i've finished the side-fic about where elsa went. just waiting on a beta (turwen, who has beta'd all the chapters from about 54-onwards – wound of applause!) to check it out :)

if you're enjoying this, please think about leaving a review! :)

Elsa's home is... well.

There isn't really one single word that you can use to describe it. 'Amazing' isn't really specific enough, and 'beautiful' feels like an understatement. It's a little... indescribable, really.

It's big. It's the sort of apartment takes up the entire top floor of the building. She has to put in a key and a code just to access it, because the elevator opens up directly into her foyer.

Your first impression is that it's a little... impersonal. And then she leads you through it and you have to reassess that notion because, while the apartment isn't decorated the way you would do it, that doesn't mean it's a cold place; doesn't mean it's just a house that Elsa resides in.

There are small features that distinguish it from being a house into being a home; there's a picture hanging in the hallway of someone who appears to be Elsa, smiling while on either side of her are two adults – likely her parents. She seems to be about ten, and really, really happy.

As you venture further in, there are other signs. A vast bookshelf, with varying genres. You see 1984 on one shelf, along with other classics, but His Dark Materials and Wicked on another. There's a true-crime section near some biographies, but the one thing they all have in common is that they seem to be looked after, but used.

So, she's a reader? That was interesting. She hasn't ever really said anything about her interests – and why would she? But it's still something nice to know.

On another wall, there's all these snow globes lined up. There doesn't seem to be a particular pattern to their order, but there probably is to her.

"So... welcome to my home," Elsa says, gesturing around vaguely. You smile at her.

"It's lovely," you tell her. You move over to the snow globes – there's one front and centre, and bigger than the rest. It seems to be Elsa's pride and joy because she moves with you, and picks it up fondly.

"My parents bought this for me when I turned fifteen."

She holds it out for you, and you take it tentatively. You tip it upside down so the snow swirls before taking a proper look at it.

Inside are two girls building a snowman together. It's amazing, and the level of detail is just staggering. You could almost believe that they were real – one girl even has a smattering of freckles across her cheeks.

"It's beautiful," you tell her truthfully. "I can't believe you collect them."

She smiles, and you hand it back. "It's what began it, that one," she admits. "I just love the way the snow, or the sparkles, move around. Winter has always been my favourite season, so watching the particles drift down... well, it was as close as I could get in summer. Especially once I moved away from Norway."

She watches it for a few more minutes, entranced. There's a peace in her eyes that has been absent all week, and you're suddenly grateful for the terrible ending to the holiday, because without it, you wouldn't have seen it. Without it, you wouldn't have been given the opportunity for this peek into Elsa's life.

Once more, she doesn't seem like an untouchable businesswoman, or even a boss. She looks like someone you could truly be friends with.

But then she seems to realise where she is, and, importantly, who she's with, and she takes a small step back. The globe goes back on the shelf, and she turns back to you.

"I'm sorry," she says, "I'm probably keeping you up. Would you like a shower now, or in the morning?"

You take a few seconds to think about that. You'd really, really love a shower now, but that would probably keep Elsa awake too, so you shake your head.

"The morning is fine. You're probably desperate for sleep too," you tell her. It seems as though the nap on the plane did her some good, but nothing can really match sleeping in a familiar bed. She smiles at you.

"Just a little," she admits. "Well, I do have a guest room. Apologies – it hasn't been used in some time, but the sheets are clean." She indicates the hallway, and begins moving down it. "My room is at the very end. If you're up before me, help yourself to whatever is in the fridge or cupboard. There isn't much, but I asked Clarice to make sure there was some fresh bread and milk brought in earlier today."

"Clarice?"

"The maid," Elsa admits, almost guiltily. "She comes in once a week – I'd do it myself, but I just don't have the time."

You bite back a grin. "Don't worry – if I could pay someone else to do it, I definitely would."

Elsa gives small laugh. "Good to know," she says. "Regardless, there should be some food. And coffee – it's a pod machine, so not the best, but it will still taste nicer than the freeze-dried stuff."

You have zero doubts about that, and you nod. She turns to leave, but you reach out a hand to tap at her wrist before she gets too far. When she turns back, she almost looks surprised by the contact.

"Just... thank you, Elsa," you say earnestly. "I really appreciate this."

She smiles. "It's really no problem. Thank you for... well, pushing through this week. I haven't been the best company, I realise, but... I honestly did have a nice time this week. Hopefully next time will be even better?"

"Next time?"

She quirks her head. "Well, nothing's set in stone, but I'm certainly expecting some kind of stuff-up. I give it three months before I need to go back to fire someone, or something." She says it with a smile, and you know she's mostly kidding. Still, the idea of travelling again intrigues you, and you almost can't wait.

Especially if she realises that it could be an even better experience for the both of you.