Hunched over a pan of Alfredo Ravioli, pity surged within Anna as she cast her weary gaze toward Elsa's shut door. A part of her wanted to knock. Wine glass in hand. Here, drink up - I'm sorry if you had any misgivings towards my refusal. Watch her eyes light up again and hear that sweet voice between mouthfuls of pasta. But the same part of her dreaded that stare which turned frosty cold in an instant. She must feel so alone in the new world. Nothing but broken memories and another equally broken girl for company. The thought made her want to unlock the wine cabinet and help herself too. Anna shook her head and ate her fill of pasta. Sealing the leftovers in tupperware and spending the rest of the evening typing her daily report.
Subject open to conversations. Subject starting to show signs of alcohol withdrawal.
Anna forgot to include observations about the heated pan.
Years of working in an organisation that solved its problems with brute force convinced Anna to sleep on the couch. Fearful that Elsa would sneak into the kitchen and smash the liquor cabinet with a sledgehammer. Not that there were any sledgehammers in the house, mind you. She checked. But given the NSA's remarkable silence over such a damning state secret locked away in this house and refusing to talk to her. Anna was convinced there were other secrets lurking about. Maybe buried alien spacecraft in the backyard.
The uncomfortable position on the couch filled Anna's restless sleep with vivid dreams. Boots dragging through the shattered glass of an apartment complex. Scrawled Cyrillic graffiti in ghastly red paint she wished she didn't understand. Menacing sounds from the basement. Were those rats? Or humans? Were they Russian stragglers with bullets for her team instead of a white flag? Anna woke in fits and starts before she found out. Usually from the whimper of imagined sobs from Elsa's room. As she tumbled further and deeper into her slumber, couldn't tell apart which were hers and which were Elsa's. As the tangle of her nightmares dragged her further into its depths - all she heard was her own voice. Over and over again.
Fuck up. Fuck up. Fuck up.
A fuck up of a childhood. A fuck up of a career. Fucked up relationships - and now she'd fucked up looking after the one job she had.
She woke with a backache. Decided to go on a five-mile run and leave the Elsa-watching to NSA drones buzzing overhead. Which seemed more interested in watching her. None of the miles straightened out that kink in her back. But the sight of Elsa in the kitchen eating leftover pasta undid the knot in her chest.
"I thought you left me," Elsa stared at her pointedly.
"I thought you didn't want to talk to me anymore," Anna turned to the open microwave, "Ah - I see you've figured the magic oven out."
"Works a charm," Elsa set the half-empty tupperware down, "I don't suppose it's too late to patch things between us. Frankly, I was offended you'd deny me the comfort of some wine. I felt a bit silly - having everything at the snap of my finger to bargaining for something so simple. But I reckoned you must have my interests at heart."
"Both our interests."
"I've seen how hollering-drunk men can behave while on campaign. Eyes that have seen too much. Ears that hear only screams. They try to drown it all out with Merlot and end up only drowning themselves," Elsa bit her lip, "I've told myself that I'd never become like them. And perhaps I see now you were trying to prevent me going down that path."
"Oh trust me, you don't want to," Anna shook her head, "and I don't think I'd be very amenable to dealing with a roaring-drunk roommate. College was bad enough."
"I'd apologise like a proper lady should," Elsa looked down, "but you're probably weary of hearing me beg for forgiveness."
Anna grimaced, perspiration dripped off her brow. Army PT Shorts and a t-shirt. She'd counted on taking a shower before Elsa woke. Now the Queen's stare was burning into her exposed calves - the most untoward thing she's worn in front of Elsa.
"I don't think there's anything to forgive," Anna shrugged, "for all we know, you could find me insufferable in the future. Or right now, for wearing all manner of licentious dress before your delicate Victorian eyes."
"Hah! I scarcely think those breeches could count as offensive."
"Or do we have a joiner on our hands?" Anna cocked her eyebrows, "I'm meant to take you shopping for clothes today, after all."
"Oh! Is this a substitute for our morning walk?" Elsa smiled through her eyes.
"Yes - though I do expect you to take a shower and put on a coat. At least this will help deter the prying eyes when we get to JCPenney's."
She led Elsa to the bathroom. Went in great detail explaining the positive aspects of a shower versus soaking in a bath. Demonstrated how to summon heated water on demand with a slight turn of the dial. Soap and body lotion and shampoos. Fluffy towels from Bed Bath and Beyond. A long-sleeved pale blue dress that fell to her ankles.
"Are you familiar with these?" Anna held out the floral scent of shampoo to her nose.
"Why yes, just that instead of glass jars - you now have these flimsy bottles."
"Plastic."
"And where my Maids used to wash my hair, I now must contend with my own hands."
"Will you be fine on your own?" Anna asked.
"Do your duties extend to giving me a bath?"
The statement gathered in fuzzy warmth within Anna's belly. She looked at Elsa, waiting a second to see if she was serious. Prospect held between the Queen's thin cherry pink lips.
"I jest."
"Heh," Anna giggled, "I assumed you were."
The cheery smile on Anna's face faded the instant the bathroom door clicked shut. Quick footsteps led her away to her notes and reports. Not wanting to hear the slide of chiffon over pale skin. Or the hiss of a shower faucet. Quickly, Anna put on earbuds. Randomly hitting shuffle on her playlist until it hit a Beyonce song.
Hypersonic, sex erotic
On my body, boy, you got it
Hit them 'draulics, while I ride it
Got me actin' hella thotty
So excited, so exotic
She slammed pause on the music and started her report with silent earbuds plugging out the sound of Elsa showering. Subject appeared in good spirits despite Alcohol Withdrawal symptoms. Her attempts at apologies and candor should be noted as possible attempts at manipulating her escort towards providing Alcohol. The blinking cursor on her report mocked her. Tightened knot in her chest refusing to untie itself. Squeezing to its breaking point when the scent of lavender hit her. Hair towelled dry and draping her shoulders in loose flowing tresses. The dress's soft contours like a waterful upon her generous curves. Cinched at the waist. A few breaths passed before Anna realised they were staring at each other wordlessly.
"Your turn now," Elsa muttered, "Or at least I assume you'd want a shower - there's only one bathroom in our living quarters."
Her breath held as she brushed past Elsa. Overlooking that Elsa set the shower knob to ice-cold and blasting herself with frigid water. She staggered back. Sudden deluge sending some much-needed clarity into her eyes. Elsa had flirted with her. Or attempted to. She stood under cold water for a good ten minutes and waited until that pool of warmth faded into numbness. Before putting on the most professional escort face she could muster and that dark pantsuit which showed she meant business.
She skipped through the explanation about her car and acceded to Elsa's idea of an automatic carriage powered by magic. Downtown Wheaton was just starting to come to life. Elsa stared out the passenger window at traffic and crisscrossing highways. Concrete and steel gleaming grey and silver in the morning light. Her nails dug into the car's seat as Anna swung the tiny hatchback across the path of a soccer mom's SUV. Swearing beneath her breath at the sudden honking.
"Apologies for my uncouth speech, city driving gets on my nerves sometimes."
The tension lifted once she'd parked at the mall. Elsa's chest swelled before she let out her breath in an audible exhale.
"I hope that wasn't too wild of a ride."
The blonde held back a pained smile, "Countless times I've ridden into cannonfire. The thick fog of war with all manner of death and savagery awaiting on the other end. I still count riding with you as one of my bravest feats."
"Oh c'mon, my driving can't be that bad!" Anna sniggered, liking the way Elsa blushed at her, "Listen - the mall's probably not that crowded on a weekday morning, but whatever happens, just stay with me and I'll look after you."
"You make it sound like some kind of terrifying experience."
"Remember Vesterveien in the Merchant Section of Arendelle? The mall will be something like that, just rows of shops crammed into one building."
"Well, yes. I've been there before but Kai and Gerda always did the purchasing for our household. I never had a reason to step into any of the shops."
"First time for everything," Anna added with a smile. The thought slipped her mind yet again. Opening the door for Elsa instead of teaching her to. What's the matter with you? You might as well offer your arm and walk her into JCPenny like you're helping a two hundred year-old elderly woman with Alzheimer's.
She kept a few paces behind Elsa. Observing the way her eyes widened at bright lights. Mall music wafting in the air. Fragrance of roasted coffee and cinnamon from Starbucks. They took a few pensive steps, but all Anna saw were the tight lines in Elsa's neck. Eyes darting to and from every gaze thrown her way.
"I'm here," Anna reassured her, "and if you're wondering why everyone's looking at you funny. Just tell yourself it's because you're hot."
"I don't feel that warm - in fact, the air appears colder indoors."
Anna bit back a chuckle. Before that intense glare came again and she struggled to piece together words.
"I meant, hot, as in," Anna paused, "it means you're beautiful."
Her eyes lifted. A visible scarlet tint spread across her cheeks and lifted the Queen's posture. Like she'd been handed a sword to take on the world. A single word had given her that courage. Knowledge that two hundred years hadn't aged her one bit and she was perceived as beautiful as she was timeless. She needn't say a single word about it. Anna could see it in the way she floated on air. Between the aisles of JCPenny as she gawked at modern clothing. Dresses and blouses and skirts. Anna dispensed another diatribe about the differences between 19th century artisanal clothing and mass-produced fast fashion from low-wage sweatshops. By the time she was done with her monologue and Elsa was done with her polite nodding. She'd picked out a few conservative dresses. Turned her nose up at jeans and hoodies and excitedly asked Anna to wait while she tried them on.
Barely five seconds after showing Elsa into the dressing room, her phone chimed with a call.
Anna rolled her eyes thinking it was Hans. Before Marie's face on the screen snagged her in the chest. Oh god, why couldn't it be Hans?
"Hey," Marie's voice pierced over the line. A thorn wrapped in silk. Poison in a glass of sweet milk. All too easy to lose her senses around. "You haven't been replying my messages."
"I didn't know I owed you any replies," Anna shot back, pressing a hand to her head. She turned a glance and walked further away from the dressing room.
"It'd be nice if you did - at least I'd know you still existed."
"Would me existing do you any good? Like, what would I change in your perfect life anyway? Another rose in your bouquet?"
"Anna, Anna - listen. You're more than this, I told you that."
"And I told you this Rose comes with thorns."
The perfect mic drop moment. She should hang up right here. But some part of Anna's self-esteem caved just enough not to hit end call and put this bitch where she belongs.
"I think we ended things on the wrong foot, alright? I don't want you to shut me out forever - we're still friends, aren't we? Your friends are my friends. We're bound to run into each other one day. Why make things difficult?"
That voice again. Soft like butter and smooth like honey. Like an orchestral conductor, Marie knew how to push her buttons. Though, as each one of Anna's wounds scabbed over with the passage of time - Marie resembled more a deaf Beethoven than a prime Mozart.
"Just putting this out there, Cavalier Bar. This weekend."
"You know that's not my scene anymore."
"It doesn't have to be Cavalier. Anywhere's fine. You, me, the girls. Just like old times?"
Anna had gotten so lost in her past that she missed Elsa strolling past. Already wearing the dress, pale slender calves exposed and all. She'd tossed the other dresses over her shoulder and started aimlessly browslng racks of clothes.
"Gotta go. Work," Anna finally mustered the bravado to hang up.
"Elsa!" Anna whisper-yelled, only to receive silence in reply. She darted between the aisles, looking for a tall, slender blonde. Eyes widening when she spotted her sauntering towards the lingerie section. "You can't wear the merchandise before paying!"
She made it there in time to see Elsa with a hand on her hip. One eyebrow cocked. Lacy pink bra dangling on a finger.
"Ah, yes. This. This is an, um, bra," Anna explained, cheeks blushing red, "corsets have run out of fashion in the 1900s and women wore these to keep their bosoms up."
"I suppose you're wearing one of these undergarments right now," Elsa drawled, sending another rush of blood beneath her cheeks, "and I'm expected to wear one."
"Well, most women do. And so do I," Anna wanted to bury her head in the sand, "you don't strictly have to wear one. But it'd help with your, um, figure. Not that you need much help with it, don't get me wrong. But it's just-"
"I would wear one if you'd help me navigate the sizes."
Anna caught a glimpse of her reflection in a mirror. Beet-red. From the look on Elsa's face, she was enjoying this very much indeed.
"Here," Anna snatched a plain white, 32C bra off the rack, "they're more complicated than trigonometry but I have an eye for these things."
"Do you?" Elsa snickered, before she turned her attention to the myriad of skimpy fabrics and pastel colours, "For what appears to be ladies' underthings, these look awfully fancy."
"They're not," Anna watched Elsa pick a few more sets, "but I guess they've learned that women appreciate pretty things, even if they're not meant to be seen. Do you-"
"Yes, I do," Elsa swiveled back, heat of her gaze resting upon Anna's burning face again, "I do like pretty things very much."
It'd taken a few minutes of explanation before the staff allowed them to leave with bags of clothes and a new cotton dress delicately cinched around Elsa's figure. The NSA's cover story didn't raise any queries. Elsa was Anna's older sister from rural Norway and hardly knew how to navigate the complexities of an American department store and tried on the clothes not knowing she had to pay first. A couple of swipes of an NSA-sponsored credit card silenced any further queries. Though Elsa had further questions when they'd offloaded their haul into the car and Anna's phone automatically connected to the stereo's bluetooth. She'd forgotten to turn it off before starting the engine.
Loud banging hiphop music. It wasn't even Beyonce. She wished it was Beyonce. Beyonce would be easier to explain than:
Ride-or-Die Bitch
Freak in the sheets
Lips I wanna kiss
Small ass big ti-
Anna turned down the volume and pulled out of the lot. That look on Elsa's face said it all - a million curious questions, of which Anna was prepared to answer none.
"What was that?" Elsa's voice rose.
"Um, why don't you, uh-" Anna focused on getting to the main road, "why don't you tell me what you think that was?"
"A man reciting poetry to the beat of some drums, but I've never heard of such words," Elsa reached for the volume knob, only to have her hand swatted away, "what on earth is a Ride-or-Die Bitch?"
Anna looked over. Elsa was dead serious. Air-quotes with both fingers. Ride-or-Die Bitch. Elsa repeated. A grin spread on Anna's face and she broke into a guffawing fit of laughter.
"What's so funny?" Elsa seethed, "I'm asking a serious question!"
"You, you, woah!" Anna nearly swerved into traffic, "You want me to explain what a Ride-or-Die Bitch is?"
"Well, yes, if you will. I'm merely attempting to understand how language works in your century," Elsa insisted, "What is this dog riding, exactly? And how does it bring about her death?"
It took a few seconds of heaving laughter and a skipped red light before Anna calmed sufficiently to sneak a word in.
"It means," Anna thought for a second, "a female companion who'd go to great lengths for you. Even to her death."
The explanation shut Elsa up. For a moment, she lapsed into one of her infinite pools of lost memories. Sinking to its depths in silence before Anna usually had to drag her out. This time, the Queen clawed out without assistance.
"Ride-or-Die," Elsa reminisced, "like how I rode the Royal Cavalry Battalion through Murat's Chasseurs when the Prussian centre was getting overrun. It was a simple choice between my own death or the death of our Coalition."
They hit the main highway. Anna swallowed her memory like a bitter pill.
"Yes," Anna flicked her head over, "a woman who sacrifices her own well-being for the safety of her loved ones. You did your duty for your country, even in the face of certain death. That makes you the baddest ride-or-die bitch I've known."
"Oh, stop with your flattery," Elsa swatted a hand at her, "I'm sure you have a few loved ones willing to lay down their lives for you."
"That's the thing, I thought I did. And I'd go to the ends of the earth for them," Anna fought back tears welling behind her eyes, "knowing they wouldn't do the same for me."