Disclaimer: I do not own Frozen

Review reply to Frozenmyheart: Thanks for the review. Also I like that phrase. Rumble crumble. I'm going to see if I can slip it into a conversation at work now, just for kicks.

A/n: Well, this is it. The final chapter. After discovering that everyone who's reviewed wants something entirely different for the ending, I am fully expecting perhaps one person to approve of it (for the avoidance of doubt, the substance of the ending is the same as in the first draft. I haven't changed it in accordance with any of the reviews). I genuinely had no idea I'd have that breadth of opinion. But that's enough covering my own back. It's midnight and I need to be in work in 9.5 hours so thank you to everyone who has read along - whether you reviewed, favourited, put this on alert, or are simply along for the ride. You are all awesome and I only hope that you enjoy this final chapter and have enjoyed the story overall. Geth, over and out.

5) The Knowing

"Wow, you look terrible."

Elsa glares at Anna as she enters the meeting room where Elsa is working. She came in here for some peace and quiet. Damn whoever told Anna where she was. Damn whoever knew that Elsa will never punish anyone who sends Anna to her, no matter how busy Elsa is.

"Thank you, Anna. I love you too."

Anna's eyes crinkle as she smiles and despite her aching feet and painful exhaustion, Elsa has to fight to keep from doing the same. She will never get tired of making Anna smile. She glances back at the petitions she is reading. She ended up missing them this morning, knowing that her tired state would probably lead her to make some on-the-spot unjust decisions. Instead, she requested that they be written down. Her idea was to work through them quickly and efficiently.

Anna peeks over. "'Stop complaining, it's just a painting. I'll buy you one myself if it'll make you happy.' Are you actually going to say that?"

Elsa snatches the page away. "No," she says. "Obviously I am not going to tell people that they should grow up and sort their own problems out when it's about who owns a terrible replica painting of some flowers. I might think it but I won't say it. Nor am I going to buy anyone a painting. It was just the first thing that came into my head." She looks again at the petition. "Bah. I'm offering judgment for the respondent. It might have been the claimant's first but the respondent bought it from the thief in good faith and it's the thief who should be chased."

"You're grouchy today."

"I didn't get much sleep."

There's a twinkle in Anna's eyes as she says, "I can't think why."

"You know why."

"Wait, what? You're admitting it?"

"Admitting what? I was at that ball – your ball – until the early hours of this morning and I had to wake up a few hours later."

Anna keeps grinning. "You can tell me, you know."

"I just did." Seeing the amusement in Anna's eyes, she groans. "Anna, I'm far too tired for this. What do you think I did last night?"

The amusement disappears quickly. Part of Anna shrinks and Elsa feels terrible.

"Just … I mean, when I left – which was pretty late, you know – you and David were looking pretty close. You know, with his arm around you and all and I thought-"

She closes her eyes. "Nothing you're thinking happened. We managed to get rid of the last few guests and then went to our separate rooms. Where I fell on my bed, slept for a few hours, and woke up with aching feet." She opens her eyes again. "Why did I try dancing in those shoes?"

"Is that- Um, OK. Sure. Yeah."

If Anna asks a question, Elsa has to answer it. So Anna isn't asking.

"Anna-"

"I'm sorry," she says quickly. "I shouldn't have said anything. I mean, I know it's a touchy issue for you and that's why we had the whole plan. How, uh, how'd that go by the way?"

Finally, Elsa smiles. "It … well, it wasn't a huge success but … Baron Lars approached me to ask if I'd ever consider allowing members of the court to court Burakoemin women. It seems he's quite taken with a girl called…" She scrunches her face as she tries to pronounce the name. "Ang-arad? Anaharad?"

"Oh, Angharad. C'mon, didn't you even try to learn their names?"

"I learnt their names, I just can't pronounce them. Anyway, I assume Lars can because David told me he received a similar question from An… from the girl."

"Angharad's your age."

"Fine, the woman."

"You really are grouchy today."

"Yes, well. Anyway, I told him that I was happy with it if David was. Of course, David said the same thing. So … hopefully that will bloom into something. David's writing a letter to his father outlining our idea, along with the betrothal agreement as it is. Maybe it will work. Maybe it won't."

"You don't seem too worried about it," Anna says and then puts her hand to her mouth. Elsa regards her as fondness washes over her. Anna is about as good at hiding her feelings as Elsa is at pronouncing Burakoemin names.

"You can ask, if you want."

Anna hesitates but something in Elsa's face must convince her because she says, "Were you telling the truth? You left the party and went straight to bed?" She pauses and says, "Only, someone said they saw you going to David's room and-"

Elsa raises a hand. "OK, I almost told the truth. I left the party with David and I was in his room very briefly – I'd guess about ten minutes – and then I left. We wanted to talk about how the party went and the library was too much of an effort."

"Isn't your room closer?"

Elsa looks away. Her room is closer but it's also the only part of her life that doesn't belong to anyone else. Anna's more-or-less the first person to be invited there since their parents died.

"Yes," she says because that is, technically, the right answer. Seeing Anna's curiosity, she sighs. It still takes a few seconds to build up the courage, which is ridiculous because conversation like this shouldn't be about courage. There shouldn't be wariness. They should just … be. "If you must know," she starts but that's too prim a tone and Anna will feel bad because she'll think she's guilted Elsa into admitting this. And, OK, some of it is guilt but there's a part of Elsa that wants to tell Anna. "OK, I went back to his room to talk about the party. And we did. And then…" She coughs, trying to fight the blush she can feel coming. "We, uh, we kissed. Again." Anna giggles. Elsa scowls. "What?"

"You just looked so cute – adorable, I mean. Embarrassed. It's only kissing, Elsa." And then the blush – which has hit Elsa – also creeps up on Anna's face. "I'm sorry," she says quickly and how many times has Anna apologised today? "I shouldn't tease you." Before Elsa can say anything, she says, "So, uh, was it, uh, better than the last time? That's an optional question by the way. You know what? Never mind, I'm glad the plan went we-"

"It was better," Elsa admits, thinking of that moment at the end of their discussion, when David pointed out that one maybe wasn't exactly a roaring success and Elsa heard herself say that maybe David was right. They would at least be miserable together. And his hand was on her arm and he leaned forward. "I think. I'm not sure."

"How can you not be sure? Either it felt better or it didn't."

Elsa crosses her arms. "It … it felt nice, I guess. Pleasant enough. But I think maybe I was just prepared for it this time. I don't think I had the urge to, uh, how did you say it? Snog him senseless?"

Anna snorts. "Sorry," she says again. "Only, somehow, that phrase just doesn't sound right coming from you."

Elsa smiles. Anna's so good at this – at making people feel at ease. If she could only learn to think before she speaks most of the time, rather than some of the time, she could be a diplomat. Maybe.

"You know what I mean. He's nice. We get on well. But."

"Maybe you're overthinking it."

"And maybe I'm not."

Anna shrugs. "Maybe you aren't. I guess you're the only one who can tell." She pouts. "This isn't nearly as exciting as I hoped it would be, by the way. Especially after you told me I'm not allowed to tell you if I-"

"That still applies, little sister. What I am going to assume is that when you and Kristoff left, he left the castle and you went to your room where you promptly fell asleep. I do not want to know if anything else occurred."

"I-"

"Partly because if I find out you and Kristoff are sharing more than kisses, the law actually says I have to make you two marry. I checked. Believe me, one forced marriage is enough for me to handle right now."

"What? It does not say that."

"It does. I'll even show you the scroll. It's a fairly old law but it's been enforced before. If anyone in the royal line has sex before marriage – especially women, apparently – the monarch must force that person to marry the other person. It's to stop royal children being born out of wedlock."

"What if I slept with a girl?"

Elsa blinks. "Um. Actually, the law is gender neutral so I guess… I mean, we don't allow marriage between two men or two women. I suppose I could write a law allowing that first then make you do it. I don't suppose it's ever come up before. At least, the monarch probably didn't know about it. Why? Is there something you want to tell me?"

"No," Anna says and laughs. "OK, one more. Say you do go and sleep with David. Does that mean you have to marry him?"

"What? You mean do I force myself to marry him?"

"Yeah."

"Yes, Anna. I tell myself that I've been extremely naughty and then I hold an ice pick to my own back all the way up the aisle."

"Do you really get to use an ice pick?"

"Anna, have I ever told you that you can be extremely annoying sometimes?"

Anna only laughs. "I like grouchy you. You're a lot more fun this way. Well, let me know how Lars and Angharad work out and what David's father says." She makes her way to the door. "Elsa?"

Elsa braces herself for the next joke. "Yes?"

"Thanks for telling me. About you and David." She smiles, and this time, it's her sweet smile. "I like being able to talk to you about these things." She pauses. "You know, apart from you threatening to make me marry Kristoff."

"If you sleep together and feel the need to tell me."

Anna laughs. "I love you, Elsa. Don't ever change."

In the days following the ball, there is an almost relaxed atmosphere in the castle. With the message in Burakoem, there is nothing Elsa or David can do, and both of them are determined to enjoy the calm. Elsa doesn't talk about the betrothal to David or Anna at all. Instead, she continues to spend some time each day talking to David and dinner each evening with Anna.

There are still questions between her and Anna of course. But around those questions, memories begin to emerge. She doesn't know which of them starts it but once or twice, they talk about funny little habits their mother had, or the way their father would always tuck his chair under the table. Elsa says once that she always wished she had the royal family's strawberry-blonde hair and Anna reminds her of the day she decided to dye her hair bright blonde.

As their chuckles subside, Anna says, "It doesn't hurt as much now." Elsa doesn't need to ask what Anna is talking about because she agrees. Memories of four walls and seasons passing outside a window seem less important than dancing at a ball, or playing with snowmen, or even crying in a library while her sister holds her.

Sometimes Anna talks to David with Elsa but, mostly, she leaves them alone. He is still nervous and respectful but he's definitely relaxed since their first meeting. She tells him the innocent stories from her childhood – Anna's childhood, really – and he tells her tales of growing up with two older brothers, of green hills and more sheep and rain than any country should sensibly have. She almost wishes this period of time could last forever.

But then David's messenger returns from Burakoem, stating that the king would like to speak to his son in person. It's not as bad as the message implies, however, for the king also gives permission for Angharad and a few others to remain in Burakoem. In fact, David is the only one required to return to Burakoem.

Anna and Elsa talk about the likelihood of the plan continuing. Most of their conversations focus on that. Elsa doesn't know if she misses the other, probing conversations. She feels as though she and Anna are almost as close as they were when they were children but that almost is a big gap. Of course, there are things Elsa knows now that she didn't know before. Anna's favourite toy was a doll. When she tried to run away, when she was twelve, she did make it to the festival. She'd never kissed anyone before Kristoff. She likes strong-tasting drinks. She genuinely did talk to pictures on the wall and, in fact, still does it when she's stressed. Every year, on her birthday, she used to wish that Elsa would come out and give Anna her present in person – but, similarly, one of the reasons she knew Elsa loved her was because Elsa's present was always something Anna wanted. A small proof that Elsa listened.

There are still so many things they haven't discussed and, as time goes on, she doesn't know if they ever will. Maybe they don't need to. Maybe Anna's never expressly said why she was so eager to marry a man after just two hours but Elsa knows, from idle comments and from her own observations that Anna was desperately lonely when they were children and that she felt – perhaps not unfairly – that much of their parents' attention went to Elsa. Then, of course, there was the disappearance of Elsa. Sometimes, Elsa thinks that the trolls should not have left Anna with the fun memories of their childhood. Perhaps Anna would not have been so desperately attached to Elsa if she didn't have those memories to cling to.

But then, if Anna hadn't had those memories, maybe she wouldn't have trusted Elsa. Maybe she wouldn't have tried to save her.

Eyes wide, hand raised, a cape caught mid-swirl. The sound of nothing is almost deafening.

So maybe Anna has never said but Elsa feels as though she can guess much of it. It still feels like a gap between them. But it's beginning to feel like a gap that maybe, just maybe, she can cross. One day.

On that last day, there is one more dinner, one more excursion, and, finally, a library conversation with David. Somehow, the library has become their place. Elsa likes how all his awkwardness and shyness has melted in here, how he knows where many of the books are, how his eyes dance with humour. She likes how she can enter, feeling exhausted, and he'll make her laugh within minutes. She knows most of these things are to do with David and not with the library but she's beginning to associate the room with laughter. Smiles. And uncertainty and trepidation. It was the place of her first kiss. Not a place that speaks to her of happiness, necessarily, but a place that makes her feel.

As evening turns to night, they kiss again. David says it's for tradition and she doesn't stop him but she feels … she doesn't know. And it's frustrating because she doesn't know if this is because of how she grew up or if she would always have been this way. She doesn't think she's repressing anything but there's still that part that says, you can't feel that. You can't let him know and she doesn't know what he shouldn't know.

"Are you OK? I'm not that bad at this, am I?"

He's smiling but not his eyes. That's one thing she doesn't like about him. It reminds her too much of herself.

"Do you feel anything?" she says and then puts a hand to her mouth as he freezes but it's too late, the words are out and she can't take them back.

He coughs. The stoic expression he wore so often in the first visit returns. "I…"

"Don't answer," she says. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked." She tries to smile. "Anna always does things like that. Says something inappropriate. She always apologises to me but often, she just goes with it. I think maybe she rubbed off on me and … I'm rambling, aren't I?"

Is this what Anna feels like? All the time?

"You can ask," he says. "If we ever did get married, see, I like to think we'd be the kind of couple that would at least check if the other person's enjoying themselves." Which says a lot about him because she knows of several noble marriages of convenience and power where one party probably isn't enjoying themselves at all. "So, uh, yes. Um." He shuffles slightly. "Truth is, I do like you, Elsa. I don't feel nothing but I'm not sure I feel quite as strongly as I should though. But," he says quietly, "I feel as though maybe I could. To me, it feels as though there could be something." His dark eyes pierce hers and he smiles gently. "It's not the same for you, is it? I can tell."

Suddenly, she wants to cry. She starts to put the mask she wears so well into place but that gentle smile dissolves it. "I don't know," she whispers. "Anna says maybe I'm overthinking it but I think maybe I'm broken. It would make sense." She looks at her hands. "I don't even think someone like me is supposed to reproduce."

He is quiet for a very long time and now she feels terrible because he isn't Anna and shouldn't have to listen to her confess her innermost fears. No one should. That's her burden to shoulder.

"I don't think not feeling anything when kissing means you're broken," he says quietly. "If that's how you are then that's that then. And it might not be that you don't ever feel anything. Maybe we're just not meant to be." He sits down next to her and places a gentle arm around her shoulders. She doesn't flinch and it surprises her because it wasn't that long ago that she couldn't even hold an item, let alone a person. "You're far too quick to assume that if something goes wrong or something isn't normal, it's your fault."

"It usually is," she mumbles.

"Some things don't have fault. Some things just are." He pauses. "I still think, mind, if we had to marry, it wouldn't be that bad. Or, probably not."

"It wouldn't be fair on you."

"And it'd be fair on you then?" He smiles slightly. "See, this is exactly what I mean. OK, say we get married and you never want to touch me but I want to touch you. You'll spend the entire time feeling bad about that. I know you will. See, we'll both be miserable about it. So it's equally bad for both of us."

She looks at him. "You're too nice," she says. "That's the problem."

"And you're not? See, more things in common. Just think of all the conversations we could have. We wouldn't have time for anything else – we'll be too busy talking about which one of us is the most hard-done by. Besides, if it's going to bother you that much, how about this compromise? I'll tell you who I find attractive and you give me written consent to have an affair."

She can't help it: she laughs. "David, you'd be the husband of the Queen of Arendelle. People would feel obliged to tell me you were having an affair." She pauses. "You haven't been talking to Anna, have you? This is exactly the sort of idea she'd have."

"Does that mean it's a good one?"

"Anna's ideas are generally either very good or very bad. She's not one for the middle ground."

"Well, you see, the beauty of the plan is that you then show people the written consent. Besides, if you find someone attractive, you can ask me for written consent. See, we're getting the whole two-way thing down now."

She looks at him. Then she shrugs out from under his arm. Before he can ask – or not ask – why, she places her hands on his shoulders and kisses him firmly. His arms wind around her back as he gently kisses back.

She's very aware of his hands and his lips. The fluttering of his eyelids and should she close her eyes too? She slides her hands down his back because it seems like she should do something and he shivers and this is-

It starts to snow. He moves back and glances around, confused. "You could have said stop, you know."

She concentrates and makes it stop snowing. "S-sorry," she says. "I lose control, sometimes. When I … uh… yeah."

"I see. Do you often, uh, yeah?"

She shoves him gently to cover up her embarrassment. She isn't sure what triggered the snowfall. It could be the uncertainty of what to do. It could be the realisation that she wasn't acting at all proper. It could be the embarrassment. Or maybe she felt something. She thinks maybe that time she did. Or maybe she's imagining it. Maybe she wants to think she felt something.

"I'll see what my father has to say," David says. "Remember, he might agree to the plan and let us call off the betrothal. It may be that we're worrying about nothing."

She thinks of the way he makes jokes to alleviate tension, the way he doesn't push on touchy topics, the fact that he doesn't even hesitate to touch her, the only person apart from her sister who doesn't.

She thinks of kisses that didn't make her feel what she thinks she should feel but didn't feel bad either.

Elsa, don't you want to be happy?

"Maybe we are," she says. She doesn't look at him. "But if we're not then I think maybe…" She peeks up at him. "Maybe we don't have to be miserable."

He smiles and she smiles back.

Anna watches Elsa stand at the dock until the ship has disappeared from view.

She walks next to her sister and reaches for her hand. Elsa doesn't react, just stares at the sea with an expression that's halfway to the expression she wears when she looks at Anna and sees whatever it is that haunts her. Anna squeezes Elsa's hand gently. After a few seconds, Elsa squeezes back.

Slowly, Anna leads Elsa back to the palace, not once letting go of those ice-cold fingers.

Like last time, Elsa throws herself into her work and Anna disappears to do other things. Elsa needs the space. Sometimes, Anna marvels that Elsa is as social as she is, given how much of her life she's spent in a room decorated only by watermarks. Then again, Anna grew up behind grey walls herself.

As they eat dinner, Anna doesn't ask any awkward questions. To be honest, she doesn't feel as though many of her questions are awkward anymore. There are topics they avoid and one day, she might finally summon the courage to tackle them. Kristoff once called her fearless but she wouldn't describe herself that way. Fearless is the absence of fear and Anna has plenty of that. But her fear is of Elsa's eyes, hurt; of being held between walls with nothing to do and no one to speak to; of saying words which break people; of one day having children and, with the best intentions, slowly crushing them; of oh Anna. If only there was someone out there who loved you and too slow, too slow, she'll never make it; of nothing: just the colour of black. Maybe some of those are things she can do little about now but she won't be the one to break Elsa. Not when Elsa is so much … better.

She watches her sister as they eat. She wears her hair loose – has done since the Great Thaw – but the rest of her is maintained to a prim perfection which Anna is unable to copy. She taps her goblet (filled with fruit juice and not wine, of course) and Anna knows she's thinking of something that isn't terrible but isn't great either. When Elsa is happy, she'll fidget more; when she's upset, she's still and Anna knows it's concentration.

She still doesn't know if Elsa likes her powers.

Elsa catches her eye and smiles because she's Elsa and she almost never tells Anna if she's upset.

Anna will ask. One day.

Three nights later, Anna presents Elsa with cake. Or, it's supposed to be cake. It's kind of floppy. Anna's sure she followed the recipe perfectly but it doesn't look like it did in the picture. The icing is all over the place and although it's filled with berries, she doesn't think they're meant to stick out at those angles.

Elsa looks at it questioningly.

It's on the tip of her tongue, like always.

Who are you, Elsa?

"It's cake."

"Oh. Yes, of course it is. Thanks, Anna." Elsa peers at it and turns to Anna. "Why have you made me cake? Your birthday's the next one."

"I thought you might need it."

"To poison my enemies?"

"Hey!" Elsa laughs and ducks as Anna scoops some dripping icing and flings it at her. "I put time and effort into that."

"Thanks," Elsa says again. She regards the cake and then pokes one of the berries.

"Cloudberries," Anna says proudly. "I had to beg Birgit for them."

Elsa coughs. "Um, Anna?"

"Yeah?"

"You, ah, you know I'm allergic to cloudberries, right?"

"What?" She stares. "Since when?"

"Since forever? Don't you remember when I was six and my face became all swollen after I ate a couple?" Elsa considers this. "I suppose you wouldn't. You were barely even three at the time. You'll have to take my word for it."

Another thing she didn't know.

Anna looks gloomily at the cake. "Great. What a waste."

"You could eat it?"

"I hate cloudberries."

"Really? But I hear everyone say how nice they are."

"Well, that's why I made it for you. I thought you were one of those people." Elsa catches her eye and then looks away. "What?"

"Nothing."

"Spit it out, Elsa."

"It's nothing important. It's just that this made me think … you know, I haven't known David that long and there are things about him I don't know and that unsettles me. But I still feel like I know parts of him. And I was thinking about how you and Kristoff came together – you two didn't know each other that long but he ran into a blizzard to find you and then you two began courting. But you couldn't have known that much about him." She fiddles with the table's edge. "I suppose what I'm thinking about is … it must be possible not to know everything about someone but still know them. You know enough about who they are not to worry about the rest of it."

Anna thinks about this. She hadn't known huge amounts about Kristoff. Not how he came to live with the trolls, nor how he founded his business. Not his favourite food, his favourite drink, his favourite melody. Not how he came to learn music. Not how long he'd known Sven for. But she'd known that he was snarky and socially awkward. She'd known that he had some issues understanding hygiene as a concept. She'd known that he was the kind of person who would throw a girl he'd just met to safety before himself. That he was the kind of person who would risk his life for someone else. She'd known enough.

And then there's Hans. She'd thought she'd known enough about him but she'd barely known anything.

Where's the dividing line? When can you say that not knowing someone likes trout or is allergic to cloudberries doesn't matter? When can you say that knowing how someone grew up, their favourite foods, their hopes, isn't enough?

Elsa is as fragile as the ice she wields.

"Elsa," she says, "Are you going to marry David?" When Elsa hesitates, Anna adds, "You don't need to tell me that you two kissed again by the way. I could tell."

Elsa blushes – she always blushes about talk like that even though she can deliver innuendoes with a perfectly straight expression and tone – and says, "I don't know. It depends on Lars and Angharad, and on David's father. If either of those falls through then … yes. I'll have to."

"And if they don't?"

Elsa shrugs. "I'd like more time, then. Maybe one day. Maybe not. I don't think I know him well enough to say I want to marry him but I think I know enough that we could maybe be almost happy. At least for a while." She smiles slightly. "I'm good with almost happy."

Which is still one of the saddest things she's heard Elsa say about herself.

Elsa always, always puts the needs of everyone else before her.

And that question tugs at her.

The only thing I would like less than to court these princes is for you to be forced into something like that. I want you to be happy, Anna.

"Do you … do you ever wish you weren't the Queen, Elsa?"

Elsa nods, although she looks confused by the subject-change. "Often. I feel as though I'm walking on the tips of icicles, trying desperately not to fall. But this is what I'm trained to do. And if I didn't help, who would? These are my people. I love them." She grins crookedly. "But you've talked to David about this before."

She has. Somehow, nothing Elsa has said surprises her. Elsa was born to be a queen.

"Do you ever wish you weren't the Crown Princess?" Elsa says. "Or that you'd been Queen yourself?"

It's a probing question. Elsa asks so few of those. But Anna feels, more and more, that she can answer them. Elsa is willing to face them. And she can face them with Elsa.

"Sometimes," she says honestly. "Being Crown Princess is scarier than I thought it'd be. The amount of responsibility is scary. You set me tasks and I think, I don't know how to do this. But … somehow, I manage to do it anyway." She smiles at Elsa before turning her mind to the second question. "It's not so much that I wish I were Queen but … it would have been nice not to be the one who always came second, you know?"

Elsa nods. "Even when we were apart, I got more attention, didn't I?" Ice coats and melts from her hand. "Another failing of our parents."

Oh, Anna, what if he does fall in love with me and wants more than just being with me and I remain … frozen?

"Elsa, do you really still love our parents?"

Elsa is quiet for a long time. "I do," she says finally. Ice-blue eyes meet hers. "They weren't perfect – I think even growing up, I knew what they were doing wasn't right – but they tried. And they gave up so much to save me. You know, in the history books, there are other stories of children born with powers. Many parents kill a powerful child, or abuse their powers. Mother and Father did neither. And even though they were terrified – literally terrified – that I would kill them or you, they refused to let me see that. I only found out when I went through their papers. Everything they did, they did out of love." Her fingers tap the table. "I can understand why you hate them, though." The fingers still. "Sometimes, I wish I could."

They look at each other. Anna thinks of all she doesn't know about Elsa. How much of Elsa is propriety and how much is gut instinct. The words which broke her, out on that fjord. The times she sees Marshmallow. What she thinks would have happened if her powers had never been revealed. Whether she likes her powers. Her favourite story. Her allergies.

But then she thinks of Elsa, whose favourite colour is blue and whose favourite season is spring. Who likes trout but, it turns out, is allergic to cloudberries. Who misses dancing desperately but doesn't really miss music. Even thinking of shared kisses makes her blush. She can discuss foreign policy, economics, history, politics, at the drop of a hat, but is often lost when it comes to human feelings. She won't drink alcohol because she's constantly wary of losing control but she will drink stimulant to stay awake. Despite everything, she loves the parents who isolated her and left her to run an economic mess. She's spent her life repressing her feelings, to the point that she can't even tell if she feels attraction and thinks close to happy is an acceptable standard. Even so, she feels enough that she would rather sacrifice herself than see Anna hurt. She made up a rank for Kristoff because Anna was anxious. She told Anna that she could ask anything and she would answer it, and has never once gone back on that, no matter how painful the topic. She has never probed Anna's life too deeply because Anna isn't quite ready to tackle all of it. One day.

Elsa is watching her carefully and she wonders, if she's learnt all of this about Elsa then what has Elsa learnt about her, in all of her small questions and quiet observations?

I'm sorry, Anna. I never wanted to hurt you.

Should she ask?

You can ask me anything, OK, Anna?

Does she need to ask?

"You OK there, Anna?"

"Yeah," Anna says. She looks at Elsa. "Yeah, I am. Anyway, I'd better take this away. I bet either Kristoff or Olaf would eat it. Guess we'll see who I find first."

Elsa raises an eyebrow. "Is that the end of the questions then?"

"Yeah."

"Nothing else you want to ask?"

I love you, Elsa. Don't ever change.

Anna smiles and kisses Elsa on the cheek. "Maybe one day," she says. "But for now, I think I'm good."

Fin

Note: 12/01/2015 - Sorry for putting this here but it does spoil the ending slightly. Due to numerous requests/queries about what happened to David and Elsa, there is now a sequel. It is called "You Want This To Be a Love Story?" and can be found on my profile, if you're interested. If you're not interested, no problem, enjoy the rest of your day!