Where is Home?

What is home? Is it the place you lay down your burdens? Is it where your heart is? Is it a place? A people?

Elsa Jensen contemplated these questions as she stared at the cappuccino in front of her. In the morning sunlight, wisps of steam wafted from the white porcelain mug the coffee shop server had put in front of her, visible against the exposed brick wall in her corner table. Around her, the shop played music from the 90s; one of the younger patrons two tables over was grumbling about the “oldies Spotify playlist” the baristas seemed to prefer and appeared especially bothered by Natalie Imbruglia’s “Torn” just now.

She touched her finger to a filament of water vapor and carefully traced its outline, frost vapor falling to the table along with tiny snowflakes. After a moment’s work, she regarded the tiny crystals on the distressed wooden table.

A N N A

They spelled out. She chuckled ruefully to herself. Even here, even now, she couldn’t get her sister off her mind. With a wave of her fingers, she dismissed the ice and picked up the chocolate croissant she’d ordered with her coffee.

Chocolate, she sighed internally as she chewed, thinking of Anna raiding the buffet line at her coronation and at nearly every meal once the gates were open. If only she could see what chocolate has become now, she mused.

The server jostled her out of her reverie, placing what could only be described as a giant bowl in front of her; it was a mug in name only. Elsa looked at the beverage before turning her attention to the server, getting a good look at her nametag. “Kieran,” she started, “I don’t mean to be rude, but I most certainly did not order this- this- what is this?”

The woman smiled, accentuating her shoulder-length, jet black hair and razor-sharp jawline. “It’s on the house. The head barista’s trying something new, thought you might like it. You seemed like someone who would enjoy this.”

“Yes, but… what is it?”

Kieran smiled. “It’s called a chocolate bath. Hot cocoa with a twist.”

Elsa arched an eyebrow, at both the pronouncement and her detection of the faintest Irish accent. “A chocolate… bath. Why?”

“Wait for it.”

A few moments later, something broke the surface of the cocoa; upon closer examination, Elsa realized it was a snowman of sorts made of marshmallows floating on the chocolate. “That’s very clever.”

“Yeah, they’re coated in chocolate and melted to the bottom of the cup. Then the cocoa slowly dissolves it. Neat, isn’t it?” With that pronouncement, she wandered off to attend to a nearby table. Behind the serving line, she heard a man’s voice shouting something indistinct, from the back room of the cafe.

Elsa dunked the little marshmallow man under the hot cocoa as a memory washed over her.

In the royal dining room, Kai had been shouting something to Gerda just beyond the double doors, while Anna was stirring her sipping chocolate as a little kid, complaining that it was much too hot to drink. She begged her sister to cool it down - “do the magic!”, she’d squeal - and of course Elsa did, casting three little snowballs into her sister’s mug. Anna cheered and dunked the snowballs in her drink, then ran over to hug her big sister.

She sighed aloud. That was what felt like home to her. Being with Anna, even the thirteen years they’d been apart. After that, they’d been inseparable. Home was waking up next to Anna every morning, limbs as tangled as her brilliant auburn hair. Home was dancing in the ballroom together, skating in the courtyard and in the woods, cooking together, making love together, growing old together.

Well, Anna had grown old. Elsa… had not. She opened the camera app on her phone and looked at her reflection. In the mirror, she looked almost the same as she had at her coronation. The face that greeted her had barely a wrinkle and not a grey hair in sight. Tears welled in her eyes as she thought back to her final days as Queen of Arendelle, watching Anna’s stone raised next to her parents on that lonely hill north of the palace. On that day, she abdicated and dissolved the monarchy, leaving Arendelle forever.

She hadn’t felt like any place was home since that day, no matter how far she wandered - and she’d wandered far, to nearly every continent in the world.

Exhaling a breath that made her shoulders droop, she took a sip of the hot cocoa and gave a half-hearted smile. It was everything a good hot cocoa should be - rich, thick, decadent, with undertones of vanilla and just a hint of cinnamon. She noted with interest that it was different than most of the hot cocoa she’d had in America; most Americans preferred their chocolate cloyingly sweet, and this was much more to her taste, the chocolate flavor not overpowered by sugar.

Elsa looked around at the serving line and only saw a young man polishing the pastries case glass. No sign of the head barista who’d made the drink for her. Well, she’d certainly had more than her fair share of men buying her various beverages over the years, though it was usually fruit-laden cocktails at parties. She’d done much worse than having a man send her cup of hot chocolate.

She flagged down Kieran. “Can I get the check please?” she asked, a single slender finger raised in the air. A few moments later as she packed up her messenger bag, the brunette put a plastic tray on the distressed wooden tabletop with a cheap plastic pen. “I’ll take that whenever you’re ready, miss.”

Just as she started to sign the bill, she noticed an extra two lines printed on the receipt.

PLEASE WOULD YOU WAIT FOR ME

was typed out just below her order summary.

Elsa looked up again, confused. Who was this barista who sent her the free drink and then boldly edited the receipt? Was he that shy that he wouldn’t simply just walk over? Most men who bought her drinks had no trouble approaching her afterwards.

She took a last sip of the cocoa from her bowl, signed the check, and looked around. Just as she was putting her bag strap over her head, she felt a tap on her shoulder.

Elsa turned around and dropped her bag entirely, her jaw open wide in shock. The woman in front of her, dressed in a green apron with a deep purple t-shirt and skinny jeans, had auburn hair done up in twin plaits. Her face was round and freckled with a cute nose; her eyes, an endless Caribbean ocean of teal. The name tag on her apron read ANNIE, and for the first time in over a century, Elsa felt like she could be home again.

Author’s Notes

This fic was part of the April 2022 Elsanna Shenanigans contest.

Join The Party

Enjoyed this story? Want to meet fellow readers and discuss? Join the Elsanna Shenanigans community on Discord at discord.gg/elsanna.

As always, please review, kudos, comment, like, follow, all that good stuff. I appreciate it.