Something was amiss, Elsa thought as she gripped the parchment of notes she’d just written on either hand and held it against the candle light, eyebrows furrowed while she scrutinized the text for any errors. Huffing in frustration when she couldn’t find any glaring mistakes through the cursory inspection, she slammed the document onto the desk once again.
Time was running short. She’d been working on this treaty for close to five hours straight, and it’d been a miracle how Elise hadn’t burst into her chambers that whole time. Even with Elise around to bother her, it’d certainly never taken Elsa five hours to work out the finer details of a treaty. Every time the church bells struck on the hour, she’d expected her dear little sister to prance into her room and knock the ink over all the papers—which would probably consume at least an estimated fifteen minutes of her time trying to throttle Elise, a half hour of her trying to calm down, and a final two hours more of rewriting everything. Hah. Honestly, it was a bit unnerving how quiet—
Elsa blinked.
There wasn’t anything wrong with the document at all, she realized, absently staring at the unmarred parchment and the smooth, clean, uninterrupted cursive words that formed a cohesive and coherent script. No, it was… perfect.
What wasn’t perfect, Elsa recognized with a growing horror blossoming in her chest, was how her twin wasn’t there to provide the witty, albeit distracting, banter and the critique on her writing that she’d grown so accustomed to. A stupid grin broke out on her face. No wonder it’d taken her so long to write. This whole time, she’d simply lacked the horribly aggravating, yet (unfortunately) motivating mental stimulation that Elise provided, the back and forth jabs that kept her mind sharp and her feet on her toes.
“I hate you and I love you,” she muttered to herself, signing off the treaty with a swift swoop of her pen.
