"Mawwage is what brings us together today." The ongoing saga of Anna and Kristoff's wedding maybe slightly in honor of Kristanna week. Kristanna, Fitzelsa (I'm deciding that's a thing)
Fitz and Kristoff sat in the back of the small stave church, trying very hard to blend in with the pews. They were close enough to the action that they could be considered there 'to help' with the wedding plans, yet far enough away that there was little chance they would actually be called upon to 'help'. They spoke in whispers, which was another attempt to remain invisible to everyone else in the room.
Fitz, a bemused smile lighting her face, gestured toward the front where both Elsa and Anna stood, talking – the sort of talk that uses more hands than lips. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone as excited about a wedding before."
"Well I've never actually seen anyone who was going to – you know – do a wedding, a human one anyway," Kristoff answered, chewing his bottom lip while his hand massaged the back of his neck. It was no secret he was nervous, terrified actually, but Fitz admired his version of the stiff upper lip as he tried to sound calm and casual. "But yeah, she's pretty excited. This morning at breakfast she was bouncing around in her chair talking about flowers and dresses and china and music – waving to the high heavens – reminded me of a troll baby with a new rock."
Fitz chuckled, "Hard to believe she's the Queen."
"Alright, alright I've got it! How about this?" Elsa held her hands high over her head and flicked her fingers in a rhythmic dance at the walls of the chapel. Instantly dozens of intricate vines made of ice sprouted from the rail of the gallery high above the nave. They flowed down the walls, flowers popping out where ever two vines touched, like crocuses pushing through the late spring snow. A wave of cold from the ice ran through the small church, but then the chill dissipated as quickly as it came. Elsa practiced her magic as much as one might any art or science, and the result was ever increasing control, presuming she was calm.
"Oh, Elsa," Anna exclaimed. "That's perfect!" She spun and raised her hands toward the ceiling. "Now, how about a row of chandeliers running down the middle of the aisle – pew, pew, pew – just like the ones in your ice palace – it's a bit dark in here.
Elsa sighed. This wasn't the first time her sister had made the suggestion. "No, Anna."
"Come on."
"Anna, we've been over this. All it takes is one ill-intentioned man with a crossbow and …"
"OK, OK." Anna pouted only for a moment before her face lit up again. "But we're still good with the icy carriage, right?"
"Of course."
"And all the china at the reception."
"Yes, although I don't think you can call it china if it's ice."
"And the cake stand?"
"Yes."
"And the stage for the musicians, but you have to make that your special not-so-slippery ice."
"Yes – not so slippery – just like the dance floor." Elsa smiled remembering that experiment.
"Champagne glasses? And the cutlery?"
"Yes."
"And adding Castille to the honeymoon."
"Yes …" Elsa continued, the answer by now rote – then she frowned. "Wait …"
"Can't go back now, the Queen has spoken," Anna crowed; she had been angling to add Castille to their trip ever since she heard about the new young queen there. Elsa had been resistant, worrying about "political instability," a phrase Anna always put in air quotes.
"Anna …"
"The Queen has spoken." Anna waggled her finger and shot Elsa a cheesy grin. Elsa had pulled the 'queen has spoken thing' more than once in their honeymoon discussions. It was bad enough that she and Kristoff were touring Europe with a full complement of guards, at least if they had to have company on their honeymoon, they should be able to take that company and go where Anna wanted.
"Very well," Elsa sighed and then chuckled. "You just out negotiated me, didn't you?"
"Yes!" Anna squealed, clapping her hands together. "And it was wonderful!"
"You're getting better. Although most diplomacy has less of a 'gotcha' feel to it, you stinker."
"I know you are, but what am I?"
Elsa raised her eyes skyward – and watched a giant snowball materialize and drop right on her sister's head.
"Oooooh! Cooold," Anna shrieked. "Stinker!"
"I know you are, but what am I?" Elsa snickered back.
Anna breathed heavily in exasperation and reached down the back of her dress. Pulling out a full handful of snow, she chucked it at her sister. "Take that, Stinker!"
"Oh, really!" Elsa gestured and a mound of snow dropped from thin air to cover Anna to the knees.
"Ammunition!" Anna cried and she began scooping up handfuls, fashioning them into snowballs and pelting Elsa. Elsa threw snowballs right back. Soon the aisle of the chapel featured full fledged snow drifts.
"Our cue," Fitz whispered, as she tugged on Kristoff's sleeve.
"What?"
Fitz guided him to one of the back doors, all the while expounding quietly, "Discretion: the better part of valour – beating a well thought out retreat – avoiding collateral damage, as much as we are likely to be the collateral – and sweet freedom for the afternoon, freedom to answer the call of the …"
"Pub?" Kristoff asked.
"Good man!" came the answer.
# # #
Fitz and Kristoff managed to sneak out of the chapel and into Arendelle proper to their favorite drinking spot, the "Spruce and Herring" tavern and inn. This was the public house Fitz had run to after her disastrous first meeting with Elsa. It was also the place where she and Kristoff had come to drink rather than hunt and ended up in jail after a rousing fight, and the place where Fitz had come to cry on the well-endowed – shoulder – of the most popular bar maid in Arendelle: Brandy.
A few mugs of ale into the evening, Kristoff turned to Fitz and asked, "Do you mind if I ask you something?"
"If it be right and true," she answered lifting her mug in the air in a mock salute. Then she saw his face. He was serious. This must be serious. "Of course you can Kristoff, ask anything … anything."
"Well, I'm asking for Anna. Well – not for Anna but for Anna if you know what I mean."
Fitz didn't have a clue, but she nodded encouraging him to continue.
"You know we're … she's a … well I haven't either … I mean everyone thinks I have, but I haven't … I never really liked anyone before Anna … you know except Sven and that – despite what everyone says – is right out. One day I'll find him his own little reindeer … ess."
Fitz puzzled it through, what Kristoff had said – well mumbled. And after a good two minutes of ale enhanced pondering, she finally said, "Sex. You've never had sex. You're a virgin. She's a virgin, and you're a virgin."
"Ssssssh!" Kristoff hissed. "You don't have to tell everyone."
"Very well," Fitz said more quietly. "You're both virgins. Some people are on their wedding night. Is that a problem?"
"Well I just want … I mean I know I'll enjoy myself, at least that's what everyone's, all the guys and all, the other ice harvesters, been saying …" he blushed at the thought, "but I want Anna to …" He rubbed the back of his neck. "Have fun, too. And I thought … maybe you could … 'cause you know a lot … about women … in that way."
"Oh." Fitz nodded, and then again more knowingly. "Oh, right indeed. Well then you've come to the right place." She tossed down the last of her ale and signaled for the barkeep to refill her mug. "The right place indeed. I don't know many men who can satisfy – I mean really satisfy – a woman the way I can. It's a gift. I've been told so by many women who were in 'the position' to make that comparison."
Kristoff groaned at the pun and wondered if four pints in was really the best time to get this advice.
"So listen close, my good man, and take careful notes."
"I don't think I'll be in a good position to look at notes when …"
"Bloody hell, that was just a … a something." Fitz waved her hand about as she fumbled for the words. "You don't have to take notes really. There's just a few things you need to remember. Just take my words to heart. First is," she pointed at his crotch, "Wee Willie Winkie there is gonna have to be patient. There's a time for his ugly mug but it ain't right out of the gate."
"'s not that wee," Kristoff muttered, shifting on his bar stool.
"So more the reason to take your time, my man," Fitz nodded at her own sage words. "Taking your time is really the whole key. Take your time and hear every noise she makes, her breathing, her moans, her gasps – feel her every reaction, the quickening of her pulse, the flush of her skin, how she trembles, and when she becomes moist with wanting. She is your instrument and you … you my friend are the virtuoso."
"Time, listen, feel, wanting, instrument," Kristoff repeated echoing the intensity of Fitz's lecture. "Uh, but I thought that being a vir - virtuoso is why I'm asking you?"
Fitz smacked herself and said, "VIRTUOSO, not virgin! A virtuoso is a skilled player of a musical instrument. Anna is your instrument, Kristoff! Anna's your god damn lute of love." She glared at him until the light dawned, then went on.
"So first, before a shred of silk is removed or a tie undone, is the kiss …" Fitz continued her comprehensive lecture to her appreciative student until it was time to return to the castle for dinner.
Later that night…
Elsa's back arched as she gasped through her orgasm, "oh my yes, oh my yes … oh my!" Her muscles clenched and shook and her peak continued in waves until finally she thought the pleasure would explode from the back of her head if it didn't stop, so she pulled her hips sharply backward while holding Fitz away.
Fitz wriggled from her grasp but then just flopped up to the top of the bed where Elsa was still breathing hard. She wore a very self satisfied smirk, clasping her hands behind her head.
"Oh … my … that was quite … you were quite … something," Elsa said as her breathing began to slow.
"Yes," Fitz agreed whole heartedly. She was bubbling with bravado from her tutoring session with Kristoff. "It's a gift. My gift. And let me tell you, your sister is one lucky woman."
"My sister." Elsa muttered, and she started to snuggle into Fitz's arms, then her eyes sprang open, and she sat bolt upright, "My sister! What about my sister?"
"Well while you two where busy with your 'decorating', Kristoff and I…" Fitz filled her in on the highlights of the afternoon's discussion.
"Well that's thoughtful … I guess." Elsa tried to ignore the strangeness of her lover coaching her sister's fiance on the ways of making love, but it wouldn't stay ignored. Something nagged. "So what exactly did you tell him?"
"A comprehensive guide, the M.C. Fitzwilliam Authoritative Treatise on the Art of Pleasing a Woman, from Kiss to Cuddle and Everything In Between."
"Hmmmm." The nagging suspicion was not abated. "And that entails?"
Fitz opened her mouth – and then considered what she had been talking about – and to whom she was talking now. "I promise that all practical examples were presented in a strictly theoretical framework."
"Practical examples?" Elsa's afterglow was overtaken by a creeping wave of apprehension.
"Any revealing preferences or desires were included only because of the familial nature of the subjects and the likelihood of some parallel natures."
Sadly unlike Kristoff, Elsa was not thrown off by an extensive vocabulary.
"What exactly did you tell him?"
"No names were used."
"No NAMES were used?"
"No distinguishing features were discussed?"