Rifiuto: Non Miriena

A/N: The work Elsa reads over in this is Sir Francis Bacon's 'Of Marriage and Single Life', published in 1612.

Written: 2019 - Licia

She awoke the next morning a little past midnight, finding herself curled up in Hans' arms, using his chest as a pillow. With a soft sigh, she slipped out of his embrace, slipping out of the hut on soft feet after grabbing her staff. Years of isolation, coupled with hours of sparring practice with her father had made Elsa something akin to a nightingale- for the majority of her activity was done at night, from her piano practice, her singing and sparring with her father. It had gotten to the point where Elsa's only allowance of freedom was at night, after the rest of the household had gone to bed. If Papa was not up and willing to spar with her, and Mama had not come to oversee her piano lessons- which Iduna had taken over personally not long after the accident- then Elsa took that to mean she was allowed moderately free reign of the castle, and often took to traversing the halls in her nightgown and stockinged feet, similar to how her sister would during the day.

It was one of the reasons Elsa felt so comfortable once darkness fell- as a child, she waited anxiously for night to come; it meant she could do as she pleased- within reason- without fear of harming anyone. On occasion, when Mama came for piano lessons, she often would take Elsa out of her room after an hour or so, and they would race through the halls towards the kitchens in search of chocolate, or out into the courtyards and gardens, where Iduna would show her the evening primrose and gladiolus, teaching her the constellations, and sharing secrets with her. Elsa would be lying if she told herself that being out in the darkness didn't make her feel closer to her mother, even all these years later.

She gently tossed the staff, catching it easily, before releasing a breath. With a glance back at the hut, she made up her mind, trekking silently out of the camp, towards the river. She knew this river eventually led out towards the Dark Sea, and that this was the river stated within the legend that the princess drowned in. But upon careful study, Elsa had been able to discern that the river spoken about in the legend was actually the waters of the Dark Sea- or, the inlet between the river and the Dark Sea. A soft sigh escaped her throat as she stalked through the darkness, carefully picking her way around bushes and trees and being careful of things she could stumble over. Over the last two years, she had been able to figure her way around at night, and it gave her a freedom she hadn't felt in years.

A soft sigh escaped her; she had promised Hans last night that she wouldn't flee, not with their wedding a day away. Yelena had explained that the best time or a marriage- when magic would be at its strongest to bind a couple for all eternity- was at the witching hour, and so she and Hans would marry in a simple ceremony in a day's time. If she were honest, Elsa always dreamed of a simple ceremony had she ever actually married, but being the Crown Princess and later the Queen, she knew such a marriage wouldn't be possible. So in a way, her abdication was able to make at least one small wish come true.

The moonlight glistened off the water, and she knelt down by the banks, letting herself study her reflection upon the water's surface. She felt as though she had aged thirty years in only a few months' time, if the dark circles and worry lines about her eyes were any indication. She knew the majority of it had to do with Ahtohallan- it felt as though the ancient glacier were draining her of her very existence, and more than once, it crossed her mind that maybe death would be a preferable end to the continuous exhaustion she felt.

Fifth Spirit begged Great Mother for a body to make her job easier, for she was so, so very tired. She sighed, leaning against her staff. I know how she felt. Like your existence is being sucked from you. Maybe immortality wouldn't be such a bad thing after all. At least then I could handle everything and not tire, perhaps even enjoy life.

Her gaze returned to her reflection from the ripples around it, and after a moment, she furrowed a brow. For a split second, she felt as though she hadn't been looking at herself, but someone else. Someone she didn't recognize. And then, in the next moment, it was gone. She shook her head, turning away from the river before standing. As of tomorrow at the witching hour, you will be married... and then perhaps you can get back what was stolen.

She furrowed a brow. But... what, exactly had been stolen from her? There was so much happening in such a short amount of time, she had difficulty keeping track. Your soul, that's what you're missing. The rest of your soul- not the sliver still left behind. The rest of it. She sighed, turning back to the water. "Nokk? Nokk!"

After several minutes, the Nokk appeared, bursting out of the water with a soft snort. She smiled softly as the water spirit made its way towards her. With a gentle hand, she reached up, brushing her fingers over its snout. "I'm sorry it's taken me so long. Something's come up. Something important." She sighed, resting her forehead to its snout, and it nickered, nuzzling against her, understanding. After a moment, she mounted, forgetting her staff on the embankment, and took up the reigns she created. "Come on, let's go home."

The Nokk turned at her urging, but stopped. It turned its head, and she sighed, reaching down to stroke its neck. "I know, I know what you're asking. But I can't stay here any longer. I fear I will go stir-crazy if I stay any longer, and I need to do something back at the palace. I need to look something up, and my books are in my library. After tomorrow morning, I will-" She stopped.

She loved her ice palace, her ability to escape if she needed to. She'd put time and effort into the building the small palace on the beach at the back of Ahtohallan, and despite it being carved out into the glacier, it was distinctly hers and hers alone. Her most prized possessions were there, the small life she'd been able to carve out separate from the Northuldra was there- Granted, it wasn't much of a life, but it was hers.

"Please, Nokk. I know you feel it too, just as I do, because we're connected. It's only for tonight. And then... and then I'll figure something out. I promise I will. Now take me home." A moment passed, before the horse did as instructed, dashing across the calm of the Dark Sea, leaving the Northuldra behind. The closer they got to Ahtohallan, the more agitated the Nokk became, for it sensed the change in the river, the vile, malicious desire it held, and reared back. Elsa wrapped her arms around its neck. "Shh... shh, easy... woah, easy!"

It took a few moments, but eventually, Elsa was able to get it to calm down. She could feel the water shifting beneath her hands as it rippled- the water spirit's version of trembling. Slowly, Elsa sat up, but not before, "Take me around to my palace, Nokk." It did as told, stepping onto the back beaches near her palace, and after a moment, she dismounted. With a gentle pat and a nod, she turned, heading into the palace as the Nokk returned to the sea. Once inside, she made her way to the library, reaching for one of the books Victoria had given her. The young queen had slipped a few loose sheets into 'History of Life and Death', with hand-scribed excerpts from one of Bacon's essays that she thought Elsa might find useful.

"Just in case you ever doubt your eventual marriage, and would like a philosopher's viewpoint." Victoria had giggled when she saw Elsa's blush.

She quickly read through the essay, briefly struggling over Victoria's handwriting before getting up, deciding that if she was going to read, she would rather return to her bedroom and stretch out on her bed, where she would be more comfortable while she searched for her answers.

"'... were great reason that those that have children hould have greatest care of future times...'" She sighed. So men who father children will have a greater impact upon the world because of those children. Makes sense, the future is often in the hands of those generations that come after. She slipped out of her shoes and climbed onto the bed, creating a small flurry of snowflakes that danced above her to provide light as she continued to read, propped up on one elbow. "'Unmarried men are best friends... but not always best subjects, for they are light to run away, and almost all fugitives are of that condition.' Well, given that Hans was at one time a fugitive, more or less, thought I'd say he's given up his wanton ways."

She moved onto the next page, gaze filled with mirth as she thought of Hans and the few times he'd joked about running off, something entirely un-doable, seeing as he'd been unable to even stand without support because of his legs. The man had a wicked, wicked sense of humor that would occasionally rub her the wrong way, but she had quickly learned that the best way to temper his humor was to bite back, and some of her responses often left him in stunned silence, a feat she was proud of. "'Chaste women are often proud and forward... best bonds of chastity and obedience in the wife if she think her husband wise... it is often seen that bad husbands have very good wives... that the wives take a pride in their patience.' Huh." She gently tapped the papers against her lips before shifting onto her back and rereading them.

She had been known throughout not just her kingdom but the European world for her chastity and purity, her kindness and bravery, but she had never given much thought to the names attached to her countenance. Chaste? She had been raised in the church, in the belief that that most sacred of carnal desires was to be reserved for the night of her marriage, that anything until then was to be done in secret, and only with her betrothed- touching, kissing, sweet, whispered nothings were only acceptable in the barest of ways, that only her husband was allowed to touch her in that way, look at her in that way, speak to her in that way, among the blankets of their marriage bed-

Shick!

A soft clicking drew her attention in the near silence, and she slowly lowered the papers, not at all surprised to see find her bag with the box sitting where she'd left it on her bed all those weeks ago. After a moment, she returned to her reading, nibbling on her lower lip.

Shick, shick!

Once again, she lowered the papers, gaze going to the bag. After a moment, she set the papers down and sat up, crawling towards her bag. Slowly, she opened it, revealing the box still wrapped in the banner. Silently, she removed it from the bag, gently tugging the banner from the smooth wood, leaving it sitting on the blankets of her bed. A quick, cursory study revealed nothing major, just the tinderbox she'd found at the gypsy camp.

Shick, shick, shick!

With a startled gasp, Elsa stumbled back, watching with wide eyes as the lid rose- enough for someone to slip their fingers in. A moment passed, before Elsa moved closer, and slowly, carefully, slipped her fingers along the edges, so that the meat of her thumbs rested against the space between the wood. Taking a deep, shaky breath, she lifted the lid. If her eyes could have gotten any wider, they would have.

There, seated within the smooth wood, sat a glittering diadem.