On the blue screen.
He always wins you over.
And over.

Exitmusic – The Silence


His men have been dead for long now. He shouldn't even hope. They must be as frozen as the walls of his prison. His teeth chatter from the cold, but they also grit against each other with anger and fear.

The fear of dying before his time.

Dying, before he can prove himself.

Dying, when he is so close to getting everything he ever wanted.

An eight-year old Hans appears before him, pulling hard on one end of the wooden doll his big brother has stolen from him.

"It's not fair! That's my toy! Daddy said it's for me!"

But he lets go, because he is young and weak, but infinitely proud. He won't beg or cry. He will just turn around, go back to his small room and try to play with old, broken toys. He will pretend it is better this way. And he will secretly plot his revenge against all of them, but it will never come to fruition.

It's not long now. He gives himself one hour.

But what a long hour, surrounded on all sides by blue mirrors that cut off his breath little by little.

Hans beats against the ice door desperately, crying out, not for help, but for a quicker death.


The snow giant howls outside the castle and the snow on the cliffs shudders with terror.


Elsa traps the swirls of snow between her hands and whispers secrets that no one will ever know. She releases the flurry of white into the night air and it vanishes, white swallowed by black, like it never existed at all.


Hans blinks and feels the water spilling inside his eye. His eyesight is drowning. The images are bathing in black water.

The touch of fingers on his forehead makes him think of his mother. It's only fitful now that he is about to die. His fists are clenched in resigned fury. He is going to die and he is going to hate every last moment of it.

But the touch persists. The fingers close over his eyes and the water now turns to ice.

There is a diamond in his eye.

Elsa smiles in sadness.

"I'm sorry to do this. But there is no other way."

Hans can see her bright round face through thousands of little glass chambers. Then, the chambers all become one. He recognizes Elsa.

"W-What did you do?" he asks softly, hoarsely. He finds he cannot move. He is not tied or bound, but his body is rigid. His heart is beating painfully in his chest.

Elsa bows her head, avoiding his eyes, where the diamond shines mercilessly.

"I made sure you would never leave."

Hans notices the door to his ice room is wide open.

"But I can," he answers, fighting for more breath to enter his lungs.

"No. If you leave this palace, you will die," she replies, standing up in all her dignity. Her shoulders are bare. She is made of marble. She is a giant, more terrifying than the one outside.

"How?"

"The ice you carry in your eye will melt. It's the only thing keeping you alive. I only delayed your death. I did not stop it."

Hans no longer feels the cold and it frightens him. Everything is warm and soft and the diamond in his eye burns with relish.

He wishes to know why?

But the queen is asking herself the same question.