Hans wasn't sure what he'd been expecting when Elsa had informed him that they were going to an orphanage, but he hadn't been prepared for it. The place was neither warm nor inviting, the wood worn and sagging. Sixteen small beds lined the large main room, each with a bin at the foot of it containing small toys and blankets; undoubtedly hand-me-downs from other children. Though the children were all clean, it became painfully clear that they were all too thin and sallow looking, wearing threadbare clothes and shoes that were barely holding together. A musty smell hung over the room, as if there were a layer of dust looming over everything. It was clean, but somehow…not. Truth be told, it made Hans feel terrible.

It was clear that Elsa cared for these children; her entire persona changed from quietly poised to open and playful as she presented the children with flowers, kissing the top of each small head. He hung back toward the door, watching her patiently give each child a piece of cheese.

"Did you miss me?" She asked them, guiding them toward the hearth where there were two wooden chairs set beside the fire. The children all responded with various cries of confirmation, hurrying to sit on the threadbare rug in front of the fire. "I've brought you a story today!" She grinned, presenting a leather-bound book.

"What is it called?" A small girl with messy dark braids asked. Hans took her in; noting that her pinafore looked like it was at least a size too small for her with three patches on it. He wasn't sure why it hurt to see the sad conditions these children were living in.

"This story is called 'The Wild Swans'," Elsa informed them, sitting down in the chair. It was strange to see the proper Queen sitting by a dirty hearth with her white-blonde hair braided atop her head like a crown, wearing a simple gown of lavender. She wore no jewels or garish baubles, save for a delicate gold chain around her neck with a charm on it. Her pale cheeks were flushed with color and her smile lit up her entire face, making her look sort of like he'd imagine a heroine from an old fairy tale. Or maybe an angel, but that was ridiculously cliché.

"Hans," Elsa's voice beckoned to him. He blinked, realizing he was still standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. She gestured to the second chair by the fireplace, and he nearly stumbled over his own feet, suddenly feeling like he was all lanky, awkward limbs. The children giggled at his misstep, though strangely, it didn't bother him. It warmed his insides in a way that made him feel like somebody else, though he wasn't sure how that was possible considering he didn't quite know who he was to begin with. Perhaps it was time for him to decide who he wanted to be. He grinned at the laughing children and bowed, making them laugh harder as he stepped through them carefully, sitting in the small wooden chair provided for him and ignoring Elsa's suspicious look.

"Far away in the land to which the swallows fly when it is winter, dwelt a king who had eleven sons, and one daughter named Eliza," Elsa read, "The eleven brothers were princes, and each went to school with a star on his breast, and a sword by his side…"

"En guard!" A boy cried, pointing a play sword at another boy who looked remarkably like him. "I am Prince Frederik, the Conqueror and I claim this land!"

"I will defeat you, you coward!" The other threw back, clapping his wooden sword against the first boy's. "I am King of this realm. I am King Mikael, and I shall destroy you!"

"And I'm Prince Hans!" Hans cried, darting forward with his own sword in hand. "I am a Knight!"

"Go away, Unlucky!" Frederik snapped, glaring at him. "You weren't invited to play!"

"But I want to be a Conqueror too!" Hans insisted indignantly. "I can be your Knight!"

"You're a stupid baby!" Frederik taunted. "You'll just mess it all up."

"Ah, don't be rude, Brother," Mikael scolded Frederik. "You can play with us, Thirteen…if you can retrieve something for us." Hans squinted in confusion, noticing the curiosity on Frederik's face.

"What is it?" He asked.

"You must bring me Father's crown," Mikael informed him.

"But…but…that's locked up in a case in Father's trophy room," Hans protested. "I can't reach it!"

"Then you can't play," Mikael shrugged, turning back to Frederik. "Come on, Freddie! We can make Benedikt be the dragon!"

"I'll do it!" Hans cried desperately, wanting to be part of their play. "I'll bring you the crown."

"Good lad," Mikael laughed, sharing a glance with Frederik. Hans bolted toward the castle, taking a shortcut through his mother's rose garden and nearly colliding with a gardener. He muttered a brief apology, before sprinting into the open courtyard doors, and up the back staircase. His father's trophy room was just down this hall to the left; across from his mother's rooms. He slowed as he drew near, hesitating outside his mother's doors. Crouching down, he put his eye to the keyhole. He could see her lying against the pillows, once brilliant red hair muted and splayed against the pillows. Her eyes were closed. His father was out on a hunt, which meant that the coast was clear for him to enter the King's trophy room. All he had to do was figure out how to reach it.

Padding across the hall, he turned the knob and entered the trophy room, glancing around at the animal heads that lined the walls. He'd never understood why people enjoyed killing animals. Hans decided his best bet was to climb the bookcase next to the crown display and open the latch that way. He gulped, glancing up at the bookcase, which seemed significantly taller than it had just seconds ago, before he stepped up onto the first shelf. It was easy enough, pulling himself up for what seemed like hours until he was very nearly at the level of the case holding his father's crown. He gripped the side of the bookcase, securing his foot in a groove of the wood so that he could lean toward the display without falling. He had very nearly reached the latch, but couldn't quite get it open.

"What do you think you're doing?" His mother demanded, appearing in the doorway of the trophy room. Hans let out a shriek of surprise and lost his grip on the bookcase, trying to hang on the display case. It was too light to hold his weight, however and it began to tip. Hans knew he was in trouble. He could either jump and roll out of the way so the glass didn't shatter on him, or he could fall with it and end up cut. He chose the first, hitting the ground on his side and rolling out of the way as fast as he could manage. A searing pain spread through his arm like wildfire, leaving him to writhe in agony.

"You stupid child!" His mother railed, rushing forward. "Look what you've done to your father's display!"

"I didn't mean to…" He moaned, clutching his arm.

"You never mean to do anything, do you?" She snapped. "You've been a thorn in my side for the past eight years! Do you know that?"

"My arm…," he sobbed, trying to sit up.

"The devil take your damned arm!" She hissed at him. "You'll have more than that to worry about once your father returns."

"But I think it's broken!" He insisted.

"Well, you should have thought of that before you decided to ruin your father's trophy room, you selfish brat!" The Queen returned coldly.

"Mother, please," he reached for her, trying to take her hand. Her eyes widened suddenly, filling with something different. She almost seemed…afraid of him.

"Don't touch me!"

"But I'm your son…"He begged, meeting her eyes, identical to his own. She gaped at him, shaking her head.

"Get out of my sight…" she murmured quietly, turning away from him and bowing her head.

"But, Mother—"

"Go!" He rushed from the room, sobbing. He rounded the corner and nearly ran into the housekeeper.

"Prince Hans!" She exclaimed in horror. "I heard the commotion. What happened?"

"I…did a bad thing," he sniffed. "I broke father's case…"

"From the looks of it, child, you broke more than that," she eyed his arm with a sigh. "Come now, little duckling, I'll send for the doctor."

"Father is going to be so angry," he cried, letting the woman guide him toward the stairs.

"He'll forgive you, sweeting. Fathers get cross with their children sometimes, but they'll always love them."

"Not mine," Hans sniffled, "I don't know what I did, but my parents don't love me. They think I'm a freak. I heard Mother say so."

"Of course they love you, child," she told him, though she sounded less sure of herself. "There now…come along, little prince. I'll send someone along to clean up the mess. We must get that arm patched up."

"As the executioner seized her arm, she made haste to throw the eleven shirts over the swans, who instantly became eleven handsome Princes. But the youngest brother still had a swan's wing in place of one arm, where a sleeve was missing from his shirt. Elisa had not quite been able to finish it. 'Now,' she cried, 'I may speak! I am innocent!' All the people who saw what had happened bowed down to her as they would before a saint. But the strain, the anguish, and the suffering had been too much for her to bear, and she fell into her brothers' arms as if all life had gone out of her.

'She is innocent indeed!' said her eldest brother, and he told them all that had happened. And while he spoke, the scent of a million roses filled the air, for every piece of wood that they had piled up to burn her had taken root and grown branches. There stood a great high hedge, covered with red and fragrant roses. At the very top, a single pure white flower shone like a star. The King plucked it and put it on Elisa's breast. And she awoke, with peace and happiness in her heart.

All the church bells began to ring of their own accord, and the air was filled with birds. Back to the palace went a bridal procession such as no King had ever enjoyed before." Elsa closed the book, smiling at the children. "The end."

"But I don't understand," the same little girl with the dark, messy braids announced, looking confused.

"What don't you understand, Mathilda?" Elsa replied patiently.

"Why did Elisa marry the King if he wanted to have her killed?" She asked, "He didn't believe her! He was going to let her die!"

Elsa winced visibly, her eyes resting briefly on Hans, before she adopted a smile on her face. "It was a misunderstanding," she told the girl. "The moral of this story, children, is that no matter what, it is always important to stay true to yourself. Love is the most powerful magic of all, you see? Elisa's love and dedication saved her brothers."

"Well, except for the one who still had a wing for an arm," a boy pointed out, making Elsa chuckle.

"Yes, except for that," she agreed. Hans couldn't laugh, however, because he was still reeling from the vision he'd just had. His arm throbbed, even though he knew quite well that it wasn't broken, but somehow he knew it had been once.

"Your Majesty," another child, a girl, spoke up. "Could you do the magic?"

"Yes, please!" Another chimed in as a resounding chorus of pleas to the Queen filled the room. Hans noticed Elsa falter slightly for a moment, but she composed herself at once, nodding.

"Very well, but just a little," she told them. Hans watched in open mouthed wonder as she gestured elegantly with her hands, producing a glowing blue orb. "One…two…three!" In an instant, the entire room was transformed into a winter wonderland with a gentle layer of ice over the floor and fluffy flakes of snow drifting lazily to the floor. Hans watched the Queen, marveling at her apparent ease with her power while he could barely control his own. He looked down at his own hands.

Love is the most powerful magic of all.

If only there was someone out there who loved him…


Elsa watched Hans out of the corner of her eye as they walked through the village. She noticed people eyeing him suspiciously, clearly recognizing the would-be usurper from two years earlier, though none of them would dare question her judgment. Not that she wasn't questioning herself these past few days. If somebody had told her a year earlier – no – a month earlier even, that Hans would wash up on her shore and she wouldn't immediately have him locked up, she would have scoffed and called them a naïve fool. But, that was before she had learned about their supposed destiny.

What worried Elsa was that his memories were going to return and she would have to brace for the worst again. Undoubtedly, he would try to take her throne again. Or, if not, he would exact revenge on her for thwarting him. Still, she couldn't deny that this version of Hans was not the villain who had left her shores in chains. This was nothing but a lost boy. What was intriguing, or perhaps better described as curious, was the fact that Hans had power. She found herself wondering if he'd had them all along, or if his parents had actually succeeded in suppressing them with magic. Had he possessed power when he'd come to her coronation? Her eyes fell to his hands that moved by his sides as he walked beside her and she realized with a touch of surprise that he'd worn gloves for the entirety of his time in Arendelle before.

Then again, she had sort of frozen the entire kingdom, so there was that. Still, it was curious. It was familiar. Elsa swallowed, casting her eyes on the sun bathed cobblestone road as they strolled. It was warm this afternoon with no clouds against the vividly blue late spring sky, and she was grateful for her bonnet; she'd have been red as a lobster in minutes otherwise.

Elsa studied Hans' profile, noting that despite her resolve to remain unsympathetic toward him, she could not deny that he was a handsome man. Now that the gauntness had gone from his sallow cheeks and his color had returned, she couldn't help admiring the finely shaped nose and strong jawline. He was broader in the shoulders than she'd initially thought, but her eyes were drawn to his gleaming red hair. It was more auburn than Anna's red, gleaming in the sunlight. It made her scowl because she thought it was beautiful. Elsa had always envied the brilliant red of her sister's hair, intermixed with strands of gold and honey while her hair barely had color at all. It was practically white, and so thick that it was dreadfully heavy. She'd always felt like a colorless lily beside Anna, who was more like brilliant bouquet of summer flowers.

Lost in thought, the toe of Elsa's walking boot caught on an uneven stone, and she lost her balance, flying forward unceremoniously. She extended her arms, releasing a blast of ice, which only served to make things worse. Mortified, she covered her face, but was surprised when a pair of hands caught her around the waist. Her eyes widened with the realization that it must be Hans, but when she turned to look up at him, she was looking into a pair of blue eyes and sighed in relief, recognizing the Captain of the Royal Guard.

"My lady," he said with concern in his voice, setting her to her feet and checking her over, "Are you hurt?"

"No, of course not," she assured him, laughing nervously and stepping away. "Just slightly mortified."

"I'm glad," the Captain told her before his eyes widened in horror. "Er, glad you're not hurt, not glad that you're mortified." Elsa laughed, patting his arm reassuringly.

"I understand, Captain," she returned pleasantly, adjusting her bonnet and straightening her skirts. "Er…I'm afraid I don't know your name."

"Gabriel," he inserted for her, smiling broadly.

"Gabriel," she echoed, returning his smile. "Thank you for your help."

"My lady," the Captain bowed, before returning to his post with the other guards. Elsa turned back to Hans, who looked like he'd smelled something sour.

"I…didn't hit you, did I?" She asked to fill the uncomfortable silence.

"No," he answered sullenly, turning his eyes forward. "May I offer you my arm?" He asked in a sharp tone, making her bristle internally.

"No, thank you," she snipped back, glowering at his profile. "I can manage fine on my own."

"Hmmpf," came his response and the silence returned. They'd very nearly reached the village square when he spoke again. "You do realize that man is in love with you, don't you?"

"Which man?" Elsa asked, frowning in bemusement. Green eyes gave her a sidelong glance.

"The one whom just had you in his arms," he retorted moodily.

"The Captain?" She balked, making a sound of irritation. "He was doing his duty," she insisted.

"All too conveniently," Hans pointed out with a raised brow, earning an icy glare from the Queen.

"Sir, he has honor. He would never think of me that way," she retaliated with a hiss. "More than you can say, I'm sure."

"I'll admit outright that I find you beautiful, Your Majesty. Maybe that means I have no honor," the amnesic Prince shrugged as Elsa felt her face grow red. "But I don't care how much honor that man has, he does think of you that way. Not that I fault him—"

Elsa let out a growl, feeling the palms of her hands turn cold. "If you say another word, I will encase you in ice just to be rid of your incessant provocation." She narrowed her eyes on him. "Still as arrogant as ever with no memories."

"Was I?" Hans asked, sobering. "Apologies, my lady. I…" He swallowed, shaking his head. "I don't know what's come over me."

Elsa sighed, yielding. "No, it's fine…I'm sure it must be…frustrating…for you to not know anything about your own life. I overreacted."

"I did provoke you," he reminded her amiably.

"Yes," she agreed, trying to suppress the smile that was threatening at her lips. "You did."

"Let me make amends," he suggested, holding out his arm to her. She stared at it, unmoving and marveling at the absurdity of this scenario. She couldn't imagine what Anna would think of her right now, cavorting with their worst enemy; a man who had left her for dead. It was so utterly ridiculous, she couldn't help herself; she began to laugh. It started small like a ripple in a pond and a moment later, spilled over like a tidal wave. It was either laugh or cry, and frankly, Elsa had cried enough in her life.

Let me make amends…as if offering her his arm could ever erase the harm he'd done. It was too hilarious.

"Well, if I'm going to Hell anyway," she muttered, linking her arm through Hans'. It was surprising to her, because she could feel the feverish heat radiating off of his skin through his sleeves. The sounds of a band playing in the village square filled the air, enveloping them pleasantly.

"Music," Hans mused, raising his brows.

"Very perceptive," she quipped with half a grin. They came to the edge of the crowd, who were gathered around a group of people dancing. Elsa craned her head, peering through the spaces between people.

"Would you like to dance?" Hans asked, meeting her eyes. Elsa bit her lower lip, shaking her head.

"I…can't," she told him, swallowing. His eyes filled with confusion, before he nodded resignedly.

"I see," he sighed. "Because of what I did…before…"

"No!" Elsa quickly replied, "I mean, yes, but that's not why I can't dance with you."

"I don't understand." His voice was not unkind, but it was somewhat less warm than it had been moments before, when they were joking. Her eyes flitted toward the dancers, whirling effortlessly with each other, making it look like the easiest thing in the world.

"I…" Elsa let go of his arm, turning away from him, grateful that none of the villagers had yet noticed that the girl in the lavender dress and bonnet was their ruler. It was too humiliating. She was transported back to the night of her coronation, staring her accusers in the face; a little girl lost with no control over any part of her life.

"Elsa…"

Elsa shook her head as her eyes welled up. Shaking her head, she turned and fled from him, slipping past her guards and retreating into the shade of an alcove next to the bakery. She longed for the comfort of her quiet chambers in the castle, the weight of thirteen wasted years of youth bearing down on her.

"Your Majesty!" Hans caught up with her at once, skidding across the smooth stone and bowing into the alcove that was just slightly too small for his tall frame and bending over her. "I hope I haven't offended you."

Sniffling, Elsa chuckled ruefully, wiping at the wetness beneath her eyes with her thumbs. "No," she told him in defeat, "You haven't offended me. I'm just realizing how much of my life I missed being a coward." He said nothing, but his eyes softened as he waited for her to continue. "I can't dance with you because, well, I never learned how." She gratefully accepted the proffered handkerchief from his hand, dabbing at her eyes. "Dancing requires touching, and…" She held up a hand to demonstrate her point. Her face crumpled. "I spent so long avoiding the rest of the world…I don't know how to be part of it anymore. And I want to," her voice broke, "I want to so badly." She exhaled in frustration. "I don't know why I'm even telling you this…but it just…feels so wonderful to tell somebody."

"What about your sister? Anna?" He asked in a cautious voice.

"I don't want to burden her," Elsa confessed, "With our parents gone I need to be strong for her. I neglected Anna for so long…"

"Isn't that what family is supposed to do?" He challenged gently, "Support each other?"

Elsa swallowed, stunned. He was right, of course, and she wanted to hate him for it, but she couldn't muster up the strength. If she couldn't lean on Anna, then what was the point of being there for each other? It wasn't as if Anna couldn't protect herself; certainly her feisty sibling had proven that when she'd gone after her rogue sister and saved Elsa's life and her own with the excessive amount of love she'd always had inside her. Anna was the strongest person she'd ever known.

"Look, I don't know you very well," Hans expressed running a hand through his hair, "Hell, I don't really know me very well…but from what I can tell, you carry the weight of your worries all by yourself, and you don't need to. You have people that love and care about you. That's more than some people can say." Elsa noticed that his smile did not reach his eyes. "Maybe some people don't deserve love."

"Everyone deserves to be loved," Elsa insisted. "We're all born innocent. It's life that changes us, and the choices we make." She looked up into his face, surprising herself. "You want a second chance? This is it," she told him. "The only person who can decide your fate is you. So, decide. What kind of choices will you make now? How will you repair the damage you've done?"

Hans stared at her with his mouth slightly agape, taken aback by her challenge. His eyes were wide, bright in contrast to the darkness of the alcove. "You're right," he murmured, sounding dazed. "No matter what I do…or how much I change…I can never undo what I did to you and your sister...no amount of apology could ever make up for it."

"No," Elsa agreed, astonishing herself as she took his hand between both of hers, pressing their palms together; hot and cold. "But, it's a start."

"Then, I offer my deepest and most regretful apology," he told her thickly. "My actions were beyond reproach and I will live with the shame of my crime every day of my life."

"Thank you," Elsa answered. "I still can't forgive you. Maybe someday…but I am grateful for the gesture all the same."

"Shall we return to the square?" He asked, gesturing toward the crowd.

Elsa shook her head. "I think I've had enough excitement for one day." She exited the alcove first with him bowing out behind her. She noticed her guards nearby, watching her with concern. The Captain relaxed at the sight of her, though she did notice his eyes narrow slightly on Hans, but it passed so quickly, she wondered if she'd imagined it. Turning back to Hans, her eyes fell to the arm he was offering to her.

"My lady?" He asked. Elsa stared at it for a moment, swallowing her doubt.

I am not a coward.

She took his arm.


You guys, THANK you for reading this. Seriously.

The excerpts of the fairytale Elsa was reading to the children were from The Wild Swans, another lovely story by the amazing Hans Christian Andersen. :)