Notes:

As ever, thank you for you ludicrously kind feedback.

I felt like there was a bit of confusion about what Hans was up to last chapter - so this chapter has got a bit of schemey-schemey thought process stuff to flesh that out a bit.

I'm going to be on holiday next week (Cuba!) so I won't be updating - I'll spam a few chapters this weekend to make up for it.

BFM x


Anna twirled a lock of hair around her finger absent-mindedly, watching the architect – Master Haugen – have stern words with the team of stone masons. She had a pencil behind her ear and a pile of notes clutched in her arms. Olaf bounced beside her, tugging at her skirt to ask what some of the architect's words meant. Anna answered best she could, but she was very quiet and hardly taking in a word of what Master Haugen was actually saying to the assembled workmen about the construction of the Children's Home.

Haugen, on the other hand, was rather grateful for this unusual respite. He had truly appreciated the Queen's wonderfully succinct and clear manner – her sister's enthusiastic barrage of questions and random tangents into lengthy anecdotes were another matter.

"Any questions about the plans?"

There were shrugs and shaken heads from the workmen.

"Excellent. Get to work."

The workers dispersed.

Haugen cautiously approached the princess.

"My lady?"

Anna jumped. "Oh, hi, sorry, Master Haugen. Everything ok?"

"Yes, my lady. The masons have just been put to work. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"What's a foundation?"

Haugen blinked down at the little snowman. He wasn't sure whether to address his answer to Anna or her… companion.

"A foundation is the very bottom bit of the wall, Olaf," Anna explained patiently. "And, no, thank you, Master Haugen. That's everything. Thank you so much for your help today."

He bowed and left as quickly as strolling would allow.

Anna sighed. There must be more she could do.

"Hey."

Haugen and the workers clearly had it all under control but maybe she could be a foreman, or something? Maybe a morale-booster?

"Anna?"

Or maybe more canvassing. Promoting the existence of the children's home would mean it would be used – as well as show that Elsa was helping improve Arendelle for everyone.

"Um, Anna?"

Or maybe see if Elsa needed any help back at the castle. She chewed the end of her pencil distractedly.

"Anna?"

Kristoff appeared in front of her. She jumped.

"Kristoff! Hi!"

"You ok? I said hi about three times."

"Anna's kinda distracted today," Olaf explained helpfully.

"Sorry. In a whole other world." Anna smiled. "What're you doing here?"

He shrugged. "I finished at the guild for the day, and I thought I might find you here."

"Oh. Of course. Great."

Kristoff thought he heard something slightly strained in her tone – but he could just be imagining it. He looked at the workers, calling to each other, layering brick and mortar. Humorously: "I still can't believe you've actually organised this."

Anna felt a dull irritation. "You sound like Elsa. I'm not completely useless."

"I never said you were." Slightly taken aback by her defensive tone, he gently nudged her arm. "It looks great, Anna."

"Thank you. Hopefully."She replied, again slightly vacant, staring unseeingly at the bricklayers.

They stood quietly for a second.

Kristoff had an idea what might be distracting her.

"Is – did Elsa get her letter about Hans?"

Anna looked up at him in alarm.

"No. I mean, yes. I mean – she did, but – yes."

She looked back to the bricklayers.

Kristoff was confused.

He rubbed the back of his head. He was very conscious of Olaf, staring up, his eyes switching between the two of them.

"Everything ok?"

"Everything's fine." She said it too quickly. "I mean – there's stuff, but – don't worry about it."

Olaf went to speak but Anna silenced him with a stern look.

Kristoff frowned.

"You sure?"

"Yeah. It's nothing." She almost shook herself and smiled up at him too broadly. "I think I'm pretty much done here for the day – shall we – let's do something."

"Ok." He hesitated. Maybe – there was more going on. He could tell. But she didn't want to talk about it, and Olaf was there, third-wheeling like nobody's business, and – "Listen, um, it's ok, I've got loads of stuff to do if you – "

"Oh – of course, sorry, I don't want to get in the way, or – "

"Nonono, you're never in the way, but, um, you don't have to – "

"Oh, no, really – unless you don't want to – I'd love to do something."

She smiled. Tried to push worries and thoughts that weren't him from her head.

"Ok then. Lead the way."


That evening Kristoff walked Anna to the castle, but did not stay for dinner.

When he got to the stables to collect Sven, he briefly put his forehead to the post of the stall.

What the hell was going on?

"Hey you. We're not staying here tonight. Come on."

Sven looked dismayed.

"Don't give me that. We're going to the guildhouse."

Sven, who had become all too comfortable in his habitual royal stall, made a great show of getting to his feet and following Kristoff to the door.

"Why can't we stay at the castle?"

"Because. Anna needs some space."

Sven's ears sat asymmetrically in confusion.

"I know. I'm not really sure what's going on either."

They trudged out the Gates and began the long journey across the Great Road. Though it was almost eight o'clock, the sun showed only slight signs of familiarity with the horizon. The lazy light glanced off the fjord.

"Elsa got a letter about Hans. I don't know what it said, but Anna's been acting weird all afternoon."

"What do you mean weird?"

"That," Kristoff replied to himself, "is a good question."

Sven turned his huge brown eyes to the frowning man beside him, clearly awaiting an answer.

"You know how she's so… bouncy?"

This was not the right word, but Sven knew what he meant. Anna moved without thought, careless and clumsy, but with a kind of momentum and fluidity.

Kristoff struggled to assemble his thoughts. Words.

"She wasn't today. She was kind of… tense."

"She's allowed to be tense!"

"I know. But I just get the feeling it's to do with this letter. I don't know." Kristoff shrugged. "I don't want to talk about it."

"But you should talk about it!"

Kristoff glared. "You are not helpful."

Sven nudged him with an imperative nose.

"I know, I know. I'm just worrying over nothing is all. Probably."

Sven stuck his snuffley nose in Kristoff's ear and licked his face with a long, abrasive tongue and an unending capacity for affection. Kristoff wrinkled his own nose and gave him a shove.

"Get off. Come on," he grabbed the reindeer's horns as Sven dived in again for an ear lick, "You're making a scene. I can't take you anywhere…"

Several scenes and a fair amount of antler-wrestling later, they got to the guildhouse. Sven lay like a martyr in the hay – earning him an eye-rolling – and Kristoff got some food. Once plonked in front of him however, it remained untouched as he stared at the blank boards of the wall, frowning.

Sven was right and he should talk about it – but how did a conversation like that even go?

Hey Anna, you moved funny today. Are you all right?

Yeah, probably not the best approach.

Kristoff was a man of instinct. But he was also a man of facts. You had a gut instinct about whether you could scale that particular mountain, but you needed the facts to be safe: the weather, how much rope you had, the strength of your pickaxes…

His gut told him Hans was bad news. But the facts were more complicated. The only conclusion he'd really been able to draw was that Hans and Anna were – weird.

He pushed some food about his plate, thinking.

He tried to fit the facts into some kind of shape.

They were engaged.

Right. Ok. But after knowing each other, what, a day? Anna was reckless – impulsive, idealistic, irresponsible – so in a way, the engagement didn't mean a thing. That was Anna all over. Right?

She thought it was true love.

Ok, well that was something. How powerful was the idea of love? Did it lose its power when the tools of illusion were revealed?

He left Anna to die. He tried to kill Elsa.

He was cruel – unusually cruel. People were always out to cheat you, but that kind of manipulation – it was worse than just trying to overcharge you for mountaineering tools or sabotage the quality of your ice delivery. When he was little, Kristoff had been kicked out of a fair few barns and taken a fair beatings from other street kids over scraps of food, but none of them had ever pretended they had anything other than feelings of contempt for him. It would be like… it would be the Trolls taking him in only to… turn him into soup, or something.

Kristoff wasn't great at metaphors.

Hans had told Anna he had never loved her. And that had to hurt. A lot.

But how much?

Kristoff finally began picking at his food.

He has – ten? Thirteen? – older brothers. He's a prince.

That didn't really mean much. Kristoff had way more brothers than that – adoptively speaking. Being a prince just elevated Hans' jerk-dom to a more elite level.

He'd abused a position of power though, and Kristoff – having only ever worked for himself, and having lived his whole life indebted to random acts of kindness from those more fortunate than him – felt his blood boil at this.

He angrily stabbed at his food for a bit, trying to just focus on the facts.

Anna came to find me on the fjord. Anna kissed me. Anna asked me to say.

Elsa had dug up some ancient old guildmaster title so he could stay, for crying out loud – that had to mean something, right?

Maybe she did love Hans. Does love Hans.

Did you think of that?

This thought rose unbidden to his mind, and once there, he couldn't shake it.

Just because neither he nor Elsa nor… anyone that he could think of had ever experienced love at first sight – did that mean it didn't exist?

But she came looking for you –

But she came back to him.

Kristoff was a simple man, of simple means – and not for the first time, he wondered how his life had got so suddenly complicated.


Hans would be lying if he said he hadn't constructed at least a vague form of this plan on that sickening, buffeting sail from Arendelle.

But honestly, he hadn't imagined it would go so well. He'd envisioned a sliver of understanding – at a push some compassion. It'd been more of a last ditch attempt to avoid being disowned or imprisoned, than a viable get-out card.

But here he was, in his own chambers, in his own clothes, clean, calm, still completely uncharged and casting confusion over the entire royal household.

He couldn't have planned it better.

Hans stretched leisurely and pondered the blank page before him.

He had to be sure to keep all the facts straight. There could be no slip-ups here.

Casting doubt on Elsa's word had been easy: magic was, overwhelmingly, something to be afraid of, and those who wielded it were not to be trusted. Now the seed had been sown, he was sure it would take root and nothing she said would be taken at face value – including her flat-out rejection of the engagement.

To add to that, it was honestly just too convenient that he and Anna had been alone when he'd revealed his motivations. She was the only witness and – honestly – she was vacuous at best. Scatty, impressionable, foolish – how hard would it be to convince people she'd dreamt the whole thing? How hard would it be to convince her?

Easy.

Hans considered for a moment before dipping his quill and penning his next construct.