For disclaimers, please see part one.

Warnings:
Icest.

Notes:
Someone asked if I could write Elsa and Anna's first kiss in this universe. Technically, we covered that in scene one of c5, but there's nothing wrong with providing an alternate option, is there? And yup – this was the prompt for Elsanna Week on 122714, but I didn't finish it until today, so... Happy New Year? :D

(I now declare this bazaar open.)

Enjoy.

New Year's Kiss

It isn't hunger that wakes her up – at least not a hunger for food - which is understandable, given the massive spread that's always prepared for both staff and residence on New Year's Eve. In fact, she's honestly feeling a little sick to her stomach (probably from eating too much), and remains on her back in bed for several moments while she tries to figure out what it was that woke her. The clock at her bedside table tells her that she's been asleep for at least two hours, and she fuzzily puzzles over the cause for the interruption while she watches the shifting glow of the fire dance across the ceiling and walls.

She doesn't end up actually figuring anything out other than the fact that she needs to get up if she wants her stomach to settle any, so she does. It takes some effort due to the fact that even in that short amount of time she's managed to get herself thoroughly tangled up in the covers, but she manages, and gives herself a cursory once-over in the vanity mirror before trading bedroom for hallway and closing the door quietly behind her.

The castle at night is a world apart from the castle during the day. It's only dimly lit, for one, and full of the noises that are normally hidden away beneath the hustle and bustle of daily life, like the faint creak of the floorboards under her bare feet and the whoosh of the nighttime breeze outside the windows. They're sounds that she's grown used to over a number of years, so while others might find them unsettling, to her they feel far more like a pat on the back – even a hug – from an old friend that she hasn't seen in a long time. They do, however, also come with a strange feeling of almost-melancholy, and she turns that notion over in her head as she wanders aimlessly down one hallway after the next, but ends up deciding that it's probably because this is the first time in a long while that she's actually been alone. That hasn't really happened since the Thaw, so it's odd to return to solitude, even if it's just for a few stolen moments in the middle of the night where her sister really can't be expected to keep her company, since at least one of them should be allowed a full night's rest.

She knows that, and yet she doubts that it's been even half an hour by the time she finds herself at a familiar door. There's no strip of light below – unsurprising, considering the hour – but she still only spends a scant minute debating with herself before carefully pressing down on the handle and nudging the door open.

As she expected, the room is dark, but thanks to the lowly flickering fire it's easy enough to pick her way through the open space and over to the side of the large bed within, and once she's seated herself on the edge and allowed a few additional seconds for her eyes to fully adjust, it's equally easy to make out the welcome and remarkably innocent sight of her sleeping sister. For all that Elsa teases her about sleeping so soundly that someone would think she was dead twice over, she's a very deep sleeper herself – if also a significantly less... enthusiastic sleeper than Anna. At least, she doesn't relocate her covers to the floor, or drool, or has hair sticking out in all directions.

Even unconscious, Elsa is the picture of sophisticated grace that Anna once upon a time wished that she could be herself. Past tense, because that air does suit Elsa a lot better and Anna wouldn't change her for all the gold in the world. Certainly not when the sight of Elsa sleeping is quite possibly the most serene, most beautiful thing she's ever seen. She doesn't even want to wake her, solitude or not, but on the other hand, she isn't really alone when sitting next to Elsa, is she?

So she stays where she is and doesn't speak, even if she does use one careful hand to brush back the few locks of platinum that have fallen over Elsa's face as she slumbers. It's so soft under her touch that her hand lingers, and she trails gentle fingers through the silky strands – shaping gorges and ridges that reform into a smooth surface after a scarce second, and finds herself as easily enchanted by this as she is by everything else that involves her sister. It's not really fair that Elsa can do this to her without any conscious effort, but unless Anna is misreading something very badly, she seems to have a similar effect on Elsa.

Elsa, whose eyelids now flutter and then lift halfway to reveal sleep-blurred, perfect blue eyes that sharpen in warm recognition when they settle on Anna's face in the dim lighting.

"Can't sleep?" The familiar voice is a little low and uncommonly hoarse, but Elsa's lips are curving in a lazy smile that has the faintest hint of a pleased grin at its edges – a sight that proves to yet again do the most interesting things to Anna's heart rate.

"I've slept," she answers with a smile of her own, and doesn't bother to stop her idle stroking of the pale hair. "I just woke up again."

"That's usually what happens at one point or another," Elsa comments around an almost-yawn, and then uses one hand to lift the edge of the covers in easy invitation even as her eyes slip shut again. "Just get in," she grouses when Anna doesn't move for a few seconds. "Before all the warmth escapes."

The obviously fake exasperation in her voice makes Anna laugh, and she wiggles into place with a contented sigh; tucking her head under Elsa's chin and hardly even noticing the tiny thrills that shoot up and down her spine as their legs twine loosely and their arms slip around each other. They've been close ever since the Thaw and have only continued to steadily grow closer as time passes, and by now Anna is so used to the easy familiarity of physical affection that even the faint tingle of arousal that comes with it is little more than a pleasant variety of white noise – it's there, but it's not what matters.

What matters is Elsa's slow exhales against the top of her head, the steady movement of a smooth, silk-covered back under Anna's hands and the very comfortable warmth of two bodies beneath a single duvet. What matters is Elsa's lips brushing against Anna's forehead in the lightest of kisses and the way her fingers draw lazy, tiny circles along the dip of Anna's spine. What matters is the sheer peace she feels when she's in Elsa's arms; an almost dizzying sense of contentment that makes her not want to move even one inch from this spot – at least not until Elsa's hold on her tightens and she's tugged closer.

Closer, Anna considers as she hums and presses a faint kiss to Elsa's clavicle, is perfectly okay.

It's a strange mix of peace and adrenaline, she decides for anything but the first time as they rest there together. The deepening of their relationship has been happening slowly but surely – from strangers to friends to sisters, and now it feels very much like they're teetering on the edge of something deeper than even that. Something that has Anna turning her head just enough that she can pick up on the slow ba-dum of Elsa's heartbeat.

Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum, the sound goes.

True-love, true-love, true-love, Anna hears, and wonders for the Nth time if they just might be on the same figurative page when cool fingers draw lingering lines over the back of her neck and Elsa's lips caress her hairline.

"Did you make any resolutions?" she wonders – half out of simple curiosity and half from knowing what her own is.

"Just one," comes Elsa's low murmur into her hair, and while Anna isn't cold at all, something about that voice – some hidden implication that she wants to be true bad enough to almost be able to taste it – still manages to make her shiver pleasantly. "You?"

Anna's lips quirk. "Just one," she responds with maybe a hint of playfulness in her tone, because Elsa chuckles in reply.

It's a new year, Anna considers, and feels the silk under her touch move with calm, even breathing as she traces thoughtful, idle patterns just a single layer away from warm skin. That's a good time for beginnings, isn't it? Maybe even the best possible time, if the chance is there?

"You know, I was thinking." She revels in the pleasurable tingle of skin on skin when she rises higher onto the pillows to fully face Elsa, and smiles both at the amused lift of two dark-gold eyebrows and the currents of energy she can almost physically feel running between them. "There's one tradition for New Year's that we've completely missed."

"Oh?" Familiar fingers are trailing from her forehead down over her chin and along her jaw, and the faint, almost lazy, upwards tug at the corner of Elsa's mouth is plucking at strings deeper in Anna's heart – in Anna's soul – than anything ever has. "How terribly remiss of us. Which tradition are you thinking of?"

"Well..." There's soft, white-gold hair between her fingers and a smooth forehead touching her own, and she can taste Elsa's breath where it washes over her own mouth. She's falling almost endlessly into those blue eyes – into the tenderness she can see so clearly in them - and she's nervous and determined and exhilarated all at once.

Anna never does get to mention in words exactly which tradition she was thinking of. She does, however, learn that Elsa tastes sweeter than even chocolate.

xXxXx

End notes:
I'm not entirely happy with this one, to be honest. But a good bit of it was written in 2015 (local time), and with Diskofil as the background noise – look their MVs up on YouTube at your own risk, because Danes are very fond of goofy-ass disco-pop (or at least we were back in the 90s). It proves to be very distracting when it comes to writing, though. At least for me.

I won't be posting anything for the remaining prompts for Elsanna Week this time around, so I'm marking this fic as complete yet again – until next time.

(Why does that kind of sound like a threat?)