Joan: 1 1/2 years old
Elsa tried to concentrate and finish writing and reading in her study. But she knew she couldn't concentrate too much.
Anna and Kristoff trusted her to look after Joan while they went out tonight. Technically, she was doing just that. She looked every few seconds from her desk to make sure Joan was okay on the floor, playing with the ice figurines she made for her.
There was nothing pointy or breakable on these toys, so they were safe enough. Elsa froze them enough so Joan wouldn't stick her tongue on them if she licked them – once was too many times already. And no matter how much Joan banged them together, they didn't break.
Joan was lost in whatever make believe word she made up for her toys, putting Elsa at ease. She went back to reading for several moments, then looked back up, expecting to see her still playing. Instead, Joan had dropped her toys and was looking to the right.
"Elsa!" Joan called out. It wasn't necessary, since she already had her aunt's attention. Fortunately, Elsa had read and written fast enough to spare a few moments.
"I'm right here, sweetie," Elsa assured, walking over to pick her niece up, ignoring how big she'd gotten. However, she was ignoring her as well.
"Elsa!" Joan repeated, pointing to the right this time. At that moment, Elsa actually looked there and solved the mystery. Now both of them could see it snowing outside the window.
"Oh….I don't think I did that," Elsa figured. She was calm and the work wasn't more stressful than usual, even with Joan there. This must have been a natural night time snowfall.
"Elsa!" Joan said anyway, pointing clearly to the window and what was behind it.
"No, no. I didn't make that happen," Elsa said more confidently.
When Elsa agreed not to hide her powers from baby Joan, she stood firm and said she wouldn't make anything big in front of her. She would be eased into seeing her aunt's powers, so she'd more easily accept them and be careful around them when she was older.
Elsa never made a full-fledged snowfall in front of Joan before. If she thought her aunt could do that much, she didn't get it from her.
"I don't make stuff like that," Elsa said, hoping Joan was old enough to understand. "I make smaller stuff. Like this," she set up, before shooting out a small burst of magic and triggering a little flurry nearby.
Yet Joan still pointed to it and called out, "Elsa!" again.
Now it made somewhat more sense. As much sense as a baby could make – no matter how much Elsa wanted to give her more common sense than her parents.
Still, Elsa couldn't help but chuckle at Joan's logic. Virtually everyone other than Anna and Kristoff associated snow and Elsa together – just not in this way.
"No, honey. That's not Elsa. I'm Elsa," she told Joan. She took her back to her desk and sat down to explain better. "That white stuff is called snow. Can you say snow?" she asked, now hoping she could teach Joan a new word. "Snow, Joan. Snow."
"No!" Joan announced. Elsa frowned at first, but soon got how Joan was getting it wrong. She got the word right – she just left out two letters.
"You've almost got it. It's snow," Elsa said slowly, stressing the s and w. "You can do it. Say ssssnowww," she tried to sound cute, despite how it wasn't her natural tone of voice. At least not for anyone but Joan.
"No!" Joan said quickly, without actually telling her no. Elsa was still very much amused, but she preferred for Joan to get this right before it stopped being funny. Effortlessly saying a word like "Elsa" better than "snow" was kind of funny, yet she hoped there was nothing more serious behind it.
"Okay, this is snow," Elsa announced, before sending up a magic burst that rained flurries in front of Joan – but not on the desk and documents.
"Elsa!" Joan still got it wrong in a different way.
"All right….let's try this another way," Elsa thought ahead. This time when she sent a flurry of magic, it formed a large snowflake that Elsa could suspend in the air in front of Joan. "This is snow. Or no, as you call it. The rest of us call it snow."
Dissolving the snowflake before Joan could try to name it, Elsa brought her attention back to her. Pointing at her own face, she explained, "And I'm Elsa."
She tapped her cheek twice, then made up another large snowflake and hovered it between her and Joan. "Snow," Elsa repeated, then dissolved it and pointed to her face again. "Elsa," she stressed the difference again.
To drive it home, Elsa forged another snowflake in front of Joan. "Go on, it's okay," Elsa encouraged Joan to reach out. "That's snow."
Elsa could hardly believe she was encouraging Joan to touch a magic creation of hers. She could barely believe she wasn't imagining the worst right now. But she made a promise to Joan, long before she was born – and she'd done well keeping it so far. No sense in breaking it over a mere snowflake and an English lesson.
Therefore, Elsa felt calm as she kept the snowflake in the air, long enough for Joan to touch. She didn't try to say snow, no or Elsa, but she looked in awe of whatever it was. Elsa thought she heard Joan try to say "S" before she dissolved the snow into littler flurries. Still, Joan laughed as the flurries coated her hands, so Elsa didn't mind.
Elsa turned Joan over to her, as she watched her aunt as closely as the snowflake. At that point, she treated her just like the snowflake – by reaching over and touching her face.
Elsa's breath caught, more than she meant to. More than she should have by now.
Yet even after all these years, she would never take the mere act of touching someone for granted. Much less be less than amazed that someone would knowingly, and willingly, want to touch and embrace her.
Joan wasn't old enough to know better, of course. Her mother and father didn't always know better themselves. But at that moment, those loopholes didn't matter.
Not while Joan was touching her face, studying her with the same awe, wonder and love that she gave the snow. In fact, she almost looked more in awe of her aunt.
Elsa knew not everyone made the most flattering associations between her and snow. Not everyone could see past it, outside of her family. Not everyone could actually see Elsa beyond all the snow and power – or care enough to try. Or necessarily like what they saw if they tried.
It was a long shot that Joan was knowingly doing all this. Again, she might not know better yet. Regardless, Elsa really felt like Joan could really see her, and like it whether she was the "No Queen" or not.
That was better than so many things she thought she knew over the years. Or at least made herself believe.
Elsa knew this for sure when Joan let go of her, and correctly said, "Elsa!" this time – just as gleefully as when she saw the snow. As if that was more important to her. "Elsa, Elsa, Elsa!" she repeated for good measure.
"Very good," Elsa chuckled, ruffling her light strawberry-blonde hair with her bare hand. It seemed better than tearing up in front of her.
She put both hands around her niece's waist, and Elsa's old purple onesie that she was wearing. Turning her around, she settled Joan on her lap, only needing a minute to decide her next move.
She likely fell behind schedule on her reading and writing by now. Still, it wasn't like she was planning to fall asleep early tonight anyway. In any case, moments like this would make Elsa sleep much better. First, she needed a closer look.
To that end, she got up and held Joan with one hand, taking her chair with the other. It was one of her smaller chairs, since the fancier, more decorated ones were saved for the throne room. As such, she could pull it and place it in front of the window, then sit down with Joan and enjoy the snowfall.
"Sssss…..no!" Joan almost had it that time.
"That's close enough for now," Elsa gave in. She got the more important word right anyway. In more ways than one – more ways than many ever did. Still, she could revel in that later.
Elsa was watching a natural snowfall without any anxiety, with the apple of her eye in her lap, yet still safe and sound. That was a far more remarkable thing she'd never dared to dream of before.
At the least, she had more selfish reasons to insist Anna and Kristoff go out more often.