Hidden
The castle halls were quiet, night invading in and around its many rooms. Moonlight trickled in from curtains not quite closed and its luminescence ghosted over the russet carpets, highlighting the emptiness of the corridors. A lone cat turned the corner to the North wing and hesitated, sensing something ahead, its back curled for a brief moment, but then it relaxed.
A Northern wind blew over the fjord, and brought with it a mist that blanketed the town. It coiled around the buildings—fine tendrils of vapor darted about the land.
Anna stood, bathed in moonlight, at the end of the darkened hallway at an enormous clearstory window, and gazed at the empty square. Tomorrow that square would be filled with merchants and hawkers, townspeople, soldiers, and a vast assortment of people, all going about their own business, oblivious to the sorrow that lay hidden within the castle's silent walls. The princess sighed and a small moan escaped her lips. Perhaps she was finally losing her sanity. How many times had she stood at this very spot, hoping for something, anything to alleviate the loneliness within. Ten times, a hundred, maybe a thousand times… Yet, there was still only nothing. She sighed again, her longings unrequited—her breath quickened.
And hidden, only three rooms down the hall, another soul suffered unto submission to the darkness that Anna experienced. Elsa, ear pressed to her door, listened to the muted sounds in the hallway beyond, eyes wide with the familiarity of it. Anna—she was at the window, again.
Elsa listened to the sadness her sister bore and her heart froze like an icicle at her deepest core—like one sharp shard to cut her profoundly, scaring. She inhaled deeply, her breath left her nostrils in puffs of white. And then the tiny snowflakes flitted from the ceiling, and fell slowly like dandelion petals on a gentle wind. They fell, silent sentinels to the battle going on within.
The princess stiffened and crept away from the door, delirious in grief. It was on nights like this that her determination faltered and the notion of opening the door hung about her mind like an intoxicant. It beckoned to her—flirtatious—and weakened her resolve.
As if spurred on by some interior signal, Anna turned away from the window and stared at her sister's door. She wiped the moisture from her eyes and slowly walked to it, all the while hoping against all reason that perhaps tonight would be the night. Her knees scraped against the carpet, and her ear pressed against the pliant wood.
She listened.
And Elsa heard.
A soft whimpering noise floated to the surface of Elsa's mind and she crawled further away from the door, lest her heart should break. Her father had taught her many things over the years, the bitterest lesson being denial—conceal, don't feel. Yet it was at moments like this that she desired nothing more than to toss way such lessons and to…to… Life was a mystery to one who had been denied the simple act of human contact. And this moment afforded no such insights as what to do. She trembled and the snow fell harder.
Anna pressed her ear harder against the door, her instinct at that moment to simply reach up and giggle the handle, to see what truth lie beyond it. None of it, all that she knew and experienced, mattered at the moment as the last of her mental reserves finally gave way. She crashed into the door and wept. One hand on the handle, the other finally up to her mouth in a vain attempt to hide her anguish.
And Elsa could not withstand the pleas any longer, and rushed to her door. She grabbed the handle and—hesitated for only a moment. Warm air blew into her face as the door opened, a stark contrast to the chill that she was used to. The force knocked the air from her lungs and she collapsed hard on the threshold. But, as she gasped for breath, a warm body fell onto her, and on reflex, her arms reached out.
Her body wracked with sobs, Anna felt a momentary abjuration, as if not believing what her senses were clearly telling her. But her hesitation was short-lived, and new tears bore down her cheeks.
Elsa rolled them into a sitting position, and held Anna like a delicate flower, her own tears mixed with those of her sister. There would be likely many moments of self-recrimination later, as she just violated the only rule imposed upon her. But now, at this moment there was only Anna—sweet, fragile, yet feisty Anna—her beloved sister, who was once denied to her. She easily absorbed the sobs from the smaller girl and peppered sweet kisses all along her brow. She had missed this pleasing affection more than she realized and her heart began to beat out a wild staccato as new sensations flooded her senses.
If heartache could be deposed, etched away from the soul by the simplest of gestures, then this moment had within itself breached that barrier, and two souls found healing in the other.
Yet, the sensations Elsa experienced went well beyond what was comfortable, and she felt an overwhelming need to push her younger sibling away. Her arms, so used to the cold, now held unbelievable warmth. Her soul, once frozen by fear, soared to new heights. Her mind, so tormented by seclusion and anxiety, unfettered unto oblivion.
Anna felt the warmth of Elsa's embrace and gasped out her surprise, not quite believing that this was real. But when Elsa's lips stopped at the corner of her mouth she opened her eyes.
Their eyes locked, faces only inches apart, and the reality of the moment crashed down on both. Elsa lowered her forehead onto Anna's and brought her hands up to cup her face. She traced the outline of the girl's eyes, her fingers barely ghosting over soft skin. Anna closed her eyes at the contact, her breath came in shallow gasps as Elsa's fingers traced down the contours of her cheeks to her neck, leaving tiny speckles of frost in their wake.
The older girl shook with a force foreign to her. Her whole body hummed, driven by needs that were wholly new and not completely unwelcomed. But, a certain part of her screamed a necessary warning—that this was wrong—this hunger that was easily turning from innocent exploration to something else altogether.
Elsa, even though a recluse, was not an innocent. Her adolescent explorations had been clumsy and less than satisfying. And now her urges bore her down this dangerous and forbidden road.
Anna groaned and her head fell backwards, new sensations coursed throughout her body at the contact. And then she pulled her sister into a fierce embrace, she left no space between them, and her hands flew up to Elsa's shoulders, her fingers dug into the rough fabric of her shirt….
Elsa found herself flush against her sister's body and any and all reservations flew to the wayside as she lowered them both to the carpet below. For a brief moment all movement stopped, and the two just stared at one another, each lost in pent up want. And when Elsa pressed her hips down and thrust against Anna shards of ice exploded above her and embedded into the walls. And for a few moments a chill wind blew around like a maelstrom. Anna twisted her head around and her eyes darted about the room like a frightened child.
But when Elsa tried to get up Anna stopped her with a look of pure love. The older girl flinched when Anna reached up to cup her face; shame marking her striking features. Anna merely caressed her cheeks, her love a balm to soothe Elsa's aching soul. They stayed that way for an eternity, until the need inside Elsa awoke
The younger princess gasped when Elsa's hands lowered to her skirt. She slowly tugged at the garment until it bunched around Anna's waist. Elsa used her knees to spread Anna's legs apart and whimpered when the younger girl complied…
...And Anna continued her nightly routine at the large clearstory window, wondering often if Elsa would ever open the door again. But the weeks went by, and her constant knocks went unanswered, and her heart darkened a bit. Her thoughts would return every so often to that night—that one night when Elsa opened the door to her room and finally let her in. She wondered if her older sibling was all right after…their one moment of weakness.
Elsa, ear pressed against the door, listened to her sister's nightly vigils with a tremendous sadness in her heart, her fear two-fold and manifest. She would never hurt Anna again—not by her power, nor by her adolescent lust. In time, Anna would forget the magic anyway. The night was chilly and a bitter frost swirled about her room but Elsa didn't mind, the cold never bothered her anyway…