of buoyant, despite the rocky gravel pressed against her back and the cool summer flurry buffeting her loose bangs.
She stifled a yawn. "There's a lot of work to get done if I want to have a decent proposal by Monday, so we better go home."
Anna beamed at the word 'home', and nodded her assent.
She should go visit Elsa. Like right now.
No! Focus!
Anna fidgeted in her seat for the millionth time that morning, finding herself too thoroughly distracted to pay any attention to whatever Ms. Corona was prattling on about with regard to Shakespeare's Hamlet. Normally her attention would be fully committed to dissecting the meaning behind language that Shakespeare used in Hamlet's soliloquies but today, about a dozen butterflies were doing the tango in her stomach.
Elsa would be presenting her plan to build Infinity soon, if that clock on the wall was accurate. Anna wasn't even going to be there, nor was she going to participate, so why was she breaking into a cold sweat? She was probably more jittery about this than Elsa was.
On either side of her, Aurora and Rapunzel were exchanging befuddled looks as to why Anna was shifting about in her seat as if she were sitting on a floor of marbles.
"Are you feeling okay?" Rapunzel asked, hushed so that Ms. Corona would not decide to request that they translate the entirety of Hamlet's last soliloquy to modern English as punishment for being disrespectful.
Yes, that was it! Anna's eyes focused on the middle knuckle of the hand that was clenched in her lap as a plan formed in her churning mind. She could pretend that she was not feeling well for an excuse to the nurse's office and then get her driver to take her to Elsa's office. And then…
She pushed those thoughts away. And then what? What could she do for Elsa, if she were there? She couldn't present Elsa's proposal, she couldn't even effectively defend Elsa's dream, simply because she knew next to nothing about economics.
Nevertheless, there was a burning flame lapping away at her self-control, because she just wanted to be next to her sister. Even if it did nothing of use, she just wanted to be there.
So caught up in her thoughts that she missed Ms. Corona's question, not even registering the fact that she had been posed a question until Rapunzel elbowed her in the side.
Her head raised immediately, rudely pulled back to the present. "Sorry, Ms. Corona, what was that?"
"I was just wondering, since Hamlet's contemplation of life or death is so uninteresting to you, perhaps you'd like to offer a satisfactory translation of the entire soliloquy?" Ms. Corona said, peering over her round-rimmed glasses.
Anna straightened. "Oh, uh, 'to be or not to be'… that means… to be… here, or not to be… here." She gasped. "Uh! I can't be here, right now!" Anna wondered if she were coherent at all.
Ms. Corona looked at her curiously. "Is there somewhere else you need to be?"
She didn't even have the brain capacity left to snicker at the pun, as many of her classmates were doing. Anna was already gathering her textbook and papers, rapidly shoving them into her backpack. "Sorry! I've gotta go." She waved a hasty goodbye to her friends and English teacher, awkwardly backing out of the classroom. "I need to get going—I've gotta go. I need to go. Bye!"
She hastily texted an explanation to Rapunzel during the car ride to the downtown office. It was the end of the year already; surely, she could be excused a few more times for being absent due to family reasons. Her thumbs fumbled over her phone as she pondered whether to tell Elsa that she was on her way. She ultimately decided against it; Elsa had enough to worry about as it was.
Ariel wouldn't be there today, and the realization of that spurred the fluttering butterflies that were wreaking havoc on her insides.
Then the apprehensions that have been plaguing her since yesterday added fuel to the fire. What if Elsa was viciously rebuked for the idea? What if the Board didn't like it? What if, what if, what if. And Anna was responsible for it; after all she was the one who had convinced Elsa that this was a good idea. That meant any negative consequences that Elsa incurred today would be due to Anna's indiscretion as well.
She crept through the large rotating doors of Arendelle Corp's headquarters, making a beeline for the elevators, in case some guard labeled her as suspicious and tried to remove her from the premises. Luckily, she made it to the top floor without much impediment, where her next obstacle came in the form of Gustav, her mother's PA.
"Ms. Anna, if you are here to see the President, I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to wait," He told her, actively blocking her access to the only route that lead to the conference room where Elsa's presentation in front of ten other corporate heads was undoubtedly taking place.
The President. For some odd reason, Anna very much liked how that title described Elsa. It sounded powerful, majestic, regal. Very befitting for her image of Elsa. Anna would have to take to calling her that when they were in private too, just to see how that status would roll off her own tongue when addressing Elsa as such.
For now, she would have to find some way to deter this hurdle. In an attempt to look undaunted, she crossed her arms and defiantly stared up at the Norwegian man. "I won't go in," she said, "or disturb the meeting in any way. I'm just going to listen."
He looked back at her, then at the ground, tapping his foot as he mulled over his options. Elsa's reactions to Anna's habitual visits had told him that Elsa would have never denied Anna entry. He finally lifted his head with a deep breath, and nodded toward the door directly behind him. "There's a camera in the conference room that feeds directly to a monitor in the President's office. I'll bring you a coffee."
The way he quickly scurried off before she could tell him that she'd prefer water instead raised another alarm in Anna's mind. Was he… afraid of her? No, not of her, but more of… Elsa, and by extension, Anna as well. Or maybe he was afraid of their mother, and that fear extended to them; perhaps he believed intimidation and blackmail ran in the family.
And the discrepancy between who Elsa really was and who her workers—Gustav, at the very least—thought she was almost comical in its oceanic size. The Elsa that Anna knew would never hurt a soul for the sake of personal gain, yet others seemed to think that that came naturally to Elsa. That was something else Anna needed to fix; their mother may have believed that having a reputation as a cold and heartless dictator was beneficial in retaining control, but Anna had a different opinion.
She pushed open the door to her mother's office—Elsa's, for now, though she could tell that Elsa hadn't used it—and was met with all the glory of downtown Vancouver in the vibrant daylight. The wall of the room that faced the outside, it was entirely made of glass, and the building was high enough that she towered above all the other structures of the city. She stared, mouth agape, at the breathtaking view granted to her, a clear panorama of the Pacific all the way to Vancouver Island.
Gustav brought in her coffee then, turning on a large flatscreen that took up most of the space on an adjacent wall, and fiddled with the remote until the image of the screen showed the pale grey conference room, ten board members seated around a vast U-shaped table, with Elsa at its apex. The camera in the room must have been in one of the corners of the ceiling, then, its eye capturing all the faces of Elsa's audience.
A woman, one whose identity was immediately revealed by her extravagant fur coat, was speaking. "So I take it you've dealt with Falk Industries, then? Bled the old man dry?" Her voice was chilling, its charity a toxic artificial. Anna was suddenly glad that she was not the one who had to deal with this lady, and then viciously berated herself for such blasphemous thoughts.
"No, Ms. De Vil. I've offered him a different contract," Elsa replied coolly, her resilient demeanor seemingly unfazed. "I do recall sending you a copy."
"I was hoping that was some sort of joke," said Cruella, eyes narrow and scrutinizing. "Why offer him sponsorship when you could have him relinquish all of his remaining assets to us?"
The answer was obvious to Anna; Elsa must not have wanted to take more from Walter Falk, having practiced mercy upon the old man in light of all his misfortunes, one son in a coma, the other in prison.
"I believe his experience in the oil industry will be more valuable than his material assets," Elsa replied, voice even, not betraying a shred of uncertainty. "It will prove beneficial to have him indebted to us."
A portly man, whom Anna recognized to be Kai Evenstad, was nodding his approval. She'd seen him visiting Arendelle Manor often, when her father was still alive. "Walter Falk has dabbled in oil refinement for many decades," he offered.
"True, but he may seek vengeance for his children."
It took Anna a while to put a face to the low menacing voice that resounded from the television, but she finally reconciled the guttural growl with the face of Shan Yu, looking just as robust and aggressive as she remembered from his picture.
He spoke again. "We should take advantage of his vulnerable position, and extinguish any flame of rebellion in the bud."
"Still, I prefer not to turn things hostile unless it is absolutely necessary," Elsa declared firmly.
"Enough of that for now," said a slimy, raspy voice. "We'll let things… simmer for a while, and we can decide whether Ms. Arendelle's decision is sound when we reconvene next month."
Anna's attention was focused on the two sisters at the table, one horizontally challenged and the other horizontally inclined. Despite their difference in body weight, one could easily tell that they were related, from their phantom white skin to their long, greasy locks.
"We'd like to see your plan for the next six months, Ms. Arendelle," the bony one, Morgana, Anna presumed, hissed.
"I'd like for us to move into the theme park industry," announced Elsa, and Anna watched as Mark passed folders to each of the members of the meeting.
"Your father specifically wanted to avoid industries that are reliant on consumer pleasure," Cruella remarked, eyes scanning the contents of the folder. The result of all the research Elsa was doing Sunday, most likely.
"Today, entertainment and recreation are one of the world's fastest growing markets. My father disliked the uncertainty of the entertainment industry, for its success is entirely built upon consumer preference. However, amidst all the turmoil and chaos in the present day, there is a growing demand for sanctuaries that provide bliss and comfort to its users, for havens that allow escape from reality."
Anna smiled proudly, as if that was her own child, not her older sister, so confidently presenting her argument to the notoriously troublesome Board of Directors. This was the same girl who was afraid to dream, Anna thought. How could Elsa be so many things all at the same time? A nervous, hopeless wreck one moment, and a credible, powerful speaker the next.
Hushed whispers shuddered across the table as the board members absorbed Elsa's logic. There were murmurs of dissent, among the mumbles of esteem, namely coming from Cruella De Vil, Shan Yu, and the grey sisters, as Anna had taken to calling them.
"There is more potential in expanding in the jewelry and fashion industries," Cruella argued. "You have presented the aspirations of a child, not an adult. Do you realize how much money we could lose if you fail? You have no experience in running a company, much less moving into a new industry. I, for one, am against this."
"I, too, believe that we should focus more of our attention on trades that are more our specialty. We've never tinkered with toys before, nor should we ever," Shan Yu grunted, reclining in his chair, crudely thrusting his dirt caked boots onto the table.
"Maybe you should spend less time dreaming with that airheaded sister of yours, and more time in careful consideration. What was your mother thinking, leaving the two of you in charge of a company as influential as this?" Ursula goaded, after an exchanged look with Morgana.
Anna bristled at the jeer in the same moment as Elsa did. Calm, cool, levelheaded Elsa, who had shown nothing but tolerance the entire meeting, narrowed her eyes, and Anna could see her figurative hackles rising. "That is none of your concern," Elsa bit out, eyes hard as flints. She looked like she had wanted to contend further, with a damaging insult of her own, but she managed to reign herself in. Anna breathed out a sigh of relief; she certainly didn't want Elsa to make enemies with her Board of Directors.
"In my opinion, Ms. Arendelle brings out many good points about the state of today's world. It may do our business, and our public relations some good if we 'tinker with toys', as Mr. Yu so aptly pointed out," Kai interjected. The whispers at the table died down with his comment, representing just how much influence the seemingly harmless man had on his audience. A majority of the board nodded in agreement, leaving dissatisfied scowls on the faces of the opposing members.
"I am by no means agreeing with this," Cruella sneered, collecting her things. "And if you make one wrong move, I will petition to have you removed."
"I understand," Elsa said amicably, her rage dissipated—but by no means forgotten, Anna thought, judging from the flicker of distaste that crossed her face, as Cruella De Vil left the room, clacking heels punctuating her departure.
"I second Ms. De Vil's opinion," Shan Yu rumbled. "One step, and we will remove your family's right of inheritance from the presidential throne."
"Well, I'd say this meeting is adjourned," Kai proclaimed, removing himself from his seat as well. "Until next month, ladies, gentlemen."
Anna watched as they filed out of the room, leaving only Ursula, Morgana, and Elsa in the room. She had a sudden urge to burst into that conference room and throw rude profanities at the grey sisters for their insolence, but she forced herself to keep watching as Morgana leaned over and whispered something into Elsa's ear, eliciting a strained neutral expression from the blonde. Then they bade a giddy, too giddy farewell to Elsa, shutting the door behind them.
As soon as the last of the board members departed in the elevators, Anna darted out of the office and into the conference room, where Elsa was still in her seat, staring at the floor, knuckles white. "Elsa! Are you okay?"
Elsa looked up, alarmed, as Anna raced over to her. "What are you doing here? You should be at school."
"I was worried. I… watched the entire thing in Mom's office." The disruptive presence of the funereal meeting that had just taken place still lingered in the room, and Anna reached over to seize Elsa in a fierce hug, as if Elsa had just dodged a flurry of daggers. Which, in retrospect, was not far from the truth. "You did great, Elsa. Really."
Elsa pulled back, and offered a tentative smile. "Not here, Anna. But thanks."
As soon as they were in the privacy of Elsa's office, Anna asked, "What did Morgana say to you?"
"Something about Father," Elsa muttered, shutting the door behind her.
"Is it important?"
Elsa unclenched her fist, revealing a scrap piece of paper. "I'm supposed to meet them at this address tomorrow. Anna, I need you to promise me something."
Half-sitting on top of Elsa's desk, Anna tilted her head questioningly. "Hm?"
"Don't come again while they're here. I don't want them meeting you," Elsa said, as she strode over to stand in front of her sister. "Please."
Yeah, right. The first thing on Anna's mind was to have a word with Cruella De Vil and Shan Yu. But Elsa would never back down when it came to her safety, so she amiably complied, "Okay."
Before Elsa could question the integrity of her acquiesce, she changed the subject. "I brought something for you." With that, she reached into her backpack and produced a small glass jar along with a square piece of paper.
"A jar?"
Anna grinned, "Not just any jar. A hope jar."
Elsa made a noise that sounded somewhere between a snort and a chuckle. "Really? Do you know how cheesy you sound?"
Grabbing a pen from Elsa's desk, she wrote, "Infinity," grinning to herself, and then expertly folded the paper into a star, dropping it into the jar. "It's a kenning."
"I know it is," Elsa said, uninspired. "I took English with Ms. Corona, too."
"Then you'll know what it means."
"Yes, Pandora's Box," She huffed, crossing her arms impatiently. "You're so full of cheese."
"But I'm your cheese," Anna unleashed a wide smile, unfaltering in the face of Elsa's edgeless gibes.
"You're my miracle, too."
"Now who's being cheesy?"