Rifiuto: Non Miriena

A/N: Hans learns a little bit about the mysterious 'Fifth Spirit' in this chapter- or, well, he tries to, I don't think he necessarily succeeds. And I'm sorry if the romance seems a little fast paced in this; it's supposed to be a slow burn, and Zani's written it as slow as she deems possible for this story. Just been reading it chapter by chapter as I edit it, I can't tell if it's fast paced or slow paced in regards to the romance, so you're all on your own on that front. Sorry.

Written: 2019 - Licia

As Vanja expected, Elsa was not immediately better, no matter how she tried to insist she was. She had suffered a major jolt to her system, been unconscious for a number of days, suffered a fever- albeit a weak one, but still one, was exceedingly weak because of it, and it would take a while for her to get better, to regain her strength. Vanja and Yelena checked on her regularly over the next couple of weeks; Elsa, while not out and out refusing to acknowledge Yelena, didn't necessarily speak to her either- other than a few words here and there. Her fever had broken the morning after she'd awoken, which had been a good sign. Honeymaren and Ryder came to keep her company, and Hans had rarely left her side. Bruni also, spent much of his time with Elsa, curling up on her shoulder or in her hair, keeping close watch on her.

And while Elsa was still bedridden, though regaining her strength, Hans was doing certainly doing better. Though his ribs were still bruised from the Nokk, his leg was healing nicely, and he could spend longer periods of time on it, though he still had to sit when the pain became too much. Vanja determined he would always walk with a slight limp in his step, but it was something he could live with. Slowly, he had begun to help those in the tribe if they needed it- though he was limited in what he could do, both in skill and health- it didn't stop him from helping when they asked.

So it was one evening two weeks after Elsa's fever had broken, when he returned to her hut, carrying two bowls of stew and a cup. Elsa reclined against the stock of furs and blankets, for the Northuldra possessed no pillows, having just endured another of Vanja's examinations; she was getting better, her health was increasing, and the color had returned to her cheeks, but that didn't mean she was allowed to get up and walk around, no matter how she begged.

"A broken bone does not heal in a day's time, Spirit. A broken bone must be rested and elevated and treated with tender care and time. If not, then the first amount of weight put upon it will cause it to snap, and then where would you be?" Elsa had grumbled, insisting she was not a broken bone, but it had done no good. Vanja had simply finished her examination, and sighed. She understood, she really did.

She knew the Arendellian Snow Queen had spent the thirteen years of her young life shut away, unable to go anywhere or do anything for fear of harming others with her magic, and that now being free of the throne, being free to do what she wished and go where she wanted was important to her, and that being forced to stay inside, unable to go anywhere or do anything while she was recovering from that night was grating on her, possibly bringing back painful memories of her years of isolation. But there was nothing she could do. Elsa was not yet strong enough to leave the hut; her body had taken a major hit that night, and she needed time to recover. Though she could make no promises, Vanja had said that if she did as instructed, she might be allowed up by the end of the week.

Elsa had swore and complained to Yggdrasil and back, before ultimately having no choice but agree, a scowl settling on her pretty features.

It was this scowl that greeted Hans when he entered the hut that evening. "Not good news, I take it?"

Her blue gaze shifted to him, and he joined her, holding out the second bowl. "Maybe by the end of the week I will be able to get up and stand." She grumbled, swirling the spoon in the stew but not eating. He nodded, slipping the spoon into his own bowl. Over the course of her recovery, the pair had grown closer; at first, it was gentle touches and an occasional kiss, followed by whispered stories of their childhoods- well, his childhood, for it had taken a while for Elsa to recover her voice- and she was surprised to discover that their childhoods had been similar in some respects.

While Elsa had been loved by her parents but forced into self-isolation, not just because of her powers, but because of Anna- something she couldn't quite explain- Hans, as the youngest of thirteen sons, had only truly had his mother for love and comfort. Despite being doted on by his mother and neglected by his father and tormented by his brothers, Elsa learned that he'd been a sickly boy, often bedridden and forbidden from doing much of anything for much of his childhood. And, that up until he was ten, it was believed that he would never walk.

"Born too soon. My mother... her body couldn't take the pregnancy and... I was born early. They were not even sure I would survive; it would not have surprised me if they hoped I didn't. My mother barely survived, and over the years, she was my sole comfort, my only companion. They did not even think I would ever walk; I proved them wrong. It's why I've been so determined to walk as much as possible, despite my leg, because I never want to feel that helpless, that useless, again."

Elsa had pulled him close that day, resting her forehead to his in comfort.

Now though, the kisses were slightly longer, though not deeper, the touches were warmer, softer, and more frequent, often in quiet moments when they were alone, or when the rest of the camp was asleep. At first, Hans had assumed it was because he was only interested in tasting her, in being able to say that he'd been the one to taste the famous Snow Queen's first kiss, but over time, it became clear that this was more than just bragging rights.

It was something else entirely.

He watched her now, saw her push the bits of meat and vegetable around in the broth, but not eat. "Elsa, you need to eat." She glanced at him. "Don't give me that look. You know you have to eat."

She glowered, lifting the spoon and watching the broth drip back into the bowl. "I'm the Fifth Spirit, I don't need to eat."

His brow furrowed in confusion. Over his time recovering at the camp, he'd been trying to absorb all he could of the Northuldra's culture and history, and while those in the camp- after the initial shock of an outsider being brought to the camp had worn off- were willing to teach and explain, there was one question- or, well, a series of questions all about the same thing, in all honesty- still not answered, no matter how many times he asked. One Yelena had told him the night Elsa awoke from her fever that she would explain another time, but now, seemed to be ignoring.

Why did they call Elsa 'Spirit', like it was some sort of name? What was with all this 'Fifth Spirit' hokum, and what did it have to do with Elsa? And who- or more precisely- what, was this mysterious 'Fifth Spirit' they constantly talked about? And why did they all seem to tie back to the woman before him?

Yelena had refused to say anything, Vanja ignored the questions, Ryder preferred to focus on his reindeer, and Honeymaren... well, she flat out turned hostile whenever he brought it up, insisting that there was no such thing as the Fifth Spirit, that there were only four main elements, and that he had best leave well enough alone unless he wanted to be in a serious world of hurt.

All in all, those were the worse of the responses. The other elders simply kept tight-lipped, the other adults around his age simply shook their heads, and the closest he got to answers from the children when he asked were, "You mean Sister?", "No! He means the Princess!" Eventually, he gave up, instead, deciding it was better to head to the one person he hadn't asked yet.

"Hey, Elsa?"

She looked up at him, a look of absolute disgust on her face; she just wasn't hungry. A moment passed, before he pushed the question aside, and set his own bowl down, moving closer. Her color looks better, but she hasn't eaten today. She can't skip meals, otherwise she'll never get any better. "Come on, Els, you have to eat. You haven't eaten all day."

One slender eyebrow rose as the shortening of her already short name, but she didn't question him. Instead, she returned to swirling the spoon around and lifting it from the bowl, taking mild pleasure at watching the hot broth drip. "Not hungry."

A sigh escaped him, and she looked up. "Please, Elsa? If you don't want all of it, that's fine, half then. But please, eat." He stopped. "For me?" It came almost as an afterthought, and she hesitated, glancing down at the bowl before back at him.

"And what exactly are you going to do if I don't eat?" She was challenging him now, because she was bedridden and restless, and taking her annoyance out on him in the only way she knew how. He was sure he'd probably done something similar when he'd been in her position, and so figured he deserved it as payback.

"I'll tell the healer-"

"Vanja." She ground out, annoyed. He seemed to be deliberately forgetting the woman's name on purpose.

"Right. I'll tell her and she'll have to deal with you." He met her gaze, letting her know he wasn't going to back down. She glanced at the bowl again before speaking.

"And if I do? What are you going to do if I do eat?" It was another challenge, as she lifted her chin, meeting his gaze. He studied her a moment, before leaning over and capturing her mouth in a soft kiss. When he pulled away, he found her blue eyes wide in surprise.

"That." He licked his lips. "Consider that is what I'll do if you eat."

She looked ready to argue the point, but then seemed to change her mind, and dipped her spoon into the broth as he pulled back. Apparently the only way he could get her to cooperate when she wasn't feeling well was to promise her a kiss- something he was happy to oblige. Silence settled between them, only the spoons against the bowls being the only sound to break it on occasion. He watched her over his own meal, noting how her color was looking better, and that the cut beside her temple had heeled completely now. She was certainly looking better, even if she didn't feel better.

When finally she finished the bowl, he took it from her, setting it within his own empty one and setting both aside, before moving to sit beside her, as he often did after supper. She settled back down, head shifting to rest lightly against him, before she looked up. He drug his gaze down to hers. "What is it?"

A moment passed, before her gaze darted from his lips back to his eyes. "Are you forgetting something?"

He paused, thinking. "I don't believe so."

One slender eyebrow rose. "Really? Cause I remember you promising me a kiss if I ate."

"Oh, really?" She nodded once. "Cause I don't remember promising. I remember considering a kiss, but not promising a kiss."

She reached up, fingers grazing against the material of his shirt lightly. "Hans. A consideration is as good as a promise."

"Oh, it is, is it? I don't remember that being a thing-" She let out a breathy little giggle, as he leaned down, closing the gap between them, reaching up to take her hand in his.

Neither noticed the flap of the hut lift, or Honeymaren pause in taking the bowls. A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, relieved to see that the pair were becoming more and more acquainted and comfortable around each other. Yelena would be pleased, to know her sister's daughter was unknowingly playing right into the hands of her Fate. With any luck, when it came time to break the curse, it would not just be their hands and mouths connected, but their very hearts and souls.