#shardsverse au

[frozenprocedural]

In honor of the anniversary of @patricia-von-arundel‘s incredible Shardsverse, here is a preview of a commission done by the amazing @comickergirl for my (hopefully) upcoming multi-chapter the Beowulf Saga, based on Shardsverse. I’ll be dropping more as TDOE comes up!

[patricia-von-arundel]

The Boarding House AU: Elsa & Christmas

Rating: T

Summary: Shardsverse AU. After escaping a death sentence, and forced to come to terms with the idea that she can never return to Arendelle nor see Anna again, Elsa finds herself in the unexpected position of sharing a room with a poverty-stricken young scholar of magic…

Part I: Elsa & Alarik

…And according to tradition, the one who finds the almond will be the next to marry. 

Alarik was quite sure he’d made the biggest mistake of his life. And he’d made some very big mistakes. Elsa - just Elsa now, something she would probably have to adjust to just as he would - was tiny and wide-eyed and clearly terrified. What he had to try very hard to hide was that he, too, was on the verge of panic.    He waited until she was sure she was asleep. Then he put down his pen, closed his books, and gave over to hyperventilation. When that proved insufficient, he turned instead to pacing, carefully avoiding the squeakier floorboards. The room was frigid, the coals down to embers, but he didn’t want to add more in case the light - or heat - disturbed her. She seemed to be sleeping peacefully. Finally, exhausted by fear and shivering and the stresses of the day, he gathered up the spare blankets - kept for the dangerous cold of January and February - and managed a restless, dozing sleep until dawn. When the weak light woke him, he went immediately into what might, with luck, become a new routine, before the fear could grip him once more: he straightened and tucked his shirt in, ran a hand through his hair - for all the good that would do - and tore a strip from a discarded sheet of paper to write a quick note, in case Elsa woke before he returned. He went out into the cold morning, shivering despite scarf and gloves and coat, in search of breakfast. He usually just ate whatever was leftover from dinner the evening before, or nothing at all perhaps more often, but they had finished the bread and cheese and milk, and it seemed cruel to not have something for Elsa. He returned home half an hour later with a quarter pound of salted bacon, several half-price rolls from yesterday’s baking, and two small twists of brown paper: one of butter, the other of tea leaves. The butter was an indulgence, but he would water his ink for a few days to make up for it. Elsa was still asleep when he returned, and he wondered how long it had been since she’d had a full night’s rest. She looked very small and very peaceful, curled up on her side with her hands folded against her chest, blankets kicked off and her hair a pale, heavy fan around her. Despite the fear of the entire situation, he found himself feeling strangely, strongly protective of her - and of the trust her sister had placed in him. He was poor and weak and terrified, but he would do everything he could for her, until a better, safer - cleaner - place could be found for her to go. He used scrap wood and paper, now, for the fire, because it needed only to last through breakfast. He rarely allowed himself fires during the day. If it was too cold to go without, he went to the university, where reading room hearths blazed, or, on holidays, to church. He was not a believer, but he always wondered how many others found faith in the warmth of packed bodies and spent breath. While the fire built up, he took the bucket down to get clean water from the pump, for tea and for washing. When he got back, Elsa was sitting up, knuckling one eye like a sleepy child. When she saw him, she bit her lower lip. He stopped in the doorway, uncertainty holding him firmly as nails through his shoes. “Oh. Uh… Good morning.” “Good morning.” Her voice was thick and raspy with sleep. “Would you like some breakfast?” She blinked once, and again, before nodding. So he came in, set the bucket down, got to work. Bacon over the fire in one pot, water for tea in the other. Single plate and cup set out for her - with the butter; he could do without - and the milk bottle of the night before and the smoothed wax paper from the bacon for his own setting. He gave them each two rolls, leaving four more for lunch or dinner. Elsa, he noticed from the corner of his eye, had crawled to the end of the bed and perched there cross-legged, watching him work. But she said nothing, and so neither did he. He used his spoon to flip the bacon - he’d gotten lucky, for the price he was able to pay; it was a good cut, and was cooking very nicely - then took the pot of boiling water off the fire and sprinkled the tea in it to steep. “Almost ready,” he said. She was still watching, elbows on her knees and chin on her hands, but she didn’t reply. She didn’t seem to say much at all, but he didn’t know if that was a result of the fear and stress of the last few months, or just a natural reticence. All he knew of her, really, came from letters written several years before, the last arriving when he was just about to reach his twenty-first birthday - and some few days after newspaper headlines had reported the tragic loss of King Agdar and Queen Idunn of Arendelle. The king had never described his elder daughter’s appearance, or much of the personality now so masked by fear and self-doubt. Instead, he had written of her intelligence, her keen mind for mathematics, her quick wit. The letters had spoken of her consuming fears - but in all, his love for her had shone through. And now here was word made flesh, watching him cook her meager breakfast. Had Agdar known the real Elsa? Had anyone? Would Alarik? “Breakfast is served,” he said, putting plate and cup on the table. Elsa got down from the bed, walked the few steps across the room, picked up plate and cup, and sat across from him on the floor. Her raised eyebrow invited him to try arguing. He didn’t. Nor did he object when she took half the butter - cutting neatly through the middle - and placed the rest, still in its unwrapped twist, at the edge of his waxed-paper plate. She was a queen, and his training on aristocratic etiquette went deep. But more than that, he didn’t want to object. There was something to this silent exchange that sent warmth through him, as fleeting, perhaps, as a full belly, but nonetheless, he would take it. It was nice - he had shared no more than a rare meal offered to university staff in a very, very long time. Elsa was quiet, but it was already obvious she saw everything, actually listened to words spoken. It was likely learned of necessity, but regardless, he liked it. He liked her. “How did you learn to cook?” she asked as they ate - and there was genuine curiosity in her voice, beyond mere polite query. “I had to,” he said. The butter was good on rolls - he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had butter. “It was that, or starve.” He felt himself grinning, but could do nothing to prevent it. Elsa nodded, eyes focused on the food before her. “That makes sense. I should have known without asking.” Her hair was still loose, her feet bare despite the bone-deep chill. She looked painfully vulnerable. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he said quickly. “It was ridiculous, really. I was 16 when I left home, and the first thing I tried was spitting meat on sticks, which I’d probably read about in a ‘true story of most miraculous survival’ in one of the ladies’ journals my mother occasionally bought. It didn’t go as well as I probably hoped.” She was still looking down, but a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “It took me longer than I like to admit to think back to what I’d seen in the kitchens at home. I still had some money then, so I - Is something wrong?” She was squinting at her cup of tea. But her eyes rose to briefly meet his, and she shook her head. “No - I’m sorry. Go on.” “I should have saved some milk. Or sugar - I don’t know if you take sugar.” Another quirk at her lips. “Not half as much as my sister does.” But then it was gone, like shutters closed over her face. “It’s not that. I’ve just… never had it with the leaves still in it.” “Oh. Yes. You get used to drinking around them, I’ve found.” He added “strainer” to the mental list of things to save for. Maybe he would just start watering his ink as general practice. She took a tentative sip of tea. “It’s good. What kind is it?” “It’s rare. It’s called ‘whatever was left over at the tea shop when the new stock came in, sold as a mixed jumble to Mrs. Herrdrehl for her dry goods stall’. You’ll never taste exactly the same again.” She actually laughed at that, and he felt absurdly proud of himself. Breakfast finished and dishes washed- and wax paper crumpled and shoved in his pocket to be tossed in the first midden heap he passed - he said, “So, um… clothes.” She reddened slightly. “I’m fine in this. Really. I don’t feel cold much.” He resisted the urge to ask more about that - she wasn’t here as a research subject. And maybe he would have a chance to ask later. She was wearing a dark blue dress over a brown shirt and brown stockings - not as fine as what she probably wore at home, but still unlikely to last for a long time if worn repeatedly, a lesson he had learned quickly while wearing his own “practical” clothes from back in Geatland. They might not be silk and satin, but they were still designed with the mindset that accessible repair or replacement would be available. Clothes bought here were thicker cloth, rougher weave less inclined to unravel or tear when caught. He had never bought women’s clothing, of course, but assumed it was likely similar. And she would need some - living here, unfortunately, she would need some. But he didn’t know how to tell her that. It ashamed him, suddenly - all of it. This part of the city, the boarding house, his room - the squalor and clutter, the constant smell of smoke and old cooking and damp wood and mildewed bedding. She still had no real understanding of the world in which she had landed - the world in which he had invited her to land. But the realization would come for her, as it had for him. He would never forget the helpless tears that had come when he realized he would have to sell several cherished books, some of the few he had carried through many years of wandering, in order to pay his rent. In living this far down, there was no grace period, nor were there sympathetic landlords. He had sold his books, paid his due, and returned to that summer’s meager quarters to cry again. Yes, Elsa would realize - but if he could prevent it, it would never be so harsh as that. Even if he had to sell more books to make sure, he had been here long enough to not feel the loss quite as deeply. He would do what was necessary. “Why don’t we just go have a look?” he asked. “I mean, if you don’t mind, it’s up to you, but… there’s a pretty nice market square, not far from the docks, so there’s usually… a lot to look at.” He knew nothing about women’s clothing, much less what might appeal to her. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to stay locked up in here all the time.” He saw her shoulders hunch, just perceptibly, and realized what he’d said. But before he could apologize, her eyes - clear and blue and firm - met his. “Yes,” she said. “That would be fine - going out to look.” Resolve in her eyes - but there was a tremble in her voice. Once more, she bit her lip. She wore the cloak and gloves in which she had arrived - and even without her earlier admission, he might have suspected that wasn’t due to the December chill. Still, most of the skittishness of the day before was gone; in place was a mask: serene face, straight back, gloved hands folded before her. Among women hard-bitten early by poverty and desperation, clutching threadbare shawls with chilblained hands and usually surrounded by hordes of red-faced children, Elsa was going to stand out no matter what she did, pale and unblemished and imperious as she was. If it helped her to walk like a queen, he didn’t see that it was likely to make the situation any worse. The marketplace was packed, far more so than was usual mid-morning, and it was only when he saw the butcher’s sign, advertising holiday specials, that he realized Elsa had arrived only a few days before Christmas. She seemed as oblivious as he had been, but judging from the way her brows drew down, she was deliberately taking in as little as possible, in order to maintain control. King Agdar had written that even as a child, crowds had been difficult, and she had fled more than one social event as temperatures dropped and frost trickled out beneath her feet. “We don’t have to stay long,” Alarik said, leaning close to make himself heard over the chatter of shoppers and sellers alike, but careful not to touch. Elsa just nodded. She stayed close by his side as they ventured deeper. He went first to a stall where books were sold - and bought. He wandered for a bit, pretending to browse, hoping something would catch Elsa’s attention long enough for him to do what was necessary. She stopped by a shelf of gothic novels, looking around to make sure it was all right to do so before sliding one out to glance through the pages. When he was fairly certain she was absorbed - she was hardly blinking, her lips parted - he went to conduct his own business. He glanced back more than once; she was reading each time. But when he rejoined her, she said, “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have had to do that.” She was still looking down at the open book. “It’s all right,” he said. “It’s… necessary more often than you might think. And they’re usually still here when I have a little extra again.” “I can’t imagine why.” He burst out laughing, loudly enough to draw disapproving looks from several others. Well, let them - laughter caused no harm, and Elsa looked pleased with herself. Se glanced a last time at the page before her, then closed the book and returned it carefully to its place on the shelf. Alarik looked back at the bookseller, who nodded. They spent the new few hours trying to figure out buying her new clothes - Alarik had never bought clothes for anyone but himself, and Elsa had never bought clothes at all. He finally convinced her he didn’t mind paying for two new dresses - a lighter blue, a bit more expensive, but it was obvious she liked it, and a deep green - and a new bodice very similar to the old. “I’ll pay for them,” Elsa said repeatedly, something close to panic in her voice; she was clenching her gloved hands together at her chest. “Or… or Anna will. I’ll write to her, in your name.” “I don’t mind, it’s fine,” he said, but she was clearly not going to drop it, so he finally added, “You should write to Anna anyway - as you said, in my name.” But Elsa bit her lip and fell silent, and there were some walls she had built that he knew he could never, at least for the moment, get around. She was quiet and withdrawn on the walk back to his - their - little room, but once there, she untied the twine holding together her bundle of clothes, folded each item tight and neat, and placed them on the trunk at the end of the bed. She looked, he thought, very pleased. He was glad. 

The next few days were peaceful, if often more than a little bit awkward. He rarely did much besides work - he had no money for anything else - but it seemed uncouth to bury himself in books and notes when Elsa was there, quiet and uncertain and so very, very alone. But it was hard to tell how much engagement she wanted. Occasionally, she would participate in something almost like normal conversation, but those moments were rare - usually, she answered questions politely but succinctly, and was all but silent otherwise. After the single trip to the market, she also showed no inclination to go out again, though her usual place in the room became sitting on the edge of the bed, where she had a view out the little window to the street below. It took her little time to adjust to the schedules of the neighborhood, so that she saw the departures of the dock and factory workers at dawn, the return of some for lunch, and the appearance of street vendors with questionable meal-stuffs for all the workers trudging home in the frigid dusk. He watched her sometimes, then - he just couldn’t help it. Her eyes grew bright and her cheeks flushed, like a delighted child. For those few minutes, he caught a glimpse of an Elsa happy, carefree, part of a wider world. But he seemed incapable of finding a way to draw it out otherwise. He wasn’t sure how to phrase even his own activities - wanting her to know she was welcome to come out with him, but not wanting her to feel forced, he settled for just stating his intentions, though “I’m, uh… going to get lunch now” was still far from optimal. She usually just nodded. Then, one morning, she ventured a question from her usual perch by the window: “Where is everyone today?” He glanced out at the empty street, then realized: “Oh - it’s Christmas Eve. The factories are closed today and tomorrow.” “Christmas Eve?” She was still looking out the window, down at the cold, silent street. “I missed my birthday…” “When was your birthday?” “Last week.” And she lapsed once more into silence. He went out in the evening to buy dinner as well as things for the next day, when even the street vendors would be scarce. Money was running low - he’d need to take on tutoring again, come spring - but he bought what he needed, regardless. There were always more books to sell. Christmas morning came with bells and shouting in the streets, and Elsa almost smiling as she watched the neighborhood children - usually as dour and rough as their parents - laugh and toss balls of wrinkled paper and run deftly along the slick cobblestones. They ate well - sausages and lutefisk and cabbage, and he’d bought rice pudding for dessert. Elsa was quiet, but seemed happy enough, even laughing when she found the almond and he pulled from his pocket the tiny marzipan pig.    “Anna always won,” she said. “Even though she didn’t like marzipan.” “Do you?” “Yes.” But she broke the pig in half, so that he got some, too. He almost lost his nerve on the last thing, putting it off, wondering if it wouldn’t make sense just to sell it back, and hope to get even half of what he’d paid. The sky was growing dark when he finally said, “I, uh… I got you something. Just something small.” She took the paper-wrapped parcel in both hands, a strange, almost pensive expression in her eyes. “Thank you. I… I appreciate it very much.” She pulled the paper away with slow, careful hands, then was still for quite some time, staring down at the book’s cover. Then, to his surprise, she started to laugh - true, deep laughter that made her eyes water and her cheeks brighten and one hand rise quickly to cover her open mouth. He grinned - he couldn’t help it. Maybe she hated it, but regardless, she was laughing. She was happy. “I’m sorry,” she finally said, wiping her eyes with the back of one gloved hand. “It was very thoughtful. I just didn’t know you were paying that much attention when…” “When you were doing the same thing to me?” She nodded. She was still smiling. She put the book on the trunk, next to her spare clothes - all that she owned in the world, now. She looked at those things frequently, as if reassuring herself they were still there.

[naturepointstheway]

Frozen - Domestic Assassin (Crack AU) Masterpost

This is a Masterpost of all the fanfiction I’d written (all on Tumblr) based in @ultranos’ Domestic Assassin crack AU which was hilarious for a fairly good-sized group of us! And from what I”ve seen in my notifications, people are still enjoying and finding fics of mine in this AU even to this day, which is great! 

I’ve basically dug into my previous fanfiction pages and pulled them out year by year, so because it’ll be way too much work to try and arrange everything by title, I just went by year. At least Tumblr keeps the links when I copy and paste. 

Since there are so many, you’ll find them under the cut. Enjoy! 

Pre-2016

Air Mattress Prompt  

An exhausted Anna returns home from a hot night with Kristoff only to accidentally make her sister fly off the air mattress when she flops down on it for a sleep.

“Am I supposed to be alarmed by the moon tonight?” prompt 

Elsa is so exhausted she gets confused between the sun and moon apparently.

“Can we please stop fighting and talk about the koala in your room?” 

Elsa adopted a koala, much to Anna’s exasperation.

“Can you pull this fake cobweb across the door?” Halloween prompt 

Anna wants to play a prank on Elsa...

Cell Block Sniper (M - violence and strong language)

Yes. Yes. It’s a crossover. A crossover between “Cell Block Tango” song from Chicago and this AU.

“Do you realise what this means?” “That you’re a really bad shot?” 

Elsa is NOT having the best of time trying to instruct a new trainee.

Domestic Assassin AU prompt: Hans’ POV (pre-reveal) 

Hans has a visit from Elsa when he dumps Anna. 

“Don’t touch that!” (Healthcare writing prompt, Snow Sisters) 

Elsa was bound to fall out of a tree at some point and end up in hospital. Anna takes care of her. 

Elsa and Weselton prompt 

Elsa refuses to let Weselton in the door.

Eyes That Glisten 

Anna knows how to persuade Elsa to do whatever she wants. 

“God you’re such a grumpy bags in the morning aren’t you?” 

Elsa is not a happy camper after a long night where everything just goes wrong. “Holy shit. Most realistic Dementor costume ever.” Halloween prompt 

Turns out, Elsa just looks like that most of the time.

“I can’t help being a geek about my vital signs!” prompt (Elsarik) 

A crossover between another AU (Shardsverse) 

“I don’t think I should tell you what we’re dressed as.” (Halloween Prompt) 

Somebody think of the children! 

“I dropped my cookie :’(” 

Elsa cries when she drops her cookie. 

“I feel like a T-Rex” 

Anna is too lazy to just grab the goddamn stepladder and get the jam herself.

“I wish I could drive you out of my life with a sword!” (Hans and Anna, prompt) 

Anna is NOT a fan of Hans...

“Maybe you should go as an assassin. Oh wait, you already are one.” (Halloween prompt) 

Anna is a sarcastic little sister to Elsa.

“No one unfollows like Gaston!” 

Anna overhears Gaston boasting about how he unfollowed someone because of a disability. She is not happy.

Ruined Dinner Party

After an hour of waiting for her sister to come to the party, Anna finally spots her with “ketchup” all over her top. 

Part 2 of “Ruined Dinner Party”

Of course it wasn’t ketchup. Duh. Anna is NOT HAPPY.

Sleepyhead (drabble, Snow Sisters) 

Elsa, going to the kitchen for midnight munchies, spots Anna sprawled on a couch, textbooks all around her. 

“So. Many. Triangles. Help me here!” 

Anna, not being a maths-y person, gets frustrated with geometry, and Elsa offers to help. 

“So you’re going as yourself for Halloween.” Halloween prompt 

Elsa is not keen on dressing up as Halloween.

“Tell our parents my Tumblr URL and I swear I will make your death look like an accident” prompt. 

Elsa practically threatens Anna when the latter demands to explain her Tumblr URL (of course she quickly forgives her little sis.) 

“That mask is all kinds of creepy. I like it.” Halloween prompt 

Elsa practically shits herself when Anna scares her while wearing a terrifying mask. 

Things you said at 4am prompt 

Anna gets a call at 4am on her phone from Elsa, who accidentally sniped the wrong guy..

Those Poor Birds 

Elsa mistakes a pair of birds’ mating antics as fighting, much to Anna’s amusement.

“Wait, you’re yelling at a movie?” (Snow Sisters, writing prompt) 

Elsa is very confused to find that Anna’s yelling from the lounge is at a movie. Not at an invader.

“Was it really necessary to shoot my pumpkin carving?” (Halloween prompt) 

Anna is NOT happy when Elsa decides to use her pumpkin carving for shooting practice.

“What do you mean it’s a sunset…?” prompt 

Elsa wakes up only to find that it’s already after sunset, not sunrise.

“What the hell? You gave out alcoholic chocolate to trick-or-treating kids?!” (Halloween prompt) 

Anna discovers that her German chocolates had been opened by Elsa, who’d handed them out to kids. 

“Where did you leave the spare copy of that book?” (Elsarik DA!verse, prompt) 

Crossing over with another writer’s AU with her OC, Alarik. Elsa can’t find that one specific book she needs, and she’s sure Alarik has it. 

“You once asked me what I’d do if I had only one day left.” prompt 

Anna will most definitely NOT be spending that final day of her life with Hans.

“You did what?!” prompt (Elsa and Kristoff) 

Elsa does not appreciate Kristoff’s concern over her having WAY too many cats for one house.

“You mean a line segment.” prompt 

Elsa is a huge geometry nerd, even waiting in line for takeaways.

“You should go as an assassin. Oh wait. You already are one.” prompt 

Another one where Anna suggests Elsa goes as an assassin for Halloween, only to be all “oh wait, you are one.” 

2016

Accidental shooting

Elsa accidentally shoots someone she did not mean to shoot in a library’s basement. 

Amuse Me

Elsa’s having one of those blah days and Anna’s there with bad puns all ready to go.

“Bittersweet and Strange” (not based on a prompt)

Elsa explains exactly how she likes her coffee to Anna. Turns out Elsa is also a huge fan of marmite. 

“Can’t I at least take this baby koala home?”

Anna, no, you cannot take a koala home from Australia, no matter how cute it is.

Cat Gallery (not based on a prompt)

Kristoff discovers Elsa’s huge photo album of her cats. 

“Did you lose your main point…”

Anna hears something about money and bills and wait what now.

“Do nurses ever fall asleep on the night shift?”

Anna visits Elsa in hospital and inevitably someone has to wonder this. Elsa’s adorbs when she’s pouty and Anna can’t help but annoy her on this count.

Fight Me

One sister challenges another to a fun boxing game. 

“How did you get these bruises?”

A crossover with another writer’s canon OC, Alarik (”Elsarik”) where he asks how she got some bruises while on the job. 

“How many cats are in bed with you?”

Anna marvels that there are nine cats in bed with Elsa. 

“I don’t think you’re supposed to have the whole packet at once.”

Do not eat a whole bag of coffee. Do not.

I Have Found My People (not based on a prompt)

Elsa has discovered that certain Scandinavian countries drink the most coffee in the world and wants to migrate there right now.

“I know you don’t want this but it’s for your own good…”

Kristoff is rightly concerned when he finds that Elsa had thirty cups of coffee in 48 hours. Do not do this at home.

“I, uh, kinda dropped it in the water.”

Elsa calls Anna to tell her there’s an emergency: she dropped her wallet in the sea and all the fish now have her personal information. 

“I want a Venusian day…”

Elsa tries to explain to Anna why she would not want to live on Venus. Anna doesn’t give a fuck. More hours in the day what’s not to love about that?

Of Cat’s Paws and Adopting Stellar Systems (not based on a prompt)

Elsa is enthralled by a photo of the Cat’s Paw Nebula she has found on the laptop. 

Of Monkeying Around and Going Ape (not based on a prompt)

Anna comes home to discover that Elsa has adopted a monkey that had been neglected by its owner. Even Anna is almost (I said, ALMOST) tempted to keep the monkey but her common sense reigns. 

“Oh so you were in my bed this whole time?” (nsfw)

Dontcha hate when you’re in the middle of coitus and your goddamn cat has to interrupt you? (Elsarik, with another Frozen writer’s (@patricia-von-arandel) OC for Elsa)

“Once we start tickling, we can’t stop!” (nsfw)

Another steamy one with an old abandoned OC of mine (Jannike), where they find themselves having a quickie while the boss is away. 

Rubbish Day (not based on a prompt)

Anna is horrified to find a rubbish bag gone and trails of what suspiciously looks like blood leading outside. Turns out some meat thrown in there leaked inside.

“The best way to get rid of your ex…”

Anna didn’t think that Hans Westerguard would ever end up on Elsa’s targets to “take care of”. Until he does.

The One Time Elsa Caught Anna “Studying” (not based on a prompt)

Anna uses the mirror in the bathroom to practice distinguishing teeth for a medical exam. Elsa suggests alternatives. 

“What is this owl doing in our bathroom?”

Of course Elsa would adopt an owl and want to keep it in the bathroom. Of course.

“Who dances in the rain anyway?”

Elsa comes home to discover Anna dancing in the rain. 

“Why is there an otter in our kitchen?”

Anna comes home to find that Elsa has “adopted” an otter from a “client”. As you do.

“Why would you wish to be at a backpackers?”

Elsa and Alarik (Shards AU, Elsarik) decide to stay at a backpackers together for some private time. 

“Yes, yes the cold doesn’t bother you…”

Anna is not impressed with Elsa standing in the snow when she has a major cold.

2017

The Blood of White Men (not based on a prompt)

As Elsa’s favourite song goes, he had it comin’ all along. 

Is the Earth Broken? (not based on a prompt)

Elsa is confused about why the day she thought it was today...actually isn’t. She convinces herself the Earth has somehow broked. 

“It won’t be high tide you said…”

Elsa needs to learn that reading yesterday’s newspaper’s high tide times is not helpful. 

Kittens on Saturn (not based on a prompt)

Elsa hopes there’s actual giant kittens on Saturn after seeing a graphic manipulation on an astronomy news site.

Of Singing Humpback Whales and Rock Trolls

Kristoff visits Elsa in hospital while Anna’s busy with other things. It...does not go as expected. Poor Kristoff. 

“Proboscis Monkeys look ridiculous…”

Anna’s exasperation at Elsa rescuing a Proboscis monkey is still not so great that she can’t help but wonder what would happen if you honked their nose. Anna NO. 

“She’s going to kill you.”

Kristoff knows his days are numbered when he spills carrot juice all over Elsa’s brand new rifle. Uh oh.

“There’s a perfectly good reason for all these kittens.”

Turns out Elsa decided to adopt some kittens left on the side of the road when they’re already over-run with cats.

“This is extreme, even for you.”

Elsa is so addicted to her coffee she’s begun pouring them into wine bottles, as you do.

2018

Elsa brings home a parrot 

Anna discovers that Elsa has “rescued” a very large, very loud parrot from one of her, ahem, “clients”.

Elsa’s Back Up Cat, Mushu 

Anna discovers one of the cats apparently reading a book, and much to her consternation, Elsa explains he’s for back up.

“Oh what a circus!” photo prompt 

Anna takes her still-bewildered-after-five-coffees sister to the circus. This may or may not turn out to be a great idea.

[bepoets]

Character thing: Alarik

Aaahhh my FAVORITE GOOSE!!! Thank you Anon! Why I like them: Honestly? Because he makes Elsa happy. Yes, I love that he’s a giant nerd and all that good stuff. But most of all I just want Elsa to be happy and they just CLICK and work well together as a team and he makes her happy. Which is the most important thing. Why I don’t like them: When he’s a know it all jerk butt trying to show off his knowledge thinking he knows more about magic than Elsa WHO HAS MAGIC ABILITIES in the beginning of Shards. I love you Alarik, but come on buddy read the room. Favorite Episode/Scene/Season/Movie: okay so for fanfiction I guess this means scene or like fic? And my favorite fic with Alarik is Sweet Joy Befall Thee by @shardsofarendelle (duh). Forever and always. I used to be able to recite PASSAGES from that story from pure memory, but I’ve lost my touch so I need to read it again. Favorite scene though is in Boarding House AU where he’s thinking about sending Elsa elsewhere, but realizes he doesn’t know if he HIMSELF could handle not being around her. Wow someone is smitten ya goober. Favorite Line: Okay, I’m basing this off of Trish’s knowledge, because she wrote this on the back of the artwork she sent me. “What you chose to do, is miraculous” which I BELIEVE she said was from a Twelve Day’s of Elsarik Fic many years ago. I treasure that quote with me always. Favorite outfit: Any outfit he’s wearing so long as his hair is a complete and utter mess is my favorite. OTP: ELSARIK ELSARIK ELSARIK!!! ELSA AND ALARIK!!!!BROTP: Anna and Alarik because red head bros. But also I love Alarik and Kristoff interacting because they’re so fucking awkward and just DO NOT CLICK AT ALL. Head Canon: I don’t know if this is canon or head canon or not but I am in LOVE with @couragedontdesertme ‘s head canon about how Alarik didn’t say “I love you” until he proposed to Elsa. Unpopular Opinion: Um idk if this is unpopular or controversial but...he is the only male I will accept being paired with Elsa. A Wish: More interaction between Alarik and Kristoff so I can die from second hand embarrassment from their social ineptitude. And that he makes Elsa happy for as long as they both live. Which is forever because they’re immortal obviously. An Oh-God-Please-Don’t-Ever-Happen: Don’t die. Stay alive forever. (I can’t think of a serious one I’m sticking with that)Five Words to Best Describe Them: 1)Goose, 2)Intelligent, 3)Understanding (for the most part he knows when to leave Elsa alone and not push her, which is pretty understanding I think.) 4)Loving 5)Scholar (I know I already said intelligent but being a scholar just IS Alarik it was a necessary inclusion.) My Nickname for Them: Goose, Nerd, Dork, mostly Goose and adding any appropriate adjective prior to the word Goose is my go to. Side note: I still don’t really know if I’m pronouncing his name or any of the Shardsverse characters names correctly.

[insectoid5]

Aaahh, this is so sweet!!

So Trish and I wrote about you and Elsa falling in Love in Shanghai once.... It’s got lots of Chinese street food, pretty gardens, proposals on the Great Wall of China, Disneyland Shanghai, and hugs. SO MANY HUGS. I could try and find some of it SOMEWHERE if it’ll lessen the trauma from rereading Shieldmaiden!! (Seriously Alarik pls don’t read it again WE NEED A HAPPY GOOSE)

That would make me feel a lot better, thanks! :D

[frozenprocedural]

Bless this Happiness we’ve Found

My first entry for Elsarik week 2020! Alarik, of course, belongs to @patricia-von-arundel. Neils and Leisel belong to @couragedontdesertme.

A little background- Duluth is where I went to college, and yes, the Blue Heron is real- the University owns it. And if you’ve never seen a 1,000 foot ship go in or out of harbor, you’re missing out. It’s AMAZING.

Anyway, now for the Elsarik!

Bless this Happiness we’ve Found 

Rating: K

Alarik stood on the Blue Heron's stern, watching the twin piers of the harbor grow smaller and smaller until they faded from sight, and he could only see the great expanse of water in all directions. 

The melancholy weight in his chest was new. On previous excursions, he'd either be in the lab, frantically preparing his research, or on the bow of the boat, looking ahead, always ahead. He loved his trips aboard the vessel, reveled in the chance to work in the field, away from the stuffiness of the classroom and lecture hall. Out on the water, setting up equipment, getting samples, gleaning new information- once that had been all he'd wanted. If he could, Alarik would have spent all his days aboard the vessel.

Until Elsa came along.

……….

Alarik looked down at the well-worn duffel, packed neatly and efficiently- the byproducts of his numerous excursions. He played with the stiff leather handles, struggling to tamp down the uneasy burn in his gut. Soft, familiar footsteps brought his attention to the door, where Elsa stood, something clasped in her hands. She gave him her familiar half-smile, one side of her mouth rising higher than the other, before stepping in and handing him the object.

It was a small, framed photograph of the two of them in Enger Tower- Anna had been there that day and captured a cherished moment- Alarik, an arm around Elsa's shoulder, had his head thrown back in laughter. Elsa's hand was covering her mouth, and even with the photograph's small size, Alarik could make out the mirth held on her eyes.

"I had it printed on waterproof paper, and the frame is designed to be shatterproof and leak-resistant. It should do just fine on the trip."

Alarik looked up, meeting Elsa's eyes. "Elsa, I don't have to go, I don't want to go. I've been on plenty of trips, they can go without…"

Elsa closed the distance between them, bringing her lips to his. 

………

Alarik carefully, reverently, lifted the frame from his duffle and tucked it into a small shelf above his bunk. This trip only had two other researchers besides himself- Neils and Leisel- as well as a crew of four, so he did not have to share a bunk with anyone else. 

For that, he was grateful. 

As Alarik continued unpacking his belongings, his fingers brushed against a small, unfamiliar object of hard plastic. Frowning, he pulled it out, revealing a USB drive wrapped in paper. He pulled the paper free to find a note written in familiar handwriting 

Just for those times when you need cheering up. See you in 2 weeks.

-Anna

Intrigued, Alarik pulled out his laptop, and as soon as it booted up, he plugged in the drive, prompting the name "Operation Cheer Alarik" to show up on his screen. The drive contained only one file- a video clip with no thumbnail. He opened it, and laughed when the video began rolling, his memory going back to that day.

……………

Alarik and Elsa strode through the aisles of the grocery store, talking about anything that came to mind, as they were wont to do- a weekly ritual many would find mundane, but they viewed as a chance to simply enjoy one another's presence.

As they stopped to peruse the seafood selection, a familiar pop rhythm began to play through the story's speakers.

"I stay out too late

Got nothing in my brain

That's what people say…"

A slow grin made its way across Alarik’s face, and he lifted an eyebrow at Elsa, wiggling his hips.

"Alarik… what…" Realization dawned on Elsa's face, and she stepped back, shaking her head.

"Alarik Geatland, absolutely not. We. Are. In. Public." 

"But it's Taylor Swift, darling! I just have to! I keep moving, can't stop, won't grooving, it's like I've got this music in my mind saying it's gonna be alright!" He sang, jerking his hips back and forth and shaking his shoulders.

Elsa groaned and swatted at his hand when he extended it to her, pinching the bridge of her nose while he continued to sing and dance around her, paying no mind to the small crowd gathered around them with their phones out until a student called out, "Yeah, shake it, Dr. G!"

"Don't encourage him!" Elsa cried. Alarik put more into his movements, shaking and gyrating with his wide grin, singing with gusto. Several people in the group joined him, belting out the chorus as they clapped and cheered at his performance. Alarik took an opportunity to spin around, shaking his rear at Elsa, who buried her face in her hands with another groan (although he would have sworn he caught her peeking between her fingers). As the song came to an end, Alarik swung around once more and gave an elaborate bow as the crowd broke into applause and whoops. As Alarik straightened back up, Elsa finally pulled her hand away from her face with a sigh, raising an eyebrow.

“Are you quite done?” 

If Alarik didn’t know Elsa any better, he might have thought that Elsa was angry. As it was, the small hint of a smile forming and the twinkle in her eyes told him that despite everything, she’d found his little show amusing. 

She was far less amused when the videos showed up on YouTube the next day.

………

Alarik shut the lid of his laptop and leaned back with a smile. He glanced back at the photograph and brushed a finger over Elsa's image. He still missed her, but the video- bless Anna's heart- had eased some of the ache. 

"Doing alright there, Dr. G?" Leisel leaned against the doorway in her usual easy manner. 

He nodded. "I… I am now. Thanks Leisel."

She jerked her head upwards. "Come on up. Yelena says we're about 5 minutes from the first drop point, and you hate missing those." 

Alarik glanced once more at the photograph, then stood and followed her out.

He would be alright.

………

Two Weeks Later

The Blue Heron’s high-pitched horn sounded- one long, two short, and the lift bridge responded in kind, bringing a smile to Alarik’s face.

Home. They were home.  

As the Blue Heron glided between the two piers, Alarik knew that the museum's loudspeaker giving information on the boat would have drawn at least a small crowd from Canal Park, but he paid them no mind. Instead, he kept his eyes trained on the south pier, nearly empty of pedestrians until…

A flash of blonde hair- there she was. Standing at the foot of the bridge, watching their arrival, one hand lifted in greeting, and if Alarik squinted, he could make out the small, special smile that made his every day. 

Elsa, just as she promised, was seeing him home.

[patricia-von-arundel]

My own:

Shardsverse (including Frozen: A Dark Retelling)

Boarding House AU

The Campaign!verse

Your Name!AU (Follow the String)

Is-Files

(There were others, but I'd call those the main ones.)

What are all the AUs in the Frozen fandom?

Oh my gosh I have no idea, someone probably did a list though

[patricia-von-arundel]

The Boarding House AU: Elsa & Romance Novels (I)

Rating: T

Summary: Shardsverse AU. After escaping a death sentence, and forced to come to terms with the idea that she can never return to Arendelle nor see Anna again, Elsa finds herself in the unexpected position of sharing a room with a poverty-stricken young scholar of magic…

Part I: Elsa & Alarik | Part II: Elsa & Christmas

Elsa tried to enjoy the book Alarik had given her for Christmas. She tried very hard, particularly as she appreciated the distraction both the book and the effort gave to her. She read the whole thing, in the days following the holiday, when he returned to work at the university, leaving her alone - to stew, or to wander, or to read. He did make it clear - again - that he didn’t want her to feel trapped there, a prisoner still, her whole world within four walls. “Just say on the busier streets, and keep any money close. Down here… well, it’s not as if people can send their servants to do the shopping. There will be other people like… like you.” Would there be? She was afraid, yes, but not so overcome by it that she was oblivious to his own rather obvious fear and uncertainty. She did wonder, more than once, if he regretted agreeing to let her come here, but how could she ask if that was the case? She couldn’t, of course. He had mentioned once speaking to friends about finding a better place for her, but nothing further had been said. Was that to be the rest of her life, then? Forever moved from place to place, like a pawn on a chessboard, forever hiding, forever in exile? She didn’t know. She didn’t know anything - not anymore. Less than half a year since a crown had been placed on her head, and she was in the slums of a foreign city without a skilling to her name. In such a life, how could anyone claim to know anything? Alarik seemed almost relieved to be going back to the university, and she couldn’t blame him - she couldn’t possibly be good company. Still, he promised to be back as early as he could, and she was free to leave, and he had a few skillings, in the box under the window, if she wanted to get something eat or leaves for tea or - “It’s fine,” Elsa said - words that had become almost like a mantra, attempting to reassure herself as much as him. Nothing was fine. She watched from the window as he walked away down the cobbled street, bent against the wind, hands buried deep in the pockets of his worn coat, his too-long hair flopping against the crown of his head. She could feel, clearly, the snow promised by day’s end, the heaviness in the air, filling her, lungs and heart and veins, speaking to its kin within her. At least he didn’t have to worry about her needing to keep a fire going all day, she thought. More light might have been nice, but she didn’t want to use the very limited supply of oil for the lamp, either. She would make do with the dreary sun that made it in through the thick, dusty panes of the window. She stared out, long after he had disappeared - there was something soothing about watching the world out there, safely removed from it but a spectator nonetheless. People passed occasionally - women with folded sacks or baskets, heading to the marketplace; two scrawny boys leading an even scrawnier goat by a fraying length of rope. The snow began to fall mid-morning, and after, the streets were all but empty. With snow, and the tiny room empty and silent around her, she couldn’t prevent her thoughts returning to Arendelle - to all the things she had tried so hard not to dwell on, these last few days. How long had it been? How long since she left Anna? She couldn’t remember. Anna was alone - married and safe, yes, but was that enough to see to her happiness? What would happen if anyone - Princes Hans - found out that she had helped Elsa escape? For that matter, what had happened after her escape? She didn’t know. She had been too focused on herself to find out. Anna might be executed in her place - conspiracy, treason, any number of charges brought against her by those seeking improving in their own fortunes. Who would defend her? To whom could she turn, with her only living family fled? Elsa had just left her - selfish, heartless creature that she was. She looked away from the window - and realized snow was now falling inside as well as out. She pushed up from the bed - quick, furtive movement; backed to the corner, drawing her hands up to her chest. “No.” Her breath coming in rapid, frantic bursts. “No, no, no…” Her father’s voice: “Conceal it, Elsa.” “Don’t feel.” Tucking her hands away, bending over them, desperate. “Don’t feel.” This wasn’t her place. This was Alarik’s place - everything he had in the world. She had to go. Get herself under control. She fled - all but blind to the hallway, the rickety steps, the icy cobbles and their thin coating of snow. How far she ran, she did not know; she ran until, still malnourished and weak from months in a dungeon cell, she tripped over a board hidden by the snow and fell hard to the street, gasping at the pain that reverberated up through her knees, the skinned palms of her hands. And there she remained, trembling and gulping for breath, for another uncertain, indefinite time. She didn’t think she had enough strength left to stand, much less continue to run. She did what Alarik had done, to help calm her that first day she had arrived: she took deep, audible breaths, focusing on the movement of her chest, the pleasant chill of the air as she drew it deep within her. Gradually, her heart slowed, the terrific panic abated, and she could push herself to a sit, her back against the anonymous brick wall behind her, hugging her knees to her chest. She felt dizzy and weak - but once more in control of her own faculties. There was someone else, across the street, huddled, much as she was, but within the confines of a ragged blanket, watching her with dark, wary eyes - and she suddenly realized how vulnerable she truly was here. This wasn’t the wilds of Arendelle, and she had far more to fear from people than from anything in the forest. The last few months in a cell had shown her that truth. She got to her feet, trying not to look as unsteady as she felt. She held her head high - and her arms crossed tightly across her chest. One of her gloves had torn as she fell. Her dress had not; Alarik had been right that the tougher cloth of cheap fabric was a good idea. Her first few steps were wobbly, but she managed to stay up, though her head was swimming and spots danced before her eyes. She had no idea how to get back to Alarik’s boarding house - or even to the market square, from which she might be able to retrace the way they had gone before. She knew she hadn’t gone far - she was still surrounded by ancient, crumbling, looming buildings - but that was little help when she nonetheless could not remember the way “not far” had taken her. “Don’t panic,” she whispered. “Do not panic.” Slightly reassuring - so she tried to convince herself - was the lightness of the snow, the brisk breeze that was nonetheless far from a frigid gale. She had kept a measure of control - that, or her overall weakness impacted her powers as well. Would Alarik know? She knew what he studied - but he had never mentioned her magic, nor asked her any questions. Would he mind if she asked him questions? She had to find her way back to him, first. At the corner, she stopped and tried to get her bearings, some part of her hoping her mind would magically have taken note of where her panicked flight had taken her. But all she saw was dirty stone, grey sky, unbroken scrim of fresh-fallen snow. She tucked her hands more deeply under her arms, and looked back the way she had come, where her footprints were already filling in white. Should she go on, risk getting even more lost while seeking something familiar? Or should she knock on a door and ask for help - was it permissible to knock on a stranger’s door? She didn’t know. Nor did she know how long she stood there on the corner, hunched and uncertain. She couldn’t stay there forever - but how could she know where to go? Her heart was speeding up again, deep breaths becoming more difficult, and though it had not yet escaped, she could feel the cold pulsing just beneath the thin veneer of her skin. “Madame?” A deep, commanding voice, with just a trace of an unfamiliar accent. “Are you in need of assistance?” Elsa whirled, already sinking back against the rough wall behind her, breath hitching. The man was as large as his voice, and made even larger by the layers he wore, the outer of which was a coat that made him look rather like a clean-shaven bear, with matching fuzzy hat. But his eyes, when she found them, were deep and brown and kind. There was such genuine concern in them that her breath caught once more. She remained in her defensive hunch - but the fear that she would have to flee again was already fading. “Has someone hurt you?” the man asked - and now she could find kindness there, too, among the pleasant tone of the accent, still impossible to place. “I- no. Why…?” He smiled. “You have no coat. Though you do not appear cold - I envy you, I confess. I fear I find it cold here even in the midst of summer, though I have been here 15 years now.” She didn’t know what to say - it was like all the well-rehearsed rules of polite conversation had abandoned her when she left her throne in Arendelle. She just nodded. “Still,” the man said, as if she had responded in some normal fashion, “and I do not mean to pry, but you seem… burdened?” Elsa bit her lip. “I.. I’m… lost. I don’t know how to get ho-… to where I’m staying.” “You are new to the city?” There was no judgement in his voice, only compassion, and she felt it wash over her: relief, and comfort, and… trust? “Yes. I’m… I’m staying with… a friend. Dr. Alarik Geatland.” In this city of thousands, how would he know the name? But it didn’t matter - it was all she had. The man’s brow drew down in clear dismay. “We are not acquainted, I’m afraid. Do you perhaps have an address for his residence?” How could she not know that? His address? She was a fool. “I’m… I haven’t been here long, and…” She trailed off, embarrassed, but the man just nodded. He seemed to think hard. “A doctor - at the hospital?” “Oh - no. He’s a scholar. At the… the university.” The man grinned now, wide and triumphant. “Ah! A scholar.” He nodded again. “Yes - I know the university!” Elsa almost cried, relief so great struck her then. “Can you tell me the way?” “Better - I’ll show you!” “Oh, no, you don’t-” But he had already turned. “It’s this way, not far. But be careful, the road is very slippery.” “I… I will be.” She followed him - because what choice did she have? She could think of no other way, short of her earlier thoughts of wandering or knocking on a stranger’s door. This way was far easier, though she felt very awkward, following along behind this large, friendly man like a duckling. “My brother went to a university,” the man said, “but I chose adventure. I took a place on a trading ship, and five years later, I was captain of my own! But once on a visit to my family, I met Lilah, the most beautiful, wonderful woman on all the earth. But she is wise and practical - she would not marry me until I could provide for her, on land. So I came here, and set up my business, and now, Lilah has given me five children, as beautiful as she is.” He didn’t not look to Elsa for responses, and for that, she was grateful. He prattled on as they walked, apparently intending to share as much of his life story as the journey allowed. She didn’t even know his name. She half-listened, but mostly focused on trying to pay attention, now, to the way they went. She had never considered how similar streets could look to one another. Aside from her time spent here, she had gone into the city in Arendelle… maybe twice a year, until she was eight? Certainly not often, and never by herself. The streets had grown finer - they were walking now among large, clean, free-standing residences, many with small gardens or orchards, and bristly fences and gates protecting them. Elsa couldn’t help but imagine what was inside: solid walls, and clean floors, and dustless surfaces, and the smells of fresh linen and dry air from large, open windows and high ceilings. And a place to be alone, and protected. But she reminded herself, forcefully, of the dungeon cell beneath the castle, and the sick dread of no escape. “This is better,” she muttered. “Did you speak, madame?” “Oh - no. I’m sorry.” “We are almost there, and-” “Elsa?” Alarik’s voice - he was across the street and so far away she could only recognize him by the brightness of his hair, but as soon as she looked up, he started running. “This is your doctor?” her guide asked as Alarik reached them, red-faced and gasping for breath. “Yes,” Elsa said, “and I-” But the man bowed deeply then, even doffing his hat, and for a moment, she found herself confused about both who and where she was. “Then I leave you to him with good wishes. I have left my eldest daughter in charge of my wares, and I cannot allow this for too long, or people will know how unnecessary I am in the face of her brilliance.” He straightened, smiling broadly. “But perhaps we shall meet again? Until then, alas, I must bid you a good day, madame.” And before she could even say thank you, he turned and was gone as quickly as he seemed to have appeared. Alarik, finally catching his breath sufficiently to speak, said, “Who was that?” “I don’t know.” A pause - and she looked at him, and was surprised to see what looked like anger in his eyes. “You don’t know? Elsa you can’t just… trust people. People you know nothing about!” She stared at him - for perhaps longer than was necessary - eyebrows raised and lips tight. “Like you?” He looked appropriately abashed - his cheeks flushing even brighter, and his mouth opening and closing several times before he was finally able to speak. “Not like me. I’m not… You know my name, if someone asks! You’ll get hurt, Elsa, you can’t-” The irritation flared to anger. “I can’t?” He sighed. “You shouldn’t.” She said nothing. She just stared at him. And finally, he huffed another sigh, raised gloved hands and let them fall at his sides. “Fine. Just… remember you can’t trust everybody.” “That’s easy enough.” She tucked her own hands back under her arms - last time she’d gotten angry, only a lucky accident had prevented her striking Anna, once again, with magic. “Considering that I don’t trust anybody.” “Not even me?” She didn’t know what to say. She looked away, down at the layer of unbroken snow, marred only by the remains of their footsteps - no more was falling, but the day was still grey and overcast and cold. His third sigh was of resigned acceptance. “Let’s go home?” She nodded. She still couldn’t meet his gaze, but she felt it upon her. They walked most of the way back in silence. She couldn’t decide how she was feeling - recalcitrant? Misunderstood? - but it was uncomfortable, whatever it was, and so she kept her arms tightly crossed, her eyes cast down, following him and very aware, once more, of just how far she was from home. More people were out, now that the snow had stopped, and she was sure they were all staring at her - the strange, hunched young woman wandering streets not her own, no coat or scarf or hat, an anomaly… or a monster? Conceal, don’t feel. “Were you trying to find me?” Alarik finally asked. She risked a glance up, but he was looking pointedly ahead. They had to be nearing his home - the streets had again narrowed to caverns beneath crumbling, leaning buildings. She could smell midden and waste - human and otherwise - even in the frigid air, and could hear chickens down one of the narrow alleys, behind the rows of houses. “Yes,” she said quickly. “I… lost my way.” “You went out?” “I…” She wasn’t sure, at that moment, if she wanted to tell him the truth of what had happened. “I was… worried about Anna.” “You were…” And now he did look at her, as it hit: “Oh. Oh. Of course… oh god, I’m an idiot - I meant to tell you. Anna’s fine. I saw the newspapers, just a couple of days before you arrived. She’s been crowned. Her husband has been named prince consort.” The relief that washed over her was breathtaking - she released a hand to press it hard against her chest, over her pounding heart. “Elsa?” “I’m fine. It’s… I’m fine.” She didn’t have to work as hard to make herself smile as she might have anticipated. But she had to put a hand to the decaying wall as they climbed the stairs to his room, afraid she would not be able to keep her balance. Anna was safe. That was all that mattered, all that would ever matter. Her ebullience lasted until he opened the door to his room, and she saw the snow - not a lot, but enough, and mostly unmelted; the room was hardly warmer than it was outside. Elsa stopped dead - then, when she saw Alarik’s shoulders slump, had to resist mightily the urge, again, to run. She twisted her hands together. The gloves were on, Anna was safe. She could control it. He turned to her, clearly dismayed, and she recoiled. “Sorry, I’m sorry, I-” “I shouldn’t have left you,” he said. Her mouth closed. She folded her arms once more. She did not speak - she had no idea what to say. He pushed his hair, damp and limp with melted snow, out of his eyes, looking down, defeated. “My apologies. Elsa. I shouldn’t have gone so soon.” She looked, again, at the mess she had made - and felt a wave of homesickness wash over her. How many tens, hundreds of times had this happened in her childhood? With the reduced staff, it was usually Gerda - who had always known Elsa’s secret - who came to clean up the mess. She came with rags and bucket and broom - but also hot chocolate. She always brought Elsa hot chocolate, but would never explain why she thought Elsa deserved it, despite her shameful behavior. She never let Elsa help, either, telling her there was a rigorous training required to work in the castle, and Elsa would have to ask her father if she could join the staff. That sometimes - not always, but sometimes - made Elsa smile. “I’ll clean it up,” she said. “No,” Alarik said quickly. “I can do it, it’s fine.” Her words reflected back at her. Was it fine? She didn’t know. He was on his knees, towels in hand, and she stood in the doorway, uncertain and out of place once more. He was shivering, despite the exertion. She wondered if the university had fireplaces. “Wait.” The thought had suddenly hit her. “Are you supposed to be at the university?” He paused momentarily, but didn’t look up. “I’m going back. I was worried you wouldn’t go out to get lunch, so I thought I’d come back. Just to make sure… you were all right.” “Oh. Thank you.” He gave a sort of embarrassed half-nod, still not looking at her. “I don’t want you to worry about me,” she finally said. “I’m not sure I have any choice.” The tone was gentle, but still the words stung. He hadn’t asked for this, any more than she had. So all she said was, “I know.” He had brought things to eat from the university - “They sometimes bring in food around holidays” - and they had open-faced sandwiches in relative silence, sitting, as always, on the floor. Alarik looked broody and displeased, and Elsa didn’t want to make it any worse - worse than she already had. She wanted to tell him two meals a day would be fine, but what if he then felt like he had to skip meals, too? “I’m sorry,” she finally said - an apology for today, and for everything. He smiled - and she didn’t think it was entirely forced. “You’re better company than I’d have in the hall.” She tried her best to smile back. And after he left - promising to bring home dinner, and apologies if he was late - she picked up the book he had given her for Christmas, determined to keep herself occupied. She shouldn’t create more fuss than she already had. She sat on the bed, where she could see out the window - and where there was, perhaps, just a little more light. She crossed her legs, opening the book across them, so that it rested comfortably across her skirt. Then, she read. It was an absolutely absurd story, all about a beautiful young woman who had been caught up, alongside her husband, in the French Revolution. After the war was over, Napoleon now ruling France, they decided to travel - for reasons unclear to Elsa - to England, where the beautiful young woman, wandering through the ruins of a castle, inexplicably found herself sent back in time to the Hundred Years’ War, where of course the English thought she was a French spy. She there got to know a handsome young outlaw, hoping to clear his name fighting for the king. By the time she reached the contrived, inevitable marriage between the beautiful young woman and the handsome young outlaw, she was hardly aware of her own derisory snort - because equally, her mind was absorbed.

[frozenprocedural]

“I know hurts, but you have to stay awake, okay?” Elsarik? :D

This... this one got long. Of course, I have to have all the angst happen to poor Alarik. Sorry, buddy.

Alarik, of course, belongs to @patricia-von-arundel. @couragedontdesertme gets the blame for all the damned promts.

This happens in my Beowulf! AU. Rating is T, some mentions of blood.

Stay Awake

They had no warning. 

Alarik and Beowulf were crossing the plains, returning to the forest after meeting a supply wagon as the sun dipped low in the sky. What he'd assumed to be another boulder dotting the landscape rose suddenly and began lumbering towards them.

Bear!

Its mangy coat hung loose on its frame, and Alarik could see its ribs. It was clearly starving, and its beady eyes were fixed on Beowulf, who pressed against Alarik's leg, her own eyes wide and white-rimmed in terror. 

"Make yourself big. Big and noisy." Alarik muttered Honeymaren's advice, but his body refused to move any closer to the massive beast. He tried to force himself to step forward, to make some sound. 

The bear broke into a gallop, and fear overran sense.

Alarik dropped his parcel and scooped Beowulf up, sprinting down the path, his mind screaming at him to run, to escape, the heavy footfalls of the bear closing in with each stride. 

He made it to the four monoliths when a paw struck his back, knocking his head against one of the stones. Pain exploded through his skull as bursts of light obscured his vision, and hot blood ran into his eyes. He had just enough sense to tuck Beowulf close to his body and roll into a ball.

A roar, and lancing pain shot across his back as the bear's claws dug in. Alarik would have screamed, but the blow drove the air from his lungs, reducing the sound to a whimpering gasp. He clutched Beowulf close, his ears assaulted with a cacophony of her terrified bawling and the bear's enraged roars. 

Another strike, and another, his back aflame. Alarik could feel his strength sapping away as rivers of blood streamed down his back, his hold on Beowulf slipping. He didn't want to let go, didn't want to lose the calf that had brought him and Elsa together, but his arms would no longer cooperate. 

Another roar- but this one was different, familiar. Heat at his back, and the raking claws were gone. He heard a panicked sound from the bear, followed by its clear retreat. 

"Bruni…"

Bruni scurried up to Alarik's face, his back still pink, eyes wide. He peeped, nudging Alarik's cheek. Then his head shot up. 

"ALARIK!"

…………

Elsa didn't think much of Alarik going to meet the supply wagon- it was a routine visit, and a path he'd taken many times before. 

Then Bruni flooded her mind with panicked images.

Bear-big-hungry, Alarik-no-fire-hair-friend, blood-red-hot-badbadbad. 

Elsa had to stop in the middle of the path, clutching her head in her hands as she fought to make sense of the cacophony of emotions and images Bruni conveyed. Elsa was vaguely aware of several Northuldra approaching her with concern. She shook her head, waving them off. 

Then she realized what Bruni was trying to convey. 

"NØKK!"

The water in the stream beside the path exploded at her scream, and Nøkk erupted forth with a roar. Elsa was at their side in seconds, pressing her palms into them and releasing the magic roiling just below the surface of her skin. Once the ice covered Nøkk's body, she swung astride. 

"The monoliths, Nøkk, hurry!"

Nøkk dropped their head and surged forward, far outpacing any mortal horse. What would have taken ten minutes on foot took Nøkk less than a minute to cover. When the standing stones came into view, Nøkk reared and screamed, and Elsa was greeted with a horrific sight. 

Illuminated as the scene was with Bruni's flames, no detail was spared. Alarik lay still on the ground, curled around a trembling Beowulf. Bruni stood by his head, nudging him with his nose. Alarik's back was torn to shreds, ribbons of flesh hanging down and rivulets of blood streaming to the ground. He made no movement, gave no signs of life.

"ALARIK!"

The scream that left Elsa was harsh, animalistic. She leapt from Nøkk's back, rushing to his side and pressing her fingers to his neck. Up close, she could see he had a gash on his head, and there was blood on one of the monoliths. Beowulf squirmed free and jammed into Elsa's side, bawling. 

Alarik groaned, a watery, weak sound, and his eyelids parted. Elsa nearly sobbed with relief- he was alive.

For now. 

"Det är okej... mamma...gråt inte…" Alarik's eyes were glazed and unfocused, and while Elsa spoke little Swedish, she recognized that he spoke to his mother. He blinked, and his eyes began to close.

"Stay awake, Alarik! I know it hurts, but you have to stay awake, okay? I'm going to get you back to the village. You're going to be alright, just stay awake." Elsa spread her fingers and loosed a thin coating of ice across Alarik's back to stem the bleeding. 

If Alarik heard her, he gave no indication. His head dropped, and his breathing grew shallow. Next to him, Bruni whined and patted Alarik's cheek with his paw. 

"Try to keep him awake, Bruni." Elsa let out another burst of ice, creating a rough sledge directly beneath her, Alarik and Beowulf. Glimmering strands wrapped about Nøkk's body, and at Elsa's nod, they took off, galloping back to the village.

Elsa wrapped her arms around Alarik and Beowulf, rested her forehead against Alarik's, and quietly begged him to live.

……………

"I am so sorry, Lady Geatland, but there is nothing left that I can do, short of ending his pain now. Otherwise, you will simply have to make him as comfortable as possible and wait."

A broken cry could be heard from the hallway, and Alarik struggled to rise from his bed.

It's alright... Mama...don't cry...

But his body felt as if it were made of lead; the mere task of keeping his eyes open taxed the rest of his strength. 

"Stay awake, Alarik! I know it hurts, but you have to stay awake, okay? I'm going to get you back to the village. You're going to be alright, just stay awake."

Village? What village? He was already in his bedroom- why would he need to go to a village? 

Cold spread across his back, and he struggled to open his eyes. The scene before him swam, colors shifting, changing from the stone walls of his manor bedroom to the multitudinous shades of green of a forest. A beautiful voice, soft, yet insistent, begged him to hold on, to live. Not his mother's voice, but one just as beloved. 

Elsa?

He wanted to call her name, ask her what was happening, but his voice would not work. He felt as if he were floating, incorporeal, his tether to the world weakening. In some part of his dazed mind he could recall a bear- snarling maw and slashing claws laying open his flesh as easily as a sharp knife skinned prey. 

Something jostled him, and he slipped back into his bedroom, staring at the ceiling, sweat clinging to his skin as the fever within raged unchecked. Pain everywhere, each breath made it feel as if glass shards tore at his insides.

Soft footfalls- Mama's- and he heard the soft splash of water. She wiped his forehead with the wet cloth, then his face and neck, but the relief it provided was temporary. 

"Mama, I don't want to d…" his throat closed on the word 'die'. Mama's sharp intake of breath made him wish he'd never spoken. She dropped the cloth and took his hand in hers.

"Shhhhh, shhhh, now Alarik. You will not die. You will fight, and you will live." Her words were firm, unyielding.

Pain flared across his back, and he arched, crying out. The scene changed again, and he was lying on his stomach, his back aflame. Someone took his hands, squeezing them.

"Stay with me, Alarik, stay with me." 

Who spoke? His mother, or Elsa? He blinked, and could just make out a figure in front of him, one cool hand lifting to smooth his hair. 

Another flare of pain, and it became too much. Darkness surged up to meet him, and Alarik gratefully surrendered to it.

………………

At first, it was easy for Elsa to keep her mind occupied. 

When Nøkk stopped at the healer's lavvu, Ráfi was already waiting, helping Elsa carry Alarik inside. Once he was prone on one of the cots, Elsa's world condensed to dissipating and forming ice while Ráfi began working at a feverish pace. The two of them worked to stem the near-constant flow of blood and close the horrid wounds, some cut so deep they exposed bone. 

Several hours, poultices and stitches later, when night had long past fallen, Alarik lay prone, his torso swathed in bandages and another wrapped around his forehead. His skin was sweaty and fever-hot, his breathing shallow.

And without anything left to do but wait, Elsa found herself at the mercy of her thoughts.

Thoughts that would not let her forget the warm stickiness of far too much blood covering her and Ráfi's hands, Alarik's back, and the copious bandages and clothes they used in a desperate attempt to stem the flow. She could not forget his eyes, glazed and unfeeling, staring through her as he muttered incomprehensible words. Or the one sentence she did understand, spoken in an almost child-like voice.

"Mama, I don't want to d…"

She knew what the last word was. 

Die.

Anna, five years old, barely breathing in her arms. The creeping cold, destroying her tiny body… it merged into her ice, webbing across Alarik's back, tinged red.

"Oh, Elsa."

Her head jerked up, eyes widening when she saw Anna pulling the lavvu's cover shut behind her. Anna wasn't looking at her, but rather Alarik. Elsa could feel frost spreading beneath her palms, and pulled her hands to her chest, fighting the lingering cold. Anna took a deep breath before crossing over and sitting down next to Elsa, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. 

And Elsa could hold back no longer. She sobbed- messy, uncontrollable crying that shook her body. She knew her skin must be frigid, but Anna made no move to release her. Instead, she rubbed Elsa's back and murmured soothingly, encouraging her to release. 

The hardest thing for Elsa- trusting herself to release.

But she had no energy left to fight her tremulous emotions, and- selfishly, she knew- it felt good to let everything out. To rail against the unfairness of it all, even though she wasn't the one fighting for her life. 

Eventually her tears subsided, and Anna offered a handkerchief, which she used to clean her face. Anna's arm remained wrapped around her shoulder the entire time.

"I'm here, Elsa. I'm here."

"Arendelle…"

"Will survive without me. I'm here, as long as it takes."

………….

Kristoff and Neta arrived the morning after Anna- she'd been brought in by Nøkk, while they took the slower wagon. Kristoff joined Anna and several Northuldra in the rotating vigil that kept watch over Alarik and allowed Elsa to take some time to care for herself.

Rather, they forced her to. Save for the times she needed to relieve or clean herself, Elsa refused to leave Alarik's side. Many times she had to be reminded to eat, and slept in short bursts, often waking in a panic, convinced Alarik had passed.

Water and broth were dripped down Alarik's throat, and besides swallowing, his only other movement, the only indication he still lived, were the short, shallow breaths he took. Ráfi seemed content with Alarik's healing, but Elsa couldn't shake the fear he would not wake again.

Honeymaren, leading a group of hunters, found the bear by the second day. They returned to the village, grim-faced and bloody. They carried no meat or pelt.

"Desperate." Honeymaren's report to the elders was curt and quick. "It was desperate, starving and possibly sick. We burned the body to be sure."

The injured hunters came to Ráfi's to have their wounds tended. Most left shortly afterwards, some had to stay the night. 

But eventually, they too left. Only Alarik remained.

……………

Alarik drifted in a void after the dreams- were they dreams?- only occasionally aware of unintelligible voices and an ever-present, yet distant, pain. It was easy, just to drift and not have to think, just observe, and be. He could have stayed like that for a long time, especially since doing any more seemed to increase the pain. Best to leave things be, then.

But there was a niggling feeling in the back of his mind. That he pulled away from the quiet and calm, for someone waited for him, needed him. Alarik resisted at first, not wishing to leave the comfortable state he was in, but the feeling grew, sending flashes of images and sensations through his mind.

Bewolf. A bear. A snarling maw. Running, lungs burning, too slow! His head striking stone, and the pain of claws flaying his body. Blood, hot and sticky, fire, then a voice, familiar and sweet...

ELSA!

His eyes snapped open, and almost immediately he shut them, the sudden introduction of light intolerable. He made to cover his face, but stopped when the movement ignited a fire across his back, agony so incredible he nearly lost consciousness. He cried out. 

"Alarik, no, stay still. Shhhhh, shhhh, stay still."

"El...sa?" His voice was hoarse, as if he'd been screaming for hours. He slitted his eyes, and a shadow moved across his vision, easing the painful light.

"I'm here." She did not touch him, and he could hear the tremor in her voice. Alarik forced his eyes open the rest of the way, blinking away the blurriness. Elsa sat on a cot next to his, and a quick glance around confirmed that he rested in the healer's lavvu. 

"How… how long have I…?"

Elsa looked down, her hands balling into fists. "Three days. It's… it's been three days." She trembled, and Alarik's heart sank. "I thought you might… I didn't think…" Her hands dropped to the furs, and he could see frost crawling out between her fingers. 

"I am so sorry, Elsa."

"No, it's not your fault, it's just…" Her jaw clenched, and he could see tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. "I didn't know if I would see you alive again."

Alarik felt a burning in his own eyes, and he extended a hand, palm up, towards Elsa, silently begging her to take it. She remained still for several seconds, the only movement coming from her heaving chest and the tears that tracked down her cheeks. Then, slowly, she let her shaking hand rest on his. Elsa's skin was cold- almost painfully so-, but Alarik twined his fingers with hers, hoping she would feel the warmth he had to offer.

"I'm here, Elsa." Alarik repeated. He tried to bring his other hand over to stroke her knuckles, but the movement sent another spike of pain down his muscles. He settled for squeezing her hand, and after a moment's hesitation, she squeezed back. 

The short exchange was proving exhausting, however, and Alarik struggled to keep his eyes open. Ever perceptive, Elsa freed her hand and pulled the blanket higher over his shoulders. 

"Sleep, Alarik." She took his hand once more. "I'll be right here."

"So will I," he murmured as he began to drift off. 

"So will I."

The last sensation he had was the feel of her lips brushing across his forehead. 

[frozenprocedural]

TDOE Day 1- Modern AU

Happy birthday Elsa! To celebrate, here’s my contribution for TDOE Day 1- Modern AU.

Many thanks to @bepoets​ for the INCREDIBLE moodboard (still flailing!), @couragedontdesertme​ for the Stitiches!verse blanket idea, as well as letting me play in her Fight for Something verse. And, as always, thank you to @patricia-von-arundel​ for letting us play with the Shardsverse characters. Let me know when you want them back! XD

TDOE Day 1- Ultrasound

Rating: K

"Will you believe me when I say everything will be fine?"

Elsa pulled her gaze away from the passing scenery outside the car window to look at her husband. Alarik hadn't taken his eyes from the road, but he held out his hand, and, after a moment's hesitation, she took it.

"We can't know for sure, Alarik. That's why it's called the 'anatomical scan'. To scan for-"

"Elsa." Now his eyes did leave the road for the briefest of moments, locking onto hers, his gaze gentle. "I know."

Of course he did. If anything, Alarik had studied even more than she had when they first discovered the pregnancy. A pregnancy Elsa had never believed herself capable of having. 

"Elsa… this is gonna be tough to hear…"

Leisel finally opening the folder, turning it so Elsa could see the test results. Some of the medical jargon was unfamiliar, even with Elsa's background, but she knew enough. She was…

"Inferitle."

The word escaped from her lips with the force of a hammer blow. Lesiel's face was lined with a deep sadness, making her look far older than her twenty-five years. 

Elsa hadn't been ready to be a mother then. But it didn't mean she'd wanted the opportunity completely taken away from her. 

"I just… I don't know what I would do if anything was… wrong. If I hurt the baby…"

Alarik made some strange noise, and pulled the car into a nearby empty parking lot, turning it off. He contorted himself so he could place his hands on Elsa's shoulders, his eyes so intense she gasped. 

"Elsa, no. You have done nothing wrong, okay? Nothing. Everything you've done since we found out has been for the baby's health. If something is wrong- IF, then it would be because of factors outside our control. Not because of you. Alright?" His gaze softened, and he reached up to cup her cheek. "And if anything is wrong, we'll face it together. Together, or not at all, remember?"

Elsa leaned into his palm, feeling its familiar warmth. God help her, but she loved him so much. So much it almost hurt at times. Alarik used the pad of his thumb to brush away the tear that slipped down her cheek.

"Alright." Her voice was little more than a whisper, but he heard it nonetheless. 

"Alright," he repeated, just as quietly. He took her hand once more and pressed a kiss to the finger that held his ring. "We should go. Leisel will kill me if I make us late to your ultrasound." 

That coaxed a laugh from Elsa. It made him smile all the more, and he wound his fingers through hers before starting the car back up and continuing their drive to the hospital.

…………

"You're late."

Alarik gave a long-suffering sigh, rolling his eyes at Leisel, who responded with a dismissive wave, before turning to Elsa and taking her hands. 

"Are you ready?"

Elsa tried to smile, knowing Leisel would likely feel the trembling in her hands. "As ready as I can be."

Leisel gave Elsa's hands a reassuring squeeze. "I know you're nervous. But let's focus on the good right now. You're going to see your baby today. Come on in." 

They followed Leisel into the room, where she asked for Elsa to get on the table. Alarik helped her up and took the opportunity to press a quick kiss to her forehead, one hand brushing back a flyaway wisp of hair. He sat in the chair beside her, taking her hand in his. 

"Alright Elsa, before I start the ultrasound itself, I'm going to take some measurements of your abdomen to see how your growth is progressing. I'll just need to lift your shirt so I can get to your belly here…" 

She and Anna were in the dress shop for a final fitting of their bridesmaid dresses, and Elsa desperately wished she could stop feeling nauseous long enough to enjoy the event. Of course, Anna had noticed right away that something was wrong. 

"Elsa, do you want to sit down? You don't look like you're feeling too well." Anna kept her voice low enough it didn't travel to where Leisel stood. 

"I'm fine, Anna. Really," she added when Anna shot her a disbelieving look. "It's probably just something I ate. It'll pass. Let's get our dresses on."

Anna sighed, but followed Elsa over to the dresses without further argument. Elsa started to put hers on, but something was wrong. 

It didn't fit. 

The dress pulled at her hips, and even though she was able to get it on, it wouldn't zip. Just a month ago it had slid on easily. Out of desperation, Elsa double-checked the name on the bag.

"Elsa?" Leisel's voice was uncharacteristically soft. Elsa made herself smile as she turned to face her friend.

"I think I may have gotten the wrong dress? This one isn't fitting me. Maybe they mixed mine with someone else's?" Elaa knew she was babbling, but her unease was growing. 

"Elsa." Leisel's voice was firmer this time, breaking through the panicked haze of thoughts. She took Elsa's hands and gave them a squeeze. "You're not feeling well, are you?" Elsa shot Anna- who stood next to Leisel- a sharp look, but Leisel shook her head. "No, she didn't say anything, but thank you for confirming it. I noticed myself. When was your last cycle?"

Elsa shook her head, clenching her fists as the nausea returned in full force. "No… I can't. You told me so yourself. The test... I can't be…" The word choked in her throat. 

Leisel was rummaging in her purse. "The chance was low. It's rare, but not unheard of to get a false positive. Here," she produced two slim boxes and pressed them into Elsa's palm. "Anna, please go with her. If I'm wrong, then we'll figure out what's going on." She didn't say anything about being right, but the implication was there. 

Elsa didn't even think to ask why Leisel had pregnancy tests in her purse.

Five minutes later in the shop's bathroom, Elsa stood with her arms crossed about her middle, trying not to stare at the tests or the timer counting down on her phone. Anna stood beside her, one arm wrapped around her sister's shoulder, and for once, Elsa was grateful for the contact. It helped ground her as each second passed. Neither of them spoke.

The ringing of Elsa's alarm caused them both to startle, and Elsa fumbled while trying to turn it off, ending up with her phone clattering to the floor. Anna bent down and retrieved it before she could, placing it on the counter. 

"Take a breath."

Elsa nodded, but her hands still trembled as she turned over the tests. Both showed two lines.

She was pregnant. 

"Alright, Elsa, I'm going to put the gel on now. It may be a bit cold. Are you ready?"

Elsa blinked back to the present, looking over at Leisel, who held a white bottle in her hand. Alarik squeezed the hand he still held, and she returned the gesture.

"Yes."

A cool, somewhat tingly sensation spread across her skin as the gel was applied, and then before Elsa had really registered it, the wand was pressed against her swell. Elsa immediately turned to watch the screen.

At first, all Elsa saw was a black field surrounded by staticky grey that blurred and jumped as Leisel moved the wand over her belly. Then movement, and…

"There you are, little one!" Leseil crowed. 

Elsa gasped, hearing a similar surprised sound from Alarik. There, on the screen, was the first image of the baby, with its miniscule, rounded face, one arm slowly waving as if greeting those watching. Elsa felt Alarik dab at her eyes with a tissue, and only then did she realize she was crying. 

"Hi," she whispered, unable to muster anything more. 

Next to her, Alarik made a soft, choked sound, and she tore her gaze away from the screen long enough to see that his eyes were streaming tears as well- not that he made any effort to hide it. When he caught her looking at him, his grin was so bright, so wide, and the love she felt for him in that moment was almost physically painful. 

"I should be able to determine the sex the way the fetus is positioned. Would you like to know?" 

"Yes." Alarik and Elsa spoke in unison. They both turned to face the screen as Leisel slid the wand to and fro across Elsa's belly. Seconds passed, and then…

"You have a little girl."

………..

"Healthy. Perfectly healthy," was Leisel's final determination of the exam. All growth was normal, nothing out of place or concerning. 

As they left, Elsa's hand kept drifting to her purse, seeking the edge of the photograph tucked in there. The photograph of their baby. Their baby girl.

"We'll have to stop by Anna and Kristoff's on the way home. She wants me to tell her in person."

Alarik had been holding her other hand, and it was only when she looked up at him that Elsa realized he was leading her away from the main doors. When he caught her confused look, he flushed and grinned. 

"Sorry, do you mind if I grab something from my office?"

Elsa narrowed her eyes- Alarik wasn't one to leave things behind. "You'll have to deal with Anna when she finds out you made her wait."

"It will be quick, I promise."

Elsa quirked an eyebrow, but allowed herself to be led towards the corridor that would bring them to the office area. As they walked, Elsa tried to figure out why her husband was suddenly so tense and fidgety. As they reached his office and he started to open the door, Elsa couldn't hold back. 

"Alarik, what's-"

"SURPRISE!"

Elsa leapt back, feeling Alarik's hand on the small of her back supporting her. Rather than being empty, Anna, Kristoff and Neta were standing- looking somewhat cramped- in the small office. Anna rushed forward, pulling Elsa into a hug.

"We couldn't wait! Alarik texted us while you were finishing up so we could wait here. By the way, you need to clean this place, Alarik. So, am I getting a niece or a nephew?"

Elsa, still recovering from being startled, took a moment to process what Anna had said. She shook her head to clear it, then smiled, pulling out the ultrasound photo to show Anna.

"We're having a girl. She's healthy and growing fine."

Anna and Neta squealed in unison, while Kristoff broke into a rare broad grin. They all crowded around to look at the picture, Anna pointing out the baby's features to Neta. 

"Congrats, Elsa," Kristoff said warmly, reaching out to put a gentle hand on her shoulder. 

"That's amazing, Aunt Elsa!" Neta threw her arms around her, and Elsa returned the hug.

"I'm glad she'll have such an incredible cousin to look up to. But now I have to know, what are all of you doing here? Not that I'm not happy to see you, but I thought the news would be given at your house."

Neta, who had been bouncing on the balls of her feet, burst out, "We got you a gift! Sorry, mom." She looked back with an apologetic grin to Anna, who made a disgruntled noise. Anna sighed and handed over a large blue bag.

"My birthday isn't for another few days, you know." Elsa raised an eyebrow at her family.

"Well, it's more for… actually, just open it, you'll see." Anna responded. Elsa sighed at the cryptic response, but did as she was prompted, removing the tissue paper until her fingers touched something soft. She pulled it free, and gasped. 

A pale purple blanket lay in her hands, the edges decorated with embroidered crocuses. It was a bit worn, a bit faded, and so achingly familiar. Once, it had rested on Anna's hospital bed, a gift from Elsa, something to distract from the sickness and keep Anna warm. A blanket edged with rosemaling- a skill their mother had taught Elsa to help calm her during Anna's first stays at the hospital. 

And later, in a much happier time, it had been wrapped around Neta shortly after she'd entered the world. A bit more worn then, but Anna refused to use any other blanket. She claimed Neta slept best in that one.

And now, it was to be used once again.

Something in the corner caught Elsa's eye, and she bunched the fabric until she was able to see new stitching, different from the neat rows of flowers. 

Anna's name- no, Aunt Anna, somewhat crooked, but still very much recognizable. Neta's name, with surprisingly neat stitches and even a small heart. The letters "UK", as uneven as her preschoolers' handwriting- how had Anna managed to get Kristoff to do that? And, at the bottom, with the neat pattern of a doctor, Papa. 

Elsa ran a thumb over the work, feeling tears prick at her eyes. She could feel everyone's eyes on her, but she could only look at the names, the love put into each stitch. Her heart felt so full it was nearly painful. She finally looked up through a haze of tears, and fell into the open arms of her smiling family. 

Little one, you will be so loved.

…….

Several months later….

Somehow, she had done it. 

Pain- so much pain. And then a cry, piercing the room, and a warm bundle placed on Elsa’s bare chest. 

Her daughter.

Alarik and Anna, sitting on either side of her, were both in tears as they congratulated her and stroked the baby's hair and back. Elsa had eyes only for her daughter. 

"Hi," she whispered.

I love you. You are perfect. 

Elsa watched anxiously when the baby was taken for a checkup and a quick bath, unable to relax until she had her daughter back in her arms, skin-to-skin. 

Alarik rummaged in the go-bag, then pulled out the blanket. He placed it over them, making sure the edge with the embroidered signatures was close. Elsa had added her own- Mama- and just as before, the sight of the names filled her heart with love. 

She pressed a kiss to her daughter's head, tucking the edges of the blanket in more securely. 

Her baby made a soft, contented noise, one tiny fist curling around the soft material as she slipped off to sleep. 

[insectoid5]

This is so cute!!

“Don’t tell, okay?”

Birger snorted. We shall see, pup.

“She’ll get mad at you, too.”

Truth.

Jenny knew he wasn’t going to tell, anyway. He’d kept pace with her all the way up the hill, her scrambling as he padded, smirking at her slipping and gasping and grabbing for any handhold. Her own thought: jerk.

But she didn’t say it. Because…

Well? On you get.

She clambered onto his back, gripping his fur, leaning forward. “Go! Go!”

He could slide like no other, faster and faster, better than any sled. And Jenny pushed up, whooped and hollered and felt the wind whipping against her face, pulling hair from her messy braid. All the way down.

And she fell from him then, panting and laughing and red-faced.

You are a strange one, pup.

“So’re you.” She pushed herself to a sit, ignoring the cold of the snow. “Can we do it again?”

[patricia-von-arundel]

top 5 shardsverse (or shardsverse AU) fics that you've ever written? ;D

1. Sweet Joy Befall Thee

2. Make Weep the Eyes of Day

3. The Boarding House AU

4. Bits and pieces of Shieldmaiden

5. Uhhhhhh...?

[patricia-von-arundel]

This isn't a cliche AU, but DOES THE SHARDSVERSE AU COUNT??? 😁

Hahahahaha... I'll be in my boarding house?

[insectoid5]

Awwww!

Affirmation

Elsarik Week Day 2!

This one is set in the universe of a story I once planned that most probably don’t remember, called Frostbite. It was a modern-era horror AU in which Elsa left Alarik before finding out she was pregnant - and then failed to tell him about it. (Note: This was not a smart decision. Nor does he take it well. And no, that’s not what makes it horror, hush.)

But after the events of the story…

He was nervous. It was very, very obvious he was nervous. 

Jenny seemed mostly oblivious, running a Matchbox car along the edge of the table, leaning to push it further. Elsa was not oblivious, but she kept her thoughts to herself. It seemed… necessary. To let him have the lead.

 “Jenny?” His voice was hesitant in a way Elsa had rarely heard it.  

She looked at him, then. The car slid into her fist, but she didn’t pull it back. “What?”

“Do you, uh… I brought you a gift?”

That made her light up. “What is it?”

“But I… I don’t think you’ll like it.”

She cocked her head. “Why?”

“Well… I thought… I thought you might like a doll. And it seems I was likely… wrong.”

Elsa readied herself to reprimand, to try to fix the situation before it again turned sour, but to her surprise, Jenny said, “Can it ride on my car?”

Now it was Alarik’s turn to look surprised. Then he smiled. “I’m certain that it can. Would you like it?”

And Elsa watched as he helped Jenny open the packaging, and held the doll - far too big - as Jenny raced it across the table. His hands looked so large against Jenny’s tiny ones. She had made a mistake…

But now, there was a chance to fix it. 

“Crash!” Jenny sent the car tumbling from the table, and Alarik let the doll go with it, and Jenny laughed in glee at the ridiculous noises he made to go along. 

How long this continued, Elsa could not say. It was hard enough to contain the feelings that threatened to spill from her: her regret, her love, her longing. An affirmation, that for all her stupid decisions, all that had happened, what she had chosen was right. 

Jenny laughing, and laughing, and laughing. The poor doll hurled hither and yon. Alarik’s smile. 

All was right. 

[patricia-von-arundel]

The Boarding House AU: Elsa & University

Rating: T

Summary: Shardsverse AU. After escaping a death sentence, and forced to come to terms with the idea that she can never return to Arendelle nor see Anna again, Elsa finds herself in the unexpected position of sharing a room with a poverty-stricken young scholar of magic…

Part I: Elsa & Alarik | Part II: Elsa & Christmas | Part III: Elsa & Romance Novels (I) | Part IV: Elsa & Romance Novels (II)

Elsa was doing better - and worse. And Alarik was at a loss.

The nightmares came every few nights, and he could see her terror, her desperation, but despite his own similar nighttime tortures - less frequent now, but far from extinct - he didn’t know how to help her. 

He had always placed his faith in books, evidence, results - until the frightened young queen of Arendelle had arrived, and suddenly the variables were beyond his control. He just wanted to help her. 

He wanted to protect her. To once, just once, not fail to do so. 

But he had no right to do so. What he needed to do was find a better place for her - safer, more secure, cleaner and neater. 

Until then, he instead took to visiting Mrs. Gustavsson’s bakery on the way home from work, in hopes they had stale chocolate croissants, and adding a few more drops of water to his ink, or blowing out the lights an hour earlier. Sometimes, he was lucky enough to find only Agne behind the counter in the bakery. 

She had asked him, the first time he went in, “For the pretty young lady with gloves but no cloak?”

Alarik felt his face redden, but he nodded. “Elsa. Her name is Elsa.”

“A pretty name, too,” Agne said, and Alarik was glad his hair covered his ears as the flush moved north. But she might have seen anyway, when she leaned close to whisper, “Don’t tell Mother.” And she slipped another croissant in before tying the paper closed. 

“Thank you,” Alarik said, with all the warmth he could infuse into a murmur. 

And when Elsa whimpered and fought in the night, pulling him from work or from sleep, he lit a lamp, called her name until she found her way to consciousness - never touching - and hold out a croissant. She always took it, and usually managed a shaky smile.

It was more than enough. 

They rarely spoke during those times. He did try - an awkward, uncomfortable, “Do you want to talk about it?”

But she shook her head. “No. But... thank you.”

He didn’t know what to do. 

She didn’t complain, even when circumstances kept him late, running home with bread under one arm, whatever he could find that was cheap and filling under the other. She never complained about the food, the long days spent cooped up in cold silence, or about anything at all. he almost believed she feared what would happen if she dared to question the circumstances of her life - and considering what had happened when she had tried flee the role into which she had been born, such fears were understandable. 

He understood far better than he was yet prepared to let her know. But for now, it seemed cruel to ask her to share that burden - he had agreed to take hers, with no understanding that she would do the same with his. And as January dragged on, and he saw some tiny, almost incidental improvements, it seemed quiet had been the best course of action. 

The result of her frightened flight, the first day he had left her, seemed to be a reluctance to go out at all without immediate permission, no matter how many times he said it was not necessary, or however many piles of skilling coins he tried to leave for her use. So he took to coming home for lunch when he could - two days a week, at most three - to make sure she had a midday meal, and never mind how enticing was the enormous, roaring fires of the university reading rooms. She smiled now, usually, to see him, and that was a kind of warmth, too. 

But better still, after her brave trip out, alone, into the blizzard, she sometimes asked - offered? - to do the same again. But she only did so if he was there when she left, and when she came back. He certainly wasn’t going to argue - it was frigid outside, the streets slick with ice - besides it being a sign he took as hopeful. 

It had been a long time since he’d been responsible for someone, and never for someone as fragile and brittle as Elsa. But even he could see the pride in her eyes when she managed things for herself - or even better, for both of them. He liked seeing it. 

She has inclination to push herself to exhaustion, her father had once written. She believes there is control in perfection, despite the impossibility of the latter.

In the years since -  maybe just in the time from July to December, a scant few months - some part of her had cracked and fallen to fragments. If a trip to the shops might begin to glue her back together, if she could see herself accomplished in buying bread or a bottle of milk, then it became his job to encourage her. If she wanted perfection, let her be perfectly free. 

By mid-January, she even sometimes returned with clear pride at finding a better deal than he had anticipated: “I know you said chicken was on special, but the  herring was even better, for how much you get at the same price.”

And he wondered if he would ever stop being amazing by some of the things she did, completely unconsciously. “You worked that out on the spot?”

She looked to the side, but allowed herself to smile. “I’ve always been good at arithmetic. Poor Anna hated it.”

The herring lasted three days, where the chicken might have gotten them through two meals, and no more. He didn’t have to water down his ink that week, and there was enough left to buy her two small squares of chocolate on his way home. 

“For helping me,” he said, self-conscious as he gave it to her. 

“What?”

“The herring. I always just buy what’s most obviously cheap. But that... I had a little left over.”

“Really?” She took the chocolate - but instead of eating it, she placed it very carefully, still in its tissue-paper wrapping, on her tiny pile of personal belongings. There was half a chocolate croissant there too, and he hoped it meant she was getting enough to eat. 

“Really. Thank you.”

Again, she wouldn’t look at him, but her smile was almost sunny. “I’m glad. Especially because... herring’s my favorite.”

“Even better,” he said, then added, “I like herring, though cod’s always been my favorite.”

She went to the market for him the next Saturday, and was gone long enough that he grew concerned - but how could he hope to find her in all the crowded stalls and people? If she needed help, would she have the courage to ask?

But the memory sent a chill through him, deeper than the frigid air: she had asked for help, before, and had trusted blindly an utter stranger. She said she hadn’t, and of course she had the means to protect herself, and it had turned out fine, but he couldn’t let things happen to her as they had once happened to him. The circumstances had not been ideal, but still, he had chosen this life. Elsa had been forced into it. 

And he would never forget Anna’s letter, the last line before she signed her name: All that I know to ask is that you find her a place of safety, where I cannot. 

He watched out the window - the one he already thought of as Elsa’s window - and hated his inability to do as Anna had asked. This was not a place of safety - this was poverty and rot and despair. Elsa deserved a warm, dry room of her own, good food served on china plates, security and love. 

None of those things could exist, could survive, in the world Alarik had chosen for himself. 

He had to find her somewhere else to go. 

Especially since he had been here, already, for over a year - and, dutifully paying off past debts as he was, there was no way to avoid a trail, receipts and notes and bank letterheads, that would eventually be followed. He was six months, perhaps a year, from paying all he owed. He thought - hoped - that it would be easier to disappear then; they would have to ask questions, risk getting some in return, and as long as he wasn’t an outright threat - which he had no intention of being, whatever certain others believed - it might be deemed safer to leave him be. And then, perhaps things could improve: more money. Secure lodging intended for the long-term. Wood for the fire and a pantry for food and shelves for his books. 

There would be, for Elsa, what Anna had asked. 

But if his debts took longer than anticipated to be paid? If they found him before then?

She had been here for a month, and every day had been a threat to her. It was time to do as Anna had asked.

She finally came back flushed and happy, oblivious, it seemed, to the almost two hours she had been gone, and she looked so unburdened that he swallowed the desire to demand explanation. He got it anyway - she had a paper-wrapped parcel, and unfolded it, smiling, almost grinning, to show several small cuts of fish. “Cod!” she said. “The man cutting fillets said usually the pet-meat man buys the ends, but he’d sell me half a pound. And I had enough left for an onion, and the boy gave me a potato for free!”

She was so proud of herself. And he was astonished, again, not just at a free potato, but at her clear knack for thinking quickly and spending well. It didn’t seem likely she had been taught it - it wouldn’t be part of training for a king’s daughter any more than it had been for a duke’s son. And she had shown a talent, already, far superior to his own.

And so he grinned back, sharing her thrill, and pleased himself that she had not only remembered what he liked, but found a way to get it. Cod-ends for day-old chocolate croissants: it was a trade he would take.

But it’s still time to send her away.

He didn’t say anything. Not yet. They ate cod and onion and potato, and he slept, in his pile of blankets on the floor, for once with a full stomach. 

He considered his colleagues at the university carefully, trying to gauge them in a manner never necessary before: who could be trusted with Elsa?

Not those who, like him, were still early in their careers - though most came from wealthy families, with no lack of money whatever the university paid them, Elsa would be a trifle to their likes, a temporary adventure until they grew bored or were expected to marry some socially-approved girl of highborn status - not as highborn as Elsa, but that was now, of course, a moot point. Alarik was well aware of the scorn most of them felt for him - they had no idea of his own aristocratic birth, and would remain ignorant of it; his research brought enough risk without inviting more. 

And, too, there was the concern of her magic - of who could be trusted to know about it. He was one of few in his field - physical science - who found the investigation of what many believed to be a dying phenomenon worthwhile. The Tsandskiyi retreated further and further from modern civilization, and considering how they were still viewed and treated, was it really any surprise? Alarik had gotten to work with a small population in the remote lands between Austria and Russia, but no others had ever been willing to speak to him. The tiny human population with magic - like Elsa - were rare, often living in careful solitude if they survived to adulthood, and almost as distrustful of those who expressed interest in their strange abilities as the rest of the world was of them. They were born in uneven waves, but still, finding them in his present circumstances was all but impossible. Since earning his doctorate, he had expanded his research, of necessity, examining the historical appearances of what was called magic - but even more, he considered cellular properties in more accessible subjects; plants, mostly. 

Shards cells had appeared groundbreaking, attention-getting research but not so very long after, he and everyone else in his academic circles had yet to find an real value to or use for their discovery. He had earned his doctorate, and had, since, done whatever he could just to keep himself afloat. The older academics, he thought, felt something akin to pity, but the younger ones, with their comfortable allowances and sizable donations made as they presented themselves for doctoral consideration, looked at him with derision. Because who was he to them? A poor scholar, Chaucer’s Clerk, who had managed a momentary glory and so was afforded a reluctant place among them. 

If he was fair, maybe they were not all like that - but he could see none of them agreeing to give Elsa a safe place to live, a place where her nightmares might subside and her smiles come from more than buying cast-off ends of fish. A place where her magic would not be her defining characteristic - and her chains. 

His oldest colleagues were equally unlikely. They generally fell into two categories: those who doddered, monotonous, through the same material they had been teaching for decades, and those who had turned to zealots, paranoid and mad-eyed. And why would any of them, most of whom had adult children and grandchildren, agree to take on Elsa? She couldn’t pay for the lodging, and neither could Alarik. Anna might be able to help, but that would put both her and Elsa in greater danger. 

That left him with those ten or twenty years into their careers. Some of them, too, had families of their own, but just as many did not. He also wondered, briefly, if Elsa might make a good nanny or tutor, but the magic might be an issue. Still, he broached the topic after dinner one night in early February:

“How do you feel about children?”

She was sitting on her usual perch by the window, watching night fall over the city, holding her cup of tea from dinner, though it must have long since grown cold. She placed it on the sill before turning to look at him with her eyebrows raised. “Children?”

“Do you... like them?”

For a long moment, she just stared at him. “I... haven’t spent much time around them.”

He pushed his hair back from his eyes, mostly just to have something to do. “No, of course not.”

“Why?”

“I’m... trying to, uh... find a better place for you. Better than here. I thought maybe...”

“Oh.” She looked down at her hands, folded now across her lap. Her silk gloves were torn and stained, but still she kept them on. “I’m not safe to be around children.”

“You’re not...” But he swallowed back the rest.

Still, she shook her head. “I’m not.” She was still staring down at her hands.

A few days later, around midday, he was called out of a lecture by a very nervous-looking boy he didn’t know: “Dr. Andresson wants to see you, sir.”

Dr. Andresson was the head of the physical sciences department - Alarik had spoken to him perhaps twice in all the time he had been here. Alarik shared  “office” space with three others in a tiny, windowless room; Dr. Andresson had a long, modern office, a secretary in the anteroom. That secretary looked curiously flushed as he looked up at Alarik and said, “Dr. Geatland? They’re just in there.”

He didn’t have any idea what to expect on the other side of the heavy door, but it certainly would not have been Elsa. She was on the straight-backed chair in the corner, her hands locked tightly together - and the room was noticeably chilly despite the fire. She glanced up and quickly down again, but even that was enough that he saw the fear in her eyes. 

Dr. Andresson cleared his throat, drawing Alarik’s attention. “This young woman was asking for you in the porter’s office, Dr. Geatland.” Andresson was a heavily-built man in late middle age, confident of his own position in life - and Alarik’s much lower one. “Do you know her?”

Elsa looked like a reprimanded child, staring at her feet, still and silent. 

“Yes,” Alarik said. “She’s... she’s my neighbor.”

Dr. Andresson nodded slowly, and steepled his hands before his face. “Mm. I see. That is the extent of your... ‘relationship’?”

Alarik felt the flush in his cheeks. “Yes, sir.”

“And what, then, is her business here today?” Asked as if Elsa could not give an answer herself, or was too far below his notice to be bothered with. Alarik felt a flare of irritation - at Dr. Andresson, but also at Elsa.

“I don’t know,” he said.

“You don’t know.”

“No, sir.”

The silence that followed was long and painful. Elsa was gnawing at her lower lip, brows knit, while Dr. Andresson watched her. When he cleared his throat once more, Elsa started, but Alarik didn’t think Dr. Andresson noticed the frost that bloomed on her skirt, beneath her torn gloves. She herself noticed, of course - her eyes widened, just slightly, and she quickly adjusted the folds of material to hide it. 

“I suppose that this time,” Dr. Andresson said, “we will call it a warning. But I would advise you, Dr. Geatland, that if you intend to remain in academia, you would do well to pick your... neighbors... carefully.”

The flush had risen to his ears. “Yes, sir.”

“I will have the porter escort her out. You may go.”

“What were you thinking?”

Alarik had tried to tamp down his anger, his frustration - there was no reason it should be directed at her. And he might have managed it if the porter wasn’t such a damned gossip, so that word spread quickly and everyone was jesting him about “neighbors” all afternoon. Even more irritating, he hadn’t been able to come up with any better explanation or excuse for her presence. 

But as he should have learned from the last time, she did not respond well to anger. She crossed her arms - tightly - and looked up at him with a face the portrait of a queen. “I was bringing you lunch.”

“What? Why?”

“Why not? You walk home for lunch several days a week. I was trying to... to return the favor.”

“You can’t do that!”

There was more ice in her voice than he’d ever seen from her hands: “Why. Not?”

He rubbed a hand over his face. How much more of this would there be - things he had never anticipated, things he had no way of knowing he needed to both consider and convey? “Women can’t... they’re not allowed on university property. Here, anyway.”

For a moment, she just stared at him - a rare occurrence. Two bright little spots of red grew on her cheeks. “That’s... that’s barbaric.”

He turned away from her, finally, to look at nothing in particular - the shadowy hint of a blank wall, all but lost to the onset of night - outside the window beside her. The anger and frustration, finally, were dissipating... leaving him at a loss. “I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it.”

There was too much she didn’t know - too much to keep up with. And he was tired, so very tired. Tired of trying to get by, tired of living in squalor, tired of struggling, tired of stress and uncertainty and most of all...

Most of all, he was tired of her. 

He had always been terrible at hiding his emotions, and something of this must have shown on his face - she started to speak, but he shook his head, balling his hands to fists at his side. “I’m... I’m sorry, I... I think I could... use some air.”

He almost ran - desperate, suddenly, to be gone before she had a chance to respond. Heedless - and coatless - into the frigid cold, hands tucked deep into his pockets, shoulders hunched against more than just the bitter wind. 

What would happen if he just never went back? He had done it before. Just kept walking. Refused to look back. 

Icy streets, dirty snow piled and frozen against dirtier stucco, someone nearby shouting, the sounds of a meaty slap and a wailing child. A dirty, ugly city in a dirty, ugly world. Anywhere he went, it was more of the same. 

He had never asked for this. For any of this. But most of all, he had never asked for Elsa. For broken, struggling, frightened Elsa. 

No more than she had asked for him. Broken, struggling, frightened Alarik.

He stopped, shivering, beneath a broken street lamp. The word was gray - the buildings, the sky, the snow. In his mind he saw her: blankets pooled around her waist, holding a croissant, using both hands because of how they trembled. Her eyes finally meeting his, just briefly, and the tentative attempt at a smile. 

But he had to stop thinking of her as helpless. He was the problem. And she had not asked to be here. She had not asked to be dumped into a wholly alien world - one where she was now trying so hard to understand and grow. Her father had written of her struggles, and she struggled still, but... 

Cod! And the way that she had smiled. 

He slumped against the lamp post. He wanted to cry. 

Instead, he walked home again. And she turned to him, and he let the words come as they might: “I’m sorry. I’m... God, I’m sorry. I’m just... I’m an idiot. The whole administration and the rules are... are ridiculous. The whole thing is stupid, you’re right, you’re completely right, I had never even thought about it, but... I guess... what I’m trying to... to say is... thank you. And... and I really appreciate... all that you’ve done for me. I... I know it’s hard for you.”

A moment of silence - but he could have sworn, after, that he saw a ghost of a smile cross her face. “Apology accepted. And... you’re welcome.”

He did smile. He didn’t mind. And when she cocked an eyebrow and looked away, shaking her head, it only got wider. 

The real problem, he realized later, waiting for sleep: not where he was going to send her... but what sending her away might do to him. 

[frozenprocedural]

5, 23, 34, 54 elsarik

5) How did their second date go? HILARIOUSLY. Anna, of course, knew about Alarik, and keeps trying to "suggest" things to Alarik. He realizes he should have taken Elsa somewhere quiet, outdoors, and just talked.

23) How do they tell everyone that they are going to be having a kid/adopting a child soon? Alarik waits until Elsa tells everyone. In Shardsverse, it's canon she told people around 5 months. AU verses, possibly close to when she finds out. Because Anna would KILL her if she wasn't informed right away.

34) What would they dress up as, for Halloween? Alarik, something geeky and related to science. Or some sort of science pun that NO ONE gets. Elsa, probably a book character.

54) Who has the better comebacks? Elsa.