Disclaimer: I own nothing related to the Frozen universe including, but not limited to, characters, names of places, lyrics, dialogue, or any other piece of product. Disney retains all the rights to this universe. I am making no money or receiving any kind of compensation, material or non-material, for this fiction. It's all for fun. Please don't sue me. I do claim the writing, the idea behind this particular narrative, and any peripheral characters or locations created to augment Disney's work.
A\N: This story is primarily Helsa with a healthy dose of established Kristanna and just about as much Frohana as anyone could ask for. It is a palate cleanser for all of my more heavy works-in-progress. It is a modern AU. There is no magic but it'll be fun. I promise. T for now, almost definitely going M in later chapters.
...
A swan is on the loose and hell bent on ripping off each and every custom satin seat cover at the ceremony site. As far as pre-wedding fiascos are concerned this is somewhere between The-Bouquets-Never-Arrived and Someone-Dropped-The-Cake. It is not unfixable, but it can certainly get there quickly.
The idea had put to put the supposedly docile creatures on the immense tiered fountain just before the guests arrived. They would swim and look majestic just behind the custom altar of grape leaves and peonies. The swans would provide just the right amount of fairytale here during the vineyard ceremony that was coordinated to end with a kiss just as the sun dropped to the most dramatic angle for was the idea, anyway, until one of the fine feathered bastards had figured out how to pull the pin out of the hinge on their cage and is now ruling over a white winged reign of terror.
Elsa wipes perspiration from her brow as she attempts to corner the errant bird. It would be a hell of a lot easier if there were actual corners instead of sweeping hills and a gorgeous sandstone courtyard.
"Come here you idiot." She clenches her teeth as the swan flaps its wings wide and hisses, backed up against the immaculate archway.
Where is Kristoff when she needs him? The hulking blonde man is the muscle of the group and he has a way with animals, two things she lacked. Her team is not on their mic system this early in the day which means she is stuck solo on this mission. He is well out of reach behind the grand brick winery setting up the reception tent with her sister, his wife, Anna.
Hopefully they are having better luck than she.
With a deep breath she lunges forward. The swan retaliates with its sharp beak snapping at her hand and wings beating. Elsa retreats.
"Where in the hell is the swan guy?" Elsa says to herself as she stares down her feathered foe with frustration mounting.
There is a schedule to keep in order for this day to go on without a hitch and wrangling a thirty pound bird is not on any of her agendas, but that is part of being an event planner. Something always went sideways but in the past five years of events and weddings no other bump in the road has ever tried to bite her. The damn thing is in front of her - hissing - and it is clear this is not going to end without a fight.
She is about to abandon her station to go find reinforcements when she feels a presence by her left shoulder. She whips her head to the side, half expecting to be attacked by another swan, but instead she is met by the sight of a man she has never seen before.
He has a shock of flame red hair, thick and combed back off of his aristocratic brow. His firm, sloping jaw matches the curve of his long nose. Her mind flashes through all of her vendors, of the grounds crew that she had met, but she can not place this man. He must be the swan man and is thus responsible for this mess.
She makes a note on her ever running mental to-do list to give him a piece of her mind and a one-star rating on yelp once this is all sorted.
"If you distract, I will catch." His voice is smooth, low, and honestly she is in no place to bargain.
"Fine." She is not too sure how to distract a swan, but she will give it a try.
She waves her arms above her head. "Woo hoo! Swan! Over here!" She wobbles her head and serpentines her body closer to the bird. The swan looks her way, arches his obscene neck back to strike again, and she was about to jump to safety when a huge white cloth sails through the air and lands atop the confused bird. The swan guy follows the cloth and wraps the bird a bear hug, the giant wings and fierce head smothered beneath the cloth. It is clear, however, that the restraint may not hold for long.
"Cage?" He struggles with the large animal.
Before Elsa can think why it is strange that he is asking her where he put his own cages she points behind the fountain, but realizes he cannot see her. She shakes her head.
"This way."
She scurries ahead to open the cage for the errant bird and his irresponsible keeper. The man wrestles the shrouded bird into the metal box with no little effort. Elsa stands to the side, uncertain what to do but wanting to be there just in case she could help. After a minute of struggling, the swan is finally back in its cage, pin in place and the cage door butted against the stone wall of the fountain to keep any more unwanted escapes in check.
The swan guy steps back from the cage, white cloth in hand, and wipes his brow. He is breathing heavily, broad chest rising and falling from exertion beneath the thin white shirt he is wearing, and she is glad that he seems to be in good shape since wrestling that bird was no small task. Still he should have had the animal under control at all times.
She crosses her arms over her chest. The clasps of her ratty old overalls dig into her skin, but that is a price you pay when you go into battle.
"Where exactly have you been? You were supposed to sit with the birds until it was time to put them on the water and instead you are off doing heaven knows what while one of your animals tries to single-handedly ruin the ceremony site."
He looks at her like he has absolutely no idea what she is talking about. He cocks his head to the side and quirks a perfect smile that she does not like even one bit. He acts like if he just plays dumb she will forget the entire thing just because he flashes his best Sunday Social smile.
"Come again?" He says as he turns towards her.
"Your bird! It is your job to stay with them so they do not get loose. You failed. I want an explanation."
He frowns a bit into his smile like he cannot quite sort her out and takes a few steps closer. One of his thumbs hook a belt loop on his fitted jeans. The white t-shirt he wears is new, pristine, and just a little too tight in just the right places. If she weren't so furious she may have been able to acknowledge that he is attractive.
"My bird?"
He is still a few feet away, but his tightened proximity along with whatever game he is playing makes her heart speed up. He is looking at her like he sees all of her and she does not appreciate it. She does not want to be seen and least of all by an incompetent vendor.
Her calf cramps as she tries to keep herself from stepping back. "Yes. Your bird."
He looks her from the explosion of snow white hair tied up on the top of her head down to her boot covered feet. His eyes wander as if they are taking in every little detail of her appearance. She crosses her arms over her chest tighter. She knows she looks a mess, but she does not need to justify her appearance to anyone - least of all some idiot who cannot keep swans in cages.
"I don't have any birds." He looks like he is trying to keep from laughing and she has no time for this. She has five thousand dollars worth of coral satin she has to salvage.
"Fine. You don't have any birds. Great. Well I don't have time to argue moot points, so if you'll excuse me I have a job to do. Just don't expect any referrals or repeat business from me." She turns on a heel, all too eager to get out of there, and nearly runs into someone.
It is a middle aged man. His button down shirt has a swan embroidered on the pocket and is tucked into neatly pleated khakis. His head is shaved, his waist soft, and Elsa stumbles back in confusion.
"Excuse me I just -" She looks the man from head to toe, taking in his utilitarian attire, and instantly realizes her mistake. Her cheeks flame with embarrassment. "You are the swan guy."
He does not seem too thrown off by her awkward titling and extends a broad, flat hand. She shakes it with firm, crisp efficiency.
"Horatio." He introduces himself, but it hardly registers as she feels eyes boring into the back of her head. "I was just parking my van after dropping the birds. Everything all right?"
"One of your swans escaped and destroyed some of the ceremony site." She normally has no trouble dressing down errant vendors, but she is so flustered that she hears the tremor in her voice.
Horatio's eyes bulge and dart around. "Where's the bird now?"
"Back in its cage which was no small feat I can assure you." She should give credit where it is due, but the idea trips her. She hears him snort behind her, sees Horatio acknowledge him, but she keeps her focus straight ahead.
"I've been telling the boss for months we need to upgrade the cages or get some locks or something. The birds are too smart for these."
Elsa sniffs. She prides herself in picking reputable vendors, had built a reputation around it, and to find that this one had cut corners only adds insult to injury, but she is not the kind of the kill the messenger. "Well when your boss is invoiced for the damaged slipcovers I am sure he may change his mind, but for now please do not let these animals out of your sight."
"Of course. Absolutely. I'm so sorry."
Elsa does not have time for apologies. She has seat covers to fix. She shakes her head.
"If you need anything look for me or any of my team and for the love of God, please keep your birds under control."
"Yes ma'am. Again, I am sorry. I know my boss -"
But Elsa is already moving back to the ceremony site as much from her need to fix what had been broken as it is to escape the teasing grin of that insufferable red-headed man.
It isn't professional, she knows, but at this point she has no time for tact. She is too embarrassed for tact. What had he even been doing there? She had it under control. She could have handled it with her team just fine before he had come gallivanting in and -
"Are you always this charming or do the swans just bring out the more luminous parts of your personality?" She had been so busy fuming she did not hear him come up the path behind her.
She sees him fall into pace with her out of the corner of her eye. Her cheeks are on fire. She may as well eat crow while it is still warm.
"This is our first event with swans and I had never met the vendor before today although he came highly recommended." She keeps her eyes straight ahead and picks up her pace, but he matches it easily. "So you must understand my natural assumption that you were the bird handler after you managed the bird with such confidence. It was an easy mistake, plus I had everything under control. I'm sorry you felt that you had to get involved."
They round the fountain and reach the altar by the end of her rambling. She does not stop her path though. She goes immediately to the chairs that had been plucked at by the swan and stoops to investigate.
"You know," he leans his forearm on the back of the chair next to the one she is inspecting. "That may be the worst apology I have ever received."
Indignance flashes hotter than embarrassment just long enough for her to look up at him and see his wide smile and the teasing glint in his green eyes. He is joking! Her sharp retort dies on her tongue. She looks back down at her work and tugs the fabric back in place a little harder than necessary. She does not know who this man is, but she knows he is not a vendor which means he is most likely a guest and that meant she needs to appease him. People did not score invitations to weddings that cost a cool million by being trailer trash.
She sucks in a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I'm a little preoccupied. Events like these are a complicated production and I get a little tunnel focused. It was a misunderstanding and I apologize."
She expects a thank you, some sort of snarky comment or indication that she is off the hook, but none come. Instead:
"You're tense."
"Excuse me?" She scoots over to appraise and straighten the next chair cover, straightening the gaudy contrasting gold satin bow, trying to focus on work instead of how intently she knows he is watching her every move.
"The muscles in your shoulders look tight enough to snap." He pushes up from his position to come alongside her and straighten askew seat covers as she is doing. She almost snaps at him to stop, but holds her tongue when she sees the care he takes with the posh fabric. His eyes catch hers. "What do you do to relax? Do you ever relax?"
It is a presumptive questions for someone who had only known her for five minutes. She normally shuts down any kind of nonprofessional inquiry from strangers, especially of the attractive male variety. She does not have time for that and not just because she was busy running a flourishing event planning company. She just did not have time. She will never have time, but she had been so rude and he is being so kind that she supposes she owes him this.
"I relax." Her mouth twitches at the playful disbelief she finds in his face.
"Really?" He flicks one of his eyebrows as thick and red as the hair on his head. "Doing what?"
"I like to read."
"What do you read?"
They are moving down the mussed row together now, working around each other to straighten the mess. She tries not to admire the attention he pays to the details of the corners, the crease of the bow, but she finds no flaw in the chair cover when is done with it. She runs a smoothing hand over the seat and gives an extra tug regardless.
She finds herself opening up to his questions, his warmth. It feels nice, nicer than she wants to admit, to bask in the attention. It tingles bright and sparkling beneath her skin. She forgets her anger, her embarrassment, in the wake of pleasant conversation with a perfect stranger.
"Non-fiction mostly. Autobiographies, histories, industry papers - you know - that sort of thing."
He gives a low chuckle. "No wonder you are so tense. None of those seem too relaxing."
She tries not to become defensive. "They can be."
"What about TV?"
Elsa thinks of the shows she watches with Anna. They are mostly reality fare revolving around weddings. Or if Kristoff has control of the remote the TV normally finds some sort of sporting match. She, however, never turns on the TV of her own accord.
She shrugs.
"Bubble baths?"
She snaps: "Never."
He pauses his work to look at her but she keeps going. She had been too emphatic in her denial.
"Never?"
She tries to sound as casual as she can. "They just aren't for me."
"Huh. Fair enough." She can hear the curiosity in his agreement. She cannot blame him. What normal person did not enjoy bubble baths? But she is not normal.
"What about you?" She deflects before he can ask her any follow up questions. "What do you do to relax?"
"Sailing." He does not hesitate. "It is my favorite thing to go out on a crisp morning and spend the whole day out out on the water. You have never seen a sunset until you see it on the open sea. The sun is so huge it looks like it will come down and set the world on fire, but somehow it slips past us and shows us the stars instead. It takes your breath away."
She does not notice that she stops her work to watch him talk. He sounds so - well - human. The conviction in his voice, the life, stirs something in her. He sounds so passionate, so open, so free and she wants - oh. It does not matter what she wants. She will never have it no matter how hard she works.
She turns back to straightening.
"That sounds nice." She offers, upset with herself for allowing her mind to wander to impossible things.
"Have you ever been sailing?"
She shakes her head.
"You should come out with me then. Next weekend. I'm going out with a group of friends for a day cruise. It is always a great time. You should join us."
It does sound like a great time, but she cannot risk it. There are too many ways it can go sour, too many chances for attachment to form where it should not.
"I have to work."
"Ah. Being an event planner probably kills most opportunities for weekend get-togethers."
"I don't mind. I love my job."
"Killer swans and all?"
She smiles at that, appreciating his wit. "Yes. Even then."
"You have a nice smile."
The compliment catches her off guard. Her hands tighten on the fabric she is adjusting and the smile is gone. She is not one who gets compliments. She does not want them, can not want them. It is too complicated. Her mind races to get in front of the rushing heat she feels at his praise.
She deflects, changing the subject. "You really seemed to know what to do with that bird."
"I watched a lot of Animal Planet as a kid." He shrugs and she has to make an effort not to smile at that. "Plus I grew up with a lot of brothers so I don't think there was ever a day of my childhood that did not involve wrestling something bigger and meaner than me."
"How many brothers did you have?"
"Twelve."
Her mind goes blank for an instant and she looks at him with wide eyes and gaping mouth. He gets a spark of mischief in his eye that tells her he is used to the shock of others at this particular junction.
"I could say quite a few things about my father, but one thing I will say is that Frederik Westergaard does nothing halfway."
Her mind grinds to a halt upon revelation. "Frederik Westergaard. As in Frederik Westergaard the hotel tycoon? He is your father?"
He grimaces a bit at her appraisal. "Ah. So you have heard of him."
Of course she has. Everyone in Arendelle and probably over the known world has stayed in a Westergaard hotel at some point in their life. His empire is limitless, his wealth unimaginable, and here is his son straightening chair covers next to her. Even worse - she had yelled at him. She is mortified. If he told his friends she could be blackballed from event planning in the upper echelons for the rest of her life - no matter how short it may be.
"You're a Westergaard." She wants to go under a rock and hide for the rest of the night.
"I'm also a Gemini and a groomsman in this wedding, but most people call me Hans."
She is not most people. She could not even afford the dirt off the bottom of his shoes.
Mercifully they finish the straightening then and she is able to stand and put some distance between them. Maybe he will not see how pink she knows her ears are with embarrassment.
"Well thank you so much for your help." She wipes shaking hands down the front of her overalls (she would meet a Westergaard while wearing overalls) and stares at the ground next to his feet. "But I have to get inside now."
No real damage had been done to the seats. A lot had just been knocked askew and needed to be righted. There was a small tear in one seam, but she had a needle and thread in her emergency bag inside the winery that could be used to fix that in no time flat. She just needs to get it, to get away from him and her embarrassment. Wait until Anna hears about this.
"So do I." He walks towards her and offers his arm. "Let me walk you up."
She thinks to refuse. It would not be professional to take the arm of a guest, but that will no doubt offend him and since she has already done that enough for her entire lifetime…. Gingerly she tucks her hand into the crook of his elbow, trying to touch as little of the smooth, firm skin of his bicep as possible. He is warmer than she expected, warmer than she feels like someone should be. He pulls his arm in against his side and sets a leisurely pace up out of the courtyard to the sidewalk leading to the winery.
It is only one hundred yards away, but at this pace it will take them the better part of a year to get anywhere. She tries to speed them up, but he does not allow it. They will go at his pace.
"Do you have a name?" He asks as he frustrates her every attempt to go faster.
"Elsa. Elsa Agnar." She thinks how funny it is to have introductions this far into the conversation. If only she had known who he was at the start of this mess she would have steered the entire thing a better direction.
"Well Elsa Agnar, it is my complete and total pleasure to make your acquaintance."
She looks up at him them and expects to see the teasing expression that is already becoming so familiar in reference to him, but instead she only finds sincerity, warmth. His green eyes roam her face, his mouth sets a soft smile, and he is close. Too close. She looks back at the path in front of them.
"Even if I yelled at you?"
"Especially since you yelled at me." She hears his sincerity and wonders at it. "Once people find out who I am - or rather who I am related to - well let's just say I do not get yelled at very often. It was refreshing."
She snorts. "You should go into event planning then. People are always yelling at you or your yelling at someone. There is a lot of yelling."
"Ah. If I had known I was getting a professional grade scolding I would have paid closer attention. To be honest I was a little distracted through all of it."
"Distracted? How?"
"I can't tell you." His response is so unexpected, his voice suddenly so solemn, that she is forced to look up at him again. For once, he is not looking back. "It would make you uncomfortable."
She does not tell him that she is already as uncomfortable as she has ever been. She looks forward again and tries to smooth her ruffled nerves.
"Fine. Don't then."
"You give up too easily." His voice is teasing again. He changes so quickly it makes her head spin. "It isn't a bad reason. It is a good reason." He leans in a bit and lowers his voice to whisper in her ear. "But I have a feeling that you would prefer a bad reason over a good reason. Now why is that?"
He stands back up but not before he lingered a moment longer than he needed to, his nose practically buried in her hair, his breath tickling the sensitive shell of her ear. It seems that blushing is to be her permanent state of being with him around.
"Criticism, if constructive, is how one grows." She dodges.
"And compliments?" His voice stays soft. "Can any good can come of those?"
They are close to the main building now. Its towering brick structure looming nearer and nearer with each step. If only they could reach it now so she can avoid these questions that make her heart race.
"I suppose - at the right time and for the right reason."
"So, hypothetically, if I told you now that I was distracted because I found you to be incredibly attractive would that pass your test of right time, right reason?"
She has no idea how they have gotten here in this conversation. She has no idea how she has gotten here at all. Ten minutes ago she was battling a swan and now she is being charmed by a man who she has no business talking to regardless of rank or station.
"I don't think there is ever a right time or reason for that." She says, but there is a part of her deep in her chest that wishes those words were not true.
"Then I suppose we will just have to agree to disagree on that point because I think things of beauty are worthy of praise."
They climb the two shallow steps that lead up to a grand wooden door. It is propped open now to allow easy flow as vendors and staff dart in and out at regular intervals. As they reach the threshold she tries to extract her hand from his arm, but he grabs it and turns his body into hers. The heat in his eyes hits her instantly. It echoes the warmth of his skin. How is it possible for one person to be so warm?
"Hold on."
He keeps hold of her hand with one of his while the other reaches for the top of her head. She flinches back, but he keeps her close. The tips of his finger brush the edge of her hairline and she feels the shiver of it run along her skin before he retracts both of his hands.
"You had this in your hair." He twirls a single feather between the tips of two long, elegant fingers. "Blow it away and make a wish."
She looks at his face, back to the feather, and then back up to his face. She sees his expectancy. She sees his interest. She had felt it in his touch, had felt her reaction to it, and realizes this has gone too far.
"It doesn't work like that. You can't wish on feathers." She takes a step back. The door frame pushes into her spine as she pulls a fortifying breath.
"Sure it does." He seems unfazed by her retreat. "You can make a wish whenever you want, this just makes it more fun."
"I don't make wishes."
"Then I'll make one for you."
He closes his eyes for a moment and she thinks of running, but he is where she needs to be. She will have to wait for him to go. Then he puckers the lips of his wide, generous mouth, and blows the feather into the air. It fluttered to the ground between their feet and he look back at her again. His eyes are bright and warm.
"Do you want to know what I wished for?" His voice takes on a low, silky tone that sends a rumbling through her. Trouble.
"You aren't supposed to tell me. It won't come true."
"You are awfully legalistic about wishes for someone who doesn't make them."
She is going to say something when he steps into her again, as close as he was before, and she has nowhere to go. The cool wood of the door frame is unyielding. He makes no move to touch her, but her skin tingles everywhere at the possibility. It is unnerving.
"I wished for just the right words to get you to say 'yes' to seeing me again after today." He licks his lips, watching her face intently.
Her heart hammers against her ribs. She tries to keep it professional. "I'm sure we will run into each other again at other events my team and I plan."
"I'm asking for a date." He smiles as he calls her bluff. "We could grab drinks, or dinner. We could take my boat down to Corona for the day. There is a bakery there with pastries that melt in your mouth the second they touch your tongue and an old theater that has been renovated into the most beautiful bookstore you've ever seen. I'd love to show it to you."
The potential sings through her. It could happen. It could be amazing. It could be so many things if only she were able to accept. She takes a deep breath, unable to look away from his pleading gaze.
"I don't go on dates." Her voice comes out soft, unconvincing, and she mentally kicks herself.
He cocks his head to one side, face puzzled. "Why not?"
There is not enough time for a real explanation, not that she will give it anyway. So she goes for her default. "I like to be alone."
He actually laughs at that one. The reaction is so unexpected it startles her. Everything about this man is surprising and that sets her on edge, off balance. He puts one hand above her head and leans in.
"No one likes to be alone."
"I do."
His smiles takes on a new edge, like a locksmith enjoying the process of tripping tumblers.
"You keep telling yourself that, but I'm going to prove you wrong."
There is a burst of light and energy from the entry hall and Elsa's eyes tear to the distraction.
"Elsa! There you are - " It is Anna, red braid swinging around her narrow shoulders, but she stops the moment she processes the tableau in front of her. Her blue eyes go wide. "Uh - I um - Kristoff and I - uh - wow. Okay. We need help with something in the tent. Okay?"
Elsa can read every racing thought on her sister's flustered face. They mirror her own. She glances back to Hans to find that he is no longer leaning, but is still too close. His eyes still spark a challenge that tells her that even if she leaves now - this is far from over. She slips past him towards her sister.
"If you'll excuse me." She forces the words out past the lump in her throat. "The groom's room is down the hall to the right."
Her legs shake as she approaches her sister, can feel his eyes on her retreating back, and hears him chuckle. She grabs Anna's arm as she passes and steers her sister around the corner and out of his sight. Still his voice follows her as she tries to make her way to the reception tent and the clean, clear sanity of work.
"Save a dance for me tonight, will you?"
...
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