QUICK NOTES:

I LOVED writing this chapter. If I ever bothered to title my installments, this one would be called "The Further (Platonic) Adventures of Elsa and Kristoff."

The evolving friendship between these two is just really fun to explore, especially because its starting point is so painfully awkward.

A note on Elsa's sexuality: I could not possibly be less interested in whether she's gay or straight. And here's why—it has no relevancy in the film. So you are welcome to read my Elsa as one or the other, or neither, or both, as long as you don't pair her up with Kristoff. Because Anna and Kristoff 4 evah.

Arendelle and its peeps aren't mine.

Chapter 6

Elsa continued to minister to her people as best she could in the weeks that followed, and since her relationship with Anna had been strained by their argument, it was not difficult to avoid contact with her. For while the queen was safe from the effects of the fever, she couldn't know whether her proximity to the sick and dying would make her a danger to those who had so far retained their good health. Which meant that Elsa, once again, must isolate herself from the rest of the castle.

No matter how hard she tried to shelter the princess, however, she could not prevent the inevitable from happening—and so the pestilence breached all of the castle's defenses in the end, and even the staff was no longer safe. It began with a servant girl named Sarah, whose job it was to wash and rinse the royal plates and cutlery. She'd been a stout and cheerful sort, and though neither the queen nor the princess had known her, they both wept bitterly—in their separate rooms, alone—when she succumbed, at last, to the terrible fever.

Anna would have been lying if she'd said she was not afraid, but she was also greatly preoccupied by the fact that Kristoff remained beyond her reach. She knew he'd made it safely down the mountain and that he and Sven had returned to the stables—but for how long she was uncertain. She could hardly blame him if he chose to leave, after all. He must be idling there, his usual duties made unnecessary by this wicked plague, and oh, how he must hate it! She understood him well enough to know that he craved movement—couldn't tolerate being in one place for too long—and that he preferred the wilderness beyond the city walls to Arendelle itself.

It did not occur to her that he had other reasons for staying.

She found, to her utter amazement, that she worried as much for him as she did for herself—if not more so—and this was a strange and bittersweet realization. So Anna paced the floor of her bedroom and wrung her hands and felt her insides twist with the fear that he, too, might fall ill.

And she began to scheme.

Still, it was Elsa who found him first—though it wasn't like he was hiding. He'd been brushing the grit out of Sven's coat one morning after they'd returned, and the queen overheard him "discussing" his options with the reindeer as she approached.

You can't just leave her. This, apparently, was Sven.

"What choice do I have?" retorted his companion. "There's no work for us here. And, anyway, they won't let anyone in the palace."

You miss her.

"I don't," said Kristoff sharply, but then his voice softened. "They're right, though, aren't they? I could make her sick."

But you're fine. You don't have this fever.

Kristoff didn't say anything.

You're not sick, insisted Sven.

And then Kristoff answered in a voice that was so quiet, Elsa almost didn't hear him—but she did, if only just, and it nearly broke her heart.

"How can I be so sure?"

At this point, Elsa's horse caught sight of her lurking in the stable door and nickered in greeting. Startled, Kristoff raised his head and knocked it hard against Sven's left antler.

"Ow!" he yelped, stumbling backwards and colliding with an empty bucket. It upended as he fell back into a pile of hay.

Sven sighed.

"Oh!" cried Elsa. "Sorry! I'm sorry. I just ... I came for Knut …

Kristoff flushed. "You don't have anything to be sorry for," he muttered. "You just ... caught me by surprise, that's all." He rubbed his head where it had bumped up against Sven, but then seemed to remember himself. Embarrassed, he scrambled to his feet and stood before the queen, his hair littered with hay stalks and stable dust. "Your, uh, Majesty."

Equally flustered, Elsa gave a dismissive wave of her hand.

"Please, Kristoff. We've been through this. It's Elsa."

He nodded, and they were quiet for a moment. They had been through this—through it and through it, until he'd finally been comfortable enough to take her at her word and dispense with the pleasantries. Not that she'd found it any easier to loosen up around him, in those days. She had almost killed him, after all ... Well, she hadn't tried to kill him—it wasn't on purpose.

It was an accident.

And he was so nice about it, just kind of wanted to forget that it ever happened. She was grateful to him, for that.

Last winter, they'd finally started to warm up to each other and get past their mutual embarrassment—him for his total lack of refinement, her for having locked the kingdom under a punishing layer of ice. It had even occurred to Elsa how much they'd had in common with each other: they both grew up pretty much on their own, they both preferred the company of, well, no one, and they both kind of had a thing for ice.

She liked him. She was glad that, in spite of all the terrible things that had happened that cold, cold summer, Anna and Kristoff had found each other.

Now Elsa glanced at him and couldn't help but smirk a little.

"You've got straw in your ..." she gestured vaguely at his head.

He reached up and turned a more violent shade of pink.

"Yeah, well … whose fault is that, Your Majesty?" He brushed off his sleeves and attempted to ruffle the chaff out of his hair. Then he grinned a little, and Elsa found herself smiling back.

"It's good to see you, Kristoff."

He said the same, and it looked like he genuinely meant it. Sven gave her hip an affectionate nuzzle, and she reached out and stroked his tender nose. They fell silent, each acutely aware of all that needed to be said between them—and neither knowing quite how to say it. Then Kristoff shook himself a little and moved to ready the queen's horse.

"Sorry," he murmured.

"Don't apologize."

He slipped the bridle gently under Knut's chin and adjusted the headstall around his ears. Elsa watched him quietly. He had an easy way with the animals, moving around their breadth with an almost graceful self-assurance. It was funny, in a way—so contrary to the way he comported himself around people.

Or maybe it was just her people.

"Are you going out on your own?" he asked, breaking into her thoughts.

She nodded.

"You're not worried, then? About ..." he trailed off.

Elsa gave him an appreciative smile. "A fever can't hurt me," she replied.

Kristoff tightened the horse's girth straps. "I still don't think you should go alone," he said casually. Cautiously.

"I'll be all right."

"You're the queen."

She shrugged. "You see many ruffians out on the streets these days?"

He scoffed amiably but ignored the question. "I'll go with you," he said.

"No."

"You can't stop me."

"Actually, I can."

"Not really," he said mildly. "I'll just follow you."

"To keep an eye on me?"

"Maybe."

"I'm the queen."

"So?"

"So I'm sort of the boss of you."

Kristoff laughed. "What are you going to do, throw me in prison?"

Elsa sighed. "Why are you doing this?"

He looked at her, confused. She was the sovereign leader of Arendelle, Anna's sister, and more importantly, a rare and actual friend. Why wouldn't he do this?

"Aren't you afraid of catching this ... this fever?" she demanded.

It was his turn to shrug. "I probably already have, by now." He turned his attention to Sven, who was rather disinclined to leave the warmth of his stall.

Elsa frowned. "You should be upset with me," she said.

"What on earth for?"

"Closing the gates. Not letting you see Anna."

Kristoff went still, his back to her.

"You did the right thing, Elsa," he said, without looking around. He palmed a bit of apple for Sven as a conciliatory gesture, and the reindeer finally consented to move. "You're just trying to keep her safe."

"She doesn't see it that way."

"Would you, in her place?" he asked, and it was a fair question. But then he did look up, and he met her eyes with an expression of such seriousness that it took her aback. Elsa was not accustomed to catching her ice master in such a mood—he wasn't much for displaying emotion, this one.

"Tell me she's OK," he said now. "I need to know."

His face was pale with worry, his eyes unnaturally bright. Elsa wanted to reach out and touch his forehead, make sure he wasn't too warm, but she didn't dare.

"Anna's fine," she assured him gently. It was true, for the most part. There was no point in elaborating. What good would it do, to tell him that the palace was no longer a failsafe against this cursed infection? It would only cause him greater anxiety, and for a thing over which he had no control. Better to leave him in ignorance.

They regarded each other for a beat; then Kristoff nodded curtly. The moment had passed. Once again, she was restrained and he was inscrutable; all was as it should be.

But then he offered her a hand up into the saddle, and he smiled just a little. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Elsa was comforted.