A/N: I've received a lot of feedback asking me to add Elsa's point of view in this story. However, my reluctance to this is that in doing so I might let you know certain things that could ruin or rush the plot. Things that not even Anna knows yet. For this reason I won't be jumping onto Elsa's (or anyone else's) POV for the moment. But perhaps after the story is complete, you could tell me which scenes you would like me to re-write from Elsa's perspective.

That said, I hope you enjoy this new installment.

For the growth of the flower of love: You must sow the seed

Episode Eight:

Marco, Polo. Marco! Polo!

It's hard to be inconspicuous in such a bright and open space. I managed just fine during the first hour or so by walking all the way to the other side of the museum, far away from Elsa and her artsy judgmental eyes. By now my brain is so dizzily confused that I'm holding onto the notion that I've time-traveled around a few centuries; none of them women friendly, and neither close to the present. I went from technical superiority and unnecessary nakedness of Greek Sculpture (I saw way too much of Laocoon and his children) to the one-dimensional but sparkly golden Roman Byzantine paintings (creepiest baby Jesus, I swear!), and then jumped a few hundred years into what lead to the cubist works of Picasso (at least now I know what my next essay's title will be: "From blue to pink to a cube: An artist's incomprehensible mental process").

I must admit that it was all very instructive. And a great confidence lifter too! The exhibit I am looking at now is giving me a very explicit, graphic description that pretty much vindicates the child artist that lived in me. Looking up I realize, and not with little smugness, that at five years old I had all this fauvism crap nailed down! My kindergarten teacher said the sky was blue? Oh no, fuck that, I painted it green! And the trees were what, brown with green leaves? Well mine were pink with blue leaves and pokerdots! Ha! Take that Sister Amy! And most importantly, take that Princess-who-doesn't-believe-I-could've-been-an-artist!

I do a little victory dance. Nothing complicated. (I'm a potential artist, not a dancer), just a simple dip of my hand, raise of my chin, 'ducking' of my lips, all in a very evident ghetto fashion; don't be racists now, white people (even red-heads!) can be ghetto too. It's my 'suck it!' face, just like that "Two broke Girls"…girl. You know who I'm talking about.

My pat in the back lasts all of two seconds, because in the third second I notice the ends of silver-blond hair making their way to my side of the Museum. I quickly duck behind the stand of an odd looking golden sculpture of a running human rapper (or half horse), and only allow my right eye to sneak out and glance at the approaching menace. She's still a few rooms away and has yet to notice me, but even through her composure and her glances to the art pieces around her I can clearly see she is looking for me.

But why?! I wail internally. It's barely been two hours! I thought I made her mad enough to want to stay on the other hemisphere for the rest of the day!

Apparently, she can easily let it go.

Her steps get louder with every glance I throw about the room. And I think, a smirk appearing on my lips, that she's going to have to walk much faster, because I'll be damned if I let her trap me in her presence after barely two hours of reprise.

I hurriedly drop and slide (as much as I can in a dress) into the next hallway, just as Elsa is entering the Pollock exhibit. I excitedly bite my lip as I sneak a glance around the corner. She's looking bewildered, like she's wondering where the hell I went when she was so certain that I was right there. Oh well, tough luck princess. I giggle, but instantly cover my mouth and glue myself to the wall as Elsa's neck snaps in my direction. Crap; stealthy was never going to be my middle name. There are heels coming my way, and my sense of fight or flight activates. The only problem is that they are both screaming at me at the same time! Well then! There is only one thing to do in such a sticky circumstance.

To troll.

A swift glance around tells me that I'm not just in another century, but in another culture. That however, is unimportant. What matters is that in this time-hole, there are tables. Tables wide enough to hold parchments of Chinese drawings and tall enough for me to dive behind. Which I do as efficiently as an Olympian athlete barely a second before Elsa appears in the room.

From my spot on the floor I hear no movement aside from the enthusiastic rush of blood in my ears. The thrill is almost deafening. After a few moments of eternal silence, and after looking left and right and even up to make sure I've not been found, I chance a glance around the lowest corner of the table. Elsa seems to have finished using her cyborg abilities to analyze the room, and the apparent conclusive emptiness of it has brought an annoyed frown to her features; I bite my tongue to keep from snickering.

She moves then, to her right. For each step she takes I slide a little more to my own right until we end up rounding the table and are once again on opposite sides. It is hilarious, because an interrogative sign is a perfect description of her face right now, but it is not as hilarious as what I am about to do.

As we circled the center piece of the room I noticed an ensemble of…well, things. Sculptures, human and animal, and also geometrical figures. In general, it looked like some kind of theatrics storage room. Now, I could find a way to get there without Elsa seeing me, but then, what's the fun in that?

I wait until Elsa is looking towards the other side, ready to take a step into a different room in my search, and then I bolt in a noisy blur of red and green towards the odd looking exhibition, having no doubt that the blond has seen me, or part of me, as what sounds like a puzzled intone of my name reaches my ears.

Of course, I am not going to stop to confirm her suspicions. What makes me stop though is the creepiness of the room I've just entered. Odd did not begin to cover it. Countless amorphous human figures are located at the entrance of the exhibit. Some with unnatural long necks, others lacking the back of their heads, all with ceramic-like skin and empty white eyes. It is disturbing beyond measure and I can't begin to imagine what degenerate could have created this!

Luckily, I have little time to traumatize myself for life. As I feel Elsa approaching, I dash through the eerie part of the installment, and make it to a less offending one full of animals drinking water, or animals jumping to their demise in one creative way or the other. Still strange, but less repulsive, and with much more possibilities for me to hide. Like for instance, behind a bunch of gazelles jumping against a crystal wall (someone had birdbrains with that one) is a very realistic sculpture of a girl sitting against the wall, with birds painted around her as if her shadow was being attack by them.

I have to admit, that is some deep shit.

Deep shit that I don't have time to admire when I remember that Elsa is less than ten feet behind me. I am obscured for now, by the numerous disturbing non-human humans, but that won't work for long. Quickly, and probably sacrilegiously, I push the sculpture of the woman out of the way, placing her on the other side of the crystal wall with the gazelles; it kind of looks like it belongs there. Then, I take its place, sitting in the middle of all those black birds and lowering my head to my hugged knees. (Look mom! I both made art, and I am art! Ain't you proud?)

Elsa is practically standing before me now. I gulp, and press my lips together to control my smile and keep any giggles from escaping. Stay in character Anna! You are a suffering soul. Suffering. Work it!

Yeah right, not at this moment. I wonder how long it will take Miss Culture-and-Finesse to realize what's wrong in this picture.

Everything is painfully still, from my tense muscles to the atmosphere itself. It feels like even a breath could disrupt the scene, and so I hold it in, the beating of my heart stronger against my ribcage in this pause.

Then there's a breeze. A slight movement before my form. A clicking of heels. A warmth that floats atop my head, and I know for a fact that Elsa has grown suspicious.

I make an inhuman effort to not move a muscle when a whisper brushes my locks, "This hyper-realistic piece is simply extraordinary", but there's doubt in her voice.

The warmth intensifies, and I feel how she's reaching a hand out for me. I bite my lip, wondering how realistic is to the touch this hyper-realistic art she speaks of, all the while preparing for impact.

"M-miss, you are not allowed to touch the art pieces."

She gasps. My heart skips. Thank God for inopportune employees.

The light makes me squint when I chance a peek out of my knees, but I quickly get accustomed to it. Elsa hasn't noticed, she's standing and spouting apologies to the awkward boy with the most boring job in the world. He's transfixed by her (like 99% of the population), and their mutual embarrassment gives me the perfect opportunity to get the hell out of there.

I sprint behind the numerous sculptures. But of course, who wouldn't notice that? The awkward boy is now ashen-faced and glued to the wall (he should have prepared for this job by watching Night at the Museum!). Meanwhile Elsa is actually screaming after me. In reality, they should both thank me. This is probably the most interesting day either of them have ever had while standing inside a Museum. It certainly is for me!

I quicken my pace when I realize that the Princess has forgotten her royal upbringing and is now rushing after me. I go left, then right, behind a collection of swords and down a flight of stairs and for the love of God why did I let my mother convince me to forgo my Converse?

Ah right, because I'm no longer allowed to make any decisions in my life…was I ever?

No matter, I am deciding right now to turn left, again, into the darkest room I've seen in this overly lit building as of yet. It's not completely pitch black. There are some small light bulbs hanging from the tall ceiling. They illuminate a path into a kind of metallic labyrinth, meagerly. Nonetheless, I am able to make out two parallel lines of enormous steel plates that lean against each other to form a swirl of pathways.

I grin. Good luck finding me in here Princess!

I run through the first few passages of the maze. They all look the same: dimly lit, tall and imposing. Up until the third turn nothing changes. Then on the fourth it becomes claustrophobic. I don't tend to panic in cramped spaces. Not usually. But then, I've never had ten foot sheets of metal towering over me like this.

I gulp. The exit should not be so far off. Then I'll be free from both Elsa and this mind wrecking place. I swear as soon as I'm out of here I'll leave the building. I don't care if I have to walk back home.

I keep walking down the corridor. The walls are less squeezed together, but they seem to be leaning more and more on each other like a very unstable arc. I grow uneasy.

"Anna!" I startle as the sound reverberates against the metal. "Anna!" She shouts again.

'Oh my God bitch stop screaming! You are going to make this shit collapse on me!' I shout internally. If I die, I am so going to haunt her for the rest of eternity!

But I can't die right now, there's so much anime that I haven't watched yet!

I don't reply to her constant yelling, and simply continue forward, afraid that if I make a sound the internal commotion will be enough to bury me where I lay.

Suddenly there's the exit. Wide open and waiting for me.

And so is Elsa.

Crap. Okay, only two options now: make a run for it forwards, or make a run for it backwards.

"Anna, what are you doing in there?" She hisses.

Backwards it is!

"Anna wait!" The urgency in her voice stops me. I look over my shoulder in silent question. "You have to get out of there...carefully."

She has a hand before her, mid-way from calling me over and asking me to stay. As if I was a dog! I frown and open my mouth to curse her ancestors, but I see her eyes are glassy with concern.

"What's wrong with you?" I demand.

Her slightly parted lips close as she gulps. Her gaze shifts to the metal wall to my left. "Look up. At the top of the plate. Don't you see it moving?"

I raise my sight to the high tips of the metallic sheet, and I too gulp. If you stare, you can see it, the subtle undulation of the walls. Fuck, I had been right! This shit is going to squash me!

I look towards Elsa with evident panic in my eyes and the rest of my body.

I don't wait for an answer though, thinking that taking a step is probably a good start towards my salvation.

I move to do just that, but before I can settle my foot on the floor Elsa whisper-shouts, "No stop! The walls are much thinner here than in the rest of the labyrinth. Your weight could create a vibration that might shift the balance!"

"What the hell am I supposed to do then?" I hiss.

"Just lower yourself to your knees, slowly, and crawl over to me." She says, crouching down as well.

I growl in my insides. For the love of- how do I get into these situations? If only I hadn't been running from her. No wait, if only I hadn't been here with her in the first place! In any case, I don't have time to dwell on that now. I have to get out of here before I go squash.

Reluctantly, I do as instructed, and crawl like a baby the seven or eight feet that were between Elsa and me. Once there, her soft hands, her ridiculously, baby-butt, soft hands, grab mine to help me stand up.

The softness is too much, and I snatch my hands and grumble a 'thanks' while focusing on removing the silky feeling from my skin by brushing the dirt of my knees

"You are welcome." She says, a light intone in her voice, as I continue to fix the skirt of my dress. "Now that I have…found you – " I smirk. Her desire to say 'caught you' is implied perfectly. "Perhaps we can move onto lunch."

"Lunch?" I look up. Did someone say food?

"Yes, lunch. I know for a fact you are very acquainted with the term." What's that supposed to mean? I glare. "We'll have it here, at the Museums restaurant. I'm just waiting for one of the attendants to come collect us." She comments, calmly leaning against one of the metal walls while looking around in search of an attendant.

Wait a second. Did I just say that she calmly leaned….on the metal walls? On the metal walls that the smallest disturbance could set off?

"Hey!" I shout, totally indignant.

She glances at me, her eyebrows raised but other than that she's an immaculate picture of innocence.

"You tricked me!"

"Whatever do you mean?" Oh, the bitch dares act guiltless! After she had me on my hands and knees!

"The walls! The metal walls! You said they would crumble if I so much as breathed on them!" I accuse, pointing to the maze, and then with more force to the irksome girl before me.

"I don't remember using any of those words". She shrugs.

"Elsa!" I shout, surprising her, and maybe even myself. How many times have I said her name to her face? Have I ever?

There's s tint to her cheeks that vanishes with a simple shake of her head, and now back to herself she admonishes, "If you had taken a minute to read any of the ample information in this Museum instead of running around like a child, you would have known that this piece – " she motions to the maze. – "is an installation as much as it is conceptual art. This artist in particular enjoys the use of optical illusions to connect with his spectators. In other words, you were never in any danger".

All that to tell me she embarrassed me with an eye trick. A fucking eye trick! Goddamn her!

I glare with all the strength of my humiliation. She says nothing, happy to just give me the worst kind of smirk: a smug, close-mouthed smirk.

And oh, how I want to wring that neck of hers like Homer does to Bart. My fingers twitch, and I open my mouth to tell her just how much of a fucking bitch I think she is and how I will curse all of her future generations, but as always, she's saved something. In this case a someone, a waiter.

"Excuse me Miss, your table is ready." The waiter bows. I hold my tongue. "Please, if you would allow me to escort you."

"Thank you." Elsa says kindly. She turns and motions for me to walk ahead.

I should reject her and her probably delicious food. Just do as I said I would and go home even if I have to walk there. But then, I am quite hungry.

The belly wins out, obviously. I move to follow the waiter, but not before glaring at her one more, quite extended, time.

I hear a sigh that's sure to have come from her, but I won't be deterred.

She will pay for this!

Somehow…after I've eaten…or maybe while I'm eating.

To be continued…

A/N: I'm not sure if that came out exactly how I had envisioned it, but it was still so much fun to write! If you enjoyed it, or have any constructive criticism, please do leave a review! ^-^