Rifiuto: Non Miriena

A/N: Any thoughts so far? For those of you who have read her countless stories on this site, it's different to her usual, isn't it? Written: 2019 - Licia

It took time, but they were able to get back to camp before darkness fell, the injured man among them. Elsa had described what she'd found when she got there, and Yelena had told her not to worry, that she'd done the right thing, sending a signal instead of leaving him. She'd then stood back and watched as they'd taken him to her hut- because it was furthest away from the rest of the chaos of the camp, and it would be certain he'd be able to heal after the damage was assessed. Elsa had just nodded, leaving Yelena and the healers to work on the man. As everyone had been preparing for dinner, she made her way to the Nokk, who stood waiting for her still in his frosted form.

"Elsa?" She turned to see Honeymaren holding out a bowl. Her blue gaze glanced at it before she gently shook her head.

"No thank you, Honeymaren. I'm not hungry."

"You need to eat, Elsa." Ryder said, joining his sister. Elsa laughed, shaking her head.

"I don't mean to sound rude, Ryder, but... I'm a Spirit. Forgive me if I reject food, because they don't eat." The siblings shared a glance, before Honeymaren sighed and tried again, reaching out for her.

"Elsa, Spirit or not, you need sustenance."

But the white-blonde ignored her, going to the Nokk and gently stroking his muzzle. A moment passed, as she rested her forehead to his muzzle, and something seemed to pass between the two, before she moved and hoisted herself onto the horse's back, unaware of the streak of blood she'd left on the frost; the same streak of blood that was across her forehead, from when she'd rested against the man's to calm him. "No, I don't. Come on, we're going for a ride." She gently nudged the Nokk, tugging on the reigns. She leaned down, gently patting the horse's neck. "Ready?" It reared its head in agreement, and after a moment, she tugged harder on the reigns and turned the animal.

"But Elsa-"

Honeymaren's protest died on the wind as Elsa and the Nokk galloped away; Yelena watched from the doorway of Elsa's hut. The girl was skittish; something had spooked her, made her decide to get out of the camp, and she most likely wouldn't be back until the next day. She had known the girl for two years now, and had begun to recognize that when Elsa needed her space- truly needed her space- she often fled back to Ahtohallan. The chief didn't begrudge her her desire for a small amount of freedom, but this... this was peculiar.

As the camp faded into the background of the day, Elsa spurred the Nokk on, towards the Dark Sea. She needed to be away from the camp for a while. The waves picked up as they dashed upon them; the frost she'd coated the horse in began to melt away, leaving the smooth surface of the water instead, and Elsa gently reached down to pat the horse's neck. It instantly understood.

She didn't understand it; how had her day gone from calm and relaxing to... chaos? Because that's what it was. First the voice had returned, calling to her once again, then the discovery of the raid on the gypsies, and now the discovery that the man she'd found knew her name? He'd said her name, like he knew it from somewhere.

It was probably because he heard Yelena say your name when she reached you. She wanted to believe that was what the small voice in her head meant, but she couldn't be entirely sure. The waves picked up a little more, but the Nokk never broke his steady stride. That has to be it; he heard Yelena speak your name, and was just conscious enough to be able to repeat it.

And yet, something didn't sit well about that suggestion. Something tugged deeper, into the pit of her stomach, that told her that she knew the man, from her past, from her time in Arendelle. She shook her head as rain began to pour, trying to toss aside the feeling in her stomach, but it was no use. The idea remained.

When she looked up through the pelting rain, she could see the shimmer of the glacier not far away. Instantly, she began to feel slightly calmer, the tension in her stomach easing. Ahtohallan had been her calm; it was where she could go when she needed to get away, where she could relive the memories of her childhood, learn the secrets of her past.

Technically, if Elsa thought about it, as the Fifth Spirit, she was the Guardian of Ahtohallan; the protector of the memories of the past. Like Anubis, who weighed the hearts of those arriving to enter into the afterlife, she had taken it upon herself to guard the slopes of Ahtohallan from any who wished to delve too deep into the past. Not that she needed to worry about it being a major job, since very few ships ventured into the Dark Sea, and those that did, didn't survive to reach its shores. But still, at least it gave her something to do.

She thought back to the man and the look in his green eyes. He'd been in so much pain, and though her cool touch had helped a bit, it wasn't enough. But it wasn't only pain she'd seen in his eyes; she'd seen fear as well. Like he believed she was Death come to take him across the River Styx into the underworld. She sighed; she'd seen that fear very little in her short twenty-six years; Hell, she'd felt that very same fear in the depths of Ahtohallan. And then he'd breathed her name before the pain knocked him unconscious- but it was the way he said it, as though he were surprised, like he were discovering a long-lost friend after decades apart.

"Elsa."

She shivered, releasing a breath once they reached the shores of Ahtohallan. Without a word, she slid off the Nokk, stepping back and bowing gently to it, as it did the same in return before dashing back into the sea. Now alone on the glacier, she turned towards its opening. It was on one of her many flights back in the first year in the Enchanted Forest, that she'd discovered that Ahtohallan was, as far as glaciers went, huge. It rose out of the sea, jagged and rocky, so similiar to the shores of the distant Southern Isles that at first Elsa had had difficulty exploring the surrounding 'beaches' as she called them.

The time it had taken her to traverse the glacier in the weeks after she'd settled into her new role had been long, usurped by the terrain, her whirling emotions and the strong pull she felt to go into the glacier, had been numerous; by the time she actually managed to traverse the entire area, she was surprised to find that there were small pockets for people to take cover, as though the glacier had intended to take care of those who visited.

It had given her an idea; though she chose to stay with the Northuldra, she felt more content at times to stay away from them. Ahtohallan would be the perfect place for her to escape when she needed to. And so she'd dashed back to the entrance... and then stopped. A moment had passed, and then she'd conjured up a storm of sleet and snow, in the hopes that the glacier understood her request. At the time, she'd felt like an idiot, but it had responded well to her gift and granted her request. She couldn't exactly say what had transpired, or what, or who, had accepted her request, but she had the deep sense that the glacier was alive, had always been alive.

Water has memory, she shook Olaf's words from her mind and moved towards the slopes of her temporary home.

It had allowed her to build; sculpting a small palace out the back of the glacier, within the ancient rock, that was hers and hers alone. Because it was created within the glacier itself, it made Elsa's connection to the ancient river and magic that much stronger. And, if she were honest with herself, she was content on the other side of the glacier; it was calmer- the water raged not as much as at the entrance, as if it knew she would take up residence on it's north-facing side.

Once she had reached the other side of the glacier, she hurried up the steps and into her small palace. She was grateful that she was allowed to have a small place literally carved out for her that she could call her own. She just needed time to herself every once and a while. She had stopped looking at it as self-isolation, and more as self-reflection, a time for her to be away from her role as the keeper of the spirits and protector of the forest.

Turning back, she gazed out across the Dark Sea, and then slipped inside, shutting the door softly behind her. The glittering ice chandelier glittered in the darkness, and after a moment, she held out a hand, blowing on it. A million ice crystals had formed and begun to rise from her palm, and blowing on them simply helped to move them along. They settled in the sconces of the chandelier, and the room filled with glittering light. It was one of the few perks of her powers continuing to grow.

With a sigh, she moved through the palace, past the foyer area and up the stairs, towards her room and the library. A fireplace sat carved into the wall, and after a moment, she shot a spark of ice towards it; the ice melted instantly and began giving off heat- not enough to melt the place, but enough to warm her. It was another perk of growing powers; not only could she manipulate ice and snow, but she could now create what she called 'blue flames'- fire made from ice that gave off heat just as Bruni's fire did, but that didn't melt the ice around it.

What she could do defied the laws of physics, but then again, elemental spirits were prone to doing that. With a sigh, she took a seat in the armchair, slouching into it and becoming lost in the dancing blue flames. Her thoughts drifted back to that afternoon, and the man she'd helped. Something about him was exceedingly familiar and it was starting to grate on her nerves, because she couldn't for the life of her remember what it was. A moment passed before she got up, going to the shelves. Her fingers skimmed the rows of books; Anna, in the last couple of years, had given her the extra copies of some of the books in the Arendelle castle library; their father believed in multiple copies of everything- for safekeeping, for expanding on ideas and questioning everything.

Agnarr of Arendelle had been an exceedingly curious child, and an even more curious man, and it was unfair that the Dark Sea had so cruelly ripped both him and Iduna from their daughters' lives. But then again, it was unfair that Elsa had essentially been ripped from Anna's life- but this time, not necessarily by her own hand. It had been fate that had separated the sisters. Elsa snorted.

Fate.

Such a cliche. She pulled down a book, read the first page, and put it back before returning her fingers to the spines.

Events destined to happen within a person's life, things that are out of their control, according to the great philosophers- but then again, one could argue that fate was not necessarily predetermined events, but events shaped by one's own actions.

The choices we make, chart the course for our lives, like a pirate's map. It's our choice to follow the trail marked on the map or not, but nothing is predetermined, as her father would often say. Her father thought similarly to her- he turned to the Greek philosophers and the laws of physics and psychology when making decisions that affected the welfare of his people and kingdom; he valued knowledge over profit, making sure his people were educated before wealthy. The wealth of Arendelle would build from the education of her people, he had told her once. And the little girl, then a child of roughly eight years, had listened with rapt attention, taking his words to heart. And she had built on his policies and ideals, making Arendelle perhaps the wealthiest of all the Scandinavian countries by the time she abdicated. And yet, even two years on, she prayed that Anna would do the right thing and not mess with the treasury or reserves. Not that she didn't trust her sister; she did. Hell, Anna had sacrificed herself for her during her Eternal Winter, protecting Elsa and ensuring monarchy survived. However, Anna was also known to be impulsive, and wouldn't think twice before spending on something she deemed good for the kingdom; she was still young, and had only had two years of rule under her belt.

She pulled down another book, but this time, instead of opening it immediately, she went back to the armchair, taking a seat and then opening it up. A soft sigh escaped her, and she settled back to read. She hadn't touched Plato in a while. Her attention was kept for on the book for a good hour or two, before her gaze began to blur; she could only spend so much time reading Plato, for his subjects were heavy. Not that the arguments he put forth weren't interesting, but they were weighty and for anyone else, hard to follow; Elsa, having grown up reading Plato and other philosophers her entire life, could handle the meat Plato often handed in regards to his theories and philosophies, except when she was tired.

And given the day she'd had-

With a sigh, she marked her page and closed the book, setting it aside before getting up and going to her desk. A letter sat atop, waiting to be finished.

Dear Anna,

Her gaze scanned the remaining contents, and she sighed. It was the same letter she'd been working on for the last two weeks. Anna had updated her on everything going on in Arendelle; how the harvest was thriving and the treaties she'd put in place five years earlier were still strong, and how she missed Elsa terribly and that she wanted nothing more than for her sister to return- to leave the Enchanted Forest and her life as the Fifth Spirit and return to her, as Anna put it, 'rightful place on the Arendelle throne'. It was one of those letters where Elsa could tell Anna was in the midst of a nervous breakdown, but she hadn't had a chance to visit.

She doubted that she could finish the letter tonight, for she had just as much energy and eagerness to finish it now than she did two weeks ago. With a sigh, she turned and left the study, making her way to the bedroom. Starting a fire in the small fireplace, she took a seat on the bed, reaching over to smooth the soft sheets made of frost. Those in the Northuldra didn't fully understand why she had built the palace and furnished it; they didn't understand that her skin was naturally cold due to her magic, and that the cold never truly bothered her, and that she just needed a place that in some way resembled what had been her home for twenty-four years.

After a moment, she stripped down, changing into a pair of leggings and a tunic made of ice before crawling beneath the covers, though sleep didn't come easily. She shifted, turning face the wall; she could see the light pulse of the magic within Ahtohallan, and let herself focus on it. Though her body was beyond exhausted, her mind wouldn't shut off, and after half an hour or so, she kicked back the blankets and stood, pulling on her slippers and leaving the room. As long as her mind was focused on the man that was at the camp, being treated for his wounds, she wouldn't be able to sleep, because her mind wouldn't stop searching for the connection she felt to him.