"This is gospel for the fallen ones
Locked away in permanent slumber."

. . .

It's a pity that the queen of Arendelle has fallen into a deep slumber. Encased in her own chambers, draped in black laces and silk woven by the fine maids of the castle, she lied still in her glass case, ironically frozen. More of an antique porcelain doll than of a human being, the stretch of her inexplicable malady has shaken the roofs of the kingdom. The answers, which they thought would just be sitting at the top of the northern mountains, weren't there. Desperate measures have been made, including placing the fragile body of the damsel under the nasty glares of the summer sun. But of course, it only made the queen's body more frigid.

She was cold as the ice that she had once woven out of her own dainty hands as for her skin; it was the color of the morning than of the expected alabaster. As the days passed by, she was becoming more of an ice sculpture than of a human being. The hope for a cure was dwindling like a fragile little flame on a two day old candle. The Princess Regent, who used to be so optimistic, has been visiting the queen's chambers with a downward slope on her pasty face, the tears on her eyes hanging loose like silver strings from the moon. If it was possible to see through the princess, it would be seen that the burning flame that represented her hope was more of like the gushing streams of a broken down dam. She had consulted the foster parents of her fiancé, taking her paperwork with her, spending every time she had on bringing her sister back. A phantom in the halls of her own home as she rarely leaves the library, and if she did so, it was to check on her unfortunate dear sister or to chariot towards the Valley. Her fiancé, the royal ice master, has been sent to Corona to compensate his beloved's desperation. Even so his intentions were good, the rumors of him having found another still surfaced. Albeit the Princess Regent was isolated in her own home again, comforted with thick walls, books, and paperwork, the rumors did not fail to penetrate her heart.

The only answer the elder of the bolder rocks, Grand Pabbie, has provided was the vague "only love will thaw a frozen heart" and after all these years of waiting and of waiting for her sister to thaw out, she had found it inconsequential. It had saved her once, but that doesn't mean that it answers all the questions life has thrown at her face and dusted on her boots. Love wasn't always the answer. Sometimes it was something else, something logical. And so, with her optimism turning into pessimism, she shut the door to the library and began reading the books her father had archived.

She hoped to God she'd find something this time.

. . .

The estranged prince sat at the corner of his cell, his hands shaking, the loneliness sitting at the other end of the bench like a common con in a local pub. It raised its hand to him as if to wave, a crooked smile pasted on its empty stark face. Just like that, the black hole, which he's so accustomed to, was now sucking all there was inside of him, leaving the hurt and the weight of not having her with him. He'd give everything to have her back, even risk his life to hear her stern voice flowing through the dense halls of the dungeon. But he had nothing, just the title of a traitor and the castigation God has bestowed upon.

He stopped at that and raised his head from his grubby hands, eyes wide, heart thumping loudly on his chest. What if this was God's way of punishing him? The only thing that could penetrate deeply through him was Elsa. She was the only thing that mattered to him albeit he wouldn't admit it to anyone, even himself. But why would He hurt such a beautiful thing? Why would He destroy it like a flower? She was good, and that's not bad. Albeit all she has been through, she managed to be someone every con would envy. She had never let her powers weave her into a monster everyone would fear, but why would she fall in such an ill fate? He didn't know. Just like the kingdom, he didn't know as to why it happened. But, he wasn't just like the kingdom as he wasn't a fragile little flame in the middle of the December night. He had faith.

"It's crazy to think that I see a man behind the beast. I'm not trying to flatter you, mind you. Flattery is the lowest part of wit based on my context. Nevertheless, I see a man, and I'm not going to give up on that man."

. . .

"There's hope for you, you know?" She raised a brow as she inched closer to him, still on guard but perspicuously at ease with his presence.

He wanted to see fear in her eyes, but damned he was as he only saw concern and the making of a small smile on her pale face. He scowled as he avoided her wide blue gaze, profanities piping out of his lips like smoke.

"You're delusional." He guffawed at that, the howls of his voice giving off the emptiness he felt.

Her patience didn't waver as she closed her cold hands against his. His anger boiled and bit the core of his bone at her countenance. Was there any fear left in this vile creature? It was perspicuous that there was not albeit he had wished that there was. At least there was leverage. It has been his talent to push someone at the edges of their chairs and to prickle the hairs on their skin – metaphorically speaking. But his talent wasn't working on her, nothing was, and inside he was screaming.

"Why don't you kill me? Get the deed done, make your sister happy, and make it seem to your people that you have been the hero all along? Why don't you do that? It'd be easier. At least the snake that's been preying on your souls won't slither anymore." He forced the edges of his lips to rise into a slope to make it seem like a smile, but it ended up in a sad grimace that made his blood sing. "I'm negotiating a good deal, you know? All you need to do is bite." He clamped his teeth together and managed a low rumble that turned into a roar, and winked at her.

She only narrowed his eyes at him, her grip tightening. "Have you ever read the story of Snow White?"

He smirked as he furrowed his brows. "What does that have to do with this?"

She retrieved her hand back on her lap and sighed. "Well, the evil queen told her that one bite can make everything she wanted to come true. See, I wanted you dead. I've wanted you dead since the night I screamed my lungs out, thinking that you're just right beside me, ready to get the deed done. I have dreamed of executing you with my bare hands, to twist your neck in the most wrong way."

Hans grinned. "So why don't you? I've got your invitation right here, dearie." He waved his hand.

"But that's not the point. I did want you dead, but that was past tense. What I want is to give you another chance. What was published for the whole world to read was not the real story. For a person who has spent most of her life locked in her own home, I have made it my life's mission to finish every book in that library."

"And your point is?" he asked, boredom lacing in his tone as he rolled his eyes.

She sighed again. "I have stumbled upon that book years ago. Snow White did not make the evil queen dance her toes off, she made a deal with her. She saw hope in her and so she acted upon that before it was too late. She knew that the evil queen had something fractured inside of her, so she fixed it. No matter how stubborn the queen was, she still chose to make the bitter woman realize that evil is not born, but it was made –"

"And they lived happily ever after. Blah blah blah." He sniggered. "Elsa," his voice felt like a cold shiver on her spine. "We're in the real world. Do you think that I have some tale of woe that made me this way? Grow up! I am nothing like the evil queen. I am not some sad old woman who decides it's best to hand over poisonous apples to kill people to get what she wants. I wanted the throne, yes, but I didn't want to kill both of you. I just didn't have any choice, it was the throne or you, and if I have chosen you, I would have ended up here too." He stood now, looking at her with flashes of hatred, anger, and melancholy. He was a picture of a maddened bull, terrifying, but Elsa chose not to be terrified.

She composed herself, closing her eyes and letting out a breath for a fraction of a second. "You know what I see?" she raised a brow. "I see remorse. I see how you look at me with anger. You're angry because every second of the day you wish you could have chosen me over anyone else. You think that if you had, you wouldn't have to feel sorry for what you have done." She stood and smoothed the crinkles on her dress.

"You don't know me." He said through gritted teeth, fighting the tears in his eyes. They felt like rocks, weighing him down for every second that passed.

She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Oh, but I do. I've been you, and over and over I wished I have chosen Anna over secrecy. It's how we work."

She was greeted by silence with that.

She smiled and nodded her head curtly as if to say goodbye. "So I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

He was greeted then by the bars of his cell and the distant claps of her shoes.

. . .

That night, the Princess Regent found the answer to her questions. She closed the book she had been reading, took her sister's cloak and took off like a thief in the middle of the night.

. . .

That night, the estranged prince had followed one of his friend's pieces of advice. He took the pin Elsa usually wore with her bun from his pocket and unlocked the cuffs on his hands. He knew a passage outside the cell and he was about to use it. This time he'd succeed as Elsa wasn't there to see that he will not do such a thing.

. . .

"Where do you think you're going?" Her voice was calm, but the authority was radiating off of it. There was no smile playing in her face this time. She had the look of a queen, one who knew her power.

She didn't open the locks, but instead watch him like a rat caught in the act. He swallowed the pebbles in his throat as he looked over his shoulder. Fear was dribbling off of him for the first time and he could feel it nibble on his sides.

"There's a trading post just a few miles up. Oaken would be a snitch and report your escape. Tell him that I pardoned you. Take all what you need, tell him I'll pay him. Take a left and ease your way off the Valley so that the rock trolls won't see you. There's another route to my ice castle, go there. I assure you that there are no wolves on that side. Rest there and remain hidden until the sun sets. Kristoff is already home at that time. Take clothes before you leave, disguise yourself. There's a boat that sails to Corona and Copenhagen. I'll write Rapunzel and Ariel that if you end up in their kingdom, they are to care for you and hide you." She sighed, her hands still closed above her lap, her stance still.

Baffled, he stood from where he was and approached the bars that were separating them. "Why are you doing this?" He whispered, his hands clamped on the rusty cold bars.

She shrugged. "There's a criminal that needs to be taken care of. I figured he might need a hope speech. Things might turn the other way around with him, you know?" She smiled genuinely, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Well, tell him to find another cell. I'm not leaving."

"Why the change of heart?" She asked, amused.

He shook his head and stalked back to his bench, kicking off the loose bricks. "I didn't. I just don't want to freeze in your ice castle." He hissed. "I might leave tomorrow." He said, lifting his head to show her his smirk.

"Okay. I'll inform the guards that I've pardoned you or would you rather run for your life? The choice is yours. Good luck and good night." She blew the candle and left him in the darkness.

. . .

He was going to find answers even if that meant running for his life.