A/N: Contains minor Anti-Semitic statements. Views not my own.
Yekaterinburg, Russia, 10th July 1918
Despite the warmth, the girl pulls a shawl over her mouth as she stands in the backyard, perhaps to keep the swamp stench out of her face as a breeze picks up. A slurring voice echoes behind her in the damp air.
"What the hell you doing, princess?" the voice, laced with alcohol, repeats itself, each repetition struggling harder beneath a haze of vodka.
Anna turns from the garble and stares at the fence separating her from the immense swathe of darkness ahead. A lantern, perched on the rotting wood - illuminates a scrawl of Cyrillic graffitied into the fence.
THE DOGS WILL RAVISH YOUR ROYAL CUNT AFTER WE'RE DONE WITH YOU.
She shudders and steps back, her heart sinking like a lead weight. The voice starts again, merely a stone's throw from her. She flinches at its proximity.
"Why you out so late, your highness, you looking for some fun?"
Anna makes out a shadow in the fog stumbling towards her, before it trips over a chair and lands face first in the mud. A chorus of snoring ensues. Anna's skin crawls with fear at the darkness before her, threatening to swallow her whole in its jaws. Even greater, is the impending doom awaiting her.
As surely as the sun would rise tomorrow, death will destroy her. Death and desecration. Preferably in that order. Would it be any more honorable if she shares in the same fate as her family? It will be just be one more warm body for the Bolsheviks to defile. Casting a glance over her shoulder, Anna starts off with a trot, before picking up her pace. The loose petticoat makes it easy for her to mount the wood and hurl herself over the palisade.
Shrieking, she slips on the dew-soaked soil and tumbles, over and over until she collides with a tree. At once, she leaps to her feet, spitting bits of grass caught in her mouth. The tree branches scratch her face when she starts off into the darkness, but nothing could stop her desperate flight away from the shouting echoing behind her.
"I'll come back for you," Anna whispers, choking back a sob, although she doesn't really know if those words were meant for her family, or to comfort the throbbing in her chest.
Sunlight drapes the girl lying face-down on the porch. Save for the gentle heave of her chest, one would've mistaken her for another poor sod who starved to death before reaching the nearest soup kitchen. A Babushka emerges from the front door and curses at the sight.
"Another fucking one," she swears, shielding her eyes from the sun's glare, "get lost! Get out of here!"
The girl barely stirs at the abuse, so she picks up the nearest broom and prods at her.
"Girl! If you're dead I don't have space to bury you, if you're alive I don't have food to feed you, so piss off, whatever you are!"
Nothing replies the woman's tirade, so she raises her foot to kick her off the porch, until a glint catches her eye. After years of toiling surrounded by soil and wood, the sight of something as alien as jewelry stops her in her tracks. The rising sun's rays catches in the diamond earrings again, scattering its rays against the porch's decaying wood. To her, it looks like pearls strewn in the mud.
"Impossible," she mutters, before laying down her broom and dragging the girl inside.
Apart from the sound of slurping, the house is silent. The Babushka stares at Anna as she eats, keeping an eye on the diamond earrings and pendant around her neck.
"Thank you," Anna mutters, her voice trembling.
"Pleasure, darling," she replies, "been long since you ate?"
"Days," Anna says, pointing at her bowl, "this is delicious though, what is it?"
The Babushka raises an eyebrow at her, and asks, "you don't know what you're eating?"
Anna looks down at the brown, granulated slop in front of her, and shakes her head.
"It's Kasha, you've never eaten Kasha before?"
"No, it would be nice with some butter, though."
The woman rolls her eyes, and continues sipping her tea. A plodding sound echoes from the porch, which sends Gerda to her feet, but she relaxes at the sight of a blonde girl hauling a bucket of water up the steps. She sets down her burden and gasps at the sight of a stranger at the kitchen table, only to get pushed back into the porch.
"Wait, Elsa," Gerda mutters, shutting the door behind her, "don't come in yet."
"Who..who is that?" Elsa asks, peering into the house.
"She showed up half-dead on our doorstep while you were at the well," Gerda says, dropping her voice to a whisper, "one of the Romanovs."
"Wait, what?" Elsa gasps, narrowing her eyes, "how do you know?"
"She must've escaped from the Bolsheviks at Yekaterinburg, with her jewelry and all," Gerda says, pointing at her earlobes, "one diamond could feed us for a year."
"But how do you know it's really one of them?"
"They used to have a portrait of the Tsar's family at the church," Gerda says, "this one looks like Princess Anna."
"You mean you don't know?"
"Sometimes it's better not to know," Gerda smirks, "if the Reds find out we're harboring a royal, we'll get shot."
"And if the Whites find out?"
"We'll get shot anyway, they shoot everyone."
"Well, we could just...ask her, there isn't much harm in that," Elsa says.
Gerda pauses and thinks, before muttering, "Fine," and throwing open the door.
The two girls freeze at the sight of each other; one, dressed in rags with a handkerchief tied around her blonde braids, and the other, in her mud-stained silk petticoat.
"Uhm, hello," Elsa says, curtsying to the other girl, "I am Elsa, and this is my grandmother, Gerda. We work on this farm."
Anna stares back at them, before biting on her lip. She looks deep into Elsa's eyes, and tries to think of something to say, but finds herself unable to utter a word.
"What brings you here?" Elsa prods.
The last few days flash before Anna's eyes: being tormented by the sun by day and the barking of pursuing hounds at night.
"I...I got lost," Anna stammers.
"Lost? Where'd you get lost from?"
Anna's eyes dart left and right, before replying, "From home."
Elsa sighs, and pulls a chair next to Anna.
"Look, we don't want any trouble," Elsa whispers, putting a hand on Anna's lap, "Just tell us, are you Princess Anastasia Romanov?"
The touch of Elsa's hand to her knee causes her to relax in the chair, but still, she clenches her teeth at her own name being uttered, and answers, "Uh, no?"
Elsa tightens her grasp on the girl's knee.
"Please, you know things aren't going well around Russia now, and everyone thinks they can do better than the other, even if it means spilling the blood of innocent people. We are only alive because we are common folk with nothing to offer but kindness just like what Gerda has given to you. There's nothing we want in return, except your honesty with us. If you are unable to extend even this simple courtesy, you will find us hard-pressed to extend the same to you."
Anna stares back at Elsa. Her tutors had told her that peasants were an illiterate bunch, beholden to alcohol and enamored with religion. The string of eloquence coming from a simply-dressed girl like Elsa took her by surprise.
"So, are you princess Anastasia?" Gerda asks.
Anna scratches her nails against the chair. Her throat clenches, before she nods.
"Holy Christ," Gerda mutters, making the sign of the cross, "I didn't think it was actually real."
"Are...are you going to send me away?" Anna asks, daring to look into Elsa's eyes.
"They're probably looking for you now, aren't they?" Elsa asks, "the Bolsheviks."
"Yes."
"And they'll kill you?"
"They will bring me back to Yekaterinburg, and they will kill me with the rest of my family. This I know for sure, at least before the Whites show up."
Gerda steps between Elsa and Anna, "But what do you intend to do? It's not like you can keep running for the rest of your life, can you?"
Anna's heart clenches as she ponders the alternatives; endlessly running from her captors or being raped and mown down by gunfire in some prison. The feeling of being trapped between the two, and of her sisters who have no such choice, sends a pang of grief into her chest.
"Please, please don't throw me out," Anna whispers, her chest heaving at each word. She grips the chair in a vain attempt to hold back her tears. Nausea overwhelms her senses, but she finds herself falling into Elsa's arms.
Elsa soothes the quivering body in her arms. Her dress begins to go damp from the warmth of Anna's tears spreading into the fabric. In the back of her mind, she ponders the stories of how corrupt and incompetent the royals were, far away in their lofty palaces with hardly a care for the people they were supposed to look after. Now, they have fallen so far from their majesty, into a pig farm. Her arms tighten around Anna as she imagines their cronyism and mysticism having something to do with everything she's lost so far: her family, their land, their hope of a better future. A part of Elsa longs to discard the sobbing mess in her arms, in retribution for every bit of poverty and bloodshed they have wrought upon the country and herself, but the thump of Anna's heart against her chest compels her otherwise.
She was human too.
"No," Elsa whispers, smoothing Anna's tousled red hair, "I won't." She looks to Gerda.
"Take her away and give her something to wear," Gerda orders, "she sticks out worse than a sore thumb wearing these clothes around here."
Elsa brings Anna into a bathroom; no more than a room with a wooden tub. She draws a bath for her and orders the still-sobbing girl to take off her clothes. Anna complies, and hands over her petticoat, a silk blouse, and a whalebone corset. The immense weight of the corset sends Elsa staggering. She runs her fingers over the silk, and makes out jewelry stitched into the fabric, but keeps silent. Instead, her eyes widen as Anna slips off her chemise and allows it to pool around her ankles. She had always imagined the royal family to be fat beasts who gorged themselves on caviar blinis and never knew a day's work. But this, this, is different. The breath catches in Elsa's chest as her eyes rove along the gentle curve of Anna's freckled bosom, down her svelte waist and hips. Her skin is impossibly smooth and fair, and Elsa bites down on her lip as she thinks about how it'd feel beneath her fingertips.
"Thank you," Anna whispers, wiping the tears from her eyes, "for helping me."
Anna's words snatch her attention. Elsa tucks a fringe behind her ear and tears her gaze away from Anna, before muttering.
"Please go easy on the soap, we don't have much."
Elsa draws the curtain to the bathroom and flings her back against wall, clutching a pile of dirty clothes. The image of Anna's naked body still burns behind her eyeballs, and she doesn't realize, until Gerda pinches her beet-red cheeks, just how hard she's breathing.
"What's the matter?" Gerda whispers, "Never seen a naked princess before?"
Creak.
Elsa opens her eyes and stares at the ceiling. Her muscles burn with fatigue from a day's work, and the darkness begs her eyelids to return them to slumber. She shuts her eyes, but imagines hearing a muffled sob in the silence. She lies still and tries to ignore it, but something tugs at her heart, even though she can't really explain what. Elsa turns and whispers into the darkness.
"Are you alright there?"
There's no answer, save for another muffled sob.
"Why don't you come here?" Elsa whispers, not really knowing why she said it. She holds her breath, listening to the creak creak of floorboards until a warm body slips in next to hers.
"Still not used to sleeping on hay?" Elsa asks, "It's almost a month now."
The voice replying her is muffled and stuttery, "I wouldn't be able to sleep on a bed of feathers, even if I tried."
Elsa's eyes adjust to the darkness; illuminated by a ray of moonlight peeking through the wall, she makes out Anna's glistening eyes.
"It's your family, isn't it?" Elsa asks
"Yes."
Clenching her fists, Elsa tries not to think about how the joke of a royal family deserves to be alive, but she purses her lips.
"They're probably dead," Anna continues, her chest trembling with each word, "but sometimes it's not knowing what happened to them that feels awful."
Elsa grits her teeth.
"I knew what happened to mine," Elsa whispers, clenching her fists and trying not to remember, "to my parents, and my siblings. In fact, I saw it all happen before my eyes. I wish I didn't know what happened to them, but I do, and trust me, it doesn't make it feel any less awful."
Despite Elsa's earlier attempts not to recall the massacre, she does. Shutting her eyes just burns the memory ever so brightly into her consciousness. A tear slides down Elsa's cheek, and her lips begin to tremble.
"I'm sorry," Anna whispers, slipping her arms around Elsa's waist, "I shouldn't have ran away, it's all so stupid."
Elsa screws her eyes shut and waits for the familiar feeling to overwhelm her: the gnawing panic in her chest, the running and hiding in the nearest corner out of sight where she could cry and cry until her tears would wash away the sight of blood and crumpled bodies from her brain. She holds her breath and anticipates it, but there's nothing. Nothing save for the gentle rise and fall of Anna's chest and the gentle breathing on her neck.
Anna's arm draped across her chest begins to weigh down on her, but Elsa hesitates to push it away, afraid that everything would come flooding back once it's gone. Instead, she turns and whispers,
"You can sleep with me if it makes you feel better."
But the girl has already started snoring.
Anna shrieks as the wagon goes over a bump, eliciting a chuckle from Elsa. After toiling for months and living on next to nothing, Anna could've never imagined that a mere pair of diamond earrings could buy something as life-changing as a wagon. It ploughed the fields and carried their produce to town and delivered supplies for their neighbors. The memory of her mother using those precious stones as paperweights strewn across the documents in her study, makes Anna shudder.
"We're almost here," Elsa says, pointing at the festival tent being set up in the square, "Are you excited?"
"Nearly, more nervous," Anna answers, "I haven't seen the world for so long it's almost scary to wonder how fast things change."
Elsa looks at Anna in her lavender dress, and flowers tucked in her hair. Her beauty is timeless, and it pains Elsa to imagine that this is the same Princess Anastasia - the daughter of corrupt royals who single-handedly destroyed the country and her life.
"You look pretty today," Elsa mutters, surprised she'd say anything like that.
"You look pretty too," Anna answers, putting her head on Elsa's shoulder, "all day, everyday, especially when your arms are elbows deep in filth."
Elsa hesitates, before inhaling the scent of Anna's hair. Despite toiling as much as everyone else and bathing as little as them, she still smelled intoxicating - like a field of flowers in bloom.
"Oh my god, I hear something," Anna jerks upright and catches sight of a crowd of townspeople making merry in the square, "A festival!"
"That's what we're here for," Elsa smiles, tidying the ribbons in Anna's hair, "Go ahead, I'll get some crepes for you."
Gerda wobbles in her seat as Anna leaps off the cart. The girl pauses by her tent, before she's swept away by it all, the noise, the music, the dancing and the smell of common folk and vodka. Having lived in a sombre palace and a prison for most of her life, the merry crowd in all its rancor feels like a different planet to her.
"She's a good girl," Gerda says, stopping the horses by a watering trough, "even if she is just another mouth to feed."
Elsa steps off the cart, her eyes fixed on Anna dancing with some children.
"Look, Elsa," Gerda says, nudging the girl to face her, "I...I know you like Anna."
Elsa looks deep into Gerda's eyes, pondering what she means.
"I have no children left, but you," Gerda says, "and her."
"That's funny," Elsa smirks, "I remember you saying you were keeping her until her jewelry dried up."
"You think I'm old and stubborn," Gerda replies, tying the horses' bridle to the wall, "that might be true, but that doesn't mean I can't be wrong."
"Wrong about what?"
Gerda looks back at her granddaughter and chuckles, before patting her on the back, "Go have fun, I'll see if I can score a barrel of vodka."
Elsa shrugs, before sauntering to the tent and placing down coins for some food. She receives a stack of savory crepes stuffed in a roll of newspaper and tries to jostle for a spot to sit on the benches. She never remembers the Maslenitsa festival being this jovial, but these are dark times in Russia, and the people need something to live for, since no one knows when is their turn to get destroyed by war or destitution. The noise of music from her childhood puts a smile on Elsa's face, but she notices a pair of eyes watching her through the crowd.
It starts moving towards her, and she stands when the man reaches her.
"Hello, Hans," Elsa says, as they bow to one another in tradition, "I trust you've been well."
"Comrade Hans," he reminds her, pointing at the badge on his collar denoting him as a party commissar, "we are now living in the glorious age of socialist revolution."
"My family and their land have already been taken away," Elsa mutters, "I don't suppose the party is coming after my crepes as well?"
"Counter-revolutionary ideals are things of the past," Hans points out, sticking his finger in the air, "your old bourgeoisie ways have been relieved by the party, and it is a pity your tongue appears to be infected with the insolent speech of the capitalists and those who yearn for the old days."
"What do you want from me?" Elsa asks, looking at Hans's boots. She could make out her face in them.
"I have been appointed as party chief of the district," he smirks, pausing to wait for Elsa to fawn over the fact. He scowls when she doesn't.
"Everything which happens here is now under my personal responsibility, it is a debt I owe to the motherland," Hans says, "so naturally that includes you."
"Great," Elsa mutters, "And?"
"Your grandmother appears to have bought a new cart lately," Hans says, pointing at the horses by the wall, "from our records, your farm's agricultural export was not significantly higher than the quota."
His words send a chill into Elsa's spine.
"No," Elsa says, clutching the hem of her dress and trying to speak as naturally as she could, "we've been saving some money for awhile. It was easier to get to town on the old plot."
"I don't mean to be nosey," Hans continues, "but it is my duty to rid the country of its old bourgeoisie ways, including the hoarding of grain or money. Soon, laws will be passed that will eliminate the Kulaks altogether, and a true classless society will emerge amongst the peasantry."
Elsa's eyes dart left and right, "that will be the last significant thing we're buying for a while, things aren't going so well."
"For your family?"
"Y-yes." Elsa stutters.
"For you and Baba Gerda?"
Elsa swallows hard. She casts an eye on the sight of Anna dancing in the tent, and begins to sweat, even in the frosty spring air.
"Yes."
Elsa gasps as Hans throws an arm around her shoulders and swivels her to face the merrymaking crowd. He points at Anna, and her heart begins to pound.
"I saw you come here on your fancy new wagon with Gerda and another girl," he says, his finger drawing a circle in the air, "that one."
"Yes," she says, struggling beneath his tightening grip.
"Never seen her around here before," Hans snarls, "care to enlighten me who she is?"
Stuck in a headlock, Elsa's tear-soaked gaze drifts to Han's other hand, clasped around a revolver. If Anna's identity is made known, he could walk over there right now and blow Anna's brains out all over the ground for glory, and given how many people have been executed of late, no one would pause their dancing. The thought sends a tangible bolt of terror flashing before Elsa's eyes, and she never realizes until now just how devastating losing Anna would be.
"She...She's my sister," Elsa lies. She looks down at her muddied boots, and her eyes widen at the sight of ice forming on them.
"That's strange," Hans snarls right into Elsa's ear, "I never knew you had a sister."
"She's my only sister left," Elsa snarls back, as ice spreads through her palms, "everyone else is dead."
"Maybe we should take a look at the-" Hans says, before a blistering frost bites into his arm. He recoils from Elsa, and wipes at his cheek, expecting to see blood, but finds only ice.
"D-Did you just bite me?" Hans asks, rubbing his jaw.
Elsa crosses her arms, and shakes her head. The party chief of the district spits in the snow, turns on his heels and leaves, knocking over a drunk peasant on his way from the tent. Looking down at her palms, Elsa rubs at the ice on her fingers and tries to make sense of why it feels like warm sand to her, but a gentle voice interrupts her thoughts.
"Is everything alright?" Anna asks, holding a pitcher of Kvass, "you look...shook."
The sight of Anna's reddened cheeks warms Elsa's heart, and she invites the girl to sit with her.
"It's nothing, just ran into a friend," Elsa says, "he's kind of a dick now."
"Well, that's what men are, aren't they?" Anna replies, passing Elsa her drink, "Cheer up and have a drink. I hope you don't mind me eating your crepes."
"No, please don't stand on ceremony," Elsa says, feeding her a crepe. The sight of Anna chewing with glee sends a ripple of hurt through her being as she ponders just how painful it would be to lose her.
"You're pretty much family to us already," Elsa continues, ruffling a hand through Anna's hair. The girl smiles back at Elsa and she grips the bench, reminiscing about the fear of nearly losing her. An overwhelming feeling falls upon Elsa; the same feeling she felt when Gerda held her back as the soldiers machine gunned her parents. That desperate feeling of wanting to protect someone she cares for.
"Oh, the crepes are much better here!" Anna says, as she shovels the last one down her throat.
"Yes they are," Elsa says, taking Anna's hands in her own and rubbing them for warmth. All of a sudden, Anna lets out a gasp and grips back, and Elsa's eyes widen as she watches the joy in her face fade into disbelief, and sorrow, all within a matter of seconds.
"Anna?" Elsa asks, putting an arm around her shoulder, as the girl chokes out a sob, "Anna, what's wrong?"
Elsa perches the pitcher of Kvass on the greasy newspaper fluttering around on the bench. Despite Anna's previous efforts to teach her how to read, Elsa still struggles to make out the Cyrillic letters. Anna turns and buries her face into Elsa's shoulder.
"Р-о-м-а́-н-о-в-ы, (Romanov)" Elsa spells out the letters in her head, before the blood in her face drains at the realization what the words on the newspaper meant.
"Oh my god, Anna I'm so sorry."
As Elsa clutches the sobbing girl to herself, she imagines seeing her parents die all over again.
With a grunt, Elsa tugs at the weed until the earth yields its roots. A breeze picks up, and she stands up straight to enjoy the crisp air billowing through her hair. Surrounded waist-high by wheat, her chest aches when she spots another figure a stone's throw from her, hunched over as she frantically weeded the fields. Despite being less experienced, Anna's basket was already full of torn roots from a morning of weeding. Elsa sighs as she remembers how Anna used to ask that they do everything together, even mundane tasks like this. The distance between them is palpable.
Elsa's eyes widen as she watches the girl pulling out a particularly deep-rooted weed. The root system emerges from the earth in one long tug, exposing more and more of its tendrils as it leads Anna towards a canal.
"Wait, Anna, no!" Elsa cries, as Anna stumbles her way towards the ditch, ripping up the roots as she goes. She darts through the wheat, and snatches the collar of Anna's dress right as she slips on the mud.
"What's wrong with you?" Elsa yells, only for Anna to whirl around to face her, with tears in her eyes. The girl's lips begin to tremble.
"I have nothing left," Anna whispers, fighting to speak amidst the sobbing, "nothing! I wish I was there to die with them. It was a cowardly, stupid thing to run away."
Elsa clenches her fists as she recollects hiding in a drain for two days as the rain pelted her and the putrefying corpses of her family laid less than ten yards away. Elsa remembers pleading with the heavens at every rumble of thunder to strike her with lightning so that she could share in their fate. That singular point of despair was only alleviated when Gerda reached into the filth and dragged her out.
"You have us," Elsa says, looking at the soil beneath her feet, "I hope that counts for something."
"I don't deserve you," Anna says. The sunlight catches in a tear sliding down her cheek.
"You don't choose the families you were born into, I had as a much of a chance being a princess as you did." Elsa says, taking a step closer to Anna, "I don't think you chose which porch to end up half-dead on either."
Anna wipes the tears from her eyes.
"What am I to you, then?" Anna asks, "A sister?"
A flurry of emotions well up in Elsa's chest as she ponders the girl's question. Over the past year, she never imagined Anna seeing her as anything other than a sister. The question takes her by surprise. Elsa stares into Anna's eyes and imagines seeing the faintest spark of desire glowing within.
"Maybe," Elsa answers, the word catching in her breath, "Maybe something else, I don't know."
"What, then?" Anna asks, her chest heaving with anticipation, "You need to tell me."
It's already October, but heat still courses through Elsa's face as Anna takes a step closer. The pounding in her chest intensifies with each second between them.
"I don't know," Elsa mutters.
"You don't know?" Anna asks, her voice breaking again, "You've known me for a year and you don't know? Maybe I'm nothing to you, is that it?"
Elsa locks eyes with Anna. In a flash, the accusation sends a tidal wave of pent up desire surging within Elsa. She closes the gap and crushes her lips into Anna's, pouring every ounce of her longing into the kiss. Paralyzed by the sudden surge of heat spreading across her face, Anna finds it difficult to control a single muscle in her body, save for dropping her basket of weeds and pulling Elsa deeper into the kiss, as though every fiber of her body longs to be consumed by her.
"No you're not," Elsa says, lips still smoldering like coals, "you're everything to me."
This time, Anna tiptoes and pulls the other girl into a kiss. Filled with a newfound hunger, Anna pulls too hard and drags Elsa down into the wheat. The scarf around Anna's chin comes loose, exposing the pale freckled skin on her neck. Elsa catches sight of this and gets drawn into kissing it.
"Oh my god," Anna moans, burying her fingers into Elsa's hair, "I've wanted you for so long."
Elsa's hands begin to tremble as she realizes Anna is offering herself to her. The past year saw countless nights of keeping her hands to herself, fearful of straying anywhere further than innocent pecks on Anna's cheek, afraid of arousing a forbidden desire in herself. This is over, and the look in Anna's eyes begs Elsa to take her.
"You've always had me," Elsa whispers against Anna's skin, each syllable sending pulses of electricity down her spine.
Elsa pauses, and allows Anna to sit upright. The girl looks over her shoulder, and realizes there's nothing but wheat around them for miles. When she looks back at Elsa, there's a mischievous glint in her eyes.
"It's just us," Elsa says, untying the scarf around her neck, "no one else."
She's seen it before many times, but this time, when the sunlight falls upon Elsa's naked body, Anna's entire being trembles with a potent energy, like she's been allowed to gaze upon the form of a goddess. To her, Elsa has a natural beauty gifted by the heavens, devoid of any cosmetics or finery, just laid out bare for only one person to see.
"You are absolutely beautiful," Anna gasps, watching the shifting clouds paint silhouettes onto Elsa's radiant skin. Lost in the searing heat of Elsa's touch, Anna doesn't even realize until the wind picks up again - just how naked and vulnerable both of them are in the field. The autumn breeze casts waves into the grain, oblivious to the two tangled bodies shifting about in an intricate dance of ecstasy.
Anna gasps, one final time, clutching at stalks of wheat between her fingers. She looks at the figure astride her, sunlight peeking through her tousled blonde hair, and shimmering on her skin.
"I've never felt this way before," Anna whispers, "y-you're magical."
Elsa doesn't even need to hear it. She could feel it, in the burning fire between her legs and in the glowing pleasure which touched every nerve ending in her body. She still feels it, even as her trembling fingers fumble with doing up the buttons on Anna's dress, and when they intertwine their fingers on the walk back, still slick with sweat and arousal. Their fingers touch again when they do the dishes together after supper, and Anna slips her hand into Elsa's beneath the sink full of dishwater.
Their foreheads touch.
Eyelids flutter shut.
Their lips curl into a smile.
Gerda stares at them, with her hands on her hips.
"Seriously, what's going on with both of you today?"
"Would you like some help with that, darling?" Anna asks.
Elsa turns and sees the other woman scampering up the stairs. She heaves the laundry basket up into her arms, and sighs.
"For the last time, I'm not that old, I've spent way longer in the fields than you,"
"That's why," Anna replies, with a wink, "the last twenty years must've worn out your joints."
"Still fit as a fiddle," Elsa claims, flexing an arm to prove her point, "and so are you."
"I wouldn't be," Anna says, following the blonde into their bedroom, "if you never found me."
"Technically, I didn't," Elsa says, drawing the curtains and pointing at a single, solitary gravestone in their yard.
They stare at Gerda's resting place, their silence reflecting the memory of Gerda's ceaseless love towards them over the past decades. However, the smoke rising in the west draws their attention away. Recently, it became too much to ignore: the constant thunder of war, the streams of refugees fleeing past their farm, rumors of the terrible tide of fascism coming from a far-away empire flung upon them by a madman. For months they tried their best to pretend like nothing was going to harm their idyllic lives.
Until now.
"It looks like they're on their way here," Anna points out the dark grey specks on the horizon moving towards them.
The figures appear as a advancing column, riding on their armored vehicles and motorcycles.
"They're not stopping," Elsa comments. Fear begins to surge through her veins.
"But what would they want with us?" Anna ponders aloud, "We're just farmers."
"We should hide," Elsa says, gripping the hem of her dress, "remember that storm shelter we built behind-"
"I don't think they're regular soldiers," Anna mutters, pointing at the state car driving amongst the troops, "they would've shelled us from afar."
"Maybe they're looking for Jews," Elsa says, her lips trembling, "I heard they round them all up and shoot them. We should get out of here."
"What're you afraid of? We're not Jews."
"Maybe they'll kill us all the same," Elsa says. She could make out the men on the motorbikes now, with their black helmets and gas masks, sporting sub-machine guns.
"Maybe they're just checking on us," Anna says, turning on her heels, "I'm going downstairs to see what this is all about."
Before Elsa can say another word, the girl disappears down the stairs.
"No, don't!" Elsa exclaims. Fear grips her, but even greater is the fear of leaving Anna alone to face the men. She rushes down and throws open the door in time for the motorcade of steel to pull up by their doorstep.
An officer emerges from the car, clad in a leather trench coat with medals overflowing from his uniform. All around the cottage stands men and machinery, all bristling with weapons. The swastikas emblazoned on their vehicles, once the object of scorn and derision in the newspapers, now takes on a menacing lifelike form to them. To Anna and Elsa, the entire scene looks like it comes from another planet.
The German officer tips his peaked cap at the women.
"I do apologize for the unscheduled manner of our visit," he announces in English, stuffing a leather briefcase beneath his arm, "we have been rather busy of late and sometimes the timing doesn't suit war."
Not knowing a word he just said, Elsa and Anna stare at him, and then at the men disembarking their vehicles. He turns and asks one of the soldiers a question.
"Alas," the officer says, "how foolish of me, I have also come here unprepared. My interpreter has been injured and left behind at the front. I don't suppose either of you lovely ladies would happen to speak English, would you, or French, perhaps?"
The words make no sense to either of them, but Anna steps forward.
"Herr, ich kann Deutsche sprechen," Anna quips. (Sir, I can speak German)
Elsa's lips part in shock. The officer's expression hardens at her.
"Aber du bist Russich?" (but you are Russian?)
"Ja. Ich habe in meiner Jugend Deutsch gelernt." (Yes. I learnt German in my youth)
He smirks at Anna, and continues in German
"Two women of child-bearing age on a farm and no men, what's going on?"
Anna frowns, "The men have gone to get killed by your tanks and planes, we are what's left."
Elsa's lips part further at the fluent German coming from Anna. The officer raises an eyebrow, and reaches into his briefcase.
"Well, my lovely Fraulein, we are not here looking for a man, but we are looking for a special woman, and all the intelligence we have received points us here," he shows Anna a page from a folder, and she gasps at the sight of her own picture clipped to its corner. Elsa catches her when she stumbles backwards.
"It has been awhile, Princess Anna," he continues in German, replacing the folder, "you may think that Russia has forgotten you, but the world hasn't."
Elsa looks at the officer, speaking a foreign language to Anna. She hasn't the slightest clue what's going on, and frowns at them.
"There is a new Russia being built, one that is pure and free from the Bolshevism it has surrendered itself to. A glorious Russia which will no longer be slave to the conspiracies of the international Jewry. Princess Anna, there is a place for you at the forefront of this liberated Russia. The time has come now for you to right the wrongs that the communists have heaped upon your family and upon this country."
Anna stares at officer, his words swirling around in her head. The men flinch when an artillery shell explodes in the distance.
Anna grits her teeth, "Was wollen Sie von mir? Diese Tage sind lange vorbei." (What do you want from me? Those days are long over)
"You are the last surviving member of the house of Romanov and heir to the Russian Throne. You must come with us at once to St Petersburg. Or, as the Bolsheviks used to call it - Stalingrad."
At once, Anna's memory jogs back to her childhood in the winter palace. The carefree days of playing hide and seek in the halls and the smell of Borscht at dinnertime.
"Why?" Anna asks.
"In our crusade against Bolshevism, we have deemed the Communist revolution to be an illegitimate act of treason against the rightful leaders of Russia. Supplanted by the conspiracy of international Jewry, your family was gunned down in cold blood, but now is the time to avenge their deaths and take your place as Queen of the new Russia."
The officer extends a gloved hand, clad in black leather. Anna pauses and reminisces about the palace halls; the plush carpet beneath her bare feet and endless fineries to gaze upon.
"Can my sister come?" Anna asks, staring at the ground.
The officer leans close to Anna, his medals clinking about.
"Wir wissen, dass sie ist nicht deine Schwester, und nein, sie kann nicht kommen." (We know she's not your sister, and no, she can't come)
Anna turns to look at Elsa, with her hands clasped in front of her. Despite everything, the wars and poverty and death, Elsa remained the one thing constant in her life: the pillar of love and strength which kept her alive. It takes less than a second for Anna to reply him.
"Der Platz einer Prinzessin ist mit ihren Leuten, mit der Erde, und an ihren Leiden und Freuden teilzuhaben. Das kann ich nicht von einem Palast aus tun. Ich werde nicht gehen, nur um deinem Führer eine Marionette zu sein."
(A princess's place is with her people, with the land, and to partake in their sufferings and joys. I cannot do that from a palace. I will not go, only to be a puppet to your Fuhrer.)
The officer narrows his eyes at Anna. He waits for what feels like an eternity to her, perhaps to give her a chance to reconsider.
She doesn't.
"Fine," he snarls, turning on his heels, "suit yourself."
Anna sighs in relief, and takes Elsa by the hand. She nearly misses hearing him bark out an order to his men.
"Töte sie beide, verbrenne den Hof." (Kill them both, burn the farm)
"What!" Anna screeches, whirling around at the sound of a dozen guns being drawn and cocked.
Elsa's heart goes ice-cold at the sight of the first soldier lining his sights up on Anna's head.
"No!" Elsa screams, lunging at the soldier.
Crack.
The noise deafens her for a second. She screws her eyes shut as blood sprays her face.
It's foggy when she sees again, and when her eyes focus on the soldier with a shard of ice impaled into his eye socket, Elsa lets out a blood-curdling scream.
Anna steps between them and shoves the soldier hard.
"No, Anna, No!" Elsa screams, yanking her away. Frost crackles from her fingers and bites into Anna's flesh, and she lets go of her immediately, shrieking at the uncontrollable ice spewing from her hands. Without thinking, she flings her hands at the soldiers, and an avalanche of hail bursts into flesh and metal. The jarring noise of tearing metal and automatic weapons rips through the air. Fire, ice and metal collide with fury that hurls bodies and vehicles over one another. By the time the noise dies out, there's snow in a two mile radius, and an icy crater remains where the officer stood.
"Monster," Elsa snarls. Her words are labored, and she ignores the blood seeping through her fingers as she holds them to to her chest. With impunity, she grabs a shard of ice and puts the officer out of his misery. Even in his dying moments, he attempts to take aim with his Luger, but the ice wins out, and he dies amongst the frozen corpses of his comrades strewn amidst the metal.
"Elsa," a feeble voice filters through the sound of billowing sleet.
Elsa's heart is crushed when she sees Anna's broken body crumpled against their doorsteps. She makes an attempt to stand, but falls over face-first. One look at the pink snow beneath her and she knows Anna is done for.
"No, no, no!" Elsa screams, staggering towards the girl. It's hard for their shaking hands to find one another, and blood spurts from Anna's mouth when she tries to speak.
"They asked me to go with them," Anna stammers, clutching Elsa's hands like it's her last time, "to be a princess again."
"You should've went," Elsa whispers, tears streaming down her face and blood flowing down her arms.
"I already have a princess," Anna stammers, as the strength in her body gives way. She tries desperately to touch Elsa's face, but fails.
"Please don't go, please don't leave me here," Elsa begs, her words unable to stop Anna's eyes from fluttering shut. Try as she might, strength deserts her, and she slumps into Anna's bosom.
"It's you."
