AN: Okay, yeah, my updates are slow these days. Too slow, even by my standards, but sometimes life throws you a curveball you just have to deal with before everything else. I hope it's not too rambling, even if that is half my style for this.


Friday evening, and we're getting ready for the masquerade. My mind is still focused on earlier in the day—not when we were having fun, but when Joan figured out what Cass still being here meant. The look she gave me after I just nodded. I'm not actually sure how to describe it. Confusion, disgust, curiosity, realisation—it was all of those things, and none of them at the same time. I'm not sure if there was any acceptance in there, or understanding. That's not up to me though. If she asks about anything, I'll be honest. I've even told her she can ask.

Maybe it's like I've fallen off some kind of pedestal or something; not that I really think she holds me up like that. And because I was so young when I lost my parents, I've got no frame of reference for what she might be feeling or going through. Kristoff might, and I know she's confided in him before, so maybe. I don't know. It threw me, though, seeing that look from her. It felt almost like I'd let her down somehow. Maybe that's what I should ask about, later. It might be a hard conversation, but I think it might be necessary. She's only fifteen after all. Fifteen and a half, she's been insisting recently.

I have to put it out of my mind, concentrate while I'm applying just a little bit of make up. Dark eye shadow, and just a touch of red glitter. I want to accent the mask—a new one, this year. I bought it months ago, when I realised just how much better simply telling our story has made me feel. Red and gold, feathers of a bird enveloped in flame. Or made of flame. Or both. A phoenix, rising from the ashes. And a black dress, long, flowing, with a low back and narrow waist. The corset—which I'll admit to liking too much for formal occasions like this—really helps me fill it out. Panels of gold lace around the shoulders and up from the hips help tie it to the mask.

Behind me, I can see Kristoff getting ready, putting on the final touches for his suit. Dapper, dark green, with a riding coat, and specially made boots. His mask is a great stag rather than his usual reindeer. Tonight, he is Oberon, lord of the forest. We might be mixing up some mythology, but he's meant to be life, and earth, and death, while I'm fire, and air, and rebirth. Some forests need fire to regrow. We thought it'd be an interesting talking point, if nothing else. Probably more likely to ask about the costumes, and if we want to attend one of the many afterparties. Half of those, I'm sure, are just excuses to do what we did with Cass last night—just with rather more people. Not that I can really judge.


Most of the night is much the same as always, dancing, trading small talk, perhaps some very suggestive looks or whispers. The ballroom is elegance itself, fine curtains hung around the windows, crystal chandeliers lit low, and outside lights just enough to show the steady snowfall. It feels like I'm in a different time. Or I could be. Maybe something out of high society in the past, or the future, even. Maybe the subtle lighting is just making me nostalgic. It's time for the slow dance, and I'm next to Kristoff. We always arrange it this way. I remember the first time you brought me, and we slow danced together around the room.

"Anna?"

"Sorry," I kiss him on the cheek. "Lost in thought again."

"About Elsa?"

"I know…" but he just rests his forehead against mine, calming me before I start.

"Is it bad of me to say I thought something like this might happen?"

"Only a little," I pull him closer as we shuffle around the floor. "I should have figured it out myself."

"Maybe," I love how supportive he is. Really. You knew better than me, even then. "But you—sometimes you can surprise yourself, feistypants."

"I can surprise you too," I give him a gentle headbutt before turning around to fall into his arms at the end of the dance.

"Wanna head back before we get invited to Snow's?" The pause is too long, we both know it. "Again." Deadpan.

Stories of what goes on at her afterparty are legendary, but we'd rather hear them than be part of them. We both agreed on that a long time ago. Some of the others are filtering out as well. Kristoff hands me his jacket as we head out—I left mine in the car, it wasn't really snowing when we arrived. There's not that much snow, but it's enough that we're extra careful on the drive home.

When we get home, Joan's sprawled out on the couch, watching something on the TV. She's got a blanket and some snacks, and when her phone beeps with a message she covers the screen with a hand before turning to us.

"Aren't you two kinda early?"

"Not really." I gesture vaguely to the clock. I get the feeling she lost track of time somewhere. Probably talking with Tina.

"Oh, oh. It really is that late. I must've dozed off."

I turn to Kristoff. "Something to eat?"

"Order in?"

"Nah," I shake my head, moving in to the kitchen with him. "We can make something light, right?"

"Sure," he winks at me. "Maybe add way too much chocolate."

"I was thinking like a toasted sandwich or something. Midnight BLT's," I look down at the clock on the oven. "Okay, ten-thirty-ish."

And now Kristoff is whispering something very, very bad to me. I like it. So much so I give him a playful spank. Suddenly he's too close, hugging me from behind, holding me. I can feel his breath against my ear, and something else against my back. A large—very large—part of me wants to. But Joan is in the next room, and we're still fully dressed. It doesn't stop me from grinding against Kristoff, just a little. His hands move to grab a handful of me—of the best bits. I turn slightly, craning my neck so I can kiss him.

"I thought we agreed… later?"

"We did," his hands wrap around my waist again, a gentle squeeze. "But warming up is fun, right?"

"Warming up some food would be better," I grab the sandwich press out of the cupboard. "Grab the bacon?" I can hear the fridge open behind me.

"You'll be making me some, right?"

I turn to give him a mischievous grin. "Of course I'll finish your sandwiches."

"I said make, not eat."

"Okay, fine." As I'm buttering the bread, a thought occurs to me. "So about Joan… knowing…?"

"I don't know, she hasn't talked to me either." I can almost hear his shrug.

"Should we just tell her?"

"I think we should give her a couple of days, at least," I like the way he's massaging my shoulders. "She might ask to talk to one of us."

"Maybe," I close the press on the first couple of BLT's. "I'm just not sure how to handle this, with her."

"Well she knows we still do it, despite our advanced age," he gives me a little head boop as he says it. "So surely it can't be that much of a shock, right?"

"I just don't know; and you know how I don't like that."

"Yes, I do know you. I know how terrible you are," he chuckles softly. "And how terribly good you are at learning other people's secrets by accident."

"I am sometimes, aren't I?"

He just smiles, and we go back forth for a bit while we wait for the toasties to be done. It's not long, and it also saves me from talking my way into even more problems. Afterwards, a quick peek into the living room and Joan's nowhere to be seen. The blanket's sort-of folded into the corner, so she must have gone to bed. Or at least to her room, it's the weekend so she'll be up texting Tina until the small hours of the morning, I'm sure. As for us, well, no one's going to find us now, and I really did like what Kristoff was doing earlier…


"And she just said yes?" Joan's look of incredulity is hilarious. She's sitting on the opposite end of the couch from me, and we're both ignoring the morning cartoons. "Just like that?"

"Actually, she asked us."

"Wait, what?" Her hands are doing the opposite pointing thing again. "Huh?" There's another long pause. "So you and dad just said 'yes'?"

"No," I shake my head, pulling my blanket a little higher at the same time. "We talked about it, for like a week. Then I went out to dinner with her that time, then we talked some more. Then we both realised we were on board with the idea. So no, we didn't just say 'yes' when she asked. We talked, made sure we were both okay with it. We weren't going to try and hide it from you either—you'd figure it out sooner or later."

"Too smart for my own good, sometimes." The way she's shaking her head; and the way her hair's just a bit unruly right now—God, it reminds me so much of you when you'd get a bit frazzled. It also reminds me how much she really is our daughter.

"Elsa could be like that too." And now the look she's giving me…

"Mom, you can't just say that and not give me some story, you know the rules."

—∞—

We were both flaked out in the attic. It was raining, because of course it was, but Elsa was right next to me, under the same blanket. She was trying so hard to help me appreciate the rain, instead of being scared of it. This time her plan was so bold it surprised me. It was also simple—and that's why we were naked under the blanket. Her subtle disappointment at my obvious distraction was less simple, but understandable. I wanted to as well, but I still had so many hang-ups. Enough issues to be a year's subscription. I couldn't help the laugh.

"What is so funny, Anniken?" Her confusion was oddly cute.

"It's a stupid joke: 'I've got so many issues it's a year's subscription'."

It really wasn't that funny, but the way she laughed… I just had to laugh along with her. The laughter faded away, leaving just the muffled sound of rain against the roof, and much closer, Elsa's quiet breathing. She really was quite close, pressing into my side. I could feel her chin against my shoulder, her arm under mine as she found my hand. I shuffled slightly closer, keeping my eyes closed despite the darkness. The rain was getting heavier, but right then, I just didn't want to leave. The sound was still a little frightening, but with her there—and with the experience the other day before she'd walked in on me—it was different. The sound was all around me, but something about it was… nice.

There was more to Elsa's plan, as usual. She knew how to get through to me. Just like I could figure out her issues with the mornings and her not having her walls up yet. I could feel her hand against my stomach, just resting there, fingers tapping very softly. She sat up slowly, and as her hand left mine I could feel her turning to grab some more pillows. I pulled the blankets up as I sat up, resting against her stomach, her arms now around my shoulders, pulling me closer, letting me feel her breasts pressing into my back.

"Are you still okay, Anniken?" I could feel her breath against my ear.

I nodded, closing my eyes again. A hand against my stomach—soft, feminine—pushing gently. Another arm around me, touching my breast, a finger just very gently tracing a line down from my throat. I couldn't help the shiver, falling forwards, away from Elsa—but she caught me, her arms around me, bringing me back to her. My mind hadn't gone as far as the last time we'd tried this kind of foreplay, but I still had to take a few deep breaths. Sights wouldn't really work in the dark, so I started with sounds, whispering softly to myself.

"Rain, my heart, the blankets, Elsa's breath."

"Anniken?" I couldn't remember if I'd told her about my exercise—the grounding exercise doctor Spiros had given me.

"Soft blankets, cold air, Elsa's hands."

"Fabric softener, dust?"

A taste was going to be hard. Until I realised I was right back in the moment, with Elsa gently drawing on my back. I turned enough to be able to kiss her—and taste her lip balm.

"Elsa's kiss."

"Anna?" Just using my name like that, I knew she was worried about me.

"I'm okay now," I turned around so we were face to face. "You can draw on my stomach if you like, and my breasts. And… maybe just touch my neck. I—" I was trying to find the right words. Elsa's fingers tracing patterns around my stomach was kind of distracting, in a good way. "—I just felt so vulnerable. Like… like I was in danger—but I'm not, because it's you, and you'd never—and anyway, it's silly, but it's about the same issues. And I know you want this—us—and I want it too, but I don't want to knock you off something again, and—"

Her lips were like fire against mine. "You talk too much." Even without light, I could tell she was smiling.

"But you love it," I met her with another kiss, slowly forcing her backwards.

—∞—

"Mom?"

"Yeah?"

"Why are you telling me all this?" Joan's giving me a skeptical look. "You could have just told me the grounding thing…"

"Context is important—and anyway, it doesn't go much further."

"If it does, I'm finding the fast-forward button."

—∞—

"I do," Elsa placed her hands against my shoulders, forcing me to stop. "But this is not like you, to be so bold."

"It's not?" She was right, I was just stalling.

"No, it is not," she pulled me down into a hug. "I am thinking part of you wants progress, to tell doctor Spiros about tomorrow."

Ouch. Hit the nail on the head, why don't you?

"Anna?" I rested my head against her chin, leaning into her, somehow trying to hide. "I am not judging, just saying what I am seeing right now."

I pulled back a little, pulling the blanket over us again. "And—and you don't want me doing something stupid."

"Not stupid," her fingers toyed with my hair. "But I am not sure it is for the reasons you want to do this."

"You mean, maybe I'm not doing this for the right reason?"

"Yes," I heard a rustle against the blanket as she nodded. "It was my idea to be here, naked, yes. Also to explore each other, and make the rain have good memories. And if you still want to, we can; or if not, we both have toys."

"Or—" my forehead pressed against hers. "—we just stay here. I like how we talk—these times, I mean; honest, or trying to be."

"We are honest," she kissed me again, softly. "And vulnerable. It scares me sometimes to know so much about each other."

"I know, it's—" I couldn't find the right word to describe the feeling. "—I can't find a word for it. Like scary, or frightening, or something like knowing you hold power, but it's delicate, and you don't want to hurt anyone with it. Like I want to nurture this thing, and see it grow, see everything it could become."

I could hear Elsa laughing softly—but I knew that laugh. She'd just figured something out. "One day, I think, you will be a great mother."

"And you wo—" any reply died on my lips as reality came crashing down on me. Of course she couldn't. I couldn't keep the sadness from my voice. "I wish you could see it. I wish it could be true."

"It could be." The brightness and determination in her voice was almost shocking, so at odds with how we'd been talking.

"Elsa?"

"Sorry," I could hear the excitement—and sadness—in her voice. "You told me once you felt lucky you couldn't have children with Hans, and that it wasn't his fault. It's still early in my treatment, I could donate eggs—have them frozen. We could still have children… just…"

I pulled her into the tightest, warmest hug I could manage. She didn't have to say what we already knew. She would never see these children growing up. They would never be able to meet her. And I wasn't sure if I could handle that. Raise kids on my own. It would be the hardest thing to do, and back then, I had no idea if it would be the right thing.

I also had no idea that she would follow through, just a random conversation late at night. I didn't forget it, but I also didn't give the matter that much thought. Not until later. Much later.

—∞—

"So you two talked about kids way back then, that early in your relationship?" Joan seems surprised by it.

"It was about eight months in, and neither of us really knew how long she had left. She knew better than me in thinking about things like her legacy, and a living will, and other things like that."

"I don't think I need to worry about any of that stuff yet."

"No, not for a long time," I smile for her, becoming a little too innocent. "And if you want to ask about the other thing, you can. You know we'll be honest with you."

She screws up her face and pokes her tongue out. "Too honest." She relents a moment later. "But… maybe? Like, emotions and stuff—and between you and dad?"

"Sure, but you know you have to ask a question first."

"I'm still figuring it out, or even if I want to." In some ways, she's very smart for a fifteen year old. Just like you were at that age, I guess.

"That's how I felt with doctor Spiros the next day. No idea where to start, or what to say."