#agdar

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who?” he pressed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He narrowed his eyes. “And the unofficial?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silence fell. But Haugen’s smile said everything.

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

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

Haugen smiled. “I believe they do.”

“Excuse me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Elsa gave the faintest shake of her head.

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

“Will the physician come today?” Elsa asked.

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

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

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

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

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

Elsa flinched.

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

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

“I know.”

“I didn’t—”

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

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

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

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

“You won’t hurt me.”

“I did.”

Gerda’s brow furrowed. “Elsa—”

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

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

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

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

“Sweetheart—” she began again.

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

But something gnawed at her.

That pressure.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gerda tilted her head, not following.

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

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

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

“Elsa—”

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

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

Elsa flinched at the touch.

“You are not dangerous, dear.”

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

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

Elsa blinked. “What do you mean?”

Gerda hesitated.

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

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

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

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

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

“I see,” she said at last.

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

Take care and read you soon!

---

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

He should have expected the board to place a hold on the transaction beforehand. He had, in a way, anticipated it. But he had hoped for more time. At least enough time to prepare a proper explanation, or get hold of his savings and return the money before it caught the accountants’ attention.

Shaking his head, he let out a low chuckle, imagining what his father would have thought of his mistakes. Rookie ones, at that. He had disappointed his father in more ways than he cared to count, but, for reasons he couldn’t explain, the only disappointments that still stung were the ones tied to the business.

Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on the desk and pressed his palms against his eyes, trying in vain to dull the pounding headache that had been building all day.

“I knew I’d find you here,” a voice cut through the silence.

Agdar raised his head, letting his hands drop with a loud thud on the desk, and noticed Mattias standing by the door.

The man, now in his sixties, had once been one of his father’s most trusted advisers despite being considerably younger than the rest of his consultants back then. Sensible and sharp, Mattias had a deep understanding of both business and politics, paired with a nonchalant attitude that made even the gravest matters feel less suffocating.

The gray in his beard and the weathered lines on his face made him look sterner than he was, though his eyes still carried the same focus Agdar had always admired. Whether he was speaking to businessmen or plant workers, the man had a natural talent. Always getting his point across with simplicity. Having always valued that, Agdar hadn’t hesitated to keep him around after Runeard’s passing. He was still grateful that Mattias had stayed with the company through the hardest times, before their technological breakthroughs made their products market leaders. Agdar truly considered Mattias his right hand.

“I could tell from your call that the urgent meeting was more serious than I’d imagined,” Mattias continued, stepping into the office and pulling back a chair to sit on the other side of the desk. “Things were calm when we left yesterday morning. Care to tell me what we’ve managed to do in the last twenty-four hours?”

Agdar hesitated, glancing down at the crumpled notes scattered on his desk. Incoherent words and half-formed sentences that he tried to put together in an attempt to explain his situation. None of it was good enough to convince the board why he needed the money so desperately without exposing things he wasn’t ready to reveal.

“Agdar?” Mattias tilted his head, searching for his eyes. “I haven’t seen you this worried since the last recession. What’s going on?”

“I need to tell you something,” Agdar said suddenly, surprising even himself. He wasn’t sure how much he wanted to share, or how much he could risk saying aloud. But if there was one person whose advice he trusted, it was Mattias. He only hoped the man wouldn’t be too relentless in his judgment.

Mattias straightened slightly, shifting into the posture he usually reserved for tense board meetings. “Sounds serious.”

Agdar exhaled slowly, hesitating for a moment longer before he finally admitted, “I have another daughter.”

Mattias blinked. “You mean, on the way?” He paused, reading Agdar’s expression. “Are congratulations in order?”

“No. It’s—” Agdar shook his head. “I have another daughter,” he repeated, slower this time. “She’s older than Anna.”

Mattias leaned back, the old wood chair creaking under his weight. “Older? I’ve never heard of her.”

“No one has.” Agdar’s gaze dropped to the mess of notes again. Saying it aloud felt heavier now, as though the full confession had been placed on the table between them. “She was born before Iduna and I got married. We left her at an orphanage over twenty years ago. We told ourselves she’d have a better life with another family.”

Mattias’ brows lifted, though he didn’t speak at first. When the initial shock faded, he nodded slowly. “What about her mother?” he asked, narrowing his eyes slightly.

“Iduna’s the mother,” Agdar clarified, sharper than he intended. He’d assumed it was obvious. He hadn’t considered the possibility of people thinking there had been another woman before his wife until now, and he wondered if the board would leap to the same conclusion.

Mattias gave another slow nod, letting the information sink in. “How old is she?”

“Twenty-four.”

Mattias rubbed his goatee, deep in thought. The silence stretched uncomfortably, long enough to make Agdar shift in his seat, but he held back, waiting for his reaction.

“So,” Mattias said finally, meeting his gaze, “let me get this straight. You and Iduna had a daughter out of wedlock. You gave her up for adoption…”

“Yes.”

“Four years later, you had Anna.”

Agdar closed his eyes, bracing against the weight of his calm, measured tone. He could hear the unspoken judgment beneath it. “Yes,” he said quietly.

“Did Runeard know?”

“Yes,” Agdar replied, having expected the question. “We kept the pregnancy, as well as her birth, a secret for as long as we could. My father was never supportive of my relationship with Iduna, as you know. But I eventually needed to—”

Mattias leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, hands clasped together. “Why are you sharing this information with me now?” he interrupted. “After all these years?”

Agdar hesitated, thrown off by his lack of interest in the backstory or his father’s reaction to the news. Though, thinking about it, he shouldn’t have been surprised. Mattias rarely voiced opinions about Runeard and preferred to focus on solutions.

“I think you know the reason…”

“You need to let the board know there’s another successor. Is that it?” He guessed, knowing the board would be involved.

“Not entirely, but I fear that’s what they’ll think this is about.”

Mattias’ gaze sharpened. “I certainly thought it was strange for you to request a board meeting first thing Monday morning. For a moment, I assumed it had something to do with the unusual payments we managed to stop— that maybe someone was trying to use company funds in your name.”

“It’s all related.”

“Be clearer, Agdar.”

Agdar’s throat tightened. “Elsa’s in the hospital. She’s very ill, needing intensive care. She’s got a long recovery ahead of her.”

“I’m assuming Elsa’s your eldest daughter,” Mattias said, waiting for a nod before continuing. “Were you trying to pay for her treatment with company funds?”

Agdar avoided his gaze. “Yes.”

Mattias drew a slow breath, rubbing his hand over his chin again. “You should’ve told me this weeks ago.”

“I know.”

“The board won’t like this.”

“I need your help breaking the news and persuading them to approve these extraordinary transfers.”

Mattias leaned back, weighing his words carefully. “I’ll be honest with you, Agdar. The first thing they’ll want to know is if you’re paying for this woman’s silence.”

Agdar froze, looking back at him. “What do you mean?”

“Is she really Iduna’s?” Mattias asked evenly. “Or are you hoping I don’t ask too many questions about your past and just take your word for it. It’s hard to believe Iduna willingly abandoned her own daughter.”

Agdar’s jaw tightened.

“And,” Mattias continued, “is she actually sick or is this a cover?”

“I’m not lying to you, Mattias,” Agdar snapped, anger rising in his voice. “She is our daughter. She’s sick. And I’m not buying— I’m not buying her silence.”

Mattias studied him for a moment, then walked to the small bar in the corner. Without asking, he poured two glasses of whisky, handing one to Agdar before grabbing his own.

“So you are buying someone’s silence,” he said quietly.

Agdar inhaled sharply, feeling cornered. He hated how careless he’d been with his words. It was proof of just how much he needed Mattias’ help.

Mattias didn’t press, respecting the boundaries Agdar wasn’t ready to cross. His silence was answer enough. “All right,” he said finally, taking a slow sip. “What exactly do you need from me?”

Agdar gripped the glass tightly, staring into the amber liquid before answering. “Help me convince them this isn’t about hiding a mistake. It’s about helping someone who needs it.”

Mattias nodded slightly, lowering himself back into the chair. “If you don’t mind me asking… Why now, Agdar? After all these years.”

Agdar’s thumb traced the rim of the glass. “We found her recently. Or rather, she walked back into our lives by chance. We’ve been trying to fix our past mistakes ever since.”

“Will paying for her treatment erase those mistakes?”

“Of course not,” replied Agdar, dropping his gaze.

“Is there another way she can get the care she needs?”

“Look, Mattias, she’s seriously sick,” Agdar snapped. “I won’t let—”

“I’m not suggesting you abandon her again,” Mattias interrupted, his tone firm. “I’m asking the same questions the board will. They’ll want to know exactly who the company is funding, and why. As is, your story won’t satisfy them. You and Iduna abandoned a child, only to marry and have Anna three years later. Twenty years go by, and now, suddenly, she’s back and needs money.” Mattias sighed tiredly. “You’ve put yourself in a corner, Agdar.”

“I know. I know,” he repeated, frustration finally taking over. “But no one else can help her. It’s more than her adoptive family can afford, and I won’t let them go into debt when I have the means to help.”

“Why isn’t insurance handling this?”

“It’s complicated.”

Mattias studied him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. “You have my word, I'll do everything I can to convince them. But I need everything — dates, amounts, paperwork, all of it.”

“You have it,” Agdar said quickly.

“Good. Once we have the numbers, we’ll work on your speech. Polish it so it paints you in a better light.”

Agdar immediately began pulling documents from his briefcase, spreading them across the desk. When he glanced up again, he noticed Mattias watching him, a quiet sadness in his eyes.

“What?” Agdar asked softly.

A small smile drew on his lips. “How’s the girl? Is she stable?”

Agdar hesitated. “I suppose. I haven’t seen her yet. She’s— It’s complicated.”

Mattias held his gaze a moment longer, then gave a short nod. “Let’s start with one step at a time. You can tell me about the rest when you’re ready.”

Agdar sank into the chair, relief and dread washing over him at once.

---

The wall-tall windows flooded the table with morning light, though still the conference room felt colder and darker than expected. In front of Agdar, sharp expressions waited for him.

The board was seated around the long oak table, every member watching him, silent, expectant, as if compelling him to explain why they’d all been called. A neat stack of papers and documentation rested untouched to his side, close to where Mattias was sitting. The man remained with his arms folded, silent, respecting rank, but ready to step in if needed.

Knowing there was no point delaying the inevitable, Agdar cleared his throat.

“Before we begin, let me be clear, this is an extraordinary meeting,” he said. “While nothing substantial has changed within the company since our last session, I need to address the matter of the unusual bank transfers, as I know several of you have expressed concerns.”

That earned a few nods around the table. Douglas Jørgensen, one of the older members, cleared his throat as he tapped his pen lightly against his notepad. A small, impatient gesture Agdar was familiar with.

Agdar went on, steady but careful. “The transfers in question were authorized by me, under an internal discretionary fund.”

“For personal use?” Johan Rosenberg, seated on the opposite side of the table, asked. His tone was neutral, almost casual, but Agdar knew better. It was a measured question, one meant for him to start being more clear.

“Yes,” Agdar admitted. “The funds were for medical care for—” He paused, clearing his throat again, hating the nerves that made his voice falter. “For my daughter. She’s currently in hospital and will need treatment for the foreseeable future.”

A low murmur broke around the table. Several members exchanged glances, brows drawn in confusion.

“Anna?” asked Nora Solberg, the only woman on the board and a longtime family acquaintance. Her concern was genuine. “Is she alright? What happened?”

“Anna’s fine.” Agdar reassured the members, “given the circumstances,” he added softly. “But it’s not her I’m talking about.”

Nora frowned. “Then who?”

Agdar’s mouth opened, then closed again. The words refused to come, and he couldn’t remember what Mattias had suggested he said.

Mattias shifted beside him, placing his hands on the table and straightening back.

“With your permission,” he said, his calm voice cutting through the tension. At Agdar’s brief nod, he addressed the room. “Agdar has another daughter. Her name is Elsa Bjorgman. She’s twenty-four and is currently receiving sepsis treatment at Vitalis Health Center.”

He then searched through the documents, pulling out the medical record that contained only the essential information. Without hesitation, he slid it across the table for the rest of the members to see.

A thick silence settled over the room. Every member’s gaze moved from Mattias to the paperwork before them, then, finally, to Agdar.

Agdar met their eyes one by one, steadying himself. There was no turning back now.

“My wife and I had Elsa before we were married,” he began. “We—” He cleared his voice again. “We left her in the care of an institution we trusted and didn’t maintain contact. That was primarily my decision… and my mistake. By the time we acknowledged what we’d done, she’d been adopted, and we were denied any possibility of finding her.”

He drew a slow breath, pushing through the weight in his chest. “Less than a year ago, she came back into our lives. Since then, we’ve been doing our best to rebuild a relationship with her.”

Saying the words aloud was unexpectedly grounding. It forced him to own them and finally step into the role he should have claimed years ago.

There was a long pause for a moment. Then John Eriksen, one of the younger members, who had recently taken his late father’s seat, broke the silence.

“You’re saying,” he began slowly, “that the company has been funding medical care for a woman no one here has ever met. Someone who isn’t listed in any family documentation or contingency plans?”

“She is my daughter,” Agdar replied. His tone was guarded, not liking Eriksen’s implication.

“She might be,” Eriksen countered evenly, “but for the company, and the investors, she isn’t. She doesn’t exist.”

Before Agdar could respond, Jørgensen cut in, his deeper voice grounding the discussion before an argument could erupt. “Mattias, you mentioned sepsis, did you not? What’s wrong with her? Is this a preexisting illness or…?”

Mattias, clearly lost for words, looked at Agdar who answered in a heartbeat. “Complications arose after an accident. Nothing more. Her doctor is optimistic she’ll recover if the treatment continues.” He scanned the room, trying to gather their reactions. “All the more reason to consider allowing me this exception.”

The board fell quiet, analyzing his words, weighing their implications.

Finally, Kornall Dahl, the most pragmatic voice in the board, leaned forward. “And how long,” he asked slowly, “did you plan to keep her existence from us? Why not introduce her formally? If she were acknowledged as part of the family, her treatment would’ve been covered by the insurance, would it not?”

“I originally had no intention of involving the company in personal affairs," Agdar said carefully. “Especially since Elsa is still adjusting to the idea of having met her biological parents. You may understand this isn’t easy for her.” He hesitated, then added, “But this situation escalated quickly. I had to act. I used internal funds because I couldn’t secure access to my own assets fast enough. I take full responsibility for that decision, and I intend to repay the company the moment I’m in a position to do so.”

Taking the opportunity to draw the attention back to what was needed, Mattias stepped in. “Funding this medical care will delay a few of our latest projects. But it’s nothing we haven’t done in the past. What matters now is how we proceed. The board can choose to formalize the medical support under humanitarian sponsorship and it might not necessarily attract investors’ scrutiny.”

Eriksen leaned forward sharply. “What happens after? Shall she be regarded as your successor?”

Agdar frowned, but Mattias was the first to respond. “That’s not what we’re discussing.”

Eriksen continued, ignoring him, “I’m sure I’m not the only one wondering what will happen after this, am I?” He asked, looking around at his peers. “She could have a say in the company. Investors will wonder what happens now. They trust Anna’s reliability. This woman’s however—”

“Elsa.” Agdar corrected, his eyes narrowing. 

“Right. Elsa.” Eriksen corrected himself tiredly. “She could become a problem later on. In your absence, she could demand her share. The company can’t cover that without selling part of the plant or the more advanced projects.”

“Anna is still the designated successor,” Agdar said firmly. “Elsa has no interest in the business.”

“That’s what you want to believe,” Eriksen shot back. “You’re looking at this through rose-tinted glasses. If she chooses to claim her rights, we have to comply. The stock market will react to this sooner or later.”

“I agree with Eriksen,” Jørgensen said, his tone calmer but no less serious. “This changes how the company’s perceived. Once employees hear about this, it’ll spread. The values we’ve promoted for years will come under scrutiny one way or another.”

“Then we manage it,” Mattias said with conviction. “We can’t pretend she doesn’t exist because it’s inconvenient. If we respect Agdar’s private life and control how the information circulates, it doesn’t have to become public knowledge. And if it does, we’ll frame it for what it is: the company supporting someone in need. That’s the narrative we hold onto.”

“The press might be interested in knowing the full story if it becomes public knowledge.” Nora commented, pointing out the risks.

Agdar inhaled deeply. “Then I’ll face it. This company was built on responsibility and family values.”

Nora leaned back slowly, studying him, then gave a small nod. “Let us see the figures,” she said finally, “as well as the projects that would have to be postponed. We’ll take a full board vote before noon.”

Agdar nodded once, placing a steady hand over the stack of documents beside him. “Here’s everything you need to review.”

---

The conference room had mostly emptied, but the air around Agdar still felt heavy. The tension remained, like smoke that refused to clear. There were low hums of lingering comments as the last members of the board picked up their things and made their way out.

Agdar remained seated at the head of the table, shoulders slumped against the leather chair, the transcript of the meeting lying open before him. Selma, his secretary, had left it there before heading out to start preparing some necessary paperwork after the meeting. He had read it twice already, yet his eyes kept wandering back to the same few sentences, as though repeating them would somehow make them easier to carry.

The board had agreed to cover Elsa’s treatment. Some members had been reluctant, but none had dared to vote against it in the end. They all accepted the same truth: denying a young woman medical care was inexcusable.

Still, their approval came at a cost. Two conditions, both of which Agdar had agreed to, though one unsettled him more than he wanted to admit.

The first was transparency. It sounded simple enough in their words — fair even. But it was a lot more difficult to put into practice than they imagined. Their request was for Elsa to now be formally acknowledged as a member of the founding family on paper. They could guarantee for the insurance to cover any future medical needs as long as the documentation was in order. It was logical and sensible. And yet, Agdar’s chest tightened as he thought of what it’d mean for Elsa. Would she understand the necessity or would she see it as a deceiving way to force her back into the family?

The second condition was far worse. Disengagement. The word alone hit him like a punch to the gut. He knew exactly what it meant. Sooner or later, Elsa would have to sign a carefully worded agreement. They’d ask her to give up any right to the business, her name neatly erased from succession and ownership records, despite the previous acknowledgement of her existence.

The more he read those words, the sicker he felt. He had agreed to convince her to sign it. The thought made his hand clench against the armrest until his knuckles turned white. In other words, he had agreed to disown her.

The only two people who had stayed behind didn’t speak. They simply watched him as he stared down at the transcript, letting the silence sit until Agdar finally lowered the pages and met their eyes.

Nora and Mattias had known his family longer than most. Nora, always composed, had returned to the company after Runeard’s death and had since become one of Agdar’s closest confidants on the board. Mattias, steady and loyal in ways Agdar didn’t deserve. They had both stayed to keep him company, knowing he wasn’t taking it well.

Nora slid a chair closer, resting her elbows on the polished table, while Mattias leaned against the tall window, arms crossed.

“I suppose congratulations are in order,” Nora said softly. “The vote went your way.”

“Barely,” he murmured, his fingers tapping a restless rhythm on the armsrest.

“Still,” Mattias added, his voice steady, “a win is a win. Your daughter will receive the care she needs.”

They let the words settle for a moment before Nora leaned forward, folding her arms on the table.

“I’ve known you a long time, Agdar. I knew your father, too.” Her tone shifted, her words measured. “This is how Runeard would’ve handled things.”

Agdar’s lips tightened. “I know, but it doesn’t make it right.”

“It wasn’t a compliment,” Nora said, sternly. “This is the kind of decision he would have made. Not you.”

“I had to meet them halfway,” Agdar replied, his voice low, defensive despite himself. “I need to have everything in order by tomorrow.”

“You said Elsa wants nothing to do with the company,” Mattias said carefully. “If that’s true, then disengagement might not be as bad as it looks. Or is that just what you’re hoping for?”

Agdar shook his head, rubbing his forehead. “She doesn’t know the first thing about stocks or boardrooms… I don’t think she wants this. She wants nothing to do with me.”

Nora studied him for a long moment before asking, more gently, “So you think she’ll sign?”

He hesitated, then exhaled. “She’ll sign if it means I stay out of her life.” The words tasted bitter. “But this—” He pushed the transcript away from him. “This was the only thing I could actually give her. I didn’t give her my name. I didn’t give her the life she deserved. And now I’m stripping her of her birthright?” He paused, his throat tightening. “Anna and Iduna will never forgive me.”

Nora and Mattias exchanged a pained look, but neither spoke. Business advice had always come easily to them; family matters, on the other hand, were different.

Mattias cleared his throat softly. Desperate to shift the focus to something other than Agdar’s past mistakes, he asked, “What’s she like?”

Agdar blinked at the unexpected question and leaned back in his chair, thinking about the question. “She’s withdrawn,” he finally said. “Quiet. She doesn’t trust easily. But she isn’t unkind. Just… guarded.” His brow furrowed, his voice softening. “She’s a good person. Kinder than she has any reason to be, after everything she’s been through.” He swallowed hard. “I can’t believe I keep making things worse for her.”

“She’s still young,” Nora said gently. “She’s survived this far without you, Agdar. She’ll manage. You’re helping her now — the only way you can.”

Agdar gave a small nod, though it looked more like resignation than agreement.

Mattias pushed himself off the wall and slipped his suit coat back on. “For what it’s worth,” he said, choosing to stay with the glass half full, “I’m glad the vote passed. I wouldn’t have slept tonight knowing we’d turned our backs on her.”

Agdar nodded and rose from his seat, walking them both to the door.

“If she’s anything like what you’ve described,” Nora said as she stepped out, “I hope we meet her someday.”

He watched them go, the silence returning as soon as the door clicked shut behind them.

Agdar stood there for a moment, motionless, before his gaze fell back to the papers scattered on the table. With a tired sigh, he sat down again, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He buried his face in his hands, trying to hide the shame that was threatening to consume him.

Ever since Anna had first come to him, explaining what the Bjorgmans needed at the hospital, he’d felt — for the first time in years — that he was doing something right. Signing those authorizations, sending those funds… Each action felt like stitching together a small piece of the past, helping put together what he had once torn apart. But now, all he could think about was that it wasn’t only the past he had taken from her, it was her future as well.

Every act of help came attached to a cost. A cost Elsa didn’t even know she was paying.

That truth broke something in him. His eyes brimmed with tears and, this time, he didn’t hold them back. He sat there, silent and trembling, haunted by the realization that he was becoming a mirror of his father. And he despised it.

He hoped that someday, somehow, he’d make it alright.

---

A different chapter, but one I was eager to write.

I had planned just one scene from Agdar’s POV, but I ended up liking the idea of showing the whole meeting. I hope I haven’t bored you with so much business stuff. I think it was worth showing what this domino effect is causing.

Also, I’ve been reviewing my notes and realized I might tweak a few things. I’ll finish Søsken as planned, but so many new plot ideas came up during this story that I’m already considering a sequel. What I’m trying to say is, sorry in advance! LOL

I hope you enjoy this chapter. Let me know what you think.

I’ll try my best to get up to date with my replies and comments. I apologise to all of you who have left so many lovely reviews and I haven’t replied yet. I read every single one of them and I love them! I’ll get back to you, I promise.

Read you all soon!

----

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

She felt proud her father had given her his undivided attention the previous day, when she had asked to talk to him in private. Anna then explained Elsa needed his help and, following Kristoff’s suggestion, she kept all the small details for him to discuss with Kai. It had only taken a few minutes to convince her father that the clinic needed a down payment to continue with Elsa’s treatment —given her delicate health condition. And to her good luck, Agdar hadn't asked too many questions, promising to go talk to Kai as soon as he informed the board about the family emergency and got a partial approval. True to his word, the next day he was at the clinic in the early afternoon, discussing Elsa’s health with Kai and coming to what she believed was a favourable agreement. He’d pay for Elsa’s treatment, taking the load off Kai and Gerda’s shoulders.

“No need to give anything back,” Agdar said with a small tight smile. Regardless of their agreement and knowing he could finally start helping his daughter, he knew there was nothing to be truly happy about. Elsa was still unresponsive.

“It’s a lot of money…” reminded Kai, uncomfortable about the enormous favour he was asking.

“We'll have to delay a few projects and make some cuts,” Agdar explained. “ArenCo will manage nonetheless. It's nothing we haven't done in the past.” Placing his hand on Kai’s shoulder, he reassured him the money was Elsa’s, no need to pay it back. “I've denied my daughter the help she needs for far too long. Don't worry about the money.”

Smiling in return, Kai nodded with a faint, “Thank you.”

Smiling at the scene unfolding in front of her, Anna hoped Elsa could see them at that moment as well. Sure, her sister still had her reservations about her biological parents —about their father in particular— but thankfully he was proving how much he did care.

“There's only one thing I don’t understand,” Agdar said, pulling Anna back to their conversation. “Why is the payment so urgent? Anna insisted it couldn’t wait.” Looking over his shoulder, her father found her gaze expecting her to confirm what he was saying.

Anna opened her mouth to explain the situation better, but Kai beat her to it.

“It's a delicate matter. I was hoping we could discuss it in private. With Dr Nielsen, as well as Kristoff and Anna.” Kai then turned to Idunn who had been standing by Anna’s side in silence ever since the two families had met. “You’re welcome to join us too, Idunn.”

Idunn glanced up and took a second to think about his offer. “Umm… Kai, I was hoping–” She looked down, wringing her hands, unsure of what to say. “Anna has told me they’re being quite restrictive with the visits but… Would it be possible for me to see her?”

From the moment Elsa had been admitted to the hospital, Idunn had been dying to get the chance to see her. Always asking Anna if there existed the possibility of her being allowed inside the ICU. All she wanted was to sit by Elsa’s side and talk to her at least once. Finally getting the chance to say everything she had ever wanted, even when Elsa couldn’t hear her. The idea of waking up one day, only to realise it was too late to make amends terrified her mother. And with every passing day, Anna knew she was becoming more and more afraid of never getting one that last chance. So, the moment Anna saw her mother walk into the clinic that day, she knew it was only a matter of time until she asked Kai or Nielsen to see Elsa. Yet, now that she had the chance, Anna could see the doubt and uncertainty consuming her.

“We'll need to ask Nielsen,” Kai said. “Perhaps he’ll allow you to.”

Idunn nodded as she anxiously tried to smooth the invisible wrinkles of her dress. “Is she all alone in there?”

“No.” A small smile formed on Kai’s lips as he paid a quick look to the door that led to the wards. “My wife’s been by her side from the very beginning.”

A watery smile drew on Idunn’s face. “I’m glad.”

Turning his attention back to their main conversation, Kai addressed Agdar once again. “Anna mentioned something about a good legal team working for you, is that correct?”

“There's one working for us at the company, yes.” Her father’s seriousness told Anna he was more than willing to ask the legal team to start working on anything that was needed. “What’s going on, Kai?”

“Dr Nielsen will be here any minute now. He's checking on Elsa as we speak. I'll explain everything as soon as we can discuss things with him.”

Her father agreed, and she knew there wasn’t much to do than wait for Nielsen after that. Deciding it was best to go for a short stroll before their meeting, Anna walked to where Kristoff was sitting and gently informed him she was going out to get some fresh air. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t have minded staying. She would have talked to her mother or found excuses for both families to bond. But this time, the situation was anything but normal and staying still only made her more anxious.

Looking up in concern, he asked, “Is everything okay?”

She smiled and nodded. “I just need to move my legs.” She kissed his cheek reassuringly and left the room in silence.

---

Truth be told, she could barely tolerate being inside the small room. It was where they had stayed after receiving the news about Elsa a week before, and the place they had awaited every medical report they’ve got ever since. It was more comfortable than the hall leading straight to the unit, but it didn’t mean Anna liked it any better. More than once they had shared the room with other families, who just like them, were sleep deprived and hoping for positive medical reports. The only thing she saw inside that damn room were long faces and hopelessness. Not wanting to think about that anymore, she hurried down the hallway and into the main waiting room.

“No, you listen to me.”

Anna heard an angry man say as she walked into the now crowded place. The voice was coming from Andrea’s desk, and Anna didn’t need to see the face of the man to know it was no other than Marshall. She had gotten used to his frustrated tone of voice by now, and she was certain the receptionist had too. This time, however, he sounded hostile and more aggressive than he had in the last week. Wanting to make sure things didn’t spiral out of control, she decided to go see what was going on.

“I've been coming here for the past week, day after day, asking time and time again to see her. You can't tell me no when I clearly saw the two of them walk in.” Marshall had both hands on the receptionist’s desk, leaning forward and making the poor receptionist deeply uncomfortable. Andrea tried in vain to put some distance between them and Anna knew it was only a matter of time until she called security to escort Marshall out.

Anna was curious as to what had finally driven him over the edge, though it was best to put a stop to it and then ask than to see a disaster unfold in front of her. Grabbing Marshall’s good arm, Anna forced him away from the desk.

“Marshall, what do you think you're doing?” Glancing in Andrea’s direction, she offered her an apologetic smile. “Excuse him, Andrea.”

Frowning at her for a split second, Marshall tried to pull his arm from Anna’s grasp. “Get away, Anna.”

She was able to hold his wrist firmly and called his name again. When he didn’t pay attention, she tried once more, this time, appealing to his emotional side. “Marshmallow, please.”

“Don’t– Don’t call me that,” he said, clearly displeased.

Anna took a step back, startled by his reaction, letting go of his arm. This seemed to bring Marshall back to his senses, finally taking a step back and turning in Anna’s direction.

“They keep telling me I can't see her.” He was trying to stay calm, but Anna could see he was failing miserably, making the people around them uncomfortable. “Always the same excuse!”

“I know you're frustrated,” Anna said in a lower tone of voice, expecting him to listen and understand they could discuss whatever was going on more quietly. “But this isn’t the receptionist's fault. Only family members are allowed inside. You know that.”

Part of her was confident he’d calm down once he was reminded of that fact. She had been expecting him to say he already knew, like he had done a few times before. However, what she hadn’t been expecting was for him to look daggers at her as she was the one to blame.

“I saw your parents walk in.” He spat, surprising Anna.

Anna gaped at him unsure of what to say. She couldn’t really understand why her parents being there was reason enough for him to get so mad. “They're family,” she muttered.

“No, Anna,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “They are not.”

The way he towered over her, glowering, made Anna realise how truly intimidating he could be. But she wouldn’t let that stop her from talking some sense into him. “I thought Elsa told you about us. My family is—”

“She did,” he said, interrupting her. “I know the two of you are related. I know you're sisters. That doesn't mean your parents are part of her family.”

Not understanding the logic behind his words, Anna couldn't help but crack a smile. “That's exactly what it means. They're family.”

“No, that's what you want them to be.” He took a step closer and Anna couldn’t stop herself from taking one backwards. “Your parents have no right to call themselves family all of a sudden.”

The way he kept glaring at her gave Anna the impression that no matter what she said, he wouldn’t change his mind. Her best bet was trying to show him she understood what he was going through. “Marshall, look, I know you've been coming here everyday. Trust me, I know how frustrating it is, but—”

Marshall groaned, exasperated. “Elsa wouldn't want them visiting.”

“You don't know that.” Now Anna was getting irritated. Marshall was entitled to his own opinion, it didn’t mean it was the right one.

“Yes, I do,” he said, lowering his voice. Anna guessed he had finally noticed the rest of the people in the waiting room, all staring at them. “She doesn't trust your parents.” He took another step closer and poked her shoulder. “The only reason she ever gave them a chance is you.” 

Anna glared back and slapped his hand away. “My parents are helping her right now. They've got the right to see her.”

“She's told them time and time again she doesn't want to see them,” Marshall scoffed. “As soon as she's unconscious they walk all over her wishes, I see.”

“Marshall—”

“I can't believe Kai and Gerda agreed to this,” he continued, ignoring what she had to say. “I can't believe you agreed to this. Elsa trusts you!”

“I— You’re getting it all wrong.” Anna was at loss for words. What he was saying was getting to her, and she wasn’t sure how to explain everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. “You talk as if I'm doing something terrible to her.”

“It baffles me you don’t see it!” Marshall shouted, startling Anna and everyone around.

Unable to hold his gaze, she looked around. A man, a couple of years older than her father, wouldn't take his eyes off Marshall, ready to intervene in case it was needed. Anna then noticed Andrea had already stood up from her desk and she was holding a phone’s headset to her ear. It was a matter of time until someone came to walk them both out of the building and Anna couldn't let that happen. She knew he was probably just taking his frustration out on her and he would regret being blacklisted.

“The least you could do now is respect her wishes,” Marshall kept talking, ignoring everything that was going on around them. “She loves you so much she chose to ignore the pain your parents have caused her just to make you happy. But that wasn’t enough for you, was it?”

She felt a sudden pang of guilt and she tried to speak up, but no words came out as she felt her throat tightening. Was he truly talking out of frustration, or was he finally speaking his mind? ‘Or Elsa's mind?’  she wondered, the uncertainty making her shudder.

Marshall took her silence as an answer and a new wave of anger ripped through him. “You kept pushing. And pushing. And pushing. All you wanted was for Elsa to forgive them, to make your family happy, even when you knew she was miserable.”

Anna’s eyes brimmed with unshed tears and she instinctively took another step back.

“I know Elsa’s never been truly happy,” he admitted with bitter sadness. “I’m not going to pretend that’s the case. But she wasn’t this miserable until your parents walked into her life.”

“She said that?” Anna managed to ask in a quavering voice.

“I may not have known about her po—” Marshall stopped abruptly, finally aware they were surrounded by strangers. Most of whom were paying close attention to their conversation and whatever he chose to do next. He looked around and after making up his mind, he took one more step and leaned in closer to Anna, whispering, “I may not have known about her powers, but it doesn't mean I don't know her.”

By the time he finished speaking, the man who had previously been staring stood up and gently asked Marshall to give Anna some space. To Anna’s surprise, Marshall did take a few steps back, even when he glared at the meddling man. Only a moment later, a man wearing a white shirt with the clinic's emblem approached them as well. He ignored Marshall and made sure Anna was okay before he asked if she needed him to escort Marshall outside.

Ignoring the staff-member and the old man, Marshall found her gaze once again and said, “You and your parents are crossing the line, Anna.”

Anna ignored the men as well. She didn’t need them to stand up for her. All she needed was for Marshall to listen and perhaps talk things through in a less crowded place. “Marshall, you don't understand—”

“No.” He shook his head, stopping whatever she had to say. “You don't understand. It's sickening to think I've been in Elsa's life far longer than her biological parents have ever had; yet, somehow, I'm the one who’s not allowed to see her. Not allowed to say goodbye.”

Although he mumbled the last part, Anna and the men standing between them heard him clearly. What he said, combined with the raw pain in his eyes, finally helped Anna understand his anger and resentment. Marshall was not only mad at her family and the rules in place. He was afraid. He was starting to lose hope and Anna couldn’t take it. Anna’s stomach was in knots and, once again, try as she might, there was nothing she could say to lessen his heartache as the anxiety and fear for her sister’s life consumed her.

Placing a comforting hand on Marshall’s shoulder, the man in the white shirt said, “Sir, perhaps it’d be better for you to get some fresh air.” His cautious look now morphing into a compassionate one.

“Let go— “ Marshall said, annoyed at the man, moving his arm away from him. Anna knew he couldn't stand the pity look the men were giving him, making him over react once again.

Just as the staff-member was about to talk, a familiar voice called their names. “Is there a problem?” Kristoff said as he approached them.

“No, there isn't,” Marshall said loud enough for everyone who had been interested in the scene to hear.

Anna watched him walk away, and once again the pang of guilt constricted her throat, barely allowing her to breathe. Before she realised, the tears she'd been holding back began streaming down her face.

“Hey,” Kristoff said, engulfing her in his arms. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” She nodded against his chest and in vain tried to dry her tears. “Don't worry.”

Kristoff took a hard look at her, then the people around them and finally at the door through which Marshall had disappeared. “Whenever I think he's finally learning how to behave around people, he shows the kind of moron he is. I don't understand what Elsa sees in him.”

“He loves her,” Anna mumbled, as she hugged Kristoff tight, feeling thankful for his presence.

“So do you and I,” he said with contempt.

Anna nodded, but didn't say anything. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t completely agree with Kristoff this time. Marshall had successfully planted the seed of doubt in Anna, and she couldn’t help but feel as if she was in fact breaking Elsa's trust.

Kristoff thanked the men for stepping in, and then apologised to Andrea for the inconvenience. To Anna's surprise, instead of blaming Marshall like he'd have done in the past, Kristoff explained the last few days were finally catching up with all of them and begged Andrea not to kick Marshall out next time.

With things calmer around them, Kristoff walked Anna outside and asked her about their argument. Anna shook her head, not wanting to discuss it with anyone. The last thing she needed was for Kristoff to find reason behind Marshall's words like she did, and for him to realise they were making a terrible mistake. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does. I’ll talk to him if you need me to.”

“No, Kristoff. It doesn’t matter.” Before he could insist, Anna decided it was best to change the topic. “Has Nielsen met our parents?” 

Kristoff stayed silent for a short moment, debating what to do. After a minute, he breathed out and nodded. “Kai told me to get you and wait for them at the café. They don’t want to discuss things in the hospital.”

---

The door leading to the ICU closed behind Idunn and only then she breathed out with relief. Until then, she had been afraid the medical staff would suddenly change their mind and she wouldn’t be allowed to see Elsa after all.

She had been told to wait for a nurse to come get her and she didn’t plan to move from that spot until they did. The last thing she needed was entering a room or area she wasn’t supposed to, when Nielsen had been clear about the staff making an expectation for her to visit — given the circumstances.

As she waited, she wondered what she’d find once she walked into Elsa's room. The last time she had seen her daughter, Elsa looked thin and fragile. Like she hadn’t been taking proper care of herself. It made Idunn wonder how many things she had been dealing with, only for Agdar and herself to make things worse the day they met. No matter how hard she tried, Idunn couldn’t get rid of Elsa’s words during their last conversation. Elsa had not only admitted needing her mother more than anything, she had also confessed suffering more than they could imagine. Her words were on repeat in Idunn’s mind. Taunting her and showing her she was responsible for everything that had ever gone wrong in Elsa’s life.

Even this, she realised regretfully. If she had only stopped Agdar on time. If she had only taken Elsa to the ER instead of trying to get Elsa to like her; then, perhaps, her daughter wouldn’t be on the brink of death now.

She was so absorbed in her own thoughts, it took a moment for Idunn to realise a nurse had been standing in front of her for half a minute, waiting for a reply. She apologised and nodded her head when the young woman checked her name on the clipboard in her hands. When everything was set, they began walking down the hall at a faster pace than Idunn would have liked. There were so many questions she wanted to ask about her daughter and so little time. But as they moved past the doors in the unit, Idunn became more afraid of the answers she could get, desisting finally of her idea. The nurse continued walking until they got to the end of the hall.

The last room in the unit. Away from everyone else. Forgotten.

The thought alone made Idunn’s chest feel heavy and she had a hard time trying to understand what the young woman was explaining.

The young woman explained she was only allowed to remain inside the room during visiting hours and she was to leave the room if a family member requested her to do so. Idunn nodded in agreement, hiding the pain of not being allowed to see her daughter for as long as she wanted. But then again, she had lost the privilege years before.

When the nurse left, Idunn drew in one more deep shaky breath, gathering her thoughts before she grabbed the handle. Slowly, trying to bother the people inside, she opened the door just a crack. The first thing she saw was Gerda, sitting by Elsa's bedside. Eyes closed, the older woman rested her forehead on her clasped hands which were holding onto Elsa's. Opening the door a bit wider, Elsa's face came into view and only then she realised it didn’t matter how long she had to wrap her mind around the idea. Finally seeing Elsa’s pale form, connected to more machines and wires than she had imagined, made her stomach turn. Her heart constricted painfully and for a moment she couldn’t breath nor move.

Gerda raised her head slowly, opening her eyes and looking at Elsa, unaware of Idunn’s presence. She caressed Elsa’s hand with her thumb and a sad smile drew on her face.

“You know, there'll still be a tomorrow even if you choose to leave.” Gerda’s voice, barely over a whisper, got Idunn’s attention. “It ain’t gonna stop the world… but I think it'll be the end of mine.”

The sorrow in Gerda's voice made the situation too painful, too real. And for the first time since that night, when she abandoned Elsa, Idunn felt as if someone was ripping her heart out. She imagined she’d never feel the way she felt back then, until now.

“I know it’s unfair —selfish of me— to ask you this, but…” Gerda said, as one of her hands let go of Elsa’s to dry a lonesome tear running down her cheek. “Please, dear. Don't go.” The hand returned to its original position and she held Elsa’s hand a bit tighter. “I know you're tired and I understand why it'd be easier to just let yourself go. But I need you. I'm not as strong as you are. I—” She breathed out, tiredly. “What would I say to Kristoff?”

Unable to deal with the aching pain in her chest, Idunn tried to hold back a sob and close the door, hoping to give Gerda some privacy, but the sudden movement caught the old woman’s attention and she turned to look at the door, their gazes finally meeting.

“I didn't mean to interrupt,” Idunn blurted out as best as she could. “It's— I didn't know what to do. I'm sorry.”

“It's okay,” Gerda murmured. “Kai told me your husband or you might stop by.” She let go of Elsa’s hand and looked at her watch, surprised to see it was already time for visiting hours. She tried in vain to blink away the tears and stood up. “Is Agdar waiting outside?”

“No.” Idunn shook her head and silently hoped Gerda didn’t feel pressured to leave. “He's in a meeting with Kai and Elsa's doctor… Uhm—”

“Nielsen.”

“Yes.” She regretted not paying more attention to the names of the people who were doing everything to help Elsa.

“What about Anna and Kristoff?” Gerda asked, sitting once again by Elsa’s side, unsure of what else to do.

“They're with them as well. I don't understand what's going on, but it seemed urgent.”

Gerda nodded. “I don't have all the details yet. They said it’d be best for me to look after Elsa instead of worrying about it. Come in,” she offered at last, inviting Idunn into the room with a hand gesture.

Idunn did as told and she walked until she was standing at the foot of the bed, keeping her distance from the machines. “She looks so pale,” she murmured, unable to keep her voice from shaking.

Both women stayed quiet for several minutes after that. The heavy silence that fell between them was only interrupted by the beeping noises of the machines. The minutes stretched and Idunn felt as if they were running out of air inside the small room.

After twenty minutes, which felt like an hour, Idunn decided it was best to break the silence. The only thing Gerda had done during that time was hold onto Elsa’s hand, and something told her she’d like a distraction or the opportunity to move her legs.

“Please don't take this the wrong way, Gerda.” Idunn said, hoping she wouldn’t be overstepping. “I could stay with her for the next hour if you need. You look awfully tired.”

“I'm not leaving her,” Gerda answered with a frown.

Only then, Idunn realised how stupid what she had just said truly was. The woman had been looking after Elsa for over a week. It was more than obvious she already knew how she looked and how tired she was. But even then, Idunn felt bad and wished she would take a moment. Breathe some fresh air at least.

“I don't think she'd mind you taking a short break.”

“I can't selfishly beg her to stay.” Tired eyes looking up to meet Idunn’s gaze. “Only to leave her alone a moment after, Idunn.”

Choosing it was best to drop the subject, Idunn looked at Elsa’s left hand. It was slightly raised and covered in bandages. It seemed surreal that that small injury could be the cause of her current state. “Her hand's getting better from what I heard.” Kai had told her so before Nielsen met them in the waiting room. “Why isn't she recovering?”

“Her body is fighting more than just her hand’s infection. She has a hard time breathing and now her kidneys are failing. Her blood pressure needs to go up before we can even think of pulling her out of the coma.”

“Will she have permanent damage?” Idunn was terrified of the answer. Elsa had struggled her whole life with her powers getting in the way. Dealing with physical or mental damage on top of that would certainly be more than she could handle.

“Only time can tell,” Gerda said, her eyes filling up with tears. “It all depends on her.”

“She's strong,” Idunn said with conviction. “She'll make it.”

As Gerda shook her head, Idunn felt her throat constricting. “I fear she might see no reason to keep fighting…”

“What do you mean?”

“Elsa's soul is older than mine. She's endured too much and…” Taking a deep breath, Gerda tried to make up her mind. “Lately she's been losing—” She stopped again, unsure if it was right to share what she was about to say with Idunn. “She’s started to wonder if it's all worth it.”

---

As soon as the words left her mouth, Gerda realised trusting Idunn with the way Elsa felt about life had been a mistake. From the moment Idunn had walked into the room, Gerda could tell it was hard for her to face the truth of what was happening to Elsa. Gerda couldn’t blame her for it, everyone in the family had had a difficult time coming to terms with it, but she did wonder why she’d put herself through it when she could barely look at the girl in the bed. It was no surprise then, that with every new piece of information she began to crumble until the weight of it all was too much for her to handle. Idunn was nothing but a crying mess now that she knew the truth and despite the way she felt about the Arendelles, Gerda considered it was necessary for her to do or say something that could help the younger woman. Though, before she could make up her mind on what to say, Idunn surprised her by suddenly pulling herself together.

“I wanted to thank you for loving and caring for Elsa the way you do.” Idun’s voice cracked and she pressed the heel of her hands to her eyes to stop her tears. “I understand seeing her like this must be as difficult for you as it is for me, still you manage to stay strong. I don’t know how you do it.”

“No,” she said firmly. “You may think it’s the same, but no.” Gerda tried to focus on the good side, the positive thing Idunn was trying to say; but try as she may, she couldn’t do it.

Idunn blinked a few times, unsure of what she meant, and once again Gerda tried to make an effort to remain calm, hoping to find the right words before she spoke. “Seeing Elsa like this is not—” She took a deep breath, and started over. “When I see Elsa, all I see is the malnourished little girl I met over ten years ago. The little girl who somehow found comfort in my arms and begged me to stay… who still to this day begs me to. I see the daughter life once took from me, and the one I fear will be taken from me again. So, no, Idunn, I don’t think it is.”

Idunn’s jaw dropped and her eyes widened, unsure of what to say.

“I’m not saying you feel no pain,” Gerda clarified. The fact she was feeling heartbroken didn’t erase whatever Idunn was feeling. “I’m sure the guilt and regret must be eating you up alive in moments like this, but when night comes and the day is done, you go back home and I’m the one who stays to try and put back together what's left of her.”

Just as Gerda finished speaking, Frida, one of the nurses who worked in Elsa’s recovery, opened the door, calling their attention. “Gerda, I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said with an apologetic smile. “Mr Bjorgman and Dr Nielsen are asking for you.”

“Tell Kai I’ll meet them later,” Gerda said, not turning to look at her. Her eyes fixed on nothing but Elsa.

“They said it’s urgent,” the nurse insisted, knowing Nielsen would send her back to get her if Gerda didn’t come out.

“More urgent than Elsa?” Gerda scoffed, not believing there was something more important at that moment. She was aware how serious their current situation was. She couldn’t blame her husband for needing her to meet them. After all, they were discussing the next step to take. But her role was to look after Elsa, make sure she didn’t become a test subject to those bastards in charge.

“I– I don’t know what to say,” said Frida. “They just asked me to—”

Gerda knew the girl wouldn’t stop insisting. She had worked under Nielsen’s instructions during her time at the hospital, and she knew he could be a pain when things didn’t go his way.

“This better be important,” she murmured and stood up with a weary sigh. She looked at her daughter and then where Idunn was still standing. The woman’s head was hanging low and she didn’t seem to be aware of the nurse’s presence. “I know now doesn’t seem like the right time to ask you a favour,” Gerda said, calling her attention. “But… Could you stay with her until visiting hours are over, please? I promised I wouldn't leave her alone.”

“Of course,” Idunn said, her voice barely over a whisper.

With a heavy feeling in her stomach, Gerda brushed a few strands away from Elsa’s face. “I’ll be back soon, dear.” She smiled sadly at her and gave her a short kiss on her forehead before she followed the nurse out of the room.

---

Gerda’s words and the chapter’s title were inspired by the homonymous song: It don’t matter to the sun by Rosie Thomas.

I want to apologise for not answering your reviews sooner. I’ve read them all and I loved each one of them, but I didn’t have too much time in my hands to reply. Now that the new chapter is out, I’ll take the time to get back to all of you. Rest assured I really appreciate every word, comment and reaction you guys have sent my way.

Originally, this chapter was going to have two (or three) scenes more. I changed my mind yesterday when I realised that would push the update for at least another week. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

Take care. --

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