Rifiuto: Non Miriena
A/N: Written: 2019 - Licia
By the time the twins were a month old, Elsa and Hans had settled into parenthood- somewhat. They'd managed to develop a semi-normal sleeping and feeding pattern; it also helped that usually one twin was sleeping when the other was feeding, which gave both parents a bit of a break. Elsa wasn't allowed to return to her duties- not fully until they were five months old; at three months, she could do very minor duties, but nothing strenuous or as Fifth Spirit, however, Hans did return to helping the rest of the tribe when needed, however, Northuldra custom stated that both new parents take the first five months to be with their children and adjust to this new chapter of their lives. Honeymaren had settled into her role as Chief, though she still hid in Elsa and Hans' hut from time to time when she needed a break or wanted advice or time with the babies.
So it was one late night during supper that Hans returned from helping Ryder round up the reindeer and put them out to pasture, that he found his wife feeding Dorothea while Iduna slept. He still wasn't sure which was which, though his wife seemed to know easily. Perhaps it was a mother thing, which he'd brought up to his wife one afternoon as she'd fed Iduna. "No, darling, it's the fact that Thea's-"
"Finicky?"
"I wouldn't call her finicky. For some reason, she's had a harder time nursing. Maybe because she's our second born? Given the fact that the birth in general was difficult, but then adding in that she was the one we didn't expect? Could be it, though I don't exactly see how."
Giving her a quick kiss, he went to check on Iduna, before pulling something out from behind his back. Elsa looked up, brow furrowing at the two wooden rattles he held out. "What are those?"
"Rattles."
She rolled her eyes. "I know that. Where did you get them?"
He settled beside her. "I made them."
Her eyebrows rose. "Really?" She reached out for one, giving it a cursory glance at first. "Hans, they're beautiful."
And they truly were, for all their simplicity. The simple wooden handles each led up to a beautifully crafted snowflake, with three small wooden rings that clacked together in the center of each. They were small enough for each baby to hold when she was able, but big enough and sturdy enough that nothing would be swallowed when they went to put them in their mouths, as they inevitably would one day.
Gently, Elsa shook the rattle at the baby, whose eyes lit on the noisemaker before turning back to her mother.
"Turn it over, love."
After a moment, Elsa did as told, gaze going to the handle. Gently, the nail of her thumb worked over the familiar letters carved into the handle. Her eyes welled with tears as she read DOROTHEA in beautiful capital vertical letters down the handle. "Oh." Her smile grew as he showed her the other one, with IDUNA done the same way. "They're beautiful, darling. Thank you."
He kissed her again, reaching up to brush the tears that slid down her cheeks away. "That way, we won't get confused which belongs to which, not that I think it would matter."
"But it's something personalized just for them." She replied, and he nodded, kissing her again. "Thank you, darling. It's wonderful. You certainly have a gift." He blushed, and she turned back to the baby in her arms.
"Have you eaten yet?" She shook her head. "I'll go get supper." She met his gaze, thanking him softly. He kissed her chastely before slipping out of the hut. Once gone, Elsa turned back to her daughter. The baby finished feeding, and after burping her, she returned the little girl to the cradle beside her sister. Once done, she knelt, picking up the rattles.
They really were beautifully carved; he'd taken the time to lovingly carve everything, making sure each snowflake was an exact replica of their mother's signature snowflake. And the names, so tenderly carved into the handles... After a moment, she went to the cradle, setting each rattle beside each girl before she took a seat on the bed, becoming lost in her thoughts, again. It had been a near continuous thing lately; she would be doing something or taking care of the girls, and then suddenly her head would fill with the most pretentious, poisoning thoughts.
Had they rushed this- this relationship, this marriage, these children? They couldn't exactly go back and change it now, but it was a common thought that tugged at her brain. You hated him. Absolutely hated him. And then suddenly... suddenly you were all... romantic and loving and tender to your enemy... you should hate him still, not be in... in some strange sense of... wedded and parental bliss with him! He tried to assassinate you for your throne, for Gods sake! That warrants a hate that lasts a lifetime, nay, centuries or millennia... but... but could it have been the river's doing?
The thought struck her like an arrow to the heart, and she reached up, pressing a hand to her chest. Elsa knew she was dense about a lot of things; thirteen years in isolation would stunt one's growth in regards to... everything, but especially emotional. Had she been so desperate for love, as the troll had been the day of her coronation, that she jumped at the first opportunity if it? With the exact same man who had snagged the troll's heart? She glanced at the cradle where her daughters slept. She loved her girls, despite the sleepless nights and constant care, she loved them deeply and couldn't imagine her life without them now. And, to an extent, a deep extent, she loved their father, and she had never forgotten what he'd tried to do, how he'd tried to-
But was this the river's doing?
She looked up when he returned, giving him a small smile and a whispered thank you as he handed her the bowl and settled beside her. They ate in silence, enjoying the rare quiet, with their daughters both content and sleeping not far from them. Once finished, Hans returned the bowls before coming back to find his wife curled up on her side, head tucked beneath her. "Do you want to talk?"
Her crystallized gaze shifted to meet his. "Do you think this is real?"
He furrowed a brow, slipping out of his shoes before joining her. "Do I think what is real, Els?" He stretched out on his back, stretching out an arm to her, but when she sat up, he tucked them behind his head. He could feel her gaze on him, and after a moment, met it, waiting patiently for her to respond.
"This. Us."
A moment passed; he thought about it, puffing out his cheeks. "Seems pretty real."
"I meant... do you think we... got here because of us or..."
He raised an eyebrow. "Or, what? You think the river got us here?"
She began to worry her bottom lip, tearing tiny, thin pieces off before letting it slowly uncurl from her teeth before catching it again and repeating the process. Finally, after several minutes, she spoke; her lower lip had tiny dots of blood upon it from where she'd pulled layer after layer of skin away, but she didn't notice. "I... don't know... maybe..." She sucked her lower lip back between her teeth, brow furrowing. "It wouldn't surprise me. The river does like to play horrible tricks-"
"And you think this is a horrible trick?"
She returned to nibbling on her lip. "I-"
"Elsa," Her gaze met his. "Even if this is the river's doing, it doesn't change how I feel about you." He reached up, caressing her cheek. "When I said that I fell in love with you as a child, I meant it. I didn't even have a name or a portrait, but I knew that we were meant to be, even though my father never wrote to your parents about the betrothal. I still loved you. I guess... I guess you could say that... that you helped me get better."
She furrowed a brow. "I don't-"
He tugged her down gently, but she refused to budge. "I decided that I was going to walk, partially to show my family that I could, and, also because, well, if we were going to be betrothed, then I wanted to be able to walk off the ship, walk up to you and take your hand the first day we met. I didn't want one of my brothers or one of the sailors having to carry me. I didn't want you to be betrothed to a sickly cripple, so I told myself that my being able to walk would show my father and brothers that i wasn't the unworthy youngest, it would make my mother proud, and I would be able to greet my... some day bride the way she should be greeted. And that helped keep me going. You helped keep me going."
A moment passed before she lay down, tucking herself into his chest. She kept silent for several minutes before, "But what if the river-"
"Elisabeth," He sighed, stroking her back. "if the river did anything, it helped us realize that we're in love."
She snuggled close, thinking. "I remember Papa talking about betrothals when I was... five, maybe six. I didn't want to go to bed, so I hid in the library, and he and Mama walked in."
"What about Prince Henri, the Count of Chamrod, he is only a couple years older than Gitta?"
"No, Iduna. I'm not marrying my daughter to a Frenchman. She is to be Queen of Arendelle some day, not Queen of France. I will not hand my oldest daughter over to a French prince.
"What about Karl of Schleswig-"
"He is nine years older than Lisbet, Iduna. No."
"Prince Carl of Sweden? Elsa is only four years older than he-"
"No, Iduna."
"Look, Agnarr, I don't like it anymore than you do, but-"
"But Elsa will be a strong ruler in her own right. She does not need a man by her side to help her rule. Our Lisbet is... brilliant, and a man would only... hinder her brilliance. Try to outshine her and then attempt to do away with her."
"Agnarr, if she is anything like you when she becomes queen, she will see through his tricks and turn the tables. She will take control. It is her country, her kingdom, her rule, our Gitta will not let a man tell her that it's not."
"I still don't like it."
"You just don't like the prospect of our daughter having to marry at some point."
"No, I don't. If Lisbet is to be queen, she is to be queen alone-"
"But she is going to need an heir, my love."
"Anna will be her heir."
"You and I both know that is only in the most dire of circumstances. No, she needs an heir born of her womb, of her own blood to secure the line. Anna is a last resort. Besides, Anna is..." A sigh. "What about the Isles?"
"What are you talking about?"
"The King and Queen of the Southern Isles have sons, don't they?"
"Last I heard, they had thirteen sons."
"I could not imagine birthing thirteen children. It was a struggle birthing two... could we look at a betrothal with one of them?"
"Question would be, which one?"
"One of the younger ones- they're the closest to Elisabeth in age. If I remember right, the queen had two sets of twins and two sets of triplets, and three single births. I think the second to last was either a twin birth or a triplet, and the youngest is a single birth."
"I got caught sneaking out of the library and chastised for being up late. I never found out which one they planned to betroth me too- not until I read that letter, and saw they'd decided on you. Until then, it would have been either you or one of your three older brothers."
He kissed her head. "We were always destined, Elisabeth. One way or another, either now or back then, we'd have been married. As for," He sighed. "I would hope, that we would become a love match." She slowly lifted her head, brow furrowing in confusion.
"What's a love match?"