At days end Hans would stand at the wash basin and plunge his hands into the water. It was a habit now. His palms marred with hardened callouses felt nothing, but the heat that engulfed them made the ache subside. Tomorrow would be more of the same. The only thing that changed was the order.

"Walk with me." said Elsa. She swept her cloak behind her. He felt his mouth go dry as he snuck a glimpse before standing to the side. Normally, a gentleman would offer his arm. Not Hans. He wasn't allowed to touch her. He wasn't allowed to look at her. He wasn't allowed to speak to her. He must only follow orders.

They stopped at one of the portrait galleries. Surrounded by her predecessors Hans felt smaller than usual. They all had solemn looks on their faces, and though they each held a scepter, globe, or book it seemed their attention was squarely on him. In his mind they murmurred: traitor, usurper, and villain. When she cleared her throat he looked up to see scaffolds erected next to an unfinished portrait.

"Stay up there until Greger arrives. You will be his assistant for the day."

He bowed, but she had already turned her back to him.

Hans was a painter for three days. In that time he had gotten a good rapport with Greger. The man had a long beard which he tied into two seperate braids. Hans couldn't imagine why he bothered when paint still splattered and caked into the hair.

"So Hans, what did she start you off as?"
"Stable boy."

Greger's laughter echoed through the gallery.

"Well, can't say I blame her. If anyone had done what you did I'd like you to eat horse shit myself. What next?"
"Ditcher."
"Like digging into hell itself?"
"God yes! It felt like heaven when I got transferred to the kitchens."

Hans raised his hands palms out. "I got these from scrubbing all those kettles. Mind you, I became a slave to all those crafstmen before that. Thankfully, I assisted the blacksmith soon after. Took my anger out striking swords."

"Hans! Her majesty requests your presence in the library now!" He looked over the railing to spy Gerda tapping her foot in annoyance.

"You should get going. It may be important." said Greger. He squeezed Hans' shoulder and smiled.

"What makes you say that?"
"You've worked at the palace for eight years and her grace still hasn't placed you in a permanent position? You don't find that suspect?"
"I don't question my punishment."

That was the truth. Almost. The first three years were the hardest. Menial labour coupled with nights in a cell nearly drove him mad. Once that was over it was easy to forget his misery so long as she kept her distance. She hated him and he hated her. That was the truth.

He dashed down to the library and saw her perusing letters on the chaise longue. When she looked up at him she had a soft smile on her face. The tightening in his chest made him purse his lips.
"I take it being a painter's assistant hasn't agreed with you?" She laid the documents in a neat pile and stood before him. "You look like someone's died."said Elsa

"Forgive me your majesty."
"You're always saying that."

Her smile fell. Hans dug his nails into his palms to keep from apologizing again. There was a note of irritation in her voice though he couldn't think why. Before he could wonder any further she had licked her pointer finger and rubbed on a spot at his cheek.

"A bit of paint. Please, have a seat."
"If your majesty permits I would prefer to stand. I do not wish to stain your cushions."

Elsa quirked a brow and returned to the chaise longue. Stretched in repose she looked so relaxed it unnerved him. "I've received a letter from your father."

"What?"
"He says if I no longer have need of you then I may send you back."

She handed him one of the letters and he all but snatched it from her. What did father want? No. No it couldn't be! "I hadn't quite realized you had been here so long…"

Hans dropped to his knees. The constricting pain of fear seized him. It had finally come. The time spent in Arendelle was a torturous dream to prepare for this moment. It couldn't end like this. What could he do? What could he say? He flung the letter into the fire and with each crackle of parchement began to sob. "Elsa…please…I can't-"

"Hans what's wrong?"

He felt his heart might stop. God in heaven. She hugged him.

"Shh, I'm sorry. I didn't think it would affect you so much."
"No."
"It's over now. You can go home."

Elsa's fingers ran through his hair as she rocked him in her embrace. He had never felt so stupid. He had never felt this ugly in the arms of a woman. "No."

"Yes." She propped his chin up. Through the haze of tears her eyes were still so blue he felt like he was drowning. "You've suffered enough."

He withdrew from her, but she still held his hands in her own.

"Elsa, if I go home they'll kill me."

Her cheeks flashed crimson and he felt her soft hands tremble.

"But…that can't be true."
"I have twelve older brothers. Nobody will notice if I'm gone."
"He's your father, he can't possibly…what will your mother say?"
"Sometimes parents don't always do what's best for their children."

Hans helped her to her feet and a strange understanding seemed to come over her expression. She let go of him and turned on her heel. He wiped the tears from his cheeks, but more came to take their place. How long had it been since he had last cried? In the tense silence that enveloped them he could do nothing but wait. Elsa had his life in her hands for a second time.

When she turned to him again her hands were folded over the other and her face was a cool mask of indifference. "Indentured servitude." said Elsa

"I beg your pardon?"
"You have nothing save for the clothes on your back correct?"
"Yes."
"Yes what?"
"Yes your majesty."

She stepped closer and said, "Kneel."

He stepped back and knelt, the posture ingrained since childhood. Hans remained kneeling despite the sudden arrival of her guards and what sounded like the plodding footsteps of Kai, the castle steward. Her voice was sharp and commanding.

"Hans Westergaard, prince of the Southern Isles we have seen you redeemed of your crimes against the crown of Arendelle. In the presence of the citizens of Arendelle and by the grace of God do you swear renouncement of your birthright to bear true and faithful allegiance to us and our heirs in the defence of our realm, its laws and people?"

"I, Hans Westergaard, renounce my birthright and all its vestiges and do swear that I will well and truly serve our Sovereign Queen Elsa, her heirs and successors, and to do right in the manner of all people after the laws and usages of this realm, without fear or favour, affection or illwill. So help me God."

"Then rise anew good sir as a member of our Queen's Guard."

He rose and the eruption of applause was deafening. Hans gazed into her beautiful face and couldn't help but match her own smile. Whatever came next it didn't matter. He was redeemed in her eyes. That was enough.