Despite their spat yesterday, and Elsa's unnerving nightmare last night, Anna was more than happy to spend some teatime with her sister – if she didn't look so nervous about it.

Sitting at the table on the balcony, just outside one of the parlors, Anna thanks the young servant woman who just brought them some warm cups, and a three-tier dessert stand. Elsa is staring out towards town, as if she could see Michael from a thousand yards away.

The assassin had already left to head into town to check about the murders – of which still gives Anna chills to think about. She was surprised Elsa had let him go so soon, even with Ida's approval. She was even more surprised when Elsa wanted to have some tea with her. She just assumed her sister would stay in Michael's rooms all day, or at least until he returned.

From the way she acted last night, and into the morning, Anna assumed she either wasn't going to let him out of her sight, or she would stay the hell away from him out of guilt.

Either way, this is a much better outcome. But it doesn't stop Anna from saying, "If you weren't going to pay attention to me, then why ask me for tea?"

Elsa's head snaps to her, eyes wide; surprised to see Anna has caught her. She blinks and her shoulders slouch. "Oh, I'm sorry, Anna. I'm just distracted."

So that's it. Anna folds her lips in, stirring the cream into her tea.

She tries to ignore the hurt in her chest. Of course Elsa would want to meet out of some bother, rather than to just spend time with her. But again, Anna tries to convince herself that Elsa wants to speak to her about something at least – keeping to the promise they made to one another not to shut each other out.

"What is it?" Anna asks, setting the spoon down on a napkin next to her.

Her sister's gaze now sits upon the cup of tea in front of her. Her hands are folded in her lap, white knuckled, no doubt. "It's about Michael."

Anna pauses the teacup midair, the tea barely a centimeter away from spilling onto her olive colored dress. She didn't think she could hide the aggravated sigh and the disappointed slouch in her shoulders this time as she set the cup down. "What is it?"

Elsa takes a deep breath, her eyes flickering back and forth as her hands look for something to do. They settle for gripping the teacup. Elsa looks up to her, folding her lips in, color high on her cheeks. Whatever it is, it certainly has Elsa shaken.

"I think Michael has magic." she blurts, the words sounding so pushed.

Anna's brows lift, her eyes widening in shock.

Yes, that would definitely have anyone shaking.

Anna is left speechless, only able to conjure up a single word. "What?" Elsa nods, and the princess leans in. "Are you sure? H-How do you even know?"

Her sister's gaze returns to the cup, her hands visibly trembling. "After what happened last night, I used my magic to heal him – and it worked, but . . ." Elsa's hands drop to her lap, no doubt wringing her fingers like she does out of nervous habit. Anna wouldn't be surprised if the skirts of Elsa's slim, tangerine gown were covered in wrinkles. "I think I discovered something I wasn't supposed to."

"How do you know it's magic?"

"Because of how it responded to me; how my magic responded to it. It had no form, no distinct ability, but I knew what it was. My magic knew what it was."

"Have you told him, yet?"

"No, and I don't know how to. I'm worried he'll be upset with me."

"Why? You saved his limbs, Elsa, literally. How could he be mad at you?"

"Because of how it happened – I felt like I was intruding; even worse, what if I was the one who woke it up?" Anna's blink is the only tell of her surprise. "It was just, sitting there, deep within him, and when I found it, I could feel it looking at me. Acknowledging me. And then it felt like this tidal wave of power just barreling towards me –"

"Elsa, this is huge. No matter how you discovered it, no matter what he'll think of you, he deserves to know." Her older sister nods, but Anna noted how her eyebrows lifted ever so slightly; surprised that she was defending him. Assassin or not – or whatever he calls himself – if Michael has magic it's his complete right to know about it. It's a part of who he is, maybe even part of his heritage.

"I know you're right, I just . . . I'm still in shock about it." Elsa adds, finally taking a sip of her tea.

"Did he mention anything about it before?"

Elsa nods. "He had said something about healers marrying into his family, but he never showed any signs before. And that he never cared to look for it."

Rays of sunlight break through the large, fluffy clouds behind her sister, making the embroidered beads of her sister's dress twinkle like the early night stars. She's returned her gaze out towards the kingdom, her collarbone becoming distinct as she takes a deep breath, her braid falling over her shoulder.

"Why do I get the feeling you're happy about this?" Anna suddenly blurts, narrowing her brows.

Elsa jerks her head back to her, her cyan eyes hardening. "What do you mean?"

Her tone is as sharp as a blade, but still Anna says, "Well despite everything you've told me, you almost seem like you're happy he has magic."

Suddenly Elsa's spine seems to steel, her chin lifts, shoulders squared. "And what if I am? Can you blame me? There's finally someone else out there who's like me."

Anna feels the verbal slap to the face.

Like me –two words that rake through Anna's skin down to her bones. No matter how hard she's tried to understand her sister's abilities, there will always be a line that she'll never be able to cross. There are things she will never understand, and with so many years apart, but even more together, it still kills Anna inside.

"Elsa you don't even know if he'll be happy about having them; if he'll even want to learn how to use them."

Even if she doesn't have magic, Anna is certainly educated enough to understand some aspects of it: how some magic users will consume iron-laced water and food in order to keep their powers weakened; the different types of magic that require words, and some simply require will power; how some wielders claim to have a separate housing for their magic - a well some call it. She might not know every in and out of magic itself, but Elsa could at least give her some credit of trying to learn, trying to understand.

"No matter his decision, at least he won't have to be alone."

Anna bites her lip, trying to control her breathing as she takes a sip of her tea. Somehow it tastes more bitter than a couple minutes ago. Elsa seems to notice this because her sister sighs.

"Anna, I don't blame you for anything. I just don't want Michael to go through the same thing I went through."

"I had made multiple attempts to try and be with you, Elsa, but you always rejected me." Anna mumbles through grit teeth.

"I told you I was just trying to protect you." Elsa retorts.

"I would've understood."

"I never said you wouldn't. But I wasn't sure if I would hurt you or not. I didn't understand my powers, I didn't know how to control them. I didn't want to take the risk of hurting you, even if you knew." Elsa's breaths are short, her words so pushed, as if they were fighting to get out. "I don't know what your problem is; all I want is for Michael to know that I'm there for him."

Anna growls through grit teeth, standing up so abruptly that she almost knocks her chair over. "And yet you're there for him more than me!"

Elsa has since reduced to her queenly posture that gets Anna positively irate. Her shoulders are square, her spine steeled, her chin high and breathing level as she says, "I've already told you why I couldn't. And I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. But since we're being honest with each other, why don't you just tell me why you're acting like this?"

"I just don't trust him, Elsa."

Elsa almost snarls at her as she slaps her napkin on the table, sending her own chair skittering across the weathered wood. "We've been over this, Anna. If you would just take the time to get to know him, you would see –!"

Elsa begins taking steps into the parlor to leave, but Anna steps in front of her. "See what? That you're not being rational?!"

"Anna –!"

"No! Ever since that man came into our lives, you've been nothing but careless! No matter what he does, he could still turn on us in a second. Why are you mad at me for trying to protect us, over some stranger you've only known for a few days?!"

"Because I understand him, Anna! He's been through so much, just as we have!" Anna chuckles manically, befuddled at her sister's response. Elsa seemingly unphased, continues. "He lost his parents too, Anna. Where were lucky to have them die at sea, he watched his own father get executed! Beheaded right in front of him, and then his mother died to give him a fighting chance; having to spend the rest of his days working with rebels, winning a civil war in his own kingdom –!"

Elsa pauses, Anna wide-eyed from the revelation stares in shock, her mouth agape. Elsa, suddenly growing aware of the personal secret she just blurted, folds her lips in. She turns away, continuing into the parlor, her breathing becoming labored. Anna stands there for a moment, her heart beating twice as fast.

It makes sense, she supposes. Anyone who watched their own parents die would have a reason to go into a rather, violent profession. Anna can't imagine what she would do, or what she would become if she watched her parents die – whether by sea or by axe. She shivers at the image.

Elsa is pacing back and forth across the foyer as Anna heavily sighs before entering. "I didn't know." She mumbles.

Without even looking at her – or pausing her constant pacing – Elsa grits through her white teeth "No, you didn't."

"Elsa, please" – Anna grabs her sister's wrist to cease, forcing her to stop and to look at her – "I've told you why I can't trust him."

"And we've been over on why you should, so why have this conversation?"

"Because I feel like there's something else going on between you two, something you're not telling me."

Elsa was about to wrench her wrist free, but she settles down, her shoulders slouching as she continues to take paced breaths. "If this is about the assassins and the murders, you know just as much as I do. With Michael, there is more that I know about him, yes, but only because I chose to attempt to get to know him. If you want to find out more about him, you'll have to go and talk to him yourself. I'm not one to blather about his life." Elsa folds her arms, casting her gaze downward to her toes. "It's none of my business." Elsa wrings her fingers for a moment before she finishes with, "You can't judge a person you just met until you get to know them. You of all people should know that."

Anna huffs in frustration, but as she's about to say something, Kai comes in. His cheeks are a little redder than normal, despite his skin looking pale. Anna hates to think about what they might've seen. The steward pats his forehead with a handkerchief before taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders. "He has returned, Your Majesty."

Elsa takes hastily steps towards Kai, so much so that he actually leans back at her approach. "What did he find? Where is he?" Her sister asks as she looks over Kai's shoulder.

"He said he was going to the library. He wanted to do some . . . research."

"Research? On what? What did he find out there?" Anna asks as she approaches from behind her sister.

In an instant, the steward's face ghost from a ghostly white, to a sickly olive green. He brings the handkerchief to his mouth, as if the keep from vomiting. "It was . . . not a pleasant sight, My Ladies. I'd like to not recall the details, if it is alright with you."

"Of course, Kai. Don't worry about it." Elsa dismisses with a gentle hand on the man's shoulder.

Suddenly Kai is mumbling, more to himself than to them. "I don't understand how someone can look at that . . . mess, and not lose the entirety of his stomach."

He begins to walk away before the women have a chance to stop him. They stare after him for a moment before heading towards the library. Anna bites her tongue to keep from prodding at her sister.

Michael had the location of the library memorized the moment Elsa had shown him where it was. It wasn't the most spectacular thing – he's seen bigger and honestly, better libraries during his travels – but it had books and likely it had information on the kingdom and its history.

And yes, maybe it did feel a little cozier than most.

He copied the runes he saw at the crime scene as best he could, the feeling of them burning a hole in his pocket followed him all the way back to the castle. He didn't want to waste any time beginning his research on what the marks could mean – though a part of him already had a suspicious feeling on their origin.

Outside the crosshatched window, a heavy rainstorm had taken over the kingdom skies, as if the day didn't feel dreary enough. He hopes it won't hinder the guards in cleaning up the mess, but it'll at least help wash the blood into the sewers.

Michael had been so focused on getting to the library he didn't even bother to stop into his rooms to drop off his mask and cowl. Now they simply lay atop the cushions of the couch, some of his larger weapons laying next to them: his bow and arrow, primarily. The duel short swords stay strapped to his back, and of course, the multiple daggers he has both visible and hidden all along his armor.

As he runs his fingers along the spines of the books, he looks up the shelf to the older looking tomes. The runes he found at the crime scene looked old, dating back decades when compared to the books Elsa had given him. Enough for him to conclude that and older kind of magic may be at play. If the king had chosen to collect or keep such books, then they wouldn't be at the bottom of the shelf . . .

Michael begins to climb the ladder attached to the shelves. He makes to the second shelf from the top, looking over the spines for their names. Unfortunately, they don't offer such things. Just different colors all intricately detailed with similar stencils of flowers and vines. Still, Michael pulls one from the shelf, opening to the middle of the tome.

Inside are words written in runes that look very comparable to the ones he traced at the scene. Balancing the book in on hand, Michael fishes out the paper from his pocket with the other. He places the paper inside the book as he unfolds it, only to be disappointed when they don't match.

And that he can't read the writing of the old language. Of course, his notes aren't the neatest; he just copied them down as quickly as he could – fearing they would disappear the moment he started to copy them.

Behind him, the library doors open and just from the gait of the two pairs of footsteps that follow, he knew it was Elsa and Anna. Still, he continues to look at the book, flipping through the pages to see if any of the runes match.

"Michael," Elsa says as he feels the ladder vibrate every so slightly. He looks down to find her hand braced on one of the legs. "What happened? What did you see?"

He claps the book shut, the edge of the paper sticking out of the top to mark his place. He adjusts his feet and slides down the ladder, near missing Princess Anna's foot. She scoffs and pouts at him, to which Michael responds with a cocky grin that he knew would make her see red.

He opens the book again and walks over to the end table poised at the head of a divan. "The crime scene was definitely gruesome." He begins. "It had the townspeople spooked for sure."

"What did you see?" Elsa repeats. "Kai grew sickly just at remembering it."

Behind her, Anna approaches, crossing her arms and remaining quiet. Flattening the pages and the paper, Michael rests his fingers on the pages as he looks to the royals. He can't hide his surprise at the earnest on the sisters' features.

"You really want to know?" Elsa nods, Anna following, but the gesture is hesitant. Michael sighs. "The victim was a young man – a year or two younger than me. When I arrived, he was lying in a puddle of his own blood, his clothes having been ripped from his body." Michael casts his gaze down, towards the runes. Upon looking at them, his stomach seems to twist with unease. "The man's chest cavity had been split open and his vital organs removed. His face, stripped of its flesh, and his throat was sliced ear to ear. His head looked as though it had been smashed in, the top cracked open and – I'm sorry, you look as though you're going to be sick."

Indeed, it was more obvious on the queen with her pale skin, Anna a little less so. But he could see their widened eyes, their shoulders rising and falling with quick breaths. Elsa's hand has gone to cover her mouth – out of fear or sickness, he doesn't know – but she then asks him, "Are you okay?"

The question surprises Michael so much he looks to the queen with confusion. "I didn't know him," he says with a shrug of his shoulders. "though that's not to say it isn't a tragic event."

"I mean, are you okay?" Elsa emphasizes, taking a single step towards him. "Seeing something like that couldn't be easy."

Another shrug of Michael's shoulders as he picks up the book and resumes flipping through the pages. "I've seen worse while fighting with the rebels."

The following silence has him looking up towards the sisters. He finds them near glaring at one another; so focused between the two of them they don't notice his stare. No doubt they must've had another spat while he was away.

He decides to spare them by looking back down and continuing with, "But on another note, there was something else there that was rather, disturbing."

"And it's the reason why you're at the library?" Anna finally asks.

Michael nods. He picks up the paper and holds it out to the sisters. "There were marks that were drawn all around the body. I've never seen them before, but I have a feeling they could be mystical."

Elsa takes the paper, Anna leaning in. Once Elsa is satisfied, she lets Anna take the paper next. "And what's with the book?" the queen asks.

"I wanted to see if it matched the older texts, see if there was some kind of connection."

Anna is still studying the paper as Elsa approaches to look at the book. Michael tries not to blush too much as the queen giggles. "Well, I don't think you're going to find much mysticism in our family tree."

He thwacks the book shut with a jaunty retort ready when he blinks with realization, "Wait, you can actually read this?"

"Elsa more than me, but yes. It was something taught to us, for just, learning's sake, I guess." Anna says with a shrug of her shoulders. She hands the paper back to Elsa. "But something about those marks you wrote seems, different."

"I don't know if this is even in Old Norse; the writing style is different." Elsa mumbles as she rounds the end table to sit on the couch.

"Well it could just be my handwriting, combined with the fact that it was written in someone's blood, could have made it distorted." Michael says as he goes to place the book back on the shelf. He bites his lip in regret as he caught a glimpse of the sisters' worried expressions.

He hears Anna shift his mask, cowl, and weapons as she sits on the couch.

As he climbs the ladder, he asks, "Does any of that look familiar?"

"Some symbols look familiar, but I can't really tell what they mean. Let alone if they form any words." Says Elsa.

Michael slides back down the ladder and approaches the couch. Elsa is sitting closest to the arm, Anna on her left. He walks up and leans a hand on the arm, leaning over Elsa to peer at the paper.

"Do you recognize it from any other language?"

Elsa shakes her head in disappointment. "No."

He hands the paper to him when Anna says, "But we do know somebody who might."

Michael and Elsa look to the princess confused, but the queen's brows quickly rise with her eyes widening in realization. "You think . . .?"

"Maybe. They're almost as old as the land itself."

"What?" Michael asks.

The sisters look at him with impish smiles that make him grit his teeth behind closed lips.

"We may know someone who can read these marks; maybe even recognize where they come from." Says Anna.

"Can we meet them today?"

"They live a bit of ways away from us, but we can get there in a day's ride." Anna says as she flicks her eyes between him and Elsa. She then stands, wiping her hands on her thighs. "But we can worry about that tomorrow."

"What, why not today?"

Elsa stands, placing a hand on Michael's shoulder, looking just as confused. "Anna?"

Anna gives an impish grin as she folds her hands together in that incessant royal etiquette. "I believe someone has a ball to attend tomorrow, and I'm not going to have you postpone it any longer."

Elsa's shoulders slouch with a heavy sigh of annoyance. "Anna –"

They exchange a quick glance – of folded lips and insistent eyes and the raising of brows; a hidden language between the sisters – before Anna inhales deeply, suddenly chipper as she says, "Well, I need to go and pick out my gown, Elsa you do as well. The royal dressers aren't going to tolerate your procrastination any longer."

With that the princes turns and makes to leave for the library, as graceful as a doe. Perplexed, but not caring to ask questions, Michael simply takes the paper from Elsa before gathering his things. "Well, if you two insist I suppose I could just do some research and see if there's any connection to the victim and you two; in regards to the Inferno Assassins."

Casting a glance to the queen, Michael is troubled to see her so tense.

So, he sighs and stands straight before asking, "Okay. What's wrong?"

Having been staring at nothing, lost in thought, Elsa blinks a couple times before she looks to him. "What?"

She's wringing her fingers again.

Something is bothering her. And suddenly Anna's little excuse suddenly makes sense. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, um, nothing." Elsa insists, letting her hands fall to her sides. "Just, just tired."

She walks past Michael to the doors to the library, and Michael almost let her leave, almost let her think she was free before he says, "You and your sister are hiding something."

The Snow Queen pauses, her shoulders and spine tensing as she looks over her shoulder.

"You two were exchanging glances as if you are concocting some secret agenda. Is everything alright?" Michael points his finger at the queen and at the empty space where the princess was seconds ago.

"Michael, nothing's wrong." Elsa insists. Yet her fingers are now fiddling with the skirt of her gown, knowing if she wrings her fingers it's a definite tell. Michael would've let it go, but the nervousness and concern on her face only makes him more worried for her.

Outside the window, thunder rolls as the rain splatters itself against the glass.

He takes a single stride towards her, placing his hand on her shoulder this time. "Look, I know you and your kingdom are scared. But I promise I will do what I can to protect you and your sister."

The queen has kept her gaze on the floor but then looks to him. She folds her lips in before sighing. "Right. I know. I just . . ."

"Did you want to talk about it?" Michael asks. He returns to gathering his things; lazily carrying his weapons on his shoulder, his hand carrying the mask and cowl.

"No, no it's not important right now."

"You sure?" He looks back and finds the queen still fidgeting, but she shakes her head and follows him towards the doors to the library.

"Yes. Thank you for your concern."

He holds it open for her, earning an appreciated nod. She leaves first, the air left in her wake smelling like snow-covered lilacs.

As they're walking down the hallway, their footsteps muffled by the plush carpet, Elsa suddenly says. "Do you mind if we wait until, after the ball to talk about it?" Michael looks to her, she looks to him. "Less distraction, then?" Gods – her lashes are so dark and full.

Michael blinks for a second before he answers. "Yeah, sure. I don't mind. Whatever you're comfortable with. You are the Queen of Arendelle."

That at least draws a small chuckle from her. "Sometimes I forget that, myself."

They reach the intersecting halls where their rooms branch in different directions, Michael aiming to head to his bedrooms. "Well, I won't keep you from your important fitting, Your Majesty."

Michael dramatically bows, Elsa smacking him in the arm in retaliation. He spares a small smile before turning and heading to his suite.

Thought he didn't turn around, he could feel the queen's stare follow him down the hall to his doors.

He tries to ignore the shiver that crawls up his spine.