The throbbing pain in her head rouses Elsa from her sleep, but it takes a thumping from behind the door to force her eyes open.
"Your Majesty!"
She lifts her head from the pillow, still damp from where she had wept into the cashmere covers last night.
"...what?" she slurs and rubs her forehead. Accustomed to rising before dawn, sunlight streaming behind the curtains forces her eyelids shut again.
Is it morning already? She thinks, and compels herself to look for the time.
"That's a first," she mutters, widening her eyes at the clock ticking past seven.
"Your Majesty!" the knocking continues, "you have a-"
"Yes, yes! The meeting! Just give me a minute," she calls out to the door while conjuring an ice gown over her nightclothes, "get my, er, breakfast here, with two pots of coffee."
The memory of last night slams into her head and she clutches at her disheveled hair.
"Wait, wait! Send for Gerda too, and, and, the hairdresser!"
"Certainly, your Majesty!"
Her meal arrives within minutes, and she alternates between eating ham croissants and taking gulps of strong black coffee while having her hair done. The throbbing ache in her head is gone, but she can't shake the clutching sensation in her chest. With her gaze fixed on the door, the attending butler refrains from sighing every time she inadvertently freezes her coffee solid.
The throbbing in her heart ceases when Gerda rushes in and bows.
"Good morning your-"
"Gerda!" Elsa lurches from her chair and clutches her by the shoulders, "Have you seen Anna?"
"The Princess?"
"Yes! Have you seen her this morning?" Elsa asks, and yanks her hands away when frost blossoms across Gerda's lapels.
"I saw her walking to the library with her tutors," Gerda says, rubbing the frost from her neck, "she has a literature lesson this morning."
"She's up this early?"
"Yes, her Highness was dressed and seated in the dining hall waiting for breakfast before the kitchen was ready. May I be so bold as to remind your Majesty that you have a meeting with the interior ministerial-"
"Christ! Who sets these meetings so early in the morning?" Elsa scowls as she fumbles with her velvet gloves.
The servants look at each other, and return to keeping their heads bowed.
With snow springing from her footsteps, Elsa marches into the Royal meeting hall and neglects to wave off the ministers as they rise to greet her. She sits and mulls at the documents for a full minute before noticing the two rows of elderly statesmen staring at her.
"Um, you may be seated, gentlemen," she mutters and returns to staring at the stack of parchments lined up neatly for her consideration.
The servants bring out thick winter coats for the ministers, and they begin debating the merits of policy changes in Arendelle. Beneath the crisp daylight flooding through the windows, Elsa tries her best to focus on the bullet points of the agenda she set out for discussion today, but all she sees is the glow of her own portrait hanging in Anna's room, and her mind churns over everything it means.
By the time the towering mahogany clock strikes twelve, Elsa has lost count of the snowflakes she has doodled in the margins of her notes, and the ministers' heads are white with sleet. It's a blessing her mood is an open book; the statesmen have saved their power mongering for another day, knowing she lacks the spirits to listen to another round of their petty squabbling.
While signing on the meeting minutes, the distant melody of a church choir jogs her memory back to the visit from last night.
"I would like to schedule another meeting with the Mayor of Barnmeadow, the Department of Sanitation, and the Department of Water Resources," she announces.
The ministers stop rubbing their hands together and stare at her. The chill in the air lifts, and their eyes widen as a scribe takes down her request.
"And another one with the Chiefs of the Navy and Army, and the Department of Taxation and Finance," she continues, and thumps the royal seal on the documents to make her point.
They turn their gazes from the Queen and towards each other. With a flick of her wrist, Elsa dismisses the men; she doesn't wait for them to rise before turning on her ice slippers and bolting out the door.
Standing in the hallway, Kai pulls an overcoat over his shoulders and folds his arms at the sight of Elsa stomping towards him. He turns his face away just as a gust of chill air blasts into his face.
"Your Maj-"
"Please, Kai. P-please tell me where she is now," Elsa stammers, clasping and unclasping her gloved hands.
Kai raises his head and tears up at the frosty wind brushing against his eyes.
"I'm sorry, your Majesty. Who are you looking for?"
"Anna!" she yells, and jagged icicles erupt around her feet. Kai flinches backwards and lowers his head. .
"Her Highness is partaking her mid-day meal in the library. She is accompanied by the royal tutelage and Olaf the snowman."
She takes off before Kai finishes his sentence, crunching the icicles beneath her slippers.
Elsa hitches the gown around her ankles and sprints down the hallway. She's never ran this fast before, but she's unable to outrun the urgency of wanting to confront Anna over everything which happened last night. The imposing double doors of Arendelle's royal library loom into view faster than she can skid to a halt, and she pauses by the knob to catch her breath. Compose yourself, woman, her mind chides, you look like a royal fucking joke. Unable to separate the emotions surging through her heart, and just needing something to do to prevent the frost from creeping into the library; Elsa presses her ear up against the door and holds her breath.
Behind the door, Anna's voice rings out in a melody of laughter and she hears Olaf giggling in response. The older sister within her tells her that she should barge in there now; blast open the doors with a gust of icy wind and demand to know what she was doing out in town last night. Her brows furrow as a multitude of questions hang from her lips:
What were you thinking leaving the Castle in the middle of the night? Why were you out with Prostitutes? Who introduced you to them? Where the hell was Kristoff? Why is there a painting of me in your bedroom? Is there something you're feeling towards me that you don't want to talk about?
And the most pressing question of them all: Have I failed you as a sister?
An icy cold slicing through her hand snaps her out of her thoughts and she gasps at the door handle frozen solid beneath her fingers. A confrontation would undoubtedly lead to an argument, Elsa knows that. A fear creeps up in her heart as she recalls the last argument they had, and the haunting image of Anna buckled over upon the floor, fainting away from the ice she had sent into her heart.
"No," she thinks, and the ice beneath her feet thaws, "I can't let it happen again."
She takes a step away from the door, and her heart clenches at the sound of Anna's voice animatedly discussing the difference between reindeer milk and cow's milk. Conceal, Conceal, don't feel. She turns and stares at the icy trail fading away as the shards of ice evaporate into specks of snow. The rational part of her mind tells her to run, hide behind the visage of her crown and bury herself in the architectural drawings of a new cargo complex she intended to examine today. But what's the point? She's only ever ran and hidden from her problems her whole life, and what has that brought her?
Pain and misery, worst of all – not to herself.
With her shoulders hunched over, Elsa slinks away to the palace's second floor, ignoring the servants taking an extra step back as they bow to greet her. She hates the distance people put between themselves and her, and the ugly icy trails zigzagging the palace spreading news of her mood among the palace staff like wildfire.
The library's second floor hosts an enclave of bound diplomatic letters from her parents' reign. When Elsa was young, she would lock herself away in there every time the frosty isolation of her room proved too much to bear. She'd lose herself in the regal atmosphere of the words, and she still knows the location of each volume by heart, despite a layer of dust coating them ever since she ascended the throne. But today, she seeks out the balcony, knowing it overlooks the central reading room where Anna has her lessons.
Elsa closes her eyes and forces out every trace of emotion within her in a well-rehearsed drill of numbing herself. A smile spreads across her lips as she edges open the door and warmth greets her face. No frost, she notes, looking at her fingers delicately poised on the brass handle, and allows herself the liberty of sneaking into her little sanctuary on the tips of her toes.
Anna's laughter echoes throughout the library's domed ceiling, and Elsa crawls to the edge on her hands and knees. She conceals herself behind the velvet drapes, and sighs in relief at the sight of Anna kneeling on the carpet playing with Olaf. All trace of the disheveled mess of a Princess she hauled back last night is gone, replaced by the cheery grin of a teenage girl as she tries different vegetables on Olaf's face. Anna's face glows beneath the glare of the skylights, and from the darkness of her hiding place, she can just about make out the freckles on her cheeks dancing with each giggle bubbling from her lips.
A warmth creeps up on Elsa's skin as she gazes upon Anna's red braids twirling around in a dance with Olaf. The perspiration beneath her gloves alarms her; she's forgotten the last time she felt this way, and she wonders if it has anything to do with the sight of effervescent joy radiating from her sister's face. She loves her sister, she knows that from the bottom of her heart, but there was never an instance where she's just appreciated her for being Anna – a beautiful woman who deserves every bit of affection withheld from her for so long.
Elsa sighs, and for the first time in her life, she questions if her sister's been feeling the same way towards her.