Teardrops

The night is cool, the bedchamber a world of blue shadows – blue as the crest of the North Mountain against a purple sky at dawn.

The night is still. Still, save for the rustle of Anna's nightdress as she slides it from her shoulders…

Elsa shuts her eyes, sinking her head back, letting Anna's warm lips press softly against her neck.

She shudders. Unbidden, the tears begin to spill from beneath her lids.

She hears Anna gasp, feels her stoke the wetness trickling down her cheek.

"Elsa, you're crying! Why?"

(Even in shock, Anna's voice is like warm honey, so tender and caring… so full of concern…)

Why?

How can Elsa begin to tell? In the blur of her tears, she sees a vision of herself in youth, pale and afraid, shivering and quivering like the light of a candle as it sputters and dies. She sees a ribbon of grass and knows it to be the courtyard, the place where Anna always played alone because her sister… because she… She thinks of the years she spent repulsed by herself because of the pain she was bringing Anna, even as she kept longing for Anna at the same time, dreaming of her sweet laugh and eventually…

She thinks of the first time she imagined Anna's body entwining with hers, thinks of how she had nearly vomited afterwards, curling inward… burying herself deeper in the depths of her self-disgust…

She had thought there was no hope for her. No matter what happened, one way or another, Anna would hate her. Anna had… every reason… to hate her.

And yet, when Elsa could endure it no longer and laid bare her soul to her sister, had she recoiled? Had she cursed her, spat upon her? No.

No.

And now, here they both are, in this bed, and Elsa can feel the warmth and the silkiness of Anna's skin against hers, can feel her love and it's real, it's all real – not a dream, not the taunt of her guilt. It's happening. And it's just… it's all too much.

Elsa is happy – purely, perfectly happy. What's more, some secret place in her heart is opening and she almost feels she deserves that happiness.

And those stirrings of joy, so foreign and strange and wonderful to her, overwhelm her.

How can she put that into words that Anna can understand?

Letting the tears flow freely, she simply whimpers, "I love you… I love you so much."

Anna clings to her tightly, letting her weep, kissing her nose, her cheeks, her forehead, whispering affirmations of her own love over and over again.