a.n. I should probably start this as a new story, but, heck, I just don't feel like it.

...

Chapter One

Hans shivered in his bunk. In the past two weeks, he and his crew had been dodging, well... everyone. The, ahem, 'incident' on the royal yacht had not gone unnoticed. You don't just attack a queen! So, now everyone wanted to know who did what and why. So, it was just easier to disappear.

Hans rose with the moon. Enough. They had been hiding out for too long. His men were tired, and thirsty and hungry. They would follow him to their graves if need be, but honestly, he couldn't stand being ignorant of what was going on out there.

And by 'out there', he, of course, meant with the girls. Even seeing Anna would be almost pleasant. He told his crew to dock somewhere out-of-the-way. The prince then took a row boat and headed home.

Arrendelle.

It was weird to him to think of it as home. But really, it was the only place he felt like he belonged. The residents had a different opinion, but did that matter to him? Barely.

Hans set down by the mine. He exited the boat and walked to the hole in the ground where he'd saved Elsa. This was where he'd realized his true purpose in life; to serve the greater good. He wasn't Prince Charming. Elsa was not the kind of girl who wanted to be swept off her feet and taken to a castle. She needed a friend, and not much else.

He'd saved Anna that day too. Mostly by accident. It's not like she was high on his list of priorities. The fact that she'd tossed him off a cliff had something to do with that.

Then Sophia... his frozen heart ached to feel for her. There wasn't a word for the warmth she brought him. She wasn't like him or his brothers. Or even fearful Sarah. She was something new, beautiful, and unique, and, tragically, did not hear that enough.

Hans walked up the beach to his, or rather, Captain Black's, house. He sighed as he walked up the rickety porch and opened the door. It was disgusting here. And he hated it. It smelled like booze, and creatures crawled across the walls. But it was the last place anyone would look for him.

He sighed, thinking about Gunther and Archer. His brothers must be very confused right now. They thought they were cleaning up one mess and got themselves involved in another.

The prince took off one shoe, then another. At least he had somewhere that wasn't a ship. He could reconnect with his crew at-

...

...

...shing.

Hans' sword was out before he even thought about it. It pointed towards the door. Voices. Male. Two. Boots. Military. No, wait, three people.

His heart pounded noisily as he readied himself for another fight. A knock came at the door, forceful. He did nothing. The voices were confused now, relaying orders. Hans crouched behind the counter, noting each entrance/exit. He would fight his way out, go to the castle, get Sophia, relocate her somewhere slightly safer. Kill his brothers...

whuu-iiip!

His sword practically moved of its own accord to the corner where a soft wind blew in an open hole. Hans stared, waiting for the threat to make itself known.

No threat emerged.

Elsa...?

The most beautiful queen in the world stepped softly from the shadows without a word, her soft snow dress (a new design, he noted) curling around her as she walked. His sword fell as his head bowed.

She stopped out of arms' reach. Her guards had been watching the house and the mine both, trying to figure out who this Black man was. He was supposed to be Sophia's step-father, a co-conspirator of Hans'. Now, with Hans dead and Sophia on the chopping block, who was his boss?

...that wasn't the only reason she was here. This man... had been there the night she had been in that death trap. Her memories were vague, but why would he leave her to die, then drag her out and resuscitate her?

"Who are you?"

Hans remained silent. Elsa sighed.

"Very well, keep your secrets."

He smirked. The queen felt a torrent of emotions running her over. Was this the man who had worked so hard to trap her in the mines? Captain Black had been seen about town with some of his crew recruiting workers for some 'out-of-towners' who were renovating the salt mines. Yet his lips were the ones from her dreams, breathing life back into her body. Had he resuscitated her just to kill her again? Then there were the assassins. A review of his ship showed it likely was the one that had transported the killers into Arrendelle waters where they hijacked a ship and attacked the royal yacht. Yet he had intervened again, saving her and Sophia.

"My apologies, madam," he rasped, trying to disguise himself. (Though the dehydration did that well enough) "I've not offered you a glass."

"That's quite alright, I wouldn't know what to do with it," Elsa saw how bad the living space was, and had no desire to imbibe anything, "What's this?" She asked.

Hans inwardly kicked himself for leaving something so out-of-place in open space. A single white queen sat on his mantle, a reminder of what he could never win; her heart. Elsa fingered the piece, running her hands over the smooth bumps.

"You play?"

Hans bumbled from side to side to give off the impression he did not play much. But his desire to play overwhelmed him. He hadn't had a good match in such a long time! Elsa waved her hand and a chess board appeared.

"Impressive," He muttered. A small chuckle escaped his throat when he realized that Elsa had assigned herself as white. Of course.

click.

Her king's pawn moved forward, allowing her queen and bishop ready access to the board. Although, in theory, there are infinite numbers of ways any given chess match may go, there is a limited number of moves with which any given match may begin.

In essence, there is a counter to every beginning move, so Hans immediately countered without even having to think about it. Of course, Elsa saw his counter, and knew it meant that he'd played enough to know the immediate counter to her opener, so she employed the counter to the counter.

This continued for two more moves.

Then they set the pattern for their game. Elsa played defensively. Hans sacrificed pieces like they were nothing. Their styles clashed, ideologies matching up poorly.

And they both knew it.

For Elsa, it was bittersweet. Her mother had taught her, patient hours of mother-daughter time that they could spend without worrying about it; her curse, her struggle. Her mom had chastised her gently, but often about playing with more aggression. For the first time ever, she didn't wonder if the deceased queen hadn't meant something a bit more personal.

For Hans, it was just plain bitter. Like Elsa, he had learned from his family. His father insisted each of his sons learn the subtle art of chess. They had spent hours and hours and hours playing and replaying and criticizing every match. Each move was carefully weighted, each sacrifice and gain considered in the course. It had taken him years to learn how each piece could be aligned. How to see his opponent.

Hans slammed his pawn down on Elsa's queen. He smirked viciously. For all her defense, she had just lost her most powerful piece. In five moves, he figured he'd have in her check.

Within three, though, she announced, "I'd like a queen." She exchanged the pawn she'd snuck down the board for a queen. Hans swore under his breath. He'd gotten blinded by the small victory, he might lose the war.

"Check," He announced, two moves later.

"Castling." She muttered. He scoffed.

"You can't castle out of check!"

She looked up with those penetrating eyes, "Oh?!"

For a second neither of them said anything. She was queen, she made the rules. Hans let out a weary sigh.

"Fine." He was used to his brothers ignoring rules that didn't suit them.

The queen smiled happily at this, moving her pieces about. But the two were too evenly matched. They ended up in a stalemate of sorts.

Hans groaned, he hated not winning, and stalemate was almost as bad. Elsa had never tied before. Ever. She either won, or lost. Tying this strange man in a stalemate hadn't even entered into her equation. Had the evening progressed, she, perhaps could have check-mated him, but her guards, afraid that they had not seen the queen for over an hour, burst through the door, wrestling him to the ground, and upsetting the pieces on the board.

Elsa let out a sigh, vanishing the pieces, "Let him up." When her men did not immediately obey, she raised her voice to the 'I am serious, do not anger your queen' tone, "I said; let him up!"

Hans scrambled backwards.

"I have something for you," Elsa announced, "I have need of a... steam trunk."

"A special?" He asked, mystified she knew what it was.

"...yes. I need something delivered to the Southern Isles."

Hans already knew what, or rather, who, it was; Sophia. She had to go there to be officially recognized as heir to the throne. And take Archer's place. If Elsa set sail on the yacht, she would be in as grave a danger as when she'd been out a few days ago.

"...I agree." He bowed his head. Elsa nodded then left. Hans climbed into his crumbled bed, put the blankets over his head, and prayed that someday he wouldn't have to spend his time tricking his way to the woman he loved.