It quickly became clear that Kristoff's philosophy of hunting and Fitz's were diametrically opposed, except perhaps from the game's point of view. Fitz was still smarting a bit from the discussion about the gun and her mood wasn't improved by Kristoff's comments on her attire ("Who wears a white shirt and a red coat to hunt?") and her general lack of preparedness. Kristoff was getting annoyed at her endless questions ("Why can't we ride? Is Sven the jealous sort?") and her far too carefree approach to what he considered a survival skill.

So far they had both managed to be civil. So far they had also both managed to be completely convinced they were in the right. It was unlikely that these two mutually exclusive states could continue forever. And right now it was civility that was being tested.

"Craaaaack!" The twig broke when Fitz moved her foot trying to relieve the growing numbness in her leg.

"Sssssssh," Kristoff glared at her.

Fitzwilliam had tried not to move, but they had been crouched here behind this damned bush for what she was sure was hours. The sun was beating down on them mercilessly, and even though her coat was in the custody of Sven, she was far hotter than she wished to be. This was not, she thought grimly, hunting. This was more like reading in the damn library, just crouched uncomfortably, with a gun in your hand … and possibly more boring. The sort of hunting she enjoyed had beaters to drive the game, dogs to chase it, and horses to ride to catch up to it. There was moving, riding and even running once you had abandoned your horse with a groom to mind it.

At the very least, even if one was going after stag in the highlands where it was difficult to ride, there was stalking. This wasn't stalking. This was waiting. She hated waiting.

She felt rather than heard Kristoff move. He focused his eyes on what looked for all the world like a tuft of grass. Then, his arrow nocked and ready, he carefully pulled it back on his bow and let fly. The arrow flew toward the tuft of grass, and the silence was broken by a squeal. Kristoff ran over to where the wounded rabbit lay, the arrow protruding from it, and quickly broke its neck.

"That's my dinner," he said, putting the rabbit in his game bag. "Now you just have to get yours."

Fitz sighed. She had a sinking feeling in her stomach that this would mean more crouching behind the damned bush. Perhaps she shouldn't have made quite as much fun of stalking the wild duck … although she had no desire to pluck feathers either. She'd had quite enough of that when she was young, plucking the chickens her mother raised.

"Right so … what? Don't tell me we're waiting here until the next rabbit comes by."

"This is a good spot for them," Kristoff explained.

Fitz gritted her teeth and stretched. "I'll blame you when I'm hungry tonight," she grumbled. "You know when you shoot a deer, there's enough for two."

Kristoff was tired of hearing about the superiority of hunting larger game. "Sure there's more than enough, but it's wasteful. It's summer; the meat won't keep."

"So we shoot the deer, clean it, head back … I'm sure the cook can sort out venison for dinner." Fitz again wondered if Kristoff had forgotten they actually had a home to go back to. They weren't trapped in the wilderness surviving on their wits after all.

"Yeah, but we can't go back yet." Kristoff answered without thinking, for if he had been thinking he could have anticipated the question that followed.

"What do you mean we can't go back yet?"

"Uh," Kristoff lied badly, fumbling his way through his explanation. "It's just too soon. You won't get to appreciate the ummm the beautiful ummm Arendelle countryside."

Fitz did a double take, squinting to make sure she was still taking to Kristoff. "Pardon me?" she asked incredulously. "Did you actually just say 'beautiful Arendelle countryside? I cannot imagine a more unlikely phrase coming from your mouth." She took a step closer to him,"And what do you mean we can't go back."

Kristoff decided that he hadn't promised to keep the reason for the trip a secret. He knew it was intended that way, but he took no responsibility for relationship fallout that happened with a plan that had depended on his participation willing or not.

"I promised I'd keep you out at least four days."

"Promised," Fitz considered the word. "Promised? Why?" Then a more pressing question occurred to her. "Promised whom?"

"Ummm," Kristoff looked up at the sky and shrugged. "Elsa."

"Really?" Fitz seemed unbelieving at first. But Kristoff nodded. "Really." she repeated this time to herself. Then she started to pace. And exclaim. "You're my nanny? What, I need something to keep me busy? Something to keep me from being underfoot?" She turned on Kristoff, jabbing her finger in his chest, "And whose damn Navy is it what won't give me the time of day? It's not like I kept this a secret. I said I didn't do idle well. 'Oh, don't worry,' she says." She poked Kristoff with every statement, and her voice grew louder with every poke. "Well, I see there's worrying. Just without me. Maybe I need to take myself back so we can discuss this. Loudly. Lengthily. Taking lots and lots of time … loudly."

At the last shouted word, a rabbit, terrified by Fitz's rant even if Kristoff just looked at her with an exasperated grimace, ran out from the brush. Fitz saw it from the corner of her eye and swung around bringing the shotgun up as she did so. She fired. The rabbit fell. Then she turned back to Kristoff without so much as taking an extra breath. "And you weren't going to say a damned thing about this?" she bellowed.

"Didn't think it was necessarily my place to … look, she meant well," Kristoff said in a placating tone. "And you got the rabbit," he added brightly, trying to distract Fitz.

"Meant well!"

Kristoff grabbed her hand before there could be more poking. "You got the rabbit."

"I'm not talking about the rabbit!"

Kristoff continued calmly. "Yeah, but I'm telling you it's probably a better idea. Let's deal with the rabbits. The rest will … work itself out, I' m sure. Do you really want to storm back into the castle and have a fight about a hunting trip? Besides, that was pretty good shooting. Maybe I'd like to see some more of that."

Fitz wasn't sure she believed him, either about things working themselves out or about her shooting.

Kristoff continued, "She's gonna miss you. I guarantee, four days, that's three nights … you'll be missed."

This Fitz believed, she thought confidently, of course she'd be missed. But she also knew she was being talked down. Briefly she considered it a diabolical Arendellian plot, all of the kingdom scheming together to turn her into a quiet, book reading, bush hiding in sort of person, at the behest of a quiet, book reading, sitting in the garden for hours just thinking sort of Queen … but she rejected that. Kristoff didn't get along with enough people in Arendelle to be part of a plot.

She gave him a sour look. "Let's go get the damn rabbit."

Kristoff headed out to where the rabbit fell. Fitz started off after him, pausing only to turn back in the general direction of the city and the castle and shake her fist in defiance. "This doesn't mean I have forgiven anyone. Anyone!"

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"Sure you don't want any help with that?" Kristoff asked.

"No!" Fitz snapped, grunting as she tried to "ease" the skin over the rabbit's shoulders. She felt it rip … again … briefly considered testing how far a partially skinned rabbit could fly … and then picked up her knife from where she had thrown it earlier. She heard something that definitely sounded like a reindeer laughing. She shot a glare at Sven. Flying reindeer, now that was also a thought.

There was no question, her rabbit was a mess. Kristoff stood next to her, his rabbit carcass neatly and efficiently skinned, cleaned, and rolled up in his bag. Fitz's rabbit looked more like a tragic victim found by the roadside after being beaten to death by highwaymen. Truth was she had never actually skinned anything before. When she had lived with her mother in the small village she had called home for the first eleven years of her life, they had been too poor to hunt anything. There wasn't money for a good knife let alone a gun. Later in life, when she had hunted with her father, they had servants who skinned what they killed. And, as she had refrained from reminding Kristoff, rabbit fur was a lot more delicate than deer hide or a wolf pelt.

"I just thought, maybe two hands would make it … go quicker?" Fitz pinked at Kristoff's understatement. "I'm not sure which is bloodier, you or the rabbit." He leaned over and pointed out a bit of fur on the rabbit's back. "And you missed a spot there."

"I'm not finished," Fitz said tightly.

"Well, hurry up. It will be dark soon, and I want to make camp while it's still daylight, and far away from where we cleaned the game. That," he pointed over to the offal on the ground, "will attract predators."

"Wouldn't be such a problem if we'd brought the rifle now, would it?" Fitz muttered under her breath. She swiped at the tuft of fur with her knife and then cut down the mutilated carcass. She brought it over to where Kristoff had made a makeshift table on a fallen tree and laid it out to gut it.

"Careful, careful!" Kristoff exclaimed holding back her knife hand. "You don't want to cut the wrong thing down there. Trust me." Sven had ambled over from his spot in the grass and concurred with a throaty snuffle. Fitz humphed in frustration, her shoulders tightening in embarrassment.

"Here. Like this … gently." He guided her hand in a shallow cut across the rabbit's belly. "You know, Elsa said you were an experienced hunter," he added a little apologetically. He wouldn't have dragged Fitz out here if he had realized she wasn't comfortable with this. Maybe Elsa should have considered shopping in the village, or something else equally genteel that gentlemen … well gentlemanly ladies … from Avalon enjoyed. And that would have left him off the hook, too.

"I am. I'm considered quite good," she replied with a huff. "I've just never done … this part." Then following his example from earlier she shoved her hands in the rabbit's body cavity and began removing the entrails.

"Oh, yeah." Kristoff rolled his eyes. "Aristocracy."

"I am not ..." she pulled the rabbit guts out, and the liver plopped onto her breeches leaving a dark stain on the buckskin. "Bloody hell … these are ruined."

Even Sven cackled at that. Fitz turned and mouthed "wolf bait" over her shoulder at him. There was a bellow, and suddenly Kristoff found himself standing between an irate reindeer and an irate woman waving a knife. A knife with a three-inch blade, but still ….

"Everyone calm down," he said sharply. Then he gestured at Fitz's rabbit. "There's a stream to wash that off in near camp."

"Fine," she said picking it up and stuffing it in her game bag. Then she stalked over to Sven and snatched her coat from where it was rolled up in the saddle bag. "Keep it up," she said under her breath to him, "and we will have words." Then she realized that she was talking to a reindeer. First snowmen. Now a reindeer. What was this kingdom doing to her? Muttering 'Arendellian Plots!' under her breath, she headed off after Kristoff.

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It was only a couple of hours later that they found themselves sitting around a fire, the temperature having dropped once the sun set, with their roasted rabbits skewered on sticks as their dinner.

"Ah! Bloody hell!" Fitz spat another shot pellet out on the ground.

"Yeah, that's the problem with a shotgun." Kristoff waved a choice tidbit of rabbit at her as he spoke. They were both quite hungry, and Kristoff was devouring his dinner, not having to worry about shot lurking in the meat. Fitz was eating rather more gingerly, spitting out shot as she went. She grumbled something profane about shotguns, and then she stuck her hand in her large coat pocked and then pulled out a napkin.

"What's that?" Kristoff watched as she pulled something out of the napkin. She gave it a look and a sniff, and then she tossed it over the fire to him.

"Bread from this morning, I grabbed what was left on the table. You know, in case we weren't successful." She pulled out another roll for herself from the linen and smiled. "It's not hardly stale at all." Certainly she had eaten much much worse.

Kristoff looked at the roll in his hand. It was crushed, having spent the day in the coat on Sven's back, but it looked like a welcome addition to dinner. A moment of guilt flitted through him, and then he pulled off a leg from his rabbit and offered it back to Fitz. "This won't have any shot in it."

Fitz looked at the offering carefully and then nodded. "Thanks." She made short work of it, and it took the edge off her hunger. Then she reached inside her boot and pulled out her flask. One act of generosity deserved another. "Here," she wiggled the flash in Kristoff's direction.

Kristoff took the flask. He pulled pulled the stopper out and then sniffed. "What is it?"

"Rum, or what passes for rum in this god forsaken Kingdom. I don't know where it comes from, but it's not from any place that actually makes rum. Still it's better than a sharp stick in the eye," she chuckled.

Kristoff took a swig. "Not too bad." He tried it again. "Not exactly smooth, though." He passed the flask back and then got his pack from Sven. The reindeer was settled in near the fire with his own bags of feed and water. Fitz had fed him some "make up" carrots, and he had accepted her apology with loud munching noises.

From his pack Kristoff pulled out his own bottle. It was clear glass and inside was a pale green liquid. He passed it to Fitz. "Try this."

She unstoppered the bottle and took a long pull. The first taste was almost cool, like a mint tea, but as she swallowed it started a burn unlike anything she'd ever had before. The burn grew until her whole body tingled. Her eyes shot wide open. She let out a little gasp. "What IS this?"

"That's … well, I call it troll juice. My family … the trolls … make it. I'm not sure what's in it, but it'll keep you warm on the ice that's for sure."

"Smooth," Fitz said appreciatively, "but with a little kick there in the end."

Kristoff grinned. Fitz was a hoot. 'Little' kick ... sure. "The other guys seem to like it. I thought you might."

They sat in companionable silence trading the flasks, the rabbit, and the rolls back and forth until they were full. Then they just continued with the flasks. Fitz let the warmth of the rum and the troll juice flow through her. She looked up at the stars. There were so many of them out here. The stars shone bright in the sky above a ship in the middle of the sea, but here, above the haze, they were diamond sharp.

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"It's been a while since it's been just the two of us," Elsa said. She and Anna were having a quiet dinner. Since they were alone they were sitting across from each other at one end of the table.

"Not since Kristoff decided you weren't going to freeze him into a statue, and it was safe to be in the same room with you."

Elsa shook her head in disbelief. "I really never understood why I made him so nervous."

"Elsa, have you met you?" Anna answered. "You are a little intimidating, I mean and also … the Queen."

Elsa sat up fully erect and sent her piercing, 'I am the Queen' look at Anna. "I am NOT intimidating," she said in her most commanding tone. Then they both dissolved into giggles, Elsa hiding hers behind her hand, Anna trying not to spew her mouthful of soup across the table.

"You can't do that while I'm eating," Anna said with a cough. Then she added, "You know it is kinda nice when it's just us."

"Do I have to add you to the list of people who think 'Fitz needs to spend more time away'?" Elsa sighed.

"Oh no, no." Anna waved her hands and almost knocked over the wine bottle. Elsa rescued it, and moved it closer to her. "I love it that she's here. She's fun. And you're so cute when you're with her."

Elsa looked up from refilling her glass."Cute?" She said indignantly. "I am not cute. Remember I'm the intimidating person in the room."

"First, they're not mutually exclusive. Second, no, with Fitz you're just cute."

"She is rather difficult to intimidate," Elsa huffed, thinking of the first time they met. Fitz an implacable wall of … Fitz … nonplussed only by the suggestion that they dance.

"Yet surprisingly easy to annoy," Anna added with a grin.

"That's just because you're so annoying." Elsa teased.

"Little sisters are supposed to be."

"And to think, I was afraid I had missed out on all that."

"You know," Anna said bring the conversation back to Fitz, "she's sort of the anti-Kristoff. He gets intimidated around here, but he's almost impossible to annoy. I mean, he pretends like he's annoyed, but really underneath it all he's just a big old patient sweetie."

"He'd have to be."

"Hey!" Anna pouted.

"Hmm, the 'anti-Kristoff'," Elsa considered this. "They are pretty much opposites."

"Do you think they're getting along?" Anna asked with a hint of concern.

"I hope so," Elsa answered. "I mean they have weapons. If they're not one of us is going to be pretty distraught."

Anna wondered how her regal, shy, introverted sister had suddenly turned into the world's worst tease. "Really Elsa, I think both of us would be distraught, don't you?" Anna had a sudden alarming though. "Fitz didn't take her sword did she?"

"No. I was going to make sure of that. But I didn't have to as it seems swords are not part of proper hunting attire, even though they seem to be part of every other attire." Elsa sighed, remembering Fitz's impromptu lecture. "Apparently Avalon has this entire complex etiquette involving swords, and heaven help me, fans."

"I'm not worried about Fitz beating Kristoff to death with a fan."

"My understanding is that in our relationship, I am the fan wielder." Elsa's face clearly showed her lack of appreciation for fans. "But I doubt it will come to that, not with a fan or a sword." Elsa sighed again. "But something did occur to me."

"She has another weapon?"

"No," Elsa scoffed. "I am just a little concerned about their topics of conversation."

"What do you mean?"

"Anna, what is the only thing they have in common?"

"Ummm? I don't know? They both wear pants?"

Elsa rolled her eyes and sighed. "What have we been talking about?"

"Uh … them. So …. oh. Oh!" Anna's eyes widened as she realized what Elsa was driving at.

"Yes. Us."

"Us. Well, that's not too bad … I mean what could they … and … you don't think they'd talk about us ... like ... oh no!" Anna turned pale. "I mean, not that I have anything to worry about … like that … anyway."

"You'd better not," Elsa said looking hard at her younger sister, who promptly blushed. "Anna!"

"We're careful."

"Do I have to have a seriously intimidating conversation with Kristoff?"

"No!" Anna yelped.

"And, why not? He's clearly not getting the point about what the next proper step is. Perhaps because someone," Elsa leaned forward to emphasize who she thought the responsible someone was, "has not made it plain to him what the next proper step is."

"I think he … I think he knows. I think he wants to. I just don't want to push him."

"It's been a year, Anna. And if you're …you're ..." she couldn't bring herself to actually say the words. "It's time."

"I know, Elsa. And he will."

"Anna." Elsa schooled her face to a serious look. "If Papa were alive, Kristoff would have proposed by now, or you would be locked in your room. In fact he would have proposed by now, and you still would be locked in your room until you were married."

Anna wondered briefly how Elsa was so sure of that, but this didn't seem the time to ask. "Alright. I'll talk to him, when they get back." Anna reached out and took Elsa's hand. "I can be responsible. You don't have to worry about me."

"I'm always going to worry about you. It's my job. You're my sister, and I love you."

"That's my line." Anna gave her a quick smile, and then they both fell into silence.

Finally Elsa asked,"How about dessert?" This was usually the high point of Anna's mealtimes, and Elsa wanted to break the uncomfortable silence.

"Elsa, you think they're going to get along, right?"

"Of course, I do. They're both reasonable people."

"And you don't think they're talking about us. Not just talking … but talking … you know."

"Of course not." Elsa said firmly. "Fitz isn't just reasonable, she has a good sense of self-preservation. And if she did that … she knows I'd kill her."

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Fitz sat up and looked across the fire at Kristoff and asked. "So, when are you going to marry Anna?"

Kristoff was taking another swig of rum when Fitz said this. He choked and sputtered "What?" Where did THAT question come from?

Fitz repeated, perhaps a little more slowly than she needed to, "Marry. Anna. When are you going to marry Anna?"

"What? Why? I don't know. Why are you asking me?" His confusion turned to indignation. "It's no business of yours."

"Kristoff, she's the Crown Princess of Arendelle, next in line to the throne. It's not only my business, it's the whole bloody kingdom's business."

"Why would anyone care if she's married?" Kristoff harrumphed.

Fitz refused to believe that he really didn't know the answer. "Are you intimate?" She gestured as if that was the obvious answer.

"Excuse me?"

"Are you having intimate relations? You know … sex. Do I need to draw a picture?"

Kristoff flushed bright red. "It's not your business."

"It is if you get her bloody pregnant."

Kristoff blinked in shock. "I won't. I'm careful. We're careful."

"Well, I'm wondering then what you're doing every night after dinner for hours." Fitz just shook her head and rolled her eyes to the heavens. "God save us from children 'being careful'!"

"We're not children! And we're ...we're ..." Kristoff sputtered, infuriated. "We're not doing anything that gets anyone pregnant. There are …there are other things to do, you know."

At that Fitz threw back her head and roared with laughter. "Oh. That I know. There are other things you can do."

Kristoff got up and slowly moved over to Fitz. "Are you laughing at me?"

"No, I'm just laughing near you." Fitz gave him a look out of the corner of her eye. "No need to get your britches in a twist." Then she stood and stared back at him, continuing in tone that was all command. "But if you're gonna do these … 'other things,' you're gonna propose. That way if one 'thing' ends up in the other 'thing' by accident, we don't have a royal crisis on our hands, do we?"

"And you're the one telling me to do this?" Kristoff growled. "You all high and mighty, white shirt and all, going to tell me that I have to get married."

"For god's sake, lay off my bloody white shirt. You've been complaining about it all day."

"Who wears a white shirt to go hunting?" Kristoff exclaimed again.

"This," Fitz gestured at her attire. "This is what a gentle-person wears on the hunt. If you had ever hunted in civilized company … in a civilized manner … you would know that. In fact, you could use to wear a white shirt every now and then. It might help you look slightly less like whatever the reindeer dragged in and more like someone who is courting a Princess."

"I look fine," Kristoff said loudly. "Anna doesn't mind what I wear."

"Of course, Anna doesn't mind," Fitz scoffed. "Is there anything that Anna does mind, really?"

"You don't get to talk about Anna that way."

"What way?" Fitz exclaimed. "I'm just trying to be helpful here. It's what everyone's thinking. You might as well know it, too."

"No, you're being a pompous, superior, stupid … stuck in the mud aristocratic … "

"I'm not a bloody aristocrat …."

"And you don't get to talk about the woman I love that way." Kristoff took a step closer.

"Oh, so then." Fitz didn't back off. "So you love her! So bloody get married … and then you can bloody do all the things you want with her, all bloody day long …."

"Stop telling me what to do!" Kristoff couldn't believe that she felt she could say this stuff. "You're a …. a …. a bloody hypocrite. We're not doing anything you're not doing. And it's not like I tell you not to f ..."

Fitz grabbed Kristoff by the shirt and pulled him to her. "Don't say it boy; you'll regret it."

"You mean it's OK for you and Elsa to …."

Fitz shook him hard."I said don't say it."

"You don't think everyone doesn't know what you're doing? Or is it OK, because when you f…." Kristoff never got to finish the sentence because Fitz's fist slammed into his jaw. He stumbled back and shook his head. Then with a roar they were both on each other rolling on the ground, fists flying.

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Fitz groaned as she forced one eye open. It was light. Early morning still, but light. She pushed her aching body upright, her stomach lurched and her head swam. Sitting on the ground, she looked around. It didn't take her any effort to figure out some of what she had done last night, clearly drinking had been part of the fun. But why was she under a bush, why did she hurt like she'd been beaten with a stick? And where the hell was …. Kristoff? She scowled. Kristoff. Troll juice. That bastard. She hoped he felt this bad because if he didn't she was going to rectify that. She looked around, however, and didn't see him. Well, she hoped he wasn't dead. Hurting yes, dead no. Dead would be difficult to explain.

She stood slowly and looked down at her clothing. "Fitz, you are a bloody mess," she muttered. She pulled off her jacket, stumbling a little … apparently not all of the troll juice had worn off yet. And laid it carefully over the bush that had been her shelter for the night. Of course any care she was taking with it now was not going to make up for the hard use it had seen the night before. But she knew from experience that it was salvageable. She'd had more than one night using her coat as a blanket in the past. This one would recover just as the others had.

Her shirt was covered with streaks of blood, which first made her nervous until she remembered she hadn't brought her sword for exactly this reason. It was … it was that bloody rabbit. The evening started coming back to her in waves. The rabbit. The aborted dinner. Troll juice. Bloody Kristoff and his infuriating inability to listen to reason. The fight.

She sighed. But if the way she felt was any measure, he gave as good as he got. That reassured her that there wasn't a Kristoff body somewhere around here. That would have been awkward with Anna … and Elsa … to say the least. She wondered if she should look for him, but decided against it. She'd let him sleep. She wished someone had done that for her. But since she was up, she wouldn't get back to sleep anytime soon, so she decided to take a look around their campsite. She started down the incline, simply because it was easier, took three steps … found a convenient bush to throw up in … and once her stomach was emptied of the foul green remnants of that vicious troll poison, she walked down to the nearby stream.

The stream was snow melt from the mountains, clean … and very cold. She tried a handful on her quivering stomach. It felt good going down, but less so coming back up. OK, so drinking would have to wait a bit, but there was more than one way to cleanse alcohol from your body.

She walked several yards downstream until she found a deeper spot where the water pooled. Stripping off her clothing and steeling her nerves she slowly made her way into the pool. At the last she forced herself to go under, a ragged gasp her only concession to the cold water. It was bracing to say the least.

But once she was in, she felt better. She leaned her head back against a smooth rock and engaged in a fantasy that little rivers of troll juice were exiting her body through her pores and were being carried away by the stream. She tried drinking the water again, and by the fourth try she was able to keep some down. She wasn't sure how long she stayed like this, floating, drinking … drifting, but it must have been a while until Kristoff came clomping through the brush.

"There you are," he said, clearly annoyed.

She splashed around to face him. He didn't look any better than she had this morning and that made her heart glad. He was even had a bit of a black eye. Ooooh, nice one Fitz, she thought.

"You're a sight," she replied with a smirk.

"Speak for yourself," Kristoff growled. "You looked pretty bad, too you know."

"But I feel better," Fitz said with a yawn, stretching. "You should get in. The water's bracing, but you're the hearty mountain type."

Kristoff suddenly looked wide-eyed at her, as if he just realized where she was. "Um, no," he said hesitantly.

"It's cold," she scoffed, "but it's not that bad. Really you'll feel better. Come on." She stood and gestured for him to come over. The water came up to her waist.

"No!" he barked, and then looked away, averting his eyes.

Fitz was puzzled for only a moment before she burst out laughing. "Oh my God," she chortled. "You're shy."

"Not shy," Kristoff replied tightly. "You're a woman."

"Am I?" Fitz answered, looking down at her breasts, her nipples taut from the cold. "Damn it! That explains so much." She rolled her eyes, at least her humor was returning.

"You're the one who was lecturing me on propriety last night!"

"I was, wasn't I? Clearly you did better with that troll juice than I did if you remembered that." She sunk back down into the pool. "Kristoff, the whole point of 'propriety' is to keep inappropriate things from happening, so that other even more inappropriate things …. like babies …. don't happen. I assure you there is no danger of that happening here. If that baby making appendage comes anywhere near me, I'll tear it off and throw it out for the wolves to eat."

Kristoff winced. "But .. but ..."

"Damn you man, just get in. You'll feel better."

Kristoff took a moment to think about it. Finally he said, "Turn around."

"Oh for Gods sake, it's not like I haven't seen a naked man before … I have served with hundreds of men. It's impossible to be modest on a ship."

"Turn around!"

"Fine."

She turned away and heard scuffling and rustling, which she supposed was Kristoff undressing. Then there was a splash, she was disappointed that he didn't seem to mind the cold as much, but at least she felt she had leave to turn around.

"There, no harm done, yes?" She teased Kristoff. "Your virginity still intact?"

He grunted something in reply. She almost asked again about his virginity, but decided that point had been made already. Then she leaned back and looked up at the sky, crossing her arms behind her head. The sun was fully up now, and it looked like it would be a beautiful cloudless day. When she looked back, she was surprised to see Kristoff's eyes running over her.

"For someone who didn't want to get undressed near a woman, you're certainly staring," she said.

"Oh, sorry." He colored and looked away. "You've got a lot of scars."

"Ah," she chuckled, "that's not the best of them. I have a nice one across my ribs here, and this," she pointed to the musket ball wound near her shoulder, "is her Majesty's favorite."

She shouldn't have said that, Elsa would be very displeased if she found out, but she couldn't resist … and her hunch was correct. Kristoff turned all manner of shades of red and finally ducked fully under the water to avoid her eyes. It was glorious. She was still laughing when he finally came up for air.

"Don't do that!" he hissed.

"What? Show you my scars? I paid for them; I should get to show them off, right?"

"You can't talk about … that."

"Well, you certainly wanted to talk about it last night," she grinned at him. "But you're right. I shouldn't. And if you tell her what I just said, well, you won't have to worry about marrying anyone."

"Look, about last night," Kristoff started.

But Fitz interrupted him. "No, I'm first. I apologize. I was out of line. Not incorrect mind you, but out of line."

Kristoff chuckled at her not quite a full apology. "I got a little out of line, myself." He sighed and leaned his own head back, "And really, you're right. I want to marry Anna. I love her, and I want to spend the rest of my life with her."

"So do it, man!" Fitz encouraged. "If you marry her, I guarantee the whole castle will sleep a lot better at night. What's keeping you? She's not going to say no. She adores you."

"I'm don't feel …" Kristoff found the words hard to say, although he didn't think they were surprising. "I don't feel good enough. I'm just some guy; she's a Princess. I didn't grow up in a castle. Hell, I didn't grow up indoors. You said it yourself. I don't even dress like someone who can be with a Princess, and I know that's what Anna is … even though you know, I like to think of her as just Anna." He gave her a hopeless look and shrugged his shoulders. "How can someone like me be with a Princess?"

Fitz shrugged back, "Join the club."

"What do you mean, 'join the club'?"

"You think I'm any more comfortable about my place … or worthy for that matter … to court the Queen? I may own a few more white shirts, but that's really not what counts in this game the way it's played at home."

"You … but you were born to this stuff."

"Me? Hell no. I was born no better off than you are. I am no noblewoman."

"You're the daughter of the King of Avalon, Anna told me that."

"Illegitimate daughter," Fitz said with a sigh. "A bastard, a term that has cost more than one man his life when he's sneered it at me. Trust me, my relationship with the King of Avalon only hurts my social standing; it doesn't improve it."

"Hmm..." Kristoff nodded. "So you're in the same place as me. You feel like you're not good enough?"

"Actually I think you're one or two steps ahead of me."

Kristoff looked at her in disbelief.

"You've told Anna you love her?"

"Yes," he said seriously. "All the time."

"And she tells you?"

"Yeah," he grinned a little shyly.

"Well … there you go. Two steps … hell, you told me you know you want to spend the rest of your life with her … so I don't know … a thousand steps ahead of me."

"I'm not sure I get it."

Fitz looked to the heavens and thought. Then she closed her eyes and said, "I'm a coward about this. I can't tell her I love her. I can't even say the word." She shook her head and opened her eyes to look at Kristoff. "I've been close enough to death to smell its stinking breath and not nearly this afraid. But … every time I think about how I feel … how I really feel … I get this knot inside of me, and I'm … I'm … I'm frightened. I'm frightened that I'm not good enough, that I can't be good enough, that I can't be the person she deserves." Fitz blinked and then brought her hand up to wipe at the tears that were welling up in her eyes. "Damn, the water must be getting warmer," she muttered after a moment. "My eyes are sweating."

"That happens," Kristoff said with a nod.

Fitz pulled herself together and sat up straight, which had Kristoff searching for someplace else to look. Then with a chuckle, she said, "Look, you're good enough for Anna. She thinks so, and she loves you. Really, that's what counts. How you look, that we can fix. How you behave when you're in formal situations … that's a learned skill, too. Trust me, I did not come out of the womb this suave and charming."

Kristoff groaned, the 'real' Fitz had returned.

"So how about we … you and I … get you a slightly better wardrobe. It doesn't have to be uncomfortable. You probably won't even notice what you're wearing most of the time. I've probably been as active as you for most of my life. There are things you can wear that aren't … pelts or whatever those are."

"But I don't have …."

"You'll owe me," Fitz said archly. "You're going to be a Prince."

"Oh ..." Kristoff's eyes got wide. "Oh …I didn't think about that."

"Yeah, but don't worry. You're far more palatable than many of the Princes I know … some related to me." She snorted thinking about how her half brothers always whined like babies when she hit them. "So what do you say, Prince-to-be Kristoff? How about you and I go find us a nice tavern and get a room for a couple of nights. You know, to keep me out of the way for my requisite days." Kristoff sighed, she hadn't let go of that yet. Fitz continued, "Then tomorrow we can go find you a white shirt or two."

"Shopping?" Kristoff sounded dubious.

"I promise we'll make it quick. I don't have patience for fondling fabrics and such myself … and we can refresh ourselves at frequent intervals … I know there are a number of fine pubs in the city."

Kristoff thought about it and then nodded. He would go. He had nothing against a bed and hot meals cooked by someone else. He certainly looked forward to some decent ale, as they seem to have consumed most of his troll juice the night before. And then he laughed. This trip had turned out to be shopping after all.

A/N: Thanks to Grrlgeek72 for the beta.