TW: References to self-harm and suicide. Semi-subtle, but they're there.
Elsa folded over the parchment and melted a small pool of wax at its center. She brought her royal seal over the quickly-hardening puddle, pressing down and releasing to reveal a crisp Arendellian crocus flower molded into the wax. The small shadows on its indentations flickered in the candlelight.
Chainlinks clinked together as Hans shifted in his seat in front of her desk.
It was time to send him home.
She let out a breath, trying to center her emotions. She handed the newly-sealed letter to Kristoff, who tucked it into one of his pockets, before she looked to Anna and then Hans.
"You don't have to send me back," Hans said, barely above a whisper. "They'll... They'll kill me."
"My hands are tied," Elsa said. "You can't be here in Arendelle, and you refuse to be put on a ship to anywhere else. Where else can I send you?"
Hans looked down to his hands and rested them on top of his knees, palms up. He rubbed his fingers together. "Maybe I'm more in conflict with what I want than I thought." He leaned back into his chair and let his head hover over the back of it, his chin pointing straight at the ceiling, hair flopping over.
"Your weakness," Hans said. "Is fear."
His tone shook something deep within her, as if it jostled loose her anxieties growing up with magic and bringing the memories back afresh. She had a better handle on them now, she unlocked the way to control her powers. But they all knew that control was tenuous at best.
"What about my fear?" Elsa said.
"One last observation, before I'm shipped off to the Southern Isles with your sister and her friend." He rightened his head, hair tousled out of place, a dark look in his eyes. "Emotions are a constant, that a specific one causes us to lose control over our magic. Yours is fear. My brother's was anger. And in a way, you're lucky. How can one feel fear when love exists?"
"If that's the case, is your weakness not being a creep with my sister?" Anna said. "Is that's why you're so—"
"Anna, please," Elsa said. "Now is not the time or place. We're here to discuss the plan."
"It doesn't sound like Hans is interested in talking about plans," Anna said.
Elsa sighed and looked to Kristoff and tilting her head to the door. Kristoff took the hint and escorted Anna out of the office, the princess glaring at the prince as she walked past him.
"There's a reason why you're telling me this," Elsa said, watching the door close behind Anna and Kristoff. "That much I can tell."
Hans continued to focus only on Elsa, his intense gaze making her start to regret sending out everyone else.
"I've sent so many of us to either be sent to an institution or to an execution," Hans said. "Not once did I ever actually talk to any of them so... freely."
"It's only us two in here right now. What is it you want to say?"
He shifted his gaze from her to the paintings around the room, lingering on each one for a brief moment before moving onto the next. There was a hesitancy as he opened his mouth and closed it, starting and failing to make any words come out. She almost went to bring Anna and Kristoff back into the office.
He turned his attention back to her. He took a deep breath and exhaled.
He paused.
"I've hate what I become, Queen Elsa. I never wanted to be... this." He shook his manacles. "And I hate that I've ended up thriving on that hate. I've ended up embodying everything I've ever hated."
"So what is yours, Prince Hans?" Elsa asked. "If mine is fear and your brother's was anger, what made you lose control?"
The corners of Hans' lips twitched into a frown, and the intense look in his eyes softened into sadness and to somewhere distant. "Happiness."
It was as if the swirling storm surrounding her ability to figure out the prince dropped into stillness. Because, for what little she knew about him, it felt like something clicked into place. Now she knew too much.
Happiness. He wasn't allowed to be happy. She really did get lucky, in a sick and twisted way.
"That's... horrible," Elsa said. "Is that why you...?" She gestured to the mess the both of them knew was hidden underneath his sleeves.
"It is," Hans said. "Or, at least it started out that way. It's hard to be happy when you're in pain. But then I'm left with all the other emotions: sadness, anger, frustration... And then it devolved into... everything."
Hans made a noise. It started out as a small chuckle. Then a proper laugh. Then, like a storm approaching, into a crazed cackle that awakened a primal fear within Elsa, the thrum and thrill of her magic ready at her fingertips. It was a wreck that couldn't look away from, couldn't bring herself to cover hear ears so she wouldn't hear it anymore. Hans didn't let up the hollow sound, dark and twisted from some deep and tormented part of him Elsa knew was there, until it turned into sobs and his face buried in his hands.
The sudden shivers that wracked through him brought her back to the present. There was a thin sheet of frost over the top of her desk, most of it concentrated underneath her hands. She needed to get a grip.
"I'm sorry," Hans said between sniffles, voice muffled. "I didn't mean to scare you, Your Majesty. It's just..." He exhaled and he slowly relinquished his hold of his face. "I've never told anyone before, and it sounds so wrong hearing it out loud. How could I possibly think that any of this was right?"
"Because we don't know anything different," Elsa said.
Hans gave her a considering look. "For you, perhaps. I'm the only magician you've ever met. For me, I've encountered dozens. Studied about dozens more. I knew better and I still messed up." He shook his head. "I just wanted to make my kingdom a better place. Safer. I wanted to be a prince that Søren would want me to be. Coming here, I wanted to start new when the rumors in the Southern Isles got worse. And now, after all that I've said and done, I don't even know who or what I am anymore, much less what I want."
He ran his cuffed hands through his hair, ruining the coiffure further to the point that strands stuck out at odd angles.
"Maybe I have become a monster," Hans said. "Maybe I was the wicked mirror the entire time. Out of everything, I know what I don't want." His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, his eyes reddening and welling with unshed tears. He continued, voice breaking, "I don't want to die. I tried so hard to make it work, but all I did was break everything. Maybe I deserve it, but I don't want to die..." He looked away just in time for Elsa to see a tear begin its trail down his face. "Not yet, at least."
Elsa closed her eyes, felt the weight of her crown on her head despite not wearing it. Could whatever Hans had gone through, all that he'd done — could it be her one day? Her thoughts trailed to the metal cuffs around Hans' wrists. It wasn't that long ago where she had her own, in a cell, chained down because of what she'd done. Where had her manacles come from? Had her parents prepared for her demise? Or had Hans gotten them specially made, knowing what she was capable of?
"I don't know what to say," Elsa said. "I just hope your kingdom has answers that Arendelle didn't have."
Maybe it was because she really didn't have any other option. Or maybe she was running or hiding from the problem. She knew it was bound to come back to her at some point. But fear was her weakness.
And she was afraid.
Author's Note: I FOUND THE FILE! YAY! Now this is why you have backups of backups. While it's not the original file I was working on years ago, thank goodness I found at least one of the planning/idea files that I was using on my phone when I couldn't get to my computer... that I completely forgot existed until recently when I went to do some housekeeping on that phone. It was barebones and mainly framework (like ~300-400 words), but it was enough to inspire me to sit down and type this out today.
Thank you, cloud storage. You made a fanfiction writer very happy.