The first night with Ingrid—her aunt—in the castle. Back in the castle, Elsa should say. Her aunt. She'd instructed the porter to give Ingrid a room near her own. Anna had already claimed the room immediately left of hers, greeting her every morning until the day she'd left on her voyage. The right, though, was still empty.

Elsa thought that with the both of them in that wing of the castle, they might not even bother trying to heat it.

There'd been as exuberant celebration as Elsa could throw for Ingrid on absolutely no notice, but Ingrid had quickly retired, claiming fatigue. Elsa understood completely, although she still felt compelled to threaten Ingrid with a feast in the coming days. Either for herself or for Anna's safe return.

But then trying to sleep with her mother's sister just next door, time moved in skips and gulps, clinging to her hands instead of running through her fingers. She sat up finally, just before the dawn, and gathered her robes tightly around her. The thought had occurred to her that Ingrid might be awake as well. Holding her clothes shut, she slipped out of her door and over to Ingrid's.

Elsa's fist hovered up on the door, casting its shadow in the pristine white paint. If Ingrid was asleep, would she wake her? Could she just barge in? Elsa lowered her hand to the doorknob. When she tried it, it was unlocked. She would just peek inside to see if Ingrid was as excited as her. The door moved swiftly and certainly, and there was a crack for Elsa to put her eye to. She looked inside, not sure if she was hoping that Ingrid was sleeping peacefully or that she was awake for Elsa to talk to.

Then she saw Ingrid. On the bed, but not asleep. She was naked, her ice crystal dress dispelled into the atmosphere, replaced by pearls of sweat. Elsa didn't know that people like them could sweat, but she'd never been as possessed as Ingrid was. Hands locked between her legs like she was trying to hold something in, breath pitching her belly from concave to convex, heaving her breasts about like ships on a stormy sea, making her lips part and music of sighs and moans come out…

Pleasure. She wasn't sick or hurt or in pain. She was feeling absolute pleasure. And it reached its zenith, a white-hot flush going through Ingrid's body, the sweat on her body trailing off into icicles. Elsa felt a delicious chill, like a normal person going from the heat of a stuffy house to the relief of a cool breeze. It was as if Ingrid had conjured up one of the dreams that sometimes seemed to turn Elsa inside out with a want for something she couldn't voice.

Elsa closed the door and hoped desperately that Ingrid hadn't seen her.

The day before, she'd almost begged Ingrid to have breakfast with her. Ingrid had just acquiesced too quickly for her to get down on her knees. Now, clad in a freshly conjured dress, the Snow Queen joined Elsa in her chambers. The porters, somewhat fearful, brought them their food and left in a rush.

After a good night's sleep—and the other thing—Ingrid seemed more eager to enjoy Elsa's hospitality. Elsa could barely breathe, watching her neatly wield the utensils, cutting up her ham and losing it between twisting lips.

Ingrid was beautiful, but with Elsa's looks—no rosy cheeks or auburn hair, just pale sweet skin and white-gold hair. Elsa wondered if someone else would think she was beautiful; of course they would. She herself had been a freak and a monster, but she guessed she was beautiful too. She felt certain Ingrid was. Seeing her now-who could be horrified by Ingrid? Who could not want her love?

"I hope you didn't have anything important to tell me last night you felt had to wait," Ingrid said, now helping herself to a steaming dose of coffee.

"Last night?" Elsa asked, all of her control keeping her from stammering as her sister would.

"When you visited me. I was somewhat indisposed, as you could see."

Elsa jerked her eyes to the ground. "I hardly meant to disturb you…"

"Nonsense. It was nothing to be embarrassed by. It's just that after so long in that urn, I was quite tense. I needed to relieve myself."

Elsa halfheartedly reached for a spoon, like she could eat at a time like this, before returning her hand to her lap. "Relieve yourself?"

Ingrid reached out to place a pair of fingers on Elsa's chin—her touch wonderfully light, not burning into her like other people's—and she redirected Elsa's eyes to her. "You are aware of what I was doing, aren't you, niece?"

"I… yes, of course. You were relieving yourself!" Elsa stated confidently.

Ingrid laughed behind her hand. "As I relieve myself of my hunger?" she asked gently, taking a delicate bite of her muffin. "Or as I relieve myself of thirst?" She took another sip of her coffee.

"No, this was more… pleasant."

"It was very pleasant," Ingrid assured her. "Elsa, how much do you know about sex?"

Elsa flashed heatedly—something about that word, said in Ingrid's calm tones, in this domestic setting. "I'm a grown woman! I know about sex!"

"I'm sure you do. But from books and educators, or from your own experience?"

Elsa looked away, resisting the urge to pout. If this were Anna she were dealing with, a good pout would enlist Anna to try cheering her up. She could act frustrated with it for a bit before giving in, letting Anna tickle her, challenge her to snowball fight, drag her along hand in hand to find Olaf…

"I imagine your problem has made it hard to take a lover. Or rather, the problem others have with you." She reached across the table to take Elsa's hand. "With us."

Elsa fell into an arch voice. "I may not know much about sex," she stated, "but I know it requires two people."

Ingrid raised her eyebrow in teasing mockery of Elsa. So much like Anna… so much like her family. "At least two." Though Anna would never say something so shameless.

"You mean…" Elsa reconsidered voicing her thoughts, but Ingrid's thumb ran across the back of her hand, assuring her. This was her aunt. She was safe. "More than two people can…?"

Ingrid nodded. "Or less. Sex is a great deal more than what's contained in your books. Or at least the books that your parents have in their library. It's not just a man's member in a woman's chamber…"

Elsa flushed at the casual way Ingrid had spoken of it. Euphemism or not, her ears burned. Sensing her shock, Ingrid smiled ingratiatingly and patted Elsa's hand.

"I think of it as everything that leads to the bedroom, and everything that follows from that. It can be the touch of two hands—the conjoined slumber afterward—even the thought of someone who's not present. You can even touch yourself as a lover would… bring yourself exactly the pleasure you desire."

"That's not… wrong?" Elsa thought her voice came out as a squeak, and was almost more embarrassed by that than by the question.

Ingrid's laughter was deep and warm. "No. No, Elsa, no more than using your power is 'wrong'. The older you grow, the more you'll find that people are quick to make something a sin when they don't understand it. Even if it's beautiful."

"Sometimes I've… in the bath, as I've washed, I've felt this stirring inside me. I thought perhaps it was my power, trying to get out?"

Ingrid smiled again. She did that so often. So quick to reassure Elsa. "In a way, perhaps it was. I've seen the paintings of you. Don't you feel more powerful in that lovely gown than you do all bundled up like you're trying to protect yourself from the world?"

"I suppose. But I don't see…"

"Look at me, Elsa. I know my body is desirable. I know the attire I choose displays myself. It's quite enticing to look at, isn't it?"

"Yes," Elsa admitted, feeling another warm flush descending on her.

"There you are. I have power over the people's reaction to me. They may hate me, but they'll also fear me, and also desire me. I control how they think and feel, and in that way they're unable to hurt me." Another smile. It made the flush Elsa felt settle deep inside her, where she could stand it. "But there's plenty of time for you to learn all that on your own. Or with a little help from your Aunt Ingrid."

"Yes." Elsa looked away, quick to occupy her hands. Picking up a roll, buttering it. "I'm sure… you've given me much to consider!"

"Only…" Ingrid idly scratched her neck, lost in thought. "Anna is already to marry, isn't she?"

"Yes? What of it?"

"Well, you're her eldest blood. Normally, it'd fall to you to advise her on her wedding night."

"Wedding night?" Elsa repeated, thinking Ingrid surely could not mean what she seemed to.

"With Kristoff?" Ingrid reiterated. "The loss of her virginity… if he hasn't had it already, that is—"

"My sister would never!" Elsa insisted, standing up, she was so offended, the food freezing on her plate.

Ingrid reached out to run her hand down Elsa's arm where it was stamped down on the table. "Calm yourself, niece. I'm sure she wouldn't. But I'm also sure men are very sly. And who really knows what has already transpired?"

"I do." Elsa sat in a huff. "Anna will have a lovely wedding, and her wedding night will be—good."

"Of course, of course," Ingrid mollified. "Only… I'm sure it's just because I don't know him that well… the looks of that Kristoff man. So rough, so coarse… and Anna so young…"

"He will be very gentle," Elsa said, in a tone that was less prediction than 'if he knows what's best for him'.

"I hope so. From what you've told me of her, Anna can be very… eager to please. I imagine that, without knowing the particulars of what's expected of her—what's to be done—she may simply go along with what Kristoff asks of her. No matter how painful." Ingrid refilled her coffee cup. "But I'm sure I'm worrying over nothing. Kristoff isn't like that, is he? He's probably quite virginal himself."

"Yes…" Elsa said. "Probably."

Ingrid continued after a sip. "Even if he's not… even if he's experienced with whorehouses and brothels…" Elsa looked at her sharply. "Well, I'm quite certain he'd know better than to treat Anna in such a way. Like a whore. Simply because she wouldn't know any better."

Elsa could feel her fists growing tighter, tighter… "What if you talked to Anna? Told her how to… what to expect?"

Ingrid tittered. "Oh, I couldn't possibly! A strange woman she'd never met, suddenly wanting to talk to her about the birds and the bees? No, no, not me! It's not my place!" Again, she sipped her coffee, the steam that rose off it caressing her face. "It's yours."

"But I know—I know nothing of lovemaking or men or… I don't know anything!" Elsa insisted, her last word spewing bits of frost as the air chilled around her.

"Well, you do have time. Anna away on her journey… you could learn the answers to every question she could ask."

Elsa nodded to herself, her panic receding. Yes. She could be there for Anna, now, at the most important time, as she hadn't been for so many years. She could make up for all that wasted time. "Will you…?"

"Help you?" Ingrid set down her coffee cup. "It would be my honor, Elsa. After all, what are families for?"