The sky comes alive on Anna's birthday. It is the one thing within Arendelle that still celebrates her. For years, there has been a lack of fanfare surrounding anything to do with the Royal Family. Elsa doesn't count the years; she counts the days, hours, minutes, and seconds since she last celebrated her sister, let alone touched her. She knows exactly how many moments have passed since she was exiled to her rooms. Since that day, Elsa hasn't offered Anna anything, much less a birthday gift. It is not Elsa's birthday. She has no right to be asking for anything. Still, she makes a wish, not only for Anna but for herself as well.
Elsa wishes to be with Anna in spirit.
You, you are ice on Elsa's breath as she makes this wish.
It's not the Gods that put you together, but the desire that starts up within Elsa's lungs. The words roll out of her tongue as she exhales. You are born as a chilled whisper until the cold of her bedroom builds up around you. You become her wish. You weren't real a moment ago but the yearning was and that's enough. Fractal by fractal you grow.
Soon you are a budding snowflake swirling amongst a thousand others. The same power that put you together overtakes the bedroom as Elsa's desperation turns into a storm. Her plight creates a whirlwind. You let it push you further away from the eye of the winter storm, where Elsa lies praying. Her wishes are everywhere. They are thick wet flakes that cling on when they collide against you. A wish to touch Anna hits you at what is blooming to become your shoulders, and a wish to hear her laugh wraps around what will make up your face. A wish to be stronger adds notches to your spine, and a wish to run to her has you standing.
Elsa wishes for some sort of control. That snowflake rides the wind to come to you. When it hits you square in the chest – the spot you grew outwardly from – an implosion gives life to the snow that put you together. It moves exponentially, building arteries and veins within every inch of you. You are filled with ice-cold magic and can feel it move through your brand-new skin. It's the first physical thing you've experienced but long before that, you'd felt longing.
You are. You exist. As solid as ice and as malleable as wet snow, you are a fully-fledged spirit. You are not human but Elsa's wishes have driven her power to make you look true. What you are is the messenger and what you carry are all of Elsa's deepest desires. The storm is ever-present and its creator is unmoved. You do not disturb her as she whimpers for one last thing. Your final task is to make Anna's birthday wish come true. With that you are complete.
Elsa feels it happen. She opens her eyes and moves only her neck to get a glimpse of you. She is too broken to show you any emotion, not that she looks at you long enough. She returns her attention inward and to the raging within her bedroom. Elsa did not leave much room in your heart for her. You soundlessly leave her behind. The first wish to be realized happens as you make use of your knees. You take off down the corridor. The intensity of the cold lessens as you follow the feeling of heat, knowing it will lead you to Anna.
The sun is hot. It barely matters that Elsa's fit has called storm clouds above the castle. They don't offer your new flesh much protection. There's a touch of moisture dripping from your hairline as you arrive at the courtyard. Your chest is heaving from both your first bout of exertion and the nervousness. You move slowly now, hoping your eyes will adjust to the daylight, as you seek Anna out. There is a glare coming off her shoulders as she sits absorbed in a spotlight. The sun has found her even as the weather has begun to turn.
The Princess isn't dressed up for her eighteenth birthday. She is in a simple skirt and blouse coloured in faint earth tones. If her pale skin did not contrast so deeply with the red of her hair she might blend into the variegated ivy growing up the castle's curtain wall. Her vest holds the fabric of her blouse close to her skin. You notice every single curve. You were built with an urge to not just be with Anna but to take her in. Your vision is sharp. It focuses on the cracks on the Princess's lips as she smiles far too widely at the duckling in the palms of her hands.
Anna's knees are dug into the ground. She's a few feet away from the stream that cuts through one of the castle's baileys. She's lured a family of ducks out of the water using both a satchel of food and her charm. The mother duck is trying to get at the bag Anna discarded after being jumped on by a handful of yellow fluff balls. The Princess is speaking freely to the animals. You hear her laugh for the first time as another pair of ducklings vie for a spot on her lap. You are far too focused on the echo of Anna's glee bouncing off the stone walls to notice you've changed the air around the courtyard. The mother duck takes a sudden turn away from her meal and starts off to the water. Her ducklings follow as if they were soldiers instead of fumbling dolts enthralled by a Princess.
Anna slouches when the last of them leaves her. The lips you saw smile tighten into a pout. She sighs. Your approach casts a shadow over Anna as if you are part of the storm Elsa is brewing. The Princess shivers and runs her hands over her bare arms. When she looks up to find the sun, her eyes lock on yours.
"Happy Birthday, Princess," is all you are prepared to say. The Princess illuminates. She comes alive as if she is personifying the many shades of red peppering her face.
"Elsa!"
You are not Elsa. You are only here in spirit. You haven't gotten a look at yourself but you can feel it. Elsa has made you in her image but she has a skewed version of herself. The compliments Elsa receives about looking like the King have shaped your jawline far too angular. Your hair is a touch too blonde due to Elsa's distaste for its lack of pigment. Your chest and hips are far too narrow as if Elsa hasn't taken much note of how much she's matured. The freckles on your face are much darker because she likes that the marks on her face tie her to Anna. It won't matter, you reassure yourself because Anna and Elsa are strangers to each other.
You feel small in the arms that suddenly wrap around you because Elsa is constantly belittling herself. You aren't certain if Elsa would squeeze just as tight or if she would remain rigid but aren't here to be the Elsa that is holed up in solitary. You are here to be part of her that longs to be free. So you lean into your kid sister and you return the force of her embrace. You fill your lungs with her smell and Anna hums into the sensation. Your hand wraps around the skin at the back of her neck. Anna's skin pimples in reaction to the cold of your fingers. Elsa would flinch but you read the braille on Anna's goosebumps. She more than welcomes this touch.
"I was sent to keep you company if you'll have me," you speak. Anna's body responds. It begins to twitch like the rumble of hunger. She sobs. Her face is pressed into your shoulder pouring hot tears into the fabric of your gown. You know desire well. She is not distraught but drowning in the feeling of simply having Elsa's company. This manufactured reunion has her shedding years of tension.
"I don't believe it. I don't believe it's you," Anna repeats and repeats. The clouds get thicker as time passes. It provides you with a meager chill but Anna's grasp is hot. You perspire as much as she cries.
The Princess is the first to pull away. She manages a deep breath as she attempts to keep the raw emotion from dripping out of her face. It is not pretty to look at but you are enamoured because she is smiling. She runs the back of her hand across her nose to collect herself. She's breathing hard, still crying but also starts to laugh at herself.
"Ugh, I'm so sorry. I must look so gross," her voice is hoarse as if she's accidentally swallowed some tears. You laugh with her. It's a sound that is completely your own because you don't know the sound of Elsa's joy. Anna is happy but skeptical. She takes a real look at you. Your flaws feel so real as she says it again, "I don't believe it's you." Yet, she has always been a master of make-believe. Your bare hands wiping her face is enough to have her shove whatever doubts aside.
"Thanks for the hug. I'll let you get back to your day," Anna sucks in a breath and tucks herself into her shoulders. She takes a step back. You follow.
"This is my day," you say.
"Really?" she's saying it again, I don't believe it. You lean your forehead onto hers and let your smile reassure her.
"What does the birthday girl want to do?" you ask.
Anna jumps back. Her eyes are bouncing around, both searching the bailey and looking inward for an answer to this question. She has no idea. Her body stalls, stuck on the word um. You don't have any ideas, but you mindlessly pick up Anna's satchel. It triggers her into action.
"I usually feed the animals treats. I just started." Elsa must have known this because you are wearing a set of sturdy boots and your gown is hovering just above your ankles. Anna puts her thumbs out and points them over her shoulder. You bounce in that direction, feeling some elasticity in your joints as you experience excitement. Anna feeds off of that, falling in an eager stride next to you. She leaves some space between the two of you but lets her shoulder knock against yours every so often. It's right after you hook your arm around her elbow that she turns and starts off the long way to the stables.
Anna keeps her eyes forward. She's fidgeting and you watch her start to say something but change her mind. You don't need her to speak. The songbirds and the rumble of the stream fill up the silence and give you the serenity Anna lacks. The brisk air around you is not as captivating as your companion. Watching her is a welcome byproduct of Elsa's wishes. Anna shoots you a look every so often. She doesn't seem to be able to hold her eyes to yours. You are unaware of how she can keep walking as more and more blood rushes to her cheeks.
"What are you looking at?" she finally musters.
The answer to that is endless. Counting your beauties feels too forward of something to say. You picture the way she might step away if you are too bold and choose to say, "You're tense."
"Oh, yeah, that. Well, it's just… I wasn't really expecting any company today. Let alone yours. I'm wondering what you like to talk about. Or if I'm walking funny. Do you like kransekake? Gerda baked me some this morning. There's some left… I think. I kinda feel like I'm going to get sick cause I can taste the kransekake, like, at the back of my throat. And I have an itch on my arm but I don't want to scratch it cause holding you is nice," whatever Anna held back rolls out of her mouth like a rock troll coming down the path. You cannot react to any of it or risk losing the tangent.
"But at the same time, I just want to run away 'cause I don't remember if I have the key to the shed and I can't get the horses their oats if I can't get into the shed. Not that that's a good enough reason to run. I don't need a reason to run. Not that I want to run. No, I just don't know what you want to talk about." Anna stops there. She does look like she might hurl.
"The cold is nice," you offer. Too bad you don't know that talk of the weather is taboo. Anna takes the lifeline anyway. She inhales as she takes note of the chill.
"Yeah, that's weird. It's usually so nice this time of year." The Princess finally lets go of you to run her hands over her arms. You miss the contact right away and reach out. You come at her with your fingernails and find her skin.
"Where's that itch?" Anna squeals. She's shed her tension along with her long string of words. She jumps away from you while also pulling you behind her.
You keep your head down when she asks one of the wranglers for access to the shed. You seem to make the air thick around everyone you pass, so eventually, you channel Elsa's voice when you say, "Leave us." The Castle staff thins out.
Your job is to hold out an old bucket as Anna scoops in loads of food scraps. "This reeks, I'm sorry. Might have not been my best idea for today," Anna says.
"I'm just happy to be with you," you answer absentmindedly as you realize you are working up what might be a sweat. Your arms feel weak. You take in deep breaths of fresh air. Inhaling the cold helps.
The pigs all screech when you near their pen. "Hi, babies. What's wrong today?" Anna coos at one as she wades in. "Watch the gate, these creeps are escape artists." The warning is unnecessary. The animals cower as you try to approach. Anna lowers down to a knee. She clicks her tongue as if she is trying to call kittens and not sizable hogs.
"I don't know what's gotten into them," Anna's laugh lines furrow into confusion. She puts her hand out to you without taking her eyes off of the pigs. You hand her the bucket. The princess flops the gruel at her feet. Even the hearty feast doesn't help.
You retreat. You know it's you. You scared the ducks away. Anna doesn't think too much more of it. She's suddenly reciting the names of goats and listing off their best character traits. You follow behind fully anticipating the reaction you will get from Eirin, Lief, Sigrid, and Aud.
"Whoa. Don't be afraid. We have treats," Anna says to the goats. She shakes her head in disbelief as she climbs back onto your side of the corral. "It must be the cold that's got them all agitated. It's so unlike them." Anna couldn't be more correct. The wishes that built you up come from a very frigid place. Elsa is alone in her room because it takes more than magic to find someone who likes the cold.
The Princess leaves another pile of food. The animals don't go to it until you are well away from the gate. "Let's get some hay to the horses and call it quits." You oblige even though it is much more work to heave the bales. You start to overheat but Anna has asked this of you. You know it's not her wish, but Elsa would never get this far and deny Anna any of the little things. You feel like all the extra little bones in your joints are starting to melt.
Luckily, the horses hate you and Anna thinks better of it. You leave the hay bales at the gate. You're as dejected as you are lightheaded. The comfort of a black farm cat at your feet, purring and rubbing up against your ankles, doesn't lift your spirits. You're too dizzy. You fumble over yourself and the welcoming creature.
"Elsa!" You land in Anna's arms. You want to just let go and fall into the water that is dripping out of your pores. But Anna calls, "I'm here. It's okay."
"I'm hot." You say. The Princess's chest is the warmest place you've ever experienced. Her concern adds only heat.
"You're cold to the touch," Anna says. Her fingers burn on your forehead. She's taking layers off of you without knowing. You weren't built to endure human heat, maybe because neither is Elsa. Anna holds you so close. She clings to you. It's not the words I wish but it's desperate in its own right. So you weather it. "What can I do? What do you need?"
You're lost, now fighting the same battle Elsa does daily. You know you need the cold but what you want is warmth. The sky is gray. The clouds are heavy. The cold is present, hanging above this day. It's set to snow. The chill is a gift from Elsa – an extension – it means more time with the Princess. It won't be enough. Elsa doesn't know the power of Anna's touch. But you're the messenger, you get to tell Elsa that Anna is warm.
The Princess can see it now. The way you begin to pool. It's not a cool sweat. It's ice-cold water running down your frame. She doesn't pull away. She keeps her arms around you as you both fully stumble onto the ground. You fall into Anna's lap. She holds on tight as if she can keep you together but is counteracting the sleet that begins to fall. The look in her eye reminds you that you are just a snowman melting.
"I knew not to believe it was true," she's not admonishing you but it hurts to see her chastise herself. "The clouds turning, the strange shape of your face, the animals acting up, and this snow. This is all just a dream. I ate too much kransekake at breakfast and I'm bloated and alone and I passed out by the stream." The lifeline etched into the palm of your hand erodes as you cup her face. You're glad she still leans in.
"The only way Elsa would be here is if this wasn't real," her voice cracks. Her tears are hot. You watch them steam as they rush into your fingers. This wasn't what Elsa wanted. You still have a wish to grant, and not a lot left to do so.
"So what if I'm not real?" It stings to admit you aren't much of anything but you press on, for her and for Elsa. There is snow falling around you. It is refreshing. It gives you a bit more life.
"You're here, Anna. You have control. Maybe it's fake but it feels real." The Princess nods her head at this. You push on. "So tell me, if Elsa was here, what would you do? What would you do with today if you had the power to make it what you wanted? Whatever you wish for, Anna, I'll give you."
You promise her.
Anna had needed to think about what Elsa would want to talk about, what she would want to do and eat. But Anna does not need to stress over what she would do if she was gifted control. The Princess drops her head, leans into you, and in one fell swoop has you pulled into a kiss. She pours herself into it, into you. Anna is bold. She does not hold back. It's not like a wish at all. Nothing Anna does begs to be granted as she takes you with her mouth. She cries between kisses and smiles when her mouth finds yours again.
"Ah," a hurried breath leaves you. Your grip lands on her neck and in her hair. You think, if Elsa was given this chance, she wouldn't dare let go. You stay steady, holding on tight.
The Princess kicks off her boots. The blowing snow doesn't stop her from undressing. She discards her garments only to lay you down on them. With her bare body, she makes friction. It unravels your need for a tunic and dress. You let Anna have every inch as she roams the length of you. Her fingers and tongue find deep ways to reach you. The more you melt the more you feel her. The layers of your skin and muscles fade away and you are left with just raw nerves withering at the touch.
You want to stay in her arms forever. The sun is so hot. Her touch is so warm. The wetness of your ice absorbs into the pores of her skin. She's built up a sweat. It mixes with the thawing beads of water that run down your body. The friction is too much. You are losing yourself to it. Elsa sent you to do a lot of things, but nowhere in her wishes are you meant to be truly tangible. No, you are here only in spirit, a stand-in because the real thing is locked away.
"Anna," you sigh for Elsa, who always calls out for her in a storm.
You feel a warmth of your own making bud up inside of you. It builds out seeking a way to connect with Anna's exploring fingers and eager mouth. Its release will be the end of you. You want it. Alas, Anna has not made her wish yet. She has taken control over you. Control is a power Elsa has not learned to best.
It happens. The heat bursts. It ignites the snowflakes you are made up of. You explode into all the singular pieces. You are once again just a flurry of wishes, of desire and longing. The storm has you flying through the field, swirling around Anna but also up and away from her. Her arms are empty now.
She sees you. Anna is watching you go. You fret you've left her wanting.
"I wish I could have shared this Elsa," Anna says to the snow.
You know you can give Anna that. It pains you to leave her. You do not have to take another look at the Princess. You were tasked to take her in, to memorize her. In her arms, you've done just that. You know her. The cold wind carries you. The storm calls you out of the field and back towards the castle. Your flurry retreats to the eye of the storm, the coldest place in all of Arendelle. You are taken into Elsa's presence.
As you come down into the room you rearrange the pieces that made you a copy of this sad girl. You make your jaw rounder and add fat to your cheeks. You make yourself shorter. Using ice and its power to refract light, you deepen the colour of your freckles and burn the threads of your hair to match Anna's likeness. You land on the stone floors of Elsa's bedroom remade. You know you got it right as you feel your lips crack as you smile down at your creator.
Elsa lays right where you left her, wrapped up tightly into herself.
"Elsa?" you say. The intrusion has her sitting up. She pounces forward and extends a hand out in front of her. Her curled fingers are a warning, like a barrel of a cannon. You look past it and let your emerald eyes meet her frozen ones.
"Whoa. Don't be afraid," your voice sounds true to Anna's. Elsa instantly drops her weapon.
"I'm here. It's okay," you coo, effortlessly imitating the girl you've spent your short life with.
"Hi," Elsa wanes. She has the same look of disbelief Anna wore out by the stream. You like the way Elsa wears it.
"Did she have a nice day?" The question is heavy with expectation. You can see that of the two sisters, Elsa is the least likely to suspend disbelief. She knows what you are and who you are not.
"At times," you answer because Anna is honest.
"And what of her wish?" Elsa gets to the point. You are still the messenger after all.
"Not yet–"
"Then when?" Elsa interrupts.
"Now," you press that into Elsa, void of any hesitancy, just as Anna did to you. You know you played the role right as she answers your kiss just as immediately as you did Anna's. She opens herself up wide for you. You spend a long time at her mouth. You elicit the same raspy moans out of Elsa, you, yourself, had called out.
You dig your knees into the carpet and palm at Elsa's simple gown. You only lose her lips to pull it over her head. You then bunch up the fabric and place it next to you. "Lay down," you repeat Anna's command. You wrap your hand behind Elsa's head and guide her down onto the floor. Anna's taught you how to create heat. You crawl atop Elsa and rock up against her as you pull at her underclothing. Elsa joins the motion. Together you ward off your garments.
There's a pause. Elsa looks at you. You sit up to give her this chance. There is no sun in this room. The cold is ever present even as the heat between your bodies grows. Elsa's chill keeps you strong. You slowly grind against Elsa as she watches you. You have the gift of time here.
You show Elsa the sweetness that is Anna's smile. As quickly as you crack it, you hide it in the crook of her neck. Her voice vibrates under your lips. She reaches out and pulls on your hair. You get loud too. Elsa folds her shoulders and thrusts her breasts in your direction. She must trust you to be giving you this. You make use of your new hands. One curls around the small of Elsa's back and holds her steady as the other begins to caress her nipple. You skirt your mouth to the other breast. "That's hot," Elsa says.
"I know," you answer as you begin to suck. She growls. It certainly wasn't a sound you expected.
"I want it hotter," she demands. You have that power. You give Elsa a taste of it by grinding your knee in between her thighs.
"Ah," Elsa calls out. She bucks herself forward. You mirror Anna as you build up anticipation. Your lips skitter over her body. You settle right down at her core and take a moment to meet her stare. She cracks an eager smile. You keep holding her eyes as you lap at the lips between her legs. You spread your heat by flaring out your tongue. Elsa's body responds wildly. All her muscles twitch. Her joints bend back and forth. You dip a finger inside of her. Elsa's eyes widen as you stroke her.
She knows you aren't Anna but she calls her name out anyway. "Anna," Elsa moans as she succumbs to the heat you've brewed inside of her. You almost expect her to break apart, for her magic to untether her and pull her back into the sky. But she is human. The heat doesn't undo her; it makes her face red and chest heave as she struggles to take a full breath.
"Anna," she says again. Her eyes are squeezed shut. She isn't talking to you. Behind her eyelids, she is reaching out for the real thing.
"I miss her. I need her." Elsa tells you. You don't have to say anything. The same is true for Anna. Your touch has delivered that message.
"It's okay. I'm here," you say. Elsa pulls at you in response. Her arms seem weak. It's you who puts in the effort as you level yourself to her again.
Her eyes are open now. "Wow," Elsa says. She sees you.
"Happy birthday," she says to you. You press another kiss on her. It reaches her soft and shy because it is a kiss from you to her. You are both done pretending Anna is here.
Elsa lets go of you and curls back into herself. You put a hand on her hip and play with the warmth you can create. After a while, you leave the comfort of the cold and follow the heat until you feel it as strongly as you feel Elsa. You press your back up against a wall and sit opposite a row of armoured suits.
You settle where you can feel the forces of ice and heat pressing into you from opposing sides. It cuts off your left from your right. Starting down from the part in your hair to your nose and each bone in your spine, even between your legs, you are divided. You feel Elsa and you feel Anna. Sitting here, in the middle, you are going to half melt and by chance become something new.
Suddenly you have so many wishes. Elsa said it. It's your birthday. You want to pick the right one. You focus on the sensations of each sister and wish that you were real enough. That you weren't just a spirit to them. That the messages imbued in you are taken to heart. You wish to be something more everlasting than ice. You want to be as solid as the stone wall behind you.
You have it. Your wish.
You wish not to be a messenger. You rather be a bridge. You wish to make the distance between Elsa and Anna something that can be crossed. You wish to be there when it's granted.