Chapter 8: Hans' Return

"Well, I think the time has come!" Anna declared in a chipper tone over breakfast one morning about two weeks after Hans and Adam had departed for the Southern Isles.

"And what time is that?" Elsa asked with affectionate but distracted warmth, glancing out the window as the melting ice continued its slow but steady descent. Winter was ending and Spring was on its way.

"Well…" Anna said again, her tone as slow and unsure as the trickling water that was rolling off of the rooftops from the thickest icicles. "I was speaking with Chancellor Carston, and he mentioned to me that the council of advisors is beginning to grow more curious about when you—" Anna pointed playfully at Elsa with a wink —"Are going to choose a husband."

Elsa grimaced. "A husband?" The word tasted sour in her mouth. "Why? What for?" She returned to her cinnamon-topped porridge with feigned new interest, trying to avoid this subject the moment it was introduced.

"The people of Arendelle generally feel safest and most secure with a king and a queen," Anna explained, pulling a piece of her chocolate muffin off with a motion intended to seem casual, but one that only betrayed the nervousness she felt mentioning this topic to Elsa.

"You mean, they feel safer with a man on the throne instead of just a woman," Elsa proclaimed grumpily. She began mixing her porridge up a bit violently.

"Hey, what did that breakfast ever do to you?" Kristoff asked slyly, trying to lesson the tension that filled the air all too plainly. It didn't work.

"I'm not sure that's it," Anna replied, "And you can't seriously think that's the way I see it, either. I mean, come on, have we met? I think it's just that, to the council, anyway, and to the people, it feels more…whole, more complete…to have both monarchs ruling."

Elsa sighed so heavily that the strands of hair framing her face flew upwards. "What does the council have in mind?"

"A ball," Anna said with unconcealed excitement, "to which all of the eligible male nobles will be invited, and you can meet them all, and—"

"No," Elsa declared frostily, standing up and beginning to pace the room. "No, no, no, no."

"But you deserve to meet someone, to have romance," Anna attempted, but it was futile. Of course, she couldn't understand that Elsa had done both of those things, only to find that it, too, was futile.

"Since it'll never be on my own terms anyway, I suppose I may as well surrender to this absurd tradition," Elsa fumed, squeezing her eyes shut to keep her powers in check. It would be all to easy to let a stray flurry ease her frustration.

"Elsa, I had no idea this would upset you so much," Anna said, striding over to put an arm around Elsa's stiff shoulders. "I'm sorry I even suggested going along with their plan. To be honest, I thought it would be kind of fun…I thought maybe you were lonely lately, that you'd like a chance to find love. I guess I just got carried away."

"No, it's not your fault," Elsa relented, resting her head on Anna's shoulder. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make it seem like I was blaming you. It's just one more reminder that my life isn't my own."

"I hate that you feel that way," Anna said sadly, then brightened up to try and lift Elsa's spirits. "Let's just forget about it, find something fun to do today."

Elsa swallowed back her vast reserve of confused and darkening feelings, smiling for her sister's sake.

Kristoff, who'd been tense with the awkwardness of the scene, breathed a sigh of relief and began attacking his breakfast with renewed vigor. He never had gotten used to the opulence of their meals, and it was fairly adorable — as adorable as his often quiet support and concern for Anna as well as Elsa.

"Let's have the ball, for appearance's sake anyway," Elsa decided, resigned. "I want the people to be happy, to feel I'm making an effort. And like you said, it'll be…fun." She didn't believe it for a moment.

"Oooh, a ball!" Anna exclaimed merrily. "Can we have a chocolate fountain?"

"Don't we always?" Elsa grinned.

Later that morning, when Elsa was in her private sitting room, the mail arrived, with a substantial pile of royal business and social or charitable invitations for her to attend to. On the bottom of the heap was a worn-looking bundle of papers wrapped with a frayed cord. Elsa immediately shoved the other letters aside and ripped into this one.

The first letter was a lengthy account, in Hans' hand, of all that had occurred since he had returned Adam to Arendelle. There had been another upheaval, orchestrated by Hans' father, who tried to release Anders and Lars to reinstate Anders as the head of state. Apparently, even from his sickbed, the King was well capable of causing considerable mischief — just as Hans had warned.

Hans, Nils, and Marit had been able to subdue the uprising of Anders' followers and protect Princess Nina's claim to the throne while reminding the King that Anders and Lars were murderous loose canons. However, since the King remained firm in his convictions as to who should rule in his stead during his continued illness, Hans was sure it would be a constant battle to keep order in the Southern Isles in the foreseeable future.

Adam and Marit were happily reunited, and she was settling into a new role as magical court advisor. Hans ended his letter by explaining that since Nina could call upon the help of Nils and Marit, as well as Elsa's own assistance from Arendelle as needed, he was now able to return and finish out his work sentence.

Segueing seamlessly from complete seriousness to dry wit as was his habit, Hans added a post-script for Elsa not to forget she had promised to eventually instill him in a job that would be to his liking, and that all the cows of Arendelle would be endlessly grateful to her for extricating him from farm work once his time had been served.

Shaking her head, her small smile tinged with sadness, Elsa marveled at Hans' sincerity and unwavering insistence on finishing his sentence when she obviously would have pretended to mysteriously forget his absence, had he decided to stay on in the Southern Isles. Without saying as much, he was proving something to her, and even to Anna, who would never notice or care that Hans was trying to be honorable.

There was another small slip of paper enclosed within the longer letter, and now Elsa gently unfolded it. The contents were only a few words, but they sent a thrill coursing through her that could not be denied. She ran her fingers over the words again and again, alone with the pounding of her heart, the quickening of her breath.

I miss you.

H.

Hans returned to his farm work in Arendelle with a powerful new motivation. Somehow, he'd managed to convince himself that if he could just show everyone that he was capable of keeping his word, working honestly and hard, it would bring him one step closer to what he could never touch. A dream that could never be more than a whisper of a hope despite his self-deceiving enthusiasm. The idea that somehow, he and Elsa could be together.

He couldn't help a bitter laugh at his own audacity in indulging such fantasies, as he labored day and night with nothing but haphazard scraps to eat, served up by the disgusted farmers who still thought of him as the Queen's would-be assassin. The irony was so painful that it almost became funny, but it was too real even for that.

On a windy afternoon a few weeks after his return, one of the farmer's children came ambling into the barn, scowling at Hans and whipping a folded envelope from his pocket. "This is for you, traitor," said the child. He was a boy of about twelve, and clearly a firm believer in everything his parents taught him. Again, Hans had no recourse. What other treatment could he expect? He'd known what he was signing up for by coming back.

But it cut him to the quick when the lad tossed the small, smooth letter into the mud. The ice had melted recently and created a vast moat-like reservoir of the stuff, and Hans had to scramble to retrieve the envelope before it was completely destroyed. The boy laughed harshly as he walked away.

After rolling his eyes at his bad luck and then rather desperately attempting to clear the mud from the letter, Hans sat on the fence outside the barn to peruse its contents.

Elsa had written, in an artificially formal manner, to invite him to the palace that afternoon. She said that she had determined, after careful thought, to waive the remainder of his labor sentence in favor of placing him in a job more suited to his talents. Elsa was careful to explain that her reason was based on the help he had rendered in their recent adventures in the Southern Isles, and Hans got the idea that the decision had been explained painstakingly to her council of advisors.

Hans would never admit that anything could make him giddy, but the letter did drive him into a state of excitement such as he had rarely felt. He quickly pulled himself together, cleaning up and changing into his best clothes, such as they were. Telling the farmers of his royal summons, he hastened to the palace.

After the cold, resentful glares of every guard and noble in the palace had been bestowed upon him during his journey through the gates and across the main hall to Elsa's throne room, Hans was again growing a bit exhausted with the sheer impact of this level of hatred the people of Arendelle had for him.

Hans' pride barely covered his brow-beaten feelings, but his spirits lifted when the door was opened to reveal Elsa, his Elsa, he thought, keeping the idea locked away in silence, where it was safe. He held himself back from rushing to her, holding her, speaking ardent words that wanted to tumble from his tongue. Instead, he bowed.

"Your majesty," Hans began, "I come in response to your summons."

"Ah yes," Elsa said, outwardly seeming for all the word as if she had half-remembered that he was even due to arrive, but the slight lift of her eyebrow and the tiny smile she let slip were meant for him, and him alone. "Prince Hans, allow me to introduce you to Adrian Geir." A middle-aged man with a dignified appearance and calm expression stepped forward to shake Hans' hand.

"Pleased to meet you, sir," Hans greeted him, surprised at even the mildest of civilities these days.

Adrian merely nodded, leaving Elsa to explain the introduction.

"Adrian is in charge of catering to all of the best social events here in Arendelle," Elsa explained, "And he has agreed to hire you, effective immediately."

"Ah," Hans replied slowly, cupping his chin in thought. "Your majesty, might I have the briefest of words?"

"Alright," Elsa agreed, "If you will excuse us, Adrian, I will send Prince Hans right out to you so that he can get acquainted with his new duties, within a few minutes."

Adrian merely bowed to Elsa and left swiftly.

"Catering?" Hans asked, "I thought you said it was a position more suited to my talents."

"Well," Elsa replied, perched on her throne with perfect posture, a regal elegance that came naturally to her, "It isn't farm work, is it? Your work sentence is at an end. You are free to make your living and make something of yourself."

"Thank you?" Hans smirked, folding his hands behind his back. "You do realize that every time some party-goer sees me restocking the cheese and crackers, they'll be horrified. I'm not exactly popular around here."

"Then show them," Elsa said eagerly, leaning forward. Her blue eyes sparkled with the clarity of her belief in this plan of hers. "Don't hide in the shadows, Hans. Come out into the light and let them see that you have changed, that instead of running away, you're here, facing the consequences for your actions and making an honest attempt at a second chance."

Cautiously, he came a little closer. "I think you're well aware that you could talk me into anything you wanted."

"So you'll try?" Elsa asked happily, practically jumping from her seat and meeting him in the middle of the room. They were so close, but no part of them touched. Hans was acutely aware of the torture of this proximity, and felt haunted by the question of whether she felt it too. Had she simply accepted that they were impossible, or did she see another path for them to take if he could prove his redemption?

Finally, he took her hands in his own for just a moment, touching her fingers to his heart. "I will try," he promised, "for you."

"You should do it for yourself," Elsa entreated, a slight touch of humor failing to mask her concern.

"You're right, Elsa," Hans admitted with a nod, making a bow before his departure. "But I'm going to do it for you.