Disclaimer: Everything belongs to their rightful owner(s).
Pairing: Eventual Hans/Elsa, with a minor Kristoff/Anna. And probably one-sided Hans/Anna.
Genre: Family, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Friendship.
World/Story Setting: Post-movie. Slight AU.
Rating: PG-13/ T. There will be 'f-bombs', you have been warned.
Summary: While waiting for the transition of Hans' imprisonment, Elsa made a point to visit him. Things went bad fast and Elsa accidentally shot her power at Hans - but seeing as he wasn't injured, both of them thought it was nothing but a bad bruise. Unbeknown to them, Elsa's power was running in his blood. Five years later, Hans came back. With a daughter. Who inherited the same power as Elsa did.

Author's Note: This was a hard one. I had to find the perfect wrinting-style for this, and it was a nightmare. It probably sucks, but hey ― I still hope you'll have a great read.


Two


She looked him right in the eyes, accepted his blanket and when he sat down next to her and offered her his arms, she had let herself leaned back ― slowly ― against him, and the fire was emitting nearby and it should threatened her, but when her skin graced with his, there's a slow hum of electrifying coldness shared between them ― and she wondered if it's because the power of her that was now in his DNA ― but she hadn't care because it just felt good being with him, right now, alive, on this moment.

She closed her eyes and doomed herself.

She'd always thought it would be better if he weren't the enemy.

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"Hi, my name is Olaf and I like warm hugs."

Was what greeted them in the morning as soon as Hans opened the door.

It was unexpected, really. Because he had just been goofing off with his daughter, who amused him greatly when he found her white hair sticking out as she woke up, and had her on his shoulders, with her high-pitched laughter (that either broke his eardrums, or shook his lungs ― he'd like to think that if ever either events actually happen, he wouldn't mind so much as long as she'll keep those smiles on her) streaming into his ears, matching up with a laughter of his own ― a low drawl of chocked-up breath that made him felt so alive, and oh my God, I have a daughter and she's the most beautiful-looking little thing in the entire world.

It was also snowing in the room ― which, to his surprise, didn't seem like an unusual matter anymore ― but it stopped once Olaf's voice floated over, and made Sofia turned her head from being held on his shoulders. He casually adjusted his arms, so it looked like he was carrying his little girl properly in his arms, and watched how she reacted.

To say she was excited would be an understatement.

She managed to shriek (right into his ears), hopped down from his grasp (and still landed gracefully) and hugged the living snowman while jumping giddily. When she pulled away, the snowman ― Olaf, was the name, correct? ― had, what he assumed, was a large smile of its own. "It's true! It's true!" He exclaimed, "You're Elsa's heiress! Oh, you look so beautiful. And your eyes ― it's not blue! It's green! ― they're enchanting."

"And you're cute," giggled Sofia, now looking up to her father. "Don't you think so, Daddy?"

Before Hans could say anything in reply, Olaf had cut him off, wearing an off-putting expression that he couldn't describe. All that he knew was that it wasn't a happy expression. "And you." His voice was threatening at its best, and though it hardly scared him, it still bothered him. "I know what you did."

"Don't hurt my Daddy," said Sofia immediately, backing up, until she bumped her back against his knee. He put a hand over the four-year-old's shoulders in assurance, and she glanced up briefly ― he gave her a warm smile in return ― before staring straight at the snowman. "Just ― don't."

That was it.

A little slip ― when she's confused over her emotions, or were just overwhelmed by it, couldn't control it, he would know. He would know because when he exhaled, there's a puff of smoke coming through his nostrils and mouth. And perhaps it's because he's her father, or that he's got a little bit of the power running in his veins ― but he could feel the coldness, he could estimate just how much the temperature dropped and he could practically tasted it by the tips of his tongue.

"My Light," he whispered, brushing the strands of snowy hair with his fingers. "Don't worry. He won't hurt me."

"But, he―"

"Do you trust me?"

There's a catch when she tried to respond, and she spun herself partially, her small hands clutched against his pants in a tight grip while she nodded her head slowly, "...Yes."

He bent down, then, and scooped her up in his arms. "Then, breathe."

She did.

He closed his eyes and inhaled, and felt how the coldness just seeped away, like he always did whenever it came to this point. When he was sure most of her power vanished, he slowly stood up, carrying her with him. Olaf then shifted uncomfortably, "I― I'm sorry. I didn't know―"

"It's―" Hans cut off, hushing Sofia in between, and felt a terrible lump in his throat as he thought of his next word. "It's okay."

There's a smile that the snowman tried to pull, but clearly failed. Hans thought back about the whole event ― right from the beginning where he was a child, and he was hearing the comments he would hear from his brothers, to the point where he grew up with every intention on bringing his brothers down, to where he was a young lad trying to accomplish that exact mission, to the part where he was standing at Arendelle's scene and admiring the view, and so on until it came down to a pair of green eyes and white hair, and here, in this castle, risking everything all at once. He sighed. "Okay," he decided, "Let's try this again."

He pressed his palm against his daughter's back, feeling how she pressed her nose deeper into his shoulder and slowly nudged her. "Sofia," he whispered as kindly as he could, "He will not hurt me. He will not hurt us. If you would please... just..."

He took a hair and slowly observed as she peered in from burying her face in his shoulder, "... look at me?"

She fluttered her eyes open and lifted her head. Hans gave her an assuring grin, and kissed her temple for good measure. It was sad to think, on the moment, that she was so scared for him ― and he was a bad man, a despicable man that performed treason in his own Kingdom and another one. A man that, in a sense, probably didn't deserve her. Cocking a smile of his own, he tried, "Hey there, little girl. How are you?"

Her lips immediately broke into a grin, and a giggle escaped. "Daddy."

"My Light," he kissed her temple again and nudged her to look at the snowman. "Don't you know it's not polite not to introduce yourself to a friend?"

She pursed her mouth, and passed a look to Olaf ― who's smiling brightly, apologetically up at her. He ushered on, "C'mon now, it's okay." Slowly, he put her down to her feet, until her arms were by her own sides and no longer wrapped around her father's neck. Hans stood back up again just as she stepped forward.

"Hi...," her meek voice began, and she tried to swat away a hair that fell in her face. "Olaf."

The snowman gasped, and he looked overly excited by it, "You just said my name. You. Elsa's Heiress! Oh wow. Wow. Hello. Hello! I'm Olaf, but you must know that and ― ugh, I'm making such a big fool over myself. What I was trying to―"

"I'm Sofia," said she, giggling as she stumbled on her feet to hug the snowman once again. "And I like warm hugs too."

Olaf looked surprised, then delighted, then was just sort of impressed, and calmed down before he began to wrap its ― arms? sticks? ― around her. When Sofia pulled away, she jumped again, "You are so ... magical! How ― I mean, did Queen Elsa created you?"

"Yes. Yes, she did, actually." Olaf answered, proud and beaming.

"Wow, I want to create something like this too! Can I? Oh, can I, Daddy?"

Hans smiled sweetly when she turned to him, nodding his head. "Of course you can, my Light. You just need practise, is all. And remember, always do it―"

"― with good intentions, I know." Recited Sofia confidently, blinking back up at her father.

"Practice! Practice ― that's right! Anna said something about this. You're going to practice with Elsa, right? Wow, to see the Snow Queen and her Heiress practicing together. That would be ― that would be, just ― wow."

"But Queen Elsa would be so much better than me, I'm sure."

"Well, yeah, of course. But that's only because she's got lots and lots of practices before, when she was a kid, I'm sure." Olaf reassured her, blinking up and smiling all kindly ― and for that one second, Hans thought about how it wasn't so bad having the snowman, albeit it's oddly weird it's alive, around. "Just like you are, right now. And if you practice lots and lots like how she did, I'm sure you'll be just as great. Or better!"

Sofia smiled bashfully, pushing a snowy hair behind. "Thank you, Olaf."

"I saw what you did there. Your room was snowing! I bet you'll be just fine during practice. I'm hundred-percent sure." Olaf then stopped and tilted its head to one side. "You're very pretty."

"You're very pretty too, Olaf."

Olaf gasped, and looked... tearful? "Thank you!"

"Uhm, sir?"

Hans startled as the voice jumped through his concentration, and he finally took in the guards that must have been standing there all along ― three of them, all perfectly in their formal uniform that dimly reminded him of the Southern Isles' castles' guards, although of course, those guards wore a green uniform rather than a purple-colored one ―and watched as the guard's shoulders squared once Hans has given him his full attention. "The Queen and the Princess are requesting for you, and... Madam Sofia for breakfast."

Madam. She could've been a Princess, if he didn't― Hans gritted his teeth, and flashed a fake, warm smile towards the guard. "Of course," he nodded his head, "Thank you. C'mon now, Sofia."

"Oh, alright, Daddy." She quipped, brushing on her dress ― a new dress prepared by Princess Anna, it seemed, as it written when he received it early that break of dawn ― while she stood up, "Olaf? Are you coming?"

"Of course I am." Olaf cheerfully replied and began walking besides the four-year-old.

Naturally, Hans let his little girl walked in front of him and the guards walked orderly behind them. Hans tried not to feel so much like he's being imprisoned, because he's not he told himself countless times ― because if being imprisoned was getting a fresh clothes specially from the Princess, given a bed for resting, and having the free right to spend as many times as you want with your daughter; it might be the sweetest form of punishment you could ever get ― and so to distract his mind, he looked upon the walls and followed Olaf's direction to the Main Hall, trying to match the hallways with ones he still recalled from his memories.

It was a new day, he decided. Hopefully it's a kind one as well.


Blue eyes.

That was the first thing he saw as soon as he entered the room, and he tried his very best not to ― but his skin crawled and he felt an awful taste at the back of his throat and he swore he saw his swords in his grip, aiming at her, and her gritted teeth as she confronted him that night and ― he snapped himself out of it once he felt someone's tugging on his hand, and he looked down.

"Sofia," he breathed, calmed his head down and swept a hand over her freckled cheek.

"Hans." Queen Elsa greeted, nodding her head all professionally. "Sofia. It was nice of you to join us."

"Good morning," Anna chirped, trying to break the still atmosphere and glanced down excitedly at the four-year-old. The fiancé ― Hans casually noticed ― straightened his pose, his eyes dissatisfied, but refusing to meet either his or innocent little Sofia's. "Come, come. Have a seat. The chef prepared only the best."

"Of course," he muttered, letting his gaze dropped to the floor for just one, brief second before he slowly lead Sofia to an empty seat. For the most part, Sofia remained quiet ― her hands was gripping him tightly all of a sudden ― and the air started to chill. As usual, he immediately sensed it, and as he lifted his chin up, it seemed like he was not the only one.

Queen Elsa watched him, a type of foreign concern danced behind her eyes that Hans refused to look for more than three seconds. He turned to his daughter, brushed her closer, and tried to whisper sweet-nothings, but it's as if she thought his actions meant something bad, and the increasing cold air creeped with fear.

"Sofia," he hushed over, thumbs against her pale cheeks. "My Light, won't you breathe?"

"I'm―" She huffed out ― almost like sob-like, but there were no tears in sight. "I'm sorry."

"Shh, all you need is to take a deep breath. Nobody is going to hurt anybody." He now rubbed one hand against her knuckles ― the coldness of her hands should be unusual, but he had held her since she was two to know that this was normal ― attempting to search for her eyes, "Are you listening to me, love?"

"Sofia."

Hans quickly looked up the new voice, surprised flooded his feature when the Queen ― all dressed up in her dotted blue dress, tiara in place, not a strain of hair out of place ― bent down next to his little girl, her cold hands brushing his when she took hold of Sofia's little fingers. "Calm down now, sweetheart. Please. Would you just look at me?"

When Sofia did, the Queen immediately broke into a smile. "That's my girl. Open your palm now, facing up. I'd like to show you something."

Sofia hesitated, and looked quickly to her father. Hans gave her a quick smile, and nodded his head, urging her slightly to continue on with the Queen's idea. The four-year-old took a deep breath and offered her palm to the Snow Queen, following her simple instruction as Queen Elsa's fingers helped. Slowly, the Queen put her hands above Sofia's, only palms down ― and there's a space in between.

"Do you trust me?" Queen Elsa fluttered her eyes back at the young girl, a mischievous streak tingled in her behaviour. "You need to trust me, Sofia."

"O-okay." Sofia nodded, unsure, but when her eyes met with the Queen's, she nodded again, this time even more firmly. "I trust you."

"Good. Here we go."

Hans watched his little girl's face as it scrunched up in full concentration and something that awfully felt like overprotective-ness of a father nearly barked out because he had no idea what the Queen was doing to his daughter ― and if it'll be harmful ― but he held his stance, and stood behind Sofia, and until she cried for help, he won't do anything. He won't mess this up.

Suddenly, in the space between Sofia's and the Queen's hands were emitting glow, and before anybody could react, Hans felt his muscles relaxed ― because as soon as the glow made its appearance, a struck of familiar laughter sprung into the air and went straight to his chest, releasing some sort of a wave of relief. His daughter was laughing. And in between her hands and the Queen's were snowflakes, and it's as if they're building some sort of a world of their own, and it was snowing just in their hands, and there's also a glow in the Queen's expression, and then she was laughing along too.

"Daddy, are you looking at this?" Shrilled Sofia excitedly, jumping on the balls of her feet.

"I am," he breathed, bending down to plant a kiss on the top of her head. "You're wonderful."

"It's beautiful!" Anna exclaimed, her cheeks rosy from the sudden change of temperature, but Hans didn't bother pointing it out. Kristoff stood besides her, looking surprised, but not entirely delighted.

Queen Elsa finally retreated her hand and the glow stopped. "You're amazing, Sofia."

"T-thank you."

"Now I want you to take a deep breath and trust me when I said we won't hurt you, or your father." She said, placing her eyes on Sofia's again, a warm expression rested on her face. "Do you trust me?"

Sofia titled her head to one side, and only then did Hans realised the air was as it was when they first walked in. Warm, and comfortable. "I trust you."

And as Queen Elsa smiled, leaned down and kissed Sofia's temple, Hans could only say that his daughter might not be the only one to trust the Queen.

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"You really have no idea how to braid your daughter's hair, do you?"

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"What?"

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It was approximately an hour after breakfast, inside the Ballroom, where Sofia began her first practice.

The Queen was mocking him.

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"I haven't had much practice in it, I admit." He said, gritted his teeth, and looked up ahead ― because he could feel her smirking next to him, and it was unbearable ― and the scene were of Sofia, making mountains of snow out of nowhere while Olaf skid along it, laughing cheerfully of repeated "Again! Again! Make it bigger, Sofia!"

"I don't think that's a good idea―" As usual, his thoughts when unnoticed when Sofia cut him off with another high-pitched set of giggles, setting the mountains of snow higher with a casual wave of her hands.

"Don't worry, nothing will go wrong, I'm sure." Queen Elsa calmly stated, her eyes set on the scene in front of them.

His jaw twitched and there's a 'tch' sound coming from his mouth, but if anyone ask, he would deny it. He took a deep breath ― okay, just say it ― and spun awkwardly towards the platinum-blond Queen by his side. "Your Majesty," he began, his voice a low whisper. "It's not Sofia I'm worried about, you see."

"Oh?"

"It's the―" Hans wanted to kill himself. "Talking snowman. If she kept going, and it fell, well, won't it, I don't know ― die!?"

"His head will detach itself from his body, yes." The Queen merely nodded, hardly looking worrisome. Hans was starting to wonder if Olaf was really her creation (although who else might have created him, right?). It seemed unlikely now as he studied her reaction. Then, calmly as ever, she continued, "He won't die, fortunately."

"He won't?"

"He'll be in pieces, but he won't die."

Hans waited for the words to sink in. "That's supposed to be a better image?"

The Queen hesitated, "I suppose."

Well, then. Hans nodded his head, muttered a soft 'thank you' under his breath before returning his attention back to his daughter, who's spinning on the moment, ice under her feet and snow falling from her hands. "Now remember, Sofia. Deep breath, control your emotions," The Queen orders gently, waving her arms around and the ice that began to catch up to them creeped away to where Sofia was.

"Okay!" Sofia nodded happily, moved her arms ― and the high snow mountains melted away from sight.

"I can show you how to braid her hair, if you wish."

"That― that sounds perfect," Hans heard himself responded. "I just― don't you have suitors coming in?"

There's a beat of silence that immediately followed as soon as Hans said that. "...Yes."

"I thought so." Hans nodded ― and felt himself smirking down at her ― while still keeping his eyes on the four-year-old. "Found anyone to your liking yet, Your Highness?"

"That is highly confidential, you must know."

"Mustn't be confidential enough if the whole Kingdom knows."

"I―" Queen Elsa seemed to be gathering breaths. "No comment."

"I heard Prince Emmanuel of the Western Trident made a very great impression."

"He's... a very handsome man."

"Handsome?"

"Charming." The Queen looked flustered when Hans spared a glance towards her. "I said, charming."

"You favour him."

"I... found him a very good companion."

"He likes to talk, yes."

"He's quite talkati― you've met before?"

Something definitely stung when that question rolled over. "In case you've forgotten," he cleared his throat and avoided eye-contact. "I was a Prince before, as well."

"Ah, yes― right. I shouldn't―"

"It's quite alright, Your Highness." Hans pursed his lips, and let his eyes travelled through the small painting of snowflakes around the wall. Huh. He never noticed that before. "We shared a same tutor once, me and Emmanuel. He charmed our English professor right until it became... a little too charming, is the correct word I suppose. We were sixteen, then."

"By too charming, do you mean―"

"It's best if you don't know." Hans grinned then, nodding at her. "He's a smart man, all and all. It didn't matter about the rest now, would it? You, as the Queen, were only accepting this suitor to find a King, to rule the Kingdom with you. And Emmanuel ― well, it's what we Princes and Princesses are prepared for our whole life. He'll be a fine ruler."

"Just― just that?" Queen Elsa blinked, and Hans was surprised to see the cool facade she's trying so hard to pull off shed, slowly, bits by bits. "What about― everything else?"

"What everything else?"

"You know, as in―" Elsa licked her lips, frowning fiercely. "As in― love, and others."

"Love?"

"Yes!" The Queen nodded her head coolly, readjusting her straight posture. "Like Kristoff and Anna. They're in love."

"They seemed like they are," he controlled his tone as he voiced it out ― although he may or may not have sounded a little too bitter. "As you said, they usually have the Sunday all to themselves, right? Doing whatever it was that they're doing?"

"Yes."

"But you're the Queen. You had a Kingdom to look after. A Princess―" Hans pointed out, "― they have a lighter duty than that. It's why they have can have Sunday all to themselves. While you, you are meant to rule your people. And a King, isn't necessarily for... loving. He's just there to help you reign."

He could actually feel a glare burning holes through his head. "You're a cruel man, Hans."

"I did not come up with the system, Your Highness."

"You implied as if I am not worthy to be loved!"

"Not worthy?" Hans barked out laughing, spinning towards her. I am not worthy to be loved, he wanted to yell at her ― but he kept it in, looked at her straight in her eyes and gritted out. "You are."

"Daddy? Queen Elsa?" Sofia's small voice interrupted, and Olaf trailed behind awkwardly.

"Is something wrong?" Olaf whispered out, looking back and forth from him to the Snow Queen. "I'm sensing some tension going on here..."

He shook his head quickly, "It's nothing. Queen Elsa and I were just having a discussion."

"That's right. Did we interrupt your practice?" Queen Elsa looked up, and managed a wide smile. "Ah, you managed to make the mountains disappear. The whole room looks clear."

It's Olaf who snickered. "Look again." It pointed towards the ceiling.

Hanging there, was a layer, and layer of ice-ceilings, with carvings of elegant snowflakes and a shadow of a thousand ballet dancers. Hans could tell that the Queen was impressed. "Sofia," she forced out, after staring at it for too long. "It's beautiful."

"Breathtaking," Hans admitted and hugged his little girl. "I'm proud of you."

Things went on good after a while. Elsa and Sofia managed to make the ice-ceilings disappear together, and Hans mostly just avoided any interaction, at all, with the Queen. What he did was wrong ― he was no longer a Prince. He could not just talk freely like that, to a Queen, who possessed magical abilities that could possibly kill him in a matter of seconds. And he obviously hadn't learn his lesson just yet because when the Queen finally excused herself, he made a comment ―

"Good luck with the suitor. I'm sure he'll be just as charming."

And he honestly didn't know if the look she gave him should scare him, or amuse him.

(After a minute, he settled with both.)

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"What were you and Queen Elsa talked about, Daddy?"

"Oh, nothing particularly interesting."

"Oh really? 'Cause Olaf said that he thought you two were going to kiss. Were you going to kiss Queen Elsa, Daddy?"

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"What?"

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"He also said something about how Queen Elsa never really look that red on her face. Did you do something to her face? 'Cause that would be weird."

"I didn't― Why ― How― What else did that snowman said, Sofia?"

"I don't know. I wasn't really paying attention. Should I, though?"

"No, you shouldn't. That's good. That snowman is not to be trusted with his words."

"Hmmm, I guess." Sofia blinked up cheerfully at him, practically beaming. "So were you going to kiss Queen Elsa, Daddy?"

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"No. And we're not talking about this. Ever."

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i think, this will be a three-parter, or something. thanks for the read. a review would be nice, please?