The Marigold Afternoon
A cool afternoon breeze was blowing through the balcony doors of Elsa's bedchambers, casting a pleasant air through the room and accentuating the soft murmurs of voices inside. On a large, plush sofa in the corner, facing a large plated window that gazed to the fjord beyond, Elsa was sitting causally with her legs tucked up under her, her hands carefully handling the figure of Yasha as he lay with his head in her lap. Her blue eyes were watching him intently, her white teeth biting onto her red lip. It was as if everything that mattered would be decided by his reaction, and her heart was beating anxiously in her chest.
"Well? What do you think?" she asked.
His brow was furrowed, and his lips and mouth were moving slowly. His eyes were on the small chocolate between his fingers, noticing the smooth ridges from where his teeth chipped had away an accommodating bite. With the amount of attention she was giving it, he was making sure to fully appreciate how much this meant to her.
"It is sweet," he remarked.
She nodded in a dreamy haze and she looked to the plate of chocolates on the table next to the sofa. She already wanted to eat another one, though she was trying to show some restraint with him around.
"I know. Isn't chocolate the most wonderful thing?" she sighed.
He worked the bite around his mouth a bit more. "It is very sweet."
By now, she had caught on to his mood and smirked , noticing he hadn't even taken another bite. "Is that all you have to say about it?" she asked.
His eyes slowly moved up, noticing how she was unimpressed with his impression of the treat. "It is also brown," he noted.
The comment did little to appease her and she sighed, a little sad that he didn't share her love for it, though she resolved to see if she could change his mind over time. After all, they had all the time in the world.
"You're probably the only person in Arendelle that doesn't like chocolate, you know," she pointed out.
"Perhaps. I may also be the only one who has not been eating it since I was a child," he replied.
The reminder of his childhood made her frown and she didn't want the mood to be soured by thoughts of his tragic history. There was too much sadness in those reflections, and she wanted to enjoy these quiet moments with him without the shadows of the past.
"Fine, then let me have it," she demanded.
Impishly, she opened her mouth and closed her eyes, waiting for him to deliver the rest of the treat to her waiting tongue. His smirk grew at her childish response, though he was taken by how attractive she was in the midst of it. Quietly, he slipped it into her mouth, watching her red lips close around his fingertip to suckle the last bits of melted chocolate that remained. After such a delicate act, her blue eyes fluttered open to him and she smiled, with the slightest blush on her cheeks.
"I will admit that I do not hate chocolate, however," he remarked.
Her eyes sparkled. These halcyon days with him were more than she could have ever imagined, especially in light of the path they had walked to get there. With how tumultuous their journey had been, these quiet moments alone with her fingers playfully twirling his dark hair seemed like an adequate reward for the trials they had attended. Now that they had no more trials and could simply enjoy their hushed affair, she wanted to spend as much time like this as possible, though she was disappointed with how her court had welcomed him.
As she had him in her arms, that was a problem for another day.
Yasha settled once more, laying his hands carelessly across his chest, his eyes closed and relaxed. Sitting in her bedchambers, resting in her lap and feeling the intoxicating touch of her touch was such a stark contrast to his life before that a part of him suspected that it might all be a dream. Sometimes he imagined he would awaken in the dank corner of his grotto, finding dripping stone and only pale light filling the world around him. There were nights when he was torn from his sleep, covered in cold sweat and remembering the darkness of his life before she was a part of it. The sensation of being so lost was frightening. He would then feel her at his back, reminding him that the darkness was the dream and her touch was the reality.
Elsa watched his relaxed face, her hands reveling in their dominance of him. "Are you happy here, Yasha?" she suddenly asked, brushing aside some dark hair from his face.
"Why do you ask me questions of which you already know the answer?" he answered.
The response caused her to laugh lightly. She realized he used that answer quite often, and she loved it for its lyrical tone. "Maybe I just like to hear the sound of your voice," she mused.
"Perhaps you would like me to recite a sonnet, or an epic poem then?" he suggested, though his voice was heavy with sarcasm.
In the time she had really gotten to know him, she had found such strange disparity within him. He was a prince that had never worn a crown. He had lived like a pauper for nearly his entire life, yet carried himself regally and commanded the air around him. He had never been formally tutored in art or music, yet could coax such powerful melodies from his bamboo flute that it often brought tears to her eyes. He was a man of contradiction, but that was just one of the reason she had grown to love him, even when he was a little too harsh on himself for the lack of formal manners.
"You could read a recipe for potato soup and I'd hang on every word," she sang sweetly.
He slowly opened his eyes. He didn't quite understand how she could so easily look past his deficiencies, ones that were often spoken about by others in her court when they thought no one could hear. While she and Anna had both been so quick to accept him in their world, he found that many others in the castle didn't share those sentiments, especially considering his efforts to kidnap the princess and the details that came to light in the destruction of his kingdom. It was as if he lived in two worlds, one where he was a shadow in the halls of Arendelle, catching whispers and narrowed glances as he passed by, and the other a dream-like state where he could banter with Anna in the gardens of the castle or lie tangled in the arms of the Snow Queen, completely content and unsettlingly happy.
Without a word about the former world, he resolved to keep Elsa only in the latter.
"You will need four potatoes, a cup of fresh cream…" he began.
Elsa laughed. She didn't understand why the simplest of things about him captured her, but she realized that even when they had been joking about it, she really could have just listened to him name an insignificant list of ingredients, just because she wanted to be in his world. It didn't matter how.
"Marigolds," she suddenly said after the humor had settled, though it brought a smirk across his face.
"I have never heard of such a recipe," he noted.
She laughed again, then shook her head. "Not that. I mean that whenever I look at you, and I try to imagine what kind flower you'd be, I can only think of one," she explained.
"Marigolds."
The abstract subject twisted his brow, wondering where it was coming from. He felt a bit guilty as he wondered if this was common recreation for the royals of Arendelle, to guess what kind of flowers best suited people, and that it was just another thing he didn't understand about royal life, but he did see how interested she was in it and the way it made her eyes glimmer.
"Why marigolds?" he asked.
She thought a moment, stroking her fingers through his hair. "Because they're colorful and beautiful, and because they have layers, just like you," she explained, tilting her head as she spoke and caressing him just like she would a delicate flower.
"And because whenever I see them, they make me happy."
The last part was accompanied by a slight blush on her face, though she continued to look at him strongly and demand that he understand. Truthfully, she had been thinking about this a lot lately, ever since she had seen a vase full of the flowers and the way the colors of orange, yellow and red seemed to blend and merge into what looked just like the blossom of fire. It was just one more thing that did so, though there was no shortage of those lately. Everything made her think of him, but the flowers were something tangible, and romantic to consider. She had invested a lot into the idea, hoping this little game would be yet another way she could enjoy their time together.
"I see," he replied stiffly, breaking the mood that she had built for them.
She could see the confusion in his face and realized that this was the sort of thing he wasn't good at. It was strange how he was so skilled at certain aspects of their romance, yet seemed so lost about others. "What about me? What kind of flower am I?" she asked, dismissing his heavy expression and hoping to lighten him up. Truthfully, she would accept anything he offered, even if it wasn't clever or romantic. She expected him to say 'rose' or 'lily' just to appease her, and that would have been enough. It was just a simple game, just to get him to talk to her.
He seemed disturbed and sat silently for a while.
"I will have to give it some thought," he finally replied, looking at the ceiling with a quiet expression.
His sour response made her purse her lips together, feeling disappointed that he couldn't play such a lighthearted game. There were often reminders of how much different they were, and she tried to think of something to say to rebuild the atmosphere, but nothing came to mind, and she felt just as frustrated in not being able to coax him into this part of her world.
Sometimes, they were too different for their connection to grow.
"Oh, okay," she sighed, resting her hands as she felt the mood seep out of her chambers.
Over the next several days, Elsa didn't see much of Yasha. He didn't come to her balcony at night, and when she saw him in the castle during the day he would formally address her and leave, something that was making her panic inside. Even asking Anna gave didn't help, as her sister hadn't seen much of him either. Sometimes he wasn't seen for the whole of the day, with one really sure what he was doing.
In truth, his distant attitude was really beginning to concern her.
After several more days of this unsettling pace, Elsa was feeling distraught and exhausted, both from her duties but also because of the absence in her life. Another day had passed without being able to see him, and she entered into her chambers with a heavy sigh. Her eyes were cast to the floor as she leaned back against the closed door, not even responding as the guard wished her a good night.
There would be no good night as long as she couldn't meet him.
Silence filled the air, even as she secretly was hoping to hear the soft notes of his flute on her balcony. Her hope drew her eyes there, yet found nothing. "What happened to you, Yasha?" she whispered to the empty room, closing her eyes and wrapping her arms around herself for a moment. As they often had since he disappeared, scolding thoughts filled her mind, whispering that she had driven him away somehow, that her games were insensitive to the troubles she knew he was having with adjusting to life in Arendelle. If they were true and she was the reason for him to grow so distant, there would be no measure of forgiveness in her heart, and she wondered just how she could come to terms with that terrible fact. If only she could talk to him, she would apologize for anything she might have said to make him act this way.
At the moment, she would do anything to bring him back.
The silence of the room was suddenly broken by a strange sound, and she instantly became aware of it. Her eyes rose to the source of the sound and found something sitting on her bed, swaying in the breeze from her open window and rasping against the quiet of the night.
Her heart leaping, she quickly ran over and found a large bundle of paper folded up carefully and waving to her in the wind. There were no marks. There was no ribbon. There were no indications of who it was from, but she instantly knew the answer and could barely contain her excitement as she seized it and eagerly began to unwrap it.
As she unfolded a large, careful fold, a potent, weedy smell hit her and she saw the glimpse of something dark blue and purple. Inside the bundle was a carefully placed sprig of flowers, though she quickly came realize that even though this was Yasha's answer, it wasn't at all what she had expected, or hoped for.
"Foxglove?" she whispered.
The bell-shaped flowers weren't her favorite, and were the last thing she expected. The flowers themselves gave off no considerable fragrance and they didn't capture the heart as a rose would. The entire plant was actually poisonous to anyone careless enough to ingest it. There was nothing about them that referenced any romantic trait, and that was what kept her brow furrowed in disappointment.
In every conceivable manner, it was a terrible answer, and she couldn't even begin to grasp his meaning as she unfolded the last crease of the paper.
Elsa gasped. Her shaky fingers rose up to her lips and she let out a choking breath, feeling her angry mood dissipate instantly. In spite of the way she had been tormented over the last few days by his bizarre behavior, she suddenly came to realize what he had been doing. He had obviously spent every moment of his time simply trying to answer her playful question, taking something that was supposed to be a game and turning it into an epic quest. For even something as trivial as this game of hers, he had been trying to make sure his answer reflected the exact meaning in his heart. The fact that he had taken it so seriously and caused her so much concern made her want to punish him the next time she saw him, but the answer itself and the lengths he would go to just to respond to her feelings made her want to kiss him instead, for the simple sentence written carefully on the last fold of paper.
In the meadows around Arendelle, Foxglove can always be found together with Marigolds.