#like-redhead-probably

Frost dusted Anna’s twin braids and bangs. She blinked. Everyone stared in complete shock. A small snowflake fell delicately from nowhere to land on the tip of Anna’s nose. In her arms, Elsa made little noises of satisfaction and nestled herself further into Anna’s hands before falling asleep.

“I take it back,” Anna whispered excitedly while the room found their tongues. “She’s going to be the best!”

-------------

In the middle of the night, Anna crept through the darkened hallways of Arendelle castle, easing the door of her parents’ room open. She lifted, with some effort, the door from the bottom with her toe so it wouldn’t squeak and give her away. She closed it just the same, sidling over to the crib along the far wall. Voices came from the opposite side of the room, in the connected bathroom.

They were arguing. Again.

She couldn’t remember them arguing when she was little, but Anna wasn’t sure that was because they hadn’t, or because they’d not had a reason to.

Because now they were always arguing about Elsa.

Anna dragged the stepstool up to the side of the crib. Elsa was deeply asleep, mumbling vague syllables as Anna rocked her bed gently with her knee. Half a year had passed and Elsa kept getting bigger everyday. Her hair was growing out, her cheeks were soft and pudgy (“Just like yours!” The staff would often remind Anna), and she had started to laugh and laugh and laugh at all of Anna’s antics. Anna was utterly enchanted by her, her little sister was genuine magic.

And of course, Elsa was literally magic, too.

Raised voices rebounded around the walls as the king and queen found new ground to battle over. Anna saw Elsa’s lower lip wobble and put her hand down into the crib so Elsa could hold it. With her other hand she touched the bandages around her head.

“It’s okay,” Anna murmured, “I know it was an accident.”

They’d been playing Peek-a-Boo.

Anna had surprised Elsa for the hundredth time with a joyful, “Here I am!”, only this time Elsa had placed her hand on Anna’s temple as she giggled and there was a flash of white. The next thing Anna knew she was on horseback, jostled back and forth in the king’s lap. They rode hard, to a clearing she didn’t recognize. Creatures rolled out of the mist and popped open, revealing themselves to be trolls. Anna would have been excited under normal circumstances, but the looks on the king and queen’s faces, and the fact that Elsa was crying her tiny lungs out, had her clamping down on any questions.

The adults talked, human and troll alike, but Anna was having a hard time paying attention. Elsa was so far away, upset, and she couldn’t reach her. Her body felt stiff and cold, especially her head. She couldn’t stop shivering. One of the trolls saw her reach out from the king’s arms and told everyone that Anna was awake.

The old troll informed her gravely that her life was in danger, that Elsa’s power would only continue to grow. He showed her images with his magic: a figure in blue turning water to ice, then being pounced upon by figures in red. They were beautiful, and frightening, making Anna’s heart pound sluggishly in her chest. The queen and king said the troll could do whatever he needed to save Anna’s life and protect Elsa from such a fate. The troll approached Anna, with more magic shining in his rocky palm, and said that everything would be fine, that it was just her head and not her heart. He chuckled humorously.

“Much better to lose a few memories than your life.”

Anna refused.

The adults sputtered.

“Will I remember Elsa?”

“Yes, of course but-”

“Will I remember her magic?”

“The magic is what did the damage, and to remove it I would remove-”

“Then no.”

And she wouldn’t hear it any other way, even as her body grew colder and the vision on her right fractured and split. A frozen headache pulsed at her temple, spreading rapidly across her skull. Still, Anna sought out the sound of Elsa’s voice, even though others were getting in the way. She couldn’t tell who was who. Some of them wanted the troll to do it anyway, that Anna was just a child, only ten, and didn’t know better. Some wanted Anna’s wishes to be respected, that perhaps there was another way. Even more worried about the future, the kingdom, what it might mean to have a queen with powers… or a bastard without memories of them.

What were the consequences of hiding Elsa’s powers from the public? What were the repercussions of making the same mistake over and over, if Anna was literally unable to remember the danger?

So many questions, so many voices.

All of them wanted her to live.

Anna took air into small lungs embedded with ice shards, speaking softly but clearly even as fatigue stole over her.

“Elsa’s powers are a part of her. Forgetting them means I’m forgetting part of Elsa. I don’t want that. How can I help her if I don’t know her?”

--

When Anna next awoke she was in her room back at the castle, wrapped solidly in blankets. Summer sunlight filtered through the curtains, bright and cheerful. She thought perhaps it had all been a dream, and she’d been allowed a rare day to sleep in.

In fact here was Gerda, thankfully with breakfast, walking through the door. Anna sat up to make space and shot her a cheerful, “Good morning!”

Gerda dropped everything she was carrying in one huge clatter and rushed to Anna’s side, burying her in a deep hug.

“Oh, my little Princess!” She always called Anna that, even though she wasn’t really. “We thought we were going to lose you!”

Anna went to protest but spied her reflection in the mirror over Gerda’s shoulder. Her hair was it’s usual post-slumber mess, but this time instead of it being held away from her face by sheer luck, it was by bandages.

Gerda set about getting her dressed and fed and ready for the day. She did Anna’s hair last of all, delicately peeling away the strips of cloth. It hurt a little, but not too bad. Anna wasn’t sure what she expected to see as the source of the pain, but that wasn’t it.

“Did I get some of the powdered sugar in my hair?” She asked.

Gerda looked sad, gazing at Anna through her reflection. “No my dear, that’s…” She paused, deliberating. Anna touched the white streak at her temple, following it back where it disappeared behind her ear.

“I don’t know all the details,” Gerda finally continued, “but I’m told you were very brave.”

Anna watched Gerda comb the white streak into her braid and remembered.

And to her everlasting relief… she remembered everything.

-------------

Anna and Elsa grew up, little by little, leap by leap. Space was cleared out in Anna’s room for Elsa’s bed and things, but by that time they were already inseparable. From the moment Elsa could walk she followed Anna everywhere. Laughter was common, and anyone in the castle who caught an earful of it drifting and caterwauling through the halls always gave a smile. Unless it was followed by the sound of something breaking, then it was usually a kickstart to a sprint.

As Anna edged into her teenage years things got… a little silly. Now at ages fifteen and five, the girls could get into all kinds of mischief. Nothing terrible of course, mostly playing knights in the hallways with the armor and freezing their tutor’s inkwell after a particularly difficult day of study. But then of course, there was the time Elsa made sleeping versions of them to fool people into thinking they were tucked away for the night, only to get caught sneaking into the fjord waters for a late night swim. Or the time Anna pretended Elsa was sick and was only taking requests through the door - requests that included chocolate cake, chocolate chip cookies, hot chocolate (in summer), chocolate mousse…

The future that the king and queen feared never came to pass; Elsa’s powers indeed grew as she did, but they were tempered with the practice that came along with frequent use, namely entertaining herself and her older sister. Anna never got tired of watching Elsa, “Do the magic,” and Elsa never got tired showing her.

Anna’s sunny disposition never wavered even when others thought it might, when, despite their closeness, familial bonds, and education, Anna’s status as an out of wedlock child started to become more frequently pronounced. If anything, Elsa took more offense to her sister being addressed as, “Lady Anna,” while she got “Princess Elsa”, than Anna ever did.

“But you are a princess!” Elsa protested one night. They were both in their respective beds, across from each other, flat on their backs as they watched the hues of the Northern Lights waver over their ceiling.

“I’m technically half adopted,” Anna clarified.

“What does that mean?”

“It means one of our parents isn’t my flesh and blood parent, even though I call them Mama and Papa just like you do.”

“That’s so weird,” and Anna could hear Elsa’s frown from her side of the room. “Which one?”

Anna shrugged. “I dunno. It’s not like I haven’t wondered, but it just, never seemed to matter enough to ask.”

“I could ask.”

“No, sweetheart, you don’t have to.”

“But I wanna know!”

Anna sighed. She watched the lights dance a moment before saying, “I don’t.”

“Oh…” Elsa went quiet. “Can I ask why?”

“Sure you can.”

A few seconds passed before Elsa huffed irritably and Anna grinned in the dark. “Why don't you want to know?”

“I want to be mysterious,” Anna teased.

“Anna!”

“What? If you get to be queen, then I want to be the spooky, strange older sibling!”

She expected a laugh but was met with silence.

“...Did you wanna be queen?”

Anna opened her mouth to reply how she always did, but stopped. This was her sister, not some dignitary in a hushed tone or some drink toting duchess at a dinner party. She deserved a real answer.

“No,” Anna said finally, “not really anyway. Even when I was little I didn’t dream of holding Papa’s scepter or wearing Mama’s crown. I felt like that was their thing, and you had your thing! And I was… am, happy just being me.”

“Is that because you really never thought about it, or because someone told you it would never be yours?”

Anna’s brows knit together and she sat up quickly. “Hey,” she smirked, “who said you could be a five-year-old philosopher?”

“Sorry!” Elsa sat up too, her arms hugging her bed sheet covered legs. “I just think you’d be really good at it!”

“Good at it?” Elsa nodded, the Lights roaming through her hair. “What makes you say that?”

“Well…,” Elsa began rolling her hands in a circular motion. A small ball of twinkling snow appeared between her hands, rotating gently. She did this whenever she was thinking. “You’re smart and patient and kind. You’re always explaining things to me, and telling me stories. You help me when I’m mad at my homework or miss a stitch while sewing. You’re always thinking of new games to play, you read me books and take me out into the town for a day of fun! And you always save some of your peas from dinner for the ducks in the pond. You claim it’s because you hate vegetables but really it’s because you know it’s their favorite snack.

“But as much as you teach,” Elsa continued, the snowball spinning and sparking, “you also listen. You know everybody in the whole castle’s birthday. A sailor told you that he always missed the baker’s lun epleterte when he was out at sea, and now the baker always has extra when he sees that ship come home. Kai mentioned once that his favorite flowers hadn’t bloomed yet in the garden so you staked out the hedge for weeks. The moment they bloomed you ran to go find him, a few flowers already in your hands. You’re very-,” Elsa paused, her hands stopping too. Her lips twitched in annoyance. “I don’t know the word. But you know people and you care about them, and I think that would make you a great queen.”

The little snowball shrunk and disappeared, returning the room to the flickering patterns of pinks, blues, and greens of the Lights. Anna propped her head and elbow up on her thigh. “Hmm, I suppose you’re right. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m not really interested, and even if I were, I still couldn’t.”

Elsa waved her hand dismissively. “When I’m queen I’ll just make you queen too.”

Anna scoffed, though not without humor. “That’s not how it works.”

“Says who? I’ll be queen! Who’s gonna say no?” Elsa barreled on, not waiting for Anna’s response. “It’ll be perfect: I’ll be Queen, you’ll be Royal-Big-Sister-Queen, and then you and I can both do whatever we want! We’ll be perfect together!”

“‘Royal-Big-Sister-Queen’? That’s not a thing.”

“It will be,” Elsa replied confidently. Anna exhaled heavily, a smile on her lips. Elsa noticed her lack of enthusiasm. “Okay, I’ll work on a better title but…, I just don’t want people thinking that you’re not part of my family.”

Anna’s eyes softened. “C’mere you.”

Elsa kicked off her covers, grabbed the stuffed penguin Anna had made for her fourth birthday, and ran on bare feet to Anna’s bedside. She lifted her arms and Anna picked her up, nestling her close. “It will never matter what other people say about me, because I know that the family that chose me, and that I choose right back everyday, loves me very much, and just wants me to be happy.”

Anna ran her pinkie softly down the bridge of Elsa’s nose. Her little sister blinked drowsily when Anna did it again. “What do you think about that?” She asked quietly.

“I think… you’re my best friend-older sister,” Elsa said softly as sleep dragged at her, “who tries to put her cold feet on my back when we sleep together, always forgetting that I can’t feel the cold.”

Anna chuckled low in her chest. “And I think you are my sweet-but-silly little sister,” she replied, tweaking Elsa’s nose which made her giggle, “who is always stealing the blankets despite claiming she’s never cold, leaving me to freeze to death.”

Elsa cuddled closer to Anna, yawning fiercely. “I promise I’ll share them tonight. Pre-Queen’s honor.”

Anna put a hand to her chest. “That’s a big promise, your Almost-Majesty. How do you know you’ll keep it?”

Elsa already had her eyes closed and her head on Anna’s pillow. “Because I love you.”

Anna smiled warmly. She scooched lower and drew the covers up over her shoulder, planting a kiss on Elsa’s forehead as she got settled.

“I love you too. And I still will, even when I wake up tomorrow and all the covers are on your side of the bed.”

-------------

Elsa never did come up with a better title for Anna’s rise to royalty. Not that she didn’t have time; to most people three years is quite the span, but for children and young adults it may well have been the blink of an eye. And it certainly felt like no time at all when Kai knocked on their door, parchment in hand and tears in his eyes, to deliver the news that their parents had died at sea.

Anna was eighteen, and Elsa, heir to the throne, only eight.

The funeral was delayed until proper mourning attire could be fashioned for such young women. The headstones were grand but simple. After the rain and the prayers, Anna and Elsa walked back to their room, silent. Anna worked on autopilot: helping Elsa disrobe, comb out her hair, put her in sleepwear. Until she felt the ghost of a memory, not long past, of her hugging the queen and king around the waist, expressing her wish to see them soon. The last time she’d ever touched them.

She heard Elsa sniffle beneath her hand, and caught sight of their reflection in the mirror. Tears dripped out of red-rimmed eyes as Elsa’s hard fought composure (already so heavy for a child) fell apart at Anna’s momentary lapse in normality. Then they were holding each other close, fingers digging into clothing and faces pressed close together.

They slept in the same bed for months.

But during that time an uncomfortable question arose. One that, out of respect for tradition, should have waited, but realistically speaking, couldn’t.

Who was in charge now?

Obviously no one expected an eight-year-old to be officially running a country, especially since her Coronation Day was over a decade away. And while Elsa had already Ascended to ruling status, legally she wasn’t making the rules, and it couldn’t be advisors forever. Especially not after the period of mourning, which at max placed Elsa at twelve. She would be involved in ongoing diplomatic and national matters of course, as she would have been anyway, though now to a larger degree, but the fact of the matter was that Elsa was a child.

She still had a bedtime.

And it couldn’t be Anna… could it? She had the training, the disposition. Even if she’d never desired it personally, could she be persuaded to step up, even if it was, in the end, invisibly? The advisors knew that generally speaking, the people of Arendelle would not turn their backs on Anna being their ruler in Elsa’s place, but politically, they felt the pressure of putting the correct outward face on their country.

Anna walked past two advisors, picking holes in the same arguments she’d heard for weeks, and closed her ears to it all. If they --the crown, the staff, the castle-- needed her help, she’d do it in a heartbeat, but right now, she was more concerned with the remaining family she had left.

Namely, finding her before her upcoming royal duties.

They were starting slow. A few of the old guardsmen had retired, and today was their replacement’s first day on the job. Elsa, as queen, was supposed to formally greet them and thank them for their service. Fairly straightforward, all things considered, but Anna had seemingly lost track of Elsa after breakfast and between a few meetings of her own, and now was looking for her little sister.

Well, she was pretending to look. Anna knew exactly where to find her sister, but she gathered that, with all the fuss over dress and ceremony, Elsa may want just a few extra seconds to be alone, not being touched by people’s hands or her hair pulled by combs or set in tight braids and buns along her head.

But they couldn’t delay forever. Anna tapped a special rhythm on the door to their room, hearing a muted, “Come in!” from the other side.

As she entered, Anna’s breath caught in her throat.

Elsa was dressed like, well…

She looked just like Mama.

“Gerda says if I keep my steps high, I won’t trip on my cape,” Elsa said, spinning to show off the purple floor length cape. “But I can’t walk normally if I do that, I look like a puffed up frog!”

A little tiara nestled in her snow-blonde hair bounced light around the room as Elsa shifted. A fleck caught in Anna’s eye and she blinked harshly, bringing her back to the moment.

“Good thing you only have to walk a few feet,” Anna agreed, closing the door behind her and striding up to her sister. “You’ll be the best dressed frog in the room.”

Elsa folded her arms and scowled, looking very queenly indeed. “I’m surprised you’re the one saying that, considering what you’re wearing today,” and she gestured up and down at her sister.

It was true, Anna was wearing a dress that was almost entirely green from top to bottom, excluding the bodice which was black. The pleats of her skirt were alternating shades of green, the only spots of color otherwise being the rosemaling against the black silk on her chest and abdomen. Anna looked down then back up, and grinned. “I guess you’re right. You’ll have to teach me how to walk then. Does it look something like this?”

She marched dramatically in place, all high knees and right angled elbows, a look of comic determination on her face. To her delight, and relief, Elsa burst into giggles. She held her two gloved hands up in front of her mouth.

That was the Elsa she knew.

“You’re going to embarrass me, Anna,” Elsa laughed.

“Lucky for me, that’s the older sibling’s job.” Anna put her hands on her hips. “Ready to go?”

Elsa’s smile dropped, looking down at her outfit. “I look like I am.”

Anna crouched down to be level with Elsa. “You certainly do,” she said softly. “You look beautiful. But I asked if you were ready.” Elsa didn’t meet her eye, instead fidgeting with her hands and wringing the soft blue leather of her gloves.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be,” Elsa confessed, downcast.

Anna acknowledged that with a little hum. “Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, maybe not for a long time. But I think that’s okay too, it just means you’re still willing to learn. And you know, you’re not alone. You’ve got Kai and Gerda and all the staff, you’ve got the tutors and experts and all the other adults that know what to do. And, you know,” Anna shrugged, “you’ve got me, too. So I’m pretty sure it won’t be a complete disaster.”

Elsa looked up. “Really?”

“Positive,” Anna winked. She pinched her pointer finger and thumb close together. “Just a little one.”

Elsa laughed again and shoved Anna’s hand away. “Okay, okay, I’m ready. Let’s go.”

“After you,” Anna said grandly, opening the door wide for Elsa with a sweeping bow. Elsa shook her head, then squared her shoulders and tilted her chin back, adopting the posture she’d learned over many lessons of how to walk like a queen. Anna sheltered the little spark of pride inside her heart, and the flicker of sadness that came along with it.

They started to make their way down the long hall, Anna a step behind to Elsa’s right, as was expected. As they neared the halfway point, Elsa’s pace slowed, and Anna noticed immediately.

She tapped Elsa on the shoulder and gently took her hand.

Elsa glanced ahead and behind furtively. “I… shouldn’t.”

“I know but, you don’t have to be ‘Queen-queen’ until we turn that corner, so…” Anna ran her thumb across the back of Elsa’s gloved hand, “You can keep holding my hand until then.”

Elsa squeezed back. “And after that? Where will you be?”

Anna beamed.

Anna’s shoulders drop. “I don’t know, something about it just doesn’t feel right.” She moves her hands to the undone cufflinks at her wrist. They are little red gems cut like flames, something that, right now, Anna feels is a little too on the nose.

Elsa walks across the room, and as she does, she dresses as well. Sweeping from toe to collarbone, a dress of ice creates itself under her hands. Styled like an evening dress, it flows around her ankles and slides against her waist, a slit showing off her legs and the heels that materialize as she steps forward. Overlapping ice crystals lend texture and light to dress, snowflake prints growing and fading in an ever changing, eye catching pattern. Her arms stay bare, showing off her skin and the long braid that fell over her left shoulder. She was gorgeous, and she knew it as she reached Anna and smirked playfully.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of watching you do that,” Anna breathes, realizing her mouth is a little dry.

Elsa raises an eyebrow. “I think you like it when I take it off more.” Before Anna can reply, Elsa is pulling this way and that on her wife’s outfit. “Is it too tight? Too loose? Did we make the pants too long? I knew you weren’t going to wear heels but we can try to safety pin the bottoms if you think you’ll be walking on them.”

“N-No,” Anna replies when she finds her voice, “I just can’t get over the feeling that it’s a little too me. Does that make sense?”

“Well of course. It’s supposed to be about you, it was designed that way.”

“Yeah,” Anna puts her hand on the back of her head, embarrassed, “you’re right. I just haven’t had something like this for me ever so, I feel a little out of place.” She turns back to the mirror, catching Elsa’s eye. “But, looking at you makes me feel like I didn’t ask for enough flame motifs.”

Elsa laughs, the ice gems in her hair sparkling alongside her earrings. “We might have overdone it a little, but that’s half the fun,” she says, retrieving Anna’s jacket and removing it from it’s protective sleeve. She holds the garment open and Anna pushes her arms through, the fabric laying itself against her shoulders and back. “There,” Elsa smooths the wrinkles at Anna’s elbows and flicks Anna’s pony tail out from under the jacket’s collar, “I think you look very handsome. The colors really bring out your hair,” Elsa kisses behind Anna’s ear, “your eyes,” another lands at Anna’s temple, “and your smile,” she finishes, kissing right next to Anna’s mouth.

Anna indeed grins, but she does correct Elsa. “I think that last one is you, not the outfit.” Elsa shrugs, admiring her handiwork. Anna looks a lot more confident now, which only made her more beautiful.

She helps Anna do the cufflinks and stands still as Anna uses her shoulder to balance while putting on shoes. Once more they present themselves before the mirror. Anna still looks a bit unsure, but Elsa combs her bangs back with her fingers, trailing her touch down the length of Anna’s jaw. Under her hand Anna stands up taller. “Ready to go?” Elsa asks gently.

“Together with you?” Anna beams. “Always.”

–

The cool tile of the kitchen warms under Anna’s bare feet. There is a song in the back of her throat, remembered even though it had been in her dreams, and Anna hums it under her breath as she begins her daily ritual: plucking bacon and eggs from the fridge and reaching overhead to grab a box of oatmeal. Frozen strawberries would come a little later; normally they would have been fresh, but the dead of winter isn’t exactly the best season for the little red berries.

Bacon begins to sizzle under low heat, milk and oats go into a saucepot to simmer, and Anna rough chops some walnuts to add on top. She hears rustling from down the hall and smiles. That’s her cue to fill the kettle, but it doesn’t go on the stove with the rest of the cookware. Instead, Anna allows the water to fill up enough for a mug or so, then cups the bottom with both hands, releasing a focused breath through her nose.

Heat trickles through her veins, down her limbs, and pools into her palms. Anna inhales again, taking in the sharp winter air flowing through the apartment, then exhales slowly once more. Miniscule traces of flame dance around her eyelashes, so small even she can barely see them. A scattering of embers buzz around the backside of her hands, along the thin hairs on her forearm, like curious fireflies. The kettle begins to glow a dull red between her hands and Anna finishes her song with a little trill as her wife steps from the hallway into the doorway of the kitchen, trying and failing to hide a massive yawn.

“Morning, Elsa.” Anna taps the sides of the kettle with her fingers. “Food or tea first today?”

Elsa regards Anna for a moment, then the stovetop. Both her ice blue eyes were still dark with sleep, exhausted after a long night of fun and revelry, but Anna knows they’d be their usual bright and sparkly soon enough. The same winter chill that seeps into Anna’s skin and bones to raise goosebumps is what energizes Elsa this time of year. While practically lethargic in the summer, come winter, especially this close to the solstice, all Elsa needs is a few deep breaths, the kind that froze and choked the throat of most people (Anna included) but ignites something in her, giving her a sheen that lasted all day.

But it was still a little too early to walk barefoot out on the snow covered lawn between apartment buildings, especially in just an oversized shirt and short pajama pants.

Well, at least on a weekday. On a weekend, anything goes.

Elsa seems to make up her mind, but instead of answering with words she steps forward and cradles Anna’s face with her hands, tilting her up into a gentle kiss. Anna smiles again, feeling Elsa do the same, and moves the hot kettle a little further away, just in case.

“Slight alteration,” Anna amends when they step apart. Elsa hugs her arms around Anna’s waist from the side, “Food of tea second, today?”

“Mmm, tea please,” Elsa murmurs.

“Coming right up.” Anna nods towards the window over the sink. “Do you want to recharge outside today?” Elsa was quiet again as she thought, then she shook her head, curling herself closer to Anna.

“I want you to do it, if that’s okay.”

Anna kisses blindly in Elsa’s direction, catching the top of her cheek just below her eye. “Of course! Just a moment then.”

They watch and listen, the kettle growing hotter in Anna’s hands. Elsa hugs her tighter, relishing Anna’s warmth. Tendrils of flame dance along Anna’s hair, pulled back away from her face in a simple braid that let the rest cascade down her back. Her already red hair takes on a subtle glow, like the coals at the bottom of a cookfire, pulsing with heat as Anna concentrates. More little embers dislodge themselves as Anna rolls her head, cracking a few joints in her neck. They flicker and waver like lanterns in the night sky, fizzling long before they are dangerous. They light up so prettily against Elsa’s hair, catching something a little magical in return.

In the dim morning light, Elsa’s hair hides tiny ice crystals, shimmering like glitter. The ice was always there, not just for fun occasions like last night. Sometimes they are thin and weak like the barest translucent coating of rainwater after the night dips just chilly enough to freeze. Other times it’s bushy and delicate, stabbing this way and that but collapsing under the faintest touch. And, very rarely, it was hard and thick like ocean rime, sticking Elsa’s hair up in all directions like a lion at the salon. It all depended on the weather, and Elsa’s mood, and the alignment of the moon and– well actually a lot of things, but right now the faint dusting mostly meant that Elsa was extremely low on power. Not energy, per say, that problem could be solved with calories, rest, and relaxation the same as any normal human, but her power reserves had faded, taking with them a little extra spark. It explains her persisting drowsiness and inability to keep her bangs from hanging over her face.

Eventually the kettle whistles and rattles in Anna’s hands. A mug is retrieved from the cabinets (Elsa’s favorite, the one with the little dancing snowmen) and tea begins to steep in hot water. Anna puts the remainder on the stove, flipping the bacon and stirring the oatmeal to prevent it from burning. Her palms still glow slightly orange but they dim quickly as Anna stops tapping into the magic flowing through her blood.

Long ago, when the world was younger and still marveled at the things that hid beyond the pale, one of Anna’s ancestors had decided the best thing to do was have a relationship with a being of fire from another plane of existence. Happens to the best of us. Skipping and hopping through the generational gene pool forever after had been the gift of heat and flame. So Anna’s parents hadn’t been entirely surprised by their child’s ability to sneeze fire on command, but it had been a learning curve. In modern day, magic was common, but spread so thin that most people hardly had any power at all. So when someone like Anna came along, or Elsa, with a magic that made parlor tricks look, well, cheap, it was a rare thing indeed. It also made the dating scene a little complicated. Rare enough to find someone magical, more rare still to find a compatible partner. Shrink that already small pool into a quarter-sized drop on the countertop to account for the difficulty it is to get lesbians to admit any feelings for each other, and the chances that Anna and Elsa got together at all shrank to atom-sized.

And yet, the two of them had felt since the very first moment they met that there was always something meant to happen between them. And they were grateful everyday that that ‘something’ ended up being each other’s forever.

Anna walks back to the table, setting the mug down within easy reach of her wife who had seated herself at the kitchen table. Elsa sniffs appreciatively, a gentle lemon, honey, and black tea steam wafting against her nose. It’s perfect, and she looks forward to being able to drink it. But first things first. Or third, as it was turning out.

Reaching under the hem, Elsa pulls her shirt over her head, exposing the entirety of her bare back. Her skin glistens faintly; more ice, Anna knows, small enough to be microscopic. Elsa releases a breath, not at the chill in the air but in anticipation. Anna takes the shirt and drapes it over an adjacent chair.

“Comfortable?” Anna asks, leaning over the back of Elsa’s chair, close to the shell of her ear. Her wife nods and makes a tired affirmative noise that kicks a laugh out of Anna. “Okay, okay, no more delay.”

“Just a little,” Elsa manages softly. “I can do the rest later.”

Anna considers this before running her thumb across the top pads of her fingers, finishing with a snap. A brilliant orange flame appears over her hand, smokeless and bobbing, a little larger than a golf ball. It’s twin sprouts from her other hand, and Anna begins.

Though there were undoubtedly many ways to accomplish this task, it had become important to both women that this recharge process be soft, gentle, and giving. Anna starts with Elsa’s shoulders, stretching down to nuzzle her chin into the crook of Elsa’s neck as she descended the length of her wife’s arms. The flames do not scorch or burn, don’t melt away skin and bone, but flow, like a gel, coating Elsa’s arms as Anna leisurely moves from elbow to wrist. Elsa had once compared the feeling to being wrapped in a heated towel, inch by luxurious inch, and now she hums appreciatively as Anna reaches the end of her hand and comes back up, tracing the underside of her forearms. Anna’s scent is all around her, and Elsa inhales deeply, endearment blossoming in her chest. Unlike the fires of man, Anna doesn’t smell of ash or charcoal but the headiness of warm sap, the sugary sweetness of a marshmallow, and the cheery wood-smoke of cedar and pine. Occasionally, when she’s hungry, Anna smells of cooking (which only makes the problem worse), but even that is something Elsa loves about her.

Anna reaches the crest of Elsa’s shoulder and drags the flames up the slope of her neck, her touch becoming softer. Thinner tissue didn’t need as much heat, but she smiles when Elsa tilts her head forward to allow better access, her white-blonde hair spilling over her head like a curtain. Her fingertips sink into Elsa’s hair, the flat of her palms covering the space behind her ears. Elsa sighs when Anna drags her thumbs past the pressure point at the base of her skull, massaging her flames into Elsa’s hairline. Finished with that spot Anna dips back down, into Elsa’s back, running her hands along smooth shoulder blades. It’s a bit of a difficult reach because of the chair, but Anna makes it work. She knows every inch of Elsa’s body, follows every indent of her spine, and makes her touch light when she moves outwards to Elsa’s sides. Elsa twitches anyway, always being a tad ticklish, but Anna adjusts and it doesn’t happen a second time. There is of course, always the temptation to reach all the way around, knowing that Elsa is naked beneath her hands, but there were better occasions for that. Right now, Anna just wants Elsa to return to her usual self.

The changes happen when Anna climbs back up Elsa’s back to her shoulders and starts anew.

This time, the glob of fire retreats back into Anna’s hands, lighting up her skin with patterns so old they’ve lost their meaning. Flickering swirls and glowing symbols stretch past her palm into her arms. Now, when Anna touches the residue left on her first pass, it dissolves, sinking into Elsa, past her muscles and bones to reach beyond, to her own icy magic.

Elsa trembles and her breath hitches. In the wake of Anna’s hands grows coarse white fur, spiraling down the outside of her arms, sweeping up the nape of her neck, and tangling along the ridge of her spine. It’s not overly long, barely an inch at Elsa’s elbow and two at the line where shoulders and spine meet. Anna loves every bit of it, especially knowing that it was what made Elsa really truly Elsa, even if they both weren’t exactly sure what that meant. Though the origin of Anna’s magic was well known, Elsa’s wasn’t. They had guesses of course, but there were a surprising amount of magical creatures that loved the cold and had fur. Not too many had Elsa’s recharge ability though, consuming heat and flame within their body to create more cold, so that narrowed down the list a little. Technically, it eliminated Anna’s favorite guess, the one that made her wife blush prettily and push her away when Anna teased. She just couldn’t see a Tundra Salamander making the noises Elsa did, especially while ah, intimate….

But, Frost Trolls on the other hand…

None of that matters though as Elsa exhales and steam comes out, her chilled breath hitting the warmer air. The ice crystals in her hair multiply and grow, letting Elsa frost her bangs above her head as she prefers. Her eyes flash blue as she leans back, looking up at Anna, so much more alive and alert than before. Her voice practically bubbles with light as she says, “Thank you, Anna,” and smiles, revealing the smallest hint of elongated canines. She pulls Anna down to place a kiss on the underside of her chin.

“You’re welcome,” Anna replies. And she tries to hide it, she really does, but buried in those two words is a little rasp, a little drag, and Elsa notices immediately.

“Oh, Anna,” Elsa gets up, studying her wife’s face. Anna’s grin has a little less brilliance, her eyes a little more grey than green, a flame turned down to conserve fuel. Elsa frowns, a little pout on her lips. “I said only a little.”

“I know, but you were still tired from last night, and the days before, I could tell,” Anna defends, even as she sinks into Elsa’s touch. Though she was loathe to admit it, fatigue pulls at her from the chest down, her arms feeling heavy and leaden. Power trickles through them sluggishly, and instead of floating away, Anna’s embers begin to sink to the floor.

Elsa helps Anna into the same chair she had occupied, putting her shirt back on too. She presses a kiss to Anna’s hairline, just above her forehead, then finishes what Anna started before she’d arrived. All the food gets plated and bowled, utensils appear, and another mug gets pulled down from the cabinet, this time covered in sunflowers. Elsa adds a pot of water to the coffee machine, waving her hand at Anna when she tries to get up. “I’ll handle it, let me take care of you, too,” Elsa insists when Anna hesitates to sit. Her wife may not have the same ability to consume another’s magic to refuel, but caffeine was a totally normal, totally reasonable, lovingly aromatic substitute. 

Elsa cracks two more eggs in the pan and adds more bacon before bringing everything to the table. Anna’s eyes light up at the bounty before her, tucking in immediately. Coffee percolates and Elsa adds sugar and cream. She puts a hand over the rim as Anna grabs for the mug, looking at her pointedly. Anna has the good graces to blush lightly, her eagerness bludgeoning past her common sense. Fire powers or not, a burnt tongue was still a burnt tongue. While Anna eats, Elsa adds frozen strawberries to her oatmeal, popping one in her mouth idly. The hot food would melt the rest eventually, but Elsa preferred them this way. It gives Anna brain freeze just watching her.

Elsa wraps her hands around the tea that has been steeping for a while now, a warmth spreading from her heart that has nothing to do with the beverage or the food. Energy returns to Anna’s movements, the green tint of her eyes gleam, and her little embers hover like impatient pets, as though they too will be fed from the same plate.

Speaking of, it’s suddenly empty, and Elsa hides a grin inside her mug at Anna’s unsubtle glance at the stovetop. But when Anna pushes back her chair to serve herself, Elsa stops her again, loading Anna’s plate instead and bringing it back with a smile and another kiss. Anna smelled like French toast, and Elsa made a mental note to buy cinnamon and another dozen eggs to make batter. But later, not today. They both had taken the rest week off so they had nothing but lazy days to look forward to until the end of the year. They’d have plenty of time, plenty of moments.

“Not at all!” Anna squeezed the woman tightly, walking them towards the edge of the field, where other Valkyries, their Chosen Dead, and their mounts, awaited. “Our pets are family too.” Anna acknowledged the other Valkyries as they approached. Many returned her greeting with smiles, but some were occupied with their charges. A few spoke softly to their Chosen, consoling them. One looked like she was regretting her choice as her warrior whooped and hollered, begging them to be off. Anna steered her Chosen to her own mount, brushing the horse’s flank. “We’ll send a message through Embla to your wife that you made it to Valhalla.”

The woman paused, bouncing back down on the leg that would have gotten her into the saddle. She looked over her shoulder, an odd expression on her face. “How did you know my cat’s name?”

Anna’s eyes twinkled. “Don’t you know? Cats are very special to Freyja. If they’re staring off into space, they’re probably talking to something you can’t see.” Anna jabbed her thumb against her armor covered chest. “And that something is usually someone, like me.”

The woman looked back at the winged horse she was mounting, then skyward. “It’s one thing to hear the stories, but… I suppose I’ll get used to this one day, won’t I?”

Anna grinned again, putting her hands on her hips. “One day, and sooner rather than later. Though hopefully, the world won’t lose it’s magic for you too quickly.”

The woman patted the neck of the steed below her, making it whiney in happiness and ruffle the feathers in its wings. “No,” she murmured, “I don’t think it will.”

“Alright then, scooch over,” Anna made shoo-ing motions with her hand.” No no, the other way! Trust me, you’ll want the view, and with me behind, you won’t fall off.” The woman paled to a morning sky blue as Anna put her foot in the stirrup, “And while you’re already dead, the fall wouldn’t be pleasant and we’d have to come rescue y--”

A small, wistful tug at the small of her back pulled her up short. The subtle kind, like the soft plucking of a musician tuning their instrument in the corner of a crowded drinking hall. The kind where they feel for the vibrations more than listen to the note to tell if they’re on the right track.

Anna froze. A frown creased her brow, her green eyes unfocussing to the middle distance.

“Is everything alright, Valkyrie?” Anna blinked and looked up at her Chosen.

“Yes, I thought I felt--.” The pull came again, against her lower ribs, close to her spine. Anna jumped back to the ground, raising her fingers to her mouth and giving a piercing whistle, bringing a fellow Valkyrie to her side immediately.

“I need you to take my Chosen to Valhalla,” Anna said firmly.

The other Valkyrie’s eyes widened. “Why?”

“We missed one.”

The Valkyrie cocked her head, concentrating. “I don’t sense another, sister.”

“But I…” Anna’s eyes were locked on the treeline at the edge of the battlefield. “I could have sworn--.”

“The skirmish is over, and you have your Chosen,” the Valkyrie motioned to Anna’s charge. “It’s your duty to take her.”

Anna’s eyes drifted back to her sister and her Chosen. She balled her fists. “We missed one,” she repeated. “I’m sure of it.”

“A deserter perhaps?” Both Valkyries looked up at the Chosen, who balked immediately. “S-Sorry,” she stammered, a ghostly blush appearing across the bridge of her nose. “I guess I don’t know how it works but, you Choose people right? Who lives and who dies? And maybe this person slipped away before the fight, which is why… you didn’t…” She sputtered to a stop, the glow overtaking her features. “Maybe that makes no sense.”

Anna and the other Valkyrie shared a look, then took in the field again.

“I suppose…” the Valkyrie began.

“...That’s possible.” Anna concluded.

The Valkyrie sighed, turning and taking the reins to Anna’s horse. “You’d better investigate then. Just to be sure.” Anna nodded, turning to take her leave. “And, Anna?” The Valkyries' eyes met, an understanding passing between them. If someone was Chosen, then it was a Valkyrie’s task to collect, one way or another. “No one escapes their fate.”

Anna put a hand on the hilt of her sword. “They won’t,” she said evenly. “One way or another.”

She bid farewell to her Chosen and all the others. As Anna made her way across the battlefield she heard the beating of wings, neighing of horses, and stomping of hooves digging into the dirt for lift off. It was always a thrill to watch the face of her Chosen as they began their journey, but as the tug came again --now a snag on her sternum, light but insistent as she trudged forward-- Anna resigned herself to next time. She focused on the feeling in her chest, thrumming with warm tension, like a rope holding a sail in place against the wind. A familiar sensation, but this one was different, and she hadn’t known how to say as much to her fellow Valkyrie. Normally, when someone was Chosen, all a Valkyrie had to do was see them, and the decision of life or death was known in an instant. If Life, a mark was placed on the person, protecting them from harm; if Death, the collection and honoring of the soul after battle and a ride to Valhalla. But this one was outside of battle - it was after, or aside. If the Choice was Life, then Anna could let it be, make the mark and return home. But if it was Death… what then? A Valkyrie was not meant to kill mankind, but to ferry and guide. What would she do if there was no one to do the deed for her?

Anna reached the treeline and paused, shaking the thoughts from her head. She would cross that bridge when she came to it, no sense in worrying before the answer was revealed. And it would be, soon, as if she had always known it.

The phantom pull beckoned her forward, as surely as being led by the hand, but now it was joined by another sensation, ringing against the shell of Anna’s ears.

Singing.

A melody without words. Unfamiliar. Lofting, glazed and sweet, through the air like droplets of honey.

Anna strode forward, swallowed immediately by the large conifers, her footsteps muffled by a dense carpet of dead pine needles. A low fog clung to her boots, eddying about in whirls at her passing. The colors of the forest were rich, swathed like dark paint strokes: greens and chips of brown, flashes of ruddy red, all saturated in hue from moisture that clung to the air itself. Compared to the carnage at her back, the serenity of the woods made Anna feel like she’d stepped into another world. Another, other world. Not one of gods or men. One of tranquility, dominated by only one thing: the voice.

It was beautiful, hitting each new note effortlessly, enchanting in it’s grace. It enticed Anna along as easily as her Valkyrie pull, in harmony with it, even. Anna felt like she was being pushed along and reeled in at the same time, a fish on a line, her pace quickening, nearly stumbling in her efforts to reach her destination. While she realized distantly that her haste should probably alarm her, fear was the furthest thing from her mind. There was only the song, only the tune, only the knowledge of her upcoming Choice.

The calming shush of water rode under the belly of the song, and in the next moment Anna realized she had arrived. The babbling curve of a river cut her off from the other side of the forest. Hardly an insurmountable gap, but a solid stop nonetheless as Anna found her footsteps echoing beneath her, now on a flat stretch of stone instead of grass and loam.

The notes ground to an abrupt halt, the silence left behind stark and empty.

...Until Anna found eyes of startling ice blue and the screaming started.

Well, Anna thought, clapping her hands over her ears, more like shrieking.

There was a flurry of movement and water sloshed up near Anna’s boots. A mouth moved but Anna couldn’t hear, still fighting the ringing in her head at the unexpectedly shrill noise. Slowly she eased her clawed fingers from around her ears, but regretted it almost instantly.

“I said--!” A graceless, high, and not at all calm voice broke through, making Anna grit her teeth, “What in the name of Odin is wrong with you?!” 

Anna went to retort and give the person a good earful of her own, but to her shock, her jaw simply refused to work. In fact it was stuck, awestruck and lame. Conversely, her heart was working overtime because…

The woman in front of her was breathtakingly beautiful. Long pale hair cascaded down her shoulders, over her heaving, arm crossed chest, fanning out where it dipped into the water. Those blue eyes like the glaciers in the realm of the Frost Giants shone dazzling and fierce, framed by dark eyebrows. The mouth that had accosted her was now a firm and set line, waiting for the Valkyrie’s reply.

But more than all of that, understanding was crashing through Anna with all the power and might of Thor’s lightning. The voice, the song, and those words, the Pull: they had led her here. This woman was her Chosen. The tether in her chest practically crackled in the short distance between herself and this stranger, tingling down her limbs and filling her with the energy to act just as much as it rooted her to the spot. It became so intense that Anna felt a flush creep up her neck, the pressure of everything she felt akin to a summer bonfire trapped beneath her armor.

The woman took this change --and Anna’s continued silence-- poorly, and sank further under, leaving just her head above the water.

And maybe that was the most unbelievable thing about the whole situation. Anna was half convinced Loki had set this up - it would explain all the confusion, the unknowns,  and the general strangeness. Never in all her centuries of life had a Choice made her feel like this.

Anna had found her Chosen, and the question of whether she was a warrior, which side she fought for, if she was a deserter, or just late to the fight, was suddenly irrelevant. She wasn’t lying dead waiting for Anna to pick her up, she wasn't a tortured soul, tired of combat and waiting for release. She was a young, very alive woman trying to hide as much of herself as possible, while also attempting to not get water up her nose.

Anna had found her Chosen. It was obvious and it was insistent and it made the flush creep up higher into her face, now with genuine embarrassment adding itself the list of irrational, unhelpful emotions.

Anna had found her Chosen. And to both party’s all consuming discomfort, she’d found her:

Completely, one hundred percent, naked.

“--can’t believe this…” Anna heard the woman grumble over her clamoring thoughts, “...maybe she doesn’t--.” The woman dissolved into muttering near the waterline. She seemed to reach a conclusion, clutching all of her limbs closer together as she spoke, “Who are you, and what are you doing here?”

Anna felt the Choice rise on her tongue alongside her response. Who was she? Why was she here? Life or Death?

She answered all three questions at once.