Over the next week, nothing happened. Anna felt stuck in the middling ground of some armistice. Neither she or Hans had relented on the town issue, but they weren't outright fighting over it either. They still had meals together—sometimes in the main dining hall, sometimes in the upper room—and indulged in the occasional policy collaboration, but other than that, Anna couldn't help but feel as if an invisible sheet of formality had slammed down between them.

There was tension there, a string stretching wide and tight between them, but she had no idea how to snap it.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. She had a couple ideas, actually, she just didn't have the courage to follow through with any of them.

One morning, she swung into the dining hall for breakfast to find it empty, which wasn't all that surprising. Figuring Hans was upstairs, she spun on her heel and went to leave.

A low cough made her pause.

The butler was standing by the entrance of the servants' doors.

"You won't find him upstairs either," he informed her. "His majesty apparently decided to skip his morning repast today."

Anna lifted an eyebrow. "Apparently?"

The butler gave her a stiff, neutral look. Anna interpreted it as his version of a shrug.

Her stomach ached with hunger, but curiosity overruled it. Hans had a meh-attitude towards lunch, she'd learned, but breakfast was a different story. In the month and a half since they'd returned from Corona, he hadn't missed a single one yet.

She checked his study first, and then a couple other places—the throne room, the entrance hall, the stables—before finding him in the library. He was bent over a reading desk on the far side of the room with wiry old man in a brocade vest and spectacles that took up half his face. They spoke quietly, gesturing over a machine between them. It was the size and shape of a milkcrate with a black horn attached on top.

Hans looked up as she approached. "Anna? What are you doing here?"

"You weren't at breakfast."

In the silence that followed, Anna realized she'd just admitted that she'd rather track him down than eat alone.

She coughed to break it.

"Right," Hans said blinking. "Oh, I haven't introduced you. Anna, this is Signor Leonardo Provenza." The old man hobbled forward and eagerly shook Anna's hand. "He's a renown inventor in his homeland, here at my invitation. He was just showing off his latest invention… Only a couple parts seem to have been damaged in the ride over. Both of us were trying to fix it up." He gave her a sheepish smile. "Seems we lost track of time."

"It's your infernal northern roads," Leonardo grumbled. "The Romans started the paving process. Don't see why you lot haven't used the thousand years since to complete them."

"As you can see, he's very opinionated."

"Sounds like someone I know," Anna said before she could stop herself.

They shared a brief look, and then Anna stepped forward to more closely examine the machine. The inventor gave her a warning glance. Suddenly hyperaware every single fragile she'd ever broken before, Anna was careful to keep both hands behind her.

"What is it?" she asked.

"A music machine," Hans said.

"You mean like a music box?"

The inventor snorted. "Ha! 'Like a music box?', she asks…"

Anna turned to Hans. "I take it that's a 'no'?" she drawled.

"Just stand back let the man do his work."

Anna bit back a grumble. Unfortunately her stomach did it for her.

Hans frowned. "You should go back, get breakfast. I'll find you when he's done."

"I'm fine," she said with a dismissive wave. "Plus you guys already spent the whole morning on it. How much longer can it take?"

"Very much," Leonardo muttered, "if I don't get any silence."

Anna flushed, then stood back as the inventor got to work. He hovered from part to part like a hummingbird, tinkering and adjusting.

"He didn't yell at you when you were talking," she eventually whispered to Hans.

"That's because, unlike you, I was giving him helpful advice," he whispered back.

Anna glared at him. She had no idea what Hans was talking about—she could totally be helpful when needed. He flashed her a teasing smile, and her glare slowly softened into a pout. Then she realized how close they were standing.

Anna crossed her arms and retreated with an exaggerated sidestep.

"I think…" Leonardo said, making small grunts as he tightened a piece with his screwturner. "If I just…" He stretched his arm around and adjusted something with his free hand.

There was a click as that something fell into place. A fully orchestrated waltz blared from the black horn, making Anna jump back.

There was a snort beside her.

Anna glared at him suspiciously. "This isn't more of your magic, is it?" she whispered.

"Hardly," Hans said. "You're insulting the work of a genius. No magic, just solid engineering. Something even you could make work if you put your mind to it… Well, a smarter you at least."

He winced as Anna jabbed her elbow into his side.

"Now, as I've already explained to the king," Leonardo said, "each song is inscribed into a wax cylinder, stored here at the bottom of the machine. This part, here, reads the grooves in the wax and… and…" He broke off as he stifled a large yawn.

"My apologies Signor Provenza," Hans said, stepping forward. "I've been an absolutely terrible host. Do forgive me for dragging you in straight here without providing food or rest first."

"Not at all, not at all," Leonardo said as he yawned a second time. Hans began escorting him away. "Just as excited as you were and glad to have it fixed…"

Their voices softened as they moved toward the entrance of the library. Anna hung back, examining the music machine without touching. If there really were wax cylinders somewhere, they weren't anywhere she could see.

The library doors opened and closed again. When Hans rejoined her, he was alone.

"The servants are seeing Signor Provenza to his room," he explained. "It was a long journey. He probably won't be awake again until noon. Perhaps later."

"Right." Anna looked back at the machine. "So you invited a world class inventor into your kingdom… Any upcoming diabolical taking-over-the-world schemes I should know about?"

Hans snorted. "Hardly." He crossed his arms and nodded at the machine. "Improve technology and you improve the kingdom. Provenza has radical new ideas in the fields of optics, agriculture, astronomy… Obviously, most aren't as solid in practice as they are on paper, but they're still worth the investment."

He looked at the machine as he spoke, like he could see through to its inner workings. There was a gleam in his eye. Passion. Anna still didn't know the full extent of the treason and murder he'd committed to get here, but it was clear he hadn't committed them just to grab power for power's sake. He was passionate about ruling. He talked about making the kingdom better, and, unlike half the politicians she'd met in life, they weren't empty words spoken to bespell the masses.

Anna twitched uncomfortably.

Things would be so much easier if he was just straight out evil.

Hans suddenly turned towards her.

"What?" Anna said.

He held out a hand. "Dance with me."

Anna stared at him.

"What."

"No one here. No one to judge."

Anna frowned. "That's not what I—"

"There's a full orchestra playing in a box the size of our hands. Just for us…"

Anna nearly groaned at his over-the-top schmaltziness. "You sure you brought that inventor here for the good of the kingdom?" she asked with a lifted eyebrow.

"Just one?

Anna rolled her eyes.

It was stupid, and she took solace in knowing she'd never agree under normal circumstances, but if it helped the plan…

Anna took his hand and let him pull her close. She couldn't stop her involuntary swallow when he rested a gloved hand, firm but gentle, against her waist. Taking a deep breath, she laid her own atop his shoulder. The orchestra played behind them; there was a slight tinny sound to it if she concentrated. Anna closed her eyes and began to mentally count with the rhythm of the piece.

As he started to move, she let her feet follow. They made slow circles around the library floor.

"What are you thinking?" Hans asked.

Anna kept her eyes closed. "Nothing," she said.

It was the truth. They spun a couple more times beneath the rise and fall of the violins.

"Lots of things change, but this… This hasn't, has it?"

Despite the ridiculous vagueness, Anna knew he was talking about Elsa's coronation, all the way back… over seven years ago now. Another lifetime really. And it was completely ironic and messed up beyond belief, but—

Anna broke into snorting giggles.

"What?" Hans asked.

"Nothing, just—" She cracked open her eyes and stared at his shirt collar as she snorted again. "I just realized, out of all the people I've known in my life… I think you're pretty much in the top three that I've known the longest. Feels like some kind of joke, really."

"Joke?" he said. "Or fate?"

Anna looked up, frowning as she met his eyes. "I thought you didn't believe in fate."

"It's complicated."

"Sure it is."

"Alright, you've got me," Hans admitted. "You're right. I don't believe in fate. But can you blame me for wanting to be a romantic?"

Anna searched his face but didn't see a hint of conscious irony. "Right…" she said slowly. "Because romantics totally lock their fiancés in rooms and leave them to die. So romantic."

His steps didn't falter, but there was a stiffness to his voice when he spoke next: "I made it up to you."

Anna's eyes narrowed. "Made it up to me. Really. And how's that?"

"I offered you immortality, didn't I?"

Her grip on his shoulder tightened and she had to force herself to keep his gaze. "That was…" She swallowed. "That was just another one of your games."

"No. Everything I said back then, everything I offered… I meant every word of it."

Anna studied his face, her chest suddenly tight. "Why?"

"Do you really have to ask?" he murmured.

Distantly, Anna heard the waltz soften; whatever clockwork pressure that powered the machine was fading. They'd stopped dancing—Anna couldn't remember when that had happened—but they hadn't pulled away. Hans dropped the hand that'd held hers. It ghosted over her shoulder, up towards her cheek, cradling it, and Anna didn't stop him.

His lips met hers, light and tingling. Anna closed her eyes. Her free hand moved over his chest, the stitching of his vest soft beneath her palm.

Then he drew back. They stared at each other wordlessly.

The next thing Anna knew, his hands were in her hair and he was dragging her back into another kiss. She tugged at his vest, crushing him closer, needing to remove any semblance of space between them. One of his hands moved to the small of her back. As her mouth opened, welcoming him in, Hans gave a light moan and the sound of it sent a rush of heat straight through her.

Anna panicked, jumping back. Her legs wobbled as she fought to reclaim a respectable distance.

"I— I…" Words floated out of her reach, lost in headless spinning. She grasped for some kind of polite excuse as to why she'd pushed him away, any kind of excuse, but nothing came.

Hans suddenly laughed, the sound dark and bitter. Her skin chilled as she watched him run a hand through his hair.

"Should've known…" he muttered.

Anna continued to stare at him.

"My brothers were right," he said, shaking his head. "None of this is real. You're just playing along with the situation I've given you."

Anna trembled at the humiliating memory. "Well, maybe if you just let me go home—"

Hans groaned. "Not this again. You're not going home."

"Then stop whining!" Anna snapped. "You can't have it both ways! You can't expect me to love you and be your captive! And— And you can't just order your brothers to respect you. That's not how it works!"

"Why not?!" he demanded, sounding like a petulant child. Both of them realized it at the same time. He reddened, and then swallowed, face stiffening as his familiar mask settled back in. "Leave me," he said. "Now."

Anna shook. She wanted to shout back, wanted to scream, wanted to be just as immature as him.

But she wouldn't.

Taking a final deep breath, she spun on her heel and stormed out.

Neither Hans or the inventor were at dinner that night.

She ate alone in silence, occasionally glancing at his empty chair. Afterwards it took every shred of strength not to head straight back to her room. She encouraged herself by reminding herself that she didn't have to interact with him. She just had to show her face, show him that she wasn't some cowardly pushover that'd flee and hide at the first sign of an argument.

Anna didn't bother to knock as she entered his study. Keeping Hans at the edge of her vision, she strode with feigned confidence towards her little office and plopped herself down at her desk. Several stacks of papers still waited for her attention.

She felt rather than heard as he entered. He lingered in the doorway.

"What are you doing here?" he finally asked.

Anna smiled as she continued writing. "Treaties and tax laws aren't going to read themselves," she replied with false chipperness.

She heard him inhale, like he was about to protest.

Anna finished writing her current sentence and looked up.

The doorframe was empty. He'd gone back to his own study.

Anna stared blankly at it for a bit, and then returned to her work, immersing herself in it for the next hour. It'd gotten relaxing in a way, helping her pass the time more than any of her craft projects ever had. Weeks and weeks of practice had made her near fluent in legalese, and from Hans' lessons, she now recognized the logical pitfalls and various wording tricks that would make a policy seem like it helped one way when it actually harmed in another.

Finishing the final page with flourished crosses on her 't's, Anna took a quick breather to shake the cramps out of her hand. When that was done, she doubled-checked her work with an occasional self-affirming nod, then scooped it all up and made her way over to the main room.

She lingered in the doorway like he had. Hans must've known she was there, but he didn't pause in his writing. He remained leaned forward over his desk, the curve of his shoulder blades visible even through his jacket as his fountain pen scratched out letter after letter. Analytical. Cold.

The memory of his moan echoed in her ears.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Not now.

Forcing herself over to his desk, she held out her work. It felt like some ghost had possessed her body, a stranger using her mouth, as she briefly summarized the various contracts and treaties she'd reviewed that night.

He took them without looking at her. "Thank you." Then he returned to his own work.

Anna stared at him a moment longer, and then left.

They settled straight back into uneasy, painful stiffness. The schedule more than anything else helped her through it. The inventor finished up his visit and left. Hans remained absent at meals. Anna felt like if she was really cared about the 'plan' she should say something about that to him, but what she supposed to do? Ask? After the things he'd said? After the things she'd said?

Her handicrafts felt even more pointless and time-wasting now that she'd gotten involved in kingdom-level things that actually mattered. She stared at a giant knot in the yarn of her latest project, then chucked the whole thing across the room. Sinking back in her chair, she crossed her arms.

She was accomplishing nothing. A great, big, giant pile of nothing.

After a whole month and a half spent on her brilliant 'plan,' Hans hated her more than ever. At this point, she probably had a better chance of getting him to give up his immortality for Sitron than her…

Come to think of it, why hadn't she thought of that from the start? Stab the horse, save the kingdom.

Anna groaned.

Now she was even sounding like him. Stab the horse indeed…

Her stomach grumbled as she stood, but there was still an hour or two before dinner. Perhaps she could get some policy work done beforehand and then call it an early night. She stretched before making her way along the now painfully familiar route to Hans' study.

She pushed open the door and paused.

And blinked.

The main desk was cleared of all paperwork. Hans leaned against it, his profile to her, as he stared at a giant continental map that'd been hung across several of the bookcases. He was wearing his crown—a rarity in his study, Anna suddenly realized.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

Hans waved a gloved hand lazily at the map. "Been awhile since my last expansion. Too long I think. The question is…" He stretched and pushed himself up. "Where should I go next?"

Anna laughed warily. "Very nice. Good joke." When he didn't reply, she swallowed. "Hans… you don't need any more—"

"Oh Anna, it's not about what I need."

Anna stiffened. "Hans, this isn't funny."

"Did I say it was supposed to be?" He stepped towards the map. "What do you think? Borogravia's army has been on their last legs for decades. Shouldn't be more than a week's campaign. Two max. Of course, pleasure that's easy gained is easy lost…"

"Stop."

"Or maybe Sovkaya? Imagine the prestige, the challenge… A thousand years and it's never been conquered. Every campaign always went to hell as soon as winter hit, but I think I have a couple tricks up my sleeve to deal with that, don't you?"

"I said, stop!"

"Not Sovkaya then? Kyprios, perhaps? Or should I be looking in the opposite direction? They say the beaches of Calella are the best on the continent—"

Anna lunged forward with a growl. Hans' eyes went wide, but Anna reached straight past him. She tore down the map and began shredding it to pieces.

"What are you—? Hey, you can't do that!"

Anna ignored him and kept tearing. She made one particularly satisfying rip straight down the center of Weideland. Hans tried to grab the map from her but only succeeded in completing the tear.

Holding both pieces, he glared at her.

"It won't make you happy, you know," Anna said.

"Psychologist now, are we?"

"Your brothers might've been wrong about me, but they were right about you. You keep grabbing kingdoms and kingdoms, but what's the point?"

"What's the point?" He looked genuinely confused. "The point is they're mine."

"And have they made you happy?"

Hans scoffed. "You don't know anything."

"Oh, I don't, do I?" Anna said, sweeping a hand to her chest as she blinked her lashes. "Poor, stupid Anna who knows nothing. Let's see. I know you're an insufferable brat who's always blamed all his problems on the world around him, who thinks he's owed sooo much just because he's sooo smart. I know you always dismiss all your brothers as stupid and unimportant, but then you go running straight to them for validation the first chance you get. Oh, and this whole kingdom grabbing, god-emperor thing? I know it's just your way of filling up the great big empty hole of nothingness inside of you because that is all that you are! You're just filled with noth—!"

Hans pushed her into a bookcase and shut her up with a kiss.

There was nothing gentle about it, his teeth clashing against hers. Anna burned white-hot with rage herself. Book spines dug into her back and as his grip on her tightened painfully, she pushed back. One hand buried itself in his hair and pulled, knocking his crown to the floor in the process. The other reached around, clawing into his back like she could reach through his chest and yank his heart out that way.

Hans' mouth dropped, peppering rough kisses down past her neck. There was a brush of teeth against her neck, the slightest pressure of a bite and Anna gasped.

He paused at the sound. His touch softened, but he didn't loosen his hold, didn't raise his head from her neck.

"Please…" he begged, his breath hot and ragged.

Anna's head fell back. She stared at the ceiling, mind blank and legs shaking. If he let go of her right now, she didn't know whether or not she'd be able to keep herself up. She tried to piece together her plan again, or any plan, or any… anything. She couldn't keep pushing him away, but couldn't just let him use her and lose her either. She needed—

Anna looked down at the torn map, half-curled and half-ripped on the floor.

"Marry me," she blurted out.

Hans pulled his head back and stared at her. "…what?"

Anna drew in a shaky breath as she gathered her crumbs of confidence. She'd suddenly reached the top of some hill and could see the path she needed to take again, stretching out far into the distance. "You want me?" she said. "Marry me."

"Who said I wanted you?"

Anna stared at him. His green eyes stared back. He still had her pressed against the bookshelves, their bodies aligned and his face inches from hers. Probably his worst lie in the history of lies.

"You're mad," he finally said. "You hate me."

Anna tried her best at a coy shrug. "I'd get joint control over twelve kingdoms that I've pretty much been helping rule for the past month anyway. So… not too mad of an idea, I think."

She waited for his response. The race of her heartbeat betrayed the relative calm on her face; they were still pressed so close together, he had to have been able to hear it, to feel it.

The silence dragged on.

And then Hans scoffed.

A pit dropped in her stomach.

Hans pulled away and Anna felt herself gripping at the bookshelves behind her to keep herself from falling. The pit sunk more and more as he walked towards the door.

Anna's face, her entire body, burned in regret. She should've known he'd never—

Hans stopped.

He paused, then turned back, a cool smirk on his face. "I accept."