A/N: I apologize for the slight glance at "present day" for Elsa before resuming the backstory. It is more or less a reminder of where we are at. I come from the school of thought that Rapunzel from Disney's Tangled is a maternal cousin to Elsa and Anna, and I also buy into the theory that the King and Queen of Arendelle had been lost at sea in a storm on their way to Rapunzel and Eugene's wedding.
"I can't do this, Anna. I – I can't." Elsa gasps around the pain in her chest, "I didn't know he felt the same, or that this horrible feeling when we're apart and loss of control I seem to have was love. I didn't know."
Anna huffs with a slight smile as she swats away a flurry of snowflakes.
"It's terrible…I wouldn't wish this upon my worst enemy," Elsa whispers desperately, trembling hands wringing together frantically.
"It is called FALLING IN LOVE for a reason, Elsa." Anna chuckles affectionately as she squeezes her shoulders reassuringly, "It's terrifying and unpredictable and you're helpless to stop it. But you signed the treaty. And I meant what I said earlier, I doubt France will yield."
Anna opens the door to the private ante-chamber to the ballroom with her free hand, ignoring Elsa's protests and revealing Prince Maurice waiting patiently, quite alone, a timid smile gracing his handsome features before realization seems to set regarding Elsa's current state. He quickly strides to the sisters, concern evident in his voice, French accent thick and wonderful, "Did you find him? Were you able to say what you needed to?"
Elsa simply stares at him, frost beginning to crackle and whine at her toes.
He raises an amused eyebrow at the ice as he runs a hand through dark blonde hair, "Ah – Anna, care to help translate?"
Anna sighs and presses a kiss to Elsa's cheek as she tries to hold herself together, looking sadly at Maurice.
Elsa manages, "I was able to speak to him. Thank you for your understanding, Maurice."
The room is silent and still, heavy with Elsa's grief as she thaws the frost and the flurries disappear. Elsa turns to Anna, wrapping her arms tightly around her as her eyes flutter closed, lids swollen and tired from her fallen tears.
The French Prince looks cautiously between the sisters as he clears his throat, "Of course. May I have a word with you, privately, My Queen?"
Anna detangles herself from Elsa's embrace as she whispers quietly, "Talk to him. I told you before he's got his own reasons for entering into the treaty with Arendelle – trust me. You're too amazing and stubborn to let something you want slip away. Surely something can be arranged."
With that Elsa kisses Anna's cheek, "Stubborn?"
"Yes, stubborn. And Ice Crazy."
Three years earlier…
Frère Jacques, frère Jacques,
Dormez-vous? Dormez-vous?
Sonnez les matines! Sonnez les matines!
Ding, dang, dong. Ding, dang, dong.
Elsa pauses her soft song as blue eyes blink sleepily with a lazy grin, and she revises her words.
Frère Kristoffer, frère Kristoffer,
Dormez-vous? Dormez-vous?
Sonnez les matines! Sonnez les matines!
Ding, dang, dong. Ding, dang, dong.
"I can't go to Corona," she sighs, "I'm going to miss you too much. You know that, right?"
His gurgled giggle brightens her smile as she raise her nephew out of his cradle and into her arms, "How can I possibly leave you?"
Chubby fingers clumsily grab the tip of her braid to shove into his mouth as he coos his reply.
"So tell your mother," she continues after she catches Anna out of the corner of her eye standing in the doorway of the nursery watching amused, "That I don't have to attend every summit. It's okay to skip a year."
"You'll never meet anyone held up in your gilded cage, you know."
Anna had recently come to the conclusion (along with others, but she's the only opinion that actually matters, being the Most Important One) that Elsa's time was up – she's proved herself as a successful and beloved Queen, capable of ruling independently with a sharp mind and kind heart. Elsa needs to get on with it. Get married and have babies. Watching her interact with Kristoffer only added fuel to the fire Anna was trying to light beneath her.
Elsa whispers softly to the babe, but loud enough for Anna to hear, "I don't need to meet anyone. I've met you. You love me. You will be my King when I'm old and grey." She presses her lips to his downy soft blonde fuzz atop his head and looks slyly at Anna, cuddling the babe closer to her.
Anna shakes her head fondly as she scolds with a smile, "Quit trying to involve him in your succession planning."
"Tell your mother that you love me, and you'd make wise and fair King one day."
"I can't believe you woke up my sleeping babe to - wait." Anna says suspiciously, "No. You wouldn't."
Elsa blinks innocently, "He wants to be King of Arendelle one day. He just told me so. I can die the Virgin Queen quite happily now, knowing my Kingdom has an heir."
Her gaze shifts to Elsa's eyes, mockingly horrified, "You're asking an angel to deliver the devil's words?"
Doing her best to look offended Elsa scoffs, "No, I'm not." Elsa manages to suppress her giggle as she adds, "And I woke him up because I had to say good-bye."
Anna laughs as she comes beside Elsa, wrapping her arms around her as she holds the babe, "So you're going?" she asks skeptically. She shifts to take Kristoffer from Elsa's arms with a questioning glance.
Elsa sighs dramatically as she relinquishes her nephew, "I suppose. The Flag ship IS prepared and waiting for me."
"Literally. There is an impatient Captain standing in the hallway who asked me to 'encourage' you to come along a bit more quickly."
Elsa brushes tender fingers over the babe's round head, ignoring Anna's remark about keeping an entire ship waiting. "I'm going to the summit to ensure that Arendelle is an active participant in this region's coalition supporting peace. I'm not going with hopes of meeting Prince Charming, you know." Elsa kisses Kristoffer's cheek, "Because he's right here."
Anna hums her response before hitching an eyebrow, "No, you're likely going with hopes of Prince Preferable attending, just so you can get yourself into trouble. Although," she pauses as her brow furrows, "I've noticed you haven't received any letters from him since the last summit."
Elsa had foolishly hoped for a letter to arrive prior to the annual summit, instead she found herself disappointed and slightly cross.
Elsa says carefully as she watches Anna smiling widely at the babe, "I suspect his Queen Mother is interfering with our correspondence for some reason. What the reason is, I have no idea."
Anna mutters under her breath something to the effect of, "Because she's got half a brain and is trying to keep Arendelle out of any more mess with the man."
Elsa huffs a laugh as she continues, "You do realize that I have no idea if Admiral Westergård will even be at the summit."
They stand in silence, watching Kristoffer reposition Elsa's braid in his other hand before shoving it back between his gummy smile.
Anna makes a face, "Don't let Kristoffer chew on your hair."
Elsa smiles innocently as she coos at the babe, "How can I deny him? He's my Little Prince Charming."
"For goodness sakes, give him an iced teething ring to chew on."
Elsa rolls her eyes and she conjures an iced ring to trade the babe for the tip of her tied hair, "My hair is clean and he has no teeth yet, so I fail to see what the issue is."
Anna harrumphs, "I'm his Lady Mother and I say he shouldn't."
"Ah," Elsa giggles, "so you're meddling?"
The glare from Anna is hard and disapproving. She sighs as she studies Elsa for long moments, lips pressing together firmly. "Promise you'll behave yourself. Okay?" Anna says sternly, her implication crystal clear as she looks pointedly at her, a small twist of her lips pulling as she adds, "And feel free to bring home a suitor to court you properly. Stop being so stubborn."
"You're meddling…" Elsa says sing-song with a roll her eyes. "I promise to behave myself and no - the Virgin Snow Queen has no intention of bringing home a suitor. So you can go ahead and dispel that rumor circulating among the courtiers while I'm gone," she sighs as she kisses Anna on the cheek. "But I'll see if I can convince Rapunzel to come."
Anna's eyes light up, "Deal."
Fierce weather meets the Arendelle Flag Ship during the transit, foul winds and choppy seas making the transit treacherous and slow due to an unusually late winter storm. Anxiety and panic swirl and threaten to consume the frightened Queen most nights, making sleep elusive during her journey – what little rest she finds is fraught by terrible images of sinking ships and frozen sailors as she desperately tries to keep her own ice under control.
(Her mind keeps going to the solemn hilltop back in Arendelle where large granite slabs stand erected to memorialize the death of her parents, lost forever in this very stretch of sea).
The storm delays her arrival to the summit hosted by Corona by almost a week, causing her to miss the opening gala and first session of meetings. It was as she finally disembarked the vessel at the docks in sunny Corona that she noted with relief that one, the land was dry and firm and warm, and two, Hans' banner was flying upon one of the Southern Isles warships -a larger and somewhat more imposing beast of a ship than what he was commanding the last she saw of him. She realized with irritation that her nerves were fluttering excitedly with her observation, tingles of euphoria curling and teasing her. She fears it may not bode well for helping her keep her promise to Anna.
Oh figs.
It was after she was greeted and shown to her guest chambers by Princess Rapunzel (Oh cousin, I was terrified something terrible had happened to you – I feared Anna would never forgive Corona after the sea between us claimed every member of her family!), and she sunk into a warm bath that she tried to allow herself to finally relax for the first time in a week - tension washing away with the fragrant oil and soft white bubbles. Her eyes drifted closed as her mind wandered (still to crashing waves and wooden ships), the water cooling as time passed. She found herself dozing off slightly before coming to, realizing she was likely to fall asleep and drown herself in the bath if she wasn't careful.
There was the feast to prepare for that Gerda insisted she skip and rest (Elsa refused), so she begrudgingly emerged from the bath to allow the handmaidens to assist her, listening quietly to their soft chatter and gossip and praying for Hans' name to be spoken.
Or not.
Actually.
After the suspicious glances Elsa received from her sailors and accompanying staff and council during the winter storm, she suspects there were rumors flying that she was to blame for the winter weather while at sea. Embarrassment and frustration accompany her decision that a change in wardrobe is needed for the next few days and she selects a gown from one of the trunks brought up to her rooms. Because there are in fact times that she needs to remind others that she is a person, not the embodiment of an ethereal winter spirit. So Elsa choses something traditional, all pale pink fabric and lace with rosemaling embroidery along the hem and entirely un-magical for the evening. She smooths her hands down the front of the bodice hating the way she looks before finally being ready to make her way down the hall. Although in somewhat of a daze with her head lowered and lost in thought, her mind clears in a heartbeat when his voice wraps itself around her.
Hans is at the end of the hall, not at all dressed for a feast, but rather he's in his sea uniform – a bag at his feet and a leather-bound book of charts in his hand, speaking to another officer (confirming receipt of some report) before handing the other officer the book of charts and dismissing him. Hans' hair has been trimmed into similar style with sideburns groomed as he wore years ago at her coronation, making him look so young. She can't help but think how handsome he looks, the perfect mix of warrior and Prince.
Oh figs…
He turns at the slight sound her shoes make as she approaches him and their eyes lock. She watches his startled pleasure mix with grave concern as a sigh of relief escapes him, the reflex of his smile quickly pulling to a frown.
"Admiral Westergård," she murmurs helplessly as he studies her intently, his gaze roaming her figure and she's suddenly extremely self-conscious of the awful pink gown.
He stops before her, too close but too far away, really.
He replies breathlessly, "You made it."
"Yes."
He takes her hand into his as he steps closer (all at once much worse and far better), "I was readying a ship to look for you when I received word the delegation from Arendelle had finally arrived. My men are truly relieved not to have to brave a winter storm to search the sea for Arendelle's Snow Queen." He smiles conspiratorially, "However, I heard that my sanity was being called into question and I thoroughly upset my Mother. So I feel it would have absolutely been worth it to find you."
He's not wearing any gloves. His hands are bare as they envelop hers…
Elsa only half hears him as she stares with wide eyes and a blush blooming - her mind cracked and worthless and unable to process anything but the heat radiating from his bare hands that hold hers, fire racing through her overwhelmed by the rough texture of his palms under hers.
Elsa blinks as she stares, the image of his bare flesh and hers meeting together searing itself to her memory and sparking tiny tendrils of inappropriate fantasies. They stand, her hand in his for long moments before he seems to realize what he's done and he grins knowingly, eyes dark with promises of delight and scandal.
She won't allow him to pull that stunt with her.
But her broken mind forgets that, and she can't help the affectionate smile that shines, "You were going after me?"
"Of course."
Her tongue darts out to wet her lips, triggering his eyes to track the movement and darken further. Her words tumble without thought, "You like living dangerously, don't you? Chasing after Evil Queens and trying to get yourself killed?"
He's already raised her hand to his lips when he smirks, glancing at her though thick lashes as he murmurs before pressing tender lips to the back of her hand, "It wouldn't be the first time, now would it? Going head first into a storm where you are most certainly to be found? And I dare say, it's likely not the last."
Her lips quirk as her eyebrow cocks, her mind finally catching up.
There is a fabulous audience of guards, handmaidens, and scattered dignitaries who have all stopped to watch their interaction. She groans embarrassed as she hisses quietly, "You can let go of my hand now, Hans."
He chuckles, but rather than release her, he folds her into his arm and proceeds to escort her back towards her chambers, "You needn't bother with the feast tonight. You're to be seated beside my Mother, and I would advise a restful night's sleep before conversing with her."
She's here, too?
Why?
Instead she says, "I think I can make that decision for myself."
It is actually wonderful advice he offers, and honestly she'd be horrified to have to sit beside the woman all evening long in her current mindless state – her common sense has checked out completely and she'd likely get herself into trouble. So she stops before her door, expression flat and bored, "I fear I am too fatigued from my journey to attend the festivities tonight. If you would please offer my sincerest apologies to the King and Queen of Corona, I would be ever so grateful."
Hans smiles warmly, "Of course, Your Grace."
She can't help but shake her head fondly in response, smile pulling.
"If I may be so presumptuous, I'll also arrange for a dinner tray to be delivered – you must eat something."
"Thank you."
He watches her for a moment before confusion sets and his head tilts slightly, "What are you wearing?"
"It's traditional," she says with humor, shoulders shrugging as her fingers smooth over the fabric of the skirt and looking up at him coyly.
"It's beautiful," he says thoughtfully before adding, "But it's not you. I prefer your icy gowns."
"True." She stares into his eyes silently before whispering, "Thank you."
His eyebrows raise questioning.
"Thank you for coming after me."
Hans hums at her clarification.
"And for your honesty." He smirks as she adds, "Or rather, what I presume is your honesty. The gown is…not me."
She links her fingers together before her and drops her chin as she confesses, "I – I. I have missed you, Hans. I missed your letters."
"Me too."
She thinks of her darling nephew back home, her little French song as she said good-bye and she sighs, "Bonne nuit, Héroïque Prince."
His grin is playful as he turns to leave before she can dismiss him, "Bonne nuit, ma Malveillant Reine."