Helsa Week, Day 2: Like Fire Like Ice
Disclaimer: Frozen belongs to Disney.
I don't know where the story, The Moth and The Flame originally came from,
so here's to here's to Jose Rizal('s mother), or to whoever wrote it.
The Moth and The Flame
"It is true, that what we love can hurt us."
Like fire,
Hans was slowly getting used to being in Arendelle, it would have been impossible for him not to; after all, he was great at adapting, it was a skill that he's always had.
It's been a year since his oldest brother stripped him of his title and threw him in a ship bound for Arendelle. The Southern Isles's king decided he would just give his youngest brother to Arendelle as their new, personal slave—or whatever the queen liked to call him.
Unamusingly enough, Hans found that the only thing he had lost by trying to kill Arendelle's queen and princess was his title, and it was easy to get used to not being called a prince anymore; he never really felt like one anyway.
There were people who avoided him like he was the plague, and would look on him as though he were nothing less than a fleck of mud beneath their feet.
Well, Hans was already used to that.
There were also people who jeered and sneered at him, the only thing different now was that he couldn't retort without expecting to be hit for his insolence; and it wasn't hard to get use to that either, he just had learn how to be quick enough.
Hans even found that he enjoyed the freedom he felt. He didn't mind that he got to raise, groom, and ride horses. That was his official duty now, and he loved it. He grew up raising Sitron, and truth be told he rather liked horses better than people. Horses weren't annoying, horses didn't complain a lot, horses made a better company, horses weren't pretentious, and most of all, horses were more trustworthy than humans.
What the former prince wasn't used to, however, were his newfound feelings.
Hans knew that the queen could have just had him executed—nobody would bat an eyelash—but somehow Queen Elsa had made up an excuse, saying that he was her responsibility.
Well, he was, in a way; but again, she could have just had him killed, punished, or left in the harsh mountains to die.
But instead she…
She spends evenings gazing at the stars with me.
It wasn't anything peaceful or romantic, heavens no! More often than not, Hans would find himself cold and shivering, or half frozen—not that he minded all too much, after all he'd end up in that dreadful condition because he had a certain talent for provoking her.
They would always argue; they argued even about the littlest of things, and much to his displeasure, Hans found himself enjoying spending time with the Queen. It was rather disconcerting, actually. Especially since, now, he found that his day would not be completed without her.
Hans watched Elsa from the corner of his eyes as she looked at the stars; they've both been quiet for some time now, after their argument about chocolates ended up as a stalemate. Yes, they were arguing about chocolates; most of their arguments were ridiculous.
Hans looked up at the stars, then slowly he closed his eyes.
He wanted to say thank you.
He wanted to thank her for never failing to spend the night with him, and for making him truly happy despite his inner conflicts with himself.
Try as he might the words were stuck in his throat, and he couldn't speak; or rather, he didn't know what to say. He wasn't sure how phrase his words so that it would sound as sincere as he felt, he had grown to be such a great liar he'd sometimes forget he could be sincere.
"Hans?"
"Yes?" he hummed quietly, voice barely above a whisper, he kept his eyes closed.
"What are you thinking about?" Elsa asked with obvious curiosity.
He opened his eyes and looked deep into her dark, ocean blue eyes, "You."
She seemed a bit surprise, it was obvious in the slight frown that had furrowed her brows, "Me?"
"Yes," he looked back at the stars again, mentally mapping out the constellations—it was a habit, "You see, I've always wondered," despite his words, Hans didn't sound sarcastic, "Why spend such pointless nights with a peasant when you've had a long and tiring day?"
"They're not pointless," she scoffed, and Hans had to admit that Elsa's tone made him look at her, "And admit it," she grinned at him, her smile was a touch devious, "You enjoy my company."
Hans blinked, then instead of smirking, he smiled, "You're right," he looked away as his smile grew, "I do."
An almost identical expression to Hans's flickered on Elsa's face—blink, smile. In an almost affectionate gesture, Queen Elsa placed her gloved hands on top of the former prince's calloused and ungloved ones, there was a ghost of a smile touching her lips and a soft glimmer in her eyes.
Despite himself, Hans flinched, but he didn't pull away from her touch. When he looked back at Elsa, he stared into her eyes intensely. Hans was sure the temperature didn't drop a degree, but despite the gloves that she was wearing, and the fact that her gesture was only meant to be kind—Hans found that the Snow Queen's touch burned brighter and warmer than any chaotic inferno.
Like ice,
Elsa wasn't sure why she had done it.
"Hans?"
After what happened, the entire incident that had happened after her coronation, she was fairly sure that she wanted nothing to do with the traitorous prince; but somehow, she had accepted King Adalsteinn's offer to have his youngest brother serve in her kingdom—and there she was now, sitting under the night sky with the said traitor.
"Yes?"
She tried to avoid him for the first few days, but the more she had tried to banish him at the back of her mind, the more he had resurfaced. When she finally got tired of trying to avoid him, or avoid thinking of him, she made time to talk to him; and after that, every time she was free from her queenly duties, she endeavoured to always find time to talk with him.
"What are you thinking about?"
Anna was rather frustrated with Elsa at the beginning, but the younger lady had eventually relented. Kristoff was a great distraction, and Elsa was able to justify her reasons for visiting Hans, even if her reasons sounded mundane and banal at best.
"You."
Elsa didn't really understand why she kept meeting Hans. She was curious, she supposed, curious about what made Hans who he was; and loathe as she was to admit it, she enjoyed verbally sparring with the man.
"Me?"
Despite everything that has happened between them in the past, Elsa had managed to reach one conclusion about the former prince—
"Yes. You see, I've always wondered. Why spend such pointless nights with a peasant when you've had a long and tiring day?"
A conclusion that, The night sky no longer makes sense without him.
"They're not pointless, and admit it, you enjoy my company."
And perhaps, just a little bit, she hoped that it was the same for him too.
"You're right, I do."
A shadow of a smile crept on her lips as a pleasant feeling washed over her. Somehow, she just knew that the former prince was being sincere. Almost instinctively, she reached out to place her hand gently above his.
She felt his sudden jerk, the fierce look in his brown-flecked, green eyes held her gaze captivated. Elsa didn't expect him to, but he did it anyway—he pressed his lips on top of her hand.
She felt an unfamiliar feeling wash over through her as the lingering sensation of Hans's lips against the back of her hand sent a shiver down her spine; a shiver that the freezing cold never could.
A fatal attraction,
Once there was a moth that had happily frolicked around the the candle, entranced by its captivating and dazzling flame. Mesmerized by the dancing tongue, the moth had come too close, heedless of its mother's warning to stay away. Its wings were singed and it fell, fluttering once and then no more. The moth had gotten burnt by its own disillusion.
In which the former prince and the queen were both drawn to each other like the proverbial moth to the candle, but this story knows nothing of the moth's carelessness. No touch will burn like a ruinous fire, and no one will allow themselves to fall completely. This is a story where our characters understand the pain of wanting, where they allow themselves to desire while never allowing themselves to fall into the temptation of testing the fates.
Hans and Elsa looked away from each other to gaze at the sky above, both quietly basking under the watchful beam of the stars and the moon, with only the heavens to witness their fingers intertwining.
A hopeless love.
"His name is Robert Blackwell," Elsa suddenly said out of the blue after minutes of silence. It's been almost two years now, and watching the night sky with him has become a daily part of her routine.
"The Duke of Fensworth?" Hans asked, he turned to her with a look of surprise.
Elsa looked down, she bit her lower lip and nodded, "Yes."
"So, you've finally chosen," he broke into a grin, and his heart broke into pieces—or perhaps saying that was a little bit over-dramatic, "The council must be having a party."
Elsa laughed softly and nodded, "They seem to be the happiest about this."
"And Anna?" somehow he ended up getting along with Anna; the princess didn't despise him as much as she used to. An occasional harmless prank here and there was enough to keep her satisfied, and at least he wasn't in any mortal danger.
"She's also happy about it," Elsa shrugged carelessly, "But Anna thinks I should have..."
"Chosen something crazier?" Hans's lips curved into a small teasing smile, understanding shone in his eyes.
"Yes," Elsa sighed and laughed resignedly.
Hans chuckled, and yet again they fell into deep silence, both back to watching the stars twinkle and shine.
This time, it was Hans who broke the silence, "Congratulations, I suppose. You've chosen well."
"He is a kind man," Elsa murmured after a moment's hesitation, "And charming," Elsa added quietly, looking at Hans.
"Always was," he drawled, a nostalgic smile formed on his lips.
"But he..." she trailed off and looked away.
Isn't you.
Or maybe Hans was being too disenchanted that he had imagined her voice ringing through his head.
"Fensworth is an honorable man," Hans told her, there was a hint of pride in his voice, "He was one of the only people I've met who didn't pretend liking me," a deep chuckle rumbled in his chest, "He challenged me when he wanted to, irked me when he pleased, and had my back when I needed him," Hans paused, pondering before he continued, "He's smarter than most, more devious than he admits, and clever beyond doubt," then Hans turned to Elsa with a wistful look in his eyes, and a smirk on his lips, "He's a sort of rake, but he respects women and honors them better than most men would."
"You approve of him," the queen said simply, almost... accusingly?
"He's a better man than me," Hans whispered quietly, taking her hand and kissing it. Funny, Hans thought, his lips were still pressed to her knuckles and his eyes never looked away from her, I've always, only kissed her hand.
"Hans," Elsa whispered softly as he pulled away, and their fingers intertwined, "Do you ever regret what you did?" her voice had grown softer, as is she were afraid of asking. For a brief moment, Hans didn't reply, instead he watch as the light shone in her eyes, and the flecks of silver in them danced against the midnight blue—Like stars, he thought amusedly.
Hans touched her face gently, and leaned in; Elsa closed her eyes, and he kissed her forehead. When her eyes had opened, he saw that she had anticipated more, but he couldn't bring himself to give her anything other than a chaste kiss. He already wanted her too much.
"I do regret it, my queen," he replied somberly; his eyes were closed, and their foreheads were touching, "Yes," he added almost absentmindedly; then opening his eyes and looking deep into hers, his lips curved into a rueful smile, "I am regretful, Elsa.
"I regret, but only for the stars."
HELLO ELECTRICITY, AND HELLO INTERNET.
Typhoon just passed by our country and left us without electricity for most of the day.
SO HERE'S DAY 2! :3
parumpumpum~ whaddya think?
Day 3's gonna be late, sadly, because I didn't get a time to write. :P
Thanks for reading!
Hope you enjoyed. :3
Cheers!
