Rifiuto: Non Miriena
A/N: Okay, I guess it's going to be long. Hope you're all ready for a long read. And did someone ask for more tenderness?
Written: 2019 - Licia
As she'd been examining the cut on Elsa's forehead, the young woman quickly sat up despite the pain in her body, the feeling of nausea overtaking her, thanks to Vanja's gentle pressure on her temple. Despite the waves, she pushed the blankets away and struggled to get to her feet, even as Yelena, Vanja and Hans moved to stop her. Shakily, she stood, hunched over, one arm going around her midsection as she slowly began to sway. She looked slightly green, and after a moment, took a step-
Weak from not having moved for the last eight days, her body couldn't hold her, and so her knees gave out. She stumbled, hearing both Vanja and Yelena cry out, seeing them reach for her out of the corner of her eyes; she sprawled in Hans's lap. He caught her as best he could, hands reaching up to steady her and slow her descent. "Elsa?" She looked up at him, opening her mouth slightly to speak, before she quickly clamped a hand over it, struggling to fight the bile that rose in her throat. "I think she's going to be sick."
Thinking quickly, Vanja emptied the deep wooden bowl she'd brought with her supplies, shoving it underneath Elsa's chin just as the young woman turned an even sicker shade of green and lost it. The sound of her retching caused them all to flinch; Hans, who was used to the stench of sick from his minor time at sea, didn't react as he reached up and tenderly pulled her hair back. Vanja sighed, glancing from Elsa to Yelena and back. "I forgot. Never smooth a knot upon the head until after there is something substantial within their stomach, to soothe their constitution and prevent-"
Hans snorted softly as she nodded towards the retching young woman in his lap. When it seemed that Elsa had finished- having nothing in her stomach meant Vanja had only succeeded in forcing her to vomit straight bile- the healer took the bowl and ducked out of the hut, tossing the contents and quickly cleaning it before returning. Yelena watched as Elsa seemed to wilt into Hans's lap; she looked exhausted, the strain of Vanja's examination- for the woman wasn't exactly known for her gentle manner at the best of times- the undernourished state of her body and its current retching, and the slight fever she had suffered from for six straight days had taken its toll on the young woman. She all but folded into the former prince's arms, her head finding purchase on his shoulder, and gently, he reached up, brushing the back of his fingers to her forehead and cheeks as her eyes wavered between opened and closed.
"She feels warm... and... cold at the same time..." He turned to Yelena, who knelt beside him and reached out, brushing her fingers to her niece's cheeks. Elsa, too out of it thanks to exhaustion and her inactivity, didn't protest Yelena's gentle touch, as she would have had she been feeling well. Instead, her blue eyes looked up at the chief, unseeing despite their stare.
"She possesses a touch of fever." She moved her hand from the woman's forehead to to her cheeks, before moving down to her neck. Hans held her close, watching the older woman work; he opened his mouth to protest as her hand moved down and slipped beneath the neck of her tunic, just above the space between her breasts. "The rest of her body is as warm as her head. It is not a raging fever that claims her, merely a light one. Poultices on her neck and chest should draw it out in hours." She stopped, noting the cold he mentioned. "We have discovered that her skin is always cool; her body is perhaps two or three degrees cooler than normal. It is most likely due to her powers; they keep her body perpetually cool, but never cold." She held out her arms; in a matter of minutes, the two had the young woman tucked back within the blankets.
Elsa groaned softly, shifting her head, pain and discomfort flitting across her face. Gently, Yelena reached out, stroking her fingers through her hair as Vanja returned, having hurried back to her hut to fetch a poultice she had done that morning, and a cloth hold it in place. "It is one of the characteristics of the spirits- those that manifest themselves in the forms of living beings, that is- that their bodies are always slightly cooler than ours."
Hans furrowed a brow. "Spirits? Manifest as living... what-"
"Hans." He turned as Vanja spoke. "I'm sorry, but I need you to turn your head, because I need to remove her tunic if I am to apply this poultice to draw out the last of the fever." He nodded, quickly shifting so he couldn't see Yelena and Vanja removing Elsa's tunic. He heard the rustle of fabric, however, or what he thought was fabric, and then heard something being applied, and wrapped. Another rustle of clothing, and then Vanja's response that he could turn back around.
Elsa lay where she had been placed, still in the tunic she had worn, but beneath it, he could see cloth peaking out from the neck of the garment. "I thought it best to leave her in what she's worn; it's not like our clothing, which is slightly heavier, and therefore it won't put as much pressure on her body, and will give her body a chance to help breathe and fight the last of the fever. Once her fever has fully broken, we can change her into something else, but I don't want to do too much. Her body is already strained as is." He watched as Vanja gently stroked Elsa's cheek. The young woman shifted, her tired eyes unfocused as she glanced from Hans to Yelena and back.
"Mama... Papa..."
Without a word, Vanja dabbed Elsa's lips with an oil of some kind; fresh lavender oil, from the scent, used to bring about restful sleep, reduce stress, and relieve head pain, she had explained to Hans when he'd first watched her apply it to Elsa's lips days earlier. By placing it upon her lips, she would be able to breathe it in. Her blue eyes darted to Yelena, even as she tried to fight it. "Shh. You need to rest, Spirit. You are out of immediate danger, but not fully. You must sleep. You need to heal."
She gently stroked Elsa's hair, having dabbed a bit of oil to the woman's forehead. She continued to dab the oil to Elsa's lips, even as the woman continued to speak, her words coming in breathy, exhausted, drawn out jumbles. "Papa... come... me... let me..." The three shared a glance, not sure how to react, even as Elsa continued to fight her exhaustion. "Anna... made... trolls... change... ling..." She shifted, feeling her head begin to loll to the side. "Me... want... why me... Mama..."
"Let yourself rest, Spirit. Please. You must allow yourself to heal."
Again, Elsa felt her head loll to the side, and for a moment it seemed Vanja had her work cut out for her, before Elsa gasped softly, turning back to them. Hans watched her, seeing the exhaustion that had taken control of her eyes. "Stop... curse... promise... box..." Hans felt his heart skip a beat, though he wasn't sure why. "Yel...ena... aunt... no... trayal... wait... found... lost... free... take me... with... you..." Eventually, her eyes began to close as her body gave in, the last couple words slipping from between her lips like the softest of prayers; it startled Yelena, even more than hearing what she could only assume was her own name from Elsa's lips, before she finally succumbed sleep. "Iduna... Mama..."
Once the young woman was now sleeping peacefully, Vanja removed herself, gathering her things. "She should sleep through the night. With any luck, her fever will finally break something in the next few hours. I don't understand why she resisted so to sleep. It will help her heal." She sighed. "I've done all I can for her, for now. If anything more happens tonight, let me know, otherwise, I will be back to check her in the morning."
Hans and Yelena nodded. The chief wasn't going to pretend that hearing her little sister's name escape her niece's lips in an exhaustion, fever-filled haze didn't upset her, but she certainly as hell wasn't going to let Hans see that it did. Taking a deep breath, she moved to stand, when she realized he was still watching her. "You heard Vanja, there is nothing more to be done for her now. Sleep has claimed her, and we shall see how she does in the morning."
He nodded, not taking his eyes off Elsa. "I'll stay with her, like I've done the last few nights, if that's okay. I'll watch over her, I promise." The chief turned back to the young man. She studied him for several minutes, before nodding.
"You may. Seems only right, since up until a week ago, you were forced to stay in this same hut for similar reason." He blushed. "Goodnight." He nodded once to her, and she turned to leave, before his voice caused her to pause.
"Yelena?" She stopped, turning back to him, waiting. He bit his lip, before finally speaking. "Everyone keeps calling her 'Spirit', but... why?"
The older woman softened at the confusion in his green gaze. "A story for another day, but not now. You need your rest as much as she does."
And then she was gone. With a sigh, Hans moved to sit next to Elsa. She looked so pale, so... young in the glow of the firelight. Her hair lay tumbled over her shoulders, like rivers of snow turned into silk, and she had lost the green tinge to her skin once she'd expelled the bile from her system. From outside the hut, he could hear the distant sound of voices, of footsteps, and the light scent of smoke and broth that hung in the air.
Right, supper.
He'd helped Honeymaren, Ryder, Yelena and Vanja care for her for the last week or so, dipping cloths in warm broth and gently dripping it against her lips so she would gain some nourishment in her unconscious state. Vanja had shooed he and Ryder from the hut that night after she'd been brought inside, for once it was discovered she was still alive- though clearly unconscious- the healer's next course of action was to strip the young woman of her clothing and wash her skin, for she could sense fever beginning to set in. It was common knowledge among the Northuldra, that the healers of the tribe were gifted with the ability to sense rising temperatures in their patients.
At first, Vanja had felt nothing, but once Elsa was bare of all clothing, Vanja proceeded to run her hands over the young woman's smooth skin, checking for breaks, bruises and internal bleeding, and it was then that she discovered the heat radiating from the Snow Queen's skin. And then the snow had begun to fall.
Apparently, whenever Elsa got sick at all, in any way, shape or form, her magic reacted in strange ways; with colds, she produced little snowmen called Snowgies with each sneeze- though he'd never seen it, he could only imagine how cute Elsa's little snowmen would be with each sneeze. He shook his head, trying to remember what else Vanja had told him when he'd asked- with headaches, Vanja noted once, when Elsa had refused to complain or even admit to suffering a headache, it was thick, jutting permafrost that coated everything in its path, and not always were her headaches brought by attempts to gain more knowledge- which the Northuldra had noticed was normal for Elsa; a sore throat conjured snow crystal clusters, and a cough small blizzards that often went nowhere and got no bigger than the palm of Elsa's hand. But this... this, knocking herself unconscious...
The first sight of snowflakes had confused him, and then, as it continued, began to concern him, and he'd stumbled back into the hut, to find Elsa wrapped loosely in a light blanket; Vanja had asked Honeymaren to wash Elsa's tunic and leggings, knowing the young woman would be more comfortable in them than anything else, and the girl had slipped out, doing as asked. The healer had simply nodded when he had told her of snow falling outside.
He reached up, gently working his thumb over her eyebrows in attempt to soothe her; they creased at the light pressure he was applying, revealing the small crease between them, and he chuckled softly to himself, even as she shifted her head in attempt to move away from his touch in her sleep. Snowgies, permafrost, snow crystal clusters, mini blizzards... You will never cease to amaze me, Elsa of Arendelle.
"Hans?" He turned, to find Honeymaren standing in the doorway, two bowls of stew in her hands. "When she wakes up, make sure she eats." He nodded as she handed him the bowl, which he set aside. "And I... kind of figured you'd probably rather stay here with her, instead of joining everyone." With a soft smile, he took the second bowl, and she nodded. "There's no vegetables or meat in hers; Vanja wants to make sure she can hold down broth before anything else."
"Thank you, Honeymaren. I'll make sure she eats it all when she wakes up." With a soft nod and a quick smile, the girl was gone. After several minutes, Hans dug into his own meal; he'd learned that one of the best remedies for regaining health was warm food and thin broths. By the time he'd finished his own meal, Elsa was starting to stir, the lavender oil was wearing off; though she'd said Elsa would sleep through the night, Vanja hadn't used as much oil as she said she'd had, for one very specific reason- she wanted Elsa to eat, but only after she'd rested some, and going another night without something in her stomach was not an option. It would only hinder her progress.
And so Elsa's eyes slowly fluttered open two and a half hours later; the pounding in her head began to make itself known, and she groaned softly, her head slowly lolling to the other side. Someone was seated next to her, and her blue gaze moved up, drinking in the person's profile. "... ans..."
He turned, a smile tugging at his lips. "You finally wake, Sleeping Beauty?"
She whimpered softly at his attempt at humor, shutting her eyes briefly. "How... long..." Gods, her throat was dry.
"Two and a half hours, and it's a good thing you woke up, because Honeymaren stopped by with supper." He moved, lifting the bowl from where it rested on within the cast iron holder over the fire; he'd set it there to keep it warm for when she did awake. "Can you sit up for me?" He quickly set the bowl and spoon down and then helped her until she was reclining up slightly. "There." He picked up the bowl, dipping the spoon into it. "It's just broth, anything else would be too rich, and the healer-"
"Vanja." Elsa breathed, voice croaking.
He blushed sheepishly. "Right. She wanted to make sure you can handle broth before trying anything else." He watched Elsa rolled her eyes and then wince. After lifting the spoon from the broth, he blew gently on it, before holding it out. Elsa raised one tired eyebrow, which he mirrored. "You can't feed yourself, Elsa. You're not strong enough. Please?" With an internal sigh, she opened her mouth, relenting. The liquid was warm as it slid down her throat, and glanced up at him, but didn't protest when he gently scraped the bottom of the spoon against the edge to remove any excess and then lifted it once more to her lips.
She swallowed, blue eyes darting to his as he filled the spoon again, scraping it gently against the bowl. Silence settled around them, with only the sound of the spoon scraping gently against the bowl, the crackling of the fire, and their breathing. He was tender with her, giving her time to clear her head when her eyes snapped shut and she winced, stopping and returning the spoon to the bowl when she refused to open her mouth and instead thinned her lips, decreasing the amount he gave her when she turned away, for some of it was too much.
His green eyes never left her face; he drank in all he could see of her, noting the small differences in her color, the fading waxiness of her skin, the dull sheen of her hair that had gone unwashed in the last two days, how it tumbled down her back and shoulders, curling about her face, looking less like freshly fallen snow and more akin to slush, for sickness didn't do Elsa good; with ill health, it was discovered, her appearance was more affected, depending on how sickly she became. A simple cold or headache did not change her much, but a sickness- for though she was a spirit, Elsa still got sick- which was just one more confounding piece to her own death theory, for she still had yet to figure out if she had actually died in Ahtohallan that day, if she had come out a 'half-ling', as she called it; something half dead and half alive, or, if she had not died at all- or something such as this affected her appearance more more rapidly. For the briefest of moments, in the firelight, Hans could have sworn her hair looked... dark brown?
Her voice jolted him out of his study. "Sorry?"
"What... are you... looking at..." Her voice was still raw, still cracked and croaked from lack of use for the last eight days, and it would take time before it was back up to normal. He blushed, but she said nothing else, just kept quiet, waiting.
"Nothing, just... glad you're okay." Her brows quirked, and he lifted the spoon again, holding it out to her. "Now, drink up all this good broth," Her gaze never left his; not a hint of movement came from her mouth, not even the faintest shift of her jaw. He raised an eyebrow, pulling the spoon back from her lips, waiting for her to react, before shrugging. "Okay. But you're going to have to explain why it's not finished. I was under direct orders to make sure you eat all of it. It won't be my fault if you receive a tongue lashing for refusing." He moved to set the bowl and spoon down, seeing Elsa consider his words out of the corner of his eye. A moment passed, before she slowly opened her mouth.
Smiling softly at her, he dipped the spoon back into the bowl, scraping it gently against the side before feeding her. Eventually, the bowl became empty, and he set it aside, reaching up to brush his knuckles against her cheek. Neither noticed the flap lift slightly, or a hand reach in and take the bowl, nor did they notice as Vanja, Yelena and Honeymaren watched them; the edge of the flap pulled back so they could peek in, for they had come to check on the pair after supper, only to stop at the sight of Hans brushing a soft kiss to Elsa's forehead.
Vanja and Honeymaren glanced at Yelena; the younger girl bit her lip as she clutched the bowls. "They're... getting close to each other... is that supposed to happen, Mother?" Yelena glanced at the girl, the girl who was the same age as Iduna's daughter. It was rare for Honeymaren to acknowledge Yelena as her mother, for she had been born after the mist fell, had grown up in a time knowing that familial connections had to be both strong and weak, for they never knew when the spirits would once more turn on them. "What do we do? How do we stop it?"
Yelena sighed, watching as Hans gently helped Elsa lay back down, and then settled beside her; he began to stroke his thumb over her eyebrows, and eventually the motion put Elsa to sleep. "The Fates designated this is to happen."
"The Fates?" She nodded. "But-"
"We do nothing; we let them get close, we let their bond grow, let them fall in love. If the curse of the tinderbox is not broken, she will never be free. She will be chained to the river forever, and he will never be able to reach her."
Honeymaren's brow furrowed. "But... it's a story, a... a fairy tale-"
Yelena met her daughter's gaze. "No, Honey, it's not. The tinderbox is very, very real, and if she doesn't find it and break the curse, Iduna's daughter will die."