Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

sillage (noun) /sēˈäZH/ the scent that lingers in the air, the trail left in the water, the impression made in space after someone or something has been and gone, the trace of someone’s perfume

Adgar was a good man, or at least he tried to be. He worked hard, always tried to be selfless, and loved his wife, Idunn, with all his heart. They hadn’t married young, despite meeting in college. No, they’d dated for years and then been engaged for a few years and when they finally married, everything seemed even better than before.

A year later, and he’d become a father. A good father, he liked to think. Their daughter, Elsa, was the child they’d always talked about having. He and Idunn did their best to fairly split the less-pleasant child-rearing duties and their relationship felt as strong as ever.

And then...? Adgar wasn’t sure. They were just too perfect for too long and suddenly he couldn’t stand it anymore and, from what he could tell, neither could Idunn. They were both so perfectly matched to their jobs and they were both on all the right fast tracks and their daughter was perfectly on-track or reasonably ahead of all her week-by-week development markers and as much as he adored her, he couldn’t stand how completely predictable his life had become.

So he did something completely unpredictable.

At least, it felt that way at the time, but as hindsight yellowed the photos and soured his memories, Adgar only grew more embarrassed at the even more predictable path his life took, following his difficulties with Idunn.

After all, what could be more expected than a man fleeing his marital problems through an affair?

And yet, in so many ways, it had all felt so different. Yes, he’d been going out to bars, but he’d met her at a library. Instead of going out for dinner, the two of them would meet at lectures at the history museum. They had picnics and drank wine on the roof of her apartment building. One day she showed up to meet him with her red hair tied up in a ponytail and informed him that they were going on a proper walk that day.

She’d been fun, vibrant, and carefree, so unconcerned with her image or career concerns that, for a few weeks, Adgar couldn’t help but wonder if the life she lived was within reach, if he could maybe live without the constant burden of responsibility.

So naturally, it was fleeing responsibility that he found himself saddled with even more of it.

When she became pregnant, he broke off the affair, came clean to Idunn, and pushed through all the obstacles he’d placed in between himself and being that good man he was supposed to be. He fixed everything up with Idunn, they went to couples therapy, and they solidified their marriage from the scraps they’d made of it.

When his child was born, a little girl that she had named Anna, he made sure to take responsibility, as best he knew how. His job paid well, so he set up a handsome dividend, well above minimum child support payments, to offset the costs of raising Anna. Idunn made a few well-placed calls help set up a good job and Adgar wrote an extra check to offset moving expenses.

At six months old, Anna and her mother relocated to Nashville. Adgar and Idunn settled into a routine as they continued to raise Elsa into a respectable girl. He and Idunn had their disagreements, as any couple does, but, on the whole, their lives’ directions and goals aligned well since they’d relaxed after that terrible fight.

Nothing was perfect, but at least life was good. Predictability became dependability and surely that, if nothing else, meant happily ever after?

Chapter Text

The Sommersets were a good family. Elsa was eight, but she knew that much. She knew that her father had a good job, and sometimes he had to travel. She knew that her mother had a good job, but was always supportive when father had to travel.

But something about the April trip did something to turn them into a not-good family. It was some sort of conference in Nashville that he attended every year, but it was different from every other business trip because it turned Elsa’s parents, who were normally quite mild, into the angry, yelling people she saw on some TV shows.

Normally, Elsa and her mother went through a standard routine every time a business trip came around: They always packed a small bag with some healthy treats, they always had mashed potatoes and steak for the last dinner before he left (plus cookies & cream ice cream for dessert), and they always made sure to wish him a warm goodbye together.

For the April trip, however, there were no treats, the traditional dinner was eaten in icy silence, dessert skipped, and the goodbye botched. Elsa’s mother would hug him stiffly and then tell Elsa to stay inside while she followed him out to the car. Even through the door, Elsa could always hear them yelling.

Then the April trip would be over, father would come home, and they’d pretend everything was normal and Elsa Sommerset would resume life as usual, save for the nagging feeling that something about April was just... off.

And yes she was eight and knew what rules were and why she was to follow them. Sometimes she messed up or broke a rule without thinking and, no matter how her parents asked her to ‘think about what she’d done’ Elsa had nothing to say. Sometimes she just did stuff and she couldn’t tell them why.

Sometimes, however, she would break a rule very much on purpose. Elsa understood enough from what her parents discussed at the dinner table to know that sort of rulebreaking fell under the category called, ‘premeditated’ at her mother’s work.

The entire almost-week her father was gone, Elsa had been planning a way to figure out why her mom was always mad when he left, but stopped when he got back. She wasn’t exactly sure what she was gonna do, but she knew it involved sneaking (discovering secrets always did) into her parents’ office. It had to be the office because that was the only room in which she was not permitted to wander. If evidence of whatever was weird about April was anywhere else in the house, Elsa would have noticed it earlier.

So the day after her father got back, Elsa waited until he was relaxing and watching a game and her mother had gone out on an errand. Once they were occupied, she struck, bringing along one of her Nancy Drew books just in case they caught her. The plan was to claim she’d gone into the office to read.

Once inside the pristine room, Elsa started searching for the clues that would lead her to the answer. Unfortunately, nothing seemed to have been left out for her to quickly discover. Her father’s desk was clean and a quick survey of his briefcase only revealed papers for his business. His desk drawers only had office supplies in them, and after playing with some snowflake paperclips for a minute, she quickly found herself bored.

Elsa swiveled around in her father’s chair for a few minutes, feeling vaguely betrayed by Scooby Doo. She was debating actually reading her Nancy Drew book when she re-noticed the filing cabinet in the corner and hopped off the chair.

She was only just tall enough to see into the middle drawer so Elsa decided to start with the lowest one. She pulled open the drawer and promptly sighed. She hadn’t expected to find, anything inordinately shocking, but it was almost too predictable: a full drawer with perfectly labelled folders that read “Tax Info.” and the year. Not worth skimming even if the folders had ancient treasure maps.

Just to be sure though, Elsa made sure to read all the labels. All the years were in order. There were no secrets codes to crack or number patterns to decipher. She was about to close the drawer when she realized that the last folder didn’t have a label. It was shoved so far back that she’d almost missed it.

Plucking it from the back of the cabinet, Elsa noticed that it felt uneven and bulky. She sat down next to the filing cabinet and opened the folder.

Inside was a small stack of cards, most of them in decorated construction paper. Elsa tilted her head and picked up the top one on the stack. It was green, with a drawing of a cake in purple crayon. The spelling was a little bad, but it read, “Reverse Birthday Card,” also in purple.

Opening the card revealed more clumsy crayon writing. Elsa guessed the writer to be three years younger, based on their penmanship and spelling, which were both atrocious.

“April 2

Dear Adgar thank you for visiting for my birthday. every year i like that and you bring good presents. Please don’t stop see you next year love anna

PS can i call you dad?”

Chapter Text

“PS can i call you dad?”

Elsa’s eyes narrowed at the final line. There was only one explanation, really, instead of thinking about that, she quickly set aside the first card and seized the next one, then the one after, flipping through the stack and reading the cards as quickly as possible. Each one was dated with the second day of April and labelled, no matter the strange decorations on the front, as a “Reverse Birthday Card.”

The interiors were all addressed to Adgar, Elsa’s father. None of them after the first made mention of him being Anna’s dad, but they all had the same tone. Thankfully, the handwriting and spelling improved over time. Though the cards weren’t marked with years, by the time Elsa reached the last one in the stack, she knew that it must be the most recent.

The front here was done in a neater script, and in marker, which showed up clearer. “Reverse Birthday Card” was written alongside pictures of party hats, and Elsa noted that the polkadots on the party hats were done in a different color. Compared to the others, this card was especially neat.

Inside, the writing was also done in marker, with a different color for each line to make it look like a rainbow:

“April 2nd

Dear Adgar,

Thank you very very much for coming to my seventh birthday party. I hope you come again next year. I tried to bake brownies for the party with mommy this year and it didn’t work out. I accidentally used vinegar instead of veggie oil. We threw those out and bought some from the store, but I promise next year I’ll practice and maybe make the cake. It’ll be chocolate, since I know you like that.

Thank you for the horseback riding lessons. I’ll ask mommy to tell you how I do at them. Maybe you can come to my first competition.

Love,

Anna Wintergale”

Elsa re-read the card, which seemed more real than the others. If Anna had just had her seventh birthday, that meant that she would only be a grade or two behind Elsa at school. She was the same age as someone Elsa would play with at recess, or someone she saw at lunch. And this Anna was apparently, somehow, impossibly, Elsa’s sister!

It seemed absolutely impossible that Elsa had a sister, and not a baby sister like some of her friends had, but a sister who could play and talk and braid her hair, and yet Elsa didn’t know her at all.

In frustration, Elsa tossed the card back down on the floor. It landed facedown, and she noticed there was additional writing on the back.

Eyes wide, Elsa grabbed the card back off the floor.

“PS. I know sometimes Mommy can drive us somewhere, but not know the address. I know you can get to our house for my birthday, but here is the address just in case. Now you can write if you want!”

Below that was an address in Nashville, TN. Elsa was trying to remember what states started with a ‘T’ when she heard her father moving around downstairs. Quickly, she stuffed the last letter in her Nancy Drew book, then put all the other cards back in the file before shoving the file back into the cabinet. She almost kicked it shut before remembering that would make noise and closing it gently.

By the time her father came upstairs to get a snack from the kitchen, Elsa was sitting on the window seat in the alcove, reading about Nancy heading to a seance in New Orleans so she could help a widow. When her father asked if the book was good, Elsa could tell him, truthfully, that it was. He didn’t notice the construction paper corners sticking out of the book’s pages, and so he didn’t ask about them.

When he’d returned downstairs, however, Elsa immediately returned to the office. This time, she knew exactly what she was looking for. She’d seen stamps and envelopes in one of his desk drawers earlier, and she went for those immediately, taking an unused sheet of stamps and a handful of envelopes.

Sliding them into her book, she slunk upstairs to her room and hid her contraband underneath a stack of old coloring books on her desk. Tearing a neatly perforated page out of a spiral notebook, Elsa began to write with her favorite blue gel pen.

“April 9th

Dear Anna,

Please don’t be shocked. You were probably expecting a letter from Adgar Sommerset, and I hope you’re not too disappointed. My name is Elsa Sommerset and I found the cards you gave to my dad. Since you called him dad, I think that means we’re sisters.”

Elsa paused, unsure how to continue. This was exactly like something out of her books, but normally the people discovering their long-lost siblings were a bit older and had to go on some sort of epic adventure in order to find the truth. Elsa wasn’t certain how to handle the subject in a letter. What if Anna didn’t care for a sister?

Her cheeks felt warm. What if Anna had, unlike Elsa, already known she had a sister and didn’t care. Since Anna was younger, Elsa would feel stupid if she were the last to find out. She took a deep breath and kept on writing.

“I don’t know if you knew about me already, but I just want you to know that I would like to know more about you. What is your favorite color? Favorite candy? What’s the name of the horse you ride? Do you like to ice skate? Please don’t be mad that I wrote you. I just want to know you, since you’re my sister.”

Elsa paused.

“I hope you will write me back. You sound like a really fun person and I would like to be friends.

Love,

Elsa Sommerset”

Perhaps there was something odd about loving Anna already, before Elsa had even met her, but Elsa didn’t question the way she’d phrased her signature. And certainly, if she didn’t love Anna already, surely she would in the future.

Before her mother was home, Elsa had addressed the envelope, stamped it, placed her letter inside, and sealed it. The next day, she dropped it in the mailbox and turned the flag up on her way to the bus stop with neither of her parents any the wiser.

Chapter Text

Elsa copied Anna Wintergale’s address down onto another envelope later that week before sneaking back into the office to return Anna’s card to the filing cabinet after school, before her mother got home.

Pulling out the file, however, she found herself struck with a reluctance to leave the object behind. The cards were all obviously decorated with care, but they didn’t sit out on her father’s desk or even in a more accessible drawer. They were hidden behind taxes, of all things, and something about it made Elsa angry.

She knew she couldn’t keep a card, but she wanted something physical, some token to represent Anna, so that at least one person in the Sommerset family was thinking of her in the house.

Spreading the cards out on the floor, she spotted one from the middle of the stack. Anna had glued over two dozen buttons to the front of the card to represent bowling balls. The message inside mentioned a bowling alley party. Elsa dragged her fingers over the buttons, tugging just slightly, looking for a loose one. Even if he looked over all the cards, surely he wouldn’t miss a single button.

But Elsa didn’t think her father looked at the cards often and that just made her angrier, so she pressed a little harder against the card.

Her pinky caught a button at the edge and it came loose with a pop, rolling across the hardwood floor until Elsa lunged and caught it. Cradling it in her hand, she marveled at her treasure, light green button with two holes and a blue border that caught the light when Elsa held it up to the window.

Stowing it in her pocket, Elsa put all the cards back in the folder as neatly as possible, then returned it to it’s spot behind the tax folders.

On a whim, she poked through a few, just to verify that they weren’t hiding any treasure maps, but all she saw were copies of check and papers with small text.

Her mother came home right as Elsa slipped out the office doors, and she had to sneak around to the kitchen as silently as possible to pretend that she was just getting her after-school snack. As she ate an apple (honeycrisp, her favorite!) Elsa kept her other hand in her pocket, turning the button over and over in her hand as she wondered if Anna would reply and how long she would have to wait.

*

Elsa skipped inside the house. “Mom!” she called, “I brought in the mail!”

Her mother’s chair made a disgruntled noise from the office; a few seconds later, Elsa’s mother appeared in the doorway. “Oh, you did?” She smiled. “Thank you Elsa, it’s nice that you don’t need to be reminded so much anymore.”

“You’re welcome.” Elsa grinned. “Just trying to help out a little more. I’ll be nine soon, after all.” She waved the pile of mail in her hand. “I’ll just leave this at the end of the kitchen counter for you.”

“Thanks, Elsa,” her mother called.

Elsa flashed her a smile as she dashed past, running up the stairs two at a time to her room, where she pulled out the singular letter addressed to Elsa Sommerset from where she’d hidden it under her shirt.

Her heart raced as she read over the familiar handwriting she’d seen in the letters. Anna had used the same markers as in her most recent card, using a different color for each letter of Elsa’s name to make a rainbow. In the top left corner of the envelope, Elsa re-read the name ‘Anna Wintergale’, almost afraid to open it. The envelope could contain nothing, or exactly the letter she hoped for, or anything at all.

Elsa took the letter opener from her desk (a gift from when her cousin went to Paris) and carefully opened the envelope. She pulled out a sheet of paper and set the envelope and letter opener aside to read. The text was in pencil, this time, and had several eraser marks across the page.

“April 14th

Dear, Elsa!

I didn’t actually think I’d get any letters period! He never writes. I didn’t know Adgar had another daughter. Mom said he was married. Is she your mom, or does he just visit you sometimes. He visits every birthday and sometimes for special occasions, like my kindergarten graduation. This year for my birthday he bought me a year of horse riding lessons. I hope he’ll come to my competitions.

Do you do sports? I wanna know about you too! My favorite color is green or pink and I love taffy. I started lessons yesterday and my horse is Butterscotch. I can’t skate, you?

Don’t worry. I’m not mad.

I love you too now,

Anna Wintergale”

Elsa smiled at the loops of Anna’s signature and how she dotted her eyes with hearts. Unconsciously, her hand found the button in her pocket and she turned it over in her hand, circling the ridge around the edge with her thumb. After a moment, she grabbed a notebook and her favorite gel pen. She had a letter to write.

Chapter Text

Every day, Elsa ran home from the bus, backpack bouncing on her shoulders, to make it to the mailbox faser. She would seize the mail, rifling through the content, and then proceed in one of two ways: If a letter from Anna Wintergale appeared in the mailbox, Elsa would dash inside the house, leave the rest of the mail on the counter, and hide the letter in her room with her growing stash of Anna-related paraphernalia between her coloring books.

It took all of Elsa’s self-control not to read the letters the very moment they were in her hands, but, aside from the first one, Elsa managed. At dinner that evening, her mother had asked her why she’d skipped her snack and why she hadn’t brought her homework downstairs to do at the kitchen table.

Whenever someone was trying to keep secrets, they always did their best to pretend everything was normal. Elsa had read more than enough books to be certain of that, and with the blessing of all the secret-keepers who’d come before her, Elsa continued their traditions.

So she made everything look normal, even when she didn’t have a letter from Anna, running upstairs to her room for a moment, this time just dropping off her backpack instead of a letter. Then she’d go downstairs and eat her snack.

The routine continued without a hitch as the weeks went on. Elsa would read the letters after dinner, when her parents normally watched their show of the night on TV. She would immediately turn around and write another letter in reply, dropping it off in the morning on her way to the bus stop. If her parents had any mail to send, her father was always the one to drop it off on his way to work, and he always left before her. Elsa had never before realized how dependable her parents were until their habits became important to her, but she came to relish it as she wrote to her penpal and learned wonderful things.

TN was the state abbreviation for Tennessee, which Elsa didn’t know how to spell until she read it one of Anna’s letters. Anna had red hair and green-blue eyes. She had freckles, but didn’t like them because her mom didn’t have freckles. Her horseback riding was going well, but Anna was so amused by her instructor’s strong Scottish accent that she sometimes didn’t pay attention. Anna’s mother also had red hair, and was not married. She dated sometimes, but never for too long.

Unlike Elsa, Anna loved to swim, and her mother took her to the pool all the time, even in winter. (After Elsa’s letter expressing great concern, Anna clarified that, in the winter, they went to indoor pools, not outdoor ones).

After a few weeks of letter-sending, they started to run out of facts to exchange. Elsa didn’t think rambling about figure skating terms would be very interesting for Anna, and she honestly didn’t have much curiosity about the horseback riding vocabulary she’d likely receive in return.

So, eventually, Elsa found herself opening up. Frankly, she hadn’t known there was much to open up about. She liked school (especially art) and she liked her friends. She liked her parents and she liked their home. They went on nice vacations and Elsa’s parents let her stay up late to watch the figure skating olympics the previous year.

But, sitting down in front of her desk to write a letter, Elsa found herself writing about how she felt... stressed? No, that was a word for old people with jobs they hated. Elsa was eight and everyone said that kids got to have carefree lives. There was some other word, Elsa was sure of it, that described the rolling tension and fear that welled up inside her sometimes with some sort of anticipation.

And it wasn’t the good anticipation, the kind that she felt about waiting for Anna’s letters. It was the kind that made her worry about everything she liked just up and breaking.

What if the next subject in school wound up being too hard and all the teachers started hating her because suddenly Elsa Sommerset didn’t “just get” it the way she usually did. What if she broke her ankle and had to stop skating? What if everyone realized she was some sort of faker and stopped liking her?

Sitting at her desk, Elsa realized her breathing had sped up and her eyes darted around her room, waiting for that first sign that something inside her was about to shatter. She anticipated it the same way she anticipated Anna’s letters, as something that would arrive soon but she didn’t exactly know when. Then everyone would know she was a failure. The pain that tightened in her chest felt like confirmation of the inevitable.

But she couldn’t tell anyone, not even her parents, because Elsa was absolutely certain that would bring everything crashing down sooner. Everybody felt... anxiety! That was the word! Everybody felt it, but Elsa didn’t see anybody else handling it this badly.

That just made her feel like even more of a failure.

She took a deep breath and stopped looking around the room. Her letter to Anna only had the date on it. Despite her anxiety, Elsa smiled. Being reminded of Anna Wintergale and their letters made her happy.

Without thinking too much about it, Elsa started writing down everything about her anxiety to send to Anna. Even if Anna thought that Elsa was some crazy loser, she couldn’t think it in person. And maybe, just maybe, Anna could tell her something comforting or make it better somehow. Just by existing and sending letters about her favorite colors, she’d already helped some, Elsa realized. The afternoons when she received Anna’s letters were almost always the best part of the week.

This letter was over twice as long as usual, and Elsa wound up having to tear out another sheet of paper from her notebook. By time she was done, she was actually impressed with herself. Even in school, she’d never written something this long.

Hopefully Anna didn’t get bored halfway through.

Elsa took another deep breath at the thought and then studiously ignored it. Anna wouldn’t get bored and Anna would totally understand and be kind about it.

Maintaining that mindset, she addressed the envelope (from memory by now) with Anna’s address and planted a kiss on the envelope as she sealed it.

Chapter Text

Elsa worked studiously to keep her mind off The Anxiety Problem for the rest of the week. For some reason, circling her thumb around the button (keeping both in her pocket) gave her a sense of calmness, so the started taking it to school. She was careful to keep it from falling out of her pocket, but worried it would get lost in the laundry if she forgot to take it out when she got home.

Anna’s letters normally reached her about five days after she sent hers. As a week passed by without a bringing her a letter, Elsa grew worried and slept with the button in her hand that night, remembering how Anna described her favorite shade of green. Elsa was pretty sure the green on the button was close to that color.

The next day, Elsa actually shouted “YES!” when she checked the mail and found a letter from Anna. As she hurried through her normal routine, Elsa found herself unable to leave the letter unopened in her room until the evening.

“Just a peek,” she whispered, ripping open the envelope and pulling out the letter. “The first sentence only.”

“May 20

Dear Elsa,

I love you and it’s gonna be okay. It—”

Elsa shut her eyes, folded the letter closed, and took a deep breath. Just one sentence, and she’d meant it. She was only almost nine, but if there was one thing Elsa was good at, it was doing what she told herself she’d do, even when it was hard.

Before going downstairs to a completely normal snack, Elsa put the letter with the others and squeezed the button in her pocket. Still, energy hummed through her as she ate her apple. All through the evening, she kept turning the words over and over in her head.

Dear Elsa, I love you and it’s gonna be okay.

Of all the letters to delay reading, this was the hardest. Over dinner, her father asked her what she was thinking of, and Elsa made up being excited about the topographical map her class was doing for history.

And yeah she was actually kind of looking forward to that one, but nothing like the letter.

When her parents went to the basement to watch their show, Elsa took the stairs two at a time to her room, grabbing the doorframe as she rounded the corner into her room. In the space of a moment, she’d plucked the letter from its hiding place, turned on her bedside table lamp, and vaulted onto her bottom bunk to read.

“May 20

Dear Elsa,

I love you and it’s gonna be okay. It must have been hard to write what you did. I think you’re really really brave.

I don’t think that’s how everyone is though, because I don’t have feelings like that. But that just means you’re different. I hope that you don’t worry too much, but I found something just in case you do! It’s taped to the back of the letter.”

Elsa blinked and stopped reading. She hadn’t noticed anything, but she’d also been rather focused earlier and hadn’t been looking for anything. She turned the letter over; a small, flat stone was taped to the back with about twenty strips of tape. Putting off the problem of how she would extract the pebble without ripping the paper, Elsa turned the letter back over to read.

“My mom calls them worry stones. It took so long to send this letter because I had to go find just the right one for you. The way it works is you hold it in your hand and rub your thumb along the dented part in the middle when you’re worried. Mom says it helps when people are anxious.

I didn’t know if you’d seen one, so I picked one for you since I know what they look like! Your birthday isn’t ‘til June, but nobody minds early presents!

I hope this helps. I’m sorry you’re so anxious. When we meet, I will give you a big hug.

I love you, don’t forget!

Anna Wintergale

P.S. I still love you!

P.P.S. I also still love you down here!

P.P.P.S. Also here!”

Elsa smiled. The letter continued that way all down the rest of the page, until Anna ran out of room.

“Dork,” Elsa whispered.

Flipping the letter over, Elsa debated how to remove the stone. Anna had secured it rather too well onto the back of the letter, and Elsa didn’t want to rip it.

Ten minutes, a pair of scissors, and one mumbled bad word (she’d overheard her father say it) later, Elsa had extracted the worry stone. Unfortunately, the letter had been completely mangled in the process and was barely legible.

She had a sense that Anna wouldn’t mind, however, and while Elsa felt frustrated, she also had plenty of letters from Anna. She put this one in the trash, then went back to her bed to marvel at the stone. It was perfectly smooth and mostly flat on one side, save for a little dip that fit her thumb nicely. The other side was a bit rounder and sat well against her fingers. Upon closer inspection, Elsa noticed that Anna had drawn a heart on the rounder side in permanent marker, which made her smile.

Experimentally, Elsa held the stone in one hand, pressing her thumb into the dip. It felt right and cool against her fingers. Starting to rub her thumb back and forth, Elsa closed her eyes and smiled. Something about the motion was soothing.

She pulled the button out of her pocket. She loved it, but the worry stone was much less likely to jump out of her pocket during school. The blue border caught the light from her lamp before Elsa opened her bedside table drawer to set the button inside. This way it would be close, but she wasn’t in danger of losing it.

It wasn’t until she was falling asleep that night that Elsa wondered how many stones Anna had gone through, looking for the perfect one, for her letter to come three days late.

Chapter Text

Elsa bounded up to the mailbox and opened it. She blinked. Never, whenever she’d gotten the mail, had it ever been empty. Even if there was just a bill or some sales flyer, she’d always had something to carry inside.

The hair stood up on the back of her neck. She was supposed to receive her reply from Anna. It had been five days.

Her hand shot into her pocket to seize the worry stone. She rubbed her thumb against it furiously as she walked inside the house. Sometimes letters came late, Anna’s last one had been three days tardy. Still, she felt on edge as she slipped off her shoes in the front hall.

“Mom, I’m home,” she called, “No mail today.”

There was an over-long pause, and Elsa briefly wondered if her mother had gone on an errand.

Then the reply came. “Welcome home, Elsa.”

She blinked. Her mother worked from their home office, and was invariably there when Elsa got home (unless she was out of the house entirely). But the reply had come from the living room.

Elsa tried to shake off the feeling that everything was about to fall apart. She felt it so often, it was just another anxiety. She was halfway up the stairs when her mother called again.

“Elsa leave your bag downstairs. Come here please.”

Something about her voice was strained. It sounded unnatural.

“Um, okay,” Elsa called back, going back downstairs and dropping her backpack by the front hall. She resisted the urge to walk slowly.

Tingles shot through her skin as she saw a pile of mail spread out on the coffee table. Sitting forward on the couch, Elsa’s mother had her hair down (also unusual) and was leaning her elbows on her knees. Elsa couldn’t see her face.

“Oh,” She said, trying to sound casual, “did you get the mail today?”

A pause. “I was expecting something for my work,” her mother replied. “I went to get it when I saw the mail truck pass through the window.”

Elsa’s eyes flashed through the pile on the coffee table until she saw it: the opened letter sitting on top of a torn-open envelope. She could see Anna’s loopy, clumsy signature, and the heart she’d dotted over the ‘i’ in ‘Wintergale.’

And everything was wrong wrong wrong, ruined, a disaster. But, as she sat down on the other couch, there was only one thing she could say:

“Is something wrong?”

Elsa’s mother looked up from the pile of mail and met her gaze. Never before had Elsa noticed just how deeply the lines cut in her mother’s forehead. “I found the other letters, Elsa, after I found this one.”

Turning her focus back to the table, Elsa scanned the pile again and realized that, under today’s mail, she could see opened envelopes with familiar stamps. In the corner, Anna Wintergale’s name and return address peeked out.

And suddenly her fear sharpened into cold anger. “Why were you in my room?” she snapped. “Who said you could go through my stuff?”

“I found this letter when I got the mail and, after reading it, I went through your room looking for more,” her mother replied, equally harsh. “And I am your mother, and I do not need your permission to look through your room for... for dangers to you!”

Elsa jumped up. “Writing letters to my sister isn’t dangerous! You had no right to take those, or to read them. They’re mine!”

Elsa reached for them, but her mother’s hand came down on top of the pile before she could grab one. “She is not your sister,” her mother said.

“Yes Anna is!”

“No, Elsa, she is not.”

Starting to feel stupid and small, Elsa sat back down. “If Anna is dad’s kid, that makes her my sister!”

Taking a deep breath, her mother removed her hand from the pile and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “She may be a product of your father’s indiscretion, but doesn’t make her your sister, Elsa. You two have never met, and you didn’t know she existed until, it would seem, this past April. Family is more than just blood, Elsa.”

Rolling her eyes, Elsa scoffed, “Well if she’s not my sister, who is she?”

“Nobody,” came the reply. “At least to you. You two were never meant to know one another.”

“Why not? What would have been so bad about it?!” Elsa was on her feet again, yelling before she even realized it.

“Your father,” and something about the second word was biting, “will explain when he gets home, which should be soon. I called and he already left the office.” Elsa’s mother took a deep breath. She didn’t seem angry anymore, just disappointed, which Elsa always hated worse. “For now, Elsa, consider yourself grounded until the end of June.”

“But...” Elsa blinked, feeling tears well up. “But my birthday is next week.”

“Grounded for the rest of the month. We will discuss what this means when your father gets home.”

Tears started rolling down her cheeks. “What was so wrong about writing her?”

Her mother collected the mail into her hands and stood up. “Go to your room, Elsa. I will call you down when your father gets home.”

Before her mother finished the sentence, Elsa was already running to the stairs. She took them two at a time, slipping on the last one in her socks. She felt her knees smart with rugburn, but ignored it as she hurtled into her room and slammed the door shut, locking it behind her. She knew her parents could open it, but the gesture felt good.

Her mother was a neat person, but signs of a search lay all over Elsa’s room. The coloring books had been rifled through and moved to the floor. Across her desk, various things had been moved around. Even the books on her bookcase looked rearranged, as though they’d been plucked off and flipped through for errant scraps of paper.

As Elsa saw the drawer of her bedside table partially open, she rushed over to it, combing through until her fingers seized the button. Tears flowed faster and Elsa choked back sobs as she gripped it in her hand, pulling the worry stone out of her pocket to hold them together, the last two pieces she had left.

She’d been terrified, for just a moment, that her mother had taken the stupid little button, but of course she hadn’t. Nobody but Elsa knew that the plastic green button with the light-catching blue border and two holes in the middle had anything at all to do with Anna Wintergale.

If you’d asked Anna herself, she probably wouldn’t even recognize it.

Of course, Elsa thought, she’d probably never get to ever ask Anna, ever again ever.

Sobs overtook her as she realized she would never get to read that last letter. She hadn’t even known it would be the last one.

And then the crying pulled back and Elsa blinked before rushing over to her room’s small wastebasket. She’d thrown out a few pieces of paper there from homework, but, underneath all that, she found the mangled remains of the last letter she’d read from Anna.

Removing the tape had ripped most of it apart, but the pieces were still stuck to the bits of tape in the trash.

Gritting her teeth, Elsa started putting it back together as best she could.

By the time she heard her father calling her downstairs, the letter was far from perfect, a cobbled-together mess that was (still) mostly illegible. She’d gone through half her roll of tape to resurrect it, but by the time she was done, she could (sort of) fold it back up and put it in the envelope.

Looking for a quick hiding place, she cast her eyes around for a solution before sticking it in one of her Narnia books. If her mother had just gone through the whole bookcase, she was unlikely to do it again, at least not immediately.

“Elsa!” came the call again, sterner this time.

She unlocked the door and called back down, “I’m coming!”

As she walked down the stairs, she thought of the repaired letter. Despite all the rips, the first sentence had remained perfectly legible.

“Dear Elsa,

I love you and it’s gonna be okay.”

Rubbing her thumb against the stone in her pocket, Elsa repeated it to herself and tried to brace herself for whatever was coming.

Chapter Text

Elsa came downstairs to find that the table was already set for dinner. Her mother was sitting in her usual chair and her father was just sitting down in his. A healthy pile of spaghetti and meatballs was plopped on Elsa’s plate. She blinked. Dinner was a little earlier than usual, but apparently she’d been in her room longer than she’d thought.

“Grab a seat, Elsa,” her mother said.

Despite the utter normalcy of the situation, a weeknight spaghetti dinner, the tension in the air made it feel like a parody (she’d learned what that was in class earlier that week) of their usual lives. Though her father had already taken off his suit jacket and tie, he still looked stiff.

“We’d like to speak with you over dinner,” her father said, starting to twirl his spaghetti, “because this is a completely normal conversation. Frankly, we should have spoken to you about this years ago.”

After finishing a bit, her mother added, “But first, we want you to know that we love you, Elsa. Some of our decisions may not make sense at your age, but please know that we have only ever acted in your best interests.” A smile, gentle and familiar. “We don’t have any other horse in this race.”

Elsa moodily spun her spaghetti around her plate. “Yeah, well maybe you should.”

She didn’t need to look up to know her mother’s eyebrows had drawn together. “Pardon?” came the response.

Elsa finished chewing her bite before answering, refusing to give them the chance to cut her off for bad manners. “Maybe you should have another horse in the race. Maybe you should care about Anna Wintergale, who is my sister!” She’d meant to sound calm, because calm meant adults listened, but she hadn’t been able to stop her voice rising at the end. She was just so angry that tears pricked at the corner of her eyes, threatening to start her sobs over again.

He father took a deep breath. “We should have spoken to you years ago, but we’ve never hidden from you that we’re human; we make mistakes.” His voice was solid, but strained. Elsa met his eyes angrily. “Perhaps this was one of them, and we will explain to you what happened,” he continued. “But there are two points on which we will be firm, Elsa: She is not your sister and you are not to communicate with her ever again.”

Her jaw felt sore as she mashed the food in her mouth, swallowing forcefully. Elsa raised her hand as she opened her mouth to speak, but her mother started talking first. “Perhaps the rules will seem more reasonable if we explain first, Elsa,” she said. “Please wait until we’re finished before you protest our guidelines.”

And because she knew her parents would be absolutely unmovable unless she listened to them first, Elsa grumbled, “Fine,” and returned to her meal, idly wondering for a moment if she would ever be able to like spaghetti again.

“This all started not long after you were born,” her father began. “Your mother and I loved one another very much, and we were so happy to have finally started a family together, but we had some conflicts.”

He took a breath, but it was Elsa’s mother who continued, “Sometimes adults just have adult differences, and they need a little time to get things back together. Eventually, your father and I worked through things, but not before he became involved with another woman.” She cleared her throat. “After realizing she’d become pregnant, he immediately informed me and we took joint action to ensure that everything came out for the best.”

Elsa scowled and wanted to point out that never knowing she had a sister wasn’t what she’d call ‘the best,’ but her father noticed her expression and shot her a look. “You may not agree with us, Elsa,” he said, “but we wanted to ensure our family stayed together. And while I may not be there to help raise Anna or support her mother in-person, we budgeted to send an extra large child-support check. The Wintergales are not in great want, despite being a single-parent household.”

Measuring the silence by how long it took for her to finish a bite, Elsa eventually decided it was safe to talk. They were obviously done explaining. “And what does any of that have to do with the rules?” she asked, trying to sound cool and controlled, but instead sounding snippish to her own ears.

“She is not your sister,” Elsa’s mom said, again. “Family is more than just blood, and she belongs to an entirely different family. You live entirely separate lives, and you could have perfectly happily gone your whole lives without knowing one another at all. That is the happiness we wanted for you, not this halfway relationship that can never be what you want it to be.” She sighed. “It will only be painful for you to try and make her your sister, to make her this special person to you, when you two will never be able to really be sisters.”

Doubt curdled in Elsa’s gut as she took another bite. She hadn’t thought about it that way before, but... then again, she wouldn’t really know what sisterhood was like, really-really. Writing Anna had been amazing, but what if that wasn’t the real deal?

Her father sighed, then reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “This is why we didn’t tell you. You may disagree with us, but we only wanted what seemed best for you at the time, and now.” He cleared his throat. “And this is why,” he continued, shifting his done, “we are forbidding you from contacting her again. We know it will be hard. And we know it will be tempting, so your mother will be picking up the mail from now on, just in case. Any further letters sent will be returned, unopened, and I will be calling the Wintergales tonight so as to hopefully stop any further letters from arriving at all.”

“We’re going to lock away the envelopes and stamps,” her mother added, “to alleviate the temptation they might present. We trust that you will obey our rules, but we also know that it’s harder to do so when the opportunity to break them is so easy. So please, don’t think of this as a punishment. We are doing what we’re doing to make this easier for you.”

Her right thumb rubbed against the stone in her pocket. Despite Elsa’s doubts, at least that still felt good and calming. “Okay,” she said, voice finally calm like she’d wanted it to be. “But... even if it had been a kinda halfway sisterhood, why couldn’t we have had just that?”

Her mother smiled sadly. “There is no halfway when it comes to family, especially sisters,” she said. “You know that I had difficulties and a terrible falling-out with my sister many years ago. To this day, it’s painful because, for all intents and purposes, we are no longer family to one another. Whenever I see her, we both pretend we’re fine, but we’re not.”

She reached forward and touched Elsa’s cheek. “I didn’t want some sort of awkward, halfway sisterhood for the two of you.” We figured, when you were both adults, maybe you could meet and have enough life behind you to become friends without the complications and encumberances of familial ties, but...” and she paused, smiling warmly at Elsa for the first time since she’d gotten home, “as brilliant and precocious as you are, Elsa, you’re not an adult yet.”

“I know,” Elsa whispered, willing the tears away from her eyes as she pushed spaghetti around her plate.

“One question,” her father said softly, “and then we can drop the subject and move on to our usual evening routine.” He made eye contact with her with his I-am-your-dad-and-this-is-serious-so-be-honest look. “How did you and Anna start writing letters to one another?”

“I... I went into your office,” Elsa admitted, “and I found her reverse birthday cards to you. One of them had her address on the back.”

He weighed her statement for a moment, then said, “Thank you for being honest, Elsa. Your mother and I spoke earlier, and we’ve decided that you’re still grounded, but we will make an exception for your birthday party.”

“Oh, uh, thanks,” she said. For some reason, she couldn’t get excited about that part. I just didn’t seem to matter as much anymore.

“Remember, Elsa, we love you,” her mother said. “We only want what’s best for you.”

“I know.”

And as dinner finished up and a guise of normalcy blanketed the house, that was the worst part: she knew they only wanted what was best for her. She knew they had no ulterior motives other than caring for her.

It hurt because she had to accept that they were right: she and Anna could never be true sisters. But, as she cleaned up the dishes from dinner, Elsa kept trying to figure out what they were then. Because she loved Anna, but Anna wasn’t her sister. And Elsa liked her friends, she’d known some of them for years, but she couldn’t say she loved them. That wasn’t really how her friends felt to her.

Elsa sighed and tried to think of other things for the rest of the night. She pushed every thought of Anna Wintergale out of her mind until, later that evening, she almost forgot who her dad was supposed to be calling when she came downstairs and heard him on the phone in his office.

And despite being grounded, Elsa couldn’t help but sit outside the door to listen.

Chapter Text

She’d been feeling thirsty when she came downstairs for a glass of water, but all of Elsa’s needs vanished as she sat down outside the door to listen, as best she could, to the conversation her father was having in his office.

“Yes,” he was saying, “but you knew how we felt about them being in contact. You knew that Elsa didn’t know, and you had even agreed about Anna not knowing.”

He paused, and Elsa set her ear against the wall, straining to hear more, to hear Anna’s mother’s reply. Aside from what was either a muffled phone noise or the buzzing TV in the basement, however, she couldn’t catch anything.

“Well of course we told Elsa the truth when we realized she was writing Anna,” her father replied. “Of course we told her the truth and we adjusted and made new rules.” His voice tightened. “My issue is that you, essentially, aided and abetted Anna. Elsa was apparently sneaking stamps from my desk. From what you said, it sounds as though you basically left them out on the kitchen table for her and then conveniently left the room.”

Despite her confused feelings, Elsa felt an immediate warmth for Anna’s mother. At the same time, the idea of Anna thinking she was cleverly taking stamps was too adorable not to imagine, and that set off a chain reaction of thoughts she’d been repressing since dinner.

Elsa thrust her hand into her pocket and immediately began thumbing the worry stone. On the other side of the wall, she could hear her father’s tone shift to his I-am-hanging-up-soon voice.

“That’s irrelevant,” he said sharply. “In any case, please tell Anna to stop writing and inform her that she will no longer receive any letters.” He sighed. “And... please tell Anna that this isn’t Elsa. I don’t support them communicating, but it would be cruel for Anna to think that Elsa was ignoring her, or disliked her.”

A pause, fairly short. Elsa tried to make up a response in her head, something that Anna’s mom could say to make everything better. Before she could, her father had already replied, “Thank you. Despite our differences, I’m glad we can agree on that. I’ll try to make it to one of Anna’s riding competitions to make up for all this. Maybe that will help smooth things over. When is the first one?”

For a minute, the conversation dissolved into a discussion of dates and scheduling, but Elsa couldn’t help the broad smile on her face. Her dad was going to go to one of Anna’s riding competitions after all! Elsa wished she had the button, upstairs in her bedside table, to squeeze as she imagined how happy Anna would be when she found out. Even if Elsa never got to write her again, at least Anna would have that one thing she’d mentioned wanting.

But then she started to imagine her father meeting with Anna’s riding coach with the Scottish accent, and watching Anna ride around on her horse, Butterscotch. The ginger pigtails Anna said she liked in her hair would bounce as she rode around, and he’d get to see the static make her hair stand up when she took off her helmet afterward. Even if he just visited for a weekend, he would get to be a part of Anna’s life in a way Elsa couldn’t.

She was so wrapped up imagining everything she would never get to see that she didn’t realize her father had ended the call until he walked out of the office and did a double take.

“Elsa?” His brows knit together, and his moustache twitched as he took in her pose and, most likely, came to the conclusion that she’d been eavesdropping.

“Uh,” she attempted a smile, “Hi, Dad. I was just coming downstairs for a drink of water before bed?”

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “Actually, some water sounds nice. Let’s go to the kitchen so we can talk a bit.”

She followed him to the kitchen in silence as he poured them both a glass and sat down beside her at the table. For a minute, they both sipped their water without speaking.

“Given that you are already grounded, I ought to levy a harsher punishment on you,” he said eventually, “But I find myself unable to do so. I know it’s already hard enough for you. I will, however, insist to you that you absolutely never do that again, even if I am absentminded enough to leave the door partly open.” His eyes met hers. “Do you understand, Elsa?”

“Yes, Dad.” She nodded vigorously.

“Thank you,” he said.

They sat in silence, drinking their water.

“Elsa,” he said at length, “I know this must be difficult, but you do understand why she is not and cannot be your sister, right?”

Their arguments from dinner had already grown a little fuzzy, but Elsa remembered clearly the conviction of the notion. Her mother had mentioned her own sister (whom she NEVER talked about like ever) to try and make things clearer. And Elsa did understand, which made it complicated, because she wasn’t sure what other category to fit Anna into. A dearly loved penpal?

But that hadn’t been her dad’s question. She knew the answer to that, at least. “Yes, Dad, I do understand.” She took a deep breath. “Anna isn’t my sister.”

He smiled. “It’ll get easier to handle all this with time. One day, when you’re both adults, you’ll finally be able to meet and figure out something that works for the two of you. But for now, I think it’s bedtime.”

Elsa managed a smile. “Okay.” A real yawn overtook her. “I’m kinda tired anyway.”

His smile broadened into a grin as he reached forward and ruffled her hair. “That’s the idea, silly goose.”

As he joked with her on their way upstairs, picking her up right at the final few steps, everything felt normal, like really actually normal, for a few minutes. He helped tidy her covers and tucked her in. They said their good-night-I-love-yous, and he was on his way out of her room when he paused.

“Elsa?”

There was a strained note to his voice.

“Yeah, Dad?”

“I know you are a generally astute child,” he said, “but please, be prudent about this whole situation. It would be very embarrassing for our family if you said something indiscreet about the Wintergales to one of our family friends, or to a friend at school.”

Elsa frowned. The idea hadn’t even occurred to her. She felt almost insulted: hadn’t she kept the letters a secret from them for months? “Uh, yeah, Dad,” she said instead. “I won’t say anything.”

“Thank you Elsa, goodnight. I love you.”

“I love you too, goodnight.”

The tired feelings disappeared from her body as her father shut the door, and Elsa lay awake, turning everything over in her head. After a few minutes, she reached in her bedside table and pulled out the button. Blue around the edge, green in the middle. This was a fact, even though it was dark and she couldn’t see it.

On a whim, she sat up and carried the button over to her desk. She turned on the light and started rummaging through her desk drawers, which were kind of messy since her mother had searched through them. She didn’t worry too much about the light being noticed, since the hall-light was on.

Eventually, she found the string she’d been looking for. She smiled when she realized it was pink, Anna’s other favorite color. Then it took a few minutes of fiddling, but Elsa eventually figured out a way of looping it through both holes of the button so it was nice and secure. After that, she cut one end off the spool and tied the ends in a double knot.

“There we go,” she whispered, slipping the necklace over her head. It hung kind of low, but she could tuck it under her shirt so nobody saw it and asked questions.

Crawling back into bed, Elsa felt suddenly tired. Probably too tired to know why she’d turned the button into a necklace. Definitely too tired to answer what that meant about Anna, who wasn’t her sister.

Instead, Elsa let herself hold her necklace and drifting off to dreams of ice skating next to a horse with a red-haired girl riding it. They raced and raced around a track, but somehow the horse never slipped and applause erupted every time they passed a trio of adults in the stands.

 .

Section I End

Chapter Text

Section II

.

She was a good woman, or at least she tried to be. She offered her daughter reassurances and strove to mother her well. She went to every competition and wiped away every tear.

“Oh, I’m certain that Adgar would be proud of you,” she said firmly. “He’d really hoped to make it to this one.”

Beside her, Anna slumped in the passenger seat, the picture of prepubescent grouchiness. “Yeah, whatever,” she mumbled. “I wish I hadn’t asked.”

Sighing, she added, “I would call your father tonight and tell him you won, but he’s out of town for the weekend.”

“Oh?” Anna’s voice attempted boredom, but still, curiosity perked the intonation.

“Apparently Elsa has some sort of ice skating competition this same weekend,” she said, keeping her voice neutral. “It’s way over on the west coast, so he couldn’t make it here for you.”

“No, no, I get it,” Anna said. “Could you, um, maybe ask him if she won? When you call to say that I won?” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Don’t like, ask him from me, just, ya know, make small talk, be polite, ask about Elsa since she’s the reason he couldn’t come here?”

“You could,” she replied casually, “talk to him yourself. I could call and then hand the phone over to you. He doesn’t have anything against talking to you on the phone.”

Anna shrugged and slumped lower. “I don’t want to,” she mumbled.

“And that’s fine too.”

They fell into a comfortable silence and Anna began drifting off in the passenger seat, her cheek resting against the seatbelt.

About half an hour later, the headlights illuminated a blue and white sign that read, “Tennessee Welcomes You.”

“Anna,” she whispered, “We’re home.” She paused. “Well, almost.”

The sleeping 12-year-old mumbled something in her sleep and shifted.

Then headlights appeared in the wrong place, swerving.

She flipped the steering wheel to the side.

They car swerved again.

“Anna!”

Impact.

Chapter Text

Elsa knew by fourteen that ‘we need to have a family meeting,’ never meant anything good, especially whenever they happened away from a stable situation. She shifted her position on the hotel bed, waiting for one of her parents to get the conversation started.

They kept exchanging glances of various significances, and finally Elsa couldn’t stand it anymore. “Is there something wrong?” she asked mildly. It was obnoxious for them to call a Super Serious Family Meeting and then not spit it out.

They exchanged yet one more look. Her father sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“Your father needs to head home early,” her mother said.

Before Elsa could react, he added, “You know I’m incredibly proud of you, Elsa, and I’m thrilled that you’ve earned the right to stay for the next few days to compete. But I was contacted today about an urgent situation, and I need to leave early tomorrow.”

“What happened?” Elsa leaned forward. “Do we all need to go back?”

“No, no,” her mother said. “This isn’t so urgent as to pull you out of nationals. But your father needs go, unfortunately.” She smiled, but it seemed forced. “I’ll be staying here to support you, don’t worry.”

“I want you to do the best you can,” her father said, smiling. “Your dedication and talent are astounding, and I know you’re going to skate circles around the competition, metaphorically.”

“This could be your tickets to the Olympics,” her mother pointed out. “They’re just two years away, and you’ll be the right age to start by then, if you keep on this path.”

Something about the statement set off alarm bells in Elsa’s head, even as she smiled. It just seemed so... pointless. They all knew she was on track for the Olympic team, or tryouts at the very least. Honestly, it felt as though they’d spoken of little else for the past few months.

The only reasons for her mother to bring it up again were... what? For Elsa to be reminded of how important it was to stay? To keep the conversation on that topic? Or...

Elsa narrowed her eyes as recognized the redirection for what it was. They’d never told her why her father had to leave.

“Yeah, it’s such a great opportunity to be here. I’m so happy that you were both able to take time off to come with me. Travelling with Coach Cindy is nice, but nothing beats being with my parents” She smiled and watched their shoulders drift downward as they relaxed and smiled back at her. After a tranquil moment, she added, almost as an afterthought, “Oh, why does dad have to leave again?”

Immediately, the relaxed note disappeared from her mother and father’s postures. They exchanged another look and her father pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Idunn,” he said, massaging his eyelids, “we need to tell her eventually.”

“Yes,” she said, “but we talked about this, Adgar. It would be a distraction.”

Elsa rolled her eyes. “Um, sitting right here?” Immediately, she regretted indulging in the snarky impulse. Her parents turned and simultaneously glared at her. “I mean,” she cut in, “what do you think would distract me? I’m extremely focused when I’m on the ice. I really doubt something could mess with my rink mentality after all the practice Coach Cindy put me through.”

“There was an accident,” her father said abruptly, but firmly. “It seems as though the other driver was drunk. It happened late last night, and... Anna Wintergale, her mother was killed.”

Elsa’s hands flew to her mouth and she gasped. “Oh my god,” she whispered. “Is, is Anna okay?”

He nodded. “She wrenched her shoulder and has a few bruises, but is otherwise unscathed.” He ran a hand through his hair. “But I need to go to Tennessee to help settle some things with Anna and... and attend the funeral.” His shoulders slumped.

The three of them sat in silence for a moment. Tears welled in Elsa’s eyes, but it felt insincere somehow to cry them when she’d never even known Anna’s mother. She’d barely known Anna.

“We were hesitant to tell you,” her mother continued, “because we, frankly, weren’t certain how to bring it up with you.” She sighed. “Anna is a sensitive topic, and this... is not an easy situation to approach lightly.”

Elsa took a deep breath. Her hand slipped down from her mouth to grip the button necklace through her shirt. “I’m so glad that Anna is okay.”

Her father smiled. “We all are. My understanding is that she will make a full recovery within a few weeks.”

“And you won’t need to worry about me getting distracted,” Elsa said.

“That’s... good,” her mother said, obviously sensing something else behind Elsa’s words.

Elsa sat back in the bed, hugging her knees to her chest. “I won’t get distracted on the ice because I’m forfeiting.” She caught her father’s gaze and held it. “I’m forfeiting and coming with you, Dad.”

“What?” Her father’s eyebrows shot upward.

“Absolutely not, Elsa!” Her mother crossed her arms.

“I can use your cell phone to call Coach Cindy while you call the airline on the hotel phone,” Elsa continued.

“You’re not leaving.”

“Elsa, this is nationals! Isn’t this what you’ve been practicing for?”

“Coach Cindy can put in my forfeiture. If we get it in tonight, they might be able to notify the next runner up before they leave.” Elsa gave the button necklace one more squeeze, then crossed her arms.

“Elsa, NO.”

The cycle continued as they kept telling her no and Elsa just dug her heels deeper and deeper. In some ways, the argument felt revitalizing. Never before had she refused her parents so absolutely. Elsa’s mouth tightened. But never before had she felt so strongly about something they opposed. Whoever Anna was to her, she needed to be there for her. Even though the memory of the letters had faded somewhat, Elsa remembered catching glimpses of Anna’s mother in all of them, in small references and in how Anna talked about her life.

They hadn’t spoken since, but something in Elsa needed to be there for Anna, or at least to be available. A smaller part of her whispered that this situation, however terrible, might be the only chance she had to see Anna before they were ‘suitably adult enough to determine their own relationship’ or whatever.

“If you don’t let me forfeit and go to Tennessee,” Elsa said finally, “then I’ll botch my routine on purpose. If nothing else, practice has taught me how to catch myself when I fall.”

She resisted a grim smirk, keeping her expression serious and determined as her parents lost track of their momentum, exchanging a look. All three of them knew that a mysterious forfeit would be far less damaging than a completely tanked score.

The next morning, Elsa watched the clouds pass by the window and the cars shrunk with every second. Sitting beside her, Elsa could see that her father’s eyebrows still hadn’t unfurrowed since he’d handed her his cell phone to call Coach Cindy. Her mother had yelled, briefly, then gone stonily silent for the rest of the evening. She’d come to the airport with them and said a terse goodbye before boarding her own plane home.

And of course, Anna Wintergale’s mother was dead. Whatever the situation with her parents, at least Elsa had them.

She took a deep breath as she looked out the window. The clouds were below them now, and the ground was a faint pattern of squares and lines. However it had happened, Elsa was finally on her way to meet Anna.

Chapter Text

Tennessee didn’t look all that different from home, the trees flashing by as they drove a rented SUV through the hills away from the airport to where Anna was. Elsa had initially chatted a bit about the weather and new scenery, but when her father’s responses became limited to one and two word answers, she felt too awkward to continue. As looking out the window became her new full-time entertainment, she started to wonder if the blackmail had been a bad idea.

Since last night, her father had barely spoken to her, even on the four hour flight. She’d never tried that sort of power play with her parents before, but maybe there was a reason why.

A faint blush rose in her cheeks and she resisted the impulse to press her face against the cool window. Elsa didn’t even know if she’d have gone through with her threat and tanked her score. And even if she tried, was it even possible to force it past her muscle memory?

“Elsa,” her father said.

She cleared her throat. “Uh, yes?”

He sighed. “The place we’re going, it’s actually not Anna’s house. She’s currently staying with, uh, her riding coach’s mother.”

“Why? That sounds random.” Elsa wasn’t sure if Anna had been with the same riding coach since they’d written letters as children, but she’d seemed fond of her Scottish-accented coach back then.

A shrug. “Apparently Mrs. DunBroch works in social services, so when Merida, Anna’s coach, heard about what happened, they arranged for Anna to stay with her instead of staying with a foster family in the meantime.

“In any case, I just wanted to tell you that, that um, we’ll be visiting here today to check in on Anna and see how she is. The funeral isn’t until tomorrow. The day after that, we’ll be heading home.” His voice sped up as he finished, and something about his intonation suggested that he was leaving something out, but Elsa didn’t know what it could be.

“Um, okay,” she said.

They drove for a while in silence.

“I just want to warn you,” her father said abruptly, “that I may need to step out of the room for a bit. I just anticipate needing to have some adult conversations with Merida and her mother.”

Elsa blinked. “Oh, you’ll leave me alone with Anna?”

The corners of his mouth tightened. “For a little bit, yes. I just... I simply anticipate that I’ll need to have some conversations with them.”

“Oh, okay.” Elsa sat back against the seat. She hadn’t even realized that she’d leaned forward and toward her father until she sat back and took a breath. Alone with Anna? She could say anything she wanted, finally. She could say something to her at all, for the first time in forever.

She could finally be there for Anna in the same way Anna had been there for her when they were children. Elsa slipped a hand into her pocket and rubbed her thumb into the indentation of the worry stone.

Taking a deep breath, Elsa closed her eyes and went through her pre-skating routine, holding the stone and going through every fear and anxiety she had words to express:

What if Anna was far more hurt in the accident than her father had said?

What if Anna didn’t want to talk to Elsa at all?

What if the letters hadn’t meant much to Anna?

What if she didn’t remember them?

What if Elsa couldn’t figure out a way to help?

What if she couldn’t think of anything to say when she got there?

What if she said the wrong thing and made it all worse?

What if she made it worse just by being there?

What if Anna wanted Elsa to shut up or leave?

What if Anna wanted her to shut up or leave but couldn’t say so?

What if—

“We’re here,” her father said.

Elsa opened her eyes and took another deep breath, giving the worry stone one last squeeze. As though it were just another skating competition, she took all her fears and set them aside, as best she could. If she named all of them, they couldn’t loom over her like nameless, formless monsters with long shadows.

Her father pulled up in front of a house and parked the car. He sighed deeply. “Here it is,” he muttered.

If Elsa named all her fears, maybe she could skate around them, somehow.

“There’s one last thing,” her father started, “I haven’t been sure how to say this, but...”

Then the front door burst open and a woman with an intimidating mane of red hair stormed through.

Her father got out on the driver’s side without finishing his sentence. “Hello Coach Merida,” he said formally.

Elsa opened the door and got out on the passenger side in time to hear the woman, Coach Merida, reply, “Hello yourself, Sommerset. It’s about damn time you got here.” She glanced past him as Elsa started walking around the car. “Ah, I take it you’re Elsa, lassie?”

“Um, yes?” Elsa resisted the urge to shrink as the woman, who looked to be in her late twenties, held her gaze for a moment.

Merida’s expression softened. “Maybe that’ll help,” she said absently. Turning back to Elsa’s father, her demeanor chilled. “In any case, why don’t the both of you come inside.” She turned around and waved them to come with her as she walked back inside.

The house inside was neat enough, but some corners were home to miscellaneous items that had likely evaded relocation for several cleaning cycles. It felt very homey, however, and Elsa immediately liked the large scottish flag hanging in the front hall.

“This way,” Merida said, a bit quieter now that they were inside. “Anna? You’ve got some visitors.”

Merida walked through a doorway and stopped on the other side, gesturing for them to follow through. Elsa couldn’t see the rest of the room, which was set off to the right of the doorway. Her father walked through and immediately rushed out of view toward Anna.

“Anna! I’m here now!”

Elsa paused on the close side of the doorway, suddenly shy of walking through. Merida was watching Anna and her father with arms crossed.

“Oh. Hi, Adgar,” said a faint voice from inside the room. Elsa had imagined Anna’s voice a dozen dozen times, but never had she thought she’d hear it so weak and broken.

Elsa clutched the doorframe and leaned her cheek against it. She’d never heard three words that sounded so sad and that’s when she realized that there was no way she could help Anna.

She’d only make it worse and it had been entirely selfish to try and force visiting Anna into this whole mess because Anna’s mother had died. As much as Elsa cared for Anna, part of visiting had still been so she could meet Anna and, leaning her face against the doorframe, Elsa came to the conclusion that she didn’t even deserve that.

No wonder her father had barely spoken to her since last night. It wasn’t some discomfort with Elsa meeting Anna, it was because Elsa doing so right now was entirely inappropriate.

“Hey, lassie.”

Elsa looked up to find Merida had moved closer. In the background, she could hear her father quietly speaking to Anna.

“Lass,” Merida said, “I know it’s hard to figure out what to say to someone who lost their mother.” She smiled sadly. “Honestly, I can’t imagine losing my mother and I’m over twice Anna’s age. It’s something nobody should face so young and there ain’t a right thing in the world to say to her. So don’t worry about saying the wrong thing. Just go and be there for her, as best you can.”

Another smile, less sad this time. “And for someone she’s never met, there were days she wouldn’t shut up about you. I’m certain she’ll be thrilled to see you at last, even if that thrill is muted by the circumstances.” And then Merida’s smile twisted into something grimmer. “I’ll even make sure you can meet her alone.”

She was turning away, about to say something to Elsa’s father, when Elsa whispered, “But what if I make it worse?”

Merida turned back for a moment. “Lass, it don’t get worse than this. Only place Anna’s got to go is up. Just try and help her there as best ya can.”

Elsa took a deep breath. Even if she’d been selfish and terrible, it would only be moreso for her to mope and dwell on the fact instead of supporting Anna. She gave the worry stone a quick squeeze through her pocket. She would help Anna now and hate herself later.

“Sommerset,” Merida called, voice cold, “I need to speak with you now. C’mere.”

“I’ll be back soon, Anna,” she heard her father say, followed by the creak of an old couch and his footsteps across the floor.

He seemed surprised to see Elsa in the doorway, as though he’d forgotten she’d come with him at all. He didn’t say anything as he passed, however, and Merida inclined her head toward Anna as she followed him.

The adults walked down the hall and turned a corner. Elsa distantly heard her father say, “Ah, you must be Elinor,” before a door shut.

Elsa hesitated before stepping through the door, turning to the right. A girl with red hair piled around her shoulders was curled up on the couch with a blanket pulled up around her shoulders. Her back was to the door, and her head leaned against the back of the couch.

Elsa walked toward her. She cleared her throat. “Anna?” she said. “It’s me, Elsa.”

Anna’s shoulders dropped and she straightened her head slowly. “Elsa?” She turned to look up at Elsa and, for a just moment, the sadness in her expression shifted to pure surprise. “It’s you,” she whispered.

“Yeah.” Elsa smiled. “I’m right here.” She sat down beside Anna and hesitated a moment before putting a hand on her shoulder. “I’m so sorry about your mom.” She took a deep breath. “And I know that nothing I say can make it better, but just know that I’m here for you, Anna. I’ll always be here.”

Anna’s expression faded back to melancholy. “I... I didn’t think you’d be here at all,” she said. After a beat, she shifted so her head rested against Elsa’s shoulder. “But I’m glad you are.”

“There is nowhere else in the world I would rather be,” Elsa said, rubbing Anna’s head. After another minute, she couldn’t think of any more words to say, so she turned and wrapped her arms around Anna, holding her close.

Chapter Text

Elsa was holding Anna when the quiet of the room shattered with the sound of Scottish-tinged yelling from down the hall.

“And I’ve taken better responsibility for lamed horses than you’ve done for your own daughter!”

Anna jerked in her arms and winced. “Ow, shit,” she whispered, pulling back.

“What’s wrong?” Elsa’s eyes quickly scanned Anna’s body, but she seemed fine aside from a few bruises.

“My shoulder,” Anna said, reaching over to grab a cold pack from the table beside her. “It’s about time I put ice back on it anyway,” she said. She pulled her hair off her shoulder to settle the cold pack there.

“Will it be okay?” Elsa couldn’t hold Anna since she was balancing the cold pack between her shoulder and the back of the couch, so she settled for resting a hand on Anna’s other shoulder.

Anna shrugged the shoulder under Elsa’s hand. “Probably.” Her voice was starting to sound dead again. “The doctor said to take it easy for a few weeks, ice it when I can.”

“Ah.”

They sat in silence. Elsa resisted the urge to fidget. From down the hall, she could hear raised voices, though she only caught the occasional word here and there.

“—Anna—”

“—return trip—”

“—even make sense—”

“—posh lifestyle—”

“—coach—”

“—damn horse—”

She could recognize her father’s voice sometimes, but mostly the one raising their voice seemed to be Coach Merida, with her distinctive accent.

Elsa was rubbing her thumb along Anna’s shoulder. She didn’t know if she was doing the comforting right, but Anna seemed to appreciate her presence in small ways. She pressed against Elsa’s hand sometimes, and by the time Elsa thought of something to ask, Anna had shifted and was leaning her head to the side, resting her cheek against the back of Elsa’s hand.

“Your hair is paler than I imagined,” Anna murmured.

Elsa smiled. “And you’re a good deal taller than that crayon drawing indicated.”

Anna’s demeanor closed down. After a long pause, she whispered, “Things change.”

Biting her lip, Elsa resisted the urge to smack herself in the face. She couldn’t think of anything she could say that wouldn’t be a problem. After a few minutes of trying, she decided to pick a question at random, just to try.

“Is it okay if I ask about your competition?” Elsa asked. “Dad mentioned on the plane that you had one this weekend too.”

“Hm?” Anna blinked and straightened up. “What did you say?” Her eyes seemed distant, like she wasn’t seeing the same room as Elsa.

“Uh, your competition, may I ask you about it?”

Anna nodded. “I heard you had one too.”

Elsa smiled slightly. “Yeah. How did your competition go?”

A shrug. “Fine.”

Floundering, Elsa tried to decipher from Anna’s dead tone whether or not it was okay to ask any further questions. On the one hand, Anna loved riding, as best Elsa understood. On the other hand her mother had died while driving back from the competition.

“Not that it matters,” Anna murmured absently, cutting short Elsa’s indecision.

“Sure it does,” Elsa said urgently. She smiled earnestly at Anna and tucked a few spare strands of red hair behind her ear. “And, um, it might not be my place, but I’m sure your mom would want you to keep riding.”

Anna’s distant eyes seemed to sharpen. She studied Elsa’s face intently before saying, “So you think Adgar will let me continue riding?”

In the distance, Elsa heard several voices yelling on top of one another in an incoherent babble.

She frowned. “It’s my understanding that he was paying for your lessons, right? I can’t think of a reason he’d stop, but I’m sure you could ask Da—him.” She cleared her throat to cover her slight. It felt presumptuous to call her father ‘Dad’ when that wasn’t how Anna referred to him. Referring to him as ‘my dad’ only sounded worse in Elsa’s head, presumptuous in a different manner.

Expression clear and intent, Anna nodded slightly. “I... I think I will.” She set the cold pack aside and rolled her shoulder slightly. “I can’t ride until my shoulder heals, but it would be nice to have that to look forward to.”

“Of course,” Elsa said, “It would kill me to give up skating.” She mentally winced at her slip of phrasing, but kept going. “And I seriously can’t think of why he’d be opposed. It’ll just be paying what he’s been paying, right?” She leaned forward and gave Anna a quick, careful hug.

The embrace lingered as Anna’s good arm slipped around Elsa’s back and held her close. “Yeah...?” A look of consternation crossed Anna’s face, followed by the lightest faintest smile. It was the first one Elsa had seen cross her lips. “Thank you, Elsa, you’re a good...” she trailed off, the word ‘sister’ hanging in the air between them.

Anna’s smile was gone before Elsa could take it in fully. “You’re good,” she finished.

Awkward, Elsa just smiled back, pulling away as Anna’s arm loosened. “You too,” she said. Immediately, her stomach twisted and a faint blush colored her cheeks the same as it had that morning, when she’d said ‘you too’ to the security officer who’d told her to ‘have a good flight.’

Down the hall, the adult voices seemed to have reverted to a normal volume. Elsa thought she heard footsteps, but before she could focus on the sound, Anna said, “Oh, Elsa, when are we leaving?”

“Oh, uh we were going to fly home the day after the funeral.” Elsa furrowed her eyebrows. There was something off about Anna’s phrasing. “Wait, what do you mean we?”

“God above, you’re not much for talking to either of your daughters, are you?” Merida had reappeared in front of the doorway. She swept her hair back from her face and turned, incredulous, toward Elsa’s father.

He cut in, sounding stressed. “We were about to discuss the matter, but I ran out of time—”

Merida snorted. “Sorry your father communicates like a—”

“Tell me what?” Elsa looked from face to face for an answer. Anna’s face seemed stripped of grief for the first time, shock overriding everything else. “Anna?” Elsa reached forward and squeezed Anna’s hands in her own. “Does this mean that...?”

“Anna’s going back to New York with you when everything’s settled,” Merida said. “Sommerset here is her only living parent and even he’s not so sh—selfish as to leave her for foster care.” She shot him a look.

Elsa turned to gaze at her father, whose face had flushed to a bright red. “It’s more complicated than that,” he said, “but yes, Elsa. Anna will be accompanying us back home. Her mother had no close relatives, and the will was quite clear. The executor of her estate will put everything in order to support Anna once she’s 18, but we’ll be taking her with us when we depart, along her belongings.”

Anna’s hands gripped hers tighter, and Elsa turned back to meet the younger girl’s eyes. Her expression was a mixture of emotions, but Elsa recognized sadness and, beyond that, an edge of cautious curiosity.

“I meant to say this earlier,” her father said from near the door, “but I couldn’t. In any case, it’s getting late now, Elsa. We need to leave so we can check into the hotel.”

“Leave? But, but I just got here!” Elsa leaned protectively toward Anna, moving one arm to wrap it around her shoulders, being careful of the injured one.

“You’ll see her again tomorrow, and every day after that for quite a while, frankly,” her father said. “We’re leaving. Now.”

Elsa reluctantly stood up, giving Anna a quick hug before she did so. “I love you,” she whispered. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

Her father strode briskly out of the house. Elsa followed, having to jog a few extra steps by the time they reached the car in order to keep up with him. They got in, buckled up, and her father gripped the steering wheel tightly for a moment. He sighed, then started up the car. Despite the tension, his driving was as steady as ever. Elsa felt almost ashamed for peeking at the speedometer at one point to check his speed, but he was right at the limit.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before,” her father said.

At first, Elsa wanted to snap at him, but she resisted the urge. After a moment, she asked, “Why was it hard?”

The silence stretched until they pulled into the parking lot in front of a hotel. Her father shut of the car and sat back against the seat, sighing. “In so many ways,” he said, “the current circumstances are just so foreign, so different, from life thus far... They’re so different that I kept approaching the conversation with you as though I needed to explain that, in three days, the sky would be purple.” He closed his eyes. “It’s just such a change... where do you start? How do you explain?

“We’ve tried to give you and Anna discrete lives, minus the letter-swapping phase. And now, in the course of a week, all that needs to be undone because of a tragic, stupid accident.” His voice tightened on the last words, and Elsa whipped her head around to see tears glimmering at the corner of her father’s eyes.

Somehow, in all the complications about Anna and her mother’s death and the changes that had rocked Elsa’s world in the past twenty-four hours, it hadn’t struck her once that her father, her stable, implacable father, would grieve, would cry. Anna was his daughter, certainly, and Elsa held no illusions about how, exactly children were made. In the (sparse) narrative she knew about her parents’ fight and her father’s affair, the bond that had eventually led to Anna’s conception was downplayed. It wasn’t spoken of, as much as it could be avoided.

Her father leaned forward and rested his forehead on the steering wheel, she lost sight of his eyes. She heard, however the soft plop of tears falling against his pants.

To put it bluntly, sure: he’d left her once she got pregnant, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t cared for her. All of Elsa’s pain was on Anna’s behalf, secondhand. He’d probably loved her.

She bit her lip and reached out, putting a hand on her father’s shoulder. “It’s really complicated,” she whispered, “isn’t it, Dad?”

He took a deep breath, shoulder rising under her hand. After a moment, he wiped his face on his sleeve and sat up. “More than you know, Elsa,” he said. “But I know that you will do your best. I can tell that you helped Anna today, just in the time I was out of the room.”

“Really?”

“Truly.” He smiled at her. “We kept you apart for good reasons, but that all needs to change now. Just... do your best to support her and help her transition.” He opened the car door on his side and got out.

Elsa did the same. “What if I mess it up?”

Her father’s face seemed a bit more closed off as he started getting their luggage out of the back of the car. Elsa sensed that their conversation was drawing to a close. “You will,” he said, “but if I know my little girl, she’ll make it better again.” He pushed one of their suitcases over to her. “Now help me roll these inside so we can check in.”

“Yes, Dad.” She took the handle and followed him into the light of the hotel lobby. Once there, he smiled with class and spoke to the concierge without a hint that he’d just been crying, or that he’d been travelling nearly all day, or that his ex-girlfriend had died.

Elsa envied his ability in the moment. She knew her hair was out of place and she looked tired. She felt drained and it probably showed in how she was slouching. Clearing her throat, she straightened her posture. She would need to develop her poise and control if she was to be strong enough to support Anna.

Chapter Text

Elsa smiled at Anna and reached back to take her hand. “Everything is gonna be alright,” she whispered.

Anna just squeezed her hand. She’d put on a baseball cap earlier and pulled the brim low. Elsa could still kind of see her eyes, but the taller adults certainly couldn’t.

It was obviously intentional, so Elsa had distracted her father earlier when he absently asked Anna to fix her hat. Now, she pulled lightly on Anna’s hand, guiding her out of Merida’s front door.

“We’ve got several hours before our plane leaves,” her father said, checking his watch. “But I would like to get to the airport with time to spare. Still... we do have some time before our flights this afternoon” He turned to Anna. “Is there anything else you need or want to do before we leave?”

Elsa turned just as Anna stepped forward, almost against her back, and whispered, “Home.” She squeezed Elsa’s hand slightly, then stepped back to the place she’d been before.

Since the funeral yesterday, Anna had barely spoken. Elsa rubbed her thumb along Anna’s. Thankfully, nobody had tried to push her to do so.

“I think Anna would like to visit her home one more time,” Elsa said, looking up to meet her father’s gaze.

“Oh.” He glanced around. “I’m... not entirely certain how to get there from here.”

“Well, I do, so it’s not a problem.” Elsa turned to see Coach Merida hauling out Anna’s last suitcase. “It’s even on the way to the airport, basically, so you dont’ have to worry about running late.”

“Ah, well that’s convenient.” Her father brushed back a strand of hair that had come out of place. “Will you drive there, then, and I’ll follow in the rental with the girls?”

Elsa stole a glance at Anna. ‘The girls’ sounded strange and futuristic.

“No,” Merida said, passing by Elsa’s father as she moved to toss the suitcase in the back of the SUV. “Anna will ride with me.” She cast a glance back toward Elsa and Anna. “If that’s alright with you, of course.”

Anna squeezed Elsa’s hand, then nodded. After a moment, she withdrew her hand from Elsa’s grip, then went to stand by Merida’s black pickup truck in the driveway.

“That’s alright,” Elsa’s father said absently. “We’d best get going though.”

Never in her life had Elsa felt so frequently and consistently awkward in car rides with her parents, but the past few days had made it habit. As she and her father followed Merida’s pickup through the hills to the Wintergale house, a damp silence fell, matching the halfhearted drizzle outside.

Elsa cleared her throat often, each time trying to work up the nerve to ask her father a question. It was only as Merida turned off the main road, however, obviously nearing their destination, that she managed to do so:

“Dad, will, um, will Anna be able to continue her riding?”

He didn’t react to her question for a few moments, and she got the impression he was concentrating extra hard on driving in order to justify doing so, though their visibility was fine. Eventually he sighed.

“There’s no reason in particular why she shouldn’t be able to do so. I’m unaware of any places near our home which would offer lessons, but, once we’re there, I’ll be certain to look into it.” He glanced at her. “But you know she can’t ride for several weeks, at the very least, given the injuries to her shoulder. Frankly, after the accident, I’m surprised she doesn’t have whiplash too.”

“I know,” Elsa said. “I was just wondering about it, since, um, it just seemed like something very important to her.”

He turned down a side street into a neighborhood and nodded. “Frankly, the lessons were the best present I thought to give her.” A slight smile cracked his expression. “Despite the opinion Coach Merida holds of me, I know I did well in that. I think every little girl goes through a horse phase, but I’d never met a child so intent on them as Anna.” And then the smile was gone. “Her mother was a bit skeptical, I think she had other hobbies in mind, but Anna took right to her lessons.”

As they pulled up in front of a house, Elsa stayed absolutely silent. Her father almost seemed to be talking to himself. “Of course Anna did well in her swim lessons too, but when it came to competition, she wanted to ride, not join swim team. I got that much right. So of course she’ll continue her lessons.” He parked the car and unbuckled, but didn’t move to get out. He turned and nodded to Elsa. “Now that I think of it, I think there’s a stables set up on the other side of town. We just don’t drive that way much.”

Then he got out of the car and Elsa had to scramble to catch up, banging into the door when she forgot to unlock it, and then coughing when she tried to get out of the car without undoing her seatbelt. By the time she made it to the porch, Merida had already unlocked the door.

“There’s a lot of boxes,” she was explaining to Anna, “but they’ve yet to take anything out yet. Just packing some things into storage for you to have later and selling a few other big things.”

Anna nodded and took a step toward the doorway.

“Wait!” Elsa cried, holding a hand out toward her. She winced as they all turned to look at her, but forged onward anyway. “Um, Anna do you, uh, need, er, want someone to go inside with you? Just so, um, you’re not alone?”

Her father shot her a piercing look and Elsa told herself that it was okay if this request was just a bit selfish too. She was asking to support Anna, but, yes, she did desperately want to see the place Anna called home. She wanted to see it, because how else could she try and make their house back in New York home to Anna?

Anna just shrugged. “Sure,” she said, voice quiet. Then she pushed open the door, bumping it with her hip as she walked inside.

Elsa followed, a few paces behind. The door tried to swing shut as she walked through, and the doorknob bumped into her hand painfully. Elsa resisted the urge to swear as she snatched her hand away, holding it to her chest and rubbing at the point of impact. No wonder Anna had gotten in the habit of bumping it with her hip.

Even farther ahead by now, Anna was already heading up a half-flight of stairs. “Do you want me to come with you?” Elsa called out.

Anna paused on the top step, then shook her head. She paused in front of two doors, then went into the one of the right. On the left, Elsa could see a sign that read, “Anna’s Room,” on a painted horse.

With Anna out of sight, Elsa turned around, trying to take in everything. There were boxes everywhere, and a great deal had already been packed away, but Elsa could still see plenty of character. All around her, picture frames held images of Anna and an older woman with her smile and red hair. There were pictures of Anna on horses, including a series of pictures along the front-hall wall that seemed to be a progression of Anna-on-a-horse pictures through the years.

In fact, the front hall seemed to be almost entirely untouched. Elsa could see several pairs of shoes cluttered in the corner behind the door. Anna’s clothing had already been packed up, but Elsa thought she spied a pair of small shoes in the jumble. She didn’t disturb them. Anna had picked the belongings she wanted to take with her, and it wasn’t Elsa’s place to question why she’d left something behind.

A thread of doubt wound its way into her thoughts. After all, how the hell was she supposed to look around a half-packed house and figure out how to make her own pristine home, decorated by her parents, in any way resemble the homey, kinda messy house that Anna knew? The more Elsa looked around, ducking into the kitchen, family room, and peeking at the backyard, the more she became convinced that the place had been defined by the presence of people, rather than a particular aesthetic.

As she passed by another wall of photographs on her way to the front hall, the absence of Anna’s mother seemed to be a palpable feeling in the house. Elsa was about to call up the stairs for Anna when she heard her father and Merida talking on the other side of the front door.

“—tinue her lessons once her shoulder is healed.”

Elsa held back her inclination to call Anna’s name and tiptoed closer to the door to listen better. Thankfully, they were starting to raise their voices a bit. From what she could tell, it was a habit between them.

“That’s great,” Merida snipped, “and I suppose you think that’ll make everything better.”

“I could build a stable in my backyard and you would still think I’m a shit father, so I don’t see the point of responding to that.”

“Augh, maybe because you could build a stable and buy her a dozen horses and it still wouldn’t have squat to do with being a parent.”

Her father was silent for a moment. “Wait,” he said, tone shifting. Elsa leaned her ear against the door to her better. “What horse is Anna riding this year?”

“Ah, Sitron.” Merida sounded off-balance. “Why?”

“I’ll buy him,” her father said.

Merida sputtered. “I’ve not named you a price!”

Behind her, Elsa could hear Anna shut the door at the top of the stairs. She quickly pulled away from her blatant eavesdropping position, but she could still hear them well enough.

“Come up with a fair one, send me a letter. I’ll send back a check once I receive it,” her father said. “Give yourself two months to find time to deliver him. Anna should be healed by then, her lessons will be about to start up. I’ll arrange for boarding him in New York, and I’ll pay for your travel expenses.”

“And what in the hell of it makes you certain I’ll just hop over and sell my horse when you flash your checkbook, Sommerset?”

Elsa was trying to maintain a neutral expression as Anna made her way down the stairs but she couldn’t help the look of confusion the came over her as her father laughed outrageously on the other side of the door.

“Merida DunBroch,” he said, “I know you’ll do it precisely because you’re not the type of person who jumps for a check. You’ll sell the horse and deliver him personally because you know it’s a chance to check back in on Anna, and because you know the horse will make her very happy. You’ve cared for her regardless of my lesson fee. I hardly expect that to change now.”

Elsa missed Merida’s response as Anna cleared her throat, drawing closer. “I... I’m ready to go,” she said. Under one arm, she’d leaned a box against her hip that Elsa hadn’t been able to see as she came down the stairs.

She didn’t ask what was in it. “Alright,” she said. “Let’s head on out then.” By the time she opened the door, Merida and her father had fallen silent. The former seemed frustrated, the latter was smiling.

“You girls ready to go?” he asked.

Elsa nodded. “Anna’s got a box, but it’s just a small one. That won’t be a problem, will it?”

Her father shook his head as they started walking back to the car. “We’re already paying for extra luggage for her other things. It’s nothing.” Without discussion, Anna went to get into Merida’s car again.

“We’ll see you at the airport,” her father called over.

Merida just nodded. Elsa faintly heard her say, “C’mon lass, I’ve got a roll of tape in the back seat to seal that box up with.”

As they drove away, Elsa took one last look at the house. There was no way she could make her house into Anna’s old home, but... if Anna’s home had been defined by the people in it, maybe Elsa could try. She couldn’t replace Anna’s mother, but she could try and be the presence that made Anna feel at home, regardless of what pictures were hung on the walls.

Chapter Text

“Well, here we are.” Elsa turned around to smile gently at Anna.

The younger girl’s eyes were still obscured by the baseball hat, but her expression seemed to tighten as Elsa squeezed her hand.

“Let’s, uh, grab some of your bags to carry inside,” Elsa said, reluctantly dropping Anna’s hand. Her father had popped the trunk and had set the luggage and boxes behind the car before going to unlock the door. She grabbed two suitcases of Anna’s clothes and started pulling them along the sidewalk to the front door.

Glancing back to ensure that Anna was following, Elsa’s eyes trailed down and she noticed, for the first time, that the name written on the suitcases wasn’t Anna’s, but her mother’s. Elsa turned back to the front door and paused a moment as her dad unlocked it. The blank look on Anna’s face told her nothing of what she thought of the house.

“I’ll get the rest of the bags,” her father said, setting a box inside the foyer. “Why don’t you take Anna up to her new room, it’ll be the old guest room next to yours.”

“Oh, okay,” Elsa said, pausing with the suitcases off to the side of the doorway. “Are you sure you don’t need help?” Glancing around, the house seemed oddly quiet. “And is Mom home?”

He shook his head, eyes following Anna as she walked in behind Elsa. “I don’t mind unloading the rest. I’ll leave your things outside your door and Anna’s outside hers. And I believe your mother is out picking up a few essentials right now. She’ll be back before it’s dinner.”

“Alright.” Elsa studiously didn’t question whether her mother’s absence was convenient or simply well-timed. “Anyway, Anna, your room is next to mine upstairs.” She smiled. “Just follow me. I’ll give you a tour of the house later.”

They passed the office on their way to the stairs, and Elsa chanced a glance inside. Years ago, when she found Anna’s cards, she couldn’t have imagined this moment, walking up the stairs with the redheaded girl behind her.

“Oh, this is my room,” Elsa said as they passed her door. After being away for so long, she wanted nothing more than to rush in and shut the door behind her, to lie on her own bed and read from her own bookshelf. “I’ll show it to you later,” she said, passing by.

Anna’s needs were more important.

“Here’s your room,” she said, reaching the former guest room and opening the door. She raised her eyebrows as they walked inside. The room had obviously been re-done and rearranged to some extent. The drab floral bedsheets had been replaced with a green-toned, geometric spread. It was much younger-feeling, as were the matching drapes. The wardrobe, dresser, and desk hadn’t been changed, but they were fairly neutral wooden pieces, that matched the bedframe. The bookshelves were bare of books. All the knick-knacks and various decorative pressed flowers had been removed as well. On the one hand, the room felt more like a blank slate than a guest room. On the other hand, the lack of personal touches made it look sterile.

“It looks like Mo-my mom did a bit of redecorating.” She stepped further into the room, leaving the suitcases she’d brought by the wardrobe and dresser.

Anna followed her into the room silently. She dropped her suitcases next to the bed and sat down on the wooden trunk at the foot of the bed. “I... I packed my old bed’s sheets,” she said idly, dragging her fingers along the green comforter. “But they won’t fit this size bed.”

“Oh.” Elsa blinked. “I guess this bed is a queen size, since it used to be the guest bedroom.” She glanced around, then walked over to shut the door behind them. “Your bed is actually bigger than mine, actually,” she added.

Anna didn’t respond, then hefted a suitcase onto the bed and unzipped it. Elsa winced as the first thing she pulled out were her old sheets, which appeared to be in a pattern of flowers made up of swirls and paintstrokes. An idea struck Elsa as Anna hugged the sheets close, pulling them up to her face and inhaling deeply.

“Before we put them away,” Elsa said, “I think the pillowcases will fit. Let’s give it a try.”

After she pulled her face out of the sheets, Anna raised her chin and, for the first time since they’d arrived, met Elsa’s gaze. Her mouth was tight, but the tension in her eyes seemed to have faded since Elsa’s last glimpse of them. After a moment, the tiniest twitch at the corners of her lips indicated a smile. “Are you sure that won’t ruin the aesthetic?”

Elsa scoffed. “Who cares? It’s your room. And I actually think the greens are a half-decent match, since there’s so many shades in the comforter.”

Anna unrolled the sheets and dug through them until she found the pillowcases as Elsa walked around to the other side of the bed. She wasn’t anticipating Anna throwing one to her, and it hit her in the face as she turned toward her.

She squeaked in surprise and, as the pillowcase fell down from her face to the bed, Elsa burst out laughing.

Across the bed, Anna’s wide-eyed expression froze for a moment before thawing into an apologetic smile. “That wasn’t intentional,” she said, hand flying to her mouth to cover what looked like a smile.

Elsa just shook her head. “Uh huh, sure it wasn’t.” She smiled and winked so that Anna knew she was kidding. After a flash of concern crossed her face, Anna seemed to get it and lowered her hand to smile, ever so slightly, back at her.

“Let’s see if the pillowcases fit,” Elsa said, pulling the current case off the pillow. From the direction of the door, she thought she heard a small thump, like a suitcase being gently set down.

As they continued to unpack, Elsa tried her best to help. She would open suitcases and sort clothing on to the bed, where Anna would take it and move things to her dresser or wardrobe. When they finished the bags they’d brought upstairs with them, she checked outside the door and brought in the various luggage and boxes her father had unloaded outside.

Despite the humorous moment with the pillowcase, Elsa felt Anna tighten up as time went on. She still smiled, if only just, at some of Elsa’s comments, but she kept her back to Elsa as she worked, and by the time they reached the boxes, Elsa kept wondering if Anna needed some space.

She’d picked up a small box and was opening it up when Anna grabbed her shoulder abruptly, pulling her away from the bed.

“Anna what...?” Elsa turned to face her and was struck by the intensity of Anna’s expression.

“Not that one,” Anna snapped, pulling the box away from Elsa and quickly stashing it inside the bedside table.

“I... I’m sorry,” Elsa whispered.

Anna looked away, shoulders curling inward. “S’okay,” she murmured.

Elsa was about to ask if Anna wanted her to leave when she heard the garage door opening. “Oh, Mom’s home,” she said, turning toward the door. She’d taken a step toward it when she paused, turning back toward Anna. “Um,” she said, “do you want to come down with me or...?”

Expression absent again, Anna’s gaze flicked around the room until she pulled her baseball cap low. “I’ll go downstairs,” she mumbled.

Elsa nodded, then started out the door and down the stairs. She was at the bottom quicker than she’d intended, unable to keep herself from hurrying a little bit. She hadn’t seen her mother for days, but it would be cruel to rush into her arms when Anna, following behind, had no such luxury.

“Elsa!” All the coolness of demeanor had disappeared since the last time Elsa had seen her. Calling her name, her mother had nothing but a wide smile on her face.

And although Anna was trailing behind, not halfway down the stairs, Elsa couldn’t keep from embracing her mother tightly.

“I missed you, Mom,” she whispered.

“And I, you,” she replied before pulling back, straightening up. Her gaze moved past Elsa to focus on Anna. She cleared her throat. “Anna,” she said formally. “I’m sorry we have to meet under such circumstances.” Her happiness at seeing Elsa had entirely transmuted into an appropriate level of sadness. “You have my condolences.”

Anna reached the bottom of the staircase and glanced around awkwardly. “Thanks,” she mumbled.

“I, ah, took the liberty of tidying up the room for you,” Elsa’s mother continued. Her expression shifted to appraisal as she saw Elsa reach out and take Anna’s hand, but she said nothing. “If there’s something else you need for it, just let us know. And, um,” here Elsa noticed a faint blush color her cheeks. “I also picked something up for you today, since I know the bed is rather large for just one person your age. Just give me a moment.”

She disappeared around the corner toward the kitchen, where she’d likely left the present after coming in from the garage. Anna nudged her shoulder against Elsa’s arm.

“I don’t know what it could be,” Elsa whispered.

Several seconds later, Elsa’s mother reappeared holding an enormous stuffed retriever. It had to be at least five feet long. The corners of her mouth pinched in a way that told Elsa she knew exactly how ridiculous it seemed. “I know the bed is a bit large,” she said, “so I picked up something to maybe take up some of the space, make it less lonely.”

Anna stepped forward to take the dog. Her mumbled, “Thank you,” was barely audible, as she spoke into the stuffed animal. “I’ll... take this upstairs.”

Elsa blinked for a few moments at the sight of Anna waddling up the stairs with the oversized stuffed animal. “Where did you even find that?” she asked her mother, following her back toward the kitchen.

“Does it matter?” came the reply. “In any case, it’s about time for dinner. I think we should go with something simple.” She walked into the pantry and glanced about. “How about spaghetti?” she called back.

Wincing, Elsa shook her head. “Can we not?”

“Burritos?”

“I thought you wanted simple.”

“Okay fine,” her mother said, “we’ll just have sandwiches.”

Elsa brightened up. “Actually, that sounds perfect! We can each make our own. I... I don’t know what kind of foods Anna likes, so it works out well if she can make her own sandwich.”

It was only as everyone was sitting down to dinner that Elsa began to wonder if maybe the sandwich-dinner was sending the wrong message. It was hardly the most extravagant meal, and maybe it would have been better to do something that really showed that Anna was welcome.

At the same time, maybe it was bad form to do a really nice dinner after her mother had just died.

But since her mother died, wasn’t it worse to have her make her own sandwich? What in the world had she been eating with Merida’s family?

Elsa’s thoughts were chasing themselves in a circle, and she regretted having packed the worry stone in her back, afraid to lose it out of her pocket while going through the airport and flying. She’d just debated the option of asking to be excused so she could fish it out of her bag upstairs when her mother broke the awkward dinner table silence.

“Anna, would you please remove your hat while at the dinner table?”

Her neck twinged with pain as Elsa whipped her head up to look between her mother and Anna. The former was looking with polite expectation across the table. The latter was ducking her head and distinctly not removing her hat. A quick glance across the table from Elsa showed that her father’s expression mirrored her own: indecision.

Elsa pushed past it first. “Um, Mom?” She waited until her mother had turned to look at her. “I know that hats aren’t normally allowed at the table, but, um, could we make an exception?” Her eyes flickered over to meet her father’s, briefly. “Just for, um, a few days?”

Anna turned her head and looked at Elsa for a few seconds before looking back down. She absently rubbed at her shoulder as she resumed eating.

“I think... that will be fine,” Elsa’s mother said. “At least for a few days.”

They ate the rest of dinner in an awkward silence, though Elsa noted how Anna would roll or rub at her shoulder periodically. It was only after several rounds of this, however, that Elsa remembered that Anna hadn’t had a chance to ice it that day.

Her father seemed to be of the same mind, asking Anna if she needed a cool pack after dinner.

Elsa almost felt guilty as she closed the freezer. “I already got one out, actually, Dad.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh, well, that’s good.” Turning back to Anna, he asked, “Would you like me to, um, help you with that? We could sit and I could hold it against your shoulder?”

Anna didn’t respond immediately, so Elsa cleared her throat. “No, that’s fine, Dad,” she said. “I’ve got this one. I still need to show her around the house anyway.”

Before her parents could make any comments, Elsa steered Anna out of the kitchen. “Here you go,” she said, placing the cool pack on her injured shoulder. As she gave a tour of the house, Elsa kept an arm around Anna’s shoulders to hold it in place. When it came to show her the basement, she regretted the awkward positioning slightly, but they managed the stairs alright.

Anna didn’t say much as they went around the house. When Elsa asked if she wanted to spend any time downstairs, she just leaned closer, so Elsa took them back to Anna’s room when the tour was done and the cool pack returned to the freezer.

They resumed unpacking, and, as Elsa helped, she felt a swelling of emotion in her chest. She’d done it, she’d managed to help Anna, and she knew she could keep on doing it. She would and could be the one who made their house into a home. She’d protect and nurture Anna through the grief, and in the end, they’d be... something to one another.

Family? That sounded right, but when she tried to apply the label, “sisters,” it just felt wrong. She angrily yanked a tank top out of a suitcase and folded it as the words, ‘she’s not your sister,’ echoed in her head. When Anna opened up a box full of books, however, Elsa quickly found herself distracted, rushing over to talk about titles and help her arrange the bookshelf, all thoughts of labels gone for the night.

Chapter Text

Elsa procrastinated as they finished unpacking Anna’s room. After two days of care, looked nice, much more homey than the blank slate it had been before. Anna had even begun to leave some dirty clothes on the floor, which helped for some reason. Elsa had distracted herself by running to her room to get a notebook. She brought it back to Anna’s room and started writing down things Anna needed, like a laundry basket.

Elsa procrastinated as she said goodnight that evening, giving Anna a lengthy hug before reminding her what time they needed to be up for school. She lingered in Anna’s doorway until she received a questioning look, then went to bed.

Elsa forced herself to sleep to avoid thinking too much. She had practice in sleeping despite anxiety, and she put it to good use.

The next morning, Elsa woke up before her alarm and showered first. After dressing, she woke up Anna, then went downstairs to make breakfast before her obligations caught up with her.

She made breakfast for both of them, then for her parents, who showed up with expressions of surprise and half-suspicious comments about how Elsa wasn’t usually up quite so early as this. Elsa put on her best responsible smile and volunteered to do their breakfast dishes as she hurried them both off to work.

Then the kitchen was empty, so Elsa made lunches to take to school too, with Anna’s sandwich just how she liked it. When Anna finally made her way downstairs, Elsa decided that breakfast was the perfect time to reiterate some key points about their school, going over the reputations of every teacher she knew and speculating on Anna’s class schedule.

Elsa kept explaining, repeating herself, as they walked down to their bus stop only to find that, once they arrived, she’d legitimately run out of things to say, of filler to keep her procrastinating.

And, of course, due to Elsa’s efforts to keep busy that morning, they’d arrived to the bus stop several minutes earlier than necessary.

Elsa was naturally inclined toward doing what she was asked. She followed rules and did her chores and homework in a timely fashion. She was bad at procrastinating in that she could only do so as long as there was something else of relative importance she could substitute in place of what she was avoiding.

So she cleared her throat. “Um, Anna?”

Anna tilted her head to make brief eye contact with Elsa from under her hat. (Earlier she’d just shrugged when Elsa told her that they weren’t allowed to wear hats at school. Elsa had dropped the topic.)

When the glance wasn’t enough to prompt Elsa to speak, Anna said, “Yeah?”

“Um,” Elsa began, “Yesterday I was speaking with my parents. About, um.” She glanced down the street. No bus visible yet. No excuses. “Um, just about... stuff. The, um, cover story, I guess.”

“What cover story?” Anna’s voice held its usual flat tones, but a lilt of curiosity still snuck in.

“For, um, well...” Elsa trailed off. A faint heat rose in her cheeks and she wished she’d told her parents to tell Anna themselves. “The cover story for you.”

“For me.” Anna’s voice had gone flat.

“For your being here.” Now that she’d managed to start, the rest of the words pressed at the back of Elsa’s throat and tumbled out in a rush. “They didn’t want to presume you’d want to be seen as their daughter or whatever so, um. They’re going with the story that they’re fostering you because you’re a recently orphaned kid we know through some tangential, ambiguous connections?”

Anna was gazing at the ground, hat shading her eyes.

Elsa couldn’t keep looking at her. She turned her head upward to watch the sky. “It was supposed to give you the most flexibility,” she mumbled. Her parents’ justifications felt thin standing next to Anna in the brisk Spring air; Elsa shivered. “That way if... if you wanted to, to address...” Elsa couldn’t bring herself to say ‘them,’ because they both knew it wasn’t about both of Elsa’s parents. It was really just about Adgar. “To... to address, uh, more parentally, it would be open to you, but you... you don’t have to. That would be fine too.”

Silence and a mild, misty rain drifted through the air. Eventually, Anna straightened up somewhat. “That’s the story your school has?”

“Yeah?” Honestly, Elsa wasn’t sure, but it was probable. Her parents were thorough.

“Just checking,” Anna said. She flashed Elsa a sardonic smile before stepping forward to get on the bus first.

Elsa nearly jumped; she hadn’t noticed it pulling up.

Hurrying behind Anna as they got onto the bus, Elsa briefly wondered if she’d sit in a row with someone already in it. There were certainly enough people glancing at the new girl with interest that she probably wouldn’t be rejected. But, instead, Anna took an empty row somewhere in the middle. She caught Elsa’s eyes for a moment, and her expression softened just enough that Elsa felt comfortable sitting down next to her.

They rode the rest of the way to school in a broken conversation. Anna looked out the window the whole time, but her hand drifted over to hold Elsa’s, just barely, about a minute after they left. Every time Anna squeezed her hand, Elsa would whisper a description of what they’d just passed, or give some geographical context to try and make her hometown a bit more familiar.

Once at school, the day passed in alternating waves of hurry and stillness. Time seemed to flash by whenever Elsa was with Anna. Giving Anna directions to her classes at the beginning of school seemed to end in moments. Sitting in class, waiting to get out and check on the redhead, lasted forever. Elsa passed the time by reviewing Anna’s class schedule in her head and re-routing the fastest way to get back to her from Elsa’s current class. They had ten minutes between classes, thankfully, to encourage students to stay after class to speak with a teacher if they needed to.

When lunch finally arrived, Elsa called over apologies to her friends as she passed by her usual table to sit with Anna, who had arrived earlier and chosen a seat at the end of a mostly-empty table.

Jane called out, “But, Elsa, you just got back!”

Elsa turned around. “I’m sorry,” she said, “We can talk more later, I promise!”

She hurried over to Anna, guilty at blowing her friends off (especially since she’d been away so long) and sat down opposite her. “I hope your sandwich is okay,” she said.

Anna shrugged, still opening up her lunch. “I’m sure it’s fine, Elsa,” she said. “It’s just a sandwich.”

Elsa began to unpack her lunch. “Okay...” she murmured. After fighting with herself a moment, Elsa glanced back at her usual table. Her friends had turned back to their conversation, but Jane was still half-turned, gazing at Elsa. She quickly turned away when their eyes met. Elsa watched her a moment longer before turning back toward Anna.

She was surprised to find Anna’s blue-green eyes trained on her with curiosity and an alertness that Elsa hadn’t seen much lately. “Who is she?” she asked, tilting her head in Jane’s direction. “She watched you all the way over, even when the rest of the table stopped.”

Elsa blushed. “Oh, that’s Jane.” The words sounded flat, and Elsa found herself possessed with guilt. Anna had no choice in how her emotions had been made bare to Elsa since they’d met. Though Elsa had confessed her anxiety to Anna years ago, and no one since then, she hadn’t offered any vulnerabilities since they’d met. It seemed unfair, somehow, that Elsa was in a position to hide herself while Anna wasn’t.

Spontaneously, she added, “Jane, um. We’re... I’m not certain, but we might be interested in one another.” Anna blinked. “I find her pretty,” Elsa blabbed. “She’s bookish and smart. We have English together.”

“Huh.” Anna was smiling, and she tilted her head to the side. “She seemed grumpy that you didn’t sit over there. I think that means that she likes you too.”

“We can catch up later,” Elsa said, glad her blush was finally fading. “I’m here to make sure you’re adjusting well to school.”

A sense of distance started to creep into Anna’s expression. She looked away, eyes seeming to lose some of their light. “It’s school,” she said, tugging on the brim of her hat. “School is school. I’ll adjust to eating my sandwich. Go talk.”

Elsa hated herself a little for the immediate smile that jumped to her mouth. She bit her lip to clamp down on it. “Are you sure?” she asked.

Anna nodded, taking a bite. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

“If you’re certain...” Elsa said, getting out of her chair.

Anna didn’t say anything until Elsa was a few steps away when she stammered, “Y-you’re coming back right?”

Elsa turned back. “Always.”

“Okay,” Anna said. For a moment, the haze faded from her eyes as she looked at Elsa, and everything seemed pretty okay.

Before the moment could end, before she watched sadness cross Anna’s face again, Elsa back toward Jane and her friends’ table. Maybe, if Anna was okay with it, she could introduce them another time. For now, Elsa reviewed the edited version of her time in California for Nationals and tried to recapture her excitement for it.

It felt a lifetime away, however, even when Jane’s smile made her blush during her retelling. The girl whose life revolved around skating felt as distant as the look in Anna’s eyes. She told her story as best she could, but it felt second-string to the redhead sitting at the other table, and Elsa filed the feeling away to deal with later.

Chapter Text

Elsa has always been good at adopting new habits. Her mother had given her a book on them, some previous birthday or other present-giving-occasion. Elsa already knew she needed good habits for her skating. She always stretched, even on days she didn’t have practice. She kept her skates in good condition. She was consistent with her practice, even when one of her parents was tired and enticed her with a night off so they could stay home. Elsa would remind them about how she was trying to keep good habits, and they invariably broke down and drove her to practice.

The book had told her about non-skating good habits, like rising early even on days off, and about getting homework done early. Elsa had never been bad at these things, necessarily, but she’d since decided she preferred excellence and consistency to ‘not bad.’ She got into good habits and impressed her parents with her discipline.

It was no trouble to adapt her schedule by starting a new batch of habits to compliment her existing set.

Every morning, she rose a half hour earlier than before so she could shower first, then have time to leisurely get dressed, slipping her button necklace under her shirt (just another habit). She would enjoy a few minutes of morning quiet, then go rouse Anna.

She always double checked the day before rousing Anna. After one Saturday when she’d tried to wake the younger girl up at 5:30, she’d had to duck the giant stuffed dog being chucked at her face. After checking, Elsa would knock on the door first, then open the door and call out, “Anna? Anna it’s time to get up.” When Anna grunted, but didn’t get up, Elsa would open the blinds and sit on the bed next to her.

She allotted five minutes in her schedule to get Anna out of bed. Some mornings were harder than others. Most of the time, Anna just grumbled and, after a minute of Elsa rubbing her back, would bump her hip against Elsa’s and say, “I can’t get up if you don’t move.”

Other mornings, Anna would sigh and stare into space until Elsa had almost run out of ways to coax her out of bed. Then the distance would fade and she could be led to the bathroom to shower. Elsa wouldn’t go downstairs until the water started running, however.

On the worst mornings, Anna would just roll over and stare up at her with wide-awake eyes. Sometimes a few tears would roll down her cheeks, and Elsa would know. Then she would whisper, “I had a dream about the accident,” or “I miss her so much,” and Elsa would just hold her until her father shouted up that they were about to miss the bus. Those mornings, Anna wouldn’t shower and Elsa would just charge their lunches to her school account.

If the morning was typical, however, Elsa would remind Anna to brush her teeth before going downstairs. Since Anna’s first day, Elsa had stolen her mother’s habit of making school lunches. Even weeks later, when she came down to get her coffee, Elsa still caught her mother shoot her an odd look sometimes.

She would make their lunches too, having mastered exactly how scrambled Anna liked her eggs. She’d had to resist the urge to roll her eyes one Saturday, when her father had made them too dry. Anna hadn’t said anything, but Elsa had caught the hesitation in her expression.

At school, she phased out of checking on Anna between classes after the first week, but they still ate lunch together with Elsa’s friends. Jane sat on Elsa’s left. Anna sat on her right. (Sometimes Jane squeezed her hand before she left to go to class, but Elsa couldn’t count it as a habit because it wasn’t every time. She wished it was though.)

After school, she swung by Anna’s locker to meet up before they went to the bus. She would inquire about Anna’s day on their way home, asking after her homework as well.

Weeknight schedules varied, but Anna did her homework at the rink if Elsa had practice. Once they were home for good, they would pick a place (usually one of their rooms) to settle in for the night to finish up homework, read, or just relax.

Anna needed to ice her shoulder less and less as time went on, but Elsa asked every night, just in case.

One night, she was down in the kitchen, getting the cool pack, when someone cleared their throat from the hallway.

Elsa jumped, but it was just her mother.

“I’m sorry to have startled you,” she said, walking into the kitchen. “I was just coming into the kitchen for some hot chocolate.” She held up an empty mug.

Elsa smiled, relaxing as she shut the freezer. “Oh, okay. Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting you.” She tilted her head. “But March is almost over. It’s a bit late for hot chocolate.”

She just received a smile in return. It was an old joke. Elsa’s mother had a weakness for hot chocolate, well past the end of winter. Elsa was about to leave the kitchen with the cold pack when her mother cleared her throat again.

“Elsa, if I could have a word...?”

Elsa stopped and set the cold pack on the counter as she turned back around. “Certainly, Mom.”

“You’re... you’ve been fantastically supportive of Anna,” she said. At first, Elsa wasn’t sure how to interpret her tone, but she was smiling, so Elsa smiled back.

“I’m trying,” she said, shrugging.

A nod. “You succeed in a myriad of ways,” she said. “And I’m very proud of the responsibilities you’ve taken on, but... Elsa...” She sighed. “I just worry that you’re trying to fill a gap that you shouldn’t be trying to fill, that you can’t fill.”

Elsa crossed her arms. “I’m just doing my best to help. I’m helping Anna adjust and trying to ease the transition into being here.”

“I know, and you’re doing a marvelous job of that.” Another pause. “I just worry that you’re trying to fill a hole that isn’t possible to stopper.”

A flash of temper twitched inside Elsa. “At least I’m trying to be a part of her life at all,” she snapped. “You and Dad don’t even care.”

Her mother’s voice tightened. “We care, Elsa, but we are in a more complicated situation than you. It’s not necessarily a good idea for either of us to just swoop in and try to fix everything. Coming from us, it’s not... the same.” She seemed to be struggling to find words.

Elsa just nodded. “Mmmhmm, of course. I get it.” She grabbed the cool pack. “But I’ve got to run. Have a si—a-Anna to take care of. Her shoulder and all.” While the word sister caught in the back of her throat, Elsa smoothly exited the kitchen. As she went upstairs, she thumbed the worry stone in her pocket and was breathing calmly by the time she got back to her room and settled the cool pack on Anna’s shoulder.

“Okay, let’s check over your math homework,” she said, “just to make sure you got everything. You have a test on Friday, don’t you?”

Chapter Text

“Okay, you can get this stuff done tonight easily,” Elsa said, looking over Anna’s agenda. She couldn’t tell if Anna had abysmal handwriting by nature or if the messiness was an expression of her apathy. She only wondered the latter because, on Anna’s better days, her assignments were noted in a slightly neater hand.

“Mmnkay.” Anna was lying facedown on her bed. Today was not one of Anna’s better days.

Elsa sorted through Anna’s backpack and folders until she found the right worksheets for math. A quick reference to the index showed her where they corresponded in Anna’s math textbook, so she opened it to the right spot and left it on the desk. “I’ve got your math homework ready to go,” she said. Math seemed to be one of Anna’s harder subjects, so Elsa tried to have her get it done first, out of the way. The evening could be all downhill from there.

Anna didn’t move.

For Elsa’s part, her own homework was set up and ready to start. She’d borrowed, with permission, the spare desk from the other guest room to set up in Anna’s. It worked well for her to borrow for her homework, since, unlike Elsa’s desk, there wasn’t room for two at Anna’s.

She sighed. “Anna...  I can help you but I can’t do it for you. C’mon.” She walked over and sat on her usual spot, rubbing Anna’s back. “You know it always gets easier once you get started.”

She sat for a minute, rubbing Anna’s back as the younger girl didn’t respond. Elsa resisted the urge to glance back at ‘her’ desk, where her own homework remained un-started. Frankly, she had more to do than Anna did, and she needed to get more done than was just due tomorrow, because of her practice schedule. And it needed to get done but she needed to support Anna, and if she just went and started her homework, it was a complete gamble whether that would galvanize Anna to start or if the redhead would just lie on the bed, unmoving.

Elsa reached into her pocket to thumb the worry stone, slowing her breathing down as she rubbed Anna’s back with her other hand.

Eventually, Anna turned and curled closer to Elsa. “I don’t think my math teacher likes me,” she mumbled.

Elsa just smiled. “I don’t think Mr. Grimsby likes anyone,” she said, tugging lightly on Anna’s hands, drawing the girl to her feet. “I had him last year and he doesn’t even like me. And c’mon.” She winked. “What’s not to like, right?”

Anna responded to the joke by rolling her eyes. “Your modesty for one,” she said, standing up.

“Why be modest when you can be perfect,” she said, flipping her braid over her shoulder. She resisted the urge to sigh with relief as she sat down to start her homework. She couldn’t help but smile, however, at the comforting sound of Anna settling down at her desk, and the scritching of pencil on paper that meant she had, at least, started her homework, because that meant Elsa could do the same.

They’d been working for just five minutes when a knock sounded at the door. “Anna?”

Out of surprise, Elsa responded first. “Yes?”

Her father opened the door and smiled. “I hope I’m not interrupting too badly.”

He was. Anna was just hitting her stride with her math homework. Elsa just tilted her head. “Why are you home early?”

“To, ah, speak with Anna, actually.” He inclined his head toward the redhead. “If you don’t mind stepping out for a few minutes, Elsa? Your homework will be here when I’m done, I promise.”

Yes, but it wouldn’t have been worked on in the meantime and Elsa hated re-setting up once she’d laid out her books for the afternoon. She smiled. “Not a problem.” Unless whatever he said upset Anna and she lost all momentum on her homework. “Just let me know when you’re done,” she said getting up.

As she closed the door behind her, Elsa stiffened as she saw her father sit in ‘her’ chair at the extra desk.

She tried to stay away. Really, she did. Elsa went to her room and grabbed an extra pencil and a notepad. You know, just in case. And she lingered by the top of the stairs to gaze out the foyer window. If she paused and listened for the sound of her mother on the phone with a client, downstairs in the office, Elsa surely hadn’t done so on purpose.

But, as she swung back around to Anna’s room and softened her footsteps before standing beside the door, Elsa knew that she wouldn’t be caught as she quieted her breathing and sat down outside.

Her pencil made no sound as she re-wrote of afternoon schedule to account for her father’s interruption. Not as a cover, no of course not. It actually calmed her down as she strained to listen to the conversation on the other side of the door.

Her father’s tone was quieter than usual, so she only caught pieces.

There was a bit about Anna’s mother, but she could only clearly hear, “—sure she would want you to—” before the topic seemed to shift.

It was only when Elsa caught the name, “Sitron,” and “riding lessons,” that she remembered what her father had discussed with Merida. Elsa started counting backward through the weeks and realized that next weekend, in addition to being Anna’s 13th birthday, would also fit the bill for the time her father had arranged for Merida to deliver Sitron.

She pressed closer to the door, wishing there was a muscle she could stretch to hear harder. She picked up on her father saying something about, “a place to stable him” and then, “So I came home early to—”

His words mixed together at the end, but his pitch raised as if in a question.

“YES!” Anna yelled.

Elsa squeaked and threw herself away from the door, wincing.

It was easy to hear now. Her father laughed and asked, “Is it alright to go now? Can you finish your homework later?”

“Of course!”

A thump vibrated through the floor. Elsa guessed that Anna had bounded to her feet.

“Alright,” her father said. “Why don’t you grab a coat then. We’ll head over immediately.”

Elsa quickly stood up and took a few steps away from the door, then turned around (as though she were just walking over) a moment before it opened. Her father seemed a bit surprised to see her there, but not suspicious.

“Elsa,” he said, “Anna and I are going to go visit some stables across town, where Anna will be resuming her riding lessons soon.” He smiled. “I’m sorry to interrupt your homework session, but I’m certain she can catch up on her work later.”

Frankly, Elsa had some doubts about that, but she nodded. “Oh, no, that’s fine.”

“We’re going to see the barn where we’re going to stable my horse!” Anna practically floated out of the room. “He bought Sitron, Elsa! And Merida is bringing him this weekend, for my birthday!”

Despite herself, Elsa couldn’t help but smile. Anna was the happiest she’d ever seen her. “That’s fantastic,” she said, trying to summon the proper level of surprise for the news. “I can’t wait to meet this horse of yours.”

“You will this weekend,” her father said, ruffling her hair, then sweeping it back from her face as he passed by her. “We’re all going out to the stables to meet up with Merida on Saturday for Anna’s birthday. She’ll get a chance to ride and you and Idunn can meet her horse.”

“I can’t wait,” Elsa said as they made their way down the stairs. Anna skipped the last four, vaulting herself over the side railing. Elsa giggled as her father half-heartedly reprimanded her. Then wave of anxiety rolled through her and she fidgeted, reaching for the worry stone in her pocket. “Just get back at a reasonable hour,” she called after him, “It’s a school night!”

He cast her an odd glance. “I’m aware, Elsa. We’ll be back before dinner.”

Elsa just nodded, embarrassed, and withdrew from the railing. Without thinking, she wandered back into Anna’s room and sat at ‘her’ chair, blankly staring at her homework, pencil poised to begin, until she heard the garage door open, then close. She sat silently, but couldn’t hear the car pull away.

Abruptly, Elsa planted her elbows on the desk and buried her hands in her hair. She pulled back at her hair until it hurt, then slammed her hands forward. The shorter strands at her temples fell around her face, and she hugged herself, trying to parse out what her feelings about the whole situation meant.

Sure, her father could go and buy Anna a horse, but he wouldn’t be there tonight to make sure her homework got done.

And he could bask in the perfection of this one gift, but Elsa knew by now that he wouldn’t be there when Anna’s wide smile faded and the distance crept into her eyes again.

The worry stone felt heavy in her pocket, but Elsa refused to hold it. She seethed for a long moment, embracing the anger behind her current anxiety. Because she didn’t want to calm down. This was unfair.

She straightened up and blinked.

“This... is unfair,” she said quietly, experimentally.

Immediately, she chastised herself for being so childish. It wasn’t as though saying words aloud made them any more true than words said in her head.

“This is so unfair,” she whispered.

But she couldn’t help how it felt more true.

She took a deep breath. It was unfair, but... at the same time, Anna was smiling. Anna was happy.

And what kind of... whatever-she-was... would Elsa be if she couldn’t at least be happy about that? Her father had succeeded where she’d failed. She’d been subtly prying for weeks, trying to figure out what Anna wanted for her birthday, wanted to do for her birthday.

Elsa returned to her homework, mindlessly completing proofs for math. Maybe she should have known better than to try. Anna’s birthday had always been the one time she got to connect with their father. Even with the changed circumstances, it would be good for Anna to at least have that stay constant.

Chapter Text

Anna’s laughter and light steps felt contagious. Despite her trepidation, Elsa couldn’t help but smile, uncertainly, as she trailed behind her father and mother, who in turn were following behind Anna.

She caught sight of Merida’s red hair before anything else. Elsa smiled as Anna actually leaped with joy before sprinting forward into her coach’s arms. It wasn’t until she got closer that Elsa noticed a stooped old woman standing next to them.

“Ah, hello again, Grandmother Fa,” her father said. “Allow me to introduce my wife, Idunn.” He gestured to her and Elsa hurried the last few steps over so she was standing on his other side when her father added, “And this is my daughter, Elsa.”

The tiny old woman gave them a once-over and huffed. “Not a bit of horse-sense among you. But it’s nice to meet you all the same, since Anna will be galavanting all around the stables for the next few years.” She started walking toward a large building with an open structure. “Come on this way. I don’t do birthday parties here, I’ve got some standards, but there’s a few places for you to sit as we get Sitron and Anna situated, then get them riding.”

Elsa looked all around as they drew closer to the building. A barn? A stable? Elsa had no idea what to call it, but there seemed to be stalls with horses inside them. And it smelled worse the closer they got. Merida and Anna, walking alongside Grandmother Fa, didn’t seem to notice or care as they chatted animatedly about Sitron, but Elsa noticed her mother’s mouth tighten

Elsa wrinkled her nose. Figure skating smelled, at worst, like sweaty people in spandex. Elsa definitely preferred that to the smells of horse, hay, sweat, leather, and... a bit of shit?

“I’ve cleared the north track for us,” Grandmother Fa mentioned to Anna. “And Merida saddled up your horse before you got here.” She gestured to a few benches alongside the fence and glanced back toward Elsa and her parents. “You can sit there, or wander around the track,” she said. “Just don’t bother any of the horses and we’ll be fine.”

The old woman turned back to Anna and adjusted her black headband before raising one eyebrow. “I went over the rules when you visited the other day. I expect you’ll remember them just fine.” Then she grinned. “I’ve heard quite a bit about your riding. If your shoulder is all better, let’s see what you’re made of!”

She unlatched the gate and Anna almost seemed to fly as she ran over to hug Sitron. The tan horse seemed just about as excited to see her, if Elsa interpreted his neigh correctly, and the way he tossed back his head.

For her part, Elsa quietly took a seat on a bench one over from her parents and watched as Merida and Grandmother Fa call out instructions or criticisms (Elsa couldn’t quite hear them, and what she heard didn’t make much sense) to Anna as she rode around.

At first, whenever she rode by the side near the benches, Anna would wave or flash a smile in their direction. Elsa would wave back. As time went on, however, Anna’s expression shifted from simple elation to something more complicated. She was always too fast or too far for Elsa to get a good read, but it resembled the kind of focus she saw in other skaters when they were in the zone.

Eventually, they started walking Anna and Sitron through around. Grandmother Fa seemed to be saying something about the track’s hurdles. Were they called hurdles? Elsa was pondering the question when movement caught her attention out of the corner of her eye.

A girl about her age with black hair pulled into a messy bun was walking a horse away from the barn (stable?).

She seemed a bit familiar, and Elsa thought she’d seen her around school. Because they were allowed to walk around the track, Elsa decided to get up and jog over. “Uh, hey there?” she called out when she drew closer.

The other girl turned around. “Oh, hello,” she said. “You must be with the Anna girl.”

Elsa nodded, “Uh, yeah. I was just wondering if I knew you?” She shrugged. “You seem familiar.”

“I’ve seen you around school,” she replied. “My name’s Mulan.” She nodded toward Grandmother Fa at the center of the track. “I’m her granddaughter. It means a lot of work around the barn, but I get to ride a lot, so I don’t mind.”

The horse she was walking, a large black one, butted its head against Mulan’s shoulder. She just laughed. “Oh, and this is Kahn,” she said. “How rude of me.” She stepped aside as the horse took a step toward Elsa. “Why don’t you introduce yourself to him.”

“I’m Elsa,” she replied, cautiously raising her hand to the horse’s nose. She’d just barely petted his nose when the horse snorted and pulled his head back.

“Aaand I don’t really think I’m a horse person,” Elsa continued, taking a step back.

Mulan just shrugged. “Everyone is different. I’m sure you’ve got your thing I would be terrible at, so fair is fair.” She started walking Kahn away. “But I’ve got to get some stuff done, so I’ll see you around school!”

“See ya!” Elsa called before turning back to the ring. Anna was riding Sitron around, starting to take the jumps. Grandmother Fa had her hands planted at her hips as she called out various instructions.

It took Elsa another minute of watching Anna ride to realize that Merida had disappeared from the ring. She glanced around and was surprised to notice the curly-haired woman walking toward her along the outside of the fence. As she drew closer, Elsa at first assumed she would pass her by, but, instead, she stopped beside Elsa and adopted a similar pose, propping her elbows on the fence and leaning over slightly. It worked a bit better for Merida because she a bit taller than Elsa.

They stood in silence together, watching Anna ride, before Merida cleared her throat. “It’s been a rough couple months, but she’s held together alright.”

“Yeah,” Elsa said. And, overall, Anna was certainly better. But still, Anna’s nightmares came to mind along with the nights she would just lie in bed, unable to be coaxed to homework no matter Elsa’s pleadings.

A brief silence, and then Merida cleared her throat. “I know it can’t be all sunshine for either of you, but I’m glad you’ve been there to support her.” She nodded toward Anna riding Sitron. “And now that she’s got her riding back, I expect everything will get even better with time.”

“I hope so,” Elsa said. She couldn’t help but smile, watching Anna ride. Still, a thread of doubt wound its way around her heart. Maybe Anna wouldn’t need her anymore, or want her as close. Frankly, she seemed happier riding than she’d ever been with Elsa, even during her best moments of clarity, when her eyes sparkled and she told jokes that had Elsa doubled over with laughter.

“The riding will be good for you too, lass,” Merida said, glancing down at her. “I can guess, based on how you acted around her at my house, that you’ve taken care of her the most. Frankly, your pa isn’t quite the type.”

Normally, Elsa would have defended her father, even if the criticism was true. But she couldn’t find it within herself to do so this time. She just shrugged.

“It’s good for you,” Merida continued, “because no matter how you support and love a person, you can’t be the thing that livens them up, the thing that gives them a life they wanna live.”

Elsa glanced up at her. She felt, suddenly, extremely tired. “But... but what the only reason she gets out of bed in the mornings is because I’m there? Every morning?”

A shadow crossed over Merida’s face before she answered. “Elsa,” she said, “there’s nothing wrong with helping someone with their dailies, especially after something like their mother dying. But you’ve gotta know the difference between helping her up out of bed and being the thing that livens her to stay awake.”

“Yeah... I’m just not sure what to do sometimes. Anna started making friends with some people at school that I’m just not sure about,” Elsa said, running a hand through her hair. “And I guess sometimes I just don’t know where I’m supposed to strike that difference with her, between helping and being the reason?”

“Nobody’s meant to know everything,” Merida said, tossing some of her voluminous hair over her shoulder. “And it’s about time she started making her own friends here. She’s thirteen now, and she’ll do as she pleases. My mother knows I certainly did.” She chuckled before raising an eyebrow at Elsa. “But did you really expect her to just fit right in with your friends?”

“No,” Elsa said. “Of course not, I just....” She’d hoped so. “I just thought there could be more overlap, maybe?” Sure, Elsa got her up in the mornings and walked through her homework at night, but... they didn’t seem to be working out well as school friends and that just kind of sucked.

Merida gave her a pat on the back. “You’ll find your overlap. You’ll figure out where the two of you fit as sisters. It’ll just take time. For now, just keep pursuing what made you, well, you, before Anna got here. You skate, right?”

Elsa nodded. A slight smile tugged at her lips because skating was just wonderful. And because, due to their location, she couldn’t help but remember that skating smelled much, much better. “It’s my ‘thing’ if there’s anything that qualifies,” she said.

“Good, good. Just keep up with that, then. Do your thing and support Anna doing her thing. You won’t find yourself if you spend all your time trying to be ‘there’ for Anna.” Merida shrugged. “Figure out your sister thing as you go, but don’t neglect your friends. If it’s your cup of tea, date or kiss some people, but never let yourself get pressured into it.”

A faint blush colored Elsa’s cheeks. On Thursday, she and Jane had kissed, just for a minute, under the bleachers like a teen movie. Elsa was quite certain it was her cup of tea.

Merida’s lips twitched toward a knowing smile, but she didn’t say anything, for which Elsa was grateful. It was only Saturday, and she was enjoying her one little secret remaining as such.

“In any case,” Merida continued. “Just... try to strike a good balance.” She gestured out to where Anna was riding. “I can’t tell you a think about figure skating, but in horseback riding, you need to figure out your point of balance with your horse. You don’t want to bounce around like a sack of potatoes. Your horse is already balanced, but they need to account for your weight while you’re riding. To give them a hand, you need to figure out where to put that weight and stay in balance, especially when jumping.” She smiled. “See if you can see Anna’s point of balance the next time she comes around.”

They watched in silence as Anna did another loop. Elsa cleared her throat. “Um... I didn’t see anything.”

Merida chuckled. “That’s alright too. When it comes to you and Anna, try to find a point of balance with her. Dont’ try to force it. Just let things come naturally. You’ll figure out what you mean to one another, and from then on, everything will fall into place.”

“I hope so,” Elsa whispered.

Merida just gave her a pat on the back before turning to watch Anna ride.

Elsa watched too, looking for the elusive balance point that Merida noted effortlessly. But no matter how many times Anna looped past them, Elsa never seemed to spot it.

.

Section II End

Chapter Text

Section III

.

Idunn was a good woman, or at least she tried to be. She had risen up out of a less-than-pristine family to go to a good college. She’d picked the right major and she’d networked with all the right people.

She’d dated the right guy, the kind who made all the same right choices she had. They eventually got married and then, well, she’d stuck it out after the affair. It would have been unbearable to undo all those right choices, and.... they had worked things out, right?

It was better to endure months of apologies and couples’ therapy than to go back to her sister and apologize, to say that she’d been right about Adgar.

So Idunn stayed and was a good mother, or at least she tried to be.

And if she’d been a little defensive about the existence of her husband’s other daughter, that wasn’t even unusual, really. Plenty of wives would have been worse about it, but Idunn kept her negativity reined in to only the occasional bout of bitterness.

Of course, even that small indulgence soured when The Other Woman died.

Idunn had been the one to suggest that Adgar leave, that he fly back the next day to go settle things. She told him she would make a room ready, because despite her issues with The Other Woman, Anna’s existence wasn’t her fault.

But it was still a reminder, and sometimes Idunn wondered if her sister had really really been right. She picked up the phone and called her, on the second day of being alone, trying to get the house ready for the step-daughter she hadn’t planned on.

The number was old and an accented man informed her that she had the wrong number, that he’d had this one for years.

So Idunn got back to work, buying a bedset for a girl she’d never thought she’d meet.

Still, she was a good mother to Elsa, right?

Because if Elsa mothered and hovered over the Anna girl, taking the place Idunn had hesitated to step into, that meant Idunn done a good job. If Elsa could nurture Anna like that, then surely Idunn had set the example, mothering Elsa so that she could now pay that care forward.

Except that, as the months passed, Idunn found that, in becoming a mother, Elsa left no room to have one herself. She no longer needed Idunn to make her breakfast, or to ask her about her homework. She had never needed reminders to practice or stretch for skating. She stopped asking for advice about friends. When Idunn tried to insert herself in the most token of manners, offering, perhaps, a reminder that she knew Elsa didn’t need, her daughter would just nod stiffly

“I know,” she would say.

And Idunn knew that she knew, but she could see that her daughter was not nearly as put-together as it seemed. She heard, sometimes, the way Elsa’s breathing quickened, and the bags that showed up under her eyes. She saw a light under Elsa’s door sometimes, at three in the morning, and Idunn would put a stop to some all-nighter for a paper due in two weeks.

At least Elsa was getting her homework done, right?

Aside from enforcing the occasional rule and cooking the occasional dinner, her actual role of ‘mother’ seemed more unwanted with each passing month, and she couldn’t bring herself to elbow in where she obviously wasn’t wanted.

But this was the one mothering lesson Elsa didn’t seem to absorb.

Idunn had known enough to step back, to stop trying to mother where she wasn’t wanted.

Elsa didn’t, and Idunn could see resentment growing behind Anna’s eyes, the same that flashed in Elsa’s when Idunn tried to push into her life.

No matter how many times she pulled Elsa aside, however, to try and mother in this one small way, her daughter never seemed to understand. She would say “I know, I know, I know,” to everything.

Maybe Elsa did know, but couldn’t put it into practice for some reason.

As Elsa’s seventeenth birthday drew closer, Idunn could do nothing but watch the tensions build, knowing she could do nothing to stop their imminent collision.

She trusted, however, that Anna and Elsa would work it out, however the conflict materialized. She’d mothered Elsa into a kind, compassionate young woman, even if she couldn’t work out how to apply those traits quite right. And though she hadn’t mothered Anna, it was impossible to ignore the girl’s verve and vivacious spirit. She had an indomitable spirit that had only solidified and grown stronger in the years since her mother’s death, but with a soft core.

Idunn took a small satisfaction in the stuffed dog she’d given Anna. She didn’t have reason to enter the girl’s room often, but whenever she did, the gift was still in its same place, under the covers on the other side of Anna’s bed, making it a little cozier.

Chapter Text

Elsa set her pen down and rubbed at her eyes. “I swear this paper is going to kill me,” she murmured.

From the other desk, Anna snorted. “If you could act like a millennial for once and just typed up your first draft like a sane person, you might avoid that bout of carpal tunnel you seem intent on cultivating.”

Standing up, Elsa stretched out her hand. “I’m an old soul, Anna,” she said. “And besides, I think you really get something different when you start off a draft longhand. She sighed. “Plus my computer is in my room and we’re doing homework in your room so I have to do this draft longhand anyway.”

“The reason your hair is almost white is because you’re an old lady at heart.” Anna’s voice was light and Elsa sighed dramatically in response. “Take a break and rest your hand. You’ve been working on that damn thing for how long now?”

Elsa shrugged. “I have practice every day for the rest of the week, so I need to get it done now or I won’t have time for community service weekend with the NHS.”

Anna glanced over her shoulder and cast Elsa a withering glance. “Break. Now. I swear, you would forego sleep if it were the slightest bit optional.”

“I would.” Elsa walked over and flopped backward on Anna’s bed. She tried to still her rushing mind to the sound of Anna typing. A glance over confirmed that Anna was actually doing her homework, so she could at least relax about that, but she kept drifting back to outlining the paper in her head. If she didn’t get it done that night, she’d have to do her class readings over breakfast again.

That would just make her grumpy, because Elsa knew she was an old lady at heart who didn’t like her routines disrupted. She glanced over at Anna and reasoned that a quick break was still a valid break. “Maybe I’m old,” she said, “but that’s why this summer is gonna be so great. No more flying back and forth, back and forth between the continents for every single competition.” She smiled. If nothing else, the impending summer filled her mind like nothing else. Dedicated practice and competition interspersed with nothing but an extended European vacation. “It’s going to be absolutely wonderful,” she breathed.

“Mmmhmm.” Anna sounded preoccupied, though her typing had slowed.

“I’m an old soul, and we’re spending the summer in the Old World. What could be more romantic?” Elsa sat up. Her prospects for this summer had kept her alive for most of her junior year. They would see her through the rest of it. She could finish this paper tonight because it was the second-to-last one before Europe.

Elsa felt the furrow in her brow relax a bit. “And we don’t have to be apart this time. No more gaps where you’re still here while I’m at a competition, and no more fifteen-hour flights every other weekend.” No more anxiety and worrying about leaving Anna behind, no more distractions as she worried over the state the younger girl would be in when she got home.

She grinned and leaned back against Anna’s stuffed dog. “Now we can actually enjoy the sights instead of just rushing to skating rinks all the time.” Anna had come to a few competitions in the states, but it sucked to have her just sit there, unable to explore or enjoy anything but the spectator’s seats until it was time to go home. “We can take a week between competitions and just visit Paris. I can practice my French and we can pick another city for the week after.”

Anna cleared her throat. “Actually, I was kind of thinking of something a bit different.”

“Hm? Like what, Amsterdam? I didn’t take you for the type, Anna.” She chuckled a bit. Finally, everything was going to be fine. She would get her skating and she wouldn’t have to leave Anna. She could check in and wouldn’t have to endure the trans-atlantic flights to do so. It had taken forever to sort out Anna’s passport situation, but they’d received the confirmation today. Elsa could finally relax.

“Um, not quite.” Anna turned away from her computer and propped her arms on the back of her chair before resting her chin on them. “I guess... I’ve been wanting to tell you, but I was kind of planning on something else.”

A tingle ran down Elsa’s spine. Something felt off. “What... is it?” Anna glanced out the window and Elsa frowned. “No, just tell me, Anna. What’s wrong?”

“I... made some alternative plans for the summer,” Anna said carefully.

Elsa felt a pang as she noticed how cautious Anna sounded. “What... what other plans? As in... something instead of Europe?”

Anna nodded. “I... a summer camp. With riding and swimming and other stuff.”

“Oh.” Elsa felt as though she were deflating, but she forced herself to sit up as she continued to respond on autopilot. “Well we’ll have to talk to my parents I guess. It’s a little late in the spring to get you signed up but I think we’ll be able to work it out.”

A faint blush crossed Anna’s cheeks. “Actually, I already spoke to them. Er, a while ago. About the camp. I just needed confirmation and, um, today...”

Today Anna’s passport had finally come in the mail. Elsa stiffened. “Where is this camp, exactly?”

“Australia.”

Elsa blinked, incredulous.

Anna spun her chair around and crossed her arms. “I needed some space, that’s all. I needed some space to be myself for a summer.”

“Okay,” Elsa said, “but there’s needing space and then there’s... what? Secretly researching a camp in Australia? Going behind my back to get my parents on board with it and then.... then just sitting here while your passport got worked out?” Elsa heard her voice raising. “You just let me go on thinking that Europe was a go when you never planned on going?”

“I didn’t ‘go behind your back,’” Anna snapped, “because I don’t need your goddamn permission to speak to my guardians. I don’t need you to chaperone every conversation or convey my every need.”

“I’m not chaperoning you, I’m trying to be there for you, to stay close and make sure you’re okay.” Elsa ran a hand through her hair, brushing it back from her forehead. “Just... why didn’t you want to talk to me about this if it was so important to you?”

Anna growled. “Because I needed some space. I needed space from you. So no, of course I didn’t talk to you about it. I needed to figure it out on my own!”

“But you could have told me you needed space and I could have... have backed off or something!” Elsa wasn’t sure exactly when she’d stood up. “All I’ve wanted is to take care of you and make sure you’re okay, which is more than I can say for those people you call your friends!”

Elsa twitched when Anna rolled her eyes. “This? Again? God, Elsa. Would you just lay off of them already?” She took a deep breath and, before Elsa could respond, Anna continued in a calmer voice, “Look... You supported me when I couldn’t support myself. You’ve been there for me without fail, and I couldn’t have asked for a more supportive... I couldn’t have asked for a better support.”

Elsa felt her frustration calming as Anna sighed and tucked her hair behind her ear. “You were nothing but wonderful and supportive, but... I... I don’t need you to do that anymore. I... Yeah I’m still sad about my mom.” She shrugged. “Who the hell wouldn’t be? But... I’m not still freshly grieving anymore. I don’t need you to baby me all the time anymore, okay? You keep hovering like I’m gonna crash at any moment and I wish you had more confidence in my being healed.

“I do!” Elsa sat back down and slid her hands under her thighs to keep from fidgeting with them. She couldn’t grab the worry stone in her pocket because Anna would notice. “I have the utmost confidence in you and you’re so much happier and less depressed now. I know you’ve healed so much.” She caught and held Anna’s gaze. “But... I know that sometimes it still gets to you. I know you remember last month...” She trailed off and frowned. It had been a bad relapse. Anna had a particularly bad nightmare that triggered a weeklong melancholy. At the worst point, Elsa had lied and said Anna was sick so the younger girl could stay home.

“You’re one of the most vivacious people I know,” she continued, “but I also know that you fall down sometimes too.” Elsa’s lips twitched in a small smile. “So I’ve got to make sure I’m there for you, for those just-in-case moments. I want to make sure there’s always someone there to catch you.” Sure, Elsa had missed practice and gotten behind (relatively speaking) on some homework, but she’d managed to catch up by rescheduling her date with Tiana.

Anna slumped in her chair, dropping on leg off the chair so she could hug her other one closer, leaning her forehead against her knee. “And you’re completely ignoring the fact that I didn’t go to you first. I didn’t even want you to know, Elsa. I texted Mulan, Kida, and Eugene because I wanted my girlfriend and friends there, not my—my you.” She pulled her face off of her knee and sighed.

Anna’s resemblance to Elsa’s father was remarkable as she rubbed the bridge of her nose. “And yeah you—you heard me crying anyway. So you found out and stuff.”

At some point, Elsa had pulled the worry stone out of her pocket and started thumbing it. She turned so Anna couldn’t see her do it and glanced at the ceiling. “I guess... I guess I just don’t understand why you don’t want me there for you,” Elsa said. “

“Oh Elsa,” Anna breathed, “That’s not it at all. It’s complicated as fuck because I do want you there. I... nobody else gets me like you do. You know just what to say and I love that I can be myself around you.” Anna gestured abstractly with her hands. “It’s just complicated because I want you there but not... not like this? Not like how we do this Elsa-Anna thing now where you pretend everything is fine on your end when you’re falling apart.”

She shot Elsa a piercing look. “I don’t want you to be perfect for me when with both know you’re not. I hate this weird one-sided honesty thing. You don’t need to elevate yourself to be there for me. I want us to work out without the weird differential where you get upset when I ‘go around you.’” Elsa almost sighed with relief as Anna’s gaze softened. “But... I do want you. I want you to be there for me and I want everything that catches in the air between us in our best moments.”

Elsa felt breathless and, for a moment, she could feel the dynamic that Anna was talking about, that perfect balance, just out of reach. It hung between them like a haze.

“I want that too,” she whispered. “Come with me to Europe. Let’s take the summer off, away from all the extra obligations and distractions. I’ll skate, but that’ll be it. Let’s spend the summer together and figure out how we fit.”

Before she’d finished speaking, Anna was already shaking her head.

“No... I need to prove I can fly solo, without you hovering. I need space. I need to spend some time that isn’t in your shadow.” Anna’s gaze caught Elsa’s. “And you need some time without me. You use me as that one last thing to take care of, so you’re always too busy to hear yourself think, so you’re too busy to actually address your anxieties.”

Elsa gripped the worry stone until it dug into her palm painfully. The air felt chill around her and she snapped, “Well at least I’m not pushing away the one person trying, unconditionally, to be absolutely there for me.”

Distance washed over Anna’s expression, but different than the grieving kind. “That’s actually hilarious,” she said stonily, “because you’re doing that, literally, right now.”

“And you’re running away to fucking Australia because, what?” Elsa felt her temper rising and she hated it. She never let herself get mad. “Because you think I should open up more? When you’re running off so you don’t have to?” It felt terrible and liberating because she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d let herself be anything more than frustrated.

“It’s more than that,” Anna said, standing up. “Just because I haven’t spelled out every single one of my reasons doesn’t mean I don’t have them!”

Elsa was standing before she could help herself. “And if you had just told me about this, I would have known your reasons! We would have talked about them! I could have been a part of this too!”

“And part of why I didn’t tell you was because I knew you’d do this,” Anna said, gesturing around them. “You’d basically make it all about you and then you’d take issue with the reasons I did give you.”

“Well I wouldn’t be ‘doing this’ if you hadn’t gone behind my back in a bid to literally leave the country! Hard to believe you want us to work out with that logic.”

“Augh!” Anna slammed a hand against her desk. “We’re never gonna work out unless we get some fucking space because you actually believe yourself about the ‘going behind your back’ bullshit! And yes, it’s absolute bullshit, Elsa, because you’re not my fucking mother!”

A harsh moment lingered in the silence afterward. Nausea curled in Elsa’s stomach.

“So get out,” Anna whispered, pointing at the door. “I’ll pretend we’re sisters for a moment. Get the fuck out of my room.”

Elsa turned on her heel and walked out. She went to her room and sat at her desk, staring at nothing until she heard the floor creak outside her door.

By the time she opened it to look, there was nobody there, just her homework in a neat pile on the hardwood. Elsa stared at it for a moment. She’d forgotten that it existed for a bit.

That meant she was behind schedule. A rush of adrenaline spurred her to pick the books and notebooks up. She forced all thoughts of implications aside, such as who had left it outside her door and what it meant that she was doing her homework alone, behind schedule.

She hesitated as her hand picked up the pen to keep writing the paper longhand. It would take longer to keep up the first draft that way. After a moment’s hesitation, she set things up so the could start typing instead, trying with every keystroke not to think of who would have told her to do so from the beginning.

Chapter Text

Elsa spent every spare moment working up her nerve to speak to her parents about the summer camp issue. Days of convincing herself that no she wasn’t going behind Anna’s back the same way Anna went around hers. When she finally brought it up with them, the conversation felt as anticlimactic as possible.

“It’ll be good for you two to have some space,” her father/mother said in an unending cycle. The statement varied in wording and tension, but they’d apparently agreed upon an official stance that didn’t involve any extended conversing with Elsa on the matter.

Nobody had talked to Elsa in the planning period of the disaster either, so it wasn’t much of a change.

She barely spoke to Anna for weeks and then, suddenly, she was super busy and couldn’t bring herself to think of why, exactly, she was too busy to be home much. The hyper-business lasted for three days and Elsa spent as much time as possible out of the house, practicing and finally taking as much free time as Tiana had spare for the two of them to go on dates until one day Elsa got home late and, like a cleared fog, she realized why she’d been so busy.

Her father had taken Anna to the airport and Elsa had just run around, faster and faster, until there wasn’t any room for her to think about it or say a proper goodbye.

That night, she snuck into Anna’s room and looked around. She’d missed most of Anna packing, but the empty spaces left by missing objects seemed to glow as Elsa looked around the room. A picture of Anna’s mother was missing from its place on her bedside table. Two empty spots on the bookshelf marked the absence of Anna’s favorite books.

On a whim, she lay down on Anna’s side of the bed. It wasn’t that much bigger than her own, but the difference was still enough to be disconcerting. She turned on her side and reached out to pet the big stuffed dog. Two years later and Anna hardly ever moved it from its spot.

At some point, she slipped under the covers as she let herself just stop. She stopped rushing, just for a few minutes, and allowed herself to miss Anna terribly. The only thing she pretended didn’t happen were the tears she cried into Anna’s pillow before falling asleep in her spot.

Elsa kept herself busier after that, packing and re-packing and squeezing in dates on the pretense that she was about to leave for Europe. She practiced and practiced until Coach Cindy started sending her home early.

It was on one such night, a few days before the big departure date that she was re-packing and rummaging through her bedside table drawer. It was completely reasonable to do a pre-trip deep-clean, to meticulously go through something along the lines of everything she owned. Elsa had to make sure she’d gotten everything just right.

That’s when she pulled out the button. A green circle with two holes and a translucent blue border. Even though the string had broken ages ago, it was still threaded through the buttonholes, as though she could slip it on like a necklace.

She’d been kissing Jane something like a year ago, maybe longer, when the string broke. The other girl had been kissing her neck as they rolled around in Jane’s bed (which was smaller than Elsa’s.) Her fingers had been fumbling at the buttons of Elsa’s collar and tugging the shirt around it when the old string broke.

Jane had caught the button and held it up, curious. Elsa couldn’t help but smile a bit at the memory. Jane had always been so curious. “What’s this?” she’d asked, temporarily distracted.

To this day, Elsa couldn’t remember what she’d babbled, bright red. It was just such a tangled mess because she couldn’t say that Anna was her sister but without a sister it made no sense for her to have some weird childhood button necklace and it absolutely couldn’t be about Anna because Jane kept poking at Elsa’s relationship to Anna as it was so in the end she’d said... something? Something about an old childhood craft and a happy memory with her father.

She’d tucked the button into her pocket and moved it to the bedside table when she got home. It was too weird, too childish. Too wrapped up in Anna.

Elsa packed the button in her bag to Europe. She couldn’t say why.

And the summer marched as she, her father, and her mother relocated for the summer. They visited Paris and Geneva and London and Warsaw, skating in dozens of rinks until they started to blend together in a pattern of skating and sightseeing.

It felt like a leap backward in time. Just the three of them without the inherent tension of Anna’s presence. No lies to tell, just the three of them doing the socialite wannabe-olympian thing. It was almost nostalgic.

Except Elsa wanted to rip her hair out every time it was time to get into her ice-blue skating costume and apply enough hairspray for her wispy, long bangs to swoop back in the impossible style her routine required. She had to resist the urge to brush her purple eyeshadow into bags under her eyes.

With nothing to focus on but skating and sightseeing, there was only so much running she could do. Elsa hadn’t even realized how Anna had been sneakily taking care of her right back until she realized that she never took breaks because there wasn’t a redhead around to remind her she needed them.

Elsa started noticing clumps of her hair in the hotel shower drains. She reasoned that her hair had always been a bit thick, her usual braid was rather dense. To keep the change from being noticeable, she shifted to keeping her hair in a bun whenever she wasn’t performing.

And the performing itself? Wonderful. Her focus only ever improved under pressure, so she put extra pressures on herself. She’d always been an early-bird, but late at night it became increasingly irresistible to stay up and read an escapist novel. If she stayed up later, she would fall asleep immediately and stave off the threat of dreams.

It was nice, legitimately to see some of her consistent competition. She chatted with Snow when they saw one another. Elsa had a ‘snow queen’ act to pull off on the ice and Snow had a name that lent itself to humorous comparisons. If the girl wasn’t from Germany, Elsa had a sense they might have been friends. Sometimes Elsa told her snow puns. She didn’t say that, when the jokes first came to mind, they played in Anna’s voice.

With the olympics closing in, however, the cameras started to multiply along with the coverage. It was therefore completely reasonable that Elsa start watching and re-watching footage of the competitions until she fell asleep to the sound of her critics. She just needed something to occupy her mind, to keep her moving moving moving.

On the ice, there was a routine. There was something to be done and Elsa knew she could and would do so, flawlessly.

Off the ice? Elsa let herself slow enough to realize she’d messed things up with Tiana. She had access to email through her father’s computer, but communication between them seemed to fizzle anyway. She comforted herself with the thought that Tiana was the kind of girl who understood being absent to chase a dream. That and Tiana was probably keeping herself as busy as Elsa was.

In some ways, the summer was agonizing and long. In other ways, it passed by in a blink. Elsa was almost surprised to find herself back on a transatlantic flight just a scant couple months and a few medals later.

And even though she felt like she was living in a haze, Elsa managed enough clarity to meet up with Tiana and work through the breakup. They even managed to laugh about it a little. Neither of them had any concept of ‘work/life balance’ and those similarities that had initially drawn them together wound up leaving no room for them to stay together.

Leaving the coffeeshop, Tiana gave her one last kiss on the cheek. “Go find someone a little more fun,” she said with a smile.

Elsa smiled back until she got back in her car and drove to the rink instead of to home. She practiced some more, robotically. She felt allergic to fun and slowing down. When Coach Cindy arrived to start practice, she sent Elsa out before letting anyone else on the ice.

She completed her summer reading and the associated assignments in the span of a week when she remembered that it existed. She was in the middle of re-revising her annotation of the book of Job (for AP Lit, to give them an existing knowledge-base in what their texts might reference) when her father showed up at her door, looking frazzled.

“Elsa, can you do me a huge favor?” It sounded as though he’d ran up the stairs. He was still tying his tie.

“Hm? Sure?”

“My client gave me the wrong date for his arrival and I need to go meet with him now. Now-now, not tomorrow, apparently. Your mother is out so I need you to go get Anna from the airport.”

Elsa felt the haze disappear from her life. “What?” A rush of adrenaline coursed through her, and she resisted the flight impulse that told her to run right out the window.

“She’s landing in three hours. She doesn't have a phone so you’ll need to park and go inside to meet her.” He flashed her a smile and started dashing back down the stairs. “Thanks again! I’ll be out to dinner with my client so make sure you get both of you fed!”

Everything felt cold. The madcap rushing stopped and Elsa felt so stilled that she wondered if she’d ever move again. The haze had vanished entirely, replaced by a painful clarity that brought pinprick tears to her eyes.

“Anna... you were right.”

Chapter Text

Elsa fretted around the house for as long as she could reasonably excuse doing so. She cleaned the kitchen. She swept all the hardwood and vacuumed all the carpet. She dusted Anna’s room and got her sheets out of the linen closet to re-make the bed. After making the bed in its familiar shades of green, she couldn’t resist flopping on it, just for a moment.

The moment ended abruptly when Elsa realized she’d nearly drifted off and a minute to lie down and rest had somehow become fifteen minutes.

“Shit shit shit,” she muttered, leaping out of Anna’s bed. Had she really been so tired? She snagged a pair of flip flops and her car keys before dashing into the garage. She couldn’t stop wringing her hands until the garage door finally opened, and then she was finally on her way.

Despite a bit of speeding on the highway, she was still a bit late. Just enough that Anna had probably already made it to the terminal, so Elsa would have to search around a bit instead of being able to just wait by the right doorway.

She checked the screen for the baggage claim and tried to remember where Anna’s connecting flight was coming from. There weren’t any direct flights from the Great Barrier Reef to New York, but Elsa just couldn’t remember where the last connecting flight would have hit. She’d been studiously ignoring details of Anna’s return in favor of being obnoxiously busy and running from anything that might trigger introspection.

Because she had to pick a place to start looking, she went over to a pair of luggage carousels that matched a pair of California flights with times that could have been Anna’s.

She glanced around, looking for Anna’s tell-tale green baseball cap, or her red hair. She had no idea what the other girl would be wearing. She didn’t even know what Anna had been wearing when she left because Elsa had been keeping herself too busy to breathe.

After wandering around for a few minutes, Elsa caught a glimpse of red hair and started moving through the crowd to get closer. After navigating through a large group and their equally large cache of suitcases, she stopped short.

Her first thought was that Anna must have grown at least four or five inches over the summer. The redhead was leaning against the wall with her bags beside her. She was absently gazing in another direction and didn’t notice as Elsa blinked at her. She had on a pair of cut-off jean shorts with a bit of green paint swirls that Elsa thought she recognized from a full pair of jeans Anna had (apparently) modified. In a fashion choice Elsa’s parents would have immediately vetoed, Anna’s chest was only covered by a sports top and a knotted plaid shirt.

Elsa felt heat rise in her cheeks as her eyes lingered a moment. Anna had grown in a few other places as well. But, as Elsa continued to blink in astonishment, she was struck by the easiness in the set of Anna’s shoulders and arms. She was just leaning against the wall, not fidgeting, not wearing her baseball cap. Her leanly muscled forearms seemed to have gained a new flock of freckles, as had, well, every bit of skin Elsa could see.

Which was a lot, actually. Those shorts were, uh, rather short. A fair bit of toned stomach was on display as well.

Her legs finally started working. Elsa walked forward and awkwardly raised a hand. “H-hey? Anna?”

Anna blinked and glanced up in surprise. “Elsa,” she said. “I didn’t expect you.”

“Yeah?” Elsa stopped a pace away from Anna, unsure of how she should act. “Uh, Adgar was going to come, but there was a mix up and—”

Anna threw herself forward and wrapped Elsa up in the biggest, tightest hug she could ever remember. “I’m so happy to see you,” she said, burying her face in Elsa’s neck. “I didn’t think you’d pick me up, but I hoped it might be you.”

After a beat, Elsa returned the hug warmly. “I missed you so much,” she whispered back. “It’s... it’s so amazing to see you again.”

Their embrace tightened a moment. Then Elsa was about to let go when Anna laughed and spun, lifting Elsa off her feet before setting her down.

They stepped back after Elsa was back on her feet, but Anna kept a hand on Elsa’s shoulder. Anna’s eyes started to shift from elation to concern and Elsa glanced away. She probably looked as terrible as Anna looked amazing. The summer had treated them in very different ways. Without needing a mirror, Elsa knew her hair had lost some of its sheen and there were probably purple bags under her eyes. She hadn’t planned on anything but homework that day, so her hair was in a lazy, messy braid. Her bangs were hanging around her face and Elsa shifted uncomfortably. Anna practically glowed with health, a good tan, and self-care.

“Elsa... it’s just you here, right?” Anna’s other hand reached out and grabbed on of Elsa’s.

She nodded. “Uh, yeah.”

“Is the rest of your day free?”

A wry smile crossed Elsa’s lips. “Since when do I let myself be free.”

Anna’s expression immediately tightened. “Well you can take a night off from whatever you were planning on doing. Let’s have a night out, just us. We’ll drop my stuff off at home, and then we’ll go out to dinner and talk.”

As Elsa’s mind tried to think of a reason she was too busy (her default reaction to invitations, frankly), it occurred to her that it was Anna’s first night back and she hadn’t even asked if there was a family dinner planned.

And there wasn’t. Her mother and father were out, by coincidence or not. No family dinner. No family. Elsa wasn’t sure why she’d even thought otherwise. Anna certainly hadn’t made such an assumption.

“Okay,” she said. “I’m all yours then.”

Anna’s smile gave her a feeling of strength. “Good,” the younger girl said. She was nearly as tall as Elsa now. “Then let’s get going. If you’re all mine, you can get the duffel bag.” She winked and let go of Elsa’s shoulder to step back. Her fingers lingered with Elsa’s a moment longer. “I’ll get the rolling bags.”

“Sounds good to me,” Elsa said. She was surprised to find it was true, after checking. It felt oddly relieving to completely put her evening and plans out of her purview of control.

They sorted out the luggage situation and started walking back to the car. As they made their way, Elsa noticed a streak of white-blonde in Anna’s hair. She squinted at the addition. Her parents weren’t a fan of dyed hair. As she studied it, the color struck her as familiar. It wasn’t until they passed by a giant mirrored wall, however, that Elsa realized the streak was almost the same color as her own hair.

Anna’s eyes caught hers in the mirror, then seemed to follow Elsa’s gaze to her right-hand braid. She blushed slightly and flashed Elsa a smile. “I did that at camp. One of the counselors was super into hair dye and stuff, so we had dyeing parties a few times over the summer. You’re lucky I didn’t come back with anything more drastic. I seriously considered doing this color all over.”

“Why that shade?” Elsa asked as they passed through the doors, walking outside to the car. For some reason, she couldn’t decide if she hoped it had something to do with her or nothing to do with her. Either possibility was oddly nerve-wracking as she considered them in turn.

“Oh, uh,” Anna tilted her head, tossing her hair in a way that meant she would have tucked her hair behind her ear if her hands were free. “I did the streak during one of the dyeing parties early on in the summer. I was really missing you and the color seemed almost perfect.”

A glance confirmed that there was no gap by Anna’s roots. Elsa cleared her throat. “Did you get it redone, or, uh, touched up or whatever? Over the summer?”

The pink seemed to spread across Anna’s cheeks. “Uh, yeah. I thought it looked really good.” Her smile softened into an expression laced with yearning. “And I never stopped missing you, dork.”

Elsa returned the smile, and they walked back to the car commenting on the weather, the differences in the types of heat between Australia and America. Elsa grunted as they hefted Anna’s suitcases into the trunk of her car, and then it was time to go.

Once they sat in the car, a sense of melancholy overcame Elsa. Anna knew she was a wreck. There was no point in putting on a performance for her. Outside, even just in the parking lot, she felt like a tensed muscle, always trembling, always on edge. When she was alone, she just tensed more, trying to keep up the illusion when she knew that there was nobody around her who was willing to believe it, to strengthen her resolve as she tried to keep to it. When Elsa was alone, it just took more effort to lie to herself.

With Anna, she could relax, even if that relaxation meant watery eyes as she turned the key in the ignition. Her hand lingered on the gearshift, abstaining from putting it into reverse.

Then a warm hand covered hers, giving it a squeeze.

Elsa looked up to meet Anna’s gaze, which was pinched with concern but full of resolve. “I understand,” she said, “or at least I’m gonna try.”

Elsa looked away. The part of her that reveled in appearing perfectly put together was squirming uncomfortably inside. But that was just what she was used to. She leaned her head back against the driver’s seat.

“I’m right here for you if you’ll let me in,” Anna said.

A smile came to Elsa’s lips unbidden. She turned her head to meet Anna’s eyes. “You already are,” she said, turning her hand to squeeze Anna’s. She couldn’t imagine pushing the younger girl away like she had before. “You already were, I just didn’t realize I’d been letting you in when I pushed you out.”

Anna smiled wryly. “Well it’s about damn time then.” Her expression softened. “About the fight. Are... are we okay? I should have told you about the camp earlier. I was afraid, but I’m sorry that holding back hurt you like that.”

Elsa rubbed Anna’s hand with her thumb. With her fingers laced in Anna’s, the side of Anna’s thumb felt like the indentation of her worry stone. “I’m sorry I refused to see how you needed your space. I felt as though, if I gave you more space, you wouldn’t want me near you at all, and... and if I backed off from caring for you, I would start to see how little I’ve been caring for myself.” Her voice felt thick and Elsa had to speak past a lump in her throat. “You were right about me displacing my feelings. And I’m sorry for smothering you.”

Anna reached out with her other arm and pulled Elas close, resting their foreheads together as she smiled. “Then you’re forgiven. I’ve had plenty of space and I still want you close. Just in the right way this time.”

That smile was contagious, despite the fact that Elsa kept blinking to keep her watery eyes from bearing proper tears. “Then you’re forgiven too. I can see now that you obviously made the right choice for you. I’m proud of you for doing so, even though I was the one who thought you were wrong.”

The forehead touch moment abruptly turned into a hug across the center console of the car, and Elsa couldn’t say who had started it, but she refused to let go first.

“I love you,” she whispered after a few seconds. Anna smelled like toffee and woodsmoke. It was different, but nice. Very nice, actually.

“I love you too,” Anna said, pulling back slightly. She planted a brief kiss on Elsa’s cheek before returning fully to her seat. “Let’s go get dinner first. I’m starving and the bags can bear an extra hour or two away from home first.”

Elsa put the car into reverse and started pulling out. “Sounds good to me. Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere, as long as it’s with you.”

“Fantastic,” Elsa said, shifting the car into drive. “Then we’re getting burgers, something nice and all-American to welcome you back to the states.”

Chapter Text

“It was mostly girls from America, Canada, and European countries,” Anna said. “There were some girls from China and Japan, though.”

Elsa tilted her head. “Just girls?”

“Uh, yeah.” Anna shot Elsa a strange look. “Did you really think Adgar would send me halfway around the globe to a co-ed summer camp?”

“Well, given that you seem to have equal preference for all genders, I guess I didn’t think he would be subject to the notion that you’re somehow less likely to get laid in an all-ladies environment.”

Anna shrugged. “I'm cool with all genders, but I think he's still more cautious about leaving me around a higher concentration of pregnancy-causing-penises. At least I think that was the logic.” She paused to take a bite of her burger. “Speaking of which,” she added afterward, “are he and Idunn still trying to set you up with that one lesbian daughter of some work friend? Wasn’t her name like Rainbow? Cirrus? Aurora? Something sky-related?”

Elsa laughed. “Well, if there’s one thing being busy has helped with, it’s that I’m officially too dedicated to skating and everything else to deal with dating. Frankly, I don’t think I have room for anyone else in my life right now.”

“What about Tiana?” Anna tilted her head and munched on some fries.

“We... we had a talk. I think we’re too busy to be anything but friends.” Elsa shrugged and took a bite of her burger. It was good, excellent really, but bringing up Tiana reminded her of the girl’s excellent cooking. Whenever they had time for it, they’d do dinner at Tiana’s house and Elsa would get to enjoy a fantastic dinner date. “We talked through it and we broke up, but we’re still friends.”

“Good,” Anna said. She picked up a fry and poked it in Elsa’s direction. “You need someone in your life who gets your whole, ‘I’m going to run myself into the ground in pursuit of my dreams’ deal.” She dipped the fry in ketchup and then gestured to herself. “And it can’t be me because, as much as I love riding, I’m not trying to go to the olympics for it. I enjoy my sanity.”

“Well, I need a someone like you too,” Elsa said. Anna seemed to swell with happiness at the comment and they continued to eat. After a few moments, Elsa realized that Anna hadn’t mentioned something. “Wait,” she said. “You haven’t said anything about Mulan. How did the summer treat the both of you.”

“Uh, it was pretty good at first,” Anna said. From the way her eyes flickered to one side, Elsa got the sense things didn’t stay ‘pretty good’ all through the summer. “It was just rough because we couldn’t really send letters while she was on that big family trip to China.” Anna shrugged. “And there was already kind of a distance forming. She met some cute boy, some Shang guy, and then there was some cute girl, I can’t remember her name. For my part, I was meeting tons of cute girls.” Anna made a vague gesture. “We both said we’d break things off midway through summer, but we could talk about it once school started up.”

“Do you think you’ll pick things back up again?” Elsa sipped on her milkshake. They’d gone to an old-fashioned diner in town, and whenever she let herself indulge, the cold milkshakes were her favorite treat, especially in Summer.

Anna held up a finger as she finished chewing an unfortunately large bite. Elsa giggled at her and Anna blushed, covering her mouth. Eventually, she managed to say, “I’m not really sure?” She rubbed the back of her neck. “I’m not really sure because I...” Anna’s cheeks were starting to turn pink. “Okay don’t tell anyone this...?”

Elsa nodded. “Not a soul.” Anna shot her a scrutinizing gaze, but Elsa just smiled. “I would never, Anna. Never.”

With a nod, Anna continued, “I... I’m not really good at defining the differences between romantic and platonic feelings.” She chewed on some fries in a self-conscious manner. “I know when I’m not into someone. Like woah no go, not gonna happen. But when it comes to whether how I feel for someone is romantic or just friends or—or whatever? Yeah it all kinda blends together in this big mush of, ‘oh wow they’re super cool we should hang out and maybe mash our faces together for fun I guess.’”

Setting her burger down, Elsa reached across the table to rub Anna’s shoulder. “That’s alright,” she said. “Feelings are all complicated mush anyway. There’s nothing wrong with having those kinda mixed together.”

Anna shot her a wry smile, but leaned into Elsa’s touch. “You think that,” she said, “but after Mulan and I broke things off, I may or may not have gotten myself into some trouble with a few girls, er, friends, at camp.”

Elsa rolled her eyes and moved her hand up to tug Anna’s ear. “You just need to be forthright about any confusion on your end,” she chastised.

Batting her hand away, Anna stuck her tongue out. “I was,” she said. “but sometimes I just want to kiss all my close friends because they’re wonderful and then oops? Apparently some people find kissing to be a distinctly Romantic-with-a-capital-R kind of thing?”

“My little si—heartbreaker,” Elsa said. She cleared her throat to move past the slip. “In any case, it’s a new school year and I’m sure you can work through your love life issues. For my own part, I frankly don’t think I have time for anyone new in my life.”

“Yeah,” Anna said. “If I were you, I don’t think I’d have room to sleep, so I can see how starting up a romance with someone new might be a bit low on your priority list.” She took a bite of her burger, but started counting something on one hand.

Elsa tilted her head. “What are you doing?” She dipped a pair of fries in her milkshake and ate them.

Anna swallowed, nose wrinkling as she glanced at Elsa’s milkshake. “That’s so weird,” she said. “But I was trying to count the insane amount of priorities you have. There’s the olympic tryouts this Winter, and leading up to that is basically daily practice.”

Elsa felt her shoulders tighten. “Don’t forget the competitions leading up to the tryouts,” she mumbled. “I need to do well at those or I can’t go to the tryouts at all.”

“Okay,” Anna continued, mouth tightening as her gaze took in Elsa’s change in demeanor. “So those competitions too. Plus you’re a senior in high school, so you’ve got college applications to do.”

Elsa set her burger down. She was almost finished with it, but her appetite had suddenly disappeared. “Yeah... don’t forget that I need to keep up with my classes or else I might as well not apply to college at all.”

“How many AP classes do you have?” Anna asked, looking increasingly concerned. “I... we were kind of on the outs in the Spring, so I never heard how many you signed up for.”

“Too many...” Elsa said. She knew the number was four, but, as she tried to recall which ones, she was unable to remember their names. “But I’m also supposed to be self-studying for another one. Maybe two. I’m supposed to take some extra time after the olympics to catch up on those.”

Anna was silent and Elsa looked up at her after a few moments. The redhead, frankly, looked aghast.

“I was supposed to take five APs originally,” Elsa added helpfully. “We decided against doubling up on math, doing AP statistics and AP calculus BC.”

Rubbing the bridge of her nose, Anna asked, “And what the hell else is on your priority list?”

“Clubs,” Elsa said. “I’m the president of two. I’m part of three others. I have a part-time job tutoring after school.” She smiled guiltily at Anna. “And, you know, friends. Family.” She couldn’t help her smile softening. “You,” she said last.

Anna blushed. “Well I’m just a Sophomore, so I’m not dying like you are. You can sit right near the top of my priority list, alright?” She took her final bite of her burger and crossed her arms. “But not like your pseudo-mothering nonsense this time. We’re gonna be here for one another right.”

“Supporting one another as equals?” Elsa tilted her head.

“Exactly,” Anna said. “Like partners in crime, except without the inevitable betrayal. I know your schedule is crazy, but I understand that the crazy is important to you. How can I help support you with that? Let’s try and work out a system before school starts up.”

Elsa sat forward and started finishing up her milkshake. “Well, for starters, I have practice every morning starting at five. And after school until five, whenever I’m not tutoring.”

Anna blanched. “Wow okay that’s early. Well... I can take the bus to school. And personal support can start before classes. What if we make a habit of meeting up before the first bell? Just to check in and say hello. Review, I don’t know, goals or focuses for the day. Talk about any anxieties.”

Elsa raised an eyebrow and Anna crossed her arms. “Every day at camp we started with a morning check in. Reviewed goals in small groups, went over the schedule. It, it was a nice habit. We could support our groupmates and stuff. Give one another hugs.” A faint blush colored Anna’s cheeks.

Shaking her head, Elsa just smiled. “It just... it just was an unexpected, but very welcome suggestion. I would love to have a morning check in. You won’t mind being apart from your friends?”

“How about you text me when you park your car? Then I can hang with my friends until you arrive and we meet up.”

“That sounds perfect.”

Later that night, Elsa wrote down the full schedule they’d worked out. She took a deep breath. After talking through it with Anna, everything felt a little more manageable. She even felt motivated enough to finally finish unpacking everything from the Europe trip.

She was going through a bag when she found the button again. Green like the shades on Anna’s bed and blue around the border, like Elsa’s eyes.

Struck with inspiration, she started digging through the bottom drawer of her desk. It took a minute, but she eventually managed to find a needle and embroidery thread. She ignored the flash of nostalgia and guilt that came from seeing an unfinished cross-stitching project, a beautiful castle in shades of blue that looked like ice.

She’d finish it eventually. She just hadn’t had time in years.

But this, she had time for this one thing.

Taking the needle and a bit of extra blue thread from the castle project, she carefully sewed the Anna button to the inside of her backpack, just inside the main pocket. She smiled. She’d be able to see it every time she got something out of her backpack, or went to put something in.

A reminder, she told herself, that she wasn’t alone. She and Anna were on a team together in, well, life. They were partners, and Elsa felt more confident than she had in months. Gold medals were all well and good, but it was Anna’s presence that made her feel capable for the first time in forever.

Chapter Text

Her parents could be nothing but impressed as Elsa’s resolve doubled and she started off the school year with steadier habits and a cheerier outlook than she’d had in months. Where before they seemed always on the edge of their concern, almost concerned enough to start asking questions, to start intervening, now Elsa could smile at them as she sat down to the dinner table at night. She could answer their questions without avoidance and they could tell she’d stopped doing so.

Of course, she could only sit calmly in dinner, not doing any form of multitasking but thinking over her homework and schedule, because she did her homework in class as much as possible. As soon as they went over their calculus homework, her teacher liked to write the next day’s assignment in the corner of the board so they could write it down without the distractions of an impending bell at the end of class.

So Elsa would do her homework then, reading ahead at night so she could quickly get the homework done while the material was being taught.

Still, she always had work left over, and she could never start until after dinner because of practice or tutoring. After a week, Anna noticed how quickly Elsa had started eating her food, and pulled her aside to talk because, apparently, she wasn’t eating enough of it anyway.

So they worked out a deal: Elsa would always set the table, since she couldn’t really use the bit of dead time before dinner started anyway. In exchange, Anna would always get her dishes after dinner so that Elsa didn’t feel the need to rush.

And... it was a good system. The dinner part, certainly, but the talking. Anna proved to be more astute than Elsa had ever given her credit for. It had only taken another week into school for her to notice how little sleep Elsa got, staying up late to work on homework in advance or to prep college application essays. Or re-rewrite them for a third time. Stuff like that.

One night, over homework, Anna cleared her throat in a way which, for Anna, typically denoted she was about to say something serious. Or at least kind of serious.

“Elsa,” Anna said, “you took health class your Sophomore year right?”

“Hm? Yeah.” Elsa didn’t glance up from her homework. “It’s required, Anna.”

Anna sighed dramatically and that’s when Elsa did look over. The other girl was leaning back in her desk chair, squinting in Elsa’s direction. “Then how many hours of sleep are recommended for teenagers?” she asked.

“Uh...” Elsa glanced away. The answer was 8. “Seven?”

“You know that’s not right, and neither are your sleeping habits. You don’t even need to stay up that late for most of your stuff. I know you don’t.”

Elsa shrugged. “I just... I get anxious when it’s not done, so I try to work ahead.” And, frankly, she was as close to not being ahead as she’d ever been.

Anna frowned. “Does it keep you up at night?”

“Yeah. And... if I’m having trouble sleeping, then I figure I might as well be awake anyway, you know?”

“Sleep is my lover, Elsa,” Anna responded wryly. “I would never forsake her during our time together the same way you’d never abandon a girl while the two of you were on a date.”

Elsa nodded and didn’t mention the one time she’d basically cut short a date between her and Jane to the zoo because of homework. It had only been one part of their breakup.

They had continued doing homework for the rest of the evening until ten, when Anna was taking a break that seemed as though it was about to spill over into sleep-time.

“Go brush your teeth before bed,” Elsa reminded her. “If you’re just gonna fall asleep there to join your lover on break, get the essentials done first.”

“Mkay,” Anna murmured. “But only if you go with me.”

It was a bit suspicious, but Elsa complied and brushed her teeth alongside a tired Anna who kept mock-falling-asleep on her shoulder, threatening to drool toothpast on Elsa’s pajamas.

“Alright,” Elsa said when they got back to Anna’s room. “Off to bed with you, sleepy-head.”

“You should take a break,” Anna said, clambering onto her side of the bed. “I know you’re not like us mere mortals who need them to keep focusing, but you should still take them.” Anna wrestled with the large stuffed dog on the other side of her bed and eventually managed to extract it from under the covers. “Here, put this on the floor, would ya?”

“Okay?” Elsa did so and glanced over. Anna was pulling the covers back on the spare side of the bed.

“Now crawl in,” Anna insisted. “You can lie down and rest for a few minutes before going back to your homework. You have everything done for tomorrow, right?”

Elsa yawned. “Yeah, I got that stuff done yesterday.” She glanced at the clock and told herself it was only for five minutes before crawling into the bed. She’d dozed on Anna’s bed before, but it never stopped being fantastically cozy.

Anna reached out and brushed Elsa’s bangs back before scratching her head. “See? You can afford a little break.”

“Mmm, maybe.” Elsa closed her eyes and stuck her tongue out in response to the exasperated expression she knew the redhead was making.

They spoke a bit about their days, nothing extraordinary, until a comfortable silence fell between them. As Anna’s hand scratching Elsa’s head began to slow, Elsa blinked and checked her phone to realize it had been nearly fifteen minutes, not the five minute break she’d allowed for herself.

“Shit,” she muttered, starting to sit up. Before she could, however, she felt Anna’s hand tighten in her hair, just enough to surprise her, barely painful. A moment later, Anna’s other hand draped over Elsa’s shoulder.

“Shhh,” Anna whispered, half asleep.

Elsa huffed. “This was your plan all along wasn’t it?” She couldn’t help yawning again. She really was tired. And her mind felt... still, for once. Not the usual rushing that kept her awake.

“Yeeeep,” Anna mumbled. A sleepy, smug grin crossed her lips. “And guess what else?”

Anna’s hand rubbing her head was making Elsa sleepy again. “Hm?”

Anna pulled her hands off Elsa just long enough to clap. The lights went off.

Elsa snorted. “I keep forgetting you have a clapper. That was frankly one of the more on-target gifts Adgar and Idunn got for you.”

“It’s the best,” Anna mumbled. “So are you. Now get to sleep, Elsa. I know your alarm is on your phone. Just rest.”

After a moment of trying to fight it, Elsa set her phone on the bedside table and closed her eyes. As she drifted off to sleep, Anna withdrew her hands and Elsa listened to her breathing slow.

On a whim, she reached forward and slipped her hand under Anna’s. As Elsa closed her eyes, she felt the other girl squeeze her hand lightly. Then she fell asleep, and it hadn’t come so easy in months.

Somehow, one night’s rest became two and two became habit until finally Elsa found herself spending more nights on the spare side of Anna’s bed than she spent in her own. Even when Anna couldn’t coax her to lie down when she did, Elsa would sit at the spare desk in Anna’s room, working under the light of the desk lamp until the bed became too tempting and she’d finally go to sleep. Even on nights when she did homework in her own room, she found herself, more often than not, sneaking over to Anna’s room, lured by the prospect of a semi-warmed bed and a sleepy cuddle partner to lie close to.

In the mornings, Elsa would silence her alarm as quickly as possible and lie awake a few moments, reluctant to leave, before slipping out of bed. Sometimes she woke up with her fingers laced with Anna’s. On those mornings, she would hate leaving even more, but managed to force herself up by habit alone.

The extra time cost her, however. Her morning stretching started to slip, replaced by lingering moments warm beside Anna. She held onto every second of them no matter how much she told herself to get up.

Setting her alarm earlier to try and work around it just resulted in more time lying beside Anna, enjoying the quiet morning warmth of their bed. Elsa eventually reasoned that the time spent there provided an emotional benefit that was worth the time she spent there.

Before leaving the bed she started giving Anna a kiss on the cheek or forehead. It became her favorite part, seeing a sleepy kiss turn the corners Anna’s lips upward in the slightest smile. Even on nights Elsa spent in her own bed, or the occasional night she didn’t sleep at all, Elsa would give Anna a good morning kiss before heading downstairs.

When, finally, the clock threatened to make Elsa late if she failed to rise, she found the motivation to do so, getting her day in order and scarfing a quick breakfast.

She felt guilty, not sleeping, but some nights the anxiety was too great to calm. She would work on homework as far in advance as possible as though it might stave off the possibility of more to take its place in a few weeks time. When that didn’t soothe her worries enough, she would edit her application essays for UC Berkeley and... wherever else she was applying. Sometimes she couldn’t quite remember, even as she read through the essays again and again.

But she never forgot some things, like a text to Anna once she’d parked in the senior lot. They would meet up, hug, and have a quick morning conference to stay on target, just like they’d planned to do over that one dinner.

Their next habitual meeting during the day, in contrast, grew out of coincidence. Elsa’s study period was right before lunch. She normally spent it in the armchair at the back corner of the library.

The first time it happened, Elsa had fallen asleep in the chair. Anna later confessed that she’d been cutting through the library to get to lunch faster when she saw Elsa dozing.

Elsa had been woken by a, “Hey, Blondie. Time to get up.” Then a kiss on the cheek.

She’d blinked herself fully awake and nearly jumped when she saw Anna sitting on one arm of the chair. “What?”

Anna rolled her eyes. “You were dozing and I was just, uh, passing by. Your study period is over and it’s lunch, you dork.” She squinted. “Have you been sleeping enough?”

No. “Yes.” Elsa smiled.

Crossing her arms, Anna stood up. “Uh huh. Well, let’s get you to your table. I’m sure your friends are looking for you to, I don’t know, review SAT vocab words over lunch or something.”

Elsa snorted and started to extricate herself from the cozy chair. “Oh come on. We stopped doing that over lunch last year.”

Anna just shook her head. “It’s the fact that you did it at all, Elsa.”

When Anna dropped Elsa off with her friends for lunch, gave her shoulder a quick squeeze before heading over to her own friends.

After that, Elsa found herself lingering in the library armchair, waiting for Anna to pick her up until it became an expectation. And when Elsa was low (well, lower than usual) on sleep, she could rest and rest assured that Anna would wake her for lunch so she wouldn’t be late.

So the weeks passed by and Elsa managed. She kept her worry stone in her pocket for bad moments. She made it to practice. She slept enough (by her standards, at least). She ran her clubs and got to her job on time. She finished her homework and even managed to hang out with her friends sometimes. If hanging out mostly consisted of doing homework together, that just meant she was multitasking.

But her anxiety kept building anyway. She was always up just a bit too late at night. She was always up too late in the morning to do anything but rush. Her routine was solid but she couldn’t seem to get that one jump consistently.

Elsa lost her worry stone one day in October and skipped her afternoon classes to avoid a public breakdown. She just sat in her car and tried not to cry. When Anna showed up with it after school, she couldn’t let go of her for a solid minute.

She didn’t notice until pulling back that there was something different about it. She held the stone up to the sky to see it with better contrast. There was definitely a hole through a part of the stone on one side, away from the indentation that Elsa’s thumb knew better than the underside of her pointer finger.

She tilted her head. “What did you do?”

Anna pulled a small chain out of her pocket and a small carabiner. “I figured... if you could attach it to your keys, or a belt loop or something, then you wouldn’t lose it again. Or at least it would be harder.”

Elsa turned the transformed object around in her hands. “That’s... quite clever. When... how did you drill a hole in it though?”

“Shop class,” Anna answered brightly. “I found it after you left, but I wasn’t sure where you went. I figured you’d be at your car, but I didn’t have time to check. So I wound up bringing it to shop class with me, and that’s when the solution hit me. I pulled a spare keychain off my keys and found the carabiner in the shop’s junk drawer.”

She tugged the stone out of Elsa’s hand and fiddled with it a moment to attach it to its new holder. “Tada!” she declared, handing it back.

Elsa turned the stone over in her hand. The chain didn’t interfere with her using the worry stone, which had been her one concern. She immediately attached it to her belt loop, not caring if it looked a little odd. “Thank you,” she said, pulling Anna in for another hug.

“You’re always welcome,” Anna said back, voice muffled into Elsa’s shoulder.

They spent the afternoon together in the library, Anna doing her homework from a nearby table as Elsa tutored. And if she fiddled a bit with the worry stone as she did so, her tutee certainly didn’t notice.

By the time they were driving home, however, the on-and-off drizzles of the afternoon had intensified into a moderate rainstorm.

Elsa had been talking about the weather, how she couldn’t wait for Winter.

Anna had said something about the olympics and Elsa was in the middle of saying it was all about the snow and being able to skate outdoors.

That’s when the oncoming car hit a patch of water and hydroplaned, dipping into their lane.

Elsa swerved to avoid the car, her mind racing through driver’s ed advice as she felt the rear tires slide to the side. Someone laid on their horn and Anna screamed her name as they watched the car skid closer and then back into its lane just in time.

As soon as the immediate danger passed, Elsa pulled over to the side of the road. The rain only seemed to come down harder and, beside her, Anna had started hyperventilating, crying between gasps for air. Elsa ripped the key out of the ignition and threw it it on the dash before unbuckling so she could reach across the console and whisper, “It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay, Anna.”

They sat on the side of the road almost an hour as they waited for the rain to stop, but Elsa couldn’t call it time wasted or lost. She rubbed her thumb on the worry stone and wrapped her other arm around Anna’s shoulder. Neither of them could steady their breathing very well, and Elsa had no idea what to say.

But, as they eventually pulled into the garage at home, they were both alive. And they had one another. Anna ran around the car and threw herself into Elsa’s arms once they both got out.

They didn’t speak about it that night, and Elsa knew she couldn’t drop everything to spend the evening comforting Anna, so they just did their homework a bit closer than usual, sitting next to one another in bed as they did their reading.

Eventually sitting next to one another turned into Anna slouching. Slouching turned into Anna using Elsa’s lap as a pillow. And as Anna remained unable to stay in one reading position for long, Elsa found herself unable to hold back smiles, then giggles. And then, after Anna sprawled herself over Elsa’s legs to lie on her back and read upside down, Elsa couldn’t help extracting her legs to plop them on top of Anna’s stomach.

“Ah, what a nice ottoman,” she said.

Anna wrinkled her nose and wiggled, trying to toss Elsa’s legs off. “Hey, I’m not your furniture!”

Elsa rolled her eyes. “Well you seem to think you can sprawl on me to your heart’s desire. I’m simply returning the favor.”

Then Anna wriggled out from Elsa’s legs, Elsa tried to pin her again, and the balance between reading and wrestling went back and forth for the next half hour or so until they were both laughing outrageously, reading and almost-accident forgotten.

Despite the strain of her schedule and the lurking presence of her anxiety, Elsa found herself content most days. Busy, but content. Her favorite moments of each day were opposites, almost. She reveled in her triumphs on the ice, those perfectly landed jumps and the speed she could attain on her skates. Almost equally, she could have lived forever in the quietest moments where she held hands with Anna during the drive home, or when they sat back to back while doing homework. The best moments where the small ones where they could be together, finally in balance.

But no matter how right their relationship finally felt, Elsa still felt strange calling Anna her sister. They were close, no doubt about it. They shared secrets and let one another in. But every time she tried, it felt wrong. She could still hear the echoes of her parents saying that Anna wasn’t her sister, and they hadn’t said anything to the contrary since Anna moved in. They seemed determined, actually, to stay as far out of the way as possible when it came to how Elsa and Anna developed their relationship, labels included.

Labels were complicated. They weren’t sisters, so Elsa and Anna came to the mutual, unspoken decision to ignore them.  But sometimes, when they were alone, Anna would repeat her statement from the end of the summer: “Partners in crime, just without the inevitable betrayal.”

It was a joke, but it felt more right than anything else. They were partners.

Of course, sometimes you had to leave partners behind. Elsa and Anna talked over the details of Elsa’s first major competition over and over. No matter how they approached it, however, it just wasn’t reasonable for Anna to come along. At least it was being televised on a channel they were subscribed to, so she could watch at home from the couch with Adgar.

The morning of her departure, Elsa let her alarm run long enough for Anna to wake up, as she’d requested.

“Mmmmn, I’m up Elsa,” the redhead mumbled into her pillow. “Unsummon the demon noise please.”

Elsa snorted as she turned off the alarm. “You sure you’re awake? I generally associate that look on you with being dead to the world.”

Anna grumbled as she rolled her face off the pillow to shoot a sleepy glare at Elsa. “You’re such a goddamn morning person,” she said. “I hate it.”

“Well you manage to avoid being either a morning or night person,” Elsa observed, sitting up in bed. “Which is, frankly, impressive.”

A smile curled the corners of Anna’s lips and she closed her eyes. “Sleep is my lover,” she said. “I shall not wander.”

“Okay,” Elsa said, “Well you need to give up her company for a moment to say goodbye.”

Anna didn’t move for a few long seconds, but Elsa was patient as Anna eventually dragged herself mostly upright, leaning heavily against her headboard. “I made it,” she smiled sleepily.

Elsa scooted closer and wrapped the other girl up in a hug. “I’m proud of you,” she said, breathing in the scent of Anna’s hair, trying to capture it in a memory.

“Well I’m proud of you,” Anna said, giving Elsa a sleepy nuzzle. “I know you’re gonna kill it out on the ice. Break a leg and whatever.”

“That’s for theatre, Anna,” Elsa said dryly as she pulled back, just a bit, so she properly smile at her. “But thank you.”

“Text me when you land, mkay?” Anna’s sleepy eyes squinted at her and Elsa couldn’t help but laugh.

“I don’t know if you’ll be properly awake by then either, but okay. I’ll text you.” Elsa pulled Anna forward for another tight hug. “It’s time to go though. Get back to sleep, I’ll miss you. I love you.”

Anna squeezed her tightly. “I love you too, dork. You make sure to get sleep at all while you’re out there.”

“I will.” Elsa gave her one last squeeze, then pulled back and turned to kiss Anna’s cheek as she did so.

Her lips met something soft and shaped entirely unlike a familiar freckled cheek.

In the time it took her to realize that Anna must have turned to kiss her cheek as well, the other girl pulled back from their kiss and laughed.

“Well done,” Anna giggled sleepily. “It’s good to know we’re on the same page, but let’s try not to accidentally turn them at the same time.” She leaned forward and kissed Elsa gently, this time on her bright, blushing cheek. “See you when you get back.”

“Y-yeah.” Elsa said, pulling back. “I’ll see you later, Anna.”

Exiting the room, Elsa was grateful her morning habits were strong enough to carry her through her preparations without much thought. Her mind was fully occupied with the fleeting memory of Anna’s lips on her own and the lingering scent of her hair.

Chapter Text

Elsa stretched her legs out and sat back in her seat. Despite speed-walking through the rather spacious airport, her knees felt stiff, as though she’d only just rolled out of bed. She hadn’t slept enough (what else was new?) but at least the seat was roomy enough to shift her hips around as she tried to find the most comfortable spot.

“Enjoying that first-class legroom?” her mother asked, glancing over.

A smile touched Elsa’s lips. “Absolutely,” she said. “But I still feel a bit cramped. I think Europe spoiled me for pre-competition comfort. Now that I need to take a flight right before, it feels so restrictive.”

Her mother returned the smile. “Well, I’m glad you’ve gotten used to the good life. Just don’t let yourself get spoiled.”

Elsa snorted. “It’s spoiling me just to be skipping practice at five in the morning today.”

Her mother rolled her eyes in a gesture Elsa recognized as one of her own, then their conversation petered off as the flight attendant went through the safety procedures and pre-flight information. Despite having flown plenty of times before, Elsa picked up the booklet explaining where the emergency exits were. Maybe it was silly, but she always did, skimming through just in case she needed to know.

She tried to skip it once, but anxiety forced her to pick it up later anyway. Elsa had tried to pass it off as checking out the snack menu on the other page, and she wasn’t entirely certain whether or not her father had believed her.

After the plane levelled off at cruising altitude, Elsa’s mother cleared her throat.

“I just want you to know that I am here for you,” she said with a slight smile. “You... you have matured into a dedicated and beautiful young woman, especially in the past two years. You’ve grown up so quickly, right under my nose.”

Elsa fought down the instinct to apologize. “Oh, well, thank you, moth—mom. Thanks, Mom.”

Her mother reached over and held her hand on the first-class, extra-wide armrest. “In some ways, I worried that you grew up too quickly.” Her smile faded. “I know you’ve pulled away for your own reasons, and, as your mother, I have tried to understand. I think, however, that you understand my perspective too.”

“I do?” escaped Elsa’s lips before she could stop it. Frankly, she mostly felt terrified that she’d done something wrong to trigger this conversation.

Instead of being disappointed, her mother’s smile returned, doubled. “Of course you do,” she said. “Because you tried to mother Anna, since the moment you and Adgar brought her home. I watched you try for years. At first she didn’t even seem to mind much.”

She was right. At first, when Anna first arrived, she’d clung to Elsa and gripped her hand like a child crossing the street. Even with their current healthy relationship, Elsa still missed those days sometimes. Her role had been clear and easy to label, at least.

“And then that terrible schism occurred between the two of you in the Spring,” her mother continued. “And I wondered if I should have tried harder to explain. But... but now?” Her smile glowed with pride. “Now you two have finally worked your relationship out. I feel as though I barely see you, with the schedule you’re on, but I see enough of you and Anna to see that you two have moved past that fight, and you’ve moved past trying to mother her.

“Sometimes I looked at the two of you and felt so right about trying to keep you apart.” Her mother was looking out the window, past Elsa. “You two were clearly failing to figure yourselves out. The fight and summer separation seemed to confirm it. Of course, by then, there wasn’t a way to separate you.”

Her eyes refocused on Elsa. “But now? I regret making it such a priority early on in your life. It took a little while, but you two have matured and established a healthy, balanced relationship.” Her soft smile twitched into a humorous one. “You’ve learned how to live together in harmony.”

Elsa rolled her eyes, aware that she probably looked just like her mother as she did. “It sounds like someone has been watching Avatar.”

“I had a week off between my legal clients.”

“In any case,” Elsa said, “Thank you. For your perspective. For being proud of me.” She allowed her lips to stretch in a wry smile. “For keeping out of it.”

“You’ll make plenty of your own mistakes,” her mother replied. “And, frankly, I don’t know if I have any advice to keep you from following in the footprints I made with my own sister.”

“I’ll try to keep my mistakes original, at least.”

Conversation dwindled between them, overtaken by the arrival of the snack cart and the awkwardness that always descended whenever her mother’s sister came up in conversation.

Over a bag of chips, her mother eventually turned and smiled again. “On the note of things I normally keep out of, do you have any romantic prospects coming up? No cute girls that have caught your gaze?”

Elsa’s first thought was that she’d had a lovely kiss on the lips just that morning. She flushed bright red. “There’s no time for me to look at anybody, let alone pursue them,” she sputtered.

“Oh well, don’t worry. You have plenty of time to meet girls of your persuasion once you’re in college. That’s where Adgar’s sister met her partner, your know.”

“You seem to assume I’ll have any more time in college than I do now.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out. Your father and I met in college too.” Elsa’s mother tapped her chin. “Oh, and I’m sorry if your father and I were, perhaps, a bit pushy. But do you know how Aurora is doing?”

“A bit pushy?” Elsa blanched. “You guys tried to set us up on no less than three dates.”

“Well we’ve stopped,” her mother objected.

“Small favors.” Elsa brightened. “Actually, Anna was speaking to Aurora’s new girlfriend the other day, and she updated me.”

“Oh?” Her mother tilted her head.

“She’s actually started dating Mulan!” Elsa grinned. “Remember? Grandmother Fa’s granddaughter? Anna was seeing her for a bit?”

“No way!”

“Yeah, it’s such a small world.”

“How did they meet? They go to different schools.”

“Aurora started dating some guy named Phillip. She was at a martial arts competition over the summer to support him and apparently got to watch Mulan completely wipe the floor with him. He actually got knocked out, so Aurora was by his side when Mulan came to be a good sport. They started speaking, presumably over his bruised and battered body. Details fade after that, so I’m not sure what happened, but Anna said Aurora and Mulan started dating within the fortnight.”

Elsa’s mother blinked. “Huh. Well... A shame for that Phillip, but I’m glad that Aurora seems to have found someone else she likes. I’ll ask Stephen about them the next time I see him.”

“From what Anna said, Mulan is balancing her riding and her martial arts fairly well too.”

Her mother smiled. “Well, you’ll eventually be able to relax some of your obligations enough to romance someone. You’re doing fantastically well at keeping your various activities in line right now, Elsa. When you find somebody, she will be someone who furthers you in a symbiotic fashion, a girl who compliments the balance you’ve already achieved in your life.”

And then Elsa’s mother sat back, apparently satisfied and pleased with the wisdom she’d conveyed, Elsa looked out the window and leaned against the wall of the plane. Her mother’s description was everything she wanted in a partner. It just wasn’t until Elsa heard it phrased like that did she realize that there was someone in her life who already fit the bill perfectly.

A blush rose in her cheeks as she remembered the smell of Anna’s hair from that morning.

“Oh, and I know you’re going to wipe the floor with all the other skaters,” her mother said, interrupting Elsa’s reverie. “So just work on getting into your ‘zone.’ I’m going to take a nap. You’re going to be great.”

“Yeah,” Elsa said, mind as far from competition as possible. “Thanks, Mom.”

Chapter Text

Elsa was a good girl, or at least she tried to be.

And she was good at everything she tried. She was a brilliant student, a graceful skater. An astute tutor, and a half-decent girlfriend whenever she managed a date. She was a good daughter. Maybe even a good sister-friend-whatever to Anna, after all these years.

She’d never had a sister and since her mother had practically forbidden the topic while Elsa grew up, she wasn’t really sure how to do that right. But she was trying, dammit. And if, perhaps, it was a bit odd to find her mind lingering in the smell of her sister’s hair, like toffee and warm reunions, then... well at least Elsa was trying.

Elsa laced her skates a third time. That was okay. Sometimes it took up to five. She was never sure why it took so long sometimes, just that she had to keep re-lacing them until her anxiety disappeared, telling her it was okay. Everyone had pre-performance rituals.

If her anxiety was disordered—she couldn’t quite bring herself to call it an anxiety disorder—then at least Elsa was dealing with it. She was trying. Always trying.

She tied the laces right on the fifth try.

Her hips still felt stiff, and Coach Cindy had given her a look earlier, while she was stretching. Her habits were falling off. Her flexibility was down, just barely. Just slightly.

Elsa rolled her shoulders. She’d just have to try harder.

She glanced up and saw a camera focused on her. Somewhere back home, Anna was watching them run through Elsa’s bio.

The thought of Anna watching made her smile, a real smile. Sitting on the couch with their father, Anna was probably grinning ear to ear. Anna, who confused her and loved her unconditionally, the girl who kept believing in her. The same one Elsa kept trying for, who had kissed her on accident in the middle of a sleepy goodbye, prefaced by a sleepy goodluck.

“I know you’re gonna kill it out on the ice. Break a leg and whatever.”

Elsa had said that was for theatre, but, as she pressed down her anxiety, trying to appear perfectly composed for the close-up, she couldn’t think of what else to call her circumstances.

If they were running her bio, they were probably interspersing it with shots of her summer performances and commentary on those performances.

Her summer anxiety roared back to life, rife with a thousand soundbytes ticking off everything she did wrong in her routine.

Her ankles felt stiff. Elsa wanted to relace her skates. Her Anna smile had disappeared and she couldn’t focus on Coach Cindy’s last pep talk.

She skated out onto the ice, and it felt wrong, but she lifted her face to the crowd out of habit, waited for her music to start, to clear out the Greek tragedy chorus of summer soundbytes from her head.

When her music started, everything cleared. Force of habit and endless hours of practice, of dedication. Nothing else could invade her mind in that first crystalline moment.

Then she landed the first jump and felt, more than thought, the feeling of having over-practiced. That strange danger of being too versed, and its accompanying ability to let in wandering thoughts when absolute focus should reign.

“—Elsa Sommerset’s performances this season—”

“—strong on her jumps, but as for—”

Elsa knew in midair that everything was wrong.

“—bobble in her twizzle—”

Wrong wrong wrong. The jump, it

“—gonna kill it out on the ice—”

The landing!

Snap.

“—Break a leg and whatever.”

.

Section III End

Chapter Text

“How’re you holding up, Elsa?” Anna asked.

“I’m just glad we’re almost out,” Elsa said, pushing herself off the elevator wall where she’d been leaning.

Anna slipped her arm around Elsa’s waist to support her and was surprised to find it didn’t fit in quite the same place as it used to. She hadn’t stood next to Elsa standing in over a two months, but her body had apparently taken the opportunity to grow just a bit taller.

Weird. Or maybe it was just Elsa’s limp that made her seem a bit shorter?

“Just be careful, Anna,” Idunn cautioned from behind them.

Anna rolled her eyes since Idunn couldn’t see her. “I’m just giving her a little extra stability. It certainly can’t hurt her at this point.”

“I’m fine, Mom,” said Elsa from beside her. Anna glanced over to see that Elsa’s alert, focused expression had started to glaze over.

“Hey, Elsa, we’re almost outside.” She smiled and kept smiling until Elsa finally glanced over. Her lips twitched toward resembling a smile in return. That was enough for Anna. She gave Elsa’s waist a squeeze as they walked through the hospital doors.

Immediately upon exiting, Anna noticed Elsa glance around. “Hey, you wanna sit down?”

“Yeah...” Elsa seemed to fix on a bench beside some landscaping, so Anna started walking with her toward it.

Idunn came and sat on Elsa’s other side. “It’s a good thing your car isn’t far,” she said, patting Elsa’s shoulder. “I need to get going. I have a meeting with a client, but you’re going to be fine getting home, right?”

Elsa shrugged. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

Anna met Idunn’s worried eyes and smiled tightly, then nodded. She’d make sure Elsa got home safely and, whatever issues she had with the woman, she wouldn’t let Elsa’s mother worry about her too much.

Idunn’s shoulders loosened when she saw Anna’s nod, and smiled briefly in return before her attention refocused on her daughter. “Home isn’t far, Elsa. Just drive slowly, then take a nice bath when you get home and scrub that leg. Treat yourself, but don’t forget that you have finals next week.”

“I know,” Elsa said.

“We’ll be fine,” Anna added, giving Elsa’s waist a quick squeeze. “I’ll make sure she stays on track.”

Idunn’s expression softened into pure gratefulness and Anna couldn’t decide if she hated how the woman didn’t trust Elsa’ word anymore, or if she was just happy that Idunn had finally accepted that Anna had things with Elsa in hand. She was a good support and honest to god they could trust her to help Elsa out.

“Thank you, Anna,” Idunn said, standing up. “I’ll see you both for dinner tonight.” She planted a kiss on Elsa’s forehead before heading over to her car.

“See you,” Anna said, waiting for Idunn to turn around before scrunching her nose. She knew she disliked how the woman was doing nothing whatsoever to hide how little faith she had in her daughter. It was one thing to rely on Anna, but it was another thing entirely to be so blatant about it in front of Elsa.

She turned to face Elsa. “You rested enough to get moving?”

Elsa shook her head. “Just another minute,” she said.

Anna nodded. “Mkay. It’s gonna be different, without the crutches now, huh. Thankfully your hall pass lasts another couple weeks, so you should have plenty of time to make it to classes, huh.”

Elsa shrugged.

Anna glanced around. “I’m sure you’ll be back to your old strength soon. Remember: you’ve got physical therapy tomorrow afternoon.”

A flicker of a smile crossed Elsa’s face. “My upper body strength is better than ever, at least.”

“Yeah! Those crutches are no easy deal.” Anna grinned. “Remember when I gave them a try? I got tired so fast.” She’d crutched around to coax a smile out of Elsa one Saturday afternoon and had nearly fallen over before getting tired after just a few minutes. But, eventually, Elsa had indeed smiled. That’s what mattered.

A car honked and they both turned. Idunn waved before pulling out of the parking lot, and they both waved back.

“I’m ready to go now,” Elsa said immediately, tossing an arm over Anna’s shoulder.

Anna raised an eyebrow, but helped her to stand. “Alright, let’s head home. It’s a quick drive.”

Elsa didn’t reply as they made their slow way over to her car. Anna’s suspicions grew as Elsa squeezed her shoulder to signal a stop before she got to the driver’s side.

“What’s the problem?” Anna asked carefully.

Elsa wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Can you drive us?”

Anna glanced around. Nobody nearby. “Elsa, are you serious?” She huffed and tugged Elsa along the last few steps until they were beside the car, so that Elsa could lean against it. Anna took a step back so she could cross her arms and glare at the older girl properly. “C’mon, you can do it. We’re not even that far from home.”

Elsa leaned back against the car, shifting the weight off of her weaker leg. She smiled weakly. “Exactly?”

Anna sighed and looked away. “Els, I know things are really rough for you, but we’re gonna get caught if I keep doing this.”

Elsa didn’t respond, so Anna glanced back toward her after a moment. The older girl wouldn’t meet her gaze. She stepped forward and tilted her head up to give Elsa a kiss on the cheek before she pulled her (gently) into a hug. “It’s gonna be okay,” she whispered.

After a pause, Elsa hugged her back. “I’m just... so tired. I keep worrying that I’m gonna get too tired and just stop caring about everything in the middle of the drive, the same way I keep just not caring in the middle of class.”

Anna just squeezed her tighter for a moment. “Just one more time, Elsa,” she whispered.

“I won’t ask again,” Elsa murmured.

As she pulled back, Anna unclipped Elsa’s keys (and attached worry stone) from her belt loop and smiled. “You’re not gonna need to, because you’re gonna get better and it’s gonna be alright, Elsa.”

As she helped Elsa to the passenger side, Anna had to hold back a sigh at the absent look in Elsa’s eyes. But she did note a ghost of a smile, more content than happy, on Elsa’s lips.

That was enough. At least for now. From what Elsa told her, her therapist thought she was about on-track for her psychological recovery. Anna got into the car and, after a beat, put the key in the ignition.

Elsa would get better in time. And once Anna got her permit in a few months, it wouldn’t be quite as illegal to drive.

She pulled out carefully, and started to drive them home. Anna was certain to stay clearly under the speed limit as she pulled out of the hospital parking lot and onto the main road.

Adgar and Idunn would be... upset if the knew, but they’d realistically be more worried about Elsa than about the illegal driving, frankly. Despite breaking several rules, Anna had yet to cross them so terribly as to merit some sort of Punishment-with-a-capital-P. She kind of suspected they were loathe to set actual parental boundaries.

Anna’s mother would have grounded her if she knew, but that’s because she was actually Anna’s parent, so.

A car passed her in the left and Anna refocused on the road. Thinking of her mother while driving never led to her anxiety over the activity lessening, so she generally tried to avoid it.

She glanced at Elsa and cleared her throat. “I’m here to support you, always. You know that, right?” Even if her mother would be furious, surely she would understand that she was taking this risk to help Elsa.

And at least Elsa’s car wasn’t a manual. That would have been a bit more difficult.

“I know,” Elsa said. She was looking out the window, not meeting the glances Anna was giving her in between checking the road. “I’m sorry that you have to, though.”

Elsa’s hand strayed into the space between their seats. Anna fought with her desire to hold it and her caution toward safety before compromising. Taking one hand from the wheel, she briefly squeezed Elsa’s hand, then returned it to its place.

“Is it easier to ride a horse?” Elsa asked.

“Huh?” Anna scrunched her nose. “Is what easier?”

“Is it easier to ride than to drive?”

“Oh! Horses are easier by far. They’re alive. They move under you, with you. It’s easier by far.” She flexed her fingers on the wheel. “I’ve got this thing in a deathgrip, but the car can’t tell, the car doesn’t care. If I were holding the reins this tightly, any horse would know I was nervous. Or just bad. Probably both.”

“We’re almost home,” Elsa said. “And I won’t ask you again.”

Anna sighed. “I... I’m here to support you, Elsa, not carry you.” She’d been edging more toward the latter, over the past few weeks, but that was only because Elsa couldn’t stand. Metaphorically as well as literally. “So... the next time you’re feeling this lethargic about the driving thing, I’ll hug you in the parking lot, or hold your hand while driving. Er, maybe just rest a hand on your shoulder.”

As they passed a police car, Anna held her breath, then continued. “I’ve been making the decisions I thought were best, but I can’t make this one again. You can do this, and I really do believe in you. You’re getting better and you’re only gonna keep getting better.”

A long silence, and then a whispered, “You think so?”

“I know so.” Anna nodded vigorously as she pulled into the driveway. It took a few tries to get into the garage straight. Or at least mostly straight. As straight as Anna could manage, she told herself, given that she wasn’t.

After parking, she hopped out of the car and, out of habit, went around and pulled Elsa’s crutches out of the back before meeting her on the passenger side. It wasn’t until Elsa made her halting, cautious way out the door that Anna realized her mistake.

“Shit, I completely forgot you didn’t need these anymore.” She leaned against the garage wall and pressed her palm against her forehead. “This is gonna take some re-readjusting.”

Elsa’s smile, rare as it was recently, made Anna’s embarrassment and blush worth it. “It’s fine. I was actually sitting in the car, waiting for you to bring them around. It wasn’t until you did that I remembered I didn’t need them.”

Elsa shut the door behind her, which pushed her closer toward Anna, who just blushed deeper as it became further obvious just how bad her parking had been. Their faces were suddenly rather close, and the car was at such a bad angle that there really wasn’t room for Elsa to make it around the car to the front.

“Sorry,” Anna said, grimacing as she stepped back. “Here, just put a hand on my shoulder and I’ll lead us around.

It took a minute or two, but they eventually extricated themselves and Anna helped Elsa up the garage steps into the kitchen. Then to the front hall, then up the stairs. By the time they’d reached the bathroom, Anna could see that Elsa’s energy was waning.

“Hey,” she said gently, catching Elsa’s attention as she started the water in the soaker tub. “Don’t forget that you get a nice, long bath today. You can finally soak your leg, take some time to relax?”

Elsa wouldn’t quite meet her eyes as Anna determined the water was warm enough and stopped the drain. “And you know what else will make this even better?”

It took several long moments and Anna crossing the bathroom to start pulling Elsa’s hoodie off for the other girl to answer with a decidedly unenthusiastic, “What?”

Anna grinned. “A bubble bath!”

Elsa didn’t react. Anna bit her lip. “I mean,” she added. “If you want one.”

A smile, very small, but there. “Sure, Anna.”

Anna smiled gently back. “Treat yourself, and enjoy it, Elsa.” She grabbed some bubble bath from the closet, then added some to the water. It immediately began bubbling up and Anna wished she could take one too. “I’m gonna go work on homework,” she said. She didn’t mention how behind she was. that would just stress Elsa out. “Call me if you need something.”

“... Um. Alright,” Elsa replied, reaching down to pull her shirt off.

Turning on her heel, Anna quickly exited and shut the door behind her. After reaching the safety of her own room, she facepalmed. “Call me if you need something?” she grumbled. “The hell, Anna? She’s seventeen, not seven. She can take a goddamn bath on her own for crying out loud.”

Shaking her head, Anna sat down at her desk and started pulling her homework together, arranging it by priority the way Elsa did, or used to. Through some stroke of fortune, she’d actually started picking up better study habits through helping Elsa keep her impossible schedule managed earlier in the semester.

The only reason Anna was behind was because she’d been, perhaps (but only maybe, slightly maybe), too focused on Elsa over the past several weeks. But... looking over her sorted homework, Anna couldn’t even properly call herself ‘behind’ in the way she used to. Making a list of reasonable goals to accomplish that afternoon, and each afternoon for the rest of the week, it wasn’t even overwhelming. She’d just been accustomed to spending ridiculous amounts of time being productive with Elsa that cutting that back, even slightly, made her feel like she was about to lost track of everything.

Anna blinked. “Shit.” She sat back in her chair as things clicked. If that’s how she felt, after half a semester of that sort of focused work, then it was probably triply worse for Elsa, who seemed to have trouble focusing for the first time in her life. It had been a chore to try and keep Elsa on top of her homework, but that was probably because it all felt bigger than it was, especially since Anna knew Elsa had been working ahead.

If she could help Elsa keep it together in time to make it to Winter Break, it would probably give them both (but particularly Elsa) the opportunity to start the next semester with a fresh slate. Then Elsa could get back to working ahead again and life probably wouldn’t feel as much like drowning.

Before she could process any further, Anna thought she heard her name called and stood up. Adgar and Idunn weren’t due to be home until dinner.

“Anna? Can you come here?”

The call was faint, but definitely Elsa. Apparently it wasn’t too ridiculous to tell Elsa to call her, since she had.

She walked to the bathroom door and knocked. “What is it, Elsa? I’m outside.”

“Yeah? Um.” Elsa’s voice quieted. “Can you come in?”

A beat. “Oh. Sure.” Anna opened the door a moment later and stepped inside. The bathroom was a bit steamy, the mirror all fogged up and she realized that she hadn’t turned the fan on. “Oh, sorry,” she said, flipping the switch. “I totally forgot the fan.” If she didn’t turn around to face Elsa, that was fine. They were just not-sister people who were super close, but didn’t really change or be naked in front of one another.

“Oh, yeah. That. Um, I actually wanted something else?”

Anna told herself that she hadn’t been focused inordinately on the lightswitch plate. It was just weird that Elsa was in a bath. “Oh. Sure, anything.” When Anna first arrived, Elsa seemed to go out of her way to give her privacy in their shared bathroom. They’d just kind of kept the habit up and it was strange beyond words that Elsa was, you know, bathing. In the tub. At the same time that Anna was in the room. She forced her gaze off the lightswitch plate and turned around.

Elsa was slumped in a tub that was distinctly more bubbly than was generally advised. Only her head, shoulders, and knees were visible above them. Anna grimaced. “I’m sorry if there’s too much bubble bath,” she said. She managed not to say her first thought, which was gratefulness that Elsa had bubbles to wear, because actual nudity would have been weirder.

“The bubbles are fine.” Elsa shook her head. “It’s simply that I’m having some trouble, ah...” She trailed off and trained her gaze on the tile wall. “My flexibility is not quite up to par. And the muscles, you know, atrophy.”

Anna blinked. “Yeah?” She could tell Elsa was having trouble saying whatever she needed to say and felt a bit stupid and helpless for being unable to interpret better for her.

Elsa’s eyes flickered to meet hers, then shifted away. “I’m having trouble reaching my leg to wash it,” she murmured. “Can you do it for me?”

Before Anna could properly process the request, her mouth answered, “Of course,” because it was such an ingrained habit, at this point, to help Elsa with whatever she needed. And then before she could think about it any more, she quickly moved to the shower and removed the stool Elsa had been using for the past two months.

She set the stool at the edge of the tub and sat down. “Just, uh, hand your leg to me and I’ll take care of it.” She tried to smile winningly, but it felt awkward on her lips.

“Thanks you, Anna.” Elsa shifted and lifted her left leg, from the knee down, out of the bubbly water.

Anna slipped a hand under her ankle carefully. When her fingertips touched Elsa’s warm, dripping skin, the other girl jerked slightly, tugging her leg away from Anna’s hand for a moment before setting it back down. “Sorry,” she squeaked before Anna could react.

“Is there something wrong?” Anna narrowed her eyes and reached over to touch Elsa’s ankle with her other hand. “Is the break bothering you?”

Elsa’s leg twitched as Anna’s other hand touched it. “N-no,” she said. “It’s just... I don’t think... My skin there feels really, uh, sensitive. There’s been no sensation, nothing touching it since the cast. The hem of my jeans felt strange, and the shoes felt stranger, but...” Elsa seemed to be looking for something else to focus on, casting her glance around the room. Anna had been avoiding looking at her face earlier, so now she couldn’t tell whether or not Elsa was blushing, or if her cheeks were just flushed from the heat of the water.

Anna couldn’t decide whether or not she should try to wash Elsa’s leg. She shifted her hand awkwardly and winced when she caused a shiver to run up Elsa’s back.

“Sorry!” she said.

“No, no. It’s fine. I just... the skin is kinda sensitive, and, in particular, I haven’t had any skin to skin contact there in a while. So everything feels oddly heightened.” Elsa’s immediate embarrassment over the feeling seemed to have been absorbed, or at least temporarily overrun, by curiosity. Elsa’s eyes were wide and focused and she was as alert as Anna had seen her in weeks. “It just feels so strange, the touch of your skin on mine. It’s just my ankle, but I feel as though, if I focused, I could pick out the ridges of your palms.”

“How odd.” Anna blinked and looked back at Elsa’s leg. “I don’t suppose you can do a palm reading? I could use some guidance for which sections to study for finals—HEY!”

Anna screeched as Elsa flicked her foot, splashing water toward her. “No cheating for finals, Anna,” Elsa admonished. “You’re gonna have to study for hours and hours the old fashioned way.” Her smile spread in a broad grin that Anna hadn’t seen for weeks, almost the same as it used to be.

In a way, it was almost surreal. Elsa back to normalish and smiling, joking. Except instead of them lying together on Anna’s bed, chatting, Anna was holding Elsa’s leg as she reclined, naked, in a bubble bath.

And she’d almost forgotten the naked and bath part. Anna blushed as she laughed. It was just too much. “Okay no palm reading,” she managed. “But I’m gonna have to wash your nasty cast-leg or the water’s gonna get cold.”

For a moment, Anna was afraid that the normal-Elsa moment was going to disappear back into whatever place it came from. But it just softened and Elsa replied, “That’s fine, I guess you can get to it.” She reached back and handed a loofah to Anna. “Thanks for helping me by the way. I’ll try to keep still a little better.”

“As long as you don’t kick me in the face, I think I can manage.” Anna flashed her a wink and started washing her leg from the knee down. Elsa was a bit twitchy, but managed to stay relatively still. They fell into a low-pressure dialogue about upcoming finals and Elsa was actually remembering all her classes without prompting.

All in all, it felt... normal. Normal despite the odd undertones of the sensitive skin conversation. Normal despite the nudity and the bath thing and the fact that Anna started washing faster as the outrageous amount of bubbles started to even out into a less opaque covering. Well, that part felt less normal. Despite the fan venting the bathroom’s warm air, Anna felt her cheeks getting rather warm as she eventually handed the loofah back to Elsa and stood up.

“I’ll see you in my room later?” she asked, drying off her arms and hands.

“Studying for finals?” And Elsa didn’t seem opposed. Her expression wasn’t as happy as before, but it had a contentedness to it that was a decent alternative. Anna wasn’t as worried about it, at least.

She smiled. “Yep. Gotta get going on the hybrid Elsa-Anna Method of study.”

Elsa tilted her head. “What method is that?”

“Where you study like hell, a la Elsa,” she answered, opening the door. “But also take reasonable breaks, eat snacks, and sometimes insist on snuggles to restore morale, a la Anna.” She slipped out the door and poked her head back in.

Elsa was looking at her over a bare shoulder. “I think I could be amenable,” she said. “I’ll head over once I’m dry and dressed.”

“See you then!” Anna smiled and shut the door. She only made it a step away before Elsa called her name again.

She poked her head back through the door. “Yes?”

Elsa had turned a bit so she wasn’t looking over her shoulder as much. “I... do you think we could start off with some cuddles? I... I’m having some difficulties maintaining or, well, getting any morale in the first place.”

“Of course, Elsa.” Anna tilted her head. “I’ll be ready for cuddles when you get there.” She winked and shut the door again.

Behind her, Elsa called, “I’m counting on you!”

Anna just smiled. She already knew that.

Chapter Text

Adgar cleared his throat over breakfast. “Elsa, I don’t suppose you could fetch the mail for me?”

Anna abruptly stood up, breakfast mostly-eaten. “I’ve got it!” she chirped, moving to clear her plate to the sink.

Elsa frowned. “Anna, I can—”

“No, no.” Anna shook her head as she rinsed her plate. “I’m already up. You should finish your breakfast.”

“Is this about my ankle?” Elsa sounded weary, but defensive. Anna focused on getting her breakfast dishes into the dishwasher as quickly as possible. “Because I’m telling you, I can make it to the mailbox just fine.”

“Nope I just really feel like getting the mail today.” Anna waved as she slipped out of the kitchen.

“As long as someone gets the mail,” Adgar grumbled from behind a coffee mug, “I don’t care who it is.”

Elsa said something else, a quiet protest, as Anna slipped on a coat and a pair of rainboots. She flashed another smile at the breakfast table before disappearing out the front door.

Immediately, she wished she was wearing more than her pajamas underneath the coat. The third day of winter break had decided to treat them to a ‘dusting’ of eight inches of snow. She shivered as she hurried down to the mailbox. Tennessee had never gotten over half a foot with any sort of consistency. Even after a three years, she still didn’t feel used to it. Everyone else, on the other hand, didn’t seem to bat an eye about it.

Anna’s eye twitched. Of course the mailbox was frozen over. She yanked at the handle until the ice chipped and door flew open.

Plenty of letters, most of them for Adgar or Idunn. Anna shut the mailbox and started stomping her way back to the house, flipping through the envelopes with frigid fingers, looking for—

“Here we go.” Her lips pulled into something too strained to be a proper smile as her eyes skimmed over a pair of matching envelopes addressed to ‘Elsa Sommorsett’ and ‘Anna Wintergale’ from their school. Along with them was another letter to Elsa from a college in California. She pulled the matching envelopes aside and left the college letter with the rest of the mail, hurrying to retrace her steps back to the relative shelter of the porch.

Anna stopped outside the front door, stomping her feet as she turned away from the wind to unzip her coat, just a bit. As quickly as possible, she tried to maneuver the matching envelopes, the report cards, into her pajama top’s pocket. The angle was awkward, and she hadn’t opened her coat much. She also only had one hand to do it, since the other was holding the rest of the mail.

She’d just gotten them into the pocket when a cold gust whipped past. Anna shivered and rushed to zip her coat back up. Underneath her pajamas, her nipples felt pert and hard from the chill. Warmth rose to her cheeks in the form of a blush. The exact texture of her top against her chest was... distracting. With Elsa sharing her bed so frequently, Anna hadn’t been able to take care of certain needs quite as regularly.

The warmth of the foyer wrenched a satisfied, relieved moan from her lips. Anna slammed the door behind her and relished the warmth.

She would never dream of kicking Elsa out, but she couldn’t deny that her presence was sometimes inconvenient. Especially lately, with the urge more frequent, more frustrating.

Anna slipped the boots off. “I’m back!” she called.

“Did anything come for me?” Idunn walked out from the kitchen, sipping her coffee.

Turning her body so Idunn wouldn’t see Anna reposition the report cards in her pocket as she pulled the coat off, she nodded. “You’ve. Got. Mail,” she said, imitating the AOL chime.

Idunn chuckled. “Good to hear,” she said.

Anna finished hanging up her coat before turning around to give Idunn the stack of mail. “Here you go,” she said with a smile, conveniently slipping a hand into her pocket to make sure Idunn didn’t see the envelopes.

“Thank you, Anna.” Idunn nodded, awkward and a bit formal, the usual for them. Anna just smiled before starting up the stairs to her room, pressing the envelopes against her body.

She slipped into her room without incident and locked the door behind her before going over to her desk and grabbing her little-used letter opener (snatched from her mother’s desk while searching for keepsakes) to get to the contents inside.

Anna skimmed her own grades first. Nothing unexpected. Not perfect, but nothing bad. Lower than her average, but that was probably because she’d spent half the semester looking after Elsa.

Her eyes flickered to the second envelope. She hesitated, then set her grades aside and unfolded the paper with Elsa’s grades on it. Anna winced. It would have been good for her, personally, but Elsa would be devastated. Elsa also wouldn’t take into account that she’d spent half the semester in crutches, recovering from a terrible accident that had sent her into a horrific downward spiral of depression.

A knock at the door, then someone trying to turn the handle. It clicked against the lock a few times.

Anna quickly folded the report cards back up and stuffed them in their envelopes as Elsa called from beyond the door, “Anna? Why is your door locked?”

“Oh, sorry,” Anna said, stashing the envelopes under some papers on her desk. “I was just going to get dressed and then forgot to unlock it.” She crossed the room and turned the lock before opening the door. “My bad, Elsa,” she said, smiling.

Elsa frowned. “Um, Anna, you’re still in your pajamas.”

“Oh!” Anna looked down. “Whoops! I got a bit, uh, side-tracked. You’re still up to going out today, right?” Anna crossed back to her dresser and started pulling clothes out for the day.

“Sure, going out sounds... nice. I’d like to get out of the house for a bit. I asked, um, Idunn for some Christmas spending money too. She gave me some pre-loaded cards to use.”

“That’s handy,” Anna said, setting her clothes on the bed. “Money is generally required for shopping, last I checked.” Despite Anna giving all the standard I-am-about-to-change cues, Elsa seemed to remember to turn around only as Anna started unbuttoning her pajama top.

“Yep!” Elsa said. “Money is a thing. We need it. Gotta buy presents... you know, make people happy and all that.” Her voice seemed to fall on the last few words.

“You mean you don’t want to steal anything?” Anna kept her tone light, hoping to pull the mood up as she pulled on her bra for the day. She sternly ignored how her nipples firmed in the air (reminding her that yes she was still kind of horny) and focused on Elsa instead. After a moment, her eyes narrowed. Elsa’s hands kept twitching, grasping the air out of a habit of holding her worry stone. It was a tell that Elsa couldn’t seem to stop, but always meant she was anxious.

“Nope. Morals and all.” Elsa’s voice sounded distant, and her reply was late, off the cadence of the conversation.

Anna frowned and quickly pulled on the rest of her clothes. As soon as she was dressed, she roll-vaulted across her bed and wrapped her arms around Elsa in a surprise hug. “Hey Elsa!”

The other girl jumped in her grasp a bit, but didn’t squeak or make a sound. Anna pulled back after a beat and moved so she was between Elsa and the wall, able to see her face. “Hey,” she said again, softly. “You sure you’re up to go out?”

Elsa nodded, barely. “My ankle is alright,” she said, eyes averted. “I’ll be alright walking through the mall.”

“I’m not worried about keeping up with the grannies mall-walking, Elsa,” Anna said. She put a hand on Elsa’s shoulder to pull her a bit closer. “I’m concerned about you. Your emotions. It’s been a rough semester.” Anna’s eyes flickered to where Elsa’s report card was hidden on her desk.

Elsa could have her grades when she could handle it. Anna couldn’t stop Elsa from defining her self worth by her report card, but she could at least wait until Elsa was having a good day, when it might hurt a little less.

She tilted Elsa’s chin up, so their eyes could meet. Anna smiled. “Hey, it’s gonna be alright though, you know that right?”

The reply was wordless, just an expression of sad skepticism.

Anna pulled her into a hug. “I know it’s so hard for you right now,” she said. “And I know I can’t make it all better. But do you remember going to the diner before the start of the semester?” She waited for Elsa to nod into her shoulder before continuing. “Remember what I said about supporting one another? As equals?”

Another nod, this one a bit stronger. Anna gave Elsa one last squeeze before pulling back out of the hug. “You used to try and be my mom, and I can kind of understand the urge right now.” Anna smiled crookedly. “I was hurting and you wanted to help me, but you couldn’t replace my mom. Nobody can.” A small pit of grief threatened to close her throat for a moment, but Anna was able to continue after a pause. “And I can’t be your mom, I can’t be, I can’t be your skating, I can’t be what you lost.

“I can’t seem to figure out how to be your sister, it feels like.” A shrug. Anna felt off-track from where her speech was supposed to go, but Elsa’s gaze was rapt with attention. Anna cleared her throat, heat rising in her cheeks. “A-and I just know that you’re really important to me, and I’m here to support you as your Anna because you are my Elsa. And it’s dumb but in my psych class I learned that spending money on yourself doesn’t make you as happy as buying presents does, so...” Anna shrugged, grip tightening on Elsa’s shoulder for a moment.

“Yeah. It’s wintertime and we buy presents for people. That’s a thing. I want to get you out of the house and smiling, thinking about how to make other people happy. Beside you, not following or leading you. Just with you, and helping in the small way I can.” She leaned forward and impulsively pressed a kiss to Elsa’s cheek.

She didn’t have to lean far. They hadn’t pulled back very far out of the hug. As Anna pulled away, Elsa’s lips planted a quick kiss to her cheek in return, then formed a shy smile as her eyes met Anna’s.

“Thank you,” Elsa said, voice thick with sincerity. She seemed more alive than before, cheeks mildly flushed and eyes bright.

Anna grinned. “You’re welcome,” she said.

They stayed like that, arms still half around one another with Anna’s back almost against the wall, for a long moment that neither of them seemed about to end. Anna’s blush deepened as she noted that Elsa was slightly taller than her, and that she liked that.

“Anna! Elsa!” They jumped apart at the sound of Adgar’s voice from downstairs. “Are you two still going out shopping?”

Elsa recovered first, going to the door and opening it before shouting, “Yeah, be down in a minute!” Her smile looked like it could light the room, and then she disappeared out the door. “Last one to the car is a rotten egg!” she called childishly.

Anna blinked before dashing out after her. “Wait! Elsa! You shouldn’t race down the stairs on your ankle!”

The mall was crowded with holiday shoppers and, just a few feet past the door, Anna grabbed Elsa’s hand so they could navigate through a dense throng of people outside of an overrated cheesecake shop.

And then, as they kept walking, it took Anna a minute to realize that they hadn’t let go of one another’s hands. She debated pulling away for a moment, then changed her mind. Elsa’s hand in hers felt natural, and it kept them in-step next to one another as they chatted and debated about which store to enter first. Low-pressure conversation, and, as they started going into stores low-pressure shopping.

Having money was nice. Anna was pretty sure that the budget Idunn had given each of them was greater than what her mother’s whole Christmas fund. It felt decadent, ridiculous.

But, as she dialogued with Elsa about which kitchen gadget Tiana would like best, Anna was at least grateful that money wasn’t one of the problems Elsa had to worry about.

Anna’s mother had worried and worried and told her a dozen lessons about frugality that didn’t mattern anymore.

She gripped her shopping bag a bit tighter, then tried to relax when Elsa turned to her with a look of concern. Apparently she’d squeezed Elsa’s hand as well.

Anna summoned a smile. “It’s nothing, just had a moment.” She loosened her grip on Elsa’s hand and refocused herself on shopping, on maintaining momentum and keeping Elsa preoccupied and happy.

As they browsed through stores, being looser with money than Anna had ever been in her whole life (had Idunn given them extra to help keep Elsa’s thoughts away from her ankle?) Anna found herself faced with temptation. Everything she wanted to get for Elsa was too expensive, or she wanted to get Elsa a dozen smaller presents. She just wanted her not-sister person to open it up and smile when she saw it. Once everyone else on her checklist had received presents, everything she saw started being evaluated on the criteria of ‘but would it be a good present for Elsa?’

A locket, white gold with a snowflake pattern, caught her eye. Anna slipped away from Elsa and bought it immediately. She’d have to coordinate a time to take a picture of the two of them together, but once that was accomplished she could get it printed in time to slip inside the locket.

Anna ignored the voice in her head that noted Elsa’s present had been almost three times the price as anything she’d bought for anyone else. Even with that, she still had around $30 left on the card Idunn had given her.

“You about done, Elsa?” she asked.

“Just about,” Elsa said, “How about you?”

“I’m all done, but I was just thinking.” Anna nodded toward a movie ad. “Do you wanna see that new Disney movie before we head home?”

Then Elsa’s content smile broadened, sharpening into something that exuded warmth and affection. “I’d like that a lot,” she said softly.

Anna blinked. “O-okay,” she said, looking away as she felt her own smile threatening to pull to one side, almost flustered. “Just let me know when you’re done?”

“I will.” Elsa winked. “I just need to get your present. Do you mind waiting here?”

“Nope,” Anna said, sitting down on a nearby bench. “I’ll just be here. Waiting. For you.”

“Alright,” Elsa said, “be back soon.”

Anna sat and looked at nothing and thought about Elsa.

They went to the movie theatre.

And Anna sat and looked at nothing and thought about Elsa, who sat beside her in the dark theatre, holding her hand.

It hadn’t even been a question, holding hands. No fumbling or worry that Elsa wouldn’t want to, or that the timing was bad. They’d just sat down and held hands.

On-screen, the love interests finally reached out, fingers tentative, and clasped hands. They blushed and smiled afterward, glowing with affection.

Elsa squeezed her hand and Anna looked over. The reflection from the screen only caught the edges of her cheeks, but she could tell that Elsa was smiling. Then she leaned forward. Instinctively, Anna leaned in too.

“Thanks for taking me out today,” Elsa whispered in her ear. “I know I’m not the easiest person to be with right now, but I just want to thank you for not giving up on me.”

“Never,” Anna whispered, glad that the darkness hid her pink cheeks.

Then they both leaned back and watched the comic-relief sidekick break into a song that got the whole theatre giggling. Anna couldn’t help but look beside her to watch how Elsa touched her fingertips to her lips as she laughed. Then Elsa turned and her smile shifted, twisting as she caught Anna looking at her.

“Watch the movie, Anna,” she whispered. Anna caught the hint of Elsa rolling her eyes in the dark, the tilt of her head right before she grabbed a piece of popcorn and playfully pushed it into Anna’s mouth.

She chewed it awkwardly, half coughing because it was so unexpected, half coughing because as Elsa’s fingers brushed against her lips blood had rushed to her cheeks, making them darker than before.

Anna turned and watched the movie after that, but found she couldn’t focus very well on the screen with Elsa tracing circles with her thumb. Then, as the love interests leaned forward on the movie, Anna knew they couldn’t kiss yet because it was too soon and Disney Movie Pacing had rules.

Instead her lips tingled where Elsa had touched them, and with the memory of the brief, accidental kiss she and Elsa had shared right before she left for her competition. It hadn’t felt off, or all that different from the chaste cheek-kisses they shared almost daily.

Anna shifted in her seat, suddenly needy. She hadn’t been able to masturbate in weeks because of how Elsa shared her bed so frequently. Almost as frequently, they’d started sleeping closer together, Elsa’s hips pressed against hers under the covers at night. That almost seemed to make it worse, trying to still wandering thoughts with Elsa so close...

Abandoning the movie entirely, Anna paused her thoughts.

She struggled to discern the difference between platonic and romantic feelings. Elsa herself was even more complicated than that. Simple attraction, however, was generally a straightforward matter to realize for her.

Elsa squeezed her hand. Anna realized.

She frowned, then put the pieces together again and again and again.

She pulled her hand out of Elsa’s and ate a few pieces of popcorn, then set it back on the armrest. Elsa grasped her hand again almost immediately, and Anna caught and halted the smile that rose up inside of her, examined it and turned the response over in her head.

“Hey, Elsa,” she whispered, unable to bear pulling her hand away again.

“We’re not supposed to talk during movies,” Elsa whispered back.

Anna rolled her eyes. “I know,” she replied. “But are you busy on Saturday?”

“No.”

“Good.” Anna was already turning over the possibilities in her head, trying to pick a good candidate. “Because I’ve got a blind date in mind for you. Now that you aren’t as busy, do you think you’re up for someone new in your life?”

Elsa turned back to the screen and watched the movie for several seconds, contemplative. Eventually, she leaned back over. “I wasn’t looking, but if you have someone in mind, sure.” Elsa’s breath ghosted along the edge of Anna’s ear, and she suppressed a shiver.

Behind them, someone grumbled, “Would you please stop talking? Seriously? The movie is almost over,” which saved Anna from replying as she turned back to the screen and halfheartedly tried to piece together the plot that she’d missed.

Really, however, her attention remained on the question of who to call and set up with Elsa, who would be a good match and make her happy in a relationship kind of way. Who could make Elsa smile and laugh and take her on cute dates, because that role was absolutely off limits to Anna, who could barely stand to think that she’d briefly, wonderfully, considered it.

In that moment, it had seemed as lovely as Elsa's smile.

Chapter Text

Anna debated about waiting up for Elsa. She kissed her on the cheek as Elsa walked out the door, and then she debated and debated on her way up the stairs.

She debated staying up, then debated whether or not to re-bleach the stripe in her hair, which had grown out. It seemed easier to redo her hair than to try and think about potential motives she had for staying up, waiting for Elsa to come back from her date, so Anna got a box out and started prepping her hair, something physical and real to focus on.

Of course, she was in the middle of waiting for the bleach to set (on the roots of her old stripe and on the entire length of a new one) when it occurred to her that part of why she’d bleached it in the first place, part of why she’d liked it like that, was to get a bit of her to look like a bit of Elsa.

“Seriously?”

Anna leveled a glare at herself in the mirror, debating how ridiculous it would be to try and stop the process early, if it was worse to acknowledge that she was having second thoughts about the look because of what it implied, about what it would mean to her.

More debates, and even when they were different, they always seemed to end up being about the same thing.

She compromised, rinsing the new stripe out early, so it came out as a mid-tone, between her red and Elsa’s blonde. For the root of the old stripe, she left it in until it was as pale as Elsa’s hair. Though she hadn’t meant for the look to come out quite like that, she wound up running her hands through her hair, fairly pleased with the effect. The trio of tones, her natural color, the approximation of Elsa’s color, and the midtone between them, looked good together.

It occurred to her that the midtone shade was probably what their hair would look like, splayed on the bed together, mixed messily with their bodies close.

For a moment, Anna debated letting herself pursue the train of thought.

Then she shut it down, frustrated that the debates she kept having were even debates at all, that instead of just sending Elsa off on her date with Wendy she kept imagining what it would be like to take Elsa out to a nice place and grab dinner with her.

And not that they didn’t have dinner together plenty, but to do so in a way that made it special would be—

Anna ended the debate and went to bed early. She was not going to entertain the thoughts any longer. She was not going to wait up late for Elsa to get back.

She slipped between the sheets and tried to deny that her bed felt empty without Elsa in it until finally she grabbed the giant stuffed dog Idunn had given her and plopped it in Elsa’s space. Granted, it had been the dog’s space first, but the fact that it undeniably felt like Elsa’s space was something Anna couldn’t debate.

Drifting off refused to come easy that night. Anna tossed and turned, not even realizing she was denying a feeling, debating its existence, until one side one and all pretense of trying to sleep disappeared under a sudden flood of oh-shit-wow-I’m-horny.

And for once, there wasn’t someone else in her bed. Anna could have moaned with relief as she slipped a hand under her waistband and gently, finally, touched herself.

For once, her thoughts remained perfectly in line, keeping away from any thoughts of Elsa, fixed on the pure physicality of her fingers, on the tensing of her back.

If maybe, just before the tension vanished, a flash of blue eyes snuck in, well Anna barely had the post-orgasm energy to pull her hand out of her pants before she tumbled into sleep.

*

Shifting sheets, a weight on the bed, and a soft voice that whispered, “Anna, Anna.”

She stirred, blearily waking up to the sensation of Elsa crawling into her bed. Anna blinked. “Wha? Elsa?”

Arms wrapped around her from behind and Anna realized Elsa must have moved the dog back off the bed. “Who else slips into bed with you at midnight?” she asked.

Halfway to replying with a “your mom” joke, Anna caught herself and woke up a bit more. “Mostly just you,” she said instead, stifling a yawn.

“Well, you give high quality snuggles,” Elsa said, pulling Anna closer to her and threading their fingers together.

A moment later, Elsa pressed her cold, cold toes against the backs of Anna’s calves and she barely restrained a shriek, suddenly wide awake as she tried in vain to escape as they fell into a familiar, goofy game where Elsa kept pressing her cold toes against Anna’s warmer legs. They giggled quietly until their playing died down into Anna’s sigh as she allowed the cold toes a place next to her own.

“So how’d the date go?” Anna asked.

Elsa sighed a moment later, hugging Anna tighter for a moment before relaxing into their usual bodily balance. Elsa’s arms just-so, and the tilt of Anna’s shoulders just-there. For a moment, Anna found herself fixating on the proximity of Elsa’s hips to her own, how the swell of Elsa’s breasts pressed against her back and how neither of them were wearing a bra.

Anna debated pulling away in the pause before Elsa answered, because Elsa spooning her had started to feel too nice, almost awkward with how closely they’d started fitting together. But then... Elsa’s arms wrapped around Anna’s body, hands intertwined, felt too right to leave.

“The date was alright,” Elsa managed eventually.

“Alright, how?” Anna squeezed Elsa’s hand.

Elsa huffed. “Just alright, alright?”

Anna held back a huff and debated, again, whether or not she was too interested in Elsa’s date. Well, certainly she’d set Elsa up on the date, but the concern she could barely acknowledge was that she was too interested for the wrong reasons.

“Did you like the movie?”

A pause, then a noise that sounded like Elsa smiling as she exhaled sharply, her breath tickling the back of Anna’s neck. “Yeah, actually,” Elsa said. “It was a good pick.”

It took monumental effort for Anna to resist telling Elsa that she’d maybe-kinda-sorta told/hinted to Wendy which movie to pick for the date, which restaurant Elsa had been meaning to try for a while.

“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Anna said.

“Yeah,” Elsa said.

They lay together, quiet, for a long minute.

“Wendy was nice,” Elsa said.

“Oh?”

Elsa shrugged, adjusting her arms around Anna as though she’d suddenly noticed just how close they were under the covers. “She’s sweet and kind of bouncy and very cute but...” Elsa shrugged again. “But I got the sense that she thought I was...” Elsa stopped and Anna imagined that she had wrinkled her nose. “That she thought I was out of her league a bit, and kind of acted like it.”

“Better than someone who thinks she’s out of your league?” Anna offered.

“No,” Elsa said, shaking her head and resting her forehead against the back of Anna’s neck. Then she adjusted her arms, seeming restless. She set a hand on Anna’s hip and, for a moment, caused such distraction that Anna almost missed what Elsa said next. “I think you, and maybe Tiana too, a bit, kind of spoiled me. I only wanna be with someone who sees me as their match, their equal.”

“Partners in crime.” Anna added numbly.

“Exactly!” Elsa, in comparison, seemed more engaged than before, bouncing a bit behind Anna as she adjusted her position again, drumming her fingers on Anna’s hip. “I just... Wendy isn’t like you, and I don’t know. I like the classic dinner-and-a-movie setup. But Wendy just seemed so... attached to that classic romance style of things. I guess I hadn’t realized until now that I like bucking the trends a bit. Like you do.”

“Me?” Anna felt blood rushing in her ears, like Elsa’s voice was coming from much farther away than right behind her head.

“Yeah, like you, Anna” Elsa said. Her voice softened as she spoke, and Anna flushed. “Like how you’re so direct about how we need to support one another, about... about how you’re here to help me but you never try to impose yourself over me. You were willing to go for something so different, not just the standard sister script, and not using some other script, like the parental one I tried to fall into at first.” Her hand tightened on Anna’s hip. “You came and talked to me and we started writing our own way of doing things, and I just can’t imagine, now, being in a—a relationship, romantic or otherwise, that just follows the same, standard scripts set down by precedence.” Elsa took a deep breath, ending her ramble, and pressed a lingering kiss to the back of Anna’s neck. “You just make it so obvious that things can be different,” Elsa said, “and that different is... wonderful.”

Elsa’s words lingered in a few moments of sweet silence. Anna’s reply occurred to her, and she had a moment to stop herself from saying it, but couldn’t seem to manage before asking, “So did I go and ruin you for other women?” And she knew she shouldn’t have said, but, but also couldn’t stand not to know the answer.

Behind her, Elsa stilled. Her hand on Anna’s hip lightened, as if she wanted to pull it away, but to do so would be to acknowledge that it had been there at all. “Maybe,” she said voice trailing as though the answer had been dragged forth. Elsa took a deep breath, almost a sigh, and pulled away to lie on her back. After another long moment, she continued in a distant voice, as though the words would be less damning if she didn’t sound interested in them. “You’re just.... we are what I look for. What we have.”

Anna felt her emotions as though she were watching them in a jar. First: euphoria, tinged with blushes and a bit of delight at Elsa’s answer, at what part of her read in it and liked. Then: guilt, denial that the first feeling was accurate, or that it existed, coupled with shame for what it was.

The silence after Elsa’s response stretched too long, and, as Anna turned to lay on her back, she found on her lips the first reply that came to mind. “Well, I didn’t realize that your ideal relationship was so celibate.”

And at first nothing seemed wrong, because Anna had said it in the same tone she said most of her jests, the way she always poked fun at Elsa.

But then the silence reigned longer, even longer than before, and Anna knew that Elsa was thinking about things because Anna had said things that now Elsa was thinking about and that made it worse because then they were thinking of the same thing, which wasn’t an uncommon occurrence with them, honestly.

Except they weren’t usually simultaneously thinking of celibacy or lack thereof in their relationship.

Or... were they?

The silence continued, getting worse each second. Anna became convinced that if she didn’t find something to say, the two of them would lie in bed together, thinking of laying in bed together, until the inevitable heat death of the universe.

“Elsa,” she managed, “before you get too angsty about it, let’s just talk. We’ve always been able to talk.” A moment of brilliance struck and Anna sat up, snatching a small stuffed elephant off her windowsill and putting it in bed between them. “Something has come between us,” she waiting until Elsa turned toward her before continuing, “I think we need to talk about the elephant in the room.”

In the dark, Anna watched Elsa blink, once, then cover her eyes with a facepalm as she groaned. The tension broke on the quiet tones of Elsa’s laugh, and then Anna found she could laugh too, even when Elsa snatched the stuffed elephant off the bed and chucked it at Anna’s head.

Even seeing it coming, they were too close for Anna to dodge, so she took the hit then mock-fainted across Elsa’s lap, which turned into tickling Elsa’s tummy when she started hitting Anna with a pillow. At some point this turned into a two sided tickle match, and then Elsa surprise-flipped Anna over and they wrestled back and forth for another minute until Anna flipped Elsa back. Then, with Anna straddling Elsa’s hips, pinning her wrists against the bed, time stopped again.

They met one another’s eyes, a bit breathless in the dark of the room, and Elsa grinned. “We have to stop meeting like this,” she said.

“Why do we have to?” Anna asked, half reckless, half just wanting to talk about it.

Elsa’s grin faded. “What?”

“Meet like this.” Anna let go of Elsa’s wrists and slipped off of her, so she was sitting cross-legged in the bed, which had rather mussed sheets by now. “I know you notice them, the tensions. You’ve dated a few girls. I’ve dated a few people.” Anna shrugged. “I’m not good at discerning feelings, but I know well enough that when I keep ending up in rom-com poses with someone that something is up.”

“What makes you think I’ve noticed... whatever you’re talking about,” Elsa said, keeping her gaze averted as she sat up.

Anna shrugged again. “I dunno,” she said. “Everything? How you blush, how you smile at me, how our hands keep lingering where they maybe shouldn’t, and how neither of us seem to mind?” Elsa finally turned to look at her, and Anna raised her eyebrows. “How you do things like slip into my bed at midnight, after your date, and wrap your arms around me, play footsie, and do things like start wrestling matches with me in my bed.”

“You started that one,” Elsa said, petulant.

“No matter who started it,” Anna said, voice dry, “the fact remains that it’s not the first one, or even the first one that ended in a marginally compromising situation.”

Elsa was silent for a moment before, reluctantly, saying, “It was not.”

Anna wanted to say something else, but felt out of courage to do so. She was in the midst of gathering more when Elsa whispered, “Do you think about the kiss too? The accidental one?”

“Yeah,” Anna replied, voice dropping. “Do you... do your hands want to, um, wander, sometimes?”

Even in the dark, Elsa’s blush stood clearly against her cheeks. “Yes,” she managed in a choked voice. “Earlier,” she said, “I’m sorry I put my hand on—on your hip—”

“No I liked it,” Anna interrupted, before she could help herself.

Elsa pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging them. “You.... you’re attracted to me?” She asked, setting the words down gently, as though they might shatter.

Anna resisted the urge to yell something like “You’re fucking hot, Elsa, seriously?” and settled instead for a quiet, “Yeah, actually. I... I’m very much so attracted to you, Elsa.” After a moment, Anna buried her face in her hands. “Like wow,” she murmured. “Like a lot wow.”

“Same,” Elsa whispered. “I.... I’ve been trying not to think of it.”

Anna smiled and pulled her hands away from her face. “Is that because it’s narcissistic to be so attracted to yourself?”

Elsa rolled her eyes, the motion clear in the dark by the way she tossed her head to the side. “No, silly, because I’m attracted to you.” A moment after she said it, Elsa buried her face in her hands. “Shit,” she whispered. “Shit shit shit.”

“Same,” Anna said, feeling the tension drain out of her shoulders. If nothing else, at least the debate was over, the feelings-she-wasn’t-thinking-about weren’t some terrifying unknown.

She was just, you know, physically attracted to Elsa. Who yes, was her half-sister, but more importantly was Elsa.

“Do you have.... feelings?” Elsa asked, tone a neutral mix of feelings.

Immediately, a different debate raged up inside Anna’s mind. She forced it down. “I don’t know,” she said, honestly. “Platonic and romantic feelings get really mixed up for me, and with you... everything is already complicated, and I don’t know how I would differentiate that out.”

“Okay,” Elsa said, “that’s alright, I was just, um, curious.” She cleared her throat. “Things are... tense enough as it is,” she said. “So I think it would be best if we just kept things... limited. Less complicated.”

“So we just go on with regular, daily life like normal?” Anna asked.

“Yes,” Elsa said, emphatic. “But now we know, now we at least aren’t caught up in a guilt cycle over it, or second guessing the... chemistry between us, the frisson.” Elsa paused, and Anna realized that they’d been moving closer over the course of the conversation. Simultaneously, they each scooted back.

“Is that.... enough?” Anna’s voice trailed off on the question, not even sure what she was asking as she slipped back under the covers.

“For me,” Elsa said, following suit, “it’s more than enough to just know that you wouldn’t hate me for my, um, attraction to you.”

Anna grabbed her pillow, displaced in the wrestling match earlier, and put it back under her head. “Even if I didn’t have the same attraction to you,” she said, “I would never hate you for how you felt about me, Elsa.”

A long silence, but better than the ones before it. “Thank you,” Elsa said.

“Mmmnoproblem,” Anna murmured, feeling sleep pull on her suddenly, dragging her back to unconsciousness. “Yurwelcome...”

Anna was almost asleep when, a few minutes later, Elsa sat up and got out of bed. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, placing the stuffed dog in her spot. “I’m just... it’s too distracting tonight, being so close to you. After our conversation.”

“Mmmmkay. S’alright,” Anna replied, absently patting the pillow under her hand.

Despite the acknowledgement, she remembered nothing of this exchange in the morning save for the faint sensation of Elsa’s lips on her cheek, a goodnight kiss that lingered into her dreams.

Chapter Text

Anna made her excuses—riding, friends, and what homework she had—after her conversation with Elsa. She was thankful that Elsa seemed to be making similar excuses, because she conveniently didn’t seem to run into the other girl very often.

Granted, they weren’t making them to one another. After their paired confessions, the decision to take a bit of space was a similarly mutual, though unvoiced. It was actually to Adgar and Idunn that Anna kept explaining herself, skipping family dinner to meet with a friend, or letting someone else go on the walks that Elsa had been taking, prescribed by her physical therapist.

She and Elsa took special care not to touch one another, and Elsa slept in her own bed for the most consecutive days that Anna could even remember. Dark nights only seemed to keep sleep farther away as she waited, waited, waited to see if Elsa would show up. The anticipation, those first few nights, built itself up and up until Anna couldn’t stand it and started touching herself, half afraid that Elsa would show up, half wishing that she would, and half denying that she was wishing Elsa would.

Their combined efforts at avoiding one another could not, however, overcome the Mandatory Family Event which was Christmas morning in the Sommersett household. It was, as with most family events, suitably awkward and too formal for Anna’s tastes. Still, she couldn’t deny appreciating the numerous and well-intended gifts Adgar and Idunn had addressed to her under the tree.

And while it wasn’t like her mom’s, the festivities were... nice. The conversations carried on well enough, Anna and Elsa didn’t touch, but managed perfectly pleasant exchanges and exclamations over various presents. The four of them weren’t quite a well-fitting family, but the interactions, at least, were coming easily enough.

Until it was Anna’s turn.

“I think that’s been enough from Idunn and I,” Adgar said after a particularly lengthy queue of presents, which included diamond earrings for Elsa and a new saddle for Anna. He cleared his throat and smile across the room at her before saying, “Anna, where’s your present for Elsa?”

“Uh, it’s that one,” Anna said, pointing, fearing how she’d feel if her fingers brushed Elsa’s upon handing the package over.

Out of self-consciousness after their confessions, Anna had swapped out the locket (now safely hidden in her bedside table) for an extravagant selection of chocolates. It had been expensive, though not nearly as much as the locket, but Anna had gladly paid for it with her own money rather than give Elsa the locket, the barely-passable-as-a-sisterly-gift locket, in front of Adgar and Idunn.

Elsa’s eyes widened in surprise when she picked up the wrapped chocolate package. “From Anna,” she read, looking across the room (of course they were sitting across the room from one another) with a smile. “Thank you.”

Briefly, Anna considered the possibility that Elsa was a rather smart girl and was potentially aware of the fact that Anna had purchased the chocolates after their initial shopping spree. The bulky package would have stood out, even though they were making an effort not to look in one another’s bags.

“I hope you like it,” Anna said instead, smiling as she resisted the urge to itch at her dress. Growing up, her mother had always done Christmas morning in their pajamas, but Adgar and Idunn were more along the line of ‘Christmas brunch in your Sunday best’ for the occasion.

Elsa carefully opened the present and gasped with appropriate warmth as she read, “Curated collection of European chocolates.” She looked across the room and met Anna’s eyes with affection. “Oh Anna, thank you so much!”

Anna smiled. “You’re welcome,” she said.

“Oh well that’s just perfect,” Idunn said. “The chocolates were always something you loved about Europe.”

“They won’t be quite as fresh,” Anna confessed, “But I hope they’re alright.” They had, of course, been the most expensive set of chocolates she’d ever purchased in her life, but even with that, she doubted they would measure up to the extravagant chocolatiers Adgar and Idunn probably visited with Elsa in Europe.

Elsa didn’t seem the least bit concerned about diminished quality. “I can’t wait to try them,” she said, smiling. “I’d love to eat some with you, if it’s not taboo to share a gift with the giver.”

“Certainly not,” Adgar declared. “Elsa, how about you grab your gift for Anna, since you just opened hers.”

“Alright,” Elsa said, walking over to crouch by the tree (a gargantuan ten foot thing that looked professionally decorated. Anna kind of hated it, just a bit) and retrieving her present. “Here it is.” She walked over and deposited the box delicately in Anna’s hands.

Their fingers did not touch. Anna almost sighed with relief. With disappointment.

“Thank you, Elsa,” she said instead.

Elsa resumed her seat on the couch with Adgar. “I do hope you like it,” she said.

Anna started ripping off the wrapping paper. “I’m sure I wi—” She froze, then carefully undid the lid of the half-revealed box. For a moment, the overly-picturesque formal living room and all the Christmas trappings felt entirely appropriate as Anna pulled out a beautiful snowglobe.

“Oh Elsa,” she breathed, turning it over as she took in the miniature scene. Within the glass, miniature sunflowers floated around a castle that seemed to be made of glass. It was... odd, but the scene was striking, exactly Anna’s sort of off-the-wall aesthetic.

“I thought you might like a bit of springtime to hold onto during the upstate winters here,” Elsa explained with a gentle smile that seemed to shrink the room to just the two of them. “You grumble about the cold, and I saw this and thought you might like the castle, and I don’t know...” Elsa’s rambling trailed off and she blushed slightly. “Do you like it?”

“It’s perfect and, and beautiful!” Anna exclaimed. She thought, but did not add, ‘just like you, Elsa.’ She continued instead, “Thank you so much!”

“You’re welcome,” Elsa said as Adgar and Idunn added comments about how beautiful the gift was. Anna hardly heard them, so intent on Elsa’s flushed smile that she could barely recall how the rest of Christmas went.

Until Elsa slipped into her room that night. Anna’s mind seemed to shift into focus as she sat up in bed, watching Elsa’s silhouette against the dim light of the hallway.

“Hey,” she said, “May I come in?”

“Y-yeah,” Anna said. “I’m not asleep.” She had, in fact, been watching the streetlights twinkle and reflect off of Elsa’s snowglobe, propped on the windowsill. She had, in fact, been allowing herself to think about Elsa, to think about how it felt when the other girl smiled.

Anna couldn’t see well, but she suspected Elsa was smiling as she shut the door behind her and crawled onto Anna’s bed, sitting in her usual spot. “What did you think about today?” she asked.

Pausing a moment to consider her answer, to give Elsa a real answer, Anna eventually shrugged. “It was easier than before,” she said. “And while Christmas, like any holiday, tends to result in missing my mom, this year wasn’t too bad.”

“I’m glad you’re doing okay,” Elsa said, weight shifting on the bed. “I’m feeling fairly good, actually. I think I’ve smiled more in the past week than I have in the previous month.”

Anna tilted her head. “What’s got you so smiley?”

“You said it before and I didn’t quite believe you, but the gift giving really has helped,” she replied. “I loved going shopping with you, and then it’s felt lovely, actually, seeing people smile when they open their presents, getting to show how I care for them.” A pause, then, “You especially.”

A mild flush crawled up Anna’s cheeks, and she was glad it was dark and Elsa couldn’t see it. She also wished the lights were on, because it was hard to feel like they were supposed to keep things normal with Elsa sitting on her bed in a darkened room, especially given the last time she’d done so...

“Why me?” Anna heard herself ask.

Elsa shrugged. “Because you’re important to me, and there’s something special and even better about getting to see you smile, to make you smile and know I’ve done something to make you happy.” Her voice grew in intensity, then tapered off. Something in her tone told Anna that Elsa was struggling to keep things ‘normal’ as well. “And I like myself better,” Elsa added, “when I can make you happy. When you smile and I’m the one who caused it. It reminds me that I am capable of... well... stuff, of anything, of doing good and being good at something. I like the idea that I could be good at making you happy, Anna.”

Anna grappled for words, trying to find an adequate response that wasn’t just ‘Oh Elsa,’ or ‘But you don’t need to do anything to make me happy,’ when Elsa startled her by clapping, activating the lights.

“Fuck,” Anna cursed, covering her eyes and wincing.

“Sorry!” Elsa looked rather apologetic when Anna managed to open her eyes again. “I just... on the note of presents and making you happy and stuff, I... kind of got you a second present. I just felt a bit silly giving you another present, since we normally only get each other one.” She held out a small package, perfectly wrapped with a bow on top, and Anna felt her heart melt a little.

“Elsa, you... you didn’t have to,” Anna reached out and lifted the gift from Elsa’s hand.

Elsa smiled and ran a hand through her bangs, which had gotten longer. “That’s the whole point,” she said. “I grabbed them after our trip because I wanted to.”

“Well... thank you,” Anna said as she started to pull off the bow. “Please, feel free to offer me unsolicited presents at any and all random times and occasions.” She said it in a jesting tone, but, before she undid the present entirely, something drew her gaze to Elsa, who watched her intently.

“Really?” she asked. “It’s okay to just... give you presents when I feel like it?”

Anna blinked, mind racing through what Elsa had said previously, about the act making her like herself better. “Of course you can,” she said, wondering if this part counted under the umbrella of ‘normal’ they’d said they were trying to maintain.

Then Anna opened the present and fully embraced both it and the easy change of topic it presented. “Oh this is adorable, Elsa!” It took Anna only another moment to fully detach tags and packaging. “I’m gonna put them on right now!”

“I’m glad you like them.” Elsa giggled as she watched Anna extricate herself from under the covers and start pulling her socks on.

“Well of course I love them!” Anna laughed as she wiggled her toes. “They’re my favorite shade of green! And the sunflowers are lovely, you know they’re my favorite flower.”

“I know,” Elsa said, voice content.

Impulsively, Anna crawled forward and swept Elsa in a deep hug. “Thank you so much,” she murmured into her neck.

She felt Elsa’s chest press against hers as her beath caught. Elsa returned the embrace after a moment, and Anna felt as though she could have stayed there, where she belonged, in Elsa’s arms, well... forever. The moment lasted and lasted and then abruptly stopped at the sound of someone’s hand on the doorknob.

Anna flew backward as Idunn knocked-and-opened the door. “Girls? You’re being so loud. You know it’s past bedtime...” The normally put-together woman looked tired, as though she’d crawled reluctantly out of bed to address them.

She probably had. Anna winced. “I’m sorry, Idunn,” she said. “Elsa just dropped by because she forgot a small present for me and I got a little excited.” Anna wiggled her toes in the socks. “See?”

“Sorry, Mother,” Elsa mumbled, face a bit flushed. “I didn’t realize we’d gotten so loud.”

Idunn squinted at the socks and Anna realized she must have already taken her contacts out. “That’s alright,” she said, yawning. “Just.... go to sleep soon, you two. And please keep it down. You know Adgar and I have work tomorrow.” She shifted in the doorway, as though unsure whether or not the pseudo-parenting moment was over. She rarely came to Anna’s room as it was, making this an especially odd scenario in general.

“We will,” Anna answered, “and we’re sorry for waking you.”

“Alright, goodnight then,” Idunn said. “We’ll see you tomorrow at breakfast.”

“Goodnight, Idunn.”

“Goodnight, Mother.”

A tired nod, then Idunn shut the door behind her. Anna and Elsa sat in silence until they heard the master bedroom door shut down the hall. Anna didn’t even realize that Elsa’s hand had drifted to cover her own until Elsa squeezed it. “Sorry for that,” she whispered. “We’re normally much quieter. I didn’t even realize we’d gotten so excited.”

“Presents are exciting.” Anna smiled. “We’ll just be more careful in the future.”

Something in Elsa’s gaze flashed at ‘in the future’ and she smiled. “Sounds good then,” she said. Clearing her throat, she smiled. “Anyway, now that the lights are on and we’re, well... not avoiding one another, I’ve been meaning to say that your hair looked nice.”

Anna tucked a spare strand behind her ear. “Oh, thanks,” she said. “I did it while you were out on your date, but I guess you wouldn’t have seen it when you got back. The lights were off and all.”

“I noticed the next day,” Elsa said, “But we haven’t been around one another as much recently.” She scooted closer, her knees brushing against Anna’s, and reached out to run a hand through Anna’s highlighted strips of hair.”

“We have not,” Anna managed, trying to keep from overthinking the contact.

Elsa shifted on the bed. “Is that... how it’s going to be?” she asked, combing her fingers through Anna’s hair in a highly distracting manner.

“No?” Anna’s voice came out in a squeak, and Elsa withdrew her hand. “I think we just needed a little space, let us figure out how we’re gonna... be, now that we, uh know?”

“That makes sense,” Elsa conceded, settling back on her side. Anna knew her face was beet red, but Elsa had the grace not to comment on it. Elsa had touched her hair plenty of times before, but she’d never done so while Anna bore the knowledge that Elsa liked her, found her attractive. Maybe worse was that now Anna knew that she liked Elsa. The previously normal gesture seemed drastically transformed, as though the pads of Elsa’s fingers had left invisible marks on Anna’s skin that tingled and made her want to lean forward and push her head under Elsa’s hand like please-do-that-again-and-never-stop.

She resisted. “I’d like to go walking with you some more,” she said instead, smiling.

Elsa smiled back. The world seemed to stop. “I would like that,” she replied. “I’d like that a lot actually.”

Anna briefly considered the locket for Elsa, still stashed in her bedside table. But no, Anna was at least going to try and maintain the sense of normal they’d talked about before. The locket was so clearly almost-romantic that it made her wince to think about it. How had she managed to purchase it without realizing?

Elsa stood up and stretched. “I’m gonna head to bed  then,” she said. “I’m feeling pretty tired from all the festivities. Goodnight, Anna.”

Before Elsa could take a step away, Anna clambered across the bed and grabbed her hand. “Wait,” she said.

Elsa turned to look down at her, then blushed deeply. Anna realized that crawling across the bed had probably left her nightgown hanging open a bit. “Would you like to stay here tonight?” she asked, pulling her neckline up. “Get things back to, uh, normal?”

Anna sat back as Elsa drew back to the bed. “That... sounds nice,” Elsa replied.

Crawling back onto her side of the bed, Anna slipped under the covers and pulled them down for Elsa. “Then come on,” she said. “What are you waiting for?”

Elsa’s mouth opened, as though she were about to reply, but she said nothing as she clapped, turning the lights off, and slipped into the bed.

“Goodnight, Elsa,” Anna murmured, curling up on her side of the bed. She couldn’t decide if she felt more relief or frustration as Elsa settled herself in on the far side so they weren’t touching.

“Goodnight, Anna,” she said.

It took a minute to admit the frustration to herself, the frustration that stemmed from her attraction, from wanting Elsa’s body closer, pressed against her own in all the ways they’d previously allowed themselves. The feeling only grew when she imagined, when she realized that she knew, for a fact, that Elsa felt the same way about her, wanted to reach for her body in the darkness and hold them together.

After acknowledging the frustration, however, Anna settled more into relief. If they’d slept against one another, she honestly didn’t know if she’d have managed to get any sleep at all. And she was truly attempting to keep things normal, to maintain the status quo. That’s why she hadn’t given Elsa the locket.

The thought of a casual walk brought a content smile to Anna’s face as she drifted off to sleep, imagining the simple pleasures of holding Elsa’s hand, of leaning against her shoulder after a few days of abstaining from doing so. She was fifteen and the girl she liked wanted to hold her hand. What better thought to take as a gateway to a good night’s sleep.

*

They held hands and leaned against one another the next day, on a lovely walk through the slush that didn’t feel as cold as it probably was, because Anna was fairly certain she blushed the entire time. The pattern continued as winter break carried on through the walk the next day and the one after that and the one after that. In the evenings, Elsa slipped back into Anna’s bed and the mattress seemed to shrink each night, as they tried and kept failing to avoid nighttime contact with one another. After several days, Anna found she was having trouble sleeping for the first time in forever, trying so hard to lie still, to keep to the edge of the bed. In the mornings, as always, Elsa rose quickly and Anna never knew if they’d drawn closer while they slept.

She suspected though, especially with how the touches between them shifted to something as intimate as possible while remaining entirely inane. A tap on the shoulder to get Anna’s attention turned into a single finger, brushed on the inside of her wrist. Anna found herself dragging her fingernails along Elsa’s palms in the moments before they fit their hands together.

They walked in circuitous paths with electric touches, walking more and more loops until Anna suggested that, maybe, instead of walking around the local park forever, they get a change of scenery and drive to a larger park one town over.

The next day was unseasonably warm, the perfect candidate. They drove over and Anna was glad that Elsa had become less anxious about driving because, as they held hands over the center console, she could hardly focus on the road at all. Their low-pressure conversation about mutual acquaintances at school seemed to pale in significance compared to how Elsa’s thumb brushed back and forth across the back of her hand.

Once they arrived, Anna regretfully let go of Elsa’s hand to, you know, get out of the car.

“How’d you find out about this place?” Elsa asked, looking around as she locked the car behind them. “I don’t think I’ve ever been here before.”

“Internet,” Anna said, walking around the front of the car toward the walking trail. “It was on a list of good parks in the area.”

Elsa cast her a curious glance as they started down the trail. “How’d you stumble onto that?”

Anna debated between the truth and something less damning. After a beat, she sighed and relented. “After we started walking again, I wanted a way for us to spend time more together, well, alone.” A glance around the park revealed a few people, but at least nobody they knew, and there was more room so they could walk without wondering if anyone could hear them.

Because at this point, Anna thought they kind of needed another talk, one in the light, one in daylight where they could honestly confront the fact that maintaining normalcy in the face of their last conversation was proving difficult.

No reply came for a minute as they walked down the path together. Even in her coat, Anna felt warm and flushed with her hand in Elsa’s. Eventually, Elsa asked, “You want to spend more time alone with me?” Her fingers brushed the backs of Anna’s knuckles, like she already knew the answer and just wanted to hear it spoken aloud.

Anna struggled with embarrassment—along with wow Elsa liked her and that meant questions like that were, well, flirting?—but they’d already been so honest with one another before. It seemed silly to stop. And honesty would lead to the conversation they needed to have. “Yeah,” she confessed. “But is that so strange? You’re a person I like, you’re beautiful, and you’re already going on walks. Where else could I want to be but out and about and alone with you?”

“But you pull away when we’re in the same bed?” Here, Elsa’s voice shifted away from that... not-quite-smug-but-almost-teasing voice. This, Anna thought, was a true question.

She shrugged. “We agreed to keep things normal. You said that was enough.” She brushed her fingers along the back of Elsa’s hand and allowed herself some satisfaction at the blush that bloomed across Elsa’s cheeks because of it. Teasing went both ways.

Elsa sputtered over her answer, licking her lips, then biting them and glancing around. Anna would have been lying if she said she didn’t watch Elsa’s teeth tug at her lips and let her mind wander just a bit.

“It’s hard to want things normal when I think that you’re thinking what I think?” By the end of it, Elsa’s voice had trailed off from statement to uncertainty.

Anna pondered a moment, trying to fight her own insecurity, then shrugged. “Well... what are you thinking of? You don’t seem to know if I’m thinking the same so what if I confirmed it for you?”

Elsa huffed. “You could just tell me what you’re thinking.”

“But I asked you first.”

“Fine.” Elsa glanced away. “I think about you, about... about the fact that you find me attractive, that you keep doing small things that drive me crazy, like the—the nail thing!” Elsa sounded almost indignant at that. “The way you drag your nails along the inside of my palm. That’s not fair!”

“You started it!” Anna stuck her tongue out. “You and your fingertips, lightly drawing along the insides of my wrist and elbow?”

“You did something first.”

“Debateable.”

Elsa rolled her eyes. “Whoever started it, we’ve clearly ended up in some sort of mild-form war of escalation in teasing one another during the day.” Elsa paused, her stride hitching as she looked away again. “At least,” she qualified, “that’s what I feel is happening.” She glanced sidelog at Anna. “So, how are you feeling about all this?”

Anna shrugged, but squeezed Elsa’s hand. “Just about the same as you. There’s the same tension as before, but now that I’ve acknowledged it to myself, to you.... it’s hard to try and pretend it’s not there.” Anna cast her eyes around for some inspiration. “Before, I didn’t sense it because I was kind of in denial about it?” She glanced at Elsa, who nodded in agreement. “But now we know and it’s like things that used to be normal are standing out in relief in how they’re not? Or at least with their... vast potential to be not.” Anna blushed. She couldn’t quite decide if it was better or worse, having Elsa in her bed but not against her. It made things simultaneously easier and harder.

Elsa took a deep breath. “Well then,” she said, “It’s... a relief, and, er, not, to know that we’re on the same page.”

“That now you know that I’m thinking what you’re thinking I’m thinking?” Anna smirked when Elsa gave her a dry look at the phrasing.

“Yes,” Elsa replied cooly. “That is, I suppose, a good thing.”

“Keeping things normal is hard when I can basically safely assume you’re as equally terrible as I am,” Anna said.

“Indeed, but we’re managing okay.”

Anna bit her lip and noticed Elsa’s eyes shift downward. She cocked an eyebrow. “Do you ever want to forget normal?” she asked, letting Elsa’s hand in hers lend courage to the question. “Just... break our boundaries and go for it?”

Elsa stopped walking and fixed her with a half-pleading look. “You already know my answer, Anna,” she said. “Please? Let’s just... hold onto this. It’s nice, in its own way, liking you and purposefully not worrying about the how or the why or the implementation.”

“Status quo?”

“Status quo.”

Anna tilted her head. “Even though it’s hard.”

“We’ve done it so far.”

Frankly, the situation didn’t seem indefinitely sustainable, but they did manage to continue their walk in a state of semi-normalcy regardless. Anna certainly didn’t tackle Elsa into a pile of snow and kiss her senseless like she wanted to. This was a difficult temptation, since she could reasonably assume that Elsa had thought of the possibility. The lure was worse with the knowledge that Elsa would kiss her back, that part of Elsa wanted to break their rules and tumble into the snow with her and kiss until their cheeks flushed crimson.

Anna redoubled her efforts at keeping herself in check, refraining from comments that might be taken as innuendo or abnormal or anything along those lines.

So perhaps it wasn’t such a surprise when it was Elsa who cleared her throat after a time, changing the topic and asking, “So Anna, what’s the happiest you’ve ever been with a significant other?”

And if Elsa seemed inordinately focused on Anna’s answer, as though she were mentally taking notes, Anna didn’t call her out on it.

That night, lying apart in the same bed, Elsa provided nothing but a breathtakingly honest answer when Anna asked her to describe her ideal first date.

Doing homework together before break ended, Elsa casually asked Anna ‘what she looked for in a woman,’ and didn’t comment when Anna basically listed traits that applied to Elsa.

It got bad enough that it started turning into half jokes, taking refuge behind the thin shield of being theoretical questions.

“Could you ever be attracted to a terrible bowler?”

“Would you ever kiss someone who likes anchovies on pizza?”

“Do you think you could ever date an Aries?”

“Are names that start with vowels attractive?”

And then, just like that, break was almost over and Anna found herself with a real question to ask. On the last day of winter break, Anna squirmed in the passenger seat as they drove back home from a walk. When she finally gathered the courage, she took a breath and asked, “So, could you ever forgive someone who intentionally hid your report card from you because she was concerned that you’d be too hard on yourself?”

It had taken so long to say it that she only managed it as Elsa pulled into the garage at home. For a moment, Elsa didn’t look at her, and then it was worse when she did, with her eyes like a confirmed suspicion. But then she nodded. “I could understand that,” Elsa said, “because... sometimes people keep secrets to try and protect others. It’s not always the best solution, but I could, and have, forgiven people for that sort of offense.” She turned to Anna and put her hand out. “I would, of course, need to know the truth eventually.”

It took a moment to dig through her coat pockets, but Anna felt an immense sense of relief as she handed over the report card, watching Elsa’s eyes widen, but only slightly, before her expression settled into one of resignation.

“I do forgive you, Anna,” she said. “And, before you ask, I could and still do like the girl who might have done just such a thing.”

Anna blushed, then reached out a hand and rested it on Elsa’s shoulders. “But are you okay?” She glanced down at the report card. “I... I just didn’t want you beating yourself up over the whole of winter break.”

Elsa nodded. “I’m... more alright than I would have been three weeks ago,” she said. “I’m not thrilled, but I’m kind of glad you did it. I think I’m happier than I would have been otherwise.” She looked over and smiled. “Good judgement call on your part.”

Anna practically glowed as she took Elsa’s hand in her own, a brief hold before slipping out of the car and into the house to nail down their mutual-support system for the new semester. The schedule they’d followed for the first half of the fall semester had kind of fallen apart after Elsa’s injury, and while Anna had never thought scheduling would be especially fun, she couldn’t help but enjoy herself in Elsa’s company.

Of course, it was due to that discussion that Anna found herself doing a midday check in with Elsa at the tail end of their lunch period, just a five minute moment to touch base and remind one another about goals and share how the first half of the day had gone.

And once they’d communicated the essentials, once Anna had assured herself that Elsa wasn’t spiraling into a deeper bout of depression due to the stress of schoolwork, Anna had grinned and tilted her head, asking, “So do you think you could ever date a ginger?”

Elsa’s eyes went wide, and she glanced around furtively, as though afraid of eavesdroppers. Although Anna had glanced around first, to make sure nobody was nearby, she cleared her throat and added, “Because there’s this girl in my shop class and I was gonna set you up on a date. Do you think you’d like that?”

And suddenly it wasn’t just a cover statement, it was a real question, because Anna did know some gingers, even one in her shop class. By now, she knew exactly what kind of ideal first date Elsa wanted. She could be the perfect coach in finding Elsa someone... reasonable, someone okay to date and like and kiss and make happy.

Taking a deep breath, Anna saw Elsa reach down and thumb her worry stone for a moment before the older girl grabbed her arm and towed her down the hall a bit. They ducked into an alcove for the auditorium side doors and Elsa shook her head. “Sorry for flipping out, I... I just wasn’t expecting that joke during school hours.” She sighed and rubbed her temples. “But... were you serious about that date? You would really set me up on another one?”

Anna debated, then found herself nodding. “I could,” she said. To her own surprise, she meant it. Someone to make Elsa happy—Elsa being happy—would make Anna happy. That was enough. “I really could, Elsa.”

She expected another sign of anxiety from Elsa: tugging her clothes, or tucking her hair back, maybe a sigh.

Instead: Elsa started hitching her shoulders in a fit of laughter that had her covering her mouth to muffle the noise.

Anna crossed her arms. “What’s so funny? I’m making a real offer here.”

“I know, I know,” Elsa managed. “It’s just...” She took a deep breath, then shot Anna a smile. “I know you’d be okay with me dating someone, you’d be so happy for me that I wouldn’t know what to do about it. But...” Elsa’s smile shifted, and Anna got the sense that she was more smiling at herself. “But I’m not interested in seeing anyone new. I’m not interested in dating someone else to prove to myself something that I know isn’t true. That we both know isn’t true.”

Anna’s entire body tingled, as though her foot had fallen asleep and the sparks spread all over. She felt herself smile hesitantly. “What about that status quo?”

Elsa blushed and glanced around, checking for eavesdroppers before shrugging. “Class discussion today included the idea that ‘normal’ is a mutable societal norm. Everything is relative and subject to alternate perceptions.”

“In that case, are you available this Saturday?”

“For you? Absolutely.”

Chapter Text

Even though it was Anna who had asked Elsa on the date, the two of them fell into generally egalitarian roles when it came to the actual implementation of the whole event. Anna did the planning, but Elsa invented and delivered their cover stories to Adgar and Idunn (missing a Saturday family dinner wasn’t quite the norm). Elsa wrote out a plan for how they would redistribute their homework schedule around the date, but Anna was the one who came over and wrapped her arms around Elsa when the anxiety from breaking the habit started to encroach on her efforts to get ahead on Saturday morning. Anna wrote down the directions and played navigator as Elsa drove them to an early dinner almost an hour away.

The whole trip, however, they kept their hands clasped over the center console.

Anna’s gaze fixed itself to Elsa as they pulled into the restaurant’s parking lot. “Wait a minute,” Elsa said, brow furrowing. “Is this a Norwegian place?”

“It most certainly is,” Anna said, giving Elsa’s hand a squeeze. “Is that alright?”

Elsa practically bounced in her seat. “Oh, it’s wonderful, Anna! But how, how did you know?”

Anna shrugged casually as she got out of the car, then went around and opened Elsa’s door for her. “Because,” she said. “I heard you mention it to Tiana once, I believe, how you missed the food you’d tried in Norway during some trip or another to Europe.”

“But that...” Elsa squinted as she took Anna’s hand, stepping out of the car. “But I must have said that nearly a year ago, at least,” she said. “How did you remember?”

Giving her hand a squeeze, Anna walked through as Elsa held open the restaurant door. “What you say, things you like or want, they’ve always been important to me. They stand out and I hope they’ll stick with me until I can, maybe, give you something you’ve forgotten you wanted.”

Elsa smiled at Anna so warmly that she could have melted into the floor and, before dinner even started, have declared herself satisfied with this first date. However, then the hostess went to lead them to their table and Anna decided that sitting in the booth across from Elsa was much preferable to the floor. It gave her the perfect vantage point to watch Elsa pore over the menu, alternating between intense study and quiet exclamations whenever she came across something the remembered. As Anna read over the menu, Elsa seemed highly amused by her attempts at pronunciation, but had the grace not to laugh as she repeated names (which she seemed far more adept than Anna at deciphering) until Anna could say them with reasonable competence.

The waitress, however, did laugh a bit when Anna ordered.

Elsa’s foot brushed against Anna’s under the table, a small gesture of comfort, and that felt like more than enough to sooth Anna’s mildly-bruised feelings on the matter.

After dinner, as they walked over to a nearby park, Anna resisted the urge to second-guess her choices, to doubt how she’d interpreted Elsa’s ideal first date. More specifically, the point where Elsa said she’d ‘like to try something new, make a lasting memory linked to something unique, but also nonthreatening.’ Because it was one thing to pick a restaurant that Elsa would like.

It was entirely another to take a chance on lasting memories, on an experience that would make an impression, but wouldn’t scare Elsa.

As they turned a corner on the walking path and came into view of the public skating rink, Anna turned to gauge Elsa’s reaction and see whether or not her gamble had been a correct one.

Elsa’s previously open expression had stiffened, and she looked as though dinner had suddenly and intensely disagreed with her stomach.

“I was thinking we might walk over and watch for a bit,” Anna said. She pointed up at the projected screen at the end of the rink. “They have a movie playing, and I thought it might be nice to see it.” She smiled lopsidedly, encouraged by the fact that the tension around Elsa’s eyes lessened as their gazes met. “Sort of like dinner and a movie,” she explained.

They’d stopped walking, and Elsa bit her lip in an anxious fashion. “That... I could do that,” she said.

Anna squeezed her hand. “I’ll be right beside you,” she said. “And I know you never really went to public rinks like this so... it’ll be kind of a new experience.” Her voice softened. “And I also know that you have friends you’ll want to see perform, that you won’t be able to escape the olympics entirely, that you’re gonna war back and forth and probably want to see some of it anyway.”

Elsa slowly nodded as they made their way over. “Admittedly,” she said, “I’m not really familiar with how the public rinks operate. When I was younger, fa—Adgar and Idunn didn’t take me to the open hours, just the closed ones for practice.” She tilted her head. “It’ll be... different, seeing how it is like this. And you’re probably right about the, the olympics. I don’t want to think about it, because it just makes me anxious, but I will want to see some of the performances.”

“Did you look up the tryout lineup?”

“Yeah...”

“Yeah, I thought you would.”

“It’s... difficult to abstain,” Elsa admitted. “Even when I can no longer take part in the world, it’s been so much of my life for so long... I can’t imagine skipping the olympics. I just can’t. Not watching them would be like a frat boy skipping the superbowl.”

“I bet you loved them as a kid.” Anna smiled at the thought.

“It was better than Christmas,” Elsa said, wistful. “I would stay up and they’d let me watch the figure skating events live, even if the timezones didn’t work out well. They only came once every four years, and... and they always had this aura of destiny about them...”

At that point, they’d drawn close enough to watch the skaters well enough. The crowded rink swarmed with skaters of all ages (and all abilities) moving around in a haphazard cycle that moved quickest in the center and slowest at the edges. Every few seconds, someone would fall on their bum and the people nearby would scramble to skate around them. Instead of the crisp white skates at Elsa’s rink, almost everyone seemed to be wearing bulky plastic rentals. Anna slipped her arm through Elsa’s as they moved forward to lean against the wall. “It’s very different from watching your practices,” Anna commented, eyes intent on Elsa’s.

Elsa’s gaze darted around the ice, noticing a dozen miniscule details that Anna couldn’t have defined if she tried. “This is so...” Elsa wrinkled her nose. “This is so uncouth, like a corruption of the very art of figure skating.” She looked away and Anna almost panicked at the sneer that threatened to appear, the slight lift of Elsa’s upper lip in a not-especially-flattering expression.

“Okay,” Anna said, doubting herself even more, “so it’s not super fancy, and I’m sure to you the rental skates are like, like dull pencil lead versus a mechanical one or something, but... but surely you see something kinda cute about it. Like the little kids bumbling on the ice.” Anna nodded her head in the direction of a line of children with their arms all looped through one another’s. Whenever one of them started to fall down, the line would tremble, but they’d all lean to try and pull their friend up. Sometimes it worked; sometimes they’d all fall down in a heap. Regardless, the kids seemed to be having fun.

“I’ve seen kids their age speed skating backward around a rink,” Elsa mumbled, leaning down. She propped her chin on her arms and sighed. “This is just so... so different. It’s almost worse than watching hockey.”

Something about the dull pencil imagery she’d used earlier seemed to call to Anna in the moment, and she found herself gesturing vaguely, trying to give voice to the thought in her head. Elsa turned to look at her humorously. “What is it?” she asked.

A smile twitched at the corner of Elsa’s mouth and she seemed, at least in that second, to be almost having fun. At the least, she didn’t seem to hate being out with Anna at the public rink.

The encouragement was just enough for Anna to connect her thoughts into a semi-coherent mess. “Okay so the reason you’re grumpy is because ice skating is like walking in cursive.”

Elsa blinked at her once, then twice. “What?”

“Let me explain,” Anna said. “So you... you did figure skating at the friggin olympic level. At that point, it’s basically magic. It’s beyond a mere art form, but if ice skating is walking in cursive, then olympic-level figure skating is like the highest form of calligraphy you could ever imagine, the kind of writing it takes years to get right, with a class and quality to it that’s completely undeniable, immediately recognizable.” Anna shot Elsa a smile. “Are you with me so far?”

Elsa nodded, slowly. “Yes....?”

“Okay, so you’ve sustained an injury and it’s really tragic, but you can no longer do that kind of calligraphy or you’ll hurt yourself.” Anna’s voice sped up, as though speaking faster through the hard part would make the words sting less. “And you’re used to doing, seeing the kind of walking in cursive that’s magical and practically flying, because figure skating is calligraphy. In contrast,” here, Anna gestured out to the people skating out on the ice, “this kind of skating here is still walking in cursive, but without the fancy stuff. It’s casual and entirely mundane, like using cursive to write out a grocery list.

“It will never compare, artistically, to the calligraphy you used to do. Even the rented skates, which you kind of turned your nose up at, are a direct analogy to lower-quality tools. A ballpoint pen instead of a dip pen, er, or whatever the appropriate comparison would be.” Anna adjusted her hat and tried to remember what her ultimate point was. It took a moment before she continued, “So yeah. I wanted to bring you out here because I wanted to show you something old, but also new. I know I can’t bring you back your calligraphy, your figure skating, but...” She shrugged and smiled encouragingly. “Perhaps this could be a taste of it.”

Anna thought she might die as Elsa just looked at her, the silence lengthening, with her head tilted slightly to one side. She’d turned away from the rink at some point and clasped her hands in front of her, but her expression lacked the bordering disdain from before.

“I... have most certainly never thought of it that way before,” Elsa said, slowly.

Anna cringed. “Was the metaphor too strange?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

Elsa’s expression softened and she took a step forward. “I’m still processing it,” she said. “The handwriting comparison actually reminds me of how, no matter the routine, even if it’s just skating in a circle around the rink, every skater has a style, a handwriting of their own, I suppose.” She quieted again and slipped an arm around Anna’s side as she turned back to the ice.

It took all of Anna’s willpower not to start babbling, not to try and fix things or backtrack away from her assertions. Instead, she focused on the moment, on the feeling of Elsa’s arm around her waist (which felt lovely even through her coat) and the fact that it just felt right, fitting, to lean her head over onto Elsa’s shoulder. She fell so into the moment that she startled when Elsa started talking, missing the first few words.

“I’m sorry!” Anna interjected. “Could you say that again?”

Elsa gave her a little squeeze and a kiss on the forehead. “Sure,” she said. “I was just saying that... I think it’s growing on me a little, watching this... fiasco.” Elsa giggled and Anna couldn’t help but smile at the shift in the other girl’s perspective. Instead of disdain, ‘fiasco’ had a humorous lilt to it, the kind of joking tone you employ in fondness. “It’s graceless, but kind of cute, like watching penguins trying to ice skate or something.”

Anna tilted her head up and grinned. “Grocery list skating?”

Another giggle. “Sure,” Elsa said. “Plebian cursive. It’s... growing on me, actually.”

“You know...” Anna began, unsure if she was pushing too fast. “It’s not art, but... you could walk in cursive again, if you wanted to.” She slipped her arm around Elsa’s waist and felt her stiffen, but only somewhat.

“You mean... go out there?” Elsa’s eyebrows furrowed together. “I don’t think I’m supposed to. My physical therapist said no skating, Anna.”

Anna would have let the subject drop if not for the slight note of wistfulness that tinged Elsa’s voice. “Yeeees,” she said, “But your physical therapist meant no figure skating, no calligraphy. Specifically, no jumps.” A gesture to the skating rink. “Clearly, this isn’t jumping. Honestly, we’re only going to be able to go so fast with so many people out there.”

Elsa didn’t answer for a long moment, and Anna refused to fall back into the cycle of self doubt while she waited for a reply. Right or wrong in her decisions, they were the decisions she’d made. She’d done her best, and Elsa hadn’t reacted badly, er, well, too badly, thus far.

Anna allowed herself to just enjoy the snowy, saccharine movie projected at the end of the rink. Despite her worry over Elsa, she couldn’t help but feel elated, and why not? She was on a date with Elsa, who liked her, who had her arm around Anna’s waist and was letting Anna lean her head on her shoulders and it was chill but not too cold and—

“Let’s do it,” Elsa said.

“Really?!” Anna bounced away to face Elsa fully. The other girl looked a bit fearful, but determined. “Really really?”

“Yes,” Elsa said, stepping away from the railing to sweep Anna up in a hug. “I will try not to be snobby about the rental skates and the cheap ice and everything else. I want to have fun with you.”

“Let’s go then!” Anna felt as though she could have floated as they made their way over to the skate rental and gave their shoe sizes.

“I just want to have a little bit of fun with you,” Elsa repeated, sounding as though she were talking more to herself than to Anna as they carried their skates over to a nearby bench.

“And we’re going to,” Anna reassured her. “We’re on a date and we look adorable and I don’t know about you, but everything feels pretty fucking magical to me.”

Elsa covered a laugh with her hand as they sat down. “I can agree with that sentiment,” she said.

Anna pulled off her shoes and started pulling on her skates. Before she’d finished, Elsa had already finished pulling hers on, muttering, “Buckles?” under her breath as she did so. After fastening them, however, Anna glanced over to see Elsa’s eyebrows raised as she half whispered to herself, “Only had to lace it once.”

Then Elsa’s attention returned to Anna and she blushed. “Sorry,” Anna said, “I’m just having a bit of trouble getting the skates seated right.” She tugged her hat down. “Just give me a second.”

“Let me help you,” Elsa offered, already reaching down and over to help adjust Anna’s feet in the skates, fiddling with the plastic buckles for a few seconds until she snapped them shut around Anna’s calves. “There you go. Does that feel right?”

Anna resisted the urge to say that everything with Elsa felt right and nodded instead. “Yeah, it feels like a good fit, I think.” She stood up shakily. “I’ve only ever ice skated a few times in my life,” she explained. “I prefer horses to ice. Horses respond more readily to treats and bribes.”

“You just need to know how to talk with the ice,” Elsa said, standing gracefully. “She’s a temperamental friend.” Here Elsa’s smile twitched. “But we’re just gonna be skating around in a slow circle. No pressure.”

Without needing to talk about it, they slipped their gloved hands together and held on tight as Elsa led them onto the rink.

Anna wasn’t quite sure when they’d swapped roles for this date, with Anna now following Elsa instead of the other way around, but as the skates slipped under her, she found she didn’t mind.

Her hand tightened around Elsa’s and she blanched. Elsa just glanced over at her with an absent expression on her face as she calmly tugged Anna’s static form along with her, locked knees and all. “Just relax,” Elsa said, “And remember that the worst that can happen is that you’ll fall on your butt. Your coat is plenty enough cushion and I promise not to laugh too much.

“Just lift one leg, and take a step forward, pushing when your skate connects.” She seemed to be speaking out of habit and Anna wondered if Elsa were talking to herself as much as she was to Anna. The older girl hadn’t been on the ice in months, not since her accident.

They took the first step together, a simple lift, then push.

Anna squeaked as they started moving forward, instantly doubting that this had been a good idea. How was she supposed to emotionally support Elsa, let alone be cute and have fun, if she could barely stand?

“And the other step, before we come to another stop. Lift your other foot, move forward, and push. Let your weight glide.” Elsa shifted so her arm was looped through Anna’s, like the kids they’d seen earlier. “We’re not going to fall. You are moving and we’re going to hit a rhythm in another couple strides. Next step.”

Shamelessly clinging to Elsa’s arm and hanging on to her every word, Anna didn’t notice they’d reached the opposite side of the rink, single step by step, until Elsa murmured, “Don’t look down. See where we are now?”

And, sure enough, they’d gone around to the opposite side of the rink. Anna’s jaw dropped. “H-how did you do that?”

“Step,” Elsa cued her. “And I didn’t do anything.” She winked. “We made it here together.”

As they started making their way, a little faster, a little smoother, back around to where they’d started, Anna started feeling the rhythm that Elsa had been talking about. “Yeah,” she said a few strides later. Talking and skating were hard. “But I couldn’t have made it over here without you, not without clinging to the wall and sidestepping the whole way.”

Elsa shook her head, squeezing Anna’s arm a bit. “No, but you still would have made it.” She turned and looked at Anna and, for the first time since they’d started skating, Anna felt comfortable enough to be able to look back at her. “I would still be standing on the other side of the wall, not on the ice at all, if it wasn’t for you. We made it here. Us.”

Blue eyes the color of ice gazed out at Anna with such love that the whole rink could have turned into a pool and she wouldn’t have looked away. “Together,” Anna murmured, instinctively leaning closer.

Elsa leaned over too, and half a second later, an inch from a kiss, they lost their balance and fell right back on the ice.

A thick winter coat cushioned Anna’s bum from hitting the ice too hard, but her immediate concern was Elsa. However, instead of hollow eyes and flashbacks to the last time she’d fallen on the ice, Elsa was laughing as she got to her feet.

“Oh man, that hasn’t happened in forever,” Elsa said, rising with much more grace than Anna, who could only look up at her with relief as she attempted to clamber back upright.

With Elsa extending a helping hand, Anna managed to get up eventually. “Are you alright?” she asked.

“Just fine, Anna. Let’s get moving again.” Elsa looped their arms together again and, before Anna could reply, they were skating back into the rhythm they’d previously managed.

Even as Anna grew more comfortable on the ice and her deathgrip on Elsa’s arm loosened, they never let go of one another. Anna managed to glance at Elsa from time to time and noticed how she would watch the center of the rink where a few faster skaters made quick laps, sometimes going backward, to the general admiration of the rest of the crowd. Elsa could have lapped them without even trying, but she never let go of Anna’s arm, never asked if she could skate over there. Whether it was from a fear for her ankle’s well being or a desire to keep together on their date, Anna wasn’t sure. Instead of overthinking it, she let herself sink into the moment, enjoying the skating and Elsa beside her, the chill of the air and the laughter and smiles all around them.

After a while, however, Anna tugged a bit on Elsa’s arm. “My feet are getting a bit sore,” she confessed as they rounded the turn back to the exit.

“Let’s head out then,” Elsa said. “To be honest, I think my ankle needs a rest as well.”

They exited the rink (Elsa with more coordination than Anna) and talked about the common tropes of Christmas movies as they removed their skates and put their (now rather cold) shoes back on.

Elsa’s arm looped back around Anna’s waist as they started slowly making their way back to the car after dropping off their skates. About halfway there, Anna noticed that Elsa’s pace had dropped off a bit. She bit her lip; even though it had been fun, they’d maybe skated a bit too long on Elsa’s weak ankle.

“Let’s grab a seat on the bench,” she suggested, steering them over to a bench several paces back from the path.

“I’m fine, Anna,” Elsa said, rolling her eyes.

Anna raised an eyebrow and squinted at Elsa until the other girl shrugged and mumbled something about maybe needing a bit of a break. Elsa’s arm slid up to Anna’s shoulders as they sat down and it felt entirely natural for Anna to just tilt her head over and lean against Elsa.

“I can’t even remember the last time I had so much fun skating,” Elsa said. Her soft voice carried clearly in the crisp air. “It was something old and new at once, this evening. Old like the kind of skating I used to do as a kid, the thing that got me to love it. It was old like the simple warm-up and cool-down laps I’d do before and after practice, and yet... not. I never skated on a rink that crowded before.” Elsa drummed her fingers on Anna’s shoulder. “And I’m not sure if I liked that, all the people, but the atmosphere was so different, so nice, with them there...” She trailed off, but Anna got the sense that she hadn’t finished yet and waited. Snow dusted the evergreen trees around them, as picturesque as the movie playing at the rink. A few moments later, Elsa continued, “But I think the newest part about it was getting to be with you, skating next to you,” Elsa giggled. “Falling down with you. It was so new, without all the connotations from before, and... I liked that, loved it.” A soft hum, then Elsa leaned her head against Anna’s, planting a muffled kiss against her hat that Anna wished she could feel against her skin. “Being with you today was... everything I’ve been daydreaming of. This was a wonderful date, Anna.”

Anna’s scarf felt warm as she flushed with pleasure at Elsa’s sweet response. “I’m so, so happy you enjoyed yourself, Elsa. I was worried that I’d be pushing you too fast with the skating, but I’m glad that we went.” She smiled self-consciously. “When I looked up the restaurant and saw the skating rink nearby, I must have warred with myself, back and forth, for days about it.”

“You made a good choice.” Elsa’s arm tightened around her shoulders for a moment.

“Thank you,” Anna said. “I... I can’t bring your skating back to you. You couldn’t bring my mother back to me.” Anna’s throat tightened a moment at the mention, it always did. “But aside from your initial misguided attempt, you’re not trying to be my mother.” Anna snorted. “We just went on a date, so, well, clearly not.”

“Clearly...”

“Anyway,” Anna continued, trying to get back on-track from her rambling. “Anyway, um, it’s like I said the other day, that I can’t be your figure skating the same way you couldn’t be my mother, taking the place of what I lost. But... even though it still hurts and I miss her like crazy, I’m glad you’re not taking that spot, Elsa.” Anna took a moment to pause and try to slow her voice down. “You’ve given me something entirely different and completely wonderful, Elsa. We have a relationship that’s not imitating anything else in my life and I love what we have so much because it’s different.

“So what I guess I’m trying to say is that I cannot replace skating for you, I can’t fill that same spot, but, well.” Anna leaned closer against Elsa. “I’ll be damned if I don’t try and hold your hand into new experiences, to be with you as you find something else, something different to hold close to yourself. I want to be part of that so that there’s room for me to stand beside you when you find yourself again.”

Elsa turned and nuzzled against Anna’s head until she lifted it a bit, then snuck a kiss against her cheek. “There’s nobody else I’d rather have with me,” she said, "though you’re gonna be hard pressed to top this wonderful first date.”

Anna laughed, pleased with how easy it was to shift from intense to casual when she was with Elsa. “Oh no,” she said, “not my job. Next one’s on you to plan.”

“So we’re taking turns?”

“It seems like the most fair thing.”

“I like it,” Elsa murmured.

Anna felt no need to reply as they fell into a companionable silence for several minutes. There was nothing else that needed to be said on the topic; Anna had never felt so sure, so assured, that she and Elsa were completely on the same page in their relationship. Gazing out at the picturesque park, Anna couldn’t even summon nostalgia for warmer Tennessee. The snow in the park, though well-cleared from the sidewalk, shone beautifully under the lights. Anna sighed happily. “What’s your favorite part of winter?”

“I’m not sure.” Elsa hummed a moment, considering her answer. “I would say skating, but... I think I let ‘the olympic dream’ get in the way of what I liked best about it. After today, I’m no longer feeling quite so melodramatic and thinking that I’ll never skate again ever at all period, but... it will probably take some time for me to be able to start skating and maybe rediscover my favorite parts all over again.”

Anna squinted. “As long as your favorite parts aren’t jumping, right?”

Elsa huffed. “You have zero confidence in me.”

“No, I’m just concerned for your ankle. Also, you mostly skated at a climate-controlled rink. I’m not even sure that counts as a winter thing.”

“You want me to pick another one?” Anna nodded and Elsa continued, “Fine. I think my favorite winter thing is probably the cold. The ice and snow and—”

“That’s like three things,” Anna objected.

“Fine, I’ll pick cold.” Elsa pulled back so she could glare at Anna and crossed her arms. “I love how it’s cold because heat tends to bother me more than cold does. In the heat I just sweat and feel gross no matter how lightly I’m dressed. For winter, I can always put on more layers and still look fashionable, but the cold tends not to bother me much anyway.”

Anna turned so she could look at Elsa more directly. “You’ve spent a lot of time in climate-controlled skating rinks,” she observed. “So that kind of makes sense.”

“Maybe,” Elsa said, seeming to want to move away from the topic of figure skating. “What’s your favorite thing about winter?”

Resisting the snarky reply of ‘when it’s over,’ Anna considered a moment, then felt a warm blush cross her cheeks. “I think my favorite winter thing is that it gives me an excuse to be close to people. You know, snuggling and leaning against them and just being nice and warm and close.”

“As if you needed more excuses,” Elsa teased.

“Oh hush.”

Then they sat and looked into one another’s eyes like something out of a movie and Anna couldn’t tear her gaze away. Something squirmed in the back of her mind and she knew they had to deal with the hard things soon, the topic they’d avoided so far. Part of Anna wanted to keep from discussing it forever, the, um, half-sisters thing, but, at the same time... it would just eat her up inside if she ignored it.

Her eyes slid away from Elsa, who had the same round cheeks and nose as she did.

“Hey, Anna?” Elsa seemed to be looking at a spot a bit above Anna’s shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“We... have some difficult talks ahead,” Elsa continued, fiddling with her glove, “and it’s gonna be weird but I just want you to know that, um, I have confidence in us. In you and in me.” She shifted her gaze so they were looking at one another again and, despite the awkwardness, Anna felt her worries still. “I think we have something pretty cool, amazing really, and I think we’re gonna figure it out.”

Even though there was literally nothing else that Elsa could have been talking about, Anna had to confirm. “Half-sisters?” she asked.

“Half-sisters.”

“We can talk tomorrow?” Anna asked. “Over homework?”

Elsa nodded emphatically. “Tomorrow sounds good. Not... not tonight?”

Anna shook her head. “No, I....” She looked away. “Maybe it’s bad, but... I just want to keep tonight as-is. Reality can intrude tomorrow. Tonight I just want to be with you.”

“Me too.” Elsa’s shoulders dropped the tension they’d been holding. Stress gone from her expression, she looked so absorbed, so in-love that Anna could hardly grasp that Elsa was looking that way at her.

With Elsa looking at her like that, she didn’t feel like the (literal) redheaded bastard child; she felt beautiful and warm with anticipation from head to toe.

“We should p-probably head back to the car,” Anna said, unfolding her legs and moving them off the bench.

“Probably,” Elsa said, moving forward. “We need to get home soon.”

Anna glanced up from Elsa’s lips in time to see Elsa glance down at hers. “Yeah...”

Elsa slipped her glove off without looking away from Anna. “Don’t have much time.”

“We have enough,” Anna murmured, leaning closer.

The dim park lights sparkled on Elsa’s eyes as she slipped her ungloved hand forward to cup Anna’s cheek. “Enough for one?” she asked, breath warm on Anna’s lips.

Anna nodded minutely and closed the distance between them in a soft kiss. Her hand alighted to Elsa’s shoulder as the simple, chaste kiss lingered a moment. They pulled back, though only just, and Anna took a wavering breath.

“Maybe two,” she whispered. Elsa smiled as they leaned in again, hand shaking against Anna’s cheek as the distance between them vacillated in a tentative series of kisses that turned two into three, then four as they explored the simple pleasure of knowing one another’s lips for the first time outside of Anna’s daydreams.

Chapter Text

Sitting down to do homework in her room with Elsa felt surreal.

Sure, they’d been doing their homework together since Anna arrived to New York, basically. Hell, they’d even sat together and done homework just yesterday morning. But all of that seemed to belong to some other, pre-first-date world.

Anna could not focus at all with Elsa sitting at the spare desk. Hardly a ‘spare’ desk. It wasn’t messy, certainly, but it had Elsa’s pencils and Elsa’s paper and Elsa’s stuff all over it.  Very neatly all over it, but still. Elsa’s stash of office supplies did not travel back and forth between their rooms, but had become a comfortable nest of Elsa-possessions that lived on the desk in the corner of Anna’s room. Did Elsa even use the desk in her room at all?

Looking at Elsa instead of her homework, Anna wondered how Elsa managed to push forward, working on her math homework without any apparent struggle. Anna turned so she was facing her own desk again and winced. Her essay outline had only three bulletpoints so far. One of them was “Can we kiss some more?”

Blushing, Anna buried her face in her hands. It was harder to move on and resume ‘normal’ life after such a wonderful date when the girl she’d gone out with had never really left. They’d shared a quick goodnight peck on the cheek before getting out of the car and... going upstairs together. They’d brushed their teeth next to one another, glancing at one another in the mirror until Anna had accidentally gagged on her toothbrush in an entirely unattractive fashion. Her only saving grace was that Elsa had done the same when she started laughing.

And then the question of where Elsa would sleep that night seemed to linger in a goodnight hug that lasted for a distinctly non-platonic length of time. When they finally broke apart, it was almost a relief when Elsa smiled and squeezed Anna’s shoulder before going to her own bedroom for the night.

In the morning, eating breakfast next to Elsa at the table had proven nearly impossible. Anna just kept thinking about the kiss and replaying every perfect moment from the night before: every time Elsa held her hand, every smile they’d shared, every kiss, every—

“So how’s your homework coming?”

Anna winced. “It’s not,” she mumbled into her hands.

“Distracted?” Behind her, Anna heard the shift of Elsa’s chair.

A nod. “Maybe a little.”

Elsa sighed. “Me too. I... I keep replaying the date in my head.” Her voice dropped. “It really was amazing, Anna.”

Sitting up, Anna gave Elsa a skeptical look. “You seem to be doing much better than me.” She gestured to her outline in futility. “I feel like I barely made it through breakfast, trying not to look at you like how I’m thinking about you.”

“How... how are you thinking about me?” Elsa’s lips twitched into a satisfied smile, almost smug.

Gesturing vaguely, Anna felt a blush stealing over her cheeks. “Like, ‘oh wow she’s so beautiful,’ or, ‘oh there’s a bit of syrup on her lip; I could kiss it off,’ or, ‘wow she looks so happy; did I make her that happy?’” Anna looked away. “I just... I was trying so hard to look normal and not do anything that might draw attention, but I felt like I was completely and utterly failing.” She paused a moment, staring at the ceiling. “And... I dunno. Normally, if I’m on a date and it goes well, I kiss the person the next time I see them. I keep feeling like I should, but it’s complicated because I also know that I shouldn’t?”

Elsa’s chair shifted again and Anna heard her stand up. “Well... I can address that last problem, at the very least.”

Anna spun around and abruptly found herself looking up at Elsa, who had crossed the room to stand next to her chair. “I-I was just rambling,” Anna stammered. “You don’t have to do anything, Elsa. You don’t have to, um.” Her volume dropped as Elsa put a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t have to kiss me.”

Leaning down, Elsa just smiled. “I know,” she said, hesitating a breath from Anna’s lips.

Closing her eyes, Anna pressed forward and their lips met in a soft kiss that lingered a moment before they pulled back, barely. And then before Anna could even open her eyes, Elsa pulled on her shoulder and the kissed again, deeper this time. Anna relaxed into the motion, brushing her tongue against Elsa’s lip in a gesture she reciprocated a beat later.

Anna brushed her thumb along the inside of Elsa’s elbow before tugging her forward. They broke their kiss, eyes half-lidded, as Elsa knelt on Anna’s chair and moved closer before they resumed their activity. Her hands fell to rest on Elsa’s hips as their lips touched again.

The kiss grew more heated until Elsa just barely bit Anna’s lip, drawing out a wavering breath, not quite a gasp. Flushed bright red, they seemed to take this as a signal to pull back, though not before one last, chaste peck.

Eyes hazy, Anna just gazed up at Elsa a moment before registering, fully, that Elsa was essentially straddling her lap as she sat in her desk chair. Elsa’s hand on her shoulder had, at some point, moved to cup Anna’s cheek. They stayed there a moment, frozen. Anna could hear the hitch in Elsa’s breathing, the room was so quiet.

A door closed downstairs and the sound reverberated like a gunshot.

Elsa scrambled backward off of Anna’s chair, a hand flying to cover her mouth. “I’m so—”

“Elsa, I—”

They both stopped, trying to let the other continue. Anna abruptly stood up. Sitting in her chair had suddenly taken on an unexpectedly sensual quality. “I’m gonna get some water for us,” she said, voice high.

Elsa nodded vigorously. “Staying hydrated is essential for healthy studying,” she said.

“Right.”

“Right.”

Anna found herself staring at Elsa for a moment, mind awash with suddenly more kisses to replay, before she caught herself and nodded. “Right,” she repeated. “I’ll be right back.”

Elsa smiled. “I’ll, uh, I’ll be here!”

Though clearly said out of nervousness, Anna couldn’t help but smile at that. She left her room with some small assurance that Elsa wouldn’t run away, never to return, and immediately went to the bathroom.

Looking in the mirror, Anna checked herself over and took several deep breaths. The girl looking back at her bore no visible signs of having totally just made out with her half-sister. Neither of them had been wearing lipstick nor left any marks. Closing her eyes for a moment, Anna tried to calm the invisible signs.

Well, not quite invisible, but the ones that weren’t actual marks on her skin or lips. Her wavering breaths, the deep flush in her cheeks, and... Anna leaned closer to the mirror and confirmed the presence of dilated eyes.

Anna turned the faucet and bent over to splash some water in her face to help pull her out of the moment and maybe cool the blush off her cheeks. As much as Adgar and Idunn were completely disinclined to involve themselves in Anna’s life, they might start caring a bit more if they suspected that Anna and Elsa were making out with each other.

The thought sent Anna down an immediate, happy train of thought (because, well, making out. With Elsa.) and she let her mind wander a bit before leaning down again and splashing a more water in her face.

She and Elsa would have to talk and figure out official rules to their covert-by-necessity relationship. Anna stepped over and dried her face off with the towel. But no matter what, Anna could not start acting like a lovesick teenage girl. Once her face was dry, she glanced back at the mirror. Aside from a bit of dampness around her bangs, she looked entirely normal. No blush, no irrepressible smile curling the corners of her mouth, and her breathing had evened out.

Anna sighed and left the bathroom, plodding downstairs to fetch some glasses of water for her and Elsa.

On her way to the kitchen, she passed the office where Idunn was working. The woman didn’t seem to notice her, but Anna made a point of stopping by on her way back upstairs with the water, just to prove to herself that she could totally pull off ‘normal.’

“Hello, Idunn,” she said, stepping halfway in the office doorway. “How’s your day going?”

Idunn glanced up and over from her desk. She seemed mildly surprised to see Anna there, but only said, “It’s going well enough, I suppose. I have a bit of a tedious case I’m working on right now, but I’ll make it through to the other side eventually.”

Anna nodded sympathetically. “That’s how I feel about my paper outline.”

“We’ll make it through,” Idunn replied, expression softening into a smile that, for once, didn’t seem mitigated by the complications of their relationship. “I find that the most difficult work, if nothing else, offers the greatest sense of relief. Make sure you take a break when you accomplish a milestone or small goal.”

“I will.” Anna smiled back. Briefly, she wondered if, while she and Idunn would never be mother and daughter, if maybe, someday, they might be friends. The older woman had a lot of qualities Anna admired, sort of. She was a bit of a square, but they occassionally managed decent exchanges. Could Anna be friends when her dead mother was ‘the other woman’ from Idunn’s marriage?

Wincing internally, Anna was about to turn on her heel and leave when Idunn asked, “Did you get water for both you and Elsa?”

Anna turned back around and nodded. “Yep! Gotta stay hydrated while studying.”

Idunn seemed to sense that the previous natural quality had vanished from their conversation and called back stiffly, “Well done. Hydration is critical to your health.”

She couldn’t be sure, but Anna thought she might have heard a sigh of relief from the office as she kept on walking and went up the stairs.

Could she be friends with her half-sister/girlfriend’s mother? Anna decided to stop asking herself stupid questions.

Arriving back to the room, Elsa’s shoulders dropped in palpable relief at the sight of Anna. “Oh good,” she said, “you’re back.”

“Did you think I’d disappeared?” Anna wrinkled her nose as she set Elsa’s water down on her desk.

“No.” Elsa shook her head. “But you were gone long enough that I started to worry and overthink things a bit.”

Anna smiled. “I just had to use the bathroom real quick before I went downstairs and, on my way back up, I stopped to chat with Idunn for a bit.”

Elsa squinted at her, sipping her water. “You what? Why?”

“I dunno.” A shrug. “I just... I...” A faint blush snuck onto Anna’s cheeks. “I was feeling, um, a bit discombobulated after the, uh, kiss. The kissing.”

From Elsa’s expression, Anna could tell that other girl had no idea how that statement even potentially connected to why she had stopped and talked with Idunn.

“So I guess I stopped to say hello to her because I was trying to... prove to myself that I felt normal? That everything was chill and okay and I could keep a good poker face?” Anna shrugged again, then drank some of her water.

“No... that... that actually makes sense.” Elsa patted her cheek absently. “And, um, speaking of which, we should, um... yeah...” Her voice trailed off and she looked suddenly enthralled with the corner of Anna’s ceiling.

“Talk about stuff?” Anna prompted.

Elsa nodded. “Kissing and relationship and date things....”

“Half-sister things?”

They both winced. Elsa mumbled, “Yeah.”

A beat later, Anna moved back over to her bed and set her water down on her bedside table. “Frankly, I’m not even going to pretend that I can do homework and have this conversation at the same time,” she said, quickly making the bed. “So I’m gonna sit here and if you would be more comfortable doing homework, that’s just fine. I just don’t think I can, okay?”

“I think I’ll join you, actually,” Elsa said, standing up and stretching. “I’ve made enough progress that I think I can take a break for the conversation without starting to feel anxious about things.”

Anna finished pulling the green comforter up and sat herself against one corner of the bed. “Do you have your worry stone with you?” she asked.

Elsa shook her head. “It’s in my room.”

“I think you should get it,” Anna said, lips pulling into a resigned smile. “This will probably be a bit of a stressful conversation. I wouldn’t want you to be stuck without recourse.”

“I... think I should,” Elsa admitted. “I’ll be right back.”

“Mkay.”

Anna sat on her bed and tried not to psych herself out or overthink things. She’d had relationship talks before. Usually it was because she had difficulty expressing or really defining the difference between platonic and romantic feelings, but she’d made it through difficult conversations before. Even some with Elsa, though on different topics.

She took a deep breath. It would be a rough conversation, but Anna tried to focus instead on the sense of relief she knew would come at the end of it. The hardest things always felt the best when they were done. The two of them wouldn’t be in flux anymore, stepping around one another without knowing what the rules were.

Never before in her life had Anna so badly wanted a set of rules and guidelines.

Elsa knocked as she opened the door, gripping her worry stone in one hand. After closing the door behind her, she ran a hand through her bangs, sweeping them back from her forehead for a moment before they fell back down to frame her face. “I’m ready as I’ll ever be,” she said.

“Same. Let’s just push through and get it done with.”

Elsa sat on the opposite corner of the bed from Anna. “I went halfway down the stairs and think I heard m—Idunn on the phone. Not that she normally interrupts or comes to say hello, but... I don’t know.” Elsa’s voice pressed into a rush. “I just thought you might take some comfort in that because I feel a little better knowing my mother isn’t going to walk in on us talking about things and sorry I’m just starting to get really anxious about this. Sorry.”

“Hey, hey, it’s all gonna be alright,” Anna said, smiling to maybe instill confidence in herself and in Elsa. “You said you had confidence in us last night? That we can work this out?”

Elsa nodded, hugging a knee up to her chest. “Yeah...”

Anna felt herself relax a bit. “See? So... let’s talk about external issues first?”

“How do you mean?” Elsa furrowed her brow.

“Like... external to us. People who are not us. Does anyone know? Do we tell any of our friends?”

Elsa was already shaking her head so Anna stopped to let her interject with, “Not now, not ever.”

Anna shrugged. “That’s fine with me. Nobody at school knows we’re actually related, so it seemed like something we should cover. Even though nobody knows it just seems like... tempting fate, to risk someone saying something to Adgar or Idunn, thinking they’d know already or something.”

“No tempting fate please,” Elsa said, shaking her head again. “I’m pretty sure I would just keel over and die if my parents found out. I prefer crippling caution when compared to death by anxiety-induced heart attack.”

“I... I don’t think it would matter so much to me,” Anna admitted. “I’m also at a point where it really doesn’t matter to me, not really, what they think of me or what they do. They’re so detached from my life that, so long as I could avoid direct consequences like potentially being kicked out or something, it wouldn’t really matter, them knowing.” Anna shrugged. She refused to think about the directions Elsa’s depression might take if they were caught. “But I completely understand why them knowing anything at all is a terrible idea. So absolute secrecy is the standard! No romantic PDA.” They just wouldn’t get caught, period. She refused to put Elsa through that, let alone herself.

“What about dates?” Elsa tilted her head. “I think we did okay yesterday.”

“Yeah... yesterday seemed to work fine,” Anna said, tapping her chin. “We could just make a habit that, if we’re going on a date that is going to clearly read as romantic, we need to go at least to the next town? And limit kissing where people might see?” Anna paused and made a face. “Though that one is half because someone might recognize us and half because we’re both girls and some people are still stuck in the 50s.”

“Makes sense. It was fine last night because the path in the park was clear, but I’m generally not much for public displays of affection anyway.” Elsa seemed a bit more relaxed now, which calmed Anna down somewhat. “I’d like to maintain the status quo at school,” Elsa said, “because I like what we’ve been doing, checking in on one another. I think it would be disheartening to stop and potentially anxiety-inducing to change anything. We have a good thing going right now.”

Anna nodded. “Plus, it might be more suspicious if we suddenly stop doing what we’ve been doing. If people ask if something has changed with us, that could draw unwanted attention.”

“That takes care of school, dates, friends, and parents,” Elsa said, counting things out on her fingers. “What about, um, being at home and... being involved together?”

A blush tinged Anna’s cheeks, thinking about sound she’d made when Elsa bit her lip just a few minutes ago. “Yes. Um. That.”

“It’s simultaneously the safest place and the least safe one?” Elsa was fiddling with the end of her braid. “On the one hand, it’s a private location. We’re always aware of who’s home. Adgar and Idunn are extremely habitual people who tend to be forthright about their schedules. Nobody else can accidentally just stumble upon us, like, kissing in a park or something.” Elsa paused and Anna noticed her rub her thumb against her worry stone. “At the same time, home is also a terrible idea because, in all the world, the worst people to find out would be the two other people who live here.”

“That, and....” Anna smiled crookedly. “I think your heart might give out from the stress of trying to dance around them. I... I really liked earlier. On, um, my chair. But I also think my life flashed before my eyes when I heard that door slam.”

Elsa laughed. “Me too! My immediate thought was that dying right after a kiss like that wasn’t a bad way to go.”

“Well you’re not going anywhere,” Anna stated. “So how can we avoid the about-to-die feeling?”

“It’s limiting but...” Elsa squeezed her knee against her chest and sighed. “We could make a point of only being, um, physically involved when we have the house to ourselves, when Adgar and Idunn are gone and we know we’ll have a certain amount of time alone.”

Sighing, Anna admitted, “It’s the safest option. I also have the sudden desire to try and set up a twice-weekly date night for them.”

Elsa tilted her head. “I can’t decide if that suggestion would be more or less awkward, coming from you rather than from me.”

“You could probably pull it off better,” Anna admitted. “The ‘group outing to the mall’ thing you gave them to cover our date was pretty good.”

“I try.”

“You did great.”

A brief silence came over them. Anna mentally reviewed the rules they’d laid down and, while they were certainly limiting, there was some safety in that. No risk of Elsa delivering some surprise kiss at a time Anna had assumed they weren’t supposed to be kissing. She wouldn’t have to worry about trying to balance being Elsa’s support partner at school with being her girlfriend.

Girlfriend.

Anna opened her mouth, then closed it again.

Shit.

“Anna?” Elsa tilted her head, sweeping her bangs back from her face.

“Uh... are we, um.” Anna fiddled with one of her braids. “Are we, I guess, casually involved or are we more... relationship-y or.... I don’t know.” Anna slouched. “I’m not very good at defining relationships with people. This is typically the part where I mess up and offend someone.” Anna reached over and took a long drink of water.

“It’s alright,” Elsa said. “Let’s just talk through it. Um... We don’t need to use the label ‘girlfriends’ or anything if you don’t want to, obviously. I don’t know what your typical boundary is for starting a relationship-relationship—”

“Neither do I,” Anna mumbled the words into her glass.

Rolling her eyes, Elsa continued, “But for me,” she said, “I tend to consider it a relationship if I’m not looking to date other people at the time. The girls I’ve dated in the past have all come with some level of exclusivity. When I was with them, I wasn’t considering other girls.”

Anna straightened up. “Are you.... are you thinking of that right now? Being with other girls?”

Elsa shook her head. “Not in the slightest,” she said. “The idea of bringing in someone new in my life is... exhausting. I dont’ think I have the energy right now. There’s nobody that I already know that’s caught my eye.” Elsa paused and clarified, “Nobody but you, anyway. And... since there’s the, um, half-sister thing we need to address still, I’m not really inclined to date anyone because I would basically go into it having to keep a really big secret from them. I couldn’t date someone and not tell them I was dating someone else.” Elsa took a deep breath. “So... I guess that means... yeah I’m exclusive to you right now, whether or not you want to, um, date-date?” Elsa’s voice deteriorated a bit by the end: less statement than question.

“I... the idea of girlfriends seems nice,” Anna said, trying to reassure Elsa. “I’m not very good at figuring out platonic and romantic feelings and with you it’s all further messed up with, um... pseudo-familial feelings?” A sharp blush rose in Anna’s cheeks. It sounded so messed up, but in her head the feelings all mixed together without an issue. Elsa was just Elsa and she was really important in a bunch of ways that Anna couldn’t label if she tried. And she had tried so, so hard. “I don’t know how to sort all the feelings out,” Anna said, “but I do like the idea of something more... established. Between us. Kind of relationship-y.”

Tilting her head, Elsa leaned forward. “May I ask why?”

In Elsa’s blue eyes, Anna didn’t see any judgement, just curiosity. A vulnerability that matched her own. This was an honest conversation; she took a deep breath. “Because along with all the good feelings, the way my world seems to light up with you smile—” Here Elsa blushed and her lips twitched into a smile. “—it’s also frightening. This is kind of a big taboo and I would feel better, I think, if we approached it a little more seriously. We’re not just s-sisters who go on dates and kiss sometimes.” Anna paused a moment to catch her breath, trying to suppress the tightness in her throat. The word ‘sister’ caught so much it hurt to say. “If we’re gonna do this, like really try to have something... something genuine and wonderful with each other, I want to be your girlfriend. Going steady. Exclusive. Whatever makes it serious and legit. I don’t just want this to be some fling, some physical thing that we can’t help, nothing but chemistry we can’t resist or whatever.”

Across the bed, Elsa fidgeted while Anna talked until the very end, when she seemed finally unable to help herself and crawled over to sweep them up in a tight hug. Part of it felt sisterly, comforting and secure; part of it felt distinctly romantic, passionate and desperate as Elsa seized a fistful of Anna’s shirt. “I understand,” she whispered into Anna’s neck. Despite the stress of the conversation, the whisper sent a wave of oh-wait-that’s-really-nice up Anna’s spine and she leaned tighter into the hug, pulling Elsa closer.

“I want something to call you,” Anna mumbled. “We... we’ve never been good at being sisters or friends. We’ve keep sliding into other roles with each other, trying to figure out how to fit together and... and I think girlfriend could work.”

“Partners in crime.” Elsa smiled against her neck and Anna wondered if she knew how distracting it was.

She gently broke off the hug, leaving a brief kiss on Elsa’s shoulder as she did so. “I just want to be beside you,” she said.

Elsa paused a beat, then winked and quickly moved to sit next to Anna, her back against the headboard. “Does this work?” she asked. Her tone played at being tentative and unsure, but her eyes sparkled with mischievous intent.

Anna rolled her eyes. “You’re getting worse than I am,” she said, gently knocking her elbow against Elsa’s shoulder.

“You love me for it.”

A long pause followed and Anna eventually just shrugged. “Yeah,” she said. “I... I do. I’ve loved you since I was a kid. I never wanted anything else but to love you and get to express how much I cared about you.” She knew Elsa had been joking, but the honest reply insisted itself until Anna just went along with it. “And when I could, we kept missing each other on how to do so. We didn’t work well as friends...”

“We run in such different circles,” Elsa admitted.

“You tried being my mom for a while...”

Elsa winced. “I’m sorry about that.”

“And we’re... oddly matched as sisters.” Anna tucked some hair behind her ear. “I... I never feel like I know what to do, or what’s okay. I feel like we should fight more? Or be less relevant in each other’s lives? But... the moments when we’re being romantic or we’re being, um, kind of physical with each other... those feel like we’re getting something right.”

Smile pulled to one side, Elsa sighed. “Of course, it would be the one thing we’re not supposed to do that feels right and fitting, huh.”

“Just our luck.”

“So... does this mean we’re girlfriends?” Elsa leaned her shoulder against Anna’s. “We can’t get anything else right, so we might as well commit if we’re gonna go the, um, forbidden incest route?”

Anna snickered. It made the fear hurt less. “Go big or go home. We might as well try. It gives me something to call you, it gives us some security, and...” Anna leaned against Elsa a bit more. “And it feels nice.”

“It does...” An edge had worked its way into Elsa’s voice, however. After a moment, she continued, “I do have to ask, however... do you feel any, um, guilt? About the half-sisters thing? It’s kind of a gigantic cultural taboo, and yeah...?”

Taking a deep breath, Anna slowly pulled away from Elsa and turned so she had one shoulder leaned against the headboard, facing her girlfriend. Her girlfriend.

She smiled, despite the question. “I... do,” Anna admitted, “but nothing especially damning. I wonder sometimes what my mother would think or say, but it’s not like you and I grew up together. Knowing, in abstract, that you were my sister... that didn’t stick. You were never there. When people at school asked, I would say I didn’t have any siblings. I didn’t have a dad. Now, strictly biologically speaking, that’s not true. But... that’s how I grew up.” She gave Elsa’s arm a quick squeeze, prompting her to turn so their eyes would meet. “You don’t need to give up being my sister, in the small ways we’ve managed that, in order to be my girlfriend.” Anna paused, considering. “I think... I would have trouble seeing you as my sister no matter what,” she said. “Even if we hadn’t... gone down this path, even if the girlfriend thing doesn’t work out, I think I would always have that trouble.”

Elsa averted her gaze again, staring at the spare desk in the corner. “I... I feel a little more guilty than you do, I think,” she said. “I’m supposed to be the big sister, the one who protects you. It feels like I’m leaving behind one role for another. One of them is ‘right’ and the other one feels right.” She buried her face in her hands, hugging her knees to her chest. “And... what if it doesn’t work out? What if we mess up or just aren’t compatible or break up in three months like most other high school relationships?” Elsa lowered her hands, locking her gaze on Anna with a deep intensity, deep fear. “I don’t want to take this gamble on you, on us, and lose.”

“You said last night that you have confidence in us,” Anna said, pulling a brave smile to her face. “And I’m saying right now that so do I. We’ve got something special. We’re mutually supportive and we’re good at having friends other than one another and a whole host of other things that most high school relationships fail at.”

The room fell silent, the humm of Anna’s computer providing a bit of white noise. Eventually, Elsa responded. “But... if you and I, if we break up...” She took a deep breath, steadying herself. “If we’re going to date,” she began again, “we need to be prepared to break up, if we need to. If it’s not working, we both need to be okay with truly and honestly breaking it off.”

Anna blanched. “Do we have to talk about some theoretical end when we’ve just barely—”

“Yes.” Elsa had on her most serious expression. “If we’re going to kiss and date, we’re doing a serious relationship. That’s what we agreed to. And if we’re going to do the girlfriend thing, then... we need to address what happens if it doesn’t work.”

“But it is an ‘if,’ Elsa,” Anna interjected.

Elsa’s expression softened slightly. “It’s an ‘if,’” she said, “but it’s an important one. I... I have confidence in us such that I’m not planning out our failure. I just need to know that we’re on the same page. If we break up... there are no expectations of how our relationship can or will revert back to what we had before. The only way to eliminate the power-differential in our relationship is to agree that it doesn’t matter.”

“Power-differential? I’m not sure what you mean.”

Blue eyes met hers intently. “I mean that in most relationships, if you break up, you aren’t under some sort of deep societal pressure to maintain a certain kind of relationship with the person. Friend groups might split and divisions might be awkward, but anyone who tells them they ‘have’ to be nice is someone we would generally regard as an insensitive asshole.” Elsa’s gaze dropped. “However... because we’re sisters. Half-sisters. Even though it’s basically only a few people who know, there would be... undue pressure for us to have a certain kind of familial thing going on. Nobody would know we were dating or that we broke up and I just... I don’t want you to feel trapped. Or me.” Elsa’s words kept getting faster, cramming closer together. She grabbed Anna’s hands with clammy palms.

“I have no idea if I’m explaining this right,” Elsa said, “But I just want you to promise me that, if we break up, if we have to... We get space and time to figure things out again with no expectations. No assumptions about what we can be with each other. If you can’t agree to this, then neither of us would be able to break up if we needed to. And... and as much as I want this, I can’t go into it without that safety net. For you and for me.”

“We’re gambling,” Anna said. Her voice felt hollow. “We’re gambling everything we have on everything we want.”

Elsa just nodded.

Anna sat back, letting go of Elsa’s hands.

She hated everything that her girlfriend, her sister, had just said. But... it made sense. She hated it more because of that. It was so considerate, so damn logical. It was for both their protection. Despite feeling that she’d swapped one role for the other, Elsa had come back around to protecting Anna in the end.

Anna had fucked up various friendships by dating or kissing or whatever, but... she’d always had the option to back out. There was never some sort of deep obligation keeping her tied to an ex. Whenever there was, she hated it. Normally, the thing keeping them together was petty. A class project or some acquaintances in common. And maybe one time it wasn’t so petty, more like whoops-we-live-in-the-same-cabin when there was still a month left at camp.

Being able to leave had been... healthy, however. Necessary. It’s the only reason she was able to (eventually) be friends again with some of her exes.

Anna bowed her head. “I agree,” she said. “It... it’s hard to think about. I don’t want to think about it. But... it’s necessary.”

Elsa’s shoulders slumped in relief. “Thank you,” she said.

“No, thank you.” Anna smiled.

Elsa smiled back.

It wasn’t a kind moment. Instead of their usual easy rapport, the space between them weighed heavy with understanding and uncertainty.

Anna refused to second-guess herself as she leaned forward and planted a soft kiss full of assurance against Elsa’s cheek. “We’ve got this,” she whispered.

Elsa shivered. “Idunn is home,” she said automatically.

Anna winked and sat back. “I wasn’t gonna do anything else, darling,” she said. “You’re the one getting ahead of yourself.”

If Anna had ever seen Elsa’s cheeks so bright red, she couldn’t recall.

“I-is there anything else we need to discuss?” Elsa managed, gaze fixed on her lap.

Fully prepared to tease her again, Anna found that, actually, she did have an issue she wanted to discuss. Well. Not issue. “Um... I do, in fact,” she said. “I.... we. Um. You and I have, over the past several months, not infrequently shared a bed.”

“Oh. Yes. That.” Elsa’s blush didn’t get worse, but it certainly wasn’t getting any better.

“I was thinking, um, it’s been nice. Really nice, actually, having you so close. But since we had our confession over winter break... everything’s kind of taken on a new context?”

Elsa nodded. “I’ve noticed too.”

“So yeah. I.... I want what we’ve been having.” Anna allowed herself a tiny smirk. “I know you do too. But... for now. Maybe we should sort of... not go with the previous assumptions? Work our way back up to it with the new context of we’re-dating-now.”

“That’s a good idea,” Elsa said. “I’m simultaneously a bit grateful, since there isn’t the pressure to jump right in again. But I’m also a little grumpy because I really liked spooning with you.”

Anna laughed, enjoying the feeling of the conversation lightening up a bit, the hard parts coming to a close. “I would love to spoon with you, Elsa,” she said, “But now that we’re dating we’re going to have to establish that physicality all over again. No cheating and making it all easy and unconscious by having neither of us acknowledging our feelings.”

“Rebuilding physical intimacy with Anna Wintergale.” Elsa rolled her eyes. “Oh what a chore. What tedium. I might have to go kiss a horse instead.”

Wincing, Anna shook her head. “Don’t do that. Some of them bite.”

Elsa giggled. “But you seemed to like it just fine when I bit you earlier.” She stretched as she stood up, getting off the bed.

Heat rushed to Anna’s cheeks. She totally watched Elsa’s ass while she stretched. “I... I but...” She hopped off the bed on the other side and huffed. “But you’re not a goddamn horse, Elsa!”

“So does that mean you don’t want to ride me?”

A beat. Anna blinked.

Elsa stopped short, clapping a hand over her mouth.

Anna’s mouth fell open, then closed. Her eyes met Elsa’s wide, horrified gaze.

Anna fell back into her desk chair, shaking with laughter, right as Elsa blurt out, “That was so crass, I am so—”

Elsa retaliated to Anna’s laughter with an indignant huff as she sat down at her desk. Somehow, they managed to get back to homework, joking with one another in a new, more flirtatious shade than their usual. Anna even managed to push forward on her paper outline.

Nothing could have been so good on a Sunday afternoon.

An hour later, when Idunn came upstairs to tell them that she was going to the grocery store real quick and good-job-on-your-homework-stay-hydraded, Anna and Elsa just nodded.

They sat in silence, listening to the sounds of Idunn getting ready to go until the garage door closed.

Anna winked. “Your chair or mine?”

(They made out in Elsa’s chair until it fell over backwards. After a brief check for concussions, they decided to just make out on the floor. A study break had never been so rewarding.)

Chapter Text

The week after their date and conversation proceeded normally. As with most afternoons, they spent their time together platonically, doing homework, as usual.

The quiet scritch of Elsa’s pencil against paper and the roll of the washing machine down the hall provided the soundtrack.

Anna’s bedroom, as usual. The normal setting.

The house was so quiet that Anna could hear every shift of her chair, the sound of Elsa leaning forward against her desk a bit more.

Anna worked at a slower pace than Elsa, but was doing alright, still. Math this time, and it wasn’t not Anna’s favorite, but she couldn’t help but like trig a little better ever since the Elsa rambled one time about the beauty of math in architecture, of how the most carefree, graceful buildings had the most math at their core. They’d gotten rather off-topic from Elsa helping her with her math homework, but the tangent had since given Anna a sense of peace about the topic. Even if math wasn’t her favorite thing, it was still an Elsa thing. Somehow, that made the triangles more bearable.

Triangles. Three. There had been three people in the house: Anna, Elsa, and Idunn.

Idunn had left to go on an errand. That meant there were two people in the house.

Just Anna and Elsa, home alone.

Not the usual.

Anna glanced over her shoulder, again, at the blonde working at her spare desk. Elsa seemed completely unaffected by Idunn having left about ten minutes ago, but Anna knew better by now. She yawned, stretching. “I don’t know about you, but I need a break, Elsa.” Anna wasn’t applying herself fully, so she might as well take a break and clear her mind.

Elsa continued to write for another few seconds, until she reached the end of her sentence, then set her pencil down. She didn’t turn around. “A break? It’s only been half an hour since our last one.”

Sauntering over, Anna smiled. “Well, last I checked, frequent breaks increase the overall quality of work, along with the work-over-time output ratio.” And if she had spent some of her homework time googling the benefits of taking breaks, it was only because quoting them helped Elsa justify taking them without triggering her anxiety.

True to form, Elsa’s shoulders dropped their tension as Anna came over and started massaging them a bit. “If that’s the case, then I guess taking a break would be, um, actually more beneficial to my work than to continue working right now at a lower median quality output.”

“That’s the spirit!” Anna said, guiding Elsa’s shoulders up and out of her chair. Elsa turned around as she did and moved her hands to Anna’s hips, backing them up until they reached the bed. “Want to snuggle?” Anna asked.

Elsa nodded and they clambered onto the bed, immediately assuming their favorite snuggling positions of late: Elsa on her back and Anna on her side, using Elsa’s shoulder as a pillow and pressed close. Anna closed her eyes and laid her arm across Elsa’s abdomen.

They lay there for several minutes, cozy in the quiet of the empty house.

Anna broke first.

She cleared her throat. “So,” she began, “do you want to... you know.”

Elsa pulled Anna a bit closer and chuckled. “Do I want to what?”

Anna glanced up and stuck her tongue out at Elsa, who was smirking. “You know what I’m talking about, Elsa,” she said.

“Well maybe I just want to hear you say it.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re the one getting all flustered about asking if we can make out.”

Anna blushed. “It’s still kind of a new thing,” she complained. “I... I just want to make sure you still want to too.”

Then Elsa blushed. She glanced away. “I... um, I kind of always want to,” she muttered.

Sitting up, Anna laughed. “We have rules about that, darling.”

“Yes.... and right now, the rules say it’s fine, so...” Elsa quickly sat up and grabbed Anna’s shoulders, pulling her forward for a brief kiss. “So I’m gonna kiss you, since you want me to.”

Anna giggled. “Oh you’re terrible,” she said. “I think I’ll kiss you right back then.” Anna ran a hand through Elsa’s bangs, pushing them back (she loved that) before burying her fingers in Elsa’s hair, pulling her close for a longer kiss. Their lips lingered together, soft and unable to meet nearly as often as Anna wished they could.

“You always want to kiss me?” Anna murmured against Elsa’s lips. She couldn’t fight the smile that came with the statement.

Elsa kissed her again, then grumbled, “Not literally all the time, you smug jerk. Not like... while you’re brushing your teeth or chewing with your mouth open or whatever.”

“I do not chew with my mouth open,” Anna protested, pulling away from Elsa’s next attempted kiss. “You take that back.”

Eyes on Anna’s lips, Elsa did not meet Anna’s mock-glare. “I’m sorry,” she apologized quickly. “I’m just... I think about you a lot. A lot of what I think about that’s about you is, um, kissing.”

Leaning forward, Anna planted a gentle kiss against the corner of Elsa’s jawline, right under her ear, before turning the gesture into a quick bite. Elsa gasped, arms wrapping tightly around Anna. “I can’t imagine why,” she whispered, smirking against the sensitive skin of Elsa’s neck.

“You’re incorrigible.” Elsa leaned her head to the side, baring more of her neck as Anna lightly ran her tongue down from Elsa’s ear, stopping to place another bite over her clavicle. She had never appreciated before how Elsa abstained from crew-neck t-shirts, opting instead to wear scoop-neck shirts as her default, leaving her skin more available for Anna’s access.

“Whatever that means, I most certainly am.” Anna guided them back down onto the bed, kissing her way back up to Elsa’s lips, which met hers enthusiastically. Kissing one another hadn’t lost that new, magical quality that had Anna lying awake at night, just reliving the moments over and over. Everything about Elsa’s lips and tongue felt as exciting as the first times they’d kissed, probably because (under the rules they’d agreed to) they couldn’t do so as often as they’d like.

But what practice they had made each kiss better than the last, more comfortable from habit.

Elsa brushed her tongue along that one spot and Anna moaned against her lips. Elsa smirked back and Anna just pressed herself closer, burying her fingers in Elsa’s hair.

Elsa had done the thing because she knew Anna liked it. She knew Anna liked it because, in the brief splashes of physical intimacy that they managed to steal together, Elsa was coming to know Anna’s body more and more, to know what she liked and didn’t like, how she liked to be kissed, when to bite and how Anna moved when Elsa’s fingers moved against that one spot on her back.

Somehow, that just made the kissing all the hotter, Elsa steadily making a map of everything that drove Anna crazy as they got to know one another’s lips.

Anna shifted so she could go back to kissing Elsa’s neck and collarbone, humming an affirmative when Elsa breathed a distracted reminder of, “No marks.” No matter how badly Anna wanted to, she knew better than to do something so risky.

Instead, she bit and tugged on Elsa’s earlobe, laughing quietly when Elsa responded by seizing a fistful of her shirt, nails scraping against Anna’s back. “You like your ears,” Anna whispered. She ran her tongue along the outer curve and pressed a smiling kiss to the corner of Elsa’s jaw.

“M-mmmhmm,” Elsa managed, hands grasping at Anna’s back. In the middle of placing a kiss on Elsa’s other earlobe, Anna gasped when one of Elsa’s hands slipped under the back of her shirt.

They yanked back. Elsa’s hand whipped away as though Anna had burned her. “I’m so sorry!”

Anna shook her head. “No it’s fine! Very fine!”

Between her mussed hair and shirt (which had ridden several inches up), Elsa’s fierce blush made it look as though they’d been doing more than just making out. Anna knew she probably didn’t look much better. She took a deep breath.

They both self-consciously tugged their shirts back into place. Elsa cleared her throat. “Are you sure it’s alright, Anna?” she asked, voice steadier.

Nodding, Anna managed a self-conscious smile. “I... I’m sorry I gasped right in your ear like that,” she said. “I was just surprised.”

“It’s alright, you’re always really good at keeping it quiet when you do that. Accidents happen.” Elsa smiled back, rubbing her ear a bit. She ran a hand through her bangs. “I hadn’t meant to do that, by the way,” she said. “I’d just been, um, grabbing your shirt and then you, um, you were doing the, uh, thing.”

“Well... I don’t mind,” Anna said, “so... if that’s a thing you want to do, it is a thing I would be 100% okay with happening.”

Elsa smiled, slipping a hand behind Anna’s neck and pulling her in for a brief kiss. “Good to know,” she whispered afterward.

It took them another minute to fall back into the rhythm they’d had before. Elsa guided them so they were lying on their sides, then shifted to start kissing Anna’s neck, which was, uh, rather distracting. Anna had almost forgotten about the accident when Elsa tugged Anna’s shirt up. She hesitated a moment and tugged on Anna’s earlobe before deliberately trailing her fingers up along Anna’s spine.

Anna’s breathing turned erratic and she hardly realized that Elsa had pulled back from her neck until their eyes met. Elsa seemed half curious, half wanting as her hand continued to move up Anna’s back, feeling along every inch of her skin. Heat spread across her cheeks as Elsa’s hand slipped under her bra strap, touching the part of her back that she couldn’t quite reach, cupping Anna’s shoulder blades.

“I just want to get to know you,” Elsa whispered eventually, trailing her hand back down. Anna’s eyes closed involuntarily as Elsa’s nails scratched lightly down her spine. Elsa paused, tracing her fingertips in a circle over the small of Anna’s back. “Do you like that?” she whispered.

Barely managing a nod, Anna took a shuddering breath and buried her face against Elsa’s shoulder. “I—I don’t think I realized how sensitive my back was before this moment,” she mumbled.

Elsa continued to trace lazy patterns around Anna’s back, stopping to drag her nails along whichever ones seemed to be more sensitive, betrayed by Anna’s small jumps and gasps. “I want to make a map of all your favorite spots,” she whispered, right as she brushed along one of them at the edge of Anna’s hip.

Anna opened her mouth to reply (something about Elsa being free to explore all of her body as much as she wanted) when she heard a distant groan, very different from the noises they’d been making in bed for the past however-long.

In the moment it took Anna to recognize the sound of the garage door opening, Elsa had sprung clear off the bed. Only half a beat behind, Anna rolled off the other side. Still caught in synchronicity, the two of them immediately seized the opposite top corners of the bedsheets and tugged them into place, erasing the mussed signs of their rolling around on it.

Face bright red, Elsa proceeded to her desk and sat down, but didn’t pick up her pencil. Anna cracked open her bedroom door on her way back around her bed to her own desk. Open doors meant nothing suspicious, right?

Downstairs, Anna could hear Adgar calling up, saying he was home. She’d barely sat down in her chair when she stood up again. “I’ll go welcome him home!” she said, voice choked. “Tell him that, um, Idunn stepped out to get that, uh, thing. That she went to get.”

“Dinner,” Elsa reminded her automatically.

“Dinner. That.” Anna stopped in the doorway, looking back Elsa. “I’m gonna use the bathroom real quick before I go down,” she said. Nothing but cold water could douse the fiery blush in her cheeks, Anna was certain of it. “After I’m done, you might want to, um.” Anna gestured to her hair, forgetting what word to use to tell Elsa to fix hers. “It looks a little, um. Like what we were doing.”

“Yes. That.” Elsa had a dumb, happy smile on her face and Anna knew she probably did too.

“That.”

Downstairs, Adgar called out again, asking who was home.

“I’ll be right down,” Anna yelled back, gaze lingering on Elsa before she slipped out her bedroom door.

*

Driving to school, they held hands over the console and it all felt perfect because, in the privacy of Elsa’s car, they could hold hands like a couple and that... that was okay.

It was more than okay. It was wonderful. Driving to school had somehow become Anna’s favorite 15 minutes of the morning. They could just be themselves. No denying chemistry at home and no going about the day as pseudo-friends at school. The drive was an oasis in between.

Anna laughed. “No okay but seriously Elsa: If you’re not my ‘sister from another mister’ then what rhyme fits us?”

“Why do we need a rhyme?” Elsa scoffed. “Someone uses the phrase and now you need to find us a rhyme?”

“Yes, exactly!” Anna grinned. “I’m glad you understand.”

“What I understand is that you’re crazy.” Elsa chuckled, glancing at Anna for a moment before returning her attention to the road. A beat later, her expression shifted from amusement to contemplation.

“What is it?” Anna asked.

Elsa shook her head. “Nothing.”

“Oh c’mon, just tell me.” Anna lifted Elsa’s hand from the console and pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles. “Pleaseeeee?”

“Fine.” Elsa pulled her hand away from Anna to run a hand through her hair. “I was just wondering if our lives would get more or less complicated if you were my ‘sister from another mister.’”

“Well, for one, I wouldn’t be your sister,” Anna pointed out dryly.

“That makes the dating suddenly not-taboo,” Elsa pointed out.

Anna winced. “It also makes the last few years of living here, along with the awkward yearly visits before that, into a seriously complicated mess.”

“But in the end, do we end up with a lower mean level of complications?” Elsa tilted her head and Anna wondered if she was trying to find a way to quantify complications into numbers she could average.

“I’m going to say no,” Anna ventured. “Because the discovery or realization of that fact would bring with it a whole load of drama, and not just in the moment.”

Elsa nodded. “That makes sense.” She pulled up to a stoplight and glanced away from Anna out the side window. A sudden silence fell and Anna got the sense that Elsa was building herself up, trying to say something. Eventually, the light turned green and Elsa cleared her throat. “Do you... do you, um, know?”

Anna squinted. “Know what?”

“Know, um, for sure. That Adgar is your, um, father?” Elsa squirmed in her seat a bit, hunching her shoulders. She’d started gripping the steering wheel with both hands, clearly anxious about the questions.

Anna smiled gently, even though Elsa wasn’t looking at her, and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I know for sure,” she said. “Mom said that, no long after I was born, he very awkwardly asked for a paternity test. Now that I know them a bit better, it wouldn’t surprise me if Idunn had asked him to get one.”

Elsa winced, but her shoulders loosened under Anna’s touch. “I’m sorry for asking, I just... I suddenly wondered.”

“Hey, it’s really alright.” Anna looked out the passenger window. “No big. I went through this angst phase when I was nine or ten, imagining that, since Adgar was so bad at being my dad, that maybe I had a ‘real’ dad out there or something. That’s when Mom gave me The Talk and explained that, for real, there was no chance that anyone other than Adgar was my father, that she wasn’t seeing anyone else at the time so it had to be him.” A beat. Anna smiled, despite herself. “That and the paternity test. That was just extra confirmation when I expressed my doubts that the whole ‘sex’ thing worked like she said it did. I was rather skeptical.”

No response came from the driver’s side of the car. A few moments later, Anna looked over to find Elsa’s eyebrows drawn together. “That... that’s terrible,” Elsa murmurred. “You shouldn’t have had to go through that.”

Anna shrugged. “That’s just how it was. I’ve kind of gotten over it since then. I don’t really need parents anymore anyway. I’m old enough to raise myself now.” It sounded like bravado on her lips, but she said it anyway, enjoying the way she felt brave and carefree to her hearing.

Elsa’s hand found Anna’s and held it. They rode together like that for a few more lights in silence.

Eventually, Anna smiled and squeezed Elsa’s hand as they pulled into the school parking lot. “Imagine if I went through a legitimately rebellious phase,” she said. “Just... imagine how awkward that would be. I would be out past curfew, even though they technically haven’t set me one. They just gave you one and I tend to stick to it. I would play bad music and date all the wrong people and—”

“You’re dating your sister!” Elsa interjected, laughing. “I’m not sure how much more rebellious you could get.”

“Yeah, but they don’t know that, Elsa.” Anna rolled her eyes. “I mean... imagine if I started dating a guy who wore eyeliner and clothes from Hot Topic. I’d bring him home for family dinner and be all like, ‘this is my lover’ and I’m pretty sure Adgar and Idunn would have joint heart attacks from the shock.”

Elsa snickered as she parked the car. “You mean after they get over the surprise that you’re dating someone who isn’t a girl? I still think they’re secretly a little skeptical of the whole ‘pansexual’ thing since you have, thus far, only dated women.”

“You’re the lesbian in the family,” Anna objected. “And it’s not my fault that I intimidate guys, or that they’re not up to my standards.”

Batting her eyelashes, Elsa asked, “And I am?” then looked at her so fondly that Anna thought her heart might stop.

“Oh Elsa,” she said, “You set the standard.”

They started to lean in, then stopped. Kissing in the school parking lot was not something they could do, not with the random students walking past. Anna’s gaze flickered down to Elsa’s lips before looking back at her blue eyes. They just looked at one another for a long moment and Anna had never been more sure that they each wanted to kiss, so so badly, in that moment.

Anna blinked and suddenly something clicked. “Lover,” she blurted.

“What.” Elsa pulled back, clearly thrown out of the moment.

“I figured out our rhyme!”

“Rhyme?”

Anna cackled. “You’re my lover from another mother!”

A beat later, Elsa swatted her on the arm and Anna skipped out of the car. They met on the other side and Elsa just kept shaking her head. “You’re terrible,” she whispered.

Anna just grinned. “Could you ever date a girl who made terrible jokes?”

Elsa smiled indulgently. “Only as long as she told me every single one.”

*

Later that month, Elsa arranged a movie date for them.

Sitting in the dark theater, Anna hadn’t expected the experience to be so radically different from the movie that they’d seen together in December over winter break. Sure, she’d anticipated hand holding, but.... somehow, sitting next to Elsa in a theater as her girlfriend completely transformed the experience.

For one: they picked the back row this time, in a section of the theater with fewer people around so that, as they whispered comments to one another, they didn’t bother anybody else.

About five minutes into the film, Elsa gave an exaggerated yawn and, in a move right out of a teen movie, used the motion to put her arm around Anna’s shoulders.

As best as she could manage in the dim lighting, Anna shot Elsa her most skeptical look. “Really?” she whispered.

Elsa just grinned back, not even the slightest bit ashamed.

As the romantic comedy on-screen progressed in every painful way it could, Anna found herself preferring her off-screen romance. She leaned her head against Elsa’s shoulder and they fed each other popcorn, making snarky comments as the leading man continued to screw things up with the girl, but they were supposed to root for him anyway.

Anna’s favorite part, however, was how, with every mistake, Elsa would whisper, “Now if that were us, here’s how I’d have done it,” and give a succinct workaround solution. The alternate universe rom-com starring Elsa would, apparently, be far less dramatic, completely skip the part where they get the whole bar singing and standing on tables, and probably have been over about fifteen minutes in.

Eventually, Elsa stopped offering solutions, just whispering, “straight people,” whenever something ridiculous happened.

“I know right?” Anna whispered back. She’d honestly wondered why Elsa had picked this movie, but, the longer it went on, the worse it got, the more she enjoyed herself. It wasn’t about the idiots on-screen: it was about watching those idiots with Elsa.

She snuggled closer. “Would a lesbian rom-com be this ridiculous?” she asked.

“You know I hate The L-Word,” Elsa said.

Anna was about to reply that was a TV show and, furthermore, a drama (not a rom-com) when Elsa’s arm around her shoulder shifted and she brushed the tips of her fingers down Anna’s neck, trailing down from the sensitive spot beneath her ear to the collar of Anna’s V-neck shirt. The reply caught in Anna’s throat and she quickly took a sip of water, losing track of the onscreen plot even more. Trying to focus on it instead of Elsa’s gentle, teasing touches just made them all the more distracting.

Taking a handful of popcorn proved to be a mistake as well, since, right before Anna could eat it, Elsa tugged her earlobe. Approximately two pieces went in Anna’s mouth, most of it went in her lap, and one piece went down her shirt.

She sat up, stiffened, wondered if Elsa noticed. Staring at the screen, Anna was glad that Elsa at least probably couldn’t see how bright red her face was. The blush was probably quite deep, if the heat on her cheeks gave any indication.

A moment later, Elsa’s arm shook and Anna looked over to see her girlfriend trying to contain a silent bout of laughter.

Anna crossed her arms, pulling away from Elsa to glare at her properly. The onscreen couple was having a stupid fight; it seemed like appropriate timing. “Not funny,” she hissed.

Elsa just smiled, teeth flashing in the darkness, and winked. “Want me to get that for you?” she asked.

If it were possible, Anna felt herself blush deeper. “You’re certainly more provocative in the dark,” she whispered.

“Was that a yes?” Elsa was still grinning, but she ran a hand through her bangs and Anna was pleased to see that the reserved Elsa she usually knew hadn’t completely disappeared along with the light.

It was... nice. Having Elsa relaxed enough with their fledgling relationship that she was being silly and darling and not thinking about it too hard. That she could catch Anna off-guard, surprise her. This was the girl that Elsa was letting herself be around Anna, because they were comfortable with one another.

“Yes,” Anna replied, lips pulling into a smirk as Elsa’s smug expression shattered, her mouth dropping open as Anna called her bluff.

But, apparently not inclined to admit she’d been caught off-guard, Elsa quickly squared her shoulders and raised a hand. The movement of Elsa’s hand toward Anna’s chest was decidedly tentative, although Anna wasn’t sure if it was for Elsa’s benefit or for her own, should she want to stop Elsa or back down from her yes.

Anna stayed still, oblivious to whatever-the-hell was happening onscreen. Even in the darkness, the deep flush across Elsa’s pale cheeks was rather apparent as her fingers slipped past the V of Anna’s shirt to rescue the errant piece of popcorn. Elsa’s knuckles brushed one of Anna’s breasts as she quickly located the popcorn, then withdrew it as slowly as she’d gone after it. She frowned at the piece, as though, after all that, Elsa had expected it to be bigger or different or made of gold or in some other way more significant looking than a random piece of popcorn.

“I got it,” Elsa said, unnecessarily, hesitating a moment before putting the piece in her mouth and eating it.

“Thanks,” Anna said, sitting back to look at the movie and the actor and actress onscreen who clearly did not have nearly the chemistry that she and Elsa did.

For the rest of the movie, Anna went back and forth about the popcorn thing.

Because on the one hand, it was literally just some stupid popcorn kernel and Elsa had barely even touched her chest. Ugh, it wasn’t even like her last girlfriend-type-person hadn’t, you know, gotten to second base or whatever. It was just... it was Elsa.

Staring blankly at the screen where the couple finally admitted their affections and that they didn’t actually hate one another, Anna cracked a smile. She absolutely hated this movie. But... going to see it with Elsa, she knew she’d always smile when someone mentioned the title, that she’d laugh if she saw the poster (which was some altered still from their fight from earlier).

Sitting back, Anna settled in to enjoy the rest of the movie. And if she was really just enjoying Elsa and everything about Elsa that made anything they did together into something magical... that was okay too.

Anna refused to feel dumb about the popcorn thing.

It wasn’t something important-with-a-capital-I or anything, but... it was a special memory to join her growing catalogue of special dating moments between her and Elsa. There could be nothing wrong about that, nothing dumb or something to shame herself about.

They held hands through the end of the credits, and Anna couldn’t have been happier.

*

Elsa glanced at the living room clock. She frowned. “Don’t I need to drive you to riding practice?”

Anna shook her head as she stood up and stretched. “Not today,” she said. “You seemed really into your cross-stitching, so I sent Mulan a text and asked her to pick me up on her way.”

“You know I don’t mind driving you, right?” Elsa set her cross-stitching project aside. “It’s really not a hassle or anything.”

Smiling, Anna walked over and ruffled Elsa’s hair. “I know you don’t mind, but it’s just really nice to see you getting back into your hobbies. That and this is a rare sight: The elusive Elsa, sitting at home and somehow not doing homework.” Anna crouched and pretended to be holding a camera. “Crikey,” she said, “We didn’t think it was possible, but here she is folks!”

“Anna.” Elsa rolled her eyes.

“Ain’t she a beaut!” Anna pretended to snap another picture, clicking to imitate the shutter noise.

Elsa snorted. “You’re ridiculous, you know that right.”

Popping up to her feet, Anna winked. “I’m aware.”

Elsa sighed, but it wasn’t a bad, depressed kind of sigh. More like something out of exasperation or fondness. Anna much preferred those. “Well as long as you know,” Elsa said. A pause, and she looked a bit thoughtful. Maybe just a bit sad. “Is it really so strange?” she asked.

“Is what strange?” Anna asked.

Gesturing around the room and brushing her cross-stitching, Elsa answered, “This.”

Anna squinted. “You relaxing at home, pursuing a hobby that isn’t explicitly competitive and extremely stressful?”

A beat. Elsa looked as though she was about to object, then shrugged. “I wouldn’t have phrased it quite like that, but... yes. That. This. Is this really so strange?”

“Yes,” Anna answered flatly. Elsa’s face fell and Anna winced. “Not like... strange as in bad,” she said. “Strange as in... It’s not the norm. It’s so unusual and it makes me so sad that it’s not normal, to see you just... having fun, enjoying yourself, being relaxed at home.”

Elsa glanced out the window. “I... I can see why you might find the current situation remarkable then,” she said at length.

Anna’s phone beeped. She pulled it out and read Mulan’s text:

At red light one block down. Almost there.

“Is Mulan here?” Elsa glanced out the window.

“Almost.” Anna sighed. “I’m sorry I seem to have gotten you down. I just... since I arrived here, you’ve practically been defined by how insanely busy you are. It’s just... it’s so nice to see you slow down a bit, to see you just chilling out and being happy.”

Elsa glanced around for a moment. Idunn was out of the house and Adgar was taking a nap upstairs. “I’ve been plenty happy lately,” Elsa said, a smile tugging at her lips. “Especially with you.”

Anna blushed. “That’s super sweet and I’ve been really happy with you too, but... I don’t know. Seeing you just sitting there, finishing up this years-old cross-stitching thing, it’s nice in a different way. It makes me glad for you just as Elsa, not as my girlfriend or whatever. Because you should have times that you’re happy that are completely independant from me. You should be happy just... whenever.” Reluctant to leave, but not wanting to keep Mulan waiting, Anna moved into the front hall and started putting on her coat.

A few steps behind, Elsa leaned against the wall and watched her a moment. “That’s why you texted Mulan? Instead of having me drive you?”

“Yeah, basically?” Anna tugged her boots on and shrugged when she could straighten up again. “I just... I love doing short drives with you. We can just be ourselves, but, today, you were just sitting there, being quietly happy and yeah I was sitting with you but I wasn’t the reason you were happy and... it seemed good. It looked like you were having fun and by god, if someone deserves to just have an afternoon free of homework to sit and cross-stitch an ice castle, it’s you, Elsa.”

Outside, a horn honked.

Elsa crossed the foyer and swept Anna into a tight hug. “Then how about you go riding and I’ll cross-stitch and we can both just do our own thing this afternoon.” She pulled back. “And you can tell me all about riding after dinner.”

Anna planted a quick kiss on Elsa’s cheek before opening the door. “Only if you show me how that castle is coming along!”

“Deal.”

Elsa’s smile lingered in Anna’s mind as she shut the front door behind her.

“You look happy,” Mulan remarked when Anna got in her car, a beat-up green jeep that was occasionally called into service to tow a small horse trailer.

Anna couldn’t help smiling even wider. “I am happy, actually,” she said.

Mulan waited a beat before pulling away from the curb. “Gonna leave it at that?”

“Do I need a reason to be happy?” Anna buckled her seatbelt and relaxed back into the seat.

“No, you don’t.” They started driving down the familiar roads to Mulan’s family stables. Two streetlights down, Mulan cleared her throat. “So. Who’s the girl?”

Anna blinked. “What.”

“Oh, not a girl this time? Are they somewhere else on the gender spectrum?” Mulan’s tone wasn’t at all teasing, simply curious.

“There’s no ‘who’ to be anywhere on the spectrum,” Anna sputtered, feeling like her words were barely coherent. “I’m not seeing anyone right now.”

Mulan paused, glancing away from the road back toward Anna for a moment. She tilted her head. “Are you sure?”

“What kind of question is that?” Anna asked, hoping she sounded more confused than defensive. “Of course I’m sure I’m not seeing anyone.”

Silent for a few moments longer, Mulan grimaced slightly. “I mean... it’s you, Anna. I didn’t mean any offense, but, if you’ll recall, you and I basically started dating on accident last year. My question wasn’t entirely unfounded.”

Anna facepalmed. “Of course I haven’t forgotten that. I’m not good at that sort of thing, but I really don’t have someone new to tell you about.” A pause. Anna narrowed her eyes. “Really, Mulan.”

The other girl nodded. “Alright, Anna.”

They eventually drifted toward talking about horses for the rest of the drive to the stables, but Anna couldn’t quite calm her nervousness. Mulan was her best friend, probably. She’d certainly been Anna’s first friend after the move. And sure, they were ex’s, but they hadn’t stopped being friends because of it.

Mulan knew Anna’s face well enough to recognize the way she smiled when she liked someone. Conversely, Anna knew Mulan’s face well enough to recognize when the other girl didn’t believe her.

After parking the car, Mulan grabbed Anna’s wrist before she could hop out. “Hey, Anna,” she said.

Reluctantly, Anna glanced over. She hated lying to her friends. “Yeah?” she asked.

Mulan just smiled. “I won’t say anything,” she said.

Relief flooded Anna’s expression before she could stop herself. She tried anyway and ended up making a face that felt more neurotic than anything else. Anna cleared her throat and adopted a neutral expression, or as close as she was probably going to get to one. “There’s nothing to say anything about,” she said. “But thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Mulan said, letting go of Anna’s arm before jumping out of the car. “Just let me know if I need to beat anyone up for you.”

Anna laughed. “Was Phillip not enough? Doesn’t Aurora not have some extra ex-boyfriends or something?”

“I’m trying to mix it up,” Mulan said with a shrug. “I can promise you she’s not seeing anyone but me, so I figured I’d offer my services to an ex.”

Grinning, Anna followed her into the barn and just shook her head. Her anxiety died down as she fell into her usual routine with the horses. If she trusted any of her friends to remain discreet about sort-of knowing, it was Mulan. The other girl could brag with as much bravado as any guy Anna knew, but she was totally a softy, beyond all that, in addition to being a riding partner who could more than rival Anna on horseback.

By the time Anna got home (sweaty and exhausted) that evening and Elsa asked how riding had gone, the earlier conversation with Mulan had completely slipped her mind.

*

“I have something for you, actually,” Anna said, clearing her throat.

Elsa blinked, looking around the park. “You do?” she asked.

Anna laughed. “It’s not a huge box or something.” Even in the cold, her palms felt sweaty. “I just figured, since we don’t need to go on so many physical therapy walks anymore, I would take this one as an opportunity to give you a thing.” Anna gestured to a bench a few steps ahead. “Would you like to sit down?”

“Sure.” Elsa seemed pleasantly surprised, although Anna could detect a slight tremor of anxiety in the tightness around her eyes.

She sat down next to Elsa and put an arm over her shoulders until Elsa loosened them a bit. “It’s nothing bad,” Anna promised. “Nothing stressful. I’m sorry it’s a bit of a surprise.” Elsa tended to be more anxious with surprises. Anna awkwardly rubbed the back of her head. “I actually got this for you, originally, as a Christmas present. It didn’t seem quite right then, so I held off.”

Elsa nodded. “Okay, that... that makes me feel a lot better, actually.” She swept her bangs back from her face, relieved. “I had this moment of complete panic because I know that this weekend is kind of our one-month anniversary, but I didn’t think you’d have a present for me, so I didn’t have one for you so.” Cutting herself off, Elsa took a deep breath and straightened up. “But okay. Your present didn’t seem right then but it seems right now, I’m assuming. Okay.” She smiled, self-conscious but so fond that Anna couldn’t help but smile back.

“I can’t believe it’s only been a month. It feels like it’s been so much longer. I can hardly imagine being with you and us not fitting like this.” Anna reached in her pocket to get the locket before remembering that, in nervousness, she’d slipped it out of the box to hold it. Fiddling in her pocket to put the locket back into the box, Anna couldn’t quite manage it. “Um, one moment,” she said, turning away from Elsa and pulling it out of her pocket entirely to put everything back in place with two hands.

“Having some trouble?” Elsa asked, humor lilting her voice.

“Sorry, just a moment,” Anna said, finally getting the jewelry case to snap shut again. “Okay, here you go.” She turned back toward Elsa and proffered the black case.

Elsa’s eyes went wide, flickering between the gift to Anna and back again. She extended a delicate hand to take it, then pulled it toward her slowly. Holding it for a beat, Anna was starting to die from the anticipation when Elsa finally opened it, revealing the white gold snowflake that decorated the front of the locket.

“Oh, Anna,” she whispered, taking the pendant out of the box. “It’s beautiful.”

“Open it.” Anna whispered back.

Elsa blinked, turning the pendant on its side. “Open it?” Her thumbnail ran along the locket’s seam for a moment before she popped it open. “Oh!” Elsa leaned closer and Anna watched her expression soften as she took in the tiny picture of the two of them. When she looked up and met Anna’s gaze, her eyes were a bit watery. “Thank you so much,” she said, flinging herself forward into Anna’s arms.

Anna barely caught her, they nearly fell off the bench, and Elsa got the locket caught on Anna’s hair for a minute because of it, but if they’d ever had a more perfect hug, Anna couldn’t name it.

Chapter Text

Anna had never paid too much attention to the Olympics with her mother, especially not the winter games. By the second weekend in February, she felt as though she’d joined a family who had recently and abruptly stopped celebrating a previously-cherished holiday. The hyper-awareness paired oddly with the complete topical lockdown on anything Olympics-related.

Any attempts to bring up the subject, even in the most casual, nonthreatening manner, resulted in glares and “let’s not talk about that now” from Adgar or Idunn. Then they’d look at Elsa with great concern and Anna would backtrack off of the subject.

Bringing it up with Elsa in private went a little better, although the most progress she made was a five minute conversation about a German girl named Snow that Elsa apparently knew from the competition circuit. Anna was able to confirm that Elsa was checking scores (and watching footage, although she didn’t say that) on her computer before the other girl looked away and changed the subject to a particularly tricky bit of cross-stitch she was doing.

So Anna stewed and stewed, wishing she could do something, talk about something, because this wasn’t how it worked at home, at her mother’s home.

Her mother had always been direct. She’d never shied away from difficult conversations or harsh realities. Anna was the product of an affair with a married man and, for as long as she could remember, she’d never not known that. Even when things were painful and hard or awkward, they would just sit and talk about it. With Adgar, Idunn, and Elsa, however, Anna got the sense that the three of them would have mutually and wordlessly agreed to never mention the Olympics for the three-week duration of the event.

And that was just ridiculous, so Anna kept bringing them up anyway.

“There’s this big objection about the last women’s hockey game, US versus Canada. I’m not saying the ref got in the way of that shot, but—”

“So apparently there’s some accusations of cheating in this curling scandal—”

“Is it just me, or are snowboarders all really attra—”

“In the figure ska—”

“Anna!” Adgar interrupted that last attempt, making the silverware clatter with his fist on the table. “That is enough.”

Idunn shot him a look and they had a silent exchange at the dinner table for a few long moments before Idunn cleared her throat. “Anna, could we see you after dinner? In our room?”

Anna’s mouth fell open. She blinked. She honestly wasn’t sure she’d ever been invited up to their room before. Recalling herself after a moment, she nodded. “Yes, that’s fine,” she said.

The remainder of dinner passed in alternating bouts of silence and forced conversation about politics that somehow managed to avoid any of the olympic’s political implications.

After dinner, Anna took extra time with the dishes, wondering if she could figure out a way to stay there, rinsing plates forever, and somehow avoid going up the stairs. Unable to quite manage the trick, she balefully shut the dishwasher and started making her way to the second floor. Reaching the landing, she could see that Elsa was doing her homework in her own room from the light under her doors. Nobody was where they should have been. Elsa in her own room and Anna’s feet carrying her to Adgar and Idunn’s bedroom door, farther down the hall. She hesitated a moment, wondering if she could stay forever in this one instead, before forcing herself to knock.

A beat later, she heard Idunn call, “Come in, Anna.”

Opening the door, Anna couldn’t help but glance around, taking in the space anew. She’d certainly seen the room before, when Elsa gave her the tour of the house and in glances thereafter since Adgar and Idunn left the door open during the day. Walking inside now, however, she was finally able to appreciate how decidedly in-character the space was for her guardians.

In the center, a king-size master bed dominated the room with lovely blue sheets. A picturesque trunk sat at the foot of the bed, giving off the aura of a restored heirloom piece, possibly from Adgar’s grandparents? To the right of the doorway was a long wall with a rather large dresser (which matched the headboard) and the entrance to the master bathroom. A wall of windows and a sitting area dominated the space to the left. Personally, sitting areas in bedrooms seemed excessive to Anna, a little ridiculous because seriously who just sits in nice armchairs by a picturesque bay window and sips tea after dinner?

Adgar and Idunn, apparently. “Come have a seat, Anna,” Adgar said, voice so mild in comparison to earlier. He took a drink from his mug and set it down on the table between his and Idunn’s armchairs.

“Alright.” Anna shut the door behind her and walked over to the loveseat opposite the chairs, wishing she had some prop to hold, like tea, that would give her something to do with her hands. As it was, she fidgeted a bit with her peasant skirt, trying to get it to lie neatly as she settled herself into the armchair. After pulling her legs up beside her, however, it occurred to her that Adgar and Idunn were sitting perfectly upright, the latter with politely crossed ankles.

It felt too late to change her posture, however, so Anna just committed to it for the duration of the conversation. “What did you want to talk with me about?” she said.

Idunn glanced at Adgar, then sighed. “You clearly have a different perspective and opinion than us on the matter of the Olympics,” she said, getting right to the point in a way that Anna appreciated. “We wanted to talk to you because, no matter our differences, we are united in how we all care deeply for Elsa.”

Anna nodded. “Absolutely,” she said.

“You’ve been bringing the topic up repeatedly,” Idunn continued. “And we’ve been coming into conflict on that front because Adgar and I have been pointedly not broaching the subject at all.” She nodded to her husband, who cleared his throat before continuing.

“You’re a very bright girl, Anna,” he said, “and you don’t do things for no reason. So, instead of butting heads on the matter, over and over, we, er, thought it would be better to talk to you and hear out your reasons. We have concern for Elsa in common, although our methods are differing.”

Anna was finding it hard to keep looking at them and decided the window was more interesting by far instead. “It just seems ridiculous to pretend something stressful just doesn’t exist,” she said. Feeling an edge creep into her voice, she added, “haven’t you done more than enough hiding hard topics and difficult subjects over the years?” Adgar and Idunn stiffened at the jibe and Anna didn’t even feel a little bit bad about it. She crossed her arms, waiting for an answer.

Idunn spoke first. “In this case,” she said, emphasizing ‘this’ rather strongly, “we thought it would be best to try and set the event aside. We’re not pretending it doesn’t exist or hiding it, but to invite thoughts about it, and therefore stress, seems as though it would bring unnecessary complications to Elsa’s life. If she’s not thinking about it at a given moment, I see no need to introduce the topic.”

“That’s reasonable,” Anna said, “and I’m not trying to say we should talk about it, like, all the time. It’s just.... it’s almost more conspicuous, I think, in trying to exterminate the topic entirely.” She shrugged. “I can promise you she’s already thinking about it plenty, but if you guys keep making a big deal about it, that’ll just emphasize that it should be a stressful, big-deal thing to her instead of just a thing.” Anna paused and a smile twitched at her lips. “Fear of the name only increases fear of the thing itself,” she said, sending a mental thank-you to the Harry Potter books for the line.

Adgar nodded sagely. “That’s very wise,” he said. Anna nearly cackled. From Idunn’s sharp look at her husband, Anna wasn’t the only one who knew where the line was from.

“In any case,” Idunn said, an edge to her voice, “Our concern is that skating has been a fantastically stressful part of Elsa’s life. Between that and her academics, it seems like tempting fate to bring it up and potentially cause more anxiety for her.”

Anna squinted at her a moment. “Elsa is going to be stressed no matter what,” she said. “She’s like... always anxious. I’m 90% certain she has an anxiety disorder, actually. She would be stressed if you sent her to Hawaii for the duration of the Olympics. That’s just who she is. She’s Elsa.” Adgar and Idunn looked at her a little blankly, as though they’d never differentiated between Elsa’s situational anxiety and her general anxiety before. Anna huffed, crossing her arms. “I just think that if we’re supposed to be helping her out, that it would be more helpful to stop pretending, to stop adding this other weird stress layer of taboo to the topic.”

Anna tugged on one of her braids. “We can’t support her directly if we can’t even say what we’re supporting her about. If we just say ‘hey this is a really stressful time for you and that’s legit understandable, so let’s take it easy and make your favorite food for dinner’ then we can acknowledge and normalize the fact that, although Elsa is anxious all the friggin time, that it’s okay for her to be extra anxious about the Olympics, that we’re here to help her through that.” Anna could tell that Idunn and Adgar wanted to speak, so she tried to wrap up quickly. “Blatant reminders might hurt at first, but it opens the door for unmitigated support, which I think would be more helpful than playing pretend-the-Olympics-don’t-exist.”

Despite looking as though they were about to interrupt her by the very end, neither Adgar nor Idunn spoke for several long moments after Anna finished her rant. Her palms felt sweaty and she pressed them flat against her skirt, trying at least not to look like she was wiping them on her clothes.

“I don’t believe we’ve ever considered Elsa’s anxiety to be internally-sourced, as opposed to being a product of her environment,” Adgar said at length. “Your hypothesis is concerning and disturbing, because of course we don’t want her to be unnecessarily stressed, but,” and here he looked at Idunn, who nodded at him. “But right now, we want to stay on-topic. Certainly, the Olympics are not her only source of external stress right now.... but please rest assured that we will talk to Elsa about the possibility of general anxiety later.”

“For now, in regards to the Olympics... I think your approach has a great deal of merit,” Idunn said. “As it is, you’ve brought it up enough that our strategy is basically moot at this point. Rather than pursue a failed avenue of possibility any further, I think it would be best for us to attempt yours.” She smiled and Anna felt her heart warm just a little because, out of anybody, Idunn didn’t have any reasons to just agree with Anna. If she did so, it was because Anna’s ideas had their own merit.

Adgar smiled and Anna couldn’t help but wonder if he did it because he felt guilty about her. But when he said, “Let’s start coming up with some ideas to support Elsa then,” she found she couldn’t be upset with him for long. She knew that his love for Elsa, at least, was genuine.

“I can call up some of her friends,” Anna said, “they know she’s stressed, but I think everyone’s caught in the same awkward middle ground as we are, between wanting to talk to her about it and not wanting to upset her. I can prompt them to plan something on the weekend, make some plans or something.”

Idunn nodded. “That seems prudent. We’re going grocery shopping tomorrow, so we can pick up the ingredients for some of Elsa’s favorite foods.”

“She’s been on a Norwegian kick lately,” Anna said, unable to keep herself from smiling as she thought about their first date.

Adgar grinned. “We could put together a whole traditional Norwegian dinner!” he said. “I still have my grandmother’s recipe box.”

“That sounds great,” Idunn said. “What if we made it a surprise?”

Anna frowned. “Like a party?”

“No, just like a... a surprise extra-special Sunday family dinner,” Adgar said. “I’ve been wanting to do something like this for a while, too.”

“How are you going to make it a surprise?” Anna asked, a little disconcerted with how enthused Adgar was getting about the idea.

Idunn tilted her head and drank some of her tea, pondering something. She turned to Anna. “If we plan it for next weekend, could you come up with an excuse to keep Elsa out of the house for a few hours on Sunday? Maybe suggest a day-trip to somewhere nearby?”

Two emotions struck Anna simultaneously and, in an attempt to keep her expression reasonable looking, she mostly just opened her mouth and squinted at Idunn. On the one hand, Anna would love to help with anything that would help Elsa. She’d probably enjoy the surprise Norwegian dinner and Anna happened to have a list of places in nearby towns that she thought could be fun for her and Elsa to visit. On the other hand, it was one thing to sneak around Adgar and Idunn to take their daughter on a date, and it was another thing entirely to have them basically tell her to take Elsa on a date.

Adgar read hesitance in her expression and frowned. “Did you have plans with friends that weekend?”

For a moment, Anna debated lying and inventing something that Mulan wanted to do. But then she realized she was only having to lie about plans because she’d been blowing her friends off to hang out for weeks due to her secret girlfriend thing. “No,” she said, after a long beat. She tried to pass it off as having needed to think about it to remember.

“You don’t need to worry about cost, Anna,” Idunn said. “We’ll give you some money to cover whatever you decide to do. We just need you to take Elsa out and have some fun, get her mind off of things and bring her back in time for dinner.”

Anna nodded, as though that made it better, but the idea of Adgar and Idunn basically paying her to take their daughter on an incestuous date just made everything worse.

But at the same time... free date and no need to lie to her guardians about it. They’d sanctioned her to go! They wanted her to make Elsa happy and keep her busy. What better way for Anna to do so than to take Elsa out on a lovely Sunday afternoon date?

“Sounds like a plan,” she said, managing a smile. “But, um, I think we should still talk to her about the Olympics, just so she knows that we’re, you know, here for her.” A beat later, the ‘we’ she’d said seemed to come back and choke her. Anna coughed to clear her throat. “By ‘we,’ I meant that you two should probably talk to her. I kind of figured I’d tell her I was there on my own.”

“That seems reasonable,” Adgar said hurriedly before turning to Idunn. “What if we went to talk to her tonight, dear?”

“I think that could work,” Idunn replied, taking a sip of her tea. Adgar, seemed to have forgotten his on the table. “I think letting her know about our support would be best done sooner rather than later.”

Clearing her throat for a moment, Anna added, “I figured I’d talk to her over homework time sometime later this week. That’s probably the most natural time for that conversation.”

Her guardians nodded and Anna, briefly, got the weird sense that this conversation had temporarily absorbed her into the ranks of Elsa’s parental unit. It felt strange and wrong to talk about Elsa like this, as if she wasn’t in the room just down the hall, doing her homework and well aware that they were all talking about her.

If Anna had her way, she would have just been able to talk to Elsa directly. She’d have brought the Olympics up a few times and had natural, normal conversations about it to gauge how Elsa was feeling, then pulled out the serious ‘I just want you to know I’m here for you’ bits once she figured out a good time for it.

But no. Instead, they were sitting here talking strategy like Elsa wasn’t seventeen, wasn’t almost an adult who deserved to be spoken to, not spoken of. And yeah, she was a severely stressed seventeen-year-old going through the fallout of some major life trauma and she potentially had an anxiety disorder, but still. Talking about her from down the hall just felt... wrong.

Anna stood up. “I’m gonna go to my room now,” she said, not caring that she sounded brusque or that Adgar and Idunn wouldn’t know where her change in demeanor came from. “Good luck with your talk and good night.”

Awkward, delayed ‘good nights’ followed her as she walked out of the master bedroom door. She stormed into her empty room and hated that she hadn’t just gone upstairs with Elsa. Normally, they’d be doing homework together, talking and laughing and complaining about their teachers.

Instead, Anna pretended doing her trig homework was a valid method of expressing anger and hate-solved problems until she felt tired enough to fall asleep without another thought.

*

She woke to lips on her cheek and an urgent whisper.

“Anna, Anna, wake up.”

Blinking, Anna yawned and tried to sit up before she felt hands on her shoulders. She opened her eyes to see Elsa, who wasn’t pushing her down, but leaning over her.

“Elsa?” Anna couldn’t see her alarm clock with Elsa in the way, but she could feel in her body that she was being roused earlier than usual.

“Adgar forgot something and called the house to have Idunn bring it out to him at the curb,” Elsa explained quickly. “She just walked out to wait for him to bring the car back around, so she’s out of the house.”

Anna blinked. “What. Okay.” She rubbed her eyes, trying to make sense of Elsa’s excitement over the topic.

Elsa huffed. Apparently Anna wasn’t making sense of things fast enough. “I mean, they’re both out of the house, just for a couple minutes.”

Unable to process whatever it was Elsa kept getting at, Anna yawned again. “Okay?”

Then Elsa’s shoulders slumped and Anna watched her face shift from urgency to self-consciousness. “I... I was just wondering if I could get a kiss,” she said. “Just real quick while Idunn is out."

In an instant, understanding and wakefulness came to Anna simultaneously. She scrambled to sit up, grabbing Elsa’s arm as she did so. “Of course,” she breathed, pulling her girlfriend close for a still-sleepy, kinda-clumsy kiss.

They pressed their lips together with none of the usual passion. Anna’s lips felt gummy and her mouth felt dry since she’d just woken up. Elsa’s tongue didn’t seek hers out and her hands didn’t knot in Anna’s hair. She just pulled back every few moments so that she could press her lips against Anna’s again, seeking some sort of comfort. Anna tried to respond with as much comfort as she could in a simple kiss, rubbing Elsa’s back as she did so.

They broke apart quietly when the door slammed downstairs. Anna had started becoming inordinately attuned to the sound, taking note of it whenever she heard it (regardless of whether she was kissing Elsa at the time or not.)

Before Elsa could pull farther back, Anna tightened her grip on the other girl’s arm and tugged her closer again. “Wait, Elsa.”

Elsa paused. “What is it?”

Anna’s mind still felt so sluggish, but she tried to force herself into coherence anyway. “You know, um, you know that I’m here for you, right?” Her mind meandered, more than raced, through her memories of last night’s conversation with Adgar and Idunn. This wasn’t the timing she’d thought to use, but it seemed right. “You know that, um, with the Olympics, that I know you’re anxious but I’m here, right? That I’m here to support you and try and help as best I can?”

The corners of Elsa’s mouth tightened at the word ‘Olympics,’ but Anna couldn’t help but smile when that tightness dissolved into kindness and relief when Anna finished talking. “Oh Anna,” Elsa breathed. “I already knew that.” She smiled self-consciously. “Why do you think I burst into your room at five-thirty in the morning, asking for a kiss?”

“Five-thirty?” Anna squinted when Elsa said the time, glancing at the darkened windows. “And you mean that wasn’t because I’m great and you just had to ask?” After a beat, Anna realized she probably sounded insensitive and added, “Wait, did you want to talk about something?”

“It’s always a little bit of you’re just great,” Elsa admitted. “But I didn’t need to talk about anything. I just.... I just needed a good moment this morning. I had a dream about skating again and woke up feeling terrible. I just wanted a nice moment before I started my day. That’s all.” She stood up. “Thank you, Anna,” she said.

Outside the room, Anna heard Idunn make her way up the stairs. Elsa turned at the sound too and called, overly-loud, “Come on, Anna, get up or I’ll make you take the bus!”

“Oh no, not that.” Anna normally would have gotten more into the exchange, but she found she couldn’t quite manage it as she watched Elsa walk out of her room to get ready for the day.

*

“An arcade?” Elsa blinked owlishly at the building, glancing at it several times as she parked.

“Mmmhmm!” Anna leaned back in her seat. “This is the only one within like 100 miles.”

Elsa finished parking and laughed. “I thought these things went defunct once everybody got computers.”

“Hey!” Anna crossed her arms before uncrossing them to get out of the car. “My mom used to take me to arcades sometimes. They’re super fun, and it’ll be like a blast from the 90s.”

“Or maybe the 80s,” Elsa added, getting out on her side. Despite the teasing, however, her tone softened. “Let’s see what it’s all about.”

The exterior, a somewhat grungy building that clearly needed a powerwash, didn’t look like much. Anna bit her lip as she walked inside and squinted, trying to adjust to the dim lighting. After a moment, however, her shoulders relaxed and she smiled. She squeezed Elsa’s hand as she took in the array of neon and flashing lights that provided most of the lighting and all of the atmosphere.

“This is gonna be great,” Anna said, giving Elsa’s hand a squeeze before heading over to the counter. “I’m gonna get some tokens,” she called over her shoulder.

“Okay...” Elsa said.

Anna ignored the mildly skeptical tone and focused on the attendant’s wide eyes when she forked over a handful of 20s to change into tokens. Adgar and Idunn had said they’d pay for anything and Anna was already taking their daughter on a date, so she might as well use the money to make it a good one.

“Come on!” Anna said, practically bouncing  as she hurried back over to Elsa. “Let’s see what you’re good at.”

Elsa proved fairly terrible at skee-ball, actually. Anna doubled her score in their first game and tried to resist cheering her own victory too much. In the middle of their second game, however, the air hockey table had opened up. Anna caught Elsa glancing at it and smiled.

“You know,” she said, “I used to be pretty good at air hockey.”

“Oh?” Elsa rolled her ball up the ramp for 20 points. “I like it much better than ice hockey if I’m entirely honest.”

“You like most things better than hockey,” Anna commented dryly, taking 50 points and securing her second victory.

Elsa rolled her eyes. “Well, yes. But still.” She smiled. “Want to give it a shot?”

“Let’s do it!” Anna smirked, but couldn’t help half-running over and probably ruining the competitive edge she was going for. “You’re going down easy.” Popping a few tokens into the machine, she grabbed the puck as Elsa got settled in on the other side.

The blacklight and glowing board gave Elsa’s pale hair an ethereal, violet sheen. She took the paddle in one hand and smirked right back. “We’ll see,” she said.

Anna took the first point without too much trouble, but that’s when Elsa’s brow furrowed and she started moving faster. The first game drew itself out, point by point, until Anna finally took the victory after an extended volley.

“Rematch!” Elsa called, “Let’s do it again!”

“You sure?” Anna said, moving to add the tokens for another game. “We could always go play some games separately if you dislike losing all the time.” She winked, but knew the trash talk was rather hollow. Elsa had very nearly won that match, getting more and more intense at the end of it.

Elsa pushed her sleeves up to her elbows. “I’m sure.”

Elsa took the second match, then the third.

Anna scowled as she put in the coins for a fourth game. “Are air hockey and ice skating related or something?” she grumbled.

A shrug. Elsa looked entirely too smug for her own good. “It’s a big white space that things glide across,” she said. “They could be related.”

Anna won the fourth game. She straightened up from leaning over the air hockey table, wiping her arm across her forehead. “Wow,” she said, watching Elsa across the table. “You really get into this don’t you?”

Running a hand through her hair, Elsa shrugged. “I’m kind of a competitive person?” she offered.

“Apparently,” Anna said, neutral. Not bothering to ask if they wanted a fifth game, Anna checked to make sure nobody was obviously waiting for them to be done before she deposited the tokens for their next match. She typically spent her time with Elsa in a collaborative fashion, doing homework together or supporting one another. Since Elsa’s schedule had reached a more sane level, they’d done more hanging out, but they’d never really needed to compete against one another. Anna certainly didn’t try to compete for parental attention, disliking contests she knew she’d lose.

The machine came to life as Anna set the puck on the table. She felt a bit self-conscious, being kind of sweaty, but Elsa was clearly in a similar state across from her. The set of Elsa’s eyebrows and the pull of her smile to one side made Anna smile back at her. “You ready?” she asked.

Elsa just raised one eyebrow, back into her determined mode, and Anna felt a shiver run up her spine. Elsa was kind of scary while simultaneously extra attractive when she was being competitive.

Anna chalked her subsequent loss to being distracted and decided to back down before she fell any farther behind. Even still, it had been a close game. Setting her paddle down, she did a sweeping bow. “I must concede defeat,” she admitted. “You are seriously good at this.”

Elsa’s steps lifted and bounced a bit as she walked over to Anna’s side. “Well you’re not bad yourself,” she said. “What do you want to do next?”

“Ummm...” Anna cast her eyes around the room, eyes bouncing from game to game. “What are you in the mood for?”

Rubbing the back of her neck, Elsa laughed. “Maybe something a little less competitive?” She pulled her braid back over her shoulder. “That was fun, but rather intense.”

“Agreed.” Anna pointed across the room. “We could do one of those dinosaur hunting games?”

Apparently neither of them were very good at hunting dinosaurs, but they did well at spider stomp, pac-man, and a whole pack of other games for the next hour or so. Elsa’s eyes drifted off sometimes, lost in thought and whatever anxieties snuck in and troubled her, but Anna always had a new game to play, drawing her girlfriend back to the present. At some point, the cycle went on hold so they could stop for a small snack.

Yawning, Elsa finished the last bite of her candy bar. “I’m almost ready to go home,” she admitted. “This has been really fun though.”

Discreetly checking her phone to get the time, Anna winced. If they left now, it would be too early. “You sure we can’t do another game or two before we go?” she asked.

“What did you have in mind?” Elsa glanced around.

They’d played most of the games that Anna had always done with her mom before. Anna frowned slightly, trying to think or something that might keep them occupied for a little longer but also wasn’t air hockey (her shoulder had started aching since they’d stopped).

Looking in the far corner, she spotted the DDR machine and smiled. “Hey Elsa,” she said, “could I interest you in a dance?”

Elsa blinked, glancing around as though she was looking for the dance floor she’d somehow missed. “Yes?”

Anna grabbed Elsa’s arm and pulled her across the room. “Great!”

Stopping in front of the machine, Elsa frowned. “I don’t think I’ve ever played before,” she said.

“I think you’ll like it,” Anna said. “You can move your feet pretty fast, if you recall playing spider stomp. Let’s give it a try!”

Stepping tentatively onto the platform, Elsa managed a smile. “I’ll give it a shot,” she said. “But just for one song, okay? I dont’ think I can dance very well.”

One song turned into four, entirely at Elsa’s insistence.

Anna could hardly keep up once Elsa got into it and she blamed her girlfriend entirely. It was hard to focus on the screen when her eyes kept drifting over to watch the look of concentration and enjoyment on Elsa’s face. Any advantage Anna had in doing DDR before was completely negated by how quickly Elsa picked it up, light on her feet with exceptional coordination. Anna felt sluggish, like she was dancing in mud by comparison.

Granted, the way she kept glancing over at Elsa probably wasn’t helping either.

She just hadn’t seen Elsa move in such a precise, coordinated way since, well, since watching her figure skate, that last morning practice the day before her last competition. It made sense that Elsa would pick it up so quickly, her feet moving right along with the arrows. Being able to watch Elsa having fun was, Anna decided, probably her favorite thing in the whole damn world.

Trying to make up for lost points, she focused her attention back on her own screen. Unlike with air hockey, the fun wasn’t rooted in competition (not that there was anything wrong with that) but in exhilaration. They laughed and argued about song choices and occasionally managed to swap high fives in the middle of the choruses. By the end of the fourth song, the two of them practically collapsed, laughing together as they turned around to discover they’d gathered up a small crowd of children who looked to be about eight or so.

“You guys are really good,” said one of the little girls solemnly.

Elsa smiled broadly. “Well you should give it a try,” she said. “I bet you could be really good too.”

Anna fished the tickets they’d earned from her back pocket. “And here you go,” she said, quickly dividing the stash into several sections and handing them out. “Go buy yourselves something nice.” Elsa grabbed her arm, towing them outside before the kids could react.

“Really? ‘Go buy yourselves something nice’?” Since the Olympics had started, a pair of creases had marked the corners of Elsa’s eyes. Walking out and blinking into the sunlight outside the arcade, however, Anna smiled to see that they’d temporarily vanished.

She just grinned. “I’ve always wanted to say that,” she confessed. “And if I never get the chance again, I figured: why not now?” Anna checked her phone for the time. They would arrive a bit early, but not too badly now.

“Fair enough,” Elsa said, clicking the unlock button for her car. “Could you get something out of the back seat for me?”

Anna nodded, opening the back door. “Sure,” she said, jumping in. “What is it?”

Elsa opened the other back door. “You’ll need to close the door on your side to find it.”

“What?” Anna did so after a beat, checking the pocket in the side of the door. She turned when she heard the other door close and found herself face-to-face with Elsa, whose relaxed expression had turned into something a little more... intense.

“You’re incredible.” Elsa’s voice wasn’t quite a whisper, but it also wasn’t her normal tone either. She slipped a hand behind Anna’s neck, threading fingers under her braid.

“I, uh, you.” Anna cleared her throat, licking her lips before she could help herself. “Thank you. You... you should have seen yourself though. You seriously haven’t done DDR before?”

Elsa hummed for a moment. “No, but... that’s not what I mean. You... you just arranged this date and you keep doing this thing where you bring me out to something new and I’m a little hesitant at first, I have this huge moment of doubt before I decide to go for it, to trust you and see what comes of it.” Elsa pressed a soft kiss against Anna’s cheek. “And whenever I do, you always make it magical somehow. You just make me so happy, make me feel so loved and important and it all makes me want to kiss you over and over forever.”

Her hand tightened a bit in Anna’s hair. Their faces had drawn incredibly close. Distantly, Anna recalled that they’d parked somewhat far from the arcade entrance. “Forever might have some scheduling conflicts,” she managed. “But, um, you could kiss me right now.”

So Elsa did, pressing their lips together with a sudden insistence that had Anna fumbling for a decent position. Elsa didn’t exactly have a large car, but the cramped quarters just seemed to keep them closer and pressed together in ways that made Anna’s head spin. The car seemed to echo with their mingled breathing and Elsa’s gasps when Anna slipped a hand under the front of her shirt.

Anna completely forgot their schedule to keep, caught up in the softness of Elsa’s skin, until they tried to reposition about ten minutes later. Her phone pressed against her hip and it dimly, then harshly, occurred to her that she’d used her phone to check the time and she’d checked the time because Adgar and Idunn had told her to get Elsa back in time for their special surprise dinner.

“Dammit.” Anna’s curse turned into a gasp when Elsa bit her neck gently and laughed against a handful of freckles that dotted her collarbones. “We, um. Elsa? Wait, we need to, um, g-go...” She moved her hands to Elsa’s shoulders and, drawing on some hidden reserve of self control, pushed her away. Elsa moved back immediately, eyes clouded and lips swollen.

“Go?” Elsa blinked slowly. Her clumsy hands mirrored Annas as they straightened out their clothing. “Go where?”

“Home.” Anna checked her phone and cursed again. No texts from Adgar or Idunn, but that’s because they thought Anna and Elsa had left already. “We, um, we need to go home now.” She scrambled out of the back seat and hurried to the front passenger side.

Squinting at her, Elsa nevertheless got out of the car and back into the front seat. She put the key in the ignition, but didn’t turn it. A blush spread across Elsa’s face that somehow distinguished itself from the general flush of her cheeks that lingered from their makeout session. “Did... did I do something to upset you?” Elsa managed, biting her lip for a moment before asking, “Was everything we were doing, was that all okay?”

“Huh? Wha—-Yes, yes absolutely.” Anna ran a hand through her bangs, pushing them back in a gesture she’d picked up from Elsa at some point. “Yes everything we did was, um, amazing. Completely 100% fine. 10/10. Would kiss again.” She smiled and Elsa’s frown softened into a small smile back at her. “Please don’t worry about anything like that,” Anna added. “Just.... we really need to get home now so I would greatly appreciate it forever and ever if you could just start driving us home.”

To her credit, Elsa just said okay, pulled the car out, and waited until they were on the freeway before she cleared her throat. “So, why are we rushing home?”

Anna looked up from her phone and the ‘lost track of time, running a little late’ text she’d sent to Idunn. “Uh.”

Elsa squinted. “I’m just... getting concerned because you’re acting a bit oddly and specifically you’re acting anxious and stressed and. Um.” She took a deep breath and waited until she’d passed a truck before continuing, “I know you said it wasn’t because of us, but it would reassure me if you could give whatever the real reason is? That way I know?”

Unspoken between them was the reason Elsa asked: Because if she didn’t know, she would stress and be anxious about it. Anna sighed. The whole point of the parent/guardian-sponsored date and the surprise dinner was to give Elsa something nice, to reduce her stress and make her happy for an evening. If Anna had to spoil the surprise part in order to shut down another avenue of potential Elsa stress, that’s what had to happen.

Her phone dinged. A text from Idunn: ‘thats fine, us too. grandma recipes complicated. c u soon.’

Something in Anna blanched to see a lawyer texting like that, but her shoulders sagged in relief. “Okay,” she said to Elsa. “Let me explain then.”

*

Elsa put on a beautiful act of being surprised, and it was probably because she covered up any potential lack of surprise with genuine enthusiasm and excitement. Anna gracefully stepped out of the spotlight and allowed Adgar and Idunn to enjoy making Elsa happy.

To her initial awkwardness, however, her guardians insisted on sweeping her up in the whole event as well. Anna had certainly planned on being present during the dinner, but she hadn’t really counted on feeling like she belonged there.

Because... strangely enough, she did. She felt less like the unwanted stepchild and more like Elsa’s girlfriend coming over for dinner. Letting herself indulge in the fantasy, she could appreciate the obvious love and genuine parental affection they gave to Elsa because it wasn’t something missing from her own life in comparison. All three of them loved and cared deeply for Elsa and, that evening, that’s all that mattered.

Well, that and Elsa herself, smiling so broadly that Anna’s heart almost ached.

*

“You know I supported you applying to as many schools as you wanted, but... it’s just so far away.”

Anna generally didn’t mean to eavesdrop. She just had a habit of being in odd places at unexpected times. She typically remembered something she had to do in the middle of doing something else and wound up walking past open doors or passing by people engaged in a deep conversation.

“This really is the school I want most. It has the architecture program I’m looking for.”

She really, really hadn’t meant to overhear Elsa and Idunn in the office, talking about her college decision.

“Yes, but... there are comparable programs on the east coast.”

And she normally wouldn’t have thought too much of it, except that she knew they both thought she’d already left for riding practice. Halfway down the block, Anna had Mulan turn around because she’d forgotten her riding gloves. Halfway up the stairs, she’d heard Idunn’s heavy sigh.

“I... I think I could use some space, after graduation.”

Forcing herself to continue up the stairs, Anna tried not to think about it too much. It wasn’t that she’d let college slip her mind. She’d helped Elsa fill out the damn applications. Granted, everything had been so blurry and stressful that she hardly even remembered where the applications had been for.

Anna snatched her riding gloves off her dresser and sighed. She’d just been doing an A+, honor-roll-quality job of keeping the subject out of mind.

Heading downstairs, Anna couldn’t keep the overheard words from her mind even if she tried.

“—think about Anna though. She’ll miss you so much.”

Anna bit her lip. She already missed Elsa and she hadn’t even mailed her college acceptance letter yet.

“I know... But this is where I need to be.”

Elsa’s voice strengthened on the last few words and Anna borrowed some of that conviction to make herself sneak back out the front door and back on the road to riding practice. Still, part of her wished that she’d asked Elsa to drive her instead.

*

Overall, the joint Idunn-Adgar-Anna operation to support Elsa and cheer her up during the Olympics had shaped up into a resounding success. The high point was, obviously the Sunday date and subsequent special dinner at home, but Anna thought they’d held up quite well.

And if part of her method to make Elsa happy was to steal her for quick kisses whenever their rules permitted she do so, well, Anna was just doing her duty.

Unfortunately, Adgar had a business trip to take over the last weekend, which was how Anna and Idunn found themselves blinking at one another across the dinner table.

“Would that be okay with you guys?” Elsa frowned. “I know you’re concerned for me but... I can handle this and I think I need to do it alone.”

Idunn recovered first, for which Anna was grateful. “Are you certain the closing ceremonies won’t be too... emotional, Elsa?” She reached over and put a hand on Elsa’s shoulder.

Elsa nodded. “What better way to say goodbye?”

“Away from a television showing an extremely emotional ceremony?” Anna’s lips pulled to one side. “Are you... sure? This is already a really intense thing for you...”

“I think this is what I need,” Elsa said. “And I know it will probably hurt and be difficult, but it’s what I want.” She smiled, rubbing the back of her neck. “Not that this journey hasn’t been painful and difficult enough already.”

“Mmmhmm.” Anna hummed at the same time as Idunn. They glanced at one another before turning back to Elsa.

Anna went first this time. “It’s not my place to stop you or whatever. I just wanted to make sure that you’ll be okay and that you’re sure.”

“If this is what you want,” Idunn said, “then we will be distinctly absent while you’re watching.” She cast a glance at Anna, who nodded in agreement. “But we will both be available if you want company or comfort.”

“Absolutely.”

Elsa sighed. “Thank you,” she said.

But, for all that she said she wanted to be alone while watching the closing ceremony, the next evening Elsa texted Anna in the middle of it to say, ‘Idunn wanted you to bring the mail out. don’t forget.’ And Anna just kept blinking at it because she honestly didn’t remember Idunn saying any such thing and, well, if she were taking the mail out, she’d have to walk past the living room, where Elsa was watching the closing ceremony alone.

Staring at the text for a moment, Anna decided to take it at face value. She pulled on some sweatpants over her pajama shorts and grabbed a hoodie before heading downstairs.

Passing by the living room, she glanced only briefly at the ceremony on TV before grabbing the outgoing mail out of the basket. “Hey, Elsa,” she called, pretending everything was normal as she slipped out the front door.

And she didn’t necessarily mean to read the address on the letters when she saw Elsa’s name in the return spot and a California college’s name under the word ‘TO:’

Stopped under the streetlight, freezing in just her hoodie, Anna sighed and put the letters in the mailbox before heading back inside, where at least she could be warmer in her mix of emotions.

Elsa’s shoulders tightened as Anna opened the front door. Anna walked over and put a hand on Elsa’s shoulder. “Idunn didn’t ask me to get the mail, did she.”

Elsa shook her head. “I... There’s so much going on, but I had to catch the early-acceptance deadline and... I wasn’t sure how to tell you.”

“We can talk about it later, Elsa.” Anna pressed a kiss to Elsa’s hair, taking a breath as she did so and enjoying the scent of Elsa’s conditioner before it faded a moment later.

Under her hands, Elsa’s shoulders hitched. Anna realized she’d been crying and bit her lip. She’d been so focused on Elsa’s stress over the Olympics that other potential stressors had slipped her mind entirely. And maybe Elsa should have said something so Anna could have been there more but...

“Sometimes you need to do what you need to do. On your own,” Anna said, trying to do what she wished Elsa had done a year prior when Anna told her about going to summer camp instead of Elsa’s European skating trek. It hurt more, feeling it from the other side, but she was determined to do her best anyway. “Sometimes you need your own space. I... I know it’s not about me. College is about you and what you need.” She glanced up at the screen and sighed. “Watching the closing ceremony is about you and what you need right now.”

Anna swallowed the lump in her throat as Elsa placed her hand on top of Anna’s and whispered, “thank you.”

Anna just kissed her hair before going upstairs, savoring the moment before the scent faded into memory once more. However, the tightness in her throat and the uncomfortable sense that they’d missed something important lingered into the night.

Chapter Text

“Happy birthday dear Anna... Happy birthday to you!” The singers’ voices combined in an unharmonious, but endearing rendition that had Anna grinning by the end of it. She failed to blow out all her candles, actually, because of how widely she was smiling. When she managed to finish them off on her second attempt, everyone applauded.

“Make a wish!” Elsa called from across the table.

It felt odd not to have Elsa standing next to her and, as Anna screwed her eyes shut, she couldn’t think of anything else but that. So she wished she could be beside Elsa, that Elsa could be beside her, always. She opened her eyes again. “Wish submitted for approval!”

Eugene stepped in and offered to cut the cake. Anna smiled as she watched her friends all take a piece after she did (Eugene gave her the largest one). Even if she’d been a bit distant over the past few months, it brought her peace to know that her friends all still cared about her enough to show up for her birthday party.

Adgar and Idunn, in contrast, seemed distinctly conflicted over the affair. Their slices of cake looked like props on plates as the two stood at the corner of the kitchen, generally supervising without really inserting themselves into the festivities. Anna theorized, as she chatted with Kida, that they probably felt awkward about how everyone was going about the cake-eating in the kitchen. Standing up wasn’t exactly the neatest way of going about it, but it would have been worse to eat in the living room, which was painfully formal.

The only person who seemed at-ease with the dichotomy of casual-party and rich-person-house was Aurora, who had come with Mulan. Anna was pretty sure that was because the blonde girl came from an equally formal household. Her parents were friends with Anna’s guardians, so they probably had that stuff in common.

Trying to spend time talking to all her friends relatively equally sent Anna on a loop around the kitchen with her cake. It wasn’t until she’d finished her lap that she realized she had yet to encounter Elsa, who always seemed to end up on the other side of the table from her.

Nobody else seemed to have noticed, but when Anna stopped to chat with Mulan, the other girl gave her an odd look, glancing across the room at Elsa when she asked, “Are you having an alright birthday so far?”

Anna gave an enthusiastic answer, but her friends seemed only partially convinced.

The last thing Anna needed was Mulan starting to pay too much attention to her relationship with Elsa. She cleared her throat and decided a change of topic was in order. “Hey you guys,” she called out, “finish stuffing your faces with cake so we can go do presents!”

It briefly occurred to Anna, amid the cacophony of responses (which ranged from ‘okay’ to ‘but I’m here for the free food!’) that, four years ago, she would have started her address with, ‘Hey y’all’ instead. She sighed, but kept her smile up as she ate the last bite of her cake and started herding people out of the kitchen. Plenty more than her speech patterns had changed since she’d moved north. Even three years ago, she couldn’t have possibly imagined a crowd like this showing up for her birthday.

Even a year ago, she couldn’t have imagined feeling even remotely chill about having her birthday party at Adgar and Idunn’s house, even if it was her home, the place she lived. Change could be good.

As she relocated to the living room, Anna got caught up in conversation with Kida again and managed to lose track of Elsa until she arrived. A quick survey of the room showed that her girlfriend had taken a seat on a full couch, meaning Anna couldn’t sit next to her. Making the best of it, she took a seat on the couch adjacent to Elsa’s, so there was just an accent table between them.

She was about to say something when Adgar cleared his throat. “Anna.” Everyone quieted down to look over. He and Idunn hadn’t been involved much with the party thus far. Nobody, Anna included, really knew how they fit into the event. “I just wanted to say that, since you arrived to our home, we’ve all gone through so many changes and, ah, it wouldn’t be the same without you.”

He paused and seemed to realize that he’d basically just repeated himself. Before Adgar could continue, Idunn cut in. “And we just wanted to say that we’re glad you’re here,” she said gracefully. “You’re part of our family and we wanted to wish you a happy birthday.”

“Your present is waiting for you at the stables,” Adgar said. “And once the party is over we’ll take you out there to see it.” He smiled. “But for now we’ll step out so you kids can have fun. Thank you all for being such good friends to Anna.”

Announcements over, Adgar and Idunn excused themselves as Anna called out her thanks. A brief silence reigned after they left and then everyone laughed a bit, shrugging off the awkwardness to start fighting over what Anna should open her presents in.

Mulan refused to give Anna hints as to what was waiting for her at the stables, but she gave Anna a framed photo of Sitron that she immediately declared would hang on her wall. Eugene gave her a cool purse that was almost a perfect match for his own. Pointing out the similarities resulted in him insisting both bags were satchels.

Eventually getting to Elsa, who hadn’t joined the fighting over what order the presents would go in, Anna smiled broadly when she unwrapped a package of lovely chocolates. When she gave Elsa a hug, the other girl whispered in her ear, “Real present is later.” Before Anna could question her further, she’d pulled out of the hug and encouraged someone else to give Anna her present.

It took monumental effort to not squint at Elsa for the rest of the party, trying to figure out what her ‘real’ present would be.

Thankfully, or maybe not, managing and arranging a Mario Kart tournament between all her friends turned out to be distracting enough. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed them, hadn’t acknowledged that she had maybe been neglecting them a bit since she’d started dating Elsa. To make up for it, she tried to keep things as fun as possible. She felt as though she was almost ignoring Elsa as she did so, but she just wasn’t sure how to fit everything together, how to keep Elsa engaged as she entertained her friends for the next couple hours.

Although it was a lot of fun, Anna was almost glad when the party finished up and she could relax and not worry about balancing social dynamics. Cleaning up didn’t require much of that, thankfully.

Elsa helped her in silence and they fell into a comfortable routine until the house was back to its usual spotless self. With the two of them working together, it didn’t even take an hour to clean up.

“Thank you,” Anna said, shooting Elsa a smile.

“You’re welcome.” Elsa glanced around. “I guess now I can tell you what my real present for you is.” She smiled and winked. “Okay, so I—”

“Anna!”

She turned to see Adgar striding down the stairs with a wide smile. Elsa immediately took a step back and started tidying a table they’d already cleaned. “It’s time to go to the stables,” Adgar continued. “Idunn was going to come along, but she’s not feeling very well. I thought it might be nice if just the two of us went anyway.”

She nodded. “That would be nice.” Turning to Elsa, she said, “I’ll be back soon.”

Elsa nodded. “See you later.” She seemed a bit put out to not have had the chance to tell Anna what her ‘real’ present was, but Anna knew better than to ask her or push the point when Adgar was around.

Instead, she gave Elsa a quick hug before heading out after Adgar, who had already gone to his car with a spring in his step. It was weird, but he always seemed at his most comfortable around her when he had cause to spend a little money on her.

They recapped the party together for the first minute or two of the ride before Adgar cleared his throat and shifted his tone, indicating a subject change. “Anna,” he began, “I wanted to talk to you a bit about your riding and now seems as good a time as any.”

“Makes sense,” Anna said, feeling mild discomfort twist in her stomach. She looked out the window and watched familiar views scroll past.

“You’ve been riding since you were a child, ever since I gave you those lessons for your birthday.” She glanced over and watched Adgar smile fondly at the memories. “And... in all that time, you’ve certainly always enjoyed it, but you’ve never seemed to commit to it as a... as some sort of great competitive passion.”

Anna swallowed the lump in her throat. “Like, uh, Elsa’s skating?”

He nodded. “Exactly. You certainly go to competitions occasionally, but you’ve never been especially intense about it.”

For a moment, Anna wanted to punch him in the face. Of course she’d never been ‘serious’ about her riding. How could she be, when she had no idea what sort of support system, or lack thereof, would be there for her if she did so. Riding was, by nature, an expensive sport. The only way she’d had access to it at all was through him.

And maybe she’d never be an olympian, but she had no idea if she could have been. She’d never had that chance. She’d never brought it up, no, but Adgar had never offered and her mother hadn’t raised her to assume large chunks of money from people.

He was driving and she was more afraid of the car swerving than she was angry enough to punch him, so she just fumed instead and went back to looking out the window.

Adgar, for his part, didn’t seem to notice her momentary flare up. “And I guess I just wanted to say that you don’t have to be intense or serious about it. That, as you go into your junior year of high school and then off to college, that you don’t need to worry about, um, cost.”

Anna turned back to face him. “What?”

He ran his fingers through his hair, adjusting it in a way that reminded her of Elsa. “I just want you to know that, no matter how intense you are or aren’t about riding, that you don’t need to worry about the sport’s cost. If you want to go to a college with a riding program, we’ll pay for your horse’s board and other associated costs.” He sighed and that sounded like Elsa too. “I... am not a good father, Anna. I don’t even think you see me as a fatherly figure, overall. But I do have the ability to provide you my checkbook, if nothing else, to furnish you something that makes you happy.”

Her mouth had dropped open at some point. Anna opened and closed it a few times, trying to find words. It was one thing to know Adgar was a shitty father who compensated by buying her things. It was another thing entirely to hear him say it.

For a moment, the word, ‘Dad’ caught in her throat. She swallowed the lump and moved past it. “That... that’s not something you need to do though,” she managed. “You don’t need to... overcompensate like that.”

He sighed as he flicked his turn signal. “I suppose my perspective is that of a man who knows he is... deficient in some ways. I don’t give you the emotional support that a father should. Frankly, we both know that I never have. With that open before us, I just want you to know that I am here to provide you the monetary support you need.” He paused as he turned the car down the road to the stables. “Both for your hobbies as well as your college education.”

“Okay, but—”

“We may not have a father-daughter relationship,” Adgar cut her off. “But I am your guardian and I am just trying to communicate my support to you as I am able.” He seemed a little flustered that Anna wasn’t accepting it at that. “You... are younger than Elsa, but in many ways you almost seem older. You’re more independent by far. I think, barring the technicalities of food and utilities, you could essentially manage on your own, and you’re only 16.” He parked the car and smiled at her with something resembling pride.

For a moment, Anna would have exchanged all the horses and money in the world to see him look at her like that every day.

“You’re a wonderful young woman,” he continued, “and I want to see you do well. I want to support your success. Not just because you are my child, but because of the person you’re growing up to be.” He stopped and took a breath. Anna noticed that he was pressing his hand against his leg rather oddly, the same way she did when her palms were sweaty. She looked up and met his gaze steadily, green-blue eyes that matched her own with a furrowed brow above them.

And in that moment she realized that he truly had no fucking clue what he was doing either.

The knowledge loomed over her for a moment, threatening to capsize the little stability she’d based in the assumption that, for all his fuck ups, Adgar did have some sort of plan or basic direction for his legitimately terrible parenting choices.

Except he really just didn’t.

Her mother’s passing had left a gap that Adgar not only wouldn’t fill, but couldn’t. He simply wasn’t capable of being her parent and figuring out how to do so.

A tightness closed around her throat, but she swallowed the lump and kept her gaze on him.

Anna smiled. She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay,” she said. “I am glad that we can have the relationship that we do.” She paused, looking for words. She didn’t have any idea what she was doing either, but at least that didn’t scare her. She was sixteen, so it was kind of expected. “I still don’t think you need to go so far overboard with the overcompensating, but I... I appreciate the sentiment behind it. You want to do right by me and I want you to know that I recognize that. Thank you.”

She let go of his shoulder and they shared an uneasy smile. After a beat, Anna found she had one last thing to add. “It’s more important to me that you recognize my independance than that you insert yourself as my father, Adgar. These aren’t easy roles for us to play, but I do appreciate that part.”

“As long as you aren’t hurting yourself, you don’t need to worry that I will step in like that,” he said. “I merely hope to provide an environment in which you can succeed.”

She nodded, glad that she hadn’t inherited a particularly rebellious streak. That would have made this awkward. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” he echoed her.

They sat in silence for a moment. Anna didn’t actually think this conversation had changed anything so much as just... put out in the open what was already going on. It felt strange, but not bad.

She opened the passenger door. “We’d best get going. I wanna see what you’ve picked out for me. You have good  taste in equestrian gear.”

He hopped out of the car on the other side. “Thank you!” he called over, in a different tone than before. She got the sense that both of them were glad to leave the odd exchange behind them. Falling back into familiar territory, they walked together to the stables.

*

By the time Adgar and Idunn’s wedding anniversary came by later that week, Anna was glad her birthday was done. In the past it had always felt awkward, how close the two events were, but... for some reason, she felt more relaxed about it this year. Watching the two of them smile from across the dinner table, she felt less like the bastard child and more like a family friend.

It was odd, feeling happy for them, but not necessarily bad.

Nevertheless, she found herself tripped up when Adgar mentioned ‘the trip’ in a passing sentence to Idunn.

“Wait,” Anna interjected, “what trip? Where are you going?”

“The New York trip. We’re leaving tonight and will be gone all weekend.” Adgar frowned. “Hm. We’ve been running around a bit. I’m sorry it just hasn’t come up yet... I swear Elsa said she told you, however.”

Anna took an oversized bite of food to give herself a moment to think. Of course, Elsa picked the worst possible time to be excused to the bathroom. She couldn’t think of a reason Elsa wouldn’t have told her. However, it was generally a bad idea to contradict potential cover stories when engaged in a secret relationship.

She gestured awkwardly to her mouth as she finished chewing. “Oh yeah,” she said, smiling and tapping her head. “I totally forgot. New York City. The Big Apple.”

Idunn smiled. “It’s been forever since we saw a show on Broadway, hasn’t it?”

Adgar nodded. “Far too long. I’m so glad Elsa suggested the idea.”

Anna squinted, starting to put the pieces together right as Elsa herself came back from the bathroom. Anna watched her glance around the table, sizing up the situation as best she could. As soon as she sat down, Anna gave Elsa’s foot a small kick under the table.

“What show are they seeing again?” Anna asked her. “I don’t think you told me which one.” Elsa gave her a blank look and Anna added, “We were just talking about their New York anniversary trip, I totally forgot it was happening.” She tried to make it sound like she was just catching Elsa up when she was actually trying to prompt her.

“Oh, er, I didn’t tell them which one to go to,” Elsa said awkwardly. She turned to her parents. “You haven’t told me yet either. Which one are you going to see?”

Internally, Anna facepalmed. She’d been operating on the assumption that Elsa had been more involved in the process than she actually was.

Thankfully, Adgar and Idunn didn’t seem to notice the potentially-suspicious exchange. They were still looking at one another when Idunn answered, “We’re going to go see Wicked, actually. I’ve wanted to see it forever!”

Anna’s jaw dropped. “Ohmygosh! Really? Oh I wish I could go! I’ve been listening to the soundtrack and it’s just amazing.”

Idunn turned and smiled widely. “I can’t wait to tell you all about it. You’ll have to blame Elsa for not being able to go, however. She insisted that Adgar and I get a weekend to ourselves.”

Turning toward Elsa, Anna wasn’t pretending when she shot her a look of deep, heartfelt betrayal. “Elsa,” she said, “But they’re seeing Wicked!”

Elsa put her hands up defensively. “I figured that’s what they’d pick, but I absolutely didn’t pick it for them.”

Adgar laughed. “Maybe this summer, before Elsa leaves for college, we’ll work a couple Broadway shows into our vacation. We could stop in New York for a few days before heading on to Martha’s Vineyard.”

“Maybe.” Idunn glanced at the clock. “But we need to get going soon, Adgar. We have a full schedule tomorrow and we want to check into the hotel at a decent hour.”

Finally, it occurred to Anna that was real reason why they’d had dinner so early in the afternoon. The next half hour blurred into doing the dishes and helping them load the car until, finally, it was time to say goodbye for the weekend.

Anna gave Adgar and Idunn quick hugs, but Elsa was, oddly, even quicker about her goodbyes. She didn’t even wait until they’d walked out the front door before excusing herself upstairs, saying something about a phone call.

But Anna knew better than to call attention to any of Elsa’s odd behavior around Adgar and Idunn, so she stayed and wished them goodbye, reassuring them that she’d make sure Elsa didn’t get too stressed over the weekend. She locked the door after they left, then headed upstairs.

She frowned. Elsa was acting rather strangely, and she very rarely kept things from Anna. She most especially rarely kept things from Anna when it had to do with Adgar and Idunn. She first went to Elsa’s room, knocked, and waited a moment before opening the door. She was mildly surprised to find it empty, but shrugged and walked back over to her own room.

She pushed the door open to find the room dark. It took her a moment to blink and adjust her eyes to the dim, flickering lighting. Once she could see clearly, her mouth fell open.

Wearing nothing but a slip, Elsa lay posed on Anna’s bed like something out of a movie. Her unbraided hair splayed across her shoulders and the bedsheets. A deep blush colored her cheeks.

“Hi, Anna,” she squeaked.

Anna blinked again. She could feel a deep blush of her own start to creep across her face. Elsa certainly wasn’t naked, but the thin slip wasn’t covering all that much.

“H-hey Elsa,” she said, clearing her throat. After a beat, she walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. Despite Elsa’s posing, a clear invitation to look, Anna kept her eyes fixed on the headboard behind her. “You, look, uh, amazing.” Anna felt rather warm. She brushed her hair off her neck.

“Thanks,” Elsa said.

They sat together in silence until Anna felt the mood shift from tense to relaxed as they both grew more accustomed to this new circumstance. She looked into Elsa’s eyes and saw a familiar mischievous glint; it was dulled by self-consciousness and worry, but still present.

Anna smiled and winked. “I see you’ve pulled off quite the scheme here, and under everyone’s nose too.”

Elsa’s shoulders dropped their tension and a smile pulled at the corner of her lips. “Thank you,” she said. Her voice carried a certain assurance now that had been missing before. “I almost told you the other day, but when we got cut off I decided to make it a surprise instead.” She gestured around the room and Anna noticed that Elsa had placed several candles around the room, setting a romantic mood. “Happy birthday,” Elsa whispered.

Anna smiled softly. “I’m not even sure when you had the time to get this all set up,” she said. “Thank you.” After a pause, she crawled across the bed over to Elsa and kissed her cheek. “Let’s cuddle,” she said.

“Oh, okay.” Elsa seemed a bit surprised, though not upset. She adjusted so she was lying on her back and held an arm out so Anna could rest her head on the space between Elsa’s shoulder and breast.

It was a fair bit different to do so with Elsa wearing the thin slip, which gave Anna a much clearer view down her girlfriend’s cleavage than normal. Anna tilted her head so she was looking up at Elsa’s face. “I know what you’re doing,” she said, wrapping an arm around Elsa’s waist.

“Y-yeah?”

Anna felt Elsa tense under her a bit. She rubbed her hand along Elsa’s side a few times. “Hey, hey, no need to be nervous. I just... I just want to check with you and make sure we’re on the same page.” Anna chuckled and kissed Elsa’s cheek. “I’ve seen more than a few movies in my life. And I’m, uh, not opposed to the direction this seems to be headed. I just want to make sure that’s what you want too.”

Elsa smiled, still a bit nervous looking, and kissed Anna’s forehead. “I do too.” She laughed lightly. “I went through the trouble of practically planning their weekend getaway so that we could have a safe stretch of time together.” She cleared her throat. “If, of course, you want to do so. I would be more than happy to just lie here and cuddle with you.”

“Is that so?” Anna started tracing a circle on Elsa’s hip with her thumb. Beneath her, she felt Elsa tense up. “Well if that’s the case, I would like to take the moment to formally ask you if we can have sex.” A beat. Before Elsa could answer, Anna planted a quick kiss on her lips. “Do the do.” She kissed Elsa again. “Bump uglies.” Another kiss. “Do the horizontal tango.” Kiss. “Play hide the salami.” Kiss. “Make the beast with two backs.” Kiss. “Shack up.” Kiss. “Do the nasty.”

Elsa pulled back out of the cuddle, crossing her arms and trying to look unimpressed. Anna could see a smile at the corners of her lips though, so she continued with her alternatives. “Roll you over the clover. Consummate our relationship. Get busy. Copulate. Rock the boat. Shag.” Elsa started giggling and Anna joined in for a moment. “Make love,” she added in between laughs. “Frick frack.”

Elsa finally put a hand over Anna’s mouth. “Oh my god please stop,” she managed before breaking out into laughter again. “I am trying to make this romantic and sweet and here you are ruining the moment with some of the most ridiculous euphemisms I’ve ever heard. I don’t even think that last one is real.”

Anna pulled Elsa’s hand off her mouth. “No, no it totally is.” She shrugged. “And can you blame me? You weren’t saying ‘sex’ so I figured I would just lay it all out there.” Reaching out, she stroked a hand along Elsa’s cheek. “Plus, I’d kill the mood every time if I knew I could get you to smile and laugh.”

Something in Elsa’s expression shifted, though her smile did not disappear. She leaned forward and pressed close to Anna for a lingering kiss. Before they could deepen it, Elsa pulled back. “We don’t have much time,” she said, eyebrows furrowed. She pressed in again and gave Anna another long kiss.

By the time she pulled back, Anna wasn’t sure what Elsa was talking about. “We have all weekend,” she murmured, putting a hand on Elsa’s hip and pulling her close for another kiss.

“I mean... we don’t have much time to do this.” Elsa’s voice pitched high on the last word as Anna pressed her lips against Elsa’s neck. Before Anna could ask what she meant, Elsa’s hands gripped her shirt tight, pulling her so they could see one another better. Their eyes met and Elsa immediately looked away. “I turn eighteen in two months.”

It took Anna a moment to process what in the world numbers had to do with the touch of Elsa’s lips and the scent of her hair.

When she understood, she felt the lightness from before drain out of her. “Oh,” she said. Her voice sounded farther away than usual.

“Do... do you still want to?” Elsa’s voice had grown very small.

Anna kissed her again, gentle and soft. “Of course,” she whispered. “We should enjoy the time we have together. And right now, that means all weekend.” She ignored the voice in her head that said it would be more than the sex that stopped on Elsa’s birthday. Wrapping her arms around Elsa, she pressed forward into another, deeper kiss.

Pushing away all the complications and concerns, she wrapped herself up in the distraction of Elsa’s lips and the the sound of her breath catching. Every time it did, Anna imagined being able to hold onto the moment and stay there forever, to reject the passage of time and the inevitable halt it would bring.

Chapter Text

They talked about it, of course. They talked about everything, always.

“It’s not even just my birthday,” Elsa said, hugging one knee to her chest. “I did some research on the, um, legal stuff.” She dipped her head a bit more and her hair fell further down around her face. “I couldn’t quite understand everything, but I’m pretty sure we’d be in legal trouble, ages aside, because of our, um, relation.”

Anna nodded, even as an uncomfortable flush permeated her cheeks. “Yeah,” she said. She doubted ‘Elsa isn’t my sister because this isn’t my family’ would hold up in court.

“And it’s not even the legal thing anyway,” Elsa said, wringing her hands. Anna wanted to cross the bed to hold her, but the conversation seemed to necessitate a certain distance between them. “I mean, my parents are lawyers. If it came down to it, I’m almost certain everything would be hushed up or whatever.” She shrugged almost aggressively, then reached up to tug on a wisp of hair that had fallen down to frame her face.

A brief silence fell between them as Anna waited for Elsa to continue. After a few moments, she cleared her throat. “So... what is it then?” she asked, keeping her gaze level and direct toward Elsa. “If it’s not all those things, then what is it?” Anna’s voice wavered and threatened to break at the end, but she refused to let it do so. She refused to cry over this. Not in front of Elsa.

Meeting her eyes for a few long moments, Elsa swallowed hard and Anna wondered if she was keeping back tears too. “I... I’m going to college this August,” Elsa said. “And I feel like a bitch because this keeps sounding like an ‘I can’t do long distance’ conversation in my head, but it’s not just that.” She slumped further against the corner post of Anna’s bed. “I just don’t think I can sustain the stress of our secret away from your support. I can’t go to college and pretend to be normal when I have a secret girlfriend back home. At this point I’m almost certain I have generalized anxiety disorder and, without you actually there, I just don’t think I can do it.”

Anna kept nodding, trying to communicate understanding even though she knew she was about to try and disagree. After an appropriate pause to make sure Elsa was done, she swallowed the lump in her throat. “First, I just want to say that I’m glad you’re recognizing your anxiety and I have full confidence in your ability to work through it.”

Elsa smiled, just a bit. “Thank you.”

“And this... this next part, I just want to say that I’m not... that if you’re just done, I won’t try to convince you otherwise. I would never want to pressure you if this is just, um, a break up.” Her voice caught on the words and she paused. The words ‘don’t cry’ sounded repeatedly in her head as she tried to keep herself steady. When she could speak, she continued, “So yeah if this is just done-done, I’ll shut up. I guess I just want to say that I would totally support you in your anxiety, no matter the distance. No matter the reason.” She smiled softly. Finally, it felt right to reach across the bed and put a hand on Elsa’s knee.

“I care about you so much, Elsa,” she said. “and I don’t care if you’re in college or right down the hall. I’ll help you and call every night and be here no matter what. I know it would be hard to keep our secret, but... would it be too hard to manage if I help you bear the burden?”

Elsa sighed heavily, taking Anna’s hand in her own and holding it tight. “No,” she said. The word felt wrong though, because if she agreed then... Anna assumed she’d sound happier. If she agreed, they could stay together, right?

“I have no doubt in our ability to stand against anything together,” Elsa said. She smiled, but only just. “I’m sure we’d call every night and text all day and be there for each other in as many ways as we could manage. You’d ask about my homework and papers due and help me draw up a schedule. I’d probably list your name as a different contact in my phone on the off chance someone said something to the wrong person. All that and more.” The smile grew a bit into something more genuine. “I... don’t even doubt that we could pull it off. Truly.”

Anna frowned and pulled her hand out of Elsa’s. “Then... why aren’t we doing that?”

Elsa’s eyes fell. “Just because we can do something doesn’t mean we should?” She bit her lip. “Obviously, given our arrangement, that’s a hypocritical statement at best. Still... I guess I’ve just been trying to figure out how ‘we’ work outside of being around each other all the time, outside of being able to be immediate presences and supports.” She sighed. “We could ‘do’ long distance, but I don’t think that we should. It wouldn’t be the healthy balance we have here. We’d be glued to our phones or computers all the time when I think we’re both be hitting a point where we need to focus outward.”

Questions gathered in Anna’s sinuses, a tingling pressure that made her feel like crying. She combed through the questions for a moment, trying to find one that wouldn’t push her over that edge. After a moment, she managed, “Why?”

“I’m... going to college,” Elsa said it as though she still couldn’t quite believe it. “I’ll have classes and I just... as much as I’ve fallen off the boat with so many of my friends here in high school, I think I need to expand my support system a bit.” She took a deep breath and met Anna’s eyes steadily. “You are such a support to me, but... in so many ways, you’ve turned into the only person I depend on, the only person I feel like I can depend on. And... if we’re still dating and keeping our secrets...” Elsa bit her lip.

Anna sighed. “You won’t reach out to anyone, won’t trust anyone new, and you’ll end up depending on someone on the other side of the country.” Anna finished the trailing sentence when it seemed like Elsa wouldn’t be able to.

Elsa nodded agreement, then hugged both her knees to her chest, burying her face in them. “And you... you’re going into your junior year. You won’t have helping me giving you the structure to keep on top of your own homework. You’ve drifted from your friends too, even though you haven’t meant to.” She sighed and the sound was muted against her knees somewhat. “This is what’s best for us, and it kills me to say it, but this is the decision we have to make.”

“Oh Elsa...” Anna crawled across the bed and sat beside Elsa, putting an arm over her shoulders.

“If I could make any other decision, I would,” Elsa whispered, leaning into Anna’s touch. “I love what we have so much, but what we have isn’t sustainable.”

For a moment, anger pressed up Anna’s cheeks in a hot flush and her arm tightened around Elsa’s shoulders. She wanted to yell and ask why the fuck Elsa had picked a college in California then? She wanted to say that what they had would have been at least moderately sustainable if Elsa had picked some nice college just a few hours drive away or something. They’d at least be in the same timezone, Elsa could come home for weekends, everything like that. They could have kept things working!

And then she remembered overhearing Elsa and Idunn talking about her college decision, about needing space. She hadn’t needed space from Anna. She’d needed space to force her to make this decision.

But... why would Elsa want to put herself into this corner, to force herself to reject Anna?

The anger quieted just enough for Anna to think.

Elsa was always so responsible. And... as much as it pissed her off and closed her throat, setting her sinuses on fire with holding back the tears, as much as this break up (because Anna wasn’t afraid to use hard words in her head) hurt so much... it made sense given the circumstances. She had only just turned sixteen, but Anna forced herself to imagine being... not-sixteen. How did their secret-incestish-dating work as adults? How did it work when they weren’t ‘just teenagers?’

To work out an arrangement with Elsa, in a long-term adult kind of way... they would need to, what, run away and never talk to Adgar and Idunn ever again? Anna sighed. They had something so good together, but... maybe it just wasn’t meant to last.

“So how do we go about doing this?” she asked at length.

Elsa’s shoulders dropped their tension. Anna wondered how much she’d been holding there, waiting for Anna to say something. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“This is basically a break up conversation,” Anna said. She looked away when Elsa flinched at the words ‘break up,’ but kept going anyway. “But I don’t get the sense that you want to cut things off now, to leave the room and call it quits.”

A flush passed over Elsa’s cheeks. “No,” she said. “I... maybe I’m too selfish for that. I don’t want this to end, even though I know it has to. I...” She turned and put her hands on Anna’s shoulders. “I want to hold onto you, onto us, for as long as possible.”

Anna smiled crookedly, then leaned forward and planted a kiss on Elsa’s nose. “Me too,” she said. “I don’t think I could manage this like a band-aid, if we just ripped it off. Maybe small steps would be easier.”

Elsa nodded. “Maybe.” She sounded hopeful and maybe a little earnest.

“We’ll take slow steps,” Anna said, glad they’d reached a point in the conversation where her ability to make decisive plans was the forte. She felt herself stepping back into a stronger role. “We’ll just step back and ease ourselves out until it’s your birthday. When you turn 18, that’ll be our cutoff point.”

Elsa frowned. “But... what about all the ‘family summer vacation’ plans that Adgar and Idunn have been going on about? Now that I’m not competing, they have some seriously grand visions for the summer.”

Plans snapped together in Anna’s head, too fast for her to find words for them. “I know,” she said, still not sure quite what she was thinking in time to say it. “But... I’m not sure yet. I think I will potentially have other plans for the summer. I’ll work it out.” If she wasn’t trying to milk as much time with Elsa as possible... if she and Elsa were going to be over, then maybe Anna could find her own place to be, away from the ‘family’ vacation mess.

“Oh.” Elsa seemed to shrink a bit. “Okay.” She swallowed hard. “I was kind of figuring it would be my birthday anyway,” she said. “As much as we’re not too concerned with the legalities...”

“You’ll be an adult,” Anna said. “And we’re making this decision because of impending adulthood. I get it.”

“Yeah.”

They sat together for a minute in silence. Anna could hear cars driving by outside every few seconds, but no garage door to signal Adgar and Idunn’s return. If they hadn’t been having this conversation, she and Elsa would normally be spending the time alone making out on her bed.

Anna stood up. Space had to start somewhere. “I... think I’m gonna go get a snack,” she said. Elsa nodded and mumbled something about homework in response. She didn’t follow Anna down like she sometimes did. Anna tried to resign herself to this new state of normal, but couldn’t quite manage it. She kept expecting Elsa to come downstairs and find her crying in the kitchen, but she never did.

*

Homework didn’t change, especially not with the end of the year so close. Finals loomed over them, but Anna was feeling more prepared than usual this year. She was in the middle of deciding that biology might be pretty cool after all when she heard the garage door opening. She immediately sat up. That sound, when Adgar and Idunn were both home, meant that one or both of them was leaving. She set her pencil down, thoughts of bio homework forgotten, and waited for the call.

She was a bit surprised to hear a knock on her open door. Anna turned to see Idunn standing in the doorway with her purse. Out of the corner of her eye, Elsa’s turn mirrored her own.

“I just wanted to let you know that Adgar and I are going to get some carryout for dinner,” she said. She seemed a little distracted. “You two are alright with Chinese, right?”

Anna and Elsa nodded in tandem, but Idunn wasn’t even looking. “Thanks girls,” she said. “See you later.” Anna frowned as she disappeared from the doorway, heading downstairs. Something seemed off with Idunn lately, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

She listened to the sound of Idunn’s heels clacking on the hardwood downstairs. The garage door opened and shut.

With the mechanical sound of the garage, Anna felt herself smile. Over the past few months, she’d come to expect... something, whenever that happened.

The silence in her room stretched out. She could hear Elsa not doing her homework either. Neither of them had turned away from the door.

Anna stood up and yawned. “I’m gonna go get a drink of water,” she said.

“Mkay.” Elsa’s voice sounded purposefully casual.

They needed space. Anna told this to herself repeatedly as she went down the stairs. They were taking small steps away from each other, she reminded herself as she got a glass and filled it at the fridge. On her way up the stairs, she took a steadying breath and decided she wasn’t going to initiate anything. That was doable, right? She could surely untrain herself away from that sound, from the expectations it carried. She took her time, deliberating each step. It would be easier to delay now, give them a little less time alone together.

She stopped at the top of the stairs and took a long sip of water. Her mouth felt dry, but she resisted the urge to lick her lips. It felt too much like anticipation to do that. She resented the fact that she really really wanted to and took another gulp of water before going into her room.

Elsa was sitting on Anna’s bed, looking excessively casual.

Anna smiled before she even thought to stop herself. “Taking a break?” she asked.

A smile, nod, and blush. “Yeah. It’s about time.”

For a long moment, Anna tried to reach for the willpower that had slowed her steps coming up the stairs. She tried to hold on to that determination to be responsible and pull back slowly but surely.

She set her water down at her desk, and then turned around, back toward her bed.

She felt entirely sixteen. Abstract concerns about adulthood and what should be or ought to be done felt very far away as she walked back over to where Elsa was sitting, no, lounging, on her bed.

After a pause (just long enough to tell herself that she’d tried) she lay down behind her girlfriend. “Study breaks are healthy and good for your long-term productivity,” she said. It felt like a memorized line, almost. She said stuff like that to Elsa all the time, had facts about self-care tucked away in a cache so she could pull them out whenever Elsa needed reminding. They acted like a charm to ward off Elsa’s anxiety enough for her to relax.

She wrapped her arms around Elsa, spooning her close, and wondered if Elsa would remind herself about these things if Anna wasn’t there to say them.

“I know,” Elsa whispered. It wasn’t the haughty ‘I know’ that made you wish you hadn’t said anything. It was the kind of statement that was just another way of phrasing ‘thank you’ when the words themselves aren’t enough.

Anna nuzzled against Elsa’s braid, breathing in the smell of her conditioner. She licked her lips and pressed a kiss against the back of Elsa’s neck.

Elsa turned around inside her arms and they kissed slowly for a few minutes in the quiet of the empty house.

*

They still held hands when Elsa drove the both of them to school. It didn’t stop feeling right. Elsa’s hand still fit perfectly in Anna’s own. They’d get in the car, Elsa would back out of the garage, and then they just fit their hands together without htinking about it all that much. It was a habit that took over before they had pulled out of the driveway.

The problem came when it was time to get out.

The problem person changed day to day.

Some mornings it was Anna. She wouldn’t want to let go, to go to school and be distant again. She wanted to sit in the car and just be together in the moments they had.

Some mornings it was Elsa. She would run her thumb along the back of Anna’s hand and close her eyes after parking. Leaning back in the driver’s seat, Anna could never tell if Elsa was on the verge of tears or the edge of a smile.

They always let go and got out of the car eventually. Time never stopped like she wanted it to.

*

Adgar seemed to be travelling more lately. At least that’s how it felt to Anna, especially in the weeks after her conversation with Anna. He’d leave for a day or three during the week and be back later. She didn’t know much about his job, but she assumed there was something important going on, since he seemed so preoccupied even when not on a trip.

Idunn seemed to agree. After one such short trip, she suggested over dinner that she take her work with her and accompany him on the next one.

As soon as she heard the idea, Anna felt her entire body go on edge. It was one thing for Adgar and Idunn to step out of the house together, to leave Anna and Elsa alone for an hour, maybe two. It was another thing entirely for them to leave for a day or more.

It took every ounce of willpower not to look over at Elsa, sitting next to her at the dinner table.

One week later, it took every ounce of willpower not to look at Elsa, sitting at the spare desk in Anna’s room as they both attempted to work on homework like normal.

Eventually, Anna cave in. “Elsa,” she said, putting down her pencil, “we may not get another chance like this.”

Elsa kept writing for a few seconds longer, maybe finishing the sentence she was on. Then she set her pencil aside and sighed. “I know,” she said. “But... should we?”

Anna stood up and walked over. She wrapped her arms around Elsa’s shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “Let’s go out. One more fancy dinner, a real nice date.” Despite herself, Anna’s words seemed to trail off at the end. She hadn’t meant it to, but Elsa definitely picked up on it.

“And then?” she asked, voice guarded.

Anna leaned down and kissed Elsa’s cheek. “And then... whatever feels right, whatever we want to do.”

A long pause. Anna’s shoulders tightened, but she didn’t let the tension go through to Elsa. After a few beats, Elsa nodded, nuzzling Anna’s cheek. “Let’s go then,” she said. “A nice dinner and then... if you still want to, um, we could enjoy a quiet night in.”

Straightening up, Anna smirked. “Is that what we’re calling it nowadays. I have some other suggestions if you’d li—”

“No. No.” Elsa bounded to her feet. She whirled around and reached out in a placating gesture. “I have heard plenty of your alternate suggestions for the activity and I think I’m fine for now.”

Anna laughed and skipped forward to plant another kiss on Elsa’s cheek. This one felt more natural by far. “It just doesn’t feel accurate, calling it a ‘quiet night in’ when that first part is patently false. If you’ll recall—”

Elsa rolled her eyes and turned to leave the room, but the gesture could not bely her fierce blush. “You’ll be doing nothing but recalling those memories tonight if you don’t hurry up and get ready for dinner.”

More laughter, more teasing, and, at least for the rest of the night, Anna could let herself feel like everything was back to normal.

*

Sooner than expected, before Elsa’s birthday arrived, Anna found herself abruptly alone in a time she wouldn’t have expected. It simply hadn’t occurred to her, not as Elsa had studied for her finals, that Anna would be studying for her own alone. Seniors did their finals a week and a half or so before everyone else so their grades could be compiled for graduation. Once Elsa was done—after a fervent week of nonstop studying in Anna’s room—she had no more homework to do.

And since Elsa was finally hanging with her friends for once, Anna was doing homework in her room alone for the first time in forever.

The quiet made her nervous. She was used to the small sounds of Elsa working away at the spare desk, but... her things had been cleared away. She wasn’t sitting there at all. There was no quiet scritch of pencil on paper, no occasional turn of a book page. It was just quiet.

Anna found herself kicking the corner of her desk to keep it from sounding quite so sterile and finally just rolled her eyes and googled a white noise website. She clicked through, sampling different sounds, until she found one that eased the tension in her shoulders.

Going back to her trig homework, she sighed with relief, with tiredness, as she refocused on the page. She didn’t have Elsa to lean on for help now, but she knew she could figure it out. She’d been working hard for several minutes when she heard the sound of the garage door downstairs.

Anna immediately sat up. Her whole body thrummed with a feeling between anticipation and assumption.

“Anna! I’m heading out!” Idunn called from downstairs.

Her tension and feelings of expectation started to ease. “Okay, see you later,” Anna called back. She couldn’t even look back at her homework until she heard the garage door close again.

For a minute, she stared at her homework, but some habits were too deeply ingrained to ignore. She stood up and stretched for a moment before flopping onto her bed face first. She might not have Elsa around to take breaks with and maybe kiss, but she could at least take a brief moment for herself.

She buried her face into the blankets and fought with the urge to cry for a moment. She’d never thought pulling back would be easy, but... she didn’t think it would feel this hard either.

After a couple minutes of break, Anna straightened up and hopped off the bed. The study habits she’d formed to help Elsa weren’t failing her at least. She sat at her desk and kept working at her trig.

Finals weren’t the only things she’d have to face alone, and they wouldn’t be the worst either.

“Just keep at it,” she whispered to herself.

*

“Anna!”

She looked up from a streamer and saw Elsa barrel around the corner. Anna frowned. “Yeah? What is it—”

Elsa seized her arm and started towing Anna up the stairs. She let go of the decoration she was about to put up so it wouldn’t tear. “I—I need you, I need to talk to you.” Elsa’s volume dropped and her voice wavered.

Anna kept pace and put her arm around Elsa’s shoulders as best she could. “I’m right here, Elsa,” she said. She blinked at the top of the stairs when Elsa steered them toward her room instead of Anna’s room.

“Thank you,” Elsa whispered as she shut her door behind them.

Anna was in the middle of saying, “What’s wrong,” when Elsa practically knocked the wind out of her with a tight, desperate hug. Deciding to put words aside for a moment, she just hugged Elsa back, rubbing her shoulder and holding the close.

They stood there like that for a long moment. Anna noticed that Elsa didn’t feel quite as tall as she used to. The last time she’d really noticed it had been right before they went Christmas shopping in December and Elsa had at least a couple inches on her.

The idea that Anna might close the gap between them was at once troubling and appealing. She didn’t like being reminded how the passing of time would inevitably change them, both as individuals and as... whatever they were together.

After a minute, Elsa slowly pulled out of the embrace. She didn’t step all the way back, however, keeping her hands on Anna’s shoulders. Anna left her hands resting on Elsa’s hips. “What’s wrong?” she asked again, noting Elsa’s shaky hands and unsteady breathing.

“I can’t do this, I... I can’t. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Elsa’s voice caught and she blinked a few times, like she was on the edge of tears.

Anna pressed down on Elsa’s hips, trying to be a grounding force against the panic attack. “Hey, hey, let’s talk it through. What is it that you don’t think you can do?” She smiled gently and tried to keep Elsa’s gaze on her.

Elsa seemed unable to focus on her. She kept looking around, gripping Anna’s shoulders tightly. “I just... not today. I let father go ahead with the planning and I just... no. I don’t want this, I don’t want the party. I just want you and I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Breathe,” Anna reminded her gently.

Taking a shuddering, deep breath, Elsa finally met her gaze. A pair of tears rolled down her cheeks. “I thought it was the best thing, so I backed myself into a corner, to make myself make the ‘right decision.’ Now... now I feel stupid and hurt and trapped. I can’t even make it through my own party without crying.”

Anna used one hand to wipe away Elsa’s tears, then pulled her close in another hug. Different from the last one, she tried to be firm, but gentle. She didn’t let any of the panicked energy from before color the motion. After a moment, unable to help herself, she smiled and kissed Elsa’s cheek as she pulled back. “There’s nothing wrong with that,” she said.

Elsa frowned. She seemed confused, but even that emotion pulled her out of the panic a bit. “I can’t even make it to the start of the party without sobbing. How is there nothing wrong with that.

“Well, it’s your party and you can cry if you want to,” Anna said with a wink.

Elsa stared at her, incredulous. After a beat, her expression shifted to deadpan. “That was terrible,” she said.

Anna did not point out—did not need to point out—that Elsa had stopped crying though. She just smiled. “Even if Adgar did arrange everything, it’s your party,” she said. “Your friends are coming, plus plenty of snooty family friends. It’s gonna be a low-pressure environment for you. You’ve got this.”

Before she could finish, Elsa had started shaking her head. “It’s not the party itself. It’s... what it all means.” She bit her lip. “It’s the dual graduation/birthday thing. It’s turning 18 at midnight. It’s realizing that I backed myself into a corner, I forced my own hand, and I’m finding I don’t like where I’ve put myself.” Her grip tightened on Anna’s shoulders. “I... I can’t do this without you. I don’t think I can lie in this bed I made for myself.”

In that moment, their roles switched.

If Elsa had broken down earlier and said she’d wanted to go back on their agreement, on their breakup, Anna would have agreed and helped her revise the plans. She’d agreed because it’s what Elsa had wanted, had said was best. But if she’d changed her mind, Anna would have gone along with it.

It wasn’t until Elsa’s convictions broke that Anna finally found herself agreeing with them in the first place.

They’d crossed a line at some point, gone too far in how they leaned on each other. Because Anna knew this would be rough, she knew it would be hard and it would hurt to be apart from Elsa. She also knew it was possible. She knew that she would make it through. She also knew that Elsa would make it through, despite the challenges.

The problem was that Elsa didn’t believe she could.

Anna bit her lip as she pulled Elsa close and rubbed her back. If Elsa had tried to reverse things earlier, Anna would have gone along with it, but not with this realization. Because even though it hurt, now she knew that Elsa had to go off to college and face those challenges without her. She needed to succeed on her own, without Anna’s support, so she would know that she could.

Anna deepened the hug and held Elsa tighter. Maybe later, maybe after the first year or semester of college, Elsa would realize that she didn’t need Anna’s support. Elsa would stand up on her own and have the confidence in herself that she could. And... maybe once she did that, they could come back together without that codependency. Maybe. If they didn’t need each other, they could just want one another.

Pulling back out of the hug, Anna could see a glimmer in Elsa’s eyes. Without asking, she knew that Elsa wanted her to say, ‘we don’t have to break up,’ or, ‘you could defer for a semester,’ or maybe , ‘let’s figure a way out of this together.’

A dozen solutions sat on the tip of her tongue. It would be so easy to come up with something that would solve the immediate problem. She could remain Elsa’s sole support and they could work out all the life details later.

Anna licked her lips and leaned forward. She pressed a gentle kiss to Elsa’s cheek. “I have all the faith in the world that you will make it through this,” she said. “We’ve made the best decisions we could. We are going to prove, to ourselves and to each other, that we can thrive on our own.” She leaned her forehead against Elsa’s. “And maybe, when I’m 18 and we have a bit of space, we’ll figure ourselves out again.”

Elsa shifted and met her gaze. The hope from before was absent, replaced by a quiet, accepting resignation. “You really think we could pick this up again?”

“It’s hard for me to picture the future,” Anna admitted. “This is a good time to say, ‘I’m only 16,’ but... I don’t see why not.” She smiled. “I know we’ll find each other later. We’ve always figured out some weird way to fit into each other’s lives. I doubt we’ll stop now.” She leaned forward and gave Elsa a brief kiss on the lips. “But for now, let’s just make it through the party.”

“Yeah.” Elsa’s voice sounded a bit absent, but more solid than before.

Anna opened Elsa’s bedroom door and walked out. “It’s not everyone who gets to have their graduation party and birthday party on the same night.”

*

Anna wished she’d checked over the guest list. If she’d known who all was coming, she’d have stashed herself away in her room in advance of them showing up. That’s what redheaded bastard children were supposed to do, right?

As much as it was Elsa’s graduation  and birthday party, it was honestly half a socialization event for Adgar and Idunn’s socialite friends. After the third awkward, ‘wait but who are you exactly’ instance, she just introduced herself as a friend of Elsa’s. Saying she was Adgar’s child whose unmarried mother had died... was not an option. Trying to actually use the obnoxious ‘oh just some random adopted orphan’ story was the most awkward thing to wrangle simultaneously with ‘but I do not consider or treat Adgar and Idunn like my parents.’

Most people didn’t seem to care much. If anyone noticed similarities in her facial structure to Adgar or Elsa, they didn’t say anything. After a while, Anna was able to stand peacefully in the corner, munching on snacks and people watching. She felt like an abandoned plus-one at some friend-of-a-friend’s wedding.

As for whose plus-one she would have been... Anna tried not to think about Elsa. She tried not to think about the reason for the party, about the fact that Elsa was turning 18, that they were officially breaking it off, breaking up, at midnight.

She managed to avoid most everyone until it was half past eleven. Jane, one of Elsa’s friends, came by her corner and did a double take.

“Hi there.” Anna smiled awkwardly. Potentially worse than the adult socialites were Elsa’s actual friends: all high-achievers, most of them rich, and none of them seemed to know what to make of Anna.

Jane regarded her a moment with curiosity. “Hello,” she said. Anna hoped she’d move on, but the older girl instead decided to lean against the wall by Anna. She clearly intended to make conversation. “What are you doing hiding back here?”

Anna laughed. “Oh I’m not hiding.” She was totally hiding. “I’m just making sure I can eat my snacks in peace. These little sandwiches are so good.”

“They are,” Jane conceded. “But it’s no bother at all if you feel out of place. I won’t judge you or anything.”

Letting a small smile sneak out, Anna nodded her thanks before taking another bite. “I’m not quite sure what my role is here.”

“Me neither, actually.” Jane relaxed her posture a bit. “I tend to approach groups like this from the perspective of an anthropologist. It’s a hobby of mine, actually.” She smiled at Anna. “So part of what made me stop is that you are clearly not engaged or connected to the culture of this party. You’re not a member here and it makes me wonder why.”

Anna felt her smile shift from natural to nervous. She did not need one of Elsa’s friends wondering why Anna didn’t fit in very well. “Eh, I’m just an odd person,” she said with a shrug. “I don’t have a lot of interest in finding my place with this bunch, so I don’t get a membership card.”

Jane studied her for a moment too long. “I felt a bit separate from my main group for a while,” she said eventually. “Right after Elsa and I broke up, Sophomore year, our friend group’s balance was completely thrown off.”

“Mmmm.” Anna couldn’t manage a smile. The idea of breaking up with Elsa felt a bit too close to home. “Well, this isn’t my group, really. It’s not like I want to belong here.” Except.... that wasn’t quite true. She did want to fit in, but the place she fit wasn’t a place she could take.

Picking up on Anna’s shift in mood, Jane seemed concerned, but didn’t pursue it. “Well,” she said eventually, “I hope you do have a place you fit in.”

“I do,” Anna said. She glanced at the clock. “Oh, hey. Midnight approaches.” Once it struck midnight, like Cinderella, Anna would lose the one role she seemed to fit right.

Except it really was for the best. Anna sighed and exchanged empty goodbyes with Jane before the other girl moved on. The wine and champagne bottles seemed awfully tempting as they sat on the kitchen counter. Anna resisted the urge to see if alcohol could really drown her sorrows like popular culture seemed convinced it would.

In the living room, someone suggested getting together a big midnight countdown for the birthday girl. Anna watched them coordinate for a minute or two before Adgar said, “Wait a minute, where is Elsa anyway?” Like something out of a sitcom, everyone stopped and looked around for a minute before scattering about to find her.

Anna’s blood chilled. If Elsa wasn’t out there, she was potentially hiding, potentially having an anxiety attack.

Anna bit her lip. After midnight, they were done, over, they weren’t going to be there for each other like this anymore. But.... until that hour, Anna was still clear to sweep in and help, even if she had recently realized it had reached codependant levels.

Even though everyone else had a minute’s head start on her, they didn’t have Anna’s key advantage of knowing Elsa better. Instead of checking common spaces or Elsa’s bedroom, Anna went to her own room. She wasn’t all that surprised to find the door locked. She knocked on her own door quietly, but with a recognizable cadence.

Tap-tap-ta-tap-tap

A beat later, the doorknob clicked in her hand. Anna opened it and slipped inside the darkened room. She had just one moment to recognize Elsa, who had a dangerous glint in her eye and she pushed Anna right back against the door.

“I didn’t think you were coming when you didn’t answer my text.” Anxiety edged Elsa’s voice, but her shoulders were relaxing. Anna’s presence was apparently enough to start easing whatever had Elsa hiding from the rest of the party.

Anna was about to ask her what text she meant when Elsa leaned forward and pressed a brief, chaste kiss against her lips.

They hadn’t kissed any deeper than that in a week. Anna felt the decision to slowly back off weighing on her shoulders. Her eyes met Elsa’s in the darkness and their arms wrapped around one another simultaneously.

Their lips met again and progressed from soft to rough in moments. Elsa buried her fingers in Anna’s hair, mussing the fancy style she’d done for the party. Anna’s hands slipped up the back of Elsa’s blouse, scratching at her bare back.

Elsa’s lips had never felt so addicting. Everything around them seemed to fall away as they kissed over and over. Elsa pressed herself firmly against Anna and her labored breathing seemed to fill the whole room when Anna started kissing down the side of her neck.

Time faded away, inconvenient and inconsequential, until Anna heard the grandfather clock downstairs begin to strike twelve.

“No,” she whispered, pressing another kiss to Elsa’s lips.

Already, she could feel the distance growing between them as each stroke of the clock counted down how many kisses they had left. She brushed her tongue against Elsa’s one last time as their kisses grew shallower.

Randomly, Anna remembered that it was possible to drown in just a few inches of water.

She lost count of the strikes, but found she knew the last kiss without the numbers to tell her. Even before their lips met, the air around them changed. They pushed together and Elsa brushed her fingertips lightly down Anna’s cheek. Their lips hesitated as they started to pull back, but they pressed back together in tandem for one last kiss that tasted like goodbye sex.

The clock’s last strike echoed in the quiet room. As the tone faded, Elsa stepped back. Anna felt detached from her body as she straightened up against the door. A moment later, Elsa seemed to have vanished. Anna distantly realized that she must have stepped out of the way, but the idea of moving felt impossible as she stood, alone, in her big empty room.

Downstairs, the party sounded even more distant than before, like a movie left on in another room. Anna numbly reached into her pocket for her phone.

When she tried to read the text, she found she wasn’t able to as tears welled in her eyes.

*

Everything after the kiss was formality.

They smiled and talked at dinner, putting on a show for Adgar and Idunn. There was no school to meet up at, but they chatted nicely if Idunn had company over. When there was nobody there to watch them, they didn’t interact. Before the party, it had been so hard to try and pull apart.

And then, just like that, it was easy. Anna felt like a magnet that had been flipped around, the polarities repelling each other effortlessly. When she made the comparison to herself, she didn’t even have to fight the urge to share it with Elsa. She knew that Elsa would appreciate it and that was enough.

She solidified her summer plans to work at the stables, helping Mulan supervise some summer camps and generally looking after the horses. And if Mulan looked at her with that piercing gaze, like she recognized a post-breakup look in Anna’s eyes, she didn’t say anything.

Her summer secure, Anna watched Elsa leave on a family vacation with Adgar and Idunn.

The distance felt strange, but not bad. It was mostly the quiet that disconcerted her, so she started finding reasons to hang out with her friends again. After deflecting the first few questions of, ‘so where the hell have you been anyway?’ they stopped asking.

It was the shortest summer of her life. Anna couldn’t even remember their last words to one another, when it was time for Elsa to go off to college. Nothing of their last exchange stuck out in her mind. Their proper goodbye had been a fumbled, dangerous kiss that tasted like farewell.

When her thoughts drifted back, the memory felt immediate. More real than anything between them since. Just her lips, that kiss, and the eventual realization that she was alone.

End Section IV

Chapter Text

Section V

Anna wasn’t perfect. She knew that much. She was perfectly alright though. Average and kind, a good friend. She was a moderately talented rider, better at Western than English. Her job at the stables, even if it was part-time during the school year, meant that she could teach young riders. The kids thought she was cool. Mulan’s grandmother thought she was a good coach. Her grades were solid.

She was Anna, and Anna was honestly just fine.

Except, maybe, for her home life issues.

Because she wasn’t a good daughter. She didn’t consider herself to be anyone’s daughter, really. At least not anyone living.

And she wasn’t a sister. She wasn’t a sister because that made other things way too complicated and that was a mess she generally avoided thinking about when possible. Despite the first few months of difficulty, that task was easier than she’d thought it would be. All she had to do was keep busy, and she had plenty of lessons in that from Elsa.

She worked at the stables. She did lots of homework. She went riding for fun. She spent time with her friends. And, once she started spending time with her friends again, she found herself more than welcome back. Better still, there was always someone to focus on, always an issue to help address with someone in her friend group. Anna had an undeniable talent for helping other people with their anxieties and problems.

Well maybe not talent. Anna didn’t think she had any natural talents; she had practice. She had a lot of practice supporting friends who were going through a hard time and had conveniently developed excellent life balance and studying skills to supplement that support.

Being a good friend had benefits for Anna too, because sometimes she needed to get out of the house. When you’re everyone’s best support, you always have someone willing to take you in for a spontaneous sleepover.

Anna had a lot of ‘spontaneous’ sleepovers that usually coincided with long weekends and school holidays. This was because she needed to be out of the house to keep Elsa’s visits comfortable. If Anna and Elsa had to spend any extended time around one another, it would be distinctly uncomfortable.

Anna wasn’t a sister or a daughter, but she was a good friend. If it was best for her to be conveniently absent for most of Elsa’s visits home, that was how it had to be. She could work around that and support her friends while she did so.

She spent enough time out of the house, hanging with friends, helping friends, maybe kissing a few of them too, that Adgar and Idunn didn’t even seem to notice that she was always, always absent for most of Elsa’s stays.

The glitch in this master plan, however, was that eventually she’d run out of luck. Everyone would be busy, out of town, or otherwise unavailable.

*

“Shit. Shit shit shit.” Anna mashed out a text message to Aurora.

[no problem, have fun! ttyl]

“Fuck.” Anna’s breath fogged in front of her. She resisted the urge to shiver and slammed her keys back into the ignition. Thankfully, her car’s heaters were quick to fire up. “Thank you, Tennessee,” she murmured, patting her car’s dashboard affectionately before pulling out of the empty lot.

Granted, she still didn’t know where she was going. She’d already told Adgar and Idunn she couldn’t pick up Elsa from the airport because she was helping a friend study, so she couldn’t go home. She had intended to ‘help her friend study’ late enough that she could text and say she was actually staying the night, but it was too damn cold out to loiter until eleven or so, when she could reasonably drive home and claim she was exhausted (thus avoiding Elsa) before slipping into her room and going to bed.

Driving past the library, she hesitated on the wheel for a moment before she kept going. She needed to find a place where she could stay late, and their small-town library was only open until eight-thirty.

She parked in another empty lot and called a few more friends, but nobody was available. Anna was on the verge of parking at a grocery store and awkwardly wandering through for a few hours. Then she looked across the street and noticed an old, run-down motel. She assumed it was abandoned before noticing a couple cars parked on the side.

Anna squinted. She was pretty sure she needed to be eighteen before she could rent a motel room, but this place looked sketchy enough that she might not get carded. Plus, seventeen was old enough that they might not care anyway.

She shrugged and drove Tennessee across the street, parking in the mostly-empty lot. Anna briefly checked her reflection in the mirror, unsure how to quickly make herself look older. After a brief debate on whether or not to smudge her eyeliner, she figured it was probably enough to leave her backpack inside and just bring her purse.

The motel’s front door stuck a little as she pushed it inward. Walking over to the counter, the dim lobby gave her the creeps and the floors felt tacky under her feet. It briefly crossed her mind that this had to be the cheapest place in town.

The girl at the counter set her phone down when Anna came over, but didn’t greet her.

Anna cleared her throat. “Hi. Um. I need a room for—” She hesitated a moment. “Uh, one night.”

“Kay.” The girl scrawled down a few words. “That’ll be forty.” She stood up and turned around to grab the key. “No pot, no pets, no problem.”

Anna blinked. “I can do that.” She dug a pair of twenties out of her wallet.

“You’d be surprised at how many people can’t,” the girl drawled, turning around and handing Anna her keycard. “Room number four is just around the corner,” she said, taking the twenties off the counter. She dotted them both with an anti-counterfeit pen before adding, “Checkout is at eleven.”

The girl hadn’t asked for her ID once. Anna relaxed and was halfway to a smile when her phone beeped. She called back, “Don’t worry, I’ll be gone,” as she walked to the door and checked her text.

From Elsa. Her heart seized for a moment.

[Home now. I’ll be gone for dinner with friends tomorrow.]

Anna yanked the door open and winced as a stiff breeze caught her right in the face. “Fucking winter,” she muttered to herself. She grabbed her backpack from her car and started texting her plans back to Elsa.

Buried in her phone, Anna rounded the corner and ran right into someone tall and bulky.

“Woah!” He took a step back, yanking on his dog’s leash.

“Sorry!” Anna tried to regain her balance and slipped on the icy sidewalk, crashing down and falling into the guy’s dog on her way.

The big dog barked, the guy cursed, and Anna blinked as the both of them quickly ran back to the parking lot and ducked behind a beat up car.

Sitting on her ass in shock for a moment, Anna was just barely getting up to her feet when the girl from behind the counter raced around the corner. She nearly tripped over Anna, but had enough coordination to remain on her feet.

“Where’s the dog? I heard a bark!”

Anna blinked and resisted the urge to look at the car that the guy and his dog were hiding behind. “Uh, there isn’t one?” She said, slowly standing up straight.

The counter girl squinted at her. “Then who the hell barked? You?”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry to freak you out.” Anna coughed roughly. “I, um, I have asthma and sometimes my coughing gets out of hand. I had a bad fit and slipped on the ice.”

“Sure you did,” the girl said. She scowled. “No pets, remember that.”

“I will.” Anna smiled. “Sorry for making you come outside. It’s pretty cold out huh.”

Turning around, the girl shrugged. “It’s not that bad. Enjoy your stay. No pets.” She vanished around the corner.

Anna stood there for a few moments, staring at the car where the guy was hiding with his dog. When they didn’t reappear and she started shivering again, Anna huffed and set off for her room again.

It took three slides for the card to work, but the room itself was perfectly serviceable. Anna dumped her backpack beside the small bed and used the bathroom (which was dirty but not terrible). She’d just allowed herself to fall backwards on the bed when a knock sounded at the door.

She debated for a long moment on not opening it. She wasn’t expecting anyone. Briefly, she imagined that it was Elsa, but she knew it wasn’t. Plus, she hadn’t finished texting Elsa back yet.

A jolt ran through her and she immediately grabbed her phone before getting angry with herself. It wasn’t as though they had conversations anymore. Communication was supposed to be limited to managing the logistics of avoiding one another as much as possible.

Whatever. Anna dropped her phone on the bed and strode toward the door. Whoever it was, in that moment, was officially more important to her than Elsa was. She would answer the door and have as long a conversation as possible because replying to Elsa wasn’t her top priority in life. In fact, Elsa herself was not Anna’s priority in life.

She flung the door open. “Hello?”

Dog guy and his dog blinked in unison. Their mutual expressions of surprise were almost funny. Dog guy recovered after a beat and smiled, apologetic. “I wanted to say thanks for covering for me earlier.” He ruffled his dog’s ears. “We both did. We really can’t afford to get booted from this motel, but that means sneaking him around.”

“Oh.” Anna bent over a bit to pet the dog, who was rather goofy looking. His brown fur was fairly thick; he probably found the weather more tolerable than Anna did. “Well, you’re welcome. Sometimes you need a place to stay.” She smiled, lopsided. “Goodness knows I did.”

“I feel that,” dog guy said, running a hand through his coarse blonde hair. “I actually really like places like this, aside from the pet policy. They’re cheap, for one, but they also don’t lie about what they are.” He chuckled. “Nothing about this place is claiming to be anything but a dirty forty-buck motel, you know?”

Anna shivered a little as a breeze went past. “Yeah, I didn’t get a different impression, that’s for sure. It’s a handy thing, since that’s, like, exactly what I needed today.”

He smiled and, for a weird guy with a weirder dog, he had a really nice smile. “Yeah, I’m gonna be here for week or so, probably. It’s gonna be a hassle with my friend here, but we’ll manage.”

Scratching behind the dog’s ears, Anna asked, “What’s your name?”

Dog guy cleared his throat and said, in a very strange voice, “My name is Sven!”

She blinked up at him before she realized he must have been speaking for his dog. Looking back down at the shaggy creature, she had to admit that the voice seemed to fit fairly well. Still, she couldn’t help but laugh a little. “I meant you, not the dog.”

He went bright red. “Oh,” he said in his normal voice. “I’m Kristoff.”

“Nice to meet you Kristoff, nice to meet you Sven,” she said, smiling. “I’m Anna.” She hesitated a moment, thinking of Elsa, the text she hadn’t sent yet, and everything else behind them. Struck by spontaneity, she said, “Would you like to go on a date?”

Juxtaposed with all the weirdness in her life, a guy who talked for his dog seemed par for the course. Plus, the last ‘normal’ guy she dated had been an ass, so maybe it would be better to start with a strange one.

Kristoff blinked and his cheeks pinked. “Oh, uh, that sounds great, actually.” He smiled. “I’d like that.”

“Tomorrow?” Anna thought of the checkout at eleven. She needed to burn a few hours between then and dinner back home. “Are you open for lunch?”

He nodded. “Lunch tomorrow would be great.” A pause. Kristoff grimaced. “Would you mind if I picked a place where Sven could come with us?”

Anna nodded. “That’s fine with me.” She smiled. He was perfectly strange and so incredibly unlike Elsa that she could have laughed. “But it’s pretty cold, so how about I meet you outside at checkout time tomorrow.”

“Sounds good!” He ruffled Sven’s ears, then said, in his strange dog voice, “See you tomorrow!”

“Bye.” She shut the door. Walking back to her bed, Anna picked up her phone and finished her reply to Elsa. The empty interaction didn’t weigh on her as heavily as it usually did though.

Chapter Text

Anna kept peering around the dog-friendly restaurant Kristoff had picked. She’d manage to live four years in town and, somehow, never pass it. She’d never even heard of it. Nobody had mentioned such a place at any point in time and, frankly, she was a little disappointed in her social circle.

She was not, however, disappointed in Kristoff. She’d followed his beater car all the way to the restaurant and he wasn’t a terrible driver. He used his turn signals and he didn’t object when she opened and held the door for him (Anna believed that whoever got to the door first should hold the door open). Despite being a bit odd, there was nothing legitimately objectionable about him.

She did not consider the state of his car or the general shabbiness of his clothes to be objectionable. She got the sense that Adgar and Idunn would have thought so, which just made her determined not to factor them into her estimation of him.

“They really are careful about dog hair,” he said, smiling sheepishly. “I come here all the time and I’ve never had a problem.” He reached over and ruffled Sven’s ears. The dog was sitting beside the table and looked quite comfortable with his muzzle resting on the edge of the table.

While waiting for their food, a lull came into the conversation. It struck Anna, for the first time really, that she was talking to an actual stranger. Since she’d moved in with Elsa’s parents, everyone she’d met or befriended was, in some way, connected to them. The school (and by extension everyone there) was Elsa’s school first. She was pretty sure Adgar and Idunn made significant donations to it as well. The stables were mostly her own, but Adgar paid the bills and had been the one to introduce her to the Fa family.

Kristoff was just.... some dude. A completely random person she’d met at a cheap motel.

“So what kind of dog is Sven?” She asked, breaking the silence.

Sven perked up at the sound of his name. “I’m not sure,” Kristoff said, rubbing the back of his neck. “He’s been with me since I was thirteen or so, but I don’t know much about dog breeds or anything. I’m pretty sure he’s just a mutt.”

“He’s a very handsome mutt.” Anna reached out and scratched behind Sven’s ears. The dog’s tongue lolled out at that.

Kristoff smiled. “Do you have any pets?”

“Nope.” Anna tried to imagine animals in the perfect Sommerset home. It was far too clean for that. “I do ride horses though.”

“I bet that’s great. I’d need a pretty big horse to carry me around.” Kristoff chuckled.

Admittedly, he was rather tall and solidly built. “We have one or two down at the stables that could probably manage the task,” Anna said. “But they probably wouldn’t appreciate Sven following along right behind you.” She paused, tilting her head. “Where do you go to school?”

Kristoff nodded his head to the side. “Oh, I’m just in community college, part-time. Tuition is cheap enough to manage on top of my job.”

Anna’s first thought was to wonder why he was staying at the motel, if this were the case. Her second thought was mostly awkwardness, because it hadn’t occurred to her at all that Kristoff was over eighteen years old.

And, because Anna had checked herself into the motel, he had probably assumed she was over eighteen.

Internally, Anna facepalmed. Looking Kristoff over again, she estimated that he was probably Elsa’s age or a year older. Twenty, maybe?

“How does that work out?” she asked, trying to hide her mental calculations.

He talked for a bit about balancing school and work, giving her a fair review of the local community college as he did so. It was interesting enough and she asked a few questions, trying to divert the conversation and keep the focus on him.

Unfortunately, as their food arrived (completely free of dog hair) he seemed determined to move things along.

“How about you?” he asked. “Where do you go to school.”

“Oh, well, right now I’m just working down at the stables where I ride,” Anna said. And.... aside from the ‘just’ part, it was true. “I’ve got a few applications in for some colleges, though I’m still waiting on letters back to make any decisions.”

“I understand that,” he said.

Anna smiled, but it felt a little empty. She had the feeling that her college applications—all to very expensive colleges at Adgar’s insistence—were a bit different than Kristoff imagined. Her phone beeped a moment later and Anna nearly jumped. She glanced down and checked it out of habit before it occurred to her it might be rude.

The screen told her it was a text from Elsa. Anna twitched before shoving the phone back in her pocket.

Kristoff frowned. “Who was that?”

“Huh?” Anna could feel her face flushing.

“You don’t have to tell me.” Kristoff put his hands up in a disarming gesture. “You just seem a bit out of sorts for a standard text message.”

“Oh, sorry.” Anna’s mind raced. “It was my, uh.” Elsa. “My ex-girlfriend.”

Kristoff blinked.

Anna blushed a deeper shade of red. It wouldn’t have been any better to call Elsa her sister, although that wasn’t allowed either, but referring to her as her ex seemed worse in some regards. It was just complicated to even try and introduce Elsa since Kristoff didn’t know Adgar and Idunn, wasn’t already spoon-fed the lie that Anna was just some conveniently sponsored orphan, making Elsa her... pseudo-adoptive sister?

“Sorry,” Anna said, grasping for words. She realized, belatedly, that she’d never had to introduce Elsa or even refer to her to someone who didn’t already kind of know what was going on. It felt emotionally abrupt, like skipping a step on stairs that she’d always traversed easily.

Kristoff recovered more gracefully. He shrugged. “No need to apologize. Things get complicated sometimes.” He tilted his head. “So do you mind if I ask if you’re bi, or...?”

“Pan,” Anna supplied, slowly making her mental way back to earth. “I’m pan. Gender doesn’t matter.”

“That’s cool.” He smiled.

Anna, even more belatedly, realized that she’d also come out to him. Everything felt very fast. Most everyone she knew at school already knew because... they’d just been there all along. Or she’d kissed them. That happened a lot.

Shit. Was she going to kiss Kristoff? He was at least Nineteen.

Elsa was Nineteen. Would she ever—

Anna took a bite and tried to think of a topic that had nothing to do with dating or kissing. Thankfully, Kristoff seemed to notice her awkwardness on the topic and didn’t push or ask any more questions. They both ate for a minute in relatively calm silence before Anna asked, “So, uh, does your family live in town?”

A moment later, she regretted it. First, she realized right after speaking that he was likely to return the question and Anna’s family situation was complicated to the max. Second, Kristoff’s face tightened up when she asked. He looked uncomfortable. Sven plopped his muzzle onto Kristoff’s lap.

“Not... really,” he said at length. “It’s a bit of a strange situation.” He pet Sven, distracted.

Anna bit her lip. “Oh, sorry.”

“It’s cool. Uh. How about yours?”

Anna sighed. “It’s... a bit of a strange situation, actually.”

Awkward silence imposed itself in the moments after she spoke, but Anna couldn’t fight a smile that crept onto her face. A beat later, they both laughed. Sven

“Okay, let’s just not talk about that,” Kristoff said, scratching behind his dog’s ears. “Tell me a bit about what you do at the stables?”

On that topic, Anna was able to happily chat away for the rest of lunch. Kristoff had a good sense for animals and asked smart questions. He seemed genuinely interested in her responses and it was nice to talk to someone who didn’t already know everything about her. Sometimes he’d do his ‘Sven voice’ and ask her a question from the dog’s point of view, but even that was more endearing than strange.

They wrapped things up, exchanged numbers, and it wasn’t until they left the restaurant that things got awkward again.

Kristoff cleared his throat before they made it to their cars. “Hey, Anna... uh, can I ask you a question?”

Anna smiled nervously. “Sure. What’s up?”

“How old are you?”

All the blood drained from Anna’s face before immediately rushing back as a fierce blush. “What?”

At her response, Kristoff grimaced. “You were talking about your job at the stables and... you said you applied to some colleges, but all the working hours you were talking about were after-school hours. That and you mentioned your role changing after summer ended.” A faint blush colored his cheeks. “Are you in high school?”

A dozen lies crossed her mind, but Anna sighed, settling for the truth. “I’m seventeen,” she admitted. “I’m in my senior year and I turn eighteen in April. I, um, I didn’t even think about age things when I asked you out. The girl at the motel front desk didn’t card me before giving me the room, and I didn’t realize that you probably assumed I was older.” She ducked her head. “Sorry about not mentioning it before. I... yeah. Sorry.”

Kristoff heaved a big sigh. “It’s okay, I should have double checked too.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “This date was nice, but another is clearly out of the question for a couple months. I’m twenty, by the way.”

“Can we still be friends?” Anna’s words tumbled out of her mouth before she could over-think them. It was probably a little desperate, but she honestly wouldn’t pass up a new friend, even if he was weird and twenty. Maybe especially because he was weird and twenty.

He considered for a moment, but Sven walked right over to her and butted his head against her leg. Anna reached down and scratched his ears.

Kristoff smiled. “Yeah, I guess that’s alright. We can text and hangout. Friends are cool.”

Something about the statement gave Anna the sense that he didn’t have a lot of friends. She smiled back at him. “I’d like that a lot.” And besides, she wasn’t even sure she was cut out for dating. Kristoff was nice, but things on her end were far more complicated than that.

So... the date had really just scored her a friend.

An older friend who wasn’t at all like the people Adgar and Idunn associated with. Something about that made her feel even more rebellious than if it had been a super romantic date. Anna smiled. It felt... independant.

She got into her car and pulled out her phone to check her text from Elsa. She sighed.

[Adgar is upset that I haven’t seen you yet. I’m delaying going out until you get home.]

Part of her groaned, part of her cheered. All of her prepared to see Elsa as she shifted her car into drive and started making her way home.

*

Anna opened the door carefully and walked inside slowly. She held her wrist with her other hand, keeping them close as she passed through the kitchen. Her steps sounded loud in the house and, briefly, Anna wondered if maybe Elsa had already left. Turning the corner, she found herself proven immediately wrong.

Elsa stood as soon as Anna walked into the living room.

Anna felt her pulse race under her fingertips. She gripped her wrist tighter.

“Hello, Anna.” Elsa smiled, polite and a little formal. She was much better at this than Anna was.

That only hurt a little, because seeing Elsa herself was anaesthetic for the distance they put between each other.

Anna took a few slow steps into the room. “Hey.” She blinked a few times. Elsa had started pulling her braid forward, over one shoulder, instead of leaving it straight down her back. It was a good look on her. Anna avoided stalking Elsa on facebook while she was at college, but it just seemed to make the sight of her even more breathtaking in person.

For a moment, Anna’s fondness struggled with anger. The situation was maddening. No rational person would agree to this.

She nearly sat next to Elsa before remembering herself and sitting on the other couch. Keeping distance from Elsa was so much harder when she wasn’t a number on a screen.

Of course, that was the whole point of avoiding one another—to make this easier.

Elsa smiled. Anna could have floated away.

A moment later, she realized Elsa had started talking. “Sorry,” she said. “Could you repeat that?” Anger flared at the edge of her tone, because it was unfair that seeing Elsa made her barely functional. It was unfair that they couldn’t just be normal.

But then Elsa was talking about her college and Anna could have sat there forever, just listening. She could tell, of course, when Elsa was skimming over rough patches. From the hitch in her voice to the way her eyes roamed when she was speaking around a problem, Anna was able to put together a rough map of Elsa’s semester.

She said nothing, just nodded and smiled occasionally to prompt Elsa to continue.

Reaching out or helping would be too close. They’d made a decision.

Anna’s phone beeped.

Reaching into her pocket felt like grasping at another dimension. Checking the time before the text, she belatedly realized she’d fallen into some sort of time vortex and spent almost half an hour on borderline-empty conversation with Elsa.

Even though the living room was perfectly well-lit, Anna’s phone seemed a bit bright as she squinted at the text from Kristoff.

[Youre missing all the motel action here. someone was lit up and set off the fire alarms. fire truck showed up. also police. i smell pot?]

Anna smiled and typed back a quick response.

[Did you get sven out? Is the front desk girl mad?]

She looked up to find Elsa looking oddly at her. Anna rubbed the back of her neck. “Sorry,” she said.

“It’s fine,” Elsa said. They sat in silence for a few moments, just looking at each other. Elsa glanced away. “I should tell you about Adgar.”

Anna frowned. “You got here yesterday. What could be wrong already?”

Elsa grimaced. “Remember that weird family kick he got last Christmas?”

“Unfortunately.”

“That but worse.” Elsa’s eyes wandered back to Anna’s. “It sounded like he’s been keeping things under wraps until I got here, but last night he kept saying that he’s glad his family is all home.”

“That could still be excluding me,” Anna pointed out.

“Yes, except he would qualify that by saying he was sad ‘my sister’ couldn’t be there for my welcome home dinner.”

Anna frowned. “Okay, so.... how bad, overall. Is it just a ‘you and I need to be sisters’ thing or...?”

Elsa shook her head. “I think the weird remorse kick is in high gear. He reached the point of saying maybe Idunn could adopt you and that’s when the both of us did a double topic change.”

“Eeeeh... I can see why.” Anna felt as though she’d just eaten something sour. “That’s.... I mean, what does he want to do, ultimately, go public? Tell everyone I’m the orphaned product of an affair and then and just own it?”

The uncertain, unhappy expression on Elsa’s face was answer enough.

Anna scooted closer. She noticed that Elsa had moved closer too. Briefly, she was thankful that there was at least one topic they could be normal about. “Look, I don’t want that. You don’t want that. For, uh, several reasons.” Notably, if she and Elsa ever wanted to work out some sort of relationship in the future without having to pull off DIY Witness Protection Program. Anna didn’t fancy changing her name and abandoning everybody she knew. She’d literally just made a new friend that morning. “So can we just... I dunno, unite against that? If we both express to him that we don’t want that, he’ll get it, right?”

“I think he’s having a midlife crisis,” Elsa said, “And it seems to be centered around having everything ‘perfect’ in a weird new way with an ‘authentic’ family.” She sighed. “At the very least, my mom doesn’t seem to be a fan.”

“I’m not.”

Anna and Elsa jumped and whirled around. Idunn, at some point, had managed to come up right behind them. Anna felt her pulse pounding under her fingertips. She smiled awkwardly and took a deep breath. “Uh, hi, Idunn.”

“Hello, Anna.” Idunn took a step forward and leaned on the back of Elsa’s couch. “It’s nice that you two finally got to see each other.”

“Yeah, I just really had to, uh.” Anna’s mind raced. She’d gotten so wrapped up in talking to Elsa that she couldn’t remember which cover she’d told Idunn. “You know, take care of friend stuff.”

Anna’s phone beeped. She didn’t check it.

“Mmmhmm.” Idunn nodded, but Anna got the sense that she, unlike Adgar, found the timing of Anna’s absences suspicious. “In any case, I’m also glad to hear that the two of you are on the same page with... recent changes of opinion.”

Her tone of phrase left no doubt in Anna’s mind: Idunn was also not a fan of Adgar’s recent shift in perspective.

“Anna, you and I get along just fine without shoehorning formal adoption and public oversharing into the equation,” Idunn said. “This is the way things have been and this is the way they should stay.”

“Agreed,” Elsa said.

“Yeah.” Anna nodded.

Idunn straightened up. “I have been and will continue to speak with him, but the both of you will have to be direct about the... direction, or status, you would like to maintain with one another.” Something about her eyes seemed to look right through Anna. “I hope you know that he only wants what is best for you. That and, potentially, he’s going through a midlife crisis. If you disagree with what he thinks is best, it would behoove you to express that to him.”

“Okay...” Anna said. Minus Adgar, the advice to ‘be direct’ about how she and Elsa wanted to be with one another felt disconcerting.

Elsa nodded, smiling tightly. “I’ll bring it up the next time we talk.” She got to her feet. “But for now, I really need to head out to dinner.”

Anna waved absently as Idunn started heading back to the office and Elsa made her way to the front door. Her kitten heels clacked on the front hall tile as she did, drawing Anna’s eyes.

Anna struggled with herself, briefly, before letting her gaze roam over Elsa’s ass for a few moments. They’d agreed to distance, not to blindness.

“Stop.” Idunn’s voice came out tired, but crisp.

Anna whipped her head around as Idunn turned on her heel. A flush rose in her cheeks and Anna hoped that Idunn hadn’t notice her staring at Elsa.

“Wait a moment, Elsa.” Idunn sighed and Elsa took her hand off the door, turning around with a frown. “I’ve seen the two of you grow distant since Elsa’s graduation. I’m glad you’ve both expanded your social circles, but the friendship between you is something special.” She paused and a sad note entered her voice. “I stay out of this, generally, but I will indulge myself a bit of parental perspective. Whether you choose to define yourselves as sisters or not is completely separate from whether you, Anna, want to define Adgar as your father, or whatever other familial complications arise. Both of you have grown into fine young women and you do not have to accept the script laid down by mistakes before you.” She paused. “Mine included, for keeping you estranged.”

The admission seemed to echo strangely in the front hall: a pseudo-secret being aired in the house’s most public place. “So on that note,” Idunn continued, “I simply urge you to recall how immensely important the both of you have been to one another. As you explore wonderful new directions in life, new friends, new places, all that... Do not forget each other.”

Idunn quickly exited, seeming embarrassed by her rare parental-advice segment.

“I won’t,” Elsa said. She opened the door and her eyes lingered on Anna’s own in the moments before door closed behind her.

Anna couldn’t look away from the door. Her phone buzzed again. It didn’t seem very important.

She sat back on the couch and replayed Idunn’s words.

‘Do not forget each other.’

A crooked smile pulled at Anna’s lips.

“How could I?”

She posed the question to the empty room. No answer came.

Chapter Text

“Dammit.” Anna groaned as she waited a moment for her character to respawn.

Kristoff laughed. “Don’t be a sore sport,” he said.

“Yeah yeah, whatever.” She huffed and retaliated with a quick series of attacks as Sheik before changing back into Zelda.

Kristoff, to his credit, played the Ice Climbers masterfully. By the end of the match, however, she’d made a comeback.

“Victory!” Anna punched the air.

“Well done.” Kristoff set his controller on top of Sven’s head and stretched.

Anna slumped back against the couch. She took care not to pull on the sheet covering it. “Why do you have an old gamecube anyway?” she asked.

Kristoff shrugged. “Most of my stuff is secondhand. I saw the console and a batch of games for about $10 at a yard sale. I moved here with nothing and was going crazy. I figured $10 was about as good as I was gonna get as far as cheap entertainment. It’s worked out well enough since then.”

“Huh...” Anna paused. They’d been friends for a couple months and studiously avoided certain topics, but she figured it couldn’t hurt too much to ask. “What was it like, first getting here with, um, with nothing?”

Kristoff laughed, a rough honest sound. “Hard,” he said. A pause, then he continued, “It was so, so hard. I had Sven, my car, and a few bucks, really. Thankfully, it was spring when I left, so the weather was fair enough. I slept in my car.”

“You barely fit in your car.” Anna could barely imagine him dozing off in the thing, let alone living in it.

“I managed,” he said, voice dry. “Anyway, I basically picked up free papers, used internet at the library. Eventually, everything worked itself out. It’s been a couple years now. I didn’t even apply to community college for the education.” He chuckled. “I found a program that would let me rent for dirt cheap if I was a ‘working student.’ I figured it would be cheaper to take a class or two every semester than to rent a market price place and... I was right.” He shrugged. “Now I’m on-track to get my associates.”

“Student housing...” Anna snapped her fingers. “Is that why you were at the motel?”

He sighed. “Basically. They do turnover and cleaning between semesters. I tried talking to the landlord, but he still had to kick me out for a few days. It’s supposed to be for ‘working students,’ but there’s still this obnoxious assumption that, between semesters over break, residents are going home or staying with parents.” Kristoff shook his head. “I wasn’t the only one left shit outta luck due to the policy, but I was the only one with a dog to care for.” He ruffled Sven’s ears. “Everyone else paired up to split motel fare somewhere around town.”

Due to her own sensitivity to parental involvement mentions, Anna couldn’t help but notice the distinct lack of Kristoff’s family in his explanation. In fact, he never mentioned them at all.

Granted, although he knew she was under 18, he hadn’t asked once about who she lived with. Something about the mutual silence on the issue felt both comforting and oddly hollow. Since they’d become friends, she could name his favorite foods, video games, and a significant portion of Sven’s medical history. She could not, however, say why he’d moved to town or where he’d moved from.

At some point, they continued playing, but the questions played in the back of Anna’s mind. It was easy to pretend all was well, but... she wasn’t really sure she wanted to anymore. She did enough pretending all day every day. Maybe it wasn’t too much to want one person she could be honest with.

Her distraction was clearly coming into play as well. After tanking three matches straight, Anna set the controller down and sighed. “I grew up in Tennessee,” she said abruptly.

“Huh.” Kristoff relaxed a bit, setting his controller on top of Sven. The dog liked to try and balance it on his head, like an odd hat. “I’ve never been there.”

“It’s warmer and has mountains,” Anna said. She couldn’t help but smile at the thought. “I miss it a lot sometimes.”

She knew the next question was coming before he said it. Anna tried to relax into the couch. Kristoff couldn’t ‘ruin’ Adgar’s reputation. Not that Adgar seemed particularly concerned about that lately anyway.

“What brought you here?” Kristoff asked.

She breathed in, held it a moment, then exhaled. “My mom died,” she said. “Car accident.” She continued before he could say anything sympathetic, or she could have second thoughts. “It was just us. After that, I moved up here to live with my—” Her voice caught. Anna struggled for a moment before choosing a term. “With my birth father,” she finished.

Something in his expression seemed to catch. He caught the controller when it fell off Sven’s head without looking at it. Anna felt the urge to clarify exactly why things were awkward. If she was explaining the basics of her familial mess, she might as well include some of the messy parts. “I’m his bastard affair child,” she added. “Not exactly a welcome family addition.”

He coughed in surprise. “I can imagine!” A pause and he cleared his throat lightly. “That’s.... that’s gotta be a rough spot.” His eyes softened. “I’m sorry about your mom, and about the family situation.”

Anna shrugged. It was easier to just set the mom part aside and keep moving. “It has its ups and downs.” A pause. Anna reflected for a moment. “Well, mostly downs lately.” She waved a hand. “What kills me the most is how everything is so... inconsistent. I hate lying.” She ignored the niggling feeling that, by leaving Elsa out of the discussion, she was maybe lying by omission. “I would rather not belong to the family than have this... tacked-on, second-thought existence where I don’t really fit in anyway.”

“That’s totally understandable,” Kristoff said. His voice seemed to take on a more vulnerable quality. At some point, Sven had crawled halfway up onto Kristoff’s lap. He ruffled the dog’s ears. “I... kind of chose something similar, in regards to my own family,” he said. “So I get where you’re coming from on that front. What’s going on with your... home life, uh, right now?”

Anna tucked his admission away to ask about later. He didn’t seem to want to get into his backstory at the moment. “Recently, my birth father got this burst of enthusiasm for being a ‘real family’ or some shit, so now he wants to go public and be this big family thing when it’s never been that way.” Anna chuckled. “It would be hilarious, how out of touch he is, except for how frustrating it is.”

“Are you planning on staying with them after you graduate?” From anybody else in her life, there would have been some kind of assumption in those words. From Kristoff, they were just a simple question. He was just some dude with a dog in his lap. He wasn’t assuming she’d stay. He wasn’t assuming she’d leave.

Anna shrugged. Frankly, she hadn’t really considered it. “I... don’t know. I have a bunch of college acceptance letters I need to answer, but I keep putting it off because I.... I know I can’t pull off any of these colleges without them. I don’t have the scholarships and drowning myself in debt sounds like hell to me.” Anna wrinkled her nose. “I actually really envy and admire you for pulling all this off,” she admitted.

“Thanks,” he said. A smile pulled at his cheeks from the prise. “You’re not obligated to stay if staying is just going to make you miserable,” he said. “It sounds like you’d rather try and swing it alone then keep on feeling like you owe them for their support.”

“Kind of?” Anna reached out and pet Sven, then wrestled with the dog for a minute to pull him into her own lap. “It’s more like... the longer I stay, the more I might as well just shrug and be their ‘real’ daughter, you know? How long do I claim I’m not before I’m just some reluctant adoptee who hates her parents or something? I already feel like I owe them for their support, and if a ‘real family’ is what he wants, then do I owe it to him to just go along with it?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, but I don’t think you have to put it on that kind of binary either.” He paused, fiddling with Sven’s tail. “You... you’re currently a kid, legally speaking. And, culturally, most people would say you’re a kid until you graduate high school and are eighteen, in general.”

“Yeah, I guess.” She nodded.

“ Kids need adults to raise them,” he said. “It’s one of those big societal things that holds civilization together: adults don’t just throw kids out to fend for themselves.” He scratched at his chin. Anna could tell he hadn’t shaved in a couple days. “So... I would say you don’t need to consider yourself in any sort of weird debt until you’ve graduated high school. However affair-awkward things are, your father owes it to you to raise you and take care of you until you can do so on your own.”

“And after that...?”

“Well after that it’s up to you,” Kristoff replied. “If you continue to accept his money and his care after you’re an adult, you’re kind of accepting a familial role in that regard. He might expect, and not unreasonably, that your perspective on being a ‘real family’ might change.”

Anna grimaced. “So... after graduation, I should leave?”

Kristoff was shaking his head before she finished speaking. “I’m not telling you to do anything in particular.” He laughed and it sounded a little bitter. “I feel barely qualified to be responsible for my own life-altering decisions. No way I’m taking charge of yours.” He paused and tilted his head. “Isn’t that what you want anyway? To kind of... take charge of your life? Make your own decisions, captain your own ship, all that?”

Sven shifted in her lap, placing his big head against her shoulder. He looked at her with big eyes, as though he were waiting on her answer too. It took significant effort for Anna to resist shrugging and saying, ‘I guess.’ In light of their conversation, that seemed too blithe. She cleared her throat. “Yeah. Um. Yes. No matter what I decide to do... I want it to be a real, genuine decision.” Reflexively, she frowned. “Not something I choose because it’s the default, or I’m backed into a corner or... or that’s what someone else thought would be best for me.”

Every time she saw Elsa, Anna had something she wished she’d said before they’d broken up. It was a steadily uncomfortable feeling.

Kristoff fiddled around with the controller a bit, picking a new character and changing the color five times, then repeating the process with a new character. “Family stuff is hard,” he said at length. “I’ve clearly made some choices that put me at a certain distance from mine, but that doesn’t mean it’s the right decision for you or anything.” He sighed. “I’m here if you wanna talk about it, but... beware of romanticizing my infinitely enviable life.” He stuck his tongue out at her, but his words were clearly more than a joke. “The ‘start from nothing’ escape plan isn’t easy, and I’m not even talking about money logistics stuff. I mean... it’s lonely.”

Anna would have hugged him, but she couldn’t reach around Sven. She settled for kind of patting him on the shoulder. He smiled at the gesture. “Thanks,” he said. “Just... we can talk more about it later if you want, but just know that, no matter how awkward things are with your interim family or whatever, you will miss them if you choose to jet.”

She sighed and tried to play around Sven before gently pushing him off her lap so she could reach her controller with two hands and change characters. Sven heaved a dramatic sigh for a dog, then settled in on the bowed couch between her and Kristoff. “Yeah...” she sighed. “Why is everything complicated?”

“Because most Link players don’t balance using his long and short-range attacks,” Kristoff replied, noting her choice of character.

“Whatever,” she said, laughing. “Lemme just boomerang-sword-bomb-arrow you into the ground first.”

“Don’t forget the hookshot.”

*

“Anna, wait a moment!”

She froze on the stairs and turned around. “What are you doing home so early?” She tried to keep the question neutral-to-surprised, but it came out a little harsher than she intended.

Adgar blinked. “Oh, well I keep meaning to initiate a healthier work-life balance, so I finally decided to just take the plunge and start going home earlier one day a week.” He smiled. “And, since I’m home early, I was able to grab the mail for once. You’ll never guess what came!”

Anna took a few steps down the stairs. For some reason, her first guess had been that Elsa sent a letter, except that idea was like a decade out-of-date. “What showed up?”

He turned around and started walking toward the kitchen. “Well, a few reminders from colleges, for one. We’ll have to sit down sometime soon and start talking about where you’ll be accepting.”

“Yeah...” she said, frowning behind his back.

“And... your third quarter report card came in!” Adgar sounded giddy.

“I assume it’s good?” Anna asked, walking to stand beside him at the counter. She picked up the opened envelope and pulled out the paper inside.

“See for yourself,” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder as she unfolded the results.

Anna raised her eyebrows as she skimmed down the page. “Oh hey,” she said, “Straight As.”

Adgar enveloped her in an awkward hug. “Congratulations, Anna,” he said. “You’ve worked so hard, and I’m proud of you.”

Despite her misgivings, Anna slowly relaxed and hugged him back. “Thanks,” she said. His praise felt tacked on; it didn’t seem to stick to her very well. She’d seen him pour that same praise on Elsa, but it had never really been for her. Anna set the feeling aside and smiled. She couldn’t deny being pleased with herself, and that was more important than familial awkwardness. She’d never been inherently talented at school stuff, but she really, honestly, had been working hard that quarter. She deserved those As, and fucking finally too.

He gave her a quick squeeze before letting go. “I’m so lucky to have two brilliant daughters,” he said.

Anna cooled. Her smile disappeared as she yanked out of his embrace. “Stop that,” she snapped. She’d wanted this acknowledgement like nothing else as a child. Even after her mother died, she was still open to it, but he hadn’t extended it then and she certainly didn’t want it now.

Adgar deflated as he took a step back. “Anna...” He sighed. “How about we grab dinner out, just the two of us. We can celebrate and maybe talk about—”

“No! Stop that too!” She stormed around to the other side of the counter. “Just... stop saying shit like that!” For a moment, the offer had her imagining a more normal past arrangement. Plenty of kids with divorced parents had a ‘dinner night’ with the parent they didn’t live with. In another life, she would have loved having a bit of time to spend with him: a normal dinner out to catch up and show off her report card...

That wasn’t the life she was living, however. Anna squared her shoulders and faced Adgar directly.

“I’m sorry, Anna,” he said. Voice somber, it had none of the shallow happiness from before. “I know that my efforts are, by and large, too little too late.” He sighed. “I would give anything to do this all over and make it right, but... this is my attempt to right those wrongs now, in the present.”

Anna drew a breath to interrupt him, but couldn’t quite bring herself to do it. Hearing him confess that he had been wrong  was deeply overdue, but compelling.

“I cannot correct the past,” he continued, “but right now I just hope that, before you go off to college, we can be made right again.” He smiled. “Dad and daughter. I was wrong to let other factors intervene in the past. You deserve a place next to me no different than Elsa’s, and—”

“No!” Hearing Elsa’s name broke the spell. Anna recoiled and shook her head violently. “You don’t get to change your mind plop me into your ‘daughter’ slot just because she’s not here right now,” she said.

Adgar shook his head. He took a step forward. “No, Anna. That’s not it at all—”

She waved a hand. “No, I know you’re not trying to get me to replace her or whatever, but...” Anna heaved a sigh, trying to reach for words that made sense. “But... this... you’ve always  offered this validation to Elsa. The whole time. It’s always been there for her.” Anna swallowed hard. “You mean well, but... you can’t just show up and be proud of me now. You can’t do that and expect everything to be fine. Not after I’ve dragged myself all the way here on my own.”

Anna could remember being ten, eleven, and sitting at her mother’s kitchen table. Her mom would ask what kind of homework Anna had while she made dinner and they’d talk about her day. If Anna needed help, her mom would try to provide it.

Anna felt, suddenly and decisively, that if parents didn’t ask about their kids’ classes and homework, they didn’t have the right to be proud of any good grades.

Adgar regarded her steadily for several long moments. With slumped shoulders, he leaned against the countertop. “I... I suppose I can’t really blame you for that,” he said. “I’ve made so many mistakes... and I’m so sorry for hurting you like I have.” His breathing shook and for one terrifying beat Anna thought she might have made him cry.

He continued after a pause. “I should have been more sensitive about approaching a renewed familial relationship with you. Your reservations are understandable.” He smiled to himself, and not kindly. “I just want you to know that I will be here and I will always be open to coming together as a family.”

Anna waited a moment, but he seemed done. She took a deep breath. “Thank you,” she said. Not for the offer, but for the apology. At various points in her life, Adgar had apologized for instances of his absence. He had always been ‘sorry’ to miss her riding competitions and ‘sorry’ to only visit on her birthday, but he had never before been truly sorry for being simply so wrong in how he’d treated her, so absent overall.

A tightness in Anna’s chest loosened. She sighed and let her shoulders drop their tension. “I’ll think about it,” she said.

Relief flooded Adgar’s voice. “Thank you,” he said. “I... I’m going to do a little work from the office now.” He paused. “It is a very nice report card,” he said, “regardless of everything else going on.”

She just nodded in response as he excused himself. After he shut the door to the office, she slumped against the kitchen counter. She hadn’t been lying. She really would think about it, and she had been. As atypical and fucked up as her relationships with Adgar, Idunn, and Elsa were, she did  care about them. They weren’t her family, but they might as well have been, for all intents and purposes.

It wasn’t as if there was anybody else alive to claim that position.

Anna grabbed a glass of water and made her way upstairs to her room. Her room in her home.

She sighed as she sat in her chair and thought about Elsa, her calculus homework, and whether or not it was possible to want two completely opposite things.

Because the confrontation with Adgar made two things clear: Anna could push him away and hurt his feelings, but she did  care about him and Idunn. She also, without a doubt in her mind, did not want the familial offer he had extended her.

Chapter Text

Anna took a deep breath and checked her purse one last time. No point in forgetting something and having to traverse the house again.

Her hand hovered over the doorknob. She pulled it back and strained her ears, listening for Elsa.

Nothing.

Anna sighed, then opened the door. She made her way downstairs, then paused. She could see that the living room was clear, but someone was in the kitchen; she could hear them.

At the bottom of the stairs, she started going straight for the front door, then stopped. “This is ridiculous,” Anna muttered. Her car was in the garage. Under their terms of ‘avoid each other to keep things easier,’ Anna had planned to go out the front door and open the garage from the outside so she could get her car and leave.

But there was a perfectly good door to the garage in the kitchen. Anna turned around.

Even if it was Elsa in the kitchen, their avoidance was just getting silly at this point.

But even though she was trying to be more reasonable about this, she couldn’t stop listening to whoever was in the kitchen as she drew closer, trying to figure out who was cooking.

A split-second before she walked in, Anna recognized the humming as Elsa’s. She even recognized the song.

Anna stopped just outside the room. She leaned against the wall and fought the impulse to close her eyes because it would be too easy to forget herself if she did. If she closed her eyes, she could pretend she was back in her room and Elsa was too. They could just be sitting, doing homework, and Elsa might be humming.

Or maybe they would be lying in bed together, hair splayed over their pillows, and Anna would be tracing circles on Elsa’s hip.

Maybe—

Anna opened her eyes and sighed. She did that a lot lately.

This was why they had this plan in place.

“Hello?” Elsa stopped humming. She’d probably heard Anna sigh.

“Hey there.” Anna stepped around the corner, trying to push recent memories out of mind. “I’m just headed out.” She glanced toward the door to the garage.

“Oh, cool.” Elsa turned back to her mixing bowl. “I’m baking some cookies.”

Anna’s eyes slid back toward Elsa, now that she was looking away. “Huh.” She took a few steps paused on the far side of the counter, by the garage door.

They were supposed to keep things simple, shallow.

“Any particular reason?” Anna asked. She tilted her head. “You were never much for the kitchen.”

Elsa slowed her mixing and glanced over her shoulder. “Oh, um...” She hesitated. It was the most innocuous question, but nothing between them was ever kept to face value. “Its the dorm kitchens,” Elsa continued. “They’re terrible and sticky and disgusting and I hate them. So, since I’m home and not busy, I had this urge to do something in the kitchen.” She shrugged. “Cookies are simple enough.”

Anna nodded. And... as frustrating as everything was, as much as their distance was necessary, was wise, it felt good to be around Elsa. It felt right .

And she was eighteen now.

Surely, if there was room for things to change, she could at least try. Prod the fire and see if sparks flew.

Anna took a step forward. “Can I try some of the dough?”

Elsa turned around all the way. Her lips tightened, but it looked like she was holding back a smile. “Sure.”

“Thanks.” Reaching forward, Anna scooped a finger through the mixing bowl. She pulled out a glob of cookie dough. “Do you need any help with the cookies?” Anna asked. She licked the dough off her finger. Prior plans with Kristoff felt distant.

Elsa’s eye twitched. She set the bowl down firmly. “And then what, Anna?”

“Uh... we bake them, then eat them?” Anna stepped back.

“No!” Elsa put a hand to her mouth after the outburst. Softer, she continued, “You know what I’m talking about. I mean what—what happens if we do this? We keep a distance for a reason. If we break that decision, then, then...”

“Then what?” Anna shrugged. “I’m eighteen now,” she said earnestly. “I’m graduating high school in a couple weeks. We don’t—”

“ We do .” Any hint of Elsa’s smile had vanished. She sighed. “Just... even with that now... what do you propose?” She took a step forward and grabbed Anna’s shoulder. “We have nowhere to go from here. We have no roadmap and as much as it worked before, secretly dating or whatever, it isn’t sustainable.”

Anna felt stupid for just being happy that Elsa was touching her shoulder. “I don’t know.” Out of habit, she leaned into that hand. At least Elsa didn’t pull back. “I don’t know but you said before that we were worth it, worth the risk and the scandal and everything. We took a chance and, until the end there, things were good , Elsa.” She put her hand over Elsa’s, holding it closer against her skin. “We can be that way again.”

“Yes...” Elsa sounded breathless. Her hand tightened around Anna’s shoulder. “And it really was good, Anna, but... we can’t.” Her voice cracked. “And I would by lying if I said I didn’t want to get that back again. I do. I want it so bad.”

Anna’s heart pounded in her ears. She half-expected Elsa to lean in and kiss her like normal.

“But we don’t have a roadmap,” Elsa said. “We don’t have a plan—”

“ Then let’s make a plan!” Anna growled.

Elsa’s face fell. “It can’t be done. There is no path to what we want from each other that doesn’t ruin other relationships in the process.”

Anna stared at her. She stepped back and her shoulder slipped out of Elsa’s grasp. Silence welled between them until she thought she might drown in it. Finally, she whispered, “What if I found one, truly. Would you take my hand and walk it with me?” She swallowed a lump in her throat. “Or are you just done? Are we actually over, and you just can’t say it?”

Elsa blinked. For a long, dangerous second, Anna wondered if, in some universe, she was happier without Elsa at all, if she were just better off without her life revolving around a girl too afraid of herself to let them reach out to one another and find a way to just be.

Then, slowly, Elsa nodded. “I would go with you if you had a plan” she said. “It sounds... impossible, but there’s nothing I want more.”

Nodding, Anna took a few steps back. Back into distance, back into reality. The kitchen seemed to blur back into focus around her. “I’ll see you around then.”

“Yeah...” Elsa seemed troubled.

Anna turned to leave.

Elsa grabbed her hand.

“I’ve handled this badly,” she said, speaking quickly, “but I hope you never doubt that I tried. I always tried.”

And then Anna wasn’t sure who started it, who stepped forward first, but they closed the distance somehow with a soft kiss. Elsa’s lips felt like yesterday’s dreams, and she kissed with a familiarity that made Anna’s heart ache.

Before she could hurt any worse, she tore herself away. Her eyes found Elsa’s. They’d been distant for a reason; it was torture to get a taste of what had been without the promise of more to some.

“I’ll try too,” Anna said, then ran out of the kitchen.

*

“And you’re sure you’re not bored?”

Anna shook her head. “Nope. This is fun.”

Kristoff gave her a weird look, then shrugged. “Thanks for driving me, but you don’t need to pretend. I mean, we’re going grocery shopping .”

“Groceries are fun.”

He snorted and compared his coupons to the canned goods on the shelf. “If you think grocery shopping is fun, adulthood is gonna be a wild ride.”

“It’s just nice to, you know, do normal stuff?” Anna shrugged.

He raised his eyebrows as he grabbed some beans. “Do you not go grocery shopping with your, uh, guardians?”

Anna paused. They walked a few paces down the aisle. “Not really, actually. They usually run out on quick errands solo, and they’re both so busy with their jobs that they like to go together, when there’s time, as a sort of date.”

“That’s married life for you.”

They chatted about groceries, coupons, and domesticity until Kristoff had collected all his food for the week. On their way to the front, he hefted a bag of dog food into the cart too.

“There we go,” he said. “Gotta keep Sven fed with more than just my table scraps.”

Anna glanced at the price. “How long does a bag last him? He’s such a big dog.”

“Not long enough.” Briefly, Kristoff looked tired. “But I’ve bought Sven food when I couldn’t buy my own. Don’t see sense in stopping now.”

She didn’t comment as they went through the checkout and back to her car. They loaded the groceries with bit of small talk over the weather, but fell into silence again when she started the car. Glancing over, Kristoff seemed oddly small without Sven by his side. The dog came in the car with them almost no matter where they went, if Kristoff was driving.

They were halfway back to his apartment when he said, “I left home when I was 18. I had my car, some cash, and Sven.” He laughed. “It probably sounds dumb, but I needed that dog by my side.”

“It’s not dumb.” Anna glanced over and smiled encouragingly.

“Thanks,” he said. “I guess this is a good time to explain that I was raised in a weird new-age, semi-Nordic religious commune.”

Anna blinked, but kept her eyes on the road. “Wait what?” If she hadn’t been driving, she would have stared at him.

“That’s probably how I would react too,” he said. “It was weird and involved rocks and trolls.”

“... Trolls?”

“Trolls.” He didn’t elaborate on what, exactly, that meant. “Also a lot of rocks in circles. Musical traditions. The full cult experience.”

Anna really wished she wasn’t driving. She would have tried sending a bunch a nonverbal cues to indicate acceptance. As it was, she said, “Okay. Rocks and music are cool.”

“I’m still in contact with my family,” he said, “but things are... strained. My Grand Pappy, he’s kind of the communal grandfather-patriarch figure? He took it the hardest when I left. I started questioning things when I was 17. Things came to a head about this pseudo-arranged marriage—”

“You were engaged?!” Anna slammed the breaks, seeing a red light a little late.

Kristoff chuckled. “It involved moss and rocks when I was like five.” He shrugged. “I wasn’t interested when the time to actually do it came around. That and other factors led me to leave.”

“I would hug you,” she said, “but I’m driving and that isn’t safe.”

“I’ll accept a rain check on the hug. No worries.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, briefly. “It’s been hard, but I prefer life out here to life back there. Even if I don’t really talk to people much.”

Anna shook her head. “You... you’ve clearly risen to the occasion,” she said. “You keep yourself and Sven fed, you’re going to college, you have an apartment... You have a super awesome friend who would never judge you for your background. Plus, family stuff is complicated.” She sighed. “It’s super complicated and sometimes things are just strained. I still believe you’ve held up marvelously, all things considered.”

“Thanks,” he said. Something in his tone shifted, and Anna felt as though he was reading something in what she’d said that didn’t apply to him. “Is there something else going on with you at home?” he asked. “You seem a little off today and I’m kind of done talking about myself for the next week.”

She smiled tightly. “Same old, same old.” Things with Elsa were always complicated. They just generally didn’t feel quite this shitty. “I just keep feeling as though everything would be better if I were gone, but we’re all just just being too polite to admit I should leave. I keep wondering if it’s okay to self-approve myself to just go.”

“Everything would be better?” He sounded mildly skeptical. “Who exactly benefits if you leave?”

She snorted as she pulled into Kristoff’s apartment complex. “Everyone.” Herself, for one. “I would probably be happier away from this environment where I’m stuck in this half-role forever.” Idunn too. “My father’s wife wouldn’t be constantly stuck with the reminder of her husband’s infidelity by my presence.” Adgar himself, even if he might disagree. “My father could sort out his mid-life crisis and would honestly be better off without me to distract and complicate things.” And Elsa, most of all. “And Elsa would finally be able to relax in her own damn house instead of worrying about all the drama with me.”

“Who’s Elsa?”

All the blood drained from Anna’s face. She turned to face him, horrified at her slip. Briefly, she was grateful she’d already parked the car, or else she’d have crashed it into something.

Kristoff frowned and leaned forward. “Are you okay?” A pause. “You really don’t look okay. Look, we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. Honestly. I’m just worried about you.”

And Anna would have taken him up on the offer to leave it be, she really would have. Except she’d driven out to see him with Elsa’s kiss replaying over and over in her mind. She closed her eyes, leaning back against her car seat. For a moment, the memory welled up again and she could almost feel Elsa’s lips against hers.

“Elsa is my father’s daughter by his wife,” she said. “She’s older by a bit less than two years, and she’s my half-sister.”

“Huh. That must make things a bit awkward.” He hopped out of the car. Anna opened her eyes and got out too, feeling oddly light at having said half of the truth. It was still more than she’d told anyone.

“Definitely,” she said, getting the groceries out of the back.

On their way up the stairs, Kristoff asked, “Why haven’t you brought her up before?”

Anna immediately changed the subject to how Kristoff organized his groceries, which was fairly topical. There was only room for one person in his kitchen area, however, so she ended up sitting on the couch and petting Sven as he put the food away.

For a moment, everything felt normal.

But Kristoff’s question hung in the air, asked and unanswered.

Anna took a deep breath. She was halfway there already. Might as well.

“Because she’s also my ex-girlfriend,” she said.

Kristoff turned away from the pantry, frowning. “Who are you—” His eyes widened. “Wait. Are you saying...”

Anna nodded.

“Oh.” Kristoff blinked.

Her nose prickled and she briefly fought the impulse to cry. Her thoughts raced through arguments on whether or not Kristoff would judge her, which would be understandable. On the other hand, he hadn’t exactly grown up with standard cultural mores, so maybe not.

He nodded slowly as he turned to put the rest of the groceries away. “You sound like you’re in an awkward situation.”

Anna laughed so hard she coughed, concerning Sven. Even with the anxiety, her chest felt lighter. She hadn’t thought opening up about the secret would feel so freeing. Even if Kristoff judged her and never wanted to see her again, she’d gotten to say what was happening out loud, to someone who wasn’t at all connected to the whole mess.

He put the last item in the fridge and walked over. Sitting on the couch beside her, he ruffled Sven’s ears before turning toward her. “Anna,” he said, “You’re really not okay right now, are you?”

Anna shook her head. “I’m in a really unhealthy living situation of my own doing. It’s complicated and I don’t even know if I want to leave, really.” She leaned back and Sven jumped halfway onto the couch so she could keep petting him. “It’s painful to be there when part of me wants, so badly, to just GO, to start over somewhere and try to find a place where I can be myself.” She paused. “But part of me also wants to come up with a plan so Elsa and I can be together.”

“Um...” Kristoff made a face somewhere between confusion and concern. “Catch me up on what’s going on?”

“ We dated before she graduated high school and it was good. Legitimately good. Since then we agreed to be distant to protect ourselves and then recently—” She felt a little guilty for neglecting to say it was earlier that afternoon. “—we kind of opened things up again and we can’t be together unless we come up with an actual plan as to how that’s doable without living a secret forever from her parents, who are the only people who really know we’re sisters, really.” Anna sighed. “So I’m caught between trying to figure out a plan and wondering if I should just go. Maybe I want to go and not worry about it. Or at least get space if I’m going to worry about it.”

He considered her a moment. To her relief, he didn’t exude any judgement. “So you’re leaning towards leaving?”

She hesitated. Agreeing to that statement felt oddly final, as though she were committing to an irreversible shift by doing so. “What do you think I should do?” she said at length

He smiled at her, a little sadly. “I am reluctant to give an answer like that,” he said. “But... from what you’ve told me, I wouldn’t discourage you from trying to leave.” A pause. “When do you graduate anyway?”

“Just a couple weeks.” Elsa’s college did a strangely late Spring Break. Anna’s high school had off almost a month ago.

He sighed. “Well... now would potentially be a good time to have a conversation about that. I really don’t want to give life advice, but... it might be good for you to get out of the house, out of your isolated family bubble for a bit.” He frowned. “And it doesn’t have to be permanent. Even if you just move out and work for a year and decide you want to go back, you could talk to them about it, maybe.”

“Minus the part where I dated their daughter?” Anna asked, voice dry.

“I’d probably avoid that fact,” Kristoff said. He bit his lip. “And Anna, just so you know, I am concerned for you, but... I’m not judging you either. Things have been complicated and I can’t speak for how you got to where you are.”

Anna swept him up in as big as hug as she could manage. Sven joined in too. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Pulling back, she glanced at her watch out of habit and winced. “It’s about time for me to get back though,” she said.

“This was good though,” he said. They stood up. Regarding her a moment, he added, “No matter where you go, stay in touch?”

“Absolutely,” Anna said.

Driving home in her car, she knew there was no place she could go that would lose her Kristoff’s friendship. But she kept wondering how far she needed to go in order to stop being Elsa’s sister. If she could shed that label, truly and entirely, then she could maybe, just maybe, come back and just be her girlfriend.

She got home to find Idunn waiting in the kitchen, sipping her coffee.

“ We need to talk,” Idunn said, setting her coffee down on the kitchen table. “Have a seat.”

Chapter Text

“We need to talk,” Idunn said, setting her coffee down on the kitchen table. “Have a seat.”

Anna swallowed a lump in her throat. Her footsteps sounded loudly against the tile as she walked over. “What about?”

The chair seemed to screech as she pulled it out across from Idunn, but Anna kept her breathing in check. Pretending normalcy had always been easy for her. She could handle this. “Did something happen?” She frowned in concern. Genuine concern. Maybe something really did happen.

“You need to figure out what you’re doing.” Idunn didn’t sound angry, but she didn’t sound pleased either.

Terse. Anna settled on terse.

“Figure out what?” Whatever was going on, she would find a way to get it back under control.

Idunn sighed. “You haven’t broken any rules because we haven’t set any, but that doesn’t mean we’re not having problems. You’re out all the time and your stories are getting repetitive. You won’t pick a college. You’re noticeably absent whenever Elsa is home  from college.” Something in her eyes flashed. Or maybe Anna imagined it.

“Adgar is, one way or another, your father.” A pause, awkward and tense with history. “I understand that you’re reluctant to let him fully adopt that role, but... concessions and compromise may be in order.” Idunn frowned and sat forward. “I’m not here to mother you, but I’m hoping a push might give you cause to figure out what you’re doing.”

Anna’s heart pounded in her chest. The list stung a little, like the sip of wine she’d tried once and grimaced at. “Maybe it won’t matter soon.”

Idunn stilled. She regarded Anna for a moment before saying, “What do you mean?”

“I’m leaving,” Anna said, before she could overthink it or cut herself off. A beat later, she grimaced. “I’m going to leave,” she amended.

A series of emotions flickered across Idunn’s face, but Anna couldn’t read them. Several long seconds passed before Idunn’s eyebrows drew together, though Anna couldn’t tell if it was with disapproval or frustration.

“Elsa left today,” Idunn said casually. “She bumped her flight up and said it was urgent.” Nothing about her tone indicated a non-sequitur.

“What?” Anna sat back. “Wait, she was supposed to leave in another couple days. Why did she go back early?”

“I was hoping you could tell me.”

Chills crawled up Anna’s back. She crossed her arms to help cover the goosebumps that ran down her arms. “She didn’t tell me anything about it,” Anna said. That much was true. Sticking to carefully selected truths was starting to feel like a good idea.

“Since graduation, you and Elsa have been so odd.” Idunn stood up and stretched before walking to the sink. “You’re continuously avoiding each other, except for when you’re not and suddenly you’re polite and fine?” Idunn turned on the water and rinsed her mug. “Fine enough,” she added.

“People are complicated,” Anna said. “Stuff happens. We’re teenagers.” Generalizations seemed like a safe route. Make the Elsa stuff come across like standard sitcom drama.

Idunn turned around and frowned. “Even when things seem normal, there’s always something awkward and tense about you.” She didn’t even acknowledge Anna’s comment. “More than anyone I’ve seen before in Elsa’s life, you were her best friend, her closest confidant.” Idunn leaned back against the counter. “And clearly that isn’t gone. Sometimes I see you two and you’re thick as thieves together, like nothing ever went wrong.”

Eying her across the room, Anna shrugged. “What makes you think something went wrong?” As the words came out of her mouth, it occurred to Anna that, maybe, she didn’t really want Idunn to answer that question.

“I heard you two shout at each other, briefly, in the kitchen earlier.” Idunn’s voice sounded excessively casual, devoid of any tonal markers to tell Anna what else she was thinking.

Anna felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. “Yeah?” It took all of her willpower to tramp down any nervous habits. No biting her lip, no wringing her hands, and no quickening of the breath.

“As soon as you left, Elsa came in with this emergency and said she needed to bump her flight up immediately. She put the cookies in the oven and was gone before they were done baking.” Idunn’s voice turned distinctly cool. “And I won’t try to figure out if what she said is the truth or not. I get the sense there are more hidden and complicated truths to uncover.”

They gazed at one another for a long moment. Anna’s throat felt tight as Idunn asked, “What is going on between you and Elsa?”

Anna’s heart raced. She briefly wondered if it was possible to have a heart attack at eighteen.

Something in Idunn’s eyes seemed familiar and searching. The set of her mouth reminded Anna of a teacher who asks a question they already know the answer to.

And, somehow, that made everything easier. That she’d told Idunn she was leaving felt distant and relevant all at once.

Anna took a deep breath that soothed the ache in her throat and chest. If Idunn knew, or at least suspected, then all Anna had to do was control how she confirmed things, or didn’t.

She chose her words with care. “You always used to tell Elsa that you wanted her to be able to choose what kind of relationship we wanted together, that you didn’t want to push sisterhood on us, unwanted. As I understand it, that, among other reasons, was a large part of the justification for the initial distance between us as children. You didn’t want to foist something complicated on us, that way we could choose when we got older.”

Idunn tilted her head. “Yes...” She seemed puzzled by the direction Anna had taken things in.

“Well... we made our choices,” Anna said. “We chose something... a little wrong.”

Idunn took a sharp breath.

“We chose it a little early,” Anna hurried onward. “I need this space and I’m leaving for a lot of reasons, but core among them is this: I don’t want to be Adgar’s daughter and I don’t want to be Elsa’s sister.”

Exhaling slowly, Idunn closed her eyes for a long pause. She didn’t seem angry, however, maybe just... resigned? She cleared her throat. “Are you saying that you and Elsa...?”

“I’m not saying anything,” Anna said carefully. A fierce blush invaded her cheeks, but her voice sounded cool, controlled, and distant. “I just... I graduate soon. I’m going to be getting my affairs in order. As your... ward, for the time being, I was hoping you could help me one last time. Help me get set up to go.”

Idunn’s expression pinched in concern. Anna’s heart lifted at the thought that, after her all-but-confession, Idunn might still be concerned for her.

“I... I love you,” Anna added. Because she did, although Idunn wasn’t her mother. “But I can’t stay here and... though I know it’s wrong to expect it, I need your help.”

Regarding her neutrally, Idunn seemed to come to some private conclusion. She nodded once to herself, then said, “Did Elsa ever tell you about her aunt?”

Anna blinked. Another non-sequitur, but she was getting used to rolling with them at this point. “Uh, Adgar’s sister? The lesbian?” Adgar had kept meaning to get her to visit, but the timing had never worked out since Anna had moved in.

“ My  sister, not his.”

“Oh, yeah.” Anna nodded. “She said, uh, you two had a falling out. It’s an awkward family thing?”

Idunn nodded again, but slower this time. She sat back down at the table. “When I was engaged to marry Adgar, my sister intervened and told me I would never be happy with him. She told me I was making a mistake. When I married him anyway, we had a falling out. We’ve never spoken since.” Idunn smiled oddly. “She really  hated him.”

Anna frowned, still trying to follow the reason for the change of topic. “Why’d she hate him? Why didn’t she want him to marry you?”

Idunn clasped her hands and gazed at a spot over Anna’s shoulder. “Earlier in our lives, we had chosen something... a little wrong.”

Anna’s jaw dropped open. “Are you saying that...?”

“I’m not saying anything,” Idunn replied carefully.

They looked at one another in silence across the table. Anna blinked and looked down after a moment. There was no way Elsa knew. She tried to imagine how Elsa would react to the revelation, but couldn’t come up with anything by the time Idunn started speaking again.

“How can I help you?” Idunn’s voice was distant, but not cold.

It took Anna a long couple seconds to realize what Idunn was talking about, to remember that she was leaving  and that’s what this conversation was about in the first place. She felt oddly understood as she said, “Help me break it to Adgar.”

Idunn raised an eyebrow. “Break what?”

“That I’m leaving,” Anna added quickly. A mild blush colored her cheeks. “Just that I’m leaving, and, um, the other reasons why. That I’m going back to Tennessee.” Plans formed in her head as she spoke. Conveniently, she’d had a call with Merida just a couple weeks ago. “I have experience as a stablehand, and there are a lot of horses down there.” She’d figure out a job. She’d figure out housing. “I know my mom had a few friends who might be willing to help me out.” She’d take a page out of Kristoff’s book and go to community college while she worked. “I’m going to decline my acceptances for the colleges I applied to. Or defer them. Something.” She wouldn’t have to give up the equine medicine plans she had. It would just take a little longer to make them happen. “I don’t have it all planned out, but... my choice is made.”

And, as she said it, Anna realized it was true. Really really true.

“And what is your plan regarding Elsa?”

Anna blinked. “Huh?”

Idunn leveled a stark look at her. “You’re not leaving just because of awkward father feelings.”

“I’m trying to... to give us another shot, I guess.” Feeling restless and exposed, Anna stood up and paced over to lean against the kitchen counter. “The plan is to leave, completely cut family ties here. Give me a chance to find and become myself.” She paused and stared down at her hands. “Also, so that maybe I can come back one day. And... and maybe then I can just be, um.” Idunn had expressed no judgement at all, but Anna blushed deeply as she muttered, “be Elsa’s girlfriend. Person.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she continued, “but... I feel like you and Adgar make more sense as mother and father-in-law figures than anything else. I just care about you too early, and Elsa and I aren’t a good fit right now.” She sighed. “And I know we might never be, but I’ve got to give us a shot and... and I’m just trying to help everyone?”

Anna’s throat tightened and, for a moment, she thought she might cry. She turned away and tried to force herself to focus on the corner of the oven.

She jumped with Idunn put a hand on her shoulder. “When will you be ready to talk to Adgar?”

Anna blinked and rubbed her eyes. “Tonight?” She felt monumentally tired, but the idea of dragging everything out further, of holding on to one more secret even another day, felt like vise around her chest.

Idunn raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?” Her tone betrayed no preference one way or the other.

Anna nodded. “Let’s... let’s just get it over with.”

“That... is prudent.” Nodding absently, Idunn took a breath and steadied herself. The habit reminded Anna of Elsa. “I will support you,” Idunn said. “Are you ready to go upstairs?”

Unsure if it was okay, hesitation weighed on Anna’s chest for a long moment before she turned toward Idunn and hugged her.

And it was so strange, in the moment, to realize she hadn’t had a hug like that, honest and protective, since her mother had died.

Despite all the awkwardness and newly dug-up secrets between them, Idunn hugged Anna right back. “It will be okay,” she whispered.

Anna believed her.

“Let’s go.”

*

Adgar refused to believe Anna at first.

When he finally did, Anna felt cruel.

“But... why?” He blinked at her, looking oddly young. “I want to do so much for you now, to change everything.”

Anna sighed. “Because I don’t want you to do any more.” She smiled sadly. “Despite our tensions, I recognize that you’ve done so much. I... I’m not really daughter material though, and I’m going to leave before you do more for me.”

Idunn leaned against Adgar’s shoulder and slipped a hand into his. “Sometimes the best way to support someone you care about is to support their decisions, even if they don’t make sense to you at the time.”

Adgar looked at Anna, expression pained.

Anna looked at Idunn and thought about her sisters.

Idunn looked at Adgar in a way that made love seem complicated.

“There will always be a place for you here,” Adgar said at length. The vulnerability she’d seen on his face was starting to withdraw.

“Thank you,” Anna said. And she wanted to leave it at that. But she couldn’t slam the door shut, at least not any more than she already was. “Maybe... maybe someday, if I have the right way to return, I’ll come back for it.” She hesitated, then added, “You’re both good people. And I care about you. That—that’s part of why I’m leaving.”

Idunn smiled politely and nodded to Anna in encouragement.

Adgar exhaled breathily and ran a hand through his hair. “We... I had all these plans...” He wouldn’t look at her.

Anna sighed. “Plans... don’t always work out.”

And she knew that going into this, but... if she couldn’t work out this alternative path to becoming family, the secrecy and eternal half-step from Elsa wasn’t worth trying to stay for. It was a long shot, but she’d rather leave and lose them all than stay and maintain such an agonizing status quo.

Plans didn’t always work out, but Anna was reconciled to every possibility this one held.

“How can we help?” Adgar said, earnest.

Anna blinked and immediately frowned. Pulling away from their help, which she couldn’t currently return as familial affection, was half the reason she was leaving.

Idunn seemed to understand. She placed a hand on Adgar’s shoulder to still his immediate response to Anna’s frown. “Think of this as a graduation present, one last gesture of goodwill.” She paused, reading Anna’s face further. In a drier tone, she said, “A bad takeoff is worse than no takeoff at all.”

After considering for a moment, Anna nodded. “That... that makes sense.”

“Keep the car,” Adgar said immediately. “It... it’ll keep you going for a while.”

The conversation turned safe and technical. They discussed, relatively calmly, logistics, parting gifts, move-out dates, and Idunn knowing where to pick up moving boxes for free. Somewhere, in all of the negotiation, Anna’s heart started racing. For a few moments, she thought it was anxiety. She wondered if it was regret, and so soon too.

Then, unbidden, a smile kept trying to creep across her lips.

It was a half-formed plan, and potentially stupid. She might never work things out with Elsa and lose everything in the process.

But it was her  plan, her decision.

She’d spent so long living with decisions made for her, about her. Her choices might mean taking painful responsibility for them later, but the threat failed to override the intoxicating lure of the choice itself.

And although Elsa had never tried to make sure Anna understood her decisions, Anna would ensure she didn’t fall into that same trap. Even before she got to her room that night, she was already penning the letter in her head. One last letter, as unexpected as the first one Elsa had sent to her, all those years ago.

Chapter Text

Decision made, Anna managed all her preparations and arrangements more deftly than Idunn would have thought possible. She packed her boxes without prompting. Anna mentioned once over dinner that she’d figured out both employment and housing concerns. When Adgar worried, Anna even said she’d gotten her car tuned up to prep for the road trip.

Idunn didn’t say much. Even when Anna had packed up her car and was getting ready to head out on her road trip, Idunn found she didn’t have much to say.

She was worried, yes, but worried in the same way she’d be concerned about Mulan or Aurora, or one of her friends’ children.

Anna would probably be fine.

And if she ran into more than a reasonable amount of hardship, well, she’d probably be alright. Struggle built character. Difficult decisions grew determination.

“Is that everything from the house?” Idunn asked.

Anna nodded as she came down the stairs, carrying her stuffed dog. “Yep. I just finished packing the car. I have more room than I thought I did, actually.” She smiled at the stuffed animal. “So I figured I could bring along some road trip company.”

Idunn smiled. “That seems prudent.” She hesitated, then took a step forward as Anna reached the bottom of the stairs. “Have a safe trip,” she said.

They hugged, awkward and brief. Anna bit her lip, then pressed an envelope into Idunn’s hand. “Would you... would you give this to Elsa?”

She’d handed over a plain envelope, thin and simple. Idunn was, briefly, glad that Anna hadn’t asked her to deliver a small novel. For what she planned, the shorter the better.

“I can,” she answered.

They stood in silence for a long moment. Idunn wondered if she’d look at this young woman as her daughter in another life. If maybe she’d welcomed Anna into her home more wholeheartedly, maybe things would have been different.

Or, given what she’d discovered about Anna and Elsa, maybe it would merely have been more painful.

“Adgar is waiting outside for you,” she said. “He’s been checking your tire pressure.”

“Oh, I took care of that yesterday,” Anna said.

“Say thank you anyway.” Idunn wasn’t sure if that counted as motherly advice or not.

Anna blinked, then nodded. “I will.”

They hesitated again before Anna smiled. “Goodbye then.”

“Goodbye, Anna.” Idunn followed her to hold the door open. Anna shut the door behind her.

The house was quiet. As she went up the stairs, Idunn could hear Adgar arguing with Anna one last time. But she’d stood between them, mediating his reactions, since Anna’s first announcement. They both deserved one last chance to stand their ground. Adgar had agreed, but still didn’t like the idea. Anna was still leaving. Whatever their relationship, it was up to them to hash it out this last time.

At the top of the stairs, Idunn found herself drawn to Anna’s room. She opened the door and looked inside.

Anna had never been much of a neat freak, but the room had been cleaned from top to bottom. It felt almost sterile. No dust lined the bookcase, but no books either, save for a handful of placeholders left over from the room’s history as a guest room. The desk had been tidied up into something that more closely resembled a hotel feature than something for a bedroom. Anna had even rearranged the furniture back to how it had looked when she first moved in.

For an eerie moment in the clean room and the quiet house, it was as though Anna had never lived there at all.

Idunn shut the door and crossed the hall to Elsa’s room. If she’d gone downstairs, she knew she would find no pictures of Anna hanging on the walls. They’d just stopped changing them out after she moved in. At the time, it had seemed like the safest choice.

A glance in the girls’ bathroom revealed a clean vanity with only Elsa’s spare thingsleft on it.

Idunn heard Anna’s car start in the driveway. She stopped with a hand on Elsa’s doorknob and listened to the car drive off.

Before Adgar could come back inside, she let herself in to Elsa’s room.

Her first thought, upon going in, was to wonder how long Elsa had been so distant. Her room was tidy and fairly personal, but it felt generic. Now that she knew to look for it, the decor felt like a facade. On the surface, it seemed tidy and well enough, but this wasn’t Elsa.

She would reconnect with her daughter when she got back from college.

Idunn gripped Anna’s letter tighter.

Everything felt strange. Somewhere along the line, her life had gone off-track. She missed her daughter so much.

And they wouldn’t necessarily have to talk about the incest.

Not that it was quite incest.

Idunn didn’t like thinking of the word. She sat on the edge of Elsa’s bed and sighed. This is what she got for telling Elsa to choose her own damned path.

She looked down at the letter in her hand. She didn’t want to give it to Elsa personally. That would be an almost acknowledgement of her relationship with Anna. Idunn intended to talk to Elsa about the matter eventually, but not with the letter freshly delivered.

She didn’t want to just hold onto it either. It would be highly unfortunate if she left it out and Adgar picked it up somewhere.

Idunn opened Elsa’s bedside table and blinked. It was cluttered, or as close to clutter as Elsa was likely to get. Curious, she plucked out a few items and looked at them. A green button with a bit of glue on the back, scraps of a letter written in crayon, and a rock on a keychain that Idunn remembered Elsa carrying around all the time.

Thinking back, Elsa had stopped carrying it at the end of high school. Idunn frowned, trying to draw connections between the junk. A dozen folded notes all showed similar, hastily scrawled messages that read, ‘you can do it!’ and ‘you’re gonna make it through today.’ The handwriting seemed familiar. Idunn found a hair tie with a red lock wound around it and a small braid of what looked like horsehair. Buried at the bottom of the drawer was a picture of Anna and, beneath that, a snowflake locket.

Idunn picked it up by the chain, letting it swing and twist in the air for a few moments. When it stilled, she opened it up.

Age wasn’t kind to her eyes. She held it farther away in order to see a small picture of Elsa and Anna.

It looked so familiar her heart ached.

Idunn closed the locket and returned the items to the drawer just as she’d found them. She went to set the letter inside when her thumb caught the flap.

Anna hadn’t sealed the envelope.

Was that an invitation for Idunn to read?

She hesitated before tugging the paper out. She didn’t have much time before Adgar came looking for her, but it was a short enough letter.

Dear Elsa,

You said if I figured something out, you’d give this a shot with me. This is my plan and this is why I’m leaving, among other reasons. I probably sound like something out of a spy movie, but: Don’t contact me. I’ll contact you.

The only way we work out is if I can come back and not be your sister, so I’m leaving to figure out who that person is. You can’t help me or protect me or guide me this time. I’m on my own and I need to do this. We’re always leaving one another. I know you’ll understand why it’s my turn this time.

Please trust me. I’ve got this. Give it time. I’ll reach out for you when it’s good on my end. If it’s still good on your end, we’ll take it from there, together.

If not, you know I wish you well.

Always yours,

Anna Wintergale

Idunn sighed and closed the bedside drawer before she folded up the letter and slipped it back inside the envelope. She felt empty and younger than she had in ages. Still, her back creaked as she stood up and slipped the envelope inside one of Elsa’s desk drawers, away from the collection of artifacts in the bedside table.

Before she left Elsa’s room, her hand hovered over the doorknob. She’d made her choices. Part of being an adult meant living with them.

And if that meant partially lying to Anna in order to turn a suspicion into a confession, that was her choice.

Idunn was good at living with her own choices. She’d chosen, decades ago, to reject the burgeoning possibility between her and her sister. She’d had a choice between something a little wrong and something easier. It hadn’t seemed worth it then, to brave the hardships for the chance at something different.

“Earlier in our lives, we had chosen something... a little wrong.”

Anna's eyes had widened with shock and complete belief, because people always assume that other people are like them, would make the same choices as they would.

Idunn had mostly outgrown wondering, but when she did, she always wondered what would have happened if she made the choice Anna thought she had.

She loved Adgar, she really did, but regret and accepting responsibility for her actions were not mutually exclusive.

“Good luck, Anna,” she whispered before walking out the door and back to the life she’d chosen.

.

Section V End

Chapter Text

Epilogue I

.

“Sven wait!”

Sven did not wait. Anna laughed as he galloped over Kristoff, out of the car, and leapt into her open arms.

She hugged him tight. “I can see you missed me, didn’t you.” She ruffled his ears. “You big mutt, you’re even clumsier than the last time I saw you.”

“Sorry, sorry!” Kristoff jogged over, looking half apologetic despite his laughter. “We just really missed you, didn’t we, Sven!”

“I missed you too.” Anna smiled as Sven gave her a big lick across the face, then set him down gently. “Take turns, Sven,” she said. “You’re not the only one who gets a hug.”

Kristoff leaned down and wrapped his arms around her. “It’s so good to see you,” he said. Pulling back, he gave her shoulders a squeeze. “How old are you now? You have this aura of successful adulthood about you that wasn’t there the last time I visited.”

“I’m twenty-two,” Anna said. “There’s a whole Taylor Swift song about how hip and cool I am right now.”

He rolled his eyes and adjusted the bag on his shoulder. “Sure you are. Let’s see this hip and cool apartment of yours then. It’s seriously way too hot out here.”

“You call this hot?” Anna stuck her tongue out at him on their way up the stairs. “This is what I call a perfect day.”

“Maybe for you.”

Sven seemed to know which apartment was hers already as he ran up the stairs ahead of them and stopped in front of her door. “Good boy,” she called up. “You’re such a smart dog.”

“Oh come on, I could have done that if I wasn’t stuck carrying all of Sven’s stuff.”

“And how would you have known it was my door?” Anna asked as she fumbled with her keys.

“Uh, there’s a horseshoe tacked to the front?”

“Point taken.” Anna unlocked the door and threw it open. “Ta-da!” she said, gesturing grandly to the interior. “I proudly present my new apartment. Inside you will find one bedroom, no roommates, and a futon that should fit both you and Sven.”

“Nice place,” Kristoff said, dropping his bag inside the door. “Your first one without a roommate, right?”

“Yep!” Anna crashed down on the couch and patted the seat next to her. “That makes me a real adult and everything now, I’m pretty sure.” Sven made it to the seat before Kristoff did. Anna pulled him into his lap for cuddles and scratched behind his ears.

“I think you’ve been one since you left,” he said. He sat down on the other side of Sven and kept looking around the apartment. Anna had cleaned before he arrived, but she half expected to turn her head and see a mess she’d missed somehow. Kristoff seemed honestly impressed, however. “How’s your degree going? I know you sent an email but it was a little hard to follow.”

Anna walked him through the nonsensical path her education had taken, from community college to a state school, then a transfer when that wasn’t working out well. She had the sense that if Elsa or Idunn had been around, they’d have a much more efficient way of figuring all that out. But they hadn’t been, so Anna had made it all work out eventually.

“Horse medicine huh.” Kristoff scratched at his five o’clock shadow. “So, uh, does that pay well?”

Anna nodded. “Well enough for me. I’ve gotten by well enough in the past couple years. Basic stable work is, well, stable.” She laughed. “I’ve even made something of a reputation for myself. I have a good knack for training and keeping top competitive riders from letting the stress drive them crazy.”

Kristoff raised an eyebrow. “That’s a marketable skill?”

She shrugged. “It comes off better by word of mouth than by resume, but yeah. High-pressure athletes need maintenance almost as much as the horses do.” Her thoughts drifted briefly to Elsa and she gently tugged them back. “So how’re you doing up north, in the land of too-damn-cold?”

He chuckled. “Hey, it’s not like I live in Canada.” Sven rolled off of Anna’s lap and started sniffing around the apartment. “But things are going well enough.” He gestured around them grandly. “I mean, here I am, on a real, actual vacation. That’s gotta mean something, right? Things are going really well at the wilderness preserve. I give tours, talk sternly to people about leaving no trace, and get to take Sven on walks while I’m at work. Doesn’t get much better than that.”

“That’s a pretty sweet gig.”Anna smiled. “Plus, it totally fits you. Mountain Man Kristoff. Boldly exploring a thoroughly explored wilderness preserve with his fearless companion!” Sven looked over from where he was exploring the kitchen, then went back to his expedition.

“In the winter, I dress Sven up as a reindeer and make a few extra bucks having him give kids rides in a sleigh I rigged up.”

“I can’t tell you how many pony rides I do at fairs and such.” Anna smiled. “That sounds like a cute setup though. I’d love to see it.”

“You should come for a visit this winter,” he said. “Get a good dose of snow in you while you’re at it.”

“It snows here.”

“Not enough to be healthy.”

“I’ll dispute that,” Anna said, though she didn’t add anything else. They fell into a comfortable silence and watched Sven jump into a stuffed armchair. He struggled for a minute to fit himself on it comfortably before eventually finding a position with both his front legs on the floor and the rest of his body lying in the chair.

“So how’s the dating scene down south?”

If it had been anyone else asking, Anna would have taken it as a pickup line. Instead, she shrugged. “I’m single right now, but the ‘scene’ has treated me well a couple times.”

“So are you ever going to call her?” He raised an eyebrow.

She sighed, but it was a light sound. “Just gonna cut to the chase there, huh.”

“It’s not the sort of thing I’d bring up on skype, but... I have to ask, don’t I?” He tilted his head.

She sighed. “Of course you do. Well... I dunno. It’s gone in phases, I suppose. Phase one was right after I moved out. I kept feeling convinced that I was about to call, always on the verge of being ready to reach out to Elsa.” She chuckled. “That faded after a couple months. I started seeing a few people and kicked off phase two.”

“Phase two?” Kristoff patted his lap and Sven slipped off the chair to come sit in his lap.

“Being convinced I was absolutely never going to call.” Anna swept a few bangs away from her face. “That’s when I stopped bringing her up all the time when we were chatting.”

“I’d kind of wondered about that.” Kristoff regarded her oddly. “So... is phase two over then? You still haven’t brought her up, which is why I’ve been so curious lately.”

Anna hugged a knee to her chest. “I guess... I guess I’m in stage three now? In some ways, I would be okay never calling. I’ve disentangled myself from attaching my whole life to the Elsa issues and... I know I could just move on and keep on living my life. In a sense, I guess I have moved on.”

Kristoff raised his eyebrows. “You don’t want to call then?”

“I... didn’t say that.” Anna bit her lip. “I do still want to call. It’s just that I’ve reached a point now where I could choose not to and... and that would be okay too. And, since it’s taken so damn long to reach this point, and since... well a lot of reasons, I feel like I have an obligation to not call, to let it go.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Sven and Anna looked up at him in confusion. “Wasn’t this The Plan though? That you’d pull back and find yourself and shit and then, maybe, be able to pick things back up again one day. When it was a choice, not a compulsion.” He tilted his head again, looking oddly like Sven. “It sounds like you’re there now.”

Anna blinked. “I... I guess so.” She had, maybe, gotten too good at setting the Elsa issue aside. She felt slow to process what Kristoff was saying. She knew he’d bring it up, but hadn’t expected it to be so soon. “It’s not weird?” she asked.

“Still weird,” he said. “But... I’ve never judged. You listen to me talk and get conflicted about my ‘weird’ troll cult upbringing and haven’t judged once when I’ve brought up reclaiming some of the weird religious stuff. If you’re going to reach out and maybe strike up a relationship again with your half-sister, my main concern as your friend is that you, Anna Wintergale, are okay. That’s all I care about.”

Anna regarded him for a long, quiet moment. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “I... I know I’m okay about all this. It’s taken forever, but I’m ready.” She paused. “My main worry is that I’m gonna call too soon for her though.”

He sat forward and Sven took that as a signal to fall off of his lap. “That’s on her then,” he said. “You’ve clearly got your shit together, but pulling this off will be a 50/50 effort. If her half isn’t there, then... it’s just not. You move on and it’s basically the same if you hadn’t called at all.”

“I’ll be kind of in the area for a horse show in a couple months...” Anna trailed off.

“That’s too soon for winter.” Kristoff stuck out his tongue. “You’re gonna miss Sven’s reindeer outfit.”

“I’ll visit again in the winter,” she snapped. “But anyway, I was gonna ask you if I could drop by and see your log cabin mountain man place at the park.”

He smiled. “The square footage isn’t great, but the view is to die for.”

“I’ll go visit you and...” Her voice caught. She cleared it more easily than she remembered the feeling passing. “Maybe, if it still feels alright, I’ll give Elsa a call while I’m in town.”

“Sounds like a plan then.” He stretched out. “In the meantime, I need to know where your bathroom is. Also, you said we could try and get Sven to make friends with one of your horses.”

“Oh is that what I said?” Anna chuckled as she pointed him to the bathroom. “Did you ask Sven if he wanted to make friends with a horse?”

She couldn’t make out his answer through the bathroom door, but she rolled her eyes anyway. Sven, for his part, was lying splayed out on the kitchen floor. She poured him a bowl of water and sat beside him. “Have you ever met a horse, Sven?” she asked.

He nudged his nose against the water bowl, but made no move to get off the floor. She and Kristoff hadn’t talked about it, but he was getting on in the age department. He’d bounced around the apartment at first, but clearly needed a break.

“You’re gonna have to get moving soon enough,” she said. Looking out from the kitchen floor made her apartment seem like strange space filled with light and an odd sense of atmosphere. “Are you ready for an adventure, Sven?” she asked.

He perked up his ears and wagged the tip of his tail.

She smiled. “I’m always ready for an adventure.”

Chapter Text

Epilogue II

.

Elsa almost didn’t pick up the phone.

“One second,” she murmured to the first ring. She tapped out a few shortcuts in AutoCAD and drew a careful line on her tablet.

“I’m busy,” she said as the second ring lingered. She smiled as she finished another line, then set her pen down.

She picked up her phone in the middle of the third ring. “Hello?”

“Is this Elsa?”

The voice sounded familiar, but Elsa couldn’t place it. She walked over to the window and leaned against the sill. “This is she.”

She heard a catch of breath on the other end of the line. That, more than the words, felt familiar, a memory just out of reach. She was about to ask who this was when she heard a deep breath on the other end of the call, almost a sigh.

Elsa could hear a smile in the sound. She gripped the windowsill as she realized the speaker a moment before she heard:

“Hey, this is Anna.”

And suddenly the voice became familiar again, though shifted in tonality. Elsa heard herself say, “Oh, Anna. Hello,” on autopilot as she analyzed the seven words she’d heard Anna say so far. She sounded older, just a bit. As though at some point in the past few years she’d learned to breathe and slow down between her words.

Her thoughts felt impossibly fast, faster than her speeding heartbeat, as Elsa then briefly considered that ‘Oh, Anna. Hello,’ was an incredibly drab way of answering the phone after four years.

“It’s good to hear your voice,” Anna said. Nowhere in her voice could Elsa detect any judgement over how she’d answered the phone.

Elsa let out a breath she’d been holding. Anna had never been the judgemental type. “It’s good to hear you too,” she said.

“I’m in town,” Anna said. “Or at least close enough. There’s a riding thing going on nearby.” She paused, but only a beat. “Would you like to get lunch sometime?”

“Sure, when is good for you?” Elsa asked. After years of agonizing, this response felt simple. It was just lunch. No need for anxiety. Elsa ate lunch every day.

“Thursday?”

“One sec.” Elsa walked back across the room to check her calendar. She frowned. “That’s no good for me,” she said, “but I could do coffee that morning.”

Anna paused. Or maybe Elsa was just thinking too fast to accurately perceive how long it was taking Anna to respond.

“Okay, cool. That sounds good to me,” Anna said. “Where is good for you?”

“That place across from the bookstore,” she said. “In the old downtown?” It was only after she said it that she questioned the choice. Elsa went there every week, but the last time Anna had been was probably when they were on a date together. “Is that okay?” she added.

“Sounds great,” Anna said. “I’m just glad I know how to get there.” A pause. Elsa wondered if they were both thinking about their last date there. It hadn’t been an occasion of note, just... another perfectly average happy memory.

Maybe they’d make another one.

“I’ll see you at eight on Thursday,” Elsa said. She smiled.

There was a time when this call would have sent Elsa spiraling into a panic attack. That was not now. She would never have confessed to ‘waiting,’ per say, but... she was ready, had been ready. Just in case.

“I can’t wait,” Anna said.

“Me neither.” Elsa smiled. “Bye.”

“Bye.”

The phone clicked. She set it down and took several deep breaths, all the ones she’d held back from during the call.

It had been such a short call. Not even five minutes.

But the wait was over. Not that Elsa had been waiting. She’d seen a few other people. She’d gone through phases of expecting that Anna would never call, or expecting to get a call letting her know that Anna didn’t have a plan, that there was no reasonable way for them to give this another shot.

So not waiting, necessarily. But she’d always hoped, just a little, that Anna would succeed where she had failed.

Memory of the failure, of how badly she’d screwed everything up, pressed against her chest. But that was an old anxiety. Elsa breathed deeply, closed her eyes, and set it aside out of habit. When there was new material to feel anxious about, she’d deal with that then.

Until Thursday, she had work to get done. She took a drink of water and turned back to AutoCAD. Buildings didn’t design themselves, after all.

*

Elsa arrived first, which was to be expected. She wasn’t sure exactly where Anna was staying during her trip, but it was a decent bet that Elsa lived closer to the coffee shop. She twisted her drink in her hands. The atmosphere felt different than usual.

Elsa took a few deep breaths. She counted them. She had her anxiety managed, for the most part. Specific instances of stress (or potential stress) tended to activate it, but she had enough practice to keep a hold on it.

She was so focused on her internal anticipation of Anna’s arrival that she completely missed Anna coming in.

“Hi, Elsa.”

She looked up. For a moment, thought she was reliving the moment she saw Anna after she got back from summer camp. She seemed, more than Elsa had ever seen her, both happy and assured. Everything about her spoke to their years apart treating Anna well. She’d swapped the twin plaits for a messy bun and grown into the plaid shirt look. More than that, she stood with a self-assurance that took Elsa aback.

For some reason, Elsa had half-expected the same teenager she remembered to walk through the door. Instead, a woman with an infectious smile had appeared beside her table.

“Oh, Anna. I missed you come in.”

Anna held up a coffee cup as she sat down across from Elsa. “Missed me getting my drink too. I waved to you and everything.”

Elsa blushed. She was, potentially, just a bit more nervous than she wanted to admit. “Whoops,” she said, “I was a bit preoccupied.”

“That’s totally understandable,” Anna said. Her tone was empathetic. Elsa had forgotten how easily Anna communicated that. “It’s been a while.” The statement hung in the air for a moment. Anna’s eyes flickered downward. “You take your coffee cold now?”

“Yeah, all the time nowadays.” Elsa shrugged. “I realized a couple years back that I actually like it better that way. I just always assumed I should take it hot because, well, that’s kind of the usual, I suppose. It’s how I always expected coffee to be, but it doesn’t have to be.”

“I still like mine hot.” Anna took a sip of her drink. “Even though this is a summer visit, I can’t help but wonder if the snow is about to roll in and take me by surprise. I’ve had enough of the cold, thank you very much.” She chuckled. “I’d rather it not invade my coffee.”

Elsa smiled. Something about the phrasing felt familiar and distinctly ‘Anna’ in styling. “So what’s brought you up here anyway?” she asked. “Horses?”

“Horses.” Anna smiled wryly. “Always horses. I’m almost done with my degree. Once that’s all wrapped up, it’ll just mean more horses.”

Despite the slight grumbling, Anna was clearly happy. “It sounds like it suits you,” Elsa said.

“It does. So... what’re you up to lately?”

Elsa explained her architecture work, which led to a discussion of the building she was working on, which led to a talk about historic barns, back to horses, and so on and so forth.

Talking with Anna was... easier than she’d remembered, than she’d expected. They fell into a familiar conversational rhythm that had Elsa smiling and leaning forward to hear more. In the time they’d been apart, the two of them had amassed more than enough interesting anecdotes to keep a good exchange up.

It felt more like Elsa was meeting a stranger than someone estranged from her. A stranger whose smile felt immediately comfortable, whose laugh sounded familiar. Anna was, in so many ways, a whole new person.

Elsa couldn’t wait to get to know her better. Sitting across from her was an incredible young woman with beautiful hair and a bright smile. The coffee was good. The conversation was great. What more could she want out of a first date?

At the same time, they were sitting in their old chairs from the last time they grabbed coffee together. When Elsa paused once or twice to take a steadying breath, Anna never rushed her. She asked Elsa pointed questions about her architectural influences and what she’d thought about the last Winter Olympics.

And somehow, Anna seemed to know every perfect question to ask, all the things that Elsa wanted to tell her anyway.

Two hours passed so quickly that Elsa thought her watch had broken. She did a double take and shook her head. “I need to head out in a minute,” she said, still not quite believing it.

“Oh, wow.” Anna squinted at her phone. “Time really did fly.”

A pause. Anna looked over at her. Elsa would have looked at herself if it were possible. Anna had asked her out to coffee. By most standards, the ball was in Elsa’s court to continue or cut off what they’d started up.

She cleared her throat. “Do you think we might be able to see one another again?” she asked.

Anna tilted her head. “In what way do you mean?”

“The way we both want, if I’m reading you right.” Elsa tilted her head and squinted, as though Anna were a book she couldn’t quite see from across the table. “The complicated way. The I-hope-you’ve-got-some-ideas kind of way.”

Anna held out her hand. “As it happens, I’ve got some ideas. Are you up to giving this another shot?”

Elsa smiled.

How often, on a first date, do you just know your hands will fit?

“Let’s go for it,” she said, reaching her hand out.

They walked out of the shop together and parted on a kiss full of promise. All it took was a beat, a quick kiss, and Anna’s lips were familiar again, picked up like an old habit or a favorite book.

Elsa couldn’t stop smiling as she got back in her car. The thing about favorite books was that they’re always better on a reread.

Chapter Text

Epilogue III

.

Adgar’s hands tied a full windsor out of habit. He frowned at his reflection and sighed as he undid his tie. This time, he took a moment to think and did a half windsor knot.

“Much better,” he murmured to himself. It was, after all, just dinner. No need to be too formal.

His eyes drifted to the gray gradient sneaking out from his temples. At his age, almost everything he did came across as formal in one way or another.  Or maybe it was just the way he carried himself. Briefly, he tried slouching. It made him look ridiculous. Adgar fidgeted with his collar. He didn’t want to come across as too… what, even. Inaccessible?

“Are you done, dear?” Idunn called from the bedroom.

“Just about.” He adjusted his tie one final time before walking out of the bathroom.

Idunn was sitting on the edge of the bed, putting her earrings on. The afternoon sun cast her in a dramatic light and he smiled. “You look beautiful,” he said.

“There’s a reason I buy so much makeup,” she remarked wryly. Finishing up her earrings, she reached behind her for a necklace laying on the bed.

Adgar took a few quick steps forward and plucked it up before she could. “I’ve got it,” he said. She rolled her eyes at him, but smiled while she did it. He smiled back at her and clasped it around her neck.

“Thank you,” she said.

“You’re welcome.” He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek. Her eyes seemed distant, focused vaguely out the window.

Sometimes, he wondered if she was thinking of someone else.

She turned back to him and tilted her head. “Are you ready?”

Being preoccupied by the concern was an old habit, however, long discarded. He sighed. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

And concern aside, if she was thinking of someone else sometimes it was honestly only fair.

He held out his hand and Idunn took it as she stood up. He looked her over as her dress settled around her calves. It was the purple one, as casual as Idunn tended to dress. The earrings were familiar, one of her wardrobe staples, and the necklace was one that he’d given her, for some anniversary several years past.

“Is there any going back from this?” he mused.

Idunn grabbed her purse. Adgar shut the door behind them. “In general, life does not allow for genuine do-overs,” she said.

“Yes, yes. Time only moves forward. Physics and all.” He shot her a look as they went down the stairs. “You know what I mean, Idunn.”

“Everyone has to live out their choices in life,” she continued. “There is no going back, but that’s okay.” She paused at the front door and gave him a piercing look that softened into fondness. Her voice dropped. “It’s okay if it’s a little messed up,” she said.

Her shift in expression relaxed him. If they had nothing else, their truest bond was being willing to stick it out with one another, despite all mistakes.

They were absolutely a little messed up.

And that was okay.

He took a deep breath as he opened the door for her. If it was good enough for him and Idunn, it was good enough for Elsa and Anna.

The confidence stayed with him long enough to start the car and pull out of the driveway. He faltered at the first stoplight.

“What if this is just a terrible choice for them,” he asked.

“Then it’s a choice they have to live with,” Idunn said, voice sharper. “The two of them, no matter their path but especially this one, will have to let their choices play out. The pressure should be off of us. As far as we’re concerned, this is just ‘meet the parents’ night.” She paused, but he could sense that she wasn’t done.

They drove a block in silence before Idunn added, “For our part… we need to make our own choices tonight that we are willing to live with. In how we meet Anna, in how we respond to the two of them. That is our focus. If we mess up, we live with it. But we should at least try not to say anything we’ll regret.”

“Mmmmm.” He hummed an acknowledgement.

Adgar had always liked driving. In particular, it was good to have something he was doing if he needed to have a difficult conversation with someone. Driving gave him a secondary focus, something to keep him from overthinking everything. He gave himself over to paying close attention to the road while he processed what Idunn had said.

“It’s strange,” he said at length, “to think that we’re supposed to meet Anna as a… as a stranger. She’ll be showing up to dinner tonight as Elsa’s, as Elsa’s girlfriend.” He swallows a lump over the word, but took some small comfort in the fact that his voice bears no tremor.

Small favors, paid forward from previous choices. He glanced sidelong at Idunn, who was studiously examining her nails. Incest was, after all these years, not too shocking a scandal to think of rationally.

It was the other thing that had him choked up.

“I’ve never stopped thinking of her as my daughter,” he said. “It stings to think that she doesn’t think of me as her father.”

Knowing he’d made that bed himself didn’t make it any less shitty to lie in. Still, after all these years, part of him still thought that he’d get another chance to make things right with Anna.

“Well they’re not engaged yet,” Idunn said, “but if it makes you feel better, you could think of Anna as your future daughter-in-law.”

He furrowed his eyebrows at her when they reached a stoplight.

She shrugged. “I thought future daughter, of sorts, would be better than stranger?”

“Fine,” he said. Maybe he’d screwed up so badly that even his second chance was screwed up. That would be somewhat fair. “As long as, one way or another, I’m allowed to care for her. As long as I can find a way to be there for her again, to try and atone for past mistakes.”

“As long as you don’t bring up the past, I don’t think that will be too much of an issue for Anna.”

He glanced at her, sharply, but was looking out the window. Not for the first time, he wondered how long before him she had known. In a way, it made sense. Adgar was fairly certain he would know if Elsa were to, for instance, have an affair. If Idunn had a certain insight that let her in on the secret before Elsa sent them a carefully worded letter, well, that was to be expected.

Between their two vices, he would rather that the girls took after Idunn in their affection for one another than after him for his infidelity.

And yet, that very infidelity had brought Anna into his life. His foot felt leaden on the gas pedal. He sighed and pulled his foot back.

He could never regret his choices, even the terrible ones. All he could do was live with them.

“I think this is the place,” Idunn said.

“Looks right to me.” Adgar pulled into the parking lot.

Idunn saw them first, after they got out of the car. She tapped his elbow to get him to look over toward the restaurant entrance.

His eyes glanced over Elsa. He’d seen her last week; she looked the same. Holding her hand, however, Anna looked so different and the same all at once. He tried to process as many details as possible as they walked over.

His first thought was that she had the same smile as she used to. His next was that she’d grown her bangs out a bit. She had a slight wrinkle on her forehead and looked almost not-herself without her braids.

But he would have recognized her eyes everywhere. She had her mother’s eyes.

He raised a hand to wave at them as he and Idunn walked over.

Elsa and Anna leaned closer together for a moment and Adgar stifled a wince. Though he’d had enough discussions with Idunn on the topic, it didn’t soften his reaction to actually seeing them together, seeing his daughters hold hands as lovers.

But Anna was smiling so widely he had to return the expression.

“It’s nice to meet you, Adgar, Idunn,” she said.

Frankly, he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her this happy.

“It’s wonderful to meet you too,” he said.

“We’ve heard good things,” Idunn said. A thread of humor laced her voice in a joke they couldn’t laugh at.

“Thanks for meeting us here,” Elsa said. He detected a trace of anxiety in Elsa’s voice, but nothing concerning. “Let’s go inside.”

He watched Anna slip a hand around Elsa’s waist as they went inside.

It was so wrong, but it was their choice. Adgar held in a sigh. He would do anything, keep any secret, to keep the both of them in his life.

His gaze caught on Anna’s as they requested a table for four. Her eyes twinkled and he found himself caught between fatherly love and suspicion. Was this her plan? To run off and leave long enough that he would do anything for her to come back? Even accept her with Elsa?

The mischievous glint he’d seen disappeared a beat later and he faintly wondered if he’d imagined it.

They stood awkwardly together as they waited a moment to be seated. But… they had always stood awkwardly when together. The thought made him smile, despite everything. Another joke that had to go untold.

Even if that scheme was Anna’s plan, Adgar found he didn’t mind his part in it. Father to one amazing young woman. Maybe the father-in-law to another. Husband to the most patient, most understanding woman he knew.

Elsa had even picked a nice restaurant for dinner.

The four of them sat down to the table and Adgar sensed a different energy. They hadn’t had dinner together in years, but he could never remember them smiling quite like this, with mouths pulled a bit to the side.

To his surprise, he felt Anna’s smile, Idunn and Elsa’s smile, mimicked on his own face.

Choices to live with, secrets to keep.

There was something in the air between the four of them, a new bond formed around a terrible secret.

But secrets were not so terrible when carefully shared, their weight spread out between those willing to keep it.

Secrets had almost ruined his family before. It seemed fitting that it might be a secret that made them whole again.

“So, Anna,” he said, “Tell me about yourself.”

.

Sillage End