In the midst of the revelry and celebrations that followed after the defeat of the witch, Anna stared silently at all of them. His family. None of them really cared that Hans was gone. Oh sure, they acted sorry, briefly putting on sorrowful expressions in front of Anna, but Anna could see through the lies.
Now they sang his praises, toting him a hero. Vilhelm had even proclaimed they erect a bronze statue in Hans's honour, but none really mourned their youngest brother's death. Not really. They just didn't know how. They had always been a broken family with no sibling affection or comradery. It wasn't fair to expect it from them now, but Anna sort of did anyway.
It sickened Anna, and she needed to get away from here. Away from all the pretending and posturing. Away from the merriment and celebrating that had overshadowed what should have been a mourning period for a family member.
Liesel had been right, Anna wouldn't be able to save all thirteen of the Westergaards. Even with the curse lifted, they were still what they were. Still who they had been. Only now, they had the potential to change. The potential to evaluate themselves and their actions and become better people.
At least she had seen hope with Vilhelm. The new Southern Isles king looked at his wife and daughter as though he was seeing something truly wonderful for the first time in his entire life.
Thanks to Elsa. Thanks to Grete. Thanks to Hans. Thanks to Anna.
But Anna's role in this whole debacle had come to an end.
She didn't feel like a hero, nor did she enjoy being lauded as one. She had paid a terrible price to free these people who she felt were ultimately unworthy of the gift they had been given. She looked over at Grete, standing beside her husband as he cuddled the baby girl in his arms, cooing softly, but even that wasn't enough to make Anna smile.
"See?" Elsa said quietly, coming up behind her and placing a hand on Anna's shoulder. "It wasn't all for nothing. I know you think they don't deserve his sacrifice, but just look at Vilhelm with his daughter and Grete. He and Grete had been trying to conceive for over a decade, but he's always been standoffish and cold. Now look at him, he's smitten. I don't think he'd be like that if you hadn't helped him. They may never fall in love, but I think maybe now they can be good friends, and good parents."
Anna could barely acknowledge her sister's words. "I think I just want some time alone. Everyone is too…happy. No one feels his loss at all."
"Are you sure?" Elsa asked, the strain of worry clear on her face. "It doesn't feel right to leave you alone—"
"I need some quiet time to gather my own thoughts. Please, Elsa. This whole thing is just…draining."
Elsa sighed, and it was obvious that she wasn't keen to leave Anna alone. "The palace gallery is a few doors down, and it's lovely." She dipped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Not as lovely as ours, but I know galleries help you clear your head. No one will bother you there."
Anna gave a small smile for Elsa's benefit. "I think I will go tour the gallery. Thanks."
The gallery was a welcomed silence for Anna, escaping the cacophony of celebrating throughout the rest of the palace.
She wandered the empty gallery aimlessly. Anna desperately missed the familiar paintings at home. Whenever Anna needed to clear her head and find peace, she always sought out Arendelle's gallery. She knew each and every piece back home by heart. Each painting a comfort to her; often the only companions she'd had growing up. She longed to be back home where she felt safe and assured, surrounded in the tranquility of her own spaces.
It was hard to find comfort or peace of mind in the unfamiliar gallery. She recognized none of the works, none of the people depicted. It was the best the Southern Isles could offer her, and she would make do. She always did. It was why she was here now, roaming the vast, lonely room.
The Southern Isles' gallery was far more extensive than her own, she noted silently. It appeared less used as well, judging by the way the room was only partially lit. The back disappeared into near blackness, and if Anna decided to venture that far back into the room, she'd need to take a lamp with her. It was unlikely that if the gallery was that popular half of it would be unlit. She surmised that at least she would not be disturbed here for awhile.
Good.
Anna needed the quiet and the time to think of Hans. Of what her life could have been with him, and what it was now.
Never one to sit still while she thought, she began to pace the room, pausing every so often at any painting that caught her eye. Looking for solace in the brush strokes of the faces of the strangers who hung on the walls. When she reached the Westergaard family portraits, she almost turned around, unsure if she could bear looking at Hans's portrait, but at the same time, wanting desperately to find him on the wall.
But when she looked up at the first painting, all thoughts of finding Hans's portrait were lost. She let out an involuntary gasp as she stared at the imposing, bearded figure in the painting before her. It was Hans, only it wasn't. The colouring was all wrong. Hans didn't have ink black hair like his brothers, and his eyes were green, not a cold, unyielding, slate grey. And he didn't wear a beard either. Yet the massive full-bodied portrait was unmistakeably Hans, right from the natural part of his hair down to his impossibly long, lithe legs.
Confused, Anna looked to the little brass name plate, frowning at the old date and reading aloud to herself, "His Royal Majesty, King Stieg, Aged twenty-four."
Not Hans, but the former king when he'd been a young man.
Hans's father.
Whatever had made Hans distinctly different in looks from his mother and siblings, had made him a dead ringer for his father. They were almost identical, save for their colouring.
Anna looked back up at the portrait of King Stieg. He stood tall and regal, his facial expression stern. His impeccably groomed beard and slate grey eyes made the expression on his face almost menacing. Cruel, even.
'I hate beards, and I'll never wear one on purpose.'
Hans had never told her why he hated wearing a beard. Standing in front of his father's portrait, she now knew why.
He hadn't wanted to look anything like his father.
It must have been difficult for Hans growing up and looking so much like his father, but never coming close to measuring up to the imposing status of the man. Looking at King Stieg's portrait, Anna finally understood why Hans had felt he needed to be king so badly. Why the Arendelle crown had been worth more to him than her a year ago. He'd wanted his father's affection and approval. Something, she imagined, he could only achieve with a crown and a kingdom.
"Such a poor portrait," a voice behind her spoke.
Anna turned to see the Queen Dowager walking towards her.
"Your Majesty." Anna curtseyed stiffly and only out of protocol.
The Queen Dowager fanned herself with a lace fan. "Ah, yes, I know you. You're the plain, unremarkable sister with the poor manners from Arendelle."
"Princess Anna," Anna introduced as politely as she could, keeping her comments to herself. It seemed that even with her children restored to her, the Queen Dowager was still a hateful, unpleasant woman.
"I often enjoy a stroll through the gallery," the Queen Dowager said, holding out her arm for Anna to take. "I suppose you will have to do for company."
Anna gave a tight smile, and took the woman's arm, though it was the very last thing Anna wanted to do. "It would be my pleasure, Your Majesty."
"My portraits are this way." The Queen Dowager steered Anna away from the portrait of King Stieg. "I always took a much better portrait than him."
"Hans looked just like him," Anna commented, wishing she could leave the gallery. The place brought no comfort to her at all now that she was stuck here with the Queen Dowager.
The Queen Dowager tsked. "The only good thing about that one."
Anna's lip curled at the woman's awful words about Hans, but remained silent.
"No one could accuse me of straying and that he was a bastard." The Queen Dowager huffed. "Stieg had no choice but to accept him as his own. Couldn't throw me out into the cold, couldn't put all the blame on me when that little imp looked just like him." She chortled to herself, an awful, cruel sound. "What an absolute delight it was when the one that looked so much like him turned out to be talentless—an utter disappointment. I never let Stieg forget it either. Never failed to find an opportunity to throw that in his arrogant face!"
Anna nearly tripped on her skirts at the Queen Dowager's words. That couldn't be right. Hans's parents had loved each other. They had to have for Hans to have broken the curse surrounding the trolls. "But I thought you two loved each other."
"Love?" The Queen Dowager scoffed at the word. "I despised that man right up until the day he died. Why, I'd have danced on his grave if I could have."
Anna stared at her in shock. If that was true, then the initial curse hadn't been lifted, and Hans hadn't been the Westergaard meant to restore the trolls. Which meant Hans had died in vain. They'd gotten it wrong, and Hans had died because of it. She felt faint. She needed air, suddenly the vast gallery was stifling. The man she loved had sacrificed himself, and it had been for naught.
The Queen Dowager laughed loudly; the awful gurgling sound filled the room, echoing to the rafters, still delighting in shocking Anna. "My dear girl, nobody loves a Westergaard."
That did it.
Anna found her anger hiding amongst her shock and sorrow.
"I'm in love with a Westergaard," she retorted fiercely. And she always would be, even if Hans was gone.
"Well, you shouldn't be," the Queen Dowager replied flippantly with her hideous chortle still on her lips.
Anna straightened up, sick of hearing that phrase even if it wasn't intentional, and sick of this woman's horrid company. She understood that the Westergaards had been cursed, their line tainted through generations, but the Queen Dowager had married into the family. This woman was awful without the benefit of a curse, and it sickened Anna.
"So I've been told," she answered, her anger quickly rising. "It still doesn't change the facts. I love Hans and he loved me. And—" Anna stopped in mid sentence, eyes widening, and repeating her words back to herself in her head. Then again slowly.
I love Hans…and he loved me.
'Only a Westergaard born of love brought to the glade when the sun is at its highest can restore the trolls.'
I love Hans and he loved me.
'So how do I find this Westergaard?' she had asked Liesel.
'You don't need to find them. Searching is not your part to play.'
I love Hans and he loved me.
"Oh my God." Anna felt weak in the knees. She really needed to sit down, needed to breathe. She raked her hands through her hair. "It was never Hans that was meant to restore the trolls. It was our child!"
"What's that?" the Queen Dowager asked. "I'll not recognize any bastards—"
"Oh, shut up!" Anna snapped, trying to thread her thoughts together. She couldn't think straight with this awful woman nattering in her ear.
"Well, I never!" The Queen Dowager puffed her chest out indignantly, but she promptly shut up.
Anna ignored her, following the thread of thoughts. There was no child. She and Hans hadn't consummated their love. They were going to, and then they'd been interrupted, and common sense prevailed over passion.
They had been the best chance at breaking the curse, at restoring the trolls, only they had gotten it wrong. Anna groaned in despair. It had never occurred to either of them. They had been so sure that Hans was the one to lift the curse. And he was, only indirectly. As indirectly as Anna was.
Had Liesel known? She must have—no, she had to have. Her cryptic words to Anna about the Westergaard born of love made perfect sense now.
'You don't need to find them. Searching is not your part to play in it.'
Anna's part was to be the mother of the Westergaard born of love, while Hans's part was to be the father.
Liesel had been carefully curating Hans his entire life once she knew what he was meant to be. If he had been meant to be the one who restored the trolls, Liesel would have brought him to the glade at high noon herself when he'd been in the forest as a small, innocent boy. Instead, she'd kept him away from the glade. Why hadn't Anna realized that?
Terror sunk in.
That meant the trolls were still corrupted. Nothing had been restored.
And Westergaard girls were still in danger. Grete and Vilhelm's daughter was still in danger.
Anna rubbed her hands over her face trying not to panic. Trying to think of a way this could be fixed. But how could anything be fixed? Hans was dead.
Think, Anna. Think.
Just keep following the thread.
Liesel was Hans's protector, his guardian, gently steering him to where he needed to be. Liesel had spent lifetimes watching both of her families crumble to ruin. She'd seen the downfall of both the Westergaards and the trolls. It wasn't just the witch and the trolls that had been pulling strings, trying to orchestrate events to get their ideal outcomes. Liesel had had her hand in it too. She'd been waiting far too long to break the curse to see it end in vain, especially over a misinterpretation of the information she had given them.
And it wouldn't have been the first time Liesel had stepped in to keep Hans safe.
Anna was sure of it.
"She saved him," Anna whispered, reaching the end of the tangled thread of thoughts. "She had to have."
The Queen Dowager clicked her tongue. "You aren't making any sense."
But Anna would not be sidetracked. It hadn't just been the witch and the trolls involved. And Liesel had intervened on Hans's behalf before. The more Anna thought about it, the surer she was.
Liesel would not have let Hans die in that glade. Not when they were so close to the finish line.
"He's alive." Anna concluded. "Hans is still alive! He has to be!"
"You poor thing." The Queen Dowager pulled a face. "You're distraught with grief."
"No! He's alive, I know he is!"
"But you saw him fall."
Anna shook her head. "She wouldn't let him die, she's been waiting too long for him—for us—and we never—she wouldn't let him die without fathering a child!"
"I'm afraid you aren't making any sense. I shall ring for your sister."
"Don't bother," Anna cried, already rushing towards the exit of the gallery. "I'll find her myself!"