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lelitachay · 1 month ago

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Frozen fanfiction: Søsken

Summary: An accident in the North Mountain forces Elsa to spend several weeks in her brother’s apartment under Anna’s care. During that time, Anna realises there is more to Elsa than meets the eye. The truth about Elsa’s past comes to light after an unexpected family reunion, and both girls’ lives begin to fall apart when they realise Elsa wasn’t the only one with a big secret and a turbulent past.

Anna/Kristoff - Elsa - Family - Family drama - hurt/comfort - Modern AU - Elsa & Kristoff are adoptive brother and sister - Ice bros - Found family - Serious injuries - Mental health issues - Health issues - Frohana

Links:

Fanfiction.net - HERE AO3 - HERE

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Chapters 1 to 10 - Here Chapters 11 to 20 - Here Chapters 21 to 30 - Here Chapters 31 to 40 - Here Chapter 41 to 50 - Here Chapter 51 - Here Chapter 52 - Here Chapter 53 - Here Chapter 54 - Here Chapter 55 - Here Chapter 56 - Here Chapter 57 - Here

I'll stand by you

Marshall didn’t move for the next hour. He sat by her bedside, his hand cradling hers while his thumb ran idle strokes. He could tell sleep wasn’t coming easily— it hadn’t for days. She had told him one night she couldn’t, no matter how tired she felt. He’d reassured her it was normal. A frustrating part of healing. The more she tried to force it, the harder it became.

This time, it felt different. Her body had begun to relax somewhat, but every so often, her fingers tensed against his, her brows twitched and her breath hitched. When she opened her eyes, frustrated with herself, she didn’t pull away or ask him to leave. But they didn’t have the strength to say much else. He stayed by her side, watching her face twitch in pain every so often.

He wished he could take it all away. The pain. The heartache. Even the scars he was still pretending not to see. He wondered if she would ever confide in him about her past. It felt unlikely, given how much it clearly hurt her. Until then, he supposed it was best to keep pretending he only knew what she let him see.

When her breathing finally evened out, and he was certain she’d drifted off to sleep, Marshall drew in a careful breath. Staring at her face one last time, he slowly pulled his hand free and moved soundlessly toward the door, closing it gently behind him with a soft click.

The hallway was mostly dark and empty, and for that he was thankful. Pressing his back against the cool wall outside Elsa’s room, he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes, taking a moment to get himself together. He needed just one minute to regain his footing. But the familiar fire was already rising in his chest. That explosive, volatile part of himself that showed up when things felt out of his control. He was furious. At the people who had hurt her in her past. At himself for not doing more; for not helping her sooner. At Nielsen. At her family. At the whole damn situation.

He hated this part of himself, the one that threatened to take over without warning.

He brought a hand to his face, palm pressed against his mouth as if he could muffle the fury and violence that threatened to burst out. He stood still until the pounding in his chest dulled to something bearable.

The sound of footsteps around the corner pulled him back to reality and he straightened up immediately. Pushing himself off the wall, he pretended he had things under control.

“Marshall?” A familiar voice called his name. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping the loud voice hadn’t woken Elsa. The last thing he needed was for her to come to her senses while she was still alone.

He turned and saw Ingrid approaching, a clipboard tucked under one arm, one hand stuffed in her pocket.

“Well, I didn’t expect to find you here.” Her tone was still tinged with mischief, but there was a hesitation beneath it, like she wanted to be taken seriously this time. “You weren’t here when I made my round in the evening. Thought you might have taken Saturday night off.”

He didn’t reply. He wasn’t in the mood for conversation, especially not one that implied he should be anywhere else. Even his mother had tried to convince him to take the night off—gently, almost apologetically, as if she knew he’d refuse. Whatever Ingrid had to say didn’t worry him in the least.

Ingrid stepped closer, her brow furrowing slightly as she got a better look at his face. Her tone softened. “Are you alright?”

Marshall clenched his jaw and looked away. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” Ingrid replied without missing a beat. “You still lie like an eighteen-year-old.”

“Ingrid.” His voice was tight, a clear warning not to push past his limits.

She studied him for a moment, then let the teasing tone slip away. “I wasn’t trying to poke the bear,” she said quietly. “It’s just— I don’t like seeing you like this. Your girl will pull through; she’ll be okay.

“I’m not here for small talk,” he muttered.

“I know.” She glanced over her shoulder towards the nurse station. “I’ll be around if you need anything.”

When he didn’t reply, she gave him one last look and walked away.

Marshall waited till she was gone to lean back against the wall and let his head fall back with a dull thump. He stood there, breathing through the simmering rage, counting backward from ten. Again and again.

The plan was to go back into Elsa’s room once he had calmed down. He was more useful by her side than playing his paranoid game, but the chance was perfect. Ingrid had practically invited him to find her after all.

He cast one last glance at Elsa’s door and silently begged for her to stay asleep, then made his way to the nurse station.

Ingrid sat alone at the small desk, cluttered with papers and an open patient chart. She seemed lost in thought, her pen tapping lightly against a sheet she’d been writing on earlier. It took her a moment to notice him, and when she did, she turned his way with a soft smile—like she’d been waiting for him.

“Something wrong?” she asked, casually, though he caught the flicker of worry behind her eyes.

“What are you doing here?” Marshall asked, voice low in case another nurse showed up.

She blinked, then turned back to her chart. “Same thing I’ve always done in clinics and hospitals. I work here.”

“No,” he snapped, taking a step forward. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

She sighed and set the pen down. “I think you’re misinterpreting something.”

“You weren’t assigned to her,” he pressed. “Nielsen gave me a list. Your name wasn’t on it.”

“I’m filling in,” she replied, flatly. “One of the night nurses couldn’t make it. They asked me to cover.”

“Who?” he pressed.

She hesitated, just for a breath, but he saw it. “Ingrid. Who are you covering for?”

“Does it matter?” she deflected. “You’re acting like I’m some stranger. I work here, Marsh.”

“What nurse?” he demanded again. “Give me a name.”

Ingrid flipped through the folder, deliberately avoiding his eyes. “I’ve got things to do. Either tell me what you need, or let me work.”

“Stop dodging the question,” he said, his voice rising with frustration. “Either tell me who you’re filling in for or why you’re really here.”

With a resigned breath, Ingrid closed the folder. “The official line is that Frida called in sick.”

He narrowed his eyes. “And the unofficial?”

She hesitated for a moment. “She requested to be taken off your girl’s case,” she said more quietly. “She’s asked multiple times. Each one was denied.”

Ingrid offered a small, careful smile, meant to say more than she was actually saying. “I’m not here to cause harm, Marshall.”

Not knowing what to think anymore, Marshall took a step back. He didn’t trust himself to keep the conversation going without snapping. “I need to talk to Nielsen,” he muttered, already turning towards the door.

“You’re letting it control you again,” Ingrid said behind him before he could leave.

Marshall froze mid-step. Then, slowly, he turned to face her. “That’s low.”

“And doubting me isn’t?” she said, folding her arms. “Look at yourself. You’re a mess, dear.”

“I’m not—” He stopped himself, jaw clenched. He shook his head, as if trying to push the rising fire back down. “You don’t get to throw that in my face.”

“I’ve seen you throw your life away before. Don’t let your temper ruin what you have now.”

The words struck deep. He looked at her for a long, heavy moment, as shame crawled up and settled beside the anger. Then, without another word, he turned on his heel and walked off.

Back in Elsa’s room, Marshall let out a relieved sigh when he saw she hadn’t stirred. She was still curled slightly to the side, her face more peaceful than it had been all night. He moved closer, careful not to wake her, and sat back down in the chair. Watching her breathe calmed something inside him, helping him bury the last of the fury that had nearly consumed him. He could feel his body aching, stiff from tension and exhaustion.

Outside, the first light of morning spilled through the blinds, casting pale lines across the room.

---

The hallway outside Elsa’s room was quiet when Anna arrived. She walked softly, careful not to disturb the other patients. She hadn’t seen many people in this part of the ward over the past few days. She supposed Elsa had been deliberately placed in the farthest room—a logical precaution, considering her powers could drop the temperature in an instant.

She hadn’t planned to come so early. Kristoff had shown up at her parents’ house, waking her and Idunn. For a moment, she’d felt her world collapse. But before she could imagine the worst, he explained something about a meeting. It seemed to be important enough that both her in-laws were needed, and that Gerda wouldn’t be able to watch over Elsa that morning. He hadn’t offered many details, but he didn’t have to. It was enough to know that someone had to be there, and Marshall might need rest, breakfast, or simply a break from sitting at her sister’s bedside all night.

Anna gently pushed open the door and peeked inside, hoping not to wake Elsa if she’d finally managed some sleep. She knew how rare it was for her to rest more than a few hours at a time.

The room was still dim, lit only by the soft gray light filtering through the window. Elsa lay curled under the blanket, her face pale, dark circles beneath her eyes, but peaceful, for once. Marshall sat beside her, hunched forward in the chair, his forearm resting on the edge of the mattress. His head was lowered, turned away from the door, resting on his arm. His fingers were tracing lazy, almost thoughtless strokes across the back of Elsa’s hand.

Anna paused at the door, surprised to catch him unaware of his surroundings for once. Part of her wanted to leave and give him a little more time, but knew she’d regret not taking advantage of the rare tender scene unfolding in front of her.

She stepped inside, quietly closing the door behind her. Mischief drew on her face before she spoke. “Should I come back later, or…?”

Marshall flinched, straightening abruptly. A flush crept up his neck as he pulled his hand back in one swift motion and turned to look at her.

“Sorry,” Anna said, offering a fake, apologetic smile. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you two.”

He ran a hand through his hair in a half-useless attempt to smooth it and look more presentable. “She’s asleep.”

“I can see that,” Anna replied, her smile widening. “It still feels like I walked into a private moment.”

Marshall exhaled softly and rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to Elsa. He seemed slightly annoyed, trying to keep it cool, but Anna noticed the faint shade of pink creeping up his neck again.

She watched him quietly, her teasing softening. The lines around his eyes were deeper this morning, the bags darker.

“Long night?” she asked as she walked further into the room, careful not to wake her sister.

He gave a vague hum in response, and she didn’t push for more. Part of her wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

Anna reached the bed and gently touched Elsa’s arm with the back of her hand. The light contact made Elsa’s brow twitch, so she withdrew it carefully.

Lowering her voice, she offered, “I can stay if you need. Gerda and Kai are at some meeting. I figured you might want to eat something. Or maybe go home and rest.”

Marshall didn’t answer right away. His eyes stayed fixed on the floor as he shook his head. “It’s okay. I don’t mind waiting for Gerda.”

Anna gave a soft sigh and moved to sit on the sofa. They could both stay and keep Elsa company, then. She glanced at Marshall, noting how his gaze kept drifting back to her sister, despite his attempts not to make it obvious.

She folded her arms and murmured, half under her breath, “You’re making it really hard for people to believe there’s nothing going on between you two.”

Marshall looked up, unimpressed. “Are you always this talkative when you wake up? I feel sorry for Kristoff.”

Anna grinned, knowing he was purposely avoiding the topic. “Elsa gets a free pass after what she’s been through—I won’t start teasing her now… But I don’t see why you’re still pretending. She came home wearing your clothes the night she got sick, after all.”

She wasn’t necessarily trying to fluster him. Maybe just giving him something else to think about that would ease the tension in his shoulders. When Marshall suddenly stood up, however, Anna froze, wondering if she’d pushed too far.

He just walked to the door. Before opening it, he glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “I’m going to grab a coffee. You want one?”

Relieved he hadn’t taken things the wrong way, she nodded. “Yes.” She let out a breath. “Thank you. Milky and with sugar, please.”

A small smile tugged at his lips, then he finally said, “Black with no sugar, it is.”

She caught the glint in his eye as he left the room and understood she’d just have to drink his bitter bitter revenge.

---

The tension in Landvik’s office was thick enough to cut with a scalpel. The grey morning light filtered through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the polished floor. A thin layer of fog clung to the glass, barely obscuring the ward buildings across the courtyard—one of which held Elsa.

Kai sat rigidly in the chair closest to the door, arms crossed over his chest. The lines on his face seemed deeper today, and he hadn’t said a word since entering the room. Beside him, Gerda sat with her hands folded tightly in her lap. Her expression was composed, but her restless eyes betrayed her unease.

At the center of the room, in the seat nearest the desk, sat Agdar. His jaw was clenched, both arms braced on the armrests, trying to maintain composure as he listened to Haugen.

“Until we receive another form of payment,” he said carefully, “I’m afraid we’ll have to place her care on temporary hold beyond the end of the week.”

“You’re telling me the clinic didn’t receive the payment?” Agdar asked.

“That’s correct,” Haugen said, laying a balance sheet on the desk. “The transfer authorization was revoked. I sent my secretary to follow up in person—I know you’re a busy man after all. The bank refused to process the funds.”

“There must be some mistake,” Agdar muttered, though the flicker of doubt in his voice betrayed the certainty he would have liked to show.

“There’s no mistake,” Haugen replied smoothly, glancing toward the window with faint satisfaction. “The funds came from your company’s account, didn’t they? If your board intervened—”

“They weren’t supposed to,” Agdar snapped. “This was a personal decision. One I have full authority to make.”

“A personal decision made with company funds?” Haugen raised an eyebrow. “I imagine the board might see that differently. Not that I’m here to tell you how to run your business, of course.”

Kai shifted in his seat, interrupting their conversation, “Elsa’s care is still continuing, isn’t it? I mean, this is just a misunderstanding.”

“Rest assured,” Landvik cut in quickly, “Miss Bjorgman is receiving appropriate treatment. Everything’s covered under the previous authorization we simply—”

“But unless another payment is arranged soon,” Haugen said plainly, “we won’t be able to continue under those terms. Of course, her recovery is our top priority. It’s just a matter of paperwork and we’ll have another solution ready.”

“You mean she’ll be discharged,” Gerda said quietly, fingers tightening around the edge of her coat, trying to steady her hands. “And transferred to a public hospital, right?”

Silence fell. But Haugen’s smile said everything.

“We would never deny her treatment, Mrs. Bjorgman,” he said smugly. “We’ll simply arrange another healthcare plan for her.”

Agdar slid the balance sheet back across the desk, cutting in before the conversation went further. “There won’t be a need for that. The board doesn’t speak for me. It's nothing but a misunderstanding.”

Haugen smiled. “I believe they do.”

“Excuse me?”

“As I understand it, a board exists to protect the company’s—and the investors’—best interests. Is that not correct?”

Agdar narrowed his eyes. “As you yourself said, you're not in a position to tell me how to run my company. The money I am lending this family is mine. The payment will go through. Everything will be sorted out by Tuesday.

“I care about transparency,” Haugen replied, still calm. “I wouldn’t want the clinic’s reputation compromised by a mismanaged transaction.”

“I believe Mr. Arendelle knows what he’s doing,” Kai growled. His tone was a warning. Low, firm, and unmistakable.

Haugen didn’t flinch. “I’m only laying out the facts. If we’re to continue housing her here—now at our expense—it’s only natural to ensure everything is in order.”

“There will be a meeting tomorrow morning,” Agdar said. “Everything will be resolved by Tuesday.”

“Tuesday is perfect,” Landvik agreed quickly with a tight smile. "I'll make sure her treatment continues as agreed."

Haugen leaned back, the faintest hint of mock admiration in his voice. “Well, now that's how you do business. You're clearly a man with a generous heart, Mr. Arendelle. I haven’t heard of many businessmen covering the full medical costs of a young woman just like that. May I ask, what does she represent to you?”

“She represents nothing,” Gerda said sharply. “She’s our daughter. And Agdar is an old friend of the family.”

Haugen’s smile widened. “I never suggested otherwise. I’m only curious. ArenCo has built a reputation in the technological and research field, and Ms. Bjorgman… Well, she is a medical mystery.”

He said it flatly, without judgment, but the words landed wrong. They coiled in the room, making Agdar feel ill with the weight of what was being implied. Before he could respond, Kai stood up and formally requested the meeting come to a close—as if it were obvious everything had been said.

---

The hallway outside the Landvik’s office felt cold and hostile when they stepped out. It wasn’t the kind of stillness Gerda was used to inside hospitals. It felt different. Unkind.

She walked with calm, measured steps, pretending the conversation inside hadn’t shaken her. Her hands stayed tucked deep in her coat pockets, hiding the faint tremor she didn’t want Kai to notice. Her fingers closed around a soft, familiar keychain nestled there. The yarn had worn smooth over the years, the little braid frayed at the ends where it had started to unravel. Strands of blue and pale gray twisted unevenly, one side tighter than the other, the knot at the end clumsy and a little bulky.

It wasn’t perfect. But it had been the first gift Elsa had ever given her.

Gerda had found it one morning, left on the edge of the kitchen counter, half-hidden beneath her purse as if Elsa hadn’t been sure she’d want it. Now, eight years later, Gerda found herself clutching it tightly, thumb tracing the uneven ridges of the braid whenever she was anxious.

“Gerda,” Agdar called her name, pulling her back to the present. “I’ll fix this. By Tuesday. You don’t need to worry.” His voice was low and careful as he tried to reassure her he had things under control.

She nodded once. She couldn’t say she trusted his word, but she had no other option. They were in too deep, and Elsa wasn’t ready to go home. At least not yet. She needed one more week. Or two. She made a mental note to talk to Nielsen later, explain the mess they were in, and see if there wasn’t a way she could bring her daughter home and care for her herself.

“I need to see Elsa,” she said after a moment, not really wanting to discuss anything that had to do with Agdar or his business. All she needed was for him to pay Haugen and buy them some time.

Kai took a step closer. “Gerda, are you—?”

“I’m okay, Honey.” She smiled, reassuringly, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Elsa must be awake by now.”

Leaving her husband to deal with Agdar. Gerda made her way to Elsa's room.

She hadn’t slept well the night before. Kristoff’s words kept echoing in her mind, reminding her she might have been doing more harm than good by hiding things. It wasn't that she hadn't really thought about the consequences of hiding the truth from her daughter before; she simply hadn’t expected Elsa to carry so much guilt without even knowing what had happened. It hurt to realize her daughter’s first instinct was always to blame herself.

She needed to tell her. Even if it shattered what little peace Elsa had managed to find after the confusion wore off. Even if it made her feel like she was back at square one. Dragging this out wouldn’t protect her anymore. Not if she was already tormenting herself with the little pieces of information she had gathered and didn’t fully comprehend.

There were too many half-truths hanging over Elsa’s head. They were building up, pressing down and threatening to break the trust they had once built between the two. If Gerda wanted to help her heal, she knew she had to start by sharing more. No matter how much it hurt, it was best to take one step at a time and let her into this new reality carefully.

Perhaps letting her know only a reduced, trusted, group of people knew about her would help her understand she was under good care—even if Gerda wasn’t so sure about that.

They had already spoken about rehabilitation, and that was one less thing on the list. Elsa still didn’t understand how long recovery might really take, but at least she’d accepted she needed to take things slow. Gerda had also explained the necessity of trusting Nielsen and the nurses, even if Elsa’s discomfort around the clinic staff hadn’t eased. Now came the hardest part: the weeks Elsa had spent unconscious, the arrangements made and the risks taken.

She couldn’t bring herself to tell Elsa the conditions they were under, though she knew she couldn’t keep everything from her anymore. Maybe if Elsa understood that only a small, trusted group knew about her condition, she’d feel a little safer. Even if Gerda wasn’t entirely sure of that herself.

Just thinking about the conversation made her stomach twist. No matter where she started, it felt like trying to climb the North Mountain in a snowstorm. But she had to start somewhere, and the accident was the one thing that couldn’t wait. She was tired of keeping her distance just to avoid Elsa seeing the injury. At least her hand was no longer wrapped. The burn was healing now, leaving behind only a rather small scar.

Peeking into Elsa’s room, Gerda let out a quiet breath, relief softening her features. Both Anna and Marshall were there, still keeping her daughter company.

Elsa sat upright against a pile of pillows, eyes fixed on the folded blanket draped across her lap. She hadn’t spoken much since waking, barely a few words when necessary. Gerda had once thought it was because of Nielsen’s or the physiatrist’s presence. Now that she got to see her in her friends’ presence, she realised the silence seemed to remain no matter who came by. Elsa was far away, locked in herself; her quiet reminding Gerda too much of the little girl she’d once taken home.

At least now, she didn’t have to be alone in that silence. Anna and Marshall filled the space with something warmer—something familiar. And hopefully, something safe.

Marshall sat beside her, angled slightly towards Elsa, forearms resting on his knees. Anna stood by the bedside table, adjusting a tray and setting a fresh glass of water within reach. She spoke softly, animatedly, about something she’d read once about water. The sound of her voice, light and easy, brought a small, unexpected smile to Gerda’s lips.

Let Anna fill the silence with mundane chatter, hoping the normalcy of it might bring her sister some comfort.

At the sound of Gerda’s quiet laugh, all three looked up. Anna being the first to greet her. “Gerda,” she said, surprised but gentle. “We didn’t see you there.”

Marshall stood, offering her a short nod. He was always polite, always respectful—but there was still hesitation in his manner. With Kai, there was tension. With her, there was uncertainty. Some days he felt comfortable enough to talk and confide in her even. Other days, he didn’t seem to know how to behave.

Gerda wished that would change. She wished he didn’t feel the need to walk on eggshells around the family—especially not if he was becoming an important part of Elsa’s life.

“Thank you both for keeping Elsa company,” Gerda said softly, though her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Anna glanced at Elsa, then back at Gerda. “Do you want us to...?” she asked, gesturing to herself, then Marshall and the door.

Gerda gave a small nod. “If you don’t mind. I’d like to spend the rest of the morning with her.”

Elsa didn’t look up, but Gerda saw her stiffen. She couldn’t tell if it was anticipation or dread. Not knowing hurt more than she wanted to admit. But after keeping her distance all week, afraid Elsa would notice her injury, she couldn’t expect things to feel easy now.

Elsa's posture stiffened, even though she didn’t look up. Gerda couldn’t tell if it was anticipation or dread. And not knowing hurt more than she wanted to admit. But after keeping her distance for so many days, afraid Elsa would notice her injury, she couldn’t expect things to feel easy now.

Anna glanced at Marshall, who nodded once and stepped towards the door. Before leaving, he looked at Elsa and promised her to return in the evening.

Gerda offered him a grateful smile. She didn’t know how or when their friendship had begun, but she was thankful for it.

She waited until the door clicked shut behind them before crossing the room. Her legs felt weak beneath her. She paused at the foot of the bed, one hand resting on it. She searched Elsa’s eyes, but Elsa turned her attention to the window, her eyes glassy and jaw clenched tight.

Gerda didn’t rush her. She gave her a moment, just in case she wanted to speak first. But Elsa stayed silent.

“I hope I didn’t interrupt,” Gerda said gently, a small smile tugging at her lip. “Anna seemed... entertained enough.”

Elsa gave the faintest shake of her head.

Gerda watched her for a moment longer, then sat down on the edge of the bed. The weight of everything Gerda needed to say pressed on her chest suddenly, and she wasn’t sure how to start the conversation.

“Will the physician come today?” Elsa asked.

“Physiatrist,” corrected Gerda, gently. With a smile, she placed her hand gently on Elsa’s knee. “Not today, just you and me this morning. No one else.”

Elsa didn’t respond. Her eyes looked at Gerda briefly before they drifted to her hand. Slowly, her brow furrowed.

Gerda followed her eyes and felt the air shift between them. Her hand twitched slightly, but she didn’t move to hide the scar that peeked out from beneath her sleeve.

“Did I—” Elsa’s voice caught. “Did I do that to you?”

Gerda didn’t answer right away. Instead, she reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her daughter’s face.

Elsa flinched.

“Nothing serious happened to me, dear,” Gerda whispered. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”

Elsa shook her head, pulling slightly away. “I didn’t mean to—”

“I know.”

“I didn’t—”

“I know, Elsa.” Gerda’s voice didn’t waver. “I’d never blame you.”

Gerda touched her cheek then, soft and steady. Elsa trembled, but didn’t pull away. Her eyes brimming with tears.

“I don’t want to do it again,” she said, voice hollow as she dropped her gaze. “I don’t want to keep hurting you. Or anyone.”

Gerda was tired of seeing her like this—hurting, blaming herself for things beyond her control. A wave of helplessness surged through her, and she had to blink her own tears away.

“You won’t hurt me.”

“I did.”

Gerda’s brow furrowed. “Elsa—”

“I don’t remember how,” Elsa whispered. “But it doesn’t matter. I still did it. It’s a matter of time until I lose control and I hurt you a third time.”

“You weren’t well,” Gerda said. “You didn’t know what was happening—”

“But I did.” Tears threatened to fall again, as her voice broke but she blinked them back furiously. “I always end up hurting the people I care about.”

Gerda let her hand fall, heart pounding. She wanted to argue. To tell her she was wrong. But she could see the cracks. She was barely holding together.

“Sweetheart—” she began again.

“I don’t know how to fix it.” Elsa’s fingers clenched the blanket tighter. “I want to. I want to so badly. But I don’t know how to make it stop. I don’t know how to be normal.”

Gerda couldn’t hold back any longer. She wrapped her arms around Elsa, holding her tightly—urgently—as though trying to keep her from slipping over the edge.

Elsa resisted. Her hands pushed once, but they lacked strength. Then she gave in. Hesitantly, she sank into her mother’s arms.

Gerda tightened her embrace. She rocked her gently, like she used to when Elsa was younger.

Elsa’s trembling fingers clutched at her sweater. Her breath hitched. And then she broke, quietly letting Gerda try to fix it for her.

---

Elsa’s breathing slowed, just barely, as she curled against her mother’s shoulder. The warmth of Gerda’s embrace should have soothed her. It should have made things easier.

But something gnawed at her.

That pressure.

The pressure that had lived inside her for days now. It was silent and constant, like a storm that wouldn’t break. The more she allowed herself to feel, the more suffocating it became.

Elsa stiffened, the realisation hitting her all at once. The only reason her powers weren’t spiraling was because something wasn’t right. She had sensed they were behaving strangely, restrained in a way she couldn’t explain.

She couldn’t believe she had let herself relax around her mother when she knew her powers couldn’t be trusted.

At this realisation and without warning, she pulled back, her body trembling as she pushed herself out of the embrace.

Gerda’s hold loosened instantly, “What is it? Does anything hurt?”

Elsa couldn’t meet her eyes. She folded her hands over her stomach, hiding them. “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

Gerda reached for her, but Elsa recoiled, panic flashing across her face like lightning.

“No. Don’t! Please,” she begged. “I don’t think I should touch you right now.”

Gerda stayed still, wanting to respect her wishes. “Elsa, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” Elsa snapped. Her breath caught and she dropped her voice immediately. “You don’t understand—” She looked down. “It’s too quiet.”

Gerda tilted her head, not following.

“The ice,” Elsa said, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s pushing, but something feels different. Something’s wrong.”

Slowly, she pressed her palm against the blanket, bracing for the familiar tingle. There was nothing. She should feel relieved it wasn’t controlling her for once, but it didn’t feel right. The unnatural stillness felt wrong. It made her anxious in a way she couldn’t explain.

“It’s not me holding it back.” Her eyes met Gerda’s, wide and frightened. “I don’t know what’s happening. It’s still there, I can feel it crawling under my skin, but I don’t know when it’s going to snap.”

“Elsa—”

“I mean it,” she insisted, voice rising again. “Please, you have to understand. It’s not safe. I don’t know what it’ll do the next time I fall asleep or panic or—”

Gerda reached up slowly, her hand barely brushing her cheek to dry her tears. “Stop, sweetheart. Just breathe.”

Elsa flinched at the touch.

“You are not dangerous, dear.”

Elsa wanted so badly to believe her. She wanted to lean back in. To close her eyes and pretend none of it mattered.

Gerda’s eyes softened. “It’s under control. I need you to trust me.”

Elsa blinked. “What do you mean?”

Gerda hesitated.

And that was enough for her to understand. “It’s not me,” she whispered.

Gerda looked away for the briefest second. Then nodded. “It’s a medicine. Just a little something in your IVs. It’s helping regulate your system, enough to keep things... calm.”

Elsa didn’t speak. Her throat closed up, and for a moment, she thought she might be sick.

Just a little pinprick. There’ll be no more…

That old voice inside her whispered it like it had never left. She felt caged, like a dangerous thing too unstable to trust. But she didn’t let it show. Only her hands betrayed her, curled into fists against her gown, fingernails biting into her palms.

“I see,” she said at last.

Gerda flinched, guilt flashing across her face. Somehow, that made it worse. Like she understood how much this would hurt and still agreed to it.

The silence between them stretched long and brittle, like ice over a deep lake thin enough to crack if one of them moved too quickly.

“It’s just temporary,” Gerda said gently. “To keep you safe.”

Elsa wanted to believe her. But fear had become a reflex—etched deep into her bones. She didn’t trust her voice, didn’t trust the frantic pulse pounding beneath her skin. Her chest burned with the effort to stay contained, to keep the panic buried.

She needed to believe her. She would hold on to that one thread and see if it held.

---

I feel like I’ve been editing this chapter for over a week, phew!

Anyway, a new chapter! And I’m excited about this one. Some parts of these scenes have been written for over six months. They were waiting in a dusty folder to see the light of day. I had to adapt them a bit; some other scenes are completely new. A lot more things than I originally intended happened in this chapter. Especially towards the end. Even I was surprised by Elsa and Gerda’s conversation.

Thank you all for your reviews and comments. I hope you like this chapter and continue to enjoy this story. Let me know what you think of the chapter itself, the characters or anything else that called your attention. I love reading your thoughts.

Also, I was planning to post this chapter on Sunday, as a small gift for “friends’ day” here in my country. But since it was friends’ day I spent all Saturday night and Sunday day out… which might surprise you but doesn’t help with my writing in the least. Go figure.

I hope you accept this little belated gift and enjoy it!

Take care and read you soon!

---

Tag time:

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As usual, let me know if I need to stop tagging you. Take care!

#søsken #sosken #frozen fanfiction #frozen fanfic #elsa #anna #marshall #marshmallow #frozen #Gerda #Kai #Agdar #chapter 58

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lelitachay · 1 month ago

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I loved this Elsa! Samantha really captured Elsa's struggle.

Samantha Barks as Elsa

FROZEN THE MUSICAL GIFS [5 / ∞]

#elsa #frozen the musical

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lelitachay · 1 month ago

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Frozen fanfiction: Søsken

Links:

Fanfiction.net - HERE AO3 - HERE

Tumblr -

Find comfort in pain

By the time Kristoff reached his parents’ house, the clock had already struck midnight, and his fingers were stiff from the cold. Maybe he’d been too quick to blame Elsa’s powers earlier. Perhaps the weather had been cold enough to chill her room on its own. He stopped in front of the familiar porch, where the glow of its light cut through the darkness, a sign that his parents were still awake.

He hesitated, wondering if it was worth disturbing the old couple at this hour. Then again, maybe the porch light had simply been left on by mistake, forgotten in the haze of exhaustion that had become part of them over the past few weeks. He massaged one of his shoulders, feeling the tension settle in with a weight that seemed heavier now that he had to talk to them about Elsa’s mental state. With a steadying breath, he made up his mind. Even if they were already asleep, at least he could crash in his old bedroom and speak to Gerda before she left for the hospital in the early morning.

To his surprise, the house was not only lit but warm, the scent of something faint and herbal lingered in the air. It was safe to bet Gerda was awake brewing some tea. He found himself wishing she wasn’t. If she was up this late, it meant something was keeping her mind restless too. Still, he couldn’t really blame her, not when he hadn’t managed a full night’s sleep in weeks himself.

He was taking off his coat when voices from the other room caught his attention.

"I won't. There’s no reason for me to give that man a minute of my life. I'll stay with Elsa.”

He heard his mother’s voice. She sounded tired and somewhat annoyed, like she’d said the same thing too many times already.

“Nielsen said he can't be there, Gerda. I just want someone who understands about these things. Just in case.” Kai sounded just as tired. Proving whatever they were discussing had clearly dragged on far too long.

With a tired sigh, Kristoff paused before he entered the kitchen. He would’ve rather found them asleep, and not in the middle of an argument. Moments like this always brought back a quiet, painful thought. More than once he wondered whether there were days they regretted adopting him and Elsa. No matter how much love they had given, it was undeniable that their lives had changed the moment they walked into their lives.

“I won’t be entertaining Haugen,” Gerda said sharply. “That sick man is playing with all of us.”

"And what would you have me do? Refuse? We need the money to keep Elsa safe whether you like it or not."

Kristoff didn’t like where this was going. He knew they were both speaking from fear, not anger, but it didn’t make it easier to hear. Wanting to help ease the tension, he stepped into the kitchen.

He had barely opened his mouth to greet his parents when Gerda continued.

“You really believe sitting through another one of his meetings is going to change anything? We already know what he wants, and it has nothing to do with Elsa’s well-being. He’s curious. Curious about Elsa. Curious about why Agnarr Arendelle is paying for her treatment.”

“I don’t like it either,” Kai said, there was a quiet strain in his father’s voice. “But if we refuse, they’ll see it as resistance. That won’t help Elsa.”

Not wanting to hear another word of it, Kristoff cleared his throat—loud enough to make them both turn toward him.

"Am I interrupting something?" he asked when met his gaze.

"Kristoff," Gerda said, her expression immediately softening. "We weren’t expecting you."

Kai rubbed a hand over his face. "You picked a great time to walk in."

Kristoff gave a weary smile. "Yeah, I can tell… What’s going on?"

Slouching into a chair, Kai exhaled heavily. “Haugen’s requested another meeting. This time, he says it’s about the payment. Something with the bank, or… I don’t know. He claims he needs to meet Agnarr in person to settle it.”

“He wants to meet Agnarr. That’s it. There’s nothing else to discuss,” Gerda said, turning her back to them as she poured herself a cup of tea.

Kristoff frowned, the unease in his chest growing. He didn’t want to believe Haugen would request Agdar’s presence just for the sake of meeting with him. Though the more he thought about it, he preferred that to be the case, something wrong with the payment seemed a lot more concerning.

“Settle it?” he repeated, suddenly alert. “I thought everything was taken care of. Elsa’s safe, isn’t she?"

Kai nodded, trying to appease him. "There’s some issue with how the payments have been processed. Haugen says he wants to clear it up directly with Agdar, but it shouldn’t affect anything—so long as they meet sometime this week.”

“There’s no reason for me to be in that meeting, yet your father keeps insisting,” Gerda cut in, turning her focus to Kristoff now, her voice tight with frustration. She wanted him to understand, not just the situation, but the reason she wasn’t okay with taking part in the meeting.

“I met with Agnarr today,” Kai continued, ignoring his wife. “We talked about it and agreed to meet Haugen tomorrow morning. We want either Nielsen or Gerda to be there in case Haugen tries to steer the conversation towards Elsa’s treatment.”

Gerda leaned against the counter, arms crossed tightly over her chest. “I’m not leaving Elsa alone just in case, Kai.”

Kristoff ran a hand through his hair. The entire thing felt off. But what choice did they have? They couldn’t simply refuse, and Kai was right in wanting either Nielsen or Gerda present with them. At least someone would be able to push back if Haugen tried anything.

“Perhaps we could ask Marshall to stay an hour or two after his shift,” Kristoff said quietly. “He came around eleven tonight.”

“He was late again?” Kai asked, his voice raising.

“I asked him to.” His tone was definite, no place for arguments. He was tired of going in circles with his father over the mountaineer.

Gerda pressed her lips together, already sensing where this would lead. If she let them keep going, it would end in another argument. She raised her hand dismissively. “Enough of this. It’s late. We don’t need to waste any more energy talking about Haugen. Ask one of Agdar’s lawyers to be present, it might put the man in his place. What’s the point of dragging them into this mess if we’re not going to use them?”

“Gerda, please,” Kai said wearily, like it was a path they’d already walked too many times.

“We kept her safe for years,” Gerda said, stopping him cold. “All for nothing, it seems. In less than a month, over ten people have found out about her powers. Friends. Foes. It’s only a matter of time before this spirals out of control if we keep trusting everyone around her.”

Kai sighed. He didn’t want to argue, but her words struck a chord. “It was a matter of time, wasn’t it? I mean… two accidents in six months. She hasn’t exactly been careful, Gerda. This has been coming for a while.”

“Being careful means hiding, doesn’t it?” Kristoff snapped. He hated what his father was implying. Elsa had made mistakes, he wouldn’t deny it; but the people who found out were her sister and the one man who hadn’t thought twice about staying by her side every night. It wasn’t carelessness. It was only logical they’d find out eventually. It meant Elsa was finally letting people in. “Living isolated from everything and everyone? Is that what you wanted for her?”

“That's not what I mean.”

“Isn’t it?” Kristoff’s voice was sharp now. “Because that sure looked like the plan when you kept her hidden from the rest of the family.”

Kai dragged a hand down his face with a sigh. “I already explained this—”

“You didn’t even give her the chance to prove your brothers wrong,” Kristoff cut in. His voice trembled with restrained anger. “She could’ve shown them who she really is.” He was hurt by his uncles and aunt, but even more hurt at Kai for thinking their only choice was to keep Elsa away. “I won’t argue that Elsa’s better off without them. But hiding her from the world still feels wrong.”

“Kristoff,” Kai snapped, frustration rising. “What did you want us to do? Let her meet them just to feel like an outsider? To watch her get dismissed by the very people she should be calling family? I’d rather help her stay hidden than see her go through that kind of heartache.”

“Or you could've given her a choice.”

“What makes you think we didn't?” Kai snapped back.

Kristoff opened his mouth to reply, but closed it as soon as the words sinked in. Slowly, he turned to his mother, looking for reassurance, or at least an explanation.

“It was her choice, dear,” Gerda said quietly. “She didn’t want to meet them either.”

“You told her?” His fists tightened. He tried to control the urge to lash out, but disbelief boiled in his chest. “Why—what were you thinking?”

“We had to,” Gerda replied, firm but understanding. “You traveled there every summer. You talked non-stop about your cousins.”

“We sat her down to talk when she turned eighteen,” Kai added. “You were planning a visit to your Uncle Nikolai that winter.”

Gerda’s expression softened, a sad smile tugging at her lips. “She already suspected it. All we did was confirm what she’d felt for a long time.” She kept her gaze low, as if replaying that moment in her mind. “We offered her the chance to meet them. To prove them wrong, like you said. We would’ve travelled by car—the four of us.”

“Not getting to know them was her decision,” Kai said more gently now. “She saw no point in meeting people who had already made up their minds about her.”

Kristoff leaned on the back of a chair. Sadness and a strange sense of guilt taking over. “Why didn’t she tell me?” he asked, voice low as he turned to Gerda. “To find out something like this… It must’ve crushed her.”

Gerda gave a small, sad nod. “She didn’t want you to get caught in the middle. She knew how much they meant to you. She wanted you to have a whole family.”

“She’s my whole family…”

“I know, dear.” Gerda stepped closer and gently laid a hand on his shoulder, a soft touch meant to comfort, though the ache in his chest remained.

The three of them stayed silent for a while. Kai was the first to break it, excusing himself. He needed to meet Agnarr at his office in the early morning before they both headed to the hospital.

Kristoff nodded, bidding him goodnight. Then he sat down at the table with a sigh. He expected Gerda to follow, but to his surprise, she walked over to the fridge instead. She opened it and began sorting through the leftovers. Her movements were slower than usual, probably more tired than she let on.

"You haven’t eaten, have you?" she asked, glancing at him over her shoulder.

Kristoff hesitated, then shrugged. "I grabbed something earlier."

Gerda scoffed softly. "That means no."

She pulled out a plate with some tuna and vegetables from their dinner earlier. “Eat,” she said, placing it in front of him.

Kristoff watched her carefully as she picked up her mug and sat beside him. His brows furrowed as he studied her more closely. He’d spent the entire afternoon with Elsa, staying well into the evening until Marshall arrived to take over for the night. Gerda should’ve had a break. She should’ve rested. But looking at her now, she seemed more worn down than he’d have hoped.

Part of him wanted to talk about what Elsa had said. The other part couldn’t bear the thought of burdening his mother with yet another heavy choice.

“How’s Anna?” Gerda asked, her tone lighter, deliberately steering the conversation towards something other than their recent argument.

“She’s fine,” Kristoff replied, taking a bite. “She’s staying at her parents’ tonight. It’s been a while since she visited.”

Gerda hummed and nodded, then eyed him curiously. “So, what brings you here at this hour?”

Kristoff paused mid-bite, realizing he didn’t have a simple answer. He set the fork down, suddenly losing his appetite. Rubbing the back of his neck before meeting Gerda’s gaze.

“I came because of Elsa.”

Gerda’s expression softened, but there was a flicker of concern in her eyes. "What about her?"

Kristoff hesitated for a second, searching for the right words. "She asked me something earlier," he said, his voice quieter now. "She wanted to know if you were okay."

Gerda’s face didn’t change at first, but her fingers tightened slightly around the mug. She didn’t speak, so Kristoff continued.

“I didn’t know what to tell her. I tried to— I didn’t lie.”

Gerda sighed and placed the cup down gently. "Kristoff—"

"She’s not okay," he interrupted. "She’s exhausted all the time. She’s afraid. The medicine keeps making her sick— you’ve seen it. And on top of all that, she’s wondering if there’s something wrong with you. She didn’t say it outright, but I think she’s blaming herself. And no one’s telling her the truth.”

Gerda pressed her lips together, looking away. "I don’t know if telling her will help," she admitted. "She already has so much to carry. If she finds out—"

“She deserves to know,” Kristoff said firmly. “She’s stuck in her own head, imagining the worst. We think we’re protecting her, but what if we’re only making it worse?”

Gerda sighed again, slower this time. She glanced down at her arm, almost like she could still feel the burn through her sleeve. “I just…” She shook her head, voice trailing off. “I don’t want to push her over the edge.”

Kristoff leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "She’s scared. And if you don’t tell her the truth, she’s going to keep tearing herself apart over this."

Gerda was silent for a long moment, eyes locked on the table. “I’ll think about it,” she said finally. “See how she’s doing.”

Kristoff watched her closely once again. The weariness in her face, the way her shoulders slumped. It wasn’t just tiredness. It was something deeper, and he felt awful for only making it worse.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t come to make things harder.”

Gerda shook her head and offered a small smile. “You’re just looking out for her. That’s not something to apologize for.”

It still didn’t sit right. Kristoff had always known his mother to be strong—unshakable, even. She had spent years taking care of others, holding everything together no matter how hard things got. Now, that strength seemed to be fading, and it struck him just how much she needed Elsa to pull through.

"You should rest," he said softly. "You look exhausted."

Gerda let out a breathy laugh. "I’ll rest when things settle down."

A smile tugged at his lips. "That’s what you always say."

She reached across the table, squeezing his hand. "Because it’s the truth."

He wanted to argue, tell her she couldn’t keep running herself into the ground like this. But before he could, she spoke again.

“I missed having you home,” she said gently. “I wish I could have you both here. It feels wrong for the three of us to be home while she’s all alone in there… Maybe I should go stay with her.”

She looked at the clock and Kristoff knew she was honestly thinking about it.

“Marshall’s with her,” he said before she made up her mind. “Please stay home and sleep.” He ordered firmly. “And maybe…” He said after a pause.

Gerda looked at him.

“Why don’t you go with Dad to the meeting tomorrow?”

“Kristoff, I already—”

“I think he needs you there,” he said in a lower voice. “Elsa will be okay. Marshall won’t hesitate to stay, and I can go pick up Anna before work. She’ll be glad to help.”

---

“I hear you’re feeling down.”

The doctor spoke to her again.

Elsa let his voice blur into an indistinct hum, her gaze fixed somewhere beyond him. The weight of Gerda’s hand was warm and grounding. It was what she needed, but the moment it was gone, a cold numbness settled in its place. She clenched her fingers into the sheets draped over her lap, trying to still the tremor in her hands.

“I can ease your pain and get you on your feet again.”

She tried to block out the voice, even though something about it tugged at her memory. It was louder now, impossible to ignore. Letting go of the sheets, she reached for Gerda’s sleeve, seeking comfort. But she pulled away suddenly. Elsa’s stomach twisted, her chest tightening with a suffocating dread. Deep down she knew what she had done to deserve this.

“Just a little pinprick. You may feel a little sick.”

She did feel sick. She wasn’t sure if it was the needle or the hollowness inside that caused it.

“Can you stand up? Stand up.”

She couldn’t. She was suffocating and in pain. She needed help.

“I do believe it's working,” the doctor said, a grin drawing on his face. “Good. That'll keep you going through the show.”

“Show?” she wondered.

“Come on, it’s time to go.”

Before she could ask what he meant or ask Gerda for help, the voice around her distorted, like an echo inside an empty room. The temperature dropped suddenly and Gerda dropped her tight smile. She shook her head and walked out the door.

Elsa sat in the hospital bed with effort. She called after her, but no sound came. She couldn’t breathe. She tried to speak again but her throat burned. She managed a few strained, painful, words.

“I didn’t mean to,” Elsa tried to explain.

The light flickered as a door slammed in the distance. The latch fell in place and it echoed all around her. She looked down at her hands as they covered the room in frost. The ice on the walls cracked; she was freezing everything. She tried to stop it, but the cold spread, like ivy growing over a door.

Then, the lights went out.

Elsa woke with a sharp breath.

Gripping her gown, she tried to get rid of the pressure on her chest. She couldn’t get air in. Her eyes darted around, desperate to make sense of where she was. The room was dark and still. Shapes loomed around her in shadows: the foot of the bed, the unfamiliar walls… The hospital hadn't been just part of a nightmare. It wasn’t a dream.

Her heart pounded so hard it hurt. Her other hand clawed at the blanket, and sharp pain shot through her left arm. Her body curled instinctively, she rolled onto her side as her arms wrapped tightly around her middle. A vain attempt to hold herself together.

Tears welled up in her eyes and rolled down her face before she could stop them. She pressed her forehead to the mattress, trying to hide from the world. Her thoughts spiraled out of control, flashes of a life she had been too naive to believe intertwined with a past she wanted to forget. The voices from her dream sliced through her mind, dragging up memories she wished had stayed buried.

The silence of the room didn’t comfort her, it only closed the walls in on her. She was drowning and she couldn’t cry out. Her throat had closed completely. Her fingers twitched against her middle as her powers desperately begged to be released, but something lulled them, keeping them uncomfortably numbed and unreachable.

She stayed curled in on herself, crushed beneath the weight of her own panic, unable to breathe.

---

The nights were quiet. Too quiet. Especially since they'd left the ICU. Back then, the constant beeping of machines had driven Marshall half-mad, but at least there had been noise. A predictable rhythm, he could focus on. Now there was only silence.

He wasn’t sure what he preferred anymore. He didn’t miss the chaos and uncertainty of the ICU. But the quietness made it feel like the world had stopped, making it harder for him to stop the exhaustion from creeping up on him.

The sleepless nights were catching up, wearing him thin. And now, when Elsa truly needed him to stay alert, he found himself struggling to keep his eyes open. To make matters worse, he couldn’t really sleep during the day, his head refused to let him. Forcing him to stay alert, restless, like it was waiting for something to go wrong.

Running during the mornings had helped, but not nearly as much as he had hoped. It helped him avoid his mother’s husband and allowed him to find a routine of his own. But it didn’t get rid of his constant worries. It was only when he was near her, seated in that stiff chair by her bed, that the tension began to ease slowly.

The only sound in the room was Elsa’s soft, steady breathing as she slept, which didn’t help him too much either. He sometimes joked, silently, that it was her fault. Her calm breathing, her stillness, the way she slowed the spinning of his thoughts by just existing. Even like this, she grounded him in a way no one else ever had.

In these quiet moments, he realised just how much he missed her. Not just her presence, but everything else. He missed the way she snapped at him when he wouldn’t listen. The way she tilted her head when he said something overly complicated. The way she invited him hiking, pretending it was about the trail when really, she just needed to talk about family or vent about her clients. He missed that version of Elsa he had come to love through the years.

At first, he hadn’t seen her that way—at least, not that he remembered. But somehow, somewhere along the line, those feelings had taken hold so firmly it was as if they'd always been a part of him. Some nights, Marshall would catch himself wondering how she'd managed to get under his skin. He doubted she even realised how much space she took up in his life.

It had annoyed him at the beginning. The way she slipped into his thoughts, like she had any right to do so. How protective he felt and how irrational it made him.

Now, it terrified him.

Her illness, as well as everything he’d learned about her past, had struck a nerve deep down. He didn’t just want to be there for her. He needed to. And that need scared him. Because if something happened, he wasn’t sure how he’d react without her to anchor him.

He ran a hand over his face, scrubbing his eyes to blink the sleep away and focus on more important things. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his forehead on the side of her bed. His hands clasped loosely in front of him.

His mind was still preoccupied with Ingrid. He hadn’t had the opportunity to talk to her yet. He wanted to see what she had to say before he raised suspicion or talked to Nielsen about it. The woman had never struck him as someone capable of doing harm, but there was this itch in the back of his mind. A suspicion he kept trying to push down because it made him feel paranoid and helpless, and the more that helplessness twisted inside of him, the angrier he became.

His anger had cost him things before. And now, with Elsa, he was scared it could cost him more than he could ever replace. He’d promised himself, and Elsa in a quiet moment once, that he wouldn't go back to that version of himself. But now he wasn’t so sure he could keep that promise.

---

At some point during the night, he must have dozed off, his forehead resting against the edge of her mattress. Sleep kept claiming him in strange positions he’d somehow gotten used to, but it wasn’t long until the sound of rustling sheets pulled him from his light sleep.

His eyes blinked open as he raised his head. And with the help of the dim light from the hallway he managed to notice what was happening.

Elsa had curled onto her side, her arms wrapped so tightly around herself he almost missed how violently they were trembling. She was hunched, her chest rising and falling in shallow, frantic breaths. Her face was half-hidden, pressed to the mattress. Her fingers gripped her gown tightly like she was trying to keep herself from falling apart.

“Elsa,” Marshall exclaimed, alarmed, sitting up straighter.

She didn’t answer. Though her eyes were wide open, they were unfocused, distant. Silent tears streamed down her face. Her lips parted slightly, as if trying, and failing, to draw in some air.

Marshall’s stomach dropped. “Elsa?” he called her name again in a steadier voice. “You’re at the hospital, but I’m here.”

She didn’t respond and so he stood up to assist her. His hand hovered for a second before he lowered it down and touched her left arm lightly. At his touch, she flinched, like she was bracing from something to come. His chest tightened, recognising the panic state she was in.

He crouched down to her level, his hand gently caressing her arm. “You’re okay. It’s just me. Can you hear me?”

She didn’t respond and he tried again, softer this time. “You’re not alone, Elskling.”

Still nothing. He glanced toward the door, weighing his options. Calling someone in would likely do more harm than good, so he dismissed the thought as quickly as it came.

Instead, he turned back to her and gently laid his hand over hers. It was still tightly fisted in the fabric of her gown, so he didn’t try to make her let go. He slid his fingers between hers, threading them carefully through the gaps in her clenched hand. Just enough to let her know he was there. He could feel the shallow rise and fall of her chest beneath their hands, each breath strained and uneven.

“You don’t have to talk,” he murmured. “Just give a small squeeze. Once. If you hear me.”

He waited a moment. Her fingers didn’t move. His own heartbeat began to pound in his ears until he felt the faintest twitch. Marshall exhaled quietly, his grip adjusting just enough to let her know he wasn’t letting go.

“Good,” he whispered. “That’s good. I need you to breathe with me. In and out. Just follow my pace.”

With each breath in, he tightened his hold slightly, enough to guide her and signal when to follow. He stayed like that, crouched beside the bed, his free hand gently caressing her hair. A minute passed, then another, until her breathing hitched. Her chest no longer fought with every breath, the tremor in her arms and shoulders slowly beginning to fade.

“I’ve got you,” he said quietly. “You’re not alone. I’m right here.”

He didn’t move. His hand remained wrapped softly over hers, fingers still threaded through hers. Her skin was still impossibly cold, but thanks to the medication, there was no frost to worry about.

After another moment, her fingers relaxed slightly, loosening their grip on the cloth. She blinked until her eyes gradually focused. She didn’t meet his gaze, but it was clear she recognized where she was. She didn’t speak, and Marshall didn’t expect her to. She stayed curled on her side, arms wrapped around herself.

Eventually, her hand loosened its grip on the gown and turned to his instead. Her fingers curled around his with quiet hesitance. There was a fragile stillness to her now, and though the tears had stopped, she seemed like she was about to shatter at any moment.

He wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms, to hold her tightly and promise her she was safe. But he didn’t move. Didn’t speak nor push. Instead, he shifted carefully, mindful not to startle her. He reached for the chair and dragged it closer, the legs scraping softly against the floor.

Elsa’s shoulders jerked at the sound, and she closed her eyes, drawing in a breath. She let go of his hand and wiped at the remaining tears. He could feel the weight of her shame and uncertainty even if she didn’t voice it.

Marshall looked away, giving her that inch of privacy she probably didn’t know how to ask for. He kept his eyes on the floor, but his hand continued to stroke her side, right where her fingers had held the gown moments earlier. She didn’t flinch or pull away, and he took that as permission to comfort her the only way he could.

He stayed like that, silent, waiting for her to either drift off to sleep or speak when she was ready.

After some minutes, she moved. Slowly, Elsa placed her hand on his wrist and guided his hand down to the mattress, resting it beside her own. Her injured arm remained curled around her middle, hidden beneath the sheets, but he figured he could check it later.

She placed her hand in his again, holding it gently. She drew a shaky breath in before she spoke, her voice was barely audible and so Marshall leaned forward. “What was that?”

“I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” she said loud enough just for him to listen.

Marshall’s stomach tightened. The unspoken implication hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. He leaned closer, his voice surprisingly steady. “You’ve been through hell. And somehow, you’re still here. I know it’s hard waking up in a place like this, but I swear to you, it won’t always be this way. It will get better. You just have to hold on a little longer.

“Listen to me,” he said, seeing his words weren’t reaching her. “You don’t have to face any of this alone. You’ve got your family... and you’ve got me.”

At last, Elsa looked at him. There was something hollow in her eyes, an emptiness that came from long before they met.

“I’m tired,” she murmured, as if she was talking to herself.

“I know.”

He held her hand a little tighter, his thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles. For a second, she let herself lean into it. But then she hesitated, trying to pull her hand away, and Marshall stopped her.

“No,” he said firmly. “I won’t let you retreat into yourself.”

“I could hurt—”

“You won’t.”

“I hurt Gerda,” she said, not meeting his gaze.

“You didn't—” He stopped, finding no reason to lie. It wasn't a question after all. “The day they brought you out of the coma," he started slowly, "your body wasn’t responding accordingly, I guess the ice reacted on its own. It doesn't mean you hurt her.”

Elsa’s breath caught. "So I did."

"You didn’t," he said quickly. "You weren’t even conscious. Do you hear me?"

She didn’t answer, simply stared down at their hands. She tried to pull her hand away again, but he wouldn't let her.

He shook his head, squeezing her hand. “Whatever happened when you were unconscious is not your fault.”

He waited, hoping she’d say something more. He needed her to understand it was okay to reach out and ask for help.

“You won't hurt me.” Marshall kissed her hand reassuringly. “You won't get rid of me either, so stop trying to pull away.”

Tears welled up in her eyes and she gave him a faint nod.

“I won't leave you alone.”

---

I sure hope he can keep his word— What? What was that? Hi! New chapter!

It took me a little bit longer than I originally imagined to edit this chapter. Kristoff had things to say, and at some point I stopped trying to control him. I let him do whatever he wanted.

Also, you may have noticed the doctor's words come from the song "Comfortably numb" by Pink Floyd. The first time those memories resurfaced was in the homonymous chapter 45. There isn't a clue or anything in there, I just really like the song and thought it was creepy enough to be part of Elsa's memories.

I keep having this feeling that in all these chapters nothing’s really happening, but I realised I couldn’t move forwards if I didn’t take my time to build the atmosphere for what’s coming next. Things were going to feel too rushed, so bear with me. I hope you’re enjoying them nonetheless.

As always, let me know what you think. I love reading your comments and thoughts.

Tag time:

As usual, let me know if I need to stop tagging you. Take care!

#søsken #sosken #frozen #frozen fanfiction #elsa #anna #kristoff #marshall #frozen fanfic #marshmallow

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lelitachay · 2 months ago

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Frozen fanfiction: Søsken

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Fanfiction.net - HERE AO3 - HERE

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- Sound of silence

Anna had barely stepped inside her parent’s house when the smell of her mother’s cooking filled the air around her. It had been over two weeks since she had last visited her parents’ house and only now she realised how much she had missed the simple things.

Despite missing the quiet evenings with her mother from time to time, she was thankful Kristoff had asked her to live together before Elsa’s ordeal began. Not only was his apartment significantly closer to the clinic, but she was glad she didn’t need to come home to the uncomfortable tension between her parents every evening —especially not after having been sitting in the waiting room for hours.

There were days she wondered what their arguments were about. Most of the time they were about Elsa, she knew. But she had never felt comfortable staying long enough to find out what exactly they were saying. Something deep inside told her it was best that way.

As she left her bag on the floor to then hang her coat, she thought back to the last time she had entered the house. Agdar and Idunn had been engrossed in a fight, and instead of trying to intervene, she had simply rushed upstairs, picked some clothes and left before they had the chance to even notice her presence.

Deep down she hoped this time would be different and she’d be able to enjoy a quiet evening with them instead.

“Anna?”

She heard her mother’s voice coming from the kitchen. A moment later, Idunn walked into the hall, her expression lighting up as soon as she saw her.

“Oh, sweetheart…” She closed the distance between them quickly, reaching for Anna’s face before she pulled her into her arms. “It’s been days.”

Sinking into the warmth of her mother’s arms, Anna let herself enjoy the comfort she offered.

“I know,” Anna murmured. “I’m sorry I haven’t visited. Things have been— It’s been hard.”

Idunn pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes. “I can imagine,” she whispered, her voice laced with sadness. She then frowned, brushing Anna’s hair back behind her ear. “You look exhausted.”

Anna gave a small, tired laugh. Her mother had always read her like an open book. “Kristoff hasn’t been sleeping much these past few weeks. I’ve been keeping him company.”

Idunn’s shoulders slumped, the relief at seeing her quickly being replaced by deep concern for their wellbeing. "Poor thing. He must be so worried. At least he can now visit her."

Anna let go of her mother and gave a small shrug. “We only got the chance to see her for the first time two days ago.”

Idunn frowned with confusion. “I thought you said the doctor was going to let you see her last week.”

“That was the plan,” Anna explained. She kneeled to take some books out of her bag and then hung it next to her jacket. “Nielsen pushed the date back. Elsa was still too weak and confused. She had to stay in the ICU for a couple more days.”

Closing her eyes, her mother took a deep breath before she asked, “How is she now?”

Anna hesitated for a moment. Despite knowing there was no reason to lie to her mother, she couldn’t stand the dejected look in her eyes whenever they talked about Elsa’s health.

“She’s in a lot of pain,” she finally admitted. “She’s on painkillers, anxiolytics and… and I don’t know what else. It’s hard to keep track of everything they tell us.”

“I can’t believe a simple cut can cause all of this,” Idunn murmured, as if she was merely thinking out loud. “If I had known…”

Raising an eyebrow, Anna looked at her expecting her to finish the idea.

Waving a hand in front of her, Idunn dismissed it. “It’s hard to imagine a home accident can put your health at risk like this. That’s all.”

Anna nodded briefly and opened her mouth to reply, though the smell of something burning caught her attention. “Talking about accidents… Did you turn off the stove?”

“Oh, no,” exclaimed Idunn as she rushed into the kitchen. “No, no.”

Anna shook her head and followed her mother, a small smile tugging at her lips. She could only hope whatever she had been cooking was still edible.

Before going into the kitchen, Anna detoured to her father’s office to return the books he had lent her. A pile of scattered papers and folders on top of his desk caught her eye, making her curious.

Knowing one day she would be expected to take over the company, Anna began inspecting the balance sheets and reports. Everything belonged to ArenCo, like she had suspected, and half the things were documents she barely understood.

Letting out a tired sigh, she remembered she was supposed to start learning more about the family business sooner or later. She had never paid too much attention to it before; but knowing about Elsa's existence, about her struggles, and now the possibility of her not recovering entirely, she wanted to make sure their part of the company would be secure and profitable. It was the very least she could do for her sister.

Absent-mindedly, she kept looking at the documents while her mind wandered back to Elsa. Despite the doctors’ original prognosis, she trusted Elsa to be stubborn enough to overcome whatever was coming now and prove doctors wrong. But even if she did, Elsa still had a long way to go.

“It is a big step.” Gerda had said, talking about Elsa standing. “But she won’t get up and walk out of here in a week. There will be a lot of pain. A lot of frustration… And days where she won’t want to try at all.”

The idea of her sister not wanting to try was what scared her the most. She wasn’t entirely sure how to help if it came to that. And she wasn't sure how it could affect Kristoff.

Shaking her head, Anna tried to stay positive. She needed to see Elsa’s first steps as what they were, the first steps to her recovery, not something to brush off.

Anna put the books away in the bookshelf, and only when she turned to leave did she notice her father’s handwriting standing out in red over one of the balance sheets. Negative numbers were scrawled over the printed figures, marking a substantial withdrawal. Hundreds of thousands had been taken from the company’s funds, and for a moment she wondered how such a large amount had gone over the accountants' heads.

Elsa’s expenses then came to mind.

She picked the balance sheet and inspected it. The notes underneath seemed to be a reminder of some kind. A conversation Agdar still needed to have with someone inside the company. Her sister’s name was among those notes, proving her right.

Anna was grateful her father had the means to cover Elsa’s hospitalization. Her in-laws and Kristoff could’ve never shouldered such an overwhelming debt on their own, no matter how hard they tried. Still, she couldn’t help wondering if there existed the chance Haugen could ask for more money before Elsa was discharged from the clinic. And if the company would be willing to shoulder those expenses as well.

Cold fear ran down her spine, like a bucket of ice water dumped over her shoulders. Seeing those numbers, scrawled over the balance sheet like a warning. It reminded her Elsa wasn’t safe. Her health was only part of the reason to worry, and Anna was running out of reasons to stay hopeful.

“Dinner isn't entirely ruined!” She heard her mother calling from the kitchen, startling her.

Knowing it was a matter of time until Idunn came looking for her. She placed the sheet back onto the desk, she took one more deep breath and tried to get a grip of her emotions before she met her mother again.

---

As soon as Anna entered the kitchen, Idunn could tell something was wrong.

She looked distracted, her gaze far off and her shoulders hunched in a way that hadn’t been mere minutes before. It was like the weight of some invisible truth had settled over her, like she’d received terrible news in the time she walked from the front door to the kitchen.

Idunn missed the days when Anna would come straight to her with whatever was on her mind. She missed the way they used to talk without all these careful silences. Their relationship had changed. They both had. Somewhere along the way, it had morphed into something Idunn barely recognized, and she wasn’t sure how to start fixing their strained relationship.

She hoped that spending this quiet evening together, after so long, would help them narrow the breach between them. And more importantly, she hoped Anna’d feel comfortable sharing whatever had got grip of her thoughts.

“I was making pasta,” Idunn said after a long silence. She lifted the lid from the pot to reveal the burnt remnants of the sauce inside. “This was supposed to be bolognese…” The smell said otherwise. It was sharp and bitter. Still, the sight drew a faint chuckle from both of them, even when their smiles didn’t reach their eyes.

“Is cheese sauce okay?” she asked, reaching for another pot. She’d prepare anything that’d help lift her daughter’s spirits.

Anna smiled and nodded, but remained concerningly quiet otherwise. She simply slid into her usual seat at the kitchen table, and watched her cook.

Idunn prepared the ingredients she needed in silence. And began stealing glances over her shoulder as she cooked.

Anna looked tired. Worn out in a way that she hasn't seen before. Like the last few weeks —months truly— had finally caught up with her.

At the sight, Idunn couldn’t help but remember Elsa. Thinking back to the last time she had seen her before the hospital. She had sat in that same chair. Thin, quiet, eyes sunken with exhaustion.

Pain and regret pulled at Idunn’s heart right then. She’d had the chance to help. She’d known something wasn’t right but hadn’t done enough. She didn't want to be the one to push too hard, the fear of losing her stopped her from doing what she knew was best. She now hated herself for putting her own fears before Elsa’s needs that day. If only she had driven her to the ER, she might have kept her from ending up in the hospital. Maybe even spared her the heartache of hearing what Agdar had said as well.

The silence between mother and daughter stretched, and Idunn couldn’t hold herself back any longer.

“You were telling me about Elsa,” she finally said, her voice gentle, afraid any wrong word would drive her younger daughter away as well.

Anna hesitated like there were too many things to say. Idunn could see the way her daughter’s jaw tightened, trying to find a version of the truth that didn’t hurt to speak out loud.

“I spent most of the day with her on Thursday,” Anna said eventually, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Gerda let me stay with her. Keep them both company.”

Idunn sighed, a small smile drawing in her face despite the pain she felt for not being the one there by their daughters’ side. She was thankful life had allowed Elsa into Gerda’s life. As well as Anna. She was certain the woman loved them both and was doing everything in her power to protect them in her own way.

“She’s recovering. Sort of. Slowly…” Anna trailed off.

There was a heaviness in Anna’s voice. Something that told Idunn she wasn’t being completely honest, or in the very least, trying hard to make things look better than they were.

“I wish I could do something. Help in any way,” Idunn admitted.

“You and Dad are helping. What you’re giving her is more than Kai or Gerda could ever pay on short notice.”

Anna meant well, but the words hit differently. Money didn’t fix things. Not this. Not what had been said or what was left unsaid for too many years. “It isn’t the same, dear. We aren’t helping Elsa overcome any of it with just money.”

“Maybe you can be there for her now. Show her you care,” Anna said with a sad smile. “Gerda says she’ll probably have a hard time dealing with everything that happened to her in the last month. Having people who care around might be the best for her.”

“I don’t think I’d be welcome.”

“You’re family.”

Idunn let out a soft breath. “I wasn’t there when she needed me the most, Anna. I can’t pretend otherwise. I don’t want to force myself into her life if she doesn’t want me there.”

Anna hesitated for a moment. “You want to see her, don’t you?”

Her fingers tightened around the dishcloth in her hand. The question hurt, no matter how innocently Anna had meant it to be. The question felt too direct, trying to expose something that wasn’t there.

“Of course I do. It’s been hard staying at home… Waiting,” she said. Her voice was low, slightly offended, but Idunn gave a faint shake of her head, getting rid of the feeling. “I still think it’s best to wait. At least until she’s feeling better.”

Anna didn’t argue, but she still looked unconvinced. Idunn knew she was in the right to doubt her. The thing is, she was afraid of walking into Elsa’s life too soon. Too fast. She did agree Elsa needed all the help she could get, especially now that she was inside that clinic, surrounded by unreliable people.

Making up her mind, Idunn left the kitchen and made her way to the living room. She needed to prove —even if it was with something small— that she was thinking of Elsa. That she did care.

Quickly searching on her bookshelf, she found the book she’d set aside earlier that week. It was old and it portrayed several characters on the cover, among them a familiar snowman. The edition was different, older, an anthology of short stories. But she knew, without a doubt, Elsa would enjoy it. That it would help her get her mind off things for a while.

When she turned around, she saw Anna standing not far from her, intrigued by what she was doing.

“I’ve got something she might like,” Idunn said. “Days have been quiet without you here. I’ve been helping Helga at the shop during the afternoons—it helps keep my mind busy. She found it while going through some boxes in the back. I bought it for her.”

She held the book out to her, and Anna took it gently, her thumb brushing over its worn edges.

“Maybe she’d like something to keep her mind entertained.”

Anna’s expression shifted. She blinked at the cover, recognition dawning in her eyes. “This is—”

The corners of Idunn’s lips lifted as she nodded. “Didn’t you say she loved the other one?”

“You should be the one giving it to her this time,” Anna said straight away.

Idunn’s smile faltered. “Who knows when I’ll get to see her. You better give it to her.”

Anna frowned. “Mum, it’s from you.”

Though Idunn was already turning back towards the kitchen. It hurt to make that choice. She wanted to agree with Anna in a heartbeat. She wanted to use this or any other excuse to go see Elsa. But she couldn’t ignore the hurt in Elsa’s face the last time they saw each other. She might not have said anything, but she was begging her to let her go, not to force her way into her life. Especially not after Agdar’s admission.

“I don’t want to intrude,” she said when Anna called her name again.

Anna sat back down and stopped insisting when she noticed she wouldn’t change her mind. She looked down at the book, turning a few pages absent-mindedly.

Silence fell between them, and Idunn felt guilty for ignoring Anna’s wishes. Things weren’t so simple, and there was no right way to explain her reasons without breaking Elsa’s promise.

“Where’s Dad?” Anna asked after a while, when the food was ready and Idunn asked her to put the book away.

“He’s been working late these last few days,” Idunn replied, reaching for the dishes in an attempt to avoid any further questions.

The truth was, Agdar had been working late most days, coming home long after she’d had dinner. He always apologized. For being late, for forgetting to call. And the apology was real, so was the reason. Still, there was a distance between them that neither knew how to bridge, and Idunn wasn’t entirely sure she cared.

She hadn’t forgiven him for the pain he had inflicted on Elsa. It had been too blunt for her to brush off. They were both responsible for their choices, but his words had caused damage. Irreversible damage. The kind that settled deep and didn’t go away just because he said sorry.

“Will he join us for dinner?” Anna asked, unsure what her silence meant.

“I don’t know,” Idunn admitted. She didn’t want to tell her something had broken between them, but she wouldn’t lie for him either. “He hasn’t called.”

---

Cold air swept into the room, chilling Kristoff to the bone. The last hour or so he had made an effort to tolerate it, but as the night set in, it was becoming more and more unbearable.

The cold wasn't coming from the open window alone. Kristoff knew that much. There was something else than the crisp autumn air. It was the kind of cold that would creep under his sister's bedroom door late at night when they were younger. The kind that had hung in the air the first few months she had come to live with them. The exact kind that let him know she wasn’t having a good day.

Shaking his head, he tried not to think too much about it. He hated those moments when he became overly aware of his sister’s powers. When the bitterness towards them controlled his thoughts and he couldn’t focus on anything else. It wasn’t that he didn’t accept them, but it was hard to see something shape and control the life of someone you loved and not become slightly resentful over time.

Putting his hands back in his pockets, he tried to get rid of the chill running down his back before Elsa noticed. His eyes darted to her and noticed with a heavy heart that she was still in the same position. Curled up beneath the blankets, her face turned slightly away from him, facing the darkness outside.

While some others could say she was simply lost in thought, he could see the tension in her expression. Her brows were furrowed just enough to show it. And either she was thinking deeply about something, or making a strenuous effort to control her powers. He had always had trouble discerning the two.

He straightened up in the chair, folding his arms over his chest in a vain attempt to stay warm. Though the movement caught Elsa’s attention and she slowly turned to look at him. She pressed her lips together as her eyes flickered towards the window for a split second.

"You can close it," she finally murmured.

"Huh?" he said, pretending he hadn’t been thinking about it for the last hour.

"The window." Her voice was soft, barely there, and she kept avoiding his eyes. "You can close it if you're cold."

The awkwardness of the moment made him miss the days Elsa would not only look at him, but also make playful remarks about him not tolerating the smallest gust of wind. On occasions, he’d even suck it up just to prove to her it didn’t bother him. It had always been a stupid thing between them, and he wondered how long it'd take for things to be like that again. The most pessimistic part of him told him nothing would truly go back to the way things were before the illness—or before she found her biological family, and her life came crashing down around her.

"I'm not c—" He stopped. Then glanced between her and the open window hesitating, there was no reason to lie after all. Instead, he said, "It isn't necessary."

She didn’t argue like he’d have hoped. She simply looked away, which was a lot worse.

"A nurse will come and close it eventually," she muttered. "They always do."

He exhaled quietly, stepping towards the window and sliding it shut. The latch clicked into place, but the cold didn’t leave. He rubbed his arms, pretending he was shaking off the lingering chill.

"Thanks," he said, moving back to her bedside. "I know you enjoy the cold breeze, but it's getting colder and colder every day. Autumn is going by faster than I imagined."

Elsa knitted her brows, her eyes fixing on her hands as she tried to make sense of what he’d said. "September’s just begun."

Kristoff frowned and before he could stop himself he said, "It's October."

He saw it then, the moment she narrowed her eyes and her fingers tensed against the sheets. It was subtle, but it was there. A moment of realization settling in, a quiet kind of shock that she didn’t voice.

He cursed his own stupidity for not being more careful, for not realising she was still adapting to everything that had happened. He wanted to snap at the doctors for not taking the time to explain things to her. Though there was no reason to fight over choices that had already been made.

"You were in a coma for over two weeks," he explained.

Leaning forward, he rested his forearms on his knees. His eyes fixed on the floor while his mind wandered back to those long nights. He’d been too worried to fall asleep, and when sleep did come, he always woke up agitated. Afraid his mother would call to tell him she was gone.

He tried to keep his tone gentle, but deep down knew it wouldn’t make a difference. "And another week and a half in the ICU after you woke up."

She didn’t say anything at first. Just stared down at her hands, her expression unreadable.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I know it must be difficult to—"

"There isn't anything we can do about it," she cut in, her voice surprisingly soft and understanding.

It wasn’t the first time Elsa had lost time, he guessed. Who knew how many weeks had gone by in her life, in her childhood, without her realising it. The thought did nothing to appease the heartache. "No, I guess not."

Silence stretched between them, heavily. Like there was so much more they wanted to say to one another and they didn’t know how. Kristoff shifted his weight in the small chair. He glanced at her thin hand which gripped the sheet as an anchor. She had always been slender, but he hadn't seen her this way ever since she moved in with his parents.

A memory came to him then. They’d been together in her bedroom. Elsa sitting in bed, her frail body too weak for her to do much else. It was the first week after she had reentered his life, and he had been too ecstatic to wait for her to feel better to spend time with her.

He remembered the way he had talked, fast and hopeful, filling the silences she didn’t know how to break. She had nodded along, barely speaking, only asking for one thing…

"Remember when you first came to live with Mum and Dad?" he asked.

Her fingers twitched slightly, but she turned her head in his direction. At least he had sparked her curiosity. He took that tiny movement as a small gift. She didn’t speak, but he thought he saw the faintest trace of a question there.

"I used to spend my days in your room," he said. "You’d ask me to open your window despite the cold winter air, and I always did. It used to drive mum crazy. She was afraid we’d get sick or something." He smiled faintly at the memory. "She got tired of nagging me eventually and bought me this thick woollen sweater instead… I should have brought one of those today."

Elsa’s brow furrowed. "I don’t remember that."

A sad smile drew on his face. Of course, she didn’t. There had been too much to take in back then. An open window and a new sweater had probably been the least of her concerns.

"I don't blame you," he said. "There were all these new things for you to get used to."

"Like how to open a window?"

He chuckled. It was a joke made out of frustration, he knew, but at least it was something other than a tired sigh or tense silence. "It was the first week or so. You were still bedridden back then, you couldn’t open the window on your own."

"Those days are all blurry," she admitted. Her brows furrowed, as if she was still trying to remember.

His smile faded slightly. "Every evening Mum would come home with bags full of things for you—clothes, stuffed animals, things for your room. She must have felt guilty at some point, so she started bringing me gifts as well." He let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. "That woman’s got a heart of gold."

When he looked at her again, her gaze held an ache that hadn’t been there a moment before. She wasn’t even looking at him anymore. Her eyes had drifted back to her hands, or maybe beyond them, towards something only she could see. Something was occupying his sister’s mind, but he knew it had nothing to do with their conversation.

“Els?” He called when the silence stretched longer than he expected.

“Is mum okay?" she asked suddenly, catching him off guard.

Kristoff froze, his heart stopping for a split second. "What?"

"Gerda." Her voice was firmer as she met his eyes. "Is she okay?"

Kristoff felt his stomach tighten. "Why do you ask?"

"Is she?"

He could lie. He should lie. But Elsa’s gaze was on him now, sharp and searching, desperate in a way that made his throat feel tight.

"No," he said finally, regretting it as soon as he noticed the pain in her eyes. “I mean, she’s tired— But she’s okay, yes.”

"Kristoff." Her voice didn’t waver, but there was something fragile about it. "I’m still trying to make sense of everything that happened, so please, I need you to be honest with me. Is she okay?"

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. He was afraid of saying too much. He wasn’t even sure she was asking about their mother getting hurt. So he settled for something honest in between.

“It’s been a long month. We were all worried about you. I guess now that you’re back, it’s catching up with her. But you don’t need to worry.”

Elsa looked unconvinced, but she didn’t push. Her eyes drifted back to the window.

Kristoff felt bad for her—guilty, too—for being part of the tangled web of lies surrounding his sister. A web he hadn’t spun, but hadn’t fought hard enough to escape either.

“They wouldn’t let us into the ICU. It was either Mum or Marshall. Mum didn’t want to leave you alone during the day. She couldn’t, really… She didn’t want to be anywhere else.” He hoped what he was offering helped ease her mind, at least until he could talk to their mother. Gerda needed to make up her mind and come clean to Elsa.

“She’s tired, Elsa. But she’s so happy you’re awake. That you’re getting better,” he said with a small smile.

The words didn’t seem to help much, but before he could say anything else, the door opened widely letting one of the nurses in.

"Time for a quick check-up," she announced. She rubbed her arms and glanced at the now closed window. "Good heavens, it’s freezing in here."

Kristoff stood up and introduced himself, not having met the old lady before. “I’m Kristoff. Elsa’s brother.” He cast a brief look at the window as well and explained, "I opened the window earlier; we enjoy the fresh air.”

The woman shook his hand but didn’t say anything, only nodded. Kristoff then stepped aside to let her work.

Noticing his sister sinking further into herself, however, he decided to keep a close eye, just in case he was needed. In their last meeting, Nielsen had explained that not every nurse in the ward was aware of Elsa’s condition. Only a couple from the ICU had been brought in. Those he trusted enough to handle things when the subject of ice came up. Outside their presence, it was safer to keep everything under wraps.

Elsa’s powers were still being monitored, controlled as best as possible with the help of anxiolytics. They dulled them, just enough to keep things stable. But not enough to stop them entirely. Or so it seemed. The chilling air in the room said otherwise and he made a mental note to discuss it with his mother as well.

The nurse picked up the clipboard from the foot of the bed and began asking a series of questions. Most of them sounded routine, borderline unnecessary, but he figured they were meant to ensure Elsa was still responsive. Her mental state had been one of Nielsen’s main concerns, but since leaving the ICU, she seemed more alert with each day. At least in terms of memory and awareness.

Kristoff’s curiosity in the check-up picked up when he heard the nurse ask about her feeling any pain.

"The usual," Elsa whispered, still not looking at the woman.

"How about nausea?"

A small nod.

The nurse made a note on a separate notebook and left the clipboard in its place.

"You still feel nauseous?" Kristoff interrupted, unable to hide his concern.

"It’s the medicine," the nurse said matter-of-factly.

She then moved to adjust the IV, injecting some more medication in the bag. Kristoff grimaced knowing it would only make Elsa feel worse in the next few hours, but he guessed it was necessary. Until the day she was discharged, there was nothing to do about it.

Kristoff watched his sister carefully. She wasn’t looking at either of them, her gaze focused on the sheets she kept gripping tightly. There was something in her resignation that didn't sit well with him. No matter the reason she had been hospitalized before, she had always put up a fight. Even in the smallest things, she never complied, not entirely. Now, she seemed resigned to accept whatever came her way, and not in a calm, understanding way, but in the kind that suggested it no longer mattered.

The fire was out.

And for the first time since she had fallen ill, his fears shifted. It wasn’t her physical health that worried him now, but her mind. Her spirit. His concerns were now fixed on whether his sister still had any strength left in her.

---

Kristoff pulled his jacket tighter around himself as he stepped out of the clinic. The cold night air bit at his skin and the soft, cold drizzle fell steadily, explaining why the streets were so empty on a Saturday night.

It was almost midnight by the time he left his sister’s room. He’d called Marshall earlier that day, asking him to show up around eleven instead of eight. He’d wanted a bit more time with Elsa, just the two of them. It hadn’t made much of a difference, but at least he had got the chance to be with her and hopefully let her know how much he missed her. He regretted not being more open with his feelings sometimes, hopefully she noticed how much he truly cared.

Despite his regrets, he had at least been with her for more than an hour. And that counted for something. The more he thought about his sister and everything she was going through, the more he missed the days when she used to let her walls down around him more easily.

He guessed that, in a quiet, altered way, she still tried. Her voice lingered in his mind, soft with concern. He couldn’t shake the look in her eyes when she’d asked about Gerda. It had unsettled him more than he cared to admit, knowing he couldn’t say what had really happened and how their mother was truly feeling.

He hated that she doubted herself. But he couldn’t ignore the truth either. The burn on Gerda’s arm was real, and it had to be acknowledged with care. Elsa wouldn’t see what they saw: An accident, an unconscious reflex. Instead she’d believe she couldn’t be trusted.

His thoughts weighed on him as he turned a familiar corner, his feet carrying him past a building with a dimly lit entrance. He paused, eyes drawn to the worn steps he had climbed so many times as a kid.

The orphanage stood tall, weathered but intact despite the years gone by. His first home. Or at least, the first home he could remember. He couldn’t say life had been hard in that place, but it hadn't been warm either. Not in the way life with Kai and Gerda was. The few good memories he had were tied to Elsa and his parents, more than the institution itself.

It was strange to realise how many years had gone by, and how little things had really changed. He was still afraid of losing those he had got to call his family. He was still chasing after Elsa in a way. He was still filled with child-like wonder whenever she used her powers and still quietly resentful of those same powers keeping them apart. Things were so different, yet he and his sister were still frozen in time, haunted by the shadows they never learned to leave behind.

Sometimes he wondered what Elsa thought of that place. What her memories of that time were. He had never asked. They’d talked about it here and there, but the conversations never lasted more than a minute or two. A shared memory. A passing question. Something small to acknowledge their shared past. He suspected they both avoided it on purpose.

He didn’t really understand why, of all times, those thoughts were surfacing now. But he pushed them aside and kept going. It was late, and he suspected his parents were already asleep—but he couldn’t return to his place without speaking to them first. Shaking his head, he continued down the road to their house.

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Guess what’s back. Back again. Søsken’s back. Tell a friend.

It’s been so long! I’m sorry for taking more than I expected to come back to this story. But the Søsken prequel “Kjølig Vennskap” kept me truly entertained the last couple of months.

If you haven’t read it yet, I suggest you jump straight to it after this chapter. It doesn’t change Søsken’s story in the slightless, but it gives you more background on Elsa and Marshall’s friendship. It also let us see more about Elsa’s life in the mountain and how she adapted to life on her own. If you do read it, let me know what you think of it!

Anyway, about this chapter. I was originally planning to include Kristoff’s conversation with his parents in this chapter as well, but then I realised the chapter was already 6k+ words and I thought it was best to divide it in two. So that means I’ll be posting chapter 57 soon, hopefully.

Also, some of you were a bit confused as to how we jumped from Elsa being confused inside the ICU one chapter and in a common ward the next. I purposely made the time jump rather fast to explain it later on in this chapter. I hope it’s a bit more clear now! I’m not really good at showing time going by as you may have noticed.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It’s a quiet one, more like a transition than anything else. Let me know what you think.

I’m sorry I haven’t answered your comments yet, but trust me when I say I’ve enjoyed reading each and every one. Reading your opinions really makes my day.Enjoy and I hope to read you all soon!

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Tag time:

As usual, let me know if I need to stop tagging you. Take care!

#reblog #søsken #frozen fanfiction #frozen fanfic

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