Elsa takes a cold bath and thinks long and hard

A/N: I hope you enjoy the first chapter from Elsa's POV. In terms of character development and set up, it's kind of...important :P

Happy reading!

Arendelle Castle – The Cold Baths

The water was frigid, perfectly still, but for the faint ripples drifting outward from Elsa’s submerged shoulders. She sat waist-deep in the bath’s dark, polished stone basin, its icy depths wrapping around her like a balm. The cold was comforting. Familiar. A stark contrast to the heat that still seemed to linger on her skin—a heat that wasn’t just physical.

Elsa tilted her head back, closing her eyes as the cool mist rising off the water touched her face. Her platinum-blonde hair, once pinned neatly in place, now cascaded damply down her back and floated lightly on the surface.

“What is wrong with me?”

The question slipped into her thoughts unbidden, laced with a bitterness she had no strength to chase away.

She inhaled deeply through her nose, then exhaled a shaky breath. The bathwater didn’t waver. It was solid and cold—reliable. Elsa clenched her hands beneath the surface, the motion stirring faint eddies that lapped gently at her wrists.

It had started the moment she opened her eyes that morning. An urge. Insistent. Irrational.

Go to the sauna.

Even now, she couldn’t understand why it had felt so compelling—so necessary—that she had acted on it before breakfast, before thought, before reason could talk her out of it.

She never used the sauna. It wasn’t because she couldn’t tolerate heat—she could—but because the cold had always been her solace, her element. Heat…heat made her feel exposed. Stripped down to raw nerves and **** in ways she couldn’t afford to be.

But today, that irrational pull had been stronger than her wariness.

She’d wrapped herself in a towel, left her chambers, and wandered down the empty halls as though something were guiding her. At the time, she had rationalized it—her coronation was three days away. The stress of it, the pressure to finally take her official place as queen, was enough to push anyone to do something unexpected. Maybe she’d hoped the steam would clear her head or melt away the tension she always carried in her shoulders. It had been a good excuse at the time.

But then, there was Anna.

Elsa groaned softly and lowered her face into her hands, the sound of her breath muffled by her palms. Her sister’s face swam into her mind unbidden: those wide, bright blue eyes staring at her in surprise, the faint blush of her cheeks as they sat together in the steam.

Elsa had told herself she could handle it. She’d thought she could act natural—pretend that it wasn’t strange that she was sitting in a sauna of all places, surrounded by oppressive warmth while Anna chattered in her usual, bright way.

And then…the towels.

Elsa’s face burned despite the cold water. She didn't want to think about it, but the image was already seared into her mind.

The moment the itching had started, it had been instantly unbearable—like tiny pinpricks of fire crawling along her skin. She hadn’t been able to stand it for more than a second. In her rapid desperation, she’d ripped the towel off and thrown it aside without thinking.

And Anna…

“Stop it,” she whispered to herself, teeth gritting softly. “Don’t think about it.”

Her fingers curled against the edge of the bath, nails pressing faint crescents into the stone.

The problem wasn’t the towels; unexpected itch aside. The problem wasn’t the sauna. The problem was her.

Her guilt.

She sighed, knowing that she had known guilt most of her life. It was an old companion—quiet, persistent, and patient.

The first time she had felt its bite had been that terrible day when they were children. The memory was sharp, even now: Anna, lying still and cold on the Great Hall's floor. Elsa had felt her heart stop that day, a piece of it breaking irreparably as their parents swept her away and the trolls erased what little remained.

The doors had closed after that.

She’d shut Anna out because it was the only way to keep her safe. She had chosen the distance. It had been a necessity. But the guilt that followed…

The guilt never left her.

Every time she passed Anna in the halls, every time she heard her sister’s voice muffled through the heavy wood of her door, it cut a little deeper. Anna didn’t understand—how could she?—and Elsa couldn’t tell her. Not when her fear was justified. Not when the price of another mistake could be Anna’s life.

But this guilt...this particular guilt was…different.

This guilt burned.

Elsa shivered, her arms wrapping loosely around herself as though trying to keep the water’s cold embrace closer as memories long buried started besigging her from all sides.

She hadn’t realized what desire was—not really—until her body started developing in her teenage years. She’d been alone by then. No friends. No suitors. No interactions with anyone outside the palace walls. And of the staff that remained, none were anywhere near her age.

So, her mind, out of necessity, had clung to what it knew. To the people she loved, the faces she trusted.

And for so long, there had only been Anna.

At first, it had been innocent—a fleeting thought, a warm memory of Anna’s smile that comforted her in the dark hours. But over time, as Elsa grew older, as her body began to ache with feelings she didn’t know how to tame, those thoughts had changed...and then she started touching herself fast, long, and hard before she could help it.

The whole experience had terrified her even as her lower lips gasped in more pleasure than they ever had. She had buried it deep. Shut it away like everything else. But now, seeing Anna like that—the sauna heat curling in the air, both of them stripped down and bare—those feelings had clawed their way back up to the surface like something long caged and ravenous for air in the light of the sun.

And for a moment there, as she glimpsed at her suddenly naked sister, a brand new sexual fantasy had demanded her attention in full ****. The moment was surely brief, but it felt like a sliver of eternity as she pictured herself snapping herself from all restraint and ravashing Anna right then and there in the steamy sauna, to her joyous moans of delight.

Elsa felt her mouth dry at the memory that refused to be buried, even as she shook her head in vain.

“I can’t do this.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. She pressed her hands to her temples, closing her eyes tightly against the tears that threatened to rise. “I...I just wish things were different,” She thought, feeling pangs of depression flowing through her veins.

She wished she hadn’t hurt Anna. She wished she could go back and tell her the truth about why she’d been shut out all these years. She wished she could be the sister Anna needed—someone strong, dependable, and open. Someone unburdened by fear, by shame, by the crushing weight of her own existence.

“I just…I miss you, Anna,” she murmured softly.

The words sounded fragile in the stillness. Her throat tightened painfully, and she drew in a shaky breath.

With a small, decisive motion, Elsa slipped lower into the bath, lowering her head beneath the water’s surface.

The cold rushed around her ears, muffling the world. Everything felt distant—calm. She rubbed her temple beneath the water, the gesture more self-soothing than anything else.

“How did it get so complicated?” She thought in sadness.

For a moment, she let herself linger there, in the cold and the quiet, before finally breaking the surface again with a slow gasp. Her eyes remained closed as water trickled down her face, neck, and exposed breasts. She held herself still, her breathing measured, holding back the sob that threatened to escape.

Because she didn’t have answers. Not yet. All she knew was that she missed Anna more than anything and in every way. Yet no amount of distance or cold could ease that ache.

She tilted her head again as her soaked blonde hair cascaded down her naked back, her eyes staring at the ceiling as tears mixed invisibly with the bathwater.

And so, Elsa remained in the cold bath, her arms loosely wrapped around herself as though she could protect herself from something unseen.

“Three days,” she whispered, the sound of her voice barely above a whimper with her heart twisting.

Three days until the coronation. Three days until she would have to step out of the shadows and face the world.

And face Anna.

“Please…let me hold it together,” she prayed, hoping that some deity, any deity, out there would answer her prayers one day.

But for now, only the cold held her as she wept. It was the only thing that ever had.

A/N: I hope you liked the chapter and found the developments in Elsa's instrospective recollections to be plausible, given the circumstances. We jump back to Anna's POV in the next chapter. Until then, thanks for reading, and if you enjoyed it, please remember to leave a comment. The support so far has been great, but as always, additional reviews tend to inspire me to write faster, so yeah.

Either way, have a great day, you all, and until next time.