The pulsating ache in Elsa's throat stirs her from the darkest pits of her drug-induced unconsciousness. With sleep still heavy on her eyelids, a raspy groan escapes her lips as she rolls over; sitting up in the loose swathing of fabric holding her captive. Her eyes open to the sight of a blanket against her bare skin, and a soft, downy mattress beneath her hips.
"What the-" Elsa gasps, staring at the sparse, stone room around her, lit by streams of sunlight filtering through a cobwebbed window. The sight of leather armor and swords lined neatly against the wall jogs her memory back to a day before, and the searing heat burning into her face sends her slamming back into the bed. With a wave of uncontrollable trembling coursing its way through her body and touching the very tips of her toes, Elsa lifts her arms before her and tries to make sense of the swathing of bandages around her hands. The fleeting thought of Anna's smile slips into her mind, and her hands turn to ice.
"Nice to see you haven't lost the gift," a soft voice resonates across the room.
Shrieking, Elsa recoils from the bed and tumbles on the floor, dragging herself away from the voice. Her eyes widen at the sight of a tall, blonde woman in an unfamiliar uniform, and she finds her name slipping from her lips before she remembers who it is.
"Anastasia?"
"Still haven't forgotten me huh? I must've made a good impression."
Elsa presses a bandaged hand to her face as the ache in her head makes a reappearance, "What? Why am I here? Are you-"
The woman kneels by her side, and trails her fingers along Elsa's bandages.
"I found you in the forest in soaking wet clothes with your hands burnt to a crisp. Any kind soul would've taken you in and did something to alleviate your pain – and you'll find out soon enough that I'm more than just a kind soul."
"A field? Wasn't I locked up in-" Elsa's gasps, wandering her gaze to a crossbow laid beneath a quiver hanging on the wall, "Wait, you're not really a farm girl from Finnmark are you?"
Anastasia's lips curl into a smirk, and she leans closer to the Queen, "Let's just say that I'm not just a farm girl. For the most part, my days are filled with milking cows and stacking hay."
"Well, who are you? And how did you find me?"
Heat courses through the Queen's face as the woman drags her lips against Elsa's ears, and she hangs onto her every word.
"I'm from the Russian foreign service bureau," she drawls in a Russian accent, "I protect the interests of the Tsar in Scandinavia. As for your second question, I'm giving you a chance to reconsider asking. I doubt you'll find the answer very palatable."
Elsa stares at the bear insignia patch sewn into Anastasia's faded uniform, tattered and stained from years of service in far off lands – and tries to reconcile that with the image of a sultry peasant girl she met just days before.
"No," Elsa snaps, shifting her weight away from the overwhelming proximity Anastasia imposes, "I think I'd very much like to know."
Elsa's eyes widen and frost forms beneath her hips as the woman produces a scrap of cloth. From the beige fabric, she recognises it as the dress she wore on her first night in Finnmark until it was torn to scraps by...
"I found this in room nine at the inn," she says, pressing the fabric to her nose and inhaling, "I've been told I have a keen sense of smell, but for tracking human beings – dogs are far more intuitive."
The Queen stares directly into Anastasia's eyes, trying to determine if she knows about their dirty little secret. For a moment, all she detects is the glimmer of desire reaching towards her, but the smirk on her lips gives her away.
"You can't tell anyone," Elsa pleads, "Arendelle will turn on me if they know about me and-"
"Shh," Anastasia whispers, touching a finger to Elsa's lips. The blood rushes to her face, though she can't determine if it's from the softness of Anastasia's touch, or the fact that someone else knows the filthy connection she shared with Anna.
"I know now you like redheads," Anastasia continues, "my question is – how about blondes?"
Before Elsa can even comprehend the question, or phrase a reply, Anastasia closes her lips around Elsa's and steals the breath from her lungs with the softest of kisses. She finds herself unable to resist, or push the magnetic touch of her fingers from her face. But before she can even decide what to feel about the sensation, it's over, and she's left looking up at the intense green eyes of Anastasia bearing down on her.
"How do I even know you're on my side?" Elsa scowls, holding out a frosty hand to keep Anastasia away, "I've already been betrayed by the military."
"Believe me, Russia stands to lose more than she could gain from an unstable Scandinavia. Arendelle remains the last nation strong enough to challenge the warmongers of this region. I think you know which countries I'm talking about."
"The Southern Isles?"
"You didn't really think you could just disband the entire military without repercussions, did you?"
Elsa raises an eyebrow at her captor and scowls, "Of course I did, at first. Obviously, this is turning out to be a bad idea."
"All the youth and none of the experience," Anastasia drawls, twirling a lock of Elsa's hair between her fingers. She clutches her captor's fingers with the intention of pushing her away, but finds herself unable to do so, and merely allows her touch to linger.
A smirk crosses Anastasia's face as she continues, "and you had no idea the Southern Isles have been supplying arms to Arendelle for years after your parents' deaths?"
"Arms?" Elsa asks, cocking her head to the side and narrowing her eyes, "Why would Arendelle need arms for? My father would have never approved such a thing, we have all the-"
"There, there little one," Anastasia slurs, leaning forward and sliding her finger tips beneath Elsa's chin, "I think you'll discover in due time how much...corruption goes on when thrones are left vacant."
Elsa gasps and inches herself away from her captor, "the General! And the Admiral! They've been taking bribes from the Southern Isles to supply Arendelle's military?"
"You catch on quickly for a Queen of your age," Anastasia says, shifting her weight towards Elsa, "it's a pity you couldn't catch on to their plot."
"You knew?" Elsa exclaims, pressing a bandaged hand to the woman's chest, "Russia knew? And you didn't do anything?"
"Of course not!" Anastasia says, swatting Elsa's hand away, "we wouldn't have a cause to kill the lot of them before they made any moves did we? Besides, there were a lot more of them planning to overthrow you – and we needed all of them to show their colours-"
"Is this enough?" Elsa shrieks and holds up her bandaged hands, "They locked me in a godforsaken oven!"
"They did? That was rather unfortunate," Anastasia quips, eliciting a scowl of disapproval from Elsa, "Although it does beg the question of how you got out of said oven. The Southern Isles isn't known for making the same mistakes twice."
Elsa screws her eyes shut and shakes her head, "I don't- All I remember was Hans gassing me with chloroform, and the next thing I knew, I woke up here."
"Nothing rings a bell?"
Elsa focuses hard on the last memories which filtered into her consciousness before everything turned to black. Hans. Fucking. Anna.
"Oh my god," Elsa gasps as her bandages freeze over and frost skirts along the ceiling, "Anna! Where's Anna?"
"We don't know," Anastasia says, looking at the snow peeling from Elsa's skin, "the last time we saw her – she was standing by the pier while she was supposed to be proclaimed Queen in your place. And then the entire Arendelle Fleet erupted into a mutiny against the Coup."
"What do you mean you don't know?" Elsa snaps, grabbing at Anastasia's uniform, "Please, oh god, please! You have to find out where she is!"
"Relax, there're scouts looking for her," Anastasia says, brushing the sleet from Elsa's hair, "as for you however – you're safe and sound with me – where nobody can harm you."
Backed into a corner, Elsa's attempts at inching away from Anastasia reach their limits. With her mind rife with worry over Anna, Elsa doesn't notice the woman slithering her lips along her cheek. The overwhelming scent of vanilla fails to stir Elsa from her thoughts, nor does the touch of Anastasia's lips to hers. Elsa keeps her eyes open as her captor feasts on her lips, drinking in the taste of the Queen's moist sweetness. When she's done, Anastasia cups Elsa's face in her hands, blowing softly against her lips and cooing her name.
"You have to help me find Anna," Elsa pleads, ignoring the dampness dripping from her bandages, "please."
"Well, that depends on how much you're willing to...put out with me."
Elsa's frowns at Anastasia; the thought of slapping her sends a twitch into her hand, but decides against starting another war when she hasn't even finished one yet. Just as she begins leaning in for another kiss, a knock on the door causes them to flinch, and Anastasia leaps to her feet. A man in a military uniform appears and she fails to conceal her displeasure at his interruption. The pair exchange a series of angry words in Russian, before he looks over at Elsa with cocked eyebrows. Slapping an envelope into her hand, he turns on his heels and leaves as quickly as he arrived – leaving Anastasia alone with Elsa once more.
"Idiot," Anastasia mutters, unfolding the two slips of paper in her possession. Her eyes dart across the letters and Elsa's jaw begins to widen at the sight of her captor's expression turning grim.
"What is it?" Elsa demands, crossing her arms.
"They've found Anna," Anastasia whispers, holding out the report to Elsa, "she's being taken to the Southern Isles. But there's-"
Elsa lets out a shriek and throttles Anastasia by the collar, "Let's get her now! What are we waiting for?"
"There's another problem," Anastasia whispers, unfolding a map, "our informant in the Southern Isles has reported that their naval harbours have emptied – and from the wind patterns this time of the year, their fleet would be on course straight for Arendelle."
"What!" Elsa shrieks, snatching the papers from Anastasia. She races her eyes across the red dots splayed across the map denoting the mightiest fleet in all of Northern Europe, sucking in her breath as she sees just how close they are to Arendelle's Fjords, and the thousands of lives in the Capital. She flips to the next page and finds another drawing of a route through the valleys – with a blue 'X' marking HRH PRINCESS ANNA OF ARENDELLE, LAST KNOWN LOCATION. With shaking hands, Elsa holds out the two pieces of paper and flits her eyes between them; frost crackles from her fingertips and they freeze solid beneath her grasp.
"For Christ's sake Anastasia!" Elsa exclaims, tossing the frozen paper-planks onto the bed and racing to the window, "Where the hell is this place?"
"A cliff on the edge of the Finnmark-Russia border," Anastasia mutters, picking up the papers and dropping them as the cold bites into her fingers.
Elsa throws open the windows and gasps at the hundred-foot drop into the pounding surf below. She shuts her eyes at the sunlight bearing down on her face, and the sea breeze whips through her gleaming hair. Forcing her eyes open, she stares into the distance at the still-smouldering ships of Arendelle's fleet docked in the harbour from last night's failed coup.
"The fleet!" Elsa exclaims, clutching at the windowsill and freezing it solid, "It'll take them forever to get back!"
"It's genius," Anastasia mutters, staring at the frost streaking across the room and keeping her distance from Elsa, "the Arendelle High Command lured your fleet and standing army away under the guise of the field trials, leaving the capital wide open to a Southern Isles invasion; treachery unheard of – even in Russia."
The Queen whispers into the fall breeze wafting into the room, pleading with the winds for Anna's safety.
"Please, you have to – have to - save Anna," Elsa stutters to Anastasia, "buy me some time, or the Southern Isles will damn us all. I'll fix this – I promise."
Anastasia shakes her head and inches herself further from the icicles sprouting around Elsa's feet, "I don't get it, what do you expect me to do? And what can you do about the Southern Isles? It's an entire-"
Before she can finish her sentence, Anastasia lurches towards Elsa mounting a foot on the sill and throwing herself out of the window. She gasps as the Queen plummets towards the rocks below, but a smirk forms on her lips as a snow-dragon swoops in from nowhere and whisks Elsa away on the winds. With a flap of its wings, the air around her trembles in deference at the majestic sight, and the dragon soars south towards Arendelle's capital.
"Alright then," Anastasia mutters to herself, "you've made your choice, and now I'll make mine."