Chapter Twenty-Three

Disclaimer: I neither own the rights to Disney, Frozen, the Disney universe nor any of its associated media, derivatives or products. I do not profit from this work.

Knock knock kn-knock knock. "Hey."

Elsa looked behind her, startled. "Anna. Is something wrong?"

"Nothing, except you're acting like such a shut-in," the younger sister said with a laugh as she walked inside. "You've been holed up in your room all morning; it's our last day of freedom before–" She stopped short, faltering, and the smiled again. "Well, we should make the most of it, right?"

"Of course; I've just been watching the storm come in," Elsa said, glancing to her window. The sky at the edge of the horizon was a dark gray. "It'll be here by tomorrow."

"It's just a storm, Elsa; you shouldn't be so worried," Anna said with a snort, flipping through a book on her desk. Suddenly, she said, "That's a pretty rose."

"What?" Elsa looked over, startled.

Anna was looking at the hymnal, open to the page in which lay the rose Hans had given her on their ill-fated outing. "Where did you get it?" the younger sister asked.

"Oh, um, the trolls' clearing."

"The trolls' clearing?" Anna said, frowning slightly. "Did you go there with Hans?"

Elsa bit her lip, looking back out the window and avoiding her sister's eyes. "Yes, we stopped there on the way up to the castle."

"Oh, okay." She closed the hymnal again, and Elsa was relieved she didn't question it further. "Have you eaten lunch yet?"

"Not yet."

"Well come on!"

The queen laughed as her sister tugged her by the arm out of the room. They continued to talk amiably as they walked down the stairs and through the halls, heading for the kitchens. As they were passing through the hall by the picture room, Elsa stopped suddenly and fell quiet.

Anna didn't even have to look over to know why, but she did anyway. Elsa said nothing as they continued to look at the portrait of their late parents.

"Mama and Papa would have been so proud of you," Anna said softly. When Elsa didn't answer, she asked, "What is it?"

"I'm not so sure they would be," Elsa confessed, turning to her. "Anna… I ran away after taking the crown. I shunned my sacred duties, left a kingdom without its queen, forced you to put it in the hands of a total stranger just so you could come running up the North Mountain to find me… the very first test of my loyalty as a ruler I failed miserably. It was only thanks to you that Arendelle survived at all."

"You can't put that kind of pressure on yourself!" Anna insisted. "You were terrified, you panicked-"

"Yes, I did. I panicked and ran away from my problems like a coward, instead of facing them like a queen. I did everything in my power to avoid having to confront the truth of what I'd done to you, to Arendelle….Because I was afraid, I put everyone into grave danger, including—and especially—you."

Neither spoke for a long moment, Elsa still staring at the portrait, Anna biting her lip. Finally, after several seconds, Anna said, "Well… they'd definitely be proud of you now."

"What do you mean?" Elsa said, looking over in surprise.

"What do I mean? Elsa, look around you! Your people are happy, you've opened the gates again… and you've placed the safety of your subjects ahead of even what you want." She touched her sister's arm and said softly, "I know you would have been willing to marry Hans for real if it would have protected Arendelle. Anyone who's willing to do that is a great leader and a wonderful queen."

Elsa managed to smile a little, though she still looked troubled. "Thank you, Anna."

"So let's go!" Anna said, pulling on her arm again. Elsa chuckled and followed, the happy mood once again restored. As they rounded a corner, Elsa bumped headlong into another person.

She quickly drew back, startled, and then curtsied, though her heart had jumped suddenly into her throat. "King Agnar. I was not expecting to see you here."

"Actually, I was looking for you," the king said. Elsa swallowed and tried not to seem troubled.

"Looking for me? Is something the matter?"

"Only that I've noticed there seems to have been an influx of soldiers to the town. I was wondering if there was some occasion for worry?"

Elsa's mouth opened, and she glanced at Anna. The extra contingent of soldiers to defend the capital if and when the war began had arrived the previous evening, but she had no way to explain their presence, oh goodness, she hadn't planned for this, why hadn't she planned for this, she was drawing a blank–

"Actually, your Majesty, it's Arendellian custom to have representatives of our military personnel present for any royal wedding," a voice said, and Agnar turned. Bishop Willum was standing just behind him, his expression the image of calm.

Elsa nodded and tried to conceal her relief. "Yes, quite correct, your Excellency."

"I have never heard of this custom," Agnar said, and his voice contained just a hint of suspicion.

"Well of course not," Anna said with a shrug. "I mean, you must've been pretty young when our parents got married, right? So you probably wouldn't remember."

"That...is true," he conceded. "Well, thank you, Queen Elsa, Princess Anna—" He gave a shallow bow, "—I will see the two of you later." He walked past them and down the opposite hallway.

Elsa let out a low sigh of gratitude. "Thank you, Willum."

"You're quite welcome, my dear. It looked like he had you cornered; it's lucky I came along when I did."

"I've never heard of that custom, either," Anna said frankly.

"That's because it's not real," Elsa admitted. "Willum knows, Anna; Hans told him."

"Oh, okay. Well then, thanks a lot."

"Of course. If you need anything more, I'll be happy to help." He smiled and inclined his head in a bow to the two royals, and then continued his walk down the hall in the same direction Agnar had gone.

As he passed by the King and Queen's portrait, he, too, stopped and turned to examine the old painting. The old clergyman let out a low sigh, and guilt filled his stomach as it always did whenever he came across this picture. Before his gray eyes, a scene long past came to life.

"This is absurd!" Willum nearly shouted, pacing back and forth. "She has the right to know-"

"You swore an oath!" the king retorted. "If she ever learned- if she ever found out-!"

"Then what?" Willum demanded, turning to him. "Would the true knowledge of her curse be too much for her to handle? I do not think so. Kai and Gerda agree with me; she must be informed now, while she's still young enough to accept it!"

"I am her father, and I am your king! You would do well to remember that!"

"You are," Willum responded testily. "But I am the girl's spiritual advisor—and yours, I'll remind you!" He started to pace again. "And now you want her hidden away, closing the palace gates? How will shutting her off from the rest of humanity help her in the slightest?"

"Willum…" the king sighed, sitting down in his throne. "I love my daughter. You know that. But I'm a king. I have to protect my people. And my daughter…she…" He shook his head. "She…could be…dangerous, to them. And they to her."

The bishop sighed, as well. "Well…at the very least, she will have you, her mother and her sister." He noticed how the king glanced away at this, and said, "…There is something you haven't told me."

His liege hesitated, and then admitted, "I…have had Elsa moved out of her sister's room."

Willum stared. "What?"

"Just until she learns to control it," the king promised. "When she's got a better hold over her powers, we'll move them back together again."

"Control it?!" Willum demanded, aghast. "The girl is seven! She's barely achieved the age of reason, let alone the age of self-control!"

"I thought you were in favor of this!" the king shot back.

"I'm in favor of her accepting her powers for what they are, instead of spinning her a fairy-tale or locking her away from the world! And more to the point, I'm in favor of showing the girl how and why to control the curse by giving her the chance to be normal—to let her burden be known and to allow others to help her with it. How is isolating her from the real world supposed to do that?" He shook his head. "And what will Anna think, when Elsa tells her why she's moved out?"

The king grimaced. "Anna…has been made to forget about Elsa's powers."

"What? Forget? That's impossible."

"No," he said wearily. "It isn't." He stood again. "A few nights ago, Elsa accidentally harmed Anna. We took her to...people, in the forest, who healed her…but they also altered her memories of Elsa's magic."

By now, Willum had gone pale with anger and disbelief. "You- you had her memories altered?!"

"Willum-"

"This is absolutely unbelievable! Was it not enough to have one enchanted daughter, did you have to go and bewitch the younger one as well?!"

"What's done is done!" the king thundered, and the bishop drew back slightly, startled. His liege almost never raised his voice. "Besides," the king said, in a less harsh tone, "it's better this way. Anna is in less danger, and Elsa…she can learn to control her powers. I'm sure of it."

The bishop fell silent for a long moment, before he replied, "…I still believe you should tell her the true origins of her curse."

"Willum, you promised me you'd keep this secret," the king said tiredly. "Please. I don't want to send you away. But I have to protect my daughters…especially from themselves."

It was an agonizing moment for the clergyman, and he deliberated for many seconds. Finally, he sighed. "…I gave you my word and I won't break it. I'll stay, for you…and for the girl."

"Thank you…"

Willum's memory cleared, and he found himself still staring at the picture. "And now, your Majesty?" he said softly. "Even now, when she has learned control, when she has rebuilt the bridge torn down between her and her sister—must we keep our oath forever?"

His late monarch looked back at him regally, and the bishop sighed to himself. "What sort of man breaks a promise to his dead friend? No; I will keep my word…but I fear I will live to regret it." With one last look at the painting, he turned and continued down the hall.

Outside the translucent walls and frosted towers the winds howled in endless snowstorm, but within, all was a dead and frozen quiet, save for the telltale clink of ice heels on ice floor.

The Snow Queen paced back and forth before the great mirror, her great fur cape sliding along the glassy ground. "The storm will reach Arendelle in a few hours," she said aloud. "Everything is proceeding as planned."

"You sound very certain of yourself."

"I am very certain of myself," she answered curtly, turning to the mirror. Blue eyes looked back coldly as her reflection raised an eyebrow. "My power grows with every shard collected; very soon, you will be complete."

"You were granted a thousand years," her alter said calmly. "And your power will fail the moment dawn breaks on you come that hateful day. Have you forgotten what punishment awaits you if you do not fulfill your oath by then?"

"Of course I have not forgotten!" she snapped irritably, resuming her pacing. "But there are only four shards left, and I know of their whereabouts; they will be easy to collect."

"Will they? Nearly a millennia has come and gone; now you are left with little more than a week. Time passes fast, does it not, Julia?"

She whirled around. "You cannot call me that," the Snow Queen hissed. "I forbid you to call me that!"

Her reflection stared back coolly and didn't answer. The Snow Queen drew herself up and said icily, "You are nothing but an object, a puzzle I am putting back together. You ought to remember which one of us is the mistress, and which is the slave." With that, she swept out of the room.

The face in the mirror smiled and vanished.

Night had fallen over the camp, but within the last tent, not all was at ease. Hans was asleep, but his eyes moved back and forth underneath his eyelids, and his face twitched slightly, frowning.

The cold winds gusted every which way, furious and frantic. Hans could see a feminine figure in front of him, turning desperately, trying to fight her way through the storm. "Elsa!" he yelled. "You can't run from this!"

She turned, face pained. "Just take care of my sister," she pleaded, voice breaking.

"Your sister? She returned from the mountain weak and cold. She said that you froze her heart!"

Elsa's eyes went wide, and she whispered a soft, "No."

"I tried to save her, but it was too late!" She believed him; he could see it in her eyes, and felt the success blaze hot within him even as he kept up the sorrowful act. "Her skin was ice, her hair turned white. Your sister is dead." Elsa stared, disbelieving, and he delivered the final blow. "…Because of you."

"No," she gasped again, and stumbled away, falling to the ground. He unsheathed his sword and stood before the weeping queen, blade raised, teeth gritted. She didn't look at him, though surely she'd heard the scrape of metal against leather, surely she knew what he was about to do.

Pathetic. She was so… pathetic.

For one brief second, the war surged inside his heart, between virtue and success, between who he was and who he wanted to be. One blow and this would all be over. He would finally be a king in his own right, a great and powerful ruler. She- she had everything, everything for which he'd had to fight and strive all his life. Why should she have such power, she who wasted it and abused it, whereas he had nothing? She didn't deserve it; she'd fled her responsibilities and cursed her own people! Was this too high a price to pay, to finally have a purpose, a place where he would be respected, admired…even loved?

He brought the sword crashing down.

The scene changed just as the blade struck her neck, and he found himself on a hangman's scaffold in the middle of the town square, in the capital of the Southern Isles. All around him were people, crowding close to the stand. He choked as the hangman looped the noose around him from behind and then walked out in front of him.

"Prince Hans, you are hereby executed for the murder of Queen Elsa of Arendelle," the executioner said, not looking at him. "Do you have any last words?"

He stared out at the sea of faces. They seemed all a blur to him. His tongue felt dry; his heart pounded in his ears. "I-I'm sorry," he stammered. "I'm so sorry."

Finally, the executioner turned to him, and he felt his heart stop. The red-haired man stared at him coldly. "You're sorry?" the other Hans asked him. "That's all you have to say for the horrendous crime you've committed?"

"I- I-"

"You sick, pathetic fool," he scoffed. "You killed a woman and left another to die, and you really think you can be forgiven?" He walked over to the executioner's lever.

Hans looked out at the crowds, terror assaulting him. "Please," he begged. "Please, someone, stop him! Help me!"

The other him chuckled lowly. "Oh, Hans," he sneered. "If only there were someone out there who loved you."

Then he pulled the lever, and Hans felt the floor fall out beneath him.

He shot bolt upwards, clutching at his throat and gulping down air like a starving man would food. He could hardly think, hardly breathe…

Hans stumbled to his feet and out of the tent, unsure to where he was running but knowing he had to go. Unfortunately, his feet slipped on the snow, and he collapsed forward, hands jarred by the impact. He choked as the nausea and horror mixed and rose in his gut.

The prince retched onto the frozen ground, again and then once more. When there was nothing left in his stomach, he just knelt there weakly, gasping and shaking. Monster, the little voice in his head chanted gleefully, this is the proof! You know what you are, Hans, you know! Even if you have all the rest of them fooled, you know the truth! You're nothing but a cowardly, sick, disgusting, twisted…

So miserable was he that he didn't even notice the presence of someone walking up behind him. Kristoff, who'd come out of the tent just in time to see the man lose his dinner, stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do. He wasn't a doctor and he had no idea what was wrong with Hans, who was still kneeling in the snow, shoulders shuddering with each choked breath. Uncomfortably, he reached out and tried to lay a hand on the man's shoulder.

Hans jerked violently at the contact and scrambled to his feet, whirling around. When he realized it was Kristoff, he stopped. Both stared at each other for a long second. Kristoff realized that Hans's cheeks were wet.

Then that second passed, and Hans quickly wiped his eyes with the palm of his hand and pointed at Kristoff fiercely. "You didn't see anything!" he spat.

The mountain man gaped for a moment, and then recovered himself. "No," he agreed. "Of course not. Nothing to see, anyway."

Hans nodded shortly and looked away. A long, uncomfortable moment passed.

"Um… look, it's really not my place," Kristoff said awkwardly. "And if you want me to leave you alone, I will. But… are you okay?"

The prince swallowed, and didn't reply for such a long while that the iceman was about to give up and go back inside the tent, before Hans said lowly, "…I'm in love with her."

Kristoff started at the sudden noise and looked over, surprised. "What?"

"Elsa. I'm in love with Queen Elsa."

The mountain man was absolutely floored. "You're–" Hans glanced over and nodded dully. "Whoa," Kristoff said, leaning back against the sled. "That's–"

"Complicated. Exactly."

"Does Elsa–?"

"She has no idea. I suppose that's the only upside in all of this." His voice was full of rueful, remorseful irony. "I'm in love with the woman I tried to murder. And as if that weren't bad enough, I keep on- I can't stop seeing…" His voice broke and he trailed off, pinching the bridge of his nose hard with a shaking hand.

Kristoff could tell there was something more, something that was eating away at the prince like an acid, but he didn't push it, waiting instead for the other to speak first. "You're an honest man, Mr. Bjorgman," Hans said woodenly, once he'd managed to pull himself together. "If I ask you a question, will you give me an honest answer?"

Kristoff considered this, and then nodded. "Yeah."

Hans looked at him, and there was a deep, clawing fear in his green eyes. "Do you think I'm insane?"

The mountain man didn't answer right away, thinking. "…No," he said finally. "I don't."

Hans stared at him, stunned. "Truly?"

"Yeah. Truly. I mean, I know I call you a lunatic a lot, and what you did, trying to kill Elsa—that was flirting with the line pretty bad, I won't lie. But it's not like you're the first person to ever kill for power, or try to, anyway."

"But how do you know?" he insisted. "How do you know I'm not crazy?"

Kristoff's shrugged. "If you were crazy, you wouldn't feel guilty about it."

The answer was so clear, so simple, that Hans instantly felt as if a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, shoulders slumping in relief. Of course. "That…that makes sense."

Kristoff, looking distinctly uncomfortable, gestured towards the sled. "Do you, uh…want to talk about it, or something?" Hans gave him a startled look, and the blond flushed. "Y'look like you need it, so…"

The prince appeared to debate this, and then, to Kristoff's surprise, gave an awkward, jerking nod and leaned against the sled.

"…I spent a year and a half in solitary confinement." Kristoff nodded. "When…you're alone with your thoughts for that long, you…"

"Start to see things that aren't there." Hans looked over, surprised, and Kristoff nodded. "Like I said, I spent every summer up on the glaciers; you can go weeks up there without seeing another human being. Why do you think I talk to my reindeer?"

"I figured that was a…you thing." Kristoff shrugged. "Anyway, I started seeing things. Hearing things."

"Like?"

"Elsa. Princess Anna." His shoulders had hunched. "It's one thing to kill somebody once; you can do anything if you get yourself angry enough. But to do it over and over again…"

"Oh."

"Of course, sometimes it was self-defense." Hans smiled weakly. "Queen Elsa especially. She'd get into my cell, and, well, it was kill or be killed. Apparently the other prisoners could hear me screaming." Kristoff didn't reply. "I knew I was going crazy, but I couldn't stop it. Then, one night, things…changed."

"What happened?"

Hans was silent for a long moment. Then he drew a deep breath.

"I dreamed about my mother. Happier times." His voice was quiet. "When I woke up I…tried to hang myself." Kristoff stirred. "I couldn't live with the knowledge of what she'd think of me, if she were still alive."

"But you didn't die."

He shook his head. "I don't know what happened. I woke up in the cell, and the jacket was gone, so I assume I blacked out and one of my brothers cut me down. I still don't know why; they definitely wanted me dead.…But after that point, I couldn't ignore the guilt I was feeling any longer. I had to own up to what I'd done or it would've eaten me alive. I don't think I fully succeeded—but, well, I didn't try to kill myself again, so…small victories, I suppose."

Kristoff watched him for a long moment. At last he said, "…You really do regret it, don't you. It's not an act."

Hans shook his head again. "I'm a good actor. But I don't think even I'm this good."

"And Anna?"

Hans opened and then closed his mouth. He gestured mutely. "What is there to say? What I did to her was…evil. Cruel."

"No kidding."

Hans didn't reply. Kristoff sighed through his nose and looked out at the frozen river again. "And you're in love with Elsa…"

"Justice," Hans said ironically. "The Furies themselves couldn't have devised better."

"I wasn't sure you had a conscience, after what you did to Anna."

"Believe me, I did everything in my power to shut it away." The prince shuddered. "And it came roaring back. With a vengeance."

"D'you wish it hadn't?"

Their eyes met. The man was demanding honesty, and after a grave pause, Hans shook his head. "An honest sense of self is worth any price. I don't think I'm a good man, Mr. Bjorgman, but at least I know that now. I can see clearly who I am." He looked away again, eyes downcast and distant. "And I know exactly who I am without it," he said darkly. "The only difference between me and my brothers is that I was lucky enough to get caught."

Kristoff nodded. They stood in silence until the moon had traced itself another quarter-hour through the sky, before the ice harvester straightened up. "Let's get some sleep," he said, jerking his head back toward the tent. "Long day tomorrow."

"Yes, of course." He followed the taller man back inside the tent. As he lay down on his cot, he realized he hadn't felt so at ease for a very, very long time.

As Kristoff reached for the lantern, he said, "Y'know, you're wrong about something."

"Am I?"

"I'm not sure you're a good man. But you're a better man than you were before."

Hans smiled ruefully. "Not hard to be."

"The way you describe it? Sure sounds like it was." Hans stared. "You made the choice to change when it wasn't easy and without expecting a reward," Kristoff continued. "That's something worth being proud of."

"…Thank you," the prince said softly. "Coming from a man like you, that…means a great deal."

And Kristoff, to Hans's surprise, gave him nod and and small, but genuine, smile. "No problem."

Then he blew out the lantern.