Usual disclaimer. Angst stuff and fluff stuff and plot, oh my! Enjoy.
It was hard. It was hard for Elsa to just sit idly by as she listened to Anna's story of her parents, one that clearly cut her down to her very core. When she had gotten up to comfort Anna, it was off of instinct; she didn't even think about it, she just did it. The fact that Anna had opened up to her yet again, and in such an exposed way, truly tugged at her heartstrings –
And made her even more frustrated at herself.
Anna had now exposed two of her deepest sorrows with Elsa, and the blonde didn't even have the courtesy to tell her the story of her mother. She had never had the strength to tear down her walls for anyone but Tonna, who had worked tirelessly to earn her trust. She deeply missed her mentor, and wished she was here to give her advice.
But this is why she chose you as her advisor, she thought, because she trusts you to begin handling things on your own.
She clenched her jaw as she stared at the ceiling above the couch she and Anna had been laying on. The girl was mentally exhausted after recounting the tale of her parents and opening the wounds that she had worked hard to close, and thus fell asleep.
On my arm, might I add. Anna had asked her to stay with her, not wanting to be alone. Of course, the blonde agreed.
How could I have said no?
Elsa looked down at the redhead through her glasses, the girl now resting tranquilly. For the first time that day, she looked truly at peace. She smelled of strawberries and jasmine, no doubt due to the shampoo and body wash she used.
Anna's face soon changed, however. It began to morph into one of quiet terror.
She's having a nightmare.
"Ma… Pap…," she murmured. Elsa realized then that she was having a dream about her parents. Anna's feet began to twitch, and her eyebrows drew together. Soon, she was whimpering quietly. Janders came up to see what was wrong with the two; Elsa pet his head and softly commanded him to sit.
She turned back to Anna, unsure of exactly what to do. So she did the only thing she could; she wrapped her arms around the girl in hopes of comforting her. She soon felt Anna's twitching cease, a pair of arms wrapping around her waist and hugging her back. She rubbed up and down the girl's spine.
"You're okay, Anna. You're safe here," she murmured, resting her chin atop Anna's head, "You're safe here." She felt a small nodded against the crook of her neck, knowing now that Anna had awoken. Her arms tightened around Elsa, pulling her almost flush against her.
"Thank you, Elsa," she said, breath ghosting over the blonde's collarbones. Red erupted across her cheeks at the sensation, and she swallowed hard.
"Mmhm," she replied, not trusting herself to say actual words.
Really? C'mon Elsa, this is about her, not your damn attraction to her, she thought. She took a deep breath, pulling back to look at Anna in the eyes.
"Hey," she began softly, "I've been meaning to ask you a question since you told me the story about your parents." Anna's gaze turned inquisitive, wondering what it was that Elsa wanted to ask. Elsa's brows came together.
"Why is your last name Branansikt and not Kjærlighet?" she asked. Anna's eyebrows rose, surprised that Elsa had picked up on the detail that she had not shared her parent's last name. She propped herself up onto her elbow, now looking down at Elsa. The proximity didn't seem to phase Anna in the slightest; that didn't stop her from noticing the blush arise behind the frame of Elsa's glasses. She smiled internally before answering Elsa's question.
"Well, mainly for security reasons, to be completely honest," she said, "The people who were hunting me down knew my last name. If I changed it, they would be a hell of a lot more lost than if I didn't. The Trolls pointed that out to me, and I agreed. So they let me choose my new last name.
I chose Branansikt for a few reasons; one, it was a combination of two words: Brann and Ansikt, Fire and Face. So, my last name literally translates to Fire Face. At the time, I only was training with Fire, so I thought that it would be best to name it after my favorite element," she said. Elsa tilted her head slightly opening her mouth to ask a question.
"Have you always known that you could master all four?" she asked. Anna nodded her head.
"Yeah. My parents were originally going to teach me how to use all four, considering that they were both qualified to mentor in each. But unfortunately, I had only learned how to make a little ball of fire in my hand before my parents…," she said, averting her eyes, "You know. Anyway, in a certain kind of remembrance for what they were able to show me, my last name became Branansikt." She gave a sad smile, thinking back on her mother showing her how to do the little ball of fire that she called her Tiger Lily.
"I do miss them, Elsa. Even if I wasn't able to spend a lot of time with them, I do miss them like I lost them yesterday," she said., "Cherish your father. He might make you worry, but at the very least… He's here to make you worry." She gave a forlorn half-smile down at her mentor, who was looking at her oddly.
"What?" She asked, becoming slightly unnerved at how Elsa was looking at her.
"You didn't ramble." Elsa's voice came out soft, not in the slightest manner accusatory or teasing. She looked genuinely curious at this fact.
"I talked a lot, though," Anna replied, sitting up and taking interest in the table, "Which is basically the same thing, right?" Elsa's gentle chuckle sung through the air, and Anna felt her shift along with her.
"Not in the slightest, Anna. Talking a lot about one subject for a while is entirely different than going a mile a minute about fifteen different subjects in three breaths," she said, giggling behind her hand. Anna chuckled then, joining in with her laughter at the snide remark.
Anna turned and looked at Elsa; the sky blue of her eyes riddled with quiet mirth and the apples of her cheeks lifting them up slightly. Her hand was still up, a clear indication of her silent laughter along with the slightly movement of her shoulders
"Elsa?" She said quietly, gazing at the blonde in the eye. Her laughing gaze slowly became concerned as she dropped her hand; this was one of the first times she couldn't get a solid read on Anna's face, wondering if everything was okay.
What she did not expect was for Anna to lean in and give her forehead a peck, warm lips feeling like they almost searing against the smooth skin of her forehead. Her eyes widened and she froze, feeling shell-shocked from said experience.
"Thank you." She pulled back and gave her a lopsided grin, a light red tinging her ears and neck. "I think talking about my parents actually helped me more than you think." Her face turned serious.
"And Elsa? Please remember, I'm here for you as well. Should you ever need to talk about anything my ears are always open for you, just as yours were for me." She took Elsa's hand and gave it a squeeze, sending a reassuring smile her direction to back up her support as true. Elsa felt tears come to her eyes.
She's trying, so hard… Just let her in, goddamnit, start with something!
"You-you don't have to," Anna said uncertainly, her thumb rolling over Elsa's knuckles, "I'm just putting the offer out there. There's no pressure for you to talk or-or anything at all. I get that some people take longer to trust someone than others." The statement both reassured and agitated Elsa. It took her a solid minute of deep breathing before she gained the courage to talk.
"I can at least give you an explanation," she said, "About why I'm so hesitant to talk about my mo –" She was cut off by the sound of the front door swinging open.
"Afternoon girls," said Agðar said, "Would the pair of you mind helping bringing groceries in?" They nodded their response and went outside, Janders staying inside with Elsa's father. Elsa looked over apologetically at Anna, who was picking up two bags.
"Another ti-time, perhaps," she said, her nervousness making her hands shake slightly. Anna nodded her head, understanding Elsa's external plight.
"Only when you want to, Frosty," she said, the use of Elsa's moniker making the blonde smile. They gathered the rest of the groceries and went inside, closing the door behind them. There was a bit of hacking from the downstairs bathroom, on the same floor that Anna slept on. Elsa quickly put down the bags she had been carrying onto the counter and rushed up to the bathroom.
"Papa? Are you alright?"
Agðar heard the question loud and clear, and was about to answer Elsa with an 'I'm alright, dear.', but was cut off by yet another coughing fit just as he caught his breath.
"Papa?" she asked again, more urgency filtering into her voice. He thumped his hand against his chest to make it seem like he merely had a piece of food caught in his throat. He gazed down angrily at the paper towel he held in his hand, as if it had caused this mess his body was in. As soon as he was sure that a fit was not about to return and he had wiped the blood from around his mouth off, he went over to the door and opened it.
"I'm alright, dear. I promise," he said tersely, giving a weak grin, "I just had some food caught in my throat." She scanned over his face, the deep cerulean gaze behind her glasses scouring, and for a moment he thought that he had missed some blood. His face was stoic, and in the end it paid off.
"Alright. Well, Anna and I finished bringing in the groceries, just to let you know. I'm gonna do some laundry after lunch, would you like me to do yours as well?" He shook his head, realizing that his bloody handkerchiefs were in his basket. He made sure that he moved his head normally, not so fast as to make his daughter suspicious. He knew that she read body language as if it were a book, and one wrong move could reveal that he was hiding something.
"That's fine, thank you dear," he responded, "I already have my laundry done for the week; I did it before I left." A lie. "If I need it done, I'll let you know." Another lie.
She nodded her head before gathering hers and Anna's laundry from their respective rooms before going downstairs with Anna, each with a basket in hand. He released a breath of air and walked over to the counter, starting to put the groceries.
Once he was finished, he started putting on a pot of coffee, loading up the grinds into the filter. The smell of fresh brewed coffee began to filter throughout the air, the smell welcome and making his stomach rumble. On a particularly deep breath, he began hacking again, grabbing a paper towel from the roll.
And then, he realized something.
I have a load of laundry in the dryer. Fuck!
He started downstairs as soon as his coughing fit was done, flying down the steps just a moment too late. Elsa was standing still, staring down at the stained cloth in her hand. Anna was looking owlishly at it, then up at Elsa's face.
Elsa slowly turned her head up at her father, knowing immediately of his presence from the loud thumping of him running down the steps. His grey gaze met her azure one, and both of their eyes widened; hers at the realization, his at that fact.
"Papa…," she whispered, "Are you sick?" Her lip trembled, a deep frown settling on her face. He found himself unable to formulate words, as if his vocal chords no longer could cooperate. Her gaze turned angry as her brows came together, the temperature in the room beginning to drop rapidly. Her eyes glowed a dangerous blue.
"Gods be damned, Papa, answer me!" she exploded. His eyes widened even further, an apology seeming to come across his eyes. His eyebrows came together as he broke eye contact, looking down.
"I can't, Elsa. Not right now," he said, looking up at her once more with a sorry gaze.
You motherfucking coward.
And then, he took off.
Elsa's body moved on instinct, moving at a speed that wasn't entirely possible for normal humans. Janders barked as they whizzed by, and her father had barely skated into the car as she ran outside. He locked the doors as she approached; she slammed into the driver's side door. Her eyes were glowing as if they were two neon light bulbs, the clouds forming overhead accompanied by a giant flurry.
The moment her fingertips touched the car, frost blasted across the windshield and windows. She reared back to punch in the windows, but soon her fury turned to concern as her father began to hack up blood onto a handkerchief he had just barely managed to rip out of his pocket. Her face softened as she retracted the Ice from his car, fingers pressed against the glass. She rested her forehead against the window, looking in at him.
"Why, Papa?" she asked, "Why didn't you tell me?" He looked over at her as his eyes misted over.
"Because I was not – no, I am not – strong enough," he replied. He doubled over and hacked into his cloth yet again, a forceful cough that spurred up much blood from inside him. Her eyes watered as he unlocked the door, stepping out.
"Papa, you need to go to a hospital," she said, placing a hand on his chest. He nodded; now that his secret was out, there was no reason not to go. He fell over at that point, knees buckling as he fell to the ground. Anna rushed outside, in a bit of a tizzy after all the events that had transpired in just under two minutes.
"I'll drive," Anna said, "Just give me directions. Stay in the back with your dad." She took the keys from Agðar and they started on their way. He continued to cough, face screwing up every time he reached for his handkerchief.
"Make a left here, Anna," said Elsa. She looked down at her father and his fading consciousness. She pressed her forehead against his, hoping to transfer some semblance of comfort to him.
"Stay with me Papa, we're gonna be there soon," she said, "I promise. We'll make you better."
"So. The King is coming, destruction be unto the Order?"
"Yes. That is what the phrase means, Milady."
"Hm." Gita sat at her throne, the news that Sir Donald Sorsa's linguist had decoded the phrase that they had been trying to decipher for weeks now reaching her ears the night prior. Lord Mickey Luch stood before her, bearing much news of what had been occurring for these past few days.
"I said that same phrase to them, in the original tongue – and they responded to me with something else," he told her. Her eyebrows raised, awaiting the new piece of information to be given to her. He wracked his memory, unable to remember the phrase for a brief moment.
"Céimeanna an rí atá ag fás. Déanfaimid mbogann a dhéanamh go luath," he recited, "I already have given this tidbit to Donald. He and his linguist are trying to figure it out, but for now, all we can do is wait." She nodded, knowing there was not much she could do.
"At least we have a leader now… The King, he calls himself. This worries me, Mickey," she said to him. He nodded.
"Me too, Gita. Me too."
Rí sat next to Laoch, the two of them atop their respective thrones. An army of men stood before them, their size formidable and their loyalty unwavering. Today was a branding and training day.
"Should we attack soon, my King?" Laoch asked. Rí shook his head, his hood pushed back to reveal his face for the time being.
"No, not yet. We still need more of the Renacer if we are going to attack. How are our Generals faring with the recruits?" He asked, turning toward the bigger man to the right of him. Laoch smiled, pleased with his King for asking the question.
"Exceptionally well. From the reports that we are given, we can start sending far more out on missions," he said, "We have not made a move on any of the Lords and Ladies since Amira Jabari. My Special Ops grow restless with the the thirst of another Magus's blood; therefore, we may want to move forward with Plan C." Rí's gloved fingertips tapped against the arm of his throne, taking Laoch's proposition into consideration. He then shook his head.
"It is too early. We need to finish out Plan A and B before making another stride with Plan C. The only reason we ordered them to kill Jabari was to let the Order know that we are here and we are strong, without the Bloodhound knowing who we exactly were," he replied. Laoch nodded, turning back to watch the training occurring before them. Their Spymaster, Blaine, came up to them and kneeled, hand over heart.
"Your Majesty, Lord Commander," he said, looking up at them, "I bear news of runaways."
"What?!" Laoch cried, shifting forward in his chair.
"Rise, Blaine," Rí said, far more composed than his Commander, "You speak of runaways. What does it seem that they've run away for?" Blaine rose to his feet and looked at his King.
"They wanted to prove their worth to you, so that they may move up in the Command Chain. They went to go kill Lord Mickey Luch in the middle of the night last night, Your Majesty," he said, "One of my Spiders from the Temple has told me that there is talk of a meeting to decide the fate of the attackers." He looked at the both of them for a few moments.
"I'll continue to report to you about what is happening to them, Your Majesty. It seems we haven't lost anyone valuable; just a few Mansings," Blaine continued, "But even Mansings have tongues. If you would take my counsel, Your Majesty, Lord Commander, I would send someone to kill them before they have a chance to spread their knowledge." Rí nodded.
"It would be best, I agree. Someone who can act out of line as they did can talk out of line as well," he said, turning to his Lord Commander, "Your men in the Special Ops thirst for blood, you say? Send one of them to the Temple to kill them with Bragsdar. No blood will be spilled, and it will be quiet. I do not want excess attention drawn to the man you intend to send." Laoch nodded, bearing a fiendish smile across his face.
"I know just the man, my King."
A/N: I really do love writing, you guys. While this was a tough chapter to write (at first), I had a ball writing the final part. I had to make myself feel every emotion I wrote in this chapter to keep it genuine; I hope it paid off!
And now, for the reviews! (thank you to everyone who favorited, followed, reviewed and PM'd this past week. Y'all kick ass!)
Strasza: Damn, why does this story keep getting better with each chapter? Pretty soon, I wont be able to think of ways to describe how utterly amazing this is. Keep doing what you're doing.
Burns: As always, I thank you for your support. It means a helluva lot that you comment every week - it even gives me more to look forward to. I hope you enjoyed this chapter Strasza, you deserve it!
(ch. 1) sedryn: Alright, let's give this a try
Burns: Thank you for reading the first chapter, even if it was just that chapter. I hope that you've stuck through long enough to see how far I've been able to come as a writer, and that you get to see that I replied to you! Cheers, my friend, have a great week.
Alright everyone, I'll see you all next week! ~ Burns