Author's Note: As always, the notes for this chapter can be found on my tumblr.
The next thing Elsa knew, she was in the castle library on the couch. Anna and Kristoff were talking in low voices by the door; he leaned in to kiss her cheek and his worried eyes met Elsa's.
Kristoff gave her a reassuring smile and nod over Anna's head, and then he was gone. The door shut behind him with a click.
A rustle of heavy skirts. Anna sat down beside her, a familiar warm presence that soothed Elsa instantly. "What happened, Elsa?" asked her small worried voice.
She took a deep breath, fighting the urge to simply retreat into herself. And when she opened her mouth, the words came tumbling out.
"There was a storm," said the blonde girl. Anna's hand immediately felt for hers and gripped it. "We were caught in it, and – I panicked."
Visceral memory seared through her mind; the dark water, the frightened shouts of the men, the lurching of the ground beneath her feet –
"I started to freeze everything. I – don't remember exactly what happened next, but then – I thought of you."
The look in Anna's eyes was soft and encouraging. Elsa smiled shakily, squeezing her sister's hand back. "I managed to calm down and thaw everything."
She still had the presence of mind not to mention Hans' presence and his role in calming her down.
Anna listened without a word, her expression grave, and when Elsa stopped talking, she drew her sister into a hug. "Oh, Elsa."
The queen cried then, alone in the room with her little sister. Ice dusted her fingertips and melted on Anna's clothes; oblivious, she rubbed small circles on Elsa's back and held her close.
Elsa pulled away gently. "I'm sorry," she said at length, when she was convinced she could speak without her voice carrying the telltale wobble.
Anna gave her a soft, lopsided smile. "Don't be stupid, Elsa. What do you have to be sorry for?"
"This. I don't know; not being the strong older sister," she heard herself say. "I wish I could be as brave as you."
The younger girl shook her head. "I don't want to hear you say that ever again, Elsa. You've spent twenty-one years being strong. And there are other things more important than being brave; you're wonderful and smart and so elegant…"
"You're always having to look after me. Now's my turn to do the same for you."
"No," said Elsa with as much firmness as she could muster. "It's not about whose turn it is to take care of whom. There are things I have to do that I can't let you do, Anna." She looked away, out the window at the fjord. "I'm the Queen. There are other people I have to consider – "
" – I'm not a child anymore!" burst out Anna with some frustration, which made Elsa start. "Why can't anyone let me make decisions for myself?"
"Because you shouldn't. You shouldn't have to."
The strawberry-blonde sighed and put an arm around Elsa's shoulders. "But I want to."
Their eyes met. Anna's eyes were the exact same shade of teal as her own; but her little sister's was so much more determined. She could see it in the set of her mouth, the firm lines of her jaw, the steel in her gaze.
Elsa wondered when the little girl with pigtails had grown up, and felt a tinge of regret she had missed it.
Thirteen years' isolation had taken away a lot more than just sisterly bonding – Elsa realized she no longer knew the young woman on the other side of the door.
The young queen took a deep breath. "Anna," she began hesitantly, "you're right."
Anna blinked. "Wait, what?"
It brought a small smile to Elsa's lips. "You're right. You're no longer a child anymore, and I really should learn to trust you more. I can't – I can't keep on protecting you," a wry look entered her eye, "or think I'm attempting to."
"You shouldn't have to protect me – I can take care of myself."
The memory of their conversation weeks earlier made the queen smile.
"I know you can take care of yourself," she said, squeezing Anna's hand. "But I want to have the chance to take care of you." Elsa's expression turned wistful. "While I still can."
She smiled back, her eyes a little watery. "I'm afraid you're stuck with me for life, Elsa. Apart from you, who's gonna stop me from marrying guys I'd just met?" laughed Anna, rubbing at her eyes with the heel of her hand. "And even now, I swear, if you could see some of the stuff Kristoff gets up to…"
"Never mind Kristoff, I'm more worried about the things you drag him into," Elsa retorted. "And if I recall correctly, you didn't take my big sister-decision very well…"
Anna gave her sister's shoulder a small push. "Well, why couldn't you have tropical powers or something? Then you could've covered the fjord with warm, sandy beaches instead…"
"I'm terribly sorry, for being born with just ice powers," said Elsa, rolling her eyes.
The princess just giggled. "You're such a stinker."
When the ship was docked, Hans had precious little to do; such that he almost wanted to be stuck on night duty, because at least he had something.
The boredom was terrible. He'd braided enough rope to outfit the little merchant ship for a good few voyages. He was almost bored enough to go back to his plotting –
Ah. My plotting. Hans bent down on the pretence of rubbing his ankle; in reality, he checked the dagger hidden in his boot.
Haakon had forced him into this – by giving him a way out, when Hans wasn't sure he could take it. When he doubted himself.
Haakon. Barely a year older than Hans, and as cunning as men twice his age and experience. The prince with the face of an angel and the heart of a devil.
It wasn't him who had coined that phrase; it had been the people of the Southern Isles, hearing rumours of an unfortunate family who had fallen afoul of Haakon. The daughter of the family had caught the prince's eye, and when she became pregnant, her father had come to the palace to demand the baby's father marry his daughter.
Haakon looked down his nose, lip curling as he took in the humbly-dressed man. "How many in your family, sir?" he said.
"My lord?"
"How many?" he repeated.
"Four, my liege," answered the man with some confusion. "Myself, my wife, my daughter, and her brother."
"I see." Haakon clasped his hands behind his back. "Have you told anyone else of this matter?"
The man looked confused. Hans, standing to the side, suddenly realized what was happening; he felt nauseous.
"Haakon, no," he hissed, crossing the hall and seizing his brother's arm.
Haakon shook off the hand coldly. "Stay out of this, little brother." He walked over to the kneeling man and clasped his shoulder. "Come, Father," he said, "return to your home. My men will go with you, and escort my wife-to-be back to the palace, where she shall be prepared for our wedding."
"Y – yes, Prince Haakon!" stammered the man. Hans saw the happiness in the poor man's eyes, and nearly retched.
"Your Highness – won't His Majesty disapprove of such a marriage – "
"My father would have no objections whatsoever to any decision I make," said Haakon smoothly.
Hans left the room and locked himself in his chambers.
The next morning, he wasn't surprised to hear that the family had vanished, their house burnt to cinders in a fire.
He'd gone to the older prince's chambers, stomach turning in disgust. "Haakon, you – "
" – I did what had to be done," said the man coldly, "and if I may give you a word of advice, Hans, a king cannot afford to be this – softhearted."
Hans was still sickened. But ambition chipped away at his reservations with cold reason: It was that man's folly. His daughter shouldn't have gotten pregnant. The scandal would have destroyed the royal family's reputation. There was no way he could have stopped Haakon and his men.
He stopped thinking after the first sleepless night.
Hans wasn't sure if he was better because he would never stoop to Haakon's level, or worse because if he had been in his brother's position, he would have done the dirty work himself, to be sure there were no witnesses left alive.
Heavy footsteps stopped in front of him, startling him from his thoughts.
"Boy," growled a familiar voice.
The young man smiled mirthlessly. "Sieg."
The walk to the prison felt longer than normal, and the dagger weighed heavily on his foot with every step.
Hans grimaced. He'd held greater secrets and plots before; he had gone soft in captivity.
His brother had forced his hand – though whether he was aware of it, Hans couldn't be certain. Haakon was, after all, a master manipulator. Before, Hans would have taken the dagger without a moment's hesitation; he would have used it to stab her with a smile on his face, and taken the blood-stained crown from her body.
The game had had changed now. Anna had been a sweet girl who had charmed herself with the idea of him, but in Elsa he found a truly fascinating counterpart; a formidable opponent to meet on the chessboard.
Can I raise my sword to her again?
He tripped over a flagstone and swore. Sieg snorted derisively.
Hans decided it would be safer to focus on his physical situation.
Sieg's presence was not unexpected. It was reasonable enough to suppose that he would be put back in prison, now that the merchant ship had sufficient sailors, he thought. Equally reasonable was the circumstances that demanded he be put under lock and key, since it was tempting fate for him to be out of Arendelle without a proper guard.
But as the door slammed shut behind him, Hans felt a twinge of despair to be facing four walls again.
"Hello, old friend," he muttered, staring down at the stone slab.
The pallet bed was exactly as he'd left it; the faded green blanket crumpled at its foot. He remembered seeing it for the first time when he had brought her back to Arendelle, shackling her in those silver manacles –
Hans shook his head.
He paced over to the window, where he could just see the mast of the merchant ship he'd just left. They'd sailed to Corona on a diplomatic visit. She'd visited him in the hold.
With an angry noise, Hans returned to his pallet and sat on the floor. There was his battered water pitcher, with the large dent in the side where he'd kicked in in a fit of childish petulance after she'd cooled his fever –
The young man ran his hands through thick auburn hair, mussing the already tousled locks. The skin was still pinkish from having the skin frozen off –
"Damnation!" he swore, shutting his eyes.
It was a mistake.
Images sprang to mind –
The steely look filled with determination, that dared him to speak –
The tilt of her jaw as she laughed at a joke he'd told –
Her smile –
Obsession; that's what it was, said Hans to himself. He'd struck a deal with Haakon and his brothers. He could still become King of Arendelle if he played his cards right. He would need all his powers of seduction and cunning if he wanted to play his cards right.
But that had been before he got to know Elsa.
He needed to overthrow the Queen of Arendelle – not Elsa.
She is a remote figure, an opponent in the game to be outmaneuvered and checkmated – and not Elsa, the shy, clever girl with the infectious laugh and captivating smile.
A sensation of something he vaguely recognized nagged at his heart, gnawing away at him. The last time a person had filled his thoughts so completely, he'd been a young boy at his father's court, and he had seen a young princess from another kingdom accompanying her father on a visit.
Their eyes had met across the crowded hall and she had smiled; he'd felt a prickle in his chest. Hans supposed he was falling ill; the young prince had spent late nights reading in the library in the days previously.
She had approached him again later at night and he'd fallen all over himself trying to ask her for a dance; with an undignified giggle, she'd agreed and offered her hand.
The warm feeling stayed in his chest all night.
After she'd left, he'd written her letters. He hadn't known what one wrote in letters to princesses, and simply told her what he'd learnt from his tutors.
Her replies, filled with frivolous sentiments and courtly language, puzzled him enough to take them to his tutors – who had laughed him out of their classrooms.
"Surely, Prince Hans, you know how to talk to a young lady?" they said.
In the end, he'd never replied. Years later, he heard that she'd been married off to a duke or something.
The warm feeling was replaced by a pain, and Hans reasoned that he was sick. The pain was gone after a day's bedrest, and he paid no more attention to the matter.
Come to think of it, this is the same feeling that I felt that night on the ship, when I was with her. When her hands were in mine.
His head dropped into his hands.
It was unthinkable, laughable, ridiculous.
A prince doesn't have feelings.
A prince doesn't have feelings for a woman he tried to kill – and is still trying to.
Slowly, Hans lifted his head. "Damn you, Haakon," he growled, clenching white-knuckled fists.
Elsa didn't convene the meeting with her burghers and masters that day. Anna told them to come back the next day, as "Her Majesty Queen Elsa was still tired from the voyage, and needed time to recover."
"I am, and I do?" asked Elsa with some bemusement as Anna came back to her room, wearing a triumphant expression.
"You are," her sister informed her with mock solemnity. "Put on your nightgown and wait here, I'll be right back with – suitable remedies, Your Majesty…" Her lips twitched, and she let out a giggle.
The queen couldn't help but to smile; the younger girl's humour was infectious. "Yes, Princess Anna," said Elsa, and both girls started giggling.
When Anna returned with hot chocolate, it turned out her idea was to have a lazy day "Anna-style" – which involved copious amounts of hot chocolate, cushions, and laughter.
Elsa took a sip from the warm mug in her hands. Rich and creamy, with that malty cocoa flavor she loved so much.
"This is delicious, did you make it?" she asked, immediately regretting the question the moment it left her lips. Of course she didn't, Anna isn't as free as too personally make hot chocolate for her sister.
Anna grinned. "Nope. I'm banned from the kitchens permanently after I destroyed a frying pan trying to make chocolate waffles. But the cocoa is a favourite of Mama and Papa."
"I didn't know they liked hot chocolate," remarked Elsa. "And I don't think I want to know about the waffles…"
Her sister blushed. "They loved it, Papa especially. He used to joke that we should move Arendelle further south so we could grow cocoa." Anna drank deeply from her own mug. "I'd always thought we got our love of chocolate from him."
The idea of her father loving chocolate seemed absurd to Elsa for some reason. "I never saw Papa or Mama eat chocolate," she confessed.
"Wait, what? Really?" Anna looked stunned.
The blonde girl blushed under her sister's scrutiny. "I never stayed long at mealtimes, remember? I always excused myself before dessert."
"Oh." The princess brushed a lock of hair behind her ear.
Elsa forced a smile. "It's no big deal, Anna," she said softly, "that time is past." She put down the mug, reaching over to touch her sister's cheek. "Open doors, remember? We have a whole lifetime to build snowmen and ride bicycles."
"It doesn't have to be a snowman." Anna hiccoughed, the corners of her mouth lifting in a smile. "You remembered."
"I was always listening."
The strawberry-blonde girl snuggled closer, resting her head in the crook of Elsa's neck.
In the late afternoon, Elsa had begged off her 'treatment' to go to her study and tackle some of the more important correspondence that had been awaiting her return from Corona.
Sieg found her there, surrounded by an impressive mound of paperwork.
He cleared his throat and she looked up.
"Sieg?"
"Queen Elsa," he said without preamble, "I thought you would like to know that the prisoner has been transferred back to his cell."
She stopped writing. "What? Why?"
"The ship he was serving on will be sailing for Novgorod tomorrow afternoon; the captain and harbourmaster requested I take him back into my custody." Sieg cleared his throat. "Pending your orders, my queen."
"I understand." Elsa signed her name at the bottom of the writ and stood up. "I will see the prisoner and make my decision."
The last person Hans wanted to see at that moment, lost as he was in indecision and conflicting feelings, was the regal young woman.
But she entered his cell without ceremony; he hastily got to his feet, hissing in pain as his palms grated on the stone floor.
Her gaze flickered towards his hands, but she said nothing.
"Queen Elsa," he said, "to what do I owe this pleasure?"
"Your fate." She smiled faintly. "What am I supposed to do with you?"
"You had quite a few options, as I recall."
Elsa pretended not to hear him. "I don't think I can put you to work in the stables… Anna rides often. Perhaps one of the tradesmen…"
Hans stopped listening. His attention refocused on her, trying to puzzle out the reason why she had the same effect on him as the little princess.
And somewhere along the way, he had lost his drive to play the game. She was no longer a rival player, the opponent to beat, but…
Suddenly, losing didn't seem so bad.
"Is the prospect of spending years of hard labour in Arendelle becoming too boring for you?" said Elsa sardonically.
He was startled. "I – no. My apologies."
The young queen eyed him carefully. Hans forced a smile.
"In any case, I think I'm done here." She half-turned to go.
He watched her leave, his heart turning over; Haakon had forced him into a tight spot indeed.
"Your Majesty?"
Elsa looked up from her book. "Yes, Kai?"
"You have a visitor from the Southern Isles." The veteran butler tried not to let his suspicion show in his voice. "Prince Haakon."
"Haakon?" She frowned and tried to remember why that name sounded familiar. "Ah – his brother's apologist," said Elsa.
She rose from her seat. "I will receive him in the throne room," she instructed Kai.
He was ushered into the hall where she awaited, seated on Arendelle's throne.
"Welcome to Arendelle, Prince Haakon," said Elsa formally. "It's good to see you."
"It's a pleasure to see you again, Your Majesty," answered Haakon as he bowed and kissed her outstretched hand. "How have you been lately?"
"Busy as always; governance is a burden no matter what others say."
He laughed politely. "To others, perhaps so, but I have trouble believing that you have any difficulty. Alas, my queen, my visit today is much more serious than I would have liked."
"Oh?"
Haakon's handsome face turned grave. "I have a serious matter to discuss with you, Queen Elsa."
It was another sleepless night for Hans. To while away the hours, he took to sitting at the window, watching the fjord. It was late autumn now; the nights had gotten much colder as the north winds swept in.
The worn green blanket draped over his shoulders, Hans watched the ships in the harbour rock gently with the tide.
It was almost like being on night duty again.
His thoughts drifted like seafoam on the waves.
Fireworks. A dark harbour surrounding a castle of light. Her eyes caught the lantern light and showed him changeable shades of blue…
What had she said about Kant? Something about morality…
Morality based on reason – she was talking about my behaviour.
He smiled at the memory of her serious face. Of course he'd read Kant. The Southern Isles had a well-stocked library, thanks to generations of scholar-kings before his father – albeit somewhat in disrepair, as King Magnus preferred conquering kingdoms to reading about them.
Hans was no scholar, but he had read some of the essentials as recommended by the royal tutors.
He'd been pleasantly surprised when Elsa mentioned Kant. The young man hadn't been expecting much after meeting Anna (the girl had confessed that her literary tastes ran to and stopped at the Brothers Grimm) but it appeared that Elsa was more fond of books than her sister.
He'd been reluctant to engage her in debate, wary of her intentions.
Maybe we can discuss philosophy one day.
The thought was fleeting, but pleasant.
Long after Anna had fallen asleep, her hair in disarray due to her tossing and turning in her sleep, Elsa took to the windowseat where she had spent many long hours.
Her palms rested lightly on the cracked and warped wood; although damaged from repeated freezing and thawing, Elsa never allowed the sill to be repaired. It was a reminder of her isolation.
From the window, she commanded a magnificent view of the castle courtyard and fjord. The clouded sky still betrayed a few rays of moonlight that picked out the fishing boats in the harbour, the houses of the town, the far-off mountains.
The harbour wasn't ablaze with many little lights, the castle dark and quiet, and he wasn't on board the ship…
Elsa bit her lip.
He was cruel, evil, and conniving. He had attempted to kill her and Anna, and come precariously close to doing both. He had taken advantage of a naïve girl's affections and thrown them down in the harshest way possible, trampled in the path towards his own towering ambition – more than once.
And he had helped her.
She knew she was betraying everything she stood for, everyone she loved. It had been a huge mistake to even keep him prisoner; she should have just ended his life, or washed her hands of him.
Instead, she had shown him her vulnerability for him to exploit, to worm his way into her affections as he had told Anna was his intention, and gotten uncomfortably close.
It was a good thing she had been saved from making another mistake.
Tomorrow, she would ask him for the dagger.
Hans' head snapped up when he heard the feminine voice outside his cell.
"Queen Elsa," he croaked as she flung the door open. Her face looked like it had been sculpted from ice, all hard planes and cold beauty.
"Where is it?" she asked.
He blinked. "What?"
"The dagger." Elsa held out one hand, the other clenched into a trembling fist in her skirt. "Where have you hidden it?"
Hans felt a queer swooping sensation as though the bottom had dropped out of his stomach. "Queen Elsa, I – "
"Don't. Play games. With me," she ground out through her clenched teeth. Layered beneath her anger was disappointment, and it stung.
Wordlessly, he bent down and pulled the dagger from his boot. Turning the hilt towards her, he placed it in her waiting hand. Ice sprang up around it and completely encased the dagger; another gesture shattered the metal into useless fragments.
The pieces in Hans' mind fell neatly into place. "Haakon told you," he said abruptly.
The flash in her eyes told him he had been right. "I see no need to tell you anything," she said, in the cold neutral tone he remembered from their first meeting after the eternal winter.
Hans leaned against the wall, laughing shakily. "Of course. Of course. I've been such a fool. Father would never have forgiven me." He stared at the shards of the dagger. "Outmanoeuvred by my brother in one masterstroke."
"I suppose you owe him your gratitude now? Perhaps you will accept him as an ambassador of the Southern Isles to Arendelle? Or maybe a dynastic alliance?" he asked bitterly.
"I am grateful for nothing," she snapped, and Hans was shocked by how hurt she sounded; fragile, like cracked porcelain. "This episode has simply proven to me that princes of the Southern Isles cannot be trusted, least of all you."
"Queen Elsa – "
She crouched down, holding his eyes with her ferocious stare. "Look me in the eye, Hans, and tell me you didn't take the dagger willingly. Tell me he forced it on you, or he planted it on your person."
He looked away and said nothing.
Elsa's gaze turned icy. "Very well," she said, standing up straight, "that settles it."
She walked out like a true queen, head held high. "Sieg, arrange for a ship to deliver the prisoner back to the Southern Isles."
"Yes, my queen."
Hans' breath came in curling misty clouds, the only movement in the cell.