Chapter Twenty-Five
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.
When Elsa awoke the next morning, she looked hopefully out her window to see if perhaps the sun had returned. When she was met by the same perpetual dusky grayness as the day before, she sighed. She could practically feel the crushing weight of her kingdom on her shoulders, heavier than ever. She wondered if this was how her parents had felt for all those years, struggling to rule their nation as well as protect, however incorrectly, their small family. For a brief moment, she closed her eyes and pictured the late king and queen, hoping to gain some wisdom from their memories. She could imagine her father organizing the castle to host all the villagers for as long as possible, her mother tending to the families and maintaining the peace with her customary grace and patience.
With a sigh, the queen opened her eyes again. She was neither as experienced as her father nor as wise as her mother, and it baffled her how she could feel so much like a little child and yet so very old, both at the same time.
As there was nothing else for it, she pulled her exhausted self out of bed, got dressed, and went out to greet her people. The servants had already set up a food line in the great hall, distributing out bowls of hot stew and mugs of glog or water for breakfast. Hans was observing all this with a frown. "There are still too many families in here," he said as she approached him. "The younger children have been crying all night and the older ones are frightened, too. The infants are making it impossible for everyone else to get any rest and their parents are exhausted just trying to keep their children calm. Are you sure there are no more rooms in the castle?"
"None," she said wearily. "Every room except the library is occupied, and that's full of paperwork that got moved from other areas."
"There must be some way to make more space…and to think that my brothers and I are taking up thirteen rooms all on our own-" He stopped suddenly. "Of course."
"What?"
He didn't answer, instead hurrying off. "I'll speak to you later, Queen Elsa." He vanished into the crowds.
Elsa sighed and got in line for some breakfast. When she'd finished her stew and glog, she brought her dishes to the kitchen and thanked the cooks there for their hard work. The kitchens were hot and stuffy, so Elsa took to pacing about the castle, thinking. Thanks to the upcoming wedding, they had enough food to last the whole village several days just off what was prepared for the feast, and her father had always kept a large stockpile of ration food for situations such as this, a policy she had adopted. With that, the castle could probably support the village for a week at best. But any longer and people would start to go hungry. It didn't help matters that the ships from Corona had never arrived, nor any other trade ships, for that matter. And if this storm didn't let up…
She found that she'd walked herself all the way down one of the hallways and had stopped in front of the library doors at the end. She ducked inside and lit a candle, which she set on a nearby table next to several important-looking papers. She rifled through them, hoping to find something of use. Instead, all she came up with was a couple of bill proposals she had yet to look over and one of Kristoff's trade ledgers. Elsa let out a little noise of frustration and pushed her bangs out of her face, reaching up to undo her bun and let her braid fall down. No point in looking regal when everyone else was just as worried and miserable as she was.
Her head turned, startled, when she heard the heavy sound of footsteps—in fact, several pairs of footsteps, heading down the hallway outside. For a moment, she considered walking out to meet whoever it was, but something compelled her to hide behind a nearby bookshelf instead.
The doors to the library opened again, and through a small crack in the books, Elsa watched Hans and three of his elder brothers come in. "–For goodness' sake, this is a national emergency!" he snapped.
"Spare us, Hans." She recognized two of the brothers as Caspar and Duartr, the twins, though the third (who was speaking) took her a moment to remember—Balthazar, she thought. In the candlelight, the four figures cast flickering silhouettes on the bookshelf in front of her. "Clearly you're only trying to ingratiate yourself with the commoners."
"That has nothing to do with this," Hans snapped back. The candle's flame flared violently, making the shadows jump agitatedly on the books' spines. "This isn't some popularity contest; we need more space and I think the three of you can stand to share a room!"
"Don't you speak to us like you're above us," Balthazar spat. "We're still your superiors. You take our orders, not the other way around!"
"Is that so?" Hans retorted. "Then you can go tell that to the few hundred people in this castle looking to me to be their king!"
CRACK!
Elsa stifled a gasp as the tallest of the shadows backhanded the smallest across the face. Hans stumbled sideways, cupping his cheek and letting out a low grunt of pain. "Stop pretending you're some sort of hero," Balthazar hissed scornfully, features sharp and shattered in the sputtering candlelight. "Everyone knows you're nothing but a coward and a fool.
The queen watched noiselessly, keeping perfectly still. "You can walk around handing out food and blankets all you like, Hans," the man continued, "but no matter what you do, when those people look at you, all they'll ever see is a murderer. You're not their king. You're nothing but a traitor. Do you understand?"
Hans didn't answer, his head bowed low and eyes fixed on the ground. The older brother let out a low "heh" and turned to the other two. "Come on; let's go."
Elsa pulled herself further behind the books as they passed by her, and then peeked through the crack again. She watched as Hans's eyes never left the floor until the doors clicked shut. Then, his gaze grew furious, eyes narrowed and teeth gritted in that way that instantly negated his better features. His hands curled into fists, and in one swift motion, he turned to the table and swept everything off the top: books, papers, still-burning candle and all. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took one slow breath and then a second, trying to calm himself, before he realized the candle had started the carpet on fire.
"Fantastic," he muttered, hurriedly bending down and trying to pat out the little flames. Unfortunately, all that really seemed to do was spread the fire around. Elsa stepped out from behind the shelf and quickly covered it with a miniature blizzard, effectively quelling the flames.
He started to his feet and turned around. "Y-your Majesty." He looked to the door, which was still closed, and then back to her. "How much did you…" She didn't answer, and he looked away. "Everything. Of course."
"Hans," she began, as he tried to hurry past her.
"If you'll pardon me, I have matters to attend to–"
"That cheek is going to bruise if you don't take care of it," she said sharply. That gave the prince pause, and she softened her tone. "Sit down."
He hesitated, and then did as told, moving out one of the chairs from beside the table. Elsa pulled up a chair of her own and waved her hand above the table, forming a small, clear bowl of ice filled with water. She reached into the small pocket in the folds of her dress and pulled out a handkerchief, which she dipped into the ice-water. Hans watched as she wrung it out and folded it.
"Let me see," Elsa said calmly, turning his head gently by the chin. Her stomach twisted uncomfortably; his whole cheek was red, and she could already see blood welling up under the skin in purplish bruise spots where Balthazar's knuckles had struck. He seemed to have split Hans's lip, as well, which was welling up with blood. She dabbed at his mouth with the kerchief, pausing when he winced, and then pressed the cool cloth to the prince's cheek.
"…Thank you," Hans muttered as he took the cloth himself, clearly embarrassed.
"You shouldn't let them do this to you," she told him firmly, anger edging her voice.
He gave a cynical snort. "And what do you suggest I do? Ask them nicely?"
"They have no right to treat you like this!" Elsa said fiercely as she stood. "You should stand up for yourself, you should've-"
"I should've what?" he demanded harshly, getting to his feet. "Fought back? Why? They're right!" They glared at each other for a moment, and then Hans sighed and looked away. "They're right," he repeated bitterly. "Everyone here knows it—especially you."
"I–"
"Tell me, Elsa, if they're wrong, why didn't you show yourself sooner?"
She opened her mouth, but found she couldn't answer. Hans gave one short, curt nod. "That's what I thought." He brushed past her, throwing the handkerchief down on the table.
"Hans, wait-" But he'd already opened and walked out the door. Uncertain what to do, Elsa followed.
It was not until she reached the great hall that she found him again, standing at the edge of the crowded room. There was anger in his eyes, but it wasn't directed at her. As he surveyed the room, filled with frightened children, worn-out parents, the old, the poor and the homeless, a fire seemed to build up in him. Before she could approach him and demand an explanation, he walked straight through the middle of the room and up to the food line, in which his eldest brother, King Agnar, was standing.
"Your Majesty," he said loudly, giving a much deeper bow than Elsa was certain he usually used, "I do hope you'll pardon this unexpected turn of events."
Agnar raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Well, I'm sure we can manage."
"Your generosity on the matter is most welcome—as is the patience of all these good men and women," he said, gesturing around the great hall. "These people are facing such trying circumstances, what with being displaced from their homes and land." Several of the people murmured their agreement. "Recently," Hans continued, "an idea struck me that perhaps, should you and the rest of my brothers agree to share rooms, we could move a few more families into more private quarters. As a king yourself, surely you can understand why I, the future ruler of these people, would make such a request."
Agnar glanced around. Every eye in the great hall was on him, watching expectantly. He looked back at Hans with a dangerous glint in his eye. Hans's contained a triumphant gleam, for both he and Agnar knew that the king couldn't turn down such a request without seeming incredibly heartless to the Arendellian people.
"Naturally." Agnar's voice was anything but happy. "We would be most honored to aid Arendelle in her time of need."
"Wonderful. Excuse me, Gerda, Kai," he said, catching the two head servants as they walked by. "If you could please set up four of my brothers' rooms to hold all twelve?"
"Certainly, Prince Hans," Kai agreed, as Agnar walked off, clearly in a bad mood. "But don't you mean all thirteen?"
"No; prepare my room for the use of one of these families, as well. I'll be fine sleeping down here." This he said in a lower tone, not wanting to draw attention to the fact.
"Hans, you don't have to do that," Elsa said in surprise.
"I don't mind; it wouldn't feel right, anyway."
"Really, you don't-"
"Elsa," he cut her off. "I slept on a wooden bench for a year and a half; I'll be fine."
It was the first time he'd said a word in public about his eighteen-month-long stint in the Southern dungeons, and it startled Elsa that he was suddenly being so forward about it. Drawing herself up, she said to Gerda, "Prince Hans has made a wonderful suggestion; I'll sleep down here, as well."
"But m'Lady–"
"I want to be with my people." A look of understanding dawned on the housekeeper's face. "Move any of my paperwork out of my room and onto my desk in the library, if you would. And ask the Princess and Sir Kristoff about it, as well; they may be willing to make the switch, as well."
"Of course, your Majesty," Gerda said, hurrying away with Kai close behind.
Elsa smirked at Hans. "That," she said, "was brilliantly done."
"I've had enough of my brothers' pompous attitudes. These people take precedence," he said with annoyance. As he glanced at her, her eyes found the blooming red imprint of a hand on his skin. His cheek was quickly turning an ugly purplish-yellow in patches, and Hans's own hand rose almost instinctively to cover it. An awkward pause passed during which he decisively avoided her eyes, and then he cleared his throat. "Excuse me, your Majesty." And again, he left.
The day had passed with a dull sense of quiet dread, which weighed heavily on everyone in the castle. Elsa was exhausted, having spent her waking hours running through the halls from room to room, from the great hall to the barracks, from the washroom to the kitchens and then back again. The castle, which had once seemed enormous to the queen who'd rarely seen any of it save her room and the dining hall, now seemed incredibly small and claustrophobically full of people.
She'd never thought she would say it, but she was beyond grateful for the presence of a certain auburn-haired prince. Hans had taken care of any number of requests and royal duties that normally would have fallen on her shoulders, handling the sorting of different families and ensuring that everyone had been fed and supplied with firewood for their rooms. He'd placated any angry nobility with that silver tongue and had even gone to the liberty of writing up a rations sheet, detailing how much they had and how long they could survive off it. Despite his good intentions, his estimations were far too meager to help her mood. Now she was sitting in her throne, feeling absolutely beaten with fatigue, watching the prince go from family to family and quietly check on their well-being. She could still see the purplish marks of the bruise on his face, but he hardly seemed to pay them any mind. Whenever anyone asked, he dismissed it with a laugh and a vague allusion to an angry citizen, and skillfully changed the subject. Anger bubbled in the queen's stomach as again she thought of Balthazar so carelessly striking him. What a sickening way to treat one's own sibling! Why, if anyone ever dared to do that to Anna…
"Elsa? Hey, Elsa?"
"What?" She started and looked down. Olaf was standing at her feet. "Oh. Olaf, I'm sorry, did you say something?"
"Uh-huh."
She paused, waiting a moment before she remembered that one had to be direct with the snowman. "…Well, what did you say?"
"I asked if you were okay."
"Oh. I'm alright, Olaf, I-" She yawned. "I'll be fine."
"What were you looking at?" he said, interested. "You were kind of staring off at nothing, so…"
"Hm? Oh, um…" She trailed off, uncertain what to say. "I don't remember."
"You were looking over that way." He snapped his twig fingers. "I know! Were you looking at Hans?"
She opened her mouth, and then closed it again and nodded awkwardly.
"Ooh! I guessed it! I guessed it!" Elsa was grateful that he didn't ask why she'd been staring at the prince. "Gee, he's really good at this stuff, did you know that? Making sure everyone's okay. But he's tired, I think," Olaf said frankly. "He keeps sitting down, like he wants to rest, but then someone else needs something and he gets up again."
"He's working so hard," Elsa murmured, frowning in confusion. "I don't understand why."
"Well he's going to be king, right? So maybe he's trying to show that he can be a good one, not a bad one."
The Queen looked down at the snowman in surprise. "…Yes," she said finally. "Yes, that must be it."
But it couldn't be, and she knew that, because Hans wasn't going to be king, at least not a king anywhere near here. And he'd told his brothers that he wasn't trying to earn the villagers' support… so what was he trying to prove? And to whom?
"You look tired, too," Olaf said, cutting into her thoughts. "You should go to bed."
"I can't," she said wearily. "What if someone needs my help?"
The snowman shrugged as best a snowman could and nodded to the prince. "I think he's got it."
She hesitated, and then nodded with a sigh. "Maybe you're right, Olaf; I think I'll turn in for the night."
"Okay. Goodnight, Elsa."
"Goodnight, Olaf." She stood and walked over to her pallet and blanket. All around her, people were quieting down for the evening, and listening to them, Elsa realized that she didn't feel much like a queen. She just felt tired—tired and very, very worried.
Soon enough her worry gave way into exhaustion, and she found herself absently watching flames of the fire dance gold in front of her eyes, blurring, fading into a wash of yellow and gold, and then to a deep, quiet darkness…
"Elsa?"
She turned, startled. Hans was looking at her, confused. "Are you listening?"
"Hm? Oh. I'm sorry," she apologized. "I guess I was a little lost in thought."
"Must have been some thought," he commented. She chuckled. "What was it about?"
She frowned a little at that, looking around. The garden was quiet save for the sound of crickets in the green night, and what sounded like strains of a waltz wafted in from some ways away, as if there were a party going on back inside the palace. "…That's strange. I can't quite remember." She paused again, and then shook herself slightly. "What were we talking about?"
He smiled—really it was a charming smile, Elsa decided. "I was just mentioning how utterly stunning you are tonight."
She ducked her head and smoothed her dress, trying not to blush. Well, it was true—she did look lovely. Her gown was perfect, all palest blue and sheer chiffon, modest yet flattering and showing off her pale shoulders. It seemed she'd let her hair down for a change, and even as she noticed it, she felt the prince reach up and run his fingers through it. Her heart leapt wildly, and she looked up again.
"May I?" Hans requested softly.
Her mouth seemed to have become incapable of forming coherent speech (or any noise at all, for that matter), so she merely nodded. The prince touched her cheek gently with his thumb and leaned in. She closed her eyes instinctively as she felt the tip of his nose brush hers.
"Elsa?!"
She started and turned. Anna was staring at her, a look of utter hurt and accusation blooming across her expression. "Anna-" the queen said quickly, standing up, but the princess cut her off.
"Him, Elsa?! I can't believe you! I thought you were my sister, I thought you loved me!"
"Please, just let me explain-"
"No! You betrayed me, Elsa! I never want to talk to you again; just leave me alone!" She whirled around and began to run away.
"Anna, wait!" The queen stretched out her hand to her sister, but even as she did so, a blast of ice flew from her fingertips, striking Anna in the back- right above the heart.
"No!" Elsa cried, rushing forward. Anna turned just in time to see her.
"Elsa… how could you?" she breathed, and then her face froze over to icy blue.
"No! A-Anna!" The queen threw herself upon the statue of her sister, weeping, her sobs echoing through the frozen fjords. Time had stilled, gray-white snow suspended, again that awful moment, that harsh truth that Anna was dead, she had killed her own sister…
"Well, isn't this just precious?" She looked back through tear-filled eyes and saw Hans leering at the two, clad in his gray overcoat and his hand on the hilt of his sword. "Really, it's quite charming. Fitting, even."
"No, please-" Elsa begged as he drew the weapon, holding her frozen sister all the tighter in a futile effort to protect her.
"Two royals," Hans said with gloating satisfaction, "with one sword." He plunged the blade forward.
Elsa choked on her scream as she sat up, grasping at her abdomen and tears running down her face—in fear, in horror, in absolute guilt and agony. She could feel the ice slipping out of her control, into the floor, and she scrambled to her feet. Run, run, the little voice taunted her. Run before it happens again! Kill Anna or leave her behind, you'll hurt her no matter what you do.
She scrambled to obey, stumbling to her feet and running for the door without really looking where she was going. She tripped over a sleeping villager and slammed into the shoulder of a man, nearly knocking him down. This only made her panic heighten, and she pushed him out of the way and ran faster, out into the hall, slamming the doors, feet pounding on the carpet until she found herself completely alone and in the dark. Run away, little Queen, the voice hissed all the more menacingly, and if Elsa had been able to think straight she may have realized that it was her own. Run away like the coward you are. That's all you could ever do, Elsa, that's the only thing you're good at: being alone.
She let out a strangled, sob-like noise at the thought. The frost that had followed her with every footstep had turned into snow, snow that was beginning to whirl around her. "No, no, please," she begged through her tears, trying to pull her hands in close. No gloves. She had no gloves! Nothing to control her, nothing to help her, and the snow was swirling faster and faster–
"Elsa!"
A voice cut through the winds, and she turned. A man was trying to fight his way through the snow. "Stay away, just stay away!" she pleaded, trying to back away. She barely had time to remember that her ice had coated the whole floor before her foot slipped, and she fell with a sharp cry. The winds were screaming, her panic whipping them like a whirlpool, and she couldn't stand, couldn't even breathe–
"Elsa, calm down!" She felt two arms wrap around her, and her desperation to escape crumbled as she clung to the man out of desperation, sobbing into his shoulder out of sheer terror.
Hans had always been startled by physical contact with the Queen, and now was no different. From that fateful day two summers ago when he'd carried her unconscious form back to Arendelle on his horse, to this moment here in the corridor, he'd always expected her to feel…ethereal, somehow, like snow melting away. Instead she was, as always, tangible and real and altogether human. A human woman weeping into his arms as if she'd lost her best friend.
Her sobs contained words now, and he managed to make them out: "Don't leave me, please don't leave me alone…"
"I'm not," he said reassuringly. "I'm right here." It was ironic, somehow, that not a minute before this she had been begging him to go away, and now she was holding on to him in a vice grip, terrified of letting go.
She's not yours, the little voice inside him hissed. She will never be yours, Hans. And he knew the voice was telling the truth and that he was being foolish, but he couldn't help himself because something about it just felt so right, pretending that she was his to care for, his to provide for and protect. "Everything's alright," he continued calmly, knowing that the last thing she needed was for him to sound afraid. "Everything is going to be fine. You just need to calm down."
"B-but–"
"Think of your sister. Your family." His embrace grew tighter as the winds roared louder. "Think of them, Elsa! And breathe. Slow breaths."
She managed one, and then another. Anna. Think of Anna. Kristoff. Olaf. Mama and Papa. She chanted this over and over again as Hans held her, and somehow it seemed to work, because he was warm and strong and for once, she felt safe, safe from the powers that could be so destructive and dangerous and that try as she might, she couldn't always control. Elsa heard the winds die down and felt the snow settle in flakes on her cool skin. When she opened her eyes, she was surrounded by windswept snowdrifts, but the blizzard had disappeared.
Slowly, she let out a shaky breath. "Thank you," she told him honestly, pulling away. "How did you find me? Did I wake you up?
"I'm a light sleeper." He hesitated, and then said, "…It wasn't real, alright? You didn't kill her."
Her eyes widened. "How did you-?"
"Call it intuition." When she didn't reply, he nodded towards the end of the corridor. "Anna's asleep right now in the great hall, Elsa. She's fine."
"I know," she said wearily. "I know, I just…" She bit her lip hard against the tears burning again behind her eyes. "…She almost died," she said softly.
"Elsa, you are not at fault for anything that happened that day!" Hans said emphatically.
"I froze her heart!" she retorted. "I nearly killed my own sister!"
"An action which would have had no effect if I hadn't locked her in a study to die," he shot back. "You can't put that sort of culpability on yourself; if it hadn't been for my actions, she would have found Kristoff, had that 'true love's kiss' she was so excited about, and everything would have been fine. The only person at fault that day was me."
"I ran away!"
He paused. "Well. You're not running away now, are you?"
Elsa gulped down a sob. "Wh-what?"
"You're the only person in this castle who has the option of leaving. If you wanted to, you could leave all of this—the stress, the responsibility, the uncertainty…" He gripped her shoulder. "But you haven't. Elsa, you are a good queen."
"N-Not as good as…"
"As who?" She drew a breath and didn't answer. "Me?" Hans demanded. "You're joking."
"You t-took care of them…"
"And so are you. Elsa, listen to me…" He sat down beside her. "I…would not have made a good king, any more than Anna would have made a good queen." She gave him an affronted look, and he held up his hands. "Anna is a thoroughly moral person. I am a thoroughly practical one. Either alone is not enough to run a kingdom; a good monarch needs both. Elsa, you have both. You're handling all of this—the storm, the political crisis, all of it—quite magnificently. And you haven't tried to assassinate any foreign nobility," he pointed out, "so you've already got two up on me." Elsa chuckled weakly despite herself and mopped her eyes. "Besides, you know the remedy for a frozen heart now, remember?"
That was right, Elsa realized. She did know how to cure a frozen heart. If, Heaven forbid, anyone was ever struck by her powers again, it could be easily fixed. Especially if said person were Anna—Anna, who loved and was loved by everyone. Still, as reasonable as his logic was, it was not enough to quell Elsa's fears. "…But what if I hurt her again?" she whispered, for the first time voicing the fears she'd kept hidden down for months on end.
"Elsa, listen to me," Hans told her gently. "Whatever this nightmare may have seemed to be, you have to remember that it was just an illusion. Your sister knows that you would never try to hurt her." He put a hand on her shoulder, forcing her to look at him, and she saw that he was being sincere. "Anna doesn't blame you for what happened, so neither should you blame yourself."
The warmth of his hand despite the chill of the air seemed to bring her back to reality, and Elsa let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "You're right. Anna's fine… it was just a nightmare."
"Exactly," he said reassuringly. "And as to this-" He gestured around the snow-covered room, "-you don't need to worry about this, either. You had a bad dream, you've been incredibly stressed… you know how to control your powers, Elsa. You just need to remember that." He stood up and offered her a hand. "Come on. Let's get you back to bed."
He helped her up, and after she thawed the frozen hallway, he led her back over into the other room. At any other time, Elsa would have shaken off the protective hand he kept on her shoulder, but as it was, she was grateful for the human contact. He let go as they approached her pallet beside the fire and stood a respectful few feet away as she lay down again. "Try to get some more rest," he advised her. "The last thing we need is for you to be exhausted tomorrow."
"Of course. And, again… thank you," she said sincerely.
He smiled slightly and gave a brief nod. As he started to walk away, she recalled suddenly that she'd knocked into someone, a male someone, on her way into the hall. "Hans?" she said on impulse. He glanced back, surprised. "…Did I really wake you up?"
His expression was inscrutable, but she thought his green eyes, reflecting the deep scarlet light of the fire, seemed a little ironic. "Go to sleep, Elsa," he said, and then turned and walked away.