Chapter Twenty-Six

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.

The crowded castle was busy with activity. It was nearing dinnertime, from what it seemed, and the whole village was eager to receive their rations. The queen herself was passing out bread rolls, while the princess made her way around the hall with a small team of maids carrying hot glog, reassuring the citizens as she went. The prince came and went at a quick pace, speaking with the nobles, while the ice harvester checked in on the farming families.

It wasn't just the royalty who were trying to keep up good cheer, either; children, though frightened, strove to be as helpful as they could, the elder among them keeping the younger from growing unhappy, and all the parents did their best to shield their young ones from their own worry. Neighbors greeted each other kindly in an effort to keep up hope, and life continued on as normally as possible in the crowded castle.

The Snow Queen glowered as she waved a hand in front of the mirror, and the image of the Great Hall vanished from its reflection. "These mortals are incorrigible!" she spat, pacing away as her own reflection returned to the glass. "A disaster of these proportions should have worked perfectly! People turning on each other, looking out for their own good- a wonderful cacophony of selfishness and greed! And instead they band together like ignorant little children playing a war game- blast them!"

"You have failed," her reflection said coolly.

"I haven't failed yet," the Snow Queen hissed. "There is darkness in them- there is darkness in everyone- and I will find it."

"Of course it is there, but will you find it in time? The mortals seem to be outsmarting you."

"They can hardly outwit something they don't even know exists," she said dismissively.

"You were once outwitted by a little girl without shoes and boy who liked mathematics. This queen is powerful and her friends have skills of their own; moreover, the prince could very easily discover his own abilities at any moment. I wouldn't underestimate them."

"Well the very least you could do is provide a helpful suggestion," the Snow Queen said irritably.

"If you are looking for advice, I have only this: more tension. More stress. Give them more pressing opportunities to show their true natures, to bring out their selfishness and anger."

"Hm…" She seemed to consider this, and then waved her hand in front of the mirror. Her reflection vanished, and she saw a man with a sledge and two reindeer, leading his small family through the swirling snows. "Yes," she cooed, smiling coldly. "Yes, indeed. Selfishness. I will make them selfish." She waved her hand, and a miniature oak tree, formed entirely of clear ice, appeared in her palm. With a flick of her wrist, it shattered and fell to the floor.

"Come on, boys. Just- just a little ways further, I promise."

The beasts groaned in disapproval, and the man looked back at his family, shielding his eyes from the blowing snow with his gloved hands. For more than three days they'd been lost in these woods, ever since the blizzard had overtaken them just after they'd come over the ridge of a large mountain to the north. Standing on the snowy peaks, he'd been able to see a small town not so far below, houses with chimney stacks puffing out smoke from warm fires within. They'd been so close, so close…

And now, he had no idea if they were anywhere near the town anymore, or if they'd passed it by somehow. His mind worked frantically as he trudged through the knee-length drifts. They were out of food; he and his wife had gone hungry the last two days to feed the little ones, and now even that was gone. If he didn't find shelter soon, they'd either starve or freeze to death.

His reindeer stumbled and skidded as they went over a small ridge in the land, ending up in what appeared to be some sort of clearing. The man tripped over a hidden tree root and fell flat in the snow.

He almost gave up then, exhausted and hopeless, ready to turn to his wife and tell her sorrowfully that they'd never find the town, that he'd doomed his small family to die out here in the icy darkness.

But then… but then, he felt it: the way the ground, far beneath the snow, was even and flat, the way the earth started up and away from it, as if the area had been cut into the ground. His eyes peered through the blowing snows, and he saw how the trees cut through in straight lines on either side. Why, this was no mere clearing, this was a-

"A path!" he shouted out jubilantly. "I found a path!" And a well-used one, too, looking at the size. He started to lead his animals forward once again, with renewed vigor. The reindeer, however, had had enough, pulling and resisting at the reigns. Quickly, his wife handed the baby to their small daughter on the sled behind the reindeer and began to help him pull them through. They were going to make it, the man thought. They were going to be all right!

CRRRACK!

A twisting, screeching noise echoed from overhead. The man's eyes went wide, and he saw, like a looming shadow, something large and long falling out of the sky.

He tried to grab for his daughter on the back of the sled, but the tree crashed to the ground in front of him, knocking him over. Stars danced in front of his eyes. When he could see straight again, he scrambled to his feet. "Áile!" he shouted against the winds, scrambling back to where the sled had flipped over, the tree crushing it. He could hear the baby wailing, but he could not see his daughter. "Áile!"

"Papa!" he heard a frightened voice call back, and his shoulders slumped in relief. A second later, he began to panic again as he realized his daughter, while unharmed, was trapped underneath the sled. "Papa, help! Help!"

He tried desperately to lift the tree as his wife rescued their howling infant son from a nearby snowdrift (the girl had accidentally let go when the tree had fallen), but it was too heavy. "We need to go get help!" his wife told him.

"We can't leave her!"

"We have no choice! She's trapped; if we don't find help, she won't survive!"

Realizing that she was right, he bent down again beside the overturned sled. "We're going to find help, Áile!"

"Papa, I'm scared!" she sobbed.

"We'll be back! I promise!"

"Papa!"

"I promise," he repeated again, voice breaking, and then unhitched the reindeer from the twisted lines and hopped on the nearest one. His wife climbed aboard the second, holding her infant son tightly in her arms. The man snapped the reins, praying that somehow he could keep his promise. "Kyah!"

"You folks okay? Got everything you need?"

"We're fine, Sir Bjorgman," the family's mother reassured him. "Please, tell the princess and the queen how grateful we are for their generosity- and for yours as well, of course."

"Don't worry about it; we're happy to do it," the blond man said reassuringly. "Well, if you need anything, just let someone know."

"We will. Thank you."

He walked away, nearly bumping into Hans. "Oh, hey. Everyone okay upstairs?

"They're all fine. Down here?"

"They're making do. Did you thank that duke of wherever for agreeing to pay off the family's house that fell in?"

"I did. He said to think nothing of it."

Kristoff nodded. "Nothing like a natural disaster to bring all sorts together, huh?"

"Isn't that the truth," Hans said with an ironic chuckle.

"Hans! Kristoff!"

Both turned as Anna came running up to them. "Anna?" Kristoff said, startled.

"Come quick! A family just got here!"

The two glanced at each other, baffled, and hurried after the princess, down the stairs and into the entry hall. Anna stopped at the gates, through which the guards had just let in a man, his wife and an infant. The family looked exhausted, and what parts of their clothes weren't covered in snow were soaked, reindeer-hide tunics. A group of people, peasants and nobility alike, had gathered around in surprise. Kristoff's eyes went wide as he watched the man try to speak desperately with the guard in a foreign tongue.

"Who are they?" Hans asked Elsa, who was standing nearby.

"Sámi herdsmen, if their clothes and animals are anything to judge by. They just arrived a few minutes ago."

"Where are you from?" one of the nearby noblemen, whom Hans recognized as Lord Finnmork, snapped angrily, grabbing at the man's shoulder. The man whirled around, startled. "You aren't from around here!"

The man knocked the lord's hand away, snapping something back. The nobleman's eyes went wide, affronted. "How dare you! Why, we ought to throw you back out in the storm!"

"We'll do no such thing; they'd never survive out there," Elsa said firmly.

"Your Majesty, we barely have enough food for our own people; we can't afford to waste it on barbarians!"

Kristoff's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Say that again," he spat, starting forward.

"Kristoff," Elsa said sharply, and the ice harvester stopped, though he still glared ferociously at the nobleman. "Thank you," she said evenly, and then turned to the nobleman and said with severity, "Lord Finnmork, these 'barbarians,' as you call them, are human beings. We're in a state of emergency; we are not about to turn anyone out into the snows, especially not women and children!"

He shrank back, seeing the fire in her eyes. "Yes, your Majesty," he muttered.

"Very good. Now, does anyone know what's happened to them?"

"No, your Majesty, nobody speaks their language," one of the guards responded.

"I do," Kristoff said. Several of the people turned to look at him again, and he flushed red. "I mean, I might. There are different dialects and stuff, and I don't even know if I remember it all."

"Do you think you could speak to them?" Elsa said urgently.

"I could try." He approached the family and said what sounded to Elsa like: "Gos don leat eret?" The father of the family, recognizing his own language, quickly began to reply, so fast that Kristoff had to stop him and ask him to slow down. The father nodded and began to speak again, slower this time. After several minutes of back-and-forth, Kristoff nodded, seemed to make some assurance to the man, and then turned back to Elsa.

"They're from the north; they've been traveling for over a week, trying to stay ahead of the storm."

"More than a week? Where are their supplies?"

"He said their sled tipped over out on the trail, probably the same one that leads out to the mountain. They have a daughter; she's alive, but she's trapped under their sled," he said urgently.

Anna's eyes went wide. "Then someone needs to go get her!"

"Not just 'someone'; me," Elsa said grimly, turning to the guard. "Ready my horse."

"Elsa, you can't!" Anna practically begged.

"I'm the only one with a chance of surviving that storm if I get lost out there; it's too big of a risk for anyone else."

"You don't know the way; let me go with you," Kristoff urged.

"No, Kristoff; I need you to stay here with them. They may have more information about the storm, and you're the only person who can understand them."

"Then I'll go," Hans volunteered.

"What? No. Absolutely not."

"Elsa, he's right, you don't know the way," Hans argued. "And more to the point, you need someone to help you ride."

"I am perfectly capable of riding a horse on my own," she said, affronted.

"I have yet to see anyone ride off alone in a blizzard and have it end well," he said bluntly. "And someone has to hold you on the horse. You'll need your hands free to keep the storm at bay; you'll never be able to find your way if you can't see two feet in front of your nose."

As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. "Fine," she agreed grudgingly. The guard had returned with her horse, and she took a deep breath, closing her eyes. She moved her hands as if forming a ball out of clay, and then turned them outward, extending them one inch at a time. When they were finally as wide as she could put them, she stepped out into the swirling snows.

Everyone's eyes went wide as the snow seemed to move around her in a spherical pattern, never touching the queen. Hans was the first to recover, stepping into the empty space beyond the door. He lifted Elsa onto the horse, and then took the lantern the other guard held out to him and climbed on after her. Elsa tried to ignore the feeling of his arm bracing her protectively around her waist, holding the reigns in that hand while he lifted the lantern with the other. "We'll be back as soon as we can," Hans told the rest. "Give this family warm food and make sure they're comfortable, do you understand?"

"Yes, your Highness," the guards answered.

Hans gave a sharp nod and then spurred the horse. He and Elsa quickly rode off into the night.

The gallop pace at which they had started had deteriorated into a slow walk as the fjord horse trudged its way through the snow. Elsa's hands were still up, but they had fallen a few inches, as had the sphere. "Are you doing alright?" Hans asked her.

"Fine," she said, but her voice sounded tired. Inside the little pocket of air it was surprisingly quiet, despite the winds swirling around them a few feet away on every side. "How far are we?"

"Not far now; we're out of the town," Hans said, trying to peer through the snow. Suddenly, the horse stopped, prancing back nervously. "What is it, boy?" The horse whinnied, and Hans got off, urging it forward a little further. The horse stopped again and pulled back, and then Hans saw what was frightening the beast. Into the light of the lantern he was holding came a fallen tree, brought to the ground by the wind and the weight of the snow in its upper branches. And there, underneath the tree-

"Elsa!" Hans called back. "We've found it!" He knelt down quickly and set the lantern on the ground, peering under the sled. A small form was curled up underneath. "Hello? Are you awake?"

For one horrible second, there was nothing, no sound at all. Then, he saw the girl shift, and he let out a sigh of relief. "Good."

"Áhčči?" the girl murmured sleepily.

"I'm sorry, I wish I could answer," Hans muttered. "Don't worry; you'll be back with your parents soon, I promise." He studied the situation. The tree had fallen right across the path, but somehow the sled had tipped over to protect her. He tried to lift it off, but it was too heavy. "Elsa!" he called.

"What?!"

"I need you to use your ice to lift the tree!"

She turned to him and tried to extend a hand to shoot out her ice, but as she moved her hand the sphere of emptiness around them shrank. She quickly put her hand back up again to enlarge it back to its original size. "If I try I'll lose my concentration! The sphere will collapse!"

"Couldn't you make another one?"

"I don't know! If I let go then I might not be able to bring it back!"

Hans closed his eyes, thinking. "Do it," he ordered, opening them again.

Her own blue eyes went wide. "Hans, if we get lost out here you could freeze to death!"

"If we don't help her then she definitely will! Do it, Elsa!"

The Queen grimaced, clearly in debate. Then in one decisive swoop, she pointed her hand in his direction.

As a pillar of ice formed to lift the sled, the sphere disappeared, and the snow swept in around them again, winds howling. Hans reached under the sled and pulled the girl out. She was very young, no more than six at oldest, with dark features and blue woolen clothing. Her dress was stiff with ice; no doubt the child's own warmth had melted the snow, and then as her body temperature dropped it had refrozen again inside the dress, encasing her in a icy shell.

He had to get her warm. For a split second he hesitated, and then unbuttoned his own woolen coat and wrapped it around the girl. He picked her up and brought her over to the Queen, who instantly noticed what he'd done. "Hans, your coat!"

He waved this aside. "I'll be fine; my jacket's warm enough." That was a downright lie; the icy winds cut through the thin material like a jackknife, chilling him to the bone. But Elsa didn't need to know that. "Just try to make another sphere!"

He watched as she cupped her hands. The snow started to move around a space in the center like a ball, but every time it got as big as a foot across, the sphere fizzled and died. She tried again and again, to no avail.

"I can't!" she cried. "I'm trying, but I can't do it!"

Hans swore inwardly and closed his eyes. Alright Hans, think. What do you have? Not a whole lot, if truth be told: a sick child, an ice queen whose powers had gone on the fritz, himself and a horse-

The horse. Of course; why hadn't he thought of it before? "How long have you had this horse?" he demanded.

"What?!"

"The horse! How long has he been at the castle?!"

"Hans, I really don't think—!"

"Just answer the question!"

She closed her eyes, thinking back. "I don't know—a few years maybe? But what–"

"Take her," he ordered. Quickly Elsa reached forward, and he handed her the girl, still wrapped in his coat. "Men can wander around for days and never find a trail, but a lost horse always finds its way home," he shouted into the winds, picking up the lantern and climbing up onto the saddle.

"Even in a snowstorm?!" she demanded.

His expression was grim. "I guess we'll find out." He took the reins loosely in his free hand, his arm steadying Elsa and the girl so that they wouldn't fall off. Hoping to God that he was right, he snapped the reins and spurred the horse. "Hahp!"

The royal guards hurried back from their windows as they spotted the lantern light glimmering through the swirling snows, hurrying up the road. "It's the Queen and Prince Hans!" they shouted. "They've returned!"

Several more were present to greet the pair as the horse thundered through the gates. Hans managed to pull the horse to a stop, but the whole trio was nearly tipped off as the frightened stallion reared. The guards managed to calm it down enough to let them off.

"Take him to the stables," Hans ordered. He was covered in snow and soaked to the bone, but the prince hardly seemed to notice. The Sámi family hurried over with Kristoff and Anna in tow.

"Here," Elsa said, handing the father the gray bundle in her arms. The man pulled away the thick layers of cloth to reveal his daughter. Eyes filled with tears, he looked up and said something in his own language.

"He's thanking you for saving her life," Kristoff translated.

"Thank Prince Hans; he was the one who gave her his coat," she replied.

Kristoff explained this back. The man looked past her to the redheaded prince and spoke again. Kristoff added, "He says that he's then, uh, 'indebted,' I think, to both of you."

"No thanks necessary; any decent person would have done the same," Hans replied.

Kristoff again repeated this, and the man smiled and nodded. He turned and said something to his wife, and they quickly took the girl off to the side, laying her down by the fire. Kristoff followed them, making sure they had proper provisions for the girl.

Elsa looked over at Hans, her interest piqued. "'No thanks necessary?'" she quoted.

"I didn't want him thinking-" A shudder ran through him suddenly, and he sat down heavily in a nearby chair next to the fire.

"Hans!" Elsa said, startled. "Are you alright?"

"I-" He couldn't finish, and she realized he'd gone a deathly pale and had started to shiver. "I'm f-fine."

"You're not fine," the Queen admonished. "You there!" She flagged down a maid. "Bring us a blanket. And something warm to drink."

"Yes, m'lady." She hurried away quickly, leaving Elsa to fret and worry.

"You said you were alright without your coat!" she reproved him.

He grimaced and shivered again. "Y-you should know by now, E-Elsa, that I'm not exactly the p-p-poster child for h-honesty."

The maid had returned with the blanket and a mug of piping cider. "Here," Elsa said, handing the cup to him as the maid quickly wrapped him in the blanket. "Drink up."

Despite the fact that the cup was steaming with heat, Hans downed it in just a few gulps, looking a little less frigid and pale when he'd finished. "Th-thank you," he stammered with relief. "That's much better." He made as if to stand.

"Oh no you don't. Sit down," she commanded, tone halfway between a queenly ruler and a nagging wife. "You're staying right here by the fire until you've warmed up again."

"Yes, dear," Hans said with a sarcastic chuckle, but it quickly turned into a cough.

"That's what I thought. Drink some more cider; I'll be back to check on you soon." She walked away, going to speak with the family. Hans watched her, entirely unaware of the distant, contented smile that was spreading across his face. He couldn't say he enjoyed being nagged, but there was something about being nagged by Elsa that was at once very attractive and incredibly endearing. If there was one thing he'd learned about the Arendellian queen, it was that she was fiercely protective of her friends and her people.

"I saw that."

He started and looked over. Anna was watching him, brow furrowed. "Saw what?" he asked, glancing over to where Elsa was still talking with the family. He couldn't help but watch as she inquired as to the their wellbeing, brushing a stray strand of platinum blonde hair behind her ear as her cerulean eyes narrowed in concern.

"That! That right there! You're smiling," Anna said frankly. "Do you… like her or something?"

Hans's mouth opened, and he struggled for something to say. "No! Of course not."

"You hesitated," she asserted.

"Don't be ridiculous," he huffed. "You're imagining things-"

"Oh, stop it. I saw that look in your eyes. So." She sat down in the chair beside him. "You're in love with Elsa, huh?"

He grimaced and let out a sigh through his nose. "…I… I'm somewhat… fond of her."

Her eyes, surprisingly, lit up. "No way, really?"

"You're not angry?" She shook her head. "Why not?" he asked, unable to keep the suspicion out of his voice.

Anna chewed her lip. "Listen. You're not off the hook, so to speak, but—well, I said I'd give you the chance to prove I can start trusting you. And you have." She gestured around the castle. "You've taken good care of our people. You just risked icy death to save a little girl you don't even know." Hans blushed, proud despite himself. "I'm not saying I'm hugely fond of the idea, but I'm not one to stand in the way of true love." She shrugged. "So. Have you told Elsa?"

"No- And Anna, please, you mustn't say anything," he practically begged. "Elsa can't know."

"Why not?" the princess said, baffled. "I mean, sure, she might not feel the same way–"

"Think about what you're saying!" Hans said emphatically. "Your sister could never forgive me for what I did to her, for what I did to you."

"But if I could…"

"Anna, listen to me," he said seriously. "You remember how- how much I hurt you? How terrible that felt?"

"It's not something I'm likely to forget," she said, a tad sharply. He grimaced.

"What I did was… awful. I broke your heart. But the pain that I caused you in that moment—and I know how this sounds, but it's the truth—that pain did not even come close to how badly I hurt your sister. I made her think that she was a monster. I told her that she was the reason you were dead: you, the only person left in the whole world who truly loved her. Can you imagine the agony she must have felt?" He shook his head. "She knew I was going to kill her… and she didn't even care."

Anna's face had fallen as she realized the truth of his words. Hans sighed again, his green eyes pained. "Anna, Elsa would never, could never care for me the way I care for her. Please, just… let us part on good terms. For me, that will be more than enough."

Anna hesitated, and then nodded. "Okay. If that's what you think is best for Elsa." She turned to go.

"Anna," Hans said suddenly, and she glanced back. "I… I'm sorry for the way things turned out between you and Kristoff."

Anna's eyes dropped to the ground. "He told you?" she said softly.

"That, and I'm a good guesser."

"Oh." She bit her lip. "Well… thanks."

He nodded. "Good evening, Anna."

"Yeah… goodnight." She left, and he didn't miss the way she hid the heartbreak in her eyes, covering it with her usual cheeriness and putting on a brave face for her people. And quite suddenly, it struck him: Anna was no queen, but she was the princess her people needed—a light that kept burning in dark times. Elsa was the head of the people, but Anna…Anna was their heart.

And for a brief moment, he wondered what kind of a damned fool would give up a woman like that.

Across the great hall, Elsa had nearly finished her conversation with the family, by aid of Kristoff's crude translations. Her face was pinched in a frown. "You've been traveling for almost two weeks now? You're sure?"

Kristoff spoke briefly to the man, who nodded- a universal sign, it seemed. Elsa pursed her lips. "Tell them thank you for me, Kristoff."

"Giitu," Kristoff said to the man. He nodded again, and Elsa stood. She had a certain look in her eyes, pensive and confused, so when she thanked Kristoff for his help and then went off on her own, he only waited a few minutes before deciding to follow her.

His search took him a good half-hour, as she was in none of her expected places- neither the library, nor the kitchens, nor even her normal room. In the end, he found her in the little room atop the lighthouse.

If Kristoff had to choose a favorite room in the whole castle, it would have to be the lighthouse. On a clear night, one could see all the stars through its windows, which he liked- it made him feel like he was outside. A little indoor staircase led to the lantern room at the top, where the sturdy windows around the majority of the room reflected the light out to sailors at sea. The light had been extinguished as of late, however, as a means to conserve fuel, as no sailor would have been able to see the light through the storm, anyway. Elsa seemed to have created a delicate little desk and chair of ice, upon which was what seemed to be a map of some sort, her fountain pen, and several pieces of scratch paper covered in mathematical equations. Elsa herself was not sitting in the desk, but rather staring out the front-most window, watching the flying snow with furrowed brow.

"Hey." She looked over at the sound of his voice. Kristoff clumped awkwardly into the room. "You look busy."

"Hm. Oh, mm-hm. I've been trying to figure this out…" She bit her lip thoughtfully, looking out to the whirling snow again.

Kristoff nodded. "Wanna tell me why you left so early?"

"Oh. Well, I think you may as well know; it's nothing secret." She picked up the map, frowning. "I didn't think about it until now, but what the Sámi family told you seemed strange."

"What d'you mean?"

She picked up a map, which had several different calculations and lines drawn on it. "They said they'd been fleeing the blizzard for two weeks now, but that doesn't make any sense—or at least, it shouldn't."

"I don't follow."

"Storms rarely blow in just one direction," she explained. "They twist and move according to land features, bodies of water, heat waves… but this is different." She looked to the snow blowing against the window. "It never changes. Always due North. And the wind-speed's been increasing. About a five percent increase each day, if I'm calculating right."

"How do you know that?" he asked, momentarily impressed by her intellect.

"I can feel it… and I've been watching the storm for a few days now. I think I've pinpointed its origin."

"You mean you know where it's coming from?" Kristoff said, surprised. "Where?"

"It's the strangest thing," she said, baffled, handing him the map. I've never seen a storm that moves like this. Look."

And he did look. His eyes narrowed in surprise, for on the paper, a straight line was drawn from Arendelle all the way north. At the very top of the map, Elsa had circled a point. Kristoff looked up. "The North Pole?"

"Exactly. And that's why it's so strange. Winds don't usually blow in one direction for this long; I can't make heads or tails out of it."

"Yeah, it's strange," Kristoff agreed. He hesitated, and then said, "…Y'know, I noticed something else sort of strange tonight, too."

"Hm? What's that?" Elsa said, biting her tongue as she went over her mathematics, writing down more figures.

"Just that you seemed pretty, uh, worried, when Hans wasn't feeling so good…"

Her hand stilled on the paper. For a long moment, she was silent, and then said, "What are you saying, Kristoff?"

"I'm saying that I've never seen you fret and fuss over anyone that much except Anna- not until tonight."

"Kristoff, I don't want talk about this," she said shortly, her pen scratching on the paper.

"C'mon, Elsa, I'm not blind. You're falling for him, aren't you?"

"What? No. Don't be ridiculous; of course I'm not," she blustered, trying with all her might not to blush.

"Elsa."

She sighed, and then stood up straight and looked at him. "…Am I that obvious?"

"No," he said simply. "I'm just good at reading people. So what is it?"

"Pardon?"

"Why do you like him?" Kristoff amended.

She grimaced, and then let out a frustrated sigh. "…I don't know," she said, sitting down in the desk chair. "He's… he's brilliant and charming and driven, and… and it's more than that, I don't really understand it, but…" She buried her head in her hands and groaned, "Kristoff, I don't know what to do."

"Well that's easy; go talk to him," Kristoff said frankly.

She let out a little laugh that sounded more astonished than amused. "You must be joking."

"Why not?"

"Because Hans most certainly does not reciprocate such feelings for me," Elsa replied, standing up again and turning towards the window. "He'd probably think I was out of my mind."

"But what if you're wrong?" Kristoff pressed, his face lighting up with possibility. "I mean, let's just say, y'know hypothetically, that he felt the same way-"

"Even if that were true, it wouldn't matter; he's leaving tomorrow night. There would be no chance, no point to starting a relationship."

"Yeah, but what if something made him stay?" he demanded. "Elsa, what if you made him stay?"

"And what if I did?!" Elsa cried exasperatedly, whirling around. Kristoff blinked. "What if he did stay, what if he did feel the same way, what if we did have a relationship? What then, Kristoff? What about Anna?"

The mountain man had fallen silent, stunned. Elsa sighed. "…She trusts me so much," she said sadly. "She believes in me, Kristoff. If she knew… it would break her heart; she'd never forgive me for it. I won't- no, I can't cause her any more pain. I can't hurt her again. You of all people must understand that."

"…Yeah," Kristoff admitted heavily. "Yeah, I know what you mean. The last thing I want is for Anna to get hurt."

"Then please, you can't tell her, or Hans. It's better if he just leaves without either of them ever finding out," Elsa pleaded, looking to Kristoff to be far older and sadder than ever. "Please, Kristoff."

He grimaced, debating inwardly, and then nodded with a sigh. "Okay," he agreed tiredly. "Okay, Elsa, if that's what you think is best."

"Thank you." She sat down in the desk chair again, visibly unhappy. Kristoff, unsure what else to do, headed for the stairway door. At the last moment, he stopped and looked back.

"He's a good man, you know." Elsa glanced up, surprised, and Kristoff looked her straight in the eyes. "I know it seems strange to say, but I really think it's true. Whatever he's done—and I'm not saying it's okay—but whatever's happened, he saved my life, and now he's saved the life of that little girl. So for what it's worth, he's got my trust."

For one long moment, she was silent, and then she said, "I…I don't know about trust…but I do think you might be right. I think he might be a good man."

Kristoff nodded, and Elsa thought he may have even smiled a little. "You wanna go back down?"

She sighed and nodded, setting the map down on the icy desk. "I think I've done about as much mathematics as I can handle for a night."

They walked together down into the main castle. Kristoff was customarily quiet, for which Elsa was grateful; it meant her knew that their discussion was over. When they reached the great hall, the pair separated, and Elsa found herself walking (quite without realizing it) towards where the prince was still sitting by the fire, wrapped in the blanket and sipping another cup of apple cider. He had a pensive expression on his face, staring into the fire as if lost in thought. She bit her lip, and then walked over to him.

Hans looked up as she approached, surprised. "Your Majesty. To what do I owe this pleasure?" he teased her.

Elsa rolled her eyes. "Well, I was coming over here to check up on you, but it seems your sense of sarcasm is still in perfect working order." She made as if to leave.

"Now hold on, I was only joking. Is anything the matter?"

"No, everything-" She hesitated, and then said airily, "Everything is fine. I'm making sure you're alright."

"I'm fine," he said dismissively.

"Hans, I'm serious," Elsa said, very seriously indeed. "You could have gotten yourself really hurt."

"But I didn't."

"But you may have!" She calmed herself, wringing her hands. "Please, just… at least next time, be honest with me… I don't like seeing my friends get hurt."

Friends. The word seemed to hang in the air, mixing with the scent and crackle of the glowing fire, and Hans felt it resonate somewhere deep inside his chest. We're… friends.

Then, he smiled warmly. "I'll try to be more careful, Elsa. I promise."

She found that she was smiling back. "Good."

Thousands of miles away, the Snow Queen screamed in fury, her voice so shrill that the ice beneath her feet fractured.