Hans hadn't been lying when he had told Anna that he'd loved her. Actually, that was partly true – he'd thought he loved her. It was certainly no lie that their feelings could have blossomed into something so beautiful, however…

"You have to kiss me," Anna was ranting, repeating this over and over to Hans, completely caught off guard by his fiancé's aggression.

This wasn't right. An "act of true love", she was saying now, looking up at the frozen-still man in front of her as if she didn't quite comprehend what was taking him so long. And why he was standing so stiffly, for that matter.

Hans knew he couldn't let Anna down; but whatever he did, it seemed like that was going to be the case.

"True love"… the concept was ridiculous, now that they'd been apart for so long.

Looking after her kingdom was not only nothing but troublesome (trouble he was foolishly willing to go through at the time), it had consumed too much time. He knew Arendelle more than he knew her.

Nevertheless, he had leant forward, eyes closed, lips puckered up…

And then he had pulled away.

Oh, poor Anna, he thought, staring down at the girl with so much pity and self-hatred. If only there was someone who loved you. If only I could love you…

Except he simply couldn't.

Not now.

They hardly knew each other. They could have had so much – been a real couple.

But now?

It was silly to rush into it. Though it was sillier to pretend it was love.

"Anna, I can't," He muttered, staring at her eyelids as they slowly peeled open to reveal those dazzling shades of blue that Hans had once found to be the epitome of beauty.

They were still beautiful.

They just couldn't be his.

She just couldn't be.

"Why not?" Anna inquired, a little too demanding to sound anything more than hurt. "I… I thought you loved me."

"We barely know each other, Anna," Hans replied, looking at her as though it was blatantly obvious all along. As though she couldn't possibly still be deluded. "I'd love to be able to save you. But I'd have to get to know you to love you.

"And we don't know each other."

There was no heartbreak in her expression, no signs of betrayal, or loss, or anything other than slight pain that would fade too soon to be memorable.

Because how can there be heartbreak when the heart was never involved?

The last thing Hans wanted to do – and the next thing Hans would have to do – was order the execution of Elsa. It was murder and treason, fair and square. Unfortunately, the law had no loopholes for fugitive queens.

"With a heavy heart, I charge Queen Elsa of Arendelle with treason, and sentence her to death."

This was the line he had delivered to the Duke, after wrapping Anna up warm by the fire. It wasn't that he didn't want to stick by her until the end; he felt he simply didn't have the right.

But of course, Queen Elsa wasn't anywhere to be found. A snow storm was already raging – much worse than the first one. And as Hans made his way through, an executioner by his side, Elsa's mood further worsened.

"Elsa!" Hans was shouting into the distance, his voice wobbling very slightly from the cold and the dread. Mostly the latter. However, he wasn't the only one shouting.

"Hans!" A far more quivery voice echoing into the distance sounded out, from close behind.

Anna.

She couldn't stay out here.

"Y-you can't kill my sister! I-I'm not dead yet, see?"

As she shouted this, she fell to the ground, her knees deep in the snow. Her state was deteriorating faster than any had expected.

Hans tried to trudge on, but he couldn't. How could he leave this poor girl out in the snow, to go and kill off her sister?

Shaking his head, he turned and rushed back over to her.

"Look at what she's done to you, Anna," he tried reasoning with her. "You'll surely be dead in minutes."

"She's dying?"

The blonde stepped out from the shrouds of the blizzard, her face paler than the snow itself. All the colour that had drained out of Arendelle had drained out of Elsa, as she watched her sister turning the same shade.

Elsa hurried over, in a fit of shock and despair, tears already welling up. "No… please… Anna!" Her screams were demented, disturbed, just as agonising to listen to as they were for Elsa to let out. Collapsing with her arms around her auburn-haired sister, Elsa could do nothing but cry for the next few minutes.

Which – along with Elsa's naturally ice-cold fingertips – could have been why she didn't notice the tears bringing her sister back to life. But the pat on Elsa's shoulder and the realisation her sister hadn't in fact left her still didn't stop the tears.

Another man rushed over before she could notice, causing Anna to smile and shout, "Kristoff!"

This brought Elsa back. "Kristoff? Really, Anna?" This was an obvious stab at Anna's desperation. 'First Hans, now Krisoff?' was all Elsa's expression said.

"I know what you're thinking, but I swear, we're just friends," Anna insisted. Her focus on her sister, Anna didn't quite notice the joy from Kristoff's face sinking.

Hans, on the other hand, looked as though he'd just seen a ghost. In some respects, he had. "Well, I guess everything's sorted, then," he said, looking sincerely remorseful. "An execution isn't in order after all."

There would be no quick forgiveness, but Anna was at least grateful for his regret.

"Do you think we can start over?" He asked. "Someday?"

Anna still couldn't resist cracking a smile. "Sure."

No one ever did notice Kristoff silently trekking off into the distance.