The King smiled at that. “I would love to do such a thing. In good time.”
Looking down at the babe in his arms, the tiny thing suddenly blew out a sneeze, sending a powder of sparkling blue snow, spraying the man’s face, catching onto his moustache.
For all the worry the man had for the girl and these inexplicable occurrences, he found himself chuckling in surprise after only a beat of pause.
And when she sneezed on him two years later, while he was feeding her some dinner, he had the same laugh, and the girl laughed with him, clapping her hands as she witnessed the powdered snow decorating the normal auburn.
For a brief moment, the queen stared at her baby in shock, before her own surprised laughter joined her husband’s. Gently, she brushed the snow from his moustache, shaking her head slightly.
Two years on, they were quite used to dealing with such occurrences, Idun swooping in with a handkerchief to wipe at her daughter’s nose. Elsa scrunched up her face a little at the invasion, but allowed her mother to clean her up.
“Bless you,” she said, in the light, singsong voice most parents adopted when talking to their children. Idun couldn’t keep the grin off her face at Elsa’s delight at having caught her father with the snow.
“I do it,” she demanded after a minute, pointing at the cutlery the king had been using to feed her before the sneeze.