It had been Anna's idea to visit Ingrid's family farm and meet the rest of the Andersens in the first place. It would get Elsa out of the castle and into the fresh air, and give Elsa and Ingrid an excuse for more time together. Anna had pushed Elsa and Ingrid together, and she was happy it worked. She wanted her sister to have a chance at fun, and even if their relationship was, well, different, they made each other happy. If Anna just happened to satisfy her curiosity about Ingrid and her background, so much the better.

What she wasn't counting on was spending hours in a carriage with Elsa and Ingrid.

Elsa, Anna, and Ingrid entered the plain carriage just outside the royal stables in Arendelle. Anna gave her hand to Elsa to help her up. Elsa said, "Thank you, Anna," and gave her hand a subtle squeeze. As Anna was about to climb in, Ingrid offered her hand to Anna. She looked at it for a moment, then took it and stepped up into the carriage. Ingrid followed, carrying a basket, and sat next to Elsa on the bench facing Anna.

It wasn't the royal carriage, just a regular household one, and the driver wasn't wearing the royal livery. The trip was a break from the formality of court, so they didn't want to attract attention. Still, the carriage seemed comfortable enough, to begin with.

As they left the city limits, Elsa reached over to pat Anna's knee. "You're looking lovely as ever, Anna."

Anna chuckled, shrugged. "Tell me again when we get off this carriage in half an hour. See if I look so fresh then."

"Yes, it would be a good idea to stop for a rest halfway there. Remind me, Ingrid."

Ingrid smiled up at the attention. "Of course."

"Wait, what?" blurted Anna. "Halfway?"

Elsa smiled indulgently. "It's over an hour to Lillefjord from here. I thought you knew." She leaned back, her smile turning a bit wicked, her arm draped over Ingrid who was snuggled next to her. "Hours enclosed together, you and I, with nothing but privacy? Are you sure this was your idea?"

"Elsa…" said Anna, and raised her eyebrows in a warning.

Elsa's face was suddenly serious. "I'm sorry. Too far?"

Anna grimaced, and nodded towards Ingrid. "No, not that, I mean, you know…"

"Oh." Elsa kissed Ingrid on the temple. "Ingrid doesn't get jealous."

Ingrid nodded. "Please. Don't mind me." She patted the basket. "There's books and refreshments if you get bored later."

As they rode on, Anna felt off-balance. When Anna had a piece of pastry from the basket, Elsa moistened her fingertip and wiped the icing from the corner of Anna's mouth, then licked the icing from her own finger. It was the sort of flirtatious teasing Anna had come to accept from Elsa, but in the next moment Elsa was nuzzling and holding hands with Ingrid as if it hadn't happened. A moment later Elsa asked Ingrid for a book, and as she read Ingrid sat demurely like a perfect servant.

Elsa seemed happy. Ingrid seemed happy. But Anna felt like she was reading a book printed on flimsy paper, with three sets of words showing through. Everything was jumbled up.

When they finally arrived at the Andersen's farm, Anna climbed eagerly out of the carriage, stretching her aching back every which way and pacing stiff-legged up and down the gravel driveway. It had been a long and uncomfortable ride to the Andersen's farm, and not just because she'd been sitting for over an hour. Behind her Elsa descended gracefully, and Ingrid followed her like an echo.

Elsa told the driver to wait for them at the inn in Lillefjord and return that evening, and had Ingrid give him some money for dinner.. When she was done, Ingrid brushed herself off and said, "If I may, I'll go in ahead and prepare everyone for your arrival, if it's all right with you. I'm afraid it'll mean waiting out here for a minute."

Elsa smiled graciously and nodded. "We're here for the fresh air," she said, tipping her head towards Anna. "It'd be a shame not to breathe it for a minute before we go inside." Ingrid curtseyed and dashed ahead to a side door.

Elsa walked slowly back and forth, admiring the farmhouse. It was a U-shaped building open towards them, with off-white walls and a mossy thatched roof. The left and centre sections were the house proper, and the right arm was the barn. "It's lovely. I'm glad you thought of this, Anna. I'm feeling more relaxed already."

Anna continued to massage her own lower back. "Really? I am so stiff. How are you not stiff? Did you get the good bench? Is there a good bench? Wanna trade on the way back?"

"It was your idea to not take the royal carriage, so that no one would make a fuss. Also," and Elsa mock-scowled at her, "not slouching helps."

Anna rolled her eyes, then bumped sideways against Elsa. They laughed softly for a moment. Then Anna looked thoughtful. "Ingrid's taking a while. Think there's a problem?"

Before she finished her question, Ingrid opened the heavy door nearest them in the left part of the house, curtseyed, and swung the door open wide. Elsa strode forward and Anna followed, gravel crunching under their feet.

They entered and saw a long room with walls the same off-white as the outside, a table running down the centre, wood stove in a corner, and every remaining square foot filled by people. At least that's how it felt to Elsa. Ingrid was at the front of the crowd, next to a heavy-set man with a round face and a prominent widow's peak, and a matronly woman with long straight salt-and-pepper hair. "Your Majesty, Your Highness, may I present my parents, Thorsten and Klara Andersen. Mama, Papa, Queen Elsa and Princess Anna." Thorsten bowed, giving them a good view of how far back his slicked-down hair had receded.

Klara curtseyed and said, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness," facing Elsa, "and you, Your Majesty," facing Anna. Ingrid gave her a dismayed look and a quick head-shake. "Oh. Your Highness," she said to Anna, and "Your Majesty" to Elsa. Ingrid moved on to the next couple.

"Your Majesty, Your Highness, may I present my eldest brother Ernst, and his wife Tanja."

Ernst, the image of his father but with more hair and less stomach, bowed sarcastically low to Elsa as he doffed an imaginary hat. "Your Righteous Majesty." He did the same for Anna. "Your Gracious Highness." As he did this, his pretty wife curtseyed with a half-smile and a skeptical look, as if to say that she disapproved of his behaviour but didn't disagree with his attitude.

Out of the side of her mouth Elsa whispered to Anna, "What's their issue?" Anna replied with a tiny shrug.

With a nervous grin, Ingrid continued. "May I present my eldest sister Pia, her husband Mathias Albrecktsen, and their children Hallvard and Elsanna." As they bowed and curtseyed Mathias and Pia's expressions were neutrally pleasant, Hallvard's sombre, and Elsanna's ecstatic.

Anna bent down to ruffle the girl's hair. "Elsanna. That's a pretty name."

Pia explained, "We named her Elsa Anna, after the queen and - I mean, after the two of you. But when Hallvard was little all he could manage was 'Elsanna,' and that's what we call her."

"Mo-om!" said Hallvard, mortified.

"What do you think of it?" Anna asked Elsa.

"I definitely approve of 'Elsanna'. I like it."

"Me too," said Anna.

Little Elsanna took a step towards Elsa and said, in her outside voice, "I believe in you!"

Baffled, Elsa smiled politely and said, "Thank you. I believe in you, too."

By then the restless muttering and milling around that had started at the far end of the room had reached the queen and princess, and the party had returned to its original disorder. Before Ingrid could introduce them properly, another of her brothers stepped forward. "Pleasure to meet you 'Queen Elsa', 'Princess Anna'. I'm Truls, this is my wife Merete, and the kids are…" He looked at her.

"Around here somewhere. You'll meet them soon enough." She put out a hand to shake.

Ingrid hissed frantically, "You don't just shake hands with the queen, you wait for her to offer. It's not done." She looked back and forth, her arms pulled in, looking for some way to make the chaos go away.

"It's fine," said Elsa as she took Merete's hand.

"Yeah, it's okay" said Anna. "We came here to get a break from protocol. And to meet your family, of course."

"You did your best. We'll…circulate and introduce ourselves. It'll be all right." Elsa didn't care about being disrespected, but she couldn't stand to see the disappointment on Ingrid's face.

Before Elsa could comfort her, Klara put an arm around Ingrid's shoulders and pulled her away to help with the food. "Come along, dear. I've missed having you in the kitchen." She gave her daughter a squeeze as they threaded through the crowd.

"Am I missing something?" Elsa asked Anna.

"I don't know," said Anna, scanning the room. She looked at Elsa again and put a hand on her arm. "Listen, are you okay? Do you want me to stick around?"

"No. But thanks." Elsa straightened her already-straight shoulders. "Well, let's make an appearance."

"That's the spirit," said Anna flatly, and gave Elsa a wry smile and a shrug of apology before they split up to mingle.

Elsa knew that Ingrid had six brothers and sisters, but she had failed to take into account that they would have spouses and children, plus their own friends, friends of the family, and neighbours. As she chatted, concentrating on names and relationships, she realized how much she relied on briefings, guest lists, and protocol to smooth her way at functions. Everyone she met there was friendly, but she had the feeling she was missing an inside joke, and that it was at her expense.

She literally bumped into Ernst again. "Oops. Sorry, queen." He put up his hands in mock-fear. "Don't have me beheaded."

"Don't worry. We haven't had a hanging in nearly eighty years. I'm seriously considering taking capital punishment off the books entirely."

"Right, right. Listen, Ingrid's not around, you can drop the act."

"The act? What act?"

"Come on. Ingrid told a bunch of wild stories about being friends with the queen, so she gets you and Anna to pretend to be royalty to 'prove' she's not making it up."

"I am the queen, and she is my friend. My dear friend."

"Don't get me wrong. I'm glad you're trying to stand up for her. But it's unbelievable enough that she has two friends at all, let alone that they're royalty."

"You don't like your sister?"

"I like her just fine, but she is, you know, not…typical."

Elsa's eyes narrowed. "Neither am I."

Ernst stood a little too close. She could smell the beer on his breath. "I wish you were the queen. I've got a few things I'd like to say to her."

"To me."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. To you."

"Do tell."

He ignored her dangerously raised eyebrow. "For starters, 'you' completely mishandled the whole Weselton thing."

"Did I?"

"A trade embargo? With Weselton? We need Weselton as a trading partner. And the Southern Isles, too. We need the money from Weselton to buy the food from the Southern Isles. Now, no food and no money. That's just shortsighted. Stupid. And it's not like the Duke did anything."

"Besides trying to have me killed."

"But not personally. That was his soldiers. And there's another thing." Ernst gestured with his non-beer-holding hand as he warmed to his subject. "Prince Hans? Sent back home without so much as a slap on the wrist? He should've been executed. At least."

"At least? What comes after 'executed'?"

"You need to make an example. Show people that we mean business, that you can't push Arendelle around. If someone gets out of line, come down on them hard. Send those people a message."

Elsa raised her head, fixing him with her gaze. "Let me see if I understand you correctly. My very first act after taking the throne should be to kill foreign royalty and plunge our country into a bloody war with a more powerful nation, but I should let a man who ordered my death go scot-free because it'd be good for business." Despite their nearness to the wood stove, it grew chilly in that corner of the room. "And that's the message you would send to 'those people': the Queen of Arendelle is bloodthirsty but mercenary. Good thinking."

"Now wait a minute - "

"As for showing people I mean business, I suppose I could start domestically. With someone who's been publicly criticizing the queen, for instance. Do you know what the penalties are for seditious slander?" She smiled sharply. "I do."

Ernst gripped his beer tightly. But before he could respond, his wife Tanja took him by the elbow. "Ernst, I told you not to talk politics. Honestly, people will think you're one of those anti-Skadists." She smiled a half-hearted apology at Elsa. "Now leave Ingrid's friend in peace and come say hi to your cousin Rickard, he came all the way from Steintøyholm," she said, dragging him away.

 Farther down the room, sitting in front of a half-circle of listeners, Ingrid's brother-in-law Jakob Niequist warmed up by strumming a few chords on the mandolin in his lap. "In honour of our guests, 'The Queen's True Love', everyone," he announced. Then he began playing a catchy tune and sang. "Arendelle, sweet Arendelle, Queen Elsa's passions - "

The instrument was yanked from his grasp. He looked up to see Ingrid holding it, her white-knuckled fist wrapped around its neck as if she was trying to strangle the voice out of it. "Her Majesty doesn't want to hear that song."

A grin parted his ginger beard. "It's all right. There was a court case and everything. It's not illegal or whatever."

Her voice as tight as her fist, Ingrid repeated, "Her Majesty does not want to hear that song."

His wife, Ingrid's sister Siv, came to her side. She put one hand on Ingrid's shoulder, the other on the mandolin. "Of course not, Ingrid," she said softly. "He'll play something else. Won't you, dear?"

"But I was - "

"Won't you, dear."

He nodded once, slowly. "Sure, of course."

She gently increased the pressure on the instrument. "Now give him back the mandolin and he'll play something nice. How about The Thirsty Farmer? Everybody likes that one. Okay?"

"I'm sorry," mumbled Ingrid, as her grip on the mandolin loosened enough for Siv to take it from her. "I'll go help Mama some more."

"Siv, what was that about?' asked Jakob after Ingrid had walked away. "I thought you said she was…well, you didn't say she was like that."

"She isn't. She's the sweetest, most gentle soul you'd ever meet. Most of the time. You didn't see her at Anders' funeral, did you."

"No. Why?"

She shook her head. "Never mind." She handed him the mandolin. "Now, 'There was a thirsty farmer,' right?"

He shrugged and resumed playing.

Elsa was at a loss, trying not to bump or be bumped by the milling party guests and family, when Thorsen and Klara came up to her. “Your Majesty,” said Klara, and bobbed her head. “Are you doing all right?”

“Certainly,” said Elsa with a reassuring smile.

“You seemed a little - I mean Your Majesty looked a little uncomfortable. Can we get you anything?”

“Please, just call me 'Elsa'. I've been having a hard enough time getting Ingrid to call me that.”

“I could have a word with her,” said Thorsen.

“No, please no,” said Elsa, raising a hand. She looked around. “And there is one thing you could get me. A place to sit down.”

“No problem,” said Thorsen, putting his hand on the back of the nearest kitchen chair and addressing the ten-year-old seated there. “You there. Hans Peter.”

“Hans Frederick, grandpa.”

“Hans Frederick. Get up and give the lady your seat.”

Moaning at the injustice, Hans Frederick surrendered his chair. “How soon 'til dinner's ready? I'm starving.”

“Dinner's ready when it's ready,” said Klara. “You know that.”

“Can't I have something?”

“You can have a slap on the tongue,” said Thorsen. “Now go help your sister watch the little ones.” Still put-upon, but secretly flattered that he wasn't counted as one of the “little ones”, Hans Frederick slouched away. “Please have a seat, Elsa.”

“Thank you.” Elsa sat on the wooden chair with relief.

“Since you're here,” said Thorsen, “I'd like to, that is we'd like to, Klara and I, we'd like to thank you for everything you've done for Ingrid.”

“My pleasure. She's a faithful servant and a hard worker.”

“Not just giving her a job,” said Klara. “When we lost Anders, Ingrid was in a bad way. We all missed him, of course.”

“God rest his soul,” interjected Thorsen.

“God rest his soul. But Ingrid took it hard. She's always been a quiet one, of course, but still. We all worried about her,” said Klara. Thorsen nodded solemnly. “She doesn't make friends easily. Since she's come to work for you she's doing a lot better. Thank you for looking out for her.”

“Yes, thank you,” added Thorsen.

“Oh, she looks out for me more than I look out for her,” said Elsa. Thorsen and Klara shared a nod. “You…do believe I'm queen, right?”

“Some of the children have had their doubts. I'm sorry,” said Klara.

“I told them to keep their traps shut, but do they listen? No, of course not.” Thorsen shrugged. “Kids,” he said to Elsa with sympathy, referring to sons and daughters who were all older than she was.

“I'll be honest,” said Klara, “when Ingrid sent us that letter about the herring tariffs and how we could get in on the ground floor of the fish-canning business, we had our doubts.”

“Klara talked us into it,” said Thorsen.

“I did not, and you know it, Papa. I just read the letter to you.” Klara turned back to Elsa. “He said to me, 'If she's full of it and we go along with it, we could lose a lot of money. But if she's right and we do nothing, I could never look at her again. And we already don't have any money, so what have we got to lose?' ”

“I may have said that,” conceded Thorsen. “But Ingrid was right, and she's my baby daughter, so if she says you're the queen then as far as I'm concerned it's good enough for me.” He looked sideways at the crowd, picking out Ernst. “And it should be good enough for her brothers and sisters.”

“Now, Thorsen, if Queen Elsa's not bothered, then you leave it be,” said Klara. “Now I have to get back to the stove, but if there's anything we can get you, you just let us know.”

“Thank you, but nothing for now. I am looking forward to dinner. It smells lovely.”

“Thank you!” said Klara, with a proud smile, as she and her husband dived back into the fray.

A smiling woman with hair the colour of unvarnished pine approached Elsa and curtseyed. “Good evening, Your Majesty. My name's Katja.”

“Elsa. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Pleasure to meet you.” She squatted down to talk to Elsa, steadying herself with a hand on the back of Elsa's chair. Lowering her voice, she said, “I simply have to congratulate you on the job you're doing. You haven't broken character once.”

Elsa straightened, leaning slightly away from the hand on her chair. “I'm sure I don't know what you mean.”

“It's all right, you can step out of character. I'm an actress, too. Not professional, of course. I must say that anyone meeting you would believe you really were the queen.”

Elsa half-smiled. “If they didn't, treaty negotiations would be a lot more difficult.”

Katja laughed. “You are so good. Which brings me to my point. I'm with the Little Theatre of Lillefjord. Well, I say Lillefjord, but we have people from all over, from here to the capital. Which is my point. We're adapting Her Mother's Daughter - have you read it? - adapting it for the stage, and you would be perfect for Mrs. Hummel. We have some good people, but no one's really the 'upper-class matriarch' type. We'd have to age you up a bit, but I'm sure you'd do fine.” She leaned in, and dropped her voice lower. “And frankly, with your discipline, I think you and I could teach the rest of them a thing or two, eh?”

Elsa gave her a bland, polite smile. “I'm flattered, but I'm afraid my duties at the castle keep me far too busy.”

“If it's any help, you could get a lift from the capital with my husband Gunner. He works in town.”

“No. Thank you.”

“Well, if you change your mind, just tell Ingrid and she can put it in her next letter to the family.” Katja stood up, and paused just before she walked away. “You are so good,” she said, shook her head, and walked away.

Elsa pondered why it bothered her that almost no one was treating her as the queen. The whole idea was to get away from the formality of court life for a day, and she was succeeding beyond her expectations. So where's the problem?

Elsa idly scanned the room, and saw that in the far corner Anna was on the floor, surrounded by nearly a dozen of the Andersen children. Elsa couldn't hear what she was saying, but she could see that Anna was making up a story using two dolls, a toy soldier, and a Dala horse. The children were fascinated, and Anna was glowing. Elsa felt a beautiful ache in her chest, like the one she often held for her sister, but sweeter. She's so happy. She's so good with children. She would be a wonderful mother, much better than I ever could. She deserves to have that. And I could never give that to her. She sighed. Just one more thing Kristoff can give her that I never could.

She silently watched Anna until, with a start, Elsa realized that one of the children, a boy of about six, was now less than three feet away. He stared at her with the unnerving directness of a small child.

“Yes?” she asked, mildly.

“You're mean,” he said with conviction.

Elsa blinked. “Am I?” He nodded. “How so?”

Understanding the tone of the question if not the phrasing, he said, “You're gonna take me away and throw me in prison.”

“Really?” Elsa leaned forward, resting her chin in her hand. “And why would I do that?”

“Mama says if I'm bad you're gonna send your guards to take me away and lock me in prison, and it's cold and dark and you'll never let me go out again.” He balled his little fists. “You're mean,” he added for emphasis.

Elsa closed her eyes for a moment, because rolling them would set a bad example. The boy's mother, not up to disciplining him by herself, was using Elsa as a bogeyman. Her first impulse was to find this mother and have a word with her about child-rearing. But that would make an uncomfortable party a little more uncomfortable.

Her second impulse was to tell the boy that she would never lock him up in prison. But as much as she was annoyed at being used like that, suddenly removing a thing that was keeping this child well-behaved would end badly. Not to mention that it was a promise that she wouldn't want to be held to once the boy was old enough to get into real trouble.

She saw that the boy's lower lip was starting to quiver. As much as he was standing up to her, he was scared. And he didn't deserve to be scared, especially of her. “Please, it's okay, um…what's your name?”

“Kennet.”

“Very well. Now, Kennet, have you ever done anything bad before?” He started to vibrate with nervousness. “It's okay, Kennet. You can tell me.”

Her gentle voice began to work its magic on him. “…myeah,” he murmured.

“And I haven't thrown you in prison so far, have I?”

“…nnno.”

“Then why would I start now?”

“…mmdunno.” Her argument still hadn't convinced him.

“Now Kennet. I'm not saying I would lock you up for being bad, but if I did - if - I would certainly not lock you up forever. Not for just being bad. And I absolutely wouldn't lock up a little boy in someplace cold and dark, would I? Do you think I would do something like that to a good little boy like you?”

He gave her a long, appraising look. “D'you promise?”

“Absolutely,” said Elsa, crossing her heart. He remained uncertain. “All right. Now, Kennet, do you think you could find me some paper and something to write on?” He nodded. “Okay. Then bring them to me.”

She pulled her chair to the table and moved aside a place setting so she'd have room to work. He came back with a pen and an old invoice that was blank on the back. She worked on the paper, consulting with Kennet as she did. In a few minutes the document was complete. It read:

The bearer of this document, being less than thirteen years of age, on the condition of being imprisoned for being bad is entitled to the following considerations from Her Majesty's Prisons:

To be held for a period of no more than 48 hours, no more than once per calendar month.

To a prison cell that is well-lit in daytime, reasonably spacious, and of a comfortable temperature.

To three meals per day, served at usual mealtimes, one of which may include dessert at Her Majesty's pleasure and on condition that all served vegetables are eaten.

To bring one toy and one picture book for the bearer's unrestricted use, outside of meal and bath times. For the purposes of this document a toy soldier and its rifle are considered a single toy.

To one visit of no less than half an hour from a parent, or a parent's representative, not counting time spent being dropped off or picked up.

To be read one bedtime story per evening of not less than three pages, on condition that the bearer remains in bed after the story is completed and until the following morning, barring urgent lavatorial needs.

To be spoken to gently and not yelled at for the duration of the bearer's stay.

Her Majesty reserves the right to refuse anyone who in her judgement has not been sufficiently bad.

Signed this day by Her Righteous Majesty Queen Elsa.

“There.” She looked up. “Now, fetch me that candle. The red one.”

“Mama says I'm not supposed to play with candles.”

“And she's quite right. So don't play with it while you bring it over here.”

By the time he had carefully walked it to her, Elsa had conjured a royal seal out of ice. “Thank you.” She dribbled some wax on the document and pressed the seal into it.

“Wow,” said Kennet, eyes wide. “You made that with your magic. Do it again!”

Elsa sat up, looking down her nose at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“Do it again…please?”

Elsa sighed. “Kennet. Do your parents ever make you do things at parties, to show you off in front of guests?”

“Yeah, they make me recite a poem I learned. It goes - ”

“Never mind that. Do you like doing that?”

“No. It feels…I don't know. I don't like it.”

“Well, that's how I feel when people ask me to do magic for them. I like to do it when I want to, but not when people tell me to.” She leaned in and whispered, “And since I'm the queen, I can just say no, and they can't do anything about it.”

“Wow.” He was more impressed by that than by ice magic.

She folded the document and prepared to hand it to him. “Now, you understand that you have to share this with your brothers and sisters.”

Nod.

“And you only get one copy.”

Nod.

“If one of you gets in trouble, the rest of you have to be extra good 'til they get back, because you only have one, right?”

Nod.

“Okay.” She held it out to him. “The smart thing would be to practice being extra good, just in case that happens.”

“Yeah,” he said, nodded, and ran off to show his siblings what the queen gave him.

Anna had been watching Elsa as she and Kennet had been working on their project together. Elsa looks so happy. She is so good with that little boy. I wish I could be that good at getting kids to behave. I just know she'd make a wonderful mother. And she really deserves to have that. She sighed. With the way she feels about…me, and stuff…I wonder if she'll ever get the chance? I hope so.

As Elsa turned her chair sideways to the table and watched Kennet leave, a man approached carrying a thick bundle of paper in one hand. He stood before her and self-consciously ran his other hand through his thick dark hair, revealing a graphite smudge along the side. He bowed quickly and said, “Good evening, Your Majesty. I'm Halvar Andersen. If it's not too much trouble, I was wondering if I could have my pencil back, please.”

“Yes, of course.” She glanced at the papers he was holding. It was a stack of old bills and invoices, and he had been sketching on the backs of them. “Are those…me?”

He smiled modestly. “Yes. Yes, they are. I hope you don't mind.”

“No, not at all.” They were quick sketches of Elsa, surprisingly good and very expressive. She could tell by the expressions that a couple were of her conversation with Ernst, and one of her working with Kennet at the table. “You're quite talented, Halvar. Is there a chance I've seen your work before?”

“If you read the Arendellensbladet, I hope so.”

“You're…you're 'Hav', then? The editorial cartoonist?”

“When I'm not selling papa's crops, and now mama's fish, in the city.” He leaned against the edge of the table. “I, um, you don't mind if I carry on, do you?”

“Of course not,” said Elsa, even though she felt a little self-conscious.

Holding the stack of papers in one hand and sketching rapidly with the other, he said, “It's just that - well, I'm pretty sure you are the queen, and I've only seen her - that is, you - a couple of times, and that from a distance. So a chance like this, I'm not going to have again. And even if you're not the queen, you look enough like her that I'm not going to get a chance like this very often anyway, so…” He shrugged. “No offence, I hope.”

She ignored his last sentence. “Why do you draw me so much taller than the councillors?”

He shrugged, and his pencil resumed its skritch-skritch. “The way of it with caricatures is that you draw the head much larger than usual. It brings out the expression and it looks amusing, and it's what people are used to.” He flipped over to the next page and resumed. “Now, you're so beautiful - I'm just saying - it doesn't suit you to be out of proportion. So, I can make you the same height as them, but your head would be tiny by comparison. Or I can make your head the right size, and you tower over them, but it, you know, looks better.” He shrugged again.

“I always think it makes me look like a schoolteacher with a class of unruly children.”

“Oh, I like that! Just a minute.” His pencil flew across a fresh sheet of paper, and in just a little while he showed her the page. “Like this, you mean?”

Rough as it was, he had captured the look of her councillors having a heated argument and herself towering over them in front of a blackboard and a desk, giving them a look much like the one she gave Ernst. Her hand flew to her mouth as she laughed.

“I bet I can get some use out of that one for the Arendellensbladet,” he said.

“You have something particular in mind?”

“No, but you're bound to scold them for something sooner or later.”

“True enough,” said Elsa, and laughed again. She looked around to call Anna over and have Halvar show her his sketches, but she was gone.

Anna had ducked into the kitchen and was talking to Ingrid's mother. “Hi, Klara. How's it going?”

Klara took a quick look around at the troop of daughters and daughters-in-law she had under her command, preparing dinner. “Pretty smoothly, thanks. Did you want to give a hand? We need someone to shape the frikadeller.” She was about to hand Princess Anna a large bowl of raw ground meat when Anna stopped her.

“Actually, I wanted to see the setup for your fish-canning operation, and I was hoping I could borrow Ingrid.”

“Oh, I'm sure I could get someone to do that for you,” said Klara, and blotted her forehead against her upper arm.

“No, Ingrid would be fine, please.”

“As you wish.” Klara gave a tiny shrug. “Ingrid! Give Vivi the red cabbage and get over here.” Ingrid approached, wiping her hands on her apron. “Could you show Her…”

highness mouthed Ingrid.

“…Highness how we have the fish pickling set up. She'd like to see it.”

“Please,” added Anna.

“Of course. It's this way,” said Ingrid, and led her outside.

They crossed the little courtyard to the attached barn. “How are you doing, Ingrid?”

“Very well. Thank you for asking.”

Anna startled Ingrid by taking her elbow. “No, I mean how are you really doing?”

“I, um, I don't know what you're getting at. Please let me know if there's a problem. Excuse me.” Ingrid rolled the barn door open with both hands.

They stepped into the barn. The evening light cast warm shafts through the dusty air. Vinegar, fish, and spices cut through the underlying barn smell of hay and animals. The horse, goat, and four chickens had been moved to the far end of the building to make room for the worktables, shelves, boxes, jars, and labels.

“Ingrid, I'm not really interested in seeing your family's business.” Anna glanced around. “Okay, it is actually a little impressive. But that's not why I asked you out here.”

Ingrid clasped her hands behind her back, and even though they were the same height it seemed as if she was looking up at Anna.

Anna leaned her butt against the edge of a table. “Are things okay between you and Elsa?”

Ingrid blinked in surprise. “Yes. They're…much better than okay. They're excellent. I believe Elsa is happy, and I couldn't ask for more. Unless there's something I don't know about.”

“It's…” Anna stood up again, and paced back and forth, gesturing. “It's great that you're happy, and it's great that Elsa's happy, which is what I wanted all along. But I feel like, I don't really exactly know what's going on between you two. I mean, there's some stuff I do know, and I don't particularly want to know about in any detail, not that there's anything wrong with it, but, you know, right?” She looked to Ingrid, who nodded tentatively. “When I shoved the two of you together I don't know what I expected. I mean I didn't expect anything specific, I just wanted Elsa to have some fun with someone who would be okay with that, and who would like her back, and who we could trust, and that's you. And that's great.” Anna picked up a horseshoe and fiddled with it. “When I see Elsa with you, sometimes she treats you like a servant, and sometimes she treats you like a girlfriend, and then she'll flirt with me in front of you, which you normally wouldn't do in front of a servant or a girlfriend, and then sometimes she'll ignore you - not in a mean way - and you just smile through it all. And I wonder if she's treating you right, or if you're letting her treat you not-right, and I'm wondering if that's good for you, and I'm also wondering if it's good for Elsa. I just - I want to know if she's treating you right. If you're okay.”

“Princess Anna? I am okay. I can't say enough about how happy I am to be with Elsa in any way I can. And as far as I can tell she has no complaints. I wish I knew what to say to calm your concerns.”

Anna put down the horseshoe, took a deep breath, and shook out her arms. “Okay. Let me take another run at this. You and Elsa are together a lot. And not just queen-and-servant together. Like girlfriend-and-girlfriend together.” She paused. The phrase sounded odd, but she couldn't think how else to put it. “But I worry that if you are each other's…girlfriends…that maybe, as much as you're fine with it, she's not treating you the way you should be treated. Do you get me?”

Ingrid nodded slowly. “I think I understand. I think you're afraid she's not respecting me, not treating me like an equal.”

Anna bit her lip. “Yeah, I think that's it. That's what I'm getting at.”

“But we're not equals.”

“Well, I mean she's still queen, and your boss. But I don't know if it's okay for you, or for her, that she treats you like a, um…like a pet. Sometimes.”

Before Ingrid could answer, a grey cat trotted up to her. She knelt down, sitting on her heels. “Oh look. It's Cinders.” The cat climbed up her back and onto her shoulders. Ingrid stood up, Cinders steady on her perch. “Your Highness, may I present Cinders the cat. Cinders, this is Princess Anna of Arendelle.” As Anna reached up to pet the cat, Cinders pressing her forehead into Anna's palm, she saw Ingrid smile the way she hadn't since they had all been in the carriage together. “She's the barn cat, but she was really my cat when I lived here.”

Ingrid ducked her head forwards as Cinders crossed from one shoulder to the other, then reached up to pet her. “Hey, Cinders, remember me? You do. Are you getting lots of good fish scraps now?” Still looking at the cat and pressing her face into the soft grey fur, Ingrid continued. “You see, this is Cinders. She loves me. And I love her. And we're very happy together. And if I have to go off to the city and leave her here, and then come back, she still loves me. And she's really my property. I could sell her, or do what I want. But I don't. Because I care about her. And I would never dream to imagine that we were equals. I'm a human and she's my pet.” Ingrid knelt down and nudged Cinders with her head. The cat hopped down and trotted off. Ingrid stood again. “I would be happy being Elsa's pet. I wish I were Elsa's pet.”

Finally dinner was ready, and everyone sat down, Elsa and Anna at the head of the table, flanked by Thorsten and the empty seat where Klara would pause between courses. As Anna sat down and pulled her chair forward, she heard a young boy say loudly, “I told you she wasn't real!”

“Hush, Rickard!” said his mother.

“Excuse me,” said Elsa, her voice cutting through the murmur. “What do you mean she's not real?”

“I put a pea on her chair!” said Rickard, still not using his indoor voice. “A princess can feel a pea through a hundred mattresses, and she didn't even feel it on her chair!”

Before his mother could scold him Elsa held up a hand, then leaned forwards. “First, young man, The Princess And The Pea is just a story that H. C. Andersen made up. A very exaggerated and biased story, too.”

“Second,” chimed in Anna, “I am not that kind of princess. I climb mountains and ride horses and if they don't bother me, a pea certainly wouldn't.”

“You complained about the carriage ride up here,” said Elsa in a stage whisper.

“Be fair, it was over an hour.”

“Anna, would you stand, please?” She did, and Elsa examined the chair, and Anna's backside. “And third, in the story the pea was not cooked.” Elsa brushed the pea off the back of Anna's skirt - her hand taking only a fraction of a second longer than was strictly necessary - and held up the squashed green lump, to general laughter.

As the laughter faded, Ernst spoke up from a few seats away. “Yes, it's all been very fun. But isn't it time you told us all what your name really is?”

Thorsten began to bristle, but once again Elsa held up a hand for peace. “Frankly, if Anna and I came in by ourselves, I could understand some skepticism. But you've known Ingrid for a lot longer than I have, and I've already seen that she is utterly faithful and trustworthy. Doubt me if you like, but how can you doubt her? Your own sister?” She turned to Anna. “I know I could never doubt my sister.”

“I love Ingrid,” said Ernst, “really I do. But that doesn't mean I can't see…well, let's say it still sounds impossible. So why don't you give up the game, and tell us who you really are.”

“We've said already that we are Elsa. We do not wish to repeat ourselves.” The candles on the table flickered in a chill breeze.

Tanja put a controlling hand on his arm, but he went on. “You know what? I'll give you that one. I'm willing to grant that your first name is Elsa.”

“How generous of you,” said Elsa flatly.

“But why don't you tell us your full name?”

“My full name?” Elsa glanced at Anna and raised an eyebrow. Shall I?

Anna grinned back. Go for it!

“It's a bit of a mouthful,” said Elsa with the appearance of modesty.

“We don't mind,” said Ernst as he sat back.

With casual ease, Elsa said, “We are By Grace Of God Her Righteous Majesty Queen Elsa Victoria Frigga Elinor Margrethe Of Arendelle, Ruler Of Arendelle, Its Territories, Assigns, And Satellites, Protector Of The Faith, Defender Of The Realm, Commander Of Her Armed Forces On Land And Sea, Guardian Of The Living Valley, Grand Duchess Of Smestad-Vossestranden, Countess Of Hvalstrand, and Sovereign of the Islands of Barekstadlandet.” She smiled sweetly at Ernst, and in the general silence she said, “And you are?”

She sipped her water, frowned, and with a brief glow of magic dropped in an ice cube.