Author's Note: Thanks to my best friend IRL and also yumi-michiyo for beta-reading this, and to katsudov on Tumblr for helping me develop the concept way back when. Also shout-outs to the always-wonderful and patient lisuli79. In fact, you're all too patient with me, so thanks bunches.
I.
"Do you know why I called for you, little brother?"
Hans looked bored as he stood before the throne, and rocked back on his heels. "No idea, Your Majesty."
His eldest brother's gaze narrowed. "Her Majesty, Queen Elsa of Arendelle, is finally paying us a visit," he said. "No one told you?"
The youngest prince stood to attention, his brow twitching. "No one tells me anything, apparently," he replied, clasping his hands together behind his back. "I suppose you'll be locking me up in the dungeons while she's here, so you can all pretend like you've actually been punishing me for my crimes against her kingdom?"
The king frowned. "Don't try my patience, Hans," he warned, folding his arms, "and no, you will not be 'locked up' during her visit. But I do expect you to be on your best behavior, should you two have the misfortune of running into each other during her stay."
Hans stared at his sibling in disbelief. "What—you're just going to let me roam the palace unguarded, even while she's here?" he asked. "Don't you think that she might object to that, Your Highness?"
"Her Majesty has already agreed to visit on these terms," the king replied, baffling his youngest brother. "It appears that she does not fear you as she once did."
He paused as Han remained in shock, and then smiled. "Though I would still warn you against saying anything foolish to the Queen, if the right hook of her younger sister is anything to go by," he remarked, tapping his right eye for emphasis.
Hans frowned at the reminder. "I'd be more worried about her ice than her punch," he muttered.
The king's stare was cool. "I highly doubt that Her Highness would want to waste her powers on you."
Hans swallowed, his smile thin. "You're right, of course, Your Majesty. She wouldn't bother."
His brother nodded. "Good, I'm glad we're agreed on that point. You may go now."
Hans bowed deeply, allowing himself a moment to scowl at the marble floor below. When he rose to stand, his expression had returned to one of false admiration.
"As you wish, Your Highness."
You're no match for Elsa. I, on the other hand—
He winced at the memory.
You didn't turn out to be much of a "hero" at all, did you?
The idea made him scoff as he sat on the floor in the archives of the library, having long since given up on trying to read an old encyclopedia on the history of Arendelle and its surrounding kingdoms.
In fact, he was so far from even the notion of heroism that he could hardly believe he'd ever once thought himself capable of being considered one. That was evident enough, he thought, from his current seat amongst dusty stacks of long-forgotten books.
Still, it gave him the quiet he needed after his conversation with the king; he closed the book he'd been skimming and laid it in his lap as he leaned against a shelf, staring at the thin pillar of light filtering in from the small skylight above him.
It appears that she does not fear you as she once did.
His brows furrowed. Even if that were the case - seeing as two years had passed since his "incident" in Arendelle, and he was sure that the business of managing a kingdom had kept its queen too busy to dwell on the past - he didn't understand how she could accept his presence during her visit, let alone run the risk of running into him while there.
More to the point, he thought, how can she accept the fact that I wasn't imprisoned after what I did to her and Anna?
It appeared, after all, that his brother had told the Queen that Hans had been under house arrest in the palace for all this time, and yet she'd agreed to come all the same.
But… why?
He remembered the fire in her blue eyes at the ball following her coronation when she refused to give her blessing to his and Anna's engagement. More to the point, he recalled the horror in that same gaze when he told her that she'd killed her own sister, and the way the storm was suspended in mid-air by her heartbreak.
There was no way she could have forgotten all of that, and yet—
She does not fear you as she once did.
Perhaps his brother was right, and it was really that simple: she had, no doubt, heard the tale of his return to the court of the Southern Isles as a wretched failure, unceremoniously dumped in chains at the dock by the French ambassador sporting an impressive black eye. That being followed by his continued humiliation through being placed under "house arrest" - confined to the palace grounds and all his titles taken away - only to be rolled out for special occasions to entertain drunken courtiers or visiting dignitaries. After learning all of that, surely it would be natural for her to feel confident that the youngest prince no longer posed a threat to her, nor to anyone else.
Nonetheless, the idea that she could be completely unaffected by it - by him - unsettled Hans.
I don't believe it.
The Queen of Arendelle's arrival was greeted with all the adoring fanfare that a visiting monarch usually received at court, if not more on account of her legendary powers and beauty. Lords, ladies, and peasants alike formed long queues along the roadsides, palace walls, and garden hedges just to catch a glimpse of her, to touch the train of her dress as she passed, or to be, for a fleeting moment, the recipient of her regal gaze.
At least, that was what he'd overheard from conversations throughout the palace traded in high, excited tones between dull damsels and simple squires. The truth, he imagined, was far less thrilling.
Although he knew he could trail after her wherever she went at court, or even go right up to her and kiss her hand and ask her to dance, he understood his place better than that.
(And he knew that when the king had told him to be on his "best behavior" during her visit, what he'd meant was stay out of sight, Hans, if you know what's good for you.)
And so he had, to the point that he was disappointed not to overhear any concerns that he might show up and confront the Ice Queen in the whispers at court. Instead, all of the tittering laughs and feigned smiles seemed purely centered on currying her favor, even if only in the form of a quick glance or a rare smile from her pale lips.
Lips, he realized, that I have not seen in a long time.
The thought reignited his curiosity about her in a way that all of his eavesdropping had not, and it brought back to his mind memories of that time which he'd tried hard to forget since his ignominious return home.
As heir, Elsa was preferable, of course.
He suddenly recalled, even more clearly than the look of shock on Anna's face, his original plans for his visit to Arendelle - wooing the newly-crowned Queen Elsa at her coronation ball, marrying her, becoming her King - and the knowledge of how they fell apart cast a shadow across his face.
But no one was getting anywhere with her.
At the time, that had seemed to be the only truth, for how could he have swept the Queen of Ice and Snow off her feet after years spent in isolation from the outside world, with no knowledge of love (and certainly none of romance) outside of books? And after seeing her powers at their full strength, how could he pursue her without putting his own life at risk?
She doomed herself.
Given what he'd heard about her "love life" - or lack thereof - since then, it seemed unlikely that anyone would be getting "anywhere" with her anytime soon. Rumors had circulated for years that she had already rejected a handful of suitors since the end of the Long Winter, though the court at Arendelle appeared to be far more tolerant of having an unmarried queen than the one of the Southern Isles.
He supposed a part of him admired her independence, if not at the same time was a little jealous of it. She, after all, had everything that he'd ever wanted or desired: a crown upon her head, a kingdom under her control, a citizenry that adored her, and a family that lov—
"Enough of that," he cut off his own train of thought. He stood from his unmade bed in his chambers, ignoring the cloud of dust that followed his sudden movement. Staring into the mirror above his desk opposite, he saw his reflection peer back at him in the day's fading light.
I will see you again, Elsa.
He waited until the moment was right.
It didn't come until her fourth full day in the Isles - after she had completed all of her requisite tours of the docks, stepped aboard the kingdom's famed cargo ships, greeted high-ranking officers of the Royal Navy, sampled the famed seafood in the villages nearest to shore - but if Hans had learned anything in all his years of scheming, it was to be patient.
And to listen.
He paid close attention to the conversations of his brother's advisers as they left the throne room that morning, just the same way he used to when he was younger. They were indiscreet as always, broadcasting the private itinerary of the visiting queen for all to hear as they trundled down the halls. It made it easy for him to piece together where she would be and when following her day out: stuck in meetings with the king and those advisers until the early evening, and then in attendance at a private dinner with the queen and some of his brothers.
He planned his own schedule accordingly, spending most of the day as a shadow, invisible, absorbing as much information as he could about her stay so far. He learned which dresses she'd worn where, the style her hair had been in on Monday versus Wednesday, the state of Arendelle's ice trade, and the particulars of the negotiations that had brought her to the Isles. Anything and everything related to her became of interest to him… just as it had been the first time he visited Arendelle.
I just want to get a good look at her, he told himself. I can't expect anything more than that.
He straightened out his white jacket and the olive cravat under his chin - the same clothes he'd worn during their first meeting - though of course neither were in such fine condition as on that evening, and his jacket no longer bore its signature epaulettes. He supposed she would prefer to see it that way, considering how she must think of him.
If she even thinks of you at all.
He frowned as his brother's voice reminded him of his insignificance. He couldn't - no, wouldn't - accept that someone he had once so terribly wronged could forget him. And I don't want her to, he thought as he left his room, taking care to avoid all his usual shortcuts and secret routes.
If he was going to see her, to stand before her, and to look at her, then he would damn well make sure that everyone else would watch him do it.
Of course, nothing ever came that easily for the last-born prince of the Southern Isles.
Dinner with his sister-in-law and brothers went on for hours while he milled conspicuously about the great halls of the palace, ignoring the glares from the guards stationed outside of the dining chamber.
I should've known this would happen, he thought, irritated. Karoline always drones on, let alone how Adrian and Frederick like to boast and gloat like buffoons.
He almost felt a little sorry for the Ice Queen, trapped at a table with his relatives. He was sure that she was wishing she could use her powers to blast a hole in the wall and escape the insipid company.
The idea made him grin a bit to himself as he waited, let alone all the other things he imagined would follow such a cataclysmic breach of propriety (the hair-pulling of the princes' wives, the shouting and accusations of the princes), and it kept his mind occupied until he finally heard the doors open, their creaks echoing throughout the palace.
He hid in the shadows of a nearby corridor on instinct, watching his brothers and their wives pass in a jovial, drunken horde. However, as soon as he realised what he was doing, he cursed himself under his breath, stepping out into the central hall again.
It was lucky, then, that the two queens had remained behind in the hall to speak a while longer. An opportunity to confront her in person remained, and he stayed firmly in his spot near the doors where he was illuminated by both moon and torchlight.
She'll have to see me, now.
The guards leered at him from their posts, hands rested on the hilts of their swords. He patted down his jacket and trousers before raising his hands in mock surrender to them, and returned their unpleasant expressions with a nonchalant smile.
"Hans! What are you doing here?"
The prince, at last, was rewarded for his patience. "Your Majesty, my apologies for the intrusion," he bowed to Karoline, who, along with her gaggle of horrified-looking handmaidens, was blocking his view of the guest of honor. "I was just taking an evening stroll through the palace."
"He's been lurking around for a while now, Your Highness," a guard to his left corrected. "Don't believe a word he says."
The queen's back straightened, and she eyed Hans with her chin raised. "I wouldn't, of course—thank you Josef," she said. "Now, brother, would you please go? I'm sure our guest doesn't want to see you."
"Are you, Your Highness?" he returned, catching the edges of the Ice Queen's silk dress at the corner of his vision, the pale skin of her shoulder, a wisp of golden hair. "Have you asked her?"
Karoline reddened. "As if I would need to ask such a thing after what you did, you impertinent little—"
"It's all right, Your Majesty."
He hardly had time to catch his breath before she stepped out from behind her host, entering into and sharing his light in one smooth, long movement. He fought the urge to swallow as he took in her figure, her cream-colored dress bathing her in an unearthly glow, before he met the blue eyes he remembered so well.
Finally.
She turned to face the queen. "Please go on to bed, Your Highness. I'd like to speak with the Prince alone, if I may."
Karoline was bemused. "But Queen Elsa, I really must protest—"
"It's all right," her guest interrupted. "I can assure you that I'm more than capable of defending myself."
She conjured a snowflake for effect, and the queen flushed with embarrassment. "If you must, Your Highness," she conceded, shooting Hans a threatening look. "I'll see you in the morning. Good night."
"Good night," Elsa replied, and curtsied as the queen retreated with her reluctant and tittering ladies-in-waiting and personal guardsmen. With another quick glance to her right and left, the Ice Queen's own ladies and guards likewise went out of sight.
Hans watched the events unfold with wonder; she had become, in the two years since he'd last seen her, rather remarkable.
Her eyes were back on him in what seemed like a flash of light, all of the softness and grace gone from her expression as it appraised him. "I expected I might run into you at some point," she said, "but you've always had very poor timing."
He blinked in surprise, almost smiling, and then bowed. "My deepest apologies for that, Your Majesty," he acknowledged, adding: "And for everything else, of course. I wish we could've met again under better circumstances."
She stared at him, perplexed. "I'm not sure how much better the circumstances of this meeting could've been," she remarked, "especially for you."
He couldn't hide his amusement. "Point taken, Your Majesty," he agreed. "Things being as they are, I'm very pleased to see you looking so well."
Her nose wrinkled at the compliment. "All the better for not being cut down by your sword, and my sister for not being an ice sculpture."
He winced at the reminder. "Of course," he nodded, putting on a guilty look.
She definitely hasn't forgotten you.
He found himself working harder than usual to maintain his composure under her scrutiny as she continued. "So what is it, Hans? Why are you so 'pleased' to see me, after all this time?"
He should've anticipated that question and prepared an answer for it, in all the minutes and hours and days prior to this reunion with her—and yet, as they stood there face to face, her gaze penetrating in its intensity, nothing came to mind.
"I—"
I just wanted you to see me.
He couldn't tell her such a childish, selfish thing—not unless he wanted her to turn him into a frozen figurine for palace spectators. He had a feeling that she knew his motives even without him telling her, anyway.
"I didn't intend to see you when I heard you were coming to court," he began again in an even tone, taking his time. "Magnus - my older brother, the king, whom I'm sure you've been acquainted with already - he certainly didn't want me anywhere near you." He paused for effect, testing her patience. "But you know how courtiers like to gossip—and oh, do they like to gossip about you, Your Majesty!" he exclaimed, making her frown. "Nothing terrible, I can assure you; most of it was merely praising you for your great beauty and good manners. But there were others, too, who… let's just say didn't paint the kindest of pictures of the visiting queen."
She glared at him. "Your point being?"
He shrugged. "I just wanted to see you again for myself, after hearing all that. Find out what's true, and what's not."
It wasn't a great cover, but it peaked her interest. "So now that you've seen me, what are your conclusions?"
He smiled. "You're far more impressive than any of them could describe," he replied, "and you always have been."
She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. "Don't bother with flattery."
He mirrored her, placing his hands behind his back, and watched as her eyes followed his every movement. "I thought it was worth a try," he joked; at her unamused look, he continued, circling her as he spoke. "To be perfectly honest with you, though, Queen Elsa, there is one thing that did surprise me, and which I wanted to ask you about in person."
Her nose twitched. "And what was that?"
He paused behind her to drink in the beautiful, long curvature of her back through the dress, dedicating every detail of her delicate form to his memory—but not long enough to raise any suspicions.
"Only that you'd recently turned down an offer of marriage from a certain Spanish prince - Diego? Was that his name? - even though his family had proposed quite favorable terms," Hans answered, watching with some satisfaction as her spine bristled. "Rumor has it that even Princess Anna was inclined to the union, and was rather disappointed when he left broken-hearted—"
She snorted derisively, to his surprise, cutting him off mid-sentence. "Oh please," she said, glaring at him, "no one was 'broken-hearted' about any of it, least of all him." She looked away again, and was quiet for a moment. "He couldn't have been."
His brow rose at the candid remark. "Oh? And why is that, Your Majesty?"
Her frown returned, and he knew he'd pushed his luck. "That is none of your concern, Hans," she snapped, "nor should such rumors excite you. In fact," she added, regarding him with more and more displeasure by the minute, "it seems as if you've hardly changed at all in the last two years, to ask me about such things."
"I've changed," he countered, taking her off-guard. "Maybe not as much as you, but… things are certainly different for me now."
I have nothing to lose.
He boldly met her eyes, and asked again: "So tell me, Queen Elsa: why couldn't Prince Diego have been broken-hearted by your rejection?"
There was still anger in her face at the question, though it had dulled somewhat; her cheeks, hot with indignation, glowed red in the moonlight. "Why do you want to know?"
He feigned indifference. "I'm just curious."
He expected her to scold him for his insolence again, and a part of him even wanted her to do that, and then storm off in a huff. However, she only paused, staring at him quizzically, and he wondered if it was the first time that anyone had actually pressed her on this subject outside of her sister.
Not that Anna would know the right questions to ask, he mused, let alone the right words to say.
"He—" she stopped to collect herself, just as he had before her. "He didn't love me, nor did he intend to love me," she said at length. "I could tell from the second we first met, and every moment after."
He was a little moved by the admission, if only for a minute. "Did that really come as a surprise to you, Your Majesty?" he inquired somewhat incredulously. "These kinds of marriages are hardly ever based on 'true love,' or anything like it."
She glared at him again. "You certainly tried to make Anna understand that, didn't you?"
He hardly had time to respond to the pointed jab before she continued, sighing: "Of course I know that, anyway—it's never just about 'love.' But I should have at least liked some respect, if I were to have seriously considered his offer."
He looked at her in confusion. "He was not respectful towards you?"
Her face darkened three shades, and she turned away from him.
"No," she said quietly. "He was not."
And with those three words, Hans understood.
"I see," he said simply, and let her have a quiet moment before adding: "That must have been… difficult for you, I imagine."
"It was awkward at first, and then quickly became unpleasant, because I—" she stopped, her cheeks burning, and her eyes still turned away from his. "It doesn't matter. It's done, now."
"That it is," Hans agreed, watching her. However, enjoying seeing her so nervous after her earlier cool and calm, he couldn't help but stir the pot further. "But really, how unseemly of a suitor to act in that way! Not that I'm one to talk, but you know," he reflected, earning an irritated look from her, "it's quite tasteless to so blatantly proposition a lady, much less a queen, when—"
She stared at him again when he paused, just as he'd hoped she might. "When what?"
"Nothing, it's nothing, Your Majesty," he excused himself, waving away the matter. "Forget I said anything."
She frowned. "I will not—so please, continue with whatever point you were trying to make, Hans."
He nearly grinned. "It's really not important."
She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms even more tightly together, and a thin line of ice began to form along the floor from where her foot tapped against it. "Just come out with it already."
He eyed the ice cautiously, and pretended to look sorrier than ever for his next words. "It's just that… well, I can't say it's unknown that the Queen of Ice and Snow spent most of her formative years locked away in the castle," he began, sensing her anger grow, "and that, even after the end of the Long Winter, she often remains confined to it as she tends to her royal duties." He paused to meet her eyes, which had more fire than ice in their depths as they burned holes in him. He regarded her with sympathy. "It's understandable that she would have precious little time for herself and addressing her own... needs, when she's so busy entertaining others."
Her face flushed in that singularly delightful way as she finally caught his meaning, though she was too embarrassed to deny his suggestion outright.
He continued in her silence: "That being said, I simply meant that such a woman - no, a queen - requires a bit more finesse to approach on any matter, let alone one of such a, shall we say, 'delicate' nature?"
Her gaze turned stony, though her face remained deliciously red.
"Because she's inexperienced, is what I suppose you're getting at?"
He swallowed, trying not to gape.
Queen Elsa, ever full of surprises.
"Yes," he replied at length, "something like that."
Silence drifted over them—one that unsettled him more than anything else had in a long while. For the first time in their exchange thus far, he couldn't get a read on her expression, much less what she was thinking.
Probably that she'll have me hung by the balls from the palace gates tomorrow morning.
The image almost made him choke on a nervous laugh, and set his heart beating faster than he would've liked.
"But she doesn't have to be."
(And made his mouth run when it shouldn't.)
He regretted the words as soon as they left his lips, expecting that he'd be frozen solid within a few seconds.
Instead, she stared at him with detached curiosity. "No?" she asked. "And why is that?"
His mouth felt dry as a desert, and his mind empty as a bottle of wine at the end of one of his brother's parties.
"Because she can be taught," he answered without thinking. "Like anyone else."
"Like anyone else," the queen repeated, seeming to consider the idea.
He nodded. "Yes," he said with absurd confidence, "naturally."
Her skin warmed until it glowed dusky rose in the torchlight, the moon hidden by passing clouds, and her eyes gleamed.
"Then teach me."