Rifiuto: Non Mirena

Gifted with the voice of a siren. One daughter of the chief of each generation was gifted with the voice of a siren, bestowed upon her by Fifth Spirit herself. Elsa knew better though- it was Mother Nature who had gifted the daughters with the song of the siren, taken from her own daughter without a second thought. Stolen from her as her diadem had been, Lærke had soon learned to keep her self-trained gift under lock and key. No wonder she resented and distrusted Mother Nature so deeply; the ancient elemental had done nothing to earn her youngest daughter's trust, and everything to break it.

A gift given by Fifth Spirit, signifying the justification, in ancient times, of the Chief's right to the throne. Elsa stopped, gently parting the flap of their hut to peek inside. They had found nothing of any use, and all searching in regards to the trolls had been cast aside as Elsa had learned more of the troubled history of the Elementals she was a part of- and the strained relationships Mother Nature had with all her children.

"But you must be careful, Elsa," Magni had warned gently. "There is always a price to be paid. Mother does not give advice without expecting something in return. And she will often not say what that price is until it is to be collected."

"You think that the-"

"I don't know, but I wouldn't trust it completely. I would be wary of it, were I you. Focus on your family for now; your husband and children. Leave the trolls to Lærke- she should be able to come up with something, and if not, then at least some idea."

After Magni had returned her across the Dark Sea and bid her farewell, she had trekked back to the camp; it was dark, and as she came upon the campsite, the warmth from the bonfire had greeted her; not long before Bruni went zipping past towards the logs. It had taken all she had to stifle her laughter, before making her way to her hut.

Peeking inside, she watched in silence as Hans sat among the blankets of their bed, both girls in his lap, curled against his chest. Hans gently spoke, weaving a story for his daughters that their mother couldn't make out. It was so rare that she got to watch her husband with their daughters, and she relished in it for the time being. It was hard to believe that she was the mother of now nine month old twin girls; and oh, how beautiful they were becoming with each passing day.

Both girls had heads of blonde curls, though there were hints of copper within as well, and blue eyes that were clearly hers before the Threading. And while they were clearly identical, their personalities were as different as night and day- Thea, Elsa's darling surprise child was as calm and quiet as she was, while Iduna- or Dela, as she and Hans had taken to calling the little girl, a shortening of her middle name, Adelaide- was as giggly and inquisitive as Hans. They were beautiful, and very much attached to their parents, but so far, there wasn't a hint of magic, not that Elsa or Hans could see, which, for them- or Elsa, at least- was a huge relief.

Quietly, she opened the flap of the hut and stepped inside, drawing her husband's gaze from the little girl in his arms to her. He smiled at her, and she put her hands on her hips, a look of mock sternness crossing her features as she watched them. "It's late, Johannes, and little girls need to be in bed." He smiled softly at her, recognizing the mock-seriousness of her tone.

"I was just telling them a story before bed, Elsa Dahl."

She softened, slipping out of her shoes before joining him among the blankets of their bed, taking Dela into her arms. The child snuggled close, and Elsa kissed her head. "What kind of story?"

"A story about a beautiful Snow Queen." She met his gaze, smiling softly.

After putting the girls to bed and slipping beneath the covers of their own, Elsa snuggled into Hans' chest, feeling him press a soft kiss to her hair as he slid his arm around her waist. "You got back late." She nodded. "Did you find anything?" A moment passed, as she bit her lip, and he shifted to look at her. "Els? Charlotte, what is it?"

She sat up, tugging her hair over her shoulder and beginning to play with it. A moment passed, before Hans sat up as well, watching her silently. Finally, she spoke. "The... the voice that called me to Ahtohallan two years... three year..." She stopped, flustered, and forced herself to take a breath. "I thought it was my mother's, echoed by the North Wind, but-"

"But?"

"But turns out, it's Lærke's. Fifth Spirit's." She clarified; Hans still wasn't used to the Spirits having actual names, and Elsa didn't begrudge him. "Lærke's voice was a gift given to the daughter of the Chieftains of the Northuldra. In ancient times, it signified the Chief's right to the throne, if one of his daughters possessed the voice of the Fifth Spirit- the siren call."

"Okay." Hans waited. "I don't understand. What's so important-"

"Christian, my mother had the voice of a siren. Lærke was the mythical voice on the Dark Sea, luring sailors to their deaths with her song. When Mother Nature gave Humans pieces of her last creation- Soul- she gave the daughter of the Northuldra Chief the voice of a siren; it was the way to show the Chief was worthy to rule."

He shrugged. "Charlotte, I don't see-"

"The voice I followed to Ahtohallan that day... essentially, it was my own voice; it was my siren song. I lured myself, because my voice is a copy of my mother's, and my mother's was Lærke's. Understand now, husband? Everything leads back to Lærke. The song, the trolls, the diadem... me..." She stopped. "I am the physical manifestation of Lærke- of the two of us, I am the one who can walk upon land while she stays with the river." She met her husband's gaze, her own filled with realization, hurt, and something else he couldn't name. "I'm not a goddess, but I'm the physical manifestation of an element. And the Elements are as close to gods as they can get. It's why the Northuldra call us Spirits- ånd- it's the ancient Northuldrain word for God. It's what the people used to call the Chiefs, because they were believed to be close to God."

She sighed, tucking her legs beneath her as Hans tugged her close; she had studied the ancient tribes, what she could, anyway- and gleaned what she was able to from the Elders during her two years in the tribe. "Elsa-"

"Yelena called me a goddess once, an ånd... and now I know that's what she meant. Yelena very much followed the old beliefs, because that was how she'd been raised, especially after the mist fell. They had no choice, but to turn back to the old ways; it was the only way they could survive." Silence fell between the pair, before she turned to meet his gaze, something tugging at her mind. "Trolls are attracted to beauty right?" He nodded. "Would that include... voices?"

Hans met her gaze. "In theory, if the voice is beautiful enough, then yes. Why?"

She met his gaze. "I think I have an idea. But it might not work until I actually confront her."