Like a Moth to a Flame

The air inside the coat had shifted from life-saving warmth to a humid, intimate swelter. Princess Anna wasn't shivering anymore. In fact, she was sweating. A faint sheen of perspiration clung to her forehead, and her breathing had slowed into a heavy, rhythmic pattern that pushed her soft breasts against my chest with every inhale.

I could feel life returning to her in surges. Her blood was pumping hard, fueled by the proximity of my magic. Her inner thighs, previously clamped tight with rigor mortis-like tension, had relaxed, molding perfectly around my waist. She was still grinding, though I suspected she didn't realize it. It was a subconscious seek, a flower turning its face toward the sun.

"You're burning up, Princess," I murmured, my voice vibrating through her chest.

Anna stiffened, the fog of hypothermia finally clearing enough for her brain to catch up with her body. She opened her eyes, pulling back just an inch. She looked down. She saw her legs wrapped around me. She felt the hardness of my chest, the way my hands were splayed possessively on her lower back under her shirt, skin-to-skin. She realized she wasn't just sitting with a savior; she was practically mounting him.

Her face, already pink from the heat, turned a violent shade of crimson. "I... I..." she stammered, her hands hovering over my shoulders, unsure whether to push away or hold on tighter. "I'm... on you."

"You are," I agreed, not letting go. "Is the cold gone?"

"Yes," she squeaked. "It's... very warm. Too warm, maybe."

"Good. That means you'll survive."

I decided to show mercy, for now. The imprint was made. She associated my scent and my touch with survival. That bond was stronger than any engagement ring. I loosened my grip on her back. "We need to move, Anna. Your sister is waiting."

I threw the coat open. The arctic wind tried to rush in, but the residual heat radiating from my body kept it at bay for a moment. Anna scrambled off my lap, stumbling into the snow. She looked like a wreck, her red hair was a bird's nest of static and sweat, her clothes were rumpled, and her face was flushed with the look of a woman who had just been thoroughly ravaged.

Across the clearing, Kristoff stopped pacing. He looked at Anna. He saw the sweat on her neck. He saw the way she was panting. He looked at me, sitting casually against the rock, looking composed and powerful. His jaw tightened, his gloved hands gripping the handle of his axe until the leather creaked. "Is she...?" he started, his voice gruff.

"She's alive," I said, standing up. The snow hissed around my boots. "No thanks to the weather."

Anna smoothed her dress, avoiding Kristoff's gaze. She stepped closer to me, standing in my shadow to block the wind. "He saved me," she told Kristoff, though her eyes darted back to me. "He... he's like a furnace. It was incredible."

Kristoff flinched at the word incredible. "Right," he muttered. "Well. We're burning daylight. If we want to get to the North Mountain, we have to move now."

"Lead the way, Iceman," I said.

We began the trek. The path up the mountain was treacherous. The snow was waist-deep in places, and the wind was a constant, screaming ****. Kristoff took the lead, hacking at low-hanging branches and testing the snow for drifts. He was in his element, battling the mountain with brute strength and experience.

I didn't need to battle the mountain. I ignored it. I walked a few paces behind him, The Solar Zenith clipped to my belt but glowing with a steady, low-level hum. I projected a field of warmth, not the intense cocoon from before, but a comfortable radius of summer air.

Anna had a choice. She could walk up ahead with Kristoff, trudging through the cold. Or she could walk beside me. It wasn't even a contest. She stuck to my right side like glue. Every time she drifted too far and felt the bite of the wind, she scurried back into my orbit.

"So," she said, trying to fill the silence, glancing up at me. "A Keyblade Master? Does that mean you unlock things?"

"I unlock hearts," I said, looking ahead. "And I lock away darkness."

"And the sword? The... fire-sword?"

"It's an extension of my will. If I want to destroy, it burns. If I want to save..." I looked down at her. "It warms."

Anna swallowed, remembering the heat between her legs just minutes ago. "It's amazing," she whispered. "Elsa... she has magic too. But hers is... sharp. It hurts. Yours feels like..." She struggled for the word.

"Like desire?" I suggested.

"Like a blanket," she corrected quickly, blushing again. "A hot, heavy blanket."

We climbed for hours. As we gained altitude, the landscape changed. The trees thinned out, replaced by jagged spires of rock and ice. Kristoff stopped ahead of us, panting heavily, his breath pluming in the air. He pointed upward. "There," he grunted. "The North Mountain."

We crested the final ridge. And then we saw it. The Ice Palace.

It was magnificent. A towering spire of translucent blue ice, jutting out of the mountainside like a jagged diamond. It caught the weak light of the sun and refracted it into a thousand colors. It was beautiful, but it was also terrifyingly lonely. A fortress of solitude built by a woman who wanted the world to leave her alone.

Anna gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. "Elsa did that?"

"She built a cage," I said, staring at the structure. "A beautiful, icy cage."

"We have to go in," Anna said, stepping forward. "I have to talk to her."

"Wait," Kristoff warned, grabbing her arm. "Look at the staircase. It's pure ice. And there's a construct guarding the bridge. A big one."

He was right. At the base of the majestic ice staircase, a massive, hulking shape made of snow and icicles was slumbering. Not a Heartless, but a guardian created by Elsa's fear. Marshmallow.

"I can handle it," Kristoff said, puffing out his chest, trying to regain some alpha status. "I know snow."

I drew The Solar Zenith. The sudden flare of heat made the snow around us weep.

I looked at Anna. "Stay close to me, Princess. Things are about to get hot."