Archive of Our Own

It was a warm summer night, the kind of night best spent outdoors with someone you loved. Elsa was finding more and more that she enjoyed nights like this, if only because it let her spend more time with her sister. A year since she’d thought she’d killed her, and every moment was still precious to her.

The stars were especially bright tonight, as Anna dragged her out of the castle and through the city and into the hills beyond. Here, away from the lanterns and lights, the sky was even more magnificent. The Milky Way spread out above them like a river of light. Elsa’s gaze went to the stars farther afield, little pricks of light peering out from behind the veil of night.

Anna flopped out onto the ground and didn’t give Elsa a chance to react before she’d pulled her down with her. Elsa landed with a ‘foomph’ and had to spend a few moments disentangling herself from her skirts. Once she’d recovered, she shoved Anna playfully, before laying on her back.

Her hair was still tight in its braid, but Anna’s fanned out like a halo, and Elsa felt a momentary pang of jealousy at that kind of freedom.

Anna’s hand found her own. “Do you want to know what this reminds me of?”

“Sure.” Elsa pillowed her head under her other arm, one eye on the stars and the other on her sister’s face.

“Ships. Like … I used to look out the window when there’d be ships at sea and at night, their lights kind of looked like flickering stars.” Anna held her free hand up, as if trying to define which part of the sky was the sea and which part were the ships.

Elsa studied the celestial vista, a smile curving along her lips. “I think there’s a whole fleet up there. An armada even.”

“Could you imagine?” Anna couldn’t even hide the glee in her voice, “Sailing on a sea of stars? Visiting strange worlds and other moons and going where no one has ever gone before? What do you think a sky explorer might be like? Tall and dashing, maybe?”

“Short and excitable maybe. It sounds like you’ve imagined this a lot.” Astronomy, Elsa had learned, was one of Anna’s passions. And Anna had many passions. History, science, even math, though Elsa was much more learned in the latter. It was one of the things they had in common, thanks to their shared isolation. They’d read a lot of books, and had discovered some shared interests on accident.

She’d once listened to Anna describe how to navigate by the stars at sea, which was only fair since Elsa subjected her to a lecture on geometric shapes and structural safety.

“Maybe.” Anna turned her head to look at Elsa. “But I wouldn’t want to go without you. Bet you’d make a great ship’s captain.”

“I’m content enough being Queen.” Elsa squeezed her hand. “But you’re my home, Anna. No matter where we go or where we are or if we’re somehow separated again, you’ll always be home.”

Anna scooted closer, until they were shoulder to shoulder and she had her head leaning against Elsa’s. She said nothing, though, and Elsa was content to contemplate the cosmos in silence. If she was very still, and very silent, she could almost hear that voice inside her heart telling her that there was more out there to find than she was willing to accept.

It wasn’t quite a cloudless night, and the moon hung on the horizon like it was suspended in glass, but the vista was still pretty spectacular, if Anna did say so herself. In a way, she almost liked this better. There was an air of mystery to the sky and every time a cloud passed overhead, casting its shadow, the mystery only deepened.

She scooted closer to Kristoff, leaning her head against his shoulder but not taking her eyes off of the view above. An ache tightened in her chest; as often as she’d done this with Kristoff, she’d done so with Elsa too. Elsa, who was out there somewhere in the north doing God knew what that didn’t involve being near her family and okay okay, Anna understood but it still hurt and--

“I’ve always loved that constellation,” Kristoff said.

“Which one?”

He pointed it out, but it didn’t look like any constellation she’d ever seen. Definitely not one from any of her books or even the ones the Northuldra had taught her.

“Sorry, don’t see it.”

“No, no, follow my finger.” He started to trace it and if she squinted just so she could almost see it too.

“A … reindeer?”

“Yes! It’s my favorite because it reminds me of Sven, and my mom always told me it was special to the trolls, too, though now that I think about it I’m wondering if she was humoring me…”

“Probably humoring you,” Anna agreed. Sure, it was a little misshapen and the antlers looked like something she’d once scribbled on the castle walls when she was five but … yeah, it was Sven.

Kristoff laughed, dropping his hand so it landed above his head in the grass. He rolled his head to look at her, his voice suddenly quiet. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“What’s bothering you, which, if I know you well enough, is either the Lutefisk Festival or Elsa.”

She pouted before she could catch herself, and rolled onto her side to face him. “That obvious?”

“You kind of get a look on your face when you’re thinking. Or moping. Or mope-thinking.”

“Like, I know what happened happened for a reason. But … she’s still out there and not here, and we only had like three years together, you know? I guess I’m still trying to figure out what my life is supposed to be like without her being a constant presence.”

Kristoff leaned over, brushing the hair away from her face. “She’s, what, just up the fjord by Nokk? A few days at most by cart and less if you’re just riding a reindeer. And she comes by almost every week. Sometimes twice a week.”

“I know! I know. It still. Kind of feels weird. She’s out there doing spirity bridge stuff and I’m--”

“The beloved Queen of Arendelle,” Kristoff gently reminded her.

“And here I thought I was just going to be the spare,” Anna said, her voice catching. Technically, Elsa was the ‘spare’ now, should anything happen to Anna before she had any children. She'd made sure that had been a part of Elsa abdicating before they’d signed anything to make it official, “I don’t know how I can measure up to her. Is this … is this what it felt like for her? I caught her staring at our parents’ portrait a lot of times.”

“She probably looked to them for advice and support,” Kristoff said. “I mean, she had us, but your parents, they ruled Arendelle for thirty years.”

“Hard to get advice from ghosts. But … I have you, and I know Elsa would answer any questions I have even though I’m so not going to bother her that often.”

“I so can wait to be King.”

Anna laughed, rolling over and straddling him. “How am I doing, so far?”

“As Queen?” He rested his hands at her waist, grinning lopsidedly. “You don’t work yourself half to death the way Elsa did.”

She narrowed her eyes, nose scrunching. “Is that good or bad?”

“Just different. You have different styles. You’re more willing to give yourself breaks and delegate responsibility. Elsa was kind of a micro-manager if you think about it. It’s not that she didn’t trust anyone to do things, but I think she felt responsible for doing everything. She was so guilty about the eternal winter thing and the gates being shut for so long that she tried too hard to be everything to everyone.”

“And never tried to be herself until she heard the call…” Anna sniffled, and let out a long sigh.

“I know that hurts, baby. It’s okay to feel a little hurt, even though you’re happy for her.” He pressed his palm against the side of her face. “Pretty sure Elsa would understand.”

“You know, I didn’t drag you out here to talk about my sister.”

“Hey, you started it.”

She smiled, leaning down and kissing him. “I guess I did and … thanks Kristoff. I guess I needed to talk about it after all.”

He shrugged lightly. “That’s what I’m here for.”

“That, and some other things…” Anna kissed him again, and then a third time and a fourth and talking suddenly became the last thing on her mind.

Elsa sat cross-legged in the grass of the meadow, the Enchanted Forest at her back. The sky was mostly clear, a single cloud stubbornly hanging in front of the moon. On a night like this, back in Arendelle, Elsa would have found herself standing in front of a picture of her parents, or even the portrait of Aren, the first ruler of Arendelle, that hung in her mother’s now not-so-secret library. They could offer her no advice, of course, ghosts could not speak. But there’d been a kind of comfort in knowing there’d been people who’d come before her.

In the absence of portraits, Elsa could at least contemplate the sky. The stars could speak about as well as her parents, though she wondered what answers those intrepid voyagers of Anna’s imagination might have for her.

What was the point of living if one stopped asking questions?

“I’ll never get tired of this view.”

Elsa craned her head to look behind her as Honeymaren emerged from the woods. The woman walked with casual ease, her eyes on Elsa’s face. Elsa smiled at her, even as her mouth became a little dry and her heart beat a little faster. Every time she saw her she marveled at how pretty she was. “I thought gaping at the sky was your brother’s thing.”

She patted the ground next to her. Honeymaren hestited, then took a seat. “I’m just more quiet about it. But I think I like the night sky more, while he prefers the day.”

“Why is that?”

“I don’t know.” Honeymaren shrugged, “I guess I just like sparkly things.”

Elsa fell silent, pulling her legs up and hugging them, aware of Honeymaren’s eyes occasionally drifting in her direction. She swallowed, her own eyes fixed on a southern point, the star that pointed to Arendelle.

Honeymaren nudged her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Every once in awhile, I wonder if I’ve done the right thing, Maren” Elsa admitted. “Abdicating. Living up here, in your forest, to be closer to Ahtohallan but still … near people. I miss Anna every day, I itch to do things, to control everything around me even though I know I don’t need to.”

“This is your forest too and we’re your people just as much as Arendelle. You and your sister are daughters of both.” Maren wrapped her arms around her own legs, resting her chin on them and gazing at Elsa.

“I feel like an interloper.”

“Close your eyes.”

Elsa glanced at her, holding Maren’s gaze for a heartbeat too long, and then obeyed. “What--” She felt a finger on her lips and went silent.

“What do you hear?”

“The wind. The rustling of leaves and grass. Hooves somewhere in the distance.” It was much quieter than Arendelle had ever been. “It’s peaceful.”

“If you were an interloper, would it sound so peaceful?” Elsa could hear Maren’s breathing, too, and her presence was warm and comforting.

“I do feel welcomed,” Elsa admitted. She opened her eyes, smiling, “I just … is it allowed to have more than one place you feel at home? I do feel at home here, but Anna…”

“I get it. If I, for some crazy reason, ever found a place that wasn’t this forest, Ryder would still be my home too. A little bit.” She shrugged. “But I think your sister is much cooler than my brother.”

Elsa giggled so hard she snorted. “You realize that they’re both kind of dorks?”

“You said it, not me!” Maren replied, falling onto her back as she laughed.

Laying down next to her, Elsa folded her hands over her stomach, her attempts to be serene again interrupted by the occasional uncontrolled giggle because, honestly, she and Maren were just as dorky as their siblings. It seemed to make Maren laugh too, which only set Elsa off again.

She grinned as she stared up at the sky; yes, she’d done the right thing, and she really should stop second guessing herself. “I hope she’s somewhere out there tonight, watching the same stars we are.”

“I’m sure she is.” Maren flopped her hand over onto Elsa’s stomach, palm up and attempted some kind of reassuring pat.

It worked, Elsa taking her hand and threading their fingers together to hold it against her chest. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Maren replied, voice faint.

Elsa shifted, until she could lean her head against Maren’s shoulder. With the hand that wasn’t gripping Maren’s, she pointed. “So what do you call that constellation?”

"Which? The reindeer?"