Las Vegas, Nevada, May 14th 2018

Elsa peered at her opponent through sweat-fogged eyes. The other woman's blood dripped from her chin, but still staggered towards Elsa with hands wavering. Gritting her teeth, she heard the announcer calling out another 90 seconds left in the third round.

I can finish this, Elsa thought, she's done for.

A quick shuffle of her feet.

A deceptive glance at her opponent's bruised ribs.

A drop of her hands, right before Elsa smashed her shin into her face, sending her crashing to the canvas.

Elsa didn't even bother following up, instead walking away to the thunderous screaming that shook the T-Mobile Arena. The referee took one look at the downed woman's cracked jaw, before waving off the fight. The noise of 15,000 people cheering shook the octagon as Elsa ran to her corner, hands outstretched, screaming with joy at her coach.

"And it's all over!" Kristoff yelled over the crowd, leaping into the cage to lift Elsa up on his shoulders as they celebrated another title defence. Her lungs still heaved, this time, not with exhaustion, but with exhilaration as the referee lifted her hand.

"...Winner, by way of Knock-Out, and still the Women's Featherweight Champion of the world, Elsa Chenault!"

Amidst the cameras flashing, the Championship title belt weighing down on her shoulders, and limbs aching with fire, Elsa heard a faint voice from the crowd.

Fight me!

She looked around herself, only seeing jubilant faces in the crowd, all cheering their heads off at her victory. The cry repeated itself.

Fight me!

A commentator approached her with a microphone, as the audience fell silent, and requested a victor's speech. Distracted by the anonymous voice calling her out, she only managed to utter a terse, "thank you everyone for coming to see me fight tonight-" before the voice called out to her again.

Why don't you fight me, you old fool?

Despite the silence, no one but Elsa heard it. She tilted her head at its source: a single red-headed woman in the crowd who was gesturing at her with the middle finger. Annoyed, Elsa stared at the cameras bearing down on her, before she feigned a kiss to the world, and the crowd went mad with euphoria again. At once, she trotted over to the woman's direction and pointed at her through the cage, fury written on her face.

"Hey, hey!" Elsa cried out at the redhead, the officials oblivious to her movements, "who the fuck do you think you are?"

"You heard me, goddamn you!" she lashed out, "Now stop fighting these pretenders and fight me!"

At once, Kristoff came and pulled Elsa away from the cage, "Forget about her, you need to get your knee checked out before anything else-"

As Elsa's entourage escorted her from the cage, and carried her title belt above her head for the procession out of the arena, Elsa made one last glance behind her shoulders at the stands, eyes fixed on that redheaded girl, still flipping her off. All the cheering and adulation faded into a dull throbbing in Elsa's head. Forgotten was her successful title defense. Forgotten was the announcement that she just won knockout of the night and another $20,000. All she saw and heard was this redhead, sticking her tongue out at her.

Fight me.

Scowling, Elsa narrowed her eyes at her, and pointed the middle finger back.


It was nearly midnight when the fight doctors allowed Elsa out of the physio ward. The raw adrenaline had worn off, leaving her in pain from a failed kneebar attempt earlier. She hobbled to the carpark with Kristoff, opting to go through backstage instead of through the concession stands, in case any prying reporters were still around.

Instead of the paparazzi, a lone figure stood by the loading bay, wearing a hoodie and jeans. She caught sight of Elsa and Kristoff, and slid off her hood, exposing her red pigtails and freckled cheeks.

"Oh my god," Elsa groaned, "who is that girl?"

"Anna Ferguson, number one contender," Kristoff remarked, drawing a gasp from Elsa, before he continued, "but she fights in Bantamweight, so not even in the same weight class as you."

At once, Elsa strode past Kristoff and gestured at Anna, "you got a real nerve calling me out in front of all those people-" she yelled, voice reverberating around the loading bay.

Anna sneered, "Getting real tired of you ducking me, old woman, how about you come down here and get yourself the ass-whooping you deserve instead of busting tomato cans up in Featherweight?"

Kristoff quickly caught up to Elsa and held out an arm to stop her from getting closer.

Rifling a hand through her hair, Elsa snarled, "I don't even know who you are, so why don't you-"

"-Why don't you find out right now?" Anna scowled, sticking out a hand and gesturing to Elsa for a fight, "we don't even have to wait for Hans to fix the fight. I could take you down right now and put you to sleep."

Heat flashed through Elsa's face, "I'll bust that smug face of yours open, you little bitch!"

"Woah woah woah," Kristoff yelled, pulling Elsa away, "the cameras will be here in no time if you keep acting up like that-"

Anna smirked at Elsa, and the champion caught a glimpse of the look in her eyes. That snide glimmer in Anna's eyes that appeared to mock her. The sight lit a fire in Elsa's chest. With a grunt, Elsa shoved her hard, only for Anna to reach out and slap her across the face.

"Break it up!" Kristoff shouted, only for more people to get drawn into the commotion. A scuffle quickly broke out, with groups of people dragging the two women apart. Elsa drew back in horror as she realised that someone had been filming the whole thing.


Seated onstage with a dozen other fighters, Elsa cut a figure of utmost primness as she waited for her turn to answer questions at a press conference. Her shades hid her disinterest as two male fighters took turns trash-talking each other, but all she could think about was that redhead seated on the opposite end of the table. It'd been a month since their encounter backstage, but the welt on her cheek still stung like it happened yesterday.

Elsa glanced sideways at Anna. The girl had hardly paid any attention to her since coming onstage, and she couldn't comprehend that feeling inside her stomach which kept churning throughout the press conference. Annoyance? Disappointment? The confusion gripped at her insides, but she steeled her focus when it was her turn to speak.

A reporter piped up, "We'd like to direct the next question towards Elsa Chenault's upcoming title defense. At this point of time the Champion appears unstoppable, will we expect more of the same performance from her, or is there potential for something different?"

The President of the Organisation, Hans Andersen, took a diplomatic tone with his answer, "I'd like to point out here that every fight, especially championship bouts, are of a competitive nature. Contenders earn their place through the ranks and the champions have to keep sharp to stay on top of an increasingly competitive field over the years. It is this jungle that creates entertaining fights for the fans."

Elsa picked up the microphone, "I've worked hard to earn my place here and hope to continue doing so in the future, champion or not."

The crowd drew a stunned gasp as Anna's voice interrupted Elsa's, "Maybe she should come down to Bantamweight and see if she can fight for real."

Try as she might, words deserted Elsa at the audacity of Anna's verbal jab. She took off her sunglasses and stared at Anna with her mouth ajar, but found herself unable to reply. Her opponents had always been respectful, but here this girl was, calling her out in front of dozens of reporters and her own peers.

"Yea, you heard me," Anna sneered, turning sideways to face the champion, "last two times Elsa fought in my division, she got her ass beat like a sack of dead rabbits halfway to Sunday."

Anna turned away and folded her arms. In the silence that followed Anna's unsolicited remarks, a reporter chimed in.

"Actually, our next question is with regards to the viral video of your backstage scuffle with Anna after your last title defense. We'd like to understand the story behind why it occurred-"

"Such behaviour does not reflect the values of our organisation," Hans interjected, casting a harsh look at both women, "whatever the reason."

"How about - I didn't ask for any of this and she started-" Elsa started.

"-how about you grow a pair of balls and stop ducking me?" Anna cut her off.

The girl's harsh Scottish accent took on a derisory tone, amplified as it echoed around the hall. Heat flashed through Elsa's face, "You got a real big mouth, too big for your own good!"

"Come over here and shut me up then," Anna snarled back, mimicking a kiss to Elsa, and eliciting a chorus of jeering from the crowd.

The brazen mockery stole the words from Elsa's lips. She stared at Anna with the microphone in her shaking hand, confusion and fury in her eyes.

"You don't have to keep looking at me all the time," Anna smirked, "I know I'm beautiful."

Elsa's cheeks burned a very visible shade of scarlet, before she slammed the microphone down and strode off the stage.


Fists clenched, Elsa struck a figure of gritty determination as she ran laps around the lake. The morning breeze billowed through her blonde ponytail, and she picked up her pace as she spotted Kristoff standing at the gym's entrance with a stopwatch. She ignored the fire burning through her legs and doubled down hard, knowing even more pushups would be in order if she failed the timing. Her coach grinned as she strode in next to him.

"Did I make it?" she asked, lungs heaving from the exertion.

Kristoff slung the stopwatch around his neck.

"Nah just kidding, I wasn't even timing you," he sneered, only to receive a stiff jab in the chest from Elsa as they made their way indoors. Exhausted from the run, the champion sprawled on a corner of the gym's floor reserved for herself, as she sought to stretch out the aches and knots that came with all the hard days spent preparing for her next title defense. All around her, fighters from various promotions were hard at work, training for their respective fights. Despite the sheer pace of physical activity buzzing around the gym, the star-studded roster struck a scene of utmost professionalism, voices never rising above a whisper, and every fifteen minutes, groups of junior fighters broke out mops to clean puddles of sweat off the mats.

And occasionally, blood and tears.

Sunlight filtered through the windows as Elsa rolled out her calves, thankful for the respite from this morning's run. A hushed silence fell upon the gym, and she felt more than one pair of eyes on her. At once, Elsa turned to the new source of attention at the entrance: sunlight gleaming off the girl's red hair as she shook hands with the gym's head coach.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Elsa swore beneath her breath.

"There has to be a mistake," Kristoff muttered, before walking across the gym as her teammates looked at her for a reaction. He shook Anna's hand, and spoke cordially with the coach she came with - a polynesian woman covered in tattoos and towering over him. Anna's smile turned to a frown when Kristoff pointed out the champion to her. Immediately, a look of confusion flashed across Anna's face. Their hushed conversation continued, out of Elsa's earshot, until at last Kristoff headed back to her.

"Her coach recommended this gym to hone her kickboxing," Kristoff whispered to Elsa, "they thought you were at the city campus, it's just a big mixup."

Elsa locked eyes with Anna as the girl made her way to the changing rooms. Gone was the snide, mocking sneer from Anna's face, replaced by a look Elsa could only put down as fear. She'd looked up Anna's fights secretly; the girl was an absolute warrior, violently taking down her opponents and submitting them beneath whatever strikes they threw at her. This was an animal who didn't know fear.

So what are you afraid of? Elsa thought, as a smirk graced her face.

You're in my jungle now, you little bitch.


The entire week had been a potent source of confusion for Elsa. Despite Anna's earlier reputation for trash-talk and confrontational behaviour, she'd been nothing short of humble and hard-working at the gym. The younger girl had shown up for every training session early, even going the extra mile to teach her unique style of grappling to the other fighters. Indeed, Anna's efficient form of grappling was a godsend to the gym, which had been severely lacking in wrestling talent.

Still, Elsa chose to maintain a respectable distance away from her. Keeping Anna in the corner of her eye but never looking directly at her. She didn't know why the girl made her feel this way, and she despised the way it ate up her mental energy. Like this gym wasn't big enough to contain both of them.

All of this changed one day, when Kristoff and Moana, Anna's coach, walked over to Elsa after her warmup.

"We'd like Anna to train with you," they asked.

The breath caught in Elsa's throat.

"The last thing I heard from her was wanting to choke me unconscious, so it's a no," Elsa growled.

"Look, it's all just show-making on her part, everyone knows that's how the company works," Moana interjected, "and for that, she apologises."

"She can say sorry to me if she wants to, but let's face it, she's not going to - because she has her head stuck up her own ass."

"Ignore all of that for a moment," Kristoff said, folding his arms, "and consider that this actually could be good for you."

Elsa stared at him, wraps dangling from her hands.

"She's easily the best Bantamweight wrestler, this gym doesn't even have a Jiu-Jitsu black belt. It's a weakness your opponents will be looking to exploit the longer your title run goes on."

Memories of all her fights filtered back. Despite the hazy maelstrom of blood, sweat, and furious grunting, one thing remained consistent. She'd always kept to the same gameplan of wearing down her opponents through superior striking. Wrestling was her weak link. How long was this going to last?

She looked up at her title belt, mounted above a punching bag. Her name emblazoned in gold.

Without waiting for an answer, Anna crossed over from the locker rooms. Her bunned red hair disheveled, sweat glistening on her neck.

"Ready?" Anna asked, hands on her hips.

Elsa bit down on her lip, before scowling, "Fine."

The expression on Anna's face softened, before she extended a hand to the champion to help her off the mat. For a moment, Elsa forgot every hateful word that the girl had thrown at her, and grasped her by the hand firmly. Without another word, the pair embarked upon a week-long whirlwind of cross-training between their respective disciplines. Elsa thoroughly schooled Anna in her beautiful art of precise striking, modifying her style to suit Anna's smaller frame. Anna took Elsa through a masterclass of highly technical grappling, challenging her mobility and speed through exhausting drills.

At the end of it all, Elsa looked down at the mat, a puddle of her own sweat glistening against the lights, and then at Anna, keeled over with breath leaving her lips in sputtery threads. The girl caught a glimpse of Elsa staring at her, and shot her a glare.

"You don't have to keep looking at me," Elsa sneered, "I know I'm beaut-"

"I didn't say you weren't," Anna cut her off, before looking away, and heading for the showers.

Elsa's chest clenched at the comment, but she screwed her eyes shut and shook off the girl's words.


The next day, Elsa came in from her run to find the dry-erase board full of workouts she had been doing with Anna wiped clean. A single exercise was scrawled across.

Tuesday: Sparring.

"You read it, let's go," Kristoff announced, smacking his hands together.

Elsa looked over at Anna, stretching her thighs on the mat, "With her?"

"Who else?" Moana sniggered, "you two are the best. The best should learn from one another."

Elsa and Anna stared at each other from across the room, eyes filled with apprehension - as though they were wild animals looking to devour one another. As Anna got up and sauntered over to her, an indescribable feeling bubbled up in the pit of her stomach. Throughout their week of training, she had hesitated to lay a hand on the girl, and all of a sudden, she didn't want to. She looked into Anna's eyes, which now appeared turquoise beneath the lights, then at the freckles on her face and taut muscles flexing as she put on gloves.

The sight tied her chest into knots.

Her ambivalence also led to Anna shooting a vicious double-leg takedown that slammed Elsa square on the mat.

"Slow," Anna sneered, gripping both her wrists and pinning her down. Usually, at this point, Anna would've tied her opponent up into knots, but there was a second of hesitation as they looked into each others' eyes. A second was all the time it took for Elsa to untangle herself and slip out, a move Anna had taught her.

The realisation put a smirk on Anna's face, right before Elsa shoved her square in the chest with her foot. Despite the sheer reach of Elsa's limbs, it did nothing to upset Anna's balance, wrought from years of Jiu-Jitsu and strengthened by Elsa's tutelage. For the next hour, the pair battled in quiet competition, each strike and grapple nullified by their week of cross-training. The realisation sunk into them fast - despite Elsa's weight advantage, the two were evenly matched in every way possible.

Until-

-a mischievous glint lit up in Anna's eyes, and she rolled backwards onto her back. Elsa flinched, only to get her legs entangled in Anna's as the girl spun around. Before she knew it, Elsa found herself trapped in a heel hook.

"No, no, don't twist it!" Elsa shrieked, a moment before excruciating pain shot through her knee. A bloodcurdling scream echoed through the gym, and Anna immediately released her.

Terror flashed through Anna's eyes, and she scampered over to Elsa's side, "oh my god, oh my god, I'm so sorry."

"No, I'm fine," Elsa said, waving Anna off and flexing her knee, "it gets crummy sometimes."

"Are you sure-"

"Yes, I'm fucking sure," Elsa snarled at Anna, shooting her a look of annoyance, "I think we're done for today."

Anna bit her lip as she watched Elsa limp off to the showers, and tried in vain to stave off that pang of guilt and dread stabbing through her heart all at once.


"Alright, that should do it," the doctor muttered, removing the sleeve of ice from around Elsa's knee, "bang it up again and I'll be seeing you in the operating theatre instead."

Grimacing, Elsa took a few apprehensive steps, as that familiar feeling of numbness spread throughout her leg. Better than stabbing pain, I suppose. Satisfied that she'd evaded another round of injury, Elsa hobbled out of the physio's office and into the carpark.

"Fuck," Elsa swore, remembering that Kristoff dropped her off. She reached for her phone to call him, and stopped only when his black Ford rolled into the driveway. Instead of Kristoff, however, a slim redhead hopped out.

Despite their lengthy close-contact sparring from earlier, Anna halted an arm's length from Elsa, apprehension on her face.

"Why, why are you driving Kristoff's truck?" Elsa queried.

"They're both at night training," Anna said, sticking her hands into her jacket, "he told me to pick you up. Well, actually, I volunteered. I mean, if he told me, I would've-"

"You didn't have to," she seethed.

"Well, that's what I'm willing to do, since I just hurt a teammate, and all."

Elsa stabbed a finger at Anna, "We are not teammates!"

"Perhaps we aren't, perhaps we are, what difference does it make?" Anna answered, stepping closer, "I hurt you, nothing could've changed that, but I'm here to help you, to-"

"I don't need your fucking help, Anna-"

"What're you gonna do, limp home?"

Without another word, Anna swooped forward and lifted Elsa up in her arms.

"No, no, no, don't hurt my knees again!" Elsa shrieked, her voice echoing around the carpark. Despite Elsa's weight, Anna carried her off like a pillow, and deposited her in the front seat of Kristoff's truck. Chest heaving, Elsa turned towards Anna as she slid in next to her.

"Oh my god," Elsa gasped, prodding at her knee, "you don't give up, do you?"

Anna casted a sideways glance at her, "People like us, we never give up."

"What do you mean us," Elsa scowled, with the words I'm nothing like you, hanging off her lips.

Looking out the windscreen, with her wrist on the steering wheel, the girl looked back at Elsa.

"We're warriors, we don't ever give up," Anna said, "which is why you keep defending your title even though you limp back in agony after every fight. Which is why I fought so hard in Bantamweight just for the right to talk smack to you on stage. Sometimes we make the wrong decisions, we make mistakes, but it'll never tear us away from the fact that we were born to fight."

The matter-of-fact way in which Anna laid out her thoughts took Elsa aback. Like everything else which had transpired over the past week, this was totally unexpected, and she found herself grasping at words to reply her, only to find nothing but stunned silence on her lips.

"..And this is probably the reason why I've looked up to you for so long."

Anna's admission sent a rush of blood behind Elsa's cheeks.

"Now you're talking shit, it's pretty far-fetched of you to say that when all you've done was harangue me."

A smirk broke out on Anna's lips, before she burst out laughing.

"What the hell is so funny?" Elsa snarled, jabbing the girl hard in the shoulder.

"You sound so cute when you speak in French-"

Heat spread through Elsa's face, and she resisted the urge to smile, "Harangue? That's not even a French word!"

"Well, I've got something French for you," Anna said, pulling out a paper bag, "Kristoff told me about a French bakery down the road, they were closing up, but had leftover pastries for sale."

Elsa looked at the croissant held out before her face, and a grin on Anna's face. Part of her wanted to swat it away and punch her in the face. Still, the growling in her stomach won out.

"I learnt French for you too," Anna said, tapping their croissants together, "À ta santé, guerrière." (to your health, warrior)

"Et à toi aussi, Anna." (and to you too, Anna)

This time, as the taste of butter and flaky puff pastry dissolved in Elsa's mouth, she didn't hold back on the smile.

"Oh my god, it's filled with chocolate," Elsa exclaimed, cupping the crumbs in her hand, "pain au chocolat."

"I don't think one croissant will stop us from making weight, would it?" Anna commented, licking the chocolate off her fingers.

"My fight's nearly 3 weeks away, anyway-"

"Who're you fighting?" Anna asked.

"Title defence. Some chick from Belarus, Anatasia something-"

"Oh, I met her in another promotion," Anna commented, "tough motherfucker. Sprawl and brawler. Keep it standing and she gasses pretty quickly."

Elsa raised her eyebrows at Anna's advice, "...why, why are you telling me this?"

Anna looked down, before her lips pursed into a straight line.

"I want you to keep your title," Anna said, looking directly at Elsa, "because I wouldn't want to win it from anyone else."


The deafening roar of the crowd was but a whisper in Elsa's ears, drowned out by the thumping in her chest as she faced down her bloodied opponent. The two fighters circled each other, Anastasia - with a swollen eye and welts on her cheek, looking worse for wear than Elsa - who looked like she was fresh out of the lockers. Still, Anastasia refused to give up, still trying her best to defend and counterattack every one of Elsa's strikes, despite heaving with monstrous ferocity.

Tough bitch, Elsa thought, time to finish this.

Her opponent made a poor choice of attempting an ill-timed takedown. The clumsy attempt stopped short, and she ended up in a standing clinch with Elsa. Remembering Anna's advice, Elsa immediately unloaded a barrage of knees into Anastasia's gut. Gassed from round after round of brawling, Anastasia had no reply and desperately resisted the violence being unleashed upon her.

Sensing her opponent weakening, Elsa yanked her neck downwards and ploughed a knee into her face. Anastasia's nose and jaw crumpled from the impact. Blood splattered upon the canvas.

Elsa felt a ligament snap.

The bell rang, and both women collapsed on the ground in agony.

Kristoff hurdled into the ring, and helped Elsa onto a stool.

"What happened?" Kristoff asked, holding a bag of ice onto her knee. Adrenaline was still coursing through her veins, but she knew it was too late.

"My knee is fucked," Elsa snarled, looking over at Anastasia, where cornermen were trying to stem the bleeding from wounds opened up on her face.

"You're not thinking of stoppage, are you-"

"I'm not, but I don't think we have a choice."

Echoing her sentiments, the fight doctor walked over to Elsa and asked to see her knee. She flexed it once, face betraying utter, excruciating agony.

"Try putting some weight on it," he requested.

Her heel touched the mat, but there was nothing holding up her leg. Tears streamed down her cheeks when she realised what it meant.

"Alright, I'm calling it, your knee ligament is torn," the doctor said.

"Wait, wait, wait," Kristoff protested, "what about the other girl? Why aren't you stopping her?"

"She's fucked up, but at least she can stand and fight," the doctor retorted, before jabbing a finger at Elsa, "you, however, cannot."

Elsa shook her head, as the doctor turned and crossed his arms in the air, eliciting a chorus of booing from the audience. The announcer's voice barely rose over the howling rancor rising in the arena.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, due to Elsa Chenault's injury, the Doctor has called a stoppage to this Women's Featherweight Title Bout at the fifth round. Therefore, the winner of this fight, and the new Featherweight-"

The announcement faded into a thumping noise behind Elsa's eardrums as the referee took her title belt away and brought it over to Anastasia. Without another word, her opponent collapsed from her stool and slumped face first onto the mat, leaking blood everywhere. It's been three years as champion, but Elsa had never imagined it ending this way, losing to a woman she'd beaten to within an inch of her life.

Elsa turned to Kristoff, jaw still hanging open in shock.

"I think….I'm gonna need a stretcher to get out of here."


"I saw your fight," the doctor said, prodding at her knee, still swathed in bandages, "you almost had the win, what were you thinking throwing those knees?"

Elsa brushed off his comments, "how soon can I get this fixed?"

"Next week, and then another few months for rehab, but seriously, at the rate you're going, you're just going to hurt yourself again like the last two times. Soon you won't even be able to walk again, let alone fight. Do you really want this?"

She gritted her teeth, and shut her eyes as Anna's words filtered back into her mind.

We're warriors, we don't ever give up.

Tears brimmed beneath her eyelids.

"Yes."

The doctor frowned, and shook his head.

"You have a visitor," he said, "I told her to wait outside, but please try not to get into a fight here."

The sight of Anna standing in the doorway to the hospital ward amplified the frustration raging within her. But when the girl embraced her, something about Anna's touch soothed her to no end. Silently, she grasped at Anna's lithe, athletic body, enjoying the way she hugged her back.

"I saw your fight," Elsa said, wiping the tears from her eyes, "congratulations on getting the title."

"I can't believe this happened, you were so close to putting that bitch away" Anna seethed, "I hope this wasn't because of me-"

"No, no, this was all my goddamned fault," Elsa replied, "sometimes I'm too witless for my own good. But this isn't the first time I've gotten injured."

"It won't be the last, will it?" Anna asked, slithering her fingers through Elsa's, like they did so often while grappling. The warmth of Anna's hands comforted her. Try as she might, she found herself unwilling to let go. Blue eyes connected with green, and in the silence, both women told each other a story of the relentless pain and sacrifices they'd gone through to pursue this life. Hypnotised by Elsa's magnetic gaze, Anna shifted closer, and closer, until Elsa could feel the girl's breath on her lips.

"Keep that championship on ice for me," Elsa smirked, her mood already elevated by Anna's presence, "you never know if I'm gonna drop down to Bantamweight to get it from you."

"I'd love to see you try," Anna sneered, before a knock on the door drove them apart. Elsa hesitated to let the disappointment show on her face as Anna got up to answer the door.

Anna looked at Hans Andersen, each puzzled by the other's presence. The President of the Organisation gave Anna a passing nod, before he swept into the room with a briefcase.

"Put on a hell of a show last night, didn't you? Anastasia broke three bones in her face," Hans said, patting her shoulder, "pity about the knee."

Elsa gritted her teeth, and looked him in the eye, "I'm sorry for getting injured, sir. I'll try not to let it happen again."

Hans looked away, and scoffed, before opening his briefcase, and taking out the Featherweight title belt. He flopped it onto her lap, sending a spurt of agony through her leg.

"Anastasia's B-sample came back positive, she was doped up on Anabolic steroids the entire fight," Hans said, "fight result has been overturned to a no-contest, you're still the champion."

The gleaming title belt shone in Elsa's hands. She'd retained it for more than three years, but the object still felt foreign to her, like she'd never held it before, and didn't deserve to.

"I don't want it," Elsa complained, holding it out to him, "I was an idiot for throwing those knees and I don't deserve-"

"The entire MMA community thinks you won that fight fair and square, to retain your title after a doctor stoppage because Anastasia tested positive is a literal miracle, so don't you fucking give me this bullcrap after all I've done to push you all these years. Besides, there are other plans."

"What-"

"Last event did really well for PPV," Hans said, "I'm trying to start a fight between you and Anna, for either the Featherweight or Bantamweight titles. Winner takes all. With the backstory and rivalry in place, this will break all PPV records."

"How the hell am I supposed to fight her with a busted knee?" Elsa griped.

"Oh you'll be back, not the first time you've gotten injured and continued to defend your title," Hans sneered, before turning for the door. He paused for a moment, before tilting his head back at her.

"Fighting is all you ever knew anyway."


In six months, Elsa found herself back on stage for another press conference, behind the same title belt, and dark aviators hiding her disinterest as she cut a relaxed figure. Her knee was still numb from painkillers, and her entire body ached from the extensive training she'd done to make up for time in rehab. Behind her, an enormous LED screen flickered with flames, bordering the promotional banner.

JULY 3RD - MAIN EVENT: CHENAULT VS FERGUSON, FEATHERWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP

Elsa flexed her knee, resisting the urge to prod it further while she waited for questions. Lost in her thoughts, she nearly missed a reporter's question.

"...injury that you received in your previous fight, how confident are you of defending your title again so soon?"

She picked up her microphone, and rattled off her scripted answer.

"This isn't the first time I've gotten injured, and I've been working with the team on figuring out the best way to avoid these situations in the future. Our main goal is to provide an entertaining fight for the fans and this promotion. Having Anna Ferguson as a first comeback fight is also a suitable warm-up for when the real contenders start coming-"

As anticipated, Anna cut her off on the mic immediately, her Scottish accent bouncing off the walls.

"We'll see how warmed up you are when I break your other fucking leg, you French twat. I think Amazon Prime has express shipping for crutches, you can get them by July 3rd."

The crowd jeered. Elsa feigned a sneer, before retorting, "I'll rearrange your face until they can't find your nose at Glasgow Airport. Baggage Claim? I think I'm missing a nose. Owner, one ugly-ass Scottish redhead."

The audience erupted in cheering and booing, its sheer volume vibrating the stage. This time, a full minute passed before a reporter could get a question in.

"We've heard rumours that Elsa and Anna are training at the exact same gym, how do you think that will impact the fight-"

Hans stepped in, "I think I've made it clear in the past that the training camp system is separate from this promotion, and fighters are free to accept fights with whomever they want, regardless if they're from the same camp or not-"

Elsa picked up the mic, "Well, I've gotten a front row seat to see how shit she is, if that's what you're asking." The comment elicited howls of laughter.

"And I've figured out why Elsa can't make Bantamweight, if you count how many goddamned protein shakes she guzzles after training," Anna mocked, eliciting even more rancorous laughter.

Resisting the urge to laugh along, Elsa feigned a scowl, before pointing a middle finger at Anna, who reciprocated in kind. The pair continued to trade verbal jabs and insults, until Hans invited them back together centrestage for a final face-off. With title belts slung upon their shoulders, the pair strode towards each other, and immediately butted heads like a pair of dueling rams. Anna stuck out an upturned palm, inviting Elsa for a fight, only to have it swatted away and further separated by Hans.

"Make sure you are ready," Anna sneered, edging towards Elsa like a Rottweiler on a leash.

"Oh I'm ready," Elsa shouted back, as the fracas intensified.

I'm ready for you.


Despite all the commotion, and the name-calling, and their entourages shoving at each other, Elsa and Anna found themselves alone in the same hotel elevator. The two women looked at each other, and sighed.

"Can't believe they put us on the same floor," Elsa muttered.

"It's either a cruel joke Kristoff and Moana are playing on us," Anna answered, "or fate. Like the day I showed up at your gym by accident."

"You know, for all that trash-talk you keep pulling off, you're an awfully sentimental person-"

Anna shook her head, red pigtails swishing about, "Oh I'm not usually like this. Only when I'm with you."

Elsa kept silent, allowing the girl's words to swim around inside her head, each lap increasing the confusion raging within her. Casting a sideways glance at Elsa, Anna noticed her jaw clenching, and looked away, fiddling with the hem of her dress. Words deserted them both as they swept out of the elevator, and a pang of longing struck Elsa when she reached her suite.

"I'll see you in the ring tomorrow," Elsa whispered, allowing her eyes to rove down Anna's body one more time.

A pause. Before the redhead tilted her chin.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?"

Elsa's chest clenched, "I don't think you're the sort of person who needs an invitation," she said, before entering her suite, leaving the door ajar. As expected, the girl invited herself in, before her eyes widened at the size of the room.

"My god, how big is this suite? It's like, four times the size of mine!"

"Champ's privileges," Elsa muttered with a smirk, pouring herself a glass of water, "you'll get there one day."

Curling up on the couch, Elsa watched as the girl wandered around the living room, unsure of why she invited herself in, but not wanting her to leave at the same time.

"I don't even know what the hell you're doing here," Elsa said.

"What's the matter?" Anna asked, pulling a chair next to her, "Never had an opponent in your room the night before a fight?"

"Never," Elsa answered, and this time, her heart spoke before she could stop herself, "maybe I don't always see you as a rival."

Anna ruffled a hand through her hair, lips quivering in ambivalence, "What do you see me as, then?"

The confusion swirling around in Elsa's mind did nothing for her, "I don't know. Just a woman, perhaps."

Anna's lips pursed into a straight line, before she sighed, "it's been a goddamned long time since anyone saw me as one."

Looking away, Elsa took a deep breath, before sputtering, "I'm sorry, I get confused about you sometimes."

"Don't be."

Without another word, Anna leaned in and captured Elsa's lips with her own. The kiss was brief, lasting merely a second, before Anna pulled away. In the ensuing silence, she expected either a fist in her face, or another kiss, and upon receiving neither, stared into Elsa's blue eyes, hoping for an answer.

None came either.

"I hope that cleared your confusion," Anna whispered, before wiping her lips and rising to leave.

"Don't go, please," Elsa pleaded. She tugged at Anna's wrist. The slight motion upset her balance, sending Anna toppling onto the couch, and onto Elsa. Their eyes met; turquoise and blue, both glowing with desire. Anna sighed, her breath sending Elsa's fringe fluttering.

"Why not?" Anna asked.

"Because, because-" Elsa sputtered, the pounding of her heart making thinking impossible, "you look absolutely beautiful when your face isn't smashed in."

Deft fingers traced the outline of Anna's lips, before the girl placed them upon her chest.

"Can you feel it?" Anna asked, her heart pounding against Elsa's fingers, "This is what I feel, everytime I'm with you. Everytime I see you fight. Everytime we train together, or when you look my way and think I don't notice."

Elsa's face blushed a scarlet red, "Oh my god, Anna. I didn't know. I didn't know you felt this way."

"Now you do. It's not like I can help myself," Anna scowled, "And I don't know what to do with it. The whole world expects us to beat the shit out of each other tomorrow."

A hand slipped around Anna's neck, before she pulled her in for another kiss.

"I...I never imagined," Elsa whispered, icy-cool breath still swirling on Anna's lips, "the path I've chosen, all these years, would lead me to this. To you."

"What're you going to do about it, then?"

"I don't know," Elsa said, kissing Anna over and over again, "I don't know, I don't know, I don't know, and for once, it feels so fucking good."

Right there on the couch, the women devoured each other with a long withheld hunger. No longer constrained by the public spectacle of their rivalry, Anna and Elsa unleashed a torrent of unbridled desire upon one another. Limbs and lips and fingers intertwined in an intricate dance of passion. They found themselves on Elsa's bed when it was over, still heaving from the exhilaration, and for the first time, feeling like women again.

"Stay with me," Elsa begged, clutching Anna's trembling frame to herself, "just for tonight. Please."

Her fingers were quivering from the sheer energy still pulsating through her body. Staring at the bits of clothing strewn all over the suite, Anna held onto Elsa, knowing for the first time in her life, she'd do anything for her.


They next saw each other in the ring, in front of dozens of cameras, twice the screaming fans, and harsh white lights that scorched the canvas. It happened all too quickly: the sound of the bell, the referee yelling, "fight!", and Elsa throwing her fist into Anna's face. For the next 25 minutes, the two warriors went to war with one another, knowing they wouldn't want anything else despite their profession of affection for one another. Anna noticeably avoided attacking Elsa's knees, but otherwise, neither fighter let up on the ferocious assault, until the final round.

Bloodied and bruised, Elsa survived takedown after takedown, even as she looked close to putting away Anna with her clean striking, while Anna kept the fight on the ground for as long as she could, nullifying Elsa's reach advantage.

At the end of all things, they stood together in the center, separated by the referee, and waited for the results. Elsa looked over at Anna, bleeding from a cut lip, and with her right eye swollen shut.

You look beautiful when your face isn't bashed in.

The thought made her giggle, and Anna turned to pull her in for a hug, right as the announcer's voice echoed around the Arena.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, after five rounds, the winner of this Featherweight Championship bout, by way of Split Decision-"

A deafening roar filled the arena.

They tightened their embrace as confetti fluttered down around them.

"Did you hear who won?" Anna asked, as tears streamed down her face.

"No," Elsa answered, sobbing into Anna's shoulder.

"Me neither."


A/N: This is loosely based on the rivalry between UFC Fighters Joanna Jedrzejczyk and Claudia Gadelha, including some lines from The Ultimate Fighter 23 (I claim no ownership)