Elsa wasn't one to not get her way. She wasn't about to give up - that was exactly what Jon wanted her to do. So, instead she devised a plan to get her child.
She asked, with a severe blush in her face, for a seamstress to make her a very, very short, sheer dress and waited patiently for the woman to take measurements of her waist, hips, and bust. What the woman mananged to make was beyond what the young queen had had in her mind. The chest cut low and plunged between her breasts, which were held up in soft, pink material. At the bottom of that, almost like a curtain had been attached to hang down around her and ended mid thigh, and a pair of her underwear had been carefully cut apart so it only covered her most private areas.
It was provactive, but that was the point. The point was for him to want to touch and fuck her, to let her have a child. She wasn't sure when would be a good chance to get all done up in it, but one day Sylvia is called to a neighboring kingdom where her family lived - her father had died. She gets up far earlier than him, dresses up and stares at herself in the mirror, so desperate and frantic, and then begins to braid her hair and pin it up.
She enters the bedroom where he was sleeping and walks in as quietly as possible, blowing out the burning candles, and letting the door close softly behind her. She padded over to the bed, bare feet light on the cold floors as she moved gracefully up to her husband. He was fast asleep, turned into his pillow and on his side while he drooled.
He's so pathetic, God.
She brushed the thought aside and began to pull back the blankets that kept her from him. "Jon, honey, it's time to wake up. I need you." She plopped herself on top of him, earning a groan of fuck off and began to get comfortable, laying on top of him. "I need your attention today, I've gone too long without it."
Her husband finally moves the pillow, surprised to see her smiling on top of him, her long hair braid and pulled back, and most of her body naked or barely covered.
"Wow, Elsa, you look-"
"Different?" She asked, giving a small smile and kissing his forehead. "I know." She shifted so she was sitting up on his groin and shifted slightly, the bulge in his pants rather uncomfortable and foreign between her legs, even clothed. She didn't even feel the slightest warm to the thought of sex, but rather stiff, cold and afraid. But, at the same time, she really wanted her child, a giggling baby who would love her as much as she wanted to be loved.
Swiftly, with a fake smile, she moves just a tiny bit to work on his drawers. She worked with the buttons, quickly getting the first few undone and then beginning to pull them down, her hands shaking and skin clammy.
"King Jon! Queen Elsa!" A man shouts, a loud knock on the door sending fear shooting through every inch or her body, and she yanks herself away from her husband, like she had been burned or her mother had just walked in on her doing something so scandalous as this.
"Coming!" She shouted, unhooking her legs from around him and grabbing for the door. She tripped on the bedding, but managed to open it on the second try, the door swinging open for her. The guard looked befuddled at her appearance, but quickly recovered and didn't let his eyesight drop below her eyesight. "What's wrong?"
"A ship hit an iceberg, about forty meters out of the docks, I gander."
She bit her lip, looking back into the bedroom where Jon was peacefully snoring again. "Alright, take me out there, I'll see what we can do."
"Are you certain you do not wish to-" The guard cleared his throat and then looked down. "Ah, nevermind. Come along, your highness, to the docks."
Outside it was pathetically cold. The sun had barely risen and was messy as it tried to rise above the horizon. Wind howled as she ran across to the docks, most definitely, it was going to rain later. She stepped out onto the docks, and immediately regretted not changing. She sought out a captain and ran up to him, trying to tug down her skirt. "Give me a time slot."
"Yes, your majesty," He replied, giving a quick bow. "At roughly five this morning, the Southern Isles shipment arrived, escorted by Admiral Westergard. They have not left yet, still unloading. At six, a small passenger ship attempted to set out, however with the winds, they sailed straight into a iceberg."
"Have any people been recovered?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Three men and two women were able to swim back, however, judging by the log, there is at least seven other people aboard." He replied. At that moment, there was a splash and a man helped a sopping wet woman up and two men who were gasping for air and spitting out sea water. "Four more now, I guess," The captain corrected.
"Well, send out a small rescue boat-" She stopped when she heard a loud splash and the man who had been helping people out of the sea jump in and begin swimming out towards the sinking passenger boat.
"Is he fucking insane?" One of the sailors yelled. "Who the fuck does he think he is? He's gonna get himself killed!"
They watched the lithe man swim out, and she had to admit he did it rather rapidly despite being bogged down with his amount of clothing. He had only stripped off his heavy wool jacket before jumping in, and it was pooled underneath her feet while she stood at the end of the dock watching him. After what seemed like forever, he was swimming back towards them, bobbing to keep afloat as he carried the weight of two other people. When he arrived, he threw the first up and had someone help the other up. He locked eyesight with her for a second, bright green eyes, before he took a breath and dived back under.
"Who the fuck is that guy?" Someone asked again. People were gathering now, whispering about the brave hero, the boat, and the Queen dressed like a woman from the whorehouse.
The man came back this time, breathing heavy as he pulled another person up to them. "I'm going out for the last person-"
"You're not going to be much use, all tired like that," The captain explained, frowning. "Hell, you won't be any use. You'll drown both of you."
"I can't just leave them there," He argued.
"You're going to have to." Someone else said, and then grabbed his hand to pull him up. Wet boots squeaked and squelched as he stood, soaked to the bone as he stood and shivered.
"There's only so much you can do, Westergard."
He frowned and began to take off his wet clothing, ignoring the men who were offering up advice to him. He pulled off his boots and then began to unbutton his shirt, letting it fall to the docks, and pulling off his undershirt. Someone cleared their throat before he began to unbutton his trousers, however. "What?"
"You are in the presence of the Queen, Admiral," The captain said, gesturing to her. She tried to shrink away, however, since she wasn't exactly dressed like one. She folded her arms over her cold chest, however, and turned to address him, but not before he dropped the dry wool coat over her shoulders.
"You looked a little cold," He said, going back to his work. He picked the top shirt up and began to wring it out, cold water splashing onto his feet. If he did mind, he ignored it and continued to do so.
She cleared her throat, tugging the coat on closer to her to close it. It was heavy, and she smiled a little. "Ahem, Admiral Westergard, on grounds of serving the Arendelle family, you are invited to spend the night in the castle for dinner and the night, on behalf of your brave actions."
He wrung out the shirt the rest of the way. "If you insist." He gave her a sly smile, and threw the shirts over his shoulder and picked up his boots.
