THREE

A light frost had slowly begun creeping up the four wooden legs of Elsa's chair. It went unnoticed as a wooden divider separated her, Anna, and the dignitaries from the rest of the room; even Elsa herself remained oblivious, ignorant of how tightly her hands squeezed the end of each armrest. A slight chill lingered in the air around her, but no one thought the drop in temperature unusual—the atmosphere in the courtroom was cold all on its own.

Across the room were eleven seats. Six of them were empty; on the occupied five, Elsa recognized Joris, Jakob, Jorg, Josef and Gregor. The first four remained attentive to the document Prince Jon was reading from the High Judge's stand. Gregor kept his eyes fixedly on his lap, stare as vacant as the seats around him—he had glanced up once and caught her eye, but then looked away with such indifference that Elsa would have preferred if he'd blatantly glared at her. And yet, in spite of the guilt she felt at Gregor's taciturn disposition, Elsa couldn't help wishing that it were the biggest of her worries.

She had to keep reminding herself to take deep breaths. Sometimes it felt like she hadn't been breathing for several minutes at a time. The muscles in her neck and back were cramped and she fidgeted to try and relax them, but she might as well have been trying to wring out a block of ice; the stress she was under was almost unbearable, and the maniacally bobbing foot under her chair was her only form of release. And what was it all for? No amount of tension was going to help her avoid the inevitable.

"Bring out the accused," said Prince Jon, lifting his eyes off the document, removing his glasses.

Elsa kept her gaze down as five figures emerged from a door to her right, digging her fingernails into the armrests of the chair as the cold surged beneath her skin. The moment she had been dreading since receiving this trial's summons had finally come. And though she had tirelessly reassured herself that when the moment came she would be in control, she knew now that she had been a fool to believe it.

She was fully aware that she would erupt with unbounded rage—or fear—the second she laid eyes on him. Either emotion would take full command, whip at her in such a way that she would once more find herself isolated inside her own mind; there would be little else to guide her and she would lose control again as she had last month in Arendelle, as she had last night in the gardens when Gregor had pursued her. It was the same every time. Why should she expect it to turn out any differently now?

The only thing left to do was hope. For what, she wasn't even sure. A miracle, perhaps—but she had never been one to believe in any of that. Hope had done nothing but fail her countless times in the past.

Still, to adamant hope she clung as she lifted her eyes.

Elsa's breath caught in her chest at the scene before her. Whatever did whip at her wasn't fear, and it certainly wasn't rage, but her eyes widened: every organ inside her seemed to drop. Beside her, Anna let out a small gasp. (Out of her peripheral vision, Elsa saw her raise her hand to her mouth.)

Prince Hans of the Southern Isles stood at the center of four guards, guided out by chains attached to the cuffs around his neck and limbs. His head was lowered, his shoulders slumped. The loud haul of the chains cut through the low rumbling that had overcome the crowd in the courtroom.

His once neat and glistening auburn hair was now dull and disheveled. Skin that she had expected to be glowing had obtained an anemic, greenish pallor—or at least, so had the spaces of his face that weren't covered with facial hair. What had previously been a crisp white naval suit was now reduced to a pair of trousers and blouse, both of which were so stained with dirt and mud that they had long lost any hope of being white again... and gone were the lustrous black boots that had once caught the light of her palace's chandelier with every turn he had made on the dance floor. Prince Hans of the Southern Isles now dragged himself across the sparkling marble floors of the courtroom on soiled bare feet.

Elsa was revolted in a way she hadn't expected. Wasn't she supposed to hate the very essence of this man's being? And yet, somehow, that hatred seemed to fade into the background as his current condition took center stage. She was forced to fight a swelling emotion inside her: tender around the edges, grasping at parts of her still left unguarded.

Fearing that instinct would rule out cognitive thought, she cast her eyes down.

"Prince Hans," said Prince Jon. "You are hereby accused of treason on several counts against the crown of Arendelle and the Southern Isles: one count of attempted murder against Her Majesty, Queen Elsa. One count of attempted murder against Her Highness, Princess Anna. One count for breaking the peace pact with our neighbors and loyal friends at Arendelle. Two counts for liberating captured rebels imprisoned for crimes against the crown of the Southern Isles—"

"You have no proof of that!"

The sound of his voice rang out across the courtroom and sent chills down Elsa's spine. Its timbre touched a nerve inside that kick-started her shallow breathing once more.

"Silence!" said Prince Jon. It was hard to tell whether he'd meant to yell, or had simply spoken.

"You can't pin that on me, Jon! You can't just throw—"

"Enough!"

This time he had yelled, and Elsa thought she felt her chair vibrate with the reverberation.

Prince Jon leaned over the stand, towering over his brother. "With or without those charges you still have enough on your plate to name you an enemy of the crown! At this point, what does proof matter?" He sat back down and cast his eyes back to the scroll in front of him, clearing his throat. "Now, how do you plead?"

Elsa waited for the sound that never came.

Slowly, she looked up at Hans. He was staring at the floor in front of him, eyebrows deeply furrowed, a red mark rimming his neck where the edges of his cuff dug. On his pale skin, it stood out like a choker of fresh blood.

"How do you plead?" Prince Jon repeated.

Hans' lips curled. Elsa waited, hands now clasped on her lap, nails biting into her own flesh.

"Guilty."

Elsa blinked. She and Anna exchanged glances while the room around them erupted with a buzzing.

A small smile crept across Jon's lips. "Thought better of it, didn't you?"

Hans didn't reply. He didn't even look up at his condemner. His brother. His own flesh and blood.

"Take him away," the prince ordered.

One of the guards yanked at the chain around Hans' neck. Hans pulled back for a moment, grimacing, before the guard tugged again and he had no choice but to move.

Elsa wanted to look away but she couldn't. She found her gaze fixed on him as he neared her side of the room.

"Why did you bring me here?"

Cuffs had encased her hands once, too. Chains had once also bound her to the dungeons of her own palace. She had also stood alone and terrified, desperate for a single soul who was willing to help, willing to understand.

"I couldn't just let them kill you."

Funny that he had been that person. Funny that the eyes that terrorized her were the same to see her with compassion. Funny that once he had been that gentle ally, a tiny, welcome ember burning in a desert of snow.

But that had all been a lie.

As he passed her, he looked up and met her gaze.

Instantly, Elsa's blood ran cold through her veins. There they were. The emerald eyes that haunted her dreams every night.

"Elsa?" whispered Anna, placing a hand lightly on her sister's wrist. Elsa tore her eyes away and turned to her.

She followed the young princess's gaze and found that her chair had turned to ice.

Elsa and Anna's footsteps resounded on the cobbled grounds of the courtyard, steady and isolated, like the somber beating of a funeral drum march. They had said nothing to each other since leaving the hearing. Not for lack of something to say, either; their racing thoughts were copious, entangling, crisscrossing each other at lightning speed, and they each struggled to convey their emotional onslaught.

In the pit of Elsa's stomach there was an emptiness stemmed from dissatisfaction. She had walked out of the hearing more disturbed than when she'd gone in. She tried to pinpoint, within herself, a reason, something to clarify these feelings and put them to rest, but she didn't realize her mind just kept dancing around it, avoiding the core of the sore spot.

Of course, she could always count on Anna to put her feelings into precise words.

"He deserves this," said Anna, quietly but firmly, as if she were making up her mind. Elsa suspected the girl was talking to herself, until she turned to look at her with a creased brow. "Right?"

Elsa searched her sister's face, and when she couldn't find it in her to reply, they both understood that the question was currently in possession of no answer.

Gaining courage from Elsa's silent accord, Anna proceeded, "It's like, part of me is so angry... I just want him to rot in jail for the rest of his life, and yet at the same time…"

Elsa's breathing turned shallow and she crossed her arms tightly in front of her, half hoping Anna wouldn't finish her sentence.

"…seeing him like that… it's just not right."

"He did ask for it," said Elsa, keeping her gaze strictly on the ground, speeding her speech up a notch. When she spoke, the words felt heavy and twisted on her tongue.

"Oh, I know," said Anna. She picked up her pace and, wringing her fingers in one hand, she continued, "I just… well, I guess it's just easier to stay angry at him when I couldn't see him, when I didn't know how they were treating him…"

Elsa stopped abruptly and turned to face her. "Well, Anna, what would you like them to do? Let him roam around the castle, free and careless, like he didn't do anything wrong?"

"I'm not saying—" Anna began.

"He tried to kill you. He used you and then he tried to kill you before trying to kill me."

"I know!" cried Anna defensively. "I'm not saying he should go free… I'm just saying, there's no joy in seeing him suffer; I mean, I thought there would be and there isn't… and that sucks."

Seeing her sister look so crestfallen and ambivalent touched a nerve within Elsa that quickly dissipated her defenses.

Inhaling and exhaling deeply, she finally surrendered. "I know."

They shared a look of empathy before setting off again. A few steps into their walk, Anna hooked her arm into Elsa's.

"So what now?" asked Anna.

Elsa's brow creased, gaze fixed on the ground as her stomach turned.

"There's something I haven't told you," she said.

"What is it?"

"I ran into Prince Gregor last night," explained Elsa. "He thinks it might be the death penalty for—"

She cut herself short, startled at the discovery that his name was unpronounceable to her. Just four letters, but it would cut her tongue; the pain of it would touch every nerve in her body.

Anna gasped. "Really?"

Elsa nodded dismally. "Prince Gregor assures me there is bad blood amongst almost all the brothers, a lot of it aimed towards—him."

"But why?" asked Anna, incredulous.

Elsa then proceeded to fill her in on Gregor's account.

"That's terrible!" exclaimed Anna when Elsa finished.

"That's not all," said Elsa. They came to a halt and she turned to face her sister, pressing her lips tightly together, gathering the courage to tell her the rest. "He wants me to ask Prince Jon to spare him. He thinks, somehow, if I give him some form of pardon, Prince Jon will feel more inclined—or more pressure—to be lenient with the sentencing."

Anna nodded and blinked rapidly, taking it all in. "Of course." After a pause, she turned her optimistic, curious eyes towards her. "What did you say?"

Elsa felt forced to look away and she cleared her throat before speaking. "I told him I couldn't."

Anna's face dimmed ever so slightly; it was hardly noticeable with the naked eye. But Elsa saw the light of hope leave her eyes as her mouth opened into a small O.

"He tried to kill us, Anna," said Elsa. "Sometimes, I can't even wrap my head around the idea that… if the circumstances had been different... if he'd gotten away with it…"

Her throat seemed to swell, closing up, barring any more words from exit.

Of course, Anna didn't know Elsa still saw her every night, frozen and cold, a lifeless statue, dead by her hand. She didn't know that she woke up to bed sheets covered with flurries that fell from the ceiling, his voice still ringing in her ears, so perfectly clear that only seconds before waking she could swear he was right there in the room with her.

"Your sister's dead… because of you."

"Oh, Elsa," said Anna. "You don't have to explain it to me."

Anna gave her a small smile before hooking her arms into hers again. Slowly, they began their stroll once more.

"I just wish it didn't have to be this way."

"Me too."

The two sisters walked on in silence coming to the edge of the courtyard. They stood high up on a hill at the edge, overlooking the island, watching the turquoise sea that sparkled enticingly beneath the sunlight.

They stood silent for a long while.

Eventually, Anna spoke up, dragging Elsa out from the confines of her own mind.

"But… what if…"

"What?" said Elsa, turning to look at her.

"Well… just hear me out, all right?" Anna said, casting her sister an insecure glance.

Elsa sighed with a worn resignation. "I'm listening."

"Imagine for a moment that it happens. They—well, you know—sentence him to death. Then we go back to Arendelle and everything's perfect and we're all happy and we move on with our lives and completely forget about Hans and about this whole ordeal."

Elsa frowned slightly.

"But," Anna continued, "what if that doesn't happen? What if we go back to Arendelle and all we can think about is how this person is dead… because of us?"

Elsa winced.

"Do we really want to have to have that hanging over our heads for the rest of our lives?" asked Anna. "I, personally, want to leave here and never have to think about Hans or the Southern Isles or anything having to do with him again. And I don't know if I can do that knowing I was responsible in some way for his death.

"Even though he's the worst jerk ever, he's still human. He must be, if he means something to Prince Gregor. I don't blame him. I think, if it were us in this situation… if it were you about to be sentenced to death… I would do everything within my power to try and stop them."

Elsa considered her sister's words. She thought of the dreams that already tormented her, night after night, the words she kept hearing in her head; the visions of Anna, lifeless and frozen. What sort of agony would her brain procure for her if she let Hans die when she had all the power to save him? She shuddered at the possibilities.

Maybe Anna was right. If allowing Hans to live didn't alleviate her daily wars, it might at least prevent them from worsening.

She inhaled and exhaled deeply before replying. "All right. I'll see what I can do."

Anna beamed. "Oh, Elsa! You won't regret this. You'll see!"

Elsa looked up at her sister's face, already lit up with anticipation. Sometimes Elsa could swear Anna carried the whole of the world's optimism within her little frame.

She prayed desperately that one day it wouldn't weigh her down.