Chapter Thirty-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.
A/N: To the Guest reviewers who keep suggesting AUs and/or posting chapters of their own story: I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to keep deleting them. The review section isn't really the forum for that sort of thing. Again, I recommend you create your own account and post stories on the site that way; this site is quite user-friendly, and it's much easier for you to get feedback from a wider range of readers that way. I wish you all the best. :)
To the rest of you: some of you might remember that this is one of the longest chapters in the story; hence, this will be the only one uploaded today. I hope you enjoy it. :)
When Gerda at last found the Queen again, after a good half-hour's search of the castle, she was not altogether surprised to find her Majesty standing silently in the hallway just outside the picture room, clearly deep in thought. Here, the visages of Arendelle's queens and kings ran unbroken along the royal portrait gallery, tracing back to an ancient tapestry depicting the first jarls of Arendelle and culminating in the reigning queen's portrait, peering nervously out at the viewer from her layers of purple cape and green silk. It was not lost on the matronly housekeeper that the young woman's eyes were fixed almost unblinkingly, not upon her own painting, but upon the portrait of her departed parents. The late King and Queen looked down lovingly upon their eldest daughter, unchanging countenances filled with wisdom and strength, and the housekeeper held back, feeling somehow that she had intruded on a family meeting.
After her lady had not acknowledged her presence for a few minutes, Gerda quietly cleared her throat. Elsa started and looked over. "Oh, Gerda. I didn't notice you there."
"I've brought the dress you requested, m'Lady." She approached and lifted the neatly folded bundle of clothes in her hands.
"Oh, thank you." Elsa quickly took the bundle, unfolding each of the items in turn. At the top was a pair of black leather boots, a pair of burgundy mittens and a royal blue bonnet lined with white rabbit's fur. Beneath that was a heavy wool winter cloak of the same color. The last item was a blue woolen dress, with white trim about the waist and hem and cranberry-red embroidery on the bodice.
"It's lovely," Elsa said, holding the dress over one arm and tracing the embroidered scarlet flowers. "Why have I never seen this before?"
"It was your mother's, your Majesty, one of her favorites," Gerda said gently. "She didn't fit it anymore after having Anna, but she couldn't bear to give it away. She was saving it for you…she never lost hope that you might one day find a way to break the curse."
"My mother's…" Elsa murmured, looking up to the portraits lining the wall. Her mouth became a thin, worried line, and Gerda pursed her own lips in sympathy.
"What is it, m'Lady?" she asked gently, after a moment's hesitance.
The Queen sighed. "Everything's become so confusing, Gerda. It's as if the entire world has ceased making sense, and no matter what decision I make, it always seems to be the wrong one. I just…I wish I could ask their advice. Not just Mama and Papa, but all of them…they would have known what to do."
Gerda chuckled, and Elsa glanced over, startled. "What?"
"Your Majesty, your parents were just as inexperienced as you when they first took the throne, and their parents before them. They made mistakes, and they learned, and grew wiser for it. Why, your grandparents couldn't have been any older than twenty when I first met them. Very young, yes, but even then they were kind and good, and that is the greatest wisdom anyone can ask for in their rulers."
"You mean you knew them?" Elsa said, surprised; she'd never had the chance to meet them herself, as they'd died before she was born.
"Oh, only briefly. I stayed a night here during my travels." At her lady's curious look, the housekeeper nodded to the third-to-last portrait, in which stood a stunningly beautiful woman in a white gown embellished with pearls. At her side stood the handsome young king; his long red hair, tied back, and shining blue eyes reminded Elsa of her sister, and she smiled despite herself. "I heard that the princess was accepting suitors, and I thought Kai might be among them. When I arrived I found she'd made her decision and married a young man, but it wasn't Kai at all, of course—it was your grandfather, an honest peasant who'd won the heart of the princess," Gerda said with a slight sigh. "It sounds like something out of a fairytale, doesn't it? They gave me a coach and a new dress—and a muff, too, I'd forgotten about that."
"And my father was their son," Elsa said, looking to the next picture.
"Yes, he was. He and your mother had an arranged marriage, as well you know. They weren't in love in the beginning, or at least that's what I've heard."
"They were always so affectionate. When do you think it happened?"
"Oh, I was there, m'Lady. As a matter of fact, so were you."
"Me?" said Elsa, eyes widening in surprise.
Gerda smiled. "They'd cared for each other, certainly, but they'd never been in love…at least, not until the day you were born. The first time your mother ever held you in her arms, your father watching protectively over…I knew without a doubt. That was the moment your parents found true love."
"And you and Kai?" the Queen inquired.
"Ah, well, Kai and I have known each other for as long as I could remember," Gerda replied, turning away from the picture. "We were best friends as children; we'd plant flowers in window-boxes and listen to the stories his grandmother told…"
"And you walked half the world over just to save him," Elsa added.
"Yes, that too." Her eyes were distant. "I would have done anything to find him." She glanced over to the Queen. "Why all the sudden questions?"
Elsa flushed and ducked her head. Gerda nodded and said primly, "My apologies, m'Lady; I suppose that's your own business, isn't it?" She placed the folded dress into her hands, and then added gravely, "But if I were you, I'd get a quick start on going after the prince."
"How did you–?"
"I'm an old woman, m'Lady; we know these things. And if there's another thing I know," she added grimly, "it's that if the Snow Queen is trying to lure you up to that palace, it means she's finally running out of time."
"Running out of time?" Elsa questioned.
The housekeeper frowned at her. "Your Majesty, don't you remember what day it is?"
Elsa had to think back for a moment, but when she realized, her eyes went wide. "Of course… it's Christmas Eve."
"And tomorrow is Christmas Day—one of the holiest days of all the year," Gerda replied. "Her powers are of cold and darkness, but on Christmas, light and warmth begin to return to the world. If she needs the shard before then, she'll use any means possible to force the prince to give it up—including you, m'lady. And if he refuses…"
"…Then she'll kill him," Elsa finished lowly. The housekeeper nodded, and both fell silent, the corridor quiet save for the howl of the winds beyond the walls.
"Try as much as you like, they certainly won't melt."
Hans looked over, startled and guilty, like a child caught with his hand in the biscuit tin. The Snow Queen was look at him disapprovingly, and he quickly extinguished the flames in his hands, which he'd been using to try to melt the icy cuffs. "You can hardly blame me for trying to escape," he retorted. "Nor would I need to if you'd just let me go."
"Actually, that's exactly about what I'd like to speak with you," said the Snow Queen, striding into the center of the room to face him. "I think it's high time we negotiated your release. So long as you meet my demands, everything will proceed quite smoothly."
"Or what, you'll turn me into an ice sculpture like you did your village?" Hans shot back.
CRACK!
He stumbled and nearly fell over, such was the force of the Snow Queen's blow. His cheek smarted, frostbitten, and he rubbed it, glaring up at her. "Hold your tongue," the Snow Queen snapped, "Before you lose it."
He decided, wisely, to do as told. "Now," the sorceress said coolly, beginning to pace in front of him. "The deal is very simple. I will set you free, to go wherever you wish to go, just as soon as you hand over that shard to me."
"If you want it so much, why don't you just kill me and take it?" The Snow Queen's eyes glittered dangerously, and he nodded. "Like I said, I know something about magic, your Majesty. Rules are rules. The shards have to be freely given; that's why you couldn't take it from me while I was unconscious—and why Agnar tried to convince Elsa to kill me instead of doing it himself."
She snarled. "You insolent little boy! Why are you so obstinate; clearly you can't be trusted with it!"
"Oh, so you're the better option?" Hans retorted, holding up his clenched hand. "What if I decide neither of us should be trusted with it? This little piece of glass looks rather fragile; who's to say I don't accidentally drop it right on that icy fl-"
His voice died quite suddenly as he felt the icicle's point touch his neck. All around him, a ring of razor-sharp icicles had sprung to life, each poised to strike some critical part of his anatomy. Hans would have gulped if he hadn't been afraid of impaling his Adam's apple on the foremost spike.
"Let me make this very clear," the Snow Queen breathed, her face pale as death. "The Mirror is not something that can be so easily done away with. But if you so much as try to destroy that shard, I will personally ensure that you die a slow and agonizing demise. Do I make myself clear?"
"C-crystal," Hans gasped out, barely daring to move.
The icicles shrank back at this, and he allowed himself to breathe again. "Now," the Snow Queen said, looking as if she were trying to regain control of her temper, "Let's discuss this like adults. You and I both know you're not able to handle that fragment's power. The mirror's already turned your heart; it'll do more now that you're aware of your own power."
"I'm not going to hurt anyone; you can't make me," he said dismissively.
She laughed at that. "I don't have to make you do anything. What about the town guards, hm? You would have destroyed them without a second thought."
"They were chasing me; they were trying to-"
"What does it matter? You felt the anger and hatred rise up in you, don't pretend you didn't. You wanted to end them. And what about the Queen?"
"Leave Elsa out of this," he snapped.
"But how could I? She's so much a part of your story, so much a part of you. Actually," she said, raising her eyebrow and pacing a few steps away, "I'm wondering why it is that you care. Why should you have come to value her so suddenly? Eighteen months ago you were more than willing to take off her head. Unless…" She turned, a slow smile spreading across her face. "Why, you foolish young man. You've fallen in love with her, haven't you?"
Hans's mouth had fallen open, leaving him mute, defenseless. "How absolutely delicious!" the Snow Queen cackled with relish. "The murderer falls in love with his victim! And yet, you know deep down that you'll never change. How willing were you to destroy her in that chapel, young prince? You were close again, weren't you? Didn't you savor the taste of bloodlust on your tongue?" She snickered, pacing away to look at the Mirror. "You Southern princes are all monsters, born and bred," she added as she inspected some invisible flaw in her reflection, "perfect receptacles for the Mirror. You're not quite as opportune as your brother, of course, but not a bad candidate all considered." She looked back to him with a smile. "And if the Queen ever makes her way up this mountain to save a miserable wretch like yourself, then rest assured that you will find some way to destroy her eventually."
"But I don't have to hold out until 'eventually,' do I?" Hans sneered. He saw her eyes shift, and he nodded, sensing he'd regained the upper hand. "You see, I think I've figured something out, your Majesty."
"Don't play games with me, boy, you won't win."
"I don't have to win. I just have to be patient. I have all the time in the world." He stepped forward. "I know you can't kill me to get this shard, but why are you so desperate to have it now? Why not wait a few decades, see if someone else does me in or I die of old age?" Her jaw tightened, and he took another step. "Because you can't afford to wait. You need this little piece of glass soon. Say...by Christmas morning?"
Jagged pieces of ice shot out from the walls, an abrupt loss of control, and the prince smirked. "You said you made a deal," he relished, taking a third step. "I bet its terms are coming due. I bet you're just desperate to finish repairing that mirror by tomorrow because if you don't, there'll be consequences. Judging by what I saw during your little temper tantrum, you've been alive for a very long time. But I think your time's running short. I think it's almost run out."
There was a beat of silence. The Snow Queen seemed to be sizing him up—strangely, she seemed almost impressed. Hans eyed her just as coolly.
"You are a clever one, Prince Hans, I'll admit that."
"So I'm right, then."
"Perhaps you are." She seemed genuinely unruffled, and the prince felt a note of fear creep back in. "But have you worked out yet what it will cost you?"
"Pardon?"
The Snow Queen turned back to the mirror, and for the first time, Hans saw a note of sanity in her face—and a note of humanity.
"Let's say you're correct. What do you suppose will happen tomorrow at dawn, then?"
Hans shrugged, but he was beginning to feel nervous again. "How would I know? It's your contract. Either way, I'm pretty sure you won't be left on this earth to tell me."
"And the Mirror?"
"I suppose it'll go with you."
"And why would I do that?"
The voice had come from the Mirror. The witch's reflection looked back at him coldly. The Snow Queen was watching it almost warily.
"The Devil's Mirror requires a curator, an owner. If I'm gone..." She had still not turned to look at him. "It will call on someone else."
His heartbeat sounded strangely loud in his ears, loud and slow. He took a step back.
"I won't."
"Won't you?" Her voice was quiet, almost distant. "So much power, right here for the taking. And the Mirror wants to be whole. Wherever you are in the world, wherever you run, it will call to you. It will always call you back."
"I won't." His voice was stronger now, and she turned at last.
"And why not?"
"Because Elsa still has the other piece," he said, his voice wavering at first, but steadying as he continued: "So long as she has it, I can't be the Mirror's sole owner. She'd stop me—one way or another." A frozen smile ghosted across his face. "I'm no match for her."
There was a glitter of something like triumph in the Snow Queen's eyes. "But if I had the Queen's shard–"
"You don't," he replied with certainty. "A very convincing fake, perhaps, but you're an ice witch; creating that would be child's play to you. Elsa's not stupid enough to give you her piece of the mirror, and I'm not stupid enough to believe you if you claim she did." He took another step back. "Like I said: I don't have to outlast you forever. Just until morning."
"You're a monster. You're weak," she snarled. "You'll give in eventually, just like every time before!"
"Try me!" he spat back.
With one swift move, she swept up his chains into her hands and, with that same inhuman strength, pulled him forward to the Mirror. Hans landed on his knees and turned his head, closing his eyes tight.
"What is it, young prince?" she asked mockingly. "Too weak to look on the truth about yourself?" She jangled the chains, and he gritted his teeth. "Powerlust will work its way into you, one way or the other. That's who you are."
"You're wrong," Hans insisted, but it was half to convince himself. He could feel the glass growing hot in his hands.
"Then why the Queen?" Her voice was triumphant. "The world is full of lovely young women; do you expect me to believe it was mere coincidence you fell in love with the one who could give you a crown?"
His resolve wavered. Is that...? No, that's not true, that's not why I fell in love with her... But the burning figures in the forest flashed through his mind. Was his love for her just a mask for his love of power? Had he managed to deceive even himself this time?
"Is he afraid to look me in the eyes?" his own voice jeered out from the Mirror. "Can't even stand his own reflection, the coward."
It's not true, Hans chanted to himself. I care about her, not just her throne. I wouldn't–
"Just take care of my sister!"
He started at that, eyes flying open. He knew that voice. "Elsa?"
"Your sister? She returned back from the mountain, weak and cold!" Too late, he realized his mistake, and found himself standing at the edge of a frozen fjord, separated only by a wall of shimmering glass as he watched his greatest crime replay itself in horrifying clarity. "She said that you froze her heart! Your sister is dead! …Because of you."
"No," Hans echoed, even as the mirror-Elsa repeated the same word. "You're wrong. I'm not that man anymore." The snow rolled back as the prince unsheathed his sword, and Hans felt his stomach clench painfully.
But Anna. Anna had stopped him.
The man raised the sword.
Where was Anna? Hans tried to wrench his eyes from the glass, but it was futile; there was nothing he could do to stop the scene that was unfolding.
He swung. The steel blade cut swiftly through the air–
"You're wrong!"
…Anna didn't come.
He was shaking, uncontrollably, unable to look away. "You have until dawn," the Snow Queen said behind him coldly. "Ask yourself how strong you are, Prince Hans. I hope you make the wiser choice—for both our sakes."
Hans hardly heard her. He felt ill. The blood on the ice leaked in a sluggish river towards him, as if it would seep out of the Mirror and into reality. Behind him, the Snow Queen swept out of the room.
"Ooh, ooh, Elsa, is it time?"
The queen glanced over as the bubbly snowman skipped up along the icy cobblestone at the bridge, wind snapping the flags along the columns like horsewhips. "It's time. Are you ready, Olaf?"
"You bet! I love adventures! With monsters and witches and magic! This'll be fun!"
Elsa looked over at her sister and Kristoff, and said dryly, "See, Anna? It'll be fun!"
"I still don't think this is a good idea," Anna insisted.
"Just because something is risky doesn't mean it's a bad idea," Elsa asserted as she readied her horse, slinging her satchel over her shoulder and picking up the lantern from the ground.
"At least let me come with you!"
"No, Anna," the elder sister said sternly. "I need you and Kristoff to stay here and watch over Arendelle."
"Elsa–" Kristoff started, but the Queen cut him off.
"I know about what happened between you and Anna, but we can deal with that later. There's no one I'd rather have taking care of my people than you and my sister." She tightened her cloak and pulled the fur-lined bonnet over her ears. "No one is to follow me this time, I expressly forbid it. Especially not the two of you. Am I clear?" she said, pointing at the pair.
They grumbled almost in unison in a way that made Elsa question their sincerity, before Anna said, "I still don't think it's safe for you to be running up there alone."
"I won't be alone; I have Olaf."
"Gee, what a relief," Kristoff deadpanned.
"I'll be fine," Elsa assured them. "I know that mountain like the back of my hand. Just try to keep everyone warm and fed until I come back."
"And what if you don't come back?" Anna demanded, voice cracking with fear.
Elsa saw how afraid she was and set down the lantern, pulling her sister into a hug. "I will," she promised. "But if worst comes to worst, then Arendelle will be in the hands of a good and capable queen."
Anna squeezed her sister tight, and then pulled back. "Please be safe," she said, worry in her eyes.
"I'll do my best." Elsa stepped away and nodded to Kristoff. "Take care of each other."
"We will," he promised. "Do you have everything you need?"
"I have extra rations and a flask of hot cider," Elsa said, peering into her bag. She noted also, but chose not to mention, the silver-clasped hymnal she'd tucked safely inside. "I wish I had some sort of weapon, but there's nowhere to hide one."
"Take this," Kristoff said, pulling the smaller of his hunting knives out of the side of his belt and handing it to Elsa. "It's a good knife; saved my life more than once. It belonged to my Ma."
"Did it?" the Queen said as she unsheathed it, surprised. It was a beautiful tool, with a single-edge blade and a white birch handle.
He nodded. "Her knives and a stolen horse were the only things she had with her when she ran away from home. She gave them to me when I was a kid."
Elsa could see how important the tool was to him—and how much he clearly trusted her if he was willing to let her use it. "I'll take good care of it," she promised, slipping the knife into the sleeve of her dress. The reindeer-hide sheath was rough against her skin, but the knife lay so flat inside the sleeve that it was almost invisible, unless one was looking for it. "I think that's everything."
"Good luck, Elsa," Anna said, biting her lip. "Be careful."
"I promise I will." She nodded to the last of the trio, grabbing the lantern and climbing up onto her horse. "Come on, Olaf. It's time to go."
"Okay!" He hopped up onto the horse behind her. "Let's go save Hans!"
"Who is this Hans?" Anna and Kristoff murmured in unison, and then glanced at each other and chuckled. However, their momentary mirth faded as they saw Elsa turn the horse around and snap the reins. The sound of hooves on stone echoed for a moment, and then was blown away by the blizzard winds as the queen rode off into the night, leaving the princess and the ice harvester to stare worriedly into the darkness after her.
The cabin walls creaked in the force of the gale outside, but within, it was warm, and the fire crackled fiercely in the red hearth.
King Agnar knelt before it, warming his hands, letting them feel the heat. Fire was something he knew far too well, and yet he hungered to know it all the deeper still. Though he knew it was foolish, he reached a little ways further. A fiery tendril brushed up against his thumb, and he pulled back with a hiss of pain, a pain that was still too familiar for comfort.
He withdrew his hand, staring into hearth. What's your secret? He knew of, though had not read extensively on, the French and Weselish chemists who had recently developed new theories on the nature of combustion, but Agnar was far more interested in the mystical and mythical power of fire—its primordial and looming presence in the psyche of man. What is the source of your power? Fire, it had always seemed to him, was the very essence of power: dangerous and threatening to those with no control over it, useful and beautiful to those who were able to manipulate it. All his life, the more he had suffered under it, the greater his hunger, his craving to possess and understand it.
The swords struck and parted; his father moved for a cut across the chest, and the prince dodged appropriately, returning with an attempted slice to the leg. Sweat poured in little rivulets down his forehead and into his eyes. Of his many classes and many tutors, there was no training Agnar hated more than swordsmanship lessons with his father.
"The strong crush the weak, Agnar," the king told him shortly. "Only the conqueror deserves to live! The rest will die in the dust where they belong."
Their blades crossed with a sharp CLANG! "Conquerors are tyrants who are rarely admired," the prince retorted through gritted teeth, "Even rarer loved."
"The man who lets opportunity slips through his fingers is a spineless fool." The king disarmed him, Agnar's sword dropping to the ground. His father re-sheathed his own with clear disapproval. "Your hesitation betrays you; one day it will be your destruction."
"Prudence is not the same as hesitation, Father." The words tasted acerbic on his tongue.
"There are weak and feeble countries all around us, Agnar; one day it will be your responsibility to take them under your rule. We will swallow them up into ourselves, and the Westergaard line will be remembered forever as the name which made the Isles a great and powerful nation!"
"And is marriage not a good enough means to that end?" he retorted. Their ongoing debate was never far from his father's mind. "The younger ones will be of proper age when the time comes, yet you would sacrifice our people in bloody war rather than seek a peaceful union!"
"And you would let one of your brothers hold the throne that is to be yours! You are a lazy and stupid boy, too much of a coward to seize what is yours for the taking!"
"Arendelle would not fall to a thousand of our ships and you know it!" he spat back.
The moment he said it, he knew he'd gone too far. Faster than lightning, his father struck forward, disarmed him and swept his leg. The prince's back hit the ground a moment before he felt the king's hand seize his throat.
"I do not need a thousand ships to conquer Arendelle," the king hissed. Agnar rasped for air as the burning grip of his father's hand began to char through his vest collar. "With this shard, I would not need a hundred!"
"F-Father- please-"
"There will come a day when they are weak. And when that happens, I will crush the life out of them-" Agnar choked, "-and takes their crown for my own. And you, Agnar, will be at my side. Swear it to me."
"I-"
"Swear it to me, Agnar!" His father's eyes were blazing with rage; sparks flared in the bristles of his red beard.
"I swear," the prince rasped. "I swear!"
The king clenched his hand, threatening to crush the younger man's windpipe, and then abruptly let go. Agnar lay on the ground, wheezing for air. His hand clutched at his throat, and he felt two blistered burns where the king's thumb and forefinger had branded the skin. His eyes stung.
"You're weak, Agnar." He looked up and saw his father's harsh gaze looking down at him. "Your birthright was stolen from you, but that's no excuse for your feeble helplessness. Power comes only to those who know how to crush the weak; no one will ever respect you unless they fear you. And you will never be worthy of MY respect until you prove yourself a king!"
Agnar gritted his teeth against the pain and anger. "Understood, Father..."
The king's hand brushed against his neck, and he pushed down the thick collar of his coat to find the two oval scars, now white with age, along the underside of his neck, an eternal reminder of the day he had taken up his father's jealous quest to seize Arendelle's vast resources and make the northern kingdom a country fit to be ruled.
But he was close, now. Finally, he would be worthy of his father's crown, worthy of his name. He would be strong, not weak. He would be great, not the pitiful son, robbed of his birthright, eternally falling short of his full potential. He would crush Arendelle and assume it into the Isles, and then…
And then… what? A little voice whispered in the back of his head.
He pushed it forcefully aside. And then, I will be king. I will have fulfilled father's wishes.
Are you your father, Agnar?
He stopped at that, unpleasantly startled, but before he could reply the door burst open, a cold gust filling the room and nearly blowing out the fire.
"Shut the door," he snapped, getting to his feet. The Snow Queen raised an eyebrow, but did as requested. "What are you doing here?"
"I've come to collect your shard," she said simply.
The king said nothing for a long moment, certain he'd heard wrong. When he did, he spoke only a very low, "What?"
"I don't believe I stuttered, King Agnar. Your shard. Hand it over."
"We had a deal," he growled. "I would take over the shard's power-"
"Yes, and only its power," the Snow Queen said lightly. With a wave of her hand, the contract he'd signed magically appeared, hovering in midair. "The fragments are not necessary to use the mirror's magic, you know; only for forcing it onto someone else. It's not as if I carry the Mirror around with me, is it?"
The king had gone a livid red with rage. "You mean- all this time-"
"All this time, you already possessed its power in full? Yes, King Agnar, a fact which you would have known had you read the fine print," the Snow Queen said, vanishing the contract with another lithe wave. "But it's no matter; you have what you want now, don't you? Now I think that little silver box in your cloak belongs to me."
Snarling, the king retrieved the silver box and threw it to her feet. It clattered open, the fiery piece of glass skittering over the wooden floor. "This is the last business I ever conduct with you, witch," he spat as she summoned the glass with an icy breeze.
The Snow Queen brushed him off as one would an irritating fly. "Go. Take your precious kingdom. Our contract is complete." Without another word, she opened the door and stepped out.
The king hesitated, and then got to his feet, stalking out after her. "Hold on a minute, you-"
He looked around at the frozen forest. It was empty; there was not a soul to be seen. Irritated, he looked to the sky. "Well?" he demanded of the storming clouds. "How does this work, then?"
Nothing happened. Clenching his fists, he shouted, "We had a dea-!"
A sudden feeling of warmth in his chest startled him into silence. The warmth spread to his arms and legs; flames shot up along his palms as if from a gas stove. His hair flushed deep auburn, to match that of his youngest brother, and the king let out a long-suffering sigh. "Finally," he said, extending his hands. "That's much better."
He turned and, on impulse, flung out his hand towards a nearby tree. A steady jet of fire shot from his palm and engulfed the branches, until the tree was full ablaze. With another sweep, the fire disappeared, leaving only the seared, smoking trunk behind.
"Yes," Agnar said, grinning, "much better, indeed." And without another moment's ado, he stalked off through the snows towards Arendelle, leaving a trail of melted snow and smoldering grass as he went.
The winds howled through the shadowy trees as Elsa peered into the darkness, holding the greenish lantern aloft. "Um, Elsa?" Olaf questioned loudly from the back of the horse, in an effort to be heard over the blizzard. "Aren't we supposed to be going up the mountain?"
"We will!" Elsa called back. "But not just yet. We're stopping for some help first."
A sudden gust of wind met them, startling the horse and nearly knocking Olaf off the back. "Whoa!"
"Easy boy," Elsa soothed, patting the horse's neck. "It'll be safer once we're down at the cliff bottom," she informed Olaf.
Cautiously watching for any sudden drop-offs or ledges, she guided the horse down into a ravine lined with canyon walls. Though the wind was cut off, snow still covered the ground. Here and there, hidden geysers let off puffs of steam. "This isn't right," Elsa murmured, frowning deeply.
"What isn't right?" Olaf questioned innocently.
"This snow. It shouldn't be here; the trolls never let it snow in their territory." She nudged the horse forward. "C'mon, boy."
The ravine was silent and cold; above, the wind whistled over the sheer edges of the cliff, sprinkling down the snowflakes it released upon jumping the gap to the other side. When at last the ravine widened into a clearing, Elsa pulled her mount to a sudden stop. "Oh no."
The trolls lay silently, curled up in their small, stony spheres; many were covered in tiny "hats" of lumped snow that would have been almost comical, were it not for the dreadful stillness. "Grand Pabbie!" Elsa called, jumping off her horse. "Bulda? Cliff?"
For a long moment, nothing moved, and then the rocks in unison seemed to tremble and uncurl. Many were shivering, a rather incongruous action for a rock troll. "Queen Elsa," Grand Pabbie said weakly, hurrying forward.
"How is this possible?" Elsa demanded, kneeling down in front of him. "I thought winter couldn't touch here!"
"We thought so, as well, but it appears we were mistaken." His face was troubled, even fearful. "Your Majesty, have you any idea how this has come to pass?"
Elsa removed her bonnet, revealing her dark hair. Several of the trolls gasped, crowding around. "My powers are gone," she told him sadly. "The Snow Queen tricked me into handing them over to her."
"The Snow Queen," Grand Pabbie murmured. "So the rumors are true…she has returned to Arendelle." There were murmurs among the other trolls. "I have long suspected your father was not honest with me about the origins of your curse. Is this strange winter her doing?"
"It is. Please, isn't there anything you can do?" she pleaded.
"Our magic is simple, Elsa: curing illnesses, minor healings, helping the plants to grow—gifts of the earth and of nature. The sorcery the Snow Queen possesses is rooted in powerful evil; there is little we can do to stop her."
"It's over, then," Elsa said hollowly, standing only to sit down heavily on a nearby boulder. "You were my last hope."
"I said little, my dear, not nothing." She looked over at him, surprised. "I sense there is something of little worldly value but great worth on your person—a gift, perhaps?"
"I don't know what—oh!" Her eyes flew wide, and she hurriedly dug through her satchel, pulling out the hymnal. She opened it up to the page with Deilig er Jorden printed thinly on the top, and there she found the rose that Hans had given to her on their last visit to that same clearing. "Do you mean this?"
"This token was given to you out of pure love, a hope that you might see it and smile," Grand Pabbie said sagely. "Gifts such as these are sacred things; they contain powers far greater than the eye at first can see." He touched the dead, dried flower, and as Elsa looked, the rose seemed to bloom to life before her eyes. The color of the petals seemed to flush into the page, and she saw in scarlet across the notes and ledger lines the image of a young man standing before what appeared to be a mirror. Behind him stood a great and terrible woman, her finger pointing to the mirror and her face harsh and cruel. "She's ordering him to do something," the troll noted.
"Then he hasn't given in!" Elsa breathed.
"Not yet. But his heart is slowly being frozen again by the Mirror."
"Frozen—again?"
The old troll turned stern eyes on her. "The powers of the Devil's Mirror are at their strongest when they are indirect. They do not so much coerce their victims as they do entice, suggest. How long has the prince been enchanted by its sorcery?"
"I'm not sure. Since he was a child, I think."
"I believe that when the prince realized just how far he had fallen, his will to change protected him from the Mirror's persuasions for a time. But now that he is aware of the power he possesses by it, opportunities for temptation will abound." At her bewildered look, he clarified: "The Mirror both exacerbates selfishness and grants the power to fulfill it. Before he suffered merely the former; now he is afflicted by both. You must hurry, my dear."
"I will, as fast as I can," Elsa said resolutely, getting to her feet.
"Take this with you," the troll said, closing the book and handing it to her. "Perhaps it will grant you some further aid."
"Thank you," she said gratefully, and quickly strode over to her horse, putting her bonnet back on. "Don't worry, Grand Pabbie; I'll do everything I can to make sure this winter ends."
"I know, Queen Elsa. But please, make haste," he said grimly.
Elsa nodded firmly and said, "Come on, Olaf."
"Okay!" the snowman agreed, climbing back on to the horse. Elsa snapped the reigns with a sharp "Hap!" and again, the pair vanished into the forest.
Grand Pabbie watched them go, his stony countenance anxious. "Make haste, your Majesty," he repeated again, almost to himself. "Both our peoples' futures depend on it."
"Ooh, boy, is it chilly," Elsa managed through her chattering teeth. Her nose stung red with frostbite, and she could hardly see through the flying snow.
"Do you think we're almost at the top yet?" Olaf shouted from behind.
"I don't know! We could be anywhere from the base to the bridge by now; I won't know until I can see the castle!" Or anything, in this whiteout. "C'mon, just a little further," she urged the horse, having no idea whether or not it were true. "Just a little ways m-"
A sudden gust of wind from the north blasted them full in the face, freezing the words in her throat. Spooked, the horse whinnied and reared, tipping them both off the back.
Elsa hit the cold snow with a shriek; in the next moment, the horse whinnied again and ran back past her, disappearing down the slope.
"Wait!" She scrambled to her feet. "Come back!" she shouted uselessly into the driving winds. After a moment of shivering there alone, she realized that her horse was clearly not going to return for its mistress.
"I don't think it's coming back," Olaf said factually.
"I know it's not coming back!" Elsa snapped. When she saw the hurt look on the snowman's face, she sighed. "I'm sorry, Olaf. Now where did the lantern…"
She trailed off as she saw the broken glass lying not two feet from her boot-toes. "Oh no," she gasped, quickly kneeling down. "No no no!" She scrambled to pick up the lantern in her burgundy gloves. "Don't be out, please don't be out…"
But the lantern was quite clearly unlit. She sat back in the snow, feeling suddenly completely helpless. "Elsa?" Olaf questioned.
"We'll never find our way now," she said numbly. "Not without a lantern." She shivered, pulling her cloak tighter around her.
"Do we go back then?" Olaf questioned.
"If you keep heading down the mountain, you might be able to find the castle in a week's time. When you find Anna, tell her…" she hesitated, and then said, "tell her that I'm sorry."
"Sorry for what?"
His creator looked at him, and Olaf suddenly felt afraid at the resigned look in her eyes. "Without my powers, I'm as vulnerable to the cold as anyone else, Olaf," Elsa said softly. "If I don't find my ice palace, I won't make it to morning."
"What about a fire? Could that keep you warm?"
"A fire with what? There's no wood up here; I didn't even think to bring any matches." What a foolish thing to do…
"Would that one work?"
This seemed like an odd thing to say. "What one?" Elsa replied, startled.
"That one right over there," Olaf said innocently, pointing over her shoulder. Elsa turned and looked back, frowning in confusion.
And indeed, though she hadn't seen it before, a tiny light was flickering bright in the flying snow, forward and a little ways up the slope. "But how…?" Elsa gasped, getting to her feet.
She and Olaf trudged as quickly as they could through the thick snowdrifts. The fire seemed to grow brighter and warmer in the gray wasteland as they approached. Elsa had expected it to be some sort of campfire, but when at last they stood before it, she found something quite bafflingly opposite.
The flame was indeed nearly as large as a small cooking fire, but it did not feed on any substance in particular—in fact, it didn't even touch the ground, floating just above a melted hollow in the snow. It was roughly in the shape of the flame one sees atop a candle wick, though naturally much larger, wavering slightly yet ultimately steady despite the strong winds. "What is it?" Olaf whispered, awed.
"I… don't know," Elsa said uncertainly. "Maybe Hans left it here?"
"Should we touch it?" asked the snowman, inching wide-eyed towards it.
Even as he said this, however, the flame suddenly uncurled of its own accord, making the two jump back, startled. "Oh, thank goodness you're here! I was so worried no one would come!"
It was a… person. Or at least, something very much like a small person. Elsa just stared, unable to reply. The little fire-being blushed a scarlet hue and shuffled her feet—for of course she had to be a "she," there was no doubt about that. Now that she had straightened out, it was clear that she was very small, standing no taller than Olaf's carrot nose, although she may have been smaller still, since she was still floating several inches off the ground. She wore what appeared to be a wavering dress made of the same fiery material as her person, and her hair curled wispily upwards at the top (that was what had given her the appearance of a candle). She ducked her head, seeming incredibly shy, and didn't speak again.
Olaf, ironically, was the first to regain his power of speech. "Wo-ow," he said, awestruck, as he stepped forward. "You're amazing."
The fire-being clasped her hands behind her back, embarrassed. "Th-thank you."
"Did Hans make you?" Elsa questioned. She nodded. "What's your name?"
"Ovn," she answered timidly. "I'm very pleased to meet you." Then, her face grew somber again. "Uncle is in terrible danger; the ice-woman has him and I don't like her, I'm sure she must be doing something just awful to him…"
"Can you take us to him?" Elsa asked urgently.
"Oh, yes, I can! I tried to go for help, but it was so cold and dark, and I didn't know if there was even anyone around, but now that you're here I'm certain it will all be alright!"
"Well, lead the way," the queen said, gesturing into the gray-white void.
"Follow me," Ovn said shyly, and began to float gracefully off in the same direction. Olaf skipped ahead towards her, and Elsa followed quickly to keep up.
Their climb took them through a particularly cold and dense layer of blasting ice; Elsa was certain that without Ovn's guiding light, she would surely have lost her way and gone tumbling headfirst into an unseen abyss more than once. Then, quite suddenly, the snow slowed and stopped, until all three found themselves standing in cold, clear air. Here above the storming cloud-layer, one could see everything clearly. The moon glittered on the snow and ice like a thousand tiny diamonds, a dazzling mirror of the starry sky. Elsa and the other two paused to drink in the crisp, wide emptiness of the night, and then they continued on their way.
Despite the drifted snow covering every feature, things were beginning to look more familiar to the queen. As Ovn brought them into a shallow ravine lined with rock faces, Elsa suddenly realized that they were nearing the palace. However, even without these landmarks, this fact would quickly have become obvious, due to the presence of one feature that was rather out-of-place.
"Marshmallow!" Elsa exclaimed, hurrying forward. The snow monster let out a rather weak groan of happiness as he saw his creator. "Oh no," she breathed, seeing how bad the damage was. Marshmallow's bad leg had come completely undone, and now the other leg and the lower part of his right arm had been severed, too. They were lying in great chunks all around, while he lay half-propped against the side of a low cliff. "What did she do to you?" Elsa whispered, voice laced with anger.
He let out another groan, this one sadder, and gestured towards Elsa. The Queen shook her head. "I'm sorry, Sweetie; I can't. Mama lost her ice powers."
Marshmallow let out a very depressed-sounding sigh, and Ovn added, "The ice-woman's giants cut him to pieces. I tried to help him, but I only melted the snow."
Elsa's eyes had narrowed; her mouth was set in a firm line. "Olaf, Ovn, you stay here with Marshmallow, alright?" she said, standing and turning to them. "Try to patch him up a little; see if you can't get his arm reattached."
"I promise to do my best!" Olaf said resolutely, marching over to the other snowman. "You're going to be o-kay now, Marshmallow! Your big brother Olaf's here to help!"
After instructing the two beings not to follow her, the queen continued up the slope on her own. As she turned the last corner towards her palace, she felt her mouth fall open.
The castle Elsa had built with her own two hands, her second home and refuge, had been vandalized nearly beyond recognition. Great chunks littered the ground around her, sharp and clear as broken glass The intricate, delicate stairway was gone, replaced by a grandiose flight made of thick, solid ice steps with jagged edges that narrowed at the top to fit the doorway. The balcony had been redone in similar style, and sharp icicles jutted out at awkward angles from the castle, as if piercing through the sides. Two gigantic ice statues, golem-like and imposing, stood on either side of the stairs. The whole design seeming almost crude compared to the elegance and grace that Elsa had originally envisioned—crude, unwelcoming and formidable.
Ice crunched beneath her boot soles as she walked forward, and she stopped as her toe nudged against something. She looked down to see one of the beautiful ice spires that had adorned the tops of the towers. Elsa picked it up, feeling anger boil inside her. This had been hers, and hers alone, save for those treasured few with whom she'd agreed to share it; now someone had invaded it and destroyed everything beautiful about it. She dropped the spire, hands curling into angry little fists.
The noise echoed through the empty mountain, and ahead of her, something moved. Elsa darted behind a rock as what she'd mistaken to be statues stood and pointed their fiercely sharp ice spears. She held perfectly still, not even daring to breathe, as the guards looked this way and that. Eventually, they seemed to decide that they had heard nothing, and went back to their neutral position.
The queen let out a little sigh of relief, and then bit her lip, thinking. She'd built the castle specifically with one door: one way in, and one way out, not counting the windows or balcony. Something told her that the snow guards wouldn't kill her, but they'd definitely bring her to the Snow Queen, with whom Elsa had been hoping to avoid a confrontation—at least, until it was on her own terms. That meant that if she wanted even to get inside the castle to speak privately with Hans, she'd have to somehow get past the guards. She closed her eyes, thinking. How to do it? How to–
The briefest of images flashed through her mind: Anna's grinning face right after she'd smacked Elsa in the back with a snowball all those weeks ago. Of course! That was it; she could trick them the same way Anna had tricked her. It would be risky—she doubted that their first line of attack was throwing a puny snowball, and then of course she'd won the fight with Anna, after all—but it was better than sitting around trying to come up with another plan while Hans could be freezing to death inside.
Scooping up a snowball into her gloved hand, Elsa formed it into a ball and then threw it as hard as she could down the slope. It made a slight noise, but not loud enough. Frowning, she tried again, and was met with the same result.
Inspiration struck her as she saw the broken spire lying just out of reach. She hesitated, and then peeked around the rock. The guards were still standing utterly still. Crouching down, she reached her hand out, a little bit at a time, sure that at any moment they'd see her red mittens and then all would be lost.
Her glove tapped against something cold and hard, and Elsa grabbed a hold of it, pulling it back. She held her breath, and then let out a sigh when nothing happened. Standing back up, she held the spire like a javelin and threw it in the same direction as the snowballs.
The loud sound of breaking ice drew the guard's attention, and they stomped off down the hill. Elsa pressed herself against the rock, and then hurried up the stairs and to the front door once they were past. She quickly slipped inside and shut the door behind her.
The interior of the castle was even worse damaged than the exterior. The foyer floor was covered in great, menacing icicles that jutted up at every angle, forcing Elsa to step around them carefully. The elegant ice fountain that had served as the centerpiece for the room had been unceremoniously smashed, its bowls and plumes lying in shattered fragments around the base. Its little beads of ice were scattered across the floor. Elsa gulped and made sure to step carefully; one misstep could end with a queen shish-kebab.
The two sets of stairs had been redone in the same angular style, and Elsa climbed the nearest flight carefully, not wanting to slip. When she reached the top, she peeked into the balcony room.
The damage here was by far the worst. The room's delicate snowflake and flower carvings had been shattered, the flower heads smashed from their stems and the snowflakes' arms broken off like panes of shattered glass. At the the far end of the room stood a single chair, a great empty throne made of ice, surrounded by debris. Her heart nearly broke at the sight; she'd created those designs specifically for Anna, on one of their many summer picnics to the palace, as a gesture of friendship between her gentle wintry spirit and sister's summery personality. The Snow Queen had destroyed it purely out of spite.
The 'renovations' only continued as she ascended higher. On the third floor of her palace were the rooms she'd created as necessity spaces when she'd believed she would spend the rest of her life there. The kitchens had been reduced to rubble; the dining room table split in three jagged-edge pieces. Only the room that she'd once intended to be her bedchambers (complete with a delicate four-poster bed and sheer comforters) was left intact, although it had been changed in style. A great snowy blanket lay over the bed, like a fur, and ornate, almost garish frost carvings covered the walls.
There was only one floor left, that of the cupola—the tallest point on the castle. She'd created the room to be simply ornamental, and serve as a lookout point if she'd ever had need of one. While she was worried that both Hans and the Snow Queen would be in there, she knew she had to check.
Her footsteps clinked on the ice as she ascended the stairs to the cupola. Though it was the smallest room in the castle, it was still quite large, larger than Elsa's bedroom back in the Arendelle castle. When she entered, she knew instantly that Hans was there, as was something… else.
The prince's wrists had been cuffed in ice, the bindings of which were attached to long chains of the same material, rooted in the center of the room. He was kneeling before a shimmering, glittering scarlet-and-cerulean pane of glass in a gilt frame. Even from across the room, she could see only three small spaces, confirming her theory about the Mirror's near-completion. She shifted her gaze to Hans. Elsa could tell he was dangerously pale; his red hair stood in sharp distinction to the back of his neck, and even his cream shirt seemed darker than his skin. He was shivering despite the unfamiliar overcoat about his shoulders, but didn't seem to notice the cold, or if he did, he made no attempt to find some way to warm himself. Little lights seemed to glimmer around him here and there, flashing and then dying out again.
"Hans?" Elsa called tentatively, her voice echoing in the empty space. When she received no response, she tried again. "Hans, are you alright?"
He started at the second call, and stood, turning around. It was then that Elsa realized the little lights she'd seen were actually sparks and small candle-flames; they seemed to crawl up his arms, searing his sleeves and flickering at the edges of the coat. His face, too, was paler than normal, freckles visible even from across the room as dark pinpricks on his pallid flesh.
"Elsa?" He stared at her, stunned, as if unwilling to believe it could really be her. "What are you doing here?"
"I came to bring you back," she answered calmly.
"Back?" He walked towards her, seemingly unable to help himself, though he did so warily, like a wounded animal.
"To Arendelle."
Arendelle. Hans could see the country like a map in his mind's eye. Full of towns, villages, people who'd bow down to him, cower at his feet if only he had the power to rule them— "I don't think that's a good idea."
"Hans, you have nothing to be afraid of. Your powers can be controlled," she assured him, glancing towards his hands. "Believe me, I should know."
"It's not the magic I'm afraid of controlling." His voice was so grim that Elsa felt a thin wisp of dread enter her heart. "You heard your captain's report, I'm sure." She watched as he sent a sphere of flame leaping easily, almost idly, between his palms, and felt a stab of jealousy at how quickly he'd mastered it.
"How did you learn how to–"
"I've been watching you for nearly a month now. Love will thaw, right?" He glanced up with a rueful half-smile which quickly faded. "Elsa, you shouldn't be here; you need to go."
"We need to go," she corrected. "Hans, if you came back with me, I could explain to my people what happened at Emilstad; they'd understand–"
"They wouldn't. I've broken their trust enough times; this was the last straw." He extinguished the ball of flame without meeting her eyes. "Besides, it's better this way."
"Chained up and imprisoned?" Elsa demanded. "You'll forgive me if I don't see that as being the better alternative."
"Don't you understand? This is what I deserve," he said, gesturing to the cuffs in a way reminiscent of the manner she had not so long ago. "Chained up and imprisoned is where I belong."
"That's not true."
"Isn't it? The only noteworthy thing I ever did with my life was trying to kill you," he reminded her tiredly. "Elsa, please just go. The further apart we are, the safer you'll be."
"Hans, I know that's what the Snow Queen's made you believe, and– and I know that what happened in the chapel didn't help–" He visibly flinched at the mention of their duel, "–but we can discuss that later. Right now, I need you to trust me." She held out her hand. For a moment, he seemed ready to consider it, looking at her hand with an expression of internal debate on his face. He uncurled his hand, little flames dancing along the fingertips, and began to reach out hesitantly, about to take hers. Perhaps they could work through this. Perhaps, despite everything, things could still be fixed. His fingers were a hair's breadth from hers.
And then, from the mirror behind him, he heard a faint and horribly familiar shing!
Hans felt himself go paler still, and quickly retracted his hand, clenching it into a fist. "No. Elsa, you have to leave. Now, before the Snow Queen comes back. It'll be worse if she catches you here."
"I am not leaving unless you're with me," she said firmly. She took a step forward.
More fear, more panic. Embers were flickering in the air; Hans could feel the fire burning, surging through his veins, hungry for things he didn't trust himself to possess. She wanted to bring him back down to Arendelle, warm and trusting and desperate Arendelle, and Elsa—she was really here, looking so lovely in the blue wool dress and bonnet, close enough to reach out and touch. Too close, to him—and to the Mirror.
He made an instinctive decision. With an outward motion of his hands, a line of hungry flames appeared between them, dancing on the ice as if the cold had no effect. The Queen took a startled step backward. "Elsa, I don't want to hurt you," he said tersely. "You know this is a trap; just go back to Arendelle and protect your piece of the Mirror."
The Queen swallowed. "Hans—I can't do that."
"What do you mean you–"
She pulled off her cap. Hans stopped dead and stared as her glossy dark braid fell over her shoulder. For a long moment, there was silence.
"Elsa, what have you done?" the prince whispered.
"The Snow Queen tricked me into giving up my powers." She took a step forward. "Hans, listen to me–"
But he stepped back. His eyes had gone round as dinner plates; fire began to spread along the floor in wavering bands, like the northern lights. "Hans–"
"No..."
"We need to leave," Elsa said sharply, "now, before the Snow Queen convinces you to give up that shard!"
"You don't understand what you've done!" His face had gone white, his hands shaking. Water from the melted ice began to run along the floor and then froze again as it escaped the fire.
"It's okay," she reassured him as he began to panic. "I can help you control it–"
"No, you can't!" He stepped back, closer to the glass. "This isn't about magic, Elsa, it's about the Mirror!"
"I know," she insisted. "I know what it does, I know how it corrupts people. But you can fight it, you can–"
"How?! I've never been able to before!" His voice was pitched with panic. "For pity's sake Elsa, I thought Anna was naïve, but you take it to a new level! Stop pretending I'm good when all the evidence you have is to the contrary!"
"All the evidence I've seen tells me that you've changed."
"No, it means I'm a really good liar–" He cut himself off abruptly as he noticed the flames spreading across the icy floor. "Dammit, no, stop it, stop…"
"You need to calm down. Panicking will only make it worse–"
"Shut up!"
But he wasn't looking at her; instead, he'd whirled around to face the mirror."I beg your pardon!" said Elsa, affronted.
"Not you! It's the—can't you hear it?" Her baffled expression made his expression twist in panic. "No, no…"
""H-Hans-?"
Oh-oh oh-oh…
"I'm not listening to you—ENOUGH!"
"Hans," she stepped forward, "who are you talking to…?"
Oh-oh, oh-oh…
His head was ducked, jaw gritted, but his ear was turned towards the mirror. "I can hear you," he ground out. "But I won't…"
"Some flee at trouble." She stepped forward. "I swear I won't."
His eyes refocused on hers, colder now. "There's a thousand reasons I should send you on your way."
"Wouldn't be the first time you've underestimated me." Oh-oh-oh…
She crossed the line of the fire, reached out, and took his hand.
"Oh-oh…"
He wrenched his hand away. "I've got you fooled," he jabbed his finger, "but I know exactly who I am." He moved away. "And this hunger here inside me has a hundred new demands."
"Everyone who loves you wants you back inside our walls."
He laughed brokenly. "I'm sorry, lovely siren, but I'm blocking out your calls."
"I know who you once were–" She held out a hand, "And I've seen who you can be. I can help you if you'd just trust and follow me–"
"Into the unknown!"
"Into the unknown!"
"Into the unknown!"
Oh-oh!
Oh-oh!
"Let me help you!"
"You don't know me!"
"I can show you!"
"You/can't can't/you trust me!"
Fire suddenly blasted everywhere across the room. Elsa gasped and stepped out of the way just in time, heat searing the edges of her skirt. Hans clenched his hands tight. "Elsa, go! Please!"
"Not without y–"
She cried out again as a wall of fire suddenly appeared at her back, and she was forced to step forward as the flames roared, radiating heat like hellfire against her face. She stumbled, staggered—and before she knew it she was in front of the mirror. She caught one, terrifying glimpse of Hans's face—harsh as stone—before she turned.
And she saw.
When it was over, she turned, trembling. Hans wasn't meeting her eyes, but his expression was dull with despair.
"Go home, Elsa."
"H-Hans—you wouldn't–"
"We both know I would."
She stared. His jaw set itself as he turned, and he raised his hand menacingly. A sphere of flame appeared.
"Go home, your Majesty. Before you get hurt."
She gaped. He took a step towards her, and she stumbled back.
"Go," Hans growled, "Home."
She didn't have time to answer; a cold gust of wind from the stairwell abruptly snuffed out the flames, and both looked over. "Well, what do we have here?" the Snow Queen said, smiling. "Queen Elsa, what a magnificent surprise."
"She was just leaving," Hans said quickly.
"I was not!" Elsa snapped furiously.
The Snow Queen looked over to the prince, raising a cold eyebrow. New tongues of fire danced over his fingers. "Why, Hans. Did we get a little out of hand, hm?"
He looked down at his hands, face filled with shame. "I-"
"And trying to send away such a lovely young lady; really, we must work on your manners. Why, she's our honored guest!" She looked between them, and then a sudden idea struck her, and she smiled. "And have you told her the good news?"
"Good news?" Elsa questioned mistrustfully.
"Why, you shy young man; you haven't, have you? Well, I'll spare you the embarrassment and do it myself, no need to thank me."
"No—please," Hans pleaded, but the sorceress continued as if she hadn't heard him.
"Queen Elsa, you'll be delighted to know that the handsome prince here has fallen madly in love with none other than your royal self."
Elsa's mouth fell open. She looked to Hans, who was wringing his hands and refusing to meet her eyes. His expression was one of horrible mortification. "…W-What…?" she stammered, voice barely more than a whisper.
"Oh, it's quite true! Yes, he's terribly infatuated with you, your Majesty; just ask him yourself!"
"Hans?" Elsa questioned, stunned.
He wasn't looking at her; he'd closed his eyes, cringing in utter humiliation. "Oh, the poor man's simply shy," the Snow Queen added with false pity. "Come, Queen Elsa; let's give him a little privacy." Icy chains suddenly curled themselves around Elsa's arms, and the sorceress began to drag her towards the exit.
"Hans!" Elsa cried out, struggling against her bonds. "Hans, don't give it to her! Whatever happens, don't give in!"
"Elsa–!" The prince turned to look, but it was too late; he caught one last glimpse of the blue-clad maiden, before the Snow Queen pulled her out of sight.
A/N: See you all tomorrow! God bless, Merry Christmas and Pax et Bonum!