It's odd, how time can fly by, yet at the same time, days idly bleed into one another. It was a novelty for me, I guess, not being on the run. It seemed the very core of my being slowed down as the cold winter months crept upon us and the earth prepared to sleep.

I found myself very tired. As if something within me just finally gave out from all the nights, all the years of sleeping with one eye open, of listening for boots or nets or crossbows in the dark, rising before dawn and covering my tracks, of never truly resting. And suddenly I was buried beneath an avalanche of fatigue.

Perhaps I felt safe. Or rather, less hunted. The prerogative word being "felt", because rationally, I knew I wasn't safe. I'm many things, but naive is not one of them. Safety was a privilege for the ordinary, unattainable for creatures such as me. What I had was temporary respite from the eternal hunt. But oh, gods, it was so close to the real thing, I could almost taste it.

I knew that Anna and her council or parents or whomever it was she worked alongside would be biding their time and assessing their options. Searching through their magical tomes, contacting their experts. Deciding what to do with me. Sooner or later, I'd have to leave. I had a plan half formulated. I'd tracked the guards' patrols, mapped out the servants' tunnels and thoroughly surveyed the gardens as best I could without being too obvious.

But somewhere between the warm, soapy baths and the soft, clean bedding and the hot, fresh food and endless supply of books and the tea and chocolate in the evenings, and above all, the utter warmth and cheer of the princess, I found myself hesitating. Unable to take those first steps.

It was risky. Unacceptably risky behaviour, and uncharacteristic, too. People like myself couldn't afford to ever get too comfortable. The amulet was proof of that lesson learnt the hard way. When people like me let our guards down, we tend to wake up in cages. And not the metaphorical kind of cage that dear sweet Anna faced.

The princess was often dragged off to banquets and meetings and public events. Cutting ribbons. Presenting medals. Making speeches. Kissing babies. I never knew royalty were subject to so much work. I'd been led to believe they spent most of their time lazing about, feasting and smelling roses and ordering their servants to and fro. Of course, with such a likeable princess, it made sense they'd want her out on display, endearing the public and generally raising morale. Even I started to find myself surprisingly disappointed when I returned from chores with Gerda to find her bedchamber empty and quiet. I found myself memorising her schedule in the morning and waiting up, forcing myself to stay awake in the evenings. Resisting the amulet's pull, the iron-heavy fatigue that dragged at me from the metal cuff, because I wanted to hear about her day. And share mine in return.

It was unwise, this affability that was building between us. Most ill-advised, and if I had any sense of self-preservation I ought to have nipped it in the bud and made my escape days ago.

I'd never met anyone quite like her before. So optimistic with her heart wide open to the world. So keen to find pleasure in the little things like flowers and baby ducks and chocolates and art. Quick to dance and sing and jump and laugh. But also, if one paid attention, quietly troubled in her own way. Like most people are, I suppose. She questioned me obsessively about the servants and if I'd overheard anything. If they spoke ill of her. It pained me to admit but it bordered on downright paranoia. I began to sense a backstory there, but knew better than to ask. And then, of course, there was that first night with all the wine, and the harrowing morning after. We never spoke of it, but after that morning, something crucial changed between us. Something very dangerous. As if it wasn't bad enough that I'd begun to enjoy her presence, I'd begun to care for her.

So very ill-advised.

II

Yet another new people's school had been built and apparently required a whole morning of pomp and ceremony in order to be sufficiently opened. Anna scolded herself internally for her grumpy mood. She was happy, truly happy, that this simple town on the outskirts of Arendelle's farmland would have its own school. The children who had shown up in droves wore humble garments, dirt under their fingernails as they gleefully gifted her with bunches of flowers and earnestly drawn pictures of her and Hans.

Anna loved her people. And she loved meeting them, especially children.

But she was just so tired. The excessive appearances lately were a strategic move to build goodwill toward Hans in the leadup to the wedding. And truthfully, he was doing an excellent job. Almost too excellent. He wove back and forth, inserting himself wherever Anna wasn't, ensuring no patch of the crowd was neglected for too long. He smiled at the right times and shook hands with such believable warmth and vigour that one would never guess he had a habit of taking his gloves off afterwards in the carriage and flicking them to the floor, grimacing as though he'd used them to shovel shit. And then he had the gall to smile at her! To smile, as though they were both in on this joke together, equally repulsed by her sweet, honest subjects who had shown up to greet them. She pressed her head against the carriage window, watching the ragged hills roll by, unable to let it go.

'Are you this disgusted by your own common people? Or just mine?'

'Oh, Anna. Don't make me out to be some kind of elitist. It's just basic hygiene. You don't know where their hands have been! All sorts of filthy places, most probably.'

Right. Basic hygiene meant screwing your face up while tossing your gloves like they were contaminated.

'Besides, they're our people now. What's yours is mine, after all.'

'It is?'

'I'd say so, wouldn't you? If we're to become one flesh. Unite our great kingdoms and all that. We ought to share everything. Wouldn't you agree?' He smiled at her expectantly, with eyebrows raised and the hint of a nod.

'Sure…I guess...' Anna remained unconvinced. There had to be a reason for him to lead the conversation into such an oddly specific place.

'And we should keep no secrets from each other.'

And there it was. The words sent a jolt through Anna's chest. Heart suddenly pounding against her ribcage. This was about Astrid!

But who could have told him? Not her parents, of course. They were the most desperate to keep it under wraps. All the staff who knew anything had been sworn - and also threatened and bribed, Anna suspected - to absolute secrecy.

Regardless, how he found out didn't matter. What mattered was what he could do with such information. The possibilities were endless. Trade, territory, taxes and tariffs, winter reserves, military resources, all could be swung in favour of his kingdom at the expense of hers. Not to mention control over her personal life. Sway over every decision. She had to keep a clear head. If he was bringing it up to gain leverage over her, then she intended to dig in her heels and make the process difficult. She took a deep breath in, willing her heart to slow, and prepared to play one of the truest and trustiest cards in any young woman's arsenal. The dumb card.

'Secrets?' Anna turned to her fiance, raised her own eyebrows, pretending to be shocked. The secret to feigning any emotion convincingly was not to overdo it. 'What do you mean?'

'I should like us to be open and honest. On the same page about...everything.'

'Of course.' He was really dragging this out. Time for the old switcheroo. 'I can keep a secret. Is there something you want to tell me, Hans?'

'What? No.' Annoyance flickered over his face. That was good. It meant the conversation was not going the way he'd expected. Perhaps she could destabilise him. 'I meant you.'

'Me?'

'Yes, you, Anna. I've been here almost a week and you still refuse to show me the magic girl. Frankly, it's starting to look suspicious.'

'Wait, what?' Hold up. This wasn't about Astrid at all. This was just yet another tactic to see Elsa. Hans continued raving on but Anna was so relieved, it took her a moment to actually process that she wasn't being blackmailed, her affliction remained undisclosed, and the power dynamic was not drastically threatened just yet.

'I don't know what I'm supposed to tell the General,' he said, 'The advisors are starting to suspect-'

'First of all, the general doesn't answer to you and neither do the advisors or the council or anyone else for that matter. So, whatever they suspect, they can bring it to me and my father.'

Hans stared dumbly, mouth hanging open like someone had just insulted his mother.

'And secondly, as I've said already, there's nothing you can learn by seeing her in person that I can't tell you already. She's very timid and I won't have you and your men spooking her!'

'I won't spook her.'

'You will spook her.'

'I have a way with magical creatures, you know. I was the only one-'

'Yeah, yeah. So you've said.' Anna thought she might start tearing her hair out if she had to hear the story again. How his brothers had captured a wyvern. How he was supposedly the only one who had managed to tame it. Of course, there was no verification of this. Anna was supposed to believe it just because he said it was so. Wyverns were uncommon but not unheard of in the south. They were captured from time to time, but never had there been any record of a wyvern being successfully trained, like some kind of show pony. It was ludacris. She made no indication of her scepticism - best to let him believe he had the upper hand.

'I trained that beast so well. Had it breathing fire like that,' he snapped his fingers with his left hand, right hand coming to rest over Anna's own. 'It was a sight to behold, Anna. It could have been glorious. Could you even imagine the look in my enemies' eyes, if I'd swooped down from the sky, like a god, and torched them all like pork sausages?'

Anna couldn't imagine anything more horrifying.

'You really ought to step aside and let me-'

'Oh yeah, because that ended sooo well. You precious wyvern just keeled over and died, really inspires confidence, great-'

'Sarcasm...' Hans' voice dropped, suddenly sharp as daggers, devoid of any warmth, 'is very unbecoming for a princess. And for a wife.'

His face was twisted, jaw tight, eyes hollow. Anna had no response, stunned and struggling to process how someone's demeanour could switch so suddenly from merely irritating to downright chilling. His grip on her hand tightened, not quite tight enough to hurt her but enough to let her know that he could, if he wanted to.

'As is interrupting. You would do well to remember that, moving forward.'

Anna cast her eyes downward and murmured, 'I'm sorry.' Alarm bells were ringing in her head, heralding in a fog of confusion. This wasn't right. This wasn't okay.

She may not have swooned for Hans. She had expected there would be times of polite accommodation. Times when she merely tolerated him. She had expected, if her own parents were anything to go by, to be frustrated, even angry with him at times.

But she had never expected to feel afraid of him.