"Once more."
Hans sighed as he watched the queen wipe sweat off her forehead, a testament to the intense heat filling the dungeon- the one place in the castle without any flammable items. "Your Majesty, this is clearly not working."
"Again."
He groaned but focused on trying to lower the temperature in the room. "This is impossible."
"No it isn't," Queen Elsa shot back. "Try it again. Condense the heat into your palm. You should get a small flame."
Hans took two deep breaths- in and out, in and out- and attempted to do as Elsa had commanded. Sweat formed on his brow, from concentration rather than the heat. He clenched his jaw, and for a moment the temperature seemed to drop minutely, but then came back in full force. The prince let out a cry of frustration and his forearms burst into flames.
Elsa sighed and held out the bucket of water she kept at her side, and Hans plunged his hands in. "We've been going over this for a month and I haven't made any progress whatsoever," he groaned. "How the hell do you do it?"
"Love," Elsa stated simply.
Hans cocked his head, confused.
"You have to think of love," the queen elaborated. "I stopped the winter by thinking of Anna. You have to think of someone or something you truly care about, truly love, and everything will be easier."
So Hans tried. To be fair, though, he didn't have much to love in his life, for he had been shown very little love himself. He tried his brother Kasper- the only brother who had ever shown him any affection.
If anything, the temperature increased in intensity. Elsa mopped her brow.
Next Hans tried his only friend and loyal companion from the day he turned twelve, Sitron. The horse had been there for him through thick and thin. The temperature in the dungeon lowered, but only slightly.
"Good," Elsa said, and Hans was overwhelmed with gratefulness for that one word. The fact she could find reason to praise even the slightest difference gave him the courage to continue, and something in him clicked.
Elsa was the key.
Hans focused on every admirable thing the queen had ever done, every little thing that had drawn him to her, everything that made him want to do nothing more than sweep her up in his arms and hold her close until her tears faded away: her frightened look when her powers had first been discovered; the beauty and majesty of her ice castle; how innocent and helpless she had looked after being knocked unconscious by the chandelier in comparison to her sheer power minutes earlier; the amazed and ecstatic look she had shown as the snow rose off the fjord and into the sky. And then when Hans had returned to Arendelle: when Elsa had accepted him even when Anna and her oversized mountain man of a fiancé had scorned him; how she had handled the situation with grace and poise, making him feel welcome while still making sure her people were comfortable and safe; the look in her eyes when he told her about his powers that said simply, I understand.
Love was what would help him. Love was the key. And consequences be damned, he was in love with Queen Elsa.
The temperature cleared and a flame formed in the prince's hand.