lelitachay

[lelitachay]

Frozen fanfiction: Kjølig Vennskap

Summary: Before the events of Søsken, two seemingly different lives cross paths. Marshall, trying to set his life straight, finds himself drawn to a young woman. While dealing with his own struggles, he takes advantage of Elsa’s trust. Guilt and quiet understanding shape the unspoken bond that forms between them. As the seasons pass, they begin to lift each other’s burdens, learning to rely on one another in ways neither expected.

Elsa - Marshall - Marshmallow - hurt/comfort - Modern AU - Søsken universe - Elsa & Marshall

Links:

AO3 - HERE

Chapter 1 - Here Chapter 2 - Here

-

There’s more than meets the eye

As the sun hung low on the horizon and the season settled in, the mountain began to shift. The days grew shorter. The sun barely rose before it began to fall again, and the hours in between were grey and cold.

The snow changed, too. There was less powder now, more resistance beneath the surface, and Elsa noticed it before anyone else. Marshall could tell by the way she moved, like she was already adjusting to the snow’s reluctance. She didn’t mention it. She didn’t talk about it, she simply adapted her lesson.

She rarely explained things she could show, and when she did speak, it was with a clarity that made it easy for Marshall to replicate in his own lessons.

Despite his better judgment, he had kept booking lessons. And before he knew it, they’d fallen into a rhythm. The early mornings were replaced by quieter, colder afternoons. Elsa had explained, almost apologetically, that she couldn’t afford to turn down new clients, and tourists preferred to ski as soon as the sun allowed them to.

Marshall hadn’t hesitated to switch. It was the first time she’d openly admitted how much she depended on the work, and his own clients preferred early hours as well anyway. The new arrangement suited them both, even if Elsa was unaware of it.

At some point, tired of going up and down slopes all day, he’d suggested they try cross-country routes through the forest instead. Elsa had seemed eager for a change as well, and so their afternoons soon turned into long sessions weaving through the trees.

There were days they stayed out past dusk, lanterns clipped to their backpacks, casting narrow beams across the snow. The trails were almost always empty, allowing them to enjoy the undisturbed winter scenery to the fullest.

He followed her lead without question. He felt no need to ask as many questions as he did in the beginning. He no longer questioned the reason behind her picking one path over another. He had begun to trust her instinct and he simply watched, listened, and tried to understand her choices. He wasn’t taking as much as before, not exactly, but the guilt still clung to him in quiet moments. It lingered in the background, pressing hard on his chest during the nights when he caught himself repeating something she’d said while he prepared his lessons.

As their skis glided over packed snow, the silence between them felt comfortable and easy. They didn’t talk much. Marshall wasn’t a particularly talkative person, and he came to understand that neither was Elsa. Still, they skied in sync, and that was more than enough for him. His life had grown messy and overly complicated over the past few years, and somewhere along the way, he’d forgotten the simple things he used to enjoy. He hadn’t realized until then how much he needed time and space to reconnect with the things he once loved about the mountain.

Every now and then, he caught himself watching her. He told himself he was studying her, trying to pick up her technique. But sometimes, without meaning to, he’d stop mid-thought just to look at her: The way the lantern light would catch the strands of hair escaping her beanie, how still she stood when she was thinking, or the way her eyes lit up when he shared something his grandfather had once taught him about the mountain.

He didn’t mean to notice those things, but he caught himself doing it more and more each passing day. He was starting to get distracted. More often than he wanted to admit. Missing pieces of her instructions, and only realising it when it was too late to ask what she had said.

He wanted to believe it was just curiosity. He was merely trying to make sense of her —of the way she moved across the snow. The way she existed around the cold wasn’t usual, making it seem it was her second skin. She never flinched from a gust of wind. She felt no need to wrap herself in unnecessary layers either. There was something strange and elegant in it.

As a boy, he’d always thought it was a cruel trick to love winter and the mountain as much as he did while being so sensitive to the cold. He had wished for thicker skin, a hard shell to protect him. But no matter how many layers he wore, no matter how hard he pushed his body, the cold always bit deep once he stopped moving.

She, on the other hand, looked like she belonged to it. And he envied it a little.

---

One late afternoon, when the sun had long disappeared beyond the horizon, he offered to walk her home.

They were packing up when he found himself speaking without thinking. As soon as he realised what he had said, he held his breath unsure how she’d take it. He didn’t intend to make things awkward between them with his offer, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t worry about her getting home safe every evening.

She turned to him with a questioning look on her face, and he felt the sudden need to apologise. To his surprise and immense relief, however, she accepted before he got the chance.

They walked in silence towards one of the main trails, skis unstrapped and resting on their shoulders. For a while the only sound was that of their boots crunching in uneven sync over the frozen path. Elsa was quiet, that wasn’t new, but the silence felt different somehow.

Marshall glanced at her from the corner of his eye, then looked ahead again. He could hear Westergaard’s voice in his head. That morning he had told him more clients were requesting him by name, and deep down he knew he owed it all to Elsa. His pride wanted to believe he was doing something well and that it wasn’t all thanks to her, still it didn’t feel true. Not entirely.

"Would you like to work for a resort?" he asked, the words falling out before he could stop them. He regretted them instantly. He felt like an arse for even thinking it was his place to ask, especially when he already knew the answer.

“No,” she said without hesitation, surprising him.

He frowned, unable to understand what she meant. He knew for a fact she had tried to get a job with Westergaard. Not to mention she needed a stable job. She kept showing up at Oaken’s night after night, handing out flyers with little to no success.

“Why?” he asked, curiosity taking over. “You’re good. Better than most of the people I’ve met around here.”

She seemed genuinely surprised by that. Like the idea had never occurred to her, like she'd never allowed herself to believe it. She looked down, and bit her lower lip as she tried to put her thoughts into words. He noticed her fingers turning white around the straps of her backpack as she adjusted the weight on her shoulder.

“I prefer it this way.”

A small, nervous laugh escaped him as he tried to lift the moment. “Less pressure?”

“Fewer people,” she replied. Her voice didn’t falter, but something in the air around her did. Like a gust of wind had swept through and taken the warmth with it.

Guilt tightened in his chest as they walked the rest of the trail in silence. He had seen her at Oaken’s peeling off her gloves to dig out coins from her pocket. Counting and recounting them before buying something cheap to take home.

He was tired of watching her struggle in silence while he got Westergaard’s praise. He wanted to recommend her. God, he wished he could walk into his boss’ office, say her name, and watch her finally get the chance she deserved. But he couldn’t. Not without her finding out he had been using her words —her lessons— as his own. And that was the worst of it. He couldn’t help her without also breaking the small balance he had found in his life. He was being selfish, he knew. But he had no idea what else to do anymore.

They reached the edge of the woods just as an old cottage came into view. Its front steps were half-buried in snowdrift, glowing faintly with warm light from the oil lamp hanging above them. She adjusted the skis on her shoulder and her pace slowed down until she came to a stop.

Marshall glanced at her, then at the house. “Is this your place?”

She gave a small nod.

She seemed uneasy, and he hoped she wasn’t regretting showing him where she lived.

“It’s not much,” she finally said.

Marshall shook his head. The place wasn’t big, but it wasn’t exactly small either. It was old, like most of the cottages around there, so that wasn’t what caught his attention. The care in every detail did. New wood planks on the porch, a stack of firewood neatly arranged and shielded from the snow, the path to the door swept clean, even the oil lamp hanging from the beam had been painted recently. She tended to the place like it mattered.

“It looks cozy,” he said with a smile, and he meant it.

She didn’t answer, just stared at her boots, fingers fidgeting with the strap once again. He could tell the praise didn’t sit comfortably, and perhaps she wasn’t used to it.

Not wanting to drag their uncomfortable silence any longer, Marshall cleared his throat and shifted his weight, then reached into his pocket for her pay.

“For today,” he said, handing over the money.

She hesitated. “You don’t have to—”

“Don’t start,” he said, cutting her off. For some reason, and despite the fact she needed the money, she always tried to convince him she wasn’t teaching him anything. It annoyed him to no end. “You earned it.”

She took the money without looking at it. She never counted it in front of him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

She gave a small nod, already stepping towards her front steps. “Yes. Same time.”

As he turned to walk back into the forest, he felt the cold and guilt settle in again, like it always did at the end of the day.

---

Elsa didn’t move right away. She stood on the porch, watching him walk away until the flicker from his lantern couldn't be seen among the trees.

Her fingers curled tighter around the folded bills he’d given her, as she turned to her door. Marshall was a puzzle she couldn’t quite piece together and every time he paid, she felt strange accepting the money.

He didn’t need the lessons. She’d known that from the very beginning. The man had a calm, practiced stance. He moved like someone who had learned things long ago and had kept practicing his whole life. He was confident and in control of his skis all the time.

She often wondered why he bothered coming back. No matter what she tried to teach him, he never looked surprised. Not really. He absorbed it, sure. He had asked questions in the beginning, and a few corrections aside, there was no hint that anything she told him was new.

Still, he showed up. Early, most days, with that same quiet nod for a greeting.

Maybe he was just being kind. Maybe he liked company while he practiced the sport. Or maybe he felt lonely. Whatever the reason, she couldn’t tell.

She closed the door gently and leaned her forehead against the wood. She told herself it shouldn’t matter. As long as he kept coming back, she’d have something secure. She knew it was better this way, still she felt it was wrong for him to pay when there was nothing she was offering him besides her time. Time she would have wasted anyway. Not many people were booking after all.

As she arranged her things for them to dry, she thought back to his question about the resort. Of course she’d like to work there. She’d tried getting a job early that season, when she heard Westergaard was hiring, and she had hoped that maybe, just maybe, he’d give her a chance. Even when she had no schooling, no formal training nor certificates to offer.

Kristoff had helped her put together a sheet of paper with her name, address and phone number in it. He said it didn’t have to be anything fancy, just her information and a list of what she’d done before. He’d said they could lie a little, fill it with some work experience that would give them a reason to test her on the snow. He said experience wasn’t necessary as long as she got the chance to show what she was capable of.

She had tried to make it look clean. She had taken her time, writing carefully and slowly, as best as she could. She had folded it neatly as well. But when she handed the paper to Westergaard, he’d barely glanced at it before dropping it on the desk.

“We don’t hire instructors without credentials.”

And just like that, he had asked her to step out of the office. She’d apologised before she left, unsure of what else to do —for not knowing better, perhaps for being there at all. She had kept her head low as she made her way back home, grateful for the snowfall the night before to cover her own.

That was the first time she’d tried, and she had no intention of trying once again. As long as she had something to hold onto, she’d try to make a living independently.

When Marshall asked she’d said she preferred it that way and kept the rest to herself. Part of her feared he’d eventually see what Westergaard had seen —that she wasn’t really qualified to teach anyone anything— and he’d eventually ask for his money back.

For that reason, him saying she was good, that she had earned the money, meant more to her than he could imagine. She wanted to believe she had talent. That she was good at something. She wanted to hold onto those words, because skiing was the only thing she understood. The only thing that made sense to her. And the only thing that didn’t make her feel smaller than everybody else.

---

The weather had changed overnight, and what had started as a soft snowfall —perfect to enjoy something warm by the fireplace— had turned into a snowstorm.

To her disappointment, she had to cancel the morning lessons, and as the day went on, she figured it was only wise to do the same with Marshall’s. The snowstorm had stopped by midmorning, but the winds were still strong. Nothing she couldn’t handle, but likely more than Marshall would be comfortable with.

She was glad she had asked for his number for situations just like this. She tried calling once, then twice. Waited half an hour, then tried again. An hour before their lesson, she’d lost count of how many times she’d tried with no luck. So when the time came to meet him, she simply grabbed her things and headed to their usual spot.

A sideways wind scraped across the slopes, fine snow catching in the air like powdered glass. It clung to her sleeves and lashed her face as she stepped onto the trail. It wasn’t as strong as she had feared, still she wasn’t too convinced going cross-country was a good idea. On her way, she wondered whether leaving the house at all had been a good idea. It was a safe bet Marshall wouldn’t show up. He’d probably just chosen to enjoy an afternoon off with his phone unplugged.

To her astonishment, he was already there, waiting when she reached their meeting spot. He was leaning against the edge of a weathered signpost, hood pulled up, arms crossed tightly, trying to stay warm.

She nodded at him in greeting and pointed to the nearest tree line. He followed, slower than usual, skis dragging just slightly, like his body hadn’t caught up to the decision to move.

Among the trees, it was easier —more sheltered— and they managed to keep going without the wind pushing them back. They only had to be careful not to get tangled in low branches, but it wasn’t anything they hadn’t done before. There wasn’t much to say, and that was fine, the sound of the wind didn’t allow them anyway.

What called Elsa’s attention, more than the fact he had shown up, was the fact he didn’t glide the way he usually did. His rhythm was off, timing inconsistent. Midway through a narrow descent, he stumbled. His left ski caught and threw him forward. He barely managed to catch himself before hitting the ground face-first.

Elsa slowed and turned back to help him. “You okay?”

He gave a small nod but didn’t meet her eyes.

They kept going for a few minutes. She still stayed ahead, but not by much. Just enough to glance back now and then, keeping an eye on him. His shoulders were hunched against the wind that had picked up again, and she wasn’t convinced he was feeling well enough to keep moving in that weather.

When they paused to check their gear, he didn’t do what he usually did. No quick tug at the buckles. No stretches to keep warm. He just stood there, staring past her shoulder like his mind was elsewhere entirely.

Something was different about him and it was enough to make her worry. She approached him carefully. “Everything okay? You’re a bit off today.”

He blinked and looked at her. He looked worn and tired, perhaps the snowstorm hadn't treated him well the night before. I took him a bit longer than usual to reply and that helped her make up her mind. Knowing it was best to do what was right for him, Elsa took a sharp turn when they exited that part of the forest. 

Marshall hesitated for a split second, but followed nonetheless. They glided low, sticking close to the tree lines where the wind wasn’t as punishing. She stayed ahead, keeping the pace easy. Marshall lagged behind but didn’t complain. The sound of their skis was lost beneath the wind curling through the trees.

Oaken’s came into view ten minutes later, smoke curled from its chimney signalling it was open. Elsa breathed out in relief when they finally made it. They’d have a place to stay for a while until the wind calmed down.

Marshall looked up, confused as to what they were doing there. Before he had the chance to complain, Elsa took off her skis and walked through the door. He hesitated, looking like he might argue; but as soon as the wind howled again, loud enough to swallow any protest, he unlatched his own skis and followed her inside.

The air hit Elsa like a dense invisible wall as soon as she stepped into the bar. A few others had taken refuge, scattered across tables near the fireplace, their gear drying in piles by the door.

Marshall left his things on one of the piles by the door and moved slowly towards a table near the window. Elsa, on her part, debated whether to follow or leave. Her gloves were still on, and her skis sat just outside the door. She could just nod, wish him well, and leave. Though something stopped her. She guessed that whatever storm had passed through his night hadn’t fully left him, and she wasn’t going to pretend it wasn’t affecting him.

With a sigh, she took off her gloves and winter jacket, hung them near his things, and made her way to the table.

When she sat down across from him, he blinked in surprise. For a moment, he just looked at her. Then, finally, his mouth pulled into a small smile.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice low. “For the idea.”

Elsa nodded and then turned her gaze towards the fogged window. The wind hadn’t eased at all, and small snowflakes were beginning to hit the glass.

“Are you okay?” she finally asked, still unsure if it was her place to ask. But then again, there was no point for her to stay unless she tried asking what was wrong.

He didn’t answer right away. His fingers drummed once on the edge of the table, then stopped. His eyes dropped to his hands, and only at that moment did she notice the bruises around the knuckles. Finally, he exhaled through his nose and leaned back.

“I stayed up,” he said. “Most of the night.”

She tilted her head slightly. “Working?”

He shook his head. “Drinking.”

It wasn’t the whole truth. It didn’t explain why his fists looked the way they did, but it wasn’t a lie either. Elsa’s eyes flicked towards the bar, now empty but for one man hunched over the counter. She remembered seeing Marshall there more than once. And if her memory served her right, he’d been drunk the night she first met him.

She looked at him again, but she didn’t press. Whatever had kept him coming back to the bar was probably something he wouldn’t share with a stranger, and she wasn’t sure what to say if he did open up. Moments like this made her wish her brother could be there to help her. At least he’d understand him better.

“Do you want something warm?”

He looked at her, hesitated for a moment, until he nodded grateful for the offer. “That’d be good.”

---

Elsa came back with a steaming mug in her hands a few minutes later. She placed it in front of him without ceremony and explained she had brought him some hot chocolate, since she had no idea whether he liked coffee or tea.

Marshall looked at the drink, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He turned his attention back to her only to realise she hadn’t brought anything for herself.

“You didn’t get anything,” he said as he watched her sit.

She folded her arms across her lap and fixed her gaze somewhere near the window again as she explained she wasn’t cold.

He sighed —deep and tired—, trying in vain to ease the weight in his chest. He wrapped his hands around the mug. He enjoyed the warmth seeping into his fingers, numbing the pain for a moment, before he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He then threw it on the table between them.

Her eyes darted to the movement.

“Help yourself. For the lesson,” he added, with a small nod in the wallet’s direction.

She frowned and pushed the wallet back. “We’re at the bar. There was no lesson.”

Marshall sighed again. Moving his hand slowly, he peeled out a few bills and set them on the table. “There was time,” he said. “And I’m feeling ten times better than I did earlier thanks to you.”

A faint blush crept up Elsa’s neck, and only then he realised he’d said a bit more than he had intended. He’d known meeting her in that weather was a bad idea, but when he woke up —just an hour before their lesson— he figured some fresh air and exercise might help clear his head. He hadn’t been wrong, even if his skull felt like it might split open and his legs were made of lead.

She didn’t reach for the money, didn’t move to take it nor shove it back at him. She remained sitting uncomfortably in front of him.

He hesitated, wondering if it wasn’t better to shut up and let her do whatever she pleased. But as soon as his eyes fell on the hot drink she had bought him, he knew that wasn’t an option.

“At least let me pay for this drink. And some food… You didn’t get anything for yourself,” he insisted.

She looked at him then —not annoyed, but still uncertain. But she didn’t argue, and for him that was enough.

“Something to eat,” he said again, to himself this time. He then stood up and headed to the counter before she could change her mind. 

While he waited for their food —a simple board of cheese and cured meat— Marshall looked back at Elsa. He found it hard to believe the reason he had stayed up, drinking himself senseless, was sitting with him, inadvertently helping him overcome his hangover.

The more he looked at her, the more he realized how much he hated the way she folded into silence, as if any of this was remotely normal. How politely she treated him, when all he’d done was take advantage of her. How easy it had been to use her, and how any other bastard could do the same. And more than anything, he hated how much he cared about it all.

Oaken placed the board in front of him, the sound distracting him from his train of thought. He then poured some hot tea on a mug and filled a small bowl with pickled herring. Marshall looked strangely at the bowl, and then at Oaken.

“Don’t look at me. This is what she usually orders, ya.” 

The idea of mixing it with tea made his stomach churn, but he quietly accepted it. He paid for the food and offered to cover Elsa’s tab. Oaken smiled and told him how much she owed without complaint, something Marshall was quietly grateful for.

He took the board to the table first, then the mug of tea with the pickled herring on the side. He did it on purpose, to see her reaction, and to his consternation a big smile drew on her face when he placed the bowl and mug in front of her. He couldn’t help but think she was the strangest creature he had ever come across… in a cute kind of way.

She ate slowly, with careful motions, never quite relaxing into the chair but enjoying the food nonetheless. He, instead, picked at the food more than he ate. 

They didn’t talk much. This silence wasn’t quiet and peaceful, not like the silence that accompanied them in the snow. This silence edged in discomfort; the kind neither of them knew how to navigate.

The wind finally eased late in the afternoon, just enough for them to notice, and for more and more tourists to venture outside and end up drifting into the bar.

“I should go,” Elsa said when the noise around them became rather overwhelming.

Marshall didn’t stop her. He just nodded, watching as she made her way towards the door. Before she reached for her things, she paused and walked back to their table.

“Don’t stay too long,” she said, her voice gentle.

Marshall looked at her. She wasn’t smiling, but her expression was soft. She wasn’t scolding him, and she wasn’t telling him what to do either. She was merely asking him to look after himself.

He gave a small nod, almost imperceptible, unable to do or say anything else.

She thanked him for the food, smiled once more and before he knew she was gone.

Marshall looked at the clock on the other side of the room. It wouldn’t take Dan long to show up, and he was certain he’d start asking questions as to why he hadn’t gone to work. He then remembered he owed Westergaard an explanation. To his good luck, the weather had been on his side that morning, giving him a good enough excuse.

He stood up and made his way slowly toward the door, the sound of Elsa's gentle request lingering in his mind. For some reason he couldn't quite name, he didn’t want to disappoint her.

---

I’ve found this story is incredibly useful for my writer’s block. Ideas keep flowing and I’m eager to get back home everyday just to write. It’s amazing. I guess there was a reason I kept getting distracted with these ideas. It was clearly a story I wanted to tell.

I’m having a lot of fun finally getting to explore a bit more of Elsa’s past. Doing it properly and not through a fleeting comment or memory in Søsken is doing wonders. It’s also helping me shape a few things for my main story, so that works great.

Anyway, I hope you’re still having fun as well and that you get to enjoy this chapter as much as the others.

Let me know what you think! Hope to read you soon!

[lelitachay]

Frozen fanfiction: Kjølig Vennskap

Summary: Before the events of Søsken, two seemingly different lives cross paths. Marshall, trying to set his life straight, finds himself drawn to a young woman. While dealing with his own struggles, he takes advantage of Elsa’s trust. Guilt and quiet understanding shape the unspoken bond that forms between them. As the seasons pass, they begin to lift each other’s burdens, learning to rely on one another in ways neither expected.

Elsa - Marshall - Marshmallow - hurt/comfort - Modern AU - Søsken universe - Elsa & Marshall

Links: AO3 - HERE

Chapter 1 - Here

-

Sweet ones are hard to come across

It took Marshall a week to call.

He’d kept the flyer. Not for any noble reason, it had simply sat forgotten in his jacket pocket. And if he had to be honest, it had annoyed him more than once, getting in the way when he tried to reach for his keys or wallet. But every time he thought about throwing it away, he was reminded of how close he was to slipping into her shoes, ending in him putting it back inside the pocket as he cursed under his breath.

He didn’t tell Dan, nor the guys at the resort for that matter. After all, the only reason he decided to call was to save his arse; he wasn't proud of himself.

Westergaard was hiring. It was no longer a fleeting comment going around. The owner had seen a few candidates that week, and it was only a matter of time before he got tired of the complaints and hired whoever happened to walk through the door. So far three people had shown up. Dan didn’t know the first two, but he did recognise Elsa. She was the third to walk into the office. Her interview hadn’t lasted long —for what Dan had told him— but she was the only one who actually lived near the resort.

The idea of booking a class had crossed his mind as soon as Dan told him. Though at first, he didn’t give it much thought. Partly because he felt guilty about only wanting to see how good she really was, and partly because he wasn’t sure how useful the information would be. Even as he waited for Elsa to pick up, he kept thinking about hanging up. Despite his past mistakes, he liked to think he still had some decency left in him.

Elsa answered before he could make up his mind, and before he knew it, he had booked a single private lesson.

He didn’t mention the free lesson advertised on the flyer. If he was going to take advantage of her goodwill, the least he could do was pay her full fee. The rate was cheap. Meant to secure some work rather than charge what a professional lesson was worth. And the more he thought about it, the more he despised the man he was becoming. His grandfather would’ve been disappointed in him, no doubt. But then again, he was running out of options.

--

The following morning, he made his way to the slope she had chosen. It was far from the main runs and the main one near the resort —beyond a deep forest and above the cliff. It wasn’t easy to access, and Marshall doubted any amateur would willingly hike that far with so many easier options available.

The place was quiet. No tourists, no chatter, no signs of life. Realizing this made him both relax and wonder if she actually knew what she was doing.  Maybe he was overthinking and his doubts were unfounded. And perhaps booking a lesson to see what he was competing against wasn't worth the trouble. Despite the problems he'd been causing Westergaard, he knew the man wouldn’t hire someone unfit for the job.

He arrived over half an hour earlier, wanting to see the way she prepared for the lesson. He stood among the trees, away from the trail that led to the base of the slope and waited.

Elsa arrived ten minutes early. On foot. Completely alone.

Part of him wanted to warn her about the risks of meeting a strange man in the middle of nowhere. After all, she’d only asked for a name over the phone. Nothing else. It unsettled him more than he would've expected. Was someone aware she’d come all the way there to meet him? She wore no ski school coat nor ID badge. There was nothing to testify to her credentials —if she even had any— or that there was someone else working with her. She was by herself with that same beat-up jacket, a backpack and some old ski equipment.

Marshall sighed as he rubbed a hand over his face, he was regretting his decision already. Not only for wasting his time, but Elsa’s as well.

He watched as she ordered her own gear and equipment. She was quiet and efficient as she straightened the poles and set the skis. She was focused and methodical. Maybe a little tense, for some unknown reason.

She’d brought along extra skis and snow boots. It was a small detail that caught his attention. She’d asked for his boot size over the phone, but he hadn’t thought much about it at the time, especially since he’d told her he’d bring his own equipment. Yet, here she was, ensuring there was extra gear for them both. That detail alone was more than he had ever done for his own students. It rubbed him the wrong way, like she was more put-together than he was.

After a few minutes, he checked his watch and realised it was time for the lesson to start. He didn’t say a word though, and instead decided to stay where he was, leaning on a tree, arms crossed, simply watching.

She started warming up, stretching her arms and legs. Only checking the time sporadically.

He didn’t show up on time, but she waited. Ten minutes, then twenty. She stayed way past the half hour. As he watched her organise her things for a third time, he tried to put himself in her shoes for a moment. He realised then that he wouldn't have waited more than fifteen minutes. He would have already left, swearing like a sailor, making his way to Westergaard’s office to cross the client out of his list. One more thing she'd do differently.

She paced. Checked the time. Rechecked the trail. And when he was certain she was ready to leave, she sat down. Arms wrapped around her knees.

Marshall saw her try to keep it together, but he also saw the moment her hands balled into fists, the moment her breath caught in her throat. He didn't need to know her to understand her disappointment. After an hour, when it began to snow slowly, she packed up her things and left, the backpack hanging heavily on her shoulders.

He didn’t call after her. He didn’t follow. He simply stood there like an idiot, having wasted both their times.

--

That night he didn’t meet Dan at the bar. Still, he managed to drink one too many beers and he ended up calling her again.

She answered, despite how late it was. From the sound of her voice, he could tell she wasn’t pleased, but she remained as polite as the day before. That, more than anything, threw him off. He had stood her up on a cold, snowy morning, and now he was calling to reschedule like it was nothing. He wouldn’t have been half as patient in her place.

He tried to come up with an excuse, a task harder than usual with the alcohol dulling his thoughts. Eventually he managed to convince her by promising to pay for the lesson he’d missed.

After he hung up, he sat in silence, wondering why he kept insisting. He told himself it was about paying her what he owed. But the truth was, he wasn’t sure what else she might do differently. What else she might be quietly getting right. And he didn’t want to take any chances.

The second lesson was scheduled for the following morning. Boots crunching against the snow, Marshall paced the same spot where Elsa had waited for him the day before. A light snow storm had painted the landscape in white once more, the trees in the distance now barely recognisable. The cold chilled his bones, yet he stayed, waiting for her.

Just like before, Elsa arrived ten minutes before the lesson.

She approached him without a word, dropped her things between them, then crossed her arms and finally spoke. “You’re not late.”

Marshall used the moment to study her more closely. She wore the same thin jacket. The mere thought of being out here so inadequately dressed made him wince. Her cheeks were red from the wind, still she didn’t seem to mind. The shadows under her eyes suggested she hadn’t slept much, yet her gaze still carried a distinct shine. There was a spark, some eagerness or energy he couldn’t name, let alone share.

Adjusting his gloves, he avoided her eyes and gave her a half-shrug. “Didn’t want to keep you waiting.”

That earned him a dry look, but no reply. She didn’t ask why he hadn’t come the first time. She simply pointed at the slope and gestured for him to follow her.

“How much experience?” she asked, only when they were high enough for a simple descent.

“Enough,” he replied. “I’ve lived here my whole life. I’m not a tourist.”

That got her attention. She turned around to make sure he was being serious. “So… why the lesson?”

“I want to improve,” Marshall said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

She studied him for a moment. She must’ve sensed something was off, but she didn’t press. Instead, she nodded once and began her lesson.

“We’ll start with short turns. I want to see how you handle picking up the pace and slowing down.”

Marshall raised his eyebrows, surprised not only by Elsa’s straightforwardness but also by how easily she had trusted his word. He would’ve tested his own clients before starting a lesson, just to make sure they actually knew what they claimed. He wasn’t sure what was the best approach, but he couldn’t say he was displeased with hers.

Not wasting any more time, he did what she asked. Not to impress her —at least not on purpose— but to give her something to start with. When he came to a stop at the base,  he turned around and noticed her watching him, her expression unreadable from a distance. She slid down after him, stopping smoothly beside him.

“You’re using your hips too much. That’s why you’re catching the inside edge. Try using your core more, and keep your movements smaller. Don’t overdo it.”

Marshall stiffened. “Overdoing it?”

“You're trying to look like you know what you’re doing,” she said, tone calm and surprisingly kind. “But that’s not the same as doing it right.”

He stared at her, unsure of how to take her words. He didn’t want to admit it, but part of him wondered if she was right. He had been trying to make himself look better than he felt —an old habit that had only gotten worse in the last year. But he hadn’t meant to show off.

She stepped in front of him and, patiently, she demonstrated what she meant. Her voice didn’t waver, not even when he rolled his eyes and threw a sarcastic comment. She didn’t back up nor was she condescending. She simply taught what she thought was missing and treated him with the same kindness as before.

She showed him how to position his feet in a slightly different way. And then he tried again. And again. Until he understood exactly what she meant. When he turned around to see her reaction, she was already skiing down towards him. This time, she offered a small smile and gave him a simple nod.

“Better,” she said. “You’re more centered. Less effort for the same result.

Despite knowing she was right, and having actually improved at something he already knew, he felt frustrated. With her or with himself, he wasn’t sure.

Deep down he wanted to see what else he was doing wrong. Where else he was wasting his energy. Though he was still too busy thinking about how easily she’d slipped into the instructor role. How clearly she explained things. How much she understood the ground, the snow, the steepness. She knew how to break it down, how to deliver it in pieces that actually made sense. It was simple, and it worked. And more importantly, she didn't look like she was trying to prove anything to him. She just wanted to help him get it right.

Something twisted in his chest. It wasn't admiration, it wasn't envy either. Something strange in between.

He didn’t say much for the rest of the session. Just watched. Listened. Took in the little things: The way she paused to give him space when he got frustrated, the way she never raised her voice, the way she adjusted her pace according to the snow at her feet.

She was everything he wasn’t. And it scared the hell out of him.

“Who taught you?” he asked, still trying to catch his breath after two hours going up and down the slope. The things she could achieve in a single lesson if only she had access to a proper slope with rope tows or ski lifts.

Elsa hesitated for a moment, avoiding his eyes in the process. “My family.”

Marshall gave a small nod, not really buying it. The way she moved in the snow told a different story after all.

It was also strange how she managed to be so sure of herself when she was delivering her lesson. And so hesitant the second their conversation drifted to something other than the skis, the slope or the snow. She was quiet, distant in a completely different way than he was, and awkward when she wasn’t teaching. But as soon as their focus returned to the lesson, she became somebody else.

He wanted to transform like that. To manage his emotions and conceal everything in order to teach the way she did. It was easy to listen to. Easy to follow… Exactly what Westergaard needed.

After the lesson, they didn’t linger. He paid in cash, both classes, despite Elsa insisting it wasn't necessary. Only when he made it clear he wouldn’t book another lesson unless she took the money did she finally accept. She thanked him politely and slipped away before he could say anything else.

That night he didn’t sleep much. He stayed awake doodling and writing everything he could remember from the lesson in an old notebook.

--

The next morning, while the slopes were still wrapped in early fog, he walked into Westergaard’s office. There was a stiffness in his chest. And no matter how many times the voice at the back of his head told him the reason, he kept ignoring it.

As soon as Westergaard asked him what he wanted, he began telling him about restructuring his lessons. He needed smaller groups and less pressure, to allow for a more personal, deliberate approach. He remembered using the words “personal,” “deliberate,” —as if saying them out loud would somehow make the idea his own.

Westergaard didn’t even lift his eyes from the paperwork. “That’s not your usual style.”

“I want to adapt,” Marshall replied honestly. “Not everyone responds to drills. Perhaps the clients would appreciate a different method.”

Westergaard gave a slow nod. “We’ve been getting some complaints. I’m willing to let you try, but don’t waste this chance I’m giving you.”

Marshall nodded, knowing exactly what it meant. If things didn’t improve, he’d be out of the resort before the season was over.

He left the office with an ache in his stomach. He wanted to convince himself he was just nervous, as well as eager to try something different. But deep down he knew it had nothing to do with it.

That very same day he booked a new lesson.

It started with that third lesson, and then he couldn’t stop.

Elsa didn’t question it at first. There were tourists who stuck around too long, locals who spent their winters learning a new skill. Marshall wasn’t either of those things, but still she was happy to have someone booking lessons.

For his part, Marshall felt like a fraud every time he walked away. He kept insisting he just wanted to move better. To have more control on the ice. But he took advantage of her lessons in a way no-one else did. He asked too many questions. The kind people asked only if they were either very serious about learning or very lost.

Every quiet afternoon spent skiing with her gave him something new to bring back to his lessons: a phrase, a gesture, an easy enough drill. Things that worked. Things clients noticed.

Westergaard noticed too. “Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it,” he told Marshall one morning. And so he did. He couldn’t afford not to.

As long as Elsa didn’t ask questions, he’d keep doing it. She didn’t even seem to realize how much he was taking. But the guilt had started to settle in. Silent and sharp, like cold biting underneath his skin.

--

Okay… I’m both eager and nervous to see the reactions this chapter gets. If there weren’t countered opinions about Marshall already, I came up with this.

Funny thing, Marshall wasn’t supposed to stand Elsa up in the first lesson. But after a student of my own stood me up, I used that hour I had to waste to write, including that small detail. Don’t stand teachers up. Let them know you won’t be able to make it.

This message is part of the “Teachers are people too” movement. lol

I hope you have fun reading. Depending on the way people react to this, I might continue with this or Søsken. We’ll see. I wrote another scene for chapter 56 btw. I’m working on it, I promise. That’s why I haven’t been answering your comments lately. There are only so many words I can come up with in a week apparently.

Hope to read you soon!

[lelitachay]

Frozen fanfiction: Kjølig Vennskap

Summary: Before the events of Søsken, two seemingly different lives cross paths. Marshall, trying to set his life straight, finds himself drawn to a young woman. While dealing with his own struggles, he takes advantage of Elsa’s trust. Guilt and quiet understanding shape the unspoken bond that forms between them. As the seasons pass, they begin to lift each other’s burdens, learning to rely on one another in ways neither expected.

Elsa - Marshall - Marshmallow - hurt/comfort - Modern AU - Søsken universe - Elsa & Marshall

Links: AO3 - HERE

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I could tell right from the start

Despite the freezing temperature and the storms brewing over the peaks of the North mountain, Oaken’s bar was warm and welcoming. Dimly lit and rustic, it invited people to spend their evenings away from the unforgiving cold outside.

The smell of burning wood and beer clinged to every surface during the high season as noisy tourists sat close to the fireplace. Most of them were red-cheeked from the heat and alcohol, enjoying their time away from responsibilities to the fullest. Locals, on the other hand, stuck to the small tables and stools closer to the door and bar. They took slow, deliberate sips, letting whatever beverage they've chosen warm their bodies and temporarily wipe their problems away. 

Marshall sat hunched over a half-empty glass, his eyes fixed on nothing in particular. From time to time he looked over his shoulder to see if his favourite table had emptied, but to his thinning patience it was still being occupied by a group of tourists that evening. The young lads had come into the bar before him and Dan, forcing them to sit by the counter. His friend sat beside him, still in his ski clothes, not at all preoccupied about their sitting arrangements.

“So,” Dan said after taking a long swig. “Will you do what Westergaard suggests?”

“No,” Marshall muttered, the word coming out like a warning.

He was tired of going over this. For the past three weeks everything had revolved around the fact he was once again losing control, letting unimportant things affect him, and slowly, but steadily, ruining his chances to be offered a stable position as a ski instructor at the resort.

Dan finished his drink and raised a finger to ask for another one. Oaken nodded and promptly began to prepare one of the elaborate drinks Marshall had never truly enjoyed. He always preferred a cold beer. Not only was it cheaper, he could also drink more of them, spending more time at the Oaken's and less at home alone with his deprecating thoughts.

“It’s impossible to talk to you sometimes, did you know that?” Dan said as Oaken placed the glass in front of him.

“Yet here we are.”

“You’re insufferable,” he sighed, exasperated by his friend’s behaviour. “No wonder you chose the middle of nowhere to start over. You could pick up a fight with yourself if you commit to it.”

“I could also crack that thick head of yours open if I commit to it,” Marshall said without looking at him. “So don’t cross me.”

“See what I mean? Who the hell speaks like that?” His friend gave a dry laugh, shaking his head. “You’ll lose your job, and then what?”

“I don’t know, mate.” He dragged a hand down his face before he turned to him. “And to be honest with you, I don’t care. Let them complain all they want. I’m not going to pretend I give a damn. Either they want to listen and learn, or they leave. I won’t be wasting my time.”

“You're the one who wanted to become an instructor. You should give a damn,” he said, poking Marshall’s shoulder. “Westergaard will kick you out if you mess this up. Word says he's created an opening. If it's true and someone better than you shows up, you're done.”

“Then I’ll work independently.”

His friend scoffed, leaning back. “As if that’s ever worked. There’s a reason no one works independently anymore. It’s a waste of time. What could you offer the clients that Westergaard hasn’t included in some fancy package already?”

“I know the mountain and its slopes better than most. And I'm good at what I do.” He took a long swig, emptying his mug. “Rich spoiled kids can stick to his fancy resort. Experienced skiers and climbers will sooner or later end up coming my way.”

Dan watched him for a moment, his eyes studying his face for any trace of humour, when he found none he turned back to his drink. “You should go back to your shrink, mate. You’re delusional.”

Marshall turned back to the counter as well, signaling Oaken for another beer in the process. “I have no idea why I put up with you still.”

His friend grinned. “Because I’m the only one who isn’t scared you’d—”

“Excuse me.” A soft voice interrupted them.

“Yeah? Can I help you?” Dan's words came out sharper than intended, directed at the girl standing at their back.

Marshall turned around, his eyes scanning the young woman. She had pale skin and a long platinum blonde braid that contrasted with her ice-blue eyes. Her light ski jacket looked too thin for the weather, and her worn-out boots and woollen hat didn’t seem to offer much protection against the cold either. Despite her flimsy attire, she didn’t seem the least bothered by the freezing air seeping in through the gaps of the door.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she said quickly. By the way she was standing it was clear she was talking to Dan, though she barely made eye contact with him as she spoke. “I just wanted to offer you and your friend a free ski lesson.”

Marshall blinked, trying to understand what made her think the two of them, out of everyone at the bar, would be needing ski lessons. Dan was still in his ski clothes, after all. 

“Excuse me?” said Dan, clearly as confused as Marshall.

“I—” she sighed, trying to find the right words to explain herself. “I’m a ski instructor. I’m offering a free lesson to tourists.”

Dan paused, blinking at her like she was messing with them. “Yeah, I can see that…” He then gestured towards the crowded room at her back. “You should try those tables over there. We don't need it.”

She looked back at the crowded tables and hesitated. Digging into her pocket, she pulled out some small, poorly cut flyers. She handed it to Dan with a tight smile. “You can keep it… in case you change your mind?”

Dan looked at the flyer, brows narrowing for a moment before he met her eyes and mirrored her uncomfortable smile. He didn’t move to take it, so she left it awkwardly on the counter between them. The silence stretched before she finally walked away.

Marshall kept his eyes on her for a moment, watching her walk quietly to his favourite table. At least the people sitting there this time were tourists, perhaps they would be more welcoming than his friend.

Dan picked the flyer, pursing his lips as he read it.

“See what I mean?” He held the flyer up for Marshall to see. “It’s pathetic. You’ll be doing this in a few weeks if you don’t start listening to Westergaard.”

Squinting, he tried to read the words. He wasn't sure if he was a bit more drunk than he had imagined, or if his friend kept moving his hand, but he couldn't make out the words written on it.

“Though you’d at least be wise enough to print these and not let a child write them. I can’t even read this.”

“It can’t be that bad.”

“See it for yourself,” he said, throwing it on the counter.

Marshall took the flyer, brows furrowing as he tried to make sense of the scribbled letters and amateur layout. “Oh…”

“Oh indeed,” laughed Dan. “Poor gal, she’ll starve. She couldn’t even introduce herself.”

“You could have been nicer to her.” Crumpling the piece of paper, he turned it into a small ball and tried to toss it into Dan’s glass. It missed its target and Dan grabbed it before he could give it another try.

“You’re kidding me, right?” his friend laughed. “We’re here discussing your imminent sacking because you can’t be nice to your own clients, and you pretend to lecture me on the way I spoke to her?”

“The spoiled rich kids I teach deserve it. Not this girl.” Turning around he tried to spot her in the crowded bar.

She was still walking around tables and booths, holding out flyers with a rehearsed smile that didn’t reach her eyes. He watched as one group shook their heads. Another waved her off without even looking at her. A man at the back did reply, but whatever he said made his friends laugh, and by the way her shoulders stiffened Marshall guessed it was a joke at her expense.

“She’s just trying to make ends meet, like all of us.”

“Marshmallow, look at this,” his friend said mockingly. Uncrumpling the paper and showing it to him again. “This is not trying to make ends meet. I don’t even know what this is.”

“Could you keep it down?” he begged, turning around to make sure she wasn’t within earshot. “And don’t call me that.”

Sighing once again, Dan crumpled the paper once again. “Well, stop being overly sensitive for a gal who would most likely take your place at the resort given the chance.”

Dan stood up and drank what was left in his glass. He placed his hands on Marshall’s shoulders and reminded him, “If you continue acting like an arse to the clients, Westergaard will kick you out. And I won’t risk my job to try and change his mind… Anyway, I’d better head home.”

“I’ll stay a while.”

“Don’t drink yourself to sleep.” He patted his shoulders one last time and bid him goodbye.

“I don’t do that anymore,” Marshall said, loud enough for him to hear over the people.

A faint breeze rolled through the door as it shut behind his friend. He was left alone staring down at the crumpled flyer, the paper now wet with ink smudging on the corners.

---

Time went by faster than he imagined. He’d stayed to finish just his third mug. A couple more minutes, he had told himself. Yet once again he found himself emptying a fifth —or was it sixth— beer mug. The hum of conversations lowered for only a few minutes until another crowd arrived, replacing the drunk tourists with fresh noisy ones. It was the usual scene, though he felt ashamed to say he usually stayed long enough to know when the crowd rotated. Noise, toasts and laughs filled the bar again, while he remained hunched over his drink, thinking about the mess his life had become.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the door open and close again. It was getting late, but there she was again. The girl with the thin clothes and flyers.

This time he didn’t show any reservations and turned around to follow her with his eyes as she worked. She walked from one table to the other, and every time she got the same dismissive look or shake of the head. Not one single table paid her any attention. And before she reached the last few tables, she had stopped trying altogether. She simply walked around placing poorly cut flyers on the edge of tables.

He pretended he wasn’t looking at her when she got closer to the now empty counter to greet Oaken. And even good-natured Oaken shook his head when she offered him some extra flyers.

“You know I don’t mind, ya,” Oaken said, his voice softer than usual. “But we still have plenty from last time.”

“Right…”

Marshall heard her say as she tried to offer a polite smile, but all she managed was a strained one.

“Well, thank you. I hope I didn’t bother your customers too much.”

She hesitated for a moment until she finally made up her mind and offered one to Oaken with a shy, apologetic, gesture.

He shook his head gently. “I could’ve used it years ago, before I cracked my back,” he joked. “Thanks anyway.”

Pathetic. The word his friend had used to describe her situation. But the more he looked at her—trying so damn hard—he realised there was nothing pathetic about it. It was a desperate attempt to earn a living. And suddenly, as a lump rose in his throat, he saw himself reflected in her. That could be him. And not in some distant, hypothetical future. Soon. A few more arguments. A few more clients, walking away with complaints. One failed attempt to control his anger and then everything he had been working on for the past year would go to waste. He’d be at square one for a third time, and then what?

He had lost a job he liked, a job he enjoyed for his own stupidity already. Leaving the city behind hadn't been hard. He was convinced it was the only good thing that had happened to him after being sacked from the hospital. But losing one of the few available jobs in the mountain meant having to start over.

“I’ll have one,” he heard himself say before his thoughts spiralled out of control.

Elsa turned to him, surprised. She stepped closer and handed it to him with a small, honest, smile.

He felt sick for a moment, and it had nothing to do with him being drunk. It was the empty promise he was giving her. He didn’t need her lessons. He wouldn’t book a lesson. But if he could help her feel less invisible, at least for just one night, then he was willing to pretend.

“Thank you…” he trailed off, hoping she’d introduce herself.

“Elsa,” she said, and before he said anything else she walked out the door.

He looked at the flyer in his hand. The handwriting was as terrible as the first flyer he’d seen, but at least her number was clear enough. He shook his head and reminded himself he had no reason to book a class.

With a sigh, he turned back to the counter, finished his beer and asked Oaken for another.

“No more beer for you. Seven is more than enough for a Thursday, ya.”

Seven. So it hadn’t been his fifth mug of the night after all.

“It’s the third time I've seen you here this week,” he said, trying to sound casual, but even in his state he could hear the concern behind his words.

Marshall folded the flyer neatly and put it in his pocket.

“Well,” he said, voice low. “It hasn’t been a very good week.”

He gave a small, understanding nod, as if he knew exactly what kind of bad week he meant. 

Marshall then stood up, hoping the old man wouldn’t try to start a conversation. His head was pounding and it was best to go. He clenched his jaw as he tried to take a steady step, soon regretting not having followed Dan earlier. The lump in his throat returned as he realised he needed to fix the mess his life had turned into.

---

I know I was supposed to keep working on Søsken. I’ve been trying — I’ve written a few scenes for chapter 56 already, but none of them felt quite right. I couldn’t find the rhythm, and eventually, I realized I needed to decompress. To let something out of my system before I could move forward with those scenes.

There’s been this other idea turning in my head for months — dialogues, fragments of a story saved in half-empty documents. And this past weekend, it hit me: this is what’s been holding me back. Not because it has to be written before I continue with Søsken, but because I need to let this story into the wild first. To clear the space it’s been occupying in my mind.

I’m planning to release one or two chapters of this story. Nothing big. Just to see how it feels, both for you and for me. After that, I’ll continue with chapter 56. Maybe I’ll end up jumping between the two stories for a bit. This one shouldn’t be long after all. It’s set before Søsken and meant to fill in a little more about Elsa and Marshall’s past. Nothing more.

And well… as if Marshall wasn’t already a controversial enough character, I give you this. lol. I hope you enjoy it. And don’t worry Søsken is still my main focus. This story only exists because I just can’t stop thinking about its universe.

Take care, hope to read you soon!

[lelitachay]

Ides of march aside. I also celebrate the day Homer decided to go into nature and write his memoir.

[lelitachay]

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

Tumblr -

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

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Pain on pain

A strange sense of trepidation set in Anna's chest the moment she walked into Elsa’s room. No matter how many times she had visited her unconscious sister in the ICU, getting to see her now was messing with her emotions in a completely different way.

Knowing Elsa was now fully conscious and facing a painful recovery only reminded Anna of her sister’s childhood. It was difficult to ignore how hard it was for her to endure yet another distressing rehabilitation. Despite the lack of detailed records regarding her medical history at Weselton’s clinic, or the full extent of his experiments, Nielsen and the medical team concluded that Elsa likely suffered from serious infections throughout her childhood—her weakened immune system providing a reasonable explanation for the severity of her condition.

The weight of these revelations pressed heavily on Anna, but she forced herself to focus. Shaking her head, she tried to get rid of the disturbing thoughts and turned to focus on the nurse’s voice, hoping her recommendations would bring some clarity on how best to help her sister.

The kind woman had patiently explained everything they needed to know about the medical equipment and the rules inside Elsa’s room. Anna had listened attentively, right up until they stepped inside, when her attention was drawn to Elsa. She glanced at Kristoff, hoping he had paid more attention than she had, but to her consternation, he stood frozen at the threshold, his eyes fixed on Elsa's sleeping form.

"Is there anything else you need to know?" The nurse looked at Anna, waiting for any questions, but all she could offer was a shy smile.

“I'm sorry,” she said in a low voice. “It's never easy to see her like this.”

With her eyes closed, Elsa appeared to be a long way from recovery. Though her skin no longer had the sickly grey undertone from the weeks before, the contrast with the dark circles under her eyes and the bruises on her arms was impossible to ignore. The sharpness of her cheekbones stood out, showing a prominent weight loss, and every faint rise and fall of her chest under the loose hospital gown made her look thinner—smaller— than she’d ever seen her.

“No worries,” answered the woman with a sympathetic smile.

“I've got to be honest,” Anna said, trying to justify her lack of attention. “I was counting on his mother to be here to explain all these things to us…” She gestured towards Kristoff, whose eyes were still fixed on his sister.

Having left the room just before they entered the ward, Gerda had taken the opportunity to meet with Nielsen and her husband. Moving Elsa to a regular ward meant she would be more exposed, more vulnerable. And while Anna understood the risks involved couldn't be ignored, she had been hoping for Gerda to be with them for a few minutes before her meeting.

“Make yourselves comfortable and let me know if there’s anything you need. I’ll be in the office at the far end of the ward, near the entrance.”

With a gentle pat on Kristoff’s arm, the nurse asked for permission to walk out of the room, and only then he seemed to come out of his trance. Anna encouraged him to sit on the chair by the bed while she closed the door to give them some privacy.

Anna took a moment to scan the new room. It was slightly bigger than the one in the ICU, offering more space to move comfortably. The room felt cozier, not as sterile as the one in the ICU. A relatively large window on the left let in a soft, cool breeze, and a small couch in the corner was a nice addition, providing enough room for Gerda or Kai to join them.

Before Anna’s eyes reached the bed, Elsa began to stir and her eyes fluttered open. They were distant, just like she remembered from the last time she had seen her. Even though they were no longer glassy from the fever, they were now dulled and cautious—tired in a way that went beyond just physical exhaustion. Elsa’s fingers twitched slightly and Kristoff wasted no time and wrapped his hand in hers. He remained quiet, though, afraid one wrong word might disturb his sister.

Anna, on the other hand, took a couple of steps closer to the bed and greeted Elsa, her voice wavering only a bit. "Hey," she said softly, "It's us."

Elsa’s gaze drifted between Anna and Kristoff, once, then twice. Eyes blinked heavily as they tried to make sense of their presence. "Anna," she whispered, her voice raspy but still carrying a hint of familiarity. "Kristoff. You’re here.”

"Hi, sis.” Kristoff answered, his grip tightening ever so slightly on her hand. “We are. And we’re not going anywhere.”

His words seemed to calm Elsa, easing her breathing and relieving the tension in her body. She shifted slightly, attempting to find a more comfortable position. Despite the sharp pain flickering across her face, neither of them moved, allowing her to adjust at her own pace. Both Nielsen and Gerda had emphasised the importance of not pushing Elsa too hard and giving her the time she needed to regain her mobility.

Not feeling comfortable watching her sister struggle with the simplest of movements, Anna focused her attention on the light green blanket that covered her feet and adjusted it slightly. At every wince, she felt her heart tighten painfully, barely standing the feeling of impotence for not being able to help her.

“Does it hurt too much?” she asked softly.

Once Elsa rested her back and adjusted her injured arm, she offered a weak smile. The one they knew she used when she was lying. “It’s fine.”

Kristoff exhaled sharply through his nose. “Fine? Elsa, you almost—”

“Do you know what happened?” Anna interrupted, not before sending Kristoff a warning glance. The last thing they needed was to overwhelm her so suddenly.

Elsa nodded. “Gerda told me what happened…” Pulling her hand from Kristoff’s grasp, she absentmindedly brushed her fingers over something under her gown, just above her chest. “So did Marshmallow.”

A brief flicker of pain crossed Kristoff’s eyes, but he pushed the feeling aside. “You shouldn’t have let it get this bad,” he said under his breath.

“I never thought it would get this bad,” Elsa murmured, her eyes focusing on her injured hand. “It didn’t—.”

“That’s not an excuse,” Kristoff shot back, sharper than he intended, making both Anna and Elsa flinch. “Your hand must’ve been throbbing with pain for days.”

The guilt on Elsa’s face was immediate, and she made an effort not to meet his gaze. “I didn’t want to be a burden,” she admitted, her voice so low Anna could barely hear her from where she was standing.

“That’s what scares me,” Kristoff said quietly, the anger draining into something much softer and sadder. “That after everything you’ve been through, you keep insisting on facing everything on your own.”

Anna placed a hand on Kristoff’s shoulder, giving him a silent plea to ease up. She could see Elsa shutting down, retreating ever so slightly into a guarded shell. “Kristoff,” she said gently, wanting to put a stop to it as soon as possible. “She’s here.”

Kristoff rubbed a hand over his face, nodding as he fought to keep his composure.

Elsa refused to meet their eyes but still muttered a faint, “I’m sorry.”

In a swift movement, Kristoff wrapped his arms around his sister, forgetting for a moment about all the recommendations given . “Sorry,” he said, his throat constricting. “I— I was so afraid.”

Anna settled on the edge of the bed, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth when she noticed Elsa wrapping an arm around her brother’s shoulders. Elsa’s hand was trembling slightly, but she managed to tighten her fist on his cotton jacket, pulling him closer.

"Afraid doesn’t quite describe it,” Anna admitted as she caressed Elsa’s leg over the blanket.

She tried not to grimace at how thin her sister’s shin felt to the touch, and once again Anna’s chest tightened, concern about Elsa’s recovery washing over her. “Do you feel okay? I mean, I know ‘okay’ is a long way off, but… how are you feeling?"

Elsa let go of her brother and Kristoff understood it was best not to hold on too long and give her some space. Elsa’s lips pressed together in thought as she tried to come up with the right words.

“I don’t know,” she finally said. “I’m tired, and it still hurts to move. But beyond that... It's like everything is muted.”

Anna’s brows knitted together in worry. “Muted?”

She tugged at her bandages, lost in thought for a long moment. “Like I’m not quite here.”

“Your body’s been through a lot. It’s normal for things to feel strange for a while.” Unsure of what else to say, she squeezed her sister’s knee reassuringly.

There was a long silence where Elsa kept toying around with the bandages, too absorbed into her own thoughts to notice the worried glances between the couple.

Kristoff cleared his throat, drawing her sister back to the present. “Is there anything you need? To make things easier, I mean.”

Her gaze met his, wavering with uncertainty. “I'd like to go home.”

Kristoff sat back with a sigh, as if he had known the request was coming. “Elsa, you’re still healing…”

“It’ll be a while until you can leave the hospital, Elsa. I’m sorry.” Anna explained, helping Kristoff deliver the bad news. “Is there anything else?”

Leaning back against the pillow, Elsa looked out the window, her eyes fixed on the clouds washed with the copper sunlight of the evening. “Can you stay then?”

Anna smiled softly. “Of course.”

---

The breeze from the window grew colder as daylight faded. Night came faster than Anna expected; and even though Elsa had spent most of the time drifting in and out of light sleep, Anna couldn’t bear the thought of the visiting hours to be over.

She was grateful Marshall was running late that evening. He hadn’t shown up at eight like he usually did, and Anna suspected he was in the same meeting Kristoff had been called to half an hour before.

There were moments when she felt like she should be part of those meetings. Sometimes she wanted—needed—to know what the rest of the family was agreeing to do with Elsa’s recovery and her safety. But then on times like this, she was relieved she wasn’t needed every minute, like Gerda, Kai, or even Kristoff.

Sitting by her sister’s side felt like the only right place to be, even when they weren’t saying much, and Elsa seemed distant. The more time Anna spent with her sister, the more she realized how much she had missed her during those weeks. Being there with her, keeping her company, was enough.

Some minutes went by in silence until the door creaked open softly and Marshall walked into the room. He was still wearing the same pale cable-knit jumper he had been wearing ever since the nights grew colder, and Anna couldn’t help wondering if he’d gone back to his place at all since Elsa had fallen ill. He paused just beyond the threshold, his usually stoic face softening the moment he noticed Elsa on the bed, still awake.

“Els,” he greeted, his voice carrying a carefree undertone Anna hadn’t heard from him in weeks. “I’m glad to see you have company.”

He smiled and offered Anna a brief nod before closing the door and making his way to the other side of the bed.

“I’m sorry for being late today,” he said as he carefully sat on the edge of the bed. Absent-mindedly tucking a strand of Elsa’s hair behind her ear, he continued asking her about her day and the way she felt.

The motion was effortless, like something he had done a hundred times before and it caught Anna off guard. What surprised her the most was seeing Elsa barely react to the gesture. Her sister seemed unbothered, completely at ease with his touch, and Anna’s early worries washed away for a brief moment. Perhaps Elsa wasn’t completely withdrawn and closed off as she had feared.

Anna felt a pang of jealousy for a short moment. She hadn’t mentioned her injured hand itching, nor the bandages being uncomfortably tight around her hand during the afternoon. The same way she hadn’t admitted feeling nauseous either. However, she quickly pushed it aside, feeling good that Elsa was willingly opening up—if only slightly—and sharing a bit more of the way she felt.

She knew it was a matter of time until things went back to the way they were before. It would take Elsa a while, but she was certain she’d start opening up to her as well. She couldn't ignore Marshall had been a constant presence in Elsa’s life for the last few weeks after all. He had probably seen her at her worst already. Admitting feeling nauseous now was probably just a small part of everything he had witnessed.

Once their conversation was over, Anna asked Marshall about her sister’s recovery and the things she had to keep an eye on. He had only begun to answer her question when the door opened wide. A woman in her early fifties with a round, motherly figure, bustled into, surprising the three of them.

“No sitting on the bed.” Her voice filled every corner of the room, forcing Marshall to his feet in an instant.

Her warm, expressive eyes gave her an air of familiarity. While her posture and demeanour, on the other hand, gave her an air of authority. Of someone who had spent years mastering the chaos inside the wards and was best not to challenge.

Realization didn’t take long to wash over Marshall when he turned around. He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off before he could say a word.

“If it ain't Marshy himself,” she said loudly, wasting no time in trying to embarrass him. “I didn't believe Frida when she told me the man looking after this young lady was you.”

“Ingrid?” he asked, taken aback by her presence.

“So you do remember me,” she said, closing the door. “I didn't expect you to visit us at the hospital after everything that happened, but you could've called, don’t you think?” Turning to Anna she smiled mischievously before she continued. “I know spending time with beautiful young girls is more appealing, but it wouldn’t hurt to invite an old lady out for a coffee sometime.”

He rolled his eyes and tried to ignore her comments, but Anna could see a faint flush creeping up his neck. Going straight to what concerned him, he asked, “What are you doing here?” 

“What do you think?” she asked with a snicker. Turning to Anna once again, she looked as if she was looking for confirmation. “Not the sharpest knife in the drawer, is he?”

This time Anna couldn’t suppress her laugh and she looked down as not to laugh in Marshall’s face.

“I meant in this room.”

Anna could hear the annoyance in his voice, though he remained calm as if the woman’s remarks were nothing new. Ingrid ignored his question and walked to a small table, placed a few items on it, and only then turned to Marshall. She stood in front of him and raised an arm to reach his face. “Look at you. The mountain has been rough on your skin. And you keep that filthy beard. Such a handsome boy you were once.” She then patted his face with a familiarity that surprised Anna and moved to the side to continue with her tasks.

“Ingrid,” Marshall repeated her name, begging for her to answer his question.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking what you're doing here?” She smirked. “Though I think I already know the answer.” She glanced at Elsa and then sent a wink to Anna.

“I… It’s not—” He stuttered, struggling to hide his embarrassment. “Could you answer the question?

“This is my ward. You better get used to seeing me around here,” she finally said firmly. Moving to the foot of the bed she picked up the clipboard and took notes on a small notepad. She then got closer to Elsa and shooed Marshall away from the bed. “Move. Let me do my job.”

Her expression softened when her eyes met Elsa’s. “There's no need for you to be so tense, dear. I’ll be out of here in a blink.”

Anna smiled, relieved to see Ingrid do her job with a gentleness she hadn’t shown before. She asked Elsa a few questions, checked her blood pressure, oxygen levels and temperature. She then tried moving Elsa’s left hand to inspect the wound, but Elsa pulled her hand away from the nurse.

“Let me help you,” Marshall said without hesitation, taking her place and asking Elsa to let them see her hand. He carefully unwrapped the bandages and allowed Ingrid to assess the wound.

“She mentioned the bandages were too tight.” Anna mentioned. Elsa hadn’t complained about them to her in particular, but she felt it was worth letting the nurse know.

Curiosity got the best of Anna, and she stood up to take a closer look at Elsa’s injured hand. Two jagged scars were visible. A long one ran along the palm, extending into her forearm where the doctors had worked to repair the tissue. The other, smaller, cut diagonally across her palm, from her thumb toward her little finger. The skin around the wound was red and slightly swollen, as if her body was still fighting the last remnants of the infection. There were still a few faint patches of bruising along the edges, slowly fading.

Elsa’s fingers moved stiffly, reluctant to bend too far, but only a small tremor of discomfort betrayed her surprisingly calm exterior. Once Marshall had taken the nurse’s place, cradling her hand gently, her reluctance disappeared. Though she nearly glanced at her wound before she turned her gaze elsewhere. Her expression was distant as if she had become reluctantly accustomed to the intrusive visits and her body’s limitations. Yet, Anna could see a deep dejection in her eyes. Something that, despite everything Elsa had lived through, hadn’t been there before. It made her fear that what they mistook for calmness was, in fact, a resignation too heavy to bear.

With a heavy heart, Anna sat back down and silently hoped for the nurse to finish her round soon. All she wanted was Elsa to be left alone for the night. She couldn’t bring herself to be angry with the medical staff for doing their job, but her heart ached for her sister regardless.

Before leaving, Ingrid made another sarcastic remark about Marshall’s diligent work and left them on their own. The three of them remained quiet for a long time, after that. Each preoccupied with their own concerns: Marshall remained by the door, resting his back on a wall with his arms crossed. Anna stayed where she was, sitting by Elsa’s bed, quietly allowing the early uneasiness to take over while she looked at Elsa, who remained in her own world.

A moment later, Frida, the nurse who had accompanied Elsa from the very beginning, stopped by. She greeted them with a smile and administered Elsa the last dose of medicine for the day. She reminded Anna visit hours were over at ten and made sure to check if Marshall was the one staying for the night. When he nodded, she wrote it down and she told him he’d be able to find her in the small office near the entrance.

Anna thought it was odd for more than one nurse to show up in such a short time span, but she didn’t question it. Instead she made sure to keep Elsa company, talking about the simplest things she could come up with until the medicine ran its course and she began to drift off to sleep.

It didn’t take long for Elsa to fall asleep, and only then Anna dared ask Marshall about the nurse who had single-handedly made a fool out of him.

“Ingrid seems lively,” she said, hoping the mountaineer would share a bit of his life with her.

“She shouldn’t be here,” he said, still absorbed in his thoughts. 

He rummaged through his jeans pockets until he found a ragged piece of paper and sat down on the small couch with a tired sigh.

Anna made sure Elsa was fast asleep before she got closer. “What?”

“She isn’t on this list.” He handed the folded paper to Anna. “Nielsen never mentioned her name either.”

“What do you mean?” Anna paid a quick look at the short list of names written on the paper. Four nurses and two doctors. Six people in total and none of them was Ingrid. “I thought you knew her.”

“I do. We used to work together.” he said, taking the list off her hand and folding it once again. “It doesn’t change the fact she shouldn’t be here.”

Looking over her shoulder, Anna made sure Elsa hadn’t woken up. She sat down next to Marshall and asked in a low voice. “You don’t trust her?”

“It’s not that…” He looked at the closed door, his brows knitting together. “She’s a dedicated nurse. She instructed me and guided me when I was just starting as a paramedic.”

“Could it be that Nielsen trusts that Elsa's powers won’t act up?” She whispered. “Perhaps these people know about her powers.” She pointed at the folded piece of paper. “While the rest of the staff will simply continue their work as if she was just another patient.”

“I don’t know.” He breathed out tiredly, no remnants of his originally calm demeanour left. “I’ll have to ask Nielsen about it.”

Anna’s gaze dropped to the floor, her fingers tightening around the fabric of her sleeves. The unfairness of it all consumed her suddenly. The uncertainty about Elsa’s safety piled up with the concerns about her health and the way she dealt with recovery. It all felt like too much to hold and she could barely hold back the tears welling in her eyes.

The door creaked open for the third time in the last hour, and this time Gerda stepped into the room. Anna quickly blinked the tears away but allowed Marshall to answer whatever questions her mother-in-law had. They were mostly health related and she didn’t suspect the way she was feeling.

To Anna’s surprise, Marshall made sure not to mention Ingrid nor his concerns, and instead talked to Gerda calmly as if things were running its course smoothly. It was clear he was trying to reassure Gerda she could go home to rest.

With a smile she thanked them both and walked to Elsa’s bed. Placing a hand on her forehead, she brushed a few stray strands of hair before she leaned down to kiss her sleeping daughter goodbye. She quietly promised to return in the morning and then made her way towards the door. Only then, she turned to Anna.

“It’s almost ten, dear. You can come back with us in the morning if you’d like.”

Anna nodded. She picked her jacket and sent her sister one last look before she left the room in silence.

---

Taking up Gerda’s offer, Anna returned to the hospital the following morning. Most of the morning, she stayed with her mother-in-law keeping Elsa company. Once again, Elsa drifted in and out of sleep, barely present, and Anna didn’t need a medical degree to see that the drugs kept her sister trapped in constant lethargy—yet she never looked truly rested.

Anna then left the hospital at midday and ran errands for Gerda during the early afternoon in an attempt to ease the woman’s load. Day by day, Anna noticed that despite Elsa's slow recovery, Gerda seemed more tired, and she worried that the pressure would finally break her before Elsa was released from the hospital.

When she returned to the hospital, she was surprised to hear an unusual voice coming from her sister’s room.

“Take it slow, Elsa. Just one step at a time.”

It called her attention, and so she stopped on her tracks right outside the door. She shifted the bag in her arm and slowly pushed the door open. She tilted her head and discreetly scanned the room. Gerda was standing by the bed keeping a steadying hand on Elsa’s back as she made an effort to stand on her own.

At first, Anna could barely contain her happiness at seeing Elsa standing on her own after so long. Though the initial excitement slowly faded when Anna noticed the tension in Elsa’s body and the stiffness of her posture. She was barely upright, gripping the rail of the hospital bed for support, her knuckles white with effort as she tried in vain to stop her legs from trembling.

A rehabilitation doctor stood close to the bed, but far enough to give Elsa space to take a few tentative steps. He encouraged her to try moving her feet, and despite the pain written all over her face, she still obeyed. She slid a foot forward, in a weak unsteady step, and then the other. A sharp breath caught in her throat at the motion, but she refused to stop.

From where she was standing, Anna could see Elsa’s legs shaking and her balance slipping, but before she could fall, Gerda reacted instinctively and caught her daughter in her arms.

Elsa collapsed against her, breathing heavily. For a moment, it seemed like she might pull away as soon as she regained her footing. But something shifted. Before Gerda could ask if she was okay, Elsa wrapped her arms around her, gripping her mother’s shirt like a lifeline.

Gerda’s eyes widened for a split second before softening. She held her daughter close, stroking her back in slow, soothing circles. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re doing so well.”

From the doorway, Anna watched as her sister clung to her adoptive mother like never before. She swallowed hard, a vise tightening around her chest when she heard a muffled sob escape Elsa as she buried her face in her mother’s shoulder. Gerda held her tighter, whispering something too soft for Anna to hear.

After a minute, Elsa’s breathing steadied and slowly, hesitantly, she pulled back from Gerda’s embrace. Anna expected her to step away and retreat, as she so often did, but instead she adjusted her grip, her good hand holding onto Gerda’s forearm for support.

Gerda held her breath for just a second, but otherwise remained unaffected as she brushed the damp hair from Elsa’s forehead. “It’s going to be fine,” she murmured, a reassurance meant for them both.

Elsa lowered her gaze, letting go of Gerda’s arm as she nodded.

“That’s enough for today, Elsa.” The doctor spoke softly. “I agree with your mother, you did well.”

Elsa didn’t react at first, her eyes still focused on the floor between them, but as soon as the doctor called her name again, she blinked and shifted her weight slightly. Gerda reached for her, but Elsa had already started moving towards the bed.

Anna knew she was trying not to show it, but the pain still controlled every movement.

Gerda stepped forward, her arm outstretched. “Here, let me—”

“I’ve got it,” Elsa murmured, though there was no strength behind the words.

---

The moment Elsa’s legs gave out, warmth enveloped her. She hadn’t meant to collapse into Gerda, but her body refused to pull away. As soon as she felt the comfort of her arms, the familiar safety they provided, she realised how much she had missed her.

A lump formed in her throat and before she could stop herself, tears slipped down her face, burning hot against her cold skin.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Gerda whispered, her steady hands keeping her from crumbling. “You’re doing so well.”

Elsa squeezed her eyes shut as a sob escaped her. She wanted to believe Gerda, but her legs hurt, her ribs protested with each breath, and her stomach churned as the dizziness from the medication pressed into her mind. She could feel the weight of the exhaustion pulling at her limbs and she felt helpless.

Kristoff and Anna’s voices, telling her she couldn’t go home, echoed in her mind, and only now did she understand what they meant. She couldn’t go home. Not like this. And she was too tired to pretend otherwise.

Slowly, she loosened her grip and forced herself to steady herself. As she pulled back, her hand brushed against something under Gerda’s shirt. Elsa’s fingers hovered over it for a fraction of a second as her gaze flickered to Gerda’s forearm. And though her mother didn’t react, something in Elsa’s gut twisted.

She didn’t want to ask, as she wasn’t sure she could handle the answer. And so instead, she swallowed hard before she let go.

The doctor’s words barely registered at first. Her mind still caught on her spiralling thoughts. And by the time the man called her name again, she was already moving away from Gerda. The warmth of the embrace faded too quickly, and it made the hollow feeling inside almost unbearable. With a heavy sigh, she turned towards the bed.

She clenched her jaw, knowing it would take a lot of effort but she couldn’t risk it. Gerda moved beside her, ready to catch her again, but Elsa pushed herself forwards. “I’ve got it.” She said through gritted teeth, hoping it would convince her mother.

Each step sent a jolt of pain through her legs and lower back, and by the time she reached the bed, her throat felt tight and the burn in her eyes was almost unbearable. She lowered herself onto the mattress, trying to keep her movements controlled, but the moment she let go, her legs gave out completely.

Gerda’s hands supported her, and Elsa’s body tensed, resisting the touch. “Are you okay?” she asked, sensing her discomfort.

Elsa nodded. “I’m okay.”

Unsure of what else to do, Gerda helped her onto the bed, adjusting the pillows behind her. Her hand lingered near Elsa’s for a moment before she gave up and turned to the doctor.

They discussed things Elsa didn’t fully understand and she couldn’t help but wonder if it would make a difference if she did.

---

I’ve got to be honest and say I wasn’t entirely sure where I was going when I started writing this chapter. I originally planned for it to be one of those “transition” chapters, but as I tried to write it, all the ideas felt dull. That’s when I allowed myself to write whatever I wanted to read and this happened.

Elsa finding out was not supposed to happen. For the longest time I planned to simply let it slip. But here she is, barely standing and putting up a fight against me. Also, Ingrid wasn’t supposed to drag Marshal through the mud the way she did, but she wouldn’t stop. So I let her. I hope you like the chapter. Let me know what you think of it!

Also, two chapters in February, look at that. Blessed be the rain that forces me to stay inside and gives me inspiration.

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Tag time:

@swimmingnewsie @melody-fox @kristoffxannafanatic @kristannafictionals @neptrabbit  @skneez @ellacarter13 @wondering-in-life @who-i-am-8 @fanfictionrecommendations-com  @815-allisnotlost @khartxo @joannevixxon @betweenthedreams @burbobah @rileysfs  @earlvessalius  @blood-jewel @snowycrocus @the-sky-is-awake @disneyfan103 @anamaria8garcia @welovefrozenfanfiction  @bigfrozenfan @bigfrozenfan-archive @frozenartscapes  @deisymendoza  @zackhaikal123  @cornstarch @roostercrowedatmidnight @showurselfelsa @when-dawn-arrives @tare-disney  @wabitham @just-your-local-history-nerd @dontrunintofirexoxo @daphmckinnon @poketin @luna-and-mars  @shimmeringsunsets @aries1708  @wabitham @agentphilindaisy @spkfrozenkindikids123 @jimmi-arts @snowmanmelting @loonysama  @hiptoff @loonysama @tare-disney @frozenwolftemplar  @true–north @holycolordreamertree @bigfrozensix

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

[lelitachay]

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

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The conflict of the mind

Time had an interesting way of passing. There were days when the hands of the clock seemed to move faster, forcing everyone to work against them. There were others when no matter what people did, time seemed to stop. Hours would stretch for as long as they could, leaving nothing else for people to do but wait.

Ever since Elsa had woken up, time seemed to have stopped. Anna was sure of it. There was no other explanation. For the last two days time had simply stopped and she was trapped in an eternal loop. She had spent most of her time in the waiting room or near the hospital, and the only changes around her had been the receptionist allowing her into the small room right outside the ICU in the early afternoon, and Kristoff showing up in the evening, wearing his work clothes. Beside those two things, everything had remained still. She felt glad to share the stillness of time with her boyfriend, though she hated seeing his hope vanishing as they waited.

To her disappointment, whatever hope was left inside of him disappeared as soon as Gerda walked out of the ICU for a brief moment. With a heavy heart she explained only Kai was allowed inside the room for a couple of minutes while she took a short break. They didn’t get to ask any questions before she was gone once again and they were left on their own.

Waiting was in vain, they knew, but leaving felt wrong. And so they remained in place, waiting and hoping.

As it was expected, a few minutes before eight, the door of the small waiting room opened. Marshall walked in, looking serious as ever but a lot more calm than the last time Anna had seen him.

“How are you feeling?” asked Anna after she greeted him. “Did you get some sleep?”

“Umm…” Taken aback by the sudden question, he bought some time diverting his attention to Kristoff and nodding a silent greeting. “Better. I guess,” he said when he came up with an answer. “I don't know why I let things get to me as much as they did. I might have been sleep deprived.”

Anna tried to hide her smile, it wasn't her intention to mock the man after all. She felt it was ridiculous of him to pretend there were no deeper feelings involved. Feeling sick and overwhelmed was more than justifiable when those were involved. Kristoff's childhood hadn't been remotely close to Elsa's, yet Anna remembered the feeling of hopelessness she had felt for her boyfriend the first time he opened up about it.

“Marshall, it's normal to feel—”

“Elsa's still Elsa,” he said, interrupting her. “I've got no idea how she managed to get back on her feet the first time, but I'm sure she can do it all over again.” Changing the topic before Anna could tell him otherwise, he asked, “Have you got the chance to see her?”

Kristoff shook his head and sighed, silently letting him know exactly how they were feeling. 

“I'll talk to Nielsen. Perhaps I can talk him into letting you see her before my shift.”

“I appreciate it,” said Kristoff. “Sadly, my mother's already said no. At least not today.”

Pursing his lips, he weighed their options. “I’ll try anyway. I'd rather he get sick of me instead of you.”

“Thank you, Marshmallow,” Anna said, taking a chance to use his nickname. He was slowly allowing them in and she wanted to test the ground.

A big smile spread across her face when he offered a half-smile, choosing not to disapprove of being called like that by someone other than Elsa. In the morning he had shown a side of him he only reserved for her sister, and now he was clearly trying to offer as much help as needed. Perhaps sleeping and letting the information about Elsa’s past sink in had helped him put things in perspective.

The three of them remained silent after that, uncertain of what to say as they waited for Nielsen. Despite their sudden closeness, the only true link between them was still inside the ICU, and none of them was in the mood for shallow chitchat. Even Anna felt relieved when a nurse entered the room, asking for Marshall. He followed her without hesitation, leaving Kristoff and Anna alone once more.

“What was that about?” Kristoff asked after he was certain Marshall wouldn’t return. “The thing he said about Elsa.”

Keeping information from Kristoff wasn’t an option, though Anna took her time wondering how to tell him about her encounter with Marshall that morning. Unsure of what to say or how to explain his outburst, she cut to the chase. “He knows about her past.”

“What?”

“He knows.” 

“What— How? Anna, what do you mean he knows?” Not giving her enough time to explain, he scrubbed his hands over his face. “Elsa will kill you… She’ll kill us both.”

“I didn't tell him,” she quickly corrected. “Nielsen did. Do you think I'd walk all over Elsa's trust like that?”

Kristoff had no way of knowing what had happened during the morning, but still the accusation hurt. She hoped he’d understand she wouldn’t actively do something to hurt their sister.

“I don’t know why—nor how—he told him. All I know is Marshall didn’t take it very well. I found him in the parking lot completely out of sorts.”

Leaning over, Kristoff rested his forearms on his knees as he ran his hands through his hair. “What was Nielsen thinking?”

“He might have had his reasons,” offered Anna. She couldn’t side with Kristoff on the matter after all. “I can’t say I disagree with his choice.”

“Anna…”

“Maybe it’s for the best,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest, disapproving of his warning tone. “He’s there by her side twelve hours a day. For all you know, understanding her past might help him find a way to make things easier for Elsa in there. You and I know she needs all the help she can get.”

“We should be the ones helping her,” argued Kristoff.

“And how are we supposed to do that from this side of the door?”

Kristoff ignored her question and stood up, his eyes fixed on the door, as he called his father's name. “Kai,” he said, surprised to see him out of the ICU so soon.

Turning her head to the door, Anna saw her father-in-law enter the room. He looked more tired than in the early afternoon, but at least he didn’t look as distressed as he had the previous days.

“Have you seen her? How is she?” Kristoff asked, not wasting time to find out as much as possible about his sister.

“Not more than five minutes.” Kai clarified quickly, not wanting to raise their hopes. “She was asleep the whole time.”

Sitting down next to his son, he breathed out in relief as soon as he rested his feet.

“Are you feeling well, Kai?” Anna asked, concerned for the man.

Despite Elsa being her main concern, Anna felt bad for not paying more attention to her in-law’s. As the weeks went by, they looked more and more worn out and Anna couldn’t blame them.

The couple had adopted Kristoff in their mid-to-late forties. And even if becoming parents had been their desire, they had learnt about parenthood in a rush. To make matters more complicated, they adopted Elsa only a couple of years after Kristoff came into their lives. She could only imagine how demanding it must have been for them, especially when she took Elsa’s recovery and education into consideration.

Now life was once again putting them both to the test. They were forced to adapt and help their daughter overcome her illness at an older age and it was clear the years of stress were finally taking a toll on them. It made Anna's heart ache anytime she saw their mask slip and she noticed how overly tired they were.

The old couple always offered her a smile or a nod whenever she voiced their concern, and right then Kai offered no exception. He nodded with a short-lived smile and explained he had been standing for most part of the day. Anna didn't quite believe his word, but she chose not to question him.

“Why won't Nielsen let us see her?” Kristoff asked, already used to his father diminishing his own problems.

“Nielsen wants to keep the number of visitors to the minimum. At least until they make sure everything's under control.”

“I thought things were under control. She was getting better.” He was becoming more impatient as the hours went by and Anna couldn’t blame him. It was strange to be one of the few people Elsa trusted, yet you were forced to stay away when she needed you the most.

“The recovery is painful and stressful,” explained Kai as he wrung his hands. ”They don't want to risk anyone getting injured.”

“She won't hurt anybody.” His voice sounded almost resentful.

“She hurt your mother.”

“She wasn't aware of what was going on.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he defied his father. “You can't put the blame on—”

“I'm not blaming Elsa, Kristoff.” Kai cut him off. “We just can't ignore the truth. And we can't make mistakes. I don't want any extra attention drawn to Elsa.”

Even though he didn’t like it, he understood his father’s concern. “Have you talked to those bastards lately?”

“Only the director,” answered Kai. No need to clarify who the bastards were. “The meeting was strictly about Elsa’s recovery and it was a good thing Nielsen was with me.”

Kristoff nodded, knowing exactly how his father felt. “What are we going to do about them?”

“Actually, I met Agdar’s lawyers this morning.”

Anna opened her eyes in surprise. It had been a couple of days since she last saw her parents, but she still thought it was odd for her mother not to mention the upcoming meeting when they last talked on the phone.

“They insisted we helped Elsa keep a low profile for the time being. Wait for her to recover and then file a complaint.”

Kristoff continued asking questions about the meeting, but Anna could see Kai wasn’t paying too much attention to him. Instead, he kept his eyes fixed on the floor in front of him, eyebrows narrowed and a pensive look.

“What’s wrong?” asked Anna, willing to risk overstepping.

Kai turned to her. A sad smile drawing on his face. “I know they aren't my lawyers and I can’t expect them to work for me all of a sudden,” he said. “I just wish they would’ve been more concerned about Elsa’s case than helping your father save appearances.”

Kai grabbed her hand and held it tight, as if to shield her from what he was about to tell her. She could see how uncomfortable he was about sharing his concerns, though Anna felt glad he was willing to open up to her.

“They consider Elsa’s existence a risk to the public image of the company.” A dry laugh escaped him. “There are things I will never understand. They were right there, listening to me, learning all they needed about Elsa’s life and—” He stopped, gathering his thoughts. “What mattered most to them in the end was the bloody company.”

Anna held his hand in return and turned her gaze away. Shame crept in, even though she had nothing to do with the way those stuffed suits behaved.

"I wish I could say I’m surprised. Sadly, that’s not the most heartless thing I’ve heard from Dad’s business partners."

Kai exhaled, suddenly aware of how much the situation affected her as well. "I’m sorry, Anna."

----

Walking out of the room, Nielsen raised his head and nodded to Marshall who had been waiting for him. He handed his clipboard to the nurse accompanying him and then walked to where he was standing. “I've just finished my round. Gerda's still inside helping her settle down.”

Marshall nodded, feeling uncomfortable about being in the doctor’s presence once again. He had stormed out of the hospital in the morning, and hadn't stopped to think how Nielsen would take it. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't afraid the doctor would change his mind about him staying with Elsa. He wasn't sure how many chances he could get.

“How are you holding up?”

The question caught him by surprise. Nielsen was a pragmatic man who rarely took the time to check on those working for him. If you were standing in front of him, then it meant you were okay, ready for any given task. It didn't matter if you weren’t, you had to suck it up. Or at least, that’s what everyone believed during his time working at the hospital. The doctor, doing absolutely nothing to disprove them, cemented the idea even more.

“I'm not the one you should be asking that,” Marshall said, hoping his focus remained on Elsa exclusively. No amount of time would ever make him feel comfortable about opening up to the man.

Nielsen looked at the room's closed door for a brief moment and finally turned back to him with a sympathetic smile. “It's not like Elsa’s answering my questions anyway. Did you sleep?”

He nodded.

“Don't let the things I told you change the way—”

“I'm fine, Nielsen,” Marshall interrupted. “Is there anything I should know before I start my shift?”

Nielsen smiled sympathetically once again. “Actually, yes,” he said, understanding Marshall's silent request to drop the topic. “I thought about the things you said. Gerda and I discussed it and we decided to try some anxiolytics. Perhaps controlling her physical symptoms will help her while she becomes more aware of her surroundings.”

Marshall took a moment to think about their decision. Anxiolytics were a better choice than restraining her, though he couldn't ignore the side effects. “Won’t they mess with her heart rate and blood pressure?”

“We'll be giving her small doses and monitoring her closely. It's a risk we need to take.”

“People coming into the room every few minutes won't exactly help her.”

“We’ve gone over the pros and cons several times already,” said Nielsen, tired of having to explain himself. “This is our best bet. Make sure she’s not alone.”

Marshall was about to request a different approach when Gerda walked out of the room. She smiled at him as soon as their eyes met. 

“It's good to see you, dear,” she said honestly, resting her good hand on his arm. The familiar gesture made him smile as well and he silently thanked her for welcoming him the way she always did. Being around Gerda was easy, and he was glad at least someone other than Anna liked his presence. “Did you get some sleep?”

The personal question took him by surprise once again. “Everybody keeps asking that. Did I look that bad?”

Gerda nodded as she rubbed his arm. “You looked completely drained.”

Nielsen nodded by their side. “Start looking after yourself when you go home. We'll need all the help we can get in the upcoming weeks.” He then looked back at Gerda and explained, “I’ll stop by in the early morning. Don't stay too long. You need to sleep as well.”

“And, Marshall,” he called his attention, pointing directly at him. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

Marshall shook his head and watched the older man leave without another word.

“Jonnas told me about the incident last night,” Gerda said. “He told me about your conversation this morning too. Thank you for standing up for her. He finally agreed to get rid of those restraints.”

He smiled, unsure if she was expecting an answer.

“Call home if you need us.”

---

In the dim light of the hospital room, Elsa stirred from her restless sleep, her eyes opening wide in mild panic. She tried to move and realised there was someone by her side. Her eyes fluttered into consciousness and the person wasted no time in holding her trembling hand.

"Did I wake you?" Marshmallow's voice was soft, yet there was concern etched in every word.

She blinked a couple of times and tried to make sense of where she was and the reason she was waking up next to him. She was glad he wasn't another faceless nightmare, though his presence confused her all the more. Only after a moment, fragmented memories came back at her like a flood.

“Els?” He called her name a bit louder, his eyes softening as soon as they met hers. 

Even when she felt the walls shrinking in on herself and she could hear her heart pounding in her ears, she felt his presence steadily help her regain some composure. Her breathing slowed down eventually and only then she tried moving. It was a failed attempt to sit that only resulted in sharp pain coursing through her body. Every muscle burned as if she had been doing strenuous work the days before. The room spinned around her and a sudden headache made her stomach churn.

She held onto Marshall’s hand and tried to fight the nausea until it was too much for her to control. A wave of sickness and cold stopped her from even trying to adjust in bed again, forcing her to lean over the side, retching. The dry-heaves only worsened the pain and she found herself holding tightly onto Marshall once again for support. Whenever she tried to sit back, a new wave of nausea stopped her. Breathing heavily, she closed her eyes tightly and hoped for the pain and sickness to disappear. It took a long moment for her to regain control, and it was only with Marshmallow’s help that she could lie down onto the bed once again.

She remained quiet, trying to get rid of the frustration and discomfort she was feeling. Her heart kept pounding uncomfortably, and cold sweat dampened her skin, sending a shiver down her spine. All she had tried to do was sit, but her body couldn’t even handle that simple task. It confused her, and the pain made the convoluted memories even more disconcerting.

She turned her head, hoping to find some answers in Marshall, when the door opened. A pair of nurses entered the room, greeting them both with a smile. One of them went straight to the machines to her left while the other asked Marshall to step aside in order to access the trays near the chair.

Fear threatened to control her for a moment, but Marshall kept holding onto her hand as he sat on the edge of the bed. This earned him a disapproving gaze from one of the nurses, though he remained unfazed.

“It’s okay,” he said calmly. “You're safe. Keep your eyes on me. They’ll be out of here in a minute.”

Not wanting her thoughts to spiral out of control, she did as told. She weakly held onto the sleeve of his jumper when he let go of her hand, and she kept her eyes on him. She watched him talk to the nurse, explaining briefly what had happened. And as she did, she tried to concentrate on his breathing, steady and unbothered by the things going on around them.

He stood up and moved to the head of the bed when the nurse requested it. Looking down at her, he smiled and reassured her that things were going well. He held his arm in place, allowing her to keep holding onto his sleeve, and only then the idea of ice covering his arm struck her. To her surprise, there was no rime in sight when she finally dared to look.

After a moment, he moved again to help her settle on the bed more comfortably and wipe the sweat off her forehead.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, ashamed for all the hassle.

A side smile drew on his face and his eyes softened. “Don’t apologise. You can’t control it. Have you been sick earlier?”

Digging in her blurry memories, she tried to come up with an answer. She had felt sick and uncomfortable ever since she had woken up in the room, that was certain… Though the sickness was not entirely comparable with the nausea she had just experienced. Unsure of what to say, she nodded. She couldn’t remember much of the last time she had been conscious, but she remembered pain and waves of sickness intertwined with anxiety each time.

“It’s the medicine.” The man to her left said as he kept taking notes.

The uneasiness of having a stranger so close to her made it hard for her to keep her focus on Marshall and she soon lost track of what he was telling her.

The nurses stayed a bit longer than Marshall had promised, cleaning the mess, taking notes and finally injecting something in the IV line attached to her left arm. Every movement on their part made her flinch, fearing something worse was to come, but Marshall's calmness helped her endure it until they finally left them alone with the reassurance that things were going to start improving soon.

Once Marshall was certain they wouldn't barge in again, he pulled his chair closer to the bed and sat back down, looking back at her with a tight smile. He extended his hand over the mattress, lightly brushing her fingers.

She understood his silent request to hold her hand once again. And even though she longed for the soothing feeling of his thumb caressing the back of her hand, she hesitated for a moment. The ice beneath her skin was acting strange, trying to react to her anxiety but being tamed and controlled, as if someone had restrained it. It was confusing and she wasn’t sure she liked the feeling, but despite the uncertainty, she finally nodded.

His tight smile turned into a grin and he wasted no time in wrapping his hand on hers.

They stayed silent after that. Elsa’s eyes were locked in their hands, though her mind was far away. Try as she might, she couldn’t remember what she’d done to be dragged back into a hospital room. She remembered talking to Gerda, something about being sick. Though the hesitation in the old woman’s voice, and the distance she had kept between them had only confused Elsa more than helped her. Then there was the pain, something wasn’t right with her if there was so much pain, yet she couldn’t link the pain to anything she had gone through… Except for the experiments she had endured in Weselton’s clinic. The thought alone was enough to make her heart start racing, the fear gripping her tightly.

“Are you okay?”

Marshall’s soft voice pulled her back to the present and she noticed the concern in his eyes. Back then, there had been no-one to look after her. No-one to offer a gentle touch or to reassure her things would go well. And it was this substantial difference that helped her understand that perhaps she wasn’t back in the clinic.

"Why does it hurt so much?" Elsa said as best as she could. Her voice was still raspy from disuse, making it hard for her to raise it above a whisper. Perhaps if she understood the pain, then everything else would click into place.

Marshmallow leaned in closer, his lips brushing her knuckles in a tender kiss.

“Don't do that.” The words came out as a reflex, a resigned plea for him to be careful.

With his face turning a deeper shade of red, he straightened his back and put some distance between them. “Does it bother you?”

She could see the concern marring his expression, though this time there was something akin to hurt and rejection mixing. She didn’t understand why it hurt to see him so taken aback, so she tried to explain herself. “I don't want to hurt you.”

Her words seemed to appease him, and he didn’t hesitate to close the distance between them once again. He took her hand in his and pressed a firm, deliberate kiss.

“You won't hurt me,” he said, with a reassuring smile. 

The gesture caught her off guard. The sudden trust and affection welling up tears in her eyes as it brought back memories of Gerda doing the same long ago. The memory was fuzzy, likely distorted by time, yet it offered her a small measure of comfort. It took her a moment to even think of a response, and before she could speak, he answered her original question.

"An infection got out of control and your body had an almost general collapse.” Building up some courage, he looked at her again, and with a sad, apologetic smile he explained, “simple tasks will feel like torture for a couple of days."

Elsa grimaced at the thought.

"I know you probably don't want to hear this either, but it'll take some time for you to heal.”

Closing her eyes, Elsa tried to get rid of the awful feeling constricting her chest. She wasn’t sure how long she could stand being tied to machines while doctors walked around her.

“You should be thankful you didn’t lose your hand—or any fingers or toes.” He continued, as he absentmindedly traced each finger in her hand.

At the mention of her hand, Elsa cracked her eyes open and focused her attention on her left one. It was wrapped in bandages and hanging from a sling. It surprised her that she hadn’t paid more attention to it before. The sling, which was already restricting her movement, pressed uncomfortably against the IVv line, making her feel more trapped in that helpless state.

Her gaze lingered a moment longer. Failing once more to suppress her rising anxiety, she took a deep breath and concentrated on the ice —strangely dormant under her skin. There was no ice, but with every new piece of information she became more frustrated and exhausted and she knew it was a matter of time until her powers went out of control. 

"In the meantime, I'll be annoyingly close to you," Marshall said, unaware of her inner turmoil.

With effort, she turned in his direction, wondering what he meant by that. She was surprised to find him with a playful smile. One that reminded her of the first few times they had gone skiing together. She wasn’t entirely sure the memories were real, but she enjoyed them nonetheless.

At her questioning look, he rested his chin on the mattress and explained he was going to stay with her during the upcoming nights, looking after and annoying her as much as possible.

His goofy smile and the ticklish feeling of his beard brushing her fingers brought a small smile to her face. Everything he was doing helped her, if only slightly, to feel more at ease; and she hoped he'd keep his word.

"You were here last night, weren't you?” Her memory was a bit fuzzy and even though she remembered seeing him, part of her wondered if it wasn't her mind playing tricks on her.

To her relief, he nodded.

“Will you stay tonight?”

"Of course I will. I'm your sitter. For once being a paramedic is paying off," he replied, a hint of amusement colouring his words at the confused look on Elsa's face.

She quietly accepted his answer. And with a tired sigh she tried to get comfortable on the bed even when it seemed an impossible task.

---

"Try to sleep. It's late," Marshmallow suggested, his hand still caressing hers as he leaned back in his chair.

It took over two days for Elsa to finally understand what was truly happening around her. And though the drowsiness and disorientation began to wear off, allowing a creeping clarity to take place, there were things that still confused her.

The more aware she became of her surroundings, the more the feeling of isolation grew. Each hour she spent awake seemed to stretch and the walls in the sterile room shrinked in on herself. Memories long forgotten came back to her in waves, making her struggle to reconcile what was real or not—scenes from Weselton's clinic and the cold indifference of the people who had once held power over her.

As the days went by, the impersonal touch of the strangers surrounding her, the nurses and doctors who came in and out of her room, became more than she could bear and it only deepened her anxiety. Her rational mind tried to remind her that they weren’t necessarily hurting her, but the feeling of helplessness overwhelmed her nonetheless.

Gerda and Marshall were the only two familiar faces she saw—the only constants in her otherwise fractured reality. But there was something off about them both.

Gerda, despite always being a source of comfort and safety, now kept a physical distance Elsa couldn’t quite explain.

Every day, Gerda would stay by her side, refusing to leave in spite of the distance. She’d watch over her as Elsa tried to regain control over her own body. Elsa could feel the old woman’s presence, but it always felt as if she was holding herself back. Whenever the nurses or doctors barged in, Elsa had to painfully watch her stay on the side, quietly letting them do as they pleased.

The few times Elsa had tried to stop the people around her, either Gerda or Nielsen had intervened. Insisting she accepted the treatment without question. They weren't unkind, but their actions triggered something in Elsa's mind—a memory of a doctor who had only been concerned with his own tasks, and a nurse who was too afraid to challenge him.

Her mother’s actions confused her and she couldn't shake the growing feeling that something had changed between them. Had she done something wrong? The worst part was the thought of having hurt Kristoff, Anna, or her family in any way. And once that spiralling thought started, the guilt gnawed at her, paralyzing her, as if the mere thought of harming them could crush her.

To her dismay, sleeping offered no comfort. More times than not, it eluded her entirely. Even when pain and exhaustion was too much for her body to bear, it felt out of reach. And when she did finally drift off, it was only to be tormented by nightmares and visions of her past life. Of things she couldn’t remember but still felt. Though the panic they brought subsided after she came back to her senses, the drowning sensation never fully lifted.

In spite of everything, there was a small confusing lifeline: Marshmallow. His presence during the nights was a life saver. Whenever the world felt like it was slipping away, she could count on him to show up and make things a bit easier. She didn’t always understand everything he said, but his steady and unwavering presence put at ease her conflicted mind.

The nights became the only time Elsa felt like she could breathe. Without the constant barrage of medical staff, there was a small sense of normalcy, a quietness that allowed her to gather her thoughts, however fleeting. And in those moments, the more she thought about it, the more she realized how odd it was that he was there every night. He had a life outside of the hospital—things to do, places to be—but he still chose to stay. And it wasn’t just out of obligation. Elsa could feel it in the way he spoke to her and in the soft smiles he offered.

Every evening Elsa felt a twinge of fear that he might not show up, but every evening, without fail, Marshall was there. He was a constant, a reminder that she wasn’t truly alone. Even when his eyes looked heavy with exhaustion, he'd smile. And the drowning feeling lifted, even if only for a brief moment.

Despite its contradiction, Marshall’s presence was a bittersweet comfort. Elsa appreciated it, but part of her still believed wasn't supposed to be there. There were nights when Elsa wondered if Marshall was real at all. If he wasn’t simply a figment of her mind, created to ease her suffering.

---

After talking to Nielsen and getting updated on Elsa’s health, Marshall walked to her room and stood by the door. He silently watched Gerda say goodbye to her daughter as it was usual. But this time, unlike all the previous ones, the woman stood up and got closer to Elsa’s bed. She still made an effort to keep her injury hidden.

“See you tomorrow, dear,” she said, brushing the bangs off her forehead with her good hand.

To his surprise, Elsa only managed a weak smile at the gesture and didn’t say anything. Her attention remained focused on the bandages covering her left hand instead. It had been a day since it was removed from the sling and so he thought it was strange for it to keep her so absorbed.

Gerda watched her expectantly for a short moment. A longing desire was written all over her face as she waited to see her react in some way. Giving up before Elsa realised, she turned around picking up her jacket from the back of the chair and walked out the room.

“Don’t hesitate to call home if you need anything,” she said in a low voice only for him to hear. The monotone of the usual phrase helped her hide the pain, though Marshall knew she was only pretending to be unaffected by Elsa’s indifference.

With a nod, Marshall reassured the old woman he planned to do just that in case it was needed. And both curious and afflicted by the woman’s pain, he asked, “How has she been?” 

Looking at her daughter over her shoulder, Gerda took in a deep breath before she answered. “It’s hard to tell. She's keeping to herself, barely answering mine or Nielsen’s questions.

“She's uncomfortable. That much is clear.”

Nodding in agreement, Marshall tried to come up with something to say. Even if Elsa had been quieter than her usual self, he couldn’t say she was purposely being distant with him.

“Nielsen's been trying to assess any cognitive damage,” Gerda continued, her concern clinging to every word. “It's been hard. With Elsa not answering his questions and all... Could you, perhaps—” she sighed, stopping herself before she finished her request. “Nevermind, I don't want to burden you with this.”

“I'll take notes for Nielsen.”

He didn’t like the idea. He’d much rather spend the time Elsa was awake talking to her and helping her think of something other than her current situation. But he also knew anything he could give them was going to help Elsa in the long run.

“Thank you,” Gerda breathed out, relieved they might get extra information on Elsa’s progress. “I worry she might not be understanding the questions and requests.”

Once again, Marshall wondered what was really happening. Elsa’s initial confusion disappeared after a couple of days, and ever since she seemed to be progressing. Slowly. But there was progress. What he saw every night didn’t quite match what Gerda was describing. “She's going to be okay, Gerda. She's dealing with all of this as best as she can. It's only been a week. I'm sure tomorrow she'll start seeing things in a different light.”

“I know. I know—” Shaking her head, she cut herself off. “I'm tired. I'm sorry. Some days are harder than others…”

Marshall bid her goodbye after that, choosing to ignore the tears welling in her eyes. Kristoff and Anna were right outside and he was certain they were going to be a better support for the old lady than he could ever be.

Breathing in deeply, and trying to ease the constricting pain in his chest, Marshall entered the room and closed the door behind him. Nielsen had checked on Elsa just before fetching him in the waiting room, so he was certain it would take a while until someone came in to disturb them.

“Hey,” Marshall said brightly, wanting to focus on the good news he brought her, rather than the pessimist conversation he had with Gerda. “How are you feeling?”

Elsa raised her head, meeting his eyes for just a second, only to then look back at her hand with a shrug.

Not a great start, he thought.

He got closer to the bed, and noticed a mix of exhaustion and frustration reflecting on her eyes even when she kept them focused on her bandages while her good hand kept pulling and tugging at them.

“Els?” He called her name, hoping to distract her.

She didn’t listen and so he placed his hand on top of hers. “Stop. Stop doing that.” When finally got her attention, he asked, “What are you even doing?”

“Have you seen my bracelet?” she asked, brushing his hand aside before resuming her task.

“Bracelet?” he wondered out loud. “Not in there, trust me.”

She ignored him and kept tugging at the gauze. “Stop,” he urged. “You underwent surgery. They had to clean the infection and repair some tissue. You'll end up hurting yourself.

“It’s not there.” He was getting frustrated, his patience wearing thin. Taking a deep breath, he reminded himself that she was still Elsa—the same stubborn Elsa. It was now simply intensified by the drugs and confinement.

“Then where is it?” she demanded, finally looking at him.

Her eyes welled with tears and something broke inside of him. Perhaps she was Elsa, but she was confused and in pain underneath it all. He held her hand, to keep her from tugging at the bandages again, and sat down to talk. “They keep patients' stuff in a box somewhere.”

She remained silent for a moment. “Can you get it for me?”

Looking at the door, he wondered if the nurses would know where to find her belongings, or if she had even been wearing her bracelet the evening she was admitted. Thinking it was best to ask Gerda about it, he chose to offer a little white lie. “Nurses are doing their evening rounds. I'll ask them about it in the morning.”

Elsa lowered her gaze but nodded, understanding he wouldn’t do much to help her at that moment.

“They won't lose it,” he reassured her. “Your things are in secure storage.”

“I just—” she tried to explain. “It doesn't matter.”

Sighing again, he wished, not for the first time, the doctor would allow Anna or Kristoff inside for once. They were better at this than he was. No matter how much he wanted to help her and erase her pain in any way. He didn’t know how. “You don't believe me, do you?”

“It’s not that…” She took a moment to gather her thoughts before she explained. “I need to see it. That's all.”

“See it?”

She shrugged, struggling to make herself understood. “I’m still confused about a lot of things. Being in here—” She tried to sit up but was cut off by a sharp pain that took her breath away, causing her to hiss in discomfort.

“Easy,” Marshall said, jumping to his feet to assist her. “Remember what the physiatrist told you? One step at a time, no brusque movements.” He helped her sit up more comfortably, and then sat down on the edge of the bed. “Better?”

“Being inside this room,” continued Elsa after a short nod. “Gerda being so distant…

"It all makes it feel like part of my life has been nothing but a delusional dream." Marshall didn’t get the chance to ask what she meant about Gerda being distant before she continued. "Did she ever give me that bracelet, or did I dream it? Even you—"

“What about me?” he asked, worried he had been giving her the wrong impression as well.

“You feel like you aren’t real. You say you go home in the mornings but… You could be part of a delusional dream of a life I didn’t have.”

“Since when have you been questioning whether I exist?” he said, caught off guard. Of all the things he thought she might say, this hadn’t even made the list."

“It's not—” she sighed. “You think it's stupid.”

“It's not stupid,” he lied. “You're confused, weak and in pain.” He held her hand, hoping the feeling of his hand in hers actually showed her he was very much real. “You're dealing with it as best as you can.”

She remained quiet after that, her eyes focused on their hands. And only then did he realise why she was so often drawn to them. Finally understanding her need to find something tangible to link her life—the good part of her life—to Gerda, or himself, he offered the closest thing that came to his mind.

“Have you seen this before?” he asked, pulling a silver necklace with a pendant from under his woolen jumper.

Elsa raised her eyes and shook her head. It called his attention, since he had worn it everyday since he was a young kid, but then again, he couldn’t remember her bracelet.

“It's the Helm of Awe,” he said, inspecting it for a moment before he took it off. The circular pendant was irregular and the eight arms engraved in it had worn thin over time, their edges softened by years of use. “People say it protects its bearer. I’ve had it for as long as I can remember; I’m not sure where I got it.”

He placed it on her hand and gave her time to inspect it.

“Marshmallow, I—”

“I want you to keep it.”

The confused look on her face told him he needed to be more clear. “Until I find your bracelet, at least. Like a tangible promise that I'm real and I will get it for you.”

“I don’t know what tangible means.”

He cracked a smile at that, thinking back to all the times he had to explain a few words to her. But what had once amused him, now tore at something inside him. The reason behind Elsa’s lack of education and the hardships of her childhood had erased the playful nature in his responses everytime he taught her something new. Now it served him as a reminder of why he couldn’t fail her, not even in the smallest things.

“Something real that you can feel. So you know that– Well… That I’m real.”

“It doesn't really prove you're real.”

Even though he sighed, hoping he could find the words to convince her, he couldn’t deny that the idea of suddenly not existing amused him.

“You can show it to Gerda tomorrow. Or better yet to Anna and Kristoff.” It wasn’t the way he had planned to deliver the good news, but perhaps then she’d realise he existed. “I'm sure they'll let you know if it doesn't exist. Don't show it to Kai, though,” he begged. “He'll pretend it isn't there just to get rid of me.”

Ignoring the last remark, Elsa tore her eyes from the necklace and looked at him. “Anna and Kristoff?”

The hope in her eyes was something he’d missed, and he could no longer hide his excitement. “Nielsen said it's okay for them to visit as soon as you're transferred to a different ward.”

“They're not a hallucination?”

He let out a chuckle as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “How come you know the word hallucination and not tangible?” Before she even tried to answer, he reminded her, “We're all real, trust me.”

“And I didn't hurt them?”

“Hurt?” Marshall asked, taken aback, the amusement vanishing from his features. “Wha— no, of course you didn't hurt them.” Part of him wished this wasn’t the reason she had been distancing from Gerda. “They miss you like crazy. There’s nothing they’ve wanted more than to see you ever since you woke up. The rules in place stopped them from visiting, but they've been on the other side of the door ever since you were admitted.”

When their eyes met, he was surprised to see happy tears gathering in her eyes, and the small smile he had missed so much was finally drawing itself back on her face.

“Thank you,” she said.

“It’s all Anna’s doing,” he admitted, tearing his gaze away from hers before he allowed his feelings to take charge. Instead, he focused his attention on the necklace, taking it from her hand.

“Your sister is insufferable when she wants something. I’m sure Nielsen couldn’t put up with her endless rambling anymore," he continued explaining while he fastened it around her neck. “There,” he said proudly once it was in place. He then picked it up and tried showing it to her again. “It kinda looks like a snowflake, don’t you think?”

---

I’m happy I was able to write exactly all the scenes I wanted and that I laid the groundwork for what’s to come. If you think there’s too much Marshall and too little Anna. You’re correct. That’s on purpose. You’ll see where I’m going with this. Hopefully.

Anyway, next chapter I’ll make the siblings meet. I promise. No more nonsense. No more doors in between (see what I did there?)

I’m rambling. It’s over 40ºC where I live. I’m doing my best.

If you’re still there, let me know what you think of this chapter.

Big thanks to Novita for keeping me on track and always being a big, big source of inspiration. Like most of you guys are. I can’t thank you all enough. Anyway, If you haven’t read her work go mmmbop! and search Nova42. Thank me later. “All it Cost” is the bestest story ever. And it’ll buy me time to write while you guys read it. lol.

Read you all soon. Love ya!

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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

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Crawl out of the shadows

The feeling of a hand slightly shaking his arm woke Marshall up from his deep slumber. It took a moment for him to register where he was and what was going on, but the antiseptic smell and soft beeping in the background brought him back to consciousness faster than the voice calling his name by his side.

He raised his head and quickly checked on Elsa, making sure she wasn't the one needing him. He breathed out in relief when he noticed she was still sound asleep. Instinctively, he tightened his hold on Elsa's hand and the tingling numbness of his fingers told him he had been sleeping on his forearms for far too long. Wishing to get rid of the tiredness, he scrubbed his face as he drew in a shaky breath.

"Marshall?" Gerda's voice said by his side and only then he remembered someone had woken him up.

He sat up straighter in the uncomfortable chair, tried to ignore the numbness in his arms, and turned to look at the old woman with an apologetic smile. He would've liked to pretend he hadn't been asleep for long, but his face and slight confusion told a different story.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, clearing his throat in the process. "What time is it?"

"It's almost seven…" Gerda said, checking her watch just to be certain.

He still had an hour left of his shift, but he guessed Gerda being by his side meant he ought to give a report and leave as soon as Nielsen showed up. Deep down he was thankful it had been Gerda the one who found him asleep and not Nielsen. It didn't erase the shame, but at least Gerda wouldn't scold him the way the doctor would.

"How was her night?"

Looking back at Elsa, Marshall's mind drifted back to the episode that had taken place only a few hours before. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't unsettled by it. Elsa's fear couldn't be attributed to her confusion alone. What she's said and the scars he'd seen proved there was more to Elsa's past than he had once believed. The voice at the back of his head insisted Elsa had meant every word and he needed to find a way to help her.

Tightening the grip on her hand once again, he thought about his options. Obviously Gerda was the easiest one. He was on her good side and she'd answer his questions. At least she wouldn't ignore them. However, deep down he didn't want to give the poor woman a new reason to worry. Her daughter's health was clearly affecting her own and every day she looked thinner and older than the first time he'd met her.

"Marshall?" Gerda called his name again, unsure what his silence meant. When he turned back to her, he could see deep concern marring her expression.

"It was okay," he lied. Elsa's health had remained stable despite the incident after all.

"Are you sure?" She asked, her eyes fixed in his hand still holding onto Elsa's.

Nodding his head, he offered her a small smile and, reluctantly, let go of the cold hand. "I'm sure. She woke up for a few minutes, too confused to make sense of what was going on. She fell back asleep soon after." He then stood up and offered Gerda the empty chair.

She looked at him, debating whether it was worth asking anymore questions. An uncomfortable silence stretched for a minute but at the end Gerda took his place next to Elsa. It was clear she didn't trust his word. He was a terrible liar after all. But he needed some more time; someone to clarify a few things for him, before concerning Gerda with his worries.

Nielsen walked into the room soon after, putting an end to the awkward moment. The doctor shared a few words with him and Gerda before asking him to step out of the room. With no reason nor strength to contradict the doctor, he walked out of the room in complete silence.

Eyes fixed on the tiles under his feet, he walked out of the ICU, stopping only when he reached the small waiting room outside the unit. He debated whether it was best to go home once and for all or wait for Nielsen there. No matter how tired he was, his head was a mess, and he doubted he'd get any sleep unless he talked to somebody. Sadly, his options were narrowed to either Nielsen or Anna.

Talking to Anna was fairly simple. She reminded him of Elsa at times, despite having opposite personalities. Though he doubted Anna could give him any relevant information concerning her sister's medical history. The old doctor, on the other hand, would be willing to answer a few questions as long as they were related to Elsa's recovery —or so he hoped. For that reason alone, and despite his better judgement, he decided to stay.

Glad to find the small room empty, he sat down and welcomed the silence. Elsa's room was rather quiet, but the beeping of the machines had a way of messing with his head after a few hours.

As he waited, it didn't take long for his mind to replay the events from the previous night. He couldn't stop thinking about the small scars marring Elsa's arms and the fact he had never noticed them before. He guessed it wasn't surprising, given that he had missed the small fact of her being able to control ice and snow. It did unsettle him, however, to think it was one more thing Elsa had been keeping hidden and dealing with on her own. It made him wonder if she had ever tried to open up about it, only for him to be too caught up in his own world to notice.

His thoughts eventually took him back to the night they met and the weeks that followed. Perhaps the disappointment and resignation he had seen in her eyes back then were rooted in years of struggle and exhaustion rather than the effort of dealing with the indifference of unsympathetic tourists. The thought alone made him feel worse about having taken advantage of her good predisposition at the time.

Voices outside the room caught his attention, pulling him back to the present. The moment he recognised Nielsen's voice among them, he stood up and walked into the hallway to intercept him. "Dr. Nielsen," he said, unintentionally startling both doctor and nurse when he opened the door. "I need to talk to you."

The doctor sent him a disapproving glance but nodded nonetheless. "Likewise," he said, signalling to him to step back into the room to have a word.

The door closed behind Nielsen, and in a low imposing voice he beat Marshall to the conversation. "I heard someone disobeyed a clear order during the night. You needlessly risked the well-being of our healthcare team and my patient."

"W- what?" Taken aback, Marshall stuttered. The last time he'd been on the receiving end of that tone of voice things hadn't ended well for him.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Nielsen continued, "I'm torn between kicking you out of here or congratulating you for keeping things under control despite the mess you made."

"I can explain," Marshall said urgently. The prospect of being forced to leave Elsa's side, now of all times, hitting him like a bucket of cold water. "The restraints weren't helping. She was losing control."

"And physically restraining her with your hands —while putting yourself at risk, may I add— was better…" The doctor stifled a humourless chuckle, his expression betraying his frustration. "How, exactly?"

"She was not going to believe a word I said being tied up. I was trying to—" He stopped as soon as he saw Nielsen's expression. Something in his eyes told him that no matter what he said or how he tried to justify his choices, the doctor wouldn't budge. Running his hands through his hair, Marshall tried to calm down and find the words to change his mind. "Nielsen, please, you can't kick me out. I never– Elsa is… She's—"

"I don't need you explaining to me how you feel," Nielsen interrupted, placing a hand on Marshall's shoulder. "All I need is for you to stop wearing your heart upon your sleeve and focus when you're inside that room. I need to trust you'll make wise choices while you're in there, Marshall."

"I couldn't just sit there, watch her struggle with the restraints, and do nothing about it."

Nielsen ran a hand down his face, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. "She ripped the IV from her arm. She almost fell out of the bed. The ice was—" He stopped his rant, sighing deeply in order to keep calm. "Grab your things and go home."

"No, no." Anger coursed through Marshall as he tightened his fists in a weak attempt to remain calm himself. He would deal with Nielsen's disappointment and fight Kai if it meant being allowed to stay. He was already used to it all. He wouldn't walk away. "She needs someone by her side. She's not okay. You can't kick me out."

"I'm not kicking you out," Nielsen replied with a calmness Marshall wasn't expecting. "I can see you're exhausted. Grab your things, go home and sleep. Maybe then you'll start thinking straight." He gripped his shoulder a moment longer, tightening his hold as if to convey reassurance before finally letting go. As he was picking up the folder he had thrown onto one of the chairs at the beginning of their conversation, he added, "Be thankful I'm not planning on telling Kai any of this."

Marshall blinked a few times, unsure what had happened. Having worked with Nielsen before, he knew he rarely let things slip. But for some unknown reason, he was letting him off the hook now. "You'll let me stay by Elsa's side tonight?" Marshall asked, not entirely convinced.

Nielsen looked at him and suppressed a laugh. "Despite what you might think, I hold you in high esteem, Marshall. I know you've made mistakes over the years, but I trust your heart is in the right place."

Breathing out in relief, Marshall nodded.

"Besides," the doctor said, suddenly more serious than a moment before. "Gerda is a dear friend of mine and I know how much this situation is affecting her. Kicking you out would only bring more problems than solutions. Just promise me you'll stick to the rules and orders in place."

Marshall knew it was best to simply agree with the doctor and walk out before he changed his mind. That way he'd be able to stay by Elsa's side which was all it mattered. He could try to find the truth and a way to help her once everything settled. But he couldn't do it. Not when promising something like that meant staying back, watching everything unfold as a mere witness for who-knows how long.

"Marshall, do you promise?" Nielsen asked when the silence stretched more than he would have liked.

Making up his mind, Marshall hoped he was doing the right thing. "Not until we find a better way to help Elsa."

"Hålkesen, are you kidding me?" he asked, dropping the professionalism that characterised him.

"You can't strap her to a bed and expect her to understand what needs to be done," he tried to reason. "She's panic-stricken."

"Of course she's scared. She spent her childhood inside clinics and hospitals," he retorted. "As we said before, it's a delicate matter. She needs time, but she'll be okay."

I won't live like this. Elsa's voice echoing in his head told him otherwise. He closed his eyes, in a vain attempt to get rid of the memory. Elsa hadn't meant for him to hear. Her voice had been too low as if she was making a resolution.

Shaking his head, Marshall tried to focus. "The scars," he finally said, unsure of how to find the answers he needed. "The old ones she's got all over her forearms. Those are track marks, aren't they?"

Nielsen blinked a few times, surprised by the inquiry. "That doesn't concern you."

"How many times has she been sedated or– or connected to IV lines?"

"Please, Hålkesen, focus on what truly matters." Putting the folder under his arm, Nielsen aimed for the door, ready to put an end to their conversation.

"Elsa matters," countered Marshall indignantly.

The doctor's eyes softened as he let go of the door. He found it difficult to fight against his reasoning. "Marshall…"

"She'd rather die than go through this again, Nielsen." Perhaps if he knew the extent of Elsa's misery he would help him. "She said so herself. I've got no idea what this is, all I know is I won't take any chances." He was getting mad again, he needed the old man to listen and understand something needed to be done.

He anticipated surprise, but what he didn't expect to see in the doctor's eyes was the pain and concern that followed, telling Marshall everything he needed to know: Whatever Elsa had gone through was bad enough for her claims to be taken seriously.

Keeping momentum, he continued, "you can't expect me to go home and pretend what I've seen, what she's said to me, doesn't matter, Nielsen." The doctor's silence pushed him forward. "If you can't promise me you'll find a better way to help her, then the least you could do is tell me what's happened to her. So I can at least help her deal with this torture."

"Please, Marshall," Nielsen urged, his voice low and laced with ambivalence. "There are other things to—"

"I'm not going home until you do."

Taking off his glasses, Nielsen scrubbed his eyes as he debated what was best to do. He breathed in deeply before agreeing to his request with a nod. "Sit down," he instructed.

Looking at the row of chairs behind him, Marshall shook his head. "It's not necessary."

"Yes, it is." The seriousness in Nielsen's voice caught him by surprise. "You clearly care about this girl and what I'm about to tell you might bring out the worst in you. Sit down and please don't make me regret this."

---

Anna felt a familiar boredom settling in despite her best efforts to keep distracted. Breathing in and out in a failed attempt to get rid of the feeling, she glanced at the clock and sighed in frustration when she noticed two hours had gone by.

Even if spending time inside the clinic's waiting area had become a constant in her life lately, she hated how it was always accompanied by a deep-seated worry. To make matters worse, every day she was left behind on the other side of those glass doors, anxiously awaiting news about her sister.

Just like every other day, she had tried to find an excuse to be allowed inside the ICU. Driving her mother-in-law to the hospital was meant to ease Kristoff's burden, allowing him to sleep a bit longer before his shift at the factory. Deep down, however, Anna had hoped Gerda or Nielsen —or whoever made the decisions around there— would let her see her sister, even for just a few minutes. Elsa had woken up the day before, yet so far only Gerda, Kai, and Marshall had been allowed in to see her. While Anna understood the reasoning behind the rules in place, it felt incredibly unfair to be left outside, not even permitted in the small waiting area just outside the unit.

Standing up, she walked around the waiting room. She drank some water and even poured some to the small plant by the window. She took short steps, hoping time would somehow start moving faster. Part of her envied Kristoff; at least he had a responsibility to distract him while they waited for their chance to see Elsa. And it was In moments like this that she regretted not attending more classes earlier in the semester.

Another fifteen minutes went by and she got fed up with waiting. Walking over to the reception desk, she asked the man filling in for Andrea if he could at least let her into the ICU waiting room. To her dismay, he refused, insisting that the rules were there for a reason. Anna forced a smile, suppressing the urge to smack him in the face and turned back towards the main door. She'd rather face her boredom outside than be trapped in a room filled with anxious faces.

Once outside, she breathed in the brisk autumn air. The weather had shifted drastically in the last few weeks, leaving the warm days behind. At first, she had welcomed the grey skies, feeling they matched the sombre mood of everyone around her better. But as the nights had become colder, thoughts of Elsa filled her mind, reminding her of the Autumn days she had planned to spend with her sister at the mountain.

As soon as her thoughts drifted back to Elsa, the fleeting calm brought by the cool air vanished. Anna knew Gerda would care for her sister better than anyone else could, but a nagging fear still lingered. Now that her sister was awake, would the other doctors bother her? Would they take advantage of her vulnerable state? Just the thought made her stomach churn, intensifying her longing to see her.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to steady herself. It was only a matter of time; the worst was behind them. At least, that was what she desperately wanted to believe. She closed her eyes again, relishing the sharpness of the cold air, imagining it was Elsa's presence when someone brushed past her, nearly knocking her off balance.

"Hey!" Anna exclaimed, irritated at whoever had collided with her. She might have been in the way, but that didn't excuse being shoved.

Annoyed by the rudeness, she scanned the area for the culprit. In the distance, she spotted Marshall walking fast towards the car park. For a moment she thought about letting him go, it was useless to try to talk to him when he was in a bad mood. But then she remembered that, despite his brusque demeanour; he wasn't typically rude. He wouldn't push someone aside, not even accidentally, unless something was wrong. Concerned by what might be troubling him, Anna hurried after him.

By the time she reached him, he was already by his truck. A short man stood next to him, talking even when Marshall didn't seem to notice, too absorbed in trying to open the driver's door. Curiosity got the best of Anna and she approached them quietly.

"In case you ever need help, sir," the small man said, extending a booklet towards Marshall, who continued to ignore him, still struggling with his keys. "Sir," the man repeated, tapping Marshall's shoulder with a smile.

Anna winced, expecting Marshall to lash out. But despite the sour glare he shot the man, he took the booklet without a word.

"God bless you," the man said with a content nod before walking away.

Only then did Anna realise he was a missionary going about his day. She felt a wave of relief seeing that Marshall had kept himself in check, even when he seemed to be clearly upset.

"Why do they waste their time with this?" she heard him mutter as he inspected the booklet before flinging it aside.

"Because they honestly think they can offer you salvation," Anna said, loud enough for him to hear her as she picked it up.

"Goddamnit!" Marshall exclaimed, startled by her presence. The sudden jolt made him drop his keys, which clattered on the floor and under the truck.

"Not so loud. You might offend him…" Anna chuckled, glancing around to see if the man was still nearby. "Or God," she added with a smirk.

"I doubt there's a God up there," Marshall said in between huffs, as he knelt down, reaching for the keys.

"You never know." Anna leaned against the side of the truck, the booklet still in her hand.

"There better not be," he said when he finally retrieved the keys. Wasting no time, he stood up and went back to his task. The seriousness in his voice told Anna it was best not to insist on the topic.

She watched him struggle with the lock, muttering all kinds of profanities in the process. Anna was relieved that at least he'd kept those to himself while the missionary was around. After failing to unlock the car for a third time, he began pulling from the handle so hard it worried Anna he'd rip it right off.

"You stupid idiot," he mumbled when the door still wouldn't budge. "Get a grip."

Even when she tried to keep a cool exterior, seeing Marshall so out of sorts troubled Anna deeply. She couldn't ignore what she'd read about his explosive disorder, nor could she shake the feeling that something bad had happened at the hospital to set him off.

Not being able to hide her concern any longer, she asked, "Are you okay?

"No, I'm not." Marshall replied in a heartbeat, surprising and unsettling Anna all the more.

"Is Elsa okay?" At the mention of Elsa's name, Marshall froze. It was just for a fraction of a second, but enough for Anna to notice.

"Marshall?" Anna insisted, dread creeping into her voice.

"I don't know," he finally said, avoiding her gaze. "Could you please leave?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" She grabbed his arm, forcing him to look at her. "What happened to her?"

"Please, leave me alone, Anna." He yanked his arm from her hold.

"You can't just tell me you don't know if Elsa's okay and then expect me to walk away," she said indignantly.

"Nothing happened," he insisted, finally meeting her eyes. His eyes, red and strained, carried the weight of barely contained worry. "Leave." His voice wavered, fighting to keep his emotions in check.

"No."

"Just leave!" He slammed his fist against the metal frame of the truck, the impact sending a jolt of pain up his arm. "Fuck!"

"You're scaring me…" Anna murmured, as she watched him shake his hand. "What's going on?"

He exhaled heavily, leaning forward to rest his forehead against the truck's frame. "I can't mess this up," he began to say, as he tapped his head in a vain attempt to release his pent-up frustration. "I can't let anyone see me lose my shit. I won't forgive myself if I can't be there for her… But you won't leave me alone, and this piece of shit won't work!" He struck the door again, the metallic bang reverberating among the other cars.

Taking a step back, Anna wondered if it wasn't best to leave. Gerda or Nielsen would eventually let her know if something serious had happened to her sister. But the raw pain written on his face, as well as the tremors running through his body, held her back. If she let him go, she feared she might only hear about him again in the news —perhaps involved in a car crash or taking his anger out on someone else. Despite her rational mind urging her to walk away, she decided to try one more time to help him. "You can't drive like this. You're shaking."

"I know! I know!" he snapped, his voice rising. "But if I stay here, I might lose it. And if I lose it—" His throat constricted, choking back the tears. He then leaned heavily against the car, his forehead pressed into the cool metal as he scrubbed his hands through his hair repeatedly. "I can't be that guy. Not now, not when Elsa needs me," he mumbled when the lump in his throat allowed him to.

Once again, Anna hesitated on what was best to do. Even when Elsa's sickness had brought them closer —in an unusual kind of way— Anna didn't know how far she could push until he snapped.

Taking a couple of steps closer, Anna hoped she was doing the right thing. She silently wished her sister would be there to help her calm him down. Reaching out, she placed a hand on his shoulder, grounding him. "Marshmallow, give me the keys. You won't be able to help her if you kill yourself in a car accident."

He paused, looking at her once again. The weight of her words hung heavily in the air and seemed to clear his head, if only a little. He let go of his hair and gave Anna the keys. He had scraped his scalp with them in the process but didn't seem to notice.

She stood there, holding the keys close to her chest and wondering what step was best to take next. Making up her mind, she asked him to step back and tried to open the car's lock. To her surprise, she was successful in the first try. As soon as she inspected the keys, she guessed he must have been using the trunk keys all along. She sighed in relief, thankful she had stayed; his mistake only proved he wasn't in the right mindset to drive.

"Let me drive you home," she offered, unsure what else she could do for him. He tried to refuse, but she insisted. "It's no bother. I'm also willing to listen if you need to talk to someone…"

Marshall looked down, running his hand through his hair once again. She waited for him to argue or refuse, but he didn't. Anna took his silence as his way of saying yes and climbed into the driver's seat and unlocked the passenger's door.

It took a while, but Marshall got in the vehicle in the end. Slamming the passenger's door close, he leaned back on his seat and let out a shaky breath. "I'm sorry I snapped at you," he said, his voice laced with sadness.

Anna offered him a sympathetic smile and finally stopped to look at him. He was a mess, there was no doubt about it. Anger, sadness and worry mingled to the point he could barely hold himself together. It alarmed her, but she did her best to remain calm. One of them had to.

"When was the last time you ate? She asked, unsure of what else to say.

"Does it matter?"

"It does to me. You've spent the whole night looking after my sister after all." She turned on the engine and looked at him with a fake smile trying hard to pretend the worry wasn't consuming her. "Let's grab a bite."

"I'm not hungry," Marshall sighed. "I feel sick, to be honest."

Anna opened her mouth, wanting to ask what had truly happened inside the hospital to set him off like that. But stopped herself short, unsure of the odds of Marshall opening up to her. Once again she remained silent, he'd eventually tell her where to go.

"Out of everyone I've ever known," Marshall began to say when the silence between them became unbearable even for himself. "Elsa's the one who least deserves the pain life has put her through."

Opening her eyes in shock, Anna turned to him. Marshall knew Elsa's life hadn't been easy, but for him to say something like that meant either something terribly bad had happened to Elsa, or he had finally learnt more about her past. "If anyone deserves a break, it's her. But I'm sure things will take a turn for the better, don't you think?" she replied tentatively.

Slightly turning his head in her direction, Marshall spoke, "Nielsen told me about her childhood."

"What about it?" she asked, unsure how much the doctor had shared.

"Everything, I guess… It makes me sick."

There was no doubt in her mind what Nielsen had shared with him. It felt strange to talk about Elsa's childhood with someone besides Kristoff, but she remembered the way she had felt the night Elsa had opened up to her. To say she had felt sick didn't quite do it justice. Even when Elsa hadn't explicitly told her all the gruesome details, it had been enough to make Anna want to crawl out of her skin. She could only imagine what Nielsen had explained to him.

"At first you feel sick," Anna began to say. She didn't feel comfortable talking about it, but the mountaineer was trying to open up. He was making an effort and the least she could do was listen and let him know she understood. "I don't know how much Nielsen has shared with you, but the mere idea of what happened is enough to set you off. You'll want to fix things, eventually, and you'll have no idea where to begin." Taking in a deep breath, she held the steering wheel tightly and tried to remember everything she had gone through since the day she learnt about her sister's past. "After that you'll want to find out more about the people responsible, only to come to understand they're all in the past. In Elsa's past. You'll then feel helpless."

"I'm not sure this is helping," Marshall murmured.

"If you care about my sister the way I think you do, then I doubt there's anything I can say that will make this any easier."

Looking up, Marshall drew in another shaky breath, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. "I'm afraid this will be too much for her. Last night—" He sighed once more, stopping mid-sentence.

"What?" asked Anna, concerned.

"...I've never seen her so afraid."

Anna knew there was more he wanted to say, but he had changed his mind. "The only thing left for us to do is find a way to make the pain less painful, the memories less scary…"

"That doesn't help me," he said, suddenly annoyed, as if he had been expecting Anna to have all the answers. "I don't know what's best for her anymore."

"I know. We can't do much to help and it sucks," admitted Anna, understanding his frustration. "You need to get comfortable with just being there for her and hope it's enough."

"What if it isn't enough?" he mumbled.

"What?"

"It doesn't matter," he said, shaking his head. "Let's go grab something to eat."

Anna looked at him, suddenly unsettled by his comment, but decided to give him time. If there was something else he'd like to share with her, he would, at his own pace. Feeling glad she had at least done enough to calm him down, Anna began to drive. Perhaps spending time away from the clinic would help them both.

---

Elsa woke up with a startle in the middle of the morning, surprising both Gerda and Nielsen. He had been discussing with Gerda their options regarding Elsa's recovery, when the younger woman suddenly aimed for the IV line in her arm. It was unexpected, but they managed to calm her down without needing to sedate her—a significant step forward, in Nielsen's opinion.

Gradually, Elsa's drowsiness and confusion began to fade. Although she struggled to grasp even the simplest pieces of information, she seemed to trust Gerda. Her soothing voice and patient demeanour provided comfort amidst the turmoil, giving Nielsen the opportunity to check on Elsa and take notes of any question she was able to answer.

It was clear that Elsa's body resisted even the simplest movements; each breath felt like a struggle, as if the air had turned thick and suffocating. This had initially worried Gerda, but Nielsen remained calm, reminding her that the first few days were the hardest and that Elsa would eventually come out of that state.

As Elsa lay in her hospital bed, grappling with both physical pain and emotional turmoil, Gerda remained by her side. Keeping her injured arm away from Elsa's line of sight, but sitting close enough for her daughter to feel her presence.

After an hour, when Nielsen had excused himself and left them alone, Gerda noticed Elsa looking at her. Though her eyes were unfocused and not quite like their usual self, there was enough clarity for Gerda to sense that something was on her mind.

"Is there anything you need, dear?" Gerda asked, blinking back tears. During the first few nights, Gerda had feared she might never see her daughter again; being here now, asking if she needed assistance felt like a blessing in comparison to those long nights watching over her.

"Gerda?" Elsa began tentatively, her voice raspy but steady. "What am I doing here?"

Gerda hesitated, her gaze avoiding Elsa's for a moment before she replied in a measured tone. "They're trying to help you, dear. You're sick and you've been through a lot. Trust Dr. Nielsen."

Elsa sighed, frustration taking over the confusion.

"I wish I could explain everything, Elsa," Gerda said, as she extended her good arm to brush a strand of hair from her daughter's face. She tried to pretend the way Elsa flinched didn't affect her and continued, "Right now, the most important thing is for you to focus on getting better."

Elsa nodded, though Gerda could see the gears turning inside her head with unanswered questions. Deep down, Gerda hoped the clinical walls and beeping monitors wouldn't serve as constant reminders of Elsa's confinement.

Taking her time, Gerda smoothed the blanket covering Elsa. Though it was harder with just one hand, she managed to arrange it comfortably. When she turned back to her daughter, eager to see if she felt a bit more comfortable, she found that Elsa had fallen back asleep, a reminder that it would take a long time until she made a full recovery. Breathing in deeply, Gerda hoped the next time Elsa woke up things wouldn't feel so frightening.

---

"How is she?" Anna asked after the waiter delivered their breakfast and left them on their own. They had found a quiet bar near the coastal area, on the other side of town. A much needed change of view for both of them.

"She's awake," Marshall said, placing the cup of coffee back in its saucer.

"That doesn't tell me anything," said Anna, hoping he'd share more about her sister. "Has she talked to you? Is she even aware of what's going on?"

"Not to the fullest, no…"

The reply hung in the air, thick with unspoken fears. Anna remained silent, knowing there was more Marshall wanted to say but he couldn't find the words. So she waited, giving him the time she was certain he needed.

Patience rewarded her when after taking another sip from his coffee, he said, "What if I can't find a way to help her? What if every time I try to help I end up hurting her?"

"How?" asked Anna, as she picked a small sandwich from the plate in the middle of the table. She had been waiting for Marshall to pick some food himself before she did, but it was clear he was too tense to eat anything.

"Reminding her of her past. Abusing her…" He held the cup tightly to the point his fingers turned white. "I'm like them after all."

She stopped with the sandwich mid-air, unsure what he meant. "Like who?"

"I didn't understand what she was trying to tell me last night, but now I do…" he said, his voice trembling slightly. "Whenever I do something medical, it reminds her of them."

"Marshall, no," Anna interjected, her voice firm. "Elsa's sick, and you're doing what you have to do to help her. She'll be thankful it's you the one helping her and not some stranger with dubious intentions. Trust me, there's no one better." She took a bite and thought about it for a bit longer before adding, "Well, perhaps Gerda. I mean, she's always been there for Elsa. But you know what I mean."

When he didn't reply, she called his name, wanting to make sure he had listened. "Marshall?"

"I can't stop thinking about it," he admitted, his voice cracking. Tears began to well in his eyes, blurring his vision. "What if I trigger something? What if I make it worse? I don't want to be a reminder of all the shit she went through."

"Hey…" Anna called out, gently placing a hand on his arm.

He shook his head, trying to regain control. "It's fine," he said, not wanting to let her see too much of his softer side. "I wish I could take away her pain. That's all."

She let go of his arm, understanding he didn't like the extra attention. "You can't do that, Marshall. None of us can. Just being there for her, showing her she's not alone… that's enough."

"I hope so."

"Talking about being there for her," said Anna after a moment. "Did you talk to Nielsen about me visiting her?"

Avoiding her eyes, he shrugged.

"You said you'd try to convince him."

"No, I didn't," he argued in his defence.

"I need to see her, Marshall. Promise me you'll try to convince him."

"I'll see what I can do."

---

First of all, let me say that I'm incredibly relieved I'm finally posting this chapter, but I am also ashamed. I can't believe time went by so fast, I left you guys hanging for so very long that I'm not entirely happy with this chapter. I mean, I'm happy I finally found an order to the ideas I had in my head, but I can't help feeling this chapter must be incredibly disappointing after so long. I fought tooth and nail to add a scene where the sisters reunited—or better yet the siblings reunited— but everything felt so rushed and out of place. I had ideas and scenes here and there but I couldn't find a coherent way to incorporate things and make the story keep its rhythm. In part, it's because the last few months I had a lot of trouble sitting down to write. Not only my story but reviews and comments as well. I'm actually ashamed about that as well. I owe some of you so many replies. I'm not lying when I say I'll get back to you. I swear. Have fun reading!

Tag time:

@swimmingnewsie @melody-fox @kristoffxannafanatic @kristannafictionals @neptrabbit  @skneez @ellacarter13 @wondering-in-life @who-i-am-8 @fanfictionrecommendations-com  @815-allisnotlost @khartxo @joannevixxon @betweenthedreams @burbobah @rileysfs  @earlvessalius  @blood-jewel @snowycrocus @the-sky-is-awake @disneyfan103 @anamaria8garcia @welovefrozenfanfiction  @bigfrozenfan @bigfrozenfan-archive @frozenartscapes  @deisymendoza  @zackhaikal123  @cornstarch @roostercrowedatmidnight @showurselfelsa @when-dawn-arrives @tare-disney  @wabitham @just-your-local-history-nerd @dontrunintofirexoxo @daphmckinnon @poketin @luna-and-mars  @shimmeringsunsets @aries1708  @wabitham @agentphilindaisy @spkfrozenkindikids123 @jimmi-arts @snowmanmelting @loonysama  @hiptoff @loonysama @tare-disney @frozenwolftemplar  @true–north @holycolordreamertree @bigfrozensix It's been so long I don't know who of you is still interested in this story or the fandom lol. Please let me know if you're no longer interested and I'll remove you from the list. Take care!

[lelitachay]

Alright so new chapter in ao3, and let me just say, WHY?!!! Of course Elsa wasn't going to be ok when she woke up but just ajdkfkfjwuwj. Poor baby just can't stop suffering.

With that said, i just LOVE the dinamic between Marshall and Anna, they both care about Elsa, but at the same time they have their own struggles and worries that they have to face. Not only that but probably they need the comfort of each other and well, wether Marshall wants it or not, Anna is there to help him cope with the situation.

As for Kai and Gerda well they are clearly exhausted: Kai for having to deal with the doctors and (probably) the cops, and Gerda for having to see her child suffer again and not being able to do everything she would usually do to help Elsa.

Kristoff, he's, well, hanging there? Just like everybody else he's tired, and not being able to see his sister isn't much help, he has to rely on whatever information he can get from Kai, wich tends to be more bad news than good news.

And again with Elsa, i had the feeling that waking up in a hospital was going to be bad enough for her, but not being able to recognice what is real and what is not is just too heartwrenching. She feels trapped again and the people who she trusts the most feel distant from her. Welp there goes the angst. Let's just hope she gets better and doesn't try to run away from the hospital at the first chance she gets (even if she probably wouldn't), luckily Marshall is there to help her feel some sort of normalcy in her life.

I'm already missing olaf and sven' fluff with all this pain.

And before this gets too long (it probably already did) there's also some drawings that i did based on the last chapter.

Holy cow, Holy! It's so nice to hear back from you after so long. And you bring the greatest gift with you. Your art! 😍🎨

I love the way you captured Marshall's anger and dejected expression, as well as Anna's understanding one. Chapter 53 ending is clearly captured in your drawings. Thank you for that.

I hope you really enjoyed chapter 54 and 55 as well, and I'm sorry I took so long to post about the chapters here. I'll fix that soon.

Thank you!!

[lelitachay]

send this to other 5 moots you think are wonderful!! keep up the positivity!! 💙💙💙

Aaah! Hi, SnowQueen! Such a long time! I think you're wonderful. I can't wait for Frozen hype to start building once again so we can have our amazing debates. 🩵

[lelitachay]

Søsken

Chapter 55 is up!

I've fallen behind in uploading the chapters here on Tumblr, but I promise I'll fix it soon. I think chapters 53, 54 and 55 are not here yet. But I'm not sure. I need to check, perhaps it's only 54 and 55.

In the meantime, please go read them here (AO3) or here (fanfiction).

I hope you enjoy the chapters and I promise I'll upload the chapters here as well.

Feel free to leave a comment 😉

[lelitachay]

I still respect my desktop computer very much. It has it's own piece of furniture designed by me to place the tower and the sound system. Then it's own desk for the monitor and speakers and tray for its keyboard and mouse. There's another adjacent cabinet for the printer and the paper. Everything has its own place and order.

I also tell her that I love her very much. Not kidding 😂

[lelitachay]

The nanny Fran is a Pokémon trainer now. Not bad if you ask me. I'd watch this. 😂

[lelitachay]

New chapter of Søsken up!

Chapter 53 is finally among us.

I haven't had the time to edit and post it here as usual. But in the meantime, here are the links to AO3 and Fanfiction.

Ao3 - Chapter 53

FF - Chapter 53

[lelitachay]

I thought the dog had frozen. WTF. My brain stopped working for a bit

The back of the hooked rug I just finished, after finishing and before.

The books that taught me how to rug hook emphasized neatness and not jumping over lines of hooking, and I've tried to adhere to that. It makes fixing mistakes a lot easier.

[lelitachay]

What? That's insane. I remember watching Buffy on TV back in the day, but I guess I never watched beyond season 3. I guess I should, given this is what's waiting for me.

Buffy season 6 is insane. It’s like what if someone you loved died a meaningful and accepting death but you couldn’t live without them so you brought them back. And against all odds, they didn’t come back wrong, but they didn’t WANT to come back at all, and now they have to learn to live in this world again while resenting their friends and family for taking the death they willingly chose away from them. And existence is hell compared to death because in life they never get a break and never get to rest because they’re constantly needed by everyone. And they can’t chose to die a second time because they know what it would do to their loved ones who still never got over the fact that they died the first time. And also there’s a musical episode.