a/n; /crying. I woke up this morning to FIFTEEN reviews. Thanks so much, everyone! Y'all are the bomb, and I'm happy that it seems like you readers are enjoying this.

Dear Hans,

You thought you saw me because you did. It turns out you are not the coward. I am.

Will you understand if I tell you that I was hoping, desperately, for you to be freely roaming the castle, with a smirk on your face, a royal crest across your chest, boots shining, hair immaculate and clean? I desperately hoped for you to have been lying to me this whole time. I want so badly to continue to hate you. To let life move on and forget you as a human being. To always remember what you did, but to forget you. That's why my sister wrote you her letter. I'd…been hiding our communication from her. I didn't want her to know, because I knew exactly how she'd react. She's as protective of me as I am of her. I can't fault her for it. I should not have hidden it from her.

I didn't know she sent a letter until after it was done, and she hid your letter from me that came in the mail on the one day I was busier than usual. I tend to gather the mail before she wakes. The one time she beat me to it was on a day that was unusual to receive one from you. We've talked over it all, and though we may still not see eye to eye on things, I have explained things to her in the best way I knew how.

So, I made up my mind to visit. Your mother showed me the basement where you stay. I saw the wooden desk where you write your letters to me. I smelled the must you once told me about, and I saw the rocks that hang above you as you sleep.

Then I saw you, in the fields, laboring away and plowing the grounds. You must have felt my stare, because you paused, and you turned, and you looked up. You went still. There was a moment where I thought you would disappear, too. Then you began to walk toward me, and everything in me willed me to run. So I did.

I fear my skepticism is gone, now, Hans.

You said you weren't going to send your letter, but I'm glad you did, anyway. It, if nothing else, forced me to respond. Just as I should have responded to you weeks ago.

I am doing as well as I can be. How are you?

Elsa

Dear Queen Elsa of Arendelle,

You aren't a coward. I haven't bathed in about a week, and I know my odor is astringent. That would have made me run away, too.

I am happy to know that you weren't a figment of my imagination that day. Each day since, I've looked up to that exact same spot, wondering. Almost expecting to see your figure there. You aren't a ghost. I don't know why I keep expecting you to reappear like one.

You saw my room? Had I known I'd have a visitor, I would have cleaned up. The place is a little shabby these days.

If it gives you any assurance, I do understand. Wanting to hate, or forget, or move on. All those things combined. I am sorry to have disappointed you, but I also realize I may have risen above your expectations for once. I should be proud of that, shouldn't I? I find that I'm not.

I know you love your sister. I hope this situation did not cause a large rift between you two.

I actually never sent the letter. I'm as surprised as you. I think I fell asleep right after I finished it, and my guard believed it to be ready to deliver. That's what usually happens, except I hand it to him. He should know better, but it's been such a long time doing the only errand for me. I can't fault him for thinking it was like any other missive.

I'd forgotten what it was like, to have your letter waiting for me atop my desk. Does this mean we'll have continued correspondence? I don't mean to sound too hopeful, but… oh, hell. I am. I would like to continue if you do.

I'm glad you are doing well. I'm fine. Every day has marched along with the same monotony. I can't complain.

Hans

P.S. What was it that was the deciding factor to visit? I know it wasn't easy.