AN:

I know, it's pretty short by current PaT standards. I believed my ability to be concise lost and forgotten to time, but I guess a comeback is never excluded?

Oath

"Anna?" Elsa called.

It felt like her voice was being swallowed by the heavy air, eaten by an invisible entity that snatched it right from her throat before she could even let it out. When Anna turned, her face was streaked with tears.

"You did this," she whispered. "You took him from me."

Blood drained from Elsa's face at Anna's hostility. Clenched fists, hard eyes; her sister looked unnatural.

The ground cracked between them. A mighty stream of pressured air erupted from the fissure, and through its violent storm she glimpsed a familiar figure—her grandfather, sword raised against unarmed Northuldra. The scene shifted and twisted; now it was Garret's crystalline armor, empty and inanimate, facing down Runeard's blade.

"No!" Elsa tried to run, but in the same sense as her voice, the ground under her was gone and her feet pedaled into void. Ice crinkled at her fingertips but dissolved into useless mist. Garret's armor cracked and splintered, splitting open to reveal his body, paler than even her, eyes closed and lips discolored.

"Garret—"

The currents parted, revealing a young woman Elsa recognized as her mother. Iduna stood between faceless combatants, hands drawn to her sides. Then her small body rippled and grew, darkness flowing around her until she became a towering figure of starlight. Ahtola shifted around, becoming the sky itself.

"A truth that burns, a lie that heals. Choose."

The cloak disappeared, coalesced into Garret's armor. It had stopped breaking, but something worse was happening. Frost was turning to steam. The perfect ice she knew so well was melting away, leaving him exposed and vulnerable. His eyes now open found hers across the distance, and the disappointment in them cut deeper than any blade. Anna stood at his side, disgusted.

"I waited," he said, his voice hollow. "I waited because I thought you were worth it." He took a step back, then another. "But you'll never be ready, will you?"

"And you'll run away as soon as you can," she spat.

"Garret, Anna…" Elsa pleaded, finally breaking free of whatever held her in place. But with each step she took toward them, they retreated further into the mist. "I just need more time—"

"Time?" His laugh was bitter, nothing like the warm chuckles and silly smiles she treasured. "You always need more time."

Elsa lunged forward, but her hands passed through empty air. The mist swallowed them completely, leaving her alone in the darkness with only the echo of his words.

"It can't be worth it."

Elsa jerked awake with a gasp. She pressed a hand to her mouth, stifling the sob that threatened to escape. The nightmare's words still rang in her ears, mixing with her own doubts until she couldn't tell them apart.

It can't be worth it.

The familiar weight of Anna's arm around her waist grounded her in reality, but the cold hard sweat and the tremor in her hands remained. Across the room, she could just make out Garret sleeping on one of the bunks, his chest rising and falling in steady rhythm. Kristoff was right beside him, face covered by his hat.

She took a moment to breathe, to let herself fully exit her accursed dreams. Elsa pondered waking Anna up, her hand hovering over her shoulder. But her calm, serene face, and the way she was snaked around her gave her pause. Her sleep had been agitated too; a rested Anna took as much space as allowed and ideally had her tongue's tip out.

Elsa pushed aside the thought that her sister could be accurately described using the semantic field for a golden retriever and delicately rooted out her own body from Anna's grip. Some weak protests gave way to her light snoring a few seconds after.

Sleep would not find Elsa again, she was sure of it – especially not now that a faint light fractured in through the wood's gaps around her. Elsa slid out of the bed and tiptoed to the door, keeping her eyes glued to Garret all the while; he too needed rest. She closed it as quietly as she could manage. Sally chose that moment to pop out of her braid, giving her an affectionate nudge to the cheek. Elsa responded with a weak smile and a quick rub of her pinky over his back.

Thoughts of Garret flooded her mind—his clear laughter, his sneer and disdain, the way his eyes lit up when he spoke of sculpting, the empty look he bore inside his armor. She swallowed hard, longing and fear swirling within her.

The forest shone in shades of burnished gold and rich crimson, the delicate tendrils of mist an otherworldly backdrop to the crisp morning air. Elsa walked until she was at the very edge of the empty and slumbering camp, hands wrapped tightly around her middle. Sally jumped off and ran to join some of his brothers who appeared then, flames dim and gentle, emerging from a drowsy night too.

She took a moment to breathe, though it didn't get easier. The Red Forest was everything the books had said it was – majestic, mystical, and indeed, very red. The golden hue of whatever managed to pass through the shroud glittered on vermillion grass, reflecting upwards in a warm blanket; the smell of fresh dew filled her lungs with each intake, the sounds of rustling leaves and playful chirps from Sally's group appeasing and calming. But the weight pulling her entrails was too stubborn to go.

Lost in thought, Elsa almost didn't register Garret's approach until he was nearly beside her. Of course he had heard her, surely felt her magic stir. She always forgot that his sleep was lighter than even her naps. He made no effort to soften his footsteps, but his easy familiarity only exacerbated the ragged edges the long night had left behind.

"Been overthinking again," he remarked in lieu of good morning, a note of tentative inquiry beneath his light tone. Elsa kept her eyes fixed on the brightening horizon, fingers tightened around her mother's scarf.

"Garret, I'm so sorry about yesterday," she rushed out, unable to bear even a speck of disappointment in his expression. "That distance, I... I know it came out of nowhere. You're here to help and I'm not giv–"

"No," Garret interrupted, ignoring her rambling. "Allow me to clarify something."

When she finally glanced at him, she found no trace of reproach, only pained understanding. The morning light kissed his face, turning red to brilliant crimson and green to sparkling emerald, as if nature itself conspired to highlight the tender look he was giving her. How could he look at her like that when she had given him nothing besides uncertainty?

He took a deep breath.

"I get it. I know you think you're stringing me along. That you're not doing enough for me. That this search for yourself is at my expense."

Spot on, as he usually was. And as usual, he was about to wave it all away. Elsa opened her mouth to protest, but he barreled on, the words tumbling out of him like a breaking wave.

"You think you're hiding. That we might run out of time, that you promised something you're not even sure you can give." He shook his head with vehemence. "You're not keeping anything from me. You told me exactly what you felt two years ago, and you've stuck to your word ever since."

Her heart skipped a beat, the phrases she'd started rehearsing in her head already forgotten; his hands found hers, calm against her trembling fingers. Garret's gaze softened further while his thumbs swept over her knuckles in slow arcs.

"You told me you weren't ready to decide what this was," he reminded her quietly. "And I told you I'd wait for you to find what you're missing. It's unlikely seeing where we are, but if that's ten, thirty, fifty years, so be it. I know it sounds ridiculous; I don't care. I mean it."

She let an almost involuntary laugh escape from her chest. "It does sound quite ridiculous."

Garret just released one of her hands to brush a strand of hair behind her ear, as light as a feather. "I'm not worried about that. I never was. I knew on that boat I could heal, and I know you'll figure out who you are."

Elsa couldn't suppress one sniffle. Garret was focused, the golden sheen of autumn leaves pearling over his irises. His shoulders relaxed, his eyes sharpened, his breath evened. Somehow, she felt his next sentence in the way he smiled at her and the squeeze he gave her hands before she heard it from his mouth.

"I'm in love with you, Elsa."

The words hung between them, momentous as a sigh. Elsa's lips parted, but no sound emerged, her voice stopped somewhere behind the sudden lump in her stomach and the hammering in her throat.

"If anything you probably knew that already," he resumed with a shrug. "But I'm saying it so you get why I'm here." His smile turned a little rueful. "I don't really know when it started. But it had to be somewhere between the day you saved my life from this right here–" he gestured to his lower back, the scar she knew all too well, "and the day you taught me I could get it back from this up here." He tapped his temple. "I don't expect you to say it. Not now, not after you get out there and understand who you are. Just know that I'll be there, every step of the way, in whatever fashion you need me."

Elsa's vision blurred, hot and prickly, and her head dropped. She squeezed her eyes shut, fearing she couldn't hold them back, but a few rogue tears escaped to trail down her cheeks all the same. Garret brushed them away with the pad of his thumb. His voice dropped even lower, taking that deep tone that gave her goosebumps.

"I'm at your side, Elsa. Right where I want to be. The waiting, the promise, the kiss... that's all secondary." He ducked his head to catch her gaze. "You're the primary. Not you and me – you. That's my truth."

Elsa let out a soul-deep exhale that felt like the first full breath she'd had in days. It joined the faint hum of the breeze around them, thinner than air.

"Garret..." She swallowed. "I can't ask you to wait that long for– "

"You didn't ask," he interrupted again, his voice clear and certain. "I chose to. And if after everything, you see yourself with a stray ice-wielder who's definitely a league or two behind? Then I'd be the luckiest man on this little ball of dirt. But if you don't?" Garret huffed a quiet chuckle. "That's fine by me too."

He captured her hands again, bringing them up. He asked with his eyes, waiting for a permission she granted with a small nod to press a kiss to her knuckles, burning against her chilled skin.

"Whatever you decide, I have no intention of leaving you behind," he vowed, low and fervent. "And that, Elsa Arnadalr, is my oath to you. One I'm happy to keep. On everything that I am... I will always fight to stay at your side. You've always been more than enough."

The sheer conviction behind the words stole Elsa's breath, the tightness in her chest unspooling. Fresh tears spilled over to dampen her cheeks, but her lips curved upwards, shaking yet real. Garret returned the smile with one of his own, fond, brilliant as sunlight and oh so rejuvenating. One of those smiles she had come to love and hadn't realized she'd missed terribly.

"Pardon my directness," he added, his eyes now closed. "But I think you needed me to say it out loud as much as I did."

Elsa stepped closer, bringing her forehead against his and the back of her free hand to his cheek. She drew circles there that felt minute and so very insignificant, but she wanted him to feel her. His presence anchored her, allowed the forest's oddly intense warmth to envelop her.

A choked sob went past her lips. Garret didn't speak, didn't try to stop the tears. He put a light hand over her shoulder, the other holding her left; he stayed close and let her release the tension and fear that had gripped her for what felt longer than just the day before.

He'll still be here, was the thought that gave her knees the will not to buckle. She wasn't driving him away, and that was all she could have hoped for.

"I thought… I was disappointing you. That I wasn't being what you needed," she whispered when the crying fizzled, the words rusty and inadequate in the face of everything he'd just laid bare. But she heard his smile in the way his breathing changed, a benediction and an answer in one.

"Nonsense. Whether as your guard, your friend, or something else – my ice is yours, and that won't change."

She cupped his face with both hands now, murmuring a quiet "Thank you," he answered with a calm nod. A nod that could have been the word that gave her strength, the one she now allowed herself to believe with all her might. A word that he uttered again, his everlasting promise.

"Always."

They stayed like that for a moment, breathing each other in. The masked sun crested the horizon and the salamanders' lights went from golden to violet with the clearing weather. Her heartbeat, so frantic at first, began to slow, aligning with the quiet harmony of their shared moment. He smelled of fresh leather and wild heather – something so strangely familiar.

She took a minute to calm down, and they separated fully afterwards, her hands coming to rest atop his. Then she noticed something.

"You're shaking," she said, well aware that half of it was probably her own tremors transferring over.

"Adrenaline's wearing off," he explained with an imperceptible wince. "I'm… particularly awful at speeches."

Elsa couldn't repress a quiet laugh, her heart warming at the subtle redness coloring his cheeks now. "Then I'm shocked. For someone who isn't good at speeches, that was a pretty impressive one. What will it be once you've had some training with Gerda?"

Garret grinned. "I saw Anna go through that. I couldn't survive a day."

Elsa's expression sobered and she cleared her throat, her brows knitting together. "Garret… About your armor," she started, studying his face.

"I know. I know. It… was a hard choice. An impulsive one. Couldn't be sure using it on her would have worked."

"How do you feel?" Elsa probed gently. She reached up to push his terrible, unruly bang away from his eyes, allowing her to peer into them the way she usually did.

Garret was quiet for a moment. "Still a bit strange," he admitted. "Only had a few this intense, but I don't think I was ever this conscious. I could hear Honeymaren clearly, and… bits of your and Anna's voices. They helped. A lot." He paused. "And… Well, it's weird to say but the armor didn't hurt. Physically, I mean. It used to sting."

Elsa nodded slowly, her thumb absently rubbing against his forearm.

"That's not all there is to it, am I wrong?"

Garret took a long breath in, dangled his head left and right as if not really sure of what he was about to say.

"I didn't see Ma' this time," he confessed. "You know she usually shows up all scary and screaming. This one was mostly just background explosions and woodfire. Because of course."

Elsa sighed, lowering her gaze. "I'm sorry, I put you in a situation you had to–"

"Again, Elsa," Garret stopped her, covering her hand with his own. "My choice. I used it willingly. Not your fault."

"Still. Still your consequences to deal with… You're sacrificing much for my sake." She looked back up at him. Resolve and certainty were not emotions she experienced often, but they were now burning inside her like rarely they had. "I'd like to talk to you. All three of you. About the next trials."

Garret's features hardened in a way that didn't quite suit him. "If you're thinking of benching us, none of us will agree. And Anna won't take it as well as I do."

"Of course not," Elsa agreed with a small, knowing smile. "She made it clear you would follow anyway. But I want you as safe as reasonably possible. I can trust you three, but these trials… Like Water's test, some things I will need to do alone."

Garret hesitated for a fleeting second, then nodded.

"Okay."

Elsa breathed easier, some of the tension evaporating at his understanding. She reluctantly stepped back, letting her hands fall from him. "And I'd also like us to talk again. About what you just… explained."

"Oh? Ominous."

He sounded more amused than anything else.

"Nothing of the sort. I think... I needed this indeed. But I'll find Anna first, she wanted me to speak of something…"

"…sisterlier? Elsa the Snow Queen's finally got to go be a big Sis'?" he teased.

Elsa rolled her eyes. "Something like that. I must make myself presentable. I wouldn't hear the end of it if she saw me like this."

Garret chuckled and lifted his hands to her face. Elsa was surprised at her cheeks burning beneath his touch while his thumbs erased the now crystallized tear tracks with careful strokes.

"I can still take care of myself, Mister Archer-guard," she mumbled, trying for reproach but failing to keep the affection from her voice.

Garret simply smiled. "I know. Doesn't mean you have to, though," he said with that shiver-inducing timber. Elsa couldn't help but giggle when he playfully poked her nose with his thumb still. "There you go. Now you look positively royal."

As they made their way back toward the center of camp, Elsa felt a newfound lightness coursing her body, the vice grip of fear that had held her captive since the nightmare loosening its hold with every step.

She replayed their dance two years before, and finally understood why he had chosen not to return the impulsive kiss she'd given him that night. Why he'd chosen to answer with a lighter, truer touch on her forehead. Why he had been exactly what she needed.

Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks, hazarding a glance towards the camp to ensure nobody had awakened, then looked back at her other immovable rock. He was already getting worried by the looks of it.

"Your forehead is too high for me," she said, her mind made up.

Before Garret could question her, she turned to face him fully, a determined drive pushing her. In a swift but measured movement, her hand came up, she slightly angled his face toward her, stretched up and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

This once, she let it linger, took her time, breathed out, felt his skin against her, the stubble, the line of his jaw under her fingers, the subtle chill that emanated from him, his quickening pulse. She even allowed her lips to stick slightly to his skin as she finally, slowly pulled away. The sensation felt more intimate than anything she had ever done before – but in that moment, propriety was the furthest thing from her mind. All that mattered was showing Garret how much his words, his steadfast patience, his love, meant to her.

The poor man blinked then stared at her, stunned into silence. She held his gaze for a long moment, a faint blush heating up her face.

"You're not one league or two behind," she told him, assured, proud and anything else that could pass for a semblance of confidence. "You never were."

With that, she turned on her heels, holding her head high in an attempt to appear as dignified as possible despite the telltale pink still getting to her ears.

Garret forgot how his lungs worked for a moment. Her hand left scorching marks over his jaw, her lips an entire volcano on his cheek. He was reminded, for a quick second, just how hard he had fallen for her. And, incidentally, how merciless she had just been with his heart.

As she walked away, Garret noticed the extra sway in Elsa's hips, the graceful slope of her shoulders as she moved, the delicate sparkle of her skin under the morning rays. For a moment, it felt as though she was made of light itself, and Garret could hardly tear his gaze away from her.

Did she always move like that?

Each step seemed imbued with a new sense of purpose, and Garret found himself mesmerized by the subtle shift.

Elsa glanced back at him over her shoulder, a small, secret smile at the corners of her mouth. Dawn light set the platinum strands aglow, a halo around her that was somehow outshone by her radiant expression.

"Elsa, I didn't... I just said I wasn't expec–" he managed to force out past the sudden dryness in his throat.

"I know," she cut him off gently, and God help him, even her voice sounded different now. Lower, huskier, smoother. "I wanted to do that. For me."

Garret got a hold of himself then, and he sketched a playful bow in her direction, one of those he barely put effort into and knew looked goofy.

"As my queen commands."

He stood up, a boyish grin spreading across his face as he watched her disappear behind the first huts with a small wave.

"Next time..." a voice drawled from behind him.

Garret spun to find Honeymaren leaning against a nearby tree with an eyebrow arched in amusement and crossed arms, a small basket dangling from her right hand. His face flooded with another type of heat, the one that felt awkward and very aware of how public that kiss had been.

"…make sure no one's there."

"Honeymaren! What – How–" he stammered.

"I thought you saw me coming in," she explained. "Too busy making eyes at your esteemed ruler, I see. I thought there was something going on between you two."

"It's not – we weren't – that is to say –" Garret fumbled for an explanation, but Honeymaren's knowing look cut him short.

"Please, I saw the way you were staring at her butt," Honeymaren teased. "Not exactly subtle. Pretty sure even the spirits blushed."

Garret knew his cheeks had deepened to a violent red and threw a glance towards the little clearing where Sally and his brothers were perched on a rock, eyes wide open and flames turned soft blue.

"I wasn't – I didn't mean to–" He groaned, burying his face in his right hand, his left coming to rest on his hip. "Okay, yes, we had a... moment. But please, Honeymaren, don't tell Her Majesty. She'd be mortified if she knew someone saw that."

Honeymaren chuckled. "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me, iceman. Can't honestly blame you, Arendelle has excellent taste in royalty."

At that, Garret's head snapped up, his eyes narrowing. Honeymaren held up her hands in mock surrender. She pushed off from the tree, her movements carrying that practiced fluidity he'd noticed during their trek through the caves.

"Relax lover boy, I'm not trying to move in on your girl," she assured him. "She's absolutely lovely, but a bit too regal for my tastes. I'd go for someone more laid-back. Fiery, even."

Garret snorted, shaking his head. "Princess Anna is taken, I'm afraid."

She sauntered closer, shifting her heavy basket to her other arm.

"Oh, believe me I noticed." She gave him an overdramatic sigh. "T'would be a shame."

The teasing in her voice made Garret pause. He watched her carefully, years of military training kicking in as he tried to read past her playful demeanor.

"A... shame, what?" When she merely arched an eyebrow, he felt his voice pitch higher. "A shame, what?"

Something shifted in her stance. Her shoulders tensed, and that playful spark in her eyes dimmed into something more contemplative. The basket creaked as she adjusted her grip.

"Did you mean it?"

"Hmm?"

Garret was confused by the sudden change in tone. There was none of the earlier suspicion he'd grown used to seeing from the Northuldra—just genuine curiosity.

"What you said to her."

"You listened to all that too?" he asked, more than a little angry at her for spying on Elsa's most private moments.

She shook her head. "But I saw how she was with you yesterday. Going from that to eating your face needs a bit of a push." Her lips quirked up, but her eyes remained serious. "And she doesn't strike me as someone who gets close easy. Did you mean it?"

Garret looked toward where Elsa had disappeared, something warm unfurling in his chest at the memory. He turned back to Honeymaren.

"I meant every word. Most of it wasn't planned. Just came out."

Honeymaren nodded, seemingly satisfied. "Good. Honesty's always the way to go." She shifted the basket again, grimacing at its weight. "And anything planned can't really be honest." With a weary sigh that evoked too many early mornings and that Garret easily empathized with, she glanced toward the center of camp. "Anyway, I'd better go let Ryder prepare some food. He gets cranky if he spends his morning hungry."

Garret's eyes lowered to her basket—too heavy for only two people's worth of gatherings. He felt a twinge of sympathy for the obvious strain it was causing her. "Need help?"

"Maybe later. You don't want to be near Ryder after a night inside the old man's tent."

The familiar way she spoke of Mattias didn't escape Garret's notice. A softening that warmed his heart and reminded him of something.

"Hey," he called. She turned to him with a quizzical lift of her brows. "I didn't thank you for your help in the cave. So, thanks. You saved me a lot of pain."

She nodded. "Only fair. Happens often? Battle-sisters seemed awfully familiar with it."

Garret let a smile appear, one that reminded him of the road behind him, the life he had let himself envision. He flexed his hand, remembering the armor's chilling weight, how even now Elsa's soft touch had dimmed its bite. But above all, despite how terrifying it still was, he was proud that he had triumphed over it another time.

"Less and less."

AN:

Thank you for reading you beautiful people you!

Soooooo, my favorite chapter also happens to be the shortest in a long, looooong time. But it's also the one that has asked the most work out of me to really articulate what I wanted it to say.

Obviously, confession time, but it was ironically almost a consequence than something I absolutely wanted to happen - this is more about Frozen's core themes: unconditional support and the weight of expectations.

Excited to hear your thoughts!

This is also the end of my hot streak (Three chapters in less than two weeks, hot daymn) since vacations are coming to an end - but do not fret, next chapter is already in the works.

Chapter 10 - Tear's theme is Grotti, from Skald.

Peace,

CalAm.