Rifiuto: Non Miriena

A/N: Fair warning: Don't want sex, don't read.

Written: 2019 - Licia

Both Kristoff and Elsa had been stunned by the small lake, waterfalls and alcove that Honeymaren, Ryder and Hans had taken them too. Once there, Hans had started a small fire and the five had settled around it, the three listening as Kristoff and Elsa told them what they'd discussed on the North Mountain, and the pair listening as Honeymaren had explained what had transpired after Elsa had left.

To discover that the wine left for their wedding night had been laced... and that Yelena had talked of 'everything falling into place'... it unnerved Elsa to no end. She understood protecting the tribe, but this... offering up her own niece... it shook her to the core.

"I should have had a chance to talk to General Mattias by next week, and I should be able to gather a bit more information on her major patterns and anything else I can think of that might be useful by then." Elsa looked up from her place curled into Hans' side as the ice harvester spoke. Everyone nodded.

"I'll have a better idea of what's going on in regards to who laced the drinks by then too. I don't want to believe it was Vanja, who laced the wine, but she's the healer. When I haven't been learning on my own, I've been learning under her. And she seems to genuinely care about Elsa, about you both."

"So does Yelena." Elsa whispered, as Hans pressed a kiss to her hair, tightening his hold on her hip just slightly.

"I'm no so sure about Yelena." He muttered into her braid. She turned to look up at him.

"Hans, she's part of my family."

A sigh escaped his throat. "Just because you're family, doesn't mean she can't turn on you, Els. You'd be amazed, how quickly blood will turn on blood when they're threatened." He turned away, as Elsa reached up to caress his cheek, knowing he was speaking of his own brothers. Gently, she turned him back to her, and then leaned up, brushing a kiss to his cheek.

They weren't fully on speaking terms again, but they weren't avoiding each other, which was something. Hans kept her close, keeping an arm around her waist and his nose buried in her hair, and Elsa settled close against his chest, content. Neither apologized, but it was evident that there was a hint of an apology lingering in the air, otherwise, they would have sat feet apart and even unwilling to look at each other. When finally everything had been said and some semblance of what they needed to do plotted out, Kristoff stood, Honeymaren and Ryder following; the Northuldra girl had taken the cups and bowls to the hut she shared with Ryder, intending on studying them in the coming days. The trio turned as Hans helped Elsa to her feet after standing.

A moment passed before Kristoff went to the Snow Queen, embracing her in a hug. "You're not doing this alone, Elsa. Don't worry, we'll figure this out. Together." She rested her head on his shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent that was distinctly Kristoff. Two years in the palace hadn't changed him, hadn't stopped him from caring about people, hadn't stopped him from caring about her. She pulled away and he kissed her forehead. "Congratulations." He then turned to Hans. Despite the animosity of several years ago, Kristoff could see that the man really had changed- and that Elsa had been a big part in it. He held out a hand to the former prince. "Congratulations." They shook quickly, Hans whispering his thanks, before Ryder and Honeymaren did the same.

"Remember, it's Northuldra custom for newly married couples to spend their first week of marriage alone together. Do whatever you wish. If you need to come back to the camp, come back to the camp, but personally? I'd recommend taking the week and staying here. At least during the evenings." The pair shared a glance. "I'll let you know if I figure anything else out."

Once they were gone, Hans turned to Elsa. She stood not far from the fire, gaze locked on the smooth water of the lake. A moment passed before he made his way towards her. He reached out, but hesitated. "You can touch me." Slowly, he rested a hand on her shoulder, and she turned.

"I'm sorry I said those things tonight. I just... I felt like we were... it didn't feel right. We stepped into the hut and... and something just felt off. I can't explain it." She reached up, caressing his cheek.

"Honeymaren said the wine was laced, right?" He nodded. "You didn't... drink it, did you?"

"No. I went to and she stopped me. It smelled like wine with the... barest hint of vinegar. Tasted like it too. She had me try it, and..."

She sighed, slowly sliding her arms around his neck. "I guess I should thank you, then. Honeymaren said the moss could incite violence... it's a good thing we started arguing then. I could have gone for the wine if we hadn't." Silence fell, as he slowly slid his hands along her waist. "Do you think we rushed this? The wedding?"

A moment passed, as he gathered his thoughts. "The wedding? Yes. But us? No. Elsa, I love you. I think I loved you for years, just never..." She furrowed a brow. "When I was a child, my father kept mentioning a possible way to expand our family reach. I remember it was a couple years before my mother died, and he said something about... the King and Queen of Arendelle having... two daughters, one of them being close to my age or a couple years younger. He said that if I didn't die on them, then he'd think about writing the King and suggest a betrothal between me and the oldest princess, and that's as far as it went. But I was intrigued. I wanted to know all I could about Arendelle. I'd never heard of it before, so I studied everything I could get my hands on in regards to it."

She absentmindedly began to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. "I found your country fascinating. I determined then and there that I would prove my father wrong, and learn how to walk, so that when I was old enough, I could go to Arendelle, and meet the princess my father said he'd consider betrothing me too. And then, I didn't even have a name, I just knew you were the Crown Princess. I was fascinated with, falling in love with, a nameless princess. And then I saw you at your coronation, and... I went about it all the wrong way. I should have approached you, asked you to dance, instead of Anna." He sighed. "Can you ever forgive me, for what I did? To both of you?"

A sigh softly escaped her, as she thought a moment. "For me, yes. For-" She stopped. "For her, there's nothing to forgive. It's not her, Hans. She's a changeling, remember?" He nodded; it was difficult to remember that the Anna that he'd briefly been engaged to, that he'd left to die in the study, was a troll changeling. It felt very surreal, then again, this whole experience felt... surreal. "Can you forgive me? For tonight? I got angry-"

"It was an argument. I started it. I accept it. I said things I shouldn't have; you had every right to storm out. I was out of line. We didn't turn to violence. We separated and cooled off, and came back to each other. It's the mark of a good relationship, that we didn't turn to violence."

"Kristoff said the same thing when I said that you probably wouldn't want to see me." He reached up, caressing her cheek.

"Elsa, I'll always want to see you. I love you." She smiled softly, breathing it softly in return. She turned her head, nuzzling into his palm, and leaned close, before stopping. "May I kiss you?"

Her sapphire eyes slid to the side, meeting his, and a moment, she nodded. "You may."

This kiss was soft, chaste; a tender apology, despite the fleeing brush of their mouths meeting. Slowly, he pulled away, meeting her gaze. She smiled softly at him, before capturing his mouth in another soft kiss, this one a little longer, a little firmer. Moments passed, before the arm still around her waist shifted; his hand moved in soft lines back and forth along her lower back, just above her hips. He pulled away, meeting her gaze, before stepping back. She let her hands fall back to her sides, and he took one of her hands. "Come on."

"Hans, where are we going?" Though she was hesitant, she still allowed him to tug her gently towards the alcove of trees not far away. "Oh, Hans." The blankets from her hut were laid out in the center of the forested alcove, and a lantern hung from a tree branch, another one sat not far away, and a third was in the far corner, casting the forest room in a soft glow. He removed the staff from her back, leaning it against the far wall, next to the bag with the tinderbox- something had told him to grab the box before he and Honeymaren left to follow Ryder, and now, it sat quietly in the corner. He then worked on removing the bag at her waist, briefly furrowing a brow at the feel of something inside it, but didn't get a chance to question it as Elsa once more spoke up. "You did this, all of this?"

Absentmindedly, he set the small bag within the other one, atop the box, and turned to her. "Honeymaren and Ryder showed me this place. Apparently Honey's been coming to the lake when she needs to get away, and it's just far enough away from the camp we won't rouse suspicion, but close enough we can return if we want during the week."

She turned to him. "Honey?" He blushed and she giggled. "I'm glad you're getting along with them."

He caught her around the waist, pulling her close. "Despite everything going on, it's nice to have a couple of people who don't look at me like the outsider anymore- which I know half the camp still does." Their lips met in a soft kiss, before she pulled away, tugging him towards the blankets, but he stopped.

"What?"

A shake of the head. "Nothing, just... wondering how I managed to get so lucky, as the disgraced prince of the Southern Isles."

"I'm asking myself the same." She whispered, stepping into his arms again. Their noses brushed, gazes locked, as her arms slowly moved up his chest to wrap around his neck. Neither moved for several minutes; they simply stood wrapped in each others' arms, gazes locked, noses brushing gently together. It wasn't that they didn't want to, it was just- "Hans?"

"Hmm?" He nuzzled his nose against her cheek, arms sliding around her waist. "What is it, Els?"

"I-" She accepted the soft kiss he brushed against her mouth, meeting his gaze. "I'm... I know you're... probably way more experienced than me-" Her eyes rolled up as he brushed his lips against her jawline and then down to the point where her shoulder and neck met.

"I'm not."

That sent her eyes shooting open, and she gently pushed him away to meet his gaze. "I'm sorry? I... I don't understand."

He broke contact, pulling away from her completely and taking a seat amongst the parted blankets. After a moment, she joined him as he shrugged. "I'm not more experienced than you, Elsa. I spent my childhood confined to a bed, and at fifteen, joined the royal navy. I had no real interest in women, not like most sailors in the navy. And by then, I'd spent so much time studying Arendelle, that, honestly? All I could think about was the girl my father had said he'd think about setting up a betrothal for. I didn't even know what you looked like, but I found myself wondering what your favorite books were, what hobbies you enjoyed, what your favorite food was, your favorite season."

"You sound like a romantic."

He chuckled, reaching out to take her hand. "My mother made sure to teach all her sons that all the money and titles and land in the world would not a happy marriage make. That they were material things, cold comforts that could be gone with a turn of fortune." He squeezed her hand. "That... the heart of the woman you loved was more precious than gold, that if she was happy, that was all you needed." Gently, he reached up, tucking her wayward bangs back, only to have the stubborn strands return to her forehead, and he chuckled softly.

"Remember, my little darling, jewels and lands and fancy clothes are just material possessions. They will not keep food in your belly or a roof over your head. Were you to marry this princess of the People of the Spring, and were she to lose all her worldly possessions, all her titles and fancy clothes and crown jewels; were she forced to work as a seamstress or a maid while you worked as a tinker or tailor or worked the land- eeking out a minor living- would you love her any less? Were she dressed in secondhand rags, and were you to live in a shack, would you love her any less than were she the princess?"

"I don't even know what she looks like, Mama."

"Humor me, my darling. Were she to become a poor urchin, cast out of her royal palace, but you knew her heart was good and pure, and that she loved you, would it matter where you lived? How she looked? Would you still wish to marry her, build a home with her, make children with her, if she were poor?"

"Yes."

"And why is that, my son?"

"Because I love her. Fancy clothes don't mean anything, Mama. They're nice, but... if she's kind and sweet and pretty and funny, won't she still be those same things without the fancy clothes?"

"Yes, darling, she would be. Clothing doesn't make the person who they are; clothing is simply an accessory. What makes the person is their heart, their very soul. As long as her heart is pure and her soul good, and yours is the same, you will never lack for anything in your marriage. You could live on-"

"'- the barest of scraps, and as long you had each other, you would be richer than the richest kingdoms, because you had love.'"

She reached up, caressing his cheek. "That's beautiful."

"That's my mother. She taught us all that the value of a person lay in their heart, not their material possessions. Unfortunately, my brothers all disregarded her words and teachings, and became... horrible, selfish people. They took and accepted our father's thinking, that wealth could gain you anything- land, riches, power, women." He shook his head. "I think was because she spent every day at my bedside when I was a child that her teachings stuck. And then she died, when I was ten, and..." He sighed, as Elsa shifted closer, reaching up to cradle his face in her hands. Her fingers tangled in his hair, and he slid his arms around her waist slowly.

"You don't have to, love."

He gave her a small smile. "It doesn't hurt, speaking about her. I have long since gotten over her death, and long since accepted that it wasn't my fault, as my father and siblings claimed. It was not my fault she fell pregnant again, not my fault her body could not take another pregnancy, not my fault that she lost the babe- or her life." He admitted with a shaky breath. "But my father blamed me, because I was the youngest."

"Hans."

He nudged his nose against hers, his green eyes closed. He should have stopped speaking, should have simply kissed her, taken her, for it was their wedding night, but he couldn't seem to stop talking. It was cathartic, sitting here in the dimness of the alcove with his bride, talking about his mother; the only one who'd shown him any love in his early, formative years. "She would have liked you, Elsa. You're similar to her, in personality. Same quiet strength, same stubbornness, same elegance. I wish she could have met you."

A small smile tugged at her lips, and she leaned over, brushing a kiss to his lips. "I would have loved to have met her." She kissed him again, their gazes locking as she pulled away, and then returned. This kiss was longer, deeper, and after several minutes, she crawled into his lap, arms going around his neck as his hands found her waist. When finally they pulled away to meet each others' gazes, he couldn't help but see the glimmer in her gaze. He kissed her again, and after several minutes, they shifted, lying side by side atop the blankets.

She slid her hands down his chest as they shared several chaste kisses before he finally spoke. "I love you, Elsa Dahl." She giggled softly; she would never understand why he would shorten her name as he had, but she allowed it, her gaze slowly following the hand the trailed down his chest, over his stomach and towards the hem of his pants. "Elsa?'

Her blue gaze slid back up, and a mischievous grin tugged at her lips. "It's our wedding night, isn't it?" He nodded. "Then touch me the way a husband touches his wife." An eyebrow rose, before he kissed her again.

"You really want to do this? After everything that's gone on?" She nodded. "You're sure? What about... won't we be playing into-"

"Hans." She reached up, taking his face firmly in her hands. "I don't know that the river will know. And I don't care. We've already changed a part of the story by marrying- the prince and princess couldn't do that last time. And we are away from the tribe, it's just us. We're safe. I think the further away from the river we are, the less affected we are." He nodded, having noticed the same. Though the voices were still there, urging them, demanding them, they were softer, almost weaker. Or perhaps that was Hans' perception of the situation. "Please?" She leaned close, her silky lips brushing his ear. "It's our wedding night. I want to experience all the carnal pleasures of the flesh that we are allowed. Please, Christian." Her lips brushed gently against the shell of his ear, and he pulled back, meeting her gaze briefly before his mouth met hers.

For some reason, the way her lips had softly caressed his middle name had set his heart racing. Gently, he brushed his tongue along the seam of her lips, begging entry, and she allowed it, arms sliding around his neck as his went about her waist, pulling her closer. The tunic she wore was soft against his hands, akin to silk, and the black color made her snow white hair, and porcelain skin stand out all the more in the dimness. After several moments, he began trailing kisses down her neck, stopping to gently suck on pulse point of her neck before continuing. He started, as the ice against her skin melted away, a soft puff of steam rising after the warmth of his lips brushed against her ice-covered skin.

Elsa giggled softly, and trailed her hands down, removing the tunic he wore. They took it slow, carefully undressing each other, trailing kisses and touching against exposed skin as they became acquainted with each other beyond sharing kisses. Tonight, would mean they would take their simple caresses and kisses further- for they were joined together in a holy union, forever bound to each other- not by fate or souls- but legally by marriage.

She let out a gasp as the cool air of the evening tickled over her now exposed breasts, for he'd kissed and licked the top of her tunic away. She gasped softly as his mouth gently began to tease the bud of one breast, while his free hand came up and caressed the other, thumb brushing gently over the sensitive bud. One hand reached up to tangle in his hair, while the other moved down his back and along his waist, to tug at his pants. Once he'd gently teased as much as he could, he moved to the other breast, shifting hands to caress the breast he'd just abandoned, thumb continuing to stroke the erect bud.

Once content, he continued kissing his way down her body, lips grazing down her ribs and over the sensitive skin of her belly. The hand that had been in his hair tugged him back up, and he caught her mouth in his, his kisses gentle, tender. Slowly, her hands moved down his back, caressing the freckles that dotted his skin like islands on the ocean, before moving around to trail along his stomach. "Hans." She tugged on the material that separated them and he chuckled softly.

"Someone's eager." She groaned softly, as he ground his hips gently into hers, the material of his pants brushing between her thighs. She narrowed her gaze in annoyance, and he quickly complied, removing them and tossing them to the side. Now clad in only the skin they'd both been born in, it was much easier for them both to enjoy exploring and discovering the little intricacies of the skin- the freckles on his back, the soft curve of her waist, and, Hans discovered, the strange patterns that seemed to swirl lightly beneath her skin; patterns he could not quite make out, for they were difficult to see since she was lying on her back, and only a bit were evident upon her shoulder.

She shivered, the temperature in the alcove dropping further as he trailed his fingers over her hip and long her outer thigh, lips never leaving hers. At first, Hans didn't notice the drop in temperature, but as he proceeded to kiss and mark her delicate skin, it began to hit him. The snow white curls that resided just above her most sacred of areas startled him; he remembered finding an anatomy book in the castle library when he was about twelve and flipping through it. The intricate, detailed drawings had started and intrigued the young prince, and he'd snuck the book back to his room to study the intricate drawings and details. Nowhere in that book had there been mentions of the hair being white.

But then again, this is Elsa.

He glanced up at her, trailing a finger along the inside of her thighs, before moving to gently explore the area between. Carefully, cautiously, he trailed his fingers along the folds between her legs, eliciting a soft moan from her. He shivered as the temperature continued to drop, and, abandoned his exploration to return his mouth to hers. "Charlotte, my love," She met his gaze, her own blue orbs slightly glassy. "how about we raise the temperature."

She furrowed a brow, but didn't speak, so he wasn't entirely sure she heard him. Without a word, slid her hands up his chest, gently brushing her thumbs against the buds of his chest, and he shivered; the temperature rose, until it was back at a manageable level. They took their time, sharing kisses and caresses and whispered words as their hands explored and their arousal became evident. He nudged his nose against hers, stealing a tender kiss. Her hands arms slid around his waist, over the smooth skin of his buttocks. "I want you, Christian." She nudged her nose against his tenderly before trailing a series of kisses over his eyebrows and eyelids, down his cheeks towards his jawline. "I don't know how much more ready I can be." She nodded her head, leaving a series of butterfly kisses against his skin. "Please."

Slowly, he pulled away, meeting her gaze, the words from that book flashing into his mind. Upon penetration, by the male's organ, the barrier between the female's legs shall tear, allowing entry. Ofttimes, it is reported as being painful... "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't hurt me, love." She brushed another butterfly kiss to his cheek before kissing him softly. "You could never hurt me, not that way. That pain comes from love." Her hands reached up to gently caress his face, brushing his bangs away from his forehead, worry in her eyes at the look on his face, as though he'd seen a ghost. "Christian." His gaze met hers. "Hans? Are you okay, darling?" A tiny smile tugged at his lips as he leaned down to kiss her softly.

"I'm okay, just got caught up in a memory." He kissed her again. "You're really sure about this?"

In reply, leaned up, capturing his lips in a deep kiss. Absorbed in the kiss, he settled between her legs, reaching down to gently guide himself into her. She whimpered against the kiss, and he felt the barrier between her legs. "I'm sorry, Charlotte, I'm trying to be gentle-"

She kissed him again, digging her nails into back. When finally she broke the kiss and rested her forehead to his, she was trying to hold back a wince. She had known it might hurt, but was surprised to find that it hadn't hurt as much as she'd thought. "Just keep going Christian." She returned her mouth to his, digging her nails further into his back as he continued to gently push into her. It was awkward, and took a moment for them to both adjust to the feel of being together, but soon, the dull throbbing that had made itself known after he first entered began to disappear, leaving a pleasant ache building in her most sacred of places.

Slowly, they worked to figure out their rhythm, the pace was slow, careful, gentle. They took their time, discovering what each liked and what felt right and what brought pleasure. Eventually, Elsa felt comfortable enough to bend her legs, resting her feet flat on the blankets as her knees hugged his hips. The temperature once more began to drop, but neither noticed nor cared, the building heat caused by the friction of their bodies moving together as one warming them both just enough to keep the cold chill away. She dug her nails into skin, raking them up his back as they continued; so caught up in the movement and pleasure building in her core, Elsa couldn't think to form coherent words, but it needn't have mattered. Her moans and whimpers, soft exclamations and building cries told Hans that what he was doing was correct, and to keep going.

As the pleasure built, she could feel her magic just beneath her skin, writhing, begging to be released. With a breathy gasp, she felt frost begin to form beneath her fingers, and caught the wince on her husband's face from the sudden chill against his skin. "... sorry..." She breathed, and he shook his head, leaning down to kiss her.

"Don't... apologize... love... feels... good..." She giggled softly, something that only served to spur her husband to pick up the pace, and he continued, moaning softly as with each rake of her nails, frost appeared. "Gods... Charlotte..."

The pleasure continued to grow- she wasn't sure if this was a normal reaction to the sensations taking place within her body or just an overactive mind- but either way, she greatly enjoyed the sensation, and closed her eyes to let herself enjoy it, as he mouth found her neck and began to nip and bite. She trailed her hands down his back and over his buttocks, leaving frost in her wake, before raking her nails up the length of his back when he hit a particularly sensitive spot that sent her knees tightening their hold on his hips and her heels to lift. She was getting close, or so she thought. "Christian... Oh..."

He continued to push into her, feeling himself reaching that point, but he'd make sure her pleasure was achieved first. It was only right, that this gorgeous woman beneath him, who had begrudgingly accepted him into her life, and willingly into her body, who made his heart stall with her smile and his brain shut down with her kiss, who had walked away from her crown and her kingdom, experience such pleasure first. It was his duty as her husband to make sure her needs were met before his. For what kind of man would he be if he didn't?

It was like a tidal wave crashing upon Arendelle's fjord, the birth of a thousand universes in one moment; her eyes burst open and she met his gaze, as her walls clenched tight around him and her toes curled, her knees tightening painfully against his hips, a scream of complete pleasure escaping her, his name among the cry, so unlike the breathy, soft moans and cries that had escaped her in the middle of the act. The sight of her beautiful, crushed sapphire gaze overflowing with pleasure helped to send him over the edge and he soon followed her, eyes locked on hers, her name on his lips as he too reached that point, releasing all he could inside of her with a final, hard thrust, and soon, he felt her hands on his face, her small, slender fingers brushing his bangs from his forehead and trailing over his features- grazing over his eyelids and lashes, along his cheeks, down the bridge of his nose, to stroke his lips.

He could feel the frost being left in the wake of her fingers, and, breathing heavy, he leaned down, taking her mouth hungrily with his, the frost of of her magic melting from their kiss as he drank greedily from her before finally pulling away and meeting her gaze, propping himself on his elbows to keep from putting all his weight upon her small, fragile body. She nuzzled softly against his cheek, contentment in her actions, as he slowly, carefully settled his weight upon her, burying his face in her neck, his arms going around her head. She reached up, tangling their fingers together, and sighed, content. Still nestled comfortably within her, they spent the next few moments allowing their bodies to get back under control, as the temperature in the alcove rose back to normal, and Elsa turned her head, brushing a kiss to his hair.

When finally they parted and he slowly, gently pulled out of her- eliciting a hiss from both, one of minor pain from her and sympathy from him- and settled down among the blankets, was when Hans noticed the marks marring her beautiful skin. His whispered apologies were accompanied by soft kisses to each, before he finally settled onto his side, taking her hand. "Are you okay?" She nodded. "I didn't mean to be so rough-"

"You weren't rough." She whispered, stroking the inside of his palm with her thumb.

"I didn't mean to hurt you. I tried to be gentle."

She reached up, thumbing his bottom lip. "It hurt at first, but afterwards... I found it to be quite pleasurable." She bit her lip and shifted onto her side, lips brushing his ear. "Especially when-"

"Elsa!" His blush made her giggle; it was surprising, the more time she spent with him, the more and more she discovered that her new husband was more gentleman than rogue. She lay back down, reaching up to caress his cheek. He turned, brushing kisses to her fingertips. "You're pleased, though?"

She shifted so that she mirrored him, propping her head on her elbow. "Pleased, content, all-together sated. You?"

He leaned over, capturing her mouth in a soft kiss. "Very, darling." As they settled back down, Elsa tucking herself against his chest, cheek rested against his heart, he sighed, speaking the question that had been on his mind from the start. "Why my middle name?"

She shrugged. "You are 'Hans' to everyone, and 'Johannes' is just... to formal, and I guess... I just... wanted a name of yours that is mine. Something only I can call you." She pressed cool lips to his chest, trailing a finger along his cooling skin, leaving a trail of frost in her wake, and he shivered slightly at her touch. "Something I can scream in the heat of passion, when our bodies are sliding together and sweat soaks our skin, when we've reached that point of no return, and we have no choice but to search for release in each other's eyes." She lifted her head, meeting his gaze, a wiry smile on her lips. "Something only you will know."

Their lips met in a soft kiss. "Why 'Charlotte?'" She breathed, and he reached up, holding her head in his hands, meeting her gaze. "You already call me 'Els' and 'Elsa dahl,' which I still don't know why," She giggled. "but why 'Charlotte', too?"

He searched her gaze, his breath coming in soft, heated puffs as he nuzzled against her cheek. "Because of all your names, it's the most beautiful in my opinion. And when it's just us, when I'm nestled tightly inside you, and you're fingers are scraping up my back, when you're trailing frost over my skin, I want it to be just us. Something that only I can say in the heat of the moment. Something special, between us."

She 'hmmed' softly in response, reaching up to caress his cheek before she lay back down, stretching languidly before settling down among the blankets. He couldn't help letting his gaze rove over her, drinking in the content smile on her face, the bites and bruises from their lovemaking that marred her pale skin, the way bits of hair had come out of the intricate wedding braid she wore and clung to her face. And, just at curve of her right shoulder, was something he could barely make out. He reached out, gently trailing his finger along her collarbones and towards her shoulder-

"Regardless of whether we had to marry so quickly to slow the curse down," He tugged his gaze from her shoulder, meeting her blue eyes. Humming softly, he trailed his hand away from her shoulder and down her side, sliding it over her stomach to caress her hip, pulling her closer. "I would have married you anyway." He chuckled softly at her jumbled words, the exhaustion from the last twenty-four hours finally catching up to her. "Kristoff called it a marriage of convenience, but I think it's so much more."

"Hmm? How so, Charlotte, love?" He breathed, settling closer, his hand trailing down the curve of her hip and pulling her closer, until she lay cuddled into his chest. A soft yawn escaped her as she snuggled into his embrace, head nestled beneath his chin.

"We... started as a... convenience... and now... love match..." The majority of her words were swallowed in her yawn, but he got the gist. "I... love... Christian."

A soft chuckle escaped him, and he tugged the blankets around them, breathing in the scent of her hair as he thought back to that long ago conversation with his mother.

"If I marry her, Mama, will we have to do what Stefan and Helene did?"

"Yes, you will be required to consummate your marriage, so that it will be known that you can produce heirs for the kingdom."

"If we marry, will it hurt?"

"It will not hurt you, but it may hurt her. There is a special band that is between her legs; it guards a woman's most sacred of places. It is a place only a husband is allowed to go."

"I don't want to! I don't want to hurt her, Mama."

"Shh, hush, my darling, it will not happen until you are both ready, when you are much older, if your father even bothers to write the King and Queen about a betrothal. I think it would be good for you both, to be betrothed. It would give you a chance to get to know each other, to write letters and learn about each other, and when you are old enough, you could meet in person before you marry, and get to know each other. I feel you would grow to love each other, and perhaps, one day, it could turn into a love match."

"What's a love match, Mama?"

"A marriage built purely on affection and love between two people. A love match makes the pain of consummating a marriage that much sweeter, because the pain caused the first time comes from love, not duty."

"Are you and Papa a love match, Mama?"

"We were once, my darling. Once upon a time, we were."

He swallowed softly as the memory faded.

A love match.

His mother had died in childbirth with her fourteenth child, believing that the marriage she had entered into as a young girl of twelve- and her husband thirteen, for Southern Isles custom dictated the Crown Prince marry before his fourteenth birthday, to secure the line- had ended as a mere marriage of convenience. But what Dorothea Elise Marie, formerly of the House of Andreasen, married into the House of Westergård, and crowned Queen of the Southern Isles at the tender age of sixteen, hadn't known, was that long after she was cold in her grave, her husband would refuse to ever take another wife again, as was common tradition in the Isles.

Hans, from age ten on, had watched his father, the great Benjamin Westergård, mighty King of the Southern Isles, retreat into himself, becoming a mere shell, grieving forever for the woman he had loved from the tender age of four, when they'd met as children. His health had slowly deteriorated over the years, until he walked with a cane, suffered a humped back- the servants often whispered it was due to the weight of his grief- and had turned cold, unfeeling and neglectful towards his children, not that Hans had ever felt an ounce of love from the man anyway.

"It could turn into a love match."

He didn't put much stock in predictions of the future, but perhaps his beloved mother had been right. As he glanced down at the woman curled into his arms, he couldn't help admitting that his mother had been right after all. It wasn't just a marriage of convenience, it wasn't just to fulfill the prophecy and break the curse of Ahtohallan; this was so much more. he was content around Elsa, happy, even. She brought a light and a warmth to his once cold existence that he never thought he needed- until he realized he did. The night she'd fallen from the Nokk, when he'd seen her lying there, crumpled on the ground, bleeding from a cut to the temple, had been the night he'd realized he couldn't imagine her not being in his life. And it wasn't just because of the prophecy or Fate or destiny.

She was his and he was hers. Their hearts belong to each other, regardless of the curse. No matter how long they had together, whether they had children or not, whether they lived to old age or died young, he promised her that he would make every moment count. "We'll break this curse, Charlotte, I promise you. I'll do everything I can to help you break this curse." He pressed a firm kiss to her head. "I love you."