A/N: I really wanted to write an Elsanna spy fanfic, so here's my attempt at one :p. Oh and this is my first fanfic, hope you like it! It's definitely still a work in progress, I have a few ideas of where to take this story. Guess we'll all find out how it ends together :).

A deep sigh broke the deafening silence in the room as the blonde finished typing up another case report. She looked over to the stack of paperwork that always seemed to grow exponentially whenever she returned from a mission.

What a great way to be welcomed back. It's like they don't have other workers in this damn place.

She groaned in exasperation as she grabbed the first folder from the pile. Elsa hated this part of the job, reading endless documents about nothing that concerned her. Wasting time with this pile of speculations and boring news, she could think of a million places she'd rather be. Anywhere but this depressing place.

She looked around her office room. It seemed emptier than the last time she was there. The room was perfectly plain and unassuming; no furniture other than her desk and chair, no fake plants to make the place more homely, no trinkets of sentimental value, not a single picture of loved ones. If it weren't for her nameplate on the front door, anyone would think the space was completely vacant. But in reality, no one could have created a room that portrayed its owner so perfectly.

Her eyes lifted from the useless folder to gaze out of the frost-covered windows that lined the right wall of her tiny office in the CIA headquarters building. The rest of the world seemed so distant, she felt cut off from reality and civilization. Even though the streets would be packed with holiday shoppers this time of year, crowds of ignorant civilians were much better company than her "intelligence" coworkers.

A loud slam snapped Elsa out of her daze. The blonde took a few seconds to remember where she was. Eventually she noticed the small intern in front of her and the file that landed loudly on her desk.

"Shoots! I'm…uh…I'm so, so sorry, Ms. Frost…I, um, it must've slipped and I–"

"Don't worry about it, Olaf," Elsa replied, trying to sound reassuring, but not sure if she actually put in enough effort for it to be believable. Her perfectly expressionless face probably didn't help either. She actually didn't mind his company; he was probably the only person in the building who didn't annoy her in some way. His clumsiness and quirky personality were probably the highlight of her days when she was so unfortunate enough to be imprisoned in the gloomy headquarters building.

"Well, uh, I just, um, I came in here just to…to let you know that you have a new case! I, uh, I know how much you love being in the field and all…" Olaf explained, trying to sound cheerful to raise the obviously low spirits of his boss.

There was a hint of excitement as Elsa's icy blue eyes darted to the new file now lying on her desk.

"Um…Mrs. Jones told me that she, uh…she wanted you to read those dossiers that I uh…dropped on your…yeah… before the mission brief tomorrow morning."

Yes another case. Screw you, paperwork. Elsa let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Olaf." The boy must've interpreted the sigh as disappointment, since his cheery expression quickly faded and he immediately withdrew from the room before Elsa could stop him.

Elsa let out another sigh. It was almost ironic how difficult it was for the blonde to express herself. During missions it was always so easy for her to fake her emotions, to deceive her targets. She even fooled a polygraph test during a past mission without breaking a sweat. However, in her personal life, Elsa never cared enough to reveal any sort of real emotion to anyone, earning her oh so clever nickname, "The Ice Queen", that was used so often among her annoying peers.

Elsa scoffed at the thought of her nickname, but it was quickly forgotten as the blonde remembered what lay before her. She glanced back to the stack of paperwork.

Sorry, not today. I have better shit to do.

Elsa eagerly opened the file. As she laid her eyes upon the first page, the corners of her mouth unconsciously formed the slightest of smirks. Elsa found herself looking at a picture of a slender freckled redhead with teal blue eyes. She looked absolutely stunning in the intricately embroidered forest green dress she was wearing. But it wasn't her dress that melted the blonde's icy expression, it was the girl's actions. Somehow, she was photographed with her big wonderful teal eyes drowning in ecstasy as she secretly tried to stuff her already filled adorable little mouth with yet another piece of chocolate. She attempted to hide her actions behind a large pink handheld fan, but to no avail. How someone caught the girl in this act without her knowledge and why they didn't use a better picture for the redhead's dossier was far beyond Elsa's comprehension.

Elsa finally realized she was smiling and quickly regained her composure, scoffing at her actions. You damn idiot…just read the file, blondy.

She continued through the information in the file. The girl's name was Anna Walker. According to the report, she was the only child of one of the wealthiest men in all of Europe, Vincent Walker. Supposedly his company, Walker Enterprises, practically owned the entire railroad industry that ran throughout Western Europe. Several European countries were heavily reliant on the company's services for supplies and economic growth. The United States, for one reason or another, had a vested interest in the stability of its European allies, making the success of Walker Enterprises crucial.

Well, whoopty freakin doo.

Elsa skimmed through the rest of the girl's background and quickly turned the page to find a picture of a man named Hans Southerland. He also had red hair along with long sideburns that ran down to his jawline. Unlike Anna, His photo was much more professional - expert lighting, colored background, and probably even a little digital enhancement. He was wearing a white suit and positioned in a high school yearbook-like pose. His smile was clearly inviting, but Elsa knew it had to be fake, his green eyes exposed the man's otherwise expertly concealed annoyance. There was also a certain spark in those revealing eyes, but Elsa couldn't quite define it. There was just something off about that man…. I'll definitely need to look out for that one….

Like Anna, the man was a child of a wealthy businessman who owned the Southern Isles Corporation. However, as big as Walker Enterprises was, the Southern Isles Corporation was absolutely massive. Not only did it control the railroads throughout Eastern Europe and parts of Asia, it also controlled the majority of shipping services between the two continents. How Walker Enterprises survived in the shadow of such a titan was unknown.

Elsa bowed her head and sighed in frustration. More fun facts…. Someone should really cut down on the useless information in these files, they're wasting my time – she glanced at the clock hanging on the left wall – 4'oclock. Guess I'll just quickly finish up this read and get the hell out of this depressing place.

She skipped the rest of the information on Hans and turned to the final page. There were several news article clippings all reporting on the engagement of the two redheads earlier this month. But the publicity arose from the fact that their engagement occurred only a day after the two had publicly announced their relationship. The redheaded couple also supposedly announced their coming wedding in the spring. Some articles praised the couple and boasted of their "true love", even quoting some of the Anna's love-struck words from a recent interview. Others criticized the two, deeming the couple as the epitome of the rich's spoiled and sheltered ignorance. Elsa flipped back to the first page and examined the picture of the strawberry blonde. Anna…what the hell do you know about true love?

The blonde shook her head. So naïve. Elsa looked back at the clock – 4:05, great 55 minutes early...about time I get out of this hellhole. She locked the file in a cabinet beside her desk, grabbed her keys, and quickly made her way past the other offices and cubicles before any of her stupid coworkers could stop her. Miraculously, Elsa made it all the way to the glass doors of the main entrance without anyone noticing. As she made her way across the parking lot to her car, she wondered about the possibilities of this new assignment.

It's probably just a mission to gather more information from people…dammit those missions are so boring…. Maybe it's actually a corporate espionage mission, maybe an anti-espionage mission. Maybe I'll be preventing an assassination attempt. Maybe I'll actually be the assassin…. Eh, that would be fine. That Hans guy looks like he could use a nice cold bullet to the heart. Or maybe Anna will be the target…. Elsa felt her body shudder. The fuck? I know its winter, but the cold never bothered me. Stop shivering, dumbass.

Elsa would never admit that her mind just second-guessed her ability to kill the redhead girl.

Well whatever the mission is, I better not end up being a damn babysitter for that little love-struck, naïve "princess".

"So I'm a fucking babysitter." Elsa stated, making no attempt to hide her annoyance. Out of all the possibilities for such a crucial mission, she's tasked with protecting the damn girl.

"Elsa, that's not the only point of this mission, and you know it," Mrs. Jones calmly replied, "You are also to ensure the successful future of Walker Enterprises. This whole wedding development –"

"Whatever, it's still a fucking babysitting gig," Elsa retorted.

Mrs. Jones let out a small laugh at the backlash. If there was anyone in the agency who could handle Elsa's frigid personality, it was she. The tall brunette supervised enough missions with her top agent to anticipate and quickly melt the blonde's icy outbursts.

"Would you rather stay and finish up your paperwork, Agent Frost?" The brunette asked, meeting Elsa's irritated gaze. The blonde scoffed at the remark and looked away. Elsa knew Mrs. Jones planned that question way in advance. That woman was always prepared for her. The humiliation only added to the blonde's annoyance. Maybe her supervisor intentionally piled on the paperwork for this exact moment. It certainly was possible. That manipulative bitch….

"I'll take that as a no, then." Out of the corner of her eye, Elsa could make out a tiny smirk of amusement on her supervisor's face.

God she hated this place, but even more so Elsa hated being manipulated. One day…. The blonde sighed as she let go of her obvious frustration, picturing herself slamming the brunette's cocky face into the dirt.

Mrs. Jones watched as Elsa relaxed and her face returned to its usual expressionless state. "Good. I'm glad that's settled. You leave for France tonight. We'll have an agent pick you up and help you make contact with Anna."

Elsa snatched her plane ticket out of the smug woman's hand and stormed out of the briefing room, slamming the door upon her exit. At least she'll be an ocean away from that bitch by morning.