Elsa meets Hans at her coronation.
He's tall and refined and handsome and just the type of man her father would've wanted to court her. But the king is dead and Elsa has no intention of letting a man into her life, especially not without a solution to her icy little problem.
But Hans is sweet and agreeable, and even though she's queen, Ela's still a young girl, one who is not immune to the charms of an attractive man. He doesn't talk to her like her other potential suitors. He's flattering, of course, but he doesn't try to impress her with his many blue-eyed metaphors or his medals.
He is interested in her, not her country or her court. Hans makes her giggle when he asks her where all the chocolate went, makes her smile when he asks about her sister and for a few minutes she forgets that there is a crown upon her head.
So when he asks her to dance, extending his hand out to her, she places her hand in his without thinking. She tells herself that it'll be okay; that her gloves are on, that Anna wouldn't get too out of hand in the three minutes she'd go unsupervised, that one dance wouldn't hurt anyone.
Conceal. Don't feel.
"Are you sure this is wise?" she asks him, "I haven't danced in years. Your poor little toes, I feel sorry for them already."
"Yes, I am sure," he tells her with a smirk, leading her toward the middle of the ballroom.
He bows his head to her, Elsa curtsying slightly in response. "Just let me lead," he whispers, kissing her hand. She is only too happy to oblige.
Don't feel.
When she relaxes and lets her spine stop tensing up and lets the figures around her turn into colorful blurs and instead focuses on the weight of his hand on her waist she begins to breathe normally. She has never experienced such a pleasurable push and pull before this, before him, and if he is trying to take advantage of her through it, she does not feel it.
It's wonderful. They laugh and stumble when they spin and she has had more fun in those few moments than she's had in over a decade.
It's over all too soon, but it is more than she could've ever asked for and she thinks that maybe, after her work is done and she's retired for the night she'll replay it all in her mind so that the next morning she'll have something to look forward to.
Hans guides her to the edge of the room, a big goofy grin still plastered over his face.
"It's been quite a long day. Are you tired?"
"No," she replies impulsively. "N-not really," she amends, realizing that as a woman, she is expected to reply that yes, she is tired, and she's supposed to praise this man for being such a kind gentleman, looking out for such a weak little creature. "It's just that—"
"You're stronger than you look."
Yes, she wants to say, I am. But it has never been in her nature to agree with statements made about her (they're mostly negative anyway) so she simply lowers her eyes, her gaze falling to the floor, smiling daintily.
That's when she realizes that he hasn't let go of her hand.
"May I write to you?" he asks, bringing her hand closer to him. His face is so kind and hopeful that she can't find it in herself to argue. She nods, only just, pleased at the pure relief that fills his face.
And even though a moment later she's pulled away from the Prince, and pushed into the cold arms of even colder dignitaries, she's never felt so warm.
His first letter arrives two weeks later.
"From Prince Hans, ma'am..." says Kai, casually placing the letter on the top of her pile of papers. Elsa scrutinizes it through the corner of her eye, feigning indifference.
Kai knows better. He raises his eyebrows knowingly at her, quietly exiting her study.
Elsa's fingers itch to tear open the letter, but she reminds herself that she has work to do. Don't get distracted, she commands, tucking the letter away in a drawer.
She fidgets for the rest of the day.
"And then Kristoff was like 'Were you raised in a barn?' and I was like 'Actually I was raised in a castle' and then he spit on it! He spit on the sled and he even got some on me and it was so gross cause like that's how he polishes the wood, which is super weird. He should just get some supplies to clean it with. Oh! I should bring him some! Do you think the staff will mind if I borrow some wood polisher or —"
Anna had only met this so called "Kirstoff" a week ago and already Elsa had heard enough stories about the ice harvester to last her a lifetime. Nonetheless she sits there and smiles at Anna, as she does at every dinner, who enjoyed these conversations more than anything, even if they were mostly one-sided.
Elsa still didn't trust herself around Anna, preferring to move as little as possible and love her sister from afar.
She just wished Anna would hurry up and finish with that pudding so that she could finally read Hans's letter.
Some time later, Elsa is finally able to rush to her room, the letter clutched to her chest like a lifeline. She closes the door behind her, fumbling with the seal, her gloves and nerves making it almost impossible. Mulling over it, she decides to remove her gloves.
She clenches her shaking hands, breathing deeply through her nose. Control it.
Elsa only touches it for a second and still, the parchment freezes over.
She waits for the letter to thaw, and then she waits for it to dry. She curses herself for her lack of discipline, cursing her inability to just control her feelings.
She wants to be angry at Hans for causing her excitement, wants to hold him accountable for all of her recent mistakes and never speak a word to him ever again.
But when she read his letter, all of that disappears. Even though he refers to her as "Your Majesty"he feels informal and personal and so friendly. He tells her that his favorite composer is Felix Mendelssohn, and that he prefers sandwiches over pheasant. He asks her what her hobbies are and what season is her favorite.
Elsa sits down to write back to him immediately. At first,she has no idea whatsoever what to say, tossing rejected paper after paper into the waste basket. Then, she starts to write about how spring is her favorite season because it reminds her of Anna and the words seemingly write themselves after that. She jumps from one topic to another, writing well into the night.
Smiling to herself, she realizes that this must be what it's like to talk to a friend.
"From now on everyone will push you and pull you for their own advantage," Gerda tells her one afternoon, as if Elsa has never been used in that manner before. She is young, but she is willing to learn, if only they'd give her a chance.
Anna offers to help, of course, but she is inexperienced in politics and Elsa does not want her sister involved in state affairs anyway. Anna is too good and full of life to be locked in a room full of old, graying men for hours on end.
You're stronger than you look.
Those old men yell at the queen, demand her signature on bills she's vetoed numerous times. They wave papers in her face and shove pens into her hand, standing so close to her that anxiety overtakes her. Elsa attempts to excuse herself, speaking louder and louder each time and yet they are still unable to hear her over their own arguments. Suddenly the Duke of Sewelly is beside her, whispering, "Your father would not have stood for such nonsense."
Ice begins to swim through her veins, her heart pounding loudly as the room steadily drops in temperature.
Conceal, don't feel, don't let it show. Control.
The queen picks up her skirts and calmly exits the room with her ladies in waiting trailing behind her, leaving silence in their wake.
"The people. They are angry with me." The public did not take the news of their sovereign abandoning a council meeting, one which they were told was going smoothly with much progress being made.
"They think me an incompetent fool."
"It'll pass, Your Majesty. You'll see," reassures Kai, patting her gloved hand affectionately. She hums in acknowledgment, not believing him in the least.
Winter has come early to Arendelle this year, and her people are a superstitious bunch, blaming the newly crowned queen for all their hardships. Elsa blames herself, too.
Mama and Papa were angry with me once, as well she recalls. Their anger eventually became disappointment.
So will the peoples'.
Hans has taken to addressing her as "my dearest, most loved Elsa" in their correspondence. It is too personal, she knows, and she is also aware that several other individuals read her letters before they enter her possession.
And yet, she can't bring herself to care, because somehow, somewhere along the line she's stopped freezing his letters.
He tells her what she needs to hear, that everyone makes mistakes. People are fickle, he writes, they are interchangeable. You are not a fool. They don't hate you. Give them time, the storm will pass.
As her fingers trail the handwriting on his latest letter , she realizes that she does not need the forgiveness of the public, no matter how much she wants it. What she needs is someone who understands her. She needs to feel less alone in the world. She needs happiness, and that's something her people cannot give her.
So she summons Prince Hans to Arendelle.
"I understand more than you think...of what your life is like."
"Do you?"she questions, as she allows him to escort her back to her chambers for the night.
"My childhood wasn't easy, either."
"Oh?"
"My brothers were problematic when I was a boy."
"I know. They pretended that you were invisible."
"No. That is, they did. But there was more than that, there was a lot of difficulty...what I'm trying to say is that I know what it's like, to live alone inside your head, to smile and nod at everyone and yet not give a clue as to your real feelings. It's hard, that moment when you first realize that everyone may bow and curtsy, but you have no say in your own destiny."
She looks up at him then, appraising him silently.
"Then you're right," she says, turning to him as they reach her door. "We do understand each other."
He brings her han up to his lips, kissing her knuckles in a movement that has become all too familiar to her.
"Your Majesty." He disappears down the stairs, Elsa entering her bedroom, stopping once to look back.
Anna corners her the next morning at breakfast.
"Do you like him?"
"Anna, that's not—"
"It's a simple question, Elsa. Do you like him?"
"Yes. Yes I like him. Very much. More than I ought to."
Hans proposes less than a week later.
"It would make me happier than anything," he begins, playing with his thumbs, "too happy, really, if you'd agree to—marry me."
It's sudden, too sudden probably, and God—she doesn't even know him all that well. But she figures that she'll have the rest of her life to know him better, and, if she's being honest, she never really thought of marrying anyone else, anyway.
"I'll do everything in my power not to disappoint you," he continues, his eyes pleading. "You can draw on me for anything and you will be my whole existence."
"Yes." She nods, breathless. Who else but this crazy, stupid, wonderful man in front of her would ever want her?
He beams at her then, rising in passionate relief as he takes her in his arms, at last kissing her properly.
I'll tell him tomorrow becomes her new mantra. But she hasn't had an accident in weeks, not while Hans is around her.
Elsa imagines that it's gone, that her curse has disappeared and washed itself our of her system, that the trolls were wrong about it becoming stronger. It is weaker now, she's sure of it. There is no other explanation for the warmth that has spread throughout her body lately.
It'll be okay.
Anna walks her down the aisle.
Elsa clutches her sister's arm like a lifeline, allowing herself this single occasion to seek Anna's comfort.
"I'm right here," Anna whispers.
Then she sees Hans waiting for her at the end of the aisle and he is the most handsome man she has ever seen. Elsa's gloves squeak as she grips her sister's arm even tighter.
All at once her hand is placed in Hans's and he looks at her with all the love in the world, and when the archbishop pronounces them man and wife and Hans kisses her for the first time as her husband, she knows that he was worth everything.
She recognizes that, for once, she had to live her life for herself. And now, for Hans.
As queen, Elsa cannot afford to travel abroad for her honeymoon. Instead, they spend a week tucked away in their new apartments in the castle. Elsa sleeps with a warm body next to her for the first time in forever, and even though she invariably has those gloves on, they're happy.
Not once does Hans question her, Lord knows he has his own quirks too, like his inability to sleep without socks, which tickle Elsa when he kicks her. They accept each other.
So when Elsa expresses apprehension toward consummating their marriage, Hans doesn't push her.
"It's pathetic, I'm—"
"No. I loved you before I ever touched you," he says, kissing her cheek. "It's okay. It's natural to be hesitant about these things. You've been isolated your entire life in preparation for your role in life, I would never try to force you into something you weren't comfortable with."
She lets him believe that. That her isolation is the root of all her problems and that none of it was her fault and that her parents were wrong to make her suffer like that.
Because she's scared to death that she will lose him to fear and disgust.
Bliss doesn't last. The world is a screwy place that doesn't play by the rules.
"The Queen will ratify all bills that were previously vetoed. There will be no repeat of the old problem," Prince Hans tells Lord Palmerson at the Military Gala some weeks later.
Elsa, when she hears of her so-called "acceptance," is furious. Lord Palmerson informs her of how delighted he is that her majesty finally saw reason, chewing her ear off while she stares at him with barely hidden shock, lips turned into a tight smile as little spots of frost form beneath her.
"You'll have to excuse me, my Lord," she says when Palmerson finally stops blabbering enough for her to get a word in. "I've some business to attend to."
"Of course, Your Majesty," he calls to her retreating back.
Elsa finds her husband laughing over some joke with a group of young barons and earls. He grins as he sees her approach, excusing himself from the gentlemen. She says nothing as he joins her, guiding him to the outskirts of the ballroom. Once there, she lets go.
"Let me make one thing clear: I will not be governed.I will not be managed. I will not be controlled!"
"Dearest, what are you—"
"Lord Palmerson? Agreeing to dozens of bills I have previously refused without consulting me first? And this is on top of the 'new additions' to my household two weeks ago, not to mention the private secretary fiasco last month!"
"Elsa these were all matters that I thought should be addressed with—"
"With what, Hans?" she questions, her volume rising despite her attempts to keep herself calm. The last thing she needs is people thinking they've quarreled. "I am not a child, I shall make my own decisions! Do not lecture me on politics or my company or anything else! I may be Queen of Arendelle but you are not the King!" She stops there, breathing heavily after her furious outburst.
"Were it so simple we might more problems of your making."
"Have you lost your mind?" Elsa can feel the eyes of the guests burning into her head so she does her best to keep her face indifferent.
"Seriously, Elsa! You are the youngest, most inexperienced queen Arendelle has ever seen. Face it, you need all the help you can get."
"How dare you speak to me in that way! I will not have my role usurped!"
Hans opens his mouth to speak, Elsa raising a hand to silence him. She sees Anna coming toward her, a concerned look on her face. Not now Anna.
"Leave. We'll talk tomorrow when you're feeling more grown up."
"No."
"You will go when I dismiss you!"
"I will not go," responds Hans, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Fine. Then I will." The queen turns away from her husband, walking away from him and the guests.
"Stop running from your problems!
She doesn't turn around.
"Elsa!" He runs after her, grabbing her hand. She yanks her hand out of his grip, leaving her glove limp in his hand. Gasping, Elsa spins around, eyes wide, reaching out for her glove which Hans keeps out of her grasp.
"G-give me my glove!"
"No, Elsa! I—"
"Hans!"she whispers frantically, pleading. "We'll discuss this later. Please, let me go!"
"No. This isn't about politics or anything! This is about you, Elsa!"
She angles herself away from him, curling her hand in, toward her body.
"Enough, Hans."
"What's wrong with you, Elsa! What are you so afraid of?"
"I said, enough!"
Without thinking, Elsa swirls around, flinging out her ungloved hand. Angry, roaring ice shoots out of her palm, her power returning with a vengeance after going unused for months. Tall, menacing ice skewers appear, forming a semicircle around her. Tears well up in her eyes, wishing for the millionth time that her father were here to tell her that everything would be alright. She shuts her eyes, clutching her hand to her chest, not brave enough to see the hateful gazes pointed at her.
She reaches behind her,searching for a doorknob and discovering with horror that there is none. She's trapped.
"Sorcery!" screeches the Duke of Weselton. "Witchcraft! I knew there was something dubious going on here! The queen is a monster!"
"My wife is not a monster! She's just scared and I provoked her so this is my fault."
Elsa finally looks up to see Hans staring down the crowd with disdain. When he turns to look at her, his gaze softens. "It's okay,"he stares at him for a long while, still breathing heavily and shaking violently. But she nods anyway.
"It's okay," he repeats, breaking ice shards to clear a path, making his way to her side.
"It is not okay! I could've been killed! Why, I should—"
"Oh, shut up you little weasel!" Anna interrupts the Duke's complaints, stomping heavily on his feet, ignoring his screeches.
"Whoa there, feisty pants." Kristoff takes Anna by the waist, dragging her away while she continues trying to latch on to the Duke.
"Hans, you can't trust me," Elsa says, after her sister has been subdued. "Please, just go! I don't want to hurt you!"
"Elsa stop. I'm not going anywhere," he says, gently grabbing her shoulders. "For thick and thin, remember?"he asks, flashing his wedding band. Hans wraps his shaking wife up in his arms, clutching her to him and speaking into the crook of her neck. "We'll get through this, I swear. And I promise that I will love you through it all."
And then Elsa sees the ice, and she sees her sister's face fill with understanding and acceptance, and she feels her husband's strong arms holding her together and she remembers what her father used to tell her, what she never believed before.
"Love will thaw," she breathes.
"Hm?"
"Hans, that's it!" Elsa plants her lips on his, catching him by surprise. "Love will thaw!"
She kisses him again, pulling away from his embrace, taking off her remaining glove and handing it to him. She stretches her arms out, palms facing out. She thought of Anna's voice and her parents' arms and Hans's smile and she felt a tingling warmth sail out of her fingertips as the angry ice thawed into harmless little puddles.
"I'm so sorry."
She's tucked into his side, their bare hands linked together, resting on his chest.
"I should've told you long before." He shushes her gently, stroking her arm. "You've nothing to apologize for."
"I could've killed you. I could've killed everyone at that party."
"But you didn't. Elsa, knowing that you've suffered your entire life to keep this secret hidden hurts me more than anything else ever could. You're the only wife I've got or ever will have. You mean everything to me." He hugs her to him, her body molding to fit his.
"But if you every freeze my sandwiches again, I swear I shall call the guard!"
She laughs, rolling over and pinning him beneath her, leaning down to kiss him with all her heart.
Hey guys! I saw Frozen a while back, and I just could not get Elsa and Hans out of my head, and so this appeared. This was inspired heavily by the film The Young Victoria, in fact many quotes I used have been taken from it.