Anna - Velvet Dawn (534 photos) (Patreon)

The morning light in Arendelle had a way of creeping in gently, never barging, but slipping through curtains like a whisper. Anna stirred against her sheets, still cocooned in the warm embrace of her bed. Her hair—still woven into its tidy braid from the night before—rested over one bare shoulder, a ribbon of copper against her skin.

She sat up slowly, letting her pink pajama top fall slightly off her shoulder, revealing a hint of collarbone kissed by the cool air. She didn’t fix it. Instead, she closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in the mingled scents of wood polish, faint lavender, and the crisp chill of the morning beyond her window.

Her toes brushed the floorboards, cool against her skin, and she moved unhurriedly toward the window. Each step brought the faint sway of her pajama bottoms—light, silky, and just loose enough to whisper over her hips. She rested her hands on the sill, leaning forward so the morning sun traced its way across her curves. Outside, the snow-laced mountains shimmered, but Anna’s mind wasn’t on the scenery.

Something in the stillness had her pulse picking up. A weightless anticipation curled low in her stomach, though she couldn’t have said why. She let herself linger there, fingertips idly toying with the hem of her top, tugging it just enough to feel the soft fabric drag across her skin.

Behind her, the bed waited, blankets still tangled from the night. She wandered back, sinking to her knees on the mattress, the fabric of her bottoms stretching snug across her as she shifted her weight. She ran her hands slowly along the drawstring, knotting it tighter… then loosening it again, just because.

And then—there it was. A knock. Soft, hesitant. Not the brisk rap of a servant, but something careful. Personal.

She looked over her shoulder toward the door, her lips curling into the kind of smile that belonged to secrets.

“Come in,” she said, her voice low but steady.

The door eased open. He stepped in—hesitant, but unable to look away. His eyes took in the pale morning light, the delicate mess of her hair, the way her top had slipped further down her shoulder.

Anna tilted her head, braiding warmth and challenge into her gaze. “You’re early,” she teased.

He stepped closer, and the room seemed smaller, the air thicker. The soft creak of the floorboards beneath his boots was the only sound besides their breathing.

Anna didn’t move away. If anything, she leaned forward, just enough to close a little of the space between them. “Since you’re here…” she murmured, trailing her words so they hung between them like the charged air before a storm.

And just like that, morning in Arendelle wasn’t quiet anymore—it was electric.

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