This is my first excursion into any sort of creative writing in several years, and my first fan fiction, so I would very much appreciate any & all feedback! Be kind but critical, yeah?

The introductory chapter below takes place during Frozen's conclusion (shortly before the final scene). Because of that it can for the most part stand on its own, and is a bit different than what I have planned for the rest of the chapters, both in tone and style. No smut yet, but don't worry, we'll work our way there, and it will be oh so much better for us having waited ;)

I was hesitant to post this before getting some more work done on the next few chapters, but every time I tried writing those I ended up coming back and re-editing this one instead. So I'm just going to put it here so I can get on with the rest of the story. Enjoy!

The Chains Our Fathers Built

Conceal, don't feel.

Elsa walked briskly down the dank stone corridor. She would have preferred to be tiptoeing along, slinking slowly through the shadows - or even better, running at a full sprint in the opposite direction- but she had made up her mind, there was no going back, and she might as well move quickly and get this over with. Putting it off or dragging it out would just torture her for the rest of the day. Better to get it done and behind her, sooner rather than later.

She had been in this hallway the previous day, as well, not that she remembered it, by virtue of being unconscious. She hadn't missed much; this was the one part of the castle in which appearances were not considered important. No tapestries or stained glass windows down here, that was for sure.

Her last time here before that- in fact, the only other time in her twenty-one years she had been in this part of the castle- had been some five years earlier, with her father. A necessary part of her education as heir to the throne, he had said. She had protested, fearing that the heavy subject matter would provoke her curse to bubble up out of control. But her father had insisted, and his steady tone and solemn words had been imparted on her without incident. Those words echoed in Elsa's mind, the memory threatening to make her steps falter, but she soldiered on. She knew what she had to do.

'Actions have consequences, Elsa, and the more power the actor has, the graver these consequence can be. This is true both of the power of a royal edict, and of... other powers.'

'Other powers.' For the most part, he had hid it well, but she knew he had become afraid of her as she grew older. How could he not have been? She had been even more afraid of herself. Cursed with far too much power for a child to have. For anyone to have. If the past week had done anything, it had hammered home the sheer amount of inherent risk there was in one fragile person being imbued with that much power. Growing up, she had been shackled by the responsibility of keeping that power in check. Now, she was responsible for an entire kingdom.

Too much power. Too much risk.

She shook her head and continued on. Couldn't let those thoughts burden her now. Not when she had a job to do.

Conceal, don't feel.

Hazy light filtered in through the infrequent windows, high and barred, but most of the illumination in the passage came from torchlight. The irregular flickering cast long, shifting shadows, their contorted forms dancing along the walls like phantoms trying to ward her off from her task, to have her turn heel and run.

'You'll be queen one day, Elsa, and it might be tempting to delegate this part of the job- the sentencing- to a subordinate, and wash your hands of it entirely. My father chose that path, and for all the sleep it saved him, as I grew up I started to understand how very wrong it was. I pray of thee, don't shy away from it. If you never come here yourself, it's easy to forget. And maybe you'd rather forget. But the strength of a ruler, of a kingdom, comes from facing the things you want to forget head on, challenging them, and conquering them.'

The words were as full of wisdom as they were dripping of irony. Elsa only wished that she had had the prudence, five years ago, to apply the same mantra of challenging your fears to certain other aspects of her life. My, how things could have been different. For her, for her parents, for all of Arendelle.

For Anna.

Eyes forward, Elsa proceeded deeper into the dungeon.

Conceal, don't feel.

The shadows flickered through a stout iron gate blocking the corridor at this point. Two guards flanked it, and as Elsa approached they snapped to full attention.

"Your Majesty."
"At ease. He's back here?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."

The guards loosened their stature, but were clearly not at ease. Elsa idly wondered if they were the same guards that been on duty as she had been dragged unconscious through this gate the previous day. Or if they were aware they'd been accessories to high treason. She wasn't going to hold it against them.

'Bad choices don't always mean bad people, Elsa. Being able to tell the difference between the two is critical. Nothing is black and white. And even bad people usually have reasons behind what they do, even if their logic is twisted. We can't always understand that logic. But we have to try.'

If they were the same guards, they weren't going to be broaching the subject with her. At ease. Elsa couldn't imagine ever being truly at ease in a place like this. Especially not after yesterday.

Conceal, don't feel.

One guard pulled his keyring off his belt and unlocked the gate, the creak of metal on metal sending a shiver down Elsa's spine- rare for her, given her immunity to cold.

The second guard followed her through the gate, and it pulled shut with a groan lamenting all that was wrong in the world. It would have been thematically fitting for the corridor to grow even darker at this point, and under normal circumstances, it would have. But the gaping hole in the wall of the nearest cell let in more than enough light, reflected off of the shining blue waters of the fjord. Several iron bars had already been fitted into the ugly tear in the stone that had so recently delivered her to freedom. There might have been symbolism to be found, there, but Elsa couldn't bear to give it more than a passing glance.

The next group of cells were less private than the one Elsa had been locked in, and the one she was headed to, with barred gates facing the hallway rather than solid iron doors. Petty thieves and other common criminals were confined in the town gaol down by the waterfront; to be placed here, in the palace dungeon, these men must have all committed horrific acts. Elsa knew none of the details; they had all been sentenced by the Lord Regent prior to her coronation. Some of them lay inert as she passed, not giving her a second glance: others rose or came to the bars, eyeing her as she passed.

'The men here are desperate, and will use any means at their disposal to try and gain favor for a royal pardon. A few are stupid enough to think boasts or threats will work, but most of the time, they will attempt to garner pity. The blind, elderly mother they need to take care of, their poor, starving children, each tale sadder than the last. Make no mistake, Elsa: our responsibility to provide for our subjects, even the families of these men, comes second to our responsibility to protect those subjects: all too often, from these men.'

None of them seemed to be in the mood for begging, today. If they hadn't seen the frost spilling out from underneath her cell door the previous day, or the hole torn in the wall, they'd certainly have heard of it by now - and that show of force had apparently been robust enough to silence even these hardened criminals.

"Here, Your Majesty."

This guard reached for his keys now, and opened the solid iron door in front of them.

"Shall I accompany you, Your Grace?"
"I don't think he's stupid enough for that to be necessary."
"As you wish."

The door swung open, and Elsa stepped forward to confront the face of evil.

Conceal, don't fe- no.

Not today.

Not today, and never again.

Challenge. Conquer.

"Prince Hans."

He had the audacity to look as if he were lounging; lying on the small, hard bed, one foot crossed casually over the other, hands behind his head. Elsa took solace in knowing that he was certainly less comfortable than he wanted her to believe he was: the shackles on his wrists, while not as sturdy as the manacled gauntlets she had worn a day ago, must've been biting into the back of his skull quite painfully.

"Queen Elsa. Come to gloat? Doesn't seem like your style."
"No. It's not."
"Mmm. A quick sentencing, then. I wasn't expecting you to deliver the good news yourself."

His tone indicated that he very much did not expect there to be any good news. He sat up, tugging on his chains a bit so he could rest his hands in front of him. Elsa had spent merely hours in the dungeon, but she knew how quickly it could wear on you. Hans had only been there overnight, but from the looks of his face he had obviously not slept at all. Unshaven, hair disheveled, dark circles under his eyes and a vulgar welt where the Princess had struck him... he was still wearing the same damp clothes he had fallen into the fjord with. Not that Elsa felt any pity for him.

"Actually, I came to thank you."

The thin veneer of nonchalance he had been grasping hold of slipped completely off. Clearly he hadn't expected this. He spat back, bitterly:

"I may have never cared for Anna, either, but you must be quite the piece of work, to hate her so much that you would thank me for how I treated her."

'When they know all hope is lost, and give in to despair, sometimes they'll simply try to get a rise out of you, preying on anything they see as weakness. An angry or violent outburst, a shouting match, that's exactly what they're hoping for... with nothing left to live for, they can be content to use their last days to impart what little cruelties they can on others, if not physically, then emotionally. Don't let yourself fall victim to it lest they cloud your judgment with rage.'

Elsa didn't take the bait.

Challenge. Conquer.

"Anna and I have never been closer."

If Hans was disappointed by that response, he didn't show it- though it would have been hard to tell, as he was already about as dejected as it was possible for a man to be. Seeing how broken he was after only a day in the gaol, Elsa was almost glad that she had been unconscious for most of her stay.

"And that's what you're here to thank me for, then? For driving her closer to you, out of desperation?"

Again with the taunting. No point in dignifying it with a response, and she certainly wasn't going to let his unpleasantness force her more quickly to her point. Elsa wanted this conversation to be on her terms. Hans would tire of these jabs sooner or later.

The prince had been staring at the window, but was provoked by Elsa's silence to turn, now, and met her unwavering stare. The shadows, both in the room and in his soul, left his usually bright and calculating eyes dark, dead, and empty. He looked every bit the part of a man about to be sentenced to death.

'Even stronger than the temptation to hide from this duty can be the urge to give in to the dark part of yourself that wants to show no mercy, give no quarter, harbor no restraint. The enormity of their crimes, the blackness of their character, can easily be overwhelming: and it only makes too much sense to respond to overwhelming evil with overwhelming force. It would be all too simple just to burn them all. But that's not how we do things. I ask myself every time I come here how I can be sure I won't give in to that urge. There is no easy answer, Elsa. It's a constant balancing act on the edge of razor. Give too much, and you'll be used. Too little, and you'll be feared and hated. '

Elsa had put up with enough fear and hatred for a lifetime. But maybe it was too late for her to be truly loved by her people- the first few days of her reign might have spoiled that for good. Too much power. Would every interaction with her subjects be underscored by their fear that any misstep would invoke the wrath of the- what was the nickname? The Snow Queen of Arendelle? No, that was the nicer one... the Frost Witch. That was it. Was becoming that witch a price Elsa was willing to pay, it if it meant she - or more importantly, her sister - would never again be used by the likes of Hans? Or could she truly trust herself enough to walk that razor's edge?

"'Don't be the monster they fear you are.' That was what you said to me on the North Mountain, was it not?"

It had been, verbatim. Elsa was sure of it. Hans didn't disagree, and was apparently curious enough as to where Elsa was going with it that for once he didn't strike back with a snide retort.

"You were just plotting, biding your time, waiting for the right moment to make your move, Hans. But on that mountain, when you stayed my hand... you did something good. Maybe the only good thing you've ever done in your wretched life. I was going to kill that thug from Wesselton, Hans. And if he died, I would have surely have killed the other. Then, the rest of the guards would have arrived..."

Hans shivered. Elsa thought it might have just been the damp clothes, until she saw his breath cloud in front of him. No visible frost, at least. They both knew what she was capable of, and there was no need to make a show out of it.

Challenge. Conquer.

"I was right there on the razor's edge, Hans, and you pulled me back. I wish I could say that coming so close to that edge scared me. But what's really scary... is that it didn't.

"Oh, how I wanted to be the monster right then, Hans. It would have been so easy- it surprised me how easy. That was a line I had never expected to toe, let alone cross. And if I had crossed it... I don't think I would ever have been able to come back. Perhaps Anna would still have loved me... that girl's heart is a national treasure. Worth more than all the gold in Arendelle, and you threw it away... but that's beside the point. If I had crossed that line I would have been no more worthy of her love than you are.

"I guess you're able to live with that. I don't think I could have."

Now for the hard part. If he had only come after Elsa, that would have been one thing. She could forgive an offense against her; it made sense for people to hate and fear her. She couldn't blame them, having spent most of her life hating and fearing herself. She understood why someone- the Duke of Wesselton, for example- would want to hurt her or kill her, and could overlook those transgressions. She was willing to expose herself to some amount of risk if it meant being able to show mercy, to dispense justice.

But poor, sweet Anna? How could Elsa put her at risk? She had grown up so much in the time they had been separated, but Elsa was still having a hard time seeing her as anything other than a doe-eyed, innocent little five-year-old girl who wanted nothing other than to build a snowman with her sister. And Elsa had a duty, both as her queen and as her older sister, to protect that little girl. She had already suffered so much because of Hans. Even the slightest chance that he could hurt her again gave Elsa grounds to tear him limb from limb right now, in this room, never to look back.

'You can never concern yourself with revenge. It has to be about justice. The difference can seem trivial sometimes, even banal, and there is no solid agreement on what constitutes what. But as a ruler, you have to be able to tell the difference. You have to know that there is meaning in the sentences passed here. To know you can be decisive even in matters of life and death, and to know what it means to be fair, just, and impartial even when the crimes committed were horrible... or even personal. That might not be something I can teach you, Elsa: it isn't written down in any book. It's something you'll have to learn for yourself. But you have to know.'

And she did know. It killed her to be so certain, when every fiber of her being was screaming at her that she had to be wrong. Not because she was wrong, but because she wanted to be wrong. But right now, she knew.

Forgive me, Anna.

"You may be a monster, Hans, but you're a court jester compared to the monster that might have been unleashed in me. The monster you made sure stayed locked away. That's what I'm here to thank you for. Whatever your selfish, traitorous reasons, when you kept that part of me at bay, you placed Arendelle in your debt. You may now consider that debt paid in full. Count LeBlanc will be departing for France within the hour. He has been kind enough to agree to take a detour through the Southern Isles with you as an honored guest in his ship's brig. You are your older brothers' problem now."

Hans jerked back. He looked suspicious, as if Elsa was toying with him to give him false hope before cruelly yanking the rug out from under him and impaling him on a shaft of ice. That was fine with Elsa; let him spend the voyage south constantly in fear of having his throat slit and being unceremoniously dumped overboard without a moment's notice. Whatever small torment it gave him was deserved a thousand times over.

"If you ever set foot in Arendelle again, you had better pray to the gods that the guards kill you on sight, for both our sakes. Because if I ever find you in this dungeon again I very much doubt I will be able to stop myself from becoming that monster."

Without waiting to see his reaction, Elsa turned sharply and strode out the door. As the door slammed behind her and the guard clicked the locks into place, she let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, and rubbed her bare wrists with her hands. No gloves... but no ice.

Her third trip to the dungeons was concluded. Better than the second, for sure, and how she wished it could be the last. But armed as she was with her father's words, she knew she would be back. Hans would not be the last demon she would have to stare down as Queen.

Challenge. Conquer.

The third visit of many more to come.

But with any luck, the next of those visits would not be for some time. With every step she took towards the gaol's exit, her heart lightened.

Let it go.