Rifiuto: Non Miriena

A/N: So Hans has some regrets about his role in Frozen. He's got a glimpse of Elsa's new role, but still doesn't understand why she's not in Arendelle anymore, because she hasn't told him, more for her own protection than his. Also, this was Hans's first introduction to Bruni, who, clearly, has designated himself as Elsa's pet.

Written: 2019 - Licia

She released a slow breath, wrapping her arms around her crossed legs and resting her chin again her knee. She sat on the floor, in the room just past the throne room within Ahtohallan, looking up at the domed area above her. She'd slipped into the glacier, making the familiar trek down the path towards the 'ballroom' as she called it- the huge room where she had uncovered the memories of her mother's past and discovered her true self. On occasion, she would make her way past the throne room to this room, spending hours sitting upon the cold floor as she watched the memories of her mother play out before her overhead.

But tonight, she couldn't quite focus. Hans's questions had startled her, and she'd immediately returned to her palace, locking Anna's second letter into the drawer of her desk before searching through her books for something on guilt, and while she'd found answers, they weren't the answers she was looking for. To be honest, she wasn't sure what she'd been looking for. A distraction from Hans's questions? A reasoning behind the looks he kept throwing her during dinner? An answer to the strange warmth that had pooled in her stomach when their hands had touched when she took the bowl?

For all her research, she got no concrete answers.

So she'd come into the glacier, hoping some time with the memories of her mother would calm her frantic mind, as they had when she was still Queen of Arendelle and dealing with a particularly difficult problem. It was an overstimulated reaction, when your hands brushed today. Your nervous system kicked into overdrive when his hand touched yours, because you refuse human contact-

That is the most ridiculous- refusal of human contact, yes, but over-stimulation? No, that is not what that was.

"I wish you were here, Mother." She swallowed, looking up as the images floated above her, within the reflective ice ceiling. "I don't understand. This man was my enemy; he tried to kill me, he left Anna to die... and now he is here, in our camp, with our tribe, recovering... and he says he is remorseful..." She bit her lip, before shaking her head. "Everything is telling me not to trust him, that a snake can shed its skin, but not remove its poison. And yet..." She swallowed. "And yet, when our hands brushed tonight... there was heat. But I don't know what it was from or what caused it, and I have looked through all the books in my library, and turned up nothing. I cannot find an answer."

She returned her head to her knee with a sigh; she waited for no response and got none. They were only memories, after all. Like the ice crystal memories she often wandered through, they could only show her the past, not the present and certainly not the future. A moment passed, before she lowered her legs and adjusted the pouch on hip, before opening it up and removing the banner. Her fingers moved over the familiar symbol, her mind going back to the box on her desk. She had tried the night before to open it- unsuccessfully, again.

And she was too tired to try to again tonight. Best to leave it for another day when she wasn't feeling as drained, mentally, emotionally or physically. She sat in silence, holding the banner, lost in thought. She knew that he had attended her coronation, but what she didn't understand was why he'd held onto this all these years later. Was it some sick trophy from that day? A reminder of what he'd almost obtained, only to be thwarted at Anna's literal hand? Why?

After a moment, she returned the banner to the pouch and climbed to her feet. Slowly, she glanced around before leaving the throne room. She would get no answers tonight, she knew that to be true. Without a word, she left, turning back once outside and bowing quickly. Then, she hurried back to her palace, slipping inside. Instead of returning to her library, she put the kettle on, deciding that perhaps a cup of tea would help calm her nerves.

Once her tea was fixed, she trekked upstairs to the library, and curled up on the sofa, watching the flames dance in the grate.

"Quick Elsa, make a prince! A fancy one!"

"Oh no! The prince is trapped to! 'Who cares about danger when there's love?'"

"Ugh, Anna, yuck, kissing won't save the forest!"

"... and they all get married!"

The memory faded, and she shook her head, sipping her tea. That was Anna, always interested in love, even as a little girl. Anna, who fell in love with the first man who paid her a nice compliment, flashed her a bright smile, plucked at the innocence of her heart...

The same man who is now recuperating in your camp, while you are here, hiding out in your palace, like the Ice Queen you are.

She sighed, setting her cup down and getting up, trying to ignore the cynical voice in her head that had returned. She left the library; her feet led her down the stairs, and into a small ballroom. She stopped, however, seeing the throne that awaited her. She had no idea why she'd added this room to her palace when she'd built it; she was no longer a queen, and therefore, did not need a throne. And yet, she couldn't bring herself to rework the room into something else. After a moment, she crossed the length of the room and stepped onto the dais. Her fingers reached out, brushing against the cold ice of the throne, admiring her handiwork.

It, like everything else she crafted, truly was beautiful. After a moment, she took a seat; it felt strange, being seated on this throne in her small palace. Though when you crafted it, it was more because it was familiar. It was part of your home, and you wanted it with you, even if you sit upon it alone.

She couldn't deny that. Though the small palace looked similar to her ice palace on the North Mountain, inside, it resembled aspects of Arendelle castle. The beautiful red brick castle had been the place of her birth, her childhood and teenage home; it had been her home for twenty-four years, until-

Something rang loud in her head, something she remembered hearing Kristoff singing winter's night not long after the Great Thaw, that first holiday with the gates open. When she'd asked about it, he'd told her it was a song the Ice Harvesters sang to keep the cold away, to keep their spirits up and fight off the desire for sleep.

"I shouldn't, Elsa. It's... you might take it wrong."

"Nonsense, Kristoff. I can't take a song wrong. Sing it for me."

And so he had, his voice soft and deep, brown eyes occasionally glancing at her face to gauge her reaction. She hadn't missed the irony when the lyrics finally penetrated her brain, and had quickly excused herself. Kirstoff, afraid he'd insulted her, had followed, but she'd insisted she was fine, she just... hadn't been expecting a song to describe her so well.

"'Born of cold and winter air, and mountain rain combining, this icy force both foul and fair has a frozen heart worth mining. Cut through the heart, cold and clear! Strike for love and strike for fear! There's beauty and there's danger here, split the ice apart... beware the frozen heart...'"

She snorted softly. Beautiful. Powerful. Dangerous. Cold. Never had a more accurate description of herself, she mused. Did she regret asking Kristoff to sing it for her? Were she honest, no. If anything, it relieved her a little, though she couldn't say why.

"It's not describing you, Elsa, it's just a song. It's a... it's like a sea shanty."

"I know, Kristoff, but still, don't you see the irony?"

He'd reached up and covered the hand she'd rested against his cheek, seeing the pain in her eyes, seeing how much it hurt her, seeing that, despite everything, she was still just a girl, with a beautiful and dangerous ability, thrust into a position of power and struggling to forge her own path. He'd then pulled her into a hug, telling her he was sorry, and that if she ever needed anything, to let him know. Elsa had been grateful for the contact and offer.

Kristoff, I wish you were. I wish I could talk to you about... everything. You are so unlike Anna, who wants everything to be good and lovely and happy, and I just... I can't. Even now, I can't always be what Anna wants. I need your Ice Harvester's wisdom; your way of looking at the world is the only thing that will help me to understand what's going on right now. I need your advice.

Several minutes passed, before she finally got up and left the throne room, returning to the library. Pulling out her stationary, she grabbed her inkwell and began to write. Once finished, she let the ink dry before folding it and then slipping out of the palace. "Gale? Gale! I have a favor to ask!" Nothing. A moment passed, before she put her hands to her mouth and began to sing that familiar four-note aria her mother had used all those years ago.

She tried again.

By the third time, she felt the familiar warmth of the Wind Spirit flutter around her. "Hi, Gale." She glanced down at the letter in her hands. "Listen, and this is important. I have a message for Kristoff. Not Anna. Kristoff. Can you deliver it to him? Please? And don't let Anna see?"

The wind whistled, taking it from her before flying off. As it disappeared into the night, Elsa wrapped her arms around herself. She knew that Kirstoff probably couldn't help her, and that she was on her own, but she had to try. He was, after all, raised by 'love experts'.