Disclaimer: Frozen belongs to Disney.
Cinderella version: Aschenputtel by the Grimm Brothers
Cinderella
"Shine upon darkness, the light of change."
As he neared the entrance to the ballroom, he donned on his black mask, it was covered with golden, intricate designs. He took a deep breath, taking in the familiar yet foreign scene around him. He flexed his gloved fingers, no longer used to the sensation. Suddenly, he felt too awkward to be there with the other members of royalty and nobility. It didn't feel right, somehow. His royal garments made him feel ill-at-ease—was it always this stiff and uncomfortable?
He felt differently now. What he felt in him wasn't the shame and uselessness some of his brothers had instilled in his head. It wasn't that he wanted to disappear because he felt like he didn't belong there, that he wasn't royalty like they were. What he felt now was entirely different. What he felt was distaste. It was cumbersome to be surrounded by people that you have to be pretentious around with—not that he didn't have his own share of pretenses. He was despicable for it, actually.
He knew that the person he was five years ago would never even imagine himself standing at the entrance to a ballroom, wishing himself to be in a commoner's clothes, working in the fields, riding his horse, or swimming in the lake. The person he was would rather be king.
This is what five years of living as a commoner and working as a laborer does to you.
But remember, you're a prince now.
A prince again.
He shook himself awake, willing himself to focus as his green eyes scanned the ballroom. Everything was boring and black and white, until his eyes finally landed on her. She may have been wearing a mask but it wasn't very difficult to recognize her. To him, she stood out like a goddess who had decided to grace the mortals a chance to look upon her beauty and be showered with her kindness—was he always this poetic about her?
Of course not. He was never poetic about anything because he was too busy snatching some monarch's throne; hers particularly. If he were going to be poetic about her then, and had he succeeded, he would most likely be saying false flattery while delivering her eulogy.
Talking about her beauty was easily not a lie, and he knew she was kind as she was gracious. He wouldn't be saying false flattery, just insincere ones because he wouldn't mean any of them and the tears would all just be an act.
Had I succeeded...
He shuddered involuntarily at the thought, at the sheer possibility of his victory. He got close, and he knew it. In all his bitterness he thought over how he could have succeeded and he knew how but...
I would have been a murderer.
He tried to remember why he lacked remorse the first few months of the aftermath. Why couldn't he bring himself to feel guilt or regret? Or why he never questioned the way he had stooped so low.
He believed he was a changed man, but that didn't mean he was completely free from his demons. They were still there, lingering and hiding in the shadows. Perhaps that was the reason why he was drawn to her. Her demons weren't so completely different from his. He saw it in her eyes, in the way she moved; he heard it in the way she talked, in the way she cried. Everybody had their demons, but only few ever find the light to vanquish them. She had found that light, and he wanted to find his. He felt something when he was around her. He felt like he could hope.
Her hair was fixed in a lose braid, cascading down her left shoulder. Her magnificent dress shimmered with the perfect combination of blue and silver. She looked the same as she did the last time he had seen her five years ago, he could tell despite her mask, although she looked more radiant now, happier, livelier and still as graceful as ever. For a while he didn't mind the jostling and the way people were staring at him as he watched her, transfixed, but he didn't want to draw too much attention to himself so he started walking towards her, weaving through the crowd as quickly as he could.
His stride was purposeful, but heavier, lacking the grace it had once possessed. He almost turned away when he saw a man, one he didn't recognize, engaging a conversation with her. He seemed dashing enough, but she didn't seem to be enjoying his company, he saw her shoot her sister desperate look but her sister had already left her, smiling and shrugging innocently with her hand placed at the crook of her husband's arm. He saw that despite her mask, she was trying hard to be courteous, her smile was forced and her posture was stiff, it hadn't been longer than a few minutes but she already seemed like she was bored out of her wits.
He should just charm her with a sweet smile, or compliment her.
Not that complimenting her would do anything other than getting a polite reply and smile from her, assuming that the four other men who had approached her, and had left after she bowed slightly and smiled at them, were in that position. She was much too perfect anyway to be able to describe with one simple compliment, one would need an ode with a thousand verses to be able to do so. He frowned, An ode with a thousand verses? He shook his head. Had he been spending too much time with the local bard, or was she just that radiant that he got steered in that line of thought?
At least it's not a eulogy, but an ode. He almost smirked.
Whatever the reason may be, he decided, it was time to save her from Lord Boredom. He started walking again, and quickening his pace, and when he reached her and was close enough, he rudely cut off the gentleman talking to her by saying, "I believe you promised me a dance, milady."
Her eyes widened, her head turned to look at him, bowing slightly there with his hand extended towards her. He hoped that she wouldn't recognize him, her sister didn't seem to have recognized him when they met earlier. He had more muscle in his frame than he used to, his voice sounded a touch huskier, he sported a few weeks' worth of stubble across his jaw and chin, reaching his ever present sideburns, and there was a scar that was visible coming from beneath his mask, extending from beneath his left eye, to is left cheek, shying a few centimeters away from his earlobe.
She managed not to stutter when she replied, "I'm afraid I don't da—"
Lacking the social grace to stop himself from reaching out to take her hand, pull her one step closer to him, and whisper in her ear in the most ungentlemanly manner, he said, "It's that, or you suffer in Lord Boredom's company."
The nickname managed to draw out a giggle from her, making him smile as he pulled away. She turned to the gentleman talking to her and said, "I'm afraid I did promise a dance with this gentleman, Lord Greystoke," Oh, so that's he's name. "It was a pleasure hearing about the good well-being of Hunter and Knight."
Lord Greystoke bowed stiffly, glaring at the man who stole away his beautiful company before smiling and saying, "The pleasure was all mine, Queen Elsa," he took her hand and kissed her gloved knuckles before walking, or rather storming away.
"Hunter and Knight?" he mused loudly, as he led her to the dance floor. "Odd names. His brothers?"
"His dogs," she clarified, clearing her throat.
"He discussed his dogs with you?" he asked incredulously as he stopped walking, making her bump gently into him.
She took two steps backwards before replying, "Yes, well the Englishmen are rather obsessed with their dogs."
"I'm assuming there were other Englishmen who told you about their dogs," a small, unnoticeable smirk formed on his lips as they continued walking.
There was pause, then she grimaced, "Yes."
"And here I thought they'd be commenting on your radiant beauty," he managed to make the last two words sound a touch sarcastic, although he was being completely honest. He also managed not to grimace because the compliment sounded much too over the top. "But you are beautiful," he amended quietly. Radiant beauty? Can you be any more over the top?
Elsa felt her cheek's heat up for a moment, finding his honest and rather gruff nature a bit more appealing than the other's more flowery words and overly graceful movement— and if she had to be perfectly honest, she would say that without enough effort they'd be mistaken as women— clearing her throat she replied, "Thank you..." she trailed off, this time she was the one who stopped walking, making him stop as well because he was still holding her hand. "I'm afraid I never caught your name."
He looked at her with playful grin, "That's because I never told you," he managed not to groan, mentally slapping himself for sounding too familiar and rude, so he added, "Er, your majesty." You are definitely, and most horrifyingly out of practice.
Elsa waved her other hand dismissively, "You may call me Elsa."
His grin became wider, "Of course."
"Your name, though, would you tell me what it is?" she asked again, curious about this man who seemed quite familiar. He was like Kristoff, Anna's consort, a bit boorish but still managing to be gentlemanly, and this man also reminded her greatly about a certain Prince Hans, with his green eyes and auburn hair— he even had those sideburns, although lacking the prince's grace and her obvious dislike.
Although his hair was longer, she had noticed it when they were walking, it was tied behind him by a blue ribbon and he also had stubble across his face—and that scar, she couldn't help but be fascinated by his scar.
"No," there was a playful smile on his face.
She frowned at him, but not really minding his rudeness, "No?"
"What's the point of wearing mask if you knew whose face was behind it? It is a masquerade, your majesty," then he cleared his throat. "Elsa."
When Elsa heard him say her name, her eyes widened a bit slightly, "Hans?"
She saw him frown behind his mask, looking on either sides of him before looking back at her, "Pardon?"
"Sorry," her cheeks reddened as she shook her head. "I just thought your voice sounded familiar when you said my name."
There was that boyish half smile again, "Hans, huh? A suitor?"
"Heavens, no," she scoffed in a very unladylike manner that would make Anna proud if she heard her.
"And what, pray tell, did the fellow do to be disliked by the most beautiful woman in this room?" he asked her, there was a teasing smile on his face. He wanted to smirk but it felt like too much of an effort.
They were just standing there, in the sea of people who were talking as well, just a few more steps from the dance floor.
Elsa smiled at his compliment, before replying, "Shall we say that he did something terrible?"
"Unforgivable?" he asked curiously, he looked like puppy while asking that, Elsa thought bemusedly.
"Perhaps," she nodded. "My sister thinks so."
"And you?"
"You ask too many questions," she said, returning a small teasing smile of her own.
He chuckled, "I'm a very curious person," he was dimly aware that he was still holding her hand. "Do you think he's unforgivable, though?"
"I suppose, but I can't help but want to thank him," a small frown that graced her features. "I think he was somehow a key to my being closer with my sister."
"That's a good thing then," he grinned at her. "I'm sure he isn't as bad as I am though."
"Oh?" now, Elsa was more curious.
"My brother, he is the current king of our kingdom—"
"So you're a prince," Elsa couldn't help but comment, then smiling sheepishly and blushing slightly she said. "I'm sorry, please, continue."
He nodded, smiling back, "He sent me to live in town and work as a laborer for five years, it was his official decree that I be treated like a commoner and not a prince.
"It was a life changing experience, to say the least, I learned many things, and to be perfectly honest, I would rather be at the stables or in the fields than be in here," then he grinned at her. "Only your presence is making my experience here more tolerable."
Elsa was blushing a lot, she didn't like it but she didn't mind it either, "What did you do?"
"I would tell you, but it would defeat my purpose for anonymity," he winked at her. "And it would probably make you hate me, Elsa."
There it is again! The thought fleeted through Elsa's mind, the familiar way he says my name, "Now, I'm even more curious about you, prince."
He lowered his eyes slightly, and she could see a small, mischievous smile forming on his lips, "Perhaps a dance will convince me to tell you my story?"
One dance wouldn't hurt, right? It was only one dance after all, and Elsa didn't find any harm in just one dance. The moment they reached the dance floor, the music turned slow, the perfect, almost romantic combination of the harp, the violin and the piano. Elsa realized for the first time that she never let go of his hand when all he did was lift it up, and guide her other hand to his shoulder before his hand went down to her waist. Both of them thought they lacked grace, but they also failed to notice that most people had stopped dancing because they were awestruck by the two who danced, and glided through the dance floor as though they were flying.
They made a wonderful couple, and some found it curious and wondered if they were actually a couple. They fitted together like night and day, the perfect balance, neither seemed to overpower the other in their presence. Her, in her silvery blue dress, and him, in his black and navy-blue royal garments.
"Elsa," he had whispered her name with so much reverence it almost made her heart flutter, in that moment, she didn't care if it sounded as though it were her former enemy was saying her name. She didn't think she'd mind if it were him at all. "You truly are beautiful, and magnificent— it's a pity that we might never see each other again after this night."
This made Elsa frown, unable to stop herself, her hand went up to his cheek her finger trailed above his scar before her hand rested on her cheek, his eyes closed, and he tilted his head to her hand. Softly whispering as the music slowly died down, and their own dancing slowed, she said "Tell me who you are."
It was a plea, a soft command that he could no longer refuse. He had nothing left to lose; all he had was his title, nothing more. Even though he regained his title, he'd still have to work to earn his living; part of his punishment came in the form of his inheritance, little as it already were for a prince, being distributed to his brothers, much to their pleasure and his disdain.
"Follow me to the balcony," he said in a soft tone, he pulled at her hand slowly, never letting it go.
The balcony was empty, thank the gods, and it was far away from where the people were. Elsa's hands went to the rail, her fingers trailed over to the marble, purposely creating intricate ice patterns there despite her gloves.
"Arendelle has always had the most beautiful night sky I've ever seen," came his voice which roused her from her reverie. His voice was very soft, almost as if he was afraid that he'd disturb the peace if he raised his voice louder. "I've slept under the stars more times than I could count, even before my five years of punishment, but I've never seen the night sky look more beautiful than it does here," then his green eyes looked at her with an intensity that seemed to pierce through her soul. "Or perhaps it's because the stars shine brighter in your presence, Elsa."
This time Elsa broke free from his hold, instantly wishing for the warmth that was once there when he held her, and reached out with both her hands to remove his mask.
He took both her hands in his, shaking his head slowly, "No, not yet," he put down her hand gently. "It's not yet time."
He held her hands firmly in his, his thumb running across the top of her hand, making small circular movement on it that made Elsa shiver a bit.
"Have you heard of the mirror that distorted the hearts of everyone who looked into it?" he asked her, soulful green eyes piercing the depths of her heart as she nodded mutely.
"My face has a similar curse, one gaze upon it without my mask and you will see nothing but the vilest in it."
Her hand broke free again, landing on his cheek, her thumb tracing his scar, "Is it because of this?"
"No," he shook his head, a sad smile graced upon his lips. "I hold this scar as my medal of honor, a scar in which some people believe I have managed to redeem myself for my past."
"Tell me its story," Elsa commanded gently, as her thumb traced it one more time.
"In the winter, the wolves come down from the mountains and move into the forest closer to town. Ivan, a boy of six, the only son of the man I worked for, ventured into the forest, getting past through one of the broken fences that blocked the way to the forest.
"It wasn't my intention to save him, cruel as it sounds, but it wasn't my intention to be the first to find him either, I thought his father or some other man would, but I found him first.
"Hearing the hopelessness and abandoned plea in his voice spurred a protective feeling in me, it reminded me greatly when some of my some older brothers would pick on me and no one would come to my help, even after I've sported one black eye or a bloody nose.
"I managed to get to him before the wolves attacked him, but not without a price, I got these scars, and almost died when I got bitten," he released her hand and removed the glove on his right hand, revealing another horrible scar there. Elsa gasped softly.
"Ivan became like the little brother I never had, he grew very close and very attached to me, he was young but he was adamant about taking care of me when I went down with a horrible fever after the night I saved him.
"I lived with their family for five years, and I changed my ways for the sake of being a good example to Ivan, and redeeming myself in the eyes of my family and our people.
"As for Ivan, I cared for him and looked after him in the way my brothers didn't, or lacked in doing.
"If I hadn't lost my inheritance, I would have rather given it to them than have it split between my brothers, I owe Ivan and his family for their kindness."
His eyes bore into hers with so much guilt and sorrow that it almost stole her breath away, the intensity of his pain made her heart melt completely, feeling as though his pain was hers. She felt it as butterflies in her stomach and in the way her chest constricted when she breathe. Elsa was kind and merciful, but she was no saint. In her sea of flaws, there was one she wasn't particularly proud of, and that was her ability to lie, to create a convincing mask, and build impenetrable walls around her— walls that she desperately wanted to be torn down.
Those flaws allowed her the ability to see past a person's mask, five years ago she wasn't as perceptive, but Elsa's ability to perceive sincerity had only become greater after dealing with different people both royal, and not— she trusted in that ability, even if it meant admitting that she perceived sincerity from her former enemy.
She reached for his mask again, and this time he didn't stop her, "It's you, isn't it?" even without the mask being completely removed, the way his head moved down as though he were ashamed was confirmation enough. Not that she needed any confirmation.
"Hans," she whispered softly, her voice would have been emotionless if it weren't for the gasp that escaped her lips. But of course it was Hans, who else could it have been?
Hans was right, when she removed his mask, and saw his face completely for the first time in—no, not forever, though it could have been—five years, she saw only the vilest. Seeing him again after five long years reawakened bad memories from the past she has long since put behind her.
But Elsa chose to focus on his scar, the one he called "symbol of his redemption." And, gently forcing him to lift his head, for his eyes meet hers, "Hans, look at me," Elsa focused on the remorse and sorrow in his green eyes.
Very carefully, as though he feared her departure, Hans reached out and removed Elsa's mask. Five years had done nothing to taint the beauty of the queen, if anything, she was more beautiful than he originally remembered. There was a rueful smile on his face, when he heard the chimes of the clock inside the palace, he put back the glove one his right hand again. "It's time for you to go back inside, Elsa. Arendelle's queen needs to be in there when it's time for everyone's identities to be revealed. I have no purpose to be there because you already know who I am, and tonight, you are the only one that matters who needs to know."
"Hans, wait—"
"Shh," Hans, forgetting his manners and completely casting off his grace, kissed Elsa, it was one kiss on her lips, chaste in a way that it's passion was held back, it was quick and it's only purpose was to silence her and to satisfy the ache in his chest, but still that moment that may as well have lasted an eternity. "You cannot say another word, Elsa, or I fear I'll lose the ability to walk away."
There was a gentleness in his smile, genuine for all it was worth, "I'm afraid the clock has struck midnight, and it's time for me to leave. I cannot overstay my welcome, lest the magic between our meeting be lost.
"I don't have any golden shoe to leave for you, sadly, but keep my mask. Remember," he said, cupping her face in his gloved hands. "Remember that I am the only person capable of making those patterns," his eyes bore into hers, begging her to understand. "And only your ice is capable of confirming that.
"This mask will serve a different purpose should you seek me out. That mask will be your way to find me. So I will leave it with you."
Hans quickly took her mask and put it on her, making sure that it wouldn't fall, then he stepped back, "Tell Anna, and her consort, Kristoff, to accompany you to the Southern Isles. I will be there, and I will wait for you. I will know that I've been forgiven when you find me.
"It will be difficult to find me, as it should be. You might never try to come find me, but if waiting is my punishment, I'll accept.
"I don't deserve anything more, and you shouldn't have to go great lengths for me. Merely coming to the Southern Isles, and even your graciousness right now should be enough.
"But I'm not a simple man, and I prefer a little... fun," a small smirk touched his lips before eventually dissolving into a smile.
Hans covered her eyes with his hands, and involuntarily Elsa closed her eyes, she felt a gentle and warm, which was unusual in the winter, wind blow across her face. When she opened her eyes, Hans was gone and she could only manage a sigh, his mask was still in her hands.
She went back inside, and Anna came bounding towards her, "So, where's Prince Hottie?"
Elsa raised an eyebrow, but not really commenting on her sister's choice of adjective, "I'm afraid he already left."
"Left you his mask though," Kristoff commented, coming from behind Elsa.
Elsa held it up, "Ah, yes," she was still a bit speechless about it too.
"Did you know that everybody's talking about how you never let his hand go the entire time you were in the ballroom?" Anna asked, obviously elated and very lively, more than she usually was. "Everybody just stopped and stared at the two of you when you were dancing. Even Kristoff and I were distracted— and we were busy ourselves!" the comment made Kristoff wince and cough nervously.
Elsa cheeks reddened, noticing this, Kristoff, usually being the more insightful one despite his being slow sometimes, stated, "That was Hans though, wasn't it?"
Elsa didn't think her cheeks could get any redder, but it did, and she was thankful for the mask she was still wearing, then Krisroff continued, "I saw him walking out of the ballroom without his mask, I called him but I don't think he heard me."
Elsa sighed and absentmindedly, her fingers traced the golden patterns on his mask, she remembered what he said earlier, and humoring herself, she traced the patterns with her ice. It seemed to glow brighter and brighter but, as it seems, only she was the who saw the patterns glow.
Remember that I am the only person capable of making those patterns, and only your ice is capable of confirming that.
Seeing her sigh and look absentminded was so out of character, Anna wasn't as sensitive as Elsa when it came to seeing past someone's mask, but Anna was keen enough to know that her sister was troubled.
"We actually had one conversation," Anna confessed. "His manners reminded me a bit of Kristoff's lack of grace," she looked at Kristoff apologetically, to which the man just shrugged at, Anna lacked grace too anway. "So it removed my suspicions that he could be Hans, he sounded way too different anyway, like… kinder and genuine. So I'm willing to believe that he's changed," then she shrugged playfully, her eyes glimmered with mischievousness. "Although that doesn't mean I wouldn't be pulling a few harmless pranks on him the next time we meet."
If you meet again. Elsa almost laughed, but she only smiled. Kristoff then commented, "You can count me in on that one."
"You know, Elsa, I've never seen you smile the way you did when you were dancing with him," Anna wrapped an arm around her sister. "And for that reason, I'm willing to overlook the fact that he's Hans."
"Anna," Elsa reprimanded, but her voice lacked the conviction she wanted it to have. "I was smiling like that before I knew who he was."
"Psh," Anna waved her off. "Don't tell me you weren't suspicious about his identity," to which Kristoff nodded in agreement.
Elsa could only shake her head, "Perhaps."
"Exactly!" Anna exclaimed, making Elsa wince slightly because Anna had shouted almost directly into her ear. "And also, this is the first time I've ever seen you look so... sad."
"I'm not sad!" Elsa defended, sounding a touch indignant.
"What Anna meant to say," Kristoff cut in. "Is that you look troubled, a bit lost may I add, like you want to chase after him, but you don't know if you should. Or like you care a teeny, tiny bit," Kristoff held his thumb and index finger at eye level to prove his point about teeny, tiny.
"Do you think he could make you happy?" Anna suddenly asked, her voice was both curious and innocent. "Do you think he could make you smile that way again?"
"Do you think any other man could make you smile the way he did tonight?" Kristoff added as well.
"Are you two my voice of reason now?" Elsa asked exasperatedly before managing to compose herself. The two were and weren't making any sense.
Kristoff took the mask in Elsa's hand, and she almost snatched it back from him, "This is not golden shoe, but I think this still means we find the one who owns it."
"And find out if he is the one," Anna nodded, taking the mask from Kristoff and giving it back to Elsa.
She wasn't in love with him, gods no! She wasn't a romantic, nor was she fanciful enough to actually believe one night would be enough to fall in love with someone, and for crying out loud! The man was looking for forgiveness, not romance—but he did kiss you, a voice in her head interrupted, making her groan.
It was one meaningless kiss.
However, Elsa admitted grudgingly to herself, she was infatuated with entertaining that notion that she could love the disgraced prince after all that was her reason for writing to the king of the Southern Isles, and specifically inviting Hans to represent their crown on her coronation.
She had a very brief correspondence with Hans, after her parents' deaths, and while his more familiar way of writing to her didn't mean she could judge him as trustworthy— after all, he proved to be otherwise—it didn't mean that she wasn't interested.
Elsa held up the mask in the air, the proverbial golden slhoe, pondering about what her next move would be. Would she leave Arendelle without a proper ruler to go to the Southern Isles, and entertain the request of the man that waited for her there, or perhaps she should just write a letter to him? She didn't think it would be fair if all she did was write a letter… but she had a kingdom to run, and she was still unconvinced if it was worth leaving her kingdom to chase after one man, and have him know that he was forgiven.
In her hand a black mask, with golden
patterns, t'was no golden shoe— but
The Queen, in her reverie, pondered
what she should do. For in a foreign land
across the sea, far from her kingdom
awaits a prince—disgraced, and seeking
redemption for his past sins. The Queen
is pondering, and the Prince she once
abhorred, waits and wonder if he'll
wait forevermore.
Some of you might recognize this story from my earlier Iceburns/Helsa compilation called Bitter and Sweet. I edited it and placed it in here, so those who haven't seen my first comp., will know because I'm posting the sequel here. I'm also adding those little random quotes before the story. Three cheers for random, but appropriate quotes.
If you know of a story or a poem that I can use to make a story, just write a review or send me a message and I'll check it out.
So far I've got 5 stories I'm working on, and 1 poem.
1. The original French version used a glass slipper (as did the Disney version) but I took the liberty of using the Grimm's version and used golden shoe; and in this story, the golden show is Hans's black mask with golden patterns.
2. There were two white pigeons singing to the prince during his search for Cinderella, so he wouldn't make the mistake of marrying one of the sisters, and in this story I think those pigeons are kind of (because I just realized this later) like Kristoff and Anna.
3. That little poem at the end... I just threw it in because the entire story of Aschenputtel had those short verses in it and... yeah.
4. So, on the more obvious parts. The prince is Elsa, and Cinderella is Hans. Elsa doesn't recognize Hans at first, although she has her suspicions, but instead of putting something on him (like the glass slipper/golden shoe), she removes something from him (the mask).
5. Clock struck twelve. Midnight.
6. Subtler notes: The fairy godmother in this story is kind of... Hans's oldest brother, the King of the Southern Isles and Ivan. The "transformation" part started with the king's decree to have Hans be treated like a commoner and live in town for five years. How Ivan fits in will be explained... in the sequel.
Thanks for reading!
Cheers!