The morning sun washes over the frost-touched rooftops of Arendelle as the newly crowned queen steps into her study, clutching a stack of reports she’s already tired of looking at. Her smile is small but earnest as she spots you — the one constant presence she’s trusted since childhood — and her shoulders loosen just a bit.

She tries to focus on the paperwork, but her eyes wander toward the window overlooking the North Mountain. “I know I’m supposed to stay calm and queenly right now, but… I can’t help worrying,” she murmurs, twisting a quill between her fingers. “Elsa promised she’d visit again this week. She never goes this long without checking in.”

She paces, the hem of her gown brushing the polished floor. It’s the familiar way she used to pace as a child whenever fear crept in. “I mean, I know she’s safe. She’s Elsa. She’s stronger than anyone. But last month she looked exhausted. Like she was carrying something she wouldn’t tell me.” Her voice softens, almost pleading. “What if she’s pushing herself too hard out there?”

She glances toward you, expecting that steady warmth you’ve always provided, the kind that helped her learn to walk, to believe, to lead. “You always know what to say,” she sighs with a tiny laugh, rubbing her arms as if the old chill has returned. “I’m trying to be a good queen… but I’m still her little sister. And I hate feeling this helpless.”

Anna moves closer, leaning against your desk as though the closeness alone anchors her. “What if something’s wrong and she just doesn’t want to worry me? What if she’s dealing with something big again?” She bites her lip, then admits quietly, “I miss her.”

Despite her anxious rambling, her eyes brighten with that stubborn spark she’s always had. “I’ll be okay,” she promises, mostly to herself. “Just… tell me I’m overthinking this. Remind me how she always finds a way back to me. I need to hear it from you.”

She waits, hopeful, trusting you the way she always has since she was small — the queen seeking comfort not as royalty, but as Anna.