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Perhaps it’s the idleness of Northuldra’s idyllic lifestyle that catches Elsa offguard. Or her soul’s constant immersion in nature. Or the fact she’s plainly taken Honeymaren’s undivided affections for granted. But the Fifth Spirit fails to notice a lacking warmth behind Maren’s embrace. Though, the shallow kiss they share beneath the swaying poplar trees does prickle her attention. It used to be deep. Steeped with longing. Helping Elsa forget about the Palace and reminding her of all the reasons she’s chosen to live in the forests. “Is-is everything alright?” Elsa asks. Honeymaren doesn’t answer at first, tucking her arm within Elsa’s elbow as they sit by the pond. She looks upon their reflection in still waters painted red with the sunset. Tries to conjure some meaning behind the woman’s uncharacteristic silence. Before catching herself wondering just how much she knows about Maren beyond being a really good distraction. “I will miss this,” Maren finally shatters the silence. Her words like a cutting knife, grating against the fragile pane of ice that is Elsa’s spirit. “You - wait, what?” “I am to be married to another tribe,” Maren breaks away the closeness, hands still clasped in Elsa’s, “as Chief’s daughter, this is inevitable, you know that.” “No, I didn’t,” Elsa gapes at her, before her stuttering lips fail beyond making incomprehensible sounds. “You never saw this coming? Yelena never told you?” “No!” Elsa’s voice rises, “Wait - is this her decision? Or yours?” “It’s everybody’s, the whole tribe,” Maren answers, “this prolonged conflict has weakened the Northuldra, we need this marriage to preserve our old alliances. Strengthen our people.” “Why would you need to cling onto any of those traditions when you have the Spirits behind you? When I’m behind you-” Maren cuts the words from her lips with a brush of her fingers across a blonde fringe unsettled by her rant. She kisses her. Lips filled with the depths of love they’ve shared in the short year spent together. Instead of feeling affection, all Elsa feels is a pang of grief knowing it’s the last kiss they’ll ever share. “I wish,” Maren whispers in a cold, unmoving voice, “everyone could believe the same things we believe. See the same things we’ve seen. But alas-” “And you’re alright with this decision?” The woman allows the silence to speak on her behalf. Fearful of seeing yet another one of her words cut Elsa deeper. But the damage already shows on Elsa’s face. Grimacing further when she searches deep within her spirit for the cause of Maren’s supposed indifference towards this whole affair. “You pity me,” Elsa shakes her head. “Why would a mortal human pity a goddess?” Maren tilts.
Yet why does it feel like you do?
“Look - I’ve enjoyed every one of the moments we’ve had together, but you know deep down this can’t last,” Maren sighs, “you’re an incredibly, terribly lonely person. Elsa. I don’t know what’s happened in your past, or who you’ve lost. But…” Elsa sucks in a breath, laced with tears, as she waits for that knife of truth to twist deeper. “...I’m not the answer you’re looking for.”Yelena’s clumsy half-curtsy, half-bow tells her the answer before she asks. Sudden formality masking her intentions. Quite unlike the last time she pointed her staff at Elsa and point-blank told her to freeze the rivers over to stop their Lingonberry farms from flooding. “Was marrying Maren off your idea?” Yelena nods slowly. Pretending to get lost in one of her long-winded introspective bouts of contemplation. This time, it annoys Elsa to no end and the Fifth Spirit lets it show on her face. “It was, yes.” “Without consulting her?” Elsa rifles a hand through her blonde locks, “And the tribe, they have the backing of the spirits, do they not-”“They do, my child.” I am not a child. That burst of irritation leaps off her gritted teeth and Yelena relents. “Look, Elsa. We know. Things have gone on long enough. You’re forever welcome amongst our people. We remain eternally indebted to the protection of the spirits, but-” “But, what ?” Elsa seethes. “This thing you’ve got going on with Maren,” Yelena shakes her head, “she’s young. She doesn’t understand. Whatever it is you’re looking for in her, she’s not the answer. And neither can any of our people provide you with an answer.” “What makes you think-” The sudden touch of Yelena’s wrinkly palm to her chest stills Elsa’s spirit. “We didn’t spend three decades fighting ghosts in the forest not to learn about the human spirit,” Yelena looks up into Elsa’s eyes, “I can feel it in you. I can see it in your eyes. You’re running from it. And at the same time you’re searching for it as well. Like a snake eating its own tail. One day you’ll wake up and discover it’s consumed you whole. We can’t let you distract yourself from this purpose any further.” And those words are enough to still the disquiet raging about within Elsa’s spirit. She bites back her tears as she ponders the same tumultuous storm of single-minded pursuit that sent her parents to their graves. And how they never had someone like Yelena to tell them otherwise. Suddenly, her face burns hot with shame at having shot such curt words at the elderly woman. “Tell me then,” Elsa’s voice softens, “where do I go to find what I seek?” “The Glacier of memory,” Yelena whispers like the breeze, “Go where none of us can.” “I’ve gone there before, it nearly killed me. Looking for memories I never wanted to know.” Yelena steps closer and takes Elsa’s hand in hers. A consolatory gesture, perhaps. Though it hardly soothes the hurt that’s stung her today. “Go again and seek the truth of what you desire,” Yelena offers her blessing, a swipe of a thumb on Elsa’s forehead, “but more importantly, what you will do with it.”At Honeymaren’s wedding, Elsa tries to find some trace of hurt left within her soul. Some leftover poisonous barb she could hurl at the Northuldra for leaving her like this. But there’s none. And the longer Elsa stares at that glimmer in Maren’s painted eyes, the tilt of her lips as she gives them forever to a handsome, dark-skinned man from another tribe. The truth becomes painfully evident: it doesn’t bother her at all. Because she never loved her. And it’s only then Elsa realises she’s hurting because Maren’s left her in a decrepit pit of loneliness again.
You’re a right selfish bitch aren’t you?
The solitary pinprick of loneliness set amongst a sea of joyous guests feasting on Roast Boar and late bloom Schnapps proves too much for Elsa. She wanders off into the forest where the solitude could help ease that ocean of torment. Ominous like the Dark sea. Even the spirits elude her tumultuous presence, but she chances upon a maiden washing her dark hair in a rock pool. “You’re not at the banquet-” The girl looks at Elsa, brown eyes deep like almonds steeped in chocolate. She shakes her head. “Some kid hurled watermelon at me and threw up on my hair. I apologise for the mess, Spirit.” She’s not looking away. Elsa recognises that dazed look she’s seen too often. Entranced by the radiance of her beauty. It’s easy. Too easy. The raging loneliness inside her needs a balm to quench before it burns her into a charred heap. “Elsa,” Elsa puts on the gentlest of smiles, before stepping closer and helping braid her hair.“ Tashykk ,” the girl smiles. Her touch lingers in Elsa’s long after she’s done. Eyes fall shut, like an invitation. One Elsa takes without thinking. Amidst the taste of Tashykk’s lips, her touch, and that soft whimper that strums the chords of her heart like a harp. Elsa feels the rising tide of loneliness ebb away just a little. Revealing in the shifting sands of her soul, an unbridled hunger that she unleashes upon this girl right there in the forest clearing. Tashykk cries out beneath her touch one last time. And as she comes down from her heady bliss, burns her stare into Elsa’s. Glistening, parted lips bathe in the moonlight’s glow and the gentle trickle of the stream. Elsa looks over her shoulder, ashamed of what she’s taken from the maiden. The heat in her face cools as Tashykk rises to get dressed. “I work at the creamery, churning butter,” Tashykk gives one last glance at Elsa, before shouldering a bucket of water, “and I’m usually alone in the afternoons.” Elsa watches the girl leave between Pine trees. Already missing the scent of rain on her breath. It’s a full moon tonight. She materialises her dress and ponders the disc of white set amongst the stars. So far away and yet controlling the tides on Arendelle’s shores right beneath her feet. Often in her melancholic moments, Anna’s image swirls in her head and clenches at her very soul. Anna. So close to her spirit. Yet still so far away and unattainable and pulling at the tide of loneliness that threatens to flood her with saltwater tears. Perhaps this is her destiny. Forever enslaved to the cyclical tide of loneliness. Ebbing and flowing until the end of time. She waits until Tashykk’s footsteps melt into the rustling breeze. Covers her face. And weeps.The guilt eats away at her soul. And before long, her flesh. Yelena has taken to putting out bowls of stew in front of Elsa. Sitting cross-legged in her tent until the Spirit finishes the entire bowl, carrots and all. The hearty warmth only reminds her how undeserving of their hospitality she is. Or the gentle comfort of Maren’s embrace she can no longer touch. Or the taste of Tashykk’s lips she should not indulge. Or the timeless depths of Anna’s eyes she-Elsa slumps into a pillow of snow as she ponders where her sister fits into all this. She tries to push Anna away from her heart’s persistent pining. Nails pinching into the snow-weathered carpets. But, like the infinite pull of the Moon - Elsa finds it impossible to resist that tide of longing wearing her nerves thin. And it’s the worst of days for this to happen: Friday. Nokk senses her prejudiced emotions towards the forest and hotfoots it towards Arendelle through another route. Offering the Spirit a view of the sunset over the Fjords. But even the majestic sight fails to thaw the frost nibbling at her heart. An icy chill that grows when Anna sets eyes on her from the palace steps. Her royal gown lies in thick pleats over her body. It renders her gait slow. Too slow. Fortunately, the Queen starts chattering even before hurling herself into Elsa’s arms. “Why do weeks feel like years every time you go away?” Anna chirps. And Elsa’s ready to fall yet again for that hopeless clench in her chest. For those eyes. Brimming with love and sincerity despite her well-intentioned jabs.“And is there a famine in Northuldra I should know about? Some food aid due to the North I should send? Your face looks like it's wasting away,” Anna brushes a finger over her cheekbones. Colour rushes into them. It takes all her strength not to faint at the touch. She clings onto the ill-fated hope that Anna notices the blush. Feels the same way she does. “Come, come!” Anna grabs her hand, “I’ve got some chocolates from Belgium for you - and Kristoff’s already started playing Charades with Olaf-”
Nope.
Despite standing right next to her sister, that giant moon and sun and all the constellations this blessed Queen represents to her. Elsa feels the mighty rush of despair overwhelm her soul yet again. She tries to finds joy in the beaming grin Anna throws her way at every turn. That light in her voice when she sits on Kristoff’s lap. Oh you’ve been Queen before, haven’t you? Just fake it til’ you make it. And she’s good at faking it. Hugging a pillow to herself to calm that throbbing in her chest each time she catches the faintest strawberry scent of Anna’s hair. Or clenching her jaw with each kiss Anna gives Kristoff. She stifles a genuine giggle when Olaf makes a stupid rearrangement of his body to win a round of charades. “Uh, horse?”“No, it’s a fish!” “You’re close!”“No clues!” “Mermaid!” Anna squeals. “Finally!” Olaf chortles. Elsa cocks an eyebrow, “What on earth is a Mermaid?” “Mythical sea creature, half-woman, half-fish?” Anna suggests. “Which half is the fish?” Elsa asks. “Obviously the tail end, duh,” Kristoff guffaws, “legends say they take on the form of one’s deepest desires, singing to seafarers on lonely voyages-” “Before luring them overboard and eating them alive,” Olaf cuts in. “ Olaf !” Anna chides.“What?” Olaf spreads his twiggy arms, “I read books about them in the library after you taught me-” Elsa’s eyes widen at the thought. Long after they’ve departed the sitting room, eyes weary with sleep and wine. She sits upright in her own bedroom, trying not to feel its oppressive walls from her childhood close on her head. Or mishear each creak of the palace walls as Anna’s bed shifting beneath Kristoff’s weight. The ghosts of wind as her sister’s suppressed moans, voice laced with pleasure as Kristoff takes her- “Stop,” Elsa snarls at herself. You’re obsessed. That voice calls to her again. She ponders what’d happen if she stands on the balcony and croons another ballad into the night sky. Will the spirits awaken from her voice yet again? Or will the stars shift into a constellation of her deepest desire? Sapphire-teal eyes tempting her to her doom? Listless from her thoughts, Elsa wanders into the library, lantern in hand. Seeking the story of the Siren’s call. She flips through its pages, eyes widening at woodcut patterns of Mermaids luring seamen to their deaths. Her soul aches with torment. She slouches back into a couch and allows her eyes to flutter shut lest the images haunt her nightmares. And yet there’s still nothing to ease the voice in her head. The shrill tone that can only belong to Anna. The brush of her red hair fluttering past her cheeks. Eyes leading her to venture beyond the Dark Sea once more. Perhaps she’d find what she really wants there; another moon to ease the tide brimming in her heart. Perhaps it’d be the death of her yet again. Maybe that’d be preferable to whatever she’s enduring now. Right before Elsa dozes off, she realises the impossibility of even trying. Her soul curses the spirits for sending her to this cavernous chasm of an existence. Forever reaching for a moon destined to elude her.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
She doesn’t bid Yelena farewell. Honeymaren, well - perhaps she’d already forgotten her. Sitting astride Nokk on the Northuldrian shores, Elsa stares down the Dark sea with the same tenacity she bore on the day she first crossed it. Hearing the same voice drift across its foamy waves. Heart squeezing tight with fear. Not the fear of the unknown like before. The apprehension that this ride would leave her frozen and crippled in the basement. Throat iced tight. Unable to scream for help. Icicles crawling through her eyeballs until darkness leaches into her vision. Her last sight being the cave’s empty ceiling and the voidness in her heart.
“
Quiet
,” Elsa stills her spirit, before riding North. Watery hooves studding the waves with snowflakes as Nokk makes short work of the sea. Ahtohallan’s icy peaks resemble crystal claws of a monster hungry to devour her whole. The water spirit vaporises immediately upon making landfall. As though he’s refraining from seeing what happens next. His watery deluge seeping back into the sea grates on Elsa’s spirit, but that voice sings louder. And she wanders into its frosty, hallowed halls once again.
The vacant caverns lie untouched from her last visit. Her powers shift a pillar of ice blocking her way. Its craggy, thunderous rumble only amplifying Anna’s voice calling her inside. For the first time since that day, a chill enters her bones. She ponders turning back. But there’s a greater chill waiting for her back in the forest. The cold bed in her tent. The hollow pit of her soul. Her own empty hand, longing to grasp another’s.
Elsa persists, wandering further until the caverns blur into each other and the prospect of getting lost dawns upon her.
You should’ve left a trail of snowflakes.
Panic creeps. Glittering icicles light the stony interiors. A sudden cliff drop looms. When her legs brace for a leap, she realises a second too late there’s nothing in the dark chasm below.
“No-” all the air spews from her lungs as plummets into the unknown. Shoulders graze a rocky outcrop. Snow blooms beneath her hips when she slams into the pit. A million shimmering snowflakes light the chamber in iridescent shades of pink and blue. And at once the voice stops, right before it multiples into dozens more. All of them
Anna’s.
Her head spins from the fall. As her vision swims back into focus, Elsa makes out vertical, overlapping panes of ice slotted into the cavern floor. Each one of them bearing images. She watches her memories play out one after another.
Feeling
each one touch the recesses of her soul. Anna’s accident with the ice. The years of gnawing isolation. Heart lurching as she reveals herself yet again at the ball and that momentary lapse into liberty when she finally learns her powers. Behind each pane of ice, there’s always Anna’s handprints. Anna’s voice. Anna’s footsteps pursuing her. So close, yet so far.
Until she reaches a memory she doesn’t remember happening. Watching her sister curl up next to her on the night she sang into the unknown. She recognises that moment all-too-well. The heat of Anna’s body against hers. The smoothness of her nightgown, concealing what she’s wanted but couldn’t get. Perhaps it was her latent frustration that besought her to wander the castle halls in agony. Voice pitched so high the spirits manifested themselves from her resonant emotion. She looks closer. Waiting to see when she wakes and leaves Anna snoring in bed. But the moment doesn’t come. Instead, her image in the mirror reaches to the downy smoothness of Anna’s neck and brushes away a lock of hair over her ears.
Anna wakes.
Scarlet colours her cheeks.
Anna turns over and notices the same blush deepening across hers. “You want me, don’t you?”
“
Yes
.”
Their lips connect in a tender kiss.
Wait, wait, wait, hold up. This didn’t happen.
She’s unable to rein in the unmade decision playing before her. Eyes and jaw shooting wide open as Anna tears into her like the harshest winter storm. Bodies pressed so close, only thin silk separates them. Hungry, needy lips devouring each other like they haven't eaten in years. Nightgowns scattered on the carpets together with all trace of their forbidden restraints, long held in darkness. Only to be undone in a fleeting by the slightest of touches-
“-I should’ve done that so long ago,” Elsa vocalises, covering her face in shame and regret. Heat pools below her belly as she watches it play out between her fingers. The passionate lovemaking. The awkward silence in the morning. Hushed whispers of
we can’t do that again. It was a mistake. But you liked it didn’t you? I've wanted you for so long. We must keep it a secret. No one can know.
Before it all happens again. Again and again. Years pass with this secret held between them. Stolen glances during council meetings. Legs bumping beneath the table over breakfast. A brush of hands behind Kristoff’s back. Elsa forgets what it's like to feel lonely. Her reign gripped and held up by the fastidious devotion her sister’s secret love offers. The realisation dawns upon Elsa as she butts her head against the ice.
“I made a big fucking mistake,”
Elsa laments, pressing her hand on the pane. Magic swirls around her body. She traces the lines of her own face in the reflection. A happier face, beset with shallow wrinkles from ruling a Kingdom, yes. But at peace. With Anna’s affection behind her, she could conquer anything. Elsa presses her fingers deeper into the ice, just wanting a trace of this
woman
behind the reflection. Longing just to bring a piece of her back so she could face the lonely days ahead.
The ice vibrates.
She presses harder. Ignoring the way it shifts beneath her touch.
Without warning, it cracks. She leaps back, but it’s too late. The entire pane shatters into a thousand shards. A gasp drains her lungs when she sees a heap of fabric collapsed on the ground before her.
A woman.
In a familiar blue dress.
Hers.
The woman’s eyes widen as she stands upright. Catching sight of her twin like it’s a reflection dressed in white. A scream blasts its fury from the pit of her lungs and shakes Ahtohallan’s foundations. Right before two pairs of eyes roll backwards in their skulls and they both slump into a pile of snow.
“No,” the groan escapes Elsa’s throat when she comes to. Her brain twists and turns in a maelstrom when she lays eyes on her. As though just
looking
at her twin violates some metaphysical law of reality that rends her insides. Worst still is the tragedy of her action. The way she pushed too far and dragged this Elsa from another world.
Anna would be looking for her.
Urgent footsteps stomping up and down the castle halls together with advisors looking for her to sign stacks of documents. Or perhaps she shattered that world when the ice cracked. The million possibilities play out in her head and hurtle her towards another foreboding darkness. She uses the last of her breath to plead for Nokk’s aid.
His watery bulk materialises into the rarefied air, and hauls both her stricken frame and their unconscious captive out into the Dark sea.
To where?
Northuldra’s ruled out for sure. So is Arendelle. She wouldn’t be able to explain this to
anyone.
Let alone explain what she was trying to achieve. Instead, Elsa directs Nokk to take them where no one could judge her actions.
The empty chill of the North Mountain castle makes itself known to Elsa when she arrives. But she barely has a moment to take in its furious spendour. Untouched from the last time she stepped foot in it. Instead, she lays the bruised version of herself on some plush snow rugs. And commands Marshmallow to start a fire in the stone hearth.
Didn’t you say the cold never bothered you?
Does it bother her?
Elsa stares at her Doppelgänger. Head slumped sideways, drool leaking from her pristine lips.
Lips which have tasted Anna’s.
Volumes of questions await her, but the longer she gazes upon that identical face, the more her head churns with nausea. She finds herself curling on a snowbed far away, falling asleep before Marshmallow can return with firewood.
“
I know this place.”
The voice rouses Elsa from her nap. A roaring fire’s warmth glows. She looks up to see the woman on her feet, eyes roving the solitude of the Ice Cathedral. Her heart drops when she looks directly at her. Fury written in glimmering points she’d never seen before. Elsa gulps when she stomps closer, before a repulsive force tears at her brain and stops her opposite in her tracks.
“You, me-” the woman’s voice stutters, “how is this possible? What happened?”
Elsa’s eyes wander down the blue fabric of her ice dress, one she used to wear while reigning in Arendelle.
Don’t forget your courtesies.
She rises, and curtsies, eyes dipping to the trail of her gown.
“Your Majesty, Queen Elsa of-”
“No, no,” the Queen waves off her greeting, “I know you. Y-you’re -
me
. Just different. I’m asking how I ended up here.”
Elsa sucks in a deep breath, pondering how to explain everything. But she does anyway. The spirits. Ahtohallan. The Northuldra. But stops shy of revealing that significant detail which drew her into the Glacier one more time. Through it all, the Queen listens closely, arms folded. Without interrupting or questioning even when the story proves hard to follow. Until she pauses for more than a breath.
“...you’re telling me that Glacier killed you once, while you were searching for memories of your…I mean - our parents?”
“Yes,” Elsa nods and bites her lip.
“...and you willingly went down there again-”
Elsa’s face warms and she waits for the inevitable-
“-why on earth would you do that?”
She bites her tongue, untangling the knot of emotions she never knew led her there.
“I was looking for a choice I abstained from long ago, that
you
made,” Elsa looks away, “all I wanted to know was how it played out. I didn’t expect it’d drag you here.”
The Queen nods slowly, pondering whether to extend another question back. Before Elsa answers it for her anyway, “
It’s a choice you made about Anna.
”
The revelation drains all the colour from her Majesty’s face, right before it rushes back. Redder than before.
“That night we shared our first kiss?” she asks.
“Yes,” Elsa confesses, “I-I never made that decision here. I just left her to sleep and wandered out into the unknown. It led me to this path. Which led me to being this
thing
I never wanted to be. Knowing a history I wish I never knew.”
“What
thing
are you talking about?”
Elsa sucks in another breath and explains her yet-unrealised role as the Fifth Spirit. The limitless power behind her grasp and how it set the Northuldra free from their conflict. A conflict their family created.
“Believe me, please,” Elsa extends her palms, “I’d gladly put all that away. If only to have what you have.”
“Anna’s love,” the Queen keeps her arms crossed.
“If I know you like I know myself,” Elsa stares straight at her, “you wouldn’t give that up for anything. Not the Crown. Not nature. Not-”
“Wait, what? The Crown?” the Queen jerks upright, “A-aren’t you still Queen here?”
“I gave the throne to Anna after I found out who I was meant to be. And I went to live amongst the Northuldrans, in the forest. To be closer to nature.”
The slightest shake of the Queen’s head sends a wave of shame into Elsa’s face.
“
Queen Anna of Arendelle,
” the Queen muses, “how’s that working out? Did she-”
“Anna’s a splendid Monarch. Way better than I ever was.”
“You mean me,” the Queen points a thumb at herself.
“Yes, you. Sorry I mean, no offense. Maybe you’re doing great-”
“None taken,” the Queen answers with a wave of her hand, “So this entire thing happened just because you deliberately chose
not
to kiss her that night.”
Elsa nods.
“Oh, heavens,” the Queen presses a hand to her head, “you know this as much as I do - I’ve been struggling with this feeling for
years.
Ever since I, or we, saw her at the Coronation. Every day after that. You
know
it’s not going away.
Why didn’t you?
She was feeling the exact same way the entire time!”
“I-I was afraid I’d ruin things between us. And there’s Kristoff and all-”
“She was
using
him,” the Queen shoots back, “and the only thing that would’ve ruined is yourself. I know you don’t take well to loneliness. Look at what Father did to you all these years. You
need
Anna’s love. Like flowers need the sun. She
needs
you too!”
“I-”
“What’re you waiting for? Go back to Arendelle and tell her!”
“I’m afraid-”
“Aren’t you more afraid of living your entire life not knowing her affection? Her love? Aren’t you more afraid of the hurt Anna has to put up with, keeping this desire buried within herself?”
Elsa opens her mouth to argue back, before realising with a shudder how close her twin’s standing before her. That blaze of fury in her eyes.
Woah, this Elsa is - different.
Confident. Like the shackles of restraint had been thrown off and she never looked back.
It’s crazy how one little reciprocated decision can change your entire personality.
Or perhaps it’s Anna’s affections.
You know the effect she has on you.
She’s close now. The gritted teeth and glimmering eyes bearing down on her like she’s committed a deadly sin. And it forces Elsa a step back.
“So are you going to do it?” the Queen snarls, “Or do I have to ride south to do it for you?”
“Ok, ok, I will,” Elsa extends her hands, “I’ll try to tell her what I feel-”
“No
try
. You’re going to tell her. And you’re going to kiss her.”
“Woah, I don’t know about kiss-”
“And after she kisses you back, you’re bringing me to this Ahtohallan place and sending me back to the world I came from,” the Queen demands.
“That’s
if
I even know how, or
if
I can put the ice back-”
“No
ifs
, no
buts
. You’re the Fifth Spirit with limitless power at your fingertips.”
“Alright, fine!” Elsa relents, raking her hair, “Two years of handling trade deals has clearly sharpened your negotiating tongue.”
The Queen laughs, uncrossing her arms and heading for the doorway, “I don’t think it’s me. It’s just the effect Anna has on us.”
Elsa chooses not to summon Nokk for the journey south, instead riding on one of the Queen’s ice steeds. Nerves frazzle when Her Majesty opts to travel down the mountain path instead of ploughing straight into the Fjords. It adds an hour to their ride. And the humid forest air sticks to her skin like flies.
So much for Fifth Spirit.
She lets out her blonde hair in a fan of gold yet again, picking at the matted strands while trying to keep her mount.
“Ugh, I’m not seeing Anna like this,” Elsa complains, pointing at the steam rising from a thermal pool, “I’m taking a bath first.”
“Isn’t there a bath in the palace? The servants can bring you Honey and Eucalyptus-”
“I’m not going to that dreadful dungeon, when there’s a bath literally right here under the sky,” Elsa’s already directing her horse towards the surface pool, wreathed in stone.
“You’re really taking this whole one-with-nature thing seriously, aren’t you?”
“And
you
certainly seem like you’re in a hurry.”
“I’m in a hurry to get
back
to where I’m from.”
Elsa dismounts next to the pool. Sucking in a deep breath laced with the earth’s fragrance. The horse vaporises and she wades into the steaming hot waters.
“You can either wait for the palace baths, or get in here with me.”
The Queen ponders, before muttering, “
Fine.
” And rides her horse straight into the superheated pool. Sloshing Elsa and dropping its temperature by a few degrees when the horse melts into the water. Along with her ice dress and all the snowflakes studded in her hair.
A sigh vents her throat. Elsa leans back against a pillow of snow as the last of her white dress dissolves. Watching the shroud of steam envelope her sight.
Not enough.
She can feel the Queen’s naked presence next to her, arms wading absentmindedly. Warm, concentric ripples lapping against her bosom. Her mind frays with curiosity. She peeks. Taking in the profile of her twin’s face. Radiant-clear through the steam. Steep cheekbones and blue eyes. The slightest twitch in her face sends Elsa’s gaze snapping forward. She can hear her unravelling her braid and washing her hair in the warm water.
“I don’t know how you put up with that stupid braid,” Elsa mumbles.
“It’s neater,” the Queen answers, “did living in a forest for a year rid you of your propriety?”
Elsa doesn’t answer. But she’s piqued yet again and turns to look, only to flinch at the Queen staring straight at her.
“And why do you keep looking at me when you think I don’t notice?” the Queen scowls, “You’ve been doing that all the way down from the mountain.”
Her face burns hotter than the waters she’s sitting in. Elsa turns away and mutters an apology.
The Queen’s voice turns coy, “I didn’t say you couldn’t look. I just asked
why
.”
Elsa looks back again, her throat knots when she notices her twin’s propped her elbows on the rock ledge. Rosebud peaks visible above the waterline. That curl on her lips widens into a grin when she notices her gaze dipping.
“I-I don’t know if this is my vanity speaking,” Elsa forces herself to make eye contact, “b-but I just can’t help it. You’re
beautiful
.”
For once, the Queen flicks away briefly as her face colours, “Well, I gotta say -
so are you
. And I know you don’t need a mirror to tell you that.”
“Maybe I just needed you to.”
The water sloshes and Elsa’s heart blooms when she senses her shifting closer. When she turns again, that flirtatious smirk gives her the courage to venture another question.
“Tell me,” Elsa asks, edging along the stone wall, “what does Anna taste like?”
The Queen throws her head back in a chuckle, before piping down, “Like the first sunrise of spring. That first bite of Christmas morning. Finding a puzzle piece you never knew you were searching for. Like hot-chocolate by a roaring fire. Like a destiny meant to be fulfilled. Like
eternity.
”
A hand closes upon her naked thigh. Elsa’s heart seizes. She feels like passing out, before the pleasure abates. Spreading through her legs in a glow of warmth.
“You’ll find out in a few hours, or I could give you a taste of your own, for starters,” the Queen continues, shifting closer and straddling Elsa’s lap.
Every muscle in her body tenses before she goes limp beneath the sudden weight of her twin’s closeness.
This Elsa’s certainly different.
Then again, is she really? What was that shit you pulled with Honeymaren the first time? With Tashykk? Hot-blooded desires masquerading behind a sheen of ice-cold indifference. A facade of restraint lowered at the first temptation. And this time, she gives in to her own flirtations. Sitting still in the rock pool with parted lips until the Queen takes matters between hers. At that first bloom of pleasure across her face, Elsa finds her hands falling to the woman’s hips, pulling her closer until there’s nothing between them.
Oh god, is this how I kiss?
For a moment, all the thoughts vanish from her mind. Even Anna. Until the kiss breaks and she sees her own eyes glimmering an inch away.
“W-what do I taste like, then?” Elsa coos in a stuttery whisper.
“Like an unmet desire sated,” the Queen answers, running a finger over her lips, “and you have
no idea
how good you are at kissing.”
“Well it’s not like either of us are ever going to find out,” Elsa answers, shifting closer for
more,
“unless you show me.”
The dare lights a flicker of lust in her half-lidded eyes. She dips in. The Queen showing Elsa what she means. A kiss like there’s no tomorrow. A kiss that tastes like forever. A kiss like there’s only the two of them suspended in a void. Brought together by a fluke of an accident that couldn’t have happened unless it was their
destiny
to meet.
Elsa soaks in the warmth of her touch, refraining from cooling the budding heat spreading through her hips or the playful dart of a tongue between her lips. Each time she sees her own blue eyes gazing back, Elsa ponders the strangeness of their kiss. And wonders if she’ll feel guilt for taking things further with this clone of herself. The Doppelgänger answers on her behalf. Venturing her hands up the front of her chest and drawing a hoarse gasp when she kneads a breast. Fingers skittering over a nipple. Pulsing with the heat of her desire.
“Don’t look so surprised,” the Queen teases, “I know you like having your breasts played with.”
“Do you?” Elsa teases back, before remembering that two can play at this game. She leans forward and closes her lips over a nipple. Fishing out a gasp so loud it startles a deer grazing by the trees.
“W-we’re going to have a
very
hard time explaining things if we get caught-”
“You’re not Queen in this world,” Elsa answers, before pointing at the shroud of icy mist she’s cast over them, “but I’ve taken precautions.”
Queen Elsa opens her mouth to answer, before it curls into a hoarse moan when Elsa sucks hard on a nipple. Swirling around it as the peak hardens beneath her tongue. A grin breaks on her face when the Queen loses herself to the sensation, throwing her head back and exposing the flushed warmth of her neck. So vulnerable. So tempting. Elsa leans forward and devours the revealed flesh like she’s
hungered
so much for herself. A sharp inhale fills her lungs with the fragrance of vanilla-scented soap.
“Tell me again,” Elsa whispers between each laboured sigh the Queen breathes into her hair, “what does Anna like?”
“Chocolate, animals, singing, but you know that already.”
“I meant, in bed.”
The Queen draws away, mischief written on her face, “Getting ready now, are you?”
The slightest distance between them only heightens the hunger in Elsa’s belly. And she closes the gap yet again. Pressing wet kisses all over her chest and leaving pinkish marks on the pale skin and ringing exhortations in her ears.
“W-whatever you’re doing now,” the Queen claws her nails through Elsa’s scalp, “she
loves
it.”
“Details, please,” Elsa pauses, just so she can feel the tugging impatience to continue.
“Imagine,” the Queen answers amidst her own stuttery breaths, “each freckle on Anna’s body a star in the night sky. And you’re sailing a ship between each one. Your lips are the sails. Your tongue the mast. The trail of your fingers the rigging. It drives her mad.”
“Oh my god-”
“I know you’ve looked at her,” she teases, “the freckles on her bare shoulders. How much you’ve fantasized about running your lips over each one.”
“Yes,” Elsa murmurs against her breasts.
“You’ve touched yourself to that thought before, haven’t you?”
Shame floods through Elsa’s chest, but it’s scarce competition to the heat brimming over her insides now. Threatening to explode between her hips.
“All the time.”
“Well, then. Touch her. Like you touch yourself.”
Elsa’s grasp slips from her butt to the rough patch of warmth awaiting her. Ears primed for that sudden gasp when she finds her core. Body jerking tight like she’s been struck by lightning. Arching harder into her touch as she draws firm circles around her clit.
“Like this?”
“Oh god, yes,” she groans, before reaching down towards Elsa, “wait, no - slower, like this.”
“I thought someone was in a hurry -
ah!
” Elsa bemoans, before her voice is cut off by the touch of her twin’s fingers. The burst of heat against the Queen’s fingers resembles a coiled serpent setting itself loose against its prey. Her face burns with the realisation of how
turned on
she is. The heat flickering hotter when she looks up at her own naked self sitting astride. Face contorted in bliss as they settle into a beautiful synchronicity. Pushing when she pulls and pulling when her twin gives it back.
That Elsa’s fingers graze an especially sensitive spot, in a motion she
particularly
likes. The words nearly leave her throat.
Oh, just like that.
Right before she realises her clone’s already said it for her. Echoes interspersed with her own name.
Elsa, Elsa. Just like that. Elsa. Like that. Elsa. Oh god, I’m close.
The nausea makes an ugly reappearance right as she brims over and comes exactly at the same time she makes her twin finish. Their bodies melt into one another in a shuddering climax. Hips flushed tight. The waves wrack through them and they ride it out. Holding each other right until it ebbs away. Before the Queen looks down at the woman who brought her here. Brushing a lock from her face and whispering.
How on earth did you find me?
Guilt gnaws at her chest when she gazes up at herself. That receding tide of pleasure in her loins amplifying the confusion.
This is wrong. All of it. Having sex with yourself? What the hell were you thinking? You’re weak. You give into temptation too easily. Fifth Spirit. Hmph.
But it all fades into a thumping noise when the Queen takes her face in her hands and kisses her yet again. Lips tasting like who she’s
meant
to be.
“That didn’t take us too long, did it?” the Queen emerges from the pool, allowing an icy wind to dry her skin while she rebraids, “we can make it to the castle before sundown.”
Elsa searches for some semblance of shame looking at her twin’s naked flesh, laid bare in all its glory. She clothes herself in lacey-white ice, eyes still fixed upon the Queen’s nude figure. Neck and breasts flushed cherry pink from the rush of their union.
It’s nothing.
She tells herself.
You’re just looking at yourself. Like a mirror. Exactly the same reflection.
The Queen catches her looking. But instead of averting away, or covering herself. She smirks. And Elsa relishes in the wanton confidence she possesses.
Alright, maybe she’s just a little different from you.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“We’re going to have a hard time slipping into the castle if we do this together,” the Queen whispers. They’ve approached by the dim glow of the shoreline. Away from the guards’ vantage. But still impossible to enter undetected. Even for a pair of Ethereal ice-beings.
“I’ve learnt a trick which may help,” Elsa hushes back, “even if I hardly use it anymore.”
“What-”
A breeze passes between them, laced with specks of frost. It picks up into a gale that appears to tear away at the flesh of the Spirit standing beside her. The Queen shields her eyes from the biting wind. But by the time she opens them again, there’s an empty space before her where Elsa once stood. Filled in by the gentlest voice speaking from thin air.
“Woah, how on earth-”
“I’m still here,” Elsa reminds, speaking behind her veil, “Just - invisible. You can pretend you’re me - which-”
“-shouldn’t be a problem at all.”
“Right. Just - remember, you aren’t Queen anymore,” Elsa beckons, “and I’ve left your room unchanged - wait for me there until I return from Anna’s study. She should still be working at this time-”
Without warning, the Queens steps forward and touches her hand to Elsa’s face. Guided by the shadow of a chill that marks her presence. Her touch wanders down the curve of her body, before she tangles their fingers together.
“You can do this,” the Queen lowers her voice, “remember - she wants this as much as you do. Every moment of every day since she saw you again.”
“Alright, I just-”
“No, no just - only
just do it
, and let me know when you’re done. I’ll be waiting.”
The Queen listens for a reply. Only to hear the squawk of seagulls and a warm glow where Elsa once stood. Her eyes float across the moat, watching to see if she can detect the faintest trail of snowflakes ascending over the walls. But only a breeze flutters through her dress. And her heart clenches with hope that this Elsa finds the joy that’s thrived in her life the entire time.
Despite her best intentions to remain hidden, Elsa gets caught by Gerda once she re-materialises within the palace corridors. Promptly ushered to Queen Anna’s study with much unneeded pomp and ceremony which needles at her brain. Apprehension simmers through Elsa like a lit candle flame. Searing her flesh from the moment she hears Anna’s voice in the study. Talking Kingdom business at the top of her voice.
“Your Majesty!” Gerda announces as she flings open the double doors, “Elsa of Northuldra has arrived!”
A squeal pierces from the leather-lined writing desk. Anna nearly trips over a chair. There’re gifts lining the mantle, clocks and ornamented jewellery and lush fabrics from a royal visit. But all Elsa cares about is
her,
buckling from the clench in her chest as she ponders losing
everything
tonight. Anna senses the stiffness in her posture the instant they embrace.
“Are you alright?” Anna asks, hands falling around Elsa’s waist, “You didn’t swing by last weekend, I missed you. And there were so many gifts waiting to be unwrapped I just went ahead first-”
“No, no, it’s alright. I had an appointment up North and I couldn’t-” Elsa waves away her question, “Anna - do you mind if we had a word? In private?”
“Sure!” Anna chirps, before the sudden turn away forces the first crack in Elsa’s heart tonight, “Just let me pack some stuff first.”
Anna dismisses her three advisors and shuts the doors. Stacking an endless pile of parchments and pouring herself a glass of wine.
Ok, good.
Elsa seats herself on a gilded couch with silk cushions. Wishing she could reveal her feelings in a setting
less
resembling a trade delegation’s visit. Her unease recedes at Anna’s gentle gaze drifting into hers. The close warmth as she curls on the sofa, heels already plonked on the floor. Only the wide plume of her royal gown stops her from shifting closer. And when the Queen’s hand falls haphazardly on her knee. Elsa’s ready to crumble and give in to her feelings.
“I-I had a dream the other night. I went back to Ahtohallan-”
A shudder courses through Anna, but it’s steadied by the grasp of her sister’s hand on hers.
“-and I saw in the Glacier, a memory of myself. A woman who didn’t experience the single, sole regret I bore my entire life. And right from that moment I saw her, I knew she was happy. She never had to live a life weighed down by the burden of not telling you-”
“Me?” Anna’s eyes widen, “Telling me what?”
Fear bolts through Elsa’s spine.
She’s been waiting - make the leap.
She looks down. Looks over her shoulder. Squeezes Anna’s hand and relents. But there’s nothing to save her, no interruption from Anna or anyone coming for them at the door. She sucks in a deep breath.
Here goes nothing.
“I-I’ve had feelings for you, romantic feelings,” Elsa whispers over the thumping in her heart, “ever since I saw you at my Coronation.”
She hears Anna inhale sharply. Before the silence between them stretches thin. A clock ticks in the distance. Elsa dares look up into her sister’s eyes and freezes at the cold, unfeeling blues staring back at her. Lips slightly ajar. Slowly, a spiderweb of cracks spreads across Elsa’s heart when that hand on her lap shifts. She audibly hears her heart shatter when Anna yanks it away. The void she leaves behind implodes like a dying star. Sucking all the life out of her.
“For me?”
“Yes.”
Elsa blinks once. A tear plops on her knee where Anna’s hand was. Another lands in the same spot when she realises that this is her life now. A puddle of tears where Anna’s presence once lived.
It takes forever before Anna breathes again. But it’s not a breath meant for her, only to rise and walk to the door. As if she couldn’t fall any further, the crushing pain in her chest explodes with thorns when Anna opens the door and looks at her.
Please, don’t. Please.
Elsa considers flinging herself to her knees before Anna. Begging her to forget what she said. Pleading to allow them to be sisters again. But the next words leaving Anna’s throat in a terse whisper dashes all her hopes into tiny, jagged lumps that shred her soul to pieces.
“
I’d like you to leave, please. Now.
”
Elsa rises, mustering what’s left of her self-worth into her posture. Which still leaves her slouched and defeated, but not enough to wrangle a few more words past her pitiful sobs.
“I-I take it you don’t feel the same way, then.”
Anna shoots a glare, before quickly looking away, “
We’re sisters. What were you even thinking?
”
Hurt boils over into murky bitterness. Before
rage.
Elsa shambles past Anna’s unmoving body like she’s a pillar. She expects to hear the door slam. But there’s nothing save a gentle click and a lock turning as she’s shut out of her sister’s life forever. There’s no time to lament. Elsa runs down the palace halls as if her entire being will shatter into pieces if she holds it in any longer. Her fears barely assuaged when she reaches her bedroom. Hurling open the doors with a ice-spiked gust. It takes all her strength not to blast that lone figure seated at the dressing table.
“How’d it go?”
“You!” Elsa points a shaking finger at the woman, “You
told
me she felt the same way!”
Queen Elsa’s eyebrows arch, before she turns up her hands, “What’d she say?”
The slightest recollection of Anna’s look. Her
words.
Spears through the veil of shock still hanging and crumbles Elsa to the carpet in a heap of tears.
“No!” the Queen cries, hurling herself to Elsa’s side, only for sharp nails to dig into her arms.
“Why, why would you
do this
to me?” Elsa shrieks, “S-she was everything I had and now I lost her-”
“What did she
say?
” the Queen asks again, half-dragging and half-getting-dragged by Elsa’s overflowing grief.
“She
threw
me out of the room!” Elsa screams, hot tears pouring down her throbbing-red cheeks, “Is that not enough?”
“She
what
? T-that’s impossible!” the Queen argues, hauling Elsa onto the bed, “Anna had feelings for you, Elsa - all the time.”
“And she said we were
sisters,
god, w-why-” Elsa slumps face-first onto the bed, consumed by hurt, “She’s everything to me, I’ve lost her. I don’t even think she wants to see me again-”
The Queen kneels, failing to soothe the ache ripping through her twin’s insides, “J-just stay here, ok? I’ll fix things for you-”
“No!” Elsa shrieks, bolting upright and tripping over the hem of the Queen’s gown. She falls flat on her face. Bruising her nose on that cracked bed of ice she’d inadvertently created. By the time she rights herself, the bedroom door’s already falling shut. Single, perfect snowflake fluttering through the gap. Elsa clambers for the door, weakened by grief and stumbling over the half-melted ice. Her tear-soaked hands leave ice prints on the brass handle. She realises in an instant the Queen’s taking matters into her own hands. Leaving the room would raise too many questions.
There’s two of us.
And she’s trapped in here.
Please, please don’t do anything stupid!
Her brain screams. Trying to reach her twin’s soul across the dark, twisting maze of Palace corridors. As though getting another bucket of hurt hurled at her face would teeter her over the edge. And there’d now be
two
crying, grief-stricken Elsas in this reality. Already one too many.
Shaking fingertips claw at the handle. It refuses to budge.
Did she lock me in?
Her brain fractures with pain. Or perhaps it’s frozen shut.
Wait, I’m better than this, I’m the Fifth Spirit.
Elsa sucks in a breath as she gathers her powers around her. Swirling in tendrils of darkened fog laced with poison from her soul. She turns to a mirror and watches frost eat away her flesh, before she vanishes between specks of fluttering snow. Incorporeal, Elsa passes through the door like a loose-hanging curtain. A servant flinches from her presence, but only rubs at his shoulders when she passes.
Elsa half-stumbles her way through the candle-lit interiors. Holding her breath when she draws near to Anna’s study. Footsteps sink into the plush carpets in pin-drop silence and she clearly hears her own heartbeat thump harder as she approaches the Oak doors. Icy fists clench. She stills her spirit, right before the faintest of gasps reaches her ears. As she ponders if that was a snivelling cry or a gasp of surprise. It comes again. This time sounding like-
-
a moan.
Eyes narrow in the dark. She grits her teeth and phases through the solid door.
Hands fly to her mouth hanging open at the sight.
Both Queens tangled in sheets of ice and velvet fabric. Writhing on the couch where she’d just had her heart broken. Lips locked in tender embrace. A feeble whine leaves Anna’s lips,
I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Oh god, Elsa, I’ve wanted you for so long.
Heat rushes into Elsa’s face. Queen Elsa leaves urgent open-mouthed kisses along Anna’s neck, just like how she’d shown her just hours ago. And Anna arches into her touch. Like she’s eaten her fill and still wants
more.
Bitch.
Jealousy smashes her in a roaring wave and drags the Fifth Spirit into its abyss. Her jaw clenches in seething, darkened anger. She
wants
so badly to tear her eyes from all her desires being fulfilled. But remains rooted to the carpets. Eyes ablaze at the sight of Anna ripping the icy fabric of Queen Elsa’s dress, fondling her breasts and lavishing them with soft kisses.
Just
the way she likes it.
Elsa’s heart plummets like a rock in free-fall. Tumbling from a cliff until it dashes itself on the shore. It’s impossible controlling the chill radiating from her form. In-between the wanton display of lust and passion. Right when Queen Elsa brazenly pushes a hand up her sister’s dress, searching for that molten-hot core nestled between her pale thighs. She detects a slight tilt in her twin’s head. All the air gasps from her lungs when the blonde woman stares directly at her invisible self; sending her shuddering back with that tiny smirk on her lips.
Right before it pinches around one of Anna’s nipples and drags out a shrill squeal. Eyes bolt-locked onto hers as she makes Anna curl and moan
.
Goading. Taunting.
This Elsa is merciless.
A hand pushed against Anna’s breasts as the other fucks her in brutal, wild abandon. Fingers pumping
hard
and leaving thumping noises interspersed with cries of pleasure; undoubtedly going to echo in her ears for years to come. The rough fucking continues without pause. Hurtling her towards another screaming fit as she inevitably comes from the ferocity of the Queen’s ministrations.
And Elsa can’t stand to watch another second of it. Nor even contemplate running away to sob jealous tears in her bedroom.
No.
A thread in her soul snaps.
No more Miss Nice Elsa. No more Fifth fucking Spirit. No more endless pining only to have your hopes dashed.
She doesn’t even bother with the door. Elsa walks straight out through the Palace walls. Summoning Nokk from the Fjords. Returning to her physical form as the water spirit streaks through the seas. Riding so fast that thunder cracks on her heels. Bypassing Northuldra with all its ill-fated distractions and escapism and pointless solace concealing her regret.
Ahtohallan beckons. And this time, she can’t hurl herself down its depths fast enough. Skipping all the memories of a life lived in safety, hidden glances at Anna. Flushed faces from every little touch shes throws her way.
No.
The basement’s exactly how she left it. Broken shards still lying in pieces on the rock. A shallow swirl of snow where her Doppelgänger laid yesterday. Elsa summons the entirety of her powers into her right fist and slams it so hard into the ground that her knuckles split with bruises. The shards piece themselves together, trembling in
fear
at the shimmering powers swirling around them. When Elsa blows the softest of ice breaths at them, a burst of glittering magic seals the pieces tight.
There it is - the Pane pieced back together. There’d be a pile of Kingdom paperwork waiting behind it, surely. Anna’s incessant questioning where she’d been all day. Maybe the French Trade Minister’s grumpy awaiting her audience. Ahtohallan’s memories sealed away forever. But they’re all a small price to pay for a love requited.
Her foggy gaze focuses on that tear-stained face in the mirror. She steps right through the ice with bated breath.
Only to find it stolen by Anna’s lips on the other side.