(Hans)

The air is already starting to warm up as I walk down the gangplank to the cobblestone walkway below. Summer is a feast of colors and smells, and I will never tire of standing still to smell the flowers. But today my one track mind can not relax enough to allow me to take in the quaintness of the houses around me, or the joyful bustle of people getting ready for the coronation.

It's been fourteen years. It seemed like a couple of days- it seemed like ages ago.

Sometimes I wonder if I dreamt it all up…. except for the blue ribbon. The day after she had left I was back in my loft, moping for whatever reason, and I found a blue ribbon in the hay. I remembered that she'd had her hair in two braids and at the end of them there was a blue ribbon, one of them must have fallen out.

There was all the proof I had that she had been there, that I had a friend. I wrote to her that night, I told her I'd keep the ribbon until I saw her again. I didn't finish the letter but added onto it in the next couple of weeks, telling her about my adventures with my friend Kai from the village, about my brothers locking me in my room at dinner time, about the tricks I was teaching Sitron. I drew her a little sketch of us sitting closely together with our foreheads touching.

I had never had a friendship with a girl, but my instinct told me that this was no ordinary friendship. Elsa was special. She didn't say much, but her silence seemed to say so much, as did her eyes. I had never seen eyes like hers, they were like the moon. Or maybe like a lake - like the ones I sometimes visited in the great forest, tucked between the trees, surrounded by peaceful life - where the sky reflected so sharply that if you looked long enough, you couldn't remember which was the real sky and which only the reflection. Looking in her eyes, gave me that same dreamy feeling.

And don't get me started on the snow magic! There were no words, that was absolutely awesome!

I wrote her many times. She didn't write back. I wondered if maybe the night had meant more to me than it had to her. The more time passed, the less I wrote, until I stopped all together. Not that I stopped thinking about her. I would write to her in my mind, pretend she was with me on an adventure or just hanging out.

We received message about a year after we had last seen them, that they wouldn't be visiting again - that Anna had fallen ill and that they wanted to stay close to home. I hoped that we would go visit them, but when I asked my mother about it, she said that some friendships were not meant to last.

Ten years later we got the devastating news that the king and queen had died in a horrible storm at sea. My heart ached for the pain I imagined Elsa and Anna must be going through. I wrote a letter to Elsa, much more formal than I would normally write, but that was because I had no idea how she would feel, she hadn't kept her promise to write, so it's not like we were friends.

And now here I am, fourteen years later. It didn't take a lot of persuading on my part to get my parents to agree to send me as representative of the Southern Isles. Seeing as all my brothers were married or engaged, I think my parents were hoping I can make a good connection. I have to say I share their hope.

No matter how cold it has been, it's always felt as though a big piece of my heart sailed away with Elsa on the ship.

Even though she may not know me or want to see me, if she's anything like the girl she used to be, I'm hoping that what we had can easily be rekindled.

I'm thinking about what line I can open with, when suddenly a small figure runs into me. What follows is a minute of extreme awkwardness as I manage to make a fool out of myself in front of what turns out to be princess Anna! She's turned out to be a beautiful young lady, I recognise her as she shares features with Elsa. We have such an easy connection, it makes me that much more hopeful for my reunion with Elsa.

Falling into the water wasn't part of the plan, making me have to return to the ship to change and I'm almost late to the chapel.

Once the choir starts to sing, my heart begins pounding in my head and my mouth goes dry. The door opens and Elsa glides up the aisle.

I can hardly breathe as I take in what she has grown up to be. Her hair frames her face like a crown, her eyes are dazzling jewels in a moon-white face. Her form, from what I can see is lithe and curvy. It almost seems as though time freezes when she walks past me. I wish with all my mind power for her to look my way, but she keeps her eyes locked on ground in front of her, as though she's afraid something might trip her.

And that's when I see beyond her beauty; a restlessness, a fear, a sadness, a lonely girl. I wonder what it means, surely she is so loved by all those around her.

The ceremony is done quickly, and still Elsa does not see me. All I can hope for now is a meeting at the reception.

(Elsa)

Fear. There is so much fear. It seems that the more I tell myself to be brave, the more fear I feel. My life has boiled down to a few basic things - my room, ignoring Anna (which has become easier and more painful since she decided to ignore me as well), and my gloves.

Many times the only way to escape the fear is to live in a fantasy dream land. In that dreamland I tell Anna about my icy gift, she still loves me, and we build a snowman.

In that dream, Hans comes to visit me, handsome as ever, and tells me he doesn't mind getting frostbit once in awhile, that he's come to whisk me away to a safe place.

He never wrote. It broke my heart. I wrote to him the day we arrived in Arendelle and every week after.

I asked my father how long it would take for a letter to reach the Southern Isles, and he said two to four weeks. So after a month I would run down to the offices everyday and ask Kai if the mail had arrived yet and if there was anything for me. There never was.

For a whole year I wrote him.

Until that night. The night that changed everything. The night that changed me. Something broke.

He wrote to me once. I received a letter after I had lost my parents. It was a formal and kind letter, condoling me with my loss. I assumed he must have grown up to be a kind and caring sort of person, but that he wasn't interested in me, but was polite enough to send this letter. I don't blame him. Who could love what I was?

At the banquet, as I sit silently picking at my food, I see someone sitting at a far table who seemed to resemble the Hans I remember. But he's so much older, it's hard to tell. His hair is a copper color with amazing sideburns that framed sharp cheekbones. Eyes that light up with interest in conversation, a nose slim and regal, lips that tend to curl up on one side and a strong jaw.

I find myself staring for a whole minute before I realize what I'm doing - fantasizing - I shake my head to bring myself back to this moment. That is not Hans, let it go.