Elsa's never felt so warm in her life. Even with a fire roaring in her fireplace, even with layers of quilts and blankets, that little kernel of frost always seemed to radiate with a frigidness that kept her awake since fear consumed her judgement. Since that day she hurt Anna when they were little.
But this . . . this kind of warmth is everlasting. It doesn't try to smother her magic, doesn't try to melt it. Instead, it encases itself around her frost – a golden, rippling shield of light and warmth. A seed from the sun itself.
It's so enveloping, so cozy that Elsa dreads the thought of having to leave it. Slowly, she swims to semiconsciousness, each of her senses gradually awakening and piecing together a picture in the blackness of her closed eyes.
Her room, judging from the smell of the sheets, and the direction of the light casting onto her closed lids – swirls of red and yellow churning and undulating. She lengthens her legs out long, savoring the sweet stretch before tucking them in close. She presses her cheek deeper into her pillow, a small smile on her lips; perfectly content to just laying in bed all day. Laying in this steady, cocooning tenderness.
She doesn't remember when she fell asleep, but she could've sworn she was already up at around –
Elsa's eyes spring open, blinking against the muffled light permeating behind her curtains. She lifts her head from the pillow, and as she attempts to shift her legs, the sudden weight draped across her abdomen becomes distinct.
Carefully Elsa props herself on her elbow and slowly rolls to looks over her shoulder.
She can't stop her gasp of surprise as she finds Michael laying next to her, his tan arm draped across her waist. His torso bare safe for the bandages around his shoulder, his face softened into handsomeness from sleep.
Looking down, she exhales with relief as she's laying above the sheets, and not beneath them. She doesn't know what she'd do if that happened.
But they are still laying together – closely. His chin would've been resting atop her head, his chest pressed against her back.
He barely moves, and she knew he wouldn't for a while. The kind of sleep that claims him now, not even an earthquake could wake him.
She tries to calm her raging heart, reminding herself that the curtains are still drawn, meaning no one has since come into her room. She shifts onto her back, Michael's arm now draping low across her waist. He stirs, but doesn't move. That's a miracle in itself, she realizes — that he feels safe enough to sleep soundly with her. Her point only emphasized when his grip tightens, almost tugging her back to him.
Elsa bites her lip as she carefully eases herself out of his grasp, gently shifting his arm so she doesn't disturb him. She shivers at the sudden lack of warmth. The temptation to slip back in and disregard her queenly duties growing all too strong.
She's at the edge of the bed when she feels him move, and she freezes like a doe.
She glances over her shoulder and finds him now laying on his back, his head leaning to the side. The light and shadow emphasize the sharpness of his jaw, highlighting the scars sprinkled across his body, and reflecting the sheen in his raven-black hair. Elsa shakes her head as she hops off the bed, jabbing her feet into her slippers.
She hurries over to her vanity to fix her hair, the plait a near tangled mesh. She must've slept just as deeply judging from the imprints on her cheek.
She can see Michael's reflection behind her own, moving to lay on his side now. Gods what was she thinking bringing him here with her?! Even in his sickened state he knew the issues that would arise should someone see them in her room – together!
Even if her reasons had been just, the picture it would paint . . .
At the time, it didn't matter to her. She had practically barged her way into his rooms after smelling something burning. The sight she beheld still churns her stomach.
He was clenching the sheets until his knuckles were white, the claws of flames ripping and burning the sheets, blackening their edges, and permeating the room with the smell of burned cotton. He was sweating buckets and clenching his teeth so hard she thought he'd shatter them. Tossing and turning as if he was fighting some invisible force, trying to fight from screaming. And when he told her what the dream was about . . .
As he was sick into the toilet, so disgustingly thorough, she couldn't help but pity him. Something just told her he wasn't going to sleep on his own for the rest of the day.
Elsa sighs as she finishes her braid, tucking back her bangs and flattening any wrinkles in her skirt. Taking one last look at her reflection, seeing his sleeping form behind her, Elsa's eyes drift to the snowflake necklace. Her hands reach up, clasping her fingers around it as kindly as if it were a robin's egg.
Standing from the vanity, she folds her hands together, rubbing her fingers over her knuckles. She'll have to tell the servants quickly before one of them stumbles into her room and finds him.
She heads for the door passing the bed, but then pauses with her hand on the handle. She turns back, though — just once. With a bite of her lip, she approaches the bed. Leaning down, she brushes her fingers through his hair, then grazes them along his cheek.
Suddenly there's a knock on her door that as her clapping her hands over her mouth to keep from shrieking.
"Queen Elsa?"
Gods bless it, it's Kai. Elsa only has seconds to calm her speeding heart as she makes for the door. In those seconds, the steward knocks again.
"Queen Elsa?"
Elsa yanks the door open, putting on her best smile despite her urge to snarl. "Hi, yes." She clears her throat. "Good morning, Kai."
"Oh, sorry to wake you ma'am."
"No, no, no, no. You didn't." Elsa slips through the narrow opening and shuts the door behind her. "I've just – I've been up for hours. Did I miss anything?"
"Well, you weren't in your office this morning, and no claimed to have seen you leave –"
Good
"I was wondering if everything was alright?"
"Oh yes, everything is fine. But, um" – Elsa clears her throat, her hands fiddling with the handle of her door. – "I have a bit of a situation . . ."
Kai raises his brows and Elsa sags her shoulders with a sigh.
"I have Michael sleeping my bed, right now." Kai's eyes widen, but she holds up a finger. "There was an incident last night and his bed got ruined. I'm just letting him sleep here until it is fixed."
Suspicion still has the steward knitting his brows together. "Might I as," he clears his throat, "what happened exactly?"
Elsa's cheeks burn as she finally understands the meaning her words might've portrayed. Another aggravated sigh and she says, "He had a nightmare. And his magic manifested in a way that destroyed his sheets, possibly the mattress as well. He burned and sliced through them."
Relief seems to flood the steward's eyes, even as he tries to peek over her shoulder. As though he could see the man sleeping through her closed doors.
"So, just have some servants clean and remake his bed, even change the mattress if you have to. And he'll be back in his own chambers."
"If that is what you wish." Kai says. Elsa pinches her lips at the mischief in his tone.
"It is!"
Kai bows. "Very well, Your Majesty."
He takes his leave, but before he makes it four steps, Elsa calls, "Kai!" the steward turns around. "Is Anna awake?"
An understanding smile, and a breath of a laugh before he answers. "Of course not. But she was sleeping peacefully."
Elsa sighs with a ghost of a smile, looking towards the grandfather clock which reads ten in the morning now. She'd been asleep with Michael for nearly four hours. The thought warms her core.
Shaking her head again, Elsa heaves a sigh and hurries off to Anna's rooms.
Sure enough, Elsa knocks at least three times without any answer before slipping into her sister's room. Anna is asleep on her bed, her hair a messy blanket of orange-gold across her pillow. A line of drool trails all the way to the back of her neck, a small puddle gathered under her cheek. Her mouth is parted as she delicately snores.
Elsa can't help but chuckle as she leans on the edge of her sister's bed. "Psst, Anna." She whispers, gently shaking her sister's shoulder.
Anna instantly slurps up the trail of drool, Elsa cringing at the disgusting sound. "Yeah?" she whispers.
"Good morning." Elsa sings.
"Good . . . morning." Anna musters with a drowsy slur. She rolls onto her back and smacks her lips a few times, her tongue making a small snapping sound as it breaks from the roof of her mouth. Her eyes slowly blink open, settling on Elsa.
She gives a pained smile. "How're you feeling?"
"I'm okay." Anna rasps. "A little sore, but nothing compared to what it could've been."
Elsa stands and walks over to the console table where there's a pitcher and a couple of glasses on a silver tray. She pours Anna a glass before returning to the bed, her sister now sitting upright.
"What about Kristoff?" Elsa asks, climbing onto the bed, tucking her legs beneath her.
Anna takes a couple of heavy gulps before answering. "Same thing. A few scrapes and bruises, doctors assured me he doesn't have a concussion. We just need to take it easy for a little bit."
"How much do you need to take it easy?" Elsa asks. When Anna looks to her with confusion, Elsa cringes. "Your birthday party is in a couple of days."
Safely encased in Anna's fingers, she drops the cup into her lap with a heavy thump. "Oh, come on! I completely forgot about it! his whole trying-to-fight-for-our-lives thing is extremely exhausting." She falls back against her pillow, blowing a strand of hair out of her face. "Ugh, I don't want to celebrate for once. I just want to sleep."
"I wish we could, but it's too late to reschedule now."
"I know." Anna drawls. "Maybe we can just cut the party time short."
"I'm sure the villagers will understand. Besides, it would be nice to have something to celebrate with everything that's been going on."
"I guess." Her sister says with a shrug. Elsa motions her to hand her the glass, to which she refills. As she's in the middle of pouring, Anna asks, "How's Michael?"
"Good. The blood loss will take time to recover from — him having lost so much of it that he'll need to expend his energy on refilling its levels. With no magically endowed healer in Arendelle, it's his only option. He seems to be doing good with his injuries, among other things."
"As compared to what?"
Elsa slowly sets the pitcher down, holding the glass between her hands for a second. "I think Pabbie's visions might've gotten to him." Elsa mumbles quietly.
"How do you mean?" Anna asks, leaning forward in earnest.
Returning to the bed, Elsa hands her the glass. "He had a nightmare last night. Something about it must've riled his magic because he ended up burning and shredding the sheets, maybe even the comforter." Anna's eyes widen, resting the cup in her lap. "They were like, claws – claws of fire and ash. The tips of his fingers looked black."
"Were you there?"
Elsa nods. "I was walking down the hall earlier this morning when I smelled something burning. I barged in and found him near writhing. So, I let him sleep in my room."
"You what –?!"
Elsa holds out her palm to silence her sister. Perhaps it was a good thing she wasn't about to take a sip. "It was only for a few of hours; and he's still sleeping their now. At least until they fix his bed."
"Elsa, are you crazy?!"
"No, I don't think so. I was trying to help him. It was easier to have him stay with me than to wake the servants and explain to them what happened."
Anna sits there, pouting. Her fingernails drum against the glass, looking out the window and into the kingdom. After a moment, her eyes flick back to Elsa. The queen thought she saw something like understanding flicker in her sister's cerulean eyes. "You know what this could mean, if anyone finds out."
"Not like they aren't used to magic."
"I meant about them finding Michael in your bed."
"I've already told Kai what happened, and he'll send a couple of people to fix his bed and that's all. So long as no one else goes into my room, no one will ever know."
"You sure seem okay with this."
Elsa's gaze turns downward, a faraway look glazing over her eyes. "Understand, Anna, that I've seen parts of Michael that you haven't. And yesterday, that was only the beginning of what he may be capable of."
Her sister physically shivers, taking a sip from her glass. After a souple of swigs, she mumbles quietly, "I don't know how he does it."
"Does what?"
"You know what I mean," Anna snipes with a wave of her hand. "the whole battling, and the injuries, and the chaos all around. I've never seen anyone move like him; never seen anyone fight like that."
"Not even Kristoff?"
"Kristoff is a mountain man. He always came across as, durable, to me. Gritty and sturdy. When I look at Michael, the way I've seen him fight those, demons, and those draugr . . ." Elsa could've sworn she heard her sister pinch the words as she speaks. "You can't deny there's something more that he's not telling us."
"Is this you not trusting him again?" Elsa asks, more concerned than annoyed.
"No. No, he's long since proven that. It's just – there's something he's not telling us."
"He's not obligated to. It's his business."
"I know that." Anna grinds. "There's just something about him seems, different. And I know you've seen it too. Or have at least had the thought."
That she can't deny. She thought it was just some, connection that all magic-wielders have to one another. Even if her magic hadn't burrowed within him that night she healed him, there was something else that swirled behind those sapphire eyes. Something primal and unyielding.
"Maybe it's the reason why he fears his magic." She mutters. Anna blinks and finishes her second glass of water. Elsa pinches a piece of her skirt. "What is it about that, something that makes you nervous?"
Anna looks to her, her sister's brows knitting together. "I'm worried it's something he can't control. I'm worried that if something goes wrong, he'll really hurt himself, or . . . you."
"Does this have to do with what Pabbie said?"
Anna shakes her head. "I don't know, actually. It's just a, feeling."
Elsa stands and takes the glass to put back on the pitcher while Anna yawns with a long stretch.
As she heads for Anna's closet, she's surprised to hear her sister ask, "You really like him, don't you?"
Elsa whirls around with wide eyes. She blinks at Anna, her sister now out of bed, still stretching.
"What do you mean?"
Anna turns to her with a conspirator's grin. "Oh, don't play coy, Elsa. I know you like him."
Elsa bites her lip, her hand fiddling with the handle to Anna's closet. "We may have created a friendship throughout his time here, but –"
"He's been here for a little over a month, nearly two. It's understandable if your guys develop a relationship."
"I don't know what you're talking about." Elsa suddenly snipes, whirling and throwing open the closet doors.
"Oh, don't you?" Elsa clenches her teeth at the smile in Anna's words. She begins to browse through Anna's dresses until she feels her sister's hand on her shoulder. Elsa rolls her eyes as she turns, until she finds her sister's eyes soft – perhaps even glittering with love, excitement, and something else she can't name. "Elsa, I love you more than anything; and I couldn't be happier that you found someone."
Sucking on a tooth, Elsa says, "I thought you didn't like him."
"That was before." Anna says with a cringed smile. "After everything that's happened . . . after the way you screamed when he –"
"Anna," Elsa warns.
But her sister doesn't back down, her lips pouting and even stomping her foot like she used to do when they were little. "Elsa, I have never heard you scream like that before." She folds her arms, a smile slowly creeping its way back onto her lips. "I think you like him more than even you realize."
"Even if I did, I doubt he would even accept it."
"What –?"
"He's from the countryside of his own kingdom, living on the outskirts of the city. And suddenly I'm just going to throw him into a life of a court and politics and constant documents? I can't do that to him. I don't know if he could handle it; let alone even want it."
When she looks to Anna, the understanding etched on her sister's delicate features is near heartbreaking.
Kristoff started off as a humble Ice Harvester, and he seemed more than open and ready to enter their royal lifestyle. In fact, he almost seemed to want it. Neither of the sisters ever asked where he was from, only going off of what he told Anna during their journey to find her. Considering his open mind when entering their lavish lifestyle, the sisters deemed such information unnecessary. Kristoff has since spent more time at the castle than the apartment they bought him a block from the castle.
After a moment of silence, Anna gives a gentle smile. "He may be more open than you think, Elsa."
Elsa simply pretends to observe a couple of dresses in the princess's closet. "I don't know. I don't even know if he feels the same way. So let's just drop this, okay?"
Anna nods, lacing her fingers into Elsa's. "Course."
Elsa spares a smile before she runs her fingers through her hair. With a deep sighs, she suddenly says brightly, "How about you focus on what you're going to wear to your birthday. The royal tailors are going to track you down like hounds if you miss one more fitting." Elsa says with a pat on her sister's shin beneath the blanket.
The princess rolls her eyes and flops back onto her pillows. "Ugh, I'm too tired for this."
"It's a price of royalty." Elsa giggles. "Come on, let's have some breakfast and we begin our suffering together."