"Why...?" Kristoff breathed onto the hard stone floor. His hands were freezing and his knuckles were bloody and scabbing from the amount of times he had punched things, namely the walls and the floor.

His mouth still tasted like bile from his latest bout of indigestion. He grimaced and coughed up whatever he could, and spat the taste out, nearly missing those ridiculously lavish looking fur boots.

They were Sven once. He couldn't hold his defiant facade for too long before the air was forced out of his lungs with a heavy kick. The force was so much, he rolled onto his back, only to be kicked again, in the ribs.

He screamed, he sobbed, he just wanted to die but 'the king' would not be so kind.

Hans grinned at him and yanked the chain around his neck extra hard, forcefully ceasing his prisoner's rioting, and kicking him once more in the abdomen.

He owned a strength, physically, which Kristoff hadn't been prepared for. Beneath that lithe and regal exterior was a beast more than a man. He'd probably had his share of scuffles and tiffs with his twelve older brothers, and who even KNEW what other people had dared to try and cross him.

The rugged, unsmooth cuffs around his wrists tugged and tore at his skin as he tried to reach the chain to loosen it from his neck, but they were just a link or two short of being able to reach.

Hans chuckled and then suddenly released the chain, stepping on him with those damn boots.

"Tell me, Krsitoff, does it hurt to be beaten by your only friend?" He laughed, grinding the ball of his foot into the tattered shirt and aggravating the bruises already forming there.

"Why..?" Kristoff begged to know, letting himself be crushed into a death like submission.

"I haven't done anything..." He hoarsely cried, although he knew that innocence was completely irrelevant. Why did there need to be a reason? He clearly just felt like punishing him, or so he thought.

His neck was crushed with a metal collar, like a dogs, and his arms and legs were cuffed and chained to the center and base of the wall respectively. His warmer clothes had been stripped of him, leaving him only in his trousers and his undershirt, and the chill of autumn shocked straight into his bones.

Hans pursed his lips and lowered his brows, "You think you're innocent?" He asked.

He shoved off and walked right over him, stepping to the left hand side of the cell, folding his arms behind his back and sighing.

"You ruined her for me." He growled.

"I ruined...what?!" He cried.

"You ruined ANNA you stupid animal! You DESTROYED my marriage!" He hollered, turning sharply back to him and standing over him again.

He growled again, furiously and his balled fists left his side to wrench and tug through his hair for a moment. He screamed and stomped his foot between Kristoff's legs, a grin of relief creeping slowly onto his face at the sound of his victim's sharp howl of pain.

"I-I never even touched her!" He whimpered in defence. "I...I gave her to YOU... I haven't seen her since." He pleaded with him, looking into his eyes.

Hans scoffed and headed towards the iron-barred door.

"Tell that to HER... Tell that to ME when every night I touch her, she speaks your name instead." He hissed.

Kristoff felt both deeply saddened and yet joyful that Anna longed for him. It was proof that he wasn't all alone, and that he wasn't the only one who had been suffering.

She didn't love this crook. She wasn't fooled by his charms or his lies, and although he was paying for it, he was glad that she at least could try and escape. That didn't change the fact that He was paying for it.

That didn't change the fact that Sven had paid for it.

"I'm not sorry." he muttered.

Hans hummed and then stormed away, down the dark, vacant halls.

"Of COURSE you aren't..." he spat.

XxXxXxXxX

Anna stared with a blank face as Hans split into a grin for a millionth time that night, as their two children, Olaf and Hetty, shared their stories of the day.

"And then you never found that fish? Well, I'm sure we'll probably smell where it is by the end of tomorrow!" He said with mock seriousness, and Hetty giggled, covering her mouth with her hands.

Olaf leaped up from his perch on a little stool and latched himself onto his father, snuggling his face into his warm looking fur coat. Hans rested his head on his and soothingly rubbed his back, whispering a reply to whatever muffled question the young boy had asked.

Anna sighed silently, and shuddered, thinking about what those hands were capable of, and what they had already done.

How wrong, it felt, to see those vicious fingers that twisted her flesh and dug their nails into her and curled into fists...unforgiving fists against her in all the places that clothing could hide the scars, the scrapes, and the bruises.

Those fingers, gently running through their daughter's hair as she clambered up into his lap to join the perfect little picture. He kissed their heads with that sick, horrible mouth and lips that curled and sneered and grinned wickedly at her, as he verbally assaulted her with chilling expertise.

If it weren't for all this... all this that she very well KNEW... it almost was as if their painting perfect family life had never ended. It was like they were still newly wed parents, learning to run the kingdom together and teaching their little boy how to walk, and talk, and read.

He had been named Olaf, after the snowman of course, but for fear of Hans' apparent hatred of the ice magic, she pretended it was just a neutral name that she came up with. She was now exceedingly glad that he would never know. The memory of the sun loving snowman should never be infiltrated with his poison and tainted.

The way he'd tainted her memories of Kristoff...

Olaf was now five and looked just like Hans, save those big blue eyes, and a smile that ALWAYS reached his eyes. He was so innocent, and inquisitive, and though he had a few personal differences with his faher, even at such a young age, Hans was truly a good father to him.

Hetty, only three, was a Papa's girl, and was always by his side during the days he spent at home. Often times they, Hans and Anna would joke that she'd take over the kingdom instead of Olaf, thanks to her always being by his side, as though to say that she was 'learning by example' and whatnot.

Now she couldn't help but see a false king, fooling a little girl into being his future pawn to use against her. Sure he hadn't thought of it yet.. or perhaps he had, but either way it was sure to happen. Soon in time, Olaf would be cast aside and thrown with her into the untouchable category and receive the brunt of his frustrations.

But for now, Anna felt more resentment towards her own children, that their existence alone could, for the moment, evoke such natural, and honest smiles from him.

They were warm, and real, and bright, and there was no malice or manipulation yet. It was almost like proof that he as still... HUMAN...

But then, he catches a glimpse of her from out his peripheral vision, his warm and sunny glow is soured and he grins darkly at her, holding the children closer to him and then turning his gaze back to them.

The idea of a perfect family was ruined in that moment and Anna let the tears fall. What was the point in trying anymore? Hans had won. He won everything; the kingdom, her virtue, the adoring kids, the power...

She only had memories, and fear. She shook and ran from the room, throwing herself into the room that used to be her childhood room...

She fell onto the bed and sobbed into the sheets for a good while. She curled under the covers and flipped around the pillow, hugging it, and nuzzling her tears away into its soft feathers.

She imagined her sister there, holding her and telling her how everything was going to be okay. That everything was better now, and that it'd all been a horrible dream. She imagines Kristoff there too... heaven only knew what he looked like now, five years on.

But he was there too, running up to her and joining in, and she snorted, knowing Elsa wouldn't be so touchy-feely in real life, nor would Kristoff be so keen on randomly running up an tackling someone into a hug. It didn't matter though, of course.

She rolled onto her back, the pillow still at her side and she inhaled deeply. It wasn't the first night she'd decided to sleep in this room instead of with Hans. He hadn't done a thing to stop her, which was pleasant for the most part.

She tried to get some sleep. From the moment she closed her eyes, a few minutes later, she didn't know how much time had passed by the time a little body was curled up against her side.

Olaf sighed into the fabric of her dress, warming a little patch of it. He hummed a merry sounding tune as he struggled to force himself under the blankets and slowly woke his sleeping mother.

She was a little disoriented but when her vision and senses clear, she spotted the little prince, struggling and giggled, a sudden fire of indescribable hope filling her chest.

He paused in his struggles and looked up at her in a way that was so uniquely 'Olaf' and then he grinned goofily, plopping down atop her, and then in his ever so quiet voice he chanted;

"Mama...Mama...Mama...Mama..."

She sighed and retorted, "What, what what, Olaf?" He pulled himself up to her ear with his arms and then, resting his mouth against her cheek, he squished his lips and asked, "Do you wanna build a snowman?"

Her heart fluttered and she gasped, recalling the way she'd begged her sister that way, so many times before.

"S-sweetheart, it's not even winter yet, and you know Papa won't let us even go near the snow..." she replied, sitting up and helping him under the covers.

Olaf frowned and then comically bashed his head against the mattress. The added warmth of the blankets, placed on top of them again caused his distress to melt away and then he squealed with glee and cuddled under her arm, using the pillow as a mattress.

"Fine then. But it's okay." He replied, "I like warm things better anyway."

Anna held him closer to her and agreed with a hum, before lulling him to sleep, singing softly about a magical snowman she once knew, who dreamed of summer.

"That's a silly snowman," He whispered before falling asleep, "He'll melt." he smiled.

Anna closed her eyes and rested her head above his on the pillow, a few fresh tears leaking out onto the white fabric.

"Well... some dreams are worth melting for." she said. Dreams, though sometimes outrageous and far away-seeming are never truly impossible. She dreamed of a world where everything was Summer, and just like Olaf the First, she would definitely melt for it, no matter how much it hurt.