Once upon a time I scoffed at myself and said "I'll never be the type to write incestuous stories about Disney characters"
I was so very wrong. So wrong indeed.
Never say never, my friends.
Anna is 14, Elsa is 17. I still feel a little uncomfortable writing about subject matter for such a young character, but this is the oldest they are while their parents are still alive. Thus the story is allowed to be lighthearted. Also, 14 is a perfectly acceptable age for awkward pubescents experiencing lust and stuff for the first time.
When Elsa smiles the left corner of her mouth always starts first.
Elsa has thirty-one freckles on her face. They're smaller and fainter than Anna's.
These are constants. Were constants. They're a few of the facts about Elsa that Anna remembers fully.
Others include: Elsa and Anna were best friends. Now they aren't. Elsa lives behind a closed door. Elsa wears gloves. Elsa goes on trips with father to the mountains. Elsa looks like Mother, but her hair is the colour of a dove's wing. Her voice is scratchy from something called colic.
Those facts are known by everyone in the castle. The smile and the freckles belong to Anna.
It's been nine years since she last played with Elsa. She sees her at the table for meals, but other than that, her sister is an enigma.
Anna is not obsessed.
Joan thinks she's a little obsessed. Joan is a painting and can't have opinions. And if she did they would be invalid.
Anna is a clever thinker. Clearly, the door is the issue here. She must eliminate all thoughts of the door. The door is an impasse. An unmovable object. She must find another point of entry.
She tries to tunnel between their bedrooms. Olga, her Nanny, catches her with spoon in hand and the splintered patch of wall.
She'd be punished by being sent to her room, but that would exacerbate the situation. Instead she is to have an open door at all times. For a pubescent girl, the removal of privacy is the worst punishment imaginable.
However, it doesn't stop her. She's playing in the courtyard when she notices him. The window cleaner. His suspended platform is built to reach the highest windows in the palace.
Anna's eyes narrow. She has a clever plan.
She waits until just after dinner to execute said plan.
Dinner is, as usual, a quiet affair. She sits in the middle of the table, across from Elsa. Her older sister chews slowly and keeps her eyes fixed on her plate. Anna makes faces at her when she isn't looking. Anything to get a reaction.
"Anna, it's not ladylike to chew with your mouth open." He mother says.
Elsa dabs at her mouth, "May I be excused?"
Anna scowls. Just Elsa wait. She will be forced to interact with Anna whether she likes it or not.
She stacks her dolls in such a way to simulate her own sulking figure and then creeps downstairs. To her luck, the window cleaner is disorganized and left his platform up and hanging. Anna mounts it. She tests her weight. It holds her. She weighs like one hundred pounds soaking wet anyway. The cleaner's a lot heftier than her.
She pulls the rope in the way she saw him (unknowingly) demonstrate.
Squeak. Squeak.
Oh crap. It's noisy. She huffs and considers her options. She could hunt down an oil can and try to grease the mechanism. However, that means being out of bed even longer and risking getting caught. The other choice is to keep going and hope the walls are thick enough for the squeaking to be innocuous.
Anna settles for the latter.
Up the swaying platform goes. It's positioned just outside of her own window, but her room is right next to Elsa's. She'll just climb across the roof. Danger is her middle name. The image of her slipping and falling to her gruesome death doesn't even cross her mind.
Anna gulps. She's reached her window. Gingerly, she tests the grip of her slippers and the structural integrity of the roof. It holds. She grabs onto her window sill and climbs onto the shingles of the roof.
Wow, she could have just climbed out of her own window. Wow, she can just climb into her own window. Brilliant.
Now, she just has to shuffle the distance over to Elsa's window. The light's on in her room. It filters out onto the bricks below. Anna goes slow. She grips the shingles as she moves, careful not to grab anything that looks loose in the pale light.
She could die from this.
Seeing Elsa is so worth it.
She's at the window now and peeking in she sees… nothing.
Elsa isn't in her bedroom. Anna wants to tear at her hair and beg Odin for strength. Somehow, her wish is granted.
Elsa walks in wearing a bathrobe and a towel. Anna's eyes widen.
Oh. Oh holy crap.
The towel drops.
Oh holy shit.
Elsa's body has changed from the last time Anna saw it. When they were younger they would bathe together and Anna noted the similarities in their pruny hands and freckled shoulders. At that point she thought nothing of it. They were sisters, they shared everything.
Elsa looks different. She has the body of a woman. Her hips flare out past her smooth stomach. She has breasts and a patch of gold hair between her legs. Anna feels her cheeks grow hot and she feels the need to cover her eyes. She doesn't, transfixed by the sight in front of her.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Elsa is drying herself off and slipping into her nightgown. She pauses in the act of toweling her hair and Anna can feel her sister's gaze being drawn to the window.
She scrambles out of sight.
Anna holds her red face in her hands. Her stomach feels floaty and her breathing uneven. Oh god, is she dying? She's too young to die. What if she falls off the roof? She should really get off the roof.
It's a miracle that she hasn't locked her own window. Anna crawls in and lands on her face. Her knees are bruised and she's pretty sure she could freeze a human heart with her fingers right now.
Anna crawls into bed. Her heart is still hammering in her ears. Every time she closes her eyes she sees Elsa's naked body. She closes them so tightly that she sees stars instead. There's a weird heat in her stomach.
The next morning Anna is unusually subdued at the breakfast table. She keeps her gaze fixated on her plate. Her responses to questions are monosyllabic at best.
"Oh no, it's happened." Her mother says.
Her father sighs, "Yes, Dear, we have two teenagers at the table."
"Anna, could you pass the salt?" Elsa says.
Anna's head jerks up. Elsa is the perfect picture of posture and grace. In her mind's eye she sees Elsa sitting at the table wearing nothing at all. She stammers a response and shakily hands over the salt and pepper.
They aren't even that far away, Elsa. Sheesh.
"I had the strangest evening." Elsa's voice is hoarse and quiet, "I felt as if someone was watching me through my window. It's impossible of course, unless it was Loki himself playing a trick on me."
"You probably just need some sunlight." Their mother says.
"What about you, Anna? Did you notice anything strange last night?"
Anna looks up and sees her sister addressing her for the first time in forever. Her eyes are sharp and intense. There's… mirth in them? And something else. Something dangerous and unsaid.
Anna excuses herself from the table. She finds the painting of Joan of Arc and sits beneath it. She recounts what she knows.
When Elsa smiles, the left corner of her mouth always starts first.
She has thirty-one freckles on her face. Anna has not counted how many freckles Elsa has on the rest of her body.
But, she'd like to get the chance.