Rifiuto: Non Miriena

A/N: So, at first I thought the 'five names' was an error, when in reality, there are six, but I asked Zani, and she meant it as Elsa's 'five middle names', it was often common for monarchs to have six or seven middle names, especially in the 14th, 15th, 16th, and 17th into the early 18th century.

Written: 2019 - Licia

"Woah! Easy, Nokk!"

She gently tugged on the reigns, and the water horse stopped by the bank of the river, staying still as Elsa disembarked. She nodded to the horse, and he nodded in return before returning to the water. Once he was gone, Elsa continued the trek to the camp, stopping to pay respect to the runes at the entrance; she had been so preoccupied that she had forgotten to do so the last few times she'd returned to the village.

Once done, she made her way through the forest and into the camp; the sunlight streamed through the trees. It was early still, about nine in the morning, were she to guess. She quickly adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder, feeling the box bump gently against her hip. Having spent the last two days trying to get the damned thing open had proved futile. She'd done everything from try to jimmy it open to blasting it with ice and holding it in freezing water and still nothing.

So, finally, she decided that she better have Hans look at it. He could tell her what the eel and crocus together meant, how to open it; it was his box, after all.

Her gaze darted to Yelena, who stood talking with the one of the other elders, and after a moment, she quickened her pace, ducking into her hut at the very back of the camp. "You finally decided to come back? I thought you'd left for good."

She looked up as she removed the bag; he looked better- his color was coming back, and he appeared to be actually getting some sleep, unlike herself. Slowly, she made her way towards him, drinking him in as much as he was drinking in her.

It was clear she wasn't sleeping; the circles beneath her eyes were proof, and she seemed thinner than last week when she'd come in to change the bandage. Was she eating? It didn't seem like it. Her hair still hung down her back and over her shoulders, that one short strand of hair curling over her forehead and giving her a childishness about her. It was rather enduring. As she knelt down beside him and reached to remove the bandages, he let his gaze flick quickly over her body. She wasn't dressed in what she'd worn last week, or even the week before, whenever he'd seen her last; he couldn't remember. Perhaps it was the injury, causing the running on of days.

But either way, she's different. Not just her face and her eyes, but her clothes. Actually... everything about her is different. How did I not truly notice this before?

"Sit up, let me see." She helped him up, and quickly undid the bandage, putting it aside. She was pleased to see what she'd applied that day had held well. A moment passed, before she looked up at him. "I'm going to remove the ice, snow and frost so I can get a better look, and see exactly how it's healing." He nodded, wincing as the three protective layers were removed with a flick of her wrist. She leaned down to get a better look.

Her long white hair tumbled down her back like freshly woven silk, and he had to resist the urge to run his fingers through it; it glowed in the dim light from the fire, as though it possessed a light all its own. The scent of the sea met his nose; it was faint, but there, along with the smell of fresh rain and ginger and lemon: it was a peculiar mix of scents, as though she had spent her time swimming in the sea and then standing in the rain before bathing in lemon and ginger water... Almost like she's some... strange form of mythical mermaid or siren or something equally tied to the sea.

"It looks better." He winced slightly at her cool, gentle touch. "Certainly doesn't feel as hot as before; it's still slightly warm, but not like it was. I think coating it with frost and snow helped it to heal on its own. It's certainly helped to draw the infection out, better than that poultice did." She laid a fresh layer of frost and snow- not as thick as before, for it was healing nicely- and then added a double layer of ice over it to keep it in place. Once done, she turned to the fabric she'd used- the remnants of her skirt, and held a hand over it. Hans's eyes widened in shock as he watched the water droplets literally lift from the fabric and evaporate into the air, leaving the cloth dry as a bone. Then, she proceeded to wrap it once more around his ribs, gently but firmly holding the ice in place. "There. Another few days, and the infection should be completely gone."

She looked up, meeting his gaze, surprised to find how close their faces were. Their eyes locked on each other, and she felt her breath hitch, her fingers still between the fabric and his chest as she tucked the end into the top. Had his eyes always been that deep shade of emerald? Her heart began to speed up, warm pooling in her belly, and she swallowed thickly, forcing her gaze to move from his; it latched onto his forehead. Right, the gash.

Quickly, she removed her hand from the bandage around his ribs, rising up onto her knees and lifting a hand, gently resting a hand over his forehead and waving the ice, snow and frost away. She'd applied the same treatment to his forehead as his ribs, and was pleased to find that it was near fully healed, and no infection had set in. "You'll have a minor scar." Though that won't take away from your looks, if anything, it will only make you more dashing.

Her eyes widened and she pulled away, sitting back on her heels, gaze meeting his again. Where had that come from? He let his gaze meet hers, though he didn't say anything, giving her time to gather her thoughts. Her blue eyes widened in surprise; something had spooked her, it was evident in her gaze. To make her more comfortable, he lowered his own, trailing it over her body.

The outfit she wore was not the one she'd worn the day she'd torn her skirt; instead, this one was a halter, the pieces of material that went around her throat crisscrossing, the two separate ends moving down to cover her breasts, connecting with the skirt, leaving a small diamond open revealing the patch of skin in between the bottom of her breasts and above her stomach; the skirt fell down in waves around her legging covered thighs, and she wore what appeared to be a cloak, though it was connected to nothing, simply resting against her shoulders. He briefly wondering what the back of the dress looked like, and if she would remove the cloak at some point. She looks like a goddess of ancient Greek myth... Persephone or Artemis, perhaps.

After a moment, he returned his gaze to hers, swallowing thickly. She lowered her own gaze quickly, before reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, a blush beginning to color her cheeks, the warmth in her stomach building, even though there was now a good distance between them. He tried to smile, but found he couldn't take his eyes off her face, watching the blush get darker, until it slowly crept towards her ears. No, she is Aphrodite in the flesh. Not even Aphrodite could blush as she is and look half as lovely.

Taking a deep breath, Elsa rose to her feet, trying hard to get the blush that colored her cheeks to fade, though it was no use. Now standing over him, she had a good view of all of him, laid out before her, and her gaze moved down his body against her will. Blue eyes landed on the splint, and she relaxed slightly. She would ask the Vanja to check his leg, for she did not think she was skilled enough to do so; she would also not have to be so close to him again, and so could perhaps stop the traitorous warmth in her stomach from growing even more. Even bandaged and leg splint, hair long and sideburns unkempt, he is still perhaps the most handsome man you have ever laid eyes on.

Her blush deepened, and she snapped her mouth shut, turning away quickly. "I... I will go fetch Vanja. She... can... she can... leg... she can look at your leg..." Flustered, she darted from the hut, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

What had flustered her so? She had seemed fine earlier, when she was examining the results of her handiwork, talking of fading infections and continued treatment one moment, and the next, she was sitting back, making half-understood statements and blushing the deepest shade of red he'd ever seen on a person with skin as pale as hers. And in between those two events-

She had lifted her head; their faces had become dangerously close to one another- so close, he could feel the soft caress of her breath on his skin. The blue of her eyes had been clear and easy for him to see; had her eyes always been that blue, or was he just now noticing, years after their encounter on the fjord? He'd seen the light flecks of silver in them, as though the ice from her powers had embedded themselves in her eyes permanently, making her one with the element she commanded. They had shone in a way he'd never seen before, sapphires just polished and set among diamonds.

The flap of the hut was lifted, and he looked up to see the healer enter with the chief. A moment passed, as his green eyes searched for her, and Yelena raised an eyebrow, realizing who he was looking for. He tried not to let the realization show on his face; Elsa had not returned.