Disclaimer: Don't own anything.
"You could try with me."
Elsa turned in shock to look at Prince Hans, lounging in the shadows of the ballroom.
"You watch the couples as they twirl about the ballroom and duck out onto balconies for a romantic embrace. You want to feel the pleasure they feel but are still so afraid. But you hate me," he smirked. "With me, you wouldn't have to be careful. You could just let go."
"And you imagine I would want to be intimate with the man who played with my sister's heart?"
Again, he smiled. It was so knowing. "If you had another choice, perhaps not. But you hate me, I am here, and I was fascinated with you long before I decided to pursue your sister. Anna and Kristoff have been happily married for a year. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't hurt her. What would be the point?" He leaned closer towards her, "You want some semblance of what they have. I could give you that. And if you do lose control…" he shrugged his broad shoulders "you wouldn't care. You couldn't say that about anyone else now that your heart has thawed."
"What an exquisite offer, Prince Hans. I do think your summary of my situation is a little too limiting. After all, if I wanted to be with a treacherous former guest of my country who might once again bring harm to my family and my people, I could always have an affair with the Duke of Weselton."
He watched her walk off graceful and cool and strong. He hadn't truly planned to proposition the icy queen. But…. What else was there for him? Shipped back to his brothers in chained and disgraced, his failed plot a byword across countries, Hans was no longer a prospect for an alliance. The thirteenth son was unlucky in his endeavors, cursed by his own words and deeds.
If only. If only he had not chosen the younger sister. He should have held to his resolution to woo the elder. The events of two years past had shown Elsa to be vulnerable in a way he could have used. He had chosen the more obviously naïve sister, and then naively and hubristically exposed his plans. If only he had kept his mouth shut, he could have wailed as Anna froze, or moaned as his beloved Anna proved herself untrue in the arms of her new beloved. That would have attracted pity and he could have calmed, wooed, and controlled Elsa while gaining the sympathy and approval of her subjects.
Hans motioned to a nearby footman and grabbed a glass of champagne, wincing at the flat taste. He had hoped for so much. He could have been a king, a hero, respected by all, and a powerful player against his brothers. He drained the glass anyway. Now, although he could still crash the occasional royal celebration, he was more impotent than ever.
And then he saw her, far from home, dressed regally, and he had remembered how she looked in her ice palace, saw her gazing at the couples waltzing past, and thought why not try again.
She would never do it. Even if Anna hadn't truly loved that treacherous prince, even if she lived blissfully with Kristoff, a baby on the way, Elsa could never forget that Hans had manipulated her sister.
She couldn't accuse him of almost killing Anna – that had been Elsa's fault. And while his motives were selfish, he had done well for her kingdom when she had given into terror and fled.
If she accepted Hans' offer, and how foolish and reckless would it be to open herself to someone who had wanted to kill her and take her throne, she would be betraying Anna. Wouldn't she?
But Hans was right – well partially right. Love had freed her. Her sister's devotion had saved her life, and taught Elsa how to use her powers. And so she used her skill to build and help. She allowed herself to show more of herself. And her subjects responded, rallying around her in a way she hadn't allowed them to when one thought echoed in the gelid chambers of heart and mind.
But sometimes she missed the woman in the palace of ice who had had such a brief time to stand strong against the storm. To be a part of and to enjoy the storm.
And she knew she didn't need to be a part of a couple, no matter what her father's advisors said when suggesting alliances with this prince or that. She could rule alone – well not alone – she had Anna and Kristoff and soon would be an aunt. She had her advisors and courtiers and subjects. She did want people in her life. But she knew that if she needed to, an ice palace waited. It didn't have to be a desperate measure. It didn't have to be a last choice. She could be strong on her own for the right reasons.
She didn't need to mock the importance of love with some reckless experience with a proven menace.
She hadn't understood what drew her sister to the prince. Not really. More than that she hadn't wanted to let Anna go so quickly. And it had half saddened and half pleased her that the now cautious Anna had waited a year to make sure she loved Kristoff enough to marry him. Neither sister had weathered the storm untouched.
Anna welcomed her sister back to Arondelle happily. Drawing her sister down to a bench by a fountain, she linked their arms and sighed. "I missed you, Elsa."
"You could have come to the Princess' sixteenth birthday ball."
"Kristoff doesn't like leaving Sven behind. And" Anna patted the mound under her embroidered skirts "your niece or nephew doesn't make dancing easy. How about you? Did you dance?"
"A little," Elsa replied.
"It must have been lovely. I am sure you were. I am sure every man there wanted …"
"I danced. I didn't fall in love. "
"You can't be afraid. Elsa, I'm not trying to push but romance, a wonderful husband, expecting a child …. Don't be afraid of really reaching out."
"I'm not afraid exactly," Elsa faltered in her explanation. Then she slumped on the bench. "Funny, even Prince Hans thinks I need …"
"Prince Hans?" Anna's voice squeaked.
"Yes, he was at the ball."
"They invited him? He is not being punished?"
"Maybe inviting him was the punishment," Elsa joked.
Anna refused to be calmed. She hoisted herself up and paced. "Oh Elsa, what if he tries something. That poor princess only sixteen years old. He didn't…"
"As far as I could tell, he didn't talk to anyone." Except me she thought.
"Except you," Anna commented worriedly. "He can't come back to Arondelle and his bothers promised that…"
"It doesn't matter, Anna. I wouldn't open myself up to his…"
"But that's just it," Anna interrupted. "You don't open yourself up to anyone in that way. And you are so loving. Elsa, I know I was a fool to believe in his charms but at least I wanted to experience everything. You, you're still so closed off sometimes. I just wish…it's not even the man really, it's you…"
"Me?" Elsa tried to keep the hurt out of her voice. She knew Anna loved her. Anna had proven that in small ways as well as the obvious one when she saved Elsa's life at nearly the cost of her own. But to be told that she wasn't enough the way she was…that she needed to be someone else… that was opening a wound that had never truly closed.
"I mean I would never judge who you fell in love with, if only you were happy. I just want to see you happy, Elsa."
And Elsa relaxed. Maybe she had read too much into her sister's words.
"I am happy, Anna. One day, maybe, I will find happiness in the way you mean but I am happy now. I don't need…"
She stopped because Anna was looking at her pityingly. And so she turned the conversation back to daily events, what the trolls wanted to name the baby, how Kristoff and Anna had gone on a breathtaking sleigh ride, while Elsa tried to forget,
He saw her next at a diplomatic meeting between two small nations. His brother was too busy or too unwilling to act as witness to the tension-filled accord. Queen Elsa had made time to help promote the peace outside her country's borders. He knew, everyone knew, that her ministers had sent her as an unofficial way to introduce her to a possible suitor.
It was laughable, watching his fellow princes court the ice queen. Some pretended to be fascinated by her powers and others by her beauty. Some probably meant it. Her power, both magical and monarchical was alluring and her beauty was undeniable. However, she seemed incredibly wary. His fault perhaps. He had taught the sisters not to trust in smooth words. And yet, she had been closed off even before, walling her heart, and slamming the gates closed at every attempt to get close.
This time was different. He saw her try. But her heart clearly wasn't in the brief conversations and her eyes never sparkled when her dinner partners fulsomely complimented her.
"I see the Duke of Weselton was not made happy nor turned into a block of ice. Perhaps, you have deduced I am the only reasonable solution to your quandary."
"You think I could make a man happy?"
"I know you could freeze him – if you wanted to. Do you want to make a man happy?" He lowered his voice and tried to remember how the new Consort of the Princess of Corona had smoldered at his wife. It had seemed a very effective move. "Do you want me to make you happy?"
"As if I could trust you…"
"I'm not asking you to trust me with your life, or your heart, or your kingdom. Though if you are willing to offer them….." He laughed at the disbelief in her eyes. "Yes, I know. Unlikely. But really, your majesty, in such a small thing as a few stolen hours, couldn't you trust me to make you feel"
"Feel what?" she asked "hatred?"
"Oh just feel. I know your poor neglected heart already loathes me for two years ago, the way you still loathe yourself for what you might have controlled if only… Oh I didn't say you could or should have controlled it. But I could slide my palms down your arms, could clasp you round the waist, could kiss you, not just on your lips but…"
"And you think this cheap itinerary of your seduction plans will work?"
"Probably not," he said simply. "But if it did work, just think of what you might feel."
For all his charm, he wasn't that persuasive she tried to tell herself. Perhaps it was because she knew him. Well she didn't know him – she just knew he had pretended to be everything her sister had ever hoped and dreamed. Was this what she wanted? A man who allowed her to keep her doubts while offering her a shortcut to the interactions she observed and imagined.
She had thought, if not with quite the same headlong rush to find it as Anna, that true love was the ultimate goal. Anna had thought she was in love. Elsa knew she wasn't. She wasn't sure she was particularly attracted to him. She couldn't look at him without seeing her sister's joy and her sister's fear.
And yet, Hans had given her a surprisingly tempting option. His words haunted her. She didn't know his ultimate goal – a knife in the dark when she was unprepared? A scandal to hound her? An attempt to father an heir to her country? Surely he didn't think she would marry him? She just didn't know.
"You're over thinking it," Hans commented straightening up from his unsuccessful and uncomfortable pose.
"Am I?" She doubted she was thinking correctly at all. If she were, she wouldn't be giving any weight to his proposal.
"Yes. Let me prove it to you."
She walked away. Again.
He sat in his suite of rooms in the east wing, what amounted to a cell for the unwanted and untrustworthy younger sons and brothers of kings, and plotted. If he could arrange a catastrophe on the way to an event, some time in which he would be with her alone, in which she would have to depend on him… And he would most likely end up a block of ice. She would see through the manipulations and schemes.
If he met her at another ball, steered her out onto a balcony, cornered her against the balustrade, pressed his lips to hers… And he would definitely end up a block of ice.
He knew she was teetering on the edge. He had seen it in her eyes. A month, he had a month before he would be let out for his next official duties. Another month in which Elsa might meet her true prince, the one who would love and adore her and inspire the ice queen to feel those sentiments.
He should give up this foolish plan and concentrate on a more attainable girl. Someone who had not yet heard of his villainy, or who might be persuaded that he was innocent, or reformed. But he was growing obsessed with Elsa.
He sat at his writing desk, took a sheet of vellum, dipped the fountain pen, and hoped for inspiration.
The box arrived by messenger. She received it as diplomatically as she could and watched as he opened the chest to reveal a bouquet of flowers made from marzipan. Almost instinctively she reached out, but stopped herself before her gloved fingers could touch one of the candy delights. Instead she carefully opened the envelope next to the flowers. He could have poisoned the marzipan, or the envelope, or the letter she thought wildly.
Your Majesty,
Perhaps this letter ought to address you as Elsa, but your majesty is what draws me to you. I am sure it does, Elsa thought bitterly as she read Prince Hans' unexpected offering. Are you at court, my dear Snow Queen? I fear the marzipan will go to waste- although I assure you it is just candy. I would not risk a diplomatic incident that would clearly lead to my downfall and my brother the king's unavoidable wrath. Indeed, if I were there I would happily share the candy with you, as I would eagerly share so many other things if you would let me. My throne, Elsa thought. My bed. She stopped that train of thought before a blush could paint her pale cheeks and give her away to the curious courtiers. Think of how sweet it would be to spend more time together.
Hans, Prince of the Southern Isles
She thanked the messenger, sent missives of greeting to the King of the Southern Isles, but did not eat the candy.
A week later, another package came, with a letter.
Queen Elsa,
I was told that my last present did not please. I never said that, Elsa thought. Oh you were very polite, but my messenger had orders to see if you tasted the treat. Spying on me. Your majesty, his orders were not meant as an invasion of your privacy. I have very little privacy as queen. After all, the delights I hope for us to share require that same privacy you guard so dearly. Hope and write, Prince Hans, but I cannot and will not let your sweet gifts and carefully chosen words impact me.
"And then what happened, Eric?"
"Her majesty's eyes widened. She opened the package containing the clinging vine seedlings, expressed doubt that the hardy Arondelle clime would be suitable for such a plant, thanked the Southern Isles graciously for the gift and summoned the gardener."
"And?"
"That was all your highness."
"You may go." As soon as the messenger had left his chambers, Hans stalked back and forth across the marble floors. This was not working out at all as he had imagined. True, he knew he had very little chance to win Elsa's cooperation. And yet, making his plans, ordering the gifts, sending the letters, he had felt success within his grasp.
So much for his hopes.
He could let his brother finally arrange a marriage to that unpleasant but wealthy countess.
No! He would still be subject to his brother's whims and …. And he wanted Elsa. While there was a chance he could win Elsa, gain her attention, win power, have freedom, he would keep pursuing the queen.
She was looking at the dancers once again. He was whispering suggestions in her ear. And oh, she didn't know how or why, but the desire to take him up on them was growing stronger.
She couldn't trust him. It was pointless to think about.
Think about what he could do or say after. But what if, what if she asked the trolls to take away his memory of that night?
That was awful. How could she even think that an acceptable plan? She couldn't rob him of his memories. More than that, she didn't want to have the burden of being the only one holding such a secret.
Why couldn't she just take what he so insistently offered and brave the consequences? She had chosen to let everything go before, to ignore what others said. Why was it so difficult to renew that vow now? As wonderful, as freeing, as that decision in her ice palace had been, it would be harder not to care if her sister and her subjects turned away. It would be harder to remain ice cold and defiant if her actions once again brought danger to Arondelle.
"You've been thinking about my offer," he smirked. "Are you ready for me to show you what you have been missing, standing here on the sidelines."
"Yes."
