Epilogue

The strain of producing new life does tax so. Elsa finds it makes one want to go out and do something very tender and protective, like conjure an icy fortress complete with abominable snow-beast the moment someone suggests anything displeasing, as Hans is.

"The entire family will be there. His entire kingdom - "

"I cannot abide a sea journey to the kingdom of Atlantica . Such a thing would be altogether deleterious," Elsa drawls. She presses a hand to the apex of her rather bulbous abdomen, curving slowly to accentuate her point. Her hand halts when something hard and boney, likely a tiny foot, protrudes back at her. The babe won't stop squirming, making this conversation all the more awkward because she can't concentrate. Elsa fears the babe is in cahoots with Hans. She presses back, adoring that she can interact with the babe in this manner. The babe move a centimeter and kicks again. Elsa smile is small and fond.

She glances up to find Hans giving her a rather flat look.

Fine. Elsa is reduced to calling a spade a spade.

"Transformation to a mermaid doesn't sound appealing. Hans. I'm huge. You really want to be seen with a pregnant whale?"

"Ye - No!" Hans backpedals ridiculously fast. "You are absolutely not huge, you don't even look pregnant from behind." Elsa distantly wonders what makes Hans think that argument is even valid. He continues with the utmost sincerity, "I want to be seen with the woman I love. She is truly the most exquisitely gorgeous creature anyone has ever laid eyes upon."

At that Elsa groans, and Hans finally concedes to address the issue, "So you happen to be heavy with child - that makes you all the more beautiful. Ravishingly so."

Elsa presses her tongue to the back of clenched teeth, working out how to to say, it feels inappropriate for a woman in my condition to bear that much flesh - mermaids wear next to nothing. But she can't make out how to phrase it such that she doesn't insult an entire culture - that of her unborn child's ancestors. Ugh.

"Two hundred years, Elsa. Grandfather has been ruling for two hundred years." Hans reminds her.

"Yes. I understand the significance of that. That isn't the problem."

Hans sighs, comes beside her and wraps her in his arms. His hands almost restlessly search her belly for long moment for the babe - his breath hitching as he finds an elbow or something scooting along by her naval. Hans stops his hand and presses his palm to feel. His breath is atrociously hot against her skin, so sensitive these days. She won't complain, however. He makes her feel as if she's a goddess, adoring her like something divine.

Hans kisses her neck, his smile smeared to her skin as he murmurs, "You'd be far from the first female to be a mermaid and pregnant. It is a beautifully natural state that is just as miraculous to merpeople as it is to humans."

Elsa allows her head to drop back, her eyes fluttering closed. She draws a cleansing breath, controlled with the rise and fall of her chest, because damn Hans and his ability to pursued.

"Okay."

And so it is that Elsa finds the ocean is crisp in May; it has a bite refreshing and welcome after the first run of unseasonably hot days in Arendelle. Just perfect for King Triton's bicentennial jubilee celebration - an historic occasion demanding the honor of Elsa's presence at Hans' side for the undersea festivities. Or so Elsa reminds herself for the umpteenth time.

It's been a day under the sea and she still feels a fool. As if on display, a curiosity. One for all of King Triton's court to see - the Snow Queen of Arendelle and her merman King Consort.

Talk of the significance Triton's jubilee holds has been practically overshadowed by speculation the potential magical powers Triton's unborn great-grandchild may yield, part icy sorceress and part siren, destined for the throne of Arendelle by right of blood and birth.

Hans catches wind of the chatter (magical mathematics) almost immediately, confiding privately to Elsa, "We may be in trouble if our little one actually does possess magic. Imagine a male in puberty possessing power and firm knowledge that his parents are idiots."

Should or shouldn't the child have magic has always been the elephant in the room - never actually discussed.

"Excuse me?" Elsa is genuinely bewildered by this. Why now, and because what?

"My Father was faced thirteen times with an age fifteen Prince who possessed the sure knowledge that his parents knew nothing about anything." Hans says in way of explication, rather ruefully. "The horror should one of us have actually had the capacity to demonstrate how stupid we truly were, is immense."

There is not a trace of humor in his voice. Elsa finds that terrifying.

Elsa has been watching Melody shamelessly flirting with a handsome merman, one with dark eyes and a warm smile. He seems receptive enough, but it may be simply due to Melody's station. "Or an girl infatuated with the impulsivity and power to take what she wants."

Hans pales further. "Not funny."

(They subsequently agree not to think on it any further, and simply tune-out any speculation. Mostly because there is no going back now. The babe is to be welcomed any day, magic or not.)

Festivities continue, the pomp and circumstance of the illustrious Sea-King's anniversary. Aquatic creatures swim effortlessly, in synchrony to music all around, adding to the insult Elsa feels.

At present, Elsa is trying desperately to fight the warmth flooding her cheeks as she comes to terms with the fact that although she may be the size of a whale - she can't seem to swim independently like one regardless of how much practice she gets.

Elsa glares at Hans as she heels once more.

"You really are too hard on yourself. You're doing brilliantly."

Elsa scowls.

Hans is enjoying this far too much, helping her swim.

"I'm far from a delicate china doll."

Hans ignores her. "You'll get this...it takes a little practice." At least he doesn't sounds as if he speaks to a simpleton.

"Just let me go beach myself already," Elsa grumbles as she overcorrects, this time listing slightly.

"Once again, stop drawing similarities to yourself and a whale."

Despite her remarks, Hans (the idiot he is at times) somehow understands her to be offering an invitation to molest. He's been behind her to stabilize as she practices buoyancy, and he keeps touching her. Hans finally decides that now she's needing to be pulled flush against him. Firmly. A rather inappropriate breathy moan escapes him.

"We're -," - not alone, Elsa tries to scold as she realizes how aroused the man is, batting his wandering hands from where they settle inappropriately low on the swell of her belly. "Hans, you have to behave."

Hans pulls a face, somewhere between offended and indignant, but with his eyes glittering in amusement. "Trust me when I say this is behaved."

Elsa knew it was a horrible mistake to cave into Hans' fantasy. He'd mentioned enough times how exquisite he found her in mermaid form, how he'd so desperately wanted to see her again like that. Especially while in such a state of motherhood, with his child.

The only saving grace in this situation is that mermaids have been flirting shamelessly with Hans - smiling and cooing, batting eyelashes and puckered lips and he's utterly ignored them - Elsa finds the canoodling mermaid snubbing very satisfying. That and his grandfather's presence with the entirety of his family.

Hans adjusts his hands to a more appropriate location with a grumble of dissatisfaction as he glances towards his father and grandfather nearby. Elsa can't help but laugh at Hans, catching Queen Adella's attention.

"You are doing wonderfully, my dear. Every mermaid struggles a bit with buoyancy and movement at the end of her pregnancy." Queen Adella smiles warmly, entirely unaware of her son's wickedness. "Truthfully, I found it extremely uncomfortable to be a woman on land, heavy with child. Being in the water, swimming, was a relief."

Hans husks softly in her ear, "I believe I said something similar to that."

"You have no credibility whatsoever regarding such matters," Elsa laughs once more at the pull of Hans' frown.

Hans' mother is exactly right about the relief being in the water offers, the way it envelops one and lightens weight. By extension Hans is right as well, but that's not the point. Elsa had been aching with pains, increasing in frequency and regularity for the past day and a half. The pains prevented a reasonable night of rest last night, and have persistent through the day. She has felt better since being under the sea, although her abdomen still feels taut with regularity - it does hurts less. There no way Elsa is telling Hans any of that, validating him once more.

It would be just an hour or so later and one of the pains strike so severely that Elsa halts with a caught back groan, hand on her belly and the other gripping Hans' arm fiercely. Her stomach is hard as a rock.

"Elsa?" Hans wears a look of concern. The pain has stolen her voice, so she grabs for his hand and forces it to her abdomen. "Why is your belly so hard?" Hans is bewildered. Good. He gets the problem.

"Mother?" Hans cries out, poorly hidden desperation in it as he directs Elsa to a nearby place to rest, a private alcove off the sea-garden.

Queen Adella is at his side in an instant, followed by Queen Ariel and oh lord, the rest of the family. Elsa doesn't need to protest as Hans immediately begins managing the crowd back and away from the spectacle Elsa's created while the mermaid queens talk in hushed tones.

"Something is wrong," Elsa manages. "I don't understand."

"When she's ready, help her back to her quarters. I'll fetch a midwife." Adella is calm and assertive as she speaks to Ariel before she turns back to Elsa. "Darling, it's time. This babe is ready."

Elsa gives a rough shake to her head, panic setting in, "No. Not now - please." Anna's not here. Anna is not here. She's supposed to help, what if the magic gets out of control? Elsa's a bloody mermaid - what will this mean for the babe? What if the babe is born human, needing air? She knew she should have started confinement, rather than let Hans talk her into coming to this undersea jubilee. Where is Hans - this is all his fault. It's a bloody disaster.

Elsa finally sees him, across the garden watching her from afar as his grandfather almost holds him in place - that says it all - he's dumbstruck. He wears the same stupid expression he had when she revealed to the world her powers in an icy display during the party at her coronation.

"I have to go." Elsa manages, "Back to Arendelle."

"You can't travel like this, it's unsafe for you. And will attract predatory creatures. You'll have to birth here - you and the babe will be fine." Adella pats Elsa's hand in a manner which is intended to be comforting, in all likelihood, as Ariel offers a look somewhere between excitement and pity. It all has the opposite effect, making Elsa want to protest further but another wave of pains stills Elsa's voice, and she's whisked off as Hans' mother assures her that the babe will have taken whatever form she has.

"I want to be with her." Hans says, again. His chest aches in desperation.

It makes no sense to keep him away from Elsa, Hans thinks...and for not the first time. He's been forced to pace the damn hallway and stare at a shut door.

Hours later, and as luck would have it, he hears Elsa very distinctly growl his name. Luck is a funny thing. That may not have been the good fortune kind luck he's hoped for at all, for the poor little midwife who's peering out into the corridor looks extremely unhappy.

"Sire?"

Hans stops, "Yes?"

"Her Majesty, well, this is a very trying time for her. You see," the mermaid babbles on, clutching the door not allowing him entrance, "especially as she'd not anticipated the glorious birth of her babe - your babe. The babe. At this time."

"Yes." Out with it, already.

"Queen Elsa is, well. I don't know quite how to put it delicately, sire." She bobs a sort of curtsy and starts, "Her majesty is requesting -"

The most beautiful sound Hans has ever heard interrupts the midwife. It is a tiny, shrill little cry which rings out in the room behind the the midwife. A beat, then the cry picks up for a breath and halts.

The mermaid forgets herself and darts back into the room, Hans follows. He halts at the doorframe, clutching the stone for support.

It's better than he ever dreamed it would be, the sight of Elsa, spent from birth with their babe carefully cradled to her breast. Elsa looks so besotted at the babe, who's wrapped in blankets as a tiny bundle. She's studying the little face with awe and wonder, completely oblivious to the commotion around her as the midwives tidy up and prepare for Hans to visit. Hans is weak, overwhelmed with the enormity of it all.

"Come meet him, Hans. He's perfect. The future king of Arendelle."

A son. "Christian?"

Elsa doesn't look away from the babe, "Yes, I think Christian is perfect."

Hans has no earthly idea how he's come to sit beside Elsa on the bed, nor how he managed to take the babe, their babe, into his trembling hands, but he has. There is a shock of blonde atop the tiny round head that Hans can't stop stroking, then Hans realizes he's babbling something about fingers and toes.

"I'm a mermaid at the moment so no toes - just a fin. I absolutely blame you." Elsa chuckles lazily, clearly exhausted. "Just unwrap him."

"Oh." Hans blinks, "What if I can't wrap him back up?"

Elsa's smile is so incredibly radiant and beautiful as she reaches over and starts pulling back the blanket. Absolutely perfect, tiny fingers curl into clenched fists as they are exposed and Hans blurts out, "I'm not worthy of this - of you. Of him. I'm not -"

Elsa cuts him off with a press of tender lips, so soft and sweet Hans almost sobs. "You are, because I love you."