Anna hauled herself up onto her horse with shaking legs. As it pranced in a circle beneath her, she tightened her grip on the reins, praying not to fall.

"Sure you don't want to take the carriage?" Hans asked.

Anna flashed him a dark look. She wanted to snap that it wasn't her fault she hadn't ridden a horse in more than a year, but no. That would increase the tension in what she'd overall planned as a tension decreasing day. She straightened in the saddle, retaking control.

Hans sighed. "Very well. After you."

Anna coaxed her horse out of the stable. She flinched as the sudden outdoor light hit her by surprise. She blinked beneath the overcast sky, regaining her vision, and then paused.

"What now?" Hans groaned.

Gripping her reins, Anna stared out at the vast expanse of meadow and that line of forest in the distance. She'd spent so much time up in her room last year, dreaming of being here, escaping here… and now…

Somehow she'd moved both closer and further away from that goal than ever.

"Nothing," she said brightly, shaking those thoughts from her head. "Race you there."

Anna nudged her horse into a gallop before Hans could stop her. And he didn't.

The wind rushed past her face. If she closed her eyes she could imagine herself in total freedom. But her equestrian skills were rusty, and she didn't trust herself not to crash, so she didn't. The town took only ten minutes to reach at full speed. As they approached the gates, Anna reluctantly pulled her horse back into a walk. She dropped down and winced; despite the shortness of the ride, she'd apparently used some muscles that were out of shape.

"Having regrets?" Hans asked, dismounting beside her. He brushed off his pants as a town stablehand took Sitron's reins.

"Not at all," Anna replied.

As she passed over her horse too, Hans extended his arm for her to take.

Anna snorted. "Don't push your luck."

She clasped her hands loosely behind her and let Hans lead her towards the center of the town. The spring festivities seemed to be in full swing. Handmade flags hung from every window. There wasn't any kind of unifying pattern between them as far as Anna could tell, but there were lots of blues and greens, lots of stitched trees and painted flowers. A grid of trading tents had been set up in the town square. A massive seed exchange was happening against the east wall. In the center, a group of musicians were fiddling out folk tunes by a large fountain as several dozen couples danced before them. Next to the musicians, a huge cask had been set up; old women stood guard, pouring out hard cider that'd been casked over the winter.

"So," Hans said, nodding at it all. "What do you want to do?"

Anna continued to stare at all. She hadn't exactly thought through the day this far. The town square was just as crowded as the Wallonian ballroom had been, but unlike the Wallonian ballroom, she had options beyond the basic talking and dining, but still not a lot of options because Anna didn't want to dance or get drunk or—

"Your Majesty!" one of the cider women called out. Her head bowed as she came forward with a mug. "Care to try a sample?"

Hans turned to Anna as if seeking her permission. Anna shrugged, and he took the mug. Somehow he made the act of chugging back cider in a townsquare look dignified.

He smiled at the woman when he was done. "Refreshing as always."

"Plenty more barrels where it came from," the old woman said, her wrinkles grinning with her. "Good winter. Just like last years."

The two chatted about the town. Anna tried to listen in but they were mentioning too many unfamiliar family and local business names for her to follow along, so she focused on keeping her head straight and a polite smile plastered on like a doll.

"Oh, Princess. Do forgive me," Hans suddenly said, turning from the old woman towards Anna. "We never offered."

He held up the mug of cider.

Anna stared at it, then quickly shook her head. "No, I'm quite fine. Thanks though."

She watched as he passed the mug back to the old woman. "Thank you for letting me know about your nephew Jeffrey and his twins," he told her. "I'll pray for their good health and recovery."

The old woman nodded and waved them on.

"Sorry, about that," he whispered to Anna.

Anna shrugged. "Nothing to forgive."

His face was blank. Then he coughed and his expressions seemed to reset themselves. He smiled at her. "So. Festival. Anything you wanted to do?"

Anna frowned, taking in the full scope of the square again.

"Can we just… walk?" she asked.

Hans gestured forward in answer, allowing her to take the lead. Anna wove them through the grid of trading tents, silently examining the mixture of locally made handicrafts and foreign curios. On the far side of the square, she stopped. A massive mural was being painted across the whole left side of the southern wall from corner to main archway. Townsfolk swarmed over it, some collaborating, most lost in their own little worlds until the edges of their creations bumped up against somebody else's.

It was chaos.

Beautiful chaos.

Hans nodded at the wall. "The dye in the paint is plant-based," he said. "Three good rainstorms and its gone. From what I've heard, the beauty's supposed to be the fleeting existence of the thing. Personally I see it as a waste of time, but…" His eyes flicked toward her. "Want to join them?"

"Oh, no it's—" Anna started automatically. She paused. "Can I?"

Hans bowed, sweeping his arm towards the mural with a loop of his hand.

Anna bounded forward. It wasn't even like Anna was super excited about the art itself—that was Rapunzel's thing—but as she grabbed a paintbrush and battled to dip it into the nearest can with the three other people around her, she felt herself brimming with energy. She didn't even know what she was painting, instead letting the first few blobs and shapes dictate the general spirit of the thing. She found herself lost in it—lost in the painting, in her rambling chatter with the little girl beside her who couldn't have been more than nine years old, in the sheer relief and non-stress at being able talk to someone and finally not be talking about herself or Hans or other crazy kingdom related stuff.

Finally she took a pause and looked up. She wiped a paint-splattered hand across her forehead as she scanned the crowd. Hans was at one of the trading tents, deep in conversation with several farmers. His pristine, crisp overcoat looked out of place compared to their home stitched jerkins and mud-coated boots, but both parties were animated and seemed cheerful.

With her hand starting to cramp and orange unicorn and daisy bush completed, Anna passed her paintbrush over to the little girl who squealed at the prospect of having two brushes. A water bucket had been laid out next to the paint. Anna washed her hands before making her way over to Hans and the farmers. Halfway through a comment about cultivar diversity, Hans turned. As he saw Anna, his face lit up and he smiled.

Anna froze.

It looked genuine. Too genuine.

Which was the point. Nothing was ever genuine with Hans.

Forcing a smile onto her own face, she wiped her hands dry on the outside of her cloak.

"Princess Anna, this is Willas Garland," Hans said, gesturing to the nearest farmer. "He runs one of Weideland's largest flower fields."

"Your Highness," Garland said, bowing. "Ever gardened?"

"Oh, uhh… not really, actually." Arendelle was known for many things; prime farming real estate wasn't one of them.

"Well, lovely thing such as yourself, should be growing things of equal beauty," he said with a grin. "I've got some extra seeds. Easy things for a first timer. Get those to blossom and we can see about working you up to orchards and the like."

Anna rubbed the back of her neck. "Oh, you don't have to. Really—"

But the florist was already digging in the back of his stall.

"Did you put him up to this?" Anna whispered to Hans.

"Not a bit, I swear." His smile twisted into a smirk. "What can I say? Apparently, you inspire people."

Anna rolled her eyes but flushed all the same.

She graciously accepted Garland's bag of seeds, nodding along as she tried to pay attention to his instructions for each enclosed, string-tied packet. When he was done, Hans took care of the goodbyes and steered them away. They didn't get far before they were stopped by first the town's head farrier, and the then bookseller, and the captain of the port, and what eventually started feeling like the butcher, the baker, and the candlestick maker.

"Is there anyone in this town you don't know?" Anna finally asked when both of them were laden down with armfuls of gifts.

Hans waved goodbye to the president of the ladies sewing guild with his free hand. "I feel it's important for a ruler to know his people." He looked sideways at her. "You don't approve?"

"No, it's not that… just…"

She couldn't shake the wrongness of it. Beneath the flattery and polite familial inquiries, she knew there was nothing there. Hans didn't care about the people in this town. Not really. They were just more tools, more pawns to him. She frowned at all the gifts in her arms—all Hans had to do was smile and people gave him the world.

"Your Majesty!" a gruff voice called out.

Anna shuddered. If she had to hear that title applied to him one more time…

"Elder Homburg," Hans said with a dazzling grin. "I was hoping we'd run into each other."

A wizened old man shuffled towards them. He leaned all of his weight on a gnarled cane, the upper half of his body moving nearly parallel to the cobbles below. "Marvelous day," he said as he drew close. "Marvelous day. I can just feel the energy seeping back into these old bones of mine."

"Sounds like the festival's doing its job then."

The old man nodded before suddenly peering at Anna. "And who is this—? No, no. Don't tell me," he said before either Hans or Anna could respond. "You're the princess that our king has been hiding up there in the castle. So… he's finally lightened up enough to let the rest of us have a look at you then?"

Anna shifted with her bags. "That's not exactly—"

"Oh, don't worry. I know the full story. Been a prisoner of war myself back in the day. Twice over two different wars. Though I have to say, your wellbeing looks a hell of lot better than mine ever did." Despite the smile on his face, there was a hint of bitterness in his tone.

Anna paled.

Hans cleared his throat. "Elder Homburg, perhaps this isn't the best topic…"

The old man peered at the two of them in confusion, and then his eyes widened. "Oh, my deepest apologies, Your Majesty! Didn't mean to offend. Do forgive the bluntness of an old man." He nodded at Anna. "I know you're not responsible for the deaths caused by that ice witch. What was I saying before—? Oh, yes, marvelous day. The kind of day that seeps into ones bones and livens you up…" He stared up at the sky, hand shading his eyes. "Gonna be rain later though. Can feel that in my bones too."

"Indeed," Hans said.

Anna was silent, stuck in shock from the elder's ice witch comment. It'd been years since she'd heard any of those sort of paranoid, close-minded things about her sister. She'd thought she'd left them all behind. Distantly, she supposed the man's anger made sense; Arendelle and Weideland had been at war. Elsa had personally stopped some of the enemy forces, had killed…

Scanning the town square, Anna noticed people staring—fleeting glimpses, a split-second of eyes catching before the man or woman went back to whatever they'd been doing. She couldn't keep a running count in her head, couldn't tell whether it was because of their interest in Hans or their interest in her… Her breath caught, her stays of her dress suddenly too tight.

It was the Wallonian ballroom all over again.

"Of course," the old man continued, oblivious to Anna's discomfort. "It's all thanks to another good winter. Incredibly blessed, we are, three mild winters in a row. Although, I can't lie, it's making me start to worry for the next."

Anna blinked.

"Why?" she asked.

The old man coughed, apparently surprised she'd spoke. "Well," he said. "We can't keep having mild winters, can we? Something has to tip."

Anna stared at him, stared at Hans. "But Hans controls the weather."

The old man stared back at her for a good, long while. Then he burst out, guffawing in laughter. "I take back what I said about your wellbeing," he said beneath breaths. "Sure you haven't addled her mind?"

Anna turned to Hans in realization. "They don't know?"

His jovial mask had started to slip; there was a slightly pained expression around his eyes. "Perhaps we should move on?"

"They don't know what you can do…" Anna continued. She sucked in a breath. "They don't know what you did."

The old man had stood ranting about Anna's sister the ice witch, but didn't know Hans had claimed his power through similar magic. He didn't know Hans had killed thousands. He… no, everyone in this town—probably everyone in this kingdom—thought that Hans' reign was legitimate. They didn't know, didn't care, that he had murdered the previous royal family. They thought Anna was a legitimate prisoner of war, that there was nothing wrong with Hans keeping her prisoner—

"Anna?" Hans said, apparently sensing the storm brewing within her. "Perhaps this is something we should talk about in private—"

"Private?!" Anna snapped. "No! We're talking about this right here, right now!"

She threw the town's gifts at the ground, but they never hit; they slowed, stopping just a foot from impact. Anna stared at them, then at Hans, his face neutral, and then at the surrounding town.

Everything, everyone, was frozen.

"Undo it," she said.

"No."

Her fists trembled.

"Fine," Anna snapped. "Wrap all these people into your perfect happy dreamworld if you want. I'm not taking part of it!"

She stomped off in the direction of the town stables. She didn't care about the "plan" anymore. Didn't care that she was supposed to be playing the besotted captive, that perfect happy dreamworld was exactly what—

"Anna!"

Hans grabbed her wrist.

She whirled around, yanking it free. "Don't you dare touch me!"

His eyes widened, but he didn't move to grab at her again. With a final glare, she turned back around and continued towards the stables. She had her horse reined and saddled up before she realized the main flaw in her escape plan. She groaned.

She sensed Hans behind her.

"Can you at least unfreeze my horse?" she muttered. Seconds later, her horse snorted and shook its head. "Thank you."

Hans remained standing next to Sitron as she pulled herself up.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"Back to the castle," she replied, looking straight ahead. "A prisoner's allowed to let herself back into her prison, isn't she?"

"Anna, I didn't mean to—"

"Didn't meant to what, Hans?" she snapped. "Summon a blizzard that killed thousands of people? Murder King Henri and his daughter? Attack Arendelle? Imprison me?" She took a deep breath as her anger threatened to collapse out from under her. "Just go back to the square. I'm sure Elder Hamburger will have a bunch of questions about the king and his captive-in-tow disappearing in the blink of an eye."

Hans looked uncomfortable.

Anna glared at him. "What?"

"I already took care of it."

"Took care of it? How could you possibly have—?" She froze, mouth dropping in horror. "You altered his memory?"

"I can't alter memories," Hans said quickly. "I can only erase them. And only while they're still fresh."

Anna let out a noise of disgust. She snapped the reins and galloped out of the stables, letting her anger and frustration burn through her as she urged her mount faster and faster. It wasn't enough, but it was all she had.

She didn't pull to a stop until she was halfway between the town and the castle. The trees on either side of the main road swayed back and forth, wind rustling their leaves. Whatever time spell Hans had placed on the town, it either didn't extend out this far or Hans had lifted it by now.

A slight rumble echoed through the air.

Anna looked up at the darkening sky. The old man had been right—it was going to rain.

"I can get rid of it, if you want," Hans called out behind her.

Anna scowled back. Of course he was still following her.

"Right," she snorted. "Because more magic is obviously what I want at the moment."

"You're going to get soaked."

Anna remained silent as she urged her horse back into a trot.

"You want to get soaked?"

She shrugged without looking back.

Before long, the rain started to fall. It came in small, irregular droplets before widening into a steady, un-ignorable drizzle. Anna had to periodically wipe her bangs from her face as they got water-logged. It dripped into her eyes, soaked her dress until it weighed heavy against her legs. Hans had pulled up alongside her, although he maintained his distance by keeping to the far side of the road. He'd put up an invisible shield over himself and Sitron; both were as dry as when they'd set out that morning.

Anna gave an irritated huff.

Up ahead, the castle loomed in the ever-nearing distance. Anna wasn't ready to go back, not just yet, a part of her screaming to be contradictory just to be contradictory. At the next fork in the road, she steered her horse down the wrong path.

"I thought you said you were going to the castle," Hans instantly said.

"I changed my mind." She glanced his way, then decided to use his own words against him. "You did say I could go anywhere I wanted as long as you were with me. Or was that another one of your lies?"

She could see his face darken through the rain, but he didn't say anything further, so Anna urged her mount on. The fork led them onto a smaller dirt path that cut through hilly fields and was peppered with the occasional copse of ash and elm. Anna didn't care where it led her. She didn't care about the destination, didn't care about anything other than the knowledge that she was doing something that Hans didn't want, and she took her satisfaction from the periodic groans and huffs behind her.

It wasn't until the rain began to harden, ever heavy droplet stinging as it hit, that Anna's raw spite finally began to cool. Perhaps a direct return to the castle and hot bath wouldn't have been such a bad thing after all.

Anna pulled her horse into a full halt, and Hans pulled to a stop alongside her.

"Giving up?" he asked.

"It's not giving up," she said, and she realized she had to shout it, her words otherwise swallowed by the roar of the rain.

The world was a grey, hazed blur as the rain came down in torrents. Anna tried to turn her horse around on the path. It refused, so she dropped off, boots squelching in the mud, and began to lead it on foot.

The going was slow. The dirt path had turned into a muddy quagmire that pulled at everything it touched. Her feet sank, and she had to yank them back out again with every step, and the rain hurt, and it was cold.

"Say the word and I can bring the sun back," Hans said, apparently sensing her weakness. "The rain'll take more effort to dissipate now that it's built up, but I can still do it."

"I didn't ask you to—!" Anna squinted through the rain and then pointed ahead. "Up there! We can take shelter. Wait it out."

She pulled her horse forward and, after a few more yards of struggle, managed to make it beneath one of the leafy copses. It wasn't perfect—rain still dripped through gaps in the branches, but it would do. The unremitting press of the rain had been lifted from her shoulders and she could see again. It also made her realize just how soaked she was, and she held out her arms (as if keeping them away from her body would actually do anything to help them dry faster).

Hans stopped with her. He swung off Sitron and gazed past the curtain of water at the drenched countryside.

"So," Anna said as she squeezed out the ends of her braids. "You can't alter memories, it's harder to change weather once it's started rolling a bit… Any other power limits I should know about?"

He snorted. "Nice try."

Anna continued squeezing her hair, the patter of the rain actually kind of soothing now that it wasn't outright attacking her. When her hair felt twice its normal weight again—compared to the quadruple weight it'd been feeling out in the downpour—she stared at Hans again. The man was perfectly dry, the starch still visible in the lines of his clothes, and his hair still combed with just that little bit of lift. He looked like he'd just stepped out of a stuffy museum guarded portrait. Meanwhile she was standing there like a drowned cat, her braids limp, the hem of her dress and cloak caked with mud… Anna wondered if they were salvageable or if the servants would just cut them up for rags the second she got back.

Anger rekindled at the thought.

This was Hans.

This was his life—flitting over everyone else, floating in some separate parallel world while the rest of them had to struggle and crawl and force themselves to keep going to survive. He was perfect.

Too perfect.

And she couldn't stand it anymore.

Anna swung her boot back and kicked a clump of mud at him. It hit him mid-leg, splattering across his trousers.

"Hey!" he snapped, whirling around. "What are you—?!"

Anna was already bending down, scooping up another handful and flinging it at his face. It barely missed, so she tried again.

"Dragging you down with the rest of us!" she yelled.

She managed to hit him the third time. It was a glancing blow, barely dusting his cheek, but left enough of a stain on his flawless face that she felt herself flush, her body tingling with victory.

Then she got hit herself and she stumbled backwards, wiping and spluttering mud from her mouth.

"What the—?" She hadn't seen him lift his hands… then scowled as she suddenly realized he'd used his magic to throw it. "Hey! That's not fair!"

Hans flashed her a dark grin. "I'm sorry. I wasn't aware there were rules to ambush and assault."

Anna let out a growl and doubled-downed on her efforts. For every good hit she got in, Hans managed three. They circled each other, Anna trying to dodge his latest missiles, when her boot hit a slick patch of mud and slid out from under her. She grabbed onto Hans' overcoat and dragged him down with her, both of them toppling straight into the mud.

Her head spun, the world taking a bit to straighten.

Hans groaned as he pushed himself up. His fingers and wrists were coated with brown. Whatever invisible shield he'd placed over himself had broken; the rain was starting to hit the top of his head, trickle down across, his forehand, down past lips that were curved into a scowl. Scowling at her.

"Well, I hope you're satisfied because—"

He paused, staring at her.

Anna paused at his pause, trying to figure out what was wrong. Hans couldn't have been that mad at the mud, could he? As she fumed at his pettiness—a little bit of mud was nothing compared to the thousand other things that he'd done to her—Anna slowly realized he was directly on top of her, chests barely apart, legs tangled together, his face inches from hers. Anna took a trembling breath. They were both soaked, both covered with mud, and this wasn't at all how she'd imagined things when she'd told Elsa she'd—

And then Hans kissed her.

His mouth pressed hot against hers. Warmth shot through her, melting through the cold that'd been numbing her bones. Her eyes fluttered shut and she felt herself pushing back, meeting his kiss with her own, grabbing him closer. Somewhere in the back of her brain—as her muddy fingers tangled in his hair; his stupid, perfect hair—she knew this was wrong. She hated him, God, she hated him… but it felt so good. From the softness of his lips, gentle but demanding, to the steady weight of his hand with his thumb digging against her waist, moving down towards—

A cold slice of panic shot through her and Anna pushed him off.

She sat up, clutching her hands to her chest as if to cover herself even though she was fully clothed. Her breath came in heavy pants, her face burning. Hans was staring at her, eyes dark and unfocused, looking similarly flushed.

Anna coughed.

Well.

That was…

Whatever it was, it'd answered one question: Hans was definitely interested in her.

First step in her plan achieved.

A/N: Chapters will be weekly from here on out. Like Anna, I am fully focused on getting to the end.