Rifiuto: Non Miriena

A/N: Written: 2019 - Licia

"Hans?"

He looked up from the piece of wood he was working on. Elsa sat in the middle of their bed, her belly full and round before her, completely nude except for the blanket about her waist. She had gotten to warm and banished the ice nightgown she wore, attempting to lower her temperature with just her magic, not to mention that the nightgown was only making her uncomfortable.

He quickly let his gaze rove over his wife, noticing the increase in her breasts, spotting the stretch marks that danced across her growing belly, drinking in the faint line that led from her popped navel down. It was now plainly obvious to him that his wife was further along in her pregnancy than everyone thought, but Elsa refused to hear it. She was thirty-two weeks, and she wasn't budging on that fact, even though Vanja had even admitted she could have been wrong in diagnosing Elsa's conception date. Regardless, Elsa's baby would be born in summer, but whether it would come in mid-summer or late summer was anyone's guess.

"What is it, Elsa Dahl?" He set his work aside, joining her. "Is everything okay?" She nodded, reaching up and rubbing the back of her neck with a sigh. "What is it, love? Whatever's on your mind, you know you can tell me. I won't judge."

She met his gaze, worry in her eyes. "You... you aren't... regretting us, are you?"

He furrowed a brow. "I don't-"

"I mean," She swallowed thickly. "You don't... resent me or the baby, do you?"

And then it all made sense, the fear in her eyes. He took her face in his hands. "Oh, Elsa Dahl, no! I could never resent either of you! I love you, both of you." He reached down, laying a hand upon her belly. The baby shifted in response to his touch, and Elsa winced. "Charlotte, where is this coming from?" She shrugged, lowering her head, tears coming to her eyes. "Just those hormones making their appearance again?" She nodded, her long white hair tumbling over her shoulders and obscuring her growing breasts. She had discovered at the beginning of the weak that her breasts were starting to leak, and had begged for Vanja in a panic. The healer had calmed her down, insisting that it was normal this far in pregnancy and that she wasn't to worry. He pulled her close. "You don't have to worry, Charlotte, I love you, and I love our baby, and I am so honored to be going through this experience with you." Gently, he lifted her head, and kissed her softly.

He pulled away with another soft kiss and returned to his work. Elsa watched him, her gaze going to her staff in the corner. Two days after confronting Yelena about her missing staff, she'd returned to their hut to find it leaning against the far wall. She'd examined it, but it hadn't been touched in any way that she would expect. Even so, Elsa had left it alone for the next couple of days, but now that she was getting closer to the end of her pregnancy, her duties as the Fifth Spirit were cut short.

Vanja had told her she wasn't to strain herself, and that meant no more treks through the forest on morning rounds, no trips out to the North Mountain, no going to Ahtohallan- though she needn't have worried, as Elsa had no present desire to set foot in the ancient glacier for the foreseeable future. Vanja and Honeymaren kept constant, quiet watch over her; the healer's visits had become regular once she reached twenty-seven weeks, and Honeymaren often came with her.

Which is why it didn't surprise either of them when the flap of their hunt lifted and Honeymaren poked her head in. "Everyone decent?" She grinned, and Elsa groaned in annoyance as Hans snorted softly. "Oh don't make that face, Elsa, it can't be that bad." She stepped inside, allowing Vanja to enter behind her, and Hans spoke up, setting his work once more aside and joining his wife.

"She groans at the drop of a pin, now, Honey. I'm hoping it's normal and that all pregnant women at thirty-four weeks are the same." Elsa lashed out, hitting him in the face with a snowball.

"I'm uncomfortable. This... baby had taken over my entire body! And I am not thirty-four weeks, Johannes Christian. You know that!" He wiped the snow away, and wrinkled his nose. "You try... living with this... this giant balloon preceding you in everything. She's pushing on my bladder, pushing on my kidneys, pushing on my ribs, my skin is so stretched it hurts and my uterus feels huge; I feel as though I've got a rock for a uterus, it's so hard. Add in the pains-"

Hans' head snapped up. "Pains? Pains where, Elisabeth?"

She sighed, gesturing to her belly. "They don't hurt that much, and they're not that frequent. Don't worry, it's not labor, trust me."

Vanja knelt beside the couple. "They're practice pains."

"So... her body is practicing for the real thing." Honeymaren concluded, and Vanja nodded, as Elsa settled back against her husband, allowing the healer to measure her. It was one thing that Vanja had always been stumped over; Elsa had said something about feeling movement at seventeen weeks, which couldn't be possible, but she didn't dispute the mother-to-be. She had also noticed that Elsa always measured bigger than she should, but one reason could be because this was her first pregnancy and she was fairly tall, so the weight she had gained spread out everywhere.

"Exactly." Vanja replied, pressing gently on Elsa's belly. The younger woman winced slightly, and everyone watched as her belly tightened briefly before relaxing. Elsa groaned, shifting position with a sigh once she'd settled.

"I... don't know whether to be amazed or disturbed." Honeymaren muttered, and Vanja chuckled.

"You can be both. It is both an amazing and a disturbing process, the creation of another human being."

"I just want it to be over so I can hold her." Elsa replied; everyone heard the unspoken elephant, but no one said anything. Gently, Hans ran a hand through her hair with a kiss. "Have we gotten any further on... anything?"

"Ryder's come up with a plan."

"A plan?" Hans raised an eyebrow.

"If Elsa goes into labor, how we're going to get her to the river."

"No." His voice was firm, and Elsa sighed, reaching up to caress his cheek. "No, Honey. I don't want to hear it."

"Johannes."

He took her hand. "No, Elisabeth! You're not going to the river, you're going to have her right here, in our hut, with just us and Vanja and Honeymaren. You're not going to the river." She looked up at him, seeing the fear in his eyes.

"Johannes." He shook his head, knowing what she was doing- using his given name to get him to see reason, for she didn't have the energy anymore to argue. He rested his forehead to hers.

"No, Elisabeth. You're not going to the river. I won't let you. I won't let it take you." Tears pricked behind his eyes, and he took a deep breath. Vanja and Honeymaren watched, silent; they knew that even though Elsa had seemed to accept her fate long ago, her husband had not, and would not. Then again, it had taken him much longer to accept not just the prophecy, but that he and Elsa were destined to be together. While Elsa was the scholar, the philosopher, Hans was the scientist, the mathematician.

She turned to the written word, those of Aristotle and Plato, for her answers, and drew her understanding from there, as her father had taught her. While he, the sickly, disgraced former prince of the Southern Isles, had turned to men like Isaac Newton for his studies, his understandings, and yet, there was a hint of the poet and artist in her beloved husband. They were of not just two very different royal courts, but two very different minds, and yet, they seemed to work well together.

"It's merely a plan, that does not mean we have to implement it when the time comes." But he ignored Honeymaren, as Elsa reached up, stroking his cheek.

"It's okay, Christian. It's okay, my love. It's just a plan, and plans can change. Plans do change. Hush, darling." Minutes passed, before finally Hans was able to calm down, apologizing profusely for his outburst, but both women simply smiled at him. They understood, they really did. The very real possibility that Elsa could give the river what it wanted hung in the air; it saturated the tribe, though no one spoke of it. And as Elsa got closer and closer to her due date, the tension thickened.

Once Vanja finished her examination, she stood. "Take the next several weeks to rest, Elsa. You cannot do as much as you could before, your body won't allow it. You need rest and get ready for the birth. You are only-" She stopped, biting her lip. She is much bigger than thirty-two weeks. Yes, I believe I may have been wrong in my diagnosis of her conception. Thirty-four? Possibly. Maybe even thirty-five. She smiled at them. "Your baby will be here before you know it."

With a smile and a nod, Honeymaren followed Vanja, grabbing the healer's arm before they parted ways. "Vanja?" She tugged the older woman into the shadows. "She's not thirty-two weeks, is she?"

"I don't believe so."

"She's thirty-four?"

"Maybe. Either thirty-four or thirty-five, I cannot be sure. This would not be the first time I have misdiagnosed a conception. This would not be the first time a conception date has been wrong, not just by me. Pregnancy is a fickle thing, Honeymaren; it is not exact science, nor is it magic. Pregnancy is wholly natural, gifted by Great Mother herself onto Woman to carry on the lines. We are made for pregnancy, made to endure the growth and change, the pain that comes with childbirth. It is why men have such a time dealing with a strong woman; they believe a woman's place is in the home, bearing children, but they do not understand the price a woman pays to bear children. They only see her growing belly and softening form, they do not understand the inner workings that goes on with a woman when she is pregnant, nor do they understand the happenings of childbirth. So when a woman such as Elsa, who was a strong queen in her own right, who has always challenged men, becomes pregnant, they expect it to break her."

"But it's doing the opposite, isn't it? It's making her stronger."

"It is. Because she was a strong queen, that strength and stubbornness is put to good use now. It is often said that women of weak constitutions cannot survive pregnancy and childbirth. What is forgotten that, though a woman may not have survived childbirth, her constitution was anything but weak; a weak constitution is not the cause of death in childbirth. A woman's constitution, presumed weak or not, is always strong when she is pregnant, because it is not just her anymore, but her child." She sighed, glancing back at the hut, before pulling Honeymaren closer. "We must watch her, be careful with her. I fear she will give birth sometime between the next four and six weeks; she will not birth in eight weeks, like she assumes." She glanced over her shoulder, catching Yelena's eye as the chief passed by, before turning back to Honeymaren. "And when she does, we must do everything within our to protect both her and the baby."