Yo yo yo! How's everybody doing? So like guys, I did not think I would get any actual attention from this, but cool, cool. Anywho right, so I rewrite the entire first 6 chapters, so maybe restart because there are added little extra important things now imbedded in the chapters that is gonna make this a really ttrippy ride from start to finish if you don't start back at the beginning. Also, seriously guys, I only got the one review so it might end up g!p Elsa, so if you're not looking for that give me a shout. Anywho, on with the show.

Elsa woke up to screaming from upstairs. She immediately untangled herself from the couch, which both her and Anna had managed to fall asleep on again. She made her way to the front stairwell and started to climb towards the screaming that she could now determine to be her son. The first time it had been terrifying.

Olaf's screams carried into the kitchen after the two-year old's year of silence. Elsa turned away from the granite counter tops, leaving behind the vegetables she was previously chopping as she took off at a sprint towards the stairs, holding a knife the entire time. She climbed the stairs and threw open her sons door to see the unconcious boy screaming loudly while he cried. Elsa made her way to his bedside and gently shook him awake. The small boy was still shaking with sobs as he looked up at Elsa. "Momma?" The boy called.

"Sh. I'm right here." Elsa soathed as the boy fell back to sleep.

Olaf had only been easier to take care of after that. He no longer remembered his own mother and she had really taken up the position, as she towed him from therapist to therapist trying to explain the dreams that plagued her lovely son. When diagnosed with night terrors there was only more to bond about. Elsa had been diagnosed with night terrors herself early in her life that hadn't plagued her in decades, but ever since her 23rd birthday the night terrors had weighed hard down on herself. This gave the two something to bond over. As Olaf would lay in his bed and Elsa would sit on the edge comforting him, he would tell stories, as if possesed, about shadows and monsters, everywhere, screaming as they closed in on him. When these stories would end, the young boy would look up concerned at his mother and ask about her dreams. So Elsa lied. She lied as she told him fabricated stories about falling, bleeding, being attacked, because she could not tell him the truth. She could not explain to her four year old son the horrors she experienced daily at the hands of a neglectful father who spent day in and day out locked in his own study ignoring them, while Idunn had run the house, had run the business, had taken care of the children. She could not tell her son that the night terrors that plagued her were not those fabricated late at night to make her sympathetic son worry less for her, but rather memories, the only firm ones she has had of her father since the accident. The memories that plagued her were things she couldn't change, things she couldn't protect, because her father had already ripped them away from her.

Elsa was reminded of all this, as she appreciated the first night's sleep that she had had since the accident. When she made it upstairs to his room, it was only seconds later, and as she eyed him she knew Olaf would soon go from whimpering to full blown screaming if she didn't stop him, so she climbed onto the bed and whispered to him till the whimpering stopped. Elsa kissed her son on the forehead, and still feeling tired, she pulled the blanket over herself and wrapped her arms around her son as they both drifted off to sleep, neither noticing the redhead in the doorway looking on affectionately.

Elsa awoke to an uncomfortable feeling in her back as she looked about herself. She immeadiately recognized Olaf's bedroom but upon looking around she did not see the little boy, so she threw the blankets off herself and climbed out of the bed. Upon reaching the stairwell, she was greeted with a pleasant smell, as she walked down to the foyer then through the living room to the kitchen. There she was greeted with a pleasant sight of her son and bestfriend in aprons as the redhead stood by the stove and Olaf stood on a chair. "Hey." Elsa's voice croaked in greeting.

"Mommy!" The little boy turned around as he twisted around in his chair to see the blonde. She moved around the island in the center of the kitchen and slid up behind Olaf's chair and peeked past his shoulder as she hugged the little boy. "Anna's teaching me to make crepes." Elsa giggled, covering her smile with her hand.

"Careful, Olaf. If you tell your mom that you can cook crepes, she might expect them at every waking hour." The redhead teased as she leaned over to pinch the blonde's side. Elsa immeadiately jerked away from her friend and quietly walked away from the kitchen table to watch from the distance.

"Anna." Olaf whispered.

"Yes?" The redhead asked as she leaned down to put her ear next to the small boy's mouth.

"Mommy doesn't like touching." The boy said seriously.

"What are you talking about? We hug all the time. You've seen us." Anna responded confused, and unbelieving.

"Mommy doesn't touch unless she has too." Olaf explained again. This gave Anna pause as the little boy went back to the bowl of batter he was stirring. She thought back to every time Elsa had touched her in the last day and a half. Sure, she had never initiated anything unless Anna was crying, but the blonde had held her through her sleep, but then she thought back to the moment she witnessed in the bedroom earlier.

After Elsa had climbed into Olaf's bed, Anna had sat in the livingroom watching television until she heard the blonde. Well she was mostly sure that it was the blonde, so she had walked back up the stairs to Olaf's room to check when she found Elsa laying alone in the boy's bed while she thrashed back and forth. When Anna had seen her, she knew immediately it was the same night terrors that had plagued her through childhood but the redhead was certain that the blonde had them under control ever since she was seven. This train of thought about the other things she missed, was interrupted by the bathroom flushing and when Anna walked out of the room, leaving Elsa to toss and turn, knowing that she couldn't help her without waking her up which would lead to a conversation about the past that the redhead had no idea where to begin. She turned towards the bathroom and there stood Olaf, half asleep from his nap, but full of the energy of a four year old, so she had suggested cooking.

Only now, cooking seemed intimidating as she was observed by Elsa who continued to sit at the table smiling at her son as he stirred batter. "Anna, how old are you?" The young boy asked. The redhead spluttered.

"You're not supposed to ask someone there age." She responded.

"It was the first thing you asked me." The litle boy countered.

"25." Elsa answered for her.

"Hey!" Anna yelled at the blonde exasperatedly.

"He's four. You can't cut him some slack?" The blonde teased.

"Well I guess." The redhead resigned.

"Mommy, how old are you?" Olaf asked.

"27." The blonde answered.

"Not for long!" The redhead responded. "In a month your mom's gonna be 28 and then she'll be old." Anna teased. Elsa paused then.

"I suppose that's correct. You know that we're having a party for it?" She asked.

"Well, yeah, of cour—oh. Hans."

"Yeah."