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 Chapter 55 - Here Chapter 56 - Here Chapter 57 - Here
-
I'll stand by you
Marshall didn’t move for the next hour. He sat by her bedside, his hand cradling hers while his thumb ran idle strokes. He could tell sleep wasn’t coming easily— it hadn’t for days. She had told him one night she couldn’t, no matter how tired she felt. He’d reassured her it was normal. A frustrating part of healing. The more she tried to force it, the harder it became.
This time, it felt different. Her body had begun to relax somewhat, but every so often, her fingers tensed against his, her brows twitched and her breath hitched. When she opened her eyes, frustrated with herself, she didn’t pull away or ask him to leave. But they didn’t have the strength to say much else. He stayed by her side, watching her face twitch in pain every so often.
He wished he could take it all away. The pain. The heartache. Even the scars he was still pretending not to see. He wondered if she would ever confide in him about her past. It felt unlikely, given how much it clearly hurt her. Until then, he supposed it was best to keep pretending he only knew what she let him see.
When her breathing finally evened out, and he was certain she’d drifted off to sleep, Marshall drew in a careful breath. Staring at her face one last time, he slowly pulled his hand free and moved soundlessly toward the door, closing it gently behind him with a soft click.
The hallway was mostly dark and empty, and for that he was thankful. Pressing his back against the cool wall outside Elsa’s room, he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes, taking a moment to get himself together. He needed just one minute to regain his footing. But the familiar fire was already rising in his chest. That explosive, volatile part of himself that showed up when things felt out of his control. He was furious. At the people who had hurt her in her past. At himself for not doing more; for not helping her sooner. At Nielsen. At her family. At the whole damn situation.
He hated this part of himself, the one that threatened to take over without warning.
He brought a hand to his face, palm pressed against his mouth as if he could muffle the fury and violence that threatened to burst out. He stood still until the pounding in his chest dulled to something bearable.
The sound of footsteps around the corner pulled him back to reality and he straightened up immediately. Pushing himself off the wall, he pretended he had things under control.
“Marshall?” A familiar voice called his name. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping the loud voice hadn’t woken Elsa. The last thing he needed was for her to come to her senses while she was still alone.
He turned and saw Ingrid approaching, a clipboard tucked under one arm, one hand stuffed in her pocket.
“Well, I didn’t expect to find you here.” Her tone was still tinged with mischief, but there was a hesitation beneath it, like she wanted to be taken seriously this time. “You weren’t here when I made my round in the evening. Thought you might have taken Saturday night off.”
He didn’t reply. He wasn’t in the mood for conversation, especially not one that implied he should be anywhere else. Even his mother had tried to convince him to take the night off—gently, almost apologetically, as if she knew he’d refuse. Whatever Ingrid had to say didn’t worry him in the least.
Ingrid stepped closer, her brow furrowing slightly as she got a better look at his face. Her tone softened. “Are you alright?”
Marshall clenched his jaw and looked away. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not,” Ingrid replied without missing a beat. “You still lie like an eighteen-year-old.”
“Ingrid.” His voice was tight, a clear warning not to push past his limits.
She studied him for a moment, then let the teasing tone slip away. “I wasn’t trying to poke the bear,” she said quietly. “It’s just— I don’t like seeing you like this. Your girl will pull through; she’ll be okay.
“I’m not here for small talk,” he muttered.
“I know.” She glanced over her shoulder towards the nurse station. “I’ll be around if you need anything.”
When he didn’t reply, she gave him one last look and walked away.
Marshall waited till she was gone to lean back against the wall and let his head fall back with a dull thump. He stood there, breathing through the simmering rage, counting backward from ten. Again and again.
The plan was to go back into Elsa’s room once he had calmed down. He was more useful by her side than playing his paranoid game, but the chance was perfect. Ingrid had practically invited him to find her after all.
He cast one last glance at Elsa’s door and silently begged for her to stay asleep, then made his way to the nurse station.
Ingrid sat alone at the small desk, cluttered with papers and an open patient chart. She seemed lost in thought, her pen tapping lightly against a sheet she’d been writing on earlier. It took her a moment to notice him, and when she did, she turned his way with a soft smile—like she’d been waiting for him.
“Something wrong?” she asked, casually, though he caught the flicker of worry behind her eyes.
“What are you doing here?” Marshall asked, voice low in case another nurse showed up.
She blinked, then turned back to her chart. “Same thing I’ve always done in clinics and hospitals. I work here.”
“No,” he snapped, taking a step forward. “You know that’s not what I mean.”
She sighed and set the pen down. “I think you’re misinterpreting something.”
“You weren’t assigned to her,” he pressed. “Nielsen gave me a list. Your name wasn’t on it.”
“I’m filling in,” she replied, flatly. “One of the night nurses couldn’t make it. They asked me to cover.”
“Who?” he pressed.
She hesitated, just for a breath, but he saw it. “Ingrid. Who are you covering for?”
“Does it matter?” she deflected. “You’re acting like I’m some stranger. I work here, Marsh.”
“What nurse?” he demanded again. “Give me a name.”
Ingrid flipped through the folder, deliberately avoiding his eyes. “I’ve got things to do. Either tell me what you need, or let me work.”
“Stop dodging the question,” he said, his voice rising with frustration. “Either tell me who you’re filling in for or why you’re really here.”
With a resigned breath, Ingrid closed the folder. “The official line is that Frida called in sick.”
He narrowed his eyes. “And the unofficial?”
She hesitated for a moment. “She requested to be taken off your girl’s case,” she said more quietly. “She’s asked multiple times. Each one was denied.”
Ingrid offered a small, careful smile, meant to say more than she was actually saying. “I’m not here to cause harm, Marshall.”
Not knowing what to think anymore, Marshall took a step back. He didn’t trust himself to keep the conversation going without snapping. “I need to talk to Nielsen,” he muttered, already turning towards the door.
“You’re letting it control you again,” Ingrid said behind him before he could leave.
Marshall froze mid-step. Then, slowly, he turned to face her. “That’s low.”
“And doubting me isn’t?” she said, folding her arms. “Look at yourself. You’re a mess, dear.”
“I’m not—” He stopped himself, jaw clenched. He shook his head, as if trying to push the rising fire back down. “You don’t get to throw that in my face.”
“I’ve seen you throw your life away before. Don’t let your temper ruin what you have now.”
The words struck deep. He looked at her for a long, heavy moment, as shame crawled up and settled beside the anger. Then, without another word, he turned on his heel and walked off.
Back in Elsa’s room, Marshall let out a relieved sigh when he saw she hadn’t stirred. She was still curled slightly to the side, her face more peaceful than it had been all night. He moved closer, careful not to wake her, and sat back down in the chair. Watching her breathe calmed something inside him, helping him bury the last of the fury that had nearly consumed him. He could feel his body aching, stiff from tension and exhaustion.
Outside, the first light of morning spilled through the blinds, casting pale lines across the room.
---
The hallway outside Elsa’s room was quiet when Anna arrived. She walked softly, careful not to disturb the other patients. She hadn’t seen many people in this part of the ward over the past few days. She supposed Elsa had been deliberately placed in the farthest room—a logical precaution, considering her powers could drop the temperature in an instant.
She hadn’t planned to come so early. Kristoff had shown up at her parents’ house, waking her and Idunn. For a moment, she’d felt her world collapse. But before she could imagine the worst, he explained something about a meeting. It seemed to be important enough that both her in-laws were needed, and that Gerda wouldn’t be able to watch over Elsa that morning. He hadn’t offered many details, but he didn’t have to. It was enough to know that someone had to be there, and Marshall might need rest, breakfast, or simply a break from sitting at her sister’s bedside all night.
Anna gently pushed open the door and peeked inside, hoping not to wake Elsa if she’d finally managed some sleep. She knew how rare it was for her to rest more than a few hours at a time.
The room was still dim, lit only by the soft gray light filtering through the window. Elsa lay curled under the blanket, her face pale, dark circles beneath her eyes, but peaceful, for once. Marshall sat beside her, hunched forward in the chair, his forearm resting on the edge of the mattress. His head was lowered, turned away from the door, resting on his arm. His fingers were tracing lazy, almost thoughtless strokes across the back of Elsa’s hand.
Anna paused at the door, surprised to catch him unaware of his surroundings for once. Part of her wanted to leave and give him a little more time, but knew she’d regret not taking advantage of the rare tender scene unfolding in front of her.
She stepped inside, quietly closing the door behind her. Mischief drew on her face before she spoke. “Should I come back later, or…?”
Marshall flinched, straightening abruptly. A flush crept up his neck as he pulled his hand back in one swift motion and turned to look at her.
“Sorry,” Anna said, offering a fake, apologetic smile. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you two.”
He ran a hand through his hair in a half-useless attempt to smooth it and look more presentable. “She’s asleep.”
“I can see that,” Anna replied, her smile widening. “It still feels like I walked into a private moment.”
Marshall exhaled softly and rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to Elsa. He seemed slightly annoyed, trying to keep it cool, but Anna noticed the faint shade of pink creeping up his neck again.
She watched him quietly, her teasing softening. The lines around his eyes were deeper this morning, the bags darker.
“Long night?” she asked as she walked further into the room, careful not to wake her sister.
He gave a vague hum in response, and she didn’t push for more. Part of her wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
Anna reached the bed and gently touched Elsa’s arm with the back of her hand. The light contact made Elsa’s brow twitch, so she withdrew it carefully.
Lowering her voice, she offered, “I can stay if you need. Gerda and Kai are at some meeting. I figured you might want to eat something. Or maybe go home and rest.”
Marshall didn’t answer right away. His eyes stayed fixed on the floor as he shook his head. “It’s okay. I don’t mind waiting for Gerda.”
Anna gave a soft sigh and moved to sit on the sofa. They could both stay and keep Elsa company, then. She glanced at Marshall, noting how his gaze kept drifting back to her sister, despite his attempts not to make it obvious.
She folded her arms and murmured, half under her breath, “You’re making it really hard for people to believe there’s nothing going on between you two.”
Marshall looked up, unimpressed. “Are you always this talkative when you wake up? I feel sorry for Kristoff.”
Anna grinned, knowing he was purposely avoiding the topic. “Elsa gets a free pass after what she’s been through—I won’t start teasing her now… But I don’t see why you’re still pretending. She came home wearing your clothes the night she got sick, after all.”
She wasn’t necessarily trying to fluster him. Maybe just giving him something else to think about that would ease the tension in his shoulders. When Marshall suddenly stood up, however, Anna froze, wondering if she’d pushed too far.
He just walked to the door. Before opening it, he glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “I’m going to grab a coffee. You want one?”
Relieved he hadn’t taken things the wrong way, she nodded. “Yes.” She let out a breath. “Thank you. Milky and with sugar, please.”
A small smile tugged at his lips, then he finally said, “Black with no sugar, it is.”
She caught the glint in his eye as he left the room and understood she’d just have to drink his bitter bitter revenge.
---
The tension in Landvik’s office was thick enough to cut with a scalpel. The grey morning light filtered through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the polished floor. A thin layer of fog clung to the glass, barely obscuring the ward buildings across the courtyard—one of which held Elsa.
Kai sat rigidly in the chair closest to the door, arms crossed over his chest. The lines on his face seemed deeper today, and he hadn’t said a word since entering the room. Beside him, Gerda sat with her hands folded tightly in her lap. Her expression was composed, but her restless eyes betrayed her unease.
At the center of the room, in the seat nearest the desk, sat Agdar. His jaw was clenched, both arms braced on the armrests, trying to maintain composure as he listened to Haugen.
“Until we receive another form of payment,” he said carefully, “I’m afraid we’ll have to place her care on temporary hold beyond the end of the week.”
“You’re telling me the clinic didn’t receive the payment?” Agdar asked.
“That’s correct,” Haugen said, laying a balance sheet on the desk. “The transfer authorization was revoked. I sent my secretary to follow up in person—I know you’re a busy man after all. The bank refused to process the funds.”
“There must be some mistake,” Agdar muttered, though the flicker of doubt in his voice betrayed the certainty he would have liked to show.
“There’s no mistake,” Haugen replied smoothly, glancing toward the window with faint satisfaction. “The funds came from your company’s account, didn’t they? If your board intervened—”
“They weren’t supposed to,” Agdar snapped. “This was a personal decision. One I have full authority to make.”
“A personal decision made with company funds?” Haugen raised an eyebrow. “I imagine the board might see that differently. Not that I’m here to tell you how to run your business, of course.”
Kai shifted in his seat, interrupting their conversation, “Elsa’s care is still continuing, isn’t it? I mean, this is just a misunderstanding.”
“Rest assured,” Landvik cut in quickly, “Miss Bjorgman is receiving appropriate treatment. Everything’s covered under the previous authorization we simply—”
“But unless another payment is arranged soon,” Haugen said plainly, “we won’t be able to continue under those terms. Of course, her recovery is our top priority. It’s just a matter of paperwork and we’ll have another solution ready.”
“You mean she’ll be discharged,” Gerda said quietly, fingers tightening around the edge of her coat, trying to steady her hands. “And transferred to a public hospital, right?”
Silence fell. But Haugen’s smile said everything.
“We would never deny her treatment, Mrs. Bjorgman,” he said smugly. “We’ll simply arrange another healthcare plan for her.”
Agdar slid the balance sheet back across the desk, cutting in before the conversation went further. “There won’t be a need for that. The board doesn’t speak for me. It's nothing but a misunderstanding.”
Haugen smiled. “I believe they do.”
“Excuse me?”
“As I understand it, a board exists to protect the company’s—and the investors’—best interests. Is that not correct?”
Agdar narrowed his eyes. “As you yourself said, you're not in a position to tell me how to run my company. The money I am lending this family is mine. The payment will go through. Everything will be sorted out by Tuesday.
“I care about transparency,” Haugen replied, still calm. “I wouldn’t want the clinic’s reputation compromised by a mismanaged transaction.”
“I believe Mr. Arendelle knows what he’s doing,” Kai growled. His tone was a warning. Low, firm, and unmistakable.
Haugen didn’t flinch. “I’m only laying out the facts. If we’re to continue housing her here—now at our expense—it’s only natural to ensure everything is in order.”
“There will be a meeting tomorrow morning,” Agdar said. “Everything will be resolved by Tuesday.”
“Tuesday is perfect,” Landvik agreed quickly with a tight smile. "I'll make sure her treatment continues as agreed."
Haugen leaned back, the faintest hint of mock admiration in his voice. “Well, now that's how you do business. You're clearly a man with a generous heart, Mr. Arendelle. I haven’t heard of many businessmen covering the full medical costs of a young woman just like that. May I ask, what does she represent to you?”
“She represents nothing,” Gerda said sharply. “She’s our daughter. And Agdar is an old friend of the family.”
Haugen’s smile widened. “I never suggested otherwise. I’m only curious. ArenCo has built a reputation in the technological and research field, and Ms. Bjorgman… Well, she is a medical mystery.”
He said it flatly, without judgment, but the words landed wrong. They coiled in the room, making Agdar feel ill with the weight of what was being implied. Before he could respond, Kai stood up and formally requested the meeting come to a close—as if it were obvious everything had been said.
---
The hallway outside the Landvik’s office felt cold and hostile when they stepped out. It wasn’t the kind of stillness Gerda was used to inside hospitals. It felt different. Unkind.
She walked with calm, measured steps, pretending the conversation inside hadn’t shaken her. Her hands stayed tucked deep in her coat pockets, hiding the faint tremor she didn’t want Kai to notice. Her fingers closed around a soft, familiar keychain nestled there. The yarn had worn smooth over the years, the little braid frayed at the ends where it had started to unravel. Strands of blue and pale gray twisted unevenly, one side tighter than the other, the knot at the end clumsy and a little bulky.
It wasn’t perfect. But it had been the first gift Elsa had ever given her.
Gerda had found it one morning, left on the edge of the kitchen counter, half-hidden beneath her purse as if Elsa hadn’t been sure she’d want it. Now, eight years later, Gerda found herself clutching it tightly, thumb tracing the uneven ridges of the braid whenever she was anxious.
“Gerda,” Agdar called her name, pulling her back to the present. “I’ll fix this. By Tuesday. You don’t need to worry.” His voice was low and careful as he tried to reassure her he had things under control.
She nodded once. She couldn’t say she trusted his word, but she had no other option. They were in too deep, and Elsa wasn’t ready to go home. At least not yet. She needed one more week. Or two. She made a mental note to talk to Nielsen later, explain the mess they were in, and see if there wasn’t a way she could bring her daughter home and care for her herself.
“I need to see Elsa,” she said after a moment, not really wanting to discuss anything that had to do with Agdar or his business. All she needed was for him to pay Haugen and buy them some time.
Kai took a step closer. “Gerda, are you—?”
“I’m okay, Honey.” She smiled, reassuringly, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Elsa must be awake by now.”
Leaving her husband to deal with Agdar. Gerda made her way to Elsa's room.
She hadn’t slept well the night before. Kristoff’s words kept echoing in her mind, reminding her she might have been doing more harm than good by hiding things. It wasn't that she hadn't really thought about the consequences of hiding the truth from her daughter before; she simply hadn’t expected Elsa to carry so much guilt without even knowing what had happened. It hurt to realize her daughter’s first instinct was always to blame herself.
She needed to tell her. Even if it shattered what little peace Elsa had managed to find after the confusion wore off. Even if it made her feel like she was back at square one. Dragging this out wouldn’t protect her anymore. Not if she was already tormenting herself with the little pieces of information she had gathered and didn’t fully comprehend.
There were too many half-truths hanging over Elsa’s head. They were building up, pressing down and threatening to break the trust they had once built between the two. If Gerda wanted to help her heal, she knew she had to start by sharing more. No matter how much it hurt, it was best to take one step at a time and let her into this new reality carefully.
Perhaps letting her know only a reduced, trusted, group of people knew about her would help her understand she was under good care—even if Gerda wasn’t so sure about that.
They had already spoken about rehabilitation, and that was one less thing on the list. Elsa still didn’t understand how long recovery might really take, but at least she’d accepted she needed to take things slow. Gerda had also explained the necessity of trusting Nielsen and the nurses, even if Elsa’s discomfort around the clinic staff hadn’t eased. Now came the hardest part: the weeks Elsa had spent unconscious, the arrangements made and the risks taken.
She couldn’t bring herself to tell Elsa the conditions they were under, though she knew she couldn’t keep everything from her anymore. Maybe if Elsa understood that only a small, trusted group knew about her condition, she’d feel a little safer. Even if Gerda wasn’t entirely sure of that herself.
Just thinking about the conversation made her stomach twist. No matter where she started, it felt like trying to climb the North Mountain in a snowstorm. But she had to start somewhere, and the accident was the one thing that couldn’t wait. She was tired of keeping her distance just to avoid Elsa seeing the injury. At least her hand was no longer wrapped. The burn was healing now, leaving behind only a rather small scar.
Peeking into Elsa’s room, Gerda let out a quiet breath, relief softening her features. Both Anna and Marshall were there, still keeping her daughter company.
Elsa sat upright against a pile of pillows, eyes fixed on the folded blanket draped across her lap. She hadn’t spoken much since waking, barely a few words when necessary. Gerda had once thought it was because of Nielsen’s or the physiatrist’s presence. Now that she got to see her in her friends’ presence, she realised the silence seemed to remain no matter who came by. Elsa was far away, locked in herself; her quiet reminding Gerda too much of the little girl she’d once taken home.
At least now, she didn’t have to be alone in that silence. Anna and Marshall filled the space with something warmer—something familiar. And hopefully, something safe.
Marshall sat beside her, angled slightly towards Elsa, forearms resting on his knees. Anna stood by the bedside table, adjusting a tray and setting a fresh glass of water within reach. She spoke softly, animatedly, about something she’d read once about water. The sound of her voice, light and easy, brought a small, unexpected smile to Gerda’s lips.
Let Anna fill the silence with mundane chatter, hoping the normalcy of it might bring her sister some comfort.
At the sound of Gerda’s quiet laugh, all three looked up. Anna being the first to greet her. “Gerda,” she said, surprised but gentle. “We didn’t see you there.”
Marshall stood, offering her a short nod. He was always polite, always respectful—but there was still hesitation in his manner. With Kai, there was tension. With her, there was uncertainty. Some days he felt comfortable enough to talk and confide in her even. Other days, he didn’t seem to know how to behave.
Gerda wished that would change. She wished he didn’t feel the need to walk on eggshells around the family—especially not if he was becoming an important part of Elsa’s life.
“Thank you both for keeping Elsa company,” Gerda said softly, though her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.
Anna glanced at Elsa, then back at Gerda. “Do you want us to...?” she asked, gesturing to herself, then Marshall and the door.
Gerda gave a small nod. “If you don’t mind. I’d like to spend the rest of the morning with her.”
Elsa didn’t look up, but Gerda saw her stiffen. She couldn’t tell if it was anticipation or dread. Not knowing hurt more than she wanted to admit. But after keeping her distance all week, afraid Elsa would notice her injury, she couldn’t expect things to feel easy now.
Elsa's posture stiffened, even though she didn’t look up. Gerda couldn’t tell if it was anticipation or dread. And not knowing hurt more than she wanted to admit. But after keeping her distance for so many days, afraid Elsa would notice her injury, she couldn’t expect things to feel easy now.
Anna glanced at Marshall, who nodded once and stepped towards the door. Before leaving, he looked at Elsa and promised her to return in the evening.
Gerda offered him a grateful smile. She didn’t know how or when their friendship had begun, but she was thankful for it.
She waited until the door clicked shut behind them before crossing the room. Her legs felt weak beneath her. She paused at the foot of the bed, one hand resting on it. She searched Elsa’s eyes, but Elsa turned her attention to the window, her eyes glassy and jaw clenched tight.
Gerda didn’t rush her. She gave her a moment, just in case she wanted to speak first. But Elsa stayed silent.
“I hope I didn’t interrupt,” Gerda said gently, a small smile tugging at her lip. “Anna seemed... entertained enough.”
Elsa gave the faintest shake of her head.
Gerda watched her for a moment longer, then sat down on the edge of the bed. The weight of everything Gerda needed to say pressed on her chest suddenly, and she wasn’t sure how to start the conversation.
“Will the physician come today?” Elsa asked.
“Physiatrist,” corrected Gerda, gently. With a smile, she placed her hand gently on Elsa’s knee. “Not today, just you and me this morning. No one else.”
Elsa didn’t respond. Her eyes looked at Gerda briefly before they drifted to her hand. Slowly, her brow furrowed.
Gerda followed her eyes and felt the air shift between them. Her hand twitched slightly, but she didn’t move to hide the scar that peeked out from beneath her sleeve.
“Did I—” Elsa’s voice caught. “Did I do that to you?”
Gerda didn’t answer right away. Instead, she reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her daughter’s face.
Elsa flinched.
“Nothing serious happened to me, dear,” Gerda whispered. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”
Elsa shook her head, pulling slightly away. “I didn’t mean to—”
“I know.”
“I didn’t—”
“I know, Elsa.” Gerda’s voice didn’t waver. “I’d never blame you.”
Gerda touched her cheek then, soft and steady. Elsa trembled, but didn’t pull away. Her eyes brimming with tears.
“I don’t want to do it again,” she said, voice hollow as she dropped her gaze. “I don’t want to keep hurting you. Or anyone.”
Gerda was tired of seeing her like this—hurting, blaming herself for things beyond her control. A wave of helplessness surged through her, and she had to blink her own tears away.
“You won’t hurt me.”
“I did.”
Gerda’s brow furrowed. “Elsa—”
“I don’t remember how,” Elsa whispered. “But it doesn’t matter. I still did it. It’s a matter of time until I lose control and I hurt you a third time.”
“You weren’t well,” Gerda said. “You didn’t know what was happening—”
“But I did.” Tears threatened to fall again, as her voice broke but she blinked them back furiously. “I always end up hurting the people I care about.”
Gerda let her hand fall, heart pounding. She wanted to argue. To tell her she was wrong. But she could see the cracks. She was barely holding together.
“Sweetheart—” she began again.
“I don’t know how to fix it.” Elsa’s fingers clenched the blanket tighter. “I want to. I want to so badly. But I don’t know how to make it stop. I don’t know how to be normal.”
Gerda couldn’t hold back any longer. She wrapped her arms around Elsa, holding her tightly—urgently—as though trying to keep her from slipping over the edge.
Elsa resisted. Her hands pushed once, but they lacked strength. Then she gave in. Hesitantly, she sank into her mother’s arms.
Gerda tightened her embrace. She rocked her gently, like she used to when Elsa was younger.
Elsa’s trembling fingers clutched at her sweater. Her breath hitched. And then she broke, quietly letting Gerda try to fix it for her.
---
Elsa’s breathing slowed, just barely, as she curled against her mother’s shoulder. The warmth of Gerda’s embrace should have soothed her. It should have made things easier.
But something gnawed at her.
That pressure.
The pressure that had lived inside her for days now. It was silent and constant, like a storm that wouldn’t break. The more she allowed herself to feel, the more suffocating it became.
Elsa stiffened, the realisation hitting her all at once. The only reason her powers weren’t spiraling was because something wasn’t right. She had sensed they were behaving strangely, restrained in a way she couldn’t explain.
She couldn’t believe she had let herself relax around her mother when she knew her powers couldn’t be trusted.
At this realisation and without warning, she pulled back, her body trembling as she pushed herself out of the embrace.
Gerda’s hold loosened instantly, “What is it? Does anything hurt?”
Elsa couldn’t meet her eyes. She folded her hands over her stomach, hiding them. “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”
Gerda reached for her, but Elsa recoiled, panic flashing across her face like lightning.
“No. Don’t! Please,” she begged. “I don’t think I should touch you right now.”
Gerda stayed still, wanting to respect her wishes. “Elsa, it’s okay.”
“No, it’s not,” Elsa snapped. Her breath caught and she dropped her voice immediately. “You don’t understand—” She looked down. “It’s too quiet.”
Gerda tilted her head, not following.
“The ice,” Elsa said, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s pushing, but something feels different. Something’s wrong.”
Slowly, she pressed her palm against the blanket, bracing for the familiar tingle. There was nothing. She should feel relieved it wasn’t controlling her for once, but it didn’t feel right. The unnatural stillness felt wrong. It made her anxious in a way she couldn’t explain.
“It’s not me holding it back.” Her eyes met Gerda’s, wide and frightened. “I don’t know what’s happening. It’s still there, I can feel it crawling under my skin, but I don’t know when it’s going to snap.”
“Elsa—”
“I mean it,” she insisted, voice rising again. “Please, you have to understand. It’s not safe. I don’t know what it’ll do the next time I fall asleep or panic or—”
Gerda reached up slowly, her hand barely brushing her cheek to dry her tears. “Stop, sweetheart. Just breathe.”
Elsa flinched at the touch.
“You are not dangerous, dear.”
Elsa wanted so badly to believe her. She wanted to lean back in. To close her eyes and pretend none of it mattered.
Gerda’s eyes softened. “It’s under control. I need you to trust me.”
Elsa blinked. “What do you mean?”
Gerda hesitated.
And that was enough for her to understand. “It’s not me,” she whispered.
Gerda looked away for the briefest second. Then nodded. “It’s a medicine. Just a little something in your IVs. It’s helping regulate your system, enough to keep things... calm.”
Elsa didn’t speak. Her throat closed up, and for a moment, she thought she might be sick.
Just a little pinprick. There’ll be no more…
That old voice inside her whispered it like it had never left. She felt caged, like a dangerous thing too unstable to trust. But she didn’t let it show. Only her hands betrayed her, curled into fists against her gown, fingernails biting into her palms.
“I see,” she said at last.
Gerda flinched, guilt flashing across her face. Somehow, that made it worse. Like she understood how much this would hurt and still agreed to it.
The silence between them stretched long and brittle, like ice over a deep lake thin enough to crack if one of them moved too quickly.
“It’s just temporary,” Gerda said gently. “To keep you safe.”
Elsa wanted to believe her. But fear had become a reflex—etched deep into her bones. She didn’t trust her voice, didn’t trust the frantic pulse pounding beneath her skin. Her chest burned with the effort to stay contained, to keep the panic buried.
She needed to believe her. She would hold on to that one thread and see if it held.
---
I feel like I’ve been editing this chapter for over a week, phew!
Anyway, a new chapter! And I’m excited about this one. Some parts of these scenes have been written for over six months. They were waiting in a dusty folder to see the light of day. I had to adapt them a bit; some other scenes are completely new. A lot more things than I originally intended happened in this chapter. Especially towards the end. Even I was surprised by Elsa and Gerda’s conversation.
Thank you all for your reviews and comments. I hope you like this chapter and continue to enjoy this story. Let me know what you think of the chapter itself, the characters or anything else that called your attention. I love reading your thoughts.
Also, I was planning to post this chapter on Sunday, as a small gift for “friends’ day” here in my country. But since it was friends’ day I spent all Saturday night and Sunday day out… which might surprise you but doesn’t help with my writing in the least. Go figure.
I hope you accept this little belated gift and enjoy it!
Take care and read you soon!
---
Tag time:
@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!
